Reaping the rewards of risk

As I mentioned recently on my Facebook page, I'm in the throes of a major uni assignment on risky play. I have to admit that I'm loving the uni work- not so much because of the course itself (in fact the restrictions of writing in an academic rather than a creative style sometimes drive me a bit nutty), but because of the things it's prompting me to do with the kids.

I chose the topic, 'risky play', myself.  I've got a passion for listening to what the kids want and trying to respond. And in one of my workplaces- my favourite one- risk is on the kids' agenda almost every moment of every day. If they're not trying to climb the fence and escape like Violet, they're on the roof of the shed, or up a tree, or playing Kung Fu Panda games, or crashing the bikes into one another and sprawling on the concrete pretending to be in need of an ambulance.

It's a high-energy demographic, and I love it- kids being kids, fearless and gutsy, the way it used to be in the days when parents and carers weren't so damn precious.  When the media hadn't scared the heck out of everyone by publicising and inflating every sad accident, so we'd assume the world was suddenly a more dangerous place than before.  When the lawyers hadn't encouraged everyone to play the blame game for money.

I suppose it's a bit like stepping back in time.  To me, these kids feel real. They're like the kids from my own childhood, fifty-odd years ago.

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.

Remembering adolescence

Have you ever been asked what you'd do differently if you could live your life all over again?

My answer has always been that I'd pass up the chance to do that, because I would never want to be an adolescent again. Never, not ever. It was just too hard.

And that makes me wonder about parents of adolescents who do nothing but wail about how IMPOSSIBLE teenagers are.

I wonder about their memories.  Have they forgotten what it was like to be neither child nor adult, besieged by hormonal imperatives, weighed down by conflicting expectations from every side?

I wonder about their ability to apply knowledge. Can they not synthesise material from their own adolescence with what their child is going through?

Apparently not, in many cases.

This is what I remember about being an adolescent. This is how I survived teaching adolescent girls for over 20 years, and how come most of them are still speaking to me as adults.

The girls who taught me how to teach

Sometimes when I read back over my past posts, I wonder if I give the impression that I'm a painful know-it-all. I always seem to be giving people hints on how to do things better, or telling of some little triumph of mine, as though I'm some mighty guru.

Of course, from my end, things look a little different. I'm painfully aware of the mistakes I've made along the way while I learned how to teach and how to parent. And I'm also aware that I'm nearing the end of my working life; if I haven't learned a few things by now, well, it's getting close to too late! Not that you ever stop learning, of course. When you stop learning, it's time to die; that's my view.

But it's only fair if, every now and then, I share some of my bad times with you too; and so today I thought I tell you about some of the mistakes I made when I first started out, and how I learned a better way to teach.

Why I won't do Hallowe'en

I've just been reading a great post by Janet Lansbury about how we can help children take ownership of their art by backing off ourselves.  Couldn't agree more.

But it was centred around the American festival of Hallowe'en, and that made me reflect on my strong distaste for that celebration on the last day of October. A lot of people assume that I'm just anti-American, or something.  But that's not it.  Sure, I think that we have lots to celebrate in Australia without adopting other people's festivals, but that's not the real reason I feel uncomfortable about Hallowe'en. 

And it's nothing to do with religion and witches, either.  I'm not that straight-laced.

It's the modelling that worries me.  It's the behavioural undertones, and the hypocrisy of bad behaviour being amusing and acceptable for one day of the year and criminal for the rest. 

Let's take a look at the behaviour that's put up as okay at Hallowe'en, and see how it stands up for the rest of the year.

Reflecting on your children's environment

The word 'environment' is one of those words like 'love'.  It can have so many different meanings depending on context, can't it? Sometimes we can get stuck in a groove of seeing a word like that in only one way. But if we're going to provide children with the best 'right now' and the best ladder to their future, we need to be aware of all the facets of the environment that we provide for them.

Many people think of nature the moment they hear that word 'environment', and so the immediate associations stirred up in their brains will be to do with plants. Animals. Pollution. Maybe Green politics. But the environment isn't just the natural world.

In early childhood education we're always talking about the learning environment.  And too often people assume that when we talk about the environment in that way, we're talking about stuff. Objects. Spaces. Maybe arrangements of those things. But the environment isn't just the play equipment and the way the room is set up.

In parenthood, things seem a little different; we're always talking about the home environment, but often we dwell on people.  Behaviours. Attitudes. Maybe prejudices. But the environment isn't just the norms provided by families.

I hadn't really thought about this until I got one of my uni assignments back the other day, and the marker commented that I had an unusually good understanding of what 'environment' meant.  So I thought I'd share some paragraphs from that assignment with you, in the hope that it helps you to think more deeply about the environment you're providing for your children, and to see everything- 'stuff', nature, spaces, attitudes, people and so on- as an influential contribution to your child's world.. 

(NB: I've cut out my references and professional jargon to make it a bit more reader-friendly!!)

Bedridden but not bored

Play can act as an escape route from the sometimes harsh bonds of reality, but when I contracted rheumatic fever at the age of five and was bedridden for three months, that escape was severely restricted. I was saved by my family environment. My mother, a needlework teacher, had always encouraging me to choose patterns for my clothing from the huge McCall's pattern books and to watch and help her sew them, so I had unusual skills and confidence for my age. 

(Choices, you see.  Choices give a child a feeling of power and control within their environment.  My environment included a sense of agency about things that affected me, like the clothes I wore. And opportunities for involvement in adult 'work' from an early age- that's environment too.  That's a form of respect for a child, if you let them join in.  Do you?)

It was 1961, the genesis of the 'Barbie' craze;  my mother supplied me with a large bag of sewing and knitting equipment to make dolls' clothes. I spent hours experimenting, failing, re-cutting, constructing and decorating. This was quality play and learning; for sustained periods I was focussed on copying real life events and experiences which I had shared in relationship with my mother, engaging in fantasy by designing 'wedding dresses', and using and extending previously learned skills. 

(So there's some 'stuff' in my environment- I was given open-ended materials. But I also had uninterrupted time to be creative.  I also was allowed to fail. I also had a supportive parental relationship. All of that is 'environment'.)

My mother always made optimistic choices. I was trusted with sharp scissors and tiny needles, and this promoted feelings of competence. My mother didn't intervene unless I asked for help, and taught me how to undo mistakes rather than fixing them for me. I made choices about design and was not judged, though interest was expressed in my work. 

(I've still got some of those dolls' clothes I made, you know, and some of them are truly hideous- but nobody ever said 'yuk'.  Interest without judgement is a terribly important part of a safe environment for a child.  And so is trust.)

Being left to my own devices with a wide range of appropriate tools and materials helped to make me a confident, resourceful person. Most importantly, being bedridden but not bored gave me confidence that I could achieve quite ambitious goals by myself despite significant difficulties if I had adequate preparation, a life skill which has contributed much to my success in the classroom as both a student and a teacher.

(So, do you provide an environment that nurtures self-confidence and resourcefulness? How can you do that in your home or your classroom?)

