Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Throwback (Wednes)day: This Squirrely World

Have I mentioned that I was a troublemaker throughout my school years?  One day in 11th grade, our teacher left us with a substitute and a writing assignment.  I really didn't feel like doing the writing assignment.  Everyone in the class secretly agreed that we'd somehow add in squirrels into our essays.  The rest of the class wrote the proper essay and snuck in a squirrel reference, and I wrote...this.

This Squirrely World

I was going to write on a different topic, but it was really depressing and I hate being depressed.  I therefore decided to disregard that idea, even though I had an excellent opening sentence.  Bright and cheery things are much better to write about.  So here is the brightest and the cheeriest incident that actually occurred about which I am willing to write.

When I was in fourth grade, I used to wait outside my apartment building every morning for the school van to pick me up.  I studied the grass and the trees for lack of anything better to do.  One morning a squirrel caught my attention.  At first it was just running around the base of a tall tree, but then it stopped.  I watched in fascination as the squirrel stood up on its hind legs and supported itself with one of its forelegs against the tree.  It looked just like a human causally leaning against a wall.  I half expected the squirrel to cross its legs.

When I reached seventh grade, I had a teacher who was afraid of squirrels.  Directly outside her classroom window was a tree that was home to an entire family of squirrels.  Every time she caught sight of one of the creatures, she would shudder and turn away.  If a window was open, she would get very antsy and tense until it was closed, barring all squirrels from entering her safe haven.  She was definitely terrified of squirrels.  Oh well.  That's what you get from growing up in New York. J

Squirrels are actually not terribly smart, and they never learned the basics of safety: only cross streets in the crosswalks and when the light is green.  Squirrels just don't get it.  That's why so many of them wind up as road decorations.  Even so, they are really cute.

If everyone in the world was like squirrels, few technological advancements would occur, people would keep dying off from their own stupidity, and disease would quickly spread through the rotting carcasses.  Thankfully, humans have more sense than squirrels.

Squirrels can actually be quite useful.  A parent can point at a squirrel and say to her child, "See that squirrel, Katie?  Never do what that squirrel is doing.  We only cross streets at the crosswalk when the light is green."  And then the children will learn.  "Look at that dead squirrel in the street, Katie.  He wasn't following the basic rules of safety."

Okay, so maybe this isn't as bright and happy as I had predicted.  Oops.

My various experiences with squirrels have taught me not to model my behavior after that of animals.  Even though they sometimes show human like characteristics, they are not humans.  Personally, I think that I'm better at not getting myself killed than the animals are.

So, about this contraction thing.  Oh, yeah, and this 'thing' thing.  I agree that contractions are not appropriate in formal writing.  But come on, who would actually consider this piece to be formal?  I certainly don't.  And I will agree that the word 'thing' is about as non-specific as you can get, but sometimes it just fits really well.

Back to squirrels.  As cute as they are, they aren't very smart/  And they can be a real nuisance if they get into your attic or your walls and wake people up in the middle of the night.

There are many people in this world who are just like squirrels.  I think that the human race would be better off without them.  Unfortunately, to search out such people and kill them would be too hard and unethical.  Also, it is impossible to insure that none of them reproduce.  And then how can we decide how squirrely is too squirrely?  It is completely impossible.
 
Squirrels shall live on in the human race until the end of time.

Saturday, January 2, 2016

Some Secrets Shouldn't be Kept

I remembered this story today and wanted to share it, because there's an important parenting lesson in here.

In 7th grade, a new girl joined our school. She didn't quite fit in - and I'm assuming she hadn't at her previous school either, hence the move - but it was a small school and we were all friendly, and although we weren't "besties" we did become pretty good friends. One day in art class she told me she wanted to hurt herself or kill herself (I can't remember exactly). Somehow I was able to keep my composure and tell her she really didn't want to do that, but without freaking out at her the way I was freaking out inside. First chance I could slip away, I went and told my teacher privately. The girl did wind up in a psychiatric hospital for treatment, I believe, and she actually didn't finish out the year at our school. She for sure wasn't back for 8th grade.

As a 13-year-old I could have easily brushed it off as a joke, not taken her seriously, or been too scared to tell anyone else. And who knows if she would have gone through with anything? But something in my upbringing told me better safe than sorry, I must take her seriously and get help ASAP. I seem to remember she got angry with me for breaking her confidence.  

It's important that our kids know that even if someone gets angry with us for doing the right thing, that doesn't excuse us from doing the right thing.

It took me hours today to remember her name, and now that I have I can't find her on FB or Google. I sincerely hope that's simply a matter of little internet presence or a name change due to marriage, but it also haunts me that I'd almost forgotten about her entirely and I don't know what the end of her story was. Did I listen in time? Was she so depressed by the time she said anything to me that she could never quite dig herself out of that hole? Or did she find a light in her life, the light that was already shining bright inside of her but that she couldn't see?

T.A., there's no way you're reading this, but I'm thinking of you today...