“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.
Reaching up in my closet for my sewing bag, I asked my then-six year old son, “Do you want me to teach you how to sew?”
“No,” he said, with an edge in his voice of “And why would I?”
But as I settled down on the couch, his attitude shifted. He wandered over, asking, “Can I see what you’re doing?”
“I’m sure the mayor will respond to you – they love getting stuff from kids,” I promised my kids, crossing my fingers. In the back of my head, I thought “Damn right, she better.”
I was trying to convince them to write letters to our local city government officials about climate change. While heavy topics like climate change can seem scary for adults to talk to kids about, finding ways to empower kids can help them be much less anxiety-inspiring. When kids know that they are not helpless – that they can make a difference and that their parents want to do it with them – they can tackle hard topics much better than we would expect.
“I just want to raise my kids to be kind,” the Facebook comment read.
My eyebrow raised. This comment followed a back and forth between me and the commenter. That conversation was sparked by her complaining that she was sick of people trying to shame white people. That comment was in response to a thought-provoking post about racism that wasn’t shaming. Trying to provide an alternative perspective, I explained because of the unjust systems we live in that we all have some level of racism and we actively have to work to be anti-racist. She basically said that she was disgusted at me trying to create conflict and would raise her kids to be “color-blind.” And then she dropped that line on me about “raising her kids to be kind.”
Really? Really?!
