October in corporate environments were hectic for different reasons (buckling down towards year-end goals, planning for the next year’s goals, keeping an eye on the market for seasonal trends prior to holidays, elections, and whatever the rest of the world wants to do.)
October in schools is hectic for different reasons, as I am coming to learn.
We have settled into the rigors of the curriculum, but the children are distracted with a hundred promises of candy, halloween, field trips, fund-raising and all the rest of it. “That’s the nature of it. “ I hear veteran teachers sigh in the staff room as they know in the midst of all this activity and excitement is also the expectation to have the report cards ready.
Candy Marches & Spirit Weeks
So, they march on bravely inducing the children to take on fractions to gain a candy salad on Halloween, or to answer a tough question with the promise of a small halloween treat from the treat bag.
The children, for their part, play along with everything. It really is fun to watch them come to school with ridiculous hair-dos for spirit week, lounge in pajamas, play bingo with math, create puzzles with social studies, and do science experiments. Somehow, the teachers make learning happen through it all, as I learnt on our field trip.
Museum Visits
We had been to the Oakland Museum to catch a live performance on the Dia Dos Los Meurtos (Day of the Dead). It was a wonderful performance with the artists calling on the children from the different schools to come and participate in the program on stage too.
Afterwards, we were free to explore the museum’s history, art, and natural history sections.
The boys seemed inordinately interested in spinning their fortune wheel during the California Gold Rush and seeing what they’d get.
“Man! I die of cholera!”
“I want to strike rich!”
Some of the boys were most enamored by the bean-bags near the entrance of every floor. They begged to flop on it from various vantage points and tried to see the world from there (upside down, sideways). I tried telling them that the bean-bags weren’t actually exhibits and were only meant for a short respite after roaming the remaining sections. But they good-naturedly ignored this.
We bundled them all up and came back to school only to buckle up for non-stop Halloween fun today.
Learning Goals
I have always respected good teachers, and having a close view to how they do it all has only increased that feeling. They try their best, keep learning fun and alive, and hope it all sticks. Sometimes, it does, sometimes..well, the children only want to play with the bean-bags.
The son flopped on the bed, and gave me a commiserating look. I had a harried look on my face. I had just come back from university after a full day of teaching, and was surrounded by my course materials, some student books for grading, and looked like a demented owl looking for her sunglasses.
“Looking for your glasses or phone?” He said astutely, and I felt a little laugh gurgled up at that. He was right – I was always looking for one or the other. Talk about the joys of aging in a digital age.
Read Something?
“Well – Amma. How about I read you something while you look for whatever it is this time?”
I mumbled and groaned at the same time. “I would love that, but don’t you have work to do?” I asked him. It was 10 p.m. on a week-day night and most nights, he is busier than I am. High schoolers.
“I do….but let’s do this.”, he said, and picked up the book, My School Stinks.
I rolled at my eyes at his choice of book. I had picked it up from the library earlier that week, but still.
It is truly a remarkable book. I love how children always astonish us. They have the ability to take something that unreal, know it is preposterous and go ahead to enjoy the nonsensical whimsical tales anyway.
It starts off with
My desk mate STINKS, my locker buddy bites, and my teacher is UNBEARABLE.
I told Mom my classmates are WIL ANIMALS, but she said ALL little kids are wild animals. I think I’m going to be sick tomorrow.
The book carries on this vein, slowly turning our expectations and sentiments towards friendship on its axis, rotating it, reflecting it, and giving us a hilarious experience anyway. It turns out the boy was right – the school was full of wild animals – real animals and the family just drops him off and picks him up everyday without realizing that their son’s best friend could be a crocodile.
Well ?
The son & I cackled at the book, and I asked him. “Well – any wild animals in your school, my man?” And he responded with dead pan humor, “Of course!”
Then he went on to relate a totally hilarious and grossly exaggerated tale of the red hawk that made its home in the rafters of the school one time, and all the drama that ensued.
I told him about the time some child tried to flush a tree branch down the toilet and we each went back to our respective tasks with a smile on our faces.
