Money for Babies

One of the reasons I was bullied in junior high?  We were Welfare People.  Why else would anyone have seven kids in the space of a decade?  The more babies you have, the more money Welfare gives you. The truth of the matter? My father was Catholic.  Birth Control was against his religion.  There were other Catholic families around, with a house full, and I honestly can't say if they got this treatment as well or if I was just an easy target. 

As an adult, I worked in stores and restaurants.  My coworkers were prone to making the same assumption about any woman with many children, especially if she was anything less than a fashionista.  Even the coworkers who got government help to supplement their meager income, or the ones who had a house full of kids themselves.  

I never had children, but was often seen with minions in tow.  I once had to stop my grandmother from "boxing his ears" when a man in the grocery store said something snide to us.  He saw an old lady, a young woman, a teenager, a preteen, and two smaller children shopping.  He jumped to the Welfare Mom assumption.  

I'd be a liar if I claimed I never used government assistance.  Hell, the name of this blog comes from the fact that I'm on SSDI and Food Stamps.  I'd also be a liar if I claimed I've never known a woman who gave birth for more benefits, or who simply accepted that if she couldn't support her surprise baby, she could get Welfare.  

I am in no way shape or form standing in judgement of Welfare Moms.  What I am saying is that for my entire life THEY taught me that "having babies for government money" is a vile thing to do.  But now there's talk of stimulating the declining American birth rate by... wait for it...  paying people to reproduce.  With government money.  

The dichotomy blows my mind, especially since it's coming from the same people who refer to "the parasite class".  What is the difference?  Anyone who thinks it's okay to cut every birthing mother in America a check needs to reconsider how they feel about Welfare Mom.  

Mainstreaming

I see a lot in the news about special needs children being mistreated in schools.  This is one of the reasons I am not a fan of mainstreaming.  I am of the opinion that if your child is not capable of following the basic rules or doing the work, they should not be mainstreamed.

In the 1970s and 1980s, when I was in public school, we had a Special Education class.  They got the extra help they needed without disrupting anything.  If they only needed help in certain subjects, they attended regular classes for the others.  I had "sped" friends -- one of them is my sister-in-law now.  The system was hardly perfect, but it worked.

Too many children today are being mainstreamed who simply should not be.  I saw a story about an autistic boy being "slammed onto the ground and handcuffed" because he was acting out in class.  More research revealed that the boy was a danger to himself and others.  He was handcuffed for that reason only - and had thrown himself to the ground.

A child who can follow the basic rules and can do the work with a little extra help?  No problem.  Get them a tutor, or a Special Education class, and go for it.  Let a nonverbal child do an oral report as a written one.  The student with leg braces might have to violate the dress code.  Those things I can back. 

Mainstreaming is meant to be a kindness, but it really isn't.  Not for the children with more severe issues or for their classmates.  The classmates are expected to learn in a chaotic environment.  The child is going to go out into the world upon graduation, thinking that they can succeed.  In what field is 60% excellent work?  In what profession is it acceptable to hit yourself or others? 

Proponents of mainstreaming say it's good for the child's self-esteem.  I support that.  But we also have to teach them how the world works.  Build them up within their limitations.  "Yes, you have problems with X, but you are so good at Y."

As for bullying... Bullying isn't going anywhere.  There will always be bullies, everywhere.  At school, at work, at family reunions.  If you take their ammunition, they will find something else.  Example: School uniforms stop bullying about clothes - until they see each other outside of school.  Uniforms do nothing when a student is bullied about weight.  The same logic applies to mainstreaming.  In fact, mainstreaming exposes some children to more bullying.

"No child left behind." Mainstreaming might do that, but at what cost?  We end up with completely unprepared adults, with excellent self-esteem, getting left behind.  Some children should be left behind, out of the main stream.  They become the adults who maintain the tranquility of the shallows.

Hobbies Are Selfish?

Imagine you're in a thrift store and you overhear the following exchange by the baby clothes:

Lady: How old is your little one?

