Tuesday, April 06, 2004
boom. Boom. BOOM.
Jonah is home this week for the holidays. Mixed benefits. It means that I no longer have two hours of quiet time, while the baby sleeps. But it also means no crunch to get Jonah ready for the school bus, no lunch to pack, and no one hour long trip to get him home. We lolled around in pajamas until 9:00 this morning.
How do full time working parents deal with a school schedule that does not match a work schedule?
This morning before we ran out to the chores, a new monster entered Apt. 11D. It was the Big Butt monster. This evil creature sporting an usually large glutus maximus chases young children into their parent's bedroom where she crushes them with her especially large ass. Kettle drums announce the presence of the approaching doom. boom. Boom. BOOM. Screams of pure terror.
If Big Butt is particularly cranky that day, she pulls out one of her eight tentacles, a la Dr. Octopus, and tickles the flattened young 'un until he cries for mercy. Or gets the hiccups. Whatever comes first.
OK. No real post today. Working on research papers and reading all of works of Arlie Hochschild. Here's a good quote from the The Second Shift:
The influx of women into the economy has not been accompanied by a cultural understanding of marriage and work that would make this transition smooth. The workforce has changed. Women have changed. But most workplaces have remained inflexible in the face of family demands of their workers, and at home, most men have yet to really adapt to the changes in women. This strain between the change in women and the absence of change in much else leads me to speak of a ‘stalled revolution.’
Read this
Gordon Wood discusses the marriages of the founding fathers. Winner of the cool marriage award goes to... drum roll... the Adams. In the last paragraph, he notes that the famous quote by Abagail, "remember the ladies" has been totally taken out of context. She was teasing him. Darn, it was such a good line.
Wood adds, To conceive of Abigail as somehow yearning to be like her husband is not only anachronistic, it is also trivializing and demeaning of her domestic character--as if the male model of political activity were the only standard of worth.
Jonah is home this week for the holidays. Mixed benefits. It means that I no longer have two hours of quiet time, while the baby sleeps. But it also means no crunch to get Jonah ready for the school bus, no lunch to pack, and no one hour long trip to get him home. We lolled around in pajamas until 9:00 this morning.
How do full time working parents deal with a school schedule that does not match a work schedule?
This morning before we ran out to the chores, a new monster entered Apt. 11D. It was the Big Butt monster. This evil creature sporting an usually large glutus maximus chases young children into their parent's bedroom where she crushes them with her especially large ass. Kettle drums announce the presence of the approaching doom. boom. Boom. BOOM. Screams of pure terror.
If Big Butt is particularly cranky that day, she pulls out one of her eight tentacles, a la Dr. Octopus, and tickles the flattened young 'un until he cries for mercy. Or gets the hiccups. Whatever comes first.
OK. No real post today. Working on research papers and reading all of works of Arlie Hochschild. Here's a good quote from the The Second Shift:
The influx of women into the economy has not been accompanied by a cultural understanding of marriage and work that would make this transition smooth. The workforce has changed. Women have changed. But most workplaces have remained inflexible in the face of family demands of their workers, and at home, most men have yet to really adapt to the changes in women. This strain between the change in women and the absence of change in much else leads me to speak of a ‘stalled revolution.’
Read this
Gordon Wood discusses the marriages of the founding fathers. Winner of the cool marriage award goes to... drum roll... the Adams. In the last paragraph, he notes that the famous quote by Abagail, "remember the ladies" has been totally taken out of context. She was teasing him. Darn, it was such a good line.
Wood adds, To conceive of Abigail as somehow yearning to be like her husband is not only anachronistic, it is also trivializing and demeaning of her domestic character--as if the male model of political activity were the only standard of worth.
Monday, April 05, 2004
Talkin' About M-m-m-my Generation
Lipitor. Xantax. Viagra. Who cares?
Why aren’t there more domestic policy proposals that meet the needs of Gen Xers? Why aren’t we (born between 1965 and 1980) demanding social policy that meets our needs, rather than the needs of our parents? Why is the prescription drug program for the elderly the only recent major public policy?
As Gen Xers become parents, they need policies that will alleviate the high costs of raising children. (See the recent article in Washington Monthly, pointed to me by Matthew and Russell.) The article notes that parents with children under 18 accounted for 39 percent of all votes cast in the last presidential election, while persons over 65 accounted for only 14%. They should be making a stronger case for themselves. The Washington Monthly article proposes a substantial tax relief and extra benefits to married parents who raise their children. I’ve got a few more ideas.
