Cause and Effect
I’ve been teaching writing structures coupled with graphic organizers for the past week. Do those phrases mean anything to you at all? Though it all sounds rather esoteric it’s really pretty basic stuff that helps students how to comprehend what they’re reading. Our students insist that they read just fine but ask them a question about what they’ve just read and they come up blank. Imagine yourself tackling a scientific abstract, decoding the words but not having a clue as to what you’ve just read. That’s the experience that many adult readers have when they read anything outside of their comfort zone like a soap-opera reality novel, or tabloid. I also have students who insist that, “I can read the Bible just fine, so why can’t I understand the class assignments?”
That’s when I try to explain that they’ve read the Bible so many times they’ve practically memorized it. It’s familiar and so poses no challenge, whereas the novel that I have just plunked in their laps is alien territory. I’ve heard students mutter under their breath that the book I’ve just given them is garbage—“This crap makes no sense whatever!” The only way that I can get them to continue is to tell them that this is the crap that they are going to see on the GED exam so they are going to have to learn to understand it somehow. That’s when the panic sets in. They can’t understand how, this language that they’ve been speaking all their lives, could betray them so completely.
That’s where the comprehension tools come into the picture. I explain to them that it’s easier to learn something new when they already know something about the topic, but when they know nothing about the topic it’s harder. I introduce them to strategies like questioning, summarizing, scanning, text marking—a veritable fount of organizing tools. I tell them that in the beginning it’s clumsy and awkward but if they practice enough, they’ll eventually do it automatically with any text that they encounter. That’s when I get the, this-woman-is-out-of-her-mind look.
We spent weeks on summarizing—recognizing the main thesis and important points, paragraph by paragraph, then graphing it on an organizer that was divided into columns with appropriate headings. We summarized movie plots, television shows, our days, even our lives, trying to come up with the bare bones of any story. We talked about details and where they belong or don’t belong, we read paragraphs about hypnosis, stunt people, diamonds and fashion. At one point I thought that if I drew one more “About/Point” (summarizing) or “K-W-L” chart (I already know, I want to know, I learned) I would spit up.
But then we read a Langston Hughes story and amazingly, when I asked questions at the end, they knew the answers. I was in shock.
“You did it!” I yelled. You understood exactly what he wanted you to understand! I’m so proud of you!”
Luckily class was over because to teach anything after that would have been anticlimactic. I didn’t even want to analyze for myself why this time had been successful: If the story level was easier, if they had had a goodnight’s sleep, if the moon was in the seventh house and Mercury aligned with Mars, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.
Then we began to practice writing GED essays. I began with the usual: Thesis statement, supporting details, concluding paragraph using yet another organizer when Jamie called out, “Oh you mean the hamburger!” Even for Jamie that was an unusual statement to throw out in the middle of class.
“Okay, you’re going to have to explain that,” I told her.
“You know, you draw a hamburger with the top bun, the middle stuff then the bottom bun and you name them, introduction, conclusion, stuff like that.”
I loved it. So I drew the top introduction bun, then moved on to the lettuce, tomato, and cheese supporting statements and finished off with the conclusion bottom bun. They kept telling me that I was leaving out the pickles, ketchup, mayo and mustard, I answered that I was now officially starving and in the end we had our own graphic organizer.
And then one of those once-in-a-blue-moon teaching moments happened when they realized that all the summaries that they had practiced, all the stories they had read, all the organizers that they had drawn were helping them create their own burgers.
“So it’s kind of like what we’ve been reading only we’re writing it now,” Ani said. “So it’s connected.”
“Yes, God yes!” I told her.
I wanted to take that moment and store it gently in a jar to take down on the days when it all goes wrong and I’m ready to give up. Usually I’m the one connecting the dots for them, trying to make them see how it’s all of a piece. But now, for the first time, they did it themselves.
On Friday they went off to take a practice GED test sponsored by Roxbury Junior College. The stakes were high because if they did well they would receive a scholarship for a free GED test. If they did well it meant they had a chance at passing this pernicious test and getting on and up with their lives. If they did well it meant, that for the first time, they really were making those connections. I’m saying a little prayer.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Guilting the Lily
Guilting the Lilly
Ah, guilt. The bottomless well that never dries out. We give it, we get it, sometimes we ask for it when we do really stupid things. But the worst, the very worst, is the guilt that we give ourselves courtesy of the “should” voices in our heads. The, you-should-be-doing-this or inversely “you-shouldn’t-have-done-that.”
