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Posts tagged ‘Patience’

The Power of Words

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“By words we learn thoughts, and by thoughts we learn life.”

- Jean Baptiste Girard 

 

Everything we say matters. It matters especially so when we speak to children. I think most people agree not to use profanities around growing, absorbent minds… but besides just the superficial ‘child-safe’ vocabulary filtering  we do around kids, I want to ask: how much do we really… I mean really think about our word exchange with children? 

When I think about how I speak with children, I first ask myself several questions:

  • How is my tone and attitude? What message am I saying with my facial expression and body language?

It is very easy to be emotionally swept away by chidren’s behaviors or words if we are not used to them. Before I speak, a millisecond of checking in with myself, and a breath reminds me to be aware of my own state. Am I feeling annoyed? tired? confused? scared? entertained? embarrassed? … My emotions will directly impact the way the message is heard, which is a message in itself. 

If we are saying one thing, but feeling a different way about it… “Be careful with that glass when you’re pouring!” — but not trusting that they really can be careful — children feel our nervousness and become less confident in their own abilities. 

By being aware of our emotions, we may transcend the habitual way we react… and respond more appropriately with the messages that promote confidence, trust, respect and authenticity. 

  • What is my agenda? Is this about getting something done, or promoting learning about how something is done? 

 In school children are given worksheets and word problems to analyze and find solutions, but in real life there are no worksheets and word problems, there are just situations and interactions. Both of which are there for us to learn about ourselves and the world. So, if we as adults jump in to help, or command, or tell what to do in a situation… aren’t we just writing in the answers for our kids? It is very easy to fall into the habit of ‘putting out fires’ (please read CoreParenting’s post on the topic). After taking a breath, we might notice that what seems to be a problem at first, is actually a fantastic learning opportunity.

  • Do my words empower or take power from children? 

Speaking to children in a way that allows them to make a choice, initiate internal locus of control, or have self awareness is empowering. Speaking to children that commands them to do something, imposes judgement (“this is good, that is bad”), or embarrasses them (“it’s not nice to hit”, “you’re being too loud”) takes away the power to discern and make up ones own opinion on subjects. 

Empowering words are neutral and compassionate. They narrate and state the facts. “When you were running, you bumped into Kim, and she fell. That must be why she is crying.” Empowering words invite, rather than command: “Let’s look at Kim and see if she’s ok…” Empowering words are more detailed, slower and supportive. “I see you really want this toy, you are pulling it out of Joy’s hands. She wants to use it and she is holding on tight. I’m going to stay close and make sure your bodies stay safe while you two are figuring out what to do.” Empowering words give opportunity to think, and process. They are open-ended. “The water is pouring out very fast and the cup is getting full…”

Yes, they take a little more effort to say, than “Stop pulling.” or “Go say sorry.”, but their effect is much more beneficial in the long term. 

  • Am I speaking at children or with them? 

Being with children requires keen awareness and mindful presence. This is not an easy feat when there is food to be cooked, calls to be answered, laundry, cleaning, errands, tasks, tasks, tasks. It is easy to shout out a command, or send out short reactions to their behavior. Of course there is a time and place for everything, and the standards need not be set to 100% awareness all of the time, that’s stressful to even think about. 

But we can start by noticing how we are relaying our message. When we step next to, and come down face to face, connect with our child’s presence, we can then have a better perspective of their experience. We can gently enter their world, and show them that we are there to work with them, and not intimidate or control them (for a quick fix). We take time to listen to them, and narrate what’s happening. We become their closest friend, and let compassion guide us in responding.

  • Am I being genuine and honest? 

Children can sense insincerity and condescendence a mile away. Take the famous parenting phrase “because I said so” (hopefully less widely used than before), does it seem like a respectful thing to say? Is it genuine and honest? Would it be more informative to say, “I know you want to keep playing, but I am just feeling too tired right now, and I would like to leave.” Being honest and real with your kids is more likely to promote understanding, and less likely to promote resentment. 

 

  • How is “small-talk” affecting children? 

In many of the preschool classes I’ve taught, one of the first morning interactions with kids involves them showing new something to me. New dress, new toy, new shoes, new haircut… etc. This is a very interesting opportunity and I ponder about their experience. I think it’s pretty common practice to reply by sharing our opinion on something children are showing us… “What a pretty dress!”, “Those shoes are cool!”, “I like your new haircut, you look great!”…

Hmmm… I don’t know about you, but I think this sends some critical messages. If adults are giving much attention to the appearance of children, (clothes, age, behavior), is it natural to think that children will see these as important social values? (How I look. What’s cool? What’s pretty?)

I have thought much about this, and I’ve decided to add a shape of neutrality to my responses, and better yet, turn the response to ask the children themselves their opinion… rather than giving my own.

