tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67358183743260832922024-03-08T12:13:00.165-08:00Inciting ThoughtJessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-15575304568232596112015-04-08T06:18:00.000-07:002015-04-08T06:18:01.127-07:00Think About FearFear is powerful. It's manipulative, and advertisers love it. Why? Because fear sells. We spend money because of fear; we even dislike others out of fear.<br />
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Knowledge, though, can be more powerful than fear. Knowledge can make us less fearful by inserting reason into those nagging voices around us (i.e., society).<br />
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As I was thinking about this post and what I wanted to say, dozens of anecdotes kept coming to mind. I first thought of this past fall when the fear of Ebola spread like wildfire in the U.S., where, for most of us, there was very little risk.<br />
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I also thought of a recent excursion to the dentist where the dentist used a number of "scare tactics" in trying to coerce me into purchasing an appliance (for my mouth--not my kitchen!). While his reasons may have been sound, his sleazy salesman tactics led me to question his credibility; thus, I no longer felt as though he had my best interests in mind as a patient. For the discerning thinker, those kinds of tacks don't work; the discerning thinker questions and makes up her mind based on reason and logic, not fear.<br />
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I thought of the students whose fears of poor grades may cause them to cheat, thereby forgetting the reason for education.<br />
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And I thought of those whose fears of differences (of religion, race, lifestyles, etc.) cause them to kill or lash out in other inappropriate ways. </div>
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And, finally, I thought of a book I read several months ago, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saving-Normal-Out-Control-Medicalization/dp/0062229265">Saving Normal</a> by Allen Frances, M.D. Dr. Frances writes about the medicalization of normal life, manifested in the overdiagnoses/misdiagnoses of some (not all!) mental disorders/illnesses. Well researched and supported, Dr. Frances also bases his opinions on his experiences as a psychiatrist as well as his experiences with different editions of the <i>DSM </i>(<i>DSM-5 </i>is the most recent). This book also talks about, among other things, how, in marketing prescription drugs, the "worried well" are often targeted. Worries are often irrational in themselves. In other words, "worried" equals fear.<br />
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Fear.<br />
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People are afraid of <i>not</i> being "normal," when normal is actually illusive and arbitrary. There are many states of being, and not all of them constitute a mental illness (in fact, most of them do not). One of the calls-to-action that Dr. Frances presents is in asking patients to be smart consumers; patients need to use their critical thinking skills and educate themselves. (Knowledge can overcome fear here.) Based on what I've read and what I've experienced, patients cannot (and should not!) rely on doctors and the Big Pharma marketers to provide them with all the information they need. Even when doctors do have a patient's best interest in mind, they may still be unwitting pawns in Big Pharma's money-grubbing.<br />
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The take-away is this: Applied knowledge (e.g., critical thinking skills) can outwit fear. Don't jump on the bandwagon. Don't believe the hype (the media, the ads, etc.) and fall victim to fear's power. </div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-45489346801320992012015-04-03T10:47:00.000-07:002015-04-08T06:19:11.820-07:00Think About ChoiceThis article appeared in my Facebook feed sometime last week: <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/sexes/archive/2013/03/men-should-consider-changing-their-last-names-when-they-get-married/273718/?utm_source=SFFB">"Men Should Consider Changing Their Last Names When They Get Married."</a> I've never been a proponent of women changing their names upon marriage, so the article piqued my curiosity. However, my jaw about dropped to the floor (to engage in a bit of hyperbole...) when I read the first line of the article: "More then 50% of Americans think the woman should be <i>legally required</i> to take her husband's name in heterosexual marriages." What?!! Really?!! I wonder if these are the same people who think that women shouldn't have choices regarding their own reproductive health.<br />
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Because that's what it all comes down to: choice.<br />
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If a woman <i>chooses </i>to change her name when she marries, I certainly don't have a problem with that. I do, however, have a problem with people who think women <i>should</i> take their spouses' last name. In modern-day America, women are not their husbands' property. While, fortunately, I'm pretty sure that such a law would never happen, it's frightening to me that so many people think this way--"<i>legally required</i>"! Laws are created to protect people and to protect justice. Legally requiring (i.e., forcing) women to take their spouses' names--besides erasing much of the equal rights work that people have fought for tirelessly for hundreds of years--does nothing for justice.<br />
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<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-47839640658574661252013-12-01T08:18:00.001-08:002013-12-01T08:25:51.483-08:00Think About the Implications of So-Called "Black Friday"I heard on the news the other night that most "Black Friday" shoppers were buying items for themselves, not for others (at least in my local news area). While I question the accuracy of this kind of "statistic" (as well as the validity of the news reporting), it doesn't surprise me. It saddens me though. In the documentary film "What Would Jesus Buy?" (Google it if you're interested), there was this quote: "We used to be a nation of producers; now we're a nation of consumers . . . . a shopping-addicted country." This is not something to be proud of; this is NOT progress. More to the point regarding Black Friday--since, supposedly, the shopping is in preparation for Christmas--this is NOT what Christmas is about!<br />
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Although I loved the excitement of Christmas as a kid and started compiling 20-page wish lists for Santa earlier than I'd now like to admit, I never expected to get anything on my lists (and I usually didn't!). It didn't matter what I got for Christmas. It was the excitement of the holidays and spending time with family and extended family that I relished in. In fact, one of my most memorable presents was when I was five years old and my oldest brother sneaked into my room and took my favorite stuffed animal, wrapped it up, and gave it to me. (This prank actually turned into a running joke, and, for many years--even when I was in college!--we gifted the stuffed animal back and forth to each other: I'd give it to him on his birthday, and I'd get it back at Christmas.) Every year, then, I delighted in receiving something that I'd already had for years; I was delighting in the moment--the connection with my brother--and NOT in the item itself. When kids (and all people) start delighting only in the items themselves, as seems to be the case for much of America (evidenced by the Black Friday tramplings, stabbings, shootings, and spittings over waffle-makers and flat-screen TVs), there's something seriously wrong...<br />
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...Not to mention that, by shopping at chain retailers, your money is going into the wrong people's pockets and, thus, you are supporting a corrupt and unjust system. So, if you shop, SHOP LOCAL and INDEPENDENT stores, and support the people who deserve it!<br />
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That said, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! :-)Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-21656721528370731142013-10-27T14:59:00.000-07:002013-10-27T14:59:01.734-07:00Think About Marketing ImagesThere's nothing quite like sitting around on a Sunday and reading a bunch of sociology articles/blog posts to get a person all worked up about the state of our society. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who notices what's going on in the world of marketing and consumerism; and, on one hand, it was refreshing to read sentiments that echo my own, to know that I'm, indeed, not alone in my thoughts. On the other hand, though, it is incredibly frustrating to realize how many people passively accept these marketing tacks, particularly the ones that objectify women. <div>
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All it is is marketing; and, if you buy into it, you're supporting it: You're supporting the objectification of women. I don't care about Miley Cyrus. I don't care about twerking. I'm dumbfounded by the people who try to create controversy out of what she does. IT'S MARKETING! Let her do what she does. IGNORE HER. If you talk about it, even against it, you're supporting it. That's what "they" want. (Now, forget you read that because I don't want to be a part of the segment of the population who contributes to her popularity, both negative and positive.)<div>
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And while I'm ranting here.... When I was a kid, Halloween was about scary costumes; it wasn't about sexualizing 5-year-old girls. We made our own costumes. We were monsters, witches, devils; we were whatever we wanted to be. It's one thing if an adult woman chooses to be a "sexy devil"; it's quite another when costumes aimed at elementary school-aged children markedly indicate a difference between the devil costume for a boy and a (usually "sexy") devil costume for a girl. Then, there's this: <a href="http://thesocietypages.org/socimages/2013/10/25/tiny-the-pterodactyl-and-the-gender-ideology-of-halloween/">Boy Pterodactyl Costume</a>.</div>
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Make your own choices, follow your own instincts, BE CREATIVE, and, for crying out loud, don't let chauvinistic marketing ploys win (even better, don't let consumerism win--see the "BE CREATIVE" part above). </div>
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There, I think I"m done for now.</div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-47533070603462394422013-07-01T21:45:00.000-07:002013-07-01T21:47:20.082-07:00Think About Roots<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I love walking barefoot. I like the comfort of cool dirt
on my soles, and I enjoy the simultaneous scent of an evening's dusty trail as
it hits my olfactory unit, reminding me of summer camp as a child, when the
counselors would trek all of us kids down to the lake shortly before dusk. I
remember seeing the sun set through the trees, over the dock; I remember the
chill of evening after the swim, as I wrapped myself up in a beach towel and
longed for the warmth of my sleeping bag, although my feet . . . they weren't cold. </div>
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But what do bare feet have to do with one's roots, one's origin, one's connection to a place?</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p> </div>
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Everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After not having written much poetry for a few months, I
wrote a poem this past weekend. It flowed out in one extended pen breath, so
freely and quickly that I didn't even think about what I was writing until after
the words were already on the page. Then, like any studious English major, I
dissected it and looked for a deeper meaning, as if it weren't even my own poem.
While not an especially deep (or, probably, even good) poem, in it I saw that I
equated bare feet with freedom, motion, and contentment. The barefooted heroine
of the poem tells my story in this partial stanza: " . . . there isn't a
road / that can carry me back / to somewhere I don't want to be."</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I read those lines multiple times, hearing something
different each time. I played with word associations, and the first word that
came to mind was <i>roots</i>.
