Super Sunday

I marvel at how much hype can go into a single sporting event, but then again, I’m guilty of feeding the fanaticism. I wanted Kurt to prove the naysayers wrong, but at least it was a great game…

In the midst of watching the pre-game festivities, I caught a glimpse of news tidbits that both disgusted and disillusioned me. My social conscience is easily ired, but the gamut of weekend events startled even me. A homeless man left on the street in D.C. to die while people waltzed to and fro to a grocery store…Michael Phelps caught inhaling. To think that one shopper loaded groceries while Jose Sanchez lay inches away, dying, should raise a never level of disgust in all of us. And yet, the AOL polls admit that most people would’ve done the same thing, most probably wouldn’t have even noticed poor Jose lying there. What have we been reduced to? Because he was homeless, we’re somehow justified in accepting the beating death of this man? I shudder to think what drove him to the streets in the first place, but in the realm of human existence, should it matter?

And then there’s our American hero, Michael Phelps, caught hitting a bong. The gasp from the crowd, the collective jaw dropping, the judgment passing without a conscious forethought. This man captivated the world in a way few ever have. But the media feels compelled to dethrone our heroes, to expose their flaws, and give them their imperfect fifteen minutes. Will it ever stop? Our fear-mongering, idol-crushing, negativity-thriving paparazzi on a quest for all things ratings-worthy?

I wonder. But as long as we hit those websites, watch slanderous news shows, and read the National Enquirer’s of the world, it won’t stop. And neither will they. It’s a vicious cycle and takes one of us at a time to break it. But as much as I want to claim I’m doing my part, here I am admonishing them, after having listened and read and believed.

All I know is that Michael Phelps is a young man who’s not gotten to be a kid for a long time. It takes great sacrifice to achieve greatness, and for many people, that puts a huge target on him to be perfect. If only all of us could be tagged the same…

Warhol's Legacy...

Another politician has been caught in the disgrace spotlight, this time Oregon mayor Sam Adams. To make it even more scandalous, he is the first openly gay mayor there elected, and his transgression has been that he asked a teenager to lie about their affair (he was significantly older)…

So the gasps of those I’ve heard discuss this make me wonder: Is it because he’s gay? Because of the age difference? Or because we hold politicians under a microscope and expect them to live by a different standard? If the last one, then boy, do we have a lot to learn. I’m currently taking a Media Ethics class, so our discussion of this made me want to probe the opinions and thoughts of friends, fans, and all those on the periphery.

Because, quite honestly, my response? Who cares. We spend so much time speculating about Brangelina’s kids, Britney’s body, and Amy Winehouse’s rehab details that we seem to have misplaced our mirrors. Could you stand up to the scrutiny of mega stardom? Probably not…and if you could, then you should run for something, anything, so there would be a spotlight with nothing to expose. It’s time we spent our time and energy on what matters, not ogling others. The phrase Look in your mirrors before you get out the magnifying glass is so apropos. Sam Adams hasn’t tried to be someone he’s not, but with the American fascination of exposing people’s flaws, he screwed up. Was it wrong to lie? Absolutely. But we might consider that we drive people, all people, to that. If our media handled the famous like other countries, then an openly gay man wouldn’t have to worry about covering up a gay fling with teenager (of legal age). Iceland just elected a lesbian as a Prime Minister.

We’re so far removed from that possibility that it makes me wonder how it is we’re so judgmental. Aside from social and political stance (liberal, conservative, gay, straight), we should truly adhere to the adage Judge not lest ye be judged. Maybe then we could see past the labels and accept each other for who we truly are. But until then, we’ll see black, white, rich, poor, gay, straight, fat, skinny, and all things that make a good story when exposed. No wonder so many people commit the crimes they do for their fifteen minutes…because we give it to them.

Slumdog Inspiration

I went to perhaps one of the best movies I’ve ever seen this weekend at Ragtag: Slumdog Millionaire. If you haven’t seen it…run, don’t walk. In the realm of great flicks, it ranks with my elite: Stranger Than Fiction, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Atonement. These are just a few of the newer movies on my list, and Slumdog sits at the top. I’m on my way in a few minutes to see Benjamin Button, so perhaps this week will be a two-fer.

But the key to Slumdog’s inspiration lay at the foot of the children the movie featured: slaves, soldiers, survivors from an impoverished third world country. Africa, India, Haiti…these are places that force children to roam the street begging, stealing, surviving. But many don’t. Many are kidnapped, forced into servitude for drug dealers, gun runners, or worse. It puts life in perspective. These children don’t own a textbook, or a book of any kind for that matter. They don’t have Dolce & Gabana jeans, don’t want them, and they don’t worry about being like Britney or Ashton. They worry about being. One need only watch the new season of “24” to see the truth of this all-too-real dilemma.

What would American kids do if they weren’t allowed to go to school? A glib answer would be, “They wouldn’t care.” But that’s not true. Visit children in many of these third world regions, and it’s proof what they’d do without the burden—or privilege—of school. They’d be ecstatic at the possibility of homework, of owning a book, of learning. It isn’t that American kids don’t appreciate what they have. The truth is, they don’t understand it.

If they had to fight and beg for every meal, it would open their eyes. If they lost a mother…a father…or both, they’d develop an appreciation for all things easy. If they had to spend every waking moment surviving instead of assuming and taking for granted, it would alter more than their perspective—it would alter them.

