Why Children Feel What Adults Fear: Modern Jataka Lessons

We say emotions matter —
but mostly when we’re talking about children.
To jest emotional hypocrisy of adults that we pretend not to see.

In schools, in corporate trainings, in leadership retreats,
we sit in “emotional intelligence” workshops,
tick the boxes, share something safe,
do the group activity, take the certificate…

…and then go straight back
to the same habits of silence and self-protection.

Not because we don’t want to change,
but because adult culture quietly teaches us:

Feeling is dangerous.
Vulnerability is a risk.
Protocol matters more than people.

This article is about the emotional hypocrisy of adulthood:
we expect children to master emotions
we refuse to practice.

We demand children grow emotionally,
while adults are trained to disconnect —
efficient, controlled, polished —
taught to look human,
not to be human.

We can define emotional intelligence perfectly on PowerPoint…
but panic when an actual emotion enters the room.

Jataka Tales were not written to make children good.
They were written to make humans honest.
I use them in my work not as cute stories for little ones,
but as ancient mirrors held up to modern adults.

Children know something we forget.
Something ancient.
Something dangerous.

And the Jataka universe has been warning us for 2,000 years
about emotional truths adults no longer dare to live.

Three stories.
Three warnings.
Three mirrors.

The Monkey King — When Strength Breaks

(Mahākapi Jataka)

Jataka Tale
The Monkey King becomes a bridge with his own body to save his tribe.
Everyone survives — except him.
The strongest collapse where no one sees.

When I Became the Giant in the Room

It was one of those mornings where exhaustion wears a smile like a mask.
Little voices bubbling everywhere — louder than my nervous system could carry.

I tried the calm teacher voice.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Ignored each time like background music.

And then —
all the thin threads holding me together snapped.

“QUIET!”
It erupted out of me like lightning hitting dry ground.

Silence.
Total, stunned silence.

Twenty-four children froze
as if a giant had stomped into the room.

One tiny girl — the bravest heart in a five-year-old body —
looked up with wet eyes and trembled:

“Ma’am… you scared me.”

The words didn’t hit my ears —
they hit my spine.

That moment I wished
I could rewind myself
back five seconds
before I became the monster in their fairy tale.

Shame flooded my throat,
thick and burning.

I sat down — not gracefully —
but like someone whose heart suddenly weighed too much.

“I shouldn’t have shouted.
I’m sorry.
I was overwhelmed.
Can we try again?”

Children forgive
faster than adults even notice harm.

They walked toward me
without hesitation,
without fear,
without doubt.

Tiny hands on my arms,
my shoulders,
my bruised pride.

One whispered:
“We will listen now, ma’am… sorry ma’am.”

Another girl — the collector of tiny wonders —
pulled out a shiny bead she’d found
in the wild jungle of loose parts.
She pressed it into my palm:

“Ma’am, this is for you… please smile.
We love you.”

Not one child asked for a protocol report.
Not one said:
“This behavior undermines your professional credibility.”
Not one judged.

They did what adults forget how to do:

They met emotion with empathy
instead of ego.

And in their arms, I realized:

Children don’t fear emotional truth.
Adults fear being seen.

The Deer King — Empathy Without Permission

(Nigrodhamiga Jataka)

Jataka Tale
A golden deer senses fear in another and steps forward to protect a life that isn’t his own.
Not for praise — simply because it’s the right thing.

The Hug That Found the Cracks

A long day.
A tired heart behind a professional smile.
Adults rushing past as if feelings are invisible.

He noticed.
A five-year-old with eyes that saw more truth than adults ever admit.

He placed a small warm hand on my shoulder,
looked straight into my heart,
and whispered:

“Can I hug you, ma’am?”

No protocol.
No performance.
No hesitation.

Just a child choosing compassion
because compassion felt right.

Children feel first.
Adults judge first.

One of these is closer to enlightenment.

The Parable of the Saw — Pain Without Cruelty

(Kakacupama Jataka)

Jataka Tale
Monks were taught that even if bandits cut them apart with a saw,
they must not let hatred enter their hearts.
Pain is not the enemy — losing compassion is.

Pain is not the problem.
Turning pain into harm — that is the danger.

Pain Waiting for Permission

Sciatica seized my body at work.
Standing hurt.
Sitting hurt.
Breathing hurt.

I needed help.
I got protocol.

“Wait.”
“For the slip.”
“For permission to be in pain.”

They placed me alone in a medical room
because presence wasn’t allowed
until paperwork approved humanity.

Forty minutes
before compassion caught up with the rules.

Adults bury their hearts alive
and call it professionalism.

When Kindness Wasn’t Returned

I helped a colleague many times
because I understood her situation
and believed in being a friend.

When praise came,
she took it all.
Smiling.
Silent.

Adults ration acknowledgment
as if someone else’s light
might steal their own.

Children celebrate each other boldly.
Adults compete quietly.

The Crime Against Feeling

We expect children to be emotionally brave
so adults don’t have to be.

We clap for a child who cries honestly,
comforts a friend,
admits fear,
speaks truth…

…but when adults do the same?

We call it:
“weak,”
“dramatic,”
“unprofessional.”

We worship emotional intelligence
as long as it stays small enough to manage.

Children do not lose emotional courage.
Adults extract it.

We teach empathy
then punish it when inconvenient.
We tell children to “use your words”
while swallowing ours.
We tell them to “be kind”
while enforcing cruelty through policy.

We tell children to be human
while we audition for gods.

Online, we shine.
Offline, we hide.

Are you emotionally honest —
or only on social media?

Jataka’s Verdict on Us

We destroy emotional courage in children
because we are terrified to recover it in ourselves.

If we want emotionally strong children,
we must show them emotionally honest adults:

Cry without apologizing.
Admit fear without shame.
Give credit without fear.
Offer comfort without waiting for permission.
Feel — without needing an audience.

Emotional control is not the absence of emotion.
It is the courage to keep your heart open while bleeding.

Otherwise:

Stop teaching Jataka Tales
if you refuse to become the moral of the story.

Before you ask a child to “use your words,”
ask yourself:

When was the last time
you used yours — truthfully?

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Next in the Jataka Tales of Today series: Courage
(The emotion adults perform. The emotion children live.)