Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 421
January 20, 2014
My daughter attributes her difficulties with sharing to the assassination of MLK
I told my four year-old daughter that I don’t have to work because it’s Martin Luther King Day. “That’s a day when we celebrate the life of a man named Martin Luther King.”
“I know,” she said, almost dismissively.
“You know about Martin Luther King?”
“Yes,” she said. “We read a book about him in school. And we talked about him.”
I was impressed. “What do you know about him?”
“He was a man who was shot and and had to die,” she said. “He helped a lot of people.”
I was a little surprised that she even knew what being shot meant (and maybe she doesn’t), but I pressed on. “How did he help people?”
“He taught people how to share. No matter what color they are. That’s why I sometimes have a hard time sharing. Because someone had to shoot him, so now he’s not here anymore to help me anymore.”
She sounded annoyed as she said this. Angry, even. Like someone had taken Martin Luther King away from her, which is essentially true.
Not bad. A basic understanding of Dr. King’s message, wrapped up in the self-centeredness of a four year-old child.
January 19, 2014
The perpetual search for a good parking spot is probably insane
Slate’s Justin Peters argues that handicapped parking fraud is one of the jerkiest crimes imaginable.
I agree.
My evil stepfather didn’t teach me much and demonstrated little by way of moral judgment, but when he saw a car parked illegally in a handicapped spot, he would scratch the paint with his car key.
Not the best example to set for your child, but at least he was talking a stand against something.
The most baffling aspect of of handicapped parking fraud is the risk-reward involved:
Park a little closer. Save a few steps. Risk a hefty fine and being labeled as a social pariah.
It’s just not worth it.
Almost as infuriating is the senseless desire to find a parking spot close to the entrance to a person’s destination. The amount of time that the average person is willing to invest in order to avoid walking 50 feet is astounding.
I have known people who will spend 15 minutes looking for a good parking spot at the mall in order to save 100 steps, knowing full well that their intention is to spend the next four hours walking thousands of steps inside the mall.
It’s insane.
I would love for an economist to do a study on the time and energy wasted searching for a good parking spot versus adopting the policy of driving to the end of the row and parking as far away as possible, even when a closer spot is clearly available.
I strongly suspect that consistently parking at the end of the row, without any attempt to park closer, would prove to be a time saver in the long run, and perhaps get you a little more exercise in the process.
I would adopt this policy myself, but I am married to a woman who really likes a good parking spot.
The sacrifices we make for our spouses.
January 18, 2014
Boy and girl in dryer
When I was a boy, I would hide in the dryer when playing hide-and-go-seek. Occasionally my father would start the dryer, sending me for a warm tumble.
It was the 1970’s. A strange time in America.
This isn’t the same thing, but it’s close.
Perhaps a more appropriate version of what I used to do as a child. Much less dangerous (so not quite as fun) but still pretty great.
Is Jimmy Fallon the coolest man on Earth?
I’ve never wanted to be anyone but me. Ever.
Jimmy Fallon may be the one exception.
January 17, 2014
The Moth: The Turtle and Me
The following is a story that I told at a Moth StorySLAM at Villa Victoria in Boston in August of last year.
The theme of the night was Summer. I told a story about the fate of a snapping turtle at summer camp.
I finished in first place.
Helmet head
My daughter has started wearing her bike helmet in the house, sometimes when scootering and sometimes when simply playing with her toys, watching television or coloring.
There have been days when the helmet never comes off.
“I want to be safe,” she explained me.
She’s four years old, and she’s already starting to sound like a Jewish mother. Is this normal?
January 16, 2014
My daughter is tougher than a thousand Moth judges.
I competed in a Moth GrandSLAM at The Music Hall in Williamsburg last night and finished in second place.
Again. By a tenth of a point.
The only consolation was that I lost to my favorite storyteller of all time, who has beaten me by a tenth of a point more than a few times in my Moth career.
In truth, I was also pleased to have told my story well and to have held my own in a field of extraordinary storytellers. It was truly an all-star lineup.
When I woke my four year-old daughter up this morning, she yawned, wiped the sleep from her eyes and asked, “So? Did you win last night?”
“No, sweetie. But I came in second.”
She frowned and made a tiny raspberry sound. Then she sat up, looked me in the eye and said, “C’mon, Daddy. You always come in second place.”
Sometimes a little girl’s assessment of your performance in the privacy of her bedroom can be tougher to handle than five teams of judges in a public setting.
I’m apparently competing against myself now.
Booktopia, the largest bookstore in all of Australia, is now selling the Matthew Green and Matthew Dicks versions of Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend side by side.
As the reader who reported this oddity to me said, I’m really not sure what to think about this.
Speak Up storyteller: Rachel Leventhal-Weiner
Our next Speak Up storytelling event is on Saturday, January 18, at 8:00 at Real Art Ways in Hartford.
The show is sold out! Hope you got your tickets already!
This week we introduce you to the storytellers who you will be hearing from on Saturday night.
Hope to see you there!
_______________________________
Rachel Leventhal-Weiner is a sociologist mom living in West Hartford. A native of New Jersey, Rachel has been writing creative stories since she was a little girl and is thrilled for another chance to take the mic with Speak Up at Real Art Ways.
By day, Rachel teaches in the Educational Studies Program at Trinity College. By afternoon, evening, and weekend, you can find Rachel filling every minute of the day with adventures with family and friends.
She is the mother of two exuberant little girls who keep her on her toes. She loves to cook most things from scratch, wishes she had more time to crochet, and is never going to give up on her dream of running a (half) marathon. She loves a good hike, a great cocktail, and time with her incredible husband, David. Rachel spends her “free” time clicking keys on her laptop and sipping on coffee at Hartford Baking Company, writing scholarly papers and blogging at www.roguecheerios.com.
January 15, 2014
For sale: Stolen Childhood Dreams
This is fascinating:
An archive of toys taken from London schoolchildren by teachers in 150 different schools over thirty years.
The exhibit, entitled Confiscated Cabinets (currently on display at the Victoria & Albert Museum of Childhood in London) was assembled by teacher and artist Guy Tarrant, who became interested in the toys as tokens of resistance to school routines and discipline. He enlisted other teachers to donate their own confiscated items to his project.
Each year I have my own collection of confiscated items, though it usually consists of pens that students incessantly clicked and small trinkets that continued to find their way onto students’ desks and interfered with learning.
Last year I collected more than a dozen pens from one student alone.
Years ago, however, I had a class of third graders who were obsessed with toys and brought them in constantly. Action figures, Pokémon paraphernalia, Matchbox cars… it was endless.
As I confiscated one toy, another took its place, so I began placing these confiscated items into a large, clear, plastic pretzel container. When the container was full, I sealed it, photographed it and placed it for auction on eBay until the title “Stolen Childhood Dreams.”
The children were appalled that I would dare to sell their toys, but to their credit, the parents supported the decision. In the end, the jar sold for $87.00, and we donated the money to charity.
I tell my students that story at the beginning of every school year, and not surprising, I’ve never had to deal with toys to the level that I did that year.