One evening, I trudged up the hill to my classroom. It was after a long day of teaching, and I had spent a hot hour commuting to the university for my teaching credential lessons. The evening’s session was on learning to teach science. It is one of my favorite classes, but I did not envy our professor who had to infuse engagement and learning in a bunch wannabe-teachers after we had sent the whole day and week teaching. She is an excellent educator and never shies away from the task though. Somehow, she ends up making us feel invigorated and inspired to teach science by the time we leave, and that is noteworthy in and of itself.
Really, I am glad some people chose to develop others as teachers, and are so generous with their time and talents.
Moody and Muggy – like Venus?
This class, she chose to have a guest educator come in, and the lesson they had planned will stay with me for a long time. She had us answer a question related to our solar system as we walked in. She asked us which planet’s moods matched our own. Hot and muggy like Venus, or dealing with too many moons like Saturn.
Mercury: swift orbit – cratered surface
Venus: scorching heat – thick clouds
Earth: liquid water – teeming life
Mars: red dust – massive volcanoes
Jupiter: big red spot– swirling storms
Saturn: beautiful rings – gas giant
Uranus: tilted axis – ice giant
Neptune: supersonic winds – deep blue
It was an interesting exercise and she soon solicited a few responses. Some felt they could be like Uranus or Neptune just to freeze or pause for a moment, or maybe just to escape the heat of the past week.
A giant step is ?
Soon afterwards, she led us outside to the sprawling campus grounds overlooking the bay. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, and she said a little walk might do us all a little good. We agreed and off we went. She set up a traffic cone in one spot and called it the sun. Then, she had us estimate the number of steps we would have to take if the scale was : one giant step~~ 10 million kilometers.
We guessed and took the steps placing the cones as we went. We only went up to Saturn, but it was enough to get us out of our heads, and into an expansive space. A place to let go of our daily worries and revel in the grand universe we belong to.
A simple search gives us this, but walking outside and acting silly with our classmates as we took giant steps never teaches us things the way a textbook or video does.
If 1 step = 10 million km, here is the step-by-step distance from the Sun out through the solar system (rounded to the nearest whole step):
Sun to Mercury: 6 steps (~58 million km) Mercury to Venus: 5 steps (~50 million km) Venus to Earth: 4 steps (~41 million km) Earth to Mars: 8 steps (~78 million km) Mars to Jupiter: 55 steps (~550 million km) Jupiter to Saturn: 65 steps (~646 million km) Saturn to Uranus: 143 steps (~1.43 billion km) Uranus to Neptune: 165 steps (~1.65 billion km) Neptune to Pluto: 140 steps (~1.40 billion km)
The more I live and experience life, the more I realize how little I know.
As we headed back inside, my head was already buzzing with a dozen different activities I could do with the children with this simple activity. They would never forget scales, and the enormous universe we live in once we had tried this.Everything can be wondrous.
Where is the time?
The only problem is the classic one faced by all teachers. Where was the time? There is precious little of it given all the curriculum demands, testing requirements, standards to be met, small-group coaching, differentiated learning for different skill groups etc. Dedicated teachers try their best, and learning all that goes into running a smooth classroom, is something I am enormously grateful for.
Excerpt from Billy Collins poem:
Early People – By Billy Collins Book: Whale Day & Other Poems
“Teaching is a noble and time-honored profession, But little is known about it Because no one is allowed in the classroom Except the teacher and the students”
As we babbled our way out after the class, we were an invigorated bunch full of ideas to try out with the children, and I saw our Professor’s smile turn wider and fill her face, as we thanked her.
My mood, as I walked back to the car after a long day, matched Earth – teeming with life and ideas.
I wish I could give my own students lessons like these over time- lessons they will enjoy and remember. Even if they do not remember the specifics, it is enough if they remember feeling awe, accomplishment, sighing with understanding, and being happy to be learning.
“I wonder whether these birds have a symbiotic relationship with these goats!” I said to the husband. Both of us were gazing at the hundreds of goats grazing in the river trail.
Watching these beloved goats graze in the river trail is a gentle form of entertainment. For one thing, they are used to having an audience as they go about their business. Children and adults find them endearing creatures. There aren’t too many goatherds in the vicinity which means, their audience has no means of being bored by cattle. The goats have a captivated audience, attracted by both their behaviors and their sanguine sense of happiness.
