Familiarity Breeds Tolerance

In a previous post, I wrote about the type of adults my wife and I want our children to be when they grow up.  One of the desired characteristics we hope to instill is cultural and spiritual understanding.  We want our children introduced to as much of the world as possible, including its various religions.  Such familiarity we hope will breed tolerance vice contempt.

Of course, it's all well and good to have such a goal.  But how do you get there?   We have taken a number of approaches, including the types of conversations we have with our children, the books we have on our shelves, and the experiences we provide them.   One concrete example, easily replicated in your own home, is our monthly "Culture Night."   Every month, on a Saturday or Sunday evening, we explore a different country through its food, music, geography and language.  

The cornerstone of this event is our "Universal Yums" monthly subscription box.   (We have received no compensation, monetary or otherwise, for mentioning this company).    The box provides around a dozen typical snacks (chips, candy, etc) from a chosen country.  Instead of diving into the box and snacking at will, we use it in a deliberate and educational fashion.   As we gather around the table, I will first pull up an interactive map on the computer for a quick geography discussion, showing our children where the country is in relation to our home in the United States, and what other countries it neighbors.   I will show them pictures of landmarks and street life, and then we will introduce some basic words in the language, such as hello, please and thank you.

As we sample each snack, one at a time, one of us will read the description, which often includes fun cultural tidbits.  For example, this month one of the snacks from Thailand was coconut-flavored, and the accompanying paragraph discussed how monkeys harvest 99% of Thailand's coconuts, as they are much faster than humans. After each snack, my wife will take a quick poll of who liked the snack and who thought otherwise.   The accompanying pamphlet in the box also includes trivia questions, games, and other cultural information such as descriptions of annual traditions and festivals.   On weekends where we are especially prepared, we will also enjoy a full meal from the country.   Sometimes we'll make it from scratch (often using the suggested recipe from the pamphlet) like when we enjoyed traditional "bangers and mash" from the UK, other times it was as as simple as buying frozen pierogis when we explored Poland, and this month we simply got takeout from our favorite local Thai restaurant.

As we eat and discuss, we will also listen to music from the country.  Universal Yums makes it easy, with curated playlists providing YouTube videos of classical, folk, and modern selections, adding another level of entertainment for the kids.   Throughout, we'll encourage the kids to use some of the basic words we learned in the language.

"Culture Night" won't make them experts, and in some ways it represents a superficial exposure, but at our children's current ages, our regular event is a great first step toward familiarity: introducing them to the food, language and music of numerous countries, in a much more cost-effective way than buying six round-trip plane tickets every month. 

A Letter to My Younger Self

This post is inspired by Bryan Trottier's "Letter to Myself"  Although I've never met him, I had the privilege of serving with his son-in-law on a previous tour.   His well-written letter got me thinking about my life and career so far, and what advice I'd want to give to my younger self.  

Hey bud,

You're about to celebrate your tenth birthday while in the process of moving for the fifth time in your life. I wish I could tell you these relocations get easier as you grow older, but I can't.   All I can tell you is to enjoy the journey and all the friendships you'll make along the way.

Later this year, you’ll want to quit the Boy Scouts.  Fortunately, your mother convinces you to stick with it.  Everything you later accomplish in life you will be able to trace back to the lessons you learned in Scouting.  Also, you should listen to your mother a lot more.  She’s incredibly smart.

In junior high, your father will help you with your homework.  He will chide you for the sloppy way you write out the answers, always saying, “Neatness counts, son.”  You will roll your eyes every time, but it turns out he’s absolutely right.

When you are fifteen, you’ll kiss a girl from Philadelphia, and then move halfway across the world a few days later.   You should write more letters to her while you’re away.  She’s going to be back in your life again, I promise.

Throughout your childhood, you constantly have the need to make your parents proud of you.  I’ll let you in on a little secret: you will always have that need.
Here’s another: you’ve succeeded. 

In college, certain professors will tell you that the great books of the past, especially those written by deceased white European men, aren’t worth reading.  Don’t listen to them.  Read as many of the classics as you possibly can.

But don’t go to so many concerts.  They are rarely as much fun as you think they’ll be.  Except for Radiohead at the Gorge.   That one was incredible.

At the end of flight school, you won’t be assigned the aircraft you originally wanted.  That’s all right, because you’ll move to an amazing part of the country, where you get to fly through the some of the most gorgeous landscape you’ve ever seen, and most importantly, you will work with people who are incredibly smart, funny, and courageous.

