Mental age is - quite unlike chronological and physical - not an objective fact, but an impression one makes. At least that is very often how it is used.
Treat a physical adult - 15 or 28 or 43 - as having mentally the age of a child, obviously the person will suffer.
There was a time, when fathers with your temper would spank their daughter - and off the daughter went with first person any kind of resemblance with a knight in shining armour. And most state laws in your nation and some on our Old Continent quite allowed it. Earlier still all of them did.
But, the tragedy is about:
- a) legislation making it harder for daughters to marry,
- b) after taxes already made it harder for couples with stay-at-home mums to survive,
- c) with economy making it harder - ten or twenty times harder - for young people to get work.
- d) and, parallel: this damn psychological nonsense about being pædagogic. And about speculating about someone else's mental age while oneself in a state of anger and irritation.
After granny died I came in a position where I depended on social welfare.
Do you know how tiring it is to look for work after work when you are not a fat catch for employers?
Every week I had to show a list of one hundred works I had considered.
Looking seriously for a work is a tiring full time occupation, as bad as high school at age fifteen (which was also physically tiring).
So, from Sweden's third largest city, I got - after an interval tidying up police archives while two counties merged into one - a job in a small village.
Fair enough - if I had had a chance to do my teaching work.
Oldies in the village had been fighting against Franco.
I would, if I had lived back then, been writing or carrying wounded for Franco (he did not allow Swedes or Brits to actually fight if volunteering for him, he did not want to export the war).
So, I had learned the thing about the oldies after naively telling my future boss and his second in command about my stance. And as ma did geriatrics, I did not want to give oldies any heart attacks.
I was teaching Swedish and German. On beginners' levels, it is useful to give grammatic paradigms on a pretty systematic way from the start. Verbs are about the same in German and Swedish. It's like English except you do not have to worry about Continuous forms. Not even a distinction between Past Simple and Past Continuous like they have in Latin, French and Spanish (though past continuous is there as simple as past simple and therefore used also with habitual verbs, "yo amaba" meaning basically "I was loving", though it translates as "I loved"), but Nouns and Adjectives have four cases. Not one and a half, counting English and Swedish genitives as a half case, but four full cases, though with overlaps.
Fascist views on Spanish Civil War? Loves German grammar (I love grammar anyway, but that is another story)? Maybe a Nazi?
Fair enough if I had been a Nazi. I am and was not. Franco did not recommend aborting Jewish women or women expecting babies with Down's Syndrome - he did not recommend or even tolerate abortion at all. He made no ethnic cleansing either. He did not, unlike Hitler, outlaw home schooling. That doesn't mean he was forgiving to Communists, even after the War, but they had made themselves obnoxious by killing some 4000 priests on a low estimate (non-Franco estimate). Even so, fair enough if I had been stupid enough to tell anyone in that village. I was. I had told that employer, the principal, and that other man, Swedish title "studies' principal" or "curricular principal". As I just told you.
Oh, one thing more: I do believe a teacher has a legitimate place of command and that pupils voluntarily attending school ought to be prepared for physical correction. I made a huge mistake in applying that in a situation where pupils were so to say drafted into school, as per Swedish school obligation. As I believe now, noone ought to take work in such schools. And I made another mistake, namely doing that to have obedience for an order given by the principal which I was not even myself very eager about. How they sat.
Now it is one thing to commit a stupidity, but quite another to be stopped whatever I tried to do to correct it.
Of course, having physically punished someone for sitting the wrong way, I could very well allow a class to take seats on the floor, as a bright girl, anti-Nazi (which is good), anti-Fascist (which is understandable in that village), and a two teachers' daughter took the initiative for. Wonderful, a mistake correcting itself. Eroding my authority helped eroding that of a principal I did not even like.
I had not had a teachers exam, only the subject knowledge and my convictions about teaching before applying. So, even if I liked having that particular class sitting on the floor whenever they liked to, I could not pull it off as a pedagogic experiment. Plus the class where I had done the physical punishment was not as nice to me as that class. Plus the last grade, ninth, were cynic and caustic after having me as about tenth Swedish and German teacher in grades 7-9. Next term they helped to make it thirteen fourteen or something - at least three more.
Because next term I had no job. Well, at least it was only a month before I could get money from the union I had started paying to - back as an archivist helper at the police force. Not the teachers' union.
It would not have been fair enough, it would have been a very big and welcome break to do some looking for a job in a slower motion than before on that money.
Thunk they would let me get away with that? Uh-uh!
The "director of studies" (which I just called curricular principal), also the French-English colleague and the Gymnastics colleague were deeply into syndication. And they did not know I was already syndicated elsewhere from that other temporary job. If they did, they did not care, they thought I needed a lesson about syndication. And about work ethics, even although I had been neglecting my food, my reading outside school subjects, my writing except lesson preparations, and falling asleep at ten unless I did that when getting home to wake up for a tired hour or two around ten.
