Guiding and showing a child how to behave or just be are two different things; in both short stories, “The Most Powerful Question a Parent Can Ask…” by Neil Millar and “Be-ers and Doers” by Budge Wilson the way a parent guides their child into the behaviors that they want are so different that the outcome that both parents want; which is respect is only attained by one parent. For a child to respect their parents, a child must be guided and not showed or forced to the desired behavior of the parent(s).
During the short story “The Most Powerful Question a Parent Can Ask…” the concept of parenting is to guide the child to the desired behavior. When “you’re a loving parent striving to give your children the best life you can offer.” sometimes the light of the future outcome will be dimmed with the over whelming concept that a parent must coddle and do everything for their child. While a parent may “spend whatever time it takes to knock up their favorite food” and “[pick] up their dirty underwear from under the bed”, it is evident that the author is trying to get the real message across to parents across the world. STOP CODDLING YOUR CHILD!! When a parent takes the firs step into “[raising]
well-rounded, confident, considerate children” the parent must not get distracted with what today’s society is telling them. Today’s society tells a parent that everything must be a life lesson and that bring up your child with discipline means that your child will end up in therapy for years to come. But what parents are not seeing is that both ways of ‘discipline’, whether it is too rough or no discipline at all is wrong. A parent must meet in the middle and realize that no child is going to respect their elders if they are smacked around or if they are allowed to say whatever they want and act in a disrespectful manner. By praising a child that does a desired behavior, the child soon realizes that to get the love and attention that it wants; it has to act and present itself in a certain way. The child will respect others, showing initiative, and portraying responsibility when they know what is required of them and are given the opportunity to act in such a way.
Though opposites attract, it is evident in the short story “Be-ers and Doers” that the author knew that forcing your child against its own grain is not a way to get the desired behavior. As the child in the story starts out, it is known that the child is most like his father. He, like his father “was peaceful just by nature” and was not one to be knocked “off [his] hinges” if something of great magnitude happened; but his mother was completely opposite, as it was “hard to believe” that she could “shove around an entire family” that was full of be-ers and not doers like herself. After her child, Albert was born, the mother put in her head that “Albert was going to be a perfect son” no matter how hard she had to force her doing look on life into him. As Albert grew up, sadness clouded his mind when his mother would scold him about being too much like his father. Being a be-er was not good enough for his mother, he must be a doer like her. All through his life, Albert was picked on by his mother. Saying that “his marks could be better” and that “[he seems rock-bottom lazy]” when all Albert wanted to do in life was just be himself. Years past and Albert’s mother still could not force her doing habits on her son, though it seemed that he would never life up to his potential it was evident that he would show it when it was needed. During a fire, Albert was the first person to get up and get everyone out of the house and managed to smother the fire with a cushion, even though he got second degree burns because of it. After the ordeal, Albert’s mother spoke about how she had finally seen “some sort of a sign that [he] were one hundred percent alive”. But it was not a victory in Albert’s mind; he stood up and told his mother that he was no longer going to be what his mother, but just himself. No matter whether she liked it or not, he was going to be himself.
Though both of the stories gave insight on the way parents treat their children, both of them are giving the same message. If you do everything for your children, they will not give you the respect and desired behavior that a parent may wish upon their children. But if you force your child to be something he/she is not, the child will always rip away and will never give you the desired behavior. For a child to respect its parents, it must not be coddled or choked, but gently guided and praised on how to be, himself or herself.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Soccer Problem
January 19, 2010
Arlene Thomas
333 Wolf Dr.
Lupine, British Columbia
Canada V2A WOLF
Mr. Kleats
Central High School 123 Main Street
Sportstown, British Columbia, V2A 1W3.
Dear Mr. Kleats:
My daughter, Takala is on your U14 Girls soccer team. During the course of this year, I have been grateful for your expertise on the defense position and being able to give her a little extra advice; though I know she is saddened when she comes to practice early and has to wait until after practice starts for you to be available. Bringing the players to and from practice, I have noticed that the girls seem confused during practice because of a bit of disorganization on whether the practice is focused on the forwards or defense.
