I’d Be Nothing If I Didn’t Have Books

I put the first one of Facebook already, but the second one is just as good so I thought they deserved an entire blog.  Just in case someone in the world has missed them.

These have gone viral.  Big surprise.  Half the world realises how much we depend on books for education and escapism.  The other half just doesn’t know what they’re missing.  But someday, I’ll get to that other half, and they, too, will threaten to kill someone who endangers their favourite childhood book. And then they’ll start writing books, and the whole world can just cuddle up together with an enormous, world-sized pot of tea and read books together.

That’ll fix all the problems with Stephen Harper.  (I don’t know that it’ll do anything about Rob Ford, though: he may be a lost cause.)

There’s a Word for It

Sometimes, I lose sight of the purpose of language. I think of it as a tool, or something to be studied. I think of it as a trial, or something that others just don’t understand very well – and would they just get on with it because there’s really nothing very difficult about it, for christ’s sake.

Then, they orient me. That’s why I have students: reality check whenever I get too full of myself.

My students are there because they don’t have the language skills to get through an English class. Usually, they just don’t have the language to get through it; it’s a matter of naming the rhetorical devices so they can discuss them.

Of course, working with teenagers, most of them need words to describe sex. We don’t give them these words because we’re of the impression that – even though we all thought about it – our little innocents would never be thinking of such stuff. One student is trying to compare several books to Slaughterhouse Five (and I gave him Brian Francis’ Fruit as an ISU novel, which he’s enjoying immensely) so we talked about homoeroticism. “How’s that different from homosexuality?” Well, it’s more about appreciation for the body than use of the body. “Oh! There’s a word for that?” And I could see the little gears in his brain working it all out. He smiled as though I’d given him a gift.

ESL students need to describe things, too: Johnny Depp’s chest, to be precise. “Barrel-chested?” “No. By no means. You might describe Robin Williams as barrel-chested, but Johnny, well, he’s more fit. Or maybe even ripped.” The next day, her Skype status was “Johnny Depp is ripped.” Fortunately, most of the adults around her don’t speak English well enough to be concerned with this.

My daughter also needed some new words recently. “God, you can tell he’s gay. You wouldn’t call it so easily with the other one, though.” “Dear, that would be top and bottom.  No, you cannot decorate our apartment like a beach house.”

One of my students needed a word to deliberately annoy a teacher. “He talks on and on and he’s really boring, and I need to use a word so that he’ll stop boring us.” “Prosaic.” “Yep, that’s the one.” And she felt much better once she had a word to describe him. I didn’t even bother to ask if she used it on him – she just needed to have the word in her arsenal.

These are the kinds of words that need to be given to someone; the kids aren’t likely to Google “a word for Johnny Depp’s chest”. As well, smart phones are ostensibly banned in the schools. The authorities don’t want the students looking up the answers on the internet, much less chatting with each other to share information. But they’ve also chopped the budgets to the point where the schools are still using the same dictionaries that I used in high school. And the book is stored neatly on a shelf by the teacher’s desk, where a student would have to – very obviously – stand up and ask permission to get the book. The students aren’t provided with an up-to-date dictionary for perusing whenever they have a couple of minutes. They’re not given a thesaurus so they can have that perfect word to complete the essay, or perhaps even learn a new word because it’s sitting there right in front of their nose (how do you think I learned prosaic?). Parents are either banning their children from watching TV, or they’re letting them watch really stupid programming that makes limited use of vocabulary. And now the adults are claiming the next generation is ruining the language.

So, wouldn’t it behoove us to help them improve the language? How can we expect them to learn to use the tool if we don’t make it accessible?

My children both like words. My Perfect Nieces and Nephews all like words. If you use a new one (even one of those words which should not be used around Perfect Ones), they’ll try it out. In terms of language acquisition, it’s natural to consistently pick up new words. Those who assume that language acquisition trails off at a certain age, or those who assume an idea will not be thought just because one doesn’t have the language to think it, well, those people need to yank that sheep off their eyes. Newspeak has already been proven to fail.

I consistently learn new words. In fact, just last week I learned one that has solved a 40-year old issue: Sister #2 and her childhood friend both suffer from sophomania. I’m going to make up matching t-shirts for them. Is there a 12-step programme for them, do you think?

Israel Is Where It’s At (For now)

Activity Being Avoided: writing curriculum
Music In My Head: Toy Boy by Mika (No comments on my musical taste, please.  I have no control over what gets in my head.)
Tea Being Drunk: wild berry
Books Being Read: Slaughter House Five by Kurt Vonnegut (a book I’ve always meant to read and am now having to because a student is reading it for school)

So, I always have to have a thing to keep me going: something new and edgy and passionate that I can think about when life gets dull.  (Of course, what I define as “new and edgy” may not seem quite so new and edgy to most people.  You’ll have to try to see if from my perspective.  Good luck.)  When I was 20, it was modern Canadian literature; when I was 30, it was alternative education; now in my 40′s, it’s mostly writing but arts in general.  These little bursts of excitement eventually get assimilated into the Sheila essence, and then I have to find something else to rock my little mind.