So they offered me a job. Not a real job, where I made a contract fully paid by the employer for as long as I agreed and as we both were happy with it. But a phony one. Half my pay was paid by employer, other half by social security - first month. Then he had to pay some more to pay half. Because I got the other half from the union I had been paying to. The job was a contract for exactly six months.
And at age close to 28, I was being treated as a child, because I had lost a job as a teacher. And because, obviously, in that village being a Fascist was not well seen. Even if I did keep it quiet in order not to make oldies die from heart attack. Even if they could regret having fought for the wrong side, which was not very foreseeable, to those who did not it would just have been unnecessary pain.
If you had a mother who did geriatrics well, you don't do that.
That secrecy about my politics and historic loyalties was of course not appreciated, but taken as cowardly behaviour of a Nazi too stupid to regret 6 million dead Jews and whatever the number of non-Jews (I had been involved in revisionist historians** at university too, and freemasons both back in and near Malmö and Lund, and up in that village knew that perfectly well and my discretion was no reason for them not to leak things behind my back, as for me a WW-II issue was very irrelevant to Spanish War anyway).
So, they thought they had a reason to "help me grow up". They acted accordingly. Including the boss at the cooperative, who was never unkind or inconsiderate himself, but was not either directly on top of me. Beside that coop he was also a principal at another one of these schools.
"What do they teach them at these schools?"
Well, it seems that although he did not stop others from appreciating me badly and roughly as an authoritarian, he was one himself in his school, and so he had some fatherly ternderness for me. Fat lot of good that did me then. Probably involves him having masonic contacts with the masons, maybe even - God give them the grace of repentance if so - among family on dad's side. I was not an authoritarian. I like an orderly classroom, by which I mean one where questions are asked as slowly as allows teacher to answer them and puils not asking them staying quiet while pupil asking or teacher answering is talking. But trying to teach pupils anything more than Grammar for German or Letters for Swedish, like "lessons for life", I was not their parent. So his tenderness as authoritarian teacher for a budding authoritarian, if only I could get way from the village after learning a valuable lesson for life (he was not my father and I was close to 28!) at that place was maybe a wee bit misplaced.
I did not stay all the six months.
Before I left, I had reseen his daughter. She was the class where I had used physical punishment once and where I had been physical about getting out an interruptive and caustic girl - not her but a comrade of her second cousin - more than once. I fell in love. She was close on 14.
This introduced me to another aspect of modern life than compulsory school and over use of pædagogic attitudes. Though in a way it is an extreme overuse of pædagogic attitudes itself. Shrinks. Making a long story short, that was in 1996, and on February 5th, Year of Our Lord three times the number of the beast, I used a Pistol to Teach Shrinks (and complying cops) a Lesson.*** I spent only two weeks in liberty after that, between two trials, that year. I came out in Year of Our Lord 2000.
Anyway, your daughter is no more deranged than you can help by starting not to treat her as a child. If you want her to look for jobs, maybe she could be put in positions where she could find them - like people not preferring trades of services to really paying people who clean their houses. Yes, she did that very fine, she made you admit the problem.
If you want your sons and daughters actually finding work not just looking for it to please your vanity about "responsibility" and "adulthood", you might stop hiring non-paid labour. And your daughter made you admit it.
Having the temper of a Jessica exasperated with a Shylockish Father - that would be you - she also had the wits of a Portia. As for her supposed insult about your persons when getting older, and your reaction, the one that was spontaneously mine, under a FB share was, in two comments:
... and he might be thankful if she made babies. When he is old.
I mean, if she does not want to change your diapers (yes, oldies do get to use such, some of them, and public funded geriatric care, as I observed in that village, treats oldies on a walk as runaway babies, but oldies with diapers to change as "oh, they are grown, they can take care of themselves while I have other work to do" (yes, it is undermanned, old age care in Sweden, and pensions are going down the sink because too few babies are made to keep funding going).
In case you would like to take the final, good step of Shylock, and become a Christian, take a look at Saint Paul first:
And you, fathers, provoke not your children to anger; but bring them up in the discipline and correction of the Lord.
Fathers, provoke not your children to indignation, lest they be discouraged.
Ephesians 6:4/Colossians 3:21
My mother saved my life twice by obeying that. In a society where many so-called Christians judaise (Protestants, Freemasons, Modernists), she paid heavily. Shrinks destroyed even more of her life than they did of mine.
Library of Paris
Y o o L 2012
*http://o-x.fr/suwhi and video on http://o-x.fr/ngz0o.
**Now we have laws where brave men who raise that question can go to prison or be fined heavily.