Our town has a parkrun, and on alternate Saturdays either my husband or I head down to the event while the other stays at home with our daughter (for the uninitiated, parkrun is a weekly event organised in more than 900 locations in this country and abroad offering a free, timed five kilometre run).
Recently, because she is sporty and a not-too-shabby a runner herself, we suggested she joins one of us and attempts it at a slow and steady pace.
“Will I get a medal?” she asked. No, but you get a time and your name goes on a list of participants. “But I got a medal when I did the children’s race before the half-marathon that mummy ran.” Yes, but that was different. “Why was it?”
Because it was a big event and everyone got a medal.
She thought about it for all of two seconds: “Nah. No bling, no run!”
Now, you might think that’s a bit petulant and lazy but for a moment let’s cut her some slack. She’s six-years-old and the 9am start means missing out on a lie-in after a long week of school and extra-curricular activities.
But there is another side to the coin. She is growing up in a school culture where pretty much everything is rewarded. Getting all the spellings right in the weekly test, for example, earns a credit and so many credits means a certificate awarded in assembly, and points for her house. Regular reading means her racing car gets to move along the track on the classroom wall, and there is a credit for reaching the chequered flag.
Pupils also get recognition at the end of the week if they manage not to get into trouble on the school’s “traffic lights” disciplinary system. Staying on green gives bragging rights in the form of a sticker, which is displayed prominently on school cardigans as the kids leave for home every Friday afternoon.
Of course, any parent would be proud that their child is well-behaved and I would never suggest otherwise. But I’m unconvinced that consistently good behaviour is worthy of a reward. It should surely be taken as read that it is expected.
Then there are rewards at home. My daughter’s pocket money, and whether or not she receives any, is dependent on her doing her homework – reading and spellings – and her instrument practice. She’s also expected to help with little jobs, such as laying the table at meal-times and tidying up her own mess.
All of which begs the question – where does it end? And are rewards an effective and appropriate way of driving home messages about the importance of working hard and being good?
I have steered away from expert opinion on this issue as, as with most things to do with education and raising children, it is divided. And it is too simplistic to say that this never happened in my day, and I turned out okay. In fact a kid who was essentially a swotty, goody two-shoes, as I was back then, might have benefited from a bit of acknowledgement from time to time, instead of being largely ignored as “just getting on with it”.
But let’s be frank. Rewards are, to all intents and purposes, a type of bribery – well-meaning and well-intentioned, maybe, but bribery nonetheless. And this can have negative effects. Are we putting undue pressure on children, I wonder?
Do some children feel deflated watching their classmates pick up rewards when they themselves are slower to get to grips with the subject? Are we manipulating children to do things they don’t want to do just because we want them to?
As parents we have been careful not to withdraw pocket money for a poor show in a spelling test, only for the amount of effort put in. Following a recent, disappointing two out of 10 in the weekly test our child didn’t even mention pocket money.
She knew it was a lack of work on her part and was clearly annoyed with herself. But she worked harder and got them all right the next time. Hopefully she learned that putting some effort in achieves results, and not that the lack of pocket money meant she couldn’t buy the latest Shopkins.
I don’t blame teachers any more than I would criticise parents for the same thing. Rewards offer a useful path of least resistance. Trying constantly to encourage and cajole a child to pick up a book or stop them disrupting a lesson is exhausting when they are unresponsive or just want to play.
Whether we are parents, teachers or both, sometimes we are all just too stressed, too tired, too busy to fight those battles. So we choose them carefully, and armed with stickers.
- Diary of a Parent is written anonymously by a mother living in the South of England who has a child in year 2 in primary school. Names have been changed where appropriate. Email your views and questions to editor@headteacher-update.com