In his State of the Union address last night, President Obama spoke of the responsibility of parents in educating their children. “That responsibility begins not in our classrooms, but in our homes and communities,” he said. “It’s family that first instills the love of learning in a child.”
Yes. And it works the other way around, too. Teaching our children educates us anew. Becoming a parent often feels like taking an out-of-town friend on a tour, allowing you to see familiar sights through a visitor’s eyes, and asking you to remember what it is you love (or don’t) about where you live.
Lee Skallerup Bessette feels this duality keenly when reading to her two young children. Yes, she reads aloud because of all those studies that show that children do better at everything in life if their parents read aloud. And she reads aloud because it’s cozy and fun. But there are other reasons, too. As she writes in a guest post today, her children are not the only one learning from the stories.
READING MAKES MY CHILDREN (AND ME) BETTER
When I was an undergrad, I took a course in children’s literature. One of our assignments was to revisit some of the books we remembered reading as children. I was a voracious reader, and I have no real memories of reading anything other than chapter books. As I wandered the children’s chapter-book shelves at the local library, books that I had long forgotten jumped out to me: “Tales of the Fourth-Grade Nothing,” “Little House on the Prairie,” “James and the Giant Peach” and “Ramona the Brave.” I excitedly borrowed those books and more to read and write about.
There is a moment at the end of “Ramona the Brave” where Ramona is overwhelmed and frustrated by circumstances in her life. She declares that she will scream a very bad word, the only way she can think of to express the depths of her feelings to her parents. Stomping her feet, she yells: “Guts!” Her parents burst out laughing, and, rereading it as a college student, I was reduced to tears. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the memory of feeling at a loss for words, like no one heard me or understood how I felt. And how dare they laugh at this poor girl’s very real attempt at releasing her frustrations?
Almost 15 years later I am now the mother of two young kids. My daughter is still too young for chapter books, but she recently discovered my old childhood copy of “Alexander and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.” We read it and, like any good piece of literature, I can use the opportunity to talk about a bad day she may have had. But I am also reminded as a parent how completely overwhelming a bad day can seem to a child, as trivial as the events may seem to me as an adult. We have also repeatedly read the classics “I Was So Mad” and “All by Myself,” which I use as reminders as to not only how frustrating life can be to a child, but also how wondrous common events and milestones are to that same child.
Parents need to be reminded of the uncomfortable realities of a child’s perception of the world. One way that I try to empathize with my children is through the stories we read together. I might lose my patience with them, but I am reminded of their worldview through the books, reminded of my own childhood full of my own ups and downs. If I can remember what it felt like when I, like Ramona, was laughed at or seemingly dismissed by my parents, then maybe I can try to do better for my own kids.
But the stories also remind me (and hopefully my kids) that no parent is perfect, in fiction or reality. I think, in our quest to be the perfect parent, this is something we need to be reminded of more regularly. Ramona’s parents are loving people who are dealing with two demanding children with different temperaments the best they can. The Little Critter’s parents, in turn, set limits (no petting the fish or juggling eggs) which are not unreasonable, no matter how much he may want to transgress them. Alexander’s day is truly awful, and his mom’s day, to me, now, doesn’t seem to be going that much better, either. That being said, I can’t bring myself to read the line in “The Tale of Tom Kitten” where his mother “smacks” them for being naughty.
So now, when my son, who has yet to start talking, throws a tantrum because I can’t figure out what he wants, and I want to shout out of frustration myself, I’ll try to remember that, for him, it is his own terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. And if I forget, I’ll remember Alexander’s mother’s advice: Some days are like that. For both parents and kids. We know, because we can read about it together.
What children’s books teach you parenting lessons? Suggestions are welcome. As you can see from my children’s reading list, our library tends towards the “classics”; updating would probably be a good idea.
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