I was going to write about something completely different today, but I’ve got something that I have been mulling over in my mind for the past 24 hours or so, so I think I’ll go with that since I’m distracted anyway. It might seem like a preachy political rant, but really I am thinking about it all in a way that encompasses the kind of world that I want M to live in, and the kinds of priorities I want to instill in her as she grows up.
Yesterday I attended the Massachusetts Nonprofit Network (MNN) Conference and Expo. There were hundreds of predominately Massachusetts-based nonprofits represented by the attendees present. I was attending (on my own dime) in order to sit in on some seminars that will help me with the fundraising that I have begun to undertake as a board member for the Boston Area Gleaners.
The theme of this year’s conference was “Rising Beyond the Challenge”. The keynote speaker was Ami Dar, founder of idealist.org (those of you in the nonprofit world, especially job seekers, will know this site well). He was truly inspiring, and I cannot even do justice to his overall message. But the gist was that there are so many great ideas in this world, and we have such amazing technology at our fingertips–much of which could be used to find and talk to each other about solving these issues, if not solve them in its own right–yet we still remain largely unconnected, and, further still, continue to have homeless people, schools without adequate resources and places in the world without clean water or enough food. How can this be?
During that speech, I happened to sit next to a woman who works with foster kids and getting them the mentoring they need throughout their fractured lives. I was stunned to learn that less than 4% of foster kids will ever complete college–this is largely due to the lack of financial, emotional and other support systems for these kids after they “age out” of the foster care system. It hurt my heart to learn this. (Later, on the ride home, it also made me think about how much I write about M here and on Facebook, and that those kids likely do not have someone similar championing them, memorializing them, in any way at all, much less through today’s technology. The sadness of this thought cut through me for a good while sitting in traffic.)
During lunch, I sat next to one young woman who works at a nonprofit that makes grants to various kinds of programs. One grant that they had recently approved was the result of a Boston school teacher applying for funding so that the school could offer algebra classes to its 8th graders, because they were finding that most of the kids were not able to keep up in high school due to the lack of this class being offered at that grade. The school simply did not have enough money in its budget to fund a teacher to teach algebra, even though in many other school districts algebra is par for the course and fully funded in 7th and 8th grade. So some teacher, probably in her own spare time, took the initiative to do this. The question is, should this even have been necessary to begin with?
I thought about that…and then I thought about the graphic I saw last week in Time magazine (10/29/12) that showed that Americans are expected to spend $8 Billion on Halloween this year. And that’s a 10% increase over last year. Of that, in 2011, people spent $310 million on their pet costumes, and it’s projected to be $370 million this year.
I love animals. A lot. But it blows my mind that I am living in a country that is OK with spending their discretionary money on a hot dog costume for their dog, yet there are kids who are not even able–through no fault of their own other than geography or having parents that are no longer fit or present to be their caregivers–to get a fair shot at what so many of the rest of us have and take for granted. How can such a financial majority of us be OK with spending $8 Billion on candy, clothes and decorations but balk at helping out through charity or otherwise supporting tax increases that allow for programs that level the playing field.
Incidentally, did you know that people who make more money, tend to give less to charity? Take a look at the most recent stats available from The Chronicle of Philanthropy. How can this be?
I often wonder why so many aren’t more sympathetic to others’ plights? I wonder why Donald Trump doesn’t just skip the step of asking our President to produce his college/passport papers and just donate the $5 million to any charity. I wonder why the asshats mentioned in this L.A. Times article don’t take that $20 million they raised in just the past few days and put it to better use than some lousy commercials that almost all of us mute or change on TV. And for the sake of fairness, I’m going to call out these guys too.
It seems so timely, of course, because of the election frenzy we are in, with people bickering about taxes and spending and programs. No matter which side of the political party coin you fall on, at our core we are all humans. Despite this, why is it so hard for people to see past their need for more “stuff” and not want to reach out and help their neighbors (literally and figuratively) just to acquire the basics? How many gadgets and toys and new shoes do we all really need? Why aren’t there more mentors available for that woman to pair children with?–that doesn’t even cost money! I just don’t understand this willful blindness that takes place so frequently these days.
Yes, of course we all have our own priorities within our own four walls and at our desks, but isn’t there some way that more of us can give back? And if we won’t do it ourselves, then yes, we do need someone else–paid staff of nonprofit agencies, government employees–to pick up the slack in many cases. Otherwise, we are going to leave a lot of people hanging in the breeze without a lifeline. The places that that can lead to are not pretty and none of us would want to end up there. Yet many of us think we are immune from these things and so don’t give it a second thought.
