Sports are considered very important for children’s development, and rightly so. Participating in such activities promotes healthy competition and a better understanding of one’s self. It also, supposedly, promotes teamwork. But there is a problem there, which I will refer to as the fallacy of teamwork: playing together and playing as a team are two very different aspects. Confusing them can lead to serious consequences in terms of parent-child relationship. It can also have negative consequences for a child’s development.
As I have mentioned before, experiencing is an integral part of being an author. You must see the world around you before you write. And so, I have learned to pay attention to seemingly unimportant events around me. Let me tell you two little stories that are related to today’s topic, the fallacy of teamwork.
Playing together and playing as a team are two vastly different concepts
No other word must be more misunderstood, misused, and abused than “love”. To an extent it might be a matter of linguistic shortcomings, to another extent it might be an issue of manipulation – perhaps precisely exploiting the linguistic ambiguity of the word. But the fact remains that the word “love” is used too lightly, without any real thought behind its choice. Often it’s used in contexts that appear self-evident, such as “the love of a mother for her child is the greatest love of all”. But can love really be unconditional – and should it? Or would conditional love be in fact the only form of true love?
Whenever the topic of overprotecting parents and overprotected children pops up in a discussion, I begin with the following story. It’s a scary funny story; to me much more funny than scary, though modern-day parents might be appalled. It’s them in particular that need to read this article.
I must’ve been seven or eight years old. As a kid growing up in the 80s, I had freedom the likes of which is only whispered today, late at night, around the proverbial fire. I walked alone to school since I was six, crossing busy highways, walking next to strangers. My mother wasn’t afraid of someone kidnapping me, or a car running me over. In the summers I went to the countryside, to spend my summer vacation with my grandparents. They loosely kept an eye on me, but I was basically running around free, coming home after dark. Overprotecting parents? What’s that?
One day – I must’ve been ten or eleven years old – I returned to my grandparents’ house after playing outdoors under the scorching sun (no sun protection, no sun glasses, and probably no cap either). I was really thirsty, so I grabbed the bottle of water waiting on the floor next to the fireplace. In fact, I was so thirsty that I didn’t stop to think why would a bottle of water be on the floor. I drank several gulps before I realized something was terribly wrong. Yep, I’d drunk lighting fluid instead, which my grandparents – in their infinite wisdom – kept in an empty water bottle. I saw a clear liquid inside a bottle still having the water brand label, so I drank it. Can you blame me?
I was terrified, but even more so when I heard a neighbor suggesting I should be taken to the hospital. My grandparents agreed that there was no danger – they gave me to drink some milk and olive oil. I threw up a couple of times, but I was fine a few hours later. Every time I belched in the next couple of days, it smelled like teen spirit as if a diesel engine had disintegrated. Once I actually thought to try and see what would happen if I belched over open fire, but apparently some sort of survival instinct was still present, and I didn’t. Ah, fun times… It’s these kinds of experiences and memories that give you something to write about in later years.
Do you think the parents of these children would worry about them being outdoors alone?
