Mosaic Meme

H/T Melanie


Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. Favorite food?
3. Where did you go to high school?
4. Favorite color?
5. Celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you?
12. Hobby?

Directions:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions above into Flickr Search. b. Using only the first page, pick an image. c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker. d. Save image to hard drive and post to blogger. e. Copy HTML code for flickr photo credits and paste at the bottom of the post.

Credits:
1. Title Omitted, 2. Paella a la Valenciana, 3. Nightfall Over Riverdale, 4. The closed window, 5. The Dornoch Firth, 6. Orange Wine, 7. Rossbeigh Strand (HDR Test #1), 8. drinking chocolate, monochrome, 9. 3 marias, 10. The Avenue in mist and sun, 11. Questions/story of my wild river to my ego! (4), 12. chair I love...with pillow I sewed

My Comments:
I looooooove this meme! The resulting images bear very little resemblance to my actual answers, but the fact that I chose them all from the resulting images on Flickr means that the whole thing bears my stamp--in this case, a kind of starkness. I want to do another one with alternate answers. . .

Like this!



1. Church and lace, 2. Pinocchio's Pizza farm, 3. Jefferson Parish & Orleans Parish, 4. Mangosteen, 5. Red Rex Protea flower bud, 6. Offering to the Gods (who must be crazy!), 7. Disney's Magic Kingdom Fireworks, 8. butterfly napoleon, 9. Beautiful & calm, 10. Call of the Raven (formerly Nature's Special Effects), 11. Irrationalities Dark Night..., 12. Sewing Children's Clothing, 1953

A different side of me?

Teaching The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen, and other things. . .

If you haven't read the original, you can read it here. I assigned an essay on "The Moral Simplification of Disney's 'The Little Mermaid,'" and had them read the original text. I don't think any of them had read it before.

My first surprise was when it was argued that the Disney version was better by virtue of its simplicity because without the immortality of the soul as a subtext, it would be more accessible to those who were atheist or agnostic, and so did not wish for their children to be exposed to difficult questions that would then require explanation. Also, the replay value of a text with such an unhappy ending--one that instructed rather than amusing--was called into question. This rather put a damper on the prospect of discussing Andersen's text on its own terms, but then, with such a popular version as a comparison, I guess the original was at a disadvantage. The essay argued that the happy ending does rather a disservice to the reader, creating expectations that wishes will always be fulfilled, and attributing misfortune to the will of a single malevolent force. We wound up discussing the issue of representation of parental authority, and why parents feel threatened when fictional characters disobey (and get away with it)--not an issue in the original. Another point was that it contains more relevant topics--like not to talk to strangers--than the immortality of the soul. I tried to compare the complexity of the two issues. Even if you're not interested in the immortality of the soul, you can still concede that the question is more complex, no? The issue of why the mermaid could not achieve both a soul and true love was raised--the dichotomy was seen as a false one.

I admit that I felt a bit at a disadvantage because the Andersen text was being charged with not being politically or socially relevant. Maybe that's why it was excluded from the anthology!! But then, I think it's a problem when the expectation is that the world should be fair, and fiction is expected either to create a safehaven where the world looks fair, or becomes more fair (just), or acknowledges its unfairness in a way that places blame or suggests a remedy. I never had a problem with the notion that toils and suffering could be fruitless, even as a child--except that her toils were not fruitless, as she was granted the opportunity to gain for herself an immortal soul. But if that consideration is alien to your worldview, it's rather difficult to entertain that as a concrete gain. So how to discuss texts with a Christian subtext in a secular university context?

I was particularly interested in the nature of love and the representation of marriage. Observe this passage:

“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”

In this characterization of marriage, we approximate the Catholic concept of a Sacramental Marriage, I think. At least, that would be a productive way to discuss a marriage that is so bound in the Judeo-Christian notion of the soul. The Biblical imagery--or analogy--is obvious: as Adam leant his rib to make Eve, so the husband of the mermaid (who is not human, and so is not the same as a human wife would be) lends part of his soul so that she might partake with him of Eternity. Pretty profound, actually. I managed to tease out the Adam & Eve reference, but had to quickly abandon the topic (which I did not introduce in the terms described above, though I would have liked to be teaching in a context that would have allowed for that kind of discussion). Now, even wanting to talk about the story in this way is new for me, much less having the context to do so, so I did not embark on an attempt to have the students define Sacramental Marriage through the story or evoke Catholic teaching. No waaaaay I'm THAT naïve! But still, I couldn't help wondering where that kind of discussion would lead. I planted the Adam & Eve seed, though. I didn't ask why there were all of those priests & incense & ritual in this Protestant, Danish text, but I wondered to myself. . .

