Writing into the Day 6/11: Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's apology to the aboriginal people of Australia
Why is it so hard to say sorry when it's something big, something important? Why do we wait so long when it matters so much? My dad and I recently discussed the Pope's apologies for some of the darker events in the history of the Catholic Church. I regularly have to remind my 3 1/2 year old son to apologize when he hurts someone (usually his little brother). I shouldn't have to remind him, but I do. It shouldn't have taken hundreds of years for people to get an apology from the Church. It shouldn't have taken hundreds of years for the aboriginal people of Australia to receive an apology from the Australian government. Why? Why is it so much easier to say sorry to someone for a minor infraction, like bumping into someone on the sidewalk? Why is that so much easier than saying sorry when we've caused harm or hurt? It is because we view "sorry" and regret and apologies as admissions of guilt? Is recognizing the enormity of our own fault what keeps us silent for so long? Do we hope people will eventually forget our transgressions, if we remain silent long enough? Saying sorry shouldn't be so hard or take so long. But it also shouldn't be tossed out casually and carelessly, because that cheapens the sentiment. We should be able to look the person, or persons, or descendents of those people, in the eye, maybe take their hand, and say, "I am sorry." It shouldn't be hard, but it shouldn't be easy. And it should be followed with "I'll do better next time." And mean it. It's not going to erase the bad things, but it can make things better from that point on. My son sometimes says, "Sorry, Mommy," when he's done something, and I've responded with "No, you aren't. If you were, you wouldn't keep doing it." I'm sure I shouldn't say that to him. I should tell him "Thank you" and "We'll both do better next time."
Response to Marcia Beaumont's TIP Demonstration 6/11--"What's in a Name?" activity
I didn't realize I had so many different names. I kept thinking of more and more, and the funny thing is that I didn't write down any negative ones on the paper plate. I know I've been called some bad things over the years, but none comes to mind. Out of all the names I've been called, the most powerful is "Mrs. McKnight". I guess that's because it means several different things. I married my husband on August 21, 1999, almost fifteen years ago. As soon as I got back to Memphis, I filled out the paperwork to change my name. I didn't keep my original name, as my sister-in-law has since done. I didn't hyphenate my last name, as some of my friends did. I was proud of my new name, glad that my husband loved me enough to change my name to his. It's also what students have called me. I hear it in varying forms: "McKnight," "The Knight", even "McNugget" from a student with a bad memory. But I like it best when I hear it as "Mrs. McKnight, I loved your class." It shows different levels of respect, depending on how it's said, I'm sure, but I've never heard it as anything but me myself.
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