First there was Atticus Finch (okay, he was first from a book) who showed the strength and difficulty of a single father. Now there's Tatsuo Kusakabe.
Well who the hell is that?
Tatsuo Kusakabe is the name of the father in the animated Japanese movie "My Neighbor Totoro," written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki in 1988. It reached these shores shortly thereafter in VHS format, and most recently (with a new dub and voice cast) DVD through Studio Ghibli's partnership with Disney in 2006. It reached my house sometime in 2008 via Netflix and it has remained there, not being sent back ever since.
"My Neighbor Totoro" shows us a Japanese family in the late 50s struggling with many difficulties. The mother is stuck in a hospital room, her health going back and forth (with, presumably, tuberculosis), while the father and their two daughters move to a new house in the country that will be much better for the mother's health, should she get to come home.
The girls are excited about their new surroundings and always talk about what their mother and how she will like the new house so much. They are adventurous and imaginative and encounter some strange things going on in the new house.
It is how the father embraces the imagination of the daughters that I find so positive. For a long time now, the Ward Cleaver dad has been gone from popular media and we've seen more of a Al Bundy/Homer Simpson father figure. While this isn't all negative (at least these families have fathers who didn't run out on them, despite the many problems with their respective families), I don't think that we've ever seen a father as strong and supportive as Tatsuo Kusakabe. When the daughters tell him about the strange happenings in the house, where Ward Cleaver would dash their silly superstitions and Homer Simpson would run away, he says, "Great! I've always wanted to live in a haunted house!" he doesn't even bat an eye, he goes with it, enthusiastically and positively.
Tatsuo struggles to keep his daughters positive despite their distance from the ailing mother and his busy university job. He takes the bus to work and the kids walk to school with a kind neighbor, Granny. Somewhere in the mix, the youngest daughter, Mei, stumbles into a forest and finds a gigantic furry rabbit-looking thing called a Totoro. When she excitedly returns to tell the family about it, her father believes her instantly. He's excited that she has met a "forest spirit" and says that if he or the older daughter cannot see him, it's because he doesn't want to be seen, not that he doesn't exist.
There's no overarching plot to the movie. It's a character-based story, and while that might seem like it would be boring for kids, it's anything but. My daughters (one of whom looks an awful lot like Mei and the other like her sister Sastsuki) can watch it over and over without every wanting anything else. And the thing is, I can, too.
While the story touches on hardships and transitions in life, there's never any of that tension that makes a story too plot heavy. Everything is treated matter-of-factly, leaving the audience to understand that this is their life and that while our problems and circumstances may differ, they're a lot like us.
I'm a big fan of Pixar films, but they almost always follow a male protagonist. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But Miyazaki films almost always follow a strong female protagonist. I like this because I think it shows a positive picture of girlhood to my daughters--one not filled with princesses and ponies, of but climbing, exploring, and curiosity. If you've never seen a Studio Ghibli film, you really are missing out on quite a spectacle. Miyazaki movies are hand-drawn and often call for different media for their animation--water colors, charcoal, black ink, and colored pencil are all used in his films. There is a sensitivity for the art and soundtrack that rings through kids and adults. And the Disney dubs are cast perfectly and with an almost divine respect for the way the lips move. The actors and actresses speak in a rhythmic, almost snare-drum style to match the original speaking roles.
In all honesty, I recommend this movie not just to parents but to anyone who has a respect for film making. While Miyazaki certainly has more exciting flicks out there, "My Neighbor Totoro" is a pleasant, heartfelt story that is really, really hard to beat.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
School Fund Raising and Harsh Indoctrination
My daughter was pretty excited when my wife picked her up from school yesterday. She had just finished an assembly where they showed her "all of the cool prizes" that she could win by selling stuff. In her little folder was a whole catalog full of useless stuff at outrageous prices. Along with that was another catalog of much more useless stuff that she can win just for selling these items. A particular favorite of hers was the stuffed cow you can have for selling 65 items. ("65 items" echoes in the background and fades out). A particular favorite of mine was the choice you get for selling 150 items--either a cell phone with 30(!) prepaid minutes or an actual $100 bill.
I know that you know this by now, but she's four and she's in kindergarten.
Bribing a kid her age with an exciting assembly featuring things you can "win" just doesn't seem fair. A hundred bucks? Do you have any idea how many hours you would have to work (or your parents would have to work) to sell 150 items such as $20 wrapping paper, $15 cookie dough, and $25 picture frames? Hours and hours.
I' ve looked through this catalog. It's not like I can just take it to work, pin it up above the coffee pot and wait for the orders to come spilling in. No one will buy. There's nothing worth buying. What the hell is this plan all about anyway?
