Mental Health: Turtles All The Way Down

On Friday, October 20th, I had the pleasure of attending a book reading by John Green, as part of his press tour for Turtles All the Way Down. It was not a typical book signing--in addition to reading passages, his brother Hank performed several songs (he sings about science! and the certainty of death!) and they did a Q & A bit together that was really fun. I was not the youngest, nor oldest, nor nerdiest of the audience members, but the beauty of this crowd was that everyone belonged.

Included in the ticket price was a copy of Turtles All the Way Down,  which I read very quickly in the following days. The narrator is a teenager named Aza who suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Most of us know what this is--people wash their hands and check the stove a billion times before they leave the house, right? Not so much. Green shows us the reality of OCD in a way that is eye-opening and, at times, upsetting. As I learned at the event, Green also suffers from OCD and therefore seems to be a pretty good source on the subject.

Aza's obsession revolves around a fear of contracting a serious but very rare disease call C.diff. She compulsively reads the Wikipedia page about it (linked above) and sanitizes her hand constantly, which escalates to the point that she actually starts drinking hand sanitizer to kill bacteria in her mouth. She describes her illness as "a brain fire. Like a rodent gnawing at you from the inside. A knife in your gut. A spiral. Whirlpool. Black hole. [...] Maybe we invented metaphor as a response to pain. Maybe we needed to give shape to the opaque, deep-down pain that evades both sense and senses" (231).

Her obsessive thoughts make her feel like she is not her own person, that she has no agency in her own life. It makes it difficult for her to maintain friendships or have a boyfriend. Despite her despair, Aza has a dry sense of humor about it: "I could never become a functioning grown-up like this; it was inconceivable that I'd ever have a career. In job interviews they'd ask me, What's your greatest weakness? and I'd explain that I'll probably spend a good portion of the workday terrorized by thoughts I'm forced to think, possessed by a nameless and formless demon, so if that's going to be an issue, you might not want to hire me" (227). Her nonchalance is humorous, but the sentiment behind it is tragic.

In my ten years as a teacher, I have seen a sharp rise of students suffering from mental illnesses--specifically anxiety disorders. Whether this rise is real, or only perceived because we understand and recognize it more, is up for debate. But it is a serious issue that educators and parents are facing.

My first roommate in college had bi-polar depression, which she was not treating at the time, and I remember getting so angry with her because I didn't understand why she couldn't just pull herself together. Most days, she literally couldn't get out a bed...but when she did, she was vibrant, chipper, and so fun. It was a difficult thing to wrestle with as an 18-year-old who had never really heard about any mental illnesses before.

While mental illness is still stigmatized, it is getting a lot more attention now than it was twenty years ago. My school district provides periodic training on how to support students suffering from anxiety and depression; OCD is rarer, and I suppose that's one reason we don't hear about it as much. As far as I know, I've never had a student who suffered from it. After reading this book, I do feel much more informed and sensitive though. I realize how common it has become to use the disorder hyperbolically, as in "I'm so OCD about cleaning my bathroom" or something like that. I'll certainly never say that again, because I realize now what a devastating illness it can be.

During the book reading, Green emphasized that, in the midst of a mental health crisis, it can seem like you'll never find the right treatment, the right medication, the right therapist--but most people can get better. I got the impression that it has been five years since his last book because he has been fighting for his own health, but he seems well now and this book is a masterpiece--better, I think, than A Fault in Our Stars.

I will end this post with one final quote: "If you need mental health services in the United States, please call the SAMHSA treatment referral helpline: 1-877-SAMHSA7. It can be a long and difficult road, but mental illness is treatable. There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't" (288).

Police Brutality: The Hate U Give

27 September 2017

I finished The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas about a week ago, but I can't get it out of my mind. The events of the novel and the events of the world around me collided in a magical but brutal way, and it influenced me in a pretty drastic way.

This book is one of many YA novels that have recently been published, or soon will be, on the topic of police brutality. Thomas was moved to write it after the death of Michael Ferguson three years ago, and as I finished the last pages, St. Louis erupted in more massive protests over the shooting of a black man by a white police officer.

The story is told from the perspective of Starr, a black teenager living in a poor neighborhood. Her father is a former gangster turned convenience store owner; her mother is a nurse who drives Starr and her brother 45 minutes each way to a fancy private school so that they can pursue their dreams and find a safe, happy life far away from the poverty and violence they grew up around.

Starr finds herself at a party one night and reunites with a childhood friend, Khalil. They leave the party together, get pulled over, and Khalil is shot by the police officer. He is unarmed.

The reader is taken through Starr's trauma as a witness and the aftermath of Khalil's death--the grand jury trial, the press, the protests. Starr emerges strong, powerful, and determined to fight for justice for her community.

