Reading for Treasure: June is the Start of Summer Reading

Reading for Treasure is my list of articles that are worth your attention. Click here for an introduction!

Summer is an opportunity to pick up good books and read, read, read! June is important for many reasons. Now that I am retired, I love having more time to read all sorts of things. Here is a list of articles about books and reading and a few lists of titles you might want to pick up. 

Should the character or views of an author influence our reading choices? Some of my friends will not read books by certain writers because of these writers’ behavior and political involvement. I must say that The Color Purple was one of those few books I read in one sitting. I was dismayed to learn about the author’s anti-Semitism and even more about how the New Yorker treated it differently than another author’s racism: “What The New Yorker Didn’t Say About a Famous Writer’s Anti-Semitism”

I am so glad that I am not the only person who thinks that giving graduates the Dr. Seuss book, Oh, the Places You’ll Go is problematic. Please take a look at the Chicago Tribune opinion piece, “Time to Turn the Page on Children’s Books as Graduation Gifts.”

Two wonderful pieces about reading from The Atlantic.  We have all had books that stuck with us, moved us, and shaped us. For Lauren LeBlanc, that book was I Never Promised You A Rose Garden by Joanne Greenberg. In her article, “The Book That Said the Words I Couldn’t Say,” Ms. LeBlanc talks about the power of this book and the power of reading. Secondly, here is a snarky fun piece from last summer, “Please Don’t Read at the Beach.” 

I am volunteering with Chicon 8: The 80th World Science Fiction Convention coming to downtown Chicago Labor Day Weekend. So I thought it would be fun to think about books set in Chicago. Better yet, you can use this site, recommended by this Lifehacker article to find books set in any location: “This Site Helps You Find Books Set Where You Live.”

Juneteeth comes in June, so here are two Juneteenth reading lists: one from NewsOne and another from Facing History. 

June is Pride Month. Here is a list of the finalists for the Lambda Literary Awards. CNN provided a useful article for LGBTQ+ reading for younger readers: “A guide to LGBTQ summer reading for kids and teens -- from authors themselves.” 

Two good articles from Lit Hub. First, their choices for summery summer reading: “Our 15 Favorite Summery Novels for Summer Reading” as well as their “The Ultimate Summer 2022 Reading List.”

Of course, we must have some genre summer reads! Here are some recent genre award finalists and winners: 

The shortlist for the Nommo Awards, given annually by the African Speculative Fiction Society

The Nebula Winners from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA): 

The fan’s choice: the Hugo finalists! The winners will be announced at Chicon 8: The World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago! 

The books honored by Locus Magazine: Locus Top Ten Finalists

I am currently rereading Time Enough For Love by Robert Heinlein 

Where are the Guardian Angels?

The shooting at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas is overwhelming. Each time I think about the horrible events of May 24, I find it is so painful that I need to deflect to something else, anything else. The thought of that kind of loss is nearly too difficult to imagine.  

I was teaching the day that Laurie Dann walked into Hubbard Woods Elementary School in Winnetka and began shooting. My school moved to “red alert,” which was designed to prevent senior pranks, when it was reported that the shooter was headed northwest. My school is only a few miles northwest of Hubbard Woods. This was more than thirty years ago. 

There are no words to console a grieving parent or partner. There is no pain I can imagine worse than the death of a child. It is so hideous and powerful and painful. Why must parents keep experiencing loss because of school shootings? 

What is wrong with us that we refuse to protect our children sitting in their classrooms? What is wrong with us that we argue about the rights of children not yet born, but we refuse to protect fourth graders? How can people rush to protect gun rights at the cost of children’s lives?  Anyone who has worked in education knows that putting more guns in school will not address this problem. It is a false fantasy solution that ignores everything we know about these situations. 

Even the National Rifle Association prohibits guns at its convention! Arming teachers will work, but having a convention full of gun owners won’t? I don’t understand. 

Let’s start a new organization: No Retro Abortions. This organization would advocate that we ban abortions beyond the 15-week or 3-month or the latest of late-term timelines and argue that even abortions that take place after birth should be forbidden. The organization could be called by its initials: N.R.A. 

Recently, I read a short story called, “Mr. Death” by Alix Harrow. The story is nominated for the prestigious Hugo award, and.I read the nominees every year so I vote for the winners. 

This fantasy story follows a relatively new “reaper” who ferries souls across the river of death. He is given assignments and then sits with the person as they die and accompanies them to the other side. However, as the story opens, he is given a horrible assignment: a child of only 30 month: a two year old. 

Our focal character has deep misgivings and does his best to rationalize and justify the child’s death. But he can’t. He lost his own child and has experienced this kind of pain first hand. As the story proceeds, he moves from giving the child a little extra time to being unable to complete his assignment. He refuses to complete the assignment even though it will mean much more than losing his job, it will probably mean he will be consigned to oblivion. 

