Leap day

I took this photo earlier in the month, intending to cobble together an "On the nightstand" entry, but one thing and then another has demanded my attention. You know how it goes. And for the record? I think I prefer the reading life review format I used throughout 2011 for sharing the books I've completed, so I've reverted to that.

Other notes:
❧ I've deleted M-mv's FB page; the Twitter account is simply inactive.

❧ I am completely caught up on email. Thank you for your patience.

❧ And here are the two lone new(ish) articles in my library of links:

The New York Times: The Upside of Dyslexia

Whatever special abilities dyslexia may bestow, difficulty with reading still imposes a handicap. Glib talk about appreciating dyslexia as a “gift” is unhelpful at best and patronizing at worst. But identifying the distinctive aptitudes of those with dyslexia will permit us to understand this condition more completely, and perhaps orient their education in a direction that not only remediates weaknesses, but builds on strengths.

The New York Review of Books: Schools We Can Envy by Diane Ravitch

To be sure, Finland is an unusual nation. Its schools are carefully designed to address the academic, social, emotional, and physical needs of children, beginning at an early age. Free preschool programs are not compulsory, but they enroll 98 percent of children. Compulsory education begins at the age of seven. Finnish educators take care not to hold students back or label them as “failing,” since such actions would cause student failure, lessen student motivation, and increase social inequality. After nine years of comprehensive schooling, during which there is no tracking by ability, Finnish students choose whether to enroll in an academic or a vocational high school. About 42 percent choose the latter. The graduation rate is 93 percent, compared to about 80 percent in the US.

Reading life review: January and February

Books read in January and February: 23
Books read in 2012: 23

■ Defending Jacob (William Landay)
Fiction. Several bits of awkward writing (e.g., "I put away my book, McCullough's biography of Truman, atop a slippery pile of slick magazines on my own night table, and turned off the light.") and the narrator's stubborn (often to the brink of stupid) refusal to see, really see, his son periodically yanked me right out of this otherwise good-enough hybrid (family drama / courtroom thriller).

■ Sweet Tooth Vol. 1: Out of the Woods (Jeff Lemire)
■ Sweet Tooth Vol. 2: In Captivity (Jeff Lemire)
■ Sweet Tooth Vol. 3: Animal Armies (Jeff Lemire)
■ Sweet Tooth Vol. 4: Endangered Species (Jeff Lemire)
Graphic fiction. I saw this recommendation and couldn't agree with her more. Since Volume 5, which will collect Issues 26 through 32, is not due to be published until October, I checked with my local comic shop for Issues 26 through 30 and will now haunt them for each issue as it is published -- much as I do with The Walking Dead.

■ The Art of Hearing Heartbeats (Jan-Philipp Sendker)
Fiction. The narrative style reminded me of Life of Pi, although the writer asserts he was not at all influenced by Yann Martel. It was an old-fashioned fairytale of a novel... and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

■ Thirteen Reasons Why (Jay Asher)
YA fiction. I saw the conclusion coming but still thought it a competent enough effort. I had been sick with a head cold while reading it, though. Heh, heh, heh.

■ Our Town (Thornton Wilder)
Play. As with The Crucible (see this "On the nightstand" entry), I read this play in high school and college, then revisited it eight years ago, when my son was fourteen, the age my youngest is now. Over the past week, I returned to it yet again, this time in the company of the Misses. Related entry: "It takes life to love Life."

■ Stop Acting Rich... And Start Living Like a Real Millionaire (Thomas J. Stanley)
Non-fiction. Read this one on the Kindle and the iPad, whichever was within reach. Although it rehashes much of the data and ideas presented in The Millionaire Next Door, this volume offers excellent "sound bytes" parents can share with their children.

You can act rich or actually become rich. Few of us will ever be able to do both, and we certainly won't get rich by acting the part before we have the financial resources with which to pay for la dolce vita.

