The Childhood Lesson I Didn’t Know I Was Learning

Some childhood memories stay with you for years. I have one that takes me back to the railway quarters where my cousins Annette and Penny and I spent quite a lot of time together.

Whenever guests were coming, we knew what was expected of us.

First, have a bath and make sure you looked clean and tidy.

Then tidy up the hallroom. We had to make sure everything looked good before the guests arrived. And we did it with pride. It was our home, and we wanted it to look nice.

There was no maid to do everything for us.

I sometimes think about that today when I see children who don't lift a finger at home because there is someone to do it for them. Perhaps they are missing out on the simple satisfaction of helping and taking responsibility.

Then the guests arrived.

We had to greet them properly.

“Hello, Auntie.”

“Hello, Uncle.”

And if we said it too softly, we would hear:

“Auntie, Uncle, haven't heard you!”

So we said it again, louder this time. There would be smiles and laughter.

And then, after the guests had settled down with their tea, coffee and snacks, came the part I dreaded.

We had to perform.

Annette and Penny would sing or dance. I would often have to recite a poem. One I remember particularly well was Casabianca. I was under ten, quite shy, and I hated standing there with everyone looking at me.

But I did it.

I also remember Annette and Penny singing Sisters:

“Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters…”

Which was rather amusing because, after singing about being such devoted sisters, they would sometimes go inside and have a good fight!

Looking back, though, I realise those little performances did something for me.

They gave me confidence.

I was learning to stand up, speak clearly and not be afraid of people listening to me.

Years later, I found myself speaking to large audiences and singing in a band. I am sure those early experiences helped.

And perhaps there is a small leadership lesson here too.

When we have a young recruit or someone new to the team, we should give them opportunities to show what they can do. Encourage them to speak, present an idea, lead a small task or simply share what they are good at.

They may be nervous at first, but a little encouragement can build confidence. Sometimes people don't need to be pushed into the spotlight; they just need someone to invite them into it.

So here is my unsolicited advice to young parents.

When guests come over, bring the children out.

Let them say hello. Let them talk. Let them help around the house. Let them tell a story, recite a poem or sing a song.

They may not like it.

I certainly didn't.

But you may be helping them develop confidence without even realising it.

Today, I thank my mother and my aunt for making us do those things.

At the time, I thought they were embarrassing us.

Now I realize they were helping us.

And when I think back to those railway-quarter days, I remember the laughter, the tea, Annette and Penny singing about being “devoted sisters” and then going off to fight, and me standing there reciting Casabianca.

I wouldn't change any of it.

Funny how the things we dislike as children can become some of the things we are most grateful for as adults.

Some childhood memories stay with you for years. I have one that takes me back to the railway quarters where my cousins Annette and Penny and I spent quite a lot of time together.

Whenever guests were coming, we knew what was expected of us.

First, have a bath and make sure you looked clean and tidy.

Then tidy up the hallroom. We had to make sure everything looked good before the guests arrived. And we did it with pride. It was our home, and we wanted it to look nice.

There was no maid to do everything for us.

I sometimes think about that today when I see children who don't lift a finger at home because there is someone to do it for them. Perhaps they are missing out on the simple satisfaction of helping and taking responsibility.

Then the guests arrived.

We had to greet them properly.

“Hello, Auntie.”

“Hello, Uncle.”

And if we said it too softly, we would hear:

“Auntie, Uncle, haven't heard you!”

So we said it again, louder this time. There would be smiles and laughter.

And then, after the guests had settled down with their tea, coffee and snacks, came the part I dreaded.

We had to perform.

Annette and Penny would sing or dance. I would often have to recite a poem. One I remember particularly well was Casabianca. I was under ten, quite shy, and I hated standing there with everyone looking at me.

But I did it.

I also remember Annette and Penny singing Sisters:

“Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters…”

Which was rather amusing because, after singing about being such devoted sisters, they would sometimes go inside and have a good fight!

Looking back, though, I realise those little performances did something for me.

They gave me confidence.

I was learning to stand up, speak clearly and not be afraid of people listening to me.

Years later, I found myself speaking to large audiences and singing in a band. I am sure those early experiences helped.

And perhaps there is a small leadership lesson here too.

When we have a young recruit or someone new to the team, we should give them opportunities to show what they can do. Encourage them to speak, present an idea, lead a small task or simply share what they are good at.

They may be nervous at first, but a little encouragement can build confidence. Sometimes people don't need to be pushed into the spotlight; they just need someone to invite them into it.

So here is my unsolicited advice to young parents.

When guests come over, bring the children out.

Let them say hello. Let them talk. Let them help around the house. Let them tell a story, recite a poem or sing a song.

They may not like it.

I certainly didn't.

But you may be helping them develop confidence without even realising it.

Today, I thank my mother and my aunt for making us do those things.

At the time, I thought they were embarrassing us.

Now I realise they were helping us.

And when I think back to those railway-quarter days, I remember the laughter, the tea, Annette and Penny singing about being “devoted sisters” and then going off to fight, and me standing there reciting Casabianca.

I wouldn't change any of it.

Funny how the things we dislike as children can become some of the things we are most grateful for as adults.