Entries Tagged 'Philosophy' ↓

On media misrepresentation

Good thing Law and Order ended when it did for me, or else I wouldn’t have popped back onto twitter, seen this stream and had something to bitch about tonight.

Discovery Health’s Radical Parenting episode.

Disclosure: I didn’t watch the show, and a lot of my point of view has been surmised from posts reviewing the show, like this one.

I’m getting really tired of the constant labelling. What purpose does media serve, other than to create divisions, by using the word radical in reference to allowing a child of any gender to ignore the stereotypical gender roles and their denominating colours of pink and blue? How is global thought furthered by calling early potty trainers or elimination communicators extremists? Natural learners aren’t deviants, at all – they’re people who believe in learning, as most parents do.

These are all practices that are embraced and considered natural for parents to engage in, in most countries of the world. But for some reason, our little sector of the planet feels the need to cast about judgments and throw stones.

I breastfed until my daughter was done. She chose, not me. We started potty training when she showed initiative toward it – not sooner, because we didn’t have the communication (nor I the patience) in place for EC. If the media thinks that holding your baby over a pot to pee is militant, they should examine any other culture wherein wealth isn’t as prevalent or wasted. If ‘allowing’ boys to play with dolls and girls to wear blue while embracing their inner GI Joe is revolutionary, then I have to ask at a decibel-level just under a yell, why?

Why is that something to allow in the first place – it’s creative play. Creative play is shown, studies over, to create compassionate, open-minded and intelligent youth.

What do people who do consider this leftist see as the risk of allowing it? The stereotype, a homosexual child? A gender-confused one? Will little Billy will end up wanting to be Jill at 24 and you’ll be able to look way back in his history and remember how he baked cookies with mom?

It’s bullshit, narrow-minded, and as far as I’m concerned, a few minor rungs short of spreading hatred. It’s the media’s equivalent of us vs. them, normal vs. wrong, sane vs. unbalanced.

This kind of stuff is largely why I stopped following a lot of media – why I don’t have cable TV, read the newspaper or listen to the radio – the fear tactics, the creative labelling, and the need to put a title on every single little thing so that millions upon millions of people can all fit into little boxes that, ultimately, a corporation has created for them.

One of the first philosophical conversations my father and I ever had – and we had a lot, because even with the rest of it, we were able to talk for hours about nearly anything logic-based – was what was right and wrong. How that was determined. How do most know what’s ethically right? Or how to raise children? Or that 2+3=5?

Because it’s been deemed so, by a large group, adopted as a general rule, and taken in as a permanent scripture (whether that means biblically, or in a textbook).

Once upon a time, there was no universe, and that’s what people knew was right. A hundred years later, people could laugh at the naiveté.

Better example: How do you know that cigarettes are bad for you? Well, millions of people will tell you so if you ask (and often, if you don’t ask, too. Thanks, fuckers), and lots of those people are doctors, who’ve read or conducted studies and treated patients with various cigarette-caused disease. But less than a century ago, cigarettes were not only not bad for you, they were good for you for various reasons, not the least of which being that they helped you relieve stress during times of war.

But I digress, sort of. The point was to say that we live in a society wherein every moment seems to be throwing new information at us, and it gets hard to know which is the right fact of the moment. Whether soy will give you cancer or lower your cholesterol; whether you can trust a brand to use ethical trade/investment/sales practices; and whether (this was the real piss off, to me) unschoolers have children running around at all hours of the day, unwashed, without discipline, eating tons of doughnuts and ice cream, drinking soda like it’s all that’s left on Earth, playing video games and getting their educations from the trips to the grocery store.

Unschoolers aren’t anarchists. Unschoolers believe in natural education. Period. Just like any other kind of parent, homeschooler, afterschooler, Montessori-embracer, et al, Unschoolers want their children to learn, and to be successful and happy while doing it. Unschooling, just like any (and more) of the other education types I just listed, has a variety of differing practices.

I refuse to be boxed in with a label this show has created that denotes I might practice (what I consider to be just short of) neglect.

As parents, we’re responsible for the health and welfare of our children – I think we can all agree on that. This means, and here’s where some Unschoolers’ practices don’t jive with mine, that we have to look at a five year old and know he’s not emotionally prepared to decide whether to bathe at all. That the seven year old might not be the best person to make choices all the time about their diet. That some children, regardless of age might be able to express tiredness when they are tired, and therefore are capable of going without a set bedtime, but others will stretch themselves past the point of exhaustion, through to insomnia. And so, as parents, it’s our right to ensure that our kids aren’t dirty, on the path to diabetes and 42 cavities, and over-tired all the time. Even if we’re Unschoolers.

