Jury duty, kid edition

The boys were very interested in hearing all about my jury duty experience. Because we have lawyers in the family, they are already familiar with the basics of our justice system: the lawyers help each person tell their side of the story and the judge decides what is fair. We hadn't talked about juries before, so I said in some cases, when there is something very important that needs to be decided, they want to make sure it's not just one person doing the deciding, so they make a whole team to decide, and that is the jury. They wanted to know what my case was about. The first time they asked this, I was still in the selection process, so I explained that I am not allowed to discuss the case with anyone while I am still involved. They wanted to know why not. I said partly for the privacy of the people who have the dispute, and partly to make sure I am only judging the case on the evidence, and am not influenced by other people. They accepted this.

Yesterday, I was free to talk about whatever I wanted because I had been released from service. The boys were still very curious what the dispute had been about, so I went ahead and told them. Fellow parents, are you prepared to explain sexual assault to your kids on short notice? We all should have that vocabulary, so I just took a deep breath and said, "Some people say that this guy got some children drunk in his house, and that he touched them in ways they did not want to be touched, and scared them and hurt them." Jordan said, "Touched them how?" Gah. But this is actually important to be able to talk about, so I took another breath and said you know how there are some parts of your body that should only be touched by you, and maybe your mom and dad if they are helping you take a bath and maybe your doctor if he is checking that everything is working right? The boys were clear on this and indicated the body parts in question. I said, "Some people say that this guy touched the kids in those places in a mean way, so that he hurt them and scared them." The boys seemed like they took this seriously but were not overwhelmed. I remembered to add, "That's what someone says. The question is, did he really do it, or did he not do it. And you can see how that is a very important question to decide." Jordan said, "How are they going to decide it?" I asked what he thought would be some good ways, and we had a little discussion about witnesses and testimony and evidence. I just left it at that, without any further specifics about this case; I don't know very much, anyway, and it seemed like this was plenty.

Jordan got a little concerned about the seriousness of the decisionmaking. He said maybe he would not want to be a lawyer, because what if someone was wrongly convicted, or wrongly set free, and it was your fault? I said that would be a good thing to discuss with his grandfather. I also said maybe next time we're in San Francisco Grandpa could show them around the courthouse there, and they loved that idea.

Meanwhile, one of our breaks was in an empty courtroom, and the bailiff (and other jurors) said it was fine if I took pictures to show my kids. You can see the witness stand, the jury box, the area for the clerk and the bailiff, and so on. I even got a fellow juror to take a picture of me in the judge's seat.

Jury duty

I had jury duty for the last two days. It was extremely interesting! This was the first time I've been called in Seattle, and the one time I was called in Maryland I was excused for hardship reasons because I had an infant at the time, so I didn't make it very far in to the selection process. This time, I made it all the way through the voir dire (where the attorneys and the judge ask questions about jurors' backgrounds and potential biases). I was not selected, and that fulfilled my two days of jury service, so I'm back to normal now. This is a relief, and definitely a relief to Dale, who had to cover more than usual during my commitment. But I would have been glad to serve, too. It looked like an interesting trial, and not too long.

The format for the voir dire was new to me, and I think relatively new in King County, judging by how the attorneys talked about it. They used to grill each juror individually, starting with juror #1, accepting or rejecting one person at a time until they had a complete jury. This was monumentally time-consuming, and pretty boring while you sat there waiting for your turn. Now, the attorneys ask questions of the entire room at once: we hold up big cards with our juror numbers on them to answer, and attorneys follow up with a few people for each question, delving more deeply with a few, or inviting #22 to respond to what #13 just said, or asking who agrees with juror #9. It felt almost like a community discussion of the issues pertinent to the trial. The judge and attorneys expressed repeatedly how much they prefer this system. It's more interactive, they learn more, it's more interesting for everyone, and they the quality of  the information they get is higher. Some jurors are excused during this discussion if it becomes evident to the court that they would not be able judge the case based on the evidence, perhaps because they know someone involved or have an overwhelming personal stake in the issues of the case. At the end of the discussion, the attorneys pass a clipboard back and forth, accepting and rejecting jurors one at a time. I think there is still a priority based on numerical order, because I noticed them focusing their questions on jurors #1-30, and only jurors with numbers in that range were eventually selected. I was juror #45, so although I contributed to the whole-group discussion (and I distinguished myself on one particular point), I think I was never in the running.

