Bullying, Empathy, and Fixing Stuff that Shouldn't be Broken
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I read a very sad piece a few days ago, from Catherine at HerBadMother.com. Catherine’s nephew Tanner, who has Duchennes Muscular Dystrophy (a terminal illness which confines him to a wheelchair), is being bullied at school. Any bullying is awful, but there’s something particularly appalling about bullying a disabled – and dying – child which has me feeling sick to my stomach.
I started a post, and didn’t quite finish it, and shelved it (so it goes with the 37 pages of unfinished blog posts I have going right now), only to bring it back out in the light, after reading Catherine’s follow-up post, today whose title is aptly titled: Seriously, World. Because, seriously. Bullying a disabled child? And seriously? I can't believe she even had to write the follow up. It makes my heart hurt.
I’ve written about bullying before. It’s a matter which speaks to me personally – as I was bullied terribly as a child. Terribly, of course, is relative. To me, it was terrible. Any, ALL bullying is terrible.
But the thing that makes me so angry about bullying is this: It’s preventable. Reread: IT’S PREVENTABLE, people. World. Seriously. You just gotta treat people nicer.
In the vast, vast majority of cases, I’m going to venture a not-too-far-out guess: Children who bully are children who are bullied at home. And I don’t only mean parents who physically push around or verbally abuse their kids (though there are, unfortunately, plenty – too many – of those [of this, I also know personally]). But I mean also, the subtle bullying of a parent deciding NOT to put importance on her infant’s cries “he’s just doing that to manipulate me – he can cry it out in there, and learn to eat/sleep when I say it’s time to eat/sleep”. Or, bullying exhibit B: not honoring a toddler’s tantrum as a real expression of big feelings by a little person not big enough yet to understand how to verbalize those feelings in a socially appropriate way, as in: “he’s gonna stay in that time out all day ‘til he learns to obey me”. Or, a bullied-at-home child may be abused – physically, verbally, emotionally – as in spank, smack, “shut up”!
My take is this: Small injuries for little ones, when continually brushed off by parents (such as, “oh, you didn’t hurt yourself, you’re fine, stop crying about nothing”), comparisons (“at least your brother knows how to behave” or “you’ll never fit into your sister’s jeans, don’t even try”), or, bigger insults and useless, hurtful labels, (“you’re such a troublemaker” or ”you never listen” or “you’ll never be able to do it”) don’t just go away… they get buried, internalized, only to come to the surface when that child has the opportunity to respond in kind to another, smaller, child. The anger, the hurt, the belittlement – parents, people, world: think about what you’re saying and doing to your child. Think about how you interact with your children. Think about how you want them to face the world. What you say, how you treat your children? THAT is how they are likely treat others, or, how they are likely to be treated themselves (I’d like to take a moment to venture another not-too-far-out guess that if a less outgoing child has grown up in an environment where they are bullied, and it’s tolerated, even expected, they may continue to find themselves attracted to situations and relationships in which they are abused, ignored, harmed, and bullied.). It doesn’t just go away. Kids treat kids the way they are treated.
No one wants this for their child. No parent wants their child to be bullied. No parent wants their child to BE a bully. But we have a choice, parents. We parents can treat our children with kindness, respect, empathy. We don't have to bully or boss around our kids; we can empathize with them, guide them, help them gently on this path of life that's all new and un-jaded to them.
Now, please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying that a time-out at home or a parent who occasionally loses her temper equals a child who trips a kid & laughs about it on the playground. I’m not saying that every parent can or should even strive to parent perfectly.
What I AM saying is that if every parent would just aim to treat their children – treat EVERYONE – as they would want to be treated, this world would be a heck of a better, kinder, gentler, more forgiving place to be. Every bit of love you give you children, it comes back, tenfold. Every kind word, every gentle touch – they give it out to the world. You, parents, are the most important and powerful people in your children’s lives. Use your power to show them, through how you treat them, how they should treat the world.
Empathy. The golden rule. Treat your kids – as often as possible – as you’d want your best friend or partner or anyone to treat you, and you’re a step closer to making sure tragedies like Catherine describes, don’t happen.
They are with you, yet they belong not to you.
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Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. They come through you, but not from you.
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may house their bodies, but not souls.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
~Khalil Gilbran
My children are growing up. We all know this happens, is going to happen – even when we are pregnant, we start thinking, planning: will they be astronauts, concert pianists, writers, maybe win the Nobel Peace Prize? We wonder where they’ll go to college, maybe even play the game of what that will feel like – that far-off so-called “empty nest” feeling our parents experienced when we “grew up”; maybe feel that sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs – but quickly we can brush it away, as we bring baby to the breast, and settle back in to shared sleep. All is right with the world when your tiny infant is asleep on your chest.