There were a few egrets too, and they caught my fancy.
You see? These egrets don’t fancy each other’s company very much. Pretty solitary creatures they are. Yet somehow, they seem to be with the goats. Hundreds of them. They don’t seem to be eating any pests on the goats. No hitching rides on their back. Nothing of the kind, I’ve seen in documentaries of rhinos and oxpeckers, where the oxpeckers keep the rhino’s hide clear in exchange for their protection, and a free ride.
Symbiotic Commensalism
Curious, I went looking for the reasoning behind unlikely friendship. It turns out they share what is known as commensalism. One of the creatures benefits while the other is unaffected. The goats, grazing and trampling through the river-beds expose smaller creatures in their wake, which the egrets prey on.
“What is it about unlikely friendships that attract us so much?” The husband said, as we stood there for too long watching the fascinating world in front of us: Here was food in plenty for everyone, and harmoniously, the egrets and goats made their way through the day.
I shrugged but I knew I had that smile on my face: the one I get when I think of all the ways in which nature shows us about life’s simple things.
Small Boat is a small book. It is a translation of a book written in French. The book’s events are based loosely on a real life event.
The book, Small Boat by Vincent Delecroix (Author), Helen Stevenson (Translator), was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize. There are some books whose narrative voice and choice of perspective makes all the difference. Small Boat is one such book. In all of 100 pages, the book makes you think of moral dilemmas, and the apparent lack of them too.
The book is based on an incident of a boat full of refugees drowning in the British Canal a few years back. The incident happened on Nov 24th 2021. In it, a boat with 33 people capsized, and 27 people drowned at sea.
Version 1.0.0
Perspective:
Usually, the perspectives we hear or write about are the ones we hear on the news. With social media blowing things out of proportion all the time, news and ethical questions take on a new meaning. Polarization makes it hard to hear any one person’s perspective.
Small Boat approaches the night in question from the perspective of the naval officer who took the 14 phone calls from the drowning refugees. Her increasingly exasperated responses played out on the air waves and televised on loop notwithstanding, there is the ‘I didn’t ask you to leave!” echoing across the seas.
The premise is that the emergency naval officer in charge of despatching nearby ships to rescue the passengers failed in her duty, citing the boat was technically in English seas, and therefore not in her jurisdiction.
Excerpt:
“Empathy, I said to the police inspector, is an idiotic luxury indulged in by people who do nothing, and who are moved by the spectacle of suffering. Good for them. But the truth is, you can’t do both at once…My job is not to take an interest in people’s lives or to be moved by their suffering, feigned or real, it’s to fish them out of the water when I have to. I don’t want to know these people…their existence, their story, what they’ve done, or what they are worth, and especially not what drove them to be fools. All I care about is life stripped bare.”
The naval officer goes on in this vein for a few more sentences.
“Even though what I was saying was completely obvious, the police inspector looked disconcerted (or alarmed maybe?) “
The mid-section of the book pivots into the perspective of the refugee. The only one who had enough charge and coverage to make the emergency phone calls, even as their little dinghy boat filled with water. Their feet, their torsos, and then like a beacon of light, holding the phone above his head as he was pulled under by the relentless seas.
I expected the third section of the book to be from the police inspector’s perspective, but it pivoted back to the naval officer.
Dum inter homines sumus colamus humanitatem
The small book about the small boat leaves us with big questions about big topics. It reminded me of one of my favorite sayings by Seneca: As long as we are among humans, let us be humane.
What does empathy mean, and is it something that determines our humanity?
It isn’t our job to determine whether a life is worthy of being saved or not: why or why not?
Ultimately, is our work a calling? A duty? A means to an end?
How we are influenced by the world around us is never more apparent to me than when I am trying to immerse myself in another world – one not rife with human presence. Our effects, unfortunately, is omni-present as the flash floods in Nepal proved.
