This entry is the first in a series chronicling my activism adventures with my three young charges. Wee tinys can be activists. They have strong feelings about things, but often feel powerless to do anything about their feelings. Teaching them proactive strategies for bettering their world gives them the tools to stand up for themselves and their beliefs later in life. This is my mission with my charges.
But first, some background on the major players in our exploits. I work as a nanny to three boys, ages 11, 8, and 5. Their family is firmly middle-class. They live in the city because their parents value the heterogeneous demographics of the neighborhoods. Two of the three boys attend city schools. The middle boy attends a suburban school for gifted and talented services not offered in the city.
The oldest boy will be known throughout the series as "Brain Drain." I mean this affectionately, and would never call him this in person. It is apt, however, because he is the most challenging of the three boys. He is an energetic, raging extrovert who never stops talking. Ever. Not even to breathe. He wears me out mentally, hence the moniker.
The middle boy will be called "Middle Child," because he is acutely aware of his position in the family. He attributes most of his problems to his Jan Brady status. He is intelligent, sensitive, and explosively moody.
The youngest boy is "The Princess," for reasons explained in Transgender 5-year-old: What's a Feminist Nanny To Do? He is a snuggle bug with a flair for the dramatic.
These are the children in whom I hope to instill the ethics of critical questioning and social justice. I have been with them for six years, through countless garage sales and lemonade stands, and I have seen them grow into successful little capitalists. Now that they are older, I am concerned that they may be too extrinsically motivated, so I have implemented a social justice curriculum. It began last summer, when I declared that we would no longer be driving my car.
They pretty much freaked.Brain Drain went on a 20-minute rant about how bored he would be stuck in the house all summer with his stupid brothers. Middle Child got over his shock and started investigating field trips accessible by light rail. Brain Drain stopped his tirade when Middle Child announced we could reach the Mall of America by light rail.
The older boys researched gas mileage of cars and buses, and I wrote word problems to help them determine which was the more efficient mode of transportation. We made a chart to track the miles we drove vs. the miles we biked, walked, bused, and light-railed. The Princess decorated the poster with lovely pink flowers and learned to ride the Trail-a-Bike.
By the end of the summer, we racked up more than 100 miles of alternative transportation. We drove fewer than 30 miles. We visited four museums, the Mall of America, the amazing new Central Library, Minnehaha Falls, a concert series at the University of Minnesota, and countless parks, all without aid of a car. The boys can now read bus schedules and navigate north, south, east, and west in the city. The most satisfying result, though, is their burgeoning awareness of the impact we each have on the world around us. They are beginning to think before they act.
Now, if I could only get them to turn off a light once in a while...
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