Broom Cupboards and Ballrooms

I've been thinking a lot this week about an article by Hugh Nibley called "Goods of First and Second Intent." It was from an address given to a group of retired teachers more than twenty years ago, but it is still true. The article discusses the different desires that we can have - goods of first intent that are what make life worth living and you can never get enough of, and goods of second intent that are good for you, but only if you use them to obtain goods of first intent. If they are not used properly, you can become addicted and harmed by them. (Money, for example, is a good of second intent.)

At one point in the article, Nibley points out that most people spend far too much of their time pursuing goods of second intent and neglect the things of eternity - he refers to Arthur Clarke's description of a man who had inherited a magnificent palace but instead preferred to spend all of his time in a broom cupboard.

I've been thinking about this because of an experience I had this week with a parent who, to save you all the frustrating and ridiculous details, pulled her child from my class because I was being too effective. I hold an optional mentoring/study session once a week for students in this class that her son would not be able to attend because of other commitments. After a very interesting conversation the result was pulling the child from the class entirely because she didn't want the child to miss a single breath of what went on in class. (I believe the phrase "I am having difficulty with this 'students are to be responsible' concept" was used.)

This is such a typical attitude in certain circles of my community. They imagine things they way they think it should be, and then one thing shifts or changes or moves the cheese, and the solution is not to adapt, but to throw out everything. The baby, the bathwater, the bathroom, the whole house or neighborhood if necessary - but it all goes.

It baffled me. It still baffles me. It baffles me that this woman would, presumably, have been happier of the study period was a waste of everyone's time instead of a valuable asset. It baffles me that her solution to missing part is to miss all, when her child - as far as I've been able to tell - would be perfectly capable in this class with or without the extra reminders on assignments. It reminds me of an experience I had last year when a student was pulled from my class in the first few weeks of school because the student was stressed about doing well - but mostly because the parent just wanted the kid at home more often. (The kid wanted to stay in class, and would have done well.)

These examples are of parents - who should be the greatest advocates of their children learning and growing in independence and skill - secluding their children away into broom cupboards by force. That makes me feel sick enough as it is. But how often do the rest of us voluntarily turn away from new opportunities or places for growth and stay in symbolic broom cupboards for the rest of our lives? Seems downright claustrophobic to me. There is a world of truth and light out there just waiting to be explored, and I, for one, look better and feel better in a ball gown than I do in rags.

The Problem with Ariel

My grandparents have a rock outside their house that is slightly slanted. When I was about two feet tall it seemed enormous and exactly perfect for playing Ariel on. You know the part. The end of the "Part of Your World" reprise with the water splashing up at just the right time for dramatic emphasis. I'd crawl up there and pretend that I was by the ocean and not the road and getting sprayed in the face with water and not occasional gas fumes.

As I grew older and the rock grew smaller, my love of Ariel waned a bit. She seemed selfish instead of admirable (and it was easy to get distracted by her gravity defying 80s hair.) Her catch phrase of "I WANT MORE!" made me want to smack her upside the head. "You have gadgets and gizmos and whosits and whatsits and thingamabobs and you want more?!" What kind of role model is that for a girl?

But I've started to re-examine Ariel recently. You can certainly look at her story as being somewhat selfish and obnoxiously teenaged where a father doesn't stand up to his daughter and instead indulges her whims, but this year I've gained new appreciation for what happens when parents actually hold their children back from progressing and achieving and becoming the best version of themselves that they can.

For instance, I've worked with students who have been pulled out of normal classes because their parents are afraid they are spending too much time out of home. I've had students pulled out of classes because they are too stressed. I've had students who are very talented in certain areas express frustration when their parents don't understand the talent they possess, and, as a result, criticize their hard work.

Now, I'm not a parent. I'm very well aware of this. I also recognize that I am not an insider to either families of my students and am not the best qualified to make decisions for them. So I'm going to go back to Ariel. If you look at Ariel another way, she's not wanting more for the sake of wanting more - what she wants is experience. She wants the chance to try something new. Her father's insistence on keeping her where she is and holding her back in her case only magnifies the problem and forces her into the rebellion he was hoping to prevent. She goes to drastic measures (re: selling her voice to Ursula) to get what she wants and nearly ruins herself as a result. Fortunately, it turns out well for her in the end, but the real application of this story is that parents who shelter their children run the risk of creating exactly what they try to avoid: rebellion.

One thing Ken Robinson discusses in his book Out of Our Minds is that one of the quickest ways to stifle creativity and progress out of people is to force them or encourage them to avoid something they are passionate about. He argues that if a person is interested in something, they are much more likely to do a better job with what they are given, even if it is hard. This is all fine and great on electronic or physical paper. Yay for people pursuing their dreams! But what if said person's dream is to become the world's greatest mass murderer? What do you do then? Obviously that's a bit of an extreme example - so what about something smaller and less destructive: what if this person's dream is to travel the world as a nomad selling homemade trinkets to pay the way and to get to know the cultures of the world by experience instead of by book? What is a parent to do then?

