Courageous Kids Get Their Hands Dirty

This is the third installment of a multi-part blog series by CHA Head of School Joseph Torgerson, entitled "Courageous Parenting: Raising a Generation That Loves Courageously."

I’ve gone back and forth about whether or not I should share this story. But in the interest of transparency with a purpose—and maybe even a little parental solidarity—I’m jumping in. 

Here’s the deal: I clip my nails over the toilet. That might be pretty odd (not sure…never taken a poll). I hate managing the lid on the bathroom garbage. It’s tiny, and my nails go everywhere. The toilet is best. 

So naturally, I taught my oldest child that this is the way to do it. 

When she was about ten, the whole family had travelled to another school campus for a conference, and our family of five was staying in a couple vacant dorm rooms. It was the morning, and Ellie was cutting her nails over the toilet while I was brushing my teeth. And you know what’s coming: the nail clippers slipped out of her hand and into the bowl (NOTE: empty, of course!). 

She looked up at me wide-eyed, mouth gaping. Dad! What now??

Why hadn’t I thought about this likely scenario? But good grief. Just don’t drop them in, El!

[It’s okay if you are rolling your eyes at me at this point. My wife, Kim, popped her head in and did the same!]

I took the toothbrush out of my mouth and said, “You drop it in, you get it out!” 

“Dad. How???”

“You’ve got a hand, don’t you?”

Then Ellie looked at me in shock and horror. And total disgust. “No. Dad. I will never do that.”

Are you taking advantage of the ‘hard knocks’ lessons that are available to you as a parent?

And at that, the battle had begun. Do you realize how much gross stuff we have to do in life? Do you know how many times I’ve gotten my hands dirty with you-know-what when you were in diapers? Ellie, you dropped it in; you get it out. Your skin is waterproof. You can wash your hands after. Elizabeth, put your hand in that toilet and get those nail clippers out. Now. RIGHT NOW!

Kim told me to just get them out myself. It was my weird thing to clip nails over the toilet anyway. 

No way. Not now. Ten minutes of stern dad voice. Ellie was loudly resisting. Ellie thought she was too good for this. 

My child will not think she’s too good for anything. Jesus washed his disciples’ filthy feet. He died covered in spit and dirt and blood. 

Finally I grabbed her hand, and we went in together, my fingers around hers, and we got the nail clippers together, kicking and screaming. 

After telling this story to our faculty this fall, Mr. Schroeder was standing next to me for our annual photo. “Joe, I think I’m going to get you a pair of hot dog tongs for Christmas.” Ha! 

But here is the question: what would have been more courageously loving as a parent? Just getting the nail clippers out myself with a wink and an “I love you?” Or was it more courageously loving to insist that my daughter learn the lesson that we aren’t “too good” to get the job done? That sometimes we just need to get over ourselves?

And bonus: we did it together. In the end I wasn’t lording it over my child. I was demonstrating that her lesson was also mine. That this is the way we both follow. 

Last month I asked Ellie, now 18, if she remembered that event. Boy did she ever. And we had a good laugh about it. But you know what? She could articulate what the lesson was. And Kim and I have seen the fruit in her life. 

Sticking your hand in the toilet with your daughter is probably not your thing. But are you taking advantage of the ‘hard knocks’ lessons that are available to you as a parent? Are you providing opportunities for them to “get their hands dirty?” Or do you proactively allow them an out, intentionally structuring their lives so that they’re discomfort-free?

Insisting that your kids learn these types of lessons takes time. And tears. And intentionality in the moment. And sometimes our spouse is actually discouraging us from going after them because it’s such a frustration!

But the thing about teaching courageous love is that it takes courageous parenting. It’s inconvenient. It’s hard. It often results in our kids being frustrated and upset. But the long term fruit is worth it. 

—JT

Read the next post in the series

Joe Torgerson (M.Ed., University of Missouri, B.A., Bethel University) serves as Head of School at CHA. Drawing on nine years of high school humanities teaching in addition to nearly a decade of U.S. and international administrative leadership, Joe guides the school with a global perspective rooted in a lifelong commitment to Christian ministry. He is a husband, father of three, and an avid enthusiast of athletics, board games, music, and dim sum.