tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51892207587683002952024-03-09T05:33:28.690+10:00Aunt Annie's ChildcareAdvice and observations from a qualified carer and educator to help parents and childcare professionals maintain a loving, respectful relationship with their children.Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.comBlogger182125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-30454454066157625212014-08-09T13:22:00.001+10:002014-08-09T13:22:16.590+10:00Growing good men and competent women, part 2: Making kids behave<i>This is the second part of a series about the long-term consequences of our parenting decisions. You can read the first part here: <a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2014/08/growing-good-men-and-competent-women.html">The problem with pink and blue</a></i><br />
<br />
Everybody's in such a hurry.<br />
<br />
A hurry to get everyone up and dressed and fed. A hurry to get to work. A hurry to get home, get the kids fed, bathed, to sleep.<br />
<br />
A hurry to turn those kids into polite, caring, clever, well-educated,<i> successful </i>adults.<br />
<br />
Here is the news:<br />
<br />
IT TAKES AS LONG AS IT TAKES.<br />
<br />
That is what my partner used to say to me when I owned a little restaurant, and I had orders coming out of my ears and deadlines everywhere I turned and five things on the stove and six in the oven and ten more to prepare NOW without letting everything burn.<br />
<br />
<i>It takes as long as it takes.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
That always helped me, because I was often trying to do the unreasonable, and sometimes the impossible. And it wasn't a national disaster if someone had to wait another ten minutes for their food, if that food was delicious. Some things can't be hurried if you want them to turn out well. And growing good adults is one of them.<br />
<br />
Breathe. Slow down. Lower the bar a little. Remember love, and laughter, and respect? <i>Those</i> are the ways to 'make kids behave'. Trying to rush the process is a recipe for disaster.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8g47vRxRqy8/U-WRfCqxbpI/AAAAAAAAD-I/ex79pAvlXYk/s1600/Captured+Videos7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8g47vRxRqy8/U-WRfCqxbpI/AAAAAAAAD-I/ex79pAvlXYk/s1600/Captured+Videos7.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't 'make them' clean up. I included them in the whole process, and <br />modelled cooking and cleaning up for days beforehand.</td></tr>
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**********************<br />
<br />
Here's what happens when we try to hurry our children into being behavioural or intellectual adults.<br />
<u><br /></u>
<b><u>Manners</u></b><br />
<br />
When we try to make them polite in a hurry, <i>we forget to be polite to them</i>. We model blind obedience. "Say sorry/thank you/please because I told you to. Not because you feel it in your heart. Stop listening to what you feel, and do as I say!"<br />
<br />
We might not say those words... but we don't need to; the message is clear.<br />
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That's dehumanising. It leaves no room for what the child is feeling or thinking themselves. Good manners can only be taught by modelling over a long, long time. If you want well-mannered children, be well-mannered yourself- to them and to others.<br />
<br />
And <i>talk </i>to your children about why <i>you </i>want to say thank you to someone for the flowers, the gift, the gesture that took up their time. "I'm going to ring up Marie and say <i>thank you</i> for the flowers, because they're making me feel happy inside and I want her to know that so she feels happy inside too."<br />
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<i>Talk</i> to your children about why you're going to say sorry to their dad. "I got really angry this morning and yelled at Daddy. I think I hurt his feelings, so I'm going to say sorry."<br />
<br />
Those sorts of manners are catching. This is what I mean by a respectful attitude to your children. You're not kow-towing to their every whim- that's not respect!- and you're not treating them as though they know more than you- that's not realistic. What you're doing is <b>believing</b> they can understand what's going on, if you take the time to explain it in simple language. You're <b>including</b> them in the emotional dynamics of your life. You're being<b> truthful</b> and <b>open</b>. Truth and openness breeds truth and openness. Manners breed manners- good or bad.<br />
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As for saying sorry<i> because I told you to</i>... that just breeds insincerity.<br />
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<b><u>Boundaries</u></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Children love pushing boundaries, don't they? It's what they're programmed to do. They need to find the edges of acceptable behaviour as part of their emotional development.<br />
<br />
That's why being <b>consistent</b> is so important. That's why learning to endure a tantrum is so important. You can't be in a hurry! It takes time (and hideously demanding amounts of patience).<br />
<br />
If you say 'no' to a lollypop at the supermarket checkout for five minutes while your child whines... and then<i> give in</i> to stop the whining because you just can't stand it for one more MOMENT, you can be certain that your child will start<i> exactly</i> the same performance next time round and drive you to the edge of crazy all over again. You moved the boundary! If you want them to find the edges, keep those edges still!<br />
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When they say 'BUT I WANNA LOLLY! for the fifteenth time, you say 'Asked and answered' for the fifteenth time. When they lie in the aisle screaming, you stand there saying calmly 'You don't like my answer. You're angry and sad. Let me know when you feel better.' Aaaaaand breathe. Aaaaaaaand smile at the rude people who stare or make a comment, and say 'I'm just waiting this one out. Next time she/he'll understand better that <i>no</i> means <i>no</i>.'<br />
<br />
And <b>NO, you don't smack them</b> to '<i>make them behave</i>' or '<i>give them something to cry about</i>'. Not if you want to grow a good man, or a competent woman.<br />
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Why not smack? Because then you're teaching them that you can control other people with pain and fear.<br />
<br />
Think about that.<br />
<br />
<b>You can control other people with pain and fear.</b><br />
<br />
That's what smacking teaches. That's what you're doing to your child. Do you want to be part of that? Do you want to teach that lesson?<br />
<br />
When your child tries to do that to a smaller child at school, are you ready to take responsibility?<br />
<br />
I didn't think so.<br />
<br />
Don't be in a hurry. Smacking's a short cut to better behaviour<i> in that moment</i>. In the longer term, it teaches <i>much </i>more undesirable behaviour.<br />
<br />
<b><u>But what about when I really <i>have</i> to be in a hurry?</u></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Yes, I've been there. I've had a child who refused to get out of his pyjamas when it was time for us to leave the house so I could get to work on time, as the sole breadwinner. I'm not particularly proud of how I handled it; I bundled him into the car in his PJs, threw his clothes at him and said "You can go to school in your pyjamas or you can get dressed before we get there."<br />
<br />
Hmm.<br />
<br />
If I had my time over again, I would cut out the part about throwing his clothes at him. That was me losing my temper. And I wouldn't suggest he get dressed while the car was moving. That was me, stressed beyond caring.<br />
<br />
And I'd give the choices before I did the action. "Do you want to go to school in your PJs? Or do you want me to put you in the car in your PJs and take your clothes, so you can get dressed before you get out of the car?" And<i> then</i> follow through.<br />
<br />
But five minutes earlier, I'd say "In five minutes we are getting in the car whether or not you are dressed. Do you want to dress yourself or do you need me to help you?"<br />
<br />
See, there are lots of more respectful options. In an ideal world we'd remember them all when we needed them. I know we don't. I've been there.<br />
<br />
Try to <b>remember to give choices, but only realistic ones</b>. Being late for work wasn't a choice for me. The choices I needed to present were 'get ready by yourself' or 'I will help you get ready'.<br />
<br />
Sigh. Never mind. I don't think he was scarred for life by that one incident. Growing men and women is a long-term project. Don't beat yourself up too much if you screw up now and then!<br />
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Oh, and <b>when you do screw up, be honest</b>. Say sorry. Talk about what went wrong later, and how you can all work to make sure it doesn't happen any more. I don't think I did that, either. I wish I had.<br />
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I mean, you want to grow an adult who can say sorry, don't you? You want to grow an adult who can take responsibility when they make a mistake, when they lose control? <i>Be </i>that adult in front of them.<br />
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<b><u>Lessons, homework and success</u></b><br />
<br />
Here is the news: HOMEWORK IS A WASTE OF TIME in the vast majority of cases, and in <i>all </i>cases of children in early childhood. (Yep, there's research to back that up.)<br />
<br />
Doing homework in preschool is <i>not </i>going to make your child smarter or give them an academic advantage. Watching 'Baby Einstein' or 'My Baby Can Read' is<i> not </i>going to help you grow a successful adult. You can<i>not</i> <i>'</i>make<i>'</i> a child gifted. Stencils and repetition and other gimmicks do <i>not</i> give your young child a head start- what they do in many cases is turn kids off learning before they even get to proper school.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OxHNzKZADhQ/U-WSCI_F0KI/AAAAAAAAD-Q/dIISOGZWAhA/s1600/natalie's+kids5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OxHNzKZADhQ/U-WSCI_F0KI/AAAAAAAAD-Q/dIISOGZWAhA/s1600/natalie's+kids5.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the most important sort of homework for young children. Oh, and if all your photos of your children are in focus, you're doing it wrong. :D</td></tr>
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In early childhood, probably the most important thing that children are learning is how to get on with other people; how to work in groups, what happens when they behave anti-socially in a group, what the rules of this society are. <b>They do that by playing. </b>Without that type of learning, they will be hamstrung as learners in school and as adults in everything they do.<br />
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That's why the Early Childhood curriculum is play-based; that's why we EC teachers fight tooth and nail against pushing down the maths and reading curriculum into preschool. <i>We're trying to grow successful adults</i>. Why won't people listen?!!<br />
<br />
If you're spending every evening arguing with your young children about doing their homework, <i>please</i> save your breath for more productive matters! (Like, for example, going up to the school and asking the teacher what the hell he/she thinks they're doing. Or going to the park with them and running around for an hour.)<br />
<br />
But what about older kids? Don't they need a nudge from us if they're going to be successful?<br />
<br />
If you're spending every evening arguing with your adolescent children about doing their homework, <i>please</i> stop and let them learn by making mistakes! You can't live their life for them. <b>They'll learn through consequences, not through you telling and yelling</b>.<br />
<br />
And here's another awful truth: a lot of the homework they're given is pointless, given only because parents and administrators expect it. (The parents and administrators need to do their own damn homework, because the research on this matter is clear.) Often the children themselves know what matters and what doesn't, but if they don't, they'll never learn that distinction if you keep shouting in their ear about it.<br />
<br />
(Sure, if your child's <i>genuinely</i> behind with literacy, for example, you need to help them. But here's a hint:<br />
<br />
<i>You catch more flies with honey.</i><br />
<br />
Read to them. Make it a game. Search for letters or special words in the text of books they enjoy. Put the frickin' flash cards AWAY unless you can make a game of it.)<br />
<br />
To grow a fine young man or woman, you have to let them make their own mistakes and live their own life. It isn't your life; it isn't your choice. It's far, far more important to keep the lines of communication open with your child than it is to live in a state of constant warfare in the hope of making them 'successful'. That way, when they realise things have gone wrong, <i>they have somewhere safe to fall</i>. That is your job- to be their safe haven.<br />
<br />
Not to turn them into Steve Jobs, or whatever your personal idea of 'successful' is. You don't have that power, and hurrying them along won't help. <i>Let go</i>.<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
So. Are we clear on this one?<br />
<br />
<i>Slow down. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Give realistic choices.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Don't sweat the small stuff- and get your facts straight; know what's small stuff and what's big stuff. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Try to be respectful, consistent, patient, truthful. </i><br />
<br />
You can't 'make' kids behave. You can't 'make' another human being do anything, <i>unless you're prepared to use pain and fear. </i>But you<i> can </i><b>set a good example-</b> and you know what? It'll make you a better person, too.<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com118tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-56268253903726575602014-08-08T14:51:00.001+10:002014-08-08T18:23:58.661+10:00Growing good men and competent women, part 1: The problem with pink and blueI've lived in rural areas for around twenty years now, in two different areas which were down dirt roads and a long way from town. And you know, I noticed something about the people around me in both places.<br />
<br />
There were<i> lots</i> of single, deeply unhappy men.<br />
<br />
Many of those men had serious substance abuse problems; I wasn't surprised they were alone. I wondered if it was the chicken or the egg. Were these men alone because of the substance abuse, or was the substance abuse their solace to drown their loneliness?<br />
<br />
I have no answers for that. But it did make me think about how we, as parents, can try to grow our boys into happy men- men who won't find themselves alone and looking at life through the amber distortion of a beer bottle.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I'm a member of some all-female Facebook groups. I notice just how many women are miserably single, or deeply unhappy in their relationships. They're angry, bitter, hurt, disappointed. They, too, often comfort themselves with alcohol.<br />
<br />
Or shopping.<br />
<br />
Or food.<br />
<br />
What on earth are we doing wrong here? How can we grow our little girls into women who feel in charge of their own lives rather than crushed, who have realistic expectations of men, who don't keep shooting their own happiness in the foot?<br />
<br />
This is a huge and complex subject. But let's just tease out one thread at a time. First of all, let's have a look at the <i>pink and blue</i> issue, because I honestly believe it has an impact.<br />
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***********************<br />
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There are whole websites devoted to fighting the segregation of children's toys along colour-coded gender lines. It's grown like a cancer until nearly every toy retailer is doing it. A pink aisle of Barbies, tutus and home wares for the girls. A blue aisle of vehicles, weapons and action figures for the boys. The toy manufacturers have gone crazy in the same way; even Lego has started to put a wedge between the sexes, designing beauty spas in pink (with all female figures) and building sets in blue (with not a girl in sight).<br />
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And many, many parents- and retailers- believe that this is just fine. After all, the kids love it! All the girls seem to love bright pink. Boys generally shy away from pink and are happy with blue. Surely there's a natural preference at work there. Boys and girls ARE different. They like different things. So what's the problem?<br />
<br />
I've seen comment threads on Facebook implode over this very issue.<br />
<br />
For me- well, I don't like colour-coding toys by gender. One reason is that I believe it works against growing good men who treat women well, and competent women who have realistic expectations.<br />
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Do you think I'm pulling a long bow here? Bear with me.<br />
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When adults assign a colour to a gender, they make a statement which goes a lot further than they realise. I think it all starts with clothes. Right back before the child is born, many friends and relatives are wanting to know the sex of the child so they know whether to buy pink or blue for the baby.<br />
<br />
This pink-blue dichotomy is not some law of nature established at the beginning of time, though some would have you believe so. 21st century Western society gives smiling approval to pink clothes for girls because, <i>in this century,</i> we happen to think that's sweet and feminine. If you do your research, you'll find that red/pink used to be associated with male power, while blue was associated with femininity- think of the Virgin Mary- so it's simply a modern FASHION. Nothing more.<br />
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But the modern association of these colours with gender, and our approval or disapproval of their use based on the sex of the child, creates a certain dynamic in that child's head. Pink becomes GOOD, if you're a girl.<br />
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But put pink on a boy, and certain types of men (and some women) will rail and stamp and make scathing ignorant comments about the child's sexuality. (Please note: you cannot change a child's sexuality by dressing them in a different colour. That is a scientific fact.) Pink becomes BAD, if you're a boy.<br />
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<i>It's all about pink. </i>Girls don't get insulted for wearing blue, right? <b>It actually starts with an ignorant adult prejudice which we<i> teach</i> to children.</b><br />
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*********************<br />
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And then <b>money</b> enters the equation. Toy manufacturers make a certain sort of toy in a certain colour <i>in response to sales figures.</i> They are profiting from our prejudice, people!<br />
<br />
Yes, it's true that many girls gravitate towards dolls and many boys get obsessed with vehicles, but a lot of that is taught (we model gender roles every day). And not <i>all </i>children conform to those preferences, and <i>most</i> children like at least to dabble in something different <i>if</i> there's no adult pressure on them to play a certain way. We have <i>taught</i> girls to seek pink, and boys to avoid it- and once you hook a gendered colour to a certain type of toy, you cut some children off at the knees and you discourage experimentation and exploration in all the others.<br />
<br />
By allowing and approving this segregation, we also create approval for a certain type of peer pressure and bullying. Even if a boy is interested in cooking- and face it, the majority of successful chefs are male- while cookery toys are only manufactured in pink, they'll shy away from them. If adults make fun of them for even entering the pink <i>girls'</i> aisle of a toy shop, if other little boys jeer at them for owning a pink stove, what does that do to the inside of their heads?<br />
<br />
Those colours are the ultimate form of labelling (and I use that word in its most pejorative sense). Even a child understands it straight away.<br />
<br />
And do we really think it grows good men if boys end up unable to cook, groom themselves, sew on a button or clean their own house, simply because their childhood taught them that those were <i>pink</i> tasks, and pink tasks are for girls? <i>Really</i>?<br />
<br />
Creating domestically hopeless men with highly gendered expectations doesn't cut it any more. Not in this century. If you want your son to find a happy, stable relationship in adulthood, if you don't want him thrown out on his ear like the single men in my neighbourhood, you'd better be growing a good, balanced man right from the start.<br />
<br />
Ask my son. His interest in the kitchen was encouraged, he was given real tools instead of pink or blue gendered toys, and he swears to this day that his ability to cook is one of the things that women find most attractive about him.<br />
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And it cuts both ways. If a girl is jeered at for wanting to play with a truck or a car, is it any wonder she loses interest? Is it fair to then make fun of her for not understanding how her vehicle works as an adult, for forgetting to top up the oil or check the tyre pressure? Is it fair to berate her for being fixated on shopping and shoes and being beautiful, when we taught her ourselves that those were cute, <i>pink </i>things to do?<br />
<br />
We create helpless, self-involved women too. We create those girls who go looking for a man with a shopping list in their head. Maybe we never asked them to do anything technical, or dirty, or heavy- not because they weren't capable, but because those are <i>blue</i> things. We left them with expectations that they could just do all the pink things, and everyone would love them for it, and men would do the dirty work.<br />
<br />
That's not the real world. If you want your little girl to grow up strong and independent and not just waiting for a handsome rich man to sweep her off her feet, you'd better be growing a competent woman with her feet on the ground right from the start.<br />
<br />
Ask me. I watch the look in men's eyes when I pick up the block splitter and start taking the bark off a felled tree to use in our building extension. That look is<i> respect- </i>respect for my competence and confidence. I was never told I couldn't do something because it was a boys' domain- never. I played with dolls, sure, but I also went out in the bush and learned a whole lot of bushcraft at my father's knee. Axes and block splitters aren't pink or blue. They're just tools for life in the bush.<br />
<br />
And that's it, isn't it? Life isn't divided into pink and blue, and to try to teach children that it IS is disrespectful and misleading. Let's not teach our children prejudice and gender expectation, <i>even if that was what was taught to us</i>. Let's not teach them they have to fit into a colour code created by fashion and big business. <br />
<br />
Let's give them a chance to become complete, good and competent beings in themselves. Then they at least stand a chance of being able to walk <i>side by side</i> with a life partner one day, if that's what they want. An adult who knows who they are, who knows they are capable and competent with or without a partner, is the most attractive person out there. Don't you want that for your child?<br />
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<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-31017329860791308522013-11-28T13:57:00.002+10:002013-11-28T13:57:28.485+10:00When grandma won't do it your way- Part 2: The judgmental relative<i>(Note: To avoid repeating myself, I'll assume you've read <a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com/2013/11/when-grandma-wont-do-it-your-way-part-1.html"><b>Part 1 of this series</b> </a>and you have at the front of your mind that YOU are the major influence on your child, and that CHILDREN ARE RESILIENT.)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
Being a parent is so stressful. It's particularly tough on mothers early on. It's bad enough dealing with the hormones, the sleep deprivation, the complete turning-on-its-head of your normal life and routines... but then, if you're extra unlucky, you might also cop a dose of people telling you <i>you're doing it wrong.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Most often, that happens on Facebook while you're trying to get help from a parenting thread. That's tough enough, but if you hit the jackpot, the people putting you down might be the people you were most hoping would help and support you- like the child's grandparents.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEMf6_B-0Nc/Upa6gZfPMrI/AAAAAAAABUU/n0aMSXROPgk/s1600/a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="513" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEMf6_B-0Nc/Upa6gZfPMrI/AAAAAAAABUU/n0aMSXROPgk/s640/a.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My father always tried to make my small son eat everything on his plate. It was common with grandparents who'd lived through the Depression. Fortunately, I was able to trust my son to control that situation- a lot of food ended up on the floor or down his bib, and there was a lot of stubborn verbiage flying around!</td></tr>
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<br />
Oh my. <i>You're doing it wrong.</i> What an awful, undermining thing for them to tell a person they're meant to care for, a person who's doing their best but may already be having trouble keeping all the balls in the air.<br />
<br />
It might present in different words, of course, but the dictatorial tone is usually the same.<br /><br /><i>What that child needs is a good smack.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Rubbish, he's not gluten-intolerant. You're overreacting.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Don't let that child get up from the table without cleaning her plate.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>(to the child who just fell down) Don't cry. You're fine.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Don't let that child climb that tree- it's dangerous.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>If you give that baby the breast every time she asks you'll never get her sleeping through. </i><br />
<br />
Sound familiar?<br />
<br />
Oh, did you want me to tell you you're <i>right</i>, if those judgmental statements above ring a bell for you? Of course, you're almost certainly right and the person saying those things is almost certainly wrong. But <b>being right doesn't solve the problem.</b><br />
<br />
So, how do <i>we </i>respond when this happens? Let's slow this right down and analyse it, because it takes two to make a problem.<br />
<br />
*******************<br />
<br />
Any <i>'I know better than you'</i> statement, which dismisses your carefully chosen 'peaceful path' through the minefield of childcare as <i>wrong, </i>is going to send a parent off in one of three directions.<br />
<br />
1. If your own parents brought you up to comply Or Else, or to be a pleaser who always considers others before themselves, you may feel grief-stricken and tearful.<br />
<br />
2. If your parents brought you up so strictly that you rebelled and broke away, if they tried to dominate you and you're now enjoying your freedom to make your own decisions, you may feel furious.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LsDMD-AfH8/Upa7a1DrQYI/AAAAAAAABUc/AmGKo-dXPRs/s1600/Ernestine+Vic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="408" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6LsDMD-AfH8/Upa7a1DrQYI/AAAAAAAABUc/AmGKo-dXPRs/s640/Ernestine+Vic.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My father was in the 'breakaway' category- the subject of a very strict upbringing by his own parents.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
3. And if your parents brought you up to think for yourself and have a mind of your own, you're probably going to calmly consider what they say, calmly reflect on the parenting practice they're challenging, and either respectfully defend it or consider changing it.<br />
<br />
<b>Did you see what I did there? I changed the verb.</b> When your own upbringing has been less than ideal, as in options 1 and 2, you tend to <i>react </i>rather than <i>act</i>.<br />
<br />
You<i> feel</i> rather than <i>consider</i>.<br />
<br />
What I want to do here is to show you a way to move yourself towards option 3- calmly taking control without starting a war.<br />
<br />
**********************<br />
<br />
Here is a basic uncomfortable truth: <b>you can't control other people.</b><br />
<br />
Sure, other people can change their views- if they <i>want </i>to change them. The emotive options, shouting or crying at them, will not make them <i>want</i> to change. If their position is entrenched, rational explanations for your thinking will not make them <i>want</i> to change. You may have no power whatsoever to make them <i>want</i> to change.<br />
<br />
For more on this, read <b><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com/2012/02/sometimes-i-despair-changing-peoples.html">this post about changing people's minds about childcare.</a></b><br />
<br />
But- and it's a huge 'but'- you <i>can</i> try to understand other people. Understanding where someone's coming from can de-escalate your emotions. <i>That</i> is what you need to do to regain control of these situations.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>You <i>can</i> control yourself.</b><br />
<br />
***********************<br />
<br />
So first of all, have a think about this 'problem' grandparent. Try to get inside their head.<br />
<br />
They may have been brought up themselves in an atmosphere of forced compliance, violence and lack of respect for their humanity. Anything else may look like weakness to them.<br /><br />They may have a very poor self-image, and be unable to cope with people making different choices to the ones they themselves made as parents. It may feel like a judgment on them.<br />
<br />
They may have a very hollow emotional life- maybe nobody pays them any attention any more, since their own children left home. Maybe what they're really saying is 'look at me!'<br />
<br />
Who is this person who's trying to judge you? Do you <i>know </i>who they are?<br />
<br />
Maybe you can ask them some gentle questions when they say these hurtful, annoying things. (You might need to take a deep, calming breath first. Or excuse yourself while you have a drink of water or a short walk outside.)<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Were you always spanked as a child?"<br /><br />"Were you able to breastfeed your babies?"<br /><br />"Were you allowed to cry when you felt sad when you were little?"</i><br /><br />And follow up the answer with,<br />
<br />
<i>"How did that feel to you?"</i><br />
<br /><b>Turn the conversation around.</b> Make it about<i> them-</i> because these situations ARE quite often about them. They're often not about you or your child at all. And if you can understand where they're coming from, maybe you can find some compassion for their situation and take the spotlight off your parenting disagreement. Maybe you can have a real conversation with your child's grandparent.<br /><br />***********************<br />
<br />
Secondly, have a think about <i>you</i>.<br />
<br />
If these judgmental statements make you react emotionally, perhaps it's time to do some work on yourself so you can heal. What is that anger about? Why are you crying? This is <i>your</i> child, and parenting him or her is <i>your </i>responsibility- not the grandparents'. <b>For them to press your buttons, there have to be buttons.</b> Identify what those buttons are. Do you still feel, even as an adult, that you should please them in all things? Are you still angry about something from your own childhood?<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Deal with it.</i> I am a huge fan of counselling to get us past our own emotional issues.<br /><br />Parents who have their head together are far less affected by challenges to their parenting path. They may express momentary frustration, or laugh about what their MIL told them to do when next talking to their friends or their partner, but inside themselves they feel confident that they are making the right choices for their child. They don't feel a need to turn it into a war.<br /><br />Often, the button a grandparent presses is <i>your own uncertainty about whether you're doing the right thing.</i> Have a close, honest look at that. Try to do some research (and I don't mean on a parenting thread that you know will support your path- I mean finding some unbiased, scientifically researched information on the subject!) and find your confidence, or consider changing your path.<br />
<br />
Changing the way you parent doesn't make you a failure. It makes you flexible- able to reflect and change with the circumstances- and that's an excellent quality in a parent.<br /><br />********************<br />
<br />
Naturally there are some things you shouldn't put up with as a responsible parent. It's one thing to talk about spanking and food allergies and coercing a child to eat, for example. It's quite another to allow someone to actually <i>do</i> these things to your child.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4s5PaMG6QZo/Upa8KfWkw-I/AAAAAAAABUo/wWiaQdf_Hh0/s1600/Vic+Ernestine+with+Wayne+Doug+and+Jean+Cooper-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="588" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4s5PaMG6QZo/Upa8KfWkw-I/AAAAAAAABUo/wWiaQdf_Hh0/s640/Vic+Ernestine+with+Wayne+Doug+and+Jean+Cooper-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My father's parents had had a change of heart by the time I came along. They never attempted to discipline me at all, let alone strictly! And I adored them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Your child is your key here. Pay attention! Put yourself and your feelings aside for a moment and watch and listen. Is your child upset after a visit to his grandparents? Does she seem unusually angry or behave oddly? Remember, this isn't about slavishly following a parenting (or any other) ideology. It's about your child's physical and emotional welfare.<br /><br />If he or she is not showing any signs of distress, <i>butt out</i>. Children are resilient.<br />
<br />
If she or he is showing signs of distress,<i> investigate and act</i>.<br />
<br />
I had a recent inquiry from a parent whose very young child (barely two) was being subjected to vigorous religious indoctrination by her grandparents, of the 'let's all feel sad and guilty about Jesus' bloody death on the Cross' variety. The child was now showing distress upon seeing images of crosses. <br /><br />THAT IS A SIGN. Pay attention. I recommended in that case that a parent always be with the child when she was with her grandparents, and that when that subject came up (apparently it invariably did) the visit should be terminated politely. The next step, if the message wasn't received, would be to stop visiting; the welfare of your child is paramount.<br /><br />You can adapt this advice to many situations. I hesitate to recommend severing all contact with a grandparent <i>unless, despite your attempts to control the situation, it continues and the child is still showing signs of distress.</i><br />
<br />
Not you. <i>The child</i>.<br />
<br />
(Obviously- I hope it's obvious to you- you don't attempt to control a situation of actual physical, sexual or neglectful abuse. You get the hell out of there and don't come back.)<br /><br />*********************<br /><br />I can't leave this topic without including the perspective that is often forgotten in the bunfight between parents and grandparents- that of the child who's getting mixed messages. (I will assume that you've done your homework- you're <i>sure </i>in your own mind, from doing reading of scientific research, that you've made a good choice of path.)<br />
<br />
Let's take the example of the child who's told <i>'don't cry, you're fine' </i>when he falls down and hurts himself, or is told to eat everything on her plate despite feeling full already. These can be very damaging messages if the child internalises them.<br /><br />Your child's trust in you is sacred. You are their advocate. Follow what is right.<br />
<br />
It is okay to directly address your child in these circumstances and say quietly to them "It's okay to cry when you're sad, X- come here and I'll have a look at that knee" or "You may get down from the table if you're full, Y".<br /><br />Afterwards, preferably when the child is not present, you must say <i>calmly</i> to the adult who made that statement "I know you are trying to help but I disagree." Add a specific supporting statement, like "I would like my son to grow up feeling that it's okay to express emotions instead of suppressing them" or "I want to protect my daughter from eating disorders, and I don't want her continuing to eat when she's full".<br />
<br />
Be unemotional about it, but firm. Then change the subject. <br /><br />If they try to turned it into an argument use the three-word strategy- "You have asked me about that and I have answered you", which can be abbreviated the second time you use it to "Asked and answered". (Not my strategy- I wish I could remember who blogged about that to credit them!)<br /><br />If the behaviour persists, repeat! And you <i>may </i>need to add quietly but firmly, "I will overrule you every time you do that, because I want my child to be very clear in his/her own mind on this issue." Do that in private, if you have to do it at all; the aim is not to humiliate the grandparent.<br />
<br />
Take back the power which is yours, but <i>try</i> to do it with tact. I know this is hard. It's still <i>very</i> hard for some people to 'talk back' to their own parents, especially without tears or anger. But you're an adult now, and sometimes you owe it to your child to be strong.<br /><br />*******************<br /><br />So to summarise:<br /><br />YOU are the major influence on your child.<br />
<br />
YOUR CHILD IS RESILIENT and can bounce back from occasional deviations from the plan.<br /><br />REMOVE YOUR CHILD IMMEDIATELY from situations of genuine abuse.<br /><br />Try to offer grandparents the same LOVING RESPECT you offer your child.<br />
<br />
Respect that the grandchild-grandparent relationship is NOT THE SAME as the child-parent relationship, nor does it need to be.<br />
<br />
Try to UNDERSTAND where grandparents are coming from.<br />
<br />
DEAL WITH YOUR OWN CHILDHOOD ISSUES.<br />
<br />
