Boston Book Festival '16

Nothing like the Boston Book Festival to make a gal want to blog again. Those of you who really know me understand that this is one of my favorite days of the year. I told my students it's like Nerd Christmas. Last year, I went to the ticketed kickoff event and saw the queen herself, Margaret Atwood. There's no way this year could top that, but it was still a fabulous day. J came too, but we ended up going to completely different events. It was great at the end of the day (and briefly during lunch as I scarfed down a hot dog) to chat about what we had learned. It was a fun way to share an experience but in different ways.

First, I went to the YA Keynote with Kami Garcia, one of the writers of the Beautiful Creatures books. I'd read the first one, and must admit I didn't think the writing was all that good, but I was still curious about what she had to say. Plus, since I teach young adults, I figure it's a good idea to go to at least one talk related to the kinds of books they read. When asked how she felt about the movie made out of the aforementioned book, Garcia said she liked how they brought the scenery of the world together and loved the young male actor, but had some issues with the movie. However, she was glad it brought her book a wider audience, and remarked, "Complaining about your movie is like a first world problem."

Garcia talked about how the writing process is really tough for her. She suffers from anxiety and has ADD, so she has a lot of self doubt nagging at her all the time. But she works hard to push through it, reminding herself that if you get something down on paper, no matter how bad it is, you can work on fixing it. You just have to start somewhere. She also said that though some people talk about having a muse, she does not: "There's no magical being that comes and sprinkles fairy dust on you and then you're Neil Gaiman." Sigh, if only.

Speaking of Neil Gaiman, the next session I went to, "Turning Classics Inside Out," featured a protege of his, Kat Howard, as well as Alison Case and Elizabeth Nunez. Case's book was a reworking of Wuthering Heights, meaning I will never, ever read it--WH is one of my least favorite pieces of literature of all time. Nunez's book updates and replants Shakespeare's King Lear in the Caribbean. And Howard's book Roses and Rot, which I bought and am currently in the midst of, reworks fairy tales and the Scottish ballad of Tam Lin (which I'd been unfamiliar with). It's pretty interesting so far. Case and Nunez talked about this idea that authors plant seeds of ideas in their books, then leave space for the audience to jump in and try to fill that space with their own ideas/interpretations/answers. Nunez said that Shakespeare was excellent at doing this, which is why his work has lasted. The authors also talked about how they worked to make their books accessible to people who had never read the source texts. Though Howard said she also added "Easter eggs" for people who are familiar with Tam Lin, so there's that added layer for them.

The third session was one I was really curious about: "Injustice, Incarceration, Invisibility," featuring Eddie Glaude, Jr., Elizabeth Hinton, Shaka Senghor, and Mychal Denzel Smith. They discussed the issue of mass incarceration of black men and other related issues. We obviously have a huge incarceration issue in the country, with more incarcerated people than anywhere else in the world, so  was interested in their take on this. The audience, while mixed, did have a white majority, but Glaude reminded us that he refuses to sweet talk white people about these issues. I've seen a lot of pieces lately on the kind of thing he was talking about--it doesn't matter if these issues make white people uncomfortable--they aren't the ones suffering from a racist system. Smith talked about how policing and incarceration are made to enforce systems of inequality. Hinton brought up that we need to empower people to solve the problems in their own communities and police those communities, so that we're not just going into other people's communities and doing all of that for them. Some of the issues of incarceration that they discussed are that when people are in prison, the dehumanization leads to their talents being largely ignored. There is so much untapped potential languishing away or being punished. Also, I don't remember who brought it up, but one of the authors/scholars argued that by not allowing people who've been convicted of felonies to vote, black people are further disenfranchised--and no, it's not a coincidence that very white states like Vermont DO allow them to vote. Plus, these are people who are still required to pay taxes, even though they have no say in how those taxes are spent.

One of them said that President Obama is a sign of progress that has made us think that there's been more progress that we've actually experienced. His being president is a singular achievement--it doesn't solve everything for black people. Glaude said that whenever we advance in this society, we are also held back by a reassertion of what he called "the value gap"--basically, the belief that white people matter more than others. For example, though Lincoln did so much for black people in this country, he also still believed that black people were inferior, and this kept him from being the kind of person his idea of democracy required. I think this value gap certainly applies to Obama's presidency. Yes, it's progress that he holds the highest office in the country. But America still has a huge race problem, as Black Lives Matter and other groups have been working hard to remind us. And it is no coincidence that the "birther" controversy happened with the first black president. Some people do not want to accept that he could be a real American and run our country. This is similar to why the Republican-led Congress has been more obstinate than perhaps any Congress preceding it--there are still some congresspeople who buck at the idea of answering to a black man. Thus, our progress has exposed just how far we still have to go.

A point I was very pleased about was Smith's assertion that we need intersectionality--it's not enough to just fight against one system of oppression; it's much more effective to work to end different ones at the same time. Racism intersects with patriarchy, transphobia, etc. The authors also talked about the need to let go of your privilege if that privilege means people are suffering on the other side of it.

When it came time for questions, I went up--I was very nervous, especially since we were in huge, packed Trinity Church. Basically, I said, "I'm a high school teacher, and I'm lucky to teach a diverse group of kids. Recently, when we were talking about fear, one of my students, who's a young black man, said that he's afraid of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. We address race to some extent in my classroom, but I'm curious if you have any suggestions about how I can better address that young man's concerns and issues of race in a way that will be both engaging and meaningful to both my black and white students." In response, they talked about the need to honor students' experiences and believing them (which I certainly do). They also talked about needing to be willing to make people uncomfortable--it's important to talk about the brutality and the actual realities people face. They said to face it head-on, and don't sugarcoat.

The final talk also dealt with current societal issues: "Is This Any Way to Elect a President?" While I have the names written down, I could only see a couple of the people on the stage from my spot in the very last row to the right, so I don't actually know who said what. They offered some insight into this election cycle. Some of their thoughts:

• Part of the reason it has taken so much longer for the US to have/consider having a female leader than many other countries is our president is also Commander-in-Chief. We're used to associating women with pacifism, and many people aren't comfortable with a woman leading our armed forces.
• Republicans have misunderstood their base: many of those people are not ideological conservatives
• Part of what motivates Trump is wanting to prove people wrong. For example, he thought he'd get big donations from other rich people, but didn't. This added to the chip on his shoulder. So then he said he wouldn't be taking donations, and it made him popular...
• They brought up something about President Obama similar to the previous session: said his election showed us how much racial anxiety our country still has. People have hated it when Obama spoke up about black issues (like when he talked about Trayvon Martin), and his approval ratings went down. Obama also didn't want to be a litigator on race, but at times was pushed into it. Similarly, they think that if Clinton is elected (*Editor's note: dear lord, let it be so...), it will be hard for her to engage in issues around gender because people, led by Trump, are questioning her very legitimacy as a candidate.
• Hating the Electoral College is not a modern phenomenon--people have sought to abolish it since the end of the 18th century! But keeping it is partly motivated by race--it has given whites more power.
• Trump becoming more unhinged (like in 2nd debate) isn't good for people's faith in the democratic process (no kidding!)
• "We're historians--we predict the past!"
• Trump is performing for the people he wants to sell to in the future
• Trump was helped by media--he's good at getting attention, so he got all this free media coverage from it. Marco Rubio eventually tried to tap into that, but couldn't beat Trump at his own game.
• The Republican Party has been a coalition of a bunch of different factions that don't go together for a long time
• Europe is having similar negative reactions to an influx of refugees and immigrants, which people like Putin have been stoking