One detail that really struck me was that Khalil was a drug dealer. He wasn't dealing, or even carrying drugs, on the night he was killed. But in the aftermath, the media focused on that detail, as if it was enough to justify his death. When some friends at school ask Starr if she knew the "drug dealer" in the news, she thinks, "The drug dealer. That's how they see him. It doesn't matter that he's suspected of doing it. 'Drug dealer' is louder than 'suspected' ever will be" (113). 

Thomas included this detail, no doubt, because things like it are used all the time to "convict" the dead for their own murders. Regarding the Jason Stockley verdict, many people will be quick to point out that Anthony Lamar Smith was a heroin dealer. Perhaps if I hadn't read this book, I would be one of them. But to Starr's point, it shouldn't matter. I have had students in the past who were drug dealers, car thieves, vandals. They're all white, and they're all alive today, because none of them deserved to die for their crimes. I wish we as a society had the same reverence for black and brown lives.

One of the most moving moments of the novel for me was when Starr's father is roughed up by police outside their convenience store. Starr and her brothers watch, terrified that he will meet the same fate as Khalil, and shocked to see their strong father in such a vulnerable position. Later, she sees him break down for the first time and tells us, "Daddy once told me there's a rage passed down to every black man from his ancestors, born the moment they couldn't stop the slave masters from hurting their families. Daddy also said there's nothing more dangerous than when this rage is activated" (196). The rage is certainly activated, and the neighborhood erupts into violent protest after Khalil's killer is exonerated.

After the first weekend of protests following the Stockley verdict, I was nervous to return to my classroom on Monday. Should I say anything? What should I say? I work in a very-white, mostly-conservative district. How could I talk to my students in a respectful, reasoned, but also "woke" way?

I eventually asked myself--What Would a Librarian Do? With that question in mind, I went to the school library first thing in the morning and found four additional novels on race and police brutality. For each class, I began by saying, "You may feel empathy and understanding for the protesters. You may wish you could join them. You may be wondering, what's the big deal? Why are they so angry? Or you may be unsure. No matter where you fall, these books can give you a glimpse into the mind of someone who has lived through this experience. Reading novels allow you to be someone else for a little while. Even if it doesn't change your mind, it might deepen your understanding, help you see the common ground that might exist."

I then did book talks on each one, lingering the longest on The Hate U Give, and ending with, "These will be in my class library for the next month or so. If you want to read them during our independent reading time, you can. If not, then don't. It's your choice."

A few students read the books I suggested during our independent reading time. One student's mother called and thanked me for addressing the issue. I'm sure others were silently grateful to know that I am an ally. It would be naive to think that anything I say could change the hearts and minds of all my students, and really that's not my job. My job, I believe, is to encourage them to think for themselves and expose them to literature that helps them think in new ways about new topics. And I'm pretty confident I accomplished at least that much.

Immigration: The Sun Is Also a Star

I am always on the lookout for young adult novels that I can recommend to students. Finding those that are written well and will appeal to the teenage brain can be a bit of a challenge sometimes. The stories can feel trite, the characters can be flat, and the dialogue can be unrealistic. 

Nicola Yoon avoids all of these flaws in The Sun is Also a Star. The narrative alternates between two characters, Daniel and Natasha, and spans only the course of one day (besides the epilogue). Occasionally there is a chapter about one of their parents, or one of the random other people they encounter, but it is mostly these two central characters.

Daniel is the son of South Korean immigrants who expect him to go to an Ivy League school and become a doctor, despite the fact that he is a poet who has no interest in medicine.

Natasha was born in Jamaica and immigrated illegally with her family at the age of eight. She loves science and is skeptical about anything that cannot be tested and proved--including love. Her father, an aspiring actor, has been arrested for a DUI and now the family is being deported. 

On her last day in New York City, Natasha meets Daniel and, despite all odds, they fall in love as they desperately try to save Natasha from deportation.

I loved this book for two reasons: 

(1) Although it seems crazy that anyone could fall in love in one day, the character development and the way the plot unfolds is actually quite believable. Teen readers will swoon at the chemistry between Natasha and Daniel, and adults will be transported back to the days of their own first love. I could not put this book down.

(2) These two characters represent very different American immigrant stories, and give readers a personal connection to two experiences that they may not know anything about. 

Natasha's story of being brought to the U.S. as a child, growing up as an American teenager with dreams of attending college and being a scientist, is the antithesis of the "illegal immigrants are our enemy" narrative that students may have been exposed to previously. 

