A pervasive sense of entitlement
Bookworm on Oct 15 2011 at 11:10 am | Filed under: Uncategorized
I’m adding to my kids’ sense of entitlement today by ferrying them hither and yon. That leaves no time for reading, thinking and writing. Fortunately, Sadie sent me a video link:
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GOOD mom — important years — keep it up — pays off !!! You won’t be able to relax until they start driving (TIC)
A few years back, before calling the local lib newspaper to inform them that Tweetie passed away and their product was no longer needed, I read a local article about one school’s graduation of 72 students who were all graduating summa cum laude. There you have it; says it all!
I always liked the driving time – especially if it was one kid to somewhere. Good one on one chat time – and in a car, they couldn’t get away! That is, if they wanted to get wherever we were going to.
Of course, in those days, we didn’t have the all pervasive ear plugs gizmos that allowed kids to tune out their parents – or any one else they didn’t especially want to hear. Or the ever present games all the youngsters seem to have. When the grandkids come to visit, I find the above to be really rude. And troublesome – though I’m not sure why.
I suspect it’s the simple factor of the child being able to turn off everybody when s/he chooses which I think might encourage the narcissistic factor. And maybe there might also be a link to drug use. That may be a bit far fetched, but there seems to be a hypnotic factor…and an inability to stop that I think might have a connection to drugs. No evidence…just a suspicion that anything that an individual can’t say no to is addictive by nature, and building a habit of addiction of any kind might cause the development of an addictive personality.
I live right behind a high school, so when I walk my dog I often pass by one of the school’s practice fields. The district rents out play time and space to various soccer, rugby, and baseball leagues, so there’s always some game or scrimmage going on.
Lately there has been a group of Pop Warner kids, all dressed in full padding and helmets, drilling for upcoming games. These kids are tiny. Some of them look like they’re only 3 or 4, although I think the league’s minimum age is 6. (I’m 63, so anybody under 7 is a fetus to me.)
Yesterday, as Baxter my boxer and I walked by, I overheard one of the Pop Warner coaches tell his wee ones, “On this field you are not a boy, you are a man. I expect you to act like a man.” The feminazized old leftie part of me cringed when I heard that, my mind filling with visions of little boys being brutalized into becoming unfeeling automatons who would later become capitalists and domineering boyfriends or husbands. That atavistic response lasted a second or two, then was washed away by the realization supplied by my mature, conservative mind that the coach was speaking on many levels, all of them good.
I’ve passed by the Pop Warner sessions enough times to understand what the coaches are trying to instill: teamwork, good listening skills, a work ethic, endurance (“Nobody walks on this field; you all run!)—all the elements that go into the formation of a successful adult man. The coaches remember something that most of us grown-ups often forget: Every child is desperate to become an adult, to shed the restrictions and limitations of smallness and inexperience and join fully in the life and struggles of the community.
Kids who have no good adult influences think they can stumble into adulthood by hijacking adult behaviors—sex, alcohol, cigarettes, rebelliousness doing a bad imitation of principled stands. They’ll just glide into adult privilege by expropriating it (how very leftist, no?) The Pop Warner kids, small as they are, are pushed, challenged and prodded by the bitch slappiness of real adult expectations. They learn that becoming an adult involves hard work, not-so-easily-reached goals and the postponement of pleasure. In short, by the lights of the OWS crowd, they are destined to become One Percenters.
Kids who have no good adult influences think they can stumble into adulthood by hijacking adult behaviors—sex, alcohol, cigarettes, rebelliousness doing a bad imitation of principled stands.
Good point Mart
In the old days, maturity started at 11-13 and the test of manhood came around 16. The desire to prove one’s abilities is hard wired into the young, for it’s one of nature’s ways to test new methods and if they don’t work, there will always be another young one to replace the former dead young one.
I’m still surprised at the fact that I always hear women in anime tell boys certain things when they complain or don’t want to do work or are being lazy or some such. Feels like I’m watching 1950s American culture. The reaction from the males isn’t even negative or resentful or bitter. It’s just how it is and they strive to obtain that ideal: for it can be called male pride. A man is independent economically, can do things for himself, and is strong enough to protect those he loves. Courage, the ability to take risks (calculated or dumb), is still an important virtue on people’s minds in Japanese entertainment.
In America, the only time I hear courage mentioned is when people use cowardice as an insult or as part of some political/military debate that has nothing to do with their own lives. When speaking of or about soldiers, courage is mentioned. But it isn’t talked about concerning the regular lives of individuals. For example, I don’t hear many mentions about the courage it takes for a man to propose, risk rejection, or for a woman to stay safe while her man goes off to war.
The further you stay away from Californian coasts and New England corrupt capitals, the more likely you will find people who place importance in such things, even though the modern culture doesn’t speak of it much. As if speaking of it will call it up like some evil overlord’s name.
