After the shiur (class) after shul, the kids receive some kind of treat. This week my daughter got a package of Tapuchips (potato chips). The label on the outside gives a warning in four languages that the package contains a dangerous toy, “Not suitable for children under 6 years .”
Toy Warning
I was curious since most warnings are for children under the age of 3, because of small parts. So I was surprised when my daughter (just short of 6!) opened this fearful object (wrapped in plastic with the warning repeated):
The Dangerous Object
It’s a simple cardboard card. Oh, wait, it’s coated with some kind of shiny veneer. It seems to me that potato chips are more of a choking hazard than this toy.
More ridiculous labelling: Imaginary Ingredients
I’ve been reading Free-Range Kids at the recommendation of Sylvia-Rachel. Author Lenore Askenazy, head of the Free Range movement, is one of the Forward 50 Influential Jews of 2009 and was interviewed this week by both Time Magazine and CNN.
The premise of her book and blog is that parents stifle their kids when they worry about things that are unlikely to happen, like molestation and kidnapping. By teaching them to be scared of strangers and chauffeuring them everywhere, we deny them the chance to learn life skills and solve problems. There are health implications too: Kids don’t get enough exercise.
I grew up as a “free-range” kid, walking alone to school from the time I turned five. My own kids ride public buses from about 9 and the older ones started walking to school in first grade. But over the years I have become more cautious about walking to school. This is partly because of warnings and partly because of scary things that happened to people I know.
I trust my kids to get to school on their own, although I am still nervous about intersections without traffic lights. Last week I decided to let my first and third-graders walk the three blocks to school on their own, after crossing the busiest intersection with them. They have to cross one dead-end street and another manned by crossing guards. Other than my son complaining that his sister walks too slowly, they were comfortable with the idea.
The commenters on Skenazy’s blog talk about how hard it is to be a “free-ranger” when you are the only one. When I spoke to a mother from my son’s class about having the two third-graders walk home together on the days they finish late, she agreed in theory. “After the winter,” she promised. In the meantime I’m hesitant to let my son walk by himself because the streets are deserted at that hour.
When do you let your kids walk to school alone?
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Don’t You Have More Love for a Child than That?
Photo credit: D Sharon Pruitt
A number of years ago Emunah, a women’s organization with charitable projects including a chain of daycare centers, offered an 8-session course in child safety to its employees and volunteers. Since I had small children and worked with new mothers, I decided to try it out.
Like many programs in Israel the class started at 5 PM. My teen was willing to supervise the younger ones, including my two-year-old. But I knew things could get rowdy, and left the house with apprehension.
The instructor, a doctor who worked for the child safety organization Beterem, started on time. She raised her cell phone in the air and pointedly turned it off, instructing us to do the same. I tried not to think about what was happening at home.
To prepare for her lecture, the instructor had visited the local children’s hospital to learn about recent accidents:
I don’t remember details of accidents 3 and 4, but they involved cars, small children and lack of restraints.
Surprisingly, the speaker gave an example of an accident that could not have been prevented: A teen injured by a falling rock while on a hike. Maybe hikers should wear helmets? Or that part of the path could have been closed off? The speaker clearly lacked imagination.
She talked about Beterem’s campaign urging parents not to let children cross streets alone before age 9, explaining that children’s visual perception is not developed enough to judge distance. She criticized parents who said Beterem expected mothers to rush home from work to cross the street with their six-year-olds after school.
The instructor also brought up the law that allows six-year-olds to watch younger siblings. Everyone knows that is too young, but lawmakers can’t agree on an appropriate age. This also affects working parents.
I learned that bananas are a choking hazard. Like hotdogs, they should be slit lengthwise before serving.
After two hours of warnings, with no trace of humor or even a smile from the teacher, we were allowed to turn on our cellphones and go home. Fortunately, my kids were still in one piece.
When I rode home with a few of the daycare center managers, the woman sitting next to me did not put on her seatbelt even after I reminded her. I guess not everyone absorbs things the same way.
I never went back to the class.
We got an advertising brochure for the large charity organization Kupat Hair, the City Fund, operating in haredi communities throughout Israel.
Normally they include stories of people who recover funds in the stock market/find the housekey/make the plane after promising to donate to Kupat Hair. Often the protagonists are (presumably wealthy) Americans or Europeans.
The front cover of this week’s issue shows a picture of Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky “praying for all of the children.” He’s praying that they will be accepted into the yeshiva that is best for them, and that they will pass the days of summer safely.
