When Richard ‘Mac’ McKay turned 12 years old, he was given the keys to a two-ton tractor and asked to till some land for planting. The sun was scorching hot, unusual for April, even in Alabama. The day would be long. The job was tough work for a boy, even if it was basic. The theory was simple: lower the blades, follow the line of the land, raise the blades, rotate the tractor into line, repeat. Still, there were heavy gears that lurched angrily if the clutch was misapplied, and no power steering. It would take most of his strength, and the whole of the day.
Mac relished the chance. He didn’t see the job as simple or basic. He was 12 and it was a privilege. It was a big step. He’d watched his father for years, and had yearned for the chance to do real work. He knew, everyone knew, the stories of boys who’d got distracted on a tractor that ended with disastrous consequences. On a sweltering day, with flies swarming around him and sweat dripping from his neck, with crickets’ songs screaming like a natural symphony, it would be easy to lose focus. The least of disasters would end with a wrecked tractor. That would earn Mac a switchin’. The greater disasters could involve horrible, mutilating injuries, or death. Mac was determined to do a good job.
His parents worried, but that was life on a farm. In fact, that was just life. Children worked. Whether in farms, smiths other trades, or in the home, this was 1930, Mac was my grandfather, and it’s the story he shared when I asked about his first job.
By the time I asked him, it was 1976; I was five years old and children weren’t allowed to work until they were fifteen, which I found curious at the time. I couldn’t understand how it could be ok for my grandfather to work as a boy, but it wasn’t ok for me.
His generation experienced a lot. They endured the Great Depression, fought the Second World War and helped lead the world into a wealthier life. However, the wealthier life created by his generation, and their children, has lead to my generation, and our children. And it’s striking what a different life our children have.
That difference fascinates me. I have three children, and my work involves families. So connecting well with children and understanding them is, to a degree, my life’s work.
Just consider your own knowledge of how differently children were treated in 1930 than today. We’re always asked about how the world has changed, with the advent of travel and technology, but think about the difference in the experience of childhood.
Most of the changes since 1930 seem to be for the best. There were awful mortality rates among children, as well as difficult social conditions. Last year I took my children to Wales and visited a coal mine where children had worked from ages like five and six. Because the children spent so many hours in the mines, and experienced so little sunlight, many were virtually blind by their teenage years, their eyes never developing properly.
Few other than the privileged were educated. Often, the type of education they did receive was heavily biased (even more than today!) if not completely warped (think Nazi youth). At least in the Western world, many of these societal blights are vague shadows of their former selves (and for the purposes of this entire blog, I’m only talking about childhood in the above-poverty-line western world).
Today, however, children have different challenges. Many are growing up with apathy, depression or obesity… sometimes all three. Often, these are kids from loving households with good parents. And these aren’t lazy kids - visit any nursery of pre-schoolers and you’ll see children aren’t born lazy. Yet there is a lot of children who lack motivation, many that are unhappy, and a surprising number are obese.
It’s a sadly interesting state of affairs. If my grandfather heard some children’s complaints today, he’d probably take off his belt to give them a switchin’. And if he heard some adults’ beliefs about raising kids, he’d probably just clock ‘em in the jaw.
I’ve been studying this topic for a few years and I’ve decided to share some thoughts. There are massive questions that go beyond a vaguely nostalgic observation of generational tendencies. What kind of impact does and can parenting really have? Is it possible to impart virtues like integrity, patience and persistence if our culture does not? What can and should parents do?
Some say there’s nothing we can do. Business leaders lament the dearth of qualified American graduates for certain jobs, suggesting the greater ambition of students in India and China is a reflection of poor school systems. Many people criticize the growth of anti-depressants for children as an over-hyped problem fuelled by drug companies, the media and the health profession. Others suggest that video games and computers are partly the cause of rising obesity.
Perhaps the critics are right. But I don’t like the blame game. And I want to do everything I can to help my kids avoid these paths. So I decided to work out what I could do. As a dad. In our culture. That didn’t involve home-schooling or other things that were unrealistic in my life.
So this blog is a simple description of a journey to honor my daughter’s description of me as the best dad EVER. I remember thinking, damn girl, those are big boots but, what the hell, I’ll try to fill ‘em.
It’s a journey with plenty of mistakes, but some damn cool results, too. It’ll share some history of parenting and how the warriors of Sparta influence the way kids are educated today. It’ll share how the oldest surviving culture in the world learned to deal with teenagers. It’ll touch a bit on the neuroscience of kids’ brains, and how we might be actively working against their natural brain development. It’s also going to challenge assumptions and share a couple of my ideas.
The sum of it will be a theory for raising kids. It's a work in progress, but one that's been developed through the 'applied sciences', so to speak. It’s brought me to believe that if we consider the lessons of history and science, and avoid the trappings of what our culture or neighbors or parents might have us believe, we can provide an environment that greatly improves our kids’ chance to realize their inner potential.
However, my kids are young. They’re only 7, 9 and 10 at the point of writing. So whilst this gives me a decade of experience in the field, not bad usually, none of these ideas are road-tested into adulthood. It could all backfire on me.
But God loves a trier. So if you’re willing to read along, I hope to make it interesting for you, starting with Part 2 and the cradle of education, the Meditteranean.