But that is kind of my point, I guess. Using our own families and people we actually know shouldn’t be the litmus test for deciding whether to help out. In a community or neighborhood or country, we are all tethered together. Shouldn’t we be working collaboratively to support one another and lift each other up to our individual, highest potentials? Shouldn’t we make sure that we are all clothed, fed, educated and safe so that we can otherwise contribute in our highest capacity to society? For some, that may be going to work and finding ways to engineer bridges and roads that last longer. For others it may be just living day to day and staying out of trouble while trying to remain drug-free. For some, it may be finding ways to resist destructive behaviors and find an alternate path, one that takes perhaps years to unearth. And for others, it may mean just being able to live pain-free or free from worry in the last years of their lives, just being able to hang on as a valuable and loved member within their family or apartment building. The 200+ nonprofit groups in that room yesterday were a testament of how we can get there, together.
I want so much for M to grow up in a world that allows her and the kid sitting two desks over, who might not be from a similar socio-economic or family background, to feel like they can each pursue their ultimate dreams some day, that there are no barriers. That they are true equals. A world where people will start purchasing their homes because of the location or the kind of landscape and amenities, rather than by school system rankings–why should the kids in any town have less than another when it comes to resources, teachers and support? Shouldn’t there be good schools everywhere?
I’m not even sure where I am meandering with this post, which has already run on too long. I guess it just really gets to me when I see the kinds of things that people own and want to own, the kinds of money being thrown around under the auspice of “free speech” and yet there is so much better we could all be doing with our money and time (and I’m not even suggesting all of it) instead. There are so many people who need really not all that much, but can’t seem to get there without the rest of us ready to lend a hand. I think it is going to require a fundamental shift in the mentality that so many people have of “I go to work, I pay my taxes, I did my part. I did what I was supposed to do.” And while those things are true, it doesn’t erase the fact that there are always going to be people who cannot, for whatever reason, follow that very same path. That doesn’t make “them” less, and, more importantly, it doesn’t make “us” more.We have to start prioritizing each other when we think about ourselves.
Spooky things and endless candy are almost upon us, so since I have a fast approaching deadline for a paid gig for a change (and I am procrastinator extraordinaire!), here’s a very brief review of two wickedly, witchy books we’ve enjoyed these past few weeks.
Room on the Broom, written by Julia Donaldson and illustrated by Axel Scheffler, is actually a book that we have owned since Halloween 2011, and it’s one that we read often during the rest of the year too. It is really fun to read out loud because of all the rhyming. The witch loses things (her hat, hair bow and wand) while riding on her broomstick and her little animal friends help her retrieve them. Some “danger” appears at the end of the book, but given that it is a read targeted for the 4-8 year old set, of course everything works out in the end. Great, upbeat Halloween-ish read!
Humbug Witch, by Lorna Balian, was one that we found at the library a few weeks ago. It certainly wasn’t my favorite book considering I thought the story was kind of blah, but M loved it so who am I to argue? It’s about a little witch who cannot seem to get her spells and magic to work, but the reason why is revealed at the end. I think the one thing I did like is that the typeface throughout the book was bolded or all capped for various effects in some places in a way that I think is intriguing and good for pointing out to the pre-reader who is learning how to spell (pun intended). The list of ingredients in one of the “witch’s” potions was kinda funny too, on a 5 year old level at least. I wouldn’t buy it personally, but that’s what’s great about the library!
What Halloween treats are on your bookshelf??
Copyright (c) 2012 by Kristen M. Ploetz.
So, here’s a bomb: we’re now sending M to a preschool/K-Prep program that is run out of a local, religiously-affiliated college.
Y’all know I’m an atheist, right?
I’ll give you a moment to get back in your seat.
Without getting into the nitty gritty of why we decided to leave the preschool we were at for the last 4.5 years, it was, without a doubt, time for us to make a change. And fast. Naturally, this all happened at the beginning of September, which as almost any parent knows, is a time of year when it is virtually impossible to enroll in a traditional preschool because of how their calendars run vs. the rolling admission of places like we were at which attracts families with two parents working outside the home.
