I follow up last weeks post, which I dub the worst ever, with a post where I totally have my game back. Yea, get psyched. This is a post for the record books. It's gonna be awesome. It's philosophical, thought provoking, and yet easy to fallow. Share it on facebook if you like it, I'd really love a ton of people to read it.
Kids. Chillun. Young-uns. Little ones. Munchkins, as my mother calls them. Ah, what a massively interesting and important concept to my life at this moment in time. I mean, I am a kindergarten teacher after all. But not only in my life is this an important concept. Really, the concept of what children are, and what they mean for us as people, the question of what we are supposed to do with them, and the curiosity of what it means to be a child, is perhaps, alongside the concept of death, the most universal and common enigma beheld by every member of the human race at one point or another. Sure, there are other philosophical musings that are universal. But at some point, almost everyone looks at a child and wonders, "What is that exactly?"
After all, all of us were one of those at one point or another. A child, that is. Because one can not become an adult without first having been a child. And yet, once one achieves adulthood, childhood is lost to a degree. We may remember this experience, or that feeling. But it's impossible to really remember why we thought the things we thought, and why we did the things we did. I myself was sure, when I was a child, that I would never lose my understanding of childhood. And perhaps I have retained my understanding to a greater degree than many adults. But it is not a perfect understanding. There is still wonder, amusement, curiosity, and confusion when I watch children.
Children act in way that is simultaneously more authentic and yet more delusional than the way an adult acts. A child exhibits the most distilled aspects of humanity, yet simultaneously completely fails to comprehend the most essential components of what makes human life what it is. A child is utterly absorbed in it's own experience, incapable of imagining life as another person, and yet still somehow manages to more naturally demonstrate things such as caring and sharing than most adults. From an adults perspective, childhood is an existence composed entirely of paradoxes. But to the child, as with the dreamer, everything makes sense, and no alternative is ever fathomed.
We call children innocent, but they are not exactly. At least not in the way we usually think of the word. They are not innocent in the sense that they are not guilty of wrongdoings. In fact, they are probably more guilty of wrongdoings, in the form of immaturities, selfishness, disrespect, etc., than are adults. But the difference is that they are not aware of their actions as wrong. They have to be taught what is wrong and what is right. When they do something we consider wrong, they have no feeling of guilt, because they are unaware that they have not acted completely appropriately. Guilt must be learned, and wrong vs. right are constructions of society. This is innocence. To be innocent does not mean to have not done something wrong. To be innocent means to not realize that one has done something wrong. Yet innocence goes beyond whether an action is itself considered right or wrong, but continues to be about a lack of understanding. We say that children are innocent because they lack experience, and lack the understandings that such experiences provide. Everything is new to a child, and this is what makes children and childhood beautiful. They experience joy from things that adults consider simple and meaningless.
But isn't joy itself meaningful? Why don't adults ever sit in a circle and play a rousing game of "duck duck goose"? I can't imagine that even now I wouldn't find pleasure in the simple joy of chasing each other around in a circle. So why don't we ever do it? I suppose the simple answer is that we have other things to occupy ourselves with. We like to drink, and dance, and play more complex games, such as pool, or tennis, or I don't know, Dungeons and Dragons. We have the independence and mobility to go out and do things, such as attend concerts, and festivals, and go to museums. But because we have more independence, mobility, and options, we are less able to be completely spontaneous, and activities have to be planned and organized. I suppose it's difficult to imagine a group of adults making the effort to plan a game of duck duck goose.
What, then, can we learn about ourselves from children? I have learned many things about humanity. I have learned, for example, just how hive-mind like we are. I have seen the way that ideas and habits transfer from one child to another like a disease. This often happens completely empathicaly, without any form of verbal communication or explanation on the subject. Jokes and silly little games or tricks are perfect examples. I'm often amazed at the things kids find funny and amusing. One kid will find something amusing, and suddenly it is the silly little thing of the day in the entire school. But I think that what causes such things to spread is the desire by the other children to share in the amusement. The details or substance of the thing are irrelevant compared to the mental construct of "I want in! What's so funny? I want to laugh at something too!". The joke, then, becomes the simple fact that there is a joke, and not at all what the joke actually is. This is why I find it so easy to entertain my kids. I just have to do something in a way that tells them that it is funny, never mind what.