We live in a time when it has never been easier to act rich than to actually become rich, even with the devastation of the financial crisis. At the end of the day, not only are we bad actors because it is simply impossible for us to keep up with the glittering rich (if we buy one expensive, prestige car, they buy 20), but we are terribly misguided and ill informed about how millionaires really spend and what they actually buy.

We learn how to manage money (or not) in our families of origin. Let's arm our young people with alternatives to "Buy! Buy! Buy!"

■ The Crucible (Arthur Miller)
Play. Like so many of you, I first encountered this classic of American theater in high school. I then revisited it eight years ago, when my son was the same age as Miss M-mv(ii).

And now the Misses and I have read it.

We began with the 1996 film, for which Miller himself adapted his play, earning him the only Oscar nod of his career. Roger Ebert has little good to say about this adaptation, but I respectfully disagreed with him when I first saw it in 2004, and I continued to disagree with him as I watched last week. It is, quite simply, a powerful work well acted.

In the days that followed, we read and discussed the play itself, and I was reminded afresh what a privilege it is to lead this reading, thinking, learning life beside such thoughtful, articulate, and sensitive students.

A line for my chapbook: "I never said my wife were a witch, Mr. Hale; I only said she were reading books!"

■ The Project (Brian Falkner)
YA fiction. Another solid effort from New Zealand author Brian Falkner (related entry here), this novel was inspired by his three-month residency at the University of Iowa's International Writing Program. He arrived in the region shortly after the flood of 2008, an event that informs The Project.

■ Wool (Hugh Howey)
■ Wool 2 (Hugh Howey)
■ Wool 3 (Hugh Howey)
■ Wool 4 (Hugh Howey)
■ Wool 5 (Hugh Howey)
Fiction. Aunt M-mv casually asked if I had read Wool, and two clicks, a few reviews, and the phrase "post-apocalyptic fiction" later, I had it loaded into my Kindle cloud. A compelling story, capable character development, and competent enough prose led me to the subsequent books in the series. Wool deserves a much wider audience. Amazon Prime folk, you can read these books free on your Kindles. Non-Prime? We're talking ninety-nine cents for each of the first four volumes (on the Kindle); $2.99 for the final installment.

■ Feed (M.T. Anderson)
Fiction. Seven years ago, Mr. M-mv and I read this with our son. At the time I wrote:

Another book that has, for better or worse, (re)shaped the geography of our imaginations this week is M.T. Anderson's Feed. The book has been pitched to "young adults." [...] Hence, a number of children will read it. The clever among them, then, missing the [point], will dismiss it as "shallow" or "dumb." The rest simply won't get it. Frankly, many teens won't get it. Far more worrisome? Most adults may miss the point. Or will get it, and, in their great discomfort, reject it. We're not pretending this is great literature. But, "Oh? Wow! Thing!"

Well, in addition to Coriolanus (related entry here), the family book club decided to read Feed this month. Does it hold up on re-reading? Both Mr. M-mv and I agree that it does. He revisited the book via an excellent audiobook edition, read by David Aaron Baker ("Terrific!"), and I split my return nearly equally over the paperback I first read and a Kindle edition. Our recent book club discussion included such issues as the novel's prescience, its spot on riff on the vapidity of "teenspeak," the fact that Violet is (of course!) homeschooled, and the observation that Titus is not an entirely an unsympathetic character, nor is Violet an entirely sympathetic character.

Some passages for the chapbook:

p. 4

The thing I hate about space is that you can feel how old and empty it is. I don't know if the others felt like I felt, about space? But I think they did, because they all got louder. They all pointed more, and squeezed close to Link's window.

You need the noise of your friends in space.

p. 31

I wanted to buy some things but I didn't know what they were. After we walked around for a while, everything seemed kind of sad and boring so we couldn't tell anymore what we wanted.

p. 47

People were really excited when they first came out with feeds. It was all da, da, da, this big educational thing, da da da, your child will have the advantage, encyclopedias at their fingertips, closer than their fingertips, etc. That's one of the greatest things about the feed -- that you can be supersmart without ever working. Everyone is supersmart now. You can look things up automatic, like science and history, like if you want to know which battles of the Civil War George Washington fought in and shit.

p. 135

The place was a mess. Everything had words on it. There were papers with words on them, and books, and even posters on the wall had words. Her father seemed like a crank.