I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. … …
And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
William Wordsworth
But out on a nature trail surrounded by bird-song, peering above into the skies through the leaves in the branches above, is when the world feels alive. Alive in a calm, peaceful sort of way. That particular evening, there were no frenzied crows cawing or geese squawking. The goats in the riverbed near our trail seemed sanguine, munching away leisurely at the tall grasses. A great blue heron took flight and the son & I stopped to catch its magnificence, our breath catching for a minute as it flapped its wings directly overhead.
The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure:— But the least motion which they made It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The son was running, I was biking. I was already in high spirits.
When Carnations Give You Hope
The carnations given to me by a neighbor had revived in spite of the hot few days, and as the first bloom smiled at me, I felt hope stir. This plant had been given to me with the assurance that I cannot kill them. “Carnations are hardy. You can’t kill them if you tried!”, she said confidently, and I shushed her.
“Challenge accepted!” I said, laughing. I placed it in a place where I knew there would be plenty of direct sunlight and water. Just as she said. She came over to inspect it and nodded approvingly.
Just a few days later, the carnation died. It took on a pale brown color, and then withered away. My face matched the poor c plant. Never one to give up that easily, I persevered. I watered it with extra care – I hosed down the flower beds, the front yard and the back yard with extra whim on hot evenings but lost hope about the carnations.
Then, the evening I took out my bike for a ride, I peered into the flowerbed and saw the little flower. My heart soared. I have always loved carnations – their bright colors and how long they stay vibrant for being such petite flowers.
If only they knew the vibrations in the heart strings they caused!
A Whiff of Pine & A Hint of Grass
My mind flitted from topic to the next. Carnations to the hawks who sat on low twigs in the riverbed, and the inevitable sufferings that human-beings are faced with. The sun’s rays glistened across the waters I rode by. Calm, soothing.
I got off my bike and took stock of the year gone by. It was already September. How could the leaves be turning color already? Yet, here we are. I rode back, and inhaled the scent of the freshly mowed grass doused with water, and felt grounded once more. The pine trees dripped with water droplets from a rogue sprinkler, and I gazed lovingly at them clinging to the pine needles. A yearning for rain, but a lovely reminder of one of my favorite children’s books, A Whiff of Pine, A Hint of Skunk.
Lines Written in Early Spring – By William Wordsworth
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
Feelings, hopes, life, all bound together in a single whiff of wet pine and grass.
September 5th is Teacher’s Day in India. This year, I was wished by my parents and family, and I glowed with happiness. It really is a marvelous profession. The day is packed with things to do, and activities to finish, lessons to teach, and all the rest of it. But most importantly, it is filled with loving, energetic children who sometimes dance into the classroom, other times have to be coerced through a tough lesson with the promise of a treat at the end of it.
As my biological children were growing, I often heard complaints about teachers from my friends. How teachers weren’t doing enough, how their children were smart and were not being challenged enough etc etc. Having grown up in a school environmentand the child of teachers, it was interesting to see their perspectives. Like many of us do, the adults seem to have forgotten what we were capable of at every age, and the expectations from the children and teachers was especially high. We live in the Bay Area after all. A place notorious for its high expectations of its children.
But now. I am in a classroom all day long. I see what a hard job teachers are presented with everyday. There is a wide range of personalities, learning abilities, attitudes, quirks, and even motivations for coming to school. A child once confessed that the favorite part of their day was recess, and I smiled at that. How could I blame the child? After all, recess is the basis of culture, as I myself wrote. Every other place, they were being asked to do this and that. At recess, they did what they wanted. Bright sunshine, choice of playmates, choice of play, and more importantly no expectations of them. Of course they love recess!
Nothing All Day!
I can feel their excitement seep through my ears – the cheers and moans at recess are of a particularly dramatic nature. There is drama too. The cheaters at 4-square, the one who refused to take their place in line, but that rarely walked into the classroom with the children. How can one not admire that?
Sometimes it did. Thorough investigations lead to root causes. So how is a teacher meant to juggle all of that, and ensure that the children feel sufficiently stimulated, develop good behaviors and keep the parents happy? After all, the parents think the children and the teachers happily do nothing all day.
For years, when asked about school, our conversations went like this:
“How was your day?”
Good
“What did you do?”
Nothing!
Never one to let things be, I’d prod.