The charges in this case were charges that most people have strong feelings about: the defendant was accused of getting a group of kids drunk in his house and sexually assaulting them (molestation and/or rape). There were four different kids, ages 12-13 at the time. The alleged incident was four years ago and the kids were only coming out with the accusations now. The voir dire questions from the prosecution got pretty serious pretty fast, along these lines:

Have you ever had a close friend or family member report to you that they were sexually assaulted?
When did the person report the assault to you - soon after the incident, or much later?
Why do you think some people might not report such an incident immediately?
Why do you think a child, especially, might not report being sexually molested?
What difference do you think it makes if a boy is molested, versus a girl?
What evidence would you expect the state to present in cases of alleged sexual molestation?
What would constitute evidence of sexual molestation, if there were no forensic evidence (because it was a long time ago) and no witnesses?
How would you know when to trust the testimony of a child reporting abuse?

These are not easy questions! And I thought it was an excellent discussion. People were overall very sensible and thoughtful with their answers, sometimes personal, sometimes more philosophical. I thought the prosecuting attorney did a great job of listening to people's answers and selecting out the issues that he knew would be important for this trial. I was reminded of very good physics teaching, in which the teacher draws out students' (halfway decent!) ideas about a physics phenomenon and guides the class to build on the features that she knows will get them somewhere. By the end of it, I felt that I understood where the prosecution's case was headed, and what the issues would be, and how I personally would try to take them on.

The defense attorney appeared to me to be less skilled at voir dire. She was trying to get rid of people who were so freaked out by or personally involved in the charges that they couldn't judge the case fairly. But since many people are strongly biased against accused sex offenders, she had to figure out something more like who had firmly prejudged the case, and that's something people wouldn't admit to. Her questions sometimes didn't make sense to me, or felt weirdly leading, so that I felt she was trying to get me somewhere I didn't really want to go or didn't understand. It seemed to me that even when she made a good point, the jurors resisted her; they argued with her over her characterization of their answer, or told her they thought her question was inappropriate. At the end of it, I didn't feel that I had gotten a preview of what the defense's argument was going to be, the way I did with the prosecution. Now, you never know with lawyers; maybe her tone was strategic. Or maybe she just had the tough side of the argument (who wants to side with an accused sex offender?), or was having trouble pulling us out of the victim-sympathizing mood that the prosecution had successfully pulled us into (which, let it be noted, presumes that there is a victim). But I didn't think she was as good.

All that said, the defense's voir dire raised one issue that blew me away. At one point, she asked the following question:

Right now, when you have heard the charges but seen no evidence, who do you consider to be a little bit ahead - the prosecution, or the defense? Or is it an even race right now?

A large number of jurors put up their cards to say that the prosecution was ahead. Another large number put up cards to say that so far, the two sides were even. When she asked for people who think the defense is ahead so far, only two cards went up: me, and one other juror. EXCUSE ME? I was stunned. To me, this is a question with a right answer, a legal answer, an answer that is one of the foundations of our criminal justice system, for pete's sake. The attorney called on me to explain my reasoning, and I said, "I believe it is my job as a juror to presume the defendant is innocent until the state proves beyond a reasonable doubt that he is guilty. Right now, he is innocent. The defense always starts out ahead." The one other card-raiser said his reasons were the same. This caused a little shiver of side talk among the jurors -- oh, right! Innocent until proven guilty! The judge had (of COURSE!) explained this when she read the charges; she had gone on quite some time about it, in what I thought was a very helpful and informative way, including the different evidentiary standards in civil and criminal cases (preponderance of evidence vs. beyond a reasonable doubt). So it's not like people just hadn't watched enough CSI to know how the justice system works (as if that would help). They just really were not taking that principle into account.

