As children, time seems to stretch endlessly. Do you recall the sensation of gently removing the paper from a crayon? How about the delightful scent of playdough? I have vivid memories of a toy circus I played with after Christmas—it felt like an eternity, as if a single day could last forever. In truth, it was likely just an hour, but during that time, I was acutely aware of everything around me: the scent of the figures, the roughness of the blue elephant's leg. Everything moved at a leisurely pace, perhaps because children absorb the world so fully. These moments become the building blocks of our lives.
To me, it seems as though God reveals everything through a magnifying glass when we’re young. As we mature, that lens diminishes until it disappears altogether. By the time we hit our teenage years, we start to see the broader picture. I’ve noticed that the eleven-year-olds I work with often struggle to connect the dots. They don’t understand that schoolwork is meant to be completed during class. When the bell rings, they shut their Chromebooks and cheerfully declare they’re done, unaware that they still have homework waiting for them at home. The moment they close their math books, it’s as if those assignments vanish from their minds until they’re back in class the next day. This disconnect makes it hard for them to grasp how their current efforts—or lack thereof—will impact their grades weeks or even months down the line. They simply can’t see the big picture yet.
Now, at my age, I find it hard to look past the larger context of life, and at times, it overwhelms me. I long for those moments of childlike simplicity. I make time, in which I can forget everything and just immerse myself in coloring, taking my time to appreciate the lines and shadows. It's a challenge to slow down to that pace, but it’s necessary for my mental well-being.
I often ponder why children acquire language so much more effortlessly than adults do. I began learning English at three and entered school in San Diego at six. Initially, I was lost in class but picked up the language quickly, though I can’t quite recall how. I believe it’s because, unlike adults who often translate each word and focus on grammar, children learn by being immersed in their surroundings. A few words suffice, and they fill the gaps by observing the world around them. Watching television helps, as it contextualizes words within real-life situations. With enough exposure, a child will naturally learn the language.
My own experience was smooth, without any significant challenges—just a few hiccups at the start of first grade. It’s like that saying: children are like Jell-O, absorbing everything around them. During their teenage years, they become a bit wobbly, and once those years are over, they solidify into something less malleable. The way we nurture children is vital to our future, and we need to protect them from bullying and the dangers of the internet.
For instance, when children face bullying that culminates in fights being filmed and shared online, the scars can last a lifetime. Such experiences can be devastating, even if they don’t hurt as much in adulthood; the hurt lingers. I wish children weren’t left unattended online. I miss the days when families had just one computer in the living room, where everyone could see the screen, and time was limited to prevent trouble. Nowadays, kids have portable devices that lead to chaos and drama, and some of the things they endure could break an adult.
Furthermore, I hope families wouldn’t be so quick to blame schools and teachers. The upbringing at home plays a crucial role. Schools can only do so much; they strive to protect children as best as they can but have limited visibility into what students are doing with their phones or behind closed doors. This can lead to troubling situations that go unnoticed until they surface online.
On a positive note, I’ve encountered amazing teachers at my school who genuinely care for their students, treating them as if they were their own. They impart lessons beyond academics, teaching kindness, empathy, and patience.
Just yesterday, one teacher guided the children in making Mother's Day cards. When one student mentioned he didn’t want to make a card for his stepmom. Then he said we didn’t want to make one for his mom either. The teacher encouraged him to reconsider. He initially resisted, claiming it was boring, and I chimed in, asking him how many boring things his mom had done for him without complaint. I regretted speaking, when I noticed the change in his demeanor. He looked at me, serious, (not his usual casual smile) and asked me what his mom had done for him. When I stumbled through an answer about her care, I could see he wasn’t convinced; he simply shook his head and declared, “Nothing,” before walking back to his desk.
At that moment, I realized his classroom behavior—his tendency to distract others, despite always saying “yes” and smiling when we ask him to do something—- might stem from a lack of attention at home. If his parents didn’t care about his efforts, why should he?
Often, we become so engrossed in academics that we overlook what happens behind the scenes until something drastic occurs. This boy likely just craves attention. I suspect he struggles with math and possibly reading and writing, given that I rarely see him engaged in class.
In conclusion, as we navigate the complexities of teaching and parenting, we must remember the importance of nurturing our children’s emotional and educational needs so they can thrive in a world that can sometimes feel overwhelming.
Written by Ana
Edited by chat GPT, then edited again by Ana.
