I’ve been weighing this question for a while, and here’s a story that reflects on it:
I have a yearly membership to the kids’ zoo in my local area. Not because I support animals being in cages, but because the zoo has an incredible playground for children. It’s filled with various huge playground equipment. I take my kids there to let them run free within the cage of the playground. After all, whether we admit it or not, we’re all animals, just in different types of cages.
Next to the kids’ playground is an area where they keep domestic animals like pigs, ducks, ponies, and goats, all with the idea of roaming freely, within the fence. Among them are two majestic swans. Along the fence separating people from the animals, there are benches for visitors to sit, relax, and eat lunch, all while you observe the animals who are in this case super close. I’m seated on the bench to the right of the entrance, while my two kids, aged 5 and 3, stand by the fence, looking at the animals curiously.
One of the swans approaches them, and I tell them to be careful and simply observe. “They’re huge, Mommy,” my son exclaims. “Yes, they—” and before I can finish my sentence, a small stone flies towards the swan. It’s tiny. It hits the swan in his chest and bounces back on the ground, the swan looks it in hope it’s food. I think. I glance to my right and notice a boy, not too far from my kids, perhaps around 7-8 years old. I put on my sunglasses, waiting to see who threw the stone, as I am not sure. I continue talking to my kids as larger stones are thrown toward the swan. They all hit different parts of his body and bounced from his feathers on the ground. He misses. I look at the boy and remove my glasses, then glance at his parents sitting on the bench next to me—two moms engrossed in their phones, paying no attention to their kids by the fence. The boy picks up a bigger stone, 10 centimetres big stone, for the third time and tosses it again, he hits the ground next to the animal's paw, missing the swan.
I stand up abruptly and shout, “Who is throwing stones at the animals?” My voice echoes loudly, silencing the entire playground. All eyes are on me. I repeat, “Who is throwing stones at the swans?” I look at the boy and his mom. She rolled her eyes, and dismissively stated, “He doesn’t know; he’s just a little boy, he doesn’t know.”
My blood boiled, and I wanted to pick up the stone her son threw and throw it back at her, labelling myself as “little.” But I restrain myself because my kids are present. Other kids are here too. The playground falls into an uneasy silence. Everyone awaits my reaction.
“He’s not little,” I say and pointing at another family’s child in a stroller, saying, “He’s little! And her,” pointing at another child also in a stroller, “she’s little too. But he,” I look at her son again: “is not little anymore!”
I turn to my younger kids who, despite being visibly younger than the woman’s child, ask them: “Are we throwing the stones into animals?” They shake their heads, saying: “No mommy.” I turn back to the mother and calmly say, “He’s not little,” pointing at her son. “He should know. It’s not right what he did. You should know.” I turn back to my kids and carry on my conversation. The swans walked away.
Silence lingers for a few more moments. She gets up, walks over, and pulls her son to sit beside her on the bench before she returns to her phone with her friend. After two minutes, they leave.
Her actions leave me wondering: how do you teach your kids about empathy? Or how do you teach them to be good humans if you alone lack both, the empaty and being a human? Also, if the children didn't learn about empathy can they learn about it once when adults? Does the lack of empathy during crucial years make you a bad adult?
If you ask me, I would say yes. It makes me sad to see how people are absorbed in their own worlds and they neglect to guide their children toward empathy. “They said there was only one Hitler.” But was is really? Let’s refrain from raising any more Hitlers, shall we? Or Putins, for that matter. And please put the phones away and pay attention to your kids.
{Story inspired by S.M.}