KIDS today… they have it so good. Name a few things you weren’t allowed in your youth and voila, nowadays the only thing lacking is to serve it to them on a silver platter. Once, a father was confiding to me about a difficulty with relating to his son. Aside from the boy always arguing with them, he has likewise grown up to become overly-sensitive or easily hurt whenever reprimanded.
Not so long ago, the issue of talking back to a parent was a strict no-no. It didn’t really matter who was in the right; one had to tread lightly when doing so lest one crosses the line between the need to be heard and without one knowing it, ventures into disrespect. In the culture today, because of many outside influences brought about by the channels of media, education and technology (which in part have become part of the realities affecting both parents and child), arguing your case, however strongly or gently, has become almost synonymous with empowerment, and often losing sight of respect in the process. Subjective as this may sound, sociologists have long pointed out that the feel of empowerment can be both boost and bane, especially for a young mind. While on one hand, the parent only wants his child to be articulate at speaking his mind, the child on the other might misconstrue this as his right to be heard no matter what.
Our own father long ago has even insisted that all he’ll ever demand of us is we should respect him. Now, I believe that unless elders do not mind their children answering back, it might just be left to continue as normal, nesting a feeling of entitlement. I recall a song the title of which I’ve forgotten. The lyrics however says in part, “Freedom isn’t free, freedom isn’t free, you’ve got to pay a price, you’ve got to sacrifice because freedom isn’t free.”
On the lighter side, I say again, Kids today…
Once, at the local min-grocery in our subdivision one late afternoon, a group of school kids were busy at it, oblivious of other customers, noisily crowding the ice cream icebox. The vendor attending to them could only smile as each of these survivors of the afternoon sun pleaded with her to be served first…in broken English. Amid the din, a child on the plump side was for a while teased by his mates of his choice of two popsicles while the rest wanted 20-peso drumsticks. Not being served yet, he sulkingly moved away from the group and proclaimed, “I’ve lost my gun” (nawala na akoang gana) or I’ve lost my appetite, to be exact. Some of the boys chanted “lost my gun, lost my gun” and threatened him to be reported to sir, whoever that was. I clearly remember in grade two, my classmates and I were talking about a war movie and I thought that the English word for tank was tangke. At the time, there was a monetary fine of one peso for speaking the dialect and they too threatened to report me to Mr. Isonza. Kids today, kids yesterday. Full circle.
