What would you be if you could be anything?

I never liked science fiction as a kid or teen.  I clearly remember reading To Your Scattered Bodies Go by Philip Jose Farmer in either 9th or 10th grade and just thinking it was weird.  Of course, it did make an impact because I remember the premise of the novel to this day.

I think D has had a big impact on my increased interest in science fiction.  He is a true sci/fi nut and tends to read it exclusively (along with fantasy).  I read most of the Dune series after he and I watched the miniseries in 2000.  It is certainly not the primary genre I read, as evidenced by my Goodreads list, but the ones I have read, like Dune, stick with me--- Old Man's War by John Scalzi, Time Machine by H. G. Wells, Children of Men by P.D. James.

Some 15 years ago, a student recommended Ender's Game to me, and I loved the entire series.  I have gone on to read and like (as much as you can like) dystopian novels, which are closely aligned with sci/fi.

My latent interest in sci/fi is probably more expressed in terms of the films I love, like Inception and now Interstellar.  We watched this last weekend, and I'm still thinking about it.  Thinking about time and the various dimensions our brains cannot perceive.  Wondering whether in another dimension we can move time so that we don't think of it as chronological.  There cannot be a "this happened first" if time can move any which way.

I love thinking about all the questions that we cannot understand, about time, about space, about what our brains perceive that we don't recognize.

Last night I heard an interview with Jason Padgett who suffered a traumatic brain injury which left him able to see the geometry in everything (it also left him with debilitating OCD, which I also found interesting).  I have his book, Struck by Genius, on reserve at the local library and almost cannot contain my excitement to read it.  Listening to him talk was fascinating.

If I could be anything at all in the world, I would be an astrophysicist.  I rarely think of myself as having grand designs for any of my children, but I admit there is a secret part of me that hopes G (the most existential/mathy/geeky of the bunch at this juncture) will go along some kind of physicist route.

I have no natural talent in this regard.  I despised geometry in high school and flunked my final, but I wish I did have a better understanding of it.  D watched a TED talk recently about black holes, and though I was in the kitchen and attempting to cook dinner (therefore only half listening), I enjoyed what I did hear.  I like that fuzzy, kind of exhausted feeling in my brain that happens when I begin thinking about time and space.

Yesterday, as part of some professional development I did for the cottage school, I took a multiple intelligences test for myself.  I scored highest in Verbal (shocking!), Intrapersonal (also a bit shocking), and Naturalistic.  My lowest scores were Musical, Interpersonal and Visual.

My highest scores put me equally "balanced" in terms of analytic, interactive and introspective (for whatever that's worth).  It reaffirmed that I should probably be doing what I'm doing---being a writer and a Language Arts teacher.

But it also made me think of how cool it would be to be something completely different.  

My yearbook ad to N

Parents were able to place an ad in the yearbook for their 5th grader.  I can't remember how much the different sizes cost, but I opted for the smallest one because 1.) I'm cheap and 2.) my child doesn't need a shrine.

Even with selecting the smallest, I had trouble coming up with what to say.

I'm not particularly good at praising my children, at telling them I'm proud of them.  I think I take after my dad in this regard, which is sorta maddening because as a kid I wondered why he wasn't proud of me.  He was always very proud of me, I think, but perhaps he feels like I do....that I don't want my kids to think they are better than others, to think they are so great they don't need to work hard.  I don't want my kids to be cocky turds, which I think can happen when a kid hears how amazing they are all.the.time.

My dad sent me flowers when I was inducted into the National Honor Society in high school. He wrote the card. When dad writes something, it is important to him; he really means it.  I still have that card.

So this is what N's ad looks like:

Even though I blather on in this blog, I opt for simplicity in the public sphere.

When she brought her yearbook home, and I read some of the other parents' ads, I wondered if the lack of flowery compliments bothered her, if she read some of the other ads and questioned whether her parents think she is beautiful and smart and amazing and delightful and every other MadLib adjective you can include.

