Communication Through Association

This is a real conversation that happened in class  (I have changed only the names).
We are still learning about ancient civilizations in social studies. I read them a story about Gilgamesh. We were reviewing the story.  Four of the students were sitting with me at the group table, and one student was refusing to participate in the group, so opted to stay at her seat.

Me: Okay, I would like us to review the story we read about Gilgamesh. Remember him?
All: (various forms of acknowledgement)
Me: Good. Well, remember in the beginning, the author told us something about Gilgamesh. A very important piece of information. The author wrote that Gilgamesh was  special.  Why was he special? What made him special?
Todd: I know!
Me: Okay.
Todd: He was a king.
Me: Yes, that's true, but there is something else that made him very unique.
Owen: He was mean.
Me: Yes, in the beginning, he was, but try to remember. Think about what made him so different from everyone else.
Todd: OH, I remember.
Me: Yes?
Todd: He was half and half. 
Me: You're close!  Half and half what?
Todd: My dad drinks half and half in his coffee.
Me: Okay, that's good, but what was Gilgamesh?
Jesse: (worried look on his face)  My dad's not going to get me anything for my birthday!
Me: Jess, you're going to be just fine on your birthday. You know how much your dad loves you.
Jesse: Yeah, but I think that box I found is empty and I don't think he's getting me anything for my birthday.
Me: Jess, I don't think you have anything to worry about. I think you know how much you and your dad love doing things together. I'm positive he's getting you something you'll love for your birthday (his dad called me to let me know he is getting him the gift he's been asking for).
Jesse:  Really?  Do you think so?
Me: Yes, I really think so. It's going to be okay.
Jesse: (relief settling over his face)
Me: Okay, back to Gilgamesh.  He was half what and half what?
Owen: I know. He was half man and half god.
Me: YES!  Good job!
Amy: I don't believe in gods. I just believe in cats, like the Warrior books.
(All of the boys start grumbling at this)
Jesse: What? She can't believe in cats! What's that mean? Cats? I hate cats!
Me: Jess, Amy can believe in what she chooses, and you can believe in what you choose.
Jesse: Well, I believe in God.
Me: Okay, good.
Amy: I believe in the Warrior clan gods.
Me: Okay, you can. But we were talking about Gilgamesh. 
Amy: Yes, but I don't really want to talk about that right now.
Me: Okay, then you're going to have to keep your comments to yourself, and just listen.
Jesse: Why does she say stuff like that?
Me: Because she's Amy, and thinks like Amy.  You think like Jesse. (big smile)
Owen: Ms. R....
Me: Yes?
Owen: I have a question.
Me: Okay.
Owen: How do you wake up Lady Gaga?
Me: (inward sigh) I don't know Owen, how?
Owen: Poker face (big smile).

I just laughed and moved on to the next question. 

That's how things go in class a lot of the time.  The kids hear what is being said, but it's as if certain thoughts are lined up, waiting to be called and any word that is close to what is on their minds, ushers that thought forward, and nothing can progress until that thought is taken care of.  Those thoughts are usually concerns or worries. Sometimes, they are just arbitrary thoughts, like lone bees that fly into the room when the windows are open.  They buzz around for awhile and then back out the open window.  Most of the time, however, the pressing worries and concerns take precedent, and need the most attention before their fragile brains can cope with anymore new information. This type of 'discussion' has helped me retrain my thinking. I've had to take those mental blinders off so that I can see all of the possibilities that might arise from one simple question.  Especially those possibilites that have nothing to do with the question but have everything to do with if and how that child is going to learn.

I carry that technique into my life outside of school.  I've notice in converasations with my daughter, especially when she is sad or influenced by alcohol, our conversations go like that.  I will ask her a question, and her answer diverts down a path that has been overgrown with such distorted thinking that the origional thought (event or memory) is nearly indistinguishable.  Cleaning off those memories or thoughts, I believe, is vital to getting to the root of her feelings. Finding the root to a feeling that is causing her sadness is helpful to understanding why she feels the way she does, and hopefully, help her to realize that thoughts are just that, thoughts; their power comes from the type of focus you put on them.  Once she can face those thoughts, and realize that she is in control, I think she will be able to  either place them away for safe keeping or discard them as 'lesson learned.'