Spanking Kids Leads to Adult Mental Illnesses – ABC News

Can spanking your child on the butt be cause of mental illness as those kids become adults? This study claims that to be true. But in my mind the study doesn’t go far enough.

As pointed out in this news story its long been understood that severe physical, mental or sexual abuse does lead to mental illness among victims.

Spanking Kids Leads to Adult Mental Illnesses – ABC News.

If this study is to be understood should participants also be tested or judged on all that they’ve become as adults? The assumption by this author is that all of us, even the most well adjusted, are mentally challenged in some form or another. All of us have certain quirks, worries, anxieties and occasionally depression (be it mild or more pronounced).

Let a study report on what percentage of those spanked in childhood become more disciplined, harder working, physically fit, and generally well-adjusted versus those who didn’t face stern discipline in their youth. In order words, focus on the positive not the negative. Then we can better judge how to best parent the next generation.

Thanks for visiting. Comments are welcome.

Father’s Day

My thoughts on Father’s Day seldom drift toward me and my kids. They always tend toward my Dad. He died November 30, 2001, the cherry on the sundae of the worst year in my life.

My dad and brother, Jerry and Jeff.

My Dad was a unique character. Jerome Mathis Schuett was born in Bellingham, WA in 1937, Grandson of a German immigrant; and son of a logger. While he frequently spoke lovingly of his father’s industry he was the only one of the three son’s of Shelby and Delores Schuett to never work in the timber industry.

My Dad left Bellingham for Washington State College in Pullman in 1956. Like all WSU grads he was a Cougar through and through. And he infected all the rest of his family with his love of all things crimson and grey.

My Dad’s temper, alleged philandering, and complete and total disregard for anything my Mom cared for led to their divorce when I was in the 4th grade. By the time I was in the 5th grade he had successfully sued for legal custody of my brother and I. He was one of only 17% of divorced men in the 1970’s to win custody in a court of law over mothers.

And thank God he did. He raised my brother and I to be very independent. By the time I was 13 years old I was cooking or preparing all my breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. I was doing my own laundry. And if my Dad ever asked to see my report card….I can’t remember it.

My Dad was flawed in so many ways. In fact there were long stretches of my adulthood, months and on one occasion years, where I didn’t speak with him. He was often crude. He was almost always devoid of any knowledge or care of hurting another human beings feelings. He was the macho man, only NOT.

Jerry Schuett made a lot of friends. But not a lot of close friends.

He left an impression on me that has been so deep and so lasting because he was there. Twenty-five percent of all Dad’s aren’t even present for the raising of their children. In the black community statistics are abhorrent. More Dad’s aren’t there than are. So knowing my Dad attended all my soccer, basketball, baseball and football games through high school puts him above a lot of Dad’s. Knowing he wanted us to be raised by him rather than our mother means a lot too.

Knowing his many flaws and that he and I clashed a lot, some have questioned why I miss him so much. My only logical answer is that he was always there. And now he is not.

At bare minimum, I know I have provided my kids at least that.

Thanks for visiting. Comments are welcome.

Kids Should be More Afraid of Their Parents than Police

I was watching some classic Richard Pryor last Friday night, Richard Pryor Live in Concert, when he started talking about kids.

In the segment above you see him portraying a little kid so afraid of getting in trouble with his parents that he lies to them.

In this brief segment, he talks about his parenting philosophy:

It was then that it occurred to me that Richard Pryor was wrong and his parents were right. Kids have lost their fear of their parents in this day and age. And it means kids have lost their respect for their parents too often as well.

For the record, I am not advocating BEATING your kids. On the other hand, I see nothing wrong with a spanking when appropriate and not done in anger. No parent should ever punish their child in anger. My Dad use to punish me in anger all the time and nearly 40 years later I still resent it. And if other kids are like I was, I often didn’t understand why I was being punished or why I was being punished so severely.

But on the few run-ins with law enforcement I had in my youth I can tell you I was more concerned with what my Dad would do and think than I was concerned with police or courtrooms or jail. They couldn’t hold a candle to my fear of what would happen at home.

My father never beat me. Richard Pryor talked about his Mama “kicking his ass”, but my guess is “kicking his ass” amounted to a switch across his backside. When I was little my brother and I got a wooden kitchen spoon across our bottoms when being disciplined. I did not want that! Thinking about it now and I can’t imagine such a device cause me any pain. But at the time, that spoon was terrifying.

And even the spoon was retired by the time I was 12 years old. By that age I was already taller than my Dad, so him getting physical with me was pretty limited. By age 16 it was non-existent. But that didn’t change my fear of him. Getting in trouble with my Dad was just about the worst thing I could do. Trouble with teachers, coaches and even police paled in comparison. And as it turned out, I grew into being a fairly successful man (I actually consider myself very successful because of the people in my life).