I was allowed to be my own teacher; in adjusting the amount of extra fabric needed to dress a rounded figure, for example, I taught myself advanced three-dimensional geometric concepts. Such self-teaching would not have been as effective if my mother was constantly hovering and correcting; my mother allowed me to learn in a concrete way, helping at times but generally intervening only on request. She provided sensible preparation even beyond the dressmaking skills- how to hold scissors when walking, how to use a thimble- before letting me loose with real tools and materials, so my failures were limited to misjudgments rather than physical accidents. But creatively I was a free agent, and this contributed to a life-long ability to express myself originally.  

(If you're a helicopter parent, that's a huge influence on your child's environment. It's like a dampening cloud over a child's head- they'll always be trying to please you or trying to escape you, instead of discovering who they are and what they can do.  Give guidance- yes- but then give space. And try not to over-guide creative activities- the process, not the product, is what allows a child to find their creative self.)

A natural environment

Outdoor play was scaffolded by my father, a keen naturalist and amateur geologist. Place is a vital ingredient in the construction of personal identity, and so it proved for me. Fishing for yabbies in my grandparents' creek, bushwalking and being introduced to flowers by their botanical and common names, catching and inspecting blue tongued lizards, learning which landforms indicated the presence of alluvial gold before panning for it in the creek- all are vivid memories and integral to my sense of 'being': who I am, and what interests me. 

(Wow, how much variety was there in my physical environment? I got the nature stuff as well as amazing indoor opportunities.  Are you providing variety?  Where else are you comfortable, where you can take them and teach them?)

The intentional teaching by my father played a large part in preparing my brother and me for safe outdoor play. We were then allowed to go to the creek yabbying and building dams in the sand without supervision. Seven- to twelve-year-olds tended to recall outdoor play environments most strongly; certainly my natural play spaces had long-term impact on me, and this 'sense of place' has been an enduring influence on my personal and professional life. I have no fear of the bush to this day; I 'belong' there. 

(Where will your child feel he 'belongs' when he grows up? Where are you allowing her to learn to feel comfortable? Unwrap that cotton wool, or they'll be looking for cotton wool all their lives.)

 Sociocultural influences

We were poor and had few toys, but I was given crayons and paper plus access to a very wide range of literature. I was also taught how to use my mother's typewriter and so was actively playing with words as symbols by age 5, when I wrote my first rhyming and scanning poem. My father was musical, and I sang nursery rhymes with the piano. This rich cultural environment enabled my creativity and gave me a love of both the written word and music which I now strive to pass on to the children I teach. 

(And right now, I've got to say that there is a world of difference between sitting a very small child in front of a typewriter and sitting them in front of a computer. A typewriter, by comparison, is completely open-ended. The potential for creativity, as opposed to the repetition of preordained actions to move down a preordained path, is not in the same ball park. And by the way, while we're thinking about the cultural environment, what sort of music is happening in your home? Is your child watching video clips of adult songs, complete with sexy-wiggle dance moves, or something a little more age appropriate? That's all part of the environment you provide.)

My parents valued education; they were alert to my advanced reading age and provided ability-appropriate rather than age-appropriate books. I see that it was far-sighted of them to recognise my strengths, abilities and knowledge as an individual rather than being guided by pre-ordained age schedules.

(Understanding your child, knowing who they are... that also is part of the environment.  Work at it. I think it's the most important part of the environment.  If you don't know who they are, how can you provide the 'stuff' and the 'spaces' and the 'guidance' they need?)

A hole in the social bucket

Generally, my social experiences involved board and card games with the family, always played with strict rules and great good humour. This taught me self-regulation; games with rules are a path to learning the rules of a community, and this was certainly the case in my family. I still despise cheating and gamesmanship, which were taboo in our home. 

(What's okay in your home or your classroom? What do you allow? What do you normalise?)

By age five I had only one playmate, a neighbourhood peer with a very dominant personality who also owned Barbies. Re-enacting our home experiences through play, we engaged in role-plays and invented scripts with the dolls, sometimes fighting over whose doll would be the 'star'. The fights were brief because I gave in almost immediately, disliking the unpleasantness of my peer vying for influence and having learned no negotiating skills. This experimentation with personal power within our own small world of play taught me the dubious strategy of withdrawing from conflict rather than confronting difficult situations; this mechanism has been problematic for me in my professional life, demonstrating that lessons learned through play are not always positive in nature. With more opportunities for social play with peers, I might have developed a stronger ability to interact more effectively under duress. 

(Yes, it IS important to allow your child to work out their own battles within their social groups- they need to learn negotiating skills.  Don't step in too soon.  But do make sure that they have opportunities to interact with plenty of other children so they can find some like-minded peers.  Otherwise the peer group is likely to be an uncomfortable environment for them to endure all through school, and possibly later in life too.  Ask me- I know!)

So, I wonder if my assignment has helped you to think more broadly about your children's environment?  I hope so.

Where can you push a wall out? 

Where do you need to put up a fence?

Are you strong in the cognitive and emotional environment, but falling into a rut in the physical? Or maybe the other way around?

Is there something you can change to make your children's world a better place?

On being consistent and fair- or not: the stories of Hiroko and Mia

We all know that consistency is terribly important when we're working or living with children.  We all know that you can't have different sets of rules for different days, or for different kids- that's not fair.

(Er... do we?)

I mean, consistency is part of great discipline, isn't it? Your kids have to know what to expect, and they have to get that same response all the time, or they'll keep pushing buttons and testing boundaries.  And they have to believe that you're being fair, not preferring one child over another.

(Oh, really?)

Okay, I'll stop teasing; it IS true, to some extent.  I'll give you that.  But we have to apply common sense.  We have to be a little careful that by being too consistent, we're not being unfair.

(Pardon me, I hear you say??)

Let me explain that oxymoron, before you burst something vital in your grey matter.

Helping your children hear praise and gratitude

Today I want to tell you how I knew I really loved my current partner.  I can say with confidence that it was the first time in my life I'd really loved, rather than being 'in love' or 'in lust', and I think it's worth sharing how I knew that.

You might wonder what that's got to do with childcare. The link is that word 'love'. For many of us, the love for our child is the most intense and unconditional love we'll experience; some parents describe being 'in love' with their new baby. Yet I can see that many parents and carers' loving intentions get lost in the process of trying to fit the 'perfection paradigm'- the perfect amount and method of encouragement, the perfect level of boundaries, the perfect number and type of activities, and so on. 

Relationships can be like that, too.  We can lose the love in a pointless quest for perfection.  Maybe if I share this little story, I can toss a bomb at some habitual behaviours which are totally counterproductive when we really love someone... like our child.

The value of telling our stories

I've spent this morning clearing my head by walking around our beautiful bush property, thinking about the issues that provoked yesterday's clamour. (And yes, I had a good night's sleep, thank you!) As I've said before, it's easy to take an initial position of defensiveness when we're attacked unexpectedly- but it's wise to be self-critical when we cause dissent and take time to examine the value (or otherwise) of what we're doing.

An anonymous angry comment on one of my posts, obviously by a colleague, attacked me for 'gossiping' (presumably this referred to me saying openly to a friend the same things that I've heard others say behind their hand, things that my colleagues admit they're concerned about but are scared to say openly). 

To that, I repeat that some things that impact on the children's welfare need to be brought into the light and discussed freely.  Should I have raised the matters discussed with my superior first? Most would say 'yes'; but as a casual staff member who was aware that I might not have the full story, I felt there was value in ensuring that my view wasn't out of step and based on too small a window of experience  by finding out if another respected colleague shared my opinion.  Is that gossiping? I think not, given that the issues raised had professional impact.

