When I was five years old I almost cut off my index finger with a corn chopper. The rusty and forgotten farm implement was near the playground at my school, and we thought it would be a good idea to try to chop some of the long grass that had grown up around it. Word to the wise: when operating an antique corn chopper, make sure your fingers are completely out of the way. That day I got a crash course in trauma, a trip to the emergency room, five stitches, my choice of lollipop, and a healthy respect for corn choppers.
To ensure future generations kept their fingers, the relic was removed from the area in what was no doubt a prudent decision. In the 30-plus years since, vigilant school administrators and parents have eliminated similar dangers, reduced risks, and generally stopped at nothing to ensure the safety of students. Decisions made on behalf of “student safety” are met with approval and rarely questioned. I mean, no one would argue that children could benefit from being less safe, right?
Imagine a world without injuries, accidents, or risks of any kind. Corners are rounded, heads are helmeted, monkey bars are lowered (the bar is literally lowered), and steps are taken to avoid dangers, perceived or otherwise. Safe? Probably. Boring? Definitely. But most importantly, what kind of skilled sailors will grow out of these smooth seas?
In trying to protect our children, we’ve done them a disservice by forcing them into an unrealistic reality. Children growing up in this vapid environment are as unprepared as they are uninjured. We may feel better knowing they’re safe, but that’s hardly the point. Children developing useful life skills should trump our piece of mind. By removing any perceived risk, we risk removing all fun. But revelry, the adrenaline-fueled hijinks of youth, is more than just fun. It is an essential rite of passage where lessons are learned from experience and experimentation.
No one wants to unnecessarily put children in harm’s way, but in our rush to protect them we sometimes gloss over what constitutes real risk. Seat belt and helmet laws are enacted because evidence suggests they decrease the likelihood of injury or death in an accident. However, similar evidence is seldom provided when playgrounds and schools are made ostensibly safer. In fact — unless there is a corn chopper involved — these changes address unfounded fears more than actual dangers. The result is school administrators and parents patting themselves on the back for solving a problem that wasn’t there. Now they’ve created a new problem: a sterilized environment where children passively learn to fear everything.
This mindset extends well beyond the playground. Our country is plagued by a culture of fear. Politicians, talking heads, religious leaders, and bloggers all agree we are doomed, they only disagree on the means of our demise. Each week brings a new potential apocalypse: Ebola, climate change, terror, the end of the Mayan calendar, the beginning of a cosmic phenomenon, financial collapse, or a computer glitch. Thankfully, none of these doomsdays came through on their promise, but that didn’t stop people from trying to leverage people’s fears to — at best — fight an invisible enemy, or — at worst — simply wield power.
In his first Inaugural Address, FDR memorably said, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” He went on to observe that “we are stricken by no plague of locusts,” to compare how the problems the country faced even after the Great Depression were minor in light of the truly apocalyptic scenarios laid out in the Bible. As we call for Ebola quarantines, jump to conclusions about unvaccinated immigrants, resort to torture to avoid another 9/11, or even cancel a movie release in response to a terror threat, it’s clear whatever lessons were learned from that speech have been forgotten.
We may never stop thinking in these terms. Fear is a strong instinct for good reason, it compels us away from danger. The least we could do, however, is avoid nurturing unfounded fears in our children. Indoctrinating them into our flawed mindset does not help prepare them for any actual future dangers, it only helps us validate our irrational fears.
That corn chopper had no place being near a playground, but I still have all my fingers. The only thing we truly have to fear is forgetting what a real threat looks like.
Hunter Smith lives in Bangor and may be reached at hunter.bangor@yahoo.com. Follow him on Twitter @hunter_smyth.