When I was born, there was really only one book about how to raise your children, and it was written by Dr. Spock. (Laughter) Thank you for indulging me. I have always wanted to do that.
Ko sem se rodila jaz, je bila pravzaprav samo ena knjiga o vzgoji otrok in napisal jo je Dr. Spock. (Smeh) Hvala za tole. Vedno sem si želela to narediti.
No, it was Benjamin Spock, and his book was called "The Common Sense Book of Baby And Child Care." It sold almost 50 million copies by the time he died. Today, I, as the mother of a six-year-old, walk into Barnes and Noble, and see this. And it is amazing the variety that one finds on those shelves. There are guides to raising an eco-friendly kid, a gluten-free kid, a disease-proof kid, which, if you ask me, is a little bit creepy. There are guides to raising a bilingual kid even if you only speak one language at home. There are guides to raising a financially savvy kid and a science-minded kid and a kid who is a whiz at yoga. Short of teaching your toddler how to defuse a nuclear bomb, there is pretty much a guide to everything.
Ne, bil je Benjamin Spock, in imela je naslov 'Nega in vzgoja otroka'. Do njegove smrti se je prodala v skoraj 50 milijonih izvodov. Danes, stopim kot mama šestletnika v knjigarno Barnes and Noble in vidim tole. In osupljiva je raznolikost gradiva na tistih policah. Tam so vodniki za vzgojo eko-otroka, brezglutenskega otroka, otroka odpornega na bolezni, kar je, če me vprašate, malce strašljivo. Tam so vodniki za vzgojo dvojezičnega otroka, čeprav doma govorite le en jezik. So vodniki za vzgojo finančno ozaveščenega otroka in znanstveno usmerjenega otroka in otroka, ki obvlada jogo. Razen vodnika za učenje kako deaktivirati atomsko bombo je praktično na voljo vodnik za vse.
All of these books are well-intentioned. I am sure that many of them are great. But taken together, I am sorry, I do not see help when I look at that shelf. I see anxiety. I see a giant candy-colored monument to our collective panic, and it makes me want to know, why is it that raising our children is associated with so much anguish and so much confusion? Why is it that we are at sixes and sevens about the one thing human beings have been doing successfully for millennia, long before parenting message boards and peer-reviewed studies came along? Why is it that so many mothers and fathers experience parenthood as a kind of crisis?
In vse te knjige imajo dober namen. Prepričana sem, da je veliko odličnih. Ampak, res mi je žal, gledano skupaj, v njih ne vidim pomoči, ko gledam na tisto polico. Vidim tesnobo. Ogromen spomenik v barvah bombonov posvečen naši kolektivni paniki, in ob tem se sprašujem, zakaj je vzgajanje naših otrok povezano s toliko tesnobe in toliko zmede? Zakaj smo deljeni glede edine reči, ki smo jo že tisočletja počeli uspešno, davno pred prihodom starševskih spletnih forumov in verodostojnih študij? Zakaj toliko mam in očetov doživlja starševstvo kot neko krizo?
Crisis might seem like a strong word, but there is data suggesting it probably isn't. There was, in fact, a paper of just this very name, "Parenthood as Crisis," published in 1957, and in the 50-plus years since, there has been plenty of scholarship documenting a pretty clear pattern of parental anguish. Parents experience more stress than non-parents. Their marital satisfaction is lower. There have been a number of studies looking at how parents feel when they are spending time with their kids, and the answer often is, not so great. Last year, I spoke with a researcher named Matthew Killingsworth who is doing a very, very imaginative project that tracks people's happiness, and here is what he told me he found: "Interacting with your friends is better than interacting with your spouse, which is better than interacting with other relatives, which is better than interacting with acquaintances, which is better than interacting with parents, which is better than interacting with children. Who are on par with strangers." (Laughter)
Kriza se mogoče zdi močna beseda, a so podatki, ki kažejo, da najverjetneje ni. Pravzaprav je bila študija s prav takim imenom 'Parenthood as Crisis' objavljena leta 1957, in v petdesetih letih po tem je bilo napisanega veliko učenjaškega, ki dokumentira precej jasen vzorec starševske stiske. Starši doživljajo večji stres kot odrasli, ki niso. Njihovo zadovoljstvo v zakonu je manjše. Opravljene so bile mnoge študije o počutju staršev, pri preživljanju časa s svojimi otroki in pogost odgovor je, da ne tako super. Lani sem govorila z raziskovalcem, Matthewom Killingsworthom, ki dela na zelo, zelo domiselnem projektu, ki meri zadovoljstvo ljudi in povedal mi je, kaj je ugotovil: "Stiki s prijatelji, so nekaj boljšega kot stiki z zakoncem, ki so boljši od stikov s sorodniki, ki so boljši od tistih z znanci, ki so boljši od stika s starši, ki so boljši od stikov z otroki. Ti so na enaki ravni kot tujci." (Smeh)
But here's the thing. I have been looking at what underlies these data for three years, and children are not the problem. Something about parenting right now at this moment is the problem. Specifically, I don't think we know what parenting is supposed to be. Parent, as a verb, only entered common usage in 1970. Our roles as mothers and fathers have changed. The roles of our children have changed. We are all now furiously improvising our way through a situation for which there is no script, and if you're an amazing jazz musician, then improv is great, but for the rest of us, it can kind of feel like a crisis.
