I had an interesting exchange about parenting via Twitter last night.  One person I follow sent out a “tweet” about trying to get his 6-month old to sleep.  Another person I follow responded with something to the effect of: “…Ferber is your friend.”  I challenged him on that, and an interesting “twitversation” ensued.

I’m sure most of you are familiar with what I’ll simply refer to as the Sleep Wars.  In education, we have the Reading Wars between supporters of whole language instruction and supporters of phonics-based instruction.  In parenting, I find a similar dichtoomy.  When it comes to facilitating sleep for children, there are those that support and/or practice the “cry it out” method widely attributed to Dr. Ferber (many, in fact, refer to this method as “Ferberizing” your child).  Then there are those that don’t “Ferberize.”  There are certainly variants of the “cry it out” method, and even Dr. Ferber has softened his stance a bit.

My wife and I have never let our son cry for more than a minute or two without comforting him in some way.  That’s a fairly unusual approach, and that was reinforced last night as other Twitterers mentioned their “success” with the Ferber method.  One of my followers did offer his allegiance to my stance, and that was nice.  But, overall, this was another reminder of how marginal my wife and I are with respect to our parenting orientation.  Beyond just the sleep issue, there are many aspects of parenting where we think and act differently than the vast majority of parents.  That sort of marginalization can be isolating and frustrating; loneliness is not an uncommon feeling.  In one of my final “tweets” last night, I suggested that I would stop tweeting and go back to my natural and attachment parenting island.

Marginalized feelings notwithstanding, an amazing thing (or series of things) has happened for my wife (and, therefore, for me and my son).  When we moved to Virginia, we imagined it would be especially hard for her to find like-minded mothers with whom she could socialize and from whom she could find support.  After all, this was the heart of the Confederacy and a “red state.”  However, in the month or so before we moved here, my wife did a little Internet research and found a Richmond-based support group through Attachment Parenting International.  She contacted the coordinator of that group, started meeting others in the group after we moved here, and remains friendly with the coordinator still.  Then, shortly after moving down here, she learned of a Richmond-based “natural and attachment parenting” (NAP) group that maintains a very active online forum.  There are over 100 members of the forum, at least a dozen or so of whom are regular contributors to the forum.  My wife is reading or posting to the forum nearly every free moment she has, and she (and my son) attend a lot of playdates and events arranged through the forum.  Real friendships with like-minded mothers are developing as a result.

I’ve written about the power of hybrid (virtual + face-to-face) communities in the education contexts (see e.g. this blog post).  For my wife, this hybrid natural and attachment parenting (NAP) community has comforted her in so many ways.  She is a happier and more confident person now that she has the support and collegiality of these women.

In his book on Unconditional Parenting, Alfie Kohn jokes that instead of using “brain surgery” as the standard bearer of all things difficult, when trying to suggest that he is doing something that is easy or simple, he’ll say, “it’s not like I’m parenting or anything.”  Parenting IS incredibly difficult, but like most things in life, it can be so much easier when you have support from a community.  I would also add that for those who feel marginalized in any way, the community-building capacity of the Internet is an extraordinary development.  It has been amazing for us.

In September of 2007, Jon, Jacqui and Drew Becker (and their two cats Willie and Ubie) left the familial comforts of New York and relocated to Richmond, Virginia. There, Jon works as an assistant professor of educational leadership at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU); Jacqui maintains a small, private psychotherapy practice. Jon also blogs at Educational Insanity. Read more about Jon on the Dads page…

In September of 2007, Jon, Jacqui and Drew Becker (and their two cats Willie and Ubie) left the familial comforts of New York and relocated to Richmond, Virginia. There, Jon works as an assistant professor of educational leadership at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU); Jacqui works part-time in the VCU Counseling Center and maintains a small, private psychotherapy practice. Jon also blogs at Educational Insanity. Read more about Jon on the Dads page…

Last week, Drew (now 3, going on 33) took a renewed interest in a set of animal finger puppets he’s had since birth. My brilliant wife Jacqui decided to use the puppets as an opportunity to introduce Drew to the idea of preschool (he’ll be starting preschool in the Fall). So, one puppet (the butterfly he named “Boopy”) was designated the teacher; the others were the students. When it came time for me to join in, Drew asked me to be the teacher. No problem. So, in my best butterfly voice, I said, “OK, now is time for free play. All students can go do whatever they’d like. The sandbox. The arts & crafts table. The blocks.” Drew gave me the evil eye (which is actually quite cute, I must say) and said profoundly, “NO. The teacher has to tell them what to do!” [NOTE: As I'm writing this, I'm realizing that those early classes he did with Jacqui at Gymboree may be to blame; he was always the only kid in those classes who followed the teacher's directions step-by-step].

