Role Model Essay

In our modern, media dictated, society there are often fallacies created about who the youth of today see as a role model. The adult populace have been led astray to believe that to us - the young generation - celebrities, athletes and musicians are who we consider our role models. Unfortunately, this has been spurred on through the interviewing of people who lack a basic understanding of the words “role model”. A role model is someone who has in some way altered you as a person, changing the route you take in life. While it is quite a possibility that a Hollywood rock-star could alter your life in some way, to say that they were the role model you see above all others is simply implausible. Family and friends are there throughout life, shaping your path and taking you on an unforgettable journey, without even realising it. It is only with hindsight that one is truly able to see the extraordinary influence that they put upon you. Of course, friends come and go but family remains by your side for eternity. For me, my parents and grandparents were most significant in making me the person who I am today, and as such, are those who I consider my role models. However, as the years progress, and we learn more of the world we live in, one begins to become aware of the flaws that these role models have, and how we view them significantly changes. Both sets of my grandparents were idyllic examples of the stereotypical grandparent image, however were both at completely other sides of the stereotype spectrum. My mother’s parents were kindly and warm-hearted. My gran, a short plump woman, adored baking and had an incredible talent of making friends with anyone auspicious enough to have met her. My grandpa, a wisecracking man, with numerous wise (and perhaps many more not so) tales of his youth – a protagonist if ever there was one. My other grandparents were essentially the exact opposite. My grandmother on my father’s side was a nervous, very shaky woman with a distaste for the young, and a short temper. My grandfather was a kind man, but again very strict. His knowledge was vast, even with the capability to recite several page long poems in German, that he learnt at school. He was dux of his school, and led a life of science. He rarely spoke of his youth and had rather protestant morals, but wasn’t a particularly nervous man – rather just keeping himself to himself. I care for both sets of my grandparents dearly, and although my overall perception of them may have

changed, the stereotypes they embody are still transfixed in my mind when I think of them. My Grandfather: [NAME] – a war veteran and ex member of the Alloa Bomar Pipe Band now inhabits the lugubrious waiting room that the elderly, ever so fondly, call home. Once upon a time he was some sort of omnipotent, omniscient being, but now his ever so vibrant mind, has faded with the mists of time. His fire in his eyes a mere ember – a memorial of what once was. To see him forget even the simplest of tasks allowed me to see him for who he truly was: a human. Someone who is capable of being brought down and weakened. A mere mortal. Fortunately, he was always one for reciting the same stories, over, and over, and over again. He was also one for having minor mishaps. I recall of two stories often told in the company of my family: The time my grandfather topped up his whiskey with gin instead of water, accidently – all night; or going to the wrong person’s wake, spending a night mourning over the loss of a stranger. Things like these were a common event in the [SURNAME] household, so in a way his metamorphosis was less visible, and so allowed for an easier transition for both us, and him. I also became aware of secrets locked in my grandfathers past. For one, I learnt of him being a member of the Free Masons. This was a great shock to me, as of course, my grandpa would never be a member of a secret organisation. Or could he? I also learnt that he and my gran broke up for a year, several decades ago, despite him to this day exclaiming that he and my gran “never had a serious fight”. One of the most important memories of my grandpa to me, was him singing hymns to me as a child, whilst I drifted to sleep (despite not being particularly religious). This has affected me in that it is such a warm memory that it reminds me of a time when life was simple, and such a small act could brighten a day. I feel as though it be my duty to have this warmness with any children I may have in the future. For as far back as I can recall, my grandfather meant a lot to me – to such an extent that my first word was “grandpa”. He influenced me in my childhood, giving me an intense patriotism and friendly nature, alas in hindsight I see that he is much more flawed in the same way every person is, than I originally had seen him as. My Gran: [NAME] was a gentle soul. Quick witted and bright, she was always one to rely on. As I have with my grandfather, I became aware of her mortality, seeing her more as a person, than an all knowing deity, when she died of cancer several years ago. She was the kind of woman that one would be led

