Sibling bullies

Parenting is a tightrope to walk. I know that. It's so hard not to fall off one side or the other of that thinnest of thin lines- into over-regulation, or into permissiveness- even when you're trying your hardest.

But sometimes I see the chaos caused by well-meaning parents who misinterpret where the line is, and my heart bleeds for the kids, and I have to say something. LOUDLY. Today I'm saying something, LOUDLY, because yet again I've seen a child in pain when parents thought they were doing the right thing.

See, there's lots been said about how we shouldn't intervene too much between siblings. Let them sort it out. Don't force the relationship.  And I agree with that, within reason.

But let me show you what can happen when that approach gets taken too far. It's not pretty.

Lessons from The Slap: My child is perfect... or not.

As I wander around the internet reading blogs, advice columns and news articles about bringing up children, I often have cause to stop and cringe. 

Of course, I often have cause to stop in my tracks and say 'AHA!', too.  There is some brilliant parenting advice out there.  But sad to say, there are a lot of dodgy recommendations out there masquerading as good parenting advice. 

I don't mean the sort of 'whack-'em,-silence-'em-and keep-'em-in-line' advice that lacks respect for children as human beings; I scan that, shaking my head, and move on, because some people are just lost and will never see the light.  There's a lot of it on the forums.  I drop in my two cents' worth of rationality, hoping to balance the scales, and move on.

No, I'm talking about the sort of advice that is so fulsomely positive (and I use 'fulsome' with its original definition) that it gives children a false view of the world.  Your child is perfect. Let them follow their desires or you risk stifling their creativity.  Praise everything you can, to boost their self-esteem. That sort of thing.

Poor, confused parents.  Good parenting, like truth, is such a subjective thing. It falls somewhere between 'too much' and 'too little', and nobody will agree on the location of the line.  In fact, people will argue till they're blue in the face about whether the line's over HERE or over THERE. (They can get quite nasty about it, actually.)  Parents who are struggling are not helped by vague, extreme advice.

That's probably why the ABC TV drama 'The Slap', about a 'spoilt' child who is slapped by a non-parental adult at a party, is causing so much debate.

Firecracker kids: walking the right disciplinary line

I don't have a lot of voice today.

I don't have a lot of voice today, because yesterday I decided to spend some time one-to-one with 'Violet'. Violet has her problems. She's a high-energy, LOUD, I'm-over-baby-stuff kid who has been going through a Bolshie stage the whole time I've known her.

Maybe Bolshie is just who she is. It goes with being bright sometimes, and Violet is definitely very clever indeed. She's a wizard at spacial challenges. Her creative work is incredible.

I come into Violet's life frame very sporadically, being a casual worker. Each time I have to re-establish the boundaries with her and work at our relationship, while she tests the fence, and tests the fence, and TESTS the fence of my limits. She does it to all the staff. It's not personal. But as with all children, it's so much easier to deal with difficult behaviours when you have a good relationship with the child.

I'm genuinely fond of Violet; she can be outrageous, but she also radiates an inner light.  If she can harness that energy for good, she will be someone truly outstanding one day. It's not so hard for me to try to build that relationship, because I can see her light despite the Bolshie wrapper. Sometimes just seeing a child's light can be a challenge, I know. I count myself fortunate that I can see that light in Violet; with other difficult kids I've sometimes struggled away in the dark.

Ironically, yesterday Violet was literally testing the fence by climbing it, and had to be manhandled and persuaded away from it before she was over, off and away up the street. Yesterday she used her considerable problem-solving powers to work out that the ladder from the climbing frame could be used to get to the top of the said fence.  Yesterday Violet was a handful.

(Actually, Violet's nearly always a handful.)

She used up my voice, and she used up my energy, but yesterday she also gave me a priceless gift.

The power of music to soothe the troubled child

If you've read my profile, you'll know that I was originally a school music teacher.  I've always done heaps of singing, finger plays, rhythmic chants and body percussion with the children, but lately I've been bringing my guitar in to work.  It's a leap of faith to do that; for a musician, putting their musical instrument in the reach of very small children is like baring their heart in a room full of knives. There's always a risk that something will go very wrong.

So there have to be some pretty strict boundaries when the guitar comes out, and when 'Talon'  and some of his peers are around, adherence to rules is rather random. That's putting it politely. Yes, it was a risk to open the guitar case in that particular company. But I did it, over a few highly structured group times.

The first time, that guitar went back it its case pretty quickly, because it simply caused too much excitement and impulse control was at a premium.  I find that the guitar is actually good for making me set firm boundaries- I can be a bit of a pushover at times- because I really couldn't bear it to be broken.  It was a great tool for teaching the children self-control, because they really wanted to see it and hear it and touch it... but if they didn't sit and wait their turn, it got put away at once.

There's a lesson there for me, too: don't be a pushover! It's not good for the kids!