Second Lady: I don't have a little one.  I use this fabric for a hobby.

Lady: You take from impoverished babies for your hobby?!  That's very selfish!  You should be ashamed of yourself!  

(BTW - this did not happen to me.  It happened to a member of the on-line doll community.)

Who made anyone the boss of what we can and can't do for hobbies?  Even if you think the hobby in question is dumb, or selfish in this case, why attack a total stranger?  Hobbies only appear selfish until you look at the bigger picture.

Hobbyists contribute.  Second Lady's money goes to supporting whatever charity runs the thrift store, or simply to a local business.  My father quilted and often his work sold at his church's fund raisers.  That money went on to help others.  He gave them to family, which both saved money and spread a little joy.

Hobbyists are less likely to act out harmfully.  Why do I write novels I'm too scared to submit to publishers?  Why play with dolls at 52?  Why have a flowerbed?  Why collect anything?  So I don't lose the few marbles I have left and hurt someone. 

Flower gardeners (both the chaotic sort and the neat grouping sort) spread joy and help pollinators keep the planet functional.  Vegetable gardeners do both and feed people.  Collectors just might have something that can put Junior through college.  Art of any sort fills proven psychological needs.

Hobbies are not selfish. 






 

Walk Up, Not Out

Like many well-intended people, I was sharing the "Walk Up" notion all over my social media, but some folks for whom I have respect have pointed out a few problems. 

Some of those against "Walk Up" claim there's no proven connection between school shootings and bullying.  There's no proven connection of ANYTHING and school shootings because there's never been a real study made of it.  However, even the shooters "proven" not to be bullied left behind evidence they felt bullied.  I was badly bullied in junior high and, had my mind already had a violent bent, I could have gone there and done that. The connection, although unproven, is possible. 

There's also the possibility of making a kid feel even more singled out than they already do.  Why are you falling all over yourself to be nice to me when yesterday you ignored my very existence or were overtly hostile to me?  Pity?  Fear? If I am violent, you just made yourself more of a target, and if not - well, you just insulted a harmless classmate.

And then there's the perception that this is a Blame The Victim thing.  Go befriend the guy who, yesterday, you were actively bullying?  WTF?  Why not just say it - the murdered students brought it on themselves.  (Look how they were dressed!)

Last of all, there is a small possibility that such overtures will make a dangerous kid latch onto you.  Another bit of anecdotal evidence:  I latched onto a guy because he was nice to me.  God only knows how bad it would have been a few years earlier, during the the worst of it.  As it was, he finally had to be really mean to me and then we talked it out.  But what would have happened, had I been violent?  When I found out he didn't want to marry me and live happily ever after, would I have killed him?

Here's my version of "Walk Up".  Just be a little bit nicer to everyone. As a former pariah, I can tell you - a smile and nod as you pass in the hallway goes a long way.  One of the kindest things a classmate did for me was to tell me she liked me -- and then ask me not to tell anyone because she didn't want to be bullied, also.   Strange but true. 

Even if the connection to bullying doesn't exist, a touch of kindness that singles out no one can't hurt.   

Tarred With The Same Brush

My mother warred with the school, usually for justifiable reasons,  But there were times... like when my sister didn't want to take a required class or the English teacher who punished my brother for saying "ain't".  A few of my siblings were trouble-makers and the ones who weren't, Mother made up for.

I was the seventh Schmidt to go through that school.  Very few of the faculty saw me as the quiet, scholarly thing I was.  I was a trouble maker from the moment they saw my name on the roll.  One teacher even confronted me the first day of class to tell me as much.  That would have been bad enough, but the class in question was something I was looking forward to.  Eagerly.  Like Christmas. 

Creative Writing.  A subject already near and dear to my heart.  On one assignment, my character was meant to be brutally honest but came across - in the words of a classmate - like "an asshole."  I asked for advice on how to write the character better and the boy responded with something along the lines of "stop being stupid".  She ignored the vulgarity and the verbal abuse.  She had a student, near tears, in her class room and did nothing. 

