On my left forearm, I have a half-sleeve tattoo of an illustration from Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are, ink that represents my hope for my sons: the ability to use imagination and reflection to confront and overcome the struggles we all face, to look monsters in the eyes and tame them.
Where the Wild Things Are opens with Max making “mischief of one kind and another,” and then disappearing to the land “where the wild things are.” Despite the frightening and “terrible” nature of these beasts, Max is able to tame them and return to the world he had previously fled. His ability to control his inner turmoil (the beasts) is something I wish for every child.
The book opens with Max wearing a wolf costume, presumably purchased for him to encourage imaginative play. In the first frame of the story, he stands atop two thick books, indicating a home environment where people are literate and well read. The second frame shows a picture he has drawn that hangs on the wall, illustrating his access to art supplies. His mother sends him to his room without supper because he has misbehaved, not because she can’t afford to put food on the table. Max has his own room with a comfortable bed, a side table with a beautiful potted plant and a window that offers him a pretty view and fresh air.
Max is not representative of all kids in the United States.
According to a 2015 study by the Urban Institute, four out of every 10 children live below the national poverty line for at least one year of their childhood. One in 10 lives below the poverty line for at least half of their childhood. For this latter group, the odds of completing high school by the age of 20 drop 13 percent compared with children in the former group, and the odds of completing college drop 43 percent. There is no doubt there is a link between economic status and educational success. Families living in poverty may be forced to choose between paying for electricity and paying for books and paints; school funding patterns often shortchange schools in lower-income neighborhoods. We can’t simply ignore the academic disadvantages these gaps create—or deny our part in the systems that perpetuate them.
Clearly, there are children who grow up in poverty who are academically successful. And there are children living in affluence who experience stressors that negatively impact their educational success. But it is not a level playing field—some kids have the benefit of private tutors, private coaches and all the materials they need to pursue their interests while other kids don’t. An education system that is meant to serve the public must try to close the gap.
I can’t fix a broken system. I don’t know the answers to the questions Sendak’s simple children’s story raises for me. But I do know that I love books and not every one of my students lives in a house filled with them. I often loan books out to students. I have bought used copies and given them away to kids who show an interest.
I know an art teacher who now and then gives a kid in need some of her personal art supplies. I know a guidance counselor who has created a food pantry and who eats breakfast with anybody who may be hungry before school starts. I know a math teacher whose students make bagged lunches and who then drives them over to a park to give to people who are hungry. I know coaches who have purchased practice gear, music directors who have donated sheet music and teachers who have offered free tutoring.
Max tamed the wild things of his world through courage and imagination, but he didn’t do it alone. He also had resources. So keep a careful watch. Find those kids who, despite a lion’s share of courage and imagination, have not been dealt a fair portion of resources and opportunities. Then offer them not a handout, but a hand. Show them through your simple action that you recognize they are playing a game with unfair rules and that you want fairness. Some will say you are treating them like “charity cases,” but there are ways to help based in empowerment rather than pity. You are helping to give them what you would want for your own kids or other young relatives, plain and simple.
As simple as a children’s story. All kids deserve the chance to close their eyes and tame the demons that lurk inside—or outside. Sometimes the way to do that is to disappear into a book, paint, write, compose or just play. Sometimes those things require a little help.
Knoll is a writer and English teacher at a public school in New Jersey.
