Say what you want about the nutritional disaster that is a chocolate donut, but, damn, there is comfort in it’s sugar-packed splendor. The sweet taste pairs well with anything, for anyone – a hot cup of coffee for a parent or a tart-tasting apple juice for our kids.
Yes, the chocolate donut is the model of consistency and reliability – good whenever called upon, always there when needed.
In football, the chocolate donut would be called a “game manager” – a quarterback coined a winner while garnering no public notoriety – like former NFL quarterback Trent Dilfer.
In basketball, the chocolate donut would be a solid “role-player” – providing the in-game spark that propelled a team on to victory. Maybe, 90’s NBA players like Joe Dumars or John Starks.
Baseball’s version of the chocolate donut, would be a “utility man” – a player with the versatility to play all positions on the diamond. The St. Louis Cardinals’ David Eckstein was always my favorite.
I thought about those athletes’ track record of consistent success as my fifth grader, Lynden, devoured his second chocolate donut in his school’s cafeteria a few weeks ago. Instead of sweetness, though, my mouth soured at the sight.
After all, my son has been the ultimate game manager throughout his elementary school career and, like the chocolate donut, his consistency has often been lost on me.
During every grading period in his life, Lynden has earned straight A’s – something most households proudly laud. In honor of the accomplishment his school hosts a chocolate donut and juice breakfast each quarter. I’ve been at most of them over time, but this particular morning felt different.
As I stood there that day, I couldn’t recall ever congratulating my role player.
I haven’t paid my utility man a cent for his efforts (even though Lynden tells me other friends get $20 per A reported).
I felt ashamed to admit that I haven’t so much as given him a hug to tell him how damn proud I am of him. Not only for this semester, but for all fourteen that preceded them.
I certainly could have done better for Lynden.
This is more, though, than regretting that I’ve spent more time disciplining and less time celebrating my kids. As I said goodbye to Lynden after breakfast that morning, a bigger question swirled in my head:
Is normalizing success actually NEEDED given all that kids get nowadays?
Awards and young kids seem inseparable – in sports, in school, in activities, at camp. Kids are recognized constantly.
Just the other night, in fact, I snapped a proud picture of my 8th grader as he received his first ever track medal. The medal was given simply because Yosef participated – not that he placed at districts or ran a sub six minute mile. That hardware, I note, now sits alongside meaningless trash on my van’s front floorboard.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that, not only have I totally ignored Lyden’s chocolate donut receptions at school over the last four years, he largely seems to take them for granted, too.
This leaves parents, like me, in a tough spot – I want my kids to care, I want them to know I do too, but I can’t have them expect to be rewarded for everything.
How do you get your kid to care when the prize is assumed to be imminent?
A common response to keep our kids motivated, at least for the parents I’m around, is attempting to “one-up” the participation trophy with things (like $20 for a track PR) or extra privileges (an extra hour playing Fortnite) for a good grade on an exam.
What are we teaching our kids if we position them to chase success because a prize awaits at the finish line?
So, while I worry about not praising Lynden for his exemplary academic accomplishments, maybe there’s good reason to hold back. Not having to dangle the carrot in front of him to keep him motivated shows me grit that isn’t driven by anything other than the internal satisfaction of a job well done.
In some ways, I’ll admit, this feels like rationalizing my own shortfalls as a parent. There is, no doubt, some of that here.
But, let me tell you, I’m not worried about the kids eating chocolate donuts during the school event today – nonchalantly engulfing that sugary mess like David Ekstein slapped singles to right.
Rest assured, for Lynden’s classmates finishing their third pastry I’d say, “Have at it!” – reminding me of the persistence of Joe Dumars blanketing Michael Jordan in all the Pistons versus Bulls’ playoff games of the 90’s.
No, I’m concerned about the kid that has discovered that the chocolate donut reward wasn’t worth the effort to earn straight A’s.
I’m worried about the parents who, at home, are discussing the appropriate amount of cash to give their school-ager to compel them from average to Principal’s List next time.
I’d ask, If kids aren’t motivated by doing a good job, how will our kids’ future teachers, employers and spouses keep them fulfilled?
Yes, the chocolate donut is the model of consistency and, for now at least, an adequate enough motivator for my kids to want straight A’s in school. That makes me very proud. I should be doing a better job of telling my kids’ so.
I know that as each of my children grow, though, a sugary treat may not be enough. When that time comes, I hope, the “more” required will be something simple – like jelly filling – not an over-the-top reward like a blank check at Dunkin.
