Carol Daniel
The screams could be heard down the hallway. My oldest was almost kicked in the head. The six-year-old was shouting words that sounded like “I hate you.” Both children were crying, and so was I. I can hear your thoughts: “Where were you and what happened?”
It was your run-of-the-mill visit to our pediatrician.
PJ and Marcus seem to forget the other 364 days of the year that a visit to their doctor often means a round of immunizations. Perhaps because they have now hit an age where they have lived a little longer and know a little more about life, this visit was more traumatic than the last. They were enjoying themselves and entertaining anyone who would watch, until the talk turned to shots and the pile of needles was placed on a table within plain sight.
One began to cry. The other tried to escape or delay the inevitable by proclaiming, “I have to go the bathroom.” The fear, the tears, the anger, the pain, it was almost too much for me to handle. I don’t know what was worse: the knowledge that I really couldn’t stop the pain because they had to have the shots or my attempts to restrain them.
Their struggle to avoid the sting and my efforts to hold them down left me winded. But the shots were so much more difficult than the question-and-answer session I have with their doctor during these annual visits. The questions range from overall health concerns to whether they are exposed to lead to whether or not they know what to do if they go over to a friend’s house and see a weapon.
The doctor asked me about their diet, their attitude and whether they are listening in class and making good grades. He checked to see if their spines were straight. Their eyes and ears are checked, they are weighed and measured. All of the questions and tests are meant to determine whether they are safe and growing appropriately for their age. They’re also meant to make sure that their parents are informed.
As I was leaving my doctor’s office, I thought about those questions. I could have learned through a visit that my children have vision problems or something wrong with their spines. It’s safe to say that measuring progress is something we have to do to know if we are headed in the right direction.
Speaking of losing direction, something is lost in all the discussion and debate surrounding the St. Louis School Board. The well being of the students is being drowned out by the acrimonious tone between the board president and her detractors, those she called a gang. I have very little admiration for how this mess unfolded, but if things don’t calm down soon, it may be better for the board president to step aside so the district can focus on the business of educating students. Leaders know when to lead and when to get out of the way.
By the same token, detractors ought to know when to turn up the heat and when to cool off. This situation reached the ridiculous stage a long time ago. If we treated the players in this story like a child at a pediatrician’s office, we’d measure the vision and find it shortsighted. We’d measure the height and find that growth is not appropriate for the age of the subject. We’d plan for immunizations, but find that the shots have been delayed so long that disease has already set in. We’d examine the spine and find that it’s already crooked.
The pediatrician will likely call in the state, because it’s clear that this patient has been neglected by those in charge of her care. Last week, I implored parents getting ready for school to repeat my words, “Turn off the TV and study.” Now it’s time for the following words: “Stop arguing and educate!”