The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.
Denis Waitley
I have my very own psychologist … I feel so grown up. His name is Konrad. I have successfully been seeing him for just over 2.5 years now. ( I’m sure this will come as no real shock to the lucky men who have dated me in the past.)
But, yes, I am happy to report that this is the healthiest, happiest, longest relationship I have ever had with a bona fide man. (See, I absolutely knew it was possible)
The fact that he sees other women, that there is absolutely no sex ( doesn’t bother me, as I am currently saving myself for marriage……I am, I tell you), that I know absolutely nothing about him – other than he has a gorgeous doctor girlfriend ( he didn’t tell me that, of course … my stalking skills have improved considerably with age ) – or the fact that I am paying him … is all utterly and completely irrelevant to the point I am trying to make. I think he is absolutely awesome and I would marry him in a heartbeat if only I could. Sadly for me, there are ‘actual’ ethical laws prohibiting doctor/patient weddings. (Seriously, who makes up these ridiculous laws anyway?)
Nevertheless, I adore him…for one simple reason: he listens. Now I’m not talking about that awful passive listening that almost all psychologists in romantic comedies seem to do. You know, when their client is on the couch and completely oblivious to the fact that said doctor is clipping their toenails or eating their lunch behind their back.
No, he ‘actively’ listens. For one hour a week, I get to have one person totally tuned into me and my needs – and he genuinely seems interested. I have, of course, had a few people rather cynically point out that it’s his job to be ‘ interested and care’. Well, what an awesome job, I say. (But yes, knowing me, I of course still went through a period of obsessing about that.) It’s a pretty natural part of the therapy process….you form this attachment to another person that feels so real to you … It hurts to think that the relationship might not be ‘authentic’. It took a bit of time, but I’m over that now. Quite frankly, if anyone were to assume that – just because I’m paid to work with children – it means that I don’t honestly care about each and every one of them, I would feel highly insulted. As far as I am concerned my job is, first and foremost, about caring. The teaching is secondary and flows from that. Such is the case for many professions, therapy being one of them.
So why do I need a shrink? Oh, I have so many varied reasons. No doubt I will get around to listing them all chronologically at some point or another but, for today, let us just focus on one. I love to talk. I can talk the hind legs of two donkeys, given half the chance. I have learned this about my talking these last two years: When I am happy and completely comfortable with another person, I talk. When I am feeling nervous and completely ill at ease around another person, I … uhm…..talk.
I guess I have what you might describe as verbal bulimia that is subsequently followed by excess amounts of guilt – tremendously more so when it’s with people with whom I don’t feel comfortable. (Honestly, Gayle, did you really just tell that person all that about yourself?) In psychology terms, this would equate to boundaries – or my apparent lack of them, at times.
I will never forget seeing a therapist in London a couple of years ago. I think I went to her for about 6 weeks. I successfully managed to maintain my excessive chitchat for the entire duration of those 6 weeks. (Pretty impressive I think.) She barely said a word. Seriously, she never even used to ask a basic opening question, like….uhm, I dunno, off the top of my head: ‘How are you? ‘ So, I did what I do well…I just filled in the space. After a while, I started to feel angry and resentful as hell. I was paying her all this money and she said nothing?
So, one day I turned up and, in silent protest, I said nothing. Well, not true. I actually said: ‘I don’t know what to say.” Her response was, “Well I don’t know what to say either, Gayle. This is your session.” And so we so we sat in a stalemate silence for what felt like 45 minutes. (But it was probably more like 45 seconds.) And then l just couldn’t bear it anymore and I launched into more stories about my life. (drama, drama, drama…..who was I kidding….I always have something to say….but that wasn’t my point) Needless to say, I didn’t stay with her much longer after that. Highly rehearsed in the art of saying everything, yet shamefully unaccustomed to actually saying what was really on my mind, I turned up a few weeks later declaring that I was cured. (It was a sheer miracle I tell you.) She didn’t seem convinced but she didn’t say much (no surprise there) and so I left. Sadly, at that point, I didn’t even realise that I was simply running away from an uncomfortable situation that I could not yet verbalise.