So, when Hugo comes up to show me his new shirt with a TV character on it, I may ask “What do you think about your shirt?” or I may say, “I notice it has long sleeves. Does it keep you warm?”, or I may say, “I see your shirt has some characters on it, tell me about them.” 

When Penelope shows me her new summer dress, I may say, “You are showing me your new dress that grandma gave you, how did you feel when you saw it?” or, “You seem very excited about your new dress, how does it feel to wear it?”, “What do you notice about your dress?” 

Another common practice I notice is the commenting on children’s age, when meeting them for the first time. We seem to have a habit of asking kids their age… what message does this send them? Well, maybe just asking them their age is not a huge message, but our response “wow, you’re such a big boy!”, or “you’re getting bigger” shares a lot of information about what adults value: You are valued on something that you have no control over — the passing of time. The older you are, the more you are valued. 

Why do we not ask adults their age right when we meet them? Is it really that important, or do we just not know what else to ask kids about? Is it as appropriate as asking kids their weight, or height? 

 

 

Words are more powerful than they seem. When we use them with sanctity our life improves, and the lives of those around us. 

What are your thoughts on words? What are your experiences speaking with children, and remembering how you were spoken with when young? 

 

(Photo: “If I’ve told you once…”, Courtesy of Andy M.Taylor, Flikr)

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A Shout Out To The Papas

I’d like to take a moment and send out a word about all of the amazing Papas out there. You know who you are.You are the amazing dads who I have seen around town, and met. You have raised the bar on parenthood and you deserve to be recognized. Now just to be clear, I am not speaking of the obsolete version of Papas. These are not the stern, frightening, fist on the table, “because I said so” Papas.

These are the Papas who don’t just carry the baby in the sling to look the part. No, you carry your child, and stop every once in a while to talk together about the world around. You are confident about your child’s understanding and capabilities, even if they are in their pre-verbal stages. You are the Papa who notices your child’s cues and communication. You are calm, caring, and connected.

This is about the Papa who comes in to the restaurant with his 4 year old boy and doesn’t take out his ipad to read the news, or talk on the phone. He is the one to read books together with his boy, and calmly say things like, “Thank you for offering me your pancake. I have some eggs to eat right now, but maybe later I can try a bite.” He is the Papa who keeps his child informed about what is going on, and why. He can be found smiling and laughing and having great conversations with his child. He is the Papa that has taken the time to read about child development and is consciously and intentionally staying aware of his child’s growth. He is talking with his child and not at him. His hands are as patient and gentle as can be, and he models respect by giving it first, rather than commanding it.

He is the Papa who models kindness on the bus with his 5 year old daughter, by not laughing at the things she says, and instead taking her seriously while responding with respect. He offers his help instead of doing things for her, and he notices what she is interested in. He is the Papa who finds moments of meaningful joy and togetherness with his daughter beyond the typical tossing her into the air, or tickle frenzy. He shows his strength through patience, trust and awareness.

He is also the Papa who doesn’t mind crouching down to quietly and calmly talk to his 4 year old daughter when she is starting to get upset in a public place. His voice and words never send a message of threat, but instead validate her emotions and communicate expectations with love. You know him when you see him, because of the way his child reacts. She calms herself down and follows him not out of fear, but out of love and security. He is a quiet and soft spoken Papa, and you too maybe have noticed him.

He is the Papa who stays with his little boy for a while when he drops him off or picks him up at school.

He is the Papa who speaks to his teenage son during dinner with the same attitude that he might speak to a colleague. It is no surprise that his son speaks to him in the same manner.

They are the Papas that have changed diapers patiently and took the time to connect with their baby.

They are the Papas who are always there to listen to their kids, even if their kids don’t want their advice.

They are the Papas who have broken the barriers of stereotypical fatherhood views, and have taken fatherhood to a higher level. Maybe even in roles as primary care providers for their children.

They are the Papas that understand that fatherhood is only what they choose it to be, and they have chosen to make it a priority.

These are the Papas who I admire. I just want to send out a word to them. Thank you for being amazing. Keep up the great work. You are raising the humans of our future.

Do you have any stories of amazing Papas? I’d love to hear them!

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The Hands That Wait

Last week I was on the bus and saw this scene while passing a fast food restaurant: inside I saw a woman and a 4/5 year old child. They were cleaning up after their meal, and were throwing away some containers. The boy was throwing away a plastic cup into the garbage can. As he was doing this slowly and awkwardly, reaching for the opening and trying to stuff the cup into it, the woman stood by with her hands very close to his and only seemed to wait a brief moment before she quickly reached over to grab the cup and push it in for him. I noted how close her hands were, her body language, and how fast she had acted.