By the way, can I give a little "Squee!" about the synchronicity / serendipity / synthesis at work here? Re-reading Feed while still engaged with Nicholas Carr's The Shallows was, in a hyphenated word, mind-blowing.

■ Like Shaking Hands with God: A Conversation about Writing (Kurt Vonnegut and Lee Stringer)
Non-fiction. From Daniel Simon's foreword to this slim but wonderful volume:

There is a sentence in a Jewish prayer: A person's thoughts are his or her own, but their expression belongs to God. You feel it in the writings -- and the talk -- of both these men. As one who believes in the redemptive power of literature, I think Kurt and Lee both write to catch His eye. Neither one of them is taking any chances.

That I love Vonnegut, most of you already know; this transcript of his October 1, 1998 conversation with Lee Stringer only increased my affection. And I added Stringer's Grand Central Winter to my Kindle after closing the book.

■ Adventure Unleashed (______ __. _________)
Fiction. My daughter's self-published novel, the first in a fantasy trilogy.

■ Coriolanus (William Shakespeare)
Play, classic. The family book club decided to tackle this one, and, honestly? It's so compelling that I don't know how we missed before. So, thank you, Ralph Fiennes. Thank you very much. Chapbook entry here.

■ The Autobiography of an Execution (David R. Dow)
Non-fiction. One word: Un-put-down-able. All right. That's not really a word, but it ably describes how I felt about Houston lawyer David R. Dow's memoir / meditation on the death penalty. The casually familiar narrative style might seem at odds with the subject matter, but it coaxes readers through otherwise difficult material. You'll find a NYT review here.

■ Artist's Journal Workshop (Cathy Johnson)
Art. Subtitled "Creating Your Life in Words in Pictures," this beautifully illustrated introduction to art journaling includes examples in a a range of media from the notebooks of twenty-seven artists. Johnson's text is both practical (Collage over an entire offending page, if you must) and encouraging (Celebrating the everyday is one of the loveliest uses of an artist's journal).

■ The English Teacher (Lily King)
Fiction. Apparently, this novel was chosen by both Publisher's Weekly and the Chicago Tribune as one of the best novels of 2005. I missed it then and cannot begin to remember how it ended up on my TBR stack, but I will tell you that I appreciated King's skill from the opening line: That she had not killed him in her sleep was still the great relief of every morning. She narrates a compelling character study in the taut, measured tones of psychological thriller -- and delivers.

Back in the saddle again

"Of all things living, a man's the worst!"

This month, the The Shakespeare Project of Chicago presents The Taming of the Shrew, a Shakespearean battle of the sexes that has spawned many derivative versions, including Kiss Me Kate and Ten Things I Hate About You. Featuring a veteran cast of Project regulars, the play is directed by former artistic director Jeff Christian.

~ Performance Dates ~

Saturday, February 25, at 10 a.m.
The Newberry Library

Saturday, February 25, at 2 p.m.
The Wilmette Public Library

Sunday, February 26, at 2 p.m.
The Highland Park Public Library

The Shakespeare Project of Chicago was created in 1996 to bring to life the words of William Shakespeare, present his plays to the community for free, and foster the talents of members of Actors’ Equity Association.

"[C]onsummate skill and self-effacing dedication to music"

We knew, of course, that Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes made quite an impression on the Misses last year, but we really had no idea how great an impression until they asked to see him again this year.

What a terrific performance!

Note: The title of the post is taken from the New York Times review of Andsnes' February 15 performance at Carnegie Hall, where he played the same program to which we were treated today: "Excitement in the Air, Without a Button Undone." You can hear the Carnegie Hall performance here.

Some enchanted evening

In 2008, the Lincoln Center Theater revival of South Pacific won seven Tony Awards. It played to sold-out houses for more than two years and was broadcast live on PBS on August 18, 2010.

