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
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
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
Race Relations in America; Colormute, Not Colorblind
copyright © 2008 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
In any Presidential election year, we hear of the race. Yet, discussions of "race" are void, or are since a truce was tendered. Americas would like to think of themselves as colorblind. We are not. Citizens of this country embrace “colormuteness, a term coined by Mica Pollock, Associate Professor of Education at Harvard University. What Professor Pollock observes in classrooms and in the hallways of schools throughout the nation occurs each day on the campaign trail. Children who wish to achieve excellence in the classroom are restricted by conventions they learned at an early age in our nation's communities.
When a young Caucasian child encounters a Black being, if they have never seen a person with a dark complexion, may point, tug at the a parent's trouper, point, and say, "Mom, Why is his skin so brown?" A lass might inquisitively exclaim, "Daddy, What is wrong with her complexion? Characteristically, Mother or Father will say, "Shush! It is not polite to point." Then the parent will pass on the message that they learned at their parent's knee. That communication will vary dependent on the family. Nonetheless, what is true, no matter who the guardian might be, the tone will be hushed. The tot will learn, we do not discuss the differences in skin tone or facial features.
What we were taught in our youth resonates in adult life. We see it on the campaign trail. Certain topics are acceptable and the one is forbidden. This etiquette is evident in our most recent election. Criticism is fine, as long as we do not broach the single most sensitive subject, "race," as it relates to the color of one's skin.
Candidates compete as they sprint towards the White House. They rack up the votes, and rail against their rivals. As Presidential hopefuls run for the Oval Office, they find themselves embroiled in discordant campaigns. Whatever they might say, the electorate will react. A delicate balance must be maintained.
Attack advertisements will fill the airwaves. Hurdles will be jumped in an attempt to make an opponent look or sound bad. The war veteran is no hero, and the soldier who stayed behind did not truly serve. In cyberspace, the calculations are conventional. The conversation can be extremely cruel. Religion will rule if he or she becomes President. His or her faith is not "right." His wife, her husband is [fill in the blank.] Can a damsel deliver as Commander-In-Chief, or will a drama result in her distress. However, the question that is addressed tentatively is, "Is America ready for a Black President?"
Americans are intimately familiar with the scandals. Constituents have witnessed what a little gossip can do. Within each campaign, people observe divisiveness. The demise of a fellow Democrat is fine. A rival Republican can ridicule another with reason. All is fair in love and war. While an aspirant may be fond of Party loyalty, in a Presidential campaign, faithfulness and friendship are not generously applied to adversaries. It is important to focus on differences if a candidate wishes to be the nominee for his or her Party, as long as the variation in skin color is not mentioned.
Our countrymen think it vital to understand Mitt Romney is a Mormon. The public believes it is important to contemplate, Mike Huckabee is a Preacher. It is grand that Hillary Clinton is a woman, but do we need to say aloud, Barack Obama is Black.
Sure, the words are said and the response is consistent. "It should not make a difference." Yet, it does. No one wishes to be labeled a bigot. As adults, individuals recall what their parents said, "African-Americans are people too," or one would hope they were thought to be in the United States. Still, each citizen of this country understands, Black people fight for parity. Even when conditions and circumstances improve for African-Americans, a few thrive, most struggle to survive.
Our Constitution claims "all men are created equal." However, in the States it seems that has never been the case. While Americans are proud of the fact that finally they can choose to vote for someone who is not white, they do not wish to speak of "race," only of the race. Ah, how well-trained Americans are.
Supposedly, citizens have progressed beyond our repressive roots. However, in truth, racism is rampant. Just as Americans have done in past Presidential election years, and do each day of our existence, we place one "race" above another.
Being Black in the United States is a topic discussed among those who are, and balked at by persons who rather believe themselves without bias. Carefully colormuted Caucasians do not wish to admit that that the sight of a dark skinned person can cause them to tightly clutch the pocketbook that hung loosely at their side. Anglos do not wish to confess that they feel an the urge to clench a fist, or place keys between their fingers, just in case they need to use the pieces of metal as a weapon when in the presence of a person whose complexion is a purplish-brown.
Few white individuals will tell of how they tremble when near an African-American stranger. Fortunately, many need not think of what they might do if a Black individual was near. In the United States, numerous neighborhoods are segregated, sometimes subtly, often overtly.
"Is it true that "Anna" stands for "Ain't No N*gg*rs Allowed?" I asked at the convenience store in Anna, Illinois, where I had stopped to buy coffee."Yes," the clerk replied. "That's sad, isn't it," she added, distancing herself from the policy. And she went on to assure me, "That all happened a long time ago."
"I understand [racial exclusion] is still going on?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "That's sad."
~ conversation with clerk, Anna, Illinois, October, 2001Anna is a town of about 7,000 people, including adjoining Jonesboro. The twin towns lie about 35 miles north of Cairo, in Southern Illinois. In 1909, in the aftermath of a horrific nearby "spectacle lynching," Anna and Jonesboro expelled their African Americans. Both cities have been all-white ever since. Nearly a century later, "Anna" is still considered by its residents and by citizens of nearby towns to mean "Ain't No N*gge*s Allowed," the acronym the convenience store clerk confirmed in 2001.
It is common knowledge that African Americans are not allowed to live in Anna, except for residents of the state mental hospital and transients at its two motels. African Americans who find themselves in Anna and Jonesboro after dark — the majority-black basketball team from Cairo, for example — have been treated badly by residents of the towns and by fans and students of Anna-Jonesboro High School.
Towns like Anna and Jonesboro are often called "sundown towns," owing to the signs that many of them formerly sported at their corporate limits — signs that usually said, "N*gge*r, Don't Let The Sun Go Down On You In ____." Anna-Jonesboro had such signs on Highway 127 as recently as the 1970s. In some areas, these communities were known as "sunset towns" and, in the Ozarks, "gray towns." In the East, although many communities excluded African Americans, the term "sundown town" itself was rarely used. Residents of all-white suburbs also usually avoided the term, though not the policy. . .
The overlooking of sundown towns, stands in sharp contrast to the attention bestowed upon that other violent and extralegal race relations practice, lynching. The literature on lynching is vast, encompassing at least 500 and perhaps thousands of volumes; at this point, we have at least one book for every ten confirmed lynchings. Still the books keep coming; Amazon.com listed 126 for sale in 2004.
Yet, lynchings have ceased in America. Sundown towns, on the other hand, continue to this day.
Nonetheless, the threat of such an act looms large in the United States. In the enlightened era of the Twenty-First century, Americans have discussed or dismissed the appearance of nooses throughout our homeland. More than a year passed before the mainstream media reported on the appearance of three nooses hung on a tree in Jena, Louisiana. Naturally, the incident was said to be a Southern phenomenon. However, weeks after a march on the city, in support of Civil Rights, another hangman's rope was displayed on the office door of a Black faculty member at the Teachers College at Columbia University. At a prestigious, Northern educational institution of higher learning, Americans were subject to lessons from the past. In this nation, Blacks, regardless of their economic status, or social stature are not safe; nor are they respected as peers.
Granted, the goodly among us will state as Lee C. Bollinger, President of Columbia University, declared, “This is an assault on African-Americans and therefore it is an assault on every one of us;” however, unless we speak of the unmentionable, those not victim to an attack, cannot imagine the wounds. Niceties do not heal the invisible and deep scars. Wounds are easily opened for they were never attended to. Colorblind as Caucasians allege to be, they are not cured of the ills of prejudice.
Only weeks ago, Americans again observed how easily we move from the topic of racial discrimination to decrees of settlement. No harm done, no words of division will be uttered. The offender and the offended do not discuss inequity, injustice, insults, and intolerance; the reality of race relations is left behind. School grounds, the campaign scene, and the world of sports are as the streets of America, battlegrounds for bigotry. Yet, in each of these venues, participants replace the actual topic with another. Apologies suffice. Our parents would be proud. Americans can admit when they are wrong and move on, or pretend to.
When Golf Channel commentator Kelly Tilghman joked on-air during the second round of the Mercedes-Benz Championship that ambitious young players should "lynch (Tiger Woods) in a back alley," she set off yet another incidence of the stagecraft that passes for racial discourse in this country, with a tragic moment followed by the requisite scenes of accusation, remorse and demands for the protagonist's head, all backed by a chorus of conflicting voices echoing to the rafters.There were plenty of soliloquies but distressingly little dialogue and no catharsis. For her part Tilghman was held accountable through a public scolding by the punditocracy and a two-week suspension by her employer; but for me, there's another, far more interesting character in this drama — Tiger Woods. . . .
Whether Woods likes it or not, the episode serves to remind him, and everyone else, that regardless of how he attempts to transcend race with his accomplishments on the golf course, he can never fully escape his status as a person of color.
Much the way the fried-chicken-and-collard-greens joke Fuzzy Zoeller made at the 1997 Masters pushed Woods into the role of African-American Golfer, Tilghman's gaffe reinforces his heritage and its burdens, lumping Tiger in with the estimated 5,000 men who were lynched in America between Reconstruction and the Civil Rights movement of the '60s. . . .