(Oh, and you should probably pay more attention to your Physics class in college, especially the lectures on electromagnetic energy.)

When you are twenty-five and on your first deployment, you’ll have a Commanding Officer who makes the job look easy and fun.   Fifteen years later, you’ll find out that he wasn’t acting.  And his example will influence almost every decision you make as a Skipper.

Every chance you get to talk to your grandparents, ask them to tell you a story:  about when they were young; about their parents; about their children.  All too soon, you’ll lose the opportunity.

2001 will somehow be both the best and the worst year of your life. 

This near-constant anxiety that you feel will never go away, but you will learn to tame it, and it will serve you well, keeping you on your toes, helping you anticipate what needs to be done, and ensuring you show the attention to detail necessary to succeed in your chosen profession.

You’ll read a line from the Baghavad Gita that sticks with you: “Perform all acts as worship.”   Try harder to follow that advice.

Often your job will put you into situations that you were never trained nor prepared for.   Think for a second, and then take your best shot.  Even when you miss, you’ll learn what you needed to.

You will eventually figure out the difference between being intelligent and being educated.   Some of the smartest people you’ll know will be the former without being the latter.

Every romantic relationship you have between the ages of fifteen and twenty-six will fail.   It’s a painful process, but it has to be that way so that you ultimately marry the woman who is perfect for you. 

At some point, you’ll find yourself in Baghdad during the hottest summer you can possibly imagine.  When the mortars and rockets start landing near you, try to act a little less scared.

Being a father will be ten times harder than you thought it would be.  And a hundred times better.  

At many points in your career, you’ll compare your occupation to those of your college classmates and wonder if chasing your childhood dream was worth the low pay, the limited perks, and all the time spent away from home.   Eventually you will understand that they are doing what they’re meant to do, and you are doing the same.  It’s a liberating thought.  

When your children ask you to read just one more book before bedtime, read them the book.

Even at forty, you will still seek out your father for advice.  And he will always know the right thing to say, even if it’s as simple as “follow your instincts, son.”

You have this vision of how your life will turn out.   Keep that idea in your head, if only so you can someday realize how much better it actually did.

A Letter To My Ten-Year-Old Daughter

My sweet girl,

I want you to know that your mother and I see everything you do. 

We see you helping with little things around the house:  running upstairs to get a change of clothes for your sister, or giving your younger siblings a bath.   Not because we’ve promised you a reward, or even asked you do it.   You saw it needed to be done, so you did it. 

We see that no matter how many times your brother annoys you or ignores you, you keep trying to engage him.  You’ve never been anything but affectionate and kind. Before you knew what autism was, you realized your brother was special, different, and gifted.

We see you rising above the drama of fifth grade.   When a classmate badmouthed a mutual friend with a hyperbolic statement, you drolly replied, “That’s a bit of an overstatement.”   When the classmate then got upset, you refused to apologize for sticking up for a friend.  You have a maturity that we never had at your age.

We see you notice the affection and respect that your mother and I have for each other, and hope that we are somehow setting the standard for how you expect your future partners to treat you.  

We saw that on the day that your brother went missing and your parents were losing their heads, you were calmly finding a picture of him and scanning it in the printer, in order to make flyers to help people find him.

We see that you are equally comfortable with art and science.   You can talk to me about Greek mythology while you build a robot.   That precious balance will pay rich intellectual dividends for you in the future.

We have so many hopes for you.  Sometimes I worry you fear you might not be able to live up to them.  But here's the secret:  you already have.   At your relatively young age, you recognize that that the struggle to deepen the soul is more important than the climb to success. [1]  

You are on your way to being the best possible version of yourself, and we are so proud of you.

Your loving Father

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[1] David Brooks, “The Road to Character”, Random House 2015.

No Small Parts

"Your daughter is upset."   A few months back, my wife greeted me with these words as I came home from work.   "She didn't get the part she wanted in the school play."

Oh man.  All too often as parents we don't get a chance to recognize the opportunities to help our children build character.  They become lost in the mundane clutter of life, or we simply impart our lessons through the power of example, not necessarily realizing it at the time.

But here it was right in front of me.  A chance to impart an important life lesson.  A fastball right down the middle.  I needed to hit this one out of the park.

