While I have an exciting post to share about book-making and visual journaling, I am compelled to address something that has been swirling around in my mind of late about home schooling, about grades, about educational philosophy and public school, too. That "something" is grades. What is a grade, exactly? What does it mean? What is its relevance? Does it have any?
I ask these questions for several reasons. First, I am a scholar of educational and developmental theory. Next, I have a child who is home schooled for whom I submit grades. I have a child who attends public school who receives grades. Finally, I am not only a scholar but also a philosopher, which is a nice way of summing up my propensity to share my thoughts with others via a blog such as this, of course.
This year, my daughter, who is a sophomore in our local, regional, public high school, changed math levels mid-way through the school year. (The "backstory" on all of that is something I'll skip over here.) During her first semester, in an honors level course, the teacher's grading policy was something like this: if a student even "attempted" his or her homework, he or she received a grade of 100. Of course, at the honors level, most of the kids in the class are self-disciplined, so there were few, if any, who did not do homework. There were plenty who could not complete homework, or who completed it but got sometimes even every problem wrong. These students all, including the ones who are truly mathematical geniuses and who completed every problem correctly every time, got a 100 in the grade book for homework.
The difference between student ability and comprehension came when it was test time. At test time, the math geniuses got nothing below a 90. And, if that was the case, it was usually due to the test having an error because those students truly get every problem correct. (When I say "those" I mean the one in the class each year.) The remainder of the students fall somewhere between. Some struggle the entire time, and others get private tutors if their parents can afford the $60/hour fee. The "average" student in an honors level class takes the test and receives a grade between 60-75%. However, averaged in with a string of 100s from homework, the overall (semester or term) grade is somewhere in the "B" range (B-, B, B+). This keeps the parents from calling, but also leaves the kids still very much in the dark. They have poor skills, poor comprehension of the concepts and sort of "pass" at a level acceptable to honors level students especially if their future majors are more in the humanities areas. They won't be accepted to Harvard, yet they'll get into plenty of competitive colleges with the "B" in math as long as they have As in AP English and such when they apply as history majors, and the like.
After the mid-term, my daughter, sick of not having a clue as to what was going on in math, changed to the college level course. It came as quite a shock to have her homework actually graded. Thus, unless she did her homework completely, AND got the right answers, she would not walk into a test with a "100" average any more. If she received a grade of 60 or 70 or 80, that is what was averaged with her "actual" "earned" grades for homework. To me, this seems the opposite of how teachers in these two levels might choose to grade students. The "non-math-whizzes" might get credit for "trying" and/or doing all the problems, even if 80% of them were wrong. Then, at test time, there would be a true test of skills and abilities (hopefully) gained through trial and error in homework.
This got me to thinking not only angry, fed-up thoughts about public school, but also about how I grade my own son who is home schooled. I find it incredibly challenging to "grade" his work. For one thing, since we plan a lot of what he does together, he applies himself to everything he does and he also completes everything, without question. I do not assign "busy work" and so, to me, all of his work product is kind of like a test. All of his work product is high quality, as well. And, he often works beyond grade level. Thus, my conundrum is: do I grade him according to what I know of the work of his peers at grade level? Do I grade him at the level at which he is working? If I grade him according to his peers, then he is an "A" student most of the time. If I grade him according to the complexity of the material he uses and his thought process, the actual writing might not be even a "B" at the college level in execution. However, the basis for this kind of complex thought, wherein he analyzes a text, synthesizes information from prior learning and even sometimes offers new reflections for consideration, is quite advanced, at the college or post-graduate level.
As I consider the end of my son's academic quarter on March 31st, I think about the report I am to send to the superintendent. I consider colleges like Hampshire, where grades are given as narratives, not letters or numbers. These are not so easy to review in three minutes, yet they are a more accurate and holistic representation of the actual work of an actual person, both full of complexity and nuance. While my son puts forth great insights, he fails to develop them in writing to the fullest extent possible. Of course, he is only thirteen years old. Additionally, developing insight in written form is something even doctoral students must work on as they write beyond their dissertations! Heck, reporters with thirty years writing experience sometimes fail to fully develop or struggle fully develop thoughts at such a level! The fact that my thirteen year old can even articulate a point that is a step beyond the analysis and synthesis of a text puts him far ahead of most writers of any kind. So, how do I "grade" that?
What is a grade? It is merely a number (or letter) that represents a particular kind of evaluation, decided quite individually by a teacher, a single human being, that tells something about that exact minute of evaluation. It's relevance is fleeting, since after the grade is recorded, the student may lose most of the information retained in earning (receiving?) the grade. Conversely, the student is as likely to master the information and knowledge after taking a test or passing in a paper or other assignment. It is just that possibly at the minute the grade is recorded, the student did not possess that mastery. Who is to know, really, which is the end result? And, then, what does that grade mean even five minutes after it is given?
As I await my daughter's third term grade report, I know from our conversations that her grade in math is going to be just about the same as it was in her honors level course. The difference is that she now understands and can apply the information that is presented to her in the class each day. Oh, and there is another difference, as well: the "weight" of her grade is less because she is in a lower level. To a college admissions officer, it will look like she struggled in math terms one and two, dropped down a level and "did not work very hard" since she earned the same kind of grade. It might be interpreted that she was lazy and did not wish to work as hard in the honors level course. I doubt very much that a college admissions officer will even consider that the honors level course had a completely farcical grading policy, while the college preparation level had (at least) a more honest one.
Maybe in lieu of a grade report this quarter, I'll submit a narrative without grades for my son, and include a copy of this blog post for consideration by the superintendent. I wonder how I will be "graded" (judged) as a home schooling parent if I do that?
Monday, March 28, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
"Artistic" how do you define it?
We home school our son. He is thirteen years old. We took him out of school because he is artistic and we wanted to give him the time and space to explore the world as an artist. (I know, if someone is an artist, they draw on all surfaces and often get in trouble for drawing during class if they go to public school. Instead of that experience, we decided to just let our son develop his artistic self.)
That tangent aside, I want to write a bit about what this designation often says to those who hear about it. For example, my daughter will be asked about her sibling, with questions like "What grade is your brother in?" or "When will your brother go to high school?" or "Do you have a sibling?" ("Yes.") "Is he at the junior high?" When she answers these kinds of questions, she often mentions that her brother is home schooled. Her peers wonder why he is home schooled and she is not, as that seems different to their experience. They know people, possibly, who home school or have heard about it, but they don't know anyone whose family does both.
