Category Archives: Deep Thoughts

Be Ignored.

February 26, 2016Deep Thoughts, human behavior, nostalgia, psychology, relationships, social behavior, social commentary, sociologybehavioral theory, bullies, bullying behavior, exceptional children, exceptionality, sixth grade, social majority, theories about bullyingruth ann scanzillo

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Sixth grade stands out.

I think it’s because that is the year girls team up. Teaming, in and of itself, can be a good thing — I suppose sociologists would say that young females, approaching puberty, unconsciously network in advance of the hormonal onslaught which will, unquestionably, completely upset their lives. Yes; banding together has its points, if only to keep the hair product and mascara from running away with the human soul.

But, as we all should remember, the motive is paramount.

Teaming, regardless of gender, is particularly effective when it becomes ganging. And ganging is usually grounded in an intent to suppress, or bully.

As for bullying, social scientists have pretty much settled on the defining character of a bully: insecure; cowardly. Yes; the Bully collective is nothing more than selective grouping according to need – in this case, need based in coveted security and safety through numbers.

These gangs of bullies form because they actually fear that another, or group of others, is superior. Perhaps the larger society of adults which surrounds them has provided the acknowledgement which feeds their perceptions. If adults have not provided sufficient emotional nourishment, pre-adolescents enter a deprived state and feel inadequate. Whatever the catalyst, each member rallies to obliterate the source of their feelings of inadequacy. And the source are the stand outs – the Exceptionals.

Exceptionals are found at the extreme ends of the spectrum. The intellectually gifted and/or talented, and the physically or mentally challenged – these are the socially distinct. On the one hand, the gifted are both adult oriented and adult reinforced; on the other, and out of necessity, the physically and mentally challenged receive a noticeable degree of adult attention. Both are a threat to those who have been deprived of sufficient nurture, and become the object of their ridicule.

What is fascinating, however, is what actually happens when the Bully gangs form; they effectively succeed in “flipping” the scene. The Exceptionals, initially perceived as superior, are stripped of anything with which they might have rightfully been attributed, traumatized so incessantly so as to render them psychologically injured, and often grow up believing that they are, at heart, rejectable.

But, those in the middle of these extremes, what will later comprise the Social Majority, settle into a degree of contentment with their team. Their members possess neither traits too exceptional to set them apart, nor emotional needs too deep; consequently, all attentions are consistently focused on the group, itself.

Usually formed by children from larger, and/or socially stable families, the Social Majority are immune to the predatory bullies because they are perceived as non-threatening. Having no need for the Exceptional – who invariably find one or two others of their ilk with which to agree to travel solo – these are effectively ignored.

By the end of sixth grade, the stage is set and the players know all their lines. And, this, my dear readers, is Western society. Still feel like pledging allegiance?

In our time, I have noted a couple key behaviors that still carry the vestiges of these most intricate of childhood strategies. The manifestations of these are among the most subtle of human interactions. Most won’t even notice them. The reason is inherent.

Most everyone in possession of a lucid sense of self can recall from which of the three “teams” she, or he, has come. Most, statistically, are among the Social Majority; the few who were Bullies probably wouldn’t address this discourse at all. And, the least populous, the Exceptionals, will recall – with more than one twinge – every visceral reminder.

But, what most may not perceive is that, as adolescence yields to adulthood, certain shifts occur. Occasionally, one from the Social Majority may – either by discovering a hidden exceptionality, or being offered an opportunity which radically alters the landscape – find her or himself traveling solo. One who may have been a Bully may fall into spiritual fortune, finding unprecedented securities and safeties heretofore unimagined. And, one with acknowledged traits which had been isolating in childhood may be welcomed by a large society of those who see value in their mutual connection.

On the surface, this may seem like Fortuna. Who would argue against social acceptance, on either side, for any reason?

Precisely.

But, regardless where one ends up in the grande scheme of social constructs, wherever one’s experience is rooted will inescapably color all future behaviors.

If given the opportunity to feel inferior, a Bully will bully again. An Exceptional will retreat, self-isolate, if bullied. And, one from among the Social Majority will ignore all else to seek out the familiarity of like-minded friends.

But, there is yet another layer. Deep in the heart of the subconscious, all behaviors – both experienced and observed – are learned. At moments under duress, every girl or boy actor reappears, and the costumes change; inexplicably, an Exceptional ignored by the Social Majority might become aggressive, almost bullying her way into a group. A Bully might push any and everybody out of her path, seeking solitude. And, a whole family from among the Social Majority might suddenly decide to bully its weakest member.

I sometimes become overwhelmed by nostalgia. Parts of my childhood were nearly heavenly, most particularly the earliest years. But, I remember sixth grade. I sat in the front, not to appear exceptional but because, ever since second grade when I was too tall to be one of the cute little girls who were assigned them, I would scramble every year thereafter for a front seat. Plus, I had the century’s most transparent crush on my sixth grade teacher. Sitting in the front enabled me to smell his cologne, and see if his dark brown eyes would ever look directly into mine. He was gay. He wore a turquoise ring from Arizona, where he spent the summer. And, after we graduated from sixth grade, he sent me a postcard from Rome of the fountain in the square, told me he’d tossed a penny into it for me, and signed the card by telling me I could now call him Jim.

