So today life provided me with a particularly enlightening experience, as David and I were given the opportunity to observe our wildest beast in her (un)natural habitat (preschool). The emotional preparation leading up to this fieldwork study was filled with equal parts excitement and anticipation to view our tiny little social experiment among her pint-sized peers (Would we burst with pride at the cognitive genius of our little Chimp? Giggle at the antics of our squirrelly Spider Monkey? Would she prove to be the Silver-Back of circle time?), and absolute fear of the potential for a public viewing of our little native’s less culturally appropriate practices (Please Mia. Just don’t be the Bonobo). As the middle child, the victim of a cruel sandwiching between two needy siblings, Mia has often been our independent (a.k.a.neglected) wild card. Her position in our family story, allowing her both the freedom to spread her wings and resulting in our own incapacity to catch her when she flies too far (or sometimes to even notice she’d flown the coop). While her indigenous behavior is somewhat of an easy bet (think Energizer Bunny with a Napoleon Complex), she also happens to be the world’s most delicious, melt-in-your-arms, sweet buns known to mankind.  In those first few days of the taming, months ago, as we initially began to immerse ourselves into the world of preschool, I can distinctly recall walking cautiously to claim my little beast, instinctively avoiding eye contact with the teacher, certain our little monkey had slung some sort of feces to assert her status. Only to experience shock when told, “Mia is such a sweetheart. So quiet. So obedient.” I believe I actually said out loud, “WHAT? Are you sure we are talking about the same kid?”  Maybe not the best first impression on the staff, but an unavoidable reaction given the juxtaposition between our reality and theirs.  Surprisingly, according to a variety of her handlers it seems she has found a way to circumstantially evolve methods of self-control, revealing only her scrumptious self, as soon as we step aside.Thus, we approached our fieldwork this morning with a history of conflicting notes, uncertain of which little monkey we would have the pleasure of studying. We were given a simple assignment. Be invisible and take notes. Shocking to some, I am a rule follower by nature, and so I did just that. I wrote down every word our tiny subject spoke, and did my best to hold back my instinctual urge to taser our wild one, when I sensed any resistance to her zookeeper. And while I was pleasantly surprised at the overall taming of the monkey, there were a few notes worthy of highlighting (or maybe blacking out with a dark Sharpie). So, as our session settled to an end, and I took the opportunity to actually read the details in the directives, I panicked at this piece: “Record all POSITIVE behavior/language.” Oh no! I really needed a Sharpie. So what does any good scientist do with data that contradicts their hypothesis? Reevaluate (a.k.a. falsify) the findings. Below is an excerpt of my actual (modified) field notes:

Observation: While playing play dough when asked what she’d created, Mia responded, “It’s a cookie. Actually, it’s poop. No, a poop cookie. Did you know all animals go poop? I made a poop cookie.” Frame it: Mia demonstrated creativity and an ability to produce novel ideas, as well as combining unrelated, familiar objects in an imaginative way. Her emerging interest in animal sciences is evident. Also, she exhibited resourcefulness of non-traditional, nutritional resources and an application of literary comprehension, as I am assuming this relates to our previous studies of the dung beetle.

Observation: While waiting to wash her hands at the sink, Mia asserted, “That’s long enough. It’s my turn now.” And as the much larger boy obeyed her commands she rewarded him with, “Are you my friend? You can be my friend.” He agreed. And as the next, monstrously sized boy lined up behind her she asserted, “You need to wait. It is my turn.” And then, “You’re my friend too?” He also agreed. Frame it: Mia’s social-emotional growth is exhibited by her ability to verbalize her needs, facilitate peer-instruction, and encourage friendships. Her self-confidence is clearly evident.

Observation: When asked at circle time what thing they like to share with friends, Mia responded, “Nothing.” When further prompted for a more culturally appropriate response, she reluctantly agreed to her bunny, but prefaced her agreement with, “I share my bunny, but I want to share nothing.” Frame it: Mia’s honesty demonstrates a confidence that has protected her from assimilation, yet a willingness to be flexible and collaborate with other ideals when prompted.

Observation: “Don’t put any crack in there.” Frame it: This one was actually referring to egg shells, an unfortunate misuse of vocabulary not really in need of true framing, but still not the greatest notes to share with her teacher. So, maybe…Mia helped encourage fine motor skills in her peers?

Please note that our little monkey received glowing reviews from the zookeeper. She is apparently far better trained in this setting then in her indigenous environment, or at least appears so when compared to equally wild beasts. However, I took from the experience several themes to help me avoid the dangers of ethnocentrism and cultural relativism so often prevalent in Mommyland. Among these was a quote I uncovered which was first articulated in 1887: “…civilization is not something absolute, but is relative, and our ideas and conceptions are true only so far as our civilization goes.” In other words, when your kid makes a poop cookie, just frame it, and you have a masterpiece.