What this show did in (what I’m assuming was) an hour is create for viewers a picture of what Unschooling looks like. What they might have taken in is a dirty child, hopped up on sugar, extremely adverse to logic or self-discipline. Or, they could have seen parents that entrusted their children with their own lives. My gut tells me that those who are already versed in Unschooling might have had less judgment, but that’s an assumption.

But here’s the thing: they’re kids, man. They have to grow up a little bit, before they have the neural pathways to even be able to comprehend long-term results, such as malnutrition, tooth decay, diabetes, obesity, illiteracy, long-term  sleep deprivation, dehydration, or inactivity.

Unschooling, to me, is quite simple. It’s the dismissal of an education system that was originally created to encourage drone-like behaviour for times of industrial growth. In Prussia. It’s believing that learning takes place during other hours, not just from 9 to 3, Monday to Friday. It’s saying, ‘hey, my kid can’t sit in a chair for 35 minutes, never mind a few hours until lunch time, but if he gets to run around, he learns about stuff twice as fast. So we’re going to a field to talk about geography.’ It’s providing extreme amounts of support and independence to your children, letting them pursue their own interests, but guiding them toward the tools to gain more knowledge in them. It’s allowing them opportunity and encouraging them to take it and run with it as far as they want to.

It’s why, for the people who do think so, I’m considered intelligent. My inherent ability to hyper-focus on a subject that I’m interested in and educate myself, using a variety of mediums that I know work for me, has given me a pseudo-graduate level of knowledge in a few areas. It’s not because I’m wicked smart, it’s because the opportunity and interest coincide. That’s natural learning, in a nutshell.

It’s why Microsoft exists.

Okay. Before you start hating on Bill, listen to the point.

MS used to be a really damn respected brand, and it was built from one little dude’s brain. (Incidentally, I think Stevie’s story is similar, but I’m not positive.) Bill was a nerd. Bill like computer stuff – what he had access to – so he bartered for more access, in his own time, and started living and breathing the things. Because he was Unschooling himself. His parents allowed him to stay out all hours, knowing he was safe in a gigantic room with a gigantic computer, because they saw the passion he had and the speciality he was amassing.

Get back in the Delorian, and we have Microsoft. And a once-veritable monopoly.

Had Bill’s parents assumed that what he was taking in school was enough, that a bedtime was to be enforced, or that he wasn’t to be trusted with all of this free time, you might not get to use Windows 7 or Vista. I know how sad you’d be, then.

After all of these words, I’ve convoluted (and proved) the initial message: media, like in tonight’s show, is too focused on classing people, which leads to people judging other people.

Some, after watching the show, are now thinking ew, Unschooling, and I’m sitting here going, ‘No! That’s not Unschooling! That’s Unparenting!’.

On not being against it

If you’re not on Twitter, or in Vancouver, or a child of the 80s who follows its remaining pop culture, then it might be a shock to you that Andrew Koenig, the actor who played Boner on Growing Pains, was found in Stanley Park today. He came to Vancouver to kill himself, after living a long time with depression, going off of his medication a year ago, and giving away all of his important possessions at home in LA.

Now, with all due respect to his friends here in Vancouver, and his family and loved ones, who I’m sure are feeling the worst pain they’ve felt in a long time, I’m going to say something that I’m sure 99% of you will disagree with, and the 1% that doesn’t, will probably stay silent about…

I don’t have a problem with suicide.

Yes, it’s a selfish act, usually not fully necessary, and always hurtful toward the people who a depressed (or sick) person is loved by, but it’s a human right.

I also, since I’m going out on a limb here (bye, remaining two readers), don’t have a problem with pre-arranged, full-faculties-based euthanasia.

Here’s the thing about suicide.

When people are really in the thick of it, when they’ve planned and fantasized and all they can think of to find peace is ending it, that’s what they have. It doesn’t matter that there’s a mom and a dad, they’re in constant pain. It doesn’t matter that people tell them they’re loved, because they’re unlovable. That doesn’t get erased because they choose to pick up the phone and call a 1-800 number, or a crisis line – not if it’s a serious, in-your-guts-cancer of the soul.