I do think she is all those things, but I don't need and/or want everybody and their grandmomma to know it.  Because when I see parents do that stuff (in yearbooks or on Facebook or in person), I roll my eyes and think to myself, "Well, whoop-de-do!  Isn't your child just so special."  Especially if they are the parents that do it once a week.

I know my child is special to me.  I don't expect anyone else to think she is special, and I don't expect anyone besides her grandmothers to want to listen to me carry on about her awesomeness.  Which I don't.....not even to her grandmothers.

There are some people who can write things about their children and sound sincere.  Some people come off as braggy.  I take the self-deprecating route, and where that is not appropriate (like a yearbook ad for one's 5th grader), I choose modesty. 

A post about literature, teaching, religion, frustration, and philosophical parenting differences

I put a lot of time, effort and energy into selecting books for my cottage school students.  They have to be classics, first of all.  I check Sonlight, a homeschooling curriculum to see if it uses these texts.  I check Common Sense Media to see what it says.  I run it by the directors of the cottage school.

Originally, I had suggested Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck for my freshmen/sophomore English class.  What would an American Literature class be if it didn't include Steinbeck, the Nobel Prize Winner in Literature in 1962?  One of the directors said she would prefer The Grapes of Wrath, which was fine by me.

I read it and planned lessons around it.  Of all the books I've taught in the cottage school these two years, this is one of the most Jesus-y ones.  The whole book is strewn with biblical allusions and demands that readers consider how Jesus treated the poor, the destitute, the uneducated, the "unsavories" and, therefore, how we should treat these people.  All of my journaling questions are asking students to consider what Steinbeck is suggesting about how society treats these people.  I never, ever in a zillion years thought parents would find it problematic because it is very much Christian in terms of content.

But a couple did and do have problems with the book, and they complained, asking if I could select an alternative book for their kids.

I have many and mixed feelings about this.

On one hand, it makes me angry.  We posted this year's reading list in May 2014, so parents have had months and months to research, read, investigate.  I suspect some of their anger is not with me or the directors but with themselves for not being as diligent as they want to be.  It also makes me angry because I have already done all the planning, and asking me to select another book when I've already begun teaching The Grapes of Wrath is asking me to do more work without any warning, without any extra pay, and honestly, without any guarantee that they wouldn't take issue with another book, another classic, I selected.

I am also frustrated because while I respect the parents' choice on what their children read, it makes it difficult for me to teach a novel if 2 out of 5 students aren't reading the book.  I feel I am doing a disservice to the students who are reading the book if I tiptoe around topics because some parents object to the book.

(I am not, however, nor would I, nor did I ever intend to discuss masturbation in class, which one parent thought I might do. Apparently, there is a reference to masturbation in the novel, which I don't even remember.)

I am also sad because I work really, really hard to make my classes challenging, appealing and about finding morals, meaning, and God within secular texts.  Even if the parents are unhappy with the book and not me personally because I am teaching the book it makes me feel like they are unhappy with me.

On the other hand, I can understand the parents' dilemma.  I personally think that by the time a kid is in high school, parents should be allowing them certain freedoms, and one of the biggest and safest, in my opinion, is the freedom to read widely.  However, if the parent is not doing this, then reading The Grapes of Wrath probably does feel like sending their kids into a den of iniquity.  There is profanity, there are allusions to sexuality, there is violence.

I shelter my own children so I get it. We do not watch television news of any kind, but we do get the newspaper.  I am ok with my children reading about world events, many of which are cruel and scary, but I am not okay with the sensationalized spin and constant repetition that televised news media puts on the cruel and scary.

Even though I am frustrated, I am trying to look at this situation as a learning experience for me.  I am finding that there are groups of parents who claim they want their children to read classics but haven't read the classics themselves and really have a much narrower view of what constitutes a classic than I do (and what the College Board does and what virtually any university in the country has).