Research your parenting and speak with CALM CONFIDENCE rather than emotionally.<br />
<br />
PAY ATTENTION to your child's reactions- act if THEY are distressed.<br />
<br />
Be strong and worthy of your child's TRUST; speak in defence of them when needed.<br />
<br />
And remember- grandparents are here for a limited time. Try to let your child enjoy that unique relationship, without sweating the small stuff.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v_1PxtEL-po/Upa9AzozoVI/AAAAAAAABUw/IGYMxKQRkyg/s1600/Jeff+Candy+Spider+Vic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v_1PxtEL-po/Upa9AzozoVI/AAAAAAAABUw/IGYMxKQRkyg/s1600/Jeff+Candy+Spider+Vic.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I used to be scared of dogs... but now I love them... I wonder how that happened? :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-82978063974146854442013-11-26T14:06:00.002+10:002013-11-28T14:07:42.695+10:00When grandma won't do it your way- Part 1: The overindulgent relativeIf I was asked what the most frequently posed problem with peaceful parenting, as expressed on Facebook, it would have to be some sort of variation on this theme:<br />
<br />
"Help! My child's grandparent/s won't support the way we're bringing up our child."<br />
<br />
Usually that's followed by something like this:<br />
<br />
"They're undoing all our good work!"<br />
<br />
"They're spoiling him!"<br />
<br />
"They say we're spoiling her!"<br />
<br />
And so on.<br />
<br />
After yet another request for help along these lines, I've decided it's time to put my Aunt Annie hat back on after a long break and try to help. So- you know my strategy by now!<i> Love and respect are the answers to everything. </i><br />
<br />
This issue is no different.<br />
<br />
It's a BIG subject, and so in this first post I'm going to deal with the over-indulgent relative.<br />
<br />
************************<br />
<br />
My first point is about respect for your child's ability to cope. Children are extremely resilient. Unless there is actual abuse going on (and by that I mean sustained personal violence or neglect, not a minor or one-off deviation from your personal guidelines), children ARE able to cope with different people or environments having different rules.<br />
<br />
I mean, think about it. If a deviation from the usual ground rules during childhood was life-changing, we would have generations of children who were terminally traumatised by going to birthday parties! Most birthday parties involve an orgy of unwise food choices, excessive giving of trashy plastic junk toys, constant entertainment provided by adults and packs of kids running around screaming whilst high on artificial colouring.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ow2RdufyCW8/T7dB7bdlUrI/AAAAAAAAAVk/1UQYk37j6CU/s1600/know+what+you+want.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ow2RdufyCW8/T7dB7bdlUrI/AAAAAAAAAVk/1UQYk37j6CU/s400/know+what+you+want.jpg" width="391" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmm, chocolate cake. Mmm, parties.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yet most of us allow our children to attend many, many parties per year without giving it a second thought.<br />
<br />
Because parties are considered a normal part of growing up in our society, and because mum and dad don't give them undue emotional weight and make a huge fuss about their kids attending them, eventually our children come to realise on their own that this isn't a normal way of living every day- it's a special treat. There are 'party rules' and 'everyday rules'.<br />
<br />
If you have over-indulgent grandparents in the picture, try to think of the environment when they're around as a sort of birthday party. Give your children credit for being able to learn that Granny's rules are not the same as Mummy and Daddy's rules, and that Grandpa's rules belong with Grandpa's presence.<br />
<br />
Children are capable of understanding this, and in fact they <i>must</i> learn this. It's a social grace to know it: 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. <i>Trust them</i> to be making their own internal assessment of what's going on. They learn by experience, not by you telling them. A tummy ache teaches more about gluttony than a lecture ever did.<br />
<br />
Here is the most important and useful thing you can do to use your anxious energy about this in positive way:<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Talk about the different rules with them, in a simple and meaningful way.</b><br />
<br />
Ask questions, and always wait for them to respond.<br />
<br />
"What do you think would happen to you if you ate five chocolate biscuits every day?"<br />
<br />
That's not a problem. That's an<i> opportunity</i>. Use it to talk about healthy eating with your child.<br />
<br />
Of course it's not always about food. Recently a reader asked me what to do about a grandparent who was always insisting that their gifted child colour in, and do so between the lines, and who was always drawing pictures for the child rather than letting them draw their own pictures. (Yep, she's right; it's educationally unsound practice.)<br />
<br />
I say, take the same approach as for the chocolate biscuits. Ask your child, "What do you think would happen if parents always drew the pictures and children always just coloured them in?"<br />
<br />
That also is an <i>opportunity </i>rather than a problem. It's time for a visit to the art gallery, or a talk about the person who drew the pictures in your child's favourite book.<br />
<br />
"How do you think this artist learned to draw?"<br />
<br />
And maybe,<br />
<br />
"Do you think she always let other people do the drawings and just coloured them in?"<br />
<br />
There's a wonderful chain of mirrors to be explored there. Who does the drawings if nobody ever learns to draw?<br />
<br />
It's amazing what you can find out about your child's thinking if you stop <i>telling</i> and <i>worrying</i> and instead start <i>asking</i>. That is part of respect.<br />
<br />
**********************<br />
<br />
Here's another thing to reflect upon. How different is your parenting style from your parents' parenting style?<br />
<br />
Is it even in the same ball park?<br />
<br />
Human beings are naturally defensive. When you embark on a radically different parenting path from your own parents' methods, it can be seen as a judgment on them. The most common response to being judged is to entrench your own position and defend it to the death.<br />
<br />
So, let's say your parents nearly always rewarded you with food when you were good. Mine certainly did! It's common practice still in our society.<br />
<br />
These days, those sorts of rewards have been examined and found wanting, and as a parent who's into self-educating (and you are, or you wouldn't be reading this blog!), you will want to do better and remove the emotional baggage from food. But <i>still </i>your mother keeps giving your child chocolate biscuits for every good thing he does! Even after you explain why you don't want her to!<br />
<br />
The more you object, the more entrenched your mother will become behind her wall of <i>it-never-did-you-any-harm</i>. To think she harmed her own child- <i>you</i>- by giving food an emotional loading is just too awful for her to contemplate.<br />
<br />
Put her shoes on! Think from her perspective! She can't change the past, so she will almost certainly choose to defend it. It won't matter how many informative articles you throw her way. Those will just produce guilt, and she'll become deaf and blind to what you're saying about it.<br />
<br />
If you can use the 'different houses, different rules' strategy to stop yourself worrying about it so much, that is great. If not, you need to be creative and find a work-around.<br />
<br />
Maybe you can ask mum to help you by insisting your child clean his/her teeth after every biscuit. Dentists are so expensive!<br />
<br />
Maybe you can encourage a lot more outdoor play at home, so your child works those biscuits off by running around.<br />
<br />
Try not to turn it into a war. Wars just result in casualties. Life isn't perfect, and sometimes we do have to compromise.<br />
<br />
And I'll say it again:<br />
<br />
You are the major influence.<br />
<br />
Children are capable and resilient.<br />
<br />
*********************<br />
<br />
Even if you're living with the grandparent, it's possible to be clear and firm about different rules. Of course, you may have to cope with some flack from your child and take on the role of Big Bad Wolf sometimes. Accept it! That's your job!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uNt1ytUU_Rc/T67yNIDdA5I/AAAAAAAAAUU/coqH7BYnIH0/s1600/gwenforjess006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="393" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uNt1ytUU_Rc/T67yNIDdA5I/AAAAAAAAAUU/coqH7BYnIH0/s400/gwenforjess006.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never had time to make orange peel teeth to make<br />
my son laugh. But my mother did. She was only <br />
with us till my son was two and a half.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Grandparents are often only with us for a relatively small part of the child's life. YOU are a much more powerful influence, and if you always treat your child with love, compassion and respect, without making an emotional mountain out of every little bump in the road, then these momentary challenges to your authority will eventually abate.<br />
<br />
Acknowledge the feelings your child is having whilst adjusting to different rules. When they shout "I want to stay with Nana all the time!" or "I love Poppy better than you!", take a deep breath and translate it back to them.<br />
<br />
"I can hear that you're angry with me. That's okay. It's hard for you to understand why we have different rules. But the main thing is we both love you a lot, and<b> people don't always say 'I love you' the same way</b>. Nana says 'I love you' by drawing you pictures. I say 'I love you' by making sure you learn how to draw pictures for yourself. It's all good."<br />
<br />
And that brings me to love. It is almost certain that whatever it is that the grandparent is doing that has upset you, it's being done with love.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the indulgent grandparent regrets spending so little time playing with his or her own children, and wishes they'd spoiled them a little more. That's going to press your buttons, isn't it? If you see your parent acting in a way they<i> never </i>seemed to act when you were a child, that will probably make you mad as hell! And that is the time to call on love, and put yourself in your parent or parent-in-law's shoes. Deal with your own feelings about your own experiences at another time- they don't belong in the ring with bringing up this child of yours.<br />
<br />
And remember, grandparenthood is <i>not</i> the same as parenthood. Grandparents are often starting to face their own mortality. They probably are aware that they have limited time to form a relationship with your child. They probably desperately wish for your child to remember them fondly when they're gone. The door is open for going over the top!<br />
<br />
Try to let go a little and step back. Children who do remember their grandparents fondly have a precious treasure for life. It's not about parenting ideology. It's about love, and connection, and relationship.<br />
<br />
A grandparent isn't stealing or corrupting your relationship with your child, unless of course they're actually physically or emotionally abusive (in which case, get the hell out of there NOW, because you're destroying your child's trust in you to keep them safe). A grandparent is forming their own relationship with the child, and you can't and mustn't expect that to be the same as your own relationship with him or her. That power doesn't belong to you- it belongs to the two of them.<br />
<br />
In practical terms, of course, there are still difficulties. Let's go back to the five chocolate biscuits a day. If Granny insists on allowing this, it doesn't matter much at all if your child sees her once a month. If, on the other hand, you're all living together for the long term- well, it matters a lot!<br />
<br />
If you have this sort of problem, then the only way to handle it is to sit down with your mum or dad after your children are in bed and <i>put their shoes on before you open your mouth</i>. Make sure you come to the table prepared with some questions and your own reflections upon why this is happening. And please, don't even <i>start</i> before you've asked yourself this question:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Am I overreacting because of something <b>I'm</b> feeling?</i><br />
<br />
********************<br />
<br />
Try your best to talk with love, not anger, because anger feels fine and dandy while you're shouting, but it doesn't solve problems.<br />
<br />
<i>"Why do you let X eat so many biscuits?" </i><br />
<br />
in a genuinely interested and puzzled tone of voice will get you a lot further than<br />
<br />
<i>"You've got to stop giving X all those biscuits every day. You'll rot his teeth. Haven't you read anything about child obesity?"</i><br />
<br />
shouted from the doorway- even though the second option may <i>feel</i> better to you.<br />
<br />
<i>"I feel really worried about this"</i><br />
<br />
(spoken honestly with eye contact with your parent) will similarly get you a lot further than throwing anger and blame around.<br />
<br />
Don't try to solve all your problems in one talk. Spend your first talk-time hearing the grandparent's point of view. You will ONLY extract the truth with gentleness and love. Without that softly-softly approach you will get nowhere near the truth!<br />
<br />
Maybe it will turn into a reminiscence session about when you were a child. Who knows? There may even be some personal healing to be had, if you can put aside your anger and fear and approach your own parents with love.<br />
<br />
Remember how hard parenting is. Don't imagine that your own mother and father didn't have their own moments of anger and fear. Maybe you can ask them how they felt about <i>your</i> grandparents- whether they had different rules and made your parents worry about how it would affect you.<br />
<br />
Ask them about their own childhood.<br />
<br />
Get closer to them.<br />
<br />
I know how hard<i> you're</i> trying to do the best possible job parenting your child. Once upon a time, your parents did exactly the same thing with you. They weren't perfect, and neither are you. Acknowledge that fact, and you're halfway there.<br />
<br />
Can you offer your child's grandparents the respect and love that you offer to your child? Try it. It's <i>still</i> the answer.<br />
<br />
<b><i><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2013/11/when-grandma-wont-do-it-your-way-part-2.html"><br /></a></i></b>
<b><i><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2013/11/when-grandma-wont-do-it-your-way-part-2.html">You can read Part 2 of this series, about judgemental grandparents, here.</a></i></b>Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-34364828006046136562013-08-23T14:55:00.002+10:002013-08-23T15:02:53.646+10:00Detachment parentingI worry about the extremes some mums will go to, in the belief that they're doing the right thing by their child. Every day I read of mums who've faithfully followed a 'method' of parenting, to the point where they've fallen over a cliff that wasn't meant to be there.<br />
<br />
I could write this article about several 'methods' which have hidden pitfalls if people take things to extremes, but I'll start with the one that I see come up most frequently in my Facebook feed.<br />
<br />
Attachment parenting is a method I'd never even heard of when I had my child, but having done a LOT of reading, I do get what it's about- or what it's <i>meant</i> to be about. It's <i>meant</i> to be about peacefully meeting your baby's needs so that baby feels secure.<br />
<br />
Isn't that what most mums want? A secure, happy baby?<br />
<br />
I practised some parts of attachment parenting unconsciously; it seemed natural and right to me, for example, to take my baby into my bed when he expressed the need to be with me at night, and to feed him whenever he asked, and to carry him pretty much whenever he asked.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UdxSWaXs_yk/UhboaSge75I/AAAAAAAABFk/yokSt67JqLI/s1600/oldpics017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UdxSWaXs_yk/UhboaSge75I/AAAAAAAABFk/yokSt67JqLI/s640/oldpics017.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with my best friend's baby. Carry<br />
a child this size around all day? No<br />
way- I would have ruined my back! <br />
He was seriously heavy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Within reason, that is. <i>Not </i>to the extent that I constantly compromised my own precious few hours of sleep, or offered the breast at every whimper, or hurt my back trying to carry a solid 18-month-old everywhere. I had to make sure I didn't ignore my own genuine needs whilst meeting my baby's. I knew that if I did, I would become a worse parent- not a better one.<br />
<br />
And that seems to be something many mums find difficult. While I see how attachment parenting has great value for so many mums, I also worry about the mums who have fallen over the cliff. They're struggling with feelings of failure because they see themselves as <i>not doing it right, </i>because their own needs haven't magically disappeared. I worry about mums who are setting themselves up for future pain by ignoring their own needs completely.<br />
<br />
That's where a little <i>detachment </i>parenting can be very, very useful in the attachment parent's work kit.<br />
<br />
Detachment parenting doesn't mean ignoring your child, or not caring! Of course not!<br />
<br />
It means taking a 'time out' for yourself from your parenting mission, stepping back and looking at the big picture. It means understanding that <b>your child grows increasingly separate from you</b>.<br />
<br />
And so it must be, and so it should be.<br />
<br />
*******************<br />
<br />
Here are some signs that an attachment parent needed to practise a little detachment parenting along the way. (They're problems from real life. I didn't invent them.)<br />
<br />
1. Their preschooler resolves every emotional conflict with his/her peers by suckling.<br />
<br />
2. Their husband no longer sleeps with them and the relationship is falling apart, because there isn't room for him in the bed; there's no sex either, because there's no privacy.<br />
<br />
3. They're in physical pain from carrying a heavy child everywhere.<br />
<br />
Those are extreme cases- of course they are!- and I suspect that Dr Sears would be horrified to read about them. One of the tenets of his theory is that <b>parents need to recognise stages of development in their child and have age-appropriate expectations</b>- and certainly his method is NOT intended to cause marital disharmony or physical injury.<br />
<br />
Well, it's easy for me to sit here and sound critical, isn't it? It's one thing to point out a problem with some people's interpretation of attachment parenting, and it's another thing altogether to try to fix it. So while some parents' problems make me shake my head in dismay, I feel like I have no right to do that unless I have something positive and useful to offer as well.<br />
<br />
I've always found that understanding <i>why </i>people head for a cliff is the best way to change their course. Here is my theory of <i>why</i> attachment parenting ends in tears for some women (not all! Some!), and how to address the problem.<br />
<br />
*********************<br />
<br />
Many, many mothers have parenting or relationship 'war wounds'. There's no such thing as the perfect parent or the perfect partner, but some are <i>so</i> imperfect that they leave scars.<br />
<br />
If our own childhood was torn apart by a lack of intimacy and care, if our current relationships are abusive or superficial and unsatisfying, then the arrival of a baby can be the most addictively wonderful thing that has ever happened to us. If all our life we've felt somewhat unimportant, then our life becomes meaningful in a flash with the birth of our child.<br />
<br />
These are heady, intoxicating feelings. Combine them with the overdose of hormones pounding around our bodies when we give birth, and some overwhelmingly powerful emotions can come to the fore. We're <i>meant </i>to fall in love with our baby... but some vulnerable women may do so to extremes.<br />
<br />
At that moment of finally being loved and needed unconditionally, perspective can fall by the wayside. When a baby becomes our entire reason for living, that is a worry. When the techniques designed to comfort and support a baby are extended past the point where they are <i>developmentally appropriate</i>- then Houston, we have a problem.<br />
<br />
The example of the preschooler who uses suckling to avoid peer-related problem-solving is a perfect example. That is not developmentally appropriate. Children need to experience mild conflicts with their peers, learn how to negotiate their way through them, and learn that even if a problem is not solved the way they'd like it to be,<i> they will survive.</i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-egGsdERXLdc/UhbpFgZ8-JI/AAAAAAAABFs/zVudodUMSAk/s1600/rowan+cleaning001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="408" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-egGsdERXLdc/UhbpFgZ8-JI/AAAAAAAABFs/zVudodUMSAk/s640/rowan+cleaning001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My son was fiercely independent from a very young<br />
age. He liked to move away from me, then return. That didn't<br />
make me feel less loved and needed, or him less attached to me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A baby is a very small human being who will need to learn to stand alone one day. Every day she becomes more capable, more able to express her individuality. The idea is to help him become <i>less</i> dependent, not to strive to <i>keep</i> him dependent. If a woman invests her whole sense of self in her child, either she will be shattered each time that child grows away from her, no matter that it's in a developmentally appropriate way- or she will actively (though not intentionally) cripple her child's ability to cope alone.<br />
<br />
Broken parent, or broken child? Not a great choice.<br />
<br />
And of course, the spin-off from that- when a woman is completely wound up in her child's every need- is that other relationships wither, including her relationship with herself. When the child grows away from her, that woman has nothing left. The day the last child goes to school, or moves away to go to college, is a tragedy. Menopause feels like death. She's not invested in her own growth, either; she has nothing to fall back on. Her partner- sidelined for all those years- has lost interest, strayed, found other means of entertainment.<br />
<br />
What is needed here, before the love story ends in disaster?<br />
<br />
The first casualty of being too close to something- in this case, to one's own child- is perspective. Hold your finger too close to your eye and try to focus on it, and everything else becomes a blur; <i>you can't even see your finger properly</i>.<br />
<br />
Do you recognise yourself in what I said? Pull back a little. Breathe. Detach, just for a short time, so you can focus on the big picture.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IYxnL4pefAs/UhbpoXlP6gI/AAAAAAAABF0/ZpKfGvZJ0rg/s1600/rowan+cleaning002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IYxnL4pefAs/UhbpoXlP6gI/AAAAAAAABF0/ZpKfGvZJ0rg/s400/rowan+cleaning002.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, a 2-year-old operating an<br />
electric vacuum cleaner. Children<br />
are capable. Be present and aware,<br />
but try not to be too fearful.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
Learn about child development. What should your baby be doing for himself at this age? What skills should she be learning? Think about whether you're actually getting in your child's way by being too helpful, too present, too fearful.<br />
<br />
Ask for help to see yourself and your child clearly. Plenty of people want to <i>tell us </i>how to fix things- don't we just <i>love</i> unsolicited advice?!!- but that doesn't help, does it? We have to <i>want</i> to know.<br />
<br />
And we need to choose who we ask for advice very carefully. Remember that not everyone who replies on a Facebook thread has sound knowledge or experience. Brainstorming can be useful, sure, but it's human nature to cling to the advice that tells us to<i> go on doing exactly what we are already doing</i>.<br />
<br />
Not helpful.<br />
<br />
The bottom line, as ever, is for us all to recognise the need to work on ourselves, even if we're currently <i>convinced </i>we're parenting really well. Time spent addressing our own emotional needs is never wasted. Time spent healing old wounds is precious and necessary. Time spent establishing personal support systems? Priceless.<br />
<br />
Never let anyone make you feel bad for seeking professional help for your hurts. Never feel like a failure for asking for help for YOU, because <b>sometimes that is the single most wonderful thing you can do as a parent.</b><br />
<br />
If you know your relationship with your partner is in disrepair, try not to use your child as a way to ignore the problem. Your child's job is to grow away from you. That will hurt like crazy if you've given them a role they're not designed to fill.<br />
<br />
Detach from your child for long enough to address the issue of your relationship. Do you want to stay and work on it, or leave?<br />
<br />
If you know your relationship with your parents left massive scars of anger and pain, you can bet that it's messed with your own parenting skills in some way. Even I can trace mistakes I made all the way back to my own parents, despite the fact that I was very lucky on that score.<br />
<br />
Deal with the wounds. Find help- an understanding friend, or better still, a professional to talk to.<br />
<br />
****************<br />
<br />
If the idea of detaching from your child for even a moment makes you angry or afraid, maybe this is striking close to the bone. Look away from your own relationship with your child, because that's what makes you feel sensitive. It's a touchy subject.<br />
<br />
Instead, try to reflect on your <i>separateness</i> from your own parents.<br />
<br />
You were not part of them, were you? At first you were dependent on them for everything, but then you became aware of your own thoughts and feelings and cares. You <i>needed </i>to grow away from them, to lead your own life. If they clung to you, it was uncomfortable or irritating. If they got in your way as you tried to become independent, it was frustrating.<br />
<br />
You don't want your growing child to feel frustrated, irritated, smothered by YOU. Do you?<br />
<br />
Honour your baby's need to discover their independence. Educate yourself about stages of development. Allow that you can't protect your growing child from everything- <i>nor should you</i>. Let them find out who they are, away from you. Understand that the pain of letting go is a necessary part of parenting, and that nothing lasts forever.<br />
<br />
Above all, remember that the woman in the mirror is just as loveable and just as deserving of tender care as her child. She, also, needs her independence. She needs to let her child go for longer and longer periods, so she can see who she is when she's not being a mother.<br />
<br />
That addictive moment of being everything to our baby is ephemeral. We need to let it go, or it sours and ruins everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-19760642855495821102013-07-29T19:43:00.001+10:002013-07-29T21:43:46.882+10:00Real tools for kids: dangerous or respectful?When my son turned seven, a friend of mine gave him a gift that he treasured for many years. Even now, twenty years later, he still has one part of the set in the kitchen drawer in his marital home.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
The present was a set of half a dozen Victorinox kitchen knives.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ud_8c80xMYM/UfYa9SByEPI/AAAAAAAABDI/kVij0-zret0/s1600/victorinox2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ud_8c80xMYM/UfYa9SByEPI/AAAAAAAABDI/kVij0-zret0/s1600/victorinox2.jpeg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oti3Wqtv-vA/UfYa7reQ5SI/AAAAAAAABDA/fCkrO_KhY2o/s1600/victorinox.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oti3Wqtv-vA/UfYa7reQ5SI/AAAAAAAABDA/fCkrO_KhY2o/s1600/victorinox.jpeg" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Are you horrified?<br />
<br />
Victorinox is the company that makes Swiss army knives. These things are wickedly sharp. I once cut my finger to the bone mishandling one of their pocket knives. Perhaps you're wondering what on earth my friend was thinking, putting such dangerous tools into the hands of such a young child.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But you know, every chef will tell you that the really dangerous knife is the one with the dull edge (how many of you have cut yourself trying to slice a tomato with a blunt knife?). And my friend knew some important facts about my young son:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. He was already an avid cook.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. He was not the least bit interested in hurting himself.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You know, I don't think he <i>ever</i> cut himself with those knives- certainly not as a child- and he never left them lying around. They were treated with great care and respect.<br />
<br />
He was careful, because he knew they could hurt him badly if he wasn't. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5Oi89kPVjuE/UfZT6UuSa8I/AAAAAAAABDo/HIe2J-Bz2v0/s1600/child+knife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5Oi89kPVjuE/UfZT6UuSa8I/AAAAAAAABDo/HIe2J-Bz2v0/s400/child+knife.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Suzanne Axelsson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He was respectful and always put them away in their box- both to keep them sharp, and to keep them where he'd be able to find them. He knew they allowed him to do the creative work in the kitchen that he really wanted to do, and he was prepared to plan ahead to make sure that kept happening. (There was absolute hell to pay some seven or eight years later when one of the set disappeared after a party at our house. I heard about it for weeks.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, let me tell you that this was a child who was disinclined to neatness and putting things away! His room was always absolute chaos- toys from one end to the other, Lego and train track and heaven knows what else all mixed up and all over the floor. But those knives- that was a totally different story. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TP1GFg9Ep8w/UfY1xpiAX8I/AAAAAAAABDY/6pkJFWeWlTk/s1600/Plastic+toys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TP1GFg9Ep8w/UfY1xpiAX8I/AAAAAAAABDY/6pkJFWeWlTk/s400/Plastic+toys.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are tools, but they're not real. They wouldn't have had <br />
any respect shown for them from my child, no matter what<br />
age he was. They would have been strewn all over the floor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2HQKumOwtO4/UfZUWI_PAXI/AAAAAAAABDw/xUX1O9Xo5qU/s1600/2yroldhammering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2HQKumOwtO4/UfZUWI_PAXI/AAAAAAAABDw/xUX1O9Xo5qU/s400/2yroldhammering.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A two-year-old might be given the plastic toys in the previous<br />photo- but here's a two-year-old using a real hammer with<br />perfect competence. Photo courtesy Suzanne Axelsson.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<b>WHY</b>? Why did my son have a different attitude to the knives?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I suspect that the difference was that he was given a<i> real </i>set of tools. My friend had shown him great respect by trusting him to use those knives carefully and for the intended purpose, and he rose to the occasion. <br />
<br />
Also, she knew him well, even though they saw each other rarely. She had managed to create a<i> relationship</i> with him in a very short span of time- and because she understood his interests, she chose the right real tool to give him. She showed real respect for him by doing this. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So what's my point? What can we learn from this story?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
****************</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We can learn that <i>respecting children's abilities </i>can create respectful behaviour in children.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We can learn that giving children <i>real tools</i> can be a game-changer, with long-term impact.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We can learn that <i>relationship</i> is the basis of knowing what a child wants to work with, and the key to them doing it safely; remember,<b> <i>play is the work of childhood</i></b>.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
****************</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Many adults are frightened by the thought of allowing children to use real tools- particularly those who look after groups of other people's children. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"What if they hurt themselves?", they say. "I can't have my eye on them every minute. What if they hurt someone else? There are so many children with impulse control issues! It's too dangerous!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Let me deal with those points, and show you <b>HOW</b> we can make using real tools in the classroom safe. (Parents can easily adapt these methods to use with their own young children.)<br />
<br />
<b>1. Children will not set out to hurt themselves, and they are unlikely to hurt anyone else if the preparation is adequate.</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If children hurt themselves when using real tools, then the problem is either:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(a) that these children weren't <i>interested</i> in using them the right way (ie, it was the wrong type of tool to give to those children) </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
or </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(b) that the preparation by the adult was inadequate.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am absolutely not recommending that we place razor-sharp knives in the hands of a room full of four-year-olds. However, a four-year-old is completely capable of having a turn of using a sharp knife to cut a birthday cake, for example, if the exercise is preceded by some sensible preparation. (In fact, many much younger children can do this given the right preparation.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So how do you prepare children to use real tools?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I often start with story books which show a particular tool being used. This is a 'seed' for discussion, and that lets you find out whether the child or children are interested in using that tool. (What child isn't interested in cutting a birthday cake?!)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next step is to open up a discussion about safety. I might say, "You seem pretty interested in using a sharp knife to cut something. Would you like to try?" (And wait for the response- no prizes for guessing what most 4-year-olds would say!)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then I might continue,"But sharp knives can be dangerous. Has anyone here ever cut themselves? It hurts, doesn't it!! Do you think we need some safety rules? What rules do you think we should make?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Remember- children are MUCH better at <i>observing</i> rules if they've had input into <i>making</i> the rules.<br />
<br />
I would, of course, provoke responses about matters they hadn't raised. "Do you think it's safe to grab a sharp knife? Do we need a rule about that?" You have to think this whole process through before you start- I'd make my own little list of important points to cover in advance.<br />
<br />
And finally, "What shall we do if someone breaks a rule?"</div>
<div>
<br />
I'd write down the rules and consequences that all the children agreed on. I'd try to write it in positive language- for example, "only hit nails" would be a positive rule for hammers, and "only hold the handle" for knives- but it's actually more important to be faithful to what the kids say. I'd use their words wherever possible.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, they probably can't read the rules at age four, but in a class situation I'd write them down as a poster and put them up on the wall. That is a literary learning experience! I'd milk it for all it was worth! I'd read it back to them, pointing to the words- <i>their</i> words.<br />
<br />
And then, when the real tool came into the room, the groundwork would be done. The rules would be there in black and white, everyone would have had a part in agreeing to them, and we would all know what was going to happen if anyone did anything silly.<br />
<br />
Once children have made their own rules by mutual consent, they are wonderful at policing them. You probably won't have to open your mouth.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>2. Children with impulse control issues need you to do extra work on relationship and supervision. Then, refer to point 1.</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We all know that children with impulse control issues need extra supervision and extra one-to-one attention. The fact is that these children can hurt others with seemingly harmless items- I've seen a child hit a peer with a simple wooden block so hard the peer had to be taken to the hospital for stitches. We have to supervise these children closely <i>all the time.</i> </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That is<i> not</i> an excuse to deny all the other children access to real tools.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But it does mean that we have to think harder about our preparation. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We may need to find a quiet area, make good eye contact (unless there is an issue with autism) and discuss again with this child, calmly but enthusiastically, what has been decided by the whole class. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We may need to make a point of asking this particular child (or these children!) what they think of each rule while the class is making them, and we may need to ensure they give an individual response about each consequence. "Do you think that's fair, Brett?" (We need to ask a few kids each time, especially anyone who's not paying close attention!- singling out the child we feel might have a problem with the activity is not constructive.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