In order to have something to discuss, I did ask what a feminist perspective might be, but that was too easy, really. She is dehumanized--being non-human in the first place doesn't really matter, or rather, it does because the female protagonist is alienated from the patriarchal world from the very nature of her being (or non-being)--and depends on finding a husband for her very soul. Her identity depends on him. Now, the Disney version does not really vary from this--rather, it validates that Ariel's existence depends on the prince. We learn that that's O.K. I'm not happy with seeing the Andersen version as negative in this way, and I don't think Disney's rebellion theme redeems their dependence on the handsome prince to justify Ariel's transformation. I presented this poem by Judith Viorst as an alternate "take" on the story; I liked this one in high school, but (point being taken--don't change who you are, yadda yadda), it doesn't exactly satisfy me in its interpretation of the story:

A Mermaid's Tail (Tale)

I left the castle of my mer-king father,
Where seaweed gardens sway in pearly sand.
I left behind sweet sisters and kind waters
To seek a prince's love upon the land.

My tongue was payment for the witch's potion,
And never would I sing sea songs again;
My tail became two human legs to dance on,
But I would always dance with shards of pain.

I risked more than my life to make him love me.
The prince preferred another for his bride.
I always hate the ending to this story:
They lived together happily; I cried.

But I have some advice for modern mermaids
Who wish to save great sorrow and travail:
Don't give up who you are for love of princes.
He might have liked me better with my tail.

For all the validating of identity for girls, it is an oversimplification--likely by design. So how to avoid that kind of oversimplification in classroom discussion? We discussed (briefly) ecofeminism, which is so over the top that it's really about use of language rather than perceived oppression, and so is fun for me. Briefly, briefly we discussed Matthew Arnold's "The Forsaken Merman." I think that comparison could have been fruitful on the religious front, with the contrast between nature/paganism and humanity/religion, and all of the various associations. But we wasted too much time talking about Disney. :P

My previous post about politics, perspectives, worldviews in the classroom was kind of poking (admittedly smug) fun at myself, though it did culminate in a very real frustration with what I see as the limitations and expectations of my teaching in my discipline. I worry about including texts that I don't like or with which I don't feel familiar enough to teach simply in order to represent a diversity of voices. I worry that when I include multi-ethnic selections or female authors as an afterthought, that I'm being a phony--or that I will come across that way. And that's a lot of baggage to add to the already considerable pressures of teaching.

And what about Catholicism? If to teach is my vocation (or part of my vocation), and I'm supposed to live my Faith, how do those things work together? As far as I can tell, it doesn't mean that I have to be nicey-nicey in the classroom (or on the blog, for that matter). I certainly DO have to engage with these questions, and this is a good format for me to do so. But what about subject matter of research and teaching? Surely I shouldn't shy away from the Christianity, though I can't really pursue the themes in more than superficial terms in my current position. And I have a problem with texts being taught simply for their Christian elements (usually in a simplified form)--like is done with the Chronicles of Narnia, which are typically embraced or rejected by scholars or teachers for their Christian elements. That is a bit simplistic on both sides.

With research, it is easier than teaching, I think. If we are selective in our research, well, that's part of being specialized. And I'm not sure how we can live the Faith through academic publishing, unless it means not publishing that thing I wrote about S & M in the films of a certain Spanish director. Yeah, that topic has been shelved permanently for a few years now.

It's a funny thing about my last post. . .

They don't really have me pegged. At least, they don't think twice about any of what I mentioned in my previous post. I rather knew that. I'm speaking to my own recognition that I'm ideologically at odds with my discipline--and my own discomfort about representing perspectives that I'm supposed to believe (on a level), but don't. I had this interesting conversation with a student (yes, the same one) after class in which she admitted that she has difficulty getting outside of her own contemporary perspective when she reads about women, and love, and mer-people lacking souls. Then we continued to discuss representations of female complexity as a historical literary development. Go figure.

They Have My Number. . .