After attending the game last week, I think that the girls that are on midfield could be played a little more often, to keep from tiring out our defensemen. Being a parent, and having my husband as a coach I know a loud voice must be used to reach the players from across the field; but I think that the girls would respond better to positive reinforcement than profanity.
I know that in the years that have passed, you have successfully lead our team, including my daughter to the finals and again; this year I know that our team is at the top of the league. All though the girls enjoy getting the medals every year; I think that the emphasis of next year’s games should be honing the skills of the team and showing that teamwork is most important instead of winning.
As a parent, I know how difficult girls can be and I am pleased that you have come back the last couple of years to work with the same group of girls. They have improved immensely, with the knowledge and skills that you have brought to the team. I hope that Takala is on your team again next year, as she is excited to start a new season in the spring.
Sincerely,
Arlene Thomas
Arlene Thomas
333 Wolf Dr.
Lupine, British Columbia
Canada V2A WOLF
Mr. Kleats
Central High School 123 Main Street
Sportstown, British Columbia, V2A 1W3.
Dear Mr. Kleats:
My daughter, Takala is on your U14 Girls soccer team. During the course of this year, I have been grateful for your expertise on the defense position and being able to give her a little extra advice; though I know she is saddened when she comes to practice early and has to wait until after practice starts for you to be available. Bringing the players to and from practice, I have noticed that the girls seem confused during practice because of a bit of disorganization on whether the practice is focused on the forwards or defense.
After attending the game last week, I think that the girls that are on midfield could be played a little more often, to keep from tiring out our defensemen. Being a parent, and having my husband as a coach I know a loud voice must be used to reach the players from across the field; but I think that the girls would respond better to positive reinforcement than profanity.
I know that in the years that have passed, you have successfully lead our team, including my daughter to the finals and again; this year I know that our team is at the top of the league. All though the girls enjoy getting the medals every year; I think that the emphasis of next year’s games should be honing the skills of the team and showing that teamwork is most important instead of winning.
As a parent, I know how difficult girls can be and I am pleased that you have come back the last couple of years to work with the same group of girls. They have improved immensely, with the knowledge and skills that you have brought to the team. I hope that Takala is on your team again next year, as she is excited to start a new season in the spring.
Sincerely,
Arlene Thomas
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Taken Too Early
This must never leave this blog. This must never leave the eyes of you, the reader and turn into words that form questions that are still to this day too hard to answer. Thoughts you may have, though mournful for another at the words that are in this essay will not turn into actions of sympathy. Every person in this world, no matter who you may be will have a role model in their life. And every person will experience death. But only the people that experience their role models death will be able to tell you the true meaning of how that person that has passed on from our world influenced the life or lives of the ones left behind in the world of the living.
Being one of those said people, it is difficult in a way to explain how or why it happened or even to the very point of who is at fault logically and figuratively. But when you are the one that is at fault for your very role models death, it is hard not to think every day on how they influenced your life. Such as my best friend Josh was a role model in my life that will forever influence me. Josh and I were two of a kind, the type of people that are easily forgotten and blown away in the wind of society. Which made it easy to see how we became best friends, though Josh and I were different in ways, I stayed in school and did my home work while Josh rather did his own thing and didn’t care about school or much of anything to do the subjects that were taught to us, even though we went to different schools. But it was not his way of ‘schooling’ that made me think of him as a role model. No. It was his personality and his way of being. No matter what the situation, Josh could stay cool and calm. Nerves of steel. Scared of nothing. He would keep his pride no matter how the cheese grater of life attempted to peel back his layers and degrade him to the point of fitting in with the world.