As adults we care somewhat more for the details and substances of the things that amuse us. But this I think is only because we can be more discerning. We have found our social groups with which we identify, and the groups to which we belong are differentiated from other social groups to which others belong. And in fact, we determine what these groups are based on the emotional decisions that we make, what we find funny for example. There is less pressure to find something funny just because someone else does, because if we don't find it funny, we will simply find someone else who does not. Yet we all still respond to the expectations of those around us, even when those expectations are unspoken. And it doesn't even always come in the form of expectations. Sometimes it's just a matter of common feelings, and reacting to a stimuli in a common way. But we want to react in a common way. It lets us know that we aren't alone. And that is the greatest fear to the human psyche, the fear of being alone. We function best with others. This is why we form families, and social groups, and organizations, and governments. We want to identify with others, because we don't know how to completely identify as individuals, even though we all are individuals. We learn to identify as individuals somewhat more as we grow. But as children, the psychological need is very much on acceptance and incorporation.
For example, I have one student who is very good about listening to me whenever I scold him for something. If he does something wrong, and I tell him, he will say "Yes, Teacher.", and stop immediately. But then when he perceives another student doing a similar thing, he will take it upon himself to scold that student for it. Of course, then I have to scold him for that, and remind him that I am the teacher and not him. He says yes to that as well, but he doesn't quite seem to get it, because he does this quite frequently. I have been pondering why this is exactly. And I think it must stem from this same need of acceptance and belonging. He wants my acceptance of course, and so he doesn't want to do something he knows I consider wrong, and he also wants to demonstrate to me that he understands my desires by attempting to enforce them. Simultaneously, he wants to feel like he belongs with his peers, that he is a member of the group, and so if there is an action he will not do out of desire for my acceptance, he does not want the other students to do it either, because if they do then he will be disconnected from them in some small way. Do I have any psychologists out there reading this? These are all very intuitive understandings, I would love a professionals take on them if possible.
And so, to finish this all off, I'd just like to comment on how much I am enjoying teaching, and how much I love being a teacher. I'm really starting to identify with it, and I think the particular job I have here is as much responsible for my growth as a person, if not more so, than the whole traveling and living in another country thing. Not that I was every particularly irresponsible, but this is a new kind of responsibility, the responsibility of being responsible for the development of another. I constantly have to be aware of my actions and how they will be perceived (and often imitated) by my children. And that's another thing. Not the children but my children. Because as any parent, I desire and take joy in their success, I relish in their laughter, I wonder about their future. I don't just teach them English, I teach them life lessons. I'm not just a teacher, but a role model. I'm also a disciplinarian. And that has actually proven to be the most difficult part of my job, because I've never been one to enforce my perspective or my morality on another. In that respect I have always been a very mellow and laid back kind of person. But you can't be with young children. They require a degree of discipline, and it has often been a challenge figuring out where to draw the lines, and determining and following through with appropriate punishments when those lines are crossed. But that too has made me a stronger and more mature person.
I never used to think I was good with children. When I first started applying to schools out here I specifically avoided all descriptions involving kindergartners. And yet, it turns out that I couldn't imagine a more fulfilling or rewarding job. I think I never appreciated before just how important kindergarten teachers are, just how important to development that age is. There's a lot that goes into it. It doesn't really require a lot of specific knowledge, or even necessarily a ton of training. I've certainly been able to pick up the skills pretty much as I go. It requires patience, kindness, love, compassion, empathy, firmness. It requires a lot of heart. It provides you with perspective and wisdom.
