unconditional love

Is parenting a sacrifice or a reward?

When we become parents, we essentially say to another human being, I will give to you regardless of whether you give back. I will feed you. I will shelter you. I will teach you. I will do these things without thanks and without any assurance of some return. I will do them out of duty and honor and need. I will also do them out of love.

Isn’t this a fabulous opportunity for us? We have a chance to be God. The usual perception of God as the Father or Mother places us on the receiving end of the equation, not the giving end. Have you considered that, in relation to your child, you are becoming the divine Giver? The usual tendency is to dismiss the idea of our own greatness, or to emphasize all the ways in which we fall short of greatness. Why not take a moment to reflect on how many ways you give to your child, in the same way that the flowers give bloom, and the trees give oxygen? This is unconditional love. It is so natural that it can even seem commonplace.

It’s surprising to notice how much happiness people derive, without knowing it, from the needs of other people. So many times I have emerged from low spirits simply by hearing the appreciation of someone I have helped in some way. We thrive on being needed and wanted. Parenting is the simplest way to fulfill some of the most pressing, immediate needs. If we gain joy from being wanted and needed, then parenting can bring the greatest joy. “It’s the most important job you’ll ever have,” one colleague said to me.

I have always seen my work with children in this light. I have felt myself change inside through the many demands and momentary impulses that a life with children contains. The patience, calmness, and humility I have gained with children is worth just as much as anything they have gained from me.

: : : The world of children is a world of intense love.

conflict irresolution

How much can children solve their disagreements?

Eileen was a particularly emotional fourth grader. She was highly sensitive to perceived insults or to being left out of a game. She could swing from laughter to sobbing at the drop of a leaf, and she could draw other children into her emotions, sometimes causing a general uproar among the students in the school.

This school made a pronounced commitment to conflict resolution processes among children. By giving children the opportunity to speak for themselves and listen to each other, the teachers hoped to get children to recognize each other’s needs and respond in caring ways. The process basically consisted of each student having the chance to state her or his feelings about something that had occurred, and making agreements about what course of action to take.

For Eileen the process became an opportunity to give full expression to all her frustrations and disappointments. She regularly asked for meetings with other children, and even began conducting them on her own, without a teacher present. She had a hard time distinguishing between having another child listen to her respectfully and getting another child to do what she wanted. Rather than solving her conflicts, this process seemed to fan the flames of them and make them far more disturbing.

What I did initially in the face of all this was to stop having conflict meetings entirely for a while. I explained to the students that this wonderful tool was not simply a way to have more arguments or force other people to listen. I said that if a meeting was really necessary, a teacher would call for it. Later over the course of the year, I did initiate many talks between students, and I carefully guided them to keep either child from manipulating the situation.

I think poor Eileen really needed some clear, unemotional responses to her turbulent feelings. Putting her in control of a conflict resolution process only seemed to feed her weaknesses, not her strengths. I think people also sometimes mistake such a process as a way of giving children control and “allowing them to work it out.” Children, in my experience, do not have the cognitive tools or the emotional maturity to resolve conflict in a reasonable way. Left to themselves, they tend to create hierarchical power structures in favor of the biggest, strongest, or most ruthless. They desperately need the guidance and perspective of adults to bring out the qualities that will make them more harmonious and more caring.

When an adult is present to create a level playing field, conflict resolution can be a powerful learning experience for both the strong and the weak. By looking attentively at the human face before them, children discover that we all experience feelings of doubt, loss, and hurt. They can feel compassion, even for a moment. They can learn that even our enemies have some deep bond with us.

: : : Insist that children listen to each other, and see humanity there.

acceptance

Why do children become inflexible?

Ariel came to me deeply upset about Laurie. Between sobs, she told me how Laurie had said something mean to her and was not her friend anymore. Laurie, who was a year or two older and admittedly had a fairly caustic manner, apologized and said she didn’t mean it. But that wasn’t really enough for Ariel.

The children were leaving for the day, and I stayed with Ariel to help her put these feelings into perspective. “How can she be my friend if she says mean things?” she whimpered. I explained to her that people sometimes make mistakes, that perhaps Ariel could even remember making mistakes herself. It doesn’t mean that person can’t be a friend anymore.

“I’ll never be her friend,” she answered vehemently.

I responded carefully, “Ariel, I know you feel that way right now. But how can you be someone’s friend if you don’t forgive?” She didn’t answer, and was obviously troubled by the question.

Part of growing up (if not most of growing up) is becoming more aware. As our minds mature in childhood, we begin to notice conflicting desires, especially with regard to people. One of the great challenges of life is to accept paradox and inconsistency, without allowing them to rule our choices. The young child does not even notice anything wrong. The older child begins to notice and becomes horrified. How can it be possible to say something you don’t mean? How can a person act one way with me and another way with someone else? The danger in these questions is that they push us to become intolerant and less aware despite our growing awareness. It is a painful process.

The question that I asked Ariel was intended to keep that process moving. The idea of forgiveness (or of gratitude or generosity) is one that refuses us the chance to become small and narrow. If we abandon a friend, then we are also abandoning our capacity for friendship. What an awful choice! It compels us to see ourselves clearly, to know that the way we treat people has significance much more for ourselves than for them.

: : : Reflect with children on what they wish to become.

a big idea

How do we help children to think?

