Katie Salen, founder of Quest to Learn (Q2L), and executive director of the Institute of Play, provides an informative talk on the relevance of play in academic and social learning environments.

I learnt about the video from Edutopia’s newsletter.

There’s this story I like to tell about my introducing “literature” to my children. It involves my eldest. He must have been two. I had bought a copy of Maurice Sendak’s classic, Where the Wild Things Are, to read to him at bed time. I was so proud of myself, suddenly eligible to join the cult of NPRents simply by reading classic Western children’s literature to my children.

My eldest seemed to enjoy the story but then one night he asked me to stop. It seems my venture into classic Western childhood storytelling was scaring the wits out of him! Where Max welcomed the Wild Things and became their king, my child hide from them under his covers after I turned off the lights. And so I learned it wasn’t the “Terrible Twos” causing him to be a “wild thing” - It was the lack of sleep from being so frightened at night!

Needless to say I stopped reading Where the Wild Things Are to him at night. I think we settled on the manic hijinx of The Cat in the Hat instead.

I like the notion of “picture books as art objects” (as Barbara Kiefer defines it) – “a combination of image and idea in a sequence of turning pages that can produce in the reader an effect greater than the sum of the parts.” 

Neil Gaiman and David McKean’s The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish immediately comes to mind. The “mixed media” feel – angular depictions in photographs and ink – of the images enhances the surreal dream-like content of the text.

The story is about a boy who trades his father to a friend for two goldfish. When his mother finds out she demands he get his father back. The situation is complicated when the boy discovers the friend who he swapped with has in turn swapped his father for an electric guitar. The story follows the boy through the various hands who have traded his father.

On the opposite end of the visual spectrum – but no less an art object – is Joyce Sidman and Micelle Berg’s Meow Ruff: A Story in Concrete Poetry. My youngest brought it home from his school’s library. Like Gaiman and McKean’s books, Berg and Sidman use text as a visual instrument to help convey the narrative. Unlike Gaiman and McKean, Berg and Sidman’s images are bright with safe edges. With its Chibi-like illustrations, Meow Ruff is a good introduction to poetry in general – not just concrete poetry.

Embedded in the gray depiction of the poured concrete parking lot: “Parking Lot/ Hot Spot, Black Tar Multicar, Hard Flat Welcome Mat.”

And in the depiction of a tree: “Each Leaf A Map Of Branches Each Twig A Branch Of Leaves Each Branch A Tree Of Twigs Each Tree A Green Haired Slim Chested Great Hearted Gnarl-Armed Strong Legged Deep Rooted One.”

Meow is a cat whose owner has abandoned it in a local park. Ruff is a dog who gets away from his owner and stumbles into the park. A rain storm forces the two – who were initially at odds – to seek shelter together under a picnic table – becoming fast friends.

What’s great about this book is when you have time to think about it, it is a story of abandonment – in Meow’s case purposeful and premeditated – in Ruff’s case just an act of recklessness – that is told in the bright vibrant colors of a child’s birthday card and not the expected subdued colors that signal loss and tragedy.

I think you can take it for granted that the picture book is the first book children experience – meaning it is the first book they interact with physically and emotionally – from turning the pages themselves to interjecting their own ideas as you read. 

I remember as a child I had a set of picture books from Encyclopedia Britannica. I don’t remember how many were in the set but they had solid colors – purple, red, yellow, blue, green, etc. I remember one was numbers and one was nursery rhymes.

I also remember Little Golden Books – thin, hard covered books, with the marbled, golden spine. I remember the three little pigs and a story with a puppy in it.

I remember the first Rice Daddies post I read. It was a contest involving the first book you read. I couldn’t remember the first book I actually read on my own – though I remember its story. It was about a boy with large hands who was awkward until he found a sport that would utilize his hands – football.

I also remember my elementary school teacher reading Tales of the Fourth Grade Nothing to my class. It was a positive and lasting impression (though many scores later, reading the same story to my children I realize my teacher left some parts out).

