Blackwater Writing Project

February 08, 2011

May I Please?

Don't "they" always say that it's much easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission?

And who is "they," really?

Regardless, asking permission is important to me. Maybe it's the "whopper" in me (WOPT: What Other People Think), but I need approval. Quite often it seems. I guess I equate permission with approval. If I ask permission to do XYZ, then I receive approval for the choices I make. It happens when I request leave at work. I ask permission to be away from work (using, of course, time I've earned and accrued, but I still need permission to take it). When my boss responds, I am getting approval for my choices. Do I feel guilty about asking permission to take Friday off so I can spend the day with my daughter, engaging in activities at school all day to celebrate Georgia Day? Absolutely. But when it's approved, I feel validated. As a mom. As an employee. Or maybe that's just Working Mom Guilt.

Over the Christmas break, I taught my daughter and step-daughter how to excuse themselves from the table. I'm not a fan of people just popping up when they're done eating, but I understand and remember how boring it can be for a 7 year old to listen to grown up talk long after the meal is over. Manners are important--ma'am and all its forms (yes, no, and in the form of a question) is expected in my house. And likewise, I'm not a fan of the "I wants" and other such demands. So, we had a lesson about getting up from the table, complete with practice and execution. They have to ask permission "May I please be excused?" and then wait for one of us to say "Yes, you may." They learned after a few wobbles and finally have it figured out.

Asking permission does have pretty awesome benefits sometimes.

But there are those times that I confess I'd rather beg for forgiveness. It's just way easier.

On a separate note that is completely unrelated: My 1st grader and I had a lesson the other day (you know, the other day that was really 3 weeks ago haha) about punctuation. She knew the exclamation point, the period, and the question mark. She was even vaguely familiar with the apostrophe (and used it CORRECTLY without my help in a sentence she was writing! PROUD MAMA MOMENT). We also talked about commas in a series. Yes, I told her she has to have one before the "and". I'm Old School like that. Then, she asked me to teach her some math. Wrong person to ask about that! And then, maybe a week later, my nephew called and asked about when you use a comma after words like well, yes, etc. at the beginning of a sentence. Even though I had to look up the formal name for that to explain to him (he's in 4th grade and actually cares what it's called--but I think he really wanted to impress his teacher), I felt all important because he knew who to ask for the answer. Or maybe it was because he couldn't get in touch with my mom. I'll continue to believe it's because he knew I knew the answer. ;)

2 Comments:

  • Of course you knew the answer! Aren't you the one who corrected the love notes you got in fourth grade? As in returned them to the sender with grammatical corrections pointed out in red ink? I don't remember if it was fourth grade, but I still remember that story. That and the image of you as the drum major in high school. I realize I've spent time with you since then, and I do have other memories, but those images are linked with my memories of you.

    By Blogger Donna Sewell, at 10:52 AM  

  • Actually, it was 7th grade. And green ink ;) I think I said something in a writing assignment about it looking like an alien had died on his love note.

    And OMG on the drum major. I told my husband about that one, and he STILL won't let me live that down! haha

    By Blogger Jennifer, at 3:44 PM  

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