How Clicker Training Has Help Me Be A Better Parent,
by Morgan Spector
(Reprinted from The Latham Letter, Spring 2000)

I am a dog trainer. I use operant conditioning to shape behavior, which primarily involves use of positive reinforcement. In learning operant conditioning I developed some rules, which I found apply pretty directly to my relationship with our son. I'm sure that age has something to do with it as well. I'm not sure I could have done what I'm doing now 10 or 20 years ago, but maybe that's just me. After all, I do come from a family of late bloomers (my mother graduated from law school when she was sixty). But my experience using operant conditioning as a dog trainer has changed my outlook on interactions generally and has positively affected the way I deal with not only dogs but also my family.

By way of background, my wife and I decided fairly early in our marriage that we were not going to have children. And we lived contentedly enough for several years. But in 1997, through a combination of circumstances that make for an interesting story to be told another time, we decided to foster a child with the specific intention of adopting him. He was nine years old and had a very problematic history, but my wife knew him and wanted him in our home, and I supported her choice. By the time anyone reads this, we will have completed the adoption.

In operant training you work with behavior: what you have and what you want to get. While it can be helpful to understand the reasons a dog does what it does, it is often not all that important. The important thing is to affect the behavior. I may encounter a dog that has been abused by a prior owner. There is nothing I can do to eliminate the fact of that past abuse. However, using operant conditioning I can show the dog that he has nothing to fear from me, and that if he behaves in certain ways he will get things he wants from me.

Our son has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). We can't change this condition. However, we can help him learn ways to manage or cope with his impulses, and we can let him know what behaviors we expect from him. We also decide what we will tolerate. For example, when he is on a "high" he talks to himself in a high, happy voice, usually semi-gibberish. You have to choose your battles, so even if it hurts my ears sometimes, I let that go. But he doesn't get to jump on the furniture.

Training is about communication: letting the animal know when it has done what you want, and from there developing the tools to tell the animal what you want, when you want it, and getting that behavior. It's the same with kids. You reward the child for things you want, and gradually you'll get those things because it will be worth it to the child to do them.

When I started to work with operant conditioning, the first decision I had to make was to eliminate my ability to force my dogs to do anything. So I stopped using a leash and choke collar and made myself learn to recognize what the dogs had to begin with, and build from there.

The number one rule in our house is: nobody hits anybody else for any reason. Of course, this was always a given between me and my wife, but with kids there is the ever-present belief that a little fanny whack now and again is salutary. I have lots of reasons for doubting this. In a nutshell, I don't think we humans understand or use physical punishments well, and we all too easily go over the top. Most importantly, I don't want force, the threat of force and the fear of force to be a part of my interaction with our son. We have established instead a relationship where our son does not see me as someone to fear, but rather as The Keeper Of The Goodies, the one who decides when he gets rewards. And he knows that he can cause me to deliver rewards by his own behavior, because I have been consistent in responding with rewards in the past.

In the animal world, parents deliver physical punishments to rambunctious cubs and babies regularly and without compunction. The bitch knows when to bite the puppy's muzzle and when to let go; the mare knows when to isolate the colt from the herd and when to let it return. Animals also have well-conditioned regulators. It is almost unheard of for a mother in the wild to go overboard with her punishments (fathers sometimes do, which is a major reason that in many species the infants and fathers are kept apart until the babies reach a certain age). No doubt, this is the product of countless generations of socialization. Animals have an innate sense of how much is appropriate to stop the behaviors they want to stop. We humans do not.

With us humans, physical punishments are typically outlets for the parent's anger at the child. We use physical punishment not so much to stop an undesired behavior as to effect reprisals, usually well after the behavior has already disappeared (the old "wait 'til your father gets home" cliché reflects this fact).

Because the behavior is already done, the only reason for punishment is to make the child think it undesirable to repeat the behavior in the future. Therefore, it becomes important that the child "feel it" when the parent effects a physical punishment, so the child will "remember it" the next time temptation arises. This of course leads to an escalating cycle. The child remembers the spanking, but decides that he can tolerate it. The next time the punishment must be harsher, and the next time harsher still.

The corollary to this is that the parent becomes increasingly angry at the child's recalcitrance, and along with an escalating level of punishment comes an escalating anger toward the child. Soon, the two are indistinguishable and the anger becomes a part of the everyday interactions between parent and child. The parent becomes focused exclusively on how best to get rid of misbehavior, and the child becomes focused exclusively on combating or avoiding the parent. This is hardly a recipe for positive family relationships.