For his part Tiger was quick to forgive and forget, saying through his agent, Mark Steinberg, that the incident was a "nonissue" and later releasing a statement that said, "Regardless of the choice of words used, we know unequivocally that there was no ill intent in her comments."
Rarely does the individual who delivers a racist epithet mean to offend. The child who points does not intend to hurt someone's feelings. The parent who speaks in hushed tones purposely attempts not to insult. For those raised in a world where in the privacy of a home, unkind comments in reference to people of color abound, such assertions seem sound. Empathy escapes those who are not victim to the wrath of whites.
Anglos do not understand how a seemingly innocent statement can slice an African-American to the core.
To suggest that a successful Black man might need to be put in his place, or lynched, is to acknowledge a truth that is always apparent to an African-American gentleman or lady. A dark-brown-complexioned person who is perceived as one who does not know his or her station can expect to be reminded regularly, he or she is not equal to whites.
Decidedly, a dark-skin man or woman may do well in school or in the work place. A gentleman or a lovely lady may excel beyond all belief. A few elite Afro-Americans might be invited to live among Caucasians in an all white neighborhood, even in a Sundown Town. A token or two is always welcome. One with fame, fortune, and finesse may actually be appreciated. After all, a community must make a good impression. No locality would wish to be labeled intolerant, just as a parent, or child, does not desire to discriminate aloud. Consider cities in the Northern region of the United States. These humble townships have long maintained a noble image, false as it maybe.
Outside the traditional South—states historically dominated by slavery, where sundown towns are rare—probably a majority of all incorporated places kept out African Americans. . . .Ironically, the traditional South has almost no sundown towns. Mississippi, for instance, has no more than 6, mostly mere hamlets, while Illinois has no fewer than 456.
Appearances are a lovely illusion. Indeed, the presence of a Black person in a white world can be wrought with peril. Driving While Black is a common crime. Even so, in an automobile, there is some protection for the brownish-purple complexioned person passing through a predominantly Anglo section of town. If a Black man, or women, were to walk alone in an alley, in an affluent area, or in a slum, unaccompanied by an entourage, his or her life could be in danger. Tiger Woods, [Michel Jordan, Denzel Washington, Venus and Serena Williams,] in casual clothes, without the cameras, or a gold plated golf club to identify him, could easily become a casualty of racial chauvinism. Anglos, when alone or amongst an allied group of racists, are not colorblind. Nor are they colormuted. Whites will see, and say, as they truly believe. Indeed, if a successful man or woman, whose facial features, and color, are not characteristic of a Caucasian, they may well find themselves in a position to be attacked. In all likelihood, a Black person will be assaulted.
At times, the barbs will be verbal. On occasion, physical jabs will be offered. Perchance, a Black person may suffer a slight. Most who react to 'race' are subtle in their approach. However, it is rare when a white American does not express the bias that has been building for centuries sooner or later. What simmers and stews within eventually will come to a boil. The pain that hate gives rise to will spill out. As a culture, when we pretend to be colorblind, and act on colormutedness, we give no air to what is real. Racism has caused us to rot from within.
Intellectually, Anglos know that to diminish the worth of those whose complexion is a brownish-black, to scorn or snub an African-American merely because their appearance is considered less "acceptable," or to suggest that someone of color might be lynched is outrageous. Yet, as long as Americans refuse to acknowledged the roots of racism, and recognize their own bigotry, intolerance will flourish. If conversations are hushed, as they have been in this year alone, what we have witnessed will continue to burgeon.
Within days of the Tilghman incident, Golf Week Magazine glorified the schism. The sportscaster and her employer were the cover story or were meant to be. So much for these intentions, be they ill-willed or wise.
Golfweek Noose Elicits Strong Reaction
By Doug Ferguson
The Associated Press
Friday, January 18, 2008; 12:18 AMThe editor of Golfweek magazine said he was overwhelmed by negative reaction to the photo of a noose on the cover of this week's issue, illustrating a story about the suspension of a Golf Channel anchor for using the word "lynch" in an on-air discussion about how to beat Tiger Woods.
"We knew that image would grab attention, but I didn't anticipate the enormity of it," Dave Seanor, vice president and editor of the weekly magazine, said from the PGA Merchandise Show in Orlando, Fla. . . .
"Look at the executive suites at the PGA Tour, or the USGA, or the PGA of America. There are very, very few people of color there," he said. "This is a situation in golf where there needs to be more dialogue. And when you get more dialogue, people don't want to hear it, and they brush it under the rug. This is a source of a lot of pushback." . . .
Asked if he regretted the cover, Seanor paused before answering.
"I wish we could have come up with something that made the same statement but didn't create as much negative reaction," he said. "But as this has unfolded, I'm glad there's dialogue. Let's talk about this, and the lack of diversity in golf."
Golfweek Editor Seanor may have thought the conversation vital; however, the mainstream, the average Joe and Joanna, the persons in power, and those who have none, would rather not discuss the disparity that envelops us. Remember, etiquette is essential. Colormuteness and colorblindness are cool. Those who do not heed these calls are not. Editor, Dave Seanor was replaced one day after a racially insensitive graphic, a noose, 'graced' the cover of Golfweek.
Any lack of compassion, when public, can cause quite a controversy. When the same deficit is subtle, there are few problems, that is, if the offender's skin is pinkish in color. This contrast is sharply evident in this election season, just as it was in Elementary School. Our Presidential candidates and political Parties, like Mom and Dad, endorse colorblindness and colormuteness. The electorate embraces a truce that prohibits colorful conversations.
When race relations are discussed, the Democrats wish to appear more compassionate than the Conservatives. While it may be a tad true that the Democrats did better for Black America than the Republicans have, still, every Administration since America became a nation, did not authentically embrace equality. The statistics, even when improvement is apparent, reveal an awful truth.
The Conservative Agenda: Serving African Americans?
By Tim Westrich and Amanda Logan
Center For American Progress
January 17, 2008How have African Americans fared since conservatives have been in charge of the economy? Not very well. Their increases across key economic indicators have been slower under Bush as compared to the 1990s. Here’s a look at the numbers:
African Americans’ median income declined by an average of 1.6 percent per year under the current administration.
In 2006, African Americans’ median income was $32,132, which is actually $2,603 lower than their median income of $34,735 (in 2006 dollars) in 2000. This is an annualized average growth rate of -1.6 percent. In contrast, this number increased at an annual average growth rate of 3.2 percent from 1992 to 2000. And African Americans’ median income is still substantially lower than Whites: In 2006, their median income was $32,132, as compared to $52,432 for Whites.Under Bush, the percent of African Americans without health insurance has increased from 18.5 percent to 20.5 percent.
In 2006, 7.9 million African Americans were not covered by health insurance. The rate of African Americans not covered by health insurance increased by an annual average percent point change of 0.30 between 2000 and 2006. This is a much different picture compared to the 1990s. From 1992 to 2000, the number of uninsured African Americans decreased from 20.1 percent to 18.5 percent, an average annual percent point change of -0.20.The employment to population ratio for African Americans has declined faster than that of the Whites under the current administration.
In 2007, the employment to population ratio - the percentage of the civilian population that is employed—for African Americans stood at 58.4 percent compared to 63.6 percent for white Americans. Between 2000 and 2006, the employment to population ratio for African Americans declined by an average of - 0.4 percent each year after increasing by 0.8 percent on average between 1992 and 2000. The employed share of the African-American population grew faster than the employed share of the White population throughout the 1990s, but has shrunk faster than Whites since then.The increase in African-American homeownership has been slower under Bush than the 1990s.
The homeownership rate for Whites increased three times faster than the homeownership rate for African Americans between 2000 and 2006. During this time, the homeownership rate for African Americans increased by an average annual growth rate of just 0.1, from 47.2 percent to 47.9 percent, whereas Whites’ homeownership rate increased by an average annual growth rate of 0.3 percent. This trend is in part because African Americans have actually seen their rate decline since 2004. Compare this to the 1990s, when African Americans’ homeownership rate increased by an average annual growth rate of 0.8 percent from 1994 to 2000. Whites' rate was 0.6 percent during this time (homeownership data by race are not available before 1994).More African Americans are in poverty under Bush.
More African Americans were in poverty in 2006 than in 2000, just after we saw a vast improvement the 1990s. In 2006, 24.2 percent of African-American individuals were in poverty. Compare this to 2000, when 22.5 percent were below the poverty line, a percentage point change of 0.28. Poverty among African Americans decreased substantially from 1992 to 2000, going from 33.4 percent to 22.5 percent, or an annual average percent point change of -1.36.
The number of impoverished persons of color frequently increases. At times, it decreases. On occasion, it remains the same. Yet, no matter who is in the Oval Office, Americans worry less about the fact that the dark skinned among us are more likely to live in poorer neighborhoods. African-Americans are less likely to have adequate Health Care. Doctors discriminate.
Schools are segregated along racial lines. Citizens of this country understand that a person who lives on the wrong side of the railroad tracks is probably Black. Sundown Towns may have begun to allow Afro-Americans in; however, these persons better realize, they have their place. Dark-skin people are encouraged to believe they are powerless to create genuine change, and Anglo Americans like it that way.
