Why I’m glad the dance instructor made my daughter cry

I tried something new at dance class tonight. I left. Usually, I’m chasing my 18 m/o around the studio while my 3 y/o attempts to follow the instructor’s directions. It’s chaos. So, I decided to take the toddler outside to run around while my big girl did her thing inside. I thought all was going well (no shouting, screaming, etc.) until the end of the class. That’s when I heard crying. Loud, soulful crying. It was my kid. Sigh. I hurried in to her, expecting to find her with a stubbed toe, rug-burned knee, or some other dance-class casualty. No. She was sitting in closing circle, crying her eyes out while the other girls looked on with uncertain expressions.

“What’s wrong?,” I coaxed. Had she suddenly remembered I’d gone outside and gotten frightened. Did another girl make fun of her somersault? The instructor filled me in on the reason for her emotional outburst. “I told the girls that if they danced the whole time, they could have a piece of candy. But they didn’t, so I told them they could have some next time.” I wasn’t surprised that my daughter would get so upset over something like this. She responds very well to positive rewards, and responds very poorly when that reward isn’t earned. “I want my last chance!!! Please!!!! I’ll listen this time!!!” It was pretty pathetic. The instructor apologized profusely, but seemed steadfast in her decision.

I finally convinced her to leave the building, and then finally start moving toward the car. (I simply turned my back on her and started walking.) Let’s just say she made a scene. It probably took me a good 15 minutes to get her buckled in. But I wasn’t budging. If that was the rule the instructor had made, then we were sticking to it. This was a teachable moment, so they say. Was it hard to watch? Yes. Did my heart break a little for her? Yes. But just like the candy, giving in would have been a bit of a sweet taste, that is unhealthy in the long run.

By the time we got home, she was calm. And she’d had time to reflect on her actions. “I’ll be good next time mommy. I’ll listen.” I didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, but her father had to be informed. We have a rule that we don’t keep secrets from mommy and daddy. So, over dinner, she told him what happened. “Miss Tiffani said we could get a piece of candy if we danced, but we didn’t.” My husband, in a steady voice asked, “And how did that make you feel?” She squished up her face in deep thought and replied, “Grumpy. And then I was naughty. But I’ll listen next time.” We decided an apology was in order, and I suggested we call her instructor right then. No sense in waiting. She didn’t answer, but my daughter left a sincere “I’m sorry” on her voice mail.

This could have gone so many ways. The instructor could have caved, and given her candy anyways. I could have caved, and given her some prized privilege once she got home. But neither of us did, and it was the best thing that could have happened. The circle was completed. An offense was made, a lesson learned, and an apology given. And that’s the sweetest thing a parent could ask for.