Younger wants to be homeschooled. And as I have 2 BA's and Bear is ABD to his PhD, we are, according to the requisites, educated enough to homeschool. My question: Since I know my limits, I would only want to homeschool until Grade 8 or so, so how do the kids apply to high school and how do they get to take the standardized tests necessary throughout elementary school?
The curriculum, I can get from the Ministry Website, and there are different support groups, but this is the make it or break it question.
Any ontario homeschoolers who can answer, please do.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
20 December 2010
9 December 2010
Finding a new parish
I suppose a charge of hypocrisy may be levelled against me. A while back I had written how I found the whole concept of parish shopping to be dicey, and yet, even as I wrote those words, I and my family were in the middle of our own, albeit very reluctant, search for a new parish.
We had long had a growing dissatisfaction with the new priest at our old parish. It began with seemingly small things, but then grew. I noticed, almost immediately, that he never genuflected towards the tabernacle when processing to the altar. When I asked him about this, he told me it was because, from the point of view in front of the altar, the tabernacle was out of sight and he would have been reverencing a statue, or a wall. I accepted this answer, but it it occurred to us that he could have reverenced the tabernacle from some point in the procession where it was visible.
I may have let that go, but other things began to creep in. He never used the word "sacrifice" in the Mass, only "offering". He changed other words throughout the Mass- all seemingly very minor, but all absolutely forbidden nonetheless. He called the altar the table, the Mass was a meal. He added a second Alleluia for after the gospel as well as before. When I asked him about that one, he told me it was an option some places use. When I told him it was not in the GIRM, and therefore not an option, he insisted it was, but added that if I did not feel comfortable singing the second alleluia, I could refrain. The Holy Thursday service was almost entirely his invention, complete with drums and women sweeping the altar clean with broad, dramatic strokes. At the conclusion of the service, the priests removed their ceremonial robes and threw them to the ground at the feet of the altar.
He told us we were worthy to come right up to the table of the Lord, which is why he had those bearing the gifts come up and lay them on the altar. On All Saints Day he preached that we were all saints by virtue of our baptism.He told an anecdote of his niece coming to visit him in the church, and she, in her childish innocence, said that she thought she may become a priest. At this point the congregation broke out clapping, believing he just spoke in support of women's ordination, He did not correct that opinion.
It was past time we left. There was anew, younger priest at the parish who seemed to stick to the rubrics, but he was under the older priest's thumb in the end, and he could make no decisions of his own. We had him baptise our son, and we bid a sad and very reluctant adieu to our parish. This was where our daughters had been baptised, received their first communion, and, in elder's case, been confirmed. We had donated close to a thousand dollars of money I really did not have for the restoration of the church. But we have children, and there is enough heresy and dissent in the world being poured upon them every day. Puff and I decided they would not be getting it from the pulpit as well.
The churches closest to us eliminated themselves fairly rapidly. The closest one has a priest who does an even worse Mass. Another one not too far away we eliminated for more petty reasons. I did not want architecture or music programs to be a factor in our decision, but in this case the building was so ugly and the music so very, very bad, it was a distraction from the Mass. That church did, however, have a very nice gift shop, so I may go back there and do some Christmas shopping.
Puff and I decided to come up with some criteria for what we needed in a church. First, and non negotiable, was that the Mass had to be done properly. Second, it had to be easy to get to. Thirdly, (and this is the odd one out) I had to have easily accessible washrooms, where we could change little Frodo, or warm up a bottle. Sadly, it was on this criteria that the Cathedral, which was my first choice, failed. It was on the outer edge of the accessibility issue, but it had only one bathroom, with only one toilet, at the back, serving two thousand bladders. The other first choice, the Oratory, is outside our ease of access. Another church almost made it, good Mass, building was very nice, choir stank, also failed on the bathroom issue, when I found myself changing Frodo on the floor while someone pounded on the door to be let in, fast. Other criteria, like a beautiful, or at least, a not ugly building, and half decent music, were down the list, and would be discarded if the other, more important criteria, could be met. as a sort of "it would be nice if, but...".
So we spent a few months church hopping. The kids were getting antsy, going to a new church every week. In the back of my mind I heard the words of an organist I know, who told me about his time working for the Anglican church in Montreal, and how a pastor had told him the churches are like boutiques, with everyone going to one that suited their tastes. But I told myself, we are avoiding heresy, looking, if not for super orthodoxy, then simple orthodoxy. We did not find the perfect parish, but we did find an acceptable one. The Mass is done well, with no modifications. Perhaps that is because none of the priests are native English speakers, and therefore they simply stick to the text rather than trying to improvise. It is only on bus ride away, about a thirty to forty minute jaunt. Not too bad, all things considered. The bathrooms in the basement are large. As a plus, the church is quite pretty, with the tabernacle in the center, where it should be, and the music is acceptable.
We went there a few times, to get a feel for the place, and then, last week, we took the plunge and enrolled ourselves officially in the congregation. It doesn't yet feel like home, but I am hoping in time it will. I, for one, really don't want to start church hopping again.
We had long had a growing dissatisfaction with the new priest at our old parish. It began with seemingly small things, but then grew. I noticed, almost immediately, that he never genuflected towards the tabernacle when processing to the altar. When I asked him about this, he told me it was because, from the point of view in front of the altar, the tabernacle was out of sight and he would have been reverencing a statue, or a wall. I accepted this answer, but it it occurred to us that he could have reverenced the tabernacle from some point in the procession where it was visible.
I may have let that go, but other things began to creep in. He never used the word "sacrifice" in the Mass, only "offering". He changed other words throughout the Mass- all seemingly very minor, but all absolutely forbidden nonetheless. He called the altar the table, the Mass was a meal. He added a second Alleluia for after the gospel as well as before. When I asked him about that one, he told me it was an option some places use. When I told him it was not in the GIRM, and therefore not an option, he insisted it was, but added that if I did not feel comfortable singing the second alleluia, I could refrain. The Holy Thursday service was almost entirely his invention, complete with drums and women sweeping the altar clean with broad, dramatic strokes. At the conclusion of the service, the priests removed their ceremonial robes and threw them to the ground at the feet of the altar.
He told us we were worthy to come right up to the table of the Lord, which is why he had those bearing the gifts come up and lay them on the altar. On All Saints Day he preached that we were all saints by virtue of our baptism.He told an anecdote of his niece coming to visit him in the church, and she, in her childish innocence, said that she thought she may become a priest. At this point the congregation broke out clapping, believing he just spoke in support of women's ordination, He did not correct that opinion.
It was past time we left. There was anew, younger priest at the parish who seemed to stick to the rubrics, but he was under the older priest's thumb in the end, and he could make no decisions of his own. We had him baptise our son, and we bid a sad and very reluctant adieu to our parish. This was where our daughters had been baptised, received their first communion, and, in elder's case, been confirmed. We had donated close to a thousand dollars of money I really did not have for the restoration of the church. But we have children, and there is enough heresy and dissent in the world being poured upon them every day. Puff and I decided they would not be getting it from the pulpit as well.
The churches closest to us eliminated themselves fairly rapidly. The closest one has a priest who does an even worse Mass. Another one not too far away we eliminated for more petty reasons. I did not want architecture or music programs to be a factor in our decision, but in this case the building was so ugly and the music so very, very bad, it was a distraction from the Mass. That church did, however, have a very nice gift shop, so I may go back there and do some Christmas shopping.