Daniel's parents left behind lives of poverty, trusting that their hard work would pay off in a foreign land. Their story is the typical "American Dream," but it comes at a cost. They are surprised when their sons become true Americans, with all of our focus on independence and the individual as master of his/her own destiny. They don't understand why Daniel is choosing what he wants to do over what he should do.

So often people think of immigrants as being from one region, but the truth is the United States has immigrants-- both legal and illegal--from all corners of the world. They come here for many different reasons and have varied experiences. Immigration reform is complex and there are no easy answers, but this story made me feel empathy for anyone who is in Natasha or Daniel's shoes. It also made me feel lucky that my own ancestors took that leap of faith, crossing the ocean to an unsure fate that ultimately led to me having more opportunities than they could possibly imagine. 

A Dream Deferred: Brown Girl Dreaming

I was a voracious reader as a child, but I realize now as an adult that my exposure to books was extremely white-washed. All of my favorite novels were about white children, written by white authors. James and the Giant Peach, A Wrinkle in Time, Where the Red Fern Grows... you get the idea.

And while I may have learned a lot from those books, as a teacher and librarian, I strongly believe that it is not only important for minority students to see themselves in the books they read, but also that white students read stories about diverse characters.

So I am on a personal journey to diversify my reading of children's and young adult literature. This is how I came upon Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson, and all I can say is...WOW.

I'm not the first person to recognize this book as extraordinary. It is the winner of a Newbery Honor Award, the National Book Award, and the Coretta Scott King Award. So it's a wonder that I had not heard of it before. Once I started reading, I couldn't put it down. I think it's one of the best young adult novels I have ever read, and I believe it should be added to every 9th grade English curriculum in the country.

Brown Girl Dreaming is autobiographical and tells the story of Jacqueline's childhood, growing up in South Carolina and then Brooklyn, with her single mother and siblings in the 1960s. Each chapter is a free-verse poem, gorgeously written like snapshot photographs of her childhood.

One minute you're eating lemon ice cream with her grandfather, the next you're eavesdropping on the grown-ups talking about Dr. King and nonviolent protests, and the next you're feeling her grandmother straightening her hair with a hot comb while her older sister reads to her, trying to distract her from the burn.

Why is it that we teach students about segregation and racism through the eyes of a white child in To Kill a Mockingbird? Why do we place so much glory on the head of Atticus Finch when he doesn't even invite Calpurnia (the woman who is raising his children), to eat at the table with the family?

What if we taught students about this same era through the eyes of a black child? What if we listened to her parents instruct her how to behave around white people, eyes down, "yes sir, no sir"---but also reminding her, "we're as good as anybody"? What if we read about the conflicting feelings of fear and anger and pride that led some people to protest, others to stay home and pray?

Wouldn't that be more powerful?

Wouldn't that be a better way to instill empathy in our white students?

Wouldn't that be more inspirational and affirming for our black students?

Brown Girl Dreaming is also the perfect companion for any study of Langston Hughes. The novel begins with one of his many poems about dreams: "Hold fast to dreams/For if dreams die/Life is a broken-winged bird/That cannot fly. / Hold fast to dreams/For when dreams go/Life is a barren field/Frozen with snow."

Hold fast to dreams. It is those dreams that created great change during the Civil Rights Movement. Today, we see the Black Lives Matter movement demanding justice, the dream still deferred. Jacqueline's grandmother says, "We all have the same dream.../To live equal in a country that's suppose to be/the land of the free" (89).

Jacqueline's grandfather says, "First they brought us here./Then we worked for free. Then it was 1863,/ and we were supposed to be free but we weren't./And that's why people are so mad" (72).  It's been over 150 years since slavery ended, yet the struggle continues.

In my experience, efforts to include "multiculturalism" in schools are well-intentioned, but misguided and incomplete. For example, studying ancient Native American myths while ignoring the reality of modern reservation life; or studying the Harlem Renaissance, while failing to discuss the appropriation of black culture in music and film today.

Truly diversifying our school curricula and libraries is only a small step toward empowering black and brown children, and teaching white children about how to recognize their privilege and use it for positive change. Perhaps if more students are exposed to diverse ideas, perspectives, and stories, then we won't need movements like Black Lives Matter in the future. Educators have a responsibility to take a hard look at the texts they are using, and ask if there are better options available. For me, Brown Girl Dreaming is an obvious choice, and I look forward to using it in my classroom or library soon.

Evolution: The Signature of All Things

I finally finished Elizabeth Gilbert's novel, The Signature of All Things. With 500 pages (and quite a few real life distractions), it has taken me much longer than usual to finish this book, but it was worth the wait!

