Michael is trying to set up a Vinyasa yoga studio nearby. Baby Lucia and Mamma Sofia show their respects to Laksmi, Goddess of Domestic Harmony.
Andrew does his best to be a good big cousin to Phebe, who is in a less staid moment.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Southampton, Mass
I'm in Southampton, MA helping my sister with her twin baby girls. Andrew is with me. Wow, it's a lot of work. It's hot here too, but beautiful. For some reason they have no ice cubes. I'm exhausted.
Michael is trying to set up a Vinyasa yoga studio nearby. Baby Lucia and Mamma Sofia show their respects to Laksmi, Goddess of Domestic Harmony.
Andrew does his best to be a good big cousin to Phebe, who is in a less staid moment.
Michael is trying to set up a Vinyasa yoga studio nearby. Baby Lucia and Mamma Sofia show their respects to Laksmi, Goddess of Domestic Harmony.
Andrew does his best to be a good big cousin to Phebe, who is in a less staid moment.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Beauty is Truth
Working summer school is sad. So many of the children are learning disabled, retarded or neglected and angry. Sure, plenty are there just for remedial learning or babysitting, but enough are so severely challenged as to make me wonder how they will be able to function independently in the world. Perhaps I'm being melodramatic. Yes, there are at least twenty who are retarded enough that they probably couldn't even work at McDonald's. The rest will most likely be able to hold down some sort of service or construction-type position. I worry about these kids who cannot concentrate, who can't sit still. Not all are cut out for digging trenches or answering telephones in pretty dresses. The beautiful young man at Safeway who bags your groceries - is he drug damaged or naturally demented? More often they have Down's Syndrome or other, likewise more marked indications of idiocy.
"There but for the grace of God go I." Christopher Hitchens quotes this chestnut in his recent book, "God is not Great" and adds that what we often mean when we think this is, "There but for the grace of God goes someone else", with a sigh of internal relief. That's not so true for me. I always feel on the brink of potential disaster and am ever amazed at my luck - so far. Loving my children as I do is frightening. If one of them were to become an idiot I am sure I would develop a deeper sense of his soul, of the mind beyond the intellect, a sense I really already have, but which I have not been forced to face as acutely as I might.
One of my favorite books of all time, Dostoevsky's "The Idiot", revolves around a man whose mental functioning is sporadically impaired by epilepsy. In spite of (or perhaps to some degree because of) this, his sense of compassion is heightened and he is a model of kindness and human understanding. While he may be perceived as an idiot in one sense, he is genius of the soul. Interestingly, the only epileptic person I currently know is an embittered misanthrope who is so paranoid that he will not allow his son to do anything outside of parental purview. I feel sorry for this man, and his son. Another example of a lopsided soul would be Geneva's beau, an engineering genius with no apparent compassion for anyone. He is so deluded, drug damaged and wrong-headed in his solipsistic morality that I cannot even feel sorry for him. But he is the inspiration for another undertaking altogether.
One of the little boys I was working with this morning could not for the life of him figure out very basic math facts like 2 + 2 = 4, something very simple for most children his age. I sat by him, patiently trying to show him how to figure out simple sums on his own. Sadly, he simply could not grasp the abstraction. He did grasp my facial expressions though, and smiled in response to my smiles, guessed sweetly in response to my prodding. When we figured out a problem he showed pleasure.
There are some children who are the opposite, but few are in summer school. The autistic child I taught a couple of years ago was very good at math for his age and could pick up on patterns at the drop of a hat. He even saw patterns where others did not, to the point that it created paranoia. Unlike the child who could not do math, this child could not read emotions. Attempts at emotional engagement were more often than not met with blank stares or worse, frightened hostility.
Sometimes I understand why people rely on religion to feel better about what is sad and difficult. There are predicaments that are simply tragic, but that cannot be relegated to the domain of the demonic, even though once they might have been. It is arguably worse to have an evil child than an idiot child, although the evil child will probably be able to fend for himself in some manner or another. The child who cannot learn, and who will not be able to fend for himself as an adult, may be able to still help in the home, depending on the degree of disability. But this is all anxious speculation.
There is a touching beauty in many of the "special" education children, and even adults. At the risk of waxing maudlin, I'll end it here since I believe I've made my point.
"There but for the grace of God go I." Christopher Hitchens quotes this chestnut in his recent book, "God is not Great" and adds that what we often mean when we think this is, "There but for the grace of God goes someone else", with a sigh of internal relief. That's not so true for me. I always feel on the brink of potential disaster and am ever amazed at my luck - so far. Loving my children as I do is frightening. If one of them were to become an idiot I am sure I would develop a deeper sense of his soul, of the mind beyond the intellect, a sense I really already have, but which I have not been forced to face as acutely as I might.
One of my favorite books of all time, Dostoevsky's "The Idiot", revolves around a man whose mental functioning is sporadically impaired by epilepsy. In spite of (or perhaps to some degree because of) this, his sense of compassion is heightened and he is a model of kindness and human understanding. While he may be perceived as an idiot in one sense, he is genius of the soul. Interestingly, the only epileptic person I currently know is an embittered misanthrope who is so paranoid that he will not allow his son to do anything outside of parental purview. I feel sorry for this man, and his son. Another example of a lopsided soul would be Geneva's beau, an engineering genius with no apparent compassion for anyone. He is so deluded, drug damaged and wrong-headed in his solipsistic morality that I cannot even feel sorry for him. But he is the inspiration for another undertaking altogether.
One of the little boys I was working with this morning could not for the life of him figure out very basic math facts like 2 + 2 = 4, something very simple for most children his age. I sat by him, patiently trying to show him how to figure out simple sums on his own. Sadly, he simply could not grasp the abstraction. He did grasp my facial expressions though, and smiled in response to my smiles, guessed sweetly in response to my prodding. When we figured out a problem he showed pleasure.
There are some children who are the opposite, but few are in summer school. The autistic child I taught a couple of years ago was very good at math for his age and could pick up on patterns at the drop of a hat. He even saw patterns where others did not, to the point that it created paranoia. Unlike the child who could not do math, this child could not read emotions. Attempts at emotional engagement were more often than not met with blank stares or worse, frightened hostility.
Sometimes I understand why people rely on religion to feel better about what is sad and difficult. There are predicaments that are simply tragic, but that cannot be relegated to the domain of the demonic, even though once they might have been. It is arguably worse to have an evil child than an idiot child, although the evil child will probably be able to fend for himself in some manner or another. The child who cannot learn, and who will not be able to fend for himself as an adult, may be able to still help in the home, depending on the degree of disability. But this is all anxious speculation.
There is a touching beauty in many of the "special" education children, and even adults. At the risk of waxing maudlin, I'll end it here since I believe I've made my point.
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