Nouvembre
08-11-2006, 03:58
http://youtube.com/watch?v=kssS_TEeQfU
For those of you with dial-up:
Envision an end to the hypocrisy of federal marijuana policy in the US—with the persecution of potheads on one extreme, and full endorsement of prescription drug users on the other. Imagine a place and time in which marijuana is no more noteworthy than chamomile, ginseng, or echinacea, where a public education campaign that rejects fear-based rhetoric starts early: like, in grade school.
Brooklyn artist Ricardo Cortés has created a children’s picture book to introduce the fabled herb in an objective and unthreatening light. It’s Just A Plant, proclaims the title, while the cover depicts a tiny, innocuous seedling dwarfed by surrounding palms and agapanthi.
To be clear, the point is not to encourage consumption of the plant by the book’s target audience: ages 6-12. Recent findings by Israeli scientists on the benefits of cannibinoids in pediatric medicine notwithstanding, Cortés’ message is very clear: It’s too strong a medicine for children, and is a decision for an adult to make, “like driving a car or drinking a glass of wine.”
Jackie, the 8-year-old protagonist of IJAP, hears this from smart Doctor Eden. The doctor’s office is the second stop Jackie and her mother make on an investigative odyssey prompted by Jackie’s discovery of her parents lighting up their funny-smelling cigarettes one night.
Jackie’s first stop is Farmer Bob’s, where, somewhere between the corn, avocados, strawberries, mint, and limes, a few marijuana plants squat. Farmer Bob doesn’t smoke, but tells Jackie all the kinds of folks who do: artists and doctors, teachers and scientists—even presidents.
Even police officers might toke up, is the sense you get from the particularly patient and rational cop whom Jackie encounters near the end of her travels. You might also get this sense from the book’s acknowledgements, which include a nod to “mates at the NYPD (you know who you are!).” The officer makes it clear, though, that it is illegal, and that it’s the job of the police to enforce the law, regardless of what they might personally feel.
Without losing her composure, Jackie’s mother acknowledges the herb’s illegal status and voices her disagreement with the law. Granted, Jackie does not go where many children surely would have gone at 8, which is to screech, “You and daddy are doing something illegal!”, the response to which would have provided helpful modeling for interested parents considering sharing the book with their offspring.
All in all, though, the book is a great tool. Given that statistics show that kids whose parents talk to them about drugs are 50% less likely to experiment, while on the other hand, Partnership for a Drug-Free America’s reports show that the number of parents who do not discuss drugs with their kids is growing, it’s clear that tools are needed.
As Marsha Rosenbaum, PhD, director of the Safety First project and the San Francisco office of the Drug Policy Alliance writes in IJAP’s epilogue,
“In America today, where as a society we regularly imbibe and medicate with a variety of legal and illegal substances, the door to drug use is already wide open. To deny the reality of the role of drug use in our culture, to cling to worn-out doomsday messages, and deny our kids help and support when they need it, is to expose them to risk and danger far beyond marijuana use.”
Beyond the whole message about the good herb, there are other positive things going on in the vivid pages of IJAP. Jackie’s ambiguously multiracial family is healthy and loving; both the doctor and the police officer are strong women of color role models; and the folks depicted within the legalization movement span almost every form of outward diversity—including age, class (as denoted by suits vs. jeans), and skin color.
Thought that was interesting. I'm all for the idea...Too much of what I learn in school is fear-based.
For those of you with dial-up:
Envision an end to the hypocrisy of federal marijuana policy in the US—with the persecution of potheads on one extreme, and full endorsement of prescription drug users on the other. Imagine a place and time in which marijuana is no more noteworthy than chamomile, ginseng, or echinacea, where a public education campaign that rejects fear-based rhetoric starts early: like, in grade school.
Brooklyn artist Ricardo Cortés has created a children’s picture book to introduce the fabled herb in an objective and unthreatening light. It’s Just A Plant, proclaims the title, while the cover depicts a tiny, innocuous seedling dwarfed by surrounding palms and agapanthi.
To be clear, the point is not to encourage consumption of the plant by the book’s target audience: ages 6-12. Recent findings by Israeli scientists on the benefits of cannibinoids in pediatric medicine notwithstanding, Cortés’ message is very clear: It’s too strong a medicine for children, and is a decision for an adult to make, “like driving a car or drinking a glass of wine.”
Jackie, the 8-year-old protagonist of IJAP, hears this from smart Doctor Eden. The doctor’s office is the second stop Jackie and her mother make on an investigative odyssey prompted by Jackie’s discovery of her parents lighting up their funny-smelling cigarettes one night.
Jackie’s first stop is Farmer Bob’s, where, somewhere between the corn, avocados, strawberries, mint, and limes, a few marijuana plants squat. Farmer Bob doesn’t smoke, but tells Jackie all the kinds of folks who do: artists and doctors, teachers and scientists—even presidents.
Even police officers might toke up, is the sense you get from the particularly patient and rational cop whom Jackie encounters near the end of her travels. You might also get this sense from the book’s acknowledgements, which include a nod to “mates at the NYPD (you know who you are!).” The officer makes it clear, though, that it is illegal, and that it’s the job of the police to enforce the law, regardless of what they might personally feel.
Without losing her composure, Jackie’s mother acknowledges the herb’s illegal status and voices her disagreement with the law. Granted, Jackie does not go where many children surely would have gone at 8, which is to screech, “You and daddy are doing something illegal!”, the response to which would have provided helpful modeling for interested parents considering sharing the book with their offspring.
All in all, though, the book is a great tool. Given that statistics show that kids whose parents talk to them about drugs are 50% less likely to experiment, while on the other hand, Partnership for a Drug-Free America’s reports show that the number of parents who do not discuss drugs with their kids is growing, it’s clear that tools are needed.
As Marsha Rosenbaum, PhD, director of the Safety First project and the San Francisco office of the Drug Policy Alliance writes in IJAP’s epilogue,
“In America today, where as a society we regularly imbibe and medicate with a variety of legal and illegal substances, the door to drug use is already wide open. To deny the reality of the role of drug use in our culture, to cling to worn-out doomsday messages, and deny our kids help and support when they need it, is to expose them to risk and danger far beyond marijuana use.”
Beyond the whole message about the good herb, there are other positive things going on in the vivid pages of IJAP. Jackie’s ambiguously multiracial family is healthy and loving; both the doctor and the police officer are strong women of color role models; and the folks depicted within the legalization movement span almost every form of outward diversity—including age, class (as denoted by suits vs. jeans), and skin color.
Thought that was interesting. I'm all for the idea...Too much of what I learn in school is fear-based.