Children as Our Teachers

Fighting their own Battles

Most of our life's lessons, we learn through those who are older, wiser and more learned than ourselves. We stumble through life collecting other valuable tidbits mostly through trial and error, learning also from the various bumps and bruises we get on the long hard journey to becoming grownups.

When we become parents, the baton is passed. Then, drawing on everything we know, learned and experienced so far, we evolve into the first of many teachers our children will learn from.

What amazes me is the most valuable lessons I have ever learned have come from the children I love and have been entrusted to teach ... my own. One of the most important lessons came from my oldest daughter, Carrie, when she was five.

Like most parents, my protective instinct was highly developed. I would have given my life for any of my children. Thank God, that was never necessary, but here is what I learned from Carrie:

We lived in a nice neighborhood in Elmhurst, Illinois, at the time. My two oldest daughters, Beth, 3 , and Carrie, 5 , played with two little neighbor girls the same ages, who lived across the street from us. Their mother, Jane, and I took turns having the girls play at our houses.

On this day, Carrie was riding her bike with training wheels on the sidewalk across the street with her friend, Colleen, who was on her own bike. As usual, Jane kept a watchful eye on them from her porch.

After a while, I noticed one of the young neighborhood boys, Tommy, walking with his mother towards the girls. He was known to be rough and we had all experienced his bullying. I felt the girls would be safe, but to be sure, I kept my eye on them across the street, especially Carrie, by peeking out my front window every few minutes.

As the two mothers were talking, I watched Tommy walk over to Carrie on her bike. He put his hand on her handlebars and tugged hard on the bike. Carrie said something to him as she struggled to keep her balance.  Tommy pulled on the bike even harder, obviously trying to shake her off. Carrie again said something to him and I could see that she was getting agitated. My motherly instincts took over and I ran to get my shoes.

As I hurriedly jammed my second sneaker on and was tying it, I peeked out again. Carrie was now off her bike, looking up at the boy and saying something to him. Suddenly, he hit her. Like a bull, I saw red! I was on my feet and headed for the door, when the most surprising thing happened.

Carrie decked him! He fell backwards onto the grass, holding his hand over his nose. I stood in the doorway watching with my mouth open. My chin, I'm sure, was on the floor. Then very calmly, Carrie walked over to him, put out her hand, and helped him up.

As hard as it had been to watch, I learned a valuable lesson that day from my five-year-old daughter: Within reason, children must be allowed to stand up for themselves and fight their own battles. As a mother, I felt so proud of her, and humbled by her actions.

What would she have learned, had I rushed over there and reprimanded either Tommy for his bullying, or his mother for allowing it?

Carrie now is a woman and the mother of three sons. Now it’s her turn to love, teach and … learn as a parent.

Thank you, Carrie.

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