We caught this evening's performance of the touring production based on that award-winner (playing at Chicago's Cadillac Palace Theatre through February 26).

Good stuff, folks.

Related link: a WGN clip of the cast.

"Be mine."

"Be mine."

He said.

He said, "Thanks for being my Valentine, yet again."

He said, with you, I never feel old or get tired.

He said, with you, I don't get discouraged or disappointed.

He said, I love you.

And I said, "I love you."

And I know.

And I know.

And you're welcome.

I said.

"I am. I already was. I always will be."

Where have we been?

Morton Arboretum
A week ago yesterday, we headed to the Morton Arboretum. We walked and talked and later enjoyed a lovely lunch and a bookstore-browse.

Volo Bog
A week ago tomorrow, we headed to Volo Bog for a three-mile walk that became rather hike-ish. The trail was boot-suckingly muddy and tricky to navigate, but what a good time we had. When conditions are that uncertain, though, I spend a lot of time looking down, picking my way along the trail... which is how I found the nest pictured below.

Chicago Shakespeare Theater
Thursday night, we saw A Midsummer Night's Dream, directed by Gary Griffith. Fantastic stuff! Timothy Edward Kane and Tracy Michelle Arnold (Theseus/Oberon and Hippolyta/Titania) are, quite simply, perfect. Laura Huizenga, too, is memorable: She offers a clearly spoken Helena that inspires sympathy, not derision. And Elizabeth Laredo's Puck suggests whimsy, yes, but also all of sharp corners and edges that make Robin Goodfellow "that shrewd and knavish sprite." But what will likely be most oft-mentioned when the papers begin reviewing this wonderful production is the enchanting band of players headed by Tim Kazurinsky's Peter Quince and Ron Orbach's Nick Bottom.

On the nightstand

■ Our Town (Thornton Wilder)
Play. As with The Crucible (see last week's "On the nightstand"), I read this play in high school and college, then revisited it eight years ago, when my son was fourteen, the age my youngest is now. Over the past week, I returned to it yet again, this time in the company of the Misses. Related entry: "It takes life to love Life."

■ A Mass for the Dead (William Gibson)
Fiction. I pulled this down from the shelves after reading Girl Detective's challenge. She asks for a favorite book but then writes, "Gun to the head, about to depart for a desert island. What book (not the Bible or collected works of Shakespeare, but one work) do you pick?" Well, under those circumstances, I'd pick a book I'd always meant to read but had never gotten around to -- not a favorite (especially since I wouldn't be allowed to grab my Pelican Shakespeare).

■ The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains (Nicholas Carr)
Non-fiction. Nearly done.

■ Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking (Susan Cain)
Non-fiction. Nearly done. Related entry here.

■ Kill Shakespeare, Volume 1 (Conor McCreery)
■ Kill Shakespeare, Volume 2 (Conor McCreery)
Graphic fiction. Speaking of Girl Detective, I had thought that she was the one who prompted me to pick up Volume 1 last February, but I can't find a link on her site, and Yahoo! is proving most uncooperative this morning, so I can't search my mail archive. Well, Kill Shakespeare has made its way back onto the TBR pile, courtesy of Magnificent Octopus and, more recently, So Many Books.

Not pictured:
■ Wool 5 (Hugh Howey)
Fiction. A satisfying conclusion to an compelling cycle. Wool deserves a much wider audience. Amazon Prime folk, you can read these books free on your Kindles. Non-Prime? We're talking ninety-nine cents for each of the first four volumes (on the Kindle); $2.99 for the final installment.

■ Stop Acting Rich... And Start Living Like a Real Millionaire (Thomas J. Stanley)
Non-fiction. Read this one on the Kindle and the iPad, whichever was within reach. Although it rehashes much of the data and ideas presented in The Millionaire Next Door, this volume offers excellent "sound bytes" parents can share with their children.

