My own wish for children is that they learn to find joy even amidst the world’s and their own imperfections … that they grow to have a clear but forgiving interior voice to guide them … and that they come to have a reasonable sense of shame without an unreasonable burden of guilt.
There is an inner rhythm which sets the normal beat for human growth. We need to respect that rhythm in ourselves, our friends, and in the children with whom we live and work. Healthy babies grow from one phase to another in a predictable way. Human beings have to learn to crawl before they learn to walk. And when we’re ready to crawl, we’ll find every chance we can to crawl and crawl and crawl—and we don’t want people to stop us from crawling, and we don’t want people to hurry us to walk.
As children come to be more aware of themselves and their world, they also become aware of how small they are compared to the people who look after them. It may seem that grown-ups get to do all the big and exciting things and make all the decisions, too. But there are special things about childhood and being a child. It helps children feel good about who they are when we adults value the many things children can do. It’s a way for us to let them know that we don’t want or expect them to be more grown up than they’re ready to be—that we really do like them just the way they are.
As children learn, they begin to sort and classify. Often, they do it by way of opposites—big or little, hard or soft, good or bad, black or white, night or day … and, of course, same or different. But not many things are all one way or all another, and certainly people aren’t.
We all know people who have grown up to dislike other people who are different—because they are different. I’ve often noticed that when someone feels that way, that person doesn’t feel very good about his or her own differences. I think that’s where it all begins for us parents: helping our children feel good about their differences so they can be accepting of, and open to, the differences of others. When we help them learn that, we help them build the foundation of compassion.
What matters most is how children feel about their uniqueness, once they do begin to realize that they are different from everyone else. How each one of us comes to feel about our individual uniqueness has a strong influence on how we feel about everyone’s uniqueness. Every time we affirm how special our children are to us for being themselves, we’re helping them grow into adults who rejoice in the diversity of the world’s people.
None of us is exactly like anyone else, but one thing we have in common is our humanity, our very natural, understandable desire to know that at least somebody, onebody, thinks there’s something special about us, something worth caring about.
One thing is certain: Children need lots of free, quiet time to get used to all that’s developing within them. Have you noticed that unhurried time by yourself or with someone you really trust can be the best setting for your own personal growth? It’s no different for children.
Children feel far more comfortable and secure when things happen predictably—with routines, rituals, and traditions. Those traditions, big or small, create anchors of stability, especially in rough seas.
Finding the inner readiness to do new things is such an important part of growth. It’s one of those things that can be encouraged and supported, but can’t be hurried.
A berry ripens in its own good time … and so does a child’s readiness. Just as the one needs water and sunlight, the other needs the patient reassurance of loving adults who can trust children to grow according to their own timetables. We need to remember that many, many “normal” children depart from the so-called norm, and that all children develop the different parts of their minds and bodies on different schedules. That’s part of what makes each child one of a kind—something for which we and they can learn to be grateful.
Children need adults who are convinced of the value of childhood. They need adults who can help them to develop their own healthy controls, who can encourage them to explore their own unique endowments. Children need adults—in every walk of life—who care as much for children as they care for themselves.
Respect the child. Treat him as a person. The best thing a person can feel is to be accepted as he is, not as he will be when he grows up, but as he is now, right this very minute.
FROM THE SONG
You’re Growing
Someday you’ll be a grown-up, too,
And have some children grow up, too.
Then you can love them in and out,
And tell them stories all about
The times when you were their size,
The times when you found great surprise
In growing up.
You’re growing, you’re growing,
You’re growing in and out.
You’re growing, you’re growing,
You’re growing all about.
Most of us can remember how long the summers used to seem and how long it was from birthday to birthday. When we were five, it seemed we’d never get to be ten, and at ten, it seemed it would be forever until we were twenty. So often it is only by looking back at where they have been that children can see that they are growing at all.
There are outward signs of growth that we can help children notice—clothes that get outgrown, pencil marks on a doorjamb that move up as they get taller. There are lots of things that they learn to do that we can remind them they wouldn’t have been able to do a month or a year before—tying a shoe, or riding a tricycle. But while these bring satisfaction to children and parents alike, it’s children’s inside growth we particularly need to help them appreciate.
“Growing on the inside” are the words I use when I talk with children about such things as learning to wait, learning to keep on trying, and being able to talk about their feelings and express those feelings in constructive ways. These signs of growth need at least as much notice and applause as the outward kind, and children need to feel proud of them—even more proud than they may feel when that line on the doorjamb goes up another inch.
Although children’s “outsides” may have changed a lot over the years, their inner needs have remained very much the same. Society seems to be pushing children to grow faster, but their developmental tasks have remained constant. No matter what lies ahead, children always need to know that they are loved and capable of loving. Anything that adults can do to help in this discovery will be our greatest gift to the future.
Knowing that dependence is both available and encouraged when it’s needed makes it easier for young children to learn to be independent.
I have come to realize how important the limits we set for our children are for the development of their creativity: When we won’t let them do exactly what they want to do, they have to search out new alternatives.
Parents are likely to feel proud of their children’s new capabilities and accomplishments, but they also may regret the passing of earlier times of greater closeness. Three-year-olds, for example, are apt to waver back and forth between dependence and self-assertion. At one moment they may need to act helpless and curl up on a grown-up’s lap, while at the next moment they may angrily brush away helping hands and a loving hug. Parents can feel unsettled as they watch their children’s independence and individuality unfold. Transitions are seldom smooth.
Working through disappointment can be a healthy experience for both parents and children. Even if it were possible to give someone everything he or she asked for, we would be depriving that person of many ways of growing. We all need to learn that life is a mixture of what is and is not possible.