When they’re babies, we have so much vested in their day-to-day care: breastfeeding, diaper changing, clothing, sleeping, playing. As they get a bit older, we start to offer some of that care to others around us – extended family, close friends, perhaps a nanny or daycare providers. Still, they return to us, completely ours, tiny, dependent. Where they go, what they do, even how their own messages are interpreted – is up to us.
It is around the three year mark where I started to really realize that my children… weren’t really mine. Of course, they are always a part of me – they forever are entwined with my DNA, my memories, and our physical connection, where they grew in my womb, is for all time etched into their little tummies. But they are only mine now because I want them… and they want me.
But sometimes, they don’t. Sometimes, they push away from me. They relish in their freedom – swinging, running, playing… hitting, back-talking. They too, are realizing they aren’t mine; that they are their own. They can choose their clothing – and put it on their own bodies. They can walk out the door and down the block – and come back. They can choose which book they want to read – and read it. They can realize they are hungry – and make themselves food. They can picture a grand Lego structure in their minds – and build it… while I simply watch. They can choose to be angry – and how they want to express that. My son, he knows how to whistle. My daughter, she knows how to read music and play the piano with both hands. I sit back, amazed, yet observing – Montessori-style – at these children who are so self-directed, strong-willed… and entirely themselves. They know who they are while I’m left to I wonder where they came from; where they are going; what their purpose is, and will be. I feel them pushing away from me. Sometimes I feel myself pulling them back. I want to pull back harder, but... I know I can’t; I shouldn’t. So I observe, and offer assistance when requested.
I remember when I used to be able to pick them up, swaddle them, nurse them, soothe their crying with the simplest things: milk, motion, singing. I can’t do that anymore. Their needs are bigger, the solutions more complicated, the problems more difficult: a friend said something that hurt feelings, a worry over when we will die – or when they will die, concern that we have more than others and why is that, thoughts about disease and hunger and pollution, consideration about what they’ll be as adults, about WHY we – their parents – do what we do, or have done what we’ve done as adults, wondering exactly how and when and why babies are made. My answers to their questions are necessarily more intricate and complex now than they ever were… and I am starting to realize that my answers aren’t always enough. My experience isn’t necessarily the best example. Their teachers help answer questions, as does the internet, and books, and… they are growing up.
At night, my children still ask for me to lie with them. They snuggle in – one on each side of me – like little puppies. Baby shuttles docking with the Mothership. I feel like they recharge at that time – lights off, no pressure. We do a lot of talking there in the dark, along with cuddling, resting, relaxing back into familiar baby-mama mode that some days I miss so much. I treasure the moments they choose to return to me – ask to play, request my help on a project, want me to snuggle them to sleep. My children are growing up, and I with them. It’s an amazing journey – one for which I don’t always feel adequately prepared – but for which I’m so glad I signed on.
Nature, Technology, and Being Human
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Teaching children about the natural world should be seen as one of the most important events in their lives.
~Thomas Berry (The Dream of the Earth)
In late August, early September, we went to Maine for a week. I didn’t really blog much about it at the time; but, more on that later. While on that trip, at the base of Mount Washington, actually, I came across a book called, Last Child in the Woods. Though I didn’t end up buying it, I did thumb through it a bit, and added it to my “to read” list. It caught my attention because it draws on a point I make to myself, and worry over, frequently as a parent; particularly as a parent raising children in a condo in the most densely populated state of the United States. That point is: Are our children, and are WE, as humans, getting so far removed from nature, and so dependent on technology, that we’re… damaging ourselves?
(my kids, digging by the lake in Maine)
I don’t mean just physical damage like carpel tunnel syndrome or losing muscle tone or gaining weight from so many hours in front of the computer (though those are important, too). I mean more that we’ve evolved WITH nature – for thousands, millions of years – and it’s only been in the last couple of centuries – particularly the last couple of decades where we’ve left our codependency with nature in favor of codependency with technology. Televisions, video games, computers, cars, smartphones... Our food is techno-fied, our travel is techno-fied, even our books are techno-fied. I feel like in our day-to-day lives, we’re really losing touch with our earth; we’re emotionally disconnected from nature; that must have an effect on how we ARE.
