Well, during a brief few moments when I was not actively trying to drive myself crazy, I thought about why I am not even as smart as a one-year-old child. Now, probably those of you who have known me for more than six and a half minutes are shaking your heads and thinking, “What? This just now occurred to her?”
OK, hold the snarky for a moment, and let me explain how I arrived at this discovery that has taken me almost 74 years to grasp.
Imagine a newborn child. The child arrives after being literally kept in the dark for nine months in a confined space, into a room that is usually cold because many doctors prefer it that way, with lights blinding everyone, is smacked on the butt to experience its very first, tangible, physical contact in “the real world” —which is so startling it warrants a cry! What? Then, after actually surviving the traumatic entry into said world, think about what a child learns in that first year.
Yes, in 12 very short months, a child learns to recognize and make sounds. Babbling isn’t just random noises. It results from a new brain trying to and succeeding much of the time, to make connections between the sounds of voices and words. The cognitive ability to learn the entire art of communication begins in just a few weeks’ time! Think about it. I am assuming most of those reading this are well over one year old, but let me ask you, how well do you communicate? Do you ever say something, like to a friend or spouse or kid, and think you are speaking plainly and succinctly, just to have the other person scrunch up his face, strain his neck into strange angles, make tsking and tongue clicking sounds in the mouth, and stare wide-eyed and Kramer-ish (think Seinfield here) at you like you just spoke Chinese with an Italian accent?
In my 74 years, I know that I have been very, very clear on any number of occasions when the person or persons within the sound of my voice failed to get even a modicum of what I was saying. My husband, Rex, was a prime example. Why, there were times — many, many times — I had entire conversations with a man who did not hear a dang word I said. I would pause for a breath, mid-thought, and ask “so what do you think about that?” And that deer-in-the-headlight look that we all recognize would contort his handsome face, and he would squint and say, “What? Did you say something?” or equally as painful, “Were you talking to me?” I think of the amazing shards of wisdom I directed right at him in 48 years that he never derived any benefit from … not even a smidgen! When it came to communication, one of us clearly had a problem. May he rest in peace.
Let’s move on before I say something that might be deemed inappropriate. What else does a child learn in that first year? How about how to traverse his terrain — first by scooting, then the idea of “the roll over” happens, which is followed closely by the crawl, which in just a couple of months becomes passé, and the kid pulls himself up, and before we can even blink — there are actual steps! Wow, is all I can say. A child goes from 0 to 60 with the speed of a gazelle. Granted, the first few steps might be a bit awkward, but the kid gets it and is soon running hell bent for Alaska all over the house.
In my 74 years, I have known how to walk. I know I have. I remember it almost definitely. But I read a statement just the other day where a person said that he used to run marathons and now tips over putting on his underwear! Not funny. Not the least bit funny. Not that I have ever experienced that myself, but I know for a fact that a few very close acquaintances of mine most surely have. I can sometimes trip on curbs that aren’t actually there. And when did wearing shoes with more than a one-inch heel become a dangerous undertaking? Walking no longer only involves my placing one foot in front of the other.
Kids in that first year learn much more than talking and walking. They grasp the concept of who exactly is in charge of getting the food, changing the diaper, rocking and comforting, keeping it quiet when a bit of sleep is needed, sometimes even during the nighttime hours. Kids learn to use everyday utensils like a spoon, hairbrush, and often start getting an inkling of that whole bathroom thing.
In my 74 years, I sometimes really wish someone else was bringing the food. Being in a diaper is not completely out of the question in my future. I rock now, but most often it is to slow my own mind, and I find that even in the quiet, sleep is not an easy find. I will not even address the times when I cannot seem to manage a spoon. I will glance down during a meal and see the entire menu on the front of my shirt or languishing in my lap. Nor will I go into that toilet subject. It is not as simple and exact as it once was. ’Nuff said.
Now, let’s think about emotions. Babies learn quickly to “read the room.” In a matter of mere weeks, the kid knows what a puckered lip will get, what a tear or two can bring, and that a full throat wail actually stops everyone in their tracks! The smile, oh yes, that baby smile … even if it is gas, as some who are not remotely related to the kid say, that smile can actually bring grown men and women to their knees while clapping and shouting, “Did you see that? She smiled!” Have you ever considered how huge those adult faces must appear when hovering, smiling largely, making exaggerated sounds, etc., etc., about 6 inches above a baby’s face? No wonder their eyes widen, their arms spasmodically flail, and their feet and legs enter a furious kick mode.
In my 74 years, I have learned that sometimes I can do all of those things mentioned in the previous paragraph, and absolutely no one, not one other person gives a good hot dang. What is a person to do?
Well, those few brief moments I mentioned in the first sentence have passed, and I am back to my usual state. Not that I know even a little bit of what that means.
Here’s the thing: A baby’s first year is pretty darn phenomenal no matter what scoring chart is used or devised. Their rate of grasping language, mobility, concepts, well, all of it, is hard to even believe. Equally difficult for me is just how quickly and with some surprising efficiency all of those things I learned in my first year are becoming more “allusive” now. Next time you get the opportunity to be in the presence of a one-year-old, observe in amazement and awe at what is occurring within that little mind and body. All of the potential of the world is right there. In my 74 years …
OK, return to the snarky, if you must.
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Editor’s Note: This is one of a series of articles written by a group of retired and current teachers — Ken Ballinger,, Billy Kreigh, Marianne Darr-Norman, and Anna Spalding. Their intent is to spur discussions at the dinner table and elsewhere. You may also voice your thoughts and reactions via The News-Banner’s letters to editor.
