Fantastical Nuances of the Family Narrative! (A multimedia ex-TRAVA-ganzA!!!!

Going through life, zooming through space, our intrepid adventurer finds himself faced ferociously and phonetically by the most fiendish fields of fiduciary finds: the Family Narrative.


So, what exactly is a family narrative? Well, it kind of depends on the point of view of the person involved, as well as just what we call a family. I guess that, in the biggest sense, a family narrative could be thought of as...

Oooh...ahhh...so infinity...

the Universal narrative: the story of, quite literally, everything. This includes the things we know, the things we knew, the things we will know, the things we might have known if we'd noticed the bit of pop-tart that found its way into the experiment, the things that we'll never know, and the things that we never could have even learned about with a million chimpanzees fired at the sun, trying to figure out the button to turn them around. But this is a fairly boring history, because there's so much of it that any comprehensive (and comprehensible) version would either be really reduced--things were and things happened!--or go on long after anyone remotely interested in learning it has been burned up by a thousand solar flares. So, let's go smaller:

I can see my house

the Solar narrative! Now, this looks more manageable...except not. Once again (like the picture) anything would have to be too simplified to really make sense. Leaving us with

You know this is inaccurate, because it has no clouds over Oregon.

one of two narratives: the Earth narrative, or the Human narrative. I know a lot of people see those two as synonymous, but considering that humanity has been around for the barest part of the 'b' in blip, those two are very different. Still, once again, we have the problem of too much complexity, and not enough time. Leaving us with National narratives (quick shout-out to APUSH [AP-US History], I loved that class), the State/ Territory/ Provincial narrative, Town narrative, and the Individual narrative.

And it's this last one that I'm going to focus on, because I'm going to use the single most restrictive definition of family possible...OK, maybe not the most restrictive. I'm still counting my step-mom here. So, yay!

"I will reap your soul with my dead eyes."

I know my family narrative fairly well. On my dad's side (let's follow the old x-chromosome), the family immigrated in the early part of the 20th century. My great-great grandfather was an orphan from Switzerland, and on the boat he met and feel in love with another orphan. They married in New York, and had a family. His reputation has...not survived the years well. While not a bad man, he is remembered as a drunk, who would pick up my great-great grandmother by her ankles, and shake her until the money she'd hidden in her dress fell out. I don't have space to go too much into my great-grandfather--Oscar--'s story, but I will just say that at 12 he moved the family to California, and spent the rest of his life doing amazing things. Then came along my grandfather, who eventually married my grandmother (she woke up on her birthday that year and said, "this year, I will get married"), had four beautiful children, and moved up to Oregon. Then, eventually, my dad met my mom, and had my sister and me! Everything else is a story for my kids. My grandmother, meanwhile, is from Boise Idaho. Her father run the town drugstore, and had she been born 20 years later, would undoubtedly be CEO and/ or president at this point.
As for the y-chromosome, my mom's maiden name was Kerrick, and her mom's maiden name was Lee. I have been told since I was little that our line is descended from Robert E. Lee, once removed. Basically, our ancestor was his brother. What is not mentioned is the ramification. I have slave owning ancestors, and that horrifies me at a gut level. What do I do with this information? How can I reconcile my values with the fact that an ancestor I can neither name nor pick out of a line-up did such a terrible thing? I don't know. However, I do find that my mom's family--which takes such pride in their ancestry and the tiny details therein--would decided not to include that fact.

Now comes the fun part. What follows is two (someday, I hope, three/ four if I can ever get a time that works with my grandparents) interviews with people whom I respect about their family narratives. Both I would call friends, and both have been colleagues. Neither wanted to appear on camera, hence the interesting angle.

1) An immigrant from Germany.

2) A woman of color living in America.