The sad part here is that someone felt impelled to draw attention to themselves by sharing what was a private exchange between colleagues with my boss, before challenging me personally.  That's cowardice.  That's playing games.  That's not about the children's welfare, it's about advancing one's political position.

The same anonymous writer called me unprofessional (an allegation I've dealt with in my previous post) and suggested I'd contravened 'centre policies' by telling some of the anecdotes I've shared with you. I have very strong views on that- views which can be supported by peer-reviewed research. 

And so we come to blogging, and the power of our stories.

Advocacy versus 'professionalism': Aunt Annie pays the price

It's been a bit of a crazy day.

First off I got a call from one of my bosses to say that my services would no longer be required at that centre.  In other words, I was 'sacked' (if a casual worker can indeed be sacked).

The reason given was 'comments made on (my) blog and Facebook'.

(!)

Wow, okay, whatever... somehow I don't think that would wash if I was a permanent staff member, but a casual worker is always vulnerable to snap decisions like that, which cut across our human rights (like free speech).  I didn't argue; there was no point.  She can decide whether to employ me or not on any given day, and the answer is 'not' for my sins.

Yes, I'm okay, thank you- in fact I'm fine, because second cab off the rank today was another wonderful 'window of opportunity' opening up for me, perfectly timed (thank you karma!).  I'm excited about it already.

But I do think the issues of freedom of speech and frankness of opinion are well worth blogging about, because as carers and parents we have a responsibility to be advocates for children- and I want to acknowledge that it can be a dangerous task.  Everything I have written in this blog is written with an intention to be that advocate, but I just got the chop for my trouble.

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.

Breaking the nagging cycle

Most of us have had the experience of telling a child to stop doing something over and over and OVER again.  It can be maddening when we KNOW the child knows that their behaviour is outside the boundaries, but they still keep testing us.

Now, remember that very young children- toddlers and younger- generally haven't developed a sense of right and wrong yet. I'm not talking about them; I'm talking about children who are old enough to have realised that certain behaviours are outside the rules. (This seems to develop somewhere in the 2- to 4-year-old bracket, but it depends quite heavily on individual environmental and developmental factors.)

The most common approach to repeated misbehaviour in this preschooler-and-beyond age group is to keep repeating the boundary message, in the hope that the child will respond. We hope against hope that we won't have to go further- give that threatened punishment, administer a smack, withdraw a privilege, shout- whatever our standard disciplinary approach might be. So we descend to nagging, even though we know from experience that it doesn't work.

My standard line on this is 'if it's not working, stop doing it'.  Let's face it, even adults do stupid/wrong things now and then for fun, whether it's inviting an instant coronary by eating a whole pack of Tim Tams or base-jumping off Mount Rushmore, and having someone tell you repeatedly that it's wrong just makes you irritated and rebellious.

So what else can we do?

The other day some boys in the preschool yard were playing superhero games with sticks. Now, the centre rules demand that sticks be thrown over the fence. These boys have been reminded of the 'no sticks' rule till the teachers are blue in the face. They simply throw the sticks over the fence while you're looking at them, and then find another stick the moment your back is turned.

How did I solve the problem? 

Being a role model: a 24/7 challenge for parents and carers

It's easy to forget that those little eyes are always watching us.  It's even easier to forget that those little ears are always listening to us- especially when children get to the age where they seem to develop selective hearing. (Believe me, selective deafness is about lack of response, not lack of hearing.)

Because I work as a casual at the moment, I've been quite transient in my contact with some groups of children.  This can be a challenge for the children, for the regular staff and for me.  And it also opens up some huge holes in the role modelling by the adults involved in the childcare equation.  Often, adults are downright rude to each other in full view of the children; all that time spent telling the children to be kind to their friends (hmm, you can read what I think about that use of the word 'friends' here), and yet they themselves sometimes treat the other human beings around them with blatant disregard for their feelings and rights.

It seems to me that many of my reflections about those 'holes' also apply to parenting; the way our children's primary carers behave in front of them is crucial to their future behaviour and attitudes. So let's have a look at a few aspects of adult behaviours, through the eyes of the children.

Being 'in the zone' with babies: an accidental 'tummy time' story

Caring for lots of babies at once, as happens in any long day care centre, can be extremely challenging at times. Our ratio in Australia is one carer to a maximum of four babies; all very well in theory, but when one carer is completely involved in (say) cool-bathing a baby who's developed a raging fever and the other is left with up to seven unsettled bubs at once, with three of them crying for their mothers, things can get a little 'interesting'. (Yep, that was my morning today.)

At times it's very hard to feel that you're giving each baby the sort of consideration that he or she deserves. I admit that I'm not a fan of putting very young babies in care, but it's a fact of life in these days of mortgages and financial desperation. It's so important not to let frustration take over your day, and to stay calm even when there's chaos all around you.  Some days you just have to do the best you can, prioritising, moving from baby to baby offering calming words as you put out the most pressing emotional fires.

If you can stay calm, the moment of stress will invariably pass and make way for something better.  I treasure the moments when I can snatch a little time with an individual baby and witness something beautiful- as I did later on in my day today.

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.

Bert, Ernie and homophobia in childcare- is it an issue?

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you've probably already worked out where I stand on discrimination issues. (If not, you need to read this, and this, and maybe even this, and certainly this.)

I aim not only to educate about these issues, which are often accompanied by frenzied media hype, strong opinions and a poor standard of research-backed evidence, but to stand up and shout about them when necessary. Sadly I had to do that last night, when one of my 'favourite' play-based learning pages on Facebook posted some homophobic comments.

Katie bit me

Ah, the child who bites. It's a constant problem in childcare centres. It's a terrible worry for parents.

You can read all you like about biting just being a phase, the result of frustration, an attempt to communicate emotions the child can't deal with... all that doesn't make it easier when a child actually bites you, or when the teacher has to tell you that your child bit someone today.

That is so, SO hard for a parent. And so, SO challenging for a carer.

When the child is nearly 5 years old and that bite can pack a real punch... well, it ups the ante. And 'Katie', who bit me yesterday, is nearly 5. She was in a wild rage, her teeth got into the skin on my wrist, I felt the pressure increase, and just before she jammed her jaw shut...

...I managed to stop her in her tracks.  How on earth did that happen?

It was instinctive for me, what I did. I didn't have time to think about it. But I'm thinking about it now. If your child bites, or you have a biter in your centre, this might be interesting to you- possibly VERY interesting.

A letter to Chris Bowen regarding the 'Malaysian solution'

The following is the text of a letter I wrote to the Australian Minister for Immigration, Chris Bowen, regarding the intention to send newly arrived 'boat people' (illegal immigrants) to Malaysia for 'processing'. These immigrants include unaccompanied children as well as families with children.

Please feel free to use the text of this letter in your own submissions- copyright is waived. There is a link on my Facebook page which will allow you to send your own letter.

*****************************************

Dear Minister,

I have worked with children all my life. The 'Malaysian solution' makes me ashamed ever to have voted for your party and ashamed to be identified as an Australian.

