Dr. David Pelcovitz
Your Uniqueness
One of the most important global themes in the world of chinuch is the power of expectations to shape our children’s uniqueness. Although the nature of this impact is often invisible, it plays a key role in building a foundational and deep relationship with our children.
Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky zt”l once commented that parents are more than simply mechanchim, educators; they are mashpiim, influencers. The word mashpia stems from the root shipua, referring to an incline or slope. The function of a parent is quite the same. The subliminal messages transmitted to one’s children on a daily basis form expectations which they seek to live up to. Our expressed thoughts and actions are like an inclined slope, which mold the way our children act and react.
Along these lines, Dr. Daniel Kahneman in his bestseller work Thinking, Fast and Slow speaks of a concept called “priming.” In one research study, the audience was divided into different groups and given five random words to memorize. They were then asked to walk to the front of the room where they would be tested on how well they remembered the specific words. The words given to each group were kept entirely arbitrary except for one group which was given particular interrelated words focusing on getting older: Florida, wrinkled, shuffleboard, retirement and gray.
The results of numerous experiments, as corroborated by Dr. Kahneman, showed that the behavior of specifically the group given these five words was notably impacted. The time it took them to reach the other end of the room was twice as long as the other groups, in consonance with the connotation of the words they had in mind. Unconsciously, they were influenced by what they had thought about and internalized.
In examining this study, Dr. Kahneman pointed to the notion of thoughts affecting behavior. Translating this theme into the realm of parenting and education, it is clear that the impression we have upon our children – from the values conveyed to the ideals articulated – involuntarily shapes their thoughts, feelings and actions.
But let us go further.
In the early 1900s, word got out that on a farm in Germany there was a genius horse in arithmetic and mathematics. Colloquially named “Clever Hans,” the horse could be asked any arithmetic question and responsively tap out the answer. People were hailing from all around just to catch a glimpse of Clever Hans.
When psychologist Oskar Pfungst heard about Clever Hans, he was quite taken aback. “If Clever Hans is really such a genius as people make him out to be, we need to rethink our understanding of human intelligence,” he said. Making his way to the farm, he asked if he could test Clever Hans to determine what exactly made him tick.
And what did he discover? What was the secret of Clever Hans? Human signals. After carefully studying the horse’s behavior, Dr. Pfungst realized what it was. Clever Hans was not a genius at math, but a genius at reading reflexive cues. The instinctive body language of the trainer would give away what the answer was. In fact, when Dr. Pfungst used blinders to block the purview of Clever Hans, he became incapable of answering the questions correctly. But as long as Clever Hans could see, when an involuntary look of expectancy would break out in the eyes of the trainer, he took the signal that it was time to stop tapping. Unbeknownst to the trainer, with the onset of his pupils dilating, breathing varying and posture changing, Clever Hans knew he had tapped enough and finally reached the correct answer. It was this that Clever Hans was a genius at.
In parenting, teaching and community leadership, the same is true. When looking to bring out the uniqueness of another, especially our children, we must first and foremost realize our role in identifying their unique spark. In the words of Rav Nachman of Breslov, each child has their own special “niggun,” tune. Every Jewish soul has a unique song which produces a beautiful melody blended by personality, strengths and potential. It is the role of a Jewish teacher, leader and parent to identify the notes which bring about this melody and encourage their expression.
But how exactly can we accomplish this? What is the formula to engendering this motivation and drive within ourselves, our children and our community to reach their goals and achieve their aspirations?
Perhaps even before we teach our children the Aleph Beis, there is something else we teach them. And that is Modeh Ani. Together with our children each morning, we inculcate the recognition that we have been granted the precious gift of life for another day. Yet what exactly do we say?
“I give thanks before You…for You have returned my soul within me with compassion – great is Your faithfulness!” It is within these last words that one of the most encouraging and uplifting messages is conveyed. Each and every morning, explains Rav Tzadok of Lublin, Hashem returns our neshama to us. Yet He does not merely revive our soul within our body. He tells us something as well. “I have faith in you,” Hashem says. “You are so precious and so valuable. I believe in you.” The last words of Modeh Ani – “Great is Your faithfulness” – refers to Hashem’s faith in us that we can achieve, we can reach our potential and we can develop into that great person we truly can become. Hashem has faith in each and every one of us.
This is something we must realize and internalize. As Rav Tzadok beautifully articulates, “Just as we must believe in Hashem, we must believe in ourselves.”
Now, let me tell you a story.
Years ago, I gave a lecture focusing upon various psychological insights into dealing with challenges and stress. Interwoven within the talk, I briefly spoke about the unwavering dedication of the Piacesner Rebbe during the war to the study of Torah and his students. After I finished speaking, a man came over to me with tears in his eyes. “Doctor,” he said, “allow me to explain why I became so emotional as you spoke. It wasn’t so much what you said about the Piacesner Rebbe, but rather what he personally means to me.” And with that, the man went on to explain.
“The only reason I am here is because of the Rebbe. During those horrible war years, my father was thirteen years old studying in the yeshiva of the Piacesner Rebbe in Warsaw. My father was lonely, homesick and unsettled. One night, he fell asleep next to a window, allowing a cold draft to make its way in.
“At three o’clock in the morning, my father opened his eyes only to see the Piacesner Rebbe gently approach his cot and move him away from the chill to the middle of the room. The Rebbe then tucked my father in again and tiptoed away.
“Such was the care of the Piacesner Rebbe for my father. He viewed him as his own child and extended himself with the greatest love and warmth. But that is not the end of the story.
“Two years later, on the fateful day the Piacesner Rebbe and his students were taken to meet their end, my father, now a fifteen-year-old boy, stood in the selection line. And he knew what that meant. He was puny and malnourished and would almost certainly be sent to his demise. And that would be the end.
“But just as they were about to direct him to the gas chambers, an SS guard ran out and began loudly announcing, ‘Carpenters, carpenters, I need carpenters! Could anyone volunteer?’ My father thought to himself, ‘I am a klutzy young boy who can barely hammer a nail into a piece of wood. They will discover that I am unskilled and take my life. Forget it.’ So he decided he would not say anything.
“But then, almost involuntarily, an image flashed through his mind of two years earlier. He remembered the Rebbe so gently and lovingly moving him away from the cold and tucking him in. And then he thought to himself, ‘I am somebody! I am worth something! I am not just here one day and gone the next. The Rebbe cared enough about me to tuck me in…” And so, my father raised his hand.
“The SS guard selected my father to be a carpenter and his fellow Jews protected him. They taught him the trade and he survived.”
And with that, the man concluded telling me about his father. “Many times during those horrible years, my father was on the verge of despair. But, just as he was about to give up, the image of the loving tuck of the Piacesner Rebbe came forward to save him.”
We must believe in ourselves, our children, our students and our fellow Jews. We may not always fully appreciate it, but we convey our belief in what our children can do through the invisible lessons of how we look at them, listen to them and relate to them. As parents, educators and mentors, we hold the capability of lifting them up by providing loving guidance, encouragement and support and steering them towards an accomplished life, full of meaning and self-esteem. And just sometimes, we can breathe new life into them through one little action we may have thought so little about: tucking them in. That small, loving gesture may go far beyond our greatest expectations. We can never know, but just sometimes, it may in fact save their lives.
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