When is it okay to be passionate about the things you do and give yourself over to the things that you believe in?
When I was a young actor coming up in New York and LA, all I wanted was "do" my craft. I didn't even care if it was a craft or an art or something that was just plain fun, all I knew is that I wanted to be a part of something that was bigger than me.
During the rehearsal process of the last plays that the Negro Ensemble Company did at the 52nd Street Theater in New York back in 1986 (called The War Party), I was confronted by two of my colleagues for "duffing it." Duffing it in Southern African American vernacular means that you are not taking things seriously. I was horrified that anybody would think that I wasn't taking my work seriously. After all, the play was one of the the first truly paying gigs that I ever had. I was excited (inside), but looking back twenty years later I believe that my fear had gotten the best of me. I couldn't show the fear that I felt, which had to do with being a part of a theater company that had produced A Soldier's Play and the likes of Denzel Washington and Samuel L. Jackson.
What my two fellow actors were trying to say is, 'You [Brian] should be appreciative to have been given the opportunity to work because these moments are fleeting.'
They were right. Now, I corrected course after their "intervention." I began to take notes when the director gave them, and I looked more attentive, even though my process back then was to close my eyes half-lidded and drink in the notes that the director gave after each rehearsal. The director was an icon and one was one of those grand old men of the American Theater. I just didn't seem like I cared. By not showing "filial piety" to my theater forebears, I was thumbing my nose at the work that they had given to us, the younger generation, over the years.
That director of The War Party and the artistic director of the Negro Ensemble Company was Douglass Turner Ward, who I regard as one of the greatest and under appreciated figures of the American stage. His play, Day of Absence, was one of those pieces that mostly African American theater companies and kids in high school did as a contest play or reader's theater. Doug Ward's play turned us on to acting and being and seeing ourselves in the theater mirror.
I miss the process that is acting. It truly is a progressive practice--both in design and execution. There is so much discovery and innovation in the theater, but the play itself does not change. What you bring to it makes meaning.
I guess when I look back on it I can say that I had a very progressive upbringing as a student because I was often in the theater. That's all I really wanted to live for back then: the theater and the good friends that I found in it.
So, when you are looking around for what you are passionate about in your life, remember the things that you are being led to and that you gave yourself over to with abandon. Perhaps it's painting, kicking a soccer ball, understanding philosophy, or just hanging out on stage; whatever is your passion, be compelled to follow it wherever it might lead you.
I highly recommend Douglass Turner Ward's play!
Find your passion with Julia Cameron's road map to artistic recovery.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Behavior Modification: Take Two, Consistency
Last time I discussed the cons of behavior modification. This time I am approaching it from the other side. When are behavior modification techniques worth it?
The first thing to keep in mind is that you must be consistent. If you waver at all, you're toast. Children are like lawyers in training. They look for the one loophole or chink in the armor, and they then try to exploit it for what it's worth. Exploiting usually means giving them something they want (even though you know better) or trying to catch you during a vulnerable moment. Just remember, you know what's best. I always urge parents to cultivate and listen to that little voice inside of them that tells you what is and is not appropriate, or a kind of parents' version of Jiminy Cricket. It's your conscience, of course.
If your conscience says, "No matter how much they beg to stay up a little later to finish that television program, you know that they will be absolute monsters without a full ten hours of sleep." Encouraging and hearing that parental voice will be important in making behavior modification work for you.
Take my son for instance: He has a very litigious mind, for a seven year old. Although he's only in the first grade, he knows that he can wear his Mom down if he keeps asking the question over and over again, rephrasing every so often to get the most out of his query. He's Perry Mason and Matlock all rolled into one.
"Can I please? Can I, huh? Yesterday, you told me I could. But you said…"
The latest battle is about being rough with the dog. We have a ten-month old labradoodle (yep, that's a breed) named Hershey who is taking all sorts of loving punishment from this very sweet and well meaning tyrant known as my son. I just don't want the dog to be loved to death.
A typical conversation between he and his mother might be:
"I am being gentle!"
