Recap 6: The Lit Review

Writing a lit review is sort of like writing an entry for this recap blogging challenge. First I have to recap sociocultural theories of literacy and then tie that, somehow, into a recap of studies on critical media literacy with urban youth and then tie that, somehow, into a recap of how marginalized people use humor and laughter to mediate experiences of oppression. No problem.

So far I've written this paragraph to frame the chapter:

This chapter discusses the sociocultural views of literacy and identity that ground this study. Interested in the moment-to-moment interactions that produce identities in classrooms, particularly around race, I focus on the work of scholars who have theorized identity as a socially and linguistically mediated construct (Bakhtin, 1981; Gee, 2005; Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain, 1998; Norris, 2011; Scollon, 2001; Wertsch, 1991), ever constrained and shaped within structures of power. I draw as well from the theory of mediated discourse (although I save much of that discussion for the next chapter) and highlight, scholars who focus on the actions and practices of individuals in the formation and solidification of identities. Next, I turn to studies of critical literacy practices in and out of school that reconceive critical literacy and critical media literacy to include embodied forms of response not often recognized in classrooms. The chapter ends with a review of scholarship on laughter and humor where I make the argument that laughter, too, is a form of critical response related to the identities of youth who have been traditionally marginalized.

It's a start.

Also, I've written 20 pages on sociocultural theories of literacy already. Only they aren't that good. I wrote them three years ago when I did my prelims. THREE YEARS AGO! Maybe this means I'm a better writer now? #Silverlining. 

I wonder, is this a recap? 

Recap 5: A Long Day's Journey

We saw Eugene O'Neill's masterwork, A Long Day's Journey Into Night, at the Guthrie last evening. There are four very sad characters in this play. Mary is addicted to morphine while her husband, James, and their two sons, Jamie and Edmund, are addicted to alcohol. The play chronicles Mary's downward spiral into her addiction once again while the three male characters employ whiskey to "cope" with the reality--and history--of their lives. The whole play is wrapped in symbolism and the dialogue is both poetic and heartbreaking.

As an English teacher, I should have loved it. I did not.

It felt like one long argument with an obvious and traumatic trajectory. While I appreciated the play's fine literary elements and the supreme acting skills of the cast, I just kept waiting (and waiting and waiting) for it to be over. A more apt title for a drama (and the experience of viewing it) has never been given.

Recap 4: The Peanut Challenge

Dave is allergic to peanuts and fish. This increases Sam's chance of having some allergy, although not necessarily to the same things. The research on how kids develop allergies is mixed. Some people believe kids should be exposed earlier than later to certain foods while others believe those foods should be withheld. We don't have peanuts or fish in our house, so Sam had neither until yesterday.

At his two-year well-baby visit, our pediatrician recommended Sam get tested for food allergies. That sounded preferable to anaphylaxis in the middle of our regular routine so we made the appointment. The allergy doc, however, informed us that testing before a reaction is actually "controversial" because of the possibility of false positives. But since we were there for the appointment, he went ahead. Sam's skin test showed a reaction to peanuts and cats.

Due to the issue of false positives, the follow-up protocol to a skin reaction is "The Peanut Challenge." (In case you are wondering, there is no such thing as a "Cat Challenge.") We had ours yesterday. It went like this.

Dose 1: Sam takes this one rather easily. We had been talking up peanut butter for days and told him he couldn't have this special treat until his appointment. He is disappointed that the doc won't let him have it on the Ritz cracker as promised but offers a tongue depressor instead. Once the peanut butter is in Sam's mouth, he is like, What the hell is this stuff and why would you make me eat it? I coax him to swallow and we begin the wait for a reaction. Nothing happens.

Dose 2: Fifteen minutes later. The peanut butter on the depressor is double the amount in Dose 1. Sam is not having it. He turns away and seals his lips. We wrestle. I sit him on my lap. He smears the peanut butter on my pants. I am covered in it and understand why they call this a challenge. The doctor promises Sam a sticker. Sam reluctantly opens his mouth and I shove in the brown goo. Sam lets it hang there on his teeth. I keep telling him to chew. He looks at me confused. Finally he swallows. Nothing happens. Sam has a sticker.

