Well-Adjusted?

• I opened this book again yesterday. It is one of my favorite books on parenting that I have ever read. The book is titled "Liberated Parents, Liberated Children" by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish and it was written over 35 years ago in 1974. I can't remember where I got the book probably on the dusty shelf of some thrift shop as I have a habit of encountering important books in the most unlikely places.

  Today, I’d like to share a short but important excerpt from the book...the scene
  comes from a parenting class that Dr. Ginott is teaching.

  "Dr. Ginott listened quietly to these comments, and then posed this question:

  What is our major goal as parents?

  Someone ventured, "To improve parent-child relationships."

  Another said, "To find better ways of communicating with our children."

  Still another woman glibly said, "To produce children who are among other things, brilliant, polite, charming, neat, and well-adjusted of course."

  Dr. Ginott looked solemn. It was obvious that this last comment had not amused him.

  He leaned forward and said, "This is how I see it. It seems to me that our large goal is to find the ways to help our children become humane and strong."

  "For what does it profit us if we have a neat, polite, charming youngster who could watch people suffer and not be moved to take action?"

  "What have we accomplished if we have reared a child who is brilliant-at the top of his class-but who uses his intellect to manipulate others?"

  "And do we really want children so well-adjusted that they adjust to an unjust situation? The Germans adjusted only too well to the orders of the Nazis to exterminate millions of their fellow men."

  "Understand me: I'm not opposed to a child being polite or neat or learned.  The crucial question for me is: What methods have been used to accomplish these ends? If the methods used are insults, attacks, and threats, then we can be very sure that we have also taught this child to insult, to attack, and to comply when threatened."

  "If, on the other hand, we use methods that are humane, then we've taught something much more than a series of isolated virtues. We've shown the child how to be a person- a mensch- a human being who can conduct his life with strength and dignity."

  We are the last industrialized nation that has yet to ban corporal punishment in schools. Are we also the next nation to raise a generation of Nazis? In all of the wars that the United States has been involved in how many people have we murdered already? Is it any wonder? I will not only contend that we are raising our children to be violent perpetrators of unspeakable crimes against humanity, I believe that we ourselves are the product of this violent upbringing and our nation has been acting out that violence since we first arrived here.

  Both of my own parents were born and raised in Germany and they brought the values they learned with them to the United States...but Germany itself is evolving. It banned school corporal punishment completely in 1983.

  Are we, the American people, so well adjusted that we have adjusted to an unjust situation? Situations? What other situations will we adjust to in the future?

  I have personally reached out to thousands of people over the last year and a half concerning the suffering of children at the hands of school corporal punishment (typically the striking of a child on their backside with a heavy wooden board fashioned with a handle) and I can literally count with
  my own fingers on only one hand the number of people who have been moved to action. What does that tell you?

  Here's the deal...it's time to face our violent tendencies to inflict pain and humiliation on innocent children. It's time for the U.S to stop manipulating people and other countries for its own selfish ends. Is this country in grave danger of being the next human mass exterminator? Or have we already achieved that status?

  I believe we have albeit in a more subtle way. U.S. foreign economic policies for instance are responsible in many ways for the systematic starving of millions of people including children. Recent drone attacks that claim to target terrorists have also been revealed to kill women and children in their path without the least bit of concern or remorse. The list of casualties due to the actions of our country are grotesquely numerous.

  If we don't make some changes, starting with how we raise our children, it's only going to get worse. Isn't it bad enough already? What are we waiting for?

  Parents and educators need to get on board and change their ways. Not only has the information  been around long enough but thanks to the internet the information is readily available at the click of a button. It’s long been said that the children are the future. What kind of future do you want? One where we continue to regard our planet and human life as dispensable or one where
  all beings are treated kindly, compassionately, and with concern for others?

  If we want a better world, the place to start is by treating our children better and that means NO MORE HITTING THEM.

  
  

I HAVE A DREAM...My version...In honor of...Martin Luther King

20 US states and its territories allow teachers to beat the children in their care.  The primary targets are black boys, black girls, Latinos, Native Americans, white low-income students, those having autism, cognitive delays and physical disabilities.

