Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [132]
I hugged her and praised her for her kindness and for taking some risks. She smiled happily. Chia liked American-style affection. She brought me pictures from Thao's party. It had been a small party, with just Thao, her brother, and her brother's best friend. They'd had birthday cake, the first Chia had ever tasted, and they'd walked over to the Sunken Gardens. In the pictures Chia looked almost playful.
Chia confessed she had been very nervous and had hardly spoken. I said, "That's all right. It was your first party. Next time you will talk more."
I said, "Don't worry if you aren't perfect in everything you try. Celebrate your victories."
She said proudly, "My father and I went to a free concert in the park."
I looked surprised and she said, "I told my father what you told me, Miss. I said we need to have fun."
I reflected how much Chia had changed in the three months I had known her. She was no longer so oppositional with me. She talked more to her classmates and she no longer seemed afraid that if she liked someone they would disappear. She asked more questions and admitted she needed help with her problems. She had developed a few ways to calm herself down—writing in her journal, talking to her Laotian friend, even going out with her dad. She had developed a few interpersonal skills. She slept better and was more energetic. She had a sense that she had some strengths. We were just beginning to sort out what she did well and what she enjoyed. I wanted to help her plan a future.
Working with Chia reminded me of something Fred Rogers once said: "There is a space between the needy and the person who is asked to help. That space is holy." I was grateful I had been allowed to listen to the problems of this quiet, decent person who was lost in our complex city. As we put away the party pictures, I said, "When I met you, you were The Lost Lady, but you have changed. You talk more in class. You enjoy your friends. You are more courageous. You are The Strong Lady."
She said, "Thank you, Miss. I am glad you have good health."
CHOICE AND IDENTITY
Psychologist Barry Schwartz has researched the problems of choice. He grew interested while shopping for a stroller for his grandchild. Instead of the two or three choices he'd had when his own children were young, he encountered several dozen models. Far from the additional choices being liberating and exhilarating, he felt confused, uncertain, and anxious. Schwartz realized that he had too many choices and he decided to explore this idea scientifically.
His stroller dilemma occurs in all areas of life. All domains—work, school, religion, entertainment, and clothes—have choices where once choice didn't exist. Parenthetically, while there are more things to choose from, our options are more alike. Travel agents offer ten tropical island vacations, but they are all at Club Meds. There are fifty pizza joints in town, but the pizza is all made from the same prefabricated ingredients.
Choice is a good thing, but only up to a point. Beyond an ideal number of options, people are paralyzed. The situation is too confusing. They don't choose carefully but rather give up and pick impulsively. Also, with many choices, people are more likely to experience regret. People are more likely to feel badly about a lackluster meal if they selected it from a menu with sixty items. They are more likely to second-guess their vacation choice if they chose from a hundred places instead of deciding between the Black Hills and the Ozarks.
Schwartz argues that freedom can be experienced as tyranny. "If you are free to do anything you want, you find there isn't anything you want to do." What seems best is freedom within constraints. Traffic laws are an example of how constraints give us more freedom. Language is another. With language