Thursday, October 11, 2012
On Being a Parent
I admit that I have been naive about parenting from the get-go. For some reason I thought babies stopped crying when they reached the 3 month mark. (That was akin to thinking that nausea stopped after the first 3 months of pregnancy). That was just the first of many things I thought I knew, and after 41 years, I’m still learning.
Aside from the millions of things I learned about parenting during the kids’ growing-up years, my next big educational moment came when they left for college. I expected to miss them, and I did. I didn’t expect to have to still discipline them, but an episode of driving (a very short distance, admittedly) after having too much to drink prompted the removal of car privileges at night for part of one summer.
On the other hand, there were plenty of demonstrations of adulthood at that point, such as barring me from attending appointments at the cardiologist, and finding jobs, roommates and places to live. These latter things I took for granted, something that parents of college graduates in recent years have not been able to do.
Thinking the kids safely launched, I believed my active parenting days were over. Oh sure, the phone still rang asking for a recipe or advice on cooking a turkey. Sometimes there were questions about a (grand)child’s developmental stage. When marriage difficulties occurred and a divorce ensued, my parenting became more active again.
Over the years, I have tried, and definitely not always successfully, to keep my mouth shut unless asked; to help think through the pros and cons of a situation; to be involved but not interfering and to be there to offer support, no matter what situation arose. Occasionally I have been able to offer financial support, usually in the form of a loan.
Nothing has reminded me more of my status as a continuing parent, than my daughter’s second pregnancy. I would rather be going through pregnancy again myself, than to witness her struggle in the last few weeks, particularly, when hip pain has become acute, labor pains have come and gone, worrisome data came out of one ultrasound (proved later to be unfounded), and in general, life has become much harder for her.
I am so delighted to be able to help out, and wish there was more I could do. She is now 5 days past her due date, and completely sleep deprived. She can barely walk, and bravely soldiers on. I can’t decide whether it’s harder to be at her house to witness all of it first hand, or harder to be at my house, not helping. Regardless of my location, I worry and lie awake myself in the wee hours. And I guess that trait will mark me for life as a parent. Or anyway as a mom.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Slow
It's a rainy Sunday afternoon, and since it's the last day of September, I thought I would add some thoughts to my blog. My life seems to be moving in slow motion these days, partly because I have nothing I HAVE to do, and each day I can pick from a smorgasbord of options from small to grandiose. Usually I pick from small, and at the end of the day wonder why I didn't choose grandiose. Oh well!
One of the joys of having the day stretch ahead of me is the opportunity to read more. I just finished a fascinating book called God's Hotel, a nonfiction book by a woman doctor who also has a PhD in the history of medicine and who practiced medicine at a hospital which was the last refuge for the poor and the elderly. Now I never would have thought that a return to the Middle Ages for medical treatment would seem like a good idea, but I loved how she discovered the work of Hildegard of Bingen, a German nun who not only composed music, but also served as a healer. In Hildegard's time, herbal medicine, and paying attention to the body's balance of the 4 humors as well as how the body was interacting with the 4 elements, earth, air, fire and water led to her treatment options.
Compared to modern medicine, Hildegard's methods were crude and inefficient. On the other hand, when the author began to think like Hildegard, she found herself first sitting with patients and quietly observing them; touching their hands, looking at their scars, and talking with them if they were conscious, all before reading their case history. Many times, this fifteen minutes of close observation would inform her further treatment of the patient.
Many would say that this method is highly inefficient, that modern tests, x-rays, MRIs, CT scans yield everything the doctor needs to know. In fact, Hildegard's method was the first step in creating a relationship with a patient, and the author came to believe that the secret of healing a patient depended on the doctor-patient relationship. To use modern terms, this would be described as "slow medicine."
All of this was in the back of my mind when I saw two gentlemen interviewed on the News Hour about the decline in SAT scores. One man represented Educational Testing Service (ETS), the folks who have made millions on SATs, CEEB Achievement Tests, GREs and all the other alphabet soups of tests. His take on the situation: Students need to be held to higher standards and take a more rigorous curriculum. He re-stated this as his answer to several questions.
I have a different take on the situation: Students taking SATs this year have been subjected to 10 years or so of "teaching to the tests" required by No Child Left Behind. They have grown up in an educational system that requires memorization of facts and figures. The focus of education has narrowed, particularly in so-called "failing schools." The Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) has been demonstrated to be biased against minorities, and now, more and more students lack the exposure to breadth and depth in their education, and I would suspect have never acquired the ability to think which has helped earlier generations compete successfully on the SAT.
