Today, my son spoke before an audience for the first time. He is four. A week ago, he was asked to speak in Primary, our church's Sunday School for kids, for a minute or so on the topic "The scriptures teach me how to pray".
I felt strongly that this was an important opportunity for him. I grew up giving little talks like this in Primary myself and it was a very valuable experience. I have never forgot a comment made by a gentleman in my ward (congregation) growing up—he said that the Mormon kids had an advantage in high school because since they're little, they're given opportunities to speak in front of others. This got me thinking about how in my Oregon high school, the Mormon kids were a minority but it didn't always feel that way because we were the leaders in theatre, music, and student government. It seemed easier for us to participate in this sort of stuff. And just recently, a very respected colleague who works at the high school where I teach was asked to give a speech at graduation. He told me how nervous he was. That seemed strange to me because it would be no big deal for me to speak at graduation. I feel I owe that strength in part to all the talks I gave in Primary growing up.
So, I felt strongly about helping my son prepare to give his talk. It would be the beginning of many experiences that would help him develop confidence in his ability to speak in front of groups and generally do hard things. I also wanted him to be able to speak as much as possible from his own heart, not just say something I wanted him to say but didn't know how to best help a four year old prepare to do so. I did the best I could.
This morning, I got up with Stephen. He ate a cupcake (from the Cocoa Bean -- it's this magical cupcake shop that has become somewhat of a staple in our household) while I showed him prints from a collection of scripture story illustrations that we own. As we reviewed each print, I talked with him about the story it represented. I surprised myself by realizing that almost every story was, in one way or another, about a person who prayed—either someone who had a problem and overcame it through prayer or someone who was able to do something important because of their lifetime foundation of prayer. I told story after story, looking for the one that he would personally latch onto.
He latched onto the one picture that wasn't so much about prayer: the picture of a bunch of animals meant to represent the Creation. It's sort of a silly picture (you can see it to the right -- there's a bunch of stereotypical zoo animals hanging out together in Paradise and the best part is the blue whale stuffed uncomfortably into the lake). But this silly picture is important to our family: before Stephen could say many words, he loved to stare at this picture and imitate us as we made the sounds of each animal.
So, it was decided that we would use the silly but sentimental animal picture to teach about how "the scriptures teach me how to pray". We decided that I would stand up there with him and give him prompts to know what to say. We'd talk about how the scriptures tell how God created all the animals and so the scriptures help us know to give thanks for the animals when we pray. This seemed satisfactory to Stephen and actually felt quite meaningful to me because I've been feeling recently the need to express greater gratitude in my own prayers.
Then, it came time to get ready to go to church. It was a mess. Stephen decided to rebel against leaving the house today. It was quite the struggle. There were many tears, angry words, time out's, and even, regretfully, a couple of spankings (something that happens very rarely in our house but that's the subject matter of another blog post). I almost gave up a few times but decided to keep at it because I wanted so badly for Stephen to have this formative speaking experience. Finally, we got out the door and Stephen made it to church (howbeit without shoes ... oh well). I think Stephen might have been resisting going today because he was nervous about speaking. I was not about to have him set a precedent of running away from new or hard things (I think pretty overdramatically about things at times ... actually a lot of times).
We made it to church and survived the first hour and then it was time for Primary. Our whole family went to support Stephen. It felt pretty special to all be there for that moment. It was interesting to watch the differences between my two children: Stephen who is four and all about action and speed and movement never really sits still. He was constantly moving in his chair. Charlotte, who is seventeen months and all about doing what's expected, came in and, even though she is too young for Primary, was very happy to sit quietly (which she quickly perceived to be the social norm in this scenario).
Then came the time for Stephen to speak. I went to get him from his chair and he freaked out. He would not let go of his seat. But I was determined for him to have the magical formative experience I believed so much in. So, I picked him up, chair and all, and took him to the podium. I suppose there was room to be embarrassed that my son and his chair were being carried to the podium ... I imagine my wife Jamie was feeling quite ashamed ... but I didn't care because I was determined to realize the ideal I had for my son. I stood him up there and something clicked. Stephen saw the microphone at the podium and dropped the chair. He really likes machines and tools and he also likes attention from people so I don't know if it was the opportunity to use the microphone or the fact that everyone was watching him that made him suddenly enjoy the experience but he was happy to be there.
He held up his picture and I gave him prompts. He delivered the planned message. Then I told him to go ahead and say what animals in the picture we can be grateful for and he listed every single creature on the illustration. It took kind of a long time: "Walrus, tiger, bird, little birds, monkey, giraffe, bear, deer, zebra, whale ... what's that? ... oh right ... lion, and fox. InthenameofJesusChrist [he tends to mesh that part into one word]. Amen." People chuckled.
Then we walked back to where he was sitting, I put his chair back, he sat down, and it was done. In the end, I ask myself if I was right to feel like this mattered so much. If he hadn't spoken today—say if I'd let him choose not to do it when he didn't want to go to church or when he grappled with the chair—would it really have been that bad? I don't know. It raises all sorts of questions about the value of letting children choose vs. the power of pushing them to do things they don't want to do so they can grow. I think it's good to push them more (read, "make decisions for them") when they're younger so they form good habits, realize how much they can do, and have formative experiences. And then, as they get older, gradually let them choose more and more as they grow so that they can have the formative experience of making their own decisions and seeing the consequences that come from it.
But what do I know? I'm just a young dad making this up as I go. But I do know this: I'm awfully proud of my son. He has his first public speaking engagement at four! I think we'll make a treat and celebrate.
