Category — Parenting

When I attended school in the southern part of the U.S. during the Jim Crow days of the mid 40s and 50s, my father placed me and my siblings in Catholic school. Although he and my mother were Baptists, he felt that we could and would get a better education at the hands of the nuns, rather than attend the segregated all-black public schools.

Whether or not that was true, the difference between our school and the others was the teachers. All of our students were black, but all of our teachers were white nuns. So not only did we get an education laced with religious instructions, although prayer was still a mainstay in the public schools, our social education was given from a totally different perspective oftentimes based on the racial differences of student and teacher.

I imagine the nuns felt it was their “Christian duty” to inspire confidence in us to counter the racism we faced day-to-day. Even to some of the protocol our parents insisted we show to the whites with which we came in contact, the nuns added stipulations. We were not to say “yes,” or “no, mam” to anyone who was not as old as our grandparents, including the nuns.

The nuns’ influence made an indelible impression on me, and probably my two sisters and brother also. So much so, that our father relocated the family to California for more than financial reasons. In great part, I expect, it was to protect us from the authority we had learned to defy.

I recently heard the statistics that 75% of teachers in the U.S. are white, and the schools have been integrated since the 60s. But there is something as sinister as segregation afoot in our school system. Many of our children are struggling, particularly in the area of social skills, and there are a number of things which have attributed to this situation.

For one, the banishment of prayer and along with it the teaching of good and bad. I too believe in religious privacy, but now children learn about actions and consequences, and everyone’s rights must be respected. It seems they are getting the message that if it feels right to them then they can do it, as long as they are willing to face the consequences. Our jails and prisons are filling up with criminals, many wealthy and famous, who acted on their feelings rather than whether what they were doing was right or wrong.

It seems to go back to the teachings of the nuns that we were supposed to respect our rights regardless of how others were disrespecting us. But somewhere in there was also the lesson that others had rights too, and it was wrong if we did not respect them.

With everyone seeming to go for themselves lately, along the way we, especially our children, have become lost. It seems that a return to treating others as we want to be treated is in order, but this concept can only be learned. Whether from our caregivers’ laps or in the classroom, social skills training and empathy for others is crucial for a civilized society. We must relearn the values that contribute to an appropriate way of life, and education is the key.

Here is a great video of children learning social skills rules in class. Thanks to the students and their teachers for this effort.

Where does the labor pain go when it releases you? Is there a little pocket somewhere inside where it tucks itself away until the next time it holds you in its grip or until the doctors anesthetize you? Why is it that when it’s gone you can’t quite remember it other than that it hurt something awful?

Each time I went into labor with my six children, I waited with anticipation for the pains to begin, and longed for the occasion when I would be on my way to the delivery room. Most expectant mothers will tell you that by the time you get to the ninth month you relish the idea of your labor pains beginning, because it means that you will be able to reclaim your body from the little invader who has controlled your every waking and sleeping hours. You anticipate that finally you will be able to sleep on your back, tummy or side without a foot, elbow or knee demanding that you turn over to make “them” comfortable.

It is not, however, until the pains begin that you remember what it was like the last time when you swore to never put yourself in this position again. Rushing back to your core, the pain echoes the pressure, fear and excruciating squeeze and release of muscles left unused since the previous delivery. Like a steely Grinch, the pain carries away every smidgen of tranquility, relaxation and comfort you have been able to muster up for the big day. Replacing your excitement with only one desire…to get it out and over with as quickly as possible!

After everything is said and done and the baby is safely delivered, however, you realize what a great gift pain has given you. Staring down into the face of your newborn is one of the most fulfilling moments of your life and most satisfying. Those who have experienced it more than once can attest that wherever the pain goes, you are grateful that it resides in a place that keeps it safe, able and ready to help you deliver one of life’s greatest rewards ever.

For seven years after the child-abuse case I had been involve in was closed and my children restored to me, I worked with parents involved in child abuse. As an advocate who believed Child Protective Services (CPS) removes an excessive number of children from their homes, including mine, struggling with other parents charged with child abuse was the most discouraging. I soon realized why parents were generally ignored during the processing of their situations or their parental rights were removed entirely.

