Rabbi Yitzchak Shmuel Ackerman, LMHC

There is one question that parents ask me that I refuse to answer.

"Why don't kids today do what they're told like kids used to do?"

Why do I refuse to answer that question?  Is there such a thing as a bad question?  Isn't it a sign of wisdom to ask questions?

There is no problem with the question per se.  The problem lies within the premise that generated the question.

The premise is, "kids used to do what they were told."  It's a false premise.  If it were true that kids used to do what they were told and now they don't, it might be useful to ask why they did then and they don't now.  But questions that are based on a false premise are not useful.  The truth is, kids nowadays sometimes do what they're told, sometimes they don't, and it was always that way.  It's not about culture or parenting techniques.  It's about ratzon, the desire to do something, or not do it.

When I explain this to parents, some of them think I'm describing something out of twentieth century Western psychology.  I am.  What they don't realize is that I'm describing a Torah hashkafa as well: you can bend a child's will but you can seldom break it.  The lesson is conveyed through two stories:

Let's say an 11-year-old boy wanted to fast on a fast day like Tisha b'Av or Yom Kippur or the 17^th of Tamuz.  He wanted to boast to the world that he had the ability to fast like grown-ups do. Even though his father and his mother would tell him that he would not be able to, and that if he tried to fast he will faint, he would not listen to them. If they would hit him or try to force his mouth open he would cry and scream and not comply with what they wanted. In the end he would fast and it wouldn't bother him in the least; he'd walk around throughout the fast with no difficulty.  He would be able to because he had a strong desire to show off his ability to fast and this desire would give him the ability to bear the burden of the fast.

You will also find a seven-year-old able to walk an hour or more to an orchard and it doesn't bother him. This is because of the joy and desire in his heart to visit the orchard.  It enables him do something very difficult without complaint.

These are not the children of modern Western parents, the supposedly unique, modern children who don't do what they're told.  These are the children of a very different place and time.  Like the children of today, one of them steadfastly resisted doing something against his will, defying the strenuous efforts of his parents to gain his compliance.  The second demonstrated the ability to do more than you would expect when it got him something he wanted.  They are hypothetical children and they are typical children.  They illustrate a norm, not an exception.

The descriptions of these typical children are found in the sefer Od Yosef Chai (Parshas b'chukosai, page 245 in the Salem edition, Yerushalayim 5752).  The Ben Ish Chai is describing the children of his place and time, Bagdad at the end of the 19^th century.

The second scenario shows us how you can bend a child's will.  It describes a seven-year-old boy who was willing to walk for over an hour to get to an orchard presumably to enjoy seeing and perhaps even tasting some of the fruit.  We can assume that this same seven-year-old would have strenuously resisted going for a 60 minute walk to nowhere.   I assume that's what would've happened in Baghdad 120 years ago.  I know for sure that it happened in Baltimore 25 years ago.  When we would suggest to our children that we all go for a somewhat lengthy Shabbos walk on a summer afternoon, they always asked us, "to where?"  When the answer was, "to look at the deer on the lawn" (they were lawn ornaments at a home about a mile from ours, not live deer!), or "to stand on the Beltway overpass and watch the trucks go by right underneath our feet!" we always got a far more cheerful response than when we said" just for a walk, to nowhere in particular."

The first story shows how difficult it can be to break a child's will.  The Ben Ish Chai tells us that even parents who hit and attempt to physically overpower their child to make him eat, will fail if their child is intent on having his way and fasting.

I would add another vital lesson from that story.  The parents told their 11 year old that he would not be able to fast, and that if he tried he would faint.  The Ben Ish Chai wrote that the child would not listen to them, and that the child would complete the fast successfully.  At that point, the parents would lose credibility.  Their assurance that their child would be unable to fast and would faint if he tried would turn out to be untrue.

Don't tell your child that you know something is going to happen when you really don't.  Don't say, "Don't' climb there, you're going to fall."   When they climb there and they don't fall, you lose credibility. 

The alternative is to express concern for what you think may happen.  It sounds like this:

Esti, don't climb on the railing, it's very high!

It's okay, dad, I climbed on it yesterday and I didn't fall.

I'm glad you didn't fall yesterday, Baruch Hashem, Esti.  I still don't want you climb on it because I'm afraid you might fall and if you did you could really get hurt.

But maybe I won't fall, and it's fun!

Right, and maybe you will, so I want you to come down and see where else you can climb where it's padded underneath.

Her will is to climb because it's fun.  Climbing is also a good source of strength and stamina which I recommend to parents for their children. 

Your will is to keep her safe.   Don't break her will or discount yours.  Bend her will to a place where she can climb safely.