And More Unsettled...

Yesterday went from unsettled to more unsettling.
N. is not the only person who dislikes sudden schedule changes.
Being a midwesterner at heart, I dislike missing commitments.
Even when I have good reason. So following is a photo-essay of why I missed class last night.

January 31, 2008

Dear Professor N.,


Yesterday was a most unsettling day!
This is what it looked like at about 1 PM,
as N. and I were eating lunch.
The storm clouds were sweeping across the Sandia front and into our valley. Still, the snow showers came off and on, and the temperature was about 33 degrees.






At 2 PM, the snow that had covered my driveway was melting in places.
Henry the Big Red Truck had dried himself off by basking in the sunlight that appeared and disappeared as the clouds continued to move briskly across Los Pecos Ridge. So I decided to take a shower and get ready to go. Piece of cake, I thought. I will make it to class.



But when I got out of the shower, my driveway looked like this! Yikes! The temperature had dropped to 23 degrees in half an hour! After consultation with the radio traffic reports, with my husband in town, and with the carpool driver for Machon, and after getting an e-mail from the Sandia Labs East Mountain Drive Updates, we decided that home was definitely the best place to stay. Bruce and MLC even came home early.
We settled in with a video and popcorn to enjoy the blizzard.


And then, as the temperature continued to drop, the wind came up. It stopped snowing over Los Pecos Ridge.
We could see the sky clearing to the west, even as snow continued to fall in Tijeras and in the pass. It did not seem so bad at home, but we could see that the pass would be windy and treacherous.





As the temperature continued to drop,
the cold front came through, with winds strong and fierce. You can see the snow being whipped from north to south along the trees in the high meadow.

The temperature was 16 degrees at this point, and the wind chill was such that in 10 minutes, unexposed skin would be subject to frostbite.

Our road out was drifted. I could probably have gotten into town, but I would not have gotten Henry up the hill later, when coming home. And walking two miles up the hill in this wind would have been life-threatening.

I think I made the right decision.


This morning, we had 1 degree and 5 degrees.
In the predawn, the temperature was 5 degrees above zero. The sky was perfectly clear.

And most spectacularly, Venus and Jupiter were only one degree apart, as they near conjunction in the eastern sky. In the picture, Venus is a faint dot to the left of the tree which is to the left of the right post. If you click on the picture to enlarge it, you will be able to see both planets.

The weather is still unsettled. Cold, with strong winds, is the order of the day. But it should warm up tomorrow. Just in time for another storm to roll in from California this weekend.

Would you accept this excuse?

Some Sunshine on an Unsettled Day...

Frankie, over at Kitchen Table Learners, just passed along some sunshine on an unsettled day.



She has put this "E for Excellent" stamp of approval on Ragamuffin Studies!



I would like to pass it on to:


Judy Aron over at Consent of the Governed. I read this blog almost every day, and sometimes more than once in the day. This blog will give you information on what is going on in the world of politics, the politics of homeschooling, and the politics of education and children, and more, including humor.

Sandy at Junkfood Science. Whatever you think about the politics of food, you owe it to yourself to check out this blog. Sandy, a scientist herself, writes very good reviews of the studies about food and health that often get reported wrongly by the uncritical media.
I appreciate the good science writing here and the rational approach to food.

Dawn at By Sun and Candlelight. This is a beautiful and intricate blog, and Dawn writes with a quiet spirituality about nature, crafts, faith and her life as a homeschooling mother. Peace and comfort are the gifts for which I stop by frequently.

Thanks, Frankie!

Unsettled!

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

On Monday, we woke to a warm wind,

soaked ground and 0.46 inch in

the rain guage.

The clouds were racing across the valley.

When we went to bed Monday night,

the temperature

was 33 degrees F.

On Tuesday morning,

the sky was almost clear,

and we woke to an inch of snow,

and a temperature twenty-one degrees

lower than on Monday night.

Fierce winds had sculpted the snow,

sweeping it into piles and drifts.

The roads and paths were alternately

windswept, and covered in bumpy ice.

Roads and schools were closed.

Sandia and UNM had delayed starts.

This morning, the temperature

was 25 degrees.

The winds are moderate.

