Thursday’s Book Review: Esperanza Rising by Pam Munoz Ryan

Drawing on her own family history, Pam Munoz Ryan tells the story of a young Mexican girl, Esperanza, living during the time of the Great Depression in America.  She is the cherished daughter of a wealthy padrone, and lives in luxury and ease until political upheaval and the greed of her own step-uncles rob Esperanza of both her father and her wealth, and send her fleeing to California with her mother for safety. 

Esperanza quickly learns that America is not the answer to all her problems.  Nor does it provide the new life Miguel, her friend and former servant, hopes for.  There is still the vast divide between rich and poor, only now those inequalities are compounded by differences in language and race.  Ryan wields these issues deftly.  They never become oppressive or political.  She keeps everything true to what Esperanza sees and experiences.

Esperanza is the perfect representative for the plight of the poor laborer.   She is incredibly wealthy before her troubles begin, so she experiences what it means to be poor for the first time, and we see it through her eyes.  It is a rag to riches story in reverse.  And it does not end with an easy answer.  Only the reassurance that life’s most important riches are family, friends, the fruit of the land, and the power of hope.

Monday’s Portrait: Portrait of a Rainbow

Saturday evening we drove home from a bike race up in Park City, happy, tired and covered in dirt.  When we turned into our quiet town, we looked up to see this welcoming us home:  

It arched, end to end, over Alpine.  We followed its ribbon of color to see if we could find the elusive rainbow’s end.  Of course we never could quite reach it, but the colors were so vivid, it really did seem we could reach out and catch hold of it.

Moments after coming home the sun broke out from behind the clouds and the rainbow was gone, but it left its imprint in my mind, along with these words by William Wordsworth:

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky;

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

 

Thursday’s Book Review: Summer Reading – Human Rights

Human rights sounds like a serious topic for summer reading, but this selection of books has been one of the best things about our summer so far.  Of course the kids would probably rank Monday’s fireworks WAY above the book reports we worked on together, but one of my happiest moments as a mom – ever – was listening to my three oldest kids present their books to each other. 

At the beginning of the summer I decided to have my kids write reports for each month of summer vacation, and for June’s report I wanted to talk about the way people are sometimes treated when they are different.  I found a book for each of my kids that centers on some aspect of human rights.  They read the books and answered some questions I put together for them, and then we presented our books to each other and had a wonderful discussion.

My ten-year old, Hunter, loves engineering and science and knowing about how things work.  Lately he has been interested in learning about World War II.  Particulary the aircraft and the battles.  He is a serious boy, who thinks about serious things.  So I thought he was ready to read Susan Bartoletti’s historical fiction, The Boy Who Dared: a Novel Based on the True Story of a Hitler Youth.  It is the story of a young German boy who finds himself a part of Hitler Youth.  He is forced to do things that go deeply against his conscious, like writing a report about how Hitler is the savior of Germany when he knows otherwise.  He has a shortwave radio and has been listening to BBC reports about the war.  He knows that Hitler’s propaganda is false and feels like he must do something about it.  He uses his skill as a writer to secretly get the truth out, but he is arrested for it, and ultimately, in the final pages of the book, executed.  I know that is a major spoiler, but it might make the book too difficult for some younger readers, so I thought I should put it out there.  Here is Hunter’s response to the questions I gave him: 

“In the books we read, people are treated badly because they are somehow different from others.  For your report, answer the following questions:”

1) Who gets treated differently and why?

Jews.  Hitler always hated Jews, and when he comes to full power he sends them to horrible places, closes their businesses, and makes them wear different clothes so everyone will know they’re different.

2) What do you think about the way your character or people in your book are treated?

Putting people in jail and killing them for their beliefs or for telling the truth is horrible.

3) How does the protagonist show courage?

By showing the people of Germany the truth about the Government and by trying to stand against what the Government was doing.

4) How should we treat people who are different from us?

Treat them like your brother or sister.  Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, so try and find their strengths and forget their weaknesses.

