Last April, I had the immense privilege of becoming a mother. My darling daughter was born healthy, making me, for the first time, a fulfilled, happy, serene mother.
Today, as I held my now nine-month-old daughter in my arms, my heart sank, my body stiffened, my smile faded, my eyes watered as I stared at the news. I had the reflex to curl up against her, to stroke her hair and tell her, in the hollow of her ear, how precious she is to me, how much I love her.
Stakeholders. The bus. Children. The parents. Helplessness. These emergency images and this vision of horror have been spinning in my head ever since, when I have the immense privilege of holding my daughter close to me, of knowing that she is safe.
But, like so many other parents I’m sure, I can’t help thinking, worrying, feeling deeply angry. What if my child had been in daycare? How will these parents manage to survive? How will these educators go about reintegrating into their profession? Who can be so sick or so unscrupulous to act like this?
Because while we try our best to protect our children, to keep them away from danger, to accompany them gently, to control obstacles… While we try to assess the risks and limit the threats… That’s it that we attack our precious ones, that we attack their place of safety, that we aim for the place where we should be able to leave them with a light heart.
These little bits, full of humanity and innocence, are already the target of our collective ills, our lack of resources, our problems as adults.
So what’s left if we go after our children? Can we just let them be children so they can grow up to do better than us?