Pay Anything

I remember when I first heard about parents paying their children for good grades. It was sometime during the early 90s, and from the buzz on the playground, I was coming in pretty late in the game. There I was, my parents own indentured servant. Meanwhile my classmates had been raking in the dough for years. I'd decide enough was enough. Things were going to change around here. If they wanted me to continue to get good grades and do chores around the house they were going to have to grease some palms.

A budding MBA, I created a business plan detailing my elaborate incentive system. I was careful to design the ultimate payout plan that rewarded me not based on a simplistic per grade scale -- No No -- my plan was far more complex. Grades were assigned different weights based on level of difficulty and payout was dependent on specific combinations of grades. To prove to my parents I meant business I even included a "no more than 1 C" clause. No matter how many As or Bs I received, the contract would be considered null and void should I receive more than 1 C grade. I created a spread sheet of sorts using engineering graph paper torn from an old composition book I found in my father's office. When I looked over my final proposal I knew... This was an offer my father couldn't refuse.

I sat my dad down and delivered my business proposal, rather eloquently I felt.

Me: What do you think?

Dad: I think I'm not paying you to get good grades.

Me: Why not?

Dad: Because I'm already paying for the roof over your head, your food, your clothes, soccer, piano lessons... And if you can't get good grades with everything your mother and I give you then that means you don't have enough time and we need to start taking away some of your extra activities. Is that what I need to do?

Wait a minute. Was I in trouble? How did we get to this place?!

Me: No dad, I have time!

Dad: You sure?

Me: Yes!

Somehow this exchange had played out differently in my head. I quickly nabbed my business plan and prayed my father hadn't committed the classes and their assigned weights to memory, lest he use it against me come report card time. Darnit! Now I'd never be able to convince him that Social Studies was my hardest class.

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That hadn't turned out at ALL how I expected, and worst of all, I think I unknowingly put myself on some kind of academic performance watchlist.

I don't know if my classmates were just better negotiators or their parents were just more supportive of their entrepreneurial ventures. Regardless, I'd failed. My parents were not paying me for grades any time soon. So I continued to do what was expected of me; learned for the sake of acquiring knowledge instead of fattening my hello kitty wallet, and did well.


In the end however, it was I who had the last laugh. Because when the time came to apply to colleges...


I only applied to private schools. :)

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