Puff and I decided to come up with some criteria for what we needed in a church. First, and non negotiable, was that the Mass had to be done properly. Second, it had to be easy to get to. Thirdly, (and this is the odd one out) I had to have easily accessible washrooms, where we could change little Frodo, or warm up a bottle. Sadly, it was on this criteria that the Cathedral, which was my first choice, failed. It was on the outer edge of the accessibility issue, but it had only one bathroom, with only one toilet, at the back, serving two thousand bladders. The other first choice, the Oratory, is outside our ease of access. Another church almost made it, good Mass, building was very nice, choir stank, also failed on the bathroom issue, when I found myself changing Frodo on the floor while someone pounded on the door to be let in, fast. Other criteria, like a beautiful, or at least, a not ugly building, and half decent music, were down the list, and would be discarded if the other, more important criteria, could be met. as a sort of "it would be nice if, but...".
So we spent a few months church hopping. The kids were getting antsy, going to a new church every week. In the back of my mind I heard the words of an organist I know, who told me about his time working for the Anglican church in Montreal, and how a pastor had told him the churches are like boutiques, with everyone going to one that suited their tastes. But I told myself, we are avoiding heresy, looking, if not for super orthodoxy, then simple orthodoxy. We did not find the perfect parish, but we did find an acceptable one. The Mass is done well, with no modifications. Perhaps that is because none of the priests are native English speakers, and therefore they simply stick to the text rather than trying to improvise. It is only on bus ride away, about a thirty to forty minute jaunt. Not too bad, all things considered. The bathrooms in the basement are large. As a plus, the church is quite pretty, with the tabernacle in the center, where it should be, and the music is acceptable.
We went there a few times, to get a feel for the place, and then, last week, we took the plunge and enrolled ourselves officially in the congregation. It doesn't yet feel like home, but I am hoping in time it will. I, for one, really don't want to start church hopping again.
29 October 2009
Further adventures in first communion preparations.
We are continuing on through the deeply crappy "We Discover God's Paths" series of books for Younger's first communion/first confession, and I want my money back. So far the book is working to prepare younger for her first confession without once mentioning 'sin'. I would have thought some idea of sin would be kinda, sorta important for first confession, but those farther up the chain and wiser than me have decided it isn't necessary.
This week's lesson came close to mentioning sin, but not as sin, just as a Bad Thing To Do. And what was the sin they almost mentioned, you may ask? Why, failing to protect the environment.
Then the book goes into a mini biography of St Francis, focusing on his care for the animals. She asked me what she should draw. I told her to draw a picture of herself driving an SUV over an endangered species.
I'm not normally so anti environment. I have written in the past that I believe it is important for us to look after the planet God has entrusted to our care. We know from our own experience that there are tyrants and there are benevolent leaders (at least in theory there are benevolent leaders. I've never seen any but I'm willing to admit the possibility) and I don't believe we are meant to be creation's tyrants.
But what got me piqued about this passage in the book were a few things. Firstly, this is the first thing they mention that one should do. Failing to take care of the planet is the first, worst thing one can do.
Every era has its obsessions and failings. Every era seems to draw on one sin or another, and priests and preachers have thundered from their pulpits and street corners about one of the sins over all others at one time or another throughout history. One era condemns lust, while another condemns gluttony, and yet another time sees pride in every nook and cranny, and so it goes. In our time it has become the environment, as though the worst thing anyone could ever do, the most damaging thing one can to one's own soul, is to mix newspapers with pop bottles in the recycling.
Secondly, the writers of this book have just dumbed it down so far. They are trying to write at the level of children. But here's the problem: you can only dumb something down so much before you get to mere stupidity. Kids aren't stupid. People who try and write down to a child's level invariably fall below it. As a writer you don't try and lower yourself down to a child's level, you try and raise yourself up to it. Kids are capable of so much more than the officials in our era believe them to be, but they have to be asked, or required, or demanded to be. Dumbing things down just makes a bunch of idiots in the long run.
Lastly, the passage above expresses some fine sentiments, but it is mere sentiment. The book goes on about feelings and such, as though feelings are the most important reality there is. Feelings are important, but they are not the be all and end all of our existence. In time we must all learn to set aside our feelings to get the job on hand done. Part of maturing is to inure oneself against one's feelings, to develop a thick skin, as they used to say. Furthermore, this feeling nonsense is leading the kids to believe that God is some kind of warm and fuzzy bunny in the sky, ready to affirm all our feelings and sensibilities with a big, fluffy hug.
They tried something like this on me when I was getting catechised in school. I managed to avoid it through a few things. One was my mother, who used her old catechisms on me when she saw how bad the ones the school and church were using were, and the other were a few nuns who were still of the old school variety. But of my entire class, schooled and raised on this sort of nonsense, I know of only two or three who still occasionally go to church, including myself. That is the fruit of this sort of teaching.
I'm getting rid of these stupid books.
This week's lesson came close to mentioning sin, but not as sin, just as a Bad Thing To Do. And what was the sin they almost mentioned, you may ask? Why, failing to protect the environment.
Life is beautiful, but it is also fragile. And God has entrusted to us the care of the precious life that fills the universe. Are you doing your part to look after it? Write about or draw something you could do to care for the world around you.
Then the book goes into a mini biography of St Francis, focusing on his care for the animals. She asked me what she should draw. I told her to draw a picture of herself driving an SUV over an endangered species.
I'm not normally so anti environment. I have written in the past that I believe it is important for us to look after the planet God has entrusted to our care. We know from our own experience that there are tyrants and there are benevolent leaders (at least in theory there are benevolent leaders. I've never seen any but I'm willing to admit the possibility) and I don't believe we are meant to be creation's tyrants.
But what got me piqued about this passage in the book were a few things. Firstly, this is the first thing they mention that one should do. Failing to take care of the planet is the first, worst thing one can do.
Every era has its obsessions and failings. Every era seems to draw on one sin or another, and priests and preachers have thundered from their pulpits and street corners about one of the sins over all others at one time or another throughout history. One era condemns lust, while another condemns gluttony, and yet another time sees pride in every nook and cranny, and so it goes. In our time it has become the environment, as though the worst thing anyone could ever do, the most damaging thing one can to one's own soul, is to mix newspapers with pop bottles in the recycling.
Secondly, the writers of this book have just dumbed it down so far. They are trying to write at the level of children. But here's the problem: you can only dumb something down so much before you get to mere stupidity. Kids aren't stupid. People who try and write down to a child's level invariably fall below it. As a writer you don't try and lower yourself down to a child's level, you try and raise yourself up to it. Kids are capable of so much more than the officials in our era believe them to be, but they have to be asked, or required, or demanded to be. Dumbing things down just makes a bunch of idiots in the long run.
Lastly, the passage above expresses some fine sentiments, but it is mere sentiment. The book goes on about feelings and such, as though feelings are the most important reality there is. Feelings are important, but they are not the be all and end all of our existence. In time we must all learn to set aside our feelings to get the job on hand done. Part of maturing is to inure oneself against one's feelings, to develop a thick skin, as they used to say. Furthermore, this feeling nonsense is leading the kids to believe that God is some kind of warm and fuzzy bunny in the sky, ready to affirm all our feelings and sensibilities with a big, fluffy hug.
