A few weeks shy of 11 months after posting my list of 40 things I would like to accomplish by the time I turn 40, it seems relevant to report in on my progress. The past year has been a time of pretty intense change in my life. I made the decision to leave a city and state I didn’t particularly love, not because I had somewhere better to be, but merely because I no longer wanted to be where I was. I left two jobs, both of which had aspects that were incredibly rewarding and aspects that were gnawingly upsetting. Neither job was sustainable financially, nor offered enough benefits (like health insurance or benefits of any kind) to stay long term. So it was time to go. As such, much of the year has been spent addressing old commitments and responsibilities while trying to create and allow space for new ones to develop. It hasn’t necessarily been a wish list year, but definitely a building year nonetheless.
There are only two things I feel prepared to cross off my 40 by 40 list:
First, “21. Take a self-defense class.” I took a six-week self-defense class this Fall at the local gym. My instructor was this tall, skinny ex-Marine with a black belt in Tae Kwon Do who was pretty much a ninja (and who thinks his sensei may be training him to be an assassin). He is also a very cool dude. I learned a ton, perhaps most importantly that my knowledge (and skill) is very limited. I left the class with a collection of useable moves and knowledge, but also understand that self-defense is a practice – one of those “use it or lose it” skill sets. I’m hoping not to have to put my newly acquired skills into active use, and yet I don’t want to forget the things I’ve learned. In fact, I’d love for them to become instinctual. Short of taking up martial arts, I’m uncertain how that will come to pass, so in the meantime I am content to say I took the class and will figure out the next step later.
Second, I can officially cross “5. Earn a Masters degree” off the list. It has been a long, tedious path and even saying “I did it, finally” seems like tempting fate. Most every roadblock that could have impeded my work did. IRB folks took a month off while I faced down a deadline they imposed. The academic advising folks decided at the last minute to try to hold me accountable to program requirements implemented two full years after I began the program. An advisor gave me an “R” grade (an incomplete in a research course) for no discernable reason and didn’t change it to a letter grade (an “A,” thank you very much) ‘til the eleventh hour when I was facing down a deadline that would have prevented me from graduating. And that doesn’t include the numerous years and hundreds of hours it took to complete the thesis itself. It’s been a long journey. But, as of Tuesday afternoon, I have an email and a transcript informing me that my degree has indeed been conferred. Thank goodness. Now I can walk away from the hellish bureaucracy and focus on more important things. (And yet, it still doesn’t feel real. And I have a month-long wait until they send me my actual degree. That’s one VERY expensive piece of paper.) Regardless… yay!
I have one goal that I completed roughly one-third of: “16. Buy a bicycle and a helmet. And ride whenever possible.” A bicycle was bequeathed to me by an old roommate who moved to Iowa and knowingly left it in our basement. I carted the bike across the country with me when I moved, but never succeeded in getting the tune up I decided it needed, nor in buying a helmet. Thus, no riding took place. And now it’s cold and wet and I’m not hardcore enough to ride in the wintery ick. I have hopes for completing the remainder of the goal next Spring/Summer…
Running Man. (The yoga pose, not the dance move.)
image via Kate Taylor
And I have three goals that are what I would consider “lifestyle goals” – the kind that you can’t really accomplish except continually. (As such, I am uncertain the requirements for successfully checking them off of my list. Something to ponder…) First, I have tried (with varying levels of success) to “17. Be committed to having physical activity as a central component of life. This can include running, yoga, pilates, biking, etc. on a regular basis (at least 3-4 times a week).” I’ve been taking a fantastic yoga class at the local gym with a wonderful teacher that challenges me and makes me feel strong. (On Monday I learned the Running Man, though I hold mine barely above the ground, not all fancy high-in-the-sky like the photo to the right. Wow!)
My ridiculously adorable niece
with whom I spent 60+ hours a week.
And before I was nannying 60 hours a week I was getting to the gym roughly three times a week. Now it’s once or twice. It’s hard (for me) to build in time for intentional physical activity when I leave for work at 6am and get home 6:30pm or after. So, a goal in progress… (and that’s okay).
Second, I’ve had the opportunity to “25. Play the piano regularly again.” I’m currently living in a house with a piano and can play nearly any time I want. It’s lovely, and while I would really like to buckle down and play/practice an hour every day, or some similar routine, I’m grateful to have this happy outlet accessible as time permits. I often play 15-20 minutes a few times a week. It makes me happy. (And helps me see both how much my piano skills really have remained instinctual and how much has slowly faded of over the years of non-use.) It’s a joyful time, nonetheless.
And third, I’ve been able to “26. Join a regularly performing choral group that challenges me and brings me joy.” It’s nothing fancy – a local church choir, but one that does a good variety of music and holds itself to a high standard. It’s been great to practice my sight-reading skills and revisit the self-reliance of singing in a fairly small group (only 3-5 regular altos). And the obligation is minimal – rehearsal one night a week and performances on Sunday mornings. A few of the pieces we’ve done have included (one of my favorites) Manz’ “E’en So Lord Jesus Quickly Come” (this version is a bit slow, but…), Benjamin Britten’s “Jubilate Deo,” John Rutter’s “The Lord Bless You and Keep You,” “For the Beauty of the Earth,” and “Star Carol,” and the classic 16th century German carol “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming.” And I’ve been working on remembering all those years of Latin, as well as once again picking up a Gregorian chant here and there. I’m grateful to be in a space that I can really sing. What a gift.
Otherwise, life carries on. And more changes seem to be on the horizon. I’m uncertain what 40 by 40 goals are next on the agenda, but I’ll fill you in as time passes. Hope you all are well!
I work at a school that’s atypical in a number of ways. It’s a 110 year old, co-ed, private K-12 school (housed in one building) in the heart of Chicago, and our educational philosophy is based on progressive, constructivist, democratic ideals. We are pretty intentional about things like building a safe, productive community in which everyone’s voice is welcomed, in which challenging one another and challenging previously unquestioned ideas and assumptions is encouraged, and where differences are valued as strengths, especially when our differences challenge one another to be more knowledgeable, more thoughtful people. We have a common language and shared ideals with which everyone is familiar and by which everyone strives to abide, including:
Our motto: “Everything to help and nothing to hinder.” – Francis W. Parker (our founder)
“A school should be a model home, a complete community, an embryonic democracy.” – Francis W. Parker
“If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” – 1 Corinthians 12:26 (We are not a religious school, but this biblical quotation is a guiding adage that has been part of our expectations for one another for generations.)
There’s a lot of history, and a lot of tradition, at the school. But it’s not all about being serious and stoic. We try to be a place where the whole person is welcome – whether that whole person is a student, a family member, or a faculty or staff member. And that means that we share gifts, abilities, talents (and challenges) that are parts of our ‘real world’ lives with one another, even if those things might not be welcome in other, perhaps more traditional schools. At our school, students and teachers laugh together (and cry together), and teachers share things about their ‘real lives’ that the school culture in other settings might discourage – things like our whole identities, our political beliefs and convictions, what we did over the weekend, and when we are an awesome break dancer. (Which I am not.) And one of the things we love to share with one another is HUMOR!
A relatively new tradition at our school (ranging back to at least 2006) is the annual Mike and Duane Show – a production that essentially boils down to a comedy sketch show presented primarily by faculty and staff, with occasional student involvement. It includes comedy routines, dances, music videos, and always a princess number. It’s a pretty serious undertaking and a beloved piece of our school community.