Years ago I participated in a mom’s group to convince myself that my new-mom fears were normal. It seemed to me that someone in my family was always being short changed because of our new baby. Either the house wasn’t clean enough or the laundry wasn’t done enough, the meals weren’t gourmet enough or the romantic life with my husband was definitely not romantic enough, especially since I tended to fall asleep in the middle of dinner.
I listened to our facilitator tell us that women were forever “making nice” to everyone but themselves. “We’re always making sure that everyone is happy but when was the last time you made sure that you were happy?” I remember thinking that she was nuts. I only had a few hours everyday to do everything so why would I ever waste that time on me? The very idea made me uncomfortable. And after all these years I’m still not completely comfortable with the concept. Guilt keeps me nicely in line.
You would think that by now women would have learned not to let guilt run roughshod over them, but if anything it’s getting worse. According to Francie LaTour’s article, The Bad Mother Complex in the March 13 issue of the Boston Globe,
……..a mommy blogger can make an entire career trafficking in guilt, wearing her failures like badges of honor: “I let my infant watch five hours of TV!” “My toddler dunked his head in the toilet!” Whether you’re a blue-suit executive, a bank teller, or Dr. Phil, we all know about family, work, conflict, and guilt.
Years ago I was deliriously happy working as a computer programmer at a small engineering company. The job made me feel like I had died and gone to heaven. Unlike my former teaching gig, there was no showing up at 7:00, no twenty minute lunches, no cafeteria duty, and no endless take home work. I had a whole hour for lunch, dealt only with fairly rational adults, and best of all, I left my work at work. When I was home I wasn’t marking papers and preparing brilliant lesson plans. The lines were definite and distinct—work was work and home was home and never the twain did meet. As a result I was sane, relaxed and guilt free.
But when Lisa was born it all changed. I had been given a very generous six months leave and then I could return part-time for six months. It sounded very reasonable at the time. That was before two things happened: New mommy guilt and very few available day care slots. Every day brought new opportunities for guilt even while at home full time with my baby. Later on when I began searching for daycare, it body-slammed me. Even if the place was clean and staffed with loving caregivers, it was not good enough for my princess.
I ended up becoming a stay-at-home-mom for many years but even then I dealt with a level of am-I-a-good-enough-mom? guilt. But when I began to work part time I faced the real stuff. In LaTour’s article she cited a study done by researchers at the University of Toronto. It threw new light on:
the guilt question by quantifying the emotions we experience as work and family boundaries become increasingly blurred and measuring the effect those emotions have on our psychological well-being.
In this study, published in this month’s issue of the Journal of Health and Social Behavior, about 1,800 American workers were asked how often they were contacted outside the workplace by phone, e-mail, or text about work-related matters. According to the findings, frequent contact by bosses, co-workers, or clients led to increased feelings of guilt — but only among women.
The guilt had nothing to do with women’s actual ability to navigate competing obligations at work and at home; on the contrary, the study found that logistically, women were able to juggle the two spheres just as well as men. It’s how women felt about themselves while doing that juggling that set them apart.
We women can handle the work load it’s the guilt load we can’t manage. We’re always making nice and taking care of everyone but us.
Both my girls are now grown and independent. You would think that I would be guilt free. You would think wrong. I still feel awful if I have to work when Lisa or Mariel want to spend time with me. I’m still the horrible mother who can’t do enough. Added to that is a new frustration that whispers in my ear, “You should have gone back to work earlier so that the family’s finances would be more secure and you could be helping your kids more!” That was finally laid to rest last week when Mariel confided that amongst all her friends, she was the only one who was brought up in a happy family. This time she was the one bugged by the guilt monster whenever she told her friends that she loved spending time with her parents.
Guilt--no matter which road women choose it’s there. The gift that keeps on giving. It’s time we wrapped it up and labeled it, return to sender.
