Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Pre-K Students' Reactions to the Earthquake in Haiti
My sixth Associated Content assignment was a call for a content about our local community's response to the earthquake in Haiti.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Loving Haiti, Part 1
The seventh article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger.
===================
At 2:13pm on Tuesday January 12th, I received an email from the office of Habitat Pour L’Humanité Haiti requesting my photo and profile information. I was anticipating the follow-up email that would include information about the family with whom I would be staying during my 2010 Spring Break, and the future homeowners of the house I would be helping to build. Instead, a few hours later, I received a text message from my mom alerting me to the terrible news, and I would not hear from the Habitat Haiti office again for what seemed like an eternity. As I sobbed alone in my school office, staring at the horrible truth splattered across the bright yellow “Breaking News” CNN.com banner, I felt the collective heart of the world break for the people of Haiti.
There has been such an immediate outpouring of support for a country historically ignored, overlooked, disrespected, manipulated, occupied, and abused by the big powers of the world. For a moment, we are all looking at one of the most difficult sights: the results of a natural disaster made infinitely worse by years of human-imposed poverty. What is needed now was urgently needed before. Medicine, food, water, shelter. Many basic needs were already unmet in Haiti. We just did not have it thrust in our faces daily. We get caught up in our complicated lives and seemingly insurmountable problems while we are living and working through them. It is hard to respond in a meaningful way to the poverty and injustices in our world when a situation is this big. We feel a desire to give to Haiti in some form right now but there are not many practical ways to do this. Flights into the country are shut off to the general public. Small item donations are mostly declined. Most of us do not have medical or search and rescue expertise. Still, there remains a borderline panicky impulse, for many of us, to DO something!
Desperately, I sent emails to the Habitat for Humanity office in Haiti, previously based in Port-au-Prince, begging to know if their team was okay and maintaining my commitment to come in April. No response. I emailed Habitat International for information. Thankfully, I was told within hours that they had received reports from the Haiti office and, as far as they knew, everyone was alive. I still was restless, unsure of whether my budding friendships would be cut short before getting the chance to bloom. I needed to hear from them directly. Finally, on Thursday January 21st, I received a brief email response– “Nous sommes tous en vie et nous commencons a nous organiser pour recommencer travailler.” [We are all alive and we are starting to organize ourselves to resume working.]
Such self-reliance and drive to survive will be what it takes to get this undefeatable nation back on its feet. The first independent nation in Latin America, first black republic, and first nation to gain independence as the result of overthrowing the shackles of slavery, is now being held up for all to see. So what is our role in this? Will we avert our eyes when questions arise about our respective countries’ past policies and actions towards Haiti? What can the world say about the ousting of the Haitian nation’s first democratically-elected president, twice? What explanation can be given for the fact that part of why Haiti has always been deep in debt is because they were forced to pay reparations to their previous French slave owners for loss of “property” (i.e. losing the benefit of owning people)?
We cannot change history and the average person cannot change government policy. How can civilians partner legitimately with Haiti in supporting themselves in the long-term? Will we remember the Haitian people when the images and sound bytes slow to a trickle and fade away? We must make connections beyond the sending of checks. There has to be a face or a story that we can hold on to, something that makes us bond with our Haitian brothers and sisters, even if we cannot be with them at this time.
I felt as if I had been reunited with my own relatives when I received the We’re-All-Alive email. Writing back (with the aid of an online translator), I expressed my wishes to be with them and my growing affection: “Je voudrais pouvoir être avec vous maintenant! Je vous aime déjà parce que j'ai commis mon coeur a vous, même avant la catastrophe.” [I wish I could be with you right now. I love you already because I had committed my heart to you, even before the catastrophe.] How is it that we humans are capable of loving strangers? Their beautiful reply back: “Nous vous aimons aussi.” [We love you too.]
===================
At 2:13pm on Tuesday January 12th, I received an email from the office of Habitat Pour L’Humanité Haiti requesting my photo and profile information. I was anticipating the follow-up email that would include information about the family with whom I would be staying during my 2010 Spring Break, and the future homeowners of the house I would be helping to build. Instead, a few hours later, I received a text message from my mom alerting me to the terrible news, and I would not hear from the Habitat Haiti office again for what seemed like an eternity. As I sobbed alone in my school office, staring at the horrible truth splattered across the bright yellow “Breaking News” CNN.com banner, I felt the collective heart of the world break for the people of Haiti.