Last year I shared with you the “Bad” video that was a part of the 2010 Mike and Duane Show. (And it’s totally worth revisiting, or visiting for the first time if you’ve never seen it. How often have YOU watched your Assistant Principal dance Michael Jackson through the halls while being backed by a gang for faculty and staff?!)
This year, I thought I’d share a little more – both present and past. This year’s show was fun. It included lots of singing and dancing, a video/live performance of an original tune, a high school science teacher showing off his aerial acrobatic skills, and a crazy music video mash-up of Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal,” Katy Perry’s “Firework,” Onyx’s “Slam,” and Ok Go’s “End Love.” (The links will show you video of these acts.)
But, to give you an idea of the tone in which the show is presented, here was this year’s introduction (inspired by The Electric Company, of course):
(And in case you want to know, Duane is a counselor in our Middle School, Mike works in our afterschool program for K – 5th graders, and Casey (Hudetz – thus “Chudetz”) teaches in the Middle School computer lab.)
Every year's show features a faculty number which typically recreates some pop culture dance from the previous year – ranging from the Jai Ho to the Sound of Music flash mob in Amsterdam to this year’s Double Dream Hands, of which I was a part. See if you can spot me:
And there is typically at least one performance by faculty and staff who actually live up to the title ‘dancer.’ This year, said talented folks did a remake of Janet Jackson’s "Rhythm Nation."
There are MANY a great Mike and Duane act from years past. Here are a few of my favorites:
2007:
(The prince is played by our assistant principal, the cop is our technology facilitator, and the cab driver is one of our high school science teachers.)
2008:
2010:
For us, part of being a community means making time to laugh together and making time to share our talents – both those of the students and those of faculty and staff. And we like to have fun. Isn't that how school should be?!
Yesterday the Tennessee State Senate passed Republican Senator Stacey Campfield's Senate Bill 49, the so-called "Don't Say Gay" bill, by a vote of 20-10. (Some are reporting the final vote as 19-11. I’m unsure of the official results. Either way, the bill passed.) The bill has received controversial attention over the past several weeks (months and years) over the appropriate place of government to limit dialogue in classrooms. The bill’s original language (pdf, one page – very short) stated that "No public elementary or middle school shall provide any instruction or material that discusses sexual orientation other than heterosexuality." The bill was then amended such that it could only be adopted after a review by the state board of education of "the current curriculum standards for the teaching of sex education or for the teaching of other subjects in which the discussion of human sexuality may occur incidental to the subject" (pdf, 1 page).
On Friday an amendment (for which I cannot find the official text) was submitted, and then adopted – leading to the passing of the bill – with at least two changes from the original. First, the phrasing "sexual orientation other than heterosexuality" was stricken and replaced by limiting discussions to only "natural human reproduction science." (This change was fine with Campfield who said, "There's more than one way to skin a cat.… I got what I wanted.… Homosexuals don't naturally reproduce.") In addition, the amendment loosened the scope of the bill such that educators could respond to student questions about homosexuality without punishment, but still cannot offer materials or engage curriculum or instruction inclusive of homosexuality.
According to the Asheville Citizen-Times, "Companion legislation in the state House of Representatives has not advanced out of committee, and supporters of the bill do not intend to bring it up again until 2012."
As a practicing teacher of Kindergarten students, my concerns and fears about this bill are stacking up. Limiting the possibility for discussion and dialogue on any subject typically has dangerous results. Even hypothesizing the consequences of this bill, the following are a few of my concerns. If I were teaching in Tennessee (which I am not):
The bill would prohibit my inclusion of curriculum and dialogue that acknowledges the lived experiences of my current students who have gay parents or other gay family members or friends.
The bill would prohibit my colleagues who work with older elementary and middle school students from including dialogue or curricular material that acknowledges and supports students who may be gay or questioning or who have gay family members or friends.
The bill would limit our inclusion of curriculum in which sexual orientation or identity is relevant to understanding. For example, a discussion of race, ethnicity, and power is relevant to understanding slave narratives or narratives by native peoples (both of which are currently part of our third grade curriculum, by the way). This bill prohibits a similar discussion of sexuality and power as it relates to understanding historical and cultural events, social structures and consequences, literature, poetry, other creative works, and so on.
The bill severely limits and/or prohibits teachers and counselors from sharing gay-positive materials with gay and questioning students (who do exist in middle school, and sometimes even late elementary school).
The bill severely limits and/or prohibits both offensive and defensive efforts to address bullying around issues of sexuality or perceived sexuality.
In addition, the bill seems reliant on at least two faulty assumptions. First, the bill suggests that sexuality is a non-issue before ninth grade. As anyone who knows anything about human development can confirm, sexuality has a place in the lives of all people at all points in their life, both personally and contextually. This looks very different at different ages, but has a presence nonetheless. For example, my students are four and five. Generally, they are not dealing with issues of their own sexuality, but the sexuality of their parents, older siblings, extended family members, family friends, and so on, plays an important role in shaping the cultural and social contexts in which they live. I have a responsibility to help my students understand the world they see around them – a world in which diversity has an active presence (as relates to sexual orientation and a billion other identity markers). Sexuality has consequences for our social structures and the lives of my students. As such, sexuality is a relevant issue prior to ninth grade and being able to address it in age-appropriate ways is vital for supporting healthy students, families, and communities.
Second, the bill seems to suggest the idea that NOT talking about homosexuality means it doesn't exist or will disappear. Sorry to say, that’s not true. Campfield says his bill is morally and ethically neutral, but banning the discussion of one thing while allowing continued discussion of another is not neutrality. It is blatant bias. And, looking through the examples of history, intentionally creating silence around an issue won’t silence those fighting the injustice of hatred.
And in times of blatant hatred, sometimes a little tongue-in-cheek comedy is a helpful way to take action. Thus, props to George Takei. I’m on board. "It's OK to be Takei!"
Plus, as an ironic side note, yesterday (before I knew about SB49 passing) I read And Tango Makes Three with my students. It’s a children’s book that’s been banned all over the place because it “promotes the gay agenda.” It’s a true story about two male penguins in NYC's Central Park Zoo who adopt an egg in need of care and raise the resulting chick, Tango. We read the book because it integrated perfectly into our current curriculum. We’ve been talking for months about families – what a family is, who’s in a family, and really working to acknowledge the idea that no two families are the same, that all family compositions and identities are ‘real’ families, and that we can find similarities between ourselves and others, just as we can find differences. In addition, this week we were talking about zoos – as we focused on the letter Z, continued investigations about animals, and visited the zoo one block from our school. AND, we’ve been preparing the children for their eventual transition to the next grade level. We’ve been visiting the classrooms they may be in next year and the students in those rooms have been studying bird life cycles, so have been hatching chicken, duck, and quail eggs. My kids loved hanging with the baby birds. As such, And Tango Makes Three touches on all these curricular topics – families, zoos, animals, baby birds. How could I possibly have found a better curricular match?! “Gay themes” be damned. And what did the kids want to talk about when we finished the book? How cute penguins are and how parenting penguins prepare and then care for their baby chicks. Very controversial stuff.
For other (blatantly anti-SB49) videos, you can check out Jon Stewart and the folks at FCKH8.
