Alice, this post reminded me of elementary school. Nearly all of my old report cards (my mom still has them) say things like what a bright student Kristi is but she has a hard time keeping quiet, containing her outbursts, etc lol. I don't recall ever being told to be quiet but clearly it was a "thing"
I like that the reports said: hard time keeping quiet. I think if I'd heard that language, I might have a different story. It is 'hard' for me, but it wasn't framed that way.
Thank you, Kristi, as always, for taking time to comment.
There are those among us who think we talk too much. My daughter, around age 16, said to me, "Dad do you know you talk to everybody?" "Yes," I said. "Is that OK?" She said, "Maybe everybody doesn't want to talk to you." Touché! I probably embarrassed my kids more than a few times because, "I'm a people person." Daughter is more mature now, at almost 62, learned over the years to celebrate me as I am. And yes, I talked in school when I was supposed to be quiet. At this late stage, I was honored with the title "Resident Rebel" by my former colleagues at leadershipanddesign.org
Resident Rebel indeed! I do talk to everyone! And my kids curl up and die a little as I do, jabbing me in the elbows, dropping their gaze, hoping I'll STOP! But I find other people so fascinating and I love hearing their stories, so while I'm talking, I'm listening, too. Thanks, Gray, good to hear from you. I hope all is well!
There's always hope. My daughter, now almost 62, may not have "changed" in that department until around that age , 35, and I think having her own kids helped her evolve and change
Oh, goodness, Alice--not only am I humbled to be mentioned alongside so many other incredible writers, I too have the story of 'talks too much' written on many report cards. The worst offense was in fifth grade during show and tell time. As I told a story about falling in the ditch along the highway on the way to school, my fifth grade teacher exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and asked when the story was going to end, because, and I quote after almost 40 years, "Do you have to tell stories about *everything?*
I was so ashamed that I quit sharing stories and only wrote them in my diaries and in letters to my girlfriends for years after that. Despite the passage of time, that moment sticks in my memory and fills me with sadness for 11 year old Beth who just wanted to share her experiences. For her, I'll keep at it!
That's the word! Shame. It's strange how you writing it now helps me articulate it--and I'm interested I couldn't name it. I can feel through the years exactly how that must have made you feel almost 40 years ago. I'm glad you're writing and sharing stories now. Thank you xoxox
I don't have to imagine it when I was little, it's written in black and white in my old report cards (which have now been tossed in my newly downsized life.) That little chatterbox girl is still in there, but I hadn't connected the grown-ass woman today who thinks no one would be interested in what she has to say with my excited and exuberant little school girl self always raising her hand barely able to contain her words, but told to be quiet, until reading this! Definitely pondering over this little nugget.
I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm not sure I've quite articulated it in the piece, although your comment makes me think maybe I did. It's the same unsettling feeling when I get to the page that I had as a chatty child, realising I was talking too much: I start writing and there's a rumble of worry that I have nothing to say. Thanks, Kim. xoxo
My mother kept my old report cards from nursery school. I found them one day in her closet when she was away. "David [sometimes] puts his hands around other children's necks and [sometimes] laughs at other children when they have trouble doing a puzzle."
My memory is of reading the report cards when I was in elementary school. Did my mother think she was raising a monster?
Reading that must have had an effect on me, or else I wouldn't have remembered the words, but I can't figure out what the effect was.
Thanks Alice for a great piece on childhood reflection leading to self-awareness.
Thanks, David. That's an interesting line in a report card and more interesting to think about the effect of words given when you were so little, what story that tells (and doesn't tell) and how words echo. Thank you for sharing and taking time to comment.
“Little boys are to be seen and not heard” was repeated to me in the early years and was the first of many phrases or statements used by my mother that shaped how I see myself. “Men are all pigs” was another popular phrase she spoke not even taking in to consideration that her divorce from my father left me in a home surrounded by three sisters and a mother and a violent alcoholic stepfather. Not a fertile ground to nurture self esteem, confidence or self worth. So as I unfold the past and understand the narrative frame that shaped my development I am able to better understand my choices, actions and feelings. It is a deep and often painful process that leaves me feeling vulnerable and sad. But through my exploration of the past I am now aware of many of my own frames of thinking and acting so I can now choose to do things differently. It is what I believe the meaning of the word “enlightenment”.
Thank you for sharing this. I've read it over a couple of times from the moment you posted and it really draws me in--this idea of who we are from what we overhear, too, is so interesting. My mum has a completely different version of my post from yesterday: she remembers enjoying me talking but she's never said that before, and has told me many many times that I talk too much and to stop talking. I wonder if your mom would have realised she was even doing that--same as my mum hasn't registered the things she said.