And I thought about a time when I wanted to be <i>from</i> someplace, to have a place to root myself--as if my identity
depended on it. After moving several times in my twenties, bouncing from state
to state to state, and from apartment to apartment to apartment to apartment
to. . ., I wanted to settle somewhere. I found a new town, a new job, and I bought
a house. Roots, I thought. And for a few years, it felt good to be in a
"permanent" place, to have ties to somewhere, to have stability:
Isn't that the so-called American Dream?<o:p></o:p></div>
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But at some point, it ceased being "home." It
wasn't a place I wanted to be <i>from</i>
anymore; it certainly wasn't a place where I wanted to have roots. And when you can't grow anymore in a place, when you've taken everything that a place has to offer, you know it's time to move on. That's what my poem was
telling me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That's when I realized that roots (of place, at least) are
a myth of sorts. I felt most at home in places where I was living "temporarily," with no intent of staying for more than a couple or three years. Those are the places I
miss, because I stayed just long enough but not too long. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And that's when I realized, also, that roots aren't where
you live; they aren't a place. They are, instead, your experiences, thoughts
and ideas, friends and family, and the imprint you leave on the world--what you
do to help others and make the world a better place to inhabit. Roots are you,
who you are, and the dreams you heed. Roots are your heart, if you follow it. Your roots are who you've been in the
past, who you are now, as well as who you're becoming. Because people are (hopefully!)
always changing, so are their roots.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, where am I from? The actual place of my roots--where my ancestors came from--is a country I haven't been to yet. Otherwise,
I'm not sure that I'm <i>from</i>
anywhere. I can tell you where I grew up, where I've lived, or where I currently live, but I'm not sure
that's the same thing. Where I live is just a rest stop on the way to
another rest stop. There are no destinations in life; there's only movement--motion--so one's roots will keep
changing, growing, expanding.<o:p></o:p></div>
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While I've always considered myself an intuitive and perceptive person, in the past six or seven months I've learned to listen even closer to my heart. Sometimes you just
know when something is right or, inversely, when something's not right. <o:p></o:p></div>
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"time to leave my shoes behind, / to let my naked
soles pray on hot asphalt, / to renew their calluses and faith in being, / to
let my dirt-caked feet catch fire, / and dance once again"</div>
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You just know.</div>
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-39313702431434423102013-06-23T20:37:00.000-07:002013-06-23T20:38:44.075-07:00Think About the Lessons from Walden Pond<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When I was about 20 years old, a poet friend told me that
I was an enigma. I probably looked a little dumbfounded, because he quickly added (presumably so that I would know it was a compliment) that it was a "very endearing
quality." He was quite a bit older than I was (of course, when you're 20,
anyone over 30 is "quite a bit older"), but it was one of those rare moments
in life when you feel like someone has caught a glimpse of what's inside you
and has understood, on a deeper level than most people, who you are.</div>
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That's what--and who--a poet is. </div>
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And I don't mean someone who
writes verse: You don't have to write verse to be a poet (likewise, one is not
necessarily a poet just because he or she writes verse). A poet is the person
who sees and understands the enigmatic elements in another person, and a poet
is also the enigma. Round and round, back and forth: This is why poets--thinkers, bohemians, artists, and other authentic selves--are drawn to each other.</div>
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And Henry David Thoreau was most certainly a poet. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I think that Thoreau's <i>Walden</i> is one of those books that people want to have read but
don't actually want to read. In eleventh grade, we had to read a snippet of an
already small snippet of <i>Walden</i> out of our literature textbook. It contained
the passage that most people recognize and equate with Thoreau:
"Our life is frittered away by detail. . . . Simplicity, simplicity,
simplicity!" We probably even discussed it for half a class period.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But how many people have read that passage and thought
about what it really means? How many have gone even further and actually applied it to their lives?<o:p></o:p></div>
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And why is that the only passage from <i>Walden</i> that
students tend to be exposed to in school? I typed out three (single-spaced) pages of my favorite
quotes from the book. I considered them "favorites" because I found
them thought-provoking and/or applicable to my life. Or I found them to be
things I think--or have thought--only not with as much clarity or eloquence as
Thoreau. Consider, for instance, his perspective on clothing: "As for Clothing, .
. . perhaps we are led oftener by the love of novelty and a regard for the
opinions of men, in procuring it, than by a true utility." Think about
this the next time you put on a skirt, dress, or pair of pants that doesn't have a pocket.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Another choice quote: "While civilization has been
improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who are to inhabit
them."<o:p></o:p></div>
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And his take on education: "We boast that we belong
to the Nineteenth Century and are making the most rapid strides of any nation.
But consider how little this village does for its own culture. . . . It is time
that we had uncommon schools, that we did not leave off our education when we
begin to be men and women."<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is surprising to me how so little changes in so much
time (about 160 or so years since Thoreau penned <i>Walden</i>) . . . especially when so much
has changed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thoreau writes that he is "convinced, that if all
men were to live as simply as I then did, thieving and robbery would be
unknown. These take place only in communities where some have got more than is
sufficient while others have not enough." How come this was not the passage
we discussed in eleventh grade English class?<o:p></o:p></div>
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But the reason I know, with certainty, that Thoreau was a
poet is because of the line he wrote for me (and for every other poet): "The one who
came from farthest to my lodge, through deepest snows and most dismal tempests,
was a poet. A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher, may
be daunted; <b>but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure
love.</b>" This, too, is what makes poets different.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">If you can get past Thoreau's periodic bitterness and arrogance, <i>Walden</i>
is actually a smart, occasionally humorous, readily accessible, and, perhaps
most importantly, relevant book. It should not be taken merely as literature, as
a crazy man's two-year living experiment in the woods. That negates its usefulness. It
should be read and considered as actual lessons for living.</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-1890849516797200512013-05-28T21:59:00.000-07:002013-05-28T21:59:17.037-07:00I'm Madder Than Hell and I'm Not Going to Take it Anymore...If you don't stand up for an injustice, then you're allowing it to continue. Silence is acceptance.<br />
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Why are people so afraid of upsetting the status quo? Why do so many people blindly accept what should be changed?<br />
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I'm appalled by passivity, just as I'm appalled by unfairness. Unfortunately, the two often go hand-in-hand. In fact, people often tell me to not "make waves." They give me varying reasons--not unfounded reasons, I'll admit--relating how my actions now will affect my future. This is true, but it also goes against my nature and what I believe: If something is unacceptable, if someone is treating you (and/or someone else) in an unacceptable manner, I think it's one's right--nay, one's duty--to stand up for oneself (and for those who may not have a voice). Doing so also affects one's future, but it affects one's present well-being, too. In the grand scheme of things, there is more at stake than, say, just a job reference. Change doesn't happen unless people "make waves," unless they disrupt the status quo.<br />
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Think of all the news stories and social media memes regarding people affected by bullying. While it's an overused word (in my estimation), it's a very real act. And it happens everywhere--not just in cyberspace or in schools. It happens in the workplace: Corporation as bully, management as pawns, silence as approval.<br />
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In ninth grade science class (and in homeroom), due to abhorrent alphabetical seating, an annoying kid sat behind me kicking and shaking my desk all class period, all semester (and, in homeroom, all year; but for as little time as was spent in homeroom, that was inconsequential). At first, I was fairly passive. I'd get to the class early and move his desk several feet away from mine. But as soon as he came to class, he'd either sit down and ram his desk into the back of mine or he'd slowly inch his way toward me (which was preferable--sometimes I'd have almost two-thirds of the class period free from his idiocy). Trying to reason with him didn't work either (as one might expect); instead, he added poking me with a pencil to his repertoire. Ultimately, I went to the teacher and asked if I could change seats. He wouldn't let me. (I did anyway, without permission, but my tormentor occasionally followed me.) Speaking up doesn't always make a difference, but at least you have the satisfaction of knowing that you've done something.<br />
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If you don't speak up at all, though, the bully--be it a person, a company, an organization, or a general unjust act or rule--wins. Triumphs, in fact.<br />
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Don't accept the unacceptable. Question. Speak. Act.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-24110208316798238372013-02-23T00:50:00.001-08:002013-02-23T00:51:24.432-08:00Think About Cultural Values and the Color PinkI greatly dislike the color pink. Maybe it's not the color so much, though, as what it represents. I hate that the color pink is equated with girls and all things female. And I want to know why that came to be, and I want to know why so many people buy into society's obsession with it, and--most of all--I want to know how it can be changed.<br />
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In a recent online discussion, a classmate of mine made a statement about cultural values (and their associations) being part of our "adaptive unconscious." Someone else asked when and how we learn our "cultural values." Yet another classmate offered that we begin learning these cultural values from the very beginning, when we are introduced, for example, to gender-specific color schemes and themes.<br />
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My classmate wrote it a little differently, but I read it and felt my blood start to boil. . .because my classmate was right. See, repetition normalizes certain ideas for us (both individually and as a society). We internalize them; we accept them.<br />
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No questions asked.<br />
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Therein lies the problem. It doesn't matter how illogical an idea is (e.g., pink for girls; blue for boys), we accept it and perpetuate the irrationality of it, simply because we don't know any differently and don't think to wonder why. Among other dreadful things, our culture seems to constantly be shouting that pink is for girls and blue is for boys.<br />
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But here's what I think: I think that if we don't understand something, we shouldn't blankly accept it.<br />
