My very experienced teacher friend was endorsing the values of correctly taught and utilised verbal communication and how the adage 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but calling names won't harm me', is actually a load of old cobblers.
I would agree with that and although I'm someone who talks a lot (A LOT!), most of what I say IS a load of old cobblers and readily discarded, despite my tongue-in-cheek blog name and its origins in my son's favourite phrase, 'I don't mean to be rude, but....'.
However, children don't have the cognitive means to filter out what is correct and what is cobblers and therefore take everything to heart. How many of us mums and dads have heard our offspring whine: "But, YOU said......"
(I do, every day, hence my son taking up saying 'bloody this' and 'bloody that' on his texts (see previous blog)
But a lack of means to communicate verbally, through illnesses resulting in speech impediments of varying severity, can be surprisingly debilitating, more than we might imagine I suspect.
When I was ten, my dad, then 51, suffered a massive stroke. He was never able to work again (he was a computer programmer) and his verbal communication abilities became like that of a child. (I'm happy to report he is now 83 and going strong, although life without the power of speech to any useful level remains a daily struggle.)
Stroke at such an age is, thankfully, relatively rare. It has been well-documented in the media that TV presenter Andrew Marr recently suffered a stroke aged 53 and it will remain to be seen how this affects his communication abilities which, as a journalist, are the tools to his trade. I have great sympathy for Andrew and his family and hope he makes a full recovery.
With my dad, I was too young to understand the severity of what was happening, and it was fun. When I wanted to play teacher, I had a real life pupil! For my dad, not so much fun, as he struggled to re-educate the part of his brain which forms words and sentences.
Over the years, as his family, we have filled in the gaps; decoding what he wants to say, ending sentences for him and utilised a hell of a lot of guess-work!
For my dad, daily life is frustrating, although a side-effect of stroke left him the gift / burden of child-like inhibitions which make him friendly, approachable and, dare I say, somewhat 'quirky'.
His memory and ability to vocalize what he is thinking / remembering are random, increasingly so with age and other factors becoming apparent. He can tell you Rastrick is near Halifax in one breath, a memory from 30 years ago, but literally can't find the words to tell you he's had pie for dinner, a mere ten minutes ago. (Mind you, I often empathise with my dad - I can sing along word-perfect to every 80s chart hit but can't remember it's welly day at school unless I leave myself a HUGE note on the door, and even then I forget what I wanted by the time I get to the garage!) Now, what was I saying.....?
I'm constantly intrigued by adult inhibitions and the minefields of social communication protocol and etiquette through which we negotiate our daily life. Perhaps my dad's illness has inspired me to 'value the power of speech' (/ 'be a chatterbox') and made me more likely to 'speak as I find' or 'wear my heart on my sleeve' (see previous blog), 'call a spade a spade' etc.
There are, of course, boundaries I would not cross, namely the ability to cause 'harm' through my words. However, I suspect words ARE increasingly becoming akin to 'sticks and stones' as a result of the Facebook generation. We have the constant urge to fire off short, sharp, often knee-jerk remarks and opinions in an instant, to a wide and often unknown audience, without much thought as to the consequences of our words.
Growing up pre-FB, I belong to a world where we would cut off our right arm rather than communicate with strangers on the tube but we will stop and exchange knitting patterns, the recipe for beef wellington and opinion on Europe with fellow hikers in the Dales.
Now, our written communication via text, e.mail, tweet and FB post allows us to say anything about anything to anyone and everyone wherever and whenever we want, often in character-limited, reactionary and easily-misinterpreted bursts. And it's here where my friend's words hit home (no pun intended); the dangers with this faceless means of communication for our children is that it might not break bones but holds the same power to cause real harm.
To finish on a lighter note, my little boy's 'way with words' was spot on this week.
For show and tell he was telling his classmates about Charlie who he met in Lanzarote (see previous November blogs). His Reception teacher asked him to explain more about the holiday.
"How did you get to Lanzarote Daniel?"
"In an aeroplane."
"And what did you fly over to get there?"
"Water".
Prompting him to say 'sea' or 'ocean', she asked: "What sort of water was it?"
Daniel replied: "Dirty."
Funnily enough, that's just the sort of thing my dad would say; the simple truth.
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| My dad; 'life and soul of the party' |
