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Empirical review on parenting styles
Parenting styles across different cultures
Parenting styles across different cultures
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Growing up, my parents were very tradition in the aspect that they had favored my first brother because he was the eldest son even though I was the oldest of all the children. My mother used to lecture me, as early as age 4 or 5, that I needed to learn how to sweep the floor, wipe the table, and start learning how to wash the dishes because one day, I was going to get married and needed to know how to do all those things. I hated it and never put in any effort when I was doing my chores because I would have much rather be outside playing with my brothers and the neighborhood kids. Once I entered my teenage years, I was expected to come straight home after school and cook for the family before starting on my homework. After I started college
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that every teen should be able to decide when they want to do chores and what chores we want to do that day. In order to do so, parents/guardians should take this into consideration and allow the teens to do as they wish. It is the right of the teens to abolish the control the parents have over chores and establish their independence. We have to pick up messes that are not ours and if it isn’t cleaned up we are the ones getting in trouble. We have homework to finish after school or during the weekend so sometimes we have no time to clean. We are also in extracurriculars, such as sports or activities. We have to do more chores than some people in the
Growing up with a mentally ill, schizophrenic mother, I have experienced homelessness. Time to time spent under bypasses, abandoned buildings and eating food from trash bins. My mother often left me to fend for myself at a young age when emotions are beginning to bloom. Growing up like that I did not receive the correct education. The loss of hope feeling came when I moved into my first foster home thinking to myself these aren't my parents. Going to my very first school, not having proper vocabulary nor not really knowing how to speak without stuttering, first thing I did was run, run away from the school and ran away from foster family to only be walking the same streets my mom wondered at night, (not soliciting like her). As I grew older my options were limited. I chose not to be like my mentally Ill, jobless, drug addicted mother. I will be
I had my very first child very early on in my life I was only 16 when I delivered my first child I had a lot of growing up to do. how as a mother am I going to manage going to school and be able to be a mother. I had figured try my hardest to stay in school. I had my older sister watch my child while attending high school but of course I needed to get a job to provide clothing diapers and other stuff that a baby needed at the time. I considered getting a job as a waitress which I knew was going to take a lot of time from school and my son at the time. Johnnie an hour that had a set dance for all the employee’s now summer im getting to save money and provide for what little I was making at the time, i started
March 28 2012 at 5:00 pm I was in the hospital for five and a half hours. It had that disgusting hospital smell. I hate the smell. I was with my sister, my cousin Ellie, my aunt, and mom . The reason I was at the hospital was my aunt Jackie was in labor. I was so excited. She was the going to be my first girl cousin and the first cousin on my mom's side.
Being the oldest child in the family, I was expected to be a role model to my younger siblings. It was a challenge and is still a challenge. I can still remember the moment when my ELL teacher came into my classroom and asked me if I wanted to skip second grade and head onto third grade. Without any hesitation I accepted the offer, I knew I was behind and wanted to catch up. One of the
My socialization while growing up had everything to do with my parents. In my household I didn’t have just one certain style of parenting. My mother was a permissive parent, and my father was very much an authoritative dad. This was able to happen because my father travels a lot of the time and is out of the house, therefore giving me the chance take advantage of my mom being so much of a push over. When my father was gone on business I could get away with anything such as not cleaning my room, staying up as late as I wanted, and receiving anything I wanted. If my Mom did not giving in to my requests I would just throw a simple temper tantrum and five minutes later victory would be mine. On the other hand when my dad was around everything was to be done his way. If he didn’t think I needed it, I did not get it, no matter how much complaining and whining. In my Dads mind I had to deserve everything I received, if I did something wrong couple days earlier he would remind me about it as I was asking for a bike or what ever else it is I wanted. Don’t get me wrong my dad wasn’t a mean guy or an abusive father, I knew my limits and when every I would get dumb enough to cross that line, he was right there to put back in my place.
When I was in the 3rd grade i had a dilemma which was I had to go to a foster home. I was put in a foster home at the age of 7. I remember if it was just yesterday. I have a little memoir of the event. I had to go to a foster home while my mum went to a parenting class just to get me back home.