Hopefully this has piqued your interest enough to make you want to check out the Book Festival next year! Almost every single one of their events is free. You may even get to meet one of your favorite authors and get your book signed, or you could discover an amazing author you'd never heard of before. Happy reading!

Small victories

Happy Friday! Sometimes, as a teacher, the small victories can make you really happy. Here are a few from this week:

1. One of my students, whose grade is literally around a 15 for the quarter, has been more focused this week, and today actually had his reading homework done and then CRUSHED IT with his classwork.

2. One of my girls kept her behavior under control today and was laser-focused on her work, and when I told her how much better she did today, she had such a great smile on her face.

3. A student who is both on an IEP and is an ESL (English as a Second Language) is really into the book we are reading (Waiting for Snow in Havana). Spanish is his first language, so he feels a connection with this Cuban author and loves when the author uses some Spanish. The other day, this boy was a star participant in class, and earned 2 merits for this (I usually only give a student 1 merit per class).

4. My co-teacher and I have been trying to get the behavior of one of our students under control, and so he's been earning a lot more demerits lately. He was definitely pissed about this, and made a lot of noise about it. But I think (I hope) it might finally be clicking for him. Today he did earn a demerit for talking across the room when he was supposed to be working with a partner, but when I told him he had a demerit he just said "okay" in a way that conveyed he knew he had been doing something wrong, and then he refocused on his work. His focus wasn't constant during class, but it was definitely much better and he was more productive. I made sure to tell him at the end of class that though there is still room for improvement, I was happy with how much better he did, and he was pleased to hear this.

5. When I gave my sophomores some classwork the other day, they all got right down to work and were silent basically the entire time. No need for reminders and shushing from me, no demerits. I couldn't believe it! I gave the whole class a merit for that. Now I just need to work on getting them to focus/behave that well all the time.

Shared experiences

I finally read a book that I mentioned in my post about Boston Book Festival 2014, Najla Said's memoir Looking for Palestine. It was an intriguing look at the complicated matter of multicultural identity. One section in particular caught my attention. When discussing her mother, who is from Lebanon, Said says, "I had no idea she spoke with an accent until my friend Caroline told me so when we were in the fourth grade." This may seem strange to many of you, but it instantly resonated with me. My mother is from Iran, and I remember people telling me when I was very young, "I love your mom's accent!" For some time, my reaction was, "What accent?" To me, that was just how my mother spoke; there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary about it. Plus, her sisters and other family members have much stronger accents than she does, so I only associated accents with them.

One of the powers of literature that I appreciate is how it can sometimes prove that our experiences or perspectives are not as weird as we might have thought. I loved discovering through this memoir that I was not alone in having this funny little experience. I'd always felt a bit silly for not realizing sooner what was so apparent to everyone else, but suddenly, here was affirmation that I was neither silly nor alone. Not bad for something I bought on Amazon, huh?

Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't

My sophomores have started reading Macbeth. (Yes, I know the quote in the title of this post is not from this play, but it's relevant, I swear.) It is one of my favorite things to teach (and I've taught it since my student teaching days, so I know it like the back of my hand). I feel like I've been more energetic while teaching it, partly because I'm more comfortable with the material, and it seems as though the kids are enjoying it more too. My level 2's love when we act the scenes out, and the other day, one of them said, "I actually look forward to English now." So great to hear!

Today, when they were saying how difficult Shakespeare is to understand, one of them asked me that age-old question: "Why do we need to read Shakespeare? I'm not going to use this." So I told him two things. The first is that Shakespeare is so influential in other literature and culture even today. The second reason I provided is that it helps us explore things in our own lives--ideas of what determines what happens in our lives (fate, free will, influence of other people), gender roles, etc. I'm here to teach them about ideas more than books. He told me that I was the first teacher to give him a good answer.

I was glad that he liked my answer, but I was also a bit dismayed that other teachers hadn't been able to provide an adequate response. All teachers, myself included, need to think more about what is important about what we're teaching. I remember talking last year with my colleagues about how our purpose isn't to teach books. We need to think of those books more as vehicles for teaching various skills and exploring different ideas, philosophies, cultures, dilemmas, etc. Many high school reading lists see few changes over the years because it is difficult to part with classic beloved texts, but even though it might be hard to imagine kids walking out of high school without being exposed to those books, it's more important to question if these are the most effective in helping kids truly learn the skills they need and in exposing them to the world. If all I had said to my student was, "Shakespeare is important," that wouldn't have been enough. Over the course of the unit, by tying the play to articles about modern-day life, short stories, poetry, and the students' lives, I hope they will see how Shakespeare is still relevant and helpful in examining their world. And hopefully this interest in acting out the play will translate to them being more comfortable with public speaking.

BBF and EdCafes

I have been meaning to blog for a while, so I've got a lot I want to share (though I've limited it to two topics). So buckle up and keep your arms and legs inside the ride, because here we go:

 Boston Book Festival

BBF was over a month ago, so you can see how long I've been procrastinating. This year's event was not quite as spectacular as last year's, but still a darn good day. I unfortunately missed out on the first talk I wanted to go to, as it was filled up, so I went and did some reading in Copley Square, noshed a bit, wandered around the booths, and chatted with a stranger running one of said booths about graphic novels. Next up was a talk called "Memoir: Descendants" featuring Eileen Rockefeller, Najila Said (daughter of famous Palestinian writer Edward Said), and Monica Wood. My favorite was Said, as I found her discussion of her confused identity to be fascinating. Her father was Palestinian but Episcopalian, her mother was Lebanese and yet Quaker, and Said grew up in New York surrounded by Jews (and acknowledged that she herself looks like she could be Jewish) and went to a school with lots of WASPs. She struggled to figure out where she fit in, often feeling like an outsider, and also dealt with an eating disorder. Some interesting quotes from her (because yes, I am a dork and bring a small notebook with me to the festival):

·        "We're given categories, and if you don't fit into them, you don't know what to do with yourself."

