Revelation ("Not yet").
As it gets usual, I no longer write on my career achievements or failures, on the job proposals on the other end of the world, on unexpected innovative education conferences, on the US Naval Academy professor sharing the bathroom with me, on Stanford high society circles suppers, on life-work balance, on my driving experience or the experience that drives me crazy. No, I'm going to post about a child.
To be super precise, I'm going to post about child-driven revelations. Recently I told my amazing director that the biggest lesson I'm going to learn in the US is not how to run business, commence startups, work in the luxurious education sector, rather I would learn about a happy family. In particular, the lesson of how to raise happy children in the business-emerced family.
Thus, my insights happened in the locked SUV car in the middle of Stanford campus with a 3 year old child of my directors - adorable angel-like creature. He is polite, kind and very gentle. But when you leave a child for 4 hours alone stating that "mummy will be back fairly soon" the child is waiting impatiently.
To clarify the situation from the very beginning: I'm a great friend with this kid - we spend quite a time together, I enjoy staying with him, taking him to preschool, participate in the separation procedures, I let him give me "a hug and a kiss before you go to bed or leave for work". I even know how to make him a snack and "water a plant" when he wants to use a bathroom unexpectedly in the middle of the street.
However, it's a totally different thing when you are left with the instruction to "be sure he takes a nap while we are both away". The child who has just had 2 hours of play-based school and hasn't seen his parents since early morning is not ready to take a nap. He is eager to do all sorts of things in order to avoid sleep and to see his long-awaited parents as soon as possible.
Basically, for the first hour he was just starting to check how patient I grew during my American experiences. To be perfectly honest, I was proud of myself being so calm, gentle, giving and never actually stressed that in the end my efforts were rewarded - he fell asleep on my breast, hugging me all the time while sleeping as I turned out to be the softest and warmest place to sleep in the car. But before we reached this peace of mind I, to be perfectly frank, had to undergo a number of strange experiences.
One of them (very much sorry for the straightforwardness) included going to the bathroom with a child who wants to do number 2, not number 1. I mean I could hardly imagine I can do that before it actually happened. I was surrounded by little kids I was teaching since I was about 17. But neither was I taking care of any child nor did I know how these very important subtleties work.
Another thing was a beautiful story of Cinderella. This was one of the tricks I used trying to convince him to take a nap never being mad ant him or losing my patience. The tricks included pretending that I am sleeping myself, singing all the English lullabies, then Russian lullabies, then simply Russian rock, reciting poems, even dancing with him at some point. Then came story time with the story of Cinderella. And at the moment when this poor little girl leaves her shoe I hear a question from my little darling "Do you know that basketball is amazing?". That's why I like little kids - they will always tell you directly when they don't like something.
Finally, it takes you a considerable amount of energy to breath with him. Literally. Because when he is falling asleep on you, the last thing you want to do is to wake him up by your own breathing and movement. So I had to breath very little and in accordance with his breathing rhythm.
So it's all settled and you are sort of medidating because you can hardly fall asleep yourself realizing the full responsibility for the tiny little boy and at one point around 40 min before the parents are finally supposed to turn up you feel him unexpectedly rising and asking "where is mummy?". You kind of try to encourage him to continue sleeping but he is fully awake and keeps asking where mummy is because he wants to see her. You explain that she is currently busy but the next question (namely, "when") leaves you silent since you never really know when exactly the parents will pop up. So you reply "pretty soon". The child leans back to you and in 30 seconds rises again with the question "is mummy coming now?". You explain "not yet" trying to calm him down. He leans again and in 30 seconds asks "now?" You repeat your reply and the whole serious missing game was replayed over and over again every 30-45 seconds, so he never seemed to be tired of it. But in 10 minutes when you are still patient answering "not yet" he demands certainty and starts counting minutes. Until he is close to tears. He can no longer wait. He is ready to cry because he wants mummy right here and right now. And "Boom!' The lightning strikes. Wait a minute! Why is it so familiar to you apart from the fact that you never ask these questions aloud? Isn't it happening to you right here and right now?
At that time I had to take urgent entertaining measures to save the child from dramatic cry and hysterics. It all worked out pretty well cause he was still asking constantly but was engaged in some other activities enjoying his time from now on. Thus I realized I am perfectly in his boots too. And there is no point in asking yourself or the universe the very same question again and again. As iI told this little boy "mummy is not going to come faster if you keep asking". The better way out is definitely to be more involved, engaged and summoaned with other activities rather than crying out of despair. To make the awaited moment truly closer.
And to be perfectly honest, I guess this 4 hour long mutual lesson of patience was one of the best interactive cources that I have ever taken in my entire life.