I created a class newsletter for my nine and ten year olds. It had several sections in it for different curriculum areas and for different aspects of our life in school. One of the sections I called “The Big Ideas.” It was a place to report on some of the interesting, thought-provoking conversations we had in class every day, on a wide range of topics: the environment, friendship, civil rights, the beginning of our country, music, religion, and so on.

Each time we produced this newsletter, students would ask me, “What am I supposed to write for The Big Ideas?”

“Can you remember any big ideas or thoughtful conversations we had yesterday?”

“No,” they would answer.

I began to make a practice of pointing out when a big idea appeared. We would read something together about the Great Depression and discuss what inflation is. “Did you notice that was a big idea?”

Young children do not normally think deeply about their thinking. They form categories based on literal, observable aspects of things, not on essential or formal qualities. When we set up our library, for example, I asked the students to suggest categories for the different sections. “Animal stories” was an important one. It didn’t really matter to them whether the animals were in a mystery or a fantasy or historical fiction; they just wanted to know the story was about animals.

So one way to inspire more “thinking about thinking” is to give them concrete experiences of it. The social act of creating this newsletter helped them discover what an idea is and what makes it big. By attaching the phrase “big idea” to several actual conversations, they formed an association for it in their minds which they might be able to extend to new conversations. The process of education is so full of marvels when it is approached in this way.

: : : Children learn about abstractions through naming their experience.

the meaningful echo

How does the child want you to respond?

Aimée often tells me things, especially things she did. “Look, papa, at what I made!” Or she tells me about other people, or about how to act. “I can’t have a cookie today because I’m still a little sick.” Sometimes she has a running dialogue going, as if she really wants to have a conversation with me.

I have conversations with Aimée, but not in the way I do with adults or teenagers. The truth is, I don’t feel that she really wants to know my opinion or my observation. She wants to share her own discoveries. If I were to tell her what I know all the time, with all my longer experience and better critical thinking, she would stop wanting to tell me anything. Why should she speak, if I always know better?

So I often don’t correct her when she says ridiculous things, or even just slightly inaccurate things. I repeat what she said. “Yes, you made that, all by yourself,” I say. “Are you still a little sick?” I sometimes judge the success of my listening and responding by whether she continues to talk. I genuinely want to hear what she has to say because it is her contribution to life right now. I also want her to keep the natural feeling that she can think and choose and act for herself, even if her thinking and choosing is mostly a pretense.

That’s not to say I repeat things mindlessly. I notice the meaningful part of what she said. I say it in a neutral way, so that she can change her mind if she wants. By bringing her thoughts into conversation, we are shining a light on them, so that she has a chance to examine them and refine them. We are practicing out loud an attitude of reflection and patience and self-analysis.

: : : Give importance to the child’s point of view.

making a sandbox castle

Does a child really have purpose?

Aimée, who is four, was playing in the sandbox. I stood at the door and watched her for a while. She was filling a plant pot with sand and talking to herself about making a castle. She carefully turned the pot upside down and pulled it away. The sand, which was too dry to hold its shape, fell into a shapeless mound.

I, as an adult, imagined that she would try to “fix” this problem and achieve the castle shape she was looking for. She didn’t seem interested in that. She just started pushing the sand around some other way, making a road or a river.

Purpose is a fairly mature concept. The process of having an idea, laying out a plan, and carrying it through several steps to completion is something that even ten-year-olds struggle to do. The child’s mind simply doesn’t have the stamina, or sequential organization, or global perspective necessary to do such a thing.

The purposes of a child are therefore much less fixed. They waver very quickly according to unexpected difficulties or barriers. The process of moving toward one goal may suggest other goals. Why strive for a castle if a road is presenting itself? Children seem to live in that kind of dialogue with the environment. In a way Aimée was letting her own inner purpose be guided by the sand’s purpose.

What that means for us is that we should not imagine that children’s purposes are like adult ones. I certainly don’t mean we should ignore them or thwart them. But we can, with well chosen words, help children redirect their actions in more suitable ways. We can also watch children’s real feelings, instead of imagining their disappointment or satisfaction at the outcome of their efforts.

: : : Take children seriously, but only as much as they do themselves.

negative responses

Why do children resist new things?

Sometimes when I introduce a new idea, my class erupts in a chorus of “No!” Of course I always stop them. “Every experience is a chance for you to learn and enjoy yourself,” I say. They are cooperative and willing to try many things. What I don’t do is change my mind to suit their momentary preference.

What often surprises me is that their reaction turns very quickly from a vocal negative one to a vocal positive one. I have learned over time that their first response is usually an imaginary one. They protest the unknown. They resist making new efforts. Once the unknown becomes known, and once the effort is made, they begin to appreciate what is happening.

I have another sense about these negative responses. Children constantly play with their power to change things, and sometimes that power is far more interesting to them than any plan or lesson I might have. For nine and ten year olds, the relationship with a teacher becomes a bit of a game. “Suppose I contradict you, what will happen then?” they seem to ask. Their identity is not yet wrapped up in becoming an individual, in the manner of adolescents, but they begin to question whether the adult is really in charge.

These plays for power are very important for growth, I think. I remember a passage in Laurens Van der Post’s A Story Like the Wind, where a man asks a boy to shoot a dangerous and enraged elephant. The man stands ready at a moment’s notice to take charge, but he is careful not to betray any anxiety to the boy. He allows the boy to experience the feeling of total responsibility.

: : : Respond to children’s motives, not their words.

I can’t paint

How will children judge themselves less harshly?

