A few weeks ago my daughter, out of the blue, said “You know
Dad, Vermont is a really great place to grow up. I’m glad we live here.”
I was curious as to what prompted this unsolicited comment
from a 16-year-old girl whose current mode of communication is primarily a
variety of cold-shoulder shrugs and eye-rolls. “I mean,” she went on, “I’m
fully expecting to leave the state for college and probably for a while after
that, but I can’t imagine a better place to have been raised.”
Her three older brothers are all in the process of applying
to college. It has been a roller-coaster ride of standardized testing,
last-minute forays onto the “common app,” frightening conversations with
financial aid professionals, and anguished pleadings with teachers. My daughter
has quietly watched these proceedings with little or no comment. But I can tell
it has given her a real-world perspective on what lies ahead for her when it’s
her turn to leap into the vast, unknown arena called college.
I have the joy of doing a lot of travelling around the
state, and while I am most familiar with Montpelier and the surrounding Central
Vermont area, I can attest that there are many communities all over Vermont
that share the same qualities and characteristics that have embraced my
family—particularly my children.
Anyone reading this blog can imagine for him or herself what
makes Vermont a special place. It’s probably the combination of ready access to
the great outdoors, the opportunity to discover where your healthy food
actually comes from, the joy of encountering creative people from all walks of
life on a daily basis, and boasting rights for “hosting” Ben & Jerry’s as
well as Heady Topper. The list is endless.
For me it comes down to what matters for the children. Not
just MY children. All children.
And here’s the rub…even in Vermont, with all its beauty and
access to wealth and food, an extraordinary number of children are going to bed
hungry, waking up hungry, and wearing triple hand-me-downs that no longer keep
out the cold. They are unable to keep up with their homework, unable to stay
late at school for band or chorus or soccer practice because their parents have
no way to get them home except by the bus that leaves at 3 pm.
I had the privilege of participating in the Governor’s Early
Childhood Summit in mid-October. It was eye-opening. Depending on the issue,
anywhere from 20% to 40% of Vermont schoolchildren are suffering from the lack
of SOMETHING—food, transportation, parents with parenting skills, after-school
activities, counseling, creative play, joy, inspiration. Art.
At one point during the Summit, the 200 attendees broke up
into groups. We were asked to share who we are and what we bring to the summit.
Listening to the 30 or so people in my group describe their jobs (teacher,
counselor, health-care provider, truant officer, program administrator) and
what they need in order to provide a barely adequate amount of service to kids
in real need, I realized how truly blessed my family is.
When it came to my turn, all I could do was quote Antoine
Saint-Exupery. “If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people together to
collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to
long for the endless immensity of the sea.”
I suggested that the arts field is always available to help people
explore their dreams and aspirations. It is not enough simply to provide a
prescription or sessions with a counselor or a probation officer. We have to
find a way to inject a sense of wonder, excitement, and curiosity in our young
people. If we fail at that, they will never learn, never discover themselves,
never live up to their innate potential.
My children are lucky. They have grown up in a community
that offers the Adamant Quarry Works theater in which they performed as 9- and
10-year olds (friends performed with Lost Nation Theater, let’s not forget
them!). They also had the privilege and luck to grow up in a community that
valued chorus and band as much as soccer and field hockey; where the fall
musical is as well-attended as the boys’ basketball playoff; and where the
community cinches its collective belt a little tighter each year to make sure
that the school budget -- the annual investment we make in our kids -- gets passed
at Town Meeting Day. But each year the vote is closer, the money tighter, the
number in need slightly larger, the news more sobering.
Somehow we have to refocus our attention away from systems
that only reward individual achievement and towards activities and people that
serve the public good. Vermont’s non-profit sector embraces education,
medicine, social services, the arts, and much, much more. As a whole it is THIS
sector that makes Vermont truly stand apart from other states.
I submit it is Vermont’s nonprofits—all of them—working
diligently, collaboratively, and effectively to improve everyone’s quality of
life that makes my daughter want to live here. In the context of its nonprofit
sector it actually is possible to imagine a Vermont in which no child is left
behind.
In the spirit of the season, then, I encourage you to be
generous with your tax-deductible contributions. Together, we can continue to
move Vermont forward; investing in our kids and in our future.
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