Parenting – Page 12 – All It Takes Is A Little Love

It’s About Time

Published on June 28, 2016June 27, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Glenda Jones13516264_10209578242793605_5124992074342233422_n Back in the eighties my eldest daughter, Maryellen, was a member of the Janette Dance team at South Houston High School. She had taken ballet and tap lessons from the time that she was five years old, first at a church in Pasadena and later from Patty Owens near our home in southeast Houston. Our family budget often tended to be stressed beyond our means but we somehow managed to find the funds for the classes that she loved so very much. Over time it became apparent that she had a natural talent for dance, most likely inherited from my mother who had her own reputation for being light on her feet and as graceful as a swan. When Maryellen earned a coveted spot on her school’s dance team it seemed to be a reward for all of her hard work and determination. Our family time began to revolve around practices, performances at football games, cotillions, competitions, camps and shows.

I was a fairly young mom, only in my late thirties, when I joined forces with other mothers in providing costumes, decorations, food and other kinds of support for our beautiful young girls. We were all caught up in the joys of our children’s teenage years. We ladies often met to build sets or design programs. We became expert seamstresses who made intricate pieces of clothing. I still recall almost tearing my hair out while sewing the game day suit that Maryellen had to wear on Fridays during football season. It was a complex project but well worth the effort in the end. I recall volunteering to work long hours in those days and at those times I got to know the other moms who were as lovingly devoted to their children as I was to mine. There were dance competitions that demanded whole days of our time and summer camps that required long drives and funds that we might have used otherwise. We sometimes joined in the fun by performing in hilarious dance routines that made us the laughing stock of the audience but also demonstrated just what good sports we were. Those were some of the best times of my entire life and the memories of those days remain precious even today.

Maryellen advanced through the ranks of the team to become one of the military officers, a Lieutenant. She worked hard to meet all of the requirements of the honor, including choreographing original dances and designing costumes and props. Because she so loved the experience, so did I. Those were the wonder years in which her confidence and abilities grew under the watchful eye of her always committed instructor, Glenda Jones Bludworth, a loving woman who taught her dancers how to present themselves with grace in any situation. She was more than just a teacher. She became a friend, mentor and counselor to each of her students. Because we parents witnessed her devotion to our children, we loved her as much as our girls did.

As is usually the case with good times, they flew by all too quickly. Soon Maryellen was attending the University of Texas and focusing on more serious academic goals. She had little time for dancing as she studied constantly to earn the grades that would allow her to be accepted into the McCombs School of Business. The days of visiting Southern Imports in search of fabrics, feathers and sequins were gone. The worn section of carpet in our den where Maryellen had practiced all of her dance routines was the only reminder of those lovely days. I lost track of the women with whom I had spent so many hours. Time raced by and I too turned my attention to new challenges and adventures, forgetting for a moment the joys of being a dance mom.

It has been almost thirty years since Maryellen donned her leotards and dancing shoes. In the interim she earned degrees in Finance and Accounting, worked, married and became mom to four boys who find the stories of her days on the stage to be strangely confusing. Now she is the one who spends almost every free moment supporting her sons’ hobbies and talents. She is the one who now juggles the family budget to find all of the funding for equipment, camps, classes, trips and college so that her boys will be able to enjoy their youth as much as she did hers. Like I once did, she has a circle of friends whose commonality is based on swimming, scouts, theater and school activities. She keeps books for the teams and creates end of season slideshows. Her world is hectic but wonderful. She rarely thinks back to those days when she was an extraordinary dancer who riveted the attention of her many admirers. The memories seem to be both long ago and just like yesterday.

A group of Janette Dancers recently decided to host a kind of reunion of the classes who had been members of the team under the direction of their beloved Glenda Jones Bludworth. The “girls” are now in their forties and some are even knocking on the door of the fifties. Like Maryellen they have children in college, high school and middle school. They have enjoyed marriages and careers and evolved to a time in their lives when they more closely resemble their mothers and me were back in the day. They are beautiful women who learned their teacher’s lessons well and carry themselves with the poise and self respect that she instilled in them.

Happily they did not fail to remember their mothers in planning this event. We were invited to celebrate the life of Glenda Jones Bludworth along with them. I enjoyed sitting at a table with ladies who had been my constant companions so many years before. We bragged on the successes of our daughters and exchanged photos of our grandchildren. We recalled our own sacrifices of money and time and how we would not have changed a thing. We laughed at some of the silly things that we did and grew saddened as we remembered ladies who had been part of our mother brigade who are no longer alive. Mostly we each had remarkable stories of the wonderful influence that Glenda had on our children. We all agreed that she was one of those once in a lifetime educators who goes well beyond the requirements of her job. She reached into the very hearts and souls of her girls and helped them to find the strengths and talents that defined them as unique and outstanding individuals.

