Smoke

In the news this morning just outside the Snow Globe, in a nearby small town, was a story about a high school principal. For 16 years he's been the principal, and before that he was the town's mayor. He recently disciplined some students with a school suspension. And it seems they burned down his house. I surprised myself by crying while I read the news report. You see, the principal here in the Globe made me angry recently, and I stayed up late tapping off a scathing email to him which my son implored me not to send. I assured him that smoke rising from my keyboard is my personal way of calming myself down. At no point did I consider setting a fire in a plastic trash can in Mr. Principal's driveway while his family slept. Had the daughter of the principal in the neighboring town not gone for a morning walk with the dog and seen the fire in the garage, she would not have woken her parents and called the fire department. They escaped with their pets and a couple of photo albums, to stand outside and watch their home burn down.

The night I was so upset, my son and I talked long in the shadowy living room about the incident, and why we (calmly) disagree with the way Mr. Principal handled it, and then we agreed that Mr. Principal has good qualities to bring to a difficult position and we will continue to extend our respect to him. Though I may have said Mr. Principal is a blankety-blank and an abbity-dabbity-do while I was angry, it was uttered in my jammies on the couch and followed by a retraction. I let my son know I was disappointed in the principal's actions as a professional, but also empathetic to him as a human being and aware that we may approach problems from different places, each with good intentions.

As I read the story about the students in the neighboring town who didn't calm themselves down, and caused such destruction to their principal, I could not for the life of me wrap my mind around it. I especially couldn't get it to make any sense from my kitchen in the Globe, where I've been busy thinking about how it's time to organize the community Easter Egg Hunt for the umpteenth year. How did such a thing happen in a small town, to a man and his family who are long-time involved residents? Five children grew up in that house, in that community, and their memories were so easily turned to smoke surging into the early morning air. It was enough to make me think someone else should stuff all those eggs while I stay in my house and change the batteries in my smoke detectors.

I'll admit to being a bit obsessed with the story, enough to break my own rule and read the comments under the news article. Parents are to blame, it seems. Raising kids like that! My mind went right past parents and straight to Donald Trump, who was also on my mind this morning. Yes, my friends, I'm going to go there. I know politics is not the stuff snow globe sparkles are made of, but it's a little smoky in here right now and I need to air out the sparkles.

So why did Donald Trump come to mind? Because he's all over the place right now, routinely ranting in his jammies. Only he's not in his jammies and he never retracts. He says he'd like to "beat the crap" out of people, that someone who doesn't agree with him should be "roughed up," that he will "bomb the Sh**" out of other countries, that he could "stand in the middle of 5^th Avenue and shoot someone and not lose any voters." He insults people openly and often. Sure he may be telling it like he feels it at the moment; we all do that.  I, an accomplished jammie ranter, understand the appeal. But if we stomp on unapologetically, never restate our thoughts more respectfully when we've calmed down, always rant and seldom consider a different perspective, what kind of example do we set? Perhaps the kind that leads students who don't agree with the reprimand from their principal to go on Snap Chat ranting that they should burn his house down. They were just telling it like they felt it in the moment, and with the boldness of youth it got out of hand.

We blame their parents, but will parents trying to teach empathy and respect have a fighting chance in a country that thinks Donald Trump's behavior qualifies him to hold our highest office? It could be that the principal's suspension of the students was uncalled for.  Could they talk to him about it, Mr. President? Heck no! Rough him up, beat the crap out of him, burn down his house! Ugh. My sparkles were ashes clumped at the bottom of the snow globe.

Children were arriving at the daycare and I had to get started slugging through the ashes and into my day. It was a bit more trying than usual to go about the business of teaching self-focused little people, who are just learning to manage their own wants and needs, how to look outside themselves and understand the wants and needs of someone else. I was saying the usual: Why do you think he hit you? Did something happen that could have made him feel mad? Let's listen and talk. Look at your friend's sad face. Let's talk to her and see if we can help. Oh, you want to build in the block area too? Then don't call their tower stupid; let's see what you can all build together. But I was feeling more like: He said he doesn't like your picture? Well tear his picture up then! She bit you? Bite her back!

I didn't let them go at it because it's been my experience that when one of my children behaves forcefully the child on the receiving end doesn't sit back and submit. Oh no, he responds with equal but opposite force. Pretty soon everyone is crying and I have an intense headache. So I kept trying to help them see one another, listen to one another, give and take, and all the while I was fuming that Donald Trump acts like a child and we want to make him President. My snarky inner voice was saying "Stock up on the Tylenol, America!"

On days like this I'm so thankful for nap time, because today in the quiet I got a chance to read an update on the fire, which told how the community is rallying around the principal and his family. The GoFundMe that’s exceeded its goal, the box of autographed Green Bay Packers memorabilia that arrived when the assistant principal wrote to the Packers about how his co-worker lost the collection of a lifetime. I kicked at the ashes and a few sparkles floated into the clearing air above my sweet sleeping diplomats-in-the-making, as I read about how people really do care for one another.

I know there are people in the Globe who like Donald Trump's approach in his bid for the presidency, people I like. And what's more, I know they don't actually think kids should burn down the principal's house if he doesn't see their side. There are valid reasons why people may respond to Mr. Trump's message. I just feel it would be less of a headache if he stays in his jammies in the privacy of his rant space (or on late night television if he must) while he tosses out insults. If we put him in the block area and he doesn't know how to build with others, towers may topple in all directions. So I know who I won't be voting for. The truth is, regardless of who I do vote for, the biggest difference I might make is right here in the Snow Globe, waving smoke out of the block area and kicking up sparkles with the future leaders of America while they learn how to work together and respect one another. I hope they can look to the leaders of their country to do the same.