"Pulling the dog's tail to get his attention is not being gentle. If you do it again, you're getting a timeout."
Even after the fifth or twentieth timeout, reason or punishment doesn't seem to make the situation any better. Behavior modification to the rescue. My wife rolls out the arts and crafts paper to draw up the obligatory signage for what can and can't be done and what will and won't be taken away.
"Four checks mean you have been caught being gentle with the dog and you get to play a computer game. Four zeros means just the opposite; no computer games and a loss of television privileges, which amounts to two hours on the weekend."
From my office I hear all of this go down and I just know that I'll get dragged in the middle somehow.
The initial novelty of the behavior mod game works. Immediately, for a day or so, loving strokes on the brown fuzzy back abounds. No more yelling, no more tears. Mom is happy. I, remembering what I wrote in my previous column, am ready to get out the salt, pepper, and ketchup to eat a little crow. Behavior modification seems to work.
Well, hold on. Now I get initiated into this endeavor, which means the entire thing goes to Hades in a hand basket because I never signed up to be a UN Peace Keeper between the nations of dog, Mom, and boy. Granted, I don't like the loving torment aimed at our new pouch, but Hershey's young and quick with very sharp teeth, I figure he can take care of himself.
Well, there I go again, as Ronnie might say. I am dragged back into the fray with awful results. When my wife is at work on the weekends and I am Mr. Mom, I don't know where the behavior mod sheet is kept and my son conveniently forgets. One day gets completely subverted because her system is either lost, stolen, or just plain incomprehensible to me.
My bad, I say when she comes home, which means that I could not keep the reward and punishment plates spinning long enough to keep it all going. I either have no nerve or am a closet anarchist. The system fails because we are not consistent.
In some ways, behavior modification programs are like a New Year's diet and exercise regime. It may work for a little bit, but come Valentine's Day, you're staring at that box of chocolates like they were your last, best friend.
Make reason the partner in disciplining your children. We should no more treat our children the same than we would eat that last piece of chocolate at the very bottom of the double-decker, heart-shaped box. Yes, you might end up doing it anyway, but you know it's not going to be all that appealing.
Indeed, I would urge everyone to enter into a conversation with your children about everything, not just discipline. It certainly does not have to be some democracy. No, no, no, no, and no. But your children are pretty savvy folks. Remember, they came from you. Go ahead, talk to them about anything, even their punishments and rewards.
You never know what you're gonna get-in the end.
© 2002 by Brian W. Thomas (reprinted from A Child's Book.com--www.achildsbook.com)
The first thing to keep in mind is that you must be consistent. If you waver at all, you're toast. Children are like lawyers in training. They look for the one loophole or chink in the armor, and they then try to exploit it for what it's worth. Exploiting usually means giving them something they want (even though you know better) or trying to catch you during a vulnerable moment. Just remember, you know what's best. I always urge parents to cultivate and listen to that little voice inside of them that tells you what is and is not appropriate, or a kind of parents' version of Jiminy Cricket. It's your conscience, of course.
If your conscience says, "No matter how much they beg to stay up a little later to finish that television program, you know that they will be absolute monsters without a full ten hours of sleep." Encouraging and hearing that parental voice will be important in making behavior modification work for you.
Take my son for instance: He has a very litigious mind, for a seven year old. Although he's only in the first grade, he knows that he can wear his Mom down if he keeps asking the question over and over again, rephrasing every so often to get the most out of his query. He's Perry Mason and Matlock all rolled into one.
"Can I please? Can I, huh? Yesterday, you told me I could. But you said…"
The latest battle is about being rough with the dog. We have a ten-month old labradoodle (yep, that's a breed) named Hershey who is taking all sorts of loving punishment from this very sweet and well meaning tyrant known as my son. I just don't want the dog to be loved to death.
A typical conversation between he and his mother might be:
"I am being gentle!"
"Pulling the dog's tail to get his attention is not being gentle. If you do it again, you're getting a timeout."
