Trust children
My son, a 4 year-old, ended up in an unpleasant predicament last week. I reached his classroom to pick him up. He, ready to leave, walked to the door. One of his friends decided to block the door with his arms. My son, upset at this insisted on leaning his body into his friends arms. His friend didn't let go. My boy pushed in even further. They two exchanged heated words while leaning into each other's bodies. Then before we knew it, right before three adults, they pushed each other and my son landed on the floor, his head hitting a bench and then the floor.
The teacher ran to my son. I ran to the other boy. My son was in tears. The other boy was shocked by what he had done. In those first few moments, it felt like the other boys "fault". As my son settled we left. The teacher spent time talking to the other boy. My son was upset and swore never "to be friends with him". We processed his feelings. Really what I focused on was how my son could have spoken to the boy instead of using his body to push through the doorway.
Well-meaning adults that we are, the teacher called later in the evening to check on my son. The boy's mother called and spoke to me. As we spoke, it became evident that really what would help was for the two boys to talk. So, we handed them the phone, both mother's sitting right next to each boy, coaching, even feeding lines to be said. They said the perfunctory "sorry" and then muttered statements like, "but why did you push me". We mothers tried to hush those statements out of the conversation. We wanted resolution and good behavior. The boys followed our script but every once in a while they broke out of it to say something like, "next time, if you do this, I am not going to be your friend."
On our way to school the next morning, I asked my son how he was feeling. For the nth time I heard him say, "You know this is not the first time that boy has hurt me or my feelings. If he does it one more time, I am not going to be his friend." Something within me made me pause and instead of the usual, "but you are friends with so many other kids who have also hurt your feelings in the past" speech, I responded with, "I understand. You need to take care of yourself. If that makes you feel better, I hope you will go ahead with it. I won't suggest otherwise." I couldn't help myself. My moment of clarity had already passed so I added, "You know I think that many grown-ups have spoken to the other boy about how he should not have pushed you down. I think you pushed him too. And now, I feel like the other boy is very sad that all of us grown-ups and you are pointing a finger at him. I think he is feeling so bad he doesn't even want to talk about it. I think he is feeling ashamed. That must feel so uncomfortable and embarrasing to him. Maybe you can talk to him a little before you tell him how you don't want to be his friend."
When we got to school, my moment of clarity was even more distant. I continued to prod my son into talking to the other boy, especially when we saw a letter from him in my son's cubby. My son didn't choose to do so. I leaned in further with my suggestion. My boy just walked over to the sensory table where the other boy was and started to play. I decided to let go, more because I was running out of time than anything else.
A few minutes later, when I walked over to say goodbye, I witnessed what I had so desparately hoped all along. My son had taken the other boy by his hands and led him to a quieter part of the room. The two of them were sitting on the floor, holding hands and saying, "why did you push me?" "I know I shouldn't have but you pushed me too." "Next time, if you do it, I am not going to be your friend." "Next time, lets just not push. But you need to hear what I say." Their eyes were locked, their hands held, their bodies close, they were huddled away from all of us adults trying to have the conversation they wanted to have. They knew what they needed to say and how they needed to say it.
I paused, smiled and walked over to the teacher. I suggested that we adults step out of the way now and let the boys sort it out. It had taken over 20 hours for us to land on this realization. In the days to come, the two boys partnered up for all outings, hugged and professed, "I love you"s. As I reflected on the incident, I came to two conclusions — It is critical to hear children's feelings completely. This is hard to do. We adults have our own agenda. We want resolutions. We want to know we have done our jobs. Children want to be heard and seen. They need their feelings to be seen, no matter how raw and unpolished they might seem to us. Their feelings are the windows into their own resolution of conflicts. I wish I heard listened more and said less. My second conclusion is that children can work it out between themselves. If they are heard, they feel safe, when they feel safe, the move forward with a sense of security and care. They can work things out. When my boy and the other moved into a quiet space, away from adults to have their 'heart-to-heart', they were implicitly saying to us, "we can do this on our own. We know how to do it. We have our own way of doing it. Please just let us do it."
Let them do it. Hear them. Trust them. I think this applies in many situations, including choosing a school.