No Such Thing as “Just Words” By Maryssa Dennis (Names changed.) My English teacher said that our assigned book had vulgar content. Even though I was afraid of standing out, I knew that I could not read it. I sat in my desk, waiting for class to begin. The bell rang, and my teacher quieted the room. “Good morning,” said Mr. Olsen. “Today is our introduction of the next book we’re going to read. Before we begin, I must warn you: this book contains profanity and graphic content. However, since this is an advanced English course, I’m sure you are all mature enough to handle it.” I froze. My stomach clenched. I looked around the room. Everyone seemed completely unfazed by this announcement. What was I going to do? My parents would never allow me to read a book like this. But it would be so humiliating to ask Mr. Olsen for a substitute book. Especially because he was the scariest teacher I’d ever had. Not to mention that I would look like a big baby to my classmates. Maybe I should just keep this to myself. After all, I wasn’t a kid anymore. I should be able to make my own decisions. Why was it such a big deal anyway? I heard vulgar things every day in the hallway. But even the thought made me feel uneasy. I knew that I had to tell my parents. To my embarrassment, my dad set up a meeting with Mr. Olsen for the next morning before school. I walked into English that day with my head ducked down, avoiding eye contact with Mr. Olsen for the whole class period. When class ended, Mr. Olsen asked me to stay behind. “Your dad came to talk to me today,” he said. “He said that he doesn’t want you reading the assigned book. So I’ve assigned you another one instead.” I almost sighed in relief. “Thank you,” I said. I couldn’t believe it was that easy. I took a step back to leave. But Mr. Olsen wasn’t finished. “I respect his decision,” he said. “But, as I tried to explain to him, they’re just words. They don’t mean anything. So they shouldn’t offend you.” He paused. “You know, in college, you won’t have a choice. You can’t avoid it forever. How are you going to keep yourself from hearing it in public?” I didn’t know what to say. The next few weeks were hard for me. I was the only person in my whole grade who wasn’t reading the assigned book. Even my Latter-day Saint friends were reading the regular book. I worked alone while my classmates shot me strange looks. I felt lonely and wondered if being such a goody two-shoes was worth it.
Over time, it got easier. I realized how important it was to stand up for what was right, even if I was standing alone. The experience strengthened my resolve to keep my thoughts and my language pure even when others didn’t think it was important. Although I didn’t know how to respond to Mr. Olsen when he questioned me, I developed my own personal reasons for avoiding inappropriate media, and I gained a greater appreciation for the Lord’s standards. As Latter-day Saints, we avoid vulgarity not because we are oversensitive but as a matter of principle. People say that foul language doesn’t mean anything, that they are “just words,” but I wonder if they realize the impact that “just words” can have. They can strengthen and uplift. They can belittle and deride. They can inspire change or incite violence. No words leave us unaffected. The language we see, hear, and speak impacts our spirits whether for good or bad. It’s true that I cannot always protect myself from profanity. I can’t help but hear it in the streets or on the bus, but I will not knowingly and purposefully expose myself to filth. I cannot keep all of it out, but I will not welcome it in. Lao Tzu once said, “Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.” If I hear vulgarity and do not seek to purge it from my mind, if I let it resurface frequently in the pool of my thoughts, how easy would it be for it to sidle from my brain to my tongue? And when I’ve said it once, how easy would it be for me to utter it a second time? A third? How easy would it be for it to slip into my regular vocabulary? And how would that further influence my thoughts and language? My mind would be a place where filth resides and even breeds. Would it change the way I dress? The way I act? The people I spend my time with? I don’t want to find out. I won’t risk it. I will not let obscenity corrupt my cleanliness and poison my purity. Because my integrity is worth more than a four-letter word.
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