Awhile ago, during one of my long stints in nursery, a new couple was called to serve with me in the older children’s room, and I watched a painful dynamic gradually unfold between the wife and one of the children in the class.
This earnest, entirely well-meaning woman had what seemed to me very high expectations of the children. Lessons were long, and the children had to remain sitting still on their chairs for the duration. Then we had to wait for the music coordinator, and since she visited both nurseries, it wasn’t always possible to coordinate the lesson’s end to coincide exactly with her arrival. So we often had to keep the kids on their chairs for a few more minutes until she got there. By the time the music coordinator had finished singing time, the children had often been sitting on their chairs–or, far more accurately, we’d spent all our energy herding them toward their chairs and away from the toys–for fifteen minutes. By my lights, that was about thirteen minutes too long.
My fellow nursery-worker was frustrated with the children’s constant wandering off, so she resorted to the ancient trick of bribery. Whereas under previous regimes snacks had been offered to all children without money and without price or prior compliance with nursery procedure, she started restricting the prized vanilla wafers to children who had sat on their chairs (more or less) for the entire lesson/music time ordeal. She would tell the wanderers who requested cookies, “I’m sorry you didn’t choose to sit on your chair and have a cookie this week. Maybe next week you can make a different choice.”
One little boy was a persistent wanderer. Lessons and sitting on chairs clearly couldn’t hold a candle to books, blocks, and toy trucks and trains (smart kid! I always thought, secretly or not-so-secretly amused at his evident entertainment acumen). He never sat on his chair. He never, that I recall, earned a cookie. He wasn’t all that into snack time anyway, so it didn’t seem to cause him much, if any, consternation.
But more disturbing to me, I watched a child who had always been considered a perfectly normal member of our class rapidly evolve into a “problem child” in my fellow nursery worker’s eyes. He was (and is) an adorable little boy, but he looked a little different from the other boys in nursery. His hair was a little longer than the other boys’ hair, and he generally wore more comfortable, less churchy clothes than the other children did. One boy came to church in a complete three-piece suit and missionary haircut; some boys sported ties. Not this boy, who wore comfortable rompers and sandals and whose hair fell (quite charmingly, I always thought) a little over his eyes. I don’t know to what extent his appearance affected my fellow nursery-worker’s judgments, but I suspect that they may have played a role. And perhaps strangest of all, she decided that this child came from a broken home and that his mother wasn’t involved in his life, based entirely on the fact that his father always dropped him off and picked him up from nursery. (I didn’t know his family well, but I did know that his parents were married and both evidently thoroughly involved in his life but that his mother had a demanding work schedule and often had to work on Sundays. I suspect that was why his father always dropped him off.) From my perspective, she seemed to be reaching for an explanation for his inconvenient behavior in what she imagined were his circumstances, rather than considering the role nursery expectations might be playing in creating and defining that behavior as “bad.”
I’ll be the first to admit that some children really are hard; they scream and scream, throw tantrums, or constantly snatch toys from other children. Some children have biological or behavioral or emotional disorders that can be extremely difficult to deal with, particularly for us church workers who generally have no special expertise or training whatsoever. It can be a long haul developing any kind of working relationship with such children. Furthermore, adults and children click in different ways. For all of us, some children are easier to like than others–just as some adults are easier to like than others. I’ve certainly worked with children and adolescents with whom I’ve failed to find any connection.
But at the same time I have to wonder to what extent our own perhaps unrealistic expectations and procedures actually create the “bad kids”–or, to use the more P.C. terminology, the “problem” children, the “behaviorally challenged” children–who then drive us crazy. Is the “badness” in them, or is it in our own excessively rigid ideas of what constitutes good and bad? (And for children in Primary, “good” and “bad” far too often seem to mean nothing more than compliant or incompliant, easy or difficult for adults to deal with, in the same way that “reverent” basically means “quiet,” in spite of all our elaborate insistence that it doesn’t. Which is just one reason that by the time I was nine I was thoroughly cynical about Primary.)