We wanted to explore the traditional preschool setting largely because of the flexibility my current part-time, work from home/for myself situation; unlike my days as an attorney, this type of work allows us to consider other options beyond whether a school had early and late hours. Considering the last time we looked at places was when M was in utero (and one brief visit to a Montessori school that opened two streets over when M was 2), we really had no idea what to expect.
We had a couple of parameters. We wanted to stay within city limits, with the hope that M might meet some friends that she could regularly play outside of school with since there are no kids near our house, much less meet kids that might transition with her to elementary school. It needed to have hours that allowed me to write/work at least 22-24 hours/week because I ‘m already struggling to meet deadlines as it is. There were two or three other key features that we wanted, all related to M’s personality and factors that were leading us to switch schools in the first instance.
Oh, and I was trying to send her someplace secular. I am speaking only for myself here–I don’t necessarily think this criterion was on my husband’s “must (not) have” list.
We quickly discovered there were not a lot of options, primarily because of the time of year we started looking, as well as the fact that I was unwilling to drive her to another community to attend preschool. That left two viable schools that had the kind of social/play/academic mix we were looking for. After the tours, we immediately had to write one off because it would have only put her in school for about 12 hours a week.
But it didn’t matter, because we LOVED the other school. Still love, in fact. The teachers, the facilities, the kids, the layout, the structure of the day….all of it. We loved it. We went on two tours (one with M). We spoke with the director. We spoke with the teacher that would be in M’s classroom. We observed the kids. I reached out to some parents who sent their kids there (a big thanks to J for giving me the inside scoop!). I think I did more research about this school than I did for college or law school.
Why so thorough, you ask? Because I knew–even before the tour–that on Fridays, there is a 30 minute session they call “Fantastic Fridays”. It’s a time when all the kids in the various classrooms get together with the teachers in the “big room”, and they tell stories, sing songs, color pictures about … wait for it … Jesus and his messages of love, peace and friendship.
Yet, I was so impressed with the school and its people that I was, and still am, able to get past it. Sure, some might say I’m a hypocrite, “using” the school despite my non-beliefs. Or perhaps that I am selling out or sending mixed messages to M. Certainly debatable.
But after much, MUCH thought about it all before deciding to send her there, I just came to a different conclusion. Not that conclusion. No, my non-beliefs have not budged. I think I just have a different perspective about how this might actually be a good thing for her, for us. For me. I’m being open. I’m putting the needs of my child above mine. What a concept.
The school knows where I stand. I made that clear (in a respectful way) during one of the tours. I did that not to mark my line in the sand so to speak, but to make sure that the school is true to its word that they do not discriminate against those students and families who are not Catholic/Christian, and that they are not teaching religion in the classrooms or proselytizing (no, no and no). I was assured that there are other non-Catholic families attending, and that there is even one other atheist family there too, and that they teach kids about other non-Catholic holidays and celebrations throughout the year too.
Considering the school is only open for 9 months (though they have a summer camp too), I couldn’t imagine too much damage being done if she was speaking the truth, which I think she was. Although, as I joke with my husband, if M starts doing the sign of the cross over her dolls, we may have to rethink our decision.
But I also mentioned my leanings because I wanted to really understand what was going to be happening during the “Fantastic Friday” portion of the day, just so that we could put it all in some context for M when the time came. I mean, here we were ripping her out of her school of 4+ years without much warning and asking her to learn a whole new daily and weekly routine (she’s now there only M-W-F as opposed to M-T-W-Th like her old school). And, oh yeah, hear about some guys named Jesus and God in the middle of all this craziness. It’s not like she’s heard those names before, outside of me driving in Boston-area traffic, so we wanted her to be prepared.
Then I realized that I needed to find age-appropriate ways to 1) explain my/our position, 2) be respectful of the school’s view and the families that go there, and 3) allow her to come to her own conclusions in her own time. I’ve been living in this secular bubble with her for some time now, but she’s inevitably going to be exposed to other people and their belief systems. Indeed, this is part of why I am OK with our decision–I think it is a small step in her becoming culturally literate when it comes to religion. Yes, I will teach her about the various viewpoints as it becomes relevant to do so, and I am sure she will be getting various takes on it from her future schooling and family and friends too. Indeed, I do not want us (M’s parents) to be the only source of information in her life.
