From Ali Adem’s reports, it seems that Efe, one of the other boys in his class, decided to start flinging rather hurtful and personal insults at Ali Adem during recess time at school. The comments were made in front of other classmates, but always out of earshot of teachers who were monitoring the playground areas. Fortunately, Ali Adem knows that he can come and talk to me about anything that is going on in his life, and we had several long discussions about his classmate, who just last year he considered a good friend, and his new behavior. Feeling that this was most probably just another of the many spats among friends growing up together, I tried to get Ali Adem to try his hardest to be nice to Efe and to ignore the rude comments when they arose. Things went along fairly well for a couple days, and then the insults began again. I decided that further action was called for, and I did what I would have done had we been living in the United States. I spoke directly to Efe’s mother about the problem, saying that the comments were very hurtful to Ali Adem. Since the boys are in the same class and also play at the same park after school, I felt that if we both addressed the problem together we could find a solution, and the boys could once again be friends.
Now, I have to say that I am not one of those parents who feel that their child is always an angel who can do no wrong. I have seen my son both start arguments in the park and defend himself verbally when needed. I have also seen him react physically when shoved or struck by another child. He does know, however, that he will get into trouble for this type of behavior, and he has slowly been learning to walk away from situations that have the potential to become physical. Because of this, I wondered if there might be something that had happened between the two boys that had precipitated the problem.
With this in mind, I tried to speak with Efe’s mother when we ran into each other at a local café after school with both boys in tow. As the two boys sat and ate snacks in icy silence, I tried to speak with her about the situation. And, this is where yet another cultural conflict in my life began.
The mother suddenly became enraged that I had the nerve to suggest that her son would ever have done anything wrong. Ali Adem spoke up then, saying that Efe had indeed made the hurtful comments and had done so in front of other classmates. I asked Efe if he did say these things, and rather than answer the question, he stood up and screamed that he has never done anything wrong and no one will believe him. He then ran across the café and sat staring out the window, ignoring requests from his mother and me for him to return and talk about the situation. His reaction seemed to further enrage his mother, who turned to me and said: “See what you have done! My son has never said anything wrong! How dare you say he did anything! You have no right to say anything about him. If there is a problem with anything he says or does, then it’s up to the director of the school to handle it, not you. Let the director talk to them. My son does nothing wrong, so there is no problem.” Taken aback, I tried to explain that I felt this was something that could be worked out if we both spoke to our sons about appropriate behavior. After all, they see each other every day at school and at the park.
Her response surprised me because when I was growing up, if there was a problem between children in the neighborhood or at school, it was generally up to the parents to help their children find a peaceful resolution. Rarely was the school or teacher brought into what should be something handled at home. I was unaware that some Turkish families feel that problems among classmates or friends are something that should be dealt with by the school rather than by the parents.
Realizing that nothing was going to be worked out between us regarding our sons, Ali Adem and I left the café to walk home. As we crossed the street, Efe’s mother leaned out the window of the café and yelled out: “Ali Adem! You are to never speak to Efe again when you are playing at the park! Never! Do you understand?” Ali Adem glanced back at her, shook his head, then looked at me and asked: “Mommy, is there something wrong with her? Why didn’t she listen to what we had to say? You always tell me that I should not yell at other people. But she does. And you tell me that I should listen to what other people say. She didn’t listen to anything we tried to say. She just yelled. Can we go and talk to our teacher about this?” Squeezing his hand, we walked and talked about what had happened in the café all the way home.
I did end up speaking to the teacher about the problem, and she was very upset to hear the comments that had been made. “These kinds of things can break a child’s morale,” she said, shaking her head. She added, “I will take care of this and will speak privately with both boys and let them know that this kind of behavior is unacceptable.” She did not, however, seem surprised at Efe’s mother’s reaction. Nodding, she told me that this, unfortunately, was all too common as parents pass responsibility for correcting their child’s behavior off to the school rather than addressing it at home. My mistake, she said, was in speaking directly to the mother about the problem. An American trait of confronting a problem head-on had instead made the mother feel that she had lost face and that she was being criticized for being a bad parent. It was definitely not my intent to insult her or her child, and I had hoped to find a way to work in unison to bring about a resolution to the problem. This whole incident has made me wonder just what sort of an example she wants to be for her son. Our children learn from watching us, and they will copy the behavior they witness at home. I wonder what both our sons have learned from this experience. Sadly, I suspect that they each learned very different lessons.
Send comments and questions to k.hamilton@todayszaman.com