I appreciate that people come back from being suicidal and after unsuccessful attempts. That’s valiant and the effort it takes is something we should all be proud of, and our loved ones (and we) should celebrate every. single. day. they’re blessed with our presence (and the ability to tread above ground), because it could have not been.

That’s not what I’m addressing. I’m not thinking in terms of gray – I’m speaking of the people who have, for a large portion of their existence, so that it’s become all they know and there is no way to unknow it, terminal depression. I’m talking about the people who genuinely wish they’d never been born, who can only associate their life with hurting others, who see no possible respite, whatsoever from the darkness.

We all have a right to govern how we treat our own bodies. I have no right to tell you that the McDonalds, Jack Daniels, sunshine and an SUV is a form of slow suicide and that you should seek out help, immediately. But I can encourage you to find new ways of coping, yeah.

When someone commits suicide, there’s always this cloud of shame over it. This, ‘aw, that’s too bad. Best thoughts for their family and loved ones‘ that cloaks the simple message that I think we all neglect to note in such a situation: this person is no longer in pain.

When a friend’s grandfather passes away of cancer, what do you say to them? I’m sorry for your loss. Do you need to talk? And eventually, when it’s not insensitive, He’s not in any pain, anymore.

Psychological pain can be the worst kind of sensation a human has to deal with – trust me, if you don’t know it, already. There is no ‘not alone’ when you’re in the dark, in your own head; there’s no opiates that can dull it all forever (without being an accidental form of suicide); you can’t wake up one morning and decide that you’ll change, say the right things at the therapist’s and take the right pills and poof!

Deep psychological pain – the kind that drives a person to the really, serious, planning, no-going-back, happy-once-the-decision’s-made suicides – takes forever to work through. And when living with it has been all of the effort someone could muster for the last six months, year, decade, or lifetime, then fine, I hereby grant them the right to say, “fuck off. I don’t want to try anymore.”

I know how insensitive this post is. I know how too soon. I know there are tons of people who will never ever ever in a million years agree with me. And that’s fine. That’s your opinion. But here’s mine, in a nutshell: his friends and family are heartbroken, but he’s not anymore. His friends and family were heartbroken, while watching him feel broken all of the time, and now that’s over with. He didn’t hurt anyone intentionally, even if his actions did, ultimately, and from what I can surmise, he was very private (and respectful) about his method. What I’m saying is, ‘That’s awful,’ about his depression, not his solution to it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that none of my four attempts were successful, and I’m 99.98% sure that I will never make another attempt at suicide because I’m confident that it would ruin my daughter and that must never ever ever happen. Oh, and I’m happy and not suicidal. But. And this is a huge but.

If I get cancer, or another terminal disease, I reserve the right to party for as long as I can, and celebrate my life, and then end it on my own terms.

That was my father’s plan, originally – but he was so in the thick of denial about his impending death, he didn’t have the chance to do much more than refill prescriptions before he was in a hospice. Four days later, he was in a coma. Three after that, he died, in an incredible amount of pain, with fear and feeling humiliated. There wasn’t anything I, or anyone, could really do at the hospice to ease that pain for him, except for the one statement I could push out to the nurse after he told me that he was scared, “Put him out. Max his ativan and opioids. Bring him as close to it as you legally can, so he doesn’t have to go through anything, anymore.” And they did. And I was thankful on his behalf.

Cancer. It’s an ugly word that people associate with hair loss and chemo, radiation and pink ribbons. It kills, it causes people to rally, it’s like every other person you know has been touched by it. What’s cancer, besides a fucking asshole? It’s cells that grow abnormally. Fast, where they’re not supposed to, virulently. They take over.

What’s clinical depression? It’s a neurons that fire abnormally. Too fast, not enough, sinisterly. A product of nature or nurture or both, neurotransmitters spread like wildfire or forget themselves and rarely come out to play. It’s like every person you know has been touched by it.

I know it’s not the same, and that I might have offended a whole other group by drawing a parallel between the big C and the still-often-whispered little d – but to me, the similarity is clear and strong. No one wants cancer, and it eats you from the inside out, unless you can stop it; no one wants to be depressed, and it eats you from the inside, so there is no out anymore, unless you can stop it.

Sometimes, suicide is the only way to stop it.