All the mighty rivers of the world, from the Amazon to the Congo to the Nile, come from humble beginnings. A modest web of headwaters combines sequentially to form a communal vessel which quite literally allows life for millions of living creatures.
Similarly, each of our individual lives gathers with countless others to form tribes and towns and civilizations. And several small encounters the past few days have left me wondering exactly where our American river is headed.
A couple evenings ago I attended a meeting at school, designed to instruct parents on how to best equip their kids on making the 'transition' to high school. But of course, you can no longer talk about high school without simultaneously talking about college, and the strategies required to navigate your own student into the 'right' school. Throughout the formal presentation, there was one mother who could not help gesturing and chuckling and commenting out loud to indicate to all of us less worthy attendees that she really understood how the system worked. And of course, when the call came for questions, her hand was the first in the air.
"I really find it painful even asking this," she began. But of course, she mustered the resolve to go on. "But is Ms. ______ still the only one teaching that Honors Social Studies class?" She was informed that yes, as the person with seniority in that discipline, and having taught it for a decade, she was the one. "Oh", she responded, with a sorrowful look on her face. "That's a shame".
As she intended, the other parents were now aghast. Whatever did she mean? She forced herself to go on and explained that when her older son was in that class with that teacher, he found it so disagreeable that, "we had to pull him out of school altogether--he just couldn't go on. We had no choice but to home school him for the rest of that year".
Instantly, the room was a wasteland of shattered college dreams, this crone most had never heard of a minute earlier, suddenly threatening the grade point averages the parents so zealously coveted. Now, I don't know--maybe this teacher was terrible. But a second mother offered that her older daughter also took the same class, "and she didn't have any problems at all". But no matter, by that time the damage was done. A teacher who, no matter what her proficiency...who had devoted her career to teaching young people...who somehow wound up teaching the single honors class in a discipline...who, it was later revealed, adhered to perhaps a 'too rigorous' style of teaching...was now trashed behind her back. Forty people who could not identify her by sight--now feared her by name. I was informed later that the Mother who raised the calumny in the first place refers to the son in question as a certified genius. And that's not a euphemism--she really calls him 'a certified genius'.
Maybe grades are a little easier to come by if you're home schooled.
Then yesterday I ventured into downtown Bellevue, the spiritual and commercial center of what's referred to in the Seattle area as the Eastside. To Chicagoans, this is the equivalent of the North Shore. It's where you live if you need to display your excessive wealth. Bill Gates and Steve Ballmer, the twin terrors of Microsoft, live in a subsidiary of Bellevue, a short distance apart. (In fairness, it must be said that Bellevue is large enough that it is multi-racial, multi-cultural and multi-class--although the people in the neighborhoods I'm referring to seldom risk rubbing elbows with any but their own kind). Anyway, I'm driving into the hub of downtown Bellevue when a big, black SUV in front of me suddenly slams on its brakes and swerves dangerously into the entrance to a parking lot. No slowdown, no turn signal. I was not close enough to hit it, but I was curious, so I looked back. Sure enough, a bleach blonde with a cellphone slapped up against her ear. When you're driving one handed, I guess you have to make a choice between holding on to the wheel or hitting the turn signal stalk.
A little while later I'm walking out of a store. Right across the drive, 30 feet away, there is ample parking. But there are also a few spots directly in front of the store, a few steps closer. Two for handicapped parking, and two clearly marked 'load/unload only'. As I'm walking off the curb I'm almost run over by an even bigger black SUV screeching into one of the load/unload spots, and sure enough, out pops another young blond, laughing, with her cellphone at the ear. I saw her look directly at the 'load/unload' sign and amble into the store.
I know I'm getting crotchety, but I couldn't help it. I sat in my car for five minutes to see if she'd come out with her 'load'...and then walked back into the store. I just had to know. And sure enough, there she was, pushing an empty shopping cart, still talking on the phone, walking up and down the aisles looking for something she might want to buy. Nothing to load yet. Nothing really to do but talk on the phone. But obviously secure in the knowledge that those parking restrictions were really intended for people less worthy than she.
OK, one more quick Bellevue story. At one high school in the district (one in which members of various economic classes actually do attend), the cheerleading squad (not surprisingly nor atypically) is composed of girls from the 'best' families. The parents of one of the cheerleaders decide the stress in their lives is too much, so they plan a quick trip down to Mexico to relax. Originally, the cheerleader daughter was going to stay in school while they were gone, so she quickly does what any red-blooded American teen would do--announces a party at her house one day as soon as school is over. But then something happens and she decides to go to Mexico with her folks, so the party is called off.
Except that it wasn't. Other cheerleaders physically break into the house and hold the party, generally trash the place with dozens of friends, and leave evidence of what happened in the form of empty liquor bottles, the residue of certain controlled substances, and, it is said, video camera equipment in one of the bedrooms. Say what you will about the behavior inside, there is no question about the process of
getting inside--it's a crime.
The parents return. They're livid. The school is notified. The police are notified. Punishments are assembled.
But suddenly, while suspensions are handed down, the criminal investigation disappears. Why? Well, the parents, facing the pleadings of their daughter, refuse to press charges. Yes, breaking and entering is bad. But as their precious cheerleader explained, having her fellow cheerleaders mad at her would be even worse. So the pampered perps walk.
The reason for bringing all this up is the release of a study today by a group in England reporting on the 'state' of raising children in the 21 richest countries in the world. Of that group, the U.S. ranks 20th--with only Great Britain doing a worse job.
Yes, the methodology is somewhat controversial, including not only the obvious things like health and disease and substance abuse, but also the number of single-parent homes, and the number of dinners per week consumed as a family. But according to the researchers, beyond all the findings, the single largest underlying determinant of a society's success in raising its children is the disparity of wealth. The further the rich and poor diverge, the more likely even the 'best' kids will suffer.
So, collectively we may stand on the banks and lament the pollution in our mighty national river. But I wonder if we could understand the problem better by working our way back upstream...up to the headwaters...up to the tributaries that flow from even the 'best' homes. If you are too ready to blame a teacher for your student's problems...too comfortable with breaking the rules that are meant for 'others'...too ready to sacrifice the rule of law for the social status of your little cheerleader...might it be that the problems begin with you?
diderot
