Re: Stockholm syndrome was Re: [AlwaysLearning] Dress for Success or PUBLIC H...
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In a message dated 9/1/02 4:13:38 PM Central Daylight Time,
ikonstitcher@... writes:
My dad taught me to always be a leader and never a follower. And although I
never considered myself a leader, (I was somewhat of a geek in school. Wait!
I WAS a geek in school. <g>) I never was a follower. My folks are very
conservative, upper, upper, middle class, white... My dad made tons of money
in 70's through oil. But, he was a naturalist at heart. For as long as I can
remember, we hunted and fished, and had gardens on the scale of small farms.
We planted trees all over the land we had when I was a teenager, but cut down
trees to heat our home too. He taught me to take what I needed, nothing more,
and put back twice that.
My point? Well, even though I went to public school I always *knew* I had
options. Not to say I could have come home and said *I'm never going back,
hows about you learn me at home?* But I knew that if there was a problem at
school, I could count on my dad to stick up for me, absolutely, positively,
no matter what. I hated school, I was a loner, had few friends... but it was
the one area I never felt my dad just abandoned me in. My dad sticking up for
me and my shirt wasn't the only time. My dad hated that shirt, it stood for
just about everything he was against. He also hated my purple hair, my shaved
head, my earrings, my trench coat, my steel toed combat boots, most of my
friends, my music, my taste in literature... But he stood up for my rights to
be the person I was. And that included my right to not be a captive, a
follower, a public school drone.
Once, in third grade, the teacher tried to use this *positive reenforcement*
thing with us. We got these big yellow cards and if she caught us being bad,
she wouldn't say anything, she would just walk over and punch a hole in it.
If there were so many punches, we had to sit at our desk with a three sided
cardboard *cubicle* around us. No one was to talk to us while we had this
around our desk. We couldn't see out, unless we looked behind us. Well, I had
one of these around my desk for almost a week. (I was really bad! <g>) and I
was bored. I couldn't participate in the class, I couldn't see the teacher or
the board, it was a mess. I was upset, and wrote all over the inside of the
box. I got caught and was made to stay inside for recess to write sentences
about not defacing school property. I had to go pee, and the teacher wouldn't
let me talk. I kept raising my hand, she ignored me, I stood up and spoke,
she yelled at me... finally I wet my pants. I was a mess, I was crying and
very embarrassed. The teacher was yelling about how come I didn't tell her I
had to use the bathroom. (HUH??) The kids all came back from recess, everyone
saw, everyone made fun. So my teacher took me to the office and called my
house. My dad was home for lunch so he came to the school. He and that
teacher were in the principals office for a long time. When they came out she
was in tears, and my dad took me home for the rest of the day. My dad didn't
make me ride the bus the next morning, he took me. On the ride to school he
said two things to me, Never write or draw on something that isn't yours and
never ever raise your hand to go to the bathroom, if you have to go, you go.
When I got to class, my teacher said I was excused from the work I had missed
while the cubicle was around me. There were no more punch cards and I never
saw another cubicle around me or any other kid ever again. And I never raised
my hand to go to the bathroom ever again.
So why do some kids get "caught" in school and never seem to get out and
others are able to reject it all and come out strong? Somewhere, sometime
there was someone in their life who had an impact on them, who stood up for
them, did something to let them know that school wasn't all there was. Even
if there wasn't someone like my dad in the equation, if it was just one
person who did one small thing way back in third grade... it can and does
make a difference.
~Nancy~ who hopes she somehow answered Nancy's question? (Did I get it
right?)
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
ikonstitcher@... writes:
> My Dad askedI don't quite know how to answer this. I hope I know what you are asking.
> > him if he knew what the shirt meant, and the principal told him he didn't
> > have to know what a shirt meant, to know it was wrong! <g> My Dad told me
> to
> > wear it every day for a week (he washed it for me every night.) and that's
> > how I got suspended.
