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. 

My Last Graduates

Have you ever visited your old school and found the students seem young, much younger than they appeared when you were there? And you didn’t know any of them. You might know only a few staff members. The place feels familiar but smaller and it doesn’t perfectly match up with your memories. It is a strange experience. 

I taught at Deerfield High School for thirty-three years and retired three years ago. Between COVID and school changes, the years since my retirement have been particularly dramatic for the school. There has been a lot of change and upheaval. I have remained in touch with many of my former coworkers and students. I have attended events at the school. It does not feel foreign – yet. 

Except for one very important change: my final freshmen are graduating seniors. Next year, I will no longer have any former students in the building. When I go to a play, concert, or sporting event, I will not know any of the kids. I will know some of the teachers, but more and more of them are retiring or leaving. 

By its definition, high school graduation is a one-time experience –for students. This year is my thirty-sixth Deerfield graduation - and my final one. Next year, none of the graduates will have studied with me. 

As my last class graduates, they will be spread across the country and the world. Teachers know this; our hearts leave with our students. Most, we will never see again. A few will keep in touch. A few we will bump into around town (and we’ll hope to remember their names). But this is the last time my students will be together. I share their moment of change; their transition. 

I wish them well. They are moving into a much more challenging world than their parents and teachers. However, they have endured lockdown and active shooter drills, masked classrooms, virtual classes, and countless educational fads and initiatives. They are facile with technology and social media. They hold the entirety of human knowledge in their hands literally and sometimes need to stop looking at it. 

There is nothing they cannot do. As their teacher, I happily put my fate in their hands. I have great faith that they will meet the future with creativity, compassion, resourcefulness, and determination. The future of our world rests with them – as it should. 

Congratulations, Class of 2022. Thank you for our year together  - and for all you will do in the future! 

Reading For Treasure: We Need to Keep Talking and Reading About Racism, Roe, CRT, and Hate

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

The news overflows with horrible stories of racism, sexism, and other forms of hate. Here is a small selection of articles and videos to further your understanding of these critical issues. 

Imbolo Mbue writes in The Atlantic about the recent biography of George Floyd. Neither he nor the writers of the biography shy away from a nuanced and complex picture of Floyd – and that picture is also one of our America:  “The America that Killed George Floyd.” 

The overturning of Roe v. Wade puts several other rights in jeopardy. This article from Blavity outlines how this Supreme Court decision could open the door to eliminating other rights: “5 Other Rights That Could Be Struck Down If Roe V. Wade Is Overturned”

Alexis McGill is the president and CEO of Planned Parenthood. She writes in the New York Amsterdam News that “The end of Roe and what it would mean for the Black community.”

Two pieces that focus on Critical Race Theory: Lifehacker provides a clear piece on “What Critical Race Theory Actually Means (And What It Doesn’t).”

John Oliver discusses Critical Race Theory on this episode of Last Week Tonight.

How do we prevent white children from becoming white nationalists? My former colleague provides teachers, parents, counselors, and coaches with information about “Inoculating Our Students Against White Nationalism — Teaching While White.”

Finally, the Associated Press published this article, “Explainer: Theory of White Replacement Fuels Racist Attacks” which provides a background to the ideas that are motivating terrorist attacks by white nationalists. 

I am currently reading Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel.

Twenty One‘derful Years of Sunday School

I am retiring – again. I have been teaching Confirmation Class on Sunday mornings for twenty-one years. When we started the congregation in 2001, we wanted to be a full-service congregation; that meant a religious school, so I volunteered to teach Confirmation Class. 

We began with the curriculum from our prior congregation. It focused on comparative Judaism and comparative religion. I started with the continuum of Judaism. I took kids to Shabbat services at reform, conservative, reconstructing, and orthodox synagogues –and asked them to come to one of our Friday night services. Of course, high school students (and their parents) have many other things happening on Friday nights or Saturday mornings. And many students had been going to their friends’ mitzvahs at the very same congregations we were visiting. We had some very interesting conversations. 

I told students to dress nicely for these visits as they would for a B Mitzvah. When we visited a conservative synagogue for a Friday night service, one of my students arrived in a very short skirt and a bare midriff. I took off my coat as I saw her come into the sanctuary and said to her, “Put this on, you must be freezing!” I learned to be much more clear about my dress expectations. 

We also studied world religions and visited a Catholic Church and a nearby mosque. Through these seven field trips, the connections between all the religions were increasingly clear to the kids and me – and we were exhausted. It was too many field trips! 

In the third year, I decided to do a little of each: we studied some comparative Judaism and some comparative religion. I organized the years around the structures of the religions – and scheduled all field trips on Sunday mornings! One year, we went to an Orthodox Jewish shul, the Catholic church nearby, an Evangelical megachurch, the local mosque, and a Hindu mandir. The other year, we went to the Unitarian church, a United Church of Christ church, the Buddhist temple, the Bahai House of Worship, and a “classical reform” Jewish congregation that still had Sunday morning services. Five field trips a year was much more reasonable. 