Clouds cover the sky,

and snow showers are sweeping

across the mountain valley.

The unsettled weather is reflected in my mood.

I have an unsettled feeling:

About the weather. About the economic climate. About the politics of the nation.

Take Two for the Morning After the State of the Union...

You know how on the morning after, you need to take two aspirin.

Well, here's two song parodies to help with the pain after the State of the Union.

One couldn't be embedded, so you'll need to follow the link.

I don't know about you, but I kind of felt like we have a Circle of Lies...

And it was so Depressing....


It feels like Hoover...

Carnival of Homeschooling 109: Leaving A Legacy

This time of the year, even though the trees here are bare and snow covers the ground,
I am reminded of the story of Honi ha-Maegel, Honi the Circle-Drawer. He is a kind of rabbinic Rip Van Winkle. He tells a story of how he planted some carob trees, which take a generation or more to come to fruition. As he was planting, a young man said to him: "Why are you planting those trees, old one? You will not live to eat their fruit." Honi replied, "I plant for those who will come after me."

Picture by Elisheva Levin, Marin County, CA 17 August 2007

When I was growing up, I was told that my generation was the future. The future of our country, the future of our people and the future of the world. We were like the acorns that drop from the oak tree. We could grow to be fruitful or not. But now as I approach the beginning of my sixth decade on the planet, I am coming to realize that I am one of the oak branches, and it is the children that I am raising who are the future. And the world keeps on turning. As our children become our future, we hope to leave with them a lasting legacy.

As homeschoolers, we are often told by others that they cannot imagine spending so much time with their children. And, although we know we are giving up other things, such as the power career, we have a reason for educating our children ourselves. We want to pass on to them our values, our wisdom and the wisdom of those that came before us. We want to spend time with our children, and we do this to leave with them our lasting legacy.

This week, COH 109: Leaving A Legacy, posted over at Life on the Road, is up to support our efforts, and to let us share the joys of our little and not so little living legacies! Stop by and share ideas, laughter and tears--all those little moments of light and shadow--that add up to our most lasting legacy.

Standing at Sinai as Women

Today, after a whirlwind of planning, and not a few political and practical hitches, our women's Torah study group began.

It all started because our Sisterhood had the foresight to pre-order a large number of The Torah: A Women's Commentary about a year ago. In this way, Sisterhood was able to get a really good deal, and sell the commentaries for about half the going rate (this order only). So the Sisterhood board decided that it would be good to begin a women's Torah study group as soon as possible in order to meet the momentum of interest in this unique book at its peak.

One of the members of the Sisterhood board asked me to teach the group. But in thinking about it, we decided that it would be better for me to chair the group, in order to get things started, but in the spirit of the Autonomous Learner Model, transition gradually from being a Sage on the Stage to a Guide on the Side. (Some of you will recognize this, my unschooling mantra). After all, the point is to get women to access Torah and to develop their scholarly and leadership abilities among women.

And today we began.

I started by modeling a group decision making strategy that allowed us to get options for how we would study on the table, let the women discuss it, while I listened carefully. I then reported back to them what I heard to be the sense of the group: that we would meet monthly on Sunday mornings, and study the parashah (portion) of the week, the one that would be read in Synagogue the following Shabbat. That, further, we would all be paying attention to see if some themes developed that would be worth pursuing, and that we would revisit the question of theme as we continued. This was agreed to be the sense of the group, and so the group made its first decision in a women's way.

Then I did take the Sage on the Stage role for a little bit to discuss with the women the place of Torah study in Jewish life. Torah can be translated as teaching (noun), the Hebrew root is the same for the noun 'teacher.' It is related to the root for 'light', and thus could be interpreted as 'enlightenment' as well. Our Rabbis taught that Torah is like a pomegranite--it has many seeds, many meanings. Each Jew has within herself her own seeds of Torah, that must be shared, for Torah to be whole in the world. Therefore, when the Sefer Torah (scroll) is to be read in synagogue, it is first carried through the holy congregation, to demonstrate that it belongs to the people Israel. It is not the possession of priests, prophets, kings, or rabbis. It belongs to each Jew.