Gilbert is most famous for her memoir Eat Pray Love, and on the surface this novel couldn't be more different. Set between the years 1760 and 1883, the story follows Alma Whittaker, the daughter of a world-renowned botanist and heiress to a great fortune. She grows up with every advantage in life, but her lack of beauty and the fact that she lives on a secluded estate cause her to be painfully anti-social. She is incapable of truly connecting with nearly everyone in her life, including her adopted sister and her only friend, not to mention potential suitors. Alma's story includes love and lust, but it is filled with disappointments. In the end, it is only her love of science that prevails.

I admired Gilbert's ability to use the backdrop of the industrial revolution for her story; from the rise of modern medicine to the emancipation of American slaves, historical events shape the  characters but never take center stage. The novel also has a few "mature audiences only" scenes that I found surprising, but ultimately they added an honesty and vulnerability to the overall narrative that I appreciated.

While much of the novel centers around Alma's pursuit of human connection, her study of botany--specifically, moss--is a constant for nearly her entire adult life. It leads her into the daring discovery of evolution, an idea that (in reality as well as the book) made waves when Charles Darwin published On the Origin of Species in 1859. Alma and most of the other characters are practicing Christians, and each find different ways to reconcile these new ideas with their faith.

The title of the novel comes from a theory of Jacob Boehme, a real-life philosopher and mystic, who "believed in something he called 'the signature of all things'--namely, that God had hidden clues for humanity's betterment inside the design of every flower, leaf, fruit, and tree on earth. All the natural world was a divine code, Boehme claimed, containing proof of our Creator's love" (229).

As a botanist, one might think that Alma would be drawn to this theory. However, we find out much later that Alma is basically an atheist, although she never uses that term: "You see, I have never felt the need to invent a world beyond this world, for this world has always seemed large and beautiful enough for me. [...] All I ever wanted was to know this world. I can say now, as I reach my end, that I know quite a bit more of it than I knew when I arrived" (497).

I love the idea of focusing on the beauty of the world right in front of us rather than worrying about the next one. Certainly this is easier for someone privileged like myself, or Alma Whittaker, to do. I would not be the first to point out that people in lives marked by poverty, violence, and death are often the most devout; the promise of an eternal reward is too compelling when the life in front of you is filled with sadness. Alma's life, too, is marked by sadness. She out-lives everyone she loves, never finds a true partner, and fails to publish the scientific breakthrough that would have made her famous. Yet her admiration of the natural world never falters.

The novel made me think about how interesting it is that some people find evidence of God in the natural world, while others find evidence against. I will be leaving soon for a trip to the mountains, where I always feel a sense of insignificance as well as purpose. It's an odd paradox; to realize that you are just a tiny speck in a vast universe of experience, while also feeling that the beauty before you is undeniable proof of some greater design.

Alma grows up being told that love and marriage and children give one's life meaning, which causes her great pain and resentment. Yet, despite her misfortunes, Alma is grateful at the end of her long life that she had the chance to explore and discover the world, showing that her own personal evolution is the true heart of the story.

Magical Love: The Night Circus

I have done countless "book talks" with students as an English teacher, but I recently did my first official book talk as a librarian-in-training. I think it went pretty well, so I'd like to share it with you... but in writing. So I guess it's a "book write." 

Have you been waiting for a book that combines the magic of Harry Potter, the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet, and the epic battles of the Hunger Games? Well, look no further: I give you The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern.

Morgenstern will captivate you from the very first page when she describes the night circus itself. Imagine you are living in the middle of nowhere, on a farm maybe, and one day a giant black and white tent appears in a field. You have no idea what it is or how it got there, but there is a sign that says "opens at nightfall." You have to go, right? And when you do go, it is so perfect, so magical, that it becomes the best night of your life.

The night circus is the backdrop for the tragic love story of Celia and Marco. Forget Romeo and Juliet, these are truly star-crossed lovers. Celia's father, Prospero, and Marco's father-figure, Chandresh, are locked in a feud to prove who is the better magician. Celia and Marco have both been training since childhood in the art of magic. They know that they are to play some sort of game, but they don't know the rules...or the consequences.

When Celia and Marco meet, they soon realize that they are each other's adversary. They also quickly fall in love. And while there are only two contestants in this game, they fight with magic, and the love story is much more romantic, the key similarity with the Hunger Games is that there can only be one winner. As the story progresses, it becomes clear to the reader that this story cannot have a happy ending...yet we can't help hoping that, in this world of magic, anything is possible.

Girls & STEM: Rosie Revere & Ada Twist

Today I'd like to tell you about two of my favorite children's books: Rosie Revere, Engineer and Ada Twist, Scientist. Both are written by Andrea Beaty and illustrated by David Roberts.