·        She said to her father, "I want to be Irish!" To which he replied, "You are Irish--you're Palestinian. What you want to be is a WASP."

·        "I felt horrible, and dirty, and other."

Maybe my interest in her is due to the fact that a number of the books I have taught deal with the subject of "otherness." In addition, growing up Jewish in a very non-Jewish area made me aware of my otherness, even if it was something that I did not struggle with nearly as much as Said did.

One thing that Rockefeller said that struck me was, "I'm still becoming myself; I don't know if I'll ever stop becoming." And Wood talked about how she found it easier to write her memoir than her works of fiction, partly because there was something comforting about revisiting her childhood memories. Another interesting idea from her: "Writing always asks the past to justify itself."

Next up was "Best American Sports Writing," at which point a couple of friends joined me for the remainder of the day. I mainly wanted to attend this one because the great Globe columnist Bob Ryan was the moderator. He is quite funny (he told us, "One of my friends is here from the most forlorn city in America: Cleveland"), though he does stumble over his words quite a bit (surprising for someone who's on TV all the time). One point that was discussed was that the book they were promoting was comprised largely of stories that just happened to include sports--sports was more of an entry point to larger stories and ideas, and many of the authors included in the book do not necessarily write about sports for a living. One of the panelists said, "We don't give a damn about sport, it's just an excuse to write about other things." Another one was discussing his book on the epic demise of Curt Schilling's 38 Studios, and how awkward it was to talk to Schilling about it. His summary: "I love the Red Sox; let's talk about all the lives you ruined." He discussed how the problem with this business was that Schilling thought he could basically will it into success. While this may work when you're an athlete, it doesn't cut it for a business owner. Schilling had "rampant and destructive optimism."

The final talk of the day that we attended was "True Crime." Kevin Cullen spoke about his latest work on Whitey Bulger. He had some humor for us, when saying that the two big obsessions in Boston are the Red Sox and Whitey: "The Red Sox are having a better year....Whitey might wanna think about growing a beard." But he also got very serious, and made it clear how much he despises both Bulger and the FBI agents involved with him. He said that some members of the FBI have tried claiming that Bulger only killed other gangsters, and said that, besides this not being true, he also does not want his government deciding who lives and who dies, and that what they were doing at that time. The author of "The Bling Ring" was also there. Another writer, Mirta Ojito, talked about how "words matter"--the things we say in casual conversation, especially around kids, are more influential than we might realize (her book is about teenagers who killed a man).

Didn't get any books signed this year, but we'll see who the event attracts next year!

 Increasing student choice

I've been working lately on finding ways to give my students more choices in the learning process. With my sophomores I've given them some different options on writing assignments (both creative and formal) so that they are still achieving the same learning goals but can do so in a way that is more likely to interest them. With my seniors, I recently tried something new (which I'd like to modify for my sophomores eventually). My friend Ms. K and I love swapping ideas about education, and I have picked up some great things from her over the last few years. One of her big innovations is something called "EdCafes." This is a form of student-led discussion that emphasizes student choice. What I had my students do was sign up on a calendar for a day to lead an EdCafe (between four and six students would go on each day). On the calendar was written which chapters they'd be discussing and where in the room they'd be stationed (the filing cabinet, the podium, the closet I've dubbed "Narnia," etc.). The night before their EdCafe, they had to email me their topic and its title, and if they got it to me by the deadline I'd send them feedback in case it needed to be strengthened.

On each EdCafe day, the student leaders would stand up and inform the class of what they'd be discussing and where. (I would also have this information projected on the board.) Then the rest of the class would choose which EdCafe to attend (I stressed that it was important to choose based on interest rather than friends) and move the desks around. The leaders had to provide their groups with a handout and then stand up and present their thoughts on the topic to their groups for 1-2 minutes. Then they could sit back down (much to their relief) and facilitate a group discussion, which the group members were expected to take notes on (by the end of the four sessions they were required to have at least a couple of pages of notes). I floated around the room listening in on snippets of the discussions/presentations and sometimes nudging the groups along if they got stuck or off-topic. When the discussion time would start winding down, I told the groups to work on coming up with a takeaway from their discussion, which the leaders presented to the class and which I typed up to project onto the board.

I'll admit that a few of the EdCafes were only so-so; it was clear when leaders were not fully prepared. But a lot of them were very interesting and successful. Students were almost always engaged--it's not as though they would start chit-chatting the second my back was turned. The students were truly listening and responding to one another, and having a group leader helped get them to delve deeper into the topics. Some of the discussions were still going strong when I told the groups to write their takeaway, and I felt sad about having to cut them off.

Another interesting observation I made was that successful EdCafes can come in different sizes. Some of the best discussions had five or maybe six students, while others had only the leader and one other person. One such tiny EdCafe was really wonderful to watch, because not only was the dialogue between the two girls flowing superbly, but the non-leader is normally rather quiet in class, and I enjoyed seeing how comfortable she felt to speak freely and express her ideas in this alternative setting. Other students who are similarly quiet on normal days showed great leadership when running their EdCafes, and I loved seeing them step up to the challenge. One girl is quite shy, and looked terrified when I told them they'd need to stand up during their presentations, and yet she presented for probably almost three minutes. I made sure to tell her afterwards how thrilled I was to see her crush it like that.

I enjoyed giving my students this kind of freedom and seeing most of them rise to the challenge. I told them how important it is for them to take ownership of the learning process and to learn to work more independently, as these are skills they will need in college and beyond. They still had some scaffolding in place, because independence is a learning process, but soon enough they'll be better at figuring these things out for themselves. I also had them choose their own topics for their essays, but required them to submit topic proposals and thesis statements so that I could conference with each student and help them craft stronger arguments.

I told my dad about what I'd been up to with my classes, and he said it was so interesting to see how much my charter school education has influenced my teaching practices. Independence and public speaking were two concepts I was VERY familiar with growing up. Every year, even in elementary school, we had to present an "Exhibition of Mastery"--mine were on such topics as Civil War photographer Mathew Brady and female sports journalists (for which I did a phone interview with the great Jackie MacMullan). As I've written about before, the workshop/project classes we took (I did theater for three years) taught us to take charge of the learning process. We often had to find the resources we needed in order to accomplish our goals. In our classes we were encouraged to share our ideas. Independence became second nature for us. And in this day and age when kids are coddled far too often, I've realized how important that independence is. I want to keep on experimenting with these different methods of giving my students more choices and encouraging them to take more ownership of their education so that they will know how to think for themselves rather than just depending on strict guidelines. If I can make them more independent thinkers, I will know that I've accomplished something meaningful.

 

A few examples of handouts:

 

 

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For more on EdCafes, go to http://whatisanedcafe.wordpress.com/

What "should" we read?