Home costs are out of reach for the first time buyers and the young. We need assistance programs for this group and additional housing built in major metropolitan regions.
Nursery school is no longer optional with the growing pressure on young students, the need to compete in the new economy, and the number of working mothers. However, only a few states offer subsidized pre-K. You don’t want to nursery school to be mandatory? Fine, make it optional, but you know that 99.9% parents would take advantage of it. Even mediocre programs, like my son’s, allow him a chance to socialize and learn about classroom rules, which will give him a big head start in Kindergarten. And even mediocre, part-time programs right now are extremely expensive.
Gen-Xers who don’t have children or homes also have distinct interests from AARP’s constituency. Most of my friends are absolutely certain that they will never receive social security benefits or the amount will be too small to cover the rent. They resent the deductions in their paycheck that won’t benefit them. Serious plans need to be put into place to reassure this skeptical and vulnerable generation about retirement.
School loans are a growing burden. Many Gen-Xers are still paying off the costs of graduate programs, which are required by many workplaces. Loan forgiveness programs should be put into place.
This prescription drug plan is going to cost $534 billion. What other things could we be doing with that money?
Read This
Strike the housing proposal. Maureen Ryan of the Chicago Tribune just pointed me to an article in Washington Monthly that says the whole market is going down the toilet and then won't the family that out bid us yesterday (for the fifth time) be sorry.
(And thanks, Maureen. Looking forward to the Farscape finale.)
David Brooks may paint life with broad brush strokes, but he is certainly entertaining. Read his article in the Times on the restless American spirit which drives us towards the soulless suburban developments. He describes different types of suburban communities ...
Then a few miles away, you might find yourself in an entirely different cultural zone, in an upscale suburban town center packed with restaurants -- one of those communities that perform the neat trick of being clearly suburban while still making it nearly impossible to park. The people here tend to be lawyers, doctors and professors, and they drive around in Volvos, Audis and Saabs because it is socially acceptable to buy a luxury car as long as it comes from a country hostile to U.S. foreign policy.
Here you can find your Trader Joe's grocery stores, where all the cashiers look as if they are on loan from Amnesty International and all the snack food is especially designed for kids who come home from school screaming, ''Mom, I want a snack that will prevent colorectal cancer!''
Lipitor. Xantax. Viagra. Who cares?
Why aren’t there more domestic policy proposals that meet the needs of Gen Xers? Why aren’t we (born between 1965 and 1980) demanding social policy that meets our needs, rather than the needs of our parents? Why is the prescription drug program for the elderly the only recent major public policy?
As Gen Xers become parents, they need policies that will alleviate the high costs of raising children. (See the recent article in Washington Monthly, pointed to me by Matthew and Russell.) The article notes that parents with children under 18 accounted for 39 percent of all votes cast in the last presidential election, while persons over 65 accounted for only 14%. They should be making a stronger case for themselves. The Washington Monthly article proposes a substantial tax relief and extra benefits to married parents who raise their children. I’ve got a few more ideas.
Home costs are out of reach for the first time buyers and the young. We need assistance programs for this group and additional housing built in major metropolitan regions.
Nursery school is no longer optional with the growing pressure on young students, the need to compete in the new economy, and the number of working mothers. However, only a few states offer subsidized pre-K. You don’t want to nursery school to be mandatory? Fine, make it optional, but you know that 99.9% parents would take advantage of it. Even mediocre programs, like my son’s, allow him a chance to socialize and learn about classroom rules, which will give him a big head start in Kindergarten. And even mediocre, part-time programs right now are extremely expensive.
Gen-Xers who don’t have children or homes also have distinct interests from AARP’s constituency. Most of my friends are absolutely certain that they will never receive social security benefits or the amount will be too small to cover the rent. They resent the deductions in their paycheck that won’t benefit them. Serious plans need to be put into place to reassure this skeptical and vulnerable generation about retirement.
School loans are a growing burden. Many Gen-Xers are still paying off the costs of graduate programs, which are required by many workplaces. Loan forgiveness programs should be put into place.
This prescription drug plan is going to cost $534 billion. What other things could we be doing with that money?
Read This
Strike the housing proposal. Maureen Ryan of the Chicago Tribune just pointed me to an article in Washington Monthly that says the whole market is going down the toilet and then won't the family that out bid us yesterday (for the fifth time) be sorry.
