Here is a story about Mrs. Skenazy, a NYC mother who let her 9 year old ride the subway home alone. She wrote about it in here column here.
Now, before you mistake my point of view here, I agree entirely with the mother, and think the “Parenting expert” Dr. Ruth Peters to be part of the fear mongered problem.
I’m not a parent. I plan to be, but right now, I’m speaking merely as a childless adult with experience with children, both in and out of relationships. That doesn’t really amount to much in the end. I honestly don’t know what it’s like to fear for my child’s life and safety, and don’t have the slightest idea how deep it cuts to watch my child in pain. I can, however, as an adult, look back on some of the things my parents did and consider how I turned out because of it.
I remember them letting my brother and I ride the bus to Town East Square. I don’t remember how old we were, but it had to be before I turned 14 and my brother 10. I seem to remember pestering them for a while about it before they caved. It was novel and new and exciting… for a while. I don’t think we did it too much, and don’t recall being too eager to do it much more. Even then, I liked riding my bike more. In fact, I may have even ridden that baby blue 10-speed to Town East once or twice. It was only about 6 and a half miles away, after all.
I remember my brother, friends, and myself wandering around the creek about a mile from the house. That’s not very far, but to our minds, it felt like worlds away. We were in elementary school, we had no phones, and were typically gone for hours at a time. Anything could have happened, and many things did. By and large, all we ever did was have fun.
How far was it from my childhood home to my best friend’s home? I rode my bike (on the sidewalks, no less - ugh) there and back countless times around some fairly busy streets. That 3.3 miles felt a lot longer to my 7th-8th grade legs. But we would take our bikes and ride way up north on Rock Road, out to K96 (though not on it), and Web and Greenwich roads. Fueled by thoughts of American Flyers, we had no phones, no parents following in cars to keep tabs on us and no idea how many miles we road. All we knew was that we were tired at the end of it. They trusted us to find our way, and we did. They trusted us to learn from our mistakes, and we did, and continue to do so.
Don’t make the mistake of thinking ours was a top notch, first class neighborhood, either. The shack two houses down was condemned as a crack house. Heroin burnt spoons in the front yard finally prompted my parents to ramp up the plans to move us away. I don’t remember gun shots, or being accosted myself, but it wasn’t the friendliest of places. But my parents didn’t lock us up out of fear for our lives.
If I gave it more thought, I could come up with many more examples of how my parents let my brother and I feel our way out in the world on our own, but I don’t think I need to. I think it is enough now to say they took a “guide and protect” approach towards our childhood, rather than a “protect at all costs” approach. The let us make mistakes and only stepped in when it became clear those mistakes would cause irreversible damage. Even then, they couldn’t protect us from everything, or guide us through all choices. They were realists that knew when to step in, and when to step back.
My Father paid my brother and I an incredible compliment not long ago. While complaining about some posters in a woodworking forum he frequents who seemed to require hand holding for the most basic of tasks, he mentioned to Mom that one of the things he admires about both my brother and myself is that if we don’t know how to do something, we’re not afraid to jump in and figure it out. If we fail, we don’t consider it a failure, it’s a learning experience. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re not afraid, but I will say fear doesn’t run our lives. Bravery isn’t about being unafraid, it’s about going forward in spite of it. Who knows how we would have turned out if they had placed protection in front of guidance? Who knows where we would be if they had shielded us from the dangers of the world completely, rather than letting us slowly learn about them ourselves? I don’t, but I imagine a life tinted by fear, rather than curiosity.
The article I linked to at the beginning of this longer-than-planned post reminded me of a very interesting graphic at shows the generational changes in how far parents let their children wander. My brother and I fit somewhere in between the Grandfather and the great-grandfather. I wonder where my children will fit.
Until then… Mom, Dad… thanks for letting us ride.