Right now, Israel is rocking me.

There has always been a certain appeal to Israel.  It has all the things that I love: religion, history, politics, conflict (which I like for its effect on art, not because I enjoy watching people make each other bleed).  The languages are beautiful, and the landscape is the complete opposite of Ontario.  These things all make for excellent contemplation.

I fell over Israel by accident — as I tend to do with most of the interesting things in life.  My daughter’s Grade 12 Writers’ Craft teacher introduced me to Etgar Keret by way of The Nimrod Flipout.  Delicious.  So I had to hunt down anything I could find in English.  While surfing the internet for his stories, I then discovered Haim Tabakman: Eyes Wide Open is very good, but Raptures of Daily Existence made me feel so freaking irritated that it inspired a story.  (Shall let you know when it’s finished.)  Then the last issue of Canadian Art had an announcement for an Adi Nes exhibit that’s coming up in May.

I don’t think I can yet explain what it is about these artists that appeals to me so much: the juxtaposition of the old and the new?  the fusion of the old and the new?  the edge they put on everyday things like dinner and Bible stories?

The more I “research” (we can use that term very loosely — perhaps “immerse myself in” or “play around in” would be more appropriate) modern Israeli arts, the more I like.  And the happier I get.  And the less paid work I get accomplished because time just zips by when you have to write something down before you forget it.  But that’s the way life goes, ’cause there’s no way to survive the banalities of the day unless you have something to bribe yourself with.

And I choose to bribe myself with one of the oldest cultures in existence.  I’m okay with being a little slow on the uptake.

An Audience

A few of years ago, when I first started doing some serious writing, the other people in the writing group would ask “Who is your intended audience?”  I hated that question.  I just wrote some stories and hoped someone would, someday, voluntarily read them; enjoyment was entirely optional.

My writing process has changed a little.  I have an intended audience now.  This came about not through hordes of readers telling me that they were this-sort-of-person and they loved my stories, but through the writers who critique my writing at workshops. Now,  I’m writing for good writers and good readers, as well as just writing to get the stories out of my head so there’s room for new ones.

Being a somewhat contrary person, I began discovering my audience antithetically; it became quite clear that there were certain people I didn’t want to write for.  I have absolutely no respect for people who don’t read — for whatever reason — so they’re automatically off the list.  People who are too lazy/disinterested in looking up a new word or idea are the sort of people I work with, not the ones I write for, so anyone who isn’t interested in learning or thinking is also a waste of my time.  (This last group includes people who believe my subject matter is shocking or controversial.  If you want shocking and controversial, read this.)

That takes care of a lot of people.

Then I switched directions and started thinking about the people I would be pleased to have read my work: logophiles, people who are drawn more to character than plot, people who like minutiae.  I like those sorts of people. When they tell me I’ve written something worthwhile, I grin like a little kid.  There are also some logistical definitions of my audience: necessarily, they  have to be fluent in English and like reading short fiction.  They have to know the implications of a semi-colon, because life ain’t worth living without semi-colons.

In short, I’m writing for myself and Yann Martel.

Having an intended audience does make the writing easier — or, rather, it makes the revisions easier.  It does throw a wrench into the works, though: I look at things I wrote three or four years ago (like a part of Holland and Jaime) and wonder what the f*** I was thinking.  But I’m also learning more about writing — you can never learn it all — and am delighted every time I discover a new, small thing that will make my audience happy.  The weird thing is that I care about making them happy now, when three years ago I couldn’t have given a rat’s posterior about them.

Aren’t you pleased that you’re now important to me?

Why They’re Unemployed

Activity Being Avoided: taxes
Music In My Head: Go To The Mirror from Tommy by The Who
Tea Being Drunk: blueberry
Books Being Read: another foetal novel written by a different friend; Fall On Your Knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald (re-read)

A friend of mine posted this HR story on Facebook.

I’ve been hiring new teachers.  It’s a good thing I get paid — and paid well — to read resumes and interview people.

It’s not that I expect perfection.  It’s an interview, and the interviewees are human (most of them) so I make allowances for nerves and typos, etc.  But if you’re applying for an ESL teaching position and you tell me you like to “teach something and have it produced back to me”, you will come under suspicion.  If you do your best to assure me that you “don’t allow phone to be done in the classroom”, I will do my best to keep you as far away from my students as possible.

At least I haven’t had to deal with any penises yet.  Not from the teachers, anyway.

