Okay, let me start by saying I didn’t entirely hate this book.
The author puts forward some good points that I completely agree with, particularly where the educational system is concerned. She talks about how there is too much emphasis on standardised testing; how there are too many children to a class, meaning that teachers can’t meet individual children’s needs; how physical education has become too “academicised”, with teachers focussing more on technique than overall fitness and enjoyment of sports, which in turn leads to children becoming disillusioned with PE and then avoiding it.
She also makes some good points about how outside play is limited for children these days, due to excessive anxiety (from parents and children alike) about the dangers of the outside world, and how children’s mental health can be affected by negative stories on the news.
It was also refreshing to see someone who believes that the use of text language won’t negatively impact a child’s general ability to read and write.
But – and this is a big but – I felt that her good points were lost amongst the barely concealed classism, her lack of respect for people with disabilities and her general ignorance about technology and media aimed at children. Her use of alarmist language was also, quite simply, alarming.
In the introduction alone, Palmer refers to autistic people as “sadly primitive” and goes on to refer to “normal children” who progress towards “civilised self-control.” Her attitude towards children with ADHD is greatly unsympathetic, and she outlines her concerns about children with developmental disorders going on to become criminals. Her issues with Ritalin being over-prescribed are – rather than being that doctors often prescribe drugs to children without considering their background or mental health – the fact that it’s expensive and that they may go on to become drug addicts in the future. She cites two rock stars as her evidence of this. Rock stars.
The language Palmer uses to describe the poor is often nothing short of derisive. She implies that “those at the bottom of the social heap” are mainly alcoholics and drug addicts to whom “sociable chitchat with a child is an unthinkable waste of time.” She downright dehumanises impoverished children, labelling them “feral” (although this treatment isn’t exclusive to the poor as, in other chapters, we see children described as “barbarians” and “miserable little creatures”) and more or less writes them off, despite the “mind the gap” sections’ apparent aim being to help.
I could go on at length about her ignorance of technology and media aimed at children, but I’m trying to remain at least vaguely objective, so I’ll just talk about the author’s bizarre idea that boys are “naturally drawn to technology” whilst girls “can be attracted to a computer by websites such as Barbie’s EverythingGirl site.” (And also the fact that she believes that Cardcaptors is aimed at boys because it appeals to the competitive instinct of the human male, and “little boys’ inbuilt desire for ‘power, force, mastery, domination, control…’” Yes, Cardcaptors. The magical girl anime that was initially aimed at young girls, but upon being brought over to the West was edited to appeal to young boys as well. But certainly not exclusively. Oh dear.)
The final issue I’d like to touch upon in this lengthy rant review is the author’s incredible ability to read minds. In the introduction, and later the final pages of the book, she skilfully deduces that a slightly grumpy-looking child on the steps of the Uffizi Gallery must want nothing more than to “curl up in front of a widescreen TV and lose herself in something mindless” despite her parents being gracious enough to “drag” (her words, not mine) her across Europe to see some of the Western civilisation’s greatest treasures. Apparently, her seeming disinterest makes it clear that she is a narcissistic brat. And the speculation as to how she became this way is pretty insulting when you consider that some children just… aren’t all that into art.
There are so many more things I could say about this book; however, in conclusion, this book raised some hugely important points, but was bogged down by all that pesky hyperbole and derision for… vast sections of our population. If you’re interested in reading a book that presents a slightly less alarmist and biased view of childhood, I’d recommend reading “The Story of Childhood: Growing Up in Modern Britain” by Libby Brooks.