There has been such an immediate outpouring of support for a country historically ignored, overlooked, disrespected, manipulated, occupied, and abused by the big powers of the world. For a moment, we are all looking at one of the most difficult sights: the results of a natural disaster made infinitely worse by years of human-imposed poverty. What is needed now was urgently needed before. Medicine, food, water, shelter. Many basic needs were already unmet in Haiti. We just did not have it thrust in our faces daily. We get caught up in our complicated lives and seemingly insurmountable problems while we are living and working through them. It is hard to respond in a meaningful way to the poverty and injustices in our world when a situation is this big. We feel a desire to give to Haiti in some form right now but there are not many practical ways to do this. Flights into the country are shut off to the general public. Small item donations are mostly declined. Most of us do not have medical or search and rescue expertise. Still, there remains a borderline panicky impulse, for many of us, to DO something!
Desperately, I sent emails to the Habitat for Humanity office in Haiti, previously based in Port-au-Prince, begging to know if their team was okay and maintaining my commitment to come in April. No response. I emailed Habitat International for information. Thankfully, I was told within hours that they had received reports from the Haiti office and, as far as they knew, everyone was alive. I still was restless, unsure of whether my budding friendships would be cut short before getting the chance to bloom. I needed to hear from them directly. Finally, on Thursday January 21st, I received a brief email response– “Nous sommes tous en vie et nous commencons a nous organiser pour recommencer travailler.” [We are all alive and we are starting to organize ourselves to resume working.]
Such self-reliance and drive to survive will be what it takes to get this undefeatable nation back on its feet. The first independent nation in Latin America, first black republic, and first nation to gain independence as the result of overthrowing the shackles of slavery, is now being held up for all to see. So what is our role in this? Will we avert our eyes when questions arise about our respective countries’ past policies and actions towards Haiti? What can the world say about the ousting of the Haitian nation’s first democratically-elected president, twice? What explanation can be given for the fact that part of why Haiti has always been deep in debt is because they were forced to pay reparations to their previous French slave owners for loss of “property” (i.e. losing the benefit of owning people)?
We cannot change history and the average person cannot change government policy. How can civilians partner legitimately with Haiti in supporting themselves in the long-term? Will we remember the Haitian people when the images and sound bytes slow to a trickle and fade away? We must make connections beyond the sending of checks. There has to be a face or a story that we can hold on to, something that makes us bond with our Haitian brothers and sisters, even if we cannot be with them at this time.
I felt as if I had been reunited with my own relatives when I received the We’re-All-Alive email. Writing back (with the aid of an online translator), I expressed my wishes to be with them and my growing affection: “Je voudrais pouvoir être avec vous maintenant! Je vous aime déjà parce que j'ai commis mon coeur a vous, même avant la catastrophe.” [I wish I could be with you right now. I love you already because I had committed my heart to you, even before the catastrophe.] How is it that we humans are capable of loving strangers? Their beautiful reply back: “Nous vous aimons aussi.” [We love you too.]
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Dilemma of Gift-Giving
The sixth article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger.
===================
Oh yes, it is that time of year. Holiday promotions and decorations started going up in stores in late October this year, next to the scary costume displays. For some people, it is time to go into temporary debt in order to buy more than enough food and presents. For others, it is time to feel guilty about not being able to buy enough. For yet others, it is time to procrastinate and wait until the last minute to run and just buy something for people to whom they feel obligated. For others who have this time of year well-organized completed their shopping months ago and it is simply time to turn on festive music, decorate the house, and enjoy a cup of cocoa as they casually sit down to wrap the perfect gifts. I have been in all of the categories except the latter!
In the past, I have gone completely overboard during this time of year. At 19, I spent $800 on gifts at a retail clothing store, and that was after my 30% employee discount. One year, I did a holiday gift “treasure hunt” for my boyfriend with hint-notes around his apartment, leading him to presents. Some Decembers, the presents pile under our family tree was overflowing, taking hours to open them all. At some point, I began to reflect on my gift-giving and receiving priorities. I got a lot of enjoyment out of giving gifts; I just could not sustain the exponential pattern developing. I realized many of the gifts I had bought and received were sitting forgotten on a shelf or in a closet. Pondering the balance between thoughtfulness and wrapping stuff in pretty paper, I started to feel the way I had been doing things was too shallow and wasteful. I had to consider other ways of gift-giving.
My attempts have generally failed. The first year I tried to do homemade gifts was a huge flop. I made what I thought was beautiful stationary for one person; a few years later, they re-gifted it to me. That same year, I tried to make a real leather wallet for my brother that ended up looking like a camp craft project gone wrong. The following year, I made and delivered cookies but I am so inept in the kitchen that it took far more time than I had available; I could spend only a few minutes at each house. One year I drew pictures but inevitably felt rushed to complete the artwork as the season arrived. I did not even get to frame them. Last year, I gave homemade “certificates” to family members and a few close friends, each redeemable for one course at a community college of their choice. Everyone said they thought it was a great idea and named classes they would like to take. A year later, not a single person has cashed in their certificate.