A poslušajte. Raziskovala sem, kaj je temelj vseh teh podatkov tri leta, in otroci niso težava. Nekaj pri starševstvu, prav ta trenutek je pravi problem. Natančneje, mislim, da ne vemo, kaj bi starševstvo moralo biti. Starš, je kot glagol vstopil v splošno rabo šele 1970. Naše vloge kot mame in očetje so se spremenile. Vloge naših otrok so se spremenile. In sedaj vsi besno improviziramo in iščemo pot skozi situacijo za katero ni scenarija. Če ste odličen jazz glasbenik, potem je improvizacija odlična stvar, a za vse nas ostale, se lahko čuti nekako kot kriza.
So how did we get here? How is it that we are all now navigating a child-rearing universe without any norms to guide us? Well, for starters, there has been a major historical change. Until fairly recently, kids worked, on our farms primarily, but also in factories, mills, mines. Kids were considered economic assets. Sometime during the Progressive Era, we put an end to this arrangement. We recognized kids had rights, we banned child labor, we focused on education instead, and school became a child's new work. And thank God it did. But that only made a parent's role more confusing in a way. The old arrangement might not have been particularly ethical, but it was reciprocal. We provided food, clothing, shelter, and moral instruction to our kids, and they in return provided income.
Kako smo se spravili v to? Kako je mogoče, da zdaj krmarimo skozi vesolje vzgoje otrok brez standardov, ki bi nas vodili? No, za začetek je prišlo do velike zgodovinske spremembe. Še do nedavnega so otroci delali, v glavnem na naših kmetijah, a tudi v tovarnah, mlinih in rudnikih. Otroci so bili ekonomska pridobitev. Enkrat v dobi napredka, smo temu dogovoru naredili konec. Otrokom smo priznali pravice, prepovedali smo otroško delo, in se namesto tega osredotočili na njihovo izobraževanje, in šola je postala otrokova nova služba. In hvala bogu, da je. Ampak to je samo naredilo vlogo staršev na nek način bolj zmedeno. Stari dogovor mogoče ni bil pretirano etičen, a je bil vzajemen. Mi smo zagotovili hrano, obleko, zavetje in moralno vzgojo otrokom, ti pa so v zameno prinesli dohodek.
Once kids stopped working, the economics of parenting changed. Kids became, in the words of one brilliant if totally ruthless sociologist, "economically worthless but emotionally priceless." Rather than them working for us, we began to work for them, because within only a matter of decades it became clear: if we wanted our kids to succeed, school was not enough. Today, extracurricular activities are a kid's new work, but that's work for us too, because we are the ones driving them to soccer practice. Massive piles of homework are a kid's new work, but that's also work for us, because we have to check it. About three years ago, a Texas woman told something to me that totally broke my heart. She said, almost casually, "Homework is the new dinner." The middle class now pours all of its time and energy and resources into its kids, even though the middle class has less and less of those things to give. Mothers now spend more time with their children than they did in 1965, when most women were not even in the workforce.
