Littluns
“[The boys] found themselves eager to take a place in this demented but partly secure society. They were glad to touch the brown backs of the fence that hemmed in the terror [of the makeshift beast] and made it governable.”
“‘Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!’”
-William Golding, Lord of the Flies
Picture this: a hectic classroom full of children with an 11 month age spread between the oldest and youngest. They are all at different stages of development, the youngest are still mouthing toys and crying for mommy at the smallest upset, the eldest are beginning to enter a new stage of conceptualization: the world verbal manipulation. On one side of the room, the youngest child topples from a chair in an uncoordinated heap and immediately sets up a foghorn cry for “moooooommiiieeeee,” while on the other side of the room I catch this snippet of conversation between the two oldest kids in the class:
Kid 1 won’t share so Kid 2 says, “Well, you know what? I’m gonna punch you in the face and you can’t come to my house or play with the real knights.”
It shocks me.
I’ve known these kids for half of their short little lives. I met some of them before they could walk or talk. They’ve cried in my arms, peed on my leg; most of them have accidentally called me “Mommy” in haste. And lately, and I know this must sound incredibly naive, I’ve been repulsed by the blooms of hostility I see evolving in the older (epsecially male) children.
Just the other day, three of the boys were walking around in their recently developed little clique and the bossiest, mouthiest of the three chose their target, a 4th little boy who is often an early morning playmate to the individual boys, until the other clique members arrive. The three boys grouped up and came over to the odd man out (let’s call him Obi) who was sitting next to me, harmlessly rolling around on a big firetruck.
The mouthy boy pointed at Obi and said, “We don’t like him, right guys?”
The other two boys looked dubious but nodded and mumbled, “yeah.”
The three walked away, the mouth trumpeting the whole time, “We won’t play with Obi, right guys? He’s…he’s…not who we play with. We don’t like Obi.”
In the meantime, Obi, a very quiet, very sensitive boy who is only just starting to branch out and attempt friendships and group play, looked up at me with sad, confused eyes and said, “I don’t want to talk to anyone, I just want to talk to you.” Then he smiled and climbed into my lap.
My heart melted and hurt at the same time. There’s a mob mentality errant in this age group that I’m beginning to detest. It manifests itself in different ways. Right now it is mostly chanting or singing or something similar to that. The girls are especially adept at forming little roving groups of four or five that travel around the room and occasionally come to a pause on the stage in the front of the room. They sing or chant some nonsense words (for a while it was something that sounded like “ace ace da wanna” but now it usually takes the form of Baa Baa Blacksheep or the ABC’s), increasing in volume and intensity until a teacher yells above the clamor and reminds them to use indoor voices. Then, like a ragtag bunch of gypsies (or those guys that run around with the tanks of nitrous in the parking lot at a Phish concert) they haul stakes and continue on their pan-classroom excursion. Then there’s the salutatory bandwagoneering. I work from 8-4 every day. This means I leave right after all the kids are seated for afternoon snack, and every day at least one kids sees me leaving and shouts, “Byyyyye Koooorieeeee!”
And blammo! Eighteen kids all look up and start shouting, “Byeeeeee, byeeeeee, byeeeee!” all at the same time. It would be sweet if they were sincerely saying goodbye, but all it is is an excuse to join the mob.
All of this has been getting increasingly irritating as the kids get older, but the recent switch from harmless chanting to singling out and bullying is what truly depresses me. What exactly are we teaching our children, that they are learning to antagonize their fellow man at such a young age? Is this a trait inherent to our species? Or just our culture? Why don’t we notice the sources of this in the context of our own lives? Are we so indoctrinated with societal norms that we don’t even realize the direction in which we guide even our youngest minds? I wish I had the answers to these questions. I wish I knew a way to counteract whatever it is that is turning my little kiddies into big boogers. I wish I knew a way to keep things harmless and happy and pure. But I take some solace in the moments of sweetness that I can bring home at the end of the day.
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great post. I think it is so important to look at how we are raising our boys and what their influences are and what we think is appropriate just because they are “boys”. As if they are off the hook from everything.
There is way too much violence and sexism that goes unnoticed in movies and tv. We have to teach them respect for themselves and others.
great post.
I’m back because I needed to read this again. Find myself thinking about it a lot. Really great post.
from a really great perspective.
should I sign in as a different name or just keep commenting as myself? HA!