Until I was eight I had lived in a trailer home with a deck built by my grandfather and uncles. It was always lively and filled with family. Aside from my three sisters, I had different sets of cousins who stayed for anywhere from months to years at a time. The house was never empty and something was always going on. We were always big on parties like many islanders are. We would have to greet all our aunties and uncles with hugs and kisses, keep our cousins entertained, and clean up afterwards. In a way this taught me to always take care of family. They’d last all night and we’d have food for days, but it was carefree and felt internal. Growing up back then it was like the time of my life, it’s like there was never a time where I felt alone. Growing up with so much support and encouragement to do any and every thing was a big reason why I have confidence in myself to do whatever I get involved in. Being raised in the trailer park, although it might not sound the greatest, was probably the best part of growing up for me.
Being raised in a small town lower classed city called Cleveland Texas, my goal was to make it out of the rural area. The blue house is what I called my childhood home, even though most of the blue paint was chipped off and you mostly seen wood with a few areas of chipped blue paint. Before, getting to the house you had to go about a half mile down a red dirt clay road before getting to what looked like a small blue shake. Living in the home was a total of ten people, which included myself, mother, father, three siblings and three older cousins that stayed with us at the time. There were three small bedroom that did not include any type of closet, a full sized bed, and two dressers with a small TV with the fat back attached to it. It also had
He walks out in this black suit and some white shoes everyone screams. There is so many pictures he walks in he comes back out with another suit on everyone screams. There is more people walking in (whispering) how is this happening to me. He looks at his mom and said I have so many fans.
“The world is full of inequalities. Don’t believe me? Just go look in the movies.”
Growing up with two older brothers taught me to be unselfish, patient, and respectful. Being the youngest of three, I learned I would not always get what I wanted. I would have to be patient and wait my turn for a lot of things, such as the telephone and bathroom. I was glad that I was able to grow up with siblings to teach me these lifelong lessons. All three of us had to be respectful of each other or we would risk getting in trouble with my parents.
On a warm July morning in Florence, South Carolina, I feel the summer rays upon my face as I load the rest of my belongings in my mother’s red Kia. I haven’t left my parent’s house yet and I already felt bottom pit feeling in my stomach, the feeling of already being homesick. Finally, I am moving from my nest and I open up my wings to begin my journey to a pathway on finding a name for myself.
I could almost taste the scent of the humid summer air on a bright, early afternoon. The day was hot, and mosquitoes flew here and there, collecting deep, red droplets on which to feed. I could hear the fanfare of cicadas welcoming us. My family and I were all exhausted, having just arrived from a long, unforgettable plane ride. My dad’s hands gripped my own as we approached the gate that separated us from our destination. This was my first visit to my parents’ homeland, Vietnam.We were greeted by my paternal grandmother and shown in to take a small tour around the house where we would be staying. While walking inside, I first noticed a kitchen, then I took a right entryway into a living room. North of the living room was a dining room with a large window covered with silky off-white colored curtains.
I learned at an early age that chores a necessary and being a part of the household meant that you had to pitch and do your part; this is no different than being part of a study group for a school project or designing a group presentation for a marketing firm. Teaching proficient work ethic at a young age can give children the skills necessary to excel in school and during their career as an adult. My father made sure that I knew the importance of getting your work done and getting it done right. During the summer my father would sometimes take me to work with him so I could pick up trash and scrap wood or aluminum. Once we were finished we would go over to the local recycling center and my father would sell all of the aluminum that we had collected. He would give me the money and make sure to tell me what a great job I had done and that he was so proud of me; those words meant more to me than any amount of money. In Jane Smileys (2009) essay, The Case against Chores, she states, “To me, what this teaches the child is the lesson of alienated labor; not to love the work but to get it over with; not to feel pride in one’s contribution but to feel resentment at the waste of one’s time.” (p. 274) Children learn from our attitudes; if our attitude towards work is