Some people have role models that influence the way that they do things. Such as a child will copy his father the way he shaves, or a person will start recycling because it is the way of ‘society’. The way Josh influenced me was not shown in any physical demeanor, but the way I thought myself, the way I see another person. I really…saw them. Though it was evident that people did not see me the way Josh and I could see them. Another reason why Josh and I became friends was because of our physical differences, because of my illness, I was born with an extra bone on my left thumb and so I have three thumbs. Though it was not something that was ‘wrong’ with him, Josh always wore sunglasses, as his eyes were different. There had only been a select number of people that ever saw his eyes, but I remember them better when I close my own. A dark blue started around the edges, it was so dark, it was almost black, but the tints of blue could be seen still. Moving into towards his pupil, the blue got lighter and lighter. It is said that the eyes are the window to someone’s soul, and it was always my belief that the reason Josh had such different eyes was because he had a soul that was beyond his years and his eyes told the tale of time. Getting lighter and lighter as the days, weeks, months, years of knowledge grew.
Through that knowledge, Josh continued his ways, showing me how life could be when you looked at it from a different point of view. At first, I was like everyone else, going day by day, working, never looking up to see what was going on around me. But Josh took my hand and pulled me away from the crowd and gave me a new perspective on life. He showed me how it was to truly have fun, to smile, to laugh the way people who are truly happy laugh. He showed me that trust was not something that someone should throw around, but something that is sacred and worth working for. Knowing about my illness, Josh would be with me at every good and bad turn that my illness took me on. He knew how to keep me from giving up on anything. Throughout the years of our friendship, Josh and I grew further apart, but closer together at the same time. Having to move away, it was hard to still be best friends, but when he came to visit it was as if we were just back to the old days. Unknowing I was that it was close to the date that I would never see Josh again. Saying before that Josh and I were two in the same, as we were easily forgotten and slid until the radar of popularity; but it is hard to know how that so few remember him. Between his little brother, Gem and I, no one remembers him.
No one on the outside could really say whose fault it was for Josh’s murder. But when you play a significant part to it without knowing, it is hard not to blame yourself. Even though people will tell you over and over that it was not your fault, it is too hard to take that guilt and put it away. To forget about it. No. Why should I forget? How could I forget? Forget hearing his voice, pleading for me to help him? Could you? As I said before, Josh always kept his cool, always knew what to do in any situation; whether it was an emergency, or just a game. But those seven days after he was kidnapped and I heard his voice for the first time with real fear. Real terror. It is hard to explain the feeling that one gets when someone is pleading for you to save them and all you can do it nothing. Hearing my best friend, my role model, the one that I thought could never be shaken cry out in pain and fear and all I can do is sit and listen is worse than the pain he was endearing. All because of a bad fight, some sick bastards kidnapped him and did unspeakable and unthinkable horror just for their fun. And I can honestly say that it makes me sick to my stomach today just thinking about what they did to him, as I remember every cut, every burn, every scream, every drop of blood that came from him.
Still unable to forget to this day, I would give everything not to forget. To forget would be a dishonor to his memory. This essay was about how a role model has influenced my life, and today I have spoken out loud to you about someone who you’ll never meet, and you’ll never remember. Josh was one of my best friends. And the last words that I heard from him will always stay with me. “I guess you didn’t look hard enough to find me Arlene…you couldn’t save me…why?” Unable to answer that question, I will forever remember someone who taught me to never give up, and to keep my pride no matter what the situation.
Goodbye Josh.
Being one of those said people, it is difficult in a way to explain how or why it happened or even to the very point of who is at fault logically and figuratively. But when you are the one that is at fault for your very role models death, it is hard not to think every day on how they influenced your life. Such as my best friend Josh was a role model in my life that will forever influence me. Josh and I were two of a kind, the type of people that are easily forgotten and blown away in the wind of society. Which made it easy to see how we became best friends, though Josh and I were different in ways, I stayed in school and did my home work while Josh rather did his own thing and didn’t care about school or much of anything to do the subjects that were taught to us, even though we went to different schools. But it was not his way of ‘schooling’ that made me think of him as a role model. No. It was his personality and his way of being. No matter what the situation, Josh could stay cool and calm. Nerves of steel. Scared of nothing. He would keep his pride no matter how the cheese grater of life attempted to peel back his layers and degrade him to the point of fitting in with the world.
