The Art of Labels

#203: And of Wearing them

How strange that we can forget physical wounds easily but find it hard to forget emotional ones. Physical scars are more evident. More present in our present. Yet one can't forget a harsh word from years ago or an accusation hurled decades ago. You can't forget the labels you've been called from back when you were in 2nd grade. You still know the exact tone with which they were declared and laid on your shoulder. They ring clear. And when they ring often enough, they become truth. They then become easier to live out.

I still remember how hard I cried when a friend called me something back when I was 13 years old. I still remember the silent tears that fell after class when a teacher called me another thing when I was 16. I always manage to pull out of it. Collect myself. Not let the person know the damage he or she has done. But strange that I never manage to completely forget.

Last week, the goverment imposed certain restrictions on teachers against "labelling" kids certain things. Schoolchildren nowadays can't be called "moody" or "lazy" even when they arrive wearing their most catankerous mood or even if they haven't been turning in the last 11 out of 12 assignments. I heard the news and thought it was ridiculous. Heck, they should be able to call them that if they are. Thing is, who determines to what degree these labels are true?

Last Saturday, the son of our minister had an epileptic seizure in the shower and knocked himself unconscious. They rushed him to the hospital and after a couple of days, he was well enough to go back to school. On his first day back, he was a bit moody. (Hey, if you went through what he did and then had to go back to school, wouldn't you be moody too?) Imagine if someone who didn't know what had happened to him suddenly blurted out, "What's wrong with you, man? Why so moody? You have your period?" That would be cruel.

So I guess that's what labels can be. They can be cruel. Perhaps we all do it. Perhaps there are people we can easily classify as weak, or dumb, or selfish, arrogant, cocky. I don't know though if the best way to let them know is to tell them straight to their face. "You know what your problem is? You're a weakling. You deserve to be squashed underfoot by poodles. Or teacup chihuahuas. Choose." Again. Cruel.

There must be some anesthetic version of labelling. Maybe there is a loving way of calling someone pig-headed. "You know what? Maybe you can bite an apple and roast." That didn't sound loving.

"Oh dear, what big head you have!"
"The better to absorb my big fat self, honey."

Ah. Maybe that would be a more pleasant way to remember.