Ko pa so otroci nehali delati, se je ekonomija starševstva spremenila. Otroci so postali, po besedah brilijantnega, čeprav povsem brezobzirnega sociologa "ekonomsko ničvredni, a čustveno neprecenljivi." Namesto, da bi oni delali za nas, smo začeli delati zanje, saj je v pičlih nekaj desetletjih postalo jasno: če smo hoteli, da našim otrokom uspe, šola ni bila dovolj. Danes so otrokova nova služba izvenšolske dejavnosti, a te so tudi delo za nas, saj smo mi tisti, ki jih vozimo na trening nogometa. Ogromni kupi domače naloge so otrokova nova služba, a te so tudi delo za nas, saj jo moramo preverjati. Pred dobrimi tremi leti mi je ženska iz Teksasa povedala nekaj kar mi je povsem strlo srce. Skoraj brezbrižno mi je rekla: "Domača naloga je nova večerja." Srednji razred danes vliva ves svoj čas in energijo in dohodke v svoje otroke, čeprav ima srednji razred vedno manj možnosti, da te stvari zagotovi. Mame preživljajo več časa s svojimi otroki kot so leta 1965, ko večina žensk ni bila niti zaposlenih.
It would probably be easier for parents to do their new roles if they knew what they were preparing their kids for. This is yet another thing that makes modern parenting so very confounding. We have no clue what portion our wisdom, if any, is of use to our kids. The world is changing so rapidly, it's impossible to say. This was true even when I was young. When I was a kid, high school specifically, I was told that I would be at sea in the new global economy if I did not know Japanese. And with all due respect to the Japanese, it didn't turn out that way. Now there is a certain kind of middle-class parent that is obsessed with teaching their kids Mandarin, and maybe they're onto something, but we cannot know for sure. So, absent being able to anticipate the future, what we all do, as good parents, is try and prepare our kids for every possible kind of future, hoping that just one of our efforts will pay off. We teach our kids chess, thinking maybe they will need analytical skills. We sign them up for team sports, thinking maybe they will need collaborative skills, you know, for when they go to Harvard Business School. We try and teach them to be financially savvy and science-minded and eco-friendly and gluten-free, though now is probably a good time to tell you that I was not eco-friendly and gluten-free as a child. I ate jars of pureed macaroni and beef. And you know what? I'm doing okay. I pay my taxes. I hold down a steady job. I was even invited to speak at TED. But the presumption now is that what was good enough for me, or for my folks for that matter, isn't good enough anymore. So we all make a mad dash to that bookshelf, because we feel like if we aren't trying everything, it's as if we're doing nothing and we're defaulting on our obligations to our kids.
Verjetno bi bilo staršem lažje opravljati svoje nove vloge, če bi vedeli na kaj svoje otroke sploh pripravljajo. In to je še ena od reči, ki sodobno starševstvo dela tako zelo zavajajoče. Pojma nimamo kateri del naše modrosti, če sploh kateri, bo uporaben za naše otroke. Svet se spreminja tako hitro, da je nemogoče napovedati. To je bilo res že v moji mladosti. Ko sem bila še otrok, še posebno v srednji šoli, mi je bilo rečeno, da bom pečena v novi svetovni ekonomiji, če ne bom znala japonsko. In z vsem spoštovanjem do Japoncev, se stvari niso tako obrnile. Danes so tu določeni starši srednjega razreda, ki obsedeno učijo svoje otroke mandarinščino in mogoče je nekaj na tem, a z gotovostjo tega ne moremo reči. Torej, ker ne moremo napovedati prihodnosti kar vsi delamo kot dobri starši je to, da poskušamo pripraviti naše otroke na vse mogoče različice prihodnosti v upanju, da se bo vsaj nekaj od tega izplačalo. Učimo jih igrati šah, ker bodo mogoče potrebovali analitične sposobnosti. Vpisujemo jih v športne klube, ker bodo mogoče potrebovali timske sposobnosti, saj veste, ko bodo šli na Harvard Business School. Poskušamo jih naučiti odgovornega ravnanja z denarjem in biti znanstveno usmerjeni in ekološki in brezglutenski, čeprav je mogoče zdaj dobro, da vam povem, da sama nisem bila ekološki in brezglutenski otrok. Pojedla sem kupe pireja iz testenin in govedine. In veste kaj? Čisto v redu sem. Plačujem davke. Imam redno službo. Povabili so me celo, da govorim na TED. A danes se domneva, da kar je bilo zame dobro, ali za moje starše, danes ni več dobro. In vsi se divje zapodimo k tisti knjižni polici, ker imamo občutek, da če ne poskušamo vsega je enako, kot če ne bi naredili ničesar in ne opravljamo svoje dolžnosti do naših otrok.