When I began grappling with my own gift-giving values, I asked others to consider not giving me gifts or at least giving me less, not just during the holidays but for my birthday as well. I am an unintentional hoarder and tend to be a magnet for stuff, no matter how many boxes I send to the thrift shop. For some people, the notion of not giving gifts is neither possible nor desirable. My family and friends have made a noticeable effort with my requests. One of my dearest friends, Cana, has always been a gifted giver. She is the person that sends a follow-up note after casual get-togethers. One year, she painted a beautiful acrylic painting of a tarantula with a Gerber daisy, two of my favorite things. She collected coupons to a home supply store when I bought a house and arranged a trip to a Serpentarium (it is exactly what it sounds like) for my birthday this year. Not everyone can be Cana, though… especially me. I have to be purposefully thoughtful and time management or planning ahead are just not my fortes.
I do not know what the right response is to what the holidays have become; that answer will be different for every person. I think most people can agree that emphasis on the sentiment of the season is preferable to the feeling of obligation to spend outrageous amounts of money on temporal things. There is a viral video going around by Advent Conspiracy, challenging people to think about this time of year in a different way. The video claims that "Americans spend $450 billion on Christmas EVERY YEAR... lack of clean water kills more people every day than anything else and… the estimated cost to make clean water available to everyone is $10 billion." Just another perspective, as I consider yet again what in the world I am going to give this year…
What does gift-giving mean to you? What has been your experience with alternative gift-giving? Join the conversation on the Badger forums.
===================
Oh yes, it is that time of year. Holiday promotions and decorations started going up in stores in late October this year, next to the scary costume displays. For some people, it is time to go into temporary debt in order to buy more than enough food and presents. For others, it is time to feel guilty about not being able to buy enough. For yet others, it is time to procrastinate and wait until the last minute to run and just buy something for people to whom they feel obligated. For others who have this time of year well-organized completed their shopping months ago and it is simply time to turn on festive music, decorate the house, and enjoy a cup of cocoa as they casually sit down to wrap the perfect gifts. I have been in all of the categories except the latter!
In the past, I have gone completely overboard during this time of year. At 19, I spent $800 on gifts at a retail clothing store, and that was after my 30% employee discount. One year, I did a holiday gift “treasure hunt” for my boyfriend with hint-notes around his apartment, leading him to presents. Some Decembers, the presents pile under our family tree was overflowing, taking hours to open them all. At some point, I began to reflect on my gift-giving and receiving priorities. I got a lot of enjoyment out of giving gifts; I just could not sustain the exponential pattern developing. I realized many of the gifts I had bought and received were sitting forgotten on a shelf or in a closet. Pondering the balance between thoughtfulness and wrapping stuff in pretty paper, I started to feel the way I had been doing things was too shallow and wasteful. I had to consider other ways of gift-giving.
My attempts have generally failed. The first year I tried to do homemade gifts was a huge flop. I made what I thought was beautiful stationary for one person; a few years later, they re-gifted it to me. That same year, I tried to make a real leather wallet for my brother that ended up looking like a camp craft project gone wrong. The following year, I made and delivered cookies but I am so inept in the kitchen that it took far more time than I had available; I could spend only a few minutes at each house. One year I drew pictures but inevitably felt rushed to complete the artwork as the season arrived. I did not even get to frame them. Last year, I gave homemade “certificates” to family members and a few close friends, each redeemable for one course at a community college of their choice. Everyone said they thought it was a great idea and named classes they would like to take. A year later, not a single person has cashed in their certificate.
When I began grappling with my own gift-giving values, I asked others to consider not giving me gifts or at least giving me less, not just during the holidays but for my birthday as well. I am an unintentional hoarder and tend to be a magnet for stuff, no matter how many boxes I send to the thrift shop. For some people, the notion of not giving gifts is neither possible nor desirable. My family and friends have made a noticeable effort with my requests. One of my dearest friends, Cana, has always been a gifted giver. She is the person that sends a follow-up note after casual get-togethers. One year, she painted a beautiful acrylic painting of a tarantula with a Gerber daisy, two of my favorite things. She collected coupons to a home supply store when I bought a house and arranged a trip to a Serpentarium (it is exactly what it sounds like) for my birthday this year. Not everyone can be Cana, though… especially me. I have to be purposefully thoughtful and time management or planning ahead are just not my fortes.
I do not know what the right response is to what the holidays have become; that answer will be different for every person. I think most people can agree that emphasis on the sentiment of the season is preferable to the feeling of obligation to spend outrageous amounts of money on temporal things. There is a viral video going around by Advent Conspiracy, challenging people to think about this time of year in a different way. The video claims that "Americans spend $450 billion on Christmas EVERY YEAR... lack of clean water kills more people every day than anything else and… the estimated cost to make clean water available to everyone is $10 billion." Just another perspective, as I consider yet again what in the world I am going to give this year…
What does gift-giving mean to you? What has been your experience with alternative gift-giving? Join the conversation on the Badger forums.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Why I Skipped My High School Reunion
The fifth article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger.