(And thanks, Maureen. Looking forward to the Farscape finale.)
David Brooks may paint life with broad brush strokes, but he is certainly entertaining. Read his article in the Times on the restless American spirit which drives us towards the soulless suburban developments. He describes different types of suburban communities ...
Then a few miles away, you might find yourself in an entirely different cultural zone, in an upscale suburban town center packed with restaurants -- one of those communities that perform the neat trick of being clearly suburban while still making it nearly impossible to park. The people here tend to be lawyers, doctors and professors, and they drive around in Volvos, Audis and Saabs because it is socially acceptable to buy a luxury car as long as it comes from a country hostile to U.S. foreign policy.
Here you can find your Trader Joe's grocery stores, where all the cashiers look as if they are on loan from Amnesty International and all the snack food is especially designed for kids who come home from school screaming, ''Mom, I want a snack that will prevent colorectal cancer!''
Sunday, April 04, 2004
A Thin Veil of Privacy
I’ve been nursing a hacking cough all weekend. On Saturday night, I settled in front of the TV and watched Rear Window for the tenth time.
Great movie. Grace Kelly has the most amazing clothes. She floats around in great poofy taffeta numbers swirling brandy in snifters. I curled up on the sofa in jeans drinking bourbon on ice – an acceptable remedy for a tickly cough.
There are some cool lines in the movie. Grace storms to the door after Jimmy Stewart tells her that their relationship has no future. He says, “can’t we leave things at status quo for a while?” She says no. She won’t be coming back. “That is, until tomorrow night.’ And slams the door.
Seeing your neighbors is such a New York thing. My last apartment was a small studio with one large window that looked right into an adjacent apartment. I was so close that I could read the titles on the spines of his books.
At first, I never really noticed what was going on in my neighbor’s apartment. I could see him moving about, but I wasn’t really watching, until one day when my friend, Susan, was over. She said, he’s watching porn in there. Sure enough, his TV, which was clearly in view from my large window, showed some serious girl on girl action. Oh. Whatever.
Okay, now I was paying attention. He seemed to watch a lot of it, particularly when I had a friend over. It didn’t stop there.
Soon he started walking around in his tidy whities while watching the porn. A few weeks later he had progressed to decorative underwear – a blue thong, I think. He would pause frequently in front of his window to make sure that I had seen him. I guess that I wasn’t suitably impressed, because soon he stopped wearing underwear all together.
Now I was getting a little nervous. A naked porn exhibitionist has only one place left to go. I talked about with friends from work. They suggested holding up numbers like an Olympic judge to embarrass him. One serious feminist friend thought I should throw a rock through his window.
Sure enough. Two weeks later. I came home from work, sat down in my arm chair next to the window, and my neighbor took his exhibitionism to the next level. I slammed the shade shut and called the cops.
The cops were not at all helpful. They told me that I had to live in the dark, never pull up my shade, and not confront the jerk.
It all turned out okay. He moved out a week later. I guess pleasuring himself was his farewell gift to me. How thoughtful.
I guess what disturbed me most about the whole incident was that my neighbor had passed a line, an unwritten rule of New York living. See your neighbor, but don’t really watch. Do not acknowledge each other. And certainly don't perform for them. You may only be inches apart with your lives open to inspection, but you are strangers. I take great comfort in that invisible line, that thin veil of privacy. My neighbor crossed the line in a more serious way that Jimmy Stewart with his telephoto lens and binoculars.
I’ve been nursing a hacking cough all weekend. On Saturday night, I settled in front of the TV and watched Rear Window for the tenth time.
Great movie. Grace Kelly has the most amazing clothes. She floats around in great poofy taffeta numbers swirling brandy in snifters. I curled up on the sofa in jeans drinking bourbon on ice – an acceptable remedy for a tickly cough.
There are some cool lines in the movie. Grace storms to the door after Jimmy Stewart tells her that their relationship has no future. He says, “can’t we leave things at status quo for a while?” She says no. She won’t be coming back. “That is, until tomorrow night.’ And slams the door.
Seeing your neighbors is such a New York thing. My last apartment was a small studio with one large window that looked right into an adjacent apartment. I was so close that I could read the titles on the spines of his books.