What would Martin Luther King have said?  Maybe his speech would have gone something like this.


I Have a Dream

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred and forty seven years later, the school child still is not free. One hundred and forty seven years later, the life of the minority school child is still sadly crippled by the manacles of injustice and the chains of discrimination. One hundred and forty seven years later, the minority school child lives on a lonely island of emotional poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred and forty seven years later, the minority school child is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all citizens, yes, adult citizens as well as young citizens, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of minority school children are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the minority school children a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of emotional and physical school abuse to the sunlit path of  justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of discriminate injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of  America's school children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the child's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Two thousand and eleven is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the minority school children needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the school child is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed outraged parents and students must not lead us to a distrust of all educators, for many of our educators, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as any school child is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of educator brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of being beaten with a wooden board, cannot gain physical safety in the schools of the land and the schools of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the minority school child's basic mobility is from a larger paddle to a smaller one.

We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by paddles hanging on the classroom walls. We cannot be satisfied as long as a minority students in Mississippi cannot be free of being beaten like a slave and a student in New York believes that this practice was outlawed years ago. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from being bent over and beaten in your principals office. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of teacher brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all school children are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the minority school children and the sadistic paddle wielding educators will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be beaten in school but will be treated with kindness and respect.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious educators, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls and all students will be able to go to school without being afraid of an educator swinging a wooden board.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to detention together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of America's minority school children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black children and white children, Hispanic and poor children, disabled and persecuted children, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

I first revised this speech and posted it on this blog over two years ago now on 1/16/11.  I'm saddened to know that the beatings continue and still no relief in sight for the children being battered in U.S. Public Schools by their ruthless so-called educators. If they are indeed educating children in anything it is violence and little else.

If it doesn't look like this, something's WRONG! A Vision for Educators Everywhere!

Written in honor of my friend Paula Flowe of thehittingstopshere.com.
 A look into how teachers should behave in school classrooms.

My New Teacher

We have a new teacher. We don't know what happened to our old one. My mom said she probably got sick because people who are always grumpy often do. My old teacher had a paddle that she hit kids with who didn't follow her rules. I won't miss her. She was scary.

My new teacher is cool. Her name is Paula so we call her Miss Paula. She is very pretty and must be very happy because she smiles all time. The first time we met her she took the paddle off the hook by the door and tossed it in the garbage. She says we are going to be good friends and that good friends are always nice to each other.

Miss Paula has been teaching us a lot of things. Some of us used to get in trouble for talking in the hallway. Mrs. Paula says she can't change the rule that we can't make noise in the hallway but we can still talk to each other. She is teaching us sign language. I already know how to say hello and how are you with my hands. Now we love it when we have to walk somewhere and we are always quiet except for a giggle or two.

Miss Paula likes everybody even Sam and nobody likes Sam. Sam is a bad boy. He was always getting whooped by our old teacher. He never does what he's told but now he is doing better. Miss Paula says every single one of us is perfect and beautiful just the way we are so I guess that includes Sam. Today she showed Sam how to draw pictures on the blackboard using colored chalk and we used his picture to figure out a math problem. Sam can actually draw pretty good.

This week at school was really the best ever. I didn't even get yelled at when I thought I would because I spilled milk on my homework and had to turn it in still wet. Miss Paula just smiled and asked "What's this?" so I told her what happened. Then we figured out a plan that I would leave the milk on the kitchen counter and do my homework on the kitchen table. If I get thirsty from now on I will just take a break to drink something and then get back to my homework. My old teacher would have just ripped it up and made me do it over. (I know. It's happened to me before.) Miss Paula put it near the window to dry. She said the sun had been waiting for such an important job as this and would be happy to help us.

Well, I have to go and get ready for bed now. I have school in the morning and I want to wake up early so I will have time to pick Miss Paula some flowers. See you later.

EVEN IF IT LOOKS LIKE THIS, SOMETHING IS STILL WRONG

My New Teacher

We have a new teacher. We don't know what happened to our old one. My mom said she probably got sick because people who are always grumpy often do. My old teacher used to snap at us and take away 5 minutes of our recess when we didn't follow her rules. I won't miss her. She was scary.

