Dhamma for the Young
Venerable Kusalo, himself a father for thirteen years, looks at various ideas
in relation to offering the ideals of Buddhism to younger people and draws some
parallels between these ideals and parenting.
I regard education, in the general sense, as the equipping of a being for their
passage through life. I usually work on the basis that most of our behaviour
is learned behaviour, and that the quality of what we learn determines how well
we function in the world, i.e. the quality of our lives. Essentially, it is
the environment we are exposed to that determines our perceptions of right and
wrong and our value judgments of what is worth fighting for (and against). As
parents, and to a much lesser degree as children, there is some choice over
this ongoing exposure.
Education, in the specific sense of a systematic exposure to selected instruction,
has a value which hopefully needs no selling. An education, these days, ought
to be everyone's right by birth rather than by privilege. What does require
some thought however is the nature of the instruction that we select. This is,
in effect, the environment, or the material that we choose to expose ourselves
to. What choices do you consciously, or unconsciously, make? Unfortunately we
often just have to jump in the deep end of a `life experiment' to ascertain
the validity of our choice. However, although "tried" can't always
be followed by "and true", most traditional standards are considered
eligible for this pairing - with good reason.
For the past five years I have consciously been jumping into the life experiment
of Theravadin monasticism. Most of the principles that guide this life constitute
an excellent framework around which a harmonious society can be built. Their
essence is found summarised in the Five Precepts: non-killing (harmlessness),
non-stealing (generosity), non-adultery (fidelity), non-lying (honesty) and
non-intoxication (sobriety). They can be regarded as a minimum standard for
human behaviour, anything less being merely animal. If you add to these the
four Brahma Viharas (divine abidings) of metta (loving-kindness), karuna (compassion)
mudita (sympathetic joy) and upekkha (equanimity) you have the basic, Buddhist
social and moral platform. The Three Refuges of Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha defines
the spiritual dimension.
I am not that well read in modern child psychology and have generally formed
ideas from my own years as a parent and from just observing the parents and
the environments of `good' kids. By `good' I mean; they are basically happy
and content. They don't whinge a lot; they respect their parents' direction
and are polite to others. You will have your own criteria, but one way of achieving
a clear definition is by contemplating its opposite. This, for me, would be
the precocious child; the child that forgets, or is allowed to forget, its relationship
to others. One of the basic refrains I carry from my childhood is "Equal
responsibilities equals equal rights"; when I pay for the groceries, I
get to choose the flavour of the ice-cream, unless I have contributed in some
other, usually small, way to the fabric of the household.
Monastic life has a very clear hierarchy and there is a relaxed comfort in being
able to function, in a group, from a "knowing of one's place." I have
lived many years of my (past) life in hedonistic, egalitarian anarchy and, although
there were other factors, I see that an excess of independence, so-called freedom,
generally only led me to alienation, isolation and depression. Human beings
are social beings and, although they are individuals, they are not independent.
Several principles are implied here in relation to producing well-balanced,
socially integrated kids through education. One of the central elements is humility,
being the foundation of courtesy, cooperation, tolerance and harmony in all
forms of communion. It should go without saying that these principles will only
be adopted if the one propounding them is also embodying them.
The Buddha's teaching, certainly as I encounter it, both as a doctrine and a
lifestyle, turns around modesty. I like to use this word as an `accessible',
day-to-day synonym for renunciation. It includes humility, moderation, gentleness,
control, restraint, abstinence... The fundamental teaching of The four Noble
Truths has: "Craving is the cause of dukkha (suffering) and abstinence
from craving is freedom from suffering." Simple, huh? Now why can't I do
that? Fortunately it's not totally either/or, and inclining to modesty is an
inclination toward that same freedom from suffering. As a teacher of your children
do you incline to a modest lifestyle; or is it merely "simple" because
you can't afford more? Is your behaviour an example of modesty to your children?
Are we encouraged toward modesty by the world? My thesaurus gives the antonym
of modesty as `ostentation' = demonstration, display, parade, exhibitionism,
splendour etc. Somehow these seem to be the values I encounter when I read a
magazine or billboard or watch television. Advertising now offers the product
as itself, plus. Get the candy bar (with 10% extra, free). The packet soup with
a bonus holiday; the petrol with free discount vouchers, etc., etc. ad delirium.
These things never come for free! I am led to believe that life as it is, here,
normal, right now, can't be satisfactory as surely, somewhere else, it's on
special. This is the sort of `educational' material I see myself having to work
against. Most people agree the world is a bit of a rat-race - but don't we all
find it so difficult to stop running?
A simple, modest, regulated lifestyle is an excellent place to start stopping.
How you translate that into your life only you can determine; but, the less
you need, desire, the less you have to pay for, the less you have to earn, and
the less complex your whole infrastructure can become. All of this converts
into one single, vital factor - TIME!
To a modest lifestyle I would add `attention'; in the context of giving attention,
rather than asking them (the children) to pay attention. The greatest gift you
can offer anyone - and in this case we are particularly talking about children
- is your time. A piece of your life, no matter how small, if given unconditionally
is worth any number of new toys, violin lessons, sweets, etc. Although it is
your time given that gets the money that gets the toys, children have no real
appreciation of this equation.
