Parenting Without Rewards: What Flute Lessons Taught Me

Recently, I browsed a book in a bookstore whose title stayed with me: Punished by Rewards, by Alfie Kohn.

I had not read it from cover to cover. But the question it raised followed me back to my son's flute lessons.

In the previous chapter of this story, I wrote about how feeling progress seemed to help him accept feedback. I described the small sense of pride that comes when a goal feels closer as a kind of “glory feeling.”

Now I am wondering how much of that feeling belongs to him. Does he recognise something changing in his playing? Or is he waiting for a teacher, or his father, to tell him that he has done well?

The latest lessons have given me more to think about.

A new lesson plan, and a more willing learner

We have continued with the new teacher and added another lesson. The teacher has set a target and identified several areas for improvement.

My son seems willing to try the new suggestions. I can see him learning things, and he seems to be enjoying playing with this teacher.

The teacher also suggested learning techniques through new pieces, rather than trying to repair every missing element within the familiar repertoire. That remains a suggestion. With limited time available, we are still concentrating on the original pieces.

What encourages me is that my son is willing to revisit those pieces and work on the habits that need changing. Familiar music does not necessarily mean familiar learning: he can return to the same passage with a different way of approaching it.

I am tempted to call these his “bad habits,” but I want to be careful with that phrase. A playing habit can need adjustment without becoming a judgment about him or the value of everything he has learned.

It is also early. A different teacher, a clearer set of priorities and additional lesson time may all be contributing. I cannot separate their effects. His willingness does not yet tell us how securely a technique has changed, but it is an encouraging part of the learning.

I want to understand that change before adding another demand to it.

What the book made me question about rewards

Kohn's argument challenges the use of rewards to control behaviour. In his account, when adults repeatedly make a desirable outcome conditional on completing a task, children may become more concerned with obtaining that outcome than with the activity itself. Praise can serve a similar purpose when approval becomes something to earn. Official book introduction

For a parent, that raises an uncomfortable question. When I say I want my child to be motivated, am I sometimes hoping that he will simply do what I ask with less resistance?

Consider a hypothetical practice bargain: finish a piece correctly and receive extra gaming time. It might get the instrument out of its case. But it gives the child another reason to focus on finishing quickly, and perhaps on persuading the adult that the performance is good enough.

That does not tell me whether the child is becoming interested in the music, understanding the technique, or learning how to practise independently.

I do not want to turn one book into a rule that every reward is harmful. Research distinguishes different kinds of incentives and feedback. A meta-analysis of 128 studies found that several forms of expected, tangible reward reduced measures of intrinsic motivation, while positive feedback showed different effects overall, with differences between children and adults. These findings do not predict what will happen in one family's practice room. Deci, Koestner and Ryan, 1999

Even Kohn distinguishes useful, informational feedback from praise experienced as control. Interview with Alfie Kohn

The distinction gives me something more useful to examine than whether I have used the word “good.”

There are several ways a lesson can feel rewarding

A prize offered by an adult, a compliment from a teacher and the pleasure of producing a sound are different experiences.

A child might practise to obtain a privilege. He might want someone he respects to notice his effort. He might enjoy the music itself, or value becoming capable of playing something he has chosen.

These motives can overlap. Wanting a parent to listen does not cancel a child's interest in music. Feeling proud of improvement is meaningful, but it is not identical to enjoying every part of practice for its own sake.

I do not need my son to have perfectly pure motivation. I want the activity to acquire enough meaning for him that every attempt does not depend on an adult offering something in return.

There is also a risk in my phrase “glory feeling.” If I expect him to feel successful after every session, I have created another standard to meet. Some practice will be ordinary. Some attempts will remain difficult. He should be able to have an unrewarding afternoon without feeling that he has failed at motivation too.

Helping him hear the progress for himself

My earlier reflection placed considerable weight on adults making progress visible. I still think that matters. This next stage asks how he can take a greater part in recognising it.

For example, after a teacher demonstrates a change, I could leave space before offering my judgment. If he wants to discuss it, I might ask which version felt easier or what he noticed in the sound.

