Gobsmacked

The Goldfinch
by Donna Tartt
Little, Brown and Company, 2013

We have art in order not to die from the truth. 

-Nietzsche

This book. It's why I do what I do. So that someday, maybe sooner, maybe later, every child in the wake of my teaching will come across at least one book that knocks them backward, sits them down hard. Changes the way they see the world.

I read this book through my ears. It's a huge book; we've been together through months of trips back and forth to school, and walks light enough to wear earbuds, and housework menial enough to listen while I worked.

It's not an easy book to read. Donna Tartt doesn't make anything easy for Theo for very long at all. But it's a beautiful book. Long passages were poetry -- love songs to antiques, cities, seasons, art, life.

Yesterday when I woke up, I had about two hours left to listen to, and (you know the feeling) there was nothing else I could do but listen. I took my early morning walk as laps around the basement so that I could listen. I listened while I ate breakfast. I listened while I made my lunch. I listened in the car on the way to school. I listened while I got the classroom ready for the day, before I went to my meeting.

After my students finished their word study task, one after another picked up a book and started to read. By the time I should have done the reading workshop mini lesson, the room was silent. That Kind of Silent. Spring in Fifth Grade Silent. This is a Community of Readers Silent.

I had 15 minutes left in the book. What else could I do? I grabbed my earphones and joined my community of readers. I finished the book, brushing away tears.

And what will I do next? I will buy a copy of the physical book, because it's one I want to hold in my hands and shelve next to the other landmark books of my adulthood. I want to read those last pages again. And find other favorite parts and savor them and sticky-note them.

And then? No, I won't be able to start another audiobook for awhile. I'll listen to Arvo Pärt on the drive to and from school, because Pippa listened to his music. I'll think about art and love and loss and chance and fate and right and wrong.

And I'll think about how lives are changed by the power of beauty in great art and in great books.

Going Public

Wikimedia Commons photo by Justin Brockie

Raise your hand if you've ever been terrified to go public -- to introduce him to your parents, to speak in public, to start a blog?

And yet how often do we expect our students to share their ideas, try new things, or take a risk, all without fear or hesitation?

I have given myself a taste of my own medicine, and it's been good to remember how hard it is to do the things we ask our students to do all the time.

One of the gardeners I work with in our community garden is deaf. She had her hearing long enough to learn to speak, but she's never learned lip reading. So we've been getting by with her talking to us, and us writing to her. It's a functional solution, but not equitable, and definitely not inclusive.

I decided to learn to finger spell. Of course, "there's an app for that." I've been trying to spend a few minutes every day practicing with the app, and sometimes on my morning walk, I run through the alphabet or spell things I see.

But I was terrified to try it with my deaf friend. To be the rank beginner at the feet of the expert.

Finally, this past weekend, I jumped the hurdle. I told her I was learning. Her smile glowed and crinkles showed in the corners of her eyes. I asked for her patience as I got better. She nodded enthusiastically.

And that's all it took. I just had to get past my fear of failing and give it a try. She is thrilled that I am making an attempt to communicate with her on her terms, and she is patient, encouraging and helpful.

Just like we are with our students.