Bribing Children

I read an article that discussed a state legislative proposal to reward children for good grades with money. Get all A’s? Great, have some cash. Your tax dollars would be at work to raise the average GPA. (Quick thought: if it worked, and everybody started making A’s and B’s, would somebody start complaining about rampant grade inflation?) I listened briefly to a talking-heads back-and-forth (allegedly discussing the pros and cons) on TV. One guy suggested that this was a slippery slope, that the next step would be to pay people for obeying laws or acting moral. He might have a point, but there are already inducements to obey the law and act morally, namely prison and hell (or a similarly discordant plane of after-life).

My initial reaction to the story was a wince. This idea is so bad, it hurts. But then I started thinking, have I ever bribed my own children? Well, of course I have! When they were infants, there was the bribe of goodies to take their first steps. Later, I offered cash rewards if they would read a certain number of books over the summer. Do I still offer this? No. My point is, this bribery worked well for a few summers. And I understood that the thirst for reading was either going to take root quickly or it would never take root (how’s that for a mixed metaphor?).

And you know what, maybe some children don’t believe they can get good grades. Maybe the cash reward system will make them re-think their potential. My only caveat: just as I no longer pay my kids for reading, the cash for good grades should be limited to one or two years per student. If they don’t understand the benefits of good grades by then, if those study habits haven’t taken root, then the money would simply be going to helping a school’s collective GPA and test scores, which in the era of No Child Left Behind makes me wonder if that’s the underlying reason for this push. That is, pay the kids to make good grades so the school can stay in business to teach the kids. Ouch, my head hurts.

Father's Day 2007

Tomorrow is Father's Day. I have to admit that on Mother's Day 2007, I went all out and purchased a cool present that I knew my mom would love. And she did love it. It was a Pudge Rodriguez 8-inch bobblehead. She takes in to Bingo nights now, just for luck (and to show off). It was Thursday this week that I remembered I needed to send off a Father's Day present. So, already it was late. I was going to mail it off today, but I forgot. I'll call tomorrow and wish my dad a happy Father's Day, and I'll tell him his present is on the way, but I think I follow the national average on this. People care more about Mother's Day that Father's Day. I think there was a recent poll to confirm this.

Know what, though? I've got the answer to all of the punditry questions. The reason this happens is that dads don't really care. And I'm a dad myself, so I know it at least reflects my own views. Oh, it's wonderful to get a Father's Day card, and even better a present. I enjoy it, I really do. And don't get me wrong, I fully appreciate the thoughts. But if I get nothing? No, it doesn't ruin my day. I would hardly give it a second thought. I think it means more to moms, and that's why people generally treat Mother's Day with more respect than Father's Day.

But, given that, I'd still like to wish all of the fathers out there -- Happy Father's Day!

~ Doug

It's Not Right!

I’d like to congratulate Jamie Lee Curtis for speaking up (er, writing) on The Huffington Post. Her topic of conversation was parenting, and her illustration was the lament of Paris Hilton to her mother, “It’s not right!” as jailors began taking her to prison.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jamie-lee-curtis/mom-its-not-right_b_51507.html


Said Jamie Lee, “It was a painful episode to watch. A young woman, begging her mother, the person who should have taught her right from wrong, to help her, to teach her the rules of life. It was a little too late.”

Funny, I had been thinking the same thing. I remember watching a news show about the Hiltons. There was a video of a pre-teen Paris dancing (scantily clad) on a table, gyrating her hips. And her parents were at the table! Here is where a parent would normally say, “It’s not right.”

Reality gets skewed when parents have an anything-goes approach to parenting. I hate to generalize, but it sure seems like today’s kids walk around with an air of omnipotence. And I suppose if their parents never say “no,” why shouldn’t they have an exaggerated sense of themselves?

It’s time to rein in the children. They need to learn they can’t have everything, especially their freedom if they break the law. That just wouldn’t be right.

(Visit Doug and Robin at www.hewittsbooks.com)

High School Graduation

It's Official. On Saturday Andy graduated from The North Carolina School of Science and Math, and is now officially a college student. He will be attending North Carolina State University on a full scholarship. His hard work and diligence is paying off in big returns ...

What else is official?

David is officially a Senior in high school, and is well into his one month vacation before he begins his college funding quest in July. He has almost decided on Appalachian State University, and should be starting there about the same time our book on how to make a carreer choice and get funding for college comes out.Congrats to our two youngest!

Do You Talk To Your Children About Intolerance?

I find the sign offensive.

“AMERICAN OWNED AND OPERATED!” it proclaims, in bold red and blue letters. It stands in a prominent location in front of the corner gas station, an obvious reaction to the new owner of the competing station across the street.

I’ve met the new owner in passing, and although we haven’t exchanged names or any other personal information, he seems to be as congenial and polite as any other gas station clerk. He always has a smile and a “Have a nice day” for every customer, which I believe is the main prerequisite for a successful business person. His skin is a bit darker than the local average, and there may be just a touch of an unidentifiable accent when he speaks. This apparently classifies him as UNAMERICAN for some folks in these parts.

The sign hits a nerve with me. I remember being about ten years old, listening to Grandma Annie telling stories about growing up in the early 1900s on an isolated island on the Canadian border. When she was 7 years old, the United States Government proclaimed there was to be a census taken of all the Indians (we didn’t get the Native American title until outsourcing to India became popular) of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe in Northern Michigan.

Her father dutifully loaded the family into the boat, and traveled up the St. Mary River to Sault Ste. Marie, where the census was to be taken by the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

The line was long for the census, going out the door and down the street and around the block. Grandma waited all day with her father, pregnant mother, and 3 siblings.

As the good American citizens of Sault Ste. Marie passed the queue, they threw garbage at the Natives, calling them “the N word”. By the time they reached the front of the line, seven‑year‑old Annie was covered in spittle and rotten tomato. They registered with the government, and returned to their island home and simple life.

Grandma always finished the story with the admonishment; “So don’t you ever tell ANYBODY that you have Indian in you!” She married a proper white man, and spent her life “passing” as white (like no one would notice her darker skin and coal black eyes–not to mention that beak of a nose!). In 1924 the United States Federal Government gave Native Americans the right to vote–and granted them Citizenship at the same time.

Being ten at the time, I missed the impact of the story, ignored her warning, and basked in the glory and envy as I immediately told all my friends of my Indian heritage. It wasn’t until decades later that the sorrow of grandma’s tale hit home.

Robin