Never Say Die

I’m totally watching Goonies as I write this. One of my favorite movies from my childhood. A bunch of great one-liners.

Remember these ones? “Goonies never say die.”

And.

“Up there it’s their time, but down here it’s our time.”

I think those two lines are relevant to Monday’s post. I had another blog all scheduled for today, but after some of Monday’s comments, I had to touch on this subject once more. (Well, I didn’t have to, per se, but I wanted to, so.)

The thing is, about the time we’ve spent a handful of years working hard, paid a small fortune towards education, and maybe even started families, we’ve unknowingly somehow lost that childlike confidence we had as teens. It’s not something any one person did to us, or even something I think we can avoid necessarily. Life happens. Sometimes things suck. We have to learn, and so learn we do. Up here, it’s our time.

But down there, in teen-ager-hood, life is all about who likes who and who said what on FB, and who attended what party and who got arrested for possession (yes, I said possession). But that’s not all. It’s also about discovering their strengths, their interests, and at some point, figuring out what they really truly want to do with their lives. A great many of them make a lot of these discoveries through books, music, arts, sports, and other mediums often explored in the halls of a high school. But those mediums can only take them so far.

That’s where we—the parents and grownups in their lives—come in. Regardless of what we have chosen for our life paths, we have the power to give them the tools they need to choose their own. By taking risks, by working hard, by doing all the hard things we never thought possible, we teach them by example to never stop pursuing that dream—however elusive it may seem. And rather than telling them, “That’s too hard,” or, “You’re not good enough,” maybe we should be telling them, “It’ll be a lot of work, but you can handle it,” and, “Keep going. I believe in you.”

It’s a win-win, don’t you think? Because we all need someone to believe in us, someone who will remind us to never say die.

Who is that someone for you?

Fast Food Chain Taking Over the World = Disturbing

Remember my son Doc? (Why, yes, I am a dork who has named my kids after cartoon dwarfs.) He’s my brainstormer, the one I go to when I have plot issues, or when I hit a block and need a good shot of creativity. He’s an avid reader, so his thoughts are linear, and however fantastical, tend to make sense in context with character and plot.

Doc wrote a short story the other day for an assignment. It was a group assignment, written by 4 boys, so naturally, it involved a fast food chain taking over the world by selling brainwashing food. Not at all shocking to this mother.

He’s always been an excellent writer and English student. It’s a natural strength. He is, after all, my son.

*beams with pride*

But. This particular story was given bad marks. Doc came home, disgusted with his teacher—not for the marks themselves, but for the reasoning behind them, which made no sense to him. He ticked off on his fingers each requirement, which was in his paper. Still, the page bled with green slashes, and in large letters down the side, the teacher had written “DISTURBING.”

His question to me was, “Mom, aren’t teachers supposed to read books? Like, real ones?”

Why yes, son, yes they are. Especially English and literacy teachers. In fact, teachers should—theoretically—read at least some of the books their students are reading. In my opinion. Call me crazy.

Having the word “DISTURBING” written in large green letters down the side of the page discouraged those four boys, though, being that they're not exactly writing for pleasure, they probably don't realize why.

So here’s my question to you. Does any influential adult (teacher, parent, grandparent, guardian, second cousin once removed) have the right to censor the work of a child if that work has followed the given guidelines in every aspect other than meeting the tastes of the adult in question?

And if they do, does doing so feel reminiscent, eerily similar even, to banning books?


**More about this subject Friday, wherein I will discuss the things these boys are most likely reading.