The effort to ensure that children are both healthy and happy has reached a fever-pitch, amazing those of us who grew up in a simpler, more dismal time.
The school officials in the ’60s and ’70s wanted children to be obedient little robots; parents were split.
I don’t remember my parents being worried about me being happy. They expected all of their children to be scholars who would ultimately pay their own way through the state university.
If anyone had brought up the need for children to be happy, the response would have been loud and incredulous:
“Happy!? What do you need to be happy for? Are you a movie-star or something? Nobody was happy in my day, and we got along just fine!”
Wiser heads and hippie sensibilities now prevail, and the kiddywinks tripse to school in a kind of marshmallow glee, whilst the oldsters seek out a bit of joy more or less cautiously, lest it be ripped away by unseen forces, or perhaps an announcement in the medical press that surveys now show that happiness is actually detrimental to one’s health.