Summer Reading Part 1

This is what I think of the books I've read over the last 2 months. What are you reading? How do you like it? I want to know!


I enjoyed the second half of this book much more than the first, and I like the book more now than I did while I was reading it. Yeah, it’s a little tiring to read about high class Americans who simply eat, drink and socialize at Parisian and Pamplonan cafes for a couple hundred pages, but that’s the reality of a hedonistic life. Lonely, pointless, unfulfilling. Though this theme is central to the novel, I did begin to actually care about the self-absorbed characters and Hemingway ultimately developed a strong story to keep me turning the latter pages. My favorite section was when a couple of the guys left that fickle Miss Brett in the city and went fishing out in the woods for a few days.


I hadn’t read To Kill A Mockingbird since freshmen year of high school but remembered liking it very much. I wasn’t mistaken. It’s one of the strongest novels I’ve ever read and look forward to teaching it in the future. I’m amazed by Harper Lee’s ability to convey the characters’ maturation so believably in so few pages. The themes and symbols never seem forced, yet they’re as clear as the points in a Sunday sermon. I’d love to see aspects of Atticus in my fatherly roles.


Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman is a collection of 24 short stories by Haruki Murakami. So far I’ve read about half of them and I’m a fan of about half of those. Really hit or miss. Some of it might be lost in the culture gap, but some of it might just not be very good. I do like Murakami’s style though, and he’s often hilarious. My reigning favorite is “The Rise and Fall of Sharpie Cakes” but I have a feeling there’s a bigger gem I haven’t gotten to yet. It’s like playing the lottery, except you get to bet 15 minutes instead of 15 dollars.


Before I had decided which novel to assign my second session summer school (alliteration!) class, one of my students asked if we could read The Outsiders. The school had a class set, so I took a survey which revealed that only 3 kids in the class had previously read the book, so that’s the one I chose. I didn’t know anything about the author when I started reading it, but about 20 pages in I thought, “This sort of sounds like a girl writing from a guy’s perspective.” Then I realized the author is indeed a female, and that she wrote the novel when she was 15. Ah-ha. So, it’s really impressive writing for a 15 year old. If one of my students turned in a bit of fiction like that, I’d piss my pants (after I thoroughly checked for plagiarism). Anyway, I enjoyed it, the lessons were worthwhile (though heavy-handed), and the kids were crazy about it. However, it should be read in 7th grade rather than 10th. I let them watch the movie on the last day of class and was pretty disappointed. Lots of people seem to love it, but the book is better without the visual influence.


Freakonomics was all the rage a few years ago, but I wasn’t interested. My brightest summer school student just finished reading it, however, and told me I should read it too. He leant me his copy, so I did. It’s definitely entertaining and some of the parallels Levitt draws are pretty interesting, but some are crap. For example, his data shows that there is a correlation between decreased crime and abortion. He proposes that this correlation may exist because unwanted or inadequately supported kids are more likely to become criminals. If these kids are aborted, they won’t become criminals and thus the rate of crime decreases. Last I checked, murder was crime, so whatever. My favorite chapter was about an ivy-league student who starts hanging out with a major drug-dealing inner city gang in order to study them. The stuff he finds out is fascinating.


This book is crazy powerful. It basically explores the human condition in a world where everyone stops caring about the Redeemer. Very quickly, the world essentially becomes hell. I don’t know what else to say about it except that it’s worth reading. Also, don’t watch the 1990 film version. It’s nothing like the book and awful, awful, awful.


This is the one I’m currently reading. I’m about 1/3 of the way through and it’s fascinating. If you’re not familiar, Oliver Sacks is a neurologist who writes about how the mind works by weaving in true stories of patients he has studied. This book is all about how music influences, and is influenced by, the brain. So far I’ve read about a non-musical guy who got struck by lightning and suddenly wanted to play the piano all the time (and was good), people who go into seizures when they hear certain music, people who are genuinely terrified of certain music, people who have musical hallucinations (where they regularly “hear” music playing when none is on), people who only hear terrible noise (like banging pots and pans) when others hear music, and people who have absolute pitch. Apparently 1 in 10,000 have absolute pitch, which means they naturally know exactly what note is played without even thinking about it. One guy talks about how when he was a kid he recognized without even trying that his dad blew his nose in G. People who have it say that it’s as easy for them to identify a musical note as it is for most people to identify a color. Anyway, I could go on and on about what I’ve read so far, but I can’t wait to finish it.

