My Two-Cents: Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks


I’ve written before about the list of quotes my dad gave me years ago when I moved out of the house. Every now and then, I’ll think of one and see it from a new vantage point. This is what happened the other day with the following quote: “Character is not made in crisis, it is only exhibited.”

I’m a big believe that who we are on "some great occasion” is likely less of our character in the moment, but rather more of our character from the previous years of experiences. This is less of a factual belief and more of a subjective anecdote – a combobulation of many of my own thoughts and experiences. But there are some psychological theories that back this idea – specifically, Erik Erikson’s 7 Stages of Development. Erikson’s theory highlights key psychological and social challenges at each stage of life, each with its own "crisis" or primary conflict to resolve. Success at each stage fosters a strong sense of self and prepares us for future challenges. Here’s a breakdown of each stage –

  • In our earliest months, we rely entirely on caregivers for food, comfort, and love. If our needs are consistently met, we develop a foundational sense of trust in the world. If neglected or treated harshly, we may learn mistrust, feeling that people and the world around us are unreliable.

  • As toddlers, we start exploring and asserting independence, from choosing our toys to saying "no." If encouraged, we gain confidence and autonomy, but if overly controlled or shamed, we may develop self-doubt and rely too much on others.

  • In preschool, we become curious and try to take initiative—imagine a child playing leader in pretend games. If supported, we grow bold and self-motivated. If criticized or discouraged, we may develop a sense of guilt about asserting ourselves or taking risks.

  • Now focused on school and learning, we begin comparing ourselves to others. Success in school or social skills leads to a sense of competence, while struggles might lead to feelings of inferiority. Encouragement here fosters a sense of capability and pride.

  • Adolescence is a time of exploring "who we are" and what we value. This can be an intense period of self-discovery and trial. Successfully forming a clear identity provides direction, while role confusion—struggling to "find ourselves"—can lead to uncertainty about our future paths.

  • In early adulthood, the focus shifts to building close, meaningful relationships. Healthy friendships and partnerships foster intimacy and connection, while a struggle to bond with others might lead to feelings of isolation and loneliness.

  • As we reach middle age, many people look to "give back," whether by raising a family, mentoring, or contributing to society. Success brings a sense of purpose and accomplishment, while stagnation—feeling unproductive or disconnected from the world—can lead to dissatisfaction and emptiness.

  • Erikson’s stages remind us that who we are in any given crisis is a reflection of the many “small” battles we’ve faced over time. The “great occasions” simply put on display what’s been building all along. In Erikson’s view, life’s ongoing, stage-by-stage developments lay the groundwork, so we’re prepared to handle each new challenge—not because we become someone new, but because each stage adds to who we already are.

I learned about these 7 stages in a college developmental psychology class. They seemed pretty applicable, compared to other things I've learned in school. (I can’t remember the last time I took a derivative.) I also liked Erikson’s ideas because they aligned with the previous idea -- we are all just creations of our past experiences. What we are on some great occasion will probably be the result of previous years of challenge and triumph. It makes the mundane and day-to-day seem all the more meaningful – because it’s not just useless fluff time before our next big life moment. It’s the most important stuff. It’s the stuff that makes us, us.

The other side of Erikson’s theory is less feel-good and poignant: our personal growth ability diminishes as we grow because a lot of our personality is derived from experiences we've already had. (In the face of aforementioned non-used derivatives, I stand corrected. Turns out we take derivatives of experiences all the time in the form of personality.) I despise this idea because it means as we become more resistant in the face of challenge, we become resistant to change.

Is there a way to avoid this? I hope so. I’d prefer to be a fluid, evolving reflection of my old ideas weaved with my new experiences, in contrast to an old dog that can’t learn new tricks. I’d prefer to be the dog that learns to sit, shake, and fetch at age 42 (or 6 in dog years). This was much like my now late dog Maggie, who didn’t know basic dog etiquette for most of her life, but eventually learned to “sit” every ⅓ time. Maggie was an old dog who could sometimes learn new tricks. But how? I’d like to think it was because Maggie was an open-minded dog. Much like I hope to be. If we can find a way to keep our minds open as we experience life and all we learn from it, maybe there is hope for all of us to grow old and learn new tricks. Maybe we can find a way to exhibit our (previously) built character in crisis, while also managing to build upon it crisis by crisis. Maybe old dogs can find a way to learn new tricks. 

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My Two-Cents: The Turtle and the Whore

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My Two-Cents: Halloween — The Best Day of the Year