This interaction concerned me. NOT because it made me believe that humans are inherently predisposed to direct instruction, but because Jacqui and I made a very conscious decision to send Drew to a preschool that espouses AND enacts the Reggio Emilia approach to early childhood education. That means that there will be lots of “free play” and (hopefully) not much teacher-directed learning. I’m an educator and Jacqui’s a psychologist and we both very much believe in learning-by-doing and learning by constructing meaning and learning in relationship to others and, and, and… Does his reaction to me indicate that he’s expecting structure? Didn’t he get the memo?

I’m also reminded of an article I read on ESPN.com around Fathers Day. LZ Granderson wrote a great article about his 11 year-old son’s desire to give up playing sports to learn photography. Granderson’s a sportswriter and a huge sports fan, so this decision by his son was hard to accept. Well, I’m not a sportswriter, but I am a huge sports fan. And before we had a child, I had all kinds of thoughts and dreams about playing sports with my child. I was going to coach little league baseball and softball. I couldn’t wait.

To this point, Drew has shown very little interest in playing with balls or watching sports with daddy. He also just had his 3-year checkup at the doctor. His height has been consistent…consistently at the 3rd percentile. Our doctor in NY said, “someone has to be at the 3rd percentile!” But, he has to love sports. I have to coach him in little league. Didn’t he get the memo?

I’m quite mindful of Christian’s earlier post here and our tendency to make too much out of brief singular moments in the life of our first child. But, I do have to remind myself from time to time that Drew’s life is an open book. I cannot write the chapters ahead of time. I need to do what I expect at least his preschool teachers to do and let him make his own meaning of the world.

Then again, Christian, if he wants to become a Red Sox fan, I’ll have to do something about that. I mean, didn’t he get the memo?

Jon Becker started dating his wife, Jacqui, when they were 16 and 15 respectively.  Despite attending college separately, they got married nearly nine years after their first date.  Then, nearly six years after their wedding, they defended their dissertations (in different fields at different universities) 15 minutes apart from each other (no joke)! A couple of years after that, they welcomed their son Drew (Andrew, if you want to be formal about it) to the world.  In September of 2007, Jon, Jacqui and Drew (and their two cats Willie and Ubie) left the familial comforts of New York and relocated to Richmond, Virginia.  There, Jon works as an assistant professor of educational leadership at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU); Jacqui works part-time in the VCU Counseling Center and maintains a small, private psychotherapy practice. Jon also blogs at Educational Insanity.  Read more about Jon on the Dads page…

Drew turned three a little over a week ago.  Apparently, he turned three and simultaneously turned on the “how come?” switch.  Nearly everything we say is met with an immediate inquiry…the same one…”how come?”  As an educator and avid learner, I love his new desire to understand the world around him.  And, Jacqui the psychologist assures me that this is a perfectly natural development.  But, parenting the “how come?” child is not easy.  Jacqui loves it and thinks it’s all a lot of fun.  I, on the other hand, am totally stressed out by it all.  I feel like I’m back in law school facing the Socratic teaching method (I’m thinking of starting to call my son Socrates, what do you think?).  I feel like I have to explain everything correctly; I can’t let him down.  Here’s a synopsis of what occurred tonight:

• Me: “Drew, come to your room so I can change your diaper.”
• Drew: “How come?” (what else did you expect?)
• Me: “Because you have poop in your diaper.”
• Drew: “How come?“

So, where do I go with that?  Do I have to explain the whole digestive process?  He’s only 3!

It’s pretty interesting because, at least for me, parenting has been a three-year-long (and counting) inquisition.  I loved fellow daddy blogger Christian’s point about how the neighbors are (in fact) watching.  Everyone, it seems, has strong opinions about parenting and nobody is afraid to share them.  Jacqui and I have been “practicing” (perfect word, because we are always working to get better) parenting in accord with many of the principles commonly associated with attachment parenting.  This, I believe, puts us at the margins as parents.  It has certainly caused many, including those closest to us, to question our judgment(s).  The “how comes?” are not usually spoken, but they’re pretty obvious.  Drew is still breastfeeding.  “How come?”  Drew often shares our bed with us.  “How come?”  We pick Drew up when he wants.  “How come?”

The generic answer to all or most of those unasked but obvious questions is that our parenting orientation is the result of careful deliberation and lots of learning.  More importantly, we parent according to what we believe, in our hearts and minds, is right for Drew.  And, I’m sure that same philosophy will get me through his current developmental stage.  I’ve already taken a page out of my professorial playbook and used the old, “I don’t know; that’s a good question, though.”  I believe that’s a better approach than making something up.  You might disagree.  Or, you might ask, “how come?”…