as printed by the Palisadian Post in December 2010
Hanukah by the Book
We had a tradition when I was growing up that we would get a present each night of Hanukah. My Mother would ask us if we wanted a big, small or medium present. Nothing was extravagant, just enough giving to last 8 nights, like the oil that spawned the holiday.
So, one night, (I think I was seven), after we’d lit the candles, I asked for a medium sized gift. I remember unwrapping my flattish package and turning it over to see that it was a book. I quickly announced with childish agony, “THIS ISN’T A PRESENT. IT’S A BOOK!”. Oh, what had I done? After I was informed that my response was both ungracious and rude, I was sent to my room for the remainder of the evening. I think there might have been some yelling involved.
What thoughts must have gone through my parents’ minds that night! “Oy vey Naomi, we’re raising an illiterate,” my Father must have said to my Mother. “We take her to bookstores everywhere, we have over 7,000 volumes of every genre on our bookshelves. We read every night after dinner. We had her read “Eloise” and “Winnie the Pooh” to us. She CAN read. What does this mean?” I don’t think my mother could have consoled him. It was a tragedy in the making!
In my room, I ruminated. What had I done? Was it really so wrong? I didn’t like reading. I liked playing and swimming and Barbies and,,,,, TV. I didn’t even like that all my family ever wanted to do was sit around and read. It made me crazy that my older sister would sit in the chair right in front of the TV and read and not watch. I couldn’t talk to her about what Dr. Kildare had just done to his patient. She wasn’t paying attention.
As Mom always did, after sending me to my room, she eventually came in to talk to me. I wasn’t too open to conversation. She calmly explained that even if I hadn’t liked the present, I should have thanked them anyway. To reject it so instantly was the zenith of impoliteness. “Why don’t we read it together” she suggested, “and then you can decide if you like it or not.” I recall not agreeing, but obviously, I heard her.
Well, here we are some 40+ years later and I’ve come to terms with it all. I finally read “Mr. Poppers Penguins.” (I realize many of you will gasp to think I wouldn’t want to read that particular classic) when my oldest daughter was in a production of it at Pali Elementary. It was cute; the play and the book.
And, what do I find now in my youngest daughter? Lean in and I’m going to whisper this, she doesn’t like to read. You know what? That’s ok. It kills a little bit, but what can you do? You can’t force someone to like what they don’t like when they don’t like it.
Eventually, I learned to love reading. It started with a love of biographies. (Probably because I’m so nosy). That evolved into historical fiction, drama and the rest. I think the only kind of book I still don’t like is science fiction. And so it might be with my daughter. I still buy her books, for Hanukah. And I expect her to be polite, even if she has no plans to read them. I don’t have 7000 volumes in my house, but I have a lot. And one of them is the 47 year old copy of “Mr. Poppers Penguins”.
Friday, May 13, 2011
How the heck can you get into college?
As printed in the Palisadian Post in March 2011
College Today
If I was going to college today, I don’t know if I could get into college today. In the freshman profile of several top tier schools, over 90% admitted seem to come from the top 10% of their graduating classes. Where do the other 90% go I wonder?
When I was going to school, the goal was to get good grades (B or above) in college prep classes. The standards for the University of California system placed you in relatively good stead for just about any university in the country. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not so old that there were no additional criteria needed. We certainly did things that would “look good” on our college applications. I think I walked a 20K for the United Way. I also joined some clubs, ran for a few offices unopposed (thankfully I didn’t have to disclose that I never actually beat anyone else in the election), and played Yente in “Fiddler on the Roof”.
I never really thought about any of this until the first of my friends had her kids. Once they were of high school age, I started hearing about what it would take for this generation to get into college. She spouted a list of criteria. You can’t just play sports, you have to play varsity, can’t just be in the orchestra, you have to be first chair, can’t just be president of a club, you have to be president of the student body, can’t just have a 4.0, you have to have a 5.9 by way of advanced placement and honors classes. And it helps if you have a part time job, and volunteer to build houses while in a foreign language immersion program in either Central America or Africa.
Some years later, while standing in line to have blood drawn at my OB’s office, I heard two women discussing “the” school you just ‘had to” get into if you wanted to get into a decent high school or college. And they were talking about PRESCHOOL. Apparently their unborn 4 year olds were college prep before they were even in utero.
