Pet Peeve: College students are not children

<p>please, oh please, tell me there are no PC terms to use in describing one’s children. Last I checked, H and I are parents and S and D are our children. When someone asks my 84 year old mother how many children she has, should she say “none, but I have 5 grown adult offspring.”</p>

<p>Good grief! OP needs to find something else to get annoyed by…</p>

<p>My thought? Chill.</p>

<p>“When “child” is used by a parent, it’s a designation of order/progeny rather than a designation of age or development. Parents, by definition, have children.”</p>

<p>True. I’m wondering what the OP would prefer, “My offspring?” Sounds rather cold to me. </p>

<p>I agree that it would be nice if there were a word for adult offspring, but until that occurs, we’re stuck with “My kids,” “My children…”</p>

<p>Well, I’ve told my kids–oops, sorry, my progeny and other people’s students-- that they are my old age support. Will that do?</p>

<p>Our deficient language just doesn’t provide a suitable gender-neutral term for “my child who is not an adult.”</p>

<p>I noticed that my parents never referred to my sister and me as “my children” after we were grown, but they didn’t have to. They could say “my daughters,” which implies nothing about age. But I have one offspring of each gender. What else can I call them when I speak about them collectively besides “my children.”</p>

<p>Besides, all this pales into insignificnce compared to the contortions gone through by sixtysomethings and seventysomethings who are trying to refer to the people they are dating. “My girlfriend” and “my boyfriend” just don’t sound right when they’re gray-haired and collecting Social Security.</p>

<p>Is it because I’m from the south? I frequently call my kids “baby”, “baby doll”, “sweetheart”, “sweetie” (to their face!). As in, “What would you like for breakfast, Babydoll?” </p>

<p>I find myself calling my students “sweetie” and “sweetheart” a lot. (Never baby or babydoll though.) </p>

<p>Here’s an interesting conundrum- when watching baseball (hs, college, or pro), I mutter “c’mon baby” or “c’mon baby doll” to refer to the players. </p>

<p>My female friends are all “girlfriend”. Male friends are simply “friend”.</p>

<p>Sometimes I refer to my kids as “children” but more often “kids”. I have heard people who get offended by “kids”. (As if they are goats!)</p>

<p>When I am speaking in writing to the parents of my students, I always refer to their children as “your students”.</p>

<p>My grandmother taught me that at “kid” was a baby goat and I’ve never been able to use the word colloquially since. My ear also finds it a diminishing term, another reason to avoid it. Otoh, child = relationship, not development. Check.</p>

<p>Though on CC I generally find a way to structure the sentence to say “student.”</p>

<p>And then, there are cultures where husbands and wives with children refer to each other as “father of the children” or “mother of the children.”</p>

<p>I have to say I was always amysed by letters from teachers to parents referring to “your student.” I always wanted to say: “no, he’s my son and YOUR student.”</p>

<p>Still my mom’s child here.</p>

<p>Another thought–I call my friends “girls,” but they are all middle-aged women
like me. (Somehow “I’m going out with the girls tonight” sounds like a lot more fun than “I’m meeting with a group of mature and responsible middle-aged women.”)</p>

<p>H is a southerner and always called his parents Mama and Daddy.</p>

<p>Gee-- I haven’t thought about this one! I guess I haven’t referred to those adult and almost-adult females that I gave birth to a while back as “children”…usually I refer to them as “the girls”… I think of “college kids” and “high school kids”… I must admit that when my college-bound D called this past weekend to say hi from her month-long trip to Germany, it warmed my heart for her to start the conversation, “Hi Mommy!” They’ll always be my babies, even though they both tower over me and neither have been able to wear my shoes since they were in 4th or 5th grade.</p>

<p>I don’t think my kids/children care that much about how we refer to them.
However, S2 dislikes the ‘stupid’ middle name we gave him, and wants to change it when he reaches 18. Wonder what he’ll choose instead?</p>

