Men Pull The Wagon

Why is it, that men insist on pulling the wagon loaded with beach toys, umbrellas and coolers on and off the beach? Women carry a chair, or a child and a bright green sippy cup.

The children rarely carry anything. Maybe a bucket. Maybe a backpack chair. But they are free to run and spin and do whatever they want because they are not old enough to be saddled with the pulling of the wagon. The teenagers, heads drooping,on their phones walk at least a hundred feet back from their parents as though to say, "No, that is NOT my family." They plop their beach wares down on the sand, snack, play in the water and eventually, leave when the baby gets fussy. They pack up and once again, the father lugs all things back to the car while the women chase their little one who has already decided they were done on the beach. Some how, some way, everyone makes it to the car with the father in the lead, because no one else expected to know WHERE said car is. After he puts all the "beach necessities" in the trunk, he sits in the driver's seat and delicately gets out of the parallel parking space it took half an hour to find. In the meantime, the children start getting hungry, argumentative and fussy and the mom tries to calm everyone down until they finally arrive back at their beach rental.

Twenty six years ago I got married to a wonderful man and our beach trips were no different then the one above. We knew that was how it was supposed to be because that's what our families did when we were growing up. It was what we were taught. We had loving, yet passive mothers to our dominant fathers. Why? Because that's what THEIR parents did. It's what's been happening since the hunter/gatherer days and just like many other things, as women we don't stop to think: Is this really the way I want my life to be? Eighteen years after my husband and I said our vows, we separated. He had fallen into his role as the increadibly hard working bread winner and I was the caregiver. Deep in my soul I knew that being passive was not the way to live my own vision of a meaningful life. Don't get me wrong, my family IS the most meaningful and important part of my life (including my exhusband) but when I looked in my little girl's eyes, I knew I didn't want her only model of "womanhood" to be the passive one I was showing her. After becoming a divorced mom and having to be the beach packer, wagon puller and driver I realized that I was capable of doing so much more than was programed in me. Now, I don't necessarily ENJOY doing all the things, but there are moments where being divorced for 8 years has taught me to do a LOT on my own, including the heavy lifiting a "man of the house" would do. Sometimes, I HAVE wished there was a man around to help me with the heavy lifting, but most of the time I am proud when I've completed a task I never thought I could. Had I stayed married, I'm pretty sure I would NEVER have had to learn how to change a gasket on a toilet tank or fix a jammed garbage disposal. It was trained into me that these things are a man's work and the untraining has been a wonderfully exhausting process.

I guess it's the same way at the beach. Women were trained that their job was that men were stronger and their job was to make sure all the children were tagging along behind them and the men would be the ones to carry the heavy load. Interestingly enough, should another man or woman see a man "allowing" the woman to pull that wagon and see HIM hustling those children along, there would be some whispers: "That's terrible, she has to pull that heavy thing through the sand - he's not even helping." or "What a lazy ass" or maybe, "Clearly she wears the pants in the family." ( I am guilty of these thoughts when I see a woman mowing the lawn).

Let's teach our girls that they are strong enough to pull that wagon or that they can help their partner pull the wagon. Or if they don't WANT to pull the wagon so be it. Let's open their eyes to knowing that they don't have to cater to a social structure that has been in place since,

forever. I want my daughter to know the only guide she has to follow is the one inside of herself. And our boys - let's teach them it's ok not to pull the wagon...and to walk behind their women with a green sippy cup in one hand and children in tow.

The Boot

SuziQ. You know who she is. There is at least one in every class. Little round moon face, pink cheeks, saucer sized brown eyes and most importantly the sassiest, spunkiest and most energetic girl in class.

This year, my SuziQ was online, all year. I would hear her say things like, "MOM! I'll handle it!" "What are we supposed to do again? What are we supposed to do?" "Can I share? I know something about _______" "Sorry, I was going potty, can you start over again?"oh, and my favorite... "HEY! YOU GUYS NEED TO TURN OFF YOUR MICS!" We knew we could always count on her to tell us if the sound was working, because of the five on-line kids we had, she was the only one who consistently paid attention to what was going on. She's 5.

She would come on-line in the morning, somewhat disheveled but ready to learn. But after lunch she would come back... looking like me. The messy bun, the glasses.

The first time I saw mini me looking back at big me, I had to turn off my camera and mic because I couldn't control my laughter. She even had that obnoxious piece of hair that was too short to stay in the bun, sticking up like the FU finger, just like mine. This. Was. Suzie Q.

Yesterday I was walking through my neighborhood and was lucky enough to bump into her as she was heading to the pool. At this point you should know that I was wearing a surgical shoe on my left foot (for a broken big toe), and a boot on my right foot.

The surgical shoe looks like a cheap Birkenstock knock off. but I don't mind it. It's not so noticible. Then there's The Boot. The Boot has become the bain of my existence. It's the kind of boot they give you to keep your foot and ankle stable. I have Planter's Fascitis, so in order for my foot to heal, I have to wear this big, black klunky, sweaty thing EVERYWHERE. I would take the surgical sandal over The Boot ANY. DAMN. DAY. Regardless, I still have to wear them both while I walk the dog, which is what led me to meeting SuziQ in her front yard.

