just love?

The unreader reads firmly that he does not need to take a book in his hands. Another thing is a pedagogically illiterate person, even the most educated of us, the most cultured. He usually does not suspect that something is wrong with him, because if he does not get along with the children, then always, he thinks, there are also guilty - the children themselves. It is not necessary, probably, to explain to parents how to bring up their children - each one does by his own nature and experience, by the only combination of maternal pedagogy with his father, which of itself turns out in the family, like the combination of two sets of genes in a child. We must, apparently, just teach fathers and mothers the art of educating their children, to train, not for long, but systematically. Do not teach technology, not methods, but expand the range of ideas about upbringing, explain how the child's upbringing process goes, what it depends on, what to fear, and what not. Persuasion comes from understanding, and where persuasion - there is a feeling;the feeling that brings up, or rather - it is the feeling that brings up.

He is a kindergarten, and moreover from honest. On the question of favorite food answers: "Cutlets, compote, potatoes and more pasta."

Today at home for breakfast pasta. He pokes his fork lazily, sketched around the plate. In the garden, he was not allowed to do that, but on Sunday he shows himself that he is a free man. As he wants, he eats. Some teachers advise to put children under five years at a separate table, because not everyone can stand when a plate is pulled in a bowl, but it is also impossible to have an endless breakfast: "Eat more carefully! Now you'll shloploshch! "

Plant it separately - he will dig for a year, and I'm in a hurry. And in order not to spoil the boy's Sunday morning with remarks, I'm starting a speech about Uncle Seryozha, my new acquaintance - he is a computer designer and a fairy-tale writer. We have been waiting for him for a long time, and today he will come to us for the first time. But the boy is determined to do everything in defiance.

- I do not want Uncle Sergei to come, - he suddenly declares, examining the macaroni in the light.

- Why?

Thought. After a while you will find the reason. Found:

- Because we are cramped. We have such small rooms.

And really not mansions, but still Uncle Sergei somehow fit. I wanted to say: "Do not be silly!" - He restrained himself, deciding that this was not stupid. Go, come up with such an extraordinary argument!

- But we agreed, - I object. - Everything should be honest.

He swallowed the pasta and thoughtfully said:

- I hate you.

It seems obvious: we must love children, we just need to love children. Listen to your heart, it will not let you down!

Let me down, still how can fail. .. Memory of feelings is the most ancient memory. Thoughts can be new every day, and feelings develop, are brought up, mature and remain for centuries, otherwise we would have long ago forgotten Homer and Shakespeare. Our sense of love for children developed at a time when the father and mother did not do much about the life and care of the child. In former times and in wealthy families, and in the poor, and in the city, and in the peasants - everywhere someone helped his mother. Or she had many children( and, therefore, had helpers), or, at worst, the children grew like grass. In the village, not the family raised a child, but the whole world raised it - grew up in full view of everyone.

Now life and family education have fallen on the shoulders of parents or even one mother. But caring for a child requires such concentration, tension, which only the most talented of us can stand. For all these tasty breakfasts, pasta, fees for a walk, love is lost, and by packing a two-year-old boy, you can hate it. Love, all-powerful in verse, songs and operas, love that can move mountains, sometimes backs down before the childhood habit of picking in the nose. At the trolleybus stop, my mother says to her little daughter: "To cut you or guess yourself?" - the girl raised her finger to her nose. You think - "Embed"!

Ask your mother - she is sure she adores the girl, because she spends so much energy on her! But she does not stroke her daughter, does not sing to her songs, and if she reads books - in a strict voice, "for development," so that the dearest Winnie the Pooh is not happy with the girl. I'm not now about easing a woman's domestic work, not about the production of washing machines and powders. I'm about to understand the insidiousness of my heart, to know about the traps waiting for us on the roads of education, so as not to fall into them, do not blame ourselves, do not blame the children, but in the conditions that exist, still try to help your heart, still love the child - maybe, to the detriment of caring for him. Otherwise, he grows full of stomach, but hungry with soul and spirit.

The education of one or two children, and even in the city with its dangers, can not but produce blind fear for the child. Well, love is always connected with fear for a loved one, love and fear on one trunk grow. Pushkin: this is described beautifully in Boris Godunov, in the monologue of the Pretender, which opens the stage at the fountain, does the Pretender Marina love or fear? He can not understand! But here is a phenomenon that is not new in fact, but new in its prevalence: fear for children does not just accompany love to them, but also displaces it - and yet it is issued and accepted for love! Mom seems that if she is afraid for her daughter or her son( almost dies, when half an hour is not at home), then she loves. Fear seems to her a proof of love. In fact, fear is not love, not love - jealousy. Love is a liberating, inspiring sense of a person, not oppression. Love is "Go!" And not "Stop!"

In former times, the heart of the mother learned to love, when the children she grew a lot. The death of the baby was a great grief, but there were other children. Now a baby is often alone, like a light in a window. In the famous Emile Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the educator agreed to take care of the boy, provided that he would not be responsible for his life. The modern reader shudders: that is, how is it? But if you are constantly afraid, it is difficult to grow a man.

You should know all this! Otherwise, my mother unwittingly becomes a despot, and the child can not breathe, or gasp. A little - cause for her "ambulance".Education with the help of "first aid" - a disgusting kind of education, exploitation of the most noble children's feelings. It is better punishment - sooner or later the child will rebel and get rid of it. And against my mother: "You know how worried I am for you!" "Do you want to kill me?" - how do you rebel against it? All feelings are upside down, all perverted, carved, and the soul of the child is dumped. A mother, meanwhile, sincerely loves!

"I hate you!" He told me at the table that Sunday morning.

