10,000 Hours to Becoming a Great Dad

by Alan Poole

The last time I checked, parenting was not a spectator sport nor did it have a time clock or an off-season.

Even before the baby is born, parenting is a game-on, 24/7-type occupation—which might explain why it is so freaking difficult. That said, nothing puts more pressure on a guy than to be told he’s a great dad. First of all, what the heck is a great dad? Is there a test? Is there a vote? I mean, I tell people I have a great dog, but basically she’s just a poo machine. You put food and water in one end and after a whole lot of barking and sleeping, voila! You get poo coming out the other end. As far as I can tell babies are judged to be great based on about the same criteria—just replace barking with crying. So if we apply this thinking to dads—eating, barking, sleeping and pooping—I think I qualify as a great dad and further, I come from a long line of great dads. Even my wife and teens agree; they’re always telling me I’m full of... poo, which of course I take to mean I’m a great dad!

I’m not normally one to look a gift horse in the mouth, particularly because being a “great dad” pays off big-time on Father’s Day, but really, you wouldn’t praise a dad for just showing up, would you? Would it say anything meaningful about his performance if you called him great after each visit to the loo? I’m guessing we can set the bar a little higher for Dad than we do for the dog. I’d go so far as to say a truly great dad must actually do something related to parenting that requires, more than anything else, truly extraordinary effort!

It turns out the extraordinary fathers who participated in my research project had several things in common. A natural born talent for parenting was not one of them. Sorry to burst your bubble if you were wishing that wishful thinking was a parenting skill. It is not. No, once extraordinary dads decided that becoming a great dad was a worthy pursuit, every single one of them identified knowledge and skills they believed were required and then they learned, practiced, sought feedback, learned, practiced, sought feedback, etc. Extraordinary dads suck-it-up and do the hard work.

Often I see professionals sugar-coating the effort it takes to achieve extraordinary results in a misplaced desire to protect the self-esteem of people who are a long way from their stated goal. That strategy misrepresents the fact that true self-esteem comes from hard work and competence. As a trainer of both elite-level athletes looking for superior performance and regular folks looking to lose a few pounds, I’m constantly reminded that no matter what level someone starts at, the people who get the best results:

• are ruthlessly honest about where they are at, how they got there, and waste little time on excuses

• show up more consistently than those who don’t get the results they want

• work harder and with more focus than those who don’t get the results they want

• seek help to assess their strategies, make modifications and are not afraid to step back to learn or relearn the basics when necessary

• don’t waste energy hopping between short-term solutions

• build for long-term success and celebrate the small victories along the way.

University of Michigan researcher Barbara Fredrickson identified how positive emotions promote human flourishing in her Broaden and Build Theory of Positive Emotions. New possibilities open to people when they have positive learning experiences, meaning we build confidence with each small success which in turn opens up the possibility of more success. This is consistent with the research that writer Geoff Colvin reported in his book, Talent is Overrated. Colvin looked at and dismissed the assumption that talent was the critical factor in artistic performance and athletic and academic success. Focused practice and consistent work, 10,000 hours worth, was found to be the number one factor in success in all fields.

I don’t know about you, but after coming to terms with the fact that I can no longer blame my parents for not giving me the great-dad or great-height or great-looks gene, this is pretty exciting. Don’t take my word for it though, look at the bios of overachievers in any field. They work harder and smarter than the rest of us, just like the extraordinary dads I studied, while we sit around mistakenly wishing we had their talent. This misunderstanding of reality has a couple of negative consequences for parents. First, when we believe talent or any specific trait is the difference maker we respond as if helpless to affect our own situation and, second, we look longingly for evidence that our children possess praiseworthy traits that will lift them to success.

Researchers Dweck and Kamins show that when we praise kids for their looks, intelligence or talent, we actually damage their self-esteem and make them less confident and more fearful when faced with life’s challenges. They begin to see success as outside their control. On the other hand, kids who are praised for their effort and/or strategy see success as within their control. Consequently, they demonstrate higher self-esteem and greater willingness to put forth more effort. The equation looks like this: focused effort + praise for the effort = positive emotions + higher self-esteem = increased openness to learning. It is a process of broadening and building expertise. This is the essence of human flourishing whether you are a kid, or like me, a very immature adult.

The good news is that the dog has no self-esteem or dignity, so I can still call her great for letting me trail behind her with a little plastic bag. The bad news is that when it comes to being a great dad, I have quite a few hours to go to get to 10,000. I’m thinking I’ll be able to call myself a great grandfather about the time I am one. In the meantime, I’ll put my energy into practice because, while practice may not make perfect or great, it will make better and, hey, what else can I do when my kids have No-Movement contracts of undetermined lengths. Hmm, now what I need is a great dog with a no-movement contract!

Alan Poole is the father of two fabulous teens, a writer, parent educator and sports conditioning coach. With the sponsorship of LIFE Seminars, he completed a post-graduate study of extraordinary fathers.