| Stephen Lewis: Snow day reveals need to teach kids to speak Southern |
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By: STEPHEN LEWIS, Post Columnist
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Posted: Sunday, February 1, 2009 7:15 am
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Ah the snow day in Rutherford County. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee from the depths of the beautiful crawler that creeps across the bottom of the TV screen all the way up to Snowbird’s cute little beak. Let’s just say that I don't know what it does for Congress' plan but it sure does a lot for my “stimulus package,” if you get my meaning.
But the snow day is so much more than laying around all day in the recliner sipping on hot chocolate with those delicious mini-marshmallows floating on top. It’s also about calling all your buddies who laughed at you when you said you were going to be a teacher and laughing at them while they trudge into work. What’s the matter Calvin? Doesn’t the equipment rental business close down when snow is predicted? And how about you Steve? Doesn’t the soup business take a break when the streets turn to black ice? Remember what Shakespeare said, “He who laughs last, laughs loudest.” Actually, I don’t know who said that but it certainly fits in this situation.
In reality the snow day is the perfect time to reconnect with family. I’ve barely seen my sons since the last snow day. I got up early to make them and my daughter a breakfast of pancakes swimming in syrup. Now mealtime is about the only time I get to talk to my boys outside of a snow day. Typically, our conversations go something like this:
Me: “Hey boys, how was school?”
One or both of them: “Mm.”
Me: “How’s that?”
Them: (Inaudible but sounds kind of like a low pig grunt).
Me: “Let’s try again boys. How was school?”
Them: (Usually a one-word answer like “fine,” “okay,” or that pig grunt again.
Me: “Never mind. Honey (talking to my wife), when is it they leave for college?”
But on a snow day they are trapped and have to communicate with a tad more clarity. Especially if they want to be taken somewhere like bowling, the movies, etc. I suppose if I would get a cell phone and learn to text I could communicate more effectively with them. Since my oldest son got a cell phone thanks to his grandma, I haven't seen his face. I only see the top of his head as he is constantly looking down at what he is texting.
The snow day is when I learned that the lack of communication between my sons and me could be attributed to something other than just a generational gap. As we talked throughout the day, I realized that I spoke a different language than they did. And as the day progressed, I discovered that my children are losing their heritage. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep them from missing out.
I remember when I was in school some of the Asian students I went to school with also went to school on the weekends to continue to study the language of their native lands. Which at that time I didn't think much of but now I realize the importance. Perhaps that is exactly what I need to start. A school for students born and raised in the South to learn how to talk like you’re from the South.
I've noticed the lack of people around here that really talk with a southern accent. I know most people, myself included, try to speak more intelligently around non-family than around family. But I never noticed how my boys had no idea of the meaning of some words I use.
For instance, I asked them if the pancakes I made for them “were any count.” Loosely translated that means “are they any good?” One of the boys said “four.” I said, “I don’t mean how many are there, I mean were they good?” Later when one asked me when we were leaving and I said, “directly,” he looked at me like I was speaking Portugese. When I saw his look I rephrased my answer by saying, “soon.” And when I answered, “I reckon,” when asked if I could pick them up by a certain time I knew all was lost when one replied, “you what?”
So maybe I’ll look into that school in a little while. Perhaps on our next snow day I’ll have some extra time. Right now I think I hear a recliner calling my name. After all, it’s been a long day, and boy I sure am tard. |
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