You can act rich or actually become rich. Few of us will ever be able to do both, and we certainly won't get rich by acting the part before we have the financial resources with which to pay for la dolce vita.

We live in a time when it has never been easier to act rich than to actually become rich, even with the devastation of the financial crisis. At the end of the day, not only are we bad actors because it is simply impossible for us to keep up with the glittering rich (if we buy one expensive, prestige car, they buy 20), but we are terribly misguided and ill informed about how millionaires really spend and what they actually buy.

We learn how to manage money (or not) in our families of origin. Let's arm our young people with alternatives to "Buy! Buy! Buy!"

Fine Art Friday Saturday and more

Detail from Saint George Killing the Dragon, 1434-35 (Bernat Martorell; Spanish, c. 1400–1452)

We were able to spend a couple of hours in the Art Institute this past Sunday, before seeing Joshua Bell play "like a god." Our adventure began with "Contemporary Drawings from the Irving Stenn Jr. Collection," and I will leave it at ... [insert head scratch].

Our meander through European painting and sculpture proved more fruitful for this family of readers, thinkers, and autodidacts. While it was wonderful to revisit one of my favorite paintings in all the world (above), it was Penitent Saint Peter, 1628/32 (Jusepe de Ribera; Spanish, 1588–1652) that defined the visit for me. (Much as The Captive Slave arrested my attention some years ago.) Something about the light and the expression.... and the image's sense of timelessness.

It was only the reminder that we could be late for the concert if I lingered any longer that moved me away the painting.

Link/Think
I added only one article to my Diigo library this week and promptly posted it... elsewhere. It has since been much linked and discussed, but in case you missed it:

Newsweek: "Why Urban, Educated Parents Are Turning to DIY Education"

Many of these parents feel that city schools—or any schools—don’t provide the kind of education they want for their kids. Just as much, though, their choice to homeschool is a more extreme example of a larger modern parenting ethos: that children are individuals, each deserving a uniquely curated upbringing. That peer influence can be noxious. (Bullying is no longer seen as a harmless rite of passage.) That DIY—be it gardening, knitting, or raising chickens—is something educated urbanites should embrace. That we might create a sense of security in our kids by practicing “attachment parenting,” an increasingly popular approach that involves round-the-clock physical contact with children and immediate responses to all their cues.

Yet another home education stereotype from which I will flee.

Saturday Review of Books
Semicolon hosts "The Saturday Review of Books." Consider participating this week.

"Well, it's Groundhog Day. Again."

Phil: What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?
Ralph: That about sums it up for me.


Phil: Do you know what today is?
Rita: No, what?
Phil: Today is tomorrow. It happened.


Phil: I was in the Virgin Islands once. I met a girl. We ate lobster and drank pina coladas. At sunset we made love like sea otters. That was a pretty good day. Why couldn't I get that day over and over and over?

Worth repeating: Knicker knots

The following was first posted on 9.22.2011.

Several years back, it caused many a twisted panty and no small amount of teeth-gnashing and hand-wringing when I posted the February 29, 2008 Wall Street Journal article, "What Makes Finnish Kids So Smart?" to a homeschooling message board. The article simply asserts that "well-trained teachers and responsible children" are the key to that country's educational success.

There had been a similarly angst-y flurry a few months earlier, when I posted The Economist's "How to be top," which asserts, "The quality of teachers affects student performance more than anything else."

Begin with hiring the best. There is no question that, as one South Korean official put it, “the quality of an education system cannot exceed the quality of its teachers.” Studies in Tennessee and Dallas have shown that, if you take pupils of average ability and give them to teachers deemed in the top fifth of the profession, they end up in the top 10% of student performers; if you give them to teachers from the bottom fifth, they end up at the bottom. [Emphasis added.]

Why the knicker knots? you wonder. Because I posited that the same could be said about homeschooling -- that is, for the most part, the endeavor will only be as successful as the parent-teacher.

I was reminded of these two articles (and the irritation my insistence on drawing analogous conclusions about home educators inspired) yesterday, while reading a lengthy discussion about homeschooling and using resources and teachers in co-ops and other settings.