In general, I'm opposed to all of these tests, because like modern medical tests, they can only offer a tiny window into the individual who is taking the test and a very tiny window into what constitutes a quality educational program. We don't need more efficient methods to teach; we need inefficient methods that recognize the differences in individuals, that create a bit of organized chaos in every classroom, and that offer students the opportunity to create, collaborate and critically think. I would call this "slow education." Instead of Arne Duncan's "Race to the Top," which is really nothing more than an extension of the previous No Child Left Behind, I would like to see a return to looking much more holistically at education, and placing the student, not his/her test scores at the center of our focus.
One of the joys of having the day stretch ahead of me is the opportunity to read more. I just finished a fascinating book called God's Hotel, a nonfiction book by a woman doctor who also has a PhD in the history of medicine and who practiced medicine at a hospital which was the last refuge for the poor and the elderly. Now I never would have thought that a return to the Middle Ages for medical treatment would seem like a good idea, but I loved how she discovered the work of Hildegard of Bingen, a German nun who not only composed music, but also served as a healer. In Hildegard's time, herbal medicine, and paying attention to the body's balance of the 4 humors as well as how the body was interacting with the 4 elements, earth, air, fire and water led to her treatment options.
Compared to modern medicine, Hildegard's methods were crude and inefficient. On the other hand, when the author began to think like Hildegard, she found herself first sitting with patients and quietly observing them; touching their hands, looking at their scars, and talking with them if they were conscious, all before reading their case history. Many times, this fifteen minutes of close observation would inform her further treatment of the patient.
Many would say that this method is highly inefficient, that modern tests, x-rays, MRIs, CT scans yield everything the doctor needs to know. In fact, Hildegard's method was the first step in creating a relationship with a patient, and the author came to believe that the secret of healing a patient depended on the doctor-patient relationship. To use modern terms, this would be described as "slow medicine."
All of this was in the back of my mind when I saw two gentlemen interviewed on the News Hour about the decline in SAT scores. One man represented Educational Testing Service (ETS), the folks who have made millions on SATs, CEEB Achievement Tests, GREs and all the other alphabet soups of tests. His take on the situation: Students need to be held to higher standards and take a more rigorous curriculum. He re-stated this as his answer to several questions.
I have a different take on the situation: Students taking SATs this year have been subjected to 10 years or so of "teaching to the tests" required by No Child Left Behind. They have grown up in an educational system that requires memorization of facts and figures. The focus of education has narrowed, particularly in so-called "failing schools." The Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) has been demonstrated to be biased against minorities, and now, more and more students lack the exposure to breadth and depth in their education, and I would suspect have never acquired the ability to think which has helped earlier generations compete successfully on the SAT.
In general, I'm opposed to all of these tests, because like modern medical tests, they can only offer a tiny window into the individual who is taking the test and a very tiny window into what constitutes a quality educational program. We don't need more efficient methods to teach; we need inefficient methods that recognize the differences in individuals, that create a bit of organized chaos in every classroom, and that offer students the opportunity to create, collaborate and critically think. I would call this "slow education." Instead of Arne Duncan's "Race to the Top," which is really nothing more than an extension of the previous No Child Left Behind, I would like to see a return to looking much more holistically at education, and placing the student, not his/her test scores at the center of our focus.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Retirement for Real
I decided to return to my blog today after a long absence. It seems fitting, since I began this blog in the year I retired from teaching, and this year marks the first year of actual retirement from paid work, a transition which hasn't always been easy for me and I don't mean that in the financial sense, rather in the emotional or overthinking sense, whichever way you look at it. Perhaps my return to the blog marks my apparent coming to terms with the fact that I have all this TIME on my hands and I'm beginning to be okay with that. And, of course, it's the political season again, and there's much to comment on. Not that I'm going to go there today, though.
Some of my ponderings today have to do with why I've undergone this transition to feeling good about my life without paid work. A lot of it has to do with actually embracing the idea that I've had a lot of projects I've wanted to work on in two realms, writing/thinking and organization/sorting/disposal of a ton of family "stuff" which has come to roost at my house. I thank my son for reminding me of that, at a point where I had concluded that I needed to give myself an "assignment" otherwise I was in danger of frittering away the rest of my life. So......I decided to begin with a focus on my oldest brother, Rob's, letters with an eye toward writing about his life. He died in 1988, and in 1996 I actually conceived of a book based on his life, and took some preliminary steps to begin that, but then life and work got in the way.
Since I had loved working on my great grandmother's and great great grandmother's letters which were published by U.of Iowa in 1996, I knew I would enjoy such a project again, and it would enable me to write, think and start to sort family memorabilia, all at the same time. I now have a thick, 3-ring binder sitting beside my laptop, containing only the letters from his first year at Dartmouth, open to the next letter to read and write notes about. I'm only up to Oct. 31st, 1957 and I have already identified several recurring themes and raised several questions.