The "Asshole" incident was only the most egregious example - in that class and in others.  Because I was a Schmidt, I deserved it.  It's on a much smaller scale, I admit, than racism or homophobia or religious prejudice. But the principle is the same. 

I've also been on and off Welfare all my life and been on the receiving end of "Get a job" (usually when I was already employed).  I've had people make snide comments to me because there's no way that lady using Food Stamps is not the mother of those kids that are with her. (I'm The Aunt.) 

I don't get offended at jokes about stereotypes.  I see them as a useful tool against ignorance. I will, however, give you the sharp side of my tongue if you believe those stereotypes.  Most of any given group are good people.  If I defend whites against being tarred by the same brush as the KKK, it is not because I'm white.  I'm just as likely to defend Muslims against the ISIS brush. 

Because no matter who you hit with it, no matter how small it is, that brush bruises souls.

Keyboard Vigilantes

This isn't about Keyboard Warriors - that would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black.  A good Keyboard Warrior is civil, respectful, and logical.  This is about individuals who think they have the right to censor what other individuals say or do.  Not by reporting the offensive thing to the service provider, but by attacking the speaker and anyone who agrees.

Two pictures have sparked outrage and even gotten me unfriended:  Section Eight Barbie and Welfare Barbie.  Section Eight Barbie was the standard blonde - but pregnant, with two or three toddlers around her, and leaning on the wall of stereotype Project Housing.  The children were not the same race as their implied mother.  Welfare Barbie is also the pregnant blonde, but she's pushing a shopping cart full of beer, cigarettes, and toddlers.  None of these toddlers is the same race as their implied siblings.

While no one said in so many words that I wasn't allowed to share or laugh at them, the implication was there.  We who shared the joke and anyone who didn't respond with moral outrage was a racist snob - never mind the fact that many of us have "dated outside our race" and/or are, ourselves, drawing government benefits. Never mind an established pattern of behavior that showed how non-racist and non-snob we are.

In the case of Section Eight Barbie,  the "racist snob" didn't even notice that the children were of a different race.  She saw someone making fun of the official version of Barbie and shared it with me, her favorite Barbie Girl.

I often share Welfare Barbie myself, usually in response to jackasses who believe the Welfare Stereotype. I see the white mom with three kids - one Asian and one black - as nothing more than visual shorthand for promiscuity.

I'm in a Facebook group about The Walking Dead.  You know, that TV show with zombies being the nicest of the bad guys?  Someone there posted a pun about if Judith (a baby) had been caught by the cannibal bad guys she'd be Baby Back Ribs.  You can probably guess the rest.

So...  here is a list of the things I find offensive.  Polarized politics, Willful Ignorance, Thinking men should be able to read women's minds instead of taking them at their word, Looks taking priority over Heart and Brain, Religious fanaticism.  I do not attack people for these things, particularly if they are obviously mocking them.  But I'm the crazy person.

You can't write that!

Over the years, I've gotten grief for writing about characters that are different from me.  The main one has been racial - I have no right to use Cherokee characters because I am not Cherokee.  Never mind my deep respect for all native cultures, the things all humans have in common, and mere fact that I love these fictional people.

Using the same logic...  Stephen King shouldn't write about all manner of supernatural creatures, rabid dogs, or gunslingers.  The Hillerman Navajo Tribal Police books should not exist.  JK Rowling should have never written the Harry Potter series.  Entire genres of fiction should not be - in fact, fiction itself should not be.

A wise man once said a writer should take "write what you know" with the widest possible interpretation.  He also said that every character you create is partly you.  I don't remember if it was from the same wise man, but another good rule is "write what you are passionate about".

My Cherokee character started out in a tertiary role.  I made him Cherokee simply to add some diversity to the setting.  Once he grew on me, I learned as much as I could.  And that was when the grief-givers appeared.  I'm willing to bet those are the same people who complain about all white folks thinking the Cherokee live in teepees.