Ah, guilt. The bottomless well that never dries out. We give it, we get it, sometimes we ask for it when we do really stupid things. But the worst, the very worst, is the guilt that we give ourselves courtesy of the “should” voices in our heads. The, you-should-be-doing-this or inversely “you-shouldn’t-have-done-that.”
Years ago I participated in a mom’s group to convince myself that my new-mom fears were normal. It seemed to me that someone in my family was always being short changed because of our new baby. Either the house wasn’t clean enough or the laundry wasn’t done enough, the meals weren’t gourmet enough or the romantic life with my husband was definitely not romantic enough, especially since I tended to fall asleep in the middle of dinner.
I listened to our facilitator tell us that women were forever “making nice” to everyone but themselves. “We’re always making sure that everyone is happy but when was the last time you made sure that you were happy?” I remember thinking that she was nuts. I only had a few hours everyday to do everything so why would I ever waste that time on me? The very idea made me uncomfortable. And after all these years I’m still not completely comfortable with the concept. Guilt keeps me nicely in line.
You would think that by now women would have learned not to let guilt run roughshod over them, but if anything it’s getting worse. According to Francie LaTour’s article, The Bad Mother Complex in the March 13 issue of the Boston Globe,
……..a mommy blogger can make an entire career trafficking in guilt, wearing her failures like badges of honor: “I let my infant watch five hours of TV!” “My toddler dunked his head in the toilet!” Whether you’re a blue-suit executive, a bank teller, or Dr. Phil, we all know about family, work, conflict, and guilt.
Years ago I was deliriously happy working as a computer programmer at a small engineering company. The job made me feel like I had died and gone to heaven. Unlike my former teaching gig, there was no showing up at 7:00, no twenty minute lunches, no cafeteria duty, and no endless take home work. I had a whole hour for lunch, dealt only with fairly rational adults, and best of all, I left my work at work. When I was home I wasn’t marking papers and preparing brilliant lesson plans. The lines were definite and distinct—work was work and home was home and never the twain did meet. As a result I was sane, relaxed and guilt free.
But when Lisa was born it all changed. I had been given a very generous six months leave and then I could return part-time for six months. It sounded very reasonable at the time. That was before two things happened: New mommy guilt and very few available day care slots. Every day brought new opportunities for guilt even while at home full time with my baby. Later on when I began searching for daycare, it body-slammed me. Even if the place was clean and staffed with loving caregivers, it was not good enough for my princess.
I ended up becoming a stay-at-home-mom for many years but even then I dealt with a level of am-I-a-good-enough-mom? guilt. But when I began to work part time I faced the real stuff. In LaTour’s article she cited a study done by researchers at the University of Toronto. It threw new light on:
the guilt question by quantifying the emotions we experience as work and family boundaries become increasingly blurred and measuring the effect those emotions have on our psychological well-being.
In this study, published in this month’s issue of the Journal of Health and Social Behavior, about 1,800 American workers were asked how often they were contacted outside the workplace by phone, e-mail, or text about work-related matters. According to the findings, frequent contact by bosses, co-workers, or clients led to increased feelings of guilt — but only among women.
The guilt had nothing to do with women’s actual ability to navigate competing obligations at work and at home; on the contrary, the study found that logistically, women were able to juggle the two spheres just as well as men. It’s how women felt about themselves while doing that juggling that set them apart.
We women can handle the work load it’s the guilt load we can’t manage. We’re always making nice and taking care of everyone but us.
Both my girls are now grown and independent. You would think that I would be guilt free. You would think wrong. I still feel awful if I have to work when Lisa or Mariel want to spend time with me. I’m still the horrible mother who can’t do enough. Added to that is a new frustration that whispers in my ear, “You should have gone back to work earlier so that the family’s finances would be more secure and you could be helping your kids more!” That was finally laid to rest last week when Mariel confided that amongst all her friends, she was the only one who was brought up in a happy family. This time she was the one bugged by the guilt monster whenever she told her friends that she loved spending time with her parents.
Guilt--no matter which road women choose it’s there. The gift that keeps on giving. It’s time we wrapped it up and labeled it, return to sender.