There was hardly a rumble when the former First Lady, and Presidential aspirant explained, "Dr. King's dream began to be realized when President Lyndon Johnson passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964," Clinton continued. "It took a president to get it done." This statement seemed reasonable to those who have deterred the dreams within the Black community. Rival candidate, and Senator Obama softly declared the comment "unfortunate and ill-advised"; nonetheless, he too was willing to remain colorblind and colormute. A Black person knows better than to incite a riot. African-Americans, in the childhood are taught as well as whites.
In this country, citizens of all colors accept the truth and dare not drastically change it. It is for this reason the electorate is barely disturbed by statements from a former President, his aides, or allies. Even prominent Black Americans, grateful for small favors, and Presidential appointments, will stand by the side of a spouse and a former Commander-In-Chief when he states bigotry is believable and logical.
Voting for president along racial and gender lines "is understandable because people are proud when someone who they identify with emerges for the first time," the former president told a Charleston audience while campaigning for his wife. . . .Bill Clinton said civil rights leaders Andrew Young and John Lewis have defended his wife. "They both said that Hillary was right, and the people who attacked her were wrong, and that she did not play the race card, but they did," he said. . . .
Clinton also told about 100 people in Charleston that he was proud of the Democratic Party for having a woman and a black candidate.
For the former President, colorblindness and colormuteness helped to heal a division that he now justifies. In America, racism, and chauvinism, are not only acceptable, these characteristics are considered a source of pride, and not a sign of prejudice. Americans would rather be smug [and self-important] than address the sad fact people are not treated equally.
However, the message is mixed. On one hand, the Clintons are prideful of the support they receive from the African-American population. On the other, the two Clinton's conclude Blacks will automatically congregate around their brethren. When people do not admit to the color they see and will not hear of it, there is ample confusion.
The puzzlement continues. As votes are tallied, the temptation is to discount a rival's win, or blame it on the color barrier, the one that supposedly does, or is it, does not exist. When a Presidential aspirant or her husband speaks of the race [to the White House], the implicit untouchable topic of "race," is tenderly tackled.
In Charleston [South Carolina, during the 2008 primaries] last week, Bill Clinton said, "They are getting votes, to be sure, because of their race or gender, and that's why people tell me that Hillary doesn't have a chance of winning here."
Again, Americans must decide, does a person's race make a difference? Can people of color perform miracles as an Anglo might? In this country, we still argue whether we have seen this occur in the past.
Hillary Clinton reminds white Americans of the accepted wisdom, even a great and honorable Black leader, such as Reverend, Doctor Martin Luther King Junior could not "get the job done." This prominent person of color needed the white man [or woman] in the White House to achieve what had never been accomplished before. Senator Clinton's words help cultivate the belief, a Caucasian, has the power to change the nation or make dreams come true. Americans cannot know with certainty if this is true for even as some select Black persons climb, the old adage is reinforced.
"Race doesn't matter!" the crowd at Obama's victory celebration in Columbia chanted last night, and when he spoke, the senator elaborated on the theme. He said his victory disproved those who argue that people "think, act and even vote within the categories that supposedly define us" -- that blacks will not vote for a white candidate and vice versa."I did not travel around this state and see a white South Carolina or a black South Carolina. I saw South Carolina," he said. The election, he said, "is not about rich versus poor or young versus old, and it's not about black versus white. This election is about the past versus the future."
Americans wonder what will the future bring. Can the United States, as a country, change so significantly. After all, although voters are older and hopefully wiser, each was trained as a toddler. Perhaps, we must go back to school, to begin at the beginning. It may be that what we witness among adults could be quelled in the early years. Conventionally, in Elementary School, and on into Secondary Schools children were separated or tracked. In a desire to create a more balanced educational environment, the racial divide can be more apparent.
Beth C. Rubin, an assistant education professor at Rutgers University in New Brunswick, N.J., describes how a school system’s efforts to end tracking—the practice of grouping students in separate classes by academic ability—inadvertently stigmatized minority students in one high school classroom. In that class, a teacher’s careful efforts to balance student work groups by race, gender, and ability enraged an African-American student.“You trying to get all the black kids away from each other, before we cause a nuclear holocaust!” the student exclaimed. Meanwhile, the white students in the class, most of whom were high-achieving, relegated the minority students in their groups to roles that gave them little opportunity to hone their academic skills, according to Ms. Rubin’s account.
“I guess I’m asking teachers to think about race a little differently, and not so much about having to have kids equally distributed among groups,” Ms. Rubin said in an interview. “And also,” she added, “to think of group work as skill-building over the course of the year.
Americans are reminded each day, integration without conversation does little to create balance. People must not merely live together in neighborhoods, or work with one another in schools, or in offices. We must learn to be open, honest, and willing to work through our differences. What we do not understand will destroy us.
A word, a look, will be interpreted through our personal background and experience. If you are Black, a criticism might mean, "Get Back!" If white, the same statement might be construed as, "It will be all right." If we remain colormute and colorblind, if we never bother to learn who each of us is, we can be certain, change will not come. This is evident in numerous studies. Our expectations rule.
Balance is also key to the kind of instructional climate teachers should provide in racially diverse classrooms, [communities or campaigns] according to Ronald F. Ferguson, the director of Harvard’s Achievement Gap Initiative . . .Geoffrey L. Cohen, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Colorado-Boulder, recommends that, in offering students critical feedback, teachers convey the idea that the criticism reflects a high standard, and that they believe in the student’s ability to reach that standard . . .
Mr. Cohen has found that such messages can be more motivating for minority students, who are often wary of the feedback they get from teachers, than when educators overpraise them or give the same feedback to all students.
“Being a member of a stereotyped group puts one in a sort of bubble in which one can’t be certain whether the critical feedback comes from bias against their group or a teacher’s motivation to help one improve,” Mr. Cohen said in an interview. “In general, though, whites can enter a school situation thinking, ‘Teachers here believe in me.’”
For many Black Americans, an educator is frequently another white person who works from a premise of fear or futility. Too often, a teacher seems pompous or pretentious. It is not uncommon for an African-American to feel patronized when in the presence of an Anglo authority figure. A comment meant to express care, can be heard as contrived.
Every individual, regardless of color, has a history. Experience teaches us more than a professional mentor might. It is hard to trust that a person might be colorblind, if that is even possible, if they are colormute.
As long as Americans choose to avoid the discussion of diversity, to deny differences, and to reject hat our distinctive appearances enhance our experience, then life will be as it is and was. Change cannot come. Admittedly, Anglos are [color] blind. Apparently, Caucasians, and even Blacks prefer to be [color] mute. This must end if we are to evolve.
When Americans, teachers, preachers, or Presidential hopefuls, do not empathetically approach the topic of intolerance then, as a society, we will continue to clash and crumble. We may wish to hide from what haunts us. However, there is a price to pay for racial discrimination and the income inequity we accept.
Economically and emotionally, bigotry is expensive. Americans can see the cost of dilapidated schools. Residents in this Northern region of the globe experience what occurs when students do not have the opportunity to soar. Employment possibilities are limited. Without a satisfactory job, homeownership is not feasible. Even apartment life is not cheap. In a culture that creates illiteracy, the streets may provide the only shelter.
A society that houses hordes of those with dark skin in slums does not truly serve us equally. Citizens of the United Sates might understand, when a person is poor, as too many Black people are, they cannot afford adequate Health Care. Hence, everyone, the affluent, and those who struggle but survive, contribute to the costs an ill and impoverished America creates.
In this country, in our local communities, during this political campaign, if Americans remain colorblind and colormute, nothing will change. The possibility that conditions will worsen is one we must acknowledge.
Barack Obama may be correct. Differences exist. However, they need not divide us. Conversations about colorblindness and colormuteness can make his dream, our shared hope, come true. Let us imagine that one day, this vision will be ours together. As one people, united, perchance in time Americans will say . . .
The choice . . . is not between regions, religions, or genders. It’s not about rich versus poor; young versus old; and it is not about black versus white.It’s about the past versus the future.
It’s about whether we settle for the same divisions, distractions, and drama . . . or whether we reach for . . . common sense, and innovation – a shared sacrifice and shared prosperity . . .
When I hear that we’ll never overcome the racial divide . . . I think . . . Don’t tell me we can’t change.
Yes, we can change.
Yes, we can heal this nation.
Yes we can seize our future.
Anglo-Americans must no longer hold their children tightly when in the company of Black man or woman. Pinkish people cannot continue to caution their progeny, to tell them they must pretend to be colorblind, and authentically become colormute. If we are to ever heal, Caucasians in this country must mentor their offspring to believe, colors are beautiful. Americans need to see the tone of a person's skin, to speak of an individual's race, and the realities without criticism. If this country is going to change, if the United States expects to excel, then, we, the people must truly be, and act as equals.
Resources For Racism . . .
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on February 1, 2008 at 11:00 AM in "Take me as I am!", Americana, Black History, Past/Present, Black Men, Civil Rights | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Overweight Children - Adults Face Widespread Stigma and Strain
copyright © 2007 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
In America and the European Union Overweight Kids Face [a] Widespread Stigma. Only days ago, I contemplated this truth. As I watched a family shop, I was struck. She was young, perhaps ten years old. She was very heavy. I wondered how could one little girl carry so much weight on such a small frame.