I don’t remember much else about the students in sixth grade. I had one friend, Debbie, who moved away when we all left for junior high school. Because they all sat behind me, I couldn’t have known what any of them were really doing. I do remember seeing groups of girls, always walking away from me, and boys’ fleeting sidelong glances, through squinted eyes.

Children, just like people, are usually oblivious of the patterns that shaped them and continue to inform how they treat others. But, depending on the role we played in sixth grade, we may or may not, as adults, find ourselves behaving in or out of character. Sometimes we’ll ignore others, purely due to preoccupation. We might, if we finally find a group that totally accepts us, deliberately ignore an exceptional, driven by some deep memory of the pain of need. At other times, we might find ourselves shoving somebody else around, with words or attitudes, temporarily emboldened by fears of inadequacy. At still others, immersed in that which enables us to thrive, we might look up to find that everyone else has left the room.

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Let’s be whatever moves us. Take solitude. Seek to be surrounded by our own kind. Or, be ignored. Recognize actions taken both toward and against us as reactive, often part of old patterns cut by the years when the teams formed around us. Though we might sometimes benefit from a little coaching, life doesn’t have to be a game. Whatever we choose, let’s be mindful of that which nourishes; if we do that, there will be plenty of room for everyone to play, and the attention we both give and receive will always be true and good.

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Pedigree.

February 14, 2016classical music, Deep Thoughts, performance, psychology, relationships, sociologyacademic heirarchy, academic stature, collegiality, credentials, pedigree, pianists, rank, resumes, status, Steinway pianos, the generation that saved their moneyruth ann scanzillo

*Author’s Note: The point of contention addressed by this piece turned out to be a semantic misunderstanding. However, the greater issue is believed by the author to be important enough to render the piece a valid contribution to the overriding dialogue. Thank you all for reading.

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I just spent the evening with a table full of qualified professionals. A remarkable collective, really. One award winning, internationally celebrated soloist (who really was the life of the party); two versatile percussionists, one of them on the brink of completing a doctorate in music theory, the other executive director of a symphony orchestra; at least one opera composer, with a history as a Metropolitan tenor; an accomplished flutist with an arts management degree, currently in charge of a chamber orchestra; a harpsichordist, with a doctorate in musical arts and an international resume as performer and juror; a tubist, with a full time college instructorship and a degree in music administration; a published historian and ethnomusicologist; a science education specialist; and, two arts marketing associates.

Oh; and: me.

Having chosen to save my earnings for many years, at this juncture I hold few of what most would call printed credentials. Beyond the undergraduate degree in music education, I carry nothing on paper except the music currently on the docket in my satchel, and a recorded resume of nearly a lifetime of works performed.

Perhaps somewhat blindly, I operated for over two decades under the erroneous assumption that doing was of greater value than submitting time and money to training. I truly believed that demonstrating a capacity to execute at a high level carried its own legitimacy.

But, subtly, time made its indelible mark on all that. Now, I find myself surrounded by individuals who easily welcome each other into their “ranks” – be they academia, or administration, or the world stage – in an unspoken acknowledgement of collegiality. They arrive, resumes in tow, and receive automatic power of place.

Last fall, I purchased a coveted musical instrument: a brand new Steinway Model M grand piano. This investment was made possible by a lifetime of daily effort – working in public education as a music teacher, performing in two local orchestras, and saving most of my income for the future. Contrary to what may be assumed, I took not a penny from either my father or my mother, or anybody else, to finance this acquisition.

My father, a self-employed barber, counted his money on the kitchen table every Friday night, stacking the coin and single bills. A self-employed seamstress and part time semi-automatic machine operator, my mother had saved – at the time of her death – some $70,000 which was placed into an annuity and eventually divided equally between her three offspring. My portion remains in an interest bearing account. No; I did not use that small inheritance to purchase this piano.

But, there are those who raise at least a corner of an eyebrow when they find out that the girl who never made it onto the roster of the academically accomplished found enough cash for a Steinway. Such valued instruments are customarily seen only amongst the performance elite. And, in order to be considered among them, one must present, you guessed it: the pedigree.

Well, allow me.

The term “pedigree” is used most commonly to define the breeding history of domestic animals. When I hear anybody utter the word, I experience a momentary reaction. My body adjusts its position, and the image of a stiffly postured, condescending British male in a topcoat and dress hat, with neck scarf and walking stick, takes shape in my consciousness.

Apart from that bestowed by both my parents, and their parents before them, I have none such. What I bring to the table are the fingers and thumbs on my two hands, the arms that bear them, and the mind and heart that drives them to action. There may not be a credentialed appointment with my name attached, but there will be music made, just the same.

