Teaching manners to children, 2: Basic principles

“Instruction without imitation is ineffective.”
~ Rev. Lee Gandiya
In his sermon Sunday, my pastor was preaching on the ascension of Christ, and he reminded us that Jesus did not just leave his disciples with commandments to obey, but with an example to follow. Imitation is going to be a crucial theme in this series, so don’t be surprised if I harp on it. ;-)

Last week I discussed definitions of some words I’ll be using.

Today I want to address Basic Principles.

1. Begin with the end in mind. You need to have a clear mental image of what good table manners look like so you know where to begin, and so you can tell if you’re making progress. With this in mind, do NOT encourage behavior in young children that you would have to correct in an older one.

I’m not talking about punishment here. I just mean don’t laugh and take pictures and act pleased when your ten-month-old smashes his peas and uses them as finger paint. Yes, I know it’s adorable and you want to encourage a spirit of creativity and exploration. But the dinner table isn’t the appropriate place for that, so for now just don’t call attention to the activity—he’s not doing it to please you anyway, but to satisfy his own curiosity. You’ll need to defer your excitement until a more appropriate opportunity to express it arises.

2. Knowing etiquette helps us know how to be courteous, so courtesy is the higher thing. On rare occasion you may have to set aside etiquette for the sake of courtesy, but you should never set aside courtesy for the sake of keeping rules.

3. You have to model good manners yourself. We are created in the image of God, so we are by nature imitators. Christ calls us to imitate him, and we parents need to do the same for our children.



Application

If your children are older and have developed bad habits, don’t worry about where they “should be.” Just start where they are and move forward.

You do need to take responsibility for the way you’ve raised them so far, so if you haven’t taught them well, or you’ve been a bad role model, don’t blame them for it. But don’t beat yourself up either. Just acknowledge to yourself and to God that you’ve fallen short in this area, then move on.

Here are some questions to ask yourself: What is my vision for my family? How do I define good manners? What things am I already doing well? What is one step I can take that will make mealtimes more pleasant?

I’d love to hear your answers, if you feel comfortable sharing in the comments.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

In my next few posts I’m going to describe what meals looked like at different points in our family life, beginning when my oldest children were quite young, before I started thinking about teaching table manners in a more deliberate fashion. This is not so that you can see the One True Method of training your own children, because that doesn’t exist. But since we learn by imitation, it’s good to have examples of how it worked for particular families. I’d encourage you to look for families you admire in your own community as well, so you have several different models to draw on.

Teaching manners to children, part 1

 A couple of weeks ago I was asked to blog a bit on teaching manners to children, specifically table manners. This is such a large topic that, well . . . . You see how long it has taken me to get my thoughts in presentable order. Actually, to keep from succumbing to the perfectionist demon, this is going to wind up being a series of sorts. I’ll add to it as I’m able to and as interest in this conversation warrants it.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

First, definitions!

When we’re talking about something like table manners for children, there are lots of terms we might use that are related but don’t mean exactly the same thing. Is etiquette the same thing as manners? Are manners and courtesy the same?

I’m going to begin with Courtesy, because I think it’s the larger idea. In this context, I’m going to use courtesy to include politeness, good manners, and respect, with the overall goal of treating one another the way we ought to treat fellow bearers of the image of God. Courtesy is a demeanor and an attitude as much as an action or set of actions. In this sense, courtesy is a virtue that people in all times and places must strive to embody.

Manners are the actions we take in relation to the people we’re with and circumstances we’re in. Good manners are things we do that display the virtue of courtesy—practical ways of treating other people with respect, humility, and good humor. It is important to remember that what is considered good manners varies from one culture and even one sub-culture to another.

Etiquette is a formal or customary code that describes correct behavior in various social and business settings, and is specific to those settings. What I mean is that proper etiquette at a wedding is not necessarily the same as proper etiquette at a beach party. Proper wording of a text message is not the same as proper wording of a business letter, and neither is the same as an email to a friend.

Another word you might see around is Protocol, which is a formal set of procedures. I don’t use it often, and might not use it at all in this series, because it mostly refers to diplomacy and treaties and matters of state. When I do use it at home, it’s in an almost medical or technological sense. I have protocols for handling raw meat and fresh produce. When we had dairy goats, I had strict protocols for handling the milk because we drank it raw and I wanted to be sure it was clean.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Now, something practical.

Because manners and etiquette are necessarily tied to culture, spend the next few days noticing what is considered good manners in your own community, including the families you and your spouse were raised in. 

There are two reasons for doing this. One is so that you can be sure that you and your kids aren’t accidentally coming off as rude when you’re at church or grandmother’s house. The other is so that you can identify differences between your community’s and your own expectations, and begin thinking about how to handle that.

Your turn!

What do you think of these definitions?

Would you alter or add to anything I’ve said here?

I haven’t even mentioned decorum, propriety, civility, and others that came to mind after I finished this. Should we talk about those ideas?