At first, I never really noticed what was going on in my neighbor’s apartment. I could see him moving about, but I wasn’t really watching, until one day when my friend, Susan, was over. She said, he’s watching porn in there. Sure enough, his TV, which was clearly in view from my large window, showed some serious girl on girl action. Oh. Whatever.
Okay, now I was paying attention. He seemed to watch a lot of it, particularly when I had a friend over. It didn’t stop there.
Soon he started walking around in his tidy whities while watching the porn. A few weeks later he had progressed to decorative underwear – a blue thong, I think. He would pause frequently in front of his window to make sure that I had seen him. I guess that I wasn’t suitably impressed, because soon he stopped wearing underwear all together.
Now I was getting a little nervous. A naked porn exhibitionist has only one place left to go. I talked about with friends from work. They suggested holding up numbers like an Olympic judge to embarrass him. One serious feminist friend thought I should throw a rock through his window.
Sure enough. Two weeks later. I came home from work, sat down in my arm chair next to the window, and my neighbor took his exhibitionism to the next level. I slammed the shade shut and called the cops.
The cops were not at all helpful. They told me that I had to live in the dark, never pull up my shade, and not confront the jerk.
It all turned out okay. He moved out a week later. I guess pleasuring himself was his farewell gift to me. How thoughtful.
I guess what disturbed me most about the whole incident was that my neighbor had passed a line, an unwritten rule of New York living. See your neighbor, but don’t really watch. Do not acknowledge each other. And certainly don't perform for them. You may only be inches apart with your lives open to inspection, but you are strangers. I take great comfort in that invisible line, that thin veil of privacy. My neighbor crossed the line in a more serious way that Jimmy Stewart with his telephoto lens and binoculars.
Friday, April 02, 2004
More Links
Bush wows America's youth.
Josh Chafetz of Oxblog reviews John Podhoretz's Bush Country.
Novels set in suburbia are back in vogue.
Over strenuous objections from the White House, the Senate voted on Tuesday for a significant increase in money to provide child care to welfare recipients and other low-income families.
Bush wows America's youth.
Josh Chafetz of Oxblog reviews John Podhoretz's Bush Country.
Novels set in suburbia are back in vogue.
Over strenuous objections from the White House, the Senate voted on Tuesday for a significant increase in money to provide child care to welfare recipients and other low-income families.
Extending Family
A nice, little family lives in the green house to the right of my parent's home. Whenever we visit my folks, our boys play together in the backyard. Last month, the nice, little family told us that they are moving back to Greece to be closer to family. They find it too difficult to raise their two boys on their own. They want the support and community of a big extended family.
I understand. Raising kids is an enormous amount of work, especially if you are on your own. Once a week, I get together with my sister and her kids or stop by my mother's. It's so much easier. Our kids play together in the backyard. The kids entertain each other. We cook a meal or order pizza together. When we're sick, my mom comes by a pot of chicken soup.
Sure that means that our lives are open to scrunity. My mom can't help but make comments that I shouldn't be letting Jonah wear the grubby panda shirt to school or that Ian should not be allowed to come into bed with us. The pot of soup is heavily seasoned with guilt.
But when there's a crisis, the family circles the wagons and protects the injured party. There is a hundred percent of support and open wallets to remedy the situation. And when there's cause for celebration, we do it up properly without jealousy or restraint.
I've certainly taken my extended family for granted over the years. Even escaping to Chicago for a couple of years for some relief. But now that I have my own family, I can understand why the nice, little family is moving closer to their relatives. Even if our parents, sisters, and cousins drive us crazy, we need 'em.
Links
I've been thinking a lot about Fallujah, even if I haven't been writing about it. I've been trying to get my mind around the mob that hung charred corpses from a bridge. Read Megan McArdle's amazingly sane assessment of the event.
A nice, little family lives in the green house to the right of my parent's home. Whenever we visit my folks, our boys play together in the backyard. Last month, the nice, little family told us that they are moving back to Greece to be closer to family. They find it too difficult to raise their two boys on their own. They want the support and community of a big extended family.
I understand. Raising kids is an enormous amount of work, especially if you are on your own. Once a week, I get together with my sister and her kids or stop by my mother's. It's so much easier. Our kids play together in the backyard. The kids entertain each other. We cook a meal or order pizza together. When we're sick, my mom comes by a pot of chicken soup.
Sure that means that our lives are open to scrunity. My mom can't help but make comments that I shouldn't be letting Jonah wear the grubby panda shirt to school or that Ian should not be allowed to come into bed with us. The pot of soup is heavily seasoned with guilt.
