Friday, March 10, 2006
I've got to vent!
Have these parents been to a high school lately? Have they listened to their kids? Talked to their kids? Eaten a meal with their kids? Aren’t these the same kids with computers and satellite TV in their rooms, where they go and lock the door with a bag of fast food and encounter an anonymous, uncensored world with no guidance from the parents who are too wrapped up in Deal or No Deal to make a family meal?
I’m so frustrated!
We don’t have time to sit down and watch one family TV with our kids or share a family computer in a common area where we can monitor their Internet habits. However, we do have time to organize a group to lobby the school district to pick a production with no pertinent social message because it also has no curse words, kissing or innuendo in it.
Maybe we have time to organize the group because we don’t have to talk to our kids to do it. Maybe we have time to censor everyone because we’ve already censored ourselves with such a heavy hand that we can’t confront our own fears, aspirations, shattered dreams. Once again, we’d rather assimilate than explore.
Remember the good ol’ ’80s? When we could write for our school newspapers about stuff that actually happened to us as teenagers? Then came the Supreme Court ruling that allowed district censorship of school newspapers, so parents can rest easy. If it’s not in the school paper it must not be happening to our kids. Denial is such a powerful thing. In the ’80s I took on the school theater productions because they were a place where I could let out my inner artist, become someone else, sing and dance, cross paths with someone I might not meet otherwise in the rigid hierarchy of high school society. It was a place to encounter a new way of seeing the world and from it more ideas were born. Of course there were adult themes, but young adults present the show. Marketers say they have more buying power than any other demographic, you know. And soon they’ll be able to vote, you know. Serve our country in the military, you know. They’re already smoking, drinking, having sex, you know. And if they aren’t they know someone who is. But wait, it might scar them to hear the word “hell.” ’Cause, well, they don’t say that on satellite TV.
I freely admit I find teenagers difficult to be around. It’s not that I look at them and am afraid, it’s that I look at them and wonder when I stopped being that person. The one with the bright eyes and the big vision, the poet who wrote each night and (willingly or unwillingly) studied history, math, science each day. They are the future and some parents try to shield them from the here and now; from the ever-truths of our humanity; from experimentation, from love and lust; from individuality. Limits are necessary, but a shield is just a parent’s blinders on steroids.
Don’t these parents know that these are the people who will have to clean up the mess, just as we are the people cleaning up the mess left while our parents were lobbying against MTV?
Suppression of art.
Is this really the direction our country wants to take?
I am sorry to be here, being this parent I try so hard not to be. I believe most every parent does the very best they can and that, sometimes, we as parents, are much too hard on each other. But so many times as an American
In case you’re wondering what set me off, it was the morning paper. It usually makes me angry, but I believe in knowing what the people around me think, even if I disagree with it, so I read it. It’s just that today, quite obviously, it really struck a nerve. It won’t ruin my weekend though. Looking forward to two days of nothing scheduled. Kids playing outside … scrapbooking to the sounds of hubby composing music somewhere nearby. Journaling … maybe even a drawing or something. Good weather means grilling and if the new recipe is good, I’ll share it Monday. It’s from this same cursed newspaper, so the paper can’t be that bad.
Thanks for reading my rant. And thanks to Megg for her post today, which calmed me after writing this. In my brain, the wall she showed became the vocal minority and the ocean the rest of us … persistent, powerful, slowly chipping away at what stands between us and what we love … the beach, the millions of grains of sand that move freely between land and sea and never know the difference.
Aahh. Much calmer now, thank you Megg. Here’s to a happy weekend to all who come here!
I am amazed at the things people have time to care about and the issues they just step over and don't even notice. AMAZED.
I have to admit that I don't always watch the news/read the paper because I get so upset. At least once a month I watch the Sunday morning political shows and get so distressed. My husband will hear me yelling at the TV. ARGH!!!
But I am so glad that you found some peace in Meg's beautiful post.
I hope that more peace sneaks its way in this weekend.
I thought your post was raw and beautiful and made me feel less alone so Thank you! Your children are lucky to have you as their mother!
Growing up in the 70s, we did a play called "We Bombed in New Haven" at my high school, along with a good number of other controversial performances. I hate that parents nowadays think their kids are little darlings that have to be protected from the big, bad world out there, that the media thinks we can't handle the truth about what's going on in the world, that our government wants to listen in to our conversations and censor what we have every right to say.
It's got to stop. And we need every little bit of creativity we can muster to figure out how to deal with it all. Blessings to ALL of you creatives out there, who enrich my life so much these days.
: Monday, March 13, 2006 12:47:00 AM Cheers,
Anne-Marie
<< Home
