Do You See Me Now?
Lately, every hike I take along the water leads to swans. One evening a young swan posed for me like a practiced yogi. After every position, she looked directly at me as if to ask, “Do you see me?”
Photographing the playful swan was delightful, and led me to wonder how we might encourage the unique expression of life in our human children.
Here we are thinking of ourselves as highly evolved, yet we use the same punishment we did as hunter-gatherers. “Bad behavior” resulted in shunning, and when the tribe moved on, the shunned were left behind.
It was a death sentence.
We’re shunning many of our children because they’re different. They’re not all quarterbacks and cheerleaders. We leave them behind, and they are dying because of our myopia.
I believe now is the time to view our children's education through a new filter. One that teaches them to fall in love with their uniqueness, celebrate each other’s, and form an emotionally healthy community in every neighborhood.
Not all little boys want to rope bulls
Many years ago, I joined a fundraising effort in a rural Idaho town to bring Missoula Children’s Theater to our elementary school. For a week, the artists, children, and teachers spent the entire school day preparing for a community performance.
Before the curtain went up on Friday night, the chili supper sold out. The tiny auditorium overflowed with three and four generations of family members. Backstage, nervous giggling erupted.
But not all parents agreed with art in education and a week of “missed” learning. One of the most vocal parents informed me his son had 4-H, riding, and roping. The boy didn’t need art. He needed “real-life values.”
A few months later, I bumped into the father at the gas station. Surprisingly, he thanked me. Before the children’s theater came to town, his son hated school and presented behavioral problems. After the theater experience, his 10-year-old loved school. The boy had discovered his gift for computer graphics and looked forward to classes with the artist in residence we hired for weekly workshops.
This boy was one of many success stories of the children in our small town who received a new view of the world and their place in it.
The same rural school took the children skiing once a week all winter. The community gathered in the cafeteria regularly for potlucks and bingo to fund the ski trips. Business owners and individuals provided the prizes. To support art in the school, a large group of volunteers organized an art show in the park every summer. And like me, many folks didn’t even have children in school.
We didn’t all go to the same church or vote for the same political party. Some of us didn’t even like each other much. But we valued children more than our personal opinions.
Seeing the neighborhood school as the heart of a community
I am not an educator, but I am a mother and a grandmother who knows when children feel seen for who they are on the inside, they’re happy little dreamers on the outside. Too happy to hurt themselves or others.
We have everything we need to see each child‘s unique gifts and teach them they were born with unlimited possibilities. Every community has a school. Every town has a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker who can volunteer a few hours and a few bingo prizes.
Each one of us can serve our community locally by making our neighborhood schools the heart of a healthy society. Like little Switzerlands from sea to shining sea.
Let’s not wait for the government to fix our societal failure. Our “leaders” are too busy on the campaign trail, pointing the finger of blame at the other side. Instead, why not organize in the community, break bread together, and play a little bingo?
If a poor country town of fewer than 500 people can come together to make a difference in children’s lives, any neighborhood can.
Thanks for walking with me,
Kris