My eight-year old, Hattie, is an inquistive, independent soul who sometimes has a hard time understanding when people act, look, or think differently than she does.  I thought it would be good for her to read Rickshaw Girl, by Mitali Perkins, a story set in India about a girl named Naima.  Naima is a talented artist and the daughter of hard-working rickshaw driver.  When her father gets sick and can no longer pull the rickshaw, Naima wants to help her family.  She sees her friend Saleem, the neighbor boy, pulling a rickshaw and decides she can do the same.  But because she is a girl, this is not allowed.  Naima is frustrated, but determined.  She manages to find a way to help her family that is appropriate for a girl in India, using her artistic talents.  Here are Hattie’s answers to the questions:

1) Who gets treated differently and why?

The girls get treated differently because the boys think the girls aren’t strong enough.

2) What do you think about the way your character or people in your book are treated?

I wouldn’t like not getting to work.  They weren’t treating the girls fair.

3) How does the protagonist show courage?

She tried working even though she was a girl.

4) How should we treat people who are different from us?

We should play with them and be kind to them.

My six year old, Sawyer, and I read his book together.  He is a tender-hearted little guy, who hates to be teased.  We read  Thank you, Mr. Falker by Patricia Polacco.  It is a book based on Polacco’s own childhood, about a young girl, Trisha, who can’t read no matter how hard she tries.  Children tease her all through grade school until she finally gets a teacher who tries to understand her plight, Mr. Falker.  With Mr. Falker’s help, Trisha learns that the kids at school have been wrong about her.  She isn’t dumb.  She can read, and words become as sweet to her as honey to a bee.  Here are Sawyer’s answers to my questions:

1) Who gets treated differently and why?

Trisha, because she doesn’t know how to read very well.

2) What do you think about the way your character or people in your book are treated?

I felt bad for Trisha, because people weren’t treating her very nice.

3) How does the protagonist show courage?

She doesn’t get mad at the other kids, she just works hard at learning to read.

4) How should we treat people who are different from us?

We should be nice, because everyone is our friend.

I was so pleased with my children’s thoughtful responses to the books they read, and so grateful for excellent children’s literature that can open their eyes to worlds and people beyond their own neighborhood.

Thursday’s Book Review: Cesar’s Way by Cesar Millan

A few weeks before we brought our new puppy home, I spent all my reading time trying to figure out how to care for and raise a happy and healthy dog.  By the time I’d finished my stack of books, I was convinced I knew everything about dogs, and would be able to handle any situation we might encounter.  You would think four kids would have taught me otherwise.  Now that we’ve had the puppy for three weeks, I’m sufficiently humbled.  I’m not sure any of the books I read could have totally prepared me, but I really enjoyed Cesar’s Way by the renowned “dog whisperer” Cesar Milan.

The first part of the book reads like a personal history.  Milan describes his early experiences and connection with dogs on his family’s farm in Mexico, and what it was like for him to immigrate to the United States.  The autobiographical portion of the book is relevant to his overall message, because he approaches dog training and his work with dog rehabilitation as an outsider to the American way of perceiving dogs and pets.  Milan believes that American dogs often suffer under the care of well-intentioned owners because they are treated like people instead of like dogs, and this can cause anxiety, confusion, and fear.  

Milan’s basic premise is that dog’s need strong ‘pack’ leaders to follow, and that dog owners need to exert a certain kind of energy.   He calls it “calm-assertive” energy, “relaxed but always confident that he or she is in control.”  This is a point he emphasizes again and again throughout the book.  He encourages dog owners to transform themselves, if they lack this kind of energy, to visualize it until it becomes natural to them.  I can’t refute or validate his premise about pack leaders and “calm-assertive” energy as it pertains to dogs, but the week I spent reading his book I found myself suprisingly calm.  I don’t think I raised my voice at my kids a single time.   I was channelling the “calm-assertive” energy.  It worked so well, that I’m not sure if I should shelf this book in the parenting section of my home library, or put it with the other dog books. (I’m kidding.  Kind-of.)

