If you’ve ever lived in a city, you know there are certain unspoken rules of operation for things like revolving doors. For example, partitioned revolving doors are not meant to be shared (even during rush hours) rather they are meant to spin continuously in order to allow as many people in and out as needed during busy times. Emily Post has written up some specific rules of etiquette about the use of revolving doors (see: http://www.etiquettedaily.com/2009/05/revolving-door-who-goes-first-2/) which seem to have something to do with men and women and upper body strength. But I’m not really headed in that direction. I’m really headed in the direction of way-finding.
Generally speaking, city living teaches you about making your own space because there is so little to go around. A city demands that you find your own way. Although nature seems to get all the attention in terms of educating our children, I think there’s something to be learned from our cities. (A few important lessons come to mind: Don’t make eye contact with a homeless person unless you feel like chatting or opening your wallet. Don’t wait until you’re first in line at Dunkin’ Donuts to order; shout over the heads of the three people in front of you when the lady in the purple and orange hat calls out, “What can I get you?” Don’t hesitate to hold up traffic while parallel parking on a busy street. Damn it – that spot it yours!)
In my current life of overgrown lawn/corporate office edu-job I think about the real urban education I want for my kids. As a Midwestern-born suburbanite who couldn’t wait to get out of town and move to a big city (romantic and naive as it now seems to have done so at age 19, and again at 22) I am troubled by my children’s upbringing in a place so lacking in diversity. Living in New Hampshire, I find my children responding to “difference” as well, “different.” And this bothers me. What’s so wrong with difference anyway? How many parents have likewise taken the approach of, “Yes, you’re right. He is tall/short/fat/thin/different. And isn’t that amazing that there are so many different kinds of people in the world!” Because that is what I have done with my children – in the grocery store, at the gas station, at the playground often in loud tones so as to soften the very direct statement my little one has just made.
But back to way-finding– what do my kids really need to know in order to lead happy, productive lives? Is there some preferred distribution of rural and urban skills similar to fund selections for your 401(k)? Let’s see, we’ll do 35% Suburban Sidewalk Skills, 25% Urban Dwelling, and 40% Rural/Outdoor Education. Do class field trips to an apple orchard, or planting a tree in the yard count for Rural/Outdoor and/or Suburban Sidewalk? At what point does Urban Dwelling become possible, age 18? Does a trip to the New England Aquarium count as partial credit toward the Urban Dwelling category? What I do know is that I want my kids to participate in as much as I can make possible, and find time for— baseball leagues, summer camps, Saturday pancake-making, scooters up and down, and up and down the sidewalk, walks around the block, trips to Boston, or Manchester, or Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
My youngest will be turning one in another month, and I’ve been trying to grab at every moment I can with her, my last baby. What will she want out of life? Where will she go? How will I help her get there? A wise old person once told me that as parents, the best we can do is to give our children a compass, and point them north. I want to tell him what great advice it was, and how hard it is to do every day when the world is spinning past with so many complicated and often unspoken rules to consider.
In order to offset the sameness pervading our little town I take the kids to the Asian market in Allston, involve them in choosing recipients for microloans through kiva.org and choose swim lessons at the "urban" YMCA over those at the equidistant chi-chi suburban Y... So how many points do you suppose I lose for taking them to uber-conformist Disney parks for the third summer in a row?
ReplyDeleteChris's mother married a black man from deep inside of Lansing. They live in TC now and the boys see them a few times a week. They have never said anything about his skin color. They know he's black, they make Mii's who are all shades possible (some with blonde hair), but they've never said a word about Grandpa Gary. I don't know if it's because they pick up on race as a "subject people don't talk about" or if they just see him as Grandpa and that's all. I'd like to think that they are learning that skin color can make a difference, but it doesn't mean anyone's different. Gary has often said that he feels like "a fly in a bowl of buttermilk."
ReplyDeleteAlso, my big storrytelling lesson of the year is about revolving doors - how characters walk down the sidewalk (exposition), enter the door and start spinning (rising action), then get spit out the other side as a new kind of person (climax and resolution). I like your analogy too.