(Continued) Discussing with Yangyang’s father the strategies for first graders to pass the pinyin test and other topics
Yangyang’s father:
Hello, Teacher Ajia: I have a few questions for you. Yangyang has been making good progress lately. He just finished learning pinyin. He has no problem reading from the book, but he gets confused when he’s reading it alone. His teacher now has him reading picture books with pinyin at home. I’m a little confused. Watching him spell each word, he looks exhausted. He can’t even form a coherent sentence, and he often gets confused. It seems like he’s struggling, let alone understanding the content. I’m worried he’ll lose interest in reading on his own. He’s really not very patient with this method. I’m wondering if there’s any good way to help him. Are there any books with pinyin suitable for his situation?
2. After reading to my child, I sometimes ask him questions, but he’s reluctant to answer. Sometimes I tell him he must not have been listening carefully, otherwise he wouldn’t remember. Maybe I’m just too impatient. The other day I reread Naoki Matsui’s The Seed of Happiness. He doesn’t advocate asking children questions, and that makes sense. However, some argue that it’s better to let children ask questions or have them answer questions afterward. Isn’t asking questions more utilitarian? Have you ever made your child fall in love with reading books on this subject?
3. I made a red flag list for Yangyang from the beginning of the school year. It was divided into several major items, such as completing homework on time, helping adults with housework, brushing teeth on time, etc. Each time you complete an item, you get a small red flag. After a few days, except for completing homework on time every day, he couldn’t stick to the other things. A few days ago, he said, “Dad, you pay me for my housework.” I remembered the red flag list. Let’s put it this way, if you insist on completing one of the items we agreed on every day, you will get a small red flag. A small red flag is worth ten cents, and we will settle the bill at the end of the month. Since there was the temptation of money, he has been very active every day. My wife said that this is not okay. Doing homework is not good.
This is all natural, so why would he need money? This habit isn’t good. But I think it will greatly boost his motivation and help him learn about financial management. He can use his own earnings to buy things he likes. (Also, I want to say that Yangyang is such a thrifty kid. He used to erase and rewrite his homework notebooks, saying it would save money.) Do you think my method is worthwhile? Thank you, Teacher Ajia.
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Argentina: Regarding the first problem you mentioned, it is very common and the solution is very simple and clear.
While teachers suggest “reading books with pinyin at home,” this is a good idea, we must understand that it’s an exercise in learning pinyin and recognizing characters, not reading per se. This practice can be done moderately without dedicating too much time. At this stage, the two simplest strategies for guiding children to read are: first, adults should read to them joyfully; second, find books whose content and format particularly interest children and invite them to read them for fun, whether looking at the words or the pictures. In addition to picture books, it’s best to find enjoyable comics and comic books, provided the child enjoys them, even if they’re a little difficult. The principle is clear: never turn reading into spelling drills or other forms of grueling practice.
Regarding your second question, regarding books that help children fall in love with reading, I think Nao Matsui’s “Nao Matsui on Picture Books: The Seeds of Happiness” and “My Theory of Picture Books” are excellent in their own right. While they focus on picture book reading, they also contain profound wisdom about parenting and life. I also wrote a book called “Helping Children Fall in Love with Reading: A Handbook for Promoting Children’s Reading,” but it’s not specifically written for parents, and some sections may not be of interest to parents. In the book’s discussion of the principles of guiding children’s reading, I primarily draw on key ideas from books like Tillis’s “The Reading Handbook,” Chambers’s “Creating a Reading Environment for Children,” and Nordman’s “The Joy of Children’s Literature.” All of these books are currently available at Red Niba, but I recommend starting with “The Reading Handbook.” The latter two books are more technical and theoretical, and can be quite challenging.
Regarding the question of “whether to ask children questions after reading a book”, I don’t think it’s necessary to make a general and arbitrary conclusion. However, it is basically certain that if you leave a few probing questions for children every time after reading a book, this is one of the common shortcuts to effectively and significantly reduce children’s enthusiasm for reading, with few exceptions. But if I say “you must not ask children questions”, then I think adults (parents, especially teachers) will definitely be suffocated. Because I am also a father, I can deeply understand that when an adult stands in front of a child “quite authoritatively” without asking a few questions or saying a few words, it is extremely difficult, and it may really suffocate people to death, haha~
Reading with children is both the child’s and the adult’s business, and it should be enjoyable for both parties, right? Constantly pestering children with questions makes them unhappy, which is naturally not good. However, constantly prohibiting adults from asking questions also makes them unhappy (or even suffocating), which is naturally not good either. What should we do?
So, in practice, I generally recommend a more balanced approach. Adults should still ask questions, but how and what to ask should be considered. For example, before I have the urge to bother my child with a question, I hold back and wait a moment, asking myself the following question: What is the purpose of this question? I generally categorize questions into three types:
The first type is when you genuinely want to ask a child a question, or when you’re an adult and you’re really confused (this happens to me a lot), or you’re just curious and want to understand what the child is thinking. These questions are top-notch, so feel free to ask more. Just be sincere and don’t act like an adult. Don’t be ashamed to ask!