I was just reading this post on the Brookline Booksmith blog, and thought it brought up an interesting point. A student said, "I read New Moon, but then I made myself read Emily Dickinson before moving on to Eclipse. I always read a book I should read before one I want to read." Her professor lamented, "But that's tragic. You're treating literature like...vitamins."

So why do we often treat classic literature like it's our duty to read it, like it's good for us but not enjoyable? Too many people have this perception that all classics are stuffy. Sometimes, after reading a classic like Lord of the Flies or Macbeth, a couple of students will say, "I actually really liked it!" While I'm pleased that they enjoyed it, I wish they wouldn't sound so surprised. After all, the classics became classified as such because of their great impact. However, I think that one thing that's important to remember is that you're not going to like every single classic, and that's okay, but just because you don't like a couple does not mean you should automatically condemn the rest. Though in general I like Shakespeare, I despise Antony and Cleopatra. I have a love-hate relationship with Jane Austen. I love such classics as Jane Eyre, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Great Expectations, but dislike Wuthering Heights (except for this version...skip to 1:05), Catcher in the Rye, and Cranford (ok, I didn't even get past page 50 of this one it was so dull, because apparently nothing happened in country life in the 19th century). Different people just have different tastes, and it's important to try out different classics to see what appeals to you. 

As for why I read the classics, it is not simply because they are "good" for me, though I certainly think they are in that they challenge one's mind. Though Jane Eyre is of a different time, I admire that she is a strong-willed woman who goes after what she wants. Atticus Finch strives to be a good role model for his kids, just as my parents have been for me and I hope to be for my children someday. Miss Havisham shows the dangers of bitterness, regret, and revenge. Truly great stories have timeless themes, even if some of the details become dated. Absorbing their lessons can help us gain a greater understanding of our own lives. Yes, sometimes the language can be a bit difficult to grasp at first, but it's worth working through. I always enjoy when my students come to understand the Porter scene in Macbeth, and realize that good ol' Billy Shakes had a dirty sense of humor. Furthermore, I enjoy having a greater understanding of how literature has developed, how it's influenced people over time, and how it represents the hopes and fears of society in any given time period.

As for "guilty pleasures," there's nothing wrong with them. Reading is a great activity, even if your chosen book is the latest Lauren Weisenberger novel. Those kinds of books go down easily and amuse us, and amusement is worthwhile. Yes, I do think that it's important to also read books that challenge us more and are a bit deeper, but as said before, deeper thinking doesn't mean that something is boring and unenjoyable. I love hiking, even though not every hill is easy. But the conversations I have along the way, the sense of accomplishment I feel, and the view from the top sure make the challenges worth it. Great literature will give you similar feelings. Lighter books are maybe more akin to a walk around your neighborhood. Not as challenging, and perhaps without as big a payoff, but it's still good exercise as well as fun to chat with whoever you're with. Each type of book has its rewards, and they shouldn't be categorized as stuff we "want" to read versus stuff we "should" read.

So far this summer I've read Beautiful Creatures (dreadful writing, but amusing), Peter and the Starcatchers, and The Outsiders (so many students have recommended this to me, included kids who generally hate reading, and I loved it!). Also on my list is The Professor and the Madman, Middlemarch, And the Mountains Echoed (the new Khaled Hosseini novel...so excited), To Kill a Mockingbird (since I haven't read it since 9th grade), some short stories, and whatever else I end up fancying. I like to mix up the types of books I choose, and not just by "classics" versus everything else...different books suit different moods. What are you reading this summer?

Last week

I know everyone’s been writing about this and talking about it for the past week. And I know you’re probably terribly tired of it by this point. So don’t worry, I won’t resent you if you stop reading now. But I guess I need this to be part of my healing process.

Last Monday I went to the Boston Marathon for the first time in years. I think the last time was when I went to see my elementary school teacher run in it. But every other year for my whole life I’ve watched it on TV. After all, when you grow up in Massachusetts, it’s a beloved tradition. Every year you hear about the inspirational stories, hear the stories of great marathons past, make bets on whether the winner will be from Kenya or Ethiopia, and laugh at the funny costumes. We even refer to the holiday of Patriot’s Day as “Marathon Monday.” My college didn’t give us the day off, and I’d always grumble about having to be in class when I ought to have been watching the marathon. This year I decided it was high time I go watch in person, and I recruited a friend to come with me.

We went to Kenmore Square, a mile from the finish line, beginning the morning by sharing a doughnut (because let’s face it, there’s nothing like watching other people exercise to make you want to eat junk food. Especially Dunkie’s). For the next few hours we clapped and cheered for the elite athletes and ordinary folks. Whenever someone struggled to keep going, everyone started telling them, “You can do it! Keep running!” and whooped when they started picking up those feet again. When one man started swaying, on the verge of passing out, and fellow runner crossed over and put an arm around him, walking the man over to a police officer to get help. And yes, there were some great costumes—fairies, a bumblebee, superheroes, etc. The day was a great celebration, as it was always meant to be, and it was bringing out the best in people.

We left at 1:30, after being there since 10. After a little stop in Park Street (yes, to visit Brattle Bookshop….couldn’t help myself), I headed for my home outside the city. Soon after I got back, the friend I’d spent the day with texted me about the explosion at the finish line. I hurriedly turned on the TV, horrified.

When it was becoming clear that these were attacks, I became increasingly upset. I spent the next two days watching the news, crying, and checking in with friends and family so we could all make sure everyone was okay. And then on Friday, the horror hit again with full force. I was completely shaken up, and I felt violated. How could someone do this? At an event so dear to my heart? On a street I’ve walked down a thousand times in the city that I love? To people who were doing just what I’d been doing that same day?

I don’t need to relive for you all of the events of that week. But I am grateful that it was school vacation and I was able to spend time with some people that I love who helped me work through my emotions and anxiety, then distracted me with talk of all the good and wonderful things in this life. And I am extraordinarily proud of the way the good people of Massachusetts responded to the horrific events. From running after the finish line to the hospital to give blood, to opening up their homes to the stranded, to running towards the blast to help the injured, to pledging to not let this incident scare them away next year, the bravery and kindness shown was beautiful.

As we move forward, I hope that the lessons learned don’t fade quickly, as they often seem wont to do. And I hope that people do not condemn an entire religion for the acts of a couple individuals. This was something I had thankfully been addressing with my sophomores the week before vacation as they began reading The Kite Runner, and I hope they kept it in mind. I hope that they keep asking me questions so that we can openly discuss our fears and prevent ourselves from giving into them. One of the powers of literature is that it can allow us see ourselves in others, and can help ease our fear and mistrust of that which we previously did not understand. And I hope that Boston, and all those affected both directly and indirectly, can begin to heal together.

