My parents raised three boys; I am the eldest. As a child, I was expected to help with household chores, one of which was the washing and drying of dishes after meals. My brothers and I took turns, and since no one thought to create a schedule, we constantly fought about whose turn was next, and especially who was to wash and who was to dry. As things evolved, I only wanted to do the drying, because whenever it fell upon me to wash the dishes, the chore became a waking nightmare. I grew to detest the task of washing. Every dishwashing experience ended in bitter tears and my feeling put-down and inadequate. As far as I was concerned, the job was done and the dishes were clean, but apparently that was not enough for my mother. After washing the last dish or utensil, I would dry my hands and leave the sink. At that point, my mother became agitatedly angry and yelled at me, berating me for not completing the job: "You never finish!" or "I don't know what's wrong with you; why don't you do it right!?" she would scream. And I would leave the kitchen bawling. When I was eleven or twelve years old, I was visiting my grandparents by myself. In the evening when dinner was over, I offered to "do the dishes." After washing and drying the dishes, I started to leave the sink, and my grandmother said something like, "You're not quite finished. Here, let me show you." She took the washrag that I had left by the side of the sink and cleaned the grime and water drippings in the sink, on the counter around it, and on the spigot, folded the washrag, and placed it in its holder. Suddenly it became clear why my mother had been so upset with me all those years. I had not been doing what she expected me to do, but she never took the time to describe, demonstrate, or explain what she wanted. She must have seen my lack of compliance with her wishes as disobedience, and she apparently was at a loss to know what to do about it, except to berate and yell at me.

            One morning a few years ago, I stepped out to go for a walk. My neighbor was just leaving to take her daughter to school and was backing her car out of their driveway as I approached. She opened the window to her car to discuss something with me. The conversation grew rather lengthy; her young daughter became fidgety and began playing with knobs on the dashboard. My neighbor interrupted our discussion several times to admonish the girl, with an increasingly angry voice, "Don't do that!" and "Stop playing with that!" Finally, I said to the mother, "It might be helpful if you tell her what TO DO, rather than what not to do." She thought for a moment and turned to her daughter and said, "How about doing some problems in your workbook?" The girl reached in the back seat of the car, took a book out of her backpack, and opened it. We continued and finally concluded our conversation without any further interruptions.

            Negative instructions such as these are common. I hear people in all types of relationships admonish each other NOT to do one thing or another. A parent says to his/her child, "Don't touch that," or "Don't hit your little sister," or "Don't play with your food," and so on and on and on. A person says to his/her friend or significant other, "Don't answer the phone like that," or "I wish you wouldn't talk to my parents like that," or "Don't do your exercises here," or "Stop making excuses," or ... the list is endless. Someone says to his/her parent, "Don't talk to me as if I were a child," or "Don't do that to your grandchild; she's my child," or "Don't be a busybody," and so on and so on and so on. I could fill many pages with examples of directive statements starting with "Don't" and "I wish you wouldn't" and "Stop ... (doing what are or were doing)."

            to youngsters, they seem far, far more inclined to command children to stop what they are doing or warn "Don't ..." than offer guiding words clearly describing what IS desired. And if the children do comply, they are considered disobedient. Yet, how can they obey when (1) they have no idea what alternatives are available and (2) there are no consequences after doing what they are told not to do? The child must either be confused, not knowing what TO do, or disbelieve that the adult means what s/he says, because the words are not connected with any action.

            I was walking in the mall the other day and heard a father yell out to his daughter who was running down the hallway, "Stop, Rachael!" Rachael did not stop. The father started to jog after her yelling, "Stop! Slow down! Wait until we catch up to you." The father did not sound convincing, and Rachael just kept on running. The message I gleaned from that was that the father frequently tried to direct Rachael, but there were no consequences; the father did not really mean what he was saying, so his words had no effect. Yet, I suspect that the father would label his daughter "disobedient." It seems more prevalent in our society for parents to place the blame on the child than for them to take responsibility themselves for seeking ways they might go about obtaining desired results.

            If the father were an effective disciplinarian, he would help his child from the very beginning to understand his words. If he said, "Don't run," and meant it, he would ensure that the child would stop running. How? By picking up and holding the child or by keeping her on a leash. But that is a negative approach. A more positive approach would be to talk to the daughter beforehand and tell her the rules along with the positive consequences that would ensue if she followed them (e.g., he will feel good about taking her other places too) and the negative consequences if she didn't. If they are already at the mall, he could react immediately and crouch in front of the daughter and say, "You want to run? After we finish here, I'll take you to the track at the playground and we shall run. Or we can run together on the grassy area in the park, but you must stay with me. Running is not permitted here in the mall, because you might get lost or hurt. If you cannot walk with me, you either will not go with me in the future or I must carry you or keep you on a leash." There can be no alternative. And the father must do the best he can to follow through with his promise, or else the child will have no respect for what he says. If the child holds the father's hand but forgets for a moment and starts running in the mall, the father stops the child at once and says something to the effect, "Ah, I see you have forgotten what I told you. That's okay, but I want to remind you that when we are in the mall, you must walk. I love you and I don't want to lose you. It is important that we stay together so you know where I am and I know where you are. That way we can have fun together. If you feel like running, I'll take you to the playground after we leave here" (and do it). These comments show respect for the child, demonstrate concern for the child's safety, and provide a model of caring communication by expressing the following: (1) consideration for the child's need, (2) description of the desired behavior, and (3) an explanation of the reasons why the rule was established.

