An existential conversation about death with a 4 yr old...
Once again this year, I'm working as a preschool teacher in my free afternoons. I adore my kids, most of whom I've been with for a couple of years now. However, a few days ago, one of my favorites threw me through a loop, and it left a profound impression on me.
As a child, I never really pondered mortality. I would live forever, my parents would live forever, my friends were immortal. And, though I grew to learn the harsh realities of life as I matured, even now its a fairly foreign concept. Up until this year, I had never been faced with death. When I learned of the passing of my roomate this summer, I didn't know how to grasp it, I still don't. I think there are a rare few who do.
So when my favorite kid came into class in tears, and asked me if its true that everyone dies one day, and that he's going to die too, I was flabbergasted. I assured him that he's only 4 years old, and that he has a long long life ahead of him, that death is the last thing he needs to worry about. Which he accepted. Then he realized his death is not the only one that matters. What happens when mommy and daddy die, what will he do then? What about the teachers and the trashmen and all the mommies and daddies? Who will teach and take out the trash and take care of the kids? Will god know to replace them? How does god decide who lives and who dies? What happens when *I* die? Will I die before him?
I told him that I didn't know the answers to these questions anymore than he does, that he should talk to his parents as they are older and wiser than both of us. And I had a long talk with his mother about it, but still - its left me shaken.
I've never been scared of my own death. I've always believed there are things worse than death, places I've been before and could hardly bear it. Not living, in life, to me is a far more terrifying concept. I've always thought death to be an inevitability, an ultimate destination of peace and contentedness. The eternal sleep. Dying is a far more horrific idea, the idea of pain, of what it must feel like when life slowly escapes you. But, like my student, I've always been terrifyed of losing someone. It is not the dead I worry about, but those they leave behind. More times than I'd care to remember the same notions have gone through my head about what would happen when my parents die. Its something we all have to face eventually, but a reality none of us want to meet. And what of friends? Or even the people who run in and out of our lives everyday? It s unfathomable to me that one minute they're there, and the next they're not. How fickle and fragile life is. More than anything, I've just always wanted to live my life to the fullest, with the people I love and loving myself at the same time. I have a growing list of all the things I want to do before I die, and I've accomplished many of them.
But even so, is death really something anyone can learn to accept? Will this concept ever grow easier for the kid? Or are the wide-eyed initial wonderments of a child representative of one of the greatest questions mankind has ever known? Will anyone ever get any closer to understanding it?
One of the reasons I love working with kids is they often lead me to reevaluate my own beliefs and life. They're clean slates. They're minds so refreshing and new. And more often than not, I feel I learn from them, rather than the opposite.
As a child, I never really pondered mortality. I would live forever, my parents would live forever, my friends were immortal. And, though I grew to learn the harsh realities of life as I matured, even now its a fairly foreign concept. Up until this year, I had never been faced with death. When I learned of the passing of my roomate this summer, I didn't know how to grasp it, I still don't. I think there are a rare few who do.
So when my favorite kid came into class in tears, and asked me if its true that everyone dies one day, and that he's going to die too, I was flabbergasted. I assured him that he's only 4 years old, and that he has a long long life ahead of him, that death is the last thing he needs to worry about. Which he accepted. Then he realized his death is not the only one that matters. What happens when mommy and daddy die, what will he do then? What about the teachers and the trashmen and all the mommies and daddies? Who will teach and take out the trash and take care of the kids? Will god know to replace them? How does god decide who lives and who dies? What happens when *I* die? Will I die before him?
I told him that I didn't know the answers to these questions anymore than he does, that he should talk to his parents as they are older and wiser than both of us. And I had a long talk with his mother about it, but still - its left me shaken.
I've never been scared of my own death. I've always believed there are things worse than death, places I've been before and could hardly bear it. Not living, in life, to me is a far more terrifying concept. I've always thought death to be an inevitability, an ultimate destination of peace and contentedness. The eternal sleep. Dying is a far more horrific idea, the idea of pain, of what it must feel like when life slowly escapes you. But, like my student, I've always been terrifyed of losing someone. It is not the dead I worry about, but those they leave behind. More times than I'd care to remember the same notions have gone through my head about what would happen when my parents die. Its something we all have to face eventually, but a reality none of us want to meet. And what of friends? Or even the people who run in and out of our lives everyday? It s unfathomable to me that one minute they're there, and the next they're not. How fickle and fragile life is. More than anything, I've just always wanted to live my life to the fullest, with the people I love and loving myself at the same time. I have a growing list of all the things I want to do before I die, and I've accomplished many of them.
But even so, is death really something anyone can learn to accept? Will this concept ever grow easier for the kid? Or are the wide-eyed initial wonderments of a child representative of one of the greatest questions mankind has ever known? Will anyone ever get any closer to understanding it?
One of the reasons I love working with kids is they often lead me to reevaluate my own beliefs and life. They're clean slates. They're minds so refreshing and new. And more often than not, I feel I learn from them, rather than the opposite.