Showing posts with label Things that make you wonder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things that make you wonder. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sunday, August 29, 2010
In the Eye of the Beholder
Y'know, I have a real love/hate thing when it comes to art.
Okay. Hate may be too strong of a word. How 'bout irritation? Frustration? Exasperation?
I enjoy art. I appreciate art. One of the things I love about our city is the large amounts of public art scattered all over the place, sometimes in unexpected places. I may not actually like an individual piece, but I like that it's there. I think art is a vital part of culture, and that it's a good thing for everyone, even the "non-artistic" to dabble in the sheer creativity of making art. Art can be fun, thoughtful, lively, morose, silly, deep, and a whole bunch of other things. Two people can look at the same piece of art and perceive it in totally different ways. Ten people can look at the same piece of art and perceive it in as many different ways. In many ways, art is very subjective.
What, however, makes art good? Sometimes the better question is, "is this art at all?" In a country that spends billions of federal dollars on art, on top of the money spent by provincial and municipal governments, I think that's a valid question. If someone creates a piece of art and can find someone to buy it, more power to them, but if the art in question is being pair for with our tax dollars, I think the definition needs to be a bit more limited. Finding out that some guy calling vials of his own semen "art" was given a grant to do it - essentially being paid taxpayers' money to wank off into containers - bothers more than a few people.
There's the rub that I have with the art community. It sometimes seems as if the less likely the general public would like it, the more likely it's being marketed as being "artistic" (as if art was something we plebeians are just too low to be able to get), the artists more "daring," and therefore they must be supported by grants. Lord knows, they wouldn't be able to make a living off their work any other way.
A couple of days ago, Youngest and I took in the local art gallery. Usually, we enjoy the many small (often free) galleries and displays around our city featuring local artists, but this is THE art gallery for our city. The first time we went to it, it was just before the building was mostly demolished and rebuilt (the city insisted part of the building be kept and "recycled," even though doing so was actually more expensive and wasteful... but hey, no one asks the demolitions and construction crews their opinion on the subject). They had an open free for all, where local artists were invited to send in their work for display, which was then made available to the public for viewing for free. Eldest had some of her early work in there, as did a friend of hers. It was pretty fantastic, actually. Some pieces did seem to be made by people who thought they had more skill or talent then they actually had, but the vast majority of art was really excellent. We live in a city full of talent.
The gallery is open again and has one free admissions day a month, so we went to take advantage of it. Unfortunately, when we got there, we discovered the free admission was only during the last 3 hours of their day. So we paid, and I found that the admission rate was quite a bit higher than before they rebuilt. Oh, well. The new building might look like a giant potato chip, but it's a very lovely potato chip. ;-) I think they got their money's worth.
Anyhow. Off we went. There were quite a number of galleries on several floors. One consisted of mostly oil paintings of landscapes, many in tacky, ornate frames. At least we're told some of them were landscapes. Some of them were... pretty abstract, to say the least. Without a sign telling me, I would never have thought that that's what they were.
Here's where things got rather amusing. As we wandered around, we'd come upon some paintings and be rather perplexed as to why it was there. They looked like paint-by-number pieces, or finger paintings done by children. Then we'd read the plaque and discover they were actually Group of Seven. I admit that oil is not my favorite medium when it comes to art, but I can still appreciate skill and talent when I see it. At least I thought I could. These didn't seem to display either, but they're considered high art and the epitome of Canadian art in particular. Exploring why that is would make for an interesting discussion. Another less than stellar example of art turned out to be an Emily Carr piece. Having lived on the West Coast for so long, I knew who she was, but I can't say I like her work all that much. Each to their own. This sort of thing is a matter of personal taste, but the pieces are still clearly art.
Then is was off to a different gallery. The next one we visited was an M. C. Escher display. Now that's art I really enjoy! Not only are the subjects fascinating to look at and the skill required to produce them amazing, they required a fantastic mind just to conceive of these pieces, then plan and execute those ideas to produce images that look like they should exist, but can't. I look at those and, not only am I impressed by the art itself, but I find a strong desire to get to know the mind behind it.
While we were in this gallery, however, we caught up with a guided tour. It was a very small group, and the facilitator was trying to engage them at least somewhat interactively. I don't remember the exact words she used as she spoke, but several times she's say something that had Youngest and I looking at each other in amazement. Not because she'd revealed some spectacular piece of information about any particular piece, but because of the "dumbed down" language and phrasing she used. In trying to get people to talk, she asked what should have been a simple question ("why do you think Escher used colour in this piece?") that got no response. Had we been in the group, we wouldn't have responded, either. I would have been too busy wondering if it was a trick question or something. Was there some sort of symbolism I was missing? Some deeper meaning that we hadn't grasped? Nope. The answer was, "so you could see it [the details] better."
Hmmm.
More wandering around. The new building itself is a work of art, with the potato chip shapes continued inside. Quite striking, really.
Along the way, there were a number of sculptural pieces and some... others. As we approached one piece, Youngest commented that the shapes hanging from the ceiling and knotted on the floor looked like intestines. Intestines made out of someones drapes. Which turned out to be pretty much exactly what they were, except it was upholstery fabric, not drapes. It was a huge piece, too. Another consisted of a long wooden pole with wooden handles hammered into it, like some sort of hedgehog. Two other displayed consisted of glass rods that looked like those bamboo garden stakes at the hardware store, in bundles and leaning against the wall.
A couple of displays were behind black out curtains. One was supposedly a recreation, of sorts, of the artist's bedroom, except it was an almost empty room with some sheets and pillows on the floor, and their weird two-headed creature covered in black flowers coming through a pair of blackout curtains that made up one of the walls. Off to the side was an opening that was supposed to be a closet with some long underwear hanging in it. The write up claimed the long underwear (hand made by the artist) could be viewed as any number of things, including sacred robes.
Uhm... no. There was nothing robe like about them. They looked like somebody's full-body undies.
There was one display behind a blackout curtain we skipped. A video presentation, a quick glance through the curtain at the screen had me dropping it and continuing on my way. I'm rather open with my kids about sexual themes, but some things I'm not about to drag my daughter through. The mom with a 5 or 6 yr old caught a bit of a view through the curtain as I looked, too, and she was quick to steer her daughter away, too. Funny thing is, I'm not even sure exactly what I saw, other than it involved the sex act. At least I hope that's what I saw.
One piece had us standing and staring for a while. We must have looked pretty confused or something, as one of the security staff came over and gave me a brochure describing the displays. The images being projected onto the wall that make me think of my old Spirograph game turned out to be imagery of the brains of the 2 artists who made it, taken while they were sitting still, thinking, but not speaking. I was actually more impressed when I thought it was some sort of interactive lights display. The idea of medical technology being used to record the brains to two guys just sitting there seems so... pretentious to me.
Actually, that's a word that comes up an awful lot when I think of the "art community." Pretentious. If a piece is so confusing and obscure it has to be explained to the viewer, is it really art? When you're standing there, wondering if something is actually one of the gallery pieces, or if someone forgot their lunch on the counter, is it art? Is throwing in images or phrases that are insulting to Christianity enough to make something art? Are a bunch of photographs of different versions covering an entire wall art?
Some art is instantly recognisable as such, whether it's a bunch of metal pieces welded together, an eclectic variety of objects piled onto a shelf or an exquisite rendition of something that can't possibly exist in the real world. One doesn't have to actually like it to recognize it as art.
Other pieces, I just don't know if I'd be willing to call art. I recall one display I saw with the kids years ago. It was made up of shopping carts full of garbage. It was apparently some sort of commentary against consumerism and waste. Except it was still just a bunch of garbage in shopping carts. Other infamous displays I've heard of but, thankfully, have never seen include blenders with goldfish in them. Viewers were welcome to turn the blenders on and kill the fish inside. Another artist got in trouble because his "art" involved putting rats between two pieces of canvas, then dropping something from above to squish them flat. The artist claimed it was okay because the rats were instantly killed, but the animal rights folks were up in arms over it. The artist probably got more of a name for himself from the controversy than he ever got from his actual art.
So the question remains: what is art? Is it just stuff that we can hang on a wall or set on a pedestal? Or is it crucifixes in urine or squished rats? Is it just the pretty and safe things, or dehydrated fetuses turned into earrings? (gosh, that one was so long ago, I'd forgotten about it completely until now!) At what point does something cross the line from being art to being junk?
