Reaction Note #1 Parents Are Important
On the first day of my SFL 240 class my professor purposed the question, “Are parents important?” to the class. My professor pulled us out of our shock her seemingly ridicules question by explaining that researchers across the world purposing that parents matter very little in a child’s development, and even if parents matter at all. All I could do is sit at my desk and wonder what the parents of the researchers who stated that parents don’t matter were thinking. Do those researchers have children of their own? and if they did what kind-of parents are they? I believe that children are influenced by their parents because children watch their parents to learn how to act in public.
After the hour class I went to work. I am a secretary at Seven Peaks (a local water park) In short I sale season passes to people, and file customer complaints. At first, I was horrified by the countless stroller-pushing-mothers who screamed at me (the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk) usually cursing at me over price differences of five or six dollars. After thinking if parents matter or not for a whole class period, and then going to work with such a lovely group of dipper-bag-carrying-people I wanted to stand up on my desk and scream, “Stop yelling at me! Don’t you know your child is watching you?” It is a good think I have self control because I don’t think that my fake wooden desk would have been able to hold me up if I stood on it. The truth was though that their children were watching them, and more than that their children were mirroring them.
Children come to the water park front office to pound on the fish tank, put their buggers on the wall, and kiss the windows while their parents try to sort out purchases and rentals. To the children there the office is a torture chamber between them and a water park. To their parents the office is a torture chamber between savings and poor credit. Remember, I am just the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk. When I can not give a customer what they want they say, “I wanna speak to your manager. Who can I speak to? You go and get them,” I will translate for you, “you-powerless-little-idiot. Get me someone who can give me what I want, and I want it now,” The remarkable thing is I find parents who scream at me in this manner also scream at their children when they are not behaving how they want them to behave, “you powerless little idiot. Get me someone who can give me what I want, and I want it now,” Typically the child speaks the same way to their parent when their parent can not give them what they want. Now I know that I am acting biased. My translations are exaggerated, but are they really?
The truth of the matter is that sometime I feel like I am dealing with an overgrown child when I have to explain that prices change and the basic component of a company is that a company sales things to people who will buy them in order to make money. There can be a practical normal family purchasing a season pass in the desk next to me. All of that families children are putting on sunscreen, and tossing their towels in the air while the lady purchasing a season pass at my desk is screaming at me to get my manager and her children are screeching that they want to go inside the water park now. I would call temper tantrums like this… in Freud’s words a little to much id.
Every day I see parents come in to purchase season passes for their children. There is a theme, Parents who scream at me the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk are more likely scream at their children in the same way. It has caused me to reflect on more than one occasion about the influence parents have on their children. There have been sometimes when a costumer has screamed at me so much that I would not even be able to tell them what is up and what is down let alone what their id number is and their personal billing information. The power that such language has to diminish me to truly feel I am just a powerless-little-idiot, and the only way I could ever accomplish anything is if I got my manager is powerful. The effect of being screamed at you-powerless-little-idiot let me pick you up off the counter because the only way you will ever be able to get down is if one of your superiors helps you; you-powerless-little-idiot don’t put the sunscreen on your nose like that, let me rub it in for you because the only way you will ever be able to do anything is if one of your superiors helps you; you-powerless-little-idiot don’t roll the towel up like that, let me do it for you because you can’t figure anything out unless someone superior does it for you. If just a few minutes of me being screamed at across a counter that I am a powerless-little-idiot from a complete stranger is enough for me to check how much I am worth I can only imagine how often those children are reflect on their own self worth.
Monday, September 13, 2010
SFL 240 paper #1
Do parents have an influence?
On the first day of my SFL 240 class my professor purposed the question, “Are parents important?” to the class. My professor pulled us out of our shock her seemingly ridicules question by explaining that researchers across the world perposing that parents matter very little in a child’s development, and even if parents matter at all. All I could do is sit at my desk and wonder what the parents of the researcher who stated that parents are not important were thinking. Do those researchers have children of their own? and if they did what kind-of parents are they? I believe that children are influenced by their parents because children watch their parents to learn how to act in public.
After the hour class I went to work. I am a secretary at Seven Peaks (a local water park) In short I sale season passes to people, and file customer complaints. At first, I was horrified by the countless stroller-pushing-mothers who screamed at me (the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk) usually cursing at me over price differences of five or six dollars. After thinking if parents matter or not for a whole class period, and then going to work with such a lovely group of dipper-bag-carrying-people I wanted to stand up on my desk and scream, “Stop yelling at me! Don’t you know your child is watching you?” It is a good think I have self control because I don’t think that my fake wooden desk would have been able to hold me up if I stood on it. The truth was though that their children were watching them, and more than that their children were mirroring them.