When I introduced our first painting project for the year, my fourth and fifth graders immediately announced, almost to a child, that they couldn’t paint. I knew this group had been painting for years, so I was a little surprised. Here’s what I said.

“You think you can’t paint? Well, I can’t really paint either, but I’m going to paint something right now. Here’s a memory from my childhood. My dad liked to build walls. So I’m going to paint him building a wall. I know I can’t paint, but I’m just going to forget about that for a moment.

“Where will I start the painting? I remember his sweater well, so I’ll begin with the sweater. Here are the shoulders and the arms and the torso. That’s not too bad. It doesn’t look exactly like a sweater, but who’s complaining? Everyone already knows I can’t paint. Now here are his pants. I’m making sure to wash my brush carefully between colors, and dab it on the sponge to make it dry.”

After a few minutes, they were all pretty impressed with what I could do, even though I assured them I can’t really paint. Then we started the project.

Around eight or nine years old, children start to look at the work they do differently. They are able to hold more clearly in their minds an idea of what it “should” be in relation to what it is. They think of drawings more as realistic representations, less as imaginative impressions. In brain development, their left hemispheres are becoming more active. The children are more analytical. It’s very strange, but they have to practice being imaginative, or they will lose the ability. This is the beginning of the separation between childhood and adulthood.

: : : Self-criticism needs to be tempered with boldness and a light heart.

getting out of control

Why do children persist when we want them to stop?

When I was still a fairly new teacher, I was sharing a first/second grade class with a colleague. Each morning we had a “circle time” with children, singing songs and getting ourselves ready for what the day would hold. It takes a certain skill to talk to a group of children that age and hold their attention.

On that day this group of children’s attention was particularly hard to hold. Many of them started rolling with each other on the floor and just generally acting silly. My response was to tell them we were going to walk back out of the room and try entering again in the right way. We did that twice, but the misbehavior just became worse. We left the room a third time, and then my colleague arrived.

I was curious to see what would happen now with this much more experienced teacher. In fact, they did exactly the same thing. She was astonished, because they had never acted that way with her before. She solved the situation by simply taking them on a walk and then beginning to read them a story. In the middle of the story, she put the book down and reflected with them on how unkind and out of control that behavior was. Now that they were listening, they got the message.

If I had known what I now know, I would have explained the whole situation to my colleague to prepare her. I realized that it made no difference who was there; the children had quickly formed a habit of walking in and then rolling on the floor. Children do this all the time, inventing routines and then repeating them many times. I think it is a way of experiencing memory and time. They repeat actions to keep the actions present to their minds.

My strategy of repeating our entry, therefore, because it was only mechanical, was only reinforcing their behavior, not stopping it. To change a child’s pattern requires energy, creativity, timing, and an awareness of what really engages the child’s attention.

: : : Change the routine to change the behavior.

are there boundaries?

How much can children get what they want?

Rex was beginning first grade in a school that valued freedom for children. He was not easy to manage—highly active, impulsive, and sometimes defiant of teachers. He seemed unable to do careful work or listen long enough to understand what he was doing. He required constant surveillance by teachers, or he would draw other children into his fast-moving, disruptive activities.

One day Rex had a particularly hard time, and in talks with his teacher, he began saying he wanted to leave the school and “go back to Arizona”. He said he hated this school and had no friends there. (He was actually very popular among the boys.)

This teacher, guided by a school philosophy of listening to what children want and helping them understand how to achieve it, continued asking Rex questions about what was bothering him and how he thought leaving might help. Rex seemed to become increasingly depressed, and repeated his answers.

The next day as children were arriving, a parent brought Rex into the classroom having found him wandering in the parking lot. Without anyone noticing, he had left the class in search of his mother, who had just dropped him off. This event caused some stir, of course, about safety in the school.

What struck me about Rex’s behavior was that he was actually exercising the kind of freedom that the school promoted, but not in a way anyone expected. What did he really need at this time? Did he need to feel that people were listening, or did he need stronger boundaries? Many children his age will say things like “I’m bored” or “I hate this” without any deep consideration at all. When they find that such words do not change their circumstances, they begin to enjoy the experience. They learn about delayed gratification—the fundamental idea that real satisfaction comes through work and self-control.

We as adults can help children learn this lesson by responding little to their complaints and recognizing their positive efforts. This is not being insensitive. It is being highly sensitive to the reality in which we live, and to the possibility for happiness in every moment, regardless of circumstances.

: : : Psychological boundaries help children create a sense of contentment in themselves.

conscious eating

How will children enjoy their food more calmly?

At lunchtime, I was finding that many students in my fourth and fifth grade class would become so excited about their games that they would eat too fast, not eat at all, or carry their food around the playground. They were not stopping to consider what their bodies needed.

When children are in a group, their way of thinking begins to predominate much more than the adult perspective. Their impulsiveness increases, their imitation becomes less thoughtful, and their self-regulation can almost disappear. A group mentality forms. They really need help from adults even more than when they are alone.

There is an ancient spiritual practice of conscious eating as a way to experience deeper states of awareness. I decided this might be a good opportunity for the children to change their habits. I told them we would all eat silently together, in the quiet classroom, before going out to play. I explained that this would be a way of becoming more aware of our own actions.

When the time came, I guided them through the experience. “Think about your body. Think about your breathing. Your body is working for you all the time, all through the day, whether you think about it or not. Think about it now just for this moment, and be thankful for how well it works.

