The ongoing violence in schools is intolerable, and yet the discussions surrounding it often become absurd. There are those who support the #WalkOut movement, advocating for our children’s right to safety, a sentiment I wholeheartedly share. Conversely, some promote the #WalkUp idea, emphasizing inclusion, which is a concept I once championed.
As a parent, I’m the one who engages my children in deep conversations about their friends and the choices they make. After relocating to a new area, my children faced the challenge of starting fresh at a new school. My daughter encountered a classmate who frequently greeted her in public, and I encouraged her to be friendly.
I was the parent who urged my daughter to “be kind to everyone” and “be inclusive.” When my daughter mentioned that this peer lacked friends, I advised her to listen more attentively. When she expressed concerns about the child’s disruptive behavior, I insisted on compassion, reminding her that we can never fully understand what someone else might be experiencing.
Then came a phone call from the school. “This is the school counselor,” the voice said, “and I’m reaching out about your daughter. Everything is okay…” My heart raced. I had never received a call like this before regarding my children. The counselor continued, revealing that other students had reported a troubling situation involving my daughter and this classmate.
It dawned on me that I was speaking about the very child I had encouraged my daughter to include, to listen to, and to show compassion towards. Panic surged within me as I realized that this individual had been following my daughter closely, verbally harassing her to the point that her peers felt uncomfortable.
I needed to know how the school was safeguarding my child. I was assured that measures were being taken: my daughter would be kept separate from this peer, teachers would monitor interactions, and there were even cameras in the hallways. Yet, all I could think about was the brief time left before she would be in high school, and I began to question what I had overlooked in our conversations.
In a moment of vulnerability, I told my daughter through tears, “I think I’ve given you the wrong advice.” She reassured me that she was fine, but my instincts told me otherwise. Had I unknowingly placed her in danger by pushing ideals of kindness and inclusion?
Last year, my daughter traveled to Washington, D.C., only to find herself grouped with this same child again. This time, however, I gave her permission to limit her interactions and to focus on her own group, advising her to stay close to an adult.
Navigating these situations is challenging. I want my daughter to be strong and unafraid, but I also recognize the realities of her world. We have had to discuss the limitations she faces as a girl, including the importance of being cautious in certain situations. I remind her to always stay aware of her surroundings.
While I don’t take a stance on the complexities of school violence, I believe we can agree that our children’s safety comes first. Sometimes, insisting that our children be inclusive and compassionate can lead them into perilous situations. It’s okay to draw boundaries when necessary.
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In summary, while kindness and inclusivity are important virtues, we must also teach our children to protect themselves and recognize when it’s appropriate to step back.