My new teacher is cool. Her name is Paula so we call her Miss Paula. She is very pretty and must be very happy because she smiles all time. The first time we met her she said she was getting rid of the time out policy and would never snap at us. She says we are going to be good friends and that good friends are always nice to each other.

Miss Paula has been teaching us a lot of things. Some of us used to get in trouble for talking in the hallway. Mrs. Paula says she can't change the rule that we can't make noise in the hallway but we can still talk to each other. She is teaching us sign language. I already know how to say hello and how are you with my hands. Now we love it when we have to walk somewhere and we are always quiet except for a giggle or two.

Miss Paula likes everybody even Sam and nobody likes Sam. Sam is a bad boy. He was always getting sentenced to the quiet table during lunch by our old teacher. He never does what he's told but now he is doing better. Miss Paula says every single one of us is perfect and beautiful just the way we are so I guess that includes Sam. Today she showed Sam how to draw pictures on the blackboard using colored chalk and we used his picture to figure out a math problem. Sam can actually draw pretty good.

This week at school was really the best ever. I didn't even get in trouble when I thought I would because I spilled milk on my homework and had to turn it in still wet. Miss Paula just smiled and asked "What's this?" so I told her what happened. Then we figured out a plan that I would leave the milk on the kitchen counter and do my homework on the kitchen table. If I get thirsty from now on I will just take a break to drink something and then get back to my homework. My old teacher would have just ripped it up and made me do it over. (I know. It's happened to me before.) Miss Paula put it near the window to dry. She said the sun had been waiting for such an important job as this and would be happy to help us.

Well, I have to go and get ready for bed now. I have school in the morning and I want to wake up early so I will have time to pick Miss Paula some flowers. See you later.

Corporal Punishment ? What's that?

Several years have passed now since I uttered those words.  We, my mother, my youngest son Nicki and I, were relaxing in our newly purchased farm house in North Central Arkansas while my two oldest children were away learning at their new school.  I don't know why but for some reason Grandma had found one of the new school handbooks that we received over a month earlier.  I had signed a form stating that I had received them but not expecting to find anything out of the ordinary had flipped through them for a minute or two and stuck them in a pile of assorted mail and papers on the kitchen counter.  

The time was December of 2009 and we were anxiously awaiting the start of Christmas vacation.  Outside the weather was bitter cold and the property which was surrounded now by almost bare trees seemed so peaceful it almost had a holy quality to it. Inside we had a nice warm fire in the wood-stove and the smell of cinnamon from a freshly brewed pot of gourmet coffee. Country living at it's finest we might have mused that day having just relocated from the suburbs of Dallas, Texas the month before but all that was about to change.

Suddenly out of the blue, Grandma who had been sitting at the kitchen table reading something says to me, "Do you know that they have corporal punishment at the school?"  Not being familiar with the term nor ever having been exposed to even the idea of it, I looked up and replied "what's that?" 

"It's paddling" she tells me.

"What?  What do you mean?" I say, apparently not yet believing it even existed.

"They paddle at the school.  You know when the kids get in trouble?  They can paddle them," she explains as my mood suddenly drops from one of contentment to one of shock.

" You've got to be kidding me?  Please tell me you are  joking!"

"I'm not.  I'm dead serious.  Come look.  It's right here in the handbook."

"Where?  Show me?" I say and then when I see it "No way,

oh my God!  That is just crazy!"  

Five minutes later I was on the phone with the school informing them that "I don't allow anyone or anything to hit my child."  I was told to just write a note stating that I didn't allow it and it will never be done to your child.  "We always contact the parents for permission to perform it" I was told.  "Perform?!" the word itself didn't seem to have any connection to what they were doing!  

Even so Christmas came and went and the moment seemed to pass.  Every now and then when I was at the school for whatever reason though an uneasiness, maybe it was a foretelling, tried to break through my awareness but I successfully ignored it until the issue would rear its ugly head at the start of the following school year.