China Girl, China Mom

Last night I received an e-mail from a father who was going to talk seriously with his daughter, again, about whether she wanted to continue with piano lessons.  She had been putting up a fight at practice time, he reported, and he was tired of trying to force the issue.  If she didn't want to do the work, he declared, he certainly couldn't force her to.

Later that evening, on the recommendation of a very different father, I read this in the Wall Street Journal:

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up.

[later:]

Western parents worry a lot about their children's self-esteem. But as a parent, one of the worst things you can do for your child's self-esteem is to let them give up. On the flip side, there's nothing better for building confidence than learning you can do something you thought you couldn't.

That excerpt is probably the least controversial part of the article.  The author also claims that her daughters were "never" allowed to watch television or attend sleepovers and gives a horrifying account of a piano practice session that nearly tore the family apart but ended, unfathomably, in cuddles and laughter.  I certainly can't endorse the full gamut of her technique, which I think depends on a forceful personality and the cultural underpinnings that support and accompany it.  But I have to say, I admire the (courage?  foolishness?) it took to air those beliefs in a forum that has already crucified her for them, 3000+ negative comments strong.

I Wished to Live Deliberately

One of my friends is trying to quit smoking.  He was successful for about six weeks, until work stresses convinced him to have one after a tough day.  Then he got a coupon in the mail for a free pack.  A free pack?!

"And now," he said, between drags a couple of days ago, "Here I am again."

It's an old story, the story of addiction.  In a way, it's foreign to me; I haven't had turns with cigarettes or alcohol the way "real" addicts have.  But in another way, I do understand.  I have known the grip of a desire that overtakes reason and routine, transcending even itself to become a monster that gobbles up time, money and energy, leaving disappointment and emptiness in its wake.  In fact, I see it almost as a foible that my own weaknessess have never spiralled into something I couldn't control after a bit of a struggle.  If I were addicted, I mean really addicted, I'd be able to get help.  As it is, I'm able to convince myself on a regular basis that things aren't that bad.

Take technology, for instance.  I just read this inspiring article about a group of Oregonian high school students who, led by their teacher, embarked on a weeklong technology fast:

On the third day, the 20 students in one period shared varying responses to the assignment.

"I feel really anxious because I don't know if I'm missing something important," Amanda Schenberger said. "I keep thinking, 'I can't wait for this to end because I need to check my e-mail.' How many Facebook notifications am I going to have after this?"

But others reported benefits. Ashley Marcy talked about driving with the radio off.

"I've driven the route to school a million times, but I noticed so much more," she said.

Robert Paige said when his parents aren't home, he usually turns on the TV and all the lights for comfort. This week, he had to find other things to do.

"I just kind of sat and thought," he said. "I was thinking a lot about where we're going with the world ... about technology and what impact it has on society."

What an idea, to sit and think.  I do it probably more than most people my age, but not nearly enough for myself.  I sense it in the panicky, crushing feeling that builds throughout the work week, while I'm bouncing from class to activity to assignment.  By Friday I am snapping at students, answering colleagues and clients through clenched teeth.  When I have time to think, I can re-order my priorities, recall my passions (both the good and bad sort) and live deliberately, the way Thoreau wanted to: "I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."  The "it" was the woods, for him, but for me it is simply the task in front of me.  To sit and think.

But thoughtful living is not possible if I can't keep myself from the screens that surround and seduce me, moment by moment, every hour of the day.  As I said, it's not an addiction, not exactly, but it is . . . disordered.  As my time slips away into oblivion, and in the face of a plethora of others' opinions and experiences, my own fears and insecurities grow.  I hope that Sharon's new challenge, both glib and inspiring in its ambition, will help turn me back into a thinking person, a patient person.  Or, alternatively, that it fails so miserably I have to actually seek help.

FA392235-A412-2531-B21E-E85011855177

1.03.01

Is Smoking Sinful?

Talk about a loaded question.  It's one about which I've often wondered, being a lifelong Christian and an occasional smoker.

Yes, it's bad for you.  So is eating at McDonald's.  And if done in moderation, it's probably even less bad for you than McDonald's, especially if you're smoking anything other than unfiltered tobacco cigarettes.