            I vaguely recall an interaction with my older daughter not too long after she had obtained her driver's license. One evening she asked to borrow my car. I was completely confident in her driving ability. (Hey, it was I who taught her how to drive, and she was an excellent student.) But she wanted to go by herself to a party at a friend's home quite some distance away, and the closest route was through an area that I felt might not be safe. I was frightened for her in the event the car broke down there. I declined her request. She asked why, and I told her that my reasons were irrational - mainly that I was afraid. She asked what I feared, and I listed about six potential threats in my imagination. I don't recall them all, but one had to do with the area I imagined she would be driving through, another had to do with knowing where she was and that she was safe, and a third had to do with her resistance at returning home at an appointed time; she had told me the party might be a late one. What I do recall was that she addressed each of my concerns with respect for my feelings: she would take a different, more acceptable route - both ways -- even though it was farther, she would call me when she arrived at her destination, she would also call me every hour thereafter and keep me informed as to where she was and that she was okay, and she promised she would be home at any time I specified. I was impressed and satisfied. I changed my mind. She went to her party, and she telephoned me as promised and arrived home promptly when she said she would. I was very grateful. The elements of success here, I believe, were these: I was honest about my feelings, analyzed my reactions assiduously, and communicated them to her; she was respectful of me and careful to address each of my concerns, neither one of us was critical of the other in any way; and we both acted reliably.

            Both of my daughters were reliable as far back as I can remember. I doubt I would feel today that it is as safe to let them run as free as when they were children, because child napping has become more prevalent than it was only twenty-five years ago. When we went to Disneyland or Magic Mountain, for example, they went by themselves on rides that held no interest for me. We agreed on a time and place to meet - sometimes one or two hours later - and they would invariably be at our meeting place promptly at the time set. Because of their repeated dependability, I could usually rely on their doing what they said they were going to do. Perhaps they learned reliability from their parents. My guiding principles were these: (1) make a concerted, conscious effort to follow through with stated intentions; (2) try to provide more good stuff than bad; reward and praise as frequently as possible, and punish when necessary; (3) set clearly defined limits and explain the purpose the limits served; and (4) explain fully the reasons for whatever directions are given to them. A child learns nothing when a parent justifies instructions with the comment, "Because I said so."

            Explanations can replace don'ts. For example, instead of saying to a child, "Don't touch that lamp bulb!" we can say, "If you touch that lamp bulb, it will burn your fingers and it will hurt." We can be careful not to state intentions as facts, i.e., we can strive never to make such a statement as, "Next Sunday, I shall take you fishing" or "We'll go to the playground tomorrow" or "I shall take you to see the movie on the weekend." Instead, the child can be taught that after making plans, unexpected occurrences might arise to prevent us from carrying out our plans; there is no way to be absolutely certain about the future. So, instead of saying, "I shall ..." or "We'll ...", we can use phrases like, "Let's plan to ...." and "I shall do the best I can to ...." And if "plans" pan out most of the time, children learn about reliability.

            It seems to me that people often expect others to read their minds or know what they want or mean without explanation. When I was younger, I know I did that - and I had no idea I was doing it. Since we are intrinsically aware of ourselves (see my paper on "Existential Consciousness"), it appears to me that people frequently act as if others somehow have the same awareness of what goes on within us as we do. In my practice, I have especially observed the phenomenon of a mind-reading expectation between parents and children and between spouses. And it works in both directions. Children often expect their parents to understand and take care of them without having told the adults what they wanted. That is especially true when parents and other adults set themselves up as gods by making such self-elevating statements as, "Because I said so." More humble adults will explain to their youngsters that only by communicating clearly can anyone find out what someone else wants.

            As mentioned earlier, parents sometimes become angry with their children for failing to perform tasks without having taught them what is expected, as if children emerge from the womb knowing exactly what their parents are going to want from them! Children must LEARN about boundaries and limit setting, and they can only learn them if someone teaches them by setting and enforcing boundaries and limits. We are not born knowing how to discipline ourselves; that must be taught to us by example and by imposition. If we are going to learn self-discipline, someone must impose desired patterns of behavior upon us and show us through their own behavior how to do it.