I’m not anti-technology. Far from it, being that I’m here writing this on my laptop, to be published on my blog, which I’ll read on my iPhone, which is up on the internet; which is also the home of our retail websites (which are our livelihood as a family). And, once finished writing this, I will very likely hop on my treadmill, to be followed by viewing a movie on Netflix. Heck, I’m far from being anti-technology; I love technology.
But I also love the earth. I vividly remember playing in the grass and the sand and the trees and the dirt as a kid. Hours spent in the garden, and just being outside in the summertime, the Spring, the Fall, and even the Winter. As a young kid, we were outside all. the. time. (Until, of course, my parents caved, and finally bought a Nintendo. I spent a lot more time indoors after, say, 1986 or so. Still, I rode my bike to school.)
It’s different for my children. Of course, I want to believe they too love the earth. In the Spring, Summer, and Fall, we go hiking as much as we can, and we tend towards nature-loving vacations, when we take them. We container garden in the Summer, and visit the Farmer’s Market on the weekends. But, in spite of that, the reality for my children is that there has never been Life Without Cellphones. They know how to turn on their computer, open a browser and surf the internet. They know how many “friends” I have on Facebook. (And how many their dad and grandmother have, too). We’ve never had a newspaper delivered. I’m not sure they’ve ever seen a payphone in person, nor had to wait for film to be developed. Email, online, download, Twitter, blog – all of these words are seamlessly part of their lexicon.
I think it’s easy as adults who have grown up with a mix of nature & technology, to feel okay about our own children having simple access to technology. Afterall, we grew up on Sesame Street and Walkmen, and Ataris, and we’re okay, right? At times, I find it effortless – and fascinating – as adults, who are ourselves immersed in technology, to watch our children so easily adapt to computers, internet, iPhones. But I am afraid in that ease, we forget that as kids ourselves, we really were outside. A LOT. And when we were outside, we were out there without cellphones. That outside time, that meshing with and growing up in nature, was important. Feeling grass on our feet, dirt under our nails, sun on our shoulders (without even sunscreen, OMG), tree bark against our legs as we climbed… that was necessary. All that time outside wasn’t useless, wasn’t just getting us out from under our mothers’ feet, it was teaching us about this earth from where we came, and where we’ll return. The smells of the earth, the rain, the plants, helped to develop our senses. The sun helped set our internal clock (not to mention made sure our vitamin D levels were on the right track – without supplements, OMG). Getting lost, then finding our way home, without GPS, helped us learn to rely on ourselves, to pay attention to our surroundings in order to orient ourselves. “Going out to play” helped us meet people, learn how to make friends, play games, share, make up rules, win, lose. I knew where food came from because we had a garden, and we got any produce we didn’t grow from the local farm; the grocery store was a much less-frequented destination. It’s just different for our kids.
(my kids, exploring the trees in the woods in New Jersey)
Anyhow, back to Maine, for a moment, and then, I’ll close up my thoughts. We drove up to Maine in the wake of Hurricane Irene. It was the clearest I’ve ever seen 95 – there was hardly a soul on the road – it was the fastest we’ve made it through New York City, ever. Upon arriving at our cabin, we realized that Irene had taken out the electricity on our road. We spent the next five days of our vacation without electricity or running water. Which also meant: No lights. And… no computers. Also, no alarm clocks (though I woke with the sunrise every morning). No microwaves. No movies. We bathed in the lake water and cooked over a fire. We read books and played board games in the evening by candlelight. We sang and roasted marshmallows around the campfire before bed. And during the day, we went swimming, canoeing, hiking, exploring, and just playing outside. All day. Until the sun went down. While I can’t say I wasn’t grateful when the electricity finally came back on the day before we were set to leave, it was mostly because I got to actually flush the toilet and wash my face with hot water, NOT because I could turn on my computer and update my blog (okay, though I did do that). Adam and I, and the kids, say this was our best vacation yet. I can’t help but believe it’s because we all FELT SOMETHING we’d been missing – that full-on connection with nature, that we don’t really ever get anymore in our technology-dependent lives, at least not in such large doses as we experienced that week.
Richard Louv, the author of Last Child in the Woods, says, “biologically we are still hunters and gatherers and we need, at some level we don't fully understand, direct involvement in nature. We need to see natural shapes in the horizon. And when we don't get that, we don't do so well.”
I want my children to have that direct involvement in nature. I want to get back to that myself. I think it’s imperative.