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A couple of weeks ago I set out to buy a birthday card for a 7-year-old boy. In the kids' birthday cards section, there was a distinct division between boy cards and girl cards. I honestly don't remember ever seeing such an obvious separation before. There could have easily--and logically--been just one sign for all the kids' cards. Instead, though, pink signs denoted the girls' cards section; blue signs denoted the boys' cards section. It was sickening. The girls' cards were mostly pinkish and "girly." The boys' cards were mostly shades of blue (some red) and "manly" (trucks, superheroes, trains). <i>Not one gender-neutral card! </i><br />
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I did not buy a card there. The boy I was buying a card for is a very smart and perceptive boy; and, last summer, I (inadvertently) taught him the word "sexist." So, he definitely deserved better from me than a card that perpetuates gender stereotypes.<br />
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I went to one other card shop. I took one look at the nauseatingly pink section and that blasted blue section and was out the door, dismayed at what our society has become.<br />
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Distinct boy culture and distinct girl culture seem much more defined now than they did when I was a kid. And there are many reasons for this, not the least of which are the prevalence of mass media and technology. Up there also is the consumer-driven materialistic culture we live in. I certainly had a lot of "stuff" when I was little, but being the youngest of four siblings, as well as the youngest of all my cousins, I had <i>a lot</i> of hand-me-downs, both in toys and in clothing. Additionally, my mom was fond of secondhand stores and garage sales. Up until I was a teenager, I had only been to a mall a handful of times, and I don't ever remember going to a (specifically) toy store. I was never exposed to this pink princess-oriented hoopla which seems so prevalent today. Did it exist back then? If not, where did it come from? How can we get it to go away?<br />
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And can we, <i>please</i>, just let kids decide what their own interests are without influencing them with market-driven ploys? Don't color-code the toy sections (or card sections). And don't gender-code. Certainly some girls will embrace the pink princess culture regardless, but when it's their own choice, that's acceptable. Let the child think for him or herself. Because a child who thinks for him or herself will likely become an adult who thinks for him or herself.<br />
<br />
And we could certainly use more of those around.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
I do have to confess that my favorite toy when I was little was a pink stuffed dog (whom, I must add, I considered to be <b>male</b>), but I didn't like him because he was pink; I liked him because he was a dog. That he was pink was irrelevant. (He also didn't stay pink very long--he was dropped in more than his share of mud puddles.)Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-30032726133226976482012-12-20T20:56:00.000-08:002012-12-20T21:20:35.434-08:00Think About the Fragility of LifeTwenty-one years ago today, one of my high school classmates was murdered. I was a 15-year-old tenth-grader sitting in <i>la clase de </i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">espa</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">ñ</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>ol</i> when the principal made the announcement over the PA system. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It was the last day of school before the holiday break. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I can feel the moment as if it were yesterday, the way the news hung in the air, the silence and shock that followed. I remember my fear and the sleepless nights. I remember the well-intentioned sentiments of those who told me I had no reason to be afraid because the suspects (one of whom had sat next to me in band the previous year) were in custody. But what they didn't understand (which I probably didn't understand either) was that my fear wasn't so much for my own life; my fear was at the finality of death, the suddenness of it. The then. The now. I remember the lump in my throat when I went back to school after the break and saw the empty seat next to me in the one class I had shared with the victim. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">You don't forget certain things. For me, it's usually the emotions of a moment and the clarity (or lack thereof) of thought that I remember. Sounds (certain songs, especially) and scents provoke memories and feelings. It's like time travel (for example: whenever I hear a Guns 'n Roses song, I'm suddenly in 8th grade again). </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">My mind goes back and forth between the past and present. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It's hard to believe it's been 21 years since my classmate was murdered. In fact, it seems </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">impossible</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> that it's been that long. But it also feels like it was a lifetime ago. And it was--it was</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> more</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> than a lifetime, in fact, for my classmate, who was only 16 when she was killed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whenever there is a tragedy--be it a school shooting, a natural disaster, or other loss or trauma (either personal or public)--I think of the survivors who will relive the event hundreds (or thousands) of times; it will shape the rest of their lives. They will grieve indefinitely and will keep progressing through life, remembering. Even if they forget momentarily, they'll always remember again. But how long will people not directly affected by the tragedy/loss remember? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I wonder why it sometimes has to take devastating events to remind us to think of and help others; to remind us of what/who is important; to remind us of those who are suffering all over the world; and to remind us, ultimately, of life's fragility. </span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-52500272229939784852012-12-16T22:37:00.000-08:002012-12-20T20:57:07.186-08:00Think About This...<br />
Every time I read a quote on Facebook (well, almost anywhere on the internet, actually), I'm skeptical about its attribution (and its accuracy). I don't expect people to cite their sources on social media (though it wouldn't hurt...); but, realistically, how does one, in fact, find out who actually said/wrote a particular statement? Is it even possible? (I know there are books of quotes (for every occasion!), but who's to say that those were documented properly to begin with?)<br />
<br />
In the book <i>Walking on Water: Reading, Writing, and Revolution</i>, one of author Derrick Jensen's epigraphs is thus: "If they give you lined paper, write the other way." He follows it up with this "attribution": "(I don't know who first said this. It might have beeen [sic] Ray Bradbury, William Carlos Williams, e.e cummings, or Juan Ramón Jiménez.)" I commend him for covering his bases: He lists all the options that come up if you google the quote. (Also, if you google it, there's a version which comes up as "ruled paper" instead of "lined paper.")<br />
<br />
Then, there's the current flurry of Facebook activity around the Morgan Freeman statement (regarding the Sandy Hook tragedy), which apparently he didn't say. Or...did he? What if the hoax alert is a hoax? And maybe it matters, and maybe it doesn't. I'm certainly not going to believe something or agree with something <i>just</i> because a celebrity says it anyway.<br />
<br />
These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-70446149516878240832012-11-18T18:31:00.001-08:002012-12-20T20:56:46.449-08:00Think About How You Know What You KnowI've never taken a creative writing class.<br />
<br />
Still, I consider myself a writer. A poet. A creative writer. If you ask me what I write, I'll probably say, "Poetry, mostly. Some prose...when I have time."<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong: I've taken plenty of writing courses. I have a degree in technical/professional communications; and I could probably write any number of informal essays, critical essays, or research papers in my sleep (although they probably wouldn't be very good...). I even make a little extra money from freelance technical writing...yet I tend to call myself a creative writer first. A poet.<br />
<br />
And I've never taken a creative writing class.<br />
<br />
This fact had never dawned on me until yesterday. This weekend I attended a writing festival at a nearby university. I go to writing festivals not just to learn new writing techniques, but also to get inspired and rejuvenated--to get the creative juices flowing. (Between work, grad school, and my on-the-side technical writing, my creative juices have all but dried up in the last few months.) It had been more than a month since I signed up for the workshops I would take this weekend, so it was kind of like opening a present when I checked in at Registration on Friday afternoon and received my personalized itinerary. Ah, yes. Not surprisingly, I had chosen a couple of poetry workshops--specifically, ones to help generate new ideas. But I also had chosen a workshop with the title "Creative Approaches to Teaching Grammar" and one called "The Overlap: Teaching Creative Writing and Developmental English."<br />
<br />
As expected, I found inspiration from the poetry workshops and even wrote a couple of (still rough) new poems, but the two aforementioned workshops also proved delightfully beneficial for me--energizing me with information that I can use for a school project I will be working on intensely this week (since I have time off for the Thanksgiving holiday...and since I've been procrastinating way too much for the last two months...). I learned about a teaching strategy called <a href="http://tantasqua.org/superintendent/profdevelopment/etraft.html">RAFT</a>, which lends itself nicely to my school project; and I learned about the fascinating similarities between teaching a creative writing class and teaching a developmental English class, both subjects that I am drawn to. (Literacy, in particular, is a subject I am passionate about; and my school project is about integrating reading and writing into teaching across the curriculum in order to develop fluent readers, writers, and critical thinkers.)<br />
<br />
As I sat in the Creative Writing/Developmental English workshop, the realization that I had never taken a creative writing class hit me. I wondered: So, how did I learn creative writing? Why do I (or, even, how can I) consider myself a poet/a creative writer when my formal education has all been on the other side of the writing spectrum?<br />
<br />
I started writing as soon as I was able to form sentence fragments (who are we kidding? I was five--I'm sure there were just as many fragments as sentences). At six, I declared I would be a writer. My first published "story" was a pleasant little number about how my dog threw up every time we took him for a ride in the car. I was in first grade, and my teacher "caught" me writing and asked if she could submit the piece to our elementary school "journal" (xeroxed pages stapled together, the desktop publishing of the early '80s). I went home and spent the evening revising and editing (I probably wrote three drafts!), thrilled out of my mind, adrenaline pumping. I can still feel the rush I felt, sitting at the dining room table, reading my piece over and over to my parents to make sure it was just right.<br />
<br />
And I never stopped writing. I still have all the notebooks I filled throughout elementary school and junior high, story after story, unfinished novel after unfinished novel, splatterings of poetry. Since my early twenties, I've immersed myself in writing communities, have attended various writing festivals/workshops, have read about writing extensively; and now I, more or less, rightly or wrongly, consider myself to have a strong creative writing base of knowledge.<br />
<br />
I've become a writer because I've written. I picked up tidbits along the way; I've learned from other writers. Apparently, I've learned by "doing" (proving John Dewey's theory?). One similarity (among several) between a student in a creative writing class and a student in Developmental English is that both will only improve their writing by writing. Good writing, bad writing, grammatically incorrect writing--it doesn't matter. Everyone has to start somewhere, and students learning to write--no matter what their interest or skill level--must write.<br />