It wouldn't be enough to simply preach, "There are no small parts, only small actors."   I would have to build the case in a way that resonated.

She was sullen as I came in the room and even less inclined toward small talk than usual.  We danced around the subject for a bit until I cut to the chase.  "Your mom says you're upset because of the play."   My daughter, with less anguish than I expected, explained it all to me.  In a play about witches, she had to play the old witch.  It was not the part she wanted.  Not because she was old, but because she didn't have many lines.

I tried a few different tacts.   I began with a discussion of "earning your stripes."   The bigger parts, with more lines, were given to the older students, who had more experience being in plays.   If she kept a positive attitude and did well at the parts given to her, in another year or two the director would see she's ready for the bigger parts.   I got a blank stare on this one.

Maybe I needed make it more personal and relate a story from my own life.   I told her about the time in high school I wanted the lead role in "The War on Tatem."  Instead, I had to play Murray Moskowitz, the annoying, wimpy kid with glasses.   She giggled at this, and I explained that one reason I didn't want to play the part was that the nerdy-looking glasses kept making my co-stars laugh and break character.   I ultimately refused to wear them.  But since it was an ensemble cast and we all worked hard to make our characters memorable, we ultimately won an award at the annual drama competition.   And although the "old witch" might not have many lines, it was probably one of the more challenging parts, since my daughter would have to totally change her voice and her mannerisms.   It would require no-kidding acting, and maybe that's why the director wanted her to have that part, because she had faith in my daughter's ability.  By the look on her face, I could tell I was making progress now.

I attempted to follow-up with another story, from when I was adult, about when I found myself side-lined during a deployment just as major combat operations were starting.   It was one of those defining moments that I ultimately learned incredible lessons from, but I could tell that I wasn't making a connection.  (Who knew that a combat story wouldn't resonate with a nine year old?)

So instead I shifted to the story that helped get me through that time in my life:  Apollo 11. She was already familiar with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin and how they walked on the moon.   But I reminded her of all the supporting cast members, in mission control and on the launch pad, in the classroom and on the factory floor, all of whom played an integral part to get them there.  If any one of them had given less than their very best, it could have meant failure for the crew.  And even Michael Collins, though one of only 24 human beings to have flown to the moon, didn't get the lead part he probably wanted on that mission.  But he made sure he performed his role flawlessly.

Boom.  I made the connection.   Her face brightened as she began to see her "old witch" role in a new light.   Certainly she'll face many similar challenges in her life, when she is given a supporting role and must decide how she'll approach it.  I hope some of what we talked about sank it, and manages to resurface when she needs it.

Some may protest here, and say, "Wait, aren't you trying to raise a strong, confident woman?  But didn't you just teach her to settle for a lesser role?  A supporting one?"   To be sure, there will be times when she and the rest of my children will need to stand up for themselves, demand to be taken seriously and given an opportunity to succeed, and ensure they are rewarded equitably for it.   This was not that lesson.   This was the pre-requisite lesson, teaching her that opportunities must first be earned: by showing up prepared, with a positive attitude, and demonstrating a willingness to work hard and learn.

I know that at least part of the talk resonated with her.  A few days later, my wife said she spoke to the director.  Our daughter was doing really well and responding well to instruction.  But she was being stubborn about one thing: the director asked her to wear a pair of prop glasses to make her look older, but my daughter refused.   "Hmm," I murmured pensively in reply.  "I wonder where she got that idea..."    





  


 

Instilling Traits and Values: Starting With the End in Mind

I wrote in a previous post that one of the ways my military career has influenced my parenting is the idea of “starting with the end in mind.”[1] For military professionals, the planning process cannot begin until you have a clearly defined end state.   Or in the words of a mentor of mine, “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.”

When my oldest was not yet a year old, I was at sea on my third deployment and communication with my wife was limited primarily to email.  Although such a constraint can feel like a hindrance, it also opens up avenues to deeper discussion than verbal conversation.   Case in point, we began an email thread in which we shared our thoughts on what kind of adults we wanted our daughter (and future children) to be when they grew up.   In a very real sense, by agreeing on certain character traits that we sought for them, we were establishing “end states” for the important work of instilling values in our children.   The consensus we reached would serve to inform many of the choices we make as parents.   It is a conversation that my wife and I continue to have as we hone the list and adapt our parenting strategies to account for our children’s varied personalities.

