Just Plain Bill

I will not say phooey!

I imagine most of us have grown up under the admonition from our parents not to say certain words. The words that usually made the “no-no” list were cuss words or other derogatory terms, or names that often came from school playground chatter – as well as cuss words often used by family members or friends who visited our homes.

When called a name, our parents often recited the old verse, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me.” As I’ve grown to senior citizen status, there have been innumerable instances when those “names” truly did hurt – and still do. I know those “names” could also contribute to one’s sense of value, self-concept, and how he or she viewed his or herself over the years. Self-concept, self esteem, and even self-loathing may be fed by these “names”, if repeated and internalized often enough.

My first contact with “no-no” words in my family occurred when I wanted to accompany my dad to the grocery store. He said “no” to my request, and I responded as a little five year old might by saying “phooey.”

In addition to a swat from my dad, I had to write, “I will not say phooey” 100 times on the chalkboard in the hallway of our house. I must admit this kept me from saying phooey for most of my life, and quite possibly kept me from repeating far more negative or “dirty” words in my younger years.

Upon the passage of so many years and having become a parent myself, I realized that what my dad most likely punished me for was what he interpreted as “talking back.” 

As I’ve matured, I’ve also come to realize that the contributions I made over the years to discourse, discussion and debate is enhanced when I remember to “not say phooey” – to not “talk back.”

What about you? 

Just Plain Bill

A blanket on the bathroom window

and a flashlight face down in the tub

I grew up during a time when the west coast of California was considered a possible target for the enemy during World War II. Families experienced “black out” nights, when there was to be no light emanating from our houses. We would gather in the bathroom, with a blanket over the window, and place a flashlight lens down in the bathtub. Not much to do but read – and I let my little boy imagination go to far away places and support the fighting that was taking place around the world. There were even block wardens wearing old WWI helmets and armbands, who walked around the neighborhood to reinforce the requirement to have no lights showing from our homes.

I’ve watched my children and grandchildren play increasingly detailed video games that allow them to simulate how they’d perform in battle. I cannot help but wonder, “What’s left to their imagination?” I was not blessed with these types of games, and maybe I’m better off for it.

I used my mind’s eye and listened to a radio serial on the wartime experiences of “Sky King.” Any old stick was used for a weapon, and the weeds we’d pull up in the field by my house made neat “bombs” to toss at my friends, who were hidden behind a neat cardboard refrigerator packing box from my neighbor’s yard.

I know my imagination was filled with all the “actions” that a child of five could handle. Just one example - my dad bought a war surplus five-cell communication light with a trigger for a switch and a red cellophane lens that I used to signal various small planes that flew quite low over my house. (I even mastered the Morse code for SOS.) 

Different experiences for different times, and I continue to hope that my “old time” experiences will translate to wisdom as I continue as a lifelong learner, and a servant-leader to youth of all ages, without the admonition “when I was your age” to stifle the creativity of youth. 

Just Plain Bill

Always picked last – or not at all!

Picture your teacher taking your class out to PE. She selects two students – two of the best athletes and usually boys - to pick two teams for kickball. Sound familiar?  How did this dynamic play out in the development of your self-concept through your early years of school?

Were you the one who was picked last, possibly because you were the least coordinated, marginally skilled, or the one least “liked” by others? You might even have been picked last because you were a girl!

As this story is repeated throughout my many years of school, the person who was “last picked” just might develop an inferiority complex. They might find a way to act out his or her anger at being embarrassed, at being singled out, at feeling not liked, or even feeling not wanted.

Thankfully, experiencing this type of slight passes with time for many people. For others though, it might remain a contributing factor to how someone looks at himself or herself. These experiences, while seen as minor by many, could result in a lasting dislike for competitive games. This is especially true when a skilled teacher or coach misses an opportunity to bolster confidence by addressing the particular lack of skill - or to use a less-punitive method for selecting teams.

Does this result in a dislike for games or sports? Does this feeling of being rejected or not valued carry over into one’s overall feelings of worth and self-concept?

What were your experiences concerning participation in team PE activities at school? 

Just Plain Bill

Never Turn Your Back on an Audience

While I was growing up, there were some edicts or admonitions my mother gave me that stuck better that others. One I can remember quite well is when my mother told me when I was very young to never to turn my back on an audience. I’m not sure what caused that to come up. Perhaps we’d seen someone performing somewhere and they were facing the audience.

When I was five years of age, I was asked to conduct the kindergarten rhythm band – a proud group of classmates playing bells, triangles, little drums, sticks, and cymbals. For a little boy, who even at that early age was somewhat of a “pest”, that was quite an honor.

So the big day came, and many parents filled the auditorium. We sat in our little chairs on the stage and then my teacher, Miss Dyer, introduced me to the audience. I promptly came up to the front of the stage and, with the little baton in my hand, proceeded to conduct the performance of our rhythm band with a lot of energy and vigor – with my back to the musicians and I facing the audience.

My fellow students did quite well having to follow the beat with my back turned! When we had an intermission, my mother told me that it was OK to conduct the second half of our program facing the performers – and this one time it would be OK to have my back to audience.

As you may imagine, the lesson learned that day was that this “absolute” edict was really a “situational absolute” – and I never conducted a group of performers with my back to the musicians again.

Funny the things that we remember as we’ve grown up. What’s on your list?