“You’re so brave,” said a woman on the sidewalk as I pedaled by her slowly. Her words came right on the heels of me tearing into my older son about not screwing around while biking in the road. (He was riding so slowly I was almost crashing into him and swerving.) “Uh, thanks?” I stammered, not sure what else to say.
While I didn’t have much to respond in the moment, the comment stuck with me. Brave? What did she mean by that?
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Are you a tired person? (Probably – if you’re reading my blog, you’re probably a parent or somehow responsible for small kids.) Do you want to take action on climate change? (Even if you don’t, you should!) If both of these things – or neither – apply to you, be sure to check out the Climate Action for Tired People: A Toolkit and Quiz for Parents and Others! Developed by climate communicator and therapist Kate Schapira in collaboration with me, it helps you figure out where you fit in the climate justice movement and how to use your skills effectively.
“Shhh, be quiet, she’s trying to do work,” a mom said to her preschooler, a few feet away from me. I glanced up from my laptop and winced, realizing I was the “she” the mom was referring to.
I sighed. I didn’t want to undermine her, but neither did I actually want her kid to be quiet. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Under the little girl’s steady hand before me, I saw a world emerging. A world that’s more environmentally and socially sustainable, powered by solar panels and windmills, with lots of ways to get around besides cars. All laid out there in marker.
This was just one of many amazing examples I got when I asked kids to envision their ideal city. I did two different book promotion events – one at a spring festival at our local nature center and one at a book festival – and had this visioning activity to engage kids walking by. (It’s the activity in the last chapter of my book!)
“After a while, are they just sick of it? Are they just like, ‘Not another climate march!’?” an interviewer asked me on a podcast about my book.
That question came back to me on Bike to School Day, after we had stood in the drizzly rain that morning.
Two small heads, one brown-haired, one baby-blond turning brown. Both buried in books, racking up minutes for their school’s Read-A-Thon. Two bodies, snuggled on the couch, not arguing or bouncing. A rare moment where they’re both still.
I blink.
Images of crying parents and classmates next to a brick wall. Outside of an elementary school. Police tape and sirens. News headlines.
My breath catches.
“31 students, that’s pretty good, considering the weather!” I breathed a sigh of relief looking at the sign-in sheet for our school’s first Bike to School Day. It wasn’t torrential rain, but I was worried that even the gray drizzle would be enough to warn people off. But we had a full bike rack and a number of happy kids with Safe Routes to School goodie bags.
The event was a result of a few months of direct work, but even more organizing time before that. This was the first year I had truly been involved in organizing at my kids’ school. Even though I wrote in my book about how to make your kids’ school more environmentally friendly, it was all based on expert interviews, not personal experience.
In working with our school and school district this year, I learned quite a few things first-hand about general advocacy in schools and bike advocacy specifically.
I started telling my husband something, but like always, my kids were listening. My kids are always listening, unless it involves something we need them to do.
I was telling my husband about how I had answered a question on Facebook – one that the original poster probably meant as a hypothetical. I said, “So they asked, ‘Why did we all have to learn square dancing?’ It was probably meant as a joke, but I replied – in all seriousness – “Because of racism and anti-Semitism.”
“And make sure not to get Kelloggs,” I commented to my husband as we were putting together the grocery list.
“Why not Kellogg’s?” my older son said, looking up from his book.
“Well, the people who work for Kelloggs are on strike. That means they aren’t working because they want better work conditions, like better pay. Remember in Click Clack Moo: Cows that Type?” I explained, referencing a hilarious children’s book. In it, the cows and chickens go on strike and refuse to give the farmer eggs and milk until he gives them electric blankets. They use an old typewriter to express their concerns. We’ve read it a bunch of times.
“So Bowser would be chaotic evil, right?” my older son asked as we sat on our front steps, referring to the villain of his favorite Mario Bros video games.
“Hmmm, I think so. He just wants to cause chaos and hurt people rather than follow any laws while doing so. Maybe neutral evil,” I replied, talking in terms of the alignment chart from Dungeons and Dragons.