Brain Drain

            I’m upset. For years I’ve relied on perfectly good scientific evidence to explain my difficulty with math, to excuse my inability to strategize successful chess moves, to support my claim I’m a “word” and not a “numbers” person. Now it appears that the evidence I’ve relied on is neither good nor scientific. A recent article in the Wall Street Journal  (Kosslyn and Miller 10/19-20/13) reveals that the old left-brain/right-brain theory is bogus—nothing more than psycho-babble.

            How can this be? The theory makes so much sense. I mean, all you have to do to prove its veracity is point to the geek who can build a computer out of tin foil and old television antennas but doesn’t know he shouldn't wear black socks with sandals. And how about the artist who can create a museum-worthy masterpiece but can’t navigate his way through the grocery store aisles?

            And if this evidence right before our eyes every single day isn’t enough, there is the academic community paying homage to the left/right-brain claim. As a former teacher, I’ve lost track of the 

Remember the 1990s movie Soap Dish?
Well, all these brain theories are giving
me "brain fever."

number of workshops I attended that divided students into the “intuitive” and the “logical” and offered tactics to bridge those brain gaps. Surely, experts entrusted with the education of our young can’t be wrong!!!

            So if the whole left/right-brain paradigm is unsupported, how has it gained such a stronghold? The WSJ article gave a lot of facts, statistics, and logical explanations about how that happened, but I couldn’t understand them. So I’m going to skip to the part that tells how our brains really work and give my intuitive interpretation.

            If at this point you are reluctant to embrace yet another brain theory, let me put your mind at ease. The top/bottom-brain approach—known as “the theory of cognitive modes”—is built on “decades of unimpeachable research.” Although that research was conducted over fifty years ago, we’re just now hearing about it because it has “largely remained inside scientific circles.” In other words, they kept it a secret until now. Why? The article didn’t say. You’ll have to ask those inside the circles.

            What I understand, though, is that our gray matter is indeed divided—but between top and bottom rather than right and left. Everyone has the same amount of useable brain available to him, but his “mode” depends on whether or not he optimizes both halves of it. I interpret this as if you’re not wildly successful, it’s because you’re a slacker who isn’t using your entire brain to its optimal benefit. The article claims that no one mode is better than another, but come on. I might not be inside any scientific circles, but even I can decipher that a “Mover”—whose top- and bottom-brain systems are both “highly utilized in optional ways”—has it all over the “Adapter”—who basically coasts along using as little brain matter as possible. The remaining modes of “Perceiver” and “Stimulator,” you might have guessed, use their top and bottom brains to varying degrees between the other two modes.

            If you don’t perceive yourself as a Mover, don’t feel bad. The article states that “Each [mode] is useful in different circumstances.” You might be a slacker Adapter, but you can still be “useful.” You can do things like run errands or answer the phone for the high-powered Mover. There. I knew that would make you feel better. At least until the next theory comes along.                 

Lacking Time and Inspiration for Writing?

             Over two weeks had passed since my last post, and I didn’t have the time or the inclination to post another. I was feeling guilty because, although I’d never committed to a blog-a-week contract, that had been my unofficial game plan. Two particular barriers stood in the way of my productivity: 1) I had nothing to say, and 2) I was getting ready to go out of town and had a million things to do.

            Call it fate, serendipity, a fortunate coincidence. On my trip I acquired a great little book entitled Letters to Alice on first reading Jane Austen. (See post below.) Fay Weldon wrote it in 1983, but her timeless advice helped me gain perspective thirty years later. Not far into the book, Weldon addresses two categories of tormentors that plague writers:  those who stand behind writers and those who stand in front.

            Foremost among those who stand behind is the Muse. The Muse needs no introduction to anyone who has ever dared to dabble in the creative arts. She is as demanding as she is elusive. She dogs writers, prodding them to go forward. “Go, go, go!” she shouts, as relentless as an NFL coach in her insistence they perform. When at last they give in to her goading, she rewards them by bestowing and withdrawing inspiration with sadistic pleasure.

Which necessity impedes your
writing progress?

            On rare occasions the Muse behaves herself. She gives writers a really great plot, an intriguing character, a cutting-edge insight, only to have them attacked by tormentors from the front. Among those tormentors is the one I’ll call Necessity. Necessity steps in front of writers, raises her hand traffic-cop style, and shouts, “Stop!” She insists writers cease or at least interrupt their craft in order to meet the demands of daily living. To impede their progress, she throws in their paths such tasks as doing laundry, transporting kids, paying bills. In her own way, Necessity is as devious as the Muse, imposing stiff fines of guilt on those who fail in these endeavors. 