This is where the art community starts to irritate me. How does an artist or art critic get to a point where they don't consider something "art" unless it's obscure, offensive, bizarre or incomprehensible? I swear, some of these "artists" must just throw things together, make pretty speeches about how it "evokes" this and "represents" that, while in private they're just taking the grant money and laughing over what fools they're making of the hoity-toity set oohing and ahhing over their "work."
I do want to support local art and artists. I do appreciate the hard work and effort that can go into any individual piece.
But sometimes, I just wanna throw up my hands in exasperation over some of the things being passed as "art."
Okay. Hate may be too strong of a word. How 'bout irritation? Frustration? Exasperation?
I enjoy art. I appreciate art. One of the things I love about our city is the large amounts of public art scattered all over the place, sometimes in unexpected places. I may not actually like an individual piece, but I like that it's there. I think art is a vital part of culture, and that it's a good thing for everyone, even the "non-artistic" to dabble in the sheer creativity of making art. Art can be fun, thoughtful, lively, morose, silly, deep, and a whole bunch of other things. Two people can look at the same piece of art and perceive it in totally different ways. Ten people can look at the same piece of art and perceive it in as many different ways. In many ways, art is very subjective.
What, however, makes art good? Sometimes the better question is, "is this art at all?" In a country that spends billions of federal dollars on art, on top of the money spent by provincial and municipal governments, I think that's a valid question. If someone creates a piece of art and can find someone to buy it, more power to them, but if the art in question is being pair for with our tax dollars, I think the definition needs to be a bit more limited. Finding out that some guy calling vials of his own semen "art" was given a grant to do it - essentially being paid taxpayers' money to wank off into containers - bothers more than a few people.
There's the rub that I have with the art community. It sometimes seems as if the less likely the general public would like it, the more likely it's being marketed as being "artistic" (as if art was something we plebeians are just too low to be able to get), the artists more "daring," and therefore they must be supported by grants. Lord knows, they wouldn't be able to make a living off their work any other way.
A couple of days ago, Youngest and I took in the local art gallery. Usually, we enjoy the many small (often free) galleries and displays around our city featuring local artists, but this is THE art gallery for our city. The first time we went to it, it was just before the building was mostly demolished and rebuilt (the city insisted part of the building be kept and "recycled," even though doing so was actually more expensive and wasteful... but hey, no one asks the demolitions and construction crews their opinion on the subject). They had an open free for all, where local artists were invited to send in their work for display, which was then made available to the public for viewing for free. Eldest had some of her early work in there, as did a friend of hers. It was pretty fantastic, actually. Some pieces did seem to be made by people who thought they had more skill or talent then they actually had, but the vast majority of art was really excellent. We live in a city full of talent.
The gallery is open again and has one free admissions day a month, so we went to take advantage of it. Unfortunately, when we got there, we discovered the free admission was only during the last 3 hours of their day. So we paid, and I found that the admission rate was quite a bit higher than before they rebuilt. Oh, well. The new building might look like a giant potato chip, but it's a very lovely potato chip. ;-) I think they got their money's worth.
Anyhow. Off we went. There were quite a number of galleries on several floors. One consisted of mostly oil paintings of landscapes, many in tacky, ornate frames. At least we're told some of them were landscapes. Some of them were... pretty abstract, to say the least. Without a sign telling me, I would never have thought that that's what they were.
Here's where things got rather amusing. As we wandered around, we'd come upon some paintings and be rather perplexed as to why it was there. They looked like paint-by-number pieces, or finger paintings done by children. Then we'd read the plaque and discover they were actually Group of Seven. I admit that oil is not my favorite medium when it comes to art, but I can still appreciate skill and talent when I see it. At least I thought I could. These didn't seem to display either, but they're considered high art and the epitome of Canadian art in particular. Exploring why that is would make for an interesting discussion. Another less than stellar example of art turned out to be an Emily Carr piece. Having lived on the West Coast for so long, I knew who she was, but I can't say I like her work all that much. Each to their own. This sort of thing is a matter of personal taste, but the pieces are still clearly art.
Then is was off to a different gallery. The next one we visited was an M. C. Escher display. Now that's art I really enjoy! Not only are the subjects fascinating to look at and the skill required to produce them amazing, they required a fantastic mind just to conceive of these pieces, then plan and execute those ideas to produce images that look like they should exist, but can't. I look at those and, not only am I impressed by the art itself, but I find a strong desire to get to know the mind behind it.
While we were in this gallery, however, we caught up with a guided tour. It was a very small group, and the facilitator was trying to engage them at least somewhat interactively. I don't remember the exact words she used as she spoke, but several times she's say something that had Youngest and I looking at each other in amazement. Not because she'd revealed some spectacular piece of information about any particular piece, but because of the "dumbed down" language and phrasing she used. In trying to get people to talk, she asked what should have been a simple question ("why do you think Escher used colour in this piece?") that got no response. Had we been in the group, we wouldn't have responded, either. I would have been too busy wondering if it was a trick question or something. Was there some sort of symbolism I was missing? Some deeper meaning that we hadn't grasped? Nope. The answer was, "so you could see it [the details] better."
Hmmm.
More wandering around. The new building itself is a work of art, with the potato chip shapes continued inside. Quite striking, really.
Along the way, there were a number of sculptural pieces and some... others. As we approached one piece, Youngest commented that the shapes hanging from the ceiling and knotted on the floor looked like intestines. Intestines made out of someones drapes. Which turned out to be pretty much exactly what they were, except it was upholstery fabric, not drapes. It was a huge piece, too. Another consisted of a long wooden pole with wooden handles hammered into it, like some sort of hedgehog. Two other displayed consisted of glass rods that looked like those bamboo garden stakes at the hardware store, in bundles and leaning against the wall.
A couple of displays were behind black out curtains. One was supposedly a recreation, of sorts, of the artist's bedroom, except it was an almost empty room with some sheets and pillows on the floor, and their weird two-headed creature covered in black flowers coming through a pair of blackout curtains that made up one of the walls. Off to the side was an opening that was supposed to be a closet with some long underwear hanging in it. The write up claimed the long underwear (hand made by the artist) could be viewed as any number of things, including sacred robes.
Uhm... no. There was nothing robe like about them. They looked like somebody's full-body undies.
There was one display behind a blackout curtain we skipped. A video presentation, a quick glance through the curtain at the screen had me dropping it and continuing on my way. I'm rather open with my kids about sexual themes, but some things I'm not about to drag my daughter through. The mom with a 5 or 6 yr old caught a bit of a view through the curtain as I looked, too, and she was quick to steer her daughter away, too. Funny thing is, I'm not even sure exactly what I saw, other than it involved the sex act. At least I hope that's what I saw.
One piece had us standing and staring for a while. We must have looked pretty confused or something, as one of the security staff came over and gave me a brochure describing the displays. The images being projected onto the wall that make me think of my old Spirograph game turned out to be imagery of the brains of the 2 artists who made it, taken while they were sitting still, thinking, but not speaking. I was actually more impressed when I thought it was some sort of interactive lights display. The idea of medical technology being used to record the brains to two guys just sitting there seems so... pretentious to me.
Actually, that's a word that comes up an awful lot when I think of the "art community." Pretentious. If a piece is so confusing and obscure it has to be explained to the viewer, is it really art? When you're standing there, wondering if something is actually one of the gallery pieces, or if someone forgot their lunch on the counter, is it art? Is throwing in images or phrases that are insulting to Christianity enough to make something art? Are a bunch of photographs of different versions covering an entire wall art?
Some art is instantly recognisable as such, whether it's a bunch of metal pieces welded together, an eclectic variety of objects piled onto a shelf or an exquisite rendition of something that can't possibly exist in the real world. One doesn't have to actually like it to recognize it as art.
Other pieces, I just don't know if I'd be willing to call art. I recall one display I saw with the kids years ago. It was made up of shopping carts full of garbage. It was apparently some sort of commentary against consumerism and waste. Except it was still just a bunch of garbage in shopping carts. Other infamous displays I've heard of but, thankfully, have never seen include blenders with goldfish in them. Viewers were welcome to turn the blenders on and kill the fish inside. Another artist got in trouble because his "art" involved putting rats between two pieces of canvas, then dropping something from above to squish them flat. The artist claimed it was okay because the rats were instantly killed, but the animal rights folks were up in arms over it. The artist probably got more of a name for himself from the controversy than he ever got from his actual art.