The lass was sweet, quite petite, although clearly troubled. She had been shopping with her Mom, her grandmother, and her younger brother. From appearances, it seemed this family was in Target gathering wares for Grandmamma. They did not give the impression of being poor; nor did they look to be wealthy. They were average folks; they could have been you or me.
This family did not dress well. Their clothes were clean, just not stylish. Were this group more fashion conscious pants, shirts, and shoes would have been color-coordinated. Patterns might have blended in a manner that was more appealing. However, I guess they were comfortable in casual apparel. After all, making purchases in a discount department store does not require a person to dress with finesse. Simply covering your body is sufficient for such a chore.
The family of four entered the checkout line. I was standing behind them. Their exchanges were pleasant. The children each chose to purchase an item for themselves. Grandmother and Mom paid for their goods, as did the boy. Then the young woman did her transaction. The cashier rang up the sale. Dollars passed from one hand to another. There was change. The school age girl went to place her pennies, nickels, quarters, and dimes into her tiny purse. A single nickel fell to the ground. The coin made a sound as it plunked to the floor. The girl heard the noise and saw the shiny nickel.
She looked at the currency longingly. Then, this lass turned and glanced at her family. They were walking away. Her brother, mother, and grandmother had not noticed what occurred. The group was not far and yet, not near to the girl. It would only take a moment to pick up the coin and move towards the others. Pensively, the female child considered the nickel. She looked down and then up and down again. Finally, she fled in haste, leaving the lonely coin behind. She never bothered to pick it up, although she did think too.
It did not seem to me that this little lady thought a five-cent piece was not worth much. From appearances, or perhaps I am projecting, recalling my own struggle with excessive weight, her greater concern was the effort involved in bending over to retrieve a small piece of anything. I remember the days, and not too fondly. My heart went out to this child. There, but for the grace of G-d, go I.
I am reminded of the time when I was obese, not pleasing plump, chubby, or fat; I was corpulent. I grew into a size that was twice that of normal quickly. I did not consume gross quantities of food. The portions on my plate, or in hand were not large. It was actually quite startling to see the weight pile on. Pound after pound was added to my body mass. There was no index to guide me. Indeed, I was eating less than I had for years before this gain.
However, my weight gain was not an anomaly. For me, fighting with my body mass was normal. My family was substantial mentally and physically. Many of my relatives are big people, not tall, just wide. The little girl and I seem to share a family shaping, or might I say out of shape. Her mother and Grandmother were large. Her brother was not as rotund; however, he seemed to be ready to tip the scale.
In my family, some were fit. My Grandpop walked for miles, each and every day. He was active and agile; a few relatives are. However, it seems on average, the propensity toward plump was prominent in my world. The younger generations in my own family might have mirrored their elders, or perhaps more accurately did as their parents had. This is true in most families, even the thin ones. However, patterns change. In recent years, Americans are shorter and more stout. For generations, Americans were taller than those in other nations; however, this is changing.
[H]eight has been stagnating in the US for a decade, and Americans are now shorter on average than many Europeans, including not only the very tall Dutch and Scandinavians, but even the citizens of the former East Germany, see John Komlos and Marieluise Baur (2004).This is troubling for many reasons. Not only is our health and life expectancy effected, so too is our income. For years, Economists told us tall persons earn more money than the diminutive do. An inch can increase your net worth by at least a thousand dollars per year. However, recent research reveals the height you achieve in adulthood may not determine your income. Stature may not be the key to financial success.While Americans are not expanding upwards, they continue to expand outwards, and the average American, like the average Briton, is now heavier than the weight that would minimize mortality risk given average height.
Tall men who were short in high school earn like short men, while short men who were tall in high school earn like tall men.If, during our younger years we do not think we are worthy, excellent, brilliant, or outstanding than likely we will not believe we are the best later in life. Often, we trust we are admirable when others act as if we are.That pretty much rules out discrimination. It's hard to imagine how or why employers could discriminate in favor of past height. If tall adolescents—even those who stop growing prematurely—grow up to be highly paid workers, it's got to be because they've got some other trait that employers value. [Nicola Persico, Andy Postlewaite, and Dan Silverman of the University of Pennsylvania] believe that trait is self-esteem. Tall high-school kids learn to think of themselves as leaders, and that habit of thought persists even when the kids stop growing.
For the fatter child, the need for approval weighs on their minds. Much embarrassment is felt, and experienced early on.
Overweight children are stigmatized by their peers as early as age 3 and even face bias from their parents and teachers, giving them a quality of life comparable to people with cancer, a new analysis concludes.At the age of two, nearly three, I recall sitting in the den with a ballpoint pen in hand. I drew lines on my thighs designating exactly where I wanted the excess meat removed. I do not recall being ridiculed at home; nor do I remember peers speaking of my weight.
I did attend summer camp at that age. At two and one half years, I was the youngest camper. Perhaps, being four years younger than all other campers had an effect on me. Indeed, I was left out of much. The counselors were not willing to teach me to swim. My bunkmates did not wish to include me in games. Being a person that loathes and avoids competition, and always did, I had no desire to participate. I was somewhat sedentary.
Possibly the situation demanded it. I could not go off and play on my own. I needed to stay with the group. Yet, I was separate. I sat still for hours while my bunkmates engaged in recreational activities. My situation, although different, mirrors much of what occurs today.
Lack of exercise is a major factor in the growing problem of obesity, both for children and adults, according to Dennis Styne, a UC Davis Medical Center pediatric endocrinologist who is a recognized authority on issues of childhood obesity. "Obesity has become a serious health risk in America, and it is reaching epidemic proportions, even in the pediatric population," Styne says. "Close to 25 percent of America's children and adolescents are now considered overweight, and the numbers are increasing."I developed habits that hurt my already hurting heart. The children ran, jumped, laughed, and enjoyed each other's company. I could not join in. They thought me too young. At an early age, my less active life took its toll. The pounds piled on. Later, as the years passed, I was just lethargic.
They say obese children are victim to teasing, rejection, bullying, and other types of abuse because of their weight. I was fortunate, I did not experience much, if any of this in my youth. However, when I reached the age of sixteen, and added a few more pounds, a phrase was used by a loved one to describe me, "butterball." To this day, every year from Thanksgiving to Easter when the company with the same name advertises their turkeys, I cringe.
"The stigmatization directed at obese children by their peers, parents, educators and others is pervasive and often unrelenting," researchers with Yale University and the University of Hawaii at Manatoa wrote in the July issue of Psychological Bulletin.Research determined the heavier child exposed to such pressure is two to three times more likely to report suicidal thoughts. Frequently, the young and hefty suffer from other health issues. High blood pressure and eating disorders are not uncommon. Yikes, there I am. I was anorexic, then bulimic. My eating was out of order.The paper was based on a review of all research on youth weight bias over the past 40 years, said lead author Rebecca M. Puhl of Yale's Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity.
I have long been certain that my bingeing and purging was not related to my weight. Indeed, doing as I did, did not help me maintain a stable mass. The process stressed my body and my mind. Anorexia and bulimia are burdensome. They are as obesity in many ways. There is great shame associated with starving oneself. Over-eating and puking do not leave one feeling proud. People judge those that do not appear perfect or act in a manner that pleases others. We all criticize ourselves.
"The quality of life for kids who are obese is comparable to the quality of life of kids who have cancer," Puhl said, citing one study. "These kids are facing stigma from everywhere they look in society, whether it's media, school or at home."In a time when children are growing fatter, we can no longer avoid an issue that is pervasive. We must consider that they way people treat us when we are young has an effect throughout our lives. Height and weight evoke a response. That reaction stays with us. At a time when childhood obesity overwhelms the planet, we must consider the effect of this epidemic.Even with a growing percentage of overweight people, the stigma shows no signs of subsiding, according to Puhl. She said television and other media continue to reinforce negative stereotypes.
"This is a form of bias that is very socially acceptable," Puhl said. "It is rarely challenged; it's often ignored."
By 2010, almost 50 percent of children in North America and 38 percent of children in the European Union will be overweight, the researchers said.At times, we as a society must shield children from those that love them most, us. Sadly, parents, teachers, and friends do not realize how they hurt a fragile heart and soul. Teasing is thought to be just in fun. Expecting less of a fat child is considered realistic. Reacting to personal guilt for not caring for a child as you thought best, in a moment, might seem reasonable. However, the harm we do is immeasurable. Children internalize their pain.While programs to prevent childhood obesity are growing, more efforts are needed to protect overweight children from abuse, Puhl said.
A growing body of research shows that parents and educators are also biased against heavy children. In a 1999 study of 115 middle and high school teachers, 20 percent said they believed obese people are untidy, less likely to succeed and more emotional.Fat children are distinct. They stand out in a crowd. Actually, in their own mind they are often larger than life. I know I was. I was so surprised years later when I saw photographs of myself as a camper. I was not obese then. I only thought I was. For me, it was as Lynn McAfee stated, "You hear it so often; it becomes the truth." Even if the words were heard only in my head, they were repeated routinely. The belief that I was fat became my reality. In my teens I grew into the person I long thought I was. I became obese."Perhaps the most surprising source of weight stigma toward youths is parents," the report says.