So it's hard enough to navigate our new roles as mothers and fathers. Now add to this problem something else: we are also navigating new roles as husbands and wives because most women today are in the workforce. This is another reason, I think, that parenthood feels like a crisis. We have no rules, no scripts, no norms for what to do when a child comes along now that both mom and dad are breadwinners. The writer Michael Lewis once put this very, very well. He said that the surest way for a couple to start fighting is for them to go out to dinner with another couple whose division of labor is ever so slightly different from theirs, because the conversation in the car on the way home goes something like this: "So, did you catch that Dave is the one who walks them to school every morning?" (Laughter) Without scripts telling us who does what in this brave new world, couples fight, and both mothers and fathers each have their legitimate gripes. Mothers are much more likely to be multi-tasking when they are at home, and fathers, when they are at home, are much more likely to be mono-tasking. Find a guy at home, and odds are he is doing just one thing at a time. In fact, UCLA recently did a study looking at the most common configuration of family members in middle-class homes. Guess what it was? Dad in a room by himself. According to the American Time Use Survey, mothers still do twice as much childcare as fathers, which is better than it was in Erma Bombeck's day, but I still think that something she wrote is highly relevant: "I have not been alone in the bathroom since October." (Laughter)
Tako je že dovolj težko usmerjati naše nove vloge kot mame in očetje. In k temu zdaj dodajmo nekaj drugega: hkrati usmerjamo tudi nove vloge kot možje in žene, saj je danes večina žensk zaposlenih. Mislim, da je to še en razlog, da se starševstvo čuti kot kriza. Nimamo pravil, scenarijev, standardov za to kaj narediti, ko pride otrok zdaj, ko tako oče kot mama služita kruh. Pisatelj Michael Lewis je to nekoč zelo, zelo dobro opisal. Dejal je, da je zagotovljen način za to, da se par začne prepirati, da gre na večerjo z drugim parom, kjer je delitev opravil minimalno drugačna od njunega, ker gre pogovor v avtu na poti domov nekako takole: "Si slišal, da je Dave tisti, ki jih vsak dan peš pospremi v šolo?" (Smeh) Brez scenarijev, ki bi nam povedali kdo kaj počne, se v tem krasnem novem svetu pari prepirajo in tako mame kot očetje imajo vsak zase trdne argumente. Mame veliko bolj običajno doma opravljajo več del hkrati in očetje, ko so doma, veliko običajneje delajo le eno opravilo. Poiščite moškega doma in zelo verjetno je, da počne le eno stvar naenkrat. Pravzaprav je univerza UCLA nedavno naredila študijo, ki je beležila najbolj običajno razporeditev družinskih članov v prostorih domov srednjega razreda. Uganete kakšna je? Oče, sam v sobi. Po anketi American Time Use Survey mame še vedno vzgajajo otroke dvakrat več kot moški, kar je bolje kot v dneh Erme Bombeck, a mislim, da je njeno pisanje še vedno zelo aktualno: "V kopalnici nisem bila sama že od oktobra." (Smeh)
But here is the thing: Men are doing plenty. They spend more time with their kids than their fathers ever spent with them. They work more paid hours, on average, than their wives, and they genuinely want to be good, involved dads. Today, it is fathers, not mothers, who report the most work-life conflict.
A poglejte: moški delajo veliko. Preživljajo več časa z otroki kot so ga njihovi očetje z njimi. V povprečju delajo več ur kot njihove žene, in si res želijo biti dobri sodelujoči očetje. Danes so očetje tisti, ne mame, ki največkrat poročajo o konfliktu služba-zasebnost.
Either way, by the way, if you think it's hard for traditional families to sort out these new roles, just imagine what it's like now for non-traditional families: families with two dads, families with two moms, single-parent households. They are truly improvising as they go.
