On the way to school Monday my son Benson, who turns 7 on Saturday, was upset, asking me over and over: “Why do people litter?”A few hours later, his sprightly, sensitive little brain was processing another level of horror, that a man had stormed a U.S. school and shot 20 little kids — kids like him — to death.
My wife and I had chosen to not tell Ben about the Connecticut massacre. Newspapers were flipped, radios hushed.
What lessons could he learn from this bloodbath? We were mindful that his 4-year-old sister has been clinging to us, afraid to sleep alone, in the two months since she spied the Wicked Witch of the West on TV at her school.
I was shocked when, at 2:54 p.m. Monday, I received an email from the vice-principal of my son’s Riverdale school with the ominous subject line: “Sandy Hook information.”
It noted some teachers across the city wore black armbands. At our school, many parents, staff and teachers arrived with questions. The school had a moment of silence and a “brief announcement” to mark the tragedy.
“Although some parents have tried to shield their children from this tragedy, others have not and many students of all ages wanted to discuss these events,” the email said. “Teachers were given guidance on how to deal with the tragedy and we have trusted them today to help students who may need to talk.”
My wife called the principal, who said lots of kids were talking about it in the lineup into school (which Ben missed because we were a bit late) and “You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”
Some parents had let their kids watch extensive TV coverage of the shooting, she added, noting: “I couldn’t even watch any of it, it was just too awful.” On that, we are with her.
From friends it became apparent some schools told all kids, some told some kids, and some told none. My wife emailed Ben’s teacher, whom we love, to learn exactly what was said. We haven’t heard back yet.
When I picked up Ben he happily burbled about his Scholastic order and the new spy handbook you can lock shut. Sometimes he’s in his own world; maybe he tuned out the discussion.
He seemed fine until bedtime, when I was reading from his world records book about the great white shark — the oceans’ fiercest predator that sometimes attacks people. At that, Ben’s head dropped. “Daddy, I heard something at school today.” My heart sank.
Ben does not live in a bubble. He hears CBC Radio and asks questions. He knows that Charles Taylor, the former Liberian president, is imprisoned for his role in terrible war crimes. We have talked about the Holocaust.
I asked what he heard about the shooting. He got the facts mostly right. We talked about why somebody would kill little kids, about mental illness, about how sometimes there are no good answers.
It was late. He was tired. I asked how he felt. “Scared?” And: “Sad for some reason.” I took him in my arms and we fell asleep together.
A friend posted on Facebook that she had decided against telling her two young girls because she wanted them to think of school as a safe place.
But after school, one said: “I don’t like this world — too many people kill each other.” The other asked: “What if someone tries to come shoot us? We should get a gun so we can shoot them back.” Sigh.
TDSB education director Chris Spence told me more parents praised his guest column in the Sunday Star on how to talk to kids about the tragedy than complained about massacre talk at school.
The board has no set policy for discussion of traumatic news events. At our school, he said, teachers felt the talk was “everywhere” so they had to act. “You’ve got to believe in our teachers and our principals and to rely on their professional judgment.”
Spence asked for my thoughts.
I said: “With a really young kid it’s my decision, the parents’ decision — not the teacher’s — whether to tell them a madman went into a school and shot 20 kids — kids like them — to death. If Ben hears chatter, I’ll deal with it at home.
“We made a parenting decision and your board overruled us.”
The line was quiet for a few seconds. We thanked each other and hung up.
Original Article
Source: the star
Author: David Rider
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