Thanksgiving; Time with Family. No Thanks
 copyright © 2009 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org As Americans ponder the Thanksgiving Day holiday expectations are high. Young children look forward to all the activities loved ones plan. School age individuals are told tales of the Pilgrims and the Indians that befriended early settlers. Most imagine that on this November day, people come together peaceably. That, for the little ones is a welcome thought. Too often, tension exists in the parent child relationship. Some say angst increases as the offspring age. Whilst many wish to believe the strain occurs over time, as a child becomes more autonomous, indeed, recent research shows early interactions give rise to the relationship that will be. Toddlers and tots rarely have opportunities to quietly, calmly, and genuinely converse with parents or the caregivers they are fond of. Hence, lads and lasses feel a sense of loss. By the teen years, the thought of another Thanksgiving celebration with relatives evokes an almost automatic response, "No thanks." |
Thankfully, a second stolen in the car, a tender thought expressed while on the run, these are life's little riches. Yet, these treasures occur infrequently. Oh, how much Mike and Michelle yearn for a few hours of tête-à-tête with the Moms and Dads they love. Juanita and Jorge too hunger for a long and heartfelt talk, followed by a hug. Angelique and Akil desire discourse. A deep discussion with Mama and Papa would mean so much. Children crave a balance, parental involvement coupled with reciprocal reverence. A baby, a boy, a girl, or a blossoming adult wants a hand to hold gingerly rather than a hand that guide.
While mothers and fathers also hope to establish a strong relationship with their offspring and other relatives what occurs at home is often other than fulfilling. Time together on Thanksgiving Day does provide for a new normal. Superficial exchanges are as common during the commemoration as they are day to day. We dream of the good times and too frequently feel the holidays are not it. Nevertheless, individuals still hold on to hope. Let there be a reason to give thanks.
In some, Thanksgiving Day, and the entire celebratory season, elicits memories of fight or flight. Nonetheless, there is a thought that usually associated with appreciation; a turkey feast will likely be featured on the menu. Pumpkin pie will probably be served too. Oh my!
Thank goodness for food. With childhood memories intact, men and women who reflect on the delicious delicacies expect to feel fulfilled or full even if they feel forced to endure the company of family. Sights, smells and that ever-present sense of loss will stimulate emotional overeating. Elders promise themselves, just this once they will indulge. After all, Thanksgiving Day is special occasion. At least food is a fine distraction from feelings of loneliness or a lack of involvement. Indeed, as headlines howl, Isolated Americans try to connect . . . not with Mom, Pop, and siblings, with all the other more welcome traditions.
A time to party, to perform, to watch football, to prove to ourselves that we are [authentically] close to others, and to pretend. Thanks for the distractions.
Those that wish to act in the spirit of the national holiday can also take refuge. After all, the intent of the celebration is good. Community Service acts of kindness can be even better. A Christmas Gift Drive, Homeless Shelters and Soup Kitchens, helping the elderly, animals, and others in need can never be wrong. However, even when engaged in an honorable pursuit, so many say they feel alone in the crowd. The sensation can be as it is in a home full of holiday lore and little love. Grateful? For what?
Thanksgiving Day, and more so the day after, illustrate an American truth. "People are increasingly busy," said Margaret Gibbs, a psychologist at Fairleigh Dickinson University. "We've become a society where we expect things instantly, and don't spend the time it takes to have real intimacy with another person."
Author, and Clinical Psychologist, Madeline Levine reflects on what she sees in her practice. As recounted in a Washington Post article, the mother of three observes; over-involved parents who pressure their children to be stars -- in school, on athletic fields, among their peers -- have created a generation that is "extremely unhappy, disconnected and passive." Immodestly materialistic and indifferent to worldly affairs, young persons, from an early age on are both bored and "often boring," writes Psychologist Levine.
When the apathetic, acquisitive find themselves lost and without a cause, they do what is familiar. People shop until they drop.. Much to the delight of retailers, the parents and their children shop. Bye-bye forced family togetherness. Hello , buy, buy, buy. Thanks for the gifts.
Purveyors are happiest whence the Thanksgiving holiday arrives. During these November and December days, people rush to the stores with a greater sense of purpose. The Friday after the traditional Thursday celebration begins their best time of year. People purchase presents to give to one and all. It seems that love is in the air from late November until the New Year. In truth, even when individuals meet with family or friends in the winter, when they mix, and mingle in the spirit of gratitude, few feel connected.
Indeed, Americans express a sense of separation.. It is no wonder we hope a holiday will console us, help us feel connected.
Yet, as John Powell, a Psychologist at the University of Illinois Counseling Center, states "The frequency of contact and volume of contact does not necessarily translate into the quality of contact." The observer of social behavior understands; most persons, young or old, do what is comfortable, even if that means stay a safe distance apart from the persons he or she most wants in their lives.
Thus on this Thanksgiving Day, it may be important to reflect on all the hours before and after. Lynn Smith-Lovin, a Duke University Sociologist offers, "We know theseclose ties are what people depend on in bad times. "We're not saying people are completely isolated. They may have 600 friends on Facebook.com [a popular networking Web site] and e-mail 25 people a day, but they are not discussing matters that are personally important." Nor are these persons, when home, engaged in conversations that communicate much.
Possibly, parents and children can find more personal ways to establish and then retain a reciprocally reverent relationship. On this day of thanks, and the eve of Black Friday people may ponder; food, fun with those we barely know, and material finds are not golden.
Psychologist Madeline Levine, Author of The Price of Privilege" proclaims advantages are not always as they appear to be. Affluence does not breed brotherly alliances. Nor does money beget benevolence. Children do not connect to cash givers. Possessions may not leave a loved one proud. Moms and Dads cannot bequeath material goods and hope to receive emotional gifts in return. However . .
There are several thing parents can do: Families should eat dinner together [and truly talk] as much as possible, and kids should be involved in rituals -- at church, the synagogue, at Meals on Wheels or wherever.Parents need to impose consistent discipline, which will help kids develop self-control, which is vital.
Kids should never, ever, be paid for grades. Real learning is about effort and improvement, not performance. Your kid's C actually may be the far greater achievement than the A that comes easily.
And they should have chores. A lot of kids I see don't have to do anything except shine. And if you turn out kids who aren't expected to do anything but shine, you turn out narcissistic or self-centered kids. As one girl I see told me, "If I'm so special, why do I have to clear the table?"
Ah, the mundane deeds can be so divine. Everyday errands and exchanges can build character and give birth to a quality bond. On any date we can choose to be more open and honest in our interactions.
Thanksgiving Day and the holiday season are a good time to slow down, chat, and pay homage to the humanity that resides within your home. With relatives near or far, everyday deference would be even better. It is never too late to learn how to relate, to change habits, and to bring into being the tenderness that might not have existed in the early years. Expressions of gratitude and kindheartedness have no season, and need no reason. Thankful. Hopefully that is what each of us might feel. Beginning today, we can chose to consciously create togetherness from birth, in childhood, as adults, and always.
References and relationships . . .
- Tension common in parent-child relationships. Live Science. MSNBC. May 7, 2009
- Gene-Environment Interplay and the Origins of Individual Differences in Behavior, Frances A. Champagne and Rahia Mashoodh. Columbia University. Association for Psychological Science Volume 18-Number 3. Copyright 2009
- More Parent-Child Quality Time? Thank Harvard, BV Catherine Rampell. The New York Times. August 26, 2009, 2:25 PM
- That Parent-Child Conversation Is Becoming Instant, and Online, John Schwartz. The New York Times. January 3, 2004
- Fathers Gain Respect From Experts (and Mothers), By Laurie Tarkan. The New York Times. November 3, 2009
- When parents are too hands-on, By Stephanie Dunnewind. The Seattle Times. September 4, 2004
- I'm dreaming of a right-size Christmas, By Carolyn Butler. Washington Post. Monday, November 23, 2009 3:44 PM
- stimulate Mindful Emotional Eating: Leveraging More Coping per Calorie, By Pavel G. Somov PH.D. Psych Central. November 24, 2009
- Community Service Projects for Kids,Youth,& Families. Families With Purpose.
- Isolated Americans trying to connect. The Associated Press. USA Today. August 5, 2006
- Social Isolation Growing in U.S., Study Says, The Number of People Who Say They Have No One to Confide In Has Risen. By Shankar Vedantam. Washington Post. Friday, June 23, 2006
- Parents create 'disconnected' generation." UPI NewsTrack. 2006. Retrieved November 01, 2009 from accessmylibrary
- National Young Readers Week November 9 through the 13, 2009.
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on November 26, 2009 at 01:00 AM in "Take me as I am!", Adult Influence on Children, American Dream, American Family, Americana, Approval or Love, Art of Loving, Have or Be, Children, Communities and Communication , Daily Distress, Dreams Live and Die , Education or Economics, Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Empathy and Evolution, Family, Functioning, Fables, Fear, Health, Human Nature, Isolation. Insulation. , Looking at Life, Looking for Love, Over-Scheduling, Quality of Life | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Dalliance Defined
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
For me, it all began near a week ago. There was no word of it on the Nightly News. Nightline offered no interviews. Articles did not appear in popular, or prized periodicals. Even the National Enquirer had no exclusive accounts. Bloggers did mot blast me with rumors of what might have been. The story, while sensational, did warrant banner headlines. After all, neither person was as widely known as former Presidential aspirant John Edwards is. The woman may or may not have had a history that would titillate many a reader. I know not whether this thirty or forty-ish female was the mother of what the media would wish to label a "love child." I feel certain that her name is not Rielle Hunter or Lisa Druck. She is not the fictional character, Alison Poole. She was but a real person looking for love, as was he, in a parking lot.
I am not sure whether this is the first time, I have seen this particular pair. Often, over many years, before or after my daily swim in a public pool, I gaze upon a couple of cars positioned far on the fringe of the city acreage. The automobiles are not always the ones I saw days earlier. However, the coupes are consistently stationed at the farthest edge of the property. Each vehicle is expensive, a late model sedan, sports car, chassis, or coach, and always, the two will occupy spaces adjacent to the other. This time, the cars were identifiable; perhaps because, I was closer to the area reserved for lovers.
On this hot summer day, when I initially arrived at the commons, I sought shade for the "Silver Sweetness," or what others might think of as my vehicle. My swim is long. I thought it would be nice if my metal friend could be to be cool and comfortable as I stroked through the water. After, my dip in the pool, I returned to the parking lot. It was time to travel back home. As I approached my automobile, and saw the man and woman outside what, in that moment I thought might be their respective automobiles, I could not help but think they did not desire as I had. Noticeably, the pair had other priorities.
Unlike on other occasions over the many years, when cars were tightly closed as they sat alone on the edge of the lot, on this day no single car steamed from within. The windows in each of the two ostensibly joined vehicles were dry and clear. On this day, I observed the automobiles parked in "the spot" did not appear to be unoccupied for hours. Instead of the usual sight, cryptic cars, I witnessed people "in love."
They couple cooed, and warmly chortled in a public parking lot. The duet may have defined dalliance. The two whose cars sat empty, embraced as they leaned up against the side of what I later learned was the fellow's top-of-the-line BMW. Bavarian Motor Works can craft quite a coupe and this chap, apparently, had crafted quite a practice, medical I assume as I considered his attire. I think the automobile may have been an M6 convertible. If it was a lower priced model, the vehicle was certainly not near the bottom of the product-line. The sleek, streamline steel blue frame and navy canvas top were truly fine, speaking as one, who, as a child was a connoisseur of cars.
The gent, who wore hospital scrubs, and the woman, well-coiffed, in her casual and professionally tailored clothing, wanted more of their moment than I did of mine. I craved only protection from a blistering sun, for my metal companion. I sought a place to park and a swim, nothing more. It seemed my desires were far less significant than those of the twosome.
Bodily thirst and secrecy appeared to be their priority; at least that is what I surmised. Dalliance, in that moment was delicious. I could think of no other reason for two, so completely entangled, to escape the sanctity of home, or office and meet in a parking lot.
They had not come to swim. Bathing suits were not worn or stored in bags visible at their side. The two did not stroll. Nor did they travel away from the automobiles intent that they might swing rackets in the nearby tennis court. As I walked to the Silver Sweetness, and tried not to watch, I realized I was distracted, less so with their "actions" than my reaction.
I wondered; was this encounter a celebration of love. When people experience each other fully, hugs and kisses can be quite delightful. Was this one of these special, spontaneous, moments? It did not seem as such.
The flirtatious energy did not suggest that the two were formally intertwined forever. The playfulness did not express itself as familiarity frequently does; or at least what I witnessed was not as my experience when in a solid, secure, stable, and serene relationship. I felt a sense of ambiguity, awkwardness, or anxiety in the motions of this man and woman. Perchance, I interpreted what I saw incorrectly. I am willing to be wrong and admittedly, frequently, what I assume is in error.
Hence, I was haunted by the questions I felt a need to ask, but knew I could not. Were the two married or even emotionally, intimately involved? Perchance. Was this a tryst, an affair, an adventure, or excitement for those who yearned for exuberant enthusiasm in at least one avenue of life? I knew not, and did not dwell on what might be for either of these individuals. What I observed reminded me of times when I was infatuated, involved, or otherwise engaged.
The chestnut-haired woman smiled ever so broadly. She gazed into his eyes longingly, and held on to his body tightly. The long and lean man looked at the voluptuous frame of his female friend and visibly responded to her buxom body. The fellow looked into her face. Yet, he appeared to focus more on what he felt. He cupped her buttocks in his hands. Even from a distance, I could see his eyes darted to and from her ample bosom. The two laughed as they caressed each other's bulk.
As minutes passed, and I came closer, I pondered. Why would a couple comfortable in their relationship come to a public park only to stand together, smile, and smack lips, or rumps? I could think of no reason for such an adventure. Nonetheless, I acknowledge the truth of the adage, 'Different strokes for different folks.' I trust I cannot quarrel with what entertains another.
I looked away content in the knowledge that I could never know what is real for this couple or any persons. We are all so unique. I struggle to grasp what is within me, let alone presume to know what might be true for these two.
I continued on to my car. I chose to enjoy the day and my own doings, just as this duo did. Soon after, I had the sense the "friends," or "lovers" saw me. I felt four eyes upon me. I tried not to notice their glare. Yet, I recognized the energy had changed.
The mirth melted. The time for enchantment faded. The satisfaction expressed in smiles and soft giggles fell into silence. I had not meant to disturb them. Perhaps, their now evident need to dash had nothing to do with me. The time for afternoon-delights may have naturally come to an end. I know not. I was only certain I did not wish to intrude or be the cause of an abrupt closure.
I entered the Silver Sweetness and started the engine. I hoped that my anticipated exit might settle the minds of the two who now seemed hurried. As I placed the car [oh, how I hate to use that word when I describe the metal baby that has been so good to me] in gear, I looked out the windshield and saw that my move to leave had not eased the minds of this duet.
I reminded myself, what they do is not my choice. I cannot please, appease, affect, or alter individuals that I do not communicate with. I must accept that their actions are separate from me, although I felt a need to apologize. I did not wish to disturb. I could not say "I am sorry." That would have been more odd than any engagement they or I imagined.
Nonetheless. Through the corner of my eye, I observed the woman quickly slip into her Lexus roadster. Once snug in the single front seat of her pearl white luxury automobile, she placed the vehicle in gear and backed out. She drove a few feet to where her beau stood, and thoughtfully spoke a swift good-bye. Then, she sped off.
I decided not to follow her lead, and left more slowly. I did not wish to travel too near or flee too soon. I felt a strange need to give the woman her space. I placed a bottle of water to my mouth, and drank a bit. After, I departed. As I drove away, I wondered would the fellow follow.
The road from the community park to the main avenue is a long one. It may be half a mile long. As I turned onto the back boulevard, I saw the pearl-white Lexus coupe was long gone. Far off into the distance, I saw the woman was about to enter the main street. The chap never appeared in my rear-view mirror. Only thoughts of what had occurred were visible.
I thought of the times in my life when I was immersed in infatuation. Thoughts of another could fill an entire day, weeks, months and even years. I recall how I might do what I did not desire or delay more meaningful activities. More than once, in retrospect, I pondered what might have been if my head and heart were one.
How many hours had I wasted as I sought love and settled for lust? As I journeyed home, my mind was filled with the folly of intimacy and how often, when in a whirlwind relationship, people to do not really relate. They take no time to meditate. Most couples barely deliberate. Sincere discussions can be a distraction when individuals just want to do it!
Often, I realize depth in a love liaison is void. Conversation can be vacuous. Veracity is too often vacant. The vigor and vitality felt is vast, more so than any authenticity. What passes for passion is frequently fantasy. The illusion is fantastic, and the involvement is just for fun.
I think of what I have heard from men and women alike when they speak of past loves, or even those they bed in the present. So often, in retrospect, a man once intent on an adventure such as I observed, will muse.
"When she wasn't out at nightclubs, she was taking acting classes. We dated for only a few months, but in that period, I spent a lot of time with her and her friends, whose behavior intrigued and appalled me to such an extent that I ended up basing a novel on the experience," [he] recalled.
Indeed, only today a chap I am acquainted with described the woman he once hugged, kissed, and met away from the office, or his home as "an ostensibly jaded, cocaine-addled, sexually voracious 20 [30-40-50 . . .] year-old." As he spoke, I wondered of his former female friend. I wondered; what might this lovely lady have said of him? Would she say of the man who stood before me, "He is a cute and conservative chap whose . . .
idea of wild is argyle socks. [The once wondrous woman could also soundly state] But it's okay, I like straight guys, I'd never go out with anybody who's as irresponsible as me. Most of the guys I know have really high-powered jobs and make up for lost time when they're not in the office. The Beserk After Work Club. I seem to attract them in a big way, all these boys in Paul Stuart suits with six-figure salaries and hellfire on a dimmer switch in their eyes."
Perhaps, the inamorata, who many would define as traditional, a conventional sort might conclude when with friends she trusts, "Men. I've never met any. They're all boys. I wish I didn't want them so much . . . I hate being alone, but when I wake up in some guy's bed . . . and he's snoring like a garbage truck, I go - let me out of here."
Each of us can only imagine of others, and consider our own truths. What motivates us, moves us, and what is in the minds of those of us whose story does not appear on the Nightly News. When we dash towards and dither in a relationship that takes more time than it might be worth, what are our thoughts.
My own experience tells me, in each of my close encounters, I avoided, as much, if not more than I approached. Sex was perhaps easier than a cherished connection. In serious conversations with many, I have discovered my interactions and I are not as rare as people may wish to propend. Dalliance is not quite the dream we would wish it to be.
A gent is often more comfortable with a sweetie he can spoon, than one who he might wish to wed. Gals may prefer to engage with men they rather not marry. For some the excitement entices; for others convenience is cool. A few express concern they cannot find the one and only. These individuals sing, "If you cannot be with the one you love, love the one you are with."
No matter what those of us who do not make the news say or do, I suspect each of us can wonder; what might an observer say of our escapades, our affairs, the excursions we make to the park, the hotel room, or any of the other out of the way places we go. Our exploits are yet to be exploited. Might we inquire, could we take the scrutiny we often impose upon others. I know I could not. In truth, as I observed the couple in my community, I could think only of me. What had my "love" life been and why?
