Last week I met with two different freshman high school classes on behalf of the YWCA’s R.A.C.E. Committee’s Adopt-A-School program. Once a week a representative from the program presents to these same two classes, made up of class leadership and at-risk students, on different topics. My topic was Community Involvement, with a touch of civic responsibility thrown in (our time is so limited). After explaining the objectives and discussing definitions, the students brainstormed in small groups about community activities they would like to be involved in. Some were specific, like having a dog wash to raise money for Helping Hands Humane Shelter. Some were a little more general, such as cleaning up the environment. After their lists were complete they then evaluated their lists within those same groups, and selected the top four that were most important to them. Each group selected a reporter to share the team’s final list. The ideas included a clean-up at the park with the trash bags being weighed; a canned food drive for Project Topeka; a clothing drive. Prizes would be given to the team that collected the most trash or brought in the most cans or clothing items. We talked about prizes that were easily available to them as students to give away: picking the selections for the monthly Book & a Movie Program in their school library, getting to help the deejay make up the playlist for a school dance, a prominent place in the school homecoming parade, a brief congratulatory event at the homecoming game. The ideas were flowing and it was fun. But there were a couple of things that kept sticking in my head after I heard it. When one student stood up to deliver her team’s list, the language was different. She said, “We want to clothe hobos and give toys to orphans.” I was struck, and quietly repeated, mostly to myself, “Hobos and orphans.” Really, I was dumbfounded! I hadn’t heard these words in so long, and when I did, the context was different. “Hobo” was a Halloween costume w/ raggedy clothing,  a bundled bandanna at the end of a stick, a weathered hat and a stubby cigar. “Orphan” was a reference to  Little Orphan Annie, or the Orphan Trains of the late 19th century that transported orphaned, homeless or abandoned children from the crowded coastal cities to the Midwest for adoption. “Orphan” was children in developing countries, like Haiti, parts of the former USSR, war- and poverty-torn countries, etc. Hobos and orphans are not here in the United States, certainly not in Topeka or Shawnee County. I feel these terms are antiquated, and perhaps the use of these words used that day by teenagers was proof of a sense of removal, a disconnect from the realities of homelessness and abandonment, and the needs of our poor families. What do you think?

Just wanted to add my experience: I have no doubt that we have to sacrifice some freedoms for our security, but I have some concerns that this is the way to do it. The concern is that without these types of pat downs, an “underwear bomber,” could get past security. I’ve read nothing that claims these pat downs would accomplish that. If I’m wrong, please send me your source. My last time at the airport was about one month ago when my brother and I flew one way to Dallas, departing from Kansas City International (MCI), to drive my mom back to Topeka. At MCI I was directed into a full body scanner. Never at any time was I given an option to opt out, nor did I see any literature stating I could. After being scanned I was directed to an area nearby, no privacy, and a female TSA agent then said she was going to give me a pat down, and proceeded to tell me how she was going to do it, even saying at one point that I would have to remove my jacket. I started removing it, and she said, “Not now.” Okay. She said she would pat me to above the top of my bra, then below the bra-line and down, down my zipper (I still had the jacket on). She started, then stopped, said I could go to the next station. You might think she was waiting for radio clearance from the body-scanning image, but that clearance had already come through before she started. I heard it loud and clear, and I heard her confirm it. I asked if she was going to finish, and she said she didn’t know. I asked if she still needed me to remove my jacket. She said no. I asked why I was even stopped for the pat down. She couldn’t answer my question. Now mind you, I wasn’t asking her these questions in a challenging manner, I was just thoroughly confused. I went to the next station, and had my hands wiped, after a short period of time during which the attendee was asking her supervisor if she needed to change her rubber gloves. The response: “It’s recommended, but you don’t have to. Don’t worry about it.” I went on through, but was watching the whole time. There was no rhyme or reason to what was happening. Not only were the flyers confused, but so were the TSA employees. I hope this improves before the next time I fly.