I've gotten praise from lesbians for my portrayal of a lesbian relationship - and I all I do is write them like any couple. Olivia is surprised when they get invited to Ann's ex-husbands wedding.  Ann thinks Olivia is too frugal.  They don't bicker over the teenager's curfew, but only because it never comes up.  My characters "of color" have never drawn criticism for being inaccurate.  Granted, I'm writing in a modern setting, but still...

I write what I know, what I'm passionate about.  Olivia, despite having a Korean mother and a wife, is probably the most like me.  A large part of Megan is based on my brother-in-law.  I will not apologize for having characters that are not small-town straight white girls.  I will ignore you if my attempts to accurately portray a world in which I never lived are met by contempt.  I will embrace you (maybe even literally) if you help me do it!

Bullying, Again

I pontificated before about the bullying problem and what I think should be done about it.  This one is for the kids.  Not the victims, not the bullies.  The other kids.  The ones who aren't sure what to do or how to do it.  The ones who will say "I didn't do anything to him."

I'm speaking from my own experience as a bullied junior high schooler.  Strange as it may seem, one of the kindest things a classmate ever did for me was a note.  It said "Please don't tell anyone because I don't want to be picked on, too.  I like you.  I think you are nice." With her signature.  I've never forgotten that.  That girl reached out to me the only way she felt she could.

A couple of other girls reached out, too, They gave me a makeover during Study Hall.  Maybe it was just that I was the only one who would let them, I really don't know.  When they finished and held up the mirror, I expected to look ridiculous.  I thought the whole thing was a set up, a means to humiliate me, but it wasn't.  They even offered to give me some of their make-up that they didn't want anymore. (I suspect knowledge of my family's poverty had more to do with it, but they wanted to protect my pride.)  One girl offered me clothes she didn't wear any more.  I declined the offers - I just knew it was a trap.  When I wore the offered cosmetics and clothing, they would make sure they entire school knew I was a rag picker.

Why did I feel that way?  When the teacher left the music classroom and the bullies pushed me into a corner, going through my purse and making fun of the contents, or just making fun of the purse itself...  No one spoke up.  A couple dozen kids let them do it.  To me, that said I deserved it.  That said we hate you just as much as those guys do.  That said I was loathed by the entire student body.

My period as the victim was only a year or two, but at the time it was forever.  All those kids who I know now did not hate me...  I just want to apologize to every one of them.  I want to tell them I understand why they didn't act.  But at the time, their loathing of me was a fact.  

So, boys and girls, the next time you see a classmate being pushed around, realize how your silence is perceived.  Realize that, in their eyes, you are either cheering the bullies on or - maybe worse - you don't care either way.  Even if you don't have the courage to confront the bully on their behalf (the best course), the least you can do is a kind word when no one is looking.

Why didn't I stand up for myself?  No one else stood up for me, at a time in my life when the opinions of your peers is crucial, so maybe I thought I deserved it.  (Well, I did eventually stand up for myself.  I like to think the small kindnesses mentioned above helped me to do so.)  Why didn't I just stop being *insert adjective*?  It's easy to blame the victim, maybe even part of human nature, so don't beat yourself up too much if you've done it.  A lot of the things kids get bullied over are beyond their control.  I couldn't make my mother get off Welfare, I wasn't allowed to do "normal" things, and I sure couldn't stop doing things I didn't know were "wrong".

So, you other kids, I give you life from the perspective of at least one bullying victim.  It's not enough to not bully.  It's not enough to feel sorry for them.  You have to act, even if all you do is plead with them not to blab the fact that they don't hate you.

Bullying

With the new school year upon us, there's an upsurge in talk of bullying.  Having been a victim of bullying and a pseudo-parent, I thought I would toss my opinions into the ring. Peer pressure has long been seen as a means of social control, and it can have positive outcomes. The egregious examples of bullying, of course, are the ones we hear about the most. The ones who drive the victim possibly as far as suicide.  But often it is simply peer pressure gone wrong.

