 |
Being a child meant being told what to do, having all of
my fun snatched away before my little hands were able to touch and grab
on, and waiting for the day Mommy and Daddy would allow me to
participate in a desired activity or maybe do it all by myself. Being a
child also meant coping with two ‘big people’ who removed anything and
everything that might perhaps prove to be interesting to my senses and
entertaining to my probing little fingers, anything and everything that
might perhaps taste good in my eager little mouth. Now, if you ask me,
that was cruel. They put me on the floor to crawl around, explore and
maybe have some fun, but they took away all the good stuff. So I sat
there on the rug for a moment, smelling the pet smells that rose up from
the carpet, and began to cry. (Gwen)
I am 8 years old and at camp, thousands and thousands of
miles away from my nice warm bed at home in Delaware. I have been up for
hours and I can’t sleep. My sleeping bag smells like the attic, my nose
is frozen, I hear noises outside, it’s dark, someone is snoring, and I
have to go to the bathroom and am scared to wake the counselor up. Don’t
Mom and Dad love me anymore? How could they do this to me? (Mary)
Adults may offer many and compelling reasons moral,
religious, educational, safety-related, practical, and personal — for
controlling children’s activities, even in the face of children’s
objections. Nonetheless, their control may, for children, serve as occasions
for the little trials of childhood. Stories from my informants describe
children’s lack of control over many aspects of activities: being prevented
from taking part in desired ones, being interrupted, told how to
undertake them, required to engage in unwanted ones, and finding desired
activities contingent upon good’ behavior. The following story eloquently
illustrates the vicissitudes of adults’ control.
When I was 12 years old, I wanted to sign up for
cheer-leading but my parents said they did not have the extra money.
They did have the money to sign my brother Tom up for football though. I
wanted to take flute lessons. My mother said, ‘What do you want to do
that for?’ Tom later took drum lessons and Phil now takes guitar and
piano. My father did find the money to sign me up, without my consent,
for basketball and soccer. Sports were important to him. I wasn’t
aggressive, hated competition. He would say ‘If you’d only try harder.
You have the potential.’ I tried to tell him how much I hated sports,
especially when I was the only girl on the team. He just didn’t listen.
(Linda)
For whose good are activities urged upon children?
The year I was 10 I might as well have had a job because
I was always being driven to some other activity. Didn’t my parents know
kids just like to sit around and do nothing some of the time? On Mondays
it was gymnastics lessons, on Tuesdays it was guitar lessons, Wednesdays
were swim day, Thursdays were Girl Scouts, Fridays were art class, and
Saturday mornings I played basketball. All I wanted to do was play the
piano. I don’t want to do all these things, I am not a superkid, I am
just a kid who wants to play the piano. (Mary)
To claim that activities are urged upon children for their
own good’ is to obscure children’s experiences as well as other possible
answers, e.g., to meet community expectations, for parents to present
themselves as good parents, or for children to meet parental standards, even
those for which they may not be suited.
The extent of children’s lack of control is demonstrated when their
participation in desired activities is contingent on other behavior chosen
by adults.
I remember numerous times that I was told I could go
over my friend’s house or stay up late if I was good. This threat was
constantly held over my head. Any time I stepped out of line my parents
would quickly remind me how they held the strings so I had best get my
act together soon if I wanted these privileges’. (Holly)
Children’s activities thus take on the character not of
rights but of privileges. |
 |