The next page describes the dangers of summer including newspapers, outings, and books, away from the spiritual protection of the yeshiva walls. They provide a form with spaces for the amount of your donation and the names of children. For sons, you can ask that they be accepted to yeshiva. (I understand that girls have a hard time getting into Seminar, but that must happen at a different time of year.) For sons and daughters, you can request that they pass the summer safely, both spiritually and physically. In the haredi world summer vacation for boys lasts for three weeks, although some have shortened it to two.
On another page there’s a form where you can pay NIS 360 and jump the line to ask Rabbi Kanievsky your halachic question.
My kids were disturbed by the following story. When translating I tried to preserve the dramatic tension of Kupat Hair’s writer:
Opposite a Tough Policeman
Sabbath eve. In the car. Safed. M.B. holds the steering wheel with reliable hands and careens quickly through the ancient alleys.
All drivers can tell you of that moment. [???] The unpleasant surprise. When suddenly after an unexpected curve, a police car waits with a flashing blue light and two haughty and cold-faced policemen blocking your way and requesting you to stop.The policeman signals to M. to open the car window. Their equipment proves that the car was traveling at 130 kilometers an hour. The second policeman points coldly to the sign on the other side of the road: “Up to 80 kilometers per hour,” it says clearly and very [very!] sharply.
“First I am cancelling your license for 30 days! You won’t escape trial. You’ll get a summons to come in a month and a half. You traveled 50 kilometers per hour over the speed limit. Pass your license through the window, please.”
M. is very tense. He gives the policeman the documents, and finds himself promising: “Master of the Universe, I donate NIS 36 to Kupat Hair. Just let this story end well.”
What would you say if you had seen this with your own eyes? The policeman, who had promised a moment before to withdraw the license, leans toward the window of the car. “Shabbat shalom,” he says. He returns the license to M. and signals to him to continue driving. No details. No tickets. No court. No license cancellation. Just NIS 36. [A bargain by any standard.]
The car glides forward, a confounded driver holding the wheel, as he hurries to stop in the nearest parking spot to call from Safed to Kupat Hair Bnei Brak. [Presumably he would need to donate again if he wants to call while driving.]
That’s it. No promise to drive more carefully, no remorse, no lesson to others about safe driving. How ironic that they just warned about the dangers of car accidents during the summer months.
In the next issue we can expect to see the following message:
“I hit three children, rachmana letzlan (God should save us), whose parents did not donate to Kupat Hair. Next time I’ll donate before stepping into the car.”
Related:
Chanukah Sameach! My camera is broken and I’m too lazy to scour the net, so you will have to manage without the traditional picture. As compensation I present some links.
A reader sent me the following story:
Two days ago my daughter L’s 8th grade class returned from a field trip at 9:00 PM, so they let the girls come in late the next day. An hour or so before L had to leave, her friend M called her. M was locked in her house! (Most locks in Israel need to be opened with a key even from the inside). She had lent her brother her key, and her parents were at work. Her brother was already at school. L tried to talk M through finding solutions — getting help from her parents, grandmother, aunt, etc. L kept calling back to report no success. Her parents just told her to stay home and not worry about it, and her relatives, who did not have keys to the apartment, pooh-poohed her concerns and told her to enjoy her vacation day. M was scared, and L pointed out that if there was a fire or a gas lehttp://www.amotherinisrael.com/wp-admin/post.php?action=edit&post=572ak — even in a neighbor’s apartment — she would have no way to get out. We suggested that the parents send a key to her by cab, if they didn’t want to interrupt their work day to go themselves. (We keep keys with neighbors, plus we always have a key in the door so we can get out immediately in case of emergency.) M’s parents refused to help her, and stopped answering their cellphones. [MiI: This part bothers me the most.]
L suggested to M that she try calling her father at the medical center where he works. I helped her find the number and called to find the right department. L didn’t want to go off to school and leave her friend stranded, so she decided to take a bus to M’s father, pick up the key, and return to let N out. I allowed her as she wouldn’t miss too much in school, since most of the classes happened not be academic. It was hard for L to find M’s father, but she managed it and released M. By that time it wasn’t worth going to school.
Here is what amazes me:
1. The parents don’t keep a key in the door in case of emergency.
2. The parents refuse to help their daughter when she is locked in her house!
3. The mother called M just before L left our house, and said she would call the father and let him know L was on her way. He was apparently in a meeting and only his wife could interrupt him, not his kids. In the end, he was surprised to see L and hadn’t realized she was coming. But why wasn’t the mother embarrassed that her daughter’s friend was missing school to take care of her daughter because her own parents wouldn’t?!I have not yet heard from the parents, and haven’t asked L if she did. I suggested to L that she tell M to make two copies of her housekey, with her own money if necessary.
Kol hakavod (kudos) to L’s mother for taking care of her daughter’s abandoned friend, and teaching them both an important lesson.
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