There is something wrong with a school fund raiser that aims directly at the parents to order a few things so that their kid might get a prize or two (there is a generous "mystery prize" for selling one item...I think we'll take the cookie dough). The problem is overwhelmingly apparent: the parents lose money and the school doesn't make very much.
A public school gets funding from the surrounding community in the form of property taxes, sales taxes, and in some cases, income taxes. When I school sets up a fund raiser like this, they are asking for a little extra money from that community. But my $15 of cookie dough will not go directly to the school. A few dollars has to pay for the dough and the company that puts on the fund raiser. Then, about fifty cents or so goes to the "mystery prize" that will brighten my little kindergartener's day. At the end of it all, I'd guess (and it is purely a guess) that $3-5 will go to the school. Honestly, I'd rather spend the five bucks to directly support the school, if they need the money so bad.
The same thing happens with soda machines. The school installs them and they get sometimes up to fifty cents on the dollar. But, in order to keep their contract, they have to push the product, install more machines, and in many cases allow the students to drink sodas in class. Let's not tough the health issues that go along with this, but from a purely money point of view, this still picks the community's pockets without giving much to the school.
I know that schools are hurting for money. I know teachers should be paid more, too, and class sizes should be smaller. I hate to be the one to throw this out there, but maybe we should--as a community--be handing more money over to the schools if we believe in what they are doing for our community and expect them to do a good job. If we don't, let's tear the damn things down. I can't see how selling cookie dough and wrapping paper while teaching my kid to be motivated by money and prizes is a good compromise.
Anyone want to order anything?
I know that you know this by now, but she's four and she's in kindergarten.
Bribing a kid her age with an exciting assembly featuring things you can "win" just doesn't seem fair. A hundred bucks? Do you have any idea how many hours you would have to work (or your parents would have to work) to sell 150 items such as $20 wrapping paper, $15 cookie dough, and $25 picture frames? Hours and hours.
I' ve looked through this catalog. It's not like I can just take it to work, pin it up above the coffee pot and wait for the orders to come spilling in. No one will buy. There's nothing worth buying. What the hell is this plan all about anyway?
There is something wrong with a school fund raiser that aims directly at the parents to order a few things so that their kid might get a prize or two (there is a generous "mystery prize" for selling one item...I think we'll take the cookie dough). The problem is overwhelmingly apparent: the parents lose money and the school doesn't make very much.
A public school gets funding from the surrounding community in the form of property taxes, sales taxes, and in some cases, income taxes. When I school sets up a fund raiser like this, they are asking for a little extra money from that community. But my $15 of cookie dough will not go directly to the school. A few dollars has to pay for the dough and the company that puts on the fund raiser. Then, about fifty cents or so goes to the "mystery prize" that will brighten my little kindergartener's day. At the end of it all, I'd guess (and it is purely a guess) that $3-5 will go to the school. Honestly, I'd rather spend the five bucks to directly support the school, if they need the money so bad.
The same thing happens with soda machines. The school installs them and they get sometimes up to fifty cents on the dollar. But, in order to keep their contract, they have to push the product, install more machines, and in many cases allow the students to drink sodas in class. Let's not tough the health issues that go along with this, but from a purely money point of view, this still picks the community's pockets without giving much to the school.
I know that schools are hurting for money. I know teachers should be paid more, too, and class sizes should be smaller. I hate to be the one to throw this out there, but maybe we should--as a community--be handing more money over to the schools if we believe in what they are doing for our community and expect them to do a good job. If we don't, let's tear the damn things down. I can't see how selling cookie dough and wrapping paper while teaching my kid to be motivated by money and prizes is a good compromise.
Anyone want to order anything?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Kindergartners Shouldn't be Tested
For that matter, I don't think anyone should be tested in school. I think tests are archaic ways to measure successful learning and at least as arbitrary as the grading system as a whole, but perhaps worse. They create unnecessary anxiety, pressure, and consequences. By no means should kindergartners ever have to take tests.
My four year old has had to do 20 minutes of standardized testing for the last two days. She'll be doing it for three days next week as well. And while these test times are mercifully short, they shouldn't be there at all.
What does one hope to measure by testing a four year old? The only thing that can be accurately measured by any test is how well a student takes a test--this is especially true for the very young and should illuminate the situation on all ages. Testing applies a pressure to perform in students that makes the completion of an education seem like an all-or-nothing search. It suggests that all students learn at the same rate, which they don't. Even the teachers applying these tests to the children think it's a waste of time. We may as well test them at archery or horse betting if we're looking for something to measure.
