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Optimal Frustration (Vol. 4, No. 8) Recently I came across an article describing ways that parents can motivate their children to take on added responsibility. The concept was called “optimal frustration.” Basically, the parents provide a certain standard of care for their children and create a level of expectation. Then, a small portion of the care is withdrawn. Nothing essential to continued breathing or anything like that – just a little something that the kids will miss. Young Johnny or Susie is inspired to fill in the gap. A self-reliant, motivated child emerges. Now, I’m a great fan of any method that will improve other people’s lives. Particularly if I can be the one who inflicts that spurt of personal development – in someone else. And so it was that I set out to optimally frustrate any creature that came in close proximity. Being the great lover of mankind that I am, I began my initial experiments with my dogs. Snoopy, the former farm dog, eats on a different schedule from Tipi. Snoopy eats when she’s hungry. Tipi eats all the time. The result is that Tipi usually ends up eating all of her food and all of Snoopy’s. Thus, Snoopy doesn’t get much to eat. Equipped with my intense understanding of optimal frustration, I decided that I could teach Snoopy to eat at the same time Tipi does. I engineered a meticulous feeding procedure and began implementing it at once. I could go into a lot of detail here, but let me summarize by saying that Snoopy still eats when she’s hungry and Tipi eats all the time. And I spend 10 minutes, twice a day, watching the dogs eat or not eat, as the case may be. You may be thinking that my first experiment with optimal frustration was a failure, but I did benefit. I personally know how it feels to be optimally frustrated. And when I come up with a good story about why Snoopy suddenly disappears, the experience will be complete and my dog-feeding frustration will be satisfied. I’ve abandoned my plans to unleash optimal frustration on other people. For one thing, I figure if I can’t make it work with dogs, I’m probably not going to do that well with humans. But the more important reason is that I have uncovered a latent, optimal frustration within me. Forty years ago today, I decided to follow Jesus. In the eighth night of an eight-day gospel meeting, I stepped out into the aisle and made my way to the front of the church. I repented and confessed all of the sins that a ten year old boy had in him and was baptized for the remission of those sins. And for forty years, I have tried to do all those things that would make me God’s man. I’ve failed miserably. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get to the point where I feel whole before God. Preacher Mike shared a freeing thought. “God is more concerned with who you are then with what you do. Be His.” So, if you’re like me and don’t feel like you’re quite there – be His, lest your optimal frustration become eternal frustration.
Shine On!
copyright 2004 Joe L. Cope
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