Everything was - this has not happened yet."So," I say to myself, "it's okay. Heard somewhere. In kindergarten and not hear this. "To be offended? But I'm not insulted, I love the boy, he does not offend me for anything. Pretend to be offended from pedagogical considerations? Pure stupidity. Turn everything into a joke? But he does not mind jokes, he hates! And the quietest of all his serious voices, I'm wondering why he hates me. The purest seriousness and equanimity is what I need in my voice. It seems that he succeeded, as he explains in a businesslike way:

- Because you want Uncle Sergei to come, but I do not want.

Constant "I want", "I do not want" annoy me, but five-year-olds are made of these "I want".They will grow older - pass, and pull back and teach - even more dangerous. I saw children who, at the age of five, were not taught to say "I want to," but at 15 they grabbed my head: "He does not want anything! He is not interested in anything! ", And in 25 they were horrified:" He does not need anything in his life! "

- And we'll meet him in the yard, Uncle Sergei, - I managed to think of it. - If we are cramped, we will wait in the courtyard.

His Majesty agreed to such a step. I feel happy. What is there to do? Who will tell you what to do in such cases? Or even more difficult: who will say what I should do and say I am what I am? I am sure of one thing: I did not strengthen the accidentally flared up evil in the boy's soul, and it evaporated. I won. Not a boy, no! Defeated evil. This morning in the world of evil, one atom less than it could have been.

"I love - then I wish him well."At first, probably, it was, but let's look: more often than not, we see before us the wrong child, who is, with all its imperfections and imperfections, and the other, perfect! And we do not care about this boy, but about another, which in the world is not and probably will not be. Mom, wrapping the baby in the first diaper, is already thinking: how would it wrap it up so that in the future. .. he entered the institute?

- And what will grow of you?- under this accompaniment almost all children live, although absolutely no one knows in what connection the current shortcomings of the child with his future merits are and vice versa. Assuming that if a kid goes to sleep later, he will develop a bad habit of not going to bed, as well as a habit of disobedience, and he will grow up as a parasite - to compose the entire chain of alleged causes and consequences - pure absurdity, pure fantasyraging sense of responsibility, again taken for love.

A woman sits two months before birth and weeps bitterly. What?

- Yeah, - sobs, - what if the boy is there?

- So what? What's wrong with that?

- Yeah, - she continues to cry, - ma-boy! Do the boys know what? There will be cats to torment!

Where is that little villain not yet born? Where is the cat a victim? And tears are today's, and grief is real. And the person presses the person of sense of responsibility, unbearable, unusual( never before it was necessary to it for anybody to answer seriously!).From all sides the future mother hears all sorts of horrors, and when a baby is born, everything will seem as if she must constantly "do something", "take action", or else it will be too late, otherwise what will grow out of him! Calls for parental responsibility often lead to a result that is directly opposite to the one we desire. To irresponsible parents( there are many of them) these appeals usually do not reach, but in people with a sense of responsibility it, this feeling, under the influence of gloomy propaganda, grows so much that it sometimes suppresses common sense and all other feelings, includinglove. The same measure can go for the benefit of the child, and to his detriment. If I sit next to a second grader and help him to do homework, it's one thing. And if I sit and poke a finger in the notebook: "Learn, dumbass! What will grow out of you? "Is quite another. The child does not bring up help, but that for help, with what sense we undertake to help - with love or from the consciousness of duty alone.

They began to write: here is a woman who works all her life in her own kitchen garden, the old one is already sick, but she continues to struggle - she's a hard worker! And her daughter - all in gold, and her skirt is five palms above her knees( counted), and her ears are not washed( they looked into her ears), and she does not want to work. Accuse, of course, my mother - but in what? Blind, unreasonable love - from her, like, all the troubles are coming.

However, if your mother accustom her daughter to work, she refuses to do everything to her, keep her in the house, as in a monastery - the result would not be better, if not worse.

In search of reasons why even mother's love sometimes goes to the detriment of children, we, in my opinion, forget about the simplest explanations. In order for good children to grow up, hardworking and respecting everything that is valuable and precious to us, it is not necessary to love them passionately, whether blind or intelligent. And it does not matter whether children are denied something, in everything or in anything they do not refuse. And even, frightfully to say, it is not necessary at all that children from small years are torn in the garden, imitating their parents. But it is necessary, it is necessary that at least one of two parents or four grandparents - at least one!- loved people. Only this love for people is transmitted to children, it makes them kind and sympathetic, only it has pedagogical power - unlike the love of the child, which in itself, contrary to what they write, say and think, does not have any educational power. The mother's love for the child raises him, makes him strong, self-confident only in so far as it expresses a mother's love for all people. Otherwise, the mother's love depresses the child.

Yes, just love, but not to your child, and not to children, but to all people, including children, and to your children in particular - here the root is also a mystery. Family pedagogy - science is strict and difficult, and it is not possible to talk about raising children in the family at the level of a "round table" or a debate in the club: "What do you think about. .?I think. .. "It's interesting to know who and what thinks, but to know how it really is?

And in fact, take any family where good children have grown up, and you will find that there was someone in this house who loved people.

. .. Uncle Sergei still came to visit us, came on a bike of outlandish brand and coloring. He told the children in the yard a fairy tale about how a policeman and a spider were friends, and how they bought a live flying pillow on the bird market, he gave oranges to children, after cutting out a merry or sad mug on each. And in the evening, going to bed, the boy said that he was very fond of Uncle Sergei. I felt jealous, but suppressed it. In the final analysis, it is not even necessary that he, the boy, should love his parents. There is also unrequited love, one must be ready for this. If only he loved someone! Was able to love! After all, not the one who is brought up, who is loved, but the one who loves.

A thin stem of childlike love - to parents, to people, to somebody - that's what everything in the world grows from. Think about it, and you will agree with this seemingly strange statement.