The Power of Passion Perused . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on August 11, 2008 at 01:00 PM in Approval or Love, Art of Loving, Have or Be, Compassion, Conflict, Complex, Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Looking at Life, Looking for Love | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The Lesson; All Beings Are a Beautiful Bundle of Love
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
The day was delightful. The water was superb. The sun was full and bright. A few billowy, puffy clouds floated through the sky. They were white, cumulus, fluffy fellows, the type that excite many a child as they gaze into the heavens. In parks, on lawns, little ones were likely looking up and pointing. "Look," they might say, "It is a horse, a donkey, or perchance a unicorn." It was a day for whimsy. The children, playful in the pool, barely noticed the graceful shapes as they danced above their heads. Instead, they were focused on what they decided were June bugs.
Three young sweet girls stood in the warm water near their Daddy. All were calm, content, and serene. The sisters chatted easily. Father smiled. The youngest lass expressed her curiosity. As her sibling searched for bugs on the plastic rope line, the "baby" in the family asked of the insects. "Are they icky to touch," the cautious curly haired youngster inquired. The more confident elder sister said, "No! They are cute," she said. See." The "older" child showed the girl of fewer years.
A stranger, in the adjacent lane was preparing to swim. Becky was her name. She was much older than the children, and perhaps no wiser; nonetheless, she share her assessment of the beetle. Becky said of the six-legged lovelies, "They are life; all creatures are beautiful." With that thought, the father beamed, and the older lady plunged head first into the water filled cement reservoir.
Lap after lap and look after look the woman and children enjoyed the quiet of the day. The words the swimmer shared seemed to hang in the air. People came and went, throughout the afternoon, and splendor was all anyone saw.
Then, everything changed. The evolution from tranquil to trauma was slow; nonetheless, unexpected. Those in the recreation park were struck, as if by a bolt of lightening. However, unlike when a storm threatens, swimmers were not forced to leave the pool. The jolt evoked more silence. No one screamed, but the sole boy, victim to the method his Mom's adopted for instruction.
The young mother, a woman, perhaps, in her early thirties, was extremely pleasant in appearance, and it seemed her personality was equally delightful. She, Madison, entered the deck area with her small son in her arms. Skin, beautifully tanned, this well-dress lady strode to the lifeguard tower. The little guy, let us call him, Michael, was not as bronze in color, and was visibly agitated. Michael whimpered, even as his Mom held him close.
Becky, the swimmer who enjoyed the company of the little lasses and their Dad before she began her exercise had just finished the more strenuous part of her routine when the mother and child came into view. Becky, a teacher, enjoyed children, in or outside the classroom. She marveled at the openness of a mind not yet crushed by the weight of worry. The sincerity of a small one was a source of fascination for Becky. Children, early in life, were candid and joyous, at least most were, or appeared to be.
Little Michael, a lad, maybe three, or four, was not a cheerful child. He wore no glee on his face, although his features were cute as could be from what Becky was able to see. When the swimmer first noticed Madison and Michael, they were yards away. They approached the guard tower at the opposite end of the pool and spoke with Brianna, the young adult hired to protect the public in an emergency. Becky thought nothing of the interaction. She was relieved to have only her stretches left to complete. Becky moved the shallow end and commenced with another ritual.
Behind her, a metal chair scraped along the concrete. The sound startled her and she looked up at the area where people sat enjoying the sun. Had Becky waited just a moment she would have known Michael and Madison had moved closer to her. The cries filled the air. The sweet little boy shrieked, "I wanna go see Daddy." Michael howled; "No Mom!!!! No!" His face scrunched tightly, this little lovable fellow yelled, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Please Mom! No!" Michael repeated the words, "I wanna go see Daddy!"
His mother chided him, gently. "We have to do this." Madison did not seem to believe she could quiet her son's fears. An expectation that the little guy might enjoy was void from her voice. The Mom simply worked feverishly, to accomplish the dreaded task. She prepared Michael for his dip in the water, and said, "Let's just get this over with."
Becky continued with her work out and wondered of the circumstances. Perchance, the mother and father were divorced or newly separated. Michael may have expressed the deep distress he felt for a family no longer united. Becky, the daughter of parents who parted understood how stressful such a situation might be. She was eight when . . . her reverie was interrupted.
Madison had abruptly carried Michael to the step at the shallow end of the pool. The Mom now wore a white shirt over her own bathing suit. Sweetly, she smiled and leaned forward. Madison said to Becky, "I do not wish to disturb you. I want to warn you; I am teaching my son to swim and he screams, loudly." As an experienced educator, Becky imagined it would be a mild and momentary shout. As one who swims daily and had for well over a decade, the teacher witnessed many a young child learn to paddle and breathe in water.
Indeed, at this very facility she has observed perhaps hundreds of child learn to master their strokes. The excellent swim teachers, parents and paid professionals, helped calm many a neophyte nerve. Often Becky watched with admiration as patient Moms, Dads, and lifeguards helped little ones wade through the water. It was as she shared with the girls earlier in the day, "They, people and insects, are life. All creatures are beautiful."
What Becky witnessed next was not beautiful; it was brutal! Madison held Michaels arms tightly. She forced him into the water. The Mom insisted the boy's head remain face down immersed until she pulled him up. Apparently, they had practiced this cycle before. Becky now understood why Michael cringed and cried out long before he was ever near the expansive liquid sea.
Initially, the trained instructor was paralyzed. Becky could not imagine that a mother might torment her child. The volume of Michaels screams increased. His little arms flailed. "Mom, No! Pleassssssssse!" The emotional agony he felt was palpable. Mom did not stop as he pleaded. The pain on his face did not move Madison to succumb. His words, his anguish, nothing stopped this mother on her quest. For Becky, what must have been a minute or less seemed like hours, years, decades. She thought of sweet obedient Michael. While he shed many a tear and shrieked when he could gasp for air, the little love did as he was told or required to do. He dropped his head into the pool on demand.
Off into the distance, in the parking lot, just outside the fence, Becky noticed a late model shiny black vehicle. The man at the wheel peered in. His car was not situated in a space meant for stopping. This fellow seemed interested in the antics of Madison and Michael. Becky mused; possibly the sound of suffering haunted him as it did her. She could not stand by a moment longer.
With an earnest concern, Becky expressed her empathy for the child. She inquired; "Is he frightened.." The mother responded, "He can swim." Becky queried aloud, had the mother sought other means for instruction. Perchance, if Michael were given the opportunity to slowly adjust to the water. If he were allowed to breathe easily as he slowly learned to stoke . . . Becky's words were cut off. Still somewhat genteel and reserved, Madison explained, "This is what his teacher taught me to do." "She is excellent. Everyone goes to her. They call her the swim Nazi."
The practiced swimmer, and professional educator, shared her own expertise. Becky told of a time when she worked with another teacher who was extremely punitive. This castigatory colleague was an award winner. Some children loved her, parents too. Students taught Becky what she had not known; if you are raised in a family where cruelty is common, you learn to believe that rough treatment is love. Violence is fondness when a family is familiar with vicious behavior.
Becky spoke of a man she loves. He was introduced to swimming in much the way Michael was guided. This man loathes his parents. As an adult, he says of himself, he is really messed up. For the man Becky cares for, trust is not an option. The lesson he learned at the hands of his mother, who taught him how to swim, just as Madison now advised Michael, is that people will hurt you.
In this very short and quick conversation Becky, recalled her own memories, and how she has vivid recollections of events in that occurred in her life when she was younger than Michael. Becky looked over at Michael's face. The torment was already etched into his skin. The screeches scarred him.
Madison listened, maybe. She was polite. The Mom never let go of her cherished son, Michael. The activity did not stop. Nor did the blood curdling screams. The echoes of pain continued to pierce the air, and break delicate decorum.
People within the recreation center while startled, they stood still or pretended to ignore what escaped no one. Only Becky articulated her concern. Madison expressed her interest; more so once she realized Becky is an educator. However, without a moment of hesitation, or a break from or for Michael, she offered a retort. "I will speak with the teacher." Becky again offered, the teacher does what she thinks is best. Perhaps, she, just as the pupils Becky spoke of, had parents who were as aggressive as she was.
Those who admire the techniques the Nazi swim teacher endorses may also be intimately acquainted with instruction through intimidation. "In my family no one yells," Becky said. Madison responded; the same was true in her life. She and her husband do not scream.
Michael continues to squeal. "Mom, Please, No!" He thrashes. He grabs for her mother. Michael reaches for Madison's shirt and slaps her body and face. The Mom had mentioned she wore the blouse just for this purpose. Michael grabbed at the swim instructor, just as prescribed, and when with her, Michael clawed for Madison's clothing.
His moves do not seem to suggest an intention to hurt the mother Michael loves. From appearances, the boy only hopes to find a source of solace. He wants to hold on to someone, anyone. His words seem to express a desire that his Mom will save him from her. The child cries out again and again. He flaps; he flounders. Little lovable Michael thrashes and struggles. Madison was not discouraged.
Still alert and attentive to her purpose, Madison proclaims, "The swim teacher has them trained within a week." Once more, she says, "Everyone goes to her." She may have sensed or seen Becky's alarm. Apprehensive, the mother said, "I will speak to my husband. He is in the car."
Becky realized the man who she had observed earlier might have studied the pair with an interest that could not be described. Possibly, what the father felt was beyond words. Becky knew that emotionally, this event tugged at her heartstrings. She wondered; did the Dad wait for he too could not endure the misery inflicted on his son. How could a mother be so cruel? How could anyone treat a child with such contempt? Why were words of compassion and caution not enough to stop the abuse? Was Becky alone in her anguish?
She exited the pool area, entered the locker room. Then she scrubbed herself in the shower. All the while Becky heard the howls and the hollers. This small sorrowful soul did not rant or rage against his Mom. He only called out for help. Each shout sliced the air and sent chills up Becky's spine. She could hardly contain her own tears.
Becky left the building and again approached Madison, whose energy and purpose had not waned. The worried woman spoke, "If I could I would like to inquire; would it not be better if Michael loved his lessons (and the person who teaches him)?" Did she share the latter thought? She was so troubled, she did not know what she said. Had she asked if it was necessary to master the skill in a week? Madison ignored Becky. She was done with this exchange. She said to Michael, "Just a few more minutes."
Defeated, Becky left the deck. She walked to the office where the guards stood in alert. The group discussed what left each of them distraught. A resigned Brianna verbalized her belief, "There is nothing we can do or say." Shocked to discover Becky spoke to the woman, Brianna began to ask of what was said. Then she realized Madison, with a drained and strained Michael in her arms, was near. She let out a sound that signaled the need for silence.
The mother and her madness quickly fled the premises. After a short discussion with the guards, Becky thanked them for listening to her fears and followed the path from the pool to the parking lot. Apparently, the couple and their child were settling into the coupe. The father glanced over as he saw Becky near the vehicle. Nothing was said. For Becky, there were no words.
She pondered. Was Becky the person now considered a predator? Had Madison grumbled to her husband as she shared details of the encounter? Exhausted and uncertain of the empathy she had supposed all beings had for others, Becky went to her car. She could not drive away, although she saw the family did. The lover of living beings, of children, could not fully understand what existed only for moments in her own life. She was haunted by the hurt she saw in Michael's face and heard in his calls.
Stunned and shaken Becky sat trembling for a very long time. She wailed; she wept. Had she just let a sweet child fend for himself in a world too awful to survive?
Hours passed and Becky imagines, in her life, Michael, and the impression he made on her would never move on. Sadly, she fears, what for her was but minutes, for Michael, will be life.
Becky had mentioned to Madison, or hoped she had, the effect of trauma. To this day, the older educator recounts the stresses that transformed her being. The lessons, what her Mom, Dad, and mentors did supposedly for her benefit, if not facilitated fondly, harmed her deeply. Cognizant that children absorb all they encounter and are affected by every exchange, Becky contemplates the drama Michael endured.
In a desire to calm her self, Becky, an educator who loves to learn, sought answers. She had so many questions, so many concerns. As a teacher, never labeled a dictatorial tyrant, she had much trepidation. What had Madison taught Michael? Was he expected to sink or swim? As she read, her angst increased. What would become of Michael?
How Do You Recognize a Patient (or Person) with Trauma if it is Not Always Obvious?
Different people respond differently to traumatic events. Some people will carry it around in ways that everybody can see that they've been impacted. But most people actually will go through a traumatic experience and won't have any easily visible or obvious manifestation of that. The problems may emerge many months or sometimes even years after the original event. So it's very important for people who are trying to understand trauma to become aware of the various ways in which traumatic symptoms can manifest, the various ways in which trauma can be carried forward by children and adults, and the pervasive impact that trauma has independent of the way someone is observed to perform.How Do Relationships Affect the Way the Brain Develops?
Human beings are at our core, relational creatures. We are designed to live, work, play, and grow in groups. The very nature of humanity arises from relationships. You learn language, you learn social language, you learn appropriate emotional regulation, and essentially everything that's important about life as a human being you learn in context of relationships. And the very substance of a successful individual is bathed in a whole host of relationships with people in that person's life . . .
Can You Continue with the Relationships and How it Affects the Brain
When you look at someone, when you hear someone, when you have a conversation, when you make a joke with somebody, when you touch someone, every single one of those physical interactions are translated into patterned neuronal activity that go into the brain of both people in that interaction and result in positive changes. These physical changes influence our immune system and they influence the autonomic nervous system that controls your heart and your lungs and your gut. Literally, when people have a wealth of relationships, where relationships are present in high quantities and they're of good quality, these individuals are actually physically healthier, they're emotionally healthier, they're more cognitively enriched, and they actually reach their potential to be humane in ways that are impossible without relationships.It's a very interesting thing that people don't really appreciate this very much, but that there's no better biological interaction that you can have than a relationship.
Yes, all beings are but a beautiful bundle of love. Yet, rarely do humans honor that veracity. So few people understand the depth of each interaction. Too frequently, individuals do what was done to them, or what they think they can. Societal standards, customs, traditions, the lessons taught by authoritarian teachers shape them. People learn. Yet, they may not have studied the ultimate lesson. We are each a lovely and fragile beings. We grow well when hearts, minds, bodies, and souls are tenderly touched.
"Michael, I am soooooooo sorry," Becky mused. What of the relationship she had with Michael, or for that matter, with all beings. What affect did her actions or inactions have. Becky though of how all that occurred developed, and how Michael might grow. "If only I had done more, been more, were a better teacher to your Mom, or had offered to help you learn to swim." Becky, heart heavy with regret promised herself, if she were to meet this family again, she would . . . in truth, she did not know what she could or would do. She only hoped that someone would tell her. How does one swim in a world where too many forget, all beings are but a bundle of love.
Sources and Suffering . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on July 6, 2008 at 09:00 AM in "Take me as I am!", Abuse, Adult Influence on Children, Aggression, Approval or Love, Art of Loving, Have or Be, Change the World [Within], Children, Desire to Learn, Dreams Live and Die , Education, Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Empathy and Evolution, Family, Functioning, Fables, Life, A Forward Motion, Looking at Life, Nature or Nurture, Quality of Life, Teach The Children | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Fight The Smears; Silence is Not Golden
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
Today, change has come. Contrary to the reality that has filled centuries of history, a Presidential candidate has chosen to Fight the Smears. Barack Obama, a man whose first name is defined as my own, "blessed," has opened a door. He has unlocked a window. Thankfully, the propitious aspirant has risen above supposed ceilings. Presidential hopeful Obama has endorsed a principle that I discovered as a child. Secrets are the source of sorrow.
Barack Obama's campaign revealed a Web site this morning entitled "Fight the Smears" -- aimed at, . . . beating back misinformation, half truths or downright lies being spread about the Democratic nominee via television, the Web, radio and, most pervasively, e-mail."The Obama campaign isn't going to let dishonest smears spread across the Internet unanswered," explained campaign spokesman Tommy Vietor.
Intentional slander causes great pain. Individuals who malign advance untold misery. Only the truth can set any of us free. However, few wish to speak of what they know. Most repeat the proverb, "Ignorance is bliss." Yet, in life, we may realize, when we are quiet, gospel is often fleeting.
Americans witness an amplified effect of silence each election year. What was intentionally withheld and accidentally revealed, or what was not explained well in advance to the electorate reverberates as it rolls through the press. Barack Obama understood this before he began his Presidential bid, or possibly, he did what was his habit.. In his biographical accounts, Dreams From My Father and The Audacity of Hope, the Senator honestly revealed some of what might have been considered character flaws. Perchance, he only exposed the ways one works through a rite of passage.
My Mom, a wondrous woman who believes, we must "never suffer" would have been impressed by a man who freely disclosures as Barack Obama has. I feel certain Senator Obama's mother was pleased with the person she raised to be real. Perhaps, Barack Obama's parent helped him to muse as my Mom did for me when she said, "In some families there are skeletons in the closet. In our home, there are no spaces in which to store the bones." In my life, people speak of what is in a moment. Myths do not become accepted as legends. I have come to recognize, forever is fluid when people are free to be.
In homes such as mine, no one need tiptoe around the torrid tales. Topics are not taboo. I experience when people are authentic in word and deed, individuals feel safe, secure, and serene. They trust that discussions are endless. Disagreements do not end a relationship; they begin an evolution. I know this to my core. I have lived it for a lifetime. Friends, who were less familiar with what always was in my family, through me, have come to appreciate secrets need not be.
I had and will forever have faith that no one is supremely correct. Nor are any of us mistaken. The only blunder, I believe, is a purposeful intent to cause pain. I do not think conversations injure, or at least dialogues need not do harm. However, for some this is the objective. In an election season, the people see what is contrary to the standard in my family. It seems the plan is to persistently penetrate any semblance of sympathy for a defined opponent. Conversations amongst candidates are not compassionate. Even constituents bicker brutally. Countrywide everyone speaks of a desire for peace, while they consciously war.
For me, disagreements are fine. They need not be feuds. In my mind, heart, body, and soul, chatter does not equate to conclusions. Talk is the catalyst for what is, in my life, eternal, slow change.
Perchance, if we as a nation truly wish to create a fertile future the manner in which we speak, and our expectation for what needs to be in an exchange or an election must be altered. However, if that is to occur we must acknowledge, transformation comes from within individuals.
With access to information, ah, what a mind can do. Malleable psyche morphs in ways we cannot see and in moments that may not make sense to any of us. Frequently, I have observed hearts melt when we share "stories" serenely.
Each of us may have an effect on another; however, we cannot know what that might be. Thus, we speak and hope we are heard. We listen; if we are open, we learn what we never imagined. Perhaps, the "blessed" Barack Obama, was instructed at his Mom's knee just as the "blessed one" Betsy was. What might be awkward, if not addressed, will forge a feeling of deep distress.
I was taught to endorse the adage, "Silence is Not golden." Indeed, I discovered, without words, people can only assume. Assumptions are often erroneous. At times, so too are our thoughts. Yet, we may wish to believe what is real for us is obvious., even if odious, and inaccurate.
Hence, I, as a human, one in a species that is bit too emotional for my taste, when given divergent information, initially, may become defensive. Nonetheless, I know I will forever reflect on every word another offers. I suspect others do as well. My belief is that this theory has spurred the Fight the Smears campaign.
Over time, and with or without further discussions, I may evolve to a place not entered before. I love the enlightenment that grows with empathy. Thus, I participate endlessly. I seek wisdom wherever it may be. I am convinced, knowledge is everywhere. Erudition will empower me. Ellen, my dear sweet compeer encourages me to have courage in my convictions.
