Some of you may have seen the article in last week's paper. if not I'll include a link. A couple parents were objecting to their eighth grade students reading stories by Shirley Jackson (The Lottory), Jack London (we all know him right? To Build a Fire; Call of the Wild; White Fang...) Poe (please tell me you know him!), and Stephen King (again... Carrie; It;....)
They also objected tehre was a countdown in the class room referring to when the HungerGames movie was coming out. the parents objected to the whole books and movie about kids killing kids...and likened it to Columbine, intimating that this material might cause another Columbine-esque incident.
Here is the Link
http://wcexaminer.com/index.php/archives/news/28504
I was incensed. So I wrote a letter to the editor.. (it was too long.. and upon learning other information I asked that it not be edited and published.) But I am including it here...
I cannot verbalize how upsetting this article is to me, as a teacher, as
someone who has multiple degrees in the humanities, as a writer.....
This
objection is outrageous.
I read those books. I read
Jackson, Poe, and London. I continue to read
those authors. I was
reading Poe when I was younger than eighth grade. I
have not become a
mass killer. I did not shoot up my high school, nor was I
traumatized by
this reading material. Rather it deepened my love of
literature, and I
discovered different genres that I adore.
Did any of you become
mass murderers from reading these stories? Did any
student become a
witch or wizard after reading Harry Potter? Did anyone
receive
telekinetic gifts, and reap revenge against their entire senior
class
after their prom? No? Anyone? (I suspect it takes more than just
reading
Shirley Jackson, Stephen King, or Suzanne Collins to create a mass
murderer.)
If you disagree with the reading material, read it
with your child, and
discuss it. Open the lines of communication between
your student and
yourself. Allow the child to make an educated decision
rather than all out
forbidding it from their sight. Discuss why what you
see in the text is
inappropriate. Talk to them about the differences
between the book and real
life. Talk to them and see why they like or
don't like the book or reading
material. Listen to the
student.
If you think a child of eighth grade age is unable to
make that decision, be
aware of what your child is watching. How many
scenes of violence will they
see on tv or in films? How many movies do
the good guys kill the bad guys?
How many tv shows geared towards the
tween and teen set, have sexual
innuendos, or more? Even Disney's
Phineas and Ferb shows violence. By eighth
grade students are likely to
have been exposed to drugs, alcohol, and
sexuality. They are already
making these decisions.
What of the Twilight series that was
gobbled up by so many, that had a
graphic birth scene, a headboard
breaking sex scene, attempted suicides...?
What of Lord of the Flies
(kids killing kids)? Romeo and Juliet (sex
between minors, drugs,
blatant disobedience to parents, dirty jokes, and a
double
suicide?)
These authors are expected in college and are
considered classics for a
reason. (When I was in graduate school,
Pulitzer Prize Nominated author E.L.
Doctorow spent a good amount of our
fifteen weeks studying Edgar Allan Poe,
as one of the best examples of
the short story. These are the authors
acknowledged and admired by other
writers.)
By not teaching Poe, Jackson or London, our students
are being set behind
other students as they approach college. But they
also are behind, because
these authors are such a part of our collective
culture. It'd be doing them
a disservice to not teach our students these
authors.
No, you will not please everyone. But do we not teach
WW2 because of the
atrocities that happened there? Do we not teach the
Civil Rights Movement
because of the murders, where ACTUAL people killed
ACTUAL children (Hello,
Emmit Till)? No. Students are expected to know
and understand these things.
Why is literature any different?
To remove these authors from the curriculum, to not be aware of a series
that has gotten children reading and kept them reading, and to not stoke
that excitement, as a reading arts teacher would be foolish. (Have the
parents who objected to the Hunger Games countdown, actually READ the
Hunger
Games?)
To rephrase a question: Did anyone become
Anne Frank, hiding in the Secret
Annex during WW2? Could we tap into her
fears, her thrills, her realizations
at thirteen years old? Did anyone
find themselves with Huck Finn as he and
Jim ran away on the river, both
escaping? Or did anyone find themselves on
the trail with Sherlock
Holmes, piecing together the mystery, and still able
to beat the bad
guy, rarely with the use of a gun, showing the strength of
brains over
brawn? (Yet we also realized that Holmes was incredibly flawed,
and
occasionally wrong, just like us.)