Allow me a related aside, okay?

The priest who led the Pre-Cana group meeting my husband and I attended nearly twenty-six years ago, asked the participants to divide themselves roughly in half. A dozen couples scooched to one side of the room while the rest of us remain seated. "Yeah," he said. "That's about right. That's about how many of you will be divorced in ten or so years."

I am sure each of us smugly believed that we would not fail in our marriage. And now, all these years later, I am just as sure that many did.

Those, quite simply, are the odds.

The reactions to the original post in the above-referenced message board discussion reminded me of the reactions to the priest's pronouncement -- right down to similar points about how discouraging it was, on the cusp of marriage, to be discussing divorce. "Shouldn't you be encouraging us? Why are we talking about failure now, before we even say, 'I do'?"

Um, if not now, then when? After you've failed?

No. At the beginning of the journey is the best possible time to learn that there may be rewards, but there may also be failure. How can you reap the former and avoid (or, at the very least, recover from) the latter? Let's talk about that sooner rather than later, eh?
________________________________

For about fifteen years, I've maintained that I am the opposite of a homeschooling evangelist. In short, I don't think everyone can do this. I don't think everyone should. And I most certainly have met people -- in person and online -- that I fervently wish weren't attempting this since they, their children, and the stereotypes they perpetuate are the reason my family rarely announces that we homeschool.

That's not a popular position, of course, because it's not all daffodils and sunshine and "You can do this!" It's not particularly encouraging or affirming. But sometimes, the kindest thing is the truth, and the truth is not everyone who decides to attempt this thing will be good or even adequate. You see, it simply is not enough to love your children. It's not enough to design a school room, wallpaper your homes in books, buy memberships to museums, and collect curricula. Nope. You must also teach, and to teach well, you must be capable, smart, engaged, and certain.

The wonderful Marva Collins Collins wrote plainly but enthusiastically about the call to teach well:

Many of us can be excellent for a day, but we find a lifetime of excellence to be just a bit difficult. Good teachers leave their egos and problems at the door each morning. They become so immersed in the children they teach that they forget time, problems, who they are, or what they can't do. They believe that they exist for their students. They hear with their hearts, they see with their souls, and they teach with their conscience.

Parker J. Palmer also defined the essence of teaching well:

Good teachers possess a capacity for connectedness. They are able to weave a complex web of connections among themselves, their subjects, and their students so that students can learn to weave a world for themselves. The methods used by these weavers vary widely: Socratic dialogues, laboratory experiments, collaborative problem solving, creative chaos. The connections made by good teachers are not in their methods but in their hearts -- meaning heart in its ancient sense, as the place where intellect and emotion and spirit and will converge in the human self.

Let's face it: Palmer is describing a level of expertise here, isn't he? You can't, after all, "weave a complex web of connections" if you don't possess information and experience -- expertise.

This is, of course, why teaching the upper grades is difficult -- which is why we must introduce our students to other teachers, other learning settings. Many may be able to teach with excellence and heart in the elementary grades, but only some can do so in the secondary school grades, and then, only in some subjects. At that point, it becomes critical to identify resources -- virtual schools, co-ops, dual enrollment programs, community mentors, or, if nothing else is available, the local high school -- for the subjects in which we are unable to weave a complex web of connections. Oh, and by the way? This is a good thing socially, too, since some (not all, but some) homeschoolers and their parent-educators seem to have a tough time adapting to conventional classroom habits and expectations.

So, how are you doing?

Just as the students of the good and wonderful teachers we remember from our own school years did not all enroll in a "big name" college (or in college, at all), did not become prodigious accumulators of wealth or heroes on the battlefield or whatever, our own students may not, either. So if success in this endeavor will not be measured by where / if they attended college or what profession they enter, by what will it be measured?

I thoroughly believe that if you are doing this thing well -- with excellence and heart -- you already know the answer to that question.

Good luck, folks.