Here’s to bad, incompliant kids in all their messy, individual, charming glory. Here’s to taking even and especially the youngest children seriously enough to teach expectations with kindness and dignity and gentle, mutual humor instead of syrupy, moralizing condescension. Here’s to teaching kids genuine morality instead of simply how to stay out of our hair and make life easy for us.
It’s a very tall order, I realize. For every adult some Sundays are just survival Sundays, and I think that’s simply part of being human and having limitations. But in the end, if we really take the gospel and children seriously, how can we strive for less?
Oh Eve!
You are exactly right. Can you write a book about how to teach
I’ll buy a copy for each mother I know!
It really is hard to not put children in these boxes when we see them in our primary/nursery classes, but it’s even worse when we put our own children in the box.
Your post reminded me of a quote from Real Love by Greg Baer about how feeling disappointed in another person usually means they’ve done something to inconvenience us.
I really loved your post, but I have to ask the follow-up questions . . .
Did you confront the other nursery worker? Did you talk to the primary president about the unequal distribution of snacks? (My little guy is known as the biggest eater in the entire nursery. Depriving him of snacks would be cruel and unusual punishment)
I’m just wondering how this story plays out.
I am really excited about the new nursery manual for this reason: kids can’t sit still for that long. And it was hard for me to adapt the old manual every time I taught. The new manual looks much more suited to young kids.
And as for bad kids… to be honest, there always seems to be a kid who just rubs me the wrong way. And usually, that’s the one I need to learn to love and get along with.
I love this post and I love teaching the bad kids. In fact I’m fairly certain that was how most of my callings are dolled out. “oh put lisa with the bad kids.” A lot of them are genuinely difficult, but you can almost always get to them with patience and affection and mutual respect. Yeah, I think even nursery kids catch the vibe when adults don’t respect them.
this post made me slightly ill… though it was a great post- it’s not you, Eve, it’s me.
I’m currently serving in the nursery and struggling with it. ‘We don’t do lessons. period. we do various activities and play time and field-trips to the gym for them to run around (nursery is in a tiny stuffy classroom).
And my son wears comfy clothes to church, not missionary clothes… and I am getting sick to my stomach thinking about the “earnest, entirely well-meaning woman” and her holding back of the cookies,
and I have been thinking about asking to be released from the nursery, but the idea of some well-meaning woman being called in my place who makes the kids sit still and hear moral tales… I want to protect them from that… meanwhile… most parents in the ward probably want to protect their children from me.
I should probably stop now.
sorry… this is a great post.
Excellent post, Eve! I often wonder how those labels affect kids in Church and in school.
great post. Your perspective makes so much sense, especially when we think of how we would like to be treated by our Heavenly Father.
Very much well said. You captured a great deal of what pains many minority groups in public schools.
I’ve seen so very much of the misbehavior you mention in the teacher, it still makes me angry.
Me too.
Did she ever think of herself as a thief and a brute?
Great post. I’m disheartened to hear about that nursery leader. Makes me wonder how many misguided but well-intentioned things I’ve done. Tons, I’m sure.
When I was nursery leader I tried to incorporate the lesson somehow throughout the entire two hours. If it was on animals, we’d do animal puzzles, play with animal toys, etc. I never worried too much about having them sit for very long—and never in chairs. The lessons were given on a blanket, which we first would all hold the edges of and flap in the air, then lay it down and sit on it. Until the kids got older, and were about to move on to being sunbeams, then we introduced chairs.
I had one difficult boy who would say things like “I hate you” and get very rough with toys and in general was just very difficult. And also incredibly sweet. A lot like my youngest son. His mother was always mortified by his behavior but to be honest, the difficult ones are usually my favorites. They’re so full of life. And usually incredibly smart.
