Political Correctness in School

My five year old son likes peanut butter sandwhiches. He has to sit on his own at lunchtime at school in case other children or staff with allergies are affected.

It seems a bit draconian to ostracise a young boy for the sin of eating peanuts. Would it not be more appropriate for the staff to identify children with allergies and ensure no-one else eats my sons butties?

This is the same school that had an event in their sports day of hanging washing: children lined up to run to a washing line, hang some pretend laundry and then run back. Really.

Is this normal?

The Age of Innocence

I heard about the death of Osama Bin Laden early one Sunday morning as I put 24-hour news on the TV whilst playing on the floor with my baby son. It caught me off balance; I have a professional, but very peripheral, interest in such matters. I listened to the newsreaders and journalists speculate with increasing abandon about the likely impacts or repercussions. It was likely there would be none; Bin Laden had not been a meaningful AQ figure for some time, this was a victory of US domestic policy. Possibly there would be some concern about the manner of Bin Laden's death, execution or assassination depending upon whether you considered him a religious martyr or a terrorist, but in reality, even the most antagonistic of liberal journos would see that BL's incarceration and extended trial would serve no purpose towards justice and would only further the cause of extremism: He was much better off dead.

The irony and hypocrisy of my own perspective was not lost on me as I played with an utterly innocent child. I read books and tell tales to my three little men in which the heroes are fair, the baddies are unquestionably wrong and there is always a clearly defined and happy ending. Could we ever deliver that to our children? Seemingly every generation has said that whilst prosecuting conflict somewhere else. At what age will my sons ascend to this knowledge, possibly take part in it?

Recently, as I was flushing a dead tropical fish away, my 5YO followed with interest.
"How does a fishy get to fishy heaven through the toilet, Daddy?" His question seemed to be an innocent request for information, rather than a mischievous challenge to my attempts to offer a balanced perspective on life and death. "Does it swim there?"
"No, it's dead, it can't swim. Its soul goes to heaven." Did I really say that? Does a fish have a soul? To have a soul, a being surely must have consciousness; does a fish? I remember as a child never being satisfied by these facile ideas but I was now immediately confused by the innocent logic of a 5YO. In fact he is not five yet. At what age will I have to come clean on this issue?

Sex education seems to start even earlier in life.
"Apparently your thingy gets hard and you stick it in a girl's fadge. I can't wait!" Declared an older boy in my wife's network of friends. That's the basic, innocent truth of it, I suppose, but what of the tortured wrangling that is necessary to get a girl to agree to this simple act. Sex education never seems to address the need for dinner dates, chat up lines and Brad Pitt looks. It seems to be offered as a right but at what age should we address these fundamentals? It's a bit like driving a car: The basic operating principles are simple enough but negotiating the road, other road users and weather conditions can make it a difficult experience. And the more beautiful and expensive the car, the more difficult it seems to be to drive it.

Two Legs Better

Son No 3 officially became a toddler just before his 1st birthday. He had been cruising along the walls and furniture for a while and the final impetus for him to became a bipedal man was securing a crust of toast from an elder brother. He could not crawl whilst clutching the tempting morsel of peanut butter encrusted wholemeal toast so he stood up and walked (wobbled) over to the corner to rapturous applause as if he had just won the 100m. In his world, he did and I felt just as proud of him.

He looked like an early hominid discovering that opposable thumbs allowed him to carry things as long as he walked: "Four legs good, two legs better," declared the Orwellian pigs. And now he does not stop. He is eating more and sleeping all night. It is nice to go to sleep not expecting to wake until morning. Or it would be if it were not for son No 2 who had a bad dream and No 1 who got his legs twisted in the duvet causing a panic attack.

"Daaaddy," they shout without concern for their weary father. And I respond like a faithful labrador because that smile of appreciation in the dark is like the kiss of an angel. I'm their dad; I hope they always need me so.

CHILDREN LEARN WHAT THEY LIVE

I took my three young sons to church on Sunday for some rare exposure to spiritual meaning. The 4.5YO, spent the whole service counting things and writing the numbers down, the 3.5YO put his head on my lap and went to sleep and the 1YO, who is just learning to walk, clambered all over shouting at everyone. The padre is very patient, almost indulgent, and seems to feel that my boys have some hope (in the spritual sense) simply because I managed to get them to church!

It was Mothers' Day and so his sermon focussed on that. He used the poem below to preach from. Apparently it was the mantra of parents in the states in the latter half of C20. I thnk it's brilliant and keeping it in mind helps me be less critical and more positive in dealing with the chaos of 3 under 5YOs.