In the neighborhood where we are, and in this climate of high-technology, it’s just. so. tempting. (and easy) to occupy ourselves virtually. But the more I read about so-called nature deficit disorder (I just recently read a great article about it this past week in Newsweek), the more time I spend away from nature, the more I realize we NEED to get back to the natural world. We ALL need to take more hikes. We ALL need to plant more gardens. We ALL need to take the more challenging route, and close our laptops for a while, put our cellphones down, and get out in the woods. It isn’t just to avoid turning into Wall-E-type humans living just for the next techo-fied meal and virtual shopping experience, it’s to continue to BE human. We’re a part of nature, we always have been, and need to keep that bond alive, in order to survive, and thrive.
Do you find yourself connected with nature? How do you – and your children – stay in touch with the natural world?
Spanking Your Children is Not Okay
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Society reaps what it sows in the way it nurtures children... ~Dr. Martin Teicher
You may have heard of the Texas judge who’s been in the news recently, because his (now adult) daughter, posted a video she’d taken of him beating her (and her mother participating and egging him on) as a 16-year-old. If you haven’t seen the video, here is a link to an article that Annie (at PhdinParenting.com/Care2.com) wrote about it. **TRIGGER WARNING** For those of you who have experienced childhood trauma/abuse, please be warned that the video is graphic, and very difficult to watch. As of the latest news, this man is not being charged with any crime.
To be frank, I don’t think spanking or physical discipline of any kind is a tool that any parent needs in their toolbox. There are far too many negatives, and no benefits to keeping such an antiquated method of discipline around, even as a “last resort”. There are far more creative and effective and less hurtful methods of guiding and teaching children available. I’ve written about things you can do instead of spanking. but I’ve sat on my hands when it comes to really speaking out loudly against spanking because… I want to believe that at the heart of most parents who say things like (as overheard on Twitter, Facebook, message boards, and real life): “I spank because… it’s necessary” or “…children need discipline” or “…their father isn’t around, so I need to keep them under control” or “…sometimes you have to get their attention” or “…I’d never hit an older child, but younger kids don’t have the ability to understand anything other than a quick spank” or “…the bible/God says…” or “…(I have to let them know) I’m the boss” or “…culturally, it’s a requirement” or “…I only spank when I’m not angry” or “…I spank out of love” or “…I only do it in an emergency”... is a parent with love for their children, and a desire to parent well. I've avoided using inflammatory language: hitting, smacking, beating, abuse, in favor of the less hackles-raising “spanking” because I recognize that understanding differences is the key to changing minds, and if someone just closes their ears to you, they're not learning, and you're not teaching.
But, when I see news like this, when I see a father on video, BEATING HIS CHILD, who is not getting punished for his actions; when I realize he’s only one of thousands (millions?) of parents who still hit their children and think it’s okay, I can’t stay silent. I can’t believe that this type of behavior still happens. I can’t believe there are parenting books still on the market advocating physical punishment as an acceptable form of discipline. I can’t believe there are still so many parents ready to defend the act of hitting a child. I can’t believe spanking is still legal. I can't believe this man isn't going to be brought to justice for what he did to his daughter.
Plainly speaking: It is NOT OKAY to hit, spank, beat, whip, smack your child. Ever.
Spanking is not alright. It’s not acceptable discipline. It’s not appropriate. It’s not necessary. It isn’t legal when it’s done to adults; it isn’t legal when it’s done to animals. It shouldn’t be legal to hit children – even in the name of discipline.
I understand we all make mistakes, we all get pushed to our limits, we may not always live up to exactly the ideal image of mother/parent that we have in our minds-eye. But, to use spanking as a deliberate and regular form of discipline is reprehensible. When you spank a child, as an adult, you are either a) out of control or b) misguided and undereducated about the negative repercussions that come from using violence as discipline.
There is AMPLE evidence that violence begets violence. Children who are spanked are more likely to express themselves through violence – that means hitting you, hitting their siblings, hitting their classmates; and are more likely to grow up to be abusers themselves.
I KNOW you don’t want this for your children. There are OTHER WAYS to guide your children, rather than resorting to violence. Really. REALLY.
You know it doesn’t feel good when you hit your child (if it does, you’re likely not reading this, or, if you are, and it does feel good when you hit your child, please stop reading, and PLEASE GET HELP NOW – talk to someone, a counselor, a friend, a clergy person, someone; your child will thank you for the rest of their lives). Maybe it hurts you. Maybe it makes you feel sick. Maybe you feel guilty or ashamed. Maybe you want to change, but you don’t know how. Maybe you feel like you won’t be an effective parent without spanking. I know it's difficult, particularly if your parents spanked you, and "you turned out okay".