This, inevitably, leads to her saying that her brother is artistic and so that is why he is home schooled. From here, people usually think she just mispronounced his diagnosis as "autistic." They ask "how bad is he?" or "Is it awful having an autistic sibling?" She repeats herself, correcting them, "No, not autistic, artistic. He, like, draws." It just gets more comical from there. They ask if he is a social misfit or something and so "has" to be home schooled because he didn't "fit in" with his peers.
The funny thing is that my son is far from the cliche and stereotypical "teen artist." I guess without the angst of school, he has no "reason" to rebel, to dye his hair colors (like my husband and I did in high school) or to wear lots of black with chains hanging off his body. He doesn't have any piercings or other kinds of clothes. In fact, he wears straight cut jeans most often with a plain t-shirt (long or short sleeve depending on the temperature). He doesn't "look" like a artist...whatever artists look like. So, no, he's not home because he was just too "weird" to go to school.
He was well-behaved in school, and was one of those singular kids you find one of in each grade, who actually got along with the geeks, the freaks, the jocks and the popular crowd. None of these groups ever admonished him for hanging with the others, either. He is just a good person who got along well with everyone. Some days he'd be on the playground tossing a football and others he'd be imitating sword play with the most dedicated of fantasy fans.
It actually tells me something about the school environment and our society when teens automatically think that you can't possibly home school one child while sending the other to school. It says something about people in general being in "one camp" or another. I have a hard time with total criticism of school amongst home schoolers when one of my kids loves school. I have a hard time accepting all the crap so totally wrong with school, too, as I see the potential for home schooling and how it really supports healthy development without compromise. It tells me something that when a teen hears the word "artistic" that we hear so much about "autism" that we associate the term with a neurological difference and can't imagine that home schooling someone so they can pursue art is anything but out of the norm. Then, when they understand that it is about art, they automatically assume that art equals freak or social misfit. What does that say about our view of art and its value in society or the value we place on artists as a part of our society and world? Considering the lack of arts education in public schools, I guess it says a lot about the value we convey to students about art and its place in our society.
Before reading this blog, when you just saw the title, what did you think when you read "artistic" and considered a definition for the term? When do we move from teens who think of "artistic" as autistic or social misfit to something else? I hear the word "artistic" think of an adjective meaning someone has a talent of some kind (as a writer, painter, sculptor, illustrator and so on). I hear it and consider aesthetics and creativity. Why do our high school students think "artistic" is a bad way to describe someone, something that denotes a negative connotation?
That tangent aside, I want to write a bit about what this designation often says to those who hear about it. For example, my daughter will be asked about her sibling, with questions like "What grade is your brother in?" or "When will your brother go to high school?" or "Do you have a sibling?" ("Yes.") "Is he at the junior high?" When she answers these kinds of questions, she often mentions that her brother is home schooled. Her peers wonder why he is home schooled and she is not, as that seems different to their experience. They know people, possibly, who home school or have heard about it, but they don't know anyone whose family does both.
This, inevitably, leads to her saying that her brother is artistic and so that is why he is home schooled. From here, people usually think she just mispronounced his diagnosis as "autistic." They ask "how bad is he?" or "Is it awful having an autistic sibling?" She repeats herself, correcting them, "No, not autistic, artistic. He, like, draws." It just gets more comical from there. They ask if he is a social misfit or something and so "has" to be home schooled because he didn't "fit in" with his peers.
The funny thing is that my son is far from the cliche and stereotypical "teen artist." I guess without the angst of school, he has no "reason" to rebel, to dye his hair colors (like my husband and I did in high school) or to wear lots of black with chains hanging off his body. He doesn't have any piercings or other kinds of clothes. In fact, he wears straight cut jeans most often with a plain t-shirt (long or short sleeve depending on the temperature). He doesn't "look" like a artist...whatever artists look like. So, no, he's not home because he was just too "weird" to go to school.
He was well-behaved in school, and was one of those singular kids you find one of in each grade, who actually got along with the geeks, the freaks, the jocks and the popular crowd. None of these groups ever admonished him for hanging with the others, either. He is just a good person who got along well with everyone. Some days he'd be on the playground tossing a football and others he'd be imitating sword play with the most dedicated of fantasy fans.
It actually tells me something about the school environment and our society when teens automatically think that you can't possibly home school one child while sending the other to school. It says something about people in general being in "one camp" or another. I have a hard time with total criticism of school amongst home schoolers when one of my kids loves school. I have a hard time accepting all the crap so totally wrong with school, too, as I see the potential for home schooling and how it really supports healthy development without compromise. It tells me something that when a teen hears the word "artistic" that we hear so much about "autism" that we associate the term with a neurological difference and can't imagine that home schooling someone so they can pursue art is anything but out of the norm. Then, when they understand that it is about art, they automatically assume that art equals freak or social misfit. What does that say about our view of art and its value in society or the value we place on artists as a part of our society and world? Considering the lack of arts education in public schools, I guess it says a lot about the value we convey to students about art and its place in our society.
Before reading this blog, when you just saw the title, what did you think when you read "artistic" and considered a definition for the term? When do we move from teens who think of "artistic" as autistic or social misfit to something else? I hear the word "artistic" think of an adjective meaning someone has a talent of some kind (as a writer, painter, sculptor, illustrator and so on). I hear it and consider aesthetics and creativity. Why do our high school students think "artistic" is a bad way to describe someone, something that denotes a negative connotation?
Visual Journaling
I've been part of an Artist Trading Card group for a while now. I finally dove into this as I've wanted to make this mini pieces of artwork for a long time. In addition to this, some people from the group are doing "JAM Journals" where you prep your journal (or not) and then hand it off to someone else in the group to decorate a page, then it goes to someone else, and so on. In the midst of this, I found an online workshop series through Strathmore about visual journaling, featuring their new Visual Journals. The workshops have been really helpful in giving me ideas for this kind of journal.