Ultimately we came up with the following list of traits:

-Culturally and spiritually literate and tolerant. The educator E.D. Hirsch defined cultural literacy as  “that shifting body of information that our culture has found useful…the foundation of our public discourse.  It allows us to comprehend our daily newspapers and news reports, to understand our peers and leaders, and even to share our jokes.[2]  As an example, once my daughter began reading about Greek and Roman Mythology, she enjoyed the “Percy Jackson” series at a much more profound level and understood why the NASA craft currently in Jupiter’s orbit would be named “Juno.” Ultimately, we want our children familiar with as much culture as possible, including the world’s religions.  Such familiarity we hope will breed tolerance vice contempt.    

-Able to think for themselves.  This is the step beyond cultural literacy.  In the words of Hirsch, “Cultural literacy is shallow; true education is deep.” [3]  We try to encourage critical thinking.  Sometimes this involves answering a question with another question.  (“Why do YOU think it gets cold in the wintertime?”)  When discussing topics such as politics and religion – which we don’t shy from – we often suppress our own opinions, or at least make clear distinctions between facts and personal opinions.

-Confident in their values, morals, and decisions.  This might be the toughest yet most important quality to instill.  Being a “navy brat” and having to adapt to new situations can lead to a chameleon-like qualities.  How do we prevent that?  I have no easy answers.  We try to model appropriate behavior and give our children opportunities to make the types of mistakes that build confidence.  Even before they get to the wider socialization at school, we work to ensure our children, in their interactions with siblings and peers, can strike the balance between cooperation and standing up for themselves. 

-Willing to respectfully question authority.  With confidence instilled, we want our children to then be comfortable in speaking truth to power.   (That includes to their parents.) The other night, my daughter and I were watching “The Martian.”   There is a great scene where the mission director must make a choice between doing what he thinks is right or obeying the direction provided by his boss.   I paused the movie, and we had a lengthy discussion about when it’s acceptable to question and even disobey authority.

-Intellectually curious.  This can’t be forced.  Instead, it’s a spark that must be lit through a variety of activities: reading to them, taking them to museums, asking questions.   One method that’s proven successful for us is linking current popular culture interests with wider intellectual topics.  For example, Harry Potter and Star Wars can lead to a discussion of archetypes and why so many great stories include similar characters, like the wise wizards represented by Dumbledore and Obi Wan Kenobi. 

-Equally comfortable in the outdoors and in the city.  Whether navigating a hiking trail or a subway system, both environments require specific survival skills.  My wife, born and raised in Philadelphia, handles instilling “street smarts”, while I rely on my scouting and military experiences to show them how to use a map and compass or build a campsite. 

-Competitive but sportsmanlike.   This transcends participation in sports, and builds on the previous discussion of confidence.   We want them to shine as individuals, but never at the expense of the team.  To always strive for greater improvement but within the framework of fair play.    

-Hard Workers.  There is a tendency, when we talk about “talent”, to assume that at a basic level, you must be initially good at something to eventually be great at it.  Instead, we want our children to understand that even if a skill or activity (math, swimming, playing an instrument) doesn’t come naturally to them, it doesn’t mean they can’t eventually master it. We foster this by how we give praise (“You worked so hard” vs. “You did so well”) as well as discussing times in our own lives when we had to work hard to overcome a lack of ability.

-Willing to embrace failure and learn from mistakes.  This is closely related to the previous discussion about work ethic.  A fear of failure might prevent them from trying, and becoming, whatever they want.   This is tough, because as parents we spend a lot of time correcting our children and pointing out mistakes.   Much of this is necessary for their development (and basic survival).   However, I know I can do a much better job of giving my kids the space they need to make mistakes and learn from them.   (This applies to leadership at work as well)

-Successful. This has nothing to do with income or status.   It means achieving whatever occupation or vocation they want, as long as it's honest work and it gives them fulfillment.

Any and all opinions are solely my own and do not represent the views of the Department of Defense

[1] See Stephen Covey, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People

[2] Hirsch, E.D., et al, The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know, (1988), ix.

[3] Ibid, xv.

Leadership, at Home and at Sea

As I wrote in the introduction to this blog, I truly believe that the practice of leadership has certain aspects that are universal in application, even toward the seemingly disparate jobs of father and military officer.  I often ponder how I can leverage and mutually reinforce these two leadership roles, without treating my children like subordinates or my subordinates like children.  Fortunately, I have two great exemplars in this pursuit.  My father and brother-in-law (both of them fellow naval officers) managed to set and enforce high standards both at work and at home, and without the use of a boatswain pipe like Georg von Trapp.

