There is a "Martial Arts Studio" near my work, in the same shopping center I do most of my grocery procurement in, and in the window, in big bold letters, is a sign that says "Defeat the bully without fighting." Do-whaa-huh?! was my intelligent and well-reasoned response to that, followed closely by a sudden understanding and a patronizing chuckle. After seeing this sign a while back, I started looking for others. I realized that there were an awful lot of kid-oriented martial arts places, and they all have some variation on this theme plastered over their windows, vans, brochures, fliers, billboards, and custom t-shirts.
I think I understand where this insanity comes from, and it's not pretty. It comes from that whole "violence never solved anything" mantra that is so popular, especially these days. All evidence to the contrary, Suburbanite moms really want to believe they can talk their way out of conflicts, and that their children can, too! To them, there is nothing martial about "martial arts." It's just about exercise and discipline and white uniforms that have to be bleached every week.
Anyone who's been bullied knows that the best way to deal with said bully is to fight the hell back. Fight hard, and make it not worth the little snot's pain and energy to keep coming after you. Honestly, I just think most women don't really understand kids, certainly not boy children. Yes, yes I did just say that. Bring it.
When girls start to become teenagers, they stop physically fighting (most of the time, anyway), and start going psychological. And since psychological bullying is fought with words, they sort of assume that ALL bullying can be fought the same way.
Men are at least honest. They know they don't understand girls and don't pretend to, but women seem to think that the ability to successfully gestate and expel small, screaming balls of flesh imbues with special powers which allow them to understand and relate to all children. Sorry...no, it does not. You do not have special powers. You do not understand boys any better than men understand girls. Deal with it.
Anyway, back to the whole bully thing. Suburban mommies want their little boys to have a safe place to work off all that pesky energy, preferably near a nail or hair salon and a Starbucks. But they do not want their little boys to be all rough and violent the way little boys are. They certainly don't want to see their children learning how to fight. That's just...uncivilized. Then they wonder why their teenage boys are whiny little wimps.
To make a very long-winded post very short, I will end this by saying that I believe that over-protective soccer moms are the reason "Emo" exists. Emo is not the product of manly men, at least.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Good Kids
I realized I haven't talked about any of my good kids. And there have been many. One student in particular, Reginald, is probably my favorite student. You know you're not supposed to have favorites, but you always do.
Reginald looks like a young, sober Eric Clapton. He is a sweet, kind, quiet kid who loves music. He is a big fan of classic rock. He and I have had many time-wasting discussions on bands that most of his contemporaries have never even heard of. Great kid. The only negative thing I can say about young Reginald is that he never remembers to bring pencil or paper. But it's almost a joke at this point.
The problem is that good people just aren't that interesting to talk about. All of the really interesting stuff is BAD. Good kids don't cause conflicts that make you sit forward in your chair and mutter "you gotta be KIDDING me!" as you read.
Good kids are good in a thousand tiny ways. They show up on time with a smile and ask you how YOU are after you ask them. They care. They remember that you're a human being. And those are things that are hard to describe. It's a vibe.
Bad kids are easy to talk about. You can tell someone about the outrageous things they do. You can talk about the snide remarks and rude faces. It's a lot harder to describe the calm, sweet face of a good girl pulling her book towards her, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she tries to understand a particularly difficult passage. It's harder to explain the satisfaction you draw from a teen like Reginald saying "wait, don't tell me. I think I can...I got it!" And then you get to see that yes, he DOES got it. And good for him for not wanting help. That's harder to explain. As is evidenced by how hard it is for me to find the words to write this post.
Good is not the absence of bad. Good is the intentional application of principles. Good isn't avoiding causing pain, hurt, or frustration. Good is about TRYING to cause happiness, peace, and harmony. Good is not a default position.
Most of us want to believe that humans are basically good. We want to believe that only a few outliers are cruel, heartless, mean-spirited, or just thoughtless. We know this isn't true. We know that most people are all of those things, but we don't want to believe it. It's a hard thing to accept. Especially if good is your default mode now. But that wasn't the way you were born. It's the way you were MADE. Your mind was molded, intentionally or otherwise, into one that believes in being good. We're all born selfish, greedy, and thoughtless. We're born bad. Good takes work.
I am grateful for the good kids. They make this job doable. They keep you coming back. I am grateful most of all to their parents, who taught them to be good. Who molded the hearts and minds of their children with an understanding of right and wrong. I think it's easy to dismiss small things, and I'm grateful to the parents who didn't. To the parents who see their child angrily hit something--however ineffectually--and recognize the seeds of rage in their child. I am grateful to them that train those impulses out of their kids. They are good parents, and their children do not annoy me. They give me hope for the future.
