Michigan vs. California

Problem #3 Rules to basic societal interactions

This is a continuation from the last post. Don't read this until you read the previous post.

In 1993, my family moved to France. I wasn’t too worried about the move because I had already changed schools many times, and everyone told me that I made friends quickly and easily. My nine year old psyche had learned the rules for making friends in America: exchange names, agree and find common ground, then invite them over. I was very surprised when the same formula didn’t work in France. The code for social power has different rules in France. People who always agree and look for common ground are seen as weak, dependant, and un-interesting. In France, in order to make a friend, you don’t give your name first, or find a common interest, you talk about an idea, preferably one on which the two interlocutors have differing opinions. Once you show your independent thinking, then an exchange of names takes place, etc.

It took me some time to adjust to this change of rules; no one ever told me that the code of societal power was different in France, nor how it was different. I had to figure it out blindly. So do thousands of American tourists and ex-pats who leave France feeling the French are rude. They are wrong; the French take manners much more seriously than we do, but a Frenchman who disagrees with you is probably trying to befriend you.

Similarly to my own difficulties in code switching many students in urban school districts must learn to code switch when interacting with their scholastic and future professional environments. Their native codes, whether they are the code of a mother country, a gang, or a certain neighborhood, are often notably different from mainstream America’s culture of power. Simple gestures like a handshake, eye-contact, or a hug have significant meaning in our culture of power – meanings that are often significantly different in other cultures.

Some of my students who never look me in the eye do so because they have been taught deference to authority means not looking an authority figure in the eye. Imagine the impact this could have on their first interview… any interviewer would assume they were either lying about everything they said or too shy to function normally. Handshakes are similar. For many of my students a certain handshake is a symbol of gang membership. Gang members (this might not be true of all gangs, but it is with those I deal with) don’t just shake anyone’s hand, only those they know belong to their group. In a society where a handshake is a gesture of greeting and simple acquaintanceship refusing a handshake is almost never permissible.

These simple physical examples are a metonymy for the greater malaise that many students have as they attempt to learn both the codes of their native culture, or neighborhood along side the culture of power taught, or at least demonstrated, at school. Differences in interactions, exchanges, and all types of relationships abound between various codes. Students who fail to learn the codes of the culture of power close doors to their own futures, doors that open with the passwords that everyone around them seems to know, but no one bothered to tell them about explicitly.

Direct instruction in code switching helps students significantly. Just as I would have appreciated someone telling me explicitly how to make friends on a French playground, my students need someone to tell them explicitly the differences and similarities between the codes they have learned at home and the codes that prevail in the greater American society.

The Code of Power -The secrets almost everybody ignorantly knows-

I have been trying to untangle and decompress everything that I have learned from my first year on the front lines of a public school in a challenging neighborhood. The first thing that comes to mind as a lesson learned is the importance of a secret I didn’t know I knew until this year: The Code of Power in American society.

From day one I have wondered what the purposes of the public school system ought to be. What is it that we really need students to know, understand, and be able to do at the end of each successive grade level, and finally upon exiting the public school system? While I don’t think any short answer is sufficient; independent, functioning, upstanding, contributing citizens in American society is certainly one of the products that our public schools aim to produce. There are many schools that are systematically failing in this regard year after year. Of course, the question why is an important one, one that desperately needs an answer. I have read several enlightening authors and thinkers who highlight The Code of Power as a key lever in probing these questions.

From my reading and own ideas on the topic, here are four fundamentals about the Code of Power followed by three problems I have observed this year that I believe trace their cause to these four ideas (borrowing and adapting mainly from Lisa Delpit).

1) There are codes that govern how we interact with each other.

2) The degree to which we know these codes of interaction is proportional to our ability to get what we want.

3) These codes are culture and context specific; they reflect an amalgamation of the beliefs, tastes, habits, values, and traditions of those in power in any given locality or institution.

4) To ignore or to be ignorant of these codes is to perpetuate the societal or institutional status quo. Those in power are often oblivious to the existence of these codes because they learned them gradually and inexplicitly and because understanding of these codes is widespread enough to be assumed ubiquitous.

Problem #1: How authority is attained and communicated

While teaching summer school in LA’s Watts neighborhood, I had a very rough first few days with a tall 14 year old African American student named Keiwan. I felt that he simply had no respect for me as a person or teacher. I complained to an advisor that Keiwan usually did exactly the opposite of what I asked him. My advisor replied by asking if I ever yelled at him, I responded that of course I did not. He recommended that I yell at him to show that I am an authoritative person. The next day when Keiwan refused to stop talking after several requests I shouted “Keiwan shut up and get on task!” Much to my surprise, he did exactly that.

First this highlights the different understanding that Keiwan and I had of how one attains authority. I feel that I have authority in the classroom because I am the teacher. Similarly I think the police officer who pulls me over has authority because he is an officer, and the President has authority because he is the president. Keiwan’s cultural code held a different rule for how authority is distributed. In his mind the authoritative person has authority, thus the authoritative person gets to be the teacher, or the officer, or the president because they are authoritative. Once I showed Keiwan that I am an authoritative person, then he was happy to co-operate. In a twisted irony, Keiwan’s code frankly makes a lot more sense from an anthropological lens, but his code isn’t the one that governs power on main street or high street in America.

This anecdote also illustrates how the American code communicates authority. Our American culture of power is structured to de-emphasize power through indirect communication. Consider the way we make requests and even commands… in my inbox of emails from my superiors asking me to do one thing or another here are the words used: “maybe you could”, “perhaps”, “when you have time”, “it would be a good idea”, “If I were you I would”, “when it is convenient”, etc. These are coded commands. As early as I can remember my mother said to me “What do you think about cleaning up your toys” of course she didn’t want my thoughts on cleaning up, she was de-emphasizing the power inherent in commanding me to clean up my toys. The codes are different however in Keiwan’s house. His mother is likely to have told him “Boy, clean up your toys this minute!” Ironically, both of our mothers meant exactly the same thing. My mother used a code the de-emphasized the power issue at hand, while Keiwan’s mother probably used a coded phrase that emphasized this power. This doesn’t mean that my mother loved me more or less than Keiwan’s loves him, it is simply a different code. The problem for Keiwan is that most of the teachers, principals, public officials, employers, and customer service reps that he will interact with will use the same code my mother did. If Keiwan doesn’t learn the Codes of Power, he simply won’t be able to get things that he wants from the aforementioned groups of people.

