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The Every Child Read to Read @ Your Library project (Where can i buy some isotretinoin online only using cash or money orders) has come to my local library, and as a librarian, I’ve been thinking lately about pre-literacy: getting children ready to read.  A lot of this is “common sense with a fancy name” for parents who already love books, but of course, those families aren’t really the ones whose children are at risk–hence the project.

While I am a firm believer in “Kids Need Books”, it seems to me that learning to love reading is not just about reading.  Learning to love reading is about learning to enjoy language and learning to be interested in other people and what they have to say.  If you’re not curious about what someone has to tell you, and you can’t understand the way they’re using language to talk to you, then reading will always be a chore. 

It’s a lot like opera or football, that way.  Until you have real sense of what’s going on and when it’s done well–until you have a favorite team–it can seem pretty boring.  Librarians and teachers have always tried to get children to appreciate books and stories, but these days, especially with so many non-print media available, I think the job is larger.  We need to think in the broadest possible terms to meet the needs of our youngest patrons.  We need to show them that a book is a place (one of many possible places) where someone has left them a present encoded into language.

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Yesterday, some friends were helping me paint my kitchen when it was decided that we should pull out the refrigerator.  Shame covered me.  My heart sank.  It was worse than going to confession.  My sins of omission and commission lay in greasy, dusty tangles and lumps on the floor–not even within a darkened stall, behind a door or curtain, but out in the sunlight for all to see.

(Forgive me, for I have sinned.)

“How long has it been since you’ve done this?” they asked.

(Through my fault, through my most grievous fault…)

They laughed and vacuumed away the filth, washed the floor (whiter than snow), painted the wall, and gave me a fresh start.  Forgiven.

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If there’s one thing that having small children taught me, it’s that you can analyze almost anything after watching it over and over. Maybe it’s my own peculiar habit, but sometime after the tenth viewing of — Pick One: Power Rangers, Lion King, Thomas the Tank Engine– I start to ask questions.

Take Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, for example. This Disney movie always gets a lot of grief for teaching little girls that all they have to do is wait for a handsome prince to kiss them, but I’m not so sure that’s really the message. On the contrary, it seems to me like the movie is actually a fairly solid argument against the whole Pretty Princess myth–but don’t tell that to the folks in Disney’s marketing division.

I mean, who’s the biggest baddie of all in story? The Evil Witch Queen of course, whose one major hangup is “Who’s the fairest of them all?” For crying out loud, she’s ready to kill to be The Fairest, and she’s not even on America’s Next Top Model.

And when does Snow White get into trouble? When she buys into the Who’s-the-Fairest racket and starts singing, “Someday My Prince Will Come.” (“wedding bells will ring…”) It’s only when she escapes from that crazy Chick Universe and finds herself out in the forest with the Dwarfs that the world is right. At the Dwarfs cottage she gets to be the Civilizing Influence (another great girl myth, but we’ll save that for another time) and whistle while she works.

When the Dwarfs first find Snow White we hear them say,

“Why, i-it’s a girl!”

“She’s mighty pretty.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Just like a angel.”

But Grumpy warns, “Angel, hah! She’s a female! And all females is poison! They’re full of wicked wiles!”

Eventually Grumpy learns that not all females are poison, but from the movie’s point of view, their “wicked wiles” are poison. Beauty and seduction stand in contrast to true love–and you just have to wonder where Prince Charming fits into this schema. After all, he says he’s been “possessed.” And as Grumpy says in response to Snow’s “Someday my Prince will come….and away to his castle we’ll go, to be happy forever I know.”

“Hah! Mush.”

I think Snow should have stayed with the Dwarfs. Sure, they were funny-looking and kind of quirky, and she couldn’t marry them all, but they had steady jobs, a good income, and they loved her. Instead she fell for the old poisoned apple trick at the hands of the Queen disguised as an ugly (!) hag. Calling herself “poor, old Granny,” the Queen seductively tells Snow White, “It’s apple pies that make the menfolks’ mouths water. Pies made from apples like these.”

“Oh, they do look delicious.”

“Yes!”

The apples are fair and appealing to the menfolk, but their beauty disguises the poison within. Old Granny tempts the young girl to taste a magic “wishing apple” that will make her dreams come true, and Snow White does herself in by foolishly chasing after romantic fantasies instead of being happy with the good life she’s found.