They tried something like this on me when I was getting catechised in school. I managed to avoid it through a few things. One was my mother, who used her old catechisms on me when she saw how bad the ones the school and church were using were, and the other were a few nuns who were still of the old school variety. But of my entire class, schooled and raised on this sort of nonsense, I know of only two or three who still occasionally go to church, including myself. That is the fruit of this sort of teaching.
I'm getting rid of these stupid books.
5 July 2009
How to be a Good Parent
As extrapolated from the Examination of Conscience for a Good Confession: The Fourth Commandment: Honour thy mother and thy father. (Handbook of Prayers; Socias, Rev. James; Midwest Theological Forum; Woodridge, Illinois, 2007, pp. 325-326)
NB: When I say ME: I mean US: IE, Bear and I
FOR PARENTS (OR WHAT I EXPECT FROM MYSELF TOWARDS MY CHILDREN: If I am to be honoured by my children I should be honourable)
1. Have I neglected to teach my children their prayers, send them to church, or give them a Christian education?
Extrapolation:
I should teach them their prayers, make sure they say their prayers, take them to church or if I am unable, make sure they go anyway, and teach them what it means to be a Christian.
2. Have I given them a bad example
Extrapolation
I should be a positive role model. I should lead by example and most of all I should do what I say they should do.
3. Have I neglected to watch over my children, to monitor their companions, the books they red, the movies and TV shows they watch.
Extrapolation:
I should guide my children, and if necessary censure their entertainment, if that entertainment is not conducive to a Christian life. The content of their entertainment should not include: Anti-Catholic Teaching, the occult, lack of respect for their own and others sexualities to name a few. Guide them that reality is not a fairy tale. And real life is not like it is in books or in the movies.
4 Have I failed to see to it that my child made his First Confession and First Communion.
Extrapolation
To ensure that at the appropriate age they are prepared and are of the required age and maturity to confess their sins, and understand that the host they ingest is indeed the real presence of Christ, body and blood. If I believe that my child is not ready to receive Communion, then I should wait until the required maturity is attained. It is as much of a sin to have your child take communion when immature and while not understanding what s/he is doing as it is to keep them from communion if s/he is ready.
5. Have I failed to see to it that my children have received the sacrament of Confirmation?
Extrapolation
I must ensure that my child is fully mature enough and fully prepared to make her Baptismal vows of her own accord. That she understands the catechism of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. If I think there is any reason why she is not ready to be confirmed, IE, be sealed with the Holy Spirit, I should then prevent her from being confirmed until s/he is of the requisite maturity.
FOR CHILDREN (WHAT I EXPECT OF MY CHILDREN TOWARDS ME: How my children are meant to honour me.)
1. Was I disobedient towards my parents?
Extrapolation:
My children should obey me.
2. Did I neglect to help my parents when my help was needed?
Extrapolation:
My children should help me, if I ask, and sometimes without asking if they see I need help.
3. Did I treat my parents with little affection or respect?
Extrapolation:
My children should treat me with affection, and if they "hate" me that day, then they must still treat me with respect. ( They can think whatever they like, but they must treat me with respect)
4. Did I react proudly when I was corrected by my parents?
Extrapolation
My children my accept our corrections with humility. By the same extent, my corrections should be done with mercy, fairness, and patience. Keeping in mind I will be correcting them over the same misbehaviour again tomorrow.
5. Did I have a disordered desire for independence?
My children have a right to ask for more freedoms and liberties, but freedoms and liberties are not rights, but privileges my children have to earn, by showing me their level of maturity. Freedom at too young an age is disordered. Freedom, liberty, Privilege and license are similar but not exactly the same. Further, in order for my children to negotiate greater independence, they must demonstrate greater ability to take responsibility for that greater independence.
6. Did I do my chores?
Extrapolation:
Children should have chores, and pull their weight in house and for the family, each according to their age, maturity, and abilities.
Do I try to mother my children according to these guidelines: yes
Do I always succeed? NO
Am I the best mother in the world: No as is attested by my children at least once every day:
"You are the worst mother in the history of motherhood"
Am I the worst mother in the world: No as is attested by my children at least once every day:
"Mom, you are the best."
NB: When I say ME: I mean US: IE, Bear and I
FOR PARENTS (OR WHAT I EXPECT FROM MYSELF TOWARDS MY CHILDREN: If I am to be honoured by my children I should be honourable)
1. Have I neglected to teach my children their prayers, send them to church, or give them a Christian education?
Extrapolation:
I should teach them their prayers, make sure they say their prayers, take them to church or if I am unable, make sure they go anyway, and teach them what it means to be a Christian.
2. Have I given them a bad example
Extrapolation
I should be a positive role model. I should lead by example and most of all I should do what I say they should do.
3. Have I neglected to watch over my children, to monitor their companions, the books they red, the movies and TV shows they watch.
Extrapolation:
I should guide my children, and if necessary censure their entertainment, if that entertainment is not conducive to a Christian life. The content of their entertainment should not include: Anti-Catholic Teaching, the occult, lack of respect for their own and others sexualities to name a few. Guide them that reality is not a fairy tale. And real life is not like it is in books or in the movies.
4 Have I failed to see to it that my child made his First Confession and First Communion.
Extrapolation
To ensure that at the appropriate age they are prepared and are of the required age and maturity to confess their sins, and understand that the host they ingest is indeed the real presence of Christ, body and blood. If I believe that my child is not ready to receive Communion, then I should wait until the required maturity is attained. It is as much of a sin to have your child take communion when immature and while not understanding what s/he is doing as it is to keep them from communion if s/he is ready.
5. Have I failed to see to it that my children have received the sacrament of Confirmation?
Extrapolation
I must ensure that my child is fully mature enough and fully prepared to make her Baptismal vows of her own accord. That she understands the catechism of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. If I think there is any reason why she is not ready to be confirmed, IE, be sealed with the Holy Spirit, I should then prevent her from being confirmed until s/he is of the requisite maturity.
FOR CHILDREN (WHAT I EXPECT OF MY CHILDREN TOWARDS ME: How my children are meant to honour me.)
1. Was I disobedient towards my parents?
Extrapolation:
My children should obey me.
2. Did I neglect to help my parents when my help was needed?
Extrapolation:
My children should help me, if I ask, and sometimes without asking if they see I need help.
3. Did I treat my parents with little affection or respect?
Extrapolation:
My children should treat me with affection, and if they "hate" me that day, then they must still treat me with respect. ( They can think whatever they like, but they must treat me with respect)
4. Did I react proudly when I was corrected by my parents?
Extrapolation
My children my accept our corrections with humility. By the same extent, my corrections should be done with mercy, fairness, and patience. Keeping in mind I will be correcting them over the same misbehaviour again tomorrow.
5. Did I have a disordered desire for independence?
My children have a right to ask for more freedoms and liberties, but freedoms and liberties are not rights, but privileges my children have to earn, by showing me their level of maturity. Freedom at too young an age is disordered. Freedom, liberty, Privilege and license are similar but not exactly the same. Further, in order for my children to negotiate greater independence, they must demonstrate greater ability to take responsibility for that greater independence.
