Through the Eyes of a Child
By Sandra Couts

In her excitement to tell what happened to her new puppy, four year old Allie knocks her plate of food on the floor. Across the table from her, Steve, her father gruffly yells “Now looks what you have done”. Tears stream down Allie’s face as she wonders why her father is scolding her. She knows she has done something wrong but she does not understand what it is. From her eyes, she was simply sharing her joy about her puppy.  From her father’s eyes, she made a mess. Had Steve seen the situation through the eyes of a child, he would have responded differently-in a way that would have been caring and understanding.  

 Can you recall a situation in your childhood that you wish an adult had responded through your eyes? Some people, in their desire to reach adulthood, toss aside their childhood, forgetting what it means to be a child. Soon, their connection with children is seen only through adult lens.  They forget that children are naturally innocent, sensitive, and eager to please. Each time you take the time to see a situation or an interaction through the eyes of the child, you support children in gaining confidence to learn from their mistakes and to express their emotions in a balanced way.

The following suggestions support you in remembering what it feels like to be a child so you can interact with children from a supportive, respectful and loving stance.

• Talk with children eye to eye-even if that means sitting on the floor, kneeling or sitting in a chair across from them. This small gesture allows you to focus on what is being said.
• Use a normal tone of voice when making requests. This promotes collaborative interactions.
• Give children choices-no matter how big or small. This supports independent and creative thinking.
• Provide ways to express their feelings about an emotionally charged situation such as coloring, drawing pictures or telling a story to express their feelings. This enables you to see the situation from their eyes.
• Give children your full attention by focusing on them when they are talking. Focused attention acknowledges children in a respectful way, giving them the message that their presence is valuable.
•  Seeing the world through the eyes of a child empowers you and them.

The Voice Within
By Jennifer MacLellan

Dear Mom and Dad,

I love you both so much and am so grateful for all that you have done for me in the seventeen years since I was born. You have provided me with many opportunities to succeed in this competitive world and so it is with some sadness that I write this letter to you, as I feel that what I have to say will disappoint you. However, I know with all of my heart that if I don’t voice what is churning inside, I will be letting myself down as well.

I am writing this letter amidst a mountain of university applications scattered in my room. I sit here, trying to muster up even an ounce of enthusiasm, but my heart is not in it and inevitably each application drifts back to its pile, unwanted and under-appreciated.

I thought Grade 12 was going to be “The Year,” the year when everything changed for me. I hear my friends excitedly planning their futures. To them, they see themselves inching towards a freedom of sorts, so close within their grasp. To me, I see another mile of chink added to my already tight chain, keeping me from going anywhere I have dreamed.  Instead of seeing my immediate future as one with many options, I see it as one that will be carefully managed by you, my well-meaning parents, whose plans for me do not resonate with what I want.

I don’t want to go to university, you see, but you can’t accept that. I love to write and know that while this career path has never been part of your plan for me, I would like to be able to explore whether or not I have what it takes. You see me as an impractical daydreamer; I’ve heard you tell our relatives and your friends that I am lazy and unmotivated, and in many ways you are right. I am unmotivated to study algebra or calculus because I find words more fascinating than numbers. I am unmotivated to learn about chemical formulas because I see myself with a pen rather than a beaker in my hand.

I would love to continue to learn how to write after high school graduation. I’ve asked, begged even, to go to college for a two-year writing program, but college is unacceptable to you. My tuition will be paid for if I choose a school that you approve of. If not, I’m on my own, a hostage of sorts to your academic demands. What would people say if they knew your daughter was attending a community college, and not a reputable university? Oh, the shame you’d feel knowing that your “friends” are discussing what a failure your daughter is, a daughter who is not quite making the grade.

Yes, I know one of your friend’s daughters has been offered early admission to two of her top choice universities and that another friend’s son is getting straight A’s. I know you believe it is motivating for me to hear these stories. But let me say to you that it is not. In fact, I’ve spent the better part of my academic life hearing the message that I just do not measure up.  Do you think that I am unaware of the fact that I am pretty much a “B” student?  My “A” in English doesn’t count for much when every one of your friends’ children, according to you, is getting A’s in math and science.

You have provided me with every opportunity a child could have. I have had teachers in music, dance, languages, art and sports. In grade five, when I grew weary of the hours I had to spend practicing piano pieces and dance routines that had long ceased to interest me, I asked if I could drop one of the activities. You refused, telling me that every experience, every skill would look good on my résumé. Do you think a résumé  means anything to a ten-year-old? I allowed myself to feel guilty each time you said what a waste of money it would be if I quit after all the money you put towards my training. All the time I wondered why you didn’t put the money towards your own dance or music lessons since you showed such a passionate interest in mine.

I know you have envisioned your little girl as a doctor, a judge, a lawyer or a businesswoman. I can hear the excitement in your voice every time you talk to me about the life I could have, but have you ever stopped to hear my voice? Did you miss my defiant words, the fights, and the tears that poured out each time you carried on with your master plan for me, the one for which I have had very little input? Have you stopped to hear what I want? Yes, I know a university education will assist me in achieving a job in the future, helping to ensure financial security and my independence. However, in your dreams for me, I have never seen myself with a stethoscope hanging around my neck or a gavel in my hand. Instead, I see myself working in a quiet room, overlooking the ocean or a quiet stream, writing several hours a day. I envision my books being read by thousands of people, amused, moved and even enlightened by what I have to say. I want to find something that I love doing so that I don’t come home each day, complaining about my uninspiring work or my undervalued efforts. I want to be inspired on a daily basis by doing work that is meaningful to me and helpful to others.

Please allow me to explore who I am and find what is true for me. You have tried so hard to protect me and guide me and I thank you for that protection and guidance, but I ask you to let me take risks and get to know myself. You love me. I don’t doubt that for a second, but please let go of the fear that you may have by my venturing out on my own. Permit me to create the life that I feel resonates with who I am. You have had the chance to walk on the path you’ve created for yourselves; I ask you to please let me carve my own.

Always with love,
Your daughter