Even after the fifth or twentieth timeout, reason or punishment doesn't seem to make the situation any better. Behavior modification to the rescue. My wife rolls out the arts and crafts paper to draw up the obligatory signage for what can and can't be done and what will and won't be taken away.
"Four checks mean you have been caught being gentle with the dog and you get to play a computer game. Four zeros means just the opposite; no computer games and a loss of television privileges, which amounts to two hours on the weekend."
From my office I hear all of this go down and I just know that I'll get dragged in the middle somehow.
The initial novelty of the behavior mod game works. Immediately, for a day or so, loving strokes on the brown fuzzy back abounds. No more yelling, no more tears. Mom is happy. I, remembering what I wrote in my previous column, am ready to get out the salt, pepper, and ketchup to eat a little crow. Behavior modification seems to work.
Well, hold on. Now I get initiated into this endeavor, which means the entire thing goes to Hades in a hand basket because I never signed up to be a UN Peace Keeper between the nations of dog, Mom, and boy. Granted, I don't like the loving torment aimed at our new pouch, but Hershey's young and quick with very sharp teeth, I figure he can take care of himself.
Well, there I go again, as Ronnie might say. I am dragged back into the fray with awful results. When my wife is at work on the weekends and I am Mr. Mom, I don't know where the behavior mod sheet is kept and my son conveniently forgets. One day gets completely subverted because her system is either lost, stolen, or just plain incomprehensible to me.
My bad, I say when she comes home, which means that I could not keep the reward and punishment plates spinning long enough to keep it all going. I either have no nerve or am a closet anarchist. The system fails because we are not consistent.
In some ways, behavior modification programs are like a New Year's diet and exercise regime. It may work for a little bit, but come Valentine's Day, you're staring at that box of chocolates like they were your last, best friend.
Make reason the partner in disciplining your children. We should no more treat our children the same than we would eat that last piece of chocolate at the very bottom of the double-decker, heart-shaped box. Yes, you might end up doing it anyway, but you know it's not going to be all that appealing.
Indeed, I would urge everyone to enter into a conversation with your children about everything, not just discipline. It certainly does not have to be some democracy. No, no, no, no, and no. But your children are pretty savvy folks. Remember, they came from you. Go ahead, talk to them about anything, even their punishments and rewards.
You never know what you're gonna get-in the end.
© 2002 by Brian W. Thomas (reprinted from A Child's Book.com--www.achildsbook.com)
Monday, March 26, 2007
Behavior Modification: Does It Work?
You hear often that there is a time and place for everything.
I see it at my local warehouse-type grocery store all the time. Some child behaving badly and a parent promising to buy the little darling a treat if they "can just keep it together until we get to the car." Many parents even have the system worked out ahead of time with poker chips, check marks, or even money as the prize for good behavior. Of course, bad behavior means the loss of the same "dear": item and the bountiful harvest that waits.
Some parents are on to the faulty logic, realizing that some of the techniques they use to manage their children's lives no longer work anymore after some unseen milestone or over time.
Yet, can behavior modification work at all when trying to instill good habits or attempting to break bad ones?
In my humble estimation, "No!" I have certainly used behavior modification with my own children and even in some schools that I have worked at as their standard policy. I have seen great gains with behavior modification with small children to get them to read, practice piano, or take out the garbage. However, behavior modification fails as a standalone training method with children because of what it suggests.
Before we get to the suggestion part, let's look at the places in which I have seen behavior modification work. A friend of mine gives his six-year old son a quarter every time he looks a new friendly acquaintance in the eye, usually someone from his church, shakes hands, and says hello. So, the drill might look like this: Little Tommy comes over to a visiting Pastor McCready, staring right into the old reverends peepers, and bellows, "Fine sermon Reverend. Thank you for coming."
Now, don't misunderstand, it's important for children to be "raised right." Eye contact and a proper greeting may be one of the more important things that you can teach a child. It may even dramatically improve civility in Western Civilization. However, what I am suggesting here is that the good reverend just became a quarter on its way to a nice model train engine from the local hobby shop. Now, it doesn't mean that Tommy will always see his new friends as dollar signs, but the odds aren't so good. It's like having a stereotypical stage mother (or parent, to be politically correct) as your guide where almost everything is done to please someone else and where people are seen as a means to an end rather than an end in itself.