<br />
I was surprised to realize that I had never taken a formal creative writing class, the kind where the teacher grades you; but, in many ways, I sort of have--I've just stretched it out over many years (and will continue to stretch it out, as knowledge and improvement do not have an end point...), and I've done it a little more unconventionally than some (as I tend to do many things).<br />
<br />
I think I'll give myself a B+.<br />
<br />Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-46455915077774687342012-09-09T18:05:00.000-07:002012-09-09T18:05:46.258-07:00Think About [insert trite catch-phrase here]This post is a mini-rant based <b>not</b> on political or religious leanings but, instead, on humanist logic. Everyone has a different meaning to attach to the phrase "family values," based on his or her own experiences. Thus, it is, more or less, a meaningless term. No one is going to sway me to believe a certain ideology based on the term.<br />
<br />
Here is something that has long bothered me: People throwing the term "family values" around as an argument against same-sex marriage. I am not gay, but I believe that everyone should have the opportunity to pledge an official commitment to another person. And that's what marriage is about: Commitment.<br />
<br />
What desecrates the sanctity of marriage is <b>not</b> same-sex marriage; what desecrates the sanctity of marriage is divorce. Don't get me wrong--there are definitely some legitimate reasons for divorce: abuse, for one. But I believe that the reason most people get divorced is because they should not have gotten married in the first place.<br />
<br />
To be sure, my own childhood and upbringing were ideal in many ways, and this has certainly influenced my opinion. My parents are still married (46 years so far...), and they provided a loving, secure, and stable life for my siblings and me. It is that loving, secure, stable environment that I would want my future family to have, too. While it is certainly true that my views are shaped by my experience, I believe that same-sex couples can offer that same loving, secure, and stable environment to their families. Again, it comes down to commitment. If commitment is being honored, then marriage's virtue is safe.<br />
<br />
Assuming I get married some day, I intend it to be for life. <b>That</b> is what that...that...(that horrible phrase)...means to me.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-75406118817226253132012-05-03T21:41:00.000-07:002012-05-03T21:41:27.928-07:00Think About Measuring Standards of KnowledgeI recently read an interesting article called "The SAT and the Assault on Literature" by David Ruenzel. The author--both a parent and a teacher--opines that, while preparing for the SAT, students stop reading books that are unrelated to schoolwork and unrelated to studying for the exam. Essentially, they stop reading for pleasure. His assertion is backed up with his experience. Without agreeing or disagreeing, I might take it a step further: Perhaps it's the whole atmosphere of the American education system--which has become what I would call a "testing nation"--that is creating the assault on literature (<b>and</b> reading and writing).<br />
<br />
I took the SAT because I had to. I didn't know--and didn't really care--what it was supposed to say about me or about my intelligence. In the long run, it probably didn't say much; and whatever it did/didn't say doesn't matter anymore anyway (if it ever did). In high school, I knew kids who studied for the SAT, and I knew kids who fretted about it. But I didn't do either. At least, I don't remember studying for it. Perhaps I did the weekend before or, half-heartedly, for the month before, but I don't remember it being a focal point in my life. I know I never attended any SAT prep courses. But, when all was said and done, I did well on it. A decent score. Nothing out-of-this-world-great, but I did better than several of the people I knew who had taken the prep courses and/or studied intensely for months. So, does that measure my knowledge? My problem-solving skills? My aptitude? Or, does it just say that I was lazy and could have done really well had I put any effort into it? Does it take into account that I was in mostly all honors courses, spending hours a night on homework, juggling several extracurricular activities--drama, band, and soccer--and that, for me, studying for another test seemed pretty pointless at the time?<br />
<br />
If you study just to take a test, what are you really learning? This is how I feel about the standardized tests that many teachers are required to teach to. "Teaching to the test" does not--in a lot of cases--help the student learn how to think critically or read closely. It is my understanding, though, that the SAT now has an essay component to it. This could be progress; I don't know enough about what the essay part entails to form an opinion, but certainly it measures at least a little more than how well you can fill in a little bubble with your #2 pencil. Because, the thing is, essays are a lot harder to study for: You really have to know the information...in most cases. (I actually B.S.'d my way through a number of essay exams in high school, getting "A"s and "B"s when, in reality, I had very little idea of what I was talking about. But perhaps writing B.S. skillfully is a measure of aptitude, too?)<br />
<br />
Generally speaking, though, essays require, at the very least, the ability to be able to form words, sentences, and thoughts. And, to me, being able to communicate effectively (and correctly) is crucial to a person's success (whether the rest of society thinks so or not).<br />
<br />
The one test I <b>did</b> care very much about in high school was the AP English exam my senior year. David Ruenzel asserted in his article that the<b> SAT</b> ruins literature for students? Well, our small class (6 or 8 of us) spent the year preparing for the AP exam by dissecting every inch of every piece of literature we read. It didn't kill literature for me; on the contrary, it made me appreciate it even more. (I'm not sure, though, if anyone else who was in the class would agree with me, so Ruenzel might have a point.) We had to read carefully and with understanding, and we had to think critically about what we read. We had to be able to carry over everything we'd studied all year--all those poems, all those stories, all those novels--to the exam and be able to write coherent essays, backing up every thesis statement with proof and, then, backing up our proof with proof.<br />
<br />
To me, there's a big difference between an essay exam and a filling-in-a-bubble test. When you're required to take information and pose it into an essay, you need to have some grasp--no matter how weak--of the subject matter (even if all you're going to do is B.S. your way through it). I remember what I learned in my AP class, and perhaps I never want to read <i>The Great Gatsby</i> again (including both high school and college, I had to read it for three different classes), but I did very well on the AP exam; furthermore, very few college (including grad school) classes I've taken have ever matched that class in difficulty.<br />
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I don't have any answers...at least, not any that can be neatly filled in with a #2 pencil. I can assert that essay exams are better than the standard standardized tests, and I'm sure I could find enough articles and books to back up my claim. But, ultimately, what does it mean? <br />
<br />
We still have students graduating from high school who can barely read and write. What they need is not necessarily a way to be tested and measured; what they need is a way to be taught. Does it really matter where we rank, how we compare to other students, teachers, schools? Yes, I'm sure it does, but maybe it shouldn't be the focus. And...if a student fills in all the bubbles of a standardized test correctly but cannot write an essay, how is that student's aptitude measured?<br />
<br />
Yes, there needs to be a way to assess students. But should the focus be on what they know <b>or</b> on what they don't know?<br />
<br />
---<br />
If you have any further interest in this subject, I'd recommend checking out <a href="http://rethinkingschoolsblog.wordpress.com/2012/05/03/the-results-are-in-theres-too-much-testing/">Rethinking Schools' blog</a>.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-19055266223973649162012-02-17T14:16:00.000-08:002012-02-18T08:33:08.032-08:00Think About Challenging the Status QuoThere's something to be said for tradition--it holds a feeling of comfort, of knowing what to expect; additionally, some traditions have specific purposes and special meanings. Tradition exudes stability and reliability. These are good qualities. <br />
<br />
One might say the same thing about the status quo.<br />
<br />
The saying, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," comes to mind. It's certainly not a bad motto, if applied to an appropriate situation. There's a TV commercial, though, that states (this may or may not be a paraphrase...) "if no one had ever questioned the status quo, the Earth would still be flat." While I couldn't tell you the product being advertised (I think it's a car...), that sentence sticks with me constantly, its bitty wisdom knocking at my brain. (I'm guessing that this was probably <i>not</i> the intent of the marketers.) <br />
<br />
How often do you question a tradition? How often do you question the status quo?<br />
<br />
How often do you ask "Why?" Do you accept that which is, simply because it's always been that way? Because it's safe?<br />
<br />
I read Andrea Batista Schlesinger's book, <i>The Death of Why?: The Decline of Questioning and the Future of Democracy</i>, last fall, and it got me thinking. It spurred me on a mission. I want to combat illiteracy, and I want to rouse the critical thinking skills that sit dormant in safe minds. I have ideas; I have thoughts. Mine is not a safe mind: I question. For instance, I wonder why there are so many high school graduates who cannot write a coherent paragraph, let alone an essay. I wonder why and I wonder how that happened. When my grandmother was in high school, she learned more than most people know even after they've graduated from college nowadays. She knew Shakespeare. <i>Silas Marner</i>. Latin. German. And her grammar was impeccable. I have many of her old grammar and literature books--notes written in the margins--and I'm in awe of the knowledge she possessed. Even in her 80s, she could still recite poems she had learned nearly 70 years earlier. She questioned. She thought critically. I know she did those things because they are evident in those notes in the margins of her old high school books. <br />
<br />
I had a number of teachers throughout my primary and secondary education who started the first day of class with this statement: "There's no such thing as a dumb question." (In actuality, I think what they <i>really</i> meant was that there <i>is</i> such a thing as a dumb question but that they wouldn't judge our questions openly.) It seemed standard practice to me. I learned to question; I learned to ask why. And when people approach me with, "This is a dumb question, but...", I tell them the same thing. Because even if it <i>is</i> a "dumb" question (which I've certainly asked plenty of in my life), questioning should be rewarded (<i>especially</i> in young people). In her book, Schlesinger's cause is to create educated citizens--people who understand that they have a civic responsibility to question policies and laws. People have a <b>responsibility</b> to question the so-called status quo. People have a responsibility to ask questions.<br />
<br />
The questions can start simple--questions about traditions, about society's expectations, about what one sees on TV, reads on the internet, or hears on the radio. For instance, why do people create New Year's resolutions that they'll inevitably break? Every January bookstores prominently display self-help books, weight loss books, and healthy cooking cookbooks. Why don't people just resolve daily to strive to be a better person? Why do they have to wait until January?<br />
<br />
Why do people give chocolates and/or flowers on Valentine's Day? Is it because society tells them they should? Is it because they're putty in scheming marketers' hands? Is it not enough to tell someone you love him/her? Is it not enough to show that person your love and respect with some other kind gesture...and not in the way that society dictates you do it?<br />
<br />
Do you question why you follow the latest fashions, buy the newest gadgets, or shop at certain stores? <br />