If you are going to read the story, this is the place to stop reading. I am about to spoil it. Read the story and come back or skip to the paragraph beginning, “Lovers of life…” 

Here is the connection: when our reaper refuses to take the child and is willing to sacrifice everything, he is surprised to find that he is transformed. He is no longer a reaper and instead, he is a guardian. He stands beside the child as a  protector. 

Lovers of life, pro-choice, pro-life, we need guardians now. Our children need us all to become angels who protect them: in their classrooms, churches, synagogues, movie theaters, and homes. Not with more instruments of death, but with thoughtful and rational laws and rules. Other countries do this; we can do this. 

Can we transform from partners of death to protectors of life? The Supreme Court will soon rule about how the unborn should be protected. What about the newly born? What about the fourth graders? What about our children and grandchildren? 

Thou shall not murder. Put down your weapon and accept your wings. Protect the children. Please. 

Good Riddence to the 2021-2022 School Year

I dreamed last night that I was visiting my old school on the last day of the year. I dreamed that I was going through offices and classrooms, wishing people well, and meeting new staff members. We joked and hugged and laughed and were all dressed in Halloween costumes. I dreamed that things were just as I left them, but different and better.

But that isn’t the school at which my friends and former co-workers teach. That isn’t the reality of education at the end of the 2021-2022 school year. That was my dream (really), but the truth is that my friends are survivors of a disaster. They end this year with anxiety, anger, frustration, grief, pain, and lots of tears. 

And it shouldn’t be this way. 

Teachers, Counselors, and other school staff are asked to carry it all. They are simultaneously hailed as heroes who will save, protect, and sacrifice for their students with opportunities and weapons and love and knowledge, and then derided as groomers and political opportunists, lazy slackers, and self-serving conspiracy puppets. When it serves the sound bite, they are the saviors of society and when it fits the narrative, they are taking our children into an uncomfortable world of race, gender, and masks. 

And it is too much. 

My colleagues have been carrying the pandemic. Their mantra has been “We’ll make it work,” and “We do what’s best for kids.” They have been performing a high wire acrobatic juggling. Sometimes, their administrators and school boards, and communities have stood by their sides and provided a net. But just as often, those who should be their allies have turned on them and thrown them flaming torches and shaken the tent, threatening to bring the entire circus crashing to the ground in flames and flesh. 

And teachers are exhausted. 

So as the end of the school year approaches, as summer rounds the corner, kids are fidgeting in their seats, and classrooms start to smell of sweat and cut grass, as the looming grading deadlines feel like Kuber-Ross’s stages, let us bid a not so fond goodbye bye to this disaster of a school year. 

Of course, we wish you a relaxing and rejuvenating summer, time with your family, and time to yourself. We wish you health, which has been Sisyphean these past two years.

And we thank you. 

I am not sure I know how to do this. As a retired teacher who left just before the sky fell, I can only half imagine what these years have felt like. For the first time, I have heard several school friends say to me, "I hate working here." As a supporter on the side, I have seen the disrespect and destruction, heard the yelling, and unbelievable thoughtlessness. Alice had it far easier. I felt both guilty that it was you and relief that it wasn’t me and anguish it was happening. People say to me every day – every.single.day – that I “got out at the right time.” I wish you could join me. Right now. 

And we should be concerned that you will. 

Teachers are leaving in droves. They watch their friends and colleagues of decades marching toward the cliff’s edge and feel the pull of gravity. Wonderful, inspiring, passionate professionals are packing their classrooms for the last time right now. As the lockers slam and the sneakers squeak down the hall, they are crying with relief and shame. Accountants are not asked to kill themselves for taxes, but sometimes healthcare folks are. 

And our teachers. 

This is not an exaggeration. I have heard a call for a student strike in the fall. What if students said, “We aren’t going back to our classrooms until it we are safe from gun terrorists.” What if parents said that?  What if teachers, across this nation, said, we will not conduct another active shooter drill until lawmakers stop the senseless stream of school shootings! 

So hear me clearly. Hear it from a retired veteran teacher: Teachers, you have been outstanding. You have made critical differences in children’s lives. You have nurtured, challenged, enriched, advocated – and educated. You have fought the good fight – over and over and over and over. What you have done matters and will continue to matter, even if you are no longer doing it. 

And now it is your time. 

Some of you will return to the classroom in the fall. Some of you will retire. Some of you will watch the stream of buses and kids with backpacks and step out of the line. Some of you will place your own children at the front and focus there. 

And that is okay.

The last bell is ringing. It brings relief and intense sorrow. Set down the load. Rest. Hold yourself and your loved ones. You have been through a war and, although it is not over, we are hoping for a few months of cease-fire. Go to your bunker. Hug your people. Cry. Unload. Recover. 

And this summer – and all that comes after it – do what heals and helps you.