If you pay attention to the news at all, you've no doubt at least heard about the video of the bus matron being verbally assaulted by teenagers on the school bus. While the ol' gal, I thought, handled herself pretty well...the little idiots did push her to tears. This is just sick. This lady is a mom and a grandmother. I wonder how those little turds would like their own mom or grandmother being treated that way?
This brings up the age old debate over child discipline. There's the "spare the rod and spoil the child" school of thought, and then there's everything else. I agree with "spare the rod....". While discussing this video today, I remembered my own upbringing.
As kids, we knew that if we were caught doing something bad, we were going to get in trouble. This usually meant getting whacked and possibly grounded. I never thought grounding was much of a deterrent. I mean really...my room is where all of my stuff was! Records,my stero, my own TV, my books, my smokes, my guitar...all in my room. Sure...punish me....make me stay home...in my room...with everything I enjoy! But the fear of being hit...that was a whole other story.
Given the choice, we'd have rather been hit by our mom. No...it's not that she was less deadly due to her size (a whopping 5' and maybe 120 pounds)...but we knew that if mom whacked us, it was WHAM, maybe followed by a BAM, and it was done. She got her point across. We would know that we'd screwed up big time and to not do it again. But dad, on the other hand, would give you a beating and follow it up with an hours long, rambling lecture. I mean really...how is a kid supposed to pay attention to a lecture when they're blubbering and taking a mental inventory of their own body parts, wondering if it is really possible to have one's butt broken? Either way...our parents did one helluva job disciplining us. None of this ever made me hate my parents. It never made me develop "trust issues" or any of that nonsense. What it did do, was instill in us a sense of right and wrong and actions having consequences.
While discussing this bus incident today, I was reminded of the last time my dear mum ever whacked me. I was about 12 or 13 years old. I had been getting mouthy and a bit big for my britches at the time; I do remember that. What I don't recall, was the actual crime I was accused of. Needless to say, I had either done something I wasn't supposed to or hadn't done something I was supposed to. Probably the latter. It probably involved yard work. (we had a huge yard and I seemed to have been granted the title Unofficial Caretaker of the Lawn From Hell) Anyway, it was a Saturday afternoon and I was sprawled out on the couch watching monster movies and napping. I was sleeping on my stomach. Mom was explosive that day. Having pushed her buttons one time too many for the day, she grabbed Dad's old fraternity pledge paddle (I swear that thing was 5 feet long and made of solid oak!) and came over to the couch, assumed the samurai position, and landed a serious THWACK right on my fat ass! I bounced up off of the couch and did the Barney Rubble mid-air run as mum reminded me of what I was supposed to be doing. To this day, I get a good laugh whenever I think about that incident. Sure there were others (like the time I knew I was going to get a spanking and stuck a plate down my pants....NOT my best idea ever!) but this particular incident has endeared itself to me. Our mum died when I was 13. I was already towering over her (one of the few people outside of Billy Barty or Danny De Vito that I've ever towered over) yet I loved, feared, and respected my mum. Still do. Our dad and I had a tumultuous relationship until I was in my late 20s. That was around the time that he and I realized that what we didn't like about the other was seeing ourselves there. We're a lot alike in a lot of ways. Lucky for me, I never felt the need to wear plaid flares. Dad did. Still an embarrassing thought.
Most of the folks that I know over the age of 30, had parents who disciplined the good ol' fashioned way! Using fear as a motivator. And trust me, it works! It's been the parenting style of choice for thousands of years. Sure, there's something to be said for reasoning with a child...provided your child is intelligent enough and capable to understand it. Children are just that; children. Their minds don't automatically develop. They need parents, and society as a whole, to help them learn. A parent's job is NOT to be their kid's best friend. The parent's job is to be the PARENT. Sure, that means making the tough decisions and having to be the bad guy from time to time. For some, it may mean being the bad guy ALL of the time! Let's face it, some kids are just rotten little shits.
I look at a lot of kids today and see messed up little individuals who well never amount to much...unless being cruel, mouthy dickheads with amazing gaming skills ever becomes a real profession. I'm not saying ALL kids are like this...but alas, too many are. Many folks blame society, or TV, or song lyrics, or movies. Well guess what? It's the parents' job to monitor ALL of that when it comes to their children. When I was a kid, we would watch some pretty violent war/crime movies with dad and he would always explain things to us. Mind you, dad also ruined Phantasm for me...explaining that there is no blood vessel in the head large enough to produce that amount of blood. Thanks dad. Really. One of my fave scenes from the movie...ruined by you and your damned medical school book learnin'!
I never got to be a full-time dad. I always thought I'd be good at it. I have been lucky enough, however, to help raise a number of kids. Some, to this day, consider me the only father figure they've ever known...and for that, I am grateful. They've all grown into wonderful young adults. Not a serial killer or hobo among them! I disciplined them the old fashioned way too. When possible, I would appeal to their intellect. Learning when to do which, I found, was the key.
Thinking back, my brother Bill and I may have been the only 2 of us kids to ever get hit by our grandmother. Bill, Lord only knows what he did...but me, I got mouthy. A life-long curse of mine. I often forget that people can hear my inner dialogue. Especially when I verbalize my inner dialogue.
I made some wise-crack that really riled Gram up. She taught me what old school really is! She sent me out to the yard to cut a switch. I came back with some wimpy little twig. That seemed to piss her off even more. She went out and came back with a sapling! She then lit me up with it! I'm 46 and still remember that! And I ALWAYS treated my grandmother with love and respect after that. And I still treat ALL women with respect, thanks to that.
Yes. Our parents did hit us from time to time. It didn't ruin any of us. It didn't turn us into whiners or sociopaths. It turned us into reasonably intelligent, caring, decent adults. When I see a lot of the kids today...I worry.