Last weekend I spent my Saturday night at a fundraising event hosted by the school where I teach. The purpose of the evening was to raise money for our scholarship fund. 17% of our student population (1 in 6 students) receives financial aid to attend our school and the average award is $17,000. The goal of the evening was to raise ½ million dollars for our scholarship fund through a combination of ticket sales, raffle tickets, silent auction, live auction, and outright donation. I was able to attend the event because the parents of one of my students offered to buy my ticket. Events like this are a huge mixed bag for me. I often find it incredibly uncomfortable being around so much affluence (mostly because of the casual way the upper class are able to talk about and spend large amounts of money in a way so intensively different from my own experiences), and yet these events can also feel inspirational to me when I see others’ willingness to so generously share what they have. (Yes, there are often intense politics involved with such charity/generosity, but I also have to be thankful for what can be done with that money rather than focus too intensely on the other aspects that are much harder for me to deal with.)
During the evening, Gabriel Anaya, a graduating senior, shared a video he had made for the event. I’ve been lucky enough to work with Gabriel in a limited way this school year. His high school science course “Global Local Connections” (GLC) has spent some time working collaboratively with my kindergarten students. (We did a whole bunch of planting together and last week harvested arugula from our school’s hoop houses and made arugula butter and pizza.) Gabriel seems a genuinely kind-natured guy, somewhat soft spoken (at least with me and my students), but pretty aware of who he is. During one the days the GLC students were in my room, Gabriel asked if he could shoot some video of what was going on. During the scholarship event, I saw the faces of my students and the faces of many other students in our school community reflected back to me and to a room of several hundred other adults. And I cried.
When the video ended, Gabriel, who was on stage, was given a standing ovation. It brought him to tears as well. He talked about the power of education to realize your own potential, and he spoke about how his experiences as a high school student have made him believe that he has something of value to offer the world.
I talked to Gabriel this week when he was again visiting my classroom. My partner teacher and I asked if he’d be willing to share a copy of his video with us, so that we, in turn, could pass it on to our classroom’s entire parent body. He generously agreed. His video is below.
I teach because I believe in the power of education to change lives and make them better. Education is about connection and passion and compassion. And Gabriel helped me remember that sometimes we get it right. As the end of the school year approaches, I’m sending love and peace out into the universe on his behalf and on behalf of all the others working to realize their potential in the world.
During snack time a few weeks back, a table of my students and I got into a discussion about superpowers (meaning superhuman abilities, not countries with international world influence). One of my students was celebrating her fifth birthday and had kindly brought pudding cups for everyone, and each chocolaty treat was accompanied by a Tinkerbell napkin.
One of the boys at my table (while devouring his way through the pudding cup) said, "I hate Tinkerbell. She’s stupid. Superman's so much cooler." There were mumbles of agreement from the other boys at the table and general silence, but wide-eyed attention, from the girls. Six pairs of eyes turned to me. Waiting. I said something along the lines of, "I bet Tinkerbell and Superman know each other. I mean, they both have superpowers, and how many people do you know who can fly? I bet they hang out." (And in case the truth is in question: yes, I’m that teacher; you know, the one that says stuff like this on purpose with the intention of making kids think. Though sometimes it just makes them think I’m crazy…)
For a short moment everything stopped. Everyone was quiet. But, you could see the kids’ minds kick into high gear, imaginations at work, processing and weighing the possibilities. It was as if each was asking him- or herself the question, "Is that possible? Could Superman and Tinkerbell actually know one another?! How would that work?!"
Then one boy (the one who had already declared his fairy-hate) said rather defiantly, "No way! They aren't even in the same show!" (Ah, media culture...)
I pushed my real point – "But they have the same superpower." There was a mumbling of discordant commentary. Finally I said, "Well, Tinkerbell flies, right? I mean flying is a superpower, right? So she has superpowers. The same superpower as Superman." My words were followed by a few seconds of tense, thoughtful silence. Then one of the girls responded, using the ‘sometimes we have to remind silly adults things that everybody knows’ voice. She said, "Fairies have 'special talents.'" She didn’t overtly add “And ‘special talents’ are NOT the same as superpowers” but that was the clear message. There were nods of agreement around the table. Another boy said, “And she doesn’t even have a real cape. Superman has a real cape. She doesn’t.” I replied, “She doesn’t have a cape at all. She has wings. And she flies.”
One of my students recently attached this image of herself
as a superhero to her Valentine to the class. Yippee!
The intention of this back and forth conversation wasn’t (necessarily) about who was going to ‘win,’ but rather about trying to push the kids to think about language in a different way. I wanted them to notice the words that they take for granted, and – without overly naming it with fancy jargon – moving them to see the gendered connotations of the words they use and the consequences of those connotations. All of the children could agree that Superman and Tinkerbell can both fly. In this situation, being able to fly is gender neutral; the kids accept examples of both males and females who can absolutely, without question, fly (at least in their imaginations and in stories). But, because of the gender socialization they have received and continue to be taught, when I say that Tinkerbell has ‘superpowers’ (a word socially marked as strongly masculine), the children have a feeling of disjuncture that they seek to alleviate – which they do by pushing back – by denying Tinkerbell’s possession of ‘superpowers’ and/or renaming her abilities as ‘special talents,’ words socially marked with a feminine connotation.
On the surface, this may seem like an innocuous, passing conversation, but to dismiss its implications so casually would be a mistake. Let me offer two similarly ‘innocent’ examples from the past few weeks:
First, a student and I were reading a children’s book about visiting other countries. The characters in the story travel by plane. We had a conversation that went like this:
Me: Would you ever like to be an airplane pilot, to fly a plane?
Her: No. [A perfectly acceptable answer.]
Me: Why?
Her: Girls can’t fly airplanes.
Me: Why not?
Her: Only boys can fly planes.
Through further conversation, it became clear that there was nothing I could say to convince her that women can, and do, indeed fly planes. She was firm in her belief that this was not an option open to her. (In the moment, I was so frustrated that I didn’t have a photograph or illustration showing a female pilot, but you never have those things when you need them.)
And second, on one of the recent days it was too cold to go outside to play, my student were watching a video adaption of the book Antarctic Antics: A Book of Penguin Poems by Judy Sierra and illustrated by Jose Aruego and Ariane Dewey. In one of the first poems a baby emperor penguin hatches and says, "I'm really hatched./ At last I'm free./ Hey, Dad, it's me!" My students immediately said, “That’s not the baby’s dad. That’s it’s mom,” to which I explained that male emperor penguins sit on the eggs to keep them warm 'til they hatch, so the ‘Dad’ would be the first parent a baby would see, not the ‘Mom.’ The kids were confused and somewhat resistant. As the video continued the children started seeing each penguin and shouting out, “That’s a boy. That’s a girl” – trying to identify the gender of each bird, even though the illustrations depict all of the birds as nearly identical. My students would say things like, “It’s a girl. Hear the voice?” To them it was like a playful game. To me they seemed almost frenetic in their determination to assign gender to the characters on the screen before them. It seemed intolerable and unacceptable to just not know someone's gender identity.
In all three of these examples – Superman vs. Tinkerbell, the gender of airplane pilots, and penguin genders – my students, who are four and five, have very clear ideas about acceptable gender categories and strategies for categorizing people and animals into those divisions based on appearance, other physical markers (like voice), and/or behavior. But even more so, they have concrete concepts of power attached to those gender divisions. On the whole, my students believe that Tinkerbell can’t have superpowers because she’s a girl. Only men can be airplane pilots. And it is important to be able to ‘read’ what gender category any given person or character falls into (and to my students there are only two viable categories – boy or girl). The implications of this are frightening to me. In addition to telling girls that they can only look and behave certain ways and only take on certain interests or work, the boys are being given equally clear messages, which seem to have quite a lot to do with aggression, domination, superiority, and entitlement. At the end of the day, everyone is screwed. And no one is truly free.
