| When I talk with young English Teachers—let’s leave that loosely defined as teachers with less than ten years of experience—and middle and high school students, many of them know M. T. Anderson’s Feed, but few of them know the same author’s The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Volume 1: The Pox Party (2006) . Clearly, dystopian fiction—The Hunger Games, The Divergent Trilogy, The Uglies Series, Unwind, The Last Book in the Universe, and The Giver seem to capture the imaginations of young readers and lead them to consider how the problems of today—racism, poverty, corporate greed, etc.—might play out in the future. In this week’s blog posting, I would like to consider what might happen if we can engage ourselves and our students in reading about the past—especially through young adult nonfiction. Perhaps, if they read these books, they might begin to more actively reflect on whether or not we can learn from past events. Can we learn from mistakes? Can we build on successes? Can we learn the value of the contributions of a single person with a vision? Can we collectively achieve goals that might seem unattainable? I know that I do not read as much nonfiction as I should. I admit to reading the genres that I like almost to the point of exhaustion. At the same time, I realize that if I am to successfully guide future and practicing teachers into the rich world of young adult literature I need to hold myself accountable for reading more widely. |   |
Truly, and without hyperbole, two of the most enthralling books I have read this year are M. T. Anderson’s Symphony for the City of the Dead and Steve Sheinkin’s Most Dangerous: Daniel Ellsberg and the Secret History of the Vietnam War. They are the type of books that I can’t resist talking about with other people. My poor wife has endured several spontaneous explanations about the events and the people that I am learning about. In part one—this week’s posting—I will briefly discuss M. T. Anderson’s book. Next week, in part two, I will discuss Sheinkin’s.
I finished reading Symphony for the City of the Dead about ten days ago. We were on vacation to Cancun, Mexico and it became beach reading that was so captivating I kept forgetting to get in the water. As we took a day trip to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza the two hour bus ride both directions allowed me to move quickly through the book. Frequently, reading on a bus trip can give me a headache, but not this time. First, I was ashamed about how little I really knew about the Siege of Leningrad. Second, I knew a little bit about the composer Dmitri Shostakovich, but not about his struggle to write and produce music that met the call of his own muse under the pressures of Stalin’s purges.
I finished reading Symphony for the City of the Dead about ten days ago. We were on vacation to Cancun, Mexico and it became beach reading that was so captivating I kept forgetting to get in the water. As we took a day trip to the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza the two hour bus ride both directions allowed me to move quickly through the book. Frequently, reading on a bus trip can give me a headache, but not this time. First, I was ashamed about how little I really knew about the Siege of Leningrad. Second, I knew a little bit about the composer Dmitri Shostakovich, but not about his struggle to write and produce music that met the call of his own muse under the pressures of Stalin’s purges.
I have long valued the way in which Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (his only novel allowed to be originally published inside Russia.) helped me understand the Gulag system in post World War II Russia. It was one of the books that I enjoyed teaching the most in the 1980's to tenth grade English students. At the time, I tried to add nonfiction (informational) texts to the unit and we frequently read Solzhenitsyn’s 1970 Nobel Lecture. Two observations from that speech have stayed with me as a teacher of literature over the last 30 years. The first is Solzhenitsyn’s humility as he recognized his good fortune to survive the Gulag to become a writer.
In order to mount this platform from which the Nobel lecture is read (It is noteworthy that Solzhenitsyn was not allowed to leave Russia at the time to accept the award and give the speech.), a platform offered to far from every writer and only once in a lifetime, I have climbed not three or four makeshift steps, but hundreds and even thousands of them; unyielding, precipitous, frozen steps, leading out of the darkness and cold where it was my fate to survive, while others - perhaps with a greater gift and stronger than I - have perished. … Those who fell into that abyss already bearing a literary name are at least known, but how many were never recognized, never once mentioned in public? And virtually no one managed to return. A whole national literature remained there, cast into oblivion not only without a grave, but without even underclothes, naked, with a number tagged on to its toe. Russian literature did not cease for a moment, but from the outside it appeared a wasteland! Where a peaceful forest could have grown, there remained, after all the felling, two or three trees overlooked by chance.
In order to mount this platform from which the Nobel lecture is read (It is noteworthy that Solzhenitsyn was not allowed to leave Russia at the time to accept the award and give the speech.), a platform offered to far from every writer and only once in a lifetime, I have climbed not three or four makeshift steps, but hundreds and even thousands of them; unyielding, precipitous, frozen steps, leading out of the darkness and cold where it was my fate to survive, while others - perhaps with a greater gift and stronger than I - have perished. … Those who fell into that abyss already bearing a literary name are at least known, but how many were never recognized, never once mentioned in public? And virtually no one managed to return. A whole national literature remained there, cast into oblivion not only without a grave, but without even underclothes, naked, with a number tagged on to its toe. Russian literature did not cease for a moment, but from the outside it appeared a wasteland! Where a peaceful forest could have grown, there remained, after all the felling, two or three trees overlooked by chance.
The second is this statement: And they were mistaken, and will always be mistaken, who prophesy that art will disintegrate, that it will outlive its forms and die. It is we who shall die - art will remain. And shall we comprehend, even on the day of our destruction, all its facets and all its possibilities?
It still amazes me that we find ourselves defending the arts. In this recent era of education, we see a decline in the teaching of arts in all its forms, especially in the younger grades and for those we label as needing to “catch up” due to the score on some test that is often used for questionable purposes. Do we really expect students to flourish and succeed to their fullest potential in schools that are reduced to heavily scripted routines and curricula? I firmly believe that educational policy makers shouldn’t promote school settings, practices, and climates that they would not be happy with if their own children had to attend them.
It still amazes me that we find ourselves defending the arts. In this recent era of education, we see a decline in the teaching of arts in all its forms, especially in the younger grades and for those we label as needing to “catch up” due to the score on some test that is often used for questionable purposes. Do we really expect students to flourish and succeed to their fullest potential in schools that are reduced to heavily scripted routines and curricula? I firmly believe that educational policy makers shouldn’t promote school settings, practices, and climates that they would not be happy with if their own children had to attend them.
Anderson’s Symphony for the City of the Dead would have been a welcome addition to my classroom. His tale of the siege of Leningrad at the beginning of World War II and the life and music of Shostakovich would have added a dimension to my unit on One Day in the Life. Together, these two books would have provided an opportunity to conduct in depth cross curricular instruction. I would be a failure at any attempt to adequately praise what Anderson has achieved with this book. It really is a compelling history, as the subtitle suggests, of Dmitri Shostakovich and the Siege of Leningrad. I found myself looking up people and events on Wikipedia. I mourned and was uplifted as I learned about the endurance of the people of Leningrad and the perseverance of Shostakovich and his friends and acquaintances. I could not help but ponder the plight of the world's refugees and those who remain in place and endure the bombing, gunfire, and invasions that are occurring now. Do we learn nothing? I am thankful that Anderson’s remarkable book has taught me so much. More importantly, I was reminded to stop and feel something beyond my own immediate woes. Upon returning home, I listened to Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7 in C Major, Op. 60 “Leningrad,” I felt like I had found a new friend.
Don’t miss this book. I think many students would love it, but especially those who are immersed in history and/or music. It would be a gift to them that they would thank you for forever. It would be a moment of education worth the time and the effort.
I look forward to discussing Sheinkin's Most Dangerous next week.
I look forward to discussing Sheinkin's Most Dangerous next week.
RSS Feed