Truth be told, ALL good
literature is dangerous. All good literature makes
you think
differently, makes you see things in a way you hadn't. It adds to
us,
and helps develop as people.
Open your minds, and open the
books.
~
But then in speaking to my friend who is a teacher, and who knew more than what the article said, or what they knew, I learned that while Poe, Jackson, King, and London are the highlighted authors, the class was also reading other authors Ayn Rand (are 8th graders ever really ready to handle Ayn Rand? Much less a piece that describes a character losing her virginity and how great the sex was?)
It looks like there were fine pieces, standard pieces, and then there were indeed inappropriate, and just poor decisions... What the article does not say was that while it looks like the class was just counting down until the Hunger Games came out in film, they went and saw it as a class, after having read it togetehr as a class. (I am not necessarily objectuinig to that, I am pointing out that there is information not given in the article that may change the light of things.. or it may not.)
So my question I have here is this:
What makes a book or a short story appropriate for the students? while I do not disagree with reading Poe, London, Shirley Jackson, or Stephen King (depending on the piece)... what makes a piece right or wrong? What is the appropriateness factor? what are the guidelines? How do we handle this? Do we send out papers to all the parents saying these are the pieces your children are slated to read, if you do not like it, please discuss with your child an appropriate alternative? do we give the parents fair warning? Do we make the curriculum subject to change per the parents decision? (but then shouldn't those parents who object so heartily to what their children are reading and lerning simply take their kids out and charter school them, or homeschool them?) or do we just allow book banning to happen in our own area?
My other question I still have is this: If we teach World War 2, and all its atrocities in an age approrpiate manner, then why is there more wiggle room and objection room for against teachers when it comes to literature?
My mother did not want me to read Lord of the Flies when it was done in school. She thought it was a terrible book. You know what? I loved it. I still love that book. She didn't forbid me from reading it. She and I talked about books frequently (she was a librarian after all), and I knew that if I didn't want to read a book I could propose another one to my teacher. I never did that. Rather I typically read above my class level.
I am grateful that she let me read, and make my own decisions. I am grateful she also taught me the standards by which to judge a good book.
In the LDS church there are thirteen snippets that summarize the faith, written by Jospeh Smith Jr, after he got asked for umpteenth time to summarize the church's beliefs. These are called the Articles of Faith.
The thirteenth article of faith is the longest but it also the one that is most applicable to every day life I think.. and it's what I try to use when I judge a book, or film, or music, or even tv shows..
"We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous,
and in
doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow
the admonition of
Paul - We believe all things, we hope all things,
we have endured many
things, and hope to be able to endure all
things. If there is anything
virtuous, lovely, or of good report or
praiseworthy, we seek after these
things."
Reading is a highly personal experience. We each bring our own backgrounds, our own feelngs, and our own interpertations to the table each time we read. And we do it EACH time we read, even the same book, can be colored differently in multiple readings. Some may read into the text, hunting for symbolism, interpertations, while others may not.
Sometimes blue curtains, are just BLUE Curtains. (go google it)
so what do we do folks? What do you think?
It started suddenly. Without warning.
Last spring, Julie Johnstone, a librarian at the Scottish Poetry Library in Edinburgh, was wandering through a reading room when she saw, sitting alone on a random table, a little tree.
It was made of twisted paper and was mounted on a book.
Gorgeously crafted, it came with a gold-leafed eggshell broken in two, each half filled with little strips of paper with phrases on them. When reassembled properly, the strips became a poem about birds, "A Trace of Wings" by Edwin Morgan.
What was this?
"This is for you in support of libraries, books, words, ideas..." said a note, addressed to the Library by its twitter name "@ByLeavesWeLive". There was no artist signature, no one to thank. The staff, totally nonplussed, asked on their blog if anybody knew who made it. They described the gift as a "poetree" and waited. Nobody claimed authorship.
Then, it happened again
This time, a coffin, topped by a large gramophone showed up suddenly at The National Library of Scotland. The scene was carved from a book, a mystery novel by Ian Rankin, one of Britain's bestselling crime writers. It seemed like a visual pun, because the book's title was Exit Music.
Chris Scott/flickr
Once again, a note said, "A gift in support of libraries, books, words, ideas...(& against their exit)."