Milan concludes his book by giving readers a simple formula for working and living with their dogs: Exercise, Discipline, and Affection – in that order.  According to Milan, dogs need frequent exercise to calm and center them.  He calls walking a dog a “primal activity” that puts dogs in tune with their inner canine.  It also creates a bond between dog and owner.  I’ve tried very hard to follow this step of his formula, though sometimes I feel I’m overdoing it a little when I put my 11 week old puppy on a leash and try and get her to follow me around the park.  She’d rather sit and watch the birds fly by.  The next step is discipline, which basically means sticking to a routine, and keeping expectations firm and clear.  And affection comes last, after the first two steps have been met.

Cesar’s Way gave me a lot to think about, and was a quick and enjoyable read.  Milan’s methodology is largely based on intuition and his extensive experience with dogs.  It doesn’t always translate into understanding and solving everyday problems you might encounter with your dog.  I still don’t know how to keep my puppy from chewing on everyone’s feet, or my four year old from taunting her.  I tried coaching my four, six, eight and ten year old into owning their “calm-assertive” energy when they interact with the puppy, but I think that is asking a little much.  I’ve resisted calling a trainer because of the impression I received from Milan that dog training amounts to teaching a dog tricks, while his methodology builds strong relationships between dogs and owners, and healthy, balanced, naturally obedient dogs.  But with all the biting and nipping around her, I might have to call a trainer anyway.

I just picked up a copy Dog Sense: How the New Science of Dog Behavior Can Make You A Better Friend to Your Pet by John Bradshaw.  I’m eager to add it to my doggie bibiliography.  We’ll see how it compares with Cesar’s Way.

Monday’s Portrait: Portrait of Time Well Spent

This afternoon I headed up to Sandy for my fourth consecutive summer as an attendee of the Writing and Illustrating for Young Reader’s Conference.  It is an excellent conference, with so many interesting, inspiring, and engaging writers who share their knowledge and experience with ‘pre-published’ writers like myself.  (‘Pre-published’ is a term I picked up this afternoon – as opposed to ‘unpublished’.  Doesn’t it sound nicer?)  However, in spite of all the writing love that goes around, a smallish-largish part of me was dreading attending the conference yet again as one of the ‘pre-published’.  What is my problem that I am STILL working on my revisions?  Why is it taking me so long?

Of course I know the answer to that.  I have four kids, and when it comes down to it my time will always go to them first.  At the beginning of this last school year, my youngest headed off to preschool two mornings a week.  I was so excited to finally have some time alone to write.  But I ended up volunteering at the elementary school both those mornings.  When school ended, and my book was still unfinished, I wondered if I’d made a mistake.  Maybe I should have kept those mornings to myself.

What saved me from the burden of regret was a packet of bright blue cards that my son, Hunter, brought home from his fourth grade class on the last day of school.  Thank you notes from his classmates for all the time I put into teaching them creative writing this year.

Here are some of my favorites (with original writing and punctuation):

You are my Wrighting Hero!  Thank you very much!

I get to be a hero!  Writing to the rescue!

Your the best in the world.  You helped us a lot with our story’s.  Thank you so much.

I’m a huge fan of hyperbole when it applies to me.

You are so greate.  I love riteing and this really helped me.  Thank you!

I’m not sure if I should be concerned about the various spellings for the word ‘writing’, but I was thrilled to know that this little girl loves to write, and that my time spent with the class helped her with the process.

You have been great and I think you made my book turn out good!

I loved this note because the boy who wrote it really did an excellent job with revisions.  I was really proud of the effort he put into his book, and was glad that he saw the difference it made.

You are very pretty and thank you for the advice.

Pure gratification.  I’m pretty and smart?  Yay!

Thank you for taking the time to teach us to write!

I appreciated that this boy acknowledged the time that went into working with the class.  There were so many nights when I stayed up late reading their stories.  But when I read this last note, it was clear to me that all the time I gave them was worth it. 