So the question remains: what is art? Is it just stuff that we can hang on a wall or set on a pedestal? Or is it crucifixes in urine or squished rats? Is it just the pretty and safe things, or dehydrated fetuses turned into earrings? (gosh, that one was so long ago, I'd forgotten about it completely until now!) At what point does something cross the line from being art to being junk?
This is where the art community starts to irritate me. How does an artist or art critic get to a point where they don't consider something "art" unless it's obscure, offensive, bizarre or incomprehensible? I swear, some of these "artists" must just throw things together, make pretty speeches about how it "evokes" this and "represents" that, while in private they're just taking the grant money and laughing over what fools they're making of the hoity-toity set oohing and ahhing over their "work."
I do want to support local art and artists. I do appreciate the hard work and effort that can go into any individual piece.
But sometimes, I just wanna throw up my hands in exasperation over some of the things being passed as "art."
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Princess MeMeMe!
I say an interesting article in the news about "princess culture." I thought it worth passing on, with a few of my own thoughts on the subject. Here's the link to the article.
Princess culture turning girls into overspending narcissists.
The article starts with a mom who is concerned about her 4 yr old daughter's obsession with princesses. She laments;
Excuse my confusion here. Her 4 yr old daughter knows all about Belle's fashion and hair styles, but doesn't know the story. This is identified as a problem and... Mom goes off to study princess culture? I don't know, but to me, the obvious solution would be to tell her 4 yr old the story. It could be the Disney version. It could be the watered down modern versions. It could be one of the many older versions, though those might be a bit frightening for a 4 yr old.
Well, maybe she's getting paid for it. Fair enough.
The article goes on to talk about how increasing numbers of little girls are growing up believing they really are princesses - or that they should be treated like fairytale princesses (real princesses have duties and obligations, and while they might have a lot of material wealth, there usually isn't a whole lot of freedom). It seems there are adult women who still think of themselves as princesses, manipulating the people around them, going into debt, and generally being royal pains to maintain the lifestyle they believe they are entitled to. So many, in fact, that there's going to be a TV show about them, Princess, on Slice Network.
The article examines some of the reasons for this. Of course, Disney figures largely in this, having heavily marketed their Princess line since 2000. The wedding of Lady Diana Spencer to Prince Charles is also viewed as a contributing factor. Finally, Disney is again brought into the picture with their boutique aimed at girls aged 3 and up.
I actually encountered someone who's daughter apparently was convinced she was a real princess. She'd shown up at one of our home school group park days. We'd started talking about helping our children have a healthy self esteem when she described how it was possible to go overboard. They had always told her daughter she had a lovely singing voice, but in reality, she had a terrible voice. Because they always told her her voice was beautiful, their daughter had no idea she was actually a terrible singer. Hmmm... Then she said that they'd always called their daughter a princess. They didn't realize this had become a problem until she started preschool. She started telling everyone that she was a princess - a real princess - and no one could convince her otherwise. I wasn't sure what to make of the conversation. On the one hand, the mother was acknowledging that this was probably not a good thing, but on the other, she seemed to me to be rather proud and amused by the whole thing. I don't know what came of it, as she didn't continue to go to the park days. This was a few years ago. I wonder how it worked out.
One thing I don't think this mother did was overindulge her daughter as described in the article. The money spent on parties, clothing and accessories, even furniture, by the parents of these princesses is pretty staggering. The money these adult princesses are spending is also staggering. One woman is described as having US$25,000 worth of shoes and handbags (which I found interesting, considering this recent post on Sociological Images), while also being $25,000 in debt. Another woman is described as planning on dumping her $20,000 in debt on her fiance. One of my nephews had a fiance that tried to do that to him - and it was just a car payment. He broke off the engagement. Wise young man that he is, he clued in that if she was willing to do that before they were married, chances were she'd be willing to do far worse after they were married. One of the primary reasons given for divorce is financial problems.
Anyhow. Back to the article.
Four factors are identified as contributing to narcissistic princess behaviour. Overindulgent parents, a culture of celebrity, the Internet and easy credit. To me, these factors would certainly be enough to create Princess MeMeMe - but I also see them as being easily countered. The parenting... well, maybe not. If a parent doesn't really know any better, they wouldn't know that what they're doing is a problem. Our culture has a significant lack of parenting role models, as we no longer have the extended families and close knit communities that used to be the source of parenting knowledge. Now, people are more likely to get their parenting advice from their doctors, books, magazines and TV shows. :-P
I've found it rather easy to ignore our culture of celebrity. I have little patience for it. I think it's easier for me because I never really grew up with it in the first place - one of the side benefits of growing up on a farm two sticks ahead of the stone ages. The Internet? That's neutral. It's how one chooses to use it that can be the issue. Easy credit? Yeah, that can be a problem. Lord knows, it screwed us up back when we were younger, and we were far from being big spenders!
The mother at the beginning of the article is brought up again...
Confusion again. Why try to ban princesses entirely? Why would she even want to go to that extreme? If she recognises that this separation of the image from the stories is such a problem, how is banning the image going to solve the problem? Why doesn't she, as the parent, tell her daughter the stories? My kids watched princess movies, too. They even had Barbie dolls and princess dress up stuff. I let them put on make up (though I did insist on it being real make up, not that disgusting crap being marketed for children as dress-up stuff). I also read them the stories. We had the Disney versions. We had other versions. What has developed over the years is an interest in fairy tales, and discovering the earlier versions, or finding that there are several different versions. That led to them exploring other stories, then delving into mythology, and searching out stories from other cultures. One of Eldest's favorites is a book of fairy tales where all the heroes were elderly. Youngest has developed a love for Irish folklore. All of this grew out of watching Disney's princess movies.
Shuler is then quoted;
Uhm... yeah. Banning them would certainly be viewed as killjoy behaviour, and she's back on missing the story. I'm still not getting her. She recognises the lack of context as a problem. The solution is pretty obvious. Quit "studying" the problem and tell your kid the flippin' stories already!
As the article continues, it's at least acknowledged that the marketing is taking advantage of an already existing potential market. The corporations didn't create the princess niche, they just filled it.
I found this part rather odd.
First, there's the idea that a 2 yr old has "princess ambitions" and that they need to be stomped on. Then we're apparently supposed to view having a 3 1/2 yr old compliment us by saying we look like a princess as being a bad thing. Why couldn't that just be viewed as a delightful comment from a very young child? Personally, I would have found that rather sweet.
The article goes on to talk about the upcoming show and some of the women that will be on it. There are media comparisons, such as a character in Sex and the City - a show I've only ever seen one episode of and could never understand how it became popular. The article ends with three things to blame for the Princess MeMeMe culture.
1) the marriage of Lady Diana Spencer to Prince Charles.
2) Disney's massively marketed princess line.
3) Disney opening its Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutiques, marketed at females aged 3 and up, from make overs and hair styles to wedding dresses.
I can somewhat agree with the first one. The royal wedding was a worldwide event, in a way no other royal wedding had ever been before. Lady Diana was almost a commoner (she was still a Lady, after all, but not royalty). She caught the eye of a prince and became a real princess and was expected to someday become queen. It was the fairy tale come true, complete with horse drawn carriage and all the glamour a princess wannabe could imagine. I can see that the young girls who watched this fantasy turned reality (even though the fairy tale ending was far from Happily Ever After) would grow up to have little girls they'd want to treat like the princesses they imagined themselves to be. I don't think it's quite enough, though.
As for the other two, I think blaming Disney is far too simplistic. Yes, their Princess line is being marketed to death, but as was briefly mentioned earlier in the article, they didn't create the market, they just took advantage of it. Blaming their boutiques, however, is even more of a stretch. Just how many people live near one of these boutiques? I'd never even heard of them until I read this article. Looking it up, I see that there are only two of them, and they are part of the the theme parks. They even have a "Cool Dudes" package - gel hair and confetti! To me, that makes it even more of a stretch, since the theme parks are all about the fantasy. These are highly localized services, not available all over the place the way the merchandise is. It would make more sense to me to blame the creepy child beauty pageants or helicopter parenting.
