playing little games

How do I show respect to a child?

Ken was not an easy student sometimes, in second grade. He tended to get loud and interrupt, or ignore what was going on. He was a little insecure, it seemed, and endlessly in competition with other students. One day his behavior irritated me a little, and I told him I needed him to stop “playing that little game” and be part of the class.

I saw my mistake right away; he became hot in protest (“It’s not a little game”), and obviously insulted that I would describe what he was doing that way. In other words, I had tried to elevate my project in his mind by denigrating his project. I’m happy to say I had the presence of mind in that moment to stop and apologize out loud. But I also used my apology as another opportunity to get his cooperation.

I said to him, “I’m sorry, Ken, that I called what you are doing a little game. I didn’t really mean that. Now that I’ve apologized to you, can you apologize to me for ignoring me while I was speaking?”

He looked down, a little unsure, and said, “Sorry.” I thanked him right away and went on.

It’s so hard to find the right balance of respect and authority with children, especially as they evolve a different sense of what respect means. A child’s need for help today can become a passion for independence tomorrow. I think it really helps to catch one’s missteps right away and bring them into open conversation.

My appeal to Ken was also based on his age. A 7-8 year old has a growing ability to judge what is fair, in a way that a 5 year old would not. He immediately saw the need for reciprocating my apology, and he felt respected by being part of such an exchange. He was also surprised by my willingness to admit a mistake - something he was learning how to do.

: : : Respect for a child means awareness of his emotional needs.

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.