When I ask parents what they want or hope for their child(ren), they typically say (especially if they’re white and generally middle class or above) that they want their children to be happy and that they want their children to believe that they can be anyone or anything that they want to be. There is nothing wrong with those hopes. But, when everything about our culture – from media to books and from our schools to the socialization that takes place in our own homes – teaches kids from birth (and often before) that they can be whoever or whatever they want but only as long as they abide by very specific gender-based rules and norms, how does that make the world a more equitable place for children of all genders? How does that foster an environment where girls truly can be anything or anyone and an atmosphere where boys don’t have to be super-masculine to get their gender 'right'?
This figurine is in our classroom's
collection of pirate/castle gear. I adore
the unshaven, pink polka-dot look!
I don’t have my own children – which is probably a good thing because I think I would be the insane parent who no other parents would want to be around and no child would want to claim. I would likely go on tirades against pretty, pink princesses, I’d tell boys its okay to cry, and I’d be totally intolerable about all the research that talks about the ways we do our kids major disservices. But even without kids of my own, I do spend a lot of time with other peoples’ children. (Often, more time than they do.) And it’s fairly certain that I can’t singlehandedly change the course of how those kids think about (or don’t think about) gender and power issues related to gender. But I am in the position to push buttons, to instigate dialogue, and to challenge preconceived ideas. I’m able to ask my students, “Why do girls have 'talents' and boys have 'superpowers'?” And with adults I can offer a similar challenge: “Why are extraordinary abilities for female characters considered magical and used for things like making dewdrops and flowers and flitting daintily from blossom to blossom and being careful to stay out of the path of frightening humans? And why are extra-human capabilities for male characters considered outside the realm of magic (and more often contained in the realm of science) and such characters are fierce adventurers (as well as generally violent and destructive) who engage in battle, seek revenge, and expect admiration from the poor, weak populace? No, really, help a girl out. Why is it this way? I don't understand. And is this what we want our kids to learn about gender?”
At the end of the day, I want the world to look different. I want my students to believe that they can be airplane pilots, even the girls. And I want my students to believe that fathers are fully qualified and capable of being nurturing primary caregivers. I want me students to believe that gender is complicated and putting people in boxes can be limiting to everyone. If we feel free to be merely who we are, that’s more than enough.
And I want my students to know that fairies have superpowers.
I was wandering the internet this afternoon, as I am often wont to do when I am avoiding something else on the agenda. (Today’s avoidance was my taxes, which are now complete and filed.) In my YouTube perusing, I wandered into a clip from Me and Gus, the “interactive educational music video for children ages 0-6” I did back in 2006. Here’s the clip (and yes, it cuts off in the middle of a verse):
There are over 10,300 hits for this video, which is crazy (especially being that I had no idea the video was posted on YouTube). We also have a website (where you can see a bunch more clips) and a Facebook page (which I also didn’t know existed until today – where have I been?!).
Gus (looking like a shark in this shot) was played
by the talented Lee Tosca who is used to being
an art director, not a puppeteer.
For me, participating in this project was one of those, “What am I doing?! Is this really real?! Is this my life, or perhaps it’s just a crazy dream?!” experiences. At the time I was working at Boston Children’s Museum running their Music Department (which sounds super fancy, but really I was a one-woman department responsible for making sure my programs, staffing, calendar, and marketing didn’t collapse into a big ball of chaos around each and every corner). One of my favorite, and longest running, programs was a weekly group called “Sing-a-Story.” It was a literacy-based music and movement program for zero to three year olds and their families. We used our voices and bodies, puppets, books, and all sorts of other props (or none at all) to sing stories. (I mean, at the end of the day, what is music anyway, other than a form of storytelling?) One particular day, after a regular Sing-a-Story program, a woman approached me saying she was working on developing a children’s video that centered on learning through music and movement, and she wondered if I was interested in participating. I must admit I was skeptical; it was an odd request – both unexpected and surreal. But how sketchy could this woman, Kim, really be if she’s come to find me (with her kids in tow) while I was singing with a bunch of toddlers?
Long and short, I eventually signed on to do the pilot episode of Me and Gus. Kim had been looking for videos for her children that were educational and entertaining for kids, not annoying-as-all-holy-hell for adults, and sought to connect with children in a low-tech, simple kind of way. And she wasn’t finding any. So she decided to create her own. She called up her friend Fitz, who’s been doing awesome stuff in television and film for several decades, and they got to work.
By the time I came on board, the show was well under way. The script had been through a bajillion revisions and the songs were on their way to their finished form. I was able to offer my input from the position of a professional educator who regularly uses music to connect with kids, and I worked really hard to learn my lines and the songs. That said, I have to admit, I am a horrible actor. Always have been. So I was experiencing a growing concern that I wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. Performing music has always been easy. I can sing myself into tears or laughter, no problem. But delivering dialogue and having it sound natural and spontaneous is a skill I have never mastered. And I suck at memorizing anything. I can remember the plot points and story arch without issue and can make up dialogue that gets us where we need to be (I do it everyday in the classroom), but delivering word-for-word dialogue is a real challenge. Thus, the title of actor is not one I apply to myself. So, being asked to ‘act’ on film was a scary, scary, yet desirably challenging concept.
We were swimming.
Aren't my shoes cool?
As rehearsals and finally filming day came, I became increasingly anxious. I felt like the stakes were really high. And I wanted to meet the expectations being set for me. Plus, I was in a whole new world – a fast-paced world filled with very few familiar things to latch onto for support. I was “the talent” who had my own hair and make-up person, who could ask for anything I wanted and it would happen, who had someone drive me to and from set – all this crazy stuff. I was wired for sound (meaning I had to remember to turn off my mic pack when I went to the bathroom), I had to remember not to put my hair behind my shoulders because it would throw off consistency between shots, and I had to pretend that the sweat dripping down my back and soaking into my jeans wasn’t feeling like an extra ten pounds of water weight. It was crazy. And exciting. And hard. But I did the very best I possibly could – pushing to give everything I had to offer and to be successful at something I found intimidating.
I still have no idea if I lived up to the expectations of the creators, producers, and director. I hope so. I certainly learned a lot. And I think that if I ever had the opportunity to do something like it again I would be able to approach it with less anxiety, more grace, and a faster learning curve.
In the meantime, this was an opportunity to try on a different kind of life for a brief time. And an opportunity to really see and appreciate the immense talent, patience, and hard work that is part of working in the film industry day in and day out. They are amazing. And awe-inspiring. And for a short time I was able to witness their intense drive, determination, and passion. How lucky am I?!
Once the video was edited and put into circulation for the world to accept or throw off as it saw fit, I think I only watched the whole thing through once from beginning to end. (It’s hard to watch yourself on film.) But, I’ve had the opportunity to talk to a few families here and there who own the video and hear the ways it has been a valuable resource for their families. A few years ago I was in Michigan visiting a dear friend of mine. He had given the video as a gift to his niece and nephew the Christmas before, and when I got there the kids kind of hung back a bit. Eventually the older, who was maybe four at the time, said, “Are you Kelly? From my video? Do you really know Gus?” I said yes and we spent the rest of the weekend playing and singing and laughing together. I was honored and truly humbled that this small project I had participated in meant something special and valuable to these young children and their family. Seriously, how cool is that?!