Testing cannot, by definition, measure creativity. And is creativity not a part of intelligence? Does it not lead to learning? Are we not to value creativity at all? I am in the fortunate position of college English professor where I never have to instruct students to fill in the bubble with a number two pencil all the way. I am in the fortunate position of getting a window into the creative minds of my students, to see how they solve problems, to see how they approach situations, and to learn a little about how their particular thinking developed. In the end, I am in the unfortunate position of having to then assign a measure to their level of accomplishment in my class. Fortunately, for me at least, this can be based on improvements, effort, number of tasks completed and many other factors that don't suggest right and wrong thinking.
That's what's so terrible about testing to me. Beyond being boring and encouraging students to not be engaged in class for years and years at a time, they suggest the existence of a single correct answer for situations. In many cases, when I was taking standardized tests, I would have to choose between answers that I didn't think answered a damn thing. Yes, it does say to choose the "best" answer, but why force me to choose between poor options, I always thought?
Why do we have such a lust for numbers and measures anyway? We are a society obsessed with statistics. The most boring meetings I go to involve someone standing up in front presenting statistic after statistic and linking them together to present a conclusion that they would have reached philosophically without the statistics in the first place. We use them to show everything. And we always--above all else--think that our goal is to show that every single person has the same potential for accomplishment and learning through the same time frame and methods as everyone else. This is, alas, not true. No one worth their salt actually believes it to be true. And yet still we strive for that pointless gold standard--to teach everyone the same thing through the same means at the same time and have them all progress at the same rate. People are not goddamn computers! The very idea is disproved by research all over the place and has been a useless idea since shortly after modern education began. And yet, still. Still.
We look back at 19th Century science and laugh at how people thought that lumps on a head or shade of skin can express intelligence and creativity. Some day--if humans are to evolve at all--we will be laughed at for our insistence on the trust we put in testing.
Students, at any age, are individuals. They should be measured as such. The completion of an education should be about its own intrinsic value and not the value of having a fancy piece of paper or the value of a high paying job. Should education be for everyone? Yes; but not the same education.
People, please, let's get our heads out of our asses. We're wasting the time of countless four year olds and their teachers and setting a low standard for what education can and should be for each and every person.
My four year old has had to do 20 minutes of standardized testing for the last two days. She'll be doing it for three days next week as well. And while these test times are mercifully short, they shouldn't be there at all.
What does one hope to measure by testing a four year old? The only thing that can be accurately measured by any test is how well a student takes a test--this is especially true for the very young and should illuminate the situation on all ages. Testing applies a pressure to perform in students that makes the completion of an education seem like an all-or-nothing search. It suggests that all students learn at the same rate, which they don't. Even the teachers applying these tests to the children think it's a waste of time. We may as well test them at archery or horse betting if we're looking for something to measure.
Testing cannot, by definition, measure creativity. And is creativity not a part of intelligence? Does it not lead to learning? Are we not to value creativity at all? I am in the fortunate position of college English professor where I never have to instruct students to fill in the bubble with a number two pencil all the way. I am in the fortunate position of getting a window into the creative minds of my students, to see how they solve problems, to see how they approach situations, and to learn a little about how their particular thinking developed. In the end, I am in the unfortunate position of having to then assign a measure to their level of accomplishment in my class. Fortunately, for me at least, this can be based on improvements, effort, number of tasks completed and many other factors that don't suggest right and wrong thinking.
That's what's so terrible about testing to me. Beyond being boring and encouraging students to not be engaged in class for years and years at a time, they suggest the existence of a single correct answer for situations. In many cases, when I was taking standardized tests, I would have to choose between answers that I didn't think answered a damn thing. Yes, it does say to choose the "best" answer, but why force me to choose between poor options, I always thought?
Why do we have such a lust for numbers and measures anyway? We are a society obsessed with statistics. The most boring meetings I go to involve someone standing up in front presenting statistic after statistic and linking them together to present a conclusion that they would have reached philosophically without the statistics in the first place. We use them to show everything. And we always--above all else--think that our goal is to show that every single person has the same potential for accomplishment and learning through the same time frame and methods as everyone else. This is, alas, not true. No one worth their salt actually believes it to be true. And yet still we strive for that pointless gold standard--to teach everyone the same thing through the same means at the same time and have them all progress at the same rate. People are not goddamn computers! The very idea is disproved by research all over the place and has been a useless idea since shortly after modern education began. And yet, still. Still.
We look back at 19th Century science and laugh at how people thought that lumps on a head or shade of skin can express intelligence and creativity. Some day--if humans are to evolve at all--we will be laughed at for our insistence on the trust we put in testing.
Students, at any age, are individuals. They should be measured as such. The completion of an education should be about its own intrinsic value and not the value of having a fancy piece of paper or the value of a high paying job. Should education be for everyone? Yes; but not the same education.