The two books are about precocious young girls with big questions and big dreams. Rosie loves to build things to solve problems, but feels discouraged when grown-ups laugh at her inventions. That is until her great-great Aunt Rose, with her signature red scarf, comes to town and teaches Rosie an important lesson:

“Your brilliant first flop was a raging success! Come on, let's get busy and on to the next!" She handed a notebook to Rosie Revere, who smiled at her aunt as it all became clear. Life might have its failures, but this was not it. The only true failure can come if you quit.”

Meanwhile, Ada Marie (named for Ada Lovelace and Marie Curie) has a thirst for knowledge that cannot be quenched. In her story, it is actually her parents that learn a lesson: that little scientists should be encouraged, not suppressed.

All parents and teachers of young children should run out and get these books today! It is so easy to get exasperated by the never-ending questions, and the mess that seems to materialize every time you leave a kid alone for five minutes. My own daughter literally wants to stop and smell the roses every day as we leave her school. It's so annoying! But it's also so important to let her do it, because curiosity and creativity have to be cultivated, or they will not survive the impending apathy of adolescence!

The world of education has been placing a lot of emphasis on STEM these past few years, but it's disturbing to see how few women and girls enter these fields. Growing up, I always loved math and consistently scored well in my classes, but was never once told to take an advanced math class or asked about pursuing a STEM career. I have no regrets about the path I took--I also always loved to read!--but I can't help but wonder why no one saw that potential in me.

But things will be different for my daughter's generation! With characters like Rosie and Ada, and real world role models like Danica McKellar and Dr. Karen Panetta,  I hope we will see more girls entering STEM fields and changing the world for the better!

Making a Portfolio

I some of the things I've been making as part of my Masters in Integrated School Library Media and Technology.  Some of the pieces have been used in the library as part of my practicum; others are mock-ups for events I'd like to do in the future.

Most of the pieces in the portfolio were made with an amazing free program called canva.com. It is a real game-changer for anyone who makes flyers on a regular basis. I also love that you can make infographics, menus, postcards, and programs. It will make you feel like you learned how to be a graphic designer overnight!

Also included in the portfolio is a tutorial I made to solve a very specific problem. My daughter's school district bought iPads for every pre-K classroom...and then failed to provide the teachers with any training. As a result, many of the teachers have downloaded an assortment of passive apps that children can play during their free play time. This is not the purpose of tablets in the classroom! Children should be creating content with tablets, not just consuming it. Also, children should be playing during play time, not sitting in front of a screen!

I love my daughter's school librarian, but she doesn't have any more time than the teachers do to create this kind of training. So I took it upon myself to put a little something together. I hope my daughter's teacher finds it useful!

My practicum is wrapping up soon, and I'm sad for it to end. Hiring season is upon us, and I don't know where I'll end up, but I'm really excited for the next chapter (pun intended!) in my career.

        

           

                                        

Love & Anxiety: Fangirl

Rainbow Rowell is quickly becoming my favorite Young Adult novelist. I read Eleanor and Park two years ago and was moved by her depiction of two teenage misfits who fall in love while dealing with abuse, poverty, and general teen anxt.

In Fangirl, Rowell sets the scene a little later--freshman year of college--but includes many of the same elements. The protagonist, Cath, suffers from social anxiety; she prefers the magical world of her fanfiction to reality. She reluctantly befriends her sassy roommate and ultimately falls in love with a "normal" boy who sees how cool she is behind her shy, geeky facade.

In a unique twist, Cath has a twin sister, Wren, who has a very different personality. The twins' mother abandoned them in third grade, and as Cath puts it, "Wren acted out, I acted in." While Cath lives off protein bars because she's embarrassed to ask where the dining hall is, Wren goes out and parties every night. While Cath struggles to even make eye contact with strangers, Wren becomes instant friends with her superficial, airhead roommate. It's refreshing to see a depiction of twins that is complex and nuanced; despite their differences, Cath and Wren are no Sweet Valley Twins.

Maybe I loved this book because I was an English major, and I spent my freshman year writing bad poetry and listening to earnest young people play guitars at coffee shops. I identified with Cath when she stayed up all night with a classmate, writing just for fun, at the expense of her homework. I enjoyed the descriptions of Lincoln, Nebraska too--a college town in the middle of farm country, much like my hometown of Iowa City.

Another aspect of this book that I think is really important to think about is its depiction of mental illness. Not only does Cath suffer from anxiety, her father is bipolar and has a manic breakdown about half way through the novel. Rowell depicts these illnesses with compassion, but also doesn't shy away from how difficult it can be to care for someone with a mental illness.

