Because I said so

You’ve probably gathered by now that my beliefs about how to Be With children have been fundamentally shaped by both Montessori education and Attachment Theory, specifically the Circle of Security program.

But if I’m being honest, I was already good with kids before I took the Montessori training. I’m a big sister, an older cousin, and someone who’s always loved being with kids, so there was a lot I knew even before I started babysitting.

One thing I knew in particular was that I always wanted to explain things to children, as best as I could. I still get comments from other adults sometimes about how I take time to explain everything. What they don’t know is that I do this because of how much I loathed the phrase “Because I said so” as a child.

“Because I said so” was something I heard a lot, because I asked the question “why?” a lot. I wasn’t trying to be difficult when I asked this; I just liked knowing what was going on, and understanding it.

But often, when I asked “why?”, it seemed like adults were annoyed at the fact that I was asking. Rather than explain things to me - which would’ve satisfied my curiosity, at which point I would’ve stopped arguing about it - I was often told, “Because I said so,” which never failed to infuriate me (and generally, caused me to keep arguing).

Like, yes, I know you said so. But why?

As someone who still feels immense satisfaction when things make sense to me, when a child asks me why - which might actually be their very favorite question - I try to remember how I felt as a kid, when the world was so confusing and I had so little control of my life. So I try to give them the answer I would’ve wanted: clear and age-appropriate, without lecturing. Just enough so they can understand and move on.

I extend this philosophy into questions that wouldn’t make anyone say “Because I said so,” but might make them respond in other ways - maybe inventing an answer, getting flustered, or making it clear that they want the child to stop asking questions. (I once heard about a parent who would say, “Now why would you ask a stupid question like that?” every time their child asked a question they didn’t know the answer to. How’s that for a way to kill curiosity?)

However it is that children’s questions are shut down, I think it has an effect on them - and it can easily escalate into an unnecessary conflict. For me as a child, it made me feel unheard and misunderstood. I hated the assumption that I was just trying to argue, because it felt like my curiosity was being mistaken for orneriness. I felt like I already didn’t have a choice but to do what I was told, so the least I could be given was an explanation. I’ve noticed that when I see kids ask questions and get this response, they react with much more frustration than when they’re given clear answers.

And what’s been really interesting as I’ve done my best to always answer children’s questions is that they respond to my explanations in two surprising and wonderful ways.

Firstly, they are capable of understanding more than I ever thought possible at such young ages. This has driven me to try more and more lessons with them, because they always astonish me with what they can understand and remember. (S/o to the three year old who asked me “Why does the sun rise?” causing me to stop short and think, To adequately answer that question, I’d have to explain the structure of the solar system. So that’s what I did - and I was amazed at how much my class of three’s understood!) (Also to the five year old who asked me how continents could move when I told him about Pangaea, and when I explained that continents are solids that sit on a layer of liquid magma, he looked at me straight-faced and said, “So they’re floating.” I nearly spontaneously combusted.)

Secondly, it’s my observation that children feel immensely respected and grateful for any adult who takes the time to explain things to them, and because of this they are more likely to do things that I ask of them. I’m a pragmatist; I will do whatever works best, whatever makes life easiest with the fewest negative outcomes. And I’ve found that by taking a few seconds to think and answer questions clearly, I save countless minutes of conflict with children who don’t appreciate my say-so.

I notice that children often have very little experience being taken seriously, because most adults are thrown off by how cute they are. And they are cute! But they are also very serious little people, and they take themselves seriously. When they’re laughed at or teased, they notice, even if they don’t understand - and unfortunately, this happens a lot, even from well-meaning and loving adults.

When I talk about this with adults, I like to say that kids are brand new. They don’t know anything! They’ve never done anything! They don’t have any perspective! They have nothing but curiosity, active brains, and impressive memories. But their perspective is so limited that all the information they know still leaves huge gaps in the picture of the big wide world around them. Because of this, they’re constantly making observations and connections that wouldn’t occur to adults, and unfortunately, this is often very funny to us, and we might tease or laugh at them. They ask questions that would never occur to adults, who make them feel silly with our answers.

The adult might not say “Now why would you ask a stupid question like that?” out loud - but sometimes, the way they answer (or refuse to answer) the question says exactly that.

I know that sometimes it’s impossible to help from laughing. Kids are so charming! It’s cute and funny when they misunderstand things or don’t know things that are obvious to us. But as much as possible, I try not to laugh at them, or act like their questions are silly. Typically, sometimes while hiding a smile, I say, “That’s a great question,” or “I’m so glad you asked!” and take a breath to figure out how to answer succinctly. Then I try to give them my most serious possible answer.

In return, children listen solemnly, then they will often ask another question, or share some information that I’ve reminded them of with my answer. This might be completely unrelated - like if I’ve just answered a question about fish and mentioned that they come out of eggs, the child might say, “Turtles come out of eggs.” Are turtles relevant to the life cycle of fish? No, not really, but isn’t it cool that now this child has a mental connection that both turtles and fish are born from eggs? So that’s what I would acknowledge in my response. Sometimes the connection between your explanation and their next comment is less clear, but there is always something. Part of the fun of these conversations is trying to figure out how, exactly, what they’re saying relates to what I just told them. It’s like a puzzle!

The conversations children can have when you offer them real answers are incredible. They can jump from subject to subject, and the amount of information they can retain is truly stunning. Montessori used to say that children until the age of 6 have an “Absorbent Mind,” which I have found to be incredibly true.

Montessori also liked to talk about how children have an innate sense of dignity, and I think she’s right about this as well. I think that by answering children’s questions with the seriousness with which they’re asked, we are offering them dignity, and they will return the favor.

To be clear - I know why parents say “Because I said so.” It’s because sometimes children ask so many dang questions and you just don’t have the energy or time to answer the freaking question; or maybe the baby just had a blow out; or maybe the three year old just took the scissors to her hair and she’s about to get her shirt; or maybe the ceiling just started leaking AND somebody’s at the door. Life is hectic, and parents (and teachers!) do not have time to answer every single question. We’d be here all day!

The benefit of making the effort to answer questions as much as possible, though, is that in these moments of crisis, the child whose curiosity is well-sated has the capacity to give you a little grace. In these moments, when I’ve asked a five-year-old to do something I don’t usually ask them to do to help me, and they ask, “Why?” - I don’t say “Because I said so.”

But I do say, “Because I asked you to.”

I think there’s a fundamental difference between these two statements. “Because I said so” means “Because I’m the boss, and I’m ordering you to do it. Stop asking questions.”

“Because I asked you to” means, “Because you know me, and you know I have a good reason, and that I would explain it to you if I could. So please do this thing right now, and when I have a moment, I will explain my reasoning.”

You might think they don’t pick up on the difference, but the thing is - they never fight me when I say this. They just do what I asked them to do. And then, like I promised them in subtext, when I’m able to, I explain my reasoning.

The emphasis on children’s dignity is one of my favorite aspects of Montessori philosophy, and answering their questions with seriousness is one way I try to show my respect for the child’s sense of self. In return, they show me respect, and offer me the gift of their thoughts, which never cease to amaze me.

What’s the best question your child asked recently?