Beating of kids or threating them with light violence

[SwedenMajidah]

Salaam Tux,

Hey who are you?

Peace
Sis Majidah

[Elena]

Peace all,have you read this? I really enjoyed reading it:
When Amanda Craig lost her voice after an operation for thyroid cancer, she found she really started to hear what her children had to say
Listen with mother
http://www.guardian.co.uk/parents/story/0,3605,1234343,00.html
Wednesday June 9, 2004
The Guardian

Any modern parent knows that, if you are to avoid smacking, argument is the only way to maintain discipline. Quiet words and sweet reason are supposed to do the trick when confronted with a tantruming toddler or angry adolescent. But of course, it doesn't always work out like that. You can find yourself screeching like one of Roald Dahl's witches, or just abjectly begging for mercy. Yet your voice is there as your prime means of keeping your children obedient, entertained, consoled and safe. Whether you use it like a whip-lash, or roar as gently as any sucking dove, it is the tool of first choice.
But what do you do if you suddenly have no voice at all?

Earlier this year, I discovered I had thyroid cancer. I had suspected I was ill for some time because I felt tired all the time, and have (despite many attempts to reverse this) gone up four dress sizes, but my GP kept telling me I was just a stressed-out working mother. Eventually, I paid for a private blood test, which revealed that I needed a scan, which revealed that I needed a biopsy, which revealed a carcinoma right over my voice-box ... and then, last month, I had to have my thyroid taken out.

The cancer was "huge", according to the surgeon, but hadn't spread. (Thyroid cancer, though excruciating to have out, is the one cancer for which a "magic bullet" exists, in the form of radioactive iodine: catch it in time, and you have a normal life-span.) That was the good part. The bad part is that, despite being operated on by the best surgeon in Britain for this problem, I have lost my voice indefinitely.

Not only do I now look like Frankenstein's monster, with stitches right across my neck, I am also the Little Mermaid - my least favourite character. Being struck dumb is a curse second only to blindness in most fairy tales; although mine is apparently temporary, and far less dreadful than being blind or deaf, I have begun to see why. The equation of a voice with power is fundamental to most human interaction, and having none affects every possible aspect of my life. Everything, from judging this year's Whitbread prize, to making sure my kids do their homework, has just become very difficult. Do you try to convey your thoughts by writing them on huge placards that other members of a panel can read, as in Edwardian theatre? Do you enact a violent pantomime, beaming like a lunatic or miming death by strangulation when Deborah Moggach, Alan Hollinghurst or David Mitchell are mentioned? At least, in my professional life as a novelist, I can communicate via email. Domestically, however, it is a nightmare.

I always wondered, when watching The Piano, how Holly Hunter's character brought up her child when unable to speak. My daughter and son are lively, imaginative, naughty and noisy, and at times it has felt as if all that stands between domestic order and chaos is the strength of my vocal cords. For me, the experience of love in my life has always been one of conversation, and my children reflect that, at full volume. Both have been used to a continual exchange of chat, questions, jokes, gossip, songs and information from the moment they were able to put two words together. Suddenly, that has been cut off. My voice lies in my throat like a ball at the bottom of a deep well, and nothing but time can get it up again.


I speak, effortfully, in a faint, breathless whisper that even someone sitting next to me finds hard to understand. It's bad enough for my husband, but to my children it seems as if I have become a ghost. Not only can I not ask them basic stuff like what their day at school was like, I can't read them stories at bedtime or comfort them with anything more than cuddles. Some friends have suggested I use a policeman's whistle, and it's true, I can whistle - or clap - as if to dogs. Otherwise, I have to whisper.

And yet - and yet - something else has happened, too. Not being able to speak forces you to listen. If words can seem like a ball kept bouncing between two players, or a shower of javelins between two armies, they can also mask feelings, and create misunderstandings. What to me is a supple, subtle knife, capable of splitting hairs, is to them a blunt instrument for conveying feeling. Children, like dogs, are acutely sensitive to the way words are said, rather than the language chosen. For them, the emotion is all in all, not what it is wrapped up in. They hate being shouted at as much as they hate being hit - if not more. Even if what you are saying is perfectly sensible and reasonable, they will only hear the volume. Though fewer and fewer parents strike their children, I suspect that more and more of us shout at them instead. How else to express impatience, frustration or even anger? You can believe yourself to be compassionate and non-violent, but raising your voice to a child can be just as terrifying as raising your hand. Each generation of my father's family has made efforts to shed an aspect of anger, from my grandfather, brought up in a notoriously cruel Edinburgh orphanage, to my father, who refused to beat his daughters with a leather belt as he had been beaten, to myself, possessor of the kind of temper traditionally associated with red hair and a voice that, when roused, has not needed a microphone when addressing a public meeting. I have tried not to use this weapon when exasperated, and all too often have failed. I never, however, expected to be forced into becoming a child whisperer.