Ask them about sharks-and-minnows, and their friends, they’d be eloquent, their vocabularies vibrant, and their passions evident. That too, is as it should be. Our learning is safe and steady. Our passions, dramatic and vivid. As parents, we get a tiny window into their day and it is hardly fair to form our opinions based on it. Yet, what choice do we have?
Whenever I asked about what they did learn in English, or Math, or Science, or Social Studies, the answers were hardly inspiring. I can imagine the same across millions of Bay Area homes. But our children learn to read, do math, read and analyze scientific articles, learn about community and history. The growth seems gradual, yes, but it is there, and in just a few years, it is phenomenal. A child who could barely read confidently picks up books for pleasure. A child who struggled to evenly split the pizza between his siblings does so seamlessly, and tells you strange facts about caterpillars when you’re least expecting it.
The educational calendar reminds me more than ever of one of my friend’s favorite sayings: “We always over-estimate what we can do in one day and under-estimate what we can do in one year.”
I wish there was a way in which we could afford a better peek into their energetic days, but alas!
#TrForTeachers
My loving family in India sent me Happy Teacher’s Day wishes and I glowed all day. I had lost my voice teaching the previous week. But I still croaked to them excitedly and passionately about my children. The biological children rolled their eyes and said, “Ask Amma about her kids, and she doesn’t talk about us anymore. It is all about those 5th graders of hers!”
The parents laughed, and said, “It is what happens to teachers!”
My parents still receive wishes from their own students who are now adults. It always brightens their day, and they smile thinking of their days teaching.
“You aren’t just given happiness, you have to pick it up here and there all through the day.”
They told me that the Karnataka State government initiated a movement to give teachers the prefix, Tr (like doctors have Dr). What a marvelous idea?! I saw the campaign gain strength and the videos were inspiring and oh so loving. I wish the idea catches on. A simple idea, sure, but a powerful one. One of my professors in my teaching credential program also showed us video, and we all glowed.
I was excited to discuss the first two stories of Exhalation by Ted Chiang in our book club that evening. So, when I had a few minutes to myself, I decided to write up the notes on Ted Chiang’s brilliant book. I did not have the book with me, so I used AI to get me going.
Human Intelligence Vs Artificial Intelligence
It is a book of short stories, and several times, I stopped to re-read the stories to make sense of them. A hidden clue, a brilliantly woven story somehow loops backs to some reference earlier in the story. Now, when AI was giving me salient points about the story, I did not remember reading any of that. It spoke eloquently of characters I did not remember, and with so much confidence!
I had read these stories a while ago, so I still wrote down some of the things AI said, knowing fully well that it would have to be redone with human intelligence soon, faulty as it may be.
I came home, and skimmed through the stories and right enough, it had not even got the characters name right. I smiled at this almost-human folly, but the source of the error was not far to find. There wasn’t too much material on the book, and the blog post that it had relied on had it all muddled up.
I tucked it away in a corner as an example when I caution a class in the future. I also remembered a professor smiling at her own brilliance when she told us that her trick included a question that ChatGPT got wrong to see who had relied on AI instead of HI.
For those of you who are looking at truly different ways in which to stretch your modes of understanding, Exhalation is a good place to start.
The themes and universes in which each of these stories is set is different, and still somehow manages to touch human experiences of empathy, trials, love, failure, revenge – all woven through the different ways in which time is measured.
The Merchant & The Alchemist’s Gate
This one is a tale that has a very interesting narrative structure. A time portal and stories within stories. This is one of those tales where the nested tales create an interesting portal between the narrator, his stories, and the reader. Written clearly in simple language, the beauty lies in the subtle hints embedded in each level of narrative.
These are apparently called Matryoshka structures as they are similar to russian nesting dolls in thematic. I am in awe of the technique and if anyone has recommendations on multiple levels, please let me know. For those wishing to try a short story to see if his writing appeals to you, this is a good story.
Exhalation
The next story is also the title of the book. This story refers to an alternate universe in which the beings function on argon. The pressure differentials in the surrounding argon somehow seems to be the cause for their world to function as well as their own bodies.
