Kids Will Be Kids

I began to shriek like someone possessed when I saw this article on the front page of the Sunday Styles. 

Right there, for all the world to see, is a description of how our children don't behave in shul. 

Practically every time I am in a shul, ranging from chassidish, to heimish, to yeshivish, to Young Israel, to modern, a child, at some point, managed to disturb my davening.

While the author details it from a bar/bas mitzvah age issue, it certainly goes further back than that. If a child is led to believe that a shul is nothing more than a glorified playground, why should that magically change when that kid reaches 10, 11, 12? 

Via alphamom.com

A woman I know has no problem going off to the city for a shopping trip sans her toddler. But on Shabbos she'll arrive with a whiny two year old and start davening Shmoneh Esrei, while he loudly clamors for the attention she conveniently can't give. (By the way, if your child is making noise and disturbing others, one can step out of Shmoneh Esrei for that). 

Everyone likes to invoke the "old country" when it is convenient. OK, you wanna know how it worked in the alteh heim?

On yomim noraim, the shul in Ma's hometown hired a gentile woman to keep everyone under the age of 17 out. That's right, 17. And whoever was allowed in never sat near their mothers; they all went to the back. Think of the reverence and respect that 17 year old felt, finally permitted to enter shul on Rosh HaShana.

When my uncle was three, Babi insisted that Zeidy should take him to shul. "He won't know anything!" But Zeidy was adamant. "If he fidgets once . . . he'll disturb mine and everyone else's davening. No." My uncle takes both his davening and his learning very seriously; he emerged childhood "unscathed." 

The article describes how a school throws a faux-bar mitzvah in order to instruct the children on basic good manners. 

Considering how many girl-dating stories (plenty on the blogosphere) are of supreme cads, I wonder if it can be boiled down to the simple fact that we assume our kids will have grasped manners by a certain age, instead of actively teaching them. 

Children, in general, learn by observation. Is it possible that their role models are lacking? How do we each feel about the sanctity of the shul? Is it a burden to attend, or a joy? We cannot help but to socialize, but do we know when silence is absolutely paramount? 

Rabbi Adam Englander, a principal at the Hillel Day School of Boca Raton in Florida, lectures students three or four times a year about their behavior at bar and bat mitzvahs. He believes the new interest in decorum represents a larger shift in society.

“In my opinion, I don’t see it as a function of kids being poorly mannered,” he said. “I see it more as a function of schools being involved in much more than education. Schools are increasingly being asked to take on roles that years ago would have been considered the realm of parents.”

Stressed-out parents have less time to raise their children, he said. And with synagogues and day schools competing for customers, the misconduct of students often reflects poorly on the institutions they attend. “If one or two of my kids misbehave, even though it’s a weekend, I’m going to hear about it on Monday,” Rabbi Englander said. “That wouldn’t have happened 20 or 30 years ago. The inclination would have been to call the parents.” 

Schools have been distinctly loaded with more and more expectations. Once, if a student was failing academically, the parents blamed their kid for not applying himself. Now, it's the teacher's fault.  

What of these AWOL parents?

Mr. Jasgur said. “Today’s kids are just overprogrammed. Their focus isn’t there. Many of their parents are also part of this younger generation, so it’s not their fault. It’s the way they were raised.” 

I dunno . . . 

A member of my shul, in his mid 30s, arrives every week on time. He brings his two boys with him, very young. But they sit straight in their chairs. They are quiet. They never fidget. Exactly like their father, who never talks, slouches, or yawns. His focus is strictly on prayer, his back ramrod straight. If davening gets too long for his kids, they simply put their heads down quietly on the table.

When I was their age, I was running around outside trying not to get grass stains on my new white mary-janes. Note I emphasize "outside."

Kids will be kids. I don't deny that; after all, I was one once. But that means that there are certain areas in life they don't get to be a part of, yet. Like driving. Like voting. Like algebra. 

The Berenstain Bears and the Slumber Party is a good teaching aid.  The basic premise is that with privilege, there is responsibility.

One day they will be ready for the responsibility as well as the privilege. Like taking your car for a spin. But there's a whole lot of training that goes into that first.