            A father once came to me in desperation because his young teenage son did not carry out his chores at home. For purposes of discussion here, the boy's responsibility will be defined as carrying trash from inside the house to the trash container in the backyard every evening. The son had agreed to this daily chore, but seemed to have difficulty remembering to do it. Instead, the father spent several hours each evening nagging his son until the boy finally took out the trash. The boy and his father were constantly irritated with one another, and the mother suffered tension as well. I wondered if the father had nothing better to do than spend his evenings berating and cajoling his son. But the desperate father had no idea how to get the boy to act on his own. (If someone did not teach the boy, how would he ever learn self-discipline?) Through questioning, I learned that the boy's greatest desire was to amass money, and he received a substantial allowance each week. I instructed the father to do the following: (1) Sit down with your son and tell him that you will no longer nag him - you will not even remind him - to take the trash out. (2) Walk your son through the steps you expect him to follow (don't do it yourself; instead, guide him through the process). (3) Instruct him that if on any day by 6:00 P.M. precisely the trash is not taken out from the house and/or placed at the curb on Thursdays, 50¢ would automatically be subtracted from his allowance, and you take the trash out yourself. (4) If your son has not fulfilled his responsibility completely for any two successive weeks (14 straight days of success), then from that point on, $1.00 would be subtracted from his allowance each time he failed to carry out his chores. Thus, his allowance could be reduced by up to $7.00 a week. The father agreed to follow my recommendations, and he did. The boy was furious when he received hardly any allowance for the next three weeks, but after he saw that his father meant and did what he had told him, the youth rapidly became increasingly more reliable until he was receiving his full allowance consistently, and the father was able to use his evening time more productively. Subsequently, the home became a more peaceful place and the relationship between father and son improved considerably!

            Another father came to see me about his "lazy" son who was purportedly very bright, but was receiving average grades in school. The father complained bitterly to his son every day that he was not doing his homework and that he was showing no interest in learning. At the time, his son was entering the ninth grade. Like the boy in the previous example, this boy also had a desire for money more than anything else. (Other children want toys, video games, clothes, parties, friends to sleep over, etc., but the boys in these examples both happen to have wanted to amass cash. These desires serve as the means by which to punish and reward children for their behaviors.) I ascertained from the father that, more than anything else, he wanted his son to study and earn good grades in school. I suggested that he might offer his son a monetary incentive for making good grades. The father took my suggestion very seriously, and made an extremely generous offer to his son: for every "A" the boy received from that moment until he graduated, father would deposit $X,XXX in a special account for his son, accessible to him upon his graduation from high school. In addition, the father added, for every semester that he received "A's" in all his classes, the reward would be doubled. To the father's great joy, the boy made all "A's" every semester from that time until he graduated from high school. By the time the boy finished high school, he had more money in the bank than his father did! He used it constructively! A few years later, I was delighted to read about some of his accomplishments in the newspaper.

            When my younger daughter was six or seven years old, she was seated at the dinner table and refused to eat her vegetables. At that age, she seemed to thrive on meat and bread, eschewing fruits and vegetables. I said something like, "Vegetables are very important for good nutrition. I want you to eat some, even just a little." She said, "Make me, daddy." It was not said in a challenging way. What I heard was, "Be firm with me daddy. If you really feel it is important, do whatever you have to do to convince me to do it." She was teaching me! I thanked her and told her that she could have no more bread and would have no dessert if she did not eat some of her vegetables. It was especially important to me that she understood that whether she did what I wanted or not, it was her choice; the consequences were mine.

            It seems to me that one lesson to be learned from these examples has to do with having a positive, constructive approach in relating to others. The effective message is not the harsh and insistent, "Stop what you're doing right now!!" Rather, it has a guiding and caring quality like "For these reasons [list], I would like you to do XYZ, and here is what I'm going to do to help (or motivate) you: [specify]."

            I once heard a lecturer describe a very reasonable sounding method of discipline. He was emphasizing punishment -- specifically "time out," which he defined as sitting isolated in a chair for a specified length of time. His formula went something like this: (1) Tell the child to stop doing the forbidden thing. (2) If s/he continues, tell the child that s/he will have a ten-minute (longer, if the child is older; shorter, if younger) time-out if s/he doesn't stop in three minutes (3) If s/he continues doing the unwanted act, physically move the child to the location of the time-out place and set a timer. All of this is done lovingly but firmly.

