It's about others. It's about graduation. It's about gratitude.

Contributed By:Dorothy Nevils

Raise a child, and it will become an adult. That’s not what you’ll find in KJV. There you’ll find language that most people you know don’t use. However, some insist that it is the “true” language, even when millions of dollars and years of grammar instruction barely make a dent.

However, this is not about language, archaic or current… or grammar, pristine or murky as all get out! It’s about others. It’s about graduation. It’s about gratitude.

If it hasn’t started yet, “robe season” is just around the corner. Boxes of invitations have found their way into some young persons’ bedrooms, and sit, waiting for the one who ordered them to get rid of them, exchanging the ivory paper, hopefully, for a dozen shades of green. Mom, perhaps, will likely inherit the job of making the lists, rounding up addresses, and, hopefully, though often not, making sure the aunt’s name is spelled correctly. Nothing says “I just want…” to a “favorite” aunt, like her name misspelled, especially by a “dear” who’s mastered all the apostrophes, accent marks, and multitude of silent letters of kids that beloved niece or nephew met three years ago in an English or math class.

It’s the parents’ duty (usually the mother’s) to teach the child about gratitude, that “nobody owes you nothing,” and whatever they give stems from their generosity. Besides, aunts, grandparents, and friends of aunts and grandparents get a box of announcements, too, an open hand in each one; and the message inside, not embossed, but with invisible letters, says, “Show me you love me,” something they’ve done all the brats’ lives!

Always, as “the-one-time-I-write-your-name” rolls around, I remember a sophomore from years ago. She went off to college, likely Indiana State, and one day, right before school was out, I found a graduation announcement in my box. She called by name teachers who had helped her, who had been there for her.

The only place I saw my name was on the envelope, a leftover announcement after she had scratched her head for names to fill out her list of people who had supported her. I was a teacher who had, before it was taboo, taken her to my home; who had taken her shopping and spent hours with her trying on prom dresses until she found one she liked, and then paid for it; who had driven her home several times so she didn’t have to walk the 20 or so blocks.

Young people don’t realize how it feels to be, for want of a better term, taken for granted. It’s a lesson that must be taught by parents and grandparents. They know from experience, especially as they age, how it feels to doubt one’s importance, so this must be instilled in young people’s lives. “Let’s get this for Grandma” usually ends in the primary years, but it must continue with a modified script appropriate to the child’s age, throughout high school, and even later, if necessary – until gratitude is second nature.

Self-centeredness is learned because an opposing lesson ends too soon. Gratitude must be a “years-long” course, complete with examples. We cannot quit because hair sprouts under the arms or beneath the chin. Teach until the hair thickens – and turns gray if necessary… training until gratitude is a natural response.

Story Posted:04/14/2017