Friday, July 18, 2014

Treating the Symptoms and Hurting the Children

Our lawmakers struggle with many issues. On the news, there are debates about countless issues that are unarguably important.  In private conversations, on social media, and over coffee and drinks, we complain and play armchair president. If only they did this. How could they do that? The answer is so clear, why can’t others see it?

The more I listen, the more I come to one conclusion: underlying almost all of our country’s difficulties is one issue that we want to avoid. Perhaps because it is too large or it is so wrapped up with key American values, we are willing to focus on the symptoms and don’t face the disease.

Whether you love or hate the new affordable healthcare act, often called “Obamacare,” we will all agree that there were and still are issues with the way we structure healthcare. The cost is problematic for almost everyone. Access to healthcare is another piece of this problem. If many in our society do not get adequate healthcare, there are ramifications for all of us. Many will argue with the solution, but can you argue that there is a problem?

We are testing our students to death. Our means of solving a supposed crisis in education is to invent more achievement vehicles. We wring our hands about teacher accountability, tenure, standards, our world standing, and other issues. These are important concerns. However, consistently some schools succeed and others struggle. We know why. It is highly predictable.

We talk about guns, but only some of us face daily violence in our streets and neighborhoods. Tougher laws and penalties, but not stricter gun regulations, have negligible effects. We turn to our criminal justice system, pass unforgiving laws, and put more and more people in prison. In some places, everyone knows a person behind bars. In other places, it is merely a topic of theoretical speculation.

Why do we worry about illegal immigrants coming into our country? They certainly use our schools, jails, and appear in our emergency rooms and doctors’ offices. Is that the real reason? We employ them to do tasks that we either don’t want to do or which we can pay an illegal wage for them to do. They are second-class non-citizens.

An unwanted pregnancy is a difficult problem. However, it is not the same problem for everyone. For some, it is a medical issue. For others, it is a moral question. For some, it is a choice, and for others, it is another mouth to feed. We can argue about abortion rights or wrongs, but is there anyone who would want children to go hungry?

Should these children be blamed for their parents’ situations? What happens when they go to school? What happens when they get sick? Might they be angry at the cards they have been unfairly dealt? What opportunities will they have? Is the system rigged against them?

Underneath most of the problems that plague us is the same issue: poverty. It is the problem we refuse to face. Americans are all about self-reliance. We begrudge drowning people even a simple life preserver. For many, the poor live far away in both distance and mind. They are theoretical and hypothetical; a subject of debate and discussion more than real people struggling to take care of their children.

Yet, most of the items on our public agenda are closely connected to poverty. Why are avoiding that fact? By addressing poverty, we would also address healthcare, education, immigration, violence, abortion, and many other social issues. But we don’t do that.

It is not an easy task, but we need to stop the bickering, dickering, and delaying. We need to say to our legislators: Take care of the children, and end poverty.


That is the key: Take care of the children, and end poverty. The rest is commentary.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

The Push and Pull of Parenting

I have to fight the desire to keep my family in the house and by my side all the time. While the rational side of me knows that my children must be allowed to drive the car, socialize with their friends, and travel overseas, the irrational side of me keeps asking, “what if…?” That irrational side thinks that I must be near them or the horrible “what if” scenarios might come true.

It was wonderful to see my son after he returned from a three-week trip to France. I  missed him. I hadn’t worried much, but now that he was back, I was keenly aware of avoided peril.  After we got home from the airport, he came into my room, where I was reading, and sat down next to me. Soon, since he had been on a plane all day and was seven hours ahead of us, he fell asleep on me. My teenager hasn’t fallen asleep on me since he was a toddler, but there we were.

I didn’t wake him. I didn’t want to. I had been anticipating his return, but now I was even more aware of his vulnerability and frailty. For those few minutes, I wanted to keep him a sleeping child by my side forever. For a little while, I savored being his protector.

But it is an illusion. It is a beautiful illusion that fills me with a joy so powerful, I feel as though I may burst. Yet even as I am aware of my desire to wrap my child in my arms and hold him there forever, I know that doesn’t stop bad things from happening.  I know that I cannot protect him, even as he sleeps by my side. I know that pain and problems are inevitable – and important, and he will not be a fully mature person until he is able to cope with them.

And I don’t want to face that. I want to believe that I have the power to keep my sleeping child from ever confronting the many issues that would break our hearts. He is dreaming, and I am fighting my desire to take up residence in a dream world.

We can talk about resilience. We can extol the virtues of failure and freedom. Yet I would wager that every parent has consciously fought the overprotecting instinct. It is an important and difficult battle. My child may be driving the car, shopping for colleges, and shaving his chin, but I still want to believe that I am his barrier from all that might hurt him. I never have been. I never will be. But I want to be.

I fully understand why some parents call too often, do too much, and hover like the cliché helicopter.

That is the push and pull of parenting. I don’t want to back so far away that I become a distant figure. I don’t want to wrap him in layers of protection so that he can’t feel anything. I don’t want to smother and direct and therefore rob him of independence and agency.

Yet, I don’t want to feel the pain of his pain. Ultimately, I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to let either of us do anything that would separate us. Yet, we are separate. He will go to Europe. He will go to college. He will get in the car and drive away.

And I will be anxiously awaiting his return.