How I Survived My Childhood
When I was a kid, I was always excited to learn new words. We were the fortunate family that, with a mere 18 payments, our family would be a proud owner of the World book encyclopedia set. The door-to-door salesman said that it was written in layman's English and designed to cover significant areas of knowledge with a particular focus on science, technology, and medicine. We had the world at our fingertips.
Once a year, around the middle of the year, a package wrapped in brown paper arrived. The coveted new "book of the year," was here. Of course, the information provided was about what occurred over the last year, but it was jam-packed with facts, pictures, history, and global news. We hungrily unwrapped our prize possession, and the three eldest lay on the floor, gingerly turning the pages as ooh's and ahhh's could be heard, as we spent hours learning what had happened in our world and discovering words that were not a normal part of our conversations.
Between the arrival of our yearly book, we still wanted to continue learning. So, the dictionary was a well-worn friend. One day we heard a word at school that intrigued us and was never, ever said in our household. So, to the dictionary, we went. Wanting to sound continental and be "with-it," we figured we should incorporate the word into our vocabulary. This single word would be a word that would show our maturity. Turning the pages to "b," we were perplexed. Hmmm, it sure didn't make any sense. Webster's definition was (noun) the female of the dog…. Why would someone say that to a friend?
In retrospect, critical thinking might not have been our strong suit during our early years. Later that day, we were in the living room, and my sister said something that irked me, and I called her THAT word. She was shocked and provoked, and she yelled back to me, "You B-I-T-*-H," although this time it was heard by our dad. I never saw him move so fast. A man who never raised his voice started yelling about how that was a bad word; she should never say it to anyone, asked who taught her that word and that he was going to wash her mouth out with soap, all without taking a breath.
Through tears, of course, she said I said it first. The best defense is typically a good offense, but my dad would have none of it. Our immediate lesson was that we should have looked past the first definition. If so, we would have found Webster to tell us: a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman, used as a generalized term of abuse and disparagement for a woman.
Kids' fascination with taboo words isn't new, of course. Around 5 or 6, most kids get a big thrill out of forbidden words. The definition of curse or “swear” words, based on dictionary.com is, “the expression that a wish of misfortune, evil, or doom befall a person…” Instead of the use of soap to help your grandkids understand that there are better words they can use to substitute for a curse word, here are a few thoughts:
1. Check yourself…do swear words roll trippingly off your tongue? If so, now may be a great time to find alternative words to use, after all, we are also “our message.”
2. Maybe purchase a thesaurus to help them find other words that might get their message across better.
3. Ask them how they would feel if someone used that word on them. Sometimes just thinking about how being the recipient helps them understand the sting. Just like it's not OK to hit someone or bully them, it's not OK to curse at someone to hurt them.
4. Language choices reflect on them. Remind them that "they" are the message. What they say and what they do can quickly become their personal brand. Someone who curses a lot tends to look immature and not at all classy.
So, help your grandkids understand that words are powerful, and certain words make a significant impact.
What was your first taboo word? What was your punishment? CJ Corki would love to hear.
BTW- I did say it first…
