Skip to main content

Rethinking the Good Old Days

 



Sometimes you don’t know.  You think you do, but you don’t.

I saw some unhappiness online yesterday about how some schools celebrate (or don’t celebrate) Halloween. There are some things that touch a nerve in people, because of happy memories in their childhood. I remember that when the Columbia Association was working on what they called the Aquaplan - - to rethink Columbia’s pools - - they came up against this phenomenon.

Don’t mess with things in my childhood that gave me joy. They’re sacred.

If you have memories of happy Halloween celebrations at school when you were young it may feel wrong when that isn’t what happens at your own child’s school.

We may not understand that there are children in our schools whose families don’t celebrate Halloween, perhaps for religious reasons, and so they are excluded from a big happy day with their classmates. We may not understand what it feels like to be that child, year after year, who family has no money for costumes or whose home life is far too chaotic to cope with anything extra. We may not know the fear of a parent, whose child has anaphylactic food allergies, every time there is a celebration at school that includes food.

It isn’t the same as when we were little. Sometimes that is hard to accept. It feels so, so simple to us - - a day to dress up, let off steam, maybe have a little classroom party with a few games - - but it is only simple if we ignore people whose life experiences are different than ours. Is it truly worth it to persist in recreating the school Halloween experience of our childhoods if it hurts others? Excludes others? Makes them feel less valuable or less a part of their own community?

Some times it seems so simple. It isn’t. Sometimes we just don’t know.

For more on this topic, come back in February.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents.  When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday.  Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was  "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018.  2018 .  But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest.  In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...

Columbia Chance Connection

  Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!”  We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...