“Now we are going to feed your body, consciously, with attention. Notice how the food looks and smells. Enjoy it even before you put it in your mouth. Then chew it slowly. Notice the many tastes in the food. See if you can notice all the tastes. Feel the texture of it. Think about it as it enters your stomach and your body begins to draw life force from it. This food is helping to keep you alive.

“Think about where the food comes from, all the different parts of it. Not just the store where it was bought, but the place where it was made, and the farm where it was grown. Think about all the people who worked to make this food which you are now eating, which is now keeping you alive. Be thankful for the work of all those people. Now let’s eat in silence, reflecting calmly about all these things.”

: : : Children can learn greater awareness through guidance and practice.

not liking meals

How can we instill the right eating habits?

Children in our school sometimes leave their lunches half eaten, or even untouched. They rush off to an important game, unwilling to miss even a minute of their exciting play. In response, it is our practice as teachers to insist that everyone sit down for a period of time at the beginning of recess to make sure they eat the food their bodies need. Even those who are finished can enjoy a few minutes at the table with those who are not.

I believe that children’s bodies will tell them what they need if we remove the distractions. There are many distractions: overstimulating foods (like sweets), overstimulating company (like each other), and overstimulating habits (like impulsive eating, without a routine). Our bodies function much better when we are calm.

One reader writes of a child who does not like meals and complains about eating. I wonder what experience this child associates with meals. Are they testing the child’s patience? Are the expectations unclear for the child? Do the meals follow a predictable routine? I would suggest making a set of concrete guidelines for eating, and then repeating them as often as necessary. Children tend to complain less when they know the complaints really won’t change anything.

It is often very hard for adults to be utterly consistent with children, yet consistency is what gives them emotional stability. Their play often follows repetitive and predictable patterns. They are always trying to make sense of what is going on. I think one of the deepest sources of anxiety in children is the unpredictability of other people, especially caretakers. If parents allowed this yesterday, will they allow it today? When they say something will happen, will it really happen? These questions apply to all of the ways we regulate children’s lives, and especially to something as basic as eating.

Sometimes complaining itself becomes a habit, without any particular goal in the child’s mind. Then I begin calling attention to the behavior. “I notice you are using a complaining voice to say that. Is there another way to say it? A cheerful voice is much more enjoyable. If you can use a cheerful voice, I will want to listen to you.” Self-awareness helps children understand how they influence other people. As they understand their power better, they will use it for better ends.

: : : Make routines; keep them; celebrate them.

being alone

How do children value quiet time?

I had an afterschool class that sometimes needed to take a break from constant activity with each other. Children often don’t regulate their energy very well, playing until they are emotionally exhausted, and even then not realizing how they feel. So I created alone time. This is one of the great powers that adults have: conceiving a plan, naming it, and carrying it out. Once I explained alone time to the children, it was real.

I said to the children, “After we have enjoyed a lot of games together, it can feel wonderful to have some time alone, some quiet time. Then we can think our own thoughts and have our own ideas and breathe slowly and enjoy the silence. Then we feel ready to play with others again. So each of you will have a special place for your alone time. You can choose one toy or game or book to have in your place. It has to be a game that you can play alone. Choose something you can play for a long time, because we will do this for ten minutes.” Then one by one I assigned the children a place and helped them choose an activity.

The room became so peaceful! Children live in a psychic space as much as a physical one, and it really did not matter that they could all see each other. They understood that they would be alone, and they acted that way. Although they may have protested at first, they really needed this time, and they sensed that. Their nervous systems had a chance to calm down. Their minds had a chance to reflect.

How many opportunities like this do we give children? Between home and school, life can become a never-ending series of stimulations, from other people, from video and audio media, and from impulsive change. It is no wonder that many children have difficulty taking quiet time; they don’t really know what it is. Stillness is as natural as breathing. When we adults give quiet time as much importance as eating or bathing or going to school, children learn to value it.

: : : Quiet periods come through practice, habit, and rhythm.

avoiding math

Can children really have a preference?

Halley was now in her second year of this first/second grade class. I needed to make sure she was gaining math skills in a school that gave children a lot of opportunity to make choices. Her choices were never bringing her to the math area. She would much rather spend time in the greenhouse or in the art room or in the writing corner. Every time I went to request some math practice, she looked disappointed and dragged her feet.

For students like Halley, I began a system of requiring everyone to complete one activity each week, and I kept a checklist of those who had finished. It took some effort on my part, but Halley’s response was surprising. She began to get very interested in the math activities I was giving her. Instead of disappointment, she began to show real enthusiasm for her own math accomplishments, and I hardly had to remind her at all to complete the work.

When children express a preference for (or against) something, I really question how much they understand about their own choice. Often they give more value to what is familiar, since they know they will like it, in contrast with the unfamiliar, which may be pleasant or unpleasant. If they often get to choose for themselves, they can form ingrained habits, and become even more resistant to change.

The irony here is that choice makes them less free. Carried forward by unexamined impulses, children lose the ability to look deeply at anything. The desire for immediate satisfaction wins over the patience that brings real satisfaction. What Halley discovered was the joy of doing work and learning through the process. She would probably need many more experiences like that before she would challenge herself through her own initiative. The restriction I placed on her actually gave her opportunities that she didn’t know existed.

: : : Structure deepens a child’s freedom.

the social decisions

How do children make up their minds?