I think it’s also important when dealing with kids to be aware of sensory issues. They’re getting to be so common. My nephew has what his mother, my SIL, calls a “crash and bump” personality. He needs strong physical contact and the need often manifests in him wanting to punch things. So she got him a punching pillow. She’ll also wrestle with him. A lot of mothers (or nursery leaders) would assume his need to punch things is just bad behavior and try to correct it. But he’s not doing it out of anger or frustration. He needs a certain type of sensory input.
The temptation to unrighteous dominion is very strong when dealing with adults, and I believe that for some of us, it gets even stronger when we deal with young people. We can rationalize our treatment of them by pretending to be teaching a needed lesson, but it is still rotten and hellish behavior. Ask me how I know this.
One of our sons is simply impervious to coercion of any kind, and has been that way since the day he was born. The harder I pushed, the more he dug in his heels, and for years our realtionship was one of mutual frustration. Our doctrine of the pre-mortal existence helped me gain the insight that his strong resistance to being bossed around, even for a good purpose, might be a holdover attribute of character which served him well in an earlier phase of existence. In fact, he was probably a general in the war in heaven. (duck and run)
I think the bribe is totally inappropriate – but it seems almost pervasive in Mormon ward culture.
“If you’re really good for class, you can all have a sucker at the end.”
“I’ll give a Jolly-Rancher to the first person to locate the scripture-chase scripture.”
“Brethren, the missionaries are holding an open-house this week, be sure to bring your friends… and there WILL be refreshments, so be sure to come.”
You know the real message being sent here?
“What we are asking you to do sucks so much, that we feel we have to bribe you to get you to do it. Because there’s no way that any ‘normal’ person would ever want to do it otherwise.”
When I was called as CTR 6 teacher, I dressed up in the full dark suit and tie (I didn’t think I should “dress-down” just because they were “crummy six year olds”). I came into class, had everyone take a seat.
The first things one of my “problem boys” said to me was – “did you bring any treats?”
I looked at him for about 4 full seconds, then said clearly: “I don’t bring treats to class. Maybe, I’ll bring you a candy cane for Christmas. Maybe.”
It was July at the time. He didn’t ask again.
I found that things went best with that age group when you didn’t expect too much from the kids. You prepared a flexible sort of lesson that could be shortened or lengthened as needed. Bought a full set of nice crayons in about 100 colors to go in my teacher’s tote bag and always came with plenty of blank white paper. Tape, scissors, and a healthy disregard for that awful lesson manual. Made a lot of use of the old illustrated scriptures for beginning readers.
Let the kids carry my teacher’s supplies to and from classroom (they loved that). Never expected the kids to do anything during singing time that I wasn’t enthusiastic about doing myself. When it was time to fold arms, I folded my arms. When we did “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” I did it with everyone else. I figured there was no point asking the kids to do things if the teachers were obviously not enthused about doing it.
I didn’t allow talking in class. But I didn’t get upset about it either. I didn’t punish for it. In fact, I don’t remember ever “punishing” anyone. I never called in a parent or Primary Presidency member either.
The “problem kid” in class had ADD. Which was fine by me, because I have it too (thus my blogging habit). I knew it wasn’t anything personal, he just couldn’t pay attention that well. So, I didn’t make a big deal of it. I was just persistent with him and didn’t get mad about it. I also realized there were days when he was just going to be upset and sulky, and needed to hide under his chair. So I let him. And no, the other kids did not get to do it too. There’s no rule that childhood has to be fair. The rule is what I tell you to do (which works at that age, actually).
I also allowed plenty of time for the kids to give the answers to the questions they wanted to give, even if they were almost irrelevant to the lesson. Kept things flexible, and simply accepted that the lesson manual was too crappy to be worth forming an agenda around.
During Sharing Time, I would whisper obviously wrong answers to the kids for the questions being asked. I enjoyed the skeptical looks I got from my kids, and I think it kept them on their toes. I also allowed a certain degree of quiet whispering, but also arranged seating to avoid obvious trouble.
