Questioning the Forced Apology

I am making a conscious effort to be less apologetic and more sincere. Until I began catching myself, I tended to chirp "Sorry!" throughout the day for every little thing. If I was upset with someone, I would preface my suggestion with, "I'm sorry, but...." I would apologize frequently and with little meaning. I began to resent the word, "sorry." I began to resent the people I was constantly apologizing to. And when a circumstance would arise where I was genuinely, bottom-of-my-heart, remorsefully in need of forgiveness, I felt that my go-to expression fell much too short. I realized I needed to make a change. And upon that realization, I began to notice other people who seemed to suffer from the same robotic apology ailment- most interestingly, children. The difference was that instead of a quiet little voice inside, urging them to apologize, these children were being directed by their parents. I am going to go out on a limb and say that I think this is wrong, and I'm not sorry to say it!

When my internal effort to change began, I was working as a nanny for two grade-school aged children, Isla and Michael*. I decided to try a new approach when conflict arose between them. Michael was a couple years older and a bit more rambunctious than his sister. He tended to play rough, and on this first day, Isla had burst into tears after being tripped by her brother. My knee-jerk reaction was to firmly instruct Michael to apologize because his sister was bawling! But I resisted. I scooped Isla into my arms for comfort, and turned to Michael calmly. I asked him if he knew why Isla was crying. He answered that she was crying because she was a baby- and this resulted in a scream of protest from the already upset girl.

I then asked Michael if he thought it was a nice thing or a bad thing that his sister was upset. He seemed confused by my question at first, but then responded that it wasn't nice for her to be crying because she was loud. Okay, fine. I asked him next if he was sorry that she was upset. This question was met with a blank stare. At this point, Isla had buried her face against me, but her crying had stopped and she was listening quietly. Michael turned back to his toys and the conversation was over. I did not make him say "sorry." It was hard, but both children seemed fine, if not a little underwhelmed.

A couple days later, a new disaster struck. Michael had called Isla a baby yet again, and she was devastated. I sat down next to Michael and again asked if he thought it was a nice thing or a bad thing that his sister was crying. He did not respond. I asked him if he felt sorry that she was upset. Still, nothing. I then asked Michael if he wanted to tell Isla how he was feeling at that moment. Puzzled, he faced his sister. He softened the slightest bit, and told her that he wished she wasn't crying. He also told her that he knew she wasn't a baby. I felt the urge to ask him to apologize, as he seemed pretty close to doing so already- but I didn't. Isla seemed to appreciate what her brother expressed and the two resumed their activity. I felt good about this progress.

This situation repeated itself various times over the course of the following days. Sometimes, Isla would get upset out of sheer frustration with her brother. Other times, she would react to his deliberate taunting. There were also the instances where Michael would storm off in response to his sister's badgering. I lathered, rinsed and repeated the method of asking the child how they felt. Eventually, they began to say that they didn't think it was a "nice thing" that their sibling was upset. Feelings began briefly being expressed on occasion. Then, one day, it surfaced. Michael, in so many words, said he felt sorry. And I could tell that he did. And from then on, when the two would spat, they would discuss it as it was. Some days, the antagonist would express remorse. Other times, they would simply say that they wish their sibling was not unhappy. And there were still yet the times when the victim received no pity whatsoever from their sibling, yet these were becoming fewer and further between. They were finding "their words" to express miles more than a simple "sorry." They were identifying reasons and expressing their honest feelings. They were not giving knee-jerk apologies for the sake of appeasing me with that little word. They were working it out together.

I understand that parents who make their children apologize are trying to instill a sense of accountability and empathy in them. I think that that is massively important. However, I do question the message for children who are forced to blurt out a phony "sorry" when they don't know why -or even if- they even feel that way. It was through investigating what I considered to be a bad habit of mine that I realized I was passing on a similar practice to others, as many caregivers and parents do every day. I enjoyed the results of the new approach, and I think it is worth trying!

* Names have been changed.