INVOLVE THEM. TALK TO THEM. BE POSITIVE.<br />
<br />
Having a child with <i>very</i> severe uncontrolled behaviour in our room will usually mean having an additional staff member present for some hours of the day. Those hours are the time to use real tools, with directions for the extra staff member to concentrate solely on<b> helping this child to succeed</b>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Note: those words are important. If you start with a negative mind set, a negative outcome is likely. Children read and respond to atmosphere.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You might be surprised at how well a child like this responds to a 'real' activity- children with Aspergers, in particular, are often adept with real tools and might find themselves leading the class rather than feeling isolated!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0uG9RfdhvXU/UfZU3kOf81I/AAAAAAAABD4/omBuIEpzMMk/s1600/boymakingstuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0uG9RfdhvXU/UfZU3kOf81I/AAAAAAAABD4/omBuIEpzMMk/s400/boymakingstuff.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All children are good at something. For some, using real tools<br />might be a breakthrough moment which gives them a real sense<br />of competence. Photo courtesy of Suzanne Axelsson.</td></tr>
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And of course you don't have to start with a sharp knife, if that terrifies you out of your wits. You can start with a screwdriver and an old, non-functional piece of electronic equipment- "What do you think is inside this CD player?"- or toys which are past their use-by date. You can start with some soft pieces of wood, some small but REAL hammers and some sharp nails (a plastic comb can be used to hold the nails in place while children learn to strike the nail head; a magnet in an old stocking leg from panty hose can be used to pick up stray nails from the floor afterwards). You can start with any real tool your kids show interest in,<i> as long as you've thought it through and prepared the class.</i><br />
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I'm singing the same song I always sing, aren't I? Respect, relationship, reflection. </div>
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Children are capable beings, and if we <b>respect</b> their capabilities we will very often be amazed by what they can do. Offering them real tools is a way we can show this respect.<br />
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Children are people just like us, and they like and need to be part of a healthy, respectful <b>relationship</b>. They like to be involved in decisions that affect them. Involving them in making and keeping safety rules is a way we can enhance this relationship, as well as looking after their welfare and helping them develop risk assessment skills.</div>
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Teachers need to <b>reflect</b> if their planned activities are to succeed. Reflect on the children's interests and likely behavioural problems before you start- then plan and prepare, and you'll find that real tools can be a very positive contribution to your educational programme.</div>
Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-6812614357011539962013-05-04T16:19:00.003+10:002013-05-04T16:56:48.041+10:00Don't set yourself up for guilt!There have been a lot of posts and articles coming up in my feed lately about the myth of perfect parenting. 'Mummy guilt', in particular, seems to consume enough of us to warrant special attention in the world of online parenting.<br />
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<i>We need to work, so we put our child in care. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Our child still hits us, despite our gentle parenting. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We couldn't breastfeed, </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>or our child will only eat white bread and peanut butter, </i><br />
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<i>or we didn't parent our first child as well as this, because we just didn't know...</i><br />
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Those articles and blog posts will tell you <i>this is normal</i>. They'll tell you <i>there's no reason to feel guilty</i>. They'll tell you <i>we all fail sometimes</i>.<br />
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But reading an article which <i>tells </i>us not to feel guilty really isn't enough, is it? Failing, and feeling bad about it, <i>does</i> seem to be part of the parenting journey for all of us (and if you're telling me that either you've never failed or you've never felt bad about it, then you're lying to both of us). But getting past that sinking feeling when we mess up is something else entirely.<br />
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So this morning, I started to ask myself if there's any way I can help parents to avoid setting themselves up for failure and guilt, and I came to an 'aha' moment. It won't fix every bad feeling. But it can fix rather a lot of them.<br />
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This much life has taught me:<br />
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<b>When things go wrong, we <i>have</i> probably contributed to that ourselves somehow. But the answer isn't guilt- the answer is reflection. </b><br />
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The answer is <i>thinking about what happened, and why</i>, so we can avoid walking the same path next time.<br />
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Guilt is destructive.<br />
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Reflection is constructive.<br />
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How much time do we spend reflecting on where we came from- on our own experience of being parented- and on how our <i>expectations</i> about parenting have been hard-wired by our environment, before we have children ourselves?<br />
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Probably very little, unless we've been in therapy. Mostly, we walk blind into parenthood with some fantasy of being the perfect Earth Mother who does it all the natural way, or being the mother with perfect, well-behaved, bright children who never put a foot wrong, or the working mother who has it all because we chose the right childcare provider and school before the kids were even born...<br />
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Life has a way of making fun of our plans, doesn't it?<br />
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How about I give you an example of a hard-wired parenting mistake that stems from the parent's own childhood? Examples always bring philosophical ideas to life.<br />
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<u>The failure</u><br />
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Let me tell you about a little two-year-old I know who refused to eat. He would take<i> forever </i>over his meals. His mother was trying everything! She was offering him<i> everything</i>, in the hope that he'd eat <i>something</i>. The table was full of child-friendly food, and he was having none of it- both literally and figuratively.<br />
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Did she feel like she was failing? My word she did, even though she was trying her heart out.<br />
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Did she feel guilty? Absolutely!<br />
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<u>The reflection</u><br />
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When I talked to the mother about her childhood, it was clear that she'd been parented by an anxious and fairly rigid mother. She'd never been given choices at all as a child. Everything to do with eating, in particular, had been both contradictory and dictatorial. "You need to go on a diet!" might well be followed by "You need more food than that!"<br />
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This mum was determined to do better!<i> Her </i>child would have choices about food. Then he would eat what he wanted and needed, rather than learning the problems she herself had experienced all her life with food and body weight.<br />
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But it wasn't working. It <i>should</i> be working! What was she doing wrong? She was so worried!<br />
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<u>The solution</u><br />
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Sometimes when you make a parenting decision which is <b>a reaction against the way you were parented</b>, your judgment can be clouded by the emotions involved. Some of her instincts were perfect- it's wonderful that she was trusting her child to know what he wanted to eat, and to make the choices for himself.<br />
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But her first problem issue was that her son was only two- and, forgetting or maybe not understanding that a two-year-old is very easily overwhelmed, she was unconsciously giving him <i>too much</i> choice. In fact, she'd transferred to him almost the same level of choice she would give to herself as an adult. Half the pantry was out on that table.<br />
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When I suggested that she offer a <i>maximum of two</i> choices to her son, the transformation was instantaneous- he would reach out to the one he wanted with little or no hesitation.<br />
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The other factor at play was that, like her own mother before her, this mum had learned to be anxious about anything to do with eating. And just like her, her son was a very sensitive child to emotions (most young children are, in fact). I suggested she step back, having given him that initial choice, and busy herself with something else. No hovering!<br />
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Again, the result was magical. Mealtimes became quicker, easier and guilt-free. When you take the emotion out of mealtimes, children can find their own body sensations of emptiness/fullness and respond to them <i>without worrying about what will please or upset their parent and reacting to that.</i><br />
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So- do you see how this mum had accidentally set herself up for failure and guilt? <b>Overreaction to your own childhood experiences can cause you to make less-than-ideal parenting decisions.</b><br />
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There are many, many things from our own childhoods that we might react against. A parent who comes from a home where there was constant yelling and violence, for example, may determine to become a 'peaceful parent' (please do!!), and then wonder why their child is acting out and making them want to fall back on their own parents' methods. They might start to spank, and plead online for help before they become their own parents all over again, despite their best efforts.<br />
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I've seen that time and time again.<br />
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Often the answer is that this parent has been giving boundaries without firmness in their tone, or making directions into questions, or giving an explanation of the reason for the direction without giving a clear direction at all. Perhaps they've been saying, in a tentative tone, "Pick up your toys now, okay?" and "It hurts when you hit mummy", instead of saying firmly (but quietly and politely) "Please pick up your toys now so we can go to the park" (and not going to the park if it doesn't happen) and "I won't let you hit" (and physically stopping the child from doing so).<br />
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It is<i> hard</i> for the now-grown, once-cowed child to learn and use a firm tone of voice as a parent, and to ask or state their requirements very firmly and directly. Don't think I'm telling you that reflection immediately fixes everything! I'm not! New habits must sometimes be learned, and that is always difficult.<br />
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But learning a new habit is much more constructive than sitting there feeling guilty because you failed, yes?<br />
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Overreaction isn't the only faulty response to our own parenting, either. Sometimes our respect and love for our parents blinds us to the fact that they, too, made mistakes. Of course they did. <b>If there's no such thing as the perfect parent, then we didn't have one either.</b><br />
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That is a very hard pill for some of us to swallow.<br />
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I believed for a very long time that my mother was the perfect mother- till long after she'd died, in fact. She was always respectful to me, she always explained things, she supported my interests and I always felt loved.<br />
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It wasn't until my son was quite grown up that I realised that I'd copied one of her failures to the letter.<br />
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You see, I was never expected to do chores or clean up after myself. I was expected to do my homework, practise the piano, be polite to others and fastidious in my personal care, and entertain myself most of the time- all of which I duly did. (With the possible exception of the piano practice- but that's another story.) I copied those ground rules to the letter with my son.<br />
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What did I get for that? For myself, I got peculiar looks from my girlfriends' parents when I was invited to dinner and never offered to help wash up. I nearly got thrown out of my first share house for never washing my own dishes. I learned about chores the hard way, and it was NOT fun.<br />
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I never connected the dots about that before I had my own child. I just copied what my mother had done. And needless to say, my son has had 'tidiness issues' too. I won't go into too many details, but let's just say that I've had cause to regret not making daily chores part of the learning experience when he was young.<br />
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It never occurred to me that my own parent might have been wrong. If you'd dared to say so, I would have challenged you with great anger.<br />
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I see this same anger when I try to help parents who, for example, can't understand why their adolescent has become a stranger and won't obey them. Their child is too big to spank now- what can they do? They've escalated punishments till there's nowhere to go.<br />
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<i>It's nothing to do with the spankings,</i> they say crossly. <i>I was spanked myself as a child, and it never did me any harm!</i><br />
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Of course, it's too late to tell them how flawed their thinking is by then. Challenge the idea of spanking, and you challenge their respect for their own parents.<br />
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And of course, if you try to warn a spanking parent of what the consequences will be before their child hits adolescence... they won't believe you. They probably won't reflect on how they themselves felt as adolescents, how they rebelled, how little they told their parents about their lives as they 'broke away' and became independent for fear of being punished.<br />
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So <b>copying your own parenting can be as fraught with danger as overreacting to it.</b> It takes a<i> lot </i>of reflection to find that middle line between making the same mistakes and making the opposite mistakes!<br />
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And here I'm going to draw in another thread that's turned up in my Facebook feed lately: the cult of busy-ness. If you're <i>too busy</i> to spend quiet time reflecting on how you were parented, and what the pitfalls might be, then maybe it's time you dropped something.<br />
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Reflection is important. Of course it's more important than a new car, or a pair of shoes, or even than a house in a posh suburb- yet some parents get obsessed with income at the expense of their children, and then suffer the pangs of parent-guilt when something goes badly wrong.<br />
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Believe it or not, it's also more important than being with your small children every second of every day.<b> You MUST have quiet time to think </b>if you're going to try to avoid that sense of guilt and failure, and you can't think and reflect with a toddler pulling at your jeans and a baby crying.<br />
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To avoid parent-guilt, you need to prioritise some time-outs for YOU, where you can either be alone to mull over the past, chat with friends who are in a similar boat or even see a therapist if your childhood was a traumatic one.<br />
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Understanding <i>why </i>is the first step to healing failure and guilt. And you will never understand why if you don't give yourself the time to reflect. Please, take that important first step!<br />
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<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-41070105483809554292013-04-03T21:18:00.001+10:002013-04-03T21:18:09.161+10:00I was looking the other wayTonight I am in a very sober mood. I am reflecting on failure tonight. It's a particular type of failure that could happen to any one of us, all while we believe we are doing our very best.<br />
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Many years ago I had the privilege of teaching music in an extremely high-quality private school. I dealt with many very talented young musicians every day, and their dilemmas were many and varied- if, for the most part, very much 'First World <br />
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Problems'.<br />
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I dealt with many adolescents who were crushed by the constant competition, shoring up their egos and their abilities and their confidence until they were in some sort of shape to pass their exams. How many hours I spent trying to defuse performance nerves!<br />
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I dealt with others whose shy talents needed my encouragement and time to flourish. I gave them that time with enthusiasm, and took great personal pride in their achievements under my watchful eye.<br />
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I dealt with many, many 'tiger mums'. They were, universally, a nightmare. I admit it: they put me off their own daughters. They prejudiced me against their offspring. And some of those young musicians didn't even need their tiger mums to help them- they did the <i>pushing </i>and the <i>competing</i> all by themselves.<br />
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I found that repellant.<br />
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In my defence, I was young. But I <i>know </i>I gave less of my time and patience to those who pushed.<br />
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I was too busy looking the other way. I thought there were others who needed me more, and I justified my decisions about how to spend my time easily. It seemed <i>right</i> to give my attention where it was needed most.<br />
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Some twenty years on from those years, today I was told that one of those young and (if truth be told) rather <i>pushy </i>prodigies- an extraordinarily talented young woman who seemed bound for concert hall success under her own steam- was dead. I know few details- nor, given my past attitude, do I deserve to- other than that it seems she killed herself.<br />
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And I sit here shocked to the core, because it never would have occurred to me in a million years that such a thing could happen to someone who seemed to have it all together from such an early age.<br />
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Now, I have no illusions of responsibility for what happened to this young woman. Mental health issues are terribly complex, and well beyond my field of expertise; perhaps the demons were circling back then, perhaps they were not. But the thought torments me that perhaps, by some miracle, my engagement with this girl way back then might have made a difference.<br />
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I am so aware of my failure all those years ago: I didn't even <i>try </i>to engage with that child as a human being. I didn't give her anything of myself, really, because I thought she had what she needed already.<br />
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I am so terribly aware that I made an assumption based on appearances alone. Because that young girl <i>appeared</i> to need me so much less than many other girls, I paid her little attention.<br />
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I thought she was okay.<br />
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Do you see where I'm heading?<br />
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I am so much older now, and so much more experienced. I've seen a lot of different scenarios, within families and within educational settings, where some children have appeared to have much greater needs than others and so have been given the lion's share of attention, resources, time and effort. I've noticed, increasingly, how much grease the squeaky wheel gets, and how easy it is to just <i>assume </i>about children who seem to be coping just fine.<br />
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I'm not saying we shouldn't invest vast time, effort and resources in those who need it. No way. Of course not.<br />
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But I do want to say this to you: every so often, <i>look the other way</i>.<br />
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A child with any sort of special need <i>does </i>need your extra help. Of course they do. And give that help you must, and you are probably completely exhausted from trying to provide as much help as you can. But every so often it's important to stop looking at that particular child, and look the other way.<br />
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One terrible true story: a parent who was so busy <i>brilliantly</i> looking after the rights and needs of one of their children, who had a special need, that they didn't notice that another of their children was being sexually abused.<br />
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Another terrible true story: the child whose academic success blinded her parents to the fact that she simply wasn't eating. At all. They were looking at only one part of their child, until she ended up in hospital on a drip.<br />
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Try not to be blinded by the obvious, as I so often was. Take the time to engage with all your children in a meaningful way, not just with the squeakiest wheel.<br />
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I don't want you to find yourself sitting many years from now, as shocked as I am, only just seeing in brilliant technicolor that<i> all </i>children have a need for our attention- whether that need screams in our ear, or just whispers a dangerous script inside a child's head until it's far too late to save them.<br />
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<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-47451407420259040422013-03-29T05:18:00.000+10:002013-03-29T05:18:08.729+10:00Guiding children's behaviour using calm words aloneHave you noticed that children rarely respond to pushing when you're trying to change their behaviour?<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jH1S-HJliMw/UVSVu3qmCRI/AAAAAAAAA9M/TlxYWwggGpI/s1600/TAFEwaylard+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jH1S-HJliMw/UVSVu3qmCRI/AAAAAAAAA9M/TlxYWwggGpI/s320/TAFEwaylard+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We'd love the playroom to look like<br />this... but more often that bin is<br />emptied all over the floor, right?</td></tr>
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They don't sweetly tidy their room because you yelled at them to pick up their Legos off the floor. (Well, not unless you've got that child so cowed by fear that they're going to grow into a bullied child or a battered wife some day.)</div>
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They don't stop playing those games with pretend guns because you banned them. (They just play them round the corner, where you can't see them.)</div>
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They don't immediately stop having an embarrassing tantrum in the supermarket aisle because you gave them a slap on the leg or the bottom. (If anything, they yell louder.)</div>
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So where do we go instead?</div>
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For mine, the answer is shining a light with your words. Try to think of yourself as the sun. If you can cast some light on the situation and show your child where the shadows are, you stand a chance that your child can feel a sense of personal control of the situation and <i>make better choices</i>.</div>
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Now, I know that's counter-intuitive for some of you! You may be feeling that your child has too much control already, or is just totally out of control! LET GO OF THAT. What you are trying to do is let your child have room to learn better choices, and they can't do that with a policeman making and enforcing the rules for them all the time. </div>
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Let me be clear here: there ARE times when you need to call a halt and be a policeman, such as when another child or an animal is getting hurt. That's an "I won't let you do that", physical-prevention moment, <i>before </i>you shine your light. </div>
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I'm talking about those moments when you're tempted to be a moralist, when a certain behaviour seems socially unacceptable to you, when you're trying to nudge your child onto a better path. That's the moment to stop yourself in your tracks and, instead of talking AT your child, turn on the light.</div>
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The magic word here is<b> NARRATION</b>. Narration just means saying exactly what you see, without interpretation or judgment. You <i>describe</i> the scene before you.</div>
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Let's say a child is constantly pushing in to get a turn on the slippery dip. Instead of a lecture, deliver a <i>description</i>.</div>
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"I see Nathan trying to push in front of Xavier. Xavier's face looks angry to me. Xavier has been waiting for his turn behind Zac, not behind Nathan."</div>
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And let them work it out. Give the power back to the children. Xavier will feel acknowledged; he may find the strength to speak up directly to Nathan, instead of pushing back. Nathan himself may wake up from his desire to have another go <i>now</i> and notice the other child's disapproval- far more powerful to him than yours! Then he has <i>the choice to change without being told</i>.</div>
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You'd be amazed how often this works.</div>
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Here's another example. A two-year-old, denied a third biscuit or a certain item off the supermarket shelf, throws herself on the floor and screams incoherently. Instead of reacting, <i>describe</i> what you see. </div>
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You might have to put your face down next to hers first, mind you, and <i>describe</i> your own difficulty: "I can't understand your words when you yell and cry. Can you take some big breaths and then tell me what you want?"</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once you use emotions' names<br />often enough, children start<br />to join the dots and can put<br />themselves into a recovery<br />space if you provide it. This<br />is an 'angry space'.</td></tr>
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Then you can describe what you <i>see.</i> "I can see that it makes you very angry, or maybe very sad, when I say no. Your angry, sad feelings are making you bang your fists and kick the floor because they are too big for your body to hold them inside. Will it help if I help you hold those big feelings? I have nice long arms if you'd like to put some of your big feelings inside them."</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ebRXQlibhS0/UVSWKNHzA5I/AAAAAAAAA9U/_DLBTcUCVcs/s1600/100_3987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ebRXQlibhS0/UVSWKNHzA5I/AAAAAAAAA9U/_DLBTcUCVcs/s320/100_3987.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this is a 'sad' recovery area.</td></tr>
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You'd be amazed how often a sobbing child ends up in your lap. Though of course, sometimes you need to be patient and wait till the child is ready to make that choice.</div>
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Narration works from birth to ease over difficult moments. The Magda Gerber approach as advocated by <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/wp-admin/index.php?page=popularity-contest.php"><b>Janet Lansbury - Elevating Childcare</b></a> and <a href="http://www.regardingbaby.org/"><b>Lisa Sunbury - Regarding Baby</b></a>, for example, show you how to use narration to calm and prepare a child who hates nappy / diaper changes by describing what you're going to do before you do it. </div>
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"I see you have a wet nappy. Now I'm going to pick you up so we can go change it."</div>
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"I'm going to take it off now- it must be uncomfortable. I see you like to have a kick when your nappy is off- that's okay! You have fun there while I pull out the wipes."</div>
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And so on. Pop on over for some great ideas and scripts for the squirmy baby.</div>
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<div>
And what about those Legos on the floor? Damn, they hurt to walk on! <i>Narrate, narrate, narrate.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I see that the Legos are covering almost the whole floor. You are obviously having a lot of fun with them. But I have a bit of a frown on my face because I am worried about how I will get to your bed to kiss you good night without hurting my feet badly. I see that the box they live in is just over there."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And walk away! Leave your child the opportunity for agency and free choice of his/her behaviour. <i>That is how they learn good choices</i>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Stop pushing</i>. It doesn't work. It encourages stubbornness, reactiveness and pushing back.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Start describing</i>. It works. It encourages cooperation, verbal instead of physical interaction and emotional intelligence.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And once you see the results, you'll rarely go back... except in those moments when you really, really need a break yourself. <i>Narrate that to yourself and your children, too.</i> Not just advice for parents- it works for childcare workers too! I used to do it often in my preschool room!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"I am feeling very upset right now, so I am taking a little time out till I can feel calm again."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I would breathe deeply. Often the children who had created the meltdown would take the hint, and start breathing along with me till the whole situation calmed down naturally.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That is a fine lesson to model!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-46278409372201325452013-02-15T09:27:00.000+10:002013-02-15T09:27:27.208+10:00Plastic-fantastic-free gift shopping for kidsLast time I blogged, I was on my high horse about ridding your house of the plastic fantastic and encouraging your kids to play independently. You can find that post <a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2013/02/15-tips-for-toy-free-play.html"><b>here</b></a> if you missed it.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ow2RdufyCW8/T7dB7bdlUrI/AAAAAAAAAVk/1UQYk37j6CU/s1600/know+what+you+want.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ow2RdufyCW8/T7dB7bdlUrI/AAAAAAAAAVk/1UQYk37j6CU/s320/know+what+you+want.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are we having fun yet?...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But hey, this is the real world! Kids have birthdays, Christmas (or your own personal gift-giving festival day, according to your faith) comes around...<br />
<br />
....and that's when stressed-out, busy mums and dads get overwhelmed. <i>Oh *expletive*, the birthday party's tomorrow... or this afternoon, heaven help me!...</i> (Well do I remember that awful moment, from my days as a working mum with an equally tired child in tow!!)<br />
<br />
That's the moment when they grab the first vaguely appropriate piece of junk they can find on the supermarket or toy shop shelves. Or, in many cases, <i>inappropriate</i> piece of junk.<br />
<br />
So I thought it would be only fair, after that last post of mine, to talk about some possibilities for junk-free present shopping.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Presents that encourage outdoor play</u></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
A toy that encourages kids to get outside, run around, use their muscles and develop hand-eye, gross motor or fine motor co-ordination is almost never a mistake. Do make a call and check with parents that some of these are appropriate for their family culture and environment, though.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Balls</b> of any shape and size are always going over fences or being punctured by the dog and needing replacement. Check what ball games the child enjoys.<br />
<br />
<b>Game sets</b>- cricket, boules, T-ball, badminton, volleyball, indoor 'soft' alley bowling for families with a hallway, even lawn bowls- encourage families to interact.<br />
<br />
<b>Blow-up punching bags</b>- the sort you put sand or water in the bottom of, so they bounce up again- can be a hoot, and they help very active or frustrated kids channel aggression away from hitting other children or throwing things. (These can be particularly helpful with children who are enmeshed in a family crisis such as divorce or illness- things that are out of the child's control.)<br />
<br />
<b>Skipping ropes</b>, especially longer ones that encourage children to team up and take turns, seem to be unusual enough these days to spark up children's curiosity. (NB: Always supervise skipping games to ensure ropes don't end up being used inappropriately- actively teach safety considerations.)<br />
<br />
<b>Real tools for gardening</b>, including seeds and seedlings of edible plants or beautiful flowers, can encourage good eating habits and a sense of beauty, as well as being great fun and giving the child a sense of 'ownership' of the outdoors.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Presents that encourage creativity</u></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
There are two main 'big hints' I want to give you here.<br />
<br />
One: <b>OPEN-ENDED</b> toys encourage creativity. The less defined the purpose of the present is, the more it encourages creative thought.<br />
<br />
Two: <b>CHILDREN LOVE REAL TOOLS</b>. Never buy plastic fantastic when you could buy the real thing instead.<br />
<br />
<b>Small open-ended building kits</b>, such as <b>Legos</b> (avoid the gender specific ones, please!) which start as an exercise in following instructions and then eventually become something other than what's on the box, make great gifts.<br />
<br />
Balsa wood <b>dinosaur, insect and aeroplane kits</b> can fit in with a child's interests, as can plastic <b>model boats and planes</b> to build and paint. The 'creative' part is not so much in the construction- that's more a fine motor skill builder and a lesson in multi-step direction following- as in the <i>decoration</i>, so supply paints as well if they're not part of the kit.<br />
<br />
Don't assume that a girl won't enjoy constructing something like this, either. I used to be horribly jealous of all the building kits given to my brother.<br />
<br />
<b>Craft kits</b>- jewellery making, gift card making, anything at all that provides the materials and tools but preferably doesn't give a blueprint for <i>exactly</i> what the end product should look like- can entrance a child for hours.<br />
<br />
Again, don't assume that a boy won't enjoy that sort of present.<br />
<br />
<b>An inexpensive digital camera</b> - and I'm not talking about one slathered with Disney princesses or Spiderman- is a wonderful present for a child. I've found this a particularly useful gift for children with special needs, such as autism. Looking through a camera lens is often far less threatening than looking a person in the eye.<br />
<br />
<b>Cookware, and I'm talking about real tools.</b> Children adore having their own real stuff for baking. A wise friend of mine, knowing that my boy LOVED cooking, gave him a set of small Victorinox kitchen knives before he was even in his teens. I don't remember him ever cutting himself, and he treasured them with a passion- I suspect he still does today. At times when she had less money to throw around, she'd contribute smaller items like a garlic peeler or mortar and pestle, which were received with almost equal joy.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sLOo715AsSY/TQmwctT70jI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ePCigAmDFXw/s1600/100_0337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sLOo715AsSY/TQmwctT70jI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ePCigAmDFXw/s320/100_0337.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wild animal prints were a big hit.<br />