When their mother attempts to contact them, Wren is open to reconciliation, while Cath insists that they shouldn't see her because of the irreparable damage she did to their lives:

"Do you think I absorbed all the impact? That when Mom left, it hit my side of the car?" [...]
"But it didn't break me. Nothing can break me unless I let it."
"Do you think Dad let it? Do you think he chose to fall apart when she left?"
"Yes!" Wren was shouting now. "And I think he keeps choosing. I think you both do. You'd rather be broken than move on."
That did it. Now they were both crying, both shouting. Nobody wins until nobody wins, Cath thought.

This idea, that depression and anxiety are somehow a choice, is a misconception that is hard to dispel. I know there have been times when I haven't been as patient as I should have been with my own loved ones who suffer from mental illness. It's terrifying and frustrating and exhausting when someone you love is afraid to leave the house, unwilling to get out bed, or frantic in a bout of mania. It makes me wonder if Wren is willing to reconcile with her mother because she too has wanted to run away from her family. It couldn't have been easy to grow up always on edge, waiting for the next episode.

This topic is especially important in YA because anxiety and depression are definitely on the rise amongst teenagers today. (Click here for some statistics.) Parents, teachers, and counselors all struggle with the best way to help our students. As teachers, we don't want to our students to fall behind; our job is to help them reach their full academic potential! I often hear teachers complain about counselors and parents being "enablers," and maybe sometimes they are...but it's also their job to focus on the child's health and wellness above all else.

In the past five years or so, I've seen educators making a real effort to learn more about mental illness. We need to be vigilant about identifying students who need help and directing them to the proper resources. We need to maintain compassion, even when their circumstances are frustrating. We need to talk to all of our students about it until the stigma is no longer a barrier to getting help.

But I digress. Although Fangirl tackles the topic of mental illness, it is ultimately a book about young love, friendship, and sisterhood. Rowell has an uncanny ability to capture the swirling, confusing emotions of teenagers that will take you right back to that exciting-but-awkward time in your life. Read at your own risk!

Motherhood: Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother was a controversial and popular book when it was published in 2011, but I never got around to reading it until now. The author, Amy Chua, is a self-proclaimed "Chinese mother" and seeks to examine why Asian children are often so much more accomplished in academics and music than their peers.

Some people might be uncomfortable about the generalizations and stereotypes that comprise much of Chua's analysis of parenthood. She claims that Chinese parents are strict and uncompromising, while Western parents are coddling and permissive. She goes on to say that Chinese parenting in America is more difficult because the general culture does not support the no-excuses, always-respect-your-elders values that are at the heart of Chinese parenting.

Many of Chua's tactics are alarming to Western readers. In addition to earning straight-A's, she expected her daughters to practice their musical instruments for hours every day, often "motivating" them by using words such as disgrace, worthless, and garbage. She even made them practice every day while on vacation, often missing out on tourist attractions because they were traipsing around foreign cities looking for a piano to practice on. However, the results of her approach are obvious: her oldest daughter performed at Carnegie Hall at the age of sixteen.

What seems to start off as an uncompromising defense of "Chinese parenting" ends in an unexpected way, with Chua admitting that her method doesn't work for every child. I was also surprised by how humorous and self-deprecating she can be; she knows she's a little crazy, but she just can't help herself. And while I'm not about to start making my preschooler practice violin for five hours a day, there were a few ideas that resonated with me.

Chua maintains that her high expectations come from a place of pride and confidence in her children's abilities. She writes on her website: "It’s about believing in your child more than anyone else – more than they believe in themselves – and helping them realize their potential, whatever it may be." 

Keep that philosophy in mind as you listen to this next anecdote. One year, Chua did something no Western mother would ever do: she gave her young daughters their homemade cards back because they weren't good enough. While this seems horrific at first, she did it to make a point. Mother's Day is about honoring all that your mother does for you, and Chua did a lot for her kids. For them to hastily scribble on some construction paper the morning of the holiday was insulting. Why shouldn't we expect children to be grateful and thoughtful?

Western parents often ask Chua whether her parenting style is actually for her kids, or herself:

My answer, I'm pretty sure, is that everything I do is unequivocally 100% for my daughters. My main evidence is that so much of what I do with Sophia and Lulu is miserable, exhausting, and not remotely fun for me. [...] Sometimes I wake up in the morning dreading what I have to do and thinking how easy it would be to say, "Sure Lulu, we can skip a day of violin practice." Unlike my Western friends, I can never say, "As much as it kills me, I  just have to let my kids make their choices and follow their hearts. It's the hardest thing in the world, but I'm doing my best to hold back." Then they get to have a glass of wine and go to a yoga class, whereas I have to stay home and scream and have my kids hate me. (148)

And that's the other key difference in the Chinese and Western models: the parent's role. Despite a demanding professorship at Yale Law School, Chua seemingly spent hours every day helping her daughters practice. She spent large sums of money on their music instructors because, as she sees it, there is nothing better to invest in than your children. She micro-managed her children's lives out of love and dedication.