The “problem boy” warmed up to me quite nicely without treats. I actually ended up being that boy’s favorite adult in the ward – outside his parents. His mom was sad when we moved out of the ward.
The main things are to know their names, actually care about them and make them feel important, and to respect their ability to learn and act like “big kids.” And keep things flexible – don’t come with an agenda.
Lovely age – six…. I think that was my favorite calling.
I loved this post. Why do adults want two year olds to act like miniature 30 yr olds?
I think you’re dead on with isolating the problem and our mischaracterizations of healthy children who happen to not be little robots.
My husband and I are in the nursery right now and have been for eight months. The kids love us, and up until two months ago, we effectively taught little mini lessons that the kids could actually learn from, had structured and unstructured play times, and generally catered to the kids’ needs. Two months ago, a new nursery leader was called. Despite the fact that he has three kids of his own, he’s completely inept at handling such young kids. He sounds a lot like your well meaning woman described above. He wants the children to act on a six-yr-old level. Which would be fine if they were first graders, not toddlers. His lessons and activities are way over their heads and he loses his patience every Sunday when they won’t pay attention or respond. I used to love my calling and now I’m going home with a developing ulcer. Add to this the fact that my husband and I are pregnant with our first, so he has dismissed my ideas and opinions several times, commenting that we’re the couple who doesn’t have kids yet, so we’re going at things the wrong way. We’re young students, just starting grad school, first baby on the way. He’s a student himself, but finishing his PhD, has three kids, and a roaring ego. I wish I knew how to save my sanity and stay positive in my calling, if only for the kids sakes. Any ideas would be appreciated. He’s turned our nursery into the pre-Maria Von Trapp household. 🙁
Thanks for the brilliant post.
Advice meaning how to deal with our overbearing nursery leader. How did you deal with your fellow coworker? I have always been polite and respectful in working with him, but my patience is wearing out. And yet, pick your battles right? no doubt he’s just trying his best to do his calling just like I am . . .
I’m especially troubled by your co-worker’s conclusion that this child comes from a “broken home.” There’s a marked difference in the way my children are treated since their father and I divorced. For a while, they had a Primary president who had known us since before, and continued to treat them as the basically good (though generally unkempt) children that they are. The new Primary president, who moved into the ward after our divorce and doesn’t know me at all, has quite obviously (and painfully) identified them as problem children. Mostly this turns up in overly solicitous behavior–I get TWO reminder calls if they are supposed to give a scripture or prayer or talk–but it also takes the form of lower expectations, fewer parts in the Primary program, and more watchful discipline of my kids. It’s not dramatic, and I don’t think the kids notice it too much, but it stings.
Thanks to all for your kind comments, thoughtful observations, and always revealing personal experiences.
Jessawhy, it sounds like a great book–the only problem is that I can’t begin to tell you how spectacularly unqualified I am to write it! I think it’s possible for me, if I’m very conscientious and well prepared, to be an attentive, kind, reasonable Primary worker for an hour and forty minutes a week, but being all those things 24/7 as a parent–well, that’s just orders of magnitude different. I think someone who actually is a parent ought to write the book, and then I’ll eagerly read it. (Maybe we can collectively nominate you?)
Emily, I’m eager to see the new manual as well, although I’m no longer even in nursery. But I’d really like to see what they’ve done to make the lessons more accessible to young children. Good point too about the one child who’s hard to relate to–I think if we’re honest all of us are rubbed the wrong way by some children, just as we are by some adults, and in such cases we have to make more of an effort to have a warm, affectionate relationship.
fmhlisa, me too. I love bad kids. I love kids with attitude and personality and chatter and sass. And I love quiet, reserved kids, who just take it all in and then occasionally emit wonderfully wry, understated observations. But the last thing I want is for any Primary child to conclude that Jesus wants them for a robot.
G, ugh, that sounds awful. I see some parallels between your situation and Vada’s previous post about wanting to be released from a calling she’s doing with her husband, who’s enjoying it much more than she is. I read your account over at your blog–ouch. Relations with leadership can make or break so much of church experience.
