PMS, Kindergarten & Self-Reflection

"Buddhism teaches the concept of using our negative tendencies and sufferings as a springboard to happiness." - Daisaku Ikeda President of Soka Gakkai International (SGI), Buddhist Lay Organization

I never thought I could learn anything from PMS. Premenstrual syndrome, that is, the fatigue, mood swings and other symptoms that can happen before a woman's menstrual period begins. Actually, I suspected that PMS was just a myth. Well, not anymore. Now I am a bona fide PMS believer.

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To what do I owe my conversion? It all started one weekday morning when my first-time kindergartner was doing what had become "the usual." She was whining and pouting to the tune of "I don't want to go to school." I had already told her the day before that I was in a slump, which I was chanting to overcome.

Prior to that morning's episode, I had mixed feelings about the school my daughter was attending. On the one hand, I had made arrangements to send her, not to the school just blocks away from where we live, but to what I believed to be the best public primary school in our district. It was a ten-minute drive away from our house. Unlike the school around the corner, it did not offer half-day kindergarten, which I would have preferred.

One of the reasons I wanted my daughter to attend a public school was because I felt that doing so would help her develop a positive attitude about our community. East Cleveland, the once loved home of philanthropist John D. Rockefeller, is an urban-like suburb on the serious comeback after years of decline. I wanted my daughter to take pride in being a resident of our historic and culturally rich city. On the other hand, I knew that there were private schools, and schools in more affluent neighborhoods, that could offer her a more academically challenging environment.

I took all of my concerns to our family's altar. As a Nichiren Buddhist I pray by chanting the phrase Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. By chanting, Nichiren Buddhists aim to see the true reality of our lives and to awaken to the Buddha nature that has always existed within us and all things. Our belief is that chanting enables us to bring forth the Buddha within us. We define a Buddha as one who perceives that she or he inherently possesses limitless wisdom, compassion, courage and the power and freedom to create any reality she or he chooses. Chanting enables us to bring forth this awareness so that we can utilize our limitless creative potential to lead winning lives and help others do the same.

As I chanted about my daughter I determined that she would have an enjoyable school experience that would inspire her to love to learn throughout her life and that would help her develop into a person who strives to create benefit for herself and all humanity. However, the reality was that my daughter was extremely shy at school. Her teacher expressed concern to me about her refusal to speak up in class, even when her classmates would try to get her to talk to them. The teacher said my daughter's shyness was keeping her from progressing as well as she could. When I asked my daughter why she behaved that way (she's plenty loud at home), she said, "Mom, I'm afraid to talk at school." I was surprised to hear her speak of fear, but grateful for her honesty. Her words made me remember my lack of confidence as a child; so I chanted for both her and me to be courageous. I invited her to join me, and chanting together before she left for school became a morning routine for our whole family, including her two and three year-old sister and brother.

The day before the fateful PMS morning, I had explained to my daughter that my tiredness and moodiness may have been brought on by my upcoming monthly cycle. I told her that during this time, she might want to go easy on her mom. But I guess that by the next morning she had forgotten my attempt to warn her. So to my cranky daughter, I ended up blurting out without a tinge of sympathy: "Face it, you're in kindergarten. You have to get dressed. You have to go to school. That's life. Deal with it and stop crying to me about it, because I don't want to hear it this morning!"

Her reaction was amazing to me. The pouting stopped immediately. But even more than that, when we arrived at school, for the first time since the school year had begun, she entered her classroom without weeping, wailing and clinging to me as though I was heartlessly leaving her alone in a room full of scary monsters.

Later, I chanted about her miraculous change, which seemed to be the result of my witchy, PMS-induced remarks. In one morning, she had morphed from a fearful preschooler who could not go to school without major drama, to a confident kid who could. "OK, what just happened?" I wondered while chanting.

Advice I had read from an American Buddhist leader, Linda Johnson, came to mind. Her words were based on the concept of the oneness of life and environment. This theory explains that, in life, each one of us can be thought of as the "body" and any environment that we find ourselves in is like the "shadow" that perfectly mirrors the condition of our own individual inner state.

Linda said, "If you think your environment is saying that you cannot have it, it is merely reflecting the fact that you believe you cannot have it."

As I chanted, I started applying Linda's words to the situation with my daughter. I thought, "When my daughter was saying she didn't want to go to school, she was merely reflecting the fact that I didn't want her to go to school."

Here's what I realized: My daughter's fears about going to school were a clear reflection of my own fears and dissatisfaction. For instance, all along while my mouth was saying, "Your school is great," my mind was saying: "I didn't know how to read in kindergarten. I had plenty of time to play and be creative, and I became a very good reader. Why doesn't this school offer more enrichment activities instead of focusing so much on teaching kindergartners to read?" And while I said, "You'll start liking school, just wait and see," inwardly I thought, "My baby's too young to be in school all day. I wish this school had half-day kindergarten."

But as I chanted about my daughter's sudden change in behavior, I realized that without me knowing it, my mouth and mind had gotten into synch. Because of PMS, I was simply too whipped to want anything else but for my daughter to go to school that morning so that I could get a little break. I didn't have time to think that she wasn't old enough. I believed that for her life and for mine she was in the best place. And I wanted her to go there, grow up, be happy and learn what she needed to learn. When I really felt this way from the bottom of life, my daughter's crying outside of her classroom stopped. It was like night and day.

These days my daughter says that school is fun. She is part of a pilot music instruction program in our school district, which offers Suzuki violin lessons (especially designed for young children), she was moved up to the most challenging learning group in her class, she has two best school-friends and in first grade she will be placed in the school's advanced curriculum program in which she will learn Spanish as well as engage in other enriching experiences.

So thank you, PMS, for being the catalyst that made me feel uncomfortable enough to move out of my daughter's way so that she could have more room to grow. And thank you, Linda Johnson, for some wise words that have been transforming my life ever since I first read them. And mostly, I must thank my daughter for, once again, leading me to see my own life more clearly-for being one of my very best teachers.