            So what solution does Weldon offer for overcoming these tormentors? None, I’m afraid. But what she does give, as I stated above, is perspective. The perspective to realize there will never be the perfect situation for sitting down to write. There will always be struggles for great ideas, for the best ways to state them, for enough uninterrupted time to write them down, for strategies to deal with naysayers. And the good news is that—in an almost paradoxical way—it is through struggles and through everyday living, the Muse visits. Or as Weldon so eloquently puts it: “...it is the battle the writer wages with the real world which provides the energy for invention.”

Grousing Gratification Delayed

            Those of you who follow my blog regularly—yes, both of you—might have noticed I’ve missed a week or two in posting something new. That’s because I’ve been in the Great Northwest—the damp and rainy Great Northwest—visiting family. Whenever I travel to Springfield, OR, one of my favorite activities is visiting my niece Amanda Bird’s Book Nest, which features “Fine Books, Good Reading.” Amy (family's name for her) has a wonderful selection of quality secondhand books and collectible volumes, and I always find way more books there than I can possibly afford to buy or find time to read.

            On this trip, I narrowed my choices to two books, one of which was Maeve Binchy’s Minding Frankie. I agree with Kirkus Review’s assessment that Minding Frankie is “cheerful, read-by-the-fire comfort.” There is also plenty of laughing out loud. And I’m as much a fan of Binchy’s style as I am her content. The author is a genius at revealing characters through their actions. Talk about “show and don’t tell,” Binchy has the art mastered. In the past, several of my friends have suggested  I read Binchy, but you know how it goes—so many good books, so little time. I never quite made it around to giving her a try. But the upside of rain and damp on a vacation is that it provides a lot of downtime--time to read. Now I’m hooked on Binchy and will be reading more of her work.

            The second book I chose was Letters to Alice on first reading Jane Austen, written by Fay Weldon and published in 1983. While based on a fictional premise—Weldon isn’t really writing to her niece and, in fact, doesn’t even have a niece named Alice—this book is mainly non-fiction. In a collection of essays, Weldon shares her thoughts on writing and on reading literature—many works of great literature, not just Jane Austen’s. In a review in The London Times, Fiona McCarthy wrote, “...the belief that books can actually change us, have the power to improve us, animate this work...” If you are a Jane Austen devotee, an aspiring writer, or a bibliophile in general, I know you will enjoy her witty and insightful comments. Like Binchy, she also provides many laugh-out-loud moments. And you’re in luck. It can be ordered on Amazon!

             I sat down to write this post, fully intending to grouse about how a blog is not a taskmaster, how I’m not going to be a slave to it, how I do have a life....in short, making excuses about why I haven’t blogged. But I enjoyed these books so much, I just had to share. Don't despair. The grousing will come later.

             If you’ve read either of these authors, I’d love to read your input about them...kind of an on-line book club meeting!

When It Comes to Expressing Emotion Is There a Middle Ground?

            Not long ago, I texted my daughter: “Have you heard ‘Mama’s Broken Heart’ by Miranda Lambert? It’s hilarious!” (Yes, I’m a baby-booming, ex-English-teaching texter. I spell out all the words and include the capitalization and proper punctuation.)

            Her reply: “no”

            My response: “When you hear it, give me a call. I want to know what you think. I love it!”

            A few days later I got a call from her. “I know why you love that song,” she said. “The mama is you. You think she’s giving good advice.”

            I didn’t deny the charge, although it’s not completely true.

            What I call my formative years occurred during the 1950s, when “what will the neighbors think?” was a genuine concern and behaving yourself in public in order to “save a little face” wasn’t frowned upon. But I entered my teens during the 1960s—the decade in which pop-culture influencers instructed impressionable youths to “let it all hang out.” So can it come as a surprise to anyone that on the subject of expressing emotions, I stand firmly in the middle?

            I contend somewhere between uptight restraint, which insists we inhibit our feelings to the point of denying them, and flagrant exhibitionism, which says it’s perfectly okay for a full-grown adult to throw a temper tantrum in the Walmart parking lot, there is a balanced way to handle them.

            Here are some strategies I recommend:

1. Acknowledge your feelings, but don’t act on them in public. Your little tirade might be cathartic for you, but it unnerves innocent bystanders. And when it’s all over, you’re going to want to forget about it while others have already posted it on Facebook. (Of course, there are those out there—and you know who you are—who thrive on this kind of attention.) Also, a public display could get you fired or arrested. I’ve always found the shower to be the perfect place to carry out a noisy meltdown.  

2. Talk out your angst with family or friends, but know there’s a limit to what even those closest to you can endure. If the BFF you’ve known since grade school—or your own mother—starts blocking your calls, take the Dear Abby route: consult a professional.

3. Employ a diversionary tactic. Shopping works for me, even if it is just window shopping. But if financial problems are the cause of your emotional stress, find another tactic.