Though I do admit that I worry occasionally about the “air of truth” that the school environment can lend itself to. Learning how to read, the alphabet, adding/subtracting, gravity…these concepts and the host of others taught at school are “real” or “true”, as it were. Throw religion into the mix too and that’s where I get a little claustrophobic. But I am choosing to go to a school of which this is a foundation, not a public school. I cannot have it both ways with our decision as it would be unreasonable and unfair. But so long as we temper and contextualize the information she hears over these next several months, my energy for these kinds of battles will be saved for public school.
I think our choice to enroll at this school will help foster an acceptance of diversity that, so far, in M’s life has been limited to exposure to racial and ethnic diversity. Though I don’t think those differences even register for her. Going inside M’s mind, I think I’d find that, to her, it doesn’t matter that Sally might be Chinese and Marta might be Indian and look different from each other and M — they all like to play with dolls and love pink, so they don’t think differently than M. If anything, the only differences in thinking (i.e. toy choices) is probably observed largely through gender still at this age. So, as I think about this choice we’ve made, it seems to be one small on-ramp to the varied philosophies, virtues and ethical paradigms that are around us. No, beyond us. Beyond our household with our personal philosophies and values.
I also realized that I am unlikely to find anything that is “perfect”. So, when I was contemplating all of this, I asked myself whether I would have sent her to any other religious analogue, or if was I OK with this one because of the Catholic bent (which is how I was raised for a time). Being honest with myself I found that, yes, I would have sent her someplace similar that was Jewish or Hindu or the like, were there one available.
So, despite my tentative worry about M being exposed to more than what we bargained for, or that she might say or repeat something she heard from us that could be perceived as being confrontational or disrespectful at her new school, here’s how things went for our first three weeks.
M (first day): No tears at drop off, realized she knew one girl in her class already. Success!
T (day off at home with me): Weird. For me. Not for M.
W (second day): M reported that there’s a bubbler (water fountain) on their playground and there is apparently a kid named Puff in her classroom (later learned to be not true). Success again!
Th: I tell M that she might be hearing about some people named Jesus and God the next day at school during a story/song time in the big room. She asked who they were, and I said that they are men from a really old story. She asked who God was, and I said that some people believe he made the earth. I waited…she said, “well that’s silly, because it would have taken him like 50,000 years and no one can do that!” Worry averted.
F: No mention of Fantastic Friday, but they are saying “Pledge of ‘legiance”. She asked if that God was the same one I told her about, and after I said yes she wanted a snack.
M: M reported that somebody clogged the toilet. OK then…
W: M reported that the toilet paper at school rips too easily and she can only get one square at a time. Welcome to the world of industrial toilet paper, honey…
F: M reported that she likes the soap in the bathroom. See a trend here?
M: M showed me the “secret handshake” that S and J showed her. The three of them haven’t decided whether to let the other S know about it. *sigh* (Note to self: is it time to read Queen Bees and Wannabes already? Watch for signs of becoming a “mean girl”….)
T: Still weird to be at home with M in the middle of the week. But we’re getting into a groove.
W: M starts cupping her hands at dinner and signing “he’s got the whole world in his hands”. Hmmm….delayed reaction from last FF? I said to her that I remember that one from when I was little, and I start singing it, realizing right away I don’t remember how it ends. She advises me that “it’s amen, Mommy”. Quickly I ask her if she knows what “amen” means. She doesn’t. Perfect time for a language lesson/re-direction. I tell her it can mean “I agree”, as in “this dessert is good, isn’t it? Amen!” I figure that is a little better than the “so it is” definition, at least in my mind.
Th: In the car M asks me,
“Mommy, is my pee like a river?”.
OK…looks like she heard the song “I’ve Got Peace Like a River”. I tell her that, why yes, her pee is like a river, but what she is probably talking about is the song “peace like a river”. Then she asks what peace is. This is not what I had in mind when we headed out the door to go to the Goodwill store to hunt for some bargains!
F: Half-day at school for M. We’re headed up to VT and dropping her off at Gramma’s on the way. After this past month of switching schools, and weaving a new thread into our daily discussions, I need to get away. Amen!
So, given how the first three weeks went, am I worried? No (well, maybe about her listening skills if she continues to think her pee is a river…). We’ve essentially told her a few times over the past few weeks that there are lots of different ways that people think about the world, how it came to be and how it should be run (also a good message for an election year), and that even if we don’t agree with each other, we still have to be nice to each other. That it is ALWAYS okay to have doubt about what other people tell you, about what they may or may not believe, and that it is important to ask questions and find out the answers for yourself, to figure out what can be true and what might not be.
