Although I don't think my parents ever did anything very dramatic to teach me a lesson, there is one particular episode that remains forever imprinted on my mind.
I was five years old and it was the night before the annual Vichy Elementary Fun Run. Big day. My mom had signed up to volunteer the next morning at the registration table, and I was going to join her, being a big-helper-girl and all. At least... that's what I thought.
The specifics of the situation are still a little murky to me. Apparently, I broke something. But not just "broke something" my mom reminds me. I maliciously and spitefully cast her cow-shaped, milk pitcher to the ground. The parents say I was angry about not getting my way. So I had a fit and broke that pitcher, as if showing them the strength of my emotion would change their minds. Guess what? It didn't.
Instead, the pronouncement came: "Caroline, you can't go with your mom to the Fun Run early tomorrow. You have to stay home."
Torture.
Even as a child, before I started elementary school, my extroverted tendencies were in full force. The idea of being surrounded by hundreds of people, brimming with energy in the name of educational philanthropy and physical activity, really excited my little four foot frame. I think I also liked to be in charge of things. Needless to say, I had patiently awaited the morning of the Fun Run. The day I would fulfill my young, extroverted fantasies of directing crowds of people, manning registration tables, and pinning paper numbers to strangers’ clothing. What a nutty kid!
It may sound silly, but I remember more vividly this punishment than any I have ever received.
I remember waking up early the morning of the race, hoping that my mom and dad had forgotten the events of the night before. But my nightmare had come true. Mom calmly reminded me that I could not come with her. I still wouldn’t accept it. I screamed and cried as she pulled the old Volvo station wagon out of the garage. I ran after the car and held on to the rear view mirror (no joke.) To no avail.
This is the day I learned that I could not always get my way. And that throwing a fit just made things worse. Boy did it hurt.
PS Whoever gets the hidden grad student joke in this post wins a prize!
Speaking of grad school, I just finished my first year! It was challenging on many levels, but God was infinitely gracious and compassionate. Hallelujah!
7 comments:
Oh, you nutty little child...
I can picture you running out of your house after the car and all. How adorable.
Aww, too bad I can't win the prize... still a cute blog, though. Is throwing a fit something you've been doing at school?
Adios now,
-Rafael Alejandro
CONGRATS on finishing the first year!!! I'll keep looking for the grad school joke... =)
have you been studying foucault?
E Kim wins the prize!!!
"Discipline and Punish" is a book by Michel Foucault. I haven't actually read it but people talk so much about it in grad school...
Raf, you're probably on to something with the whole throwing a fit thing. I think I am learning again that life isn't always the way I planned it :)
Thanks for all the comment love friends :)
Heh, its a great experience to learn from and maybe one day apply to your own kids, it is kinda tough though deciding when exactly punishment is appropriate. I'm glad you survived grad school and that you can now reflect on where you've come and to where you will go both with God by your side and in your academic pursuits.
I'm glad your holding onto those memories, they are something we should all (including myself) cherish more.
BTW in response the title of Foucault's work, originally in french it is not actually "discipline and punish" but its Surveiller et punir: Naissance de la prison. which is more akin to the English to supervise/ to watch over (surveillance) and to punish (both are actually in infinitive cases, not nouns). But since it sounds better to say discipline in English they went with that i guess? But surveiller captures more the overall message of the panopticon and the power of the ever present threat of punishment in his book. Ah well I guess I'm nitpicky.
Congratulations on finishing your first year Caroline!
What do you think of Foucault? I don't understand much of what he wrote--and what I do understand doesn't seem to contribute anything to my understanding of life and the world. I would love to hear your thoughts.
Tim, thanks for the French lesson with Foucault. You are just going to eat grad school up!! :)
David, to be completely honest, I'm a bad grad student and haven't read much of Foucault, although I probably should. Part of it could be that I'm not particularly inspired by intellectual history - I'd rather learn about the lives and stories of people. Also, most of my encounters with Michel have been when other grad students reference him in class to sound smart - which is kinda a turn off to me.
A number of historians I've enjoyed have used Foucault to make interesting arguments about the body, sexuality, and social control throughout history. So maybe someday I'll sit down and give ol' Foucault a good try...
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