Parents today could take one vacation – just one – that would forever change every teenager and the American mindset of immediacy, greed, and self-centered self-gratification. A mission trip to Jamaica, Haiti, or Jamal’s Mumbai neighborhood would open their minds, reveal the harsh realities of a wider world around them.

Learning isn’t confined to a building… and too many kids learn that the hard way.

Resolutions...

The new year has started, and everyone is clutching at their fragile resolutions. I wonder how many people make the same one, year after year, only to watch it wither away on a chilly January breeze. I made a new one this year: not to make any more resolutions I couldn't keep. Now THAT'S a resolution worth making. I intend to work out three times a week, I plan to get all my teacher planning finished before the weekend so it doesn't consume my Sundays, I pledge to get my homework done well before class, and I am making a solemn oath to write every single day…even if it's just one sentence. These are all intentions, plans, goals I have and probably have had for some years now. But resolutions? No, because the word means unyielding, unbendable and definite. How do I know what each day will bring me? Danna may have killers to catch, Timmy might finally have his breakthrough, Benson could resolve his issues with Colin's death, and god only knows what Jaxson Ritchie IV has planned (Danna sure doesn't). They may be characters to readers (or future readers since some haven't been finished yet), but to me, these people greet me early in the morning and have plans all their own. I'm just along for the ride. So anything other than my newest resolution makes me nervous.

I'll challenge anyone that my resolution will be easier to keep. Unless, of course, your resolution was to make no more resolutions, or maybe to be resolute in your resolution about not keeping them. Okay, it's starting to make my head hurt now…

Steven Rios trial...

As I sit in the courtroom waiting on the verdict in the Steven Rios case, I’m considering all that’s happened during this grueling week. Jurors pushed to the brink of exhaustion, attorneys passionate to the point of anger, spectators drained from the rollercoaster testimony of key players. Waiting, listening, watching as jurors request evidence, exhibits, photos…the anticipation is like sitting in the dentist chair with the drill hovering over a pried open mouth.

And it occurs to me…no matter the verdict, the victims will still be victims. Linda will still have lost a son. Libby lost her husband. A son lost his father, whether temporary or terminal. And a city lost its virtue. No matter the outcome, Columbians will be divided, torn by the certainty that their opinion is right. But the truth is, only two people on this planet know what happened on the morning of June 5, 2004, and one of them is dead. With all the facts, the opinions, the judgments, the homophobia, one key detail must be kept central. Jesse Valencia died that morning. He paid with his life, for whatever reason, and no matter his sexual orientation, his indiscretions, and his personal habits, he didn’t deserve to be brutally murdered. Focus is often lost in the heat of battle, but one must never forget what started the war.

Technology in the Classroom

As I sit in the National Writing Project listening to teachers discuss how to implement technology, it occurs to me just how important it is for teachers to reach out to kids through cyberspace.

I think I’m a prime example of what writing and teaching in the digital age has become. My teaching evolves around using Wikis, blogs, Blackboard, and Nings. As an author, I’m currently writing a multi-genre YA novel (a sequel to Dregs) using blogs, chat rooms, IMs, and text messages. It isn’t centered on just that, but it’s about teens, so it wouldn’t be an authentic representation of them if it didn’t incorporate that on some level. To reach my intended audience, I have to enter their world, and a huge part of their world exists in cyber space. We can’t use age-old strategies for teenagers now, because they’ll feel we can’t relate to them. As an author, I want them to read my work, and say, “Man, she gets it…” As a teacher, I want them to listen to what I’m saying, especially since I’m teaching future teachers how to teach. That listening needs to morph into believing, and the only way to truly convince young people I understand their world is to be part of it. As teachers and authors, we’re role models, and we can exist in those virtual worlds just as we do in the real one. (It begs the issue that teaching via virtual reality also allows the less-interactive kids to interact more openly, where limitations can be breached. Shy kids step out of their box, because they can assume an avatar/persona that gives them anonymity.)

When education embraces the world students/teens spend their evening hours immersed in, we might meet on a middle, common ground that allows learning to abound. And my guess is, kids won’t be the only ones learning.

What It Means to Be an American

If you list all the hats you wear in your life…wife, teacher, author, mother…where does American fall? For many of us, it’s near the top of the list. I do this activity with various writer’s group, and inevitably, I find American somewhere fifth, sixth, sometimes seventh on that list. Right now, it hovers closer to the top, because the election always reminds me how lucky I am to have the right to vote, to have a say in what happens in my country. When writers list all the roles they assume throughout the day, the week, the month, their life, somewhere down that list, we all come around to it eventually. Why? Because we know what people who don’t live here don’t…being an American, though sometimes taken for granted, rocks. Freedom of speech, of religion, to chase that elusive dream. We have it all, no matter the downside. But how many of us, on that list, put down Republican? Or Democrat? We don’t, because both McCain and Obama said it Tuesday, in their various speeches. Once this election ended, we must come together, forget our differences, and remember, we’re not red America and we’re not blue America. We’re the United States of America, for better or worse.

If you’re patriotic – whether you hang out on the left, the right, or try to straddle somewhere in the middle – you recognize that when it’s all said and done, we have to remember that one of those labels we embrace everyday is American. If you ever doubt it, watch this video of 6-8 year olds singing our National Anthem at a Texas Tech basketball game last year. It’s one of the most amazing performances I’ve ever heard, and should send that surge through you… Man, I wouldn’t wanna live anywhere else.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4Ejji0bcE4