When I was in junior high, I was hygienically challenged and I clung to things my classmates had left far behind.  I got un-stinky and (as far as they knew) I'd given up childish pursuits, so they zeroed in on the clothes.   These were what I consider real bullies.  The ones that, if they sense a weakness, will exploit it.  My wardrobe was mostly hand-me-downs and my youngest sister was five years my senior.  In 1978, I was wearing 1973 (if that new) fashions.  Finally, my stepmother took me shopping for new school clothes.  Finally, I was in the same clothes the cheerleaders were wearing!  That did not shut the real bullies up.  They started in on my hairdo, or my lack of make-up, or anything they could.  That was when I gave up.  Not gave up as in suicide. I gave up trying to please them.

I know it isn't always so simple - especially if the bullying is physical - but in my case that worked.  By the tenth grade, I was largely accepted.  Or at least left alone.  I've always tried to encourage that in the children I know.  Ignoring the bullies is best, if possible.  They simply do not matter.  I also give my kids instruction in how not to be a bully, because I do believe it can happen by accident or by omission.

If you tease a classmate for being really short, does it hurt their feelings?  Make sure it doesn't - let them know you are just playing.  Everyone playfully teases the people they like, and to teach our kids different is just going to confuse them.  If you see a classmate being hurt - emotionally or physically - get up and defend them.  As a parent, teacher, or doting aunt, it is the adult's job to teach children that even kids they don't like do not deserve to be bullied.

What to do if you are being bullied?  Something I find alarming is that most practical solutions will get the victim into at least as much trouble as the bully.  Retaliate, either physically or verbally?  You get busted, both by the school and frequently by both sets of parents.  To tattle on the bully is counterproductive - he is gonna deny it and then beat you up worse later.  Banding together with the other victims, for some psychological or sociological reason, does not happen.

What to do if you see someone else being bullied? The same logic applies here.  One who intervenes will likely end up in the same situation as one who retaliates.  Teachers have to actually witness the incident themselves before they can take action, but who wants to always hang around the teachers?

So, what do we do?  We, as a society, need to stop this.  Because it ain't just the kids doing it.   As a kid, I was bullied by the same adults that were supposed to be protecting me.  Gym teachers who heard the mocking of my peers and said nothing - or even joined in.  An English teacher branded me a trouble maker, just on the basis of my surname.  Parents, even.  As an adult, it can be co-workers or bosses who give you extra work while they chat.  Your child's teacher who condescends to you because you work at Burger King.  The other parents who refuse to chat with you at pick-up time.

Entire dissertations have been written on why bullies bully.  What it boils down to, really, is because they gain power from it.  We need to take that power.  When your kid comes home with a detention slip because he stood up for himself, or someone else, then do not punish him.  He did the right thing.  Or the wrong thing for the right reasons.  "Bobby got detention for fighting, but his parents didn't ground him" sends a message, and not just to Bobby.

Granted, I'm no expert, and there are always exceptions, but I think the problem with bullying is that we've taken away the Leave It To Beaver solution.  Teach the victim to fight - emotionally, physically, verbally - if attacked. Teach our young to defend each other - even that annoying girl who has a crush on you - from the bullies.  Take back our playgrounds, our parks, our sidewalks.  Hell, even our Internet.  Go on the offensive.

The Customer is frequently wrong.

People now think they can take their pets into a store or restaurant.  All they have to do is claim it is a Service Animal.  Or say something about how cruel it would be to leave Fido in the hot car.  Here's a couple of thoughts on the subject - if you can't be apart from your pet long enough to get some groceries or a Big Mac, there are much bigger issues at hand.  Yes, sometimes things happen you don't expect.  You are coming home from the dog park and realize you need a jug of milk.  That's not what I'm talking about - I'm talking about expecting the staff of a business to let you break the law because you want to be there for at least a half an hour.

If you have one of those Saver Cards that get you ten cents off a gallon "on your next fill up", read the small print.  It's usually your next gas purchase, and if you waste that discount on a smaller one, do not scream at the cashier.  You fell for the hyperbole of advertising - and she did not write the ad.  She also is not allowed to take expired coupons.  