Next came a movie theater, one of Edinburgh's local art film houses. It got, out of nowhere, a book carved so that a bunch of warriors seemed to be leaping (or in some cases galloping) off a movie screen straight into a startled audience. One of the audience members, if you looked closely, was wearing a tiny photo of the face of mystery writer Ian Rankin. The mystery deepened.
Was this Rankin's doing? His Scottish detective character, named Rebus, has been adapted for television. Perhaps the TV people were trying to gin up some publicity? A new form of viral marketing, maybe? No, said Rankin. He told the Edinburgh papers he had no idea who made these little books and he had nothing to do with it.
Next (and by now we've moved from spring into summer) somebody found a little dragon peeking out of an egg in a windowsill at The Scottish Storytelling Centre. This dragon was carved, once again, from an Ian Rankin mystery and came with the same anonymous tag:
A gift in support of libraries, books, works, ideas... Once upon a time there was a book and in the book was a nest and in the nest was an egg and in the egg was a dragon and in the dragon was a story...
Then, the pace quickened. On a single day in August, two new sculptures showed up at the Edinburgh International Book festival, one at the Bookshop, the other at something called the UNESCO Edinburgh City of Literature. Whoever brought them in, got out unnoticed.
By this fall, these mysterious sculptures had become a hot story. Reporters checked the newest teacup and cupcake, then the little fellow hiding in a forest for some sign of authorship, and once again found a connection to mystery writer Ian Rankin. The hiding man was nestled in a book Rankin had publicly admired.
Mr. Rankin came to the festival, checked out the new sculpture. Here he is, trying to look innocent. The thing is: he probably is innocent.
Chris Scott/flickr
Because within a week or two, another sculpture, this one a large magnifying glass, something Sherlock Holmes might have used but in paper form, appeared at the Central Lending Library. It was balanced precariously on a book.
This sculpture had no known connection to Mr. Rankin, but it did quote from poet Edward Morgan — whose poem inspired the first sculpture. Hmmm. First Morgan, then Rankin, then Morgan again — who is the real perpetrator, asked the BBC, Scotland TV, The Guardian. And what is he? She? They? trying to tell us? Everyone wanted to know.
Just as the news cycle was about to hit boil, The Edinburgh Evening News announced it had cracked the case. It turns out, they said, their own former music librarian, a Mr. Garry Gale, had figured it out. Mr. Gale said when he saw the sculptures he realized they looked exactly like a paper sculpture he had bought a year or so earlier from a certain artist that he didn't name, but the styles were so unerringly similar it had to be the same artist who was dropping these little gifts on major cultural centers in Edinburgh.
Who Did It?
So, OK! Now we find out who did it.
Well, this is where my reporting either falls short or I bump into the respectful quiet that is Edinburgh culture. Instead of having Mr. Gale immediately identify the perpetrator, the Evening News decided to take a poll: Do you really want to know, it asked its readers, who made these gorgeous teacups and dragons and magnifying glasses, or would you rather honor the artist, and let him/her remain anonymous?
Can you even imagine such a thing in America? Can you imagine People magazine or the New York Daily News saying "Shall we protect this shy fellow's privacy?" Shall we honor his modesty?
The readers wrote in. And according to Central Station, a Scottish website, "the general view is that We Don't Want To Know." Presumably a significant number of respondents said they would rather not learn the identity of the sculptor and it would be best if those who know just not tell.
Has the paper published the perpetrator's name?
It hasn't. At least, I can't find any mention on their site. I found possible culprits mentioned, but no authoritative story. Several pages, it seems, have been un-cached and can't be read. Unbelievably (to me) that's how the story ends.
(P.S.: If you are reading this in Scotland and you know who the artist is, and want to whisper it to us on this distant continent, far across the vast Atlantic, I'm not going to tell you not to. Instead I'm going to tell you to whisper it in the comment section where we can all scroll through and find it and not mention it to each other. While not the most morally admirable of stances, this will give my story a satisfactory conclusion with the minimum of world-wide exposure.
We are a small blog. We are visited by discrete, polite readers who hardly ever get excited, unless the subject is Tea Party politics, global warming, or Sylvia Poggioli. We probably won't recognize the name; we'll forget it the moment you say it, but it's just not knowing is hard for us. What I'm saying is, if you choose to share, your secret is, well, semi-safe with us.)