This was an interesting story to discuss as each of us had a different understanding of the story. The protagonist is able to perform ‘brain-surgery’ on himself to examine the workings of his mind, as he is trying to figure out why time is slowing down in their universe. I do not have a proper understanding of the link between time and the brain-surgery. But I think it has to do with the fact that time slowing down is a manifestation of their brains slowing down because of the reduced pressure of the argon surrounding them and not time itself slowing down.
In any case, this story is one that when discussed in a good high school classroom moderated by a competent teacher is worth listening to.
The remaining stories proceed in the same vein. One on free will, another on nurturing online pets and robots as a method to nurture connections, and so on.
Just like AI can lead you down a wrong path when it is a path less-trodden, this book can lead you down paths forcing you to think of alternate worlds and realities in the confines of your mind.
Ursula Le Guin’s Essay on Science Fiction & Fantasy
I have been looking for several years for this essay by Ursula Le Guin on Science Fiction and Fantasy as a genre. It is not available online. I borrowed a copy of The Left Hand of Darkness in the Hainish Chronicles from the library, and there, as an introduction by the author, was this gem of the essay. There are times I wish I had an eidetic memory, and this was one of those times.
This book, too, is determined to set us thinking of alternate modes of living, societal norms etc.
However, for those looking for a good essay online on Fantasy, here is one:
Often, I find that is exactly what a good, thought-provoking piece of science-fiction does. It helps us examine where we land on certain issues – morality, reactions, acceptance, and therefore leads to ephemeral moments of examined living.
It was the first day of school. I had the First Day Jitters book read aloud to me by our professor, and was still as nervous as Ms Sarah.
All the advice from the children, fellow teachers, professors, aunts and parents who’d been teachers, friends and family rattling away merrily in my head.
Do I smile? Should I be friendly?
Strict? No nonsense?
If only the children knew! I felt like they were observing and wondering what to make of me.
Trying their luck?
I saw over the next few days how exactly they tried their luck.
“Can I sit there next to Joseph?”
“Why? What happened to your spot?”
Shrug.
“Usually no. But I’ll allow it today.” I said. I was telling the son all the ways in which they were asking me for this and that as I picked him up from his high school, and he drew in his breath sharply.
“Oooh! Rookie mistake Amma!”
I looked over at him puzzled.
“If they are asking you – they k-n-o-w it isn’t allowed! It’s why they aren’t asking the main teacher – because it will be shut down so quickly!” , he said zipping his hands through the air, and I blinked, and then laughed.
“You’re right. So initially, say no to everything?”
“Most things! You want them to like you too. And only for the first few days. After that, they’ll get used to getting directions from you.”, he said sounding sage-like.
It is true. Children are like that, aren’t they? I thought of all the little ways in which they settled inwith their new teachers.
They pushed in their chairs when they got up. Yes.Good Job.
They did that thing where they lean back on their chairs on two legs.No.We do not that. It is dangerous.
Thank you for listening.
People who do not listen are going to miss this.
Thank you for doing your classroom jobs.
Why didn’t you do your job?
The human spirit
I also saw plenty of things that warm the human spirit too. The kind of things that I hope we retain as we grow older. For instance, we played a small game to wrap up the day one day. The children partnered up with each other and played. It was a quick paced game based on reflexes and the children were quick to react.
“So how many of you didn’t win a single round?”, asked the teacher, and one of the children raised their hand. “Got to work on your reflexes buddy!” She said good-naturedly and moved on.
I watched the game with interest and smiled at the moans when they lost and the whoops of joy when they won.
At the end of the game, she asked the partners to agree on the winner between them and come for a quick treat of candy. One of the children who sat many desks away from the child who hadn’t won a single round walked around in the mayhem and shared his candy with him. No fanfare – just friendship.
The bond between them was laughter. They were able to see together the same absurdities and incongruities in things. The most trivial and unnoticeable thing to others would tickle them to death.”
For those of you who do not yet know – I am choosing, and learning to become a teacher.
A good part of learning to teach is grounded in psychology. Developmental psychology. Vygotsky, Bandura, Piaget, Gardner, Erik Erikson – they are all rattling in the brain after a fascinating few months of learning.
