Character Education: Political Correctness vs Civility

Years ago, when I was PTA Rabble Rouser in Chief, a parent came to a meeting with an elaborate presentation about something called “character education.” She said that children needed to be taught manners and how to be nice to each other, in school. She backed up her argument with charts and visual aids.  I was a bit taken aback because I thought that manners, tolerance and how to be kind to other people was MY job, at home, as a parent. After pointing out that recommendations for changes to the educational system needed to be implemented by the school board, not the PTA, I went home very puzzled.  A year later, character education became a state mandate.  How was it possible that we needed to mandate the teaching of common decency and civility?

I must be blind or completely out of the loop. It seems that not only did we need character education, a major sector of this country needs a refresher course. Suddenly, people seem to think they can say whatever they want, no matter how mean, intrusive or bigoted. At check-out lines across the country, nutty people feel emboldened to comment nastily on other people, without knowing anything about their challenges, their lives or who they are. A mother struggling with two special needs kids, another young boy and a toddler gets threatened with CPS by the woman in front of her. Wouldn’t it have been kinder to say, “May I help you?” The nephew of a friend, calmly waiting his turn on line in a store suddenly gets called a vile racial epithet for no reason at all, other than some bug-eyed man’s idea of “free speech.” Using the excuse that we no longer have to be “politically correct,” the crazies have come out of the closet.

Calling people names is not “telling it like it is.” Being rude, hostile, loud and threatening does not show strength of character – quite the opposite. What happened to offering assistance? To common courtesy? Tolerance?  Basic human dignity and kindness? Character is defined as the mental and MORAL qualities of an individual. Can we live up to our highest standards instead of the lowest?

Free speech does not mean you can say whatever hateful or hurtful thing that pops into your head. Good character dictates thinking before speaking, in case your words might wound.  Free speech is not verbal vomiting. In a civil society, we need to be just that – civil. Good character means good conduct in the best sense, not because it is politically correct but because it is good. We do not know what another person is going through and it behooves us to take a breath and at least try to be calm and kind. And if we are unable to do that, perhaps we should not speak at all.

Talking to the Bereaved

We seem unable to know what to do or say when a friend is grieving. Too often people resort to stock comments, meant to be comforting which actually are maddening and even hurtful to the bereaved. As a certified grief counselor, I’ve listened to clients cope with the hurt feelings these well-meant but clumsy clichés cause.  Here is a list of things you shouldn’t say, accompanied by what the bereaved person thinks if you do:

“He’s in a better place.”  So, being here on earth with me is not a good place?

“It was his time.” How do you know that? It certainly wasn’t MINE!  This is right up there with the next one:

“God has a special plan for her.” This may be helpful to the deeply religious but for most of us, the idea that there was a good reason to die, especially when this is said about a young person, is ridiculous. There is not a single human being who has direct insight into any cosmic grand plan that does or does not exist. Do not say this to a person who just suffered the death of a loved one.

“Well, after all, she lived a very long life.”  As if you are not supposed to feel sad? Does it matter if your 97 year old mother died? After all, you’ve had her in your life for such a long time – wouldn’t it make sense to grieve? This comment is insensitive and dismissive.

“Call me if you need anything.”  Trust me, the griever is too busy coping with death to pick up the phone. This does not mean that he doesn’t need anything. It means he is too upset to ask.

“You have to be strong.” The person saying this is telling the griever that they are uncomfortable with their emotions. In my opinion, strength is highly overrated. Grief is no time to be stoic.  Sadness, anger, fear and anxiety – all emotions that are symptoms of grief –  cannot be hidden by pretending to be strong.

“Are you over it yet?”  OY!  This was actually said to me by a weird firewood delivery man 3 months (yes, THREE) after my husband died.  I could not even speak. 

      Here is the truth about grief.  You will NEVER get over the death of someone you love.  You WILL be able to live again; you can grow, love, change, experience new things for the rest of your life. At the same time, you will always miss them. There will be random times in the future where you will suddenly feel terribly sad that they are no longer here. This will happen whether your loved one was 10, 50 or 100 years old when they died.

      So, now that we know some of the things NOT to say, what can you say or do for someone in grief? 

      BE THERE.  Show up, bring some nice tea or a plate of cookies and don’t be insulted if your friend just stares at them. 

    “I am here for you.”  Say this and then demonstrate it. Do something that needs to be done – offer to pick up the newspaper or a gallon of milk.  Make dinner, drop it off with a hug and a warm smile.
 

        Actions speak louder than words.  Offer to mow the lawn, take the garbage to the dump, help with shopping.  I am forever grateful to the acquaintance who noticed my mailbox stand was falling apart and simply built me another, came over and replaced it. 

    

       Say their name. People are sometimes afraid to bring up their name, thinking that this will make the person upset.  THEY ARE ALREADY VERY UPSET, and they are worried that no one remembers. Talk about the dead person.  Make it okay for their loved one to tell stories, to share a laugh about something funny they did in life. 

“     "I don’t know how you feel but I am willing to listen.”  Bring a box of tissues and let your friend cry in your presence.  It’s okay to weep a little yourself too. 