It was grand to once again be reminded of a time in life that was so happy for all of us. I found myself amazed that our time together had been so long ago and yet seemed so near and dear. I was particularly happy that all of the delightful young women whom I had watched grow in wisdom and age and grace had remembered and appreciated their amazing teacher. She had so truly earned the attention and praise that they heaped on her. All too often we become so busy with the demands of daily existence that we forget to show our gratitude to the people who did so much to make us who we are. We let the clock tick and tick until it is too late and our hearts are filled with regret that we never took the opportunity to voice the thanks that we always meant to convey. Somehow Glenda’s Girls understood that they needed to stop the passage of time for a few hours so that they might demonstrate how truly important their moment with her had been. It’s about time!

Being What You Want Them To Be

Published on June 8, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

babyfeet Language is a very funny thing. When we speak or write down our thoughts we generally have a purpose and a specific meaning in mind. Once our words move beyond our control, too far from us to explain them, they may take on a life of their own that we never intended. Just recently I wrote what was supposed to be a very complimentary essay but because of the focus that I chose and the ideas that I left out, my attempt at honoring someone became instead a means of slighting a person whom I hold in great esteem. It took some effort for me to unravel the gooey mess that I had inadvertently created. Thus it is and always will be whenever we attempt to convey ideas and thus is the reason that I will most likely anger some people with today’s blog.

The court of public opinion is awash with horror over the sentencing of Brock Turner for three felony convictions of sexual assault. Not only are people aghast that his punishment appears to be too lenient but they are even critical of comments that his father made in a letter to the judge pleading for a measure of sympathy for Brock. None of this might be such big news were it not for a touching and powerful letter from the victim of Brock’s assault that has captivated those who have taken the time to read it. She is a gifted writer who has managed with great clarity to convey the horror of living through such an attack and its life changing aftermath. Her eloquence brings her heartbreak to life, making her terror all the more real. Only a soul without a shred of sensitivity might read her account without experiencing a strong and sympathetic reaction.

I have been greatly saddened since hearing about this case and realizing that it is but one of thousands that occur on a regular basis. Long ago when I was about the same age as the victim in this instance, I lived in an apartment project that had a wonderful community spirit. Many of us gathered outside in the evenings to share stories of our days and to relax just a bit while we watched our children play. One of the women that I met in this way was returning from the laundry room one afternoon when she was followed by a stranger that she did not notice. Before she realized what was happening he was inside her home putting a knife to her throat. He threatened to kill her and her baby if she made even a sound. Then he violently raped her. She was never the same. The incident broke her once lively spirit. She couldn’t even stand to live in the rooms that reminded her of the attack so she went to her mother’s home while her husband prepared to move the family away permanently. The incident both frightened and saddened those who had known her and to make matters worse her attacker was never found.

I will never in any way condone what Brock Turner did on that January night in the aftermath of a fraternity party. There are no valid excuses. He may not have ever done anything similar in all of his days on earth but it only took that one time for him to forever ruin the life of the woman of whom he took advantage. He certainly trashed his own future as well which is what happens when one forgets to abide by the laws of common decency. He may be wishing everyday that he might go back in time and not do this despicable act or get drunk or even go to the frat party but what is done is done and he will pay the price of his actions forevermore. He will ever again be in contention for a spot on an Olympic swimming team. He will be lucky to get any kind of decent job given his record of three felony convictions. Everywhere that he attempts to go he will have to register as a sex offender. He is and will probably always be a pariah in our society because of his unthinking and offensive actions. He has not only harmed a woman who can’t quite move beyond what he did to her, but he has also dishonored his family and all of the people who once believed in him. He will have to live with his crime for the rest of his days and that is as it should be.

I have not been able to erase Brock Turner’s victim from my mind since I first read the vivid account of her continuing ordeal. I feel a level of sympathy for his parents as well for Brock has irreparably harmed them. Raising children is the most difficult and frightening job that there is. All of us who have attempted this know of the worries, sleepless nights and mistakes that we make. We hope and pray that we have said all that we need to say and that our children will truly understand the lessons we have taught them. When we first allow them freedom and independence we try to quell our fears but in truth we are always nervous because we understand that the who they will eventually become are not just a products of our making, but also of the many people who influence them along the way. The truth is that there comes a time when we as parents exert less and less control over them. We have to watch them from afar. Only when time and their actions demonstrate that they are indeed the good and honest citizens that we taught them to be do we begin to relax.