For whatever it’s worth, personally I would far rather have someone like you teaching my child than someone with more traditional views who’s syrupy or rigid (or both). But in any case, the very best of luck to you, whatever you decide to do.
EmilyCC and jendoop, thanks!
Susan, yeah, I know I’ve done a lot of well-intentioned but misguided things, as you put it, in all my church callings. My mission was maybe the worst period, but certainly in others as well.
I also really like your diffused-across-two-hours approach to lessons–I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next round in nursery. Seth, great suggestions as well. Both of you make good points about the kids who punch or say “I hate you” or hide under their chairs often just have different needs and turn out to be perfectly entertaining, engaging, charming children with the right kind of affection and support. I especially liked Seth’s final paragraph–I think that sums it up: affection, respect, flexibility.
Stephen, I think what’s so hard is that this woman just saw herself as enforcing reasonable standards of behavior–she didn’t see herself as a thief and a bully. It’s a question I come back to over and over at church, partly because my personality seems so incompatible with a lot of what happens there; to what extent are differences like this just morally neutral differences of personality, and to what extent is this kind of behavior really wrong? For me, anyway, it’s a hard call, and the subtlety of what women often do in the guise of “concern” for a “problem” child, or a “problem” sister, can wrap self-righteous condescension up in a blanket of “caring.”
Mark, thanks for weighing in from a parenting perspective, since that’s one crucial angle on this whole thing I entirely lack. I see a similar kind of stubbornness in my husband, who was famous as a child because the word “no” was utterly meaningless to him. He simply ignored it. He didn’t throw fits or call any attention to himself, but he quietly plotted ways to get what he wanted while his parents weren’t looking. For instance, waiting until they went to bed and then getting into the matches and lighting fires. It’s simply amazing he made it to adulthood alive.
But I have no doubt that your son was indeed a general in the war in heaven. 😉
S.L., I’m amazed at how similar your situation sounds to what mine was. I don’t have any children either, and I’ve sometimes felt almost unable to disagree with the people who do have kids on any matter relating to kids for precisely that reason. I mean, what do I know? (And I say that in all sincerity–I realize there are a lot of things about kids I really don’t know, not having any of my own.) But I think it’s also made me mistrust my own perceptions unnecessarily, and I think the stereotypes and jokes about the childless woman who has all the answers have often rendered me silent in the face of disagreement. The situation reminds me somewhat of being a sister missionary–there were so many unflattering stereotypes and tired jokes that I felt enormous pressure not to cause anyone any problems (or, sin of all sins for a Mormon woman, become ugly, heaven forbid!), since that was what all the elders and even the mission president were evidently waiting for me to do. When a stereotype hangs over you in that way, it becomes really hard to trust and act on your own gut instincts. At least it was for me.
I did pretty much what you’re doing with your co-worker (although he sounds like a real piece of work! At least mine didn’t have the “roaring ego” to go with the rigidity and the bribery!)–just tried to do things differently and be much more relaxed when it was my turn to teach, grit my teeth, picked my battles…it is really hard. Just as you said, it made me dread a calling I had once loved. But I don’t think I dealt with it very well, and unfortunately I don’t have any real suggestions. I was having a miserable time with church anyway, and I felt pretty low on emotional and psychological resources in terms of dealing with the situation more directly and honestly and productively. It’s one of those episodes that I look back on and feel less than happy about my own behavior. It has made me resolved to be more direct about my disagreement in the future–the very first week she started the bribery thing, I really wish I’d just refused to go along with it, told her I wasn’t comfortable with it, and given every single kid a cookie! But as I’ve said elsewhere repeatedly, I am absolutely terrible at thinking on my feet. It’s a weakness that’s a constant struggle for me.
