"I Hear America Singing..."

One of the advantages that I gain from working everyday with young people is the opportunity to discuss music of nearly every kind. I am sure some of my students have rolled their eyes when someone brought up a particular song or someone has written a line from his favorite song on the board. However, I truly feel these discussions are worthwhile and valuable. Nearly every genre, from rap to classic rock, from country to hardcore ("It's not screamo!"), offers its own unique imagery and message. Letting kids discuss the imagery in a Jay-Z verse, make a connection between a speech from Romeo and Juliet and songs by Ludo or The Band Perry, and recognize the irony in the tone and message of a piece from FUN has revealed volumes to me about how those young people view what we are reading, what they see and listen to, and the world around them.

I think that is one of the things I usually miss in the summer. I do not get to have those conversations with a wide variety of kids on a daily basis. However, I am lucky enough to have two kids in my house who are willing to take the time to think about what they listen to and discuss it with me. It is one of the many ways my own kids bless me. The other day my son, a sixth-grader, asked me what a martyr is; he had heard the word in the song "Some Nights" while riding in my truck. An hour later, he came into the kitchen and explained to me what he thought the line meant in the context of the song. He had found it online and listened to it again, trying to figure out what "I found a martyr in my bed tonight" could possibly mean. He looked at it in a completely different way than I had. It made sense, and it was insightful. Likewise, my daughter Emily posted on twitter after we had seen The Great Gatsby that she was frustrated by those who immediately criticized the film for its use of modern music. She felt the musical selections deserved a closer examination before simply disregarding them as "Hollywooding-up" the classic. Many of the songs convey themes about appearances often hiding darker truth, and how morals and what society accepts change. Everyone wants to be in the "club", whether that meant attending Gatsby's parties or appearing at a fundraiser for President Obama at Jay-Z's 40/40 Club, but no one wants to be associated with someone as despicable as a bootlegger or drug dealer. Not until they have purchased a huge house and a flashy car anyway. There is so much to look at there, so much to think about, but it takes some closer examination.

So I am fortunate enough this summer to have my own kids provide me that link to what is fresh, and I am apparently not so much of an old man that it would be too uncool to talk about music with me. Not to them anyway. Thank the Lord for that. Add to that that Emily has recently discovered that she has a strong appreciation for Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, and this summer holds great promise for me, musically. I better close now; the radio's on, and they are playing my jam.

Observation Made While Writing

As I look down now at my hand, a hand which has pulled to me a beautiful woman who brightens my world, a hand which has held two miracles born of that angel and this poor mortal, a hand has felt my father’s firm handshake and been clasped by a loving mother, a hand which has offered friendship and aid as well as disregard and belligerence, as I look down now at this hand, I am struck by this observation: a pen is constructed so that the printing on the side is upside down if one holds it in his left hand to write.  It does not matter the brand or the quality. It matters not if I am scribbling my name on a gas receipt or signing an insurance policy: the printing is upside down.

That doesn’t seem right.  It seems unfair. It is as if those who possess the strength of the left hand and the sharpness of the right brain are somehow unworthy of this tiniest bit of information. I must twist my head awkwardly, almost comically, just so I can see who produced this fine instrument or which drug company chose cheap ballpoints to push the latest antidepressant or erectile dysfunction silver bullet. Honestly though, is there a more fitting tool for advertising ED meds than a pen?

Still I must ask: What have I done to deserve such treatment? What is the genesis of this bias? How am I, and those like me, to take this slight, this subtle “spit in the face”? Am I to feel inadequate, unappreciated, or belittled because I cannot effortlessly glance down to see that Bic is the culprit that produced the gloppy, smudgy, barely legible collection of scribblings now before me?

Probably not.  Let’s face it: it’s just a pen.

"Here We Go"

So, I know I am technically somewhat late to the blogging game, but I have decided it is time for me to dive in and begin a blog of my own.  Actually, I was inspired to to so by a student of mine who sent me a link to her blog. She told me that she was hoping to keep in the habit of writing over the summer, and that hopefully blogging would be a good outlet.  I completely agree and am excited that she is writing.  At a conference I attended this spring, Amy Benjamin said something along the lines of "Sometimes we think of something and we have to write it, but often, we have to write so we can think." Personally, I agree with this idea. When we write, we think. It may not always lead us to something incredible or revolutionary, but the simple act of writing forces us to think, and that is always a good thing.

No one else may read this, but if you are that poor, bored soul who has stumbled upon this blog, thank you for reading this far. I have no idea how often I will write here, or how extensive the posts will be, but I will be writing, and, therefore, thinking, which, in turn, may lead to more writing. Feel free to point out errors in the writing posted here, especially if your name is Lacy Pitts because she has earned the chance to illuminate the flaws in my writing. I am sure my resident member of the Grammar Police, Emily Kohls, will jump on that opportunity as well.

So, here we go.