I don't know. My family is so far out of the mainstream, I have a hard time imagining the combination of things that would create a Princess MeMeMe. How is parents playing along with the Princess fantasy any worse than playing along with the Easter Bunny fantasy or Santa Clause fantasy? At what point does it cross the line?
Where is the line?
Princess culture turning girls into overspending narcissists.
The article starts with a mom who is concerned about her 4 yr old daughter's obsession with princesses. She laments;
"I have a four-year-old who is completely into princesses, but she doesn't know their stories. She knows what Belle's hair looks like and what her dress looks like, but she doesn't know the story," Shuler says.So what does she do about it?
A communications professor at Creighton University in Nebraska, Shuler decided to take a sabbatical to study what academics are starting to call "princess culture:" young girls inundated by films, books, toys, clothes, and enabled by friends and family who encourage them to see themselves as bona fide blue-bloods.
Excuse my confusion here. Her 4 yr old daughter knows all about Belle's fashion and hair styles, but doesn't know the story. This is identified as a problem and... Mom goes off to study princess culture? I don't know, but to me, the obvious solution would be to tell her 4 yr old the story. It could be the Disney version. It could be the watered down modern versions. It could be one of the many older versions, though those might be a bit frightening for a 4 yr old.
Well, maybe she's getting paid for it. Fair enough.
The article goes on to talk about how increasing numbers of little girls are growing up believing they really are princesses - or that they should be treated like fairytale princesses (real princesses have duties and obligations, and while they might have a lot of material wealth, there usually isn't a whole lot of freedom). It seems there are adult women who still think of themselves as princesses, manipulating the people around them, going into debt, and generally being royal pains to maintain the lifestyle they believe they are entitled to. So many, in fact, that there's going to be a TV show about them, Princess, on Slice Network.
The article examines some of the reasons for this. Of course, Disney figures largely in this, having heavily marketed their Princess line since 2000. The wedding of Lady Diana Spencer to Prince Charles is also viewed as a contributing factor. Finally, Disney is again brought into the picture with their boutique aimed at girls aged 3 and up.
I actually encountered someone who's daughter apparently was convinced she was a real princess. She'd shown up at one of our home school group park days. We'd started talking about helping our children have a healthy self esteem when she described how it was possible to go overboard. They had always told her daughter she had a lovely singing voice, but in reality, she had a terrible voice. Because they always told her her voice was beautiful, their daughter had no idea she was actually a terrible singer. Hmmm... Then she said that they'd always called their daughter a princess. They didn't realize this had become a problem until she started preschool. She started telling everyone that she was a princess - a real princess - and no one could convince her otherwise. I wasn't sure what to make of the conversation. On the one hand, the mother was acknowledging that this was probably not a good thing, but on the other, she seemed to me to be rather proud and amused by the whole thing. I don't know what came of it, as she didn't continue to go to the park days. This was a few years ago. I wonder how it worked out.
One thing I don't think this mother did was overindulge her daughter as described in the article. The money spent on parties, clothing and accessories, even furniture, by the parents of these princesses is pretty staggering. The money these adult princesses are spending is also staggering. One woman is described as having US$25,000 worth of shoes and handbags (which I found interesting, considering this recent post on Sociological Images), while also being $25,000 in debt. Another woman is described as planning on dumping her $20,000 in debt on her fiance. One of my nephews had a fiance that tried to do that to him - and it was just a car payment. He broke off the engagement. Wise young man that he is, he clued in that if she was willing to do that before they were married, chances were she'd be willing to do far worse after they were married. One of the primary reasons given for divorce is financial problems.
Anyhow. Back to the article.
Four factors are identified as contributing to narcissistic princess behaviour. Overindulgent parents, a culture of celebrity, the Internet and easy credit. To me, these factors would certainly be enough to create Princess MeMeMe - but I also see them as being easily countered. The parenting... well, maybe not. If a parent doesn't really know any better, they wouldn't know that what they're doing is a problem. Our culture has a significant lack of parenting role models, as we no longer have the extended families and close knit communities that used to be the source of parenting knowledge. Now, people are more likely to get their parenting advice from their doctors, books, magazines and TV shows. :-P
I've found it rather easy to ignore our culture of celebrity. I have little patience for it. I think it's easier for me because I never really grew up with it in the first place - one of the side benefits of growing up on a farm two sticks ahead of the stone ages. The Internet? That's neutral. It's how one chooses to use it that can be the issue. Easy credit? Yeah, that can be a problem. Lord knows, it screwed us up back when we were younger, and we were far from being big spenders!
The mother at the beginning of the article is brought up again...
Shuler has never been successful in entirely banning princesses from her daughter's life. She believes the biggest danger to little girls is that princess images are separated from the stories of smart, resilient young women.
Confusion again. Why try to ban princesses entirely? Why would she even want to go to that extreme? If she recognises that this separation of the image from the stories is such a problem, how is banning the image going to solve the problem? Why doesn't she, as the parent, tell her daughter the stories? My kids watched princess movies, too. They even had Barbie dolls and princess dress up stuff. I let them put on make up (though I did insist on it being real make up, not that disgusting crap being marketed for children as dress-up stuff). I also read them the stories. We had the Disney versions. We had other versions. What has developed over the years is an interest in fairy tales, and discovering the earlier versions, or finding that there are several different versions. That led to them exploring other stories, then delving into mythology, and searching out stories from other cultures. One of Eldest's favorites is a book of fairy tales where all the heroes were elderly. Youngest has developed a love for Irish folklore. All of this grew out of watching Disney's princess movies.
Shuler is then quoted;
"I don't think these images are inherently harmful. When they're drained of context, that's the harmful thing. When we strip princesses out of the story, we miss many of the potential good lessons.
"It's all about how to navigate it with our values without being killjoys."
Uhm... yeah. Banning them would certainly be viewed as killjoy behaviour, and she's back on missing the story. I'm still not getting her. She recognises the lack of context as a problem. The solution is pretty obvious. Quit "studying" the problem and tell your kid the flippin' stories already!
As the article continues, it's at least acknowledged that the marketing is taking advantage of an already existing potential market. The corporations didn't create the princess niche, they just filled it.
I found this part rather odd.
Twenge herself has had limited success in stomping on her own daughter's princess ambitions.
"When she was two, she said, `I'm a princess.' I said, `No, you're not.' So she went on eating her breakfast," says Twenge.
More than a year later, at the age of three-and-a-half, her daughter admired her mother in a dress and offered what she thought was the ultimate compliment.
"You look like a princess."
First, there's the idea that a 2 yr old has "princess ambitions" and that they need to be stomped on. Then we're apparently supposed to view having a 3 1/2 yr old compliment us by saying we look like a princess as being a bad thing. Why couldn't that just be viewed as a delightful comment from a very young child? Personally, I would have found that rather sweet.
The article goes on to talk about the upcoming show and some of the women that will be on it. There are media comparisons, such as a character in Sex and the City - a show I've only ever seen one episode of and could never understand how it became popular. The article ends with three things to blame for the Princess MeMeMe culture.
1) the marriage of Lady Diana Spencer to Prince Charles.
2) Disney's massively marketed princess line.
3) Disney opening its Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutiques, marketed at females aged 3 and up, from make overs and hair styles to wedding dresses.
I can somewhat agree with the first one. The royal wedding was a worldwide event, in a way no other royal wedding had ever been before. Lady Diana was almost a commoner (she was still a Lady, after all, but not royalty). She caught the eye of a prince and became a real princess and was expected to someday become queen. It was the fairy tale come true, complete with horse drawn carriage and all the glamour a princess wannabe could imagine. I can see that the young girls who watched this fantasy turned reality (even though the fairy tale ending was far from Happily Ever After) would grow up to have little girls they'd want to treat like the princesses they imagined themselves to be. I don't think it's quite enough, though.