Ellen and I are good friends and have been for well over a decade. We are extremely open with each other. Authentic honesty that does no harm is a habit of mine, and one she adopted unexpectedly in time. Given that all is discussed candidly, and with great care for the other, each of trusts we will not be declined an opportunity to speak. Smears will not be forthcoming. What is said in person will not be awkwardly courteous. Reciprocal reverence is sincere.
Nonetheless, or perhaps, because we are genuine with each other, disputes occur. Politically, we are as far apart as two persons might be. In an election year, needless to say, we can expect other emotive outbursts. A recent one was animated, just as our agreements are. Our earlier interchange illustrates what I believe and why I welcome a focus on the smears.
In my life, as I shared earlier, when people address misinformation, misunderstandings, or mysteries much can be revealed and resolved. Ellen and I, in our relationship, exemplify what is possible when people endorse a policy of "no secrets."
Days ago, each of us was excited as we discussed our sense of political truths. When our voracious vocal analysis ended, some might have thought venom was the cause. It was not. Shuns did not give rise to a sudden silence Essentially, all was postponed, for each of us was late for an appointment.
Ellen had no doubt that we would chat again. She knows very well, I do not leave conversations behind. Nor does she with me. Neither of us would hide from a possible conflict. History helps us to know this would not be our last quarrel. When one is so far from another politically; yet, so close when principles are practiced, certainly there will be quibbles. Nonetheless, these will likely progress as calmly as this one did, or as others have.
One or the other of us will call, write, or come over. Neither of us will avoid the subject that may have been the source of sore feelings. Perchance, in our personal lives, diplomacy is a practical policy. Ellen and I will chat of what occurred. We will speak of why we said and did as was done. All the while we will warmly express how much we value the other, even the opinions we might think odd.
Again, we will reassure each other. There are no facts. Every individual has faith in what they think accurate. Ellen, I, any individual has a unique perspective. Those who think as we do, dependent on the policy, principle, or practice, do not share our history and a particular point of view. Others will reach a conclusion upon reflection, as will we, which could be you or me. What each being evaluates is envisioned through a personal lens. Eyes and emotions are our sieves.
Ellen and I know to our core, my history is not hers. Her experiences are not mine. Our backgrounds and experiences are dissimilar. The effect of every encounter will be internalized differently. Nonetheless, or indeed, each of us is the change we can believe in.
A broad focus on a shared Fight against Smears, may help to create a community that truly cares. A site that teaches us how the world might function if everyone is open, may serve to keep the peace.
It is for this reason I applaud Barack Obama and those who seek specifics from the source. Granted, Barack and Michelle Obama will not have a chance to look into the eyes of every American. They will not be able to touch the hand or the heart of all citizens in the world. Time will not allow for personal introductions and interchanges. Nonetheless, I believe it is important to begin a practice void in most homes and absent on the campaign trail.
I have faith that if we face the rancor that resonates when misinformation becomes the message, we all will be better off.
Humans appreciate, people will prattle incessantly. Words will be whispered down the lane. Labels will linger if left out in the cold, or locked in a closet and hermetically sealed. However, if we, the persons who are the subject of the silliness that passes for truth, share what is real for us, people may listen, or at least in my life they have.
As I shared, for me, love is the only absolute. It is a challenge to love someone we do not genuinely know. I thank Barack Obama for removing the veil that too often in public forum obscures veracity.
I experience, if we wish to be trusted, we must trust that others desire to know us as we are. I am grateful, Barack Obama is willing to share truth with us. To speak to slurs and slights is to fight for the peace that has never bee part of a political campaign.
Open dialogue is the change I believe in. I appreciate the invitation to talk. I think, together, we can Fight the Smears, challenge affronts, and enter into a world of empathy.
References for the fight . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on June 12, 2008 at 07:01 PM in Approval or Love, Compassion, Conflict, Complex, Elections, Emotional Intelligence, Empathy and Evolution, Lies, Life, A Forward Motion, Light. Darkness., Looking at Life | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Reverend Wright, Senators Obama and Clinton, Moral Issues; Reality of Relationships
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
Clerics and parishioners are in the news. In truth, Reverend Pastor Jeremiah Wright and Barack Obama are discussed each day, in most every hour. The quality and quantity of familiarity within that relationship is the topic of much conversation. Hillary Clinton espouses, moral issues matter. Many within the electorate agree. The ethical principles of a Presidential hopeful will have a profound effect on the nation, and the planet. As Jennifer Wills ponders the scenes as they play out before an eager public, she reflects on her own life. She thinks of the trials, and tribulations that she feels when she loves friends as much as family.
Miss Wills is a white woman, fifty-five years of age. This educator is an extremely devout individual. She teaches at a religious school and has for more than a score. Professionally, Jennifer is required to present lessons on piety. The deity of her faith is discussed daily in her classroom. Miss Wills revels in the curriculum. She loves to help her fourth grade pupils explore how and why the Almighty affects their lives.
Years ago, Miss Wills mentored an older group of young persons through her family's church. In her house of worship, she sings in the choir. Jennifer was not paid in dollars to show teens the way; nor is she compensated for the hymns she hums in the many Sunday and Holiday services. Her devotion to the Lord and to his commandments has eternally been compensation enough. Jennifer gladly gives of herself; she shares what she believes and is open to the wisdom of others. However, admittedly she acknowledges she has free will. Jennifer chooses for herself who will and how another might guide her. Miss Wills places her faith in the Lord and the strength he has given her.
Jennifer Wills is among the working class. She epitomizes Middle America. Her life is average and for Jenn that is best. Contrary to what one of her closest dearest friends thinks, Miss Wills considers herself a woman who strongly believes in the liberation of her gender. Jennifer was and is proud to be female. More than a decade ago, Jennifer thought Hillary Clinton could possibly be the first woman President of the United States. She was grateful that the citizens of New York State, twice elected the esteemed former First Lady to the Senate. Miss Wills admires what the Democratic candidate does, or did.
However, in the last few weeks Jennifer felt a need to question what she thought to be true. Was Hillary Clinton the person Jennifer thought her to be? Would the New York Senator be good for the country? Did this dynamic women, a Presidential aspirant truly represent Jennifer and womankind? Miss Wills wondered.
The Reverend Wright issue has caused Jennifer to reflect further. Miss Wills has attended her church for all of her adult life. She has been an active member. Unlike most who attend Mass occasionally, Jennifer is consistent. She does not pray only on the Sabbath. Nor does she enter the Lord's house one day a week. Indeed, Miss Wills walks through the doors of a temple when at work and for pleasure. Jennifer trusts G-d does not take a day to rest; he offers reverence with his every breath. So too does the faithful Miss Wills.
Jennifer believes if we are to be one as a nation veneration is vital. Yet, frequently, for what seems to be months, Jennifer, and all of America has heard Hillary Clinton empathically state her contempt. Consistently, on the campaign trail, and in front of cameras, the candidate declares, "I think given all we have heard and seen, he would not have been my pastor." The inference is as the abrasive judgment, "Shame on you, Barack Obama." Jennifer wonders, what might this potential Commander say in private. Jenn ruminates.
She considers her own circumstances. Often, as Miss Wills sits and listens to the sermons of one minister or another, she marvels at the passion expressed. Yet, Jennifer does not always agree with the content. A homily may inspire the dedicated parishioner, while specifics within the text may trouble her. Granted, she understands why Presidential aspirant Clinton's may proclaim, "You don't choose your family, but you choose what church you want to attend."
Tis True. Yet, Jennifer knows to her core, the church is more than one spiritual leader. For Jennifer, the community, the connection to family, and tradition keep her coming back. She forgives those whose philosophies may have trespassed against her own.
Miss Wills is certain that what she gleans from a homily is significant. She acknowledges that she can admire the man and aspects of his message. The Pastor may lead the congregation; however, each parishioner will follow their own path. Jennifer does not feel a need to accept an entire oration as truth. For Jennifer, the feeling, what the communication evokes is the essence. As an observant person for all of her life, Jennifer has come to realize every individual is unique. Shepherds of the Lord are not different than other humans. They feel; they are flawed.
Oh, how Jennifer would wish to forget what she learned of her former Anglican. A priest, who most would muse had fallen from grace, is no less wondrous to Miss Wills who remembers when he gave Communion to her nieces and nephews. Jennifer does not believe the Lord Almighty loves the cleric less when his behavior is questionable. Jennifer was taught to have faith that we are forgiven, and she will not be the first, or last to cast a stone.
The Pastor who presided over her sisters' nuptials is not less holy when his political stance is not as Jennifer thinks prudent. Ah, but the ceremony was beautiful. The service, the sermon . . . Perhaps, if Jennifer ever marries, she will ask the same Vicar to share a similar recitation.
As a Christian, a believer in Judeo-Christian principles, Miss Wills believes all individuals must be understood as they travel towards enlightenment. Another human can absolve his fellow being as he or she strives for greater illumination. We are all here on Earth to learn. Jennifer refuses to define others, even when they are recognized as "Father." Miss Wills experiences that within the sanctity of our shrines, each person will divine their own truth.
While Hillary Clinton may have exited a church when the Pastor did not please her, Jennifer Wills could not and has not on the many occasions when she thought the words of the wise were not as she held to be true.
Miss Wills would never deem to judge another so harshly. She recalls a time when the elite among the ecclesiastic decided the man who led the choral society was not the best for the job. Jennifer had learned to love the maestro. Sure, she saw the man who mentored the singers sling an ugly phrase or two. She heard Mark, the musical genius, rant, and rage. Jennifer understood, the teacher of tunes was a perfectionist, and at times, persons in the chorus were less than ideal. Flaws could frustrate the musician. Indeed, the conductor was easily agitated.
Apparently, so was the church council. After more than a year of what the hierarchy and the Board felt was anguish, they concluded change was necessary. Choir leader, Mark was let go. Jennifer was torn. She understood many members were unhappy with the vocal trainer. However, she felt his heart in every exchange. Mark cared so deeply for his craft, and for those he worked with. Jennifer cherished him. Under his tutelage, Miss Wills gained confidence. She grew. She realized she had a beautiful voice, and in some ways, Mark empowered her. Without him, Jennifer wonders, would she have ever learned to carol?
Miss Wills, after the dismissal, was asked to take sides. The Pastor who worked fervently to remove the musician from his position and friends from the choir thought that she, as they, must denounce and reject Mark. While Miss Wills understood their distress, she did not share the same.
Within the church community, there are many prominent persons, pious, and prized. They are not family; yet, Jennifer is fond of these individuals in a special way. She would not think to openly comment on or criticize these persons. Nor would Jennifer ever encourage the conversation in the press. Behind a podium and on a platform, Miss Wills would not seek a forum for spite.
Miss Wills understands how when a man, be he clergy or common, is wounded, he will lash out. Jennifer would not wish to embarrass or harm another human. Yet, she observes that those who oppose Barack Obama in a political battle hope to have the blood flow. Jennifer considers, if she did as Senator Clinton and her contributors have done, she could not face her students, or her G-d.
Being the tempered teacher that she is, Jennifer does not think it decent or divine to dictate righteousness without any sense of sympathy for a soul, sensitivity to the stress, or consideration for the situation. A fellow being lambasted for months is not saved by one who blatantly, and while in the spotlight, defines their worrisome words as "offensive" and "outrageous."
To express disagreement, perhaps disappointment may be understandable. However, to vehemently, assert, "I'm going to express my opinion, others can express theirs," with no knowledge of the man beyond a moment, Miss Wills thinks is malicious. In a fit of fury, behind closed doors, with only friends in attendance, even Jennifer has expressed hurtful statements. Were they heard by those she spoke of she would regret having ever uttered the words. For Jennifer, only G-d has the right to condemn a being in the manner Senator Clinton did when she spoke of Reverend Wright on the Bill O'Reilly Show this last day in April.
Jennifer Wills understands why Barack Obama honors Reverend Wright., the man. It made perfect sense to this pious person that the man of hope could not denounce or reject the person, only the words his Pastor presented. This educator has learned much over the years in church and through her personal connections. Jennifer understands relationships are a challenge.
For the past thirty-seven years, Miss Wills has had a friend who was and is there for her. The two frequently dine together. They have traveled the country, one with the other. Terra and Jennifer frequently go to the cinema, the theatre; they remain forever bonded. Politically, Miss Wills and her companion would be in a constant state of conflict were Jennifer to ever speak of her truth as she does with others.
Terra is a businesswoman, a compulsive, career driven atheist. She swings severe verbal blows with steadfast persistence. Indeed, Terra is the friend who defined Jennifer as other than a women's rights activist, although Miss Wills believes herself to be committed to the cause.
Where Miss Wills worries about how her words might affect another; Terra does not. For this nonbeliever, vitriol is valued. Nonetheless, Jennifer met Terra when she was eighteen years old. She feels as though she has learned much through the association; Jenn has learned to love, appreciate, and even admire those who differ from her. In times of need and deep sorrow, Terra has been and will always be with Miss Wills. They share in a special way
While the life-long acquaintance may not be present and able to perform in a manner that is most benevolent, Terra is emotionally available in a way that appeases, appeals, and even pleasures Jennifer. It is good to have friends, people who know you, and care for you.
Miss Wills watches the Reverend Wright scenario unfold. Jennifer listens to the divisive rhetoric and as the scriptures counsel, she "clings" to the religious principles that have served her well all of her life. This teacher of good, for the first time since the current Presidential campaign began admitted this week, she is now "bitter." Hillary Clinton, and the venom she spews, causes Jennifer much concern.
The New York Senator says over and over again "I will fight for you." Jennifer has concluded; if this is what it means to fight, she cannot support a combatant. A pugilist does not bring her joy. Nor will she feel saved if Hillary Clinton is identified as her redeemer.
Educator, Miss Will wants her pupils to look up to the President, to emulate the Commander-In-Chief. A warrior, even if she is a woman, will not teach the children well. As Jennifer considered a contrite Barack Obama, as she watched him speak of the man who he once loved, she felt she could relate.
At times, those who have deeply touched our soul, act in ways that are troublesome. We are powerless to change them. We may feel a need to separate ourselves for safety and sanity. However, while our heart is broken, the spirit survives as does the hope. People heal. Perhaps, once the Pastor has worked through his ancient anger, once we have walked through the pain . . . Let Americans pray for a peace, for unity, for a world where public condemnations do not cloud the issues.
References, the Reverend, The Reality of Relationships . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on April 30, 2008 at 11:00 PM in Approval or Love, Elections, Ethics, Hillary Clinton, Looking at Life, Political Campaigns, Politics, Presidential Politics | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Calm Communicators Unite Us. Cruel Commanders Divide Us
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
Americans are at odds. As a nation, we are splintered. The parts do not function as a whole. Some wish to control and command. Others prefer to work for the common good. As we stand, we are a country divided.
The most recent Internal Revenue Service data, shows one percent of Americans received twenty-one and two-tenths [21.2] percent of all personal income. In 2005, fifty [50] percent of the people in this nation, those who have long struggled to survive, earned twelve and eight-tenths [12.8] percent of all wages and salaries. In the United States, dollars earned split the population. Wealth is not all that separates us.
Color causes schisms. Citizens live in regions of the country labeled Red, or Blue. Brownish immigrants, with or without papers, are relegated to reside in neighborhoods far from the affluent or influential, even when authentic assimilation is meant to be an option. Frequently Black Americans are housed in communities where opportunities are few. When persons of various hues intermingle with the massive pinkish population, in the United States, the people of color are alienated.
Were Americans do physically unite, they would likely remain segregated. Americans subtly separate themselves from those they loathe, and form the people they love. Few ever consider what they do to create a rift. In America, demeanors, the way in which we communicate, divides us.
In this nation, a large portion of the population is frequently aggressive, abusive, and antagonistic. Those they encounter, the not obnoxious or toxic ones, accommodate, appease, appear unaffected, or remain anxious when in the company of the people who believe the best way to appear authoritative is to dictate what needs to be done, by whom, when, where, and why.
At times, the public is able to openly observe and discuss abuse, but usually, only when it is evident in the extreme. Banner headlines may scream a need to attend to what, for the most part remains hidden. Neglect, Abuse Seen in 90, 000 Infants. However, mostly Americans demonstrate their angst in manners identified as normal. No one speaks of what is standard. Perchance, the reason is, in the States reactive behaviors, which reveal annoyance, are so common as to be customary.
Daily, in periodicals we read of what we would wish to think is not traditional, but may be. The accounts scream to us. Citizens in this country think it outrageous when they realize. In Chicago, youth violence is increasingly prevalent. Twenty-two [22] students were slain in this heartland city so far this year. Our fellow country men remark, 'This sort of thing occurs only among 'those people.' Surely, the rest of us are sane and serene. 'The average American would not strike out in such a manner.' People say, 'Weaponry is for outlaws,' or at least, mechanical arsenals are meant only to combat a political enemy. Those who reside in the United States never imagine that "they" would use a gun in anger, or lash out when with a friend. Few consider how frequently they attack those they say they are fond of.
When words are the weapon of choice, and blood is not spilled, most in this country think no harm is done. War and wounds are what we see on the battlefields, and mostly abroad. In this country, life is calm.
We read of skirmishes elsewhere daily. Americans witness what occurs in the Persian Gulf. Iraqi deaths are on the rise regardless of the Americans attempt to Surge and subvert the violence. Now, that is awful. Thankfully, this nation is not torn apart by war.
Few ponder the fact that these excessive examples illustrate and amplify what is apparent in American homes. People pounce easily and often. We cruelly criticize and intentionally drive a wedge between unions. We conquer; and in America, we destroy.
In this country, enemies are thought to be around every corner. We publicly rant and rage when we refer to people of another race or religion. Privately, many are punitive towards those who reside in our homes. When we look upon those the "commanders" consider beloved, we see differences, and ignore similarities. He is wrong; I am right. She is flawed. "I am perfect." Spite is right. Malice is might. Vindictiveness is used to undermine viciousness. In many American homes, tit for tat is the acceptable.
Those in authority, "Tsk, tsk," the ones who they would wish to weaken. Children are infrequently given information about the consequences of their choices. Calm and complete communication is too often a rarity in our abodes. Rather than work to create cohesive communities within a household, parents and their progeny dictate, and divide.
Adults learn their aggressive manners in childhood. A slight from a toddler's first teachers cuts to the core. Terse comments, a tease, or a taunt directed at a teen does not simply slide off the back of one scarred by a lifetime of verbal slashes. Adults do not deflect digs; some have merely learned how to present the appearance of being unaffected by an oral assault. In truth, "Sticks and stone may break my bones, and names hurt me more than a physical attack might." Many may relate to a common event and decide this is not my business.
As I was leaving gym one morning, I overheard a mother berating her daughter for refusing to put her face in the water during a toddlers' swim class. "You're such a little coward," she told the sobbing child -- who could not have been more than three years old. "It's the same every week. You always make your daddy and me ashamed. Sometimes I can't believe you're really my daughter."Although my stomach churned with rage on the child's behalf, I said nothing. After all, I rationalized, the mother would just tell me to mind my own business. But I had no doubt that what I had witnessed was in many ways as bad as a brutal beating. It was emotional child abuse.
