How do you know that you are doing something important when what you are doing is experimental and there is no organization out there to bestow you with authority?
Moments like this:
For four mornings in a row, I facilitated "graphic narrative play" sessions for my two daughters, ages 6 and 9, and one boy, age 6. Generally, for each hour-and-a-half session, I am drawing and talking with the children for the entire time. Toward the end of the fourth session, however, a moment came when all three children seemed absorbed in their process and I decided to try something new.
I got this frog out of my "inspiration box."
Moments like this:
For four mornings in a row, I facilitated "graphic narrative play" sessions for my two daughters, ages 6 and 9, and one boy, age 6. Generally, for each hour-and-a-half session, I am drawing and talking with the children for the entire time. Toward the end of the fourth session, however, a moment came when all three children seemed absorbed in their process and I decided to try something new.
I got this frog out of my "inspiration box."
I started to sketch it with the idea in mind that I would transform it in some way. I was doing it for my own enjoyment but also to see how the children would react. As expected, they showed interest and came over to see what I was doing.
"Add a tongue that is a snake and on fire!"
"He should be stinky!"
"He eats poop and drinks pee -- that's why he's stinky!"
"He should be huge! Bigger than buildings!"
I expressed my disgust at his diet, but drew as suggested anyway.
"Add a tongue that is a snake and on fire!"
"He should be stinky!"
"He eats poop and drinks pee -- that's why he's stinky!"
"He should be huge! Bigger than buildings!"
I expressed my disgust at his diet, but drew as suggested anyway.
The 6-year-olds were full of giggles and delight. One added to the drawing and the other asked to take it home. My 9-year-old, on the other hand, was disgusted.
"That's gross. I don't like it."
To be honest, I felt the same. Part of me wondered if I was wrongly encouraging "bathroom humor." I didn't mention this out loud, because I needed to see where trusting children to make meaning as they pleased would lead.
Still thinking about the episode later in the day, I talked with my daughters about how it is interesting that certain images and topics can make us feel uncomfortable. I mentioned that adults especially can become uncomfortable, even though drawings are just marks on paper and in theory every image can lead conversations and learning. I explained that I thought it was my job to draw without judging what was funny or exciting. The point was to get images on paper, and find ways for everyone to think a little further or a little deeper. We compared drawing poop and pee in a toilet to drawing princesses and mermaids, an activity that was banned in one of my daughter's classrooms. I responded that I thought that all drawings should be allowed, and an adult should engage the princess and mermaid image-makers with questions. The conversation ended naturally and we moved on to another topic.
What happened a few hours later was deep. We were in the car, and in the back seat, someone used the word "stupid" and the other child said "that's a bad word." The ball was then thrown to me with the question, "Mommy, is "idiot" worse than "stupid"? My friend's mom says it is." I replied that "stupid" has a broader range of meaning; depends upon context; etc. Thinking back to the conversation about images, I talked about how the words themselves are just letters/sounds put together and are not "good" or "bad." They gain power based upon how people react to them. We talked about Voldemort in Harry Potter as an example. I asked them if they had ever felt that there were words that were powerful because they made adults feel uncomfortable.
Their reaction made me feel as if I had laid down a bridge between their world and mine. In slightly nervous voices, they began asking me about every "bad" word that they had ever heard. There was a feeling of trust in the car that every parent wants to feel with his or her children.
I am convinced that this conversation happened today because I did not censor drawing in the morning and, at the same time, I admitted and explored my discomfort out loud. I let them in, and they responded by letting me in. The feelings of acceptance and trust that I felt flowing between us are how I know that I am doing something important.
"That's gross. I don't like it."
To be honest, I felt the same. Part of me wondered if I was wrongly encouraging "bathroom humor." I didn't mention this out loud, because I needed to see where trusting children to make meaning as they pleased would lead.
Still thinking about the episode later in the day, I talked with my daughters about how it is interesting that certain images and topics can make us feel uncomfortable. I mentioned that adults especially can become uncomfortable, even though drawings are just marks on paper and in theory every image can lead conversations and learning. I explained that I thought it was my job to draw without judging what was funny or exciting. The point was to get images on paper, and find ways for everyone to think a little further or a little deeper. We compared drawing poop and pee in a toilet to drawing princesses and mermaids, an activity that was banned in one of my daughter's classrooms. I responded that I thought that all drawings should be allowed, and an adult should engage the princess and mermaid image-makers with questions. The conversation ended naturally and we moved on to another topic.
What happened a few hours later was deep. We were in the car, and in the back seat, someone used the word "stupid" and the other child said "that's a bad word." The ball was then thrown to me with the question, "Mommy, is "idiot" worse than "stupid"? My friend's mom says it is." I replied that "stupid" has a broader range of meaning; depends upon context; etc. Thinking back to the conversation about images, I talked about how the words themselves are just letters/sounds put together and are not "good" or "bad." They gain power based upon how people react to them. We talked about Voldemort in Harry Potter as an example. I asked them if they had ever felt that there were words that were powerful because they made adults feel uncomfortable.
Their reaction made me feel as if I had laid down a bridge between their world and mine. In slightly nervous voices, they began asking me about every "bad" word that they had ever heard. There was a feeling of trust in the car that every parent wants to feel with his or her children.
I am convinced that this conversation happened today because I did not censor drawing in the morning and, at the same time, I admitted and explored my discomfort out loud. I let them in, and they responded by letting me in. The feelings of acceptance and trust that I felt flowing between us are how I know that I am doing something important.