Posts Tagged kid thoughts
Munchkins and the choices they make
So there we were — a nine-year old, arms folded, brow scrunched up in anger and teeth clenched… and an eight-year-old, dealing out a little silent treatment and holding a grudge while digging up worms in the dirt. I didn’t even ask what the problem was, it wouldn’t have furthered anybody’s cause.
“You should see yourself,” I told the angry 9.y.o. “You’re packing lots of angry all over the place like someone owes you something.” I would have taken a picture of her just for fun, but I didn’t have a camera handy, so — next best thing — I laughed at her.
Her angry eyes got angrier and even moistened up a bit. She pointed at the silent 8.y.o. and said”Well she’s the one who…”
I interrupted her. “It doesn’t matter. I’m guessing you would rather be playing with her, and not all angry in a huff, right?” No need to put me in the middle or have me take sides, I’m not going to play that game today, this is something she needs to work out for herself.
“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything wrong. She’s the one who…”
I interrupted again: “Five minutes ago doesn’t matter. How would you prefer to be interacting with her five minutes from now?”
The angry 9.y.o. thought a bit, and her brow softened a bit. “I’d rather be playing with her but she won’t talk to me. I didn’t do any–”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, “who did what or to whom. What does matter is you don’t want to be angry with her, you want to be playing with her, instead. In the past, do you remember that she apologized to you when you’d been fighting about something? Remember how quickly you both got over the anger? Why don’t you take a turn apologizing this time?” I suggested.
“I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING WRONG. She’s the one who should apologize…”
“So I can see you’re not going to try an apology. How about this: what if you just ACT like you’re not angry and maybe you two will start getting along? Imagine how you want things to be five minutes from now, and make that happen.”
The angry 9.y.o. didn’t think about this very long. Arms folded again, brow furrowed, eyes flashing. “She won’t talk to me!” The 8.y.o. sat in the dirt, digging up worms, still dealing out the silent treatment.
I thought I’d try to paint a simpler picture. “Okay,” I told the angry 9.y.o., “How about this: If you just now came outside and saw her digging up worms for the first time, what would you do?”
“I’d ask if I could join her,” said the 9.y.o. with a lot less anger than before.
I then whispered to her: “Try that.”
Five minutes later they were playing in the leaf pile as if nothing had ever been wrong.
So here I’ve got an idea. The evening before, the 9.y.o. mentioned that she is realizing that her being the way she is tends to put people off, similar to what happened the following morning with the 8.y.o. Once she drops the anger and pouting, everything gets better again. She thinks she’s doomed, since she doesn’t know what to do about it.
She just doesn’t realize that she can choose to respond with something besides anger.
I’m thinking I could recruit her 18-year-old sister to help. I might ask “How about you stress out your little sister as much as you possibly can? Push her buttons, make her scream in frustration, put obstacles in her way, make life inconvenient for her in every way. That’s your job, if you choose to accept it.”
Then I’d turn to the nine-year-old and say “and YOUR job is to learn that you can choose to respond with something besides anger…”
Not sure if their mom would appreciate having that environment at home, though.
Cause and Effect, the Best Educators
I stole a french fry right from the hands of my eight-year-old niece, and she said “You’re so cool.”
Is that the reaction you’d expect? Let me complete the picture:
So there I was, minding my own business, digesting some fast food we’d bought on the way to Chicago; I had already polished off my whole supper. My eight-year-old niece was sitting in the vehicle right across from me, still working on hers. She takes out a french fry, waves it around at me taunting me with “I’ve got a french fry, you don’t have any, I have a french fry…” Singing, of course. You get the picture.
She’s waving it at me, don’t forget. So I snatch it out of her hand, chew it up and swallow it, enjoying every morsel along the way. Gloating, even. I then ask her “Did you learn anything?”
She thinks for a moment — a bit of a pause, here — and takes out another french fry, and starts to wave it again, with the same song: “I’ve got a french fry, you don’t have any, I have a french fry…” but this time it’s well out of my reach. I say “Very good,” with a large grin.
She says “You’re so cool!”
I say “For stealing a french fry from you?”
She says “For teaching me stuff.”
Apparently she understands that I’m not going to steal all of her food. And here I thought I had her snowed.
Part of the context here is that most adults treat kids like they’re fragile, or should be fragile. Me stealing her french fry was a refreshing, bracing stimulus bringing her in direct contact with the “real world”. Most adults talk to kids, they don’t interact with kids. (I expect I’ll never understand how an adult can forget what it was like being a kid, and the types of interaction a kid hungers for. Zut alors!)
This probably would have induced emotional trauma if she was age three. But an eight-year-old is at the Age of Reason where she can start to make lots of conceptual connections. Valuable lesson, and it only cost a french fry.
So here are the rules:
- Establish a relationship of trust with the kid
- Let them experience a real loss (you should pick and choose, here — if you start with small losses early on, you might be able to avoid really big losses later)
- Get them to examine the situation and encourage them to consider what they would do differently next time
- Lather, rinse, repeat
It’s the sense of loss (or pain) that sets the stage for real learning. Skin your knee in a bicycle accident? You’ll work hard to never do it that way again. Lose your favorite watch? Once you find it or replace it you’ll pay much closer attention to where you set it down from now on. Say something really stupid and tick off a best friend? You’ll learn to either pay more attention to how you say things, or figure out how to get along without your ex-best friend.
But having them reflect on step 2 — this reflection itself is actually step 3 — is where the educating really happens. Get them to look at cause and effect, to reflect on their choices, and consider alternatives.
It’s that second step where most adults prefer to be efficient, or act the hero, rather than let their children learn. “My precious widdiw snookums needs his glasses, I’ll go get them for you, you silly forgettery-goose!” “Ickle duddykins must wear knee pads and only use the trampoline with the net around it, we don’t want any accidents!” “I’ll bail you out of jail, son, I’m on my way with the cash right now!”
Plus, you might wind up being late to the occasional baseball practice or the play or the party, if you let them panic about not being able to find something while you wait. Sure, it’s more efficient on time if you find it for them… but only in the short term is more efficient on time — just this afternoon, but not long term! You’ll be finding their stuff for them from now through when they return home from college!
When you separate consequence from action as a kid grows up — separating effect from cause — you’re likely to wind up with a totally irresponsible adult.
Completely unlike the U.S. Congress. I don’t know why you even brought that up.
Kid Thoughts
I’ve begun to examine what goes through my head when I’m interacting with kids. So I thought I’d share. The original rants are at Flickr.com, but here are some snippets:
There are few things I wouldn’t postpone or cancel when given the chance to interact with a child.
On self-confidence:
As Eleanor Roosevelt told us, “Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Give them the confidence to deal with people — ignore people — handle people — who want to do just that.
If you do your job right, they won’t be afraid to take silly pictures of themselves.
Noisy and involved is good:
Being quiet and civilized is important. On occasion. But usually it’s nowhere near as important as being noisy and interactive and educational.
Developing self-awareness:
Aggravate them regularly
Encouragement:
Encourage them to observe. Encourage them to discuss — which involves talking and listening.
And finally, why mud is the best learning medium, ever:
Get the kids to try stuff. Dirty stuff. Grimy stuff. Unorganized stuff. Organic stuff. Life stuff. Unpredictable stuff. Friends stuff. Alone stuff. Fun stuff. Scary stuff. Life stuff.
It’s more than thinking outside the box, it’s abandoning the box altogether.