6. Did I do my chores?
Extrapolation:
Children should have chores, and pull their weight in house and for the family, each according to their age, maturity, and abilities.
Do I try to mother my children according to these guidelines: yes
Do I always succeed? NO
Am I the best mother in the world: No as is attested by my children at least once every day:
"You are the worst mother in the history of motherhood"
Am I the worst mother in the world: No as is attested by my children at least once every day:
"Mom, you are the best."
8 June 2009
Nuts/Not Nuts.
H/T LarryD
Hard to believe the same country produced both of these.
Nuts
I won't comment on this one. Rather, to quote Yul Brynner/Ramses: Let him rant that all men may know he is mad.
From TheDailyMailOnline: Bonkers' Health and Safety Rules See Swimming Goggles Banned for School Pupils
Ban on pupils wearing swimming goggles over health and safety fears they might 'snap' too hard on their face
A school has banned children from wearing goggles during swimming lessons - for fear they could hurt themselves while wearing them.
Youngsters were told they were no longer allowed to wear the swimming aides in case a pair 'snapped' onto their face too hard, or a lens popped out unexpectedly.
Parents described the ruling by teachers and governors at Ysgol Bryn Coch, Mold, as 'bonkers', and said it smacked of 'health and safety regulations gone mad'
Three children have so far been withdrawn from swimming lessons because of the new rule, which has affected 335 junior pupils.
But headteacher Lynne Williams insisted the school was following advice from the British Association of Advisors and Lecturers in Physical Education (BAALPE).
Ms Williams said: 'It has been recognised by BAALPE that goggles can pose a real risk to children, and this has been accepted by the governors.'
The BAALPE advice states: 'Head teachers should inform parents and carers that goggles can be a hazard and cause permanent eye injury.
'Wet plastic is very slippery and frequent, incorrect or unnecessary adjustment or removal of them, by pulling them away from the eyes instead of sliding them over the forehead, can lead to them slipping from the pupil's grasp with the hard plastic causing severe injury.'
One parent said the school had told parents in a letter goggles could only be used if they were necessary on medical grounds.
She said: 'I think the ruling is absolutely bonkers.'
Another asked why councils allow children to wear them in public swimming pools if they were so dangerous.
'In my opinion it's health and safety regulations gone mad,' the mother said.
A spokesman for Flintshire County Council said: 'The school can advise parents on the use of goggles during school swimming lessons.
'There is a legal responsibility for school governors, headteachers and teaching staff to ensure that the LEA's health and safety policy is followed, and that advice and guidance on matters such as swimming and the use of goggles are applied and monitored regularly by schools.
'The BAALPE guidelines are consistent with those of the Amateur Swimming Association.'
The association guidelines say goggles only need to be worn by children who suffer excessively from the effects of water chemicals.
They advise pupils should be taught to remove goggles by: 'slipping them up off the head rather than by stretching away from the eyes on the retaining band'
My only comment on this is to say that I applaud the newspaper for bringing out this story, and they are clearly presenting this as insane. Now onto the next part of our program:
Not Nuts
A refutation of the above nonsense has been given a few years ago by Conn Iggulden, author of The Dangerous Book for Boys, in an interview given about the success of that book. Again, I'll let him speak for himself, except this time it is so that all may know him to be sane.
Conn and Hal Iggulden are two brothers who have not forgotten what it was like to be boys. Conn taught for many years before becoming one of the most admired and popular young historical novelists with his Emperor series, based on the life of Julius Caesar, and his newly embarked series on Genghis Khan, while Hal is a theater director. We asked Conn about their collaboration.
Amazon.com: It's difficult to describe what a phenomenon The Dangerous Book for Boys was in the UK last year. When I would check the bestseller list on our sister site, Amazon.co.uk, there would be, along with your book, which spent much of the year at the top of the list, a half-dozen apparent knockoff books of similar boy knowledge. Clearly, you tapped into something big. What do you think it was?
Iggulden: In a word, fathers. I am one myself and I think we've become aware that the whole "health and safety" overprotective culture isn't doing our sons any favors. Boys need to learn about risk. They need to fall off things occasionally, or—and this is the important bit—they'll take worse risks on their own. If we do away with challenging playgrounds and cancel school trips for fear of being sued, we don't end up with safer boys—we end up with them walking on train tracks. In the long run, it's not safe at all to keep our boys in the house with a Playstation. It's not good for their health or their safety. You only have to push a boy on a swing to see how much enjoys the thrill of danger. It's hard-wired. Remove any opportunity to test his courage and they'll find ways to test themselves that will be seriously dangerous for everyone around them. I think of it like playing the lottery—someone has to say "Look, you won't win—and your children won't be hurt. Relax. It won't be you." I think that's the core of the book's success. It isn't just a collection of things to do. The heroic stories alone are something we haven't had for too long. It isn't about climbing Everest, but it is an attitude, a philosophy for fathers and sons. Our institutions are too wrapped up in terror over being sued—so we have to do things with them ourselves. This book isn't a bad place to start. As for knockoff books—great. They'll give my son something to read that doesn't involve him learning a dull moral lesson of some kind—just enjoying an adventure or learning skills and crafts so that he has a feeling of competence and confidence—just as we have.
Amazon.com: You made some changes for the U.S. edition, and I for one am sorry that you have removed the section on conkers, if only because it's such a lovely and mysterious word. What are (or what is) conkers?
Iggulden: Horse chestnuts strung on a shoelace and knocked against one another until they shatter. In the entire history of the world, no one has ever been hurt by a conker, but it's still been banned by some British schools, just in case. Another school banned paper airplanes. Honestly, it's enough to make you weep, if I did that sort of thing, which I try not to. Reading Jane Austen is still allowed, however.
Amazon.com: What knowledge did you decide was important to add for American boys? I notice in both editions you have an excellent and useful section on table football, as played with coins. Is paper football strictly an American pastime? I'm not sure I could have gotten through the fourth grade without it.
Iggulden: I like knowing the details of battles, so Gettysburg and the Alamo had to go in, along with the Gettysburg address, stickball, state capitals, U.S. mountains, American trees, insects, U.S. historical timelines, and a lot of others. Navajo code talkers of WWII is a great chapter. It probably helps that I am a huge fan of America. It was only while rewriting for the U.S. that I realized how many positive references there already are. You have NASA and NASA trumps almost anything. As for paper football, ever since I thought of putting the book together, people keep saying things like "You have rockets in there, yes? Everyone loves rockets!" Paper football is the first American one, but there will be many others. No book in the world is long enough to put them all in—unless we do a sequel, of course.
Amazon.com: Do you think The Dangerous Book for Boys is being read by actual boys, or only by nostalgic adults? Have you seen boys getting up from their Xboxes to go outside and perform first aid or tan animal skins or build go-carts?