I've quickly realized, that one of the aspects of pursuing this project is that I will learn a lot about others in my family and have an opportunity to revisit my own life as I think about his. He was 8 years older than I, and so when he went off to college, I was only 10, almost 11 years old. I didn't know him very well, then, and I surely didn't spend much time thinking about what he was experiencing in college. From this vantage point, and now having been through the college experience and a lot more life experience since, I am able to read his letters within the historical and cultural context of the time period, and with much more knowledge about him as I knew him better later in his life.
Reading through these letters makes me miss him in a way that I haven't so much in recent years. There are so many questions I would like to ask him, and so much that is going on today that I would like to talk about with him about. I think this is a common lament of people who write about family members who have died. Why didn't I ask such and such when I could have? What was that story that X used to tell, but I didn't write down? In most ways, however, his letters will answer many of those questions for me.
And that brings me to the final point/question I have raised so many times as I have contemplated the boxes of letters, scrapbooks, photo albums and file folders I have inherited over the years: Why did my family become such savers of letters, in particular? That question is especially focused on the Redington (paternal) side of my family. My dad saved all of our letters home from college and wherever we may have been in the years after. In my brother, Rob's case, he also had a whole file of what he identified as "1957 Summer Prelims Before Leaving for Hanover" which includes lots of interesting documents for the researcher like me. Though mom was the apparently sentimental one of my parents, what does it say about dad that he kept all this stuff? And what does it say for all of us now that we are in the ephemeral email era? Conducting research into a person's life will be much more difficult, that I can say for sure. I'd like to think that we might pay more attention to our family members and our familial relationships in the present moment, and like Harriet the Spy, take notes.....or possibly create electronic blogs. . .
Some of my ponderings today have to do with why I've undergone this transition to feeling good about my life without paid work. A lot of it has to do with actually embracing the idea that I've had a lot of projects I've wanted to work on in two realms, writing/thinking and organization/sorting/disposal of a ton of family "stuff" which has come to roost at my house. I thank my son for reminding me of that, at a point where I had concluded that I needed to give myself an "assignment" otherwise I was in danger of frittering away the rest of my life. So......I decided to begin with a focus on my oldest brother, Rob's, letters with an eye toward writing about his life. He died in 1988, and in 1996 I actually conceived of a book based on his life, and took some preliminary steps to begin that, but then life and work got in the way.
Since I had loved working on my great grandmother's and great great grandmother's letters which were published by U.of Iowa in 1996, I knew I would enjoy such a project again, and it would enable me to write, think and start to sort family memorabilia, all at the same time. I now have a thick, 3-ring binder sitting beside my laptop, containing only the letters from his first year at Dartmouth, open to the next letter to read and write notes about. I'm only up to Oct. 31st, 1957 and I have already identified several recurring themes and raised several questions.
I've quickly realized, that one of the aspects of pursuing this project is that I will learn a lot about others in my family and have an opportunity to revisit my own life as I think about his. He was 8 years older than I, and so when he went off to college, I was only 10, almost 11 years old. I didn't know him very well, then, and I surely didn't spend much time thinking about what he was experiencing in college. From this vantage point, and now having been through the college experience and a lot more life experience since, I am able to read his letters within the historical and cultural context of the time period, and with much more knowledge about him as I knew him better later in his life.
Reading through these letters makes me miss him in a way that I haven't so much in recent years. There are so many questions I would like to ask him, and so much that is going on today that I would like to talk about with him about. I think this is a common lament of people who write about family members who have died. Why didn't I ask such and such when I could have? What was that story that X used to tell, but I didn't write down? In most ways, however, his letters will answer many of those questions for me.
And that brings me to the final point/question I have raised so many times as I have contemplated the boxes of letters, scrapbooks, photo albums and file folders I have inherited over the years: Why did my family become such savers of letters, in particular? That question is especially focused on the Redington (paternal) side of my family. My dad saved all of our letters home from college and wherever we may have been in the years after. In my brother, Rob's case, he also had a whole file of what he identified as "1957 Summer Prelims Before Leaving for Hanover" which includes lots of interesting documents for the researcher like me. Though mom was the apparently sentimental one of my parents, what does it say about dad that he kept all this stuff? And what does it say for all of us now that we are in the ephemeral email era? Conducting research into a person's life will be much more difficult, that I can say for sure. I'd like to think that we might pay more attention to our family members and our familial relationships in the present moment, and like Harriet the Spy, take notes.....or possibly create electronic blogs. . .
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