A confession: I would rather be running around with the kids and getting dirty in the mud than sitting around shooting the shit with adults. Adults are boring, especially in this country. At least in most other cultures around the world, parents let their kids be kids- or more than here, at least.

The common thread running through all of my travels has been the kids I’ve met and the games we’ve played. Soccer is a global language; smiles speak a million words. Never in the rainforest village in Ecuador did I ever hear a parent chastise their child for doing something childlike. Even during the most serious of ceremonies, kids did what the pleased, poking around the podium with curiosity, walking on the “stage”, and screaming with delight as they played tag in the middle of everything. At first, I was completely taken aback by this laissez-faire approach to parenting and I mistook it for a serious lack of discipline. My strict European father would have never accepted this sort of chaos and “manque de respect” when my sister and I were growing up. He was an adult, and our father on top of that!, and we had better do exactly what he wanted without any questions, or else.

On the farm, I was delighted that the children were free to do as they please and be whomever they wanted at any given time. Guthrie liked to wear his sister’s dresses and Ember often preferred not to wear anything at all. Seeing as I spent so much time with them poking around the garden, it took me a while to figure out what was the appropriate way to deal with them. I found myself being stricter with them than their parents were, and who was I to tell them not to do anything? It was programmed in me, this need to say no, to assert my dominance as an “adult”. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that this feeling of having to “deal” with the children is the problem. Once I got over those preconceptions we have towards children, I spent the next month just being a kid alongside them, wide-eyed about the world’s wonders.

Now that I’ve gone there, I’m afraid I can’t go back. It’s just so exhausting to control a child nonstop all the time, and it’s against the very nature of childhood, so why even waste your energy trying? Unfortunately, I have recently starting working at a local daycare center in the neighborhood where I’m surrounded by wonderful, exuberant preschoolers, and enough uptight adults to make you go absolutely fucking crazy.

Now, I understand that this isn’t the pure Amazon rainforest, nor is this the utopia of an urban farm community, but really - is little Johnny going to die a violent death from using a plastic hammer on a lego? Seriously. No talking, no moving, no breathing, no jumping, no screaming, no scratching your nose - what’s the point of being a kid if you can’t do anything? Are these the kinds of kids we want to raise - a generation of citizens who are too scared to do any single thing that go beyond these rules set up for no real reason? They just make everyone involved generally unhappy and stressed. I know there are a few rebels in the bunch, but it’s sad to me that they think for a second that they’re misbehaving, when really, they’re just behaving.

Even worse than being a kid in this situation is being me in this classroom. Most of the time I feel absolutely helpless, distressed, and sad - not emotions I usually associate with hanging out with children. Often, I need more discipling than the kids, what with wanting to read to them, and play with them, and encourage independent thought in them. Yep, I must be stopped! And believe me, I get relentlessly reprimanded by the lead teacher - in a benign, repressed sort of way, of course.

I’m sorry for asking Jenny about her upcoming birthday. I didn’t realize birthdays were off-limits as a topic of discussion. (I guess some kids don’t have… birthdays?) I’m sorry that I let Stuart sit in my lap when I read him a book. I’m sorry I even dared to read him a book in the first place - I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry I gave Isabelle a squeeze when she did something cute. I’m sorry I paid any individual attention to any kid ever. Really, I shouldn’t be allowed around kids. I can’t believe I passed the background check.

I’ll probably be quitting soon; it’s pretty torturous for me to be around these precious kids and not be allowed to interact with them as I please. All I want to do is join in their silly childish ways, but that isn’t something we want to reinforce in them (fun? bad.); we should be maintaining control of the troops and and setting a good “example”. Yuck.

One last rant and then I promise I’ll shut up (for now)-

We went on a field trip to Atkins today via the PVTA and you should have seen the looks of utter bewilderment in the passengers faces. Lots of young, normal people just riding a bus, but most of them looked like they’d just seen an elephant walk a tightrope when a group of preschoolers get on board. I guess it isn’t something you see everyday, but it freaks me out that children evoke such emotions of surprise and amazement in normal people, cooing in delight over them - they’re four year olds, they’re cute, but they’re also just normal kids. This isn’t a zoo. Would you gawk at a group of elderly folks getting on a bus? The intergenerational disconnect in our society is dangerous because it distances us from people who are not like us, even if they live in the same place and lead similar lives. Could this be why people are afraid of growing old, afraid of having kids (ask any college health center what their abortions statistics are, or talk to lots of successful young people about their views on having children), and afraid why? Weren’t we just like them once? Don’t we all share this common life experience?

Bah! I’m going back to the farm, where life made much more sense. (But I really don’t appreciate the condescending tone presented in these reports - oh how cute, people living in happily in harmony with the land… So adorable. Shut up.)