> > ~Nancy
>
> I wrote a post on another list last week which got no response at all, but
> I'd love to discuss with *someone*! Your dad may be the answer to the
> question I pose at the very end, although I'm sure there are other answers.
> A hit-and-run poster with an addy which included "charter.net" posted,
> causing quite a stir; my reply follows:
> <snip>
> It takes only 3-4 days for the characteristic bond of the Stockholm syndrome
> to emerge when captor and captive are strangers. After that, research shows,
> the duration of captivity is no longer relevant.
> ***
>
> I realize children are not actually threatened with *death* in kindergarten,
> but consider the trauma of separation from the parent; those photos of
> children clinging to mommy as they are taken, crying, aboard a bus that
> first day of school are a regular feature of September newspapers, and
> something our society takes for granted as *normal,* a part of growing up.
> Kids get used to it, right? (They can't escape.) After a month or two,
> (with compliance from their parents, who continue the school's program by
> enforcing homework and sending them back every day) they love school, don't
> they?
> <snip>
> The duration of captivity seems to continue into adulthood for some people.
> I wonder what makes the difference in those of us who reject school?
>
> Nancy
>
My dad taught me to always be a leader and never a follower. And although I
never considered myself a leader, (I was somewhat of a geek in school. Wait!
I WAS a geek in school. <g>) I never was a follower. My folks are very
conservative, upper, upper, middle class, white... My dad made tons of money
in 70's through oil. But, he was a naturalist at heart. For as long as I can
remember, we hunted and fished, and had gardens on the scale of small farms.
We planted trees all over the land we had when I was a teenager, but cut down
trees to heat our home too. He taught me to take what I needed, nothing more,
and put back twice that.
My point? Well, even though I went to public school I always *knew* I had
options. Not to say I could have come home and said *I'm never going back,
hows about you learn me at home?* But I knew that if there was a problem at
school, I could count on my dad to stick up for me, absolutely, positively,
no matter what. I hated school, I was a loner, had few friends... but it was
the one area I never felt my dad just abandoned me in. My dad sticking up for
me and my shirt wasn't the only time. My dad hated that shirt, it stood for
just about everything he was against. He also hated my purple hair, my shaved
head, my earrings, my trench coat, my steel toed combat boots, most of my
friends, my music, my taste in literature... But he stood up for my rights to
be the person I was. And that included my right to not be a captive, a
follower, a public school drone.
Once, in third grade, the teacher tried to use this *positive reenforcement*
thing with us. We got these big yellow cards and if she caught us being bad,
she wouldn't say anything, she would just walk over and punch a hole in it.
If there were so many punches, we had to sit at our desk with a three sided
cardboard *cubicle* around us. No one was to talk to us while we had this
around our desk. We couldn't see out, unless we looked behind us. Well, I had
one of these around my desk for almost a week. (I was really bad! <g>) and I
was bored. I couldn't participate in the class, I couldn't see the teacher or
the board, it was a mess. I was upset, and wrote all over the inside of the
box. I got caught and was made to stay inside for recess to write sentences
about not defacing school property. I had to go pee, and the teacher wouldn't
let me talk. I kept raising my hand, she ignored me, I stood up and spoke,
she yelled at me... finally I wet my pants. I was a mess, I was crying and
very embarrassed. The teacher was yelling about how come I didn't tell her I
had to use the bathroom. (HUH??) The kids all came back from recess, everyone
saw, everyone made fun. So my teacher took me to the office and called my
house. My dad was home for lunch so he came to the school. He and that
teacher were in the principals office for a long time. When they came out she
was in tears, and my dad took me home for the rest of the day. My dad didn't
make me ride the bus the next morning, he took me. On the ride to school he
said two things to me, Never write or draw on something that isn't yours and
never ever raise your hand to go to the bathroom, if you have to go, you go.
When I got to class, my teacher said I was excused from the work I had missed
while the cubicle was around me. There were no more punch cards and I never
saw another cubicle around me or any other kid ever again. And I never raised
my hand to go to the bathroom ever again.