From the op shop!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Dress-ups</b> don't have to be purchased from a toy shop. Go to an op shop (thrift shop), or check out your own wardrobe for fun items you don't use any more. My mother's cousin's old cocktail dress was a gift I enjoyed for many, many years, and you KNOW how kids love 'real' handbags and shoes.<br />
<br />
<b>Hide-outs </b>such as tents, or do-it-yourself kits made from op shop-purchased lace curtains with big bulldog clips or string ties to secure them to trees or tables or doorknobs, can provide hours of fantasy play.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2uvwqpErcJ0/TWhsZKeopmI/AAAAAAAAAFY/mTduIdSn4aQ/s1600/100_3996.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2uvwqpErcJ0/TWhsZKeopmI/AAAAAAAAAFY/mTduIdSn4aQ/s320/100_3996.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How the kids loved Mr Crocodile...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Puppets</b> are something that every child needs to own. Sometimes a puppet will tell you something that the child can't let out through their own lips... and sometimes it is better to act out a conflict with a puppet than to put a child 'on the spot'. (NB: I have purchased quite a few mint condition puppets from op shops, much more cheaply than the new price!)<br />
<br />
<b>Add-ons for existing open-ended collections </b>can extend play in new directions. An extra few pieces of wooden Brio train set were always welcome gifts for my son.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Presents that encourage intellectual growth</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
(NB: With all these presents, it's a good idea to be sure not just of the target child's chronological age but of their <b>mental age</b>. My gifted child was doing jigsaws, playing board games and reading books <i>many</i> years above the suggested appropriate age level, so know your child- or purchase a voucher instead.)<br />
<br />
<b>Books</b> are another sure-fire, non-junk present. Always subtly take along the receipt in your bag, in case the book is a double-up and needs to be changed- or get a <b>book voucher</b> instead, and let the shopping trip be part of the extended joy.<br />
<br />
<b>Jigsaws</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>are another winner for kids who enjoy them.<br />
<br />
<b>Strategy board games and card games</b> can be another big hit with slightly older children. You can get simple card games for younger children too, like Happy Families or Go Fish. These have the advantage of encouraging socialisation and family time.<br />
<br />
<b>How-to guides</b> are another present that can centre on a child's interests- how to make a paper plane, fold origami, create tole work, play chess, do bush crafts such as making an outdoor shelter from branches, etc etc... these can be treasured parts of a child's library for many years.<br />
<br />
<b>A piggy bank with a donation of lots of your loose change inside</b> encourages delayed gratification and teaches great life skills, as well as encouraging maths skills as child tries to work out how much he/she has been given and what they can spend it on.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Personal furnishings and accessories</u></b><br />
<br />
(<b>Hint:</b> steer clear of branded character goods, eg Disney princesses and action heroes. That 'closes' the child's imagination regarding the function of the item and also affects the child's moods and behaviour when using that item.)<br />
<br />
A special <b>oversized cushion</b> can be both comforting and fun. Small cushions in appealing colours and designs are also very popular, and can be used for dolls as well as kids.<br />
<br />
A <b>personal chair</b>- whether a beanbag (avoid in houses with children under 3 years), beach chair with drink holder or a child-sized foam lounge- can be treasured for years and used for dolls and teddies when the child grows out of it.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-McCCqnBOVwM/UQ3fdfFaQ2I/AAAAAAAAA3w/utfWMr0MQ8Y/s1600/100_0292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-McCCqnBOVwM/UQ3fdfFaQ2I/AAAAAAAAA3w/utfWMr0MQ8Y/s320/100_0292.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even a satin sheet from the op shop... <br />
can be the sea! Or a tent... or... And the<br />
rainbow scrap was much in demand.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Soft, cuddly, child-sized throws and material scraps</b> of various sizes- I just visit the remnants bin at Spotlight and hem them up on my sewing machine- can provide quilts and tents for dolls, scenery for imaginative play (the sea, the sand, the rocks, the flower garden), cuddlies for nap time, symbols for moods (I had a volcanic red we used for anger, a sunny yellow for joy, and a cool blue for sadness in my preschool room, and the kids really got into it) or just a beloved mat for curling up on and dreaming. A whole rainbow of coloured, textured scraps can really excite a creatively-minded child.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Outings, interest and special need presents</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b>Tickets for the child to accompany you or one of his parents to a live show, the zoo or another fun venue </b>are lovely presents if you can afford them, and can provide weeks of excited conversation afterwards.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2c_nRxYTzUU/T4tiY_ArFrI/AAAAAAAAARg/Q2ZPI1p3pIs/s1600/no+pin+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2c_nRxYTzUU/T4tiY_ArFrI/AAAAAAAAARg/Q2ZPI1p3pIs/s320/no+pin+2.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camel ride, anyone?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>A special outing with you, the giver, and your child to a cafe or restaurant, or to an outdoor 'adventure' of some kind</b> can be both relieving for the parents and a memorable experience for the child.<br />
<br />
<b>An iTunes gift card </b>has never, to my knowledge, been rejected by a teenager. It's a gift that keeps on giving and it doesn't matter if you double up or give the same thing many years in a row. Music is an important part of a teenager's growing sense of identity and can be very comforting for a confused, angry or sad child.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OQKSG8tQyOs/T5n8OkI_V3I/AAAAAAAAASg/50fazadXWQc/s1600/100_1865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OQKSG8tQyOs/T5n8OkI_V3I/AAAAAAAAASg/50fazadXWQc/s320/100_1865.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It doesn't have to be a puppy- sometimes<br />
a fully grown animal is a better choice.<br />
And go to pounds and refuges, not pet <br />
shops please!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>A companion animal</b> can be a saving grace for a child who is having trouble with friendships.<br />
<br />
NEVER BUY A CHILD A PET WITHOUT CONSULTING THE PARENTS. But do consider how an animal to care for, to love and be loved by, can transform a child's life.<br />
<br />
**********************<br />
<br />
Well, that's all very well when you're doing the buying. But how do we prevent well-meaning friends and relatives from cluttering our own homes up with the plastic fantastic twice a year?<br />
<br />
<b><u>Avoidance strategies</u></b><br />
<br />
Think ahead!<br />
<br />
When you write the invitations for the birthday party, consider inserting a short but subtly worded note which includes thoughtful gift suggestions and plenty of flexibility in price and gift style. Something like this.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Here are some quick-fire gift ideas for (name) to help you avoid that ghastly gift-shopping experience!</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Children's book store voucher</i><br />
<i>iTunes card- (name) would love to expand his Wiggles music collection!</i><br />
<i>Piggy bank with 'donation' of your loose change inside</i><br />
<i>Anything to encourage outdoor play, craft or building</i><br />
<i>Interests: he enjoys cooking with real tools and cookbooks</i><br />
<i>Invitation to join you at a cafe, restaurant or other child-friendly outing (please, no fast food)</i><br />
<i>Tickets to a sporting event, music concert or movie (G-rated only please)</i><br />
<i>If you'd really like to buy (name) a toy, he currently collects Matchbox cars.</i><i>"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And there's no reason in the world that you can't prime people at Christmas, too. Discuss with your family and any Christmas Day guests what gifts would be most helpful and appropriate for your children- or even go gift-free for a year. Make it easy on people- perhaps you could have a year where everyone from outside the immediate family buys your children book vouchers only?<br />
<br />
NB: <i>discuss your change of gift-receiving plan with your children before the big day</i>! We don't want any meltdowns! A mega-shopping excursion to the bookshop can be presented as something exciting to look forward to- you could even take the kids on a preselection trip, where they can look for what they'd like to purchase if they get enough vouchers.<br />
<br />
You may find that having these open discussions <i>well before the gift buying frenzy takes place</i> helps to open up your own relationships with family members too, and makes that special day less stressful for everyone.<br />
<br />
Be honest, but tactful, when talking to gift givers. <b>Don't refer to failed presents from previous years</b>- instead refer to what your child was really excited by and used over and over again.<br />
<br />
Remind, gently, about any house rules (eg no junk/allergy producing food, no character-branded goods, no sexism, no screens, no PVC plastics, nothing that needs batteries, or whatever is your own particular bete noir). <i>Always </i>explain <i>why </i>you have decided that, <b>with your emphasis on how it affects the child's behaviour or wellbeing</b> (nobody really wants to damage your child, do they?).<br />
<br />
Try not to go over the top- keep it short and sweet.<br />
<br />
MINIMISE PREACHING YOUR PHILOSOPHY. "We believe" statements sound judgmental and patronising, and can inspire people to get back at you for making them feel bad by ignoring what you want! Concentrate on explaining your child's needs.<br />
<br />
******************<br />
<br />
Well, that's about enough from me. What can you add to my list? What are some great, non-junky presents that your kids have just <i>loved </i>and that haven't driven you crazy?<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-57651880337165522142013-02-03T14:06:00.000+10:002013-02-16T14:57:31.992+10:0015 tips for toy-free play<b>A toy-free play scenario</b><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bZHAOZmlJHg/UQ3ddB3LoJI/AAAAAAAAA24/f9bFOH-9W3M/s1600/no+pin+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bZHAOZmlJHg/UQ3ddB3LoJI/AAAAAAAAA24/f9bFOH-9W3M/s320/no+pin+1.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look, Mum- no toys! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I wasn't feeling at all well when I walked into Centrelink. I was hoping that my paperwork would be processed quickly and I could get out of there and go home.<br />
<br />
It wasn't to be, of course. It was lunchtime; the queues were long and the staffing was short. I sat down, resigned to a lengthy wait.<br />
<br />
And then the entertainment started.<br />
<br />
The two indigenous children were completely focussed on their game. The four-year-old stood right in the beam of the electronic door opener, oblivious to the clunk-clunk of the door opening and shutting behind him. He clasped his hands, raised them over his head, swung them over his shoulder and waited.<br />
<br />
At the opposite end of the carpet, right in front of me, the two-year-old knew his role. He clapped his cupped hands together, drew his arm back. Delivered.<br />
<br />
WHACK! The four-year-old's arms flew forwards, and he took off around the foyer, long hair flying. Skittered behind a pole and slid his feet forwards, landed triumphantly on his backside.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile the two-year-old was racing forwards, arms in the air. His silent grin said it all. <i>CAUGHT IT! You're OUT!</i><br />
<br />
The two swapped roles then, and the impromptu baseball game continued. There was not a bat or a ball or a base in sight. The children were completely absorbed, completely silent other than the sound of their feet padding along the carpet.<br />
<br />
Nobody told them to stop. They weren't bothering anyone, even when careering wildly round their imaginary diamond. I watched, hypnotised by their complete focus.<br />
<br />
Their mother, waiting her turn at the counter in another corner, hardly glanced their way. She didn't feel a need to hand her children a phone or an iPad to entertain them. She didn't give them a colourful, branded toy to try to keep them quiet. She trusted them to entertain themselves, and they did.<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
They entertained me, too. And I applauded that mother silently for her good sense, and for her ability to trust her children to know how to play.<br />
<br />
When the game of baseball finally ended, Mum handed one of them a torn envelope from the counter. That's all. The two of them explored that for some time, opening it out along its seams and trying to put it back together.<br />
<br />
After a while, the younger child approached me and handed me the envelope. (Yes, naturally I'd been talking to them both as they played their game- I can't help myself!)<br />
<br />
"Can you fold it up?" asked the older.<br />
<br />
I extracted a little more information about what they wanted before folding the paper back into its envelope shape. That spurred a short game of 'Postman', with the letter being delivered, opened and 'read' several times.<br />
<br />
We were still waiting. The queue inched forward.<br />
<br />
When 'Postman' lost its charms, the children started trying to project the folded envelope through the air. My partner, chuckling beside me, couldn't help himself.<br />
<br />
"Do you want a jet?" he asked, and when they nodded, quickly folded the paper into plane shape with a quick tutorial on how to throw it.<br />
<br />
That absorbed the two children for another five minutes, until my name was called.<br />
<br />
I'd forgotten I was feeling sick; I was grinning my head off. Those children had waited in a completely non-child-friendly environment for the best part of half an hour with absolutely no toys and hardly any adult input, and they'd entertained themselves completely happily.<br />
<br />
Did they climb on the furniture? Yes, occasionally, to throw their jets from higher up. Nobody turned a hair. It wasn't a national disaster.<br />
<br />
Did they fight? Yes, once, over whose turn it was to post the letter. Hair was pulled. There was a single yelp.<br />
<br />
"Stop fighting," said Mum, and they did.<br />
<br />
"Whose turn is it?" I asked when they looked to me, and they immediately sorted it out themselves.<br />
<br />
Those two children knew how to play. They knew how to play <i>regardless </i>of where they were and what resources they had. There was not a single whine in half an hour.<br />
<br />
Do you wish your kids could do that?<br />
<br />
*************************<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sh0cjASJ5wI/UQ3dyopnUxI/AAAAAAAAA3A/jy8jkMKrUF0/s1600/100_0310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sh0cjASJ5wI/UQ3dyopnUxI/AAAAAAAAA3A/jy8jkMKrUF0/s320/100_0310.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before Happy Meals, didn't kids<br />
collect shells?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So let's just recap this. Here we are in the welfare centre of town, watching two small children from financially disadvantaged backgrounds entertaining themselves happily and independently, <i>without toys, </i>for half an hour while their mother waits to be served.<br />
<br />
SO. What was going <i>right </i>here, and how come we so often get it wrong when it comes to children's play? Why do we believe that children must be entertained all the time, lest they become some sort of nuisance? Why are we, who are so much better off than this impoverished mum, so quick to hand over the iPhone or to fill children's hands with cookies or toys when we have to wait in line?<br />
<br />
Why are our houses full of plastic junk?<br />
<br />
Why can't we trust our children to find a way to play <i>without</i> a pile of plastic junk?<br />
<br />
<b>What can we change,</b> to help our children to play as independently as the two children in Centrelink?<br />
<br />
***************************<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Aunt Annie's hints to encourage toy-free, independent play</b><br />
<br />
The first thing I'd note about what I saw in Centrelink is that at some stage in these two children's lives, an adult has taken the time to play a ball game with them and teach them the rules. Someone has run around outdoors with these kids and inculcated a love of a particular game.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nrNSEa4M7-A/UQ3eHu0XwUI/AAAAAAAAA3I/r49Qe3G7_LU/s1600/100_0249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nrNSEa4M7-A/UQ3eHu0XwUI/AAAAAAAAA3I/r49Qe3G7_LU/s320/100_0249.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have no idea what the rules were.<br />
But all we needed was a ball, and a<br />
stick of bamboo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>1. Get outdoors with your kids. </b><br />
If your kids are getting stroppy, take them outdoors and run around with them. You will ALL feel better. Go to the park, the beach, into the woods- anywhere outdoors where they have room to move and have their own space. You'll probably find them inventing their own toy-free games in no time.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Spend time with them. </b><br />
Be present when you play with your kids. Put the phone away. Talk to them. Ask them questions. Play toy-free games like hide and seek, chasings, What's The Time, Mr Wolf? or building cushion forts.<br />
<br />
<b>3. Play games with them, including games with rules. </b><br />
Don't assume kids are 'too young' for simple games or sports with rules. Start with the basics, and be flexible.<br />
<br />
<b>4. Be enthusiastic, and don't take things too seriously. </b><br />
Remember it's a game! Have fun. It doesn't matter who wins.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tRZI90n2Mhg/UQ3edpExn-I/AAAAAAAAA3Q/pmlIT49yfPY/s1600/100_0270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tRZI90n2Mhg/UQ3edpExn-I/AAAAAAAAA3Q/pmlIT49yfPY/s320/100_0270.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Build and decorate a sand castle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>5. Build their play vocabulary by doing new things with them.</b><br />
What toy-free games did you play as a child? Do that with your kids. Go climb a tree, or go fishing, or dig holes in the garden.<br />
<br />
The second thing I'd note is that these children didn't have an expectation of being entertained AND their mother trusted them to play by themselves. Right from the start, they made their own fun. They found something to do, using their vivid imaginations. That game of baseball was real to them- you could see it in their eyes.<br />
<br />
<b>6. Stop entertaining your children.</b><br />
Right from birth, you can stop worrying about keeping your child entertained. JUST STOP IT. Even a baby has plenty to occupy its mind, learning how its hands and feet work. The correct answer to "I'm bored" is "Are you?". Full stop. Don't make suggestions!<br />
<br />
<b>7. Trust them to find something to do.</b><br />
Honestly, if you stop filling the gaps, they WILL find something to do. They need to explore the inside of their heads till they find something that interests them.<br />
<br />
<b>8. Provide opportunities, not answers.</b><br />
If you listen and allow them to do what they want in their play if humanly possible, you are halfway there. Ask questions till you find out what they need to help them play; provide that opportunity if you can, as long as it doesn't involve a trip to the shops!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UUZQwfdl2qc/UQ3erS5kKvI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/UK1Brknv1Dg/s1600/Nana+Melvaine_0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UUZQwfdl2qc/UQ3erS5kKvI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/UK1Brknv1Dg/s320/Nana+Melvaine_0004.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acting out songs- fun, and toy-free.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>9. Encourage imagination.</b><br />
Be playful. Read books together, and refer to ideas out of those books. Pretend to be characters with them. Act out scenarios with them. Let them dress up in your old clothes.<br />
<br />
<b>10. Allow yourself to be silent.</b><br />
Sometimes the best help you can give children who want to play is to butt out and be quiet. If in doubt, say nothing and WAIT.<br />
<br />
The third thing I'd note is that there wasn't a toy in sight. The only 'plaything' offered to these kids was a torn envelope; otherwise they used their imaginations and, occasionally, the furniture.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OWf70qy8I74/UQ3e9uOUCuI/AAAAAAAAA3g/csmstt_TZ_k/s1600/Photo+on+2012-01-13+at+15.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OWf70qy8I74/UQ3e9uOUCuI/AAAAAAAAA3g/csmstt_TZ_k/s200/Photo+on+2012-01-13+at+15.52.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See that? That's a TOY. It didn't<br />
cost a cent. But kids will play<br />
with found items for hours.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>11. Stop buying toys- especially brightly coloured, character-themed and gender-specific ones.</b><br />
I have seen miracles happen when I took children away from all the plastic fantastic and let them loose outdoors instead, with few or no toys. End the clutter. Take a trip to the op shop or the tip. Stop consuming.<br />
<br />
(Note: since writing this post, I've added another with tips about how to stop buying this garbage and having it bought for your kids- you can find it <u><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2013/02/plastic-fantastic-free-shopping-for.html">HERE.</a></u>)<br />
<b><br /></b>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gVdat00QT8s/UQ3fQ9FdIiI/AAAAAAAAA3o/2yIVG3fXDW0/s1600/100_0238-003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gVdat00QT8s/UQ3fQ9FdIiI/AAAAAAAAA3o/2yIVG3fXDW0/s200/100_0238-003.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children love to play with real tools.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<b>12. Offer household resources instead of toys.</b><br />
Pots and pans and lids and wooden spoons are toys. (No, you don't need to buy a toddler a drum kit.) Writing equipment is a toy. A chair can be a toy. Think creatively, and don't be so precious about your household stuff. Kids love to play with real tools- you are SURROUNDED by appropriate toys.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-McCCqnBOVwM/UQ3fdfFaQ2I/AAAAAAAAA3w/utfWMr0MQ8Y/s1600/100_0292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-McCCqnBOVwM/UQ3fdfFaQ2I/AAAAAAAAA3w/utfWMr0MQ8Y/s320/100_0292.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That is not a sheet. That is the ocean.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>13. Be flexible about how your kids use the furniture and household goods.</b><br />
While your kids are young is no time to be auditioning for a House and Garden photo shoot. Let them make forts out of the cushions and play hide-and-seek under the table. Put away the precious stuff, and relax already!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-95Rkj1lqV4s/UQ3gC_IM2MI/AAAAAAAAA4A/hceJJgWltaI/s1600/risky+play+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="121" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-95Rkj1lqV4s/UQ3gC_IM2MI/AAAAAAAAA4A/hceJJgWltaI/s320/risky+play+day.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old mattress, repurposed as a gym mat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>14. Recycle household rubbish as toys, including furniture and technological equipment.</b><br />
An old CD player or phone and a screwdriver can keep an older child entertained for hours. Ask your kids if they'd like to play with things before you throw them out- you might be surprised. I'll say it again... children<i> love</i> to play with real tools and real household items.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g7-zWz9GZ74/UQ3fxlIgjTI/AAAAAAAAA34/Xwa7-WAtljw/s1600/100_0111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g7-zWz9GZ74/UQ3fxlIgjTI/AAAAAAAAA34/Xwa7-WAtljw/s320/100_0111.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A child who shows interest in making sounds<br />
on the piano? Offer a step up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>15. Offer your support to play, rather than directing or ignoring it- help kids go to the next level of understanding.</b><br />
If you see your kids' play going round and round in circles- if frustration is setting in- that's the time to step in and quietly offer a step up to the next level (like showing them how to make or throw a paper plane). Then quietly step back again while they master the skill. Offer yourself, not STUFF!<br />
<br />
Well, there you are. Are you ready to declutter your house and trust your children to entertain themselves? Go on- try it!<br />
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<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-87972219788558998702012-12-28T14:06:00.003+10:002012-12-28T14:06:40.684+10:00Power, parenting and 'solving' gun violenceThere has been much said and written about solutions to the spate of school shooting tragedies in the USA. "Better gun laws," cries one faction. "More guns in schools," cries another. "Better mental health care," cries a third. And so on.<br />
<br />
When a young man goes berserk with a firearm and kills innocent children, I guess it's natural to look for a single reason so we can feel comfortable that we<i> understand </i>what happened. It's natural to seek a<i> </i>simple<i> </i>solution so we can focus blame where we think it's due, tell someone how to fix it, and move on.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, we humans have a tendency to focus our attention on<b> </b>whatever 'answer' fits best with our world view. That much is predictable.<br />
<br />
So, for example, the recreational shooters will call for armed guards in schools, while the pacifists call for stricter gun control. The parents of the mentally ill will see terrifying parallels with their own situation, and call for more help from a dysfunctional health system. What I'm saying is that in pushing for a solution,<i> </i>we tend to follow our own agenda.<br />
<br />
I get frustrated by that. I think that it's a doomed approach. <i>Nothing</i> will get fixed while people follow conflicting personal agendas, even though many of those agendas are sound and would probably help the situation. It'll all get bogged down in rhetoric, politics, finance and administration. Anyone who's been on any committee knows that, whether it was a school fundraiser or a local club. Once people start pushing personal barrows, that's the end of consensus.<br />
<br />
But I'm not saying that it's <i>no use</i> trying to fix it. I'm not saying there's nothing we can do. Quite the opposite!<br />
<br />
I'm saying that if we want a <i>real </i>solution, we have to look deeper than weapons and psychiatric issues. Half the trouble with solving big problems is agreeing on what the question is, and we humans are notoriously bad at that. We need to get off our hobby horses, stop blaming and start finding a <i>question</i> we can agree on that helps us solve what happened at Sandy Hook, Columbine, Nickel Mines and the rest.<br />
<br />
To solve this problem, I believe we have to look at what drives young men (the perpetrators are almost exclusively <i>young</i> men) to do these things. We have to look at motivations.<br />
<br />
Here is what I think the real question looks like.<br />
<br />
<b>How can we stop young men from thinking that picking up a gun and killing people is an acceptable answer to their personal problem?</b><br />
<br />
Does anyone disagree that that's the question?<br />
<br />
With the exception perhaps of psychopaths, children are not born like that. It was <i>our society</i> that made them seek a violent solution to a problem that was too big for them to deal with. It was the 'normal' that was presented to those individuals. <i>We</i> are 'our society', and it's <i>everyone's</i> responsibility to fix it.<br />
<br />
Here are some ways we can contribute to the solution. It's not a quick fix. It's not easy. It's not even the whole answer. But it does, at least, address the <i>root</i> of the problem.<br />
<br />
<b>1. We can be very, very careful how we use our own power as adults and as parents.</b><br />
<br />
Children first learn to misuse power by watching their parents; they continue to learn by watching their teachers.<br />
<br />
If we respond to personal frustration by inflicting pain on children- by spanking them, by verbally abusing them, by making them feel small and powerless- we are role-modelling violent behaviour towards innocent children. THAT is what happened in Connecticut, as well as in many other school shootings. Young men responded to personal frustration by being violent towards innocent children. Somewhere, these young men <i>learned</i> that violence towards a less powerful person was the answer.<br />
<br />
If we can see our own abusive, violent behaviour for what it is instead of labelling it as 'discipline', as if the name somehow purifies it, we are contributing to a solution.<br />
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<b>2. We can give our children power in safe and age-appropriate ways.</b><br />
<br />
If children feel powerless, they will sometimes become adults who seek power in inappropriate ways and at a terrible cost.<br />
<br />
Children need to have choices. If we make every decision for them, they won't learn to make good decisions. Children need to be able to make small mistakes, to safeguard them against making big ones. And we need to be there to support them as they make their small mistakes- not to ridicule them.<br />
<br />
If we constantly frustrate children's desires, their frustration <i>will</i> eventually burst forth. If we are constantly saying 'NO', they will find a way to say 'YES' one day- and they may not be particularly discriminating in what they say 'yes' to.<br />
<br />
The teacher who is authoritarian and didactic is just as dangerous as the parent who doesn't recognise their own child's individuality and humanity. The only reason the gun lobby gets away with the dogma of 'Guns don't kill people- people kill people' is because there's a grain of truth in it. If we dominate children to the extent that we create seething resentment against the system and all who dwell in it, we are creating potential 'people who kill people'.<br />
<br />
<b>3. We can model empathy and downplay perfection. </b><br />
<br />
We can express fellow-feeling for even those humans we don't know personally. We can be kind to others, for no other reason than that it's the right thing to do.<br />
<br />
None of us is perfect; we all stuff up. We can admit that in front of our children, and we can reframe difficult situations by looking at them from the other person's point of view. There but for the grace of God...<br />
<br />
One thing we can assume about all the school shooters: they all felt so much a failure that they now craved notoriety rather than success. And we <i>know</i> that they felt no empathy.<br />
<br />
<b>4. We can model healthy methods of coping with stress and frustration.</b><br />
<br />
We can teach that a hot bath, a quiet chat with friends, a hug, a good book, more sleep and empathy for our seeming enemies can be more constructive than ranting, swearing, overeating, fisticuffs or verbal abuse.<br />
<br />
We can <i>try</i> to behave better ourselves, and we can apologise and talk through what happened when we fail- <i>in front of our children</i>. We can stop behaving as though every little frustration is a calamity, and we can stop modelling 'giving up'.<br />
<br />
We can <i>actively</i> teach that time is a great healer, and that sometimes bad things lead to good things. We can show that obstacles sometimes spur us on to help ourselves become better people, and that a blinkered approach to our goals, where failure is seen as a catastrophe, can lead to us missing out on a lot of good things along the way.<br />
<br />
<b>5. We can be careful how we advertise, praise and glorify violence. </b><br />
<br />
Oh, that sounds weird. But you know, we<i> do</i> all that. It's quite culturally acceptable. And 'culture' is <i>us</i>.<br />
<br />
Some of us own guns. We need to be careful not only about how we store them, but about how we use them and how we 'advertise' them to our children.<br />
<br />
Killing animals for sport, in my view, is advertising violence and modelling a lack of empathy to children. Target shooting at people-shaped targets is modelling that it's okay to shoot at people. We need to be thoughtful in <i>how </i>we use a gun if we have one.<br />
<br />
Regretfully putting a dying animal out of its misery is something completely different. Using a firearm to kill an animal quickly and with minimum pain to use for food is probably much more ethical than buying nicely-sealed trays at the supermarket, if you are a meat eater. These uses of a gun are able to be supported by logic which can be shared with children. You cannot give a logical explanation to a child about why you shot an animal for 'sport' or why you are shooting at a 'human' target.<br />
<br />
Then, of course, there's war. This can be a really hard one for some families. Maybe a member of the family is in the military. Maybe you regard the war your country is fighting as good and honourable. But <i>be very careful how much you praise the concept.</i> Your children are listening. Make sure you discuss the war with your children, and explain <i>why</i> you think it's right or wrong. Be careful how you define 'enemy'.<br />
<br />
NB: 'Revenge' is not a concept worthy of advertising to your children. Shooters in tragedies often have some warped concept of 'revenge' in their heads. Make sure you didn't help put it there.<br />
<br />
And then there's the violent video game. I don't subscribe to the view that video games turn normal children into sociopaths, even some of the edgier ones; my own son went through a phase of enjoying some titles that I really would rather he hadn't got involved with, and I'm happy to say that he's very far from a sociopath. Many 'nerdy' children find these games to be no more than an absorbing diversion.<br />
<br />
However there are some children who already have real-life social issues, and I believe those children can lose touch with reality when allowed to shoot virtual enemies. Know your child, and if that child has social coping issues please<i> don't </i>use violent video games as a babysitter. Address your children's relationship issues; teach them some problem-solving strategies. Shooting people is <i>not</i> a problem-solving strategy, yet that's the path which was chosen by those young men in Sandy Hook and Columbine and other sites of tragedy.<br />
<br />
Be careful not only in what you say yourself, but in what you allow into your home via the media. Turn the TV off if it's playing endless re-runs of war, the latest school shooting, an assassination. Don't buy the paper if it's full of death and destruction. Keep the computer in a public area and monitor what your child is looking at when tragedies happen. The media talks up the perpetrators of violence until they acquire celebrity status, and that's a problem, but it's a two way street and <i>we</i> have responsibility too. The media put it out there, but they are just responding to us; <i>we gobble it up</i>. Stop gobbling.<br />
<br />
Last, but definitely not least,<br />
<br />
<b>6. We can advocate for peaceful parenting, peacefully, outside our own comfortable little bubble.</b><br />
<br />
Oh, it's so easy to preach to the converted. It's so easy for me, for example, to write this, knowing my followers tend to agree with my views.<br />
<br />
But what if I go over to, say, 'Circle of Mums', where spanking is still seen as an acceptable method of discipline by many members? What if I go back to 'Essential Baby', where I was flamed for advocating peaceful parenting methods? What if I make a point of<i> </i>offering an alternative, peacefully and without judgment, when I see a friend or a stranger treating their child without respect?<br />
<br />
Am I prepared to be unpopular, just to make sure people know there's an alternative to hitting and shouting and verbally abusing their children? I know I won't 'convert' the hard-liners, but what if some other people are quietly reading, looking for a different answer, and all that comes up on the thread is violence and power plays? Do I have the<i> time </i>to be part of the solution?<br />
<br />
I <i>have</i> to have time, or I'm a hypocrite. I'm just mouthing words without doing what I can to change things.<br />
<br />
What about you? Do you have time to do what you can? Do you have time to be part of the solution, instead of part of the problem?<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-56160243966202646932012-11-28T16:48:00.001+10:002012-11-28T16:48:08.900+10:00This is what love looks like.A while ago I wrote about a little chap called 'Luke', who was pulling down the girls' pants, punching other children and generally being a holy terror. I told you about how I used gentle discipline techniques to break through his violent behaviour, till I got to the feelings underneath.<br />
<br />
Here's a bit of a taste of what happened that day, months ago.<br />
<br />
"<i>...he struggles and shouts as I carry him over to the quiet area, where we can sit down. "Put me down! You're hurting my gizzards!" he yells, but I've been caught by that one before and watched him dance off laughing as I've let him go, fearful lest I be accused of rough handling.</i><br />
<i><br />Not this time. I know my hold isn't painful, I know I'm not being rough, though he's a well-grown, muscular boy and awkward to carry. I make it to the bench, sit down with him on my lap.</i><br />
<i><br />"I WANNA PLAY!" he shouts. "LET ME GO!"</i><br />
<i><br />His voice is loud in my ear, but he's not struggling. My hold around his waist is firm, but my hands are gentle.</i><br />
<i><br />"LET GO OF ME!"</i><br />
<i><br />"We need to sit here till you can stop talking with your hands," I say quietly. "It's okay to feel angry. But you need to say it with your mouth, not your hands. It's not okay to hit, and it's really, really not okay to pull the girls' pants down."</i><br />
<i><br />I stroke his arm silently till he stops yelling and relaxes a little, resigned to being kept here for the moment. I unfold his clenched fist and run it softly over the back of my hand.</i><br />