Children come to the water park front office to pound on the fish tank, put their buggers on the wall, and kiss the windows while their parents or parent try to sort out purchases and rentals. To the children there the office is the torture chamber between them and a water park. To their parents the office is a torture chamber between savings and poor credit. Remember, I am just the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk. When I can not give a costomer what they want they say, “I wanna speak to your manager. Who can I speak to? You go and get them,” I will translate for you, “you powerless little idiot. Get me someone who can give me what I want, and I want it now,” The remarkable thing is that when a parent try to explain to their child why they can not go into the water park today the typical response is, “Why? Mom, we can jus‘ walk through the gate,” I will translate for you, “you powerless little idiot. Get me someone who can give me what I want, and I want it now,” Typically the child speaks the same way to their parent when their parent can not give them what they wanted as their parent spoke to me when I could not give them what they wanted. Now I know that I am acting biased. My translations are exaggerated, but are they really?
The truth of the matter is that sometime I feel like I am dealing with an overgrown child when I have to explain that prices change and that the bases component of a company is that they sale things to people who will buy them in order to make money. There can be a practical normal family purchasing a season pass in the desk next to me. All of that families children are putting on sunscreen, and tossing their towels in the air while the lady purchasing a season pass in at my desk is screaming at me to get my manager and her children are screeching that they want to go inside now. Every day I see parents come in to purchase season passes for their children. There is a theme, Parents who scream at me the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk are more likely to have “mis-behaved” children-even if there is a collected and calm family standing right beside them. Neither family seems to be influence by the other family, but individual families seem to be entirely enthroned in what is going on with their purchases. I think that it is just an everyday observation, but one that I believe Hart would agree points out that children learn how to act in public from their parents behavior and not from the behavior of those around them.
On the first day of my SFL 240 class my professor purposed the question, “Are parents important?” to the class. My professor pulled us out of our shock her seemingly ridicules question by explaining that researchers across the world perposing that parents matter very little in a child’s development, and even if parents matter at all. All I could do is sit at my desk and wonder what the parents of the researcher who stated that parents are not important were thinking. Do those researchers have children of their own? and if they did what kind-of parents are they? I believe that children are influenced by their parents because children watch their parents to learn how to act in public.
After the hour class I went to work. I am a secretary at Seven Peaks (a local water park) In short I sale season passes to people, and file customer complaints. At first, I was horrified by the countless stroller-pushing-mothers who screamed at me (the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk) usually cursing at me over price differences of five or six dollars. After thinking if parents matter or not for a whole class period, and then going to work with such a lovely group of dipper-bag-carrying-people I wanted to stand up on my desk and scream, “Stop yelling at me! Don’t you know your child is watching you?” It is a good think I have self control because I don’t think that my fake wooden desk would have been able to hold me up if I stood on it. The truth was though that their children were watching them, and more than that their children were mirroring them.
Children come to the water park front office to pound on the fish tank, put their buggers on the wall, and kiss the windows while their parents or parent try to sort out purchases and rentals. To the children there the office is the torture chamber between them and a water park. To their parents the office is a torture chamber between savings and poor credit. Remember, I am just the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk. When I can not give a costomer what they want they say, “I wanna speak to your manager. Who can I speak to? You go and get them,” I will translate for you, “you powerless little idiot. Get me someone who can give me what I want, and I want it now,” The remarkable thing is that when a parent try to explain to their child why they can not go into the water park today the typical response is, “Why? Mom, we can jus‘ walk through the gate,” I will translate for you, “you powerless little idiot. Get me someone who can give me what I want, and I want it now,” Typically the child speaks the same way to their parent when their parent can not give them what they wanted as their parent spoke to me when I could not give them what they wanted. Now I know that I am acting biased. My translations are exaggerated, but are they really?