I stumbled across something today that gave me pause. Ok, that's the wrong word. The creeping horrors is better. Retching dry heaves and sobs also work. It was a description of the WWII-era Unit 731. I will not describe it in detail, because I don't think I could handle it myself, and would not subject my gentle readers to it, either. But know that the Nazis had nothing on Japan's 731. The horrors described in the two paragraphs I read made me weep. I cannot imagine the kind of upbringing necessary to make someone think it is OK to torture, truly torture, people. I cannot fathom it.
I am generally non-political here, but I will tell you that when I read the descriptions of torture instruments and methods used by 731, the Nazis, the Inquisitors, and others, I can tell you that the interrogation techniques allowed by the Geneva Conventions which have been used by the US, the UK, and others doesn't come close, and to equate the kinds of things done true torture to that is just...well, it's at once laughable and tragic.
I fear for the fate of people who were raised in a culture that would allow true torture. I fear for them and I wonder what has to happen to create that kind of depravity of soul such that the monsters of Unit 731 were never considered criminals or monsters, and were left to live their lives, even to profit from their government-sanctioned work of horror and terror. Did those people go on to have and raise children? What were those children like? Were they raised to be polite? Were they monsters hiding behind placid faces and nice words? Or were they somehow able to become good despite being borne of monsters? It's a conundrum, to be sure.
No matter what, I am glad for the children that I work with here who were raised well, and are good, sweet children in their souls. I am much less concerned with whether they are smart or well-prepared for the day than I am with whether or not they exude love or hate.
Reginald looks like a young, sober Eric Clapton. He is a sweet, kind, quiet kid who loves music. He is a big fan of classic rock. He and I have had many time-wasting discussions on bands that most of his contemporaries have never even heard of. Great kid. The only negative thing I can say about young Reginald is that he never remembers to bring pencil or paper. But it's almost a joke at this point.
The problem is that good people just aren't that interesting to talk about. All of the really interesting stuff is BAD. Good kids don't cause conflicts that make you sit forward in your chair and mutter "you gotta be KIDDING me!" as you read.
Good kids are good in a thousand tiny ways. They show up on time with a smile and ask you how YOU are after you ask them. They care. They remember that you're a human being. And those are things that are hard to describe. It's a vibe.
Bad kids are easy to talk about. You can tell someone about the outrageous things they do. You can talk about the snide remarks and rude faces. It's a lot harder to describe the calm, sweet face of a good girl pulling her book towards her, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she tries to understand a particularly difficult passage. It's harder to explain the satisfaction you draw from a teen like Reginald saying "wait, don't tell me. I think I can...I got it!" And then you get to see that yes, he DOES got it. And good for him for not wanting help. That's harder to explain. As is evidenced by how hard it is for me to find the words to write this post.
Good is not the absence of bad. Good is the intentional application of principles. Good isn't avoiding causing pain, hurt, or frustration. Good is about TRYING to cause happiness, peace, and harmony. Good is not a default position.
Most of us want to believe that humans are basically good. We want to believe that only a few outliers are cruel, heartless, mean-spirited, or just thoughtless. We know this isn't true. We know that most people are all of those things, but we don't want to believe it. It's a hard thing to accept. Especially if good is your default mode now. But that wasn't the way you were born. It's the way you were MADE. Your mind was molded, intentionally or otherwise, into one that believes in being good. We're all born selfish, greedy, and thoughtless. We're born bad. Good takes work.
I am grateful for the good kids. They make this job doable. They keep you coming back. I am grateful most of all to their parents, who taught them to be good. Who molded the hearts and minds of their children with an understanding of right and wrong. I think it's easy to dismiss small things, and I'm grateful to the parents who didn't. To the parents who see their child angrily hit something--however ineffectually--and recognize the seeds of rage in their child. I am grateful to them that train those impulses out of their kids. They are good parents, and their children do not annoy me. They give me hope for the future.
I stumbled across something today that gave me pause. Ok, that's the wrong word. The creeping horrors is better. Retching dry heaves and sobs also work. It was a description of the WWII-era Unit 731. I will not describe it in detail, because I don't think I could handle it myself, and would not subject my gentle readers to it, either. But know that the Nazis had nothing on Japan's 731. The horrors described in the two paragraphs I read made me weep. I cannot imagine the kind of upbringing necessary to make someone think it is OK to torture, truly torture, people. I cannot fathom it.
