Stepping Back
We live in a culture that fears a gap and over-values constant talk as though we’re all DJs on the radio who never can allow any “dead space.” It can be a luxury, then, to take part in a living pause that lets us relax, observe and appreciate the wonder of a growing human being.
That’s why the parent-classes I offer for infants and toddlers under the age of two always include a time when we adults remain silent for a little while, allowing the wisdom of this simple children’s rhyme to be experienced directly:
The wise old owl, he sat in an oak
The more he saw, the less he spoke
The less he spoke, the more he heard
Oh, why can’t we be like that wise old bird?
Intentional words—with their rhythm, clarity and meaning—are, of course, essential to children’s language development. That’s why every class for even the youngest infants also includes singing and nursery rhymes that engage the children and ground them in language. Speaking at a gentle pace about the ‘here and now’ with young children during the familiar activities of their day helps children feel bonded to and nurtured by their caregiver. But silence is golden, too—yet something that is becoming increasingly elusive. With the older children we are more subtle about our quieter time—for instance the parents work on a craft while the children play, interacting as needed and as feels natural, but also giving them space to initiate their own explorations and experiences.
During this intentional silent pause during class, parents and caregivers respond to any needs that may arise while also holding back enough to give the children a chance to become absorbed in an activity, object or interaction on their own. The children soak up this quietness and often play with particular focus during this time. It’s interesting to see how some of the babies and toddlers who were vocal and chatty while the adults were talking become silent, while others who were previously quiet begin softly talking or humming. The children often move about with a heightened sense of purpose as they create their own play and explore the surroundings, all while being bathed in the warmth and security of the adults’ quiet, nonverbal interest. And all without being distracted away from what they are doing by the adults’ well-meaning but often superfluous comments and questions.
During this time, when a child initiates an exchange with an adult—bringing over a baby doll, for example—we’ve discovered together that he can be deeply satisfied by a smile or similar wordless acknowledgement, such as looking appreciatively at the doll or holding it close for a moment before handing it back. Children don’t always need us to remark on how sweet the doll is, ask what color pajamas it’s wearing, or wonder aloud whether the baby doll needs a blanket. This respite from adult talk appears to be a relief to the children. It’s clearly a respite for the grown-ups, many of whom have said that they feel calmer and more connected to the children after slowing down and observing in this way. Some adults feel a bit awkward at first during the exercise, but eventually begin to relish the time as they come to notice and appreciate all the effective, natural, nonverbal ways in which babies and toddlers communicate. The adults become deeply interested in and fascinated by the children’s play, movement and development—and can relax within themselves for a brief moment.
Sometimes a small conflict over a toy arises during the observation time, but this usually resolves quite easily without adult words (more easily than when we do use words, we’ve discovered). Often just moving in close while remaining aware of and available to the children is enough to help them figure out their own solution. Or gently inserting a hand in the air between a would-be grabber and a tuft of another child’s hair gives a clear, understandable message that needs no lengthy explanation. Enough shown, enough ‘said’—and quickly, matter-of-factly, everyone can move on. I’ve noticed that when I or another adult offers a gesture like this during the quiet time, we tend to move with more clarity and intention than when we add words.
We adults have often remarked that no one would believe us that a roomful of babies or toddlers could be so active and yet so peaceful, or that merely watching with sincere interest while the children play could be such a genuinely fascinating activity. Often I feel that I am watching a beautifully choreographed dance as the seeming chaos of a room full of such young children quickly organizes itself into a harmonious set of movements. Babies and toddlers move with exquisite competence and are wonderful (in the full sense of the word) to watch—something all of the adults come to appreciate over the course of our class time together.
As parent educator Magda Gerber said, “The more we observe, the more we understand and appreciate the enormous amount and speed of learning that happens during the first two or three years of life. We become more humble.” This healthy humility helps us understand that we can “instruct” less during these early years because the child herself knows what to do and when, if given both the space and boundaries within which to do that. Especially during the first few years of life, a powerful, innate developmental wisdom is at work that we can either support or thwart. Sometimes our commentaries and explanations do hinder rather than help, because we can unwittingly layer our own assumptions, expectations and viewpoints over the children’s own direct experience. Or we can cause them to become too dependent on our enthusiastic or worried reactions to what they do. Purposely stepping back while remaining inwardly interested and engaged—and offering an occasional quiet acknowledgement as needed—gives space for the children to get to know themselves from within, intrinsically. They may feel joy at mastering a new movement or task, frustration in not achieving something right away, or determination to ‘try-try-try’ again until they do. When we begin to appreciate the remarkable phenomenon of early childhood growth and development taking place before our eyes, we tend to find ourselves not wanting to get in the way of the children’s self-initiated moving, sensing, creating, relating and knowing. The reward is that children receive more opportunities to discover for themselves who they are and what they can do, and the light of this inner knowing shines in their eyes.