Some people have role models that influence the way that they do things. Such as a child will copy his father the way he shaves, or a person will start recycling because it is the way of ‘society’. The way Josh influenced me was not shown in any physical demeanor, but the way I thought myself, the way I see another person. I really…saw them. Though it was evident that people did not see me the way Josh and I could see them. Another reason why Josh and I became friends was because of our physical differences, because of my illness, I was born with an extra bone on my left thumb and so I have three thumbs. Though it was not something that was ‘wrong’ with him, Josh always wore sunglasses, as his eyes were different. There had only been a select number of people that ever saw his eyes, but I remember them better when I close my own. A dark blue started around the edges, it was so dark, it was almost black, but the tints of blue could be seen still. Moving into towards his pupil, the blue got lighter and lighter. It is said that the eyes are the window to someone’s soul, and it was always my belief that the reason Josh had such different eyes was because he had a soul that was beyond his years and his eyes told the tale of time. Getting lighter and lighter as the days, weeks, months, years of knowledge grew.
Through that knowledge, Josh continued his ways, showing me how life could be when you looked at it from a different point of view. At first, I was like everyone else, going day by day, working, never looking up to see what was going on around me. But Josh took my hand and pulled me away from the crowd and gave me a new perspective on life. He showed me how it was to truly have fun, to smile, to laugh the way people who are truly happy laugh. He showed me that trust was not something that someone should throw around, but something that is sacred and worth working for. Knowing about my illness, Josh would be with me at every good and bad turn that my illness took me on. He knew how to keep me from giving up on anything. Throughout the years of our friendship, Josh and I grew further apart, but closer together at the same time. Having to move away, it was hard to still be best friends, but when he came to visit it was as if we were just back to the old days. Unknowing I was that it was close to the date that I would never see Josh again. Saying before that Josh and I were two in the same, as we were easily forgotten and slid until the radar of popularity; but it is hard to know how that so few remember him. Between his little brother, Gem and I, no one remembers him.
No one on the outside could really say whose fault it was for Josh’s murder. But when you play a significant part to it without knowing, it is hard not to blame yourself. Even though people will tell you over and over that it was not your fault, it is too hard to take that guilt and put it away. To forget about it. No. Why should I forget? How could I forget? Forget hearing his voice, pleading for me to help him? Could you? As I said before, Josh always kept his cool, always knew what to do in any situation; whether it was an emergency, or just a game. But those seven days after he was kidnapped and I heard his voice for the first time with real fear. Real terror. It is hard to explain the feeling that one gets when someone is pleading for you to save them and all you can do it nothing. Hearing my best friend, my role model, the one that I thought could never be shaken cry out in pain and fear and all I can do is sit and listen is worse than the pain he was endearing. All because of a bad fight, some sick bastards kidnapped him and did unspeakable and unthinkable horror just for their fun. And I can honestly say that it makes me sick to my stomach today just thinking about what they did to him, as I remember every cut, every burn, every scream, every drop of blood that came from him.
Still unable to forget to this day, I would give everything not to forget. To forget would be a dishonor to his memory. This essay was about how a role model has influenced my life, and today I have spoken out loud to you about someone who you’ll never meet, and you’ll never remember. Josh was one of my best friends. And the last words that I heard from him will always stay with me. “I guess you didn’t look hard enough to find me Arlene…you couldn’t save me…why?” Unable to answer that question, I will forever remember someone who taught me to never give up, and to keep my pride no matter what the situation.
Goodbye Josh.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Santa Letter
December 17, 2009
865 Mohawk Dr.
Insaneville, British Columbia
Canada NEW HAR
Santa Claus
Chief Toy maker
321 Candy Cane Lane
North Pole HOH OHO
Dear Santa:
It’s me again, how are all the reindeer doing? I know Comet enjoys red peppers instead of carrots; did he like the one’s I left out for him last year? I hope Rudolf didn’t steal them again. If you’re wondering how I have been doing have no fear as I have been doing well. I am not longer putting cockroaches in the cafeteria potatoes that the unsuspecting children buy every day. Trying to turn over a new leaf, I have also stopped spiking my hair so I don’t poke out anymore eyes.
