The exact numbers weren’t easy to read, but the graph lines showing the poll results were clear – the majority of the folks at the public meeting were white. Looking around the packed high school cafeteria confirmed that fact.
My mind returned to the graph we had seen a few moments earlier. In bright colors, it laid out the racial make-up of the students in my kids’ school district: 28% white, 31% Hispanic, 22% Black, 15% Asian, and 5% “other.”
Hmmmm.
“Just do the next right thing,” Anna sobs as she pulls herself up rock by rock towards the entrance of the cave she’s stuck in. Watching Frozen II on the big screen, I was too enthralled by her crisis to think about how her song related to me. But later, when I was re-listening to the song with my kids, the power of that message hit me. I choked up a bit as I watched the bouncing ball bop atop the words on the sing-along YouTube video.
I too have sat on the floor and cried “I don’t know what to do.” I too have stared miserably in the distance, incapacitated by the seeming lack of a path forward.
“He said his favorite time of day is when he’s going to bed and gets to talk to mommy for a while,” said the text from my husband, referencing my three year old son.
Kid, why don’t you just stab me in the heart again?
“Hmmm, do I really want to go?” I thought to myself as I read the email invitation to my work’s Native American Heritage Month celebration. “Sometimes these things are good – sometimes they’re really not.” I twisted my mouth in contemplation. “Oh, what the heck,” I finally decided and walked downstairs to the auditorium.
“Noooooo,” my older son yelped as we got near the front of the ride, backing away.
My first reaction was annoyance. I thought, “We’ve talked about this for weeks, if not months, and you’re going to back out now?” We were about to get on Space Mountain at Disneyland, my favorite roller coaster in the world. Riding on the one at Magic Kingdom when I was in third grade captured my imagination and sparked an unexpected love of thrill rides. My son – who loves roller coasters – had been desperately looking forward to it. Or at least he had until right then.
“Come over here!” my husband called to me and my younger son as we dawdled down the trail.
“What?” I yelled back, squinting at him and my older son.
“Just come look!” he said.
As I approached the playground sandbox, I spotted my six- year-old marching away from it with purpose. My husband followed close behind. “We’ll find it!” he proclaimed.
“Find what?” I asked.
“The ball! We don’t know where it went,” my husband responded. Oops.
“I, uh, gave it away,” I admitted.
I tell stories that help us all work to be kinder to our families, communities and our broader world. I support families being more environmentally and socially sustainable through advice, resources, and encouragement based on solid social science and expertise. My science communication builds knowledge of and wonder for our natural world and appreciation for those who seek to understand it.
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“He’s so smart!” said the man sitting next me on the plane, referring to my older son. “I can tell by the questions he’s asking.”
“Uh, thanks,” I replied. To me, intelligence is a bit like physical beauty – nice to have, but not something I as a parent can take credit for, per say.
“What is it? Please tell me,” my six year old asked, his eyes wide.
“No, it’s too sad,” I replied. I had been telling my husband about news involving the Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids to deport undocumented immigrants. My speaking in veiled terms sparked my son’s interest. Telling him it was too sad for him only fueled his curiosity more.