children's sense of time and a lesson learnt
Life seems to flow much more quickly than when I was a child. It is as though I can remember yesterday as the year 2003, and cannot ascertain the time that passed between as something of prominence as clearly as time seemed to pass so slowly in my childhood and it seemed I could recall moments of never believing that I would be in time to grow up, and wield responsibility, and learn all the grownup things that seemed beyond my reach at the time. But I was optimistic, I did not fret. And it came, growing up, until suddenly one realizes that it is difficult to stop the flow of time, and as my years build so does the sand seem to trickle out faster. I wonder why there is such a disparity between a child’s notion of time and a young adult’s.
One of the effects that children display of this sensation is the inability to stay still. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Perhaps it is because children have less on their minds then us, and less to do, so they can observe the feel things in acute reality. And that is partly why it is a great evil to treat a child with cruelty (like child abuse and child labor) because children are at their most sensitive. And any harsh punishment or dire circumstance can be felt more keenly by children then if subjected to adults, who are often more used to and insensate of the pain. I recall that horror movies would terrify me for a whole month after viewing them when I was a child. But now the sensation of horror movies are more easy to shake off. Because of this, I definitely support rating movies. Often we as grownups are not able to realize the impact certain movies can have on children. It is better to be safe than sorry. There are a lot of perfectly good movies and cartoons I’m sure children can benefit from. In fact, I believe that it is best not to let children watch television that much. Reading, drawing, writing, some sports and learning some instrument should be adequate for a young child past time.
I was walking home today and I thought of how I had consciously commanded myself to stop storing memories as particularly fond. I wonder at myself. Though I can now spare myself the pain of seeking something that never was – the places and instances that appear perfect in nostalgia, nor am I allowed to build new memories of fonder moments. Is it because I have commanded myself not to love moments, is it because I haven’t come across anything particularly memorable, or is it because I have stopped bearing the perception of a child, and it is the child’s memories that gives one the most acute senses of pleasure and nostalgia?
The past few days I have been at camp. It has been an exhausting experience. But besides that it was fun. It was something worth storing in one’s room of memories. It was memorable. But I do not want to relive it – yet. Maybe someday when I’m low and feeling my age in my bones I’ll start wishing for the time when I could hike for the whole day under the sun with my (also young) classmates playing activities and singing away our voices at night.
There is one particular game I want to share. We had to cross an imaginary river (in this case it was the gravel walk in the camp) on limited scraps of newspaper. The other class (there are two classes in a ‘camp’) is suppose to do anything to prevent your class from being successful: By whisking away unattended newspaper, by blocking the path…etc. Our classmates decided to carry each other across on our backs. Brave, but stupid, because on hindsight we did have enough paper to cross without resorting to carrying each other. Anyway, the camp before us had competed furiously, sprinkling water on the paper so it would stick to the path and tear easily, forming a human wall…etc. It even came to blows, bites and arguments. In our camp my class went first. At first the opposing class whisked away unattended paper with grins, but later into the game some of them started vocally saying “Let’s not take away their paper anymore. They have a difficult enough time as it is. This is no fun.” Perhaps we looked hurt and unhappy and some of us looked angry. When it came to be their turn to play none of our classmates made a move to aggrieve them. None of us wanted to take away their paper or impede them in any way. We had learnt the lesson. Instead, it was up to the camp counselor to take away their unattended paper.
This game has taught me something. If someone is going through a difficult time, it would only aggravate the situation if you attempt to goad the person into doing better by making it more difficult. What we should do is help each other. And that’s that.
One of the effects that children display of this sensation is the inability to stay still. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Perhaps it is because children have less on their minds then us, and less to do, so they can observe the feel things in acute reality. And that is partly why it is a great evil to treat a child with cruelty (like child abuse and child labor) because children are at their most sensitive. And any harsh punishment or dire circumstance can be felt more keenly by children then if subjected to adults, who are often more used to and insensate of the pain. I recall that horror movies would terrify me for a whole month after viewing them when I was a child. But now the sensation of horror movies are more easy to shake off. Because of this, I definitely support rating movies. Often we as grownups are not able to realize the impact certain movies can have on children. It is better to be safe than sorry. There are a lot of perfectly good movies and cartoons I’m sure children can benefit from. In fact, I believe that it is best not to let children watch television that much. Reading, drawing, writing, some sports and learning some instrument should be adequate for a young child past time.
I was walking home today and I thought of how I had consciously commanded myself to stop storing memories as particularly fond. I wonder at myself. Though I can now spare myself the pain of seeking something that never was – the places and instances that appear perfect in nostalgia, nor am I allowed to build new memories of fonder moments. Is it because I have commanded myself not to love moments, is it because I haven’t come across anything particularly memorable, or is it because I have stopped bearing the perception of a child, and it is the child’s memories that gives one the most acute senses of pleasure and nostalgia?
The past few days I have been at camp. It has been an exhausting experience. But besides that it was fun. It was something worth storing in one’s room of memories. It was memorable. But I do not want to relive it – yet. Maybe someday when I’m low and feeling my age in my bones I’ll start wishing for the time when I could hike for the whole day under the sun with my (also young) classmates playing activities and singing away our voices at night.
There is one particular game I want to share. We had to cross an imaginary river (in this case it was the gravel walk in the camp) on limited scraps of newspaper. The other class (there are two classes in a ‘camp’) is suppose to do anything to prevent your class from being successful: By whisking away unattended newspaper, by blocking the path…etc. Our classmates decided to carry each other across on our backs. Brave, but stupid, because on hindsight we did have enough paper to cross without resorting to carrying each other. Anyway, the camp before us had competed furiously, sprinkling water on the paper so it would stick to the path and tear easily, forming a human wall…etc. It even came to blows, bites and arguments. In our camp my class went first. At first the opposing class whisked away unattended paper with grins, but later into the game some of them started vocally saying “Let’s not take away their paper anymore. They have a difficult enough time as it is. This is no fun.” Perhaps we looked hurt and unhappy and some of us looked angry. When it came to be their turn to play none of our classmates made a move to aggrieve them. None of us wanted to take away their paper or impede them in any way. We had learnt the lesson. Instead, it was up to the camp counselor to take away their unattended paper.
This game has taught me something. If someone is going through a difficult time, it would only aggravate the situation if you attempt to goad the person into doing better by making it more difficult. What we should do is help each other. And that’s that.
posted by Mignon Chang at 6:21 AM
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