I did it. I allowed my daughter Risa, a third grader, to walk to school alone this week. Granted, this should not be breaking news given that it's a five-minute walk in a safe area well-traveled by parents trailing their children to school. And yet… I don't know a single other parent letting their third-grader do it. I feel like the town rebel: I am Kevin Bacon's character "Ren" in Footloose.
Why aren't most third-graders walking to school parent-free, like we all did when we were their age? We're scared to death; that's why. What if our children run in front of a car? Get abducted by kidnappers? I mean, it's just not safe out there like it was when we were growing up, right? Wrong. I, like many others, was astonished to read in Lenore Skenazy's controversial book Free-range Kids that it is indeed safe out there. After researching stats from the Department of Justice, Skenazy determined that crime — which rose through the '70s and '80s and peaked in 1990 — has been dropping steadily since then, and we're back to the same crime level we were at in 1970! What's different today? A 24/7 news cycle warning us about the "poison in our bathroom" and "house plants that kill," along with endless child abduction stories on police dramas such as "NCIS" and "Law Order." Of course we're paranoid!
If you're thinking, Sure, but what about all these mass shooting sprees and Internet crimes that didn't used to exist? Well, you're right, but these terrible acts have nothing really to do with letting our kids walk to school or play in the backyard. We lump these acts altogether and decree the world unsafe. And in doing so, we inflict another kind of harm on our kids: We teach them our own community is dangerous and they can't handle it without us. I vowed after reading Skenazy's book that I would do my part to stop the madness.
Last summer, I began allowing Risa to mail a letter for us, half of a block away and on the other side of our street. I made her show me how to look both ways before crossing, and then I watched from my office window, holding my breath as she completed Operation Mail Letter. Next, my husband and I let her walk to playdates in our neighborhood, which was trickier because it involved other parents. When I'd let a parent know ahead of time we were sending Risa over, he/she would suggest meeting my girl halfway or calling when she arrived — as if I were sending Risa off to battle. I took deep breaths and reminded myself Risa could handle the responsibility, and that it was a feather in her competence cap each time she proved it.