S.L., one other thing your comment reminded me of–awhile ago, before any of the events describe above, a young couple somewhere between ten and fifteen years younger than I was got called to the nursery with me. The guy was extremely and obnoxiously condescending to me–I think he thought of himself as in charge and dictating the way things were going to be to me because he was the priesthood leader. (Can I tell you how sorry I felt for his wife?) I would have found his pomposity unbearable except that he was so young and so earnest, just barely off his mission, really, that it was also kind of funny.
Kristine, ouch, that just hurts. It’s one of those things I’m sure I haven’t been as aware of as I should have been–but now that you point it out, I remember noticing exactly those dynamics in the discussions and treatment of children from “broken” homes. A ward or two ago, one of my closest friends divorced her husband in part because he was very chronically addicted to porn. She didn’t advertise this fact–I was one of the few who knew–and I was amazed at the onslaught of criticism directed against her for breaking up the family, and at her children’s suddenly revised status in Primary. Thanks for a very crucial reminder.
My situation is somewhat different because I’m childless and my husband is inactive, but I have sometimes felt put in a category of brokenness at church. (People say the craziest things, but that’s for another post.) And I have worried about how any children we did have would be treated. Would they get messages that their family was broken and their father wicked because he doesn’t go to church? I have to admit that the very IDEA of my child being told such things makes me want to knock heads together.
On that happy note–thanks again to all contributors!
Why not just mention the nursery worker’s hang-ups to the Primary President? Is she good friends with her or something?
One thing that a person must understand when working with small children is this: just because a child is moving around or playing with something does not mean he/she isn’t listening. They very well might be. They just need to keep busy.
I had a very interesting experience while substituting for an 8 year old primary class. The lesson was on missionary work. This boy kept trying to interrupt. I had to ignore him. He didn’t like this one bit and he proceeded to aggressively pout. I handed the children a coloring sheet with a drawing of a missionary with a blank face. They were supposed to draw in their own face. This boy drew a very sad face and handed it to me. I looked up at his pouty face. All of the sudden I realized he reminded me of my son when he would pout after a tantrum. Instinctively I did what I do with my son. I asked him. “Do you need a hug?” He came up and hugged me. He then picked up another missionary coloring sheet and drew a big smile on it. The boy was cheerful didn’t give me a single problem for the rest of the time. I only taught this class once, but after that this boy would light up any time he would see me. The Spirit helped me to understand this boy’s need. I’m glad I was patient with him. Usually I’m not.
S.L., if you believe that God has called you to this position, and that he has called this man to HIS position, then maybe you could just be direct about it.
“We’ve been serving in the nursery for eight months, and it’s been going wonderfully. Now, with the changes, we all seem to be struggling. Obviously there is something we are supposed to learn from each other. What do you think we’re all supposed to learn?”
Just because he’s an arrogant prick doesn’t mean you need to cower before his pending PhD. JMHO.
As I school teacher, I feel that this post also extends to that realm of teaching and beyond. How often do we have such overwhelmingly high expectations for our significant others, children, siblings, friends, and, in my case, students, that these people will not be able to ever reach. Sometimes I realize that I am the one trying to get people to fit into my schema, when really I need to be more open-minded and ready to embrace all types of people. It’s at times like this that I pray for more patience to see others clearly and to understand their personalities and needs.
Eve, did you ever speak with the problem teacher? It troubles me to think that you just watched this dynamic develop without any attempt to intervene. As the mother of at least one child who has the potential to be seen as a troubled or “bad” kid, I would hope that a wiser, more experienced, or more understanding observer would find a way to help correct this type of pattern if it developed between my child and a teacher.
To me, your story seems to be about a teacher who is inexperienced with children and does not have a good grasp on child development, and does not know what are appropriate expectations for this age group. She’s probably not a “bad” person and is doing the best she can. Let’s all try and help teachers who are struggling.
Eve, I just read your comment #17, and can understand why you may have felt uncomfortable speaking up. I hope my previous comment didn’t feel too harsh to you. But sister, take courage!