"The bruises don't show on the outside, so there are no statistics on how many children are victims," says Dr. Elizabeth Watkins, chief of pediatric primary care at St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital Center in New York City. "But anyone who works with children knows that the problem is widespread."
University of Minnesota psychologist Byron Egeland, who has conducted extensive studies on parenting and early-childhood development, says the effects of emotional child abuse may be at least as devastating as those of physical abuse. Research conducted by Egeland and his colleagues suggests that emotionally abused children suffer an even greater decline in mental and psychological development as they grow older than do physically abused children.
This abated state does not necessarily translate to an academic deficit. Often times, persons who were beaten down emotionally excel in their physical and intellectual endeavors. Countless adults, who were verbally assaulted as children, believe that the cruelty and callousness they endured, has made them stronger. People in older bodies show no physical blemishes. A mature member of society is not noticeably bruised or disfigured. Most middle-aged grown-ups, those once exposed to such exploitation have learned to hide the scars. Hurt hearts do not inhibit intellectual growth; nor do the effects of verbal and emotional injuries restrict achievements. As a tot, a teen, or an individual in his or her golden years, a person harmed by words can thrive and triumph. The attitude is, "I will show them!" The thought that provokes our success is, "I will do well. Then, they will [finally] love me."
The truth is mean Mom's and dismissive Dad's do love their offspring. They simply do not know how to show it. Too often, we do as was done to us. As adults, we become the people our parents were. While we may have abhorred mother or father's behavior, it is what we know. We grow to be as those who taught us were.
At birth, we learn of what we despise most. In our parents dwelling, as tots, we become acquainted with insults, invectives, and insolence. The invisible barbs are experienced as a barrage of bullets; each pierces the flesh. Mothers mock us. Fathers jeer. Brothers and sisters, bully. In our earliest years, we begin to think of when and how we can leave the company of those who say they treasure us. In time, as children we decide the best defense is a good offense. Hence, we become equally odious, angry, and ambitious. Often adults, who were verbally abused as children, when they speak of their parents, state, "They did the best they could." Indeed, perfectionist parents do what they believe is best, and they expect their progeny to do better.
In ambitious middle-class families, one of the most common forms of emotional abuse is the denigration of any achievement that falls short of perfection, such as when a child is punished for bringing home a B instead of an A. Jeree Pawl, director of the Infant-Parent Program at San Francisco General Hospital, observes that "perfectionist" parents may display irrational expectations.
After a time, Mom and Dad no longer need to express what they expect; children know what is necessary. In fact, a young person will demand more of him or herself than either parent ever did. In our youth, we become self-critical. Our parents likely did not disparage us as well as we demean ourselves. Each day, we improve. We can deliver venom more vigorously than Mom or Dad ever did. Persons, who were the victims of verbal mistreatment in their youth, inflict the same sarcastic and sardonic on them selves as they age.
The use of hurtful declarations becomes a habit. Spoken stabs pull a person down. Those not stated aloud do us in with greater force. The voice within is perhaps more furious than the one separate from self. Our self-assessments are as a cancerous virus. Merciless messages kill. Yet, no one notices the cause or effects of the illness. Too many Americans share the symptoms; hence, the pain is standard.
Parental verbal abuse may wound children's psyches so deeply that the effects remain apparent in young adulthood. Such abuse may wreak psychological havoc greater than that caused by physical abuse.With an M.B.A. degree under her belt, 24-year-old "Jaime" (not her real name) should have glowing job prospects in Chicago. But she harbors memories that erode her self-confidence and make her bristle with anger—memories of her father shouting at her, during drunken rages, that she was ugly and of little value.
Indeed, verbal abuse during childhood can scar people deeply, a new study suggests. It was headed by Martin Teicher, M.D., Ph.D., director of the Developmental Biopsychiatry Research Program at McLean Hospital, which is affiliated with Harvard Medical School. Results were published in the June American Journal of Psychiatry.Although the injurious effects of child physical and sexual abuse have been the subject of considerable inquiry, not much attention has been paid to the possibly noxious effects of verbal abuse on children.
People attend to what they see. The battered hearts, the wounded souls are not visible to the eye; although the effects of these are apparent if we wish to see them. Researchers studied and discovered what lies just beneath the surface.
People who were verbally abused had 1.6 times as many symptoms of depression and anxiety as those who had not been verbally abused and were twice as likely to have suffered a mood or anxiety disorder over their lifetime, according to psychology Professor Natalie Sachs-Ericsson, the study's lead author."We must try to educate parents about the long-term effects of verbal abuse on their children," Sachs-Ericsson said. "The old saying about sticks and stones was wrong. Names will forever hurt you."
Moms and Dads wield words as weapons daily. An innocent and sweet child may be saddened by what is said to them. Frequently, a lad or a lass, who has come to expect the worse is fretful, frightened, or apprehensive when near those who vocally attack. After a time, a child turned teen, may appear angry, as an adult resigned, acquiescent when with Mom or Dad. Still, the pain seeps out. It spills onto all the injured individual encounters.
The cycle starts subtly. It is all so subterranean. How often is a child told, "You need to take responsibility"? Yet, how frequently does neither guardian seems to accept that they play a part in what occurred in their own lives. After a night on the town, too much food, and an abundance of alcoholic beverages, Dad may bellow, "Stay out of my way today if you know what's good for you." Then, as if to inform his brood, father would offer, "I'm in a bad mood." Daddy does not wish to be liable for his own limitations. Thus, if he was under duress, or hassled, surely, someone else must be to blame.
It is a "me against the world" mentality. Those who command and seek control, the power they did not feel they had in their youth, see themselves as separate from the others. Hence, the great divide.
Mom may be no different from Dad. This sweet, soft-spoken woman, a mother committed to her children often commented, "My life would have been perfect if it were not for you." She would then say, "Get out of my sight; you are a bad boy, a hateful, ungrateful girl." Then, moments later, Mommy would say how much she loved you, or I. Life and love, as a child, and later as an adult can be caustic, chaotic, and troublesome, even if we emerge confidently. Either parent can do the damage. Both can build the barriers that teach one of the brood to be boldly brazen.
Weeks ago, Americans watched an esteemed achiever, a Presidential aspirant, vent wrathful words. The statements made echoed in every American household. On television and radio airwaves we heard, "Shame on you. “It is time you (act in a manner) consistent with your messages in public. That is what I expect from you. (L)et's have a debate about your tactics and your behavior . . ." Only days prior, we, as a nation, were moved by the magnanimous words, "(Y)ou know, no matter what happens in this contest -- and I am honored, I am honored to be here with [the same person who was slammed two days later.] I am absolutely honored." Hours before the homage was delivered in a face-to-face encounter, the self-proclaimed "fighter" raged, she was ready. The person she humiliated after offering a sincere homage was not. Then, in a fit of anger, this eloquent and accomplished adult exclaimed to her audience, "Let's get real."
On an occasion or two, the New York Senator states if she and her adversary worked as one, all dreams would come true. Quickly, Hillary Rodham Clinton reminds us that the same individual who she thinks praiseworthy is incompetent. He cannot command; nor is he qualified. The waling wounded Clinton claims the man who might steal her win is but a "child." She demeans his experience while she exaggerates her own. In a breath, the scared child, now a grown Senator, cries out. The former First Lady, who continues to carry the weight of a world built on pain within her, tells us the man who angers her is eloquent, admirable, and yet, inadequate.
One day this wise woman is passive or polite; then in the next moment she is aggressive and antagonistic. As Hillary Clinton speaks of Uniting the States, creating a cohesive Democratic Party, she works to divide these entities. She loves her country, her challenger, and her community; yet . . .
The push-pull of these love-hate relationships may remind us of what too many of us as children and adults experience in our family homes. In the "United" States, division, derision, declarations that divide a union are natural. Most accept the conventions that have been familiar throughout their lives. Few are disturbed by the divisiveness a Presidential candidate puts forth. Perchance, the American people relate. Might we consider the climate that was the candidate's childhood, her history, and the truth that fashioned her family?
The couple fought. In 1926, Dorothy's father filed for divorce, claiming that his wife had hit him in the face and scratched him on three separate occasions, according to Cook County records. In a March 1927 court hearing, Della Howell's own sister accused her of abusing her husband and abandoning her two daughters."She had a violent temper and flew at him in a rage, and would fight him," testified the sister, Frances Czeslawski.
Della Howell did not show up to contest the divorce -- she could not be found by subpoena servers. Dorothy's father was given custody. But, either unwilling or unable to take care of his daughters, he put them on the train to California, where his parents, Edwin Howell Sr. and Emma Howell, had moved a few years previously. . . .
The grandparents were ill-prepared to raise Dorothy and her sister, Isabelle.
Edwin Howell Sr. had emigrated from Wales. He worked as a machinist in an auto plant and as a laborer for the Alhambra street department, according to Alhambra city directories from the time. He mostly left the girls' care to his wife.
Emma Howell was a strict woman who wore black Victorian dresses and discouraged visitors and parties. Once, discovering that Dorothy had gone trick-or-treating on Halloween, she ordered her confined to her room for a year except for school.
"Her grandmother was a severe and arbitrary disciplinarian who berated her constantly, and her grandfather all but ignored her," Clinton wrote. . .
"Once I asked my mother why she went back to Chicago," Clinton wrote in "Living History." The answer? "'I'd hoped so hard that my mother would love me that I had to take the chance and find out,' she told me. 'When she didn't, I had nowhere else to go.'
Too many of us can recall a time when we wanted to be appreciated, admired, accepted by those who brought us into the world, or taught us to be the best we could be. Even when those we care for harm us, we still crave their adoration. A child who feels less than cherished will try harder. Humans will do whatever they believe they must do in hopes that someday, they will be treasured by their first teachers, the people they call family.
Hillary was the best student among her siblings, the one who took her parents' lessons most seriously. . .Hugh Rodham, unlike many other fathers of his era, raised his daughter to be ambitious. When she brought home straight A's, Rodham would say, "Well, Hillary, that must be an easy school you go to," she [Presidential hopeful, Hillary Clinton] wrote. . .
Hugh Rodham took thrift to even greater heights than many survivors of the Depression. If Hillary, Hugh Jr., or Tony left the cap off the toothpaste, he would toss it out the window and send the child to search for it. An allowance was out of the question. "I feed you, don't I?" she remembers him saying.
Clinton speaks of her father admiringly, but . . . no one disputes his gruffness. "He was character building, like our winters in Chicago," Ebeling, Clinton's best friend, said. . . .
He was "highly opinionated, to put it mildly," [Hillary] Clinton wrote. "We all accommodated his pronouncements . . .
Hilary is as many warriors in society are. She expects the electorate to tolerate her brusque, sometimes demeaning, statements, just as she accepted much of what her father said. If the people wish to argue with the aspirant, as occasionally she did with her dear Dad, Clinton thinks that is fine. After all, she is a fighter. She knows how to win. Just as Hugh Rodham did when he felt his children were uncontrollable, the dictatorial, decidedly aggressive decider known as Dad escalated the argument. "You are with me or against me" is a common refrain among those who command cruelly.
Many progeny adapt to parents who can be punitive. After a time, offspring learn, the boundaries that divide them are best when they remain as invisible, just as the wounds on the heart are. Children convince themselves, they are strong. They are in control. As long as they go along to get along all will be well, and it will be, until the next emotional upheaval. Even then, those who scream and demean will be fine, for what they experience is familiar.
I offer a personal anecdote, one that helped me to understand the divide that exists among us in America. There are the "fighters" well-trained to battle, and the peacemakers, those who talk in tones that are more tranquil.
I realized this only in recent years. A time ago, after I had lived on this glorious green Earth for more than three decades I thought I understood people. I experienced much in my lifetime. As a child, I settled in the suburbs, the city, and the country. In my earliest years may family had all the fineries. We were exceptionally wealthy. Then, there was the divorce. My Mommy, new Daddy a sister, and I were extremely poor when I was in Elementary School. Eventually we evolved into Middle Class. I felt as though we were average.
At seventeen years of age, I declared my independence. I left home, lived on my own, and struggled to earn enough money to survive. I inhabited neighborhoods not thought to be safe. My knowledge of life and it's various styles, I believed was expansive.
Then, it occurred. I met a man. Immediately, I knew I loved him. I had never been easily impressed. Romantic relationships were not part of my repertoire. This person, I perceived as beyond special. I admired him, and I intensely appreciated him. This gentleman was brilliant. He was very successful. He smiled ever so warmly. Until . . . suddenly, he yelled. The wrath was intended for me. As Gary excitedly expressed his disgust, his face was flush. His eyes and veins were bulging. This cherished chap was agitated, accusatory, and exceptionally anxious. To this day, I know not why. I have asked. Yet, an explanation was not forthcoming.
As Gary ranted and raged, I stood frozen, as a deer in headlights. I was stunned. In my whole life, no one had ever yelled at me, or so I thought, previous to that day. There was one other occasion.
That narrative aside, as Gary and I stood face to face, as he screamed and shrieked, he articulated the assertion, "You are having a tantrum." I marveled. I am a calm person. As a child, I was just as serene. In my entire life, I did not recall being explosive. As I observed Gary and listened to his words, I was uncertain which aspect of this encounter was more amazing to me, his conduct, or his contention. After, the damn or dam broke, he seemed free of his agitation. I was anxious, although still silent. I knew not what to say or do. What had I witnessed? What did it mean? How did I feel about it?
In time, I did learn as Hillary Clinton, and others whose hearts are hurt by words, do. I could choose to tolerate the brusque and debasing language. I could choose to appease, to please, or to patronize. However, I also understood no matter what I decided to do, there would be consequences. There would always be a chasm between Gary and I. I would never fully feel comfortable, for I did not know what might bring on another brutal belch of bitterness.
I walked on eggshells, and he, with all his hollering, hoped to secure the impression that he walked on water. I came to discover that Gary had been challenged all his life. His parents were the purveyors of agenda after agenda. As a child he had felt as he now teaches others to feel, as though he was and is less than. Gary was told too often, he was not good enough, smart enough; he was wrong. If Gary received an excellent evaluation in class, he too was meet with the remark similar to the ones the New York Senator heard in her youth. "Well, that subject is just too simple." "An "A" grade is not good enough."
Dissect a heart. Dismember a sweet spirit. It is the American way, divide and conquer. In a competitive society, where cruelty is common, most everyone will suffer, so that the few spoiled souls can feel, even if only for a moment, that they have succeeded. Sadly, their triumph is our demise.
Gary, Hillary, and too many we encounter have become so familiar with belligerent behaviors they no longer think there are other ways to work with people.
I was raised in a family where no one yells. To say I am jarred by loud aggressive rants is to understate what I feel. For a time, I team-taught with an instructor deemed superior. This person won District-wide awards. I understood why when I assessed the curriculum this teacher originated. Yet, this individual chastised students vociferously and with ample abandon. When in a rage, this educator's voice traveled throughout the building. I literally jumped in fright on more than one occasion.
Even without the volume, this teacher's words could cut like a knife. When the venom was directed at me, I froze. I am extremely sensitive to the lexis. The phrases this instructor used were not part of my reality. Our philosophies on life were disparate. Yet, I truly enjoyed this individual when the conversation was amiable. When jovial, the professor was a delight. Indeed, this person often was happy and genuinely fun.
When a scream was heard through the walls, students and I would react. Some smiled. A few laughed nervously. Others and I were startled. We cringed. When the world was again calm, quietly, throughout the room, discussions emerged. The demeanor of this academic was the topic. Talk of the teacher was approached tenderly. As I listened, I learned. If a person grows up in a home where one particular approach to life is normal, they learn to accept and appreciate that manner of expression. People who were taught to expect verbal lashings, as Hillary Clinton noted, learn to accommodate or accept.
If cruel criticisms were common in a home; howls were considered to be a sign, someone cares, painful as that might be. Those never exposed to love that did not hurt could not imagine the possibility. Tis a sad state in this union, when those we treasure most are the ones we whip to a pulp with words. A country divided cannot stand.
Perchance it is time to truly discuss what divides America. Dollars and legal documents are not divisive. Paper does not have the power to pull us apart. Race cannot physically separate us. In nature, every hue is a significant part of the whole. Religion does not cause a rift between neighbors. A philosophy can only teach us. Principles do not reach into our souls and cause us to slice and dice. It is we who control the chaos that drives a wedge between our brethren and we.
Might Americans come together at home and on every avenue? From Wall Street to Main Street let us speak kindly to each other. Let us teach the children well.
Perhaps, it is time to tell those you share a life with that you revere them without reservations. If we choose to use words that consistently show we care for those we love, perhaps, peace will have a chance. If our words were to mirror our stated beliefs, possibly, money would have no power, color could do no harm, and religious principles would be evident in our every expression. Please, imagine and work to give birth to what for too long was thought impossible. Let us live in an America, united in more than name only.
Sources, Scars, Screams in a divided society . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on April 4, 2008 at 08:00 AM in Abuse, Aggression, Americana, Approval or Love, Art of Loving, Have or Be, Children, Compassion, Conflict, Complex, Dreams Live and Die , Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Empathy and Evolution, Family, Functioning, Fables | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Homage to Lawrence King. Teach Tolerance To Adults and Children
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
It was February 14, 2008, Valentine's Day. Love was in the air. However, the expressions of appreciation offered were mournful. Doctors informed the family and his friends, Lawrence King, 15, was removed from life support. Two days earlier, young Larry was in the computer lab at E. O. Green Junior High in Oxnard, California. He sat with 24 other students when Brandon McInerney walked into the room with a gun. The armed classmate, fourteen-years of age, approached Lawrence with intent. Brandon aimed his weapon, pulled the trigger, and shot Lawrence in the head. Without hesitation, the shooter ran from the building. Circumstances led observers and police officers to conclude the act was intentional, calculated, and a conscious choice. Brandon committed what is commonly defined as a "hate crime."
Students were locked in classrooms. Grief and disbelief filled the air. Adults tried to calm the children. Teens tried to cope. Peers were befuddled. Pupils sought information and shared what they knew. After the event, fingers flew across cellular telephone keypads. Text messages were sent and received from schoolroom to schoolroom. The words were, "Brandon McInerney did the deed." 'Not Brandon McInerney, No way.'
"Brandon wouldn't do this," eighth-grader Jessica Lee remembers thinking. "He's a good kid. It can't be Brandon."But some at the Oxnard junior high school had seen Larry, 15, teased by students in the weeks before the shooting for being gay and wearing high-heeled boots and makeup. Some witnessed confrontations between Larry and Brandon, with Larry teasing Brandon and saying he liked him.
Family members and friends described Larry as a sweet, artistic boy who loved to sing and didn't understand why people reacted negatively to him.
Brandon, 14, a tall, athletic eighth-grader, was described by friends and acquaintances as a mellow, focused kid, but one who wouldn't back down in a confrontation.
Brandon had learned his lessons well. He learned to feel deeply. Indifference was not part of his repertoire, intolerance was. Perhaps from within the womb, he began his education. Those who in an act of love came together to give birth to Brandon, apparently knew nothing more than volatile loathing. Perchance, Brandon's mother, Kendra and his father, William were raised to love or hate, but not tolerate.