CHILDREN LEARN WHAT THEY LIVE
Dorothy Law Nolte
(Adapted)

If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn
If children live with hostility, they learn to fight
If children live with ridicule, they learn to be shy
If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty
If children live with tolerance, they learn to be patient
If children live with encouragement, they learn confidence
If children live with praise, they learn to appreciate.
If children live with fairness, they learn justice
If children live with security, they learn to have faith
If children live with approval, they learn to like themselves
If children live with acceptance and friendship,
They learn to find love in the world

To Infinity and Beyond

This weekend we watched Toy Story 1, 2 and 3, several times. My boys enjoyed it so much I felt like a bad father for not having got the DVDs before. I enjoyed it too. In fact I loved it, every aspect of it from the amazing animation, believable characters and wonderful story to the clever humour, which seems to be written on several different levels. The real strength of the movies is not simply that they are good entertainment but they inspired my 3 and 4 YOs who now run around the house yelling "to infinity and beyond"!

Having spent all morning watching TV, we went out to play and get some fresh air. It was not that warm so I had the boys doing reps training: Twice around the climbing frame, up the ladder, down the big curly red slide, and back to me to do three push ups. They worked hard; I was quite impressed although I docked points for bent legs in the press-up position. A mom stood nearby looked on with interest although I could not tell if she was impressed that I had got my men well organised or horrified that I was beasting my children in such a way. My boys seemed to enjoy it, however, reminding me that they are still at an age where they prefer to be play led.

The same seems to apply to swimming and I have thus far failed to get them doing much more than a structured splashing of arms and legs together. Perhaps they are too young but there are other three year olds in the pool stoically paddling away from one side to the other. Perhaps they just need more practice. Before I had children I always imagined that I would be able teach them skills like swimming through inspired leadership but I now realise that a packet of Maltesers and promises of future delights works much better.

Perhaps reaching infinity will take a while.

Childhood Philosophy

Until recently, debates with my 4 year old had focussed on things like how Santa Claus visits everyone, why Teddy is a real friend even though he is not a real bear and why football is pointless. However, last night I got tangled up in a discussion about "reason" and if something does not have a "reason" it does not need to happen. He had been falling asleep during our book reading so I suggested he get into bed whilst I finished the story for his younger brother. "No!" he stropped in a manner so abrupt that it could not be ignored so I made him get into bed because he had been rude. He went into full tantrum meltdown. I managed to persuade him that he should apologise for being rude and come finish the story.

As I was making up a story after lights out, I said that the pirate captain shouted at his men to be quiet, prompting a debate as to whether it was reasonable for the captain to shout in that way. My son's simple logic quickly overwhelmed me and I only managed to make the point by stressing that the pirate captain wanted his men to be quiet so that they did not alert the people they were about to nick the treasure from!

I just about held the moral high ground but it left me wondering if, when perspectives such as "get into bed because you are tired" or "you don't want to be tired at school tomorrow" have not had the desired effect, it is acceptable to say "because I told you so". It is clearly a last resort but, ultimately, children need to follow reasonable direction even if they don't agree to it. Don't they?

Negative Family Influences

My sons received an obscene amount of presents for Christmas: Drum kits, simulated guitars, laptops, video cameras and numerous books and other toys. People's generosity is boundless and intrusive. When I laid the presents out under the tree on Christmas Eve to simulate Santa's presence, the pile of parcels nearly half filled our living room. Christmas morning was a frenzy of squeals and unwrapping, which is nice to see, of course, but the subsequent lack of respect for each item was not so gratifying. New toys were broken in amidst the mayhem but my 3 and 4 year olds barely paused to bother; they simply picked up the next present. With such indulgence I fear my men will never learn to value anything. I suggest to our friends and family that the best thing they can buy the boys is an education, so buy them small presents and channel the rest of your generosity into their trust funds. Most, however, want to buy something immediately tangible but the majority of presents have sat untouched since Christmas Day.

We went to Florida on Boxing Day and visited Disney, SeaWorld and Universal studios. It was disappointing, mainly because of the crowds and queues which made even walking difficult at times. The event was also marred by my Mother in Law's presence. She favours and fetters my eldest boy who is vulnerable to her spoiling. When the nucleus of my family was sat at the back of the bus or walking over to look at something, Granny and B were somehow sat at the front or always looking at something else. At one point he declared that he would not go on any rides that Granny would not do. Granny does not like rides much so my four year old boy sat in the Tonka style stroller refusing to get out. It seemed inherently unnatural and Granny's pampering seems to suck the life from him. For a week after she went home my normally balanced and outgoing son was precious and precocious.

Grandparents, of course, are immediate experts in child care, or so they seem to imply. But that was generally 30 or 40 years ago; things change and children are different. When my first son was born the matriarchs in my family (mother, mother in law, sister and friends) all descended on us. They all had a different and contradictory view; "he's too warm, he should have a vest on, he's hungry, don't demand feed him". Under such sustained pressure the poor baby started to cry prompting an immediate chorus of hushing and pointless sympathy from the matriarchs; it looked like a wolves' feeding frenzy. Despite my virginal status as a father, I sensed this was wrong so I pushed the experts aside and gathered the little man onto my shoulder and walked him to the corner where he immediately calmed down.

Sometimes I feel that I have to protect my children from my family. Sometimes I feel like saying: "Leave my children alone, you've already screwed up your own."