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WBUR posted this article on their website. It discusses why we so often feel the need to write about our connections to traumatic events. Many thanks to Ms. K for showing me this!

Of bibliophiles, Studebaker-lovers, and decorated pumpkins

Happy Hurricane Day, everyone! All the schools are cancelled, and everything in Massachusetts is pretty much coming to a halt--even the MBTA is shutting down at 2pm. So this means I now have time to get some important things done: grade lots of papers and blog. (I could have done some of said grading last night, but chose instead to celebrate the upcoming day off by playing Cards Against Humanity with some teacher friends. I stand by that choice.) And this past weekend was FANTASTIC, so I have plenty of great things to share with you.

On Saturday I went to the Boston Book Festival in Copley Square. It was my first time going, and I am already looking forward to the next one! I didn't get to visit too many of the vendors, but maybe I'll block out some time for that next year. I attended several talks, the first of which was called "The Short Story," with authors Edith Pearlman, Jennifer Haigh, and, one of my favorite authors, Junot Diaz. The discussion was very interesting, and thankfully I'd had the foresight to bring a little notebook in which to record ideas and quotes from the authors throughout the day. A few from this one:

Jennifer Haigh:

• "I write the stories that fascinate me."
• "A sentence in a short story has to travel a very long way."

Junot Diaz:

• Said something about "the multiple realities we all exist in." Don't recall the context, but thought that was a really interesting idea in itself.
• When talking about how some people don't like to read much while they're writing, but he does: "I totally don't give a crap if other people's voices are in my head."
• Talked about how novels can't be perfect, and they reflect our imperfections. Short stories, however, can be perfect, because they are short enough that the writer can hold the whole thing in his/her head and consider each sentence carefully. He says short stories are "strangely inhuman." Also, if you're too controlling, you can't write a novel.
• Mimicking reviewers who criticize him for returning to writing short stories after his previous book was a novel: "I don't understand why he went back to stories after escaping that ghetto."
• Going along with that, he does not like the hierarchy that people project onto different types of writing, how novels are usually more highly regarded than short stories.
• In talking about his character Yunior, he said that, especially in his newest book This Is How You Lose Her, Yunior uses his body to try to avoid dealing with the problems in his life. I'll need to pay more attention to this as I continue reading it.
• Also, when the authors were asked how they locate themselves in time and space in terms of their identities as writers, Diaz, who is a Dominican immigrant, said it's hard to categorize yourself when part of a 10 million person diaspora. I guess that, as a Jewish person, I found this to be a very relatable idea.

After the talk, the authors went outside to the Brookline Booksmith's tent (they are one of my favorite bookstores) to sign books. While the two women sat behind a table, Diaz stood in front of it, the better to interact with the long line of people waiting to meet him. He was so kind and gracious and signed all three of my books, plus took a picture with me. I was utterly starstruck. It was wonderful to see that he didn't look like a guy who was just there to sell a few books, but rather really cared about having that personal connection with the people who cherish his work.

 The authors in the beautiful Trinity Church.

One of my signed books!

After that, I met up with a couple of colleagues as we headed over to see "Great Brits and Books." However, we were disappointed to discover it had already filled up. So instead we headed over to "Serious Satire." I'd never heard of the authors before--Lizz Winstead and Kevin Bleyer, both formerly of "The Daily Show," and Baratunde Thurston of The Onion--but I quickly became a big fan of all three. They were absolutely hysterical, and I now want to buy all of their books! The end of the talk did get a bit too political, perhaps because we're all just so caught up in the circus of the upcoming election, but overall our Plan B turned out to be excellent.

Some gems from this one:

• Kevin Bleyer:
• After sharing this quote from Benjamin Franklin: "I confess that there are several parts of this Constitution which I do not at present approve, but I am not sure I shall never approve them," he said, "He sounds like a Republican endorsing Mitt Romney."
• "Is there ever a hero of a joke?"
• Thurston:
• "Presidents are supposed to suck. They're designed to disappoint you."
• Talking about all the problems in our country: "Honey Boo-boo? We did that!"
• On President Bush: "He was good for shitty comedy writers."
• Winstead (my favorite of the group):
• When talking about getting gifts like toy stoves and life-like baby dolls: "Anything my mother was sobbing her life over, I seemed to get as Christmas gifts."
• "The media is now a character in our world." (So true! I though this point was spot-on, and I want to find a way to bring that up with my students.)

I then ventured over the "Graphic Novels," as I've used a few as supplemental materials in my teaching, and my friend Ms. K is a big fan of them. However, this talk was a biiiig disappointment. The first person had no stage presence and was super awkward. Her story/comic that she shared with us was cool, but she didn't discuss her process, her thoughts on this form of storytelling, etc.--she just read the story. And one of the guys was dull and weird all at the same time, and I finally just had to leave. I headed over to "Jewish Jocks," as one of the authors there wrote a book I really like, called How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization. The demographic there was largely older Jewish people, so I felt a bit out of place. But I found out I was sitting next to the wife of Larry Summers, the president of Harvard. We were chatting about how the upcoming storm would give us more time to grade papers, and she asked where I teach, and when I asked her the same question, she responded with Harvard. Then Summers came over, as he was one of the panelists, and when she referred to him as "sweetheart" and wished him luck, I put 2 and 2 together. A woman in front of us asked her what they thought of him being portrayed in a movie ("The Social Network"), and she said they thought it was very funny.

Quotes from the panelists and moderator:

• Moderator: "We're going to be considering a book called Jewish Jocks, and we're off to a good start because no one laughed."
• After Steven Pinker's somewhat rambling talk on Red Auerbach, Franklin Foer jokingly said that they'd told him, "We're going to give you three minutes to link Red Auerbach with genocide. GO."
• "I didn't think Sandy Koufax had his priorities straight."--Summers, on Koufax's decision to not pitch in the World Series on Yom Kippur.

After this fun and thought-provoking day, my colleagues and I grabbed some dinner and planned out an apocalyptic novel, starring us, on a napkin. All in a day's work.


If you're still with me, I'll try to keep the rest of my update quick. Sunday was Pumpkin/Studebaker Day, a tradition in my family. Since I was a kid, we've been going to the Studebaker show at the Larz Anderson Auto Museum in Brookline, as my uncle almost always goes and enters one of his cars. Unfortunately, with the grey weather, he decided not to take the car out this year, and many other people made the same decision. So my dad and I just took a little walk around the park, as we always do (it is gorgeous there in the fall, and I highly recommend that you visit if you ever have a chance!), and then took our usual tour of the museum, which used to be the Anderson family's carriage house. After taking a quick look at the few cars that came, we headed over to Allandale Farm, another important part of our tradition, and picked out a few pumpkins along with some yummy grocery items (we found something called falafel chips--they intrigued me, so I had to buy them. Must try today....). I decorated my pumpkins with glitter and melted crayons, an idea I found on Pinterest.

