Part of the adoption application process involves writing lots of essays about yourself:  your dreams for your child, your views on parenting, your own life experiences.  It was hard, but in a good way.  So much of the wish for a child is something you can’t put into words, but adopting parents just have to find those words somehow, anyway. 

Here are some bits and pieces I wrote for my application, and I’m happy to share them.

What are your views on discipline?

In my experience, a lot of “discipline” issues are simply a question of children who are too tired, too frustrated, too desperate for attention, or who’ve had too much sugar to be able to hold still.  Children who get enough sleep and eat healthy food tend to be a lot calmer.  But even healthy, well rested children have their own will, and will sometimes push their limits, demand their own way, act out in anger, or be bossy, petulant, and even mean.   In those circumstances, it’s most important for adults to be adults and not respond with their own displays of anger, bossiness, or meanness.

Firm rules, consistent expectations, practice and encouragement – those are certainly the basis.  I’ve also found it helpful to model, not just by demonstrating, but by specifically explaining when I’m practicing my own self-discipline.  When I’m taking care of children I often say, “I’m tired, so I’m not being as patient as I’d like to be.”  “I really like those chocolates, but I know I should eat dinner first.”  “I hate doing the dishes!  I think I’ll put on some music so it will be more fun.”   “I think she’s wrong, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

I believe in recognizing natural consequences: if you are unpleasant to others, they won’t want to play with you, if you lose or break a toy, it’s gone.  It’s also important to recognize and celebrate positive consequences:  when you are kind to someone, it makes both of you feel good.  When you clean up your room, it looks really great.

Of course, sometimes children also need to have consequences imposed to help them learn, both positive and negative.  Time outs for young children help them learn to control themselves, and limits and restriction of privileges, though frustrating to enforce, help older children learn responsibility.  I am a big fan of the sticker-chart for daily accomplishments.  I don’t think “spanking” children is necessarily wrong in absolutely all cases, but I also don’t really feel comfortable with that kind of punishment.  I don’t think it’s ever right for an angry adult to hit a child, and I feel that’s usually how it happens.

To me, a sign of “good discipline” is when a parent can correct a child simply with a look.  My sister in law is an amazing example, and I really respect her way of disciplining my niece and nephew:  she always expects them to be polite and helpful, and she corrects them gently but firmly, and without cajoling or coaxing.  People often tell her she’s lucky to have “such good kids,” and she just smiles and says, “That wasn’t luck.”  It’s hard work.

Please give a brief statement describing your thoughts about religion and its place in your life.

I was raised Unitarian Universalist, which is a very liberal religion, encouraging a free individual search for truth, and embracing many spiritual traditions.  My mother is a retired UU minister, and I taught Sunday school all through college and graduate school.  I stopped attending church when I realized that the religion of my childhood was not answering the questions raised in my adult life.  Spirituality is still an important part of my life, and I miss being part of a religious community and hope to find a church that fits me.

What experiences have you had with children?

At first I couldn’t even imagine how to start answering this enormous question.  I began with a very brief statement, and then I just started writing memories of experiences I’ve had with children….

I started babysitting in middle and high school, taught Sunday school and worked as a nanny in college, ran the church preschool while I was a graduate student, taught middle school for ten years, and take care of my young neighbor who’s lived with me, off and on, for a long time.  I am very close to my niece and nephew, and to the children of beloved friends.

 …..

Matthew, at 4 years old, had no interest whatsoever in the Three Pigs or the Three Bears – he liked stories with monsters!  So I told him stories from Greek Mythology, over and over, until he knew them all by heart.  We’d even done the Trojan War and the Odyssey.  By Christmas I’d run out of Greek myths so I started on Bible stories.  We stopped one Wisconsin-winter day to look inside a church at the beautiful stained-glass windows.

I told him, “These are pictures like the pictures in a book.  Every window goes with a story.”  I looked for a story he would know, and found the Nativity scene.  But when I asked him what the story was, he was puzzled.

“See the angel?”  I said.  “See the shepherds, and the star?  Who is the baby?”

He brightened then, and confidently said, “Achilles!”

……

Emily, 6 years old, came over to my house and immediately hid in the closet.  I asked her what she was doing, and she started to cry.  Her father was coming home from spending a couple of months in jail, and she was afraid to see him.   “What if he comes over here?”  she cried.  I promised her that as long as she was at my house, she was safe, and it wasn’t necessary to hide.  But secretly I was wondering, what if he does come over here?  What if he makes her go home? He had never hit her, but he was always drunk.  She leaned against me on the couch.

“Why do people drink?” she asked, and I can’t remember what I said.

……

Electra, the “new girl,” calmly surveying the room.  I could see she was born to be captain of the ship.  The first time I assigned her to group work, I overheard her say, “Guys, this is great!  Our group is the best.  We have Sam — he’s a great artist, we have Jenny – she’s good at math,  and we have me —  to be leader!  Our group is gonna be great!”  And her group was great.

Kat, a messy, frantic, seething pool of potential, who quickly grew up to be the talented, classy, ambitious young lady we knew she’d be.  Ryan, who continued to wear a pinned-up sheet and a crown of ivy long after we’d finished our unit on Ancient Greece; Courtney, who preferred to work underneath the table (why not?); Alex, who single-handedly caused 90% of my grey hairs.  Yes, all teachers have favorites.

……

Reading to baby Xak:  a character in the story brushes his teeth, and Xak, still not quite verbal, pointed excitedly at the page and then toddled into the bathroom, emerging with toothbrush in hand.  I helped him brush his teeth and then we finished the story.

……

Pretending to be asleep on the couch, early Christmas morning, while my niece and nephew “quietly” sneak downstairs to see their stockings.  Faithfully keeping the dead cicada that my nephew found, until I was positive he’d forgotten about it.  Doing my niece’s Tarot cards to see if the Fates give any hints about whether she’s likely to have her own horse someday.  (Probably not anytime soon, but it’s not hopeless.)  Playing restaurant with real sandwiches (for real lunch).  Building secret hide-outs under the wisteria.

……

Emily at 10 years old, helping me make breakfast so we’ll have time to watch the Muppets before school.  Emily at 11, with that look of unbearable angst which comes with new braces. At 12, with a stylish haircut and way too much eyeliner.  At 13, holding hands with a boy at the rollerskating rink, but holding other-hands with her best girlfriend at the same time.  Letting her lie to me about her homework sometimes, because she needs to make her own mistakes.  Getting the extra hug, which I think she knows I need even more than she does.

Singing harmony on “Amazing Grace” with Emily and Angie in the car.   Angie has a really good voice, and with training I bet she could really take it somewhere.  Emily’s voice is just an ordinary little girl’s voice, but to me she’s the one who sounds like an angel.

……….

“Well, your feet will get wet, but if you can handle having wet feet, then yes you may.”

“You have a right to be angry, but you may not speak to people that way.”

“I’m glad you told me you don’t like it.  But you still have to eat at least half.”