After a short History Channel documentary about Juan Ponce de Leon, and learning all the inaccuracies of my 8th Grade Social Studies class, I wonder just how many other facts passed on to students by teachers and textbooks just aren't quite factual. Like dumbing down photosynthesis until it really isn't correctly described, or how we don't really subtract, we add with negative numbers. As a substitute teacher, I ran across several examples where simplification runs that fine line between truth and fallacy. But is there any other way? We can't exactly teach O-Chem to 10-year-olds.
To top it all off, Texas school boards are pushing toward a "conservative" history that makes a euphemism of slavery and what all. Don't even get me started on Creationism. And being so big and numerous, and in proximity to publishers, Texas schools have a big say in what national publishers publish. Scary.
This is what happens when we take history out of the able hands of historians and science away from the scientists.
Deborah Lindsay, at First Community Church, made a superb plea for tolerance and peace that is now all over the internet. And one point she made is valid here: it is not right to exalt one faith above all others at the expense of others. Here I would argue to include "at the expense of education." Support your faith, yes, but make it govern a whole society? Nope. That's theocracy, not democracy. Ben and Tom would hate that. (And here I mean Franklin and Jefferson, two founding fathers).
My latest task is to outline a chart for my dad making explicit the education and background of the founding fathers that Tea Partiers and Conservatives alike so love to invoke. I find it funny that the same FoxNews blondes who mock Cambridge, Massachusetts, for its educational elite worship founding fathers who are...gasp...Harvard educated.
I'm not so radical that I demand "history" henceforth be called "herstory," like some feminists who have no understanding of etymology, but I do yearn for the day that history is written by objective scholars, not the subjective and partisan few.
23 September 2010
16 September 2010
add some spice
I'm in love...with Market District spices from Giant Eagle. Too bad there aren't any Giant Eagles in my area. On top of the bottles being cute, they are relatively inexpensive. I now have to fight the urge to purge my spice collection for the sake of replacing it with MD spices.
On the other hand, I have to wonder where the MD brand came from. It's a store brand, but unlike the value or Giant Eagle products, it is obviously marketed toward the alternative, foody crowd. Should I be concerned that I am taking part in a marketing scheme? The spices aren't technically organic, and being spices, a lot of them cannot be locally grown. So what is the benefit?
Cute bottles.
They also have a variety of white teas. Yay.
On the other hand, I have to wonder where the MD brand came from. It's a store brand, but unlike the value or Giant Eagle products, it is obviously marketed toward the alternative, foody crowd. Should I be concerned that I am taking part in a marketing scheme? The spices aren't technically organic, and being spices, a lot of them cannot be locally grown. So what is the benefit?
Cute bottles.
They also have a variety of white teas. Yay.
01 September 2010
animal welfare
Part of wrapping up my time at the museum is finishing the book I borrowed from my coworker: The Omnivore's Dilemma. After hearing about it, and considering who I borrowed it from, I was worried it would be a vegan manifesto. Hardly. Well, I'm sure some people have interpreted it that way, which is a shame. It's a well-thought, well-written collection of essays, really, with anthropological, ecological and political significance.
The author, Mr. Pollan, really dug in deep to figure out where his food comes from. I don't see how anyone could truely look at that complicated web of resources without some journalistic integrity and objectivity. Sprinkled in, though, there were some subjective moments that bothered me. It's his book, his prerogative. But I don't think, even on large corporate farms, that dairy cattle are "tethered" to machines 24/7. The milking process takes only minutes. Of course, the farm I grew up on is wildly different from the larger farms of today. Maybe there are some who keep the cows tied to the milkers...though I can think of no reason other than corporate ignorance. It bothered me because it's a long-standing misconception that the author only hinted at in a brief phrase. Dairy was not part of the larger discussion, like meat was. Placating me was his assertive conclusion that there are "good farms," mostly family-owned, which I can only hope include my family's. He spent a lot of time with farmers, discussing the market, subsidies, and their work in general. He concludes that consumers need to know their farmers and producers. Righto.