 The Larz Anderson Auto Museum

 The car with the toilet is always everyone's favorite.

 bicycle

 A beautiful Packard.                                                                                   Now that's a trunk!

Another week in the life of a teacher.

Quotes of note:

• A former student was chatting with me, asking me how things are going, and then she inquired, "How's the synagogue?"
• Played some music during class while the kids were making flashcards, and Hanson's "Mmmbop" came on. A girl asked, "Is this the Jackson 5?" While I'm thrilled she's heard of the Jackson 5, I still felt a little piece of my soul wither away. And I told her this song was popular when I was a kid, and she asked, "When were you a kid?" like I was from the Stone Age or something.

Caught my CP1 classes trying to trick me into thinking they'd done their homework yesterday. Gotta love making the homework question about something that happens in the last two pages of the chapter. When almost every response was irrelevant to the question, I just kept asking each one, "Did you read the WHOLE chapter?" I was not pleased with them, to say the least. Luckily though, they have overall been doing a good job with this book, and today was a much more productive day.

I'm so excited to go to the Boston Book Festival this weekend! I've never been, but it sounds fantastic, and a few of my English teacher peeps are going as well. I'm planning on going to four lectures: "The Short Story," where one of my favorite authors, Junot Diaz, will be speaking (I am ridiculously excited about the prospect of meeting him and getting my books signed), "Great Brits and Books," where I'll get to see Maria Tatar, "Graphic Novels," and "Jewish Jocks," where Franklin Foer, author of How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization. I am so ready to geek out all day long, and I'll be sure to post and update afterwards.

I also wanted to share with you a letter that I read after seeing it shared on Facebook. I read it with my advisory today, and plan on talking about it with my other classes next week. It is an open letter to Ann Coulter, who, during the last presidential debate, referred to President Obama as a "retard." The letter, which you can read here, is a beautifully written piece by a man with Down syndrome who is a Special Olympian. He reminded the ever-classless (and that's me using every ounce of restraint that I posses) Ms. Coulter that such words should not be used as insults, that comparing people to individuals like him, who have to overcome so much and yet still "see life as a wonderful gift....should be considered a badge of honor." As an English teacher, I strive to teach my students about the power of words. Often we talk about that in a positive light, trying to get them to understand that with great communication skills paired with powerful ideas, they can rock the world. But it is important to also remember just how powerful words can be in hurting and degrading others. I talked to my students about this, reminding them that they have no idea how hurtful it can be when people use words like "retarded" and "gay" as insults and turn them into synonyms for "stupid" and "wrong." I asked them to be more conscious of their language, and to speak up when others use this language. I told them that I have asked people, including friends, not to speak that way. Not in a confrontational or angry way, but in a gentle manner that still conveyed that I'm not okay with what they said. Hopefully that message gets through to some of them, because it's important to start a ripple effect in trying to solve these types of issues.

Here & there

Vacation

Ahhh, vacation. One of the delightful perks of this job. This week I've been able to see some friends, spend time in Boston, buy more books, and today I went for a nice hike in the Blue Hills. Yesterday I finally went to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum for the first time. What a beautiful place! The garden is breathtaking....oh, how I wish I had money. That is the type of garden that could inspire poetry (and probably has). I enjoyed a lot of the art, though at times I found it annoying that the museum has to keep everything exactly the way Gardner had it, because some pieces were difficult to get a good look at. Plus, not all of them were very well lit. Nevertheless, it was a worthwhile excursion. I also saw "Titanic" in 3D. That movie first came out when I was 9 years old, and my sister was 5. My mom wasn't always very good at paying attention to why movies carried the ratings they did, and thus took us to see some things that were a little inappropriate (like "Stepmom"), which I recall once commenting on to her. (I'm sure that those of you who know me are not the least bit surprised by this.) I thought the 3D added to the grandeur of the film, and it was great to be able to see this on the big screen again. I've seen it in bits and pieces on TV for so many years, but that kind of waters down the effect of it (please excuse the horrible and unintended pun). Even though I practically have it memorized, seeing it in the theater was like seeing it with fresh eyes.

Capote

This week I've also been reading Truman Capote's Music for Chameleons, which is a collection of short stories, some true, some fictional, some a combo of the two. With Capote, sometimes it can be hard to tell. But I absolutely love his style of writing. These stories are from late in his career when he was experimenting with a new style. The result is almost like a screenplay, consisting largely of dialogue, something for which he had a great talent. Anyone who has ever seen and loved "Breakfast at Tiffany's" should read the novella--the way he writes Holly Golightly's dialogue is so distinctive that you can actually hear Audrey Hepburn's voice. One story in Music for Chameleons, "Handcarved Coffins," is made up of dialogue along with descriptions relegated to parentheses. It's about 80 pages long, and had me at the edge of my seat, racing to unlock its secrets. Recently, when I offered to let my students borrow my books so they could have something to read if they finished the MCAS early, In Cold Blood caught the eyes of one of my CP1 boys. He returned it last week, and said that he loved it. He seemed to still be a little bit haunted by it. Once I finish this book, I'll have to see if he's interested in borrowing it. It's always fun to get kids to read something they ordinarily would not pick up, and then see them get hooked by it.

Yom HaShoah

Today is Yom HaShoah, or Holocaust Remembrance Day. I've mentioned before in this blog how I teach Elie Wiesel's Night in my World Literature class, which is for seniors. Next year, our school is re-shuffling our curriculum, and World Lit is going to be for sophomores (I currently teach four classes of sophomores). This means that they'll be missing out on some great books. A few of us decided that we would teach Night to our sophomores this year, as it is often considered one of the most important books students will read in high school. It's amazing what an impact it can have on them, learning of the atrocities that human beings are capable of committing against one another, as well as how strong and enduring the human spirit can be. 

I assigned the memoir to my honors class to read over break. A couple of weeks ago, a few of those students were asking me what they would be reading after Macbeth, and I told them that this would be assigned, and they were pretty excited. Then, early last week, one of the boys came in, excitedly saying, "I read that book!!!" At first, I had NO idea what book he was referring to. He went on to tell me that he had already finished Night (even though I had not yet officially assigned it or even passed out the books), and he loved it. He buzzed on and on about how great the writing was, and said that he couldn't put the book down, and in fact was afraid to put it down because it was so sad that he wasn't sure if he'd be able to pick it back up again. He even said, "I almost cried." After class ended, he talked to me some more about it, his enthusiasm just spilling over. To put it in perspective, this kid is a member of the football and wrestling teams. He's smart and a good kid, but can be kind of a yahoo sometimes (to steal Ms. K's word). I've blogged about him before--he's the one who ate the spider. But like I said, he is a good kid, and when he's not being a goofball, he's pretty bright. To see him so enthusiastic and so affected by this book was fantastic. The next day, when I did my lecture on the Holocaust and WWII, whenever his classmates started getting a little noisy, he'd tell them, "Quiet, I want to hear this." WHOA. This is one of the students that I usually have to remind to quiet down! But he was riveted and wanted to soak up every bit of information. His classmates were also very interested and asked some good questions. I also showed some photographs from a book of my dad's, some of which are kind of graphic, showing starving or dead prisoners. Some students, including the aforementioned boy, had to avert their eyes from those pictures, unable to look at the horrors I warned them about.