Society has certainly demonized it, and as a borderline libertarian (who voted for Obama -- hey, at this point I might as well alienate all of my readers) I tend to come down hard on the other side.  I think secondhand smoke is largely a myth.  I certainly think bars, restaurants and other private businesses should be able to decide for themselves whether to allow smoking on the premises. But that's all politics and personal freedom, and the Church doesn't care much for either.

My good friend Pastor Toby Sumpter recently posted about this issue, and I have to say, it's one of the most thoughtful and balanced perspectives I've ever read on the subject.  He primarily addresses the students of his parish and school, but then broadens his argument to include all of us:

If 9 out of 10 of your elders, pastors, and teachers would frown at it, why do it? Aren't we called to love? And love not only covers multitudes of sins, it looks for ways to die for others. Ordinarily, in our culture, cigarettes are self-serving and the only other people thankful for your indulgence are your friends who also know deep down (or not so deep down) that dad would really not be pleased with this. Is that love?

I'm still not sure what I think.  But it's a pretty compelling argument: Christianity is about sacrificing for others, not doing what we want and forcing them into acceptance.  St. Paul, in 1 Corinthians: "But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumbling-block to them that are weak." (8:9)  Just as interesting is the question of whether it's morally wrong for a non-Christian to smoke for similar reasons -- his own autonomy versus the pain and distress inflicted on those he loves.  Some people quit lifelong habits out of deference to their parents or spouses, and I'd like to think it's not just because the nagging wore them down.

Anyone want to jump in with their two cents?  You thought I'd never ask?

Becoming Transparent

Two weeks ago I made a list of all the non-Lenten food in our fridge, freezer and pantry: meat, fish, cheese, eggs, cream.  Then I turned the list into menus: bacon-wrapped turkey breast, stuffed with wild mushrooms; creamy, spicy, delicious, awful Buffalo chicken dip (ditch the chicken crackers and go for Fritos -- trust me); Puttanesca with fresh Parmesan and salty anchovies; and Rob's died-and-gone-to-heaven favorite, homemade macaroni and cheese.  As we ticked off the days during our long vacation (which continues now into tomorrow, due to yet another impending storm) I spent even more time than usual thinking about food -- which, for those of you who know me personally, is quite an accomplishment.

The thing is, it started to get old.  The period between the Advent and Lenten fasts is short; shorter this year than I can ever remember, in fact.  So we habitually cram in dinners and parties from Christmas until Clean Monday.  I think we took the cake (pun very much intended) with a party that ended just before Forgiveness Vespers last night, when we welcomed twenty friends for champagne, chocolate tarts, blini with caviar and lox and artichoke dip.  It was a perfect afternoon to cap a season of feasting.  But as much as I love to think and talk about recipes and ingredients (even a great book or movie takes a distant back seat to a great meal, especially one enjoyed in the company of family and friends) I saw the balance tipping in favor of self-indulgence.  I was itching for some boundaries to keep me honest.

It might be an American thing, the tendency to overdo it and the desire to reign sovereign over many options, but I think it's more plainly a human thing.  Thoreau wrote, "We do not ride the railroad; it rides upon us."  He said it in 1854, but today, when we have so much at our fingertips, we are even more fooled into believing we actually control it all.

So today it was actually a great relief to not eat except a very little -- a salad, a piece of fruit -- and to spend time thinking, praying, bringing my body back into submission.  Even the thought of seven whole weeks without animal products seemed comforting, a journey of simplicity marked by the occasional dinner out (Southeast Asian, probably) or a much-appreciated glass of wine on a Sunday afternoon.  We are scaling back with our bodies as we throw the weight of our souls into the struggle -- held up by prayers, confessions, the most beautiful hymns and the communal supper, the Eucharist, which we share with all creation.  Fr. George Calciu once told our congregation that fasting makes us transparent.  Not necessarily thinner (it's not a diet) but lighter, clearer, more focused.  Our faults are laid bare, but so are our strengths; so is the beauty of the image of God within each of us.