I'm not sure how much time he spent with sheep, though, since he wrote about a ewe's "udders." Another misconception, like the "only bulls have horns" thing. If you have one ewe or one cow, you have one udder. Not plural. What is plural are the teats on the udder. It may seem trivial to some, but it's yet another example of the public's lack of knowledge. And in some cases, their lack of desire to unlearn these silly things and listen to someone who knows.
The "udders" came along in the discussion of animal rights. He was refreshingly honest and rational about it all. Weighing pros and cons, responding step-by-step to a major animal rights writer's arguments. These arguments were read, apparently, while Pollan enjoyed a steak. Nice. He tried vegetarian. Also nice. What I found the most enlightening was his conclusion that those who do not eat meat or animal products are in some ways even more disconnected from nature than the majority of the population that forages in the supermarket. 1. There's biology. The shape of our teeth, the movement of our jaws, and the ability of our digestive systems to process protein found only in meat. 2. There's ecology. The benefit of eating rumenants like cows and sheep that process the main energy sources of certain landscapes (i.e. New England) that do not yield vegetables that we can eat. If we were all vegan, we'd have to abandon a large amount of the planet and live in very specific locations. 3. There's morality. Or rather, the clash of it. Some animal rights thinkers go so far as to assert that a lion eating an antelope is evil. Really? Evil? Those particular thinkers are in fact dislocated from a natural order that has governed this planet for millenia. Sure, the lack of raping and pillaging is a plus. But killing, even when all you eat is vegetables, is inevitable.
I was happy to read that my own position is not in conflict with the author's. There's so much more I could type here, like the humor injected into discussions of farmers and debt and family legacy. He supports agriculture, not agribusiness. So amusing and appreciated. I hope there are more people out there who take this book and its discussions not as a source for buzz words like "monoculture" or "organic." If we do make big changes to our food supply, people will suffer, at least financially, and it will require a major cultural shift. So I'll leave it to the big authors to sort it all out.
The author, Mr. Pollan, really dug in deep to figure out where his food comes from. I don't see how anyone could truely look at that complicated web of resources without some journalistic integrity and objectivity. Sprinkled in, though, there were some subjective moments that bothered me. It's his book, his prerogative. But I don't think, even on large corporate farms, that dairy cattle are "tethered" to machines 24/7. The milking process takes only minutes. Of course, the farm I grew up on is wildly different from the larger farms of today. Maybe there are some who keep the cows tied to the milkers...though I can think of no reason other than corporate ignorance. It bothered me because it's a long-standing misconception that the author only hinted at in a brief phrase. Dairy was not part of the larger discussion, like meat was. Placating me was his assertive conclusion that there are "good farms," mostly family-owned, which I can only hope include my family's. He spent a lot of time with farmers, discussing the market, subsidies, and their work in general. He concludes that consumers need to know their farmers and producers. Righto.
I'm not sure how much time he spent with sheep, though, since he wrote about a ewe's "udders." Another misconception, like the "only bulls have horns" thing. If you have one ewe or one cow, you have one udder. Not plural. What is plural are the teats on the udder. It may seem trivial to some, but it's yet another example of the public's lack of knowledge. And in some cases, their lack of desire to unlearn these silly things and listen to someone who knows.
