It’s hard to know where to start besides the obvious: READ THIS BOOK.
Quick Plot Summary: The Hate U Give is about a sixteen-year-old African American girl caught between the two worlds she inhabits: Garden City, the economically disadvantaged neighborhood where she lives, and Williamson Prep, the elite private school she attends in the suburbs. In her struggle to belong in both worlds, we see Starr constantly jockeying to make the transition between home and school appear seamless.
In and of itself, that alone could fill a book, but first-time novelist Angie Thomas has decided to take on an incendiary current issue besides. She puts Starr in a car with a childhood friend when he is pulled over by the police, shot, and killed. As the sole witness, Starr has to grapple with a difficult choice: whether to speak up on Khalil’s behalf, or maintain her safety and anonymity at the expense of justice. Continue reading “The Hate U Give”
Indigenous Peoples’ Day approacheth–and that’s not the only reason I’ve been thinking about the native peoples of the United States recently. The Dakota pipeline controversy erupting through the midwest is a reminder that a long and bitter legacy of disrespect continues.
I chose this particular activity because it was from the Hohokam people–of whom I’ve never heard, not even once. Since theHohokam lived in what is now central and southern Arizona from around 200 to 1400, let’s hope I would have studied them had I grown up in the Southwest. Note: I include a pathetically brief overview at the end of this activity.
Hohokam people gathered shells from the nearby Gulf of California, and were highly skilled shell artisans. In particular, they are known for etching shells, and are probably the first people to ever etch objects of any sort, despite Wikipedia’s apparent ignorance on the matter. Traditionally, they would cover a shell with a protective substance—sap or pitch from the trees—and use a tool to scratch off the design they wished to create: animals such as lizards and frogs, or geometric patterns, for example. These shells were then soaked in an acidic liquid (probably fermented cactus juice) to eat away the exposed areas. Finally, the pitch was scraped off. The shells might be painted as a finishing touch. You can read more here.
To recreate their craft, we will use supplies more readily available these days, and our process will actually work in the reverse. Instead of etching the design into the shell, our design will be in relief, while the rest of the shell is worn away by the acid. Continue reading “Hohokam Shell Etching”
Just read Leslie Blanchard’s essay about her approach to the problem of bullying: making sure that her child sees outsiders as a human beings. I have pasted it here, but you can click here for the original link.
A note from Beret: In the comments section of the Ms. Blanchard’s article, I noticed that some folks interpreted the author’s intervention as “forcing a friendship.” By my reading, she was merely teaching her daughter the power of social capital, and insisting that she take the time to meet someone before deciding she didn’t like them. That seems reasonable and potentially life-changing for both sides of the bullying equation.
Puberty is a wild ride; I must have forgotten. Or maybe–despite the hideously awkward classroom discussions and cheesy pamphlets–I just experienced puberty as my own ridiculously crazy life, rather than as a period of adjustment and development that everyone experiences.
Most even survive.
As the parent of two tweens, I get to relive plenty of adolescent drama and excitement, and this time around, I’m hyper-conscious about what I do and say that might impact the way my girls are thinking about their own health, beauty, and developing bodies. I want them to know that they are growing and changing in just the right way; that human beings are beautiful, and that each and every one deserves respect and kindness no matter what they look like.
Well, almost everyone.
I want to set my girls firmly on a path away from self-doubt and—I’ll be honest here, though it’s terrifying to do so–as far from self-loathing, eating disorders, cutting, binge drinking, and drug use as possible. I thought I’d start my campaign by addressing the issue of healthy body image. But how to tackle it? And am I far too late? Continue reading “On Barbies and Bodies and Beauty”
Growing up, I got dessert now and then, but candy was a rare commodity. All we had was a value pack of Trident in the kitchen cupboard, tucked between the mixing bowls and the vitamins. I had to hoard my Halloween stash and divvy it out slowly, making it last until Easter, which was the only other time of year that candy was prevalent.
Now I’ve got two kids of my own. For a while, both seemed equipped with the same level of restraint–despite the fact that I don’t mind having a little candy around the house–but once the oldest hit puberty, she went nuts. She’s become a maniacal candy hound, the likes of which I haven’t seen since The Great Cornholio. I don’t even know where she gets most of it. Now I find wrappers stuffed in the car door, on the bookshelf, in her pockets, bags, and between the cushions of the couch. “Why do you put the gummy bears in the cupboard where I can find them?” she asked one day, when I walked in and found her holding an empty bag.
It was time to find a way to satisfy her cravings for sweets without her sneaking around, binging on corn syrup and food dye.
Reading level: 4-6 grade. The protagonist is in sixth grade, however, and she wouldn’t have been able to read it. In fact, that’s the point. This book is for anyone who has ever struggled in school or felt like they didn’t fit in.
One rainy day last July, I wandered into a bookshop and accidentally left with a stack of five new hardcovers. Just what I needed for my suitcase.
The clerk was lovely. She agreed enthusiastically with all of my opinions–which is terribly charming–and I bought Fish in a Tree based on her recommendation and its adorable cover. So much for judging books by their contents…although, I finished it last night, and that’s what I’m set to do now.
A few weeks ago, I was on a plane watching an endless parade of Buzzfeed clips. My hour of debauchery was made possible by Virgin Airlines, who gave my kids an entertainment IV, and gave me an adult beverage and my own remote. That doesn’t happen often at home.