Even my own co-parent became a problem in my effort to reunite our family. He continued to declare that “no one can tell me how to raise my children,” although our children were removed from school without our knowledge and put in out-of-home placement. After our cases were separated, I was able to move more smoothly and quickly through the system.

The day after my children were restored to me, I launched a child-abuse prevention program called “American Family Alliance.” It was a not-for-profit, boot-strap collection of volunteers funded entirely by our welfare, retirement and disability checks. When we began, we were full of great intentions and willingness, but had no idea of the challenges which lay ahead, nor of the struggles we would encounter with CPS and the parents.

The first adventure into our outreach efforts was a questionnaire we handed out at a church picnic. My associate and I had very carefully chosen the wording for what we thought would fit the educational level of our target clientele. To our dismay, when we retrieved the questionnaires, the forms were all blank. We found out that none of the people could read or they had very limited ability! The lesson we learned that day was very important and our expectations were colored by our being more sensitive to the status of most of the people with which we would be working.

I am not implying that all parents involved in child abuse are illiterate. To the contrary, there is no profile to which “child abusers” can be limited. Those who are determined to be inappropriate or dysfunctional regarding the care of their children fall into every social status. But because we chose to work primarily with parents who were determined by CPS as members of the “Underclass,” or those on the lowest social rung, our experiences were colored by that designation.

Nevertheless, in our work we found that the greatest stumbling block to achieving our goals of helping parents recover their children was in the parents’ attitudes. They were either very scared and submissive, and not willing to confront “the system;” or belligerent and stubborn. The latter were not open to any change which would facilitate restoration of their parenting privileges and the release of their children from foster care.

Many parents simply gave up under the weight of CPS because of its ability to use the courts, police, media and other elements of authority and influence to seek out and destroy their resolve to recover their children. This was true particularly of parents who are not aware of their rights. Unfortunately, those parents would often hinder their efforts, as well as ours, by standing in their own way.

“When I was a child”…I acted like a child. There are many children, I’m sure we all know a few, who seem to have skipped childhood and went straight into adulthood. Their walk, talk, and actions are those of someone much older than their tender years represent. I always feel saddened by the mannerisms of a child whose childhood has been stolen either by the actions of their parents, other caregivers, peer pressure, the media or too much exposure to all of adult society.

Back in the “good old days” when I was a child, I admit that much that we should have known was held in secret by all those who believed that a child should be “seen and not heard.” We were not allowed to remain in the company of adults who were visiting, but introduced then quickly shuffled to a discreet distance away from the ensuing conversation. “Grown folks business” was not our business, and we were not privileged to interact with older adults until we were much older, even if we were young and married.

I agree that life has changed and information exchange has loosened…thank God. Because of the times we live in, the strangers who lurk around the corner, and too much exposure of the negative kind being spewed out to tender minds, there is a need to counteract with information that parents deem appropriate for their children. This need to protect yet enlighten is the premise behind the Restore Childhood Project.

The goal of the Restore Childhood Project is to support those non-profit organizations which promote play as the appropriate outlet for children, as well as help parents, other caregivers, teachers, and the media in developing and using positive messages and tools of learning.

The attached survey is an initial attempt to gather feedback on the idea of such a project. Please feel to add your comments and suggestions. Thank you.

This is a picture of my rag doll, Bubba Oodle. For the last 18 years I have prepared for, cared for and now I’m introducing Bubba to the world as the first visitor from the land of Oodleville. Bubba is one of 10 characters in my adventure stories for children, the first one is entitled, “The First Trip.”

The idea for Bubba and the other Oodle Dolls was conceived during a conversation with my daughter. We were sharing stories about toys and dolls we loved as children. I mentioned how I made dolls from soda bottles, clothes pins and hemp rope; she mentioned how she loved rag dolls. Then she asked why there were no commercial black rag dolls, and could I make some?

Having been a seamstress for a large portion of my life, I had scraps of cloth and ribbon in my sewing basket and soon had all of the dolls made. They were given names and occupations, and the stories seemed to flow about their imaginary land of Oodleville.

Now that the first story has been published, and the Bubba Oodle dolls’ store is up and running, things are in ready for Bubba to meet children from around the world, and I feel like a parent whose child is going off to college. As with that event, I am very proud of what has been and will be accomplished.

http://oodleville.myshopify.com

www.thefirsttrip.com

www.cafepress.com/oodleville