I didn't do anything to announce my personal views. I try to avoid the kinds of discussions that reveal how at odds I am with the presumed politics of my discipline--the kind that my students expect from English profs and (especially) grad students. But they know--perhaps because of my avoidance. I can talk the talk, I assure you. I took ALL of those graduate classes & played along. Truthfully, I used to be better at the playing along than I am now. I find myself giving lip service to the theories, while my attitude is subtly dismissive. I can't teach Herland anymore because there's too much that I find disturbing. I can't say, theoretically, "Well, under what circumstances MIGHT it be good for the babies to be raised by someone other than their mothers?" without betraying that I can't really entertain this as a valid possibility except in the most extreme of cases, which is not what Charlotte Perkins Gilman had in mind.

So the other day, one student told me about a news story in which a child was suspended from school for playing cowboys & Indians, or cops & robbers, or some equally politically incorrect game and making a handgun motion with his hand. I incredulously asked where this occurred, and she replied that it was in Texas. Then she asked, "You would have felt better if I had said California, wouldn't you?" Yes, yes I would. How did she know? Not that I think Texas wins any kind of prize for just discipline of children, or leads the nation in healthy attitudes toward violence, but I would have been comforted to know that the incident was further removed from where I am now. Of course, a harsh backlash is usually the strategy to correct something that's seen as an extreme problem, and some administrator probably meant to nip "Texas gun culture" in the bud. But that's not the point. How did she have me pegged??

I gave admirable lip service to the notion that the canon should be deconstructed. I mean, I put in some good words for the traditional canon. But for the most part, I think I gave a pretty convincing account of why the canon (or the notion of a canon) should be questioned, and I talked about representing a multiplicity of voices to more accurately represent who was, indeed, writing. I don't think they believed me. Truthfully, I like models that acknowledge the influence of certain writers on others, though this is admittedly uneven representation. I do not believe in including mediocre works just to add diversity, or because they represent marginal opinions. I am all for diversity when it is appropriate, and I do see value in exploring cross-cultural perspectives, but not simply for the sake of doing so. There are times when we are all talking about the same things, albeit from different perspectives, and it's good to compare, as long as you acknowledge a basis for comparison--typically, Western Culture, since that's the tradition our discipline grows out of. I don't see why ANYONE should have to read Gloria Anzaldua. Or Kate Chopin, for that matter.

I brought in very inclusive picture books! But only the best examples. Okay, some of the environmentalist titles were bad. Really bad. But I've published in ecocriticism and children's lit, so I'm entitled.

Today, we were talking about fairy tales. I encouraged them to retell a story with emphasis on some "-ism." I guess this was inviting mockery. So one group took a proto-feminist tale with some ambiguities and complexities and suggested removing the complexities to make it a more blatantly feminist text. The female character was more self-sufficient, did the accounting for her father, opened her own business after being rejected in marriage. When she admired her beloved, she noted that he had a nice butt. Nice. So I blurted out, "You're objectifying him!" Well, one of my group members, English major, the same one who made the California crack (above), BURST out laughing--and was joined by the rest of the class. Including myself.

I can't help thinking that I'm actively working against what others in my department--er, discipline--are trying to accomplish. Not sure what that is or how I'm undermining it, but you know. . .

Earlier in the class, I argued with a student that to use "proletariat" to mean "peasantry" or "lower class" or "working class" was inappropriate because it invoked a specific theoretical perspective or methodology. You can't talk like Marx without invoking Marx in my class, especially when discussing "Beauty and the Beast" (the 18th Century version). Umm, yeah. So he argued that he just thought that Marx was pretty accurately representing history (see Literacy-chic's head explode), at which point I corrected him and said that Marx was using the term to describe his perception of history, but when you say "proletariat" it is not a neutral term, and does not merely invoke Marx but all who come after Marx.

They have so totally got me pegged. I don't know how I'll ever find an academic job in my field.

Vertical and Verbal

My Chiclette, of course!! She is now standing up! At 8 1/2 months! I figure we're basically in a lot of trouble and she will be chasing her sister around very, very soon--much sooner than I like to think about! Doodle didn't walk until she was around 15 months, and then she RAN. This one has a jump on her, I think. . .

And for the other half of the equation, I think Chiclette is going to be an early talker. It took her a while to make many sounds at all--I think she was just looking around & listening & taking it all in. But for a while now (and I always try to have my suspicions confirmed before making any pronouncements about whether she has reached a milestone early. . .) she has been making more "focused-sounding" sounds--specifically, for the past week or two, when I pick her up or when she wants me, I hear "Mamamom." When Daddy walks by, a similar "Dadada." I even thought Brother got a "Buh" the other day. The Momma one has definitely been confirmed. It's too uncanny to be coincidence.