What I find interesting about these narratives (and the views therein) are how different they are from my own. It's almost comical how closely both sides of the family mirror the overarching American narrative: they're all about individuals who drag themselves up and through life by their own bootstraps, a great list of amazing people who did incredible things. The other narratives, however, show different stories. The first--as my friend says--contains aspects of regret passed down from previous generations for moving from where they were born. There's also a sense of cultural connection, that she told her children these stories to keep them connected to Germany. The second had an aspect of dark humor about it, that even when things are down, there is still something to laugh about. However, there's also--as with my family--a kind of reverence, especially with people we knew. When we tell these stories, we bring the people who told them to us back to life, and try to capture exactly how they were told to us. In many ways, these stories are incredibly personal narratives, and it is important to remember that when we are told them, we must respect the way that they are told, even if we are unfamiliar to us.

So, why am I talking about this in a Social Studies blog? What on earth does family history have to do with the subject? Wouldn't this fit better in a Language Arts class? Well, here's the thing: I would argue that all history is a conglomeration of family narratives. People--or families--that do great things get their exploits exposed on the pages so, "carefully" skimmed by the average student (really, who can blame them half the time?), while average people get meshed into the conglomeration of background information. Meanwhile, the way that we tell history--and the tone that we give it--can affect the story as well. If we keep only telling history one way--one point of view, one kind of story--then we are not only leave out important information, but send the message that other kinds of story telling are not worth the time in academia. I've always felt that exploring other view points helps round out my own point of view. In a way, I guess, this whole experience has left me with a question. How can we grown what it means to teach Social Studies and history? How can we, as teachers in a profession, grow what it means to be human if we can move beyond, "the way it's always been?" Just a thought.

This has been another adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends. If you hated it, tell your enemies. And if you don't care either way, then tell everyone.

Beware the Lies of the March (of HISTORY!)

This post focuses on structure. For a more content focused discussion, please click here to go over to the vlog.

This is what I like to call a, “required post.” See, this blog started out as an assignment for class (“But why stop there?” He thought. “This is fun!” He thought. “I’m sure it won’t take up too much extra time.” He thought.), and the class is still on going. I’ve already hit the required number of posts, but two have a pre-set topic.

1)    A book review (hint hint, that one might be this post)

2)    A multi-media extravaganza, a sensual ravishment (cue more Moulin Rouge quotes)

So, today, for your enjoyment, I proudly present

Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Teacher Got Wrong

(c.o. https://www.amazon.com/Lies-My-Teacher-Told-Everything/dp/0684818868/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1476318873&sr=8-2&keywords=lies+my+history+teacher+told+me) (See? I cite my sources.)

See…old, vintage pictures!

Revisit…amazing facts locked away in the recesses of your intellect.

Learn…the sordid truth that you knew all along: your teacher was an evil, lying mastermind! Their job: torture you with the two sinister femme fatales—Miss Information, and Miss Interpretation!

Except not.

Full disclosure: I love history. No, love isn’t strong enough. I want to marry it, and have two beautiful children, and live in a suburb, with easy access to…OK, maybe not quite that much. But it’s clearly a passion of mine.

Full disclosure #2: I really enjoyed this book. I love learning new things—all those little tidbits that you bring up at parties, and then have people awkwardly walk away because they have no idea what to say—and this book is filled with fun facts.

That being said, I have a few problems with it.

First off—and I know that this will look like a weird critique, but work with me on this—this book was written in 1996. It’s been 20 years, and a lot has changed. How do I know? Because my schooling brought me into contact with two of the textbooks, years after, Lies was published.

1)   The American Nation: Used in my seventh grade Humanities class. I didn’t really like it at the time, so my opinion might be a wee bit biased.

2)   The American Pageant: Used in my APUSH class. I loved the book, and I loved the teacher who used it, and I loved the class it was in. Once again, I might be a little biased here.

