(Host) With back-to-school season underway, writer, journalist and
commentator Marybeth Redmond is thinking about a fragile segment of the
population also returning to school this month – children with a parent
in prison.
(Redmond) I settled my son into his 4th grade
classroom as part of this month’s back-to-school ritual. In the days
prior, we had purchased a mountain of school supplies. The shopping
banter between us ran something like this:
"Mom, can I get the bazillion Crayola crayon box this year?"
"Nah, the 96- pack with built-in sharpener will do. Alright?"
"Yeah. Okay."
We then loaded "the loot" into his sleek, tangerine plaid Burton backpack, an early birthday present too pricey for my tastes.
Then
on the first day of school, my eye caught a small girl with bedraggled
hair and a wild look scurrying through the elementary building. And
because of the mentoring work I do with incarcerated women, my mind
instantly leapt to the thought that this could be one of their children –
also beginning the new school year.
Last year’s figures from
the Vermont Department of Corrections show that 40-percent of
incarcerated women and 28-percent of men were the parents of minor
children. National statistics peg the percentages higher – more than
two-thirds of imprisoned women in the United States are mothers of
children under age 18.
It’s hard to imagine the tumultuousness
of back-to-school for a child with a parent in jail. Most likely, the
child has been enrolled in an unfamiliar school because of temporary
placement with an extended or foster family. Money is sure to be tight,
with limited resources for new sneakers, calculators, or that two-inch
binder Teacher requested. The natural stressor of new classmates adds to
the angst. Most critically, a well-worn emotional connection to a
beloved parent – despite shortcomings – is absent. This child enters
school with a serious stigma through no fault of his or her own. It’s
not hard to imagine the range of traumas resulting. But hopefully, those
of us gifted with intellectual and/or financial resources will be
willing to accept some responsibility in all of this.
This year,
I intend to be more aware of the struggling child alongside my son, who
may not have the tools he or she needs to thrive. I will try to play an
active role as tutor, mentor, backpack provider, or simply a kind,
listening ear. I’ll be less focused on getting the quote "easy kids"
assigned to me for the upcoming class field trip. And less obsessed with
surrounding my child with only the most advantageous friendships – in
other words, with kids whose parents are like me, well-educated and
well-resourced.
These considerations are, of course, deeply
personal and unique to each one of us, but we do, after all, have the
whole school year to ponder them.