She claps, too! And waves! She sits or kneels up in her little play yard, affectionately called "The Cage" since her brother's day (or possibly before), and looks at one of us, opening and closing her little hand. She learned that trick when my mom was here a few weeks back, and there were many goodbyes. She sings now, too. Whenever she hears someone singing or hears music that she likes, she sings with a little, "Aaaaaaaaaaah." (I love that!!) Meanwhile, Doodle likes to sing along to "The Flight of the Valkyries," and dance and conduct! Such cuties!!

Of course, I didn't mention the teensy bit of separation-anxiety clinginess that results from my being gone a couple of hours a day to teach. She doesn't cry when I leave, just when I come back! And Doodle? Doesn't mind my leaving at all, so long as there's an adventure to be had. On school days, I ask if she wants to go "play," and she's excited. We've finally made a decision for the fall--she is ready for the 3-year-old class at my son's old Montessori school. Yay! :)

Okay, so I discovered Etsy. . .

. . . Courtesy of the Ottobre Group I joined on Yahoo! Am I the last person in the world to hear of this or is it a well-kept secret for those in the know? At any rate, it looks like there's some very cool stuff. Looks more trustworthy and reliable than eBay--that is, you seem to know more up front, and there's less of a sense that someone is out to cheat you. The merchants set their own prices--no "auction"--and the items are largely (completely?) hand made. Neat! I bought each of my girls some non-slip hair-bow clippies! You can see them here and here.

Meanwhile, I cut Doodle's hair--short. I was just trying to trim the whispies!! She kind of looks like Haley Mills in The Parent Trap. . . It's cute, and still kind of flippy, but I miss the whispy curls.

Not a Poem

There isn't a time
when I'm away from you
that I don't think about you in some way--
Some thing that I want to say to you,
some thing we could do if you were here.
Things have grown so complex over time--
there is an intricate balance
to our lives
that we upset
time and time again
and almost maintain
for precious seconds at a time.
So many variables,
so many variables,
so many, many quirks in a day of turning
again and again to the same tasks, but still together.
And you know when I am angry
with you
and you are angry
with me,
the largeness of my self-righteousness
shrinks
to
pain
and
my anger
melts to sadness
as I try to think of ways
to make it right again.
There is an anger in you
that I think is always with you
that I can't soothe
with words or touch,
that lurks behind your eyes
and in the corners of your mouth
that haunts your eyebrows, waiting
waiting, waiting. . .
Hopping
from object to object
mutating,
waiting, waiting, waiting. . .
And I?
I have my indignation.
I have my notion
of how things ought to be
but aren't
and probably never could be.
And if in your anger I don't perceive
the qualities that made me love you,
neither in my hurtful pride
do I endear myself to you.
So we separate
for a few hours,
dwelling, perhaps, in things said
perhaps meant,
perhaps meant to hurt with a grain of truth.
I would take the hurt and keep the truth
before seeing you again.
If I could simplify an hour
to remember, with you,
how being with you
was an escape from the intricacies
that we otherwise had to balance,
negotiations
we would rather not perform,
if I could melt
your anger into peace
and share a quiet time with you alone,
I would.

Chicken Dress!!

I finished it last night, and Doodle wore it to Mass this morning. Unfortunately, she wasn't feeling good and developed a fever midway through Mass, so her cute exterior concealed a crummy-feeling interior. Poor Doodle!

Less anonymous pics are on the family blog, here!

NOTE: I wanted to add a note about the family blog--I keep pictures of my daughters fairly closely guarded online, so the family blog (above) is not open to the public--sorry for that! BUt thanks for visiting and looking at my version of this very cute dress! :)