As for the other two, I think blaming Disney is far too simplistic. Yes, their Princess line is being marketed to death, but as was briefly mentioned earlier in the article, they didn't create the market, they just took advantage of it. Blaming their boutiques, however, is even more of a stretch. Just how many people live near one of these boutiques? I'd never even heard of them until I read this article. Looking it up, I see that there are only two of them, and they are part of the the theme parks. They even have a "Cool Dudes" package - gel hair and confetti! To me, that makes it even more of a stretch, since the theme parks are all about the fantasy. These are highly localized services, not available all over the place the way the merchandise is. It would make more sense to me to blame the creepy child beauty pageants or helicopter parenting.
I don't know. My family is so far out of the mainstream, I have a hard time imagining the combination of things that would create a Princess MeMeMe. How is parents playing along with the Princess fantasy any worse than playing along with the Easter Bunny fantasy or Santa Clause fantasy? At what point does it cross the line?
Where is the line?
Monday, June 14, 2010
We interrupt this moment to bring you another interruption.
In the last several years or so I've been making extra effort to battle my inner hermit and actually get out and socialize more often. For the past while, my primary source of socialization has been with other home schoolers. More recently I've gone out of my way to get involved more directly with various groups, and to actively participate in things. For someone who would quite happily stay at home with my kids, my books and my crafting tools, this is a challenge.
Eldest, bless her heart, has been keeping me company on many occasions. This has not always led to positive experiences for her.
One of the things we've frequently come across is an amazing lack of social manners. More specifically, frequent interruptions and seeming inability to listen to others, even when they do get a chance to talk. This has not been limited to any particular group dynamic. It's endemic to pretty much any gathering of people, small or large.
What typically happens is a person begins discussion of a topic. This catches the attention of one of the listeners, who promptly interrupts and begins describing their experience with the topic. In some cases, I've seen people interrupt with a completely different subject. Sometimes the first person stops talking due to the interruption. Sometimes not. Then a third person jumps in with their thoughts on the subject, interrupting the others. Before you know it, there are three or four people, all talking at once, each trying to be heard above the others, and no one is really listening to anyone else.
Now, as children, most of us have been taught not to interrupt when someone is speaking. I certainly was, and passed that on to my own children. I've certainly seen parents admonishing their children on that very point, which makes it even more curious to me when I see them then turn around and do what they just finished telling their kids not to do.
As I child, I perhaps learned this lesson too well. As I got older, I frequently found myself outside of conversations, being in social groups, but not part of them, simply because I never got the chance to speak. Or, more accurately, no one stopped talking long enough for me to inject my own voice into the conversation. Often, when there finally was a lull for me to speak up in, someone else would simply start talking, interrupting me completely. Being the polite person I was taught to be, I would stop and let them speak their piece, waiting for the next moment to speak myself. Chances were pretty good that, by the time the moment finally arrived, I either no longer remembered what I meant to say, or the conversation had moved on to a completely different topic, making what I had to say irrelevant.
Over the years, I began to realize that the only way I'd be able to say anything was to not stop talking when someone interrupted me. Often the person trying to interrupt would stop and let me finish, then jump in when I was done. A surprising number of times, however, the interrupter would simply ignore the fact that I hadn't stop talking, and just keep on talking themselves.
A number of years ago I read the book, Personality Plus. The book talks about the four basic personality types, and the pluses and negatives they have. One personality type, the Sanguine, is the social butterfly and people person. These are the folks that walk up to strangers at a party and talk to them as if they've known them all their lives. They are open and friendly and love being the centre of attention, which works out rather well since they often attract people to themselves by the sheer vibrancy of their personalities. On the down side, they tend to dominate conversations, under the impression that everyone around them is riveted to their words, and they're often guilty of "embellishing" stories. The author made a challenge to these talkative types. The next time a Sanguine was in a social group, regaling the others with a story, and something interrupted their speech, they were not to continue the story when the interruption ended unless one of the listeners specifically asked them to continue. This challenge was a way for the Sanguine to see if those around them really were interested in what they were saying, or if they were just being polite (or unable to get a word in edgewise themselves). If no one asked them to continue, it meant they really didn't want to hear the story.
Now, I don't have a Sanguine bone in my body. It's taken a great deal of effort to develop the conversational skills Sanguines seem born to. Still, I decided to give it a try. Whenever I next found myself talking with a group of people and got interrupted, I would stop and wait to see if anyone wanted to hear the rest of what I was saying.
No one ever did. At least not until I had kids. They, and eventually my husband, are pretty much the only people that regularly ask me to continue with what I'd been saying before the interruption. Being an observer of people, it occurred to me that one of the reasons was that whatever the interruption was, it was distracting enough that people didn't remember to ask. With some interruptions, I actually forget what I'd been saying myself! Other times, I noted that the interruption led to a complete change in conversation, so that going back to what a person was saying no longer made any sense.
Most of the time, though, it seemed to me that people just weren't interested in listening, and far too many were interested only in hearing themselves talk, welcoming the interruption (or doing the interrupting) as a way for themselves to take over the conversation.
When I was a kid, the constant interruptions by the people around me, preventing me from taking part in any conversations, was pretty painful and left me feeling very isolated and alone. As a result, I spent many years on the sidelines, never really trying to take part in conversations, convinced that no one cared about me, my thoughts or my feelings on any given topic. I had been taught that one showed care and respect by not interrupting and listening to people when they spoke. That no one did this to me had to mean that they neither cared for, nor respected, me.
As I grew older and studied people more intently, I eventually realized it usually wasn't personal. People tend towards self interest and self absorption. It wasn't that they were deliberately shunning me; chances are they weren't even thinking of me. They were thinking of themselves and what they wanted to say, and often didn't even seem to notice that they were cutting me off. It may have been extremely rude, but they typically didn't even notice that they were doing it.
The results of my little experiment from the book did change things for me. Now if someone is talking and something happens to interrupt them, I try to make a point of bringing things back to them and asking them to continue. Because, you know what? I really do want to hear what they're saying!
While everyone is guilty of interrupting at some point (and sometimes it's necessary), I feel it shows considerable lack of respect. So does dominating a conversation, preventing others from taking part. To me, it's just plain polite to listen to the person speaking - and I mean actually listening, not vaguely paying attention while thinking up your own response. I admit that part is a struggle for me. A person might say something that catches my attention, causing a sort of chain reaction of thoughts on it, and suddenly I realize that I've completely missed the rest of what the person has been saying. This is particularly difficult do avoid when my auditory processing issues come into play. If a room is noisy, or if there are various visual distractions, and I suddenly stop being able to hear a person's words, I have to really stand vigilant over my own thoughts, or I will disappear into my own mind, completely tuning out the other person. It would be completely rude, and I try to avoid it.
Having said that, my habit of actually waiting for others to finish what they're saying before responding myself usually ends up with me not talking at all. I might start out trying to take part in a conversation, but after a while, I just sit and listen. There's no point in adding my own voice to the three or four already trying to shout each other down.
The problem with this sort of thing is that, when things get to that point, there's no longer a conversation. There's no give and take of ideas. The participants aren't really caring what the others have to say, because they're already working out what they want to say - and saying it.
I'm not trying to say that conversations should be just a bunch of people sitting around in a circle, taking turns talking. A lively conversation is filled with plenty of back-and-forthing. Especially when those partaking in it are on the same wavelength. What Eldest and I have been increasingly seeing is groups of people who are basically all having conversations with themselves at the same time. It seems the only way to take part in such a conversation - if one could even call it "taking part" - is to interrupt the interrupters! Since I thoroughly dislike doing that, it usually means I end up not being part of the conversation.
Since the reason I'm there in the first place is to expand my social activities, ending up just sitting there, not interacting with the others in the group, seems to rather defeat the purpose of being there at all.
Eldest, bless her heart, has been keeping me company on many occasions. This has not always led to positive experiences for her.
One of the things we've frequently come across is an amazing lack of social manners. More specifically, frequent interruptions and seeming inability to listen to others, even when they do get a chance to talk. This has not been limited to any particular group dynamic. It's endemic to pretty much any gathering of people, small or large.
What typically happens is a person begins discussion of a topic. This catches the attention of one of the listeners, who promptly interrupts and begins describing their experience with the topic. In some cases, I've seen people interrupt with a completely different subject. Sometimes the first person stops talking due to the interruption. Sometimes not. Then a third person jumps in with their thoughts on the subject, interrupting the others. Before you know it, there are three or four people, all talking at once, each trying to be heard above the others, and no one is really listening to anyone else.