Passover in a Box
Passover In A Box
I’ve seen Passover for Dummies and how-to books on how to approach the Passover holiday. But this is the first time I’ve ever seen a seder- in-a-box. According to Lisa Wangsness’ Boston Globe article on Tuesday, March 29, JewishBoston.com is offering its first do it yourself seder kit to Boston residents this month. (A seder is the festive Passover meal where everyone tells the story of the Israelite’s exodus from Egypt.)
“Seder-in-a-Box’’ includes just about everything but the food and the guests: a Seder plate, a basic Haggadah, a leader’s guide, recipes, a shopping list, instructions for setting the table, and a matzo cover. Oh, and some green plastic frogs, representing one of the 10 plagues.”
“We wanted to take the guesswork out of it for people who have never done it before,’’ said David Levy, the editor of JewishBoston.com.”
At first Levy said the website’s advisory board of people in their 20s and 30s debated whether to host a big Seder for their peers in the Boston area. They wound up deciding it would be better to help people learn to do it themselves.
“There’s not the pressure of what someone else thinks a Passover Seder should be,’’ Levy said.
I hate to say it but I agree with Levy about Passover pressure. I’ve experienced two kinds. The first occurs when you invite non-Jewish friends to your seder. You want them to have fun and enjoy themselves yet learn something of your heritage without coming off as a total nut-job who throws green plastic frogs around or wears sunglasses to represent the plague of darkness, things I am not ashamed to say, our family has done in the past and continues to do to our great enjoyment!
The second kind is when you invite your parents over when all they have experienced is a traditional seder and there you are with those green frogs again. Oy! It’s enough to make a woman give up. And just imagine what would happen if you invited both to your seder at the same time.
There you are, desperate for everyone to understand what is going on, so you read your Haggadah (the book of the Exodus story) in English to the disapproving glare of your more traditional guests who want to know why the Hebrew has disappeared from Passover. And because you remember how you used to fall asleep during parts of the seder, you skip certain parts, even as your traditional guests want to follow the dictum of reading every word. Ever heard of a rock and a hard place? Here you’re between a matzoh ball and a brisket.
Then there’s the issue of the wine. According to tradition the only permissible wine is Manischewitz Concord Grape, a wine so sweet that you could feed it to a hummingbird. Manischewitz is part of our seder, I can’t imagine not pursing my lips at that first incredibly sweet sip, but we also serve other wines for those who prefer their libations a bit more tart.
But back to our box seder. Who would use such a thing?
Wangsness writes, Sara Greene and her husband are hosting a Passover Seder for the first time at their home next month.
She is writing her dissertation, he is a medical resident, they are the parents of a 7-month-old infant, and the holiday begins on a weeknight. When she saw the link on a friend’s Facebook page, she did not hesitate: She ordered a “Seder in a Box.’’
“We’re having all these people over, and I haven’t done it before,’’ she said. “The Seder plate has a lot of things on it. You have to kind of remember to get all the different aspects of it.’’
Yes indeed that seder plate has so many things on it--six in fact. But the things that it needs to hold are written on the plate itself. Surely a medical resident and a PhD candidate can figure it out. And it’s not as if the plate requires eye-of-newt and toe-of-frog (there go the frogs again, we’ve got a theme going here) it’s basically simple around-the-house-stuff like salt water, parsley and an egg. How difficult can that be?
However our family puts one item on our seder plate that would make a traditionalist shudder—an orange. The reason for its presence is an article that I read years ago, which stated that women were adding oranges to their seder plates to challenge an old dictum of the rabbis that a woman leading a seder is like an orange on a seder plate—she doesn’t belong. That orange is my bit of rebellion. Then again we’ve been doing it for so long that it has become a tradition in our family.
Part of me understands when Rabbi Michele Lenke of Temple Beth Shalom relates that she had someone in her office who had never hosted a Seder and was fretting about how to do it properly, “People have so many memories of different Seders, and I think they so desperately want to do it right,’’ she said.
But what they don’t understand is that though the Haggadah gives us the script for the “right” seder, the important part of the celebration is the group of people that is sitting around the table, retelling the Passover story, passing on old traditions and starting new ones. And most of all, celebrating not only freedom and rebirth, but family and friendship.
