Reason- Big Mother is watching
What does it mean to grow up under constant parental surveillance?
Devices like Verizon’s GizmoWatch are used to track young kids at an age long before they’d carry a phone. The parents get an alarm if the child ventures beyond the “geofence” they have set, at which point they can call and say, “I see where you are!”
When I was growing up my parents knew where to find me because they took an actual interest in my life. Also, they trusted me not to be somewhere I shouldn’t be which had a lot to do with how I was raised (and punished when necessary). In addition to that, they took an active interest in the community as a whole, and even if I wanted to do something nefarious I would have never gotten away with it because everyone knew my parents and it would have gotten to their ears eventually.
Oh, and my parents didn’t do that “time out” nonsense. They actually punished me when earned.
That’s the trouble with not breeding any spares, moms get too invested in the one or two they have.
7 out of 10 of us survived.
My mom vocal fenced us. Kicked us out if there was no homework, called us back in for dinner or bed (or, if, on days life today, our feet started hurting).
Her range was epic, the other mothers would ask her to call their children in.
We definately, totally aren’t raising a group of fearful, self-absorbed, big mother fearing narcissists.
“What does it mean to grow up under constant parental surveillance?”
It probably means your parents care about you. They know that children make childish decisions. That is why children need to be supervised by adults – adults who love them.
Lenore Skenazy is founder of the Free-Range Kids movement. WTF does that mean? The whole article is psuedo-intellectual drivel. And have you read the lyrics to Roger Watter’s “Mother”? What an empty-headed goofball!
And you, Francisco, are you married? Have children? Me – I’m 82. I’ve raised several children all of whom are (or were, in deference to my late son) quite successful and am helping raise several grandchildren. Being a successful parent is like being a successful lifeguard. It requires being on constant watch. “Free range kids”? Lord help us!
My real problem with such a device is that the brats who really are likely to wind up dead or in prison before age 18 if not put under 24/7/365 surveillance will never be obliged to carry one.
It would be racist to suggest that a child of colour can’t be trusted outdoors, after all.
I feel sorry for kids today, and for blackfox’s above kids.
When I was a kid, around 8-9 yrs old, sometimes me, my brother and a couple friends would gather up our slingshots and pellet guns to play in the nearby abandoned quarry that went hundreds of feet up an escarpment, with conveyor belt chutes connecting the building at each level. Sometimes, while we were messing about, we’d spot another gang of kids with the same idea, then it was game-on! Guerrilla warfare in the post-apocalyptic setting of an abandoned and decaying quarry! Yay!!! Usually never found out who “the enemy” was cause to get close enough to know was to get shot by a slingshot or pellet gun.
We’d spend our allowance and paper-route money at the army surplus store buying tommy helmets and rommel goggles.
Then there was raiding the apple orchard and dodging the owner with his salt gun.
Or we’d do the 1 hour bike ride into the city, and make nuisances of ourselves by playing tag with mall security.
Good times, great memories.
Now kids do what? Play video games or get driven to and from hockey practice if they’re rich enough?…all the while the parents are goetracking them?
The wee kiddies from Our Gang (aka the Little Rascals) had more balls than most adults do today.
What a disgusting state of affairs.
I was the sixth of six. All made it but I was left to find my own way.
I made trouble but rarely was caught.
I also wandered 20 years in the desert – good years wasted trying to find water – but eventually became a consistent productive, useful little soul in a big world…with water aplenty.
There is guidance and there is surveillance.
I think it is prudent to know the difference.
And to know which one actually helps a child become their own special, unique human.
Buddy, your distinction between guidance and surveillance is profound and very useful. Thank you.
I was raised by immigrant (to Canada) parents who were themselves WW2 vets. Mom served in the WAAF, and Dad was Polish army attached to British army signals. In retrospect they were both somewhat nonchalant about physical risks to their sons. They had grown up in the world of the Blitz, in which a “tomorrow” was never guaranteed. On my first visit to England in 1964 I recall walking in the east London suburb of Bromley walking with mum to visit one of her childhood friends, and we passed a vacant lot between two homes. Mum mentioned without drama that in the fall of 1940, one of her class mates had died there when her home was flattened in an air raid.
So my parents were big on guidance and light on surveillance. They grew up with, and accepted risk as a normal part of growing up. When I was 15 they let me ride my bike from Toronto to Ottawa (and back) by myself, camping out along the way. Now, 56 years later I still appreciate being allowed my great adventure and savor the memories. And I’ve been better equipped to accept location risk in my professional life in oil and gas
Again thank you for making that key distinction. And, mum, dad… thanks for showering me with guidance without shielding from all risk.
We were allowed to play outside until sunset in the summer.
Look at all the fragile onelings who will be horrified by fresh air.
Mark my words:
Helicopter parenting is child abuse; they never grow up, never get to spread their wings because they were hobbled in their youth, and they’ll be the ones lining up for their cranial implant, like the good little drones their parents donated to the state.
Ya’ll got your QR shit on your phone?
Growing up we had the run of the home half section, 320 acres. Pasture, fields, a spring, barnyard, all the outbuildings, old cars & abandoned machinery, trees, a 5 acre garden, cows, pigs, horses, chickens, dogs, cats, quill pigs & howly dogs. We built empires, shot gophers, jumped off granaries into 8 foot snow drifts and froze our tongues on the old straw buncher—once.
No limits, save, “home for supper”.
As we got older three more rules were added, “Chores done first”, “Don’t drive home drunk” and, “Call if you won’t make it home”. All in all, pretty basic stuff. No unneeded complications. Love & respect on both sides.