Brock Turner’s father wrote a letter to the judge asking for mercy for his son just as most of us might have done for one of our children. His persuasive ability and way with words is the polar opposite of the victim who so captivated our hearts with her inspiring essay. His remarks are so tone deaf and poorly expressed that it might have been better had he not written anything at all. That being said, defending our kids even when they have disappointed us beyond measure is what we parents do. I cannot fault him for his efforts. He loves his son and I suspect that the negative interpretations that people have placed on his thoughts are not what he meant at all. Now he is being castigated and blamed for his son’s actions as though he is somehow responsible. Without knowing anything about this man or what his household is like, the public has jumped to negative conclusions that may or may not have merit. We have convicted Brock’s father without a trial or evidence. Our judgement of him is based on hearsay and a badly crafted note and it is morally wrong to convict him without proof that his negligence or influence somehow created a criminal.

We might be better served if instead of gossiping on the Facebook wall and Twitter universe we were to talk with our children both male and female. Each of them has certain behavioral responsibilities and we must be certain that they learn how to keep their baser human instincts in check. The temptations that they will encounter are many and part of our job is to train them to recognize dangerous situations and to know what to do when we are no longer around to monitor them. It is incumbent on all parents to talk frequently and openly with their kids. Our young need to be taught how to respect themselves and in turn provide that same reverence to everyone with whom they interact. We can’t drum human decency into their minds often enough and it is never too early to start such conversations and to demonstrate what we mean by our own examples. We need to be what we want them to be.

One of my grandsons who was only in elementary school complained about a student who was discussing sexual ideas in a very crass and demeaning way at lunch each day. The teachers and counselors made little effort to stop the offending commentaries and instead implied that my grandson just needed to lighten up a bit. As long as our society encourages a “boys will be boys attitude” there will continue to be cases of abuse like Brock Turner’s. As a society have to consider the impact of our tendencies to avoid talking with our children about the uglier aspects of human behavior. Instead of wagging our self righteous fingers at Brock Turner’s father we need to be certain that we are doing all that we can to educate our kids and help them to understand the importance of honoring every human life in every circumstance.

A terrible tragedy has ruined the lives of many, many people. The victim will never again have the sense of trust that she once possessed. Her family and friends will feel her pain and worry about her forevermore. Brock’s parents will be wracked with guilt, shame and humiliation. Brock Turner will pay the price of his actions and it will be heavy whether he spends time in jail or has to find a place for himself in a world where many view him as a monster. Nobody wins and all because he did not stop himself from performing grotesque actions on a woman that he did not know. Let his story be a tale of warning for all of us and let it remind us of our own responsibilities.

The Right Person At the Right Time

Published on June 1, 2016June 1, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

cropped-human_development_timeline There are countless books, magazines and articles devoted to parenting babies, toddlers and adolescents. We have become quite good at knowing how to best raise our children into adults. As humans we sometimes make mistakes along the way but in most cases our flubs are not fatal. Year after year the seeds of good parenting bloom into the men and women who accept the responsibility of being vanguards of the next generation. Those of us who have completed our work humbly step back and assume a new role in the never ending circle of life. At least that is how we assume that the pattern will go, but sadly reality is a great deal more messy than our idealized visions of the way things ought to be.

None of us live in isolation. The outside world impinges on the harmony of our nuclear families. There are demands and occurrences over which parents have no control. We have to learn how to juggle our own ideals with the conflicting beliefs that are all around us. Keeping our children within our sight may keep us in control for a time but ultimately our little ones become teenagers and push to gain a modicum of independence. They explore, sometimes in dangerous places. It is in their natures to take risks. Our influence on them appears to diminish. We feel as though we are walking on a tightrope as we struggle to find the perfect balance between reinforcing the lessons we have taught them while allowing them to find their own identities.

As parents we never stop thinking about our kids even when they have successfully navigated into a state of complete independence. We worry about their happiness and health just as much as we did when they were helpless babies. We have to learn how to accept the decisions that they make even when they differ from our own philosophies. We have to be careful not to cross a line in our judgements and comments about the way they live. We are no longer in charge, a fact that is sometimes difficult for some of us to accept. Our relationship with an adult child must mature. We must grow just as they have.