<p>And I agree with Marian re: the use of “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” for mature adults. There must be something better.</p>

<p>I would consider my son a member of a tribe (calmom’s post #4), but more along the lines of a tribe of 19-year old twits.<br>
I refer to my children/kids/ankle biters in politically correct terms:</p>

<p>Genetically Related American </p>

<p>Recipient of Parental Asset Infusion</p>

<p>Residentially Flexible Houseguest</p>

<p>Rectal-Cranially Inverted Progeny</p>

<p>Uniquely Fortuned Individual On An Alternative Career Path</p>

<p>Fruit of My Loins</p>

<p><a href=“Temporarily%20Misplaced%20Prose%20from%20GetAmused.com”>i</a>* :D</p>

<p>sluggy,
Nice list. As an aside, at one point in time, the terms “mom” and “dad” seemed to have fallen out of my and my friends vernacular. We referred to them as “Parental units”. Fortunately, that “phase” quickly passed. </p>

<p>Any of you read this book <a href=“http://www.amazon.com/Love-You-Forever-Robert-Munsch/dp/0920668372[/url]”>http://www.amazon.com/Love-You-Forever-Robert-Munsch/dp/0920668372&lt;/a&gt; to your “offspring” when they were small? Remember the theme/repeated verse

Thats just the way it is…</p>

<p>Now as for the geriatric “boyfriend” “girlfriend” term… Many older adults seem to just use the term “friend”. I think I like that better.</p>

<p>jym wrote:</p>

<p>< Now as for the geriatric “boyfriend” “girlfriend” term… Many older adults seem to just use the term “friend”. I think I like that better.></p>

<p>“Main squeeze” works. So does “she who must be obeyed”.</p>

<p>Great list sluggy.</p>

<p>jym: I said that “love you forever…” phrase to both S and D from the time they were born until they finally told me to give it a rest (around age 11, I think). </p>

<p>sluggy: how about “tax deduction” or “tax credit”.</p>

<p>Re: “Love You Forever.”</p>

<p>When my first ankle-biter was born, I read to him every day. We developed a bedtime ritual of reading storybooks in his rocking chair, which evolved during his baby- and toddlerhood into lullabies, stories, and word games inspired by the storybooks. Good times.</p>

<p>Very recently he became the father of a baby girl. Not long after, I heard about “Love You.” I thought, How perfect! This is our story! As a new grandmother determined to endow grand-daughter with enough books to rival the legendary Royal Library of Alexandria, guess which book I included in the first shipment?</p>

<p>Never having read it together ourselves, and curious to see how he reacted to the storyline which mirrors so closely his own childhood nighttime ritual, I couldn’t wait to ask how he liked reading the book to his own child. “Well,” he admitted, “I had a hard time with the story. I kept changing the plot so it was a father reading to his daughter, but then I’d realize that wasn’t working so I’d change it back again.” You did make it to the end, though, right? “Yeah, but by that time I couldn’t remember who was reading what.” Good times. (So much for sentiment.) </p>

<p>I do love that book. :)</p>

<p>I’ve heard the phrase “adult child” or “adult children” used a few times. But in my opinion, you’re a kid until you stop calling your parents to get yourself out of messes that you got yourself into. (Which I realize can last into middle age, but still.)</p>

<p>

Thanks. I’m going to suggest it to he who must obey. Saves typing strokes from Dear She Who is the Center of My Universe and Reason for Living on e-mails.</p>

<p>

I really enjoyed Parenthood…thank you for reminding me.</p>

<p>My mother is 86 and still refers to her brood as her “children” or “kids”. Having carried me for almost ten months and finally getting her petite body to produce my squirmy ten pound one, she can call me anything she wants for as long as she cares to.</p>

<p>I hope my daughter has enough humor to chuckle when I slip and refer to her as my “kid”…just as I chuckle when she calls her father and me by our first names.</p>