Last week we had another life lesson where River learned important things like “life isn’t fair”, “misunderstandings happen”, and “you just have to deal with it and move on”.

It happened at the last ballet class of the year. It was a hard day all around. Even though we spent the day at a pool, I could see that River was upset that her beloved ballet classes were ending.

Finally it was time for the lesson and we headed over. Everything started out fine, but before long I could hear River talking loudly from the room. I stopped reading and listened for a moment but didn’t hear anything. I returned to my book. Then, a moment later I heard her voice again – and then again. I decided to investigate.

I peaked through the open door and saw River sitting in a corner, crying bitterly. She saw me but she did not move so I stepped back out of sight and asked the other parents what was happening. No one had a clue. Now what?

I decided that if River wanted to talk, she would find me and I went back to my seat. River didn’t emerge until the end of class — she walked out with tears still streaming down her cheeks, wordlessly took my hand, and walked with me to the car.

Why!? Why did her last class have to end so badly???

When we reached the car, River crawled into the front seat beside me and told me what happened. It seemed like there had been a simple misunderstanding on River’s part; she wasn’t trying to cause trouble. Then her teacher spoke harshly and River exploded in response. I’m not surprised by that at all, given how stressed she was about the class ending for the season. River was. She was a walking dancing time-bomb of emotion.

Then River told me that she didn’t get her sticker, the last sticker of the year.

Ugh. Stupid, stupid stickers.

I hate that stickers are handed out as a reward at lessons. I hate them with a passion. You know what my daughter’s reward is? Attending a real dance class at a real dance studio with a real dancer as an instructor — for our family, that can be a sacrifice at times. And I feel like I’m being royally ripped off when it becomes more about getting a sticker than the joy of learning to dance.

I want my children to learn the intrinsic value of doing things well — of mastering a new routine or learning a new skill. I want them to do their best so they can experience the immense satisfaction of knowing that they really worked at something and that the work paid off. But if we always reward a child’s effort by immediately handing them candy or a sticker, we cheapen the ultimate experience.

But everyone does it.

A couple years ago, I signed River up for the pre-ballet class at our local recreation centre. I didn’t expect much, given the age of the students, but I was still disappointed — the weekly class was led by a few teens who wasted too much time in each lesson conferring on what to do next. Given that the children did the exact same thing each and every week, I have no idea why so much discussion was needed. My biggest frustration was that the teachers used the last 5 to 7 minutes of the 30 minute class to hand out stickers. That’s 20% of the time spent waiting for each girl to carefully choose which Disney Princess sticker she would like to take home.

You know what? If the stickers weren’t there to begin with, my daughter never would have cared about them. She never would have said to me, “Mommy, I don’t want to put on my pretty dress and spin with the other girls because I really feel I need a tangible reward at the end to make me feel that my time has been well spent.” Though that would have been pretty stinkin’ cute.

With that in mind, I made a point of asking each dance studio that I called back in September if they handed out stickers at the end of the class. And you know what? They all do. Every. Single. One.

I DON’T GET IT!

Maybe that’s why River was unimpressed with knitting – I didn’t reward her with something shiny when she successfully finished a row. Maybe that’s why her room is messy – there is nothing colourful waiting for her when the bed is made. Even at school last year, River regularly received candy from her teacher – and for what?? Showing up? Honestly, it feels like everyone has collectively given up on teaching children to work hard or respect each other — I mean, why work on character development when you can just add another Cinderella sticker to the collection, right? It drives me insane.

I digress.

By the time we got home from the last ballet lesson, River had composed herself. We shared the story with my husband and then she went downstairs to watch TV with her sister. I told everyone I was going to go get gas and I’d be right back.

Then I went to Dollarama and bought her a sticker.

A stupid, stupid sticker.

The whole time I drove to the store, Alfie Kohn echoed in my half of my head, railing against the use of rewards because “rewards cause people to lose interest in whatever they were rewarded for doing.” It’s so true!

But the other half of my head fought back — it was the last class! She didn’t have the opportunity to make a new memory or redeem herself in her teacher’s eyes. She was humiliated — and that’s what she’ll take away from ballet lessons. Do you know what she remembers from circus school? Total embarrassment. She doesn’t  remember the gigantic trampoline or the trapeze bar 10 feet in the air — just the way she felt when she left.

I was afraid the same thing would happen to ballet. She LOVES that class and her fellow dancers. She adores her teacher. I just couldn’t let the joy this class brings to River be tainted with a bitter memory.

When I handed her the sticker, I didn’t mention where it came from. Being a smart kid, she immediately asked if I bought it at the store or drove back to the studio. I didn’t want to lie, so I just asked what she thought I did and wouldn’t tell her either way. So while she suspected that I bought it, she decided to embrace the hope that her teacher had forgiven her instead.

I don’t regret buying it. I regret that the dance studio felt it was necessary to use a reward system in the first place.

It’s easy to condemn parents who want sport teams to eliminate the score or get rid of the awards that honour some kids but ignore the others. I used to make fun of those parents – will their kids be able to cope with life? How will they handle real disappointment when their childhood has been bubble-wrapped for them?

But now that I have my own children, I’m starting to understand. It’s not black and white. Not everything has to be a life lesson. Maybe my child learns to deal with disappointment better in small doses, like missing a party because of illness or leaving a play date at the park early because of a storm. As a parent, maybe I’m given the opportunity to teach my children using their own unique temperament as a guide. Maybe as a parent, I get to rely on my own wisdom to ease my child into the “real world,” in the way that I see fit.

Or maybe not. Maybe I’m just a hypocritical wuss that treasured the hopeful look in my daughter’s eyes when she took the sticker from me.