Which then gets me thinking as a mum myself--what am I saying and embedding without realising? And how can I learn from my children better than my mum (who is wonderful person, but easy to upset).
Also! Seen and not heard was OFT repeated in my household and with my grandparents, too! It's funny how reading it immediately echoes through the years. I can hear my grandfather saying it to me. In our case it was: Children should be seen and not heard, finger held to his lips.
Thank you for sharing and opening up this thinking for me.
Thank you for your warm comments. My mom was unfiltered and often said things that on reflection she probably would have thought twice before say. Especially if she knew the impact on me. She struggled raising a boy and had no friends or family to help. Those who tried hit a wall. She wasn’t one for introspection or self reflection. As an adult I tried on several occasions to gently try and share with her my experience but I was quickly rebuffed. Looking at the impact of her actions was not something my mother indulged in. Rather, her focus stayed on the countless resentments that she believed justified her actions. It is a reminder to me each day of living my life without resentments and when I act in a way that isn’t my best, move quickly to make amends. It is a way of living that allows me to love myself and experience the many joys of living a spiritual life. So thank you again for your kindness.
I’ve been working hard when resentment arises to ask myself why: what would I change? What can I change? It’s uncomfortable work, but I’m finding it very profound. Thank you again for sharing all this. It’s really helping me reflect.
I love reading your words Alice, so please don’t stay silent! Always valuable insights. Etgar Keret was the first writer I discovered on this platform, and always enjoy reading him. Preferably in Hebrew… If you love Jeannine Ouellette’s prompts, and her beautiful writing community, you can check out Mary G’s What Now. Fantastic prompts and great writers there too. Mary is amazing!!!
Thanks so much, Imola. I always appreciate your warmth and generosity. I'll take a look at Mary G, thanks, although sadly I'll have to stick with the English for Etgar Keret!
DONE! Finally. You know the difference? I WROTE IT ON MY PAPER TO-DO LIST! I have your mid-year goal check in lined up for this week. Thank you for your patience and care!
Just last evening I apologized to a friend while we were chatting over dinner. He asked questions about my visit back to Canada and I answered, my words full of enthusiasm about my trip home, and love because he was the first person (other than my husband) who actually asked about what I did there. But then then those voices crept in (my mother, father, ex, teachers, etc.) "Do you really think he cares how much you loved working in your daughters garden, collecting eggs every day, and watching the trees bud, then blossom...?" With my eyes full of tears, I stopped in mid sentence and apologized. Damn, I'm 58 years old and still apologizing. He assured me he was very interested - that was why he asked questions. Thank you for this reminder that what I have to say (and write) are worth saying (and writing).
Thank you for sharing that I'm not alone on this journey. That happens to me so often--someone asks me a question and quickly I begin to worry I'm taking up too much air, that I've talked too much, that I should stop. What a beautiful note, Jacquie. xoxo
This was such a relational post for me thank you Alice. Iy has given me pausr to think of my own story in this regard. From gr 1 i was a talker. I could write, maths and most other gr1 work but everytime we had to read i would start telling stories. The teachet either cellotaped my mouth shut (i kid you not, no rights in those days 50+ years ago) or put me to stand outside in the sun until readibg class was over. Dare i say i passed gr 1 without bribg able to read much? I can't remember the teacher's name thank goodness. My gr 2 teacher took pity on me and took me back to read gr 1 books from the start and by gr 3 i was the best reader of the grade. And i was hooked ever since. My other teachers though up till gr 7 also timeously and untimeously sat me outside the classes on many a day. I must have been an awful talker for them to behave like that !! How i ever passed any grade up to gr 7 is actually beyond me since i recall many days outside the classrooms. And now i value quiet, but few know this as i too am a 'people' person. But i get my own quiet time daily. But having said all the above_ i describe myself ' as a reader not yet a writer' because i can't seem to find my writer's voice. 😪 And i wonder if i choke it down too much so that i don't hear people say 'you talk too much'....
Taped your mouth! As you write that, and share it, I remember that being threatened over and over, but it never actually happened. Oh, I'm so sorry it happened to you. I hope you write lots and share more stories and never choke the words down. Thank you for sharing--you brought visceral memories back--gold coins I want to look at to see which I want to keep. xoxoxox
Wow these words punch deep inside the mind and scatter thoughts like rain drops. They hit the highs and the lows of being a small child and a teenager in a house that had a lot of angst and anger.
Alice, this post reminded me of elementary school. Nearly all of my old report cards (my mom still has them) say things like what a bright student Kristi is but she has a hard time keeping quiet, containing her outbursts, etc lol. I don't recall ever being told to be quiet but clearly it was a "thing"
I like that the reports said: hard time keeping quiet. I think if I'd heard that language, I might have a different story. It is 'hard' for me, but it wasn't framed that way.
