RaR

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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
solobutnothan
sandersstudies

I sat with a crying second grader today. (The age range is outside my wheelhouse but I was the most convenient adult.) He was crying, the other adults said, because his brother took a phone he was playing on. “Phone addicted,” everybody said. “If he would get up and play games with the other kids he wouldn’t be crying.”

He told me everyone lets his brother take things from him because his brother is younger, and doesn’t know better. He told me he doesn’t want to play because he’s tired, he has too many extracurriculars this summer and can’t get good sleep because “everyone in my camper is so loud when I’m trying to sleep.” He’s exhausted and only eight. His mom’s an acquaintance and told me she and the kid’s father are going through a separation — mom and four kids left the house to stay in a camper.

But people will seriously not listen to kids crying over seemingly minor things because on the surface it looks like a tantrum. If kids are given the space to articulate themselves they often will.

sandersstudies

I’ve found that if a child is capable of having a conversation (that is, old enough to speak and express themselves, not injured or upset so badly that they literally cannot stop crying, and not behaving violently), then 90% of the time their reason for being upset is legitimate, or at least understandable.

sharpasanaro

Please remember that this also applies to teenagers and preteens, they might be acting like a knowitall who doesn’t give a shit, or a first class jerk, but chances are fair they feel like shit for one reason or another and adults just chalk it up to teenage angst instead

solobutnothan
movemequotes: “Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out...
movemequotes

Once a little boy went to school.
One morning
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
“Good!” thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make flowers.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And it was red, with a green stem.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher’s.
It was red, with a green stem.

On another day
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make something with clay.”
“Good!” thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make a dish.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher’s.
It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.

The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
“Good!” thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn’t say anything.
She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy
She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”
“Yes,” said the little boy.
“What are we going to make?”
“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.
“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.
“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.
“And any color?” asked the little boy.
“Any color,” said the teacher.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

kessilwig
infinity-squared-comics

A girl stands alone in a field. The weight of the world is placed on her shoulders.

A farmer walks past. “please. help.” The girl says.

The farmer responds. “can’t you see I’m hauling this load of hay? How selfish must you be, asking me to set aside my own burden to help you”.

The farmer leaves.


A girl stands alone in a field. The weight of the world is placed on her shoulders.

A noblewoman walks past. “please. help.” The girl says.

The noblewoman responds. “Help you? You seem to be managing well on your own. How lazy must you be, asking for me to help a burden you can very well carry”.

The noblewoman leaves.


A girl stands alone in a field. The weight of the world is placed on her shoulders.

A knight walks past. “please. help.” The girl says.

The knight responds. “Whoever would I help you? Every man is given a burden to carry. How weak must you be, asking your burden be relieved”.

The knight leaves.


A girl stands alone in a field. Tears flow down her face. Her back is breaking. Her arms are so weak. She hasn’t felt her legs in days. The weight of the world is still on her shoulders. She lets it go. She is crushed.


News of the girl’s death reaches the capital.

“What a shame” said the farmer. “if only I could have helped”.

“What a shame” said the noblewoman. “if only I could have helped”.

“What a shame” said the knight. “if only I could have helped”.

A great memorial is erected in the capital, honoring the girl who gave so much.

“So selfless” said the farmer.

“So driven” said the noblewoman.

“So strong” said the knight.


“If I had met the girl” says the farmer, “I would’ve taken the weight from her. It would be easy for me to stow it in my cart”.

“If I had met the girl” says the noblewoman, “I would’ve taken the weight from her. I carry so little, it’s the least I could do”.

“If I had met the girl” says the knight, “I would’ve taken the weight from her. I am strong and noble, I could surely carry such a burden more readily than she”.

The girl is still dead.