We then discussed the basics of interpretation, using the model of PaRDeS, an acronym for understanding levels of understanding. The Hebrew word pardes, is the word for a walled garden or orchard, and is the root of the word 'paradise.' There are four levels of interpretation. The first is peshat--the simple meaning of the text, its context within Torah, and the meaning of the Hebew words. The second is remez--a hint of something more. This is the level of allegory, allusion, and connections by specific words between different texts within Torah. The third level is derash--searching for meaning. Derash lends itself to moral interepretations and midrash (homiletics) and aggadah (stories and parables). At derash, we span exegesis (thinking about the author's intentions) and isegesis (making personal or contemporary meaning). The fourth level is sod--the hidden, mystical meaning of the text. This is the level of mystical understanding in Zohar and Kabbalah, and possible in poetry and art. We also discussed here the tradition of Torah study--that it is done with a partner or group, so that personal understandings are shared and blended with the received tradition.

Then I sat down, as is customary, to study with the group a short bit of Torah from the women's commentary. For this special occasion, the beginning of the women's Torah study group, I chose two passages from parashat Nitzavi'im--'you are standing .' (Each parashah is called after the opening word or phrase).This portion is in the last book of Torah, Devarim (Deuteronomy), and is normally read in the month of Elul (August-September), as well as on Yom Kippur morning. I read the first two verses in Hebrew, and then asked one of the women to read it in English:

"You stand this day, all of you, before your G-d--you tribal heads, you elders, and you officials, all the men of Israel, you children, you women, even the stranger within your camp, from the woodchopper to the drawer of water--to enter into the covenent of you G-d...to establish you this day as G-d's people..." (Devarim 29: 9-11).

There was a gasp from one of the women. She had never heard it read exactly this way. I asked what surprised her. She said: "It sounded different. It sounded as if I was included.As if I was standing there this day."

And I explained what the translators had done. All of the different groups within the people Israel are referred to in this text with the Hebrew possessive ending -chem, which is a masculine, plural possessive. So the literal translation of the Hebrew would be "your tribal heads, your elders...your children, your women..." After pointing out the change, which is explained in the commentary, I asked the women to discuss it. How does it change our understanding of the meaning? Is it valid?

There was much discussion. "It changes the meaning." "The translator interpreted..." "All translation is interpretation." And so forth. With some guidance from me, the guide on the side, and the commentary in the text, we got to the place of discussing the meaning the possessive "your" in the context of the community of Israel. What does it mean to say "your people" or "your synagogue" or "your rabbi." Does it mean that you literally own those entities, or does it mean that you belong to them? A flash of understanding came to the women then, as one said, "So the translator was really clarifying the meaning of "your" as a belonging to, not an owning of!"

"Yes. Translation is always interpretation," I told them. But here, the translator did indeed clarify one received understanding of the text, by replacing the word "your" with the word "you." There was more discussion of how that change made some of the women realize, for the first time, that they, as women, were included in the Covenant, that they, too, were 'standing at Sinai.' So we moved from peshat to remez to derash, and perhaps, since some of us received a new understanding, a new revelation, to sod.

And in the discussion, I heard the Torah of these women. I will never forget the words of one of them: "It is important that the translator did this, because when I hear "your tribal heads, and your elders," I think of them as men who belong to the community of Israel; but when I hear "your women," I think of the women as belonging to the men, because that is how we learned to think. But when I heard "you women," I saw myself actively accepting Torah, actively standing at Sinai."

And I could only say: Yashrah koach! May your strength be straight! Hazak, hazak v'nit'hazek, achoti! May you go from strength to strength, oh my sister!

In this sharing, as Jewish women studying together, we brought forth Torah. We were being Torah.

Just Thinking about Inclusion and Ideology

"I've been thinking," I said, as we settled into our steamy-hot, pre-Shabbat bath yesterday afternoon.

Generally, my husband Bruce gets a worried look on his face when I say this, fearing that my "thinking" is going to lead to some new and money-intensive rennovation for the house.
But this time, my thinking has to do with the focus or theme of this new semester in my doctoral program. Each semester seems to provoke a particular line of thinking in my mind, and seems to develop its own theme, as I place what I am learning into perspective with what I already know.

