Most parents I know were counting the minutes until their children came home from school last Friday. The news about the mass shooting in Newtown, Connecticut was just too much for them to bear and they needed, as soon as possible, to hug their little, and even not so little, ones out of sheer emotional desperation--to know, rational or not, that they were safe.
But all three of my kids had planned to go friends' houses after school that day, and while a small part of me wanted to spend the remainder of Friday afternoon curled up on the couch with them, the rest of me was more than a little relieved that I had a few more hours alone to spend roving the internet, refreshing every news site and social media channel I had available. I was desperate for information on how this could have possibly happened. Again. This time, in an elementary school, in a peaceful New England town.
I didn't turn on the TV--I couldn't bear to see any live images of horrified children--but remained glued to my laptop screen, nonetheless. And realized that as much as I felt sad, I also felt numb. I was glad my kids weren't home. I didn't really feel like talking. And besides, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to say to them. Or to anyone, in person, or virtually, for that matter.
I am not a scholar of Constitutional Law, although I have my doubts that a home arsenal of semi-automatic weapons was what James Madison and his congressional colleagues were thinking about when drafting the Second Amendment. I am not a trained psychologist and can't genuinely offer anything other than anecdotal advice on how to talk to children in the aftermath of a tragedy. I know nothing about best practices in school security. I haven't studied all the data on whether continued exposure to savage images in the media and in first person shooter video games should be held partially accountable for the culture of violence in this country. And, perhaps most painfully, I have no idea what it would be like to be the parent of mentally ill child, running up against roadblock after roadblock in the search for treatment for her son.
No, I was something that is rare for me last Friday. I was silent. I left the talking to the experts.
But it's a new week--the one in which the days will once again begin to get longer. And in this increased light of day, it is my sincere hope that the experts, the politicians, and perhaps just some regular parents,will speak up and come to the table to figure this out. To figure out how to implement common sense gun control. To figure out how to make access to mental health care easier and more affordable. To figure out if now's the time to toss out that Call of Duty disc in the basement; shouldn't the excitement of the Madden Football be enough for a 15-year-old?
As I heard President Obama work his way through the list of children murdered during his televised remarks at the Newtown interfaith vigil, I recognized familiar first names--Charlotte, Noah, Jack and Olivia. These are also the names of my kid's friends--their cohort--as well. These names, so fashionable among kids born in the last decades, shouldn't be being etched, en masse, into gravestones yet.
The president asked, "Are we prepared to say that such violence visited on our children year after year after year is somehow the price of our freedom?"
I don't think we are, Mr. President. So take the lead. I am hopeful all of America, like me, is finally ready to talk.comments powered by Disqus
Lavish costumes, gorgeous sets, a full orchestra and a concession stand where nothing cost more than two bucks and you have a pitch perfect experience at the theater. Oh, and did I mention the ticket prices were just $10 dollars apiece? One could afford to take the whole family for a live theater experience for less than an evening at the Lego movie would cost including popcorn.
I think the first time in recent years that I've felt a real sense of shame, as both a parent and community member, was last Tuesday evening as I sat in a crowded elementary school LMC to listen to Ken Taylor, executive director of the Wisconsin Council on Children and Families, and his colleague, Torry Wynn, present key findings from the 2013 Race to Equity report to our PTO group.
It's Wednesday morning at Allis Elementary School on Madison's east side, and 16 third-graders -- 10 boys and six girls -- enter into an open-space classroom in typical wiggly, giggly style. Some are making goofy faces at one another, some are bouncing around hand-in-hand with friends, and others are just trying to stay out of the whirling-dervish path of activity.
Of the 789 poorly-composed, way-too-dark and out-of-focus photos currently living on my iPhone, I can count on two hands the number that show my kids and me together. And my husband is in probably no more than three or four of those.
Something kind of magical has happened these past two weeks during the Sochi Olympics. There is no question, debate or disagreement on what will be watched on television once all homework is done. Everyone in the family makes time to sit down together to watch an hour of so of the primetime televised games.