Now, as children, most of us have been taught not to interrupt when someone is speaking. I certainly was, and passed that on to my own children. I've certainly seen parents admonishing their children on that very point, which makes it even more curious to me when I see them then turn around and do what they just finished telling their kids not to do.
As I child, I perhaps learned this lesson too well. As I got older, I frequently found myself outside of conversations, being in social groups, but not part of them, simply because I never got the chance to speak. Or, more accurately, no one stopped talking long enough for me to inject my own voice into the conversation. Often, when there finally was a lull for me to speak up in, someone else would simply start talking, interrupting me completely. Being the polite person I was taught to be, I would stop and let them speak their piece, waiting for the next moment to speak myself. Chances were pretty good that, by the time the moment finally arrived, I either no longer remembered what I meant to say, or the conversation had moved on to a completely different topic, making what I had to say irrelevant.
Over the years, I began to realize that the only way I'd be able to say anything was to not stop talking when someone interrupted me. Often the person trying to interrupt would stop and let me finish, then jump in when I was done. A surprising number of times, however, the interrupter would simply ignore the fact that I hadn't stop talking, and just keep on talking themselves.
A number of years ago I read the book, Personality Plus. The book talks about the four basic personality types, and the pluses and negatives they have. One personality type, the Sanguine, is the social butterfly and people person. These are the folks that walk up to strangers at a party and talk to them as if they've known them all their lives. They are open and friendly and love being the centre of attention, which works out rather well since they often attract people to themselves by the sheer vibrancy of their personalities. On the down side, they tend to dominate conversations, under the impression that everyone around them is riveted to their words, and they're often guilty of "embellishing" stories. The author made a challenge to these talkative types. The next time a Sanguine was in a social group, regaling the others with a story, and something interrupted their speech, they were not to continue the story when the interruption ended unless one of the listeners specifically asked them to continue. This challenge was a way for the Sanguine to see if those around them really were interested in what they were saying, or if they were just being polite (or unable to get a word in edgewise themselves). If no one asked them to continue, it meant they really didn't want to hear the story.
Now, I don't have a Sanguine bone in my body. It's taken a great deal of effort to develop the conversational skills Sanguines seem born to. Still, I decided to give it a try. Whenever I next found myself talking with a group of people and got interrupted, I would stop and wait to see if anyone wanted to hear the rest of what I was saying.
No one ever did. At least not until I had kids. They, and eventually my husband, are pretty much the only people that regularly ask me to continue with what I'd been saying before the interruption. Being an observer of people, it occurred to me that one of the reasons was that whatever the interruption was, it was distracting enough that people didn't remember to ask. With some interruptions, I actually forget what I'd been saying myself! Other times, I noted that the interruption led to a complete change in conversation, so that going back to what a person was saying no longer made any sense.
Most of the time, though, it seemed to me that people just weren't interested in listening, and far too many were interested only in hearing themselves talk, welcoming the interruption (or doing the interrupting) as a way for themselves to take over the conversation.
When I was a kid, the constant interruptions by the people around me, preventing me from taking part in any conversations, was pretty painful and left me feeling very isolated and alone. As a result, I spent many years on the sidelines, never really trying to take part in conversations, convinced that no one cared about me, my thoughts or my feelings on any given topic. I had been taught that one showed care and respect by not interrupting and listening to people when they spoke. That no one did this to me had to mean that they neither cared for, nor respected, me.
As I grew older and studied people more intently, I eventually realized it usually wasn't personal. People tend towards self interest and self absorption. It wasn't that they were deliberately shunning me; chances are they weren't even thinking of me. They were thinking of themselves and what they wanted to say, and often didn't even seem to notice that they were cutting me off. It may have been extremely rude, but they typically didn't even notice that they were doing it.
The results of my little experiment from the book did change things for me. Now if someone is talking and something happens to interrupt them, I try to make a point of bringing things back to them and asking them to continue. Because, you know what? I really do want to hear what they're saying!
While everyone is guilty of interrupting at some point (and sometimes it's necessary), I feel it shows considerable lack of respect. So does dominating a conversation, preventing others from taking part. To me, it's just plain polite to listen to the person speaking - and I mean actually listening, not vaguely paying attention while thinking up your own response. I admit that part is a struggle for me. A person might say something that catches my attention, causing a sort of chain reaction of thoughts on it, and suddenly I realize that I've completely missed the rest of what the person has been saying. This is particularly difficult do avoid when my auditory processing issues come into play. If a room is noisy, or if there are various visual distractions, and I suddenly stop being able to hear a person's words, I have to really stand vigilant over my own thoughts, or I will disappear into my own mind, completely tuning out the other person. It would be completely rude, and I try to avoid it.
Having said that, my habit of actually waiting for others to finish what they're saying before responding myself usually ends up with me not talking at all. I might start out trying to take part in a conversation, but after a while, I just sit and listen. There's no point in adding my own voice to the three or four already trying to shout each other down.
The problem with this sort of thing is that, when things get to that point, there's no longer a conversation. There's no give and take of ideas. The participants aren't really caring what the others have to say, because they're already working out what they want to say - and saying it.
I'm not trying to say that conversations should be just a bunch of people sitting around in a circle, taking turns talking. A lively conversation is filled with plenty of back-and-forthing. Especially when those partaking in it are on the same wavelength. What Eldest and I have been increasingly seeing is groups of people who are basically all having conversations with themselves at the same time. It seems the only way to take part in such a conversation - if one could even call it "taking part" - is to interrupt the interrupters! Since I thoroughly dislike doing that, it usually means I end up not being part of the conversation.
Since the reason I'm there in the first place is to expand my social activities, ending up just sitting there, not interacting with the others in the group, seems to rather defeat the purpose of being there at all.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Learning to read without schooling
I've recently discovered Peter Gray's blog, Freedom to Learn, at Psychology Today and have found it excellent reading. In one of his posts, he has asked for stories about self directed learning. One of the topics suggested is learning to read without schooling, and I thought it Eldest's story was an appropriate example.
When Eldest was about 4 years old, she adamantly insisted that she did not want to learn how to read. Ever. I asked her how she would go about living life without learning to read, since there would be times when she would want to seek out information in books. She answered that she would get me or Dh to read to her. I did point out that we wouldn't always be available, but she still insisted she was not going to learn how to read.
Now, one thing I learned fairly quickly with Eldest is that she wasn't the sort you can sit down and "teach" things to. Attempts to do so tended to backfire. (She's better able to tolerate it now that she's older, but it's still far from her ideal way to learn.) She has always had high expectations of herself, and when she couldn't pick things up perfectly the first time she tried, she was by far the hardest on herself than anyone else. One of my biggest challenges as a home schooling parent was to help her accept failure as a path to success, and that it's perfectly normal and acceptable to not get things right the first time. There would be a great deal of anxiety, and she would immediately pull back from the topic, no matter how interesting she found it, or how motivated she started out. I remember having similar feelings (still have them, actually), and I definitely remember the almost physical pain such feelings involved. So the last thing I was going to do was make her learn how to read. Nor was I going to give her a hard time about her proclamations about never learning how. On the contrary, I knew that if she was going to learn how to read, the best thing I could do was just read a lot myself - either to her directly, or for my own pleasure in her vicinity.
Dh and I have always been bibliophiles, and even with all our moves, our homes have been filled with books. It was the natural thing for us to get lots of books for our daughter. One was the set, My First Steps to Reading, which we have since passed on. Each book in the set followed a child who was Little "a" or Little "b" and so on through the alphabet. On the inside covers was an image of all the little letter children in alphabetical order, with a few things near them with names starting with their letters. We'd read these to her, starting out by singing through the alphabet, asking her if she could find the different children (each wore their letter on the front of their shirts), or some other object around them. It was a fun game we had with her.
When Eldest was 5, she was still insisting that she didn't want to learn how to read, but every now and then, I would catch her teaching herself to both read and write. I remember walking into a room and finding her with one of these First Steps books. She was looking at the children in a row on the inside cover, then copying the letters on their shirts on her chalk board. Thankfully, she never noticed me coming into the room, and I immediately backed out. If she had seen me, she would have immediately stopped, and probably wouldn't have tried again for a long time, in the off chance I might walk in unexpectedly. Other times, I would be busy with something or other and she would walk into the room with book, asking me about a specific word. I'd tell her what the word was, she'd thank me and leave. I knew not to try the usual recommended suggestion of asking the child to sound a word out, think it through, etc. If I'd done that, she would have stopped asking for help, and stopped trying to read. She didn't limit herself to children's books, either, and with the exception of some older, more fragile, books, we never restricted her access to any books we had.