I’ve seen Passover for Dummies and how-to books on how to approach the Passover holiday. But this is the first time I’ve ever seen a seder- in-a-box. According to Lisa Wangsness’ Boston Globe article on Tuesday, March 29, JewishBoston.com is offering its first do it yourself seder kit to Boston residents this month. (A seder is the festive Passover meal where everyone tells the story of the Israelite’s exodus from Egypt.)
“Seder-in-a-Box’’ includes just about everything but the food and the guests: a Seder plate, a basic Haggadah, a leader’s guide, recipes, a shopping list, instructions for setting the table, and a matzo cover. Oh, and some green plastic frogs, representing one of the 10 plagues.”
“We wanted to take the guesswork out of it for people who have never done it before,’’ said David Levy, the editor of JewishBoston.com.”
At first Levy said the website’s advisory board of people in their 20s and 30s debated whether to host a big Seder for their peers in the Boston area. They wound up deciding it would be better to help people learn to do it themselves.
“There’s not the pressure of what someone else thinks a Passover Seder should be,’’ Levy said.
I hate to say it but I agree with Levy about Passover pressure. I’ve experienced two kinds. The first occurs when you invite non-Jewish friends to your seder. You want them to have fun and enjoy themselves yet learn something of your heritage without coming off as a total nut-job who throws green plastic frogs around or wears sunglasses to represent the plague of darkness, things I am not ashamed to say, our family has done in the past and continues to do to our great enjoyment!
The second kind is when you invite your parents over when all they have experienced is a traditional seder and there you are with those green frogs again. Oy! It’s enough to make a woman give up. And just imagine what would happen if you invited both to your seder at the same time.
There you are, desperate for everyone to understand what is going on, so you read your Haggadah (the book of the Exodus story) in English to the disapproving glare of your more traditional guests who want to know why the Hebrew has disappeared from Passover. And because you remember how you used to fall asleep during parts of the seder, you skip certain parts, even as your traditional guests want to follow the dictum of reading every word. Ever heard of a rock and a hard place? Here you’re between a matzoh ball and a brisket.
Then there’s the issue of the wine. According to tradition the only permissible wine is Manischewitz Concord Grape, a wine so sweet that you could feed it to a hummingbird. Manischewitz is part of our seder, I can’t imagine not pursing my lips at that first incredibly sweet sip, but we also serve other wines for those who prefer their libations a bit more tart.
But back to our box seder. Who would use such a thing?
Wangsness writes, Sara Greene and her husband are hosting a Passover Seder for the first time at their home next month.
She is writing her dissertation, he is a medical resident, they are the parents of a 7-month-old infant, and the holiday begins on a weeknight. When she saw the link on a friend’s Facebook page, she did not hesitate: She ordered a “Seder in a Box.’’
“We’re having all these people over, and I haven’t done it before,’’ she said. “The Seder plate has a lot of things on it. You have to kind of remember to get all the different aspects of it.’’
Yes indeed that seder plate has so many things on it--six in fact. But the things that it needs to hold are written on the plate itself. Surely a medical resident and a PhD candidate can figure it out. And it’s not as if the plate requires eye-of-newt and toe-of-frog (there go the frogs again, we’ve got a theme going here) it’s basically simple around-the-house-stuff like salt water, parsley and an egg. How difficult can that be?
However our family puts one item on our seder plate that would make a traditionalist shudder—an orange. The reason for its presence is an article that I read years ago, which stated that women were adding oranges to their seder plates to challenge an old dictum of the rabbis that a woman leading a seder is like an orange on a seder plate—she doesn’t belong. That orange is my bit of rebellion. Then again we’ve been doing it for so long that it has become a tradition in our family.
Part of me understands when Rabbi Michele Lenke of Temple Beth Shalom relates that she had someone in her office who had never hosted a Seder and was fretting about how to do it properly, “People have so many memories of different Seders, and I think they so desperately want to do it right,’’ she said.
But what they don’t understand is that though the Haggadah gives us the script for the “right” seder, the important part of the celebration is the group of people that is sitting around the table, retelling the Passover story, passing on old traditions and starting new ones. And most of all, celebrating not only freedom and rebirth, but family and friendship.
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