Who Done It?!

This is our automobile. We don't deliver pizza, but thanks to some street wandering ruffian, we can pretend.

Why Summer School Rules Should Apply Year Round/ I Swear I Don't Use My Powers For Evil

“Summer school’s a privilege,” I said, “If you miss 6 or more hours before the three weeks are up, you get dropped with an F. If you’re late in the morning or after a break, I automatically deduct 15 minutes. Even if you’re 2 minutes late. Understand? Good.”
After a couple days, smart boy gets smart. He tells 3 friends, “We should just be 14 minutes late every break. If he’s gonna take 15 off we might as well use it.” They agreed that was a very good idea.
They walked into class 14 minutes after class had resumed. “Why are you so late?” I asked.
“Just wanted to use all our time.”
“Well I guess you should have stayed out longer, because you just lost 45 minutes.”
“How’s that work?”
“You try to work the system, I make sure the system works you.”

Year Three Begins

I love her because she can extract honey from a hornet. Because she never dons a mask, even for protection. Because her eyes are pure windows, when most watch through mirrors. Because she finds the treasure among the trash. I hope I don't ruin her.

Less Diagnosis, More Prayer

Lately it seems wherever I am the background noise consists of women discussing and analyzing their kids. I use the term “discussing” liberally, however, because it’s really a series of monologues that teeter-totter from one woman to the other; These women are never really interested in anyone else’s kid, but if they nod their head and say, “uh-huh, right, yeah” a couple of times, they know their turn will come. Of course most women think their kids are genius, but I’ve observed that many of these same women also believe their children are abnormal or frightfully screwed-up in one way or another. Apparently there are all sorts of indicators when you’re a child that reveal the numerous problems you will surely have in adulthood. For example, a mother can be sure her child will become obese in due time based on the shape of his ankles (this seems to be true even if he is the thinnest kid in his second grade class), if a pre-school boy is caught playing with his older sister’s dolls, his mother can be certain he’s a homo, and if a child, when prompted, refuses to sing her uncle the oh-so-cute song her mother heard her singing from her room only days before, she probably has some severe social anxiety disorder. The list goes on, but the point is made. If I had realized when I was a child that so many women spend their time noticing and discussing these things, I definitely would have had a mental breakdown at recess. The fact that these women don't have anything else to talk about is bad enough, but the more troubling aspect that I’ve gleaned from my mostly unintentional eves dropping is that these women are actually taking action on their observations. The kids are sent to counseling, given psychological exercises disguised as games, served Kool-Aid made with Splenda. One may contend that the fact these women care about their children and want the best for them is a positive thing, which is true (though their underlying motivations may be called into question), and I do realize there are valid reasons for some kids to get help, but I also know this: If I had been forced to go to therapy because I liked playing on my own more than with other kids or because I thought pieces of trash got sad if I threw them away, it's more likely I would have become an insecure heroin addict than a gregarious leader or whatever they thought I should be. I'd probably even be in therapy.

Blimey!

I began my decent down the middle of an empty public staircase. I had only progressed about two steps when a skinny guy in his twenties, wearing shaggy blond hair, dark jeans, and a soccer jacket began to ascend the middle of the staircase. Naturally I veered to my right in order to let him pass uninhibited. At the same time, however, he veered to his left. We were now on course for an awkward collision, so I quickly moved to my left as he strode confidently ahead. Who moves to their left to let someone pass?! Then I heard him answer his cell phone. He had a British accent. It all made sense.

Makeover: Complete

This is basically the same bike I posted a few months ago, but I stitched some leather onto some new handlebars, got a new saddle, new pedals, new wheels, and most importantly, a new paint job. One of my students paints cars, so he sprayed it for super cheap. It's holding up much better than the rattle can job I did the first time. Hopefully I don't crash it.