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Critical thinking skills are on the decline. Many people rely too much on what they read on the internet--without questioning, without fact-checking. There is so much information available. Retrieving it, though, is not the same as interpreting it. If people don't interpret, analyze, and assess what they read (or hear or see), what will happen with the future of the world? What is <i>already</i> happening? Schlesinger writes, ". . .having access to an infinite amount of information is meaningless. What matters is how we use the information that we happen upon, seek out, and are taught" (72-3). How <b>do</b> we (as a society) use this information?<br />
<br />
Questions beget curiosity. Curiosity begets creativity. Creativity is essential for coming up with possible solutions. "[W]e need. . .people to do more than vote and buy and click; we need them to question the systems that govern their lives. . ." (Schlesinger 153). Assuming that the world was flat wasn't harming anything or anyone, but look what we've learned since then.<br />
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Knowing an answer does not give a person intrinsic power, but asking the questions that can lead you there might.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Work Cited</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Schlesinger, Andrea Batista. <i>The Death of Why?: The Decline of Questioning and the Future of Democracy</i>. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2009. Print.</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-64347860752631257652012-01-15T16:29:00.000-08:002012-01-15T16:29:16.461-08:00Think About Social MediaI was a reluctant neophyte to the social networking scene.<br />
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I like to consider myself a non-conformist, but so do a lot of other people, which effectively defeats the point. It's just another label, anyway, and I'd prefer not to place a label on myself. I'm just me.<br />
<br />
Generally speaking, though, if the proverbial "everybody" is doing something or seeing a certain movie, I refuse to. I don't necessarily think everyone else has poor taste, but I want to form my own opinions and do or see something based on its merit, not its popularity. I've too often been disappointed when I've seen movies that multiple people told me I just "had" to see.<br />
<br />
There are exceptions, of course. I had refused to see <i>Forrest Gump</i> for a long time because "everybody" kept raving about it. I've always enjoyed Tom Hanks, though, and I also have a lot of respect for my parents' taste in movies. When they told me that I'd like the movie, I trusted them. They were right; I loved it. (Incidentally, I prefer not to see movies that have been adapted from books, unless I've read the book first. In this particular case, though, I read <i>Forrest Gump</i> <b>after</b> I saw the movie. The book, though, is so different from the movie that it neither affected my view of the movie nor tainted my enjoyment of the book.)<br />
<br />
So, before I joined Facebook, I mulled it over for months, with this singular thought running through my head: Am I being duped into joining? As silly as it seems now, I was so afraid that I was giving up something of myself. Like my dignity or my self-respect.<br />
<br />
Joining Twitter was easier. In my research of that medium, I read a number of articles about how essential Twitter is for a writer. Sure, you can connect with other writers/publishers/editors on Facebook, but certainly not in the same way you can on Twitter. <br />
<br />
As with most ideas, I like to take into consideration the views of someone "external" whom I respect, someone who carries weight as a kind of mentor. Yesterday I watched a short video clip of author <a href="http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22466">Margaret Atwood</a> expressing her views of social media. She offers an interesting perspective, as she sees social media as just an "extension of the diary" and as nothing different from anything we as a society were already doing, like sending letters to people. She even compares a tweet to a telegram. I found her <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/technology/story/2011/12/05/margaret-atwood-digital-twitter-publishing.html">point of view</a> fascinating. She is, especially, an enthusiast of Twitter and actually sees it as a chance to boost literacy. I must acknowledge that what she says makes sense. Much more than on Facebook, "tweeps" (Twitter peeps) read and share articles and information, regularly exercising their minds and entering into discussions. (I realize that this is not the main purpose of Facebook, so this is not meant as a negative comment. I know that each form of social media has its own motivation.) <br />
<br />
While I realize many of the merits of Facebook, I'm still hesitant. One part of me wants to ask, "Why do so many people want to share all the personal and often mundane details of their lives with the world?" But, the other part of me answers, "You idiot, that's exactly what YOU'RE doing." <span class="Latn">Touché</span>.<br />
<br />
When I first joined, I checked Facebook religiously. It's addictive--you sit on pins and needles waiting for people to post what they're going to eat for their 3 o'clock snack, how long it took them to shower that morning, and whether or not they've recovered from yesterday's root canal.<br />
<br />
For me, it quickly lost its luster, though, largely because of the poor grammar, punctuation, and spelling I kept witnessing (In case you didn't know, my nickname in both high school and college was the "Grammar Nazi." Dude, I take this stuff seriously!) It doesn't bother me as much on Twitter because when you only have 140 characters to work with, you have to give a person some slack. Same goes for texting.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">What really inspired this particular post on social media, though, was an online discussion in one of my classes (Teaching Literature). After muddling through 50 pages of a chapter on literary theory, I learned that literary theory, by definition, might not really exist. And, what about literature? How is it defined? As much as I love literature, you'd think that this would have been something I'd thought a lot about. I hadn't. My answer (in (very small) part) was: "Like Justice Potter Stewart on the definition of pornography, I say about literature: I know it when I see it."<br />
<br />
So, how does this apply to social media? Any learning, in my opinion, in order to carry weight, has to have some relevance (personal relevance, political relevance, social relevance, whatever, as long as it has relevance for the student). When we teach literature, perhaps we need to start with a prompt (intuition-based or not) and see what a particular piece means to a large scope of people. If relevance is what we need to get at, we need a broad (and diverse) scope of people to look at it. To this point, maybe social media/forums are the best ways to teach (and learn) literature. You get a wide variety of responses under the guise of anonymity. You reach outside of the classroom. Isn't that the fad nowadays anyway? (And I'm not using fad as necessarily a negative term here.) Learning doesn't (and can't) take place in a vacuum.<br />
<br />
So, my now-definitive conclusion about social media is that it is, in no uncertain terms, good for something besides displaying one's poor grammar and lack of proofreading skills: it's good for prompting discussions about "real" things in the world...like the social implications of literature!<br />
<br />
Perhaps this is precisely what Margaret Atwood was getting at.</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><br />
And that's all I have to say about that.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-31301873062162779732012-01-08T21:13:00.000-08:002012-01-08T21:13:52.487-08:00Think About CourageIt's hard to say good-bye. Even to an abstraction of time, such as a year. What does it really mean to say that 2011 is over and 2012 has begun?<br />
<br />
I'm not one for New Year's resolutions. I don't need to wait until the beginning of a new year to try to better myself. For me, it's a daily process, a weekly process, a forever process. As it happens, though, 2011 was a tough year for me for a number of reasons, and the unpleasant whirlwind began in January. Consequently, for most of the year, I struggled to center myself again and it seems that the end of December is when I started to find some sort of balance, or, at the very least, some kind of peace for myself. It's not solidified yet, but these things rarely are. So, despite my aversion to New Year's resolutions, it seems that as the new year has begun, I am also beginning again.<br />
<br />
Still, it's hard to say good-bye to a year that seemingly passed me by, as I merely went through the motions much of the time...just trying to get through each day. In my haze I often forgot to be thankful for all of the positive elements and people in my life, of which there are many; and I'm remembering to be thankful now. <br />
<br />
I see, in my memory, a collage of the many new friends I met this past year--smart, creative, unique people whom I'm fortunate to have crossed paths with. These new friends (along with my other already "established" friends...and family, too, of course) mean more to me than they probably even realize. (It's also amazing, by the way, how some small words of encouragement from people you've never met--but feel like you know anyway, merely because you're experiencing (or have experienced) similar situations--can make such a difference. My Twitter friends--you know who you are--I thank you as well.) <br />
<br />
And here's something I've learned: it takes <u>courage</u> to heal; it takes <u>courage</u> to live your life the way <b>you<i> </i></b>want to live it, the way you <b>need</b> to live it.<br />
<br />
In October I signed up for a Grand Canyon hiking adventure trip for the week between Christmas and New Year's. I couldn't easily afford it, but I knew I needed to do it, so I dipped into my savings. I needed to start the new year in a different way, in a way that would help me shake off the pain and sorrow of 2011. But signing up for a trip three months in advance is different than the looming reality of it when it's two weeks away. By mid-December, I was nervous. Taking a trip with a bunch of people I didn't know? What was I thinking?<br />
<br />
But I had also started reading a book called <i>Only Pack What You Can Carry: My Path to Inner Strength, Confidence, and True Self-Knowledge</i> by Janice Booth. Although it may sound like it, it's <b>not</b> a self-help book (I don't read those, on principle). Published by National Geographic, this book is part memoir, part adventure story, part geography lesson, and part history class. Booth, a travel writer, writes about her adventures as she combats her fears and finds the courage to be an active participant in her own life.<br />
<br />
Booth refers to courage as a muscle that gets strengthened with use. As a teenager I made a rule to myself not to avoid activities that I really wanted to do just because the prospect seemed scary. Shy and awkward back then [as now...], I convinced a friend to audition for the junior high play with me. I landed a part. I had always loved acting but, at the same time, I was terrified. Of what? Of being judged by my peers? Probably, but after I got the part, that supposed judgment didn't even matter. My courage muscle became stronger.<br />
<br />
Once you do something that's somewhat frightening, the next time it is not so intimidating. I acted in plays throughout high school; it was as natural to me as breathing. When I went out for roller derby a couple years ago, I was petrified. I loved it, though: the fast-pace, the danger, the intense workouts. I'm not dissuaded by physically demanding exercise: if you can do roller derby, you can do anything!<br />
<br />
After spending this past year just trying to keep up with the day-to-day, my courage muscle needed strengthened again. My trip to the Grand Canyon (just over a week ago) was amazing, possibly the perfect antidote. Five million people visit the Grand Canyon each year, and less than one percent make it down to the bottom (a smaller amount actually hike down, since some ride the mules), and now I am one of that small percentage of people who have hiked down to the bottom and back up again. <br />
<br />
And I'm ready to do it again.<br />
<br />
My courage muscle is flexed; bring on the next adventure!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-82217314306332877412011-11-21T21:45:00.000-08:002011-11-21T21:45:54.623-08:00Think About the Over-Commercialization of ChristmasAbout 12 years ago I was working at a job where 25 or 30 of us sat in a large room cataloging library books. Several of my co-workers repeatedly requested to have music play in the background, but this request was refused over and over again.<br />
<br />
Except at Christmastime.<br />
