Metaphorever

I hope everyone's had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I enjoyed my pie (the green bean casserole was too salty, and the turkey and ham were too... vegetarian unfriendly). But the pumpkin, apple, and pecan pies were there to make sure I didn't go hungry! I also tried a new recipe this year, and it turned out great, if you wanna try it! I loved spending time with all my family. We don't often ALL come together, and I truly enjoyed the company of loved ones, as I hope you did, too.

But now back to school... We've been talking a great deal about metaphors in English class lately. What I found interesting was that there are several categories, or tiers, of metaphors. We all know what makes a metaphor (if you don't, please educate yourself before reading on!) The stars in the sky are diamonds. My homework is poison.
HOWEVER, metaphors aren't just things we come up with to make a point. Conventional metaphors are things we use every single day. So yeah, when you win an argument or run out of time, you're METAPHORING when you say so! The first conventional metaphor my class dealt with was "Argument is War." Then we learned that life is a flame or a day or a year, and how death is a departure, people are plants, and romance is fire. These metaphors affect the way we think about these things! Our brains are just wired to think this way. The way we form moral opinions on something depends on the language we use to describe such things.

Simply the way we communicate ideas in our language affects the way we think about the concepts. In Spanish, to give birth, dar a luz, literally translates to "give to light," indicating that the "life is a fire/light" metaphor rings true in both our language and theirs. However, not every conventional metaphor reaches across languages. In English, time is money. We waste it, we try to save it, but we're always spending it on something. The same is simply not true in Spanish. I'm not claiming to have found a different metaphor (In Spanish, time is an elephant!... just kidding...), but I do know that you pass time instead of spend it (pasar tiempo). Now compare how Americans treat time to how the Spanish do. In Spain, stores close in the middle of the day for siesta. More people are out later in the night. They're not as stingy with their time as we Americans who work from 9-5 (or stay a school from 6:55 to 2:55, then rehearse til odd hours, then go home and do homework until even odder ones).

That's about the only good comparison I could come up with due to my limited language skills. Anyone else know of interesting differences in conventional metaphors across languages? I'd love to hear them :)

Class

I've been hearing "class" a lot lately. But not always in the same way. Out of curiosity, I looked it up, and much to my surprise, "class" has twenty-nine definitions. TWENTY-NINE! So how do all these forms of class relate to me? Well, My choir is going on tour pretty soon, and we're flying coach class. The hotels we stay at won't be of the highest class, either, but it's okay because we're going to Disney World!

Most of all, I hear "class" at school. I'm a student, so I go to class every day. Even this blog is an assignment for my English class, and people in my class often read my posts. In statistics, I've heard of "classes of data," and in biology, I've heard of class as a group to categorize organisms. In social studies, I've learned about people in societies being ranked by socioeconomic class. Also, there are often merchant classes or artisan classes, or in some cases, religious classes.

Oddly enough, the first definition that pops into my mind when I hear "class" is an informal one, #14: "elegance, grace, or dignity, as in dress and behavior." This type of class never has a negative connotation. Sitting through class can be boring. Coach class flights can be uncomfortable. Your social class might not get along with another. However, the class I think of is something you can possess in almost any of these otherwise unfortunate situations. You can control the way you carry yourself and the way you react to situations, and this can make you "classy."

So, what's the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear "class?" Which definition do you think applies to you most, and why? Are there any other words you've been hearing a whole lot of recently? Any that apply to more than one context?

Managing Lately

Last week Carl Wilkens came to speak to my class. Before his visit, I had a very basic understanding of the Rwandan genocide -- just dates, rough numbers, definitions of Hutu and Tutsi -- so, in all honesty, I hardly considered it important. But this genocide happened in my own lifetime; the years I associate with my early childhood, others will associate with that. Wilkens really did open my eyes to that piece of history, and I'm thankful for my new appreciation of this history.

You may wonder why Wilkens's visit resonated with me so much. Think of what he has done, and then compare my own experiences. I've never set foot in Rwanda. I've never lived the midst of a genocide. I've never taken on responsibility for an orphanage. On that level, I guess I can't relate to his stories. But I have looked at a situation with positive eyes, and seeing someone else do just that and succeed comforted me. I have had doubts about my optimism. Maybe I'm just stupid and naïve. Especially this week (Warning: Next five sentences may follow "irritating rant" format!) I've been pretty swamped. Yes, I finally got my first batch of college applications turned in, but the next deadline (November 15 for CC, for anyone who's curious) is creeping up fast, and school has not relented in the least. The end of the quarter was just a time for me to find out my current grades and feel the pressure of what marks I have to maintain. Express, one of the choirs I sing in, is starting Christmas Season, so I have 2-and-a-half-hour reheasals every day after school. On top of that, Variety Show auditions are Monday, and with so many different numbers (such as the ones I've just linked) to rehearse I haven't gotten home before 8 p.m. yet this week.