But when there's a crisis, the family circles the wagons and protects the injured party. There is a hundred percent of support and open wallets to remedy the situation. And when there's cause for celebration, we do it up properly without jealousy or restraint.
I've certainly taken my extended family for granted over the years. Even escaping to Chicago for a couple of years for some relief. But now that I have my own family, I can understand why the nice, little family is moving closer to their relatives. Even if our parents, sisters, and cousins drive us crazy, we need 'em.
Links
I've been thinking a lot about Fallujah, even if I haven't been writing about it. I've been trying to get my mind around the mob that hung charred corpses from a bridge. Read Megan McArdle's amazingly sane assessment of the event.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
It's a journal entry kind of day here at Apt. 11D. No politics or social commentary. I've been fighting off a cold all week, but today the cold got a burst of strength and forced me into an headlock. Bastard.
Sent Jonah off to school today wearing his ragged panda shirt. I've been letting him pick out his own clothes in the morning and he always goes for the ragged panda shirt. I thought that chosing his clothes would encourage him to mix and match colors and patterns. It would be a creative exercise. Unleash his hidden metrosexual. No. It's just the ragged panda shirt every time.
And Ian has entered the delightful stage of repetitive actions. Open and shut the cupboard door. Open and shut. Open and shut. At my mom's, he has to study how the dishwasher shelf sits on the rollers and slides in and out. Then we have to practice the clasp on the high chair a million times. He's impossible to distract. He grins widely after hearing the click of the high chair clasp, and grunts until I undo it for him, so that he can hear that satisfying click once more.
The rain, a sore throat, and the in and out of high chair clasps has me out of sorts today. It's really best to not write too much. A couple of links, and I'm done for the night. Thinking about a post tomorrow on Gen X and politics.
Links
Riffing off of my post on chosing a local public school for my kid, Jay at Moment Linger On ponders the impact of college choices and opportunity. Though he hates to admit it, "perks and pedigree still count for something in this country."
The New York Press had a mildly amusing piece on the 50 most hated New Yorkers. The list includes Sophia Coppola, described as "an art bimbo whose daddy happens to be movie royalty rides in on the tired back of Bill Murray and is proclaimed a new film genius," Joan Rivers, and the Hilton sisters. Jessica Crispin noticed it, too.
I'm not really on board with this football stadium on the Westside idea. I don't even like football. But check out this article by Steve Cuozzo from the Post. Brings up some of the stuff that I've been writing about, like the middle class in the city and the modern city v. the old city.
Sent Jonah off to school today wearing his ragged panda shirt. I've been letting him pick out his own clothes in the morning and he always goes for the ragged panda shirt. I thought that chosing his clothes would encourage him to mix and match colors and patterns. It would be a creative exercise. Unleash his hidden metrosexual. No. It's just the ragged panda shirt every time.
And Ian has entered the delightful stage of repetitive actions. Open and shut the cupboard door. Open and shut. Open and shut. At my mom's, he has to study how the dishwasher shelf sits on the rollers and slides in and out. Then we have to practice the clasp on the high chair a million times. He's impossible to distract. He grins widely after hearing the click of the high chair clasp, and grunts until I undo it for him, so that he can hear that satisfying click once more.
The rain, a sore throat, and the in and out of high chair clasps has me out of sorts today. It's really best to not write too much. A couple of links, and I'm done for the night. Thinking about a post tomorrow on Gen X and politics.
Links
Riffing off of my post on chosing a local public school for my kid, Jay at Moment Linger On ponders the impact of college choices and opportunity. Though he hates to admit it, "perks and pedigree still count for something in this country."
The New York Press had a mildly amusing piece on the 50 most hated New Yorkers. The list includes Sophia Coppola, described as "an art bimbo whose daddy happens to be movie royalty rides in on the tired back of Bill Murray and is proclaimed a new film genius," Joan Rivers, and the Hilton sisters. Jessica Crispin noticed it, too.
I'm not really on board with this football stadium on the Westside idea. I don't even like football. But check out this article by Steve Cuozzo from the Post. Brings up some of the stuff that I've been writing about, like the middle class in the city and the modern city v. the old city.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Read This
Maureen Ryan at the Chicago Tribune is taking over for Eric Zorn this week. Catch her posts on the lack of quality TV shows and Al Franken's new radio show. She also wrote a great article on suburban mom, sex shop owner, and blogger, Leigh Ann Wilson of a One Good Thing. (via Ms. Musings)
Speaking of Christine with the tricky last name, aka Ms. Musings. She's been posting some good stuff lately. Liked her observation about the personal blogs that women seem to favor. The personal is political (as a fellow blogger recently pointed out to me).
