The Perfect Childhood…Maybe That’s Not What Kids Need At All

By Tammy Moshier

The story goes something like this:  When Martin Luther King, Jr, was a little boy,  he had a group of neighborhood friends.  One day one of the white mothers told him he couldn’t play with her sons anymore.  She told him never to come to the house again.  We’ve all heard some version of this story, usually this time of year, in recognition of MLK day.

I used to show my students a movie that had a re-enactment of this scene.  It was hard to watch an adult be so mean to a young boy.  It was scary to see a grown woman direct so much anger at a little kid.  I would always tell the students that, thank goodness, little Martin ran straight home and told his mother what had happened.  Mothers usually know how to make things all better, and Mrs. King was no exception.  She soothed him and said all the right things.  “People who know better, understand that the color of your skin doesn’t matter.  People who know better don’t act that way.”

Every year, as we celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. and all of his accomplishments, I think about watching that movie with my students.  That scene is the one I remember best.

I remember the discussions we would have.  We always talked about how young Martin probably felt.  The students gave thoughtful answers:  sad, confused, angry.  How did the little white boys feel?  Again, sad, confused, angry.

I didn’t ask the students this question:  “How did Mrs. King feel that night?”  I’m betting I know.  Mrs. King probably felt helpless or full of rage.  She had to be full of emotion on the inside. But on the outside, at least when she was in front of her son, she was calm.  She made her decision out of love.  And her little man turned out just fine.

What I didn’t ask the children, but what I still wonder about today is this: How did the white mother feel that night?  There’s no easy answer.  Was she relieved that she had “fixed” the problem.  Was she sad because she was simply doing what her racist husband told her to do?  Was she confused herself because she knew how well the boys played together?  Did she know deep down that what she did was wrong or was she was blinded with hatred? That’s the piece of the story I would love to hear.  Whatever the motivation, she probably made her decision out of fear or hatred, and that’s never a good thing.

As a mother,  I would put myself in Mrs. King’s shoes each time I would watch that scene.  I would  want to march over to that white lady’s house and give her a piece of my mind.  The mother bear in me would want to make things right.

Maybe the two mothers did have a throw down that never made it to the history books.  I would love to know.  But here’s what I keep thinking about.

Maybe what we want for our children isn’t the thing that’s going to make them great.  Maybe what we want for our children isn’t what’s best for them in the long run.  Sometimes, true greatness may come out of the very deep heart break we try so hard to shield our children from.

No mother wants her child to be hurt or isolated or offended.  But the incident that happened when King was just a little boy was a key moment.  It shaped who he was going to be.  Maybe he had to feel the sting of discrimination himself in order to have the drive to want to eliminate discrimination for others.

What if King’s mother had “fixed” everything the way parents want to do?  What if she had found other white friends for him?  What if she convinced her husband that the family should pack up and move?  In today’s world, we would put the kid in therapy and label him a victim and treat him for anxiety.

But Mrs. King’s simple and honest explanation  may have set things in motion.  Maybe the hurt had to happen.  Of course, Mrs. King would never have chosen that for her son, but maybe it had to be.  It’s hard to imagine what it was like to be a parent during that time and watch the injustices of society play out in the neighborhood group of kids.

Today’s parenting issues can seem superficial compared to what parents faced during that time.

The movie shows Mrs. King as a pillar of strength and kindness as her son explained why he was crying.  I always wondered what happened later.

I wonder if Mrs. King cried that night.  I bet she did.  I wonder if she couldn’t wait for her husband to get home so he would hold her.  I wonder if she called her own mother for comfort and reassurance that she had said the right things.

As I think about Martin Luther King, Jr., this is always the scene that sticks with me.  I want to take a lesson from his good moma.

Most parents want their children to have a perfect childhood.  That’s a pretty hard goal to achieve.  And maybe that’s the wrong goal.   Maybe the bumps and bruises that we try so hard to avoid are the very struggles that are molding our children into the people they are supposed to be and the lives they are supposed to live.  Maybe  they will be kinder, stronger and more resilient because of these bumps in the road.

So, the story goes that Mrs. King was calm and wise when her little boy cried his heart out.  The story goes that she comforted him and sent him on his way.  His life certainly was not perfect, but he turned out OK.  It’s a pretty good parenting lesson.  Rather than trying to put our children in a bubble, I wonder if we should focus on teaching resilience. Maybe creating the perfect childhood shouldn’t be the dream.  Maybe teaching compassion in all circumstances and grit when the times get hard would be a better goal.

I think Dr. King and his mother would agree.