As time goes by if we have done our jobs as parents properly we will be able to relax as we see our offspring navigating the treacherous waters of life with the kind of wisdom that we had always hoped to instill in them. They will not always approach particular situations the way we might have but they succeed nonetheless and that makes us proud. We tell ourselves to let go of the locus of control knowing full well that we will still wake up in the middle of the night wondering if everything is okay.

Eventually we ourselves may become a source of worry for those around us. We age and our bodies and minds begin to slow or even break down. We are unable to be the towers of strength and energy that we once were. Our kids become sandwiched between us and their own children. They have to learn how to deal with elderly parents who cling steadfastly to independence even when the evidence shows that they need assistance. Hopefully we will have enough wisdom to know when it is our time to surrender and allow them to help us. There is nothing quite as difficult as fighting with parents just to bring them the safe environment that they need.

I have seen wonderful examples of families that sailed through each and every season of life, somehow knowing exactly how to react to changes and challenges. All too often though I hear of the tension that stresses relationships as the parents of adults staunchly refuse to relax their domination over their children. They criticize and make demands instead of accepting that their time as guardian has ended. They want to maintain a firm grip on their adult children by being the center of the universe, the person in charge. Sadly they don’t seem to understand that love does not come from control.

I also hear of clashes with elderly parents who refuse to admit that they are no longer capable of being alone. When their children step forward to assume the responsibilities of caring for them they are met with resistance and insults. It becomes a battle for the younger generation to do the right thing. It takes a great deal of love to overlook the barbs. Those who refuse to be dissuaded are very special people whose love for their parents make them willing to turn the other cheek even when the arguments become ugly and personal. They are able to recognize that the venom that they encounter is sometimes the result of fear and often a failing mind. They rise above the ugliness but the fighting takes its toll.

My mother used to quote the Bible, insisting that we each reach a particular time when we must defer to the laws of nature. We have certain roles to play at different moments in life. When her mind was working well my mom was a delight. She enjoyed being a grandmother and a great grandmother and took full advantage of our desire to make her life easier. When her mind was clouded and confused by mental illness she was difficult. My brothers and I had to make decisions for her that she refused to accept. When she pushed back we had to tell ourselves that it was not her talking, but her illness. We endured bouts of guilt and anger even as we understood that we were doing what was best.

Not everyone is as easy going as my grandfather was as he entered his nineties and then his hundreds. He gave away his car as soon as he felt that he had become old enough to become a menace on the road. He understood his limitations and did not fight them. He accepted that he was no longer the tower of strength that he had once been. He enjoyed his twilight years as best he could even though he sometimes wondered when he would finally be allowed to rest for eternity. He was a model of common sense and acceptance of his station in life. He taught us much about how to grow old gracefully. He was loved beyond measure for his understanding.

I have made countless mistakes first as a child and then as a parent. We all have. I have had to learn to be forgiving of myself and willing to ask the forgiveness of others. We humans are filled with imperfections but we always have opportunities to correct our toxic behaviors. There will be many many times when we must begin again anew. Sometimes in order to be the adult in the room we have to set our personal feelings aside and display deep understanding and wisdom in analyzing a particular situation. Our challenge is to know when to stand back, when to walk away or when to take charge. If our motives are guided by love, we will generally know what to do. Living life is not easy but it can be wonderful so long as we are willing to work hard to be the right person in the right time.

Begin With the Little Ones

Published on May 31, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

csp-shaken-baby-syndrome

Yesterday my niece posted a photo of her eight year old daughter lying in bed grieving over the death of a special little kitten. The image was heartbreaking because it illustrated the depth of the little girl’s feelings. She was so obviously bereft. Her mother sweetly acknowledge the youngster’s emotions, noting that the child was only eight but appeared to have the sensitivity of someone far older. Because my niece is a wise and excellent mother she was more than prepared to acknowledge and deal with her child’s sorrow. I have little doubt that the beautiful child will be able to work out her feelings under the loving guidance of her mom.

Sometimes we adults tend to believe that there is a sliding scale of human emotions running from one to ten with ten being the most powerful. We assume that children’s feelings lie somewhere along the lower end and that only adults are capable of feeling the full force of sorrow. The truth is that children are just as likely to endure the maximum impact of difficult situations as older individuals but they don’t always know how to understand or even express their pain. Quite often they either act out in ways that appear naughty or they withdraw into a world of confusion. Unless an adult recognizes that their behavior is a sign of inner turmoil, they may end up repressing thoughts and feelings that need to be expressed.