Several studies showed that overweight girls got less college financial support from their parents than average weight girls. Other studies showed teasing by parents was common.
"It is possible that parents may take out their frustration, anger and guilt on their overweight child by adopting stigmatizing attitudes and behavior, such as making critical and negative comments toward their child," the authors wrote, suggesting further research is needed.
Lynn McAfee, 58, of Stowe, Pa., said that as an overweight child she faced troubles on all fronts.
"It was constantly impressed upon me that I wasn't going to get anywhere in the world if I was fat," McAfee said. "You hear it so often, it becomes the truth."
Her mother, who also was overweight, offered to buy her a mink coat when she was 8 to try to get her to lose weight even though her family was poor.
"I felt I was letting everybody down," she said.
Other children would try to run her down on bikes to see if she would bounce. She had a hard time getting on teams in the playground.
"Teachers did not stand up for me when I was teased," McAfee said.
A study in 2003 found that obese children had much lower quality of life scores on issues such as health, emotional and social well-being, and school functioning.
"An alarming finding of this research was that obese children had (quality of life) scores comparable with those of children with cancer," the researchers reported.
Sylvia Rimm, author of "Rescuing the Emotional Lives of Overweight Children," said her surveys of more than 5,000 middle school children reached similar conclusions.
"The overweight children felt less intelligent," Rimm said. "They felt less popular. They struggled from early on. They feel they are a different species."
Anyone that has ever struggled with their weight knows, trying to take off a few pounds can be a challenge. Eliminating the weight of years of mistreatment takes more effort than most can imagine.
Heavy children are insulted, ignored, rejected, and ultimately resent themselves. They misuse food. The weighty wonders may not appear malnourished; however, they are. The obese do not eat well.
[P]oor nutrition remains an impediment to health in much of the world today, Much less obvious is the idea that nutritional deficits are an important part of the health story in the rich world today. Yet there is a good deal of evidence, even—and in some cases particularly—in populations whose most obvious nutrition-related problem is obesity and over nutrition.Such mass consumption does not serve our children well. Nor do our eating patterns benefit us as we age.
"Obesity rates are increasing fastest among children, and they will carry obesity-related health risks throughout their lives," Ludwig says. "An adult who gains a pound or 2 a year through middle age will be at increased risk. But that is much less dire than the overweight 4- to 6-year-old who gets diabetes at age 14 or 16 and has a heart attack before age 30."Sadly, some of those that were heavy as children are already adults. Older persons, for the most part, do as they did in their childhood. Even if individuals lose the "baby fat," the feelings and ill effects associated with obesity often linger. Lifestyle, habits, health problems are more difficult and daunting than poundage. There are infinite influences on our body and mind. The marketplace matters.Ludwig -- director of the obesity program at Children's Hospital, Boston -- says the childhood obesity epidemic has three phases. The first came in the last decade, when child obesity became common but the public health effects weren't yet felt. Phase two is right now, as we begin to see serious complications such as type 2 diabetes in very young people. Phase three, Ludwig predicts, is coming soon.
"But we still have a little time before these children become young adults with diabetes and start to have heart attacks, stroke, kidney failure, and increased mortality," he says. "It is a massive tsunami headed for the United States. One can know it is coming. But if we wait until we see the ocean level rising over the shore, it will be too late to take action."
The advent of processed foods altered the physique and psyche. Motor vehicles and machines have an effect, A commuter and computer culture counts. The number of calories we consume and do not burn off as earlier generations did effects our overall well-being. There is ample cause for concern.
Today, we stunt our growth upward and expand our girth outward. Perhaps, we need to advance our awareness for what motivates us. Why do we torment the portly? How easy it is to ridicule and judge. Frequently, the tall, the thin, those that appear healthy blame the obviously wounded one. These saintly souls think obesity is a choice. People are not born fat. Perchance that is, in part, true.Poor nutrition and lack of physical activity are responsible for an estimated 300,000 to 600,000 preventable deaths each year.
An estimated one third of all cancers are attributable to poor nutrition, physical inactivity, and being overweight.
It was once thought diabetes or the tendency for this illness was inherited; however, there is ample to reason to believe that is not always true. Might we imagine that nothing occurs in isolation. If we are to cure what ails us, we must be open to options that are not easily observed.
Might we assess why those that gain so easily gravitate to food. I believe for too long we have presumed the answers are simple. It is often claimed obesity runs in families. The genes prime the pump. Numerous researchers prefer placing the blame on parents. Habits are learned. Mothers and fathers are our primary teachers. Schools receive their fair share of culpability. Surely if educational institutions supplied more nutritious fodder children would not eat as they do. Restaurants, food manufacturers all can claim an ounce of responsibility.
We too bear a burden; each of us decides what we will eat and enjoy. We believe we can easily forego exercise. We all are as the little girl. Bending down to pick up the nickel is not a simple task. Our mind may wish to do what we think wise; yet our body says we cannot. The two work in unison.
I believe, too often we do not honor the mind body connection. Possibly, we all are vulnerable to whatever affliction inhabits our bodies. In recent years, we are realizing that many ailments, once thought to be the result of natural causes are related to diet. What we eat has power; it effects the brain and bulk. Might we consider victuals feed us in ways we rarely explore.
To learn how to work with your appetite center, you must first understand it. It's time for you and your brain to become better acquainted.Perchance, we might empathize with the chunky little lass. She is you and me. Might we consider that our culture provides us with foodfare that harms us. Society teaches us habits that hurt us. Some lessons are learned subliminally. Others are fashioned at the dinner table. Possibly, we all would be wise to teach and treat the children well. If we do not attend to the biological, physiological, intellectual, and emotional needs of our progeny, they will suffer as will we all. If one man, woman, or child is diminished, we all are. Little girl, may I help you reach for more than a nickel.As soon as you bite into any food, sensory stimulation of nerve endings on the tongue leads to the release of a number of chemicals, including opioids, into the bloodstream. You release more opioids -- the body's natural versions of drugs like morphine -- when you consume foods high in sugar and fat, creating a powerful, neurochemical drive to overeat those foods.
These opioids and other chemicals enter the bloodstream and carry their messages to the hypothalamus, which sends out yet another set of chemicals to regulate appetite. The more flavors your taste buds register, the more stimulated the hypothalamus becomes, releasing the hunger-promoting hormone neuropeptide Y. When you taste a lot of flavors at once, the brain releases a lot of neuropeptide Y.
Meanwhile, in response to the smell and taste of food, your stomach produces the hormone ghrelin, which also stimulates appetite. It continues to produce this hormone until you eat enough food to literally fill your stomach and stretch the stomach wall. Farther down the line, in your intestines, levels of several hormones rise to varying degrees -- depending on the nature of your meal -- either inducing more hunger or turning off hunger..
The thick of it . . .
Thursday, July 12, 2007; 3:54 AM
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on July 13, 2007 at 01:44 PM in "Take me as I am!", Adult Influence on Children, Calories. Cells., Childhood Obesity, Diabetes, Eating Disorders or Habits, Food Folly, Habits, Health, Nature or Nurture, Nutrition, Quality of Life, Teach The Children, Weight, When Will I Be Right? | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Cindy Sheehan. The Plea, Promote Harmony Peacefully
Cindy Sheehan Quits
© copyright 2007 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
Dearest Cindy . . .
I meant to write this letter days ago after reading your farewell "Good Riddance Attention Whore." I watched as the number of electronic communiqués in response to your essay mounted. I thought my message might be lost and perhaps was not important. I decided to forego a seemingly fruitless endeavor.
Yet, as I reflected on my reading of your words, and those writing in reply, I was haunted. Still, I hesitated. I was drowning in sorrow as I observed the interchanges. Ultimately, I concluded I can stay silent no longer, for if I do I endorse the verbal struggle. Oh, how I long for peace, harmony, and tranquility in every aspect of life. I hope to express my thoughts in a manner that honors calm and furthers a shared understanding. However, if the present is as the past, what are meant to be peaceful ponderings may provoke.
Cindy, the chatter surrounding your letter of resignation reminded of what struck me most in your offering. I experience as you mention.
[T]he "left" started labeling me with the same slurs that the right used. I guess no one paid attention to me when I said that the issue of peace and people dying for no reason is not a matter of "right or left", but "right and wrong."I experience this as well. More often than not, my missives bring talk of divisiveness. When I am critical of those that send our young and now older to combat, I receive comments of how "evil" the right is. I may frequently speak of the neoconservatives with disdain; however, I think the Left is no less liable. For me, any being that thinks war is ever an option allows for the practice.
I have also been slammed for calling the Commander and his Cabinet criminal. While I do believe that all beings have the potential for enlightenment, some are extremely slow to evolve. The ego delays their ascent. I have faith that each of us will make errors repeatedly as we travel through this Earthly existence; nonetheless, when these blunders take sweet and vulnerable men and women into battle, I think that iniquitous.