Problem #2: Teaching critical thinking and problem solving without basic skills

This problem is certainly worsened and perhaps even caused in part by the previous one. The culture of power in America is uncomfortable exercising or acknowledging that issues of power are enacted in everyday interactions, thus we hide it behind indirect communication. This spills over to our teaching and classrooms, where a lot of our teaching is very top down. Starting from reasonably early ages, although admittedly not right away, our teaching focuses on problem solving and critical thinking much more than on direct instruction of skills. While no longer widely popular, the whole language approach that taught my generation to read exemplifies this idea. This program taught students to read by reading, first with the teacher, then in small groups, and finally independently. There were no phonics lessons or skills lessons, rather these were taught indirectly. For many students this worked well but for many, especially minority and immigrant populations, (read those less versed in the current American culture of power) it didn’t work at all. Top down indirect teaching has produced high school seniors who can’t read, write, or perform basic arithmetic operations – the very skills our culture of power most values and discriminates on. Instead many graduates have learned to problem solve and think critically but since they don’t have the skills required to participate in the culture of power their logical alternative is to turn to the underworld where the barriers for cultural entry and the codes of power are different and more familiar for many.

Anecdotally, I was baffled at first as to why my brightest thinkers and best problem solvers in class seemed to be those most attracted to and recruited into gangs. I quickly discovered that most of these students were lacking the most elementary reading and writing skills, and thus felt like failures in school. The underworld gives a sense of validation to their intelligence despite their inability to learn the building blocks of the Culture of Power.

Problem #3 Rules to basic societal interactions will wait for another article, as this one is getting rather long. Instead I want to address a simple solution: Direct, explicit teaching to students about different codes, and how to code switch from one to the other. To survive in their neighborhoods my students need to be well versed in their own codes and cultures of power, but to survive at school, they need to learn a new code. They will have a much better chance of learning it if it is taught to them explicitly. I teach my students how to shake hands, how to appropriately express dissent, how to fill out a job application, how authority is distributed in the culture of power, etc.

Economic Impact of US achievement gaps

Underdiscussed economic impact of our Education system's problems.

http://mckinsey.com/clientservice/socialsector/achievementgap.asp

This is why I read and why I teach

http://pausd.org/community/Superintendent/message2009_05_13.shtml

Every week in the classroom has some moments when students say or do crazy or hilarious things, there have been some good ones over the last couple of weeks…

 

1)      Two girls stayed after class and timidly walked up to my desk.  When I asked what I could do for them, they both looked at each other then one whispered to the other “you ask him”, the other replied “I don’t want to, you are the one who has it” finally they looked up at me and one of them asks “Mr. Wilson, do you know how to get rid of a hicky?”  I told her to put some ice on it and eventually it would go away.

 

2)      A tall girl who is notorious for skipping class and behaving poorly walked confidently into the back of my room a few days ago.  I asked her who sent her, and she replied calmly “Mr. Wilson did”  My class giggled, and for some reason, instead of putting her out of her misery, telling her I knew she was lying, and sending her back to her own class I asked, “Why did he send you?”  She paused and replied “so that I could do my work”  I responded “Mr. Wilson sent you so that you could do your work… I am Mr. Wilson, you may go back to your class now” She squawked and ran out of class.

 

3)      One of my quietest students who aspires to be a veterinarian showed up Friday in the back seat where he usually sits with those latex looking gloves that dentists and doctors wear.  He wore them throughout the day during class, at the end of each class he would take them off and place them in his backpack.  During the last class of the day two fingers of one of the gloves ripped off.  The student, who almost never talks in class, put his partially gloved hand in the air and said out loud “Oh no, now I can’t operate on my test.  Oh, well, you will see in a few years this will be the fashion, everyone’s gloves will be missing two fingers!”  I started laughing so hard I could hardly contain myself.  He aced the test despite feeling incapable of operating on it.

 

4)      One of my students has recently made significant improvements on his performance in math class.  I told him a few days ago that I am proud of him.  Now, every time that I circulate throughout the class to check students work which probably amounts to 4-5 times per class period this student earnestly asks “Are you proud of me?”

Modeling

I haven’t kept up either of my blogs for some months now.  That doesn’t mean that I have stopped thinking, or stopped having interesting experiences, on the contrary… it just means that working full time and going to school full time have taken precedence over blogging.  I want to air some of my observations from the trenches of America’s public school system in underprivileged areas.  Most of these thoughts have been brought on by a question that Teach for America asked its corps members on our mid-year survey.  One of the questions read “Is educational inequity the most pressing issue facing our country?”  I paused to reflect on all the factors that contribute to educational inequity, and then to the factors that feed those factors.  Trying to place them into a hierarchy of most pressing is somewhere between difficult and impossible.    When I started TFA I (correctly) assumed that some of the fault for educational inequity and other societal problems lay with the actual school system.  While there are lots of broken pieces in our school system, and there is fault and blame to go around, I want to call attention to some principals that I find lacking in America’s underbelly.  Principals that I think have been fundamental to America’s success and could be fundamental to her fall… today I will start with modeling as a teaching technique, and keep a look out for more on the way.

Modeling

While I have considered a career in modeling, that is not the topic of this post.  Rather modeling is something we talk about all the time in teaching.  Modeling how to do a task, operation, or procedure is simply good didactic practice.  Modeling is how much of our learning occurs both in school and at home.