4. “Fix your make-up...paint your toes.” The song makes fun of mama’s instructions to take a little pride in appearance, but I happen to think that’s wise advice. If you're dealing with anger, I’ve always liked Ivana Trump’s approach: “Looking good is the best revenge.” But DON’T make any major cosmetic decisions—like cutting your hair (with or without “rusty scissors”) or getting a tattoo—before giving yourself a reasonable cooling off period.

5. Take Olivia Newton-John’s suggestion and “get physical.” Okay, I’m thinking more along the lines of going for a run or cleaning your house. But if the kind of “physical” advocated in the song works for you, go for it. And speaking of songs...

6. Sing! That’s right. My mama once told me she knew when her mother was upset because she’d start humming. Even if your singing ability falls somewhere between an off-key bagpipe and a cat’s caterwauling, find a private place and belt out a song. The louder, the more therapeutic. I’ve found the shower stall is a good place for this, too.

Above all...

7. Pray. This is the tricky one. I think it’s especially difficult to pray when dealing with anger, but that’s the time it’s most critical. I’ve discovered (after a lot of resistance) that it’s hard to remain mad at someone for whom you’re praying.

            I must admit I’ve learned these lessons the hard way—through many trials and errors. But on the times I’ve had the presence of mind to follow them, I’ve saved myself a lot of grief. And, yes, I've spent a lot of time in the shower.

            If you have some strategies that work for you, I can always use more!      

 

Master Brooks's Bookses: MY FIRST DAY

          Grammy Dee came to visit me last weekend, so you know what that means: I must do a book review. Actually, I don’t mind because I love books and I enjoy sharing my thoughts about them. Today I’m reviewing My First Day by Steve Jenkins and Robin Page. My Aunt Audrey bought this book for me at the San Diego Zoo and sent it to me for my birthday. (Did you catch that? Birthday? Yes, I’m now three years old!) If you can't make it to San Diego to pick up a copy, don't fret. You can order it on Amazon.

            It’s ironic that Aunt Audrey sent this particular book to me now that I’m such a big boy, because My First Day is all about what animals do when they are tiny babies—only one day old. On the day they're born, some animals are  as helpless as human babies and must depend on their parents for everything. On their first day, kittens can’t see OR hear. Other animals, like the kiwi, are expected to survive on their own the minute they hatch out of an egg. I think that would be very scary! I learned many other interesting facts about baby animals from this book. For instance, did you know on the day a baby zebra is born, his mother memorizes his unique stripe pattern and can pick him out of a herd of hundreds of zebras? I also learned the names of unusual animals. Do you know what a sifaka or a capybara is? No? Well, read this book and you will! And you can get further information about the animals from the illustrated guide in the back.

            I promise you will love learning all the fascinating facts about the baby animals in this book. You will also enjoy the colorful pictures of the babies and their parents.

Aunt Audrey also sent me this cool t-shirt from the zoo. If
I look unhappy in this picture, it's not because I don't like
my shirt or my book. It's because I don't like standing still
long enough to get my picture taken.

Resurrecting Macrame-nia is a Great Idea! Knot.

             When it comes to fashion and décor, I enjoy revisiting bygone eras, taking pleasure in the nostalgia they elicit. But I do have my limits. There are those decades I’d just as soon exclude from any revival movement. Ever.  Among them, the 1970s.

             The fact I’m not a current fan of the ‘70s decade doesn’t mean I eschewed all of its trends when I lived through them. On the contrary, I enthusiastically embraced “feathered” hair a la Farrah,  bell-bottomed pants, peasant blouses, wooden platformed shoes. I even bought my husband a leisure suit (which, thank goodness, he had the good sense to despise and wore only twice). As I was writing this post, I caught myself humming "The Age of Aquarius" (which actually came out in 1969, but close enough). To decorate my first home, I took inspiration from the apartment of Chrissy, Jack, and Janet of Three’s Company fame. And I was enamored of macramé.

A couple of examples of
the macrame art that
decorated my 1970s home

With walls and ceilings
amply adorned, we could move
on to apparel.

(For the record, my aunt made these
pieces. I stuck mainly with three-prong
pot hangers.)

       I’m not sure what it was about tying knots that had the country ensnarled in that craze, but you can count me as a victim of ‘70s macrame-nia. I think part of my zeal was inspired by an aunt who was truly a person created to create. Her hands were constantly busy—crocheting, knitting, sewing, weaving, even spinning. And she was a consummate teacher, loving nothing better than sharing her skills with anyone who wanted to learn them. In the ‘70s, she found willing and eager  students among family and friends for her macramé classes. In knot-tying frenzies, we  fashioned hangers for anything from pots to pendant lights. Products of our new-found skill were suspended from every square foot above our heads. At one point, my dad flatly refused to hang any more of my mother’s “art” for fear the ceiling would collapse. With the space above us either off-limits or filled, we moved on to wall hangings, window and door coverings, purses, belts, jewelry, vests, hats...even bikinis. (I actually never had a macrame bikini, so don't ask me how that worked.) The options were endless, running out of rope being the  only deterrent to our productivity.

