Category Archives: relationships

The Indictment.

March 7, 2016brain research, commentary, healing, human behavior, psychology, relationships, social behavior, social commentary, sociologyacademic pedigree, inappropriate dinner conversation, inferiority complex, inner child, mean bitches, psychological counseling, snotty behavior, superiority complex, The Bachelor, the responsibility of the licensed counselorruth ann scanzillo

In little over an hour from now, “The Bachelor/The Women Tell All” will air on ABC. This is the point, in the grande process toward “The Final Rose”, when all the jilted bachelorettes get to descend upon their alleged suitor with every grievance and moment of humiliation he’d brought to bear on their public life in a rush of female vilification that approaches the attack of a flock of buzzards. I, for one, on a night like this one cannot wait to be a mere spectator.

My online counselor and I had just completed our session. I’d asked him to let me read aloud to him from one of my blog posts, “Pedigree”, because I wanted him to know about something that had “happened to me.” To my mind, the incident about which I had written had happened to me, not because of me.

When I finished the read, I looked up at him. His face was contorted. He looked down, and shook his head. Then, he said that he felt like acid had been thrown at him. He called me snotty. He said I sounded, no; he actually looked right at me, and said it: “You’re a mean bitch!”

” It’s no wonder”, he added, “that you have so few friends!”

He also kept rubbing his forehead. It could very well be that he’d had a headache even before I signed on. If so, I am certain that it was made worse by my session, a fact that I would give him by way of compassionate concession. But, I realized that now I would be spending the evening processing that somebody who got paid to counsel individuals in the realm of human behavior had just called me a snotty, mean bitch.

Perception sometimes informs the agony of life.

I repeat: I’d asked him to let me read the blog post aloud to him, because I wanted him to know about what had “happened to me.” ; the incident about which I had written had happened to me, not because of me. He, on the other hand, insisted that I had behaved very passive-aggressively by starting the conversation, and aggressively by writing the follow up piece.

The community of psychologists and their corollaries’ consensus goes that, deep within the tangled mess we often see when we go inside, a fragile, tender child resides. We are told to fully see that child, to embrace that child, and to accept that child. That child is innocent.

At that moment, I felt like somebody just tore the skin on that child and inserted a poisonous penetrant. Psychic pain is not lost on me; in fact, in my trek through the jungle toward self-realization, I have become quite familiar with the sensation.

Where does one go, and what does one do, when one is told that others see, in the self we are trying to accept, only a snotty, mean bitch?

My first impulse is to shut down. In moments of extreme trauma, rather than act out emotionally as is my characteristic wont I simply go unresponsive. I sit very still. The muscles of my face cease any movement. I hide in plain sight, hoping that any and all external influences will retreat from their threat to my well-being.

But, being a seasoned, post-menopausal woman, I do have other options. I could take a hot shower. I could eat something that contains heavy creme and organic unprocessed cane sugar. I could meditate on those whom I love, or those who, over time, have offered the sincerest form of love.

Indeed. Even a trained counselor can have moments of lapses in humanity. Even those whose livelihood depends on the trust of the precariously healthy can make missteps. Forgiveness is the most magnanimous of traits. Time to employ it, with fervor.

Denial is only a temporary comfort. There is no place to really live in denial. Defiantly insisting, particularly at the top of my voice, that I am NOT a snotty, mean person serves nothing and nobody.

Having recently confessed, also in print, my total failure as a loving human, I’m hoping for further illumination. Perhaps the belief that we bring our own misfortune, that we invite our own misery, is worthy of contemplation tonight. I’d thought that opening the counseling session with a preamble about never having been trained in the social arts would carry some credence; apparently, when one asserts oneself in print, all bets are off.

Here’s hoping that the study in sociology presented at 8:00pm will purge me of any and all notions of superiority over others that my writing implies. After all, if one stable, otherwise healthy guy from a loving, supportive family can handle the challenge and condemnation coming at him from 25 angry females, an aging, single woman who struggles to remain relevant among her peers can certainly survive the perception of one man.

(there. I hope he’s happy.) (!)

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.

****

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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Hiding.

February 21, 2016arts education, classical music, human behavior, public education, relationships, social commentary, sociology, Uncategorizedillumination, light, public school music teachers, related arts teachers, retired teachers, self-actualizationruth ann scanzillo

You could say that I spent twenty five years hiding. In public education.

It’s possible.

You get a room. (Or, when times are tight, you don’t – in which case, you get a “cart”, and a 10×10 storage closet for the djembes and tubanos and Orff xylophones). You get a schedule. And, you get students. All the students. Every single student enrolled in the school. And, you get all five days of the week, just like everybody else with a full time job.

Beyond that, most everybody else gets from you a solid forty minutes of downtime every week. (Not all; some).The bosses like you best when they never have to remember that you are even in the building. Actually make your presence known, and you could already be in trouble.

Count on hearing about every other teacher’s birthday over the morning announcements. Expect that, when you reach your big 50th, there will be a faculty meeting scheduled keeping you on the premises for an extra forty minutes after the students leave, with nary a mention of your special day. And, of course, no announcement.

Put the entire enrollment on stage every winter and spring, in full concert mode. Get one chance to do all this in the evening, properly, but when the administrative staff is stuck running parking duty for five hundred parents, expect to be relegated thereafter to nine o’clock a.m. Greet the parents who show up in the morning because they don’t have day jobs. Recognize the docile humans, easily led to their folding chairs in the gym so that the auditorium can remain dark and the parking lot unattended, and thank them for coming.

Slip on a dusty stage floor during the musical (at 9 a.m.) lose your additional footing on a choral riser with an unstable frame, fly into the air and land in the pit in full view of an auditorium filled to capacity with K, 1 and 2, and know even before it happens that the principal isn’t even in the room to witness. Break your hip, your sacra, and a bone in your hand. Count on Workman’s Comp to provide your medical attention thereafter, preventing your ability to sue for damages.

Fall in love with thousands of children. Between the hours of 8 am and 2pm daily, help raise them. Be there as they grow into adolescence. Feel them turn. Face them, every day, the handful of sullen, dismissive ones who alpha their way into dominance over hundreds. Feel the ache in your chest. Experience the mild trauma of diminishing returns. Vow to walk away and disappear.

Finally, stop hiding. Step assuredly into your own light. Represent. Collect your thoughts and the sum of your experience. And, sign your name to your own life’s work.

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