My ten-year-old son, Ethan, recently took it upon himself to learn Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” on the piano. He only had a few months of lessons last year, but after his father fell ill, the logistics of juggling piano lessons with soccer, basketball, gymnastics, and everyday life became overwhelming. Despite this, he still sits at the piano every day, experimenting with melodies.
Ethan excels in school, consistently earning straight As. He’s a talented goalie on his soccer team and even scored 8 points in a recent basketball game. He can solve any Rubik’s Cube you present to him and knows fascinating facts about the solar system. He crafts handwritten thank-you notes and generally behaves well. I often find myself thinking that he has the potential to change the world someday, though I’m not quite sure how.
I don’t share this to boast but to provide context.
Recently, one of my online writings attracted a barrage of hateful comments aimed at me and my children. A surprising number of derogatory and judgmental remarks were aimed our way. As a writer who publicly shares her thoughts, I’ve learned to develop thick skin. I typically respond to feedback with intelligence and grace, or sometimes I choose to ignore it altogether and move on. But when it comes to disparaging my children, that’s where I draw the line.
One individual, whom I’ve never met, referred to my children as “bastard kids” in a comment. My four young ones, who are still reeling from the loss of their father to cancer just two months ago, are apparently despicable in her eyes. I know nothing about this woman—whether she is married, has children, or has ever experienced a significant loss. I wouldn’t judge her for her words, but I can’t help but feel that if she views innocent children this way, she might have a harsh reckoning ahead.
Another commenter claimed that I shouldn’t have had kids—or at least not “so many” if I couldn’t “control them.” This person, who has never seen Ethan’s jubilant high fives after scoring, or looked into the loving eyes of my daughters, has the audacity to suggest they shouldn’t exist. His disdain for children is starkly evident in his spiteful words.
I can already predict the responses I’ll receive: “Why do you care what strangers think?” “Don’t let them get to you.” But here’s the thing: I have enough resilience to handle life’s disappointments, but my children don’t. What troubles me is the existence of people who are so cold and uncaring that they project their negativity onto innocent kids. It’s disheartening to think that many of these individuals are raising children who, through their actions and words, will learn to be just as cruel.
These unkind people are all around us—they could be our coworkers, grocery clerks, or even our neighbors. Their negativity can create a ripple effect, producing a new generation of unkind individuals. That reality is hard to digest.
Growing up, my mother often said, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” She repeated this so frequently that I thought it was an undeniable truth. In today’s digital age, where a nasty comment is just a click away, I often wonder what satisfaction people derive from being unkind, especially when it comes at the expense of someone’s feelings. Is it really acceptable to belittle someone under the guise of “free speech”? Shouldn’t we be teaching our children self-control, empathy, and respect for others, no matter their differences? Perhaps my mother’s advice should be a rule we all follow.
As I watch Ethan play the piano each day, I feel a deep sadness thinking about how anyone could have negative thoughts about him. Who could find fault with a boy whose life revolves around riding bikes, building forts, and walking his dog? How could anyone view him as anything less than a child who believes in the goodness of people and the world?
I know that soon enough—sooner than I’d like—he’ll encounter mean-spirited individuals who will try to tear him down. The same goes for my daughters. It’s a difficult reality to accept; no parent can fully shield their children from the harshness of the world.
But here’s the silver lining: we can teach our children to be kind. We can instill in them the importance of not being critical of others. We can encourage them to smile at strangers instead of scowling and remind them that not every opinion needs to be shared, especially if it might hurt someone. We can teach them that if they don’t have anything nice to say, they should keep quiet.
These young people will grow up to be compassionate and respectful adults. They will understand the impact of their words, choosing to uplift rather than harm. Those are the kinds of individuals who can truly change the world.
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In summary, while we cannot shield our children from the world’s negativity, we can teach them kindness and compassion. By doing so, we prepare them to be the change-makers of the future.
Keyphrase: Teaching Kindness to Children
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