Iggulden: I've had a lot of emails and letters from boys who loved the book—as well as fathers. I've had responses from kids as young as ten and an old man of 87, who pointed out a problem with the shadow stick that we've since changed. The thing to remember is that we may be older and more cynical every year, but boys simply aren't. If they are given the chance to make a go-cart with their dad, they jump at it. Mine did. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to know the book is being used with fathers and sons together, trying things out. Nothing is more valuable to a boy than time with his dad, learning something fun—or something difficult. That's part of the attitude too. If it's hard, you don't make it easy, you grab it by the throat and hang on for as long as it takes. The book is often bought by fathers, of course. Their sons don't know Scott of the Antarctic is a great adventure story. How could they if it isn't taught any more? Good, heroic stories don't appear much in modern school curriculums—and then we wonder why boys don't seem interested.
Amazon.com: And finally, on to the important questions: Should Pluto still be a planet? And what was the best dinosaur?
Iggulden: Pluto is a planet. I know there are scientists who say it isn't, but it's big enough to be round and it has a moon, for crying out loud. Of course it's a planet. Give it ten years and they'll be agreeing with me again. As for the best dinosaur, it depends what you mean by best. For sheer perfection, it probably has to be the shark and the crocodile. Modern ones are smaller but their record for sheer survival is pretty impressive. I only hope humanity can do as well. The only thing that will stop us is worrying too much.
There have it: Nuts and Not Nuts. Can you see the difference?
Hard to believe the same country produced both of these.
Nuts
I won't comment on this one. Rather, to quote Yul Brynner/Ramses: Let him rant that all men may know he is mad.
From TheDailyMailOnline: Bonkers' Health and Safety Rules See Swimming Goggles Banned for School Pupils
Ban on pupils wearing swimming goggles over health and safety fears they might 'snap' too hard on their face
A school has banned children from wearing goggles during swimming lessons - for fear they could hurt themselves while wearing them.
Youngsters were told they were no longer allowed to wear the swimming aides in case a pair 'snapped' onto their face too hard, or a lens popped out unexpectedly.
Parents described the ruling by teachers and governors at Ysgol Bryn Coch, Mold, as 'bonkers', and said it smacked of 'health and safety regulations gone mad'
Three children have so far been withdrawn from swimming lessons because of the new rule, which has affected 335 junior pupils.
But headteacher Lynne Williams insisted the school was following advice from the British Association of Advisors and Lecturers in Physical Education (BAALPE).
Ms Williams said: 'It has been recognised by BAALPE that goggles can pose a real risk to children, and this has been accepted by the governors.'
The BAALPE advice states: 'Head teachers should inform parents and carers that goggles can be a hazard and cause permanent eye injury.
'Wet plastic is very slippery and frequent, incorrect or unnecessary adjustment or removal of them, by pulling them away from the eyes instead of sliding them over the forehead, can lead to them slipping from the pupil's grasp with the hard plastic causing severe injury.'
One parent said the school had told parents in a letter goggles could only be used if they were necessary on medical grounds.
She said: 'I think the ruling is absolutely bonkers.'
Another asked why councils allow children to wear them in public swimming pools if they were so dangerous.
'In my opinion it's health and safety regulations gone mad,' the mother said.
A spokesman for Flintshire County Council said: 'The school can advise parents on the use of goggles during school swimming lessons.
'There is a legal responsibility for school governors, headteachers and teaching staff to ensure that the LEA's health and safety policy is followed, and that advice and guidance on matters such as swimming and the use of goggles are applied and monitored regularly by schools.
'The BAALPE guidelines are consistent with those of the Amateur Swimming Association.'
The association guidelines say goggles only need to be worn by children who suffer excessively from the effects of water chemicals.
They advise pupils should be taught to remove goggles by: 'slipping them up off the head rather than by stretching away from the eyes on the retaining band'
My only comment on this is to say that I applaud the newspaper for bringing out this story, and they are clearly presenting this as insane. Now onto the next part of our program:
Not Nuts
A refutation of the above nonsense has been given a few years ago by Conn Iggulden, author of The Dangerous Book for Boys, in an interview given about the success of that book. Again, I'll let him speak for himself, except this time it is so that all may know him to be sane.
Conn and Hal Iggulden are two brothers who have not forgotten what it was like to be boys. Conn taught for many years before becoming one of the most admired and popular young historical novelists with his Emperor series, based on the life of Julius Caesar, and his newly embarked series on Genghis Khan, while Hal is a theater director. We asked Conn about their collaboration.
Amazon.com: It's difficult to describe what a phenomenon The Dangerous Book for Boys was in the UK last year. When I would check the bestseller list on our sister site, Amazon.co.uk, there would be, along with your book, which spent much of the year at the top of the list, a half-dozen apparent knockoff books of similar boy knowledge. Clearly, you tapped into something big. What do you think it was?
Iggulden: In a word, fathers. I am one myself and I think we've become aware that the whole "health and safety" overprotective culture isn't doing our sons any favors. Boys need to learn about risk. They need to fall off things occasionally, or—and this is the important bit—they'll take worse risks on their own. If we do away with challenging playgrounds and cancel school trips for fear of being sued, we don't end up with safer boys—we end up with them walking on train tracks. In the long run, it's not safe at all to keep our boys in the house with a Playstation. It's not good for their health or their safety. You only have to push a boy on a swing to see how much enjoys the thrill of danger. It's hard-wired. Remove any opportunity to test his courage and they'll find ways to test themselves that will be seriously dangerous for everyone around them. I think of it like playing the lottery—someone has to say "Look, you won't win—and your children won't be hurt. Relax. It won't be you." I think that's the core of the book's success. It isn't just a collection of things to do. The heroic stories alone are something we haven't had for too long. It isn't about climbing Everest, but it is an attitude, a philosophy for fathers and sons. Our institutions are too wrapped up in terror over being sued—so we have to do things with them ourselves. This book isn't a bad place to start. As for knockoff books—great. They'll give my son something to read that doesn't involve him learning a dull moral lesson of some kind—just enjoying an adventure or learning skills and crafts so that he has a feeling of competence and confidence—just as we have.
Amazon.com: You made some changes for the U.S. edition, and I for one am sorry that you have removed the section on conkers, if only because it's such a lovely and mysterious word. What are (or what is) conkers?
Iggulden: Horse chestnuts strung on a shoelace and knocked against one another until they shatter. In the entire history of the world, no one has ever been hurt by a conker, but it's still been banned by some British schools, just in case. Another school banned paper airplanes. Honestly, it's enough to make you weep, if I did that sort of thing, which I try not to. Reading Jane Austen is still allowed, however.
Amazon.com: What knowledge did you decide was important to add for American boys? I notice in both editions you have an excellent and useful section on table football, as played with coins. Is paper football strictly an American pastime? I'm not sure I could have gotten through the fourth grade without it.
Iggulden: I like knowing the details of battles, so Gettysburg and the Alamo had to go in, along with the Gettysburg address, stickball, state capitals, U.S. mountains, American trees, insects, U.S. historical timelines, and a lot of others. Navajo code talkers of WWII is a great chapter. It probably helps that I am a huge fan of America. It was only while rewriting for the U.S. that I realized how many positive references there already are. You have NASA and NASA trumps almost anything. As for paper football, ever since I thought of putting the book together, people keep saying things like "You have rockets in there, yes? Everyone loves rockets!" Paper football is the first American one, but there will be many others. No book in the world is long enough to put them all in—unless we do a sequel, of course.
