I began journaling at age 9. As a child, journaling taught me how to self-soothe and to organize my thoughts and feelings.
As an adult, those journals serve as a reminder that children observe a lot more than we give them credit for.
I looked back at one of those early diaries recently and was surprised (and incredibly frustrated) to discover that many of the complaints I had about my parents then, still exist today.
Imagine if they had just taken me seriously back then!
Anyway, my takeaway from that revelation was this: while the youth and inexperience of children may prevent them from fully comprehending what they observe, that doesn’t make their perspectives any less valid.
And so, today’s writing prompt is dedicated to the child’s perspective.
What do you think makes a child's perspective different from an adult's? Let us know in the comments.
PRACTICE
Think of a person in your life who is age twelve or younger. The child can be anyone from your daughter to the kid you always see hanging around your favorite coffee shop.
Now take fifteen minutes to write a scene from the child’s perspective. Share in the comments section!
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Thank you for the post, Monica.
Right now in place of my own writing, I wanted to share something very relevant that I came across on Yahoo at this link (http://me.popsugar.com/mom/Boy-Autism-I-Am-New-Poem-40974765) and a link to the National Autism Association Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/NationalAutism/photos/a.419315444282.209733.299524134282/10154112555864283/?type=3)
“When 10-year-old Benjamin was given a school assignment to write a poem entitled “I Am” — using 18 prewritten prompts such as “I see,” “I hear,” and “I feel” — he could have written just about anything to fill in those blanks. However, Benjamin has autism, so his poem turned out to be an eye-opening look into what it feels like for him to be different. ” His mom posted it on the Facebook page. That page has a copy of the handwritten poem. I’m retyping it here so it fits.
I was STUNNED by this child’s perspective. It certainly gave me pause to consider all kinds of assumptions and all levels of kindness.
I am odd, I am new
I wonder if you are too
I hear voices in the air
I see you don’t, and that’s not fair
I want to not feel blue
I am odd, I am new
I pretend that you are too
I feel like a boy in outer space
I touch the stars and feel out of place
I worry what others might think
I cry when people laugh, it makes me shrink
I am odd, I am new
I understand now that so are you
I say I, “feel like a castaway”
I dream of a day that that’s okay
I try to fit in
I hope that someday I do
I am odd, I am new.
That’s so touching! And yes, I agree with you. Sometimes people make assumptions that can hurt others, but when someone makes it clear in a kind way that they are wrong, the world becomes better.
Thank you for this!
I guess this was a harder prompt than I thought!!
First post on here! Thanks for the prompt 🙂
It reaches my knees and tickles my skin as I run through the endless sea of green. In the distance I sense the line where the fields end and the sky begins, is that why mummy keeps shouting me to slow down? Will I eventually fall right off the end, like a drop of water dribbling from the tap?
I tell my legs to slow down and instead continue my hunt for a little friend. Gazing down at my wellington-clad feet, I wonder if I am standing in someone else’s footprints; if they too have felt the trees graze their legs and peered at the animals below them. Mummy calls it ‘grass’, but I prefer ‘trees’. I am a giant today. Giants don’t feel grass on their boots when they stomp over fields filled with little humans. They observe us from above the trees, above the clouds, busily running around.
Are we ants to them? I like to think we are. Ants spend their days scuttling through the fields, always surrounded by their ant-friends. I am no longer a giant. I am an ant.
Lovely!! I was carried along on the carefree journey. Delightful representation of the thought process and the senses experienced. Really loved the surprise of the sudden (but logical, given the circumstances) shift from giant to ant.
Thanks for posting and WELCOME!
I am told, “Be a good girl. You come from a good home Do not behave like those children who are not well brought up.” My mother said this as she cast furtive glances about her. I turned around and peered at the faces in the room The hall was full of parents sitting shoulder to shoulder with their daughters. I could hear them whispering together. My class mates were seven years old just like me. Is this not what other parents are telling their children too?
Grown-ups are all around me. They look at me with angry eyes. some twitch their skirts away from me. What have I done wrong? My mother looks at me with bitter eyes. Dad? Dad glares at me. His energy shouts at me that the razor strop is going to be out and lash around my body as soon as we get home. As soon as he gets me into my bedroom.
All I know is that the minister asked me what I remember most about my father, and I said that it is what happens after his opens up his trousers. And they’re always telling me that I must tell the truth. I don’t understand. All I know is that when they say I’m going to be sorry, they really mean it.