Lucinda Williams to your kids, who’ve just begun to put the meaning of lyrics together. We’ve long listened to “Sweet Old World”, but this morning, as we made our way past Six Blocks Away, which they love, not least of all because while he may be heartbroken, he still works in a donut shop, and into the other songs — He Never Got Enough Love, Pineola — and I’m in the position of trying to explain what it means when “mama ran off” or “his very own gun” or “found him lyin’ in his bed.”

Still, better than listening to the Wiggles.

The guitar riff from Nasty Dogs and Funky Kings…

I liked this editorial/book review, as it stresses things that I find important about teaching (I’ve never read any of Newkirk’s books…I guess I need to). To wit,

What teachers need is each other. We need to be sharing and discussing student work, bolstering and supporting each other through the inevitable failures, collaborating in manageable small communities, inviting each other into our classrooms. We need to witness daily the great teaching that is already going on inside our buildings.

This idea of co-creation is the hoped-for change that will sustain me through the years beyond 2010: that teachers may one day wrest control of their work from others. If it happens, it will happen by bits and pieces, but it is the most important “good idea” I cling to in this time of very bad ones.

From Zoe Heller’s vicious 2003 novel, What Was She Thinking:

Such do-gooding fantasies are not uncommon in comprehensive schools these days. Many of the younger teachers harbour secret hopes of “making a difference.” They have all seen the American films in which lovely young women tame inner-city thugs with recitations of Dylan Thomas. They, too, want to conquer their little charges’ hearts with poetry and compassion. When I was at teacher training college, there was none of this sort of thing. My fellow students and I never thought of raising self-esteem or making dreams come true. Our expectations did not go beyond guiding our prospective pupils thorugh the three Rs and providing them with some pointers on personal hygiene. Perhaps we were lacking in idealism. But, then, it strikes me as not coincidental that, in the same period that pedagogical ambitions have become so inflated and grandiose, the standards of basic literacy and numeracy have radically declined. We might not have fretted much about our children’s souls in the old days, but we did send them out into the world knowing how to do long division.

Having read The Road last year, and having just finished Far North, I’ve been increasingly fearful as I read Bill McKibben’s Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future . While McKibben does try and point out some of the ways that the world is not ending, the combination of globalization and agricultural specialization highlights the tenuous nature of our so-called advanced civilization…if the food in most American houses has traveled 1,500 miles to get there, what happens if this distribution network breaks? Maybe it’ll be less about 28 Days or the Machines than a Grapes of Wrath Style Dustbowl.

Happy thoughts on the night before everyone goes back to school.

I watched these books fly off the shelves at Colin’s book fair but hadn’t had a chance to read them yet. My nephew had two of them that I read in rapid succession this week…awesome stuff. Reminded me of this New Yorker article about the purpose of children’s literature, where Elizabeth Kolbert offers a split between permissive vs. protectionist visions of children’s literature. These books are on the far side of permissive — not unlike Calvin and Hobbes — I feel like I’d have to read them with my kids to ensure that some of the jokes or activities weren’t attempted.

(How do you acknowledge the hilarity of your kids’ comments without encouraging inappropriate language?)

So there’s a great article in Sunday’s Times about how the new brain research is influencing early childhood education. I’m fascinated by this process, and not just because my son is in kindergarten.
One striking thing, though: each researcher has their own curriculum attached to their research. So…what’s the sequence? Do research, assess results, develop curriculum, sell it? Develop curriculum, do research, tweak curriculum, sell it? Even assuming that every researcher described here approaches each step with integrity, it just seems troubling that the end result of the research is a product that can be sold. I know that no one is getting rich here — or maybe they are — but in a world where “research-based” has become a selling point, how do we make sure that the “product” is free of commercial considerations?

On the other hand, I’d rather it was a researcher trying to bring their studies into a classroom then a textbook company…

Reminds of the time a vice principal came into my room and asked me where she could order the curriculum I was using. I snorted… she couldn’t understand that I spent much of my free time designing that curriculum, with my own skills and my own knowledge of my students, and with the help of feedback offered by my students. Isn’t that the best part of teaching?

I’m reading Nelson Lichtenstein’s new book on the impact of Walmart on American life. One development he stresses throughout is the shift from manufacturers having all the data about customer habits — they know what’s selling where based on orders and such — to retailers, particularly Walmart.

Last week, while searching for the new Bob Dylan Christmas record at Best Buy, I asked an “associate” where to find it. She pulled up the screen for this album and this long list of data emerged: which store was selling the most copies, how many copies were selling each week and each day, how many copies were in the store and available in the warehouse…I only get a few second glance at this screen but it was amazing just how much information they had about EVERY SINGLE product in their store.