Being fearful of your parents does not mean you don’t love them and respect them. If you are a believer in The Bible numerous passages tell us to fear God. Deuteronomy 6:13 says, “It is the LORD your God you shall fear. Him you shall serve and by his name you shall swear.” Ecclesiastes 5:7 says, “For when dreams increase and words grow many, there is vanity; but God is the one you must fear.” But numerous Biblical directives tell us to love God. Mark 12:30 says, “And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” And, obviously there are numerous others. A kids feelings toward their parents can and should be the same balance between fear and love.

Do parents fear disciplining their kids because their kids won’t like them? On the subject of discipline kidshealth.org writes: “If parents don’t stick to the rules and consequences they set up, their kids aren’t likely to either.”

As teenagers we all tried to get away with as much as we could with our parents. But the extent of what kids now get away seems to be far beyond what it use to be. Drug and alcohol use is up compared to 20 years ago. Teen birth rates climbed tremendously from 1940 to a peak in 1994 of 45.8 births per 1000 teens. It’s decline since then coincides directly with increased abstinence education; showing that teaching kids what they don’t want to hear actually works. Yet births to unwed mothers, many teenagers, has reached record levels.

On the positive side high school dropout rates have declined over the long-term. And teen criminal activity has also declined, at best, or remained static at worst. It depends on what you read.

I’ll be curious what statistics show about the past 3-5 years when such information is more readily available. Bad economic times can translate into bad social behavior. Whether that remains true, time will tell.

If you thought this blog was going to be about how bad things are compared with “the good ol’ days”, I’m sorry to disappoint. Education has gone a long way to overcome a lot of what ails individuals in society. But most of that education comes from better educated parents, and much of that education comes from good, loving parents unafraid to put the fear of God into their kids.

Thanks for visiting. Comments are welcome.

A Scar from my Dad that Won’t Heal.

This was So important to meWhen my daughter came to me this morning before school to tell me that she and her fellow cheerleaders were cheering at the first girls basketball game of the year I sighed slightly and started to tell her my busy schedule would prevent me from attending. As I spoke these words her gentle and sweet 13-year-old face…sunk. She clearly expected me to be there as I have been for virtually all her cheerleading events of this year and all other flute, choir, school related performances she has ever been part of.

When I realized that my schedule wasn’t THAT busy, at least not busy enough to disappoint my daughter I told her I’d be there. She smiled a broad and bright smile and gave me a kiss. I’d made her happy and it didn’t cost me anything more than my time, a mere 60-90 minutes.

Only this past football season I saw a college football star being interviewed after a big performance in a game when the interviewer asked, “Your Mom is here. I understand she never missed one of your games as you were growing up.” The ball-player laughed, smiled and said, “Heck, she never missed an assembly”.  Pretty special mom, I thought.

Sales-trainer-author Tom Hopkins said some years ago, “When your kids bother to tell you about an event, realize IT’S IMPORTANT TO THEM! If it wasn’t important, they wouldn’t tell you.” I know it may seem obvious to some, and those “some” are the parents of young kids or no kids. When your children reach their teens there are all kinds of things, and events they don’t tell you about; many that you wish they had.

If you are not there, or you somehow prevent your kids from being-there at an event they told you about or participating themselves you could be hurting them for a lot longer than the youthful, immature disappointment of missing something they had a fleeting interest in. My Dad’s ill temper and poor judgement on one such issue scars me to this very day. And it still hurts.

I am and always have been a huge sports fan. My first love was basketball. It’s a love I inherited from my father. He was a Seattle Sonics season ticket holder from their first year in 1967 until illness and disability caused him to give up his tickets in 1997. When I was growing up I had posters on my bedroom wall of all the Sonic Stars; Spencer Haywood, Fred Brown, Slick Watts, Leonard Grey, Leaping Lee Winfield, Coach Bill Russell, and Lenny Wilkins.

I was 15 years old when the Sonics won the NBA Championship in June 1979 and like so many others in the greater-Seattle region I made plans to attend the Championship Victory Parade Downtown the following Monday. Since I lived in Bellevue and the parade was on a school day planning was no small matter. I got permission from my Dad to skip school, then contacted all my friends who I wanted to go with, figured out the bus routes I’d need to take and got really excited. It was gonna be great. Nothing like this had EVER happened in Seattle and as it turned out never would again, at least at this point.