If you just listen to a child, instead of talking to (and occasionally, it must be admitted, at) them, making the odd grunt or sigh to show you are there, no end of stuff comes out. Since losing my voice, I have learned more about what my son thinks and feels than I ever knew before. From this, I have learned that children want a silent, sympathetic audience far more than they want advice, stories or even prompting. Being able only to whisper gives them a sense of intimacy which they rather enjoy. My inability to call, bellow, shriek or yell at them means they have to come close and listen when I ask them to do something, which makes them concentrate harder on what I'm actually saying. To my great surprise my noisy, exuberant pair have become much quieter, more considerate and more obedient. I don't think it's just that I have been ill. We have been forced to listen to each other.

Children are assailed by noise, from over-loud music, films and personal stereos to the demands and instructions of adults in their lives. No wonder their concentration, in this generation, tends to be poor. They need to learn how to speak up, but they also need to be heard, much more than I ever realised, and they need peace and quiet in which to learn to hear their own thoughts. When my voice comes back, and the normal cacophony of family life returns, I hope the gift of the gab does not swamp the sounds of silence. Keeping mum as a mum isn't the end of the world. In fact, it feels like a new beginning.

? Amanda Craig's novel, Love in Idleness, has just been published in Abacus paperback, price ?6.99.

[zenje]

I will never hit my child.

Yes, I remember telling myself that before I got married... and did quiet well too, the first 2 years! I'm with Damon though, there's a fine line between abuse and discipline, and balance is key. I was beaten as a child in school, by my parents and at the madrassa. I couldve done without it, but I still respect and love my parents. As for the teachers... well, maybe I would've liked school a little more... but no regrets or blames for my life's 'problems'. I come from a 3rd world country, and when I see people here talking of spanking as abuse... they have no idea what goes on in the rest of the world. I'm not advocating beating, most of the times it doesn't serve much purpose, but at the same time, depending on the child, some spanking may be necessary. In terms of political correctness, I know this gets frowned upon... but, hey, welcome to the real world. :twisted:

[Damon]

Salaam all,

Well put Zenje.    And quite an eye opener at that.

BUUUUT........he just did it again about five minutes ago. My three year old son just ruined another pair of underwear by, once again, sneaking off somewhere and proceeded to unload in his underwear even though he didn't go on the potty when we put him on it.

I'm sorry guys, I know Joe said that it's independence on his part, but I can't help but to feel as though it's more like stubborness instead. Needless to say, I gave him a whack on his boody. The thing is it wasn't a harsh wack and that's probably one of the reasons why he isn't taking this, as well as other things, seriously at all.

My wife and I use spankings  sparingly and we're content to just talk to them and yell at them when we feel it neccessary. Man, this is beyond frustrating. :x

By the way, thanx guys for giving me the congrats on the little bun my wife and I have in the oven.  

Salaam,
Damon.

[zenje]

Salaam Damon,

BUUUUT........he just did it again about five minutes ago.

:lol:

Are you gonna check if it's a boy/girl in advance (ultrasound)?... or do you wanna be surprised?

[tux]

Peace be upon you zenje, all

My father hit me too as a child, not hard though.
I have forgotten all about that, but what I can?t forget is one time when my father hit my little brother and he went to school crying. It was 13 years ago and even today when I think about it I feel sad and angry. I?m maybe a little bit weak but that?s how I feel.

Let me put it this way; I hope I never hit my child.

[Damon]

Peace Zenje,

Are you gonna check if it's a boy/girl in advance (ultrasound)?... or do you wanna be surprised?

I find that it is quite effcient to find out in advance for preparation purposes (name of child, color baby clothes to buy, etc.)

We already have two boys, so my wife is hoping that we have a girl this time. I'm hoping for the same thing I had hoped for with our first two....a healthy baby GOD Willing.

Salaam,
Damon.

[zenje]

Peace tux and Damon,

Congratulations to both of you on your upcoming attractions.

Keep these prayers in mind;

3:38.   It was then that Zachariah called on his Lord, he said: ?My Lord, grant me from You a good progeny, You are hearer of the prayers.?

46:15.   And We enjoined the human being to honour his parents. His mother bore him with hardship, gave birth to him in hardship, and his weaning lasts thirty months. Until he has attained his maturity, and reaches forty years, he says: ?My Lord, direct me to appreciate the blessings You have bestowed upon me and upon my parents, and to do righteousness that pleases You. And let my progeny be righteous. I have repented to You; I am of those who have surrendered.?  

Peace.

[tux]

Peace

Thanks zenje

[Zlatan]

I wish you peace, well being and salvation warda, all

sorry for the late response i was ill 2 weeks, down to bed...

So do you have a boy? I will ask my princess what she thinks about our arranged wedding at the age of four :lol:
Zlatan, if I may ask: isn't your name slavish?

yes i do have a boy, actually 2 of them, a four and a 6 year one...

And yes my name is slavish and it means Golden

best wishes, Zlatan