I was just going through blogs on my reader account, and I came across this one. Emily reminded me of Mr. Wilkens's visit, and how inspired I felt after listening to him. I'm gonna emulate Wilkens (very consciously this week, though it wouldn't be such a bad thing to do all the time). I'm going to accept some things that I cannot change and trust that I will reap the best possible results if I work hard. My schedule this week isn't gonna change, but I can get through it, and I can enjoy it if I look at the situation the right way. Thanks, Carl Wilkens, for making this all manageable.

Looking into the Eyes in the Trees

I just finished The Poisonwood Bible today! The last book really has resonated with me (if you need a summary of it, here it is) and I want to discuss that. First of all, Kingsolver does not identify the narrator right away. We do figure out that it's Ruth May eventually, for she explains, "I am your bad child now gone good, for when children die they were only good" (Kingsolver 537). Ruth May has a very different voice in this book, as if she had continued to grow up, even after her life on Earth ended. Earlier in the story, Ruth May suggested that if she were dead she would be one with the trees, so the title "The Eyes in the Trees" for the chapter she narrates dead is very appropriate, and the way she watches the events invisibly and inactively likens her presence to that of a tree, unable to act in a situation.

The best part of this final book, to me, was the closure it brought. In the sixth book, we get a final word from each living daughter, and whether we readers like what they've decided or not (Rachel simply sees what she wants to, and Adah gives up her medical profession), we know that they feel some sense of resolution. "The Eyes in the Trees" gives the reader a sense of closure with Ruth May and Orleanna. When the woman Orleanna talks to at the market says that Bulungu does not exist, it's an opportunity for Orleanna to move forward with her life. Ruth May tells her, "Slide the weight from your shoulders and move forward. You are afraid you might forget, but you never will. You will forgive and remember" (Kingsolver 543), as if she is urging Orleanna to move past any pain she still feels. She can accept, without mourning, that Bulungu is gone while still acknowledging that it once did exist. We feel closure because Orleanna has guidance, but we also feel closure from hearing Ruth May once more, this time with a wider mind and greater capacity for abstract thinking, and she is content in her death (she even forgives her mother!)

P.S. I looked it up... Bulungu DOES exist! Look!

I just finished this book and had quite a few thoughts on it, but for you readers of mine out there, I've got some questions. Taking into account what the light/dark duality has signaled throughout this story, what does Ruth May mean by "Walk forward into the light?" Is the encounter with the okapi in book 7 the same encounter we first hear about from Orleanna but from a different perspective, or is it another event entirely? What is Ruth May telling her mother to forgive? Let me know your thoughts, and we can discuss!

Not Alone!

In English class we are reading The Poisonwood Bible. This story has multiple narrators - all the female members of the Price family (if you need more information on the story, go here). Each girl has a distinct voice, and the way they narrate events reveals their varying personal outlooks on the world. The oldest daughter Rachel often pities herself, while Ruth May is too young to abstractly think and simply tells what she hears. Leah yearns to please her father, but her twin sister Adah prefers to develop independent opinions. Orleanna, the mother, feels trapped in her role as Reverend Nathan's wife. We readers receive so many opinions from these authors, but we also see Nathan's beliefs and the values of the Congolese people living among the Prices. One of the most crucial things for readers of The Poisonwood Bible to recognize is all the different viewpoints that are presented. While reading I've felt a faint curiosity to know what the author actually believes.

Today I had a speech team meeting. My coach had told me she had a few pieces picked out that she'd like me to read, and the first one she handed to me was the commencement address to Duke University's graduating class of 2008. The original speaker? None other than Barbara Kingsolver, the author of The Poisonwood Bible. Early in her speech, Kingsolver gives the traditional definition of success: "having boatloads of money." She goes on to name a large house, nice car, and spacious office as things that can be acquired with success. Later, she brings up happiness and its correlation to financial success, saying, "In the last 30 yeas our material wealth has increased in this country, but our self-described happiness has steadily declined. Elsewhere, the people who consider themselves very happy are... Mexico, Ireland, Puerto Rico, the kinds of places we identify with extended family, noist villages, a lot of dancing. The happiest people are the ones with the most community." To my gleeful surprise, I found that Ms. Kingsolver is an optimist like me! Her idea that financial security has no personal meaning, that it cannot bring happiness like a community can, resonated with me.