Like the my niece’s little girl I was only eight when I experienced a great loss, the death of my father. There was a swirl of activity around me as friends and family gathered to console my mother. She was, of course, quite bereft and almost incapable of functioning. She was in a state of shock for days and only managed to pull herself together because she was determined to care for me and my brothers. She was above all a loving mother. Unfortunately almost all of the well intentioned adults seemed to believe that I was far too young to even comprehend the magnitude of what had happened much less have strong feelings. When they came to help my mama they shooed me outside to play. They thought that I needed distractions from the whispering and crying that was unfolding inside the house. Their intentions were good. They truly believed that they were protecting me from the harsh realities. They did not realize how much I needed to be part of the grieving process.

I was feeling tortured and confused. I desperately wanted more than anything to talk about what had happened to our family. I spent my days barely holding together with an act that convinced everyone that I was totally oblivious. At night when I believed that nobody was listening I cried myself to sleep. My thoughts were so unresolved that for a time my personality changed. I became fearful and hyper-responsible. I somehow felt that it was up to me to be a very good girl for my mother’s sake, even as I wanted to scream and act out.

I suppose that it was natural for the grownups caring for me to think that my lack of response to my father’s death was proof that I was too young to have a concept of what was happening. They were probably even relieved that I appeared to be so passive and unconcerned. The reality was that I was in dire need of counseling but nobody ever picked up on that fact. I dealt with the terror inside my head on my own, sometimes convinced that something was wrong with me.

Over time I reflected on my situation and my personal feelings and I was able to self-heal. Reading and observing led me to understand and console myself. I eventually overcame the poisons that stayed so long in my mind but I suspect that I have a few more scars than I might have had I been given the opportunity to talk with a kind and caring adult who was willing to value my emotions and assure me that I was normal.

I suspect that my life-long love of working with troubled children has been a way of coping with my own inner demons. I have found that all that little lost souls sometimes need is someone willing to listen to them with respect. Our understanding of the human mind has evolved even in my lifetime. We now realize that children are as emotionally complex as adults and that in times of trauma they require the kind of gentle and loving care that my niece has afforded her little girl. We no longer underestimate the powerful emotions elicited by loss. We have come to realize that each of us no matter the age reacts to tragedy and trauma in ways that must be addressed and honored.

Most schools today are staffed with counselors and observant teachers who watch for signs from their students that something is amiss. Modern day parents talk openly with their little ones and have age appropriate discussions about the life and death situations that affect them. Children are generally allowed to express themselves in quiet and safe conversations.

We have come a very long way in understanding the human psyche but there are still terrible problems in our society. The young man who began a shooting spree here in Houston over the weekend had served in Afghanistan. Family members said that he had come to believe that society was about to collapse. I have little doubt that what he had done and seen in war had somehow broken him. There is no telling what was going through his mind. The sad truth is that our veterans are suffering in particular. Each day there are far too many of them committing suicide or considering acts of violence. We have let many of them down by neglecting to help them to deal with the stress and the terror that they have endured. All too often we send them back home to deal with the upheaval inside their minds without the assistance that they need.

There has been a worldwide argument over whether or not the gorilla at the Cincinnati zoo should have been killed but I haven’t heard anyone mention the needs of the young child who created the furor. He may not be able to express what this event did to him but I can almost guarantee that its impact will be dramatic. I have known children who were subjected to horrific abuse when they were infants and toddlers. They were unable to recall the details but somehow felt the enormity of the pain well into their teenage years. Their anger and confusion often expressed itself in outbursts, sexual promiscuity, depression and violence. They had been damaged and nobody had taken the time to help them properly heal simply because it was thought that they would not remember what had happened to them.

We must love, cherish and protect anyone who endures tragedy. Without the proper unpacking of the varied thoughts and emotions that result from harm or loss, repressed feelings may lead to horrible consequences. It is right and good to understand that even the smallest among us need understanding and the opportunity to express themselves. It is not up to us to judge the way that people react to life’s experiences but to allow them to honestly express the emotions filling their heads. Sometimes all we need do is acknowledge how beautiful and sensitive they are. We need to check on them as they progress through the stages of recovery. We must let them know that it is not just okay but quite normal to grieve or be angry. Mostly we need to love them.

Summertime Classrooms

Published on May 26, 2016 by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

kids-playing-for-the-summer So Memorial Day weekend is coming and the schools are closing for the summer. Tomorrow will be the last day for teachers and students across the land…NOT! Shockingly, virtually every child still has an entire week of classes left and some even have two more weeks to go. What happened to the launch of summer fun on Memorial Day? Who decided that it was a great idea to keep the kids working until well into June? How did this happen without someone protesting? Is this really healthy or necessary for our youth?