We can be certain that baby Brandon did as all infants do after birth, he absorbed all the messages that surrounded him. . Education is not an isolated entity. Knowledge is not gained only in a classroom. Our first school is called home. Structured lessons may inform us; however, these are never internalized as deeply as the wisdom we acquire at the knees of our Mom and Dad. Parents have a profound influence on a child. Those we love most have the power to teach us more. Definitely, the occurrence taught Brandon what to do when he felt troubled.
Kendra McInerney, Brandon's mother, claimed a night of partying in 1993 ended in a fight and William shooting her in the elbow, breaking it in several places, according to court records. Still, they married later that year, and Brandon was born in January 1994.The fighting didn't stop, and sometimes it was witnessed by Brandon and his two older half-brothers, according to court records. In 2000, William pleaded no contest to a domestic battery charge against Kendra. He was sentenced to 10 days in jail and ordered to attend domestic violence classes. The couple separated in August 2000.
Love, or familiarity can breed contempt. Even when someone no longer shares a physical space with the person that causes him or her distress that individual remains intimately connected in the heart. Parting is not a sweet sorrow. Indeed, it is often the source of more pain. Indifference is rarely evident once an emotional bond is formed.
For Kendra and William McInerney, separation did nothing to alleviate the angst they felt or expressed. , Nor, did living apart make life more livable for the children. Drinking, drugs, and violence were daily transgressions in Brandon's life. The stories are stark. Yet, fortunately, it appeared Brandon survived. Indeed, some would say he thrived.
Through all the family turmoil, Brandon got involved in activities outside the home, including martial arts and lifeguard training. He seemed to want something more than just the status quo of Silver Strand, Crave said."He didn't want to be involved in that whole thing," Crave said, gesturing at friends drinking a few beers nearby after getting off work.
Brandon joined the Young Marines — the Marine Corps' equivalent of a JROTC program — several years ago and became a leader in the group, which disbanded last summer.
"Brandon was a young man that I would never have figured something like this would happen to," said Mel Otte, his commanding officer.
Otte said he never witnessed Brandon showing a short temper and that he would have been kicked out of the group if he had bullied other kids.
"He was an outstanding young man," Otte said. "What happened since I left, I have no idea."
What occurred did not take place in a instant. The image of restraint did not transcend an earlier reality. Change did not come on in a flash. Often calm is a facade for the chaos that lay beneath the surface of a boy [girl, woman, or man] who battles emotional upheavals. What was real for Brandon is true for each of us. We learn and live what we believe is customary.
Even those of us who "know better," or are exposed to impressive amounts of information, organized to challenge unhealthy conventions, do as we have seen done, or was done to us. Some escape the affects of sensory overload for a time. Few abandon family traditions until long they have repeatedly fallen from grace. Only an individual forced to face his or her "demons" day in and day out thinks to learn new habits.
We all love easily. We loathe with less effort. What we do not do well is authentically accept others. Few beings bother to have compassion, to learn from those who look, think, feel, or act differently. Without empathy, everyone is a possible enemy.
Hate, or fear, of what we do not understand, motivates many a mind to react aggressively. Apprehension and anxiety are not logical. None of our emotions are. Nevertheless, all too often humans, prideful of an intellectual capacity, are galvanized by feelings. We are threatened by what we feel terrorizes us.
For Brandon it was a boy who thought him fine. For adults it may be a secret admirer, or an individual who has authority over us. The neighbor who was unkind could seem a danger. Mature men or women may believe the man in the automobile in front of them is a menace. Even a small girl, on the corner, with her fingers out-stretched in a sign of peace could seem a hazard if our habit is to adopt an angry stance when we feel annoyed.
People are familiar with what deeply disturbs them. They know all too well how to demonstrate love and hate. Indifference is doable, as long as an n individual does not see or hear those outside their sphere. Benevolence, perhaps that is the reaction, the action we do not learn from birth.
We all crave a connection. Humans have needs. Individuals long to be included, intimately involved; we wish to feel as though we have the right and power to make decisions for ourselves. Men, women, and children are not indifferent. Hence the dilemma.
When it seems we are unable to manage our world, humans freak. Each of us responds differently, understandably. Intellectually, people may recognize they cannot control the universe. However, when stressed, we discover the habits we hold dear remain intact. Our reactions are not innate, just well studied. Brandon McInerney was not a bad boy. He is a human being. He reacted as he had learned to do. Barely fourteen years of age, Brandon expressed his deep disdain for a situation and someone he could not control.
Chaos abounds. Nonetheless, we try. Too often, we fail. A senseless murder, and what assassination is not absurd, illustrates what occurs when someone does not feel fulfilled and knows not what to do. People in physical or psychological pain lash out in the ways they know how.
Brandon McInerney was baffled, no terrified, by the actions of another boy. Lawrence did not cause bodily harm to his peer. He did no verbal damage, at least not intentionally. Paradoxically, when Larry spoke of Brandon, he articulated his sincere admiration. That is what bothered the young boy Brandon. Love, especially when expressed unconventionally, caused Brandon's heart and mind to break. The young lad, now passed, Larry, did not bully Brandon or his buddies. Indeed, the other boys hassled Lawrence prior to his final day.
In recent weeks, the victim, Lawrence King, 15, had said publicly that he was gay, classmates said, enduring harassment from a group of schoolmates, including the 14-year-old boy charged in his death.
McInerney, now in custody, refuses to speak of what motivated him. His lawyer offers the fourteen year old is too young to fully understand his actions. Perhaps all people are too immature to rationalize the unreasonable, revulsion, repulsion, and feelings of repugnance.
What is hate? Certainly, it is an emotion, as inexplicable as fondness. Each can be voiced to the extreme. Neither is inconsequential. Perhaps, when humans feel adoration or antipathy they lose all perspective. The chemistry we feel when we connect intensely is uncontrollable. If only people could capture the energy and place it in a bottle before they pop.
Assemblyman Mike Eng (Democrat, Monterey Park), chairman of the Assembly Select Committee on Hate Crimes, said we would, with a bit of money directed towards teaching diversity, be able to stop crimes against people based on race, religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation.
"My bill is focusing on [hate crime] prevention," Eng said after a news conference at his El Monte district office. "We already have bills on the books about proper punishment; mine will focus on dealing with hatred in a school setting."Eng hopes to create a pilot program by allocating up to $150,000 to establish a diversity and sensitivity curriculum at a few school districts. The pilot program would serve as a model to be used to develop lesson plans statewide.
Others in the community believe the proposed program only serves to comfort parents and Principals, adults, and not adolescents. Countless argue that similar programs such as D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education), D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education), are ineffective. These simplistic strategies always were nothing more than slogans used to appease anxious adults. Although these agendas survive, they do not strengthen the will or the character of the young persons they serve. At times, instruction is as indifference. If you do not know what to do, or say about an open wound, look for an easy answer. Apply salve, and walk away. Most of us truly believe the sore will eventually heal by itself.
Here's a news flash: "Just Say No" is not an effective anti-drug message. And neither are Barney-style self-esteem mantras . . .DARE, which is taught by friendly policemen in 75 percent of the nation's school districts, has been plagued by image problems from the beginning, when it first latched on to Nancy Reagan's relentlessly sunny and perversely simplistic "Just say No" campaign. The program's goals include teaching kids creative ways to say "no" to drugs, while simultaneously bolstering their self-esteem (which DARE founders insist is related to lower rates of drug use). . . .
According to an article published in the August 1999 issue of the Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, DARE not only did not affect teenagers' rate of experimentation with drugs, but may also have actually lowered their self-esteem. . . .
The findings were grim: 20-year-olds who'd had DARE classes were no less likely to have smoked marijuana or cigarettes, drunk alcohol, used "illicit" drugs like cocaine or heroin, or caved in to peer pressure than kids who'd never been exposed to DARE. But that wasn't all. "Surprisingly," the article states, "DARE status in the sixth grade was negatively related to self-esteem at age 20, indicating that individuals who were exposed to DARE in the sixth grade had lower levels of self-esteem 10 years later." Another study, performed at the University of Illinois, suggests some high school seniors who'd been in DARE classes were more likely to use drugs than their non-DARE peers.
Still, Americans, intent on straightforward solutions, quick fixes, and immediate gratification, forget that life is not so simple. The family teaches children from birth. The lessons we learn in our youngest years are internalized deeply. In infancy, each day we encounter our mother, father, or guardian, the people we need most, and most want to love us. As toddlers, we are intimately involved with our caregivers, even if they do not seem to care for us. When we are children, the only choice that we have, the only option that gives us a sense of control, is to cling to those who help us survive. Moms and Dads are our first and best, teachers, if only because they are there in whatever capacity.
However, sadly, for some of us, such as Brandon McInerney our mentors did not teach us well. Schools try to suffice. Teachers with ten, twenty forty to a class try to create a relationship with each student. As educators teach Math, Science, Reading, and English, they work to provide a sense of self-worth to each and every young scholar. For a few hours, five days a week, a troubled youngster can call his or her classroom home.
For young people such as Larry, school may have been a place to blossom, somewhere where he felt safe, or for both the boys an educational institution may have been the place where lessons begun at birth were reinforced. Each was teased, bullied, and verbally battered. Each had friends. However, they may not have felt they achieved an authentic intimate connection with anyone. Even acquaintances can say . . .
“He had a character that was bubbly,” Marissa said. “We would just laugh together. He would smile, then I would smile, and then we couldn’t stop.”
An ally in life does more than smile or laugh. Larry King may have felt he had few real supporters, in a school he attended for only months. How close can two people be when they see each other only for hours and then each returns to their own abode. One may return to the place they consider "Home Sweet Home," the other may reside in an institution, far from those who are "supposed" to love him.
For several months before to the shooting, Larry had been living at Casa Pacifica, a residential center for troubled youths in Camarillo.
Lawrence's parents are alive and well, as are his four siblings, a younger brother, two older brothers, and an older sister. While the family spoke lovingly of the dearly departed, they dared not speak of why the lad no longer lived with them. Many children today are placed in treatment agencies. The numbers are staggering. The reasons are astounding. Yet, when people know not how to love well, and are not indifferent, they do what they may hate to do.
The number of children placed in residential treatment centers (or RTCs) (1) is growing exponentially.(2) These modern-day orphanages now house more than 50,000 children nationwide.(3) Children are packed off to RTCs, often sent by officials they have never met, who have probably never spoken to their parents, teachers or social workers.(4) Once placed, these kids may have no meaningful contact with their families or friends for up to two years.(5) And, despite many documented cases of neglect and physical and sexual abuse, monitoring is inadequate to ensure that children are safe, healthy and receiving proper services in RTCs.(6) By funneling children with mental illnesses into the RTC system, states fail—at enormous cost—to provide more effective community-based mental health services.(7)RTC placements are often inappropriate.
RTCs are among the most restrictive mental health services and, as such, should be reserved for children whose dangerous behavior cannot be controlled except in a secure setting.(8) Too often, however, child-serving bureaucracies hastily place children in RTCs because they have not made more appropriate community-based services available.(9) Parents who are desperate to meet their kids’ needs often turn to RTCs because they lack viable alternatives.(10)To make placement decisions, families in crisis and overburdened social workers rely on the institutions’ glossy flyers and professional websites with testimonials of saved children.(11) But all RTCs are not alike.(12) Local, state and national exposés and litigation “regarding the quality of care in residential treatment centers have shown that some programs promise high-quality treatment but deliver low-quality custodial care.”(13) As a result, parents and state officials play a dangerous game of Russian roulette as they decide where to place children, because little public information is available about the RTCs, which are under-regulated and under-supervised.
Yet, parents and community services agencies take those who are perhaps most vulnerable, our young and troubled teens, and place them in Residential Treatment Centers not able to provide minimal care. When we, as a culture consider other options, and other means for childcare, we cannot but think of poor Brandon and how he suffered at the hands of his mother and father. We are reminded that Brandon, the tormented shooter, lived in a location he called home. We might wonder; which situation was better, worse, or can we even compare the traumas each child in this story suffered.
Brandon and Larry are not anomalies. They are not alone. Children throughout our country are taught to express love in a violent manner. The little ones watch adults they admire model cruelty. The young are trained to demonstrate their contempt similarly. Sadistic reactive behaviors rule in our society. Listen to people ruthlessly scream in the marketplace. Consider the abundance of "hate crimes" in America. Turn on the television. Tune into the radio. Read the "literature." Hostile conduct is commended and condoned.
For too many of our offspring, aggression in their daily existence is the norm. They hear it in their homes; see their parent bludgeon each other. As toddlers, tots, children, or teens our youth feel the bruises on their back, and remember the bones broken by those they love most. Ponder the statistics.
During FFY 2005, an estimated 899,000 children in the 50 States, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico were determined to be victims of abuse or neglect.
- Children in the age group of birth to 3 years had the highest rate of victimization at 16.5 per 1,000 children of the same age group in the national population;
- More than one-half of the victims were 7 years old or younger (54.5%)
- More than one-half of the child victims were girls (50.7%) and 47.3 percent were boys; and
- Approximately one-half of all victims were White (49.7%); one-quarter (23.1%) were African-American; and 17.4 percent were Hispanic.
Gender preference did not determine maltreatment when infants and the very young among were involved. Specific biases are learned as we "mature." While many wish to focus on Larry's identification with the gay community as reason for such a horrific reaction, the cause for Brandon's response goes far deeper. Scorn is rarely selective. Disparagement is an equal opportunity employer.
Abusive behaviors are rooted in our personal history. We cannot dismiss the fact that as a society, our past performances towards those we disdain are deplorable. As a culture, emotional beings that we are, we embrace love and hate, and ignore indifference.
We must ask ourselves, what are we doing to our offspring from the day they enter this world, and why. Answers offered after the fact, solutions that do not address the broader question will not stop the violence we see in schools. Nor will it quash the mayhem or reduce the murders we see on our streets. Hate crimes are born at home. Mothers and fathers motivate much that occurs. Moms and Dads often do what was done to them.
Children 'learn violence from parents'Children who witness domestic violence are at an increased risk of having abusive relationships as adults, researchers have found.
Being abused as a child and having behavioural problems also increases the risk of being violent as adults. Receiving excessive punishment is another risk factor. US researchers from Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons and the New York State Psychiatric Institute followed 540 children for 20 years from 1975 . . .
If a pattern of violent behaviour towards a partner has been established, it is difficult to change say the researchers. . . .
If a child was hit by their parents, they were much more likely to see violence as a way of resolving problems as adults, the researchers found.
But seeing violence perpetuated between parents was found the be the greatest risk factor for being the victim of a violent partner as an adult.
Both men and women who witnessed domestic violence were likely to grow up to abuse their partners . . .
"This acceptance of coercive, power-based norms as ways of regulating conflict may have direct implications for young adults' means of conflict resolution with partners, independent of a disruptive behaviour disorder."
For too many of our young persons a forceful hand, a furious face, and a vicious voice are identified with those they are most fond of. Children are confused. In too many lives, love does not come easily. Little ones do not know what authentic affection looks like. As "mature" beings, some people seek the wisdom they did not acquire in their family homes. They wish to learn of what could not have been fully integrated in a school curriculum. Grown-up persons harmed by habits that debilitate a mind, body, heart, and soul know to their core, habits die hard. Adult classes meant to teach as Assemblyman Eng proposed exist at West Virginia University an older person can study How To Communicate Love. Learners are instructed, "Love comes from within." Students are advised to appreciate themselves.
Learning to love yourself will help create your personal appearance of love. If you do not know how to love yourself, you will not be able to love others. Loving yourself also means that you have a loving attitude in your actions and responses toward others; that you look for opportunities to help rather than be helped; that you communicate a loving appreciation of others with “thank you” and “please” as part of your vocabulary; that you forgive others and do not hold a grudge; and that you help people in need without thought of reward or recognition.
However, ultimately pupils are reminded of what Lawrence and Brandon have helped us realize.
How we communicate love to others is learned; we are not born with the ability to communicate love.
Nor are we born with the ability to hate. Each of us, every man, woman, and child is well-trained. If we are to truly end the violence that exists in schools, we must eliminate the hostility in our homes. Assemblyman Eng, perhaps a program in parenting, one instituted in every community throughout the globe might be more effective than any instruction in a school. If we are to truly teach forbearance to our progeny we must acknowledge parents, adults in every avenue are our life teachers. Let us not speak of how best to teach the children tolerance. We, their elders must learn how to love first. Perhaps, if the elders begin to appreciate each other without brutality, next Valentine's Day Cupid will not shoot arrow. He will bestow gentle kisses on each of us.
Sources, Societal Scars, Scabs . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on February 28, 2008 at 11:00 AM in "Take me as I am!", Abuse, Adult Influence on Children, Aggression, Approval or Love, Communities and Communication , Compassion, Conflict, Complex, Emotional Intelligence, Family, Functioning, Fables, Fear, Human Nature, Humans, Self-Destructive, Life, A Forward Motion, Light. Darkness., Looking at Life, Nature or Nurture, Quality of Life, School Days, School Shootings, School Violence, Society, Teach The Children, Tributes, Verbal Combat, Violence, When Will I Be Right? | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
School Shootings; Standards Kill Students and Society
The Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development (ASCD). The Whole Child
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
School shootings are in the news. Throughout America, adults express concern. Are the children safe when in a classroom. Repeated rounds of ammunition affirm, they are not. Some say times have changed. There seems to be a consensus,; we must secure our campuses, Solutions are standard. Society must protect the young. Few think it possible to prevent another occurrence or attack. Let us examine the whole situation, the whole of our children. Perchance, the problem is not as it appears.
People presumed all was well or hoped it was. Individuals were reassured. It was quiet. However, the silence was broken thrice in recent days. Correction; a forth shooter sprang out before people could take a breath. Three dead in Louisiana campus shooting. Student Shot During Gym at Tennessee School. Student Wounded in Southern California Junior High. Northern Illinois University [NIU] Shootings Stir Sense of Helplessness. Theories abound. Why are school shooting so prevalent?
Some say class size is the cause. As a society, we see the effect of too many students served by too few teachers. No single educator can connect well with each of the tens or hundreds of student they are expected to serve. Experts argue, children are healthier when placed in smaller classes. Judith Kafka, an Assistant Professor of Educational Policy, History, and Leadership at Baruch College, in New York City, writes It’s Guns, Not School Size. Perchance it is neither, either, each, and much more.
Americans recognize there is much to consider. Legislators propose, school employees carry concealed weapons. Some instructors already do.
High school English teacher Shirley Katz insists she needs to take her pistol with her to work because she fears her ex-husband could show up and try to harm her. She's also worried about a Columbine-style attack.
Katz is not alone. Another instructor chose to protect herself regardless of District policies. In a Washington Post editorial the statement is made . . . There are no reliable figures, but it's a safe guess that in many or most of these instances, the guns were owned by the students' parents." This may not always be so. Other pupils' Mom's or Dads may own an arsenal, or a young person may have discovered other connections. Cyberspace can be good source for guns. We cannot be certain. What we do know is, guns kill, and weaponry is easily and infinitely available.
Homicide is the second leading cause of death on the job for workers in the United States after motor vehicle crashes (1). Every week, on average, 20 workers are killed, and 18,000 are assaulted (2). It is only in the last decade, however, that violence against workers has become widely recognized as an occupational health problem.
In a discussion on the topic, of guns in the workplace, Researcher and Co-author of the University of North Carolina Study, Homicide on the Job: Workplace and Community Determinants, Doctor Dana Loomis offered . . .