Our neighbor Celia had come over to play with Aimée. She was a little distracted by what was going on at her home. She went back to get something, and took some time to return. Then after a few more minutes wandering around our living room, she left again. Aimée waited patiently, knowing that she wasn’t allowed to walk out without a parent. Celia seemed to be exploring her freedom to go home whenever she liked.

The second time Celia came back, she told Aimée that her sister and dad were playing a very fun game that they rarely play, and would Aimée like to go over there and join it?

What I did not do: solve the problem for Celia by letting Aimée go to her house. (What is the learning from a difficult choice if we simply remove it?) I had several motives for keeping Aimée at home.

I told Celia that she would have to decide whether she really wanted to play with Aimée or stay at home. I also told her it seemed like she really wanted to go home, to give her some strong permission for the choice. Despite that opening, she said she would remain with us. A few minutes later, she disappeared again to get something and did not return until her mother brought her back to explain that she really wanted to be home now.

Choices are extremely hard for young children because they have difficulty weighing all the desirable aspects of one situation against another. Usually the thing right in front of them is much more enticing than the thing they can’t see at the moment. When their perspective shifts (as when Celia went home), their inclination shifts too. Sometimes only the decisiveness of an adult will make them content to remain where they are.

A choice can be very burdensome, especially when it affects other people. Children are often glad to have adults make choices for them. My students far prefer to have me pick their partners than to pick each other. The social stresses of acceptance and rejection are just too high otherwise. The authority and judgment of an adult strikes a child with a certain amount of awe, even in early adolescence.

: : : Decisions are temporary until they get the stamp of adult agreement.

erasing the work

How does a child feel about being corrected?

Nathaniel was a second-grader in my class, and the year had recently just begun. We were working on an arithmetic question on the board. He seemed proud that he could give an answer to the question. He worked it out on the board and came back to his seat. The answer was not correct.

After some discussion with the students, I indicated that his answer could not be right, and I erased it. Nathaniel stared hard at the board for a few moments and then could not hold back his feelings. He hunched over and started crying. I felt terrible! I tried to comfort him, rubbed his back, reassured him that he had done a good job. Later I mentioned the incident to his mother, wondering if he had gone home upset. She looked blank, and said he never brought it up.

My approach to teaching math has evolved since that time, and I now use class discussion to allow children to correct themselves. I tell them to say “I disagree” instead of “that’s wrong.”

I think I learned two important things from that experience with Nathaniel. The first is that young children attach great importance to the physical results of their work. In a way, the work and the physical component are identical, as if by writing a love letter, I were actually embodying my love in the letter. The second is somewhat deeper: Children have very private lives, in which their struggles may go quite unnoticed by people close to them. Who can say what passions and inspirations are passing silently through their hearts? It takes a perceptive mind to penetrate the mystery of a child’s thoughts.

: : : Children feel attached to what they create. They can be very sensitive to the judgments of others.

parroting

Why do children mimic?

Aimée, who is four, sometimes mindlessly repeats what other children say. She is a child with a strong mind of her own, but some impulse drives her to act like a helpless echo of the attitudes and intentions she hears in her environment. Once she even started participating in a light form of bullying toward a child who was refusing to join a game. Her mother witnessed this and stopped her immediately and made her apologize.

(I do not normally make children apologize. Words have a sacred connection to meaning, and children have a special sense of words. Children are far more sincere than most adults, and the command “say you’re sorry” is in essence an encouragement for them to lie, even to themselves. On the other hand, I might suggest, “you could say you’re sorry” as a way of making atonement. Then the child has a chance to choose the intention before saying the words.)

Why does Aimée at some times exert so much willful determination and at others such stupid conformity? What is her goal? Well, as always, she must be trying to grow up. Growing up takes two things: being independent, and being aware. Sometimes it is easier to focus on one of these at a time. To be independent, all she has to do is contradict. To be aware, all she has to do is mimic. So here she has two very simple, concrete strategies for becoming a person like the rest of us.

On a deeper level, children are extraordinary receivers of energy. They absorb the influences of environment the way a plant absorbs water. It will take years for Aimée to become clearly aware of the choices she makes. In a way, she cannot really make choices; she can only experiment with them.

: : : Repetition is a path toward growth and understanding.

climbing on counters

How to stop a child from climbing up on the counter? I've told Hidal many times that it's not allowed because his feet are dirty and we eat food off the counter. He's obviously trying to get something he can't reach, and therefore climbs up, so perhaps I'll ask him, what other way can you get it?

Every household has different expectations. If you allow Hidal to go into the cupboards on his own, make it clear that this is by your permission, not just because he can. Then the counter becomes a territory in which your rules matter. If he can’t follow your rules, he may not be allowed to open cupboards for a day. When I set a consequence like this, I always remind the child that there will be another chance to try again.

For a young child, too many steps can become confusing or burdensome. Give him a very simple alternative to climbing on the counter, and practice it with him a few times. The path from impulse to action is often much shorter for children! He needs to replace an old habit with a new one, which requires some attention and energy, especially from you.

If Hidal is not understanding your concern about clean counters, have him clean them a few times. Then he’ll see a different “path of least resistance”!

: : : Our words are much more meaningful to children with concrete demonstrations.

your journey

What’s on your mind?

The alastair blog has been up for nearly a month now, so please talk back! You can comment on a particular entry, or in a more general way about your experience with children. Ask me questions, as that gives me an idea of what readers are wondering and thinking about. If you prefer to email me directly, that’s fine. We who work with children are not alone in our journey.

