B Isn’t Just For Bus, Kids

Yesterday my children learned a new word on the way to school. They learned it on a school bus. Literally on a school bus – our car came up behind a bus, and there was this new word, written in the thick dust coating the back window, right at eye level. 

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Huckle, leaning forward as we approach the bus at a stop sign: “Hey, there’s something written on that bus! Is that a real word? It says b-tch.”

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Oh. I didn’t see that coming. Hearing the b-word from acquaintances or on television hardly phases me. But hearing it from the mouth of my child knocks the wind out of me. 

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Here we go again, I think -- another intrusion of the world’s hate and injustice into my kids’ lives, another important but unwelcome Teaching Moment. Like last year when Huckle was studying the Civil War in school and I had to explain that racism is still prevalent. Or earlier this month when he asked me why we never eat at Hooters and got an earful about the subjugation and objectification of women. 

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My Inner Feminist and my Inner Sunday School Teacher are in collusion any time someone raises hate subjects. They prepare impassioned (but long-winded) lectures about respecting and valuing others as individuals, as God’s children. 

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Today, my Inner Mommy signals them to settle down and let her handle this with a simple, unemotional, and age-appropriate answer:

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“Yeah, that’s a real word. But it’s vulgar, used to insult women. So we don’t use it in our family.”

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Huckle gives a small “huh.” 

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Our car is filled with awkward silence. Poor kid. I can tell he’s now uncomfortable with that word brazenly staring at us from the back of the bus. I’m uncomfortable too. And when I’m uncomfortable, I often switch into Over-Explaining Mode, my coping mechanism for awkward situations. Inner Feminist and Inner Sunday School Teacher rush back to the scene with reams of lecture notes and sermon notes. They have words! Lots of powerful words! But – oddly -- my Inner Word Etymologist wins out:

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“Originally, the word referred to a female dog. Now it’s more frequently used as an insult. Interestingly, it’s has been used as a vulgarity for hundreds of years old, even by Shakespeare.”

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 There. I’ve changed the subject, sweet boy. Now we can safely discuss Shakespeare. Or the history of words. Or dogs. (Or even Mom's nerdiness. What -- you mean you don't have an Inner Word Etymologist?)

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Not the best use of a Teachable Moment, think my Inner Feminist and my Inner Sunday School Teacher. They frown over this wasted opportunity.

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The back seat is quiet as my son and daughter digest their new knowledge, an unwitting Adam and an unwitting Eve. The palpable loss of innocence in my car almost hurts. It’s like seeing a condom wrapper on the playground. 

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Still, on reflection I consider it a triumph in parenting that my son didn’t know the b-word for the first decade of his life, that the worst insult he has for his sister is “purple monkey.” [“Mooo-ooooommmm. Huckle called me a purple monkey again.”] Plus, more important than any Teachable Moment is the lifelong example we give our children, modeling respect for all people. 

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Best of all, everything comes full circle by evening. Though I had to start the day by sharing a painful word that wasn't my own, I was able to end it by sharing uplifting words more wise than any of my own. Providentially, our evening reading was Ephesians 4:

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (v29)

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. (v32)

And that's a good place to end.