The assignment I gave with Night was 2-3 pages on the following question: "From a 21st century point of view, what does this book mean to you?" It's very open-ended, and I'm extremely interested to see what sorts of responses I'll get. I didn't want to give a literary analysis with the book this time; I think the more personal responses will be more impactful. I'll be sure to write an update once I collect the assignment. I hope the students are all at least half as moved by this account of the Holocaust as that one boy was. Today is a reminder of just how important it is to keep the memory of that terrible crime against humanity alive, and to use our knowledge and understanding to create a better world for ourselves.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Since everyone is talking about the film version of "The Hunger Games" these days, I figured I'd blog about my take on it. First off, for those of you who have not yet read it, DO IT ALREADY. I know, I know, you don't want to be yet another person jumping on the bandwagon, because you probably think these books are just another Twilight-esque craze. Well, you are wrong there. Okay, I didn't actually read Twilight, but I did see two of the movies and wanted to jump out of a window. And I was reluctant to read The Hunger Games at first, because it just didn't sound like my type of book, and I thought it might be a lame teenager thing. But so many of my friends and colleagues recommended it, and even my students insisted that I just HAD to read it--including some of my CP2 students who usually would rather have a root canal than read a book. So I decided that I needed to see what all the fuss was about, and boy was I hooked. It was so difficult to put it down, and soon enough I had read the entire trilogy.

I have been eagerly awaiting the release of the film version of the first book. One of my colleagues decided that a group of us English teachers should go to the midnight showing together, so a few of us agreed, despite it being a school night. We had a great time, and I enjoyed the movie. I thought that Jennifer Lawrence, though maybe not the appropriate physical type, made for a pretty good Katniss. Josh Hutcherson was great as Peeta, very believable. Elizabeth Banks was an unexpected choice for Effie, but it worked, though I'd like to see her character's growth to be shown in the next installment, as they left it out of this film. Woody Harrelson was a lousy Haymitch, failing to show the character's bitterness that is a result of being used by the Capitol and having to mentor tributes for so many years and watching them all die. Playing down his drunkenness may have been a result of this being a "family film," but it was still disappointing. One of the best parts of this film was probably Stanley Tucci as Caesar Flickerman. It is a small role, but he did a fantastic job of using it to show the decadent attitudes of the Capitol's residents. I believe that he is truly one of the best actors in Hollywood. Though he plays mainly supporting characters, they are always memorable.

The film was overall very true to the book. It covered all the important points and tapped into a variety of emotions. The look of the film was spot-on, and I felt transported into the world of Panem. I also liked that they didn't play up the love triangle too much--it was touched upon, as it needed to be, but was not made the main focus in order to pander to the teenagers in the audience.  Despite these successes, however, some important elements were glossed over that perhaps a more daring director would have further expolored. First off, in order to really stir up anger in the audience, there could have been a couple details put in here an there (I understand that they have to be time-conscious, so I know that only so much of this can be done) that would have better illustrated the oppression of the Capitol. This would have made such moments as Peeta's speech about wanting to show the Capitol that he's "more than just a piece in their Games" more poignant. They also could have shown this oppression more through the scenes with the character Rue. The connection between her and Katniss was not portrayed as powerfully as it needed to be.

My other big criticism is the film's lack of attention to the book's commentary on the role of technology and media in our world. The book discusses the great enjoyment the residents of the Capitol find in watching the Hunger Games and their intense lust for blood. Even the people in the districts are glued to their screens, though it is a more painful experience for them. Katniss understands the how to play on the emotions of the audience, and thus makes her strategy in the game not only physical, but also an intelligent manipulation of her audience. The book serves as a really interesting commentary on our society's obsession with "reality" tv, how we enjoy watching real people suffer and become incredibly invested in what we watch. It's one of the more gruesome (and fascinating) aspects of our culture, but the film barely touched on this theme. I wish the filmmakers had been more gutsy and made the audience see themselves reflected in what was happening on-screen, but they missed that opportunity.

I was told that originally, a TV series of the trilogy had been proposed, and I hope that this will happen in the future (so long as it is put in the proper hands). I think that would be a really great opportunity to allow the audience to explore the psychology of the characters and the elements of the books that the film only touched upon.

Final verdict: "The Hunger Games" is nowhere near as fantastic as the book (as is usually the case), but still good in its own right. It is entertaining, exciting, emotional, and, despite some missed opportunities, thought-provoking. It could and should have taking all of this to greater heights, but I still recommend seeing it.

Words, words, words

While chatting with my friend GJ last night, he sent me the link to this OpEd piece by Jhumpa Lahiri entitled "My Life's Sentences." (We read her stories from Interpreter of Maladies in high school, and he remains fascinated by her.) I highly recommend reading the entire thing before proceeding here, but for those of you who aren't interested, I'll just copy the first couple of paragraphs, which I am most interested in, here:

In college, I used to underline sentences that struck me, that made me look up from the page. They were not necessarily the same sentences the professors pointed out, which would turn up for further explication on an exam. I noted them for their clarity, their rhythm, their beauty and their enchantment. For surely it is a magical thing for a handful of words, artfully arranged, to stop time. To conjure a place, a person, a situation, in all its specificity and dimensions. To affect us and alter us, as profoundly as real people and things do.

I remember reading a sentence by Joyce, in the short story “Araby.” It appears toward the beginning. “The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed.” I have never forgotten it. This seems to me as perfect as a sentence can be. It is measured, unguarded, direct and transcendent, all at once. It is full of movement, of imagery. It distills a precise mood. It radiates with meaning and yet its sensibility is discreet.

As I read this, I thought, "That's ME!" Every now and then I will come across a sentence or phrase that I just find so lovely that I have to linger over it or even underline it. In college I took a course with my favorite professor where we read Marilynn Robinson's novel Gilead (many of those of you who know me well have already heard me speak adoringly about this novel...please forgive me for repeating myself here). She is an amazing writer (I have since read one of her other novels, and bought the third), and Gilead is truly the most beautifully written book I have ever read. When I read it, I envision and almost feel sunlight, the way it is at around 6 o'clock on a summer's evening. Her words just radiate this soft warmth. While reading this for my class, I used those little Post-It flags to mark passages that contained important information or that I wanted to discuss in class or use for my essay. However, I found myself getting so caught up in the beauty of the words that I began underlining and flagging passages that might not have been "useful," but that I just simply loved and wanted to be able to revisit.

