Dark Clouds on the Horizon
October 23, 1999
Two news stories gripped me
this week: One that we can't do anything about, and another we're
not doing anything about. Well, not productively, anyway.
Wednesday,
teams of counselors swept into storm-weary communities in North
Carolina where three hurricanes blasted the shore, flooding the
regions two to three miles inward. First came Dennis, not content
to damage the area on the way North, but hitting the same spots
on the way back. Floyd was close in its wake and with Georgia's
extensive evacuation headlining news and weather reports, North
Carolina was totally taken by surprise as Floyd changed course.
The
order to evacuate immediately came to people still walking in
water up to their ankles from Dennis. Officials shouted, "Go,
go, go. Move, forget the pets, go, go, go, c'mon, move it," and
they did. And the kids followed along, frightened -- they didn't
have to hear it twice after the earlier storm. In the immediate
weeks following there came threats of flooding from runoff drains
into Cape Fear already expected to crest at eight feet above flood
stage.
Next
came Hurricane Irene. This one brushed over Miami at 40 MPH, continuing
much weaker up the coast until it reached North Carolina and dropped
11 inches of rain. With this, the Red Cross sent more mental health
experts to the region than were sent following the Oklahoma City
bombing in 1995.
Serious
concerns arise when adults in the communities have to not only
clean up the mess, but be an employee somewhere and also be Mom
or Dad or son or daughter. They have to deal with the dead animals,
the smell from a flooded sewage plant and the everyday exigencies
of life played with one eye out the window to see what's going
to come next.
The
experts will ease the children through the transition from having
a home to losing it all. Adults can say, "At least we have each
other," knowing what that means in the larger picture. Kids are
numb. They've been torn out of their homes, their schools, their
rooms. Where's their "stuff?"
Counselors
report that when these children see dark clouds on the horizon,
they panic.
What
did I fear when I was nine? After a lot of thought, I may have
been afraid I'd be late for school, or fail a test, or be caught
in a lie to my Mom, or, if I were running home a little late from
Hide & Seek, that the bogeyman might get me. But, hurricanes?
No.
Oh,
they came, but without warning, and they left in their own good
time. Until we later saw downed trees and flooded basements, we
just said. "It looks like rain." Of course, a child then knew
a heavy rain meant racing raindrops down the windowpane, sailing
Popsicle sticks in the curbside streams and splashing in the newly-made
puddles. I wouldn't know how to face the fears confronting children
worldwide today.
During
that same morning news was the announcement that October 21st
was the Day of National Concern. According to Mavis Tsai, chief
volunteer coordinator for the event, "The Day of National Concern
is about the transformation that can take place when millions
of people throw their weight behind an issue." It's a day for
students "to feel connectiveness, sisterhood and brotherhood."
The students sign a pledge, making a promise to protect one another's
lives.
That's
all I heard about this Day of National Concern. What was the pledge?
I looked it up. "I will never bring a gun to school; I will never
use a gun to settle a dispute; I will use my influence with my
friends to keep them from using guns to settle disputes. My individual
choices and actions, when multiplied by those of young people
throughout the country, will make a difference. Together, by honoring
this pledge, we can reverse the violence and grow up in safety."
After
an identifying name, grade, school, signature and date, this would
be sent to the President of the United States and the Mayor of
their city.
Along
with finding the pledge, I discovered the first Day of National
Concern was approved by the Senate following a request by Senators
Arlen Spector and Bill Bradley. That pledge was supposedly spoken
by all high school students two years before Columbine. This week,
I saw no pictures of students clasping hands and circling their
schools in a show of concern. Not newsworthy, I guess. Well, kids
do like to get their pictures in the paper, one way or another.
Along
with background on the origin of this exercise, I found statistics
on guns in school, in backpacks and lockers and car trunks. There
were more statistics and studies than you can read in a day and
yet few reports of what's being done.
I
suspect if you ask any gun-toting adolescent why he's carrying
a gun he'll say, "for protection."
Ask
anyone who just shot someone why he did it, he'll say, "He made
me mad." Yet there is research "... designed to improve understanding
of the motivations and deterrents for weapon carrying behavior
among adolescents at high risk for firearm-related injuries."
This from School Health Policies and Programs Study (SHPPS).
These
news stories are about our children and the lives they lead. We
can't do anything about natural disasters except prepare for them.
We can certainly do more than observe the problem of guns in school.
Six months to the day after Columbine, and on the Day of National
Concern, a student suggested someone should "finish the job" his
friends started with the massacre. Did he pledge?
Joe
Clark comes to mind. He's the New Jersey High School principal
that then Secretary of Education William Bennett praised as a
model leader. Mr. Clark locked out the troublemakers and ruled
the halls with a baseball bat. Sounds like a plan!
And,
as for the Day of National Concern and all that hand holding,
well, that sounds like a prayer.
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