Let’s Listen to Kids Talk About Love
Emotional intelligence is a gift to be passed on at no extra charge
At 83 years of age, my grandmother is a teacher down to her bones. To this day, long retired and having taken up her dream profession of teaching foreign kids English, she devotes 3–4 hours per day to private teaching from home. Quite simply, teaching is my grandmother’s raison d’être and no bad hair day would ever persuade her otherwise.
My grandmother’s English lessons are nothing like standard grammar drills. In addition to in-depth language studies, to each child she tries to lift the lid of a treasure trove of philosophical thought lovingly collected from sources ranging from the Bible to Confucius, to Aesop, to Einstein, to Hawking; from the classics of literature, to the world as seen by great artists, to masterpieces of music.
This ‘cultural education’ is flawlessly incorporated into her English lessons in a way that both parents and children appreciate. While parents are proud of their children translating Aesop fables, reciting Shakespeare by heart, or describing a painting by Monet for homework, many children repay my grandmother with a pure enthusiasm and curiosity for learning so fresh and bright, it is impossible not to open one’s own heart to the clear spring of their youthful dreams.
Thus it doesn’t come as a surprise that whenever those budding dreams are broken, torn, or in pain, my grandmother finds herself in the role of ‘safe’ mediator turned to in search of refreshing wisdom and advice — the children (and teens) that my grandmother teaches know that they can turn to her when they’re in emotional trouble, and she will be there to give wise, calm advice which they’ll never hear from a school psychologist or busy parent.
“I’d never give them such homework,” my grandmother explains to me over the phone. “How can a teacher, even if a private, non-curriculum teacher, ask to write an essay about love, such a universal yet private feeling?”
Indeed, this small group of 9th graders received simple enough English homework: write a short essay on a topic of one’s own choice. The group, it must be said, consists of two young boys and a girl, all 15 years of age.
To my grandmother’s surprise, the essay handed her by one of the boys was titled “Does true love exist?” In this heartfelt text, scientific ideas were juxtaposed and entangled with the doubtful sufferings of a young heart. “Scientists say there is no such thing as love, there’s only chemistry” the essay reads, “but I don’t know whom to believe […] and what to do if your love is not reciprocated?!”
“I’m certain he’s writing about himself,” my grandmother continues, “I’ve noticed he cares for the girl, who, in turn, likes the other boy.” A 9th-grade love triangle, if anything! A thought went through my own mind that the reason for the essay must be twofold: he knows the essay shall be read aloud during the next lesson, and he may wish to thus, “safely”, tell the girl what he has not the courage to tell her directly; he also wants to confide his pains in a grown-up he trusts, and in a delicate way, receive a bit of advice on such intimate emotional matters.
This latter issue my grandmother found the most difficult. For how can one give any advice on feelings without hurting them at such a tender age? Adults know that sincerity hurts. And sound emotional advice can hurt more than any other. Moreover, is anyone really entitled to advise on heart matters, whatever the age (and experience) of both the taker and the giver?
How do we discuss emotions with children?
This small, even naive incident which my grandmother related provoked many thoughts inside my own mind. The prevailing one, though, was:
How seriously do we ever listen to children when they experience emotional trials? And how do we respond?
Do we write it off as “kids stuff”, smile and say, “ah, how cute” (when it comes to little children), or agitated at our own problems, throw a dry “get over it” on the way to work because, frankly, that’s just the way the world is (with teenagers)?
Unfortunately, all of that sounds pretty much the way adults handle the submerged emotional challenges of children and teenagers. If that weren’t so, I suppose the love-doubt monologue would be addressed to the boy’s mom or dad, at least a relative, but not his English teacher — after all, a stranger he sees twice a week. Yet somehow, he feels he can count on the stranger much more than on his family…
Sincerely yet truthfully talking with children about “heart-matters”, including love and heartbreak is a struggle that has been tackled in books and films — with a heavy shift towards comedy. Too often we sit back and laugh about such things, but deep down we know it’s an issue that in severe cases can lead to tragedy. Nonetheless, connecting to children’s emotional lives in a natural, non-judgmental, non-mentoring way remains a challenge we’d rather laugh off.
So, how do we talk to kids about love, emotion, heartbreak — gently, honestly, and without personal prejudice?
Perhaps there’s nothing better than momentarily jumping (back) into different shoes — those of ourselves, many years back, to try to answer that question sincerely.
While you embark on yours, here are a few thoughts that surfaced from my own plunge..
Reality shifts are real stuff
We know that the reality of children (both small and big kids) is a completely different one from that of a psychologically formed adult. Yet we are still guilty of underestimating the emotions of children.
