Mini count down to 70: #3

Legacy

It probably is too early to be thinking about one's legacy. But as I inch closer to the age of 70, and since I am retiring at the end of June, I have been wondering what, if anything I have contributed to my professional field. At the same time, I think about what I can do going forward without formal employment. I wrote a bit about that in one of my recent blog posts. I am truly concerned about how young children are being treated in early childhood settings and programs. Yesterday, I was running to my car in a hurry to meet a friend for a walk, when a line of about five young children walked by me with their two teachers. The children were very small, I figured about 16 months or so, and were each holding onto a ring attached to a strap. One or two were stumbling a little as they walked, so I guessed they were new to walking. At the back, the smallest one was crying bitterly, gasping sobs. The teachers were talking to each other almost as if the children weren't there, and not once did they turn to look or bend down to relate to the sobbing child. I stood and watched for about two minutes hoping that if they saw me they might stop and attend to her. But they didn't notice me either. So, finally, I walked up to them and greeted them with a smile. "Lovely day, isn't it?" I said hoping to interrupt their conversation. "Yes," one retorted grumpily. I asked where they were from and they pointed to the building where they work. "Have a nice day!" I said and continued toward my car. As I looked back, the child was still sobbing, and the teachers returned to their conversation with each other.

I assume that they believe the child will receive too much positive reinforcement if they pick her up when she is crying. After all, they probably think, she needs to self-regulate and learn how to deal with life. After all: You get what you get and shouldn't get upset! And who knows, probably this is the way that these woman were treated when they were young children themselves, and they are only passing on what they learned, thinking that it worked for them. But I wonder how a young toddler learns self-regulation without compassion and relationship. I wonder about that a lot. Have even written two books about it. I think that mostly she learns that the world is harsh and uncaring, and she has to go it alone, and repress her feelings when she is distressed, tired, afraid, angry - whatever. 

My heart was breaking as I drove off to meet my friend. I shed a few tears for that little girl. Or perhaps my tears were for when I was a little girl. Once again I realize that I still have so much work to do. Perhaps write another book? But will anyone read it? Or offer my services for professional development wherever people with young children need me. But how do I get my name out there? And when I die? I think about that as I get older. Who will remember this important work? Young children grow into future citizens of the world. Will they learn that the world is a harsh, repressive place, or will they understand that love and relationships, guidance and support is what will protect and bind us together as a human race? 

I want children to learn compassion and empathy, from compassionate and empathic adults. So, what can I say? I have still so much more work to do, and every moment has become ever more precious - even urgent as I forge forward.

Comments

[Tamarika]

Dear Sylvia - thank you so much for these words! I dedicated my blog post this morning to you:
https://tamarika.typepad.com/mined_nuggets/2019/05/mini-count-down-to-70-4.html

[Sylvia Chard]

I remember having similar feelings more than a decade ago. I still had some opportunities to help teachers during my seventies but they became fewer. I came to realise that I had done my bit, contributed my 2 cents worth, and encouraged younger colleagues to keep up the good work and develop their ideas and their work to carry on mine along the way. Each generation must be succeeded by the next. It was my time to step down graciously. I no longer shed tears at cruelty, I no longer wish I had longer to work. I have come to recognise the finite nature of all individual human endeavour and yet, at the same time, the interconnectedness of all human efforts for good. There will be opportunities for others to pick up the thread where you left off, they will be just as dedicated. And for sure, they will be influenced and heartened by the work that you achieved before them.