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.