Posted on 02/25/2021 8:12:19 AM PST by Carpe Cerevisi
I cannot remember the name of my kindergarten teacher. I cannot remember the names of any of my first grade classmates. However, I have a very vivid memory of the only word I messed up in a first grade reading group: cupboard. I read, “Cup board.” Old Mother Hubbard would have been dismayed. In the same manner, I remember the word that brought my spelling bee prowess to an end in sixth grade: restaurant. Silly things of no importance, and yet, such memories remain and can carry a sting with them. They are sorts of things that nurture and build an inner Pharisee.
It is not unusual in confession to hear someone say that they are “judging others.” Whenever I hear this, I generally assume that the one who is being judged most harshly is the person who is confessing. The “judging” that takes place in our minds is the sound of an “inner critic,” a voice that begins early in childhood and can continue to torment us throughout our lives. It is, of course, rooted in shame, but can be a painful, even nasty voice that is harsh, unfair, and unrelenting.
We are human beings. We seek to minimize what is unpleasant and maximize the pleasurable. As such, we develop strategies in our lives to “cope.” Many of the components of what we describe as our personalities are simply the long habits of coping. Sometimes, the strategies (and so, our personalities) become our own worst enemies. The very things that once seemed to lessen pain may now be a source of pain. The force of habit, however, leaves us burdened and miserable.
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Interesting . . . I had exactly the same problem when faced with “breakfast.” “Break fast”? Huh? And I felt very foolish when the teacher kindly, patiently pronounced it for me. And I remember it to this day, well over a half century later.
I remember my first. It was the title of our Reading Primer, “Sands Through the Hourglass.”
To my credit, however, I did ask an older sibling how to pronounce “hour” and she either didn’t know herself or she managed to pull off a very bad joke.
How about eppy tome? Epitome. Or Plie mouth? For Plymouth.
Yep. A lot of pronunciations are just sooo wrong. I’ve embarrassed myself on more than a few occasions.
Daughter saw overpass with hight of 14.01n and asked what is a fourteen foot oin?
Lots of doozys.
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