Note: The photos in this post were taken by the talented (and busy) Debra A. Schneider who was one of the producers for Me and Gus.
I love music. (If you somehow missed that about me, we've obviously never met.) And I'm enraptured by the capacities of the human voice. AND, the human brain baffles me.
Also, Bobby McFerrin is really, really cool and you can't convince me otherwise.
There's a GREAT comment about this video on YouTube. It reads, (from 1987GTD) "People always laugh when they are suddenly aware of their awesomeness." Right? Right?!
If you want to read more 'technical' comments focusing on the way that McFerrin is highlighting the power of the human brain as it relates to the pentatonic scale, you can read some of the comments at TED.
And if you can't live without a little more McFerrin fabulousness, go listen to this AMAZING collaboration he does with -- tada! -- his audience. They do a juxtaposition of Bach's Prelude No. 1 and Charles Gounod's Ave Maria. (Tells you a thing or two about the knowledge set McFerrin's audience brings with them.) Plus, for vocalist geeks (like me) he gets in a few laugh-out-loud singer jokes! (On an only barely related note, my favorite music joke of all time is the following: "You all know what syncopation is, right?! It's irregular movement between bars!" And all the credit on that one goes to Doc. Shearer, my teacher and music magician for four years in college.)
Lead with Love is a 35-minute documentary film created to support parents and families struggling with the news that a child is lesbian, gay, or bisexual. It includes interviews with real families, answers to several commonly asked questions, and suggested action steps for parents working to deal with their emotions after hearing the news that their child does not identify as straight. The film also includes interviews with psychologists, teachers, and religious clergy.
The film is not perfect, but offers a much needed resource for familes. It is definitely worth watching, supporting, and spreading to others who may gain from its message of support. In addition, the film is VERY new (like, it just come out this week), so spreading the word is a much needed action.
This is the 2.5 minute trailer, but you can watch the entire video for FREE here. Go watch it!
This week has been a LONG week in the world of Kindergarten. Tuesday was parent/teacher conference day, which meant I had nine 45-minute conferences scheduled nearly back to back, and over the course of the week, I have had or will have ten more conferences. I’m tired. But I am reminded how much I love spending time with these amazing little people.
During my lunch break on Tuesday, I was chatting with one of our middle school music teachers – Kingsley – who came to my classroom a few weeks ago just to see what hanging out with little people is all about. He’s used to working with middle school and high school students, so suddenly being in a room with the school’s youngest members is a big change. (I teach Junior Kindergarten which is for four and five year olds.) At lunch, Kings was saying, “Yeah, I went in there and the kids wanted to show me all around their room. And, you know, they’re short, so when they wanted to get my attention, they’d touch me or pull on my pant leg or tap my leg. And there were hands all over me, even on my butt. And I’m like, ‘Hey, whoa! Wait a minute! Don’t you even want to get dinner first?’ … And then I realized I just needed to get down on their level so we could really talk.”
I think that’s a common reaction when figuring out what it means to really connect with young children. Their context for understanding the world is different than yours and you have to get out of your own head and your learned ‘grown up’ way of seeing the world so that when they invite you in, you can readily and openly accept that invitation. And I have the opportunity to do that every day! I’m one lucky kid!
Kings has a blog where he makes note of all sorts of things of interest, including his thoughts on education. After visiting my classroom and several other Kindergarten classes, here are a few excerpts from his reflections:
“I can’t imagine teaching students at this age,” is one the first comments teachers say when they observe grade levels they do not normally teach. Last week I spent time visiting three kindergarten classroom and seriously, I would have NO idea what to do with those kids. …
I observed students learning how to draw the letter “D.” There was snack time in which the students struggled to open their snack packs of vegetables and of course needed my help to open. Free playtime was great as students tugged at my pants to show me around the room. The most fascinating part was watching these students have conversations with each other, which made no sense to me at all but seemed [to] work for them.
Then there were the teachers. I have a limited amount of “elementary school affect” that I use with my third graders. It’s when the pitch of my voice gets a little higher, I talk softer and slower, and express a calmness and comfort completely devoid of the sarcastic edge which is characteristic of my voice. These teachers had this affect to spare laced with patience and understanding that was remarkable and awe-inspiring. …
What connected these teachers to the way I teach my eighth graders was the way they talked to the students. When you think about talking to young kids sometimes you think about dumbing things down but the teachers did the exact opposite. They challenged the kids, consistently asked follow up questions and forced the students to talk up to the teachers expressing respect, dignity and belief in the students.
It doesn’t [matter] what age a student is, you can always challenge them and push them to be better. … That's what my time in kindergarten reminded me. We don’t teach subjects, we teach people. The time we spend with students is about helping them be the best people they can be. That is something that is so in the forefront of the kindergarten classrooms and sometimes get lost in the bustle of older grades.
I really am so lucky! And this week in particular, amidst the weariness that comes from many an intense conversation with interested and invested parents, I am grateful for the voices of other adults – be they my students’ parents or my colleagues – who help me see afresh the wonderful things happening in the life of my classroom.
Note: The photos in this post are images I have taken of students in my class over the past few years.
I like Glee. It’s my guilty pleasure and the only TV show I watch faithfully.
And this week’s episode struck a chord with me. To catch you up, in case you aren’t a regular watcher, Kurt Hummel is the only openly out gay student at McKinley High. And he faces relentless bullying, overt and subtle – gay jokes and taunts, getting thrown in the dumpster, being slammed into lockers, the whole gamut. This week’s episode in particular really highlighted the overwhelmingly oppressive darkness that results from being treated with less than your full humanity, and how sometimes even the most well-meaning friends, teachers, and family-members can’t quite get past the “Sorry you’re having a hard time, but if you’re gay, things are gonna be rough” into a place where they reject the norm of intolerance, declare it unacceptable, and live that resistance in word and deed.
This week, in the midst of feeling utterly alone, Kurt met a new ally in Blaine, an openly out student at another high school, who offers Kurt courage, hope, and assurance that change is possible and life gets better. Plus, Blaine can SING. (And DANG, can he sing! We know how I have a ridiculously intense sweet spot for men’s a cappella, and the Dalton Academy Warblers bring it, singing a cover of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream.” I’m fairly certain this pushes my previous Glee favorite song – Lea Michele and Idina Menzel’s rendition of Lady Gaga’s "Poker Face" to number two!)
As you may have noticed, I titled this post “Queering pop culture.” In the realm of feminist theory and resistance, to ‘queer’ something means to change the way it’s seen, to shake the assumptions that hold social constructions in place, to deviate from what is socially understood as normal, and sometimes to even try to redefine what normal is. For me, to queer something can be a very positive thing – it can jolt folks out of their ‘normal’ experience long enough to (sometimes, we hope) be critical about why we do what we do, who it benefits, and who it limits. When we queer our understanding of the world, it can free up space for all people to freely be more wholly who they are.
What I like about this episode of Glee (and several others – several with Kurt’s dad come to mind), is that it (intentionally or unintentionally) has the potential to queer viewers’ ways of understanding the world (which, I believe, is a good thing). Merely because of its willingness to place marginalized experiences, like Kurt’s battle with bullying, at the center of the public’s view, those stories can be told through the eyes of those living them rather than through the eyes of those who fit into the social norm. (For feminist theory folks, we’re talking margin-to-center stuff here, and pushing into the power of standpoint theory.) Listening to marginalized voices tell their own stories tends to show the deep complexities of oppression, power struggles, and lived experiences in ways that are often erased when dominant voices frame the story. (This is the same concept often talked about in the context of history. “The victor writes the history books.” How is Columbus’s arrival in the Americas told differently through the eyes of native peoples? How would understanding change if racism were talked about as not merely individual, but also historical, structural, and institutional? You get the idea.)