People, please, let's get our heads out of our asses. We're wasting the time of countless four year olds and their teachers and setting a low standard for what education can and should be for each and every person.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Ghost of my Imagination
My daughters can easily find themselves frightened. An odd noise, a dark room, and they easily see the materialization of something unseen, of something other, of something frightening. And it doesn't surprise me that this is the case. Their imaginations are flourishing to such a bright and pretty place, it's not wonder the shadows are all the darker.
This morning, while getting my girls in the car for their mom to go get their eyes checked, Luna told me about how her friend, Cheer Rainbow, had a pretend unicorn for a friend. Cheer Rainbow--some sort of a totally ridiculous pony that follows Luna around--is so real to her that she even has her own imaginary friends. Now don't get me wrong, Cheer Rainbow isn't always fun to have around--for example, I regularly have to go and get her from the basement where she gets stuck every so often--but it is delightful to know that there are those with such rich imaginations.
The reflection of that imagination is found at night, with ghosts making sounds or aliens out in the bushes (I should note that there's a part of me that doesn't doubt the sounds could have been ghosts and dreads the thought of little eyes staring back from the bushes). But I find myself jealous of the fear that they experience.
It sounds stupid, because the last thing I want is to be actually afraid. But I used to like making myself scared. I loved camping and fearing what was out there. I loved watching scary movies and finding myself unable to sleep. I loved the dusky nights just before Halloween, reading Ray Bradbury stories and knowing that there is more to our world than I'd like there to be.
Even as recently as high school (or maybe, sometimes, college), I found myself unable to walk through a dark hallway without putting my fists up. But this past week, my wife and I have been renting horror movies and I have to say that they've done nothing for me.
Can it be that my imagination has withered to the point of not being able to be scared by a horror movie at all? That may not be so surprising, I suppose, as most of today's horror movies rely on gore to disquiet the nerves and that has never affected me much. But shouldn't I be open enough to imagination to have trouble sleeping after seeing a ghost movie while I'm living in a old house that I just moved into? (okay, 1408 was a good movie, and tense, but I slept totally fine)
I can't help but to think that something is lost. It could be that since I am no longer the center of my world, I fear something happening to my family a thousand times more than something happening to myself. I can't stand stories or movies where a kid dies. But I don't get scared, just disturbed and angry at the thought.
I don't want to think that the practical world is so important to me that I can't suspend disbelief long enough to get lost in a movie. Maybe the stories weren't good enough. Maybe the characters weren't convincing. Or, just maybe, my problem is the same problem that prevents me from seeing Cheer Rainbow and her imaginary, imaginary unicorn.
This morning, while getting my girls in the car for their mom to go get their eyes checked, Luna told me about how her friend, Cheer Rainbow, had a pretend unicorn for a friend. Cheer Rainbow--some sort of a totally ridiculous pony that follows Luna around--is so real to her that she even has her own imaginary friends. Now don't get me wrong, Cheer Rainbow isn't always fun to have around--for example, I regularly have to go and get her from the basement where she gets stuck every so often--but it is delightful to know that there are those with such rich imaginations.
The reflection of that imagination is found at night, with ghosts making sounds or aliens out in the bushes (I should note that there's a part of me that doesn't doubt the sounds could have been ghosts and dreads the thought of little eyes staring back from the bushes). But I find myself jealous of the fear that they experience.
It sounds stupid, because the last thing I want is to be actually afraid. But I used to like making myself scared. I loved camping and fearing what was out there. I loved watching scary movies and finding myself unable to sleep. I loved the dusky nights just before Halloween, reading Ray Bradbury stories and knowing that there is more to our world than I'd like there to be.
Even as recently as high school (or maybe, sometimes, college), I found myself unable to walk through a dark hallway without putting my fists up. But this past week, my wife and I have been renting horror movies and I have to say that they've done nothing for me.
Can it be that my imagination has withered to the point of not being able to be scared by a horror movie at all? That may not be so surprising, I suppose, as most of today's horror movies rely on gore to disquiet the nerves and that has never affected me much. But shouldn't I be open enough to imagination to have trouble sleeping after seeing a ghost movie while I'm living in a old house that I just moved into? (okay, 1408 was a good movie, and tense, but I slept totally fine)
I can't help but to think that something is lost. It could be that since I am no longer the center of my world, I fear something happening to my family a thousand times more than something happening to myself. I can't stand stories or movies where a kid dies. But I don't get scared, just disturbed and angry at the thought.
I don't want to think that the practical world is so important to me that I can't suspend disbelief long enough to get lost in a movie. Maybe the stories weren't good enough. Maybe the characters weren't convincing. Or, just maybe, my problem is the same problem that prevents me from seeing Cheer Rainbow and her imaginary, imaginary unicorn.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
