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Analytic Autobiography: Dru Millerwise
The Search for a Jewish Mother
The search for your Jewish mother is one of inner reflection. In my attempt to label my personal Jewish mother I learned quite a bit about who I am and how I operate as a student, employee, and human being. I am fortunate to have a person in my life that cares enough about me to live up to their responsibilities as a parent to guarantee that I turn out at least moderately decent. My Jewish mother is my father David Millerwise. He and I have been together for 24 years and if it weren’t for him, I would be a fraction of the man I am today.
My father altered his habits when I was born ceasing his drinking and smoking quite immediately so he could be a positive role model as well as a reliable father. These are not easy behaviors to terminate and he did so without question when he brought me home. My dad was able to use the aversive condition of “being a bum father,” to punish his inappropriate behaviors of smoking a cigarette and drinking an excess of alcohol. As I mentioned before, people can go their entire lives without conquering these problem behaviors. Often the effects of smoking and drinking get the better of them and worsen if not shorten the lives they lead. It is fair to say that the people who have difficulties surmounting these degenerate behaviors probably never had a good Jewish mother. Fortunately for my father and eventually me, he did have a great Jewish mother.
For my father, both of his parents were typical Jewish mothers. In the Millerwise house, studying and chores preceded the mere opportunity for playing outside or watching television. His mother was the performance manager on most all things. His father was the enforcer and often, the distributor of the aversive stimulus (scolding or physical contact in the form of a “spanking.”). My grandparents instilled values in my father that were necessary for becoming a future Jewish mother.
Unbeknownst to my father, he trained a future behavior analyst with the very ideology that is paramount to our science! When I was very young, I had a tantrum. My behavioral history did not involve many tantrums; however, they did exist. As I was screaming, crying, and flailing my appendages for attention, my father picked me up from my crib and proceeded to place me on the floor and smile at me. I remained on the floor until my inappropriate behavior stopped due to complete lack of reinforcing outcome. That being said, the reinforcer I was seeking followed the cessation of my aversive behavior. My father extinguished my inappropriate behavior (no attention à tantrum à no attention) and showed the infant Dru the appropriate contingencies to achieve the attention I craved (no attention à make noises at an appropriate level à attention). I have not engaged in a tantrum since this impromptu intervention. When he told me that story he explained it as, “I taught you how to speak to me! Crying won’t get you anywhere in life.” To this day I still hear that crying/whining/complaining will not get me anywhere, which I believe to be very true (I wonder why?).
As I grew up, studying and doing homework became the next behaviors in need of some performance management. I have always been told that I am an exceptionally bright person when I apply myself. I found this behavior of “applying myself” to be quite difficult as the natural contingencies were incredibly ineffective (given level of knowledge à “apply myself” àinfinitesimally higher level of knowledge). Even the rule governed analogs didn’t seem to help (no A in class at end of term à “apply myself” à A in class at end of term). It wasn’t until I received my first poor grade that I discovered, possibly the most aversive stimulus ever!
My father, the man I admire, trust, love, and respect, is disappointed in me! He does not approve of my effort and knows I am better than what I am bringing home. He’s not mad, just… disappointed (Again, possibly the most aversive stimulus ever!). Life was great until the end of the marking period when report cards came home (I have daddy’s approval à I show daddy my grades à I no longer have daddy’s approval). In fact, this was such an aversive stimulus for me that I finally wised up. I finally started using my brain and came to the conclusion that if he didn’t see the report card we could go on being happy. This worked for about a week. Now the disappointment was tag team partners with anger toward my sleazy deviant act. Needless to say this never happened again; however, my future report cards still weren’t perfect.
They were getting better but not perfect yet. With the knowledge of his disappointment being an aversive stimulus, he began to harness his power. Now my father required me to keep a planner that I had to show him as well as doing the homework on the dinner table where he could observe me. I also had to go through my homework with him to ensure a good product. On top of that, he realized that a report card every marking period wasn’t enough, so he had my teachers give me a weekly progress report that had my current grade as well as any positive or negative feedback about my behavior that week. This was delivered every Friday, which could make or break my weekend. All of these things were tools that my father successfully employed to make me better.
Once all of the aforementioned tools were implemented I began to see results immediately. With my father’s approval contingent on the successful completion of my planner and homework as well as a good progress report, academic triumph was imminent (no praise of approval à show dad completed homework/planner/progress report à praise of approval). Of course, the punishment inverse of that contingency was also true (no disappointment from dad à I show my dad uncompleted planner or poor progress report à disappointment from dad). Near the end of middle school I was finally on my way to academic success.
I can honestly state that until midway through college, I never cared about my grades; however, I still did well. This is a result of the strength of my father’s reinforcer (approval) as well as my fear of disappointing him. I succeeded in high school and college for him. I want him to be proud of me but even more so, I don’t want to disappoint him. These two statements may sound synonymous with one another; however, the way I see it is that I always have a given level of “approval” from my father. Pending my actions, I can both increase that approval and make him proud for which he gives me praise or I can botch things up and make him disappointed. The important thing is that I can never make my Jewish mother mad… just disappointed.
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