I just left my daughter’s home and I worry that my grandchildren are majorly stressed out. They are only in the sixth grade but they have comprehensive final exams in every subject next week, Can you guess what they will be doing over the so called holiday weekend? They have intricate multi-page study guides with information that they must review before the big tests which begin on Tuesday. There will be no time for barbecues or swimming or a quick trip. Instead they will spend the three day weekend making certain that they remember everything that they have learned during the school year. There goes all of the fun for them and their parents!

I honestly don’t understand what anyone hopes to accomplish by extending the school year more and more. When I was young we were always finished in time for Memorial Day and we knew that we wouldn’t have to return until after Labor Day. We weren’t exactly an ignorant generation because of that schedule. In fact we actually learned quite a few bits of practical information and skills during our three month vacation. That was when a week spent with my grandparents on their farm taught me about birds, rocks, gardening, cooking and survival skills. It was the time when my mother taught me how to touch type without looking at the keys and how to sew. I went on a book reading binge each summer, checking out as many volumes as the library allowed and consuming them well before they were due to be returned. That was also when I got my first jobs and because they actually lasted for three months I earned a full four quarters of Social Security time before I had even graduated from high school. I also found out how to keep books in a medical clinic and what it takes to run an office. No amount of class time would have given me such fantastic experiences. I literally had an internship with life each and every summer.

I understand that there is a belief among many that children need more, not less time in classrooms. Still, our society has gone a bit overboard in demanding so much of a young person’s time. I have watched my grandchildren leave for school at seven in the morning and not return until after five in the evening. They have no time for independent play. After a quick dinner they have to hit the books because they have so many assignments and projects to complete. There is rarely a moment to spare. If they are very lucky they manage to get everything completed before bedtime but there are also nights when their work keeps them up far longer than they should be. They become grumpy and tired and mostly they just don’t get to be kids. At this moment in the school year they are hopelessly burned out and yet the demands continue unabated.

I realize that some children live in deplorable conditions and that school is the safest and most productive place that they might ever be. I certainly agree that we need to create programs for them but why pull the entire population of children into the same one size fits all schedule? We really don’t need to over-plan the lives of our youth. It is often in those moments when they have to rely on their own creativity that they learn the most.

I remember putting on shows for the neighborhood. It took rehearsals and imagination to produce a worthy program. I garnered more knowledge during those moments than I might have filling out worksheets and tests during an extra week of school.

On other occasions me and the other neighborhood kids created a local newspaper, complete with comic strips and editorials. Each of us contributed to the process and had to use our writing skills as well as our business expertise. It was great fun. I would later read that Truman Capote and Harper Lee did the same thing when they were children living next door to one another. They used an old typewriter and spent entire summers creating stories and using their fledgling writing abilities. Who knows how things might have turned out for them if they had been stuck in school instead.

I don’t want to underestimate the power of education and adult guidance but I also believe that there is much to be said for providing children with the freedom to innovate. It is in those moments that adults are not watching that we are often the most curious. When nobody is there to help us we use our minds to find solutions to our problems. We also learn how to work with others without the interference of well meaning parents. We navigate around the bully who lives down the street and negotiate with friends to distribute power. We learn teamwork from experience.

I don’t expect to see the powers that be changing our educational year anytime soon. I suspect that the pendulum is swinging in favor of ever more time spent in classrooms which actually makes me a bit sad. Children are flexible and they will adapt to whatever the adults tell them they must do but when I think about what they will be missing it makes me worry. I had a near perfect childhood and I would so love for all youngsters to have the adventures that I had. I had no father and very little money but each morning for three whole months I was the ruler of my day. I got to decide if it was going to be spent reading a new book from the library or playing a life or death game of Scrabble with my friends. I could ride my bicycle to the swimming pool at the junior high or walk to art lessons at Ripley House. It was my call and I loved it.

Perhaps we can find a way to compromise. Children today are certainly being exposed to ever more information and opportunities but they often have no idea how to entertain themselves. We need to help them to develop that skill along with the others that prepare them for life. Sometimes being stuck in the yard with only a water hose and a few friends is the perfect invitation to creativity. When faced with boredom, most children eventually discover how to have fun without spending money or attending a class. Sometimes the best classroom is the one that they have to run by themselves.