So how does this relate to The Poisonwood Bible? I now notice ways in which Kingsolver's optimism come out in her writing. Rachel is the most unhappy and most materialistic. When Ruth May falls ill, Leah and Anatole converse. Leah states, "Children should never die," and Anatole responds, "No. But if they never did, children would not be so precious... Also, if everyone lived to be old, then old age would not be such a treasure" (Kingsolver 231). Anatole does not have the power to prevent deaths, and rather than take sorrow in the helplessness, he cherishes children who survive - optimism! I'm very glad to have been introduced to Kingsolver's commencement speech. Analyzing Poisonwood as I continue to read it won't be as daunting as I previously saw it, because I've learned that the author and I are looking out the same window.

Response to Stephen Walt

I recently read a blog post by Stephen A. Walt analyzing the quality of Obama's record. I must admit that I very strongly agree with much of his talk about giving credit where due. In an earlier post of mine, I discussed a similar idea, that often times the most prominent news stories only cover the bad and the ugly, perhaps because the good is less exciting, or less obvious. Under Obama, our country's economy stayed out of the toilet. Yeah, we don't know for sure that the same wouldn't have happened under McCain, but we also don't know if he possibly could have done better or worse (judging by the state our economy before, I'd say that stopping the freefall we were in is something worth commending). Our image to other countries has also improved. When things go bad, it's clear. There are terrorism attacks, wars, and serious relations problems. But when things are going just fine, it's difficult to make an exciting news story out of it. Who would read "BUILDINGS DON'T GET BURNED" if it was on the cover of the Trib? The opposite of terrorism isn't getting confetti and candy shot over to us. When you count up all the countries that hate us less, all the terrorism that didn't happen, and all the potties that didn't flush our economy, Obama's record really isn't all that bad. He might not have gotten to changing things as dramatically as America expected, but he hasn't screwed up, either, and he deserves a pat on the back for that. I seriously respect Walt for acknowledging the possibility that Obama's record isn't all that bad, and I very much enjoyed his post.

Bible Bias?

In English class we have been discussing how the Bible could be taught in public schools. We read data from surveys on teaching the Bible, a TIME article, and even the first few chapters of Genesis. The statistics told us that more people want to see schools educating their students more on the Bible, the article suggested that teaching the Bible secularly, as a piece of literature, would be ideal. Reading Genesis for class, however, really gave me an idea (and yes, an opinion) on teaching the Bible in class.

I went to St. Norbert's Catholic School from kindergarten through eighth grade, so I'm familiar with the Bible. I'm familiar with how the Good Book has more or less dictated the teachings in the Catholic Church, too. I am not perfectly, unquestionably, blindly-accept-everything-I'm-told Catholic, though. When I read I think about the themes, the author's purpose or goals, and the speaker's beliefs. I almost always feel something, whether I agree or disagree. The Bible is primarily a religious text, but I still form opinions when I read it. I like the idea that we can earn salvation through virtuous living and pure intentions. I like that children are innocent and the God that Catholics follow cares enough about us to send his Son down here and set us straight, but I don't like that homosexuality is morally wrong, or that much more emphasis is places on women's fidelity to their husbands than vice versa. I am still at an utter loss as to why playing with pigskin is sinful, too. I think when I read, as I believe every student should, and this is what comes of it.

So when we read Genesis in English, I was thinking. Yes, teaching the Bible and considering its moral lessons in a public school is dangerous. If we agree too much with what the Bible says, we're too Christian. If we reject too many of the Bible's teachings, we're anti-Christian. Our class instead tried to identify which chapters were written by R and which were written by D. We identified literary devices and outlined each author's writing style. This is all perfectly in-bounds for teaching the Bible as a secular piece of literature, but there wasn't much thought or analysis going on (that didn't involve any sort of opinion on the Bible's content). How much further than that can we move without being potentially offensive? If we analyze themes or intent of the speaker in the Bible, we are giving it the same intensity of thought as we give other literature we read, but we are also dangling on the edge of being "too religious." If we avoid any analysis of religion with the Bible in class, we're being safe and secular, but lose much opportunity for analysis. Being too religious in the teaching of the Bible is an obvious problem, but being "too secular" is another potential problem. The Bible is, after all, a religious text, and leaving out any thought on connections to religion is essentially ignoring the primary purpose of the book.