There may be people who would argue differently with me, and I'm willing to take them on. Behavior modification (checklists, marbles, money, chips, etc.) offers a temporary stopgap to reasoning. As training it is least effective for teaching the true value of people and things because children do, because they know they will "get" something in return rather than for the intrinsic value of a thing. That's why good grades and test scores may get you into college, but it will not make you a true learner or a person who is naturally curious.
Like my good friend, you may very well get respectful kids, but it's always done at a price.
If a child is rude, they need to know that being rude is not cool. Should they lose things for bad behavior? You betcha!! A child should not be rewarded for awfulness. However, should the technique of gaining and losing things become ingrained by bribes and punishments? Probably not.
Making your child see the importance of what's valuable to you, rather than getting him or her to win or lose at things, is they key ingredient in this recipe.
© 2002 by Brian W. Thomas (reprinted from A Child's Book.com--www.achildsbook.com)
I see it at my local warehouse-type grocery store all the time. Some child behaving badly and a parent promising to buy the little darling a treat if they "can just keep it together until we get to the car." Many parents even have the system worked out ahead of time with poker chips, check marks, or even money as the prize for good behavior. Of course, bad behavior means the loss of the same "dear": item and the bountiful harvest that waits.
Some parents are on to the faulty logic, realizing that some of the techniques they use to manage their children's lives no longer work anymore after some unseen milestone or over time.
Yet, can behavior modification work at all when trying to instill good habits or attempting to break bad ones?
In my humble estimation, "No!" I have certainly used behavior modification with my own children and even in some schools that I have worked at as their standard policy. I have seen great gains with behavior modification with small children to get them to read, practice piano, or take out the garbage. However, behavior modification fails as a standalone training method with children because of what it suggests.
Before we get to the suggestion part, let's look at the places in which I have seen behavior modification work. A friend of mine gives his six-year old son a quarter every time he looks a new friendly acquaintance in the eye, usually someone from his church, shakes hands, and says hello. So, the drill might look like this: Little Tommy comes over to a visiting Pastor McCready, staring right into the old reverends peepers, and bellows, "Fine sermon Reverend. Thank you for coming."
Now, don't misunderstand, it's important for children to be "raised right." Eye contact and a proper greeting may be one of the more important things that you can teach a child. It may even dramatically improve civility in Western Civilization. However, what I am suggesting here is that the good reverend just became a quarter on its way to a nice model train engine from the local hobby shop. Now, it doesn't mean that Tommy will always see his new friends as dollar signs, but the odds aren't so good. It's like having a stereotypical stage mother (or parent, to be politically correct) as your guide where almost everything is done to please someone else and where people are seen as a means to an end rather than an end in itself.
There may be people who would argue differently with me, and I'm willing to take them on. Behavior modification (checklists, marbles, money, chips, etc.) offers a temporary stopgap to reasoning. As training it is least effective for teaching the true value of people and things because children do, because they know they will "get" something in return rather than for the intrinsic value of a thing. That's why good grades and test scores may get you into college, but it will not make you a true learner or a person who is naturally curious.
Like my good friend, you may very well get respectful kids, but it's always done at a price.
If a child is rude, they need to know that being rude is not cool. Should they lose things for bad behavior? You betcha!! A child should not be rewarded for awfulness. However, should the technique of gaining and losing things become ingrained by bribes and punishments? Probably not.
Making your child see the importance of what's valuable to you, rather than getting him or her to win or lose at things, is they key ingredient in this recipe.
© 2002 by Brian W. Thomas (reprinted from A Child's Book.com--www.achildsbook.com)
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Right Decisions
How does a person know that he or she has made a good decision? Bad decisions seem to abound not only in our lives, but also in the lives of the children that we love. Mark Twain is credited with saying, "Good decisions come from bad decisions, which lead to good decisions."