Amazon.com: Do you think The Dangerous Book for Boys is being read by actual boys, or only by nostalgic adults? Have you seen boys getting up from their Xboxes to go outside and perform first aid or tan animal skins or build go-carts?
Iggulden: I've had a lot of emails and letters from boys who loved the book—as well as fathers. I've had responses from kids as young as ten and an old man of 87, who pointed out a problem with the shadow stick that we've since changed. The thing to remember is that we may be older and more cynical every year, but boys simply aren't. If they are given the chance to make a go-cart with their dad, they jump at it. Mine did. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to know the book is being used with fathers and sons together, trying things out. Nothing is more valuable to a boy than time with his dad, learning something fun—or something difficult. That's part of the attitude too. If it's hard, you don't make it easy, you grab it by the throat and hang on for as long as it takes. The book is often bought by fathers, of course. Their sons don't know Scott of the Antarctic is a great adventure story. How could they if it isn't taught any more? Good, heroic stories don't appear much in modern school curriculums—and then we wonder why boys don't seem interested.
Amazon.com: And finally, on to the important questions: Should Pluto still be a planet? And what was the best dinosaur?
Iggulden: Pluto is a planet. I know there are scientists who say it isn't, but it's big enough to be round and it has a moon, for crying out loud. Of course it's a planet. Give it ten years and they'll be agreeing with me again. As for the best dinosaur, it depends what you mean by best. For sheer perfection, it probably has to be the shark and the crocodile. Modern ones are smaller but their record for sheer survival is pretty impressive. I only hope humanity can do as well. The only thing that will stop us is worrying too much.
There have it: Nuts and Not Nuts. Can you see the difference?
15 November 2008
Will... to live...fading...
Why, oh why, did my wife and I resolve to try and be responsible parents? If I could be one of those irresponsible lumps that is the norm for modern North American Parenthood, I would never get myself into these messes.
What mess? you ask. Why the mess that comes when Puff and I decided to start vetting the books our eldest daughter reads. The one my wife posted about a while back comes with a series. I got stuck with number two.
I got stuck vetting another series back in the late '90's or early 2000's. My wife, who at the time worked at a daycare centre came home with a book. She explained that the day care centre was considering putting this title into their library, but were concerned because a number of places, mostly in the States, were banning it. They asked her to read it because she had an English degree. She asked me to read it because I had almost three English degrees.
It was a dark period in my life. I had come to the realization that I was not going to get my Ph.D, that I was more or less stuck where I was. After being forced during the course of my degrees to read books about books about books, or books that tried to structure a hypothetical/theoretical position from which one may begin to have a discussion about how to approach a work of literary art, I had pretty much given up on reading. So my reaction was bleak. "It has come to this," I said to myself. "I, Bear, B.A. M.A., all but dissertation on my Ph.D, am now a reader of children's books for day care centres. Lord, end my suffering, please."
The Lord did not end my suffering, and I sighed and sat down and began reading the first of the Harry Potter novels. I expected a long slow drag, but instead I found that time flew, and before I knew it, I was at the end, and wondering what happened next. The book wasn't great, but it was good, and it had a lot of quirky humour in it. I went out and got my own copy of the book, and then began to get the rest of the series.
I feel I owe Rowling a debt of gratitude, for it was through her that I remembered my long suppressed love of good stories. It rekindled my fondness for children's writing. All too often the so-called adult writing relies on the visceral thrills of sex and violence to cover over the lack of style and story. Children's writing, without these crutches, has to resort to good storytelling. I began reading again, and although I did find a few clunkers, I remembered Pliny Major's dictum: "I never saw a book so bad I did not get some good from it."
Well that's out the window. Pliny never read the Twilight series, or he would have qualified that statement. The books are terrible. The writing is horrible. The 'story', so-called, is told from the point of view of a late teen girl, who is in love with vampire. They love as no two have ever loved before, nor ever shall again, blah blah blah. Every word this girl puts on the page is a reiteration and restatement of two facts:
1. My life sucks; and
2. That pale guy is cute.
I used to observe the teen girls around me when I was a teenager. There was a certain coterie of them that I believed were the most vapid, shallow and stupid creatures put upon the earth. They were the ones who thought they were the most mature and sophisticated people there ever were.
Now, I know most of you ladies out there probably believe that girls mature faster than boys. In all honesty, I never saw it. It really came down to the individuals. I thought, and still do, that if you were to take one hundred boys and one hundred girls, pair them off at random, and administer some kind of objective maturity test, maybe 51 girls would be more mature than the boys, and only 48 of the boys more so than the girls, with one tie. Now, I know boys have their signature immaturities- usually gross, involving bodily fluids and/or sex jokes, and potentially fatal habits. Girls, however, have their own signature immaturity, and believing they are more mature than they are is it. This is Bella, the main character of the novel.
She is seventeen going on eighteen. Her boyfriend, Edward, is forever seventeen. She wants to be with him forever. He is also slightly the bad boy, but also polite and self controlled, not like those other boys. He is also more mature than the other boys, as he should be since he is really over one hundred years old. (Question: aren't there laws against this sort of thing?) He's also a hunk. a hunk like no other, yadda yadda yadda. Really, take away the vampire stuff and you got the same drivel I heard from a dozen girls who fell in love with the quarterback/rebel/drug addict who just needed someone to understand him. The girls then got pregnant, dumped, and now flip burgers at McD's, while going home to look after their grandchildren.
Somehow this stuff plays for the teen girls. For me, I find myself debating whether to turn the page, or gouge out my eyeballs.
It all takes place in a small town, naturally- dark forces always swirl about the small towns. Nothing bad ever happens in the big city. The characters are dumb. I can't even relate to the male characters. Take her father, the town Sheriff. Edward breaks Bella's heart. For four months Bella mopes around the house in the throes of the deepest (yawn) depression. I have long since decided that if any boy causes either of my daughters to shed a single tear of sorrow I will hunt them to the ends of the earth and rend them to pieces with my bare hands. I will carry their bloody head back to my home and mount it on a stake outside as a warning to all others who would dare harm my daughters. If anyone should consider this action to be 'criminal' and charge me with something or other, I will simply stack the jury with fathers who have daughters, and I will walk away a free man. And possibly father of the year.
So what does Bella's father do? He decides to send her to her mother to see if the mother can make her feel better. This is a modern man? The guy's the town Sheriff, for cryin' out loud. Not only is he packing heat, he would investigate the boy's disappearance. Think of the possibilities:
Deputy to Sheriff: "The boy who dated your daughter has been found dead in a shallow grave outside of town with five bullets in his head."
Sheriff: "Sounds like natural causes to me."
Deputy, writing on his pad: "Natural causes it is. By the way, my daughter's going out on a date this Friday...."
Sheriff, nodding: "Natural causes?"
Deputy: "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Act of God'...."
Sheriff: "Deal."
Moving on. In this stupid book, as far as I've gotten, the vampires have left, and now some werewolves have shown up. How utterly unpredictable. Things sure do get bad in these small towns. How many shark's chewed their way through Amity? And if you change the name slightly to Amityville, then you got Satan showing up. Who ever could have predicted that Werewolves would show up in a vampire novel? This is unheard of.