For me, it matters not the Party affiliation; harming another is errant. I experience as you have.
I am deemed a radical because I believe that partisan politics should be left to the wayside when hundreds of thousands of people are dying for a war based on lies that is supported by Democrats and Republican alike.I cannot comprehend the reprimands of one that thinks I am too harsh verbally, when I, without swearing explain my disdain for any being that is willing to hurt others. Merely calling for censure or impeachment, a nonviolent means for ending mass murder, is considered illogical and disappointing to this self-defined contrarian. Apparently for this self-proclaimed Buddhist, placing the onus on me seems apt. I am bombarded with barbs while men and women die on battlefields abroad.
It amazes me that people who are sharp on the issues and can zero in like a laser beam on lies, misrepresentations, and political expediency when it comes to one party refuse to recognize it in their own party.The mad cap fellow I mention and I would each agree with this statement. However, he would remind me that the philosophical form of Zen, Hinduism that I hold dear is deeply flawed for it differs from the religious sect of Buddhism he prefers.
I sigh deeply. I trust that as much as I appreciate many of this man's musings, the need to be right or reproach drains me. I want no part of such exchanges. I long for peace in every effort eternally.
I am not a competitive person and have no interest in engaging is dialogues where one is left the victor, and the other defeated. I prefer peace. For me, even an arraignment is an opportunity for growth. It need not be confrontational. I only wish to lessen the power of those that think we have the right to punish another nation or our own citizens by putting them to death, or torturing them until they talk. Yet, consistently I realize bringing about harmony is not the intent of many in the movement.
I have also tried to work within a peace movement that often puts personal egos above peace and human life. This group won’t work with that group; he won’t attend an event if she is going to be there; and why does Cindy Sheehan get all the attention anyway? It is hard to work for peace when the very movement that is named after it has so many divisions.When working with an organization devoted to harmony, the two persons prominent is coordinating the events argued vehemently. Those assisting with the installation project then took sides. There was no tranquility among the pacifists; yet, they claimed to be people of peace.
While walking with a group dedicated to calm, marchers called out to the law officers. These peace protesters preferred to fight the fuzz. The antics of those supporting an end to war actually promoted the same on local streets.
Cindy, I relent as you have.
[N]o matter how much I sacrifice, I can’t make you be that [peaceful, loving] country unless you want it.Persons and political structures are as they wish to be. I cannot change them; nor do I desire to try. I speak out for I trust that my silence will not benefit them or me. In my own life much has been said when I was not ready to understand the meaning or significance. I trust that people and policies are in flux. They are evolving as am I. I can only hope that my love of peace will be honored within my lifetime. I accept that this may not be so. Nonetheless, for me and I trust the same is true for you Cindy Sheehan, I will continue to do as I can. However, I cannot sacrifice my own soul. If I am to stay strong, I cannot continually allow others to deplete my spirit.
Cindy, I thank you so much for sharing your self, your strength, and for remaining vigilant. I believe peace will come. You will be among those that made the transition possible. I am grateful.
Sincerely, with great respect . . .
Betsy L. Angert
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on May 31, 2007 at 02:05 PM in "Take me as I am!", Activism, Bloggers Unite, Cindy and Casey Sheehan, Communities, Communities and Communication , Compassion, Conflict, Complex, Discussion, Dreams Live and Die , Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Empathy and Evolution, Humans, Self-Destructive, Iraq War, Peace Movement, Peaceful Protests, Politics, War is in the Wind, War Kills [Mind, Body, Spirit], “When is Enough, Enough?”, “You are either with us or against us” | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Bulimia Builds Bitterness and Bridges
© copyright 2007 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
As we stood face-to-face and quietly discussed my years of anorexia and bulimia, I was reminded of what I always knew and yet, was too distracted to acknowledge aloud. It was not that I never spoke of it before, I had on many occasions. However, this conversation helped me to realize the heartache my illness [and I unintentionally] caused more deeply.
A sweet and sensitive soul stood tall, looked at me directly and said, "My sister struggles with bulimia. I would really like to speak with you about your experience." Moments before this utterance, we were discussing teeth and toothbrushes. I shared my history of stains and offered my theories. I mentioned my concern; had years of bingeing and purging damaged the enamel. Perhaps, my dentine was more porous than they had been before I began traveling down the path of bulimia. I did not know with certainty; I hypothesized. Then Douglas spoke. A minor musing evolved. My hope is I have as well.
Over the next few days, Douglas and I chatted often. I shared three missives I penned on the subject. Surprisingly to me, he read them immediately. He wanted to understand his sister. She is his very close and lifetime friend. We talked a bit more. I provided three more pondering prose. The wondrous man quickly read these as well. It seemed he was devouring information. He was searching for answers. Too much had been left unsaid for too long. Sarah had been ridding herself of fodder, denying herself nourishment for a few years now.
Or Similar Discussions . . .
Douglas and his sister Sarah struggled to discuss the unspeakable. This empathetic gentle giant of a man did not understand; why would she wish to eliminate all the food from her body. He feared for her; yet, he acknowledges, he did not express himself well when bulimia was the subject. Douglas was frightened. He felt powerless. Unbeknownst to me, my words gave him strength. He trusted I was open to discussing the topic, or at least he knew that I said I was. However, I wonder. Until I asked him of his thoughts, he said nothing.
Then, upon inquiry, Douglas spoke of how he never imagined that she might felt separate from herself as I had. This feeling fellow could not comprehend that his sibling was not as concerned with her weight as she might be about other situations, those that are far more serious.
I cannot be certain what troubles Sarah. She may fear adult responsibilities; I did. Graduating from high school or college can be a challenge. Fitting in or fearing not is quite an experience. It might be . . . ?
Douglas offered, he wondered why she did not just stop. As we exchanged tales of woe, his, hers, and mine, I could see that he was contemplating. Every thought I expressed traveled within him. There were many chords struck. The causes, the effects, all touched his tender heart. Douglas decided to present my letters to his sister. Possibly, she would know that he cared; that might be meaningful. His desire to help was palpable. I could see it in his face, hear it in his voice, I felt it.
This healthy hardy, fellow that stood before me knew he would never do as she was and is doing. As he read early on, as he reflected further, as we chatted, he realized that perchance, the physiological, the physical influences might be more powerful than he ever considered. Neurology might matter. I expressed my realization; bulimia is not purely a psychological problem, oh, that it were.
Upon reflection, as profound as our exchange was, I did not realize the depth or intensity. I had no idea that this encounter would change me. I long ago concluded I had worked through all that was during those trying years. I was wrong.
I never realized how fully my relationships with family, and friends, was affected. Might my acquaintances also have tales to tell of their trying times with me? When I was immersed in an enigmatic illness, I was, as all human beings are involved with many individuals, those at work, at school, on the streets and in the stores. Discussing with Douglas helped me to learn, to grow, to resolve some of sorrowful details, and to realize there was more I need to work through.
Among the quandaries still left to resolve is my relationship with my cousin Alexander. After, Douglas first revealed his situation, and his gratitude for our conversation, I was elated. I telephoned my Mom's first cousin, my close friend, Alexander. I was excited and wanted to share the story. Might my history assist another? Would that not be wondrous? My cousin took a deep breath and paused.
Alexander and I rarely authentically discuss this part of the past. He lingers, as it looms large in the background. I understand that just as it was and perchance still is difficult for Douglas to discuss the doings, the dilemma, and the festering feelings that Sarah's situation fosters, Alex struggles. His stomach churns. Communication, when dealing with bulimia is a challenge. Alexander and I chat freely and often. We have for decades. Yet, this topic is too tender to touch. The scars are subterranean. The scabs sit delicately on the surface. No one wants to pick at these. Bloodletting is not our pleasure. Alexander stammered.
Then my sweet, caring cousin began to reflect on his reality. As I listened, I heard a somewhat protective cadence in his voice. It took time for me to remember that just as that period profoundly altered my ability to be free fun, silly, and stay on the surface, my affliction affected others abundantly. Even today, there is bitterness. What was not communicated then continues to have its effect. Perhaps, my family can build bridges now. However, first we must break down the barriers. Alexander begins to speak and I realize the wall is wickedly thick.
Years, and years ago, my Mom in desperation, turned to him requesting his assistance. Alexander and Mommy were close. They were raised together as siblings might be. The two had a loving history, and Alexander is a man of ample means. Mommy hoped for a financial favor. There was no one else she could turn to. No other family member or friend had funds for such a venture. She thought it might be best to hospitalize me, not for a day or two, not to stabilize my physical imbalance, but to place me in a treatment program that would work with me as a whole.
My Mom thought it wise to put me in close and constant proximity with physicians that specialize in bulimia. Although my Mom is a psychotherapist or perhaps because she is, she feared, she might be part of the problem. She could not help me as much as she longed to. This hurt her heart; it scarred her soul, and I only wish she truly knew. It was never her fault.
Alexander offered no cash. From across the country, cousin Alex, alone consulted with a doctor that someone recommended to him. The reference practiced many hundreds of miles from Mommy and me; he was considered a specialist. This physician is a psychiatrist. Since Alexander lives on the East coast, and the Doctor on the North West shore, the two talked by telephone. Alexander took copious notes. He jotted down pages and pages of data. Ultimately, this Doctor stated, since my Mom is a professional she likely is as knowledgeable as he.