Kakorkoli, mimogrede, če mislite, da je tradicionalni družini hudo, pri razbiranju svojih novih vlog, pomislite, kako je danes netradicionalnim družinam: družine z dvemi očeti, ali dvemi mamami, samohranilska gospodinjstva. Ti resnično improvizirajo na vsakem koraku.
Now, in a more progressive country, and forgive me here for capitulating to cliché and invoking, yes, Sweden, parents could rely on the state for support. There are countries that acknowledge the anxieties and the changing roles of mothers and fathers. Unfortunately, the United States is not one of them, so in case you were wondering what the U.S. has in common with Papua New Guinea and Liberia, it's this: We too have no paid maternity leave policy. We are one of eight known countries that does not.
Danes, v bolj razviti deželi, in oprostite mi zdaj za poseganje po klišeju in sklicevanje na, ja, Švedsko, se starši lahko zanesejo na državo za podporo. So države, ki priznavajo strahove in spreminjajoče se vloge mater in očetov. Na žalost Amerika ni ena od njih, zato če ste se spraševali, kaj imajo ZDA skupnega s Papuo Novo Gvinejo in Liberijo je tole: Tudi mi nimamo plačanega porodniškega dopusta. Smo ena izmed osmih znanih držav, ki tega nimajo.
In this age of intense confusion, there is just one goal upon which all parents can agree, and that is whether they are tiger moms or hippie moms, helicopters or drones, our kids' happiness is paramount. That is what it means to raise kids in an age when they are economically worthless but emotionally priceless. We are all the custodians of their self-esteem. The one mantra no parent ever questions is, "All I want is for my children to be happy." And don't get me wrong: I think happiness is a wonderful goal for a child. But it is a very elusive one. Happiness and self-confidence, teaching children that is not like teaching them how to plow a field. It's not like teaching them how to ride a bike. There's no curriculum for it. Happiness and self-confidence can be the byproducts of other things, but they cannot really be goals unto themselves. A child's happiness is a very unfair burden to place on a parent. And happiness is an even more unfair burden to place on a kid.
V tej dobi hude zmede je samo en cilj glede katerega se strinjajo vsi starši, in to je ne glede na to ali so stroge mame ali hipi mame, helikopterji ali brezpilotna letala, sreča naših otrok naj je najpomembnejša. To pomeni vzgajati otroke v dobi, ko so ekonomsko ničvredni, a čustveno neprecenljivi. Mi smo varuhi njihove samopodobe. Edina mantra, v katero ne podvomi noben starš je: "Vse kar hočem je, da so moji otroci srečni." Ne razumite me narobe: Mislim, da je sreča čudovit cilj za otroka. A je hkrati tudi zelo izmuzljiv. Sreča in samozavest, učiti otroke te reči ni enako kot učiti jih kako preorati polje. Tudi ni enako kot jih naučiti voziti kolo. Ni učnega načrta za to. Sreča in samozavest sta lahko posledica drugih reči, a ne moreta biti cilja sama po sebi. Otrokova sreča je zelo nepošteno breme za starše. In sreča je še bolj nepošteno breme, za otroka.
And I have to tell you, I think it leads to some very strange excesses. We are now so anxious to protect our kids from the world's ugliness that we now shield them from "Sesame Street." I wish I could say I was kidding about this, but if you go out and you buy the first few episodes of "Sesame Street" on DVD, as I did out of nostalgia, you will find a warning at the beginning saying that the content is not suitable for children. (Laughter) Can I just repeat that? The content of the original "Sesame Street" is not suitable for children. When asked about this by The New York Times, a producer for the show gave a variety of explanations. One was that Cookie Monster smoked a pipe in one skit and then swallowed it. Bad modeling. I don't know. But the thing that stuck with me is she said that she didn't know whether Oscar the Grouch could be invented today because he was too depressive. I cannot tell you how much this distresses me. (Laughter) You are looking at a woman who has a periodic table of the Muppets hanging from her cubicle wall. The offending muppet, right there.
