Character Awards

& inflexible thinkers in the NC Senate

This week Richard and I had to keep a big secret from Bea—we’d been invited by her guidance counselor to a secret awards ceremony at school. Richard wasn’t able to make it because of work, but I promised to take pictures, and we successfully avoided spilling the beans.

On Tuesday afternoon I arrived right at 2:00, and was directed to a large room where parents, grandparents, and a few younger siblings waited for the event. We heard the principal call names of kids to report to the office—I wondered if anyone thought they were in trouble!—and shortly after that Ms. Muñoz, their counselor, led the students into the room. We’d inadvertently taken their chairs, so they quickly decided to sit on the floor— “we’re flexible thinkers,” Ms. Muñoz said as the kids got settled.

One by one she called them up and read a certificate, inscribed with specific praise from their teachers. We heard about their bright smiles, their eagerness to help, their great attitudes about teamwork and learning. Many of the kids looked honestly terrified, but they looked proud too. Over and over we heard that these kids are always ready to help, that they put the needs of others first, that they never let anyone feel left out.

Parents smiled, nodded proudly, and snapped photos as each child’s attributes were shared. I imagine that, like us, they hold these traits—helpfulness, kindness, inclusiveness—above every test or academic skill. I feel lucky that Bea goes to a school with so many great kids, and especially that she goes to a school that recognizes kindness so consistently. Every day, when I drop the kids off or pick them up, I hear students recognized over the loudspeaker for what are essentially acts of character—working to solve problems in a group, helping a teacher or a bus driver, showing leadership with younger kids. On our fridge, we have a calendar of kind acts the school sent home. The bulletin boards at school are filled with “thank you’s” to kids and teachers.

For all these reasons I trust Bea and Harriet’s teachers and administrators, and I value them for the community they’ve created for our kids. I think most parents who choose to send their kids to public school trust teachers, librarians, counselors, principals. But in North Carolina (as in Florida and Texas and an increasing number of states), right-wing politicians are trying to tell us that we shouldn’t.

On the same day that Bea’s school gave out character awards, the NC Senate passed, along party lines, the “Parents’ Bill of Rights.” Similar to many targeted regulation of abortion provider laws, this is a euphemistically named law that takes rights away from people, and assumes that right-wingers like Amy Galey (Republican NC senator from Alamance) know more about an issue than professionals doing their jobs. This law would make reproductive health and sex education classes optional, would prohibit lessons on reproductive health and sex ed before fifth grade, and would prohibit teachers and counselors from discussing or even acknowledging LGBTQ+ identities. It would force schools to “out” kids using pronouns different from those on their birth certificates to their parents, allow parents to see what their kids are checking out (or have ever checked out) from the school library, and give parents the right to “inspect” school curriculum and textbooks before use. According to Galey, “When the teacher is asked questions by the children that are not pertinent to the curriculum … the teacher should tell the child, ‘Ask your mom and dad.'” And if you have two moms or two dads—that’s a thing we can never speak of.

At Bea’s character ceremony, each kid stood close to the guidance counselor, who put her arm around them as she slowly read each award. They leaned in close to the certificate, eyes wide, to see the kinds of attributes their teachers admired in them.

Kindness.

Helpfulness.

The biggest smile.

Never leaving anyone out.

Reading about this bill on Tuesday afternoon, all I could think about was what a character ceremony would look like in the kind of school that NC Republicans like Galey envision. Would all those kids feel free to stand close to Ms. Muñoz, or to go to her with a difficult problem? (Only 40% of LGBTQ+ young people live in homes that affirm their idenities.) Would they feel free to browse all the shelves of the library or to check out any book they wanted? Will they grow up to be the kinds of kids I think all of us in that room are trying to raise, the kind of kid who is a friend to all, who never lets anyone feel left out (and who also never gets left out)?

I trust my kids’ teachers. I believe in public schools—I love our public school. And I know that our governor will veto this bill once it gets to him (as it likely will, as it has before). But the line between what we have and a veto-proof majority is razor-thin. That North Carolina could become the kind of nightmare “don’t-say-gay” state like Florida or Texas is both unthinkable and very possible.

It’s really rainy today, so we’ll miss the raptor event. But I’m headed in a little while to volunteer with other parents and teachers at the PTA thrift store, so I’m excited about that.

Harriet has been making these adorable heart valentines by folding paper in half, painting half a heart design on one side, then pressing the paper together and unfolding:

She calls them rainbow hearts.

And Bea has a joke for you:

Q: What do you call the room at school that’s full of different marine mammals?

A. The multi-porpoise room!

See you soon, Frog Troublers! Stay safe and dry!