<i><br />"I need you to use gentle hands, like this," I say.</i><br />
<i><br />And I use my gentle hands to stroke his back as I hold him, trying to speak the message without any more words. He gets words thrown at him all day by the adults. He deflects words easily, staring boldly into your eyes while he goes right ahead doing the wrong thing.</i><br />
<i><br />But when I talk to him through my gentle hands, Luke starts to cry. Not angry tears, but great big heartbroken sobs. As he sits there shuddering on my lap, it's as though he shrinks back into his real size, his real age; he's not some monster, some oversized schoolyard bully towering over his peers. He's a vulnerable four-year-old child, confused and not understanding how to fit into his world."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>(You can read the whole post <b><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2012/08/i-wont-give-up-on-you-connecting-with.html">here</a></b> if you didn't already see it.)<br />
<br />
I wanted to remind you of Luke today, because I know that sometimes we get <i>so</i> frustrated by trying to use peaceful discipline. Sometimes kids behave <i>so</i> badly that it seems easier to just let go of our own self-control and spank, or shout, or punish. Often it <i>looks </i>like that's working better, and more quickly- especially with repeat offenders.<br />
<br />
But I have an update for you about Luke, and I think it's important.<br />
<br />
Since the day I wrote that post, which was over three months ago, I haven't seen Luke. I've been too sick to work. Before that, I'd only seen Luke very infrequently- perhaps once or twice a month. I'm only the casual relief. I've had the most minimal chance to make any impact on his world, or on his way of understanding things.<br />
<br />
I would have expected that that little incident would have faded from Luke's memory long ago. I would have expected that I had made no difference at all to him, in the long term.<br />
<br />
But when I dropped in to that workplace today, to talk to the director about my illness, the very first person I saw when I opened the door was Luke. There he was, rolling about on the floor with some other boys, engaged in some ongoing and highly energetic play scenario.<br />
<br />
And then he spotted me. He jumped out of those cushions, flew across the room and threw his arms around my legs. He hugged me like his life depended on it.<br />
<br />
Gentle reader, this is <i>not</i> a child who greets people by hugging them. This is a child who gets off the bus and punches you as he walks by.<br />
<br />
(Hard.)<br />
<br />
Of course, I just about cracked up on the spot. I've rarely been so surprised or so touched by a child's sudden display of affection. I pulled myself together though, smiled, ruffled his hair, had a quiet word with him and moved on to do what I'd come for.<br />
<br />
Later, driving away, I started to think about what I'd just seen. This is a child from a terribly disrupted background. Dad's been in jail, mum's barely coping, violence is the most familiar mechanism he knows for dealing with big feelings. Yet when I walked through the door- a relative stranger, who'd had that one magic breakthrough with him so long ago- what came out of him was an unprecedented affectionate greeting.<br />
<br />
And then I did break down, and I cried my eyes out. But they were happy tears, for once, in this time of great stress for me.<br />
<br />
Perhaps he<i> did </i>remember that day when I met his violence with gentleness. Or perhaps, somewhere inside him, he just remembered a face and a feeling to match it. Perhaps he just saw me, and recognised that <i>this is what love looks like. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Please, you <i>have</i> to keep believing in gentle discipline. You have to have faith, and try your hardest to be consistent and unflappable. You just don't know when that moment will come when a child crosses the threshold, and suddenly learns that a limit<i> gently </i>enforced can be a true expression of love.<br />
<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-5819023263304390552012-11-25T12:31:00.003+10:002012-11-25T12:31:44.999+10:00Raising resilient childrenMost of you know that I'm currently engaged in the fight of my life, against breast cancer. (You can read about it over at my other blog, <a href="http://fightingthefreeloader.blogspot.com.au/">Fighting the Freeloader</a>, or follow the journey through my other <a href="https://www.facebook.com/FightingTheFreeloader?ref=hl&bookmark_t=page">Facebook page</a>.) It's taking up a lot of my time and energy.<br />
<br />
What has that to do with parenting and childcare, you might ask?<br />
<br />
It seems, if I'm to believe the feedback I'm getting from my readers, that I'm showing an <i>unusually </i>high level of resilience as I battle this disease. Over and over, people write to me that they're amazed by the level of humour and strength that I'm displaying in these terribly trying and tiring circumstances. I tell you this not to pat myself on the back- I'm a bit bewildered by the fuss, actually- but because it's occurred to me that maybe I have something really valuable to share with you here.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GZ00p5N24n8/ULF5TJDfjEI/AAAAAAAAAsY/q3JfwCsOKe4/s1600/gwenandmaurice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GZ00p5N24n8/ULF5TJDfjEI/AAAAAAAAAsY/q3JfwCsOKe4/s1600/gwenandmaurice.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What did my parents contribute to my<br />resilience now?</td></tr>
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<i>How </i>did I become so resilient? Is there a path that my parents followed which led to me becoming so mentally strong as an adult? What did I learn, that now enables me to bounce back from these dire circumstances with humour and positivity?<br />
<br />
Surely that toughness and lightness is what we want for our children. How can we help them to become <i>mentally strong</i> adults?<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
I was thinking about this yesterday afternoon, as I lay here in bed after overdoing it by a fair margin in the morning (yep, I got it wrong! Perfect I ain't!). I have pictures of both my parents in this room, and as I looked at them I realised that I give my mother most of the credit for the person I've become. I harbour a lot of anger towards my father still. We had a very troubled relationship. But yesterday, I realised that I'm probably being unfair.<br />
<br />
In adversity, when she was diagnosed with cancer, my mother crumbled. There were many reasons for that, some of them medical, but the bottom line is that she gave up; she was terrified from the start, and she lost her quality of life almost at once. There was little of the toughness that I find myself displaying now.<br />
<br />
My father, on the other hand, fought his last illness literally to the death. Bedridden and crippled by arthritis, his mind destroyed by dementia, he <i>raged against the dying of the light</i>. Taken to the nursing home against his will in his eighties, he struck out at the carers with his walking stick, hurdled a picket fence (<i>how</i>?) and ran down the road in an attempt to get himself home. On the day he died, the nurses were stunned to find him sitting in the chair by his bed, apparently looking out the window. After being unable to move for months, he had, somehow, got out of bed to die.<br />
<br />
That's mental toughness. That's refusing to roll over.<br />
<br />
Did I simply inherit my father's genes? Certainly there's a bit of that. But when I think back to my early childhood, before my father and I fell out, I think I was brought up to be mentally tough and positive. I think he vaccinated me against self-doubt. He taught me how to fight.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxbJ4IZlmhA/ULF5peTmJUI/AAAAAAAAAsg/eGq65kMw-e4/s1600/picture+of+a+horse_0019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxbJ4IZlmhA/ULF5peTmJUI/AAAAAAAAAsg/eGq65kMw-e4/s320/picture+of+a+horse_0019.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The war hero</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The first signpost I see, as I analyse this, is that his response to a problem was to stare it in the eye and ask for its name, rank and serial number. This was modelled to me from birth. My dad was a war hero; I was brought up on stories (never told by him!) of how he had single-handedly disarmed an enemy machine gun post, saving the lives of many of his battalion. He brought this bull-headed courage and directness to any problem he encountered in civilian life: analyse the situation, find the cause, attack.<br />
<br />
Often, traumatised by his war experiences, he did that with somewhat excessive vigour. Often he alienated people. But he modelled the method of <i>analyse and act,</i> rather than taking the path of least resistance, engaging in protracted navel-gazing or worrying too much about the impression he was making. His was, I believe, a traditionally<i> male </i>way of dealing with problems (though of course there are women who have learned to deal like this too).<br />
<br />
My mother tended more to the slow internal burn, followed by comic revenge served cold- which was often highly amusing but <i>rarely fixed the problem</i> in the long term. I see now that I learned my problem-solving skills from my father, moderated by my mother's humour.<br />
<br />
In parenting terms, I believe<b> we can teach this to our children through modelling.</b> Instead of dwelling on our problems and turning them over and over, as women tend to do ad infinitum with their girlfriends, we can choose to <i>analyse and act</i> - we can try to bring that more <i>male </i>energy to our own challenges. And we can try to appreciate that decisive approach when we see it demonstrated by the males in our (and our children's) lives. We can be <i>less critical </i>of the male approach.<br />
<br />
Our children are watching. They will pick up on our use and appreciation of this directed energy, and they'll see that it short-circuits anxiety.<br />
<br />
Imagine your own child as an adult, faced as I am with a terrifying cancer diagnosis. Do you want your child to turn their overwhelming fear over and over and over in their mind and discuss it endlessly with their friends until it destroys their peace completely? Or do you want them to be able to <i>analyse and act</i>? Choose their course of treatment, find their support system, discover a way of dealing positively with each challenge as it arises?<br />
<br />
There comes a point where talking about a problem <i>becomes </i>the problem. Be careful what you're modelling.<br />
<br />
The second signpost I've found is my father's positive approach to risk-taking when I was very young. He took an <i>inform and let go</i> approach. There's plentiful research available now on this one; it is being shown over and over again that refusing to allow children to take risks and learn from them has a negative impact on their resilience as adults.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parents didn't always agree on<br />child-rearing- of course not!</td></tr>
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I was so lucky. My mother's natural instinct was to wrap me in cotton wool- especially after I contracted rheumatic fever, a potentially deadly disease, at age 5. Fortunately I recovered completely, but my mother never forgot it and was significantly over-protective ever after.<br />
<br />
My father, on the other hand, never missed a beat. He took my brother and me on countless bush walks and nature trips, and there was always a running educational commentary (with practical demonstrations) on sensible safety precautions.<br />
<br />
<i>Never thrust your hand into a dark place. There might be a spider in there.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Look on the other side of a fallen log before you step over it. Snakes love to sun-bake there.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Never turn your back on the sea. A freak wave can come out of nowhere.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Test a rock for movement before putting your full weight on it when you're climbing or near water. It might be loose.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Take notice of where the sun is. It helps you know where you are if you go off the track.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Step on the clean rocks in the creek. Moss is slippery.</i><br />
<br />
And so on. Note that all this advice was restricted to situations that might prove <i>life-threatening</i> to us. He never told us <i>don't pick up a stick</i>, for example,<i> because you might poke your eyes out.</i> He never <i>assumed we were stupid</i>. We always got the benefit of the doubt, and we were allowed to find out plenty of things for ourselves by making mistakes.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-chzSJM0pIaU/ULF6LBLEFCI/AAAAAAAAAsw/0AD5pDtDkKs/s1600/Yvonne,+Jeff,+me001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-chzSJM0pIaU/ULF6LBLEFCI/AAAAAAAAAsw/0AD5pDtDkKs/s1600/Yvonne,+Jeff,+me001.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This yabby didn't nip me! <br />But many others did...</td></tr>
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<i>A yabby will nip you if you pick it up in the wrong place, and damn, it hurts! </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>If you run on rough ground, you'll probably trip and fall and take the skin off your knee. Ouch!</i><br />
<br />
And so on.<br />
<br />
When he saw evidence that we were taking his advice on board, we were allowed to go out without an adult chaperone- into the Australian bush (despite the numerous lethal creepy crawlies we might encounter there) and to the creek (despite the fact that neither of us could swim). We were trusted to make good decisions. We didn't let him down.<br />
<br />
That trust, applied in early childhood, gave me a strong self-belief. <i>I am strong. I can do anything a boy can do. <b>I can be unafraid,</b> because I know and recognise what is dangerous.</i> <i>I can make good decisions for myself when faced with danger. </i><br />
<br />
These are powerful mantras for a child. They are <i>vital</i> mantras to me now, when my life is threatened by something over which I have very limited control. It is my father's attitude to fear that has rubbed off on me- learn about the danger, deal with it decisively when it arises, move on. I am making good decisions about dealing with my cancer; I trust myself to do so.<br />
<br />
Letting go of our children, allowing them to take reasonable risks, is tough work for us. We desperately desire our children's happiness and safety. We resile from emergency trips to hospital when our child falls out of a tree and breaks an arm, from the permanent scar on our child's sweet face where they fell on something jagged, from the terror of an abduction. Of course we do.<br />
<br />
But we have to look at these things in the long term, not the short term. We have to think of the adult we are raising, not just the precious child. And at some point, we need to put our child's long-term resilience above our own desire for peace of mind; we have to trust them with their own safety. We have to realise that by wrapping them in cotton wool, we are not actually protecting <i>them</i>. We are protecting <i>ourselves</i>.<br />
<br />
If my father had allowed my mother to hold sway, to coddle her precious and longed-for daughter lest my beauty be marred or my life lost in some freakish accident, I would be a mess dealing with the situation I face today. Nothing my mother could have done would have protected me from this cancer, and I would have had to face it without tools.<br />
<br />
Instead, I'm able to trust myself to take what might seem an <i>outlandish</i> risk to some people- to open up and tell the world what it really feels like to be where I am and to write about what I fear, so I can look it in the eye; to trust even complete strangers with intimate details of how I'm managing to live with this disease- because I know that my openness might help them, too. I know that if I can use my disease to help others, it will give meaning to what's happening to me. I am strong and confident about taking this risk. <i>That didn't happen by chance.</i><br />
<br />
I trust myself to know what is right for me, and what level of risk is safe for me. I trust myself to make good decisions about surviving this emotional and physical battering. I am making decisions for <i>me</i>, based on what is right for <i>me</i>, instead of constantly looking to others for guidance. First I inform myself of the dangers; then off I go.<br />
<br />
The greatest danger of all would be to become a <i>victim</i>. I refuse to be a <i>victim</i> and to live in fear of what might happen. I have been brought up to be a <i>survivor </i>until the moment I actually die.<br />
<br />
You can bring your children up to be <i>survivors</i>, too, but first you will have to let go of them. I believe that is one of the greatest gifts you can give them. Inform them, and let them go.<br />
<br />
I know it will be controversial if I say that I believe that men are generally better at promoting risk than women- but I'm saying it anyway. Mums, <i>please</i> try to relax when the dads are playing with the kids and it gets a bit risky. It mightn't be the way you'd do it, but <i>take your cue from your children's faces</i>, not from your own internal voices.<br />
<br />
If your kids seem terrified, step in by all means. Otherwise... try to bite your tongue. <i>Even</i> if it ends up with a trip to Emergency. Male figures have much to contribute to the growth of your children's self-esteem and confidence. And mistakes are painful, but<i> necessary</i>.<br />
<br />
*************<br />
<br />
It would be unfair of me to leave any analysis of my resilience at that. I also have to pay homage to my mother's contribution to my survival- her indefatigable sense of humour.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-svBDxVFllzc/ULF7wHWTN5I/AAAAAAAAAs4/9T5ZhtNiRIM/s1600/gwenwithorangepeel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-svBDxVFllzc/ULF7wHWTN5I/AAAAAAAAAs4/9T5ZhtNiRIM/s1600/gwenwithorangepeel.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mother, with orange peel teeth.<br />With a role model like that, how<br />could I not see <i>some</i> humour in<br />losing a breast? Vanity isn't <br />everything, you know.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In our house there were very few things so serious that they couldn't be laughed about. Her sense of proportion was wondrous, and she taught me not to make mountains out of molehills. I remember when my brother dropped the dictionary on her toe while we were playing Scrabble one day, and we all ended up rolling on the floor laughing- even my mother was giggling helplessly, despite the agony of the Websters landing square on her pinky.<br />
<br />
Teach your children not to take themselves too seriously. Model that by not taking<i> yourself </i>too seriously. Life can be tragic, but life is also hilarious; most things can be viewed both ways, if you can only learn to stand back and not be sucked into a one-dimensional, self-pitying view. If I wasn't able to laugh as well as cry about losing a breast, losing my hair and losing a year or so of my normal life, I would be in a sorry state right now.<br />
<br />
So here are my precepts for raising resilient children:<br />
<br />
Analyse and act on your problems, instead of wallowing in them.<br />
Inform your children about risk, then let go.<br />
Model keeping your own problems in proportion; try to laugh more.<br />
<br />
Life is sometimes ugly and frightening, but it's also beautiful and deliciously amusing. Model problem-solving, encourage reasonable risk-taking and <i>laugh</i> with your children, and the result will be adults who are resilient in the face of great hardships.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-33164170868416895892012-11-20T23:05:00.000+10:002012-11-20T23:05:15.730+10:00When kids won't do what you ask Another request for help from a reader!<br />
<br />
Kristin asks:<br />
<br />
<i>I teach kindergarten, and this year in particular I am faced with (multiple) children who absolutely REFUSE to do what I'm asking them. I feel like it's attention seeking. Let it go, or take the reins?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>The first thing I want to address here is the idea that 'attention seeking' is a problem in early childhood. <i>Of course</i> very young children are seeking our attention! It's not manipulation. They <i>need </i>our attention, and 'being difficult' is often an indication that they are feeling on the outer or that they have some sort of special need in that moment.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OdZX2GpWr9M/UKt_aUUxZcI/AAAAAAAAApE/lV3Q1pzm5hc/s1600/100_4000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OdZX2GpWr9M/UKt_aUUxZcI/AAAAAAAAApE/lV3Q1pzm5hc/s320/100_4000.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young children are not a <br />homogenous body- they are <br />like different rainbows<br />gathered in a room. Try to<br />appreciate the range!</td></tr>
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For many of them, kindergarten's the first time they've had to be away from their mothers, learning to be part of a large group. We need to keep our expectations age-appropriate. It is <i>not</i> age-appropriate to expect very young children, in their first years of group education, to behave like primary school kids- to act like a homogenous body when given directions. Some of them <i>won't</i> just sit down on the mat when you ask. Some of them have <i>no idea</i> about being quiet when asked.<br />
<br />
So that's point one. Think about where these children are starting from, and don't expect miracles. Be patient.<br />
<br />
Point two is about respect. Kindergarten children are still learning through play, not through being told to do things. They become very busy with their <i>work </i>of learning through play. They are not being 'ornery' when you call them to make a line or sit on the mat or find their hats, and they fail to comply. They are probably in the middle of something fascinating and educational! If we can reframe 'disobedience' as 'engagement (to the exclusion of external stimuli)', it looks very different.<br />
<br />
We <i>want</i> to encourage focus, don't we? What looks random and unimportant to an adult can be vital, in the moment, to a child. We need to increase our respect for what children are doing, and be a little more humble ourselves about the orders we issue.<br />
<br />
Give warnings before you want them to transition to a new activity. Respect the play-work they've done. Protect their partially-completed structures and projects, so they can return to them later.<b> Try not to regiment them too much- they are very young. </b>There's plenty of time later for sitting at desks and lining up, and at 4 or 5 years old, most children are not developmentally ready for that sort of learning environment.<br />
<br />
Of course, <b>that is not to say that it's alright to have a free-for-all in your kindergarten room.</b> Children<i> do </i>need to learn to do as they're told, and not just for educational purposes. You<i> do</i> need to feel secure that they'll listen and follow instructions- for example, in case of an emergency. Worst case scenario- if the house or the childcare centre is burning down, the children need to be accustomed to doing what you ask them when they hear certain signals.<br />
<br />
So the answer to Kristin's question is that you MUST be able to take the reins.<br />
<br />
But how?<br />
<br />
That's not something that happens overnight- you need to grow a sense of community and an atmosphere of trust, and you need to be respected as the leader. The good news is that there are some tricks of the trade that can help you to achieve that.<br />
<br />
The answer to everything, as I often say, is relationship. But if you're a teacher, the truth of starting out each year is that you have to walk into that kindy room cold and...<br />
<br />
<b><u>Get their attention</u></b><br />
<br />
If it's not working, stop doing it.<br />
<br />
Raising your voice and shouting instructions to get the attention of a group of young children is doomed to failure. Yelling means someone's angry or upset- why would they want to engage with that? Would you? They simply don't hear you, or they block out what you're saying.<br />
<br />
You need to change the way you get the whole group's attention so that it doesn't send out those old, negative emotional overtones. Here are some ideas:<br />
<br />
(a) Turn all the lights off. Then when the kids look up from what they're doing and stop talking, turn them on again, and speak in your normal voice.<br />
<br />
<i>"I need everyone to come to the mat right now, please! It's important!"</i><br />
<br />
And smile. Make it sound <i>exciting, engaging, important.</i><br />
<br />
(b) Ring a bell, beat a drum, or blow a whistle. A new and different tone colour cuts through noise much more effectively than your voice, which the children are used to. (There's a reason people used to use dinner gongs!)<br />
<br />
Again, what you say next is important- keep it simple, direct and positive.<br />
<br />
(c) No lights on? No musical instruments at hand? Then<i> sing </i>what you have to say instead of shouting it.<br />
<br />
Singing cuts through chaos like nothing else I know. You'll find some simple attention-getting ditties in my blog post about music, under the heading <b><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2011/07/bringing-music-into-your-childrens.html">'transition tricks'</a></b>.<br />
<br />
(d) Use a puppet or toy to do the talking, and address individuals by name. "I'm Mr Sneezy, and I want to see <i>you </i>on the mat right now, Ethan! You too, Arianne!"<br />
<br />
(e) Lower your voice instead of raising it. Go to each group of children and whisper "Something's happening over at the mat! Are you coming? Shh! Let's tiptoe! Do you think anyone else will see what we're doing?"<br />
<br />
Actually, you don't have to say a word. Mime it. Put a finger to your lips and beckon, smiling. This is a good way to gather up stragglers- make sure you have eye contact by getting down on their level and using their name, then go into your Marcel Marceau routine.<br />
<br />
Okay, you have their attention. Now what?<br />
<br />
<b><u>Be organised</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
Very young children will stop listening to you if you keep them waiting. You need to be organised, both practically and in your head. You need to know what you want to say or do, and launch into it <i>the moment</i> you have their attention. A child who gets up from the mat and wanders away before you've got your resources together, because you didn't have your gear assembled before you called the children in- well, that behaviour's not the <i>child's</i> fault. A child who walks away when you're giving him an instruction- well, you haven't kept his attention, have you?<br />
<br />
How do we make sure instructions 'get through'?<br />
<br />
<b><u>Keep it simple</u></b><br />
<br />
Start the year giving ONE instruction at a time. Work out the right level of language- and it won't necessarily be the same level for every member of your group! Suit your language to the individual child when talking one-on-one. With the whole group, keep it simple and short.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Make it engaging</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
Children co-operate when they're having fun. Keep it light-hearted if you possibly can. Make them laugh if you can.<br />
<br />
OR, make it <i>fascinating</i>. Irresistible. Practical. Children learn by doing, not by being told, so make sure they take part in whatever you want them to learn about.<br />
<br />
<b>Note-</b> be careful of overstimulating them, as well as being careful not to bore them! That's a balancing act, a fine art which is learned only through hard experience. If you're an inexperienced teacher, be kind to yourself. You<i> will </i>make mistakes. That's only a sin if you don't learn from them.<br />
<br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;">What about the 'problem child'?</u><br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></u>
What, there are still some children not co-operating?<br />
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Identify the leaders in any unco-operative groups. Target them with your professional skills and your loving attention. Improve your relationship with those leaders, through play and positive interaction. Find out their interests. Make sure they feel like they belong in your room. Spend time with the most 'difficult' children in your room, talk to their parents, find out what goes on inside their heads. Learn to love them for who they are, if you possibly can.<br />
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Give them specific leadership roles- sometimes the child who won't come to the mat themselves is the very child who's <i>awfully</i> good at getting everyone else to the mat! Make the 'problem child' your helper and messenger.<br />
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<b><u>It's still not working!</u></b><br />
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If you're still not getting through, consult with your colleagues. Do they find this child hard to get through to? Is there perhaps a special needs diagnosis waiting to be made? Do you have a bored, gifted child making waves?<br />
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<i>Ask for help</i> when you're struggling- don't blame the child, or the parents. Your 'problem child' (or children) may be <i>desperately</i> needing someone to notice that they're not coping.<br />
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That lack of obedience could be a cry for help. Are you listening?Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-84637912266613574012012-11-09T14:23:00.001+10:002012-11-09T14:23:09.383+10:00Tantrums: 3 steps to beat 'em, not join 'em!I love answering my readers' questions. It's a long time since I wrote a post, given all that's happening in my life at the moment, but this morning Cari asked:<br />
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<i>How do you handle tantrums?</i><br />
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And I can just imagine what she's going through. Anyone who's had a toddler knows what she's going through. So I'll put my Aunt Annie hat back on for a moment, to answer that question properly.<br />
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A tantrum isn't about one event, or one reaction. A tantrum is the result of a build-up of elements, and it's triggered by you setting a boundary.<br />
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I want to break those elements down to help show you how to reduce the number and severity of tantrums, because the fact is that you'll pull that trigger over and over again- <i>you have to set limits and your child won't like it</i>.<br />
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You won't ever eliminate tantrums completely- but you <i>can </i>make life better for both you and your child during this difficult phase.<br />
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<u><b>1. Work on yourself</b></u><br />
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Step one is to <b>be sure of your role in your child's life</b>. With certainty comes confidence in your own reactions; with confidence comes the ability to relax while dealing with an out-of-control child.<br />
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And if you can relax and just deal with your child's emotions calmly, you are <i>not </i>adding emotional fuel to the fire. A child who senses that her tantrums make her mother or father tense, angry or fearful will feel even more insecure and unsafe in expressing her emotions.<br />
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So, what is your role? Find a mantra that you can say to yourself at times when emotions are frayed and the edges get fuzzy. Here's one I found useful as a mother:<br />
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<i>My job as your parent is to ensure that you grow up to be a healthy, happy adult.</i><br />
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And I would follow this, in my head, with a logical statement about the cause of this particular battle of wills and the reason for the limit I'd set:<br />
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<i>Healthy adults don't eat endless ice creams.</i><br />
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Or,<br />
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<i>Happy adults don't hurt other people.</i><br />
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Being sure of<i> what </i>your role is and <i>why </i>your limit is a good one will help you to hold firm in the face of banshee-like screams, pinches or kicks and even horrid personal statements from your child. You are the parent; over there is the child. You have learned emotional control; your child is still learning. <b>Your job is to maintain control of yourself, as an example to your child.</b><br />
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This is why spanking a child who's having a tantrum is a really pointless strategy. You haven't defined acceptable and unacceptable behaviour- you've behaved like a child yourself, and lashed out because your emotions are out of control. Don't join in the tantrum! Be calm! <i>Serenity</i> is the way to douse the emotional fire of a tantrum.<br />
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Speak gently. Touch gently. Breathe deeply to maintain your calm. If you feel yourself losing control, walk away and take some deep, slow breaths.<br />
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This sounds easy until it happens in a public place, of course, where you have the additional pressure of other people's judgement. HOLD FIRM. Make eye contact with people who are staring. They want to take part in your child's tantrum? <i>Fine. </i>Include them. Try to smile at them, and say loudly "I'm just taking some deep breaths here so I can deal with this without losing my cool."<br />
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<u><b>2. Work on your child</b></u><br />
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Step two is<b> giving your child better tools than tantrums </b>to deal with their feelings. Children have tantrums because they don't know any other ways to express or release negative emotions. The sooner you teach them how to express emotions and how to release them, the sooner the tantrums will abate.<br />
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Apart from modelling good emotional control yourself in your day-to-day life, there are many things you can do to help your child with their emotions. Stories about anger, frustration, disappointment and sadness are great for creating talking points at bedtime or quiet times during the day; make sure that you're not only talking about the big feelings when they explode!<br />
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My favourite book for this is 'Annie's Chair', by Deborah Niland, in which Annie chucks a first rate tantrum because her dog won't get out of her special chair. Two-year-olds often love this book, though it's designed for older children.<br />
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It's good also to converse about things that make your child feel the big feelings, at a time when you're happily interacting.<br />
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<i>"You looked sad when Daddy had to go to work this morning. I was a bit sad too, but I'll feel happy when he comes home tonight. Will you be happy when Daddy comes home?"</i><br />
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<i>"I don't have any more of your favourite yoghurt. I bet you feel disappointed about that. Would you feel happier if we go to the shops after lunch to get some more?"</i><br />
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<i>"You were a bit angry when your big brother grabbed your teddy out of the cot, weren't you? I saw that angry face!"</i><br />
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<i>"It's frustrating when you can't get the piece to fit into the puzzle. I take some big breaths when I get frustrated."</i><br />
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Even very young children can learn to point to smiley faces that express the basic emotions. They can understand the words <i>sad, angry, frustrated</i> and <i>disappointed</i> long before they can say them, IF you use those words in context when you're talking with them. By talking about feelings from an early age, you supply your child with tools to express themselves. Believe me, it's far easier to hear a child scream "I'M ANGRY!" than it is to be hit or kicked!<br />
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Slightly older children can be taught anger management through breath control. Younger ones can be directed to stamp their feet or hit a pillow or soft toy when frustrated. Sometimes these more playful methods of defusing situations can become a big giggle-fest!<br />
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<u><b>3. Work on your environment</b></u><br />
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Step three is make life easier for yourself by<b> limiting your child's frustrations</b>. Look around you. What are the precious, dangerous or fragile things in this room that really could be put away until your child is a little older? Is your pantry cupboard full of foods that you don't want your baby to eat? Why are you having to say 'no' so often? What can you change so you can say 'yes' more of the time? Can you set up a safe area for your child to play in, where<i> everything </i>is okay?<br />
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Look at your schedule. Are you expecting your child to have more emotional endurance than is age-appropriate? Are you expecting a toddler to wander around the shops with you for more than an hour, or to socialise with other children (or adults!) who are not compatible with them? Are you cramming too much into your own day so that you're tired and stressed, and it's rubbing off on your child?<br />
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Look at the amount of noise and movement in your child's world. Are you overstimulating them? Do you have loud music playing all day, or the TV on? Is there nowhere quiet for them to retreat to? Are you constantly putting them into and out of the car or changing their clothes? Are they getting enough sleep? Have you gone to the other extreme- are they just bored and looking for excitement? Have you given enough opportunities for natural play outdoors, instead of surrounding them with brightly coloured plastic toys and branded goods? (Nature play is MAGIC for de-stressing upset children.)<br />
