You will NOT shoot your eye out...

To further illustrate a different aspect of my point, let me describe a situation that happened at my house recently.  It was a Saturday afternoon.  The weather was cool and clear.  I was sitting alone in the family room watching something on TV.  My two sons (ages 11 and 9) came downstairs from their rooms and walked passed me and through the door leading into the garage.  I didn’t think anything of it, except that I heard some sounds of rummaging.  Unfortunately, that’s not as uncommon as I’d like since I generally am terrible at keeping the garage (and other areas of the house) as organized as they should be.  After several minutes the boys emerged from the garage and went passed me again.  This time they were headed into the back yard.  Pretty mundane to this point, other than that they were each carrying a bow and several arrows.  They may have motioned to me on their way outside, but I don’t remember.  And I watched them leave but words were not exchanged. 

Not a minute later, my younger son came back inside and asked if we had an empty box.  Ebay had been slow, so I actually did have some empty shipping boxes lying around.  I mentioned there should be a couple on a shelf in the basement.   He trundled down the steps and came back quickly, dragging a large box behind him.  Soon after, the older one came in and dug through a drawer in the kitchen until he found something and went back outside.  I learned later that he was looking for a Sharpie. 

Of course, you know where this is all going.  The boys decided to take some target practice.  They found their bows and arrows, found a suitable target and drew a picture on the box that made it a little more interesting at which to shoot.  What many of you are gasping at, I’m sure, is the fact that I didn’t go with them, discuss at length the dangers of firing a weapon in the back yard, or at least ask them what they were up to.  Well boo hoo, I say.

The boys had received these implements of death as presents from their grandfather for their last birthdays.  They were, of course, excited to get such a wondrous thing.  It was something that shot a non-nerf tipped projectile.  Something that was real.  Something that they had never handled before.  Something that’s use had consequences.  Of course, they didn’t think about it so deeply.  Or maybe they did, but we only saw open mouths and smiles as they opened the packaging and rushed outside. 

At the first firing (and the next) I was with them.  There does need to be some explanation of such things.  How to knock the arrow properly, how to draw the bow, how to sight it, how to fire all come to mind.  But also, common sense and safety are the most important things.  AHA!!  You didn’t think I was going there, did you?  Well, I am not a buffoon.  We do need to lay the groundwork for some things for our kids.  We need to give them the skills needed to integrate knowledge of one thing into other areas of their lives.  Not shooting at your brother (or any other living thing) is one of those things. 

Now, all you hunters out there just bite your tongues.  This is not that forum.  But I will be relating that to something else later, so just be patient. 

Having them understand the gravity of what they were about to do was paramount in that situation.  But just as vital, was that they should understand that this wasn’t something that was beyond them.  There is no need to be paralyzed by trying something new.  And once I, as a parent, was at least moderately sure that they understood the lesson I wanted to impart, I stepped back a bit and let them have at it.  To be sure, I hung out with them and we all took turns shooting.  And I do still to this day because, let’s face it, shooting a bow and arrow can really be a lot of fun.  But I do not always have to be with them when they do it.  They were given the information they needed, and honestly I still hope it was enough.  They took a lot of care to begin with and grew comfortable with it.  They are still careful, but they grew into the activity and developed their own boundaries within the scope that I laid for them in those early sessions.

Back to that day they went passed me on the couch in silence.  Did I peek a couple times to see how they were doing?  Sure I did.  But it was as much out of curiosity of how their skill had progressed as anything else.  Were they doing anything they shouldn’t have?  Well, maybe.  I noticed at one point they were in their tree house, shooting across the yard at that box.  I had the urge to bark at them to get down.  I thought better of it, I think it was better.  I watched for several minutes in silence.  They were applying whatever I had taught them….don’t shoot at someone, the non-shooter should be behind the shooter, one arrow at a time, etc.  While I didn’t love what they were doing, other than to arbitrarily exert my parental muscle I could see no reason to stop them.  So I let them go.  I trusted that they would make good decisions.  I let them explore a new situation on their own.  And I have since seen evidence that this has aided them in dealing with their world.

Beginning of the End

I see children all around me, whether they are relatives, friends or just passersby, that are being treated as if they are inherently lesser beings.  Like they are made of more fragile stuff than we are (please don’t tell me about kids being more physically fragile than adults….you know what I mean.)  Like they are somehow mentally incompetent to the point of being unable to handle the most basic instruction.  Like they need such overarching parental or societal attention for every nanosecond of their day.   I may be overstating my point here, but I don’t think so. 

We are turning the youngest generation into things that may not be properly matured until it is way too late.  Don’t get me wrong.  I actually want my kids to be a little naïve as long as possible.   Having that wide-eyed marvel about the world in general can be a fascinating time in a child’s life.  However, this only pertains to things like Christmas, and war, and a select group of ideals that preserve childlike wonder that can be lost too early if not treated with care. 

Parents tend to dictate every instant of their kids lives.  More and more, they are inserting themselves into situations that normally would offer a young person a chance to grow and learn.  Even little things are being taken away.  When was the last time the kids in a neighborhood got together to play ball without adult supervision or organization?  When was the last time even the tiniest conflict between kids was left for the kids to settle?  When was the last time your kid left the yard (even with your knowledge…I’m not a total loon) without you?  When was the last time your kid tried something even slightly dangerous without your help or guidance?  All these questions could be answered with caveats that justify a parents involvement, and that’s OK.  But really think about those caveats.  Some are justifiable, but for the most part, the answers will be more about the parents and our invalid preconceived notions about what kids can handle.

