Unequal Childhoods - Annette Lareau [37]
The entire interaction takes less than a minute, but it is a tense minute, or at least it seems so for Spencer.
SIBLING COMPETITION AND CONFLICT
Spencer’s relative inferiority as an athlete colors his relationship with Garrett. Sometimes he goes out of his way to identify areas in which his older brother is not accomplished. For example, one afternoon as Garrett and a field-worker are shooting baskets in the driveway, Spencer offers this observation:
“Garrett isn’t really that good at basketball. He isn’t.” Garrett quickly refutes Spencer saying, “Oh yeah? I’m better than you.” Spencer seems to ignore him. He is undaunted by Garrett’s comment. Spencer continues, “I mean, this isn’t what he does well in. He’s not the best player.” Garrett seems a bit more irritated by Spencer’s comments and says with calm defensiveness, “Oh yeah? That’s why I had [x] rebounds in the game. More than anyone in gym class.” Spencer matter-of-factly states, “I am saying this isn’t the game you are the best in.”
Spencer also periodically flaunts his status as part of the school’s gifted program. Garrett, despite two attempts, missed the program’s cutoff of an IQ of 125 (he scored 119). When Spencer qualified, Garrett reacted with great, tearful distress. For his part, Garrett sometimes seizes opportunities to highlight his superior skills. During a piano lesson, for instance, he deliberately launches into the piece Spencer is to perform at an upcoming piano recital, knowing that he plays the piece better than his brother, and knowing that Spencer can hear him as he plays:
GARRETT: I can play . . .
PIANO TEACHER: Don’t. (Garrett keeps playing.) Don’t play that. It bothers him that he can’t play it as fast. (Garrett continues playing and is grinning.) You are ruining the piece for him. (Garrett still plays.) I don’t want you to play it anymore. (Garrett stops.)
Despite this kind of competition, though, the tenor of Spencer and Garrett’s relationship is often friendly. Garrett can be helpful:
Garrett has pulled out a workbook and is looking down at the math problems on it. . . . Spencer says, “Garrett, I don’t understand how to do this.” Garrett quietly says, “Here, let me see.” It is an addition problem. Garrett says, “What’s seventy-five plus ninety-nine?” Spencer rolls his eyes and says, “I don’t know. I can’t add it in my head!” He sounds mildly annoyed by Garrett’s question, as if he is incredulous that Garrett even asked it. Garrett puts the paper down near the corner of the table so that Spencer can see it, and he slowly says, “Okay, what’s nine and five?” Spencer says, “Nine and five . . . um, fourteen. I got that.” Garrett writes down the numbers and says, “And you carry the one here,” and points to the carried number. He continues, “Now what is one and seven and nine?” Spencer pauses for a moment and says, “Seventeen.” Garrett writes down the number. Don strides through the kitchen as Garrett hands the paper back to Spencer. Don asks suspiciously, “What’s going on here?” Garrett replies quietly, “I showed him how to do something.”
Spencer cannot seem to forge a workable relationship with Sam, however. The two squabble frequently and sometimes viciously.
Spencer suddenly shrieks from the living room, “Stop it! Stop it! Get away from me!” Sam begins to wail. I hear a door slam heavily upstairs and then Louise tramps loudly down the stairs. She walks into the living room and demands, “What is going on here?” Spencer explains, “He keeps following me around!” Louise says, with rising irritation, “I don’t care if he follows you.” She says accusingly, “You followed Garrett around when you were his age! There’s no excuse for you to act the way you are acting. There’s no excuse.”
Spats like this are common and are usually resolved by a third party. One parent