I've always loved altered books and that kind of thing, but never knew where to start. All that white paper in a journal can be daunting. Then, how do you make space for writing if you've collaged things all over the place? Between the workshop and participating in the JAM Journal sessions with fellow ATC artists, I've come up with some suggestions/answers to that question. I plan to share these in this blog to offer a little sampling of ideas you might try if you're interested in a visual journal or a combination writing/art journal. I have two different ideas for this, so I will share pictures as I work through each. I, myself, will determine which format I think works best for me in the end, or for a particular purpose.
The theme of one of my journals will be a reflection on Pamela Bowles' documentary, "Who Does She Think She Is?" which is about contemporary women artists, the place of women in art history and what it means to be a woman, mother and artist. I plan to use one of my journals as a place to reflect upon my own female artist self, to examine those women who are working right alongside me today, and to honor those who have paved some of the way and whose work influences my life. This is the first one I'll prepare.
For this journal, I'm starting with a small book, so it is easy to hold in my hands, and not daunting at all to approach. I decided to partition some pages to set up a flow. This is kind of an "artist's outline" if you want to look at it that way.
I've always loved altered books and that kind of thing, but never knew where to start. All that white paper in a journal can be daunting. Then, how do you make space for writing if you've collaged things all over the place? Between the workshop and participating in the JAM Journal sessions with fellow ATC artists, I've come up with some suggestions/answers to that question. I plan to share these in this blog to offer a little sampling of ideas you might try if you're interested in a visual journal or a combination writing/art journal. I have two different ideas for this, so I will share pictures as I work through each. I, myself, will determine which format I think works best for me in the end, or for a particular purpose.
The theme of one of my journals will be a reflection on Pamela Bowles' documentary, "Who Does She Think She Is?" which is about contemporary women artists, the place of women in art history and what it means to be a woman, mother and artist. I plan to use one of my journals as a place to reflect upon my own female artist self, to examine those women who are working right alongside me today, and to honor those who have paved some of the way and whose work influences my life. This is the first one I'll prepare.
 |
| Strathmore Visual Journal with bristol paper 3.5" x 5" / 48 pages |
The top photo shows my notes to myself about themes and how I want to prep the cover of the journal. I plan to cover the chip board cover with decorative paper, and to use endpaper to "finish" the inside of the cover. Here, I will put contact information so that if I ever lose the book, hopefully someone will return it to me!
The second photo (in the middle) and the third photo (on the right) show the pages I've marked for altering. Since I plan to write in this journal, I want to leave some white space, or at least "space" even if I use papers to cover the page itself. What I did was count out a certain number of pages so that the embellishments and "art" I add are evenly spaced in the journal. This will help me plan so that there are not ten pages of artwork, five pages of all writing and then another few pages of a combination. The book will have a much more "put together" feel and yet will seem somewhat accidental in the way those kinds of altered/visual journals always appear when we see them done by others!
With marked pages, if I want a color theme or other kind of theme, it can be found throughout the book, but in an organized fashion. It's like that mathematical concept of there being order in chaos. Looking at the pine tree outside my office window here, I see that the branches are not entirely symmetrical. However, they are evenly spaced around the tree, if not mirror image branches on every side. That's my idea of "order in chaos" today. Or, it's like the small dip bowl I keep filled with tiny pebbles from the beach. Sure, they vary in color and size and shape, even geological make-up. However, being contained in one place, they are organized randomness.
As I create this journal, I'll add photos so that you may watch the process as it unfolds. This is learning I'm doing at the same time. It's not a tutorial, but rather an experiment I'm sharing as I move through each step. Feel free to join in, to post or email comments or share your own visual journal, artist journal or other journaling techniques.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Not so adroit...will somebody PLEASE tell me how to do this right?
I'm in the midst of deciding about what to do about the two years remaining in my daughter's high school education. My husband and I do not want her to graduate from the school she attends right now. As we look at options, from private schools to online and correspondence schools to home schooling, we then start wondering about our choices for our son. He home schools as an eighth grader, and he does not consider public high school an option for his continuing education. As we consider what colleges want what where our daughter is concerned, we can't help but also consider our son's path.
Panic mode sets in and I wonder, "Does he need a formal program?" "Will a college accept an alternative education?" "Does it matter since he might just start with community college courses sometime within the next four years and will then have a college transcript so schools might not care so much about what he did or didn't do for 'high school'?" "Why do some colleges STILL claim a student, even with an associates degree, needs a high school diploma?" "Does it matter because my son wants art school, and there are plenty of commercial art schools that do not care about this stuff?" "In the end, won't companies hire him based much more on his portfolio, and his ability to express himself in writing and in person, rather than on the college he attended or what his grades were in art school?"
And so it goes, the spiraling questions that whirl and twirl and knot up your neck, shoulders and brain.
If I STOP THE MADNESS a second, I know that the bottom line or point of all of these questions is, "How do I do this right?" It's the age-old question parents ask, no matter whether their children are in private, exclusive schools or in the "worst" school districts in America. It's what parents ask as they decide to enroll their children in lessons of whatever sort. It's what they consider as they sign their shy kid up for theatre to "bring him out," or register their child for basketball because she can't be convinced to come inside from the hoop in the driveway and makes every shot she throws.
It's not even doing it right, but doing it right for their particular child. I mean, "right" for a certain shy kid might mean theatre lessons do help him come out from a shell, while for another shy kid, the lessons are torture. The first child might be "brought out" and become a newscaster, musician, actor, teacher, speaking before crowds regularly. The second child might suffer through it and then find his career in a lab one day, working mostly with glass tubes and vials and interacting only with one person at a time. The first child's memories of theatre are ones he will talk about with co-workers, years he'll credit to his parents for his success. The second child's memories will be buried deeply and when he has his own shy child, he will argue with his spouse about not forcing their shy child into such public displays. He'll cite his success in science and the lab and his pain from those days on the stage as reasons to "not do that to my own kid."
This scenario has many analogies, of course.
As I consider these myriad paths and options for high school and education, I remind myself that my anxiety over it all stems from wanting "the best" for my children so they are "happy" and "successful" in their adult lives. What is best, anyway? Is it "best right now" or "best in the future?" How do I tell what will be best for the future? What is happiness and success? Aren't these defined and applied differently by each individual person?