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Allowing more quiet time and removing the triggers for those battles of will can only help to limit the number of meltdowns per day.<br />
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**********<br />
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So much for the three steps. You've done all that, and STILL your child has a meltdown. (It happens. We've all been there.) What do you do?<br />
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First, simultaneously <b>make sure nobody's getting hurt </b>and <b>validate the emotion. </b><br />
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If your child is hurting someone or damaging something, set a limit. Hold his hands firmly but gently and say "I won't let you hit/kick/break things. It's okay to feel angry <b>but</b> it's not okay to hit/kick/break things."<br />
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If he's racing after someone to hurt them (yes, I've seen that!) it can be helpful to pick him up, sit down, lie him face down across your lap with his tummy on your thighs and hold him there, stroking or patting his back and talking gently to him. In that position it's hard for him to hit, kick or bite you, so you have a better chance of maintaining your own cool.<br />
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If she's writhing like an octopus and lashing out at anyone who comes close, get the message! Don't touch her! Sit down close by, but out of range. Talk calmly to her.<br />
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Here are some words you can use, gently, to an out-of-control child (whether you're holding them or not). They won't necessarily register everything you say, but the idea is to keep talking calmly and don't back them further into a corner.<br />
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<i>"I can't understand your words when you scream/cry. Can you use your normal voice so I can hear what you want?"</i><br />
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(I've seen a two-year-old snap out of it instantly when I put my face down on the floor next to hers and said that.)<br />
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<i>"I hear that you're very angry that I won't let you have a lolly. Is that right?"</i> (wait for an answer, repeat if necessary)<br />
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<i>"It's okay to be angry but I still won't let you have a lolly now, because you already cleaned your teeth and it's bedtime. It's my job as your mum to make sure your teeth are healthy. Lollies at bedtime make holes in your teeth."</i><br />
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Be patient. Wait.<br />
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For the writhing octopus on the floor, when you feel sure that you'll be heard over the screaming and crying, still don't touch them (as long as they're not damaging people or things) but say something like this:<br />
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<i>"I'm right here and I'm keeping you safe till you feel better."</i><br />
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<i>"I've got a big hug here for you when you're ready. Let me know when you want it."</i><br />
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So the secret formula here is give<b> emotional support</b>, but keep the<b> boundary </b>firm.<br />
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NEVER raise your voice or smack.<br />
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NEVER change your mind about the limit because of a tantrum.<br />
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I'll end this with a little story from when my son was two. I'd taken him to the supermarket after I finished work, because I thought I <i>had </i>to do a full shop every time in those days; it hadn't occurred to me that I could have grabbed the basics, given that my son was already grumpy and I was exhausted. I popped him in the seat of the shopping trolley and away we went.<br />
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By aisle three, he was screaming the place down. I had said 'no' so many times to so many outrageous 'I want' requests that I was at boiling point. People were staring. I was ready to spank, truly I was.<br />
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I froze. I stared at the horrible red screaming thing volleying abuse at my face. And then I turned and walked away into aisle four.<br />
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And aisle five.<br />
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Leaving the shopping trolley in aisle three.<br />
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(I could still hear him screaming from there.)<br />
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When I could breathe again, I came back. I picked him up out of the trolley, left all the shopping behind and went home.<br />
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Sometimes, when a child has a tantrum, that's the best you can do. Don't beat yourself up about it. Parenting is <i>hard</i>.<br />
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<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-65440816242560075982012-10-09T11:33:00.001+10:002012-10-09T11:33:43.625+10:00More about homework, and kids who are just like youLast week I shared a wonderfully thought-provoking meme about parenting on my FB page. It's had a barrel full of 'likes', because anyone who's ever parented identifies with it so much. Here it is:<br />
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Have you been there?<br />
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It reminded me straight away of the Homework Dilemma I had with my son. He simply would NOT do it. He would do anything to get out of it, including evasion, distraction and straight out lying. I didn't know what to do.<br />
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A few times, I really lost the plot with him over it.<br />
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I mean, it wasn't just school homework. It included his 'cello practice, and I was paying a LOT of money for those lessons. The frustration I felt was huge. He had so much potential, and he was WASTING it (as well as wasting my hard-earned cash).<br />
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Have you been there?<br />
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My 'aha' moment came when I was reminiscing with a friend about our school days. Let me tell you what we remembered.<br />
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We remembered skipping class. We spent hours sitting behind the stained glass window of the chapel, where nobody had ever thought to look for truants, writing letters to our respective love interests and discussing our life philosophies.<br />
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I recalled hiding in the chapel itself, where there was a wonderful grand piano on which I taught myself to play pop songs by ear. The chaplain, bless his heart, often commented kindly on the music but never ratted on me!<br />
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We remembered getting through our Latin exam in the School Certificate by memorising the translation of the set text instead of learning the vocabulary. (That was <i>truly </i>devious.)<br />
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We remembered various occasions where we'd challenged our less competent teachers head-on and won some sort of victory against them; my friend recalled correcting the German teacher's faulty grammar by walking to the front, grabbing the chalk and SHOWING him what he'd done wrong on the board, in front of the whole class. (Ouch.)<br />
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Ironically, I recalled confronting a draconian French teacher who'd given us a swag of homework over the school holidays and lecturing her on the meaning of 'holiday', again in front of the whole class. (Needless to say, I was in strife for not doing that homework.)<br />
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Oh, and while we're there, I recalled that I'd never done a single Maths homework exercise from the moment I realised the teachers never checked up on me... which was in about year 8...<br />
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...and as for my classical piano practice, well, I had to be nagged CONSTANTLY about that by my parents... but I still always passed...<br />
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Oh.<br />
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Whoops.<br />
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Yes, my child was behaving<i> exactly</i> like me. And I had the hide to chastise him for that?<br />
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Hypocrisy is not an attractive characteristic in a parent. Sometimes instead of going with the knee-jerk reaction, it's wise to try to unpack what's really happening- and a bit of genetic history can be enlightening. I saw, finally, that by rejecting his homework my son was simply taking care of his own needs, just as I had.<br />
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Just like me, he was letting his interests guide his learning. He might not have been doing his Maths homework, but he was reading history textbooks for fun. (He now has a PhD in History.)<br />
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Just like me, he'd realised very quickly that there was no point doing boring and repetitive work when his brain refused to engage with it (and with his brain disengaged, he was learning NOTHING). He was better off engaging with something he was interested in, and so directing his own learning to where he was most likely to prosper from it.<br />
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And just like me, he was refusing to let bad teaching rule his use of time. He knew the value of what he chose to do <i>instead</i> of homework- whether that was reading, playing outside or engaging in conversation with me and others. He was listening to his own inner voices, not to the strident and self-righteous voices of others- those who expected his compliance as their <i>right</i>, regardless of how little they'd considered his personal character and needs.<br />
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So I stopped harassing him about homework. I saw his position through new eyes. Why shouldn't I trust him to <i>know </i>what was right for him, just as I had? My teenage 'inner voice' had screamed against the 'norm' of being a <i>good girl</i>, and following the directives of that voice had led me to the best features of my life so far.<br />
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I had a career in classroom music, where my ease and facility at the keyboard and my ability to play by ear were indispensable.<br />
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I had a deep understanding of human nature, gained through all those hours talking philosophy with my best friend behind the chapel window, which allowed me to form constructive and supportive relationships with my students.<br />
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Acting <i>just like me </i>was functional for my son. He valued his time, and he could see where he wanted to put his efforts. He started seeing this in infants' school, yet it took me till he was in high school to learn to respect his choices.<br />
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That had the side benefit of allowing him to carry the can for those choices, and so learn about natural consequence. If he was in strife for his failure to present vital work, he knew there was no way I was going to help him out. It was on his head and he had to deal with the fallout.<br />
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There's a valuable life lesson.<br />
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Now, please note: I'm not saying that letting your child neglect <i>all </i>their homework is necessarily right for <i>every</i> child. There are exceptions.<br />
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Here's one. Perhaps if my son had had a serious and specific barrier to his learning, such as dyslexia or ADHD, I'd have been right to insist he did his homework- <b><i>as long as that homework was targeting the problem</i>. </b><br />
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I think what we need to consider in the homework debate is this.<br />
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<b>1. What is your child missing out on by<i> not doing</i> this homework? </b><br />
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<b>2. What is your child missing out on by<i> doing</i> this homework?</b><br />
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Your attitude to your child's homework needs to be based on the balance between those factors.<br />
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And I'll say it yet again- <b>you can improve your relationship with your child by remembering your own childhood experiences.</b> Reminiscing is a powerful parenting tool. And it <i>will</i> help you to avoid those awkward moments!<br />
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<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-71003441055809126312012-09-27T18:54:00.002+10:002012-09-27T18:54:43.223+10:00What feels right can be so wrongMy friends Dave and Samantha have just had their first baby. Do you remember what that was like- that first few months where you really had no parenting experience to fall back on, where everything was new?<br />
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"How's Sam going?" I asked when I saw Dave recently. Sam had looked pretty confident when I last saw her, but maybe things were less serene behind the scenes; her family is far away, so she's been a bit short of support.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-btatfx2xPgg/UGQRvm6z4TI/AAAAAAAAAmo/-wOXxcyN5s4/s1600/100_0512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-btatfx2xPgg/UGQRvm6z4TI/AAAAAAAAAmo/-wOXxcyN5s4/s1600/100_0512.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Animals have incredible parenting <br />instincts. Can we rely on instinct <br />in our parenting too?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"I reckon she's going really well," replied Dave. "She does a lot of reading on the net trying to work out the best way to do things, but it's all pretty contradictory. You've got all these experts, and none of them agree with each other. I told her to forget all that and just go with her instincts."<br />
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Dave had a point. There's just SO much information out there that it's very hard for a new mum looking for advice to make sense of it all. How can you tell what's an informed point of view, versus the ramblings of some self-appointed guru with an opinion and an agenda? It's easy to conclude that you can only go with what <i>feels right </i>to you.<br />
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I wish it was that simple. But the complex truth is that in some cases, what <i>feels right </i>to you isn't necessarily the best thing for your children.<br />
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That's because what <i>feels right</i> is so dependent on our personal experiences. There's a danger that we'll either<b> copy our parents' model</b> of parenthood exactly, regardless of how ineffective some of their parenting was, or <b>reject their methods </b>so completely that we fall over backwards and make the opposite mistake.<br />
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I did a lot of copying as a new mother. I considered I'd been parented very well. I lived to regret some of the things I copied! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wF0s8ZRePiI/UGQSPUgiHgI/AAAAAAAAAmw/-c1U7Jzeovk/s1600/100_0106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wF0s8ZRePiI/UGQSPUgiHgI/AAAAAAAAAmw/-c1U7Jzeovk/s320/100_0106.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wash up? Huh? I have to practise<br />the piano!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If I'd been a little more reflective, I'd have encouraged my son to take more responsibility for the household chores. Instead I reproduced my parents' priorities, where children were expected to do their schoolwork and music practice and nothing much else.<br />
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Result: I had to learn to deal with regular chores the hard way- and a generation later, so did my son. Not ideal. (Think 'depressing chaos' followed by 'overwhelming workload'.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtffMeBr1q8/UGQSmLFub7I/AAAAAAAAAm4/cOftUvdpSUM/s1600/Nana+Melvaine_0007-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtffMeBr1q8/UGQSmLFub7I/AAAAAAAAAm4/cOftUvdpSUM/s320/Nana+Melvaine_0007-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Human families are a little more<br />complex than animal families!</td></tr>
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And meanwhile my best friend, who had had some very difficult experiences with her own mother, was occasionally falling over backwards and wondering why her child wasn't moving forwards. Given so few chances to express preference herself as a child, she flooded her toddler with food choices and wondered why he wouldn't eat. Oops!<br />
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Those are minor glitches, but some 'instincts' can lead us to dangerous places. Take spanking. (Please, take it- as far away as possible.)<br />
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Let's look at three different 'feels right' scenarios. <b>NB: </b>not everyone will fit neatly into one of these pigeonholes- they are just scenarios-<b> </b>but let's just see if we can look at what '<i>feels right</i>' from some different perspectives.<br />
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<b>1. Smacking is normal</b><br />
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If you were smacked as a child pretty much whenever you did the wrong thing, you will very likely <i>feel </i>that spanking is a normal method of disciplining your own child.<br />
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You'll call on that experience of how to parent, as modelled by your own parents; you'll defend that method, and you'll copy it with your own kids- probably without doing a whole lot of deep thinking about <i>how</i> or <i>why</i> (or even<i> if</i>) it worked. It will <i>feel right</i> and comfortable to you, in a deep place that you might well mistake for 'instinct'.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CsOdqxGfvb4/UGQS9L7k-uI/AAAAAAAAAnA/tdkrEQzjx1A/s1600/R14_IMG_7027+Turkey_Juv+EggTooth+Bungawalbin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CsOdqxGfvb4/UGQS9L7k-uI/AAAAAAAAAnA/tdkrEQzjx1A/s320/R14_IMG_7027+Turkey_Juv+EggTooth+Bungawalbin.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turkey mums will instinctively<br />peck at chicks that aren't their own, <br />sometimes killing or maiming them.<br />Still happy to rely on instinct?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you're paying attention, you might eventually realise that you're having a few problems with discipline by the time your child reaches adolescence. Are you needing to escalate that smacking into something more violent? Are your kids being increasingly secretive? Do they tell you the truth? Is sharing emotions with your children a thing of the past?<br />
<br />
Does that<i> feel right</i>? Is that how your relationship with your parents evolved, too?<br />
<br />
Does that make you sad?<br />
<br />
If so, <i>feels right</i> has failed you.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Discipline is cruelty</b><br />
<br />
Maybe you weren't 'spanked' as a child. Maybe instead you had the bones thrashed out of you for tiny misdemeanours, maybe even when you hadn't done anything wrong at all. Maybe you still bear the emotional scars, and have been in therapy because of your parents' violence towards you.<br />
<br />
You'll have a different <i>feels right</i> from the parent number 1. You'll probably call on your personal experience of how <i>not</i> to parent, as modelled by your own parents, and run very fast in the opposite direction- maybe to a place where your own children have no boundaries at all. Boundaries bring back memories of violence.<br />
<br />
And at some point, you may realise that having no discipline imposed <i>hasn't </i>magically made your children feel more loved. They're out of control, and you don't know what to do.<br />
<br />
<i>Feels right</i> has failed you. The gut feeling has led you astray.<br />
<br />
<b>3. Smacking means I lost control</b><br />
<br />
Maybe you came from a family where spanking was used so rarely that you can actually remember the two or three occasions when it happened. The rest of the time, you had things explained to you, or you suffered the natural consequences of your misbehaviour.<br />
<br />
To you, boundaries without violence will <i>feel right</i>. You'll find it reasonably easy not to smack, and you'll find other ways to give those boundaries. You'll be shocked by other parents who smack regularly without seeming to think about it. You may judge them harshly.<br />
<br />
If you lose your way once or twice and smack your child in the heat of the moment, you'll think back to the few times your parents smacked you and be able to forgive them- because now you understand how tough peaceful parenting can be. You'll feel bad for failing. You'll be able to apologise to your child for that, without approving the behaviour you wanted to correct.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hneFSy3tTQw/UGQTg1u1kPI/AAAAAAAAAnI/mmQr936rl1A/s1600/CRW_4554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hneFSy3tTQw/UGQTg1u1kPI/AAAAAAAAAnI/mmQr936rl1A/s320/CRW_4554.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This alpaca instinctively stood still<br />and waited for her wobbly baby to latch on.<br />That baby's just lucky that mum's<br />instincts were good- mum inherited them<br />from the baby's grandmother.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You'll probably end up with a mutually respectful relationship with your teenager. <i>Feels right</i> has done you proud- <i>but not because of any intrinsic value of 'following your instincts'</i>. You're still just reproducing and reacting to your own positive experience.<br />
<br />
You were just lucky.<br />
<br />
* * * * * *<br />
<br />
So, you see, it's not enough just to be guided by the magic we call 'instinct'. Sometimes instinct is actually what feels familiar, or what kicks you in the guts with bad memories.<br />
<br />
You do have to <i>read and discuss</i> issues with other parents, because that takes you outside your own experience and makes you think.<br />
<br />
You have to analyse as well; you have to think hard thoughts about your own experience of being parented and<i> learn</i> from what's happened to you, not just reproduce what <i>feels right</i>. Taking an honest look at your own 'triggers' is a wonderful investment in your children's welfare.<br />
<br />
Take some time to think about it.<br />
<br />
<i>What parenting behaviours have you simply reproduced without thinking? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>How did that parenting impact on you, when you were on the receiving end? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>How did you feel about it? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What were the long-term effects?</i><br />
<br />
Should you perhaps replace some of your 'instincts' with a more reflective approach to parenting?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-42412811994759435722012-09-23T19:51:00.000+10:002012-09-25T07:48:29.533+10:00Standing in the shoes of a preschool bully<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">I've
had another request for help from a reader, and I'd like to share my
thoughts with you all. It's a pretty common problem, and it's an
important one to nip in the bud. Most of us who've worked in
childcare have had to deal with a preschooler who is demonstrating
unacceptably antisocial behaviour while in care- behaviour that we
would identify as </span><b style="color: #333333;">bullying</b><span style="color: #333333;"> in an older child.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U3f9Eo2_3tY/UF7ZyVld3aI/AAAAAAAAAmA/YCrM7hmmLo0/s1600/101_0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="351" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U3f9Eo2_3tY/UF7ZyVld3aI/AAAAAAAAAmA/YCrM7hmmLo0/s400/101_0010.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">It's
terribly frustrating. It can make us very angry on behalf of the
children who are being hurt or frightened. But I want to put you into
the shoes of the preschooler who acts like a bully, because
<i>understanding</i> is the only way you will fix this problem. Maybe
that child can't empathise with his peers- but somehow, <i>you</i> will have
to find a way to empathise with that child and to offer him love and
compassion if you want to find a solution. You have to work with him, not against him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">My
reader, who I'll call 'Polly', asks:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i>I
work in a small child care centre and there is a particular child who
I will call Henry (not his real name). Henry has just turned 4, is
quite intelligent and mature in his ability to converse and is the
youngest of 4 children, but we have a lot of problems with
controlling his bullying. </i></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">Let's
stop right there, because I see two important markers already which
could set the stage for problem behaviours. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">First,
Henry has strong verbal and conversational skills at age 4, which may
mean he is gifted. That can be a danger sign for social skill
development, as gifted children are often asynchronous- a term which
just means that their development is uneven. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">In this case, perhaps
Henry's intellectual age is way beyond his social age. That
asynchrony can cause outbursts of inappropriate behaviour, as small
children struggle with strong emotions, complex thoughts and a deep
feeling that they <i>don't belong</i> within their peer group. (You
can read more about gifted preschoolers and their problems <b><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2010/12/challenge-of-gifted-children-in.html">here.</a></b></span><span style="color: #333333;">)</span><b style="color: #333333;"> </b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">Polly and her colleagues have the chance to make a difference
here- not by 'controlling' Henry's undesirable behaviour through
externally applied punishments, but by striving to understand what's
making Henry act out, and then <i>treating the cause</i> rather than
the symptoms. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Next,
Henry is the youngest of four. It's almost certain that he's had
bullying behaviour modelled to him somewhere, because children are
such great mirrors of what's around them- and with youngest children,
that bullying can often be from older siblings, particularly when
those siblings come in numbers. At this age 'bullying' is not an
intentional activity; it's a copied one. (You can read about another
case of bullying between siblings <b><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/sibling-bullies.html">here.</a></b>)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">But
back to Polly's query:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i>He
is tall and muscular for his age, and towers over the other children,
and often purposefully intimidates the smaller children by standing
over them, pulling angry faces, getting into their personal space and
making loud noises. One little girl is so scared of him that she has
burst into tears just seeing him at the other end of the play
equipment, without him even doing anything. With the children who do
not intimidate as easily he hits, kicks and pushes. </i></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">At
four years of age this sets off my alarm bells again. Who taught
Henry to do this? He <i>has </i>seen it somewhere. This is something
for Polly to discuss with Henry's parents. Are his older siblings–
or perhaps his cousins, or his neighbourhood playmates at home-
unusually boisterous? Have they perhaps been overbearing with him at
some stage, or teamed up against him? Does he fight with them, or is
he a target for their teasing? (Heaven forbid, is this how Henry's
father treats his mother? Stranger things have happened.)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Polly
doesn't say whether she has spoken to Henry's parents about his
behaviour, but I think this is something that must happen. She could
explain to Henry's parents that these antisocial behaviours are
learned, and that it's very important that any bullying that he's
suffering or witnessing himself outside of care must be addressed and stopped. She
could point out that if people around him shout at each other, he
will think shouting is acceptable. If people hit or push or get
overly physical in Henry's presence, he will copy that behaviour in
other social contexts.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="color: #333333;">Yesterday
this was happening a lot so I sat him down to talk, and asked him
why.</i> <i style="color: #333333;">Eventually
he told me that he didn't want anyone else to be there (at the
centre).</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Bonus
points to Polly for using Henry's strong communication skills to
include him as she starts addressing the problem. External
'solutions' never work. You can't just apply a punitive bandaid to
emotional problems and hope they'll be fixed; the child must have a
voice and some form of agency in the way forward. Polly has a head start because Henry is able to express himself clearly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">But
this is a slightly odd revelation from Henry, isn't it? It bears
further examination. Many possibilities present themselves which
might explain him not wanting the other children to be there. Here
are the ones that strike me at once.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">1. If
Henry doesn't want the other children to be there, perhaps he craves
more individual attention. If he can't get it be being good, he'll
settle for negative attention. Is he getting enough attention at
home, or does he perhaps feel invisible compared to his older
siblings? He's making himself VERY visible at care!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">2. Perhaps
he simply doesn't feel that he's part of this childcare community,
and so resents the other children who <i>do </i>seem to fit in. That
can happen with gifted children. They can feel completely isolated. That causes big feelings, and big feelings tend to explode.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">3. Perhaps
the other children's normal play irritates him beyond bearing. He may have a sensory
sensitivity- excessive noise may 'set him off'.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">4. Maybe
he is a child who simply likes to play alone. Children like this, who
are suddenly plunged into a crowded room full of other kids <i>all day</i>
at childcare, sometimes react quite extremely.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">5. Maybe
he doesn't understand how to enter play and get the other children's
attention in a positive way; he's trying to join play by hitting and shouting. Well, that's getting him into trouble and not working anyway- so he wants the problem (the presence of the other children) to just go away. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">6. Maybe
he simply finds his peers too babyish and boring; that's a common
feeling amongst gifted children. Often they love being with the
adults, but resent being categorised with less intellectually
developed children. Imagine if you were forced to be with teenagers
all day and told to fit into their social group and talk only about
what interested them. How would you go? Would you perhaps behave badly out of frustration?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">So
I don't really have enough information here, and maybe neither does
Polly. She could bring this subject up again with Henry, and ask him
<i>why</i> he doesn't want the other children to be there. He'll
remember the conversation- you bet he will. And I bet he'll be
delighted to know that she was listening, and has been thinking about
him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">If
he has trouble explaining <i>why</i>, Polly could suggest some of
these possibilities to him in simpler language. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Are the other kids
too silly or too babyish? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br />Are they too noisy? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Does Henry not like the
things they say, or the games they play? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Would he rather have the
teachers playing with<i> him </i>and talking to <i>him,</i> instead
of having to share the teachers with the other kids? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Would he rather
play on his own? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Does he want to play with the others and they won't
let him? </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">And so on.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Depending
on his response, she will have more information to help her to work
out a solution. She must of course continue to explain that she can NOT let him hit and
scare the other children, but she can request his help in achieving this. Does <i>he </i>have
any ideas about what Polly could do to make him feel better, so he
doesn't need to do those things?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Also depending
on his response, Henry might benefit from some targeted social skills
lessons (which can be done with the whole group). Just teaching
children who aren't 'relating' to look at another child's eyes, smile at them and say
'hello (name)' can make a big difference when children enter play. I
use puppets to teach this skill- most children can learn and perform the ritual with a
puppet, as it is so non-threatening- and I then move on to asking all
the children to greet the teacher like that, before asking them to do
it with a peer. From there, I add 'Can I please play with you?' to
the script when they try to enter play. A few weeks of role playing like this at mat time, and the majority of the children will pick up stronger social skills.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i>I
explained that the other children’s Mummy's and Daddy's had left
them here so that they could go to work or get some jobs done at home
and that we (the staff) had to take care of all of the children and
that's why it makes me sad when he hits or kicks them. This seemed to
get through to him a little better than other approaches have (asking
him to apologise, explaining that he is scaring or hurting someone
and making them sad, sitting on a chair for a few minutes etc.) and
he stopped for a while, but the intimidation act is ongoing and when
it comes to strategies for this I am at a loss. </i></span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">The
fact that a little bit of explanation and reasoning worked, if only
in the short term, suggests to me yet again that Henry is perhaps
brighter than Polly might have realised. Most 4-yr-olds simply don't respond
particularly well to sophisticated explanations like this. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">As
for the 'other approaches' that have been tried- punishment is not
something that fixes the problem when a child has big feelings that
he needs to express. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">He won't <b>apologise</b>, or will resent having to do so, because he's <i>not sorry</i>. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">He can't <b>empathise</b> with the other children's pain, because he's still too young in social terms to have
developed fellow-feeling, and he doesn't <i>like </i>the other children
anyway; they're not his friends. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><b>Time out </b>just removes him from this community even more, and
breeds more resentment in his heart. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">I
would definitely stop using all these strategies, and continue to
converse with him. I'll explain a specific strategy to deal with the
violence later on.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i>Other
children that act out in our centre often do so out of boredom, and
once they are interested in something the behaviour stops, but with
Henry it is an ongoing, almost constant behaviour,...</i> </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">What
<i>are </i>Henry's interests? He must have some! Polly can ask him;
she can ask her colleagues; she can ask his parents. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">And
then she could try providing a <i>much more advanced</i> level of
activity, based on that interest, than one might think is appropriate
for a 4-year-old. Boredom is relative; if he's gifted, ALL the
activities in a 4-yr-old classroom may bore him to tears. Polly's
right- engaging Henry in a positive activity is vital to solving the problem. Right now,
he's telling her that nothing in the room interests him as much as
pressing the other children's buttons.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><i>...and
yet when he is wants to be he can be the sweetest little boy, helping
the babies and explaining things to other children etc. and I always
praise this behaviour but it seems to happen less and less. I am just
lost for what to do with him.</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Now,
there's another clue. When Henry is helping Polly, or 'teaching'
other children- i.e., taking a more adult role in the room- he feels
better about himself, behaves better and so is suddenly perceived as
a sweet child. That's another sign of giftedness; the child aligns
himself with the teachers, not with the children. It's this part of
Polly's enquiry that makes me feel that Henry is <i>not
</i>suffering from some sort of
diagnosable condition, despite his lack of emotional connection with
the other children. He can be kind to the other children <i>when he takes the role of an older person</i>. THAT is how he best fits in.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Polly
needs to pick that positive up and run with it. How can Henry help
within the room? Can he help to choose what toys will go out today?
