Sunday, October 18, 2009

The "Getting Embarrassed" phase

Ella has leaped full-force into a phase where she gets embarrassed.

Fortunately, she's not yet at the stage at which *I* embarrass her. (Frankly, I think that one is quite a distance in the future.) No, this stage is characterized by her embarrassment at just about everything that has to do with herself.

Examples: She's embarrassed about the sound of her own voice on tape. She's embarrassed to stumble over a word when she's reading. She's embarrassed on behalf of the villain, sometimes, when Columbo is homing in on the truth. She's embarrassed for me to see her when she's singing in a small group at chorus rehearsal. She's embarrassed at praise. She's embarrassed at love scenes in a movie. She's embarrassed at going first for something in a group.

I think this is a real sign of maturity, a new awareness of herself as someone who simultaneously acts in the world AND doesn't really know what she's doing yet. The second half of that sentence is the new bit. It's the emergence of the "is this the right thing in this situation? Damn, I don't have enough experience to know" filter. I remember the embarrassment that goes with this emerging sense, and the trapped feeling of additional embarrassment about not being able to handle the embarrassment smoothly.

As Ella has gotten older, I watch her starting to project ahead farther into the future. She is starting to realize how far she has to go, I think, before she can be confident in what she's doing, and I think this is part of what is making her skittish and embarrassed. She used to be supremely confident about just about everything, and that's no longer the case. I suspect she implicitly realizes that the standards of behavior won't always be simply externally set by parents; increasingly, she is going to have to start identifying those standards herself. She's not sure how to do this. It really is a very new filter...how to make sure you do the important things right, and how to shake off mistakes quickly for the things you do wrong, at the same time as learning from them.

Although this is difficult for a mother, I actually have decided that I don't want to rob Ella too quickly of the embarrassment, for a couple of reasons. First, because it is *hers*. It's her genuine emotion. I want her to feel what she feels for her own reasons, not because I tell her. If she decides to change her reaction, I want her to do so because she sees that it's reasonable to do so, not simply under pressure from me to slam it back.

Also, it's very useful as a kid to have the regular experience of doing the right thing *in spite of* one's emotions about it. For example, Ella should talk to me about certain things even if it makes her embarrassed to do so, *because* she shouldn't have to deal with things alone at her age (and because she should get in good practice for this when she's an adolescent). It's okay to be embarrassed about whatever it is, I tell her, but you can't let that get in your way of getting it done, you can't let it wilt you. So these small embarrassments can be very useful that way. This way, she both gets validated for the embarrassment ("I remember how hard that was for me, too...") but encouraged to push through it.

Another reason not to slam back the embarrassment is because it can be an extremely useful barometer for helping one do the right thing. Suppressing the emotion of embarrassment at minor infractions could lead to evasion as a mental habit, or unconcern with ethics entirely. I don't think there is much danger of this with Ella, but people *should* be embarrassed about embarrassing things; that's entirely rational. Not pleasant, but rational. Life is not always a bowl of cherries, and age 8 is the perfect time to start dealing with that, in minor and unimportant ways.

So as I've been talking with Ella about these things, my main strategy hasn't been to wipe away her embarrassment. Sometimes she won't tell me for a little while...she needs me to "make" her tell what's on her mind. That's fine, I do that, just patiently smiling and warm, telling her that it will feel a lot better after she has talked with me about it. (It does, too...that's true.)

Second, because I really do vividly remember exactly what this experience was like, I tell her that. Just hearing about how I understand really helps her. Hearing about how everyone else feels this way, too, especially the good people, helps her too. And hearing about how it will eventually just go away and she won't have this experience also helps.

Always, I assure Ella that no matter what, if things ever get hard, she always has us. It doesn't matter if she's 8 or 14 or 40, we can help her get through whatever has to be faced. Sometimes she literally crawls into my arms at that point and buries her beautiful little face in my shoulder. If she hasn't already told me what's worrying her, that usually works.

To be honest, there have been a couple of times that Ella was embarrassed so needlessly that I was able to tell her easily that this can be shaken off very fast. "Oh, you're embarrassed about that there was a grass stain on your coat? Really, Ella, you needn't be...no one gave it another thought, seriously, don't let it get in your way." And then I focus her attention elsewhere.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

This is a great post. It made me think a lot. I see a lot of kids feeling this way when they're approaching me at the library to ask a question, and I always feel so badly for them, but it's hard to know how to react to reassure them. I usually just try to smile and maybe crouch down to where they are, but maybe it would be helpful to say, "It's okay to ask a question." I'm going to try it.

Deb said...

You know what made the girls feel better about asking librarians questions? I have always told them: "She's a librarian. She LIVES to answer your questions. Questions from kids make her day."

It really works. They like the idea of making someone's day.

Anonymous said...

That is true. I would way rather answer a child's question than pretty much anything else I do. I hate to think of them not finding what they're looking for or maybe walking away thinking we didn't have something when it was maybe only waiting to be shelved or in an odd spot.

Deb said...

I think I'm going to describe this interchange between you and me in this week's e-newsletter, if you don't mind. It's a valuable lesson for parents: that the library can provide a great opportunity for kids to get over the embarrassment of asking questions, and they can make a librarian's day at the same time.

Anonymous said...

I think that would be great. Sometimes adults worry about bothering us, too, but, really, helping people is the number one part of our job--why most of us got into the field, really.