Child
Quite a shocking switch of the topics. I feel a bit like a person from the polish anti-lgbt propaganda. For those who don't know, one of the ways polish conservative activists are trying to save the world is a car driving around the city with explicit, disturbing photos and absurd slogans. Something in the line of “Gays are perverting children and teaching them sexual practices at a young age” (of course way more graphic, so everyone will turn to the side of love and acceptance…without gays and other freaks). But not only gays get all that attention: there is a bonus car for abortions. Maybe you'll get lucky and one day you’ll see a car like that driving around your city and shouting obscene things about you. In order to follow proper gay traditions, I’ll talk about children immediately after the exhibitionism. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, maybe those topics are correlated… Who knows?
“From a young age, I liked children”
On the first class of pedagogy, our professor asked us to introduce ourselves and to explain why the heck we are there. After some answers, she quickly noted, that the phrase written above is absurd, but also very misleading.
“Children are people” she continued, “some are unbearable! Illmanered, rude, cruel, lying or just unpleasant. And that’s ok. There are a lot of adults you don’t like, so you don’t have to love children, because you don’t like every person. But what you need to do is don’t allow a kid to notice, that you don’t like them”
That quote might lead us to a different conversation about pedagogy, relationships between teachers/adults and students/children, but I want to focus on the shocking revelation she shared with us: children are people!
Don’t worry, I won’t give you facts about fetuses having a heartbeat or how magical is a development of a child (pre- and post- natal). I mean, it is, but because it’s my blog, I want to talk about something else and use whatever structure of storytelling I want (or lack of it) .
I tend to receive “compliments”, that I'm quite mature for my age. Even as a kid, it was easier for me to establish good contact with adults. Gerontophilia, am I right, ladies? It was a subconscious goal of mine to be strong, rational, responsible, and… Adult. Just be an adult, as a 7, 10, 13, 16-year-old. Now it seems so absurd and hurtful. I wouldn’t call myself an adult now, because I don't think in those categories now. When I get to know people I don't ask about, and overall there is no age-restriction in my search for the connection. I guess because I faced too many exceptions to the rule to even feel the need to follow the narrative of age being a meaningful description of you as a person. The preference for ~older~ hasn’t disappeared, but as I grow older, I get more and more fascinated by the youngest of us.
My worldview of everyone having a magical, sincere and vulnerable being inside gets the most representation in children. I stepped on the teaching road, because of the extreme importance that position holds. I wanted to be a better mentor to future generations, to break the circle of traumatic experiences. But as I learn more, I notice how far apart we are with the same species, just a couple of years younger. The brain can’t understand it’s undeveloped version. So as we grow, the connection with our child counterparts gets thinner and thinner. We repeat the mistakes of our parents when raising our children, we don't understand the rebellion of teenagers, we dismiss the fullness of colors and drama in the children's worldview, we look at babies like at alien creatures. And it’s normal, as I mentioned, it’s a process of evolution, development, so only compassion, education, and empathy can bring us to their world understanding. But it doesn’t mean it’s not sad.
There is an amazing british show on BBC “The secret life of 4,5,6 year olds” (Don't worry you can check it out on YouTube). It’s a reality show, where you have a peek into the dramatic world of kindergarten. The essential part of the show are doctors/professors of child development, who comment on what's going on. Passionate arguments, sincere confessions, being unable to communicate all that you feel or being unable to understand the perspective of other people—those are the snippets of what's depicted there. It's so refreshing, calming, but exciting and funny at the same time. It helps you to empathize with little ones, understand their struggles, but also value their accomplishments. And I think only through empathy and curiosity we can rebuild that connection.
My favourite cartoon.
It’s Bluey, no doubt, it’s Bluey. For any of you, who haven't experienced that masterpiece, you still have a chance to make your heart filled with joy. Australians made a cartoon about the family of dogs, who have their normal human-like life. The focus of the cartoon are simple imaginative games of two sisters, where they learn life’s simple, but nevertheless most important lessons.
And it's not your typical “Dora, the explorer” or “My little Pony” kind of show. It doesn't push any lessons into your face and treats the viewer as a wise being. There is no magic, superheroes or epilepsy-provoking animation, on the contrary—it's as simple as it can get. But that show broke my heart into small pieces and put it all together in a better way. I cry almost every episode, I dance to the into song, I am that weird "adult man" that's obsessed with children's cartoon. Stay with me, I’ll try to explain.
Scene:
Girls (Bluey and Bingo) play with their Mum a simple game—don't let the balloon touch the ground. I actually don't remember what this episode's about, but the smallest detail caught my attention and made me talk about it for months to everyone I know.
During the game they turned over a potted plant, and mum, without stopping the game, quickly puts it back up. The action didn't stop, it wasn't even the main focus of the scene, you can easily miss this bit. But it still makes me cry, as I'm writing this at an onko-clinic.