After enjoying a sumptuous dinner of steak and potatoes, and sharing a chocolate dessert with my dinner companions I managed to offend at least one of them by inquiring into her position and misappropriating a term by identifying a colleague, whose position had been eliminated, as her mentor. She insisted that her pedigree didn’t include the referenced colleague at all. Apparently, when one has reached high rank, one doesn’t take kindly to being diminished by assumptions regarding how such status was achieved. There is a protocol to this business of acknowledgement, after all – and, arriving uninformed is the first insult.

To combat loneliness in advancing age, acquiring a pet is strongly advised. I’m told that lap dogs, for those allergic to cat dander, are portable and can even be house trained. After tonight, I’ve decided to seriously consider various breeds. Mine would have to be small, sweet, bright, and alert, but quiet and affectionate. Perhaps I should spend concentrated effort in this search; after all, if people really see this here girl only as a barber’s daughter who happens to love the hell out of playing the piano and cello, a dog with a real pedigree might be just the ticket to save her from total oblivion.

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Take It, Personally. *

January 9, 2016Christian fundamentalism, civic commentary, commentary, contemplative essays, Deep Thoughts, family history, human behavior, psychology, sociology, The Art of Practicing Institute 2015democracy, freedom of choice, hierarchy in management, inner life, Julian Assange, personalization, subserviation, the meditation movement, unrealized dreams, voter fraud, what happened to meritocracy?, what threatens our institutionsruth ann scanzillo

*[FINAL DRAFT.]

Anxiety.

The community of social workers and psychologists might say that, statistically, the increase in anxiety disorders within American culture has reached epidemic proportions. And, the drugs dispensed to treat such disorders have become almost commonplace.

But, why?

Perhaps one of the reasons our society is experiencing so much of the old angst is because we spend too much time personalizing the behavior of those around us.

We absorb everything that happens. And, this informs not just our reactions, but our very selves.

The whole meditation movement, which seems to be keeping pace with the increase in social ills, is really based in turning attention inward. But, finding our Selves, for many of us, is a real task.

When we first step inside, we’re hit with a rush of Presences. And, furthermore, most of those we recognize as populating the space we call our inner life are ones about whom we don’t feel particularly fond.

Yes; that first “visit” with Self is somewhat of a shock.

For most of us, those we encounter first are family predecessors. Parents, relatives, an older sibling, spouses of same. Alive or dead, these all appear. Next, those who populate the belief system around which we were raised. Believe it or not, no pun intended, such systems shape our realities from birth and should never be underestimated. And, then, perhaps the most present: the administrators, the bosses, the supervisors, even some colleagues. Seems that, wading through all these characters, we can hardly find ourselves. Indeed, the room is full!

And, it isn’t their smiling faces we see; rather, it is the symbolic spectre they impose. Each seems to be present precisely to pass will and judgment on our right to live according to that which expresses our fullest self.

Parents bequeath to us any number of their own unrealized dreams; siblings, their competitive edge. Priests, ministers, Sunday School teachers, with their visceral tales of admonishment and condemnation. Employers, supervisors, each with the agenda that propelled them into management, hell bent on subserviating us via the systems they peddle. Together, they fill our subconscious with a collectively Expert Opinion. It’s a wonder we can claim a single motive as our own.

Most recently, we have all been grappling with an even larger entity, one which – in contrast to those which bespeak our past – is quite foreboding: our government.

Why, in a country wherein, for generations, its people never had to give a second thought to the day to day impact of those in power, we are now faced with forces that seek to alter the very quality of our hours. Living at the behest, even the mercy, of these used to be what we’d read about in History or Social Studies classes – viewing photos of long lines of citizens, living in remote nations, waiting to receive allotted food or clothing.

Now, such a scenario doesn’t seem so far off.

Perhaps we feel this more acutely during an election year. We realize that our government is designed to include, even welcome, our input – but, we feel less and less valued by that system. We are no longer sure that our vote will either matter or even be fairly counted. In fact, we’ve learned to suspect that the structure of our democracy has been intractably corrupted.

And, all of this compounds. When we awaken, there is an unspecified restlessness that meets us. It’s as if, by setting our feet on the floor beside the bed, we are opening the door of our psyche and letting them all in. And, they come, running.

Maybe some of us feel like this because of time of life. If we have lived beyond the developing years, the embarking years, the ambitious years, the competitive years, we’ve reached an established point of alleged arrival. The Now, for someone of our generation, is the Future for which we all planned.

And, plan we did.

We thought that, along with the modest financial freedom that came with foresight and diligence, the serenity and bliss that was sure to come from the belief that we had done the right thing would follow. Surprise; the scene is far from idyllic. Now, every constant upon which we based our decisions seems threatened.

Each of us needs to make greater effort, each day, to face the mirror in true solitude. We only think that those around us are watching and listening. They aren’t. They only see others as either a help or a hindrance to their own goals. While there may be a hierarchy in our niche of the world, we do not have to live as if our position within it is either dictated or determined. Change is still far from a luxury, and outcomes are potentially as varied as the paths open before us. At any moment, the only aspect of human behavior we really should personalize is the next step we, alone, will take.

And, take it we must, while we are still free.
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