'Can I just tell you what he said?" my 13-year-old asked while we
sat watching a Leaf-less playoff hockey game.
Although it was the playoffs, the weather had been hot. A few hours
earlier, he and his 15-year-old brother had been cooling off in the backyard
with their old Super Soakers, and the game had gone from two brothers having
fun to two brothers fuming mad. My youngest son had been squirted in the
face - a breach of safety rules - and things had deteriorated from there.
Over the years, I've found that listening to both sides of the story too
soon after a battle royal usually results in a new upset because the
descriptions of what transpired are personalized, and neither agrees with
the other's version.
"Okay, what did he say?"
I knew if he was still bothered while watching a hockey game, it was
important.
"He said he did it because of an impulse."
I felt my younger son's indignation. I headed upstairs. I asked my older
son what explanation he had given his brother and he said: "I said it
was an impulse."
I went into a wordy explanation about how people have to control their
impulses, and that they are not a justification for poor behaviour. My son
agreed wholeheartedly - clearly his own rethinking, and his brother's
reaction, had paved my way.
Everyone is so sensitive to wrongdoing these days that we've become quick
to rationalize our own, or our children's, misdeeds. If you can provide an
explanation for poor behaviour, it removes the focus. An explanation is
given so that people will not think less of you, so they will understand
your circumstances.
Some people fill their lives with explanations that may or may not be
truthful. For some, this becomes so completely ingrained that they don't
notice it any more. If they don't want to do something, they find an
explanation for why they can't do it, and proffer it as a rationale. The
trouble comes when the explanations get ahead of reality. Sometimes, if
something could have happened - regardless of whether it actually did happen
- it is used as an explanation. Things get complex.
The truth seems to be losing ground quickly. I say to my teenagers that
there is only one truth; you can't have different versions to make things
convenient.
Someone might say, "I have to work." This is used to get out of
doing something else and avoids your having to say: "I don't want to
go." We appear so much better socially if we are technically willing to
do something, but circumstances prevent us.
However, the right thing to do would be to go, even if you didn't want
to, because you had been invited and you were available. And what happens if
the person you've told you're unavailable finds out that they have been
given the brush-off? Does the truth rise victorious? No, another updated
explanation is probably offered.
I'm wondering if we are encouraging explanations instead of truth at home
and at schools. Rather than think that a child has done something wrong, we
want to provide an explanation. We don't want their image sullied. We don't
want to think they're capable of evil.
When my own children were in trouble, I remember asking them what the
other child had done. I wanted to know so I could think my own children were
justified in their response, but the truth is this: Bad behaviour doesn't
excuse more bad behaviour from a fellow student, from a parent or from a
teacher.
As my children grew older, I listened to their explanations but I focused
far more on their behaviour. Instead of justifying their actions, they could
feel remorse for what they had done and realize how they could have handled
things differently.
Bad behaviour can be simple - an impulse indeed - but growing up means
controlling those impulses, not explaining them after the fact.
It's rare to hear people say "I was wrong" without offering an
explanation. But I would prefer to see a change in behaviour, rather than
hear an explanation. Sometimes I feel antiquated, but to me reality requires
truth - even if it includes evil - instead of rationalizations. I'd prefer
to know what is really going on around me and try to effect change rather
than be a peon in someone's imagined world.
Had my son been honest when he said he'd acted on impulse? Yes. But if he
didn't think an explanation might get him off the hook, he might have said,
"I'm sorry, are you okay?" or any number of remorseful follow-ups.
And the difference would have been that my younger son would have had the
recognition that he had been wronged, and that his brother felt sorry about
it. And that would have been enough.
I knew if he was still bothered while watching a hockey game, it was
important.
"He said he did it because of an impulse."
I felt my younger son's indignation. I headed upstairs. I asked my older
son what explanation he had given his brother and he said: "I said it
was an impulse."
I went into a wordy explanation about how people have to control their
impulses, and that they are not a justification for poor behaviour. My son
agreed wholeheartedly - clearly his own rethinking, and his brother's
reaction, had paved my way.
Everyone is so sensitive to wrongdoing these days that we've become quick
to rationalize our own, or our children's, misdeeds. If you can provide an
explanation for poor behaviour, it removes the focus. An explanation is
given so that people will not think less of you, so they will understand
your circumstances.
Some people fill their lives with explanations that may or may not be
truthful. For some, this becomes so completely ingrained that they don't
notice it any more. If they don't want to do something, they find an
explanation for why they can't do it, and proffer it as a rationale. The
trouble comes when the explanations get ahead of reality. Sometimes, if
something could have happened - regardless of whether it actually did happen
- it is used as an explanation. Things get complex.
The truth seems to be losing ground quickly. I say to my teenagers that
there is only one truth; you can't have different versions to make things
convenient.
Someone might say, "I have to work." This is used to get out of
doing something else and avoids your having to say: "I don't want to
go." We appear so much better socially if we are technically willing to
do something, but circumstances prevent us.
However, the right thing to do would be to go, even if you didn't want
to, because you had been invited and you were available. And what happens if
the person you've told you're unavailable finds out that they have been
given the brush-off? Does the truth rise victorious? No, another updated
explanation is probably offered.
I'm wondering if we are encouraging explanations instead of truth at home
and at schools. Rather than think that a child has done something wrong, we
want to provide an explanation. We don't want their image sullied. We don't
want to think they're capable of evil.
When my own children were in trouble, I remember asking them what the
other child had done. I wanted to know so I could think my own children were
justified in their response, but the truth is this: Bad behaviour doesn't
excuse more bad behaviour from a fellow student, from a parent or from a
teacher.
As my children grew older, I listened to their explanations but I focused
far more on their behaviour. Instead of justifying their actions, they could
feel remorse for what they had done and realize how they could have handled
things differently.
Bad behaviour can be simple - an impulse indeed - but growing up means
controlling those impulses, not explaining them after the fact.
It's rare to hear people say "I was wrong" without offering an
explanation. But I would prefer to see a change in behaviour, rather than
hear an explanation. Sometimes I feel antiquated, but to me reality requires
truth - even if it includes evil - instead of rationalizations. I'd prefer
to know what is really going on around me and try to effect change rather
than be a peon in someone's imagined world.
Had my son been honest when he said he'd acted on impulse? Yes. But if he
didn't think an explanation might get him off the hook, he might have said,
"I'm sorry, are you okay?" or any number of remorseful follow-ups.
And the difference would have been that my younger son would have had the
recognition that he had been wronged, and that his brother felt sorry about
it. And that would have been enough. - Kathryn
Davies GLOBE
& MAIL 2007 August 30