In order for a book to be a classic, it has to be many things.  It has to be extremely authentic to the time-frame about which it is written and be chock full of themes and concerns that can resonate with readers forever.  In order for something to resonate it is often controversial.  There has to be something there with which people can relate, can grapple.

There is a segment of homeschooling families who hold very tightly to this idea from Phillipians 4:8:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

They do not want their children reading content that is unGodly.  I have heard people say they only want their children to read things that "strengthen the heart, mind and soul toward Spiritual thinking."

At its essence, I do not disagree with them.  I, too, want my children to read things that strengthen their hearts and minds, feeds their souls, and help them to be the kind of loving people who live compassionately with the Golden Rule guiding them.

But I can think of few things that could strengthen a person's heart, mind and soul toward spiritual thinking than a novel that struggles in its entirety, although indirectly through symbolism and theme, with what Jesus would make of the 1930s Depression and treatment of Okies and others who traveled to California seeking work, many of whom starved to death due to economic and environmental forces beyond their control.

If I try to emulate a Jesus who ate with tax-collectors and forgave prostitutes, who was revolutionary in his thinking that the poor and unsavory have dignity and value, then I feel there is much that is honorable, commendable and excellent in reading classics like The Grapes of Wrath.

Even if it has profanity or sexual reference or violence.  The novel, whether we find it distasteful, is true.  People are profane, are sexual, are violent.  It is a fact of living in this world.

It is funny that this debate hasn't anything to do with Jesus or God but in how widely or narrowly people read Jesus/God and the Bible.

Finally, and perhaps the cherry on top of this whole cake, is that in this particular case it has resulted in one group of people questioning how good or bad of Christians other groups of people are because of their book selections.

Now this doesn't bother me personally.  I was raised Catholic and consider myself a Catholic-in-recovery even though I attend and participate in a Christian church.  I don't really care if someone thinks I'm not a certain kind of Christian because I've never claimed to be a certain kind of Christian.
But it bothers me that people I like and trust who try to be good, kind thoughtful Christians are getting their feelings hurt by other Christians who seem to be suggesting that selecting these type of readings makes one a crappy Christian.  It seems rather un-Christ-like to me.

As I mull over and muddle through all this, I am constantly wondering, "What would Jesus think of all this rigamarole and what would he think of The Grapes of Wrath?"

This is science

Today has been a true stay-at-home day, which is something I both need and hate.

A day of not running any errands tends to be very productive, as I get all sorts of little things of little consequence to anyone else done (like putting EOBs in the healthcare binder or scrubbing the drains).  But around mid-day, I also start to go a little bonkers, especially since M begins to tire.  At four years old, though, he is tired enough to be whiney and needy, but not tired enough to actually nap.

I am long past being the stay-at-home mom who tries with great abandon to "do things" with my child.  With N, I was forever doing projects that would stimulate her brain.....arts, crafts, playing grocery store with her fake food.  I was smug about how she didn't really need preschool because we did lots of things at home to help her learn.  And that was true, even if it was smug.

Child #3 needs preschool.  I have never taught M his letters, numbers, done arts and crafts or anything with any pre-planning or sincere concentration.  There is too much laundry and cooking and other stuff to do.  When I feed him marshmallows (which the first child didn't eat until she was 6 or something), I do ask him to count them, so I'm not completely useless.

I did have a moment, though, today when I realized that me being a mostly preoccupied stay-at-home mom on my true stay-at-home days is not such a bad thing.  I don't need to go all Pinterest-y on myself  and be the same kind of mom I was when I just had a singleton.

As I was piddling around, M grabbed his dinosaur and bug toys, parked himself at the dining room window and started playing in the sunshine.  He called me over to look at their shadows, a game he plays regularly.  I watch and give him suggestions on how if he turns the figure this way and that way, its shadow looks bigger, longer, more detailed, etc.

This is preschool science.
He is learning.
I am hanging back, watching him, moving between what I have to do and being present with him for the few minutes that my brain can stand it before I get bored with this preschool fun.

And that is good enough.