I have always been interested in the kinds of problems and things that occupy our lives at various stages. Even the upanishads had the 4 stages of life laid out for reference. One particular psychosocial theory resonated with me:
Erik Erikson’s 8 stages of life.
Here is a quick overview:
Basic Trust Vs Mistrust (birth – 12/18 months of age)
Generativity Vs Stagnation (Middle adulthood – parent/mentor)
Ego integrity Vs Despair (Late adulthood – retirement)
These 8 stages are largely an indicator for folks in their stages of life. For instance,
Basic trust vs mistrust: Birth – 12/18 months of age.
Largely shaped by their relationship with their caregivers, this determines how they learn to be trustful. Having stable and loving caregivers is usually key to successfully being able to form trusting relationships.
Autonomy vs Doubt: 18 months – 3 years
Most parents have experienced the ‘terrible twos’. How many perplexed parents are left wondering why their thus-far pliant child throws a tantrum for no reason? It is all about building autonomy.
I still remember this 3 year old who sat next to me on a long flight more than 2 decades ago. I was in my mid-twenties, had not yet become a mother, and always loved children. His mother, the child, and I got to chatting, and became friendly. His mother was just happy to have him talk to someone else, I think, and we hit it off.
At the airport a few hours later, this sweet boy threw himself on the floor and gave himself up to a truly fantastic tantrum with flailing arms, wailing shrieks, watery eyes – the works. I had gone to get myself some coffee, and came back to find this child making a spectacle. I crouched down, and asked him, “What are you doing?”. He looked up at me, recognition dawning on his face and smoothing out the wrinkled crying face to tell me soberly, “I am throwing a tantrum!”
How I laughed! Luckily, this seemed to break his meltdown and he became a happy child in our midst once more. I have never quite forgotten the little fellow – he must be a young man possibly doing his graduate studies or working by now.
But there you go : Autonomy
According to Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of life, I am currently in the GenerativityVs Stagnation stage of life. This is usually the stage in life when people are starting to turn their minds towards mentoring, guiding, or otherwise becoming more community-minded. I have seen many folks in my parents’ generation where the generativity did not quite happen and led to stagnation instead. But where it led to generativity,it coincided with the phase in life where wealth generation and / or philosophical musings tended to occupy their thoughts and actions. New goals, new purpose. Some drastic, and some not so much.
Starting a new career at this stage of life? Mine is drastic, I think.
I am nervous, excited and hope that this stage is both fulfilling and interesting. So that, I may when my time comes, look back upon retirement age with ego integrity instead of with regret or despair.
The Husband’s Perspective
எட்டு எட்டா மனுஷ வாழ்வை பிரிச்சுக்கோ
“I don’t about know Erik Erikson! But I know Rajinikanth’s song!”, said the husband. I laughed and vaguely remembered the song too. So, I went you-tubing to check for it, and ridiculous as the dance and visuals are, the concept only roughly matches the psychosocial stages as mentioned by Erik Erikson. Maybe the lyricist (Vairamuthu I think) started off with this, and then ran away with it.
Loosely speaking, according to the song:
The first 8 years are for playing
The second 8 for learning
The third 8 marriage & settling down
The fourth 8 children
The fifth 8 is for wealth building
The sixth 8 is for traveling and globe-trotting
The seventh 8 is for rest and ticking off your bucket list
The eighth 8 isn’t worth it according to the song. For you’ll gain no additional peace of mind.
The Daughter’s Perspective
The daughter scoffed and said, “I know Erik Erikson! It is a psychosocial theory Amma! Not a psychological one. Want to bet that there are at least a few in there who are taking this and running away with these theories and diagnosing themselves?!” At this point, she raised her hands in air quotes and continued, “Oh you know? I am just a terrible person because there was this one person when I was 1 year old who was not nice?!”
I can’t say I agreed with her, but it is always interesting to see how the 8 stages of life theories can be interpreted in 8 different ways.
So there you go, what to make of Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of life is entirely upto you. But I did find it an interesting theory to think about, especially when you look at all the people in your life – younger, older, your peers etc.
So, which stage of life are you in? And when you look back, how do you think you have fared in each stage?
