More about praise...
Jun. 30th, 2006 11:11 pmSo, I've already gone on and on all about how I do my utmost best to avoid telling Ana things like 'Good drawing!' because of such complex reasons as:
1. it sounds unthinking
2. it implies that she can draw badly, which, at three, she really can't
3. it discourages her intrinsic motivation in place of extrinsic motivation
But here's another one, which I'll illustrate with a story.
Today was Kidz Cook at the museum. No, I don't know why they refuse to spell Kids correctly. We made Z for Zuccini (with tomato and basil) today. (Starting next week, it's ice cream all summer long.) And of the six children cooking, one left early for being too hyper (I thought her behaviour was perfectly fine, but I'm not the person in charge of her), two left early because they didn't want to try the food, one ate much of her serving, one refused to try any (he was the oldest, maybe 7 or so), and Ana gobbled her portion and was very upset that she could not have seconds.
It was delicious, I tell you.
And the mother of the kid who refused to try any (loudly!) goes, in affected surprise (though she may have really been surprised, it sounded affected) "OH! You ate all your food! Good job!" to Ana.
And I winced, I really did. Because this sort of extra attention to something Ana does naturally (she can be a picky eater, she is three, after all, but she will always eat what we make on Fridays) sounds to me like "OH! You ate that horrible stuff! You deserve a prize!" at best, and "Gee, you ate that. That's weird. What sort of kid would do that?" at worst.
Why call attention to this, make her think she isn't supposed to do it, or that it's doing something difficult (and maybe she shouldn't be enjoying the food)? Did it work with her kid? Probably not, or he would've eaten the food!
I need to make Ana a shirt or seven (one for every day of the week) saying something along those lines, because I obviously can't take the time to explain this position to random strangers. I had a hard enough time trying to explain it to her parents without them thinking I'd gone absolutely nuts. (Hey, I take my job seriously, okay?)
Though I'm definitely going to have to explain it to the people who see her every week, because if I hear one more "Good painting, Ana!" from Lisa, I may well explain it not-so-nicely, and I like her.
1. it sounds unthinking
2. it implies that she can draw badly, which, at three, she really can't
3. it discourages her intrinsic motivation in place of extrinsic motivation
But here's another one, which I'll illustrate with a story.
Today was Kidz Cook at the museum. No, I don't know why they refuse to spell Kids correctly. We made Z for Zuccini (with tomato and basil) today. (Starting next week, it's ice cream all summer long.) And of the six children cooking, one left early for being too hyper (I thought her behaviour was perfectly fine, but I'm not the person in charge of her), two left early because they didn't want to try the food, one ate much of her serving, one refused to try any (he was the oldest, maybe 7 or so), and Ana gobbled her portion and was very upset that she could not have seconds.
It was delicious, I tell you.
And the mother of the kid who refused to try any (loudly!) goes, in affected surprise (though she may have really been surprised, it sounded affected) "OH! You ate all your food! Good job!" to Ana.
And I winced, I really did. Because this sort of extra attention to something Ana does naturally (she can be a picky eater, she is three, after all, but she will always eat what we make on Fridays) sounds to me like "OH! You ate that horrible stuff! You deserve a prize!" at best, and "Gee, you ate that. That's weird. What sort of kid would do that?" at worst.
Why call attention to this, make her think she isn't supposed to do it, or that it's doing something difficult (and maybe she shouldn't be enjoying the food)? Did it work with her kid? Probably not, or he would've eaten the food!
I need to make Ana a shirt or seven (one for every day of the week) saying something along those lines, because I obviously can't take the time to explain this position to random strangers. I had a hard enough time trying to explain it to her parents without them thinking I'd gone absolutely nuts. (Hey, I take my job seriously, okay?)
Though I'm definitely going to have to explain it to the people who see her every week, because if I hear one more "Good painting, Ana!" from Lisa, I may well explain it not-so-nicely, and I like her.