Dose 3: I prep Sam for fifteen minutes between doses. This is what will happen, I say. The doctor will give you the peanut butter and you will eat it. You will get another sticker. Sam says, yeah. When the doctor gives him another doubled dose, Sam refuses. He cries. He wrestles away. He is hot and red. I tell him Greysen loves peanut butter and would be so proud if Sam ate it. Sam pauses. He opens his mouth. Takes the peanut butter. Swallows. Nothing happens. Sam has two stickers.

Dose 4: Between doses nurse Julie checks Sam's blood pressure, his pulse, his skin. All is well. They draw pictures on the examining table paper. We chat. The doctor comes in. The dosage now stays the same. It's a full teaspoon of peanut butter. I offer the depressor. Sam seals his lips. The doctor steps out and returns with a Superman sticker. You will not get this until you eat the peanut butter, he says. He has grown impatient. It works. This is not how I want to parent, I think. But whatever. Nothing happens. Sam has three stickers.

Dose 5: We wait a long time for the doctor to arrive. Julie lets Sam listen to his heart beat. I listen too. It's cool. Julie shows Sam how to take his blood pressure. They are friends now. Julie has four boys of her own. That's a lot, I think. We've been here for two hours now. The doc finally arrives. I tell Sam we can go home soon if he eats this one quickly. He does. Relatively. Julie does a dance with him. Nothing happens. Sam has four stickers.

Dose 6: We are ready to go home. The wait is longer than fifteen minutes but not quite as long as before. Sam eats plain Ritz crackers. We read books. The doc comes in. Would you like one more sticker, Sam? he asks. Sam says, two. Hell yeah, I think. You've earned two. The doctor agrees. Sam eats the final dose. He has six stickers. Sam must be observed for another hour before we can leave. Sam and I both have cabin fever. He is silly. I am exhausted. Hey! he yells. Go! he shouts at the door. We read an animal book. He tells me the pig is a cow. The dog says meow. We laugh. Julie smiles.

An hour slowly goes by. Sam does not react. He passes The Peanut Challenge! We paste his stickers to the back of a form letter about sinus infections and take a picture. Julie doesn't want to be in it. We get in the car and drive home. I ask Sam if he'd like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He says, no.

Recap 3: The Weekend

I'm up early to write. Despite good intentions of writing a page here and there over the weekend, it did not happen. Other things did happen, though. Allow me to recap.

Friday night we hosted book club here. Sam enjoyed demonstrating all of his instruments for the gang. They were, of course, a gracious audience and Sam would have played all night if we had let him. Dave dragged Sam off to bed (kindly) where he cried and cried for his mama. I went up there two or three times to try to get him to go to sleep. It happened eventually, but it was stressful trying to quiet the child and engage in the discussion. Other people covered the finer points of the book and all was well.

On Saturday, we were off early to swimming lessons as usual. Dave and Sam participate and are called Fin Buddies. I sit on the side and read a book or take pictures. On this day, I read the introduction and first chapter of The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois. I've read parts of this book before and quite love it. I might recap part of it later, so please, look forward.

Later in the day we visited Target Optical and picked out a fresh new pair of spectacles for me. They are a bit plain jane, but I do hate to stand out. And after that, we attempted to find a spot for dinner without too much wait but that failed. We got some curried chicken salad at a grocery deli counter. I asked for too much of it (I'm spatially challenged) and had to go back to return half. We ate at home.

On Sunday, we baked banana bread. Sam has become skilled at sifting. He would also like to be in charge of eggs, but we're holding on that one. Later, I went to yoga. It has been at least six months since I've attended a class, and I think it saved my life. I went overboard and purchased a months' worth of unlimited classes.

