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The dream becomes a nightmare |
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| Walk through the doors and enter the hallway of Southgate Elementary School. You'll see drawings on the wall outside each classroom. The hallways of any school are where children hang drawings they want to show the world. At Southgate, you see the kind of crayon artistry that adults expect to see. It's the kind of cheerful art that adults want to see because it means that the children are having fun. Smiling snowmen. Happy hobbits. Next to the snowmen is a more sobering sight. There are paper plates with writing on them. Each one bears a message from a first-grader. Each one carries a message to all of us. The message hit Principal J. Bruce Piland with the power of a bullet. He had been reading a story in our paper about local gangs. The story listed the names of people who had been arrested. Piland recognized the name of one of the gang members. The boy had attended Southgate. Piland was thinking that day about the story, and remembering the boy ... now a man in serious trouble. Then Piland walked by the project from Patricia Fife's first grade class. The messages tell us what is in Lakewood's future. And they tell us what's in America's future. Fife's class read a book about Martin Luther King for his birthday holiday. Fife got the idea for an activities from a teachers' magazine. The magazine suggested asking children to color King's face and then finish this sentence, "My dream is ..." Fife said the magazine warned teachers that they might get ideas like "...peace in Bosnia." A couple of the Southgate wishes were what you might expect. One kid wished for a new car. Another wished that King's dreams would come true. Here are representative samples of what the other children wished for. Please remember these are first graders. They aren't even old enough to write the words themselves. "I dream that people will stop shooting guns." 6 years old. "I dream that people will quit killing." 6 years old. "I dream that people will quit killing the team (if you quit, you get killed) 6 years old. "I dream that the bad people will stop killing." 6 years old. "I dream that people will stop getting guns." 6 years old. "I dream that people could be safe." 6 years old. "I dream that kids will stop fighting." 6 years old. "I dream that the killing will stop." 6 years old. "I dream that people will stop selling drugs." 6 years old. "I dream that people would not steal things from my dad's car." 6 years old. "I dream that people will stop killing and fighting each other. 6 years old. "I dream that kids will stop killing each other." 6 years old. "I dream that people will stop the violence." 6 years old. "I dream that people will stop shooting other people." 6 years old. Piland says, "It's sad that kids have dreams like this. Why not dream about having a Schwinn bike or whatever the hell kids are supposed to dream about? "These are so deeply serious. These are younger kids who have a life like (the man arrested for gang activity). If things don't change, they will stay the same. And they will get worse." Fife says that she did her best to get the kids to lighten up, without suppressing them ."I told them, 'You could wish for anything.' It didn't have to be violent. But I was surprised." The reason we wanted you to read these wishes is that they are a window into a world you probably know nothing about. These children are seeing and experiencing a life so challenging that most of us can't begin to understand its depths. There is nothing that any one school, teacher, principal, parent or newspaper can do about the changing world of the 90s. But we can all try to do our best. In April, The Journal will publish a special section about parenting and how to deal with the challenges of the 90s. We're going to try to make it fun, and yet practical. We welcome your ideas for this section. We have to do something. Because life has to change for 6-year-olds. What do you suppose their unborn brothers and sisters are going to wish for? |
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Written by Walter Neary, and originally published in the Lakewood Journal on Feb. 9, 1995 |
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