I remind myself that she’s five. She still thinks mermaids are very real, but yet doesn’t believe that a person-like entity could create our planet. She’s starting to ask some intriguing questions that chip away at whether Santa is real. If these are not critical thinking skills in the making, I don’t know what is. To me, this is good stuff. She’s becoming a freethinker. I mean who knows, what’s the proof that mermaids are not real?
Stay tuned … in a few weeks I will post my review of the timely book I am currently reading, “Raising Freethinkers: A Practical Guide for Parenting Beyond Belief” by Dale McGowan et al. (but so far, so good).
Feeling sleuth-y? You might want to check out Nate the Great, written by Marjorie Weinman Sharmat, illustrated by Marc Simont, to get your Sherlock Holmes on!
This was another book recommended to me by that wonderful salesperson at the Children’s Book Shop (Brookline Village) mentioned in last week’s book review. It’s actually the first book in a long list of Nate the Great detective stories. It was originally published in 1972, and despite being 40 years old, the story itself is virtually timeless (exception: the telephone illustrated in the book has a curly cord…funny how I just mentioned those in my most recent post). At 62 pages, it is a good book for reading to a pre-reader, and I imagine a nice one to hand off to an early reader too because the language is not too challenging.
The basic story is about a young boy (Nate) who is a budding detective who helps his friend (Annie) solve a mystery: who or what took her painting that she just painted?? Nate goes through some plausible suspects around the house and nearby…Annie’s friend, dog and little brother. I won’t tell you which one was the culprit, but there are some subtle clues in the two-color sketches. Actually, three colors…but if I explain that one, I’ll give away the ending! But a word of advice: be sure to read the book in ample light or you will miss one of the clues, like we did.
This was M’s first bona fide mystery book. I think it was a good one to start with, although because she had never read one before, she wasn’t clued in (pun intended) to looking for hints and clues throughout the text and illustrations. She knew that Nate was trying to figure out who stole the painting, but I don’t think she quite got that she was supposed to also try to figure it out before him. (Isn’t that the whole point of a mystery? I don’t read mysteries generally speaking, but I know when I read them I try to “solve the mystery” before reaching the giveaway at the end of the book.)
Not to mention, it was (in my opinion) hard to pick up on the clue (which was set forth in color) because the printing and color contrast was not quite as vivid as it probably should be given the intended audience. M knows what happens when certain colors are mixed together, and yet she missed the primary (pun intended) clue. Hard to say if that is because she wasn’t used to this genre, if the book was perhaps a little beyond her yet, or, most likely, because she had to pee and wasn’t really concentrating near the end. But once we got to the part where Nate solved the mystery (and after her pee break!) she wanted to go back and read it again, I think to see how it all progressed and piece it together herself, even though she obviously already knew the ending. (For what it’s worth, it looks like the illustrators change throughout the series, so perhaps the newer ones are easier to follow in terms of finding clues? I’ll have to report back on that one.)
All in all, it certainly kept her and my attention as to whodunnit and I think it was a good recommendation. I’d be curious if there are other mystery type books for the 5-6 year old, pre-reader set, just for comparison’s sake. It’s a fine line with this genre, at this particular stage, because you want there to be enough of a mystery to solve and make the story worthwhile, but yet not give away the ending so easily or make it too difficult. The language and sentence structure was simple and clear, with some refrains repeated throughout the book, always good for the budding reader and writer. The author used easy to read language, but still did a good job of adding dramatic flair, which I like as we move into more advanced stories:
“The cats had black hair and green eyes. And long claws. Very long claws.”
“I searched the room. I looked on the desk. And under the desk. And in the desk. No picture.”
Some of the characters have a bit of a sarcastic side/dry wit to them that I noticed and thought was funny, but I am not sure that M picked up on that. In sum, I think we will need to read a few more in the series (and we will) now that M understands how this genre works, but it was a good one to start with.
Overall rating: 4 out of 5 stars
Next week’s review: Two timely witchy stories for Halloween: Humbug Witch, by Lorna Balian (a library find!) and Room on the Broom, by Julia Donaldson (from our personal collection).
Copyright (c) 2010-2014 Kristen M. Ploetz. All rights reserved. Personal theme was created in WordPress by Obox Themes.