Books continue to be an integral part of my home – even before the children. My parent’s were avid readers and so are my children’s mother and I. I believe the availability of books and a literature rich environment as well as seeing my parents read all the time fostered a penchant for reading in me.

I don’t know if my children will remember their first book, so let me write it here – Where the Wild Things Are (my eldest) and Go Dog Go (my youngest).

How about you? Do you remember yours? Are they fond memories?

When I posted about the Beverly Hills Unified School District expelling non-district (or “permit”) students I made assumptions. I assumed wealthy residents were seeking to expel middle and low income families from their community. My knowledge of Beverly Hills – a composite of scenes from the Slums of Beverly Hills and pictures of Rodeo Drive.

A commenter on my simultaneous post to K2Twelve told me I was wrong. My commenter from Horace Mann told me the situation was very much the opposite. My commenter told me the wealthy families were actually from outside the Beverly Hills school district. My commenter goes on to say that the Beverly Hills permit policy was being used to “dilute the number of Persian kids in Beverly Hills schools, which the then-Board majority felt drove away white, non-Persian Beverly Hills families to private schools.”

I had never thought of Beverly Hills residents as being anything but wealthy and White -  Assumption #2.

Fatemeh writes on Racialicious about a W article she read titled, “The Persian Conquest.” The title hints at the W author’s (Kevin West) feelings about the influx of Persians in Beverly Hills.

From the myriad of titles he could have chosen, he chose the aggressive one – the negative one – the descriptor of an invader – the one set in the game of Risk. As a 2nd Generation Chinese American, I am particularly sensitive to war inspired immigration descriptors like “conquer” and “invasion.” In social studies, you learn the Chinese built the railroads and the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. If you are lucky you may have a teacher who whispers about the Chinese Exclusion Act and the Internment Camps.

Despite the title, Fatemeh wants to believe Kevin’s intentions were well meaning:

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, right? In attempting to dispel stereotypes, W simply backed them up: showy images of wealth and references to media and real estate empires are uncomfortably close to the stereotypes of “rich Jews” and “Jews running the media and the banks.”

What are the intentions behind this 2007 article from the LA Times: “Diversity program at Beverly Hills High enrolls mostly Asians?” The author says the Beverly Hills diversity permits were begun in 1969 as an effort by school officials to diversify Beverly Hills school campuses -

For decades, the permit program aimed to bring in a deliberate mix of black, Latino and Asian students from outside the city limits… Today, however, the vast majority of the students enrolled with diversity permits at Beverly Hills High are high-performing Asian students… Critics say the program has shifted by default from a program aimed at increasing racial and ethnic diversity to one that simply brings smart, well-rounded students into the district.

Are the critics of a strong Asian presence in the Beverly Hill permit program (which now no longer exists) undermining the significance of “Asian” as an ethnic group embracing a multitude of cultural histories and traditions?  Are they saying all Asians are the same – all East Asian and light skinned? Are they saying that Asians are somehow “less ethnic” (and thus less deserving of public services) than Blacks and Latinos?

Are they making assumptions about Asians? As Kevin West did about Persian immigrants? As I did about Beverly Hills?

Like a baby putting every accessible object in its mouth, we taste the world around us to know what we like and what we don’t care for. We draw conclusions – make assumptions – about new experiences based on the outcomes and sensations of old experiences. We then compile our feelings about these experiences into personal systems of belief that we use to help rationalize the world around us.

Assumptions try to create a “truth” but are not the truth. Our understanding of our world should be mutable – changeable – with growth and personal development. Assumptions are a necessary evil – An evil that can only be repented by thinking more deeply about the roots of what is being assumed.

What would you do to change education if you ruled the world?

That’s how Jon Snyder began the Bank Street Niemeyer Panel at the Times Center on 41st Street – March 1, 2010.

The discussion: Race, Class, and Reform.

The panelists: Irving Hamer Jr., Peter McFarlane, Michael Nettles, Jeannie Oakes, and David Sciarra.

The mental image of James Cagney closing White Heat on top of an oil tank, talking at the sky – shouting – “Top of the World Ma! Top of the World!” And then Pow! White light!

