Tuesday, February 27, 2007

The Power (and Peril) of Praising Your Kids

I want to emphasize that this post isn't a boast. I hope that I don't have the ego and ego-dependence that I did as a child or even as a young-adult. That being said, I was always one of the smartest kids in the room, regardless of what room that was.

And it was a mixed bag. I don't think I was exposed to failure early enough. I don't think I was exposed to concepts that were too advanced for me. I grew very dependent on my ability to teach myself topics by reading and solo research (which isn't always a bad thing, but can be when I get tunnel-visioned on solving a problem or gaining a skill on my own instead of through instruction). In reading this article, I'm trying to remember whether I suffered (or suffer) from this particular weakness of not wanting to even try something I'm not naturally good at.

The Power (and Peril) of Praising Your Kids -- New York Magazine

I don't remember this ever really being a problem as a kid. I was pretty good at most things, though I worked the hardest at things that I found the most interesting. Most other things I tended to skate by on. Of course, that all came crashing down in college. Caltech was an extended academic beat-down. I wasn't good enough to get by on pure talent (very few are) and was too used to doing so. I didn't have the time management skills or the work ethic to turn it around.

I'm not sure if it's still a problem. I can't say that I'm that good at writing poetry and I don't really try it, but mostly because I'm not much interested in poetry. I can't say that swing-dance is a good counter-example, as I seem to be picking it up quicker than some others in the class I'm taking. I'm back at the math pipe, though I wasn't much good at it the first time around. Well, relative to my Caltech contemporaries, I wasn't much good at it.

I wonder if this might be the same problem I see in some pretty girls I've met over the years. Sometimes I get the feeling that pretty girls get told they're pretty too often. And that results in them thinking that it's the most important thing about them, instead of just something they were lucky enough to be born with. Being a smart kid is similar.

Interesting idea. But is the solution to not praise kids for what they are? Only praise them for achievements? For effort?

It's interesting that the study managed to link being praised for being smart with behavior which makes kids value looking smart, while being praised for effort is linked with challenge-seeking behavior. Interesting that kids praised for effort dealt with failure situations with relish while kids praised for smarts were miserable.

A very telling quote:

In follow-up interviews, Dweck discovered that those who think that innate intelligence is the key to success begin to discount the importance of effort. I am smart, the kids’ reasoning goes; I don’t need to put out effort. Expending effort becomes stigmatized—it’s public proof that you can’t cut it on your natural gifts.
That really cuts deep. I wonder if I ever felt like that. I don't remember feeling like that. But I do remember not putting out the effort.

An interesting bit on how just teaching the concept to students helped:

The only difference between the control group and the test group were two lessons, a total of 50 minutes spent teaching not math but a single idea: that the brain is a muscle. Giving it a harder workout makes you smarter. That alone improved their math scores.
Also interesting that the article author realizes with his own kids that he's the one who's a junkie about giving general praise instead of effort or process-based praise.

So do you tend to shy away from things you're not naturally good at? Can you remember being praised for specific, effort-based achievement instead of general "smartness?" If you have kids, can you see the application? Can you tell me your reaction to the article?

2 comments:

  1. Your experience reads like mine. It took me (still taking me?) years to figure out the effort part. I had my own smarts hammered into me (usually in a way that invoked guilt). Our kids are learning effort and productivity (mostly through the program they're in). I hope that it's for the best, but I wish I had their time management skills.

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  2. Ah. "still taking me"
    Good point. I still haven't gotten it all worked out yet. But I'm working on working it out.

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