I don’t begrudge those high school kids who are either naturally Type A students, or severely ambitious achievers. It’s great to swim competitively, play tuba and get an altruistic thrill from reading to blind geriatrics. I just hope that those who are more moderately motivated can go to college too. There’s so much to be said for the slow, sure process of getting to know who you are, which has always been the hallmark of the high school experience. Frequently a class that isn’t an honors or AP class is still challenging. To honor that challenge, for that individual is worthy. Spending a Saturday afternoon reading a book that isn’t on the required reading list can be as bracing and eye opening as a more ambitious community service project. Practicing the art of photophraphing a friend and capturing that spontaneous instant is just as valid as having a piece in a juried show. And what teenager doesn’t grow from writing their own angst-ridden soliloquy even if they don’t perform it at the high school spring follies. If a teen grows in Brooklyn but the College Board doesn’t see it, did they still grow? Depth and introspection don’t always translate into “achievement”, but are valuable nonetheless.
Kids have their whole lives in front of them. Is it really necessary for them to know it all now? Isn’t that what college is about? For further discovery, advanced learning and preparation for a life of independence and accomplishment?
Meanwhile, I sit by the mailbox anxiously awaiting the old fashioned yea or nay letters. I know it’s futile. The responses will either be emailed directly to my applicant (and not her mother), or else the envelope will be too thick to read through. All the patience I thought I’d been perfecting these last 17 years is suddenly gone. Check back around April and we’ll see.
College Today
If I was going to college today, I don’t know if I could get into college today. In the freshman profile of several top tier schools, over 90% admitted seem to come from the top 10% of their graduating classes. Where do the other 90% go I wonder?
When I was going to school, the goal was to get good grades (B or above) in college prep classes. The standards for the University of California system placed you in relatively good stead for just about any university in the country. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not so old that there were no additional criteria needed. We certainly did things that would “look good” on our college applications. I think I walked a 20K for the United Way. I also joined some clubs, ran for a few offices unopposed (thankfully I didn’t have to disclose that I never actually beat anyone else in the election), and played Yente in “Fiddler on the Roof”.
I never really thought about any of this until the first of my friends had her kids. Once they were of high school age, I started hearing about what it would take for this generation to get into college. She spouted a list of criteria. You can’t just play sports, you have to play varsity, can’t just be in the orchestra, you have to be first chair, can’t just be president of a club, you have to be president of the student body, can’t just have a 4.0, you have to have a 5.9 by way of advanced placement and honors classes. And it helps if you have a part time job, and volunteer to build houses while in a foreign language immersion program in either Central America or Africa.
Some years later, while standing in line to have blood drawn at my OB’s office, I heard two women discussing “the” school you just ‘had to” get into if you wanted to get into a decent high school or college. And they were talking about PRESCHOOL. Apparently their unborn 4 year olds were college prep before they were even in utero.
I don’t begrudge those high school kids who are either naturally Type A students, or severely ambitious achievers. It’s great to swim competitively, play tuba and get an altruistic thrill from reading to blind geriatrics. I just hope that those who are more moderately motivated can go to college too. There’s so much to be said for the slow, sure process of getting to know who you are, which has always been the hallmark of the high school experience. Frequently a class that isn’t an honors or AP class is still challenging. To honor that challenge, for that individual is worthy. Spending a Saturday afternoon reading a book that isn’t on the required reading list can be as bracing and eye opening as a more ambitious community service project. Practicing the art of photophraphing a friend and capturing that spontaneous instant is just as valid as having a piece in a juried show. And what teenager doesn’t grow from writing their own angst-ridden soliloquy even if they don’t perform it at the high school spring follies. If a teen grows in Brooklyn but the College Board doesn’t see it, did they still grow? Depth and introspection don’t always translate into “achievement”, but are valuable nonetheless.
Kids have their whole lives in front of them. Is it really necessary for them to know it all now? Isn’t that what college is about? For further discovery, advanced learning and preparation for a life of independence and accomplishment?
Meanwhile, I sit by the mailbox anxiously awaiting the old fashioned yea or nay letters. I know it’s futile. The responses will either be emailed directly to my applicant (and not her mother), or else the envelope will be too thick to read through. All the patience I thought I’d been perfecting these last 17 years is suddenly gone. Check back around April and we’ll see.
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