What if we don't have all the answers? And, what if that's okay? What if that's actually preferable?
I believe that I am a career student - whether I am in school or not. I am forever learning and impacted by the people surrounding me and I love that. I cherish the lessons, even the difficult ones. Whether I am in the role of a teacher, a caregiver, a colleague, or a friend, one of my goals is to listen more and learn as much as possible. Humility is extremely important in these lessons.
What does it mean to be humble?
Now, I understand that I have a beginning concept of what I have been taught about humility. I also know that part of that concept is understanding and accepting that we are not perfect. There is always opportunity for growth. Now, a quick backstory just for further reference.
Growing up, my mom has always insinuated (and just straight up told me) that I was vain. There's been a running joke (maybe I'm the only one laughing) with gifts from me. I started getting my family members picture frames filled with pictures of me for birthdays and holidays. That has evolved into gifting coffee mugs with my face on them. So, a frequent thought of mine: is it possible I can be vain and humble at the same time, maybe? I'd like to think so because I still love giving people the gift of my face.
Okay, moving along from that slight tangent (which I meant to use as a reference to my imperfections)...
Ningozis has gotten into the wondering and question-asking phase (okay, he's been in that phase but now I'm at home with him more so I'm being asked the questions). The questions have become more complicated and in-depth. Yesterday, a few of his questions were how our bodies move and how our food is digested. I stood there and first of all - not being a scientist and not paying enough attention in high school science really hindered my ability to answer that question, even if I felt the urge. But, second of all:
I don't want to answer those questions.
That doesn't mean I'd rather ignore my child and let him sit there holding all of these unanswered questions in his mind. But maybe, just maybe, I want him to stay curious and not be provided with automatic answers.
Another example: this summer we were driving down the highway to my parent's house. Passing multiple fields in Wisconsin around July/August time usually means seeing hay bails scattered throughout. Ningozis stares out the window and then turns to me and asks how they make the hay bales. Now, growing up with close farmer friends and having horses, I watched this operation annually. I could've sat and explained the beginning-to-end process to him and he would've listened and probably retained the main concept, therefor knowing exactly how hay bales are made.
Now, would that have been bad if I would've done that? Gaawiin. I think that it's something a lot of caregivers may do, meaning very well. But, what did I do instead? I reflected that question back to him, asking him what he thought. He proceeded to tell me that they probably grew out of the ground like that because they stay in the same spot. Could I have told him he was wrong and explained what actually happens to make hay bales? Definitely. Did I? Absolutely not. I let him know that his analogy made sense and that I understood where he was coming from. I also challenged him to watch the hay bales throughout the season and maybe what is happening in different fields.
So what did I accomplish during this and why do I find this important? I believe:
I left the curiosity there.
I did not provide the answer.
I prompted further thinking (and even autonomy in his own thinking).
Disclaimer: I will also share that I believe in the importance of teachings and hearing stories from elders and learning through those stories. So, don't get it twisted that I believe those things should not be happening. Trust me, I am passionate about them happening even more now than ever. What I am trying to get at is the urge that adults seem to have to provide the answers to children instantly.
As an adult, when I ask questions sometimes I'm not looking for a specific answer. Sometimes I'm looking for support in the thinking process, so why should children be any different?
I am here to challenge you: if you are around kids (or even other adults): don't supply instant answers. Leave some wonder and curiosity there. Let people (including children) think for themselves and just be present for the growth.
Let's practice humility and support autonomy in the thought process. We will never have all the answers (I like to believe), so let's make that known. We are all learning constantly and it's important for the tiny humans around us to know that. We make mistakes daily and we can use those as opportunities for growth. Chances are children (and humans, in general) will be less intimidated and more inclined to want to learn alongside us. It's powerful when you ask what other's think and when you validate their thoughts and feelings.
Going along with the idea of humility. I did not INVENT this way of thinking. So many different people and resources throughout the years have impacted my thought process on this particular subject.
My college science inquiry class really stressed the importance of letting students experiment themselves. Letting them develop their own hypotheses. Allowing them to make mistakes and try again without interruption.
I used this just the other day with Ningozis. On one of his zoom calls, they did one of those baking soda/vinegar experiments. Now, being virtual, the teacher did the activity asking questions to prompt thinking along the way and the children watched and guessed. In my ideal classroom - I would have each kid have their own materials and not give them any instruction (what-what?). Allow them to make mistakes and honor that struggle.
So, what did we do when he got off his zoom? Of course, he scoured the kitchen to find materials to replicate the experiment. As I assisted him setting up the materials, he waited for my instruction. I stared right back and him and encouraged him to begin. I watched him recall in his own way and then figure it out. As he did so, I said little and let him drive the conversation. He asked questions and then immediately answered them himself while he experimented. Seeing the empowerment on his face and in his body language was enough to confirm that this is how I wanted all people to feel after they ask any kind of question.
Going through Filial therapy with Ningozis also really had an impact on how I want to talk to my children, and any children (again, can also apply to adults) that I come across. The therapist taught me and Alexander strategies of play therapy. A lot of it had to do with reflecting and not answering questions. During that time, I learned so much about not only Ningozis, but myself as well. I was wanting to answer his questions, I wanted to help him when he struggled, I ached to praise him when he did well. But, watching as I did the therapy-suggested reactions and reflections really flipped a switch in my brain. Maybe this is what more people need, to not be provided direct help or answers, but to be supported throughout their journey.
Miigwech bizindawiyeg! As always, reach out if you want to further this discussion or have any questions, daga!