In Chinese parent-teacher meetings, has anyone truly sat at their child's small desk and chair? During one such meeting, a parent bent down and struggled to squeeze into that tiny cubicle. In that moment when his gaze was forced downward, he didn't see the blackboard; all he saw was a wall of people made up of adults in front of him, and the lectern above, looming and oppressive. At that moment, his heart suddenly tightened.

People always think they are the big trees shielding their children from the wind and rain, but only when they sit on a low stool do they realize— from a child's perspective, adults are more like giants ready to judge at any moment. Once, adults stood pointing and lecturing, full of reasoning, but forgot how, when the child was just learning to walk, they crouched down and opened their arms to welcome him.

In fact, children are here to pass on kindness. This crowded, hard desk and chair is their arena, silently questioning: Are we nurturing a life, or carving a piece of art?

Children are really too difficult. At school, they face the struggle of grades and the teacher's mood; at home, they want to take a breath, but instead are met with the anxious and tense expressions of adults. If it were adults, being watched by the boss during the day and then criticized by a partner at home, they would have already broken down.

But what about children? One moment they are scolded until they cry, and the next they see an adult's hand injured, and they still run over carefully and ask, "Does it hurt?" It's not that children are unruly, but their capacity for tolerance is often greater than that of adults.

The desk and chair are very hard; sitting for a long time can cause back pain. But what hurts even more is the long-neglected, soft heart of childhood. True love is never about forcing children to run forward desperately, but about willing to squat down, patiently listening to those "nonsense" they say, which seem meaningless in adult eyes, rather than immediately asking, "Have you finished your homework?"

Perhaps, adults really should put down their hanging hearts. If you see a child sleeping on the desk, don't rush to wake him; just put a coat over him. Life is long, there's no need to panic. Since adults were once helpless children too, why make things difficult for the growing version of yourself?

Starting today, replace control with trust. When you learn to look at children eye to eye, you'll find— that little guy who was constantly criticized has already quietly grown into someone capable of warming an adult's heart.