The Exorcism of Pearl

Growing up, it was my sister who liked things just-so and in order, while I was slapdash. Rosemary liked plaid because it was neat and orderly. I liked random floral prints. She liked her clothes to coordinate, and always wore colored socks to match. I wore denim because it "coordinated" with anything, and sometimes my socks didn't even match each other.

Then we got married, began cooking, and blew our tidy character sketches to pieces. I have to have a recipe to make a dish turn out well, while Rosemary can throw together the most unlikely ingredients and come up with a good meal. Evidently the same abberation holds true where child-training advice is concerned. I see it as a recipe to be followed, inflexibly, while Rosemary just takes this and that and doesn't seem to mind what she leaves behind. All this to illustrate why she enjoys the magazing No Greater Joy, and I can't get near the writings of Michael and Debi Pearl without breaking into a cold sweat.

The Pearls, for the uninitiated, are self-appointed child-training experts somewhere in Amish country in the midwest. Their approach is that of constant and rather strict (but not necessarily harsh) training, teaching your children to obey you exactly and immediately. You shouldn't have to raise your voice, you shouldn't have to repeat yourself, and you shouldn't have to explain yourself. You give the command, the child obeys, and the world goes 'round happily.

Furthermore, they insist their philosophy is taken straight from Scripture, so it's really the only Right way to do it. If you parent differently, you run the risk of not purging your children's consciences of the guilt of wrongdoing, and teaching them a wrong view of God. No pressure, though.

I realized, as I began this post, that I don't have any actual Pearl writings to refer to. I threw them away a long time ago. They were too oppressive, too demoralizing: I finally had to get rid of them entirely. So I went to their website, www.nogreaterjoy.org, to pull out a few excerpts to back up my complaints. After half an hour on the site, I wiped my clammy hands on my pants and surfed away. I did find two links for those interested in reading the Pearl's actual words; links are below.

The problem with the Pearl methodology... my problem, anyway... is that I don't parent like they do. I shout, for one thing. My kids aren't going to grow up saying with awe, "My mother never raised her voice, but guided us with gentle firmness." Heck, no. When Daphne was a week old, Addie and Stuart came tumbling through the living room and nearly fell on her bouncy seat. They didn't hear my first warning, so I shouted my second one. They cheerfully tumbled away. The baby, meanwhile, never flinched at the sound of my voice. She'd heard it before. Secondly, I'd rather err on the side of leniency. I'll deal with a child who -- for a random example -- flies down the hallway wailing, "My life is RUINED!" if that same child feels free to object when I issue a mistaken command: "But you said I could go outside after lunch." (And yes, we are already praying for grace for when Addie hits thirteen.)

It's not that their method is such a bad idea: setting aside times for training so a child knows what is expected of him. Instead of spanking, Darren has been "practicing" with Addie so that she will walk quietly down the hallway when sent to her room. It's worked well, although she still crawls as if it's taking the last ounce of her strength to get to her room. They emphasize that parents need to connect with the child's heart, not just insist on outward obedience. But according to the Pearls, I have to train like they do or my children will be self-willed, bratty, disruptive, and ultimately rebellious toward us and toward God.

The major area where I part ways with the Pearls is that I believe the Holy Spirit can work in the heart of a child who is too young to have "made a decision" for Christ. It's up to Darren and me and the Church (the Pearls don't think much of the Church) to teach them to recognize and respond to God. But as a poem posted above my computer reminds me, "I am not their hope, their joy, and their salvation." It's not my place to change their hearts, convict them of sin, and evoke repentance. The Pearls seem to put parents in the Holy Spirit's place for a child's early years, and it's far too heavy a burden for parents to bear. (Here I'm being a little unfair because I don't have any actual remarks of theirs to refer to; you'll have to read their material yourself, especially "To Train Up a Child," to get this flavor.)

As you can imagine, this sort of child-training advice works badly on the spirit of someone who reads it like a recipe. Others read it the same way, a futhermore believe the Pearls' obvious opinion that they know best. The Pearls are asked for, and dispense advice on, everything from birth control to diagnoses of autism. I look at the list of questions and ask, "Can't any of you figure this out for yourself? Must you know what the Pearls think before you decide yourself?" But they state their answers so confidently, and are so supremely disdainful of dissent, that I question myself and my parenting. Are my children really terrible and I don't realize it? Will they really turn out to be delinquents after all? Am I really a submissive wife, or is my equal status with Darren going to sow dishonor and grief in our children?

My sister doesn't seem to have these doubts when she reads Pearl, and her children are happy and obedient. However, since I don't have the force of personality to laugh off my concerns, I instead throw all the material away. I've also forsaken most parenting books entirely, and instead depend on advice from experienced mothers around me. The ghost of Pearl is fading as I see my children grow into little people I enjoy being with, as I grow to enjoy my motherhood, and as Darren and I enjoy our marriage more every year.

And even if I do shout sometimes, at least I laugh a lot now.

-- SJ

The softer side of the Pearls. If your child is not happy and relaxed, you're not training properly.

Question: Spanking a 7-month-old? This article includes some Pearlosophy that drives me mad.