Robinson writes phrases that almost beg to be read aloud so that the reader can taste their sweetness. I've experienced this with a few other books, but never so consistently as with this novel. I wish that I could write like her. Like Lahiri put it, Robinson has that power to artfully arrange words and stop time with them. A few of my favorites:

Ah, this life, this world.

I wish I could leave you certain of the images in my mind, because they are so beautiful that I hate to think they will be extinguished when I am. Well, but again, this life has its own mortal loveliness.

There are a thousand thousand reasons to live this life, every one of them sufficient.

Reading this book felt like such a profound experience, and sometimes, when I am feeling lost or sad and need a bit of guidance or warmth, I open this book and revisit it like an old friend. Besides being beautiful, and also contains some wonderful wisdom. One of my friends once said that sometimes, when she gets to the end of a good book, she gets the urge to kiss it as Jewish people kiss their siddurs (prayer books), and that once in while, she gives into it. That's how I felt with this one.

If any of you, my lovely readers, have read a book that has had this effect on you, or wish to share a sentence that struck you as being so perfect, please leave a comment below so that we may all enjoy it.

"Fantastic Flying Books" and more

The Oscars were this past weekend, and despite dragging on, there were some truly funny and wonderful moments. Plus, I absolutely love looking at all the dresses (and judging them, of course). I haven't yet seen many of the nominated films (right now I am dying to see "The Artist," as I am a big fan of old films), but one that I just watched was the winner for animated short film: "The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore." It is a lovely little film that, in just 15 minutes, captures the magic and wonder that books possess. I highly recommend it to all of you who are bookworms and bibliophiles, or even those of you who just appreciate good filmmaking.

In other news, last week was vacation week, which was why I didn't get around to blogging. You would think that vacation would leave ample time for writing, but this was actually one of my busiest vacations ever! I went on a couple mini-trips to visit and stay over with friends and family, had a rehearsal with my cast (the play is coming along quite nicely), played soccer (we were in the playoffs!), and various other things. I think I only had two days with nothing planned other than grading papers. But it was good--I had lots of fun and didn't get to the end of vacation feeling as though I had wasted it. In fact, it felt as though I had been away from school for ages. As much as I love what I do, it was really nice to have that break. Especially since this Tuesday, I collected two class sets of essays...so at least I've got a bit of energy stored up for that now.

Why your Kindle is evil

I love books. I know, I know, this sounds like a "duh" statement coming from an English teacher. But I don't just mean I love the stories on the pages, although of course that is an essential part of it. What I also love are the physical books themselves. In our increasingly digital age, where screen time commands our lives and the rejection of any part of this is criticized, I have been finding an increasing need to be able to express what it is about books that I so adore. A number of my friends, family members (even my technologically-illiterate mom), and coworkers are devout fans of their Kindles. I understand the allure--the convenience of it is great. It's a brilliant idea. However, despite people's attempts to convince me that this is the greatest invention since sliced bread, I staunchly refuse to get one. My main reason: a book has a soul that technology cannot replicate.

One of the first things I did whenever I moved back to college and when I moved into my apartment was set up my books. A place doesn't feel like home to me without their crowded, colorful spines piled on my shelves. They are like old familiar friends, along with some that are treasures still awaiting discovery. They are there for friends and family to peruse, discuss, and even borrow. A Kindle is much more isolating. It is not an object to be displayed. And while you can share books with those on your account, what about everyone else? I have found one of the great joys of books to be sharing it with someone else and having them fall in love with their words as I did. Now that I am a teacher, I have even loaned some books to students. One of my students last year was always carting around one large tome or another, and one day I decided to hand her another classic book I had that I thought she might enjoy, Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles. She read it and enjoyed it, and chatted with me about the book's perplexing ending. It made me so happy to be able to share that with her, and having the physical book allowed me to do that.

Kindles also allow for a kind of privacy that just really annoys me. One pastime that I really enjoy when riding the T (when I'm not immersed in my own book) is looking around at what other people are reading. Sometimes they're reading the big bestsellers of the moment, other times it's an obscure title, occasionally it's a book that seems to completely clash with the person holding it. It's a fun form of people watching, and Kindles ruin that by hiding what the person is reading.

Furthermore, there is just something about a book that engages the senses in a way that technology is unable to replicate, no matter how good the quality of the the "e-ink" is. I just bought a new copy of Jane Eyre the other day, despite already having another one. So why did I bother? Because this one was leather, pretty pretty leather with silver on it, along with red-edged pages and a silver ribbon bookmark. I'm a sucker for pretty books (even more so when they're old and purchased at used bookstores). It just looks so goshdarn good on my shelf right now, and it's one of those books that's kind of like a special keepsake (and all for the low low price of $12!). I know they say that you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, and in the case of people this is sound advice. However, in the case of actual books, I'm calling bullshit. I frequently judge books by their covers. But going beyond looks, there is also something nice about the feel of a book in your hands, seeing the number of pages in your right hand decrease as your anticipation to see the events unfold increases. Books also have a smell to them, especially when they are old. One of my friends once expressed her love for smelling old books. We giggled at this, but at the same time I completely understand. It's like getting a little whiff of the history in that book.

Speaking of history, I love used bookstores. Okay, yes, a lot of the allure is cheaper prices. But it's more than that. One of my favorite bookstores is the Brattle Book Shop in Boston, which is a very old establishment. Going in there is like going on a treasure hunt. You search through sky-high mounds of books, not always sure of what you're looking for. I've found some great old copies of classics in there that have been well-loved, and I feel happy to be able to give them a new home. I often buy them even if I know I have no more room or time for them. I am to books what Angelina Jolie is to kids--I don't really need more, but I love them, so just toss a couple more on the pile. You lose this experience with a Kindle. Perusing and buying is so simple, requiring a few clicks of a button. It takes all the adventure and joy out of the discovery of books. And when you do buy them, there is no history in them, and there never will be. You will never discover someone else's notes in the margins, and will never be able to write your name on the inside cover to mark your beloved territory.

I hope that the day will never come when books are obsolete and a Kindle is my only option. Books truly have souls, which is perhaps why I am unable to part with mine. My mother once suggested I give some of mine away or sell them since I was complaining about my lack of shelf space. I looked at her as though she had just told me to sell my children. Those books, with all of their diverse stories, have become a part of MY story, and are an expression of my personality. Give them up? I'd rather let them just take over my room; the couch is comfy enough.