Snips and Snails and Puppy Dogs' Tails

What are little boys made of?

We wrote poetry in my Year 2 class today, inspired by Margaret Wise Brown's The Important Book. (Great book of poems for little ones!) Each poem started with, "The important thing about me is..."

As I watched the children work, it occurred to me that my little boys and little girls are very different. Perhaps more so than little boys and little girls with whom I've worked in New York. Zahra wrote, "The important thing about me is that I like flowers." Ella hunched over her paper, writing, "The important thing about me is I like to read. And I like the wind blowing on my face." Meanwhile, Motaz and Hassan, with their backs to me at a small table drew mustaches on their faces with the felt tipped pens. Yes, mustaches.

Work continued after a brief reprimand and reminder about the purpose of pens in our classroom. Jenna, with a big smile on her face wrote, "The special thing about me is I can do a handstand into a backflip." And Emma, face concentrated and with great care wrote, "The important thing about me is I look like my family." Khalil struggled to finish copying, "The important thing..." Vince sucked on his pen, spraying saliva onto his paper.

And I realized that my boys and my girls are very different.

Omar did manage to get some words down independently! "The important thing about me is I like cars." And with a great deal of coaching, Vince managed, "The important thing about me is that I eat chicken." Other boys eventually followed suit with, "I like to eat." "I drink milk." "I like coffee ice cream." Vince continued, "I eat chicken and rice. I eat rice and beans. I eat beans and soup and potatoes."

And I realized that my boys, for the most part, could say nothing about themselves other than what they liked to eat and drink. But the girls described their passions and interests easily. The girls portrayed themselves as competent in all areas of their lives at home and at school, while the boys showed themselved to be capable of stuffing their faces.

At the end of our work time, the boys fooled around while the girls busied themselves tidying up.

And I realized that this is the problem with Sudan, and perhaps with the world:

Little girls who are expected to help with housework, clean, and care for younger siblings learn not only these skills. They learn that they are capable and that they share responsibility for doing work. Yes, even little girls with nannies and servants learn that they must help at home. Little boys here are rarely expected to do anything. They don't carry their own backpacks. They don't remember their own homework. They don't go to bed unless they feel like it. They refuse to wear socks and then, when they get blisters, they blame the nanny. (True story!) And from this they learn that they are incapable of doing anything independently.

And then they grow up in this society where men run things. Yet many of these men have never even learned to make their bed or wash a dish. The girls grow into strong, capable women, frequently relegated to jobs far beneath their abilities, dismissed by insecure men who feel entitled to boss people around.

And I'll admit, my son has these tendencies, and I'm trying to figure out where I'm going wrong. "Mommy!" he yells from the kitchen floor, "Did you have to leave my lunch box open! Now everything fell out." Or, "Mommy! I said I wanted a peanut butter sandwich and now it's too late because it's bed time." I try to keep my temper in check and refrain from using sarcasm as I remind him that he is perfectly capable of making his own (damn) peanut butter sandwich and had he not been watching cartoons, he might have remembered that he wanted one. We've been having daily chats about personal responsibility while I tremble with fear inside... Have I ruined him already?

Admittedly, this is a gross oversimplification that draws on many presumptions that are, perhaps, baseless. But it sure is interesting to think about, isn't it?