Children being killed in our schools is unacceptable. From here the debate gets crazy.
Some support the #WalkOut.
I see this side. Our children deserve to be safe.
Some counter with the #WalkUp stance.
Inclusion. I get it. In fact, this is why I am here.
I would like to share my testimony of the philosophy of inclusion and compassion.
You should know that I am the mother who talks to her children. I drill them after school. We have conversations about their friends and choices. We talk about everything.
We moved. My children were starting over in a new school. There was a child who would say, “Hello” to my daughter when we were out and about.
I am the mom who told my daughter to “be kind to everyone.”
My daughter would tell me that this child didn’t have many friends.
I am the mom who told my daughter “be inclusive.”
My daughter would tell me this child was disruptive.
I am the mom who told my daughter to “listen to what people have to say.”
My daughter would tell me this child had issues at home.
I am the mom who told my daughter, “have compassion; you don’t know what someone else is going through.”
Then one day I got a call from the school. The conversation started, “This is the school counselor, and I’m calling about your daughter. Everything is okay….”
My heart was racing. I have never been called by the school for my child acting up. I have never been called by the school about any of my children.
The call continued, “some of your daughter’s peers brought it to my attention that there is a child who has been giving your daughter attention.”
I listened as she revealed what my daughter’s peers has told her.
Then it hit me, “My daughter has a stalker!”
I asked her to tell me who this child was, but by law, she could not.
I said, “How about I give you a name, and you tell me if I’m right?”
She could not.
I knew this child.
This was the child I had told my daughter to include.
This was the child I had told my daughter to listen to.
This was the child I had told my daughter to have compassion for.
Terror pounded its way through my veins. My throat was dry.
It has escalated over the years. From inappropriate boundaries to bullying. This child was following my daughter very closely. This child was verbally putting my child down. This child was harassing my daughter to the point that HER PEERS felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t my daughter who said anything.
I wanted to know what was being done. How was the school protecting my child?
I was told my daughter would be removed from classes with this child. Teachers were being notified to pay attention to this child and stop any interaction with my daughter. There were cameras in the hallways, and teachers would be outside their doors during a class transition.
My brain was ricocheting. I was thinking about how little time was between now and when they entered high school. I was questioning what I had missed in my numerous conversations with my daughter. I was thinking how crazy bad this could have been.
Then, in front of the guidance counselor, I cried as I told my daughter,
“I have given you terrible parenting advice.”
There was a long pause.
My daughter told me she was fine. “It’s no big deal.”
I don’t feel the same way she does.
I fed my child to a lion.
My attempt to raise a child who was kind, compassionate, inclusive and all these amazing qualities we are told makes us great parents, made her prey.
It happened last year.
Imagine my horror when my daughter went to Washington DC, and this child was placed in her group!
This time, tables turned.
My daughter had my permission to keep to her group. She had my permission to be nothing more than polite. She was instructed to stay close to the adult.
If you haven’t been in this situation, it is tricky. I don’t want my daughter to be afraid. I want her to be strong. I want her to be free, but I want her to be aware.
I find we are having more conversations about, “as a female there are things you simply cannot do…”
We talk about how she cannot go into an alleyway or stairway alone.
She is reminded as we prepare to walk out of a store that we need to stay together, observe the cars parked on either side of us, get in the car, close and lock the doors and leave.
As we park, she is reminded to be aware of her surroundings.
The list goes on and on.
I am not taking sides on the school violence. We can all agree that we want our children to be safe.
What I am saying is sometimes, asking our child to be inclusive, have compassion and listen leads them into a dark abyss. Sometimes, it’s okay not to be inclusive and kind.
This story was written by Julee Morrison of Mommy’s Memorandum. The article originally appeared here. Julee Morrison is a quirky, dorky, Virginia transplant with an appetite to taste the world, meet its desserts and tell their stories.