For those of you who know me know that I turned 40 about three weeks ago. I have been trying to stay as active as I can, especially given the breakneck pace that I keep-coaching varsity baseball, being an assistant school head, a Master's Degree class every Monday night, father and husband, as well as trying to get at least some sleep occasionally to offset that loopy stare one gets during sleep deprivation.
Yet, I wouldn't have it any other way. I noticed that I didn't have enough to do, so I began playing men's baseball after a season's hiatus. A friend of mine in the Bay Area calls it Men's Little League. Today was the first game. I do the things that everyone should before beginning any rigorous activity; I eat a burrito and haul around 45 pounds of gear, which is the equivalent of a five-year old strapped to my back. Carrying around a little extra weight shouldn't be that big of an issue, right? I have seen women in the mall lugging around toddlers the size of Barry Bonds on their hips. I certainly can clean and jerk a little old bag of catcher's equipment and a stash of two-year old Milky Way Bars about 200 feet to the dugout.
Well, I arrive before the pitcher starts his warm-up tosses, and I feel my left side ache like I have just been kicked in the ribs by Frances the Talking Mule. You guessed it, I ripped some muscle before "play ball" was even barked out by the ump. Great decision!
What does any of this have to do with books? Very little to be honest. It's all about aging, if anything. Aging is one of the few things that we all do regardless of what tends to divide us as people. We see or saw our parents as their body change (thank you, Bonnie Raitt) and we feel our own lives alter and even fade a bit every time a milestone is passed.
Should I take more precautions to prevent the onset of the inevitable? Maybe. Is there a magic pill that can bring back old hair or lost virility? Yes, but why? All I know is that the decisions that give me the most pleasure are simple. They have to do with seeing the smile on my wife's face when I do some incredible deed that I didn't know would bring happiness (like folding the laundry) or the laughter of my children when I read a book where they actually get the jokes. Good decisions; it's in the way that you use them, I guess."
© 2002 by Brian W. Thomas (reprinted from A Child's Book.com--www.achildsbook.com)
For those of you who know me know that I turned 40 about three weeks ago. I have been trying to stay as active as I can, especially given the breakneck pace that I keep-coaching varsity baseball, being an assistant school head, a Master's Degree class every Monday night, father and husband, as well as trying to get at least some sleep occasionally to offset that loopy stare one gets during sleep deprivation.
Yet, I wouldn't have it any other way. I noticed that I didn't have enough to do, so I began playing men's baseball after a season's hiatus. A friend of mine in the Bay Area calls it Men's Little League. Today was the first game. I do the things that everyone should before beginning any rigorous activity; I eat a burrito and haul around 45 pounds of gear, which is the equivalent of a five-year old strapped to my back. Carrying around a little extra weight shouldn't be that big of an issue, right? I have seen women in the mall lugging around toddlers the size of Barry Bonds on their hips. I certainly can clean and jerk a little old bag of catcher's equipment and a stash of two-year old Milky Way Bars about 200 feet to the dugout.
Well, I arrive before the pitcher starts his warm-up tosses, and I feel my left side ache like I have just been kicked in the ribs by Frances the Talking Mule. You guessed it, I ripped some muscle before "play ball" was even barked out by the ump. Great decision!
What does any of this have to do with books? Very little to be honest. It's all about aging, if anything. Aging is one of the few things that we all do regardless of what tends to divide us as people. We see or saw our parents as their body change (thank you, Bonnie Raitt) and we feel our own lives alter and even fade a bit every time a milestone is passed.
Should I take more precautions to prevent the onset of the inevitable? Maybe. Is there a magic pill that can bring back old hair or lost virility? Yes, but why? All I know is that the decisions that give me the most pleasure are simple. They have to do with seeing the smile on my wife's face when I do some incredible deed that I didn't know would bring happiness (like folding the laundry) or the laughter of my children when I read a book where they actually get the jokes. Good decisions; it's in the way that you use them, I guess."
© 2002 by Brian W. Thomas (reprinted from A Child's Book.com--www.achildsbook.com)
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