to believe was invincible, incapable of death, and in a way, she is. She meant so much, to so many people all around the world. She had made friends with German, Dutch, French, American, Canadian, English, Irish and many more, all of whom paid their final respects to her. She was a woman of both many words and many actions. She spoilt her grandchildren dearly. Like a child feeding a dog under the table, she let us do whatever we pleased. Because of our respect for her, we never put a toe out of line, always polite and courteous, whilst still enjoying staying up passed our bed times, making pancakes and reading stories. She was a quick learner, being able to learn to handle a computer rather skilfully, even in old age. However, it did come to my attention that she could be rather judgemental, often talking harshly of foreigners, teenagers and those of different beliefs, or sexualities. This, of course, is simply a shadow of what was imbedded into the elderly since a young age. Perhaps, in some ways fortunately, although I doubt that is ever the correct word to use, I was not able to observe any other substantial negative aspects of her, before she passed away. My grandparents on my father’s side were perhaps less significant to me, as a youth. I saw them less often, and never felt a strong connection with them. As very strict, protestant people, there were no stories of them getting into mishaps, nor did we share any close moments – in fact, I doubt I can remember a time when I hugged either of them. However, as a young child, I remember them fondly, especially of them giving us books and a packet of Smarties™ whenever we visited. However, as I have become more aware of them it has come to my attention how strict they actually are. I was once told a story, of how my grannie refused to go to my mother’s first Christmas Dinner, because of reasons beyond my mother’s powers. When my mother gave birth to my sister, there was a power cut – only allowing one phone call, from the emergency hospital phone, to tell the grandparents of the good news. My mum phoned her mother, who then passed on the message to my Grannie [NAME]. Apparently, she did not approve of being told of her grandchild, from a 3rd party. This arrogant behaviour became an obvious flaw in the perfection of my grandparents. Their image of generousness (as shown by the example of the sweets and books we received) had also been altered. In one respect they are less so, only giving my sister twenty pounds for her twenty-first birthday. On the other hand, I have gained a great respect for them, in that they had given my parents several thousand pounds to pay my sister’s year admission to a school for children with disabilities, when she was 4. Of course, they have influenced

me considerably. In one respect, I have realised their flaws and so have steered away from making the same ones, but on the other, have took on many of their traits: a passion for science as well as a general politeness and seriousness. As my grandparents were, my parents too were rather stereotypical. My father was a very intelligent, hard working man. My mother was who largely dealt with looking after the children, as well as the domestic tasks. My father worked in England, only visiting once per month – and as such, our relationship was not one of great closeness as I was young. Rather interestingly, its true that the apple never falls far from the tree. Like my mother’s parents, she was a warm, gentle soul, with total intent to please her children. My father was a rather strict, nervous man but very intelligent. As time has passed, my relationships with my parents have altered significantly. My father: [NAME] was very influential for me. Although seeing little of him whilst young, I grow a strong attachment to him. Despite having an attachment to him, i did see him as the “bad cop” of my parents – being rather short tempered. This has changed as I have grown, largely due to, perhaps, an actual change in my father. I lack the understanding of what has perhaps made my father “loosen up”, but he has done, quite dramatically. Instead of being easily angered, grumpy and strict, he seems to have evolved into a much more caring, kind person. My father seems to have inherited his father’s intelligence. He has a strong knowledge base on any subject, and to this day I enjoy a long intellectual debate, over dinner. Since I was young I saw him as a person who knows everything about anything... someone totally omniscient, being able to answer any question brought to him. This of course, changed when I realised that of course, someone cannot be at this stature. One of the most memorable moments, although to some may seem insignificant, was the first time my father asked me for help on a computer – to do a rather mediocre task. My father studied computers in university, knew multiple programming languages, had a computer long before the average person had access to one. This shown me that not only he doesn’t know everything, but also that a lot of what he has learnt has become defunct from the sands of time. I also was told of how my father was kicked out of university, for the fact that he refused to study, choosing the preferred student lifestyle. This has given me a, rather irrational, respect for him. It has shown that he once had a laid back, sociable attitude and

lifestyle – making him more human, and so one to be able to relate to. These changes I have seen in him, allowed me to revaluate who he was as a person. My mother, [NAME], has always been an obvious role model of myself. Like her mum, she too is a kindly woman. Being the ying to my father’s yang, she was always the “good cop”. When I was young, I saw her as, simply, someone who I could rely on, to be there for me, and care for me. Fortunately, this perception still exists. When my parents had split, I was never actually told that they had done so. It was just assumed that they were no longer together. Although their split did not affect me in any considerable way, because I was never told of it I feel somewhat distanced from something that should have been a very big change in my life. In some ways this is fortunate, not resulting in any heartache for myself, alas because of this distancing I feel like I had been kept in the dark, being denied my right of knowledge. This changed my perspective of my mother, in that she prevented me from something important, and so ultimately, making a mistake. To see ones mother cry is to notice the weakness of them: the fact that they are mere humans, rather than the God that the small child perceives. During a celebration, my mother created a vast array of sublime dishes for us to indulge in. After completion, she placed the goods on the table, welcoming us to enter the dining room. As I entered the room, an almighty gasp was heard. A friend’s dog was upon the table, annihilating the once picturesque treasure that my mother had worked ever so hard, for several hours to complete. Within a moment, my mother broke down into tears, fleeing from the crime scene. To see my mother in such a state made me become aware of her fragility. Although the event was severely unfortunate, it allowed me to gain a greater respect for my mother, as I became fully aware of not the mother, but the person that she was. As we age, those who we see as our role models, whether it be grandparents or parents do not change. However, who we see them as, does. As a young child, these people we see as our role models are infallible. Of course, this is not the case. For every purity there is a flaw; for every correction, a mistake. What makes us human is not only our ability of executing mistakes, but also the realisation that we have made one. If we are not able to learn from example, we can learn from mistakes. But ultimately, by seeing someone’s good side or bad side in the spotlight a greater respect for them can be formed. I love

my parents and grandparents dearly, but how I see them now, differs greatly from what once was.