All this is contributing to the wussification of America from the ground up.  We are raising little weaklings.  We don’t realize we’re doing it, of course, but it’s there and in force.   If the trend continues we’ll have a country full of college students living at home just because mom and dad need to keep tabs on them and direct their day to day lives.  God forbid they go off to class without a proper lunch packed or their mittens attached to coat sleeves.

How can one man be so bitter, so uncaring toward our dear sweet innocent kids?  Well, let me tell you.  First, I love my kids, and their friends, and I believe for the most part they are good little people.  However, I constantly see the way some folks treat their kids and it makes me grind my teeth.

Recently I was driving to work and was stuck behind a school bus.  Intrinsically, that doesn’t bother me.  It’s just one expected traffic woe that won’t be going away any time soon.  As I was putting along behind this bus, it inevitably made several stops.  As we got close to one particular corner, the bus’ lights started flashing and we slowed to a stop.  I looked ahead and noticed that there were no children waiting for this bus and I thought that was a little strange.  There were several cars sitting there, and I thought that was a little stranger.  Then suddenly the doors of all five – FIVE! – car’s popped open and one child from each hopped out and walked onto their school bus and we all went on our merry way.  It was a nice sunny morning and I couldn’t for the life of me figure why they might all have been driven to the bus stop.  “Oh well,” I thought.  “whatever.”

That “whatever” turned to complete puzzlement when the exact same thing happened at the very next corner, which for the record was maybe one hundred yards away.  Thankfully, the bus turned right at the next street, and I went left toward my office.  But I had time for this to stew a bit.  So, ten children had been driven to their bus stop and sat in their parent’s cars while waiting for the bus.  These weren’t infants, to be sure.  From the looks of them, they ranged in age from eight to twelve.  The weather was clear and warm, and yet for a reason I hadn’t reached at the time, they couldn’t, wouldn’t, or didn’t walk to the bus stop that morning.  I don’t leave for work at the exact same time every morning, so I can’t say for certain that this happens every day…but let’s face it.  There’s a pretty good chance, isn’t there?

Are you kidding me?  Have we become so controlling that we can’t even let our kids walk to the bus stop?  Are we incapable of trusting them, and in so, incapable of trusting in our ability as parents?  Back in the day (don’t you hate that saying) we would stroll down to wait for the bus with sometimes nary a wave to mom.  Not out of disrespect, but simply because it was time to go to school, and everyone in the house knew it.  We’d go hang out with friends, play a game, or just chat…and guess what?  WITHOUT OUR PARENTS!  The horror. 

I’m not putting this all on the parents.  But what a small child does and how it approaches a situation is basically derived from Mom and Dad.  So it may have been that the kids wanted to be driven to the bus stop, or that they never even thought to actually walk there.  However, even if that is the case, I’m still looking at the parents. Because without them, their kids wouldn’t realize that they’re lazy, meek, and/or socially stunted.

Yes, yes, I will now hear the argument that today’s world is more dangerous and more corrupt than it used to be.  I’m not naïve enough to not see that, but I acquiesce to only a small extent.  But let’s face it.  Deep dark Turnersville, New Jersey is not exactly a demilitarized zone.  Sadly, there are places that have become so, and if you live in one of these areas, then please forgive the assumption.  For the other 99% of you…pay attention.  There are dangers for our kids, always have been, and always will be.  But unless you are part of that 1% above, get off your kids back a little and let them stretch their wings.  Encourage them to stretch their wings.

Back to my ranting.  Driving your kids to a bus stop in your idyllic suburban subdivision?  Really?  It’s a shame to have lost, or never had any faith that your kids can handle something so simple.  Or is it that you no faith in yourself as a parent and haven’t prepared them?  Either way, how sad for the kids.

Some folks will bring up the question of whether it’s more of a case of us babying our kids too much, or that they truly can’t handle the real world, or some other as yet uncovered reason.  Actually, I do know.  I believe that parents need to get out of the way.  We don’t let our kids be kids on their own terms any more.  We dictate how to be a kid.  Of course, being parents we’re supposed to dictate certain things.  But remember, you are an adult.  You don't know how to be a kid any more.  Leave it to the experts, and step back to your better suited role as traffic cop.

The Wussification of America

As I get older I see a disturbing trend in myself.  That is to put things in the context of “when I was a kid.”  It’s scary to think that I’ve gotten to the point that every twenty-something swears they will never reach.  Growing up, we all figure we’ll be cooler than the old fogies we see on a daily basis.  And maybe we are.  But that doesn’t stop us from seeing the younger generation in a light that isn’t always flattering.  We (and I use the royal “we” here) are constantly looking back and seeing how the kids we used to be are somehow different, lesser beings than expected.  It’s a tendency that I recognize in myself; but that does not dismiss the fact that I think I’m on the right side of something that, in all likelihood, may not get better any time soon....

This shall be your fountain and repository of things that will probably makes you shake your head and tsk-tsk me.  That doesn't mean I'm not right.  And it doesn't mean you don't agree.  You just won't admit it yet.  So whenever you need a shot of good ol' Ralston-speak, check in and enjoy.