In his 2014 commencement address at the University of Texas at Austin, Admiral William H. McRaven shared with the graduates “If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.” He spoke about making the bed as a way to ensure you accomplish something productive in the morning, that it sets a pattern for the day, and that a made bed reinforces that the little things in life matter. “If you can't do the little things right,” he shared, “you will never do the big things right.”
My obsession with making beds has become a running joke in my house. When I leave the house having made the beds, it feels like a small part of my life is settled. The little things we do have a way of setting the tone for the big things. But each morning as I walk out the door, there is a small voice of guilt in my head, knowing that I am doing most of this work alone. I know that in making the beds myself, I am robbing my children of an opportunity to develop life skills through chores.
A child who does chores has a better chance of succeeding in life, and those who do chores beginning at three or four years old are more likely to succeed
than those who only begin doing chores later in life. And chores, it should be noted, are just one way we teach our children to work. They are but one example of the type of life skills we aim to teach our children so that they can eventually live independently. Julie Lythcott Haims, the author of
how to Raise an Adult
writes “When it comes to getting ahead in life, skills like getting to places on time, being in charge of your own backpack or briefcase, and knowing how to cook turn out to be as important as schoolwork, piano lessons and competitive sports.”
But real life is more complicated than advice from a parenting expert. I have done the research, and I know that chores are good for my kids. I’m very much aware that my children should be setting the table, putting away groceries and folding laundry and that I should never be their backpack sherpa. And yet, I often find myself doing these tasks or even
discouraging
them from helping. I don’t necessarily want to argue with them. I really like things done a certain way. I don’t always have 20 minutes to watch while napkins are folded and placed in the right spots. And so it is easier and quicker and more pleasant to simply do it myself. To grab the backpack as we walk out the door, to fold the blanket and fluff the pillows, or to spread the cream cheese on the bagel in such a way that it does not get
all
over the counters. But by focusing on the ease of the immediate moment, I am sacrificing my long-term goals for my children.
I know that all of the math and reading and Hebrew will be useless if they don’t know how to set an alarm and get out of bed on their own in the morning. Even when it makes my life harder in the short run. And so I wonder, how do we make the time and space to ensure we are teaching our children these important skills? How can we prioritize them in our lives, even with the overwhelm of life?
At Pressman, we strive to raise children who are ready for the world. Children who can self-regulate. Who can demonstrate resilience. Who are good human beings. Who live in, and contribute to, community. I believe this is what we want from all of our children - but to fully teach these skills, children must live them at home as well. Children must contribute to the household and help family members with the running of the house, they ought to learn to wash a dish and make a sandwich, and they need to learn to function independently in the world.
In addition to making the commitment, sometimes, too, it’s difficult to know what we should or can
expect children to do
. I had an epiphany when I visited a good friend who lives in Israel. She has five kids, and the family expectation is that all children have jobs around the house. During my visit, her 8 and 10 year olds were responsible for packing our picnic lunch and baking the dessert. As I watched them expertly move around the kitchen, I was shocked in thinking about what my kitchen looks like and how
I
am the one moving around, doing for my children. When I got home from my trip, I told Maya, who was then 8 years old, that she was now in charge of baking dessert every
shabbat
. There have been some weeks when the cookies or brownies were simply inedible, and when the mess in the kitchen made me want to just take over - but this was how she learned to follow the instructions and to measure the ingredients correctly. The baked goods themselves are insignificant, but the lesson for me is not: by ceding control, I made space for her to grow into the kind of person I want to raise.
In the mornings when I make the beds, I get the opportunity to begin my day by accomplishing a small thing well. Someone may have had a tantrum or may have forgotten to complete their homework, but at least this one small thing is right. I want my children to get the privilege to make one small thing right too. I want them to grow up with a sense of pride in their work, an understanding that chores are a way you contribute to a family or a community, and the ability to accomplish these tasks well. And in order to do so, I have to continue to consciously relinquish control, choosing not to mind if the blankets are not straight on the bed or if the cream cheese got on the counter, because these are life skills too. And by providing my children these opportunities, I know that in the long term, the blankets will indeed be straight and the cream cheese will in fact make its way onto the bagel.
Warmly,
Erica
