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Some of the material on how to explain the
phenomenon is basic, although useful for new parents or those who are
nervous about broaching difficult subjects with their kids. The
guidelines range from: "Listen to what your child has to say. Don’t
lecture." "Let your child tell you what she needs."
"Answer questions directly but don’t give them more information
than is appropriate for their age." "Give your children lots
of hugs and reassure them that you will look after them."
"This is a time to bring your family together for loving times,
together times, fun times." "Affirm their feelings of fear,
sadness, confusion or anger, and let them know that this is a natural
reaction to events such as this."
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What to do
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Don’t
blame groups/communities.
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Don’t
oversimplify situations.
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Don’t
pass on your anxieties to kids.
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Reaffirm
faith in interpersonal relationships.
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Give them
lots of hugs.
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Answer
questions directly but don’t give them more information than
is appropriate for their age.
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Emphasise
that good family values are also good international values.
- Instil compassion and teach
them the value of people.
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All these pieces of
advice make sense, and will go some way in helping children and young
people cope with the aftermath of that terrible day. But two issues that
typically receive only cursory attention in these guidelines are, in
fact, the most profound and important. As a matter of fact, the two ‘lessons’
that children, and their parents, can learn from this critical period
are ‘empathy’ and ‘political awareness’.
Judy Myers-Walls, Child
Development Specialist at Purdue Extension, Canada, alludes to these
concepts when she says: "It would be helpful to guide them towards
separating the evil of the event from the value of people. Adolescents
could easily take the emotions of the event as a call to paint entire
groups as enemies. Alternately, they may be able to understand that the
concerns of groups may be legitimate, but that using violence —
whether it is a fist, a bomb, or an airplane— is never the best way to
deal with frustration or anger."
Empathy and political
consciousness are two areas that some parents steer clear of in their
child-rearing practices. The reasons for this evasion emanate from a
discomfort with broaching these subjects with children. In some cases,
for instance, parents may be doubtful that a quality as amorphous and
intuitive as empathy can be ‘taught’ and uncomfortable, in other
cases, with a topic so controversial as politics.
But empathy and the
courage to take a political stand are fundamental to making this a
kinder and gentler world. And a lack of empathy and an absence of
commitment to political action to ‘doing our part’, no matter how
small, are fundamental to the terrible misdeeds that people— mostly
men— perpetrate upon other people.
And, of course, in the
kind of world most of us want to live in, empathy and political action,
however one defines ‘political action’, are inextricably
intertwined. The courage to take a political stand, to form opinions and
then to act on issues on which one feels strongly, untempered by
empathy, is dangerous indeed — a recipe, in fact, for violent or even
terrorist acts. And empathy on an individual level, while vitally
important to a healthy life, is ineffectual in the wider world if it is
not exercised in a broader socio-political context.
This crucial interface
between political action and empathy is one of the lessons we can teach
our children as we watch these events unfold on our television screens
or discuss them over the dinner table.
"We don’t talk
about politics in our family" is often put forward as a virtue, as
if "not talking politics" is the equivalent to avoiding
brainwashing children into one ideology or another. But political
consciousness doesn’t mean political propagandising. It means sharing
information and knowledge, encouraging critical thinking, and teaching
values. It means helping children to bring together the personal and the
political, to understand that the same values that guide us in our
families and our friendships, can guide us in our international
relations.
Surely the lessons we
feel comfortable teaching our children — about racism and intolerance
and greed and violence and abuse of power in their personal
relationships— can be extended to our country’s relationships with
other countries in the world.
No matter what the age
of our children, if they are old enough to look troubled by the talk or
the images, or old enough to ask questions, then they are old enough to
talk about these things. If the child is three, you talk to the child in
a language a three-year-old understands and comprehends. You talk about
fighting in the playground, and using words instead of hitting, and
thinking about how they would feel if someone said something nasty to
them. And if the child is 17, you talk to that young person about the
choices they can make if someone taunts them with cruel words, or breaks
into their locker, or is ostracised on the playing field.
Whatever their age, you
talk to young people about the similarities and differences between
children in India, Canada, or Afghanistan, in the temple or in the
mosque. You talk to them about hunger and hurting and being afraid,
because every child, no matter what their age, has been hungry and hurt
and afraid. The only differences are where it happens, what we can do
about it, and whether it will go away or not. And you talk about the
fact that two wrongs don’t make a right, because the rules of the
playground aren’t, after all, very different from the rules of
international relations.
If we avoid talking about these issues
because they are too horrible or too difficult, or because we don’t
think our children are ready to talk about them, or because we are not
ready to talk about them, then these events hold huge potential to harm
our children. Because not only do these events communicate insidious
messages of hate and violence and intolerance, but we have wasted an
enormous opportunity to raise our children’s consciousness about the
human condition, and about their vital part in the unfolding of this
world. —WFS
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