When the judge followed up with some people to see whether hearing my answer affected their thinking at all, some of them said, "Well, that's what I meant by the race being even so far. In criminal cases, 'even' means the defense is ahead." That didn't seem like a very good answer to me, but whatever. Other people, however, explained in quite a committed way that no, they did not currently presume the defendant to be innocent, because ... drum roll please ... if he's gotten all the way to this courtroom, he must have done something. Whoever brought him here (law enforcement, or whatever other agency) must have had enough evidence to merit his being forced to show up in this room at this time, needing a lawyer and all. So he's probably guilty. "The prosecution is ahead," they said, firmly.

My dad (a longtime criminal defense attorney) was not at all surprised by this; I guess it's pretty common. He wasn't nearly as appalled as I was, either. He says at that point people are under oath to tell the truth, not under oath to be fair or legally correct, so there is no right answer, only a true answer about your own convictions. Now that I'm a little calmer, I think the whole experience is a good reminder for me of how radical, counterintuitive, and profoundly important the principle of innocent-until-proven-guilty really is.

Making sounds

When I picked Jordan up from school today, he snuck up behind me and honked, using a fun little reed instrument he made out of a drinking straw. It was for a science lesson. You cut the end of the straw into a point, flatten it by biting it a little, and blow into it with a little buzz in your blow, the way you do for a kazoo but less vocally. It makes a great sound! Jordan loved it. He had two different straws of slightly different diameter, and by fitting one into the other, he had made a thing like a slide whistle or trombone, where you slide the pitch by making the instrument physically longer and shorter. He played it all the way home. Between tunes, he chatted me up about sound and vibrations.

Jordan: Mommy I learned that sound is waves. It's the vibration.
Me: Can you explain to me how this thing works?
Jordan: The air makes the straw vibrate and that makes the sound.
Me: Huh. I have not thought about this before and you are really making me think. Does the air make the straw vibrate, or does the straw make the air vibrate?
Jordan: The air makes the straw vibrate. Because you have to blow. And you have to blow in a certain way to make the straw go buzz, and that is the sound.
Me: Wow. I think that is totally right. You even have to blow in a certain way, a kind of a buzzy blow, or it won't work. So it's sort of like, you make the air go buzz, and the air makes the straw go buzz?
Jordan: That's what I think. I'm just guessing about this right now.
Me: That's okay, that's called figuring it out. We use what we know to figure out new things. I'm figuring it out too. What I don't understand yet is how the sound gets to my ears. Because I think the sound has to get to my ears for me to hear it.
Jordan: I think the sound is the waves, and the sound cuts through the air to get to your ear faster. The sound is the waves, and the air is like the sand on the beach. Have you seen how the waves at the beach can kind of cut through the sand? Like that.
Me: Far out. That's different than how I think of it. I think the sound is the air that is vibrating.
Jordan: I never thought of it that way. That's a new idea to me.

Since we were on our way to Jordan's choir practice, I asked:

Me: Do you think this has anything to do with singing?
Jordan: No. I think it is completely different.
Me: How do you think singing works?
Jordan: I think the air goes over that little thing that hangs down in the back of your mouth and vibrates it and that makes the sound.
Me: That's called the uvula. I have no idea what that thing is for. But the way you are describing it, it sounds a lot like what you said happens with the straw.
Jordan: Uvula?!?! [He thought the sound of the word was hilarious and practiced saying it over and over.]
Me: Yeah. I don't know what it's for. I think that singing sounds come from a thing that is farther down your throat called the larynx.
Jordan: Is that the voice box?
Me: Right, that.
Jordan: I think that has little strings in it and those vibrate to make the sound. And there has to be the air to make it vibrate because you breathe when you sing.

As we arrived at choir, I said maybe his choir director would know about how sound is made for singing, and he decided he wanted to talk about it at the break and maybe show how his instrument works.

I have since learned that the uvula does play a bit of a role in the articulation of some sounds, but mostly just glottal stops, not notes. I wonder Jordan got his idea about the uvula from cartoon images of people yelling. The "strings" in the larynx may have been a reference to the "vocal cords," which apparently are not so much cords as folds in the tissue. Which makes the larynx more like a reed instrument, right?

