Parents must face their own issues when discussing war and terrorism.
By: Karen Deaver
About the time the United States invaded Iraq, I stepped outside with Kolter, my two-year-old, and found yellow and purple crocus piercing layers of last fall’s leaves. Their rise made him gleeful and prompted me to muse about humans’ability to remain vital and hopeful, even in the face of war. But my usual joy at the ebb of darker days was tempered. With one eye on life as embodied by my exuberant son, I turned the other inward to cope with the jumbled emotions brought on since talk of war began.
I haven’t had to explain it all to Kolter, who is struggling with simpler concepts like "mine" and "yours." But when we talk to older kids about war and the ongoing threat of terrorism, I wonder how much we should share of our own opinions. Particularly for parents who are conflicted about the war, does it help or hurt our kids to give them another point of view than the one they might get from TV or school?
First we need to look closely at language itself, at how it is spun. Mainstream TV has a tendency to reflect the easy-to-digest messages passed on by our governing institutions. Take "Operation Iraqi Freedom," for instance. This language allows for one interpretation of what we are doing over there and one response. Who could be against freedom in Iraq? Such a simplified message can thwart questions in some of us: Why did we previously support Saddam Hussein? Were there other political or economic motivations behind our involvement?
Of course, for the government to introduce anything more complex, like "Operation Regime Change," could be disastrous constituents might not invest, the world might protest us more fervently. But if we impart to our kids only that which is easy to digest, we limit the scope of their understanding and ultimately hinder them from learning to cope in a vastly complex world.
In addition to the media’s projection of a single viewpoint, our awareness of war’s high stakes tends to ignite a strong reaction in most: for or against. From this vantage point, if you’re not with our government, supporting the fight, then you’re against it, and against the troops, too. While soldiers were under way to Iraq, I was exposed to this polarization, both at a peace rally, where a "Support Our Troops" counter-demonstration appeared, and on a date with my husband in Philadelphia.
We went to a club to hear a singer who used the opportunity to speak out against the invasion. Although the majority backed him up, there were a few who took offense. Each side egged the other on, perpetuating a good-bad duality, and not achieving the "peace" I’m sure both want, although they would achieve it in different ways.
Their passion reminded me again how important our choice of words is at times like these. To say I’m anti-war provokes a different response than to say I’m pro-peace. Both sides could say the latter, which leaves room for dialogue about how to achieve peace.
What strikes me about this dichotomized adult response is how contrary it is to what we aim to teach our children.
Imagine a parenting column advising us that when children voice dissent, it means they don’t love us and, conversely, that when we’re angry with them, we love them less. In other words, to equate specific behavior with how we feel for the whole person.
Experts tell us to do exactly the opposite to teach children that they are intrinsically loved, no matter what they do or say: "I’m angry that you threw my flower pot but I still love you." We start to distinguish for children two abstractions inherent in anger and love, and yet we can’t seem to get that our pro-diplomacy neighbor, who is against invading Iraq, still loves our country, respects our soldiers, and is patriotic.
Can simplification be helpful? Of course, young children need explanations that are easy to grasp, and the amount and kind of information we give them depends on what they are able and willing to absorb. Yet we often don’t give older kids enough credit for being able to navigate, without help, the grayer shades of life.
Children’s Specialized Hospital, an affiliate of the Robert Wood Johnson Health System, recommends that when discussing war and terrorism, parents be honest at the level that kids can understand. Parents should "acknowledge your own feelings, which will help you recognize (the children’s); be approachable and open to questions; help them reach out to others."
Giving children concrete tasks, such as collecting items for relief/aid organizations and writing to politicians, gives their understanding greater dimension and helps them to take control.
Likewise, in First Aid for Feelings, A Workbook to Help Kids Cope with War Issues, written by Denise Daniels of the Minneapolis-based National Childhood Grief Institute, kids are encouraged to express their grief, anger and worries as a key to managing life. Exercises are designed to help them describe their feelings and ask questions.
Even if we’re not comfortable telling our kids the truth as we see it, we can still deliver a message that won’t promote polarization and won’t antagonize a message that will encourage them to think deeply. Even at age 2, they need to know that disagreeing with policy won’t necessarily diminish their regard for whomever’s making it.
A free copy of First Aid for Feelings can be downloaded from www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/stores/static/-/toys/first-aid-index/103-1918248-3202265

