We likely refer to them as little angels or demons. They are two-and-a-half feet tall, booger-dribbling, hair-pulling, drooling bundles of chaos.
Growing up without younger siblings, or extended family or friends without young siblings, I have lacked the experience of dealing with these little poop-machines, as I enjoy calling them to myself. With a new job as a soccer coach, I have become more familiar with the sight of unfounded smiles, empty and confused gazes and the all too common finger in the nose or mouth. These sights are commonly accompanied by screeches of joy, recognition or acknowledgement and displeasure.
As a coach, I am the unforgivable bringer of sadness and torment upon the little children for whom I calmly encourage to attempt the simple task at hand. Kick it, I urge them, as I demonstrate. Kick the ball! I am met with blank stares and a fresh load of drool or boogers. Behind them, their parents urge them on, perhaps somewhat too enthusiastically.
After many hours of watching their apparent confusion, I have gathered that these children are not, in fact, confused about what I am doing, or what they are supposed to be doing. They just seem very unsure of why they have to do it.
Quite simply, they must do it because the parents have decided that it is in their best interest. The child’s only interest at this time is to aimlessly run around the field, explore the grass and the surrounding shrubbery, and to maybe grab the soccer balls and cover them with a fresh layer of drool and boogers if they are feeling a boost of confidence. As a coach, it is my responsibility to ensure that the children are learning and remaining focused on the task at hand, much to the displeasure of my little poop-machines.
At such a young age, it is unrealistic to say that the child must decide everything for themselves, however I wonder if it is also unrealistic to emphasize the possibility of options and choice, and the consequences associated with these choices from the beginning.
Perhaps instead of shouting use your feet! when the child picks up the ball to run around with it in amazement, we could be asking them what it is exactly they were trying to do when they picked up the ball, and find other games to play with it once they have decided they will not relinquish it from their grasp without a solid five-minute cry into the leg of their mother or father.
My point is that the child has no interest in soccer yet, and quite simply most likely does not understand that they are even being told to try to play soccer. To them, I think they have simply been subjected to “organized playtime” in which the adult tries to teach the child what is fun and what is not, with the assistance of coaches such as myself to implement this organized methodology.
I question these things from the discomfort of choosing my own pivotal life decisions. Of course, we function on much different rational than young children, however I think the fundamental underlying concepts of why we steer towards certain directions remains the same. It is fun, or because it makes me happy, or because it is easy (especially as we get older) might be the most obvious and most common of these.
Certainly, life poses other obstacles to us that may sway us from our original intentions, and forces us to cope in different ways. However, I wonder if deciding these heavy life choices such as jobs or career goals would seem less painful, had we been presented with the concept of options and acceptance of choice or individual creativity while we were still little poop-machines.
It seems logical that rational decision making and personal growth and understanding would eliminate and solidify what is needed to build stronger children we raise to face the obstacles the world has presented us with.
I wait for the child who will challenge me because I have presented them with a task and given no real reason why. It seems to me that I am trapped in the same obstacle that they are in, only our consequences are different since I have hopefully graduated from diapers and training pants.
