Childcare in our area is hard to come by. Yet, at most civic meetings, children magically disappear, not to be seen. Could we be doing them a disservice?
A friend of mine who lives back east told me a story about taking her young son, 9 at the time, to a community meeting about a major road near their house. The thoroughfare is a busy one, bustling with cars most of the day, yet it also bisects several neighborhoods packed with kids of all ages. Some people wanted to adjust the road, adding medians and sidewalks, so that cars would slow down, and the road would be safer for kids to bike and play on. Others didn’t want to see the speed limit go down and have their driving times increase. My friend told her son he was coming with her to the meeting and he grumbled about it, muttering about how boring it was going to be. But his mother was adamant because she wanted him to experience civic engagement.
Tables were set up for discussion and people circulated around the room having conversations in a roundtable format. My friend said that her son went from table to table, engaging in discussions with adults who listened intently to his input and he theirs. By the end of the evening, her son was a star of the show — several people told him that he should think about city council — and informed about the issue and its various facets. What a memory this young man has about being involved in his community, making a difference. This is where seeds of a service-driven political career are planted.
Here in Tahoe/Truckee, our children are exposed to leisure activities, such as skiing, mountain biking, sailing (p. 43), hiking, and more. Sports and outdoor recreation are food for the soul, no doubt, but what about the innerworkings of our society? Does it make sense to exclude, informally if not officially, our children from public meetings and expect them to become passionate about it when they turn 18?
In hunter-gatherer societies, children are in constant physical contact and proximity of caretakers, which means they are there for everything, witnessing the daily work, play, conversations, and decisions. They learn via observation and imitation, and many researchers have tied the development of proficiency and self-reliance to this style of learning. When children don’t experience “adult things” such as town halls, how do we expect their skills in governance to mature? Practice promotes civil discourse.
Recently, I brought my 7-month-old daughter, Suki, to Good Morning Truckee. The program featuring three Washoe speakers was one I helped arrange and I wanted her there to experience what I thought was a momentous occasion, where we would hear the stories and modern-day work of the Indigenous peoples of our region. Suki was a gem through the meeting, not disruptive and dare I say attentive, and simply being there helps set a precedent for civic engagement.
Moonshine Ink has a summer intern this year, Lola Barta, a rising high school junior who at the moment plans to become a sports journalist, but is also willing to tackle news. For a news brief, she spoke with fellow classmates about service work in cleaning local beaches after the Fourth, and for the Feel Good story, she interviewed two young fly-fishers who aim to help empower Paiute youth via the sport. Lola’s ground-level view of the community at work is the type of learning that will stay with her, and in turn, render the rich returns of an engaged member of society.