Thank you for giving me great ideas for my story.  I hope that you liked coming to our class to incourage us to become a life long writer. 

These notes were just what I needed to soothe my frustration at not finishing my novel.  They reassured me that my time away from my own writing was time well spent.  Maybe I’ll carry them with me to the conference tomorrow, to remind me that it is okay to still be sitting among the ‘pre-published’.

Monday’s Portrait: Portrait of a Puppy

Clearly I am no videographer, but on Friday we took a trip to Wonderland, and here is what we brought back:

Monday’s Portrait: Portrait of Housework

Everyone has been home for the past three days, and the skies outside are damp and gray.  The perfect equation for a very messy house.  Today in the midst of my spraying, scrubbing and sweeping I remembered what my friend Lisa said, which I quoted in my last post: “Dishes are no big deal.”  I think hearing her say that resonated with me so much because I often allow housework to take up an unnecessary amount of my emotional energy.  Not long after picking up my sponge, I find myself feeling a lot like poor, miserable Atlas, holding up the weight of the world.

Why do I allow housework to do this to me?  I remember with perfect clarity the first time I suffered from housework-induced ennui.  I was a newlywed wiping off the edges of a dirty toilet bowl.  I felt so dissastisfied and depressed that I sat down immediately afterwards and wrote a pathetic little essay about it in which I cursed my sorry fate. 

I’ve managed to come to terms with housework quite a bit since those early days.  I’ve decided that cleaning my house is just something that needs to be done.  Not my calling in life, my destiny, my raison de vivre.  No.  It’s no big deal.  Like shaving my legs or going to the dentist.  I don’t enjoy it, but I get it done. 

And I do understand the value of work, whether tedious or not.  Which is why I can’t make myself hire a cleaning service.  I need work, and I know my kids need it, too.  They don’t fight when they are doing their jobs.  They are focused on working, and our home hums with industry and satisfaction.  For five minutes.  Maybe.  But I’ll take what I can get, and keep reminding myself that the repetitive, mundane tasks don’t accumulate to equal the size and mass of the densest planet in our solar system.  Poor Atlas, indeed.

Monday’s Portrait: Portrait of a Stranger

I just returned from a four day trip to Cincinatti, Ohio with my eight year old daughter.  Our reason for taking the trip was to visit some old friends of mine from Italy who are here in the United States seeking medical treatment for their six-year old son.  While in Cincinatti, they are staying at the Ronald McDonald House.  They are well taken care of by the volunteers at the McDonald House, and by the nurses, doctors, social workers and translators at the hospital.  But they don’t know anyone in Ohio, and don’t speak any English, so I took my daughter with me to spend some time with them, and to give them what moral support I could.

A few days before I was scheduled to leave for Ohio, I received a phone call from a woman in Cincinatti.  Her name was Lisa.  She had taken my friends under her wing, picking them up at the airport when they arrived, visiting them in the hospital, arranging trips to the Cincinatti Zoo for them, and bringing them to her home for dinner and respite.  She knew their case worker at the hospital, was working with the Italian Embassy in Detroit on some problems they were having with their paperwork, and knew every detail of their son’s medical history and current treatment.  The reason she called me was to invite my daughter and I to stay with her and her family in their home during our visit to Cincinatti.  I accepted her invitation.

During our time with Lisa and her family, my daughter and I were given soft beds to sleep in and warm breakfasts made from scratch.  Lisa’s nine and eleven year old daughters immediately adopted my daughter as a special friend.  They pushed two twin beds together so she could “sleepover” with them.  They shared silly stories with her and taught her how to play badminton.  “Mom,” my daugther said to me, “They are so nice.  And they never fight.”

I was equally impressed.  Every night the family invited us to join them for family prayer.  They played games together, happily drawing us in to share in the fun.   Lisa’s home was spotless, even while taking classes at a nearby university and baking chocolate chip cookies for her daughter’s soccer team, which she helped coach.  One night I asked if I could help do the dishes and she cheerfully replied, “dishes are no big deal.”