Fast forward 7 years and I had an almost identical situation with Konrad. Except for this time it was about 6 months of me talking non-stop before I eventually hit that wall. (He always has the decency to ask me how my week has been going.) On declaring that I no longer knew what to say, he simply said: ‘You aren’t comfortable with silence are you?’ It hit me like a ton of bricks…..um no…….quietness ….yuk…I hate it.
And that random story illustrates the difference between a good therapist and a kak one: insight and the ability to very gently push the boundaries of your own awareness. I have an absolutely lovely 83-year-old friend that once asked me what advice Konrad gives me. Bless…he seemed almost appalled to hear that Konrad very rarely gives me any sort of advice. Shortly after that, I am ashamed to admit I even yelled at Konrad about this. ‘Why don’t you ever tell me what to do, dammit!’ He just smiled. (Sometimes I really think he should be paying me comic relief fees. He does that a lot with me – the patience of a saint, I tell you)
In 2009 I qualified as a life coach practitioner in London. I started studying it pretty soon after the whole “Amygate” experience that I wrote about in the previous post. I was on a quest to find a stronger, healthier and happier me! I love telling people that I am a qualified life coach. (It sounds so dignified- doesn’t it? ) Of course, I leave out the fact that I have never had an actual paying client before. That said, becoming a life coach has to be one of the absolute best things I have ever done for myself. It was my first huge step in taking charge of my life. I genuinely thought that, if I could somehow learn how to help other people be happier and more balanced, then just maybe I would accidentally/quite on purpose be able to teach myself?
I think ultimately the greatest thing I learnt from that experience is this: “Every single one of us has the answers to our lives inside us. Sometimes all people need is the space and encouragement to find those answers themselves.”
I love that. I absolutely, unequivocally love that. Good life coaching is not about fixing people’s problems or providing them with the answers or solutions they need for their life. It’s about learning to ask the right questions that encourage them to ultimately find their own solutions. So, essentially, my lesson on this actually began 5 years ago, but it has been greatly cemented these last couple of years in therapy. For me, having that space to just be myself without all the ‘static’ of other people’s opinions and perspectives influencing me all the time has given me the tools to be a stronger, more resilient me. It has given me the much needed ‘quietness’ to figure out what my own opinions and perspectives actually are – and then the strength to start living by them.
Subsequently, I have found that I have carried a lot of what I have learnt over these last few years into my teaching work. I try to give my pupils a safe space to just be. I try to keep them laughing and I desperately try not to play the ‘Ms Fix-it’ role every time they are hurt or upset.
But I have to admit, at times, it is incredibly hard.
I remember becoming acutely aware of just how hard it was whenever I was on playground duty in London. I absolutely hated playground duty. For me, it literally meant 30 minutes of distraught, frustrated, angry or heartbroken little kids bombarding me with all their little mini-dramas. Hundreds of ‘he said/she said’ tales unfolding every couple of minutes. (Of course I always wanted to help, I am after all a dedicated and caring teacher you know.) Plus I admit it – I was an absolute sucker for kiddie tears … (Never underestimate a child’s ability to suss out the weakest link in the playground and then go in for the kill.) So, yes, my natural response has always been to jump in the middle, try to play mediator and to restore the peace. Naively, I felt that this was my job as a teacher and as an adult – to help these little beings to learn how to live peaceful, harmonious little lives. Surely, if I could just make them see reason, then they will stop the performing? The truth of the matter is that most children – like most adults – when they are in the throes of an emotional drama, are not the least bit interested in seeing reason. Not yours and not anybody else’s.
I have since changed my opinion on this matter quite a bit. Quite simply, I have started to have more faith in children. I have started to believe that they are innately capable and strong enough to deal with, and sort out, most of their own issues. I have come to appreciate that it is not my job to wade in and solve every little ruction for them. It is not my job to rescue them from anyone else or fight their battles for them. And it is most certainly not my job to gather all the evidence and then play judge and jury for them. I get it now. I really do. Quite frankly, my job is to simply butt out, give them space and trust that they can sort things out themselves (mostly;-). Phew, what a complete and utter relief! Why were we never taught this at university? (For the record, I would like to state that I am most definitely not talking about continual, habitual bullying here. There are most definitely some cases that do warrant more active involvement and support for kids.)
