Narrative Therapy with Children
In our practice with children we are careful not to assume that a given outcome is already foreseen (After all, anyone knows that worry accomplishes nothing; temper is destructive; and fear only holds you back!). It would not do to commence with questions about how children can subdue problems without first learning from them whether such an undertaking is worth their time and attention. We approach the conversation with the understanding that there are ethical questions children must brood over. Though it is rarely the case that they enter therapy offices prepared at the outset to take up questions of personal conduct informed through ethical reflection, it would be a mistake to conclude that they lack the capacity to do so. The questions asked in narrative therapy create opportunities for children to:
• Achieve a separate vantage point from the problem
• Distinguish between the problem’s aims and their own
• Establish solidarity with others on the basis of shared values
• Take decisive action
The platforms children establish are fortified by desire. Without desire there is no basis for action. If a personal narrative is to achieve momentum it is at the bidding of a causal agent who is after something. Anthropologist, Cheryl Mattingly, explains: “A therapeutic plot occurs in a kind of gap, a space of desire created by the distance between where the protagonist is and where she wants to be. A narrative possibility cannot be within easy reach” (1998, p. 70). Others’ concerns over a young person’s conduct are not enough. Children themselves have to decide that things must be put right. Johnny, aged 7, found the following questions of interest and in keeping with his own wishes:
•Do you agree with your parents that kindness belongs at the very top on the list of your best qualities (Though Johnny’s parents described him in this way it was his right to authenticate it)?
• Why is kindness number 1 (Inviting ethical reflection)?
• If it were up to Fear, how would it go about making use of your imagination (Bringing the problem’s motives to light)?
• What did you most enjoy using your imagination for before Fear came along and took charge (Children are all too familiar with the experience of being taken charge of and might relish the chance to flip power and take charge of the problem)?
• What kind of future would Fear plan for you if it could (mapping the problem across time)?
• How does (or doesn’t) Fear’s plan for your future fit with what you might have in mind (Creating a space for possible protest)?
• Has Fear ever tried to convince you that it knows you better than the people who have known and loved you all your life (Inviting an experience of solidarity)?
Imagine a story in which one of the characters appears to be aimless and upon further exposure is confirmed to lack all initiative. They would not make for a memorable figure or someone capable of fillingout a key role in a plot of any length. To know them in rough outline would be to know them well enough. They would only know themselves in broad strokes and would, by necessity, have to latch onto someone else, someone with clear purpose, someone worth following—an adult perhaps.
A story, in its development, must resonate with what matters most to the young people we are assisting. This gives them prominence in plotlines that are personal. If, instead of rich story development, a child were brusquely presented with an axiom (life isn’t always fair; don’t get caught up in the opinions of others; if you learn good work habits now they will serve you the rest of your life), it would likely be felt as no more than a rote exercise. Advice of this nature is dead on arrival. Vygotsky cautioned long ago that, “direct teaching of concepts is impossible and fruitless. A teacher who tries to do this usually accomplishes nothing but empty verbalism, a parrotlike repetition of words by the child, simulating a knowledge of the corresponding concepts but actually covering up a vacuum” (1986, p. 150). Of much greater value is the kind of engagement that considers children’s particular location in the world, what they have come to know and the experience of knowing that is just out of reach and almost felt. It is in dialogue and reflection that young people come into knowing or come to know what they know. And once they know, there is no stopping them.