The memory of that Tears for Fears song – What is that ringing at the beginning of the song? – A synthesizer? – “Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back…”

As ruler, Peter McFarlane, Principal at the Hugo Newman College Preparatory School,  desires more community engagement. His comment – “moving schools from mediocre to greatness” – reminded me of Jim Collins’ book, Good to Great. Jim Collins also wrote a monograph appending his book: Good to Great in the Social Sector. It distinguished between the measurements of greatness in the corporate world from those in the social sector. While the processes are elementally the same, the measurements are different.

What is a good school? What is a great school? It is easy to differentiate between bad and good – the two are polar. The distinction between good and great is far more difficult – there is a finer line identifying the two.

I’ve given good schools a lot of thought. I agreed with parts of the UCLA CRESST report, What Makes a Good School? A good school involves parents and the greater community. A great school would involve them in meaningful and transparent ways that promote its overall objectives (as defined by David Labaree and told by Eduwonkette):

1. to prepare children for their place in the economy
2. to achieve democratic equality
3. to nurture social mobility

I believe as Peter believes – community involvement has the potential to transform a mediocre school to a great school.

The community school (by Sarah Fine):

Take neighborhood schools and turn them into community hubs, by extending their hours and broadening their uses. Rather than locking up on weekends and after the dismissal bell each day, a school might keep its facilities open, for use by partner organizations offering tutoring, recreation, health care, child care, meals, or English-as-a-second-language classes. The arrangement is win-win: Service organizations gain facilities and opportunities to collaborate, and families gain a more centralized system of services.

I believe when people are able to personalize an institution, they are much more likely to care about it – nurture and protect it. While it might offer the types of community services Sarah states – “tutoring, recreation, health care, child care, meals, or English-as-a-second-language classes” – it might also be a place to reflect – a place to get away. In a city like New York where the pace of life can run you ragged, a community school might just be the place to go to get absorbed in a book, to write, or to daydream.

But who composes the community? I am opposed to putting up barricades and drawing lines in the sand – dividing space into territories. It is ridiculous in the virtual age – an age where technology and availability of the Internet have furthered the realities of the global village.

The online Encyclopedia of Informal Education provides these three interacting – overlapping – definitions of community:

Place… where people have something in common, and this shared element is understood geographically.

Interest… people are linked together by factors such as religious belief, sexual orientation, occupation or ethnic origin.

Communion… In its weakest form we can approach this as a sense of attachment to a place, group or idea (in other words, whether there is a ‘spirit of community’). In its strongest form ‘communion’ entails a profound meeting or encounter…

Can I propose a “communionity”? A communionity school? A school that would communicate the spirit of a community school on a broader, more inclusive, more open stage?

The communionity school would retain local geographical and cultural characteristics that it would actively transmit to other schools that would do the same. This active sharing would create a more informed holistic system for learning and growing by revealing commonalities and exploring differences among peoples.

“Bloggers are not writers,” Rebecca states in reaction to Jaron’s assertion, “blogging is not writing.” But his words are taken out of context. He’s talking about journalistic writing – Modes of recording observable, quantifiable facts – retraceable truths.

Bloggers can be writers. Bloggers can imagine (and thus create) something “meant to last” or  “legacies that enthuse, provoke, and delight.” But should they? Should bloggers be writers? Is that what they set out to do? Writers? Create legacy? Write for posterity? Their work might break the binds of time and survive the public’s fickle passions, but is that what writers set out to do?

Kafka sold insurance.

I think their wants are more immediate. I think writers write. I think writers write to exorcise, to purge, to unload subconscious weights or spirits – ghosts.