When, as parents, we claim we want our children's lives free of conflict and disappointment, for what are we really asking? Do we mean it? What if our lives had never held discouraging news or rejection or turmoil? What kind of people would we be if we never had any hardship? When we see characters in film who are portrayed as not really having faced much adversity, we harbor ill-will toward them, and we relish in their final, whether it's their first or not, failure in the film. We cheer for the underdog, right? What kind of people would our children be if they never faced failure, difficulty or disappointment? What if every college to which they applied accepted them? Then, once ensconced in some "ideal" place, they had only wonderful professors and never struggled with a single course. What if upon graduation, they were hired by the first company to which they applied for a job, a job they wanted? Then, as the years passed, they were never overlooked for a promotion, always got raises no matter the economy, and got pregnant on the first try. No one would tolerate them, that's what would become of our children! Everything would be so perfect that if they got the wrong sandwich at lunch one time, they'd be reduced to a teary-eyed whiner for whom no one else would have empathy of any kind.
If you've seen The Social Network, do you feel any compassionate emotion toward the Winklevoss twins? Even if you're a follower of the Dalai Lama, you might find it a reach to feel for their loss at the Olympics in rowing. You'd justify your lack of empathy with the thought, "Who gives a crap? They are rich, have Harvard degrees, family connections, and every opportunity in the world. They lost a rowing race? Big flippin' deal!" Even if you felt an inkling of empathy over their actual loss, you'd quickly think, "It's likely disappointing for them, but it's certainly not the end of their world. They've got LOTS toward which to look forward!"
Even this lengthy self-pep-talk does nothing to relieve the question streaming and screaming through my head, "THAT'S ALL WONDERFUL BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR KIDS RIGHT NOW AND WOULDN'T YOU WISH UPON THEM THE PROBLEMS FACED BY THE WINKELVOSS TWINS OVER SOME OTHER TROUBLE YOU ARE WORRIED THEY MIGHT HAVE?"
This is the dilemma of parenting, we wish our children have a better world than we, and yet we want them to know hardship because it teaches us to value what we have. Like Mac/Apple products, kids don't come with instruction manuals. You have to "log on" to parenting and try things out to see whether they work or not. The scary part is that we can't "reset to factory settings" if we mess up...
Panic mode sets in and I wonder, "Does he need a formal program?" "Will a college accept an alternative education?" "Does it matter since he might just start with community college courses sometime within the next four years and will then have a college transcript so schools might not care so much about what he did or didn't do for 'high school'?" "Why do some colleges STILL claim a student, even with an associates degree, needs a high school diploma?" "Does it matter because my son wants art school, and there are plenty of commercial art schools that do not care about this stuff?" "In the end, won't companies hire him based much more on his portfolio, and his ability to express himself in writing and in person, rather than on the college he attended or what his grades were in art school?"
And so it goes, the spiraling questions that whirl and twirl and knot up your neck, shoulders and brain.
If I STOP THE MADNESS a second, I know that the bottom line or point of all of these questions is, "How do I do this right?" It's the age-old question parents ask, no matter whether their children are in private, exclusive schools or in the "worst" school districts in America. It's what parents ask as they decide to enroll their children in lessons of whatever sort. It's what they consider as they sign their shy kid up for theatre to "bring him out," or register their child for basketball because she can't be convinced to come inside from the hoop in the driveway and makes every shot she throws.
It's not even doing it right, but doing it right for their particular child. I mean, "right" for a certain shy kid might mean theatre lessons do help him come out from a shell, while for another shy kid, the lessons are torture. The first child might be "brought out" and become a newscaster, musician, actor, teacher, speaking before crowds regularly. The second child might suffer through it and then find his career in a lab one day, working mostly with glass tubes and vials and interacting only with one person at a time. The first child's memories of theatre are ones he will talk about with co-workers, years he'll credit to his parents for his success. The second child's memories will be buried deeply and when he has his own shy child, he will argue with his spouse about not forcing their shy child into such public displays. He'll cite his success in science and the lab and his pain from those days on the stage as reasons to "not do that to my own kid."
This scenario has many analogies, of course.
As I consider these myriad paths and options for high school and education, I remind myself that my anxiety over it all stems from wanting "the best" for my children so they are "happy" and "successful" in their adult lives. What is best, anyway? Is it "best right now" or "best in the future?" How do I tell what will be best for the future? What is happiness and success? Aren't these defined and applied differently by each individual person?
When, as parents, we claim we want our children's lives free of conflict and disappointment, for what are we really asking? Do we mean it? What if our lives had never held discouraging news or rejection or turmoil? What kind of people would we be if we never had any hardship? When we see characters in film who are portrayed as not really having faced much adversity, we harbor ill-will toward them, and we relish in their final, whether it's their first or not, failure in the film. We cheer for the underdog, right? What kind of people would our children be if they never faced failure, difficulty or disappointment? What if every college to which they applied accepted them? Then, once ensconced in some "ideal" place, they had only wonderful professors and never struggled with a single course. What if upon graduation, they were hired by the first company to which they applied for a job, a job they wanted? Then, as the years passed, they were never overlooked for a promotion, always got raises no matter the economy, and got pregnant on the first try. No one would tolerate them, that's what would become of our children! Everything would be so perfect that if they got the wrong sandwich at lunch one time, they'd be reduced to a teary-eyed whiner for whom no one else would have empathy of any kind.
If you've seen The Social Network, do you feel any compassionate emotion toward the Winklevoss twins? Even if you're a follower of the Dalai Lama, you might find it a reach to feel for their loss at the Olympics in rowing. You'd justify your lack of empathy with the thought, "Who gives a crap? They are rich, have Harvard degrees, family connections, and every opportunity in the world. They lost a rowing race? Big flippin' deal!" Even if you felt an inkling of empathy over their actual loss, you'd quickly think, "It's likely disappointing for them, but it's certainly not the end of their world. They've got LOTS toward which to look forward!"
Even this lengthy self-pep-talk does nothing to relieve the question streaming and screaming through my head, "THAT'S ALL WONDERFUL BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR KIDS RIGHT NOW AND WOULDN'T YOU WISH UPON THEM THE PROBLEMS FACED BY THE WINKELVOSS TWINS OVER SOME OTHER TROUBLE YOU ARE WORRIED THEY MIGHT HAVE?"