"[T]here was a nearly seven-fold increase in the risk of a worker being killed in workplaces that allowed guns and other weapons." . . ."We don’t know employers’ reasons for allowing workers to have guns on the job, but the belief that firearms offer protection against crime is obviously a possible motive." . . .
"However, our data suggest that, like residents of households with guns, who are more likely to be victims of homicide, workers in places where the employer allows guns have a greater chance of being killed at work."
As a nation, it is important to realize we are part of a global community. Worldwide guns kill one-thousand people each day. An International Action Network on Small Arms report states, "640 million guns are in circulation across the world and there are enough weapons to equip one in every 10 people." So, while we can argue whether students have access or not, perhaps the more important question is why a child might pick up a revolver. What motivates or frustrates a little one or a young adult to take aim and shoot.
While conjecture continues, authentic answers have been few. Solutions were tried; none were true. In classrooms throughout America, teachers remain on guard. Educators await the moment when a crash will be heard within the classroom. Instructors trust the sound would be more than a book slammed on a desk. Instructors know that a bang in the hallways or a blast from the science lab may not be an innocent incident. Pupils understand this as well. While all may appear playful, pupils seem to be joyful and learning, the troubled few may actually be the majority of the student population. It is difficult to discern who might break first, last, or not at all.
Throughout the nation, educators engage each scholar, or attempt to, within the constraints of the curriculum. Tim, an awkward adolescent, quivered, quaked, grunted, groaned when in the classroom. This active lad moaned, lashed out, and laughed when he worked with his teachers. Tim shook with joy, stumbled clumsily, stood straight, and then flopped to the floor. The strange boy could focus; however, rarely on a prescribed lesson. Educators labeled Tim a failure. Even in "special" sessions, this energetic, enthusiastic young man seemed unable to learn. There was a time when Tim was occupied and eager; however, that passed to quickly.
Elsewhere, an instructor is aware of the student in the front row. This little lass is painfully shy. Emma rarely participates in class. She is plainly submissive. On reflection, the instructor, friends, and family realized they never considered how distressed the girl was. No one thought she would cut herself. Now, they wonder why.
Asa was sometimes rowdy, understandably so. He was starved for love and attention. No matter how or what he tried, he did not receive kindness, only admonishments. Soon Asa settled for scorn. If people showed contempt for him, well, at least they knew he was alive. The fourteen-year old just wanted to be acknowledged. Asa hurt inside. The pain poured out. "He did seem angry. He was always angry in the face but he had no reason." Finally, the teen could hold his hurt no longer. He cried out, "I cannot stand to live this way." Then, he ended it all.
"I thought they were joking. I never took it seriously," she said. The young lads were fascinated by the infamous. A massacre might appeal to those that crave retribution, reprisal, punishment, or some sort of popularity. This form of expression might only be as a shout. We cannot be certain. Perchance, we could inquire. The boys, Bradley, William, and Shawn, might tell us what they feel and why. However, would busy parents, policy wonks, educators and Administrators all of whom are impressed by numbers, choose to listen if they ever dared to ask?
There are times when the opportunity to speak is gone forever. A young boy or girl is taken from us too soon. Countless roam the streets for without a quality education there is little left to do. A few are institutionalized; others are medicated, imprisoned by the despair that overwhelms their minds. Some rather die than endure the pain they feel here on Earth. Sadly, we can no longer invite the girls over for tea. The time to engage with a lovely lad or two will not come again. Heads hang low as neighbors contemplate the loss of another young life to drugs, prescribed and preferred, drink, or death.
Words of woe pass between the people that knew him or her. "She was barely a woman." "He had not yet reached the age of consent. "They took their last breath not long after being born." "One more suicide in a statistical log." "We do not even know her name or his. All we have is the evidence." There are scant clues to inform us; why might a child take their own life?
Suicide affects all youth, but some groups are at higher risk than others. Boys are more likely than girls to die from suicide. Of the reported suicides in the 10 to 24 age group, 82% of the deaths were males and 18% were females.
While the discrepancy seems vast, there is still great cause for alarm. At one time, girls were more likely to attempt the act. Now, they frequently succeed. In September 2007, we learned young women can conceive of, and achieve, what will end a life.
The suicide rate among preteen and young teen girls spiked 76 percent, a disturbing sign that federal health officials say they can't fully explain . . . The biggest increase - about 76 percent - was in the suicide rate for 10- to 14-year-old girls. There were 94 suicides in that age group in 2004, compared to 56 in 2003. The rate is still low, fewer than one per 100,000 population.Suicide rates among older teen girls, those aged 15-19 shot up 32 percent; rates for males in that age group rose 9 percent.
Our children are in pain and Americans ponder how can we protect the young [from themselves or from us.] Each day, parents, and educators look into the face of the future and see what they or we refuse to recognize: anxiety, apprehension, depression, and even a twisted delight for what might be bothersome. Some teens, and yes, even elementary age children have tendencies that, if consciously noticed, would be reason for concern. Yet, there was and is no time for such "petty" pondering.
Moms and Dads are occupied at work. Instructors prepare to teach to the many tests. Administrators assess an agenda that will bring more funds to their schools. Districts implement programs that politicians think wise. Pedagogy is not the principle concern in America; nor are the pupils.
Grades dominate in the grind known as school. Class rankings are recorded for posterity. Test tallies tell the tale of success. Permanent files are kept. A little person will be evaluated on their performance in the classroom, in the community. The good child receives a gold star; the best school is granted gold as well. Cash fills the coffers of an institution that appears accountable. The construct that states, as a society adults must teach to the Whole Child is but a blip in a vast universe of significant interests. Only a few in the field of education follow theories laid out in The Learning Compact Redefined: A Call to Action.
to the playground supervisor, a first baseman;
to the teacher, a learner of arithmetic.
At times, he may be different things to each of these specialists,
but too rarely is he a whole child to any of them.
~ From the 1930 report of the White House Conference on Children and Youth
In our culture, people have priorities. For each of us our main concern is personal. Too often, we forget, our children determine the quality of our future. Parents, Principals, and policy-makers invest in the immediate much to the dismay and degradation of the Seventh Generation and their progeny.
For countless careered Moms, Dads, prominence is far more important than personal passion. Parents do what they can to ensure their child is enrolled in the best schools. They drive hither and yon. After-school lessons are scheduled for every hour of the day. Families grab some food, fast, then they ready for bed. Moms and Dads ask, "Is your homework complete?" Parents do not inquire; "How are you?" "What do you feel?" "May I help?" Mothers and fathers do not ask for the answer does not matter to those who expect children will do as they have always done, grin and bear it. "Don't you dare cry or sigh" is the common contention.
Teachers and Playground Supervisors may not wish to surrender a perceived dominance. Classroom control and an organized playing field are essential if children are to learn or throw a good pitch. For a Doctor, diagnosis is the challenge. Few think of the emotional fractures in a child's life. The visible is far more viable to those with a job to do.
Besides, it seems that the young are resilient. Elders believe that tots do not experience lasting pain, and if they do the offspring will not remember, or be harmed, nor act on the duress they encounter. Children go through phases; nothing is permanent, or so the adults wish to believe.
The smallest persons in society smile. They endure; however, many hurt deeply. Each face tells a unique story. Rarely do we consider the distinctive existence of individual beings. We do not ask of an individual child's experiences, the effects of these, or the emotions each event in a young life evokes. The current curriculum requires accountability; it demands instructors avoid the nuances. What makes a child tick is of little consequence. As long as he or she can perform on a test, that is all that counts.
At times, the system will make allowances for those in need of remedial classes. A child may be defined as "special." Sadly, this determination furthers separates a student from classmates and often from his or her self. Tim was one of these.
Any individual singled out, accepted as standard, or told he or she is superior will react to the identification. Each label has its own externally imposed expectation. Children try to aspire to what they are told they must achieve. They go along to get along, or they resign themselves to defeat. Even those thought to be successful by all in their community frequently feel they fail miserably.
It is no wonder our young people seek solace in drugs, drink, sex, or death. Our offspring, fighting to survive, to soar, to score on a test, or place well on a High School exit or college entrance exam, frequently feel dead inside. Occasionally a child will kill others, or them selves. Most, merely maintain a presence, as did Seung Hui Cho for a time.
Cho graduated from Westfield High School in 2003. But there is no mention of him in that yearbook, not so much as a senior picture. The high school, which opened in 2000, is stocked with high achievers. Newsweek magazine once ranked it among the 50 best public high schools in America.Its football team won the state championship the year Cho graduated. But with 1,600 students then, Cho was the odd boy who never spoke, former classmates recalled. He joined the science club but just sat there. He carried around an instrument that earned him the name "Trombone Boy."
School officials went to some lengths to encourage students to interact. They put round tables in the lunchroom so no one would feel left out. The "Westfield Welcomers" club formed to help wallflowers and outcasts fit in. But none of it seemed to work for the lonely, acne-plagued boy in glasses who was so quiet that some wondered whether he could speak at all.
Some sociologist would say Seung Hui Cho fits the profile of a mass murderer. Were we as a nation prepared to recognize and work with the hurt being in our midst the potential killer, we might have looked at Seung Hui Cho and seen the signs. However, indications implied after the fact, the act, are less obvious when encountered in a moment. Indeed, at times, if not always, the invisible inspires an individual to do as he or she does.
Pain is not painted on a face; nor does a person always scream out when they need help. Most of us are taught to take care ourselves. Yet, few of us know how to do this adequately. Perhaps, those that lash out believe they are doing what they need to do to release the pressure.
In America, little "big boys" learn not to cry. A sweet lass is told to look pretty. Tears are unattractive. In this country, independence is ideal. Adults teach the children not to be too needy. "No one wants to hear your troubles." When asked 'How are you,' answer, 'I am fine.' Then, move on, or pretend to. 'Do not expect too much.' 'Get good grades.' 'Make lots of money.' In a competitive society, that is all that counts.
Some students do as is standard quite well. Steven Kazmierczak did. Steven was an outstanding student. He was engaging, polite, and industrious. The friendly fellow had a bright future in the field of criminal justice. Steve, as he preferred to be called, graduated from college in 2007. The scholar continued his studies in graduate school. Since early adolescence, the lad was intent on helping society. Hence, he majored in sociology as an undergraduate. After he completed his preliminary coursework, Steven went on to pursue a Masters degree in the School of Social Work. This gracious gent had a girlfriend. Steve was anything but a loner, haunted with obvious hurts.
On the Northern Illinois University campus, Steven P. Kazmierczak was considered a gentle, hard-working student, who was honored two years ago with a dean's award for his sociology work. Professors who taught him said it was hard to imagine he was the same person authorities identified as the gunman in Thursday's classroom shootings."I knew Steve both as an undergraduate and as a graduate student. I have had him in my home. I knew him as a warm, sensitive, very bright student," said Professor Kristen Myers in an e-mail. "I never would believe that he could do this. I know that when these horrible things happen, everyone searches for roots to explain it. Here, I'm afraid I don't have any."
Steven Kazmierczak was an excellent student. A former classmate called Kazmierczak "probably the best student in the class." Another student spoke of how helpful Steven was. Stephanie Delhotal, 22, a former sociology undergraduate student said Kazmierczak worked as a teaching assistant in her statistics lab only a year prior.
"I learned most of what I knew from him," said Delhotal. Stephanie Delhotal, who is now a professional Social Worker, offered, "He was very nice and very friendly . . . he was so into statistics. I just took him to be a computer nerd."
Delhotal did not know him before the course, but saw him in the lab as many as three times a week during the semester, she said. "I was completely shocked. I just keep thinking back about how easy he was to talk to," she said. "He had a dry sense of humor."
However, humor and academic achievement do not necessarily bring joy. Instruction that focuses on formulas, figures, facts, and scientific findings do little to give rise to a healthy human being, and perhaps that is the problem yet to be broached in the classroom, or even in our homes. In educational institutions, instructors are required to attend to the parts. Teachers and Administrators address perceive accountability. As a nation, we ignore the whole. Countrywide, we do not ask who a child might be.
learn from the learner; put yourself in his place so that you may understand
. . . what he learns and the way he understands it.
~ Soren Kierkegaard
For the most part, curriculums are designed to pour information into a pupil, as though a human being were an empty vessel ready to fill. If we are to truly educate our progeny, we must redefine instruction. We need to create a culture that helps children to authentically acquire knowledge, not grades.
The Learning Compact Redefined: A Call to Action attempts to do this.
- Each student enters school healthy and learns about and practices a healthy lifestyle.
- Each student learns in an intellectually challenging environment that is physically and emotionally safe for students and adults.
- Each student is actively engaged in learning and is connected to the school and broader community.
- Each student has access to personalized learning and is supported by qualified, caring adults.
- Each graduate is challenged by a well-balanced curriculum and is prepared for success in college or further study and for employment in a global environment.
This promise is contrary to the current standard initiated with the advent and implementation of No Child Left Behind. On paper, at first blush, the newer educational program appears sound. The policy advances practices and philosophies that have existed in society for centuries. The populace has long endorsed gentle interpretations of "Spare the rod; spoil the child." Hence, in schools strategies that are thought to serve accountability were easily adopted.
Transforming the Federal Role in Education So That No Child is Left Behind
The Policy
The Administration's education reform agenda is comprised of the following key components . . .
Closing the Achievement Gap:
Accountability and High Standards.
States, school districts, and schools must be accountable for ensuring that all students, including disadvantaged students, meet high academic standards.
'Good, good, that sounds good,' say parents, Principals, and policy makers. All are interested in education and each wants to make certain our children receive quality instruction. High expectations and verification are vital. Administrators must answer for the programs the public pays for. No one can blame the student if the school does not do as deemed necessary. Americans believe we must reward achievement and punish those who fail. As we age, most of us forget, in order to succeed, we must learn from our errors. Most adults avoid the subject of task analysis. In education, many accept the end justifies the means. Teachers are trained to teach to the test. Students are tutored in how to best pass an examination. If perchance, each or either fails, the government mandates, there will be repercussions. One consequence is so subtle it often goes unnoticed.
Dropout rates slowly increase. Low-achievers, in frustration, leave school behind. Thus, the appearance of rising test scores and of a narrowing of the achievement gap is achieved. School ratings increase, authentic education decreases.
A recent
study of Texas public school accountability system, the model for the national No Child Left Behind Act, establishes that, the longer the high stakes testing program are in use, the worse the outcome. Children already made less important than the curriculum by this mandate are further reduced in significance. As could have been expected, instructional personnel begin to view students not as children to educate, but as potential liabilities. A pupil accomplished in test-taking is seen as an asset; high scores raise a school's performance indicators, advance the careers of educators, and help to grow the funds a school receives.
The research also indicates that Principals frequently play with pupils' lives in order to further their professional prominence. A child will not be allowed to advance a grade if he or she is deemed at–risk. If a student's grade on the exam will potentially threaten the schools status, arrangements are made. Most students retained in this manner give up on themselves and on school. Just as educators punish a less than perfect child, the system penalizes a struggling school.
- States must develop a system of sanctions and rewards to hold districts and schools accountable for improving academic achievement. . . .
- Consequences for Schools that Fail to Educate Disadvantaged Students. Schools that fail to make adequate yearly progress for disadvantaged students will first receive assistance, and then come under corrective action if they still fail to make progress.
If schools fail to make adequate yearly progress for three consecutive years, disadvantaged students may use Title I funds to transfer to a higher-performing public or private school, or receive supplemental educational services from a provider of choice.
Therein lies the problem. When an educational institution or a child does not perform "properly," they are punished. Punitive actions so not help better a school or a student. Studies show punitive practices hurt a society or and the instructional staff.
Dear reader, you may recall in your own life the times when you acted in a manner that was considered disruptive, destructive, or without regard for others. If you were confined to your room, restricted from doing what brought you pleasure, ridiculed, or severely reprimanded you may have reacted poorly. Resentment readies an individual for further rebellion. Logic tell us, if a child or an adult is to learn or improve, they must be given an opportunity to reflect. Humans acquire wisdom when others trust the learner can grow. Reciprocal reverence, empathy is the best educator.
However, logic rarely rules when people are reactive. Parent, Principals, and educators are after all, only human. When frustrated with what they fear they cannot control, people of any age penalize those who do not perform as desired. Rebukes realize no rewards.
Why Punishment Does Not Work
The research literature gives clear guidelines about the ineffectiveness of punishment as the only correction procedure for children's misbehavior. Yelling, shaming, scolding, and corporal punishment backfire and create a mind set in the child where he misbehaves more. Some children do worse when words like "never," "don t," "should not," and "It's not okay" are used during correction. There are many negative side effects associated with being punished:
- Punishment for aggression may stop the behavior temporarily, but may further stimulate aggressive behavior.
- The child may stop the punished behavior but may increase another aggressive behavior.
- Punishment may serve as a model for aggression. Children imitate what they see adults do.
- The punished behavior may stop only in the presence of the adult and increase in other settings.
- The child may strike back at the punishing adult or displace his anger at someone else.
- Frequent punishment may cause some children to withdraw and regress.
- Angry children who do not fear authority may become more angry and focus on revenge.
- The child may feel shame and harbor thoughts of lowered self- esteem (I'm a bad person. I'm mean.)
- Punishment merely suppresses the response but does not teach the child what to do.
In the short term, punishment may be effective in suppressing negative behavior when the punisher is present, but it does not teach the child positive ways to act. Punishing techniques that make the child feel bad about himself may make him act out more!
Remember Asa. This child felt besieged, plagued, punished for being the person he was. This young man received ample ridicule. He was constantly punished; his presence alone was enough to bring an onslaught of attacks. Classmates called him Jack Black. The label referred to the vociferous, chubby, long-haired actor in the movie "School of Rock."
Asa could be shrill. His appearance alone might have been classified as a cry for attention. His hair was unkempt. Histrionic accoutrements graced his neck, his nails, and his abdomen. Asa adorned his fingernails with black polish. Around his neck, he wore a dog. A faded rock concert tee-shirt covered his chest. A trench coat completed the composition.
Asa often felt as though he was tormented, teased, taunted, and mocked. The troubled lad felt victim to frequent slights. He believed others belittled him, beguiled him. He was deceived and ill received. Asa Coon felt misunderstood, and he craved as all creatures do, love, not loathing. In frustration, Asa Coon characteristically lashed out. He was not merely a quirky lad; he was quick to anger.
This was the Asa who always seemed to be in fights at school. This was the Asa who slapped around his mother. This was the Asa who talked about suicide.And it was this Asa, authorities say, who walked into SuccessTech Academy Wednesday with a satchel full of guns and ammunition and opened fire on teachers and students. . .
What apparently pushed Asa's troubled young mind over the edge was an argument with classmates about the existence of God. It happened a few days ago in reading class.
Asa said he didn't believe in God and didn't respect God.
Another kid disagreed. . . .
After school, the two kids fought. Asa took a beating. Both were suspended.
"I'm going to get you," he warned his tormentor. "I will get you."
Indeed, he did. Asa attempted to take revenge on those he believed wronged him. A professional, Professor Jack Levin, Northeastern University, Criminology, offered a worthy assessment of the situation. Perhaps, the lesson Americans need to learn is often lost. What truly occurs within our offspring is left behind as our children are today.
