How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk

In the excerpts on this page, I've highlighted some key parts in bold, and I've added in some of my own thoughts in dark blue.

The many comic strips in the book How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk are especially helpful. They make it so you can easily pop in and get the gist of what the authors are saying. It's just so much quicker to look at lots of examples in comic strip form than to read a bunch of text.

Denying feelings leads to not knowing what our feelings are and not trusting them

pp. 1 - 3

I was a wonderful parent before I had children. I was an expert on why everyone else was having problems with theirs. Then I had three of my own.

... though it was the last thing I ever dreamed I’d be doing, I joined a parent group. The group met at a local child-guidance center and was led by a young psychologist, Dr. Haim Ginott.

The meeting was intriguing. The subject was “children’s feelings,” and the two hours sped by. I came home with a head spinning with new thoughts and a notebook full of undigested ideas:

Direct connection between how kids feel and how they behave.

When kids feel right, they’ll behave right.

How do we help them to feel right?

By accepting their feelings!

Problem—Parents don’t usually accept their children’s feelings. For example:

“You don’t really feel that way.” “You’re just saying that because you’re tired.” “There’s no reason to be so upset.”

Steady denial of feelings can confuse and enrage kids. Also teaches them not to know what their feelings are—not to trust them.

After the session I remember thinking, “Maybe other parents do that. I don’t.” Then I started listening to myself. Here are some sample conversations from my home—just from a single day.

CHILD: Mommy, I’m tired.

ME: You couldn’t be tired. You just napped.

CHILD: (louder) But I’m tired.

ME: You’re not tired. You’re just a little sleepy. Let’s get dressed.

CHILD: (wailing) No, I’m tired!

CHILD: Mommy, it’s hot in here.

ME: It’s cold. Keep your sweater on.

CHILD: No, I’m hot.

ME: I said, “Keep your sweater on!”

CHILD: No, I’m hot.

CHILD: That TV show was boring.

ME: No, it wasn’t. It was very interesting.

CHILD: It was stupid.

ME: It was educational.

CHILD: It stunk.

ME: Don’t talk that way!

Can you see what was happening? Not only were all our conversations turning into arguments, I was also telling my children over and over again not to trust their own perceptions but to rely on mine instead.

Once I was aware of what I was doing, I was determined to change. But I wasn’t sure how to go about it. What finally helped me most was actually putting myself in my children’s shoes. I asked myself, “Suppose I were a child who was tired, or hot or bored? And suppose I wanted that all-important grown-up in my life to know what I was feeling . . . ?”

Over the next weeks I tried to tune in to what I thought my children might be experiencing, and when I did, my words seemed to follow naturally. I wasn’t just using a technique. I really meant it when I said, “So you’re still feeling tired—even though you just napped.” Or “I’m cold, but for you it’s hot in here.” Or “I can see you didn’t care much for that show.” After all, we were two separate people, capable of having two different sets of feelings. Neither of us was right or wrong. We each felt what we felt.

pp. 8 - 9

Now I’d like to share with you some of my personal reactions. When I’m upset or hurting, the last thing I want to hear is advice, philosophy, psychology, or the other fellow’s point of view. That kind of talk makes me only feel worse than before. Pity leaves me feeling pitiful; questions put me on the defensive; and most infuriating of all is to hear that I have no reason to feel what I’m feeling. My overriding reaction to most of these responses is “Oh, forget it. ... What’s the point of going on?”

But let someone really listen, let someone acknowledge my inner pain and give me a chance to talk more about what’s troubling me, and I begin to feel less upset, less confused, more able to cope with my feelings and my problem.

I might even say to myself, “My boss is usually fair. ... I suppose I should have taken care of that report immediately. ... But I still can’t overlook what he did. ... Well, I’ll go in early tomorrow and write that report first thing in the morning. ... But when I bring it to his office I’ll let him know how upsetting it was for me to be spoken to in that way. ... And I’ll also let him know that, from now on, if he has any criticism I would appreciate being told privately.”

