Language: Good, Bad, and Ugly

Elitism dictates that certain vocabulary be avoided in favour of confabulated and baffling techno-speak. The main problem with this phenomenon is that professional practitioners in most fields often find themselves unable (or unwilling) to lower themselves to using familiar language that is effective in expressing difficult abstract concepts to lay-people. The lay-people in question are not unintelligent, but rather uninitiated in the bafflegab of the specific trade or field in question. How does one express higher concepts particular to a complicated subject to someone who has never even heard of the discipline involved in the first place? (Let alone being (un)lucky enough to possess deep understanding of the vocabulary.)

Most professional organisations, associations, and ‘agencies’ strictly enforce specific guidelines that dictate the way in which they wish their members to retain jealous control over their particular discipline. From burger flippers to astrophysicists, this evil cancer to enlightenment is employed to create an ‘esprit de corps(e)’ supposedly necessary to the successful retention of cohesiveness under the guise of community. Arrogant professional self-interest should never come before that of the community being serviced. And, in a perfect world I would be a few inches taller, less abrasive, and gorgeously handsome. Not that I don’t already wow the ladies with my debonair personal presentation.

“Carburetors, Man! That’s what life is all about.” Comes as the hook-line to a song from the movie "Phantom of the Paradise" which I was privileged to see at the age of 8yrs old when it debuted in the Saturday Matinee at the Odeon Theatre in Calgary in 1974 (between their normal regular showings of crappy pornographic movies. I remember the creepy men in trench coats that would hang around that place in the evenings quite clearly [poor guys]). Oh, what a brilliant and enlightening time the social experiment Canada was back in the 70’s. I’m so grateful that I wasn’t cursed to grow up in the ridiculously flamboyant and plasticly hollow 80’s, or worse, the repressive 90’s (I haven’t quite had time to digest and judge the 00’s, yet).

Why carburetors? The reference within the song implies that one should only concentrate upon the complexities inherent within one’s own domain of knowledge. Paraphrase; “…don’t even try to think about what anything really means on a deeper level, or get involved in the complexities of issues outside the stuff that you enjoy and feel safe within (in this case motor mechanics), because your efforts will surely be wasted and it will only lead to confusion and sorrow in your life…” The deeper ‘between the lines’ meaning to the person this was said to (who becomes the Phantom in question) is revealed as the insight that the true value in life is to be found within the complex interplay between the elements that are mixed by the carburetor being able to produce an expression of energy that can then be put to positive use for the entirety of Humanity.

We as individuals are only truly valuable in what we manage to add to the overall mix of human experience throughout history. A further lesson I gleaned from this important life experience of mine was that everybody needs a Satanic Record Producer to champion against. So, don't berate those who do evil too much - for without their continuing negative actions crusaders for truth and justice would have no target to foment their rallying cry to arms against. (I really wish I had the time, capacity, and opportunity to delve into the varied philosophical arguments this brings up regarding the necessity of evil[-doers].)

What does any of this have to do with social language, or the language of Developmental Disabilities? It reflects some of the stereotypical attitudes and behaviours of the Elite Professionals who are active within the field. There is a propensity for the God-like ‘Knowers’ to look down their noses at affected individuals (either patient or caregiver) as if they are so far below them that there is no hope of ever instilling understanding, so every effort towards explanation is surely futile and should therefore be avoided. It also reflects the attitude of several affected individuals to avoid even trying to understand the bafflegab involved. Both trends lead to division and enforce a lack of understanding and empathy between the two diametrically opposed groups, when what is really needed is a melding of the two sets. Professionals who arrogantly and erroneously think that they “Get It” tend to talk down to patients and caregivers that they have immediately and prejudicially deemed to be incapable of deeper understanding. Rather than lowering the complexity of their communications, it would be far more beneficial to raise the level of understanding of the listener to then be met part way between the two extremes.

If we automatically reject the more common vocabulary that is filled with colourful and descriptive language, then we limit our own ability towards understanding. Having grown up with a Mother who was a consummate Special Needs Teacher with a masters in linguistics, a member of the elite Delta Kappa Gamma Society International, and a devoted caregiver to sometimes terminal special needs foster children, I learned the potent weapon that words can be, and above all else what compassion really means. Even Shakespeare suffered censure regarding the offensive language that so often appears within his most masterful works (at least, those attributed to him). Can you imagine telling Stephen Hawking that he isn’t allowed to swear because it demeans his work? I didn’t think so.