Eventually we got to the point where the room leader asked me if I'd play guitar in the yard as an interest-based activity. Well, that freaked me a bit. It's one thing to allow your beloved instrument to be in the presence of seated children, but a yard full of screaming, running kids- many of whom have serious behaviour issues?

But I did it. And this is where the magic starts.

No danger money: dealing with violent preschoolers

Meet 'Talon', aged 5. He's had a truly horrendous childhood. It's involved all sorts of abusive parenting and inappropriate modelling. He's the sort of kid who would be instantly labelled as 'violent' or 'aggressive' (see Teacher Tom's splendid post about this) by those who haven't thought about it very hard.

Talon will strike out the moment he's frustrated, and he's big enough to hurt you, even if you're a teacher. And so most teachers (and many of the children) keep a certain amount of distance from him, especially when his fuse has been lit.  But of course teachers need to intervene before he flattens the child who just took 'his' bike- the one he had over there, for when he wanted to ride it again- or the one who has hold of the toy he wants right now. And many of them still try to keep their distance, though fortunately a few of them have discovered the same safe and effective method that I'm about to let you in on.

Because I'm a casual, most other staff members tend to assume that I haven't a clue about Talon. A few weeks ago he was beating up on another child (actually he was about to strangle them with a skipping rope, though I'm sure he had no idea that this would be the result of what he was doing), and when I rushed over to intervene, a few of these staff members saw me and tried to rush over themselves to warn me not to get too close. Talon had landed one blow on me before they got there, but I was expecting that and had braced myself; you don't get danger money for working in childcare, but sometimes you have to expect to get punched if you're doing your job properly.

You could almost hear their brakes squealing as they watched what happened next.

Play-based learning misinterpreted: how a free-for-all approach failed a gifted child

I first met Theo in a centre where play-based learning had been interpreted by the staff as 'let the kids loose all day with all the toys, and hover around looking busy'.  Oh, that's NOT how the director intended it, believe me! But that's pretty much what happened on the floor- a free-for-all.  Structure was at a bare minimum, instructions and direction were endangered species, prepared intentional teaching was well nigh impossible and somewhat frowned upon- staff were directed to acknowledge at all times that 'the children were the teachers' (which is a concept that has much worth if you cut out the words in italics, which strike me as an invitation to staff laziness). 

My introduction to Theo was watching him lift up a toy broom and prepare to beat a much younger child over the head with it. When I shouted his name and told him firmly to STOP from the other end of the room, he was sufficiently surprised by my raised voice to freeze in mid-air before anyone got hurt (and I was able to sprint down the room and relieve him of his weapon). But on many later occasions I didn't catch him in time, and he managed to inflict violence on other children. Theo was an enigma to the regular staff, an inconvenience, a problem. No-one had a clue how to get through to him. No-one liked him- neither his peers nor his carers. Not even me. Yep, he fell into the category of a child for whom I could not feel the love.

Are these two paragraphs related- is this a case of cause and effect? In retrospect I think so, and this is why.

The preschooler who hits- what do you say?

First, let me assure you that the answer to this question is NOT 'we don't hit our friends.'  That response to preschool fisticuffs makes me crazy!

I need you to come on a short mental road trip with me. This is the only way you'll see this one through the child's eyes. Ready? Put down your preconceptions, fasten your seat belt and off we go.

You're driving along the road minding your own business and thinking happily about the day in front of you.  Suddenly a car in the next lane veers towards you, almost causing a crash.

As you veer sideways yourself, the happy mood totally shattered, you direct a rude gesture and several swear words at the other driver.  'Bloody ******* idiot! Get a brain! Learn to drive, you *******!'

At this point your passenger- let's say it's your mother- leans over, pats your arm and says 'Darling, we don't swear at our friends.'

HOW DO YOU FEEL?

Preschoolers whose first response to a problem is violence encounter similar scenarios to this every single day in their childcare settings.  Something happens that wrecks their mood or causes inner conflict, they respond from the gut on the spur of the moment, and the teacher comes out with rote psychobabble as though it's a solution.

There is something deeply wrong with that response, 'we don't hit our friends'.  It worries me so much, and so often, that I feel a need to challenge it.

Three things I wish my parents had taught me...

Time for a little light relief, I think! 

I'm sure I'm not alone if I say that there are things I've learned the hard way in life which I would rather have been warned about in advance.  My parents valued school and environmental education, but perhaps they didn't pass on a lot of the basic life skills I needed.  Here are just a few of the things I think all parents would be wise to teach their children.

Modelling happiness: broken families

In this blog I've stressed the need to be authentic, the need to be respectful and the need to model the behaviour you want your child to copy. It all sounds amazingly easy when you're sitting in a chair reading it. Parenthood in action, however, is a very different experience- especially when the parenting relationship is in crisis.