“To Poke, or not to Poke….and Pokemon”

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            Summer ended, and we recently returned to school and the YMCA for before and after-care.  Evan clearly enjoys being back in his routine, but every once in a while, he just cannot help himself.

            Last week, I picked the boys up at the YMCA. It was “come clean” time: Evan has to show me his behavior report from school.  Most days, Evan gets a happy face.  Everything rides on this moment.  We usually end up at Applebees for kids’ night on Wednesday, and we go to McD’s on one other night.  But if Evan gets a sad or a straight face, we definitely go home. 

            (A few weeks ago, Evan lied to me and told me he got a happy face. He had been getting happy faces all week, so I didn’t stop to check, and it was McD’s night, so off we went.  Later, I discovered a sad face in his folder.   I told Evan he would have to bring home a happy face every day for a week to earn his ‘eating out’ privileges back for the following week. It just about killed him. )

            So, on this particular night, Evan approached me, shoulders slumped.  His face was pulled down in an exaggerated frown.  He gestured “sad face” and sighed, shaking his head, expelling a gust of disappointed breath. 

            “What happened?”  I signed, trying not to laugh because he looked so comical, but this was serious business. 

            Evan signed: "Stick – I picked it up – I poke –poke – poke - poked another student with it." (As he gestured, a look of glee momentarily crossed his face. “I know it’s wrong, Mommy, but I just – couldn't – help – it!! Arggghhhhhh!!!) 

            Suddenly a wave of sympathy came over me.  There was no place that Evan could actually just be himself anymore.  There are boys (and girls) who see a stick and desperately want to poke other people – just because it might be fun, just to see what would  happen.  There are others who see a stick, and leave it on the ground, ‘because you’re not supposed to do those things.’  Ben and I are leave-the-stick-on-the-ground kind of people.   Evan is definitely of the first ilk. 

            I should have been cross with Evan.  I should have put on my best scolding face and told him how wrong he was.  Truth be known, in that moment of insight about my youngest son, I was a little jealous.  The world is split into Poke-ers and Poke-ees, and Evan seemed to be on the better side of that equation.   I did finally muster a parental facade and told Evan, “You mustn't poke other children with sticks."

             Evan walked slowly to the car, bottom lip dragging, shoulders dramatically slumped.  He accepted his fate of eating at home.   It was the price of letting the Evanator out. 

            As we drove home, I spent time pondering the readings I did in college from Locke and Hobbes – two political philosophers who wrote about man in his ‘natural state.’  Without rules, (Hobbes) is man a wild thing, destined to bring on the destruction of self and society?  Or, (Locke) given the right information, will he make good decisions and act in the best interest of all? 

Will he poke, or put the stick down?

            The Evanator can abide by Mr. Locke on most days, but about once a week, he stands as proof of Mr. Hobbes philosophy.  Or, maybe – given the incentive of a meal out, is the Evanator living proof that Hobbes was right, and self-interest rules the day? I decided to leave that for further analysis on another day...

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The Power of Pokemon

            I never did understand the whole Pokemon craze.  For those of you that are not parents, the Pokemon virus infects your kids from about age 8 to perhaps 13.  (And maybe beyond?)

             There are cards with characters with a variety of multi-syllabic fictitious monikers that resemble Asian sounding names.  Rest assured, your child (even the ones that struggle with reading simple sight words or pronouncing the /th/ sound) will know, and be able to read and pronounce, all of these names. You will think your child has learned a second language.   

            Each character comes on a card with points and powers listed.  Pokemon is Kiddie-Crack.  Schools have banned them altogether. Trading leads to wars where suddenly one child wants his ‘Avalugg’ back, or claims someone stole his ‘Tyrantrum’. 

            The YMCA only allows kids to bring them on Friday, yet children still sneak them in their pockets and hover on the side of gymnasium, making clandestine trades trying to avoid the eyes of the counselors. 

            When Ben first got bit by the bug, I was aggravated. 

            “Ben, you can tell me all about your dinosaurs, but I don’t want to hear about Pokemon.  Dinosaur knowledge is real.  I don’t have room in my brain for endless facts about make-believe entities that live on trading cards.”

            This seemed like a good policy. Then, Evan got bit by the Pokemon virus, and I finally understand what the big deal is.  

            Many times, I stood by and watched as Evan was left on the social periphery.  I have watched other ‘normal’ children at the playground back away from my son with his strange noises and inability to hear or respond in conversation.  My heart has broken for him too many times to count as I watched Ben easily make new friends, and Evan end up on his own.   Times like this, I become Evan’s playmate, and he pretends he doesn't care – but I know he does.

            Now, Evan has Pokemon.  This is a language – spoken or not – that other kids understand.  When Evan shows someone else his cards, they are interested and willing to look past Evan’s inability to express himself in spoken word.   He understands the point system and can actively trade cards.   Ben and Evan bond over Pokemon at home, too.  They compare cards and look them up in the Pokemon Essential Handbook.  Ben is able to be Evan’s teacher in this, and really feel like the ‘big brother.’ 

            The Pokemon phenomenon is all about fitting in and competing.  It’s a whole social system among kids where their own differences and shortcomings fade into the background, and there is a social hierarchy and economy built on the features of the characters on the cards.  From a marketing standpoint, it’s pure genius.  As a parent of a child who doesn't have an easy time communicating and fitting in, I find myself grateful for Pokemon these days. 

            In a related development, Evan announced to me on Friday that he is in love.

 Evan signed “Girl – at school – my girlfriend – LOVE” and he fluttered his eyelashes and held his hands in a heart shape over his chest.

“Wow,” I signed.  “At school or the Y?”

“School.”

“What color is her hair?” I signed.

“Yellow.” 

“Is she in your class? Where does she sit?”

Evan counted on his fingers...Five seats away from me.

Then, he signed “LOVE” again.    

Here we go, I thought.  Evan has always been very popular with the girls.  This was the first one that he had expressed an interest in.  I wondered why…

As if reading my mind, Evan signed:

 She gave me a Pokemon card.  One-hundred-thirty points!

It seems like she played her cards right. J