Because I Said So

Mary's Child - AT Type 710

One of the issues I often find myself confronting in my work as a preschool teaching assistant is the nature of my power as an authority figure. It's an unsettling position, because I would like to believe that everyone in my role is there to be a positive influence on children, and not because they want to exert control over other people. I'm blessed to be working at Lemberg Children's Center, an environment that strongly echoes my personal feelings about how young children should be taught, socially and intellectually. Of course, after almost two years of working there, this is largely because the environment has shaped my values, but I can recall being very comfortable there from the start and never feeling as though I was supporting an unhealthy system. One of the most fundamental aspects of this system is that all rules are in place for very important reasons - to protect the health and safety of our children and staff, to encourage a cooperative community based on mutual respect and care, and to maintain the safety and integrity of our shared property and space.

I think things have changed a bit since the olden days, don't you? In Mary's Child, we see the same sort of "don't do it because I said so" message that comes up time and time again in fairy tales. Let the kid see the Holy Trinity, why don't you? I hate to criticize the Virgin Mary on her child-rearing practices, but it basically seems like she's giving the child a rule just so she can punish her when she breaks it. I've found that when dealing with anyone above the age of 2, one's best bet when seeking obedience is to actually explain to the child why you're asking them to do something. Well, OK, sometimes you need to tell them you're going to count how many seconds it takes them to put their blankets in their cubbies, and promise you're going to start from Negative Zero. And sometimes you're better off asking them how many feet they have and then indulging them and counting both of their feet repeatedly all the way up to one hundred when that's the answer they give (this method, by the way, is for getting shoes on). But that's beside the point. If you're asking a child to do something, and you can't come up with a better answer than "because I said so," then why are you saying so?

Labors of Love

Lately I have been evaluating the amount of effort I place on various activities in my life. Painting, drawing, writing, knitting, reading, and so on. There is a notion that is often discussed in the art studio about need, about whether one needs to be in the studio, or needs to be making a certain kind of work. For a time I felt obligated by my surroundings to produce a certain kind of work, but I now see that something was lacking in that effort. What was lacking was not exactly need, but something closer to love. I did not love the work I was creating, I did not love myself for making it, and I was not making it for someone I loved. I was making work for the wrong people, and communicating the wrong things with the wrong audience.

Love is something that is worth a lot of effort. Fatigue and exhaustion should not and do not matter when the work is done for love. Time is never lost, but always well-spent, when it reinforces one's bond of love with another person. It took me a long time to realize it, but when I paint it is often not with love in mind. When I painted narratives I did not love the image. I loved the story, but it was not the story I was painting. When I create portraits, I love the people I am drawing or painting. When I create still-lives, I love the objects I am drawing or painting. When I knit something for my friend, I love the person I am creating for, and I put that love in the object I'm creating. When I'm working without love, I can stop whenever I want. With love, it doesn't matter how long it takes, or how weary it makes me, because I don't stop until I'm done.