This show is amazing at portraying healthy family practices, clear and loving communication, and diversity of experiences of other families. The subtle details make my inner child so seen, sad, and a bit envious, but at the same time it proposes the healing path, a healthy example how that little thing can be handled. This show make me so joyous and hopeful for the relationships I have and will have. The simple truths presented by the show are speaking to me like nothing did.
I can talk for hours about the genius of this children's program. And I intentionally didn't put quotation marks there. This show is only for children to enjoy, only they can get it. You don’t have to be under 18, but you have to be a child, and when I watch the show, it comes out to watch it through my slightly grown up eyes. Everyone, I guess have heard the expression about an inner child. When we show unfiltered emotions, present weakness and vulnerability, we stand ‘like a child’ in front of someone. When we are happy, very happy, we clap our hands and laugh, when we make stupid jokes and just want candy, we are losing the armor of the years. It’s unbearable to be ‘an adult’ if you restrain yourself, like most of us do, so you have to let yourself free at least for some time.
I guess the reason I started writing about this is very clear… at least in my head. I wrote about shame, how it paralyzes and corrupts our lives, the key to liberation from this is exhibitionism, the unapologetic presentation of your nature. And what nature? Kids. We are just kids: scared, eager to love and be loved, to hug everyone we see, to have a great time, to feel safe, have a nap during the day and to wear funny clothes.
As I see my surroundings change with time, friends thinking about ‘providing for the family’, I feel the unbearable loneliness inside, I feel the little kid, myself, crying not understanding what’s going on. Why this world full of excitement, challenges, and possibilities suddenly became a matrix. Why can’t I just come up and say: “Hello, would you like to be my friend?” Why can’t I cry about the mistake in a drawing I make, why can’t I wear socks with sandals, pink skirt and a tiara? Why am I doing all of it, if I… if I…if all of this isn’t done by myself. The kid I am, is sitting inside prisoned by the ‘armour’, unable to play, to laugh, to feel, to be. Do what’s actually living is a soulless golem of adulthood.
So… I guess the only proper thing to do is to free them. Find a place, people who will be nurturing and careful, but most importantly, find courage and acceptance in yourself to undress that child inside of you (DAAAMN. The metaphors are ruthless. Take the armour down, that paralyzes them, not stripping the children, you dirty bastards). Let them free, let them be, listen to what they have to say, to cry about, let them do what they want, to play around, experiment and make mistakes. Let them act through you, see the beauty in the world through your eyes, feel the love through your heart. I’m sure you can take care of them, and you will be responsible as a lot of us are quite good at preserving the most vulnerable.
I don't see a point in living, if that kid isn't free, isn't happy, isn't living, just surviving. So I’ll try my best to make their life as interesting and colourful as I can. I'll try my best to give them the best life they deserve. They will live to the fullest, they will be happy, so I'll be happy. I will live to the fullest, I will experiment, love, cry, laugh. I'll make mistakes, go on adventures, take a nap and walk around in a pretty dress with a tiara or socks and sandals, or both. Because we can.
“From a young age, I liked children”
On the first class of pedagogy, our professor asked us to introduce ourselves and to explain why the heck we are there. After some answers, she quickly noted, that the phrase written above is absurd, but also very misleading.
“Children are people” she continued, “some are unbearable! Illmanered, rude, cruel, lying or just unpleasant. And that’s ok. There are a lot of adults you don’t like, so you don’t have to love children, because you don’t like every person. But what you need to do is don’t allow a kid to notice, that you don’t like them”
That quote might lead us to a different conversation about pedagogy, relationships between teachers/adults and students/children, but I want to focus on the shocking revelation she shared with us: children are people!
Don’t worry, I won’t give you facts about fetuses having a heartbeat or how magical is a development of a child (pre- and post- natal). I mean, it is, but because it’s my blog, I want to talk about something else and use whatever structure of storytelling I want (or lack of it) .
I tend to receive “compliments”, that I'm quite mature for my age. Even as a kid, it was easier for me to establish good contact with adults. Gerontophilia, am I right, ladies? It was a subconscious goal of mine to be strong, rational, responsible, and… Adult. Just be an adult, as a 7, 10, 13, 16-year-old. Now it seems so absurd and hurtful. I wouldn’t call myself an adult now, because I don't think in those categories now. When I get to know people I don't ask about, and overall there is no age-restriction in my search for the connection. I guess because I faced too many exceptions to the rule to even feel the need to follow the narrative of age being a meaningful description of you as a person. The preference for ~older~ hasn’t disappeared, but as I grow older, I get more and more fascinated by the youngest of us.
My worldview of everyone having a magical, sincere and vulnerable being inside gets the most representation in children. I stepped on the teaching road, because of the extreme importance that position holds. I wanted to be a better mentor to future generations, to break the circle of traumatic experiences. But as I learn more, I notice how far apart we are with the same species, just a couple of years younger. The brain can’t understand it’s undeveloped version. So as we grow, the connection with our child counterparts gets thinner and thinner. We repeat the mistakes of our parents when raising our children, we don't understand the rebellion of teenagers, we dismiss the fullness of colors and drama in the children's worldview, we look at babies like at alien creatures. And it’s normal, as I mentioned, it’s a process of evolution, development, so only compassion, education, and empathy can bring us to their world understanding. But it doesn’t mean it’s not sad.