Second, why werewolves? Why can't we have some other kind of creature, just to shake things up a bit? A werebear, or a weresnake, or even better, a werecockroach! Imagine the possibilities of a such a virtually indestructible creature:
Werecockroach: "Your nuclear weapons don't scare me, you puny insignificant humans. Now hand over all your manure before things get really ugly."
Something, anything, to shake things up a bit. Any good author will write within the confines of a genre, but they will play with the rules, bend them here and there to make the story their own. This book, I see nothing. It's all: "My life sucks, Edward come back to me, my life has no meaning without you.... " And teenage girls identify with this?
I have theory as to why. It feeds into the lies and self-deception girls that age perform upon themselves. It is a story in which the lies so many girls believe to their sorrow are actually true. Their parent's don't understand them (Bella's father is completely out to lunch). They are more mature for their age. They should have relations with older men, even if the man is infinitely older. Her maturity will make them equals. The bad boy really is a good guy, if only he met the right girl. Someone like... me. This story turns on all these points, and shows them to be true in Bella's case. If there is something dangerous within this book, this is it.
I may let Elder continue reading, but I have given her a condition. She is to treat the book like a scarecrow. Before she starts trying to read this novel, she must first intone the following: "Bella is an idiot. Bella is a moron. I am not like Bella. By the Grace of God, I pray I may never be like Bella.
"Amen"
Now I just got find a away to skip out of vetting novels 3, 4 and any other number that comes along, before Egyptian Mummies start showing up. I only wish these novels were written on soft absorbent 3-ply paper. Then I could get some use out of it. I remember a Russian author's response to a bad review of one of his books (not exactly Catholic alert):
"Dear sir.
I am sitting in the smallest room in my house. Your article is in front of me. Soon it will be behind me.
Sincerely,
x."
Exactly.
What mess? you ask. Why the mess that comes when Puff and I decided to start vetting the books our eldest daughter reads. The one my wife posted about a while back comes with a series. I got stuck with number two.
I got stuck vetting another series back in the late '90's or early 2000's. My wife, who at the time worked at a daycare centre came home with a book. She explained that the day care centre was considering putting this title into their library, but were concerned because a number of places, mostly in the States, were banning it. They asked her to read it because she had an English degree. She asked me to read it because I had almost three English degrees.
It was a dark period in my life. I had come to the realization that I was not going to get my Ph.D, that I was more or less stuck where I was. After being forced during the course of my degrees to read books about books about books, or books that tried to structure a hypothetical/theoretical position from which one may begin to have a discussion about how to approach a work of literary art, I had pretty much given up on reading. So my reaction was bleak. "It has come to this," I said to myself. "I, Bear, B.A. M.A., all but dissertation on my Ph.D, am now a reader of children's books for day care centres. Lord, end my suffering, please."
The Lord did not end my suffering, and I sighed and sat down and began reading the first of the Harry Potter novels. I expected a long slow drag, but instead I found that time flew, and before I knew it, I was at the end, and wondering what happened next. The book wasn't great, but it was good, and it had a lot of quirky humour in it. I went out and got my own copy of the book, and then began to get the rest of the series.
I feel I owe Rowling a debt of gratitude, for it was through her that I remembered my long suppressed love of good stories. It rekindled my fondness for children's writing. All too often the so-called adult writing relies on the visceral thrills of sex and violence to cover over the lack of style and story. Children's writing, without these crutches, has to resort to good storytelling. I began reading again, and although I did find a few clunkers, I remembered Pliny Major's dictum: "I never saw a book so bad I did not get some good from it."
Well that's out the window. Pliny never read the Twilight series, or he would have qualified that statement. The books are terrible. The writing is horrible. The 'story', so-called, is told from the point of view of a late teen girl, who is in love with vampire. They love as no two have ever loved before, nor ever shall again, blah blah blah. Every word this girl puts on the page is a reiteration and restatement of two facts:
1. My life sucks; and
2. That pale guy is cute.
I used to observe the teen girls around me when I was a teenager. There was a certain coterie of them that I believed were the most vapid, shallow and stupid creatures put upon the earth. They were the ones who thought they were the most mature and sophisticated people there ever were.
Now, I know most of you ladies out there probably believe that girls mature faster than boys. In all honesty, I never saw it. It really came down to the individuals. I thought, and still do, that if you were to take one hundred boys and one hundred girls, pair them off at random, and administer some kind of objective maturity test, maybe 51 girls would be more mature than the boys, and only 48 of the boys more so than the girls, with one tie. Now, I know boys have their signature immaturities- usually gross, involving bodily fluids and/or sex jokes, and potentially fatal habits. Girls, however, have their own signature immaturity, and believing they are more mature than they are is it. This is Bella, the main character of the novel.
She is seventeen going on eighteen. Her boyfriend, Edward, is forever seventeen. She wants to be with him forever. He is also slightly the bad boy, but also polite and self controlled, not like those other boys. He is also more mature than the other boys, as he should be since he is really over one hundred years old. (Question: aren't there laws against this sort of thing?) He's also a hunk. a hunk like no other, yadda yadda yadda. Really, take away the vampire stuff and you got the same drivel I heard from a dozen girls who fell in love with the quarterback/rebel/drug addict who just needed someone to understand him. The girls then got pregnant, dumped, and now flip burgers at McD's, while going home to look after their grandchildren.
Somehow this stuff plays for the teen girls. For me, I find myself debating whether to turn the page, or gouge out my eyeballs.
It all takes place in a small town, naturally- dark forces always swirl about the small towns. Nothing bad ever happens in the big city. The characters are dumb. I can't even relate to the male characters. Take her father, the town Sheriff. Edward breaks Bella's heart. For four months Bella mopes around the house in the throes of the deepest (yawn) depression. I have long since decided that if any boy causes either of my daughters to shed a single tear of sorrow I will hunt them to the ends of the earth and rend them to pieces with my bare hands. I will carry their bloody head back to my home and mount it on a stake outside as a warning to all others who would dare harm my daughters. If anyone should consider this action to be 'criminal' and charge me with something or other, I will simply stack the jury with fathers who have daughters, and I will walk away a free man. And possibly father of the year.
So what does Bella's father do? He decides to send her to her mother to see if the mother can make her feel better. This is a modern man? The guy's the town Sheriff, for cryin' out loud. Not only is he packing heat, he would investigate the boy's disappearance. Think of the possibilities:
Deputy to Sheriff: "The boy who dated your daughter has been found dead in a shallow grave outside of town with five bullets in his head."
Sheriff: "Sounds like natural causes to me."
Deputy, writing on his pad: "Natural causes it is. By the way, my daughter's going out on a date this Friday...."
Sheriff, nodding: "Natural causes?"
Deputy: "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Act of God'...."
Sheriff: "Deal."
Moving on. In this stupid book, as far as I've gotten, the vampires have left, and now some werewolves have shown up. How utterly unpredictable. Things sure do get bad in these small towns. How many shark's chewed their way through Amity? And if you change the name slightly to Amityville, then you got Satan showing up. Who ever could have predicted that Werewolves would show up in a vampire novel? This is unheard of.
Second, why werewolves? Why can't we have some other kind of creature, just to shake things up a bit? A werebear, or a weresnake, or even better, a werecockroach! Imagine the possibilities of a such a virtually indestructible creature:
Werecockroach: "Your nuclear weapons don't scare me, you puny insignificant humans. Now hand over all your manure before things get really ugly."