Maybe I’m a writer because I’m desperately trying to clean up my mess. Other people do other things, going to therapy or becoming psychiatrists just to clean up the mess. Well, I couldn’t afford therapy at the time I needed it the most so I started writing. And now I know that the writing helps me a little because why do I write about these things? Why do I choose those characters? Why am I so desperate to tell that story? Because there’s something inside of me that is bothering me, that gives me a lot of pain and that I need to solve. And by exploring it through writing and other people’s lives I might reach a particle of truth. Maybe. If I’m lucky. That’s the whole meaning of writing. So, the dream about the messy house, I know it’s my dream. It’s me. (Isabel Allende)

Writer’s write. It’s the public – “the hive” – that determines the legacies. It’s the snarky little joke shared with a coworker: “I guess it just sounds better coming from you.” We can tell the same story but the hive determines which sounds “truthier” – a settlement on reality simply based solely on who we like to picture reporting it.

It’s the hive that Lanier warns against. It’s the hive as a collective “truth creating” entity – instead of “truth editing and reporting” -that he questions in Digital Maoism. He also asks indirectly why as a skeptical modern society we are so eager to accept the words of our bloggers as truth.

Bloggers are not writers like poets are not journalists. But they all report. They all suppose a reality and then superimpose a truth – make sense of the tragedy – share the comedy. Everyone seeking that “particle of truth.” Everyone coming together with their piece of the puzzle in hand.

Everyone “on the road” going the same way but taking different cars.

I wouldn’t call it an earworm (or ohrwurm) as defined by EarwormsResearch.org – “the earworm phenomenon – getting a catchy, annoying little song, tune, or jingle stuck in one’s head“ – though the song has been stuck in my head.

Then again worms aren’t all bad. Slimy and squirmy, the earthworm feeds the earth – enriching soil in its wake. From daisies to tulips, corn to cotton, the earthworm helps keep soil healthy so we can plant and grow and clothe and feed. The earworm might just as effectively cultivate the mind.

It was pop in its day but a classic today. It’s the song I have the strongest memory of from my father’s record collection. It popped into my head when I wrote about Rosanne Cash’s List. It’s the music my father listened to. It’s the music I listen to. And I think my kids like it too – I’ve played it for them once or twice – now and then.

The Platters’ Twilight Time.

Heavenly shades of night are falling, it’s twilight time
Out of the mist your voice is calling, ’tis twilight time
When purple-colored curtains mark the end of day
I’ll hear you, my dear, at twilight time.

Deepening shadows gather splendor as day is done
Fingers of night will soon surrender the setting sun
I count the moments darling till you’re here with me
Together at last at twilight time.

Wow.

Purple-colored curtains mark the end of day – Deeping shadows gather splendor as day is done – Fingers of night will soon surrender the setting sun…

These are the lines my mind has them sing over and over again. These are the lines I wait for as I hit the back button on my iPod over and over again.

I like the imaginary of Cinemascope Technicolor curtains flowing gently downwards to hide a theater stage that closes a Hollywood heyday musical about zealous lovers.

I like the imaginary of a fist slowly unclenching, palm up, silhouetted fingers peeling back to reveal a bright orange fruit.

Bob Dylan – Jim Morrison – Patti Smith. I don’t question their lyrics as poetry – images from words that exist without instrumental accompaniment. “Twilight Time” reminds me there is a legacy of great writing out there.  I just have to keep my eyes and ears and mind open.

I Googled “Twilight Time,” “Twilight Time Song”,” and ended up at a Wikipedia entry informing me the lyrics were written by Buck Ram (who according to another Wikipedia entry was a songwriter, producer, and arranger most known for his work with The Platters. The music written by a group in the 1940s called The Three Suns.

Briefly: “the Beverly Hills Unified School District (BHUSD) approved a controversial proposal Tuesday to boot out more than 400 out-of-district students.” (Edweek, 1/13/10).

I understand the pressures of budgeting in poor economic times (though I do not accept it). Is it worth displacing more than 400 children for the sake of water polo?

I agree with former Beverly Hills Mayor Tanenbaum and the 2600 residents who signed his petition asking that the non-district students be allowed to stay – “The children are not expendable. They are not financial assets.” Sadly, Beverly Hills Unified and those that support expelling the non-district children were unmoved.

But perhaps even more offense than the district’s decision are the “misinformed” opinions of those supporting the decision to expel the children:

"This is a community trying to take care of its own, and there’s nothing wrong with that," Genevieve Peters said.