So here are some specific examples of how each role has influence the other.   This is certainly not an exhaustive list.  I expect that future posts will build and expand on this concept.     

What the military has taught me about being a parent:

-Start with the end in mind.   A classic from Stephen Covey.  Like one of my mentors often said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get your there. “  Military planning efforts, whether for a theater campaign or one-time airstrike, focus first on the objectives and end states, to ensure that all subsequent decisions about courses of action, assigned tasks, and prioritization of resources will ultimately support the attainment of the desired goal.  The same principles apply to parenting.  What kind of adults do I want  my children to grow up to be?  What values and traits do I hope to instill?  What types of decisions do I want them to make even when I’m not around?  

-It’s not a popularity contest.   “Better to be respected than liked” is an adage I learned as a young naval officer.  This doesn’t mean “go out of your way to piss people off”  but leadership involves getting people to do things they don’t want to do. (Otherwise, they wouldn’t need a leader) It entails motivating people to perform beyond what they may believe possible of themselves.  This is challenging.  It is much easier to accept standards that subordinates think are reasonable and comfortable, and let those become the default setting for expected behavior.  As a parent, I must fight similar temptations to be the best friend instead of the leader.  I have to ensure I consistently give my children what they need instead of regularly allowing what they want.

-Mistakes are the best teachers.  In a military that has increasingly become “zero-defect” in terms of expectations, it is important to remember that mistakes are a necessary facet of learning.  Some of my best commanding officers gave me the latitude to make mistakes, knowing that was the only way I was going to gain experience and confidence.  I think the same applies to raising children.  This doesn’t mean as a military leader or as a parent, that I shrug my shoulders and say, “mistakes happen.” But I have to be able to tell the difference between a premeditated breach of the rules and a well-intentioned mistake.  If it’s the former, I provide appropriate discipline.  If the latter then I counsel and assist in dissecting the incident for lessons to learn.  With regards to parenting, I have much to learn.  Too often I am quick to jump in and help my children do something “perfectly”, instead of giving them the space to try, fail, and then try again. The important thing, whether it’s in the ready room or the living room, is for me to foster an environment where everyone feels comfortable admitting to mistakes and learning from them.   

What parenting has taught me about being a military leader:

-Embrace the chaos.  I like order and organization.  It’s one of the many reasons I was attracted to a career in the military.  And my time in the military has reinforced that need for order.   Although being organized serves me well both as an officer and as a parent (all praise to checklists and routines), I also have to be able to thrive in a chaotic environment.  More than anything, being a father of four has taught me how to cope with noise and entropy: The near-constant chatter at the dinner table after a long day at work.  The clamor of conflicting demands from multiple sources. The minefield of a carpet strewn with legos and dolls.  All of this will serve me well at work, where I must separate the signal from the noise and focus on what’s truly important.     

-Be Patient.  I’ve never been a patient person, and life in the military has not changed that much.  We tend to have a bias towards action.  We loathe inaction. And yet parenting requires the patience of Gandhi.  As we watch our child slowly putting on his shoes, we must fight the urge to put them on for him.   As we help with math homework, we must let them reach the right answer on their own.  At home and at work, my efforts won’t always yield immediate results.  I have to let things develop. 

-It’s not about me.  When I was a brand-new father, a colleague (himself a father of seven) told me that parenting had taught him just how selfish a person he could be.  I am reminded of that marvelous statement every time I find myself chafing at the tedium of getting the baby back to sleep or listening to one more Wiggles song.  (Ah, the irony of being annoyed by my children while writing my blog about fatherhood….)  Parenting is the ultimate example of servant leadership, but my role as a naval officer requires the same selflessness.  I must remember that my energies should always be focused towards ensuring my Sailors have the resources they need to accomplish the mission and then recognizing their tireless efforts.   Or as Lao-tzu wrote over 2500 years ago, ‘When the Master governs, the people are hardly aware he exists…The Master doesn’t talk, he acts.  When his work is done, the people say, ‘Amazing: we did it, all by ourselves!”[1]  

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[1] Lao-tzu, Tao Te Ching: A New English Version, trans. Steven Mitchell (New York: Harper Perennial, 1988)