President’s Note
Some time ago we did a very popular exhibit at the Missouri History Museum on the evolution of “Sesame Street” as the longest running children’s television program. It first went on the air in 1969, and its influence on our children and our culture has been phenomenal. I had never been a big fan of “Sesame Street,” not because I disliked it, but rather because I had not watched the show much and was unaware of its power. Last week I sat in front of the television with Zane, our 20-month-old grandson who lives with us. I am now finally getting to know Bert and Ernie, Oscar, Grover, Cookie Monster, Big Bird, and the other denizens of that place called Sesame Street. And I now know Mr. Snuffleupagus’s first name. It’s Aloysius.
Toddler Zane is not the only grandchild who lives with us. Our household also includes grandson Eric, a high school freshman, and his sister Sara, who is almost 13. Our lives, Kathy’s and mine, are upside down in wonderful ways that have us both rethinking definitions of leadership and service.
This was not exactly the plan Kathy and I had at this stage of our lives when so many people deservedly look forward to retirement and the good life, however they define it. We listen to contemporaries talk about travel, hobbies, second homes, and the freedom that comes with a flexible schedule. Friends call us on the spur of the moment to have dinner, forgetting those years in their own pasts when every move required advanced planning, babysitters, kids’ meals, curfews, and taxi service for teenagers. But we wouldn’t trade it.
After the City Charter Reform effort and my term on the St. Louis School Board, I thought about my future civic engagement. I was a little singed after those efforts. Sometimes I saw myself as Don Quixote tilting at civic windmills or as a moth inexorably drawn to the flames of nearly impossible causes. Kathy has had similar thoughts, for her life too has been one of public service. Every one in this room this evening is committed in some way to pursuit of the common good. My definitions of the common good have changed over the years. It’s not that my earlier definitions were wrong. After all, many of you grew up at a time when we were convinced that the world was perfectible. Our attitudes were a generational expression of the hubris of the young who know the future is theirs. What generation did not think that parents got it all wrong? And wasn’t that an impetus and a challenge to make it right?
My biggest insight from the school board experience is that the problems with education are not child problems, but rather a consequence of adults not performing our sacred duty to prepare the next generation to inherit the earth. Instead we were putting all kinds of short-sighted self-interests above the more important interests of the children. At school board meetings I would listen to the shenanigans and create mental images of the 35,000 children who counted on our schools to give them an honest chance in life. Many of these children were not failed just by schools, but also by parents, poor health care access, the economics of poverty, a dearth of role models, and a larger culture that I don’t think values children enough. Just look at what adults pitch at them on television and the Internet and in music and music videos and fashion advertising.
So Kathy and I are back to raising children. When Zane first came to us, a friend wrote us a note. “At first,” she said, “you will want to go home because you think he needs you, and then you will go home because you realize you need him.” That’s why I know Snuffleupagus’s first name.
Raising children is the most important thing we do in our lives. It is not about the career; it is not about the house, the exotic vacation, or the bank account. It is about the children. If we really care about the children and really look out for them, we will also pay attention to all those other attributes of a good, safe, healthy community for them, and for all of us. We will be certain our region is strong and we will do what we can to ensure that the children inherit a healthy planet. But it must begin at home—with Zane and Eric and Sara—and spread out to the rest of the community.
The most important task before us, the most rewarding challenge we will undertake, the finest gift we can offer to our region is our children whom we have loved and taught and cherished. That’s what matters most of all, to me, to you, to the future.
Robert R. Archibald, Ph.D.
President, Missouri History Museum