For my Trends and Issues in Special Education, I had just read an article by Kauffman that dealt with the inclusion movement and the (pick one) demise, repair, conversion, or reincarnation of the field of special education. And it got me thinking.

And, as I consider what kind of perspective I will bring as a graduate student in my Child Psychopathology class, I started thinking about the individuality, identity and gifts of neurodiverse people that we usually define by pathology such as those with Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD), Bipolar Disorder, Attention Disorders and others like this, that are essentially defined by differences in the structure and function of the brain. Thinking is added onto thinking!

The confluence of these two streams of thought seems to be coming down to some ideas I have about how in our thinking about education, we are narrowing what we consider to be normal and justifying that by wrapping ourselves in the mantle of "diversity." I was struck by the thought that what is happening in the field of Special Education with regard to inclusion seems to be particularly illustrative of what is happening in our society at large when it comes to dealing with differences. I am certainly not done with thinking about this, but I do have some ideas about what I think is happening. And I think that the concept of inclusion has moved from being one aspect of the continuum of services for special education to being an ideology of almost religious proportions in the minds of its most extreme advocates.

As originally outlined, inclusion meant that along the continuum of special education services, it was sensible to place the student with disabilities in the general education environment as much as possible. This meant that, for example, a student with severe and multiple disabilities, who might need full-day placement in a small classroom with a specialty teacher, should also have recess and lunch within the larger population of the school. But as the idea has evolved, inclusion has for some become about dismantling the continuum of services entirely, and advocating the full-time placement of all special education students in the general education classroom. To the inclusion ideologue, to provide any services in a separate setting is defined as segregation, and the argument is that separate is always inherently unequal. If those words--separate is unequal--sound familiar, they come for the landmark United States Supreme Court Case, Brown v. the Board of Education, which was the school desegregation decision.

It sounds very egalitarian. All children should, they say, have the same educational experience, in the general education classroom, and all necessary services to children with disabilities should be delivered in the general education classroom. This idea is justified by the argument that disabilities aren't really disabilities, and that all of us are fundamentally the same, really, and have the same needs. But when this concept of inclusion is married with the standards movement, which insists that every child should be making exactly the same achievements at the same age, we come to the absurd conclusion that we can mandate equal educational outcomes for all. This is clearly different from the notion that Brown v. Board was intended to ensure equal educational opportunity for all. (This last has problems of its own, and you can read a perspective of what they are here).

And what is really quite interesting--at least to me--is that all of this insisting that everyone is the same is being done in the name of diversity. It makes me wonder if the people who wrap themselves most tightly in the mantle of the diversity movement are the same people who are most afraid of acknowledging that there are real differences among human beings. (For more of my thoughts about this, you can go here).

And so, I am thinking.

I am thinking that it is very interesting that those who cry out the loudest about their respect for diversity, actually want to treat every person as if he or she is exactly the same as every other person. As Thomas Jefferson said, " Remember, first that the greatest inequality is to treat unequal things equally..." (Thomas Jefferson to James Madison, December 20, 1787).

I am thinking that it is very interesting that the ideology of "no difference" in education arises just as the sciences of neurobiology and genetics are demonstrating the fundamental physical nature of differences among human beings in the brain as well as the body.

I am thinking that a denial of differences among people is a denial of individuality, which is defined by differences. And that if there is no individuality, then it could be argued that there is no need for individual rights. This kind of thinking could lead to a conception of group rights, a kind of fascism or collectivism that strikes at the very heart of the American ideal of individual rights inherent to each person.

I am thinking that it is also very interesting that this denial of individual differences comes at the same time that "Aspies" and other neurodiverse people are finding their own voices. They are declaring that they have their own cultures and their own appreciation of who they are--that their neuro-atypicality is part of their identity; that they don't want to be cured of it, that they like their differences. (See, for example, Daniel Tammet's book, Born on a Blue Day, or Susanne Antonetta's book, A Mind Apart: Travels in a Neurodiverse World. Or go to Aspies for Freedom, a website devoted to these ideas).

Somehow, all of this thinking is going to come together and gel with another train of thought, about what I call the narrowing of normal--which I have yet to write about--and I don't know yet what kinds of conclusions I am going to reach, and how they will affect my direction in my doctoral program.

Right now I am...just thinking.