One guest lecturer in my Rabbinics Seminar at Yeshiva University began his address in a way that I did not at first understand. Turning to one of the students, he asked, “What do you plan to teach?†“Chumash,†answered the student.
“No. Wrong.†The presenter turned to another student, “What will you teach?â€
“Gemmara?†came the tentative response.
“Nope.â€
The presenter looked around the room, but by this point none of us were interested in trying our luck. He paused a moment before revealing what he was looking for, “Children. You will be teaching children. You may teach them any range of Torah or general subjects, but first and foremost you are teaching children.â€
At the time, I thought this was just a cute opening shtick. But over the last 15 years working as a madrich, teacher, and school administrator I have come to believe that putting students at the center of our work is the single most important guiding principle in our profession. It is the central idea from which discussions of differentiation, project-based learning, the maker movement, and blended learning all emerge. And it is the barometer by which the authenticity and effectiveness of each of these approaches must be measured.
Yet as professional educators so much of our energy is devoted to the pragmatic application of a student-centered approach that we do not have the chance to uncover the core of what it means to put children at the center.
Recently, I had the opportunity to broaden my own professional perspective as I composed Parenting in Perspective, a book applying developmental theory and progressive educational philosophy beyond the classroom to the world of family and parenting.
To be clear, teaching and parenting are fundamentally different. On the most basic level, teaching is a profession while parenting is deeply personal, to say nothing of the myriad practical differences between the two. But while we always must bear these distinctions in mind, it is clear that considering a teacher perspective can elevate our parenting, and considering a parenting perspective can enrich our teaching. Parenting by its very nature leads the sort of in-depth focus on a lengthy relationship which can stimulate our thinking on what it means to truly put children at the center.
Consider, for example, what we as educators might learn from the advice given to the hypothetical Stein family as they struggle to raise their children. (Excerpted from Parenting in Perspective, Introduction and Chapter One)
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We want our children to adhere to a complex set of values, successfully navigate an array of challenging situations, and emerge with a sense of wholeness and commitment. But we cannot tell our children exactly how to get there. No matter how much guidance we share or how many morality lessons we teach, we will fall short.
And so we must begin by adjusting our perceptions. Our role is not to offer instruction and criticism to the lead actors until they get the scene right. The successful parent is more stagehand than director, understanding that the task is to carefully construct the environments and relationships of which their child is the center. Of course, any loving parent will tell you that their child is the center of their life. But what does it mean to truly place the child at the center?
Tell the Steins that they do not put their children at the center of their lives and you are not likely to get a kind response. Their anger or incredulity would be quite understandable. Consider for a moment the fortune they spend each year on day school and summer camp, not to mention the clothing, phones, assorted toys, and the recent bat mitzva. Ninety percent of the family budget is spent on the children. The family schedule follows a similar pattern. Carpool runs occupy each morning and afternoon, and Sundays are spent shuttling between soccer games, play practice, and tutoring sessions. Dr. Stein loves taking the kids out to watch the local NBA or MLB teams play, and the whole family vacations together at least once a year.
No, the Steins will tell you, their children are most certainly the center of their lives. And the evidence would seem to support them. If you were to compare their schedule to any other family’s, you would not find any glaring differences. So what are the Steins missing?
PERCEPTION
The truth is that spending a lot of time or money on something may not be the most meaningful indicator of what is at the “center†of one’s life. At least not in a way that is helpful in raising children. Take the middle-aged man down the block who recently purchased a sports car. He has likely spent the majority of this year’s salary on the car. He drives the car to work, he drives it around the block, and when he is not driving it he is washing and waxing it in his driveway. By the barometers of time and money, the car may well be said to be the center of his life.
Putting aside the question of misplaced priorities for a moment, this example illustrates that the investment of time, money, and even energy is not a helpful indicator as we attempt to understand what it means to put our children at the center. Few parents would want to see their efforts at childrearing compared to the obsession of a midlife crisis. Yet if we are not careful, our devotion to our children may have more in common with the sports car than we would care to admit.
What can caring parents possibly have in common with our sports car driver? Perception.
All that we pour into our children will fall flat if we make the mistake of seeing them as passive objects at the center of our lives. To place children at the center in a meaningful way, we must view them not as objects in our lives but as the subjects of their own.
The driver may care deeply about the sports car, but we would not expect him to think about whether sheltering it in the garage will stunt its long-term development. We certainly would not expect him to allow the car to make its own choices about how fast to drive or what route to take. Yet this is exactly what we must do with our children. We must see them as independent individuals who are the central actors in their own lives. Lives which we are privileged to support, inspire, and sustain as their parents, but lives which, in the final analysis, are fundamentally independent.
ANSWERS
How can we treat our children as independent individuals?
One helpful way to start is by considering how we answer their questions. Especially the tough ones. For example, what did the Steins answer seven years ago when Rachel, then age five, looked up from a puzzle she was working on and asked, “Why is there a moon?â€
Debbie Stein took the question very seriously. Thinking back to her own childhood education, she remembered a rabbinic teaching about the first days of creation. Smiling at her preschooler, she led her over to the living room sofa, where the two sat down together. “Let me tell you a story,†she began. “When God created the world, He made two large lights, the sun and the moon. They were both beautiful and equally bright. The sun was quite happy, but the moon became upset. The moon complained to God, ‘Both the sun and I can’t be the same size. How will people know who is in charge? How will they know which of us is more important?’ ‘You’re right,’ responded God, and quickly shrank the moon to a much smaller size because of its jealousy.†Debbie finished and looked at Rachel, who seemed to have enjoyed the story and was eager to go back to finishing her puzzle.