So, I am grateful that this piece of Kurt’s story, as told through his eyes and his experiences, (alongside and in conjunction with other stories in other places) has the potential to complicate general understanding of the human experience. While Kurt’s story is not necessarily unique, nor the first time that such material has been on television, its presence on a popular, prime time, network television show is noteworthy and worthy of recognition.
Plus, they sing and dance!
Even so, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out a few of the frustrations I felt in watching how Kurt’s story played out on Tuesday’s episode and how those things relate to larger concerns in society. In the show, after Kurt sees the Warblers sing, he has a short conversation with Blaine and two other Warblers over coffee.
First, one of the students explains that at Dalton everyone is treated the same because they have a zero tolerance harassment policy. While I understand the impulse to suggest ‘easy’ fixes to issues of bullying, harassment, and abuse, adopting a zero tolerance policy is not enough. To create a safe environment for all students requires the changing of minds, the disruption of prejudices and biases, and a communal commitment to holding one another accountable to treating all people with their full humanity. And those efforts require continual work to learn how to think and act differently (because it does NOT come naturally in a society like ours built upon prejudice and inequality). So, adopting a zero tolerance policy is not a cure-all. It is surely a beginning step, but does not and will not create safe spaces for all students without intense, committed, and continuous work.
Second, when explaining how the school’s zero tolerance policy works, one of the students said, “Everybody gets treated the same, no matter what they are. It's pretty simple.” In the ideal world, it would be simple. In the real world, it’s not. Even in his statement, the student uses language that can feel dehumanizing. My hope would have been that he said, “Everybody gets treated the same, no matter WHO they are.” While this could be chalked up to a simple grammatical slip-up, it is important to be thoughtful about language use. We want to always aim to use language that honors individuals’ full humanity, rather than reduce people to objects (WHO you are vs. WHAT you are).
Third, Blaine offers Kurt some advice. He says, “You can refuse to be the victim. Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt. And you have a chance right now to teach him.” I agree; prejudice is ignorance. But, prejudice is often backed by power. In our society, individuals, groups, institutions, etc. get away with homophobia, racism, sexism, and so many others, because our social systems support them. Society is not inherently neutral. Lines were drawn long before we showed up on the scene, and while we didn’t pick the setup, it’s been laid out for us. Battling ignorance IS about education and about sharing information that changes the ways the world is understood, but we’re already starting on biased ground. The battle truly is an uphill climb. Plus, the battle is bigger than changing individuals. It involves changing individuals and seeking to change the larger culture that places limits and restrictions on those who don’t conform to a socially built idea of ‘normal.’ So, while perhaps Blaine’s advice is accurate and appropriate for Kurt, for Glee, and for the audience, I feel the need to acknowledge some of the complexities in accomplishing what Blaine suggests.
Okay, enough of my being down on the details.
As Emma Pillsbury would say, “Yay, Glee!” Plus, I must offer a shout out to actors Chris Colfer (who plays Kurt Hummel) and Max Adler (who plays Dave Karofsky). You gentlemen are amazing in your attention to detail. You knock my socks off!
Also, if you’re interested in other pretty mainstream examples of queering pop culture, a good example is the video below. The men of the University of Rochester's YellowJackets filmed a parody of the video to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me.” Much like Glee’s version of “Teenage Dream” could be interpreted as a musical conversation between two same-sex participants (Blaine and Kurt), the YellowJackets reimagine a song originally written about a hetero- couple in a queer context. (The video below has Swift’s voice as audio. If you want to hear the YellowJackets sing it, go here.)
From my perspective, the more we queer pop culture, the more space exists for everyone to feel safe and comfortable being exactly who they are. There has been a lot of news coverage in the past few months about young people who have taken their own lives as a result of bullying focused on the victim’s sexual orientation or perceived sexual orientation. Information from The Trevor Project tells us that suicide rates have not gone up, only the level of media attention they are receiving. Young people all over the country, and all over the world, are feeling hopeless, voiceless, and alone. Queering pop culture is one (of many) ways to help people feel less alone. Seeing media representations of characters and experiences to whom and with which they can relate matters.
If you’re unfamiliar with The Trevor Project, check them out here. Also, the It Gets Better Project, founded by writer and media pundit Dan Savage, is a space designed to give voice to experiences often pushed to the margins. Their tag says, “Many LGBT youth can't picture what their lives might be like as openly gay adults. They can't imagine a future for themselves. So let's show them what our lives are like, let's show them what the future may hold in store for them.” There are many great videos in their archives. If you haven’t seen the video by Fort Worth, Texas City Councilman Joel Burns, it is especially worth watching.
And, on a final, final note, if you feel the need to hear more delicious a cappella, give this a try. It’s the Leading Tones from The Ohio University (Ohio represent!) singing Ben Folds' "Brick." (Did you know Ben Folds pulled together a WHOLE album of collegiate groups singing vocal arrangements of his songs?! It's called Ben Folds Presents: University a Cappella! Hell to the yeah!)
It’s been buzzing around the internet the last little while, but have you seen the work of Bill Rankin? He’s a historian and cartographer, and the curator/developer/mastermind behind Radical Cartography.
He does all sorts of map-making that intentionally pushes the boundaries of how folks think about maps as information organizers, transmitters, and social tools. For example, his 2005 map called "Suicide" shows the difference in rates of suicide by white men and white women geographically in the U.S. (you might be surprised), and his 2006 map "U.S. Economic Empire" shows the percent of nations' GDP that was exported to the U.S. in 2003.
But what seems to have gained the most attention recently are his 2009 "Chicago Boundaries" maps, one which maps race/ethnicity in the city limits and the other which maps income in the same area. Here's what he says:
“Any city-dweller knows that most neighborhoods don't have stark boundaries. Yet on maps, neighborhoods are almost always drawn as perfectly bounded areas, miniature territorial states of ethnicity or class. This is especially true for Chicago, where the delimitation of Chicago's official “community areas” in the 1920s was one of the hallmarks of the famous Chicago School of urban sociology. And maps showing perfectly homogeneous neighborhoods are still published today, in both popular and academic contexts alike.
My alternative is to use dot mapping to show three kinds of urban transitions. First, there are indeed areas where changes take place at very precise boundaries — such as between Lawndale and the Little Village, or Austin and Oak Park — and Chicago has more of these stark borders than most cities in the world. But transitions also take place through gradients and gaps as well, especially in the northwest and southeast. Using graphic conventions which allow these other possibilities to appear takes much more data, and requires more nuance in the way we talk about urban geography, but a cartography without boundaries can also make simplistic policy or urban design more difficult — in a good way.”
Long and short, he used city-block level data from the 2000 U.S. Census (rather than 'neighborhood' data) to map race/ethnicity (using the categories stipulated in the Census). Every color-coded dot represents 25 people. A pink dot represents 25 White people. A blue dot reps 25 Black people. Asians are shown in green, Hispanics (again, the language of the Census) are in orange, and "Others" are in gray. The result: whatever people might suggest to the contrary, segregation very much continues to exist in Chicago my friends. (In case you had any doubt.)
But the visual is stunning – both for showing levels of racial integration (or its lack) and population density.
