Opinion

Fight cub

When my son was 4, he brought home a photocopied “peace” handout from preschool. At the base of the page were lyrics (sung to the tune of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”): “Let’s all live in peace, let’s play harmony . . .”

I love singing. Song, chant and stories all deserve a central spot in children’s lives. But peace propaganda irks me. It wastes children’s time and distracts from the real, messy and necessary work of conflict mediation. Children don’t learn about peace by singing about it. That’s just something cute that adults like. Children learn about peace by having problems.

It helps to remember that peace isn’t the absence of conflict. Peace is the respectful resolution of conflict. It’s a complex skill — one many adults have yet to master — but it’s perhaps the most important work of early childhood. Whether it’s who has the bunny cup, or which nation controls oil production, conflict is always with us. Our chief job in raising humans is to give them tools to face and unravel conflict. And that should begin as young as age 2.

Children need to encounter conflict firsthand and learn what’s appropriate. What do I do when conflict comes up? What do I say? How do I set a limit on another person’s behavior when I don’t like it?

This all takes practice. It can’t be learned by singing songs or saying “we’re all friends here.” The more a child experiences conflict, understands effective options and finds the courage to assert herself, the better equipped she’ll be to handle human relationships. We can guide children through conflict mediation steps, but there’s no substitute for practice.

Unfortunately, the rising generation of kids gets scant time for practice. Free, unstructured play is the very best way for kids to “bump” into each other and encounter problems. Yet playtime is evaporating. At a time when 2-year-olds should be protecting their toys, and 5-year-olds should be negotiating rules for their imaginary games, we usher them into structured classes, like academic preschool programs or ballet class for tots.

My childhood preschool was vastly different. Not only did teachers view conflict between kids as a welcome opportunity, but they believed in wrestling mats and boxing gloves. Forty years later, while other preschools are assigning homework to 3-year-olds, this school still drags out the wrestling mats. Granted, the boxing gloves don’t come out when kids are mad at each other. Rough games are reserved for friends in a playful mood. But adults there recognize something most modern parents and teachers seem to have forgotten: Roughhousing is not just a legitimate form of play, it’s highly beneficial.

When I told a fellow mother that I was writing a parenting book that included boxing, her mouth fell open. “Boxing? You’ve got to be kidding me. I spend my time trying to keep their hands off each other!”

That’s part of the problem. It might be heresy to point this out, but most young kids are surrounded by women — moms, teachers, grandmas, sitters — and most of these women find rough energy unsettling. Young children are physical creatures. They like body contact and have a deep need for touch. Boys especially bond with friends through play fights.

Experts are now realizing that good, old puppy play teaches a mix of skills like impulse control and emotional awareness, and that social, rough play actually develops the frontal lobe — a critical area for academic success later on. Dr. Anthony DeBenedet, a roughhousing guru, calls it the “holy grail” of children’s play.

Roughhousing offers excellent opportunities for setting limits. When Jordan bops Jamie on the nose or pulls his shirt, that’s the moment kids learn about peace and conflict. “Hey! Stop! I don’t like it when you pull my shirt.” Those are the first words of peace. Speaking up. Confronting someone directly. Listening. And setting mutual boundaries. We can help children speak up and gain practice doing it, but we mustn’t do it for them.

As parents, we’re in a collectively agitated state about safety and violence. It seems the more we worry, the less time we spend actually equipping our children to cope. Which brings up another much maligned form of children’s conflict: weapon play. Even now, in the wake of a horrific shooting, children’s weapon play is OK. What’s more, it’s surprisingly full of hidden skills for peace.

Child psychologists like Michael Thompson consider war play important work in developing morality. Pretend skirmishes between good guys and bad guys help children sort out ideas of good and evil, right and wrong, protector and protected. War play is often about saving someone. Derring-do games let kids practice being a hero. And whether it’s playing house or playing “Star Wars,” the ability to role-play (which requires taking another person’s perspective), is part of emerging empathy.

High-action war play is typically social and collaborative. It’s often so much fun, kids pull out extraordinary negotiation skills to keep the game going. If kids are listening and negotiating with each other, having fun and showing concern when someone gets hurt, it’s healthy play.

Play ideas should go uncensored as long as they’re not hurting people or property.

Pretend conflicts in play, real conflicts in life, we’re scared of them both. But kids need these experiences desperately. We don’t know what life will be like when our children reach adulthood, but it’s sure to be a competitive one. More than ever we need to raise kids who are creative problem-solvers, kids who can get along with others, handle their own anger and manage conflicts directly. To do this kids need much more than peace songs. They need practice.

Heather Shumaker is the author of “It’s OK Not to Share . . . and Other Renegade Rules for Raising Competent and Compassionate Kids” (Tarcher), out now.