Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and I have made a special card for each of my 6 best pals (boys and girls) and one very special one for the young man who makes me laugh. It’s heart shaped and I have drawn a picture of what is meant to be me laughing and written “You make me laugh, you’re a gas, gas, gas.” (he is a Stones fan)
Back then we didn’t buy Valentine cards, we made them and we discreetly slipped them into coat pockets, books and desks and many went unsigned. It was thrilling and terrifying and one of my favourite days as a kid.
On THE day I put my card in Robbie’s desk, I had taken a risk and signed it. I was on pins and needles. I sat behind him and a row over so I was watching when he found it, read it and blushed red as an apple. He snuck a peek around my way, I looked at the floor. I received a half dozen or so cards that day and two were unsigned, I hoped one was from Mr.Brown. At the end of the day as we waited for the bus Robbie shyly came over to me to say “Thanks for the really nice card Patti.” I waited and he added, “I wish I had made one for you.”
That was probably the first time I realized what keeping a stiff upper lip meant, I kept mine rigid because it seemed to be keeping the tears in. I mumbled something and thanked my stars that my bus had arrived. I ran on, took a seat in the back and hid under my bangs.
That night I asked my mom if we could move far away and when she asked why I told her through huge tears what had happened. She explained that there were all kinds of reasons why Robbie didn’t have a card for me - he might have been too shy to give me one, perhaps he had no idea that his pal Patti thought he was special. She told me I had to admire him for the courage he showed in thanking me for the card and that was worth more than paper anyway. She also told me that there may be times in my life when I really liked someone, perhaps even LOVED them, and they may not feel the same.
The next day I avoided Robbie at all costs and then at lunch time I found a handmade card in my boot. It was a red construction paper heart and on it Robbie had written a poem:
thanks for the card
i like when you laugh hard
your friend Robbie
Wow, I can't describe what that felt like but I see it in my daughter when she looks at a particular boy in her class. She beams.
Will she get a Valentine from him today? Yes, current thinking assures that every kid gets a Valentine from every kid. Only the ones with candies attached get any attention, but it is fleeting and the candy giver barely gets a nod, by lunchtime the recycling bin is overflowing with 625 cards, every mom is out 10 bucks and not one kid has felt elation, disappointment, embarrassment, disillusionment, joy or any of the other many emotions that will fill their lives and with which they need lots of practice.
I explained all this to my 8 year old last night and then asked if there was anyone she hoped to get a special card from and she told me yes there was. I suggested then that she make a special one for that lad. He may not have a special one for her but if she took the time and gave it to him he would know she thought he was special and that was the greatest gift she could give a friend. She set her alarm a half hour early, came down to the kitchen table this morning to create the card and she added a short poem: you make me smile, you are worthwhile, Clancy
I look forward to hearing about it this afternoon. They will have both learned something from this little experiment in honesty and courage and I’ll be curious to see how he responds.
But the other 625 cards will end up in the big blue bin outside by the trash. The same place all the other misguided notions should go. The idea that everyone gets an A, a present, a candy, or makes the team regardless of effort or character is ridiculous.
We have no right to complain that “kids today have an insane sense of entitlement” - we gave it to them.
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