If we grow up fearing mistakes, we may become afraid to try new things. Making mistakes is a natural part of being human and a natural part of the way we learn. It’s an important lesson, at any time of life, but certainly the earlier the better. We all make mistakes as we grow, and not only is there nothing wrong with that, there’s everything right about it.
I want children to know that adults can make mistakes, too. Adults don’t have to be perfect to be acceptable. People of every age need to know that.
That chores have to be done before play; that patient persistence is often the only road to mastery; that anger can be expressed through words and nondestructive activities; that promises are intended to be kept; that cleanliness and good eating habits are aspects of self-esteem; that compassion is an attribute to be prized—all these lessons are ones children can learn far more readily through the living example of their parents than they ever can through instruction.
There’s a world of difference between insisting on someone’s doing something and establishing an atmosphere in which that person can grow into wanting to do it.
Being kind means responding to the needs of others—and people can be kind, no matter how old or how young they are.
Children do not develop in a healthy way unless they have the feeling that they are needed—that they enhance the life of someone else, that they have value apart from anything that they own or any skill that they learn.
Children have very deep feelings, just the way parents do. Just the way everybody does. I feel that our striving to understand those feelings, and to better respond to them, is an important task in our world.
Children can carry feelings for a very long time if they don’t have an opportunity to talk with someone about them. And when they are able to trust and share their feelings, they often feel free to be more communicative in a variety of ways.
I remember how helpful it was for a teacher in one of my new schools to say to me, “Was it hard to leave the old school, and the teacher and your friends who were there?” Just her asking me let me know that somebody understood!
I think that just airing questions helps children to feel that they’re not alone with their curiosity, their fears, their jealousies, their angers … they’re not alone with their feelings.
I once asked a ten-year-old how he felt about his older brother going off to camp. There were only two boys in that family, and they were competitive and fought a good deal. My young friend said, “It feels great not to have him around … but I kind of miss him.” I told him I understood how he could feel both ways at the same time. “In fact,” I said, “so many people feel two ways about the same thing that our language even has a word for that.” I printed the word ambivalence on a slip of paper and gave it to him. “That word is ambivalence,” I told him. “People often feel ambivalent.” His parents told me later that he carried that slip of paper in his pocket for a couple of weeks and that when they’d ask him how he felt about something, his stock answer for a while was, “Oh, ambivalent, I guess.” Just knowing that people could feel like that—and that there was even a name for it—seemed to bring him some relief in his struggles with his conflicting feelings.
It can be a big help for any of us to know that our feelings are OK—that there’s nothing wrong with having them, and that lots of other people have the same kinds of feelings as well. We’ll always have some feelings we’re not proud of, and we can certainly be the objects of our own ambivalence.
If we look at our relationships with any of the many, many people in our lives, I believe we’ll always find a measure of ambivalence about our parents, brothers and sisters, other relatives, friends, and even ourselves. An ability to accept our ambivalence toward others may be an important ingredient in relationships that are healthy and lasting.
What a gift we all give to children when we encourage them to talk about what makes them happy, jealous, angry, shy, afraid, or proud. Whether we’re children or adults, adding to our emotional vocabulary can often add to our ability to cope with what we’re feeling. Using words to describe what’s inside helps remind us that what we’re experiencing is human … and mentioning our feelings to others can make those feelings more manageable.
Children’s curiosity needs to be encouraged and supported. More important than what we say is letting our children know that we welcome their asking us about anything they don’t understand.
No matter what the situation, if we can help children talk about their concerns and their feelings, and really listen to what they tell us, we are letting them know we care deeply about them.
Have you ever watched a frightened child turn to an adult for comfort? Did you notice that the child, in that situation, isn’t looking for a diversion? He doesn’t want a new toy or a game; what he wants is a relationship. He usually needs reassurance from his parents. He doesn’t need or want pat phrases or fancy jargon to help him during stressful times. We should try to understand what he’s feeling, and then use our own words or actions to communicate our care and concern.
Over the years, I’ve come to learn that many of us who have devoted our lives to serving children and their families just hate for the children to be angry—with us or with anybody else! Somehow, we think we’ve failed if children get angry. We want everybody to be happy.
Well, realistically, nobody’s happy all the time, and when children express their anger, they need to trust—way down deep—that we adults will help them find some socially acceptable way of expressing that feeling, some way that’s not going to hurt anybody, some way that might help everybody to grow.
Children have very strong feelings. Children love intensely, and they get angry just as intensely. They can be so happy that they laugh out loud, and they can be so sad that they feel their hearts are breaking. And often the way children look at others depends a lot on how they feel within themselves.
When children feel very sad or lonely, they may think life is going to be sad forever. Young children haven’t lived through enough of life’s ups and downs to know that even if you feel deeply sad now, you will be able to feel joy again at another time—that “the very same people who are sad sometimes are the very same people who are glad sometimes.” Children don’t learn that simply because we tell them, but it’s important for us to let them know that’s the way life is. Someone can be very sad for a while, but that while doesn’t last forever.
Childhood isn’t just something we “get through.” It’s a big journey, and it’s one we’ve all taken. Most likely, though, we’ve forgotten how much we had to learn along the way about ourselves and others.
How I wish that all the children in this world could have at least one person who could embrace them and encourage them. I wish that all children could have somebody who would let them know that the outsides of people are insignificant compared with their insides: to show them that no matter what, they’ll always have somebody who believes in them.
I have tried to encourage children to love and care for themselves and to love the parents who care for them.
That’s the way true neighborliness grows—loving others as we first loved ourselves.