Are We Giving Our Kids Calloused Hearts?
"Everybody—sooner or later—sits down to a banquet of consequences."
– Robert Louis Stevenson
On a sunny afternoon in April 1999, I walked out the door ahead of the students to say hello to parents gathered in the parking area beside the school. Inside the school, the children collected their belongings and prepared to head home.
As I walked down the entry ramp and out into the sun, a mother met me and asked with an unsteady voice, "Did you hear what happened at that high school near Denver?"
Shock and disbelief reverberated in her voice. I knew intuitively that whatever she was referring to, it must have been tragic. I shook my head and retreated inside. I couldn’t bear to hear anything about the "newest" disaster raging in the nation. I did not want to face the surreal agony that must have been gripping another community. I knew I could not possibly discuss this appalling news with a child nearby.
That night, the radio airwaves were filled with news of Littleton.
For the next week, the children and I said nothing about the tragedy. In my community, I held the highest respect for parents' ability to discuss topics of this nature with their children. Had a student asked a sincere question about the tragedy, I would have responded; however, none did.
The reader may find this incomprehensible or even irresponsible, but that is how we conducted ourselves. In school, we placed no focus on the event. In my rural community, few of the children possessed TVs capable of transmitting "the news," and as a teacher, I didn't want to add energy to such a dreadfully horrifying, catastrophically grotesque event. The only antidote for such a calamity was to put our best foot forward in our own lives—to keep doing our best with one another.
In the years since the Columbine High School shooting, the problem has only worsened. Today, desperately isolated youths and developmentally maladjusted adults heap the nation's banquet table with incessant outbursts of angst, anger, and violence.
There is a reason the table is covered with such appalling fare: America suffers from too many years of inorganic child-rearing. Too many adults have abandoned the needs of childhood for too long.
Watch TV, listen to the radio, read the headlines; evaluate the offerings of digital media. Ponder what you see, hear, and read.
Does it elevate or denigrate? Does it encourage nobility or nihilism? Can any child make sense of the endlessly terrible tales the media offers? Can any of us? Too many children are abandoned to feed on a garbage heap filled with incomprehensibly tragic events. All of us share the consequence of a culture that subsists on this disastrous diet.
Does anyone really believe that the fodder of screened programming and mass media benefits the minds and bodies of children? Does anyone really think the developmental needs of children are nurtured as they sit before the legions of digital screens available to them?
Children will, out of necessity, build a callus to protect their vulnerable souls as they feed on a menu of mayhem. In short, they become hardened. They do so in an attempt to defend themselves—to shield themselves from becoming desperately injured.
Children construct these self-protection systems because too many adults don't possess the common sense or the willpower to protect them from influences that violate the nature of childhood.
Children who build calluses for their souls may succeed in superficially protecting themselves from destructive influences; however, the same calluses that protect can become impediments, thwarting the ability to absorb that which is good. Children who haven't experienced healthy, developmentally appropriate activities or positive human relationships are susceptible to estrangement from family, friends, and society. Where does this alienation lead? Only tragedy.
Children are too often left to feed from a trough of tribulation. Is it any wonder that so many children become cold, numb—eventually inhuman? Is it any wonder that we experience such extreme acts of violence?
It is far past time for us to think differently about children. We cannot continue to abandon the nourishment of warm human contact for the trite, depressive fare of screened programming and expect our children to represent the best humanity can achieve. We cannot expect children to become energetic and hopeful adults if they feed upon such gruesome gruel.
Watch the same screens that your children do. Watch the news and the sitcoms. Watch the movies. Watch the fast-paced games. Watch computer programs jump and explode at a frantic pace. Watch all this and ask, "Is this the menu I desire for my children?"
If not, then wean yourself and the children in your care from the addiction to glowing screens. Offer them something substantial, personal, and humanly warm. It is time to rediscover the cultural necessity of loving human interaction. We must rediscover the organic needs of childhood if our future is to be collectively hopeful.
The future is formed by the decisions you make today. Whether you recognize the sacred responsibility of raising children or not, it is a fact: "Everyone—sooner or later—sits down to a banquet of consequences."
