Chapter 22 #2
“The reality is different. Parents tend to mold their children to suit their own needs, without taking into account the child's personality and disposition.
They burden them with tasks and expectations, and when a child behaves like a child, they get to know the limits of their parents' patience.
For some, it's lessons, for others, it's tantrums, for yet others, it's a slap in the face or even severe physical abuse, with which parents hope to discipline their child.”
I looked up, glanced around the room before placing my notebook on one of the tables and slowly, with trembling hands, rolled up my sleeves. Even Zach lost his superior smile when I raised my arms and presented my wrists.
They all stared.
“With this, I can go to the police and report my father.”
The fact that he was somewhere in this building sent a shiver down my spine.
Davian had gone pale, which almost broke my train of thought, so I lowered my arms and pushed my sleeves back down.
I placed my hand on my chest.
“But what about all those who are verbally cornered by their parents? What about those whose guardians hammer loud, violent, destructive words into their heads until they become their reality? Where do those who have to cower in corners crying until their parents finally stop tearing them apart from the inside find justice?”
I lowered my hand and let my gaze wander through the silent rows.
“No one can see their scars, but they are there. I have these scars, and they run deeper than any physical scar anyone could leave on my body!”
I realized that I was getting louder, that I was dragging out my introduction too much.
They were all hanging on my every word, and I asked myself how I could make myself so vulnerable in front of all these people, just like that.
Maybe because I had nothing left to lose?
“Miss Veritas. The introduction is already exceeding the time limit.”
With this reminder, the teaching assistant handed out the topics for the next two debaters, and I took a moment to collect myself under the students’ stares.
A glance at my bloody thumbs made me press my lips together.
Everything about me screamed nervousness.
After two more students had received their topics, I began to list my arguments.
“Emotional abuse can cause long-term psychological damage comparable to physical abuse or even worse. Harsher penalties could deter parents and better protect children.”
The examples I had chosen for each argument were poor, yet they all hung on my every word, as if waiting for me to reveal more about the origin of my violet bracelets. I would let their hope die of thirst.
“While physical and sexual violence are prosecuted, emotional abuse is often underestimated, downplayed, and normalized. Strict penalties could lead to society addressing the issue more and discussing it in schools.”
All the while, I avoided Davian's stare, aware that he had seen the four new scars from up close. Instead, I clung to my messy notes, looking at the page far too often without really reading what was there, just to have a new anchor point.
“Stricter laws would force parents to address their children's emotional needs in order to actively prevent abuse.”
That was more of a hope I had already buried, because this legal system would never change anything.
“Victims suffer the consequences of emotional abuse throughout their lives, and some who never had the chance to process it will continue their parents' cycle and, unaware that there is another way, subject their children to the same ordeal.”
“Miss Veritas. Your time is up,” the student assistant announced.
Fuck. I hadn't finished listing all my arguments, let alone begun the concluding part. And with that, I was the first.
Nodding, I stepped back, aware that everyone was staring at me as if they hadn't expected me to express myself so enthusiastically. None of them knew that this was the only topic that would trigger this inner rage in me.
Playing Mr. Ganz
Carlos Rafael Rivera
Zach stepped forward and, with confidence in his expression, let his index cards disappear behind his back.
“In a world full of violence, it would resemble mockery to equate the suffering of those who bear serious marks on their bodies with the suffering of oversensitive children who have been pampered with a delicate hand and cry loudly just because their parents have used the last means at their disposal, namely their words and their authoritarian power, to enforce consequences,” Zach began his speech, looking at me.
“What Miss Veritas just demonstrated to you are the consequences of a permissive upbringing, in which a spoiled child has obviously overstepped the boundaries of a generous parental home, leaving the parents with no other choice but to take tougher action.”
Excuse me?!
Davian wanted to say something, but Zach quickly continued.
“And we all know it. Who hasn't experienced their father's firm hand?” Some of my fellow students laughed and nodded.
“The anger that parents rightly vent on us when we take advantage of their generosity. In retrospect, we learn from it, understand at a certain point that our parents meant well, and if we really have a problem with them, we can decide to go our separate ways when we come of age.”
I looked at Davian, whose jaw was working. He was still pale as a ghost, ran his fingers through his hair, and when he noticed me watching him, something apologetic returned to his expression.
My hands clenched into fists.
“It is the child's responsibility to learn how best to avoid conflict with their parents.”
“It is not!” I interrupted him.
Now everyone was looking at me, because I was also the first to interrupt his opponent during the introductory speech.
Lucas raised both eyebrows and the student assistant looked at Davian with irritation, as if he didn’t know whether to interrupt me.
Zach didn’t pay much attention to me and continued, which made Lucas grin.
“Parents are people who would sacrifice their lives for their children. They are the people a child can rely on. They are the ones who will always provide shelter. So is it too much to ask that we allow parents to be human beings who are occasionally overcome by anger and worry? They know what they are doing. They have life experience.”
Unanimous nods. And this was just the introduction.
Zach continued with an introduction about children who didn't know their limits and grew up to be disrespectful, irresponsible, and stunted adults because their parents hadn't shown them how life worked, thereby pulling me back down to earth, before he began his well-structured argument.
He backed up all the arguments he listed – while looking at his index cards only four times – with quotes from legal texts, without ever straying off topic. On top of that, he spoke for just four minutes and was already on his ninth argument.
“Emotional abuse, unlike physical abuse, is difficult to prove. Harsher penalties could lead to unjustified convictions or misuse of the legal system. And where would we end up if every other person filed a lawsuit just because their mother forbade them from playing video games?”
The entire lecture hall laughed, even though Zach barely showed any emotion.
This example was ridiculous. What he was doing was downplaying an issue that was already socially belittled, just to win a debate.
“Stricter penalties could lead to the law interfering excessively in private family matters, which would contribute to the breakdown of dynamic family structures rather than improving the situation. And do we really want to tear families apart, so that more children end up in foster care, which is not necessarily a better solution?”
Oh, how I would have loved to end up in a foster home, even though I could never have left my mother. She hadn’t even wanted to send me to a boarding school, and would probably have broken down much earlier.
“Educational measures are a more sensible alternative than legal ones, although I think even a mediator would be a rather excessive measure. After all, animals in the wild don’t have mediators either.
They grab their young by the scruff of the neck or put them in their place in some other way, because otherwise, these young would not learn to survive and would be eaten by the next wild animal or run over by cars. ”
What the...
Zach's arguments gradually turned into gray area arguments that distracted from the actual problem, but he presented them with such a matter-of-factness and countless well-chosen examples that the entire lecture hall partially fell into unanimous nodding.
“I think we all agree when it comes to prosecuting sex offenders and people who repeatedly beat their children.”
The hall nodded again.
“And that is precisely why we must not shift the focus from victims of such misery to actions who cannot even be proven. After all, where do you draw the line between strict parenting and emotional abuse? And why is strict parenting so widely condemned? How are children supposed to learn that they have made a mistake?”
My patience ran out.
A Different Story
Paul Leonard-Morgan
Zach used up the time I had to argue back, and I couldn't tolerate that any longer if I didn't want all these students to leave the lecture hall afterwards and, thanks to Zach's convincing argumentation sprint, never think about this topic again.
“Through someone who takes the time to take them by their hand and patiently explain to them how the world works,” I interrupted him.
He wanted to continue, but not this time, Zach.
“Through someone who takes into account that children have unfiltered emotions, desires, and needs that interfere with the learning process of life and that they must first learn to deal with, in addition to everything else that life throws at them.
Children don't learn all that if you teach them from an early age that their inner lives and feelings are trivial.”
Zach wanted to open his mouth, but I wasn't finished yet.