Running with Rankin's idea, Eric Fischer used the same technique to map over 100 U.S. cities. (And he just posted up the results less than a month ago.) The results are amazing to look at, in addition to being amazingly informative. Plus, being on Flickr, the images have numerous tags to help readers identify neighborhoods, landmarks, and so forth. And, as readers look through, some are also commenting on the many ways history impacts population divisions -- such as the effects of redlining in Detroit and the geographic boundary of the Pima Maricopa Indian Reservation just east of Phoenix.
Go check it out. It’ll give you something to think about.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love maps?!
UPDATE (November 2010): It recently came to my attention that Bill Rankin is the downstairs housemate of my good friend and old roomie Sarita. Imagine that. Small world, eh?! - November 2010
UPDATE (July 29, 2011): Bill Rankin recently posted a short (5 minute) video explaining his map of Chicago. It's super interesting and totally worth watching. Here it is:
Earlier this month, CitizenLink (a Focus on the Family affiliate) did a report that offered "back-to-school tools that'll help you identify and push back against the gay agenda in the classroom." (Note: Typically in my posts I link to organizations and groups I reference, but I’m not particularly fond of Focus on the Family and their affiliates, so if you’d like to see their sites directly, I encourage you to do so, but you will need to seek them out directly. They will come right up when you search for them by name.)
As a classroom teacher and an active LGBTQ advocate and ally, the CitizenLink broadcast makes me disheartened, sorrowful, angry, and hurt. Originally I sat down to write a satirical, comedic blog post on this topic, but I think I need to offer a sincere response. (Even so, comedy can be a great tool when confronting homophobia and bigotry. Bryan Safi over at Current TV has a great comedic response to Focus on the Family’s broadcast on his regular segment That’s Gay, which I enjoy thoroughly. You can watch his response here.)
Two things in particular about the CitizenLink report concern me:
First, CitizenLink’s Education Analyst (and I cringe at that title because it sounds so impartial and unbiased, but no one is truly objective and I’m trying to be respectful, so…) Candi Cushman makes a suggestion that concerned parents should check their child’s school library catalogue and search for key terms such as ‘homosexuality,’ ‘gay,’ and ‘lesbian.’ She says that if lots of items come up in the search then the school probably supports ‘the gay agenda.’ She argues that school libraries reflect school philosophies and if a library has a lot of ‘gay books’ then kids can check them out and teachers can use them as classroom resources. My thought is that libraries are meant to be the storehouse of available knowledge, which suggests that all ideas and opinions should be represented. If the ‘gay books’ are absent or restricted, then the library has failed to do its duty as a holder of knowledge and, at its worst, is participating in censorship. To blame a school for having books and resources is to deny trust or respect to its users – teachers, staff, students, and families – to be self-selective and judicious about material use. It also suggests that ‘gay books’ make people gay which, shockingly, is not true.
So, first, I’m concerned that Focus on the Family is suggesting a censorship of books and resources.
Second, CitizenLink’s anchor (or whatever) Stuart Shepard talks, along with Cushman, about ways to “identify and push back against the gay agenda in the classroom.” He says,
“Teachers send a lot of things home in the backpacks. It's important to read what's in there and kinda look for language that might be suggestive [of the gay agenda]. Often bullying is one of the ways that it's disguised. It talks about a Safe Schools Week or a Bullying Seminar."
In my experience, bullying takes many forms and attacks many people for many different reasons. Sexual orientation and gender identity, or the sexual orientation or gender identity of your friends or family, are only some of those reasons. At some point EVERYONE is the victim of bullying. I promise. To suggest that schools’ efforts to confront bullying supports ‘the gay agenda’ (whether you agree with that statement or not) denies the reality that ALL students can benefit from having less bullying in their lives – as protagonists and as victims. Cushman goes on to talk about ways to confront ‘real’ bullying, but as a professional educator I am shocked that ‘safe schools’ and ‘bullying’ are apparently buzz words synonymous with ‘gay activists’ and ‘gay supporters.’ I can pledge, proudly, that I will continue to actively fight bullying in my school and community and that INCLUDES fighting to protect LGBTQ folks and their friends and families. Mark me down as a ‘gay activist’ and ‘gay supporter.’ I welcome the label. And apparently families should now fear me. Though I’m still confused as to why. Bullying, in all its forms, hurts everyone, and we should do everything in our power to actively confront it.
Cushman goes on to talk about ways that “cute little pictures of furry animals” are used to “sneak… homosexuality lessons into things with innocent sounding titles.” She references the children’s book And Tango Makes Three by Peter Parnell and Justin Richardson and illustrated by Henry Cole, which tells the true story of Roy and Silo, two male penguins at New York City’s Central Park Zoo, who adopt an egg in need of nurturing and hatch and raise their daughter Tango. I’ve read the book. It’s lovely. And for the children in my classroom who have same-sex parents, it made them feel a little more recognized and understood in the world, and for my students who came from families put together in other ways (and there are many ways to build a family), the book gave them one more way to understand what it means to be a family.
At the end of the day, it sounds like Focus on the Family thinks bullying is okay and books/furry animals encourage being gay. All of this is simply a crock of shit. And as I teacher I will proudly, adamantly, and unapologetically stand against bullying and utilize any and all books and resources (though not as likely cute fuzzy animals) to help my students understand the complex reality of the world around them. My intention is not to make Christians or others who don’t condone homosexuality or gender variance to feel unwelcome, but it is my responsibility to create an environment where all people feel welcome, valued, seen, and heard – including folks who identify as LGBTQ. Rather than censoring access to knowledge or promoting one idea of the world, my job is to help students and their families develop critical thinking skills that allow them to make their own life choices while honoring the freedom of others to do the same.
If you’d like to see the full video of the CitizenLink broadcast, it’s here (9min30sec). (Image from here.)
Through my work at Chicago Children's Museum I spent roughly five days a week last April and May (2009) documenting and helping to facilitate workshops for parents and professional development trainings for educators about the connections between play and learning. Our 'Communities at Play' team (or CAP, as we called it) set up short-term residencies in Chicago Park District buildings located in four Chicago neighborhoods -- Englewood, Humboldt Park, Pilsen, and Rogers Park -- and listened to what people had to say about play, its value, and the barriers they face in supporting children's play in their communities.
Then I spent from June to October (2009) analyzing all the data we had collected, merging it with data from online surveys the Museum had conducted between October 2008 and April 2009, and drafting the first version of what would become the "The State of Play in Chicago's Communities" report. After MONTHS of revisions and delays within the Museum, the final report is now available to the public. Yippee!
In some ways the final report is markedly different from what I originally wrote and I mourn portions that were taken out and language that was removed by editors who had the final say, but much of the report's core remains the same. If you would like to read the report, you can find it here (pdf). Also, all of the photographs of adults in the report were taken by me (as are the photos in this post).
It's nice to see that all the efforts put forth by the CAP team and participants is finally available to the world. Go read the report!
In my procrastination efforts I wandered over to Wordle. (Have you been there? It's fun.) On the Wordle home page it explains that:
Wordle is a toy for generating “word clouds” from text that you provide. The clouds give greater prominence to words that appear more frequently in the source text. You can tweak your clouds with different fonts, layouts, and color schemes.
Wordle is the brain child of Jonathan Feinberg, a software engineer at IBM Research, and I can't figure out how old the site/software is. But, I've been seeing these 'word clouds' reappearing throughout different venues of my life lately -- blog signatures, school event advertisements, wedding invitations -- and I realized by accident that they were all being created here.
