Dads, there are two reasons we’re going to work on cultivating this habit. The first is straightforward and scientific: there’s a growing consensus that praising children for attributes (their goodness, beauty, intelligence, etc.) rather than actions is actually detrimental to their long-term development. Here’s a decent backgrounder on that research if you want to know more.
If you want to use praise to get your child to do more of the right thing, in other words, your praise has to be about things your child can do, right? Go on and on about how pretty your little girl is, and you’ll make her hunger to be pretty. But what can she do, other than fuss more over her hair and makeup and clothes? And God help her as she gets older, and discovers there are prettier girls out there. If she’s learned from you that her worth resides in how she looks, you’ve simply created the groundwork for her to be resentful of other girls, obsessed with her own looks, and possibly even depressed about her inability to be as beautiful as this ideal that you helped build up in her head.
You may think you’re instilling self-esteem, but in reality, you’re creating a monster that, in the worst cases, devours your child.
On the other hand, if you praise her for the gentleness and respect with which she treated her great grandmother during a visit, or the way she stood up to a bully on the playground, well, you’re giving her something to work with, aren’t you? You’re affirming the worth of good actions—which she has the power to do more of—versus the false and fleeting worth of things she can’t control.
Avoiding praise of attributes doesn’t stop at something shallow, like looks. It also applies to things we believe are more inherently good, like, say, intelligence. Why? Because if you tell your kid how smart he is, and praise him for his good grades, you make him afraid to fail. Which translates into fear of taking a really challenging class, or trying a new discipline, or starting his own business.
You don’t want to ignore his straight-A report card, of course, but instead of praising the grades, praise the effort he put into achieving them. The hours spent studying. Choosing to work on his science project over going to the movies with his friends. Praise the actions you want to see him carry into other, more challenging endeavors, so that what he fears is not failure, but the failure to apply himself.
So that’s all good and hopefully convincing, but remember I said we have two reasons to develop this habit. The second isn’t about cultivating the right habits in our children (which would be reason enough to do it!), but about cultivating a right heart within ourselves.
I remember painting a room in our house years ago. My oldest son, who was seven at the time, wanted to help. And man, I was in the crappiest mood. I didn’t want to be painting, I was in long-running argument with my wife, my allergies were killing me, blah whine blah.
But the kid wanted to help, so I grudgingly gave him a roller and a section of wall, showed him what to do for maybe fifteen seconds, then got back to my work. Well of course he made a mess. Which meant I had to keep stopping what I was doing to come correct him. And of course I griped at him.
Why don’t roll of some paint in the pan like I showed you?
Can’t you see these drips you’re leaving on the wall?
After a few minutes of my assholishness, he burst into tears and said: “I’m trying, Dad, but I’m just a kid.”
To this day, that recollection breaks my heart. And I want to say that after I hugged him and apologized, everything was great, and I was patient forever after, and we remain close pals to this day. But the truth is that this moment—along with many other similar ones—eroded the bonds between us. He became less and less interested in helping me do things. Less likely to seek me out. And who can blame him?
The ache in my heart to repair my relationship with my oldest son is one of the chief reasons I embraced this habit. And even though I have a lot of work left to do, it’s had a transformative effect, not just on how we interact, but on my heart.
A Cherokee maxim is that inside all of us are two wolves—one that is angry, resentful, hateful, mean, and another which is noble and honest and good. These wolves are always fighting. And the one who will win is the one we feed.
So this habit isn’t just about applying science and common sense to motivate our children in optimal ways. It’s about starving that mean, critical, angry, selfish parts of ourselves, and feeding the loving, supportive part of ourselves.
Or if a Cherokee maxim doesn’t do it for you, consider this paraphrasing of something Jesus Christ said: “Out of the mouth comes the overflow of the heart.” You want your children to know that your heart overflows with love of what is good, and love for them, and admiration when they do their best.
Feed the best part of yourself and let your heart overflow with it, so that you feed the best parts of them.
Additional Resources
7 Ways to Teach Kids Failure Is a Great Thing. The folks at Big Life Journal give some practical advice to help kids learn not to fear failure.
10 Real Life Challenges for Your Kids. A sample of projects that give your children the opportunity to either experience real success, or learn from failure. (You can find more things like this on our own DIY Page.)
Don’t Praise Your Children. Psychologist Jim Taylor lays out how the wrong kind of praise can harm rather than help children.
How to Use Praise to Promote Good Behavior. Psychotherapist Amy Morin shows how easily we default to criticism of the bad rather than reinforcement of what’s good.
How to Foster Grit in Your Children. Parenting writer Jenny Williams breaks down things parents can do to cultivate more resilient kids.
How Not to Talk to Your Kids. Journalist Po Bronson details how the 1960’s self-esteem movement has undermined a generation of children, and what to do about it.