I've joked with some friends before about how many terrible parents there are in the world, and how to combat that, as well as to cut down on overpopulation, we should require people to acquire a license of some sort before reproducing. I think a requirement to getting such a license should be to teach kindergarten for a year.
-Mongoose
Kids. Chillun. Young-uns. Little ones. Munchkins, as my mother calls them. Ah, what a massively interesting and important concept to my life at this moment in time. I mean, I am a kindergarten teacher after all. But not only in my life is this an important concept. Really, the concept of what children are, and what they mean for us as people, the question of what we are supposed to do with them, and the curiosity of what it means to be a child, is perhaps, alongside the concept of death, the most universal and common enigma beheld by every member of the human race at one point or another. Sure, there are other philosophical musings that are universal. But at some point, almost everyone looks at a child and wonders, "What is that exactly?"
After all, all of us were one of those at one point or another. A child, that is. Because one can not become an adult without first having been a child. And yet, once one achieves adulthood, childhood is lost to a degree. We may remember this experience, or that feeling. But it's impossible to really remember why we thought the things we thought, and why we did the things we did. I myself was sure, when I was a child, that I would never lose my understanding of childhood. And perhaps I have retained my understanding to a greater degree than many adults. But it is not a perfect understanding. There is still wonder, amusement, curiosity, and confusion when I watch children.
Children act in way that is simultaneously more authentic and yet more delusional than the way an adult acts. A child exhibits the most distilled aspects of humanity, yet simultaneously completely fails to comprehend the most essential components of what makes human life what it is. A child is utterly absorbed in it's own experience, incapable of imagining life as another person, and yet still somehow manages to more naturally demonstrate things such as caring and sharing than most adults. From an adults perspective, childhood is an existence composed entirely of paradoxes. But to the child, as with the dreamer, everything makes sense, and no alternative is ever fathomed.
We call children innocent, but they are not exactly. At least not in the way we usually think of the word. They are not innocent in the sense that they are not guilty of wrongdoings. In fact, they are probably more guilty of wrongdoings, in the form of immaturities, selfishness, disrespect, etc., than are adults. But the difference is that they are not aware of their actions as wrong. They have to be taught what is wrong and what is right. When they do something we consider wrong, they have no feeling of guilt, because they are unaware that they have not acted completely appropriately. Guilt must be learned, and wrong vs. right are constructions of society. This is innocence. To be innocent does not mean to have not done something wrong. To be innocent means to not realize that one has done something wrong. Yet innocence goes beyond whether an action is itself considered right or wrong, but continues to be about a lack of understanding. We say that children are innocent because they lack experience, and lack the understandings that such experiences provide. Everything is new to a child, and this is what makes children and childhood beautiful. They experience joy from things that adults consider simple and meaningless.
But isn't joy itself meaningful? Why don't adults ever sit in a circle and play a rousing game of "duck duck goose"? I can't imagine that even now I wouldn't find pleasure in the simple joy of chasing each other around in a circle. So why don't we ever do it? I suppose the simple answer is that we have other things to occupy ourselves with. We like to drink, and dance, and play more complex games, such as pool, or tennis, or I don't know, Dungeons and Dragons. We have the independence and mobility to go out and do things, such as attend concerts, and festivals, and go to museums. But because we have more independence, mobility, and options, we are less able to be completely spontaneous, and activities have to be planned and organized. I suppose it's difficult to imagine a group of adults making the effort to plan a game of duck duck goose.
What, then, can we learn about ourselves from children? I have learned many things about humanity. I have learned, for example, just how hive-mind like we are. I have seen the way that ideas and habits transfer from one child to another like a disease. This often happens completely empathicaly, without any form of verbal communication or explanation on the subject. Jokes and silly little games or tricks are perfect examples. I'm often amazed at the things kids find funny and amusing. One kid will find something amusing, and suddenly it is the silly little thing of the day in the entire school. But I think that what causes such things to spread is the desire by the other children to share in the amusement. The details or substance of the thing are irrelevant compared to the mental construct of "I want in! What's so funny? I want to laugh at something too!". The joke, then, becomes the simple fact that there is a joke, and not at all what the joke actually is. This is why I find it so easy to entertain my kids. I just have to do something in a way that tells them that it is funny, never mind what.