I am not immune to the logic of the idea on paper; I realise that at some level it has been designed as a deterrent to people-smugglers and that this may even work in the longer term. But I cannot and will not accept that the end justifies the means. It is morally reprehensible to sacrifice vulnerable children at the altar of political gain. Face it, Alan Jones et al would immediately find something else to moan about even if this strategy were to make a difference.

And for this momentary- MOMENTARY- political gain, you are prepared to risk the lives and the innocence of small children.

Would you do this to your own children? If you wouldn't, if you cringe at the thought of your own children in the care of the Malaysian government, how do you sleep at night as you inflict this fate on other children?

These children are no less human than yours. They are no less vulnerable than yours. They are no less human than yours. They have faces.  They have smiles. They have tears. They feel pain and they feel fear. They come from a place where their parents decided that paying their life savings and putting their children into a leaky boat was a better option than staying where they were; parents do not take such decisions lightly, and you should not delude yourself that these parents are somehow morally inferior to you. Australia represented hope to these parents, and a better future for their beloved children.

By sending these children to Malaysia, you extinguish both innocence and hope. Shame on you.

Coping with toddlers joyfully

I know, I know. If you've actually GOT a toddler of your own, you're shaking your head with a cynical mouth and saying 'yeah, RIGHT!'

Toddlers can be incredibly trying. I've been reminded of that by the last two weeks. I've been working full-time in a toddlers' room in long day care, and now here it is Saturday and I'm exhausted! Pity the poor mum and dad who don't get weekends away from Toddlerland.

The best I can do is pass on some stories from the last fortnight, to explain why I'm smiling with joy  through my exhaustion, rather than 'shaking my head with a cynical mouth'.

DON'T DO THAT! -how to drive a child crazy with your own fear

I've just been through my photo collection picking out a few pictures of things that I've seen children told NOT to do in various playgrounds where I've worked.  They are all activities that are relatively or completely safe, and activities which I might hover around but always allow- yet I've seen many over-anxious carers (and parents) try to forbid them.

Carers are possibly the worst about this- maybe because of local regulations which are over-restrictive and based on a fear of litigious parents, but more often perhaps because they simply don't want to risk having to fill in an incident report! Nothing to do with the child's learning and long-term wellbeing, really!

Have you stopped a child from doing any of these completely normal activities, which all help their brains to develop competent risk assessment as well as encouraging self-confidence, creativity and motor control?

Stop saving me, you're holding me back!

Have you ever dreamed up an exciting, ambitious plan, only to have someone stop you in your tracks with their own doubts and fears?

If you have, you'll know that it's a truly frustrating experience. You know what you want to do, you've thought it through, you're full of motivation... and then some wet blanket puts out the fire in your heart and makes you doubt yourself.

I see well-meaning childcare workers and parents do that to children every day. And I realise that I've often done it myself.

In fact, every day that I work in childcare I have to consciously stop myself from over-helping and over-saving children.  Here's just one example of how rewarding it can be to control that urge to save a child.

Children's rational fears

Last time I dealt with children's irrational fears, the ones that are not based on logic or reality.  But what do we do when a child has absolutely rational fears, due to some sort of trauma?

It's time to introduce the delightful 'Jack' and 'Jade', fraternal twins who were 23 months old when a tornado struck their tiny town in Northern NSW.  Their mum has agreed that I can tell you their story.

Children's irrational fears

When I was five, I started catching the school bus with the other kids from my block. There were two notable characters at that bus stop most mornings, other than the kids going to school and the odd parent; one was Rastus, my terrible piano teacher's brown kelpie, and the other was Garry.

I guess Garry was around seven or eight, in chronological years, but it was obvious even to us five-year-olds that there was something terribly wrong with him. He couldn't talk, except in gutteral grunts. He didn't go to school like the rest of us and never seemed to be in the company of a parent. Worst of all, he never wore any clothes. He ran around the bus stop stark naked, even on the chilliest winter mornings, grunting and laughing as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

To me, Garry seemed more animal than child. This is important in the context of what happened.

I loved going to school, but both Rastus and Garry made me deeply uncomfortable. They both seemed uncared for and out of control, though I couldn't have put that into those words at that age; I recognised that this was somehow wrong.  I didn't ever mention those feelings to my mother, who would escort me up the street to the bus stop and then usually leave me there with the other kids and whichever mothers were having a friendly gossip today. It was a very safe community in those days.

Why didn't I mention that I felt uncomfortable? I had a great vocabulary, even then. I guess I had always prided myself on being resourceful. I wasn't a whiney child. I probably figured that this was just one of those things I had to deal with on my own.

Have you got a resourceful child?  Ask them what bothers them now and then. They may be carrying something.

So there I was at the bus stop one day, my mother having left to go home, when something truly dreadful happened- something that the most resourceful child on this earth couldn't be expected to cope with.

Bringing music into your children's world- EYLF friendly!

As you'll know if you've read my profile, my original career training was as a kindergarten to Year 12 Music specialist, and I've spent most of my life teaching teenagers. Music was so much part of my life for over 30 years that when I moved to the world of Early Childhood, I brought a lot of it with me without even thinking about it. 

I had to learn a whole new repertoire of songs, of course, and dredge up the songs I could remember from my own and my son's childhood, but with my background it was easy to find ways to incorporate music into the children's days.

So I guess it's time for me to share some of my methods with you. Many of these ideas will work just as well at home as in a care setting; don't be afraid to experiment!

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 limits of our responsibility for abused and neglected children

One of the hardest things for new carers who really do care is understanding that your role stops at the door.

For hours each day, we put these children first and do our absolute utmost to make their day happy and successful.  Many of us put heart and soul into the welfare of the kids in our care. 

But for children, daycare is only one small part of their world.  Each child has a context, a home background over which we have little or no power, even if it's a highly undesirable environment for a child. 

Sure, we can fill in the appropriate forms when there's an 'incident', we can talk diplomatically to the parents, we can call in social workers.  In extreme cases where there's clear evidence of wrongdoing, we can call DoCS and cross our fingers about the result- but when a child comes from an abusive background (and that can mean physical, sexual, emotional or psychological abuse, or simple neglect) we have to realise the boundaries of our influence.  

Coping with criticism of our parenting or care philosophy

We spend so much time observing and thinking about our children, listening to them, analysing what they do... we try so hard; we exhaust ourselves trying to do the best we can.

And then there's that moment when someone questions one of our strategies, or enthusiastically suggests a better way, or straight-out criticises our practice. Maybe something that one of those toxic mothers at the school gate or playgroup said got right under our skin.  Maybe we got flamed in some forum discussion.  Or maybe we just read an article in the news or online that challenged or disproved our views, and we beat up on ourselves. Maybe we're a carer, not a parent, and a colleague or our boss just gave us a drubbing.

How do we protect our confidence in the face of that?  We need our confidence.  Our children need to feel that we're in control, and without confidence in our practices we'll radiate uncertainty.

Play-based road safety activities and a song for preschoolers

The transition to 'big school' is such an important time for our preschoolers! There will be so many changes in their daily routine and we need to prepare them for some of these.

Many children will catch the school bus and cross the road without mum and dad for the first time- and so road safety becomes an urgent issue.  Here are some activities to help prepare your transition group (or your own child at home) for keeping safe around traffic.

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.

