For all little girls and boys in the world
After a long meeting and an all-too-long career with teachers and parents and various adults who have given up on kids.
This is dedicated to all the little girls and boys out there who have adults in their lives who don't believe, anymore, in them and everything they can be. Yeah, you. You know who I'm talking about. I'm talking to you, kid.
A little advice, kids. Pardon my french. But, fuck 'em. Every last one of them. They're wrong. You can be whatever you want to be. Don't listen to adults or anyone who's given up on themselves and, thus, on you and everyone else.
And for the adults who have done so. You probably need to take a moment, to think, for just a second, about that little boy or little girl inside of you. That cute, pudgy one who was always afraid about what everyone else thought about them. And you might take a moment to remember at what point that little boy or little girl started to give up on themselves.
I just want you to remember, if even for a moment, what it was like to still believe in yourself before all those fears about what you couldn't possibly be started to overwhelm your dreams about what you could be, given enough heart and effort to make it so. And you want to do so to help you get honest about the fact that you talking kids and people and yourself up or talking them down is the likely the single most important thing that you could do to either support or sabotage a child. Or yourself. Or anyone for that matter.
So talk your kids up. Talk all kids up. As high as they can go. As high as their dreams will take them.
Play pretend trumpets with them. And pirates. And princesses. And Indie pop stars.
And, more to the point, stop talking kids down. Stop talking yourself down. Stop talking everyone down. And stop taking those foolish fears you live inside of so seriously.
Get busy finding a life you love. And stop talking down kids and everyone else around you.
And, in the meantime, kids. Listen to Aunty Ingrid. She knows what she's talkin' about.
And when adults tell you different, tell them to go fuck themselves. Not out loud, of course. Because you'll probably get smacked. They're still bigger, after all.
But in your heart. Tell them to go fuck themselves. Nicely. You know. As nicely as you can tell someone to go fuck themselves.
And go be whatever you want to be. For real. Find a life you love. I mean it.
And, while you're working and patiently waiting for that life to come through, love the one you have now. Because I said so, that's why. And go give your mom and dad a kiss, why don't ya. And go clean your room, for Christs' sakes.
For your own sake. And for the sake of your own children.
Oh, and by the way. Thanks mom. You were right. I love you.
4 comments:
Many of your posts about soft power are brilliant.
Many of your posts about the twisted nature of our current politics are insightful and thought-provoking (even when I disagree with them).
Many of your posts about musical crushes... Well, I sorta skip some of those because we have decidedly different tastes in music sometimes...
ANYWAY... Of all the posts you've written, this one is probably your best.
I don't know if you had that little "damn, I am SO right" feeling when you hit the publish button on this one but if you did, it was warranted.
FUCK THEM! INDEED!
Carson
It's the one time I'd really be cool with kids cussing out an adult, teacher or otherwise, Carson.
If I was a kid and I ever had to listen to half the shit about myself that I've heard teachers say about kids, I would feel fully justified without second thoughts to tell a teacher to go fuck themselves if they ever bet against me because I wasn't doing what they wanted in the moment.
I've said it to myself many times in my life. And I will gladly to say it to any teacher who thinks their opinion meant more than it did today.
I don't care how nice or mean or smart or successful or stupid or utter fuckin' failure you are. You bet against a kid or anyone, for that matter, with more eye to your self-centered need to be right about something than to the need for every kid and every human being to experience success and recognition of their efforts than you can go fuck yourself.
And every kid, and every person, should tell anyone who would bet against them in that way to go fuck themselves. And to look out for themselves even if nooone else will.
And, at this point in our "evolution," that is about the best that most kids and people can count on, I'm afraid. And so be it. And fuck the haters, in the meantime. I don't care if you're Ingrid Michaelson or the Rock, everyone deserves their shot at greatness.
Your life is better spent doing what Ingrid does. I certainly would be more proud of Ingrid Michaelson as my child than Dwayne Johnson. But I'd love them and encourage them both. Even as I'd probably bring a really good book to Dwayne's wrestling matches. Or some decent company who I could analyze the business model with.
It makes me sad, Carson, that most of my kids have never heard from someone they love that they can do anything they want. And that they haven't really aspired, consequently, in part. Every kid should know what it's like to have a parent tell them they can be whatever they want to be. And that they'll love them no matter what. What's the point in being a kid if you don't walk around life all the time with that stuff on your heart?
I know my kids will. And I'm doing my best to make sure that my students know that too (though it's really not PC to go around telling students that you love them; most teachers feel it, but it might feel kinda creepy to hear it out loud). But every kid should have at least one adult in the world who is firmly in their corner, no matter what. Through thick and thin. And with an eye to being the best they can be.
And if they don't, I think every kid should feel gypped. And then make sure that their kids get what they missed.
If we did that, and we genuinely loved children when it counted, and not just when it was convenient, an awful lot of the shittiness in the world would get a serious rest. Something tells me Osama Bin Laden wasn't loved too much or Martin Luther King loved too little. I'm pretty sure there is no such thing as being loved too much.
Be nice if that was the way politicians proved their worthiness. Which ones loved their kids more. For real. Rather than which one of them can kick everyone's ass hardest, including their kids'. I'm pretty sure that would make us better people and more willing to work for common cause, not weaker or worse.
But to do so takes the kind of courage that isn't nurtured terribly well in the circles of power, I'm afraid.
And I'll be goddamned if I'll be following the examples of such assholes in my lifetime. I'll take my own example over that, thank you very fucking much.
Because I got kids that will depend on me, for the long length of their lives, for the shit that really counts, much more than they will ever depend on anyone with a D or an R beside their name.
I agree with Anon. You outdid yourself on this one, Ben.
I had a great childhood with a loving family, but I was still an awkward kid who seemed to attract the negative attention from bitter people in authority, even during early adulthood in the military.
Only later did I realize that these bitter people were failures and just had to take it out on other people.
I have taught my kids how to identify such people. You can listen to them (often they are in authority so you have no choice), you can learn from them (even bitter people can teach us things), but never, never, never let them define you.
Thanks, bud. That's exactly it, too. You can listen. But, ultimately, you get to define your own life. And that's the beauty of America, I think. That's what it means to live in the land of the free, even if that notion is getting short shrift, these days.
It makes me sad that kids don't hear that from every adult in their lives, no matter where they're at on their journey of life. But they'll hear it from me. And they might fall down on that journey. They probably will. Everyone does, at some point.
But they'll know with me, and everyone in my life should know with me, that no matter when or where they've fallen down, I'm in their corner. For real. And they can just pick back up and move forward, as far as I'm concerned. And I'll do what I can to support them.
That's what I like about this song. I don't care, anymore, if that's a popular notion or makes a lot of money or wins Nobel Prizes or not. Because I think it matters, no matter what rewards or not. It certainly matters to me with my kids. And I don't care, anymore, whether it matters to anyone else, anymore, frankly. Because being that kind of person is who I am. Whether it wins Nobel Prizes or not.
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