Have you ever watched a child avoid doing chores, homework, or some unpleasant task and then wear a badge of honor for his lackadaisical behavior? 

I have. My mother-in-law professes that all children are lazy. I don’t know if that is true, but it might be. 

A child circles the room, looking busy, while the other children are engaged in a “game” of 5-minute clean-up. He is rather pleased with himself. He managed to escape the task while his counterparts did all the work. Isn’t he a clever little fellow? 

Sometimes, the child will even tell on himself. “I didn’t do any of the work and got away with it,” he laughs while holding on to his invisible badge of dishonor. I don’t know anyone who is impressed with this declaration. 

As the child grows, he finds new, creative ways to avoid unpleasant tasks. His friends and family know his little game. They hope he will learn but can only learn if he is taught. In the younger years, his contemporaries feel jealous that he gets away with his antics. “Why do we have to do all the work, and he doesn’t do anything?” They may feel frustrated as they age and often will find new team members or friends. You cannot do much if they are your sibling, but even those relationships will suffer. The benefit of the relationship becomes one-sided. What exactly is he getting away with? Deep and abiding respect from others or meaningful relationships built upon accumulative growth from doing hard things. The opportunities to reach a young and teachable mind are dwindling. 

I once taught computer science. I explained my grading system which was determined by each child’s mastering computer skills. Their grades were a true reflection of the child’s effort. It was all up to each individual putting in the work. At the end of one semester, one child was outside my door crying. I approached, concerned. The child blubbered about receiving a B in the class; I explained that the grade was self-determined. And more crying ensued. If I had buckled and given a grade that wasn’t earned, how would that benefit this child? Several other teachers approached me after school and said the child had used this same tactic to get all A’s in their classes. They buckled. They commended me for not feeding the beast. Of course, the parents were never told about the manipulation. If they had, I am sure they would have done some parenting. Without this information, they were and still are a little bitter. I wonder what story the child tells as an adult. I don’t know, but I can imagine.

Those who work together learn to trust each other. They discover the satisfaction of accomplishment. In college, several classes require working as a team. Each team meets to discuss the project, the tasks, and the presentation. Each team member chooses what part of the project they agree to be responsible for. Of course, the team meets often to ensure everyone is on task. More is being taught here than the subject.

In my experience, at least one person inevitably blew off their part of the project, affecting our grade. The working team members would be forced to pick up the slack. The beast was fed; however, we learned who not to choose for the next project. The lackadaisical student lost respect as he or she smugly wore their badge of dishonor for a grade they did not deserve. Looking back, I feel bad for these students, after all, we were there to learn. Sadly, I have experienced this in many work environments as well. You eventually learn who you can depend on and trust and who you can’t. 

Working together forms bonds of trust and friendship. I remember my sisters and I doing the dishes at night. There was, for sure, fighting and disagreements, but there were also moments of dancing, towel snapping, and laughter. As my children grew up, we often danced or chased each other with the dishtowel, playing whip. 

In this environment, we felt safe sharing happy or disturbing events of the day or week. It was a moment of shared vulnerability between all of us. It felt good, honest, and even fun. The work didn’t feel like work. It became a cherished memory, at least for me. 

What was taught? I learned how to resolve conflicts between team members. I also learned that it becomes more challenging to hold team members accountable the older we become. We learned to deserve being there for each other, working together, and accomplishing the task, or we faked it and lost much more in the long run.

Being an adult is hard. Most of us still want to have fun, laugh, and feel like a part of a community. Part of growing up is showing up and doing your part, sharing the load, and learning how to be a team player. Being an adult isn’t boasting to anyone about how you refuse to participate or share the tasks. It isn’t about bragging rights to get out of work or only doing what you want when you want.  It isn’t justifying your laziness because of a childhood void of responsibility or parenting. Adulting often isn’t fun. It is hard work, but here we are.

And if, as a child,  you learned and were humored to avoid work or team participation, guess what? As an adult, you can choose to be self-taught. You don’t have to choose to live as a child anymore. You don’t have to act like a child to share your badge of dishonor with prideful arrogance. You can choose to grow up and own your part. That would require humility, effort, and work. Yikes.

If we buckle and accept this kind of disrespect and inconsiderate behavior, how does that benefit the childish or our community? It doesn’t, and it never will. It will break the community’s trust and growth and eventually break the individual’s heart.