Motivation
Rabbi Yitzchak Shmuel Ackerman, LMHC
I just got off the phone with my son's rebbe for the new school year. He said that he is very much looking forward to having Shlomo in his class this coming year, and that he is sure that Shlomo will live up to his potential. You would think that I would have been very encouraged by what the new rebbe said, but I was actually somewhat concerned. I have heard the "live up to his potential" expression before, and I have a real problem with it. Six or seven times last year, Shlomo's rebbe called us to say that Shlomo is a very sweet and bright fifth-grader who could do better if he tried harder, he just wasn't living up to his potential. I admired the rebbe's concern and his willingness to take the time to call me. Every time the rebbe called, I sat down with Shlomo and explained to him that his rebbe really likes him and knows that he could do better, so I would like him to try harder, to study more, and to live up to his potential. But by the end of the year, Shlomo was still getting 80s in all of his limudei kodesh subjects. So my problem is, how do I motivate Shlomo to reach his potential? I'm afraid I'm going to get the same phone calls all year again, and I'm not going to know what to do just like I didn't know what to do last year.
Therapists struggle with the issue of self-disclosure. Is it appropriate to talk about your own experiences when they seem in some ways similar to those of a client? One interpretation of the Mishna al tadin es chaveircha ad sh'tageah limkomo is that you can never really be in someone else's place so you should never judge them. I know it's never helpful to a client for me to say, "I know exactly what that's like," because I don't know exactly what it's like for them. But when is it helpful to say, "I went through something like that once and here is what it was like for me?" There may be some value in my telling them that I've had a similar experience because it "normalizes" their experience; sometimes it's reassuring to know that other people have had similar challenges in their lives. But I think it would be much more helpful if I were to go a step farther.
I'm sitting here, Yoni, and not saying anything because I'm thinking about these phone calls you've been getting about your son. You've really struck a nerve here, and it's not about phone calls that I got from my children's teachers over the years. It's about phone calls my parents, aleihem hashalom, told me about when I was in school. I'm going way back here, all the way back to first grade when Mrs. Levy told my parents that I needed to work on my penmanship. There are two things I remember from 1957. One was my parents getting a brand-new, two tone blue, Ford Fairlane 500. The other was sitting with a pencil and a lot of pieces of paper, practicing writing in what turned out to be a futile effort to improve my handwriting. As I think back on that, I wonder what my parents could have done to "motivate me" to improve my handwriting. And you know what, Yoni? I figured it out. There were all kinds of things my parents could have said and done that would've motivated me. Chances are they did say and do lots of very nice things and I felt very motivated. And my handwriting didn't get the least bit better.
But I don't get it. If you were really motivated why didn't you do better?
Because, Yoni, when you propose a solution before you figured out what's the problem you probably haven't solved anything. To this very day, I am motivated to have nicer handwriting. I have tried cartridge pens, gel pens, ballpoint pens, thicker and thinner, wider and fatter grip pens; I've tried writing faster, slower, larger, smaller, and angling the paper in various ways, all to no avail. And you know what I figured out? I am not lacking motivation. I'm lacking skill. And you can stand there all day and tell me that if I tried harder I'd be able to write more legibly. All that would happen is that I would feel as frustrated and resentful as I did over 50 years ago.
Was it helpful to Yoni that I self-disclosed all of that? Not yet. Here's the part that helped him.
Nobody thought this way 50 years ago but maybe now if it were really important to help a child with his penmanship, the teacher or parent would begin by sitting down with the child and seeing if they can help him. If they can't, they would arrange an evaluation of his manual dexterity to see if there's something that's making it hard for him to write as nicely as they wish he would. If remediation can help, provide it. If nothing can help, if it's just the best he can do, then understand that no amount of motivation can possibly help him do any better.
It seems to me that it's much easier to measure skill than to measure motivation. I'm really not sure how parents or teachers ever know that "you could do better if you would try." I do know that sometimes hearing that really hurts.
Rabbi Yitzchak Shmuel Ackerman, LMHC, created The Nachas Notebook ™ , and has been working with parents for over 30 years. He can be reached at 718-344-6575.