Have you experienced the differences in a child’s way of thinking? Have you found certain ways of speaking and acting that seem to reach the child’s perspective? Are certain behaviors inexplicable to you?

Have any of my approaches inspired you or helped you? Which ones? Have any of them fallen flat? Why do you think that happened?

Here are some topics suggested by a reader that I plan to address in upcoming entries:

: how to encourage quiet time with an excitable child
: how to break a cycle of a child resisting meals
: how to stop a child from climbing up on the counter!

If you have some thoughts, write them now. You’ll never find more time later. (Unless your life is much more predictable than mine.)

no ice cream

How can I maintain routines when other families are around?

I was staying with friends who do not maintain as much control over sugar foods as I do with Aimée. After dinner we were planning to have roasted marshmallows. One of the children started asking for ice cream, and the freezer was getting opened. I quickly asked if we were still planning to have marshmallows. Yes, that plan was reaffirmed. I said that I wanted Aimée to have only one dessert, and this became the general plan for all the children.

It is not always clear how to balance different parenting styles. I certainly do not fault other parents for the choices they make, even if I strongly disagree with them. Probably most parents wonder at some time what other parents are thinking: Do I seem too harsh? Do I seem too yielding? I’m always ready to reexamine my choices, but they are usually based on very clear principles and a sense of how my daughter will thrive over the long term. Strictness in the moment is often very gentle in its results. Permissiveness, on the other hand, can end up becoming angry or chaotic.

I asked myself, why couldn’t I let go of these expectations just for one visit? Will Aimée’s eating habits be ruined by a short week of indulgence? Then I realized that my concern was not really for the future, but for right now. Routine and habit are so comforting for a child, and with so much unfamiliarity going on, it does seem very stabilizing to assert some of the usual rules, even if she protests. I believe that a decision like this contributes to her enduring sense of calmness. Calmness in a child is precious, and unfortunately rare.

: : : Rules and consistency help children regulate their own impulses.

treating children like adults?

What is the balance between respect for children and parent authority?

I find sometimes that people tend to ask children unnecessary questions or give children unnecessary choices out of a sense of adult respect. In normal social interaction, we do not normally command other people; we suggest things to them. We count on the social and moral understanding of others to give our suggestions the proper weight.

Children have far too inadequate a social and moral understanding to respond well to a suggestion like, “Should we clean up now?” To a child, a suggestion like this is very confusing. Is this question really offering a choice, or is it simply a veiled command? How can the child really assess whether now is the “right” time to clean up? Does the adult not know the answer? I try to avoid such questions with children, and give my expectations in an honest and direct way.

I see parents struggling to understand what children are exactly, and what they can do. How do children make choices? How much do they use logic? What memories do they have? How much do their feelings last? What do their words mean? The answers to these questions have a lot to do with the way we treat them. (Or conversely, the way we treat them has a lot to do with our subtle answers to these questions.)

Children are not adults, but they will be one day. I think this is the crux of our dilemma.

Children are like adults in their spiritual qualities—their feeling of importance, their desire for love, and their search for meaning. They deserve respect for these qualities. They are unlike adults in other, more functional qualities—their ability to reason, their self-control, their understanding of language, and their awareness of consequences. They deserve guidance, not just respect, in their development of these qualities.

: : : Respect for children means appreciation for their limits.

listening

Eric had some difficulty with rest time in kindergarten afterschool. Instead of lying down, he tended to run in a circle around the room. I had tried explaining the routine ahead of time, moving through a series of preparation activities, giving him physical activity before; but this boy just really didn’t want to rest. I waylaid him on his next pass around the room and moved him to the couch, lying on his back.

I said, “Eric, this is your spot for rest time; stay right in this spot.” I wasn’t holding him anymore, but he kept squirming as if trying to escape from a web of ropes. I was nearly at the end of mine. I looked straight into his eyes and said quietly and forcefully, “Eric, you are being so still!” To my eternal astonishment, his arms and legs went stiff. His wide eyes fixed on me, and he did not get up.

The suggestibility of young children is hard to overestimate. They act out exactly what is going on in their minds, and often the source of their behavior is a direct impulse from their environment. So why didn’t Eric listen to me more? I think he listened more closely than I realized, and possibly more closely than I really wanted.

Children interpret tone, facial expressions, body language, and literal meaning. They do not always recognize the adult’s thought process or social expectations, but they certainly know when adults are displeased. That negative focus can actually increase the behavior we think we are trying to stop. The words “stop touching the curtains” immediately strengthen the thought of touching the curtains. It takes great discipline to cultivate the habits of thought and speech that are always encouraging, but then see what the children do in response!

meditation

How can children practice stillness and quiet?

I have a class of fourth and fifth graders who practice meditation with me every day. It is not easy to get a whole group of students completely quiet and still. In fact, it is impossible if I think that I am the one doing it. Only they can do it, which means they must want to do it.

There are many ways that children can want to meditate. They feel the challenge of controlling their bodies. They relax more. They notice sounds in the environment. These rewards are enough for many of my students. For everyone to really become focused, however, I need more support.

I began dropping little paper clips into a jar to mark off the minutes. The sound would become a rhythmic source of concentration in the silence. I also offered a reward: one extra minute of recess for each minute of real stillness. It amazed me how much that little minute mattered, especially to the ones with restless energy! They were willing to work very hard for it, and the whole group benefitted.