I'm going away! Now follow me!

A child-development book I like says, "The eight-year-old child is an exuberant, outgoing bundle of energy; he meets every challenge head-on, willing to try almost anything. Sometimes parents are amazed at the enthusiasm and excitement with which their child greets the world." I certainly am. Jordan is highly competent and he knows it. He can tidy up a room, learn a piano piece, charm a toddler, walk himself to school, make friends with a dog and its owner, and save up for a big purchase. He can navigate a shopping cart through a crowded grocery store with excellent etiquette. He can suggest strategies for me to deal with a challenge at work (and they're good ideas, too). He runs out ahead of us on the street so that he can lead the way.

At the same time, he is very connected to all of us, especially Aaron; so any new thing he does, he wants Aaron to do it too, or at least be right there to appreciate how well he does it. This leads to a funny dynamic in which Jordan first declares that he will now be doing this new activity By Himself, not the old thing he used to do with Aaron; but very shortly he is inviting Aaron to do it with him. I think this is both because he wants Aaron to admire what he's doing, and also because he genuinely loves Aaron's company.

For example, a few weeks ago I decided that Jordan should try out taking a shower. He and Aaron had always taken baths together, and I was usually there for the washing, but Jordan is getting to be such a big kid that I suddenly looked at him and thought, "Time for this kid to be washing himself," and introduced the shower concept. He loved it. He was thrilled. He declared he was taking showers from now on, maybe every day. He consistently opted out of baths with Aaron. I briefly mourned the passing of the little-kid bathtime scene (which was getting a little crowded, anyway). And then tonight, Jordan extolled the virtues of the shower to Aaron: "You should try it! You can try it right now with me! It feels so great!" And Aaron tried it, and loved it, and they bonded over how much they both enjoy showers now.

New skills

Jordan has a new skill: He can cook himself a scrambled egg with cheese!

He can do the whole process independently: remember what ingredients he needs, locate the proper utensils, crack and beat the egg, grate the cheese, pour the oil, etc. The first time he did it, I guided him in each step, and didn't touch anything. Now I just keep one eye on things while I go about my own business (but I still stay in the kitchen). The trickiest part is cracking the egg: he tends to squeeze it, so that it kind of explodes into the bowl and on his hands. I'm trying to teach him how to do the thing we experienced egg-crackers do without thinking, which is to kind of open the egg along the crack. (Did you know you did that?) I assume experience will be the best teacher of this particular detail. The other exciting part was turning on the stove, which he had never done before. He is quite safety-conscious, listened carefully to my little lecture about natural gas, and has not yet made an unsafe mistake. There is so much to learn - how much oil to use, why you should turn the pan handles in. Jordan finds it all thrilling.

Aaron, meanwhile, is becoming a real reader. He can read "early reader" type books independently, and has a colorful and engaged reading voice.

Here he is in action:

He is a great writer, too. Here is a card he made for his kindergarten teacher, who has been sick for months and will not be back for some time. It says, "I hope you get better soon. To Ms. Mrphy. Aaron." 

For me the most touching thing is how sick she looks, there in her bed, thinking about her classroom.

Pianist

Jordan has been taking piano lessons for about six months now and is learning a ton. He loves to play, and is especially enamored of chords. "Chords are very empowering," agrees his cheerful and unflappable piano teacher, as Jordan bangs away at top volume on the grand piano in her living room. She held a recital for all her students last weekend, and Jordan played the following piece. The intro and out-tro are his own composition, which he improvised one day and remembers. The piece in the middle is a piece she assigned him called "I've Got Music," by Bastien.

Where does the soul go?