I have had some funny run ins with parents who perhaps don’t see that the modeling that the student sees at home is being acted out with detrimental effects in school.  For example, we recently called in a parent to discuss her child’s insatiable appetite for hitting his peers every time anything slightly annoying happens to him.  As soon as we told the parent about this issue, she turned to her son and walloped him upside the head and said “Don’t hit” she seemed to think that she had resolved the issue.  I had to turn away and cover my face so that the parent wouldn’t see me laughing at her… all that she had taught her child in that instance was that when frustrated, the natural response is to hit.

The modeling that my male kids see out of males is usually even worse than what I’ve described above.  Only a small percentage of my students have male role models in the home, and some have no males in their lives whatsoever.  So where do they see male behavior modeled? TV, movies, music, sports and me.  This translates into a myriad of problematic beliefs and behaviors including machoism, objectifying women, defiance towards authority, pride, etc

Sports figures have a chance to redeem the males that my students see on TV.  Of course the fact is that TV shows A-Rod doing steroids, J-Rich doing 90 in a 35 zone, and Pacman Jones starting gun fights in strip clubs… great male models.  This week was another example: A friend invited me to a Sharks NHL game, I was thrilled to go, not only for the good company but also because my kids love the Sharks and watch their games often.  I am not much of a hockey fan, and haven’t been to a game in quite some time.  I was disappointed to see the stupid kind of macho flare-up fights that occurred at least every five minutes in a hockey game.  The fighting is completely purposeless, and detracts from an otherwise beautiful game.  Just as bad as the actual skirmishes is the crowd’s reaction.  They seemed to cheer louder for each one of the tiny flare-ups than for goals scored.  I felt like inviting the man next to me to my middle school so he could cheer on the brawls there too. 

Is that really what we want to encourage? Many of my students who don’t have male role models at home take notice of whatever other models they see.  It is no wonder they get up in each other’s faces every time anyone says anything that could be construed as offensive -- they see it on TV, they see it in the arena and they hear thousands of adults cheering for it.

While I hope that I am a good model of how a man ought to interact with his world, I fear that what they see in me diametrically opposes 12-15 years of their own observational experience.  Those years of observing bad models aren’t easily undone.

 You reap what you sow America.  We have sowed some violent winds, and now must face a forecast for a lot of storms.

Food

I regret to say that my life is such that I don’t have nearly as much time as I used to cook everyday.  As a result I have eaten out much more than I have ever before, and this more regular restaurant attendance has led me to reflect on the best dished and restaurants that I have had over the last say 6 months.

 1)      Capellacci alla zucca  @ Il Fornaio in Palo Alto, CA.  Cappelacci are like giant tortellini, these ones were filled with fresh butternut squash cooked in a butter sage sauce sitting in a butter sage tomato cream sauce, I had never heard of such a thing before, but I would like to hear about them again soon.  *****

 2)      Zuppa con Frutti di Mare @ Lungo Mare, Genova, Italy.  There is a picture of this dish a few months back.  Amazing sea food right out of the water onto your plate.

 3)      Fetuccine quattro formaggi  @ Glorias in Provo, UT.  I don’t know how they make that stuff, but I would pay a lot to find out, best four cheeses sauce I have ever had.  I think that I had it 4 times the last month I was in Provo.

 4)      Chef’s Table – Orem, UT.  The dish I had wasn’t amazing… it was basically a glorified cordon bleu, but everyone else’s food was terrific.  The service and restaurant itself was where I have been in a while as any nice…

 5)      Penne e Porcini – Assisi, Italy.  Porcini were great, and the view over the whole Umbrian valley was even better.  

 6)      Pizza Margerita @Sette Soldi, Napoli, Italy.  This place represents all that is good about Napoli.  It is good, cheap, friendly, and loud… and the guy who made my pizza walked out into the street to show me where I could get a good haircut.

 7)      The Red Current, Menlo Park, CA.  This is an amazing little Spanish colonial bistro tucked into a little artsy village.  Terrific food, and very cool environment ... flowers and fountains in the courtyard we ate in were beautiful.

 8)      Burrito Regular – La Hacienda, Alum Rock, CA.  Best burrito and tacos I have ever had.  They put some magic red salsa on everything that is simply amazing.  I go every Wednesday before my night class.  They don’t speak English, and the place is filthy…  maybe some of that extra grease is what makes it taste so good.

Yenta, Hitch, and Today

Occasionally we all observe some event that seems to epitomize some aspect of the Human experience. This week, the middle school play ground was the backdrop for one such observation. The protagonists were Victor and Jasmine, two popular eighth graders. Victor had been sad in class all day because Jasmine broke up with him. One of his friends had told him so. In the staff room, one of the other teachers told me that Jasmine had been sad all morning because one of her friends had told one of Victor’s friends that Jasmine was breaking up with him, but she hadn’t wanted to break up, but now she didn’t know what to do because Victor had already heard. Soon after the bell rang for recess, two circles formed on the blacktop: one around Victor and one around Jasmine. Victor and Jasmine never spoke to each other, and attempted to hide from each others darting glances. Occasionally one of the groups would send a student or two to parlay with the other side.

I don’t know what ended up happening, but I had to chuckle at the way Victor and Jasmine allowed their relationship to be brokered and influenced by their friends. In fact, their relationship became a public discussion and negotiation, in which everyone and anyone was an accepted counselor and negotiator, everyone, that is, except Victor and Jasmine.

While this example of a brokered relationship is perhaps an extreme, we aren’t so far removed from the days of a paid Yenta or Hitch nor from playground negotiating circles as we might care to believe. I spoke at some length about the merits of brokered relationships with a friend who vehemently defended the practice as both valid and nearly necessary… her arguments weren’t groundless either as she has had brokered lifelong relationships for several siblings and friends. I can’t help but wonder why in this most important matter of personal relationships we hand the reins, at least partially, to others thereby allowing them to make, or to help make our decisions?