        BE THERE later. People usually rally around the time of death and then seem to disappear. Remember that your friend will be grieving for a long time.  Show up later, in 6 months, in a year, as well as immediately after the death.

Kindness, compassion and showing up are the best things you can do.  Saying words that show you care are the best things you can say.

Shattering and Becoming WHOLE Again

Spring is coming; even though it is early March, green shoots are rising up from the damp soil. Birdsong has changed and we are collectively hoping for something positive to generate along with the change in seasons. At least I know I am.

I’ve been focusing on a project that’s been burbling just below the surface, sometimes bursting forth and sometimes lying dormant. Over the years it has metamorphosed from intense journal entries to a sort of memoir to a travel guide for the journey with no map. If you’ve ever grieved, you know what I mean. Now, I have committed to the project and in order to hold myself more accountable, I am going public with it.

It’s a book and its working title is Shattering Grief: Picking up the pieces to become WHOLE again.

My theme (my personal mission?) has always been working through those feelings of brokenness, the sense that your life is in shards after the death of someone so integral to you. That feeling of being shattered was so pervasive that it required a quest of repair. I wanted, no, NEEDED to feel WHOLE again. There have been so many discoveries during this process and the most wonderful one is that now, I feel relatively complete. Was that broken feeling just an illusion? In the same way that grief can masquerade as depression and insanity, perhaps it put on a grand costume of fractured mirrors.  Whether this was real or not, it required a lot of attention.  It compelled me to look at all the pieces of my life and my self and consider each one carefully. By considering the various roles I play in my life and in the lives of family and friends, the possibility of growth and even some change appeared.

Death often creates a sort of identity crisis. We can cope with this by considering who we thought we were and who we are now. We can use our relationship as the foundation on which to rebuild; to use qualities of our loved one as some of the bricks. We can enhance our own abilities and develop new interests. Slowly, we can begin to ask another question.  Who do I want to be? And how can I accomplish that?

Remembering Lyn

My meditation walk is covered with yellow and brown leaves but the centers of energy around which I traverse can be brushed off.  Today I will walk in honor of a friend who left this earth on Sunday.

She was very tall and skinny and had been on life-sustaining, cancer abeyance medications for 4 years.  Her struggle to stay alive was coupled with her struggle to continue to work despite dizzying side effects. A gentle soul who cared deeply about ecology, peace and her daughters, we shared several threads of connection: the people we knew and living locations although at different times. Lyn was the Volunteer Coordinator at the hospice where I worked for some time and always tried to offer ideas for working with children since she had run creative programs for little ones for many years.

About a month ago, I visited Lyn in her home. She was still trying treatments but her body was rejecting even hydration attempts. She could no longer drive but she had many friends providing help.  She wanted to clear the energy in her home and we developed an affirmation for her to hold with intent. She wished to release negative thinking and ask for what she needs.  I gently suggested that she ask to receive whatever this was, including peace.  I lit sage and wafted it all over her home, upstairs and down, into nooks and corners, over boxes, books and bedclothes.  Lyn sat on her couch with her eyes close, desperate to hold on to the thinning cord of life that she still had.  With sympathy and love, I made her lunch and then gave her a cardboard circle and some pastels.  She made herself a shield with a golden center, black lines jagging out of the circle and blue lines of peaceful energy pointing in.  Then she said she was tired and I left.

Last week another former colleague and I went to see Lyn in the hospital.  We gave her a stone engraved with the word Peace and another that said “One Day at a Time.” She clutched them both and said she was scared but she also had what she needed – her two daughters had returned to be with her.  Lyn finally decided to enter Hospice on Friday.  My colleague felt that she would be more comfortable there and would probably feel better for a week or two; I thought I would have time to visit her again. But we did not know what was happening inside her.  Perhaps having finally accepted that death was near, she relaxed and let go.  Lyn floated into peace on Sunday.  She was a gentle, loving person and now, she has melted into that peaceful energy that surrounds us.

Today I will walk in Lyn’s memory rather than attend her funeral. I am glad I got to see her, hug her frail body, one more time before she left.  Relax, Lyn. You’ve been holding on for a long time.  You deserve this peace.

Help for the Helpers?

                            When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.

                                                                                            ~ Thomas Jefferson

I visited with an old friend this week and much reminiscing and catching up was shared.  At this stage in our lives, we spent some time on health issues. He raised an interesting point, one that I sadly admit I had not considered. He spoke about searching for a respectful, compassionate oncologist when his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. He shared that one doctor dismissed him after being introduced, without even a greeting, and summarily banished him to a seat in the corner, behind her computer screen which effectively blocked the view of his wife.  He felt disenfranchised and hurt.  He said, “there is no support for the men in this equation when your partner has cancer.”

I caught my breath because he is right.  There are a lot of expectations on the male partner when a woman has a diagnosis of cancer, particularly when it is one that seems to have sexual connotations. Women struggle with how breast cancer treatment will affect their body image as well as their desirability and need the support of their lovers and husbands to help them through. Conversely, the partner of a man with prostrate cancer, in the midst of stepping up and caring for him, might also be dealing with fears and worries about losing an integral part of their relationship as a result.

What is the impact on these supportive partners? Who is considering and helping them? If you are or have been in that position, what do you need?  Please comment and share!