The truth of the matter is that sometime I feel like I am dealing with an overgrown child when I have to explain that prices change and that the bases component of a company is that they sale things to people who will buy them in order to make money. There can be a practical normal family purchasing a season pass in the desk next to me. All of that families children are putting on sunscreen, and tossing their towels in the air while the lady purchasing a season pass in at my desk is screaming at me to get my manager and her children are screeching that they want to go inside now. Every day I see parents come in to purchase season passes for their children. There is a theme, Parents who scream at me the under-paid-powerless-person-behind-the-desk are more likely to have “mis-behaved” children-even if there is a collected and calm family standing right beside them. Neither family seems to be influence by the other family, but individual families seem to be entirely enthroned in what is going on with their purchases. I think that it is just an everyday observation, but one that I believe Hart would agree points out that children learn how to act in public from their parents behavior and not from the behavior of those around them.
science paper one
There is something frightening to me about science, and I think it comes from the misfortunate reputation science has of being too difficult to understand. I enjoyed reading this article because it helped me reconstruct my paradigm of what science is.
For starters who does not like a good story, and like the author points out what makes a better story than science. At first, I felt hesitant. Apollo the Greek God being a scientific explanation? According to the author this “story” is scientific. What? To answer this question I had to break down the definition of science the author provides and Greek mythology. If science is simply a story that explains the natural world, and the Greeks just wanted to explain why the sun rose and set. I guess the observation would be the rising and setting of the sun, and the explanation would be a God pulling it across the sky. After I read that I felt like I could be a scientist; I like to tell stories.
Simplicity, one of the seven scientific storytelling rules Bickmore and Grandy listed. This one stuck out to me the most. How could one of the RULES of science be that it is simple? As I read on I discovered that what the authors truly mean is not that science it’s self is simple, but that science is searching for a simple answer. That means that everything around me has an explanation, and not just any explanation but an explanation that I can understand and further more one that I can discover. Initially all I could think was that Bickmore and Grandy put a lot of confidence in human intelligence by stating that nature is “simple” enough for us to understand. It was a good thing that I kept on reading because I don’t think that is what the authors were trying to say at all.
Science is simple not because it is easy. Aristotle’s common sense said that when he drop a pen it fell to the earth because it wanted to go down, and fire went up because it wanted to go up. I always feel a little guilty when I bash on ancient philosophers and scientist. So, I will use an example from my own life, and we can make Aristotle look good. Up until I was twelve years old my common sense told me that there were so many rocks in the world because rocks had babies… then I took a Jr. High geology class and learned that non-living things don’t have babies. When Bickmore and Grandy say one of the rules of science is Simplicity they don’t me I am being scientific when I start a blog on the internet about all of my personal scientific explanations. Instead I believe they mean to say that science is the search for simplicity, and personally I believe that is what makes science difficult.
I think science is difficult, but that is what I think draws me to it. Please know that when I say I think science is difficult I don’t mean it in a negative way. Lots of good things are difficult. Some mornings getting out of my bed and out into the cold morning air is difficult. Science is difficult because in order for me to understand nature I have to construct and then-more importantly- reconstruct my scientific theories or stories. For example the black box experiment we did in class. After every experiment I had to draw a new picture; I had to think of a new possibility; I had to reconstruct what I believed could explain the black box. The hardest step of science might not be to construct an theory, but to demolish an old theory in order to make room for a more accurate one. This semester I think I am off to a great start at becoming a scientist. I already have one of my theories demolished; science means calculations and charts, and I have constructed a new theory; science is a story that uses calculations and charts like novels use characters and story plots.
© 2010 Microsoft Terms Privacy Advertise
For starters who does not like a good story, and like the author points out what makes a better story than science. At first, I felt hesitant. Apollo the Greek God being a scientific explanation? According to the author this “story” is scientific. What? To answer this question I had to break down the definition of science the author provides and Greek mythology. If science is simply a story that explains the natural world, and the Greeks just wanted to explain why the sun rose and set. I guess the observation would be the rising and setting of the sun, and the explanation would be a God pulling it across the sky. After I read that I felt like I could be a scientist; I like to tell stories.
Simplicity, one of the seven scientific storytelling rules Bickmore and Grandy listed. This one stuck out to me the most. How could one of the RULES of science be that it is simple? As I read on I discovered that what the authors truly mean is not that science it’s self is simple, but that science is searching for a simple answer. That means that everything around me has an explanation, and not just any explanation but an explanation that I can understand and further more one that I can discover. Initially all I could think was that Bickmore and Grandy put a lot of confidence in human intelligence by stating that nature is “simple” enough for us to understand. It was a good thing that I kept on reading because I don’t think that is what the authors were trying to say at all.
