What The Hunger Games is Teaching My Children

Since the release of The Hunger Games movie, I’ve seen a lot of controversial conversations happening online. People love it. People hate it. People are disturbed by the very idea of having children see such a movie, or adults for that matter. Children forced to kill each other? No way.

Except I WANT my kids to read the books AND see the movie. I WANT them to think about the effects of war. I want them to realize that not every adult who tries to force them to do something has their best interests in mind. I want them to learn to think for themselves, believe for themselves, hope for themselves. I want my kids to figure out how to survive in the wilds of the real world—whatever that world is like when they get there.

Three of my four kids read the book before we saw the movie. And they GOT IT. Even my youngest (11) understands that it is truly not a story about kids killing kids, but of kids learning how their actions can change things. They can change themselves, their families, their communities, society, and yes, they can change the world.

What’s more, I think that as the series progresses, as they find out what happens next, they’ll see what hatred and war can do, how it can destroy people, and also how hope can give them the power to rebuild.

Granted, this is not a story for little people (as mentioned above, my youngest is almost 12). And it’s not something anyone should read or watch hoping for any kind of lightheartedness. It’s a heavy subject. It’s a heartbreaking subject. This story stabs us in the heart and twists until the very end. But it’s a beautiful story of hope, determination, and love.

In case you haven’t read my blog header, those things are important themes in my life. Themes I want my children to really get. So yes, I took them to the midnight premier. Yes, we discussed all these things, and yes, I’m quite certain they understand why this movie (and the book series) is so big and so important to me.

Because some stories are more than mere stories. They’re lessons we should all learn, even the young.

So what about you? Did you go? Would you take your tween?

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?

A Teaching Opportunity

(Or Pay it Forward...)
By Nichole Giles

Saturdays are generally busy at our house. There’s always a sports game to attend or play, birthday parties, teenagers with plans, and someone who needs a ride somewhere. It’s the day set aside for yard work, laundry, and anything else that doesn’t get done earlier in the week.

This past Saturday was no different. While I ran the kids around taking care of some errands, Gary mowed the lawn. Our plan was to meet at home by 2:00 so we could get our oldest daughter to a basketball tournament in another city and both watch her play, but when 2:00 came around, I was home, and Gary wasn’t.

He called, though. “Hi,” he said. “I took the grass out to the green-waste plant, and while I was there, a guy accidentally locked his keys in his truck—and his toddler son.”

“Uh, oh,” I said. “That’s not good.”

“Nope,” he said. “They called the police, but since it’s on the borders of three different cities, they’re all fighting over who has to go. Not only that, dispatch got the address wrong and sent them to the dump.”

“That stinks,” I said, meaning it literally. If you’ve ever been to a green-waste/ sewer plant, you know exactly what I was talking about. Poor guy.

“Anyway,” Gary continued, “have everyone who’s going to the game ready, and when I get there, I’ll grab the Slim-Jim out of my patrol car and stop to help him on our way. Otherwise, that poor kid will be stuck in that truck all day.”

When he got home, we all piled in our truck, and Gary took the time to grab his Slim-Jims and lock picking tools. (Because you never know when a cop’s going to go criminal. Kidding.) By now we were feeling fairly rushed—knowing Brittany had to be to her game a few minutes early. But—as we explained to her—sometimes you stop what you’re doing to help someone else. Even if it makes you late.

We drove in through the exit (to surpass an enormous long line) and zipped right up to the distressed father. Gary shoved a wedge in his window, popped the lock, and shook his hand—it all took a total of about two minutes—and we were on our way again, glad to be able to breathe through our noses as soon as we drove away.

As we left, Madison asked, “Daddy, why did you help that man?”

He looked at me, and I looked at him, both understanding that this was one of those teaching opportunities we sometimes come across as parents. He said, “Heavenly Father helps us all, but most of the time it’s through other people. It was our turn to answer someone’s prayer today, and when you get an opportunity like that, you always take it.”

I nodded, adding, “You never know when someone else will be sent to answer one of your prayers. Would you want them to ignore the opportunity?”

“Besides,” Brittany piped up, “how would you like to be stuck standing outside the truck smelling that?”

Madison wrinkled her nose. “Ew, no. That’s disgusting. That place reeks.” She patted Gary on the shoulder. “That was nice of you, Dad.”

And that was the end of the discussion. We made it to the basketball game—not only on time, but early, as we’d meant—and our day continued without even a slight hitch. It didn’t hurt us one bit to go back and help that person and his child, but it did give us a rare opportunity to teach our children how important it is to help others—even strangers.

And, you know, it doesn’t hurt our karma, either. One more thing I absolutely believe in. Pay it forward, and it will always come back.