Posted at 07:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Aidan and Gabrielle have been on a "Lilo and Stitch" kick for a few days now. One of the Hawaiian phrases that has caught on is "Ohana". It means family, and as Lilo says, "Family means never letting anyone behind."
Family, and community in general, can be a complex topic. What is a community, a family? It is blood-relatives only? What about those whose blood relatives have committed terrible crimes? Were the family members of Dr. Mengele expected to send Christmas cards? Or, were they allowed to say that despite blood ties, he was no part of their family?
Aidan asked me why, when Mike and I went to Canada, we didn't "do Ohana", that is, "Why did you leave me and Gabrielle behind?" I explained that Aunt Michelle and Uncle Adam, who stayed with them, were family, too, and that even though Mommy and Daddy were in Canada, we kept Aidan and Gabrielle in our hearts. Aidan, of course, was nonplussed: "Well, I really wanted you here with me instead." I explained that sometimes Mommies and Daddies need time together alone, though I'm not sure how impressed Aidan was with that line of defense, either.
Ohana.
In her essay, "In Search of a Good Family," Jane Howard observes that the way we construct our families is changing. For many, career changes and cross-country moves make it nearly impossible to have family units comprised of only blood relatives. Also, for some, blood-based family trees can get so large that one feels closer to some friends than to some family members. Regardless of how we form our families, though, Howard asserts that we need to "devise new ways, or revive old ones, to equip ourselves with kinfolk." To "do Ohana", as Aidan might say.
She claims that good families are "affectionate [and] hospitable" and that while they are "much to all their members" they are "everything to none". That is to say, families are an important part of people's lives, but they do not demand more than the individual can give. And there's the rub. In this modern society, we are torn in so many pieces, frantically racing in so many directions, that it is a shame when family starts to feel like work, like an obligation.
And that is why it is essential to take Henry David Thoreau's advice to "simplify, simplify" and resist the urge to meet every requirement that is presented to us. Will the world stop if we say the word, "No"? Sometimes it may feel that way, but in all honestly, no, it won't. And sometimes not doing is more effective in "doing ohana" than anything at all.
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Today in Gender Studies, my elective for juniors and seniors which examines how we construct gender roles in literature, film, and the media, we transitioned to a new unit about media sexualization of girls. We just finished a toys and game unit in which we talked about toys that reinforce or defy gender roles; we also talked about video games and violence and sexualized dolls like the infamous Bratz. We watched an episode of "Toddlers and Tiaras" last class, and I started today's session by facilitating a discussion about the show.
I was slightly disheartened to hear a student say, in reference to superficial beauty contests, "Well, that's how our society is. That is how it has always been, and there is nothing we can do about it." I say "slightly" disheartened because I believe that it is possible for her to change her defeated opinion as the course goes along, and it is not uncommon for students to enter the course thinking that way and end the course thinking in a radically different way.
My optimism was greatly challenged a few moments later -- we transitioned to the new unit at the this point -- when I showed the class an actual product that was on sale in a junior's department in a Wal*Mart :
A group of girls argued, "It's just underwear. No one sees them, so what's the big deal?" I probed, "What is the big deal about a pair of underwear that implies that sexuality is a currency? Cash, credit, or sex?" I was accused of "looking into it too much" and told again that it is "no big deal" because "the girl wearing them wouldn't even know what it means."
These are times when it is tough to be a teacher. These girls honestly and truly believe that labeling the most private parts of their bodies with demeaning, degrading messages is really "no big deal". Because of the vocal way that they were arguing with me, most other students remained silent during the class period. One boy spoke up: "There is no way I would want my little sister to wear something like that. I want her to grow up to think more of herself than that."
I asked the class who benefits from an unquestioning populace. The answer, of course, is large corporations and mass media. They want us to not question, to blindly accept whatever "new" and "hot" item they throw our way. As for the girls not understanding the message of the underwear -- that's not exactly the issue. The adult who purchased the underwear understand the message and decided it was a decent wardrobe choice for their daughter. That reflects a regard for girls that is both unhealthy and demeaning. We teach our girls, as a society, that their self-worth can be determined by their looks and by their body. But, as the first student already observed, "that's how it's always been", so we shouldn't try to change it, right?
I encouraged them to start "looking into things" more and to start thinking for themselves, to think critically about the messages that are sent to us from the media. It's not easy tackling widely-held beliefs about the media, and today's class was certainly evidence of that.
After the bell rang, I am told, the conversation continued into the hall: "It's just f***ing underwear! What is her problem?" but I was also approached by several students who said that they agreed with me. Another student observed that it is sad that some of his peers think so little of themselves and don't even realize it.
Well...I wonder how tomorrow's section will react to the now infamous "credit card panties".
Posted at 09:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Really, I have to admit that I am sometimes surprised that there are any practicing Catholics out there at all. What on earth was this guy thinking?
"A northeastern Pennsylvania priest has been removed from his duties after church officials say he accidentally displayed inappropriate pictures from his computer before Sunday Mass.