This is the dilemma of parenting, we wish our children have a better world than we, and yet we want them to know hardship because it teaches us to value what we have. Like Mac/Apple products, kids don't come with instruction manuals. You have to "log on" to parenting and try things out to see whether they work or not. The scary part is that we can't "reset to factory settings" if we mess up...
Rape: It's Out of Control
I just received an email from a community group in which one of the members has a child living in Japan. The person wrote to update the community members about his daughter's situation and painted a rather grim picture about the darker side of what this disaster has presented for the women of Japan, one we're not seeing on the news here in the United States. He reports that in the area in which his daughter is staying, there have been many rapes since the earthquake and tsunami.
I am not a scholar of rape (what a grim subject to study for any length of time). However, I have read a number of books by feminist writers, such as Susan Faludi. In her book, Stiffed, she writes not about rape, but rather about the abuse of women. She was interested in what causes men to lash out at women, and wanted to understand what she thought was the power men felt when they abused women. She attended support and recovery groups for male abusers. What she found was this: men did not gain or feel a sense of power before, during or after episodes of violence. Instead, the men in these groups spoke about a loss of control and a sense of powerlessness that instigated the abuse. The lashing out was the result of feeling they had no control over things in their lives, not from a real sense of control over their girlfriends or wives.
You find rape in out-of-control war zones. There are documented instances of otherwise well-adjusted men participating in group rape during Vietnam, and of the militarily condoned rape as part of war, such as in Kosovo. During Hurricane Katrina, word of rape running as rampant as the water filtered into news coverage. Now, there is a natural disaster in Japan, and men preying on women.
Hearing about women in Japan who are under attack, I wonder what it is about war, natural disasters and other extreme situations that drives this behavior in some men. Is it part of the flight/fight response and rape in these extreme circumstances is "merely" a version of fighting when between a man and woman? (As I reiterate in the next paragraph when I ask equally provocative questions, I do not attempt to rationalize or excuse the act of rape whatsoever by asking this question.) Why do men feeling out of control or threatened commit violence and/or rape? (I don't mean all men, but a greater number than you find among women.) I assume that the men in question, in Vietnam, Kosovo, New Orleans and now Japan, are not otherwise rapists. The assumption is that without this extreme circumstance, these men would not engage in this behavior. (Yes, there are people who take advantage of those in dire situations from various angles and by various means. However, I refer here specifically to people who are not otherwise swindlers, thieves, or prone to violence or rape.)
I wonder if at its most basic level, when the life of the man is threatened, such as in war or a natural disaster, is rape part of the biological imperative? I by no means excuse this behavior or seek to rationalize or condone it in any way by asking that question. We are in modern societies where our education and socialization can and should overcome many otherwise biological desires. For example, pregnancy just because we've become fertile is not socially acceptable in modern times, nor has it been for some time. As life expectancy grows, reproduction has been delayed in developed societies. With the growth of towns and cities, we also delay our most basic biological functions such as voiding the bladder and ridding our bodies of excrement. Thus, even if the brain stem contributes somehow to a man seeking out a woman to rape because of extreme circumstances, the man's social conditioning and evolved human brain should kick in and help him realize the ultimate error of this action. And, again, for good measure, even if there was some biological explanation for this behavior in these extreme circumstances, it would still never, ever excuse or otherwise make it "o.k." for someone to commit rape.
I ask these questions because I wonder if we reflected more upon them, we could thereby negate the behavior with awareness. We're always asked those "what if you were on a deserted island?" questions or to consider "what would you do as one of the last few people on earth?" scenarios. What if we started asking one another if we would or could ever rape another person? It's not exactly first-date or ice-breaker at a party conversation, yet like other topics, it might be one worth discussing. The more we understand ourselves, the more we understand one another, and vice verse.
The parent posting to the group said his daughter does not leave the apartment unless she is with her boyfriend. She keeps the doors and windows locked if he's not home, as well. When we think of roads being "unfit" for lone women travelers, we think of early history when it was safe for neither men nor women to travel unaccompanied. We think of the year 1011, not 2011.
As always, if you are more comfortable replying via private email, I'm open to that option, too.
Lastly, I openly admit that I have not studied rape or its possible origins in human behavior. I ask these questions as I admit my ignorance of this subject. I seek further education about it, and that is why I make this post. Like all learning, but especially that which seeks to eradicate something, we ask silly questions, propose various hypotheses and study the mechanism of whatever it is we're desirous of eradicating. Be it a disease or a social ill, this is the process of repairing what we find wrong.
I am not a scholar of rape (what a grim subject to study for any length of time). However, I have read a number of books by feminist writers, such as Susan Faludi. In her book, Stiffed, she writes not about rape, but rather about the abuse of women. She was interested in what causes men to lash out at women, and wanted to understand what she thought was the power men felt when they abused women. She attended support and recovery groups for male abusers. What she found was this: men did not gain or feel a sense of power before, during or after episodes of violence. Instead, the men in these groups spoke about a loss of control and a sense of powerlessness that instigated the abuse. The lashing out was the result of feeling they had no control over things in their lives, not from a real sense of control over their girlfriends or wives.
You find rape in out-of-control war zones. There are documented instances of otherwise well-adjusted men participating in group rape during Vietnam, and of the militarily condoned rape as part of war, such as in Kosovo. During Hurricane Katrina, word of rape running as rampant as the water filtered into news coverage. Now, there is a natural disaster in Japan, and men preying on women.
Hearing about women in Japan who are under attack, I wonder what it is about war, natural disasters and other extreme situations that drives this behavior in some men. Is it part of the flight/fight response and rape in these extreme circumstances is "merely" a version of fighting when between a man and woman? (As I reiterate in the next paragraph when I ask equally provocative questions, I do not attempt to rationalize or excuse the act of rape whatsoever by asking this question.) Why do men feeling out of control or threatened commit violence and/or rape? (I don't mean all men, but a greater number than you find among women.) I assume that the men in question, in Vietnam, Kosovo, New Orleans and now Japan, are not otherwise rapists. The assumption is that without this extreme circumstance, these men would not engage in this behavior. (Yes, there are people who take advantage of those in dire situations from various angles and by various means. However, I refer here specifically to people who are not otherwise swindlers, thieves, or prone to violence or rape.)
