What If I Don’t Understand My Child?

I still remember sitting across from my daughter’s preschool teacher with her dad.

She told us our daughter was different.

She learned very quickly, she explained, and because of that, there might be challenges ahead.

We listened. We believed her.

But I don’t think either of us really understood what she was trying to tell us.

Her dad had been offered the opportunity to skip a grade when he was a child. His parents had decided against it. So the idea that we might have a child who learned quickly didn’t seem particularly surprising.

We just didn’t yet understand that our daughter wouldn’t necessarily experience childhood the way we expected her to.

A few years later, that became much clearer.

She came home from first grade and told us she hadn’t learned anything.

She thought she was in the wrong place.

Within a couple of weeks, she utterly refused to get on the school bus.

And I did not want to homeschool.

That wasn’t the plan I had for her.

It certainly wasn’t the plan I had for me.

But eventually I had to stop asking what I thought her childhood was supposed to look like and start paying closer attention to the child standing in front of me.

We Imagine Our Children Before We Know Them

I think most parents do this in one way or another.

We have ideas about what raising our children will be like long before we know who they are.

We imagine school and friendships.

Sports or music or activities.

Family traditions.

Maybe college.

Maybe marriage.

Maybe grandchildren someday.

We picture ourselves doing things with them that mattered to us when we were growing up.

Then this entirely separate human being arrives.

And they may not be anything like the person we imagined.

They may learn differently.

They may communicate differently.

They may have interests you don’t understand.

They may feel things much more deeply—or express very little of what they feel.

They may struggle with something you found easy.

They may find easy something you can barely comprehend.

They may choose a life you never pictured for them.

That doesn’t mean anything has gone wrong.

It means you're getting to know your child.

What If I Really Do Understand?

When my daughter told me she wasn't learning anything at school, I actually understood more than I realized at the time.

I had been that child too.

I knew what it was like to already know what was being taught. I knew what it was like to be bored at school.

But I had also learned something else very early.

People didn't particularly care that I was bored.

It wasn't something the adults around me wanted to hear about. School was school. You went. You did what was expected. You adjusted.

So when my daughter came home from first grade and said she hadn't learned anything and thought she was in the wrong place, there was a part of me that understood exactly what she meant.

What I hadn't yet understood was that I didn't have to ask her to adapt to it simply because I had.

When she eventually refused to get on the school bus, her experience was demanding that we pay attention.

I still didn't want to homeschool.

But I was beginning to understand that what I wanted her education to look like couldn't be the only thing that mattered.

She was telling us what it felt like to be her.

I needed to listen.

Believing Them Is Different From Agreeing With Them

One of the most helpful things we can offer another person is the belief that what they are experiencing is real for them.

That matters with our children, too.

Your child may be devastated by something that doesn't seem devastating to you.

They may be afraid of something that doesn't frighten you.

They may care deeply about something you don't understand at all.

Our first instinct can be to reassure them.

It's really not that bad.

You'll be fine.

Everybody has to do things they don't like.

We may genuinely be trying to help.

But there's another possibility.

We can get curious.

We can listen long enough to discover what the experience feels like from where they're standing.

Listening to and validating a child's feelings doesn't require a parent to agree with every conclusion or behavior. It communicates that their experience matters enough for us to try to understand it.

Loving Them Doesn't Mean Making Them More Like Us

I think this can be one of the harder parts of parenting.

We know ourselves.

We know what helped us.

We know what we wish our parents had done differently.

So it makes sense that we use ourselves as a starting point when we raise our children.

But we're only a starting point.

At some point, our children begin showing us who they are.

Then we have a choice.

We can keep trying to fit them into the picture we already have.

Or we can become curious about the picture they're creating.

That doesn't mean children don't need boundaries.

It doesn't mean parents stop parenting.

It doesn't mean every request becomes a yes.

It simply means understanding comes before deciding what our child needs from us.

The Child in Front of You

Homeschooling became part of our family's answer for a time.

It may not be anyone else's answer.

That's not really the point.

The important part for me was recognizing that I couldn't make a decision based entirely on what I had expected parenting to look like.

I had to respond to her.

That's much harder than it sounds.

Because loving our children doesn't automatically mean we understand them.

We can love them fiercely and still think:

Why is this so hard for you?

Why does this matter so much?

Why don't you want what I wanted at your age?

Why can't I figure out how to help you?

Not knowing doesn't make us uncaring parents.

It gives us somewhere to begin listening.

Their Story Doesn't Have to Be Ours 

Our own childhoods inevitably come with us when we become parents.

They can make us more empathetic because we remember what something felt like.

But they can also make us accept things simply because we learned to live with them.

I went through it.

I turned out fine.

That's just how it is.

I could have looked at my daughter's experience that way.

I had been bored in school. No one changed things for me. I learned to live with it.

But my ability to endure something didn't mean my daughter needed to endure it too.

That became an important distinction for me.

Loving the child I had meant listening not only for the places where her experience was different from mine, but also for the places where it was familiar—and being willing to respond differently than the adults in my life had.

Loving the Child You Have

Looking back at that preschool conference now, I understand our daughter's teacher differently.

She wasn't simply telling us that our daughter would learn quickly.

She was giving us the first glimpse of a child we were only beginning to know.

There would be things about her I understood easily.

There would be things I didn't.

There would be moments when what she needed fit naturally with what I wanted to give her.

And there would be moments when loving her meant letting go of what I thought things were supposed to look like.

That's parenting.

Our children aren't unfinished versions of us.

They're people we're privileged to know as they become more fully themselves.

And maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give them is the freedom to tell us who that person is.

A Place to Talk It Through

It can be difficult when you love your child deeply and still don't understand what they're experiencing, what they need, or the choices they're making.

You may be carrying worry, frustration, fear, disappointment, confusion—or several of those at once.

You don't have to pretend those feelings aren't there.

And you don't have to sort through all of them with your child.

At HOLD, you can have a calm, confidential place to say what you're thinking, sort through your own feelings, and make room to listen to the child in front of you.

Whatever you're learning about your child, I hope you give both of you the grace to keep getting to know each other.

Book a Listening Appointment or Join the HOLD Community on Patreon 

Written by Deb Porter, founder of HOLD | Hearing Out Life Drama—a space for calm, confidential listening and real emotional clarity.