===================
I am from a small town in North Carolina and live ten minutes away from the house in which I grew up. A week ago, my high school had a 10-year reunion for the Class of 1999. I liked much of high school and have many good memories, but… I didn’t go. It was not a decision I made overnight. Up until that evening, I was unsure of whether I wanted to go and unable to pin down the source of my apprehensions.
Maybe it was because Facebook sufficiently satiates my curiosity about most of my former classmates. I admit I love reading about amazing things people are doing with their lives, even those I didn’t know well. However, the prospect of multiple uncomfortable chitchats about how-life-is with acquaintances who wrote "Have a nice summer!" or "You and _____ were such a cute couple! Sorry it didn't work out!" in my yearbook just isn't that appealing. I have not kept in close touch with many classmates but a reunion is a less than ideal place to catch up in a meaningful way.
Maybe I didn't want to pretend to enjoy a laugh at my expense while people I have known since elementary school jokingly reminisce about how nerdy, sheltered, weird, or goody-two-shoes I was. Maybe I would rather not have to give a polite we're-both-grown-ups-now smile to the former soccer teammate who hooked up with my boyfriend at a party I wasn't allowed to attend. Maybe I didn't want to explain why my life seems five years behind where it "should" be, according to my hometown's standards. Maybe I didn't want to be asked for the eight hundred and fifty-sixth time why my boyfriend Shaun and I have not yet chosen to get married.
Maybe it was because I did not want to walk in the door and feel all over again what it's like not to belong. I dread situations in which I have to wander around in search of a place to stand or sit. I never did fit in with any one group—and I still don't—but growing up, I had always felt good about being friendly with everyone and not feeling limited to a particular “type” of friend. At social gatherings, though, I see the value in belonging, in knowing with certainty that some people would be genuinely happy to see me. Some things never change, though. I am still the odd one out at work. At staff meetings, I stand at the back of the room avoiding awkward seat-hunting. Looking back, I know I did the same thing in high school. I often went to the computer lab for lunch, averting rejection and food.
Maybe it’s because I have an immature streak and what people think of me, at times, paralyzes me with insecurity. I realize it's tradition but whoever picked the day after Thanksgiving (U.S.) for a get-together with people you haven't seen since you were teenagers must have been playing a cruel joke. Mercifully, I did not gain weight after the feast this year, thanks to a walk around the neighborhood and a 12 hour nap. That's no small miracle considering my mom's corn casserole recipe calls for an entire stick of butter! Nevertheless, at a size 6, I am still literally 50 pounds heavier than I was in 1999.
I can imagine the "Wow, she’s let herself go" whispers from the same people who used to say, "Ohmigod! You're so skinny, I hate you!" What they did not know was that my loud, bubbly, skinny teenage self was quietly succumbing to anorexia, anxiety and depression. Hospitalized twice my senior year, I barely survived, much less graduated with the Class of '99. College was then a roller coaster of emotion and crisis as I battled my self-destructiveness and my tendency towards eating disorders threw me literally 100 pounds in the other direction on the scale. It's all too long of a story to explain during small talk at a noisy pub, and a partial telling of what happened leaves me sounding like the hostess of a Pity Party for one. I know this from experience so I'll spare you for now and save the details for my memoirs.
I’ll just divulge the happy ending. After many years of hard work on my part, with loving support from my family and Shaun, I am at a secure, happy and stable place in my life. I'm not living a glamorous, adventurous or traditional life but I chose this life I am living. Maybe the wounds are still too fresh. Whatever the reason, I stayed home, ate dinner with Shaun, read a book, and went to bed on time. Five or ten years from now, I might reconsider the reunion idea. Maybe.
===================
I am from a small town in North Carolina and live ten minutes away from the house in which I grew up. A week ago, my high school had a 10-year reunion for the Class of 1999. I liked much of high school and have many good memories, but… I didn’t go. It was not a decision I made overnight. Up until that evening, I was unsure of whether I wanted to go and unable to pin down the source of my apprehensions.
Maybe it was because Facebook sufficiently satiates my curiosity about most of my former classmates. I admit I love reading about amazing things people are doing with their lives, even those I didn’t know well. However, the prospect of multiple uncomfortable chitchats about how-life-is with acquaintances who wrote "Have a nice summer!" or "You and _____ were such a cute couple! Sorry it didn't work out!" in my yearbook just isn't that appealing. I have not kept in close touch with many classmates but a reunion is a less than ideal place to catch up in a meaningful way.
