A few chores never hurt.
"When you heat your house with wood, you get twice the heat! First, you heat yourself when you work to cut and split the wood. Then you get the heat in your house when you burn it."
My dad would proclaim this statement each time we headed to the woods to cut down a tree.
Growing up in rural Wisconsin and in the shadow of the oil crises of the 1970s, my parents took every opportunity possible to save money. We heated our house primarily with a wood stove. I'm not talking about a cute, decorative fireplace or ornamental stove. No, we had a full-fledged wood furnace in our basement. We used very little fuel for our oil-burning furnace, but I never remember us being cold.
Heating your house with wood, however, is a year-long, multi-stepped endeavor.
First, you need to have access to wood. We cut wood on shares with our neighbor who had many acres of hardwood. We also collected and cut pallets and pretty much anything else that would burn.
Next, you need to have the proper equipment. Dad had a Homelite chainsaw and a 1966 Ford pick-up truck we named Old Blue. We had several wheelbarrows rescued from scrapyards. We even had a sled that we used to haul wood on in the snow.
Finally, you need people to cut, split, haul, and stack the wood. That's where Dad, Mom, my sister, and I came in.
As a kid I dreaded the time and energy it took to keep our house warm. While I never fully remember "rebelling" against helping, I do remember wondering why we couldn't just turn on the furnace like other people did. Neither Mom nor Dad were big into explaining these things to my sister or me. Rather, they'd dig in and model for us what it took to be a team. They'd make it a game for us. How much wood could we place in the wheel barrow without it tipping over? How many rows of wood could we stack by the back fence? How many pallets could we cut and stack in one afternoon? How much wood could we put in our basement?
As I grew older these chores became my job. We'd all work together cutting the wood, but I had to haul it into our basement. The games, at least in my head, continued? How much could I carry in the wheel barrow? How fast could I fill the basement? Most of all, how would Dad's face look after a long day of physical labor at his job when he saw I had filled the basement so he didn't need to worry about it?
I was learning responsibility by being responsible.
After more than 20 years of teaching, I've learned that our most successful students at school have some responsibilities at home. In fact, I recommend all students have some chores. (To be clear, I don't always measure success strictly by academic achievement. Our mission of "growing great leaders" encompasses much more than just academics.) Even our youngest students can help put away laundry or silverware. Elementary students can help shovel snow or even vacuum. Kids can set tables. Older kids can help mow the lawn. To keep a family working, everyone must work together. Clearly, the list is endless.
The key seems to be to teach our kids the value of chores by first doing the chore with them. CAUTION: If, as adults, we complain about having to do chores, our kids will complain. Rather, make it a game. Share how great you feel when the towels are folded neatly. Share how much more energy you have for fun activities when your family works together. Over time you can release some of your responsibility of the chore because your child will be better able to manage it.
While I was growing up I didn't really enjoy cutting, hauling, splitting, or stacking wood. The funny thing is that now--more than 30 years later--I'd give almost anything to spend a day hauling and cutting wood with Dad. He made the chore a relationship-building opportunity, and that matters more than anything. You--we--want long-term relationships with our kids based on working together and being responsible.
My dad would proclaim this statement each time we headed to the woods to cut down a tree.
Growing up in rural Wisconsin and in the shadow of the oil crises of the 1970s, my parents took every opportunity possible to save money. We heated our house primarily with a wood stove. I'm not talking about a cute, decorative fireplace or ornamental stove. No, we had a full-fledged wood furnace in our basement. We used very little fuel for our oil-burning furnace, but I never remember us being cold.
Heating your house with wood, however, is a year-long, multi-stepped endeavor.
First, you need to have access to wood. We cut wood on shares with our neighbor who had many acres of hardwood. We also collected and cut pallets and pretty much anything else that would burn.
Next, you need to have the proper equipment. Dad had a Homelite chainsaw and a 1966 Ford pick-up truck we named Old Blue. We had several wheelbarrows rescued from scrapyards. We even had a sled that we used to haul wood on in the snow.
Finally, you need people to cut, split, haul, and stack the wood. That's where Dad, Mom, my sister, and I came in.
As a kid I dreaded the time and energy it took to keep our house warm. While I never fully remember "rebelling" against helping, I do remember wondering why we couldn't just turn on the furnace like other people did. Neither Mom nor Dad were big into explaining these things to my sister or me. Rather, they'd dig in and model for us what it took to be a team. They'd make it a game for us. How much wood could we place in the wheel barrow without it tipping over? How many rows of wood could we stack by the back fence? How many pallets could we cut and stack in one afternoon? How much wood could we put in our basement?
As I grew older these chores became my job. We'd all work together cutting the wood, but I had to haul it into our basement. The games, at least in my head, continued? How much could I carry in the wheel barrow? How fast could I fill the basement? Most of all, how would Dad's face look after a long day of physical labor at his job when he saw I had filled the basement so he didn't need to worry about it?
I was learning responsibility by being responsible.
After more than 20 years of teaching, I've learned that our most successful students at school have some responsibilities at home. In fact, I recommend all students have some chores. (To be clear, I don't always measure success strictly by academic achievement. Our mission of "growing great leaders" encompasses much more than just academics.) Even our youngest students can help put away laundry or silverware. Elementary students can help shovel snow or even vacuum. Kids can set tables. Older kids can help mow the lawn. To keep a family working, everyone must work together. Clearly, the list is endless.
The key seems to be to teach our kids the value of chores by first doing the chore with them. CAUTION: If, as adults, we complain about having to do chores, our kids will complain. Rather, make it a game. Share how great you feel when the towels are folded neatly. Share how much more energy you have for fun activities when your family works together. Over time you can release some of your responsibility of the chore because your child will be better able to manage it.
While I was growing up I didn't really enjoy cutting, hauling, splitting, or stacking wood. The funny thing is that now--more than 30 years later--I'd give almost anything to spend a day hauling and cutting wood with Dad. He made the chore a relationship-building opportunity, and that matters more than anything. You--we--want long-term relationships with our kids based on working together and being responsible.
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