Berenice Barbara certainly had knowledge of the dilemma. She lived with it daily. Yet, she could not continue to do so. Mommy remembered.
There was a time, years earlier, I resided in my parents' home. Each day, I would walk to the grocery store, buy bags and bags full of food. I had my own shopping cart and could crate much home. Once settled in the sanctity of the abode, I prepared for the afternoon and evening delight. The experience or entrées were delicious, or might have been had I ever bothered to taste the delicacies I prepared. Culinary escapades come in many sizes and shapes. Mine was huge and it took on many horrific forms. My adventure was interesting to say the least.
I placed newspapers on the floor in front of the television. I would travel between the kitchen and living room. I never bothered with the bathroom. I cooked, cleaned as I prepared my mega-meals, sat down ate, and then threw-up. All my food fell into a basin neatly placed in my palms for just this purpose. There was no time to travel to the toilet. Besides, that seemed so inefficient. I was busy, productive, bingeing, purging. Leave me alone!
My parents let me be. Possibly, they hoped it was a phase. Probably they knew they could not stop me from doing as I did. My brother was quite young at the time, not more than five years of age. I am certain he was curious, though he never said a word. Now, he barely remembers any part of his childhood. My routine went on for a while. Finally, I secured employment. I moved out.
Money was tight and became increasingly tighter. Try to feed a food frenzy that never ends. Imagine paying for twelve, fourteen, or sixteen hours of provisions everyday. I could no longer afford an apartment. I returned to my parents abode, for ten minutes. I walked into the entryway and was about to prepare for "my day." My Mom turned to my father and said , "No, I cannot do this."
My father, an extremely loving man was not willing to give up on me; nor was my Mom. It was only that Mommy could not watch as I wasted away and destroyed my body, again, and again. My condition affected my parents differently. They are , as are we all uniquely individual.
Mommy thought herself responsible. It hurt her heart so much to see my body bend, twist, and turn herself inside out. She saw her child wither away and feared I would pass. Even when the weight stabilized, she did not feel at ease. Berenice Barbara knew too well, what I was doing.
Bodily functions were precarious. I was depleting my electrolytes. Potassium, needed to sustain the blood flow was barely available. It was flushed out with the bile. The muscular organ that beats life into a human being was threatened. Mommy feared what was yet to occur. There is ample literature on the hazards of bulimia. None of the symptoms or effects of bingeing and purging are promising.
My father Barry, was equally familiar with the folly. Perhaps, although we were and are best friends, my antics did not affect him as they did my Mom. After all, he is not biologically related to me. Perchance, our bloodline had no bearing on his feelings. Barry only wanted to help and actively make known he loved [loves] me and believed in me.
Of course, Mommy did too. We were always very close. Possibly, that is why we were fine, as long as I was not throwing up in her home. I often say, "Home is where the heart is; mine is wherever my mom lives." Mommy wanted my heart to thrive. It could not, if in her home she accepted its suffering. I understood. I did not say a word when she asked me to leave her house. I could not. I hurt her so much. Harming me caused her much pain. Hurting my Mom heightened my sorrow, my grief, and my anguish.
Barry spoke instantly. He told me not to worry; he would help. Minutes after my Mom expressed her exasperation and left the room, Barry and I drove to a lodging inn not too far from my parents' dwelling. Barry rented an efficiency apartment for me. This man, my father secured my rent for a month, then the next. Of course, there was the following. Eventually, I worked my way out of that living situation. However, the bulimia did not transition as easily.
While in the hotel apartment, I invoked a newer pattern. I began "proceedings" at 1:00 Post Meridian. I cooked, cleaned, ate, and eliminated until usually one or two ante meridian. Nonetheless . . .
As Alexander spoke and shared his version of the anecdote, my mind wandered. Actually, I wondered. It was obvious to me. He believed he had done all he could. He saw no reason to involve himself further. Alexander was certain that Mommy had everything under control. I knew she wished she had.
For Berenice Barbara, it was not the undelivered dollars that did her in; it was the sense that Alexander did not care. He and Mommy are first cousins; as children, they were together always. My Mom felt she turned to him as a confidant, a brother, and he did not bother to talk with her. Actually, they never spoke again.
Mommy and my father Barry did much to assist me, as did Grandpa. Alexander believes that Grandpa loaned Mommy a bundle and she never re-paid the promissory note. Cousin Alex thinks my Mom frittered the dollars always, or tucked them into a mattress perhaps. She never sent me to a treatment center.
Alexander knows me now, or thinks he does, decades after that time. He sees me as healthy, happy, and I suspect feels certain my affliction was never all that serious. Yes, he has heard me speak of it, though rarely in depth and detail. It seems he is not truly interested. He often does not recall or realize the severity of what I say. He does remind me often that Grandpa wrote checks to me. Indeed he did.
Full of sorrow, and understanding my predicament, Grandpa saw the financial strain and the emotional toll. He connected to my struggle through my writings. I was stuck in a dead-end job. I hated the work. My employment had an effect on my health. I was grinding my teeth among other things. I could not afford to complete my degree. The duties in this mailroom were simple. I could complete the work with ease. I was often told the sorting station was never as clean and efficient. Still, I had to stay, sit for a nine-hour day.
To pass the time I penned my feelings, my frustration to Grandpa. Writing was then as it is now, my release. If I could not escape through food, and certainly while at work I could not, I wrote. My grandfather, after a time, I know not why for I would not ask, decided he would pay for my last year of college. He wanted me to have a degree, a piece of parchment, and a better sense of myself. Grandpa felt badly that Mommy, his daughter could not afford to assist me with my education. He did.
Years before that Grandpa gave much to me, Alexander is correct, although the giving was not cash. What grandfather Mitchell shared was of far greater value. My Grandfather came to visit Mommy, my father, and me. As a pharmacist, a scientist Mitchell trusted he could teach me how to better care for myself. Barry arranged for the transportation, and Grandpa with me in tow strolled into the American Association for Retired Persons pharmacy.
Together, for over an hour, we read every bottle. Grandpa Mitchell, my mentor explained the differences between one vitamin, mineral, or another. He discussed bonding agents and the pressure used to produce a pill. Capsules were considered, oils as well. A regime of supplements was created for me. I promised to take these nutrients when I awoke and before I lay my head to sleep. The pledge I made was to me. I was living with the benefits[consequences?] of bulimia. I longed to survive.
My hair was extremely thin and brittle. What was once thick and wavy was now thin and straight. The teeth that once glistened turned gray. Smooth skin was cracked and dry. Fingernails were brittle. When I scratched the dry surface of my flesh, bumps would rise. These tiny welts filled with blood; it took days before they disappeared. My young face was weathered and aging quickly. While I dressed well, I truly cared for and about my clothes, a close evaluation would reveal, I was not a pretty sight.
Nonetheless, Alexander never knew this. He did not see me, feel me, or understand my pain. Nor did he converse or come to spend a moment with Mommy. Alexander only heard of what is easier to speak of, the money. Grandpa shared stories of woe, not mine per se, his own. That is what we all do. We only know what is within us.
Alexander trusted my grandfather was concerned; however, Mitchell did not mention what he observed or understood. That would be too difficult. Much like Douglas, Grandpa Mitchell expressed his fear, not his love. Caring was too painful.
My cousin only related to the cute little girl I once was. That was his knowledge and understanding. Sadly, it still is.
Over the years, much to my Mom's dismay, I developed a relationship with Alexander. He never knew that I was hospitalized for days at a time. He was certain I was not placed in a program. Cousin Alex did not sense I was near death on more than one occasion. I was placed on a machine. Feeding was intravenous.
Alexander was [and is today] unaware. He did not [and does not] understand how Mommy felt. He could not comprehend nor will he. As we spoke, after my conversation with Douglas, Alexander declared he knows what he knows. My cousin refused to listen to my narrative.
My cousin did not and does not experience my Mom as she was. When I was detained in a medical facility, Mommy was never able to visit me. Physically she was capable; emotionally, she could not endure the pain. She tried once. I happened to be in a hospital affiliated with her work. She was there to meet with a patient and felt she could not leave without seeing me.
Mommy entered the room, sat on my bed, and we chatted. Each of us tried to communicate as we always had and did when I was not expelling food before I digested it. However, it was too hard for her. I could see the tears forming and before they gently fell down her face. She excused herself. She was flooded with emotions. Oh, Mommy, I am sooooooo sorry.
Alexander assumed much and apparently still does. He knows that he and Grandpa lived a block away from each other. They were friends; although I often wonder. When one, or both persons in a relationship share some information, and never fully deliberate, how intimate and whole might the rapport be. Nonetheless, the two were "close."
Each time my grandfather spoke of gifting money to my Mom or me, Alexander decided the sums were large and an unwanted load for my Mom's father. Cousin Alex does not recall what my Grandpa taught me, or does not make the connection for I shared the parable many times. "No one does something they do not really want to do."