I am generally non-political here, but I will tell you that when I read the descriptions of torture instruments and methods used by 731, the Nazis, the Inquisitors, and others, I can tell you that the interrogation techniques allowed by the Geneva Conventions which have been used by the US, the UK, and others doesn't come close, and to equate the kinds of things done true torture to that is just...well, it's at once laughable and tragic.
I fear for the fate of people who were raised in a culture that would allow true torture. I fear for them and I wonder what has to happen to create that kind of depravity of soul such that the monsters of Unit 731 were never considered criminals or monsters, and were left to live their lives, even to profit from their government-sanctioned work of horror and terror. Did those people go on to have and raise children? What were those children like? Were they raised to be polite? Were they monsters hiding behind placid faces and nice words? Or were they somehow able to become good despite being borne of monsters? It's a conundrum, to be sure.
No matter what, I am glad for the children that I work with here who were raised well, and are good, sweet children in their souls. I am much less concerned with whether they are smart or well-prepared for the day than I am with whether or not they exude love or hate.
Monday, June 1, 2009
How To Not Get Hired
So, you're being required to look for a job, but you really don't want one? You looking for a good way to make damn sure no one hires you? Here are some helpful hints:
1. Smell Funny.
Seriously! Nothing will drive away potential bosses faster than you coming in smelling like you've been snuggling with pissed off skunks in a pile of pig manure while burning patchouli.
2. Be Uninformed.
You're looking for a job as a daycare teacher, so of course you're going to come to a by-the-hour private pay tutoring center! Good job!
3. Dress Badly.
Please, come in to meet the people you don't want to hire you in booty shorts, a dirty tank top, and sporting plenty of facial jewelry. Bonus points on the booty shorts if you're male and...excited. That will definitely send off those "don't hire me, I'm a pedophile" vibes you want.
4. Slang It Up.
If your goal is to avoid getting a job teaching children to read and write English, make sure to drop all of your definite articles, use lots of bad language, and talk like you've got oatmeal in your mouth!
5. Ignore the Needs of the Boss.
So, the boss tells you that she'd love to talk to you, but she only has five minutes right now? No problem! Take a nice deep breath and go for that ten-minute soliloquy. It works like a charm. Make sure you avoid eye contact, talk over the Boss when she tries to interrupt you, and remember that nervous body language is what you really want.
6. Encroach on Personal Space.
Nothing says "Do Not Hire" quite like sidling up to someone who is doing everything up to screaming "STRANGER DANGER!" Those steps backwards and crossed arms really mean "break through my walls, it's sexy!"
7. Insult the Boss.
When everything else fails, make sure that you say rude things to the person who might be inclined to hire you. Make sure she knows that YOU are the world's authority on every subject and that you will not bow to lesser intellects.
That's a good start, I think. Just remember, these seven simple steps can keep you safely out of the workforce and collecting unemployment benefits, where you know you want to be.
1. Smell Funny.
Seriously! Nothing will drive away potential bosses faster than you coming in smelling like you've been snuggling with pissed off skunks in a pile of pig manure while burning patchouli.
2. Be Uninformed.
You're looking for a job as a daycare teacher, so of course you're going to come to a by-the-hour private pay tutoring center! Good job!
3. Dress Badly.
Please, come in to meet the people you don't want to hire you in booty shorts, a dirty tank top, and sporting plenty of facial jewelry. Bonus points on the booty shorts if you're male and...excited. That will definitely send off those "don't hire me, I'm a pedophile" vibes you want.
4. Slang It Up.
If your goal is to avoid getting a job teaching children to read and write English, make sure to drop all of your definite articles, use lots of bad language, and talk like you've got oatmeal in your mouth!
5. Ignore the Needs of the Boss.
So, the boss tells you that she'd love to talk to you, but she only has five minutes right now? No problem! Take a nice deep breath and go for that ten-minute soliloquy. It works like a charm. Make sure you avoid eye contact, talk over the Boss when she tries to interrupt you, and remember that nervous body language is what you really want.
6. Encroach on Personal Space.
Nothing says "Do Not Hire" quite like sidling up to someone who is doing everything up to screaming "STRANGER DANGER!" Those steps backwards and crossed arms really mean "break through my walls, it's sexy!"
7. Insult the Boss.
When everything else fails, make sure that you say rude things to the person who might be inclined to hire you. Make sure she knows that YOU are the world's authority on every subject and that you will not bow to lesser intellects.
That's a good start, I think. Just remember, these seven simple steps can keep you safely out of the workforce and collecting unemployment benefits, where you know you want to be.
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