Moving forward while cherishing the pain
I am currently participating in the Certified NPO PIECES program called CITIZENSHIP FOR CHILDREN (hereinafter CforC), specifically the Mitsumeru (Observing) course. On the 22nd of last month, we had our second seminar, where we practiced reflection—something PIECES values highly—in groups of three. The process involves picking one memorable event from an interaction with a child (or a family member or acquaintance) and thinking about what the child's or one's own inner wishes might have been, while being asked questions. I wanted to write about my discoveries here, but I couldn't quite get to it, and before I knew it, it was September...
That event took place on July 18th when I participated in the Happy Soccer Class, a space where we play games while thinking about how to gather children and make sure everyone can enjoy themselves. (I wrote about this in a different context before, so please check it out here if you'd like.) At the end of the event, we played soccer with slightly different rules than usual. Instead of getting a point for scoring a goal, you got a point if the whole team could strike the same pose after scoring. I was assigned as an assistant for a team of four preschoolers and joined in the discussion about what pose to choose. Once the discussion started, the children split into a girl who kept suggesting ideas one after another like, "How about this? How about this?", a boy who said, "No, I don't want to," and two children who seemed to be smiling and having fun without really understanding what we were talking about.
While I was thinking, "Hmm, what should I do?", I was concerned about the boy. So, I started by asking him what kind of pose he thought would be good, but he said, "I don't know." Hoping he might find at least one pose he liked, I could only ask him (regarding the girl's suggestions), "How about this one? How about that one?" In the end, I couldn't provide any real support, and when the organizer came to check on us, we just went with the pose the girl happened to be doing at that moment.
While I kept asking the boy, "How about this pose?", thoughts crossed my mind that perhaps he didn't want to pose at all, or (since there was a child who seemed friendly with the opposing team) maybe he would have preferred to be on a different team. When I brought this event up to my fellow seminar students from a different perspective, the teacher also mentioned, "Maybe the child just didn't want to play soccer," "Maybe he was just throwing a tantrum," or "Maybe he didn't want to be there in the first place," and I thought that was certainly possible. At the same time, I was told, "Well, you can't really know unless you ask the person themselves," and although I didn't actually do that, it was absolutely true.
During the discussion, I had a desire to provide support that would lead to a direction everyone could agree on, and because of that, I truly wanted to ask and know. However, the thought crossed my mind that if I started asking, it might delay the proceedings or make the boy feel strangely singled out, so I didn't have the courage to ask.
I don't know what the boy's true wishes were, but when I thought about it through reflection, I felt that he wasn't just trying to be difficult, but perhaps he was signaling that he didn't like it and wanted me to notice that and do something about it.
I feel that those who have read this far have already understood, but I think I am beyond just feeling conflicted about my involvement; I am regretting it. From this experience, I realized that I wanted to be close to the child's feelings in front of me without being bound by rules myself. I also realized that this was related to an event from my own middle school days. I won't go into details, but when I was in my second year of junior high, my homeroom teacher believed some strange rumor, and for some reason, I was called in and scolded for something that wasn't even worth being blamed for. After that, even when I wrote my own thoughts in a personal journal-like thing, I was scolded... It was a shock, and I had the experience of giving up and thinking, "Forget it."
By doing the reflection, I was surprised and discovered, "Is that connected to this!?", and that's why I felt it had stayed in my heart for so long. I don't want to say that I did the same thing to the boy that was done to me, but it is a fact that I did something similar. Even though we aren't supposed to judge during reflection, I'm doing it quite a bit... So I felt down! But in the end, I love children and want to continue being involved with them, so I believe it is important to keep this experience in mind and cherish it so that I can make changes in my next actions. Next time, I hope I can find the courage to take a step closer.
I wrote about reflection this time, but the CforC program I am participating in is a program that fosters local citizenship, conducted by the Certified NPO PIECES, which has a mission to eliminate the isolation of children's hearts.
Through the fostering and empowerment of the citizenship of people involved in children's daily lives,
we are creating a foundation where flexible and proactive actions can be born for children with various backgrounds.
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https://www.pieces.tokyo/cfccover/2022-1