This will be my thirteenth Lent, and I'm only starting to realize what a blessing this time of abstinence is.  May it be fruitful for all of us.

The PC Bandwagon

I promised more, so here it is:

I'm a practical person, and I'm also pretty old-fashioned when it comes to teaching.  As a student, I demand a lot of myself.  My grades have always been high.  As a teacher, I demand a lot of my students.  I don't like excuses.  I don't like whining.  And I really don't like entitlement.

The first night of class, my professor told us she thought teachers shouldn't be required to take tests to be certified.  ("Some people don't do well on tests.")  I asked, how would she recommend we determine whether a teacher is fit for a teaching job?  She mentioned Problem-Based Learning, which, once explained, sounded an awful lot like a test under a different name.

Another time, she told us we should never require a student to read aloud.  ("Only choose the ones who volunteer.  Some students can't read aloud, and it embarrasses them to try.")  How, I asked, were they ever going to learn how if they didn't practice?  Easy: I was supposed to tutor them outside of class, call their parents, lobby for an IEP and oversee the whole thing during, you know, my free time.

Even after these two experiences, I was unprepared for the Crowning Jewel of Political Correctness: ELL / ESL students.  These are immigrant children who don't speak English well.  Here are some of the tips we received during class:

• Learn a little bit of the students' native languages so you can converse with them.


• Allow the students to answer during class in their native language.


• Add the works of artists, writers and scientists from their native cultures to your curriculum.


• If they stop participating in your class, don't push them.  Allow them to integrate at their own rate.


• Put flashcards around the room with vocabulary words in English and their native languages.


• Allow students to be assessed in their native languages, or to select assessments in their strongest area.

As I typed the notes, I could feel my color rising.  One thought came back to me repeatedly: ELLs are going to be the next Prize Disability.  Already, parents are rushing to get their children diagnosed with ADD so they can have preferential treatment on tests and in class.  (And yes, it absolutely is preferential: they are seated in the front of the room, checked up on with regularity, and generally coddled by the administration, who knows their parents will protest if the concessions cease. God help these children when they go to their first board meeting and declare their need for a Notes Buddy!)  The students who really do suffer from learning disabilities are done a disservice, too: cynical teachers (myself included) and resentful students make life difficult for them, and in many cases, such as a private school like mine, we simply don't have the resources to give them the help they need.  It's a real mess.

And now we have another oppressed minority to handle with kid gloves.  I'm sure all those suggestions are great ones, but they amount to tutoring, not teaching.  It is preposterous to expect a teacher to learn another language for the benefit of a handful of students, and it is equally preposterous to allow the student to dictate the terms of his own education.  Like I said, I'm old-fashioned.  Let the teachers teach.  Let the students learn.  Abraham Lincoln taught himself to read by candlelight.  Joe Louis proved a black man could be an American icon.  Barriers will fall only if we face them without fear and without whining.

Okay, tell me I'm an insensitive jerk.  Seriously.  Am I wrong?

The Speech

You knew it was coming . . .

For those of you who are living in the "dens and caves of the earth," the President made a speech today addressing schoolchildren everywhere.  Here is the whole thing in three quick soundbites:

"At the end of the day, the circumstances of your life -- what you look like, where you come from, how much money you have, what you've got going on at home -- none of that is an excuse for neglecting your homework or having a bad attitude in school.  That's no excuse for talking back to your teacher or cutting class or dropping out of school.  There is no excuse for not trying."

Amen.

"The truth is, being successful is hard. You won't love every subject that you study.  You won't click with every teacher that you have.  Not every homework assignment will seem completely relevant to your life right at this minute, and you won't necessarily succeed in everything the first time you try it.  That's okay.  Some of the most successful people in the world are the ones who have had the most failures."

Preach it!

"If you get into trouble, that doesn't mean you're a troublemaker; it means you need to try harder to act right.  If you get a bad grade, that doesn't mean you're stupid; it just means you need to spend more time studying.  No one's born being good at all things; you become good at things through hard work."

