Learning to Walk

I started walking to school in first grade. Every morning, my dad would wake up early and leash the dog and walk along with me. We lived about half a mile, and the walk was nothing less than enjoyable. Given, when there were hazardous weather conditions we drove, but otherwise walking was nothing less than normal. My father walked with me until third grade, at which point I was allowed to go on my own. He pointed my sister and I in the right direction and simply let us commute alone.

I lived in suburbia. In a safe, clean neighborhood. I spent all of my years walking to and from Prairie Trail Elementary School. When I graduated to middle school, I never expected there to be a change of plans. The middle school was a bit less than a mile, and slightly uphill: as uphill as the Texas plains can be. So, because it was longer, I mostly rode my bike. Rain or shine, early or late I made my way to school with little parental involvement for a full decade of my life. I clearly remember fighting to reach the bike racks at my middle school early so as to be guaranteed a spot. I remember wedging my bicycle into the cool, metal groves and straining to lock it up without attaching another bike along with it.

Yesterday, I took the scenic route to my house in order to avoid extra traffic at the end of my forty-five minute driven commute home. Yesterday, I drove past Lamar Middle School. It wasn't, however, until I pulled into my driveway that I realized what had seemed amiss. The bicycle rack was empty. Suddenly, visual memories flooded me: the huge crowds of running motors surrounding the elementary school, the idle crossing guards, the chaperoned backpackers.

So, I did some research. Statistics show that in 1969, 41 percent of children either walked or biked to school according to the National Household Travel survey. By 2001, that percentage had dropped to 11.

Parents have begun to feel nervous. The publicity of the internet, and the overwhelming power of the media has dramatically influenced this generation of parents. The constant outpour of overpowering news specials and dramatic stories is causing fear. They are meant to cause fear. Yet, this fear-the nervousness parent's feel- is causing dramatic changes in changes in the social patterns of parenting. A recent psychological study from the University of California at Berkeley-spearheaded by Paula S. Fass-, proposes a hypothesis that by driving their children to school parents feel they are protecting them, and thus "It's a conformation that '[they] are a good parent'."

The reality, however, is that childhood obesity is rising at an alarming rate. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, over the past three decades the childhood obesity rate has more than doubled for preschool children aged 2-5 years and adolescents aged 12-19 years, and it has more than tripled for children aged 6-11 years. The reality is that without a decent degree of independence, without the physical activity, our children are going to grow up to be completely dependent, fat adults.

This summer, I went on a world history and aesthetics tour of western Europe. I, and sixteen of my fellow classmates, covered 6 countries and 9 cities in 24 days. An average of 24 miles a day according to the flaky pedometer. 24 miles, by foot. We walked: and in that walking I found comfort, the familiar memories of childhood. They were long, strenuous days. We were hot, and frustrated and annoyed. Yet, we weren't protected. There were days when we hated each other. There was one adult for all sixteen of us. At any moment, one of us could have been pushed into a van and driven to Eastern Europe to become someone's second wife. (We made the mistake of watching "Taken" on the plane ride over). Yet, our parents and our teacher, trusted us to remain responsible: trusted us to stay with the group.

The walking set off a stream of events. The independence associated with that short walk to school every day helps to form the character traits needed for leadership in adults. So maybe, just maybe, this generation of parents needs to accept the nervousness that will occur when their babies leave that first day. Maybe, that difficulty and emotional strain is necessary to help today's children grow into the best adults they can be. Maybe, its time we give our children the physical activity they need to remain healthy. Maybe we should just:

Let. them. walk.