There are always missed signals. The problem is that they only become clear after the fact. Hindsight is 20/20, and after somebody shoots a number of people, everybody all of a sudden is a psychologist and recognizes all the warning signs. Now, the problem is that these warning signs beforehand apply to so many youngsters. Many of these shooters hate school or they like Marilyn Manson or they black -- they use Gothic clothing. They're rebellious. The best predictor we have is previous violence, and in this case Asa definitely had that in his background, but my point is this, we ought to be intervening early in the life of a child because he's troubled, not because he's troublesome.
On rare occasions, a child has an opportunity to authentically connect to an adult, a curriculum, life, and lessons that are given and received with love. After Tim met Barbara M. Stock, he became one, among the exceptions. At the time, the two encountered each other, Barbara held a brand new doctorate degree in Psychology and education. The young scholar was proud the knowledge she accumulated. Upon reflection, she states, she was "full of" herself. Shortly after she received her Ph.D., Stock and her husband moved to a small quaint town. Jobs were few, opportunities fragile.
Advised by a receptionist in the Special Education Department of the local school district, Barbara Stock pursued a practical possibility. Perchance, she could find a job within the BRAT program. Curious and anxious to impress, Doctor Stock inquired.
I asked the mothers, “What does BRAT mean?” The mothers gave me how-stupid-are-you looks. “BRAT,” one mother said. “ ‘Brat…’ That’s what the school people call our kids.” It wasn’t an acronym for Behavioral…Remediation …Anything.
As Stock observed the students, she realized her mission. A lone lad came into view. Tim was awkward, assertive, and jubilant, all at once. He was energetic and alien in his approach to life. After a short time, Tim's mother noticed Doctor Stock and her stare. The parent introduced herself to the professional person in her presence. "Mom" whispered to Barbara Stock, Tim was eight years of age and had learned nothing in this half-day program. Tim's mother wanted an afternoon tutor for her son. She hoped that if someone special would invest in her child, one-on-one, the odd boy would excel. There might be hope. Stock pondered the possibility.
Confident I could perform brilliantly, I agreed to tutor Tim. I saw this as a great opportunity: I could use the newest techniques of behavioral reinforcement and multi-sensory stimulation to teach Tim. Then I would write an article or even a book on my achievement. I’d dreamt of one day having my own school; this would give me the credentials. I’d already accumulated all sorts of learning devices—sandpaper letters, Cuisenaire rods, a balance beam. I arranged a child-size table and two chairs in our finished basement and created an inviting “learning space.” I was ready and willing to begin my major project: The Teaching of Tim.
Weeks went by; months moved quickly. Tortured tutor, who loved her young teacher, Tim, Barbara M. Stock, learned what most educators are reluctant to admit.
Tim surprised me. He excelled, though not from any lesson I planned.
Frustrated and bewildered with the accredited approaches that proved futile, Stock embraced what was more real. She engaged the child in a manner that allowed Tim to be Tim.
Gradually, I had to let go of my analytical, intellectual approach. I taught Tim best on his terms, seizing the opportunities he enjoyed and encouraging him to be practical, playful, and protective.Although I’d wanted to give up on Tim many times out of personal frustration, I felt truly sad when I had to say goodbye to him. I had no data, no article, no book to publish. Tim could pay attention longer, express himself better, and manage his frustration more often. But his gains were infinitesimal, impossible to measure. I felt like a total failure.
Tim’s mother and I became friends and to her I confessed my defeat. She saw the situation differently. “He looks forward to seeing you. He smiles,” she said. “With you he’s not a ‘brat.’ These are gifts beyond measure.”
As we said goodbye, Tim hugged me. His mother laughed out loud. “That’s a first, and probably not listed on any test.”
Tim's Mom was sensitive to the whole of her child. She observed his trials and tribulations with great care. The concerned parent [or teacher] can recognize triumphs. Tests do not.
Barbara M. Stock with all her prominence, prestige, and post-graduate expertise was helped to understand what typically remains undetected. Erudition is not necessarily visible to those who know not what they see.
Indeed, the manner in which each of us internalizes instruction differs. We need only consider Emma, Asa, Bradley, William, Shawn, Tim, or ourselves to realize one size, one test, cannot fit all. Standardize assessments do not allow for nuance. Pedagogical practices, no matter how philosophically profound, may not be as effective as "real" life lessons are. When individuals, teacher and student, parent and pupil, administrators and instructors, interact with authenticity, each senses they are accepted and admired. People learn when they treasure the tutorial.
Empathy is the best educator. Punishment or mechanical methodology, presumed to be a practical, do not reward a spirit starved for insights. Meaningful and appreciative acknowledgements nurture a mind, heart, body, and soul. A healthy child is whole. His or her education is balanced. When a child is reactive, a distraction, or destructive, elders must acknowledge the little one is pleading for assistance. 'Teach me,' he or she shouts. If adults are to abet, they must realize penalties alienate. Praise produces desirable results.
What Does Work
The research shows that praise for appropriate behavior, reasoning, giving consequences, withholding privileges, time out and teaching the appropriate social skills do help a frustrated child make better behavioral choices.The child who misbehaves constantly needs to hear correction statements phrased in positive language to implant alternative ways of thinking and acting in his developing value system. Telling the child with behavior problems what not to do often guarantees that he will go and do it! Instead, tell him what to do and help him to feel good just thinking about acting in positive ways. Give a choice between two alternatives.
Teaching social skills gives a process of correcting the inappropriate behavior instead of suppressing it through punishment. Social skills training offers a more humane way of giving children tools to deal with conflict so that they can take care of themselves. Learning social skills helps children reduce aggressive and violent behavior. Teaching the prosocial skills helps all of us. When children learn and use positive reciprocal ways of interacting with each other, this adds to peace in our world.
Processing Cues To Say After Conflict What you say to an aggressive child will determine the likelihood of his decreasing the inappropriate behavior the next time. To break into the child's negative thinking patterns, process what happened and what could be different next time in a non- threatening way. The research shows that people are most ripe for change after a situation of high emotional arousal. Being corrected is generally a high arousal situation so the child should be ripe for new learning. You have a golden opportunity to help your child make the commitment to change by using this teaching approach.If you can get to the child's vulnerability and sense of fair play after a situation of conflict, you can help him make changes. Show the child the consequences of his actions on others. Whenever possible, give him a choice. Ask him to make a value judgment on what he did. Give him solid information on how he could react in positive ways. Always leave him feeling good about himself with hope for the future.
Few of the questions posed on examinations reward a learner. Results are not immediate. What a child is asked to assesses is often not real or personally relevant to a young person. In America today, on tests, in the classroom, and even in some homes, children are not required to think critically. Nor are they given the opportunity to imagine, innovate, or invent. Conventional wisdom dominates the curriculum, and students fall further and further behind. Sadly, we often look at our best students and see automatons. However, they are more.
who does not know or understand himself,
and the only person that he knows is the person he is supposed to be,
whose meaningless chatter has replaced communicative speech,
whose synthetic smile has replaced genuine laughter,
and whose sense of dull despair has taken the place of genuine pain.
Two statements may be said concerning this individual.
One is that he suffers from defects of spontaneity and individuality, which may seem to be incurable.
At the same time it may be said of him,
he does not differ essentially from the millions of the rest of us who walk upon the earth.
~ Erich Fromm [Observer of Humankind, Psychologist and Author]
Might we begin to embrace our children and their sweet souls. Let us no longer scold students when they struggle to grasp the essence of a standard test question. We need not drug those whose attention span is short. Let us, educators, and parents engage each child individually. If perchance, we listen to what the children tell us about them selves, if we see each student as a whole child, we might learn how to best teach them.
~ R. M. Hutchins [American Educator, Author, The University of Utopia and The Learning Society, Board Editor for Encyclopedia Britannica]
Perhaps adults can take a lesson from life. Each of the school shooting show us, our offspring are in pain. Medications will not cure what ails the young. Restrictions placed on guns, or access to other objects, will not make our schools safer. More of the same and stricter standards will only serve to deaden minds that wish to soar. That is the paradox. Americans send their children to school to learn; then they squelch the possibility. May we teach the offspring well and allow them to tell us what they need as a whole child.
~ Joseph Joubert [French Critic]
In this country today, citizens are reminded that Math, Science, and Reading, the basics are essential. Students study so that they might pass tests in these subject areas. Teachers teach techniques that ensure success on examinations. Facts fill the air in American classrooms. Some scholars survive , others hope to die.
In this nation, we forget. There is so much more to life than Math, and more to Algebra than a correct answer. As Mister Kupfer, a High School mentor tells his students, a correct solution does not authenticate that a student understands the process. A problem requires more than a guesstimate, or memorization of a formula. Mathematician Kupfer states, if a pupil cannot work through a problem, twenty years after he or she saw it in class, then they never truly learned how to solve the equation.
Science is not as simple as a law declared absolute. Theories also abound. Curious souls search beyond what they know to be true and discover what is yet to be part of a standard curriculum. A student motivated to think, rather than realize a score on a test, might take a quantum leap. A student, trained to think as a scientist might, will not simply accept a static answer. Analysis is not wrong; it is just not encouraged when the course of study is guided by multiple choice tests.
Reading requires more than regurgitation of the words printed in a booklet. Bubbles darkened in on a page, and preparation for tests do not a satisfy a sincere student. Our children are asking to learn. They crave a caring connection. Let us bring education back into our homes and our schools. May we teach our offspring well and wholly. The youth are our future; may we give them a strong foundation. Research, Reflection, and reverence, these are the three R's, the basics.
~ Albert Einstein
Schools, Standards, Sources . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on February 19, 2008 at 09:00 PM in "Take me as I am!", Americana, Approval or Love, Children, Education, Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Failure, Love of Learning, Nature or Nurture, No Child Left Behind, School Days, School Shootings, School Violence, Success. Failure., Teach The Children | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Fragrances and Food; The Way to a Heart is Through the Stomach and Nose
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
We met in December. The year was 2007. He was a friend of my cousin's. The two were best of buds; they still are. Cousin Paul has known James for decades. Jim moved to my hometown only months earlier. He felt alone. James longed for a friend, locally. Paul introduced us on the Internet. After my relative played the mediator, the man in the middle, the means for a message, he asked if he might share our electronic mail addresses. James and I each consented, and from then on, we exchanged epistles directly.
In letters, we liked each other. Admittedly, for us, the electronic medium was limited. We decided to share a drink together; although I let him know, I only imbibe water. James said that was not a problem. We arranged to get together at Starbucks. The coffee shop was near to his home and mine. Neither of us wished to share where we lived exactly. We were hesitant, cautious, or just not willing to chance the unknown.
Today, speed dates are popular. For some, a minute or two is more than enough to determine whether he or she is the "one." Some believe in love at first sight. They know immediately when Miss or Mister Right walks through the door. From across a crowded room eyes meet, sparks fly; for many providence steps in. Cupid's arrows are manifest destiny.
A gallant gent may meet a genteel girl and the two will gallivant forever. If a lady were to encounter a extraordinary lad in the last month of the year, by Valentine's Day, perchance the two would be wed. That is unless she eats garlic onions, or spicy foods.
James enjoyed our first encounter. He took pleasure in our later luncheon. My cousin's best friend looked forward to our every conversation. The more we chatted the more he longed to converse, connect, and commune in every way possible. This fine fellow spoke of copulation often. While he had been with others at the time of our introduction, he did not feel as close to them as he did to me. James spoke of our shared energy, enthusiasm, interests, and the excitement he felt in my presence. Nonetheless, one day, as he readied to rally at my home he decided he could not do it.
The smell of my well-seasoned skin was just too much for this lovable man. James diet is bland in comparison to mine. He did not wish to tell me I could not dine as I do. He did not wish to end our relationship per se; James just needed to create a physical distance. All the while, he reminded me of how much he loved me and always will. Certain he did not want to think of a time when we would not be emotionally together, James concluded, at least for a time, he needed to occupy a separate physical space. Perhaps, we could see each other and just not share a repast.
In the Twenty-First Century, the dynamics of dating are more complex. People are sensitive. The personal preferences of one person may offend another. Individuals are vocal.
Sharing meals has always been an important courtship ritual and a metaphor for love. But in an age when many people define themselves by what they will eat and what they won’t, dietary differences can put a strain on a romantic relationship. The culinary camps have become so balkanized that some factions consider interdietary dating taboo.No-holds-barred carnivores, for example, may share the view of Anthony Bourdain, who wrote in his book “Kitchen Confidential” that “vegetarians, and their Hezbollah-like splinter faction, the vegans ... are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit.”
Returning the compliment, many vegetarians say they cannot date anyone who eats meat. Vegans, who avoid eating not just animals but animal-derived products, take it further, shivering at the thought of kissing someone who has even sipped honey-sweetened tea.
Ben Abdalla, 42, a real estate agent in Boca Raton, Fla., said he preferred to date fellow vegetarians because meat eaters smell bad and have low energy.
No matter how delightful a mate may be, if she eats meat, or finds a meal of fish repugnant a male suitor may not pursue her. If a woman thinks a man prefers a menu that is ethically loathsome, she will say so. Even those trained to understand, may not empathize at all.
Lisa Romano, 31, a vegan and school psychologist in Belleville, N.Y., said she recently ended a relationship with a man who enjoyed backyard grilling. He had no problem searing her vegan burgers alongside his beef patties, but she found the practice unenlightened and disturbing.Her disapproval “would have become an issue later even if it wasn’t in the beginning,” Ms. Romano said. “I need someone who is ethically on the same page.”
While some eaters may elevate morality above hedonism, others are suspicious of anyone who does not give in to the pleasure principle.
James did not quibble with my decision to avoid caffeine or alcohol. He did not question my desire to shun sugars. It made sense to this sweet man that I do not dine on meat, fish, chicken, or potatoes. James did not find fault with my wish to preclude processed foods from my diet. I did not consider his choices flawed. For me, people eat as they do. I delight in my entrees and worry not of what others consume. I understand change comes from within. I have no desire to transform another; nor do I wish to be converted.
As with other differences couples face, tolerance and compromise are essential at the dinner table, marital therapists said. “If you can’t allow your partner to have latitude in what he or she eats, then maybe your problem isn’t about food,” said Susan Jaffe, a psychiatrist in Manhattan.Dynise Balcavage, 42, an associate creative director at an advertising agency and vegan who lives in Philadelphia, said she has been happily married to her omnivorous husband, John Gatti, 53, for seven years.
“We have this little dance we’ve choreographed in the kitchen,” she said. She prepares vegan meals and averts her eyes when he adds anchovies or cheese. And she does not show disapproval when he orders meat in a restaurant.
“I’m not a vegangelical,” she said. “He’s an adult and I respect his choices just as he respects mine.”
In a former relationship, Eric and I were as Dynise Balcavage and John Gatti are. Never once was food an issue. I cooked meat for Eric with little hesitation. Admittedly, I would pay more for chicken parts. I could not bring myself to cut into the flesh and bone of one of G-d's creatures. When liver was prepared, I could not season the slices. In truth, my eyes could not gaze upon the bloody organ. Eric would place the animal protein in the bag I prepared with flour and spices. Then, he would lay the organ into the heated pan. Only after the meat was seared, could I continue to cook the "delicacy."
However, while I do not define myself by what I eat, I can no longer look at animal flesh on a plate and feel the same emotional distance I once did. While I still do not struggle with what another ingests, I do not believe that I would be so willing to bake, broil, or boil a bird, cook or carve a piece of beef, slice or dice a chop of pork. Perhaps, I have changed, even if ever so slightly.
I cannot be certain whether trends transform a person, age alters an individual, or if experience hardens hearts. Perhaps, ancient hurts hinder us. In an era where divorce defines the population, people have become more discriminating. James was married twice. I am the daughter of divorced parents. In America today, our experiences are common and likely shape us. The subtle nuances of companionship possibly affect the stomach and the nose..
Children watch Mom and Dad coo, only to see them separate. The pain of parents parting can cause a stomachache. Teens remember when their parents were romantic, rather than full of rage when together. As an adolescent reflects on unity he or she ponders, 'This stinks!' Adults cannot forget the one who broke his or her spirit. Habits of lover were appreciated. Slowly, but surely, all that seemed beautiful left a lover nauseous. The scent of one who was adorned becomes a reminder of all that was lost. Closeness can be sickening. Smells and tastes are no longer savored.
Nonetheless, people wish to believe passion is pure, adoration is in the air, and that special someone is just around the corner. Hence, we look, and look, and hope to find our Valentine. Restaurateurs rely on the human desire to love and be loved.
Valentine's Day ranks second only to Mother's Day at restaurants."It's something that restaurants all over the country . . . look forward to," said Steve Chucri, president and CEO of the Arizona Restaurant Association.
Thirty-five percent of Americans dine out on Valentine's Day, close to the 38 percent on Mother's Day.
Of those who dine out, 80 percent pay an average bill of $62. The remaining 20 percent spent more than $100 in 2006, the most recent year for which figures are available, according to Sherry Gillespie, the association's marketing manager.
Those spending $62 are paying $20 or $25 more than usual, Chucri said.
"I think people go out and spend more because they enjoy the day," he said. "They might get that bottle of wine instead of a glass of wine. Or they might get an appetizer and a dessert."
Pleasure or the want of it can be blissful. James and I experienced that from the first. The conversation, started and stayed interesting. We were authentically animated. He thinks I am saucy and sweet, but perhaps a bit too spicy. Like or unlike millions, James does not revel in the smell of natural seasoning. At one point he explained, "I think you are great. I enjoy your company. I yearn to be with you and would be if only you would stop eating garlic, onions, and spicy foods for three days."
While intellectually James does not object to my nutritional regime or my being as I am, his stomach and nose struggle to follow his fondness. Delicate scents do not disguise the aroma of peppers. A bouquet of cologne does not cover the odor of onions. From food to fragrances, friendships are fragile.
Perfume has long been an aphrodisiac decanted sparingly from an iconic glass bottle. But for Leslie Ware, a fashion editor at a quarterly magazine in Huntsville, Ala., fragrance has worked its magic in the opposite direction, as a romantic deal breaker.Several years ago, Ms. Ware was engaged to a gentleman who did not like Trish McEvoy 9, the fruity vanilla blend she had been wearing for seven years.
“He thought I smelled like a traveling carnival, the kind where they sell corn dogs, because I guess the smell was reminiscent of cotton candy,” Ms. Ware, 28, said. “This was the demise of Trish No. 9.”
It was a bad omen.
Soon after, Ms. Ware said she broke up with the perfume-averse boyfriend. She has not worn fragrance since.
A more recent boyfriend fared no better after he bought Ms. Ware what she called “an old-lady perfume” against her wishes.
“It made me mad,” she said. “I told him not to bother buying me fragrance since I am picky, and now I have a $125 bottle of perfume sitting in a closet.”
Just as stomachs lead many men, and women, noses help navigate these same individuals through the maze of ardor. When we wish to give to one we love, money is no object. The cost of the gift does not deter a admirer. Nor does the price impress the person who receives a present. There is much to love, and more to learn if we wish to create a bond that lasts.
This Valentine's eve women will not douse themselves in fragrances and men will be reminded not to buy perfumes as they did in the past. Colognes and toilette water are not collected as they were years ago.