I got into another one of these theological conversations with the boys... I admit, I enjoy them. At dinner on Thursday, Jordan was talking about what he sang in choir that day, and Aaron hadn't heard the story of Away in a Manger so we had to tell it to him. He thought it was hilarious: asleep in the hay! Ha! However, I felt a little incomplete telling these stories without also explaining the significance that they have for people, so this time I said how the baby Jesus is so special to Christian people, that part of the story is that even the stars in the sky were happy to see him be born. Aaron was very touched by that. Then I went on to try and explain why Jesus is special to Christian people, and man, I was out of my depth. I felt like I needed to keep it simple (these are five- and eight-year-old Jews, after all) and I was thinking on my feet, so I thought I'd just say that the Christian story is that Jesus helps you get into heaven and not go to hell. But my kids don't know what heaven and hell are. So I started by asking:

Me: What do you think happens when people die?
Aaron: We say goodbye to them.
Jordan: I think their soul goes out.
Rachel: I agree, we say goodbye to them. What do you mean, their soul goes out?
Jordan: At the moment people die I think their soul goes out of them. [He made a wiggly motion away from his chest.]
Rachel: Does it go somewhere?
Jordan: I don't know.
Rachel: I don't know either.
Jordan: I think maybe it goes to us, so that we remember them. I think maybe that is how we remember them.
Rachel: Wow. I think that is pretty great. I don't know what happens after people die, but I like your idea a lot.

And then I launched into this other part:

Rachel: Another story about what happens when people die is that there is a wonderful place called heaven, and your soul goes there when you die. I don't believe this story myself, but it is a story that is special to Christian people. One story is that heaven is up in the clouds.
Jordan: I don't think your soul goes up in the clouds.
Aaron: I don't think anyone goes up in the clouds unless there is a rocket ship. And then you go to space.
Jordan: And your soul wouldn't go in a rocket ship.
Rachel: I don't believe this story either, but some people like this story. Another part of this story is that your soul only goes to heaven if you are good and you do good things. If you do bad things, you go to another place called hell.
Aaron: If you do bad things you go there?
Rachel: That's the story.
Aaron: What is it like there?
Rachel: Supposedly it's full of fire and monsters and devils.

I was trying to be casual, but I think Aaron's imagination took him somewhere awful very fast, because his eyes got big and he started to tremble and blink back tears. I instantly regretted the whole conversation - now my poor baby is worried about going to hell!? Scrambling to get out of it, I said,

Rachel: Aaron Aaron I forgot to tell you that there is an important rule about who can never go to hell. Do you want to hear it?
Aaron [little voice shaking]: Yes?
Rachel: Children. Children can never go to hell.
Aaron: They can't?
Rachel: Right. Because children are not bad. Children are learning.
[There was a collective puff of relief. Both Aaron and Jordan looked very grateful to be hearing this piece of news and got out of their chairs.]
Rachel: Like if a little kid broke something, they didn't do it on purpose, they are just learning.
Jordan [standing up to explain]: Kids make mistakes. Kids don't mean to hurt anyone.
Aaron [waving his arms]: Like if a kid broke his brother's toy he didn't mean to do it, it just broke.

I even think this is true, isn't it? Innocent youths? I guess it depends on your convictions. Well, I hereby refuse to educate my kids about any religion that threatens to send little kids to hell. And it was time to change the subject.

Rachel: Right. Now heaven, on the other hand, the story is that heaven is this wonderful place where everything is good.
Jordan: Is everything made of candy?
Rachel: Actually they say the streets are made of gold.
Jordan: Wow!
Aaron: And what else?
Rachel: All your friends will be there, and all the people you love.
Aaron [dancing around the kitchen]: Emanuel will be there, and Finn, and Sean and Henry! [All of whom are alive and well, and of a variety of religious persuasions. Never mind.]

There followed a very excited and imaginative babbling about what heaven would be like. Both kids got so into it they pushed the dinner dishes out of the way and started drawing heaven. Aaron drew himself sitting on a cloud and wanted to know how to spell "Whee!" because it would be so fun.

Jordan drew this fascinating image:



Those are the streets of gold, and green fields, and "a giant portable box of candy." A friend pointed out that it is a crossroads, as well, which struck her as auspicious.

The conversation was really out of my hands by now, but I tried to cram through to my point, which was that the baby Jesus grew up into the man Jesus, who had a lot of very good ideas and instructions for how to live a good life, and that the Christian story that if you live the way that Jesus said, you would go to heaven. And that Christmas is Jesus's birthday, so songs like Away in the Manger are for saying that when Jesus was born it was very special. Amen.