Independence Day

By Nina Rubin

A story in the New York Sun entitled "Why I Let My 9 Year Old Ride the Subway Alone" quickly shot to this paper's "most emailed" list, and also prompted a story on Slate.com.  It all reminded me of Jaws first independent subway trip when he was 12 and in 7th grade. 

In a provoking (in a good way) account in the New York Sun, writer Lenore Skenazy outs herself as a mother who let her 9-year-old son ride home by himself on a New York subway and bus. Yes, he transferred. She reports that her son arrived "ecstatic with independence." And also that half the people she has told "want to turn me in for child abuse." Only half?

Skenazy understands why other parents recoiled at a decision that wasn't all that daring, rationally speaking. It's not simply that parents think of every horrendous kidnapping story and so decide not to take any chance—however tiny—that something unspeakably awful will happen to our children.

So when did the notion of parent-as-bodyguard begin to prevail, and does it connect to the endless tug of war over where and how mothers should spend their time?

Unlike the Manhattan mother of the 9 year old, Jaws' blow for independence was completely unpremeditated and a tad defiant, but luckily for all of us, it had a happy ending. Now that he's 21 and alive and well, I still love telling about it.  It was a turning point for all of us.  A true Independence Day.

It was a Saturday in early spring, and Jaws and a pack of 7th grade friends (boys and girls) had tickets to a Mets game.  Back then we lived in a suburb of Long Island on the same train line that stops at Shea Stadium where the Mets play.  Not every parent was comfortable sending kids alone on the train to Shea Stadium, but having grown up with parents who rode the subways and allowed me age-appropriate opportunities to strike out on my own, I was fine with it.  Going to the ball game with a group of friends seemed to me like the perfect way to give middle school kids some rope and and have a lot of fun.  Jaws and his friends would take the train. They'd get off at Flushing Meadow, walk across the pedestrian bridge to the stadium, watch the game, rinse and reverse.

However, it rained buckets that Saturday.  And as I dropped Jaws off at the train station, the bedraggled group was debating whether or not to bag the game and wondering if it would be "called" and rescheduled. I was certain the game would be called, but I suggested that they all go for pizza downtown and call me when they figured out Plan "B."  So imagine my surprise when Jaws called and hour and a half later and said, "Hi Mom. We're in Times Square."  That's 42nd Street and Broadway...the heart of New York City.

When I recovered from this startling news, stopped yelling that nobody had given anybody permission to embark on this kind of freelance adventure, and made him promise swear in blood to be home on the 5:44 train, I hung up and actually laughed. 

I had to give them credit.  They came up with quite a cool Plan "B."  And they had cell phones.

Despite its legacy as a den of iniquity and a gritty urban crossroads, Times Square circa 2000 was hardly a scary neighborhood anymore.  I should know.  I worked at 44th and Broadway for 7 years at the only major advertising agency west of Madison and north of 23rd street. I'd seen Times Square morph into a respectable commercial crossroads where rising rents had driven out most of the peep shows, the Tads $4.99 steakhouses the Cuban-Chinese restaurants and even Papaya King.  (Poor suburban kids, they'll never have the Papaya King experience.) Increasingly, hotels and chain stores like Disney, Nike and Urban Outfitters had moved in, turning the once tawdry landmark intersection into, well, a suburban mall without a roof. 

The kids had a swell time, stuck together in their little rat pack, and were indeed on the 5:44 which chugged into the Port Washington station at 6:50.  From that day onward, New York City was fair game.  Jaws took some more group forays into the city to see movies, go to museums, and just "hang."  By 10th grade he got active in the Reform Jewish youth movement, and luckily for me, once independent suburban chapters on Long Island and Westchester couldn't afford youth advisors anymore and the NY region merged.  Hallelujah!  Now there were meetings at the denominational HQ's in midtown Manhattan, and "cool" kids from NYC private schools and elite public schools like Stuyvesant and Hunter were on my kid's radar. Even better . . . no more 11:00 pm pick-ups in godforsaken Long Island suburbs like Massapequa and Plainview.  Eventually I didn't have to drive anybody anywhere but the Long Island RR train station.  Some parents were horrified, but not me.  By 10th grade my kid had the subways down pat and had bright, committed Jewish friends in Brooklyn, Queens and Riverdale, the fancy part of the Bronx. 

My kids was worldly.  A subway maven.  He pored over the subway maps as if they were the Dead Sea Scrolls. Once, when I was trying to figure out how to avoid Penn station and take the subway from midtown to Woodside, Queens where the Long Island Railroad kicks in, I called Jaws on my cell phone.  "Oh yeah Mom, it's easy," he said. "Take the Shuttle to Grand Central and then the #7 to Woodside." 

We never looked back, none of us, from that Independence Day. Riding public transportation and figuring it out, has made my kids stronger, more curious and far less "flappable."  If only Atlanta had more public transportation...well, we're working on it.  Meanwhile, Grumble is an airport pro...he's been flying to NY, Washington and Florida on his own for years and will be doing a rather daring little maneuver over Memorial Day weekend, going from L.I. to Manhattan and then taking the subway to Brooklyn.  Are you impressed?  I am.

 

Comments

[lizyb]

I teach middle and high school. Everyday I see the result of the parent-as-bodyguard “trend” aka helicopter parents. Some of these kids can’t wipe their noses without whipping out the cell phone and calling a parent! Never mind that they are not supposed to use their cell phones in school. Quite frequently, it is the parents texting their kids during the school day. I have – I kid you not – received an irate e-mail from a parent about something that has transpired in class before the class period is over! As a group, I find my students quite unskilled at planning, organizing their thoughts and making decisions on their own. Seeing this outcome, I am very pleased that my own kids can make independent decisions and – horror of horrors – things do not always turn out well. The happy outcome is that they then learn how to do it better the next time around!

[Penelope]

Good for you!! I went off to boarding school at the age of 11 and flew from England to Germany alone at that age. After that, juggling the London Tube system and various trains from school to home was a walk in the park.
I'm all for giving kids some independence, at least they all carry phones now, we never had them when we were adventuring.

[Daisy]

Good for you! My teen has learned the local bus routes with the help of his mobility instructor. He has to know how to get around; he's blind, he won't drive. He has talked about moving to a big city with good public transportation.

[Sylvia]

Bravo!

[Sam]

My little sister is 10 and if we lived in a safer part of the city (we're in the shitty section of the Bronx) I'd totally let her leave home and go into midtown if somebody was meeting her. She's allowed to go a few places by herself but she's not allowed to come home or leave home alone because it's not safe.