The "udders" came along in the discussion of animal rights. He was refreshingly honest and rational about it all. Weighing pros and cons, responding step-by-step to a major animal rights writer's arguments. These arguments were read, apparently, while Pollan enjoyed a steak. Nice. He tried vegetarian. Also nice. What I found the most enlightening was his conclusion that those who do not eat meat or animal products are in some ways even more disconnected from nature than the majority of the population that forages in the supermarket. 1. There's biology. The shape of our teeth, the movement of our jaws, and the ability of our digestive systems to process protein found only in meat. 2. There's ecology. The benefit of eating rumenants like cows and sheep that process the main energy sources of certain landscapes (i.e. New England) that do not yield vegetables that we can eat. If we were all vegan, we'd have to abandon a large amount of the planet and live in very specific locations. 3. There's morality. Or rather, the clash of it. Some animal rights thinkers go so far as to assert that a lion eating an antelope is evil. Really? Evil? Those particular thinkers are in fact dislocated from a natural order that has governed this planet for millenia. Sure, the lack of raping and pillaging is a plus. But killing, even when all you eat is vegetables, is inevitable.
I was happy to read that my own position is not in conflict with the author's. There's so much more I could type here, like the humor injected into discussions of farmers and debt and family legacy. He supports agriculture, not agribusiness. So amusing and appreciated. I hope there are more people out there who take this book and its discussions not as a source for buzz words like "monoculture" or "organic." If we do make big changes to our food supply, people will suffer, at least financially, and it will require a major cultural shift. So I'll leave it to the big authors to sort it all out.
loose ends
I knew this would happen...I'm mentally balking at the notion of sending my resume to New York places because I feel that New York is out of my league. That's what a year in Ohio does to you.
I really need to bite the bullet and call the places I've already sent to, so at least I'll know they've dragged and dropped my resume into their computer's recycle bin. It really stings. As it did before. And it's harder now to search for jobs, not because there are no openings, but because I feel I am not qualified for the openings. Because I took that worthless internship my second year. Because I'm on academic leave. Because I'm here in Podunk, Ohio. I cannot bring myself to lie or pad my resume. And quite frankly...does it really need padding? What else can I do but write an honest letter and let my skills speak for themselves? A clever turn of phrase, in moderation, maybe, is all I used to need to impress a potential employer.
Sometimes I think I embody the phrase, "Oh, how the Mighty have fallen." It really brings me down to think of all the potential I had in high school. That I still had at OSU. All that promise that now seems wasted. And I know I've written sentences like that before. At least there is still a little voice inside that insists: I have fallen, but I'm still mighty. I just wish I were more impervious to the things that make me feel less intelligent.
I'm wrapping up a "gig" as educator of a small museum with major financial and organizational issues. Have I helped at all? The idea of talking about what I've done with my boss is rather frightening. I think I've helped in such tiny ways that it will all disappear not long after I'm gone. Absorbed by larger problems. Again and again like a litany of shame I describe to the people I run into around town that I'm applying everywhere I possibly can...waiting...licensed for substitute teaching...waiting.
I really need to bite the bullet and call the places I've already sent to, so at least I'll know they've dragged and dropped my resume into their computer's recycle bin. It really stings. As it did before. And it's harder now to search for jobs, not because there are no openings, but because I feel I am not qualified for the openings. Because I took that worthless internship my second year. Because I'm on academic leave. Because I'm here in Podunk, Ohio. I cannot bring myself to lie or pad my resume. And quite frankly...does it really need padding? What else can I do but write an honest letter and let my skills speak for themselves? A clever turn of phrase, in moderation, maybe, is all I used to need to impress a potential employer.
Sometimes I think I embody the phrase, "Oh, how the Mighty have fallen." It really brings me down to think of all the potential I had in high school. That I still had at OSU. All that promise that now seems wasted. And I know I've written sentences like that before. At least there is still a little voice inside that insists: I have fallen, but I'm still mighty. I just wish I were more impervious to the things that make me feel less intelligent.
I'm wrapping up a "gig" as educator of a small museum with major financial and organizational issues. Have I helped at all? The idea of talking about what I've done with my boss is rather frightening. I think I've helped in such tiny ways that it will all disappear not long after I'm gone. Absorbed by larger problems. Again and again like a litany of shame I describe to the people I run into around town that I'm applying everywhere I possibly can...waiting...licensed for substitute teaching...waiting.
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