Spare the rod and spoil the child.
Beat On The Brat!!!!!!!!
This brings up the age old debate over child discipline. There's the "spare the rod and spoil the child" school of thought, and then there's everything else. I agree with "spare the rod....". While discussing this video today, I remembered my own upbringing.
As kids, we knew that if we were caught doing something bad, we were going to get in trouble. This usually meant getting whacked and possibly grounded. I never thought grounding was much of a deterrent. I mean really...my room is where all of my stuff was! Records,my stero, my own TV, my books, my smokes, my guitar...all in my room. Sure...punish me....make me stay home...in my room...with everything I enjoy! But the fear of being hit...that was a whole other story.
Given the choice, we'd have rather been hit by our mom. No...it's not that she was less deadly due to her size (a whopping 5' and maybe 120 pounds)...but we knew that if mom whacked us, it was WHAM, maybe followed by a BAM, and it was done. She got her point across. We would know that we'd screwed up big time and to not do it again. But dad, on the other hand, would give you a beating and follow it up with an hours long, rambling lecture. I mean really...how is a kid supposed to pay attention to a lecture when they're blubbering and taking a mental inventory of their own body parts, wondering if it is really possible to have one's butt broken? Either way...our parents did one helluva job disciplining us. None of this ever made me hate my parents. It never made me develop "trust issues" or any of that nonsense. What it did do, was instill in us a sense of right and wrong and actions having consequences.
While discussing this bus incident today, I was reminded of the last time my dear mum ever whacked me. I was about 12 or 13 years old. I had been getting mouthy and a bit big for my britches at the time; I do remember that. What I don't recall, was the actual crime I was accused of. Needless to say, I had either done something I wasn't supposed to or hadn't done something I was supposed to. Probably the latter. It probably involved yard work. (we had a huge yard and I seemed to have been granted the title Unofficial Caretaker of the Lawn From Hell) Anyway, it was a Saturday afternoon and I was sprawled out on the couch watching monster movies and napping. I was sleeping on my stomach. Mom was explosive that day. Having pushed her buttons one time too many for the day, she grabbed Dad's old fraternity pledge paddle (I swear that thing was 5 feet long and made of solid oak!) and came over to the couch, assumed the samurai position, and landed a serious THWACK right on my fat ass! I bounced up off of the couch and did the Barney Rubble mid-air run as mum reminded me of what I was supposed to be doing. To this day, I get a good laugh whenever I think about that incident. Sure there were others (like the time I knew I was going to get a spanking and stuck a plate down my pants....NOT my best idea ever!) but this particular incident has endeared itself to me. Our mum died when I was 13. I was already towering over her (one of the few people outside of Billy Barty or Danny De Vito that I've ever towered over) yet I loved, feared, and respected my mum. Still do. Our dad and I had a tumultuous relationship until I was in my late 20s. That was around the time that he and I realized that what we didn't like about the other was seeing ourselves there. We're a lot alike in a lot of ways. Lucky for me, I never felt the need to wear plaid flares. Dad did. Still an embarrassing thought.
Most of the folks that I know over the age of 30, had parents who disciplined the good ol' fashioned way! Using fear as a motivator. And trust me, it works! It's been the parenting style of choice for thousands of years. Sure, there's something to be said for reasoning with a child...provided your child is intelligent enough and capable to understand it. Children are just that; children. Their minds don't automatically develop. They need parents, and society as a whole, to help them learn. A parent's job is NOT to be their kid's best friend. The parent's job is to be the PARENT. Sure, that means making the tough decisions and having to be the bad guy from time to time. For some, it may mean being the bad guy ALL of the time! Let's face it, some kids are just rotten little shits.
I look at a lot of kids today and see messed up little individuals who well never amount to much...unless being cruel, mouthy dickheads with amazing gaming skills ever becomes a real profession. I'm not saying ALL kids are like this...but alas, too many are. Many folks blame society, or TV, or song lyrics, or movies. Well guess what? It's the parents' job to monitor ALL of that when it comes to their children. When I was a kid, we would watch some pretty violent war/crime movies with dad and he would always explain things to us. Mind you, dad also ruined Phantasm for me...explaining that there is no blood vessel in the head large enough to produce that amount of blood. Thanks dad. Really. One of my fave scenes from the movie...ruined by you and your damned medical school book learnin'!
I never got to be a full-time dad. I always thought I'd be good at it. I have been lucky enough, however, to help raise a number of kids. Some, to this day, consider me the only father figure they've ever known...and for that, I am grateful. They've all grown into wonderful young adults. Not a serial killer or hobo among them! I disciplined them the old fashioned way too. When possible, I would appeal to their intellect. Learning when to do which, I found, was the key.
Thinking back, my brother Bill and I may have been the only 2 of us kids to ever get hit by our grandmother. Bill, Lord only knows what he did...but me, I got mouthy. A life-long curse of mine. I often forget that people can hear my inner dialogue. Especially when I verbalize my inner dialogue.
I made some wise-crack that really riled Gram up. She taught me what old school really is! She sent me out to the yard to cut a switch. I came back with some wimpy little twig. That seemed to piss her off even more. She went out and came back with a sapling! She then lit me up with it! I'm 46 and still remember that! And I ALWAYS treated my grandmother with love and respect after that. And I still treat ALL women with respect, thanks to that.
Yes. Our parents did hit us from time to time. It didn't ruin any of us. It didn't turn us into whiners or sociopaths. It turned us into reasonably intelligent, caring, decent adults. When I see a lot of the kids today...I worry.
Spare the rod and spoil the child.
Beat On The Brat!!!!!!!!
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