This morning as I was heading home, after delivering my eldest to his place of employment, I spied a preschool group being taken for an outing.

I remember when I would take out my crew when they were little. The arguments, debates, corralling, struggling, last minute snacks, finally stepping out the door and having to return for a quick run up to the bathroom. Once out in the great wide world; multiple stops to look down sewers, investigate bugs, pick up sticks, patting trees; different methods of ambulating;  the ‘crossing the road’ death grip and the release onto the other side or into the green space; quick ‘on a mission’ walks, meandering ‘we have all the time in the world’ wanders…

The preschool group had three attending adults, front, middle, back, and the kids were strung between them, attached to a rope (a handle I think or maybe one of those velcro wrist cuffs) at regular intervals.  All these little sparkling bits of possibility and adventure trudging along like Roman slaves, or a chain gang.  Corralled, led, controlled.  Logically, I understand the whys and what fors of this kind of arrangement.  They are being kept safe.  The adult to child ratio does not allow for free roaming.  For me, who only put my first born in a playpen twice and never used one again because I had Cole Porter via David Byrne singing ‘Don’t Fence Me In’, it was kind of heartbreaking.  I often wonder about the long term damage that is being done by institutionalizing our population so young.