The Free Range Child

This kind of lunacy was set up by the criminals that abduct or attempt to abduct children as they wait at their bus stop. And by the idiots driving that hit/injure/kill the children with their vehicles as they wait at their bus stop.

 

Spot on.

 

Does anybody have stats on the number of children who've ever been kidnapped from a bus stop or run down while standing at one?

 

Don't ask. I think the number is very low, but it is still very scary.

This is the greyest area for a school.

If there is a fight at a bus stop, we punish the kids. So they are in a way under the school supervision.

But is there any way to stop something from happening before the bus arrives? No.

 

I personally know of three children injured or killed by cars waiting at bus stops and the number of abductions/attempted abductions is somewhere in the neighborhood of ten.

 

My family jokes about it all the time, although looking back on it, I think it was a great way to raise children. My parents were both teachers -- my dad, a high school music teacher; my mom, a kindergarten teacher. They both worked on the marching band staff, which didn't allow them to be home until 10 p.m. on Monday and Wednesdays and after noon on Saturdays during the fall. They each taught private lessons until 9 p.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

I had a lot of freedom from the age of 8. My parents didn't know -- at least they didn't let on -- where I was most of the time. I went to the elementary school up the street to play baseball, basketball, football and hockey on the weekends, and I rarely came home from school until 6 p.m. after school. They rarely asked me where I was or with whom I was spending time. Sometimes I'd take my six-year-younger brother, too, and they were just happy I was spending time with him -- no matter where we were.

When I was 17, I got a girlfriend, and we spent a lot of our time in my bedroom with the doors closed. Sometimes we were doing dirty things, and sometimes we were playing Super Nintendo. But they didn't care -- at least they never said anything -- and always knocked. We left the house one time, and I told my dad where I was going. He said, "Why are you telling me?" All I could say was, "I don't know."

I thought this was a horrible way to raise parents when I was in college. And up until about a year ago, I was convinced they'd screwed up the family because of their neglect. But I don't think that's the case at all. My sister and I -- she's six years older than me -- are well-adjusted, mature, responsible, independent adults with good careers and strong ethics and morals. I don't think we'd be the same if my parents had "coddled" us, or whatever word you want to use.

My mom feels bad about not spending time with us, so she, now that she's retired and has the money, tries to "make up" for not spending time with us by buying us things or paying for debts. It makes her feel better. She's told my grandma that she wishes she could have spent more time with us and been a better parent. But I think my parents did just fine with the four kids they had.

Could they have done a better job? Of course. But I wouldn't change much. The freedom did more for me than anything else they could have given me.

 

Well-adjusted?

 

Well, I use that term loosely.

 

Mike,

That sounds like my childhood except my mom was home. We'd just go out in the neighborhood for hours and be home for dinner.

No girlfriends in the bedroom, though.

 

Looking back, except for the fun I had in college, those were the best days of my life. There really wasn't a worry in my life outside of the Mets' game that night.

I was the only one of my friends whose parents allowed the significant other in the room. My girlfriend's parents required the door to be open. We'd generally only go over there to eat dinner.

 

I've lived in Toronto for over 30 years and have never heard of a single instance of a child abduction from a school bus stop. I mean, never. I

The whole child abduction thing borders on--no, crosses over--into hysteria.

 

Well I'm glad for you that you have never heard of an incident. I suppose I live in a crack-pot part of the world, because it happens here. Nothing hysterical about it in my neck of the woods. It's a reality.