This Is Not Really About Children So Much

Having a themed blog is tricky. Sometimes I want to write about stuff that is not really related to children. This post is slightly related to children in only the most teeny tiny way. Enjoy.

"...we wanted to affirm the idea that media is something you can choose and control, not a collective demonic unconscious that fills up your imagination and swallows all your spare time."

The quote comes from a series on homeschooling on Salon:
http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2010/08/29/homeschooling_dora_the_explorer/index.html

I often contemplate my media intake. I love the internet because it answers all of my questions in an instant. The bad side is that I often find myself mindlessly surfing Huffington Post rather than doing important tasks like tracking down my missing 401 (k) plan from 2005. In general, though, I'm pretty in control of what I'm listening to and reading. For example, I know that I love reading about national and international events, but I hate watching local newscasts. I despise sitting there and watching other people's personal tragedies played out for dramatic effect. I don't like feeling threatened by my household objects or the weather or bedbugs. There is nothing good about local news. My solution is to refuse to watch it*.

* The obvious exception to this ban is NY1, because it's so low budget that they just give you the basics, no drama, no creepy co-anchor banter between people who actually hate each other. And Pat Kiernan will read the papers to you. Why can't I get NY1 in NH?

Come away with me, Pat.

Where am I going with this? Good question.

Glenn Beck, you are no Pat Kiernan.

I try to be the boss of my own media consumption, yet somehow I know so much about this scumbag. I've never watched his show. He has invaded the nation's consciousness. Fear of the nebulous, unspecified Other! Mexicans! Muslims! Obama! Kenyans! Commies! Socialists! Nazis! Obama's fake army of middle schoolers! Anchor babies! The Trans Fat Hating Nanny State!

Also...Tea Partiers! They're scary as hell and there's billions of them, or so Glenn Beck and his puppetmasters would like me to think.

This babbling moron gets paid a $32 million dollar salary to scare people into hating each other. I will raise a toast when he departs this earth. Until then, I have been thinking a lot about finding ways to focus my attention on positive things that undermine the culture of fear.

Here's one:
http://www.islamicreliefusa.org/

Here's another one:
http://www.onenationworkingtogether.org/

And another one:
http://maddowblog.msnbc.msn.com/

Those of us who don't want to live in fear have to make conscious choices and stay smart. I've resolved not to be suckered into hating the Tea Party people I see on the internet (I've actually never met one in person) just as I resolved long ago not to be suckered into hating Muslims.

Glenn, I don't hate you. I nothing you.

Rachel Maddow, call me!

I Will Accept Payment To Re-Sign Boston's Roadways

I've been spending a lot of time in the car with young children this week. I'm babysitting for two delightful kids, and we've been hitting a lot of destinations outside their neighborhood. On Monday we drove to the Children's Museum, and today we went all the way over to East Boston to Piers Park.

On Monday, we weren't in the car five minutes before one of them was asking for music. Um...will Neko Case do? You don't find her combination of bizarre lyrics and unconventional song structure compelling, five year-old child? Nor you, three-year old? I tried the radio--the kids cheered because "We love grown-up music!"--but the first song that came on was Eminem's new ode to domestic violence.


Too grown-up.

Luckily there was a copy of the soundtrack for O Brother, Where Art Thou? in the car. I would never choose to listen to that on my own. But the oldest child immediately dubbed it, "farm music" and said, "I never heard it before today but I LOVE farm music!" The younger one fell asleep immediately. Farm Music rules.

Today, I was nervous about navigating out to East Boston, so I convinced them to listen to Farm Music rather than their CD of kids' music. In return, I promised to play the kids' one during the ride home. Could anything be worse than missing your exit in Boston, where wrong turns are irrevocable errors that lead to hours of meandering and no, you're not lost, you know exactly where you are, but every street is one-way going the wrong way and you can SEE Storrow Drive, it's right there but there's no sign for how to get there, because if you really BELONGED here, you would already know how to get there, so just GO HOME already, you interloper!

Yes, it could. You could be driving in Boston while listening to this:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fgx541LvPqg

Dear Pete Seeger, How's Your Banjo? Let Me Know. Thank You.

The kids in my summer group are enchanted by the story Abiyoyo, as read by Pete Seeger. We also have the book in class, but if we try to read it ourselves, they criticize our performance. For example, Pete says that Abiyoyo is coming "nearah, and nearah" and the children require that we do it in the same old-timey accent.

Their favorite part is when Abiyoyo is described as having "stinkin' old feet, 'cause he never washed 'em." Never has a group of shrieking 5 year-olds been so quiet as they are in anticipation of this line.

From what my co-teacher tells me, this group has been in love with Abiyoyo since they were 2 (note: more than half their lives). Many kids I've taught have been afraid of Abiyoyo, so I thought it was pretty awesome that they've enjoyed it since they were so little. I brought in a picture of Pete Seeger to show them and they were floored. It had never occurred to them that an actual person was involved with this song. This CD didn't just fall from the heavens?



Pete (who is 91) was immediately declared "really old", and one boy exclaimed, "Is he ALIVE?" I suggested that we could send him a letter and some drawings of the things they like about Abiyoyo. This is a friendly version of Abiyoyo (from a girl who might be just a little bit scared of him):




Other than this smiling giant, and of course the letter pictured above wondering how Pete's banjo is doing, Mr. Seeger will be receiving a lot of pictures of "stinkin' feet" and questions like, "Do YOU have stinkin' old feet?" I like to think he'll get a kick out of it.

I'm not sure Abiyoyo would appreciate the kids giving out his phone number, though.