<br />
Much to my dismay, at some point around Thanksgiving, Christmas music started pouring out of the stereo in the corner. Some of you who know me personally are aware that I don't like Christmas music. At least not in every setting or all of the time. Listening to the radio makes it seem as though only a few songs exist and that most pop artists can only sing those tunes. So, in an eight-hour shift, one might hear the same song--albeit different versions--at least a dozen times. And, worse, they're all peppy little numbers with happy, unimaginative lyrics. The exceptions are the actual religious Christmas carols, which have meaning and purpose and, therefore, seem out of place in a retail or other basically secular environment. And, perhaps, these should be reserved for a private (home) or religious (church) setting? If you're going to throw Christmas music at me in a public setting, at least give me something creative like, say, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjaPXihbORk">the Kinks' "Father Christmas."</a><br />
<br />
So, when the Christmas music started at the aforementioned workplace, I told my "supervisor" [she was not my actual boss, but she spot-checked my work] that I was offended by it. She replied, "No, you're not; you just want to cause trouble." Well, she was mostly right (she knew me well). But I asked her, "What if I were Jewish?" She just rolled her eyes. <br />
<br />
The fact remains, though: I do not think Christmas music should be broadcast ruthlessly on the radio. And certainly not in November. What is this obsession with Christmas music? With Christmas, in general?<br />
<br />
And, lest I seem bitter and Scrooge-like, I must add that Christmas is actually my favorite holiday, but I like it for its true meaning. <i>Peace on Earth. Goodwill toward all.</i> Sound familiar? The commercialization of the holiday has gotten completely out of control. The true holiday spirit comes from giving something of yourself to others, and not necessarily in the form of a material object. It should come from the heart; it should have meaning.<br />
<br />
And the <i>true</i> holiday spirit lasts all year.<br />
<br />
Which is why one Christmas song I don't mind hearing all year round (as long as it's not played ten times a day on one tired radio station) is <a href="http://www.lyrics007.com/John%20Lennon%20Lyrics/Happy%20Christmas%20%28War%20Is%20Over%29%20Lyrics.html">John Lennon's "Happy Christmas (War Is Over)."</a> Because, really, wouldn't it be a merry Christmas for everyone if there wasn't fear in this world, if there wasn't fighting, if war really <i>was</i> over?<br />
<br />
Isn't that what's meant by "Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward all"?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-73629079046318745672011-11-05T19:19:00.000-07:002011-11-05T19:22:39.334-07:00Think About MarketingEach year, Christmas comes too early.<br />
<br />
It's supposed to be a joyful holiday, a celebration of Jesus's birth; but, instead, marketers create a depressing collage of commercialism. And like pawns in a board game, people fall for it, going to malls and superstores and spending money they don't have for things they don't need (and, often, don't even want). I avoid superstores, and I've been to a mall about twice in the last two years. I avoid shopping at all (except for groceries and other necessities), although I <i>will</i> support local/independent stores--if I have a need to buy anything, that is.<br />
<br />
The day after Thanksgiving is the day I do the opposite of what many people do. Instead of buying anything, I give stuff away. I'm currently in the process of sorting through my clothes, books, and other items. While I clean out my closets and shelves a few times each year, November is when I do my major "Spring cleaning" (I know...wrong time of year). Donating to a good cause (I usually take my items to the American Cancer Society's local Discovery [resale] shop) feels to be more in the "spirit" of the season than buying things. It's my mini-protest against the commercialism of Christmas.<br />
<br />
The marketing department at the company I work for sends out an e-newsletter every two weeks with what they deem note-worthy or interesting information. A couple of weeks ago one of these items was about retail giant Nordstrom and how it "will not be decorating its stores for this holiday season until the very end of November..." in order "to give its customers a chance to celebrate Thanksgiving with their families first." The newsletter blurb continues: "Whether this is truly the spirit of Thanksgiving in action or simply a genius marketing tactic is up for you to decide." (Note: I have not confirmed that this information is actually true. If I knew where a Nordstrom was, I might be curious enough to actually visit; but I'd rather hear from my readers. That way I don't have to go near a mall or shopping center--I break out in hives if I get too close....)<br />
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The cynic in me wonders why Nordstrom customers can't celebrate Thanksgiving with their families anyway, regardless of how the store is decorated. How would a store's decor affect that?<br />
<br />
<i>Is</i> it a marketing ploy? Is it a tactic to get customers in the store to see if it's decorated or not? If so, I don't want to fall for it.<br />
<br />
Even without shopping (at Nordstrom or anywhere else), I'm bombarded with Christmas everywhere I turn. Instead of putting me in a joyous spirit, it depresses me. I don't want to hear Christmas music yet. I don't want to see Christmas trees or festive decor. I'll be sick of it by the time Christmas actually arrives.<br />
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Call me Scrooge, but it's marketers who have ruined this holiday for me.<br />
<br />
Bah-hum-bug. Pass the eggnog.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-91208989068976141012011-10-28T21:28:00.000-07:002011-11-21T21:50:17.143-08:00Think About Education, Part 3Syndicated columnist Kathleen Parker had an interesting piece on October 4, 2011. In the <i>Toledo Blade</i>, the heading for the article was "It's time to put 'education' back in higher education." Naturally, my interest was piqued.<br />
<br />
Everyday at work I see college students who lack the motivation and necessary thinking skills to complete their education. But the "problem" is that they <i>do</i> graduate. Parker writes: "A study published by the Association of American Colleges and Universities found that 87 percent of employers believe that higher education institutions have to raise student achievement if the United States is to be competitive in the global market. Sixty-three percent say recent college grads don't have the skills they need to succeed. And, according to a separate survey, more than a quarter of employers say <i>entry-level writing skills are deficient</i> [my emphasis]." None of this surprises me. What surprises me is that it is taking other people so long to realize it. But, actually, that doesn't surprise me much either--we're talking about critical thinking skills here, skills which many Americans don't possess.<br />
<br />
Ah, yes, critical thinking skills. My final research paper for one of my grad classes this semester is about the education system and critical thinking skills (Are you surprised?). Parker states, "...the consensus is growing that young adults aren't being taught the basic skills that lead to critical thinking."<br />
<br />
Duh.<br />
<br />
Parker is only concentrating on <i>higher</i> education though. While it's true that higher education needs some work, the problem starts much earlier than that. Poor higher education is inevitably a result of poor primary and secondary education. Colleges have had to lower their standards in order to accommodate students who have graduated from high school without the basic reading, writing, and thinking skills.<br />
<br />
I link reading, writing, and critical thinking together. Students aren't reading <i>or </i>writing at high enough levels. Teachers are teaching <i>at</i> them and testing them, but the teachers are not giving the students the time to actually learn and apply what they've learned. English is a subject that crosses all disciplines. While grammar and language mechanics can be taught as a separate subject, reading and writing are part of every subject. Students learn best when they can research a topic of interest, write about it, and apply it to their own lives. That way their reading, writing, and critical thinking skills are challenged. Unfortunately, though, their learning is stunted when they are pushed through subjects, tested, and moved quickly on to something else, memorized facts soon forgotten.<br />
<br />
So, while Kathleen Parker makes some valid points about higher education, she's missing the mark. The problem is in the K-12 grade levels. And, if those problems get resolved, perhaps higher education will begin to fix itself. Instead of searching for ways to "dumb down" the curriculum, professors will be able to challenge their students.<br />
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What a wonderful world that would be.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-81207738149177268582011-10-24T21:31:00.000-07:002011-11-21T21:50:41.168-08:00Think About Education, Part 2Graduate school takes up a lot of time.<br />
<br />
That is <i>not</i> a complaint.<br />
<br />
(It <i>is</i>, however, an excuse for why I haven't posted in a long while. And, if this post seems a bit simplistic, lopsided, or disjointed, it's only because my brain is taking a break from analyzing and synthesizing sources for a research paper--I've sifted through and skimmed over 50 articles and books in the last three days.)<br />
<br />
So, yes, I'm having to work hard to maintain "A's" in my classes, but I love the challenge. In fact, this is how I thought undergrad would be. But, really, the last time I had to work this hard was in high school.<br />
<br />
So, what does that mean? Does it mean I went to "easy" colleges (I attended several before graduating)? Does it mean I went to an academically competitive high school? (I didn't.)<br />
<br />
Perhaps it just means that my teachers in high school adequately prepared me for the college environment, as teachers should. Granted, I was in "honors" and "college prep" classes. One of my English teachers, in particular, pushed and challenged me for most of my high school career. (Maybe it's no surprise that I'm an English major?) <br />
<br />
College is not difficult to get in (depending on the institution, of course; there are always exceptions). But didn't it used to be? Colleges used to have standards. Kids spent weeks fretting over essays; they spent years making sure their names were on the honor roll. For some--at least at my high school--it seemed that they spent 12 years studying, just to get into college.<br />
<br />
Online college classes (how I ultimately earned my bachelor's and the way I'm taking my master's classes) work great for me. A student takes the educational reins and, in some ways, teaches herself in an online class--you can learn as much or as little as you want; the instructor merely guides you, gives you deadlines, and grades your papers. I've been able to learn more in an online "classroom" than I ever did listening to a typical college lecture. Now a little over halfway through my first semester of grad school, I've realized that the greater expectations and the higher caliber of student I've encountered this time around is what I always expected--but rarely, if ever, saw--in an undergrad class, online or otherwise.<br />
<br />
Which leads me to a question I've thought about many times: is college meant for everyone?<br />
<br />
Should colleges "dumb down" their standards and curriculum so that they can let more students in? <br />
<br />
In doing research for a paper a couple of months ago, I was reading articles in an online journal called <i>OPEN WORDS: Access and English Studies</i>. The journal is intended for higher education English instructors and, in particular, those who work with students with disabilities. The articles talked about ways instructors can work with/address these students. When I started reading <i>OPEN WORDS</i>, I assumed "disabilities" was referring to learning disabilities. In at least one article, though, the authors stated that the term can refer to a variety of things--it could be a physical handicap or an "invisible" disability--a psychological or mental disorder, for instance. It could be a chronic illness. It could be a language barrier. Anyone who strays from the norm.<br />
<br />
Which leads to another question: what is the "norm"? <br />
<br />