So, I thought I'd give it a whirl myself and see what came of it. I inserted the text from the most current four page summary of my thesis work. Then I limited the word-count to 50 (rather than the standard 150), removed all author names, and changed my colors to black and white (my research is about ideologies of race after all). And after a bit of fiddlin', voilà! In all reality, I'm finding it helpful to have this visual tool. It's helping me see the language I am using most frequently and how those words correlate with themes and my areas of interest. I was surprised, for example, that 'social' is my most frequently used word. I would have thought it might have been 'race,' or 'white,' or 'privilege,' but it's helpful for me to see how really these are all relational terms in a social world. I could go on, but you get the point. What a helpful (and intellectually and aesthetically pleasing) software.
I had today off from work. While it's the first time I've been in a job in 10 years where I get holidays other than Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day off, I can't say I'm particularly happy to spend the my first holiday 'celebrating' Christopher Columbus. (I actually spent the day working on my thesis, but...)
Nu Heightz Cinema put out an important PSA earlier this week trying to open and extend conversation about the serious problems surrounding Columbus Day.
And for educators, Rethinking Schools put out a book called Rethinking Columbus back in 1991 that compiles essays, poems, interviews, historical vignettes, and lesson plans to help readers reevaluate the myth of Columbus and issues of indigenous rights. Definitely worth checking out.
We're in a sad, sick state of affairs in Illinois, and this is one of those situations where we CANNOT just sit on our hands and expect things to turn out well in the end. This is battle that needs champions fighting for our beliefs and our rights. Folks like you and me.
Here's the skinny:
On May 31, 2009 the Illinois General Assembly passed a partial year budget for FY 2010 that created a $9.2 billion funding gap, which is forcing drastic cuts in community- and state-provided fundamental social services ($5 billion in cuts for community-provided services and $4.2 billion in cuts for state-provided services, says Governor Quinn). (This issue is the "Current Focus" on the www.illinois.gov website.) We're looking at severe cuts in mental health services, addiction prevention and treatment programs, violence prevention programs, family planning services, child care and youth services, and education programs. The budget is set to go into effect July 1 (next Wednesday) and will be devastating to the people of Illinois unless we demand that our legislators return to Springfield and work out a budget for the full fiscal year that includes new revenue to support these critical programs in our communities (which can be achieved by a 2% tax increase).
When considering the breadth of the budget cuts, here are just a few of the numbers (and their sources) to give you an idea of how this budget vote could affect the every day lives of Illinois citizens. The budget cuts would result in:
the elimination of all community care program services for 20,000 lower-income seniors not eligible for Medicaid and reducing benefits for 55% of the remaining 35,000 Medicaid eligible community-care clients (Governor's Office - Department on Aging)
the elimination of the Communities of Color Prostrate Cancer Initiative and Communities of Color HIV/AIDS Initiative, together providing services to over 375,000 people (Governor's Office - Illinois Department of Public Health)
a 75% cut in state family planning funding, resulting in nearly 6,500 women not receiving their annual medical exam, pap smear, or supply of oral contraceptives. (Planned Parenthood of Illinois)
a lose of $9 million in funding to the YWCA, which would lead to the closure of 1/3 of their facilities (Planned Parenthood of Illinois)
the forced layoffs of more than 10,000 state workers (Governor's Office)
the estimated lose of $2 billion in federal matching funds to the state of Illinois (Governor's Office)
the endangerment of up to $3 billion in federal stimulus funds over the next two years (Governor's Office)
Brutal. And the potential to be utterly devastating. And, it can't go without noting the ways in which these budget cuts unproportionately affect folks already dealing with issues of systemic inequality: the poor and working-class, people of color, women, children, the elderly, and those will mental or physical disabilities. The budget would pile additional hardship and discrimination on those who already carry its heaviest weights.
And to make it a bit more real, if you need even more concrete evidence of the budget's destructive potential, every week for the past two and a half years I've hung out with three and four year olds at the St. Vincent DePaul Center, which provides (in addition to other things) NAEYC-accredited child care and early childhood education. We have 25 classrooms, serving infants through kids in full-day kindergarten, plus before- and after-school care for school age children. The proposed budget cuts would entirely eliminate the child care and youth programs, affecting more than 800 Chicago children and families at this one site alone. Plus, all of our education staff will be cut, contributing to the statewide increase in forced layoffs. Many families the Center serves will literally be forced into the position of choosing between buying food for their family, paying rent and utilities, or paying for child care.
The proposed budget cuts would destroy our Center, spit in the face of our 94 year history, and devastate the lives of families with whom we partner.
But such tragedy is not the only option. With the passing of an as small as 2% tax increase, the citizens of Illinois can save the programs that support our communities. A 2% tax increase would raise our taxes from 3% to 5%, which for the average Illinois family is roughly $14 a week. While $14 a week, and thus $56 a month, adds up, it is a worthy sacrifice to maintain the programs that support the health and well-being of all Illinois citizens. This budget cut stands to hurt all of us and together we must be willing to tell our elected officials that we won't stand for it, that we believe alternatives to the budget cut are possible, and that we rely on their leadership and ability to represent our views by funding education, health care, and human services across the state.
To take action, you have numerous choices. You can:
Call your state representatives and voice your opposition to the “General Assembly’s 50 Percent Budget Cut.”
To locate your state representative, visit here. (It's easiest, I think, to provide your zip+4.) You can also call the Illinois State Board of Elections Chicago Office at 312-814-6440. Let the operator know that you need contact information for your state representative. You will need to provide your home address.
Before calling your representative, consider visiting Illinois Action for Children for suggestions on what to say to your state representatives. You may also want to see how your representatives voted in the original budget vote, which you can do by looking at the "House Roll Call on the Tax Increase" (pdf). IMAN has also provided a nice telephone call protocol you could use. Here's their suggestion:
Call your representative and senator along with the governor and say:
"Hi, my name is ______ and I live in ______. I would like to speak to Representative ______/Senator ______/Governor Quinn."
You will probably be told that he/she is not available. If so, ask to leave a message:
"I am calling to ask Representative ______/Senator ______/Governor Quinn to work with others in Springfield to resolve the current budget crisis. I support an income tax increase from 3% to 5% and an expansion of the sales tax base in order to fund education, health care, and human services across the state. I am counting on your leadership in this important effort!Thank you for your consideration."
Please call your state representative (Illinois House) first and then call Gov. Quinn (217-782-0244) and your state senator all this week. Ask five other people to do the same.
You can also utilize a number of online email formats to voice your concern. Planned Parenthood of Illinois has an editable form letter that focuses on the budget cuts' consequences for women and children.
And the National Association of Social Workers Illinois chapter is sponsoring a more general but still editable email in which they use your address (or zip+4) to pull up all your elected officials' contact information. Then they allow you to choose to whom you would like to send your email. They also give you the option of sending a copy of your email to a large number of media organizations. It's a quick and easy way to go.
Please take action. Immediately. You can do it. It's important that you do it. It's makes a huge difference for the future of our communities.
(photo credits: These are some of my kids from the Center. These are the kids who stand to lose childcare if the budgets is implemented next week. The consequences to their families may be dire.)
i don't know what i am anymore, and i think that's just fine. i've returned to academia, taking the good with the bad. if you ask me what i do, on the bad days i'll say i'm a "slave to an instituationalized oppressive system." on the good, i'll say i'm a "student who is an adventurer in the art of learning" (P. Freire).
