Cute title, huh? To set the stage, let me go back in time for a moment. When I was a kid growing up (I'm not THAT old!) twenty years ago (Okay, maybe I am old!), the bulk of Jewish literature was comprised of one of two fundamental themes, by which I mean, of course, Holocaust and ba'alei teshuvah (returnees to Orthodox Judaism). This is probably one of the core reasons I found my way to Steinbeck and Hesse. But I digress....

Today, thankfully Jewish literature has become a lot more varied and even exotic (I highly recommend Targum's new novel, The Morning Star, by Meir Uri Gottesman, a phenomenal writer!), but there is a new genre that has exploded, pardon the pun, on the scene which is disturbing to me. I am referring to Moslem extremist/terrorist literature. Here are some excerpts of this emerging genre--all from books geared to kids ages 9-12:

"Will the trio be able to stop the evil terrorists from destroying Bais Yaakov of Bloomfield?!"

"Will Havaja Jamil Abdul El Majnun Chamarah get his long-awaited promotion?"

"The boys want to help prove Alhami innocent by getting the real terrorist, Alwari, convicted. Meshulem has announced his plan to et Alwari back to America from Pakistan to stand trial."

And then, of course, there's a new comic strip where pint-sized FBI agents are nabbing Arab furniture deliverymen in a sting on what they believe is a shady operation.

I have two objections. The first is the articles I have read on sites like JPost and Arutz 7 about how terrible it is that Palestinian children are being indoctrinated with anti-Israel and anti-Semitic rhetoric. It always makes me feel slightly nauseous. So why is it okay for us to push the same kind of doctrine to our children? Are we not "above" such petty and virulent tactics?

And secondly, Islamic extremism is an enormous, gaping threat, not only to the Jewish People but to the entire world. Innocent men, women, and children have been murdered in its name. Does it not belittle, cheapen, and even exploit this terrible monster when we peddle Islamic extremism as a sensationalist, exciting plot for kids' novels? What message are we really giving our children through books and comics like these?

What do YOU think?

My daughter is a born leader. Some kids just are. Thankfully, she is one of those benevolent dictators, and she knows just how to step into a situation and take control. I knew all this, of course. In fact, I have alternately marveled over this, talked to her about this, and spoken to my husband about this "Handle With Care" gift of hers for many years now. On the one hand, it makes her Queen Bee, at the top of the heap. On the other hand, it's painful when she's upended, which happens every once in awhile.

But I never realized the extent of her ruling powers and also the extent of her doting fans. Until yesterday.

"Right my hair is like yours?" Friend A asks, a look of agonizing hopefulness etched clear across her face. "It's like yours but it doesn't look exactly like yours, but it's still like yours, right?"

My heart catches in my throat, like a hairpin, stuck.

"Right," my daughter agrees good-naturedly. She cannot possibly grasp the depth of Friend A's longing. This, I know.

They go outside to play. I hover near them. They are discussing Purim costumes, what they will dress up as. My daughter casually says she wants to be a butterfly (Note: This is a rerun from last year Purim--I get to actually save money!) this year. Immediately, Friend A and Friend B jump in on the idea.

"Let's ALL be butterflies this year!" they clamor. My daughter considers the proposal.

And then my heart really does flip-flops.

Friend B says, "YOU'LL be the Queen Butterfly and we'll be your butterfly servants!"

There is such raw humility in the concept. My daughter is oblivious to this. She excitedly informs me that she, as queen, will have a huge butterfly painted across her face while her two friends-slash-maids will have small butterflies painted on their cheeks.

What makes some kids the queens and others the maids? How do these friends fall in so naturally to that role while my daughter exudes so much power and unhesitating confidence? It stymies me, worries me, excites and horrifies me.

I can't really relate. I was always one of the followers, pining for a chance to get two small butterflies on my cheeks.

My almost-eight very brilliant son whom I love so much was having a conversation with me on Shabbos.

