The concept of the marshmallow experiment, as a hook, is very effective. Thought-provoking and interesting, the article mirrors the experiment in a way that makes me want to skip to the end and see the conclusion, much like Caroyln Wiesz’s desire to eat the marshmallow.
But whatever happened to this rule?
He said that if she rang a bell on the desk while he was away he would come running back, and she could eat one marshmallow but would forfeit the second. Then he left the room.
It’s curious that there is no mention of test subjects using this button. It seems like they feel ashamed about their impulsive desire to eat the marshmallow, and would rather eat it in privacy. If this is true, it would also be also curious that they don’t think ahead to when the researcher enters the room again and finds the marshmallow gone. Marshmallows don’t disappear into thin air...
The scientists are hoping to identify the particular brain regions that allow some people to delay gratification and control their temper. They’re also conducting a variety of genetic tests, as they search for the hereditary characteristics that influence the ability to wait for a second marshmallow.
How hereditary is the impulse to eat the marshmallow? The fact that it affects them in later life is implied, but how important is “nature” when it comes to delayed gratification? I’m more inclined to believe that it’s a product of upbringing and family culture. In my experience, teens in the information age have all adapted to new technology, becoming addicted to cellphones, television, and social media. Are we following an evolutionary path toward becoming symbiotic with technology? Or are our children merely benefiting from a more tech-infused adolescence?
“The kids who couldn’t delay would often have the rules backwards. They would think that the best way to resist the marshmallow is to stare right at it, to keep a close eye on the goal. But that’s a terrible idea. If you do that, you’re going to ring the bell before I leave the room.”
For a child, perhaps. As children, I feel that we’re more closely in touch with our senses—i.e., noises quickly grow annoying, physical touch (like poking) soon becomes bothersome—so the sight of the marshmallow could cause it to take a hold on the child’s mind. Now, in adulthood, I find that ignoring what’s tempting to me will only make me want it more.
“We should give marshmallows to every kindergartner,” he says. “We should say, ‘You see this marshmallow? You don’t have to eat it. You can wait. Here’s how.’”
I’m not alone when I say I wish I could have been told such a thing in kindergarten...
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