6 Seats and a Trashcan
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The boys and me a little over a decade ago, circa timing of the trashcan
6 seats. That’s the number of places left in the Compassionate Communication (a.k.a. Nonviolent Communication or NVC) class I’m teaching that launches tomorrow and Thursday. Which leads to the trashcan. And the trashcan is the reason I suggest you take the course.
When our kids were about 10 and 8, they went to the Family School, a charter shepherded as much by parents as by the public school system. Parents met en masse monthly for planning as the kids filled the cafeteria with a couple parent volunteers to keep an eye on them.
“It’s awful!” my kids reported after braving their first night of childcare. “We didn’t get to do anything that’s fun!”
“Huh,” I said. “Tell me more.” They grieved that they weren’t allowed to run, to play hide and seek, or to be fully creative in their play. “Hmm,” I said. “Sounds like the kids have some major needs unmet — I’m hearing play, fun, creativity, exploration … and now I’m wondering about the adults who are watching them. What are their needs behind these rules?”
You don’t have to live in a world that recognizes NVC to use NVC, thank goodness. My kids were well-versed by then in parsing out the needs beneath folks’ actions. “Well, they think it’s not safe,” said Trin. “But we wouldn’t be unsafe. We know enough to stay out of actual danger.”
Uh-oh. Cultural dilemma. My kids had been largely homeschooled in partnership with NVC, and as a result, they were probably more self-regulated than their public school peers, by virtue of practice. But they didn’t know that. “Well, how about I sign up to do childcare next month and you two assist me?” They agreed with enthusiasm.
This is where the trashcan comes in. A month later, at the end of an evening of childcare, my kids flopped onto the rigid cafeteria benches and closed their eyes. “That was so hard,” Trin said. I admit to suppressing a smile.
“Not what you expected?” I asked.
“No …” Sam groaned. “I don’t understand it. Why, in hide and seek, do kids want to hide in a trash can? I didn’t get it. And it was almost impossible to keep them out of it. If they went in there, it would not be safe, and that’s not what we agreed to. So it wasn’t really fun for us because we couldn’t play too.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I think this is just not an optimal place to meet everyone’s needs. Would you agree? I mean, a cafeteria?” We all looked around and sighed. The boys rolled themselves up to sitting. “I’m glad we tried though, Mom,” said Trin. “I understand a lot better why adults make rules like that now.”
So there it is. The partnership you step into in places least expected is often sweetest. Big learning happened that night as well as empathy and family bonding. And honestly, I have my NVC practice to thank for teaching me to look for needs and lean into power-with. And to teach my kids to do the same.
If you’re tempted to take the dive and integrate needs-awareness and partnership into your life, those 6 seats await — 4 on Wednesday and 2 on Thursday from 10-11:15. Details at the bottom of this newsletter. And if you’re in a hurry, we can get you started here. If you come in a week late, it’s ok. There’s a recording for every session.