When she saw me she said hi, gave me her big, gorgeous, front tooth missing smile. Then, she looked directly at my feet. "Oh no Ms. Devine! What happened?" I explained my various foot challenges to her.

She looked at my ridiculous feet again asking me to explain why I had two different shoes. Once I was finished with the shortened version of the foot fun she looked again, then looked up at me.

What came out of her mouth next is something only a five year old would say. Pointing at The Boot she said, "Well that one's the coolest because it looks like a snow boot. I like that one the best." I then asked her if I should decorate it with pink jems and a Hello Kitty sticker. She nodded and said a confident "YES!" We said good bye, and she skipped off to the pool with her dad while I just stood there, amazed again by the beauty of the five year old's brain that has yet to be corrupted with what it should and shouldn't think.

The Boot? The Boot is the coolest? I never thought of it like a snow boot. And in the 90 degree summer heat, it was anything but cool. But she was right. The surgical shoe was so... blazeeee. So...unnoticable. But The Boot! The Boot was amazing, because who gets to wear a cool snow boot in the middle of summer?

Once again, I was reminded of why young children and their brains are so beautiful. Only a young child would look at this big awful thing on my foot and be amazed by it's "coolness".

Young children look at the world differently. Young children are what Sir Ken Robinson calls "Divergent Thinkers" They can look at something and ask a multitude of questions that no adult would think of. A child can look at a plate and use their imagination to think of 20 different things that plate could be: a steering wheel, a hat, a mirror etc....An adult will look at a plate and say it's for eating off of. This, is what makes young children smarter, more curious and more thoughtful about what they see about the world in front of them. This is what makes "The Boot" cool and amazing. This, is why I will never teach to a test.

This video by Sir Ken Robinson is one of the things that opened my eyes to the brilliance of young children and the changes needed in the American education system. I believe what our school system SHOULD be doing is open ended and inclusive of ALL children. I think about "The Boot" the way I do in part because of what was trained in to me through school. Not just in my pre college days, but in college as well. To be this you have to do this. To earn money you have to do this. To live "the American dream you have to think like this. I lived the American dream. I ended up with two amazing kids but also a divorce and medication for depression and anxiety. I am now selling my American dream house and want to get the hell out of the suburbs where the American dream happens. I want to think about "The Boot" as cool, like SuzyQ. I will do this by continuing to take note of all the things my brilliant kindergarteners say and do.

If you'd like to see Sir Ken Robinson's fascinating video on why our school system is the way it is and why our children often struggle with ADHD, test failure and limited creative thinking, click on the link below. It could open your eyes. Just like SuziQ opened mine.

https://www.youtube.com/watch ?v=zDZFcDGpL4U

The Rock

School ended June.. 11ish. As usual, I cried, laughed and was filled with gratitude for the children that had been entrusted to me this year. The other day I was getting ready to do laundry and I pulled a large rock out of my raincoat. It had the name "David" on it.

Suddenly I was flooded with memories of this sweet, happy go lucky little boy that I'd had in my class for two years. His mom was smart enough to know he was young going in to kindergarten and so an extra year would really get him ready for first grade. The best part was that I got to keep him. For two years. The little one who wouldn't look up or answer questions in whole group when he was five flourished in kindergarten when he was six.

The rock, was something David had given me on a cold, drizzly day while we were outside on the playground. Several weeks later he saw me take the rock he had given me out of my pocket and put it onto my desk. He looked at me. His little mask decorated with pizza slices, his bright green minecraft shirt, the sweat pants he was starting to grow out of and ruffled blonde hair. Then as he pointed to his brown sitting on my desk. Thhe rock that looked the same as ALL the brown rocks, "you still have that rock I gave you?" he inquired. I patted his little head and said, "Of COURSE I DO. I keep ALL the treasures you give me!" I couldn't see the smile on his mouth, but I could see it in his eyes. He was satisfied with my answer and could get on with his day.

Often times I find random items in my pockets: barretts, hair ties, tiny lego men, rocks, flowers, leaves, water bottle caps, homemade bracelets. After I take them out, I put them in my treasure box. I could tell you specifically which child gave them to me. A homemade necklace from Jefferson, a bracelet Melani made me at after school care, a barrett from Madison, and a lego guy Christopher and I both forgot about.

These aren't just items I often find left over like old Chapstick, tissues, or a lost whistle. These things,

the rock, the lego guy, the necklace, these are treasures. They remind me of the child who gave them to me and the relationship we had. They remind me of the love and energy felt by a teacher and a child who are truly listening and engaged with each other. Those moments in school and outside on the playground where a child says: "Thank you for listening and for talking with me. For believing in me and helping me reach my goals. For helping me learn how to be a better friend and classmate. But most of all, thank you for allowing me to feel loved and at home each day I walk through your door. " David may only be 6, but that treasure he gave me, that ridiculous brown rock, is a reminder each and every day of why teaching is not just a job but a calling to help these children make our world a better place.