Something, anything, to shake things up a bit. Any good author will write within the confines of a genre, but they will play with the rules, bend them here and there to make the story their own. This book, I see nothing. It's all: "My life sucks, Edward come back to me, my life has no meaning without you.... " And teenage girls identify with this?
I have theory as to why. It feeds into the lies and self-deception girls that age perform upon themselves. It is a story in which the lies so many girls believe to their sorrow are actually true. Their parent's don't understand them (Bella's father is completely out to lunch). They are more mature for their age. They should have relations with older men, even if the man is infinitely older. Her maturity will make them equals. The bad boy really is a good guy, if only he met the right girl. Someone like... me. This story turns on all these points, and shows them to be true in Bella's case. If there is something dangerous within this book, this is it.
I may let Elder continue reading, but I have given her a condition. She is to treat the book like a scarecrow. Before she starts trying to read this novel, she must first intone the following: "Bella is an idiot. Bella is a moron. I am not like Bella. By the Grace of God, I pray I may never be like Bella.
"Amen"
Now I just got find a away to skip out of vetting novels 3, 4 and any other number that comes along, before Egyptian Mummies start showing up. I only wish these novels were written on soft absorbent 3-ply paper. Then I could get some use out of it. I remember a Russian author's response to a bad review of one of his books (not exactly Catholic alert):
"Dear sir.
I am sitting in the smallest room in my house. Your article is in front of me. Soon it will be behind me.
Sincerely,
x."
Exactly.
19 October 2008
IT'S HALLOWE'EN
Elder's the vampiress
Younger's Queen Anne Boleyn
Puff's the seamtress
Bear's the Haberdasher
Not sure who is more frightening.
Now if only I could kind a Vet from whom to purchase a few poppies.
Younger's Queen Anne Boleyn
Puff's the seamtress
Bear's the Haberdasher
Not sure who is more frightening.
Now if only I could kind a Vet from whom to purchase a few poppies.
18 June 2008
From the Weekend
Last Saturday I went to one of Toronto's oldest churches for a bit of research. Whilst I was there, I noticed the light on in the confessional. As I have not been fro some time, I went in and confessed, finished my brief research, and returned home.
I should explain something here: I don't like going to confession. Never have. I suppose it's pride. I just don't like admitting I was wrong, though it seems to me I do it fairly often. Puff disagrees- she thinks I don't admit I'm wrong often enough. As a result of my attitude towards confession, I don't often take communion, as my soul is only rarely in any state to receive such a grace- if my soul can be said to ever be fit to receive that grace.
As a result, I could go to Communion on Sunday with my children. I had not realized what this meant to my elder daughter until I mentioned it to her on the way to church. "You'll take communion with me?" she said. "Oh good." Then she looked at me seriously. "Daddy, please, please try and be good for a while. I want us to go up to communion together more often."
I sometimes forget who's watching me, and how much. I need to be good not merely for my own sake, but for the sake of my daughters' as well, for they see and look to me for guidance, not only in my words, but in my actions as well. In my poverty, there are many things I can't afford to give my children. Though it costs nothing, I can't afford not to give my children a good example. There are many things I can give my children, but if I fail to give them a good example, I will have given them nothing.
I should explain something here: I don't like going to confession. Never have. I suppose it's pride. I just don't like admitting I was wrong, though it seems to me I do it fairly often. Puff disagrees- she thinks I don't admit I'm wrong often enough. As a result of my attitude towards confession, I don't often take communion, as my soul is only rarely in any state to receive such a grace- if my soul can be said to ever be fit to receive that grace.
As a result, I could go to Communion on Sunday with my children. I had not realized what this meant to my elder daughter until I mentioned it to her on the way to church. "You'll take communion with me?" she said. "Oh good." Then she looked at me seriously. "Daddy, please, please try and be good for a while. I want us to go up to communion together more often."
I sometimes forget who's watching me, and how much. I need to be good not merely for my own sake, but for the sake of my daughters' as well, for they see and look to me for guidance, not only in my words, but in my actions as well. In my poverty, there are many things I can't afford to give my children. Though it costs nothing, I can't afford not to give my children a good example. There are many things I can give my children, but if I fail to give them a good example, I will have given them nothing.
5 June 2008
From Puff: On the Mean Streets, Some Kindness
On the way home today, riding the TTC bus I witnessed traffic on a five lane street come to a standstill while a Mamma Canada Goose lead her three goslings with Papa Goose bringing up the rear across the road. It was absolutely beautiful. Everyone while rushing to get home stopping and giving this safe passage. Even when they reached the other side, the last lane waited while papa Goose helped a gosling hop the curb (When the gosling first tried, he flipped backward and fell into the road again. So Papa nudged him back up and stoop guard while the little one tried again.) All of a sudden getting home so quickly didn't seem so important any more. The cars waited patiently until all were off the road.
The sad thing is, that if traffic had been stopped because of an accident which had resulted in a human fatality, how many would have been as sympathetic?
The sad thing is, that if traffic had been stopped because of an accident which had resulted in a human fatality, how many would have been as sympathetic?
25 March 2008
Of Parents
MSN had an interesting little item up this morning: 10 Things No One Tells You About Parenting. It covers the basics, like "time? what time?" or the feeling of utter failure that comes from being a modern parent. I've composed a few lists like this myself from time to time, usually for people who are thinking about becoming a parent or who are about to become a parent for the first time. However, over time I have shrunk the list down to fewer and fewer. The last time someone asked, my list had one item on it.
"What can I do?" my friend asked me. "I don't know anything about being a father. What do I have to offer my children?"
There is only one thing that matters, I told him then, and that is to be a good example for your children. Of all the things you can do for them, or give them, this is the only one that counts: to give them a good, loving example. We may fail many times over. But our children will fail as well, and that is why our failures are an opportunity to show our children how to learn from failure, and rise again. It is a terrible burden but also a joyful honour to be a father, to know the children look to you for an example, and to know that you must provide it for them in everything. In how we treat people, in how we work, in our fun, in prosperity, in adversity, and in our faith, by our example we help to shape our children. If we give our children a good example, we will have given them everything they need. If we fail to give them a good example, though we give them everything else- playstations, cars, homes, an education, a fortune- we will have given them nothing.
My friend looked at me a little puzzled, and never brought the subject up again. Well, now I have an article and a website to send to him.
"What can I do?" my friend asked me. "I don't know anything about being a father. What do I have to offer my children?"
There is only one thing that matters, I told him then, and that is to be a good example for your children. Of all the things you can do for them, or give them, this is the only one that counts: to give them a good, loving example. We may fail many times over. But our children will fail as well, and that is why our failures are an opportunity to show our children how to learn from failure, and rise again. It is a terrible burden but also a joyful honour to be a father, to know the children look to you for an example, and to know that you must provide it for them in everything. In how we treat people, in how we work, in our fun, in prosperity, in adversity, and in our faith, by our example we help to shape our children. If we give our children a good example, we will have given them everything they need. If we fail to give them a good example, though we give them everything else- playstations, cars, homes, an education, a fortune- we will have given them nothing.
My friend looked at me a little puzzled, and never brought the subject up again. Well, now I have an article and a website to send to him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)