Mrs. Stein walked away from this gratifying mother-daughter moment certain that she had just scored an A in parenting. Most of us would feel similarly. Debbie does indeed deserve credit for setting aside time and attention for her daughter, and for sharing a beautiful story from our tradition. Yet there may be another side to this experience. While Debbie had transmitted a teaching, she had also subtly conveyed that she was the source of knowledge, that she had the answers, and that Rachel’s job was to sit nicely and listen to her mom’s explanations. Mrs. Stein believed she had helped Rachel learn something new, yet in her attempt to teach she may have actually undercut her child’s independence.
QUESTIONS
The Italian educator Carlina Rinaldi suggests a strikingly simple alternative: “When your child asks, ‘Why is there a moon?’ don’t reply with a scientific answer. Ask him, ‘What do you think?’ †To many of us, this answer sounds like a cop-out, a creative way of avoiding the question if we ourselves do not know the answer. But imagine what would happen if Debbie had taken Rinaldi’s approach:
Five-year-old Rachel looked up from her puzzle to ask, “Why is there a moon?†Debbie took the question very seriously. She turned to Rachel and asked, “What do you think?†Rachel kept working on her puzzle, but Mrs. Stein could see the wheels begin to turn. She let Rachel continue to play. A moment later Rachel looked up and said, “Maybe God did not want us to be scared at night. Just like you put a nightlight in my room.†Rachel kept working on the puzzle, rattling off more questions for her mom as she did. Each time Debbie let Rachel make the first suggestion and lead the discussion.
Taking Rinaldi’s approach, Mrs. Stein would not have taught her daughter the rabbinic lesson mentioned above. But Rachel would have learned something much more important. She would have learned that her own thoughts mattered, that she was her mother’s partner in exploring the world, and that she had a role to play in her own growth process.
When we respond to our children in this way, we are teaching them a different vital lesson from the story of creation. The Bible describes human beings as created in the image of God and imbued with the unique capacity for independent thought and free moral choice. When we value our children’s thoughts, we teach them that they are fundamentally capable of independent thought and free choice – whether they are five or fifteen – at their own developmental level. More important, we demonstrate to them that we know they are capable of independent thought.
To be fair, we must admit that any parent of a five-year-old faces at least a hundred questions a day. It is neither possible nor appropriate to respond like Rinaldi to all of these questions. But those of us who find Rinaldi’s approach surprising may want to reexamine how we are placing our children at the center of our lives.
We devote an astounding amount of our time, attention, and life’s resources to our children, and we deserve credit for doing so. Yet some of us still refer to our children as prized or most precious “possessions,†and even those of us who recoil at the phrase may find that it is all too accurate a description of how we see our kids.
DOWN THE LINE
If the questions of a five-year-old do not strike us as particularly difficult, consider how Debbie will respond a few years down the line, when teenage Rachel asks why bad things happen to good people, or why God cares what we do or don’t do on Shabbat.
Even if Debbie is well equipped to share Judaic or philosophical perspectives on such complex issues, launching into these responses will reveal once again that she sees Rachel as a passive recipient of her adult knowledge, as a dependent object. Anyone who has tried to persuade a teenager to do the day’s homework, drive safely, or listen to any form of rule knows exactly how teenage Rachel will respond to her mother’s explanations.
On the other hand, if year after year Debbie routinely responds to questions by inviting Rachel herself into the process, demonstrating that Rachel is a full partner in her own growth, she will establish a very different dynamic. Rachel will learn that she plays an active role in making sense of the world. She will be perturbed by the question of why bad things happen to good people, but she will understand that it is her own responsibility to work through this question together with her parents.
For her part, Debbie will not feel the need to answer Rachel’s questions. She knows that simply answering the question would be selling her daughter short. Rachel is not a passive vessel to be filled. Rachel is an active participant, an independent partner whose growth and exploration Debbie must support and guide.
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The way teachers choose to respond to students’ questions is affected by many factors (such as classmates) which do not impact a parent-child exchange. Yet considering the role of questions and answers as an element of relationship rather than a pedagogic technique pushes us to expand our educational thinking.
Similarly, as educators we often approach the concept of child-centered education very technically. We explore classroom structures and modes of pedagogy or assessment that move us towards this goal. However, reflecting on the same ideal from a parenting perspective ensures that we move beyond the technical applications to appreciate the underlying paradigm shift required to see students as independent partners in our classrooms.
The same is true when we think about concepts such as child development, relationship-building, discipline or the challenges of adolescence. In all of these cases successful teachers possess professional knowledge and skills beyond that of the average parent. But wise teachers also realize that examining the issues from a parenting lens can enrich and deepen our understanding of and relationship with our students.
Rabbi Dr. Kislowicz’s book, Parenting in Perspective: Timeless wisdom, modern applications is now available on Amazon -[
www.amazon.com]
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 06/05/2016 08:02AM by mlb.
