A Child’s Spirit for Learning
Swen Nater

I have a two-month old grandson, Chase Maxwell. He’s a happy baby boy, that is, after he’s rested, fed, and changed. Actually, I’ve never seen a happier baby. He smiles a lot and he enjoys just sitting on my lap and looking around. Sometimes, I turn him around so we’re looking at each other. That’s when the smiles come. Of course, I’ve learned various ways of coaxing him to smile. For example, when he’s looking at me with a serious face, I get my face a little closer, shake my head, smile, and say stuff like, “Gagga boo boo,” “What’s in that cute little belly?” and “Are you grandpa’s little boy?” He moves his head a little, side to side, and then it happens. The ends of his cute little mouth begin to curl up, his eyes get squinty, his arms begin to raise, his legs kick, and a huge open-mouthed gummy smile appears as his eyes completely close.

When Chase is not smiling, he’s learning other things. In fact, when he’s not eating or sleeping, he’s learning. Babies are born learners. From the moment they arrive, they are trying to make sense out of their surroundings. They attempt to imitate the facial expressions of the people holding them. They learn to recognize voices, faces, and places. Almost every day, Chase is learning something new or better. He’s got smiling down pat but right now he’s trying to figure out how to use his arms and hands. He’ll be lying there looking at me and, all of a sudden, his left arm will shoot up over his head. I think it surprises him. “Was that me that did that?” His arm will stay up high and wave around like a bull-riding rodeo cowboy. Sometimes both hands will shoot straight out in front of him and he’ll see one of them. His little mouth puckers up as if he wants to say, “Oh, what is that?” Day-by-day, and try-by-try, Chase is learning that he has something to do with those arms moving.

I talk to him a lot. Most of the time he just looks at me or smiles. But sometimes he tries to talk too. When he tries, his mouth opens and he moves his tongue in, out, right, and left. He knows that tongue has something to do with making a sound because he did it before, but he just can’t get it in the right place. Once in a while, he’ll be successful. He’s got one vowel down, “Ooo” like in “Cool.” When he makes a sound, he suddenly gets a sober look like he heard something weird. I’m not sure he knows he made that sound himself but soon, he will, and when he does, we won’t be able to shut him up. 

Back to the arms. When his arms begin to move, I’ll put my fist about one foot from his face and say, “Give grandpa a fist pump.” When he makes contact (rarely), I say, “Yeah, Chase. Good boy. You gave grandpa a fist pump.”

Right now, Chase Maxwell has a spirit about him—a spirit of excitement, trying, discovery, and learning. It’s his favorite thing to do. Well, it’s the only thing he can do right now. But he likes learning and I’m doing everything I can to help him. What am I doing? I’m providing recognition when he does something. When he makes a sound, I say, “Yep. That’s right, Chase.” And then I shut up in case he wants to say more. When he lifts his arm, I lift my arm and say, “Yeah” or something like that. Heck, I even give him praise when he fills his diaper. “Ooh! That was a good one. Got more?”

Chase has a spirit for learning. He loves it. In just a few months, he will begin crawling. He’ll say his first word (hopefully, “ball” or “rebound”), and take his first step. He’ll start learning how to throw food from his highchair (with proper follow-through), put on his own clothes, be a helper, put his toys away, build something, and play with other children. 

Chase will continue to learn at his own pace, which is pretty fast. I really can’t do much to accelerate his learning, except introduce him to new things. Soon, I’ll take him to museums, the zoo, or just give him Legos, show him how I build something, and let him do his own thing. I’m committed to “Guided Learning.” There will be times when I say, “Chase, let’s go out and work on that jump shot,” but for the most part, I just want to give him the freedom to learn what he wants to learn and give him a few tips here and there. Too much of doing what I want to do, and I’ll quench that spirit for learning. 

I can also quench that spirit by raising my voice, being critical, and focusing on what he did wrong instead of what he did right. If I discipline him, it will be to improve and correct, not to punish. And when he’s just downright belligerent, I’ll stay calm, smile, and give him the opportunity to make his own changes by asking, “So what did you do?” “What happened when you did that?” and “What do you think about that?” 

When he starts going to school, I hope his teachers do the same. I hope they let him learn, not make him. I hope, when he makes a mistake, they see the good in it and tell him. I hope they never raise their voices, and never punish but correct. I hope they set high expectations and show him they believe in him. If they do, watch out! With his excitement for discovery and learning, they will empower him. If you end up being one of his teachers, don’t be surprised when, after you have guided him to learn something, he gives you a fist pump. Grandpa taught him that.