Not everyone should go to college. Not everyone needs to. But anyone who has the desire to learn should have the opportunity to do so, regardless of any disabilities. (I'm not talking financially here; I'm strictly referring to skill and drive.) Working in a university bookstore, I'm privy to some of the ins and outs of certain students' skills, and I've seen a number of students in college who are there merely because somebody else is paying for them to be there. They are unable (or unwilling?) to string basic sentences together, they are unaware of what is expected of them, and--perhaps, worst of all--they don't care.<br />
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While all students who want to attend college should have the opportunity, there still need to be standards of some sort. Students ("disability" or not) may need to consult a tutor or work with the professor out-of-class. Otherwise it can be disruptive for students who have been academically prepared for college to sit alongside other students (whether they're "differently-abled" or not) who cannot follow directions or listen, and who do not care.<br />
<br />
I know the United States' public education system is broken. It works for some but not for others. Colleges have to cater to a wide variety of abilities and preparedness in their students. But standards tests are not the answer; it is clear that they do not work as intended.<br />
<br />
If the system ever gets mended, perhaps colleges can challenge students in a different way? Maybe the colleges will stand for education and learning once again. Maybe they will stop emphasizing sports over education (maybe, but not likely...). Maybe they will stop following the dollar signs and look to the future of this country. This country--the world, actually--needs thinkers. If they aren't challenged in a meaningful way, students will not think. I've mentioned critical thinking in several posts before, but it can't be emphasized enough.<br />
<br />
Many Americans' deep thinking abilities have begun to stagnate. Students should come out of an educational setting raring to think and do--to make a difference. College or not, it doesn't matter.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-67695639737531636962011-09-27T15:09:00.000-07:002011-09-27T15:09:02.992-07:00Think About PeaceDo you think about what's going on in the world?<br />
<br />
Or do you live in a comfortable, safe place--white picket fence, blue sky, sunshine, cheap beer?<br />
<br />
I'll be honest with you: I'm guilty--guilty of living in my own little world (and in my own little head). Right now I have so many personal issues to deal with that it's especially hard for me to even remember that there's a larger world that exists outside of myself. It's sad. And I know this. I need to be reminded. Not all of us do, but I do.<br />
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I am part of an online community called Twitter (you may have heard of it...? :-D). Today, like every Tuesday, is #AfghanistanTuesday. To me, it's a reminder to get out of my comfortable (or, in my case, uncomfortable) shell and think about what's going on in the rest of the world. What I especially like about Twitter is the connections I've made with people all over the world--I get perspectives from individuals from many other countries and read blogs and articles that my "tweeps" deem important or, at the very least, worthwhile. For me, #AfghanistanTuesday is not just about Afghanistan. It's about peace worldwide. It's about building a community of people from different backgrounds and cultures (albeit virtually) to share thoughts and ideas--to discuss and debate.<br />
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I don't understand why--and I'm paraphrasing a bumper sticker I once saw--people kill people to show that killing people is wrong. One of my tweeps remarked that fighting occurs because of greed. Government. Money. Oil. Corporations. Corruption. Greed. War.<br />
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I am not agreeing or disagreeing. I have too little knowledge to expand on the reasons for national and international conflict. I speak solely from a humanistic point of view. One of my favorite poems is <a href="http://librarydoor.gfsd.org/bates/war_poetry.htm">"Norman Morrison"</a> by Adrian Mitchell (if you go to the link, it's the second poem on the page). It was written in protest of the Vietnam War/Conflict, and it's a hauntingly powerful poem. I first read the poem nearly 18 years ago, and the lines I've never forgotten are "He burned. He suffered. / He died." I'm not making a judgment as to whether Norman Morrison was right or wrong to do what he did, but the poem draws awareness, even decades later, to what was happening in Vietnam--that burning women and children was wrong, that burning <i>anybody</i> is wrong. It seems to me that if we could all adopt a more humanistic approach to the world and those with differences, we could get closer--instead of further--from peace. Obviously that's a little too simplistic, but isn't it a start to acknowledge and value each other as human beings? To value each person's differences? Is it too much to ask?<br />
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In high school I had to write an essay with the following theme for a contest: "Peace Is More Than the Absence of War." I don't remember what I wrote (I know I didn't win); but I could add now that, yes, peace <b>is</b> more than the absence of war, but eliminating war would be a good place to start.<br />
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Wouldn't it?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-45152853008880714332011-09-15T19:38:00.000-07:002011-10-16T20:57:34.938-07:00Think About Libraries, Part 2You've probably heard this phrase (or similar wording) before: If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention.<br />
<br />
There are a lot of people not paying attention.<br />
<br />
In the latest <a href="http://www.toledolibrary.org/alerts/newsletterFall2011.html">Toledo-Lucas County Public Library e-newsletter</a>, the library director writes that the Toledo [Ohio] Public Library system "continues to see major increases in customer use. Last year, nearly 3 million visitors, more than any other Lucas County institution, visited one or more of our 19 library locations, while checking out over 6.9 million items." Access to books, computers, <b>information</b> in general, is essential to human development. Not all households have computers or internet access. Not all households have books.<br />
<br />
Children who do not have early access to books start falling behind in their formal education before they even start school. According to the <a href="http://lincs.ed.gov/publications/pdf/reading_pre.pdf">National Institute for Literacy: The Partnership for Reading</a>, by age three, children should be able to recognize books by their covers, they should pretend to read books, and they should understand how to hold books and how to turn their pages ("print awareness"). They should understand what words are. Even when children are only a few weeks old, they benefit from being read aloud to. Those first few years of a child's life are critical for learning to read. When children are read to often and in a positive environment, reading becomes a pleasant experience. Children learn about print, words, "book language," and the world. It's also important for young children to see others reading--newspapers, magazines, books. It helps them grasp the significance of reading. And reading IS significant.<br />
<br />
If parents or guardians do not have access to books or if they cannot read, the children are the ones who suffer. Many libraries offer programs that can help. Or, at the very least, it costs nothing for a parent to take a child to the library. For this reason, libraries are one of the most important public institutions in this country.<br />
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But here's the thing: "Although demand and usage is high, unfortunately <b>since 2001 state funding for public libraries has continued to drop</b>, prompting TLCPL [Toledo-Lucas County Public Library] to spend less on materials...."<br />
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The TLCPL e-newsletter goes on to tell about the job search and computer skills programs that are available for FREE at the main branch library. This career service is highlighted with one patron's <a href="http://www.toledolibrary.org/pageselector.aspx?24010#JobSearch">personal story</a>. Read her story, and you'll see that public libraries clearly make a difference.<br />
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And if we're not doing something to make a positive difference (directly or indirectly) in someone's life, what are we here for?<br />
<br />
Are you outraged yet? <br />
<br />
-----------<br />
On a semi-related note, I highly recommend the book <i>Readicide: How Schools Are Killing Reading and What You Can Do About It</i> by <a href="http://kellygallagher.org/index.html">Kelly Gallagher</a>. I read it a couple of years ago and consider it one of the most important books I've ever read. Check it out at your local library!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-33012296511387257222011-08-14T18:00:00.000-07:002011-08-14T18:00:35.816-07:00Think About LibrariesThere are a number of problems in the United States: dysfunctional governments, failing public education programs, problematic justice systems, and an unmanageable national debt...to name just a few. These aren't new issues.<br />
<br />
We Americans have gotten cocky, thinking that because we were once the "greatest" country, we always will be. Writes poet Charles Simic in a May, 2011, article, <a href="http://www.nybooks.com/blogs/nyrblog/2011/may/18/country-without-libraries/">A Country Without Libraries</a>: "[Our nation] no longer has the political will to arrest its visible and precipitous decline and save the institutions on which the workings of our democracy depend." He's referring to the large number of public libraries that have been closed down all over the country. When I was visiting Pasadena (CA) earlier this summer, I was saddened to see the large empty building that used to be a Borders bookstore. But Borders Group, Inc. is a corporation--I have very little sympathy for corporations. Libraries, on the other hand, are a public necessity. A closed-down empty building is sad, but an empty library is a crime. Not illegal, but it should be. <br />
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Libraries are part of many of my fondest childhood memories. Whenever I picture my elementary school, my mind's eye goes directly to the library. I remember it as the most well-lit and friendliest place in the school. Rainy days made the rest of the school seem dreary. Not the library though. <br />
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In the summers, it seemed like I spent much of my time at public libraries, in my own city and in the towns in Iowa and Indiana where either set of grandparents lived. I inhaled books, sometimes several "chapter books" a day. Encyclopedia Brown. Nancy Drew. <i>The Mouse and the Motorcycle</i>. <i>Aldo Applesauce</i>. And Ramona Quimby, of course. And that's just off the top of my head.<br />
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I was in awe when Stan and Jan Berenstain (of <i>Berenstain Bears</i> fame) came to our public library when I was five or six. These were the writers/artists who created the bears that I felt I knew as though they were my real friends! Brother Bear and Sister Bear went through the same things--first days of school, new friends, etc.--as I did. Meeting their creators was inspiring. A couple of years later, author Daniel Pinkwater came to the library. Another year, it was author Marc Brown.<br />
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My first semester in college was a disaster. I was several states away from home and had a roommate who disliked me to the point of making my world as miserable as possible. I spent almost all of my time in the college library, only returning to the dorm to sleep. I read constantly--it was my only means of escape. (As a result, I also aced that semester!) <br />
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Fast-forward to the late '90s, living on my own, after college. I had an apartment that was freezing in the winter and way too hot in the summer, but I could walk the three blocks or so to the public library. And that's exactly what I did almost every other day after work. I decided right then that I always had to live within walking distance to a library (and, except for one lone year, I always have).<br />
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When I read Simic's article, I realized I was not alone in my sentiments. He states: "Like many other Americans of my generation, I owe much of my knowledge to thousands of books I withdrew from public libraries over a lifetime." I am not of Simic's generation, but I concur with his statement. If libraries continue to close due to lack of funding, what will happen to current and future generations' wealth (or poverty?) of knowledge?<br />