Maybe I didn't want to pretend to enjoy a laugh at my expense while people I have known since elementary school jokingly reminisce about how nerdy, sheltered, weird, or goody-two-shoes I was. Maybe I would rather not have to give a polite we're-both-grown-ups-now smile to the former soccer teammate who hooked up with my boyfriend at a party I wasn't allowed to attend. Maybe I didn't want to explain why my life seems five years behind where it "should" be, according to my hometown's standards. Maybe I didn't want to be asked for the eight hundred and fifty-sixth time why my boyfriend Shaun and I have not yet chosen to get married.
Maybe it was because I did not want to walk in the door and feel all over again what it's like not to belong. I dread situations in which I have to wander around in search of a place to stand or sit. I never did fit in with any one group—and I still don't—but growing up, I had always felt good about being friendly with everyone and not feeling limited to a particular “type” of friend. At social gatherings, though, I see the value in belonging, in knowing with certainty that some people would be genuinely happy to see me. Some things never change, though. I am still the odd one out at work. At staff meetings, I stand at the back of the room avoiding awkward seat-hunting. Looking back, I know I did the same thing in high school. I often went to the computer lab for lunch, averting rejection and food.
Maybe it’s because I have an immature streak and what people think of me, at times, paralyzes me with insecurity. I realize it's tradition but whoever picked the day after Thanksgiving (U.S.) for a get-together with people you haven't seen since you were teenagers must have been playing a cruel joke. Mercifully, I did not gain weight after the feast this year, thanks to a walk around the neighborhood and a 12 hour nap. That's no small miracle considering my mom's corn casserole recipe calls for an entire stick of butter! Nevertheless, at a size 6, I am still literally 50 pounds heavier than I was in 1999.
I can imagine the "Wow, she’s let herself go" whispers from the same people who used to say, "Ohmigod! You're so skinny, I hate you!" What they did not know was that my loud, bubbly, skinny teenage self was quietly succumbing to anorexia, anxiety and depression. Hospitalized twice my senior year, I barely survived, much less graduated with the Class of '99. College was then a roller coaster of emotion and crisis as I battled my self-destructiveness and my tendency towards eating disorders threw me literally 100 pounds in the other direction on the scale. It's all too long of a story to explain during small talk at a noisy pub, and a partial telling of what happened leaves me sounding like the hostess of a Pity Party for one. I know this from experience so I'll spare you for now and save the details for my memoirs.
I’ll just divulge the happy ending. After many years of hard work on my part, with loving support from my family and Shaun, I am at a secure, happy and stable place in my life. I'm not living a glamorous, adventurous or traditional life but I chose this life I am living. Maybe the wounds are still too fresh. Whatever the reason, I stayed home, ate dinner with Shaun, read a book, and went to bed on time. Five or ten years from now, I might reconsider the reunion idea. Maybe.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
My Version of Green
The fourth article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger.
What is your version of green living? What are some changes you have incorporated into your own life? What are some not-so-green habits you are unwilling to abandon? Join the conversation on The Badger forums: http://www.thebadger.ca/forum
What is your version of green living? What are some changes you have incorporated into your own life? What are some not-so-green habits you are unwilling to abandon? Join the conversation on The Badger forums: http://www.thebadger.ca/forum
The Turkey's Day: A Haiku
My fifth Associated Content assignment was a call for a turkey haiku.
What kind of Thanksgiving does a turkey hope for? My response, in haiku.
What kind of Thanksgiving does a turkey hope for? My response, in haiku.
Easy, Inexpensive Ways to Build Early Literacy at Home
My fourth assignment for Associated Content, a call for fresh, interesting content.
Kenzie-Pop
The third article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger. This one made it on the website that week.
GI Joe’s Milk Mustache: Advertising to Public School Students
The second article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in The Badger.
===================
Hannah Montana, Spiderman, The Hulk, High School Musical, Disney Princesses, and Mickey Mouse flash before my eyes. Michael Jordan and Carrie Underwood flash toothy white smiles at me. I am not watching a commercial break from a children’s TV program. I am walking through the halls of a public elementary school.
In the cafeteria, students pass by the Got Milk? ad campaign posters and line up to choose a carton of milk featuring a picture of GI Joe in army camouflage urging kids to drink the milk they just selected. Students then pick up their hot lunches and stop by the cash register to purchase a bag of Scooby Doo cookies or a Cocoa Puff cereal bar. Other students head straight to their seats and open up their Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Bratz lunch boxes, pulling out containers of Chef Boyardee, Lunchables, Hostess cakes and Fruit Roll-ups.
