Out of the Mouths of Babes

I was leafing through the News Press this morning, seeing if there was bigger news than my oatmeal exploding all over the microwave. (Who knew that stuffy-looking Quaker had weapon of mass destruction potential?) It was impossible to ignore the headline on the front page: “DAY CARE HORROR,” the article screamed. Obviously the author was unused to a typical day at a daycare, where little horrors are run of the mill. Can we say projectile vomit?

In all seriousness, yesterday’s day care shooting was a chilling realization of any parent or teacher’s worst nightmare. As a former pre-school teacher, yesterday’s events caused me to question how I would have reacted to such a dangerous situation.

It’s a rather spicy bit of news for the sleepy Cape. Yet who, god bless them, do the journalists decide to interview? A three-year old.

I’m sorry, but how much information are you going to get out of a three-year old, even if she was a witness? All this “Last time we were in there, we saw a monster” crap, reeks of spoonfeeding to me. A child of that age is not often that articulate, and even when they are, their words and actions are colored by active imaginations and emotions. I used to talk with my pre-schoolers about what they ate for breakfast, and one little girl told me frequently: “Mommy made me snails!”

Not to discount the experience of this poor kid, I’m sure that she was as “scared” as she told the reporters. It’s a dreadful experience for anyone, nonetheless a child. But why are we interviewing her, for pete’s sake? She’s had a rough enough time already. Sooner talk to a teacher or another adult who was in the building, and leave the kids alone. I’d much prefer the inside detail from an adult commentary than an abject ploy at sentimentality from the exploitation of a small child.