[M]ore women are forgoing scent altogether. Last year, about 15 percent of women said they did not wear fragrance, up from 13 percent in 2003, according to a survey of 9,800 women conducted by NPD.“That may sound like a small number, but nationally that translates into two million more women who are saying ‘I don’t wear fragrance,’ ” said Karen Grant, the senior beauty industry analyst at NPD. “Eighty-five percent of women are still buying fragrance, but an increasing number tell us they are wearing fewer scents, less frequently or not at all.”
Fragrance fatigue is probably inevitable, with heavily fruited scents wafting out of everything from dishwashing liquids to hotel linens to candle displays at the mall. But perfume aversion seems to be tapping into a larger societal phenomenon that may have its origins in bans on cellphones and cigarettes: the idea that the collective demands of the public space trump one’s personal space.
“People are shying away from fragrances not for the traditional reasons that you’d expect, that it is too expensive or that they are wearing alternative products like body sprays or lotions,” Ms. Grant said. “Many people said it bothers them that fragrance has an effect on other people, that they are trying to be considerate by not overcoming others with scent.”
Indeed, Rochelle R. Bloom, the president of the Fragrance Foundation, an industry trade group, said that people who worry that their fragrance may offend others simply may be wearing perfume improperly.
It is not difficult to hurt the feelings of another. People are sensitive souls. Stomachs ache. Noses run. Hearts hurt. Cupid's arrows are curved; however, they can be straightened.
But sometimes couples can reach olfactory accord. Last fall, Robert Flood, a retired technology platform tester in Allen, Tex., worried how to tell his wife of 25 years, Amy, that he could not abide her new perfume, Elizabeth Taylor’s Passion.“It was very atrocious, at least to me,” Mr. Flood, 52, said in a phone interview last week.
The couple later worked out a compromise so that he would not be discomfited should her scent again stray into his air space. Henceforth, each will choose a fragrance for the other to wear.
“On Valentine’s Day, we will go to one of her favorite stores and she will buy me English Leather and I will buy her Jean Naté, which is the fragrance she was wearing when we had just met and she was 17 going on 18,” Mr. Flood said. “We are not smelling the perfume so much as the memories.”
Indeed, for the Floods, fragrance brings with it the Proustian power of recall. One could argue that those who forgo perfume now may inadvertently diminish at some future date the textural memories of relationships past.
Perchance, passion is more than a perfume or a pound of flesh. Spice may not be the cumin poured into the curried dish. The flavors that create true fondness are not found in the pantry or the powder room. The zest and zing that brings zeal into a relationship does not originate during a meal. A scent will not make heartstrings sing.
If two are to enjoy as one they must be responsive and receptive to what is not visible to the eye or smelled by the snout. Memories made and remembered satiate more than a stomach and flood more than a muzzle. This Valentine's Day may be the time to steam sweet nothings and sniff a bit of fresh air. Hugs, kisses, and Happy Valentine's Day.
Sweetness and Spice Sources . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on February 14, 2008 at 05:30 PM in "Take me as I am!", Approval or Love, Compassion, Conflict, Complex, Dreams Live and Die , Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Empathy and Evolution, Food Folly, Looking at Life, Looking for Love, Marital Status, Quality of Life | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Less Homework Plus Yoga Equals Greater Stress?
copyright © 2007 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
In recent years, parents appear to be less able, or available, to assist with their child's education. Moms work outside the home. Dad is away at the office. Either or each, flies off on business trips. Even when the family is together, they run from one activity to another. Few families dine together. Less eat home cooked meals. There is so much pressure and it is not in the cooker.
Stress fills the lives of everyone, young and old. Among teens the problem many be more profound. Depression affects twenty percent of teens. Suicide is the third leading cause of death among adolescents and teenagers. According to the National Institute for Mental Health (NIMH), about 8 out of every 100,000 teenagers committed suicide in 2000. Needham High School Principal, Paul Richards yearns to change these statistics. Mister Richards is among many educators that have introduced programs to help reduce the strain, yoga classes among these.
Students are stretched to the limit. Society demands they prepare for college from birth. Once a neonate takes on an earthly presence, they are force fed a schedule. School is on the agenda, for some in the first months of their life. Toddlers are required to talk, use a toilet, and walk as soon as possible. Frazzled Moms and Dads are busy they have places to go, people to see, jobs to do, and so too does baby. Once a newborn is delivered, anxiety is introduced into their lives. Parents teach their young what they too learned at knees of those that cared for them.
Parents are a powerful influence on their progeny . From early childhood, to the 'tween, and teen years mothers and fathers make the difference. They are the a youngster's first and foremost teacher. Mommy and Daddy instruct through their presence and absence.
In March 2007, much to the dismay of many working Mom's and Dad's, a study substantiated that a child placed in day care for extensive periods, no matter the quality of the center, is likely to become disruptive in class. A child away from Mom or Dad at an early age still craves an intimate connection. Poorly paid surrogate parents cannot and likely will not offer the love, support, and attention that a guardian does.
Intellectually, Mommy and Daddy know this. They fear the possibility. Yet, what is an overwhelmed parent to do. Few can stay home even if they wish to. In a competitive market place, money must be made. A need to put bacon on the table causes many an anxious Ma and Pa to leave their little loved one in the hands of strangers.
Many guardians express their guilt and then look for a logical reason to explain away the pain. Desperate to find evidence that nursery school is beneficial to toddlers and tots, fathers and mothers cling to the revelation, time spent in high-quality day care centers correlates to higher vocabulary scores through elementary school.
We all know that parents are intent. They will do the extra work to ensure that they provide the best for their progeny. Mothers and fathers will vigorously investigate before they enroll their prodigy in a pre-school. Exceptional children will not be among the masses; nor will a prized child be among the norm. A good parent can be certain, his or her brood will be the best-behaved boy or girl in class. Ma and Pop insist on nothing less. Children consistently rise to parents' expectations.
Moms and Dads across America famously cater to their children's needs. They provide, ever if what they feel they need to do causes them great stress. A parent will sacrifice for his or her child. Poorer parents often secure two jobs, so that they might provide the best for their offspring. Local private and religious schools certainly will serve little Tim and Tina well. Middle Class Ma and Pop move to the better neighborhoods. They can choose from quality public establishments or academies meant for the privileged. The affluent need not worry. Their progeny will be properly placed and prepared. Ivy-league schools have a prestigious list of alum. These institutes honor legacies. However, efforts to secure excellence for elite scholars, while often emotionally and financially taxing, have not produced the expected results.
Study examines public, private schools
By Nancy Zuckerbrod
Boston Globe
October 10, 2007Washington -- Low-income students who attend urban public high schools generally do just as well as private-school students with similar backgrounds, according to a study being released Wednesday.
Students at independent private schools and most parochial schools scored the same on 12th-grade achievement tests in core academic subjects as those in traditional public high schools when income and other family characteristics were taken into account, according to the study by the nonpartisan Center on Education Policy.
While the finding is in line with a handful of recent studies, it's at odds with a larger body of research over the years that has found private-school students outperform those in public schools. Some of that research found a private-school advantage even when income levels are taken into account.
However, the new study not only compared students by income levels but also looked at a range of other family characteristics, such as whether a parent participates in school life.
"When these were taken into account, the private-school advantage went away," the report states.
The study looked at 1,000 low-income students from cities who are part of a nationally representative sample of kids surveyed over a period of years, along with parents and teachers, as part of a federal research effort.
In trying to determine whether the type of high school attended by a student made a difference academically, the new study tried to separate out the effects of income; earlier eighth-grade test scores; parental expectations; whether parents discuss school with their children and whether parents participate in school activities.
Parental expectations and involvement play a profound role in a child's achievement. Moms and Dads place much pressure on themselves, and then transfer the weight to the one that once resided in the womb.
In America today, some question whether Moms and Dads are too involved. Parents are concerned that their children attend the most impressive schools before the actual birth of the baby. Some Moms and Dads save for college just after conception. Pink and blue are not the only colors to consider; green is a must. Financial advisers suggest funds be set aside for the future at birth. In a competitive culture, children vie for a place at a prominent day care center.
In primary school, nothing is elementary. Children recognize if they do well, they will receive much attention and praise. Hence, little ones endeavor to be the best in every endeavor. Tikes ask if they might enroll in extra curricula activities. Friends are registered and their parents are proud. Approval motivates many decisions when we are small.
In High School, the pursuit of excellence is a compulsion, a habit. It seems almost inbred. Young adults know that if they are to compete, Advanced Placement courses and an stellar academic standing are a must. Adolescents ready their resumes before they apply for college. Numerous students devote their lives to advancement, much to their detriment. Hence, the reason that Paul Richards, and other educators, think there is a dire need to act.
Some high schools are requiring students to get parental permission before enrolling in Advanced Placement classes. Others are experimenting with later start times so students can get more sleep.
[Denise Pope, a lecturer at the Stanford University School of Education and author of the book, “Doing School: How We Are Creating a Generation of Stressed Out, Materialistic and Miseducated Students” (Yale University Press, 2001)] Dr. Pope advises schools to end the tradition of student newspapers publishing end-of-the-year lists of seniors and their colleges. “We found that there are kids who are lying,” she said, “because they’re embarrassed to say they’re going to a state school.”
Richards, among those Principals nationwide that realized the need to attend to the mental health of his students, observed as other educators have, frequently school age children, adolescents, and tots demand more from themselves than is physically possible. The desire for prominence and recognition took its toll. Students had no time to sleep, eat, or be. They were busy striving for success. Mister Richards decided the school would no longer submit the school honor roll for publication.
When Mr. Richards stopped publishing the honor roll in the local newspaper last winter, a move aimed at some parents who had turned the lists into a public accounting, Rush Limbaugh accused him of politically correct coddling of students, and Jay Leno mocked the school on national television. He received hate mail from all over the country.
Mr. Richards is undeterred. “It’s not that I’m trying to turn the culture upside down,” he said.
“It’s very important to protect the part of the culture that leads to all the achievement,” he said. “It’s more about bringing the culture to a healthier place.”
Yet, in this nation the pursuit of health is but another item to place on the time clock. As we observe hamsters on a wheel, we wonder. Does the animal generate momentum or does the centrifugal force move the Eurasian rodent. A human in pursuit of health may hit the treadmill for a few minutes.
Stress is significant in America, no matter what your age. Parents understand that they must prepare their children for what they face, an uncertain future, and they do. A good education is not enough to ensure economic stability. Jobs are outsourced. Machines replace people in the workplace. Corporations no longer invest in the laborers, and employees are not loyal to the company.
Income volatility has long been a hallmark of the American economy. Compared with those of workers in other developed countries, the earnings of Americans tend to bounce around drastically from year to year. And that's not necessarily bad. "People don't realize that income volatility and income mobility are the same thing," said Peter Gottschalk, professor of economics at Boston College and a pioneer in the study of income volatility. People who start out at the bottom of the income ladder frequently wind up at a higher rung.
Conversely, just because you earn $300,000 this year doesn't mean you'll be making that much 10 years from now. The economist Joseph A. Schumpeter, who coined the term "creative destruction," described the upper strata of society as a hotel in which the guests are always changing. Income volatility is the mechanism through which guests check in and check out.
After mining data from the Panel Study of Income and Dynamics, a database produced by the University of Michigan that tracks the incomes of the same families over a 40-year period, scholars have concluded that incomes are much less stable - i.e., much more volatile - today than they have been in the past. "There has unequivocally been general upward-trend income volatility since at least 1975," said Bruce A. Moffitt, the Krieger-Eisenhower professor of economics at Johns Hopkins University, who, with Professor Gottschalk, wrote one of the first papers on income volatility in the 1990's. "It accelerated in the 1980's, turned down in the early 1990's, and then accelerated into the end of the 1990's."
According to a measure of volatility constructed by Jacob S. Hacker, a Yale political scientist, which tracks the five-year moving average of family incomes, income volatility rose 88 percent between 1978 and 2000.
"The problem in the past few decades," Professor Moffitt said, "is that volatility has risen while real incomes haven't risen." What's more, income volatility has grown significantly for those who can afford it least. A series of articles last year in The Los Angeles Times, written by Peter G. Gosselin, who worked closely with Professor Moffitt and other scholars, reported that in the 1970's, income for middle-class Americans tended to fluctuate by 16 percent a year. But in the 1980's and 1990's, middle-class incomes fluctuated an average of 30 percent. For those whose earnings placed them in the bottom fifth, income volatility rose from 25 percent in the early 1970's to 50 percent in recent years.
Because of other longstanding trends in the economy, strong income volatility can wreak greater havoc now than it did in the past.
The havoc appears to be economic, and it is. However, what devastates Americans most is not the lack of income, as much as the fear of a shortage does. The stress caused by financial woes takes a toll on physical, mental, and the spiritual well being of Moms, Dads, and their offspring. Stress related illnesses are abundant.
People in this country run at an incredible pace. They race to make the grade, to make ends meet, to make a modicum of money, and to secure a prestigious career. Permanence is no longer possible. Thus, there is greater tension. Families are full of angst.
Each baby that bounces out of the womb must be prepared to woe the world with their wisdom, their wealth, and their worth. The latter is often determined in the formative years. Colleges will ask, "What was your grade point average?" Entrance, acceptance, approval all are dependent on your name and rank, or at least that is what parents teach their children.
Words need not be uttered. Moms and Dads model what they feel, fear, and believe. Actions speak volumes. The message is get a good education. Excellent grades are a must. Go to the best University. Secure an esteemed position in a company that pays well and provides benefits. Buy a big house on the hill, travel; and did I mention make lots of money. Then you will be a success, stressed, nonetheless, a success. Young people, in their desire to please, and be as mother and father think best strive to achieve. However, there is a cost. Financial obligations accrue. Tension mounts.
Although there is little quality research linking debt to poor health, experts say there's no question that being in debt can be stressful. And a wide body of research has tied stress to health problems including high blood pressure, cardiovascular disease and stomach disorders such as colitis.
Even those that have yet to enter the workforce feel pangs of angst. As lads and lassies prepare to enter the adult world, they doggedly attempt to keep the dragons at bay. In Elementary School, Middle School, and in the higher grades, there is a need to achieve. Youngsters acknowledge it is a competitive world out there. Our offspring train academically. They are coached in sports, tutored in music, dance, the arts; they strive to be smart. Long before they accumulate monetary arrears, emotionally they become out of balance.
High School Principal Richards realized this in his current assignment. At Needham High School, in the affluent Boston suburbs, Paul Richards, the Principal, meets with the Stress Reduction Committee. Some students are unable to attend. They are overscheduled and cannot commit to a consultation that takes them away from their rigorous academic schedule.
Mr. Richards is just one principal in the vanguard of a movement to push back against an ethos of super-achievement at affluent suburban high schools amid the extreme competition over college admissions. He has joined like-minded administrators from 44 other high schools and middle schools — most in the San Francisco Bay Area but others scattered from Texas to New York — to form a group known as S.O.S., for Stressed Out Students . . .
High schools in other Boston suburbs — Wellesley, Lexington, Wayland — have taken steps similar to Needham’s, organizing stress committees and yoga classes . . .
At Needham, there is some grumbling that measures like homework-free holidays could erode academic rigor.
Principal Richards realizes it is a challenge to change. Students and parents indoctrinated in a culture that demands that you do, deliver, and achieve external successes, cannot imagine taking time to be. There is no time to waste in pursuit of a degree. Ivy-league schools require exemplary résumés. However, Principal Paul Richards realized a rigorous routine may not reap the rewards that many expect.
Needham began an intense self-examination a couple years ago, after four of its young people — one in college, two in high school and one in middle school — committed suicide. While school officials emphasized that the suicides were not related to stress, the deaths heightened concerns about how Needham’s students were responding to school pressure.
Even before the suicides, Needham school officials had responded to youth surveys indicating troubling rates of alcohol and drug use and depression — rates like those at other affluent high schools — by establishing an initiative, starting in elementary school, to help students develop better emotional and social skills.
“One of our big goals is to try to help students become more resilient,” Mr. Richards said. He wants to help students learn to cope better with the inevitable setbacks, he said, “so they don’t fall apart if they get a B-minus.”
Mr. Richards, 36, arrived here three years ago from Nantucket, where, as principal of the island’s high school, he had to push students to aim higher. For all the academic advantages of Needham High School, what struck him, he said, was the cost to all this achieving and performing.
Many students were so stressed out about grades and test scores — and so busy building résumés to get into the small number of brand-name colleges they equated with success — that, he said, they could not fully engage with school.
“A lot of these kids,” he said, “are being held hostage to the culture.”
Mr. Richards, who is pursuing his doctorate at Boston College, made himself an expert in research on stress. In his office one recent morning, he grabbed a marker and drew a curve on a flip chart to illustrate scientific findings that while a certain amount of stress is necessary for learning and growth, too much interferes.
He said he was concerned with widespread cheating, mostly by students copying homework and failing to cite sources fully. Cheating, experts say, is a problem at high schools nationwide.
Interestingly, cheating on examinations cannot compare with the way that we cheat ourselves. American adults dupe themselves and the children into believing we can measure success. In the minds of most, a diploma, a degree, and the dollars in your bank account documents you have triumphed. A huge house on a hill, one that overlooks all others validates, you are victorious. A flashy chariot communicates you have arrived. It matters not that the person within the vehicle is void; that he or she thinks himself or herself to be nothing more than an empty vessel.
Unfulfilled parents work to possess more and more. Thus, they place their children in day care before the babies feel safe, secure, or have time to develop a stable sense of autonomy. They tell themselves they must send their babies off to school. With only one income, Moms and Dads cannot make ends meet. Perhaps, for a very few this is true. However, for most the desire to acquire is the dominant factor. Parents tell themselves they must provide; whilst they forget how much their mere presence bequeaths.
Citizens of the United States, mothers and fathers are so consumed with consumption, that they only know how to acquire possessions. Americans are unaware; 'How might I experience fulfillment.' We ask our offspring what they want to "be" when they grow up. Yet, actually, we wish to know what profession will they pursue in order to prove themselves valuable to society. Few of our countrymen, at any age, have discovered the answer to the deeper question, "What or who do I desire to be."
As Paul Richards pursues a higher mission, as he works to preserve the idea [or ideal] education is about more than statistical accountability, he acknowledges as he refers to Needham's record of academic success, “If the results aren’t there they’d run me out of town pretty quickly.” Dear reader, as you evaluate your own community you might give credence to the truth of Principal Richards statement.
Apparently, in America, profound contemplation is of little if any merit. Meditation is not suitable for those that wish to progress up the economic scale. If achievement falls at Needham High School, even if temporarily as people adjust, stress reduction programs will be eliminated. The rapid pace of the civilized rat race obliterates reflective reasoning.
In this country, current curriculums suggest critical thinkers need not be cultivated. Unless people are able to bring in the bucks, they have no legitimate purpose. Hence, we must teach to the marketplace. Mathematicians and scientist are taught rote techniques. Even artists, if trained at all, must act as technicians. Designers can generate dollars. Musicians have a mission. If they can please the masses, there is money to be made. In American classrooms, curiosity is not cultivated. There is no time to breathe deeply. Americans have debts to pay. Sadly, the deficit may be soul deep.
The Sum and Stress of Less Homework Plus Yoga . . .
By Nancy Zuckerbrod. Boston Globe. October 10, 2007
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on November 1, 2007 at 01:22 PM in Americana, Approval or Love, Children, Consumption and Content, Creativity and Curiosity, Education, Emotional Intelligence, Evolution [Emotional, Physical, Spiritual], School Days | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
