Post Submitted By Tom Wilbur

Birth.  Life.  Death.  The cycle of life, in three words.

From the moment we are born, we are created by God to grow—in stature, skills, understanding, wisdom, maturity, and spirituality.  He has given us the tools to embrace the day and make a difference in the lives of each person we meet.  The opportunity to love and share, create and nurture, need and provide.  And then, interestingly enough, we’re given these physical bodies we inhabit, and then we die.

Some of us hit life’s snooze button early on—we’re pacing ourselves, and anxious to get the day over with as fast as possible.  Others are as energized about this day at age 95, as they were when they first appeared to the world from their mother’s womb.  We have met these people on occasion, and they are incredibly interesting, dynamic and fun.

Still others seem to be driven to make positive changes in all that they touch.  Their world may revolve around a specific place— maybe their home town is their sphere of influence.  Or an industry.  Or people of their same race or ethnicity.  Or their church.   Or the classroom.  But they are engaged, and involved in creating an environment for a better life….for everyone.

It seems to me that these days, we feel compelled to teach our children that they should learn about events and places and things—and that all children should be brought up to be able to recite certain stuff.  And place a lean mark in a multiple choice circle on an exam.  We present information, and then we test kids on it—feeling that there’s a requirement to place a quantitative standard in place– and gauge how we are doing in comparison to each other.  No Child Left Behind might fall in that category.  Or ACT tests.  Or simple assessment grades.

I am fascinated by a quote my brother, Paul, recently shared with me, by Pablo Casals, the Spanish cellist, who said:

Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children?  We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France.  When will we also teach them what they are?

We should say to each of them:  Do you know what you are?  You are a marvel.  You are unique.  In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you.  Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move.

You may become a Shakespeare, a Michaelangelo, a Beethoven.  You have the capacity for anything.  Yes, you are a marvel.  And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel?  You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.

We are all marvelous creatures, with a string of a million moments that make up our existence. The challenge Casals sets forward is– as he states: We must . . . make the world worthy of its children.  I wonder what kind of grade we should give ourselves on that one?

Do we provide a world of love, opportunity and support for our children?  Do we demonstrate values like integrity, grace, and humility in serving others?  Do we create an environment that develops the core being of our children, instead of making them into recitation devices?  Is there a way for us to measure how well we are doing in that regard, or is it even necessary?  Do we provide the appropriate opportunities to allow them to develop, first as a child, learning to adapt to their surroundings?  Do they have time to play, and explore?  Or do we as adults live our lives vicariously through them, with tethers, restraints, and boundaries based upon our own notions of who they should become?

I grew up in a time and space where kids actually went outside for the day just to be outside.  I know it’s hard to imagine.  We interacted with other little humans, instead of hiding behind electronic devices.  We could carry on a conversation.

We built treehouses, and had Kool-Aid stands.  We played in the mud and the water of a recent rain— chased frogs, and dug up earthworms.  We had to be accountable to the moment, and to each other . . . lest someone scrape their knee, or fall from their bike. Sometimes we ventured a little too far, and did something so bad, we got a spanking.   Yep, a spanking.

We kicked the ball up and down the street with the other kids in the neighborhood, and lived in homes where the front door was rarely locked, and where children were safe to roam.  And when it got really hot on a Kansas summer day, we’d drink water from the hose outside, or maybe come inside for a while and play board games, or read books—delighting in a cool glass of sweet tea from a neighborhood Mom’s pitcher in the fridge.

Watch TV all day?  Unthinkable. Spend more than a minute of two on the phone?  We couldn’t.  We had a thing called a party line, and had to share.  Ship inappropriate movies into our homes?  Never happened.  We were kids, and were allowed to be kids for a while—as we developed our minds, and grew.

Take kids out of church on Sundays to play organized sports? The reverse was true—in order to be in a league in our home town, you were required to attend Sunday school—at least if you intended to participate in organized sports through the Y.M.C.A.

Obesity in children was the exception to the rule.  So were non-nuclear families.  Divorce and bankruptcy happened occasionally, not the majority of the time.  People paid their debts, and there were consequences for not doing so.

I guess I’m just an old fogey now, yearning for simpler times for our children . . . times when we were actually allowed to be kids— and allowed the time to look at the sky above and contemplate, instead of beating yet another level on a handheld video game, or being overwhelmed with nightly homework.

Maybe there ought to be a class in school called, “Play, Dream, and Achieve”.  We wouldn’t need to give out a grade.  It would be, what it is . . . simply giving kids time to process life.  And every so often, a child could actually be left behind, to allow more time and more space for their aspirations and goals to be developed, nourished, and supported. More time for their developing brains to mature—without fear of retribution, or feeling inadequate based upon a set of scores.  More time to think, and dream, and run, and jump, and play.  After all, what’s the hurry?

We could create such a world for our children.  We should create such a world for our children.

Think of the possibilities.

tw

Tom Wilbur is President/CEO of BANK VI in Salina.  He is a lifelong resident of Salina, is a graduate of the University of Kansas, and has been a regular editorial contributor to newspapers and magazines.  He can be contacted at [email protected]