Interrupting a Talker is not only impolite; it could lead to totally-erroneous information. Just this morning, I nearly interrupted my senior friend’s sentence. She was telling about her having recently taken some drug. She told how it had “helped her get pr–…”
Immediately I knew — or thought I knew — what she was about to say, and it was a slightly impish thought at that. And how badly I wanted to interrupt with an all-important-to-me thought on where her sentence sounded like it was heading.
But, no. I kept my listening ears politely tuned, all the while thinking about what Great Interrupters we adults are.
Yes. Take a moment and listen to two adults in conversation. It’s shocking the number of times Great Interrupters act totally oblivious to the fact that someone else is holding the Talking Stick.
Yet, we expect far-different behavior from children. We teach and preach; we jabber and clabber about the necessity of not interrupting others.
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Every child understands the power of language to make things happen. For years now, I’ve measured the success of my poems and songs for kids by how much they say “More!” or “Do it again!” after listening.
I call such poems and songs “desserts,” because kids like them enough to ask for more, and just as excitedly as they might ask for more cake or ice cream––or more blueberries.
A case in point: My neighbor Uriel, a delightful 18-month-old who’s learning three languages. I saw him and his mama recently while I was power-walking in the neighborhood. I learned that Uriel had recently discovered, at a party, that he could get the adults around him to give him all the blueberries he wanted, just by saying “More!”
As his mama and I were talking, I could see that little Uriel was listening. And his eyes were fixated on my mouth. He was putting much study into my every word and facial expression. He was looking for familiar words . . . looking for meaning behind those words. Young children are truly language sponges.
His mama stops now to recite and act out with him a poem she’s written. In English. He giggles and wiggles to all that familiarity.
I looked forward to visiting my students in their homes. Whether visiting 5th graders or special needs students, I usually made at least two visits to each child’s home during a school year.
Interacting with my students on their home turfs offered new and different insights. Generally, my goals were the same: I’d share classroom news and get to put names with some faces I rarely saw during parent-conference week. I’d also spend a few minutes extolling the virtues of reading aloud every day. But, home visits with students one year posed a glaring reality.
One day, I’d visited five students and had not seen a single book, magazine, or newspaper. This meant I was wasting folks’ time with all my talk about reading aloud. Reading of any kind would not be happening in those homes.
Many of my children’s families could scarcely afford food and clothing. Yet, I was marching in there with the expectation, the exhortation, that they should be reading to their kids every day.
In truth, I realized how little I had done to facilitate reading aloud at home. Later that day, another troubling thought came to mind as I looked around our classroom.
It’s the first day of school. And within the first ten minutes, I know who my leaders are in this class. How do I know that?
First of all, I’m the teacher. I’m watching. I’m listening.
Secondly, my class leaders are already leading…with their mouths. They’re leading the other kids…in a positive direction or a not-so-positive direction. But they are leading.
Kids are using language to lead. They’re trying hard to be convincing. They want others to follow them. And the more powerful their vocabulary and knowledge, the more convincing they are to the other kids.
Yes, it’s that simple. And it’s that obvious.
This is a letter I had published in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. I shared it with some teacher friends in CA and TX, and lo and behold, their principals and/or superintendents thought it was so powerful that they copied and sent it home with every one of their students:
To change a child’s life, speak 5 words
It all began when I entered ninth grade. The counselor looked at my good grades and asked where I was going to college. College? No one had ever asked that question. I had no money. Besides, I had holes in my socks.
That day, I took on a new goal. If my counselor thought I was going to college. . . . If she thought . . . , then maybe I could. Maybe I would.
As a parent, children’s author and education consultant, I need to pass on what my counselor taught me. I have shared what I know with thousands of educators and parents around the country. But there are thousands, millions of you out there whom I expect I will never meet. So could you just give me a moment.
Wigglers and gigglers danced through the door. Babies to Eight’s kept asking for more. A tale of a bridge? A lining-up rhyme? A fraidy-dog poem? ‘Twas Kids’ Café™ time!
My Starbucks event last week prompted a delightful email from the mom of a 7-year-old.
She wrote, “As for reading, he has been reluctant lately.” So reluctant, she added, that his tutor suggested they focus on phonics. “So I was glad,” she said, “to pick up your book [More] Phonics through Poetry, and asked him to read just one poem to me on the ride home.”
“He read one,” she wrote, “and, though he stumbled over a few words, was eager to read it through again because it was funny once he had the words straight. THEN, he said, ‘How about I read another one?’ !! ”
I tell because kids ask. They ask why. They want to know how. And where. And when. And how long it takes. So I answer their questions. With one story after another.
It all began in my garage…this story about my work as a stripper. My kids came running in, their friends in tow. My nine-year-old son stopped short when he saw me. At work.
“Aw, Mom!” he exclaimed. “You’re embarrassing us!”
Ouch! No mom wants to embarrass her kids.
“Mom?” my son whispered now as he inched past me and the upturned dresser that balanced precariously atop saw horses. Struggling to reach sports equipment behind me, his words, though aimed my way, were barely audible. “Mom? Jeez. Don’t you know you’re a mess?” A rhetorical question, obviously. He’d already steered his sis and friends toward the door.
Jonathan
My spouse and two grown children are all-the-time asking for autographed copies of my books they want to give to friends. Or to a special someone they’ve met during life’s daily journeys.
One such request came recently. My Jerry asked me to sign an age-appropriate book for four-year-old Jonathan, Kelly’s son. Kelly, he said, is Shift Supervisor, Coffee Master, and Community Lead at one of Jerry’s favorite Starbucks stores near our home.
A couple of weeks later, Jerry and I were having coffee. He saw Kelly and promptly introduced us. Kelly proudly shared how my book The Bridge is Up! had become a favorite of Jonathan’s. She went on to tell how she’d read it so many times that she and Jonathan had learned most of the words. WOW!
I asked Kelly to take her hand and reach around to the back of her shoulder. Wearing a puzzled look, she proceeded to do as asked. I went on to ask her to pat herself on the back.
Oh, my! Oh, my! What kind of shy?
As discussed in these articles on suite101.com and keepkidshealthy.com, there are varied reasons for shyness in children. Feeling shy can and does present limitations for a child. I want to address one kind of shyness that I encounter frequently when I first greet a young child who’s accompanied by a parent or caregiver.
The child sends all kinds of smiles my way as our eyes meet. All kinds of smiles because kids quickly pick up on my giving them attention…as in recognition and respect.
I see those eyes and smiles responding positively to my expectation that we will connect verbally. Eye contact and smiles, that is, until their adult voices a different expectation, “Oh, he’s shy.”
Now, that little face darts behind the parent’s leg. I can almost see the child’s thinking: Gotta be shy ‘cause that’s what my (mom/dad/accompanying adult) expects.
Rylan & Ryder
There I was this week in the dental hygienist’s chair…and reminded of fun days as a nanny while in college. My three-year-old charge couldn’t say her sister Karen’s name. A precocious one, she loved saying, “I don’t care!” She also loved tricks, giggles, and being my echo.
So I asked little Alison to echo me as I said, “I don’t care!” several times. Then, I tricked her and said, “I don’t Karen.” Well, she echoed my sentence perfectly. She giggled and wiggled and jiggled all over with excitement.
“I said it!” she bubbled.
And, in big-sisterly fashion, Karen good-heartedly answered to “I-don’t-Karen” for a time.