This year for Christmas, I am not going to ask for a lot. Just a couple things have peeked my interest. First of all, as you know I am inspiring to become a world class chef, and all chefs need a fancy chef’s hat. The only thing is, I don’t want to blend in like every once else, so this year, could I please get a black and green poka-dotted chef’s hat? As well, since I just got my N a couple days ago, I was wondering if you could bring me a car. I want to drive to school and I can’t be seen in something dilapidated, so the car I am wishing for is a 2009 Dodge Challenger. If you have time, could you please make it green with two black racing stripes? Thanks!
Sincerely,
****** ******
865 Mohawk Dr.
Insaneville, British Columbia
Canada NEW HAR
Santa Claus
Chief Toy maker
321 Candy Cane Lane
North Pole HOH OHO
Dear Santa:
It’s me again, how are all the reindeer doing? I know Comet enjoys red peppers instead of carrots; did he like the one’s I left out for him last year? I hope Rudolf didn’t steal them again. If you’re wondering how I have been doing have no fear as I have been doing well. I am not longer putting cockroaches in the cafeteria potatoes that the unsuspecting children buy every day. Trying to turn over a new leaf, I have also stopped spiking my hair so I don’t poke out anymore eyes.
This year for Christmas, I am not going to ask for a lot. Just a couple things have peeked my interest. First of all, as you know I am inspiring to become a world class chef, and all chefs need a fancy chef’s hat. The only thing is, I don’t want to blend in like every once else, so this year, could I please get a black and green poka-dotted chef’s hat? As well, since I just got my N a couple days ago, I was wondering if you could bring me a car. I want to drive to school and I can’t be seen in something dilapidated, so the car I am wishing for is a 2009 Dodge Challenger. If you have time, could you please make it green with two black racing stripes? Thanks!
Sincerely,
****** ******
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Dave Cooks The Turkey
What is funny? In the short story Dave Cooks The Turkey which was written by Stuart Mclean the content in the story is one of snickering laughter. Throughout the story Stuart demonstrates many situations that bring out child in the reader or listener by creating situations that we can relate too. The first situation was when Morley (Dave’s wife) joined a group of women that congregated together every second week to drink and make Christmas stuff. My mother and four-ten of her friends all get together every weekend to drink and scrapbook our lives away. The second situation that was easily apart of my holiday every year was when Morley started to complain to Dave about how much work she does throughout the year, defiantly around Christmas time. My mother start’s her “I do everything around here” speech every year around the start of November. The third and final thing that Stuart brings to his story Dace Cooks The Turkey, is when Dave thaws out the turkey and notices all the little flaws and names it. Every year it seems that my family is getting more and more insane and every year the name of the turkey that we eat gets crazier and crazier. Last year it was Fignagell and the thought of what the name of the turkey could be this year makes me shutter at how random and disturbing my family can get around the holidays.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Will He Come Back the Same?
There is a fine line between maturity and immaturity, as that line is in the eye of the beholder. For someone to become more mature there must be a significant happening in one’s life for them to turn over a new leaf. That happened to one of my best friends, Richard. For him to become the mature man he is today, both he and I can trace that instant click of maturity back to just one situation.
To this date, Richard and I have been best friends for about nine years now, I was quite young when I met him as he is older than me, but I still remember to this date how he used to be. During the time that we grew up together, he was a hooligan at all times. His ‘crazy’ button had been pushed in and seemed to be stuck just as a keyboard key will get stuck in and the letter h strides across your word document at 100mph while you frantically try to pull it out so that you can continue writing your essay before the end of class. Richard got his first motorcycle when he was 13, this started off his cycle of psychotic behavior in my opinion. Living with his grandparents and his two younger cousins, Richard didn’t have many rules in his house. Giving him the fuel to his fire to go out in the middle of the night and ride his dirt bike where ever he pleased, or to get in fights at school.