THAT'S what I'm talkin' about.  No excuses.  This was the most parent-like speech I've ever heard him give, and I mean it in a good way.  Yes, there were a lot of cliches, but we've been awfully heavy on cliches from the other side (You're Perfect Just the Way You Are and other taglines of complacency) for a long time.  It's good to hear someone advocate for hard work and struggle.

It's almost hard to believe that there were parents out there (lots of them; many of them at our school) who wanted permission for their kids to AVOID watching this address.  No, please, whatever you do, don't let my children listen to the President!  They might learn something about bipartisanship or self-sacrifice!  Yikes.

My only criticism was political: I thought he was about to mention the Suzuki Triangle (teacher, parent, student) but he stretched it into a quadrilateral with the addition of the government as a fourth corner.  I definitely don't agree with this, but I am a recovering Republican, and it was only for a moment that I rolled my eyes before continuing to listen to and enjoy what was overwhelmingly a positive and (dare I say it?) conservative set of remarks.

Score one for tough teachers everywhere!

Old Students, New Tricks

Here's a kid who is suing Amazon for "eating his homework."  When they deleted 1984 off his Kindle, due to copyright violations, they rendered his notes unusable.  So he says.

It's obviously a punitive lawsuit; if he took good notes, he'll be able to apply them to a hard copy of the book without too much trouble.  (It is my experience that students don't know how to take notes, however, so if I were his teacher I'd lord that over him incessantly.)

Teachable moments notwithstanding, I support the lawsuit.  It couldn't have happened with a more fitting piece of literature, either: 1984 is all about the demise of personal freedoms in the name of safety and security.  It's frightening, though not surprising, that Amazon can (and did) delete files from devices they sold free and clear to consumers.  What if Apple did that? I might not even be able to finish this po

A Sheltered Life

It occurred to me, after my diatribe about teenage drinking, that I had come out pretty strongly against the sheltered life.  So I'd like to share a counter-anecdote:

Last year one of my Creative Writing students came to me with a proposal for a poetry slam.  I said it sounded like a good idea, but she would have to plan it.  She did, and it was fantastic.  The day of the slam, the vice principal called me into her office and said, "I assume you've been approving all the submissions for the poetry slam?  There will be parents there, and I want to make sure everything is school-appropriate."

Jeez.  No.  Hadn't thought of that.  I called a hurried conference just before the slam and leafed through the pages.  One poem had a line about making out with a boyfriend and smoking cigarettes, and while this is certainly tame by HBO standards, we're a very conservative school.  I asked the student if she would tame it down a little.  "But I don't want to," she said.  Ah, youth.

I tried again: "Angie, there are nuns here."  There were.  Immediately she asked if we could get them to approve it, and relieved to be free of the burden, I said, "Sure!"

She turned to one of the religion teachers, who was nearby.  "Mrs. Lowe said this poem wasn't appropriate to read around nuns."  Well, I guess I technically did.  The sister was very gracious and said that although she didn't necessarily agree with the actions in the poem, it was Angie's "reality" and therefore acceptable in a poetry reading.

I'd felt bad about the way things happened, so quickly and without forethought, so later I sought the sister out to apologize.  "Oh, I wasn't offended," she said.  "But I do think there's a problem with saying something's not appropriate just because of who's present.  Either it's appropriate, or it's not."

I've heard this argument before about movies: if you won't let your kids watch it, you shouldn't watch it either.  And I agree with it, to a point.  Yes, there's some stuff out there that's inappropriate to say, think, do or even watch in the presence of any human being.  But there's also room for maturity: I have been known to let fly a chosen swear word for purposes of humor and / or drama, but I would certainly never do so in church, or in front of my grandmother.  And in turn, I am honored when people refuse to repeat a dirty joke or show a graphic film in my presence. To me, it connotes respect: "You're too good for that."  There was a time when this applied to all women, not just nuns, and it's too bad that time has passed.

American Parents: Ruining Lives since 1607

Articles like this are so melodramatic, they make me want to set myself on fire!

For those of you who are too lazy to read the link, the gist of the story is that in the new Harry Potter movie, there are a lot of drinking scenes.  As in, the kids are at a party where butterbeer is being served.  Or they're sipping mead.  And Harry purposely gets two of his professors drunk in order to extract needed information from them.

