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previous ~ ~ ~ next Yesterday a strange thing happened. One of the little boys (Matthew) in my Sunday school class hit another little boy (Daniel), which, in and of itself, is an extremely unusual occurrence. Throwing things? All the time. But hitting? Almost never. These kids just aren't mean. They're only three years old, and I would say most of them have good role models, people who have shown them appropriate ways to express frustration, or anger. Even when they throw things, it's normally because they just like to watch them go flying, not because they're trying to hit someone else. Don't get me wrong; they're far from being angels. They're mischievous and often cranky, but they're not mean. So hitting is extremely rare. But the strange thing was, I found myself choosing a course of action that... I wasn't sure about. I don't have any kids (yet), but one thing I do know is that consistency is extremely important, especially with young children. Aside from that, as a Christian, it's important to me that I stick to my word and that the rules be the same for all the kids (to a reasonable extent; it's not like I don't make exceptions or compromises!) all the time so that they have some sort of example of a consistent, appropriate behavior before God. (Ok, getting massively side-tracked. Back to what I wanted to write about.) When I became aware of Matthew hitting Daniel, I went over, brought the two boys close to me, and asked Matthew to apologize. (After making sure Daniel was ok.) Matthew just shook his head no, refusing to say anything in spite of several requests. So Matthew and I went over to sit in a corner while I tried to get him to talk to me and explain why he didn't want to apologize. Nothing forthcoming, nothing at all. Except for him squirming off my lap and crying against the wall. After about a minute and a half, I called Daniel over and asked Matthew to apologize to him again. Nada. I placed my hands on either side of Matthew's face to get him to look at me but(hopefully) not make him feel trapped. He just shook his head no again, started crying, and turned his face back to the wall. Unfortunately, as a teacher (with 17 kids for the day), I also have a responsibility to the rest of the class room. So I went ahead and let him cry (kept an eye on him) and he joined back in playing before too long, and didn't hit anyone else. Here's the thing that somewhat disturbed me. My instinct was to sit there with him alternating between time out and giving him the opportunity to apologize until he finally did apologize. Matthew, though, is a very stubborn little boy, and it's entirely possible that we'd have been there for an extended period of time. Extremely extended. This is the first time I've felt like my initial instinct was more to dominate rather than correct. I don't know if that makes sense or not. There are a lot of things my parents did when I was younger of which I heartily approve. If I tried to wander out into the street after specifically being instructed not to, well, I got a swat on the butt. (And, as I got older, I got grounded from books because that was far more effective than a spanking since it was over and done with quickly.) My parents were consistent. I knew, without doubt, that if I talked back to my parents or deliberately disobeyed them, that there would be consequences. And I also knew that if I lied, whatever punishment would be much worse because I lied than it would have been if I'd just 'fessed up. And I knew that there would be consistent, reasonable consequences that didn't change from event to event. Yes, my parents were stricter than my friends' parents, but I at least knew what was right or wrong in my parents' eyes. When I was nine, we moved in with Larry (that's a story for another time; I won't launch into it for now) and things changed. I wasn't sure which things were breaking the rules and which weren't. I got punished as often or as badly for an honest mistake as deliberate defiance. There wasn't rhyme or reason to it--or at least not a rhyme or reason I could decipher at the time. Later, when I started getting out from under that household, I could see what it was all about: dominance. Not knowing what the rules were was a way of keeping me off balance, and, consequently, more malleable. Not knowing what the consequences would be was a way of making me fearful, and, consequently, more subservient. Everything about that was a way to have absolute and total control over me. I had enough time before that to have the right sorts of instincts and reactions ingrained. And 99% of the time, I have no doubts about how I treat children, how I react to them... It's just that 1% of the time, when I can't precisely pin down my own motives... and especially in this case where letting Matthew be worked so much better than trying to force the issue had. It's just a little scary. There are a lot of things that God pruned out of me, little vicious tendencies, passive-aggressive behaviors, being defiant and not letting people close because it would, inevitably, lead to them trying to dominate me... all those weeds were pulled out. I firmly believe that. It doesn't mean, though, that my instincts are infallible, or that there aren't still some ugly parts that I don't like to face or admit are there. You know, it's funny, but I feel like I just stumbled across the reason I'm so uncomfortable with the thought of raising children once they get past a certain age... and that's because I don't feel like I've got any sort of appropriate behavior to model my own on after that point. The ghosts of old demons... Except I have a transcendent example, really. I have my relationship with God, and I have, if not a perfect, at least a working understanding of what He wants and approves. So I guess I'm getting there... just with a few bumps along the road. How many days until finals? What was one good thing that happened today? Miscellaney: Tell me what you think. The Reverse Samson Effect ~ ~ ~ Deal? Most recent: The REAL surprise party - Monday, Jul. 11, 2005 Still not here - Wednesday, Jul. 06, 2005 Moved - Thursday, Jun. 30, 2005 I survived - Thursday, Jun. 23, 2005 Go see her. Now. - Thursday, Jun. 02, 2005 |
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