Too Tired to Post, Too Busy to Read

Everything is going very well, but in every free moment during the week, I'm prepping to teach or getting things settled with the family. On MWF, Doodle has been in our parish's Child Development Center from 9:30-2:30. Today was our third day, and things are going well. I wasn't too sure until today about her teacher, who is very hard to "read," but today I got a better "feel" for her dynamic with Doodle in particular, and it put me at ease quite a bit. It's really not a lot of time for her to be away--by the time I'm finished teaching, it's just about time to pick her up! Still not sure where she'll be for the fall, but I've got a few weeks. It depends on the potty training situation, which is going well. We have largely overcome the fear of the toilet flushing underneath her, mainly by taking it slowly. Accidents are minimal these days. That's quite a relief. On the days when Doodle is at the CDC, Chiclette and big brother (BB) are with my husband at work--one little 8-month-old doesn't cause too much of a disruption--for about 2 hours, give or take. On Tuesdays, they all stay home with my youngest sister to watch them, and on Thursdays they are with a friend, playing with her 3! They always have fun when they're together. BB is a big brother to all of them--and is introducing her 5-year-old to Pokemon!

I'm enjoying teaching children's lit. I am teaching it like a cross between "children's literature criticism & theory" and an intro to lit or genre course. I find myself covering some of the same ground as intro to lit because they just haven't had the stuff. It's a small class, which is good, and I will be able to do some more tweaking for the fall. We have covered a general intro to children's lit, including a "how critics talk about this stuff," then talked about picture books and alphabets. Next is verse. The Norton Anthology is good, but leaves a lot of room for supplementation. You know, picture books get heavy when you carry enough of them!!

I'm starting to think that this is really what I want to do--to teach children's lit, fantasy, science fiction--all of that marginal stuff that doesn't get much attention. It's fun, and there's nothing I really HAVE to do--I can have fun with it, and for me, the "fun" is treating it like an advanced lit course by incorporating criticism & having them write analyses of the books. I'd also like to teach Brit Lit, but I'll be looking for children's lit positions.

I am trying to sew in my spare time. I have a "chicken dress" cut out and partially assembled for Doodle, who is at the perfect age for me to make dresses. It will have 3 ruffled tiers. The bodice is a brown fabric with chickens. The first tier is wheat & grasses. The second is black with chicken wire, and the third is EGGS! :) Sadly, they're not free range chickens. . . It is an Ottobre pattern. So nice to sew with my new machine! But I have to restrain myself.

I missed a Saturday of research in the Science Fiction archives (they were closed 7/05), and still haven't posted all of my notes & analysis (see other blog), but plan to get back on track this weekend.

Chiclette is growing by leaps & bounds (and I'm totally failing to chronicle it all)! She has had 2 teeth for several weeks now, is scooting & almost crawling, sitting up by herself, kneeling up & thinking about standing. Trust me, I can tell! ;) Her hair is past her eyes. When I think about it, I put it up in a Pebbles ponytail. She eats solids twice a day--had to step that up recently--and still nurses regularly. She now contests Doodle for the right to sleep next to me. :P Knew the sleeping wouldn't last.

So that's life, and you will forgive me if I grow neglectful. I hope to catch up with everyone one day!! Until then, well, this life is fun, too.

No, really. . . Stanley Fish is my hero!

Check out his own words, here and here. I understand his position perfectly.

A couple of things, though. . .

First, I just love that the inventor of Reader Response Theory has this to say:

Bob reports that he was not able “to obtain a grade above a ‘C’ until I changed my political views when interpreting, say, a Robert Frost poem.” But why should your political views have anything to do with the interpretation of a Robert Frost poem? You’re trying to figure out where Frost stands, politically or otherwise; where you stand is simply not to the point.

First thing--DEATH OF THE AUTHOR. We might try to figure out what discourses Frost's poem is tapping into, or historicize it according to issues of his day. We are absolutely NOT "trying to figure out where Frost stands" (anymore). You should know that, Mr. Fish! Second thing--Aren't the students' political views part of what they "bring to the table" in the act of interpretation in which the reader and the author collaborate through the written text in the creation of a separate but more valid text that is the result of the reading process (since how can a text exist unless it is read)? Or was all that kind of thing just an exercise in theoretical loop-de-loops?

Then, there's this piece of loveliness:

It would be no more difficult for a neo-Nazi or a Klu Kluxer to set aside his or her views and concentrate on the pedagogical task than it would be for a devout Catholic or a militant atheist.

