The Lost Art of Conversation

Why I can't make mom friends

This gem of a video was circulating on Facebook yesterday.  I watched it and found myself laughing hysterically.  But, at two points, I winced.  It hit a little too close to home.  Two items I will discuss (early movement/cloth diapers*), but not because I'm bragging or because I'm a "mompetitor".  It's because, well, um...and now, we return to the "socially retarded" postulate.

My parents taught me manners (not Emily Post level, but nicer than your average Joe), but didn't really teach me how to converse.  My father is an incredible social butterfly, able to engage in conversation with anyone about anything.  (As a child overhearing one of these conversations, I remember thinking that for a person who never watches football, he was surprisingly knowledgeable.)  My mother is more reserved.  I tend to be more like her.  When I'm comfortable, I'll morph into my father, jabbering about any subject.  When I'm new to a situation, I'm reserved and awkward.  I'm absolutely awful at small talk.

I know school are over-burdened, trying to get students to pass a high-stakes graduation tests, but there are some real world topics I think students would be better off learning.  Speech: to gain confidence in public situations and to practice not saying "um" and "like" every third word.  Budgeting and finance:  hey, it's math.  Manners and conversation: respect and social skills.  At Seton (long ago, far away), we had a week of fun classes between semesters called Mini-Course Week.  During this week, I learned how to make balloon animals (which actually proved to be useful-- who knew?), calligraphy, square-dancing, basic judo, and had some acting sessions.  One of the more popular courses was "You and Your Car" lead by Mr. Ralph.  What if schools around the nation adopted this?  Here's a golden opportunity to teach topics students would like (or really, really should) learn.  What if we produced well-rounded students instead of automatons?


*For the record, researchers in England have determined that it's a wash (no pun intended) between cloth and disposable diapers.  Six of one, half dozen of another.  Right now, I'm being super lazy and using disposables.  Why?  Three and a half years of washing diapers wears a girl out.  That, and I'm still regulating Flynn's Miralax input.  I'll spare you the details, but your imagination is spot on.