Two Dirty Words I Should Never Use

I've been wanting to do a column on the way kids spout profanities these days, but have held off because I think I'm becoming too Andy Rooney-like in my ranting and raving these days. It is a subject that really galls me because I hate profanity. I hate going to movies because I don't want to pay to hear people curse.
But, a recent news story in the Richmond Times Dispatch motivated me to go ahead and write about it. The story is totally baffling to me. It seems the principal at Ecoff Elementary School, JoAnn Crowell-Redd, got so fed up with the kids cursing that she called all the students into the auditorium and gave them a lecture. The only problem is, she used the words she didn't want to hear in her lecture. I'm wondering if George Carlin wrote the speech for her.
Now, is it just me, or is this the epitome of ignorance? What's wrong with so-called intelligent people. Would anyone in his or her right mind think it would be appropriate, for whatever reason, to recite a litany of curse words to a bunch of six-year-olders?
Even if you think it's appropriate, you might want to consider the fact that a number of parents are just looking for something to complain about. I mean, did this woman think the kids didn't know which words that they had been using were the dirty ones?
I guess that could possibly be true. I had a personal experience when I was eight years old that I think is germain to the subject. I was in the fifth grade in Mrs. Gruver's class at Boones Mill Elementary School. This country school covered grades one through nine, which means there were students attending the school who ranged, in age, from six years on up to about twenty-one years (and I'm not kidding).
Now, Mrs. Gruver's husband was the school princial. They were a very religious couple. In fact, he was also a Methodist minister. Mrs. Gruver talked to our class about the dirty words that were written on the bathroom walls. I don't know what she was doing in the boy's restroom, but I don't want to worry my pretty head with that concern right now.
Anyway, Mrs. Gruver said that since we were fifth graders, we were right in the middle. She said the older boys were the ones writing dirty words on a wall (remind me that I want to do a column on the stupidty of grafiti, sometime). She asked us to keep our eyes open for bathroom-wall profanity and to let her husband know, so that the words could be cleaned off before any first- or second-graders saw them.
I loved being the protector, the enforcer, the Terminator, if you will. So, the next time I was in the restroom, I scoured the walls (visually, not physically), hoping to find some words I could report to the principal.
And, boy did I hit paydirt. I saw two words that, while I didn't know what they meant, sure sounded dirty. I have since learned that one of those words was the million dollar four-letter word. You know the worst one...the one they won't even use on NYPD Blue.
So, I headed off to the principal's office and asked the secretary if I could see Mr. Gruver. "What do you want to see him for," I was asked.
"I want to tell him about some dirty words," I said politely and innocently. Evidently, this was a regular part of Mr. Gruver's day, so I was ushered right in.
"Mr. Gruver," I said, "I saw two words on the bathroom wall that I think might be dirty."
Mr. Gruver, who was perhaps the meekest little mousy man I ever knew, didn't say anything. I took his silence to mean "tell me the words."
So, I did. "They are '*#%%&' and '^/$*," I said.
I'll never forget the look on Mr. Groover's face, which had immediately turned beet red. Just like in the cartoons, the redness started at his weak little chin and spread up to and covered his shiny bald head.
Mr. Gruver trembled, nodded, and gulped. I could tell I'd really said something horrible. "They're dirty, alright," he squeaked out. I turned and headed out the door as quickly as I could. I don't think I ever understood the power of words as clearly before that day. In fact, the whole event is so traumatic, I've never been able to say those two words since then.
Maybe that's why I hate profanity so much. I was scared and scarred by that emotional event.
So, maybe Mrs. Crowell-Redd (and, remind me, I want to do a column on hypenated names, sometime) did need to tell the kids what words are dirty. I just hope she didn't use those two words. And, if she did, I'm just glad Mr. Gruver was not around to hear her.