Are we getting children the help they need? There is a nefarious double bind that we put children in that makes it very hard for them to be heard.
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Children should remain silent, and they are ‘good’ when they’re quiet, but ‘bad’ when they are not, because they are disturbing the adults and causing trouble. This attitude runs through the way people interact with children on every level, and yet, they seem surprised when it turns out that children have been struggling with serious medical problems, or they’ve been assaulted or abused.
The most common response is ‘well why didn’t the child say something?’ or ‘why didn’t the child talk to an adult?’ Adults constantly assure themselves that children know to go to a grownup when they are in trouble, and they even repeat that sentiment to children; you can always come to us, adults tell children, when you need help. Find a trusted adult, a teacher or a doctor or a police officer or a firefighter, and tell that adult what’s going on, and you’ll be helped, and everything will be all right.
The thing is that children do that, and the adults don’t listen. Every time a child tells an adult about something and nothing happens, that child learns that adults are liars, and that they don’t provide the promised help. Children hold up their end of the deal by reporting, sometimes at great personal risk, and they get no concrete action in return. Sometimes, the very adult people tell a child to ‘trust’ is the least reliable person; the teacher is friends with the priest who is molesting a student, the firefighter plays pool with the father who is beating a child, they don’t want to cause a scene.
Or children are accused of lying for attention because they accused the wrong person. They’re told they must be mistaken about what happened, unclear on the specifics, because there’s no way what they’re saying could be true, so and so isn’t that kind of person. A mother would never do that. He’s a respected member of the community! In their haste to close their ears to the child’s voice, adults make sure the child’s experience is utterly denied and debunked. Couldn’t be, can’t be, won’t be. The child knows not to say such things in the future, because no one is listening, because people will actively tell the child to be quiet.
Children are also told that they aren’t experiencing what they’re actually experiencing, or they’re being fussy about nothing. A child reports a pain in her leg after gym class, and she’s told to quit whining. Four months later, everyone is shocked when her metastatic bone cancer becomes unavoidably apparent. Had someone listened to her in the first place when she reported the original bone pain and said it felt different that usual, she would have been evaluated sooner. A child tells a teacher he has trouble seeing the blackboard, and the teacher dismisses it, so the child is never referred for glasses; the child struggles with math until high school, when someone finally acknowledges there’s a problem.
This attitude, that children shouldn’t be believed, puts the burden of proof on children, rather than assuming that there might be something to their statements. Some people seem to think that actually listening to children would result in a generation of hopelessly spoiled brats who know they can say anything for attention, but would that actually be the case? That assumption is rooted in the idea that children are not trustworthy, and cannot be respected. I’m having trouble understanding why adults should be viewed as inherently trustworthy and respectable, especially in light of the way we treat children.”
You get this as a teacher. Trusting what children say is not going with the grain, it is fraught with angst and doubt and professional repercussions – all which mean nothing, relatively speaking, as we’re usually talking about someone’s life.

Children should remain silent, and they are ‘good’ when they’re quiet, but ‘bad’ when they are not, because they are disturbing the adults and causing trouble. This attitude runs through the way people interact with children on every level, and yet, they seem surprised when it turns out that children have been struggling with serious medical problems, or they’ve been assaulted or abused.


2 comments
December 19, 2013 at 10:09 am
Matthew Chiglinsky
My mom always taught me that children are a source of wisdom. She let me participate in the adult conversations even though my backwards grandmother didn’t like it. Coincidentally, one time I was in a car with my grandmother and her friend, and we all got lost because they wouldn’t listen to me when I told them to make a turn. (My mom wasn’t there.) It was ironic, because I’d been that way many times. If they had only listened to me, everything would have been fine.
One time we had a dysfunctional situation in our family, and my mom let me write a sort of contract that convinced the source of that dysfunction to behave for several years. It wasn’t what I would have preferred. I wanted him gone completely, but it was interesting how much faith my mom entrusted in me at a young age.
My mom basically raised me implicitly to be an anarchist. I question all forms of authority, because they aren’t perfect and can really screw up the world if they aren’t checked.
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December 19, 2013 at 11:12 am
syrbal-labrys
I grew up in the “seen and not heard” generation; of course there was a rather implicit message that for girl children it was to continue that way in adult life, too. I was a very different kind of parent; treating my kids as human beings, this led to more negotiating and argument than my parents could have imagined—since their “hole card” was to knock me on my ass if I said something they didn’t want to answer.
Was it better? Yes. Was it perfect? No.
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