            With the comeback capability of a boomerang, macramé has enjoyed a long and interesting history  of wafting in and out of popularity. Originating in the 13^th century with Arab weavers, the skill worked its way across Europe. In the 17^th century, Queen Mary taught it to her ladies-in-waiting. Sailors brought it to the New World, where, in the 1970s, hippies and housewives practically made a cottage industry out of it. Macramé fell out of favor for a couple of decades, but the other day on the Houzz website, an article suggested it might be staging yet another appearance. A quick search revealed dozens of Pinterest boards dedicated to it. Of course, for the sake of marketing, this most recent phase will involve innovative twists such as...fewer owls.

            As far as I’m concerned, even a dearth of owls can’t be innovative enough to make resurrecting macrame-nia a good idea. It roped me in once, but as with many trends and fads, once is enough.

 

            Any thoughts on this? I’d love to hear from those of you who, like me, were entangled in the ‘70s macramé web.

Let's Put the "Self" Back in Self-Esteem

            I began my teaching career in the mid-1980s, about the same time the self-esteem movement began to sweep through education. I struggled for years with that concept, torn between what I was observing first-hand in my classroom and what the education “experts” were telling me I should be observing (experts being those persons with lots of educational theories but little or no actual classroom experience). Then one day in the mid-1990s in the school library, the cover of a Psychology Today magazine caught my eye. The headline: “The Ten Worst Educational Theories of the Last Ten Years.” Hallelujah! The self-esteem theory made the list.

            Of course, in spite of the experts’ insistence they are “cutting-edge” innovators, they’re often reluctant to abandon ideas they’ve long embraced and propounded—even if those ideas don’t work. So twenty-something years after its initial appearance, the specter of bestowing self-esteem as a motivator still haunts the classroom. But thanks to books and articles I’ve read lately, I sense the ghost can soon be laid to its final rest. 

            I’m sure we all have memories of the fire-breathing, draconic teacher who managed the classroom through heavy-handed intimidation. I’m certainly not advocating that method. But, surely, somewhere between tyrannical teaching and feeding undeserving egos, a middle road exists.  

            I’m not a psychologist (never even played one on TV), but I’ve read a lot on this subject, trying to make sense of the nonsensical. Two works on which I’m drawing to write this post are the book Generation Me, by Jean M. Twenge, Ph. D and an article in the Wall Street Journal by Sue Shellenbarger, dated February 27, 2013.  Based on my personal experience as a parent and teacher and based on what I’ve read, the following suggestions are some of my ideas for a balanced approach to instilling confidence, not hyper-inflated egotism, in children.

            First and foremost, realize the operative word in self-esteem is self. It should be earned, not bestowed. High self-esteem is not a cause, a means of producing better results. It’s an effect, a result of having worked hard to achieve an admirable goal. I’m not saying children actually have to achieve that goal. They just need to know they did their best in order to take satisfaction in their effort. And kids are smart. They know when they don’t deserve that trophy, gold star, high grade, praise, etc.

            Allow children to feel bad about themselves sometimes. If they’ve been mean or hurtful or dishonest, they probably should feel bad. It doesn’t mean they can never be forgiven or have to carry guilt for the remainder of their lives. And it doesn’t mean we withhold love from them. But that uncomfortable feeling can be a goad to correct a misdeed or a deterrent to future bad behavior. Several years ago I read that only the criminally insane have continually high levels of self-esteem.

            Recognize that no one is good at everything. When we suggest that all children have done all things equally well by handing out blanket rewards, we diminish the special skills or talents of some and discourage hard work and perseverance. (Before you start objecting, read my next point.)

            Acknowledge that everyone does something well. The “Good Sportsmanship Trophy” has often been the butt of jokes. But you know what? Over the long haul, the ability to encourage others or handle disappointment with grace or perspective might well be a more valuable life-skill than throwing a mean curve-ball. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging skills such as those—as long as you don’t give a good sportsmanship trophy to everyone on the team.

            Do give encouragement. There is a difference between giving encouragement and doling out self-esteem. Encouragement develops self-control and self-discipline—two assets that will serve a child exceedingly better than a trumped-up sense of entitlement.  

            I’ve already overshot my word limit on this post by about two hundred words, but I can’t close without making this final point. If my suggestions sound uncaring or mean-spirited, consider the full title of Twenge’s book: Generation Me: Why Today’s Young Americans Are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled—and More Miserable Than Ever Before.

            Your thoughts?