By the age of 6, Eldest was fully literate, no longer needing to write out the letters and words to figure them out, and reading well beyond her age level. She was also a voracious reader, diligently working her way through our home library. At age 10, one of her favorite books was a university Sociology textbook we picked up at a garage sale. She rarely needed to ask me how to read a word, or what a word meant. Today, she loves words, and her favorite books include dictionaries, a thesaurus, and Elements of Style.
Youngest is also largely a self taught reader. It took her a bit longer, and she didn't develop an actual love of reading until a year or two ago when, during our weekly library trips, she discovered her love of mythology. She's not the logophile her sister is, but few people are. ;-) Her learning to read was so gradual, I really can't pinpoint any age when she went from being illiterate to literate, nor can I even succinctly explain how she learned to read.
I do, however, remember the day I myself became a reader. We weren't big readers in my own home, though we had many books. My parents didn't have time to sit and read to me, and if they did, it wouldn't have been in English, a language they still are not comfortable reading in. I started school in first grade with absolutely no familial preparation for reading. I remember sitting at my desk holding a book with a line drawing of a young girl. The teacher asked me to read that page. I told her I didn't know how to read. She asked me to say, "Mary."
"Mary," I repeated.
"There," she told me. "You just read that page."
The teacher then continued on with the class, but I remembered looking down at the page in awe. Suddenly, that strange group of lines under the image of a girl was the name, "Mary." Something had clicked in my mind, and it was like a revelation. It wasn't long before I was able to delve into the world of books, and spent much of my school years nose deep into some novel. I actually got into trouble for reading too much, and reading ahead of the class. I didn't care. Once that door in my mind opened, nothing else mattered. Books had become a major part of my world. It saddens me when I think of people who leave school swearing never to read another book again, having been traumatized by being forced to read throughout their school years. Reading, to them, was something painful, and they couldn't wait to get away from doing it. How much better could it have been if, rather than forcing kids to read because it was decided that kids should be reading at specific levels based on their ages, they were allowed to learn to read at their own pace, based on their own initiative and interest.
Sure, they might not all have become bibliophiles, but at least reading wouldn't be something hated, and to be avoided for the rest of their lives!
When Eldest was about 4 years old, she adamantly insisted that she did not want to learn how to read. Ever. I asked her how she would go about living life without learning to read, since there would be times when she would want to seek out information in books. She answered that she would get me or Dh to read to her. I did point out that we wouldn't always be available, but she still insisted she was not going to learn how to read.
Now, one thing I learned fairly quickly with Eldest is that she wasn't the sort you can sit down and "teach" things to. Attempts to do so tended to backfire. (She's better able to tolerate it now that she's older, but it's still far from her ideal way to learn.) She has always had high expectations of herself, and when she couldn't pick things up perfectly the first time she tried, she was by far the hardest on herself than anyone else. One of my biggest challenges as a home schooling parent was to help her accept failure as a path to success, and that it's perfectly normal and acceptable to not get things right the first time. There would be a great deal of anxiety, and she would immediately pull back from the topic, no matter how interesting she found it, or how motivated she started out. I remember having similar feelings (still have them, actually), and I definitely remember the almost physical pain such feelings involved. So the last thing I was going to do was make her learn how to read. Nor was I going to give her a hard time about her proclamations about never learning how. On the contrary, I knew that if she was going to learn how to read, the best thing I could do was just read a lot myself - either to her directly, or for my own pleasure in her vicinity.
Dh and I have always been bibliophiles, and even with all our moves, our homes have been filled with books. It was the natural thing for us to get lots of books for our daughter. One was the set, My First Steps to Reading, which we have since passed on. Each book in the set followed a child who was Little "a" or Little "b" and so on through the alphabet. On the inside covers was an image of all the little letter children in alphabetical order, with a few things near them with names starting with their letters. We'd read these to her, starting out by singing through the alphabet, asking her if she could find the different children (each wore their letter on the front of their shirts), or some other object around them. It was a fun game we had with her.
When Eldest was 5, she was still insisting that she didn't want to learn how to read, but every now and then, I would catch her teaching herself to both read and write. I remember walking into a room and finding her with one of these First Steps books. She was looking at the children in a row on the inside cover, then copying the letters on their shirts on her chalk board. Thankfully, she never noticed me coming into the room, and I immediately backed out. If she had seen me, she would have immediately stopped, and probably wouldn't have tried again for a long time, in the off chance I might walk in unexpectedly. Other times, I would be busy with something or other and she would walk into the room with book, asking me about a specific word. I'd tell her what the word was, she'd thank me and leave. I knew not to try the usual recommended suggestion of asking the child to sound a word out, think it through, etc. If I'd done that, she would have stopped asking for help, and stopped trying to read. She didn't limit herself to children's books, either, and with the exception of some older, more fragile, books, we never restricted her access to any books we had.
By the age of 6, Eldest was fully literate, no longer needing to write out the letters and words to figure them out, and reading well beyond her age level. She was also a voracious reader, diligently working her way through our home library. At age 10, one of her favorite books was a university Sociology textbook we picked up at a garage sale. She rarely needed to ask me how to read a word, or what a word meant. Today, she loves words, and her favorite books include dictionaries, a thesaurus, and Elements of Style.
Youngest is also largely a self taught reader. It took her a bit longer, and she didn't develop an actual love of reading until a year or two ago when, during our weekly library trips, she discovered her love of mythology. She's not the logophile her sister is, but few people are. ;-) Her learning to read was so gradual, I really can't pinpoint any age when she went from being illiterate to literate, nor can I even succinctly explain how she learned to read.
I do, however, remember the day I myself became a reader. We weren't big readers in my own home, though we had many books. My parents didn't have time to sit and read to me, and if they did, it wouldn't have been in English, a language they still are not comfortable reading in. I started school in first grade with absolutely no familial preparation for reading. I remember sitting at my desk holding a book with a line drawing of a young girl. The teacher asked me to read that page. I told her I didn't know how to read. She asked me to say, "Mary."
"Mary," I repeated.
"There," she told me. "You just read that page."
The teacher then continued on with the class, but I remembered looking down at the page in awe. Suddenly, that strange group of lines under the image of a girl was the name, "Mary." Something had clicked in my mind, and it was like a revelation. It wasn't long before I was able to delve into the world of books, and spent much of my school years nose deep into some novel. I actually got into trouble for reading too much, and reading ahead of the class. I didn't care. Once that door in my mind opened, nothing else mattered. Books had become a major part of my world. It saddens me when I think of people who leave school swearing never to read another book again, having been traumatized by being forced to read throughout their school years. Reading, to them, was something painful, and they couldn't wait to get away from doing it. How much better could it have been if, rather than forcing kids to read because it was decided that kids should be reading at specific levels based on their ages, they were allowed to learn to read at their own pace, based on their own initiative and interest.
Sure, they might not all have become bibliophiles, but at least reading wouldn't be something hated, and to be avoided for the rest of their lives!
Sunday, September 06, 2009
What if?
Driving home today, we had the radio on an alternative music station the girls like. This evening, they were doing a show on alternate histories - those pivotal points in history where, had things not happened the way they did, we find ourselves wondering, "What if...? " The most commonly debated versions of these are things like "What if the assassination attempt on Hitler had succeeded?" or "What if the Nazis had won?" Others are things like "What if JFK, Abraham Lincoln, or Mahatma Gandhi weren't assassinated?" What alternate history would we have, if these "what if" moments ended differently.
Eldest had two interesting examples. One was;
What if Crete wasn't destroyed?