What questions do you have?

Chaucer

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

An old man in a lodge within a park;
     The chamber walls depicted all around
     With portraitures of huntsman, hawk, and hound,
     And the hurt deer. He listeneth to the lark,
Whose song comes with the sunshine through the dark
     Of painted glass in leaden lattice bound;
     He listeneth and he laugheth at the sound,
     Then writeth in a book like any clerk.
He is the poet of the dawn, who wrote
     The Canterbury Tales, and his old age
     Made beautiful with song; and as I read
I hear the crowing cock, I hear the note
     Of lark and linnet, and from every page
     Rise odors of plowed field or flowery mead.

On creativity

One day when I only had five children, my friend Michelle dropped in for lunch when I was feeling especially low. My mom, my husband, and all my kids are so creative—we have artists and musicians and storytellers—and in comparison I felt so very uncreative.

As I was complaining, I was making soup out of leftovers, pulling odds and ends out of the freezer to fill it out, absentmindedly dumping in spices, and tasting it every once in a while. When we sat down to eat, Michelle said that when she was watching me make it she was kind of horrified because I wasn’t really even paying attention to what I was doing, but she called it the best soup she’d ever eaten, and told me to stop thinking of myself as lacking in creativity.

Don’t think of “creativity” as something that’s limited to the fine or performing arts, or to writing poetry and stories.

You are made in God’s image, so you are creative! You just need to learn to recognize all the creative things you’re already doing.

Making soup without a recipe is creative. Building a chicken coop is creative. Keeping the lawn tidy and attractive is creative. Working puzzles is creative. Seeing connections between seemingly unrelated things is creative. Making your bed and placing the pillows “just so” is creative. Deciding which books out of all the possibilities your children should read next is creative. Having your spices or tools or pencils arranged so that you can find exactly what you want when you want it is creative.

Do you see the common thread here?

In all of these activities, you are imitating God’s creative work in the beginning: Bringing order out of chaos.

Take Michelle’s advice: Stop thinking of yourself as lacking in creativity. Look for the ways you are already bringing order out of chaos, and build from there.

Out of the mouths of babes

Once when my sister, Anne Marie, was two or three years old, we were out driving when a particularly low quality song came on the radio. When it was over, she remarked, “That song isn’t real. Somebody just made it up.”

Naturally I DID NOT LAUGH when she said it, even though I laugh every time I remember or retell it.

But I have remembered it and retold it regularly, not just because it was funny, but because I think there’s real truth in there.

I was reminded of it again this morning while reading Stratford Caldecott’s Beauty for Truth’s Sake. In his chapter on music he quotes the English composer John Tavener, who says that, “all music already exists. When God created the world he created everything. It’s up to us as artists to find the music.”

He goes on to say:

Music just is. It exists. If you have ears to hear, you’ll hear it! . . . I believe we are incarnated in the image of God in this world in order for us to re-find that heavenly celestial music from which we have been seperated. Our whole life is a continuing return to the “source.”

(p. 96)

Mindfulness

My morning walks are something like a meditation time. When I first starting walking regularly I would bring along an audio book or my French lessons and I found that I hated it — I couldn’t focus on the walk or the book. Instead I focus on the walk itself, and it’s much more pleasurable and relaxing that way.

First I focus on my feet, how I’m placing them. This will sound silly but it’s actually necessary for me. A couple of years ago the pain in my right foot became so bad that I finally went to a doctor and he put me in physical therapy for a few months. Turns out that the weeks I spent walking in a cast after breaking my foot when I was five years old caused me to develop bad habits, and the years of that gait caused damage to my foot, my ankle, my knees, hips, back, and neck! So the first thing I do is make sure that I’m planting that foot the way I should be and pushing off correctly.

Then I spend a bit of time noticing my hips and lower back, checking for correct posture and muscle usage. Then I move up to my upper back, neck, and shoulders, making sure they’re correct and relaxed, so that my chest is open and relaxed and I’m breathing properly. Then I cycle through again to make sure I haven’t lost anything along the way.

CS Lewis said, “When you put the feet right, everything else comes right.” 😀

This sounds time-consuming, and it was at first, but while I’m concentrating on my gait, posture, and breathing, I’m also taking in the look of the ground and noticing whether it shows signs of recent rain or wind. I’m smelling the air and feeling the temperatures. I’m listening to the birds and other animals and to the sound of the wind in the trees. I’m looking up at the sky and noticing the color and whether there are any clouds and what they’re like.

Nowadays focusing on my own body has become easy enough that it doesn’t take much attention or energy, so I have more of that for simply noticing the creation and letting my thoughts wander to whatever I want to think about.

There’s a specific technique that I had learned before all of this came up, and I think it’s why focusing on all those things came fairly easily for me. It’s counting your breaths. This sounds dumb, but it’s actually pretty hard.

