Mind Your Manners
Politeness: costs nothing, opens doors everywhere. Most of us are told this from a very young age, bombarded with phrases such as “what do you say?” or “what’s the magic word?” and so on.
I agree wholeheartedly – manners are essential, and we react negatively when people don’t display them. Who hasn’t muttered “you’re welcome” in an absurdly sarcastic tone after holding open a door or letting a car nudge into the line ahead of them?
As a parent, I would prefer my children to be polite and well behaved in public and in school, and save any bad behaviour for home. Of course, in an ideal world they would be angels all the time, but that would be an impossibility. And my boys are polite – I get compliments on their general demeanour, and although they’re horrible to me at times I think I’m in the majority of parents who believe this is how it should be. Children generally save their anger and frustration for home after a day of sitting like a coiled spring in a classroom, they wait until they are safe and can vent in the knowledge that they will still be loved at the end of their tantrum.
As someone who works with children daily, however, I meet kids whose manners differ greatly due to neurodivergence. We have a seemingly endless number of children in classes who have, or are awaiting a diagnosis for, some form of SEN: so many that actually it seems to dilute the pool of ‘special’ educational need into what feels more like ‘usual’ (notice I didn’t say normal, since who knows what that is). Increasingly, any class-based situations that arise, when discussed with either parents or colleagues, end up containing the phrase “but they are *insert relevant neurodivergence*”. I, however, wonder whether for some of these children their behaviour is more attributable to parental influence than to any neurodivergent condition that they may have.
In the summer, I came up against a 6 year old whom I have taught regularly. He’s cute, when he wishes to be, but polite? No. Neurodiverse? Possibly. The day unfolded something like this…
9.30am: Arrival. So far, so good.
10am: A teamwork exercise making sea-themed shapes as a group.
Child: I don’t want to be a mast.
Me: Why don’t you be a cannon ball then?
C: No, I don’t want to do this! (Stomps to corner and sits arms folded) I hate it here.
Me: Thank you, that’s nice.
This was the general routine per activity throughout the day. We would attempt to engage him, when he didn’t feel it was going his way, we’d try to bring him back down to earth and then tiptoe around him.
Circa 2.30pm.
C: I hate this game, it’s lame! (Stomps to corner again. Game continues. Children enjoying themselves. Child decides to return.)
Me: Excuse me, sit down.
C: I want to play.
Me: You said it was lame.
C: I want to PLAY!!!
Me: Please say sorry.
C: No, you’re a horrible fat woman. (I’m a size 12 and generally considered to be rather nice) I’m never coming back here with you. I hate it.
Me: Thank you, that’s nice.
We removed the child to a separate room where he proceeded to kick everything in sight. He was collected early by mum to whom we said: “Don’t worry! He did so well, it’s a long day”. No he didn’t. He ruined the day for us all.
“Mum does a thing called soft parenting”, my teacher explains. “I think he needs to be diagnosed”.
Really, I thought? And to what end?
This is where I come back to the subject of manners. Yes, there are people who struggle with social constraints, but this is a child of 6 who calls adults around him names, expects preferential treatment and stamps his foot if he doesn’t get it. I have no doubt that there’s something neurological there but simply slapping a label on it won’t help him in the long run. How will he cope in the adult world if he is consistently excused poor behaviour on the basis of a diagnosis?
Anyone who has worked in customer service will appreciate the importance of treating people as you would wish to be treated and recognising that the way you speak to others directly affects how successful you are at getting what you need or resolving an issue. I remember working in the Prince Edward Theatre and being spoken to rudely by a lady from the audience. I bit back, but my colleague killed the situation with kindness and said: “Feel sorry for her – she gets that reaction wherever she goes”. Of course, because she’s impolite and the world reflects that back to her.
Politeness does cost nothing. We are consistently told to be kind and considered. And we should, as we don’t know what is going on in a person’s life. But when it comes to children, I believe they also need our help and encouragement in becoming more than their label.
I am not for a second suggesting that neurodivergence should be ignored. I’m saying that by focussing exclusively on a child’s diagnosis and allowing them to do whatever they want without any restriction, we are encouraging a generation of children (and parents) that don’t know how to accept responsibility for their actions or the consequences that may arise from them.
Thank you for writing this brave article, Cat. I’ve worked in and with schools for 15 years and what you’ve said resonates deeply with me.
Thank you Jenny, it was a difficult article to write as it’s such a sensitive issue so I’m glad it’s hit the mark!
Cat x
You’re welcome. it’s great that conversations are able to be had on this subject.
Thank you Jenny! It was a difficult article to write as it’s such a sensitive issue for many, I’m glad it hit the mark!
Cat
Soft parenting?? Good parents are considered and friendly, not soft, IMO. You don’t have to be ‘soft’ to be a good friend to a child or to an adult, for that matter
No indeed you don’t, it’s a term that has crossed my path only recently but seems to be growing in popularity. Being a friend to anyone can mean being fair and firm, understanding their needs as much as ‘being nice’.