Problem was on Sunday, the day before the parade my Dad retracted his permission for me to go. He had been drinking. He was always an angry drunk. And in a moment in which he felt I back-talked to him (I guess) he told me I wasn’t going to the parade. I was shocked! I was absolutely shocked! This was going to be the biggest event in my life to that point and I had made all my plans. But my Dad had spoken. I got the impression he was genuinely pleased with himself for striking such a moving blow to his son. My size took away the option of him getting physical with me anymore. So his choices of discipline had been significantly hampered.

I was alone at school the next day. All my friends were at the parade. It was an unusually warm and sunny day for the city of Seattle. Everyone was in T-shirts. Estimates put the crowd at well over 200-thousand people. When my friends returned later in the day they stopped by my home to share just how wonderful it was. They didn’t have to. I knew beforehand that it was going to be a memory of a lifetime.

Some days later my Dad glowered over me about it. He says he called my school that day to make sure I’d gone to school. I don’t think my Dad ever fully appreciated the fact that I was a good kid. I did what my parents told me, always. I hadn’t even considered skipping school after he told me I couldn’t. But I would never forget.

As you can probably tell in my writing I still resent the hell out of my Dad for taking this event from me. No other Seattle major sports team has won a professional championship since that sunny week in June 1979. In the 33 years since then news accounts and occasionally friends will reference the parade and how wonderful it was. Trust me. I know.

Talk this week of Seattle getting a new sports arena for the NBA and possibly the NHL has revived the references to the championship and the parade and the long ago ache that never seems to go away. I still have the Seattle PI Headlines and Sports page from the championship framed and on display in my home.

I try to remember the hurt my Dad caused with his temper. Because I have a temper. And unlike my father I would never take joy from crushing my children. I’m not perfect, so I’m not saying I haven’t made mistakes. I hope I haven’t. But I do keep in mind that my words, deeds, and discipline of my kids have impact. Sometimes…lifelong impact. Just like every parent.

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A Father’s Love. Happy Birthday to my Son.

This kids is now 20

Do your kids know you love them? Let me rephrase and get specific. Do your adult kids know you love them? From my experience and observations its not such an easy question. Coming through the turmoil that many teens put their parents and family through hard feelings are developed and those hard feelings can and sometimes do last a lifetime. Sadly, they usually extend from child to parent and not the other way around. I know there are exceptions. But I honestly can’t imagine a father’s love dissipating because of teen troubles.

These thoughts are on my mind today as my one and only son turns 20 years old. There are lots of milestone birthday’s but to me this is THE big one. Legally we all become adults at 18 years of age, and at 21 we are legally able to drink in most states. But at twenty you leave behind the teens, the label you’ve had stuck on you for seven years, and you become in the eyes of the world…not just the law…a real adult.

Coming just over 2 weeks from Christmas I’ve always felt my wife and I didn’t adequately recognize and celebrate my son’s birthday. I regret that. And this year is no different. My son has plans. He’s 20. Of course he does. And, of course, he will the rest of his life. Our time has past.

My initial question weighs on my mind. I can’t imagine that I’m the only parent who thinks about such things. Our oldest daughter is now 24. Her challenges as a teen were shocking and remarkable for her mother and I. We really were not prepared. We did the best we could but we felt derailed and couldn’t figure out why our perfect little girl had turned into such a handful. Then it was my son’s turn. Having been close at hand and witnessing the many challenges our daughter laid before us and the whole family I really couldn’t imagine our son wanting to go through and put us through such pain. But he did. And it was not good. The arguing, the yelling, the disappointments, the crushing disappointments. It was really heart breaking.

Obviously I’m not being specific. And you don’t need to imagine two awful little tyrants (either our kids, or us parents). It doesn’t matter. Because fortunately it’s behind us. My daughter lives away from us and while we can hardly say we like everything she does. It’s OK. It’s perfectly OK. It’s her life and my love for her is eternal. My son is still in our home and is still in need of Mom and Dad, or at least our home and food. And his current life is not completely as I’d want it but like our oldest, it’s OK. Isn’t it? Isn’t it the same with your adult kids?

I can say with complete and unwavering conviction I love my kids. I would die for them. I would give all that I own for them. And when we’re apart I miss them terribly. And I’m confident they love me. So my worries aren’t deep, but because of the troubles of the past AND my own feelings toward my own failed parents…some tiny doubt remains. And that tiny doubt sucks. Am I the only one? Tell me. Do the troubles of the teens carry into hard feelings for adult kids? What is your experience?

For me, I won’t be caught off guard if the troubles return. I’ll certainly handle them better…for I still have a 13 year old daughter who at present shows no sign of going through the challenges of her siblings. But its coming. And when it does I’ll be prepared. And I’ll love her too. For a father’s love is unbreakable.

The "Schwa"

Happy birthday to my beautiful and wonderful son.

Thanks for visiting. Comments are welcome.

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