Is It Just Me? – Sorry is the Lamest Word
“I’m sorry.”
For what?
“For doing that bad thing.”
Which was what??
“Whatever you said it was.”
You don’t know, do you???
“Not specifically.”
And, you’re really not sorry, are you?
“I don’t want to be grounded.”
So, you’ll say anything.
“Pretty much.”
Have you had a variation of the above conversation? Cohabitating with a swaggering, self-righteous adolescent, the rare apologies you hear are mostly spoken to avoid unwanted consequences and devoid of heartfelt regret.
When did “sorry “become meaningless? I remember the Parker Brothers’ board game, Sorry! When you rolled the dice and bumped another player off their square, you were allowed to yell, “Sahhhhhh-reeeeeee” with jovial impunity. You weren’t so much requesting forgiveness as celebrating getting ahead by sacrificing somebody else’s standing. There was no remorse involved.
These days, “sorry” is abused and even over-used on a daily basis. Like any proud Canadian, I am eager to offer up unwarranted apologies . . . to complete strangers. If I had a nickel for every time I said “I’m sorry” when someone stepped on my toe, my children’s educations would be prepaid by a decade.
My teenaged son Charlie continually misuses the word. It’s never part of an apology. I believe that he is aurally challenged, maybe because he only cleans his ears when I remember to nag him, but probably because he is always thinking about something else. My voice is on the periphery of Charlie’s listening landscape unless it is broadcasting the word, “Dinner”. Consequently, when I ask Charlie a question I am often met with, “Sorry?”
“Have you finished your homework?”
Sorry?
“Why did you leave an empty bag of cookies in the cupboard?”
Sorry?
My choices are to either repeat myself or abandon the whole dialogue. I know he hopes for the latter. Hundreds of times I have admonished Charlie to stop apologizing and start listening. Say “pardon” if you didn’t hear me. Save the “s” word for when I’m sitting in the dentist’s chair in the throes of a root canal and you call to say that you forgot your saxophone at home and you “so need it” for a music test in an hour. That’s the perfect situation in which to say “sorry” – you can even add a “really” in front.
A few years ago, when Charlie was ten, I shared my displeasure over the fact that he’d left the chocolate chip ice cream out on the counter overnight.
“My bad”, said my son.
I leaned in to his space. “Your what?”
“My bad” he repeated. “You know, ‘Oops! Sorry!’ It’s how kids say they goofed up.”
Really? For years, I had been led to believe that “bad” had come to mean “good” in our modern lexicon, but apparently, if it is my bad, it really is bad. The burning question is: my bad what? My bad hair day? If what you mean is, “I’m sorry, I made a mistake”, why not simply say so?
Many times, kids I know (no names mentioned, let’s just say, I know them so well it’s as if I gave birth to them) have altercations at school. Sometimes, these situations result in verbal or physical brawls and students end up in the principal’s office, hearts pounding in their heads, wondering if their parents will be phoned and making silent deals with invisible forces to prevent that from happening. Often, the principal, after reiterating the school’s policy on name-calling and hitting, stands up to end the meeting and asks the kids to shake hands and apologize to each other.
Because they can sense a clean getaway, and because an adult who has the power to totally screw up their lives is making the request, the kids face each other from under hooded eyelids, extend sweaty, limp hands to shake and mumble, “sorry”. Everyone in that room hears the insincerity. Outside the office, maybe one kid smirks. Maybe one gives the other the finger. They certainly aren’t destined for a love-in.
The message is “sorry” means nothing except a “Get out of Jail Free” card.
I remember, as a child, sometimes feeling wrongly accused by one of my parents. Even when it came to light that I hadn’t done whatever the bad thing was, I didn’t receive an apology. I never outwardly lobbied for one. My parents were fair most of the time and I was respectful all of the time. If they mistakenly accused me of some crime for which I was later expunged, I simply welcomed the return to normal. Still, I always felt a little bit unseen during those moments.
Even in our current age, when parents and educators are allegedly hell-bent upon treating children with the utmost respect and regard, apologies are seldom proffered by adults to kids. Elton John wrote that “sorry seems to be the hardest word”. He is an oracle for our time.
The truth is that felt apologies are difficult to render. They leave us vulnerable because owning mistakes is akin to admitting that we are not the perfect children, parents, friends or teachers that we aspire to be.
But, it’s worth considering that instead of teaching our children how to play act in a civilized manner, we should teach them tolerance. Instead of telling them what words to use, we should model integrity. That might mean occasionally admitting to our kids, “I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
During the first Passover seder, Charlie had an allergic reaction to one of the desserts. After tea and a hot shower, he proceeded to throw up all over our bathroom, shunning the toilet. Any performance artist would have been proud. I became incensed, complaining loudly the whole time I cleaned up the huge mess. I was not compassionate. I was not philosophical. I was nasty.
The next morning, with both trepidation and resolve, I apologized to him for my rant.
“I knew you’d feel sorry, Mom”, he smiled, “but it’s still nice to hear you say so.”
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