Play Group

About two weeks into our time here, some friends with a young boy close to the same age of Kaia invited us to join a playgroup, commonly referred to here as a ‘school’. Children attend with their parents (always the mother, grandmother or domestic helper) for one hour, in a program that runs three times a week (usually called something exclusive like ‘mother and me’ or toddler-mother morning’, and I was looking for something like this as a good activity for us to do together as well as to see a side of everyday life in India that would certainly provide fodder for this weblog…and provide it has.

I want to say first off that the people at this school were all very nice. They treated me, not as an oddity in both culture and parenting role, but as a legitimate caretaker, which is not always the case. I want to say this because the six week experience of attending this group with Kaia was very interesting for me, both in better understanding and listening to Kaia and in following my parental instincts, which seem to be getting a bit less hazy.

This particular playgroup claims to be one of the more innovative in the city, supposedly using a curriculum that encourages children to develop a broader set of sensory skills in their development from infant to toddler to little person. Yet, something that I have learned after three months of living here is that there is often a significant gap between what the ‘packaging’ says—whether it be a restaurant claiming it has a menu of ‘global cuisine’ (read: using ketchup as a tomato sauce) or a business stating that ‘customer service is our aim’ (read: maybe we’ll answer your phone calls)—what people say and what really goes on are often two different realities. The case of the play group was no different. If you were to go off of the brochure and signage, you might think that your child would experience activities that were intentional, while cultivating their curiosity thorough their playing with simple, yet provocative toys. Well, if you did, you’d be disappointed, much like you would for getting your hopes up of actually having authentic red sauce on your pasta. At this play group about the only thing that seemed innovative was the fact that they had birds and rabbits living in the same cage, which judging from the foul odor that greeted us every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, was more out of neglect than experimentation.

Kaia is a very independent person, but he is not the type to immediately jump into a new situation, he will carefully survey the landscape, process what it going on, and then slowly acquaint himself with the various people and things. I think that it is disrespectful to thrust him into a new setting and push him to adapt before he is ready (this is especially the case with his interaction with new people). But, unfortunately, the Director of the school doesn’t share my philosophy on this, or some other important matters like how to re-direct toddler violence.

For those who know Kaia, they know that he is not an aggressive child. He is an observer and is, usually, very gentle. So, when a few boys in the school, in separate incidents, started grabbing and hitting him—mind you these are 18-22 month old children—it came as an enormous shock to both him and me. The mothers were mildly apologetic and grabbed their sons with a ‘no hitting, say you’re sorry’ shallowness that belied the probability of it being the hundredth time they’d said it. What really pushed me over the edge, however, was when Kaia was playing with some toys and a small boy walked up to him and assaulted him in a way that, were he 18 years older, would have landed him in prison.

I watched as the boy, in premeditated fashion, skipped across the room and belted little Kaia in the side of the head with his open fist from behind. Kaia was so stunned that it took a few seconds before he know what had happened and began to cry. Fortunately, it was clear to me that he was not injured, so I could calmly sooth him while the mother scolded her child and then pushed him along.

Now, I am not so naïve to think that children are not susceptible to these kinds of things, even at such a young age, but what chaps me is how adults respond to these outbursts. Grabbing the aggressor’s arm and briefly scolding him—while he harfs down his second piece of birthday cake (this is the kind of shit that they served as a ‘snack’ for these kids)—isn’t going to help redirect this child’s behavior at all. But what made this the last day of Kaia’s time at the “School for Enrichment, Education and Development” was how the Director of the school responded to my concern about this behavior, “He’s going to have to learn that this is the way it is for boys”. Even as the last words blew out of her mouth, I was gone. Alternative school, my ass. It is this kind of Social Darwinian approach to education that really turns my stomach.

This episode, however, took me to a place that I had yet to explore as a parent—the feeling of regret when you sense that you have made a poor decision for your child. Kaia never chose to attend this school, and I should have been more sensitive to the ways that he was communicating to me about going there (clinching tight to me from the time we would walk through the school gates).

But what sealed the deal for me was when a few days later I asked Kaia if he wanted to go back to school. At that moment he was occupied with a puzzle, but he looked up at me, looked me straight in the eyes and waved ‘bye-bye’. There was no doubt.

Why I Love this Time: I know that I can understand him better than anyone in the world.