Can he help to plan some activities? Polly could ask him what he
thinks the other children would like to do today, and go along with
some of his ideas. (He might surprise her.) She could treat him a
little bit more like an older child and give him some leadership
roles. She could ask him to help hand out resources, or plates and
cutlery at meal time. She could offer him challenges and
responsibilities, like making a certain play area look inviting to
the other children or choosing a theme for the week based on his
interests.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">Now,
to some strategies for when he's imploding. What about those many
times when Henry loses control and starts to hit, kick, push or
frighten other children?There is a peaceful and productive way to
deal with this without alienating Henry or putting other children at
risk, but it's not an instant fix. It needs consistency and total
calmness. Polly must teach this strategy to ALL the staff in her
room. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">There
is to be NO yelling, NO time out, NO forced apologies; focus simply
on stopping the unacceptable behaviour, not on shaming or punishing
the child. That hasn't worked. (The definition of insanity is to go
on doing the same thing and expecting a different result!)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i>The
moment Henry starts to hit, kick or frighten others, </i>remove
him physically from the situation (firmly but kindly, of course!) to
a quiet spot and take both his hands in yours. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">Get
down on his level, still holding his hands. Make eye contact. </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">Say
to him firmly but quietly, “Henry, I won't let you hit (or
kick/shout/push). When you touch (or speak to) other people, use
gentle hands (or a quiet voice).” </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Then
demonstrate what you want physically, by calmly unclenching his fist
and stroking his hand gently over your arm or by drawing his
attention to how you are speaking- in a quiet, calm voice.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;">If
he is still struggling, hold him firmly so he can't run back and
terrorise the other children and say calmly “I can see that you're
having trouble with some really big feelings. I am going to hold you
and be here for you until you feel better. I won't let you hurt/scare
the other children.” </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Another
alternative is to offer him another way to get rid of the big
feelings. “I won't let you hit other people. You can hit/kick this
cushion/this punching bag if you need to hit/kick.” Or, “If you
need to shout we will go outside for a moment.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Polly
and her colleagues have to stop changing strategies; they all have to
show him the boundary clearly and calmly, and enforce it quickly and
efficiently<i> every time</i>.
The aim of the game is to stop him hurting and scaring others, not to
moralise. Meltdown time is no time for discussion of why he's doing
it or how it makes the teachers' jobs harder. He's doing it because
he feels bad inside, and he doesn't know how else to relieve that
feeling. The adults need to be on his side, be there for him and help
him regain control.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">By
following this strategy, the staff will help Henry to feel safe <i>and
</i>teach him the rules of this
community without violence or shame. By talking with him in
non-meltdown moments about what to do to make him feel better, and so
addressing his special needs- and every preschool 'bully' has a
special need of some sort- we can give Henry the message that he is
important, worthwhile and understood, which will help him feel he's
part of this little community.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">At
four, a 'bully' needs both compassion and firm boundaries. The
teachers might get hit or kicked a few times. They must try not to
react. Remember who's the grown-up here! Take deep breaths, stay calm
and remember that Henry<i> really</i>
needs you.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">Henry
and every other preschool 'bully' need adult help to make sense of
their worlds. Polly and her colleagues have an opportunity to be a
life-changing force in Henry's development, but they won't be able to
do that unless they start looking much more closely at what Henry's
behaviour is telling them about how he feels while he's in their
classroom. As usual with any discipline problem, the answer starts
with relationship and understanding, and ends with loving but clear boundaries.</span></div>
Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-89785281784040652342012-09-20T16:47:00.003+10:002012-09-20T16:47:53.948+10:00Sharing our true selves: from baby talk to difficult eventsMaybe you saw<a href="http://abundantlifechildren.com/2012/09/17/4-small-changes-to-enrich-your-journey-with-young-children/"> this great post by Abundant Life Children</a>, about the small behavioural changes we can make in ourselves to improve our relationships with children. At the end, Emily invited readers to add their own tips for making small but effective changes to improve our journey together.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOlMefAQFMk/UFq7s9VvGgI/AAAAAAAAAlg/wxrN4mnPyIs/s1600/tafeproject003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOlMefAQFMk/UFq7s9VvGgI/AAAAAAAAAlg/wxrN4mnPyIs/s320/tafeproject003.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My baby got my true self from the start.<br />My career made me happy, and I never <br />hid that from him.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
My tip was that we should <i>share our true selves with our children</i>. I encouraged her readers to share their thoughts and feelings with their children honestly. And I thought I might elaborate on that a little, because there's a reason I feel so strongly about it.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Telling you to be authentic with your kids might seem to be stating the bleeding obvious, but in fact we dissemble a lot more than we realise. Let's start at the very beginning; some people habitually use baby-talk to communicate with small children, hiding their true voices behind a wall of 'cute'. Many of those adults never quite get out of the habit of talking down to kids.<br />
<br />
Take these examples.<br />
<br />
<i>Pammy wanna bicky? </i><br />
<i>Mummy wants Pammy to be quiet now. </i><br />
<i>We don't hurt our friends. </i><br />
<i>Because I said so, that's why!</i><br />
<br />
That's not how we talk in our normal lives. We say biscuit. We use personal pronouns. We don't really think we're part of our child's peer group. We don't tell other adults off like that.<br />
<br />
When we talk like that, we're not being our true selves; we've put on some weird vocal disguise for the purpose of talking to a child, and by adolescence that'll put a gulf of insincerity between us and our children.<br />
<br />
The language we use when we talk to children is just the start of being authentic and true to ourselves. Being ourselves extends to sharing important information with our kids, like our feelings and our worries and our joys. Sometimes we find this too hard, especially if we've used a 'talking to children' voice to put distance between us and our children; we just don't know how to use our real voice and let our kids know what's going on inside us.<br />
<br />
Even if we've always used an authentic voice, many of us conceal emotional realities from our children. Usually, it's done with well-meaning intent- whether to protect them from our own frighteningly intense feelings, or to protect them from some happening that we deem too big or too difficult or too <i>adult</i> for them to handle.<br />
<br />
Well, I'm here to tell you that children haven't lost touch with their instincts the way a lot of adults have. Children can read atmosphere, and just like adults, if they feel something big in the air that they don't understand, they'll feel uncomfortable, twitchy or even distressed. There's a reason that child psychologists always want to know what's happening at home before they deal with a behavioural problem.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, in an attempt to understand, children will project their own fears onto what they do know, and they'll come to some pretty scary conclusions. That's why many children end up believing that they are the cause of their parents' divorce. They've been left in the dark to invent a pattern of cause and effect for themselves. We can save them that sort of pain by being <i>authentic from the start</i> in speaking to our children about our feelings and about big, <i>adult </i>events like illness, death, divorce and heartache.<br />
<br />
Of course, we do need to speak with care. No child needs to know every last detail of your break-up with their father, and no child needs your anger with that father to spray out recklessly all over them. (Just to mention one example.) But a gentle account of the difficult time you're going through can be given, and it can be given early- before the toxic atmosphere starts to affect your child's emotions.<br />
<br />
You know that I'm going to tell you a story now, don't you?<br />
<br />
When I was about 12 or 13, my best friend and I used to walk home from school together. It was a journey of three suburbs, and it took us the best part of 40 minutes, but we both had an aversion to the jostling and preening that took place at the local train station, where attracting the eye of some gangling adolescent of the opposite sex seemed to be the game of choice. Of all the times we walked home like that- and there were hundreds- I remember only one clearly.<br />
<br />
I remember us walking up the steep hill on Edgeworth David Avenue, swinging our schoolbags; I can see it in technicolour. I can remember my friend's hairstyle, and the sound of her voice. I remember us arriving at the park where we always parted company, her to get her train connection further north, me to walk a few blocks to my house. I persuaded her into the park that day, where we sat swinging on the swings and talking about our day. I remember some passing schoolboys wolf-whistling me, and the feeling of shame because maybe I'd swung too high and they'd seen my undies.<br />
<br />
I remember it, because I didn't want to go home. Something was happening at home, and nobody was telling me about it, and I was sick with apprehension. All I knew was that my mother was in hospital. That was the sum total of my information.<br />
<br />
Now, I want you to put yourself in my 12-year-old shoes. Think of somebody close to you- as close as a much-loved parent. Listen to the whispering voices after bedtime, through the wall. Feel the tension rise in you as you overhear <i>hospital</i> and your loved one's name.<br />
<br />
Now wait- wait- and wait some more, right through the next few days, as you feel the atmosphere of your home close in with some unexplained darkness. You don't know if the darkness is real, or if you made it yourself. You can't say anything or ask any questions, because the atmosphere is too terrifying.<br />
<br />
Listen to the muttered, offhand, almost embarrassed words on the day. <i>"Your mother's going to hospital today."</i> That's all. Nothing more. Go to school like normal. Be expected to be normal in all you do. Show no emotion, because after all, you're used to certain things not being talked about. Nothing emotional is <i>ever </i>talked about.<br />
<br />
Shut down, until you get to the park and some stupid schoolboy whistles at you, and the shame allows all those feelings to explode in you and out of you. But wipe your face before you go home. You don't want anyone to know, because the message you've got is that This Is Not Talked About.<br />
<br />
Is that how you want your children to feel? Is that how you want them to behave? If you model shutting down on difficult feelings and worrying situations, believe you me, that's exactly what you'll get in return- cold distance and buried feelings.<br />
<br />
On this occasion, my mother came home without comment; a little more eavesdropping and I discovered that mysterious euphemism <i>'female troubles'</i>, though to this day I don't really know what happened. I'm sure my parents thought they were protecting me.<br />
<br />
My father went through the same charade many years later, when my mother was dying, and it took me a decade to recover; there was no way to repair the emotional connections by then, nor the feeling of betrayal because he'd tried to deceive me. The time to start sharing your real feelings is at the beginning, when it's easy- not at the end. The prognosis was terminal, both for my mother and for my relationship with my father.<br />
<br />
But back to you, and your relationship with your kids.<br />
<br />
You know, it's actually better to tell your children that you've woken up really cranky and tired today than it is to yell at them for no apparent reason. It's better to tell them that you're feeling sad because Nanny's very sick than to let them worry that they've done something terrible (and that's why you're not talking to them or playing with them). It's better to tell them that you and your partner are having some problems finding enough money to pay all the bills than to let them hear unexplained arguments after bedtime.<br />
<br />
What I learnt from my parents' constant shut-down on difficult emotions was that it was something I didn't want to inflict on my child, because it was too bloody painful in the long term. Maybe my child got told a bit too much sometimes, but at least he didn't have to imagine and project and be fearful. And today, he and I have an adult relationship. We are pretty frank about our feelings, even the hard ones. It's not a perfect relationship, but it's an honest one, and our hugs are huge and genuine.<br />
<br />
If that's what you want with your children, well, it's your move. Start now. Don't wait for the really hard moments before you share your true self.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-56119022263686050392012-09-16T17:15:00.001+10:002012-09-16T17:18:30.532+10:00About teaching two Rs, and moving a donkey<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H4k5vV6PCr4/UFV42G-u8JI/AAAAAAAAAk0/Ru7th0VuSNg/s1600/100_0627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H4k5vV6PCr4/UFV42G-u8JI/AAAAAAAAAk0/Ru7th0VuSNg/s320/100_0627.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring the shape of 4. I didn't say<br />
a single word. This is self-directed<br />
learning.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Pushing down the curriculum is a hot topic in Early Childhood circles at the moment. Developmentally speaking, it's quite clear that young children learn through self-directed play- and that hounding them to sit down and learn their alphabet and their numbers is actually counter-productive. (Don't mention worksheets. PLEASE, don't mention them. And if you mention homework for preschoolers, I may have to block you.)<br />
<br />
Honestly, the way some education authorities are behaving, it's like they've decided that children's academic progress is some sort of donkey that they have to get moving against its will. They push the donkey driver in the back, and the donkey driver looks scared and whips the donkey, and the donkey looks around stubbornly as if to say "I'll go when I'm ready" and stays right where it is, and the donkey driver gets blamed. Pushing a donkey is idiotic and ineffective, and so is pushing down the curriculum so the teachers have to try to force all little children to learn their letters and numbers whether or not they're ready.<br />
<br />
But that doesn't mean that we can't expose our children to literacy and numeracy in the early years. In fact, even in EC facilities where play-based learning is at the fore of programming, teachers are required to provide literacy and numeracy experiences.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
So, <b>how</b> do we do that without pushing down the curriculum? Is this yet another tightrope we have to walk along?<br />
<br />
Julie, one of my readers, has asked:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"I would love to hear your opinion on introducing children</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> (2-4) to the alphabet in hands on/other ways? Do you see </i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>benefit, drawbacks, necessity?? Thanks in advance for any </i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 13.600000381469727px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>insight or information you might be willing to offer!"</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
That question immediately reminded me of my mother. She used to tell me how she'd taught my brother to recognise letters when he was just a toddler. She bought him some wooden blocks with the letters of the alphabet written on them, and a little wooden trailer in which to cart them about. Every so often, one would fall out, and she'd say "Pick up the B- it's fallen off." Or he'd be building, and she'd say "Do you want me to pass you the M to put on top?"<br />
<br />
That's not pushing. That's just casually identifying the letters in the course of play; my mother didn't <i>interrupt</i> my brother's block-carting or tower-building to make him repeat "it's a B!" or "it's an M!" like a parrot until he got it right. There was no pressure, just a tiny piece of information dropped into his play. He was ready, so he picked up the information along with the block.<br />
<br />
And that's really what we're aiming for when we program literacy and numeracy experiences for very young children- a relaxed, cheerful and supportive play experience which puts some information out there so that the children can pick it up <i>if they're ready</i>. I did a similar thing with my son using fridge magnets, naming the letter or number that had fallen off the fridge and asking him if he could put it back, but never asking him to feed the information back to me. Or he would hand me a letter, and I'd say "Oh, thank you! I'll put the Z back."<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
The initial idea is to make letter and number shapes familiar to children before you even start to name them. So for a toddler, you could enhance literacy or numeracy by putting out an alphabet or 1- 10 jigsaw<i> without pushing the issue </i>of what order the letters and numbers come in or what they're called; that really isn't important now. What's important is <b>PLAY, </b>because play sets the stage within the child's mind for a positive mindset and self-directed interest in learning, and<b> RELATIONSHIP, </b>because a child will usually absorb more information when it arrives in the context of a loving and caring external atmosphere. In that secure, non-pressured setting, the child can feel and see the shapes of those letters. That's literacy. They can struggle over and over again <i>without a feeling of failure </i>to fit them into the same-shaped holes. That's geometry.<br />
<br />
You can play with literacy and numeracy in so many ways if you have letter and number shapes available. Pressing shapes into playdough with letters and numbers, for example, gives you an opportunity to name them in a way that can be integrated seamlessly into play. Put some letter blocks in the block box. Put some number stamps with the cute butterfly and cow stamps. Now get down on the floor or sit at the table with the kids and join the <i>play</i>, referring to those letters and numbers by their names as you enjoy the <i>relationship </i>with them.<br />
<br />
Parents of multiple children often notice how the younger ones seem to pick up these academic concepts more quickly than the oldest one did- it's because they're exposed to their siblings (relationship) talking about them and using the concepts in their play, without pressure to know or recite anything themselves. Hold that thought, and drip some information into play <i>without any pressure on the child to perform</i>.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z5c_UE6Em1s/UFV5IC7tPQI/AAAAAAAAAk8/DajcFYm69Wk/s1600/100_0760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z5c_UE6Em1s/UFV5IC7tPQI/AAAAAAAAAk8/DajcFYm69Wk/s320/100_0760.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preschoolers love finding their own <br />
name on a list.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Once a child starts to show interest in their own name and age, of course, it opens another avenue. My preschoolers used to love trying to make 'their' letter (the initial of their Christian name) with the big blocks. That's a literacy experience, as is making 'their' letter out of playdough or trying to write 'their' letter on paper or on a chalk board. Don't correct them- bite your tongue. Just let them try, and narrate their efforts in a positive way. "Jennie is trying to make her letter. Look, she's using a straight block and a curvy block."<br />
<br />
The curve goes the wrong way? Shhh. Too soon. Criticise, and you risk killing an interest by creating a sense of failure.<br />
<br />
I often hold up the cover of the books at story time in a preschool room and asked the children if they can see 'their' letter anywhere on the cover. The responses are always enthusiastic, and usually tell me a lot! Some children will be able to identify their own letter, and some will find the letters of their friends as well. Others will hang back and say nothing. Shhh. Too soon. Don't push.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hXJFeW4P74I/UFV2qywj7wI/AAAAAAAAAks/L5qAF6QBl2w/s1600/reading+magic.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hXJFeW4P74I/UFV2qywj7wI/AAAAAAAAAks/L5qAF6QBl2w/s320/reading+magic.jpeg" width="218" /></a></div>
Naturally, books are a rich source of playful literacy experiences, and the more you read to children the more literate they'll become. (Mem Fox, the author of 'Possum Magic', has written a wonderful book for parents on this subject called <b><a href="http://books.google.com.au/books/about/Reading_Magic.html?id=bQ0QAQAAMAAJ&redir_esc=y">'Reading Magic'</a></b>- highly recommended.) Just reading a familiar story over and over at the child's request- perhaps with your finger following the words as you read, once the story is well known- can be enough to encourage an early reader. Yes, I know, if you read 'Dear Zoo' one more time you'll scream. Shhh. By the fiftieth time, your child may be able to read "so they sent me a..." all by herself.<br />
<br />
Once you've got the finger following the words, you can play games like 'reading' the wrong word and letting your child correct you- that's play!- or stopping when you get to a crucial word and letting your child 'read' that word for you- that's play! If reading times are playful and if they are part of a close, loving relationship with you, a child will learn to read by osmosis. They'll just suck it in without knowing they're learning.<br />
<br />
The more the written word is present in a child's environment, and the more interest respected and loved adults show in words, the better the child's chance of becoming literate. Read the paper in sight of the children- read some of it out loud to them, if it's appropriate. Sit down with a book of your own to read. Have books available and visible all the time for both children and adults.<br />
<br />
Write by hand in the presence of your children. Tell them what you're writing; read it to them, even if it's only a shopping list, the moment they show interest. I used to write up observations of the children in the preschool room at 'quiet time'; the kids were always asking me what I was writing, then trying to identify the capital letters. Some would be able to identify their own name and ask me to read what I wrote about them (which I did).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Op--LZDwH4I/TcAGuDcRpQI/AAAAAAAAAFw/L8ff2t2apAQ/s1600/100_0068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Op--LZDwH4I/TcAGuDcRpQI/AAAAAAAAAFw/L8ff2t2apAQ/s320/100_0068.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A story by a group of preschoolers</td></tr>
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<b><a href="http://auntannieschildcare.blogspot.com.au/2011/05/preschooler-as-author-first-steps-in.html">Help the children make up their own stories,</a></b> and write them down for them as they watch. To young children, this is like magic- their own words, written down! Wow! Ask them about their drawings, and write down what they say. More magic! Understanding the function of the written word is half the battle towards them <i>wanting </i>to learn to read and write. The more you demonstrate that function in a way that involves the children <i>personally</i>, the more they'll crave literacy skills.<br />
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As for counting- again, if you drop number skills into everyday activities and play, they'll get sucked up by osmosis in a meaningful way. I can remember asking my son if he'd like one biscuit or two (showing him the numbers with my fingers) before he could walk- which places the event somewhere before 11 months of age- and him giggling and replying 'two' with two fingers raised. By four, he was multiplying by two, and I never taught him that at all. Yes, sure, he's gifted; but the point is he taught himself, because the atmosphere was conducive to it. I was always commenting on the numerical properties of his playthings, like the number of wheels on his toy trains. "How many do you need?" is a very useful question to promote numeracy. It makes the child <i>want </i>to think about number.<br />
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Setting the table is an exercise in one-to-one correspondence if you play it right (matching the number of forks or plates to the number of people). Counting to ten or twenty is less meaningful in terms of numeracy than having a grasp of one-to-one in the early years, so stay away from rote counting unless it's fun and in the context of play- go for the matching experiences instead, and make it as fun as you can. "One spoon for you, one spoon for me, and- oh-oh! We haven't got a spoon for daddy! We need three spoons, not two. Can you get me another one please?" If a child helps set the table every day, and if you make it a time of <i>fun and positive attention</i> rather than a test of some sort, numeracy will come along in leaps and bounds.<br />
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Again, it's all about the presence of numeracy in the everyday, and how much fun you make it seem, and how functional you show it to be, and how positive your relationship is with this child. Even preschoolers will learn functional things about fractions if you're cutting up a cake to share and talk it cheerfully through with them so they have agency in the decision-making. Use practical, meaningful experiences to talk about numbers- not rote recitation and worksheets.<br />
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But back to Julie's question. Do I see benefits? Absolutely. Demonstrating the function of literacy and numeracy, making it fun and making those experiences a time of connection with your children will prime those children for academic learning without destroying their vital <i>social </i>learning processes, which are the real 'work' of early childhood. And yes, I believe that this sort of learning is every child's right- it is a necessity for children to be exposed to literacy and numeracy in the early years.<br />
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There are NO drawbacks to teaching literacy and numeracy like this, but there are very real drawbacks to pushing down the curriculum by sitting small children at desks and making them learn about letters and numbers through <i>being told</i>. (For a start, that is a highly ineffectual way to teach a 4-yr-old. That's really not how your average 4-yr-old learns ANYTHING.)<br />
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Do we really want to be creating a sense of failure in a 4-yr-old, or (heaven forbid) an even younger child? Do we really want to give an older child burnout, because they've had formal learning pushed down their throat for too long? Do we really want our children to start school able to recite the alphabet and count to thirty, but unable to get along with their peers?<br />
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No, we do not. Get the learning environment right, get the teacher-child relationship right, get the activities right, and children will learn the basics without even knowing it. Get it wrong, and many will simply turn off; others will learn<i> at the expense of more vital life skills</i>.<br />
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It IS like moving a donkey, really. Dangle carrots. Never push. The donkey will move when it's motivated.<br />
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<br />Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-12924691861682552992012-09-06T14:43:00.000+10:002012-09-06T14:50:09.887+10:00How to be an 'expert' problem-solver: 3 tipsSome of you may have read <a href="http://anhonestmom.wordpress.com/2012/09/02/daycare-advice-from-an-expert/"><b>this recent post by An Honest Mom</b></a>, in which she very kindly refers to me as an 'expert' after I gave her some advice about her child's problems at daycare.<br />
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Well, you know, that got me thinking, because 'expert' is a word that I would usually associate with having lots of degrees in a certain field of learning, a very high profile amongst one's colleagues and possibly a bit of media coverage... hmm, this doesn't sound like me! I mean, it's not like I've got a Masters in Early Childhood or write a regular column for Rattler Magazine or anything. </div>
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Sure, I've spent a lot of time with children. So have a lot of other people, and some of them would give advice that makes your skin crawl. So it's not just about my experience.</div>
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And that made me think that if<i> I </i>can develop some expertise without impressive pieces of paper and world-wide kudos, maybe it's not beyond <i>you </i>to become an 'expert' in dealing with your child's problems. I started to break down what it is that's made me a source of expertise. Maybe if you follow in my footsteps, you can empower yourself as a problem-solver.</div>
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<b>1. </b>My first advantage in achieving 'expertise' about children is that I have a memory like an elephant.<b> I can actually <i>remember </i>what it was like to be a child. </b><br />
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I can remember what it felt like when people said negative things about me over the top of my head, as though I was deaf or stupid, and how it made me doubt myself. I can remember being compared unfavourably to my brother by my piano teacher, and how it affected my playing. I remember the emotional pain of being bullied, and what helped me to survive that. </div>
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I can remember how it felt to be encouraged, and to have my opinions respected. I remember the joy of finding a supportive teacher in front of my class, and I recall much of what that teacher did to help me. I remember the joy of<i> finally</i> being heard when my parents bought me the guitar that I'd craved, despite it not fitting in with their own music preferences- finally, they acknowledged that <i>I </i>was not <i>them</i>.</div>
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I apply all that <i>remembering</i> to everything I say in this blog. </div>
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And so I exhort you to sit down quietly by yourself and remember your childhood, warts and all. What happened to you, and how did you <i>feel</i> about it? Were you anything <i>less </i>than a human being, with certain rights? Did you overhear things that hurt you? Did your parents' and teachers' discipline strategies change your internal morality for the better, or were you just compliant because you were afraid? And so on.</div>
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What pitfalls can you avoid? What dignity can you provide for your children, that you would have liked to have for yourself? Are you being 'just like your mother', and is that a good thing or a bad thing? Travel back in time, and really let yourself<i> feel </i>your childhood.</div>
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This is how I put myself in a child's shoes when I'm asked to help with a problem- by remembering. You can do that too. Remembering stops me from acting superior, just on the basis of age and size and experience. I might<i> know</i> more than a child, but I don't <i>feel </i>more. </div>
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Hold that thought.</div>
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<b>2. </b>Another thing that helps me to be an 'expert' is my genuine interest in children. Because I'm interested in them, I find it very easy to<b> be<i> totally present </i>for them for a decent part of each day</b>. When I'm with children, I don't actually <i>want </i>to be on my computer or my mobile phone, because I have allowed these small but complete human beings to engage my brain and my heart- and that's actually more fun and more uplifting than anything I could do by text message or online. I acknowledge that I have something of a technology addiction, and that I enjoy that addiction very much. BUT I can put it aside in the presence of children, and pick it up again in my own time.</div>
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Nurture that interest in your own child. Yes, children can be VERY wearing, but if you look away for too long you'll lose the connection. You too can put down the distractions if you choose, and look into your child's eyes with genuine interest and love. You too can engage with them on an authentic level, where you tell them how you <i>really </i>feel and what you <i>really </i>think using your normal tone of voice. </div>
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And because children copy what's modelled to them, you too can then reap the reward of your child being completely honest with you <i>most </i>of the time (which is half the battle when it comes to trouble-shooting) and telling you what they really think and feel. Having a child who shares with you makes it SO much easier to be an expert on what makes them tick. Children recognise when someone's being real and when they're being fake. I <i>remember </i>that from my childhood- do you?</div>
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If we spend a lot of our time running away from engagement with our children, whether through a strict extra-curricular schedule or through time-wasting on our iPhones or through any one of the numerous barriers we can put up against intimacy when we're overwhelmed, we'll never be experts. We<i> must </i>engage, even when it's difficult or we're not in the mood. I find that when I hide my feelings or hide what's really happening from the children I care for, that's when I get into trouble. When we relieve ourselves of that burden of pretence and give our children some credit for resilience, it all becomes easier. (Of course, we must choose our words carefully and age-appropriately, but we must speak the truth!)</div>
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<b>NB:</b> <b>To be an 'expert', we must also schedule some time out for ourselves, because nobody can engage ALL the time. </b>We must reasonable with ourselves and give ourselves rights to recreation and recovery time. If we half-engage all the time, we'll never be experts- and we'll never get the relief we crave, either. We'll just end up crabby, exhausted and resentful. A decent dose of full-on engagement each day, plus at least <i>some</i> full-on respite- that's the goal.</div>
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<b>3. </b>The last thing that helps me to be an 'expert' is my ability to see problems visually. That might surprise you if you've identified me as an intellectual and deep thinker. I am a visual learner, and at times I've even resorted to <b>brainstorming and drawing pictures to sort out situations that seemed overwhelming.</b></div>