Remember your first “love”? How cute the memory is now, but what a silent torment it used to be? Mine was Robin Hood from one of the many TV adaptations, and I ended up taking a photo of the TV set with a scene of him riding a horse, just to get something “living” to hold on to and put under my pillow. I was four.
Luckily for my parents, my toddler emotions provoked more drama than my teenage ones, but if that were always the case with everyone, we wouldn’t have so much teenage tragedy on the basis of emotional abuse gone unnoticed by the closest family members.
Yes, keeping in mind reality shifts isn’t just true for little kids, it’s true for everyone a lot younger than us. Thus, I’ve decided that my own credo would run so:
It’s our responsibility as adults to always adjust the focus of our reality when dealing with the emotional challenges of children. Emotional trials, whatever age they strike at, should always be taken seriously and even solemnly.
Time is always on our side
I once knew a person who would tell me, again and again (while unsuccessfully trying to push me into a relationship I did not want at all), “time isn’t on your side.”
I was repelled by this phrase then as I am now. It seemed downright absurd for any age, but especially considering I was 20 and had my whole life before me — a life that my heart was clearly telling me, was not meant to be with this person. And how glad I am that I listened — not to him, trying to rush me on, but to the very time (and my own intuition)that put everything in its rightful place.
The great German writer Stefan Zweig has an incredible novel, Impatience of the Heart (or, under its English title, Beware of Pity )where he portrays the tragic consequences of impatient, hasty emotion so natural for youth. But even in much more commonplace circumstances, the impatience of youth is the constant culprit that leads young people to forget their greatest ally. And so, we would do well to gently remind them (and ourselves):
Time is always on your side — and nothing superficial or non “true” will survive its test. Time is one yardstick emotion can always rely on when in doubt.
Emotions aren’t “good” or “bad”, emotional trust is essential
The older we get, the more we may fall into the vanitas vanitatum frame of mind, especially when life has given us a harsh lesson — or two, or multiple. Moreover, as intellect develops against the background of unromantic reality, it’s so much easier to let go of emotion and pass it off as something that brings only unnecessary pain.
This “disillusionment” is the source of many an argument with older children, who counter the grown-up idea of emotion as “old-skin to be shed” with their enthusiastic “emotion-as-God-given-manna” vision. Yet, if we look deeper, both ideas are equally wrong, for one speaks from inexperience while the other from prejudice. Neither speaks from unbiased sincerity.
Emotions, in truth, can be trusted — when carefully and sincerely evaluated by intellect. Thus the goal may very well be to turn our own and our grown children’s attention to this “golden ratio” of emotional life (the understanding and evaluation of sincere motives underlying our emotional actions).
Certainly, we cannot shield growing children from heartbreak and pain. Even if that were possible, it would place them in a secluded cocoon, breaking free of which would bring more torment and protest than any gradual experience. But walking this path hand in hand with children who crave our gentle advice, we can and must be the guiding lights whom they trust. And this in itself is possible only through mutual trust.
Winning a young person’s trust is not easy — as every parent knows, children’s emotional trust is very fragile in itself — betray it once, laugh over it twice, underestimate it, and it will never be back. Neither is it foolproof for the receiver.
Shared emotional trust will not prevent pain and heartbreak, or substitute for personal experience — but under its secure shield, a young person’s emotional life can be such as the wind is for the trees in spring: awakening the deeper roots of existence.
Each of us has the power to listen
Caring about children’s emotional well-being isn’t just for parents — in a small way, it is for each one of us — a relative, a friend, and simply someone who isn’t indifferent to another’s pain.
Whenever a tragedy happens, a tragedy of abuse and misunderstanding, we suddenly understand that there is no single guilty party — it is usually the indifference of a number of people that has led to an outcome of destruction. But as long as all is well, we can always keep our eyes tightly shut.
As grown-ups, facing (and fighting) our own emotional battles seems tricky enough. That is part of the reason why children’s emotional lives often leave even parents perplexed and feeling like, “how I wish I had your problems!”
But let us not forget that all too often, the emotional problems kids face are truly heavier than ours, for the weight of them on the fragile minds and hearts of (even older) children is simply overwhelming. Let us remember ourselves and learn from ourselves — not as we are now, but as we were once: unprotected and overpowered by something larger than us, something we had no way of handling alone and yet could find no way of explaining to grown-ups.
Simply by listening — without hustle, without prejudice, without renumeration — each of us can plant a small seed of confidence and warmth in someone’s mind and use our own emotional intelligence to make one young heart feel a little stronger and less trapped in this tough world.
How do we talk to children about love? The greater question may remain open, but that is its whole purpose — finding a personal answer may change not only someone else’s life but the meaning of our own life and happiness as well.