Resident Lee Lewis said the argument that forcing students to switch schools would be harmful is baseless because children change schools all the time, for all sorts of reasons.

“Resident Lee Lewis” is only partially correct. Children do change schools for all sorts of reasons. However, it is not a harmless act. There are multiple studies confirming the negative effects of a forced change in schools on children. Red Orbit and Better Homes and Gardens present approachable summaries of the negative impact on children.

Decisions to displace a child from an environment where he or she feels nurtured and engaged are always made under great duress. It is always preferable to keep the child where he or she is when he or she is thriving.

To further illustrate the point, consider the fact that children’s bones heal faster than those of the elderly. However, knowing this doesn’t mean we knowingly break our children’s arms simply because we know their bones will heal. It is preferably the bone remain unbroken.

More insulting than Lee Lewis’ comment is Genevieve Peters’ comment that there is nothing wrong with “a community trying to take care of its own.” Like Lee, Genevieve’s comment demonstrates a dangerously limited and superficial understanding of the situation. While the overall idea of a community “taking care of its own” is not wrong, her understanding of community (as implied by the article) is overly simple (bordering on xenophobic).

The online Encyclopedia of Informal Education provides these three interacting definitions of community (by “interacting” I mean these definitions are not singular but often overlap):

Place… where people have something in common, and this shared element is understood geographically. Another way of naming this is as ‘locality’.

Interest… people share a common characteristic other than place. They are linked together by factors such as religious belief, sexual orientation, occupation or ethnic origin.

Communion… In its weakest form we can approach this as a sense of attachment to a place, group or idea (in other words, whether there is a ‘spirit of community’). In its strongest form ‘communion’ entails a profound meeting or encounter – not just with other people, but also with God and creation.

A school district by definition is not a true “place.” It only considers geography in its most simplified context. It is a set of arbitrarily drawn lines in the sand. However, a school district can become a community by carefully nurturing shared interests and communion.

BHUSD is not “taking care of its own” by ignoring its 2600 residents and expelling 400 plus students. The isolationist views expressed by those who supported its decision to displace the students are direct threats to the spirit of democracy we as educators and parents endeavor to impart to our students/children.

Personally, I am hoping the quotes included in the article were off the cuff and spoken out of frustration. I am hoping that they are not a deeper seated biased belief accidentally revealed in the heat of the argument. 

My father and I do not talk about music though we have argued politics.

Rosanne says this on her blog about The List:

The songs were culled from a List of "100 Essential Country Songs" that my dad made for me when I was 18 years old. It could have easily been called "100 Essential AMERICAN Songs", as the list covered every critical juncture in Roots music, from early Folk songs, protest songs, history songs, Appalachian, Southern blues and Delta bottomland songs, to Gospel and modern Country music. This list is not only a personal legacy, but I have come to realize it is also a cultural legacy, as important to who we are as Americans as the Civil War, or the Rocky Mountains.

Determined by time and place, my “America” is different than Rosanne’s. In 1973 when she was 18 and her father presented her with his list of “essential songs,” I was still in the single digits (born 12 years later but a day earlier). By the time I turned 18, the synthesizer and scratching had become as mainstream as the guitar and the fiddle.

And of course ethnicity plays a role. The word “country” has additional implications for me and my children (though we are all American born). A list of influential (if not essential) American songs for my children would have to include Jacky Cheung, Leslie, Faye Wong, and Andy Lau. These Cantopop singers made it far enough across the language barrier to reach me without Youtube or MP3 file-sharing.

They were influential partially because they represented a “modernizing” of what I perceived as Hong Kong music (which seemed overly preoccupied with ballads and overly “artificial” sounding synthesizers like the sound bites to 80s video games). These singers seemed to have a deeper understanding of the art of the English pop song and successfully bridged the aural sensibilities of both languages (English and Cantonese).

As a Second Generation ABC (American Born Chinese) I have a faulty grasp of Cantonese (my parents’ language). As Third Generation ABCs my children have no understanding at all of my parents’ (their grandparents) language. Everyone speaks English! (which is good in the respect that we have assimilated well but difficult in terms of a cultural legacy.)

