Why does Grandma break the rules?

The other day I started thinking about how often I bend or break “the rules.” On the short drive between school and our house, a kindergarten-age grandchild said from his car seat, “You need to slow down, Grandma.” He had caught me going 20 mph around a curve marked 15. Even when he and the other grandchildren were younger, they noticed rule violations. If I wore my “outdoor shoes” in the house with a grandchild around, I’d for sure be called out. And woe to me if they saw me sneak a second cookie. I got to wondering what I’m teaching them with these lapses. Considering the complexity of “rules”—game rules, house rules, social expectations, laws, moral principles, etc.—there is no single, easy response. But in a time when bending and breaking of established rules is a matter of national concern, a brief look at my own behavior can’t hurt.

Really, why?

To dig into “what I’m teaching,” let’s start with self-justification: Of course I have reasons for breaking the rules!: If I’m late for an appointment, it’s better to grab the sunglasses and go, outdoor shoes or no; the cookies are really good; it’s perfectly safe to go 20 around that curve. Bending the rules in such circumstances might even be wise (the appointment), or at least understandable (the excellent cookies, the safe speed).

Then there’s the everyone does it attitude. In fact, people do routinely bend, break, or selectively ignore stated rules, ethical guidelines, and laws even when the rule/guideline/law is one they would say they agree with. Most people in my city, Minneapolis, would (I think!) typically agree that speed limits are important. After all, faster speeds increase accident and fatality rates. Still it’s pretty standard here to drive at 5 mph above the stated limit—so common that drivers get irritated when the unusual individual travels at the marked speed. Other times we don’t (usually) break the rules ourselves, but shrug off others’ violations: The principle “don’t lie” is widely accepted, but while most of us don’t lie much, few of us are purists, and we routinely let politicians get away with it.

Of course, other potential rule violations are not at all like this: Instead, we follow the rules with absolute consistency, and are outraged when others don’t do the same: Most of us routinely don’t steal, for example. Still, we often disagree over what to be outraged about: toward someone’s leaving the outdoor shoes on? or toward someone else being persnickety?

Recognizing such disagreements brings us to the complication that we don’t agree with a rule we are nevertheless expected (by someone) to follow. To double this complication, there are at least two levels of rules to think about. On the simple level, there is the rule per se: Do not wear your outdoor shoes in the house. Go no faster than the marked speed limit. I can agree or disagree with very specific rules like these. In fact, people often break rules because they don’t agree with them—as far as I’m concerned, that “one cookie” rule is for the birds! On the more complex level, the rule is part of a system: The outdoor shoe rule is part of the “keep the house clean” system. The one-cookie rule is part of the “healthy diet” system. Speed limits are part of the “safe traffic” system. I can agree with the system with or without agreeing with the specific rule. I might follow a rule I disagree with because I agree with the system overall—I might go 15 around that curve out of respect the safe traffic system, even though I think the posted limit is slower than necessary. Or I might break a rule even though I agree with the system overall: I might eat that second cookie (yum!) despite agreeing with the healthy diet system. But there’s also the possibility that I disagree with the system, in which case I might bend/break/selectively ignore rules as a protest. 

All this (and the innumerable complications I haven’t covered) means that what I teach our grandchildren when I break a rule is going to depend on the specific rule, its place in a system of rules, my attitude towards and explanation of my (apparent?) inconsistency, and many other factors. Assuming I even want to, how do I get that complicated message across?

What do the grandkids see?

Occasionally, I do teach overtly: I teach specific rules, like the rules of games we’re playing, house rules about shoes off, or “stop at the corner.” I instruct grandkids on more general rules like “be kind to pets.” I can stop to explain or excuse a violation, like getting those sunglasses, or the dog needing a sharp “no.” Occasionally, I might discuss why following rules is a good idea—and maybe get into thinking about when it’s not. (The children’s book The Araboolies of Liberty Street, by Sam Swope, can get the latter discussion going.)

Mostly, though, I teach tacitly, by example—and it’s hard to know what message the grandkids will get. Even if I adhere rigorously to rules, the kids might not get the message that “the rule is important.” As good observers, they’ll notice that Grandpa is stricter about some rules and Grandma is stricter about others. They’ll see that different homes have different rules, and that the rules are different at school. And different in the classroom than on the playground. What will they make of that? 

Despite all the ambiguities, I’m not stretching when I say that what I teach our grandkids about rules has repercussions. What rules and systems of rules become second nature to them will depend a lot on what they see around them as they grow up. Grandparents may or may not be a big part of a child’s social experience, but their experience with us does matter.

None of this has gotten me anywhere fancy. Just remembering to consider which rules and systems of rules are good and important, and which should be jettisoned; which need to be followed strictly and which allow of exceptions. Pretty standard fare. What gives me pause about the topic is recognizing how very often the chance to follow or bend a rule comes up. Which gives a renewed reason to assess and reassess what rules are important in my life and our joint life as families and communities, and to assess and reassess my following of the rules when I am around our very attentive grandchildren. 

Speaking of rule-breaking, I broke my own rule in this post by not drawing explicitly on another philosopher’s work. Hope you don’t mind???