So why do some kids get "caught" in school and never seem to get out and
others are able to reject it all and come out strong? Somewhere, sometime
there was someone in their life who had an impact on them, who stood up for
them, did something to let them know that school wasn't all there was. Even
if there wasn't someone like my dad in the equation, if it was just one
person who did one small thing way back in third grade... it can and does
make a difference.
~Nancy~ who hopes she somehow answered Nancy's question? (Did I get it
right?)
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
Nancy Wooton
on 9/1/02 7:45 PM, Dnowens@... at Dnowens@... wrote:
case <g>)
In my case, third grade was also my downfall. What is it about third grade
teachers??? At that time, my parents tried very hard to make me go along
with the system; I'm not sure they ever knew the teacher had pulled my desk
up against hers, so she could hit my hand with her ruler if I looked out the
window. Anyone want to guess why I suck at math?
It wasn't until many years later my mom started to let her guard down, and
reveal what she really felt about school. She'd flunked second grade, and,
since it was virtually a one-room schoolhouse, had to repeat with the same
teacher who dug her long fingernails into children's flesh. My mom couldn't
read, but memorized the passage she'd have to read aloud to escape this
woman and move up to third grade. (My mom's grandparents and extended
family spoke Norweigen, and the workers in the orange groves surrounding her
home spoke Spanish; she didn't have a good grasp of English in second
grade.)
Mom eventually got to the point where she'd snipe openly about
"schoolteachers!" but until then she was a good enforcer of the school's
status quo. Once I got to high school and had a couple of liberal teachers
(ones who insisted on being called by first names and furnished their
classrooms with couches, not desks <horrors!> and one who'd even been to the
Soviet Union!!!!) she changed her tune and harrangued all the time about the
horrible school.
I guess her hatred of school did me some good in the long run, though it
made me pretty unbearable to that teacher with the couches (I think he might
have been amused by me, come to think of it). Mom has always been
supportive of homeschooling, anyway :-)
Nancy
> So why do some kids get "caught" in school and never seem to get out andYou understood the question, and I appreciate your answer ("right" in your
> others are able to reject it all and come out strong? Somewhere, sometime
> there was someone in their life who had an impact on them, who stood up for
> them, did something to let them know that school wasn't all there was. Even
> if there wasn't someone like my dad in the equation, if it was just one
> person who did one small thing way back in third grade... it can and does
> make a difference.
> ~Nancy~ who hopes she somehow answered Nancy's question? (Did I get it
> right?)
>
case <g>)
In my case, third grade was also my downfall. What is it about third grade
teachers??? At that time, my parents tried very hard to make me go along
with the system; I'm not sure they ever knew the teacher had pulled my desk
up against hers, so she could hit my hand with her ruler if I looked out the
window. Anyone want to guess why I suck at math?
It wasn't until many years later my mom started to let her guard down, and
reveal what she really felt about school. She'd flunked second grade, and,
since it was virtually a one-room schoolhouse, had to repeat with the same
teacher who dug her long fingernails into children's flesh. My mom couldn't
read, but memorized the passage she'd have to read aloud to escape this
woman and move up to third grade. (My mom's grandparents and extended
family spoke Norweigen, and the workers in the orange groves surrounding her
home spoke Spanish; she didn't have a good grasp of English in second
grade.)
Mom eventually got to the point where she'd snipe openly about
"schoolteachers!" but until then she was a good enforcer of the school's
status quo. Once I got to high school and had a couple of liberal teachers
(ones who insisted on being called by first names and furnished their
classrooms with couches, not desks <horrors!> and one who'd even been to the
Soviet Union!!!!) she changed her tune and harrangued all the time about the
horrible school.
I guess her hatred of school did me some good in the long run, though it
made me pretty unbearable to that teacher with the couches (I think he might
have been amused by me, come to think of it). Mom has always been
supportive of homeschooling, anyway :-)
Nancy