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“Look at this!” I overheard a mother admonish her young children。 “This is beautiful。” “Ooh!” chimed the children。 “Isn’t it beautiful?”
And on numerous other occasions: “Watch out! This is dangerous。” “Help!” wailed the children。 “It is dangerous; very dangerous。”
So it went on; year in; year out。 “This is good; that is bad。 This is marvellous; that abominable。” The children swallowed every word she said; without ever stopping to chew; without even looking。
She could have pointed to the black kettle and told them it was white; and they would have piped in unison: “Oh yes! Very white indeed。” They were such nice; amenable children。
Watching from a distance; I sometimes felt like crying out:“For goodness’ sake; don’t believe everything you hear! That kettle isn’t white at all; it’s black! Use your eyes and see for yourselves! Rely on your own judgement!”
But of course I didn’t。 It wasn’t my place。 All I could do was hope to see the day when these children would find the wherewithal to break the bonds of their conditioning;establish a truth of their own。
They were well into their thirties before it finally happened。
I heaved a sigh of relief。
Their mother was devastated。
It is a lovely day in August; five days after my sixth birthday。
I have been sent into the garden to play。 My grandmother is lying down。 She has a pain in her chest。
It’s unusual for her to be ill。 Grandpa is the one with a weak heart。
Listlessly; I rock to and fro on the swing。 I’m feeling lonely。 I wish I had someone to play with。
Then; suddenly; I see just the person I need: my grandfather; on his way home from work; though it’s the middle of the afternoon。 “Grandpa!” I cry delightedly; “e and push me!”
His face is white and stern; as I’ve never seen it before。 “You shouldn’t be out playing;” he says gruffly; as if I was doing something I shouldn’t。
“But – ” I want to tell him that I’m only doing as I’ve been told。 “It’s going to rain;” he adds brusquely。 I look up; baffled; at the bright blue sky。 Not a cloud in sight。
“e with me!” His voice has a note of desperation。
As we walk together up the stairs; he takes my hand; holds on to it; as if he needs support。 I am gripped by a sense of foreboding。 But it will be some time before I realize that this moment represents the point where my childhood ends。
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Growing up 长大(1)
自从孩子降生那一刻起,作为父母,我们就总是希望给他们最好的。全心全意爱着他们、保护着他们,养育、安抚着他们,回应着他们提出的每一个要求。
我们应该宠爱他们多久呢?有没有那么一次,我们不去理睬他们的苦恼,让他们自己去承受一点点郁闷?或者,不去试着逗他们开心?我们为什么就不能这样做呢?
我们先不要去想,孩子们是否被剥夺了渴望、梦想他们不能得到的东西的内在需求;是否没能去体验那种得到了盼望许久的东西时的极大满足。
我们只需去想象一下让这种情况继续下去的后果:孩子们长大后,进入了成人的世界,却发现没有人会满足他的每一个要求,他们身边的每一个人都跟他有一样的想法,那就是,自己才是最重要的……
想象一下,他们由于只顾自己的需求而无法处理好与他人的关系。因为他们从来都没被教导过,要去通过修正自己的需要以满足他人……
教导你的孩子去独立生活吧——生活上独立、情感上独立、交往上独立——这是每一个为人父母的义务,且开始得越早越好。
你是这样的人吗:为你自己是谁而感到愧对父母,或者为你没能成为他们期望的人而感到抱歉?
如果是,那么你就属于那些并不少见的、工于操纵的家长的受害者。再没有什么比一个母亲或父亲让自己的孩子感到他没能达到自己的期望更容易办到的事情了。
这很符合他们的心意——尽可能地去控制孩子,减少不轨行为的发生几率,以让孩子赢得别人的认同。
如果这种“
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