Extending children's play, and the joy of red herrings

I did my Diploma in Children's Services as a mature age student, after over 25 years of teaching and interacting with children of all ages.  The day I was inspected at my workplace, my supervisor commented on the effortless way that I extended the children's play.

'That's experience,' she said, smiling knowingly. 'You can't teach that.'

Well, maybe that's true- or maybe it's not. What can I share with mums, dads and carers about extending play?

What we can learn from children

Children fascinate me. I learn from them every day. And I think my favourite thing of all about them is that they usually haven't had their instincts taught out of them- yet. 

Adults, on the other hand- well, we're ever so good at hiding our feelings till everyone around us is confused (and so are we), eating and sleeping based on the clock or social expectations, limiting ourselves through fear of failure, measuring ourselves with the yardsticks of strangers.  And so on. We could learn so much from children, if we allowed ourselves.

Take 'Jamelle', for example, a 3-year-old indigenous girl with a spirit as wild and free as a little wallaby (and I know a fair bit about wallabies, having brought up an orphaned one last year!). To the average observer, she might seem a little behind in her sense of 'belonging' to her classroom; she rarely does as she's told and her emotions have a fuse about as long as my little fingernail. But she has a lot to teach us if we're prepared to shut up, watch and listen.

Stencils are not the Devil Incarnate: dogma and the EYLF

I used to be married to a man who couldn't spell. (What does that have to do with stencils and the EYLF? Plenty. Listen to me.)

It wasn't his fault.  And it wasn't because he was stupid.  In fact, he was a very intelligent man- a specialist physician- but he had fallen victim to educational fashion. 

So how did this happen? Surely there was a problem in his education!

Does your little one walk on their toes?

Thought I'd pop in a link to Roberta's physio site again, as I've often seen young children walking around on their toes all day and most parents are unaware that it can be a problem. Have a look:

toe walking

Notes for Early Childhood Educators: Australian Aboriginal inclusion

I went to a wonderful workshop today run by Bev Grant Lipscombe.  It was full of wise advice on how to understand and teach indigenous children.  I'm just going to pop my notes up here in case any of you would like to read them.

The teachers who changed my life

It was National Teacher Appreciation Day a month ago.  Stop laughing, you Australians.

No, my friends in the US, we don't have anything like that over here, and it's time we did.  So here's my offering to Great Teachers I Have Known.

What we want for our children- and is the EYLF the answer?

I came across an absolutely brilliant list of 10 things another blogger wants for today's children, here:

10 things I want for today's kids

It reflects so much of what I believe about childhood.  And I feel a need to say more about a few of Grass Stain Guru's points, some of which I've addressed in my own posts in the past and some of which tap into my reservations about Australia's new national curriculum, the EYLF.

I hate preschool rest time! -an alternative system for courageous carers

One of the things I really loved about being a preschool room leader was being able to stamp out the compulsory 'rest on a bed' after lunch. 

And one of the greatest frustrations of being a casual worker these days is having to conform to the routine of each centre, which invariably means telling some 4- and 5-year-old children (and some even younger) who really aren't tired that they have to lie on their beds for a certain length of time.  And them making them comply.

To me, insisting that a young child lies down and stays still and unoccupied when they're not tired- accompanied by the inevitable threats, pleading, raised voices, bribes, lies and confrontations when they won't comply- is a recipe for disaster.  In some cases, it's completely disrespectful and in breach of the rights of the child (as laid down by the United Nations).

Does that shock you- that carers threaten, bribe and lie to children? It shocks me. I can't do it.  So why is it such common practice?

And yes, it IS common practice.  Here are a few anecdotes from 'rest times I have seen'.

Whistle-blowing and parent awareness in childcare

This morning I have had a good old cry.  Sometimes the frustration I feel at seeing bad practice with supposedly good intentions is overwhelming. Stamping out really bad practice is, as I've discovered in many years of blowing whistles, a little harder than just reporting breaches of regulations.

And so at risk of making your blood run cold if you have a child who's cared for by others, I feel a need to vent about some bad practice I've seen over the years and what happened in a couple pof cases when I tried to change things for the better.  And in the interests of you being able to sleep at night, I'll also volunteer some ideas on signs that your child's centre might be engaging in poor practices.

Literacy, little boys and fairy tales

There are some great conversations happening on the 'We Teach' forums about getting boys to read- eg here Literacy for boys.  Today a related story turned up in the SMH- Tell teenagers stories and they'll read - which is really worth a look if you're interested in motivating teenagers about anything at all.

It got me thinking about the energetic little 4- and 5-year-old boys I read to; I'm talking about those little boys who love pretending to be superheroes, wrestling with each other, climbing trees, riding bikes... the ones who have trouble sitting still for long enough to eat their lunch, let alone long enough to hear a whole story.  I thought I'd share a few specific tips for engaging this group in story time, because since I've realised what catches their interest, I've never had trouble getting them to sit and listen.

The value of taking tantrums seriously

Lately I've been doing a bit of 'homework' on Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD), as I'm working with some children who've been diagnosed with a variety of conditions within that range.

One piece of advice that stood out was that when children with Asperger's Syndrome show extreme distress over some seemingly small and unimportant matter, their concern should be taken seriously- even if acting on it seems silly to you- as their anxiety is real and is based on actual physical or psychological discomfort. Yes, it can physically hurt when they are forced to look you in the eye. Yes, a change in their routine can cause extreme anxiety. And so forth.

Yesterday I used this information to deal with a little girl's meltdown over a small dirty mark on her clothes. 'Bree' had tried to remove the mark by wetting half her sleeve on a freezing cold morning, and another carer had immediately sent her inside to change- at which point the hysterical crying, screaming and thrashing started. I was handed a package of loud and violent 4-year-old misery to deal with, complete with stern directions to make her put on a dry top.

Yes, Bree has Asperger's. But as I wrestled with her specific issue using my new-found knowledge, I started wondering if this way of coping with a small child's distress was really so ASD-specific, or whether it might be useful to keep in mind for all children who seem to be making a mountain out of a molehill.

This is not to downgrade the relevance and importance of the information to the welfare of children with ASD- not at all- but I found much wisdom in the advice which could be transferred to general parenting and benefit all children.

Has your child ever had a ridiculous tantrum over, say, a minor clothing issue, or the fact that you broke their block building, or an item they aren't allowed to take with them when you go out, or some other seeming non-issue (to adults)? How did you deal with it?

Let's do a bit of a breakdown of Bree's problem and see if we can use an ASD strategy to help us deal with out-of-control neurotypical children too.

Thoughts on Mothers' Day

As my Facebook page fills up with my friends' urgings to celebrate my mother, the TV shouts at me to buy a gift for my mother and the junk mail in my letterbox splatters images of mothers all over my consciousness, I've started thinking about children who don't have a mother and how they (and their dads) deal with Mothers' Day. And of course there's the flip side- mums who've lost their partner and children who've lost their father, and who have to deal with that as Fathers' Day approaches, complete with school craft projects and gift stalls and morning teas and card-making.

I'm thinking like that, of course, because all this Mothers' Day saturation still makes me wince- and it's nearly 25 years since my mother died.

So, how do teachers make sure they don't bruise feelings through their programming at this time of year? And how do parents who've lost a partner- whether to death or divorce- ensure that their children don't feel lost and miserable at these times of year?