Crete was home to the Minoan empire. This was an advanced civilization, with some of their technologies being rediscovered only recently, that flourished 5000 years ago, then suddenly disappeared. There are some that believe that they are the source for the myths of Atlantis. Their technology and culture were highly sophisticated, with such modern conveniences as an elaborate sewerage system and hot and cold running water in homes. Their disappearance is still somewhat of a mystery, with blame being put on such things as a volcano, an earthquake and tsunami, famine, war, or combinations of several of these possibilities. How much different would our world be if the Minoans and their technology were never lost? One suggestion brought up was that the Roman Empire would never have risen to the power it did, being instead a part of the Minoan Empire. The fall of Rome would not have lead to the Medieval Dark Ages, where a great deal of knowledge and technology was lost. Would our modern technological and information age have happened millennia ago, instead of within the last century?
The other question that came up was;
What if the Avro Arrow had not been destroyed?
The Avro Arrow was the most technologically advanced plane of its time. In fact, much of its capabilities were not matched for many years after its destruction; a dark blot on Canadian history. The project was incredibly expensive and, when a new federal government was elected, shutting it down was one of its priorities. Shutting it down wasn't quite enough, though, as the prototypes and plans were also destroyed. Most of the developers ended up working for NASA, helping to put the first man on the moon. There are a number of theories as to why so much effort was made to wipe out these planes entirely.
I believe the destruction of the Arrow was as much a blow to the Canadian psyche as it was to the physical planes and plans. This was a project that brought Canada to the forefront of technology, worldwide. The excitement of this innovation could have spawned a culture of achievement. After its destruction, Canada faltered and fell behind. Personally, I think we have yet to recover from this, with our tendency to downplay our own achievements and look to other countries to emulate, rather than taking the lead ourselves.
One "what if" scenario suggested was that, if the Arrow had not been destroyed, Canada would have been the first to send a man to the moon.
All in all, it's a fascinating philosophical question.
So what is your "what if" scenario? Is there some pivotal point in history you can think of that might have change our world, had things gone another way?
Eldest had two interesting examples. One was;
What if Crete wasn't destroyed?
Crete was home to the Minoan empire. This was an advanced civilization, with some of their technologies being rediscovered only recently, that flourished 5000 years ago, then suddenly disappeared. There are some that believe that they are the source for the myths of Atlantis. Their technology and culture were highly sophisticated, with such modern conveniences as an elaborate sewerage system and hot and cold running water in homes. Their disappearance is still somewhat of a mystery, with blame being put on such things as a volcano, an earthquake and tsunami, famine, war, or combinations of several of these possibilities. How much different would our world be if the Minoans and their technology were never lost? One suggestion brought up was that the Roman Empire would never have risen to the power it did, being instead a part of the Minoan Empire. The fall of Rome would not have lead to the Medieval Dark Ages, where a great deal of knowledge and technology was lost. Would our modern technological and information age have happened millennia ago, instead of within the last century?
The other question that came up was;
What if the Avro Arrow had not been destroyed?
The Avro Arrow was the most technologically advanced plane of its time. In fact, much of its capabilities were not matched for many years after its destruction; a dark blot on Canadian history. The project was incredibly expensive and, when a new federal government was elected, shutting it down was one of its priorities. Shutting it down wasn't quite enough, though, as the prototypes and plans were also destroyed. Most of the developers ended up working for NASA, helping to put the first man on the moon. There are a number of theories as to why so much effort was made to wipe out these planes entirely.
I believe the destruction of the Arrow was as much a blow to the Canadian psyche as it was to the physical planes and plans. This was a project that brought Canada to the forefront of technology, worldwide. The excitement of this innovation could have spawned a culture of achievement. After its destruction, Canada faltered and fell behind. Personally, I think we have yet to recover from this, with our tendency to downplay our own achievements and look to other countries to emulate, rather than taking the lead ourselves.
One "what if" scenario suggested was that, if the Arrow had not been destroyed, Canada would have been the first to send a man to the moon.
All in all, it's a fascinating philosophical question.
So what is your "what if" scenario? Is there some pivotal point in history you can think of that might have change our world, had things gone another way?
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
When did Barbie (TM) become classy?
A couple of days ago, the kids and I were in a department store. Youngest likes dolls, so they soon wandered off to see the newest additions they're bringing in for Christmas. Shortly after, they came back to me and dragged me over in disbelief. There was a new Cher doll out - and it actually looked like Cher! What an amazing concept.
Now, when I was a kid, Barbie (TM) was the epitome of everything wrong with toys for girls. She was unrealistically formed, with gigantic breasts, minuscule waist, and deformed hips (though that, at least, could be blamed on the need to attach the movable legs). Then she had all that sexy clothing. She was also promoting a consumerist lifestyle, with houses and cars and toy boys (Ken's gone now, apparently). The list of all the terrible things Barbie (TM) taught our girls was quite long. Personally, as I kid, I hated dolls. I preferred interlocking bricks (no Lego (TM) back then - am I dating myself?), and cars - or better yet, running around outside and playing with sticks. Did you know that you could make a really neat whip that snapped most satisfyingly with a stick and some bale twine? But dolls? Nope. I sneered at those. They were "girl stuff" and I hated girl stuff, whether in toys, clothes or the behavior expected of me.
My kids are a lot more opened minded about such things than I was. *L* They were as comfortable playing with dolls as they were with their tool kits (they each had their own), play houses or cars. My only restrictions were with make up. No toy make up. That stuff is gross. If they were going to have make up, it would be the same stuff that's sold for grown ups.
So it's been interesting to see how they are responding to the dolls that are available to girls today. Barbie (TM) is now pretty much the most realistic, classy doll available right now! The latest Bratz (TM) dolls and their imitators now dominate the shelves, and the girls find them disgusting. The heads are gigantic and misshapen. The faces look deformed. The bodies make Barbie (TM) look realistic. Then there's the clothes and accessories - talk about skank!! They exude a sexiness that's crude, blatant and disturbing.
With what's on the market right now, I'm happy that Youngest prefers the elegant and beautiful Barbie (TM) and friends over the others that are available now.
Man, have things changed.
Now, when I was a kid, Barbie (TM) was the epitome of everything wrong with toys for girls. She was unrealistically formed, with gigantic breasts, minuscule waist, and deformed hips (though that, at least, could be blamed on the need to attach the movable legs). Then she had all that sexy clothing. She was also promoting a consumerist lifestyle, with houses and cars and toy boys (Ken's gone now, apparently). The list of all the terrible things Barbie (TM) taught our girls was quite long. Personally, as I kid, I hated dolls. I preferred interlocking bricks (no Lego (TM) back then - am I dating myself?), and cars - or better yet, running around outside and playing with sticks. Did you know that you could make a really neat whip that snapped most satisfyingly with a stick and some bale twine? But dolls? Nope. I sneered at those. They were "girl stuff" and I hated girl stuff, whether in toys, clothes or the behavior expected of me.
My kids are a lot more opened minded about such things than I was. *L* They were as comfortable playing with dolls as they were with their tool kits (they each had their own), play houses or cars. My only restrictions were with make up. No toy make up. That stuff is gross. If they were going to have make up, it would be the same stuff that's sold for grown ups.
So it's been interesting to see how they are responding to the dolls that are available to girls today. Barbie (TM) is now pretty much the most realistic, classy doll available right now! The latest Bratz (TM) dolls and their imitators now dominate the shelves, and the girls find them disgusting. The heads are gigantic and misshapen. The faces look deformed. The bodies make Barbie (TM) look realistic. Then there's the clothes and accessories - talk about skank!! They exude a sexiness that's crude, blatant and disturbing.
With what's on the market right now, I'm happy that Youngest prefers the elegant and beautiful Barbie (TM) and friends over the others that are available now.
Man, have things changed.
Monday, September 10, 2007
HUH?!?
I caught this very brief article in one of the Sun media papers...
Cosby announced last week that his animated series, Little Bill, which aims at getting preschoolers interested in learning...
Say what??? Since when are preschoolers NOT interested in learning? I always got the impression that preschoolers are voraciously interested in learning (as anyone who's lived through the "why" phase can attest).
Am I missing something? Have kids ages 4 and under changed while I wasn't looking?
I don't get it.
Cosby announced last week that his animated series, Little Bill, which aims at getting preschoolers interested in learning...
Say what??? Since when are preschoolers NOT interested in learning? I always got the impression that preschoolers are voraciously interested in learning (as anyone who's lived through the "why" phase can attest).
Am I missing something? Have kids ages 4 and under changed while I wasn't looking?
I don't get it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)