Okay, I know some would argue that the apple actually worked. Snow gets “love’s first kiss” at the end and rides off on horseback (the horse as much a prize as the Prince for many little girls), but ask yourself, “Is she going to be happy with the cute guy and the palace?” “Is this true love or was he just under the spell of her feminine wiles?” “What will happen when she’s not so fair anymore? Will she end up old and bitter and talking to the mirror?” “And what if Doc or Grumpy had had the gumption to kiss her first?”

We’ll never know. The movie doesn’t really say-it just leaves us with a warning and a lot of questions. But the next time I see Snow White, I’m gonna think about it.

….

For a transcript of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs see is it illegal to buy isotretinoin online

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My family loved kaleidoscopes:  stained-glass windows at the end of a tunnel, subtly changing with every turn.  When an especially wonderful pattern appeared, we’d carry the tube to another family member to see.  I remember the suspense—balancing the tube and listening intensely to hear any movement.  It was so difficult to pass the kaleidoscope without shaking the pieces inside—you never knew if the other person was seeing exactly what you had seen.  And by the time they passed it back to you to check…well, you were taking even more chances.

You find a thing of beauty, something interesting, and you try to show it to someone else.  But it’s tricky business.  Sometimes your hands shake.  Sometimes they miss the handoff.  But some things are too good not to share.

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“Who, and what are you?” Scrooge demanded.
   “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
   “Long past?” inquired Scrooge….
   “No.  Your past.”
…[Scrooge] then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
   “Your welfare!” said the Ghost.  
A Christmas Carol  –Charles Dickens 

 

“For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”

“Auld Lang Syne” –Robert Burns

Looking back; looking forward.  
Be honest about failings; celebrate the good; be patient with yourself and others.  And raise a cup of kindness to all.
Happy New Year.

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New Year’s is a time for lists:  Best of, Worst of, Top 10’s, What’s In, What’s Out, What’s Hip, What’s Not, Resolutions, Remembrances, Things to Do.
 
It’s been a wild year.  And in the next four weeks, after carpeting and painting are completed, we’ll be moving for the second time in six months.  I confess that this has somewhat dampened my enthusiasm for energetically pledging myself to a year of self-improvement.  So, here’s a list I’m borrowing from Cold War Era CIA operatives called The Moscow Rules.  It’s not a definitive list (if anyone ever wrote this down it must have self-destructed), but it’s enough.  Here’s to 2007.
 

The Moscow Rules 

  1. Assume nothing.
  2. Never go against your gut.
  3. Everyone is potentially under opposition control.
  4. Don’t look back; you are never completely alone.
  5. Go with the flow. Blend in.
  6. Vary your pattern and stay within your cover.
  7. Lull them into a sense of complacency.
  8. Don’t harass the opposition.
  9. Pick the time and place for action.
  10. Keep your options open.

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It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and the kids and I had gone to one of the local malls.  My son had escaped to wander on his own while his sister and I looked around various clothing shops.  We looked in the All American Mountain-Themed preppy clothing store where they had the thermostat turned way down to encourage purchases of their winter clothing line.  We skipped the California Beach-Themed preppy clothing store, and stopped at the Lighter Brighter Slightly Younger Less Overtly Sexual preppy clothing store (upstairs, overlooking the giant snow globe with the dancing penguins).
 

We browsed the sweaters and the henleys and the hoodies and the fleece jammies, and were on our way out when we spotted the cutest little girl standing in front of the mirror.  She was maybe 4 years old with beads braided into her cornrows, and she was admiring the green and white scarf draped about her neck.  As she turned to take in the full effect of her elegance, I noticed that what she was really wearing was a pair of green and white pajama bottoms with the seat behind her back and one leg on each side of her neck.  With great drama, she tossed the left leg across the opposing shoulder, gave a satisfied look in the mirror, and strutted off to find her mother.
 

Which just goes to show, you can wear almost anything if you wear it with style.

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Remember the year when those inflatable lawn ornaments first came out?  Away with the plastic soldiers and manger scenes…

There’s an eery quality to this year’s Christmas.  You see it when you’re driving around during the day.  Yards filled with deflated creatures:  Santas, Snowmen, Grinches and their assorted minions–waiting for dusk and the flip of a switch to let them rise up from the earth in a Silent Night of the Living Dead.  All night long they tower above the yard; then daylight comes, and they return to the earth and wait.

…and what about those skeletal reindeer nodding their bleached white heads on suburban lawns?