A Lesson in Empathy and Communication

I recently came across a video where a psychologist discussed the nature of strong-willed children and how best to “handle” them. The term “strong-willed” often conjures up images of stubbornness and defiance, traits that many parents and educators view as challenging or even troublesome. Yet, the psychologist offered a refreshing perspective: strong-willed children should not be approached with confrontation or dismissed simply because their views differ from ours. Instead, they should be engaged in reasonable conversations, no matter how long these discussions might take.

The underlying message was clear: strong-willed children are often intelligent thinkers who deserve to have their thoughts and feelings respected.

This approach resonated with me deeply, especially considering my own experiences growing up. I often found myself at odds with the people around me, feeling misunderstood and isolated because my views didn’t align with theirs.

Reflecting on those experiences, I now see the importance of the psychologist’s advice: when we take the time to engage in meaningful conversations with strong-willed individuals, we not only validate their intelligence but also nurture their ability to think critically and independently.

The psychologist emphasized that when dealing with strong-willed children, it’s crucial not to confront them aggressively or dismiss their ideas outright. Doing so can lead to a power struggle that often leaves both parties frustrated and disconnected. Instead, she suggested having reasonable conversations—no matter how long they take—to explain the reasoning behind your views. This approach isn’t about winning an argument but about fostering understanding and mutual respect.

This method of engagement is supported by research in child psychology. A study published in the Journal of Experimental Child Psychology found that children who are allowed to express their opinions and engage in discussions with adults tend to develop stronger problem-solving skills and a greater sense of autonomy. These children are also more likely to internalize the values and lessons being taught, as opposed to simply following rules out of fear of punishment or desire for approval .

Growing up, I often felt like an outsider. My views were different from those of the people around me, and I knew it. While my cousins and classmates had the stability of complete families and attentive parents, my upbringing was different.

I lived with my grandmother, and I was told that my father was “nalumos sa sabaw sa tinola” a.k.a drowned in soup [something]. It was some kind of a “joke” (well probably a mockery if I am being honest… of someone or for someone whose father is absent). I did not and still do not take it personally though. Because to be very blunt (okay, you can call me abnormal or unusual at this point), it didn’t matter and still doesn’t matter to me — I was content and happy that I had my grandma. I was and still am very lucky I was raised by the kindest person I’ve ever known on Earth. I wouldn’t trade it for any other way.

For some reason though, some of my aunts, uncles, and even some of my adult cousins would frequently remind me of my circumstances, subtly implying that I was lacking in some fundamental way. This sense of being different was compounded by an experience I had in Grade 3 or Grade 4, an experience that still lingers in my memory.

During a religion class (Catholicism), I asked a question that had been puzzling me:

“What does it mean that God is one but has three personas? Does that mean He is actually three but acts as one?”

My question was genuine, born out of a child’s curiosity and desire to understand a concept that didn’t quite make sense to me.

Instead of receiving an answer, I was made to stand in class while my teacher diverted the topic entirely. She asked me, in front of all my classmates, “Do you know that you are an illegitimate child? Your mom and dad had you while out of wedlock. You do not have a father now. You were born out of sin. You had to be baptized to cleanse you of your sin.”

At the time, I didn’t fully understand what “illegitimate” meant. My mind focused instead on the latter part of her statement: that I had been baptized because I was a sinner when I was born. Confused and still standing, I asked, “I was baptized because I was a sinner when I was born? I am still a sinner now, I think. Aren’t all people who are Catholic needed to be baptized? Because they are also sinners? Just like you, just like me?”

(Side comment: Oh dear… I had a knack for making people irate… or should I say uneasy? I can’t really put it into one adjective 😅)

The ire in her stare was unmistakable, but I wasn’t trying to be defiant—I was genuinely seeking an answer. The experience left me with more questions than answers, and for years afterward, I kept wondering: why did she tell me I was an illegitimate child? What was the point of making that distinction in front of the class? Was it to educate me and my classmates that I was somehow different, or was it meant to label me as a particular kind of sinner—one that was “special” in some unfortunate way?

Looking back, I realize that the religious teacher’s response was not an example of the reasonable conversation that the psychologist in the video advocated. It was a missed opportunity to engage with a curious child in a meaningful way. Instead of fostering understanding, it created confusion and a sense of alienation.

In contrast, the psychologist’s approach encourages us to engage with strong-willed children—or anyone who challenges our views—with empathy and understanding. By taking the time to listen and explain our reasoning, we not only validate their intelligence but also help them develop critical thinking skills and a deeper understanding of the world around them.

This approach is not just limited to children. As adults, we often encounter people whose views differ from our own. Whether in personal relationships, workplaces, or broader social contexts, the ability to engage in reasonable conversations—to listen, understand, and explain without confrontation—is a powerful tool for fostering connection and mutual respect.

I do not have kids, yet. But if ever I will be blessed with one or two, I have made the decision to take the lessons into heart and mind.

I do not bear ill will nor hurt for my previous religion teacher. I pray she will have eternal repose and is happy now wherever she may be.

I do wonder on the circumstances of her upbringing and how or why she reacted that way.

To end this article, allow me to say:

The psychologist’s advice is a valuable reminder that strong-willed individuals, especially children, are not obstacles to be managed but minds to be engaged. It may need heaps [probably tons] of patience… but… still…

By approaching them with empathy, patience, and a willingness to engage in reasonable conversations, we can nurture their intelligence and help them grow into thoughtful, independent individuals.

For those of us who were once strong-willed children ourselves, the memory of feeling misunderstood can linger for years. But by embracing the approach of empathy and understanding, we can break the cycle and create a more compassionate and thoughtful world—one conversation at a time.

“The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.” — Peggy O’Mara