Stupid and Other Bad Words
"He said, 'stupid', and I told him that was a bad word, and he laughed at me." Gabriel shared this story as he got ready to brush his teeth tonight. Janette reaffirmed Gabriel had done the right thing. "It may not make you popular, but you did the right thing."
Gabriel learned that "stupid" is a bad word at his preschool and that name calling, in general, was unacceptable. If he learned nothing else there, this lesson was worth the price of admission. What better way to teach Gabriel that words mean something and mean words demean people than banning the word "stupid."
In our house, we work hard to respect each other (even when teasing). It's a lot of work: we don't always succeed, but we correct each other as needed. We also employ People First Language.
I learned about People First Language while attending Partners In Policymaking - a nine-month, life-changing experience in making a difference in our community. There, sitting beside parents and self-advocates, I heard most speakers clearly distinguish the person from the adjective. "Disabled people" became people with disabilities. Families, like mine, with "special needs kids" became families that experienced disabilities and our kids became, well, kids: unattached to their diagnosis, except when absolutely necessary (e.g. for those lovely IFSP and IEP forms), and reconnected to their childhood.
Why is this important? Is this just another politically-correct-movement-of-the-month, forcing us to recraft our language for the benefit of the few easily-offended?
To me, no. To me, this subject comes up almost daily. I was at a cafe a few months ago with my family. Janette and the kids had strolled off to find a table, and I was finishing up our order.
"What's wrong with her?" I turned to face a woman in her early thirties. She had held the door open for us when we entered.
"Nothing," I replied.
"Well, when I saw her get out of your van, I thought, 'Oh, poor thing, she can't even walk.' But then I saw her wiggle her little feet, and I thought, 'Thank G-d! She can walk!"
"Yes, she can." I tried hard not to laugh, wondering if Ricky Gervais was going to pop out of the woodwork. "We're all working on that. Right now, she's using the wheelchair for support."
"Well, I was so happy to see that she wasn't paralyzed."
Detaching politely from the conversation, I walked to our table. Retorts and new dialogue, Better Things I Could Have Said To Defend Hannah's Honor!, poured through me. On reaching our table, though, most of that faded away. Janette and I had work to do. Hannah, unhappy with the lack of movement and singing, was crying. Gabriel was oblivious to the world behind his Nintendo DS, even abstaining from the dessert in front of him. We ate. We talked. We sang to Hannah. We directed Gabriel to set aside his Nintendo DS and participate in family time.
I relayed the encounter to Janette later, outside of the kids' earshot. It was amazing to us both how other people viewed Hannah, and our family, and how willing this woman was to share it. I was glad to have challenged her idea that something was wrong with Hannah herself, but I wished I had pushed the conversation further, taught her something, proven something....
But Gabriel's story today reminded me that some people don't get it, unfortunately. I was happy, though, that Gabriel gets it. That he will stand on principle, even if people laugh or don't get it. That he'll stick up for what he believes in. That he won't use the word "stupid."
-- Dad