Science is simple not because it is easy. Aristotle’s common sense said that when he drop a pen it fell to the earth because it wanted to go down, and fire went up because it wanted to go up. I always feel a little guilty when I bash on ancient philosophers and scientist. So, I will use an example from my own life, and we can make Aristotle look good. Up until I was twelve years old my common sense told me that there were so many rocks in the world because rocks had babies… then I took a Jr. High geology class and learned that non-living things don’t have babies. When Bickmore and Grandy say one of the rules of science is Simplicity they don’t me I am being scientific when I start a blog on the internet about all of my personal scientific explanations. Instead I believe they mean to say that science is the search for simplicity, and personally I believe that is what makes science difficult.
I think science is difficult, but that is what I think draws me to it. Please know that when I say I think science is difficult I don’t mean it in a negative way. Lots of good things are difficult. Some mornings getting out of my bed and out into the cold morning air is difficult. Science is difficult because in order for me to understand nature I have to construct and then-more importantly- reconstruct my scientific theories or stories. For example the black box experiment we did in class. After every experiment I had to draw a new picture; I had to think of a new possibility; I had to reconstruct what I believed could explain the black box. The hardest step of science might not be to construct an theory, but to demolish an old theory in order to make room for a more accurate one. This semester I think I am off to a great start at becoming a scientist. I already have one of my theories demolished; science means calculations and charts, and I have constructed a new theory; science is a story that uses calculations and charts like novels use characters and story plots.
© 2010 Microsoft Terms Privacy Advertise
autonomy
Reaction Note #2 Parenting Principles
The principle of parenting I believe is the most important is Autonomy. One of the most desirable characteristics someone can develop is the ability, not simply the belief, but the physical ability to let other people make their own choices. I am a firm believer in life after death; a Heaven, and a Hell. I only mention my belief in Heaven and Hell because I want to emphasize that when I get to Heaven or Hell I will have chosen my eternal residency as consciously as I can chose to turn right at a stop light. Which leads me to the reason why I believe autonomy is the most important characteristic a parent helps their child to develop. For me teaching my children how to make choices is a responsibility that will change their eternity.
I grew up in a family that was very religious, and every Sunday we would march down the cracked sidewalks of Springville Utah to the brown bricked church house. I sat on the wooden chapel’s pews; I sat in sunlight peaking through the curtains in my Sunday school row; and I sat on the singing time’s carpet floor. I sat, and did a lot of thinking about right and wrong. One Sunday morning while we were learning about the difference between Heaven and Hell. My round-faced-teacher asked the simple question, “what is your favorite thing to do?” Swimming! I shot my right hand up and gripped the edge of my chair with the other hand to keep from losing my balance and falling over.
It took no time at all to fill the brown chalk board with the list of all my class’s favorite things to do: monkey bars, teeter-totter, coloring, blocks, swimming, riding my bike. My teacher turned to us and smiled, “now when you go to heaven you do that every day, forever,” Back up, this was heaven? In my mind Heaven transformed from a light filled paradise to a never ending swimming pool. All I could imagine was endless waves, and me in the middle of pumping my tiered arms, endlessly swimming; forever. The line “now when you go to heaven you do that every day, forever,” echoed in my soul as my mind replayed sunrises and sunsets and stroke after stroke and my ageing body pruning up, but never, never being able to stop swimming.
Well all of these suckers sitting in their plastic chairs can go to Heaven and do monkey bars forever, and draw in their color books forever. Not me; I’m going to Hell. I remember begging with God please, please, please, I will be good. I won’t kill anyone, or lie every again, and I will stop picking on my brother, but please, please don’t send me to heaven. After this desperate plea I remember being embraced, as if by the most joyous laughter, and something assured me that I would like Heaven. Being the person I am I followed the sudden comfortable feeling right up with I don’t have to swim everyday? Because I promise you I’m not going to Heaven if I have to.
I still hold to that statement; if I have to swim in Heaven everyday I am not going. That type of Heaven, the type were I am forced to do something (even something I love) with out having the choice is Hell and I will not go there. My idea of Heaven is an eternity of progression and dynamic choices. For my future children I don’t want to make my home a Hell on earth. I want them to feel like their home is a little piece of Heaven, a place were they can make their own choices.