A simple example to test this idea: in bed, before sleep, take the time to give
your body a little attention. Gently massage the face, the neck muscles, the
scalp. Rub the arms, massage the chest, give the heart a good rub till you feel
heat on the skin, the belly - gently feel each organ under the skin. This whole
process can be quite extensive but even five minutes will, hopefully, leave
your body feeling happy, a kind of soft glow. Kids' bodies, all bodies, really
enjoy being touched, attended to. Our minds/hearts are no different, although
the process of giving attention is more complex. Meditation is an important
aspect of self-attending that has beneficial results (unfortunately details
are outside the scope of this work). In class I try and touch the children verbally,
with praise, affirmation, encouragement and interest. To touch emotionally,
with love, is a joy. In the absence of any positive touch, children often use
misbehaviour, having learned that this will get attention. Although only negative
it is still preferred to no attention at all.
While I appreciate the unfortunate busy-ness modern life demands, if these kind
of ideas aren't seriously upheld they will never find a footing. If there is
no model for stopping, physically and emotionally, the insistent, demanding
voices of production and consumption are difficult to subdue, leaving no room
for the spiritual.
Related to attention, and as equally important as `being present' and hugs,
is discipline. Unfortunately, if we see praise as the positive, then discipline
is the negative. It means order and control; however, for children, it is your
sense of order and your control over them, and they know better. If the boundaries
of their allowable behaviour are clearly defined early in life, and regularly
reinforced, they are generally much happier; knowing where they stand, and how
far they can go. Self-discipline is something we learn; usually by being shown
discipline being applied (often to ourselves). If the application is effective
we have a good model of how discipline is applied to another and we can apply
that to ourselves.
And how to determine what is just? How to treat kids fairly? There are increasing
signs of social disorder and a lack of control. Teachers increasingly function
as social workers and are often no more than disciplinarians. How is order to
be maintained in group situations? Personally, I think society has a generally
over-liberal approach to discipline. Children don't know right from wrong. They
build up a list of likes and dislikes which usually bears little resemblance
to any moral code and often is outside many social codes. The penalties, later
in life, for not having been taught, are not only uncomfortable for the individual
but for the society at large.
Reasoned logic, coming from loving parents who embody the values they are trying
to instill, is preferable to physical punishment by far; if there is an ear
ready to listen. This is not always so and I think it naive to rule out "smacking".
Discipline is a delicate balance between abuse and indulgence.
One large obstacle to discipline we all have is the desire to be loved. I have
heard children say to a parent "I'll hate you forever if you . . .(discipline
me)." Fear of rejection immediately arises and has to be weighed against
the principle involved. Don't be afraid to discipline, don't be intimidated
into coercive `negotiation'. Your children will always love you, although it
may not always appear that way. The long-term rewards far exceed short-term
expediency.
The last area I would like to reflect on is `tradition', which includes symbols,
ritual and ceremony. In an age of reason, everything must be logical, practical
and utilitarian. Unfortunately the human organism isn't exactly any of those
things. It does a pretty good job but, the difficulty is that we are dealing
here with a non-standard entity, and this is the problem - trying to set a standard.
Children are very susceptible to worldly symbols - that brand of jeans is totally
cool (and so will I be if I have . . . ). But they also intuitively respond
to religious symbols, particularly when they have an (emotional) association
with pleasant ritual or ceremony. Lighting candles, the sprinkling of holy water,
the smell of incense, seems to touch something basically simple and pure in
all of us.
Rituals have a constancy and order that similarly appeal. The ritual cup of
tea, the ritual greeting, the ritual bed-time story; all provide a familiarity
that we find comforting. It is healthy for children to feel secure. Saying grace
at meals is a worthy tradition; gratitude for the provisions and providers.
Bowing is another. If you, or your children, don't already have one, set up
a shrine and get the kids to put on it the things that they treasure, that they
can bow to - and join them in bowing. Create some special time of ritual, create
some special form of ritual; if you believe in it then it can work, especially
with younger ones. I have lovely memories of many non-religious family rituals
- the principle is the same even if the focus is a little different.
Hopefully these short reflections on modesty, attention, discipline and tradition
are of some interest.
In the monastery there is the small, but healthy, core of several children's
activities - Sunday School, Summer Camp and a regular magazine. I would like
to offer these to a wider population, and, in conjunction with this, invite
wider contribution, cooperation and participation. I feel there are not enough
Dhamma opportunities available for younger people and I would like to make contact
with new ideas, and new (or old) people who have an interest in `educating'
children in a Buddhist context. If you are part of a group, or an individual,
with or without children, and would like to connect with a broader sphere then
I would love to hear from you. The idea of the global village is a bit beyond
what I have in mind but this is an attempt at non- separateness, non-isolation.
One idea that I am very keen on is resource sharing. Having encountered a lack
of off-the- shelf material I have put time into creating my own. I suspect that
there are many others (planet-wide) doing the same thing. Is it too idealistic
to suggest that these efforts can be coordinated and made generally available?
Otherwise how many hours are spent on one-offs? Songs, poetry, stories, plays,
games, art work, craft, etc. can be collated/catalogued and presented in a regular
publication. Several forms of exchange: videos, computer disks, pen-pals, holidays,
between individuals and groups, are also possible. There are many possibilities.
If you have any interest or ideas please get in touch with me at Amaravati;
I am happy to help facilitate.
Venerable Kusalo
c.renshaw@ipg.umds.ac.uk