I wonder if at its most basic level, when the life of the man is threatened, such as in war or a natural disaster, is rape part of the biological imperative? I by no means excuse this behavior or seek to rationalize or condone it in any way by asking that question. We are in modern societies where our education and socialization can and should overcome many otherwise biological desires. For example, pregnancy just because we've become fertile is not socially acceptable in modern times, nor has it been for some time. As life expectancy grows, reproduction has been delayed in developed societies. With the growth of towns and cities, we also delay our most basic biological functions such as voiding the bladder and ridding our bodies of excrement. Thus, even if the brain stem contributes somehow to a man seeking out a woman to rape because of extreme circumstances, the man's social conditioning and evolved human brain should kick in and help him realize the ultimate error of this action. And, again, for good measure, even if there was some biological explanation for this behavior in these extreme circumstances, it would still never, ever excuse or otherwise make it "o.k." for someone to commit rape.
I ask these questions because I wonder if we reflected more upon them, we could thereby negate the behavior with awareness. We're always asked those "what if you were on a deserted island?" questions or to consider "what would you do as one of the last few people on earth?" scenarios. What if we started asking one another if we would or could ever rape another person? It's not exactly first-date or ice-breaker at a party conversation, yet like other topics, it might be one worth discussing. The more we understand ourselves, the more we understand one another, and vice verse.
The parent posting to the group said his daughter does not leave the apartment unless she is with her boyfriend. She keeps the doors and windows locked if he's not home, as well. When we think of roads being "unfit" for lone women travelers, we think of early history when it was safe for neither men nor women to travel unaccompanied. We think of the year 1011, not 2011.
As always, if you are more comfortable replying via private email, I'm open to that option, too.
Lastly, I openly admit that I have not studied rape or its possible origins in human behavior. I ask these questions as I admit my ignorance of this subject. I seek further education about it, and that is why I make this post. Like all learning, but especially that which seeks to eradicate something, we ask silly questions, propose various hypotheses and study the mechanism of whatever it is we're desirous of eradicating. Be it a disease or a social ill, this is the process of repairing what we find wrong.
Friday, March 11, 2011
How and Why Does Sex/Gender Influence Writing?
Tai Carmen is a guest blogger in the column written by Melissa Corliss Delorenzo for March 9, 2011 at her circle e-zine. Carmen writes about being a woman writer and reflects upon what this means. She challenges the reader to consider whether gender/sex is significant (and whether it should be) for writers. What does it mean to be a woman writer? Aren't we just writers like men? Do men consider themselves "man" writers?
This connects to my recent reflections on The Handmaid's Tale and its consideration as part of the canon of dystopian literature. Here is most of my comment posted in response to Carmen's article:
As someone defining feminism at "mid-life" and as a writer, I find the distinction fascinating. My husband and I talk all the time about our collection of books and how they are mostly male-written, how most of our favorite writers are male. We struggle with this as it is not a conscious choice. It's not even "unconscious" but rather the result of actually picking up a book and reading the synopsis and/or reviews. I am a bit put off myself about Woolf's call to the androgynous mind. I've asked myself quite recently why writing from the sex/gender of half the population is so isolating? I wonder if part of it is actually biological. Is women's experience of life with internal sexual organs, pregnancy and birth so unimaginable to men that this is where the difference lies in writing? Why does our anatomy influence us so? And, let's not forget to ask, why shouldn't it?
Laura Cude, who writes a blog on this site about feminist literature, asked why "The Handmaid's Tale" is not usually found on lists of dystopian literature, especially in college classrooms claiming to study the topic. I had not read the book myself at that point. Being a fan of dystopian literature, I ran right out to read the book and discern if there was a reason this book was passed over in favor (inevitably) of male writers in the genre. What I discovered was this: in Atwood's book, we get an entirely female viewpoint of our world gone wrong. We see what it is for a woman to engage in sex without a relationship, without passion. We see the jealousy of women who cannot conceive of those who can. Atwood certainly does not intimate that the male involved seems to derive any more pleasure from the impregnation "ceremony" as it is called, so we cannot believe this "world" is any more pleasant for men, per se. As I read the book and considered it from a male viewpoint, I can see how its appeal might not be as universal as the dystopian novels of Huxley or Orwell due to the female bodily experience featured so prevalently.
I am still asking myself why this is. Is the male writer actually the more "androgynous" as Woolf claims women writers need to be for the appeal to be present? I will have to re-read "Brave New World" and "1984" with this question in mind to get a more definitive answer. Having re-read another favorite book recently, "Fight Club," I believe this is written from an entirely male perspective. I cannot imagine the book being written by a woman. Its appeal to me is the feminist principles of questioning gender roles imposed by society and the characters' growth stemming from relationship. This leads to me ask whether women read literature written by men to understand the human condition itself and/or to understand men better, and to ask why men do not seem as interested in understanding women better through reading women writers, especially those who are writing from a female viewpoint. Of course, I ask these questions from my own experience, not with any assumption that this thought process applies overall. Yet, when we look at the best-seller list, we must determine what the books that are selling are about but more importantly, we then have to ask who is buying and reading these books? It's the sales figures that will tell us the answer to the underlying question. Are men buying those six books in the top ten list written by women? If they are, in equal or greater numbers to women, that tells us something. Which books of the six are being bought by men and which aren't?
I am interested in thoughts and views on this. While I myself hate those "name your top three favorite books" or "which three books would you need on a deserted island?" questions, I ask you to consider the books that speak to you on a deep and profound level. Mostly, I suppose I ask you to consider which fiction you feel says something in a way that means something to you. Once you torture yourself over which "three" (o.k., three to five, or just one is fine, too) are your "favorite," then please share why and if you'd be so generous, consider whether you believe the books are written from a male or female viewpoint and whether they'd be (in your opinion) appealing to both men and women. Oh, and while you're answering that, might I ask you to share why you believe this?
I know it's a lot to ask. However, I'm quite sincere and earnest in my interest! Feel free to comment below or to send an email directly. If you comment on FB or via email, let me know if you are comfortable with me sharing your response via this blog, too, as I'd love to present different viewpoints on this topic in the future.
