Teaching kids to do things themselves

“I can't do it, Mummy!” “Awww, it’s so difficult!” “That drawing is so beautiful! I can’t draw like that!” My kids often throw these at me.

I will narrow my eyes at them, look at the object of utmost difficulty in their hands, and tell them: “There’s no such thing as can’t.”

Because I really believe my kids, and kids in general, can do anything they set their mind to, as long as adults don’t interfere.

They spend a lot of time with their grandparents, and as grandparents are wont to do, they coddle them. I often find them getting “help” in the simplest tasks – getting a glass of water, stacking blocks, eating yoghurt, doing jigsaw puzzles.

I rephrase, getting help is an understatement. They have all these things done FOR them, yes, even the jigsaw puzzles. Don’t know where a piece goes, oh, come, let grandma find it and place it for you. Need a drink of water? Oh dear, let’s put a glass to your lips lest you die of thirst. What? You can’t stack that blue block on top of the red one? Let’s scramble and do it for you because otherwise, it’ll be a national disaster.

To say that it gets me riled up and seeing red would also be an understatement. Because the way they are “helping” the kids is not helping at all. Often, when I, the tyrant, comes home from work, there will be no more “help.”

If my kids come to me and tell me they can’t do something, they already know what I’m going to say. I’ll ask them what they want to do, assess the level of difficulty, and help them break it down into steps. They’ll still protest and insist they cannot.

I do help them if something is really not within their abilities, like when Lauren’s fingers are not strong enough to push the small Lego blocks in place. But she has to tell me where the blocks go, either from looking at the manual, or doing something she designed herself.

Or when Angelica attempts to draw more life-like girls, instead of her usual cartoonish princesses. She gets intimidated when she sees illustrations that she thinks are nicer than her childish doodles. (Actually I love her own girl drawings a million times more than the anime girls or vintage children illustrations that I have lying around the house, but I suppose it’s a rite of passage for her. And any artist would want to advance her skill level ....)

I’ll point out that she’s drawn eyes similar to the illustrations, and that the hair she drew is really long and flowing. She’ll push the pencil and pad to me, and try to get me to draw for her. But I always push it back, and tell her she’s got to at least try it. I make it a point to never draw anything for her; I’d rather talk her through different ways she can try to arrive at the outcome she wants.

Yes, this takes more time, and it really will be easier to just draw a pretty girl for her and send her off to play. It’s the same with Lauren, whose scribblings are starting to take shape. With an older sister who is a prolific sketcher, she’s sometimes a little hesitant in her attempts.

I do the same with her; I talk her through the lines she’s drawing. Whenever I see a shape appearing, I comment on it to encourage her to continue. “That looks like a head. Is that a head you’re drawing?” Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s a dinosaur.

So dinosaur it is. If you see the entries on art in my blog (angelolli.com), I always let the kids dictate what they draw, especially when they’re younger and have not developed the motor skills necessary to render an accurate drawing.

Even if the drawing looks nothing like a cupcake, if they say it’s a cupcake, it’s a cupcake.

These examples on art are just that, examples. Not doing everything for them applies to every aspect of their upbringing. Being a working mother, I am not around for a good part of the day, so there’s nothing I can do about other adults in their lives who deem it necessary to spoonfeed them.

Theirs is the thinking that children are weaker than adults, and therefore need to be helped every step of the way. I would rather subscribe to what Amy Chua, tiger mother, has so cleverly put forth in her book – she assumes strength of her children, rather than weakness.

When I am with my kids, that is what I do. I assume strength and expect it from them. I have complete faith that they have the ability to learn anything and everything. Therefore, to step in every time they insist they can’t, is akin to severing the flow of air that they desperately need to thrive.

Isn’t it every mother’s wish that their children be independent and self-sufficient? It’s the only way to send them out into the world.

Elaine Dong doesn’t believe in spooning yoghurt into her two kids’ mouths, but she’s willing to wipe any spills from them trying it themselves. She blogs at angelolli.com.