I object to "devout Catholic" being named alongside a "a neo-Nazi or a Klu Kluxer" (admittedly, not terms supplied by Fish himself, merely repeated from comments), since the latter terms are anti-social, hate-filled ideologies and extremist positions. If one should object that "devout Catholic" was being equated, rather, with a "militant atheist," the objection doesn't improve matters. Observe the term, "militant." Is "devout" even analogous? Only if one assumes that both positions are equally invalid, and even so, devotion does not imply domination of others through belief. Or if one thinks that religious belief itself, or perhaps the beliefs of certain religions (not Islam, for example) is inherently extremist. (Anastasia has some interesting thoughts on extremism. . .)

This choice of comparisons also introduces something that Fish does not address, namely, whether the "leave personal beliefs out of the classroom" admonition applies equally to all types of colleges/universities, since religious belief is clearly included. The implementing of curricula at Catholic colleges, hence, the organization of syllabi and selection of texts may be (but isn't always, I understand) done according to a Catholic perspective. What then? I guess if you accept that a university may explicitly contextualize itself within a certain worldview (or intellectual tradition), the goal of the educational experience might shift a bit, being framed within a religious context, so one might expect to find Joyce taught a bit differently, for example. I would still consider teaching Joyce within a context appropriate to the specific intellectual tradition or worldview represented by the university focusing on the task at hand, but the task is defined somewhat differently.

Which brings me to the conclusion of this piece:

Sarah touches on what is perhaps the most urgent question one could put to the enterprise of liberal education. What, after all, justifies it? The demand for justification, as I have said in other places, always come from those outside the enterprise. Those inside the enterprise should resist it, because to justify something is to diminish it by implying that its value lies elsewhere. If the question What justifies what you do? won’t go away, the best answer to give is “nothing.”

I like this, really. I've said before that I believe that reading and analyzing text is inherently valuable, in spite of the fact that it does not directly impact the "real world"--whatever that is. And a contemplative life (which I do not claim to live) may be valuable for the individual and those he/she touches, if intangibly so. I think that some colleges and universities are able to more openly acknowledge that not only "useful" subjects are "useful." And I think that some colleges and universities are able to couch this inherent worth by framing the learning process within the context of religious belief--at least, that's how I would imagine it would work. Does that mean that I would feel confident saying in the classroom that I find Obama morally repugnant? Not a bit of it. Does this mean I would feel comfortable comparing aspects of the worldview in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings to a papal encyclical? Yup.

Stanley Fish is My Hero

From the man who brought us Reader Response Theory comes some really useful advice: Save The World on Your Own Time! And Good Lord, do I hope it catches on! At the very least, it should cause a stir. I have not had time to blog around to see what others are saying. This hat tip goes to my husband, who referred me to a blog he frequents, Instapundit, and here's the quote:

STANLEY FISH'S ADVICE TO PROFESSORS: Save the World on Your Own Time.

More on that here. "Whether anyone notices it or not or comments on it or not, the teaching of writing in universities is a disaster. [There is] the conviction on the part of many composition teachers that what they are really teaching is some form of social justice, and that the teaching of writing ... takes a back seat. And in fact in many classrooms the teaching of writing as a craft as something that has rules with appropriate decorums ... is in fact demonized as an indication of the hegemony of the powers that be. This happens over and over again in classrooms and it’s an absolute disaster."

Can I just say thank you?? I have been skeptical of professors' agendas since I was an undergrad, but since I was an undergrad when Clinton was pres. and at a university where no one really cared anymore, I was spared the more overtly political preaching. There was no Ph.D. program, either, so I didn't have activist grad student types (sorry, guys, you know they're out there) telling me what to think. And I've been the fly on the wall for too many "reprogram the Conservative Christian Students" conversations to dismiss the activism as myth. And I'm not just talking about the current generation of Ph.D.s in the department, most of whom I don't know. This stuff has been bantered about since I got here, and got worse when the fear of 9/11 wore off and after Bush won reelection. Perhaps the only thing that would come of a democratic victory would be that we could go back to teaching literature and composition and back off of the politics. (I don't believe this for one minute, btw.) Now, I do think that there can be a political dimension to literary criticism, but it's being hit a little hard, ya know?

Now Stanley Fish has in the past drawn a skeptical response from me, as he seems, elsewhere, to advocate the "anything goes" method of teaching literature, and I have never seen the use for that. It seems to me that we must have the text as a common ground, and even if we can't refer back to the author, we should at least be able to refer back to the text and assume that multiple readers, while each bringing something else to the table, can still agree on the essential elements of that text. The text, for me, does not exist somewhere "out there"--discourse surrounding the text and about the text exists "out there," but that's different; rather, it exists in the book in front of us. However, Fish posited (a while ago, this is old news) that it is the reader's engagement with the text, including what the reader brings from his/her own background, that creates a separate thing, the "text" that is the result of a collaboration between the reader and the author. I don't buy it. And I'm not alone, but it was all the rage for a while--before my time. I think the idea was to liberate something from something--the text from critics, the author from biography, the students from professors.