So, after having worked hard at defining what my job is ‘not’, I have also had to consequently redefine what my job ‘is’.
And this is what I have come up with:
• Undeniably, first and foremost, my job is to teach by example. Hard fact: I absolutely cannot expect my pupils to learn how to control and regulate their emotions if I can’t do the same. Ranting and raving irrefutably does not work. I speak from experience … I am ashamed to say it took me 5 long years to learn that hard lesson when I started teaching. Sadly, there are millions of teachers worldwide that have yet to learn this lesson. Happily, there are also millions that already have. Indeed, I may be a stark raving lunatic away from the kids (should I so desire, of course) but at school, I am constantly aware that hundreds of little eyes are always watching and learning. Author Robert Fulghum once said, ‘Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.’ Indeed these are words I try to live by daily.
• It is my job to validate what they are feeling, even if I don’t quite understand it. I try not to tell them what they should or should not be feeling because, quite frankly, I am not them and I have no jurisdiction whatsoever over their feelings.
• I have come to appreciate the extreme importance of fostering emotional intelligence in children. Emotions aren’t always as simple as being just “happy” or “sad.” Emotions can, at times, be extremely diverse and complex. 
Not actually understanding what they themselves are actually feeling often makes children feel even more frustrated and alone. Often I feel children are judged so harshly for not being more ‘aware’ of how other children are feeling. Unfortunately, if they haven’t learnt the skill of understanding or mastering their own emotions, then is it any wonder that they lack the empathy and consideration needed to understand others?
Not actually understanding what they themselves are actually feeling often makes children feel even more frustrated and alone. Often I feel children are judged so harshly for not being more ‘aware’ of how other children are feeling. Unfortunately, if they haven’t learnt the skill of understanding or mastering their own emotions, then is it any wonder that they lack the empathy and consideration needed to understand others? • And lastly, I don’t buy into, or feed, their drama. I simply try to remind them that they are strong and capable enough to solve this problem themselves. Unfortunately, life is filled with difficult situations and ‘pains in the arse’ of varying degrees.
More than anything I want the children I work with to appreciate themselves and to learn how to deal with those ‘royal pains’ independently. I want them to feel like the robust and powerful little beings that I know they are and, most importantly, I want them to grow up into healthy adults who don’t allow the small things in life to continually overwhelm them or weigh them down.
So yes, idealistically, that’s how I would explain my role as an educator … but, realistically, it’s definitely not always easy. There are often times that I forget all these wonderful, enlightening lessons. And then, bugger it, I suddenly find myself slap bang in the middle of the drama yet again, feeling frustrated and irritated with the resounding words “Shut up and butt out, Gayle” reeling through my head. But I think the point I am trying to make is quite simply this: “Every day I keep trying.” And on those awesome days when I do actually get it right, I have to admit I am always amazed.
Children are indeed stronger and more resilient little beings than I have ever given them credit for.
Most of the time, they don’t even need or want to find a solution. They just need to be heard and validated; to feel like their feelings and their frustrations matter.
That- I can do.
Children are indeed stronger and more resilient little beings than I have ever given them credit for. Most of the time, they don’t even need or want to find a solution. They just need to be heard and validated; to feel like their feelings and their frustrations matter.
That- I can do.
Of course, there will always be those children that look at you in sheer and utter horror and bewilderment: ‘Whaaaaat! You aren’t going to come to sort this out for me?’ I simply watch as they run off and find another adult who is willing to wade in and fight their battle for them. But, hey, all power to them. They are determined little buggers- intent on finding somebody to solve their problems.
All I know is that it just won’t be me.
Children are educated by what the grown-up is and not by his talk.
Carl Jung
All photograph found at FreeDigitalphotos.net
Images courtesy of (photos from top to bottom); imagerymajestic, Stuart Miles, David Castillo Dominici, imagerymajestic, Mister GC and stock images
Just found and read this blog – well written – you are and always will be an excellent teacher. Your Life Coach phase was a growing point but you came back to your best skill and I know many children will benefit from your love of them and teaching.
Love you lots.
Lol from my number one fan….my mum!! Thanks mummy dearest you are too sweet xxx