I generally enjoyed my last calling, as Primary pianist; the kids were a lot of fun to hang out with. But I have to say I frequently found the behavior of the adults rather bizarre. One woman insisted all eyes remain on her throughout the entire Sharing Time lesson–is this a standard we even hold adults to, in Gospel Doctrine, for example? “Excuse me, Sister Hollowhead, would you mind explaining why you just glanced at the clock as I read three pages from the manual aloud in a monotone?”
And the kids would frequently be gently berated for failing to give Sunday School answers even though I really believe they were generally in earnest and their answers were far more interesting anyway. For example, once a leader tried to coax our 5-year-olds into indicating their interest in missionary work by asking leading questions about what they had that was of value that they could give to their friends. Clearly not picking up on her hints, one girl suggested instead that if she pulled the head off her friend’s Barbie, she could try to put it back on. Sure, it’s not printed in the answer key at the back of the holy manual, but I thought it was a great response!
I was also informed by the president how obvious it was which kids would grow up to be organized and accomplished and which would be flakes. (And you discerned these kids’ life trajectories how?) As with a lot of things, maybe we only like agency in ourselves. It’s disconcerting to think other people might have it.
This post was on my mind yesterday in church. I observed the kids who have aquired a reputation as bad kids, and I just didn’t see the point. OF COURSE they were grumpy! So am I when I am hungry and tired. Our meeting time is as much to blame as the children themselves. This might very possible be the sappiest thing I ever say in the bloggernacle, but as I watched those children yesterday, I felt a profound sense of love and respect for them. Father Flanagan was right. There really is no such thing as a bad boy. (Or girl.)
E, thanks for the inspiration to be a better advocate for children. At the moment I’m lazing away in an RS committee calling, but I consider nursery and Primary my true home, and I do hope that when I eventually get called back I’ll do a better job in that area, and in others.
In this particular case tricky thing lies–as it so often does–in the definition of “wiser, more experienced, and more understanding.” This completely earnest, well-meaning, and certainly hard-working woman had children of her own; I didn’t. So I think in her mind, quite understandably, she was the expert. Which only makes sense; I’d undoubtedly make the same assumption in her shoes. But it made it hard for me to disagree with her, since I felt, in a sense, that she always held the trump card of personal experience raising children.
Kiskilili–I totally agree that the greatest thing about kids is that they haven’t been socialized into Sunday school answers, and they talk about putting heads back onto Barbies as a way to do missionary work, or about how King Noah was wicked because he drank too much Gatorade. I loved the same thing about the Beehives. Once one asked if there would be basketball in heaven, so we consulted various scriptures in an attempt to find an answer for her. It was a great, real discussion, I thought.
Mark, I love it when you’re sappy. 😉
And I’m right there with you–I got so attached to the kids I worked with in nursery. To paraphrase a bit, Elder Packer may never have said a truer thing than that he didn’t meet many Primary teachers who couldn’t control their children, but he did meet a lot of Primary teachers who couldn’t control themselves.
I very much agree. Obtaining recognition and empowerment in such a situation is very hard.
What took me a while to learn was that there are times when it is appropriate not to trigger that. Some times people just are not ready for that understanding.
But it still pains my heart.
(And, makes me grateful for those who teach my child. I turned down a promotion for many reasons, but a significant one was that my daughter is an acquired taste and she is currently among those who love her. That has derailed some projects I would otherwise be putting more effort into. Been a while since I published a paper, I still need to start writing the textbook a publisher asked for.
But, it doesn’t get me anywhere, since I don’t see leaving here for the next seven years as an option — I don’t think she will be ready to start college until she is fourteen — and then I’m pretty sure I’ll have aged past marginal for any changes to way too old).
I’ve been in Primary for almost a year now and it’s making me wonder how I ever survived the boredom of SS and RS for so long! I’m the pianist, so I don’t work directly with any one class, but I do get a chance to observe the interactions with the kids a lot and I wouldn’t say that successfully working with them is a matter of “lowering” expectations, exactly, but maybe of broadening one’s expectations to encompass different personality types and maturity levels.
