Once upon a time, I found myself in a peculiar situation where I encouraged my child to physically confront another kid. Yes, you read that right.
You might expect me to start with an apology or a confession about how I failed as a parent. But looking back, I think it might have been one of my more insightful moments. Here’s how it all unfolded.
When my son, whom we’ll call Max, entered pre-K, I fancied myself a modern, enlightened mom. I was armed with all the right phrases: “Think about your feelings,” “Use your words,” and “Hitting is never the answer.” Max was a sweet, gentle soul, often described by his teachers as wise beyond his years. I swelled with pride, believing I was nailing this whole parenting gig.
Fast forward a few years, and Max transitioned to a new school. Toward the end of first grade, things took a turn. I noticed his clothes coming home dirtier than ever, with grass and mud stains that suggested he was involved in some serious shenanigans. When I asked what was going on, he mentioned that a friend was “tossing him around.”
For a while, I was content with that explanation, but then everything shifted. One day, Max came home looking downcast, and I spotted a bruise on his cheek. My heart sank. “What happened?” I asked, horrified that the school hadn’t informed me.
Turns out, it was his so-called “friend” who had been shoving, hitting, and even throwing him to the ground. Things escalated to the point where this boy began shoving allergens into Max’s face, putting his health at risk. My pride as a “good mom” crumbled. Why hadn’t Max told me sooner? What happened to all my lessons about speaking up and seeking help?
Countless calls to the school were met with empty promises. The bully wasn’t disciplined, and while they assured me that staff would keep a closer eye, the behavior continued. It dawned on me that not everyone would follow the rules we believed in. Max understood this all too well; he had been silent because he felt powerless.
In an age of overprotective parenting, we often shield our kids from harsh realities, but sometimes we forget that they need to learn how to stand up for themselves. We wouldn’t tell a girl not to defend herself against inappropriate behavior; why should it be different for a boy? My well-intentioned advice had unintentionally constrained Max, preventing him from fighting back when he needed to.
That night, we had an enlightening conversation. Yes, hitting is wrong, but there are times when self-defense is necessary. I told him I would support him if he needed to protect himself. I even shared a quote from Teddy Roosevelt: “Speak softly and carry a big stick.”
The next day, when the bully tried to pick him up, Max pushed back. The surprise on the bully’s face was priceless. Max finally expressed what he had been trying to say all along: “No, I don’t want this!” Amazingly, they ended up friends, thanks to the bully’s newfound empathy—he learned that hurting others isn’t okay when you understand what it feels like.
Some may argue that children can’t discern when it’s appropriate to use force, but that’s where we come in as parents. They will stumble, and that’s part of the messy journey of life. Hitting is indeed wrong, and verbal communication should be our first choice. But sometimes, we must also remember to keep a metaphorical big stick handy—just in case.
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In summary, sometimes the best parenting moments come from unexpected places. Teaching children to advocate for themselves, while also promoting kindness, is a delicate balance that can empower them for life.