I am definitely a Western parent. I want my children to have magical, carefree childhoods, and I want them to pursue their passions. However, I can see from Chua's example that kids are capable of much more than we give them credit for. If they truly work hard and still aren't "the best," I won't fault them, but I think many Western parents let their kids off too easily, and don't actually demand that they work hard. Study after study shows that parents who are involved at school have children with better grades and fewer disciplinary issues. This isn't just about attending the PTA, but about being really involved in your child's life and never allowing them to give up or take the easy way out.

One of my favorite parts of the book is when Chua's youngest daughter didn't do the extra credit on a test because she thought she didn't need it. Chua berated her for this, explaining that the reason Asian students do so well in school is that they always, no matter what, do the extra credit. This is my mission--to teach my kids that "doing the extra credit" is a metaphor for how they should approach all of their goals in life. As they get older, I know that parenting will only get more challenging, so I hope I can channel my inner Tiger Mom when I need her!

Mortality: When Breath Becomes Air

I finished When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi about a week ago, but I needed some time to think before I started writing. I first heard about this book on NPR, and was immediately intrigued by the circumstances surrounding its creation. Kalanithi was a neurosurgeon who was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2013 and wrote this book before his death in 2015.

Around the same time I heard about the book, my best friend's uncle passed away from brain cancer. While I didn't know him well, it was a devastating loss for my friend, and I realized only after his death the extent of his personal and professional impact on countless individuals. He truly made the world a better place, and reading about all of his contributions and accomplishments in his obituary forced me to wonder about my own legacy and question how I might be remembered.

So in the months between hearing about the book and actually reading it, I spent a fair amount of time thinking about death and loss. I expected the book to be about confronting one's own mortality, but was surprised to find that it was really more about life. As it turns out, Kalanithi spent his entire adult life pursuing this great question: how do we make life meaningful?

Like many who have taken on this great question, Kalanithi began with the simple profundity of nature. Here he describes dawn at Lake Tahoe: "No philosopher can explain the sublime better than this, standing between day and night. It was as if this were the moment God said, 'Let there be light!' You could not help but feel your specklike existence against the immensity of the mountain, the earth, the universe, and yet still feel your own two feet on the talus, reaffirming your presence amid the grandeur" (34).

This "specklike existence" hits me every time I think about the vastness of the universe. Sometimes it makes me feel like I am a significant part of something bigger, and other times it makes me feel inconsequential. It is that tension, I think, that drives us forward in our quest for understanding.

The "struggle toward the capital-T Truth," as Kalanithi puts it, often seems impossible. However, he writes, "In the end, it cannot be doubted that each of us can see only a part of the picture. [...] Human knowledge is never contained in one person. It grows from the relationships we create between each other and the world, and still it is never complete" (172). At the end of his life, it was his family and friends that brought him the most comfort, joy, and peace. Any time I begin to question or explore my own spirituality, I too am always brought back to these personal relationships. Can we all agree that kindness, forgiveness, and love are the universal principles in all religions?

One unexpected detail from the author's life is that his undergraduate and Master's degrees were actually in Literature, which of course I found intriguing. He weaves quotations from classic literature throughout his musings, using great authors and thinkers to justify or add to his own philosophy.

When Kalanithi was first diagnosed, he wrote to a friend, "The good news is I've already outlived two Brontes, Keats, and Stephen Crane. The bad news is that I haven't written anything" (221). It is a good reminder that many great artists and writers lived in times of war, plague, and high infant and maternal mortality rates. Perhaps they wrote as if they were racing the clock, crafting masterpieces before they were thirty. Now, we have the luxury of expecting eighty or more years, and so we take our time, "finding ourselves" in our twenties, growing careers and families in our thirties. We put off our "bucket lists" because we believe we will have more time later. But what if later never comes? Kalanithi was diagnosed just as his residency was ending. The career he worked tirelessly for was never realized. His first child was only eight months old when he passed away.

Despite this harsh reality, his wife writes in the epilogue, "Even while terminally ill, Paul was fully alive; despite physical collapse, he remained vigorous, open, full of hope not for an unlikely cure but for days that were full of purpose and meaning" (219). His dedication to living a purposeful life, even at the very end, is what I found most inspirational.

I don't have any sage words of wisdom to end with, except to say that I think we can carpe diem by making time for things that are truly important: going on a date with your spouse, finding shapes in the clouds with your kids, or asking Mom to teach you how to make her famous lasagna. We can't all be neurosurgeons, we can't all save the world, but we can all seize these moments that make our lives meaningful.