Why do we ask others to do the finding out for us – by that I mean we ask “do you think that she likes me?” “Do you think that he was just being nice to me, or was he flirting?” etc, etc, etc. Answer: because we feel unsure, insecure, afraid, and awkward to actually find out from the horse’s mouth. I even think that some people enjoy the actual discussion and the late night scheming with roommates, and friends more than they actually want to know the answer to these questions.

Even worse is the public evaluation. Why ought we to allow a large group to have their voice heard on whether or not I should be with so and so. The public isn’t choosing whether or not to be with so and so, I am; as such, the responsibility for that decision falls on me and not on tangentially involved third parties.

I don’t honestly think that my rant will change anything, but I wonder what a world would be like in which our insecurity and awkwardness didn’t prevent us from being transparent. Sinclair Lewis’ Babbit is a marvelous exposition of the risks we run as a society when we lack transparency… perhaps I should read it with my middle schoolers, and perhaps as a society we would benefit from his 90 year old advise!

Social ills, Starfish, Systemic change

Working for a non-profit social-ills conscious organization has given me cause to wonder and talk about how one really ought to go about addressing social problems, and how I or anyone else can really help or make a meaningful impact on the world.

In the past I have felt as though there were basically two different approaches to trying to make a positive difference in the world: a one individual at a time grass roots approach that preaches first bettering yourself, then reaching out to your family, then those closest to you, then your community, etc. This approach puts us in the trenches of real lives and issues with the full complexity of individual situations and people. The parable of the starfish illustrates this method of making a difference: an onlooker pointed out to an unnamed good doer that his work of throwing beached starfish back into the ocean was completely futile because he could never hope to save any significant number of them, not to mention all of the thousands of starfish on the beach. The un-phased good doer held up a starfish and said “yes, I know, but to this one it matters”

An alternative approach to making an impact involves a perhaps more traditional top down leadership model in which an individual seeks positions of influence to inform, involve, and engage their fellow men and women. This model seeks to change the societal structure by altering policy and regulations. In our starfish example, this top down good does would spend his or her time recruiting and organizing labor crews of people to go to the beach to throw star fish back into the water. This model seems to dictate that the individual sets out to change the world, or at least to take an issue head on.

I have often wondered about the merits of these two models. Until recently I foolishly viewed them as mutually exclusive. I was surprised in one of my first Teach for America trainings that TFA believes that in order to have an impact, both models must be used… the individual in the trenches cannot see broadly enough or influence enough potential collaborators to root out entire social problems, nor can the academic or politician in an ivory tower understand issues sufficiently to grasp their full complexity without spending time in the trenches combating whatever the issue might be. At TFA the social ill we are fighting against is educational inequity, and we propose a two phased battle… first the one fought by individual teachers in classrooms, then leading to phase two that plays out in school board meetings, state and national political chambers, other wide reaching institutional avenues.

Thus to truly “make a difference” or play a role in solving most issues I feel that it is important to be involved individually at a ground level, and then just as important is the drive to influence others to collaborate and effect broad systemic change. Further lingering questions that may earn a post of their own are: In a world full of problems that range from genocide to teen pregnancy, and from illiteracy to racial, sexual, or religious discrimination what issues ought I as an individual to focus on? Is it right to focus on one or a few pet issues? How does one really find the root cause of social problems and avoid merely treating the symptoms or the consequences?

Judge a Hotel by its Pillows

I have slept in quite a few hotels and hostels this last year… 16 to be precise. I have decided that while you can’t judge a book by its cover, you can judge a hotel by its pillow(s). At the low end, I stayed in a hostel in Rome that crammed ten beds into a space smaller than my parent’s master bath. The mattresses were about four inches thick, and the blankets and tiny pillow looked frighteningly likely to contain lice. I feel somewhat guilty for calling that small wad of cloth a pillow. It wasn’t much more than 18 ‘’ long or a foot wide, I put my sweatshirt underneath it to make it a little more substantial.

I am currently writing from the Crown Plaza in Foster City, CA. If pillows really are a proxy for hotel quality, this place would rival that seven star hotel in Dubai. There are no less than 11 pillows on my bed. No it isn’t a king size, and yes the pillows do take up half of the bed space. To be able to get in bed, I have to throw half of them on the floor, which is a shame because each one is uniquely fluffy. The beds themselves here have no peers. The mattress & box spring combo looks to be about three and a half feet thick, and may be the most comfortable bed that I have ever slept in.

If I ever open a hotel, which I won’t, I will be sure to find out where Crown Plaza gets theirs!

Alter Ipse Amicus - A Friend is Another Self

My apologies for neglecting this blog over the last couple of weeks, my Teach for America training has kept me busy, and so has blogging about TFA on my other blog. For what feels like the nth time in my life, I recently left a group of friends and a home to go make new friends and a new home. This has led me to think about friends.

As our lives move us around, we have lots of different kinds of friends. For today’s purposes I am going to split them into two groups. Friends of choice, and friends of circumstance. I am often struck as I meet up with old friends or extended family members how much easier it is to distinguish between these two groups. At some happy times when I meet up with an old friend or family member, it is as if the time and distance that has separated us physically hasn’t put any distance in our friendship. We are friends not only because of shared experiences, beliefs, interests, but also a general enjoyment of each other’s company and a feeling of mutual understanding. Even if we haven’t seen each other or talked to each other for some time, we are able to catch up quickly on each other and quickly enjoy our previous friendship. Meeting up with my close friend from Paris days here in L.A. has been precisely such a meeting.

Other times, meeting an old friend turns very awkward when I feel that I have nothing to talk to them about, and sometimes I wonder why we were friends in the first place. I call these friends of circumstance. We were friends because we shared some experience, were members of a common group, or shared an interest. Once those commonalities are no longer shared, our friendship can easily dissolve. Once we stop communicating, our friendship dies. Our understanding one for the other does not stretch beyond simple circumstances.

