Sunday, 5PM in sunny and prosperous Greenwich, CT. The sun is reflecting off the pavement and the diamonds the size of boulders on the fingers of Stepford wives, who, having finished their leisurely brunching and shopping, proudly carry their perfectly identical, coiffed heads to their respective luxury vehicles.
My husband and I are heading to some unremarkable café with outdoor seating after dropping off his son at his mother’s house. Our dubious gastronomical delight is accompanied by a chance to listen in on a full-blown political discussion led by a seven-year-old and his chaperones.
The table next to us is occupied by a father and his son, who are joined by someone who must be the father’s girlfriend mid-meal. The kid acts unsurprised and friendly enough, as though he’d seen at least a dozen of the similar kind join them for lunch before (after all, they don’t bother waiting to order and start eating without her). The woman, whose hair is way too long for her fourth decade, arrives with a gift to win the kid over and no intention to shut her mouth if only for a minute. Having been in a similar situation before, I am almost rooting for the woman until she launches into the following discourse.
Girlfriend: I am Felicia. But you can call me Flea. Like the insect. All my friends call me Flea. Do you know any other Felicias?
Kid: No.
Girlfriend: So, who are you voting for, Michael? (I guess no one told her seven-year-olds don’t vote)
Father: Tell her, Michael!
Kid: John McCain. (I guess no one told him seven-year-olds don’t vote either)
Girlfriend: That’s great!
Father: Tell her why, Michael.
Kid: Because he won’t raise our taxes.
Girlfriend: So are you a Republican or a Democrat, Michael?
Kid: I am a Republican!
Girlfriend: You and I are going to get along just great, bud!
I am instantly reminded of coming home from school at about the same age and asking by parents who was better: Stalin or Lenin. It seemed that some other kids, who probably had the likes of Flea and Father for parents, had formed their opinions, and I was lagging behind.
Perhaps I am not keeping up with the times, but it seems to me that there is something wrong with training kids to spew their parents' political views, which they are not able to comprehend or counter. My stepson is neither a Republican nor a Democrat; his affiliation to date is with the Pooh Bears (the name of his class in school). And because I generally tend to agree with the Pooh Bears’ ideology (say “please” and “thank you,” share toys, wait your turn, be a good boy, etc.), he and I get along just great.
The table next to us is occupied by a father and his son, who are joined by someone who must be the father’s girlfriend mid-meal. The kid acts unsurprised and friendly enough, as though he’d seen at least a dozen of the similar kind join them for lunch before (after all, they don’t bother waiting to order and start eating without her). The woman, whose hair is way too long for her fourth decade, arrives with a gift to win the kid over and no intention to shut her mouth if only for a minute. Having been in a similar situation before, I am almost rooting for the woman until she launches into the following discourse.
Girlfriend: I am Felicia. But you can call me Flea. Like the insect. All my friends call me Flea. Do you know any other Felicias?
Kid: No.
Girlfriend: So, who are you voting for, Michael? (I guess no one told her seven-year-olds don’t vote)
Father: Tell her, Michael!
Kid: John McCain. (I guess no one told him seven-year-olds don’t vote either)
Girlfriend: That’s great!
Father: Tell her why, Michael.
Kid: Because he won’t raise our taxes.
Girlfriend: So are you a Republican or a Democrat, Michael?
Kid: I am a Republican!
Girlfriend: You and I are going to get along just great, bud!
I am instantly reminded of coming home from school at about the same age and asking by parents who was better: Stalin or Lenin. It seemed that some other kids, who probably had the likes of Flea and Father for parents, had formed their opinions, and I was lagging behind.
Perhaps I am not keeping up with the times, but it seems to me that there is something wrong with training kids to spew their parents' political views, which they are not able to comprehend or counter. My stepson is neither a Republican nor a Democrat; his affiliation to date is with the Pooh Bears (the name of his class in school). And because I generally tend to agree with the Pooh Bears’ ideology (say “please” and “thank you,” share toys, wait your turn, be a good boy, etc.), he and I get along just great.
2 comments:
I understand a baby voting for a republican. everyone else, I have a problem with...
Sometimes the little ones get to vote--in a mock election held in their classroom. I was in elementary school during the 92 election, and recall at least one occasion of political discussion and vote-casting. I also recall the enormous popularity Ross Perot enjoyed amongst 5th graders, and, perhaps more importantly, my teacher's steadfast refusal to even hint as to which candidate her own vote might favor.
With parents, though, some notion of their political preference is bound to become apparent to their children, either through methods as unsubtle as Greenwich Dad’s and Flea’s priming, or eventually and inevitably through a combination of the child’s natural curiosity and the parent’s desire/duty to explain some ways of the world. So I wonder if it might not be advantageous to all parties involved if, say, Dad and Flea differed politically and thus had to provide more and finer reasons for their views, lest they lose the child’s political camaraderie to the other adult. “Because he won’t raise our taxes” certainly isn’t going to raise a deep thinker or problem solver, and neither is the notion that “getting along just fine” requires membership in the same party.
But maybe I only hope that dissension will lead to a smarter kid because my S.O. and I happen to hover over opposite ends of the political spectrum....
Post a Comment