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Brainstorming a problem and writing down<i> everything </i>that's happening around that problem can be so enlightening. Many years ago when I was having problems in a new relationship, when 'talking it out' and positivity hadn't helped and I was in grave danger of becoming overwhelmed, I started brainstorming the situation with a list of what was happening in our lives. It looked something like this:</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">trouble at work - our careers under threat?</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">fights at home nearly every night</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">disagreements about parenting</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">fights about your drinking</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">saying hurtful things to me when you're drunk</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">ex-partners (both)- divorce/separation</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">your court case with builder</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">my mother's death- my sadness / need</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">you don't like yourself?</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I just want to be loved </span></i></div>
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The list didn't help me much. It was still overwhelming.</div>
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But then, because I'm a visual type of person, I started to draw how those things interacted. Look, I'm not trying to be an artist when I'm solving problems. I just want to join some dots and see how things relate to one another. Stick figures rule, ok? </div>
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I drew my partner. I drew me. And then I drew the forces at work on us, until the real problem became clear. </div>
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It took me a few goes. This is something like what I ended up with, from memory:</div>
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Can you see the problem? I could, once I drew the picture. That person wasn't ready for a relationship until they could deal with their own problems without the haze of alcohol. The bottle was preventing us from resolving anything; it was like a brick wall that I kept trying to go around and over- but my new partner was having a relationship with the brick wall, not with me.</div>
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These days I seem to have given so much advice to so many people that I can do the sorting and picture-drawing in my head, but I'd suggest that writing down ALL the factors is a very good first step to problem solving. Don't just write down what you think is relevant to your own main issue. <b>Write down all the things that are happening around your child. </b>Try to arrange them in different ways, join some dots, and see if you can work out how things are <i>interacting </i>to cause the problem.</div>
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Don't censor your list. For example, if you're fighting with your partner after your child's bedtime, take yourself back to your own bed when you were a child, and listen to the fighting through the wall. <b>Remember</b> the times when you were small, when you were aware that something was wrong but nobody would tell you what was going on. How did you feel? How does your child feel? What unexplained changes are impacting on your child?</div>
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Maybe you don't know enough about the problem yet. <b>Engage with your child. </b>What can you find out by being authentic and sharing your own feelings and thoughts, then listening attentively?</div>
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This approach isn't a magic formula. Of course, my many years working with children give me some understandings that the average parent may not be able to access. Of course, when you're feeling overwhelmed it's good to ask for help. Of course, some problems need expert intervention.</div>
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But if you can implement some of these strategies, it will strengthen your bond with your child and it will help you to feel empowered instead of helpless. Those things in themselves can solve some problems. </div>
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Making lists and doing drawings will also give you some excellent preparatory material to take with you, if you do eventually need to consult an expert. It's very hard to remember all the factors in a problem when you're paying by the minute. It's even hard to include all the relevant factors in a Facebook message if you haven't thought about it first.</div>
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Oh, and just because I wrote this post doesn't mean I won't help you any more. You can still ask Aunt Annie! </div>
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Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-11420577323708458012012-08-29T19:40:00.000+10:002012-08-29T19:40:39.034+10:00The power of nature: fighting kids, troubled adultsA while ago I was down south nannying for a friend. You probably remember me mentioning the two adorable little girls who were in the middle of a huge sibling rivalry stage. It's a really common problem, but to me, seeing it up close, it just resembled what happens during a spell of miserable weather in the preschool room at childcare; after a while, <i>kids just need more ego space</i>.<br />
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I can remember taking my class out into a soaking wet slippery playground one day the<i> instant</i> it stopped pouring with rain, just because they were in far more danger of harming each other inside. Yes, someone slipped over and cried, but at least nobody split their head open on the corner of a bookcase when they fell due to running around crazily indoors. Children are just as susceptible to claustrophobia and the irritation of forced company as we are.<br />
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And so I fell back on that knowledge while I was nannying. Every time those purry little pussycats began acting like tigers, showing their claws and laying into each other in word or deed, I'd take them outside. For a while, they'd continue to compete and squabble. But then nature would work its magic on them.<br />
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First, as you can see in the picture above, they'd find their own space; I can't begin to tell you how important that is. Kids <i>do</i> need some ego room. They're no more fond of being crowded on top of one another all day than we are.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NitFiWyuPP8/UD1BSImK_ZI/AAAAAAAAAi4/m1YFqQwxBdY/s1600/100_0279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NitFiWyuPP8/UD1BSImK_ZI/AAAAAAAAAi4/m1YFqQwxBdY/s320/100_0279.JPG" width="320" /></a>After a while, once they'd calmed down, they'd really get involved in and fascinated by the properties of the natural world. The temptation to share their discoveries would be overwhelming; it would draw them together, whereas ownership of a brightly-coloured, manufactured toy always seemed to tear them apart.<br />
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Nobody owns nature, you see. But it is endlessly fascinating.<br />
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In the end, they would find a way to co-operate and play together without fighting, at least for a while.<br />
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What's not to like about that?<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M_vPRr523Xw/UD1BJUHdcdI/AAAAAAAAAig/7SM1Smo6wZY/s1600/100_0252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M_vPRr523Xw/UD1BJUHdcdI/AAAAAAAAAig/7SM1Smo6wZY/s320/100_0252.JPG" width="320" /></a>This strategy worked over and over again. Even when the outdoor space involved some manufactured equipment, the strategy worked.<br />
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They'd start out doing things in their own space...<br />
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...oh yes, there was still an element of competition there- <i>who could go the highest</i> was important for a while- but soon they started to compete against <i>themselves</i> instead of against each other. <i>Can I go higher than last time?</i><br />
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SO much healthier.<br />
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And then, with their angst worked out, they'd find a way to play co-operatively. Hurrah!<br />
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Do you see how they've used natural objects imaginatively here, to invent their own game? The long stem of bamboo was a 'found' object in the park. You don't need expensive goalposts and nets.<br />
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(You do need a ball, but there are ways of 'inventing' one of those, too! Ever made a ball out of old work socks, rolled, twisted and folded? It even bounces!)<br />
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Here are my little tigers again, on another day-<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0BLQ6G4ZXA/UD1BXw2PHZI/AAAAAAAAAjI/4WVR3Md4TIo/s1600/100_0319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0BLQ6G4ZXA/UD1BXw2PHZI/AAAAAAAAAjI/4WVR3Md4TIo/s320/100_0319.JPG" width="320" /></a>first playing in their own space...<br />
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and then co-operating.<br />
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That's a valuable message for anyone who's having issues with their kids fighting. If you get them outside and they're STILL fighting, find a larger and less populated space. The day I took these kids to another very popular local playground, which had fabulous equipment but was crowded with other families, they fought harder than ever. We got out of there quick smart and found them some ego room!<br />
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But the value of this message doesn't just apply to our kids. This was brought home to me very recently, when I had back-to-back visits from two seriously traumatised adult friends.<br />
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I live in the forest, you see. Here, nature is all around us, and even the house is a sort of outdoors-when-you're-indoors house, with big verandas and lots of big doors and windows. And when my friends come here, suffering from their various heartaches, they all discover a magical quality here.<br />
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First, they can sleep. There's something about being in the outdoors nearly all day that promotes relaxation, whether you're out of your mind with worry or not. It's quiet here. It's beautiful. You can let your worries drift away when you're in a quiet and beautiful place.<br />
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Second, they get involved with the outdoors, because the outdoors is where we are every day; there's always something to do here. I mean, look at these.<br />
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We're doing some building works here at the moment, which to an environmentally sensitive person like me means leaving a minimal carbon footprint- using materials off our own property. So these trees had to be respectfully and carefully selected, felled and the bark stripped off.<br />
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Well, there's nothing like thumping an ironbark log with a blocksplitter to get out your feelings of frustration and anger with a failed relationship. There's nothing like ripping and prising the loosened bark with your bare hands, and finally exposing the beautiful surface of the wood, to make you feel like you're really in touch with the earth. It gets things back in proportion. You realise that your entire worth and ability isn't tied up in any one person or event or activity; you just made something naturally beautiful appear, with your own focussed efforts.<br />
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And you filled your lungs with air, and you stretched and worked your muscles, and while you did it you were surrounded by the songs of unseen birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind. Suddenly nothing seems quite so bad.<br />
<br />
I watched nature help to heal my two friends while they were here. They went home calmer, happier and more prepared to deal with their problems.<br />
<br />
And I thought, we Early Childhood bloggers are all trying to encourage people to get their <i>kids </i>outdoors, but what about the <i>adults</i>? What about the parents, what about the childcare workers? How you look after the children in your care depends so much on your own state of mind. Are we all taking time out in nature to heal our hurts?<br />
<br />
Go and find somewhere beautiful nearby. Maybe you'll have to drive for an hour to get there, but find that quiet and beautiful place. Don't just take your kids there- take yourself there. <br />
<br />
Because hello- <i>you</i> deserve some peace and healing too.Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-74096761711644477212012-08-17T09:15:00.001+10:002012-08-17T09:15:19.792+10:00Playing with gunsEvery time I go to work, I spend part of my day bashing my head against a brick wall. I'm not alone- I know that. I think that if I took a vote amongst Early Childhood workers about the playground rule most often broken by young children- the rule which is the most completely <i>futile</i> and requires constant, constant reinforcement without any hope of long-term success- it'd be this one.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>NO PLAYING WITH GUNS.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can play at being a policeman. But<br />you can't play with a gun.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was a 'no guns' mum. I'm a peace-loving person. I'm distressed by criminal gun use, from robberies to massacres- aren't we all? I cringe at legal gun use too, from policemen shooting mentally ill people by mistake (yep, that happened here fairly recently) to the condoned violence of war.<br />
<br />
I hate it when I see on TV <i>every single night </i>the suffering caused to ordinary people by real-life gun use. I hate the way guns are used to solve problems in books and on screens. I don't want that quick-fix, no-think solution modelled to the world's children. I don't want the world's children growing up with guns being <i>normalised</i> like that. I don't want kids to think guns are toys.<br />
<br />
So when my son was young, I had a rule. (Lots of urban parents have this rule in Australia, though it's probably different in other demographics.)<br />
<br />
<i>No toy guns in this house. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I started out my Early Childhood career as a no-guns teacher, too. I fitted right in; nearly every centre where I worked had a rule about that.<br />
<br />
<i>No guns at school. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And,<br />
<br />
<i>We don't shoot our friends, not even pretending. </i><br />
<br />
All very well in theory; but as I've discovered over time, our homes and our care centres exist within the real world, not in some fairy-floss land constructed by well-meaning adults. There are guns included in the spy and soldier and cowboy costumes at the toy shop, and guns used in superhero movies and cop shows and cartoons, and real guns on the news. There are guns in the hands of police on the street, guns in the hands of soldiers and in the holsters of security guards. There are dads who play Paintball with paint guns, and there are big brothers who play shoot-'em-up video games with virtual guns.<br />
<br />
This is the real world, and in the real world <i>children copy what they see others do</i>. That's what children are hard-wired to do; it's one of the ways they learn.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I started my turn-around on gun play when I started reading a blog by a mum whose partner is in the navy, <b><a href="http://mommainprogress.blogspot.com.au/">Momma in Progress</a></b>. One day when I was thinking about gun play I put myself in that mum's shoes, and I thought <i>hang on. In her world, a gun may well be part of daddy's tool kit. </i>I expect that this mum, and many other parents with military connections, deeply believe that weapons are a legitimate part of daddy's <i>positive</i> role as a keeper of the peace. Why wouldn't a child of a military family want to play at doing daddy's job sometimes- just like the child whose dad is a truck driver, or a builder, or a farmer?<br />
<br />
And then I thought, what happens <i>socially </i>when the children of the military go to preschool and are told that using guns is bad? And what about the children of the police, security guards and other 'good guys' who use a gun? Is banning gun play a form of discrimination against these children? Will these children feel a sense of <i>belonging</i> to their school community if gun play is viewed as intrinsically bad?<br />
<br />
Why <i>do</i> we always frame gun play as bad, regardless of the context of the children's play? We always seem to think the worst of children who want to run around with a fantasy gun. We're quick to apply labels. Why is that?<br />
<br />
These are questions that I certainly never thought about when I first started working in Early Childhood. I think it's important we do think about them, because the definition of insanity is to go on doing something that's not working, expecting a different result.<br />
<br />
And making rules about gun play is not working. Here is a run-down of your average day in a preschool room full of energetic, four-year-old boys where there is a 'no gun play' rule.<br />
<br />
<br />
You start off with a rule that the kids aren't allowed to have toy guns. You don't supply them, and the kids aren't allowed to bring them from home.<br />
<br />
The moment you turn your back, Johnny and Jimmy have made L-shapes out of a few pieces of building kit and they're pointing them at each other. <i>P-chow!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Oops; immediately, we need another rule.<br />
<br />
<i>No making guns with the Lego. No making guns with the Mobilo. No building guns, full stop!</i><br />
<br />
But the desire is strong. Where there's a will there's a way. Maybe they'll go round the corner, or wait till you're not looking, to play with their make-do guns.<br />
<br />
Or maybe they'll just get devious.<br />
<br />
"It's not a gun. It's a magic wand / laser stick / invisible-making-shape-shifter-space-rocket-blaster / (fill in each child's favourite fantastic truth-bender)."<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NMFqdTsRR3I/UC19QWN2NtI/AAAAAAAAAg4/aOW2LzxbYDc/s1600/101_0017-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NMFqdTsRR3I/UC19QWN2NtI/AAAAAAAAAg4/aOW2LzxbYDc/s1600/101_0017-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"It's not a gun, it's a<br />bow and arrow."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What to do then? Believe them, or call them liars? You know in your heart that they're just trying to put you off the scent, but probably you'd rather believe these children are essentially not deceitful... and you can't <i>prove </i>they intended the toys to be guns...<br />
<br />
Of course, you could always put away the Lego, and the Mobilo, and the paper towel tubes, and every-other-possible-thing-you-can-make-a-gun-from.<br />
<br />
(That's <i>ridiculous.</i>)<br />
<br />
But it doesn't matter what you do or say. Take away their creations, turn around twice, and they've picked up sticks and are pointing them at each other. <i>P-chow</i>!!<br />
<br />
Oops. Time for another rule.<br />
<br />
<i>No playing with sticks. No pretend guns out of sticks.</i><br />
<br />
Ban that, turn around twice, and they're shooting their fingers at each other. <i>P-chow! Tchoo! Tchoo!</i><br />
<br />
What are you going to do now? Ban pointing? Ban saying "<i>p-CHOW!</i>"? (Good luck.)<br />
<br />
What a lot of rules. What a lot of negativity. ECTs know we're supposed to allow the children to follow their interests, yet here we are making a whole string of restrictive rules about an obvious interest. Some of the children are ignoring those rules completely, because their interest is <i>so strong</i>.<br />
<br />
Is there another way?<br />
<br />
I believe there is. I believe we can forge a middle course between encouraging mock-violence and banning gun play. (And remember, I <i>hate</i> guns.)<br />
<br />
If we've done our reading and research, we'll know that children <i>need</i> to experiment with power and control; often they do this through role play. This is one of the ways that children learn empathy.<br />
<br />
Think of an example like this, which I've seen unfold in the playground many times. The child is playing 'policeman' and using his 'gun' to help him put the baddie in jail, because that's what he's seen on TV. Then another child comes into the game and 'releases' the prisoner.<br />
<br />
When you look at the whole picture, the policeman-with-a-gun game is a reflection of a pretty normal aspect of our society, and it's also made a stage for another child to practise empathy- he sees his friend 'locked up' and enters the game to set him free. These role plays are <i>good </i>things, not bad things. If the play gets too rough, the other children will protest- you bet your life they will. (And then we can take control on the basis of the <i>roughness</i>, not on the basis of a blanket ban on the fantasy tool.)<br />
<br />
Children engaging in gun play are not typically shooting at the good guys, are they? They're trying to control 'the bad guys'. And while we may not <i>like</i> seeing children using 'guns' to do so, they're only copying what's around them; they're only experimenting with power, as seen in the adult and the fictional world.<br />
<br />
Putting a negative value on every bit of play involving a pretend 'gun' doesn't eliminate the children's desire. It only puts a barrier between us and the kids- it builds a wall between our personal knowledge of the subject and the children's curiosity. It creates a situation where the children are prepared to defy us to explore their interest, and that's never a good look.<br />
<br />
And so my 'middle course' would start with removing the value judgments and knocking down that wall. I've never tried this, mind you. I'm still in the construction stages of this new philosophy. I'll welcome your comments to help me to refine my strategy.<br />
<br />
I'd start by sitting down with all the kids at mat time after I'd witnessed the first gun play of the year, and I'd say,<br />
<br />
"Let's talk about guns."<br />
<br />
(I can guarantee that I'd have the perpetrators' attention right there.)<br />
<br />
I'd narrate what I'd seen in the playground, and I'd ask those involved to tell us about the game they'd been playing.<br />
<br />
And then I'd stimulate discussion. I'd follow the threads that the children's game suggested. I might throw in some questions, depending on where the children's contributions led.<br />
<br />
"What are guns used for?"<br />
<br />
"What sorts of people use guns?"<br />
<br />
"What do guns look like?"<br />
<br />
"Has anybody seen a real gun?"<br />
<br />
"Where have you seen pictures of guns?"<br />
<br />
"Does anybody have a story to tell about a gun?"<br />
<br />
"Do you think guns are a good thing or a bad thing?"<br />
<br />
I would certainly ask this question:<br />
<br />
"Some people feel safe with pretend guns around, and some people feel scared. What do <i>you </i>feel when people play gun games near you? Do you feel excited? Do you feel scared? Do you feel bored?"<br />
<br />
(Note that my first project of the year is always to explore feelings, to help the children increase their vocabulary of 'feeling' words, so they should feel comfortable with this approach.)<br />
<br />
And this question may well come up naturally from that:<br />
<br />
"Do we need to make some rules about gun games to keep everyone safe and happy?"<br />
<br />
Teacher Tom has a <b><a href="http://teachertomsblog.blogspot.com.au/2011/08/community-of-their-own-creation.html">very fine post about giving the children agency in making room rules</a></b>, and I would model what happened next on that. I do recommend that you have a look at that post, if you haven't already done so. (The crux of it is that to be written up on the list, a rule must be agreed on by the whole group, and certainly not just imposed by the teacher.) It is ever so much easier to maintain rules which <i>the children themselves</i> have agreed on.<br />
<br />
Perhaps we would end up with a rule that gun play is allowed in a certain area only, or that 'guns' must not be pointed at people's faces, or that if someone says 'stop' you have to listen. But the vital element is that each rule must be put forward by and agreed on by the children; the teacher nudges rather than leading.<br />
<br />
This would be a complex discussion. Any teacher leading a 4-year-old group discussion on such a controversial subject would need to be on his or her toes, reminding the children of prior agreed rules that gun play must not break (for example, some classes have a standing rule of 'be kind') <i>without putting a general label on the role play</i>.<br />
<br />
These issues are not too complex for four-year-olds to toss around if the teacher has thought carefully about it beforehand. Releasing the lock-down on the topic of guns allows us to share our own feelings and reasoning, and it allows the children to do the same. Once you stop banning something, I also believe it becomes slightly less desirable and fascinating.<br />
<br />
If the fascination remains, the interest can be treated like any other interest; perhaps a small area of the room can be devoted to a display related to the army, the police and other gun-carrying 'good guys' and the interest followed up in art and stories and resources. Children can be actively taught that guns are dangerous and that they should tell an adult immediately if they find a real gun- without playing with it, without pulling the trigger. Isn't that a lesson you would like <i>actively taught</i>, especially if you are a family who has a real gun somewhere on the property?<br />
<br />
I can imagine a scenario where I might eventually- with the permission of the children's parents- supply some toy guns at circle time and ask the children, before anyone touched one, whether they were really sure that they were toys (and I would supply some very realistic toys). I would ask them what they would do next if I left the room right now, leaving the pile of guns on the floor.<br />
<br />
<i>Don't touch it.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Tell an adult at once.</i><br />
<br />
Perhaps our fear of nurturing violent impulses is preventing us from educating children about the dangers of firearms- and perhaps that is wrong. Is prevention better than protection? Is education better than censorship? What do you think?Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5189220758768300295.post-6915465308906135672012-08-09T10:38:00.001+10:002012-08-09T10:38:16.157+10:00I won't give up on you: connecting with a 'bully'The little girl is crying as she runs to me.<br />
<br />
"Luke tried to pull down my pants!"<br />
<br />
Luke has been in strife all morning. He's been punching, he's been pushing, he's been jumping out from behind the fort and making the little kids cry. It's pretty normal behaviour from Luke.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every playground is a small<br />society...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
His peers are fed up with him. Nobody wants to play with him. The teachers are fed up with him too, and this <i>pulling down pants</i>- well, we're all shocked by that. It's the last straw.<br />
<br />
I give the little girl a cuddle, tell her Luke did the wrong thing, settle her ruffled feathers. Tell her I Will Deal With Him. She goes back to play quite contentedly, now the <i>rules</i> are being adhered to.<br />
<br />
I walk nonchalantly over to the soft fall, where Luke is racing around at top speed, and as he climbs the stairs of the slide I catch him up in my arms. It's the only way to get his attention when he's in this mood- sneak up and<i> catch </i>him. If I tell him to come to me, he'll run away. He knows he's in trouble. And he's the fastest runner in the school- if he doesn't want to be spoken to, he'll keep out of reach till some other crisis catches my attention and the moment passes.<br />
<br />
Of course he struggles and shouts as I carry him over to the quiet area, where we can sit down. "Put me down! You're hurting my gizzards!" he yells, but I've been caught by that one before and watched him dance off laughing as I've let him go, fearful lest I be accused of rough handling.<br />
<br />
Not this time. I know my hold isn't painful, I know I'm not being rough, though he's a well-grown, muscular boy and awkward to carry. I make it to the bench, sit down with him on my lap.<br />
<br />
"I WANNA PLAY!" he shouts. "LET ME GO!"<br />
<br />
His voice is loud in my ear, but he's not struggling. My hold around his waist is firm, but my hands are gentle.<br />
<br />
"LET GO OF ME!"<br />
<br />
"We need to sit here till you can stop talking with your hands," I say quietly. "It's okay to feel angry. But you need to say it with your mouth, not your hands. It's not okay to hit, and it's <i>really, really not </i>okay to pull the girls' pants down."<br />
<br />
I stroke his arm silently till he stops yelling and relaxes a little, resigned to being kept here for the moment. I unfold his clenched fist and run it softly over the back of my hand.<br />
<br />
"I need you to use gentle hands, like this," I say.<br />
<br />
And I use my gentle hands to stroke his back as I hold him, trying to speak the message without any more words. He gets words thrown at him all day by the adults. He deflects words easily, staring boldly into your eyes while he goes right ahead doing <i>the wrong thing</i>.<br />
<br />
But when I talk to him through my gentle hands, Luke starts to cry. Not angry tears, but great big heartbroken sobs. As he sits there shuddering on my lap, it's as though he shrinks back into his real size, his real age; he's not some monster, some oversized schoolyard bully towering over his peers. He's a vulnerable four-year-old child, confused and not understanding how to fit into his world.<br />
<br />
I'm constantly surprised by the children's real size; I see them on the street, in their parents' company, and I do a double-take at their <i>smallness</i>. I watch them all day as they go to and fro within their little society of equals, the adults standing like pillars on the perimeters of their world, and I forget that they're tiny. I think we all do. Watching their microcosm at work, it's easy to forget the scale of things down there and use our adult labels on them. <i>Lazy. Bully. Violent. Shy. </i><br />
<br />
When really, there's just one label that's useful:<i> learning</i>.<br />
<br />
Luke is having trouble with his lessons- not the academic lessons, oh no; he's good at those. But the social lessons are way beyond him. I suspect that I know why; I suspect that what he sees at school and what he has modelled to him at home are so different that he can't reconcile it into<i> right</i> and <i>wrong</i>. His code is all over the place.<br />
<br />
And that's not his fault, and I <i>won't </i>blame him for it.<br />
<br />
I've seen Luke shamed before his peers, for repeating words that are part of every second sentence in his home. I've seen him shouted at and put in time out, for doing what's fully acceptable at home. Words, words, words. Anger trying to put out anger.<br />
<br />
Oh, I'm not saying it's easy, dealing with a kid like Luke- it's not. The other children have to be protected. We have to be careful what he teaches them from his own unsavoury learning. But I <i>will not </i>give up on him; I <i>will not </i>make him feel worse about himself for failing to fit in to this little society.<br />
<br />
Too often adults do give up on children like Luke. I know that my gentleness will be dissolved by the realities of the rest of Luke's daily life, and he'll come back tomorrow hitting, and pushing, and probably still trying to pull the girls' pants down. For many adults, looking at other people's children, that's enough to make their patience expire. It <i>can </i>seem hopeless.<br />
<br />
So they'll label kids like Luke with adult terms, because it's easier to talk in black and white and give up on him than it is to deal with grey. They'll blame him, and they'll try to shame him; they'll look at his background and say "There's nothing I can do". Maybe one day they'll exclude him completely, so he ends up shuffled from one little society to another, fitting in nowhere, learning to feel content with standing out as the bad boy.<br />
<br />
I've seen children like Luke expelled. Repeatedly. From <i>preschool</i>.<br />
<br />
But Luke stands half a chance here. I'm not the only one who meets anger with gentleness. I'm not the only one who refuses to give up on him. And so I can sit here, stroking his back while he sobs, trying to connect, trying to explain how this world works.<br />
<br />
Some other children come over and ask what's the matter with Luke. He's been crying a long time.<br />
<br />
"He's feeling some really big feelings," I say, "and he's sitting here with me till he can use his words to talk about it instead of saying it with his hands."<br />
<br />
They accept that readily. Some even smile at Luke in a friendly way; perhaps it helps them connect if they understand what makes him do it, too.<br />
<br />
After a while, I say to him "Are you ready to go and play yet?"<br />
<br />
He shakes his head violently, and I realise that now he's soaking up the gentleness, enjoying sitting on my lap- maybe even feeling safe there.<br />
<br />
"Don't you want to play with Mitch?" I ask, naming a boy he seems to hang with quite a lot, and he shakes his head again.<br />
<br />
I go through the names of all the other kids I've seen him playing near. He shakes his head each time.<br />
<br />
I realise he doesn't feel connected to any of them. Not at all. It makes me infinitely sad, and more determined to connect with him myself.<br />
<br />
"You don't have to like the other kids," I say. "That's okay. But you can't hit them or pull down their pants."<br />
<br />
He's still crying. That's okay. I don't try to stop him. He doesn't want to play, he just wants to sit here.<br />
<br />
So we do.<br />
<br />
"You could play by yourself if you want. I was watching you on the playground yesterday. You can pull yourself all the way to the top of the fireman's pole. You're very strong. Or I could get you a football- I know you're really good at kicking the ball."<br />
<br />
Luke stops crying around then, when I start telling him some good things about himself. But he won't leave my lap, this big strong hunk of active boyhood. We sit there for half an hour and he never even wriggles.<br />
<br />
When it's time to go inside, I carry him on my hip, sit down for circle time with him still on my lap. Right now, he seems to want to be little. He <i>is </i>little, though he's the biggest kid in the room.<br />
<br />
We're playing a colour matching game today.<br />
<br />
"You can do this," I say to him. "You're good at colours."<br />
<br />
And he's off. He's the first to name the colours, he jumps up and is the first to find the right colour in the room. And he doesn't punch or push or pull down pants for the rest of the day- not once.<br />
<br />
It won't last, of course; I know that from experience. But I wonder what would happen if Luke had a daily dose of gentleness when he arrived, if he was swept up into an adult's arms for a cuddle and some quiet words to help him move from one world into another. If he was reminded every day of his strengths, reminded to speak with his mouth not his hands, reminded that it's okay to cry and seek a kindly adult when feelings overcome him.<br />
<br />
Later in the day I catch his eye, and he holds up his arms to me for a hug. It's so unlike him that I almost burst into tears.<br />
<br />
Love is the answer, even if the answer only lasts for a day. I won't give up on you, Luke.Aunt Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08799746597313773030noreply@blogger.com20