Library posters display book-wielding celebrities exploiting their star power to urge students to read. The PTA is running a new fundraiser in which students sell coupon books for local businesses. The Kindergarten classes are participating in Pizza Hut’s Book-It program to earn free pizza coupons by reading X number of books. On a rainy day, teachers might show a Disney or Pixar movie, or give the students extra time on their PC or Mac computers, depending on which company donated to the school. Children color with Crayola crayons and glue with Elmer’s glue. If a student gets a cut, it is covered with a Band-Aid bandage and runny noses are wiped with Kleenex tissues.
There exists a hidden curriculum for students. They are learning to be consumers. Messages are ubiquitous throughout the school building, even on the students themselves. Backpacks, shoes, t-shirts, lunch boxes, notebooks, books, food packaging and even every day classroom products are all sources for advertising to students. Young, unknowing children become walking advertisements for cartoons, universities, teams, companies and products. Public schools for upper grades may not have lunch boxes and folders plastered with cartoons, but advertising wriggles its way into their buildings as well through snack machines, sponsored clubs, restaurants (yes, some schools cafeterias include actual McDonald’s, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, etc.), local business yearbook ads, and military and college recruiters.
While it is noble for celebrities to use their influence to encourage health and reading, any face-time opportunity is at least partially self-serving for a person whose product is her or himself. If a business or university can get their logo on a child’s body, think of all the instant, low-cost viewing of their ad resulting from a walk down the school hallway. As generous as it may be for companies to donate computers to schools, such a gift results in thousands of children who are more comfortable with a particular system and will probably be more likely to purchase that system in the future. Classroom choices of websites, software and web browsers affect children’s outside technology use. A student who uses Internet Explorer at school will probably overlook the Mozilla Firefox icon at the public library, simply based on exposure and familiarity. Some classrooms use current popular tech toys like iTouch and Nintendo Wii as part of the curriculum. I wonder what they will be requesting for birthday gifts…
Businesses are alive and well in government-run schools, and then as soon as students walk back out of the school doors, the advertising bombardment continues on the roads, in the community, and at home. Of course, all children need to use school supplies and computers, wear clothes and eat food. It is not rational or reasonable to dictate to people what businesses they should patronize, or even advertise. Commercialism is a part of our lives now, whether we like it or not and whether we acknowledge it or not.
Young children need help with deciphering the incoming information. They are targets of billions of dollars worth of advertising campaigns but malleable youthful minds are typically not mature enough to make educated decisions about preference. A healthy awareness of ads to which young people are exposed daily might lead to adults being more thoughtful about the role of businesses in schools. Advertising is definitely here to stay, but is it too much to ask that my 4-year old Pre-Kindergarten students not be subjected to the promotion of a violent PG-13 movie on their celebrity-endorsed, government-dispersed milk?
===================
Hannah Montana, Spiderman, The Hulk, High School Musical, Disney Princesses, and Mickey Mouse flash before my eyes. Michael Jordan and Carrie Underwood flash toothy white smiles at me. I am not watching a commercial break from a children’s TV program. I am walking through the halls of a public elementary school.
In the cafeteria, students pass by the Got Milk? ad campaign posters and line up to choose a carton of milk featuring a picture of GI Joe in army camouflage urging kids to drink the milk they just selected. Students then pick up their hot lunches and stop by the cash register to purchase a bag of Scooby Doo cookies or a Cocoa Puff cereal bar. Other students head straight to their seats and open up their Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Bratz lunch boxes, pulling out containers of Chef Boyardee, Lunchables, Hostess cakes and Fruit Roll-ups.
Library posters display book-wielding celebrities exploiting their star power to urge students to read. The PTA is running a new fundraiser in which students sell coupon books for local businesses. The Kindergarten classes are participating in Pizza Hut’s Book-It program to earn free pizza coupons by reading X number of books. On a rainy day, teachers might show a Disney or Pixar movie, or give the students extra time on their PC or Mac computers, depending on which company donated to the school. Children color with Crayola crayons and glue with Elmer’s glue. If a student gets a cut, it is covered with a Band-Aid bandage and runny noses are wiped with Kleenex tissues.
There exists a hidden curriculum for students. They are learning to be consumers. Messages are ubiquitous throughout the school building, even on the students themselves. Backpacks, shoes, t-shirts, lunch boxes, notebooks, books, food packaging and even every day classroom products are all sources for advertising to students. Young, unknowing children become walking advertisements for cartoons, universities, teams, companies and products. Public schools for upper grades may not have lunch boxes and folders plastered with cartoons, but advertising wriggles its way into their buildings as well through snack machines, sponsored clubs, restaurants (yes, some schools cafeterias include actual McDonald’s, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, etc.), local business yearbook ads, and military and college recruiters.