            This approach to punishment can be very effective, especially if combined with a much larger amount of praise and reward when the child behaves as the disciplinarian desires. However, many parents and other caretakers grow angry when the child refuses to be compliant. That anger comes from the adult's identification with his/her inner child that WANTS the outer child to yield without resistance. Often, the disciplinarian is victimized by an inner need to be a "nice" parent who is "supposed to" avoid distressing the child. But that goal becomes thwarted when one's offspring misbehaves and the adult feels "forced" to follow through with limit-setting punishment that s/he does not want to have to mete out. So the victimized adult complains, "It feels like my kid is making me be the bad guy, and I have to do something about it," implying doing something that the "kid" won't like. This conflict angers the victimized child within the adult.

            When the adult punishes while angry, the conflict becomes a struggle between two out-of-control kids, rather than an effort to help the outer impulsive child learn self-control by a responsible adult functioning as a care-ful and thoughtful guide. Notice the implication in the above complaint ("It feels like my kid is MAKING ME be the bad guy, ....") that the child has the overwhelming power to force the parent do something s/he doesn't want to do. As a consequence of the adult's subjugated attitude - whether it is expressed as anger, rage, or abuse, on the one hand, or as fear, resignation, or withdrawal on the other -- the child could be driven by the adult's attitude to become literally a practicing tyrant.

            Below is a list of some basic principles of child treatment I recommend to parents and other child caretakers. (1) Be consistent, (2) Be as reliable as possible, (3) Be honest, (4) Set limits only when they are truly important to your soul, (5) Keep in mind that children have a mind of their own and have the right to defy your wishes, (6) Set limits and define consequences carefully and clearly, (7) Praise as much as and whenever possible, (8) Respect their souls as your own, (9) Differ with them, but never put them down, call them stupid, or tell them they can't do something, (10) Remember, they did not ask to be born; they were conceived out of our own personal needs, hopefully the need to spread our love.

            Most of the elements have been discussed earlier, but I'd like to comment on (4). When my older daughter was 8 or 9, she was invited to a friend's birthday party. Her mother had taken her to a store to purchase a cute, frilly, pink party dress for the occasion. When the day came for her to go to the party, my daughter did not want to change her clothes. Instead, she wanted to go - no, she insisted on going --to the party in her T-shirt and jeans. Her mother was infuriated and they engaged in a battle royal. I interfered and spoke to her mother saying, "No one will be damaged by whatever clothes she wears." Her mother said, "But she'll be embarrassed, and besides, we spent good money for that party dress!" I said, "Well, we can take the dress back to the store, since she will not have worn it. Also, if she is embarrassed, then she'll learn from the experience. Allow her to learn by living, rather than our having to tell her what is likely to happen." She relented, and my daughter went in her blue jeans. After the party, I learned that she not only had a great time, but also she was totally accepted in the clothes she wore, while her mother (who was at the party with her) saw that everyone had a great time. In the end, her mother was grateful and felt proud of her daughter for asserting herself.

            That reminds me of a Sufi story about the Hodja and the time he was invited to Hallil's house for dinner. Hodja (a Sufi teacher) was coming in from working in the fields, and he met a friend who yelled out to him that he was already late for his dinner appointment at Hallil's. Hodja decided to go straight to Hallil's house without changing his clothes. He walked in the door and was greeted by the sight of many of Hallil's friends seated around a table laden with food, but he was utterly ignored by everyone. He tried to greet Hallil and his other guests, but no one seemed to notice him. So he left. He hurried home, yelled to his wife to lay out his best suit of clothes, and took a shower. He dressed quickly and returned to the home of Hallil. No sooner had he opened the door than Hallil rose from his seat and greeted and welcomed Hodja enthusiastically, as did many of the other guests. Hallil drew him to a seat right next to himself, and began passing him dishes of food. Hodja accepted a bowl of soup, opened a pocket in his suit and poured the soup in the pocket saying, "Drink, suit, drink!" He took some rice and poured some in another pocket saying, "Eat, suit, eat!" A large helping of stewed lamb went into another pocket with, "Eat, suit, eat!" The crowd grew very quiet and concerned for Hodja's sanity." Hallil asked, "Hodja, what are you doing?" Hodja answered, "I came here earlier in my work clothes and no one acknowledged me. Then I returned in my fine suit and was welcomed warmly, so I assume it was my suit that was invited for dinner, not me."

            Perhaps I had told that story to my daughter. I told fairy tales to my daughters very frequently. Some were stories I found in books, others were creations that emerged out of my own unconscious. Such symbolic stories provided a medium through which to convey lessons and morals without being preachy. Two primary messages I strove to convey were (1) People can differ in any number of ways, but still have respect for one another and (2) We cannot necessarily give what someone may want from us, but we can offer what we have in ourselves.

            I am firmly convinced that no parent (or parent surrogate) can function out of parental care, support and guidance if that parent needs his/her child's "love." As long as we focus on what we get from someone else, we cannot focus on what is right with our own soul and we cannot give freely the gift of what we have to offer. And we each have no more and no less than the uniqueness of what we are to offer those who can receive that gift.