Making Great Conversationalists: Preface and Chapter One - Part One

I'm sorry for dropping off the blogosphere for a week.  My little guy had a bunch of medical appointments while working on erupting his canines.  His left eye has been deviating inward especially when he was tired so he needed a few extra tests to figure out how much deviation there was.  Long story short: he's getting glasses next week along with patching his right eye for one hour every day.  Let me tell you: young todders adore having a dark, sticky patch stuck over their eye!  It's a great excuse to show his newest skill - temper tantrums.   Thankfully, we still had some really awesome toys (read: noisy electronic toys for toddlers) that I had stashed away after Christmas.  Having some "new" toys to play with while having his patch on makes it easier. 

Little Guy has also learned how to pull himself up on furniture and people.  I'm glad he hit that milestone - but he's having to re-learn how depth perception works while standing.  He's a fast little guy, so he's taken a few spectacular falls already.  I'm fighting the urge to make suits of clothing out of bubble wrap for him - or at least a helmet whenever he's out of his crib.

Magically, he took a three-hour nap today - and I used the time to start transcribing the hillarous crazy-land that is "Making Great Conversationalists" by Steven and Teri Maxwell.   I knew that this book was totally worth the $3.00 or so I paid for it from a second-hand book seller when I read the the first two sentences in the book:

This book was conceived after many discussions our family had in the past ten years about the difficulty of having meaningful conversations with others. We realized this was because of a lack of conversation skills on the part of others. (pg. 7)

Man, those two sentences crack me up every time! 

The level of insularity and hubris blows my mind - and the author is completely unaware of either.   Taking the sentences at face value, eight adults spend ten years trying to figure out why talking with people outside of their family-cult is hard and their final conclusion is that the problem lies with the other people.     Additionally, the family think-tank realizes that although they cannot hold a satisfying conversation with outsiders the family does have the skills to write a book to teach outsiders how to hold good conversations....

Remember, the main issue talking with a member of the Maxwell family is that the family has reached an insane level of sheltering where they do not watch TV, movies, or theater, do not read fiction, do not follow professional sports, do not participate in team sports, and don't do any outdoor recreational activities besides hiking as a family.  They do semi-CrossFit-like home exercises, run, drink coffee, bother random service workers about their salvation status and author random books. 

The rest of the preface of the book is the same rah-rah self-help spiel as every preface written in CP/QF land - so I'll spare you the boredom. 

 The first chapter walks the reader through four "typical" conversations followed by four "improved" conversations that are within reach for families who use this book.  Personally, the "typical" conversations often don't teach the lesson the Maxwell authors want the readers to learn.    Let's look at the first scenario involving a mother, her 5-year-old, and a non-threatening stranger.

Have you ever taken a child to the grocery store and had this experience? A pleasant Grandma looks at your five-year-old and tries to engage her in a conversation.

" Hello, sweetie. Those pigtails are just too cute. What's your name?"

Your child looks down at the floor and says nothing while you feel like melting into the floor yourself. However, you cheerfully attempt to prompt your child to answer.

" Tell the nice lady your name, honey."

No response. "Mommy said to tell her your name!"

Still no response so you continue to press. " You need to tell the lady your name!" By this point the grandma is looking decidedly embarrassed and obviously wishing she had not asked the little girl her name. (pgs. 9-10)

At this point, there are two people who are acting appropriately for their age and the situation - and one person who is acting like a crazed martinet.    Five-year-old Cynthia is acting like a standard kindergartener who is nervous about being expected to talk to a stranger.   Cynthia's mom, on the other hand, is throwing a hissy fit at her kid because the kid isn't performing on demand.   The kindly Grandma is probably feeling horrible that she's caused the crazy lady in front of her to lose it; after all, nice grandmotherly-types have had decades of experience with nervous children who are afraid to talk to strangers.

Personally, I was a shy chatterbox.  If I didn't know a person - or was expected to strike up a conversation unexpectedly - I would be frightened and tongue-tied at first.   My parents handled the situation by waiting a short time to see if I would respond and if I didn't would gently answer the question while chatting with the person.  This would buy me some time to "warm up" to the person - at which point I became a torrent of random chatter.

The weirdest bit of the conversation so far is the fact that Cynthia's mother has turned this into an entire power-play battle for control.   She's acting like Cynthia's health or well-being is threatened because Cynthia doesn't want to talk to a random stranger.   It's not.  Hell, it's not even a sign that Cynthia doesn't understand social cues because she's five!

Finally, your daughter mutters under her breath, " Cynthia."

" What was that, my dear? I am sorry. I couldn't understand you," the grandma replies.

So you try again." Speak up louder, and say your name clearly."

Again Cynthia says her name but still not so the lady can understand. You finally step in and tell her Cynthia's name. (pg. 10)

I don't believe for a second that Grandma would have any response to the kid other than "What a nice name!" even if the kid was completely inaudible.   Seriously - don't give the crazy lady another reason to start pressuring her kindergartener. 

Side note: the name Cynthia is one heck of a mouthful for a kindergartener.  Expecting her to say her name clearly might be beyond her speech capacities.  I say this as a fellow person with a tricky first name; most kids pronounce my first name "Melinda" as "Ma-WIN-da" in kindergarten - including me.

This is a typical interaction for an adult with a five-year-old. It's what happens most of the time. How would you feel, though, if this were the way the conversation went instead?

" Hello, sweetie. Those pigtails are just too cute. What's your name?"

Your child looks at the grandma, smiles, and replies, " Thank you. My mommy likes to sometimes make pigtails for me. My name is Cynthia. What's your name?" (pg. 10)

Well, since you asked how I felt, I would be weirded out.   Most kids don't ask random strangers what their names are.  I have no idea how to respond to the fact that Cynthia is wearing pigtails because her mom likes to put Cynthia's hair in pigtails.  Does Cynthia like pigtails?  Does anyone care if she does? 

This whole conversation reminded me of a CP/QF point-of-pride that might be putting their kids at risk.  CP/QF homeschooling parents often wax poetic about how their kids spend all their time in intergenerational settings instead of being surrounded by their peers.   That sounds all well and good - but it also means that their kids are oblivious to the fact that adults don't usually spend time with random kids.    I do water aerobics for exercise and sometimes workout during busy "Open Swim" times.  Generally, people assort by family groups or peer groups.   There's usually groups of boys and girls within a few years of each other playing some game while the parents chat or exercise.    As an adult woman without a kid with me, my interaction with the kids in the pool is limited to occasionally retrieving a toy that has floated into an area that's too deep for the kid to go safely.    The kid gets my attention and asks if I can get the toy on the edge of the deep end.  I say, "Sure!" and return the toy to the kid who says "Thanks!" and we all go about our merry ways.   If I were to join in the kids' game when no other adults are playing -or strike up a conversation with the kid without involving their parent in some way - I would be behaving in a very strange manner would be at least uncomfortable for most kids.   

Well, I'm going to stop there for now.  The next section of stilted dialogue revolves around a teenager at a doctor's office.