((As an interesting side note; I had the wonderful opportunity to meet, speak with, and be inspired by personal encouragement from the consummate Human Developmental researcher Dr. Ann Streissguth, at my Mother’s entrance ceremony to DKG, as an adolescent. She even made it a point to follow [and influence] my progress throughout my educational experience, since I have always suffered from the disabling effects of possessing a sickeningly high IQ [what an arrogant and self-promoting name dropper, eh?]. As I eagerly consumed every document available to me in my lifetime I was always able to put a face and a voice to the texts written by Dr. Streissguth due to having met her, which added a certain ‘alive’ quality to my self-taught lessons. *Further name dropping shall occur throughout my discussions as I have been privileged to meet and know many researchers, artists, and public figures in my life experience – Temple Grandin made a HUGE impression upon me and personally guided me towards a better understanding of animal’s behavioural needs when I met her through my Father’s Veterinary work at the Calgary Zoo, et. al. A more obscure reference to people I know deserves mention here; I grew up knowing, interacting with, and respecting T. Lobsang Rampa and his much more loveable [and seemingly more sane] wife, Mama San Ra’ab Rampa, who always reminded me of my paternal Grandmother and greatly enjoyed and respected how I would treat her to a proper British course of tea and biscuits whenever she showed up at our primary Vet. Clinic with her entourage of feline friends. Mrs. Rampa felt so attached to me (and our family) that she directed many financial resources towards supplying me with goofy tech gadgets, communications devices, learning materials, and artworks that I would have NEVER been able to own without her incredible generosity. She even wrote a few positive and life affirming passages about me in one of her books [the title escapes me at the moment].))

More to the point of this Blog…

The first time that Sarah said, ”Fuck you!” to me I got the biggest shit-eatin’ grin that I can ever remember. Why? Because it meant that she finally got what it meant to be able to feel free and self-empowered enough to stand up for herself in the face of ultimate authority. By the way, Sarah was around 4-5yrs old when this happened, and it wasn’t done in anger but rather came out during a stiff oppositional argument regarding the imposition of my will over her personal desires (and possibly what She needed at the time that She knew was best for her). My deep affection and love of her personal character grew by leaps and bounds in that moment. I became a little bit less scared of what might happen to her in her life knowing that she wasn’t afraid to scream out NO! if somebody ever tried to unfairly inflict themselves or their prejudices upon her. A moment of true fatherly Pride.

The following 3-4yr old video is an example of Sarah’s propensity to correctly employ colourful euphemistic language. It bears no other relationship to the topic of this Blog entry.

I have also recently experienced another moment of Pride, somewhat more important to my Single Father status. During the past week of turmoil involved in striving to attend the ‘Conference’, Sarah has been experiencing her first proper menses. The fact that, other than increasing her emotional volatility, the event itself carried NO surprises, shocks, fears, or difficulties in management speaks volumes towards the value of pre-arming children to handle life’s most tedious and troublesome events that we like to refer to as growth experiences. It was nothing big to her at all due to the previous lessons we have engaged in which have involved biology, physiology, reproductive issues, and Sarah’s ownership over her own body and life experience. Although severally given the choice to engage women we know in discussions related to women’s sexuality and biological processes, Sarah has always insisted that she only wants my involvement.

Conclusion

Language is a colourful and ever changing reflection of ourselves and our own personal attitudes towards the rest of the universe. What does Your language reflect within the bounds of practice you have chosen to limit yourself to?

Course descriptive vocabulary; If you don't like it… well I think that you can imagine how I must feel towards you - or at least the language I would likely employ.

(This one was partly for you Miranda – not to offend your sensibilities, but to amuse your tolerance [which you have always displayed admirably – especially back in Junior High School when we first became friends].)

NOW… time to go wake up Sarah and face another sleep deprived, stress filled, grey and rainy West (wet) Coast day without sunshine. I hope she wakes up in the hyper-educationally aware state she went to sleep in last night (wee hours of this morning actually).

(((Favourite Podcast - - - A Gobbet o’ Pus)))

“Whatever happened to ‘Saturday Night’? When we did the Bump and felt ‘All Right’. It don’t seem the same since Cosmic Light came into my life. I thought it was Divine.” Rocky Horror Picture Show – Eddy (a.k.a. Meatloaf).

((***Follow Up: Sarah awoke in a positive mental state, and began her day by reaching for the very difficult brain teasers we were working on last night before bed. It’s interesting as they are directed at an average Adult intelligence and definitely NOT what one would expect an adolescent with difficulties to be attracted towards. Her performance on the items last night was admirable. BTW – Sarah insists that her favourite subject is Science. Maybe that’s just because I become so animated when it comes to providing descriptions of scientific principles and the proper application of Scientific Method.))