Some children take naturally to the peace that they feel in meditation. For others, just knowing that such an activity is possible can give them greater awareness of themselves. Meditation is the art of sitting in this world. It is the discipline of acceptance.

: : : You can teach calmness with a sensory focus, in small steps.

getting the same thing

What is fair for children?

“Fair” is a word that I have heard many children use, but rarely with much understanding. Usually when that word appears, it just means “what I want,” but disguised as an objective principle. It’s a very powerful word to use with adults, who want to be perceived as fair. I think if you really examine the language children use, it is often guided by a quest for power, with adults and with other children.

Fairness can be very superficial if it is based only on the appearance of getting the same thing. Why would we give the same thing to children of different ages, different temperaments, different family backgrounds, different abilities, or different passing impulses? We would then be reducing the concept of fairness to sheer mechanics, like cutting the brownies to an equal size.

When I give something to a child, I try to think of that child as an individual. Of course, as a teacher I also give importance to the idea of fairness. I see the variation in what children can do. I often give a range of choices, so that children can gravitate to what best suits them. I show them that I am trying to give them what they need, regardless of anyone else in the room. They usually come to trust that I know what I’m doing, and they realize that the glamor of what others have is actually quite thin.

When children trust the authority of adults, they no longer need to struggle as much for power. They become calmer, more self-assured, and more able to enjoy themselves.

: : : Fairness means feeling valued.

putting things away

I noticed during dinner that Aimée and Hidal had left the chalk out on the pavement. I made a mental note to divert them right after dinner to put it away. (The timing of a request can make a profound difference in how the request is received.)

Hidal is a boy that likes to be in motion, talks a lot, and changes his mind quickly. You could even (conservatively) say that he is a victim of the restless monkey mind. He is also smart, and knows how to work situations to his benefit. While Aimée did a remarkably efficient job picking up pieces of chalk, Hidal took a long time to put his shirt on. (Here’s what I did not do: tell him to hurry up or tell Aimée to leave half of it undone. These reactions might discourage him.) I helped him with the shirt. Aimée suddenly had to run to the bathroom, and there were fortunately a few pieces still left. Hidal dutifully took care of those.

I’m not sure if he was intentionally dragging his feet, but I can bet that Hidal knows how to avoid work if he wants. I just want him to make some contribution, to reinforce the principle of caring for our things. I don’t care if he does an equal share, because I know that a five-year-old’s awareness has only a vague understanding of quantity anyway. I also know that for Hidal’s temperament, doing a little cleanup may require much more inner work than Aimée’s doing the whole job. It’s really the inner work that matters, isn’t it?

teaching letters during a tantrum

Aimée is a calm, independent, resourceful four-year-old child. She also throws tantrums periodically. We do not let her cry for long periods at the dinner table. If she does not make an effort to control her voice, we bring her up to her room until she can be quieter. This response, of course, often escalates the crying to screaming (but if we become afraid of making a child scream, the screaming child becomes the emporer).

One day I had her in the bedroom, physically barring her way out, and holding her feet if she tried to kick me (something she knows I will do). I do not get angry at her when this happens, but I admit to feeling numb and irritable. After a few minutes, I started picking up some nearby letter blocks, saying the sounds of them, and making words. I left pauses for her to repeat what I said, but went on if she didn’t. A few minutes later she was repeating everything and trying to make some of her own words. Then we went downstairs and continued dinner.

A child often has insurmountable feelings. She literally can’t stop them, nor wait for them to subside. Trying to control her feelings is like trying to pick up water with her hands. When Aimée has the thought of frustration and refusal in her mind, that is all she has in her mind. It takes experience, brain development, and practice to change one’s state of mind. By using the letter blocks, I was simply giving her mind something else to focus on. The activity was unexpected enough, unusual enough, and interesting enough to make her forget the anger and weaken its hold. We didn’t solve any “problem” or make any “agreement,” because those are analytical, adult processes. Once the feeling is gone in a child, it is really gone.

make the truth your friend

Elmer was in kindergarten, and he had some difficulty holding to the truth. He would employ lying as a simple tactic for getting what he wanted. He would then look at me with a kind of guileless, tentative expression. It was like a grand experiment of his.

The truth is a fascinating thing for children—or rather, they are fascinated by what is not the truth. They gradually come to realize that other people—even adults—often don’t know what is in their minds. But how do we then keep a child from careening down the path of shameless deception and self-gratification? The answer to that could create a whole culture.

Here is what I did not do: tell Elmer that lying is arbitrarily bad, threaten him with punishment, show him anger, ignore what happened, or appeal to any outside authority (God included). What I did do has stayed with me as a helpful response to a child.

I asked, “Elmer, do you think if you tell the truth, the truth will become your friend?” He said no. I went on, “If you do make the truth your friend, it will always help you. But if you make the truth your enemy, it will always fight against you. I think it’s better to have the truth as your friend.” He agreed. Elmer was a child who liked to have friends.

I believe the only real moral guidance children can receive is based on choice. They are going to find out soon enough that they really do have a choice, regardless of what fears we put into their heads along the way. If we deny them choice, we become their prison wardens. If we grant them choice and leave them to discover the consequences, we become cruel onlookers. I try to explain to them in neutral, illustrative ways how a choice is likely to result, and make them aware that goodness is really up to them.

taking the girls to rest time

We were away for the weekend with another family. The four girls (4-6 years) were very excited, staying up late, and getting up early the next day. After an active trip to the beach, we had some lunch, and then the parents agreed on a rest time for the children. I was concerned that they would otherwise become strained and exhausted.

