Talk.

Today I am ruminating on talk.

I do too much of it. I wish I listened more. Not that I am a bad listener--more like, I just wish my life included less of the talking/listening/talking spectrum and more non-verbal tasks. Preschool co-op meeting last night, a friend's reading tonight, school meetings yesterday, school meetings today, school starting next week. Talk talk talk talk talk.

And then there's L. A bit over a week ago, when I was still with my parents back East, I woke around 7:00 a.m. to the sounds of L. and Grampa in the living room looking at an animal book. Grampa couldn't get a word in edgewise. L. was saying, "That's a baby cheetah. I'm the baby cheetah, you're the Grampa cheetah, Mumma's the Mumma cheetah, Daddy's the Daddy cheetah! That's an elephant. I'm the baby elephant, you're the Grampa elephant, Mumma's the Mumma elephant, hey Grampa! Did you know elephants live in Africa? And sometimes India? These are called trunks. These are called trunks. Baby cheetahs don't have trunks, of course. Ack-shley, I'm a baby tiger...."

Cute, I thought.

By one p.m., four p.m., seven p.m., same deal. HE HAD NOT STOPPED. I told someone about it the next day, e.g., "Yesterday, L. started talking at 7:00 and didn't stop until bedtime!"--until I realized it was bedtime a week later and he still hadn't stopped talking. 

I've been really thrilled--blessed, even--to have a verbal kid. I knew we were in for it when he had complete sentences well before two. I knew things were heating up when he started busting out words like "similar," "foundation," and "investigate." It is such a joy to have a kid who can convey his needs to you verbally. I have not once worried that L. is delayed linguistically (I've had other worries; we all do). But a kid who can talk well can also argue well, and attempt to talk his way out of things, and pitch fits with the rest of them when my talk isn't the talk he wants to hear.

Just this morning I attended an enlightening session on empathy in teaching. You know, instead of shutting down a problem student, empathizing. Instead of saying "That's inappropriate," you say, "It seems like you feel really comfortable sharing personal details." Instead of saying, "Please stop yelling at me," you say, "Wow, it seems like you're really passionate/angry/excited about this issue."

I'm going to try more of this in the classroom this semester. And more of it with L., especially at bedtimes. "It seems like you're really frustrated that it's time to lie quietly in your room with Daniel [blankie] until you fall asleep." Or "It seems like you're sad that it's bedtime. Should we talk about all the fun things we might do tomorrow?"

Hmm. Could I say, "It seems like you're really f&*^ing argumentative today, L., and Mumma's sick of it"?

Nah. Seems like that's over the line.