Читать книгу A Spoonful of Sugar - Liz Fraser - Страница 14

If you fill every waking moment with clubs and

lessons and activities, where is all the time for

childhood – for free, creative, imaginative play?

It’s a vital point, and I’m interested in why this intense activity-cramming is happening.

Why are all we meddling, fussing parents so frightened if our kids can’t speak eight languages and compose symphonies by the time their milk teeth fall out? Who are we trying to impress? And who are we doing it all for – the kids themselves? I’m not so convinced.

I’ve known children in the Reception class at school who are only given toys if they learn their times tables. Aged four!! Of course it’s a great idea to teach basic maths and literacy as part of their everyday lives, and we do it all the time – adding up the peas on the plate, learning how to write ‘sausages’ and so on, but why teach it in such a pressurised, results-driven way? It’s rather unnecessary, I think. But there are many kids under this kind of low-level, constant pressure these days, as so many parents worry about giving their children ‘the best chance’.

And there’s the nub of the issue. What is the best chance? I put the inescapably meagre case for the defence to Granny.

‘I think what’s happened is that we’ve lost confidence in ourselves, and we’ve got confused about what the “best” is for our children,’ I venture.

‘Oh, then let me help you out. ‘Best’ doesn’t mean sent to the most classes. “Best” doesn’t mean getting the biggest prize. The best thing you can do for your child is be there. And that’s where much of this pushing and shoving comes from.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, so many parents aren’t there, looking after their children as we used to be. So you feel guilty, understandably, and you try to make up for it by creating some “wonder child” who has everything – including extra French lessons and Tai Kwon Do. It’s supposed to show what a good parent you are, I suppose, when really you just need to be at home more.’

Aha, a masterful play of the guilt card. And, though I feel it’s unjustly aimed mainly at the womb-bearing half of the species, it’s still a winning one.

‘There seems to be a belief,’ she continues, ‘that if you put them into enough classes and courses and get them all the grades, achievements and skills, that will in some way make up for your absence and give them the ticket to a good life.’

Granny has raised an important point about guilt and making up for our absence, but I think she’s missed an even greater one raised by two mothers below:

“I just can’t believe how many extra activities some kids do – and yes, I do feel under pressure to not let mine fall behind. But at the same time, I want my kids to have more time at home to do what they want, and not have to do cello practice or Spanish verbs. They are at primary school, and it doesn’t seem right to me to take so much of their play time away.”

Helen, mother of Suzanne and Tom

“We were expected to be bored sometimes when I was a child. Now, we stimulate our kids all the time. I over-plan like mad!! Sometimes I can’t arrange a play date for my daughter and her friends for months because they’re all so busy. With all the alpha mummies or alpha daddies there comes a lot of ‘Oh, is she in Japanese class yet?’ We don’t have to raise our kids this way: a six year old doesn’t need a PA!”

Linda, mother of Jessica, six

The pressure from other parents not to ‘fall behind’, and to ‘keep up’ is immense. A lot of our manic ‘activity-doing’ with our kids is not to alleviate guilt, but because many parents feel under unspoken pressure to keep up with everyone else. And I know from my own kids that much of it also comes from the children themselves: if their best mates are playing the piano, they want to play the piano too!

Between the three of them, my own children do four ballet classes a week, plus violin, cello, football, chess and choir. And they’re all at primary school. So am I a pushy mum?

Well no, I don’t think I am, because they want to do all of this. If any of them wanted to stop, they could at any time. They have asked to do all of these things, and they absolutely love them. In fact, they have asked to do a good deal more activities and classes that I’ve had to say no to, just to keep some time free for us all to be together. So maybe the well-intended push turns into unacceptable shove when the poor love wants to play the trombone about as much as he wants to eat his own poo. Each child to their own, but beware the considerable pressure from other parents; you let your child do what is right for them, and sod the irritating show offs next door whose son plays cricket for the Junior England squad, while his sister’s got a part in Steven Spielberg’s next movie. Good luck to them, and good luck to yours, too.

So, how can we stop the pressure cooker from exploding?