This connects to my recent reflections on The Handmaid's Tale and its consideration as part of the canon of dystopian literature. Here is most of my comment posted in response to Carmen's article:
As someone defining feminism at "mid-life" and as a writer, I find the distinction fascinating. My husband and I talk all the time about our collection of books and how they are mostly male-written, how most of our favorite writers are male. We struggle with this as it is not a conscious choice. It's not even "unconscious" but rather the result of actually picking up a book and reading the synopsis and/or reviews. I am a bit put off myself about Woolf's call to the androgynous mind. I've asked myself quite recently why writing from the sex/gender of half the population is so isolating? I wonder if part of it is actually biological. Is women's experience of life with internal sexual organs, pregnancy and birth so unimaginable to men that this is where the difference lies in writing? Why does our anatomy influence us so? And, let's not forget to ask, why shouldn't it?
Laura Cude, who writes a blog on this site about feminist literature, asked why "The Handmaid's Tale" is not usually found on lists of dystopian literature, especially in college classrooms claiming to study the topic. I had not read the book myself at that point. Being a fan of dystopian literature, I ran right out to read the book and discern if there was a reason this book was passed over in favor (inevitably) of male writers in the genre. What I discovered was this: in Atwood's book, we get an entirely female viewpoint of our world gone wrong. We see what it is for a woman to engage in sex without a relationship, without passion. We see the jealousy of women who cannot conceive of those who can. Atwood certainly does not intimate that the male involved seems to derive any more pleasure from the impregnation "ceremony" as it is called, so we cannot believe this "world" is any more pleasant for men, per se. As I read the book and considered it from a male viewpoint, I can see how its appeal might not be as universal as the dystopian novels of Huxley or Orwell due to the female bodily experience featured so prevalently.
I am still asking myself why this is. Is the male writer actually the more "androgynous" as Woolf claims women writers need to be for the appeal to be present? I will have to re-read "Brave New World" and "1984" with this question in mind to get a more definitive answer. Having re-read another favorite book recently, "Fight Club," I believe this is written from an entirely male perspective. I cannot imagine the book being written by a woman. Its appeal to me is the feminist principles of questioning gender roles imposed by society and the characters' growth stemming from relationship. This leads to me ask whether women read literature written by men to understand the human condition itself and/or to understand men better, and to ask why men do not seem as interested in understanding women better through reading women writers, especially those who are writing from a female viewpoint. Of course, I ask these questions from my own experience, not with any assumption that this thought process applies overall. Yet, when we look at the best-seller list, we must determine what the books that are selling are about but more importantly, we then have to ask who is buying and reading these books? It's the sales figures that will tell us the answer to the underlying question. Are men buying those six books in the top ten list written by women? If they are, in equal or greater numbers to women, that tells us something. Which books of the six are being bought by men and which aren't?
I am interested in thoughts and views on this. While I myself hate those "name your top three favorite books" or "which three books would you need on a deserted island?" questions, I ask you to consider the books that speak to you on a deep and profound level. Mostly, I suppose I ask you to consider which fiction you feel says something in a way that means something to you. Once you torture yourself over which "three" (o.k., three to five, or just one is fine, too) are your "favorite," then please share why and if you'd be so generous, consider whether you believe the books are written from a male or female viewpoint and whether they'd be (in your opinion) appealing to both men and women. Oh, and while you're answering that, might I ask you to share why you believe this?
I know it's a lot to ask. However, I'm quite sincere and earnest in my interest! Feel free to comment below or to send an email directly. If you comment on FB or via email, let me know if you are comfortable with me sharing your response via this blog, too, as I'd love to present different viewpoints on this topic in the future.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Panic, the editor
A while back, I wrote about the muse and how "she" was after me. She was relentless in her pursuit, calling my attention away from responsibilities and obligations. After another deadline recently, I consider not the muse, but that nit-picky perfectionist, the inner editor.
I've read before that writers are the only people for whom writing is difficult. Any writer will tell you that writing is not only difficult, but also torturous. Everyone else just writes whatever is necessary. We writers think the balance of the universe and our very lives depend on each and every word choice. Am I writing with an active voice? Is there a better verb I might use to describe an action, a thought? Do all my sentences begin with prepositional phrases? While I don't want to end a sentence with a preposition, does it sound pretentious to write using "which" in that way in a sentence?
After we get over every word of every sentence, we're then left to consider the piece as a whole. Is it good or crap? Will anyone want to read it? If they do, will they like it? Will it say something to them? While I write a blog such as this for my personal sense of satisfaction at having accomplished some regular writing, my ultimate goal is connection, even if I am never aware of that connection.
Why else do people write? Novels are the ways in which an author reaches out. Whether even one fan letter or favorable review ever makes its way to the writer, he or she is still writing to say something, hoping that what he or she says means something to whomever is doing the reading. I suppose this is why we obsess over every sentence and word. This is why we worry about the overall theme and whether our paragraphs are coherent. Is our conclusion strong and does it tie everything together?
Most writers read a lot. We "hear" from other writers this way. We decide whom we like, the kinds of cadence and language that appeal to us, that reach us. We hope to make this difference. We hope that others nod in familiar agreement, or that our words otherwise awaken in someone an appreciation of an alternate viewpoint. We share our struggles with the human condition with the hope that we will find solace and provide solace at the same time.
When under deadline, panic settles in as a frazzled editor. Panic as the inner editor is never a good thing. Panic shows up, puffing cigarettes and pacing the room on amphetamines. He races through our mind until we aren't sure whether we're in the subject or predicate, whether a word is in use as a noun or verb. We look up at him from our seated position before the keyboard as he hovers over our shoulder, pointing and making smudges on the screen. Finally, we must stop and remove him from the room. We tell him to put out the cigarette and open the window before he leaves so we can breathe clean, fresh air. With the window open, we hear him race away, mumbling to himself about our deadline, about our inadequacy. Finally, with panic out the door, we settle back before the keyboard. We read what we've written aloud. Maybe we change a few things, good things. Then, we determine that we're done. The piece is as good as it will get after days of drafting and editing. Panic tries to rush back in just as we click the "send" button, we hear his feet on the stairs. He races into the room, breathless and eyes wide. We turn to look at him and proclaim that he's too late. It's done and gone. He collapses into himself, and disappears. We sit, finally satisfied with our work, happy that we've beat panic to the send button.
