When your child is living in the vacuum that you create, focused completely on you and your teachings, kind of like a satellite orbiting the sun, your job is easy. You teach them the usual things -- how to sing the ABCs, how to hold a spoon, and how to touch pinky to thumb to pinky to thumb while singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider." Because your child is a sponge, she picks all of this up rather easily, and you start feeling cocky. You're a brilliant teacher, your child is an eager learner, and all is good in the world. In education circles we call this direct instruction. You teach and the student learns.
Unfortunately for almost everyone involved, your child doesn't know when she should stop learning. Soon you notice that your daughter pumps her fist exactly the way you do when Derek Jeter laces a single to right field. This is funny. Later you hear her say "Jesus Christ!" when she has trouble finding her teddy bear. This is even funnier.
Even though these aren't necessarily the things you want her to learn -- except for the Derek Jeter fist pump, which every child should know -- at least you know where it's all coming from. The real troubling moments, though, come when you first notice the things your child has learned from outside the vacuum, and we're not talking about states and capitals.
I no longer remember the earliest examples of Kate's "external instruction," but they've been coming fast and furious since she started pre-school this past September. When she saw me after school today, for example, she raced over to me, clearly excited to share something. "Daddy, Daddy!" She then paused for dramatic effect before announcing, "Close the gate -- who do you hate?" And then she smiled as if she had cured the common cold.
I don't know where this little nugget came from -- in fact, I don't even know what it means -- but I know it did not come from her usual orbit. Even though she is not yet four years old, she has a level of independence that I never would've thought possible before becoming a parent. I can't say that I'm bothered by her little rhyme, but I'm not excited about what it represents. We can teach her to say please and thank you, we can show her how to share, and we can hope that she grows up to eat her vegetables and floss her teeth, but the reality is that most of what she learns will not come from us.
So as she circles our sun, gradually widening her orbit with each passing year and playing Major Tom to our Ground Control, we can comfort ourselves with the idea that she won't be heading off to new galaxies for at least another decade and a half. Which of course will speed by in the blink of an eye.
Just wanted to say how much I'm enjoying the 30 days of posts - I've got a 3 yr girl & 1 yr boy so it's a great look into the crystal ball of the future. Keep up the good work!
Posted by: jdj | March 19, 2009 at 07:35 PM