So, what does this fact have to do with anything? Textbooks change. By the time that both textbooks got to me, they had both been revised; and I would say, in hindsight, that, Lies had an effect on those revisions. True, The American Nation struck me as dry and unpatriotic, but not nearly as exceptionalism-driven as, Lies makes it out to be. Likewise, The American Pageant had been greatly changed by the time that I got it. Gone was the Woodrow Wilson, clad in shining armor of perfection! Instead, we get a man—still, I might say, held a little too high—who ultimately failed in his goals. The textbook calls him out for his…erm…”helping hand,” shall we say, in America’s “back yard,” although not as much as, Lies would like. Pageant also now remarks on the later part of the Wilson presidency, particularly how he became so infirm, and how his wife took on a suspiciously auspicious role as the deliverer of his will.

Not that I’m reading anything into that.

Furthermore, Pageant does bring up the fact that Hellen Keller was a devoted socialist, a fact that the textbook presents as neither positive nor negative (which, quite frankly, is in my opinion the correct view to take about a lot of history). In other words, many of the examples that the textbook uses have become somewhat dated.

All that being said, my biggest issue with the structure of the book is how formulaic it is. Just look at the first chapter: it starts out with an introduction to show the problem, provides evidence in the form of two American heroes, compares and contrasts them, and then concludes with a solution. It’s just the basic, “compare and contrast to solve a problem” essay. In truth, I don't mind that, since most essays can be boiled down to a specific form. However, the sheer acreage the chapters take up don’t support the amount of content in them. I guess—and, let’s get real, given the size of these posts, I’m a little hypocritical here—I don’t feel as though the content really supports how much space it takes up. I feel as though the authors should have had shorter chapters, or included more examples. I know that it’s a small thing, but it makes me feel like the book was a bit of a wasted opportunity. The chapters either could have been short and sweet—the kind of thing that you can read while you’re on the bus—or so jam packed full of ideas that it would be almost impossible to argue against them. Then again, that’s just y two cents.

So, what’s my overall impression of the book? I like it, as I’ve said, and I think that it served an important niche. That being said, I think that we need a new edition. The textbooks used in classes have a powerful impact on what students learn. Even if a student never cracks one open, the teacher still aligns what they teach with the material—giving the course a sense of cohesion—so that those who do read are not as confused. And, there is a bit of a textbook problem these days.

Texas is one of a few states that recently changed their history curriculum. The move is towards what I would call a more biased history, one that focuses on the positives and always tries to paint the US in a healthy light. In other words, it rose tints the lenses that we use (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/news/texas-textbooks/ [I'm not actually that fond of Huff Po, but I didn't feel like clicking on another source]). This fact wouldn’t be too much of a problem, except that the state of texas holds an almost alarmingly disproportionate percentage of the textbook market. Basically, if Texas makes a choice, it affects everyone, even those from states with vastly different curriculum.

That fact is why books like, Lies are important. They not only correct misconceptions, but give teachers and students an alternative to the history that they are taught. Clearly, I don’t think that history should be positives. History is this wonderfully messy, uncomfortable, undulating thing, where the good idea of one period turns into the problem of another. By only teaching a positive view of history—by ignoring what, Lies brings up—we teach kids that history is linear, and that nothing we do can go wrong. So, when things do go wrong, we have intense nostalgia for the past, even when it’s just as messed up as the future. So, I urge you, look at the kind of messy history brought up in, Lies—look beyond this overly patriotic habberdash that counts as, “the one true history”—and find something more real, more attainable, and altogether more human.

This has been another exciting adventure in the austentatious! If you liked it, tell your friends. If you hated it, tell your enemies. And if you don’t care either way, then tell everybody. Peace out.