Well. . . I'm not a parent. I don't know. But I do know that God values agency so much that He was willing to let us fail and take chances and make fools of ourselves. I also remember a conversation I had with my mother once about a family friend whose child had struggled for many years but had recently pulled her life back together. Our family friend had a conversation once when her daughter was young where a well meaning person had told her that she would struggle with her daughter because she was so stubborn. Our very wise family friend responded correctly that she couldn't control her daughter's agency and wouldn't try. What she would do is teach correct principles and know that, because the principles are true, they would win out in the end. And she was right.

Moral of the story?: We should have a little more faith in our children and in our faith. Also, Ariel was on to something.

Lessons I've learned

This last week has been kind of a whirlwind. There is so much to say that I've decided it's time for another list post. Aren't we excited? Wahoo!

1. There is 100% chance that if you walk into a Junior High in Orem right now, you will hear someone singing High School Musical. How do I know this? Because for the last week I have been doing my pre-English teaching program for half days at Canyon View. It's been an experience, I can tell you. Six in the morning does not agree with me. This rotten combination of being a teacher and a student and an employee every day from six until eleven at night is horrid. The teaching experience itself is fun enough, though (minus the continual references to Zac Efron). It reminds me of a line in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix during the first DA meeting. There's a line in the narration that says something to the effect of "it was strange to be issuing orders, but even more strange to be seeing them followed". Yup. That's about right.

2. Romeo and Juliet is the most irritating play in the world. For six hours of the last week in CVJH I watched Romeo and Juliet pop their clogs six times. Ugh. It's so irritating. What on earth does that play solve? I have never understood why people think it's so romantic. I prefer the end to the parody play Romeo, you Idiot. In the end of that play everyone dies. It's wonderful! Just kill them off! Get rid of them! It's convenient, isn't it? The end of that show? It ends like a Jane Austen novel. You don't ever find out what happens in the end. Does the friar get away with it? Do the Capulets and Montegues ever send each other Christmas cards? It's so lame. If and when I end up teaching Shakespeare in High School, I will not teach Romeo and Juliet if I can get away with it. At least not to hormonal, emotionally driven 14 year olds. Midsummer Night's Dream it is for me. I will say though, the best part about all of it was in the modern version (from 1996) when Juliet shoots herself. One of the girls jumped about five feet in the air, I'm not kidding. And then going around and looking at all the venn diagrams they've made comparing the two versions and seeing things like "This Juliet is HOTT!" and "Romeo looks like Zac Efron" (I'm telling you, those girls have an Efron radar).

3. I have a new-found appreciation for sisterhood. Sometimes (being the liberal arts/humanities student I am), I get into a mode of independence that seems kind of popular for college girls to take. But there really is something unique and wonderful about being a woman. We have the ability to pull together in a time of crisis that is rather remarkable. This last weekend I received a rather frantic phone call from a friend half desperate for someone to just be there for her. I rushed home and spent the next eight or so hours trying to help her out - turns out her fiance had broken up with her. Over a text message no less. Within minutes we had reinforcements called in and a whole group of girls asking what they could do to help. Chocolate and cookies and Kleenex were pulled out of the woodwork. Somewhere among the tears and tragedy I took a few moments to really appreciate how good girls are at pulling together and dropping everything to help out during an emotional crisis. Girls can be pretty irritating and petty, but when it comes down to it, we don't like to watch other people hurt.

4. I also have wonderful parents. I'm lucky enough to be friends with my parents. I don't know how they managed to foster that kind of relationship between us, but I'm glad they did. There is a really healthy balance between friend and parent that they both manage to switch through at the right moments. They take care of me and let me fall on my face and make sure I have what I need (and don't need, sometimes).

5. I'm still mad about the end of Robin Hood. For different ways now. The annoying thing about the BBC is that they don't handle things in the same way as most American networks. When something happens in American television that's a bit drastic, within the next three days there will be huge press releases and interviews with the stars and plenty of information given to the public about the hows and whys of whatever happened. It's wonderful. Unlike the BBC. They have been resolutely silent on all things finale. The only thing they've said at all has come in the form of a quietly circulated email responding to a random selection of people who sent letters of annoyance. The letter more or less says four things: a. We're sorry you don't like it. Robin loves Marian, we know. So we had to do something drastic. (non sequitor much?); b. Don't worry. Guy will feel very badly for what he has done (as if I care. If they killed Marian off because of GUY's character arch that's the worst excuse in the world. The show isn't about him, morons.); c. We killed her off to make room for other characters and storylines (because Marian has been so intrusive on those extra characters and storylines before. Oh. Wait. She's usually been at the center of the introduction of those new storylines and characters.); and d. We hope you'll still watch season three and many more years of Robin Hood (yes. They said years. In the plural. Obviously they haven't noticed that they've already successfully massacred their own story. They really are that oblivious). In brighter news, I finally managed to get a friend of mine to return my season one on DVD. I've decided something: season one is the only real season. Season two is fine until episode seven. At this point, Marian is in the woods, people are happy. The rest of the season is like fan fiction. I'll skip to the parts that are good and worth watching, and assume that the last two episodes are a bunch of (insert appropriate expletive here). I've actually given the last episode a name. It is now fondly known as "the Scottish Apocrypha that shall not be named". Work that one out for yourself.