And now, ninety-one kids, eighty-four field trips, and 470 class sessions later, I am handing Confirmation Class over to another teacher. Although I still love learning with students, the structure of Sunday mornings has become too restrictive. Both of my adult(ish) children live and work out of town. If I visit them, our time together must be on weekends. It is too hard to find ways to travel to see my kids and be back on Sunday mornings – and I feel way too guilty missing class. 

It has been a fantastic twenty-one years. I have learned with outstanding students. I have worked with fantastic colleagues and parents. I have talked with remarkable clergy. It has been joyous! 

In the beginning, my own children came to Sunday school with me. They would help set up my classroom and then run off to their own. We rejoined each other for the last half-hour, when the entire school gathered to sing. My parents would come to these music sessions, as would the parents (and often grandparents) of many of the students. It was a gathering of the congregation and a highlight of my week. 

I knew almost all of the families well. Once, as class came to an end, I joked with a student, telling him, “I’m going to tell your parents about this.” He looked at me and replied, “I’m going to tell your parents!” What a beautiful thing that he could! 

Every time we would study a religion or visit a different house of worship, I would learn with the kids. The first time we drove up to the huge megachurch, one of my students leaned over and said, “Oh, Mr. Hirsch, you’ve made a mistake. This is a mall!” Nope. It was a church – and it was bigger than a mall. 

I loved the moment that we drove through the gate at the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir in Bartlet. I showed the kids photos. We had read about Hinduism. But nothing could adequately prepare them for the first sight of that magnificent structure. The collective gasp as we arrived more than made up for the long journey to get there. 

There have been challenging and memorable moments, too: the student who asked our host at the megachurch, “So, are we all going to hell?” The time a guide compared homosexuality to heroin addiction and my students were so flabbergasted that they literally began to move toward her. The pastor who was so approachable that one of my students whispered to me, “These are the coolest Christians I have ever met.” The charming and affable host at the mosque who just didn’t sit down, so we had our half-hour discussion standing (and swaying) on our feet. The host who thought, since he had grown up Jewish, that he was knowledgeable about our religion and made assumptions that were increasingly uncomfortable. The wonderful shofar-making activity at the orthodox shul – and the stuffed goat, and bumping into friends and neighbors at the Catholic church. 

One big issue we discussed a great deal is god. It is a very popular and important topic. We explore different ideas about god and different ways to conceptualize theism. I even show the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, “Who Watches The Watchers” to help us articulate questions and answers about the concept of an anthropomorphic god. 

We didn’t study religion purely academically. The point was to think critically about our own beliefs. We learned about how others answered important religious questions so that we could explore them ourselves. We wrestled with moral dilemmas, talked about what it meant to proselytize, and discussed the line between belief and behavior. The test of belief is how it shows up in our daily lives. How do we walk our talk? How do our beliefs shape our identities and decisions? 

At the conclusion of the two-year class, students get a chance to talk about what they believe. At our confirmation service, they focus on one part of their journey they want to share. Some students talk about god. Some talk about different views of Judaism. Other students focus on some of the questions we asked on our field trips, ethical issues, or their own stories. One young woman started out by telling us that, to her, her mother was god. A young man described his ethical code simply by saying he did his best to “not be an asshole.” Another explored the difference between confirming and conforming. Students sometimes challenged or questioned things they had learned. They wrestled with the concept of what makes something a religion. They described how they navigated conversations about religion with their friends. Year after year, their reflections made me think about my own philosophy and how I could better guide the next group of students. 

It has been a privilege to learn at Kol Hadash’s Sunday School. It has been an honor to study with these students, teachers, and parents. I often said that I am the lucky teacher at the end of the line. I benefited from all the magnificent learning that happened in the classes before Confirmation. From our youngest students learning songs and holidays to studying lifecycle events, heroes, Israel, and wrestling with the Holocaust, students are well prepared for Confirmation Class. I can’t take credit for their brilliance. They have been primed by their families and their earlier classes. I am very proud of them when they stand before the congregation and share their wisdom. 

I am grateful to students with whom I have learned – and their families. Their commitment to Jewish learning is inspiring. I am grateful for the incredible teachers and education directors with whom I have worked – and our outstanding rabbi. For the last three years, I have co-taught Confirmation Class with a teacher who is one of the most able, empathetic, and perceptive educators I have ever met. She will take over Confirmation Class next year. It will be a big upgrade. 

I am only retiring from teaching. I am still very involved in our congregation. I chair our fundraising committee, sing in the choir, and do a variety of other tasks. And if someone needs some help on Sunday morning, I am happy to assist. I live next door, after all.  

When I was a young child, my parents never expected to find a congregation at which they would feel comfortable. When they found Humanistic Judaism, it matched their philosophy and the way they lived their lives. There are so many families like us out there. It gives me such nachas that our congregation and school continues to be a warm and welcoming place for anyone who wants to confirm that Judaism can be celebrated culturally, secularly, non-theistically, and joyfully! 