Measuring excellence in your child's teachers

There's a lot of hoo-ha going on in the press at present about Julia Gillard's intention to introduce financial rewards for excellence in teaching.  The main topic of debate seems to be how to measure excellence with any sort of accuracy.  Parents are constantly interested in the standard of their child's teachers, too, but the yardsticks they use are many and varied.

So for what it's worth, here are my views on getting a clear impression of a teacher's performance, along with some personal anecdotes about teachers I have known- excellent, and not-so-excellent!

The preschooler as author: first steps in creative literacy

Today my group of six 4-year-old preschoolers made up their first story. They looked at me in complete amazement (and to be honest a fair amount of disinterest) when I told them what we were going to do today- but 20 minutes later we had a story up on the wall, and they were shouting 'Let's do another one!'  with great excitement.

It's not the first time I've had this reaction to such a seemingly advanced activity with completely normal (ie not necessarily gifted) 4-year-olds. Yes, the story had a beginning, a middle and an end, it made pretty good sense, and the ideas were all from the children.  The only tricks to achieving a similar result with your own group of young children are in the preparation and the timing of any subtle 'nudging'.

So here's a user guide to starting story-writing with little kids.

What will your kids' childhood memories be?

Have you ever wondered what enduring images are tucked away in your children's heads?

Our view of what our children might remember isn't always accurate- it's coloured by our own emotions and priorities. Think back to your own childhood.  What emerges first from the mist? And do you think your own parents would have been able to guess what you remembered?

Putting ourselves 'in the zone' of childhood like this helps us to see our children's point of view. It's so easy to forget what it's like to be a child.  We can learn from what we ourselves remember. Here are some of my childhood memories, and what I've learned about children from those memorable moments.

How do you handle PARENTS?

I started writing this blog because my friends kept emailing me and asking for advice about their kids.  I'd spend a lot of time compiling the best answer I could, and then wish I could share my thoughts with other parents who might be asking the same question.

The last request, posted at the end of my entry on my pregnancy by Nisaba, was a difficult one, and it touches on something that affects us all at one time or another unless we're living in complete isolation from the rest of the world. We've all felt the helplessness of seeing other people's children suffer due to some behaviour by the parent which could (or, in your opinion SHOULD) have been avoided.

The answer I wanted to give was complex enough to warrant a separate column; Nisaba was asking me what to do when you see poor parenting happening in front of your eyes and that parent is a friend of yours- what to do when you want to help that friend to do better, but without offending them.

Here's an abridged version of Nisaba's question, to save you flicking back and forth between pages.

Stop the pregnancy, I want to get off!

Parenting forums are a hotbed of emotion, and divided along party lines.  There are the SAHMs (stay at home mums), the working mums, the desperately TTC (trying to conceive), and so forth.  But these mums do share one attitude: they are almost exclusively pro-baby.

Heaven help the poor woman who falls pregnant and then gets stage fright. The forums don't offer a lot of comfort and companionship. God forbid that you should post such a thing and have it read by a TTC mum.

But really, is resenting one's pregnancy so rare? Or is it just that talking about it has become taboo, in this age of increasing fertility problems?

I'll fess up. I'm one of those mums who got cold feet.  Here's my pregnancy story... because maybe you're hating being pregnant, and shocked by the thought of the changes it will bring, and you think you're the only person in the world who's ever felt like that. And that maybe you're some sort of monster.

Teaching your children life skills

A few weeks ago, my next door neighbour 'John' had a massive heart attack.  He's now at home recovering from major heart surgery and is completely unable to do the basic things that are required when you live in the bush as we do- chopping firewood, mowing the large lawns, starting the generator to top up the solar system batteries in overcast weather, and so on.

His 19-year-old son 'Danny' still lives at home, and we assumed that Danny would be able to pick up the slack and support his father while he recuperates.  But John admitted to us that he has always done these things himself.  It was easier and quicker that way.  Now he sorely regrets not teaching Danny the life skills for the way of life they've chosen, and is relying on my partner to show Danny the basics of operating a chain saw safely.

What life skills have you taught your children? Or, like John, have you always done everything yourself because it was quicker, safer, easier?

An insight into a mother-daughter relationship

As I've mentioned before in this blog, I feel very privileged to have had great mothering myself.  I was going through the files on some old CD ROMs today and I came across the eulogy I wrote for my mother many years after she died.  (Yes, I know- eulogies are usually written for the funeral; that's another story, and a story which is much more about my very strange relationship with my father, who I suspect was never quite the same after World War II.  I had to wait 16 years after her death to farewell my mother in my own way.) 

As I read the eulogy through, I thought it was a pretty fine portrait of what good mothering can look like.  And so it occurred to me that other mothers might like to read it. 

Apart from the many insights into her mothering technique- what she worried about, what she laughed off, how she approached day-to-day life, how she dealt with frustration and marital blues- the story of my mother through her child's eyes is a fascinating glimpse of lower middle class children's lives in the 50's and 60's. There was never enough money, but somehow she made it work. We certainly didn't get given every new gadget on the market at whim. That seems to have been an advantage when it comes to the richness of our inner lives as children and as adults. And she was a working mother from the time I went to school, at a time when it was something of an oddity.

So I suspect there's much to be learnt from this short history of my mother's life.  Here it is, slightly edited to protect others' privacy.

Teacher-bashers: the dangers of over-supporting your children

On the very last day that I taught as a full-time secondary teacher, a Year 7 boy waited till everyone else except his two best buddies had left the room, walked up to me and slapped me in the face.  I had given him absolutely no reason to do so; he did it because he could, no doubt to build up his profile to his mates. 

He had no fear of retribution whatsoever.  He knew that if I complained to the principal, he would at worst be sent to the school counsellor- who would then, in the ultimate example of teacher-bashing, call me in and tell me that it was somehow 'my fault' for not understanding this child's motivation and needs.  The child knew it, and I knew it. 

I put that incident down to the universe confirming my decision to leave the secondary system, and walked away.  Ultimately, this school was so afraid of telling parents the truth about their children's faults and problems that it was prepared to allow the children to get away with assault, disguising the truth of the situation in a thick cloak of 'support and understanding'.

I'm not alone in having this sort of experience, as recent statistics on teacher stress (as detailed in today's Sydney Morning Herald) show.  Teachers crushed by expectations  I'm not the only passionate, enthusiastic teacher who has been lost to teaching due to the system's failure to balance the equation of teachers' and students' rights, to protect staff from abuse.

Sadly, blaming the teacher for everything that goes wrong in a classroom is not confined to the school administration; it's become a blood sport amongst parents seeking easy, comfortable answers to their child's problems.  I have been insulted, ridiculed and verbally attacked, both face-to-face and online, by everyone from acquaintances to total strangers- sometimes for merely being a teacher, and sometimes for suggesting uncomfortable answers which are, in my view, better answers.

But what effect does this sort of vicious attitude to teachers have on the children?

On not being a Wicked Stepmother

At least two of my friends are suffering from a bad case of Wicked Stepmother syndrome at the moment.  Loving their partner means trying to welcome his children from a previous relationship, and despite their best efforts, the children are being spiky and difficult.

These new step-mums are trying, really they are.  But I think that of all the difficult parenting gigs that are out there, becoming a stepmother to children who are no longer babes in arms can be one of the most challenging.

