Wednesday, November 02, 2011

my one parenting strategy that actually worked

[guest post by Alex Murphy]

While we're on the subject of study, here's one of the only examples I have where a parenting idea paid off. In spades. (thanks, Alex, for letting me steal an excerpt from your college application essay).


Alex, the summer after I paid him to read,
now buying books with his own cash.

When I was fourteen, my mother paid me to read.  As a kid, I always did well in school, but I never did anything mentally stimulating outside it; during my summer breaks I made somewhat of a ritual of television and junk food.  One day my mom interrupted my Lucky Charm liturgy to propose her plan to me.  She provided me a catalogue of all the works she would pay me to read and their values.  It was devious, really; here she had a kid with unchecked potential, a largely undeveloped mind, and a penchant for earning money, and she knew how to use that.  $5 for Fahrenheit 451, $10 for Moby Dick, $20 for the Old Testament; how could I refuse?  I read all summer, and—to my mother’s delight—my desire for money was quickly eclipsed by my desire for the means of making it (although I never quite forgot the pay).  Before I realized it, I was a voracious reader, as consumptive as the dragons and demagogues I was reading about.


Many people like a good story, but fewer hit the books to savor the technique of their expression, yet I found the latter to be my chief motivation.  I love words; I love language.  I have, since that seminal summer, been fixated with the way that writers choose to delineate their thoughts; with what words they use; and with the way that one can express a dozen ideas in a single sentence, if the language is used to its highest efficacy.  

The full realization of my interest came to me among the pages of my still-favorite book, The Lord of the Rings.  In Tolkien’s writing were realized all of my literary loves; he employs beautiful cadence and a lovely array of words, all used to tell great stories.  But it was not until I read the works of his friend C.S. Lewis that my pleasures were given purpose.  Lewis was a master orator, capable of conveying lucid, cogent, truths in a manner so thoroughly incisive that he could compel a cat to bark.  He used the art of language to promote truth, and that galvanized something in me.  I realized that I want to do the same.  I became—and still am—passionate about delineating and defending those beliefs I hold steadfastly, whether it is through public speech or written word.
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