Return to the Comic Cons: Cons Run By Fans and Cons Run For Profit

I attend science fiction fan conventions. Since I was in high school, I have loved their community, conversation, and connection. The first conventions I attended were not-for-profit events run by fans. The folks organizing these conventions were doing it for the love of fandom. 

These conventions featured panel discussions, film, video, and game rooms, music events, art shows, dealers' rooms, con suites (to eat and talk), and countless other planned and unplanned fun. They were immersive all day (and much of the night) experiences. The featured guests at these conventions were usually writers, artists, and, in the early days, movie and television creators and stars. Even when I attended alone, I was pulled into parties, conversations, and made friends I still see at cons today. 

In the eighties, soon after the premiere of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I attended some conventions run by companies for profit. These conventions were different than the fan cons. Initially, these pro conventions only had two spaces: a main stage and a shopping mall. Sometimes, there were exhibit spaces as well. The guests at these conventions were almost exclusively movie and television stars and creators. 

Over the years, I had seen all of the original Star Trek series cast and many from the other series at a fan-run convention in St. Louis called Space Trek. However, as the pro cons grew, they became the primary or only way to see the on-screen (or screen-related) celebrities. 

At these pro run cons, I often felt like a commodity. These for-profit conventions were shows. I found a seat in a big main stage room and stayed there most of the day. Many of the presentations felt like commercials. I felt like the Ferengi had taken over the con business. 

To be fair, a few of the fan-run conventions focused far more on literary science fiction than television, movies, or comic books – sometimes with a problematic attitude. I remember a person at a panel sneering, “Haven’t you ever read Left Hand of Darkness?” But this was not true at all fan cons; each one had a unique personality. 

I was introduced to science fiction through short stories and novels and I have always been a reader. I am also an enthusiastic fan of genre television shows and movies. There are fan conventions that catered to all of these interests, even if some had a higher-brow tone. But the pro conventions focused on comic books and media (and related products). The fan cons focused on what the fans who organized and attended them wanted: some were more literary, some were more media-focused, and some included anime, comic books, music, art, and more. 

In the 90s, I was immersed in my career and family, so spending the entire weekend at a convention was impractical. Sometimes, spending a Saturday was a luxury.  I did my best to go to the two local fan-run conventions, Windycon and Capricon, as often as my schedule permitted – which wasn’t as often as I wanted. 

For decades, my connection to fandom was through these two conventions. I did not attend the big comic cons that had become popular or the professionally run conventions focused on Star Trek or newly popular franchises. Since I didn’t have as much time (or money) for conventions, when I went, I wanted to connect with community and have substantive conversations and experiences. The pro cons felt like cotton candy, the fan cons were a sustaining meal! 

As my children and I grew older, I attended a few fan-run World Science Fiction Conventions, which were everything I loved about conventions writ gargantuan. I ventured out and went to a few fan-run conventions out of town. 

Recently, I retired. Now, I have time. I attended my first comic con, C2E2 (Chicago Comics and Entertainment Exhibition). When the folks who run C2E2 announced a major Star Trek convention in Chicago, it felt like an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the pro cons. 

I enjoyed C2E2 and Star Trek Mission: Chicago. However, if I have to make a choice between these stage and store cons and the cons run by fans for fans, I am going to the latter. I had a good time and I met some nice people, but the connections were superficial and commercial. 

All conventions must make money. There are bills to pay. Convention spaces don’t donate their space or resources. However, the commercial focus at C2E2 and Mission: Chicago was prominent. For example, it was very clear that Mission: Chicago’s real mission was to sell the new Star Trek shows. It was peddling all sorts of products and subscriptions connected to them. That was its main purpose. The celebration, exploration, and community were by-products when fans buy products. 

I liked hearing from the stars and creators, yet I missed the analysis and thoughtful conversations that are often present during smaller panels. The comedian emcees at Mission: Chicago did not seem to be fans themselves and often, perhaps unconsciously, took a condescending tone. I sometimes felt like I was at an event for children. 

I met some very nice people and had good conversations with the folks sitting around me. We didn’t walk to the con suite and sit down and talk. We didn’t ask each other, “Where are you going next?” I doubt we’ll see each other at the next con. 

I was pleased to see that both pro conventions had some events beyond the main stage. However, they were few. There were a few costume-related events, a secondary stage, and a panel room (or two); skimpy by even COVID fan con standards. 

The pro cons are not cheap! They want high prices for entry – and all the stuff in the exhibit hall. They also sell products related to their famous star guests: autographs, photo opportunities, and other ways to rub shoulders with celebrities were main items on the menu– for a price. 

Fans created these conventions many years ago. Business people now use them as marketing tools. Conventions, for me, are far more than celebrities and shopping. 

I wonder what all the folks who go to these big productions would think of their local conventions? Would they join a fan group, help with a fan-based charity project, discuss a book, and become more substantively connected to the brilliant, inclusive, and thriving fan family? I hope so. The World Science Fiction Convention is coming to Chicago over Labor Day Weekend. Windycon is in November and Capricon is in February. Join us!