Courage: The Nightingale

I've been thinking about The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah a lot lately, even though I read it in 2015 (the same year it was published). It was easily the best book I read that year, and it is the first book that comes to mind when people ask me for recommendations.

The Nightingale is about two sisters living in France during World War II. Each is a member of the Resistance, and each is courageous in her own way.

The younger sister, Isabelle, is a rebellious teenager who becomes famous for smuggling Allied soldiers out of France. Her risks are great, she saves many lives, and her bravery is obvious and admirable.

However, it is her older sister's story that resonated more with me. Vivanne is a wife, a mother, and a school teacher. Her life quickly falls apart when her husband is sent away to war, she loses her job, her Jewish neighbor is "deported," she agrees to raise her neighbor's son as her own, and a German soldier moves into her home. The things she must do to protect the children are absolutely heart-breaking and demonstrate that courage comes in many forms.

The personal conflict between Isabelle and Vivianne is complicated, but is illustrated succinctly when Vivianne finds out Isabelle is secretly dating a communist:

Isabelle had always been impetuous, a force of nature, really, a girl who liked to break rules. Countless nuns and teachers had learned that she could be neither controlled nor contained. But this. This was not kissing a boy on the dance floor or running away to see the circus or refusing to wear a girdle and stockings. This was wartime in an occupied country. How could Isabelle still believe that her choices had no consequences?

Hannah is a talented writer and captivated me from the very first page. She really made me wonder what kind of person I would be in this same situation. Would I ignore my convictions and work with the Nazis in order to protect my family? Would I be the quiet resistor like Vivianne, doing what I must for my family? Or would I be Isabelle, willing to risk everything to do what I think is right?

I would love to say that I'm an Isabelle. Don't we all want to be Isabelle? Growing up, whenever I would read about the Civil Rights Movement or the Holocaust or slavery, I always believed that I would have done "the right thing." It's easy to think so when you've never actually been tested. The truth is, the majority of people who lived through these times were mostly concerned will self-preservation, and refused to get involved in struggles that didn't directly affect them.

In Nazi Terror: The Gestapo, Jews, and Ordinary Germans, Eric A. Johnson argues that it took the entire German citizenry to allow the Holocaust to happen: "The government looked the other way when petty crimes were being committed. Ordinary Germans looked the other way when Jews were being rounded up and murdered; they abetted one of the greatest crimes of the 20th century not through active collaboration but through passivity, denial and indifference."

One thing I do know is that now that I am a mom, I would do anything to protect my kids. I cannot imagine knowing that all I have to do is feed some soldiers information in order to feed my starving children. I also cannot imagine knowing that I could save the life of the neighbor boy, but at the risk of my own child's life. Maybe none of us can say for sure who we would be in that situation until it is thrust upon us.

So I may not know the extent of my courage right now, but I would like to make this pledge: I will not look away when I see injustice. I will speak up when something is not right. I will hold my leaders accountable for their actions. If we all try to be guided by our conscience and not our fears, perhaps good will prevail.

Inspiration: Fahrenheit 451

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is a dystopian novel written in 1953 that somehow becomes increasingly poignant as it ages. It is known as a book about book burning because the protagonist is a "fireman" who burns down houses when a citizen is found to be harboring illegal books.

What makes Fahrenheit 451 different than other novels in this genre is that the society Bradbury describes was actually created by the people, not an evil government. The protagonist meets a former professor, Faber, who becomes a guide of sorts on his journey from ignorance to knowledge. Faber's description of society's downfall includes:

• People stopped reading because they preferred television.
• Parents stopped parenting.
• Schools stopped teaching critical thinking.
• Universities closed because students stopped enrolling.
• Religion became obsolete.
• War continued because people stopped paying attention.

I think it's pretty obvious how these elements could undermine a democracy, and how a dictator or oligarchy could easily take advantage of a self-absorbed and uneducated populace. 

What is really unusual and unexpected in this book-about-book-burning, is that Bradbury actually asserts that books themselves are not sacred objects that need to be protected. It is the ideas in books that the government is afraid of.

No, no, it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us (Part II).

Faber goes on to explain that in addition to ideas, people must also have time to think about what they learn; and they must have the freedom to act upon those ideas. This is why the First Amendment is the most important part of the Constitution, and why the United States has been such a successful democracy for nearly 250 years. It's also the best way for students learn critical thinking: give them information, let them think about it, and then require them to do something with it (solve a problem, create a product, write an essay).

At Read Think Make I hope to share what I'm reading, my thoughts on those ideas, and my plans to make--make a change, make a difference, or maybe just make something cool. Thank you for joining me!