If he cannot tell, that is useful information. The teacher can demonstrate the difference again or choose a simpler comparison. He should not have to invent an improvement to satisfy my question.

When I do offer feedback, I want it to be something I can honestly observe. “You stopped and tried the teacher's suggestion” is more grounded than announcing that everything sounded wonderful. Technical judgments belong with someone qualified to make them.

A review of research on children's praise found that its effects vary. Sincere feedback can support motivation when it strengthens competence and autonomy, points to controllable actions, and avoids excessive social comparison. The findings do not support treating all praise as either beneficial or damaging. Henderlong and Lepper, 2002

I can enjoy his pleasure with him. I can smile, listen and be interested. I do not need to convert every moment into an evaluation, including a carefully worded evaluation of his effort.

Finding something new to learn in a familiar piece

For now, we can explore this within the music he is already playing. We do not need to add a new piece to every new learning goal.

With time limited, I would like the teacher to help us choose which adjustment matters most at this stage, where to practise it within the piece, and what my son can listen or feel for as he tries it. A list of areas for improvement can guide the coming lessons without becoming a demand to fix everything in one session.

His willingness to make these changes matters to me. Revisiting something familiar can be frustrating, especially when an old way of playing comes back. I want him to have room to work through that without feeling he must prove his willingness by getting it right immediately.

Over time, the teacher can check whether an adjustment holds in a later lesson and carries into another passage. New pieces remain an option when there is room for them. For now, I want to understand whether he is gaining a skill he can use independently within the work already in front of him.

The aim need not be constant testing at home. It can be part of the teacher's ordinary work: listen, demonstrate, let the pupil try, and adjust the next step.

A review of feedback in music teaching emphasises clear guidance about what to do next, dialogue with the learner, and the gradual development of self-regulation. It offers a useful framework for thinking about lessons, rather than proof that one particular method will suit every child. McPherson, Blackwell and Hattie, 2022

The additional lesson also needs a purpose. I want it to support learning without allowing expectations to expand automatically. We have already been reconsidering how guidance and daily demands need to change as children grow.

I still have questions about the earlier teaching

Seeing my son respond differently makes me wonder why this learning did not seem to happen before.

It would be easy to make the previous teacher responsible for every difficulty. I do not have enough evidence to do that. Some skills may have been introduced without becoming secure. The teachers may sequence learning differently. Earlier lessons may have built foundations that I cannot easily hear.

At the same time, I can ask for more than reassurance. A teacher should be able to explain the current priority, demonstrate a helpful approach and review whether the student is learning from it.

Those are the conversations I want to have. Comparing personalities or assuming that a higher fee explains better teaching would tell me much less.

My son should not have to defend either teacher. The adults can discuss the plan while he concentrates on learning music.

Parenting without making everything a transaction

If I rely less on rewards, I still have responsibilities as a parent. Practice needs a realistic place in the day. Equipment needs care. Commitments need discussion. Rest and recreation need room too.

I would like us to agree on a manageable routine, with some choice over what to begin with and a clear understanding of when the session ends. A finished session can include an unresolved difficulty that needs the teacher's help.

Likewise, limits on gaming can be discussed as part of family life, without turning each correctly played passage into currency for more screen time. An occasional shared celebration need not become a bargain offered before every attempt.

I also want to ask what my son enjoys hearing and playing. His musical interests deserve a place alongside the techniques adults have chosen for him to learn.

Most of all, warmth cannot depend on the quality of that day's practice. If I stop offering prizes but become disappointed and distant whenever he struggles, the pressure to earn my approval remains.

Leaving some of the judgment with him

I am pleased that my son seems to enjoy these lessons. I want to protect the opportunity to find out what is helping him.

For now, that means listening to the teacher's plan, watching for skills that become more independent, and resisting the urge to make every encouraging change justify another target.

Browsing Punished by Rewards has left me with a question about my own place in the room. How often does my reaction arrive before my son has had time to notice what he thinks?

Next time he returns to a familiar passage and tries the teacher's suggestion, I want to give him that time. He may hear an improvement, notice a difficulty, or simply want to play the passage again.

I can be there for all three.