The picnic was in full swing. A fifth grade graduation celebration where the guests of honor were not little kids any more, but not quite teenagers either. They were learning, though, by practicing, playing at being older. Girls were admiring each other’s jewelry, cooing over the latest clothing fads and the aps on their smart phones -- tools of the pre-teen trade. Mid-conversation with a group of parents, one mother realized that she hadn’t seen her daughter for a while. She did a quick scan of the party. Where was she? Not with the girls huddled together whispering. Not with the group around the food table. Not with the flirty girls being chased by the boys. And then – ah -- there she was. Sitting at a distant picnic table, facing away from the crowd, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, gazing down as she ate her hot dog. Her heart seized at the sight of her daughter, alone, ignored, unnoticed.
My heart went out to this woman, a work mate, because I have been through similar times with my daughters. And I have personal experience to draw from. Flashbacks to the times when I felt like a no-count nobody because I was excluded from social events or teased and publicly humiliated. I still get mad – 40 years later -- just thinking about it.
I was the little girl with frizzy hair, crooked teeth and an innocence that did not allow me to fight back when people were mean. I didn’t know how to play the cruel games most of the girls had learned. I must have been absent the day they taught that class. And I suffered for it.
When my daughters had similar experiences, I hurt for both of us because I remembered what it felt like. But I also remembered something that my mother taught me. She taught me not to exclude, not to be mean. Instead, she encouraged me to seek out people who were alone. She taught me to take the hurt I had known, empathize with others and help them in some way. At the very least, to never, ever cause anyone the pain I had felt.
Her lessons were hard learned. For example when it came time for my birthday party, I had to invite everyone in the class – even the girls no one ever invited. The outcasts, the untouchables. And while I didn’t want to, fearful for my already tenuous social position, I did. Because she made me. And because I knew that she was right. My invitation may have been the only one those girls received all year. Now, all this time later, having raised two girls of my own, I’m grateful to my mother for modeling that, for showing me one way to be in this world.
As a mother myself, it broke my heart to walk over to school and find my daughter jumping rope in the corner of the play court, alone, clearly not by choice. Taking a cue from my mother, I encouraged both my girls to reach out to classmates who were new or seemed lonely. I was not always successful and I walked a fine line between my agenda and their social self-development. But I wanted to instill in them a value. The value of inclusiveness.
Growing up is hard work. Growing as a person is even harder, at times excruciating. But what values are we teaching our kids when we allow them to be mean, to exclude?
As parents, we have a daunting power and responsibility, not just in the formation of our children but in the kind of world they, and their children, will live in as adults. The values we teach them will directly affect that world, long after we are gone. Girls today grow up with severe self-image problems, pressure to dress in less and less clothing, revealing more and more of their bodies, creating eating disorders…. all just to fit in. But what is underneath all of that? If you spend that much time on appearance, that much time finagling your social position, when will you find time to develop your inner life, the core of your being, the connections with others that have meaning and that radiate out to the world, the environment?
At my class reunions, I have found that many of my peers who were popular back in the day, burned out early and don’t have a lot to show now. Whereas the ones who were shunned, who never quite fit in, worked harder on themselves and, in so doing, developed a depth of being, a wisdom, a sense of self that made them much more interesting to talk to at the end of the day.
What would the world be like if we taught our children to always look out for the lonely person, the outcast? To value helpfulness, inclusiveness, kindness.
The mother in the story told me that, in a desperate attempt to help her daughter, she suggested that she fake it and bubble over the way the other girls do when they see each other. Ouch. If we give our kids the message that the be all and end all is social status: cool clothes, feathers in your hair, whatever it is that will give him or her an edge, then we are condoning the type of behavior that will end up destroying us.
My heart goes out to the mothers of girls who are just outside the circle. Because it seems that there are less and less people willing to think beyond the present. Which kind of person do you want your kid to be at the reunion?
No comments:
Post a Comment