I sometimes wonder about the cost of constant supervision to a child’s development. It seems that the new social expectation is to either hawk over our children, assessing every risk while sheltering them from all potential harm – whether real or imagined. Or put a remote in their hands and have the TV keep them entertained – so long as they’re physically safe from the apparent dangers of the outside world.

We’ve all heard about the Maryland parents that were charged with child neglect after allowing their two free range kids to walk home from the park unsupervised. If these concerned people had seen the way I grew up, they’d be appalled. We had little to no supervision and, in the time before video games, found entertainment wherever we could. Our teeter totter, for example, was a forty foot grain auger that, when balanced out, would send a kid 20 feet off the ground. The kid on the bottom only hopped off once sending the other crashing to the ground with a loud metallic clank of farm equipment. Lesson leaned. By the time I was 8 or 9 I was hacking my way through the Florida swamps with a machete searching for cottonmouths. If you pin their bodies with a stick close behind the head you can grab them without much risk. My cousins and I made big sport out of this.

We watched Saturday morning cartoons but as soon as breakfast was done we were kicked out with strict instructions not to return until dinner. If my mother’s threats didn’t carry enough weight, my dad had a wonderful way of ensuring compliance. If I did have the misfortune of being discovered watching TV in the middle of a nice summer day, he’d promptly find something more productive for me to do. Pulling nails from old lumber, picking up sticks, cleaning horse stalls… the opportunities were endless. In addition to learning to stay out or the house, I learned quickly to never claim boredom – an action that would elicit the “well then, let’s find something for you to do” response from pops. As a result I found plenty of things to keep busy, mostly in the river bottoms and swamps surrounding our place. And there, I learned many of the skills I still use today.

I didn’t realize, and certainly didn’t appreciate it at the time, but I was super fortunate. Growing up with that kind of freedom and autonomy instills a kind of personal responsibility and accountability that seems rare today. You have experiences, learn to solve problems, rely on yourself, cooperate with friends, you make mistakes and you learn from them. As the example from Maryland shows, there is a lot of attention paid to keeping kids physically safe but I can’t help to think this comes at a great cost. Scratches, bruises, and burned fingers are a great teacher.

My two boys are learning the same things I did, albeit on the other side of the continent from where I grew up. At 5 and 7 years, they spend hours in the woods behind our place completely unsupervised and free to build, catch, or wrangle whatever they want, living the life of free range kids. Aside from having to retrieve a tool or two on occasion that’s gone missing from my shop, it’s worked out pretty well. They’re learning to cooperate on projects, inventing traps and building forts. But most importantly, they’re learning that they can do things themselves, so long as they try, and that they’re responsible for their own actions. Two things that seem in short supply today.

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