While it is noble for celebrities to use their influence to encourage health and reading, any face-time opportunity is at least partially self-serving for a person whose product is her or himself. If a business or university can get their logo on a child’s body, think of all the instant, low-cost viewing of their ad resulting from a walk down the school hallway. As generous as it may be for companies to donate computers to schools, such a gift results in thousands of children who are more comfortable with a particular system and will probably be more likely to purchase that system in the future. Classroom choices of websites, software and web browsers affect children’s outside technology use. A student who uses Internet Explorer at school will probably overlook the Mozilla Firefox icon at the public library, simply based on exposure and familiarity. Some classrooms use current popular tech toys like iTouch and Nintendo Wii as part of the curriculum. I wonder what they will be requesting for birthday gifts…
Businesses are alive and well in government-run schools, and then as soon as students walk back out of the school doors, the advertising bombardment continues on the roads, in the community, and at home. Of course, all children need to use school supplies and computers, wear clothes and eat food. It is not rational or reasonable to dictate to people what businesses they should patronize, or even advertise. Commercialism is a part of our lives now, whether we like it or not and whether we acknowledge it or not.
Young children need help with deciphering the incoming information. They are targets of billions of dollars worth of advertising campaigns but malleable youthful minds are typically not mature enough to make educated decisions about preference. A healthy awareness of ads to which young people are exposed daily might lead to adults being more thoughtful about the role of businesses in schools. Advertising is definitely here to stay, but is it too much to ask that my 4-year old Pre-Kindergarten students not be subjected to the promotion of a violent PG-13 movie on their celebrity-endorsed, government-dispersed milk?
Getting Away From Cancun
My third Associated Content assignment, a call for non-conventional travel ideas based on personal experience.
Educating to Liberate or Dominate
A reflection on a quote by Paulo Freire about the power of education to liberate or dominate people, considering the role of teachers as a facilitators of learning, and looking at the importance of the classroom environment.
Published on Associated Content.
Published on Associated Content.
10 Things You Don't Know About Tarantula Owners
My second assignment for Associated Content, a call for "Best Content" on any topic of interest to me.
Being PC is Not "Lame"
The first article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in a new Canadian publication called The Badger.
===================
I remember my mother explaining to me as a teenager to avoid terms like "slave driver" and "Indian giver." Years later, I shared with her that the phrase "I got gypped" is derogatory, "gyp" being short for "gypsy" – she had taught me well! Saying "That’s gay" flowed easily out of my mouth for years before I had close gay friends and recognized that "gay" is not synonymous with "stupid" or "bad." In the past, I was unfazed to hear someone describing a humiliating situation say, "I wanted to die/ kill myself / slit my wrists/ [insert self-harming term]." Today I flinch at hearing those expressions, now conscious of the grim reality of actual self-harm and suicide.
On my high school soccer team, if a player was injured or performed badly in a game, she was lovingly teased and called a "gimp" "spaz" "short bus" or "sped" (short for Special Education) – it was simply a joke. A few years later I began working with young people with disabilities, including a young woman with Cerebral Palsy. Difficulties with muscle spasticity affect her daily life – she wakes up some mornings with muscle tightness that makes it difficult to stand or walk. I recall the day her mother mentioned that the word "spaz" is short for spasticity. Suddenly, keeping the word "spaz" in my personal lexicon was a low priority. I also recall the day that this young woman—about 13 years old at the time—came home from school and shared with me, through tears, that some kids had made fun of her, called her a "retard." Her pain caused by a single word said in a malicious tone was real and valid; clearly the students’ intention in the moment had been to verbally abuse and belittle her, but it is unlikely they gave it a second thought when they went home.
Getting carried away and becoming the Word-Police (not "Word-Nazi", the use of which trivializes a very real horror) is easy, but alienating and leading people away from self-reflection to conclude that the fault belongs to the offended is not constructive. Pointing out specific distasteful use of language is delicate, and usually not appropriate. When a word has been trained out of my vocabulary, I am able to tell so if I hear someone use the word and it feels like an online pop-up message – I can close that little window, but my attention has been drawn away from the original thought process. My mind departs from the conversation: "Should I mention that the word 'schizo' is rude?" Rarely do I speak up, though, just like I rarely do more than facially demonstrate annoyance and disapproval when someone illegally parks in an Accessible (not Handicap) parking space.
When visiting family in Texas, I was stunned to hear a family acquaintance casually use "negroid" while describing the prolific mating habits of hummingbirds. Apparently having seen my jaw drop, he rationalized, "You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little bit prejudiced. I am Texan, you know." I myself was born in Texas, but after a brief pause for shock and contemplation, I ended the conversation, walking away instead of entertaining the notion that I should somehow fault or not fault his stereotypes based on his birthplace. Sometimes the issue is not political correctness or the consideration of others. Sometimes the issue is ignorance.