But the day of maturity did not show up for another couple years, to the point of I was concerned that he was too much like a wild stallion, rearing and bucking at rules and smashing through gates that held him in. It was not until he was 17 years old when I truly saw him change. It was afterschool, I had just gotten home and had sat down at my computer; I signed onto msn and of course Richard was online waiting for me. Double clicking his icon, a window popped up and I typed in ‘Hey, what’s up?’, and got a response of ‘…I need to talk to you about something serious…’ which confused me. Richard was never really the serious guy unless it was something really bad. But as my eyes scrolled over his typed up words, I shuttered at the thought of what might be going through his head.
You see, his grandparents were obviously retired and were getting money from the government to take care of themselves, as well as Richard and his two younger cousins. But it seemed that the government was cutting back on the money that his family was getting and it was already hard enough to live on what they were getting. The family was tight for money and it was hard for a 17 year old boy to get a job that could generate enough money to help support his family. Richard had decided to join the army. Richard had never been one for discipline, but he knew that he could join as he was over 16 and that he could get a significant amount of money to help support his family. At 17 years old, my best friend Richard joined the army, did his training and left to fight for his country. During his training time, I only got to see Richard at Christmas, but after he left to fight for his country, it was two years until I saw him again. He was 20 years old the next time I saw him, no longer did I see the almost puppyish mischief in his eyes, no longer did a boy stand in front of me, but a man.
For many kids, getting a job or their license would be the highlight of their teenage years, bringing them out the immature bubble that holds tight around a child’s body. But working at Wal-Mart or getting their license, was never a big deal for him, to bring him out to maturity, it took the hardest choice anyone could ever make in their life. Will they sacrifice their body, mind and soul for their country or not? Making that choice gave Richard a better outlook on life and brought the mature man I always knew he was out into the open.
To this date, Richard and I have been best friends for about nine years now, I was quite young when I met him as he is older than me, but I still remember to this date how he used to be. During the time that we grew up together, he was a hooligan at all times. His ‘crazy’ button had been pushed in and seemed to be stuck just as a keyboard key will get stuck in and the letter h strides across your word document at 100mph while you frantically try to pull it out so that you can continue writing your essay before the end of class. Richard got his first motorcycle when he was 13, this started off his cycle of psychotic behavior in my opinion. Living with his grandparents and his two younger cousins, Richard didn’t have many rules in his house. Giving him the fuel to his fire to go out in the middle of the night and ride his dirt bike where ever he pleased, or to get in fights at school.
But the day of maturity did not show up for another couple years, to the point of I was concerned that he was too much like a wild stallion, rearing and bucking at rules and smashing through gates that held him in. It was not until he was 17 years old when I truly saw him change. It was afterschool, I had just gotten home and had sat down at my computer; I signed onto msn and of course Richard was online waiting for me. Double clicking his icon, a window popped up and I typed in ‘Hey, what’s up?’, and got a response of ‘…I need to talk to you about something serious…’ which confused me. Richard was never really the serious guy unless it was something really bad. But as my eyes scrolled over his typed up words, I shuttered at the thought of what might be going through his head.
You see, his grandparents were obviously retired and were getting money from the government to take care of themselves, as well as Richard and his two younger cousins. But it seemed that the government was cutting back on the money that his family was getting and it was already hard enough to live on what they were getting. The family was tight for money and it was hard for a 17 year old boy to get a job that could generate enough money to help support his family. Richard had decided to join the army. Richard had never been one for discipline, but he knew that he could join as he was over 16 and that he could get a significant amount of money to help support his family. At 17 years old, my best friend Richard joined the army, did his training and left to fight for his country. During his training time, I only got to see Richard at Christmas, but after he left to fight for his country, it was two years until I saw him again. He was 20 years old the next time I saw him, no longer did I see the almost puppyish mischief in his eyes, no longer did a boy stand in front of me, but a man.
