Russian Reader

In my stats, I have noticed a faithful Russian readership, and it appears to be human readership, not just crawling. And maybe it's a proxy, although what situation you must be in to choose Russia as your proxy, I don't care to guess.

I sound like I know what I'm talking about when it comes to the mysteries of the internet, and I assuredly do not. All this to say that I appreciate you, Russian friend(s). Thanks for reading for the past six years.

Danticat's "We are Ugly, But We are Here"

Edwidge Danticat is a Haitian author whose essay called "We are Ugly, But We are Here" slaps me upside the head with perspective. Who has ever grieved at pimples from a lack of sleep, or a roll of fat from a lack of activity, or a new wrinkle from worrying? Remind yourself of what matters: you have participated in life.

"There is a Haitian saying which might upset the aesthetic images of most women. Nou led, Nou la, it says. We are ugly, but we are here. [... T]his saying makes a deeper claim for poor Haitian women than maintaining beauty. [... W]hat is worth celebrating is the fact that we are here, that we against all the odds exist."

She gives some examples in the essay of the trials women have endured in her mother country; one woman has scars on her flesh and in her nostrils from where soldiers shoved lit cigarette butts up her nose. Who tells that woman, who tells THAT WOMAN that she is ugly? Go ahead. But you don't understand anything. And for that matter, who tells anyone that he or she is ugly? What do you know? What do I know about what another has seen? We don't know. We must listen.

"To the women who might greet each other with this saying, [...] [i]t is always worth reminding our sisters that we have lived yet another day to answer the roll call of an often painful and very difficult life."

If people call you ugly, turn to them the other marred cheek. "Sure," say to them, "I am ugly." Why not? Smile to yourself, smile to the injured one who stands before you: "But I am here."

The whole of the essay is here, and takes only a few minutes to read.
http://www2.webster.edu/~corbetre/haiti/literature/danticat-ugly.htm

Thanks, Mom

Prompt: Indulge in nostalgia

I don't normally think about the positive things I associate with being a kid. My childhood is filled with half-gratified desires. I often think about how hard I had it. I always had questions that needed answering, and I longed to grow up so I could be taken seriously.

The library. As a child, my room had lots of picture books, and we were always at the library swapping them out. We rented movies from there, too, especially during the summer. I remember the first time I saw Princess Bride. My brother was skeptical that it was going to be "a girl movie" (ha!!). It should go without saying that we were both entirely satisfied by the viewing experience.

Midnight Snack. How it got started, I don't know. And it was never actually midnight when my mother indulged our young cravings for sweets. She put a few Graham crackers out with cups of milk. I became a pro Graham-dunker. Good job, Mom, on not giving us fruit snacks or candy at that hour. She knew nutrition, even if our babysitters were sometimes less than aware.

Reading to us.Why does no one read to me now? It's so comfortable and cozy to sit and listen to someone else's voice, on and on. As I rested my head on her side, I closed my eyes and heard her voice, swallowing my thoughts and spooning a thin layer of honey all over the world. She read to us before bed almost every night, when she wasn't working, of course, and she'd dismiss us to bed with, "first one to bed gets first hugs'n'kisses!" We scrambled for our rooms, and made such a fuss if she didn't judge correctly the "winner" of the game.

"Go outside and play." In my imperfect memory, Stephen always seemed to be outside with his friends, riding bike, or skateboarding, or playing street hockey, or... many other mysteries. None of my friends lived in town for a long time, so I confined myself to the yard, learned nothing there, and felt lonely. But at least I was outside, and so was Stephen, usually. Once, though, I recall he and Logan and Danny (together, the Three Musketeers, but without the noble intentions or code of honor) were playing in the basement. They were there for a long time, and finally came upstairs giggling. They had spray-painted their initials on a yellow, metal cabinet, long unused, in the tiny work room. The fumes had been getting to them, but they also thought that they were the cleverest little rascals to ever strategically spray paint their initials. The "LSD" cabinet remained in the house for a long time.

"Why don't you stay home tonight?" In high school, my mom would tell me that I couldn't go out, just because "you've already gone out three nights this week. It would be a good night to stay in." I so little understood how much my bitter, "But why?!" could have hurt her. My "why?" to the request to stay home implied so much: that I wanted to get away from her and the family, that I didn't think they were worth my time, that I had better things to do, better places to be, in short, that I didn't value my home community and consider it worth my contribution.

I wish more parents would tell their kids to stay in a few nights a week. When I tell it to dorm students, they are frustrated. They say things like, "It feels like I'm in prison!"; "I hate this place!"; "Why do you want to control me!?" But by the end of the year, they realize that the time they spent here was valuable. They wish they had spent more time getting to know the other students and advisers. They realize that this was their home for a while, and wish they had owned it more, contributed more.

RE: Reading FOR FUN

Recently, James Patterson posted this status on Facebook: "Any of you know any English teachers? Would you do me a favor? Please ask them, in their experience, what their best strategy has been for getting kids to like reading FOR FUN? Or, if they hadn’t had much luck, what they think the reasons are? Thanks."

My friend kindly forwarded this status to me, and of course I wondered, is Patterson asking me how he might sell more books? Marketing advice from an English teacher? But he got me thinking about it, then writing about it, and here we are.

First, I have to ask myself why I want kids to read more FOR FUN. I mean, why would I spend so much energy teaching someone how to have fun? "For fun" alone seems a poor reason for doing things. And I can think of a million more ways to have fun that don't involve as much work as reading; spray painting bad words on a neighbor's shed, for instance, would serve the purpose beautifully.

But I want my students to read because it will help them to think about new things. Reading will help them to live their lives better. Reading will help them to concentrate long enough to think through a problem. And lastly, I want them to read because I'm a cop-out. Reading will teach them all I cannot hope to.

Now I am ready for the "how?". But I am not an expert here. I've loved to read ever since I got the hang of it.

Right now, at the beginning of my teaching career, I can think of three things that I do to encourage readers:

1. My love for reading grew from being read to, so I read to them.

2. I never seem to have enough time to sit and read, so I make time to read in class. They can read anything they want, they just have to be reading and silent.

3. I usually only do things when I see someone else doing it, so I read near them. During our silent, sustained reading, I am reading, too. I let myself get into the book, right then, right there, instead of answering emails and grading things. Then afterward, I will sometimes share what I was reading, something that puzzled me, something I liked.