Busy Fingers, Happy Hearts
May 1, 1998
We've all said it at one time
or another: "I wish I were two and know what I know now." Well,
if you paid attention to reports during Early Childhood Education
Week, then you learned you actually knew at age two what you know
now.
My
daughter, Nancy, has one of those rare slices of cake you can
eat and have, too. Her degree is in Early Childhood Development,
she directs a center in her chosen field and can take her children
to work.
Of course, I miss out on being able to pass along all I learned
raising seven children. (I don't suggest to someone with a diploma
on the wall.) Naturally, we laugh when my hands-on experiences
appear chapter and verse in her university textbooks. I called
my first baby my experimental model. She literally uses her first
born as her experimental model to prove her hypotheses.
When Jake was a few months old, drooling and peering over the
edge of the bed toward some colorful toys on the floor, Nancy
said: "Do you think he has object permanence at this age?" I provided
the suitably furrowed brow and pensive expression to suggest deep
thought before answering the question. I really wondered what
she was talking about.
Luckily, like me, she left no pause and continued on saying, "I
mean, if I quietly remove all those toys from the floor and he
looks again, will he wonder where they went?"
"I
believe he will," I said. (Wouldn't he? I pondered.) So, I confine
my advice to things she never learned in books -- like how to
conceal those last non-contagious scabs of chicken pox before
taking him to the mall. Or, when to put down the book and pick
up the baby!
She tells me all about this object permanence, and the need to
be age appropriate (for toys, books, food), opportunities as well
as for discovery and building understanding (of self, others,
the world), and, naturally, "academic" skills. My grandmotherly
interactions are supposed to generate enthusiasm and appeal. I
said: "How do I do that, Nancy?" She shrugged and said: "Just
be yourself." Well, I think I can do that!
Just as they learned in medicine that children are not just short
adults, so do they now understand that learning begins long before
verbal and motor skills are developed. Until a month ago, that
would have been a ho-hum bit of information for me. Verbal skills,
motor skills -- they just happen, I would have continued thinking,
at a time appropriate for that child.
Jake's sister Kelsey is 16 months old. She's in the toddler's
room at the learning center (God forbid I should call it daycare!)
where one of the other pre-age-two children is hearing impaired.
Nancy hired a teacher of American Sign Language to instruct all
the classes at the center to communicate in ASL. Unfortunately,
nobody told me.
Nancy, Jim and the kids vacationing for Easter with us, were off
to hunt eggs with Jake, leaving Kelsey with me. She nibbled Lucky
Charms as we warmed up to each other after three months apart.
I asked if she wanted more, smiling and shaking the box, for whatever
reason we shake boxes to suggest a second helping.
She responded with a blank stare. She was doing something funny
with her fingers but looking me straight in the eye. Her fingertips
were tapping each other, palms down, over and over. "Kelsey, do
you want more?" (What is she, deaf? Why isn't she answering me?
Surely she can indicate yes and no at this age.) I was bobbing
my head yes, yes, yes, to give her the hint and she tapped her
fingers faster and faster. (Now, she's thinking: What is she deaf?
I'm signing more, more, more.)
So, without a visual response from my pre-speech granddaughter,
I started to put the box away. She my name, "MeMe, MeMe," and
I knew she wanted more. For the rest of the day, we just spoke
in a poorly-played game of charades. She made gestures, I made
guesses. I played the time-honored game of peek-a-boo by tossing
a little blanket over her head. If I expected her to come up smiling,
I had another think coming. Her look said: "MeMe, get a life,"
but her hands -- the side of the right slicing into the palm of
the left, distinctly said: "Stop it." Of course, she's always
smiling, but peek-a-boo isn't her game.
She played with her developmentally-appropriate bendable Rugrats,
occasionally looked at me winsomely, and tried again to communicate
a gesture I just couldn't interpret. She would put her hands to
each side of her face and stroke an invisible mustache. I thought
hard, but I just didn't get it.
Nancy, Jim and Jake came in burdened with eggs in every color
-- and the admonition not to eat the eggs because of salmonella.
(When will custom catch up with scientific evidence?)
When Nancy asked Kelsey if she had a good time with MeMe, she
toddled over, pulled at my shirt, and said: "MeMe," the way any
16-month old would to show that she knew who MeMe is. Then, she
put her hands to her face in that indecipherable gesture.
"Mom,"
Nancy asked, "where's the cat?"
"In
the garage, why?"
"Kelsey's
asking," she said. "Didn't you see her make a whisker face?"
It was then that the story of the center and the instruction in
ASL came out. I wanted to learn more and more and the signs, symbols
and fingers flew as we asked Kelsey to sign this and sign that.
I was communicating with a child whose scant verbal skills were
being augmented by this wonderful tool.
When my babies were that age, we would dance up and down and applaud
if they correctly found the nose on their faces. And if they managed
to say where their "other" ear was, well, Einstein, move over!
These children don't join their classmate in her silent world;
their teachers speak and sign simultaneously. I held both Kelsey
and Pearl the cat on my lap and said: "kit-tee." Kelsey stroked
the cat and said: "kit-tee." The kid's bi-lingual. Four-year old
Jake piped up with: "In Spanish, you say 'gato' for cat." I'm
so impressed.
Time was when keeping a baby warm and dry, fed and rocked, played
with and read to was more than enough to assure the child was
in good hands -- whether those of a parent or a hired care giver.
If there were a loser in the separation when both parents had
to work, it was assumed to be the mother, dragging herself away
from nurturing instincts to add to family income and provide a
brighter future. As long as the baby had all those fed and dry
things, he would thrive. That's what we thought, and, basically,
that is what is being done in the majority of families today.
We're learning now that long before verbal and motor skills develop,
cognitive skills are being honed. Tapping into them is simple
and working parents now expect their children to have learning
experiences while they're with childcare providers.
Yet, today, CNN reports that the turnover of these workers is
extraordinarily high and wages are exceptionally low. Most workers
stay no longer than five years and earn less than $13,000 a year.
Word will get around. The need for earlier growth experience will
create a demand for it to begin sooner for all children. I suspect
the tide will turn.
When the weekend was over, I stood on the steps waving goodbye.
Jim flashed the lights, goodbye; Nancy waved, goodbye; Jake pressed
his nose against the window making a funny face as his goodbye,
while Kelsey poked her head up from the recesses of her carseat
and signed: "I love you."
That was heart-tugging. It was a proud moment when, using my new
skill, I adjusted my fingers into a language she could understand.
"I love you," I signed back.
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