For many kids, getting a job or their license would be the highlight of their teenage years, bringing them out the immature bubble that holds tight around a child’s body. But working at Wal-Mart or getting their license, was never a big deal for him, to bring him out to maturity, it took the hardest choice anyone could ever make in their life. Will they sacrifice their body, mind and soul for their country or not? Making that choice gave Richard a better outlook on life and brought the mature man I always knew he was out into the open.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Profanity vs. Morals
For:
Why is it that people today seem to always have to use profanity as a way of describing someone, something or a mood? Is it not seen as normal if one does not use profanity to say something a more “complex” word could describe just as well, but they use profanity anyway because they are lazy? Growing up, many kids see it as “cool” or “fun” to swear in their sentences, as their parents do. To be able to get away with saying “crap” or “shit” gives the sense of adultness that many kids are trying to get as they move into their teenage years. Though morals have changed over time, as a young adult today would not have the same morals that their grandparents had when they were young adults, the fact that swearing has come more socially acceptable is a depressing though indeed. Because it is socially acceptable to speak such profanity when describing someone, something or a mood, the sense of morals that our grandparents upheld would be scoffed at in today’s society. Because parents are not reprimanding their children when profanity is said at too young of age, people just grin and bare it instead of telling their children that it is not acceptable to say words in such a way, when other words could easily be used to say what the person is feeling without having to swear.
Against:
It is not fair to say that the morals of society have changed in any way just because profanity is used more often and used by children younger and younger each year. Many parents have a strong household and rules to which their children have to abide by. Though there is no physical, mental or emotional ‘abuse’ to force this on the child, but it is how the child is raised. Depending on how the parent’s are raised, the child will most likely be brought up the same way. Many parents now of young teenagers had morals and rules in their household and have brought those forward, through the times to keep them alive in theirs. But parents that lack morals because their parents slacked on rules in the house will most likely slack as well, ending up with children that use profanity as loosely as their parents do. Though some people think that if they use profanity they are acting bigger and should be respected, but in real life they will not be accepted into society as well as other’s that use correct grammar and language that is not offensive. If one was to use profanity loosely while attempting to get a job, it is obvious that it would be difficult for them to get a job; as people 30 and over today would be greatly offended if while they were in line at Wal-Mart to pay for their merchandise, the cashier frequently used loose profanity to speak and hold a conversation.
Why is it that people today seem to always have to use profanity as a way of describing someone, something or a mood? Is it not seen as normal if one does not use profanity to say something a more “complex” word could describe just as well, but they use profanity anyway because they are lazy? Growing up, many kids see it as “cool” or “fun” to swear in their sentences, as their parents do. To be able to get away with saying “crap” or “shit” gives the sense of adultness that many kids are trying to get as they move into their teenage years. Though morals have changed over time, as a young adult today would not have the same morals that their grandparents had when they were young adults, the fact that swearing has come more socially acceptable is a depressing though indeed. Because it is socially acceptable to speak such profanity when describing someone, something or a mood, the sense of morals that our grandparents upheld would be scoffed at in today’s society. Because parents are not reprimanding their children when profanity is said at too young of age, people just grin and bare it instead of telling their children that it is not acceptable to say words in such a way, when other words could easily be used to say what the person is feeling without having to swear.
Against:
It is not fair to say that the morals of society have changed in any way just because profanity is used more often and used by children younger and younger each year. Many parents have a strong household and rules to which their children have to abide by. Though there is no physical, mental or emotional ‘abuse’ to force this on the child, but it is how the child is raised. Depending on how the parent’s are raised, the child will most likely be brought up the same way. Many parents now of young teenagers had morals and rules in their household and have brought those forward, through the times to keep them alive in theirs. But parents that lack morals because their parents slacked on rules in the house will most likely slack as well, ending up with children that use profanity as loosely as their parents do. Though some people think that if they use profanity they are acting bigger and should be respected, but in real life they will not be accepted into society as well as other’s that use correct grammar and language that is not offensive. If one was to use profanity loosely while attempting to get a job, it is obvious that it would be difficult for them to get a job; as people 30 and over today would be greatly offended if while they were in line at Wal-Mart to pay for their merchandise, the cashier frequently used loose profanity to speak and hold a conversation.
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