After a time when Grandpa gave me two hundred and eighty nine dollars to travel, I thanked him profusely, for months. I could not resolve within myself how generous a gift he bestowed. Then, one-day grandfather Mitchell said to me, I would not have given you the money had I not wanted to. You need not continually thank me. He shared his now famous adage. Slowly, I learned. This lesson is about far more than money.
Nonetheless, Alexander remains stalwart, doing diligence over the dollars. I discovered this only days ago. As much as Alexander cherishes my Mom and I, he resents us. Alexander believes he has the specifics. For him there is nothing further to discuss.
My cousin believes my bulimia was a financial burden far beyond what it was. He thinks my Mom borrowed money and never repaid it. Grandpa disinherited his own daughter and sacrificed for his granddaughter. He brusquely said to me, "Ask your sister." I did. I discovered that my elder sibling understands as I do. The details of that I will save for another time. I told Alexander, in part of the exchange with my sister. Alexander refuses to hear the rest of the story. Bitterness becomes him. It must, for he has chosen to live with it for all these years.
Perhaps, that is the truer crisis. Bulimia breeds contempt. As the person afflicted purges in an attempt to escape feeling, the feelings flourish. They envelop everyone. Authentic communication ends. At times, we cannot be sure it will come again. The illness has a profound effect on the individual. It is as a heavy stone falling into a pond. The ripples travel. All are touched.
So much is shoved out of sight. Embarrassment causes the bulimic and her family to hide their emotions. There is much harm done to every one. People do not speak; they do not wish to see what is painful and true. Tales are told. Everyone wishes to appear excellent, exalted, and above it all. Yet, friends, family, familiars are all brought down. The spiral spins out of control.
Thankfully, it need not be. Douglas shared my writings with his sister. They had a lengthy conversation. Tears and fears were placed out in the open. Until, I told my truth, Douglas never understood how his sister Sarah struggles. He thought his sibling was concerned about her weight. This brilliant and munificent gentle man could not imagine why the healthy woman he knows and loves would do as she does.
It was only days ago he discovered, each night she cries herself to sleep thinking tomorrow, I will not do this. Yes, I remember; I did the same. This evening I told my father what Douglas shared. Barry asked was that true? He never knew. My father did not imagine my daily distress. I can barely phantom his sorrow.
As we reflected, Barry avowed, "Ultimately I trusted your sense of yourself and your evolving being. Mommy and I often talked about what we could do. Your health and well being was on our minds." I trust it still is. I feel it in Barry's musings. I sense it in my soul.
Each day and evening I think about Mommy's anguish. The despair my Mom felt, and may still feel, fills my heart. She has passed and I cannot inquire, Yet, I accept I cannot experience a fraction of the pain as she did, has, and sadly, may still .
Alexander, oh were he to speak of the unspeakable; what might we resolve.
Douglas and Sarah, I love you both. You give me hope. I wish to bequeath to you both hugs, kisses, and pleasant dreams. I have faith; tomorrow will come and good health will be yours.
Dear reader, you may wish to peruse Chapters One through Six, of my life as an anorexic, bulimic, a person. Please do.
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Posted by Betsy L. Angert on May 14, 2007 at 11:41 PM in "Take me as I am!", Anorexia Nervosa, Being, Becoming, Bulimia, Compassion, Conflict, Complex, Eating Disorders or Habits, Emotional Decisions, Emotional Intelligence, Empathy and Evolution, Fear, Health, Heartbreak, Heartache, Humans, Self-Destructive, Life, A Forward Motion, Looking at Life, Personal, Quality of Life, When Will I Be Right? | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
We Are All Born Free and Equal. We Have Rights.
Youth For Human Rights - We Are All Born Free & Equal
© copyright 2007 Betsy L. Angert. BeThink.org
This tiny introductory treatise is written as an apology. Belatedly, I was informed that, unintentionally, and might I add unknowingly, I penned a persuasive piece that advances the cause of an "applied religious philosophy." After viewing the most glorious video presentation, I inscribed what was thought to be a global truth; "We all have rights, equally." I still endorse that message; however, I do not embrace the practices or philosophies of an organization that on occasions is divisive. Sadly, I experience most assemblages are.
I am a very spiritual soul. I trust that man is basically good. For me, there is no sin, only a slow evolution. As we walk on our life path we error, repeatedly, and frequently. However, humans have the capacity to learn. That is our blessing. As we travel the planet and experience a physical existence, we realize there is more. Earth is as a school. We are here to study. We reflect. We ask ourselves, what have we done. What will our actions cause? Ultimately, we understand that we can change what comes and what will be. Free will follows us and leads us on this journey.
As a pious person, I am overwhelmed by the duplicity of organized religion. People of one religious faith or another war and have for centuries. I do not understand this. Rigid religious affiliations are not mine.
After ample research, I have come to believe that all religions value similar "truths." Honor, love, respect, peace among men is the foundation of every faith. Yet, nevertheless, people battle. They have for centuries. It seems few if any flock is exempt.
Some conflicts ignite solely on the basis of religious differences. Much of what we witness in parts of the Middle East can be correlated to differences among congregations. One faction or another will fight to the death for their idea of the ideal, G-d. People pose as though they are holier than thou.
My belief is religious "realities" are neither right, nor reasonable; these traditions rely on our ability to suspend belief. Blind faith in an external force determines what congregations think.
Alas, religion is not the only source of derision. Race, ethnicity, creed, hair color, age, body type, even food choices divide us. I am often slammed and damned for I do not eat meat.
Nonetheless, I submit to you the essay that prompted a sorrowful reflection. My intent to was not promote a way of life or advance a particular "applied religious philosophy." I genuinely hoped to further the assurance "All men are created equal." My desire continues. Perhaps we can communicate a message of love without religious convictions.
Please ponder; reflect upon the paradox. As humans, we agree; we are born free and equal. We each have rights. Love, peace, parity among [wo]men is vital. Yet, we argue. We are split. We divide.
May we contemplate the concept and honor as we claim to believe. I present the original observation . . .
Consider the times you saw an individual. You observed the image he or she presented. Then they spoke seriously. This being shared his or her soul, their life story. Their words wowed you. They warmed your heart. The spoken language clarified, it corrected a misimpression. Your heart and mind opened. What you thought you knew was not as it appeared to be.
In this production, the gentle language helps us to remember the innate longing for equality. The reflective nature encourages conscious thought. We cannot avoid what we know. Throughout the globe, we witness injustice, and there is no reason for such divisiveness.
We are born innocent, without hatred or bigotry. However, we learn.
As our faces age and harden, so too do our hearts. Naiveté is fleeting. Purity fades too fast. Goodness does not leave our body; the flood of hurts cause great harm. We forget. Virtue is still within. Might we discover it again through empathy.
We are all born free, equal among men, women, and children. Each of us has rights, for we exist. Dignity is due to us all.
Please embrace the avowal and the endeavors of Youth For Human Rights International. My hope is their mission will be ours. Worldwide and individually, we will actively acknowledge the value of every entity.
In my family voices were not raised loudly. Slight tonal changes spoke volumes. A look could cut through the skin. When my Mom felt hurt, she made this known. She voiced the statement, "I have rights." We all do. Yet, at times these are denied us.
Do you know what Human Rights are?Every person is entitled to certain rights – simply by the fact that they are a human being. They are "rights" because they are things you are allowed to be, to do, or to have. These rights are there for your protection against people who might want to harm or hurt you. They are also there to help us get along with each other and live in peace.
Many people know something about their rights. They know they have a right to be paid for the work they do and they have a right to vote. But there exist many other rights.
When human rights are not well known by people, abuses such as discrimination, intolerance, injustice, oppression, and slavery can arise.
Born out of the atrocities and enormous loss of life during World War II, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was created by the United Nations to provide a common understanding of what everyone’s rights are. It forms the basis for a world built on freedom, justice, and peace.
Another righteous soul might react in a manner that suggests they are superior. Their behaviors seem sanctimonious. Often, this smug attitude is a reflection of fear; nevertheless, such an approach creates havoc. People are hurt. Relationships are harmed. Often, these do not recover.
When we witness contempt, or recognize that we are engaging in a way that disrespects another, we must recall, "What we do unto others will be done unto us."
Human rights, civil rights must be granted to us all if we are to live in peace and harmony. Wars do not just happen people start them. If I aggress against my brethren, I can expect he will attack me.
Poverty is not a given; it is a man-made construct. Man learns to set limits. If I hoard, I ignore the needs of my fellow man. If I hold on too tightly to all that is mine, I can gather no more. My hands are full; I do not have the capacity to grasp what is beyond.
Discrimination is deliberate. I choose to determine whether race, sex, religion, or status matters.
Please be aware of what you, he, she, I, or we cause. Consider what you, he, she, I, or we create when we do not honor every human being equally. Look upon your brother and your sister as a child would before they learn to hate. They have a right to be, just as you, I, or we do.
Posted by Betsy L. Angert on May 12, 2007 at 12:10 AM in "Take me as I am!", Civil Rights, Human Nature, Humans, Self-Destructive, Looking at Life, Philosophy, Quality of Life, Rights and Rules | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