When talking about individuals or groups of people, the tongue has a particular power to oppress and disparage, ignore and overlook, or value and respect. Freedom of speech is precious (not everyone can safely or legally practice it) so to choose words thoughtfully is to honor that freedom. Being "politically-correct" (an undesirable term in itself) is not about telling others how to think. The point is to think about the effect of our own words on others, on the influence words have in our extraordinarily print- and audio-rich lives. My most recent word deletion has been the word "lame," a pejorative for a person with a physical disability; the dilemma I consistently find myself facing when purposefully eliminating a word from my repertoire is that I must replace the word with another, forcing me to expand my active vocabulary. That is the challenge and positive result of erasing disparaging terms from one’s speech (and mind): to find better, more expressive words that do no harm but elucidate the intended meaning. The nuisance of abandoning a few words you never needed is worth the gain of a more thoughtful mind.
===================
I remember my mother explaining to me as a teenager to avoid terms like "slave driver" and "Indian giver." Years later, I shared with her that the phrase "I got gypped" is derogatory, "gyp" being short for "gypsy" – she had taught me well! Saying "That’s gay" flowed easily out of my mouth for years before I had close gay friends and recognized that "gay" is not synonymous with "stupid" or "bad." In the past, I was unfazed to hear someone describing a humiliating situation say, "I wanted to die/ kill myself / slit my wrists/ [insert self-harming term]." Today I flinch at hearing those expressions, now conscious of the grim reality of actual self-harm and suicide.
On my high school soccer team, if a player was injured or performed badly in a game, she was lovingly teased and called a "gimp" "spaz" "short bus" or "sped" (short for Special Education) – it was simply a joke. A few years later I began working with young people with disabilities, including a young woman with Cerebral Palsy. Difficulties with muscle spasticity affect her daily life – she wakes up some mornings with muscle tightness that makes it difficult to stand or walk. I recall the day her mother mentioned that the word "spaz" is short for spasticity. Suddenly, keeping the word "spaz" in my personal lexicon was a low priority. I also recall the day that this young woman—about 13 years old at the time—came home from school and shared with me, through tears, that some kids had made fun of her, called her a "retard." Her pain caused by a single word said in a malicious tone was real and valid; clearly the students’ intention in the moment had been to verbally abuse and belittle her, but it is unlikely they gave it a second thought when they went home.
Getting carried away and becoming the Word-Police (not "Word-Nazi", the use of which trivializes a very real horror) is easy, but alienating and leading people away from self-reflection to conclude that the fault belongs to the offended is not constructive. Pointing out specific distasteful use of language is delicate, and usually not appropriate. When a word has been trained out of my vocabulary, I am able to tell so if I hear someone use the word and it feels like an online pop-up message – I can close that little window, but my attention has been drawn away from the original thought process. My mind departs from the conversation: "Should I mention that the word 'schizo' is rude?" Rarely do I speak up, though, just like I rarely do more than facially demonstrate annoyance and disapproval when someone illegally parks in an Accessible (not Handicap) parking space.
When visiting family in Texas, I was stunned to hear a family acquaintance casually use "negroid" while describing the prolific mating habits of hummingbirds. Apparently having seen my jaw drop, he rationalized, "You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little bit prejudiced. I am Texan, you know." I myself was born in Texas, but after a brief pause for shock and contemplation, I ended the conversation, walking away instead of entertaining the notion that I should somehow fault or not fault his stereotypes based on his birthplace. Sometimes the issue is not political correctness or the consideration of others. Sometimes the issue is ignorance.
When talking about individuals or groups of people, the tongue has a particular power to oppress and disparage, ignore and overlook, or value and respect. Freedom of speech is precious (not everyone can safely or legally practice it) so to choose words thoughtfully is to honor that freedom. Being "politically-correct" (an undesirable term in itself) is not about telling others how to think. The point is to think about the effect of our own words on others, on the influence words have in our extraordinarily print- and audio-rich lives. My most recent word deletion has been the word "lame," a pejorative for a person with a physical disability; the dilemma I consistently find myself facing when purposefully eliminating a word from my repertoire is that I must replace the word with another, forcing me to expand my active vocabulary. That is the challenge and positive result of erasing disparaging terms from one’s speech (and mind): to find better, more expressive words that do no harm but elucidate the intended meaning. The nuisance of abandoning a few words you never needed is worth the gain of a more thoughtful mind.
Body Donation: Life After Death
A reflection on body donation after reading the book Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach. It is not a book review, but rather a way to apply what I learned while reading the book to my own life.
Published on Associated Content.
Published on Associated Content.
Work of Art in Progress
A reflection on a quote by Thomas Crum about living as if each day were a work of art in progress, how busyness can get in the way of this end, and on how to look at our lives and see where changes can be made.
Published on Associated Content.
Published on Associated Content.
100 Healthy Snack Ideas
My first Associated Content assignment was on healthy "emergency" snack ideas.
