motivation

how easy it would be if we could figure out a one size fits all approach to parenting.   unfortunately, our children are a classic example of what-works-for-one-doesn't-necessarily-work-for-the-other.  just when we think we've figured out the best way to motivate or discipline or teach a new skill, we'll try it with the other child and fail miserably.  case in point: allowance.

liam has always been driven by reward.  whether it's the promise of dessert if he tries another bite of asparagus, or five extra minutes on the wii if he finishes his weekly homework a day early, the dangling carrot trick is a surefire way of getting him to do what he otherwise might not want to do.  i'm sure there are parenting gurus out there who would shake their heads and denounce our methods, but i know myself, and i know it works for me.  a bigger paycheck if i take on another class?  sure!  a better chance of winning my next match if i hit against the ball machine for an hour?  sign me up!  and liam is pretty much the same.  so every night, we go through his Responsibility Chart and assess whether he deserves his nickel for each of the seven tasks he's expected to do each day.  (his jobs include getting the newspaper, feeding the dog, making his bed, brushing his teeth, putting his clothes in the hamper, cleaning his room, and choosing the next day's outfit before bed.)

things were going pretty well for a while.  but then he started exhibiting yet another trait of mine: procrastination.  we would be going over his Responsibility Chart at 7:58 pm and he'd realize he never made his bed.  immediately, he would jump up and start scurrying around like a man possessed, yanking up his covers and picking up his shams off the floor and throwing his stuffed animals into a pile on top.  "there!" he'd say, breathless, at 7:59.  "i get my nickel!"

so, slavedrivers that we are, we instituted a further requirement: the bed making had to be done before he went downstairs for breakfast, without prompting or reminding.  and no, you can't just yank up the quilt on top and leave the sheets underneath in a crumpled mess -- have some pride in your work, boy!  what do you know ... it's worked.  mostly because our firstborn is driven by reward, but for whatever reason, he's never failed in completing this task.  (and i have to say, there is quite a sense of satisfaction as a mother to peek my head into my son's room after dropping him off at school to see everything as it should be.  when i need a good laugh, i like to delude myself and think that it is going to be this way until he leaves for college.)

so that's our liam.  and then, in the other corner, we have susanna. 

susanna doesn't seem to give one flying flip about rewards.  if she's not into the green beans i'm serving for dinner, there is no dessert on this planet that could convince her to try them.  if she hasn't done what she was supposed to in order to get some time on the pbs kids website, oh well.  there's always tomorrow.  and her responsibility chart?  (or, should i say Sponsibility Chart?)  sure, she likes to arrange its magnets into colorful rows and count how many butterflies and hearts she sees, but the money aspect is of no interest to her whatsoever.

tonight, as we began our bedtime routine, i pointed out to her that she hadn't yet made her bed.  "why don't you go ahead and do it now?" i suggested.  (we have yet to implement the before-breakfast rule with her ... we may be strict, but she's only five.  we do have some compassion.) 

"oh."  she glanced over at her double bed, the pink quilt askew and her pillows on the floor, and shrugged her shoulders.  "that's okay."

"but you won't get your magnet for that job today," i reminded her.  "don't you want a nickel for your piggy bank?"

"um, i guess not," she replied, her eyes focused on her bookshelf.  "i'll just get one tomorrow if i do it then.  besides, i'm about to get in bed anyway."

i have to admit -- i looked at her for a solid minute, watching her as she ran her fingers over the spines of her books to choose which one we would read.  who is this child?   i asked myself.  where did she come from?

the more i've thought about it, i've arrived at the conclusion that this could turn out one of two ways.  she could turn out to be exactly the kind of person i wish i were -- driven by just an innate desire to be better just for better's sake; motivated by sheer will, and not by reward or potential outcome.  i already see this in her on a regular basis.  just yesterday, she sat down and painstakingly wrote down the name of every child in her class, divided into columns of boys and girls.  she spelled everything correctly after consulting her class roster, and made sure to capitalize where appropriate.  and she did this not because she was required to, or because we suggested it, but just because she wanted to see if she could do it.  the praise i lavished on her afterwards was just the icing on the cake; she was proud of her work because it was good.  not because of what i said or because of some reward that was promised to her if she did it.

but ... who knows.  maybe that's not what will happen.  maybe the money thing will never interest her and, in her ripe old age, she'll wind up with her older brother on speed dial, calling him up for loans. 

as i mulled over her two possible distinct future paths, i heard liam from across the hall close his closet door.  "all right, mommy!" he yelled.  "i'm done!  i've got my outfit out for tomorrow so i get all seven nickels again tonight!"

at least he'll be able to support her.