Stare Hard: An Unschooling Challenge
We often fail to look at each other properly, don’t we? Usually, we’re too busy or too distracted. Our attention is elsewhere. Sometimes, although we are aware of the problem, we tell ourselves it’s okay. It’s not our fault.
Two Failing-to-Look Stories
Years ago, when I was training to be a breastfeeding counsellor, my counsellor mentor admitted that her daughter never saw her without a phone in her hand. (This was in the days when phones were attached to walls.) The counsellor said, “When my daughter grows up and thinks about her childhood, I hope she remembers that I was always busy helping people.” She hoped her child wouldn’t remember how little attention she received from her mother or if she did, she’d understand.
When this now-grown-up child looks back, what does she see? Is she proud of her mother for giving so much of her time to others? Or does she wish her mother hadn’t always been attached to the wall, on the phone, talking to strangers? Would she have liked her mother’s gaze upon herself?
I gave this example of someone I used to know, but I could have talked only about myself. There have been times when I’ve got carried away with things like blogging, leaving less time for my family. “I’m busy!” I’d say when someone wanted my attention. Whenever I did look up from my computer at my children, I saw them through the lens of a camera. “Smile!” I’d command, wanting some photos to go with a blog post.
Why Do We Fail to Look Carefully?
We’ve all done it, haven’t we? We’ve got to the end of the day, and we haven’t really seen those around us. Our thoughts have been elsewhere. As we lie in bed, perhaps we can’t recall what outfits our family wore, let alone how they felt or what they were doing that day. If we did look, did we see only the outer appearance without seeing the heart?
I wonder why we have so much trouble seeing people. Why isn’t looking something we naturally do all the time?
Like my friend and myself, we could be so busy doing things for others, we haven’t got any time or energy left over for our families. We convince ourselves that our work is important. Surely our families can see that?
Maybe we like assuming a role other than that of a mother. We want people to see us as someone important, talented or helpful. I’m Sue the author. Sue who helps. Sue who’s invited to join podcasts. I’m recognised for my work outside my family. Being a mother is more important but it doesn’t always feel that way. No one sees us.
Maybe there are times when we make a subconscious decision not to look closely because we don’t like what we see. It makes us feel unsettled. Could looking carefully reveal a problem in the other person or a deficiency in us that we don’t want to face?
Could our kids fail to live up to our ideas of who they should be, so we don’t want to look carefully at them? Hard though it might be to admit it, we could be disappointed or concerned.
We may be embarrassed by the person we’re avoiding eye contact with. Sometimes we’re embarrassed by our kids and don't want to see them.
Sadly, we may not want to see someone’s sufferings or problems. It could be painful sharing their burdens. We might not know what to say. Some friends crossed the road when they saw me to avoid talking to me after my son died.
Perhaps we believe there just isn’t enough time to look carefully. We hurry through our days, cramming in as much as possible, concerned that we’re not doing enough. We have no time to ‘waste’, to sit and drink coffee, to chat and laugh, and give our full attention to someone else. Our kids are growing so fast. How will we expose them to everything they need to know before the years run out?
Are any of these reasons likely to be true? What do you think? Maybe you have other ideas.
Gazing with Wonder and Awe
Have you ever had someone's full attention, making you feel like they had nothing better to do than spend time with you? Did you feel seen?
I’m sure we all have a desire and a need to be seen. We want someone to see us as we really are. We want to know that we are okay.
But do we want to be literally stared at? Do our kids? Perhaps we don’t want people looking at us because it makes us feel uncomfortable. (We could just not be used to it.) My mother used to say to me, “Don’t stare! It’s rude!”
But what if we think of staring as gazing intently? We stare at the distant stars, a captivating painting, an ever-changing sunrise, the never-ending wave rippling ocean, a whale breaching with her calf, a flock of birds gliding overhead, pristine snow falling. We gaze with wonder and awe, never tiring of these soul-touching sights. We can’t get enough of them. We might be reluctant to move and break eye contact until we really must.
What if our children evoked similar reactions from us?
What will happen if we don’t look while we can? Perhaps those we love will drift away from us. We might hurt them by failing to acknowledge them fully. And we could miss out on the delights of really getting to know that person.
Of course, we don’t look with only our eyes. We can stare with our ears. Perhaps we can use our whole bodies. We hear the tremor in a voice. We notice how words are tumbling out one after another. Or maybe they are slow to appear. We feel the softness of skin. We inhale deeply the delicate scent of freshly washed hair or the spray of a favourite perfume.
We often talk about connection. Could staring hard help us connect with our kids?
The Challenge
Resolve to look hard at people with an attitude of wonder and awe. (We don’t have to follow our kids around looking at them every moment of the day!)
Look with our eyes, our ears, our whole bodies.
Ensure people know we’re listening and giving them our full attention.
Do we need to get out from behind our devices?
Maybe we should be willing to put aside our activities for those we love. I’m not saying our own work isn’t important, but does it always have to claim our attention?
How about arranging some one-on-one time with a child? Perhaps sit across a table from each other, sip coffee or lick ice creams, look and listen.
A Challenge from My Heart
This challenge comes from my heart. I have a daughter who once described herself as the black sheep of our family. Sadly, I dismissed her words by saying, “Don’t be silly!” But what if she genuinely felt like she didn’t belong? My daughter moved away from home, out of our state, across the country into a different time zone. I haven’t seen her for a long time. I pray she returns home soon so I can look at her hard, stare in awe, and appreciate who she is, and make sure she knows how much I love her. Because we can start staring at any time, can’t we? It’s never too late. Staring hard could be the beginning of a delightful adventure. Who knows what we will discover? Of course, others might have to get used to being the centre of our attention.
For My Christian Unschooling Friends
From the Holy Gospel of St. John 1:35-42
A couple of words from this reading from the Jerusalem edition of the Bible jumped out at me:
As John stood with two of his disciples, Jesus passed, and John stared hard at him and said, ‘Look, there is the lamb of God.’ Hearing this, the two disciples followed Jesus. Jesus turned round, saw them following and said, ‘What do you want?’ They answered, ‘Rabbi,’ – which means Teacher – ‘where do you live?’ ‘Come and see, ’ he replied; so they went and saw where he lived, and stayed with him the rest of that day. It was about the tenth hour. One of these two who became followers of Jesus after hearing what John had said was Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter. Early next morning, Andrew met his brother and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah’ – which means the Christ – and he took Simon to Jesus. Jesus looked hardat him and said, ‘You are Simon, son of John; you are to be called Cephas’ – meaning Rock.
John stared hard at Jesus. Jesus looked hard at Peter.
So, will you take up this unschooling challenge? Who will you stare hard at? Those you love? Perhaps you already do this. Why not share your thoughts and suggestions? And if you do the challenge, will you return and let me know how you got on?