This was a family that had made service a fundamental part of their lives.  They did it naturally, cheerfully, and tirelessly.  Over and over during my time with them I thought of this passage from the 25th chapter of the gospel of Matthew. 

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kindgdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:

For I was an hungred and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?  When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

My daughter and I were complete strangers to Lisa and her family.  Our Italian friends were strangers to them as well.  But that didn’t matter.  She took all of us in, fed us and cared for us.  I remain so touched and grateful for all that she did and is doing for me and for my friends.  I know I’ll never be able to pay her back, but I do hope that the next time I have the opportunity to help a stranger, I will remember her example and do my best to clothe, feed, and care.

Monday’s Portrait: Portrait of Year’s End

The lilacs are blooming, the creek that runs past our house is swelling with a fast-moving swirl of cold mountain run off, and the sounds from the schoolyard are growing more and more exuberant.  Summer is coming.

Slowly.  The air is still a little too cool.  The list of to-do’s a little too long.  But we are all taking a deep breath and holding it.  Waiting for school to end and for lazy summer mornings to settle in; afternoons out of doors with popsicles melting in our hands; evenings surrounded by scrub oak, riding through the foothills on our bikes.

But before we say goodbye to the school year, I have to stop and reflect on how much my kids have grown since last August.  The new shoes I bought them don’t fit anymore, the pants have long since worn through at the knee.  My ten year old, especially, has grown to a whole new person – tall, smart, and confident.  He has had a great year.  I’ve saved a letter he wrote to me back in January, for his parent-teacher conference.  I thought it said so much about his year as a fourth grader, and his thoughtfulness.  It gives a sweet savor to the year’s end.

Dear Mom,

School is going great!  I feel like I am improving in math and other subjects.  Even though I am learning so much there are some things I need to improve, like staying on task and working more quickly.

At recess I mostly play tag but on Tuesday it was great to see you at the Book Fair!

Lunch is great too, thanks for making home lunch for me.  It is funny what conversations we have at the lunch table.

I love the times when you come to teach writing!

Love,

Hunter 

Monday’s Portrait: Portrait of a Pep Talk

I decided to wake up at 6:30 this morning to work on my novel.  For the morning people out there that might not sound like a big deal, but for me this was a desperate measure.  The last few days have just been too busy to squeeze out any writing time during more reasonable hours, and summer is coming soon.  I’ll have all my kids home, which I am happy about, but writing will be hard.  So 6:30 was my big idea. 

It failed.

Or, I should say, I failed.  I was still in bed at 7:30 when my three year old came into my room, dragging his blanket behind him.  So I recalibrated.  I decided I would make time to write after lunch.  But first I had to take my six year old to the pediatrician, buy crickets for our family gecko, fill the mini van with gas, and figure out what to feed all of us.  With all of that accomplished, I put my three year old down for a nap and plopped my six year old in front of Yogi the Bear.  Time to write.

But.

There was the mess: dirty soccer socks, unwashed dishes, remnant Easter candies and wrappers spilled on the floor in my kids’ bedrooms.  I knew I should write.  I need to write.  I get cranky and depressed when I don’t write.  But I also get cranky and depressed when the house is messy, and believe it or not, laundry and dishes is much easier disaster relief than novel revision.  So I started to clean.

Until my phone rang.  It was my writer-friend, Jen.  “I need a pep talk,” she said.  She’d put her toddler down for a nap so she could write, only . . .

I could finish her words.  We were in exactly the same place.  So we complained and commiserated.  We reassured each other that our novels do NOT suck.  And we promised each other that we would hang up the phone and GO WRITE.

It was just what I needed.  I left the messes behind and went to my computer.  I tackled my novel.  I even had a couple of ah-ha moments.

Thanks goodness for pep talks.  And the friends who somehow know when you need one.