I don’t have a strong recollection of being called names as a child. I’m sure I was, because hey, kids are mean and I had a really great set of buckteeth before orthodontics kicked in. What I do remember is what we used to say, or what we were supposed to say, when someone called us a name: Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me. Or, my preferred saying: I’m rubber, you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you. Neither one of these made very much sense, especially the one about being rubber and glue because while sound waves may bounce, they don’t exactly stick. Also, being made of rubber is almost as silly as being made of glue, unless your name is Elmer. I can’t, however, deny that a stiff beating with wood and rock would probably hurt pretty bad. ...
Reconnecting Children With the Natural World Written by Jodi Hiland of Happy Trails Family Nature Club Barriers to Outdoor Free-Play There are myriad barriers to children's outdoor free play, and these must be addressed in every corner of society. Times may never be what they once were for children, but we must create a new, balanced reality. Parental Fear One of the biggest reasons children are seen less outdoors is parents' perceived "stranger danger." I say "perceived", because while child abductions do occasionally occur, it is not nearly as often as people believe. The modern media have gone overboard in their reporting of these incidents, and with internet news spreading like wildfire, it is now to the point where we think abductions are happening far more than they are. In fact, most abducted children are taken by someone the child knows, like a family member. And, the number of these hasn't increased since the 1970's (when I was a kid). Of co...
Every weekend when they were younger, my grandparents would go dancing. I know this because I hear stories about Foxtrot-ing at the ballroom or how wildly fun the polka bands at the local VFW were. The stories all end the same way, with everyone taking off their shoes and limping out to the cars, driving back to someone’s house where they would then put on more music, move all the furniture and dance even more. I hear about so-and-so who was the best two-stepper, and you-know-who who could jitterbug his way right through the floor, not to mention the polka dancer that would really whip you around the room. Granted, growing up in the Cleveland area, all of these people had last names with 14 consonants and ended in either “czek” or “ski,” but still I think that this dance craze went well beyond the limits of our ethnicity. But I’m afraid those limits don’t matter now, because no one dances anymore. Just recently I asked my friend if she knew anyone who was getting married who might need...
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