This takes me back to the time when I was small, and remembering how I noticed the personalities of adults by the behavior of their hands.

Being a tiny and awkwardly coordinated growing person is no piece of cake. I remember how fine tuning the control of my fingers and hands seemed like an almost impossible task. From pouring juice out of a bottle into a cup, to writing my first letters, I might as well have been using my nose.

I remember how frequently adults wanted to help me, and often did so without my permission or even giving me a moment to realize they were about to. Their hands just jumped right in and did the job. Sometimes this left me feeling pretty incompetent. But, the hands that waited were usually attached to the kind of adult that had a calm demeanor and trusted me.

I understand that adults are helping children out of love and care. We tie their shoes, and put on their

coats,

and pour,

and wipe,

and open,

and close,

and move,

and dress,

and pick up,

and put down,

and do so many things to care for children — but at what cost are we doing these things for them?

Here is an important story that I remember hearing (you may know it):

A man was watching a butterfly struggle out of its cocoon. He noticed how awkwardly and slowly the butterfly was pushing itself out. After he watched for a little while, he decided to help. He took a pair of scissors and cut the cocoon open. The butterfly easily came out, but fell to the ground instead of opening its wings to fly. What he didn’t know was that while the butterfly struggles to push itself out, it releases a special fluid onto the wings, without which it can’t open its wings to fly. In other words, the struggle itself created the success.

I really loved this story when I first heard it because it gave me a fresh perspective on children’s struggle. I admit I do like to make life easier for children. I want to do things for them – give them my hand— it’s part of my yearning to nurture and it feels instinctual. I realize though, that cutting the cocoon open for them does not help them fly, but in fact, often inhibits it. So, my instinctual reaction slowly turned into a patient, intentional response.

I look at my hands and notice now, how often they want to jump in to help. I urge them to wait, and instead move them away while watching how a child is gaining skills on their own. I notice sometimes the children who are used to receiving lots of quick adult help often just hand over the job to me or another adult nearby, expecting what they are already used to.

I admit that struggle is difficult to watch if we’re not used to it. I tell myself to breathe and wait for the process, the coat to get zipped, or for the glass which is so precariously sitting on the edge of the table to get moved, or the tiny foot to reach the safety of the floor while the toddler is struggling to come down from the couch. I become aware of how my own emotions and instincts are filling my mind with fearful images – the child falling and crying, the cup breaking, the spill, the mess, the anxiety – but I know these are only workings of my imagination and I don’t let them guide me. I let them go and instead observe intensely. I notice how each time the same struggle happens over and over, some tiny new skill is emerging. Maybe the first two times the cup fell, but this time it’s placed a little further from the edge. Maybe there is a new shift in the child’s body when she takes a step off the couch.

Truthfully speaking, the horrible things my mind flashes during the process don’t usually happen, and if they do, they aren’t nearly as horrible as I imagined them to be.

This experience has taught my mind and hands to relax and even though I make myself available to help, I don’t jump the gun quite as fast as I used to. It’s hard to make my hands wait, but I know that the real lesson is in the child’s hands – not my own.

There are still many creative ways to provide support and guidance to children while strengthening their skill abilities, here are a few:

Before giving any directions or help, notice the process of ‘figuring it out’. Let the child’s curiosity guide the process first and notice their innovative ways of working through a problem.
Provide a little tip (note: this is a fine balance. Make sure you are empowering instead of commanding): I notice you want to step down the stairs. It might be helpful to hold the railing. It’s very sturdy.
Slow down and become a close observer. This will give you the opportunity to notice progress or patterns, and often simply being aware and present is enough support.
Model the way something is done: “When I zip, I like to hold the zipper together like this, and then… I pull up…”
Describe the process as it is happening: I see the water is pouring out of the pitcher very fast, and your cup is getting full. (Notice how this is left open ended…)
Acknowledge the child’s struggle as a part of the process to the child: If you are ok and calm, there is no need to fear the struggle next time. “It’s true. Sometimes putting on shoes can be frustrating.” or, “The water spilled right in your lap when you were pouring, does it feel very cold and wet? “
Be available and know when help is truly needed. If your child is exhausted and on the verge of a meltdown, chances are the process will not be as useful. It’s ok to offer help when the time is right. Knowing that balance is really important.
Ask first, if you really want to help: Asking permission before diving into a child’s space is incredibly empowering for the child. This is one of the best ways to model respect.

Finally, let go of your own idea of success and instead celebrate the process. As I wait, I like to ask myself, “In reality, what’s the worst that could happen?”, and “What can be gained from the experience?”

Note: These particular examples are about young children. Additionally, how can we connect them to other ages or areas of life?

I’d love your feedback!

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Social-Emotional Development

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