I think that friends of choice are the friends that we would choose, and indeed do choose among alternatives. Sometimes in any given social group, I have a hard time distinguishing who are merely my friends due to circumstance, and who are my friends because we have literally chosen each other. Because we don’t have the time in this life to stay closely connected to everyone we meet and would like to befriend, I think that time can reveal some of the character of a friendship.

Pleasant Beggars

Beggars across the world have a lot in common I think; In every country and continent they seem to me to have an air of beaten down quiet desperation coupled with a persistence born of necessity sometimes mixed with a tinge of madness. As I’m writing this, I realize that most people don’t talk to a lot of beggars… I usually don’t carry on conversations with them, but as a missionary in Italy, I felt a mandate to talk to everyone, superstars, cardinals, and beggars a like. Given that there are a lot more beggars than there are cardinals I seemed to talk to a lot of them.

Today I walked out of a pharmacy and a beggar at the exit greeted me with the usual desperate beaten down tone “good morning” could you spare any change? I had run from my dorm, and had only brought my credit card, and so I told him that I didn’t have any. His response surprised me. “Oh that’s ok man, don’t worry about it man, you have a good day man, and God bless man.” I smiled and started the walk back up the hill. Walking out of the grocery store I was greeted by another beggar: “Hey could you spare any change?” I gave the same response, and the beggar responded in the same warm tone as his colleague that I had encountered earlier “Well you go and have a good day then”

These beggars treated me better than the people cashiers in the stores whose wages I was helping to pay! I wonder what makes L.A. beggars so cheery?

"Classic Case of Deviant Behavior"

I have always been very amused by my sporadic encounters with The Onion. The article pasted below cuts pretty close to home though…

GREENWOOD, IN—Sitting in a quiet downtown diner, local hospital administrator Philip Meyer looks as normal and well-adjusted as can be. Yet, there's more to this 27-year-old than first meets the eye: Meyer has recently finished reading a book. Yes, the whole thing.

"It was great," said the peculiar Indiana native, who, despite owning a television set and having an active social life, read every single page of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. "Especially the way things came together for Scout in the end. Very good."

According to behavioral psychologist Dr. Elizabeth Schulz, Meyer's reading of entire books is abnormal and may be indicative of a more serious obsession with reading."Instead of just zoning out during a bus ride or spending hour after hour watching YouTube videos at night, Mr. Meyer, unlike most healthy males, looks to books for gratification," Schulz said. "Really, it's a classic case of deviant behavior."

One Ring to Rule Them All

One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them…

I started reading Tolkien when I was seven or eight, and since have read everything in his Middle-Earth saga. Since then I have always wanted to see, and maybe even have the One Ring*. Last night was my first exposure to Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle operas. I was struck by the many similarities between Tolkien's and Wagner’s work. Before talking about them, I want to note that Tolkien would not appreciate the comparison. He hated being compared to Wagner, and didn’t like the man much either. When the Sweedish translator for The Lord of the Rings compared the rings in Tolkien and Wagner’s works, Tolkien responded “Both rings were round, and there the resemblance ceases”. However, the similarities between the two, on the surface at least, are obvious. Both storylines include: rings that bring untold powers to their possessors, moral and physical stretching, pain, and change for those who bear the rings, broken swords are remade; grey deities wander the earth, dragons with vulnerable spots guarding treasures, etc.

The idea of a ring of power is not original to either of them, we can trace it back through the corridors of time for quite a distance. Both Tolkien and Wagner cite Norse and other mythologies as sources of inspiration. Indeed the Norse Volsunga Saga (13th century I think) contains the story of the Andvaranaut ring that was stolen from its owner, brought riches and power to its bearer, and was cursed to bring tragedy to any who wore it. The Austrian Nibelungenlied and the similar Icelandic Poetic Edda and Völuspà (6-7th century) also contain stories of rings, dragons, treasures, etc that both Wagner and Tolkien draw from. Greek Mythology also has a story about a ring of power. The story of Gyges’ Ring is cited by Plato, Herodotus, Plutarch, and Cicero. Gyges was a sheepherder until he stole a solid gold magical ring that made him invisible when he put it on, it also enabled him to seize control of Lydia and become the first tyrant of the ancient world. Historical records show that Gyges really was king of Lydia in the 8th century BCE, so I might have to go back a long ways to find the original one ring.

Finding the ring is less interesting than tracing the idea through history. I certainly don’t know and haven’t touched on all of the legends that contain this idea, and it may be that many of the myths and stories mentioned evolved independently of each other. Indeed literature often manifests this repetition of themes; there is even a school of literary criticism that studies how various archetypes are woven in stories throughout the ages. Tolkien himself was one who believed that stories, legends, and myths were reflections of archetypes. Unlike some in the school of thought, Tolkien believed that literary types are reflections of true eternal archetypes. Tolkien said “History and Legend taken together lead us to the true myth: the Incarnation of Jesus Christ.” Indeed Tolkien’s conversion of the then atheist C.S. Lewis came about largely along these lines of reasoning. Lewis saw that many, even almost all cultures have creation, flood, and other common myths. He concluded that everyone made them up to explain questions that they couldn’t or didn’t want to answer rationally. Tolkien took the opposite position, and eventually convinced Lewis that each of these legends and explanations is really only a reflection, of one True Myth. I tend to agree with Tolkien that the great themes of myth, legend, and literature have their birth in real human experience. Thus I believe that so many cultures have myths about a flood because at some point there was a huge flood. This belief leads me back to the original question of this post … where is the original Ring of Power? Has there ever been a ring that gave its bearer great power and wealth?

Well the only answer I can find to that isn’t very romantic, but indeed, ancient ruler’s rings, especially solid gold rings, came to symbolize their power. In many instances, the King’s signet was used as a stamp to mint coinage, thus whoever had the King’s ring could create wealth and buy power. In ancient Greece and Persia, rings were sometimes used as money prior to coins. I conclude this post with a fitting poem about the search for the ring from Bilbo Baggins himself:

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

--Bilbo Baggins

*While I don’t think I ever really believed in a ring of power’s concrete existence, a comical family anecdote may have fueled this search: My mother was never much of a Tolkien fan until she met my father, who is a Tolkien fanatic. He converted her thorougly enough during their courtship that she had the words “My Precious” inscribed on the inside of his golden wedding band that he wears to this day.

