Kids believe that we boring adults have mastered all challenges and coast joyously along. Probably it’s good they enjoy that illusion during childhood. They cannot fathom how often we go to bed praying for patience, perseverance, and self-discipline.

Self-discipline serves as a critical, if less lofty-sounding, corollary to spiritual discipline. Cardinal virtues like Patience and Temperance dissolve when self-discipline is not practiced and mastered (and believe me: I approach this issue as someone whose struggles with self-discipline as much as anyone).

With five- and seven-year old grandchildren daily before my eyes, I watch in an admixture of amusement and frustration as their capacities for self-discipline develop. Behind all of my admonitions, rebukes, compliments, or suggestions lies the concern: “What kind of person will you become as a grownup?”

An adult knows what a child does not: the ability to write a term paper efficiently or run a household smartly sprouts from a first-grader’s ability to complete copy work neatly or gather together the correct clothes for Tae-Kwon-Do. Parental annoyance over demanding that a child come inside to pick up crayons or a messy scattering of shoes is one thing. A far more severe annoyance awaits if that child grows up unable to function or is inclined to blame others for problems of his or her own making.

The struggles we have as adults are not mysterious. We know what is at stake. For little kids, it’s all so confusing. Their minds are afire with a tumble of thoughts, feelings, and impulses. Where in their kaleidoscopic thinking lies space to notice the overturned box of crackers or a line of toilet paper trailing out into the hall?

We need every weapon available to prepare for life’s battles. One powerful weapon rarely touted, yet particularly relevant to children, can be forged through the study of the arts. Let me explain.

Studying an art form requires and inculcates self-discipline. True, each baby is born with an automatic enthusiasm for melody, movement, color, and expression (music, dance, art, and theater). To take those inherent qualities to higher levels, though, will require method, effort, and self-discipline. In past centuries, this fact was broadly understood among those lucky enough to receive or proffer an education.

Today, though, it is hard to pierce the muffling of our societal chaos. Everything is supposed to come instantly, and with precious little effort. The all-important sense of wonder about life has been lost as well. Think, for example, of the magical transition from instinct to self-discipline when a little boy stops banging at the keyboard and focuses on the astounding discovery that middle C, the C above it, and the C below it, all make the same pitch! Think of a similar moment when a child tilts her head, realizing that blue and yellow crayons blend to create the color green! Think of that same child later realizing that a palate of watercolors better expresses the look of the lake she paints for her unicorn figure than the slashes of a blue crayon.

No matter what art forms are placed before us, disciplined processes need to be followed if we are to perceive and express (perform) them. Fingers and bodies require the development of a micro-discipline to be able to draw the bow of a violin or to operate a key on a clarinet. Endless repetition of patterns must take place before a person can dance well. Stained glass, oil painting, architectural design, engraving—any visual art form becomes possible only after the mastery and extension of basic steps and processes.

In short, those ideas of “mastery” and “self-discipline” are inextricably entwined in the arts. They do not come to any child or adult automatically. In a world of instant clicks and endless self-gratification, few things are more noble or rewarding than studying the arts. And while we tend to think primarily of the “performing” or “creative” side of the arts, this is just one-half of the equation. Learning to perceive, analyze, understand, and appreciate an art form gives us the other half.

I like to tell parents and teachers that my goal is not to foster the development of a new generation of stage virtuosi. Rather, my goal is to help children grow into richly developed human beings who embrace the artistic masterworks they have inherited. Of course it is grand when a talented child ends up a polished practitioner of an art form. But it’s far more important for a child to understand the principles, structure, and message of an art form, and to delight in experiencing its vitality and power to inspire.

And yes, learning on both sides of that critical equation involves exercises in patience and self-discipline. Coming to appreciate the arts means slowing down in order to observe specific, multifaceted ingredients (sounds, materials, and techniques). Patience. And it requires having a skilled, discerning person to teach these things effectively and with love. Perseverance.

So, while self-discipline has broader implications than an individual’s experience while studying the arts, few human endeavors are better poised than the study of the arts to take a person on the journey towards gaining mastery over self through self-discipline.