I live in old town Louisville, which regularly receives national press for being a great place to raise kids. Two blocks down a short, quiet street is where my infant daughter Julia will attend elementary school. Pushing a stroller with my right hand and leading my stocky basset hound with my left, I walk toward the school and notice warning signs wired to the chain link fence at the edge of the property, like a convention of crows perched along a wire.
Drug-free zone; minimum 5 years in prison for selling . . . .
No unattended vehicles.
Hug n’ go.
Caution.
Think “safety.”
These last two signs caw their messages again a few feet later and then a third time in a totem pole of anxiousness at the school’s front doors, to which the following is added:
Idle-free zone.
Protect our children; please turn off your engine!
I walk up to the doors and see my faint reflection and the “no public restroom” sign. I cart my small caravan through an open gate that urges people to Keep gate closed at all times for student safety.
These signs are, of course, well-intentioned. Better to be alarmist than irresponsible. I have to wonder, though, if a third-grader doesn’t ask himself, “What’s the deal with all the signs? Is someone trying to attack us or something?”
Yes, little boy, dangers menace from all sides: drug dealers; hit-and-run parents; noxious car exhaust — not to mention the unmentionable kidnappers and pedophiles.
Even though we are in most ways safer and healthier than ever — crime rates are near historic lows and methods to alleviate pain and death are more effective than ever — we still feel afraid, as if we are living in one of the most dangerous times in history.
Why this subtle backdrop of fear instead of hope? Because we are, according to Frank Furedi, a sociologist and professor at the University of Kent, biased toward “worst-case scenarios.” Let’s say Julia is almost old enough to walk home alone from school. I debate this, and ask, well, what could happen?
She could be kidnapped, raped and murdered by some sicko. Yes, what springs to mind first is the absolute worst-case scenario. I go to the dark side in the name of good parenting.
But what of the much, much more likely best-case scenario: She gets space and time to process what happened that day, to think her own thoughts, all the while biting off the smallest piece of independence. Remember those walks alone when you were young?
“Worst-case thinking encourages the adoption of fear as one of the dominant principles around which the public, and its government and institutions, should organize their lives,” Furedi says. Schools fear lawsuits and offending certain religious groups. Parents fear the neighbors two streets over and that someone (or something) might scare the bejesus out of their children.
If our kids knew how much our irrational fears were dimming the highlights of their childhood, they’d be peeved. Just think of the freedom you had.
Roman philosopher Tacitus said, “The desire for safety stands against every great and noble enterprise.” Only by taking a chance do we create something worthwhile.
So here’s a salute across the years to my Julia walking home from school buzzing with that sense of aliveness and possibility that so often accompany calculated risk.
Daniel Brigham (daniel@daniel ) recently left his comfortable university position so that he could take new vocational risks.