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As I've mentioned in previous entries, I started this blog in part because I have observed that people (in general; Americans, in particular) are getting stupider. It seems as though we've let the generations before us do all the work, and now we are coasting along as if everything is peachy--never bothering to analyze situations, think independently, take a stand, or act ethically. Obviously I'm generalizing, and I'll never claim to know the way to correct our broken systems. All I know is that we need to think about what is wrong, take a stand against unethical practices, and do something to make a change.<br />
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Writing and thinking are what I know how to do. <br />
Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-87091623137350937502011-07-19T21:00:00.000-07:002011-07-19T21:00:52.001-07:00Think About AdvertisementsA few weeks ago I read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Culture-Jam-Americas-Suicidal-Binge--/dp/0688178057/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1310942806&sr=1-1"><i>Culture Jam: How to Reverse America's Suicidal Consumer Binge--And Why We Must</i></a> by Kalle Lasn (founder of<a href="http://www.adbusters.org/"> Adbusters</a>). I had picked the book up in a used bookstore about five or six years ago, and it was already "old" (as far as books go) then. But what I found amazing was that, even though this book was published in 1999, it was not outdated in its content. In fact, it is even more applicable now--in 2011.<br />
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We have become a society of consumers who think their electronic gadgets need to be updated yearly (or even more often), their cars need to be replaced every two or three years, and their clothes need to jive with the latest fashion magazines. We're a throwaway society (also called "planned obsolescence"), a society heavily influenced by advertisements. We're a society that is not made up primarily of individuals but, instead, a bunch of robotic people who dress, talk, and think the same thoughts. (See previous post, <a href="http://inciting-thinking.blogspot.com/2011/07/think-about-thinking.html">Think About Thinking</a>.)<br />
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This may sound obvious, but the big problem with the conformity in our society is its resulting lack of diversity. As self-evident as it sounds, those of us who fall for the marketing schemes do not seem to realize the potentially devastating outcome(s). Lasn writes: "Cultural homogenization has graver consequences than the same hairstyles, catchphrases, music and action-hero antics perpetrated <i>ad nauseum</i> around the world. In all systems, homogenization is poison. Lack of diversity leads to inefficiency and failure. The loss of language, tradition or heritage--or the forgetting of one good idea--is as big a loss to future generations as a biological species going extinct" (p. 26). If we all try to look alike, dress alike, and talk alike, where are new ideas going to come from?<br />
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For my part, I do my best to say "no" to "planned obsolescence." About three years ago I got rid of my 1989 Ford Tempo, a car I had been driving since high school. I literally drove it as long as I safely could. Now I drive a 1996 Taurus, which feels like a luxury to me. It's a good car, and I also plan to drive it as long as I can. Personally, I'm not impressed by people who drive new cars. I'm impressed by people who stray from the norm. If "everyone" has something, I admire the person who doesn't. Of course, I also have to be realistic: I could not be posting this blog if I were using a typewriter, and I might even have trouble if I were still using a dial-up connection. It's true that sometimes we have to change as the world changes. I'm trying to retain some semblance of individual thought, though, and it's often not easy to do.<br />
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To show how swayed our American culture is by media, Lasn compares an audience of a sitcom to Pavlov's dogs: "[Y]ou laughed because some network executive in a corner office in Burbank gets paid $500,000 a year to make sure you do. You laughed in the same places that the live studio audience laughed, give or take a little after-the-fact digital modification. The bell rang and you salivated" (p. 38).<br />
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Do you like being manipulated like that?<br />
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As a society, we are indeed being manipulated, and the marketing is, literally, everywhere we turn. Corporations are deciding our lives with their advertisements. If you want to be an individual and think for yourself, you have to fight back. Writes Lasn, "America, the great liberator, is in desperate need of being liberated from itself--from its own excesses and arrogance. And the world needs to be liberated from American values and culture, spreading across the planet as if by divine providence" (p. 61).<br />
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I've gotten into the habit lately of dissecting television and radio commercials and newspaper/magazine ads. For the most part, what I've found is appalling and, while there is always a lot of focus on the negative portrayals of women (and still nothing seems to change...see the post <a href="http://inciting-thinking.blogspot.com/2011/03/think-about-images-of-women.html">Think About Images of Women</a>), the advertisements aren't just negatively stereotyping women. Nobody is immune to the pigeonholing.<br />
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I urge you to think about what advertisements are telling you. Look at how people are portrayed (men, women, children, different ethnic groups). Think about turning the TV off, reading a book, and making your own decisions.<br />
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Think about starting a revolution of individual thought. <br />
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And that's what "culture jamming" is: a revolution of sorts. To me, it's a revolution to take back individuality. Check out the <a href="http://www.adbusters.org/">Adbusters</a> web site to learn more. <br />
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Also fascinating is the article/video, <a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/06/14/137175622/this-is-your-brain-on-ads-an-internal-battle">This is Your Brain on Ads</a>, which explores the science behind advertisements (neuromarketing) and shows just how aware a person needs to be in order to not get sucked into the consumerism game.<br />
<i> </i>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6735818374326083292.post-2269990875426252282011-07-03T12:47:00.000-07:002011-07-03T19:44:45.359-07:00Think About ThinkingI started this blog, Inciting Thought, in part because, based on many (but certainly not all) of my interactions with people, I've come to the conclusion that society (generally speaking) has lost--or, is losing--the ability to think. Some possible contributing factors: the United States' education system, the influence of mass media, and a general narcissistic attitude.<br />
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When I read <i>The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains</i> by Nicholas Carr (which I also referred to in <a href="http://inciting-thinking.blogspot.com/2011/05/think-about-solitude-part-2.html">Think About Solitude, Part 2</a>), I realized that the problem runs much deeper than I had originally thought, and much of our thinking problem has to do with internet and technology usage. Our brains are literally changing, and there's no easy way to reverse what's happening. Carr writes: "Experiments show that just as the brain can build new or stronger circuits through physical or mental practice, those circuits can weaken or dissolve with neglect.... The mental skills we sacrifice may be as valuable, or even more valuable, than the ones we gain. When it comes to the quality of our thought, our neurons and synapses are entirely indifferent. The possibility of intellectual decay is inherent in the malleability of our brains... [T]he farther we proceed down [the paths of least resistance], the more difficult it becomes to turn back" (p. 35).<br />
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Scary.<br />
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Terrifying, actually.<br />
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The more time and energy that we spend on the internet or using our i-gadgets--checking email, Facebook, Twitter, and/or texting, etc., the less time we spend in a quiet space reading (or writing) for an extended amount of time. According to Carr, in the "undistracted reading of a book, people made their own associations, drew their own inferences and analogies, fostered their own ideas. They thought deeply as they read deeply" (p. 65). Now, even when we do read deeply, "we do so in the busy shadow of the Internet." Already in 1997, literary critic George Steiner noted that "the silences, the arts of concentration and memorization, the luxuries of time on which 'high reading' depended are largely disposed" (pp. 110-111). Carr states that, while it's possible to think critically while reading on the Internet, it's "not the type of thinking the technology encourages and rewards" (p. 116).<br />
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Carr further cites how reading and writing skills are declining. Between 1992 and 2005, literary reading aptitude dropped twelve percent (p. 146). And, as our reading and writing skills decline, so do our critical thinking skills.<br />
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And, then, as our critical thinking skills decline, we become more and more a society of robots...or cookie-cutter cookies, whichever metaphor you prefer. I would argue that self-actualized people know how to think deeply, but when I see so many young people (it's not just young people, but they are the most susceptible) wearing the same clothes, sporting the same hair-styles, talking in the same manner, listening to the same music, etc., I question how self-actualized they really are. It is difficult for one to have a healthy and successful relationship or marriage without truly knowing and loving oneself first. I would even argue that these lack of critical thinking skills are partly responsible for the high divorce rate in this country.<br />
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Ever since our reading, writing, and thinking skills have waned--most notably, since the mid-'90s--I've also been aware of a decline in "feminist" (I use the term loosely) thought. I'm not talking about a "men are scum" mindset; I'm talking about women and equality. I'm talking about women feeling good about being women and about women being independent people (not dependent on men). I'm talking about making sexist remarks and stereotypes of women disappear.<br />
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If any of you are familiar with <a href="http://peggyorenstein.com/blog.html">author Peggy Orenstein/her blog</a>, <a href="http://www.poweredbygirl.org/">PBG</a>, or <a href="http://hardygirlshealthywomen.org/">Hardy Girls Healthy Women</a>, you are familiar with what we--meaning: the above people/groups and any other woman who thinks deeply about the images and issues surrounding her--thinking women are up against. People and organizations such as those three, which try to combat the disgraceful commercial images that stereotype and/or degrade women, are few and far between. <br />
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Encourage the females (I'm focusing on females, but, actually, this applies to males as well) you know to think critically and deeply, to read deeply and often, to learn about themselves and the world, to be unique and independent individuals. I see so many young (let's say under 25, give or take a few years) women who "relationship-hop," thinking they always need to have a boyfriend. But one cannot easily learn about herself when she's always connected to another person. People change. I know with certainty that I am not the same person I was when I was 25. I thought I knew what I wanted back then, and, yes, some of my goals have remained the same. But many are different. And, in many cases, the reasons and the processes have changed. I've matured; I've grown. I've read and thought and learned.<br />
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And, because of all this deep reading and thinking, I know who I am.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14728191978859917145noreply@blogger.com0