I've read before that writers are the only people for whom writing is difficult. Any writer will tell you that writing is not only difficult, but also torturous. Everyone else just writes whatever is necessary. We writers think the balance of the universe and our very lives depend on each and every word choice. Am I writing with an active voice? Is there a better verb I might use to describe an action, a thought? Do all my sentences begin with prepositional phrases? While I don't want to end a sentence with a preposition, does it sound pretentious to write using "which" in that way in a sentence?
After we get over every word of every sentence, we're then left to consider the piece as a whole. Is it good or crap? Will anyone want to read it? If they do, will they like it? Will it say something to them? While I write a blog such as this for my personal sense of satisfaction at having accomplished some regular writing, my ultimate goal is connection, even if I am never aware of that connection.
Why else do people write? Novels are the ways in which an author reaches out. Whether even one fan letter or favorable review ever makes its way to the writer, he or she is still writing to say something, hoping that what he or she says means something to whomever is doing the reading. I suppose this is why we obsess over every sentence and word. This is why we worry about the overall theme and whether our paragraphs are coherent. Is our conclusion strong and does it tie everything together?
Most writers read a lot. We "hear" from other writers this way. We decide whom we like, the kinds of cadence and language that appeal to us, that reach us. We hope to make this difference. We hope that others nod in familiar agreement, or that our words otherwise awaken in someone an appreciation of an alternate viewpoint. We share our struggles with the human condition with the hope that we will find solace and provide solace at the same time.
When under deadline, panic settles in as a frazzled editor. Panic as the inner editor is never a good thing. Panic shows up, puffing cigarettes and pacing the room on amphetamines. He races through our mind until we aren't sure whether we're in the subject or predicate, whether a word is in use as a noun or verb. We look up at him from our seated position before the keyboard as he hovers over our shoulder, pointing and making smudges on the screen. Finally, we must stop and remove him from the room. We tell him to put out the cigarette and open the window before he leaves so we can breathe clean, fresh air. With the window open, we hear him race away, mumbling to himself about our deadline, about our inadequacy. Finally, with panic out the door, we settle back before the keyboard. We read what we've written aloud. Maybe we change a few things, good things. Then, we determine that we're done. The piece is as good as it will get after days of drafting and editing. Panic tries to rush back in just as we click the "send" button, we hear his feet on the stairs. He races into the room, breathless and eyes wide. We turn to look at him and proclaim that he's too late. It's done and gone. He collapses into himself, and disappears. We sit, finally satisfied with our work, happy that we've beat panic to the send button.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
An Open Question to Republicans About Illegal Immigration
The link I include with this post is to an article from the Associated Press about the Republican contention that illegal immigrants are taking jobs from minorities. I do not think this warrants an actual article, as journalism at its best would not just report whatever is being said, but look further into the matter. The question that pops right off the page at me, that has flashing lights and sirens, 3-D effects and clobbers all of my senses is this: WHO IS HIRING THESE ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS?
If American businesses hired only legal residents (or those possessing work permits/visas), would this be an issue? There would be no illegal immigration if jobs could not be found. It is Americans who are offering jobs to illegal immigrants rather than hiring citizens or immigrants with permits or visas.
I know that there are a few cases where illegal immigrants actually possess false papers and stolen social security numbers and "trick" the employment offices of various companies. (Although the prevalence of even this practice is suspect with investigative journalism often finding out that someone in connection with the hiring company is often involved in the procurement of these false documents and identities.) There are certainly those who arrive with papers prior to crossing the border, or who have them waiting upon crossing. I'd really like to know the numbers on this practice compared to the numbers for actual illegals working with no papers. And, I don't buy the stories of people hiring nannies and housekeepers without background investigations a little deeper than someone providing a copy of a Social Security card or license. Would you let someone who did not speak the same language as you, who you hired not through an agency, but who showed up at your door after you placed an advertisement, live in your home or care for your children without a pretty thorough and exhaustive background check?
So, those false-papered illegal immigrants aside, what about the rest of the illegal immigrants? How are they getting jobs, or, rather, as the Republicans put it, taking jobs from minorities (their term, not mine)? Oh, yes! AMERICANS are hiring them. Why aren't the Republicans admonishing those who hire people without papers or who do not perform due diligence in the processing of paperwork so that it would prove false or suspect? Why isn't the journalist asking this question?
I guess that is why there's the Village Adroit...
So, I'm asking! Do you believe that illegal immigrants are taking American jobs? Do you believe they're taking those jobs from minorities, specifically? Who is ultimately at fault, the illegal immigrant for being here or the companies/individuals who hire illegal immigrants? Do you believe that all the people in the United States, "minority status" or "majority status" would have jobs if it weren't for illegal immigrants?
If American businesses hired only legal residents (or those possessing work permits/visas), would this be an issue? There would be no illegal immigration if jobs could not be found. It is Americans who are offering jobs to illegal immigrants rather than hiring citizens or immigrants with permits or visas.
I know that there are a few cases where illegal immigrants actually possess false papers and stolen social security numbers and "trick" the employment offices of various companies. (Although the prevalence of even this practice is suspect with investigative journalism often finding out that someone in connection with the hiring company is often involved in the procurement of these false documents and identities.) There are certainly those who arrive with papers prior to crossing the border, or who have them waiting upon crossing. I'd really like to know the numbers on this practice compared to the numbers for actual illegals working with no papers. And, I don't buy the stories of people hiring nannies and housekeepers without background investigations a little deeper than someone providing a copy of a Social Security card or license. Would you let someone who did not speak the same language as you, who you hired not through an agency, but who showed up at your door after you placed an advertisement, live in your home or care for your children without a pretty thorough and exhaustive background check?
So, those false-papered illegal immigrants aside, what about the rest of the illegal immigrants? How are they getting jobs, or, rather, as the Republicans put it, taking jobs from minorities (their term, not mine)? Oh, yes! AMERICANS are hiring them. Why aren't the Republicans admonishing those who hire people without papers or who do not perform due diligence in the processing of paperwork so that it would prove false or suspect? Why isn't the journalist asking this question?
I guess that is why there's the Village Adroit...
So, I'm asking! Do you believe that illegal immigrants are taking American jobs? Do you believe they're taking those jobs from minorities, specifically? Who is ultimately at fault, the illegal immigrant for being here or the companies/individuals who hire illegal immigrants? Do you believe that all the people in the United States, "minority status" or "majority status" would have jobs if it weren't for illegal immigrants?
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