Free ranging in childhood. It's a good thing.

When I was a child growing up in Small Town, Heart of America, I spent hours and hours out of doors each week. Without my mother or father. Sometimes with friends and sometimes alone. I played with the neighbor children, dug in the dirt or snow, wandered about really. And once I got my own bike, my little world expanded tremendously. I rode my pink "Fair Lady," as it was titled on the metal bar, all over the village. I would cover miles in any given day, occasionally lost on the route, but nearly always lost in thought. I challenged myself to the steepest hills and was rewarded with what seemed to be record setting speeds on the down hill slope. The "New Park" and the "Old Park" were requisite stops as well as Six-Mile Creek, the library with the purple pillars and a few back and forths in front of my friend Bonnie's house in hopes that she would see me and come outside (she lived "across town" from me).

My friends tell me such freedoms are no longer possible for children of this generation. Times are different now, they say. How? Sure, some things are different: children nowadays don't spend much time outdoors, they are afraid or bored, or most likely unaware, of what authentically wonderful adventures await them out there. Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe there have been scoundrels throughout history and there have been good people throughout history. Nothing new there. Children need to learn how to discern between the two. Nothing new there. Young children, adolescent children and young adults need to learn to be aware of their surroundings and be prepared to respond accordingly. Nothing new there.

So I say shame on us for not giving our children the gift of freedom and exploration. During those countless hours of unsupervised play I relished in childhood, I worked out a lot of questions in my head, I gained confidence by finding my way back on course when I was lost or conquering those insurmountable inclines and by being trusted to go out on my own, I explored and observed nature and figured my way out of what seemed at the time to be scary situations (once there was what I believed to be a rabid dog taking the same walking route I had chosen. Gasp! I changed routes. Quick.)

I, for one, do not wish my children to grow up in fear of the world around them, suspicious of strangers, skeptical of the kindnesses offered to them by others, and closed to the wondrous experiences that arise from prudent risk-taking. Quite the opposite, when they leave the shelter of our home each day and for good on some distant day, I wish for them a confidence, gained by experience, that allows them to adapt to any environment, think quick in unexpected situations and enjoy a diversity of people and surroundings.

This summer I have had the pleasure of reading a great deal, both online and with bound pages in hand. What a wonderful trail I found myself on when I stumbled upon a column by Lenore Skenazy, entitled "Why I Let My 9-Year-Old Ride the Subway Alone." (If you are a regular reader of this blog, you may recognize Ms. Skenazy's name.) In the column, the author describes finally giving in to her 9-year old son's pleadings to try riding the subway in NYC all alone. The tale stirred up tremendous national controversey...some feeling the this mother should be imprisoned for child abuse (or neglect, as the case may be) and others hailing her as a queen of common sense. All of this led to the creation of a website named, quite cleverly, Free Range Kids. There one can read hundreds of testimonials of parents who fight the battle (against well meaning family, friends and neighbors) to allow their children the freedom to ride a bike to the nearby library or walk around the block alone. If, like me, you are prone to sentimentality and have happy roaming memories of your own, you may get misty-eyed reading the reminiscenses of others' roving childhood adventures. (Feel free to weigh in on the subject or share your own story, too!)

Quite coincidentally as I was hopping around online tonight, I came upon this L.A. Times article by Rosa Brooks, "Remember 'go outside and play?'" She writes about Lenore Skenazy's column and all that followed but goes on to say:

Reader, if you're much over 30, you probably remember what it used to be
like for the typical American kid. Remember how there used to be this thing
called "going out to play"?For younger readers, I'll explain this archaic
concept. It worked like this: The child or children in the house -- as long as
they were over age 4 or so -- went to the door, opened it, and ... went outside.
They braved the neighborhood pedophile just waiting to pounce, the rusty nails
just waiting to be stepped on, the trees just waiting to be fallen out of, and
they "played."

All in all, "going out to play" worked out well for kids. As the American Academy of Pediatrics' Dr. Kenneth Ginsburg testified to Congress in 2006, "Play allows children to create and explore a world they can master, conquering their fears while practicing adult roles. ... Play helps children develop new competencies ... and the resiliency they will need to face future challenges." But here's the catch: Those benefits aren't realized when some helpful adult is hovering over kids the whole time.

She continues:

We parents have sold ourselves a bill of goods when it comes to child safety.
Forget the television fear-mongering: Your child stands about the same chance of
being struck by lightning as of being the victim of what the Department of
Justice calls a "stereotypical kidnapping." And unless you live in Baghdad, your
child stands a much, much greater chance of being killed in a car accident than
of being seriously harmed while wandering unsupervised around your
neighborhood.

Thank you, Department of Justice and Rosa Brooks. Give freedom back to our children!