Out of all the articles in the October issue of Teen Ink, there’s one that really changed my perspective: it was “Profanity in Teen Ink”. Not because of how there were so many cusses, but because of how for the first time in perhaps my life I’ve respected someone my age who swears that much. I remember once in fifth grade I couldn’t bring my favorite audiobook, the Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, to share with the class because it contained a few tame cuss words. I was so annoyed because almost every kid in my grade had heard these words a hundred times over, and said them even more. Lunch in any school is such a golden opportunity for shouting profanities that you’d have to be deaf to not learn a few. However, teachers insist we don’t bring in material with the slightest swear. What’s sad is it’s not for the good of the students, but for the overprotective parents that threaten to tarnish the school’s reputation with lawsuits. Even sadder is how ignorant those parents can be about what goes on at lunchtime. When you think of the country with the most insane censorship, you’d probably think of Soviet Russia. However, nowadays it’s probably America, because we excessively censor all the wrong things. If someone gets shot in the chest and dies, it’s not uncommon for the movie to stay PG-13. However, if someone has sex, it’s almost a guaranteed ticket to R. Many Americans will have sex in one way or another in their lives. How many Americans shoot people in the chest and kill them?
Nowadays, with the popularity of the internet and the lunchtime conditions of middle and high school, it’s impossible to keep kids from knowing what they want to know. What’s important isn’t that you keep your kids from knowing cusses, but that you ensure they don’t use them inappropriately. I think I am a living example of that kind of attitude: It was my strict policy not to become the swearing buffoons my classmates will remain. I have never once dropped the f-bomb, and the first time I said crap (completely on accident), I started running about the house screaming that I didn’t deserve to live. While I don’t do that nearly as much now, I still live true to those principles. If I fall down the stairs, it feels good to let out a damn or two. Especially since I don’t say it every other sentence.