Youthful, heady inflation

From the Frontline of Fatherhood....September 8, 2006

One of my sons has recently done what most young children do at some point in their careers as children: he began his formal education. This one has indeed begun and when he finishes, regardless of rank, honor, and prestige, I’ll show him this story to remind him that he has always been one of the smartest in his class since ever I could remember, or if I can’t remember at that point in my life, I’ll read this story and be amazed at how such a young child could be so resourceful in getting whatever he sets his mind upon.

We moved to a new neighborhood shortly before this son, Michael, began kindergarten. It is a splendid middle class neighborhood, where there is genuine friendliness and a village like ambience that comforts its inhabitants. Being a friendly energetic boy, my son was quickly welcomed into a rambunctious group of buddies who seemingly challenged the resourcefulness and patience of the well loved, endearing, and gentle kindergarten teacher. But, she was up to the task.

After two months of unbridled chaos, behavior logs came home with clear instructions how parents might respond to a three tier grading system for little Johnny’s behavior on any given day. One star would be issued for excellent, a smiley face for good and a frowny face for ‘maybe next time.’ The flyer was thorough, extensive, and, well laborious. I am guessing that teach stayed up pretty late the night prior trying to channel her frustration constructively into a plan of action. One of the recommended rewards for a ‘star’ mark, the highest, is to make play-dough with a parent and then play with play-dough with a parent. Being a parent who doesn’t play with, let alone make play-dough, I quickly halted further reading of said detailed informational behavior modifying notice and told my boy, that if he got a star for being a good listener in class, then I’d reward him with a piece of candy. The boy likes food.

Well, shape up he did. But, he was born for greater things. After a week, each drive to school was spotted with questions like, “If I get a star, dad, can I go to the toy store and get a toy?” “Sure,” I said, assuring myself that bribery masquerading as parenting could be a transferable skill in certain parts of the world. Well, as his behavior improved and he fell in line, we, his now even less-creative-in-rewarding-our-child-when-he-behaves-parents, did the obvious, we raised prices. Now it was a full week’s worth of stars for a toy and for the exceedingly desirous and more expensive rewards, we set the price at ten stars or two full weeks of behavioral perfection! The drive to school was now quieter.

Then one day, upon picking up the little kindergartner, the young boy bubbled with accomplishment. He clearly stated that he had received 5 stars that day. Intrigued and suspicious, I sought clarifying details. How could this be? "You know dad, I came up with a really great idea and Mrs. Walgreen, my teacher, agreed. I said that maybe if I was really good the whole time with zero reminders, then we could all get five stars for that day,” said son who must have studied monetary policy at MIT. I smirked, perhaps it was a sneer.

It was mostly a sneer that belied a bit of resentment at being gleefully outwitted, not confronted, by an incredibly resourceful boy who also happened to be my son. I did not know whether to embrace him with exuberant pride for his insight, resourcefulness, and persuasive oratory or to start into him about how I might just take this price war to a whole new level. I can just see it now, little Mrs. Walgreen’s class all nodding their heads approvingly and with dignity at Michael’s deliberate and well delivered proposal. Mrs. Walgreen, impressed by their earnestness, and flattered by their docility toward her new star system of behavior modification, gladly obliged, and with her innocent nod of consent, she effected an inflationary moment in at least two dozen households in my new, peace loving, friendly, middleclass neighborhood. I just hope that when my son’s classmates talk to their parents about their significant accomplishment of multiple stars on only one day, they take credit for the bright idea.

I’ve seen pictures of wheelbarrows of money being traded for a few potatoes in economic textbooks illustrating chaos and desperation; when Kmart starts jacking up its toy prices, I’d rather the finger not be put on my household.