So as a guy who wants to liberate, and transfers this to the classroom, the advice seems odd, no? Except that he remains the champion of the student, in a way. Why do we have to steamroll their opinions and values--all that they bring to the table? Why should we automatically assume that we are the enlightened ones in all matters--including individual values/beliefs? When we alter their ways of thinking, must we alter their consciences? At any rate, Fish has tapped into exactly why I don't want to go into Rhetoric/Comp, although I'm technically qualified and have been groomed for it, more or less. I don't want to hang around these guys and be subjected to the enlightened assumption that everyone does or should agree with their views of the world. And--by the way--teach from their textbooks. If the meaning of a literary text depends on the reader, and if the professor should keep that in mind, then how much more should we stay out of their responses to politics, since that's not what we're called upon to teach?

[Of course, I am coming at this from a very different perspective from Mr. Fish, who scorns neoconservative blah blah blah, etc. and really thinks this king of thing only happens a small percentage of the time. But if that's so, why can't I find a decent composition text?]

Catching Up (sort of)

Well, it's been a busy (hectic, stressful) couple of weeks, but also good, and somewhat productive. I have managed to complete almost all of the necessary paperwork to graduate in August, order regalia (or at least reserve the rental), submit the dissertation, etc. I have been going to research in the archives library every Saturday to work on a research project for which I received an award for the summer. I have also managed to spend my way pretty well through that grant, mainly on basics and incidentals, so this month will be tricky. I did buy a few nice things on sale this past week so I could look nice teaching--did I mention that that starts today?? Potty training has been going well, and my Doodle is even able to use the bathroom in public, so long as she doesn't touch the seat (better for her anyway, really. . .) She starts child care ("school"?) 3x a week this week, and I hope she does well. She likes the classroom--we visited yesterday. The lead teacher is an older woman who is nice, but seems out of touch--particularly out-of-touch with potty training issues, which is bad. She was also a little pedantic in her dealings with Doodle yesterday--I have some vague apprehensions that my little girl will not be seen for what she is--spirited and very intelligent--but will be regarded as willful and defiant. We'll see. . . I clearly need to forget my fears and hope for the best, here. After all, a 10 minute meeting doesn't reveal all, right?

My mom was in town last week (and part of this week) with my youngest brother. That is always a delight and a challenge, but there's too much to be said about that, really. My youngest brother is very unique in many ways and being with him is always an experience unto itself. We had some good times this week. My mom was able to treat us to pizza, and we made taco salads. I met my mom & sister at the mall one day, which was when I bought my teaching outfits. My mom even bought me 2 shirts! I can't tell you how long it's been since she did that--or was even able to do that! She has been awarded some money, and all she can think about is what she can do for us--her children. Which makes me feel bad in a way.

She bought me a new sewing machine!! A shop in New Orleans was going out of business, and he marked down all of his Elna sewing machines. She bought herself a good machine, a backup machine, and a serger (Did I mention that she's a seamstress? She's also doing alterations these days. She makes a mean slipcover & pillows & roman shades, too!). Then she bought me a more basic model--which is just what I wanted!! It's wonderful. Basic for her, but with many more features than my hundred-dollar on-sale-at-Target model (keep in mind that Target does not sell patterns, fabric, thread. . .). It was one of those things that I looked at, thought about, but never would have bought for myself, and so is greatly appreciated. I did manage to make another blanket using the new machine, for a little boy whose first birthday was over the weekend:



One day early last week, we made buttonholes!! It does so automatically, or just about. YAY!! That was one of the things I feared the most! So now, although I have a MILLION things I would like to sew, including a three-tiered "chicken dress" for my Doodle, I have to put it aside indefinitely.

I'm not sure how much blogging I will be able to do, either. I learned during Lent that I get more done if I put the blog away. *sigh* I have a couple of posts in the works for my other blog, Booknotes from Literacy-chic, that will cover my research and perhaps some teaching ideas, too. Hope to see you there! (If I can catch up & keep up!!)