Skip to main content

Grace

Image result for we hold children to higher standards than ourselves

Have you ever been so tired that you didn't wash the dishes in the sink before going to bed?
Or left laundry out for someone else to fold because you had other things to do?

So why are you expecting an exhausted three year old to put away his lunch dishes instead of just laying down on his cot like his body needs to? What possible way could fighting this need meet a goal for you or the child?

If we want children to grow into people who respect what their bodies need, and trust others to help them, what purpose does this serve? 

I want to be the early educator who can respect a child's humanity, who can understand that just because the clock says 12:10 and the schedule says nap time isn't until 12:45, the child's need for rest overrules this piece of paper. 

I want to be the type of person who can give a little grace and humanity to an environment that rewards quiet compliance. Because right now, we need a little more questioning of the status quo, and a little less adult ego.

I'll be looking for opportunities to practice giving a little grace this coming week. Who's with me?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why Is That Baby Using Scissors?!

Why do we think children need to be told what they don't know? In my years of working with children, I've yet to meet one who needs to be told that they can't read yet. Or use scissors. Or walk. Children know their limitations just as well as they know what they can do, if not better. (Who hasn't had "I do it!" Become "Oops"?) This morning, while the children were working on their art (One was cutting confetti, one was drawing with both hands while trying to stabilize paper, one was making lines with the glue stick and trying to find a way to make it show up better on the paper, one was tearing for the sheer joy of noise, and one was trying his hardest to operate the scissors one-handed) it hit me. I didn't have to tell the confetti-cutter that she needed to learn how to control her scissor snips. I didn't have to tell the scissor explorer that he needed to practice aligning the blades with the paper. The children saw what needed to be do...

Well, Duh.

 Friday afternoon, I walked back into my classroom to a scene that is not unusual in any group of young children. One child had just hit another (both three years old), attempting to get a coveted toy. I walked over to the two, and as I always do, I looked at the crying child who had been hit and said, "Wow, it looks like Y is really hurting." Then, I recognized that wasn't the whole picture, and looked at the child who had hit (this time), who was already averting their eyes, and said, "It looks like A is hurting too." A turned around, stunned at my ability to perceive what was obvious to them. This time, at least. "Yeah!" They exclaimed. Y stopped crying and looked at A. I offered hugs to both, and attempted to sportscast what I saw. "A wanted that toy, and Y had it! Y didn't want to be hit." A looked at Y, and said, "Yeah, and I really wanted the truck, but I didn't want to hurt you." Both children found a spot i...

"Why Didn't You Tell Me That?"

Everyone knows the feeling of being at the top of their game. In early childhood, that looks a little different than in other professions. The playground where I work is divided into two levels, out of necessity (Bay Area real estate is at a premium!). The upper level has our play structure and a fair amount of open area to run. The bottom level is a little more compact. The steps at my school are not unsafe, but they are wood steps, and on this particular day, they were wet. This child knows "we don't play on the stairs," but there were robbers to be chased down, and the stairs were playable area. As the child started his descent, I had that moment of clarity. I walked over to him, made eye contact, and said, "Hey, do you know why I don't let you play on the stairs?" He shook his head. "Do you remember the ice you saw on the bench? That's on the stairs too, and I don't want you to slip and fall." He digested this for a moment,...