Humans can accomplish amazing things with the right objective in mind. If they put in the necessary work and passion. Coming up with things like glory in war or the ideal of manhood was never designed to make superhumans or ideal creations. Rather, it was to simply to give people a goal that they can believe in enough to motivate themselves. Motivation, or belief, is required for work to be done. In the modern era, there is no hope, no jobs, and no belief either. Because something known as the Leftist alliance had to get rid of those to obtain power.
Charles Martel, your #3 is a WINNER. Wonderful! Fantastic and true, and so eloquently written. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to read it!
Off topic. the politics surrounding Herman Cain and Mitt Romney are getting fascinating. Mitt is up to his usual very sneaky behind the scenes games. When a candidate’s public persona and his campaign’s actions don’t match up, alarm bells go off for me. I’ll allow that Cain has faults, but what you see is what you get. Forthright honesty and enthusiasm and bully-pulpit magnificence. Romney – sneaky underhanded RAT. Nuff said.
I won’t bore you with my second-hand details. A good place to start if you’re interested is this link into Robert Stacy McCain, an avowed Cain supporter, and travel his further links if you remain interested in what’s going on.
http://theothermccain.com/2011/10/15/a-real-leader-dot-com/
A link within that link takes you to another link concerning the Romney campaign’s manipulation of the primary schedule – Florida in this case. There are a lot of rumblings concerning Nevada as well. Romney throws his hands in the air with the bestest most innocentest facest in the worldest, “Not me! Not me!” says the child with the hand deep in the cookie jar.
But then, I will never forgive his campaign operatives who, after they switched to the McCain campaign, while STILL mired in the race against Obama in 2008, got out their knives and politically assassinated – stabbed in the back with rabid enthusiasm – their own GOP VP Candidate, Sarah Palin. Unforgivable.
28 years ago, Dec 1983 the west bank near Ramallah.
I’m getting out of a shared taxi in the village that Jay’s uncle lives in . Jay is a US pali, my age about 24. We’ve spent the day at UN womens’ collective for Pali embroidery and folk art and Beir Zeit Uni for student body election week, and now we’re going to have something to eat at his uncle and aunt’s place just outside Ramallah. It’s a small village, about 45 families.
Jay’s two teenaged female cousins are calling him the moment he emerges from the taxi: Taah hoon!
Look! Come here! Look at this!
They are gripping with excitement and pride of possession an old fashioned water pump, something from about 120 years ago, straight out of a Western movie.
There is a bit of a scuffle as they both try to get a grip on the handle and then up and down and up and down and out shoots a gusher of water.
They are dancing, you’d think they won the lottery.
Congratulations all around, Jay is very pleased for them, and then they run off to the house.
I look at Jay and say: Where were they getting water before this?
He turns around and points in the direction we’ve come from. “At the entrance to the village you turn left instead of right and continue for another 2 minutes. there is a well down the side of the hill.”
“How far round trip?”
“At least 2 kilometers. ”
“How often?”
“Every day,” he shrugs, like what do I think? of course everyday. “Except when someone with a pick up truck would take the kids back and forth, then they could put in enough water for a couple of days. Some times my uncle let the girls have the donkey, when it rained.”
“So I don’t suppose they have sewage pipes, do they?”
He gives me a look. “No electricity either.”
I think of all the times I’ve had to take a cold shower since I arrived in the Middle East and thanked G-d that at least I didn’t have to the haul the water up a hill and down the road before I bathed.
Flash forward 10 years:
I’m a mother with 3 kids under 5 yrs, my husband works 12 shifts, I don’t have any family near by. I don’t have any “conveniences”: my own car, a garbage disposal, a dishwasher, a vacuum cleaner, central heating and air conditioning, a microwave oven. I’m tired a lot, and I feel sorry for myself a little too often. Then I remember the gratitude of two teenage girls with an old iron water pump in their front yard. And I thank G-d I don’t have to haul water on top of everything else.
I’ve heard about EMPs, and the possibility of Iran (more likely than China) attacking us with one. One would do more lasting damage than a nuclear bomb (although it is a nuclear bomb – just exploded high enough that the type of damage that Japan suffered wouldn’t occur).
I _really_ _really_ _really_ don’t want to go back to living like they did 100 years ago.
Thank you, Michal, for reminding me that we _can_ do it.
I just really really really don’t want to.
Japan and South Korea are far more vulnerable to EMP attacks than the US.
The Japanese found interesting ways to keep the house clean. For one thing, they always had out door shoes and indoor shoes. Meaning, you took off your shoes and get slippers so you didn’t track dirt into the house. The house was then full of tatami mats or wooden floors, which were cleaned by people just running across them with a rectangular rag. All it requires is leg strength.