New step-mums are up against so many obstacles, and they have such a lot of learning to do.  Here are some of the questions to which they have to seek answers, in the face of sometimes daunting hostility.

Toxic Mothers

Lately I've been visiting a few internet parenting forums to see what topics might be of particular interest to my readers here.  Of course I've dropped a few comments into the threads along the way, with my usual good intent, and I've been amazed by some of the volatile (and sometimes downright offensive) reactions I've received to some very mildly worded input from me.

It got me thinking about how hard many young (and not-so-young) mothers, especially first-time mums, find it to deal with the Toxic Mother.  Maybe it's time to talk about that.

So here's a helpful guide to identifying some of the species of Toxic Mother, which might help you to avoid them.  There's no point arguing with them.  Steer clear of them.

New childcare legislation: prejudice against our own culture?

Wow, the world really is going to hell in a handcart.  The latest news from the government of this fine country of Australia is that as of next year, childcare workers can be personally fined for making children take part in Christmas and Easter traditions if it's 'not appropriate for their culture'.

Well, hello.  As teachers who programme the year's activities, we are required to provide a range of 'inclusive' activities to ensure that we address the cultural needs of every child from every background- except those of white and Western descent.  I am the first to believe that it's necessary to help children from other cultures, including indigenous culture, feel at home in our centres- see my postings on aboriginal inclusion and using a child's home language just for starters- but what about children from our own culture?  Are they not also entitled to be exposed to the traditions and symbols of their own society?

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.

Naming your baby: it's not about you!

My son went to school with a boy named Richard Head.  If you can't see a problem with that choice of name, you'd better stop reading now, because there's no hope for you and your poor baby may well end up with a name that becomes a life-long burden.

If, on the other hand, you winced or had a guilty giggle at the very thought of a child called Dick Head, read on...

Moving house with children

Have you ever had one of those crazy nightmares where you found yourself in a strange place that was full of people and items you recognised, but thrown together in a peculiar way or weirdly altered by your subconscious?  Or perhaps in your dream you started out in a room that you recognised, but then stepped outside the door and discovered a completely alien environment.

If you have had one of those dreams, I'm sure you'd agree that the effect is horribly unsettling. Yet that's what parents often inflict on their children in real life.  It's called 'moving house'.

Anger management for young children

A few years ago I had a four-year-old in my room- let's call him Bailey- who had a pretty woeful family background.  His mum and dad fought violently and constantly, splitting up and reuniting on an almost weekly basis.

Bailey could be the most affectionate and delightful child, but he could also be a holy terror.  His parents had modelled a very clear example of how to deal with problems: shout, scream, and then hit. In his experience, violence was a first-resort coping mechanism which had few down-sides, because after a short while all would be forgiven.

Naturally, this caused a few problems in the preschool domain, because oddly enough the other children didn't react the same way to being hit.  They tended to hit back, complain to the teacher (which resulted in truly annoying time-out, which Bailey didn't really understand- that wasn't what happened at home!!) or cry and hold grudges against him.  Bailey would cheerfully say sorry- he saw that all the time at his house, and it had always worked- but of course he never changed his ways.  Controlling his anger wasn't something that had ever been modelled to him.

By the time I left that job, I had made Bailey aware of the problem in his dispute resolution process and he was, with prompting, able to restrain himself from hitting the other children and deal with his anger in a more socially acceptable way.  Here's the method I used.

Teaching children to think for themselves: subject choice in the secondary school

When I was teaching high school I worked in an extremely selective and highly academic environment.  I found there were two kinds of students in my highly 'subjective' humanities field of Music.

There were the ones who wanted be given appropriate tools and stimulated to explore their own capacity for thought, then draw their own conclusions about a question and work out a way to support their argument with facts. 

And then there were the ones who wanted you to give them the answer, so they could learn it off by heart and regurgitate it in the exam. Invariably, the latter students had parents who had decided that paying private school fees gave them a right to their children being spoon-fed the correct answers for everything, which would (in their minds) inevitably lead to the high-ranking pass in the final exams which they had paid for.

No prizes for guessing which learning strategy results in the more productive member of a workplace, not to mention the most likely citizen of Planet Earth to help us solve our very real problems.  The reluctance and inability of some people to work with joy and self-belief within a grey area is, I find, extremely worrying.

What is your feeling on this?  If you enrol your child in an expensive school, do you think you've purchased a pass mark at day one?  Do you value subjects with clear right-and-wrong answers, like  maths, above subjects which involve some degree of informed choice in the response?  Do you actively steer your teenager away from subject choices which involve original thought?

Or do you look at secondary schooling as an opportunity for your child to learn to think for themselves, in the hope that this will lead to success? 

The power of a child's home language

Way back when I was learning to be a high school music teacher, I remember feeling incredibly irritated by having to learn songs in foreign languages (including one Aboriginal song which was never even translated for us by the tutor).  I honestly couldn't see the point of the exercise.  It wasn't that I was bad at languages- in fact I was brought up with a French-speaking grandmother, and I studied three languages at high school. I just couldn't see that singing in other languages was meaningful or useful as a teaching tool- it seemed to detract from the study and enjoyment of the music itself.

Back then, the likelihood of striking a genuinely multicultural classroom was much lower.  We were taught ethnomusicology (the study of other cultures' music) as an academic discipline, not as anything that related to our ability to connect with the children.

Come to think of it, I don't think connecting with the children got a look in at all- teaching was an intellectual process for my lecturers, and the idea of trying to touch the children's hearts with music as a learning tool was a radical concept.  Their view, I think, was that we needed to sing in other languages in order to nurture the future opera singers we met in our classrooms.  (As if.)

These days, though, I'd like to go back and bang my old lecturers' heads together, and ask them why on earth they didn't explain how important a working understanding of the language and music of other cultures could be in the classroom, on a human level. And last week I had cause to be rapt that I learnt that Aboriginal song- here's why.

Prejudice against gifted kids, pressure on carers: the dangers of dumbing down your communication

There are many moments when I despair for our children's welfare at the hands of carers who genuinely  think they're doing the right thing.

Carers who do actually care- rather than just turning up, taking their money and going home- tend to be passionate people.  Sadly, thanks to the appalling wages offered in child care, they're not always particularly well-educated or widely experienced people.  Passion and selective ignorance can be a volatile combination- a little knowledge is indeed a dangerous thing.

I came across just such a combination this week, and I can see that I'm going to have a hard time explaining to at least one group of passionate (but narrowly experienced and educated) carers that they're about to do a grave disservice to the bright and gifted children in their room.  It's unintentional prejudice, but it's prejudice just the same.

Children who sue their parents: the dangers of over-permissive parenting

This morning over breakfast a friend told us a true story of the child of one of his acquaintances, who successfully sued his parents not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES to force them to pay for his university education. 

The parents refused on the first occasion because this very same child had defaulted on a car loan, for which the parents had stood as guarantors; understandably they were reluctant to fork out more cash to a child with no sense of responsibility.  The court decided otherwise, and out came the wallet to pay all the considerable up-front fees and set-up costs.

The child- not a child at all really, except in the eyes of the court- attended uni for only a few months before deciding it was all too hard and giving up.  (And no, there are no refunds.)

At 22, he ran the same scam again, won the case again, and again lasted only a few months at uni before defaulting.