"Mommy," he says slowly, "How c ome Bracha Raiza [my daughter] has long hair but you had short hair when you were little?"  Of course I kvell over his astute early grasp of genetics before bursting his bubble.

"I had short hair because Babby--my Mommy--cut it. Hair grows long unless you cut it."

"Oh." He thinks this over for a moment. Then he says, "Mommy, when I'm older and have a baby girl, will you let me get her ears pierced when she's still in the hospital?"

Lest you think I am a fierce advocate or detractor of early infant ear-piercing, allow me to quickly rise to my own defense and inform you that I have no strong convictions either way. The only time I think ear piercing borders on necessity is when Hashem blesses you with one of those bald, not-quite-feminine-looking girl babies who people constantly mistake for a boy.

But back to my son. I was so touched by the innocence of the question and the heart-breaking premise behind it, namely that I, the parent, would be the decision-maker on through his adulthood and his own child-raising. I gently told him that when he's a father he'll make his own decisions; I will no longer be in charge. He blinked and nodded. I think he knew it intuitively anyway.

I'm sure it is hard to let go when that times comes 'round. For now, I'm content with my role as Chief Earpiercing Officer and Executive Haircut Decider (Long hair only, please. Not that I have childhood haircut trauma or anything!). There is something very magical and astounding about being entrusted with the opportunity to shape my children through my own words, thoughts, and values. Of course, it's also scary as all-out.

Either way, my friend told me I made a mistake in answering my son, Dovid. She said I blew it--I should have told Dovid that I would not let him pierce his daughter's ears; that I should have taken advantage of the opportunity to plant the seeds and assert my role as decision-maker even when he's a grown-up. She's just joking, of course, but the thought is a dangerous one. 

Apron strings are a suffocation hazard.

 

Last night I was interviewing a mental  health professional for an article I'm working on--a major feature article which cracks open a delicate and difficult subject...a subject no one really wants to openly talk about...something "can of wormsish...are you curious yet? I think I'm supposed to keep a lid on things that haven't yet come out so you'll have to wait to see for yourself.

Anyway, this person, very intelligent and highly trained, proposed a theory which struck me with force. What this person said was, "Today's kids are trying to escape their problems and not have to deal with their feelings. Why? Because we (parents) are simply not raising our kids for greatness. Look at the personalities in Tanach, in the Gemara. These people were poets, astronomers, physicians, along with being erudite scholars. They were complex, they were great. Jews are intended for greatness. We are not meant to be average. Yet today's parent is obssessed with their child being 'normal', 'regular', 'fitting in'."

Hmmmmm.... Deep breath.

I dunno. On one side you have the parents complaining that their children, nebbach, aren't geniuses ("To be honest, his IQ is only average, but don't tell the shadchanim; and anyway, those IQ tests don't mean a single thing--he was walking by five months!"), and on the other side you have people clamoring for more greatness in kids, blaming society's ills on the untapped potential we parents fail to encourage in our children. And then you have the kids who end up in therapy, complaining about how their parents always demanded they push themselves to an infinite limit so they lived their childhood always feeling they didn't measure up.

And I wonder to myself: how would a parent, theoretically, raise a child "to greatness", enabling that child to harness his or her creativity without being stifled? Is this potential for greatness truly the responsibility and capability of parents? Could it be, also, school-dependent? Society-dependent? As a kid in Bais Yaakov, when I read the classics, pored over books on Einstein's Theory of Relativity, and expressed a great thirst for knowledge and an aching desire to write, many of those around me did not see this is as a "sign of greatness" to put it mildly :-).

It sounds delicious to raise kids to discover their own innate abilities and allow them to take those abilities to whatever heights they chose, nurturing them in every which way. But, tachlis, how does that happen? What if the parent doesn't have money for violin lessons, chess lessons, art lessons, and a private trigonometry teacher? How much is intrinsic and how much is extrinsic?

What if today's adolescent escape problems don't stem from their frustrated, foiled potential? What other underlying cause might be at play? And who takes the blame?