Nobody likes a bragger…

Have you noticed that modesty, as in being humble about one’s own achievements, seems to have gone out of style?

When I was a kid my parents were always proud of my achievements. They heaped praise on my brother and me whenever we did well at school, sport or in life. But they made it clear that it was very poor form indeed for us (or them) to brag about our achievements to others. We were taught to accept praise from others gracefully, with a simple ‘thank you’ but to never ‘fish’ for compliments, let alone boast about our accomplishments.

I believe this is a rule that has served me well over time. Practical Man and I have sought to instil the same value in our kids.

Recently I was embarrassed to hear Middle Kid tell a guest that he was the best speller in his class. I admonished him, telling him it wasn’t nice to brag. He looked confused. “Why?” he asked. “It’s true. I am the best speller in the class.”

“It may or may not be true,” I replied. “But that’s not the point. The point is, W doesn’t need to know you are the best speller in the class. She doesn’t need you to tell her that.”

After our guest left I had a long talk with Middle Kid, explaining to him that people didn’t need him to point out his good points to them. I told him that when he interacted with others they would be able to tell that he was intelligent and conscientious and that he was also kind and funny. “Let other people discover your talents for themselves.” I told him. “It’s rude to tell people how ‘good’ you are, but it’s also unnecessary.” I went on to explain that being the ‘best’ at something is only an achievement if it is your best and that there were kids in his grade who might have got half the words in the spelling test wrong but were still achieving a personal best.

I think he understood my point, but it is easy to see why he might be confused. It seems that being modest isn’t something that is being taught by parents these days. In the competitive 21st Century, where toddlers are enrolled in early learning programs in order to ‘get ahead’, it seems that bragging has shaken off its seedy past and is now mixing in polite society.

I have just spent an hour with the head of tutoring school. Big Kid needs some extra help with mathematics and so we are employing some outside help. This morning, the head of the school came over for me to sign some paperwork. In the space of an hour this man told me (“I don’t like to talk about myself, but…”) that he had gone to Oxford University at 14 years of age,  he had excelled in every subject he took, he had owned seven houses by the time he was 19, he was better than most teachers in secondary schools because they “teach nothing these days.”

I was gobsmacked. I barely got a word in for the whole hour. Perhaps he thought that I would be impressed by his achievements. I wasn’t. In fact his self indulgent monologue made me reconsider whether I wanted to pursue the tutoring arrangement. It was only the fact that my son won’t be taught by this man that convinced me to continue.

For some people it’s not their own achievements they’re bragging about. Parental bragging has become so common in our society that many parents don’t even realise they are doing it. I have a friend who is an intelligent, talented and interesting woman. At least she used to be – before she had children. P has the perfect pigeon pair, a boy and a girl. Her kids are smart and athletic, they’re doing very well at school. B was dux of his primary school and has received the highest academic prize in each year level since. He’s captain of the school cricket team. G is also clever, she’s won academic prizes and made it to the regional championships in cross country. She didn’t win, because she “…didn’t even train. She’s just a natural talent.”

How do I know all this? P told me, of course. We used to talk about books, movies and politics. Now when we get together we talk about kids. Her kids. Oh, she always asks after my kids, but I’m sure she’s not interested. After all, my kids are not  gifted, talented, athletic specimens like her own children, are they? Well, she’s not ever likely to know whether they are or not, because tempting as it is to play the “me too” game, I refuse to buy into that type of competitive point scoring. What she doesn’t realise is that I have formed my own opinions of her kids, based on my interactions with them. B is a lovely kid. He’s smart, witty and more importantly, he’s nice. G, on the other hand, is manipulative and sullen. She exhibits some very disturbing qualities, but her mother seems blissfully unaware of her daughter’s shortcomings.

I think it pays to remember that we can’t manage the opinions of others. People are going to make up their own minds about whether we are smart, funny, athletic, kind, nice or whatever. That being the case, it doesn’t really pay to be shouting our (or our kids’) achievements from the rooftops.

After all, nobody likes a bragger.