Political Tuesdays: Child Activists and the Adult in the Room

You've all seen it. A Swedish teenager, whom I won't name because I believe excessive media attention does terrible things to children, impassioned and outraged about climate change, scolding the adults she thinks have failed her and stolen her childhood: "How dare you?!"

The adults in her life have failed her, but perhaps not in the way she thinks. Her parents and other activists who have promoted her as the face of climate change have ignored her underlying needs for something much more basic: unconditional love in a safe environment. Don't get me wrong, I firmly believe all humans, including the disabled, have the right to think, believe, and say what they wish. And she is sincere in her beliefs, and she has a right to express them. It doesn't have to be pretty. It also shouldn't be so public.

This girl has many serious diagnoses: Autism/Asberger's, OCD, anxiety, depression, selective mutism. Any one of these would seem to indicate caution in use of social media and exposure to large crowds and intense pressure. Together in the persona of a teenage girl who, in her own words, is not mature yet, they create the perfect storm. Her speech yesterday, in a foreign country and foreign language, was terribly painful to watch for anyone who loves someone with these conditions. She has been suddenly catapulted to fame and prominence by activists who set her schedule and control her public persona, and are happy for their cause to profit from her angst. Her face was contorted, she was gasping between phrases. Her psychic pain was obvious, and for adults to use it for political advantage is unconscionable. That wasn't the impassioned wisdom of a child grieving for the future of the world; that was a panic attack, a highly publicized meltdown which will, unfortunately, typecast her forever. How will she be able to bear watching video footage of herself? How could anyone with intense social anxiety? Her parents and handlers seem to want to create a patron saint for the environmentalist movement, but I fear they have created a martyr. "How dare you?! indeed.

Her treatment has been rightly characterized as child abuse, in my opinion. It's exploitative, designed to manipulate public opinion. And when the climate justice warriors have moved on to another short-term celebrity, she has to continue to grow up and find her place in a world she has been taught she can't trust. Michael Knowles was criticized for calling her "mentally ill," but aren't we supposed to be removing the stigma around mental health issues these days? Still, focusing more negative  attention on her is not healthy. Somebody, somewhere, needs to get her a glass of lemonade, some cookies and a quiet, cool, dim room where she can listen to Mozart or whatever makes her happy. That's the question. Does anything make her happy? Maybe a positive affirmation or two that is not predicated on the end of the world. She did get one, from perhaps an unexpected source:

"She seems like a very happy young girl looking forward to a bright and wonderful future. So nice to see!" (Donald Trump's tweet)

This also caused outrage in the media. They assumed he was speaking ironically and intended this as a mockery. But remembering that irony is not always understood by those with autism, or by young children, I'm not so sure. Sometimes, if you tell someone she seems happy and has a wonderful future, she will be that way. It has the virtue of not having been tried yet. I hope it works.

Randomday: the Post-apocalyptic Edition

I always want to spell "apocalypse" with two o's, and then it never looks right.  I'm glad we have Google these days.  Note to self -- two a's.

How do you celebrate the end of the world?  In our house, we let our teenage sons have a sleepover party, and then you'd never know the difference.  I counted ten total... four sets of brothers (including ours) and two singles.  Four college boys and 6 high-schoolers ranging from 10th-12th grades.  The menu: 7 boxes of Little Caesar's pizza (1 Hawaiian, 2 Supreme, 2 3-meat, 2 pepperoni), orange soda, caffeine-free Pepsi, diet Pepsi (you could have caffeine or sugar, but not both at the same time) and various other sodas.  A veggie tray - everything but the tomatoes got eaten.  And bean dip (1 large can refried beans, a packet of prefab guacamole, hot salsa, sour cream, shredded cheese, sliced olives, green onions, tomatoes in that order).  And two pans of brownies.  The entertainment: first season of Chuck, and various video games.  I think every quilt in the linen cupboard got used.  This morning Steve made a quadruple recipe of pancakes and three packages of bacon.  I'm pretty sure there wasn't enough bacon, but is there ever?  The recycling bin is more than half full just with pizza boxes and soda cans.

The sharp-eyed will note that the purple quilt is still on the machine, but it should come off today.  I had good intentions of finishing the binding of Jack's Chain last night while watching Jane Austen, but instead I made progress on grading while watching "Aisha," a Bollywood musical contemporary version of "Emma."  It was in Hindi with subtitles, but apparently there is quite a bit of English mixed in with modern Hindi.

