You can learn a lot from activities that ask for how you can contribute instead of what you can do. Indeed, there are many valuable lessons that I’ve gleaned throughout my experience volunteering to tutor kids at the library.
Usually, I prefer to teach middle schoolers math, because they’re at the age where schoolwork is starting to become more important in their lives and in the timeframe starting to develop a more mature perspective about the world. Because I’m old enough for them to look up to as an example, but don’t seem like a full-grown professional adult tutor, it’s much easier to give them genuine insights on approaching the problem as someone who is only a few years ahead of them. My hope is that they would be able to work out the problems themselves and ask for help when needed one-on-one, especially because most students may feel ashamed or embarrassed when they struggle with a problem in a classroom setting. But, struggle is the best way to learn.
In recent weeks, however, I was randomly assigned to younger peers who may need “assistance” for school. Since my past student wasn’t able to come for the remainder of the year (due to sports, I think), I ended up showing up and being assigned to random kids, most of whom are in elementary school. I usually let them read a book of their choice, ask them comprehension questions, and work on their pronunciation.
But today was a unique experience. I was assigned to a first-grader to work with him on a workbook, which included some math, reading, and writing. I was wrongly mistaken to assume that he would be focused. After no more than a minute, he started doing a variety of disconnected things: fidgeting with a string, flipping through the book, underlining random words in a passage, drawing dots and squares on a diagram, so on and so forth.
I tried to make an effort to bring him to focus. I convinced him to stick to completing one page, but he continued to do whatever he wanted. I tried to turn the book sideways because he had turned the book a full 90 degrees, but he shoved my hand away (a little assertive and rude). I had even asked him to read this passage starting at where my pointer finger was, but he flipped pages right onto my hand.
Admittedly, I was a little annoyed. But after several fruitless attempts of “guiding him” to focus, I instead tried to be playful and engage in whatever he was doing.
He wanted to choose some books to read, so I followed him and let him do so. He asked many questions while he read, after many of which I responded, “I don’t know, what do you think?” And when it was silent, I simply rested my head on my hand and smiled.
It was certainly awkward to cooperate with a seemingly rebellious child who wanted to do whatever he wanted (I don’t think he was reading every word of printed text). I was uneasy when I saw the other fellow volunteers who seemed to be on a roll with their kids. I guessed that I was the laziest one and could have demanded more authority.
But then I remembered that a first-grader should actually be playing instead of attending a tutoring program that their parents made them go to.
I recall that I didn’t start doing much academic work outside of school until my parents started to slightly encourage me to do some math worksheets in third or fourth grade. In first grade, I was playing with my cars, trains, Bey-blades and LEGOs every afternoon after school. I even had those good old “playdates” that lasted up until 6th grade. And I know for sure that I was not going near tutoring or extracurricular classes anytime soon. Math? No thanks. Books? Why would I read to someone I don’t even know…
The moment I stepped into my tutee’s shoes, I let him be curious. Can an ocean be a toilet? I don’t know, does the book say anything about this? What if bananas were made out of antimatter? Antimatter – explain that to me! What’s a mongoose? I don’t know (I actually didn’t and I still don’t). Asking random questions is a naive habit children have that older peers, thinking that they know much more and are wiser than these kids, often overlook and even suppress by having them do what seems “academically fit” for them.
But trust me, as a high schooler, I miss those elementary days. Back then, I could ponder a million ideas about the world. I miss that sort of curiosity – especially because that type of thinking is essential for the breakthroughs and inventions of the frontiers of science and technology. More importantly, it’s what helps children (everyone, in fact) learn quickly. And thoughts back then were creative, something that seems to get lost when we get older. Why can’t I wonder whether a square could become a circle, if dinosaurs were alive two days ago, and why there is such a thing called antivenom? As of now, it doesn’t seem natural.
And better yet, back then you wouldn’t have so many worries. As a kid, you wouldn’t have to worry about school, APs, SATs, college admissions, friends, clubs, sports, and yeah, drama. You were just a kid and you got to play.
Unfortunately, too many parents think that having their kid start early would make them academic weapons. Although that could be a trend, it also takes away much of their childhood. Any time a child could be playing with friends or their dollhouses is now replaced with endless dull, repetitive math worksheets and a list of reading/writing workbooks because the parents told them to do so. There’s no fun – it’s all grind. I certainly wouldn’t enjoy that.
I get it though – if parents are worried about their children being behind their peers, they can start encouraging them to learn outside of school – maybe one or two years before middle school. But again, it is important to remember that they’re children, and they’re naturally inclined to do what they want and become distracted. In fact, after a good, natural childhood, hard work may become easier to pick up. I believe that once kids get old enough to realize that they’re going to have to pick up schoolwork themselves (usually around middle school), they’re a lot likelier to become more independent in their studies.
Unfortunately, childhood only comes around once. And once it passes, you can’t get it back. As one of my good friends said, “youth is fleeting”. It truly is.
Parents, let your children play. They’ll thank you later for it.