The Parent Imperfect just received a web link that has led to this harried post. It is “21 young adult books for those who are “so over” dystopias.” This great list comes from Sarah Ang, a senior at UNC-Chapel Hill. I want to share that before I go off on another PI tangent.
The list came to me just after a long session of going over old photographs in hopes of collecting a few for dear Liz on Mother’s Day. Among them were a surprising number of images of Vince or Connie sitting or laying somewhere reading a book. Sadly, those feel a bit like my dog-eared photos of myself playing baseball or tennis…memories of a bygone era.
It’s hard to imagine that I ever took for granted the tendency of both kids to disappear into books for long periods of time. It wasn’t that long ago when Connie would quite often come to me saying, “!Papi…TIENES que leer este libro!” I’d smile and say that I would surely read whatever book she had just devoured so that we could talk about it, but I seldom made the time to do so. (Too much time blogging…)
What used to be a family of voracious readers-for-fun has become Liz, still reading a couple of books a week, mostly before going to sleep. While Liz must be careful that a book doesn’t keep her up all night, they have become the PI’s NyQuil. Vince and Connie still read quite a bit, but reading has become exclusively part of the ongoing torment of too much homework that stands at the center of the teaching philosophy at the nation’s oldest public school (Yes, we knew that the place worships at the altar of homework when we sent them there). At about 11PM one night this week, Connie said much too loudly (screamed, really), “I can’t stand it! They give me so much fricking (chosen advisedly) homework…why are they doing this? They take away from you any interest in learning or reading because all you have time to do is so much homework!”
Now, Connie’s protests happen in a context, a context in which she refuses to let go of interests that she developed when schoolwork was a minor irritation. Her insistence in continuing to pursue these interests means that she often doesn’t get to her homework until 8PM.
And the parental guidance? The parents were clear that she was going to do less extra-curricular stuff this first year at BLS, but this past week she had a soccer game, two soccer practices, two softball games, softball practice, dance class, piano class and piano practice (another casualty). She somehow also found time to babysit once and spend a little time with friends. We often look longingly upon those families whose children have each decided that they are going to focus on doing one single thing outside of their schoolwork, and do it very well. Connie rebels against this idea and, to date, her parents have yet to be willing to storm the barricades.
The other factor in the race from reading is, of course, the turn to screens of all sorts. We vigilantly kept Vince out of this world well into his teen years, but his life is now fully backlit. The limits we fought for years to maintain have slowly faded away as he approaches the time when he, alone, will need to decide if he ever wants to stop playing that game or watching that movie. Connie, the future litigator, has argued that allowing technological parity is the only just path for her beleaguered parents. We have not caved to that level, but she has access to much more of the wired world at age 12 than her dear brother had when he turned 16.
Soccer games and piano practice are not, therefore, the only reason that homework is delayed and books gather dust on cluttered shelves. Given even a few minutes of free time, both Vince and Connie turn to that bizarre world of “constant, but not quite” communication, in which a student this week made a “generic threat” against the nation’s oldest public school (After letting us know this troubling news, the Headmaster’s robo call went on to assure parents that “at no time was any member of the Boston Latin community in any danger…”). All in a week’s work…
And so it is that we continue to scatter books around the house and then pay library fines when the books slip beneath the piles. We continue to rage against the machine, even as more of them appear in our midst. What evil demon keeps bringing them in here?
Through it all, these kids get up at 6AM (almost) every day to, once again, drink from the fire hose. It doesn’t feel right, and complaints abound, but no one seems willing to force a discussion about making a real change.