Thank you, Kristi, as always, for taking time to comment.
xoxxox
There are those among us who think we talk too much. My daughter, around age 16, said to me, "Dad do you know you talk to everybody?" "Yes," I said. "Is that OK?" She said, "Maybe everybody doesn't want to talk to you." Touché! I probably embarrassed my kids more than a few times because, "I'm a people person." Daughter is more mature now, at almost 62, learned over the years to celebrate me as I am. And yes, I talked in school when I was supposed to be quiet. At this late stage, I was honored with the title "Resident Rebel" by my former colleagues at leadershipanddesign.org
Resident Rebel indeed! I do talk to everyone! And my kids curl up and die a little as I do, jabbing me in the elbows, dropping their gaze, hoping I'll STOP! But I find other people so fascinating and I love hearing their stories, so while I'm talking, I'm listening, too. Thanks, Gray, good to hear from you. I hope all is well!
As long as we're talking and writing, reading and walking, eating and sleeping, all is well.
Sometimes I say, "If it was any better, I couldn't stand it." Celebrate every day!
Great saying. Made me smile.
My introverted daughter absolutely can't stand that I can talk to anyone anywhere about anything.
Maybe she’ll grow older and wiser. Mine did.
she's 35~~~ so unlikely to change that much.
There's always hope. My daughter, now almost 62, may not have "changed" in that department until around that age , 35, and I think having her own kids helped her evolve and change
Oh, goodness, Alice--not only am I humbled to be mentioned alongside so many other incredible writers, I too have the story of 'talks too much' written on many report cards. The worst offense was in fifth grade during show and tell time. As I told a story about falling in the ditch along the highway on the way to school, my fifth grade teacher exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and asked when the story was going to end, because, and I quote after almost 40 years, "Do you have to tell stories about *everything?*
I was so ashamed that I quit sharing stories and only wrote them in my diaries and in letters to my girlfriends for years after that. Despite the passage of time, that moment sticks in my memory and fills me with sadness for 11 year old Beth who just wanted to share her experiences. For her, I'll keep at it!
That's the word! Shame. It's strange how you writing it now helps me articulate it--and I'm interested I couldn't name it. I can feel through the years exactly how that must have made you feel almost 40 years ago. I'm glad you're writing and sharing stories now. Thank you xoxox
I don't have to imagine it when I was little, it's written in black and white in my old report cards (which have now been tossed in my newly downsized life.) That little chatterbox girl is still in there, but I hadn't connected the grown-ass woman today who thinks no one would be interested in what she has to say with my excited and exuberant little school girl self always raising her hand barely able to contain her words, but told to be quiet, until reading this! Definitely pondering over this little nugget.
I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm not sure I've quite articulated it in the piece, although your comment makes me think maybe I did. It's the same unsettling feeling when I get to the page that I had as a chatty child, realising I was talking too much: I start writing and there's a rumble of worry that I have nothing to say. Thanks, Kim. xoxo
My mother kept my old report cards from nursery school. I found them one day in her closet when she was away. "David [sometimes] puts his hands around other children's necks and [sometimes] laughs at other children when they have trouble doing a puzzle."
My memory is of reading the report cards when I was in elementary school. Did my mother think she was raising a monster?
Reading that must have had an effect on me, or else I wouldn't have remembered the words, but I can't figure out what the effect was.
Thanks Alice for a great piece on childhood reflection leading to self-awareness.
Thanks, David. That's an interesting line in a report card and more interesting to think about the effect of words given when you were so little, what story that tells (and doesn't tell) and how words echo. Thank you for sharing and taking time to comment.
“Little boys are to be seen and not heard” was repeated to me in the early years and was the first of many phrases or statements used by my mother that shaped how I see myself. “Men are all pigs” was another popular phrase she spoke not even taking in to consideration that her divorce from my father left me in a home surrounded by three sisters and a mother and a violent alcoholic stepfather. Not a fertile ground to nurture self esteem, confidence or self worth. So as I unfold the past and understand the narrative frame that shaped my development I am able to better understand my choices, actions and feelings. It is a deep and often painful process that leaves me feeling vulnerable and sad. But through my exploration of the past I am now aware of many of my own frames of thinking and acting so I can now choose to do things differently. It is what I believe the meaning of the word “enlightenment”.
Thank you for sharing this. I've read it over a couple of times from the moment you posted and it really draws me in--this idea of who we are from what we overhear, too, is so interesting. My mum has a completely different version of my post from yesterday: she remembers enjoying me talking but she's never said that before, and has told me many many times that I talk too much and to stop talking. I wonder if your mom would have realised she was even doing that--same as my mum hasn't registered the things she said.