New Story

I put a new story in the latest issue of TOZ (my writing group’s e-zine).  You can download it here for free.

 

Carlo Ricci’s “The Willed Curriculum”

Preface

Allow me to make a few things crystal clear:

  • I love the concept of unschooling. If we could wrap our minds around it, unschooling would make an excellent method of mainstream education.
  •  Other methods of education are also very good; it all depends on the student’s needs. Educators need to make the whole of the universe available to students.  As Pat Farenga says, “I’m partial to the term learning.”
  • Carlo Ricci is very cool. I admire anyone who is willing to take on thousands of years of culture and tradition to change something that obviously needs to be changed.
  • As a general rule, I prefer self-published books to those edited for mass consumption. The oddities and inconsistencies are refreshing.

The moment I saw The Willed Curriculum, Unschooling, and Self-direction, I bought it. Yes, I do think I need another book on alternative education, because reading is my chosen (preferred, inherent) method of learning.

I squeaked with pleasure when the package slid through my mail slot.

There Are Always Good Things about Any Book

If you read The Willed Curriculum, Unschooling, and Self-direction, you will inevitably broaden your horizons to some degree. Ricci quotes The Big Dudes of Education – John Holt and John Taylor Gatto – and The Somewhat Smaller Dudes such as Ron Miller and Pat Farenga. He steps away from the narrow perspective to include quotes from bell hooks and Alfie Kohn, elaborating on how such basic concepts such as love and respect have been stripped from the modern public schools. He compares and contrasts the behaviour and education of his two daughters, one of which attends school while the other is unschooled. Real-life examples are used.

I’d Have Edited His Book for Free

Books are the mainstay of alternative education. They’re a simple, cheap way of spreading ideas and information around the world. While there will always be alternatively-educated people who don’t like to read, their numbers are probably comparable to the number of people who don’t like ice cream; the majority of people will hunt down and kill any book they think might offer them the knowledge they desire.  An alternative-education author clearly has a responsibility to their readers.

Reading the 150 pages of this book almost killed me.

Ricci’s writing style is nothing more than lecture transcription. But what can be tolerated in a university lecture does not make for acceptable reading. The sentences are long and convoluted; points and phrasing are repeated… and repeated… and repeated. The chapters read with an air of lectern-thumping evangelism. The only relief from the lecturing is when Ricci regresses to a Grade 6-level announcements: “Throughout this chapter I will…” and “In this chapter I will share….”

If you can stomach the crude writing style, you’ll also run into some dubious practices such as where Ricci uses paraphrasing to change a quoted sentence to the negative. Here, he claims to be quoting Pat Farenga: ‘“Another strength is that you as a parent are [not] acting as the teacher who has to know everything… and you’re [not] sort of an ATM of knowledge dispensing to kids as they punch the numbers in”’ (p.32-33).  (If you do a little hunting on YouTube, you’ll discover that Farenga did imply the negatives, and it’s just Ricci’s little writing quirk that makes it all seem shady.)  A reader may lose even more respect for the author when they read words like dialoguing and organic processes.

Ricci, despite (in spite of?) a fair amount of schooling, seems to have trouble grasping the use of vocabulary. Chapter 5 begins with “Love is the most overused term that is underused. The previous sentence may not make sense, but what I am trying to capture by using it is that on one hand, you can barely have a conversation with someone without the word love being used” [sic] (p.57). At no point does he explain how a word can be overused and underused at the same time. However, the most discrediting use of vocabulary can be found at the beginning of the book on p. 14, where Ricci says, “Where there may be some disagreement with Miller’s statement is around the issue of schooling. In other words, does the broader definition of unschooling presume that those who define themselves as unschoolers cannot attend a formal school setting?” While I do sympathise with Ricci (my own two children made the choice to attend high school, against my better judgment), there is no way the use of the prefix un will allow an unschooler to be schooled. Perhaps Ricci would like to try it in a language other than English?

The most disappointing aspect of the book, though, has nothing to do with the horrendous writing. It has to do with Ricci’s clear lack of respect for his older daughter’s decision to attend school. He writes lengthy passages criticising her school, its safety rules and its methods of educating the students. He criticises the behaviour of the other students, the teachers, and the office staff. I was hoping – assuming – that he would spend a little time talking about how he unschools his older daughter outside of school hours; apparently, he doesn’t.  He believes it more important to announce how rarely he enters his daughter’s school.

It’s unfortunate that this book isn’t able to further the progress of alternative education. Generally considered an excellent advocate for unschooling, Ricci has lowered himself to the ranks of tent-revivalist. It’s also unfortunate that, by publishing his distaste for his older daughter’s choices and attempting to change the syntax of English, he has proven himself unworthy of creating a relevant book entitled The Willed Curriculum, Unschooling, and Self-direction.