At 28, he repeated the whole scenario, won the case for a third time, and yet again failed to last the distance- by which time the parents (financially speaking) had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana skin.

What outrages you most about this tale?

The myth of the perfect parent/carer

One of the easiest traps I could fall into when writing this blog is to make parenting sound easy.

I am NOT here to make you feel inadequate.  Ladies and gents, parenting is NOT easy.  And carers, looking after other people's kids is NOT easy.  It's full of split-second decisions that you have to make when you're tired, distracted and irritated, when your own relationship with your partner or your self-image or your financial situation might be imploding, when you're surrounded by conflicting 'good advice', ridiculous rules of the centre, myriad unrealistic expectations... it's sometimes like parenting in the jungle, with a hungry tiger in every tree.

Carers are usually trained in everything except what they really need to know- HOW to form a relationship with each member of a disparate group of kids- and parents are no better off.  Nobody offers you training in parenting your particular child BEFORE you take the plunge (how could they? -your child will be unique).  On the contrary, there's a myth out there that it'll all fall into place due to your natural instincts.  After all, we're all here on this planet to reproduce, aren't we?  It's natural!

Bollocks to that.  'Natural' my *rse.

Let me give you an example that has stuck in my brain for the last 26 years.

Physical challenge versus physical safety: the dangers of boring an active child to death

Yesterday I watched a 3-year-old indigenous boy- let's call him Jimmy- climb a tree in the preschool yard with the speed and skill of a cheeky little monkey.  He climbed far higher than any of the staff would have imagined a small child could, and put the staff into an unexpected dilemma.

We realised immediately that the tree was close enough to the fence to allow Jimmy to jump over and 'escape' if he chose, not to mention that he had a good chance of breaking a bone or two if he fell. It wasn't a danger we'd foreseen, because it simply hadn't occurred to us that any of the children (let alone a 3-year-old) could climb that high on a tree which appeared to have minimal footholds.  Before we could reach the tree and 'rescue' Jimmy, he made a decision and simply jumped back into the yard from a height of nearly two metres, landing safely with a slight roll like an expert.

He probably was an expert.  In my experience, most indigenous parents are still happy to let their children experience the highs and lows of 'normal' risky childhood behaviour like climbing trees, and the odd broken bone as a result doesn't phase them particularly.  There was a time when most parents felt like that.

Where do you stand? What's your reaction to that story, and what would you do if you were a carer or the parent of that child?

Are our kids getting ruder?

My mother had an amazing ability to freeze the atmosphere instantly when she disapproved of something.  Heaven help me if I should fail to say please, thank you or excuse me; she never needed to punish me for such omissions, because my fear of that Kelvinator look was enough to jog my memory before I opened my mouth.

Add to that the fact that she always demonstrated perfect manners herself, and there was never any question that her children would grow up to be ill-mannered little thugs. She was an awesome mother, and I was hell-bent on pleasing her.

Perhaps my upbringing wasn't completely typical, but I do know that back then, both my teachers and my friends'  parents had a low tolerance for other people's children who forgot their manners.  And they didn't sit and stew, either- they had no hesitation in correcting such children quite firmly. 

Have things really changed so much these days?  Why are parents and teachers complaining about children's manners, or lack thereof? And why do parents feel less free to correct or comment on other people's children when they behave appallingly?

Maybe it's as simple as the constant stress of being a working parent, being all things to all people, torn in too many directions at once.  We forget to teach manners, or just don't have time.  Maybe our own manners have been swept away by the 21st century's pace and problems. 

And maybe we're too scared of the prospect of conflict with other parents to open our mouths when someone else's child is rude; certainly there seems to be a much greater range in parenting styles than was once the case, and convictions about parenting are deeply held and defended.

Anyway, let's be proactive- what can we do to make sure our own children have good manners, and how can we encourage other people's children to treat us with respect too?

Mat time puppet show script: Cleaning Mr Crocodile's teeth

This script will work with any cute puppet whose mouth opens and shows teeth, but I've found a crocodile the most engaging with preschoolers. Some toddlers find him a bit scary, so you might like to choose a different animal puppet.

A few hints for using puppets to teach skills

Puppets are a fantastic medium for teaching children in a non-threatening, non-confrontational way. A teacher can be stern with a puppet who has 'done the wrong thing', and tell the puppet very firmly why that was the wrong thing... and a little child who's just done exactly that wrong thing will get the message, without feeling so confronted that they burst into tears. You can let the puppets demonstrate new skills, and ask the children to help them- it's much less scary to try something new with a cute puppet.

What makes a parent resilient?

One of my friends posted a link on Facebook to a list of tips for making your child more resilient.  The tips are great- you can find them at

resilient kids

Another mum commented that what she really needed was a list of tips to make HER more resilient! So what the heck- here are my top ten tips for parental resilience.

Focus at mat time, plus a funny handwashing song

Today I walked into a preschool I'd never been to before.  I asked the staff my usual questions about the kids- how old the children were and what their names were, who had special needs, who would need help to focus at mat time and so on.  I was told that mat time was something of a problem, as several children simply wouldn't sit still and ran around the room, distracting all the others, and that the staff were wondering how best to deal with this.

By the time 'mat time' actually happened a couple of hours later, I'd done some pretty intensive preparation by learning all the children's names and trying to form some basic relationships, particularly with the children who had been identified as needy or 'difficult'- and just as well, because I ended up running that mat time by myself.

How did I form relationships with 18 kids I didn't know in a few hours? 

A tidy room versus creative chaos

I have to admit that I'm not a naturally tidy person. (If you could see the desk I'm writing at, you'd know what I mean by that!!) To me, the mess that surrounds me is a living, creative thing (and no, I'm not referring to mould cultures!)- an archaeological layering of yesterday's ideas and today's inspirations, last year's study notes and last week's topic lists. I can usually put my hand on what I want right now.

But when I realise that I've lost a month's worth of bills under there somewhere and the late charges are mounting, I start to get stressed, cranky and lethargic all at once. It's time to stop creating, overcome the apathy and have a tidy-up session. It's a balancing act which I'm still working on.

The same balancing act of breathless creativity and overwhelmed non-coping applies to your small children, and your attitude to the often appalling mess surrounding them when they play helps to determine what sort of learning they are allowed to do. 

 

A prejudice-busting story for Valentine's Day

I've been asked to write a kids' story for Valentine's Day that's more inclusive than the usual boy-meets-girl style.... so here it is.  Feel free to copy, print and read to your kids.  And thanks to the brilliant free site http://classroomclipart.com for the ready-made illustrations.

 

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.

Fighting with your ex- a child's view

I'm not very good at ending relationships. Most of us aren't. I know what it is to feel deeply hurt, disappointed, broken-hearted, emotionally bruised, what it's like to have my innermost hopes, my self-esteem and my sense of justice trampled on. I know that both parties will usually feel equally overpowering emotions. I also know how easily these feelings translate into a red-hot, uncontrolled boil-over when you see each other.



Well, red-hot rage might be thoroughly understandable in those circumstances, but when there are children in the line of fire be very careful. It's so tempting to mentally enlist them into your army, based only on your own anger and hurt. It's way too easy to misinterpret what they say and do on the home battlefield when you have a personal agenda.



Let me tell you a true story from my life. Call it a cautionary tale.