First, let's attack talk about the American drinking age.  It's a common argument, but that doesn't negate its logic: at 18, you can legally drive a car, fly a plane, buy a shotgun, have consensual . . . children with another adult, and die for your country in the armed services.  But you can't have a beer.  Sorry.  No other first-world country has a drinking age as high as ours, and only three others have one over 18.  If you look at it that way, these kids (who are under supervision most of the time) are completely within their rights.

Second, as the article points out, butterbeer is never really explained in the books.  It may be somewhat alcoholic (she mentiones that house-elves can't take as much as humans) but everyone drinks it, and no negative consequences ensue.  People, this is how we should be teaching our children about alcohol.  If we have no positive examples to offer them, they will learn the negative ones.

Third, I wonder whether copious amounts of alcohol would result in more state secrets than waterboarding?  It worked on Professor Slughorn.  And I don't think it constitutes "cruel and unusual," unless the alcohol in question was light beer.  Just wondering.

Why I Voted for Our President

Happy Inauguration Day!  Our school announced it would be closed just last week, so we get to stay home (second quarter grades were still due in by noon, though -- gotta love online grading, where you're always accountable.)

I watched every major speech Obama gave during his long, slow rise to power, but I didn't see any of them live.  I just never happened to be free then, or near a TV (we don't own one.)  Today I was planning to go to my parents' to watch; but when I checked the NYTimes website, it had a live feed that was quite clear and streamed through with very few hiccups.  It also had the advantage of being QUIET.  The only things I heard are things I would have heard if I had actually been there: cheering, music, polite applause, and of course the words of those on the stage.  I can only imagine how annoying it must have been to have commentators rattling off statistics about Michelle's dress and Cheney's medication levels.

As a registered Republican and someone who identifies more with the Libertarian Party than just about any other, I thought I would take a moment to defend my vote, which I cast proudly for our new President.

My reasons, in order from least to greatest, are below:

• Protest. I voted for Bush twice.  I felt he and the Republican party behaved completely contrary to the principles of CONSERVatism.  They didn't conserve anything -- money, resources or energy.  They spent just as wastefully as Democrats do.  So, I figured, a Democrat couldn't possibly be worse!  And I enjoyed thinking about my name in the category of "Republicans who voted for Obama."  I sincerely hope my party takes the next eight years to regroup and emerges stronger and more conservative than ever, and if they do, my vote will be back in their camp.

• The speech. He gave many great ones, but I'm speaking of the speech he gave after all that nonsense about Jeremiah Wright.  I was moved to tears several times, and for me, it was the antidote to the night I walked out of "Crash," also in tears, and thought, "Our country will never move past racism.  Never."  To hear him speak honestly and frankly about the demons in his past, on both sides of the black-white divide and beyond, was freeing, and from that moment I began to believe that with his help, we could actually heal and move forward.

• My bishop. I was in an agony of indecision for several weeks after Obama won the nomination.  Could I really cast a vote for someone who was more pro-abortion than any candidate in history?  In the end, though, my bishop settled the question for me when he reminded us all that there is no perfect candidate, nor no "right" candidate for Christians, and that we should choose whomever we thought would be the better leader for our country.

• Jed Bartlet. My friend Terry refers to The West Wing as "soft porn for liberals." Set in the Clinton era, it told of a president who couldn't have resembled Clinton less: principled, devout, loyal to his family and in love with his wife, cool-headed but prone to righteous indignation at only the most appropriate times.  My sister owns all 7 seasons on DVD, and as she finished one I'd borrow it and stay up all night watching the fast-paced dialogue move through crisis after crisis.  After Season 1, I started telling my friends that if Jed Bartlet ever ran for president, I'd vote for him.  Although I disagreed with him on just about every policy, I reasoned, he was a good man.  That would be enough.  A good man could do a lot.

I didn't go downtown today because, to be honest, I feared for my life between the weather and the crowds.  But now, I really wish I had gone.  At least I was one of the 8 million people who were there in spirit, basking in the cool glow of computer screens.