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.