To make a choice is an action and just like every action it has to be learned. Babies learn to walk, they learn to talk, they learn to eat, they learn to make choices. These are all actions, and all of them are mastered progressively. It would be improbably for me to imagine that my baby can walk the week after he or she is born. It would also be just as improbably for me to fancy that my child can make all of his or her own choices. Even if my new born baby wanted to make the choice to change their dipper they lack the physical ability to change their dipper. The ability to make a choice is learned, and I am responsible for teaching it to my children. I thought that some of the examples used to teach children how to make a choice were idyllically in their simplicity: instead of saying eat your vegetables say would you like to eat corn, peas, or carrots, but you have to eat one of those vegetables; you can take out the trash now or after school; put five toys away now, and you can keep two toys out to play with, but you chose which five. Oh! How easy it is for me to be a parent while I am not one. How easy it is for me to say what should be done, even before I know what the problem is. That a side, I do know I want my children to learn how to make their own choices, and I believe that I am responsible for teaching that to them.
The principle of parenting I believe is the most important is Autonomy. One of the most desirable characteristics someone can develop is the ability, not simply the belief, but the physical ability to let other people make their own choices. I am a firm believer in life after death; a Heaven, and a Hell. I only mention my belief in Heaven and Hell because I want to emphasize that when I get to Heaven or Hell I will have chosen my eternal residency as consciously as I can chose to turn right at a stop light. Which leads me to the reason why I believe autonomy is the most important characteristic a parent helps their child to develop. For me teaching my children how to make choices is a responsibility that will change their eternity.
I grew up in a family that was very religious, and every Sunday we would march down the cracked sidewalks of Springville Utah to the brown bricked church house. I sat on the wooden chapel’s pews; I sat in sunlight peaking through the curtains in my Sunday school row; and I sat on the singing time’s carpet floor. I sat, and did a lot of thinking about right and wrong. One Sunday morning while we were learning about the difference between Heaven and Hell. My round-faced-teacher asked the simple question, “what is your favorite thing to do?” Swimming! I shot my right hand up and gripped the edge of my chair with the other hand to keep from losing my balance and falling over.
It took no time at all to fill the brown chalk board with the list of all my class’s favorite things to do: monkey bars, teeter-totter, coloring, blocks, swimming, riding my bike. My teacher turned to us and smiled, “now when you go to heaven you do that every day, forever,” Back up, this was heaven? In my mind Heaven transformed from a light filled paradise to a never ending swimming pool. All I could imagine was endless waves, and me in the middle of pumping my tiered arms, endlessly swimming; forever. The line “now when you go to heaven you do that every day, forever,” echoed in my soul as my mind replayed sunrises and sunsets and stroke after stroke and my ageing body pruning up, but never, never being able to stop swimming.
Well all of these suckers sitting in their plastic chairs can go to Heaven and do monkey bars forever, and draw in their color books forever. Not me; I’m going to Hell. I remember begging with God please, please, please, I will be good. I won’t kill anyone, or lie every again, and I will stop picking on my brother, but please, please don’t send me to heaven. After this desperate plea I remember being embraced, as if by the most joyous laughter, and something assured me that I would like Heaven. Being the person I am I followed the sudden comfortable feeling right up with I don’t have to swim everyday? Because I promise you I’m not going to Heaven if I have to.
I still hold to that statement; if I have to swim in Heaven everyday I am not going. That type of Heaven, the type were I am forced to do something (even something I love) with out having the choice is Hell and I will not go there. My idea of Heaven is an eternity of progression and dynamic choices. For my future children I don’t want to make my home a Hell on earth. I want them to feel like their home is a little piece of Heaven, a place were they can make their own choices.
To make a choice is an action and just like every action it has to be learned. Babies learn to walk, they learn to talk, they learn to eat, they learn to make choices. These are all actions, and all of them are mastered progressively. It would be improbably for me to imagine that my baby can walk the week after he or she is born. It would also be just as improbably for me to fancy that my child can make all of his or her own choices. Even if my new born baby wanted to make the choice to change their dipper they lack the physical ability to change their dipper. The ability to make a choice is learned, and I am responsible for teaching it to my children. I thought that some of the examples used to teach children how to make a choice were idyllically in their simplicity: instead of saying eat your vegetables say would you like to eat corn, peas, or carrots, but you have to eat one of those vegetables; you can take out the trash now or after school; put five toys away now, and you can keep two toys out to play with, but you chose which five. Oh! How easy it is for me to be a parent while I am not one. How easy it is for me to say what should be done, even before I know what the problem is. That a side, I do know I want my children to learn how to make their own choices, and I believe that I am responsible for teaching that to them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)