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.

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.

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.