On Holding One's Tongue

I picked up my son at school today and his teacher pulled me aside to tell me that there were some other teachers at the school who were worried about my son's "unnatural" fascination with violence. Say what?? Thankfully, she understands that 1) he's a very verbal precocious child who expresses himself as if he were several years older and 2) he's got a brother in third grade who gives him a lot of info that some of the first-born classmates may not have. Seems someone got their knickers in a twist because he wrote a story about making "girl poison." The exact text was: I NED TO ENVNT A POYZN FOR GLZ.

They're concerned because he wrote that he doesn't like girls, Barbies, or skirts. They're concerned because he wrote about making poison. He's six years old for crying out loud! When I was six years old, boys and girls being disgusted with one another was simply de rigueur. The poison idea? He's a big fan of shows like Dexter's Laboratory, Pinky & The Brain, and Jimmy Neutron. My son, the mad scientist. I fought the urge to freak everyone's shit out with his elaborate plan for an "acid gun" from a few days ago. That idea got scrapped because he figured the gun would melt in your hand. Back to the drawing board.

So I'm listening to all of this, trying so hard not to say a thing. I did manage to choke out a "thank you for letting me know, I'll speak with him" and not vomit on anyone. I figured I'd better just get out with a Stepford smile on my face before I got a lecture on school violence and Columbine. I didn't think it would go over well to get into it with some bored counselor who wants to see troubled children whereever she looks. I knew that I wouldn't resist being snarky and letting slip that I'd actually been an invited speaker at an FBI symposium on school violence, where we dealt with real problems (like Columbine and Arkansas). There is nothing so irritating as what I call the Barney Fife syndrome. You see it all sorts of places, but these twits abound in the suburban schools. The other week a pair of kids were arrested in 8th grade for a couple of twenty dollar bags of weed and it was practically a friggin' SWAT operation. I'm the last person to condone drugs at school, but the approach was a bit heavy-handed for my taste.

I said I would speak to him and I did.

Mom: Jacob, your teacher told me you wanted to make girl poison. Did you write that in your journal?

Jacob: Yeah, but it's just pretend, Mom (looking at me and speaking slowly like he's explaining something to a retarded person). It's just a story and it would only make them go to sleep.

Mom: Okay, but you can't write stuff like that at school. That sort of thing freaks these people out, so you need to stop it, understand?

Jacob: Yes, I understand. I'll only write nice things from now on. (Long pause) I thought that grown-ups were supposed to understand the difference between the real world and a story world.


I understand where this sort of concern comes from on one level, but when did it stop being okay for kids to be kids?