Chapter 31

Another school shooting, this one near Atlanta. The Senate has passed another gun control measure that will do nothing to prevent future school shootings. Republicans are railing against video games and the internet and movies and television shows (I’ve seen The Untouchables from the fifties, and we don’t have anything on television that violent -- and yet, no shootings then). But these are not the problems. Unless you want to count repealing laws, there is nothing the government can do about this problem. Children are shooting their classmates and teachers because they are emotionally stunted. How can they be anything else when their parents are as emotionally stunted as they are? We have children being raised by adults who are emotionally children themselves. This is the self-esteem movement's natural consequence.

Let’s take a look at Pat and Jessie. Pat is a perfect example because most mothers anymore are just like her. Jessie is a perfect example because she is so many daughters out there. She is a child -- a child whose childish habits are identified for her as being adult. Take a look at her at school, during recess:

Jessie has just run out of her school building, holding her friend Hope’s hand. Neither has quite decided what they want to do -- they just know it’s not going to have anything to do with boys. They’re immature. They see another little girl, seven, crouched, looking at something, her painfully thin legs bent like a hairpin. They go to see what she’s looking at. A small caterpillar is crawling across the ground, waves traveling from back to front, pushing its body past rocks and debris. They ask the girl what she’s looking at, and she tells them. Jessie and Hope bend down to look at it too.

“This is my caterpillar,” the little girl says.

Jessie looks at her. She’s not about to let this little girl have anything she can’t. “What makes you think it’s your caterpillar. What if we want it?”

“I saw it first.”

”But there’s two of us,” Jessie says. "We can take it if we want.”

The little girl scoops the caterpillar up in her hands. “No! It’s my caterpillar.” She holds it in both hands, up against her right cheek.

“You should share the caterpillar,” Hope says.

The little girl softens. She remembers “share.” They were still teaching her about sharing. She had to share. It was nice. Nice people shared. She pulled her hands down from her cheek. Jessie reached out with both hands, and clapped the little girl’s hands between hers. The little girl screamed at the sting and feel of something slimy and gross between her hands. Jessie and Hope laughed as they ran off. By the time a teacher got to the little girl, they were hidden behind some bushes planted along the wall of one of the buildings.

“I wish we’d brought something to play with,” Hope said.

“We can play with each other,” Jessie said.

“We’re always doing that. I mean with dolls.”

“We can pretend.”

“My mom gets mad when I pretend. She says I’m too old to pretend.”

“We can still pretend. Your mom ain’t here. Besides, my mom’s boyfriend pretends all the time. He’s a writer. He always make things up. He says pretending is a sign you’re a grown-up, and grown-ups who don’t pretend anymore are dull and serious and too much like babies who haven’t learned how to pretend yet.”

“But my mom...”

Jessie crossed her arms and shoved her nose into the air. “Fine. Don’t pretend then. Be all dull and serious.”

“I’m not dull and serious. I wanna be a grown-up too.”

“Grown-ups do all kinds of things. Do you want me to show you?”

Hope shook her head. Jessie knew how to be a grown-up. She wanted her to show her how.

Of course, Jessie knew nothing about being a grown-up. She had been taught by a bigger child than she was herself. Though she was half-right when she repeated what Michel had told her. Learning how to pretend, to be creative, to make things up or invent things is one of the first signs of maturity -- and one of the first things adults try to destroy, to make their children actually more child-like, more infantile, to turn back their development. To make them more like themselves.