Lawrence kids reflect Midwestern values

I first noticed it on Saturday mornings at the recycling center. Children lugging tubs out of their family vans, running around excitedly, depositing newspapers and “chipboard” and plastic bottles in the right places, checking for the numbers on the bottom of plastic bottles. There was no “Oh, Ma:ooom!” No dragging feet, no pouty expressions, no whining. These children were fully and happily engaged in being productive members of their families.

When had I seen anything like this, I asked myself. This was not a scene I would be likely to witness in the East Coast suburb I escaped from. But I couldn’t put my finger on its significance.

Over the past year, I have continued to see examples of well-behaved, engaged children and sensible parenting. Shortly before Christmas, I paused in the entrance of a Lawrence department store and saw a mother huddled with her three children, quietly explaining something to them before entering the store. I eavesdropped, taking a long time to put on my gloves. “Now why are we here? What are we looking for?” she asked in a tone that was quiet, firm, but certainly not scolding. Then she mapped out their mission, which was to find “Johnny” a warm coat. That was the only thing they were going to buy today, she explained. Whether this was to head off some previous disaster or to save time and money by focusing, I do not know. I was tempted to go back into the store and observe the family, but I decided that was going too far. I knew those children would not be running around begging their mother to buy this or that or whining when she said no.

Lawrence children, with some exceptions, seem to be happy, aware of those around them, and fully engaged with their families and community. (We all know that may temporarily change when they become teenagers. No getting around that.) But in the main, I have never seen so many well-adjusted children in one place.

Where I recently came from, suburban parents work punishing hours and endure punishing commutes, leaving children in daycare or with nannies. But the minute they get home, they drive their children to soccer practice and ballet lessons and karate classes and to the mall and to Blockbusters for a video, grabbing a bite of fast food on the way to the next place. And if they should take a trip, there is no watching the scenery or meaningful conversation with parents (who, after all, exist in a world apart), but nonstop entertainment/distraction provided by DVD players in the back of the minivan.

From what I’ve observed, these indulged, catered-to children acquire a sense of entitlement early. In grocery stores or restaurants, it is not uncommon to see children running about nearly knocking down other customers or wait staff, screaming, making demands or crying without so much as a reprimand from parents who are either oblivious to their behavior or look on in embarrassed helplessness.

I began trying to analyze what made Lawrence children so different. Was it Midwestern and/or Kansas values, small town culture, rural roots or exceptionally smart parents? (They say we’re the seventh-smartest city in the country.) Was it because Lawrence, with all its wonderful activities, is so child-centered?

No. Lawrence is not child-centered, it’s people-centered. Children are part of the culture, not a separate entity within the culture. They are valued as part of the whole, and they contribute to the whole. They belong.

In contrast, Coastal Culture has abandoned its children – oh, they don’t think that’s what they’ve done. They profess just the opposite. They cater to children, pamper them, treat them as very special, something “apart.” Parents design their houses and schedules around them. But the children are disconnected, and they know it.

There was a time in our rural and small-town past when children were an integral part of the economy of the family, sharing in the tasks – gathering eggs, gardening, caring for farm animals or helping in the family business. I grew up that way – and we enjoyed it, turning our “work” into games. We felt a sense of accomplishment, pride, and belonging.

And then there’s playtime – structured and unstructured – that is so crucial to a healthy childhood. Lawrence seems to foster both kinds. This year’s Art Tougeau parade, which I witnessed for the first time, is the perfect example of what’s special about Lawrence culture. This city offers an abundance of activities that involve all ages. Whether riding crazy “vehicles” down the street or giggling over others’ ridiculous moving “art,” we’re all just a bunch of kids.

Maybe that’s what really makes Lawrence children fit in so well.