David Bednar vs Oprah Winfrey?

My sister and I both graduated in the last couple of weeks. I attended the commencement ceremonies both at BYU and at Stanford. The commencement speakers at the two events appeared to be about as different as possible. David A Bednar, the calm academic LDS Apostle was asked to speak at BYU, while Oprah Winfrey, the lively Chicago native talk show host was asked to speak at Stanford. Their styles of delivery could not have been more different. Elder Bednar speaks very correctly, succinctly, and concisely – like an academic well trained in public speaking. Oprah is also well trained albeit in a very different style. She is boisterous, hip, and engaging in her tone and diction. She sounds anything but academic, and appealed much more to the emotion of the crowd than Elder Bednar did.

Elder Bednar’s speech focused on learning to love education, and on learning to serve using our education, he also touched on following the spirit and being happy. I could not have been more surprised when Oprah stood up and said that she wanted to talk about three things: following your feelings, serving with your education, and being happy. Despite their radically different modes of presentation, their basic message to the graduating class of ’08 was exactly the same! In speaking with a few others who attended both ceremonies they confirmed my feeling that the two speeches were really harping on the same exact themes.

This has given me cause to reflect on the various costumes and make-up that truth can wear around us and has taught me a valuable lesson about learning that neither Elder Bednar not Oprah touched on. I am used to receiving truth wearing a certain style of clothes. Generally I find the way academic and religious truth is presented to me help me to understand and internalize their relative weight and importance. However, what a tragedy it would be for me or anyone else to shut out entire other modes of presenting ideas, and truths merely because the ideas are dressed up differently with perhaps more make-up. I don’t mean to imply that all modes of presenting ideas are equal, or that the presentation doesn’t matter – I believe that it does – but filtering through the presentation to determine the merit of the message is important. In the words of Dallin Oaks, tolerance is a way of reacting to diversity, not a command to isolate it from careful inspection. In our daily peripatetic, we ought to react with tolerance to various modes of presenting information, and subject them all to careful inspection. Certainly we ought to the allocate our time and efforts into those studies that appear more profitable, but never to the out right exclusion of other possibilities for learning.

Bush, Irresponsability, and Money

As we are coming up on the elections, I want to air the grievance that has bothered me the most about our last eight years of government. This isn’t something that any of the candidates are talking about much, largely I fear because they plan to continue the alarming trend towards governmental and fiscal irresponsibility.

As of April 2008, The US National deficit stood at $9.5 trillion. When President George W Bush’s administration took control in January of 2001, the deficit was $1.2 trillion. Staggering! While small, modest national debts are actually good things for governments, this has gotten out of hand. Just prior to Bush’s election, the nation had recorded a series of record budget surpluses, and the economic forecast looked rosy. Bush had based his campaign promises on the likely continuation of strong economic conditions. The three heads of his campaign promise monster were cutting taxes, strengthening national defense, and adding prescription drug benefits to Medicare. In 2000 these were reasonable promises, and spending the almost embarrassingly large surplus was an important priority. Almost immediately after Bush took control, post 9/11 America greatly changed the reality of the situation. In one year, a $127 billion surplus became a $158 deficit. While some spending was necessary in anti terrorism measures, and economic stimulus, the administration failed to adjust spending and the programs needed by the nation in accordance with prevailing conditions, and worse, our government fell in love with spending irresponsibly.

A few examples will highlight the fiscal mess our capital has become. In Dec 2001 a $60 billion transportation bill past that most of us remember as an airline bailout. That portion of the bill was needed, but much of the spending in the bill was political “pork” – that is spending on Congressmen’s pet programs for constituents. The bill passed almost unanimously with a blind eye turned to the bill’s latter half. Worse was to come. Congress approved a bill for $250 billion in spending on agricultural subsidies that reversed earlier legislation to scale back government involvement in agriculture. Bush approved $2.35 trillion of tax cuts over ten years, one trillion of which came in his second term, well after the surpluses turned to deficits. Also after the surpluses disappeared, bush approved a $500 billion dollar prescription drug bill, which further cripples our social security and Medicare situation instead of improving it. John McCain actually led a group that tracked the use of “earmarks” which are basically ways congress directs money into congressman’s individual projects – the above mentioned political pork. Some of these projects are probably justifiable and needed; however, they are also notorious for the corruption often involved in their appropriation – this is what the scandal over lobbyists and corruption in 2005 was all about. McCain found that during Clinton’s years there were about 3000 a year. During Bush’s second term, we have seen an astonishing 16,000!

What has caused such irresponsibility? In 2002 the Budget Enforcement act was set to expire. This bill basically ensured that congress used pay as you go methods, and was seen as a bulwark of congressional restraint. It was allowed to expire, and congress has basically had the attitude that deficits don’t matter since. This is tremendous short-sighted political gaming with our nation! The antidote for congressional excess is normally the presidential veto, but Bush has been afraid to use it. In his first six years in the white house he did not veto one bill! Every previous president vetoed dozens of bills, but not Bush. A Whitehouse official stated that the president did not wish to challenge house speaker Dennis Hastert because “He thinks he can control him better by not antagonizing him” so instead he lets him walk all over him and in essence has cost the nation billions of dollars that my taxes will eventually have to pay for, but has also cost us a precious check in our checks and balances system.

What I’m looking for in the 2008 election is some restraint, some control, and some governmental responsibility. Someone willing to look down the road and do what is best not for my political party now, but rather for my nation in the long run. Asking something so simple is unfortunately unrealistic.