I concluded a few years ago that I don’t tolerate chaos particularly well, and I am a nicer person in calmer circumstances. Thus, I have perhaps more sympathy for the well-intentioned nursery worker than most readers. I’d like to think I have the sense never to withhold snacks from poorly behaved children, but I can imagine the thought process that preceded her actions.
I am very good at getting my own two children to behave very well, and I frequently receive compliments about them. Thus this:
really caught my eye. It’s so true! I can effectively teach children to be quiet, entertain themselves, and generally behave in socially-acceptable-to-adults-without-children manner. However, I am not certain at all about teaching genuine morality! I don’t think I should stop teaching them as I am, but this distinctly defines a potentially severe gap in what I do teach. Certainly, I try to teach honesty and kindness, but those seem much harder to measure than socially acceptable behavior.
There are standard (Sunday School answer) ways to teach moral behavior such as by example, in Family Home Evening, through scripture study, etc.but what about measuring the effectiveness of the teaching? I seem to have taught “don’t fight” so effectively to my children that I’m starting to have to focus on “don’t play the victim.” I’d love to hear your discussion on these ideas.
two items;
1) it’s true. kjh has the best behaved children I’ve ever met. They are also wildly spectacular in a variety of other ways.
I have to say I’ve had moments of deep cringe in watching strategies not dissimilar to those employed by the “well intentioned nursery teacher” used with them. Being a very “free spirit” oriented individual myself, it’s hard to watch, but it’s clearly worked.
These kids are not just well behaved, but also grounded, respectful, thoughtful, friendly, loving, and kind. They would be a credit to any parent or community, and if the world were full of people like them it would be an infinitely better place.
It could be luck, but I know I’m glad I’ve had the chance to watch some stricter and (arguably) somewhat manipulative parenting in action before having to ever make those choices for myself. I have no clue which rout I’m going to take.
2) my guess is, the key to teaching morality is example. I have to also guess that this is the difference between the strictly raised kids that grow up to be seething bubbles of rage and the ones who, er, don’t.
I know you mentioned example, but to me it honestly seems like everything; how could you spend your childhood raised by people who were deeply dedicated to thoughtful and heartfelt service without seeing, and feeling some of the results? And those results, those are the things that make you want to have it in your own life.
We have a small Primary so it’s a lot like a big family – and most “problem” kids aren’t a real problem.
My grandkids are in the ward, so one Sunday when I went in to see the older girl give a talk, and saw my 3 1/2 year old grandson misbehaving (His parents were out of town and we were babysitting them) I went and got him and sat in the back with him and talked to him about behaving.
The next Sunday I reminded him about behaving well – and after church asked him how it went.
“I had to talk,” he said, “so I could listen.”
I haven’t figured it out yet – but there is food for thought there!
Eve, I love this post. This bit is my favorite:
I served in nursery for several years and loved it. I was pretty laissez faire as a nursery “teacher.” I put the quotes on the term because I did hardly any teaching. But I played a lot and the kids generally liked me a lot. After I had been in the calling a while, a more strict woman was called in with me and the (I think) two other teachers. She was nowhere near as bad as the woman you served with, Eve, but she did seem to have what I thought were unreasonable expectations about how long little kids could sit in chairs. I guess there’s probably often a clash of styles in nursery. I could see this woman’s point, that the kids were going to have to sit for a long time through sometimes boring stuff in primary later so perhaps they needed a little training.
Kiskilili (#25), I really like your point about expecting much more of primary kids than adults. I had a similar reaction when I was first called back into primary as an adult–I was surprised at how much teachers got on kids’ cases for what seemed like minor things. I like Mark IV’s description (#9) that it can be easy to slip into unrighteous dominion with kids. This is certainly the case for me with my kids at times, so I guess it shouldn’t be surprising if it happens at church too.