Welcome to Janet's World

        Recently, the classic bully from my elementary school befriended me on Facebook. I simply ignored his request, and chose not to respond. For a couple of weeks, he would try to address me by replying underneath any comments I had made on other classmate's pages; just simple, non-threatening notes about remembering him, recalling that our mothers were friends, and so on. But I just couldn't make myself click "accept friendship" where he was concerned.

            Call me unforgiving, rigid, uptight--because certainly, names will never hurt me. After all, I'm still around, and I'd been called them all by this little boy more than 40 years ago. My college-age son said, "Mom, it's just Facebook--you're making a bigger deal out of this than is necessary by not friending him." I replied that this kid publicly humiliated me in elementary school, so he sure as heck wasn't going to intimidate me into a weird kind of superficial friendship, now.

            As an adult, I've come to realize how this little boy might have had either a horrific, abusive home life or been coping with an untreated emotional or mental disability. I see now how his actions were a cry for help, and I feel compassion. But that doesn't erase the memory of the fear I experienced every day in his presence. And when a bully is not removed temporarily from the classroom, it sends a clear message to the victim that he or she is somehow less valued, even expendable.

            In making the case against suspension of bullies, Baltimore Schools CEO Andres Alonso recently remarked, "The children come as is. We don't choose them. We have an obligation to all of them." But certainly this includes the victims of bullying, whose taxpaying parents have an equal voice in the management of this issue in the public schools. 

            I agree with Mr. Alonso that simply suspending bullies is neither smart nor effective--we send them right back into the environments where they learned their aberrant behaviors, or where their emotional or mental conditions were neither noticed nor addressed. And I think Mr. Alonso would agree with me that we should focus on the treatment, not punishment, of bullies.

            But where we differ is that I believe that bullies should be removed from their regular classes and victims for a period of time consistent with the level of harassment inflicted. They should be required to attend a structured, on-site program on conflict resolution, and they should have an opportunity to meet with counselors for evaluation. Their parents or caregivers could be required to attend a session or sessions with them. And they should return to the regular classroom only when they have demonstrated their new coping skills. Former bullies could then become role models for the program, returning to mentor and assist students who are newly placed in the program.

            This certainly is going to be a costly program. But we all pay eventually, if school bullying is not addressed, and its victims' safety compromised.

Enough with the self-celebrating!

            Award shows and after-galas are somewhat forgivable in the entertainment industry because there is a performance element to the programming. What's more, the lives of actors, dancers and singers often telegraph the classic rags-to-riches stories that are emblematic of the American dream. On some level, the Grammys, Tonys, Emmys and Oscars remind us that whether you're "Fearless" or "Next to Normal," you can experience a unique kind of "Glee" on your way "Up."

            But something about last week's front-page photo in The Baltimore Sun of confetti raining down on Maryland House Speaker Michael E. Busch at the close of the Maryland legislative session kind of irked this life-of-the-party girl. 

            Don't get me wrong: I truly admire public servants because they willingly choose a path where they are badgered in their personal lives--whether they are out to dinner or grocery shopping or working out at the gym--by constituents who always seem to have just one question. They have to spend long hours in the evenings sitting in uncomfortable chairs listening to the lengthy testimony of people who sometimes make no sense at all. They have to make tough decisions that invariably disappoint some people all of the time. In return, they often get precious few accolades and little respect.

            But it is, after all, a job. And no one is showering any of us at the end of a particularly challenging 90-day project with confetti kudos.

            I'm certain I don't know the first thing about the extensive behind-the-scenes negotiations that result in a bill being passed, or the extent of the late hours spent researching issues in order to make an informed decision. I have no doubt that the work is difficult and, at times, even tedious. I'll bet it's probably a lot like the job of taking tolls at the Harbor Tunnel, or checking out customers at Wal-Mart, or standing all day on your feet at the counter at the local dry cleaners.

            My point is, I think we have to be sensitive to the fact that most Americans are tentatively, cautiously emerging from this painful recession with just a little hope and no fanfare. The most fortunate are simply adding years to their work lives to support college tuitions and prepare for their own retirements. The less fortunate are trying to figure out if they can pay the rent or buy enough groceries this week.

            So it's just not party time, for either the Democrats or Republicans. The close of a 90-day legislative session where much was accomplished--but much was not--is really just another day in the lives of hardworking Americans.

            We'll let you know when it is time to celebrate, because we will celebrate you, and it will be a genuine outpouring of gratitude, not confetti.

 (How I felt about the Balloon Boy incident, written just before Halloween, October 2009)         

             It shouldn't be a dramatic revelation; it should be more of a slow realization--somewhere between your fifth and fifteenth year of life, you figure out that your parents aren't perfect. It's usually not particularly traumatic, because it occurs just at the time when you are discovering the commonality of the human condition: we all make mistakes and face the consequences. I believe this is called growing up.

            I can't help but wonder how it is, though, for a small child whose world is turned inside out and upside down before he ever has a chance to do this essential growing up. Worse yet, how awful it must be for a child floating in a sno-globe of a world continually shaken by his parents and displayed on national television. It's enough to make you sick.

            And indeed it did seem to make Falcon Heene sick, on the Today Show a few weeks ago during an interview of his family by Meredith Vieira. They had just gotten to the question on whether the family's concern about Falcon being in their launched homemade weather balloon was a hoax when Falcon vomited. It's kind of an all-time low for morning television.

            But I think it was, really, the only appropriate response.

            The people most trusted and loved by that child not only let him down, but humiliated him in public. Pass me a bowl, I'm feeling kind of queasy myself.

            Look at it this way. In most families, lying is not tolerated. In the best of families, an in-person apology to the offended person is part of the consequence.

            But here we have a small boy who is complicit in an enormous, complicated, costly, adult-formulated lie, and the consequence--the shame and angst--comes after he tells the truth. The truth does not exactly set him free.

            Honestly, what and who can this child ever fully believe in again?

            Forgive me, but the older I get, the crankier I get with inept parents. I have to stop myself from going up to the pregnant woman outside the Safeway and flicking the cigarette out of her mouth. I have done the audible sharp intake of breath when the guy in front of me in the fast-food line smacked his toddler hard across the face because he was fidgeting, and I have answered, "Yes, I do," when he jeered, "You got a problem, lady?" I have stood outside cars in parking lots with children locked inside until the harried parent returns to make this point: your child is a precious gift.

            No one prepares you for this most difficult job of parenthood. I have proposed my radical idea of a required child development/parenting course in high school, only to be greeted with raised eyebrows, laughter and a rapid change of subject--as if the subject of parenting is not important, or worthy of intellectual discourse.

             But the fact is, whether you become a parent or not, you are someday going to have to deal with a small child--in a restaurant, at a sporting event, or on a family reunion vacation. And it might be helpful to have learned some parenting tenets in a classroom setting so that you can interact appropriately. Believe me, there are a whole lot of people out there who don't seem to know these basic three rules:

1.     Model the positive behavior you expect from your child: honesty, integrity, generosity, kindness, enthusiasm, curiosity, whatever.  Apologize when you get off track or make a mistake.

2.     Be generous of spirit; create a sharing community in your family that spills over into a sense of shared community with the world at large.

3.     Pay attention to your child whenever he speaks with you. This establishes trust, and it's also how he learns to make eye contact and communicate effectively.

            I've got a bunch more of these pretty common-sense parenting guidelines, and maybe someday I'll write a book instead of acting like a wacky, one-woman parenting vigilante.

            I just hope no one comes trick-or-treating at my house this weekend dressed as "Balloon Boy."

            Because it's just not funny. It's sad.