Children's Movement looks to take it up a notch

There's an old joke: "What do dogs hear when we talk to them?"

The punch line is: "Blah, blah, blah, Fido! Fido, fetch! Blah, blah, blah."

Many voters might say our politicians, especially those in Tallahassee, share many of the characteristics of the canines.

They're simply not listening to us with any degree of comprehension.

Oh, they say they are, but unless an issue brings a lot of money or votes (preferably both) to the table, it stands little chance of success in a partisan and "business-friendly" environment.

Legislators obviously don't feel there's a problem with Florida's children.

Yet by any number of statistical measures, Florida treats her kids pretty shabbily. We spend less on them in school than many of our peer states and internationally. More than 18 percent of Florida's children have no insurance; we neglect pre-kindergarten education and special needs kids.

Yet the politicians in Tallahassee are doing their best dog impressions, only hear "Blah, blah, blah, No new taxes, cut out government waste. Blah, blah, blah."

That's what the leaders of the Children's Movement of Florida encountered when they traveled to Tallahassee armed with the results from a series of highly successful grassroots rallies around the state last fall. Children's Movement leaders drove a big, blue bus to "Milk & Cookies Rallies" in 17 communities including one at Fort Pierce Central High School that attracted an audience of nearly 1,000.

There's no doubting the passion of the people at those rallies; what proved to be much tougher was how to translate that excitement for change in terms our legislators could understand. The results from this spring's legislative session are less than inspiring if you care anything about kids.

On Monday, the leaders of the Children's Movement paid a return visit to the Treasure Coast to conduct a "listening session" that could set the direction of the movement as it goes forward.

The movement's key issues are clear: improving child health (Florida ranks 49th in uninsured children); high-quality pre-kindergarten education programs (children acquire 90 percent of their brain development before age 5); more parent skill-building programs; more mentoring programs (a mentored child is 46 percent less likely to use drugs).

Yet the question now becomes how to make sure politicians embrace those demands.

The ideas we heard Monday were wide-ranging and inspiring.

"You need to, perhaps, inject a little fear into legislators," the movement's political adviser Sergio Bendixen suggested. It was an idea that seemed to pique the interest of even the meekest among us.

We heard that the movement must mobilize the community (it's already enthusiastic about the overall message) by explaining how important children and their well-being are.

St. Lucie School Superintendent Michael Lannon suggested injecting a healthy dose of patriotism into the mix.

He noted how the Russian Sputnik successes of the late 1950s galvanized U.S. politicians and people alike to embark on the Space Race. Not only did we get to the moon first, it also translated into massive gains in math, engineering and science education in this country. The same could be done with children's issues, Lannon said. America will not continue to be the biggest and the best in the world, he warned, unless we make major changes to the way we fund education and how we value teachers.

Someone suggested harnessing what they called "mommy power." Get mothers riled up about what's not being done for their children and you might just have a game-changing and fear-inducing force.

Aha.

The thought of roomfuls of angry mothers just might be intimidating enough to change politicians' minds and, more importantly, their votes.

I was reminded of the bravery of a couple of mothers in Northern Ireland in the 1970s. Sick and tired of the hatred and killing between militant Protestant and Catholic groups that had been tearing apart the nation for decades, Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan decided to take to the streets to force a change.

They mobilized other mothers to join them, saying "Enough is enough. How many of our children have to die before we fix this mess?"

Eventually, the politicians listened and the violence began to subside. Williams and Corrigan were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1976.

There was one state legislator sitting in the audience Monday.

Even if Rep. Gayle Harrell, R-Stuart, was delayed joining the meeting, she surely must have picked up on the frustration audience members expressed.

Yet Harrell repeated the same old bromides: Of course she cared deeply about the well-being of children, and so do her peers in the Legislature. Reach out to local legislators to make sure they really know the issues, she advised, but don't forget that every legislator has plenty of other constituencies besides your own.

Sad to say, it sounded an awful lot like "Blah, blah, blah."

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