Go Education!!

My educational summer continued this weekend. My daughter, Sarah, has been a driving force in this process.  At the beginning of the summer she said, “You should listen to the ‘1619’ podcast, Dad.”  So I did, and she was right.  Each episode made me think, made me want to talk to someone, made me wiser in understanding our real history, made me think I’d been teaching American history in the wrong way.  I listened to it again with Nancy on our drive home from the Adirondacks.

“Dad, do you follow Clint Smith?  I’m not saying that just because he went to Davidson.  He’s really good.  I’m listening to his podcast, ‘Justice in America.’  I think you’d like it.”  This advice came after I’d finished ‘1619’ in June.

I  started listening in July.  I’ve listened to episodes on Cash Bail, on Plea Bargaining, on Mass Incarceration, on District Attorneys.  It opened my eyes to what really happens as opposed to what’s supposed to happen in our judicial system.  It made me mad, but it also gave me hope, as they interviewed some of the people who are working on reforms.

Sarah has a good track record.  She had also been the one who sent me to the John Green podcast, Anthropocene Reviewed, which might be my favorite podcast series of all.  So, last night when she approached me with another recommendation, I was prepared to listen.  I was not prepared for what she said.  “Dad, it’s almost the end of the summer, and you still haven’t watched ‘Cheer.’  This is unacceptable.  

“Sarah, I’ve probably seen every episode of ‘Cheers’ at least twice.  I don’t think I need a refresher.”

“Not ‘Cheers,’ Dad, ‘Cheer.’  There’s a big difference.”

“Oh, it’s really good,” my wife chimed in.   I was being double-teamed.

“Is it gonna be like that ‘Dance Mom’ show or that beauty pageant show?  Cuz I really don’t need to see another show about aggressive, overinvolved parents.”  A show about cheer leading really did not seem up my alley.

“No, it’s a documentary.  It’s really good.  Trust me.”  Well, she had earned my trust with all of the other recommendations, so on Saturday night I reluctantly flopped on the couch with my family, filled not only with dinner but also a large helping of skepticism.  I said I’d watch one episode.

Three-and-a-half hours later, I headed off to bed, my mind on fire with ideas and questions. How could I adapt Coach Aldama’s demanding, tough love approach in fifth grade?  Should I get some cowboy boots? Push ups any time someone forgot to use the hand sanitizer! At the same time, I have to say I was a bit miffed at Monica for the way she manipulated Jerry just to give La’Darius that wake-up call.  Granted, Jerry really wasn’t as versatile as La’Darius, with his tumbling and his stunt skills, but I mean, who is, right?    Still, Jerry, of all the kids deserved better, right? He is the quintessential selfless hardworking teammate.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it to next Saturday to find out if Sherbs’s injury is going to keep her from going to Daytona.  That was crazy how she’d just been talking about falling in the pyramid, how she just closed her eyes and trusted that someone would catch her. Then, BAM, she crashes to the floor. If she can’t make it, will Morgan be up to the challenge?  Monica clearly has a soft spot for her. She has that compelling backstory, but I worry that she gets a little too inside her head sometimes, and she’s still having a lot of trouble pointing her toes. I suppose Gabi could take that spot. She is Gabi Butler, after all. Say no more, right? But what about Allie or Lexi?

I know you’ve probably already watched, but please don’t tell me. It’s part of my education, and I don’t want anyone to spoil it.

New House on the Prairie

When my daughter Emma was in second grade, she fell in love with the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  She was still rereading them in 7th grade. I know that they have become a controversial series in recent years, and I completely agree that the content of those books displays prejudices and stereotypes that diminish the culture, the history, and the rights of Native Americans. There are also scenes that display prejudices against other people of color.  I wouldn’t assign those books in class now or even recommend them to a student without significant discussion of those biases.  

Still, those books inhabit a soft spot in my heart because I know how much joy they brought to my daughter.  She didn’t just read them.  Like many readers of that series, she lived those books.  She tried out recipes (maple snow candy) , she recited lines, she spoke like the characters (“By the great horned spoon, Sarah!” she once bellowed at her little sister), she referred to characters as though they were her real-life friends.  We sometimes felt that Emma was a visitor from another era. She reread those books till the pages fell out.  I once asked her about a scene I vaguely remembered from Farmer Boy.  She not only recounted the exact details of the scene, she also told me on what page I would find it.

I’m not saying this as a defense of some of the books’ shortcomings.  I’m just saying that Laura Ingalls Wilder fueled my daughter’s imagination, helped my daughter learn to read and write,  and gave her comfort and friendship at times when she really needed it.  

I was reminded of this series because I just finished reading Prairie Lotus, by Linda Sue Park.  I loved this book, and at the same time, it made me a little sad.  Emma would have loved it too.  She would have read it many times, and I think she would have loved the main character, Hannah, even more than she loved Laura and Pa and Mary and Almanzo. Hannah is pushed to the margins of the frontier society, but she pushes back.

Though it is set in the 1880s in the Dakota Territory, just like the Little House books, Prairie Lotus gives us a very different perspective of that time on the frontier.  Hannah is a “half and half” as her mother would say.  Her father is white and her late mother was Chinese.  After her mother dies, Hannah and her father travel east from Los Angeles to start a new life, escaping the riots and the bad memories of Los Angeles (I did not know about those Los Angeles riots). 

In her author’s note, Linda Sue Park describes growing up in the Midwest, reading the Little House books and imagining herself in those times.  She admits, though, that as a Korean-American, it took some mental gymnastics to imagine herself into those scenes. It turns out she is very good at mental gymnastics. In Lotus Prairie, the allusions and the similarities are part of an intentional homage to the series Park loved as a child. Reading this book, you half expect Laura and Pa to step into the front room of Edmunds Dress Shop.  You wonder, though, how those characters would have treated Hannah. 

The beauty of this story is that it confronts the racist systems and prevailing views that the Little House books sidestepped or even endorsed.  Hannah questions the treatment of Native Americans, and she fights back against the hate and abuse that white settlers directed toward her and other people of color.  It’s a modern book, but Hannah’s actions and observations don’t feel out of place or out of time.  

This book might not have been well-received by Laura Ingalls Wilder’s readers in the 1930s, but who knows, maybe if Laura had met Hannah in a classroom in De Smet, the Wilder stories would have taken a different turn.  

I know this:  I’ll be rereading Prairie Lotus many times and trying all the mental gymnastics I can muster to imagine my Emma reading next to me.