Later we took Sam and the sled over to our local sledding hill. I was nervous about this and considered bringing his bike helmet. We found a spot on the back side of the hill with some deeper snow and the ride was both thrilling and cautious. Sam smiled and laughed nonstop. His face covered in snot.

Recap 2: The Problem with Praise

Today's ECFE lesson taught me that I am slowly killing my child's self-esteem with an overabundance of empty praise. So. That's a bummer. But the research was quite compelling. Here's an example. In one study, two groups of kids were given the same task. Upon completion of that task, kids in one group were told, "You did well. You must be smart." The kids in the other group were told, "You did well. You must have worked hard." Then kids in both groups were given a more challenging task. The kids in the first group gave up almost immediately while the kids in the second group, whose effort had been noted, kept trying despite the impossibility of the task.

The moral of this study is that I say "good job" to Sam far more often than necessary. And the necessary number, it turns out, is zero. In fact, nine out of ten times when I tell him "good job" (for cleaning up a mess or eating his vegetables) a simple "thank you" will do. And those other times when I want to praise his stack of blocks or the drawing of a "car" that doesn't look like a car, I should praise his effort, describe my reaction, or say nothing at all.

I made a commitment today, right in the middle of class, to remove "good job" from my language. And within thirty minutes, I caught myself telling Sam "good job" for wiping his feet on the rug.

I am a parenting work in progress. I just hope it's not too late to turn his life around.

Recap 1: It's Not Witty

I'm attempting a quick recap of the day because I am, after all, taking part in this challenge. There was so much to accomplish today that I made a Sunday to-do list. Generally, I'm against making those kinds of lists on a Sunday, but it had to be done.

First. The laundry. Is it weird that I rather like doing the laundry? Probably. It's just one of those things where progress is visible and tangible. It's probably even more weird that I added it to my list. But I did.

Second. Groceries. I flipped through the cooking magazines and came up with five entrees. One for each day of the week. Jotted those ingredients on the paper. There was a bit of a snag trying to figure out who would tend the child while I ran to the store and Dave embarked on his planning for an epic course he's teaching this week, but then we remembered the grandparents. Dropped Sam off over there and we were on our way. Dave joined me at the store and we knocked down the list in 30 minutes. I forgot my rewards card, and that was annoying, but otherwise it was a successful trip. We will eat this week.

Third. Return an overdue book. I've been charged a dollar for each day this book is overdue. That makes $4.00.

Fourth. Shovel. This one wasn't on the list, but I did it anyway. The snow was heavy, and I broke a sweat. I counted it as exercise.

Fifth. Complete revisions to an article due today. This one took some time. I just finished it now. I can't tell if I've done enough. It will have to do.

Lumpy Clusters of Spongy Tissue

We were told yesterday that Sam needs to have his adenoids removed. They are exceptionally large. They also make him snore a lot (even when he's awake) and cause him to breathe through his mouth. They do not, however, affect the quality of his sleep or his consumption of food.

I'm wondering, then, is this just one of those cases where doctors in the U.S. jump to surgery as an option when a bit of inconvenience will do? It's hard to say, and Sam certainly doesn't know how to tell me what a bother the large adenoids might actually be.

And on the other hand, it's a hugely common procedure with an easy-ish recovery. We could just have them out lickety split. He'd probably never miss them.

But why put him through an invasive procedure when he might, at six or seven, have enough space in his head for his ginormous adenoids?

I just don't know. This, right here, is a dilemma.

Tally Ho

Things are carrying along as usual here. I'm writing most days. Getting closer to the goal and still always feeling like it's too far away. Sam was sick again last week. And by that I mean five whole days. We're getting pretty good at managing his many illnesses, but it shuts things down for a good while. Dave is working overnights taking care of other sick people and his days are filled with developing interesting new methods for patient care. With all this going on it's been difficult to maintain an exercise routine. But I declare here and now, I will make this a priority. We have a pretty run down treadmill in the basement, and it's going to have to do. If only I could learn to love running again everything else would just fall into place. Maybe. It's worth a shot.