Truth be told, though, this month I'm feeling a bit cinematically fried. In some ways, I already feel like I've spent the last week or so at a film festival. A festival specializing in minute-long glimpses of ordinary lives all ending with credits that feature the ubiquitous blue thumbs-up. Yes, it's been the February of the Facebook movie.
Just last week, on precisely the same day the Momastery post was getting over a million well-deserved views, Madison mom Suzanne Buchko was telling a similar story. Not on a blog but instead in the confines of the modestly circulated Franklin-Randall Elementary School weekly newsletter.
Late last month, the Madison Metropolitan School District adopted a five-year, $27.7 million technology plan calling for all district students, including those in the primary grades, to have significantly increased access to their very own tablet or notebook computer by 2019. Some parents, as well as education professionals, questioned whether elementary-aged kids, especially kindergarteners who aren't even able to read or write yet, will gain much benefit from introducing yet another screen into their lives.
This past Monday, had winter's unrelenting weather allowed, Middleton Cross Plains School District teacher Andrew Harris would have once again been at the helm of a classroom. After nearly four years of fighting his dismissal from Glacier Creek Middle School for viewing and passing on sexually explicit material on district computers, MCPSD has been legally forced to reinstate Herris, this time as a seventh-grade science teacher at Kromrey Middle School.
In a study published last week by the National Bureau of Economic Research, academics have found that the 16 and Pregnant series may have played a significant role in the recent decrease in U.S. teen pregnancies.
In our house, sad but true, we've rarely spent the Martin Luther King holiday discussing race, social justice or the power of non-violent civil disobedience. Instead, the third Monday in January has historically been treated as just another day off school, just another long weekend. And it's been a missed opportunity.
It's not something that happens very often, but last Friday, as news of the impending arctic cold snap reached our house, my kids were rooting for Governor Scott Walker. They were rooting for him to take Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton's lead and cancel school throughout the state. They couldn't care less if he had the authority to do such a thing -- if he called off school, he'd be their hero.
Late last semester, as students were packing up their backpacks one final time before winter break, Middleton High School principal Denise Herrmann and assistant principal Lisa Jondle were co-authoring a note home to parents informing them of a widespread cheating scandal involving nearly 250 calculus students at the school.
Breathe in, breathe out. Have you ever been in the heat of a parenting moment with these words ringing through your head? Then you're on the right path toward mindful parenting.
The week between Christmas and New Year's is famous for all sorts of things. Malls are packed with folks exchanging those holiday sweaters that don't fit just right. It's the week those same folks pledge to never again eat another frosted sugar cookie or candy cane (hence the sweater issues). It's also the week the media saturates the public with dozens of "Best of Year" lists.
This will not (although it could) be a treatise on the value of "alone time" for a healthy marriage, though. Nor will it be an ode to how nice it was for me to have a few days off from lunch-packing, carpool-driving and homework-nagging.
For those of you who haven't yet seen it, the eight-week-long transit campaign, placed both inside and on the outside of buses, features a photo of an orange tabby with a stainless steel bar drilled into its head accompanied by the line "I am not lab equipment. End UW cat experiments!" Just as PETA hopes, the image is shocking and demands an immediate response.
If I had my druthers, I'd sit out the entire shopping week that follows Thanksgiving. Black Friday, for starters, has corrupted the fine art of bargain shopping and turned it into a gladiator sport. There is no percentage off that is worth losing sleep, or even worse an eye, over. Especially if you have kids in tow.
When you shop for toys, there is always the conflict between what you think is appropriate/adorable and what the child being shopped for might actually want/play with.
Many of the pop-culture seasonal touchpoints of my youth are completely lost on my kids. You see, while I may have memorized every word to both the Snow Miser and the Heat Miser's songs from The Year Without a Santa Claus, I'm pretty sure the only Rankin-Bass stop-motion Christmas special my kids have ever seen has been Rudolph.