A Cultural Transformational Translation

(Click here for the vlog)
Sooner or later, every teacher should give their students a primary source. They offer a glimpse into the culture of a place, in the voice of the people who live there, and provide a perspective that students would otherwise have access to. For example, for the past few years I've been enjoying a series of articles on Mental Floss about the battles of WWI (http://mentalfloss.com/article/86941/wwi-centennial-tide-turns-against-romania). Believe it or not, we've reached the centennial of, "the war to end all wars." The way that history is taught in most classes, wars seem to have an inevitable conclusion. Either this sense comes from the fact that many people already know these stories--and, indeed, we are all here to tell them--or an idea that, due to factors early on in the war, we can deduce that one side was simply destined to win. I could go on at length about this problem, but I think that's a post for another time. Back to my original point: the mental floss articles include telegrams, diary entries, and letters from those who were experiencing these events first hand. Within those letters, we see a different narrative than what is presented in most history classes: one of terror, uncertainty, and a sense of being beaten down. In this way, primary sources add life to a classroom, and help challenge some of the fundamental views we take about historic events.
But, primary sources don't just have to be about history. By reading newspapers and speeches from foreign countries (or watching translated/ subtitled videos), we get a sense of what those cultures value. However, there's a slight wrinkle in the proceedings...

"Oh yay," you might say, "he's finally stopped monologueing and is getting into the good stuff." Pishaw, good reader. The stuff above is perfectly good too, if a little dry. But, if our news is anything like life, then we as a society much prefer to look at the negative (evidence: http://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-30318261).

See, translations will never be perfect, regardless of what they're talking about. Let's take, for example, these two texts:

a) A news article about the peace process between the Columbian government and FARC:
"Hace décadas, una bomba del IRA (Ejército Republicano Irlandés) colocada en un cubo de basura en el centro de Londres arrojó al suelo a un joven colombiano que trabajaba para la Federación del Café." (http://www.bbc.com/mundo/noticias-america-latina-37506432)

b) The first stanza of, Versos Sencillos, a poem by an early Cuban revolutionary, Jose Marti.
Yo soy un hombre sincero
de donde crece la palma,
y antes de morirme quiero
echar mis versos del alma.

Now, let's try translating word for word, with no change for meaning:
a) It does decades, a bomb of the IRA (Irish Republican Army) placed in a cube of garbage in the center of London threw into the air a young Colombian who worked for the Federation of the Coffee.

b) I am a man sincere
where grows the palm tree,
y before I'm dead I want
to throw the verses of my soul.

So, while both of them are understandable, they leave a lot to be desired. Let's try that again, this time with being a bit less exact:

a) Decades ago, a young Columbian--working for the Coffee Federation in the center of London--was thrown into the air by a bomb planted in a garbage can by the IRA.

b) I am an honest man
from where the palm trees grow,
and before I die, I want to write
these precious words of my soul.

I think that we can all agree, much better. So, I changed some word, moved them around, and got the general gist. What does any of this really have to do with class? Well, first off, let's take a look at the first words of the news story, 'a'. (For more discussion about the poem--and translations in general--please see this video.)

1a) Decades ago...
1b) It was only a few decades ago...
1c) Time: Decades in the past.
1d) It seemed a day like any other, mere decades ago,
1e) When moments seem to last years, a couple decades can seem a lifetime.

Each of these five sentences/ phrases gives the same general gist: we're not talking about now, we're talking about something that happened a while ago. But, here's the thing: each option gives a slightly different feeling. 1c sounds very clinical, while 1d gives a slight feeling of trepidation. For an article about a peace process (which, I have just found out, failed the plebiscite: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-37537252), the tone can convey everything. A more sinister start can make the deal seem treacherous, while a more upbeat tone transforms it into the greatest thing since sliced bread.

The fact of the matter is, most Social Studies teachers are trying to form some sort of narrative for the whole year, and the materials that we choose to provide affect how that material is received. The tones that teachers choose to use in their texts--and there is usually more than one translation option--affect how the class views the events. Moreover, using a variety of materials, with a variety of view points, can really help flesh out a boring lesson. Just don't go too far...

Teacher: Hey everyone, today we're going to learn about the Code of Hammurabi!
Class: Groan!
Student 1: But we already read about that!
Teacher: Well today we're going to watch a video about a culture that still uses it.
Student 2: Really?
Student 3: Wow, they weren't kidding when they said an eye for an eye.
Student 4: Look at the blood fly!
Student 1: We should do this in class!
Teacher: Classroom-material integration! (TEACHER gives thumbs up).

Uh, no.