Taking Control By Giving Control

Give adopted kids control to make their own choices.

Give adopted kids control to make their own choices.

[Geek Pride welcomes guest blogger Deborah L. Blicher]

When my nine-year-old daughter Katya announced, "I'm done with homework for today. I'm going to play," my first thought was not, Oh, no you won't. It was, I am not going to nag her.

My husband and I adopted Katya and her brother Misha (not their real names) from Russia six years ago. Aged three and two, respectively, when we brought them home, they wanted to do everything themselves. In the interest of fostering attachment, Peter and I allowed them as much control as we thought safe, positioning ourselves as wise parents to cooperate with, not authoritarian ones to fear.

We took to heart the advice, Give away all the control you can; take only the control you must.

While it's valuable to all parents, this advice is especially valuable for adoptive parents. The theory is that adopted kids must practice controlling their world because they've experienced profound disruptions that wrested control away from them.

For example, a baby removed from his birthmother having learned that crying causes her to feed him will discover that his cries now summon a total stranger. His understanding of cause-and-effect suffers, which impedes his ability to learn anything involving contingency, which is, well, everything. Therefore, caregivers who allow children to re-learn cause-and-effect--that is, who allow them control when it's safe--help them regain their ability to learn. "When it's safe" is key here. For instance, rather than stuff our kids into layers for hiking, for instance, my husband and I let the kids choose whether to wear or carry them, but not whether to bring them at all.

Which brings me back to my daughter's announcement about her homework. It wasn't a safety issue: nobody would get hurt if Katya didn't finish. But Peter and I do want to foster in our kids the habit of respecting one's work because this habit helps the two of us keep our jobs. Therefore, we have a strong urge to nag when they don't want to work.

Katya's younger brother Misha does his homework after school while his mind is fresh, then winds down with play. I never have to tell him that playtime is for people who've completed their assignments and would he like to check to see if he has any? I never have to tell him I'm going to check my list to see what I have. (These non-nagging nagging techniques come from Parenting with Love and Logic, Foster Kline and Jim Fay, 2006.) Katya, however, is another story. For her, I have had to establish a consistent homework routine.

So Katya told me she was going to go play rather than finish her work according to our usual plan. I pointed out that Misha had already finished his, and I praised his good judgment, hoping to motivate her through her desire for my approval. (This technique is detailed in Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish's 1998 book Siblings Without Rivalry.) But she didn't fall for it.

"Well, I'm going to play." she said. "Bye, Mom." She said it without defiance; informing me, I knew, because she craved my permission.

I did not want to give it. But, I told myself, It's not a safety issue. You don't need control. Then I took a deep breath and tossed the choice back to her.

"What assignments do you have left?" I asked, to find out whether she knew.

She did.

"What's your plan?" I asked, expecting she didn't have one.

She did. It sucked.

I thought, She is SO not going to finish.

In that moment, I longed to fly her on big, fluffy wings to the land of the organized--where I've always lived, where I think in native-learned English, where time-management is as natural as breathing. But then I considered the consequences for Katya. If I forced her to sit down and work, she'd be too angry to work, concentrate poorly, and blame me for the bad outcome. She'd learn NOT to listen to me. However, if I let her go, she'd bomb her geography test, her teacher would dock part of her recess, she'd feel upset enough not to make this choice again, and she might listen the next time I said it was homework time.

As I considered the options, Katya kicked one purple-socked foot and watched me, chewing on her hair. I could almost hear her hoping I would argue.

I took a deep breath, then said, "Sounds fine. See how it works for you."

She studied me for a moment, then skipped off to the playroom.

I exhaled.

I emailed the teacher, of course, so she'd understand the sudden change in Katya's performance. She responded immediately, backing my decision. Her philosophy is to let students make mistakes when the stakes are low, instead of, say, when their grades count for college admission.

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As it turned out, Katya did finish her work. She stayed up late Thursday, and the quality stank, and she was too exhausted Friday to eat breakfast. But she kept track of all her papers and handed everything in. My forecast of complete failure had been wrong.

Even so, when Katya told me, "You were right. I'm going to get all my work done ahead of time next week," it was music to my ears.

I replied, "I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you wanted, sweetie. I think you've got a good plan for next week." And she hugged me.

Did she follow through? You bet. And did I nag? Not once.

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Deborah L. Blicher

Deborah L. Blicher

Deborah L. Blicher is a writer, ESL educator, and former developmental speech scientist. She has B.A. from Brown in cognitive science-psycholinguistics, an M.A. in experimental psychology from the University of Texas at Austin and an M.F.A. in creative writing from Emerson College. Her work has appeared most recently in The Boston Globe. She blogs at Two Adopt Two and is a regular contributor to BostonMamas.com.