Which then gets me thinking as a mum myself--what am I saying and embedding without realising? And how can I learn from my children better than my mum (who is wonderful person, but easy to upset).
Also! Seen and not heard was OFT repeated in my household and with my grandparents, too! It's funny how reading it immediately echoes through the years. I can hear my grandfather saying it to me. In our case it was: Children should be seen and not heard, finger held to his lips.
Thank you for sharing and opening up this thinking for me.
Thank you for your warm comments. My mom was unfiltered and often said things that on reflection she probably would have thought twice before say. Especially if she knew the impact on me. She struggled raising a boy and had no friends or family to help. Those who tried hit a wall. She wasn’t one for introspection or self reflection. As an adult I tried on several occasions to gently try and share with her my experience but I was quickly rebuffed. Looking at the impact of her actions was not something my mother indulged in. Rather, her focus stayed on the countless resentments that she believed justified her actions. It is a reminder to me each day of living my life without resentments and when I act in a way that isn’t my best, move quickly to make amends. It is a way of living that allows me to love myself and experience the many joys of living a spiritual life. So thank you again for your kindness.
I’ve been working hard when resentment arises to ask myself why: what would I change? What can I change? It’s uncomfortable work, but I’m finding it very profound. Thank you again for sharing all this. It’s really helping me reflect.
I love reading your words Alice, so please don’t stay silent! Always valuable insights. Etgar Keret was the first writer I discovered on this platform, and always enjoy reading him. Preferably in Hebrew… If you love Jeannine Ouellette’s prompts, and her beautiful writing community, you can check out Mary G’s What Now. Fantastic prompts and great writers there too. Mary is amazing!!!
Thanks so much, Imola. I always appreciate your warmth and generosity. I'll take a look at Mary G, thanks, although sadly I'll have to stick with the English for Etgar Keret!
Haha. The English is not bad!!! But if you happen to speak the original language it was written in, why not?
Here when you’re ready Alice! ✨💫
DONE! Finally. You know the difference? I WROTE IT ON MY PAPER TO-DO LIST! I have your mid-year goal check in lined up for this week. Thank you for your patience and care!
I know. I keep making this promise to myself--and to you--so the next step is putting it into my calendar. I appreciate your patience!
Just last evening I apologized to a friend while we were chatting over dinner. He asked questions about my visit back to Canada and I answered, my words full of enthusiasm about my trip home, and love because he was the first person (other than my husband) who actually asked about what I did there. But then then those voices crept in (my mother, father, ex, teachers, etc.) "Do you really think he cares how much you loved working in your daughters garden, collecting eggs every day, and watching the trees bud, then blossom...?" With my eyes full of tears, I stopped in mid sentence and apologized. Damn, I'm 58 years old and still apologizing. He assured me he was very interested - that was why he asked questions. Thank you for this reminder that what I have to say (and write) are worth saying (and writing).
Thank you for sharing that I'm not alone on this journey. That happens to me so often--someone asks me a question and quickly I begin to worry I'm taking up too much air, that I've talked too much, that I should stop. What a beautiful note, Jacquie. xoxo
This was such a relational post for me thank you Alice. Iy has given me pausr to think of my own story in this regard. From gr 1 i was a talker. I could write, maths and most other gr1 work but everytime we had to read i would start telling stories. The teachet either cellotaped my mouth shut (i kid you not, no rights in those days 50+ years ago) or put me to stand outside in the sun until readibg class was over. Dare i say i passed gr 1 without bribg able to read much? I can't remember the teacher's name thank goodness. My gr 2 teacher took pity on me and took me back to read gr 1 books from the start and by gr 3 i was the best reader of the grade. And i was hooked ever since. My other teachers though up till gr 7 also timeously and untimeously sat me outside the classes on many a day. I must have been an awful talker for them to behave like that !! How i ever passed any grade up to gr 7 is actually beyond me since i recall many days outside the classrooms. And now i value quiet, but few know this as i too am a 'people' person. But i get my own quiet time daily. But having said all the above_ i describe myself ' as a reader not yet a writer' because i can't seem to find my writer's voice. 😪 And i wonder if i choke it down too much so that i don't hear people say 'you talk too much'....
Taped your mouth! As you write that, and share it, I remember that being threatened over and over, but it never actually happened. Oh, I'm so sorry it happened to you. I hope you write lots and share more stories and never choke the words down. Thank you for sharing--you brought visceral memories back--gold coins I want to look at to see which I want to keep. xoxoxox
Wow these words punch deep inside the mind and scatter thoughts like rain drops. They hit the highs and the lows of being a small child and a teenager in a house that had a lot of angst and anger.