Daniel's flight home Wednesday was delayed in Chicago and again in Denver, but he did manage to get home nearly 2 hours after originally scheduled, early Thursday morning.  It's great to have him back for the next weeks.

I've been experimenting with Pandora stations the last few days.  I've developed a mix of stations for Christmas music that I like to shuffle: Enya, Sufjan Stevens, Gregorian, Anuna, Celtic Woman, and Straight No Chaser.  I thought it had just the right mix of classical and contemporary.  But Secundus derided Enya as "old lady music." Hmph.

We've reached the point in Christmas preparations where we know it's inevitably going to happen, and I (for one) know it's not going to be perfect, but have ceased to care much.  We have to fit in a showing of The Hobbit sometime soon, and I am determined to make fudge and more Christmas cookies, but it is so nice not to have other deadlines looming.

Sixth Grade

Source: pmmoncada.blogspot.com via Katherine on Pinterest

Sometime in late January, I dashed through the rain carrying my Latin basket, elbowed open the door of the G4 classroom, lugged myself and my gear inside, and breathed deeply. And then I noticed it.  The unmistakable smell of pre-teens who should start making daily showers a priority.  It had not been there the day before, but it was showing up, right on schedule.  Maybe a little later than usual, if my 12 years of teaching are any guide.

I have a special interest in this year's 6th grade class, because it's the one my own daughter would have been in, if she had been admitted to Cedar Tree.  But... well, that's a battle for another generation.  I have to say a profound Thank You to the teachers in the "godless" public schools, who have made her experience there so positive that I doubt I'd enroll her in a Christian school now even if I could.  And you have to know me, but that's saying something.

In my daily classes, I can't help but feel a little like the cobbler whose children have no shoes.  Especially in 6th grade - "Grammar 4."  These kids are so smart.  They have parents who love them enough to take great care and expense over their education.  But they are the most challenging class I've ever had.  For one thing, they are the largest class I've ever had: we started off the year with 18 kids.  We've lost three through the year, but at 15 they still tie the largest class I ever had before them, last year's 6th grade class.  And ... how to say this ... they constantly push me to wrestle with the issue of educational equity.  If my daughter, the one with Down syndrome, can't be in this class, it's hard to muster a lot of sympathy for the failing child who can't be bothered to study vocabulary cards or turn in homework.  It's hard to be patient when they start chattering and giggling - loudly - the instant I turn to write on the board.  And it's hard not to resent the expectations from some parents and students who think I should drop everything and be extremely responsive to a concern about, say, homework load... when the requests come at all hours, they presumably want the quality of the education to stay high, and I'm certainly not getting rich teaching 3 classes every day (my take-home pay, after tuition for my three "normal" kids, is enough to cover gas money for the month and not much more.  And I have absolutely no one to complain to about my own homework load).  I'm not saying that I'm right to be resentful, but I would sure appreciate not having quite so many opportunities to struggle with that besetting sin.

This year's 6th grade class seems extra young to me.  Last year's 6th grade class was the opposite, and I had very little time to enjoy them as children before they were all acting like teenagers, really obnoxious teenagers.  (They are so much better this year as 7th graders.  They've grown into their attitudes a bit.)  But with this year's 6th grade it's a much slower transition.  They need extra care and repetition and there are still quite a few who don't get it, or see why it matters.  Reliably there are about 3 or 4 students who get As on quizzes, but not so many A+s as there are in my other classes.  And there are a rather frightening number of them who fail quizzes, sometimes spectacularly.  I can always capture their interest by telling them stories from Roman history, but it takes a well-ordered mind in the first place to groove on Latin grammar.  It's a hard sell for them!

But there's something endearing about 6th grade.  They're still cute, although the time is limited.  I tell them at the beginning of 6th grade that when I'm finished with them, at the end of 8th grade, all the boys and about half the girls will be taller than me.  And all the girls will be very beautiful, and about half the boys will need to shave.  They giggle when I tell them this, but it's true.  I enjoy sharing 6th grade time with the 6th graders.  It's a hugely formative time in their lives, and it will be over all too fast.  And, if I have anything to say about it, they will know their Latin grammar very, very well.