The second type involves questions you ask when you’ve found something interesting and feel you have a unique perspective, hoping to catch your child’s attention and show off in front of them. These questions are considered moderate and require careful questioning, and a less aggressive attitude (this has been a recipe for failure), as children may have their own, perhaps even better, opinions. Of course, these so-called “questions” are primarily about sharing the joy of reading. Children will be more receptive to them if you engage in an equal exchange and avoid impersonating adults.
The third type involves questions asked out of concern that the child hasn’t understood and wanting to test them, or knowing they already understand and wanting to reinforce their impression, or knowing they don’t understand and wanting to show off their prowess. These questions are of the lower order, and the latter is especially so. It’s best to refrain from asking these kinds of questions, even if you’re truly choking—and in fact, so far, there haven’t been any such cases. However, if you do manage to ask one or two of these questions, don’t feel guilty or worried. Trust your child’s resilience. Haven’t we all been there? We’ve been victims of this kind of parenting for so many years, and haven’t we survived just as well?
But, Confucius taught us: Do not do to others what you do not want others to do to you. — Try your best and don’t make it a second time.
Regarding the third question, it naturally reminds me of a little story.
This is probably a joke. There was an old man who lived in a house near a square. He was generally a little afraid of noise, but what he feared most was the discarded bottles and cans in the square. Children passing by on their way to and from school loved to kick and play with them, and the harsh, irregular noise was unbearable for the old man. He wanted to run out and stop them, but calming down seemed pointless. So he pondered and finally came up with a brilliant plan.
The next day, he met a few boys who seemed to be the leaders of the children and enthusiastically told them that he loved the sound of children kicking cans. He wanted to invite them to kick cans every day and give them a dollar a day. Of course, the children agreed. They loved kicking cans anyway, and now someone was paying them, so why not? So they came every day to kick cans, and the old man actually paid them.
But a few days later, the old man came to them, looking a little worried. He said the stock market had dropped that week, and he was a little tight on cash, but he still really wanted to hear the kids play kick the can. Could they offer a discount, fifty cents per person per day? The kids were a little unhappy. “How could there be a discount for something like that?” But it was better than nothing, so they continued playing.
A few days later, the old man stopped them in a distressed tone, saying that the stock market had crashed and he was bankrupt, but he really wanted to hear that beautiful sound and asked if they could continue to kick the can for free. The children were furious and said, “Tsk—who would want to kick the can without paying?” From then on, the sound of kicking the can was rarely heard in the square.
Lao Tzu teaches us: “Do not honor the virtuous, and the people will not quarrel; do not value rare goods, and the people will not steal; do not show what is desirable, and the people’s hearts will not be disturbed.” Applying this principle to the issue of childrearing is also very enlightening. People have very natural things, which are inherently joyful. However, once conceptual distinctions are made, once they are linked to interests and values, they begin to detract from their value.
This isn’t to say that I think spiritual rewards like putting up red flags or applying red flowers, or material rewards like paying for housework or calculating work points, are bad or something we shouldn’t do. Quite the contrary, I do them myself from time to time. We get 1–2 yuan per dishwashing (depending on the difficulty) because that’s the environment we live in; it’s the “nature” we currently inhabit.
However—and I think this is particularly important—we should not ignore the harm of this method. I think the most fatal harm of this method is that it may cause children to lose the joy of it and find it difficult to achieve peace of mind by strengthening deep practice.
Sun Tzu teaches us: “If you do not know the harm of employing troops, you do not know the benefits of employing troops.” Soldiers must be employed, but only by understanding their harm can we properly grasp the appropriate measures, thereby maximizing their benefits and minimizing their harms.
For example, let’s talk about specific tasks, like housework. While we have a clearly marked price for housework in our house, there are a few additional principles. For example, chores that are your own responsibility don’t count; the money earned must have a clear purpose (for example, my daughter said it was for miscellaneous expenses, workbooks, or a gift for a friend, and I wholeheartedly agree with all of this); we recommend setting up a self-managed account; and we especially encourage community service, which is fun! — Indeed, my daughter often claims to do it for free, and she enjoys it immensely.
Aristotle taught us: The essence of life lies in the pursuit of happiness! — I understand that this is the most important and difficult part in educating children.
For example, cooking, a household chore, is not enjoyable if it’s simply a necessity for survival. It requires some form of reward, like red flags, red flowers, or wages. But chores themselves can also be joyful. It’s said that the renowned director John Woo enjoys spending time in the kitchen cooking when he’s not filming. If you can appreciate that something is inherently joyful, then any spiritual or material rewards become completely unnecessary, even an insult or a poison that erodes happiness.
But how can we make children realize that reading itself is happiness, learning itself is happiness, taking care of one’s own life itself is happiness, doing housework itself is happiness, life itself is happiness, being alive itself is happiness… How can we make them realize this?
This is a difficult problem, a very difficult problem, because, have we experienced it ourselves?
Regarding the third question, here’s what I think. Fellow caring fathers, let’s encourage each other.
