Principal's Blog
2018 Term 1
Extending the Boundaries of Care
I have always believed that it takes a village to raise a child. This is now an oft quoted mantra. But how this sentiment usually seems to manifest in our culture is more like: ‘I’m happy for you to involve yourself in helping me raise my child, as long as it is in my way and on my terms.’ My wished for village resembles a community that values the well-being of all children and is inhabited by adults who naturally assume a caring authority over the children. And given the likely diversity across such a group of caring adults, I would expect a variety of responses to my (or other) children that didn’t always resemble my own. Also, I am aware that my children would from time to time be found annoying, difficult and inconsiderate, and if the adults in this village were to extend their care to my children, there would be times when they would need to assert their authority.
I have often flagged trust as central to the relationship between adults who share the care of children. When handing my own children over to others, this has been key. Certainly, deciding who to hand my children over to requires discernment. But once this choice is made, I feel that it is important to then step back. My experience has been that my trust in my children’s carers has affirmed them, empowering them to give their best, while simultaneously empowering my children. My (unstated) message to my children being that they are able to navigate the world – they don’t need me to entirely manage it for them. My sense is that our common approach to shared care could do with more flexibility in whom we entrust our kids to, and with more trust and tolerance of different styles of parenting. My observation of my own children is that leaning further in the trust direction has allowed others to develop greater care for them, allowed my children to learn first-hand about diversity of people and relationships, and helped foster community.
Still, despite my commitment to community care, I was surprised last year when a friend, on returning one of my children, informed me that she had smacked them. Not surprised that she felt this was an appropriate response to some misdemeanour, but that she delivered the smack despite social and cultural taboos against such an act. Little did she know that I viewed a loving, caring adult giving one of my children a smack as a (sometimes) fitting expression of care. Her response to my child was, for me, an act of care that went beyond the boundaries of how much we typically take responsibility for the upbringing of each other’s children. The predominant feeling I experienced when she told me about this smack was one of appreciation. Someone in my community had taken greater responsibility for raising my child than is normal; she was fully engaged in helping me raise them. I had long predicted that no one in the community would ever extend the boundaries of care toward my children to this degree. At least not in Australia. I did not believe that anyone in this country was brave enough to do this – to smack another person’s child.
I am still now, a year on, none the wiser as to what that particular child did to receive the smack. My friend attempted to tell me, to explain or justify their action, but I did not need to know. In trusting them, there was no need to explore or discuss this, I simply clarified that in future there was no need to even inform me. My child never shared this incident with me; they probably didn’t want to get into trouble for a second time. If my child had raised this smack with me, my short, firm response would have been to state that if we are kind, helpful, and considerate then we don’t get smacked; so if you don’t want to get smacked, be kind, helpful, and considerate.
I would like my children to grow up happy, and I see part of this as being able to easily integrate into the community around them. When children fail in this, as they sometimes do, most of us choose to look away, or to edge our own children away from playing with a difficult or annoying child. Exclusion and isolation are the typical response to poor or antisocial behaviour, generally with no explanation. I feel the absence of a clear response to the child as the absence of care, a situation that deprives many children of a chance to learn where they are going wrong, where they are mucking up their relationships with others, or how they are coming across. My friend showed courage, courage that is not often rewarded. In many situations smacking a child would result in being made a monster or pariah – we are generally more comfortable with shooting the messenger than examining our own children’s behaviour, behaviour that will lead to future (or present) social isolation.
So, to my friend who put my child’s wellbeing first and social convention second, and so took a considerable risk, my heartfelt thanks. I have always felt that love is predominantly expressed through kindness, affection and compassion, but that sometimes love is lived through a firm, clear response. Thanks for providing both to my children.
Timothy Berryman (Principal).