I don't know what the new black is.
I do know that Biz Ass is the new Prop Trans. Man I would rather take Evidence two more times than take Biz Ass the first time.
So anyway I came across the Supernanny on TV. The idea of the show was kind of strange to me, but I guess the way that US culture is set up now what else are you going to do? My knee jerk reaction is that, if I don't know why my kid won't behave I should go ask all my aunts. At least one of my cousins behaved that way and so one of my aunts will know how to fix it. Now that nuclear families are so insulated and the families are so much smaller this isn't a viable option for most people.
I always had a supernanny at my house. It held my old man's pants up. You want to act up and throw your dinner on the floor? Supernanny will make sure don't ever do that again, and that you don't sit down for an hour. You want to cry and scream? Supernanny will give you something to cry about. You want to talk back to your mom? Supernanny will answer you everytime. To assist supernanny when it was holding my dad's pants up while he was at work my mom had the pretty good nanny, a wooden spoon. It worked nearly as well.
I know it's not enlightened to hit your kids but my cousin's and I were all raised on the belt. Only one of us got arrested for anything serious. Most of my cousin's are successful, educated, and well respected. It didn't seem to have such a negative influence. But I look at what white kids I grew up with who werent' whipped have compared to what they started out with and the way they were raised didn't seem to work so well.
I think part of this is due to the fact that they were the first generation of people who weren't supposed to be whipped and no one really told their parents what to do instead. I wonder how that's going to shake out with next couple generations of Latinos. I know I'm not supposed to whip my kid, but what am I supposed to do? Timeout doesn't seem to cut it and the only thing that worked on me was the belt. Where am I supposed to learn the new mysterious technique? And how will my kids brag about what a bad ass their old man is, my old man could lay one down on you and have is belt back on so fast it would take you a day to realize you got whipped, if I don't have a belt to give them some stories.
3 Comments:
This is a really good question that you raise. How do we acheive compliance from the little people without brutal suppression?
Do you want a serious answer? It seems that parents of this time are bribing their kids into compliance with candy and toys, across cultures. I don't know exactly what the eventual outcome will be. Parents are getting a little too nicey-nicey. Kids beat up their parents now. It's not pretty.
My rules are: 1) Be consistent, limit toys/candy, and don't give in to rude demands, ever. 2) Read them books on manners and teach them that it feels better to charm people early on. You'll be doing them a favor. 3) Give lots of hugs and words of affection for the good things, and for the bad things look them in the eye at their level and say, "We don't do that." That's what I've figured out so far.
Love the blog. You're a crack-up.
Plenty of people beat their kids and their kids turn out crappy. I don't think you can teach morality with beatings alone. Whippin' teaches fear, but unless you give kids something to respect about you, that's all it teaches. Unfortunately there doesn't seem to be any way to require people to be respectable before they have kids.
hey pocho, I think you have a good point. I was a raised on the chancla and the thick, wooden hairbrush (that is inescapable and stings like a mofo when your mom is holding you by the trenzas that she's in the middle of twining).
I turned out all right. In law school, no criminal record. BUT, unlike you, I have tons of cousins who were also raised on the chancla, AND have criminal records, some have had to leave the country. So I agree with Meg - there's gotta be something else.
In my case, I think it was my mom's chinge y chinge that would not stop. Not only would you get a chanclazo, you'd hear her bitch at you for hours on end, forever and ever. Fuck up once, and it becomes a museum piece to be taken out every other time you fuck up. And once she got started, if you tried to shut her up, you'd (I'd) get a humbling slap across the mouth. So you tried real hard to not fuck up, it just wasn't worth the nagging.
by the way, LOVE your blog! I just finished my second final exam and afterwards I found your blog and sat there, in the raza office, cracking up by myself like a maniac for like, two hours.
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