The bottom line is that you don’t need to feel that way anymore because you DON’T NEED TO USE SPANKING AS DISCIPLINE anymore. You have a choice. You can change. Your children NEED you to change. You have the power to show your children that no matter what they’ve done, you still love them. No matter how angry you are, you can control yourself. You want your children to behave, but they can’t if they don’t feel good, if they don’t feel loved. When you spank your child, they don’t understand the distinction you’ve created in your mind that spanking is necessary and loving discipline, they only feel pain, fear, shame, and anger. They don’t deserve to feel that way, no matter what the misdeed. All children deserve gentle guidance in a home filled with peacefulness and love. Show your children with your own words and actions how you’d like them to live, and they will follow you. If you show them how to hurt, they will hurt.
Children who feel right, act right. Children who don’t, won’t. They can’t. If violence is what they’ve been shown and taught, then violence is how they will express themselves. Hurt and anger and pain is what they will associate with you and they may spend their lives trying to get away from it – and you. Maybe this manifests itself in “good/obedient behavior” as children, but as teens and adults, it will likely evidence as acting out, experimentation with dangerous behavior, distance, and separation. Don’t do that to your children.
So, what can you do?
1) If you can’t think of anything to do (other than spank), do nothing. It’s okay to walk away until you’re calm. Really. The message you wanted to convey by spanking, that lesson you wanted to teach? It will still be teachable after the heat-of-the-moment has passed. I suggest that a child who feels calm will be more receptive to talking about a misdeed than one who is afraid of being hit, or who has just been hit. Think about this in terms of your own life. Are you more likely to be receptive to…. a) your boss storming into your office yelling about a mistake you made, or, b) your boss telling you about a mistake you made & asking if you’d come to his office later to talk about what you can do differently next time…?
We both know it’s B. Children are no different; humans are humans, and respectful, peaceful discourse is always the better route to go. Give yourself a time out, cool off, regroup.
2) Use your words. With emphasis, but without hurt. We always ask our children to use their words instead of resorting to tantruming, screaming, yelling, kicking, biting, throwing. Yet, when you spank your child, you’re not using your words, your having a tantrum yourself – only you’re taking it out on your child. Instead of spanking, tell your child that you are angry, sad, disappointed, whatever. Say what you need to say clearly, loudly… but do it without hitting them (keeping in mind that hitting can be done with words, not just hands, so tread carefully here). Say to your child what YOU are feeling. And, like #1, if you can’t think of anything to do (or, in this case, say, other than spanking – with words or with hands), then walk away until you’re calm.
3) Take and give a time out. Tell your child that you’re going to take a time out, and ask them to do the same. This doesn’t mean forcefully lock them in their room, or restrict them to a naughty spot or time out chair. A time out is just what it sounds like: a time to step away from overwhelming emotions, to take a moment OUTside of the anger that you’re feeling. It isn’t punitive, it’s learning (and teaching!) how to separate yourself and your responses from your children’s actions. You don’t have to respond in a super-emotionally-charged way to your children’s misbehaviors – and it’s better for them if you don’t. If you take a time out to get composed and think about a measured response, you’re teaching a lesson much greater than the lesson you’d have taught by spanking.
4) Forgive. Forgive not only your child’s misbehavior – they’re just learning about this world, remember? But forgive YOURSELF for whatever you’ve done in the past. Try to forgive whatever may have been done to YOU in the past, and realize that you have the power to change, to break the cycle, starting now. I learn every day about forgiveness from my children – they are so open, so willing to accept that people make mistakes. Hug them, forgive them, forgive yourself and realize every moment is a new moment for starting anew and trying again.
Spanking is never necessary. You are the adult, you can make a choice – starting now, regardless of whatever has gone on in the past – to stop spanking, and start guiding your child with more gentleness and empathy. Your children, and your children's children are depending on you.
If you want to learn more about the effects of spanking, and things you can do to discipline your children WITHOUT spanking, here are some great starting points:
Ten Reasons Not To Hit Your Child: http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/discipline-behavior/spanking/10-reasons-not-hit-your-child
Plain Talk About Spanking: http://nospank.net/pt2011.htm
Gentle Discipline That Works: http://www.beliefnet.com/Health/2007/03/Gentle-Discipline-That-Works.aspx
Ten Reasons Not To Hit Your Kids: http://www.naturalchild.org/jan_hunt/tenreasons.html