Go sit or lie someplace quiet with no distractions. Then breathe in to a slow 3-count and out the same way. Count in your head, if possible, so you can keep your body as quiet and relaxed as possible. At the end of each cycle, count that as 1 breath (keeping count on my fingers works best for me). Try to get all the way to 10 without thinking of anything else. If any other thought intrudes itself, push it out and start over counting.

The goal is to be able to count to 100 (ten 10s) while maintaining that level of focus. It took me weeks and weeks to get there, but it’s worth it! Especially if you have an annoying dental procedure coming up and don’t like using the laughing gas. 😉

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

(This post was originally a comment at Joy’s blog.)

Reading The Faerie Queen with children: handling allegory

The many generations who have read and re-read The Faerie Queene with delight paid very little attention to the historical allegory; the modern student, at his first reading, will be well advised to pay it none at all.
~C.S. Lewis’s essay “Edmund Spenser 1552-99,” in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Literature

I’ve been very grateful to have Lewis as a mentor on our journey through The Faerie Queene, especially as we read Canto IX of Book V this morning. In the canto, Duessa, the arch-villainess through much of the story, has finally been captured and brought to trial at the court of the great queen Mercilla. In her defense come Pity, Regard of womanhood, Nobility, and Grief, among others, who plead her case so well that Prince Arthur is moved to feel sorry for her. But then the prosecutor, Zeal, makes his case and brings Strife, Murder, Sedition, Incontinence, Adultery, and Impiety to testify against her.

All which when as the Prince had heard and seen,
    His former fancy’s ruth he gan repent,
    And from her party eftsoons was drawn clean.
    But Artegall with constant firm intent,
    For zeal of Justice was against her bent.
    So was she guilty deemed of them all.
    Then Zeal began to urge her punishment,
    And to their Queen for judgement loudly call,
Unto Mercilla mild for Justice gainst the thrall.

But she, whose Princely breast was touched near
    With piteous ruth of her so wretched plight,
    Though plain she saw by all that she did hear,
    That she of death was guilty found by right,
    Yet would not let just vengeance on her light;
    But rather let in stead thereof to fall
    Few pearling drops from her fair lamps of light;
    The which she covering with her purple pall
Would have the passion hid, and up arose withall.

[Spellings updated]

The notes at the back of my copy of the book go to great lengths to describe the historical background – all the conflicts between Catholic and Protestant during the Reformation in England – and explain that in this scene Duessa is Mary Queen of Scots, and Mercilla is Queen Elizabeth.

I usually keep Lewis’s admonition in mind, but even though this is technically our first reading, we’ve already met this scene in a children’s version that we read before approaching Spenser himself, given my children’s ages – 14 and 16 – after we finished the canto I decided to address the historical background just a little. Mainly I pointed out that though there are historical parallels, this shouldn’t be taken as plain allegory. I thought it would be a good idea to start letting them know about literary criticism and analysis of the kind that might kill the joy of the piece if we take it too much to heart.

I can’t tell you how much we’re loving reading The Faerie Queene. I wish I’d read it with my older kids when they were still at home.

If you’re interested, here’s another post I wrote a few years ago with quotes from the same Lewis book I quoted above: C. S. Lewis on Spenser’s Faerie Queene.

Dear March, come in!

~Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat—
You must have walked—
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the birds’—
The maples never knew
That you were coming—I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me—
And all those hills
You left for me to hue—
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.

Who knocks? That April!
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
That blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame.

Literature as Logos

This, so far as I can see, is the specific value or good of literature considered as Logos; it admits us to experiences other than our own. . . . it may be the typical (and we say ‘How true!’) or the abnormal (and we say ‘How strange!’); it may be the beautiful, the terrible, the awe-inspiring, the exhilarating, the pathetic, the comic, or the merely piquant. Literature gives the entrée to them all. Those of us who have been true readers all our life seldom fully realise the enormous extension of our being which we owe to authors. We realise it best when we talk with an unliterary friend. He may be full of goodness and good sense but he inhabits a tiny world. In it, we should be suffocated. The man who is contented to be only himself, and therefore less a self, is in prison. My own eyes are not enough for me, I will see through those of others. Reality, even seen through the eyes of many, is not enough. I will see what others have invented. Even the eyes of all humanity are not enough. I regret that the brutes cannot write books. Very gladly would I learn what face things present to a mouse or a bee; more gladly still would I perceive the olfactory world charged with all the information and emotion it carries to a dog.

This is the next-to-last paragraph of C.S. Lewis’ Experiment in Criticism. How does he do this? How does he put into words everything I’m feeling?

When I read that, I put the book down and sat there for a moment, sobbing.

Why does it hurt so much to be human?

The next paragraph says:

“Literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the privilege, of individuality.”

Yes. That’s it. “The wound of individuality.” I didn’t know what that feeling was before, but now I do. (This is why I love you so much, dear saint! More than anyone, you help me understand what I’m feeling and thinking.)

But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.