Twelve items or less (grammar Nazi wincing here) means you are not supposed to unload two carts.  If your cashier is underage, she is required by law to call over another person to scan your booze or smoke.  A place is going to close and open according to their clock, not yours.  

If your child is using safety features at the gas station or a cart corral as a monkey bar, do not get bent when the employees ask them not to.  They are just trying to keep your kid alive and the business from being sued. They really are minding their own business.

 

Lookism (as much as I hate -ism terminology)

A proud parent shows you a picture of the offspring holding an Honor Roll Certificate, a diploma, or a degree.  If your response is about the physical attractiveness of the kid, you are the person I'm going to be ranting about.

I see it a lot on social media and it makes my blood boil. There are times when a comment on one's looks is quite appropriate, but the proper response to this sort of thing is "Good job" or "Way to go."  Even "Looking good" might work, as it can be interpreted as "You have a bright future".  But if I win the Nobel Peace Prize and you can only focus on what I look like, you need to just go away. I was, in my youth, a passably attractive woman, but that got me nothing positive.  What I've accomplished in my life, I have done through my brains and my heart.

I did not get a diploma or an AAS by posing in a bikini.  People who need help with school work, or just research in general, don't contact me because they want to look at me.  My nephew did not move me into his house to help raise his son because I'm so pretty.  I do not get rescued from the roadside when my car breaks down because I'm sexy.  

Then there's the fat-shaming and the skinny-shaming.  Unless a person's weight is a health issue, it does not matter.  I'm fat, but if making fun of skinny girls makes me feel better about myself, that's a problem.  Fat or Skinny, you can be beautiful. If it matters.

Either way, if you had to be stranded on a deserted island with a hateful, stupid person or a kind, bright one... would their looks matter?  "I don't have much, but I've got cute kids" tells me nothing that impresses me.  I have helped raise many kids, and I will boast to you about what good people they are or how smart they are.  If they are good-looking, that might come up.  Eventually.

If all you or your kids can accomplish is being ornamental, I pity you and them.  But try to make me or mine be nothing but an ornament, we're gonna tangle.  And I have a very wide definition of "me or mine".  It might well include some of you and yours.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I was out of reading material, so I hit the local public library.  After debating checking out a biography of Rutherford B. Hayes (to whom I may be distantly related), I found a bunch of "true ghost stories" books and took them all!  Most of the ones I've read so far aren't impressive - lots of weird mists and funny noises - but they have me wanting to share my own ghost experiences.

My mother's brother Art died nearly ten years before I was born, but I knew him.  He was the family ghost.  We heard him all the time, walking down the front hall from the kitchen and then up the stairs.

I had a friend over one day, playing a board game in my room.  We heard someone on the stairs and when she looked, no one was there.  I told her it was just Art, the family ghost.  She mocked me and then flew down the stairs when "someone sat on edge of the bed".

It was common knowledge that I believed in ghosts.  One day at school, a classroom door opened all by itself and someone said "Hey, Jean, your ghost is here."  I glanced over and said "Shut the door, Art."  The door closed right away!

I woke one night to see a non-menacing human figure standing over me.  "Art?"  The figure nodded and I went back to sleep.

Now, I am willing to admit an errant wind may have moved the classroom door and the figure standing over me might have been a dream.  His sitting on the side of the bed may have been her imagination.  But Art's footsteps in the hall and stairs was not the house settling - he had a recognizable tread, just like the rest of the family.

Now for a tale of Art that I personally did not experience.  Once upon a time, the entire family went out for a day trip.  The next day, a neighbor teen confessed (to my brother) having planned to break into our house, but a man glared at him through the window when he tried.  From his description, we knew it was Art.

When Art was a child, his father died.  He told Art to take care of his (Art's) mother and sister, that he was the man of the house now.  My mother and grandmother both died in the late 1990's and I believe Art has moved on.  Taking care of Mom and Marian was his Unfinished Business.