The process is no different for our children. They too can help themselves if they have a listening ear and an empathic response. But the language of empathy does not come naturally to us. It’s not part of our “mother tongue.” Most of us grew up having our feelings denied. To become fluent in this new language of acceptance, we have to learn and practice its methods. Here are some ways to help children deal with their feelings.

TO HELP WITH FEELINGS

1. Listen with full attention.

2. Acknowledge their feelings with a word—“Oh” ... “Mmm” ... “I see.”

3. Give their feelings a name.

4. Give them their wishes in fantasy.

…

.. perhaps the most difficult is to have to listen to a child’s emotional outpourings and then “give a name to the feeling.” It takes practice and concentration to be able to look into and beyond what a child says in order to identify what he or she might be feeling. Yet it’s important that we give our children a vocabulary for their inner reality. Once they have the words for what they’re experiencing, they can begin to help themselves.

For most of us it doesn’t come naturally to say things like: “Boy, you sound angry!” or “That must have been a disappointment for you,” or “Hmm. You seem to be having some doubts about going to that party,” or “Sounds as if you really resent all that homework,” or “Oh, that must have been so frustrating!” or “To have a dear friend move away can be pretty upsetting.” And yet it’s statements like these that give children comfort and free them to begin to deal with their problems. (By the way, don’t worry about using words that are too big. The easiest way to learn a new word is to hear it used in context.) You may be thinking, “Well, in this exercise I was able to give an initial response that showed I understood—more or less. But where would the conversation go from there? How would I continue? Is it okay to give advice next?”

Hold off on giving advice. I know how tempting it is to try to solve a child’s problem with an immediate solution: “Ma, I’m tired.” “Then lie down and rest.” “I’m hungry.” “Then eat something.” “I’m not hungry.” “Then don’t eat.” Resist the temptation to “make better” instantly. Instead of giving advice, continue to accept and reflect on your child’s feelings.

Drawing to process through feelings (e.g., as an alternative to punching pillows)

pp. 30 - 33

We’ve heard many stories about angry children who have felt calmer after punching pillows, hammering old grocery cartons, pounding and kneading clay, roaring like a lion, throwing darts. But the one activity that seems most comfortable for parents to watch, and most satisfying for children to do, is to draw their feelings. The two examples that follow happened within a week of each other:

I had just come back from a workshop session and found my three-year-old son lying on the floor having a tantrum. My husband was just standing there looking disgusted. He said, “Okay, child specialist, let’s see if you can handle this one.” I felt I had to rise to the occasion. I looked down at Joshua, who was still kicking and screaming, and grabbed a pencil and the pad near the phone. Then I knelt down, handed the pencil and pad to Joshua, and said, “Here, show me how angry you are. Draw me a picture of the way you feel.”

Joshua jumped up immediately and began to draw angry circles. Then he showed it to me and said, “This is how angry I am!”

I said, “You really are angry!” and tore another piece of paper from the pad. “Show me more,” I said.

He scribbled furiously on the page, and again I said, “Boy, that angry!” We went through the whole thing one more time. When I handed him a fourth piece of paper, he was definitely calmer. He looked at it a long time. Then he said, “Now I show my happy feelings,” and he drew a circle with two eyes and a smiling mouth. It was unbelievable. In two minutes he had gone from being hysterical to smiling—just because I let him show me how he felt. Afterward my husband said, “Keep going to that group.”

At the next session of our group, another mother told us about her experience using the same skill.

When I heard about Joshua last week, my first thought was “How I wish I could use that approach with Todd.” Todd is also three, but he has cerebral palsy. Everything that comes naturally to other kids was monumental for him—standing without falling, keeping his head erect. He’s made remarkable progress, but he’s still so easily frustrated. Anytime he tries to do something and can’t, he screams for hours on end. There is no way in the world I can get through to him. The worst part is that he kicks me and tries to bite me. I guess he thinks that somehow his difficulties are all my fault, and that I should be able to do something about it. He’s angry at me most of the time.

On the way home from last week’s workshop I thought, “What if I catch Todd before he goes into his full tantrum?” That afternoon he was playing with his new puzzle. It was a very simple one, with just a few big pieces. Anyway, he couldn’t get the last piece to fit, and after a few tries he began to get that look on his face. I