The Buddhist philosophy of selective watering suggests that a child has both negative seeds (anger, fear, shame) and wholesome seeds (love, joy)

I was sitting with my family at a restaurant for a meal when I felt someone grab my hair very tight. Wincing at the pain and ready to chastise the culprit, I turned sharply to see a pair of adorable baby eyes staring unblinkingly at me. I smiled back with a tentative ‘hullo’ but apart from the continued stare there was no response. I tried making all kinds of faces in an attempt to catch a smile but no luck. After some time, sadly, he disappeared behind the sofa, and I turned back to my table. However, that was not the end of it, as very soon my daughter nudged me with a, ‘he is back.’ I turned and there he was with the same unblinking stare but this time there was a toothless drooly smile and an upturned hand with a piece of bread. I accepted the offering and before I could say anything, his family, oblivious to this charming interaction, whisked him off on their way out.

This little interaction has stayed with me as this tiny drama was symbolic of all that is precious about childhood and early years. Along with the thought, ‘How can we let children hold on to the bold joy and curiosity that they are born with, and not let it be whittled away as they grow up in a society that is bent on pushing them into normative grooves?’

What if we were to play out two scenarios for this little one, we can call Cheeku. Scenario 1 — Cheeku is an active, energetic boy who loves the outdoors, running and exploring the world. Trouble starts when he joins school and the complaints start pouring in on how he is ‘not fitting in’, and how ‘he has the potential but needs to try harder’ with the same story being churned out in a loop from class to class. At home, parents double up their efforts to ‘discipline’, so he stops being ‘lazy’ and there is also a talk of ‘sending him to a boarding school as that is the only way he will learn how to be responsible’.

By the time Cheeku is in Grade V, he has started talking about ‘hating school’ and ‘I wish I was dead’.

Scenario 2 — From an early age, Cheeku’s parents and teachers understand that he is a very curious child who loves to ask questions and is wired to explore his surroundings. So they work out a balance where he gets time to discover and explore and there are quiet times when he sits down to do some focused activities which regulate his attention and learning. PTMs become times to acknowledge all that he brings to the classroom — his curiosity, love for learning, generosity, passion for animals and so on. The struggles are discussed collaboratively and with respect so that Cheeku has a sense of personal agency of his own life. The same child in two scenarios where in one there is despair and in the other possibilities.

More than a decade ago, I attended a five-day retreat with the Vietnamese Zen Buddhist Master, Thich Nhat Hanh, where he shared an exquisite metaphor of the art of selective watering. As he explained, each child has both negative seeds (anger, fear, shame) and wholesome seeds (love, joy, generosity). What will blossom depends on which seeds we choose to water and nurture. The principles of the art of selective watering weave well with narrative practice which I adapt to our context.

Appreciating sparkles: When you see children doing something positive, ask them what they would call it and find a name for it together. Maybe start building your vocabulary to include a range of playful, creative adjectives. Do not just settle for ‘good’, ‘well done’, ‘and excellent’. Be curious and water the seeds of how they want to be seen and explore values like kindness, courage, persistence, curiosity and a sense of justice.

Acknowledging micro-steps: Children work hard at finding ways to stay safe, do well and support others. However, many times we end up dismissing it as ‘not good enough’. Suppose a child really tried hard to do something — maybe working hard at math, performing on stage despite their nervousness or standing up to a bully. Rather than going all ‘fantastic’, ‘brilliant’ we could possibly be curious and ask them, ‘Was that hard?’ ‘What did it take to do that?’ ‘What does it say about you?’

Weaving stories: The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voices and the way we talk about them becomes their life stories. Parenting, teaching or any interaction with a child contributes to their identity as they are growing up. Who am I? What is important to me? What do I believe in? What am I not okay with? What hopes do I have? Be curious, share their sense of wonder at the preferred pathways they might want to take in life. After all, we make stories and stories make us.

Lighting up: If you look back at your childhood, do you have memories of a person who would light up in your presence? As if a light bulb had been lit inside them? Choose one day to keep your eyes and ears open for your children. Look at them more often, make more eye contact, listen to them, touch them, smile at them, ‘light up’ in their presence, (tone it down for the teenagers, otherwise you might spook them out). At the end of the day, just notice if you see any changes in them, or in yourself as you do what I playfully call, a ‘lighting-up experiment’.

I can’t help but share another story of another little toddler I met. As his mother was talking to me, I saw the little one fishing out a book from her bag, settle down on the floor and start chomping on it. “Err… do you think that’s okay? He is chewing paper.” The mother, without even turning around, said, “Don’t worry he is teething and loves doing that.” The little chomper gave me a cheeky grin and went back to it and soon bits of paper started drooling down on his chin. The mother, sensing my alarm, flicked the book from his mouth. ‘Ga…ga’, the little one bawled at me as if knowing that I had robbed him of his snack.

His mother quickly rummaged in her bag and found a boxful of carrot sticks and popped one in his mouth. In a heartbeat, he took it out of his mouth and offered me a peace offering with a gummy hand while the mother tried to hold him back with, ‘No, no baby.’ I bent down and ate it gratefully. He looked at me chomping it for a moment or two and then broke into a huge toothless smile, ‘Ga…ga’. As I felt my whole being flooded with sheer joy I thought ‘ga…ga’ for sure.