Maureen Ryan at the Chicago Tribune is taking over for Eric Zorn this week. Catch her posts on the lack of quality TV shows and Al Franken's new radio show. She also wrote a great article on suburban mom, sex shop owner, and blogger, Leigh Ann Wilson of a One Good Thing. (via Ms. Musings)
Speaking of Christine with the tricky last name, aka Ms. Musings. She's been posting some good stuff lately. Liked her observation about the personal blogs that women seem to favor. The personal is political (as a fellow blogger recently pointed out to me).
Quick Note on Bloggers
I had the opportunity to have lunch with a fellow blogger yesterday, and had a fabulous time chatting in a cafe in the Upper Westside. No details, but a quick observation. The blogosphere is amazingly decent, smart, and fun. What a nice community we've formed. Warm, fuzzy moment.
I had the opportunity to have lunch with a fellow blogger yesterday, and had a fabulous time chatting in a cafe in the Upper Westside. No details, but a quick observation. The blogosphere is amazingly decent, smart, and fun. What a nice community we've formed. Warm, fuzzy moment.
Confidence
David Brooks had a good op-ed yesterday, entitled "Stressed For Success." He counsels high school seniors waiting to hear about college acceptances that it really isn't that important. The name of your school, your SAT scores, and the number of extracurricular activities that seem so important now, really don't mean much in the long haul.
Once you reach adulthood, the key to success will not be demonstrating teacher-pleasing competence across fields; it will be finding a few things you love, and then committing yourself passionately to them.
He sees no difference in the quality of students in Penn State or Harvard. And there are quality teachers everywhere.
What he said. I've taught now at an elite university and a plebian university, and truthfully I liked the kids at the plebian university better. Sure, there were a few that couldn't write an essay or analyze a text, but for there were also some that were smarter than me. In addition to brains, they had a hunger and a drive that I never witnessed at the elite university. And because I really liked them, I bent over backwards to help them.
Though I'm many years away from the college craze, I've been getting a taste of it with my son entering kindergarten next year. Some friends can't believe that we're sending our child to the local school. It doesn't have a science lab or green playing fields. And the mix of students means that the test scores aren't the highest in the city. They are schlepping their kids around Manhattan to fancy private schools or far flung alternative schools that boast of "child centered" curriculum.
I decided that slick teaching programs and fancy perks were not so important to me. When I signed up Jonah for school last week, we knew the family in front of us and the family behind us. The school is located just around the corner, so I can scoop him up in a second if he gets sick or if there is an emergency. The teachers have been around for years; they taught some of the parents from the neighborhood. It was a warm, safe environment with low levels of competitive stress. He'll be the star in his class. The other parents are good, hard-working people who haven't spoiled their kids.
Perhaps I'm too idealistic about education. My friend, Margie, thinks I am. She says that her husband would have succeeded faster if he had gone to Harvard, rather than a state university. Name recognition and connections would have boosted him up the ladder faster. Perhaps. But, also maybe, he wouldn't have had the same drive, the same hunger and been undone early on by a sense of entitlement.
It all comes down to confidence. Not so much in the schools, but in my kid and us. I feel quite sure that my kid is smart enough to do quite well anywhere. I'm sure that we're resourceful enough to make up for any gaps in his education in school. He'll get to where he needs to go, regardless of perks and pedigree. I wish others were as cocky as me.
David Brooks had a good op-ed yesterday, entitled "Stressed For Success." He counsels high school seniors waiting to hear about college acceptances that it really isn't that important. The name of your school, your SAT scores, and the number of extracurricular activities that seem so important now, really don't mean much in the long haul.
Once you reach adulthood, the key to success will not be demonstrating teacher-pleasing competence across fields; it will be finding a few things you love, and then committing yourself passionately to them.
He sees no difference in the quality of students in Penn State or Harvard. And there are quality teachers everywhere.
What he said. I've taught now at an elite university and a plebian university, and truthfully I liked the kids at the plebian university better. Sure, there were a few that couldn't write an essay or analyze a text, but for there were also some that were smarter than me. In addition to brains, they had a hunger and a drive that I never witnessed at the elite university. And because I really liked them, I bent over backwards to help them.