In moram vam povedati, mislim, da to vodi v zelo čudne skrajnosti. Zdaj smo že tako hudo pripravljeni zavarovati naše otroke pred grdobijami sveta, da jih ščitimo pred "Sezamovo ulico." Želim si, da bi lahko rekla, da se šalim, a če greste ven in kupite prvih nekaj epizod "Sezamove ulice" na DVD, tako kot sem jaz naredila iz nostalgije, boste na začetku našli opozorilo, ki pravi, da vsebina ni primerna za otroke. (Smeh) Ali lahko to ponovim? Vsebina izvirne "Sezamove ulice" ni primerna za otroke. Ko je časopis New York Times o tem povprašal producentko oddaje, je ta ponudila nekaj razlag. Ena je bila, da Cookie Monster, kadi pipo v enem skeču in jo potem pogoltne. Slab vzor. Ne vem. A stvar, ki mi je ostala v spominu je to, da je rekla, da ni vedela, če bi si danes lahko izmislili lik Oscar the Grouch, ker je bil preveč depresiven. Ne morete si misliti, kako me to razburi. (Smeh) Gledate žensko, ki ima periodni sistem Muppetkov na steni svojega razdelka. Muppetek, ki žali druge, prav tamle.
That's my son the day he was born. I was high as a kite on morphine. I had had an unexpected C-section. But even in my opiate haze, I managed to have one very clear thought the first time I held him. I whispered it into his ear. I said, "I will try so hard not to hurt you." It was the Hippocratic Oath, and I didn't even know I was saying it. But it occurs to me now that the Hippocratic Oath is a much more realistic aim than happiness. In fact, as any parent will tell you, it's awfully hard. All of us have said or done hurtful things that we wish to God we could take back. I think in another era we did not expect quite so much from ourselves, and it is important that we all remember that the next time we are staring with our hearts racing at those bookshelves. I'm not really sure how to create new norms for this world, but I do think that in our desperate quest to create happy kids, we may be assuming the wrong moral burden. It strikes me as a better goal, and, dare I say, a more virtuous one, to focus on making productive kids and moral kids, and to simply hope that happiness will come to them by virtue of the good that they do and their accomplishments and the love that they feel from us. That, anyway, is one response to having no script. Absent having new scripts, we just follow the oldest ones in the book -- decency, a work ethic, love — and let happiness and self-esteem take care of themselves. I think if we all did that, the kids would still be all right, and so would their parents, possibly in both cases even better.
To je moj sin, na dan ko se je rodil. Bila sem čisto zadeta od morfija. Imela sem nepričakovan carski rez. A tudi v megli od zdravil sem uspela imeti eno zelo jasno misel prvič, ko sem ga imela v rokah. Zašepetala sem mu jo v uho. Rekla sem "Tako zelo se bom trudila, da te ne prizadenem." Bila je Hipokratova prisega, čeprav nisem niti vedela, da jo izgovarjam. A če pomislim, je Hipokratova prisega veliko bolj realističen cilj kot sreča. Pravzaprav, kot vam bo povedal vsak starš, je zelo težek cilj. Vsi od nas smo že naredili ali rekli boleče stvari, ki si jih na vso moč želimo vzeti nazaj. Mislim, da v drugačnem času nismo pričakovali tako veliko od sebe. Pomembno je, da se tega vsi spomnimo naslednjič, ko bomo strmeli s podivjanim srcem v tiste knjižne police. Nisem zares prepričana kako ustvariti nove standarde za ta svet, ampak res mislim, da si v naši obupni želji, da bi ustvarili srečne otroke, zadevamo napačno moralno breme. Veliko boljši cilj se mi zdi, in upam si reči, bolj plemenit, da se osredotočimo na vzgojo bolj produktivnih otrok in moralnih otrok, in da samo upamo, da bo sreča prišla k njim preko dobrih stvari, ki jh bodo počeli in njihovih dosežkov in ljubezni, ki jim jo dajemo mi. To, kakorkoli, je en odgovor na pomanjkanje scenarija. V pomanjkanju novih scenarijev samo sledimo najstarejšim - spodobnost, delovna etika, ljubezen - in pustimo, da se sreča in samozavest uredita sami. Mislim, da če bi vsi delali tako, bi bilo z otroki še vedno vse v redu, in enako z njihovimi starši, verjetno z obojimi celo veliko bolje.
Thank you.
Hvala.
(Applause)
(Aplavz)