At some point, this dynamic of escalating force combined with anger becomes abuse. If abuse were an effective tool for managing behavior, then abused children would be compliant children. As a rule, they are not. Instead, abused children tend to be defiant and to "act out" in violent or abusive ways themselves. So abuse is not only an escalating cycle itself, it causes new escalating cycles as victims of abuse become abusers themselves.

So in our house the rule is and always has been: nobody hits. Now, this doesn't mean that there are no consequences for misbehavior. There are. It is just that the consequences are of a certain type, and there are lines that we do not cross. Our son gets timeouts, loss of TV privileges, loss of video games or Gameboy, etc. We have found things that are important to him, and put them at stake if he does not do the things he is supposed to do. And once he learned that we would follow through, we have had very few occasions to use even these.

We had a recent example of setting and maintaining limits. Our son had asked for something for lunch, then would not eat. My wife told him that he was going to sit at the table until he ate it. He sat at the table for two hours, and finally ate. After that, he knew that if he was slow eating he would sit at the table until he was done. In other words, the consequence was certain.

It is far more productive to reward desired behavior than it is to punish undesired behavior. In working with my dogs, if I want to end some behavior I don't want (such as the dog jumping up on a person) I can either try to eliminate the behavior with force (example: kneeing the dog in the chest as it jumps up) or I can identify a behavior I do want (example: the dog sits in order to greet someone) and train that behavior. The dog cannot sit and jump up at the same time, so establishing a desired behavior is typically a great way to eliminate an undesired behavior. This allows me to reinforce instead of punish, to get something good instead of simply trying to eliminate something bad.

The same is true with children. Our tendency is to relate to them as though the "good stuff" should be assumed, and the "bad stuff" punished. So we don't put a lot of effort into rewarding good behavior. Big mistake. If you regularly and consistently reward the child for giving you what you want, that is what the child will tend to do. And inevitably, the things you don't want will tend to disappear.

In training, we find that most dogs like food, but some don't. Some like hot dogs but not cheese, and some the other way around. Some prefer to be petted instead. Some like to hear a soothing tone of voice. The trainer soon learns that a reward is not reinforcement unless it is actually reinforcing to the dog, and the dog tells you what is really reinforcing to it.

The same is true with our son. There are things he likes, and things he doesn't care about. For example, he is not really big on sweets, so giving him candy as a reinforcer wouldn't carry much weight. On the other hand, he really likes Playstation, so giving him extra Playstation time is very powerful. He also likes to skateboard, so a trip to the skate park is also a biggie.

When I do demonstrations of my dog training, one of the things people comment on most is how generous I am with the treats. It is very important to be generous so that the dog learns immediately that the reward is there if he produces the correct behavior. The rewards come a bit more slowly as the work gets a bit harder, but still, when the job is done the rewards are there.

We humans tend to be stingy about rewarding one another. I sometimes hear someone say, "Why should he get rewarded for that? It's what he's supposed to do anyway." True enough. But responses are essential to a child. If you don't respond in a positive way when the child does something good, then the child will seek response by doing something bad. A lot of self-destructive behavior is a matter of the child trying to find some way to get responses from a parent.

With our son I am conscious of rewarding him for good work even if I had to struggle with him to get it. The positive response not only reaffirms what I want, it tends to undercut whatever bad residue there might be from the contention. And so, he knows that if he does the right thing he'll get rewarded for it, even if I hollered at him a bit along the way. Bit by bit, the contention decreases because the rewards are worth it.

This might seem odd in context, but it is important. The clicker makes a sound ("click") that is neutral. It has no emotional content. It simply signals to the dog that reinforcement is coming. Because of the clear, unambiguous meaning of the sound, it takes on tremendous power. I have sometimes clicked our son, usually as a joke. As a rule I have other reinforcement markers for him ("good job" is a common one). This marker is also neutral in that it tells him that something good is coming, and that is all it means. I don't confound the message.

What do I mean by "confound the message"? It is very common to mix praise with negativity. For example, I hear parents say, "That was really good; why can't you do that all the time?" The "really good" part gets lost in the criticism. Over time the child learns that there is no pleasing the parent; nothing the child does is ever good enough.

Here's an example. Our son is very bright, and in the four trimesters he's been with us he's made Honor Roll every time. As his parents, that is our academic goal for him. He could make High Honor Roll if he got straight As, but that is hard for him because he struggles with reading comprehension. He wants to make High Honor Roll and we are working with him, but as long as he makes Honor Roll, he gets tons of reinforcement for his accomplishment. We don't say "well, you almost got straight As" or "too bad about the one B+." We leave that for him to say to himself.