I went to the girls and explained to them what was happening. “If we rest and relax, then we are able to play some more,” I told them. Erica immediately said no, she did not want to have rest time. I didn’t argue; I simply continued telling them how wonderful rest time would be. They could lie on their beds, look at books, and then after a quiet period, they could get up. The other three girls by this time were moving toward the house, so I turned and walked with them. Erica, unsure how to refuse anymore, slowly followed us.

They silently came into the house, found books, and sat on their beds. I asked them what they would read and where they would lie down. Then I left, ready to return if they needed some reminders. The contrast between this calm atmosphere and the earlier excitement was quite palpable. The rest lasted about half an hour, and then they all played happily for another two hours, without any intervention.

How do children become cooperative instead of adversarial? The way we talk to them actually cues their response. I didn’t ask them any questions about what they would like. I simply told them what was going to happen. Knowing what is going to happen is comforting, not confining. I also explained how rest time would feel good to them. Children often need reminders about what will feel good. The reality of rest time, for all human beings, is that it gives us the respite from activity that makes our activity enjoyable. Resting itself, of course, can be enjoyable. Children will realize this if they are guided to it, but they cannot usually regulate their own rest periods. I the adult, by acting as their clock and schedule, become a very helpful influence for them.

aimée’s little cry

Aimée is my four-year-old daughter. She is very self-disciplined most of the time, and has rarely demanded the kind of parental “surveillance” that I often see going on in families. I don’t think she ever deliberately threw food on the floor, for example. (I consider myself mainly lucky for this, but perhaps clever enough to recognize when I can leave her alone.) Tonight she was with me for dinner at a friend’s house and for some reason decided she needed to scoop spaghetti up with her hands and stuff it into her mouth like a banana.

I objected as soon as I saw it, and told her she needed to keep it in the bowl. She didn’t cooperate, so I moved the bowl away from her and said she could have the spaghetti if she ate it properly. She just burst into tears and wailed about wanting to eat it that way. (Here’s what I didn’t do: argue, raise my voice, repeat myself, or appeal to reason. All of those reactions are more likely to escalate her feelings.) I reached over and rubbed her back a little, thinking that she must be so tired after such an active day with friends. I may even have said that out loud. A few moments later she stopped crying and seemed ready to try again, so I gave her the bowl.

Children usually have pretty compelling reasons for doing what they do. As it turned out, Aimée thought she could avoid spilling spaghetti everywhere by holding it with both hands. I showed her that biting it and letting the rest fall in the bowl would accomplish the same purpose. Could we have reached that understanding without her little crying episode? I don’t know. Sometimes I need to be very uncompromising before she even wants to negotiate. A four-year-old child knows what power is and wants as much as possible. If she doesn’t get it, how can she grow up? That little moment of crying is a plea for the distant time when I will no longer interfere with her eating habits!

crossing the bridge

I was walking with some children and their parents down a woods trail that crossed a stream in several places. The bridges were fairly narrow planks, one or two feet above the water. Parents have varying degrees of comfort with situations where children might fall or hurt themselves. I seem to find myself on the more relaxed end of the spectrum. I see a moderate amount of pain or discomfort as a powerful teacher for a child. I don’t like to interfere too much with the teacher unless her methods are really dangerous.

Since I was at the front of the line, my attitude seemed to set the standard for the children. One of the girls was rather timid about crossing. I watched her face to see how courageous she really wanted to be. (Here’s what I did not do: assume she wanted my help, assume she was scared, or declare there was no reason to be afraid.) I asked if she wanted to hold my hand. Another child said she didn’t need help, and I think this girl felt emboldened to say she didn’t either. So I went across myself. Then she stopped and looked worried, so I asked her again. This time she said she wanted a hand, so I returned without comment and gave her my hand to cross. Later she began walking near my hand but not holding it. By the end of the walk, we were all crossing the bridges very confidently.

Safety for a child means emotional safety. I could judge the safety of those bridges in a way that she couldn’t, but only she could judge the level of trust in her own balance and reflexes. I left her to be the judge of that and offered my services where she needed them. That way she could experiment a little with her own capability, instead of taking my word for it. Independence of spirit is very valuable for a child.

there’s a tornado coming

I was at a park with a group of families for a campout once, and the weather was a little wet and stormy, with even a tornado warning. As usual at such an event, there was a lot of running around and excited shouting. Ariel, seven years old, came abruptly up to her parents, with whom I was talking at the moment. I didn’t really know her, although I knew she would be my student the next fall. She said, “There’s going to be a tornado!”

I asked her, “Are you scared about it, or are you excited?” She looked at me blankly for a few moments and then dashed away from us.

Ariel’s expression did not give much idea how she felt about her news, and so prompted my question. She seemed more interested in the effect on other people of the idea of a tornado than on herself. When I asked that question, maybe she didn’t really know the answer. It’s good for adults not to predict or assume what a child feels without some clear signal from the child. It takes many years for children to understand what they feel and what feelings are. (Let’s be honest; sometimes adults are still wondering.)

What children do have that many adults don’t is a fresh point of view. I can remember many times in my life when I witnessed people’s reactions to something and then came to regard the thing as wonderful or terrible. I’m very glad to allow children to develop their own judgment when there is no reason for me to impose my own.