6. I started writing this about five hours ago. I stopped to do laundry and shower and eat something that might be called lunch and do nothing at all productive. I've been in sweats all day. I spent three hours watching television and I really hate most television. So much for being productive on the holiday.

7. I saw Juno this weekend. I highly recommend it. My favorite line was "Because doctors are sadists who think they're God and like to watch lesser people suffer". (or something like that). It's the first time in a long time I've been to a movie that genuinely took me by surprise with the humor.

8. I'm still working on that piece from England with all the journal entries that I posted on here earlier. It's getting better. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it, though. I mean, I'm enjoying writing it. It's been a long time since I've written something that consumed me so much. But there is absolutely zero market for young-adult travel writing, and who the heck would want to read about my trip anyway? I mean, I don't think I'm a horrible writer. I find myself semi-entertaining most of the time (it's because I don't sleep and everything is funnier when you haven't slept). But who would want to waste that much time reading something I've done? I don't know. But I don't feel like giving up on it yet, so I'm going to keep forging ahead. If you hear of anyone who is interested in starting a market for travel writing, let me know. Then maybe when I'm famous people will pay to send me around the world so I can write about it! Gah. That would be the coolest job EVER.

Stupid People

Kind of a broad title, isn't it? There are plenty of stupid people in the world. But my purpose today is to rag on two groups of people who annoyed me specifically this week.

I work at a bookstore. Two years ago a new Barnes and Noble was built in my area and I got hired. I spend most of my time in the children's section because that's where I'm comfortable. I know the area like the back of my hand (though the new head of the children's department would probably disagree. She always catches me looking up a book that she knows. It's a bit embarrassing). Working in the children's section, books are often out of order. Mostly because kids pull books off the shelves and look at them, and leave them where they looked at them. Stuffed animals are always on the floor, chairs are always turned upside-down, but that's just part of the business. It makes it fun-trying to hunt down a fiction novel that somehow ended up in the middle of the science fiction section when a parent tries to reshelve something quickly so they can leave.

In all honesty, I would rather parents let their children leave books on the tables. It's not good store etiquette, sure, but it's easier for me to put them back where they belong than to try and find them in the far reaches of the store. The part of the store that eats books like washing machines eat socks.

However.

Last Saturday, a mother and her two children managed to pull 27 books off the shelf. 27! While their mother was looking at this month's enlightening magazines (People, US, Life and Style...Etc. All the ones that are obsessed with the Cruise/Holmes lack of baby), her children managed to do what no two children have ever managed before. Now, normally when kids pull books off shelves and they get left, I can understand. Shopping with children is hard. Parents often just don't notice. But this mother sat for about a half an hour reading through magazines while her kids did this, then left the five or six magazines on the chair and all 27 books on the table and left.

My point here is this: Whatever happened to parents teaching their kids manners in public places? I'm not talking just bookstores. Like I said earlier, I'd rather clean up after them then try to find where all 27 books went. But shouldn't she have made sure that it was only two books? Maybe four? I see parents letting their children boss them around, I see kids yelling and throwing fits when they don't get what they want. I see so many displays of bad manners everywhere I shop that it's starting to tick me off. I hear of parents letting their kids decide when they go to bed. Three year olds deciding on a bedtime? Ten year olds with cell phones? I guess this is my non-sequitur way of saying that our 'free thinking' society has gone mad. Traditional family units are out of date and values that were once considered essential are completely gone. I don't have time to go into a huge lecture about every flaw of American society right now-so I'll just settle for my original point. I'm not sure if I ever got there, but I was intending to point out that parents should take more interest in the upbringing of their children.

"And now for something completely different."

I spent most of my time at the bookstore last Saturday shelving books. It's not uncommon for me to stop and take a quick second to read the synopsis. Sometimes it's out of curiosity because the book looks mildly interesting, and sometimes it's because I wonder how certain books got published in the first place. Maybe I was reading more covers than normal, but I must have seen at least five books where a reviewer had compared a science fiction/fantasy type book to Harry Potter or used JK Rowling to praise the book. I'm only annoyed with one of these. Jo can review the books she likes-I trust her judgment.

What bothers me are the people who compare their books to Harry Potter by shoving a review on the back that says something like "read this while waiting for Potter" or "better than Harry Potter" or "the Harry Potter for grown ups!". It's like those people in high school who try and gain popularity by saying something like "I'm related to (insert movie star here)".

If a book deserved to be compared to Harry Potter, then it wouldn't bother me. But none of them do. They are poorly written and constructed, they have boring, simplified plotlines and flat, unoriginal characters that are extremely predictable. It's like a bad combover. The publishers try to give the appearance of hair (comparing the book to Potter), but really, the book is just bald (unable to do anything of merit on it's own, so it resorts to appealing to a phenomenon). It's ridiculous.

On a more positive note, Muggle Net has published the first picture of Tonks for Harry 5! I'm loving the purple hair.