The Diocese of Scranton said the Rev. Edward Lyman was using his computer on Oct. 25 to project an informational DVD about the annual diocesan fundraiser when four photos were displayed. They featured what church officials describe as "minimally attired adult males."
Diocese spokesman William Genello said the photos were not pornographic, did not include minors and were not taken by the priest."
Oh. my. goodness.
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Today is the Feast of All Souls. At the weekend liturgies, we read the names of the members of our parish who have died in this past year, and we lit a candle to symbolize our love for them. It was one of the nicer moments at Mass.
Next to the memorial is the Book of the Dead, a register of the intercessions for those who mourn. Tonight, at the All Souls' Day Mass, Aidan wrote the names of Jim, his beloved godfather, and Judy, the grandmother of his friends, Katie and Sarah.
November is symbolically the perfect time to contemplate the afterlife -- it is the end of the year, the end of the seasons, it but waits for the cold of winter. Though, "for God's faithful people, life is changed, not ended" and so it is with winter. On the surface, all appears to be dead, but deep down, at the invisible level, life is regenerating and recharging, reinventing and restoring in hope for springtime.
On the way home from church, Aidan said that he was getting tired and that he didn't want to sleep alone. I asked him why, and he told me, "I don't like to be in my room without anyone else. It's too quiet and I"m all alone."" I said, "God is always with us," and Gabrielle piped up, "Yeah, God is with us. And peace be with you."
After I chuckled, Aidan responded, "I know God is in my heart, but I really just want my mom."
And while that warms my heart, I thought about how true that really is. We have a beautiful processional cross at Lourdes that was donated in memory of Jim -- it's nice, but I really just want Jim back. The same analogy can be made for anyone. We believe that our loved one is in Heaven, and that does us some good to a certain extent, but our human nature just wants one more hug, one more knowing look, one more laugh.
Yet, we know we cannot have any of those things on this side of life. Perhaps, to look at Aidan's comment in another light, the best we can do is be the arms of God for our fellow creatures -- to be the ones to hug, to kiss, to comfort. As the Beatitudes promise, those who mourn will be comforted. Well, who do you think needs to do the comforting? That's where the living body of the church comes in -- Christians who think beyond themselves to give solace to mourning, encouragement to downtrodden.
And what a fitting memorial to our loved ones, to continue the tradition of love that they have started for us.
Posted at 07:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
Tonight, Aidan and I went to see The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: The Musical at the Community Arts Center in Williamsport. SInce Michael needed to be with the Hughesville band, Gabrielle went to Miss Hopkins's house for some "gurls only" play time. I thought she might be upset that Aidan was going to a show and she wasn't, but apparently time in Miss Hopkins's house, surrounded by cool collectibles and a real, live cat is better than going to a musical.
The musical itself was neat -- the cast consisted of 5 people who played the roles of Peter, Susan, Edmond, Lucy, the Witch, the Wolf, Mr. Tumnus, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, the professor, etc. It involved quick costume changes and some creative staging. It lasted about an hour, and Aidan watched the whole presentation with rapt attention.
At one point, the Witch desperately attempts to conjure snow, despite the presence of Aslan bringing the advent of spring. She calls for a blizzard is met with silence. She exclaims, "I said I want a blizzard!" In the silence that followed, some obnoxious kid called out in a high-pitched voice, "I said I want a blizzard!" The audience laughed out loud at this impertinent child. It was the most laughter I'd heard all night. The gall.
After the show, I saw a handful of students: one asked me if I noticed that some of the actors played more than one character (Um...Aidan noticed, for heaven's sake. Silly girl.) and then they said, "Wasn't it so funny when that kid called out the Witch's lines?" Another piped up, "Yeah, we thought it would be hilarious if it were your kid, Mrs. Connor."
Imagine that. MY child, calling out a line and getting more of a laugh than any of the actors in the show? I mean, really, no child of mine would just call out of turn like that, I mean, honestly.
OK.
It was Aidan. There, I said it.
And of course, my students thought THAT was hilarious. (So did I, not going to lie.)
Posted at 07:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Yesterday, during my 4th period AP English class, a student reached back from his desk to my desk to get a stapler. He accidentally knocked my LHU 5K trophy off the desk and it broke into 3 pieces.
He was immediately apologetic and was surprised by my reaction -- laughter. I thought the whole incident was terribly funny because of the look on his face when he realized what he'd done. He said, "I can't believe you aren't mad!" and I replied, "It's just stuff. I try not to get too attached to material posessions." And that is true. I mean, I have some "things" that I cherish and would be devastated if they were destroyed, but I certainly don't keep those items on my desk at school, nor do I believe that my life and memories could not continue in the sad event of their ruin.
Nevertheless, the student felt terrible, but I joked that I hoped it wasn't an omen regarding my running. The broken wing, one student added, could symbolize a broken ankle. I hoped not. Another student advised me to stay away from the gym that day.
I decided to tempt fate, to try my hand against the omen.
I won.
Posted at 08:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