There is an amazing british show on BBC “The secret life of 4,5,6 year olds” (Don't worry you can check it out on YouTube). It’s a reality show, where you have a peek into the dramatic world of kindergarten. The essential part of the show are doctors/professors of child development, who comment on what's going on. Passionate arguments, sincere confessions, being unable to communicate all that you feel or being unable to understand the perspective of other people—those are the snippets of what's depicted there. It's so refreshing, calming, but exciting and funny at the same time. It helps you to empathize with little ones, understand their struggles, but also value their accomplishments. And I think only through empathy and curiosity we can rebuild that connection.
My favourite cartoon.
It’s Bluey, no doubt, it’s Bluey. For any of you, who haven't experienced that masterpiece, you still have a chance to make your heart filled with joy. Australians made a cartoon about the family of dogs, who have their normal human-like life. The focus of the cartoon are simple imaginative games of two sisters, where they learn life’s simple, but nevertheless most important lessons.
And it's not your typical “Dora, the explorer” or “My little Pony” kind of show. It doesn't push any lessons into your face and treats the viewer as a wise being. There is no magic, superheroes or epilepsy-provoking animation, on the contrary—it's as simple as it can get. But that show broke my heart into small pieces and put it all together in a better way. I cry almost every episode, I dance to the into song, I am that weird "adult man" that's obsessed with children's cartoon. Stay with me, I’ll try to explain.
Scene:
Girls (Bluey and Bingo) play with their Mum a simple game—don't let the balloon touch the ground. I actually don't remember what this episode's about, but the smallest detail caught my attention and made me talk about it for months to everyone I know.
During the game they turned over a potted plant, and mum, without stopping the game, quickly puts it back up. The action didn't stop, it wasn't even the main focus of the scene, you can easily miss this bit. But it still makes me cry, as I'm writing this at an onko-clinic.
This show is amazing at portraying healthy family practices, clear and loving communication, and diversity of experiences of other families. The subtle details make my inner child so seen, sad, and a bit envious, but at the same time it proposes the healing path, a healthy example how that little thing can be handled. This show make me so joyous and hopeful for the relationships I have and will have. The simple truths presented by the show are speaking to me like nothing did.
I can talk for hours about the genius of this children's program. And I intentionally didn't put quotation marks there. This show is only for children to enjoy, only they can get it. You don’t have to be under 18, but you have to be a child, and when I watch the show, it comes out to watch it through my slightly grown up eyes. Everyone, I guess have heard the expression about an inner child. When we show unfiltered emotions, present weakness and vulnerability, we stand ‘like a child’ in front of someone. When we are happy, very happy, we clap our hands and laugh, when we make stupid jokes and just want candy, we are losing the armor of the years. It’s unbearable to be ‘an adult’ if you restrain yourself, like most of us do, so you have to let yourself free at least for some time.
I guess the reason I started writing about this is very clear… at least in my head. I wrote about shame, how it paralyzes and corrupts our lives, the key to liberation from this is exhibitionism, the unapologetic presentation of your nature. And what nature? Kids. We are just kids: scared, eager to love and be loved, to hug everyone we see, to have a great time, to feel safe, have a nap during the day and to wear funny clothes.
As I see my surroundings change with time, friends thinking about ‘providing for the family’, I feel the unbearable loneliness inside, I feel the little kid, myself, crying not understanding what’s going on. Why this world full of excitement, challenges, and possibilities suddenly became a matrix. Why can’t I just come up and say: “Hello, would you like to be my friend?” Why can’t I cry about the mistake in a drawing I make, why can’t I wear socks with sandals, pink skirt and a tiara? Why am I doing all of it, if I… if I…if all of this isn’t done by myself. The kid I am, is sitting inside prisoned by the ‘armour’, unable to play, to laugh, to feel, to be. Do what’s actually living is a soulless golem of adulthood.
So… I guess the only proper thing to do is to free them. Find a place, people who will be nurturing and careful, but most importantly, find courage and acceptance in yourself to undress that child inside of you (DAAAMN. The metaphors are ruthless. Take the armour down, that paralyzes them, not stripping the children, you dirty bastards). Let them free, let them be, listen to what they have to say, to cry about, let them do what they want, to play around, experiment and make mistakes. Let them act through you, see the beauty in the world through your eyes, feel the love through your heart. I’m sure you can take care of them, and you will be responsible as a lot of us are quite good at preserving the most vulnerable.
I don't see a point in living, if that kid isn't free, isn't happy, isn't living, just surviving. So I’ll try my best to make their life as interesting and colourful as I can. I'll try my best to give them the best life they deserve. They will live to the fullest, they will be happy, so I'll be happy. I will live to the fullest, I will experiment, love, cry, laugh. I'll make mistakes, go on adventures, take a nap and walk around in a pretty dress with a tiara or socks and sandals, or both. Because we can.
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