The Fatherhood Trilogy

When my wife revealed she was pregnant with our first child just over 4 years ago I was stricken with a sense of urgency to learn everything about child-rearing - how to care for an infant, how to make them smart, how to get them into a good college, how to make sure they aren't bratty, how to get them to sleep, how to help them find a good partner, what is attachment parenting, how to potty-train, do I need soothers, what kind of gear is actually necessary... you get the picture; I'm a bit of a freak. Call it first-time fatherhood jitters, but I seriously felt a need to learn everything I could and so I dashed to the library and walked out with a stack of books, determined to consume every single one. 

As I embarked on my parenting inquiry I was immediately overwhelmed and perplexed by the sheer variety of books available - each one of my questions could have easily been answered ten times over! I also learned something about my reading habits that I never realized before - I'm a habitual researcher. Since parenting provides constant challenges and I'm always keen on doing some research, I keep parenting books on my radar (currently, I've borrowed Brain Rules for BABY by John Medina). After reading at least a dozen books on the subject of parenting (and attempting, but failing to read at least a dozen more) I've come to realize:

a) there's a lot of terribly useless information out there, so not all advice is necessary or worthy - know who's opinions you trust and follow your gut when taking advice

b) experience trumps everything as the best educator - no two kids are the same, so one-size-fits-all advice is just a pipe dream

c) take what you can - try it and if you like it, keep it

Now, I'm no expert at fatherhood, but I have been able to glean some incredibly valuable information and practical strategies from a few parenting books. At this point, I've read (and re-read) three books that have positively influenced my fatherhood experience - and I've even managed to rub some of my learning off on my wife (who admittedly relies on old fashioned instincts, not habitual research like me). I find myself often recommending this parenting trilogy to anyone willing to listen, especially new parents that feel a need to do some research...

The Whole Brain Child 
by Dr. Daniel J. Siegel

The most practical and resourceful parenting book I've read to date. Dr. Siegal provides 12 easy-to-implement strategies for dealing with everything from defiance to tantrums and more. The title stems from the scientific principle that the brain is divided in two ways - left and right; top and bottom - and when there is discord between one side or the other, problem behaviours in children will arise. Each strategy proposes ways to balance or integrate all parts of a child's brain to calm and soothe them.

The Parent's Tao Te Ching 
by William Martin

A simple poetic read based on the principles of Taoism and finding the middle way as a parent. The text is divided into 81 poems, which include questions to guide your reflection on the principles of parenting outlined. This format allows the text to function as a daily reflective journal which can be digested one or two (or ten) poems at a time. Ultimately, this book connected to my love of poetic forms and reinvigorated the joy I feel in fatherhood.




Family Wisdom From the Monk Who Sold His Ferrari 
by Robin Sharma

Robin Sharma talking about family. 'Nuff said.

What's on your bookshelf?

I was recently inspired by our journey of symbolism and tragic love in my Gr.10 English Class. John Green's Looking for Alaska is one of our 'Book Club' novel selections and a quote from the book actually inspired this post.

In the novel, Alaska Young describes her room: "When I look at my room I see a girl who loves books..." The quote immediately turned my thinking to one of my favourite pieces of furniture in my house: my bookshelf.

I don't love the bookshelf itself (a great Costco purchase BTW) but rather the story that the bookshelf tells. Nestled among our favourite novels, puzzles, games and children's books are photoboxes, albums and yearbooks with nostalgic memories of days gone by. Images of my loving family - my wife and I on our wedding day, my son and daughters in their infancy - overlook our main living area as we go about our daily lives. 

Standing boldly upright is the handmade oak bible box built by my father (1 of 6 actually, which he made for each of his children one Christmas). An old-time radio adorned with a brass Superman logo sits at the top; it's one of a few remaining Superman collectibles from years of scavenging for anything related to my favourite comic book hero. Scattered throughout the shelves are artifacts from Thailand, California, the Dominican and our wedding day, among other notable collectibles from our shared or independent adventures.

In our house, our bookshelf serves many functions - mainly to house books of course - but for me it serves as a great symbol. Dig a little deeper and you might notice some order amidst the chaos of the shelf - each section represents the collective wisdom of a life spent wondering and wandering. 

I'm curious now - what's on your bookshelf?

Just start...

Since creating my first blog post several weeks ago, I've been reflecting on how to use Robin Sharma's message to just start in my classroom. Recently I've been contemplating whether or not to dump a traditional whole-class novel study in my English class and explore 'Book Clubs' as an alternative. I've done enough research to start, but we all know that experience is the best educator so jumping in seemed like the next logical step. The book club concept seems like an incredibly uncomfortable risk when we are bound by the time constraints of a semester and we grimace at the potential lack of control this process proposes.

I am blessed with a group of open-minded students who have joined me on a renewed teaching journey this year... I've scrapped all my old materials and changed up my teaching style dramatically with this class to allow room for greater risk-taking (and the results have been inspiring). The risks relate to the types of assignments given, the amount of choice and freedom I give and how they can meet the expectations in the classroom. It's a messy venture at times, though the results are promising.

The biggest change I've made ties to my students perceptions of themselves - many of them entered my classroom with self-deprecating thoughts and beliefs, especially about their academic abilities. We know that these thoughts prevent students from seeing success and thereby experiencing their own brilliance. So I've made it my mission to use literature and writing to help them make this discovery, open their mindset and realize their potential.

I have seen every single one of my students shine in some way or another this term - reluctant readers have found books to love, anxious nerves have been overcome to complete oral presentations, shy thinkers have openly shared their beliefs during class and struggling writers have found their voice through greater organization and development. 

Our curiosities about tragedy.

Because of these successes, we are entering the realm of book clubs. Our focus is 'tragic love' and as such we've chosen four high interest texts to examine this concept, including a graphic, plain-text novelization of 'Romeo and Juliet', which many of my students thought they'd never attempt. There's that self-defeat again - their misconceptions have led them to believe Shakespeare is not for them even though we know that Shakespeare wrote for the masses.

We started the unit by examining two key inquiry questions - What is love? (cue Haddaway)and What is tragedy? I'm inspired by the variety of beliefs and experiences that these students were able to share on these topics. Love and tragedy seem to be so central to teen experience (and really, aren't they central to experience regardless of age?) so naturally, my students expressed even more curiosities. So what do we do when we are curious? We ask more questions... and that's exactly what my students did.

Part of our focus for the unit will explore how literature allows us to come to terms with our own reality. We'll check to see how tragic love has evolved over time and determine whether or not there are universal truths that literature can reveal to us. We'll revisit the questions we have about love and tragedy to see if character experience can give us new insight into our own beliefs. All of this in theory of course, because we have only just begun and part of my fear is that some may get lost amidst the breadth of independence and focus this journey requires from them...

Our curiosities about love... hmmm... interesting...

At any rate - we have started - and I am nervous and excited and very uncomfortable. Will my students be able to maintain focus? Will they carry on academic discourse or get lost in distraction? Will they hold themselves accountable to ensure they're contributing to their novel study groups? Will this whole thing end in a gigantic mess full of tears, stress and a burned out teacher feeling like this was the worst idea EVER? 

I'm hopeful that all will end well - and at the very least, no matter how messy it gets - I know that the greatest risk is to not take any risks at all. Regardless of the outcome, this feels like a risk worth taking.