Top 10 Things I like about Italy:

A disclaimer is probably warranted: this list is certianly incomplete, quickly thought through, and at times perhaps somewhat romanticized.

10) Strange Diseases: Italians have some fanciful ideas about fictional sicknesses that one can catch in weird ways. The two that I am most familiar with are colpo d’aria and mal di fegato. Colpo d’aria literally means hit of air. Italians, especially older Italian women, will tell you that if breeze hits you on the back of the uncovered neck, you will catch a cold. Even on hot summer days some will not allow you to open a door and a window in the same room because the resulting breeze could cause the dreaded colpo d’aria. I have been scolded more than once for failing to realize that I was creating slight air currents by opening a window or door. One especially entertaining example of this phobia came on the top of Ischia. Three of us had just reached the top all hot and sweaty when we were joined by a middle aged Italian man wearing what I only know by the French word “cagoule” – a thin hat that covers the neck and head with a large hole for the face. It was all I could do not to laugh at his precaution for the wind that often blows at the summit of climbs. Mal di fegato is just as fun as colpo d’aria: it means literally bad of liver or liver ache. Lots of things can give you liver ache: water that is too cold, water that is too hot, mixing pasta -- like putting penne and rotini in the same pot, too much oil, salty foods followed too closely by sugary foods etc. While I have never caught either of these diseases during my time in Italy, I have talked to plenty of perfectly rational Italians who are altogether convinced of their veracity – I find this so endearing.

9) Dress: Italians are vain and I love it. They look at your shoes to guess your socio-economic class, and some of them really do pour hundreds and thousands of dollars into a few articles from top designers like Gucci, Armani, Prada, Valentino, Versace etc. Even the men, perhaps especially the men, go to great lengths to care for their hair. Anecdotally, I got my hair cut in Napoli last week, and the guy out of the chair before me paid $60 for whatever he had done. On the way out, he told the barber that he would be back in 11 days. I asked if he really came back that often and the barber said of course, and that many of his clients did. Wow.

8) Beaches: I haven’t been to too many beaches, but the coolest ones I have been to have been in Italy. Just to list a few, the emerald coast in north eastern Sardegna is amazing. Lush green vegetation stops abruptly at white sand beaches that are constantly lapped by short light green water. Pescara on the Adriatic sea looks somewhat similar with miles of sandy beach stretching as far as the eye can see. Taormina on Sicily is a little rockier, but it is beautiful because of the huge cliffs that fall into the beaches just yards away from the water. Ischia has a small beach with hot springs flowing into the Mediterranean creating a unique sensation of warm water getting cooler as you swim away from the shore. Beyond the beaches themselves, there is a beach culture somewhat different from ours that is very relaxed and familial.

7) Opera: I never liked Opera before living in Italy but after a few years here it has really grown on me. The plot line of almost all operas goes something like this: a series of characters meet each other, deceive each other, fall in love, and die. While this seems simplistic perhaps, it is so Italian: highly emotive and dramatic, basically an exploration of the range of possibility in the human voice and human experience.

6) Clever Sayings and Idioms. The history of Italy is so tightly woven with the history of the Catholic church that many sayings and proverbs are related to the church: to say “too bad”, Italians say “che peccato” which means “sin”. There are scores of such examples where bible speak is integrated into Italians daily speech; however, my favorite saying comes from the heart of Rome. If someone is being two-faced, Romans unabashedly exclaim “Tu sei falso come un prete” – you are as false as a priest.

5) Museums, Churches, and other Monuments: Italy has an incomparable wealth of these as far as I know rivaled only in France and England, which it still out does. The Vatican as a whole is a remarkable masterpiece. Its museum is my favorite museum on earth with its unique blend of artifacts from the Greek and Roman world, the richest treasures of the renaissance, a wealth of gifts to the Pope from around the world, and the unforgettable Sistine chapel. Florence is remarkable; it seems to have more museums than streets, and every museum is bursting with precious art. The cathedrals in Milan, Venice, Orvieto, and of course Rome are remarkable and renowned world wide. Perhaps most amazing is that every corner you turn in Italy seems to have some treasure just waiting to tell its secrets. For example, in Genova, we ducked into a tiny little theatre to see the painted ceiling. When the man there saw our interest, he proceeded to give us a full hour tour of the small building that had a 2000 year history just as interesting and varied as her mother city’s.

4) Walks: Every Italian city, from Rome to the lowliest hamlet has a street, or several streets, designated by years of tradition as the city walk. School children, adolescents, college kids, families, couples, and the elderly all gather almost nightly around 8-10 to walk slowly up and down this street. They walk in small groups, sometimes chatting softly, but often not saying much at all, and will walk up and down the street at a snails pace ad nauseum. The younger Italians will buy a gelato and sit down in the piazza for hours. Even the partying college kids will participate in this ritual before finally hitting the bars at 1 or 2 in the morning. The walk, gelato, and piazza is really just a reflection of how they like to spend their time, and I confess to feeling somewhat the same way.

3) Gli Italiani – the people: Their almost ubiquitous dark olive skin and dark hair hints at some of the similar personalities that lay behind their Mediterranean fronts. Italians, especially in the south have an impulse towards hospitality and generosity, even with near strangers. One of my favorite things about them is their remarkable bluntness: when I gain weight here, everyone will tell me “Hey, Adam, you are getting chunky” It isn’t a joke, and they aren’t mocking, merely pointing out what they see. This doesn’t make for good negotiators, but sure is a breath of fresh air in a world starved of transparency.

2) La Dolce Vita: The Italian way of life differs greatly across Italy, but it shares many commonalities that are very attractive to me. Italians care deeply about their families, and often live with or very near their extended family their whole lives. They value friendship, and are fiercely loyal. They also value food, soccer, beauty, comfort, and pleasure. They don’t work nearly as much as we do, and are comfortable in smaller homes and with smaller cars – two things we Americans love to spend our money on. Italians would rather buy a nice dinner and a nice vacation once a year. Italians are generally all extreme pacifists, with good religious intentions, but little true commitment. Their way of life is laid back, and seeks to enjoy the dolce in life.

