That smart dude...

There was this story on NPR about a famous scientist.  I don't remember his name, though I'm sure he was very, very smart, and I think he won a Nobel Peace Prize... at least, that's how I remember it.  Suffice it to say, he was a brilliant scientist and he said on national radio that he owed it all to his mother. Here's the story as I recall:

When he was young scientist in the making, like around 5, his family used to get those old fashioned glass milk containers delivered to their door.  One day he tried to pick up the milk which had become slippery due to condensation on the bottle.  Well the damn thing spilled all over the floor.  His mom came over and simply said, "Oops, you spilled the milk.  Were you trying to carry it?  It was too slippery and fell out of your hands.  Let's clean this up together and then we'll practice carrying the milk." And somewhere in there she asked if he wanted to play in the milk.  I know, she's way advanced, because seriously, who really wants their kid to play with milk all over the kitchen floor.  She must have been totally zenned out.

So this scientist in the making kid is playing with the milk (what kid wouldn't seize that opportunity!) and when he was done his mom helped him pick out the cleaning implement.  He chose a sponge.  They cleaned the mess and THEN his mom filled the milk container with water and sent him outside to practice carrying the milk bottle around in a manner that would keep it from slipping from his hands. Scientist Man then said: "My Mother taught me it was okay to fail."

Wow.

Get it?

Instead of getting mad at him for trying to do something he really ought of asked for help doing, she let him PLAY IN IT, got him to clean it up WITH HER, and then encouraged him to find out how to carry it himself, WHICH (I just had to write in all caps one last time) is, in essence, a science experiment.  He explains that he failed in his experiments as an adult but he never once had the shame that is placed on "failure".  He simply played with his failure... well, I don't know if he did that but it's funny to think about, and moved on to figure out why it failed and he tried again.

My point in all of this is, inside of the Nonviolent philosophy, we don't need to shame a child, no matter how significantly we judge the unwanted behavior to be.  There is ALWAYS (all caps... sorry) room for staying connected to our kids.

Yesterday, my middle child, whom I shall name Louie (the feminine version of the name, with the emphasis on the last syllable), charges at my oldest...named...Huey (also feminine with emphasis at the end) on our little plastic, wholly unkempt dirty backyard slide.  Louie knocked Huey to the ground while Dewey (yes, my youngest, and guess where the emphasis goes?) looked on watching the entire exchange.  Huey is in tears, Louie keeps babbling that it was an accident, and Dewey stares wide eyed at me to see how I might respond.

I try to take a moment, but the sight of my Huey sprawled on the dirty ground (which is only slightly more dirty than the slide she was just knocked off of) really triggered me.  I calmly walk toward the trio, and a bit like the Hulk I go for my default grabbing of poor Louie's arms to ask her "What were you thinking?!?"  I grab too tight, tighter than I mean...damn that always happens to me.

I release my grip the moment I see Louie's bottom lip tremble and her eyes get watery.  I really have to breathe.  I put my head down, take a moment, and then look up to focus intensely on my child's sweet blue 4 year-old eyes.

I simply say, "I was really scared for your sister.  It looked like it really hurt.  Baby, please be careful."  She says, "It was an accident".

I say, "I know.  Please be careful of people's bodies."  I wait a beat to see her acknowledgement.  I check in with Dewey (she's now moved to the nasty old slide).  Low and behold, my baby is crouching down next to Louie.  She's totally checking in with Louie.  She saw everything I did and is parroting me.

She's the sponge in this experiment.
Huey was the milk.
Louie was the scientist in the making kid.
Dewey was the sponge.
I cannot shame my child for making a mistake.
I CAN help show her how to do it in a way that won't spill the milk.

The milk was not hurt in this story.  She was fine.  We sat down and talked for a bit.  She saw it was a mistake.

I don't ever want my kids to be afraid to make a mistake.
I want them to intrinsically learn from them.
And then I want them to try again because they want to, not because I make them.
Punishment will, 100% of the time, succeed in making a child scared.

Let me ask you, do you learn best when you're scared?
Do you remember the teachers you had in school because they scared you or because they took the time to talk to you, connect with you, and show you how to do something?

I'm going to go clean that slide now.