The other side to this is that consequences are also neutral. We use "1, 2, 3 Magic" if he starts acting up. If we count to "3," it's a time out. If he loses Playstation privileges, we simply state it. Until he completes his homework for the week he can't play Gameboy. We don't have to yell, get angry, be sarcastic or try to shame the child in some way. It's just the way it is.

In dog training, there are times when the "click" is more powerful than the reinforcement that follows it. Many clicker trainers have the experience of clicking, giving a treat, and seeing the dog spit the treat out. Even so, the "click" has had its full desired effect. And on these occasions, positive social interaction (petting, ear rubs, and the like) are stronger reinforcers than the food.

The same is true with our son. Not everything good that happens triggers some major reinforcer. Sometimes, all he needs is affirmation. Responses like "good job," "I like it," "nice work," "thank you," and so on can go a long way a lot of the time. These responses tell him that we recognize that he has done something that we like and appreciate, and the response is satisfying in and of itself. Usually at these times we also hug him or give him a quick kiss on the head. These things are all reinforcing, too.

The other side to reinforcement being neutral is that love is not conditional. Love and reinforcement are not the same things. Our son may lose Playstation privileges, but he can still curl up with me on the couch while we watch TV. He knows absolutely that regardless of short-term consequences, he is always loved. Nothing he does ever puts that at issue.

This is why neutrality in both reinforcement and consequences is so important. Our son earns reinforcements, but he never has to earn our love; I think our children always have to know that they are loved, even when they have done something we don't want. If reinforcement equates with love, then consequences equate with losing love. And that should never happen. Love we give freely, always, regardless of anything else that is going on.

When training, if the dog gives me a really good performance I'll give him a surprise by delivering either an extra quantity of treats or an especially good treat. This helps to confirm that I really liked what he just did. But the surprise element is critical: if I always delivered large quantities or some special favorite, I would undercut the power of the jackpot. It would no longer be a jackpot, and I'd have to keep going farther to get that effect.

Recently my wife had to go out of town for seven days. I had been alone with our son before, but this trip involved family problems for my wife and we all felt the stress. I told our son that it was going to be a difficult week and I needed him to cooperate. And a moment or two here and there aside, he did. The day after my wife got back I went to Toys R Us and got him a new Pokemon cartridge for his Gameboy. I didn't tell him I was going to do it, nor did I say to him during the week that I'd give him any special surprise "if he was good." It just came out of the blue. He was ecstatic.

It's axiomatic among dog trainers that you shouldn't be in the game unless you are willing to be embarrassed in public. Dogs will do the goofiest things sometimes, and if you take it too seriously you won't last long. And sometimes in training, if you let the dog find its own solution to a problem you've presented you will be amazed at its ingenuity and (dare I say it) wit.

Kids are great creators. They have vivid imaginations and love to play. It can be very easy to get overwhelmed by their energy and inventiveness. I try very hard not to take it all the wrong way. Our son has a great sense of humor, and I've learned to let him make me laugh at the silly things that make him laugh. Why not?

There's an old saying that "as the twig is bent, so grows the tree." This means that the way we shape the child will form the adult. Everything we do teaches the child something, somehow. In training animals, verbiage has little or nothing to do with it. We are responding to behavior with behavior; the animal knows us by what we do, and that's all the animal really knows.

What we do with our children is not about us, it's about the children and how what we do affects them. And it's not about what we say about what should be done, but what we actually do that matters.

You can say that rules are important, but if you are inconsistent with rules, the child learns that rules don't count, regardless of how many lectures you give on the subject. If you are consistent with rules, the child learns boundaries and limits.

Similarly, if you make a mistake and apologize, the child learns respect. If you make a mistake and don't apologize, the child learns that there is no real accountability. If you do what you say, the child learns honesty. If you say one thing and do another, the child learns hypocrisy. If you make a promise and keep it, the child learns integrity. If you make a promise and fail to keep it, the child learns not to trust.

All that said, I'm not yet the parent I want to be. Eleven-year-old boys can push your buttons in a thousand ways, and I don't always respond with a gentle word and saintly patience. I get angry even when I know better. But I try. And when I mess up, I let my son know that I know it. Through all of that we are learning to communicate with each other. My greatest hope is that he will learn to hear and respect others as well as expect to be heard and respected himself. If he knows that much as he approaches adulthood, I'll be happy. Everything else will follow.