1) Food: if it is shallow to put food at the top of this list, so be it. Food in Italy is much more than edible materials that get put into mouths; rather food is a philosophy, a daily celebration of life, a nearly sacred ritual. The great food in Italy is generally the poor or the layman’s food. Many of the best dishes only have 3 or 4 ingredients and are incredibly simple to make. The variety from region to region is large, but everywhere, Italian cooking is the center of the day. They are proud of their food, and just as proud of the way they enjoy it. I have been at lunches that lasted six hours. I will never forget they day that we never got up from a lunch when an Italian woman who had graciously invited us for lunch said, “well, its about dinner time, should I put the water on to boil.” When I first arrived in Italy as a missionary I made the mistake of saying something that lumped all pasta in the same category, Angelo Melone who was driving us somewhere promptly let me know that “Tortellini and Tortelloni and not at all the same thing” -- in all actuality, they are only different by about a half an inch of diameter, but to an Italian each food has a specific way of being prepared and served that differentiate it from all others. One of the things I most appreciate is the pace of eating. When you go to an Italian restaurant, you don’t eat, you rent a table. That table is yours as long as you care to stay. Today after we finished eating, the waiter took the plates, and we chatted for a half an hour or more, but had we not asked for the check, no one would have bothered us until closing time some hours later. Food in Italy is about being together and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

Ischia, Napoli, Genova

After a great morning run through the surrounding forest and the cities two castles, we took our leave of the convent and Assisi and took the train down to Napoli. We got the cheapest possible ticket, which meant that we stopped in every imaginable town, hamlet, and farmhouse. The trip was made even longer when an older woman fainted on the train and we waited until an ambulance came to take her off. Anyways, Garibaldi station and piazza Garibaldi in Naples were just as crazy as I remember them from four years ago. The construction on the square still is going on just like it was when I got to Napoli, and no progress appears to have been made either. We had a great pizza and got on the ferry to the Island of Ischia. Just being back in Napoli was a lot of fun for me. It is really its own micro-culutre, and basically its own language… I had forgotten how different it really is. When we got to the hostel, none of the management was there, so we walked in, took keys and sheets, and went up to find a pair of beds. The manager didn’t seem to mind in the least when he got there.

We rented motorini the next morning, which has been the highlight of the trip… don’t worry mom, I only drove between lanes of traffic a few times. A cool girl from Oregon named Shawn joined us for the day’s adventures. We took the motorini around the whole island. We stopped at some hot springs that flow straight into the Mediterranean for a very warm dip, we climbed to the top of the volcanic mountain, stopped and swam at a few other beaches, as well as some little towns and the island’s castle. Lunch was especially spectacular. I had homemade Gnocchi alla Sorrentina that was divine. Shawn’s carbonara was also remarkable. We grabbed a few balls of mozzarella di buffala as well, and they were quickly re-enthroned as my favorite food. The next morning, after one last scooter ride through the tiny alleyways that were often only three feet wide, we headed back to Napoli.

After some Pizza at settesoldi, I got a haircut, brad bought a suit, and we both got some new ties. We hiked back up into the centro storico to go visit some of my mission friends and converts. We were able to see Anna, Gaetano, Umberto, and Meri. I was thrilled to see them all, and they were happy reunions. Umberto made us some great past’al brodo. I loved walking through the streets that I had spent so much time on. I had forgotten just how dirty, run down, and dangerous they are, but being back was truly thrilling.

We took the night train up to Genova. We arrived exhausted and were greeted by some heavy rains. Genovese focaccia quickly woke us up though, and after leaving our things at the hostel, we took a boat ride around the Genovese ports, and then visited the San Lorenzo cathedral, the Palazzo Ducale, and the rest of down town Genova. That night we met up with fellow BYU Italian student instructors, Debora Marzano and Drew Horton with their spouses and had gelato together while sitting in the main square. Saturday was a dream of a day. We met up with one of Brad’s mission friends who lives in Genova, and he gave us a brief, but very informative tour of the city, and then took us out to Lunch at a terrific sea food place overhanging the Mediterranean in the posh Nevri neighborhood. The food was great, as were the view and the company. Brad’s friend named Roberto works in the Italian government’s antimafia group, and sings in operas part time. He is quite a character. After lunch, Brad and I went for a hike up amongst Genova’s string of castles that sit on the hills surrounding the city. This one of the most beautiful hikes I have ever been on. Church today in Genova was a lot of fun. I am staying with Deborah and her husband Dave at their house not far from the port tonight.

Memories

I have often been surprised as I have returned to former homes and residences by the things that I had remembered about those places. I have often been even more surprised by the things that I somehow didn't remember that are shockingly apparent.

For example, the first time that I went back to France I was shocked to remember the often poor behavior of French children, as well as the graffiti, and often dirty streets. I had simply blocked out these negative aspects, and subconsciously only remembered the more positive things I love about France. Not that these things really tarnish, or change my perception of France as a whole, but it is strange that I am simply ommited these elements from my memories.

I was back in Wisconsin twice this winter, again I was surprised that I had simply blocked out memories of things I didn’t like very much there. I am now in Naples for the first time in three years. I had forgotten how different the Neapolitan dialect is from Italian. I had forgotten how much trash is simply piled up everywhere. I had forgotten that every time you step into the street, you take your life into your hands – but if you don’t just step into the street, you will never get across it.

This kind of selective memory certainly does not only apply to places, just I seem to have a strong tendency to associate positive memories with places. Some people seem to selectively remember details about relationships, instructions, things that they don’t want to do, etc.

So I am wondering, does everyone tend to remember the positive of their experiences? I wouldn’t think so, but I don’t know… I can think of some people who seem to remember only the negative. So what determines this important difference? I assume that there is some form of a choice involved, but perhaps also some environmental formation from the perception of those around us.