Stoic Saturday: How to Act (Part 3)

Taking a look at the third bit of advice from Meditations on how to act, a look at less being more.

• See Part 1
• See Part 2
• See Part 4
• See Part 5
• See Part 6

No surplus words or unnecessary actions.

I would say to a certain extent this one comes a little naturally to me. If I’ve got something to say, I’ll say it. If I don’t, I won’t. However, when it comes to my kids, I find that I often have to use extra words just so they can understand what I’m saying.

When trying to communicate a point to 5 year-old, over-explanation is probably the appropriate amount of explanation. A simple command is often not understood just because they literally don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a small child try to help you build or work on something, but you have to add roughly 18 words to your request for them to hand you a Phillips head screwdriver. So perhaps it’s best not to look at surplus from a perspective of volume, but of need.

I’ve noticed this recently when correcting my kids when they do something they shouldn’t. How often is too often? How many little things would be just as fine if I let them slide? I know for sure that after too many little corrections, they all become white noise. As a parent you really need to learn to pick your battles, but just as important is picking the words that could lead to the next battle.

Not to focus just on the negative, it is also important to measure your positive words. I’ll freely give out a high five, a good job, a that’s awesome, or generally any kind of positive reinforcement over pretty routine stuff. I get that when a kid is small and first learning how to do things like put their own socks on or wash their hands, giving that positive feedback is important to encourage the behavior. But after the two-hundredth time a kid takes their dirty plate to the sink after dinner, does that still require any more positive feedback? Not that I don’t want encourage continued good behavior, I also don’t want them to expect to be padded on the back for everything thing, especially as they get older.

It reminds me of a scene from Whiplash where the band director says the two most harmful words are “good job.” Literally, as I sit here at my kitchen table writing this, my 5 year-old is sitting next me to making rubber band bracelets with her sister and she turns to me and shows her progress. As a complete reflex I told her “good job.” I didn’t even look at her bracelet long enough to know if she was doing it right. I just fired out the complement. I mean, sure, make a little girl feel good about herself as she learns how make something. But what about when she starts doing actual graded school work?

My 7 year-old is in that boat now. She’ll bring home a story she wrote and half the words will be spelled wrong, but the story itself is a good expression of what she wanted to communicate. So do I say good job on writing the story, or hold back the surplus praise and point out the errors to correct? For sure a balance to find – appropriate praise and appropriate correction, but a surplus of neither.

I think I tend to lean the opposite direction when it comes to actions. In an effort to avoid what I think is unnecessary, do I not do enough? I’ve always tried to say yes when my kids asked if I can play with them, because I find that necessary. But in the everyday things, do I do enough to lead by the example of my actions? Is it necessary that I watch one more TV show? Is it necessary to have one more beer? Is it necessary to be pushed over the edge by one more kid screaming? I sometimes forget that it is the everyday, seemingly forgettable actions that can leave just as much as impression on my kids as the big, teachable moments.

Are all of my routine actions necessary? I bet if I really looked at it, probably not. And if it adjusted my behaviors would I now have more time, more energy, more focus to apply elsewhere? Probably. So, what really is necessary? It probably depends on the day, but keeping that in mind and adjusting appropriately is likely a life-long practice, so I might as well start now.