I have written about the importance of my children learning Chinese. After reading about The List, I feel it is important that my children also have an understanding of the culture (art, music, and literature) that enriches their heritage as Asian Americans (or more specifically Chinese Americans).

(Digging around Youtube, Leslie Cheung’s Monica brought back memories. I couldn’t resist closing with it… )

I consider Woody Allen the master of the “New York Story.” A New York Story is much more than a story set in the city. It is a story that germinates from the practical realities of approximately 8,363,710 people living, working, and playing on an island 13.4 miles long and 2.3 miles wide (at its widest). Shoulder to shoulder on the subway. Thin walls in studio apartments. The diversity of people and languages walking from one end of a block to the other.

All of this in a New York minute.

Despite the years and the thought (like Joan Acocella’s piece at Smithsonian.com) the perception of New Yorkers being rude still lingers. I have always felt the stigma of being rude was a result of the cultural insensitivity of visitors. Things move fast in the city. You are always five minutes late for something – even when you have nowhere in particular to be! This coupled with the learned familiarity of living in tight spaces could potentially be confused as rudeness by those from slower paced lifestyles that afford greater social pretenses.

The assumption now is that New Yorkers are unhappy, miserable people. Just before the end of 2009 a study by economists Andrew J. Oswald and Stephen Wu was published proclaiming, “Satisfaction with life is lowest in New York.”

Of course we (New Yorkers) with all our familiarity responded appropriately. My favorite so far has been Roy Edroso’s response on the Village Voice blog. Not because I share his opinions (at least not entirely) but because seeing the word “peckerwood” in print makes me giddy.

Adolescent tittering aside, news of the study reminded me of a post I read on Penelope Trunk’s blog. It asked: Do You Belong in NYC? Before considering a move to New York, Penelope asks you to consider three questions:

1. Are you a maximizer (which she defines as someone always looking for something better)?
2. Do you want to be at the top of your field?
3. Do you value an interesting life or a happy one?

New Yorkers are maximizers, desire to be experts in their selected field, and value an interesting life over a happy one. Penelope points out “people who are happy are complacent – they like the status quo. And people who like what they have do not do innovative things to change the world. They like the world just fine how it is.”

I totally agree. New York City – the cultural capitol of art, fashion, finance, film, literature, and music – is no place for the complacent (the stereotypically happy). In order to prevent systematic collapse New York needs dreamers, innovators, the ambitious, the perfectionist, the insatiable.

Also in Penelope’s post is a link to a New York Magazine article featuring the Positive Psychology Center at the University of Pennsylvania. The center was established by Dr. Martin Seligman to “study such things as positive emotions, strengths-based character, and healthy institutions.” Among their tools is the Authentic Happiness Questionnaire.

The author, Jennifer Senior, completed the questionnaire and scored below average. I had a similar score when I completed mine. She uses her results as a springboard to define the concept of “positive psychology” and divine the meaning (and possibly purpose) of happiness.

Among the experts she interviews is Barry Schwartz, author of The Paradox of Choice. She writes:

He [Barry] argues, with terrible persuasiveness, that a superabundance of options is not a blessing but a certain recipe for madness. Nowhere do people have more choices than in New York. “New Yorkers should probably be the most unhappy people on the planet,” says Schwartz, a psychology professor at Swarthmore. “On every block, there’s a lifetime’s worth of opportunities. And if I’m right, either they won’t be able to choose or they will choose, and they’ll be convinced they chose badly.”

What’s important here is the belief that “they’ll be convinced they chose badly.” This ties back to Penelope Trunk’s maximizer questions. New Yorkers are not unhappy people but they are not easily satisfied either. There’s a difference.

The surveys and studies are vague about it. They assume that happiness and satisfaction are in direct relation. I think New Yorkers prove the two are different subjects. Like apples and oranges are fruit, happiness and satisfaction are a part of a larger umbrella classification. Whether you can that classification “life” or “meaning” or “meaning of life” is up to you.