Though I'm many years away from the college craze, I've been getting a taste of it with my son entering kindergarten next year. Some friends can't believe that we're sending our child to the local school. It doesn't have a science lab or green playing fields. And the mix of students means that the test scores aren't the highest in the city. They are schlepping their kids around Manhattan to fancy private schools or far flung alternative schools that boast of "child centered" curriculum.
I decided that slick teaching programs and fancy perks were not so important to me. When I signed up Jonah for school last week, we knew the family in front of us and the family behind us. The school is located just around the corner, so I can scoop him up in a second if he gets sick or if there is an emergency. The teachers have been around for years; they taught some of the parents from the neighborhood. It was a warm, safe environment with low levels of competitive stress. He'll be the star in his class. The other parents are good, hard-working people who haven't spoiled their kids.
Perhaps I'm too idealistic about education. My friend, Margie, thinks I am. She says that her husband would have succeeded faster if he had gone to Harvard, rather than a state university. Name recognition and connections would have boosted him up the ladder faster. Perhaps. But, also maybe, he wouldn't have had the same drive, the same hunger and been undone early on by a sense of entitlement.
It all comes down to confidence. Not so much in the schools, but in my kid and us. I feel quite sure that my kid is smart enough to do quite well anywhere. I'm sure that we're resourceful enough to make up for any gaps in his education in school. He'll get to where he needs to go, regardless of perks and pedigree. I wish others were as cocky as me.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Tuesday is Reader Mail Day!!
Last Friday, Melissa and I exchanged e-mails about the Time Magazine article on Stay at Home Moms. Here's how it went:
Melissa: I'm wondering what they all had to say about stay at home dad's. Of our friends out here [in San Francisco] with kids, if they have a parent who stays home, it's split about 50-50 as to whether it's the mom or the dad....
Yeah, they didn't have enough on stay at home dads. They didn't give any facts on the numbers of guys who stay home. They did have a lame sidebar that said that men want more time at home with the kids, too. But it didn't have any data that I could quote. I'm really glad to hear that the guys you know want to stay home, too. Steve would be totally into it. Go men!
Melissa: It just seems to me that so much of this is just an extension of the sexist argument that women have some natural ability to make better parents than men. By excluding information about men, the message that is sent is that stay at home dads are not worthy of mention.
Good point. Agreed.
Rebel Dad agrees, too.
Links
On the city page of the Times on line is a link (Thanks, Andrew) to wonderful pictures and interviews with the characters of the subways, including the ubiquitous Dr. Zizmor and other subway fixtures.
Good thing I watch Access Hollywood, because today I learned that William Hung, who memorably sang "She Bangs, She Bangs" on American Idol has a website where he hawks merchandise and receives marriage proposals.
Wise Words From Jonah
Mom, you know why I want to be grown up?
Why, Jonah?
Because then I can play computer and watch TV all day.
Last Friday, Melissa and I exchanged e-mails about the Time Magazine article on Stay at Home Moms. Here's how it went:
Melissa: I'm wondering what they all had to say about stay at home dad's. Of our friends out here [in San Francisco] with kids, if they have a parent who stays home, it's split about 50-50 as to whether it's the mom or the dad....
Yeah, they didn't have enough on stay at home dads. They didn't give any facts on the numbers of guys who stay home. They did have a lame sidebar that said that men want more time at home with the kids, too. But it didn't have any data that I could quote. I'm really glad to hear that the guys you know want to stay home, too. Steve would be totally into it. Go men!
Melissa: It just seems to me that so much of this is just an extension of the sexist argument that women have some natural ability to make better parents than men. By excluding information about men, the message that is sent is that stay at home dads are not worthy of mention.
Good point. Agreed.
Rebel Dad agrees, too.
Links
On the city page of the Times on line is a link (Thanks, Andrew) to wonderful pictures and interviews with the characters of the subways, including the ubiquitous Dr. Zizmor and other subway fixtures.
Good thing I watch Access Hollywood, because today I learned that William Hung, who memorably sang "She Bangs, She Bangs" on American Idol has a website where he hawks merchandise and receives marriage proposals.
Wise Words From Jonah
Mom, you know why I want to be grown up?
Why, Jonah?
Because then I can play computer and watch TV all day.