As adults we care somewhat more for the details and substances of the things that amuse us. But this I think is only because we can be more discerning. We have found our social groups with which we identify, and the groups to which we belong are differentiated from other social groups to which others belong. And in fact, we determine what these groups are based on the emotional decisions that we make, what we find funny for example. There is less pressure to find something funny just because someone else does, because if we don't find it funny, we will simply find someone else who does not. Yet we all still respond to the expectations of those around us, even when those expectations are unspoken. And it doesn't even always come in the form of expectations. Sometimes it's just a matter of common feelings, and reacting to a stimuli in a common way. But we want to react in a common way. It lets us know that we aren't alone. And that is the greatest fear to the human psyche, the fear of being alone. We function best with others. This is why we form families, and social groups, and organizations, and governments. We want to identify with others, because we don't know how to completely identify as individuals, even though we all are individuals. We learn to identify as individuals somewhat more as we grow. But as children, the psychological need is very much on acceptance and incorporation.
For example, I have one student who is very good about listening to me whenever I scold him for something. If he does something wrong, and I tell him, he will say "Yes, Teacher.", and stop immediately. But then when he perceives another student doing a similar thing, he will take it upon himself to scold that student for it. Of course, then I have to scold him for that, and remind him that I am the teacher and not him. He says yes to that as well, but he doesn't quite seem to get it, because he does this quite frequently. I have been pondering why this is exactly. And I think it must stem from this same need of acceptance and belonging. He wants my acceptance of course, and so he doesn't want to do something he knows I consider wrong, and he also wants to demonstrate to me that he understands my desires by attempting to enforce them. Simultaneously, he wants to feel like he belongs with his peers, that he is a member of the group, and so if there is an action he will not do out of desire for my acceptance, he does not want the other students to do it either, because if they do then he will be disconnected from them in some small way. Do I have any psychologists out there reading this? These are all very intuitive understandings, I would love a professionals take on them if possible.
And so, to finish this all off, I'd just like to comment on how much I am enjoying teaching, and how much I love being a teacher. I'm really starting to identify with it, and I think the particular job I have here is as much responsible for my growth as a person, if not more so, than the whole traveling and living in another country thing. Not that I was every particularly irresponsible, but this is a new kind of responsibility, the responsibility of being responsible for the development of another. I constantly have to be aware of my actions and how they will be perceived (and often imitated) by my children. And that's another thing. Not the children but my children. Because as any parent, I desire and take joy in their success, I relish in their laughter, I wonder about their future. I don't just teach them English, I teach them life lessons. I'm not just a teacher, but a role model. I'm also a disciplinarian. And that has actually proven to be the most difficult part of my job, because I've never been one to enforce my perspective or my morality on another. In that respect I have always been a very mellow and laid back kind of person. But you can't be with young children. They require a degree of discipline, and it has often been a challenge figuring out where to draw the lines, and determining and following through with appropriate punishments when those lines are crossed. But that too has made me a stronger and more mature person.
I never used to think I was good with children. When I first started applying to schools out here I specifically avoided all descriptions involving kindergartners. And yet, it turns out that I couldn't imagine a more fulfilling or rewarding job. I think I never appreciated before just how important kindergarten teachers are, just how important to development that age is. There's a lot that goes into it. It doesn't really require a lot of specific knowledge, or even necessarily a ton of training. I've certainly been able to pick up the skills pretty much as I go. It requires patience, kindness, love, compassion, empathy, firmness. It requires a lot of heart. It provides you with perspective and wisdom.
I've joked with some friends before about how many terrible parents there are in the world, and how to combat that, as well as to cut down on overpopulation, we should require people to acquire a license of some sort before reproducing. I think a requirement to getting such a license should be to teach kindergarten for a year.
-Mongoose
