It's Not Luck - Eliyahu M. Goldratt [4]
“What I didn’t allow one kid to do I cannot, all of a sudden, allow the other to do.” I wish I could use this excuse, but with Dave, the issue simply was never raised. Only recently has he shown any tendency to go to parties, and even now he doesn’t return much after midnight. Girls! With boys it’s much easier.
So, why am I so adamant about ten o’clock? How come I know so clearly what I want, but it’s so difficult to verbalize why I want it?
“Disciplined kids,” flashes in my mind. Kids must know there are limitations, that they cannot do everything they want to do. Rules are rules.
But wait a minute, rules must have a reason; they must make sense. Otherwise it’s not discipline that I’m teaching my kids, it’s just showing who is the boss. This approach is dangerous; it will almost guarantee that as soon as they can, they’ll flee from the house.
Julie and I are careful not to institute stupid rules. So where is this ten o’clock rule coming from? Just because at her age I was not allowed to stay out past nine? Inertia? Extrapolating from the past? Can’t be.
“Her safety.” That’s it; that’s why I insist on what I want. I feel relieved.
At the top of the page, in the middle, I write, “Ensure Sharon’s safety.” Now I have to figure out what need of hers causes her to insist on what she wants. How the hell do I know? Who can understand a thirteen-year-old girl? But actually, I do know. She has cried it more than once; she wants to be popular. Good enough. I write it down. Now the toughest question of them all. What is our common objective? Frankly, in the mood that I’m in now, I don’t think that we have anything in common. Kids. We love them. We certainly do, it’s in our genes. But this doesn’t mean that we have to like them. What a headache.
Okay, back to the issue. What is our common objective? Why do we bother to negotiate? Why do we care about finding an acceptable resolution; acceptable to both parties? Because we are a family, because we have to continue to live in one house. On the left I write: “Have a good family life.”
I check what I have written. In order to have a good family life I must ensure Sharon’s safety. Yes, definitely. On the other hand, in order to have a good family life, Sharon must be popular. I don’t see exactly why, but as I said, I’m not pretending to understand a young girl’s mind.
Next, to the conflict. In order to ensure Sharon’s safety, Sharon must be home before ten. But, in order for Sharon to be popular, she must be home around twelve. The conflict is clear. It’s also clear that no compromise is possible. I’m concerned about her safety, and frankly couldn’t care less if she is not so popular with those noisy friends of hers; while for her it’s the exact opposite.
Sighing, I knock on Sharon’s door. This won’t be fun. She looks at me with red eyes.
“Sharon, let’s discuss it.”
“What’s to discuss,” she starts to cry again. “You simply don’t understand.”
“So help me understand,” I say, sitting on her bed. “Look, we have a common objective.”
“Do we?”
“I certainly hope so. What about,” I start to read the cloud from the paper, “to have a good family life? I want it and you want it. Right?” She doesn’t answer.
“I understand that in order for you to have a good family life, you must be popular with your friends.”
“No, not at all. It’s not a matter of popular or not. Don’t you see, Daddy, I have my own friends. I cannot be an exception. Being accepted is very important.”
I don’t see how what I wrote is wrong, but remembering Jonah’s guidelines, I don’t argue. I simply cross out what I’ve written and write “Sharon is accepted by her friends.” “Is that what you mean?”
“Roughly.”
That’s probably the best I can expect at this stage. I keep on. “In order for you to be accepted by your friends, I understand that you must come home from the party around twelve o’clock.”
“I must come home when the party ends, I cannot leave before the party’s over. It’s like standing there shouting, ‘I am a little girl. You were wrong to invite