Junior Great Books and parent-eating lions

When I was in fourth grade I was invited to join a new program at school called Junior Great Books. The top readers from each grade were put in the program, which was designed to get young readers looking deeper into short stories.

According to an article about the program, it was actually developed and put into use in 1962, and is a program “designed to help teachers develop inquiry-based instructional strategies in reading, literary analysis and critical thinking. The shared-inquiry method of discussion about the stories was supposed to develop a student’s reading, communication and thinking skills.”

I didn’t know any of that at age 10, but I knew I loved the books full of short stories. I developed a love of reading at a very young age, and it is still a passion of mine.

Anyway, in fourth grade I was handed a shiny tan book and told to read the first story so we could discuss it the following week. It was like being ordered to eat chocolate and sleep in.

I was finally able to sit with a few classmates and talk about what we had read, what we thought of it, the kind of pictures that popped into our heads as we read descriptions of rooms and people and scenes. It was heaven! As much as my folks encouraged my reading, they certainly didn’t have time to read all the same books and discuss them. And talking to my three brothers about a book was likely to get me a “Shut up, Sis” response.

One story especially just stuck in my head. It was “The Veldt” by Ray Bradbury, about a house that held the latest technology. That house did everything for the family. It clothed them, fed them, rocked them to sleep at night. There were descriptions of futuristic robotic stuff that challenged my imagination. As a child, I know it was all made-up stuff and would never really exist, but it was so intriguing!

In the house was a nursery for the two children. It was a virtual reality room, and produced any setting the children asked for, using the walls and floor and ceiling. The parents, who are portrayed as selfish blobs who are glad the children are so preoccupied with the nursery, eventually realize the room seems to be stuck on an African setting and decide half-heartedly they should do something about it.

SPOILER ALERT: The room eventually becomes more real than anyone ever expected. Long story short, the lions on the African veldt eat the parents. The story ends with their psychologist being given a cup of tea by the children as they sit under a hot African sun. The man notes several lions sprawled in the distance gnawing on something and looking his way as the children tell him they will be back in a few moments and exit the room.

Oh, great story.

Our school district carried the program through sixth grade, and I missed it terribly when I started junior high, but by then I was being placed in classes where book discussion was part of the curriculum. I was introduced to my favorite book ever – “To Kill a Mockingbird” – and that same year read a book that also remains to this day on my top 10 list – “A Day No Pigs Would Die.”

So, fast forward a few years. OK, a lot of years. I ended up with a small child who swallowed books whole. I couldn’t keep Nick in books. He had a high school reading average by the time he was in first grade. He had out-grown our beloved Berenstein Bears by the time he was about five, had ripped through Goosebumps books like they were nothing. By the time he was in 7 years old I had purchased abridged copies of Mockingbird, Flowers for Algernon and any other classic I could think of.

Then one day I got a call from Murray County Central West Elementary. They were starting the Junior Great Books program and wondered if I was interested in leading one of the grades.

Boy, howdy! Was I ever!

I attended a training session led by principal Sally Berg, then I was on my own, facing nine inquisitive second graders, one of whom was my son. Looking back on the next couple of years of leading a group, I can only hope the children enjoyed it as much as I did.

I was thrilled when my group (I moved up a grade each year with the group) came across the story “The Veldt.”

A few of the discussion questions were still the same, but what grabbed my attention from the first was that the inventions that had seemed a total impossibility when I was a child were now either being used or right around the corner. The kids, although they loved the mysterious room and were intrigued by the naughty children who fed their parents to lions, were not at all fazed by the technology. Big screen TVs, computer games and Internet access have gone a long ways toward dulling down that part of “The Veldt.”

It is still a great story, though. And a great program. Check it out!
 

Posted by: jwettschreck on 3/09/2010 at 4:10 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Tags: junior great books, ray bradbury, reading, technology, veldt

A special day

After a quick bit of Internet research I learned there is no traditional gift to celebrate a 24th wedding anniversary, but one Web site said the contemporary gift is a musical instrument or song.

My husband Eric used to play the saxophone, but it has been a while. Maybe I can find him a kazoo. A really special anniversary kazoo? I could get him one, but then I’d have to listen to him play it. Bad idea.

The song thing? I can do that.

Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mind.

Actually there are a few song titles and lyrics I can think of that describe parts of the past 24 years. For instance, at our wedding, my cousin sang “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof. As we watch our kids grow and fly away from the nest, it seems appropriate. I don’t remember getting older … when did they? Probably right around the time Eric’s hair and my tiny waist disappeared.

I suppose I could list all the sappy songs … Faithfully, And I Love You So, Through the Years. But, while those songs are nice, we’re more of a Crazy Little Thing Called Love and Everybody’s in the Twilight Zone kind of couple. Somehow, we make it work.

A friend of mine, working on her degree, has to write a sociology paper on successful marriages in the U.S. I summed it up for her in a couple of sentences.

I told her a successful marriage takes work, compromise, a sense of humor and a reasonably high pain tolerance. Most importantly, it takes the ability to stick when things are tough. No one ever said this was going to be a walk in the park, all sunbeams, pretty pink balloons and unicorns. There is a reason fairy tales end with the phrase “and they all lived happily ever after.” They didn’t want to scare us as children.

Honestly, I’m always pleased when the span of time between moments I want to smack him with a frying pan can be measured in months instead of days. Translating that into guy language is tough, but I’m sure Eric has had similar thoughts about me. Maybe not visualizing a frying pan, but still...

Now, my original plan was to try to write a whole blog using song lyrics, but I had to stop. It was just too schmaltzy. I’ve had requests for another poem ever since my “Christmas Blizzard of ‘09” epic poetry venture, so I thought I’d try that, but I couldn’t find anything to rhyme with “Holy Crap! It’s been 24 years?”

So I guess I’ll just quote some lyrics that work for us.

“I know that I’ve got issues, but you’re pretty messed up too. Either way I’ve found out I’m nothing without you.”

And that is from a quirky song that makes me smile.

The title?

My Life Would Suck Without You. Again, it works for us.

We’ve lived through 10 years as a military family, no easy task. A kid with a chronic disease, moving a dozen times, the deaths of family and friends, raising a few smart-alecky kids, family chaos, car crashes, arguments, evil stares, rolled eyes and the occasional silent treatment.

We’ve balanced it out with buying a family home, raising a few smart-alecky kids (yes, that goes in both categories), the ability to read each others’ minds, moments of hilarity, shared laughter, love and the comfort of knowing there is one person in the world besides ourselves we can always count on.

All things considered, I’m ready to sign on for the next 24 years.

Schmaltzy? Maybe.

“But we’ll travel along, singing a song, side by side.”

Maybe I do need to get him that kazoo.

Posted by: Justine on 3/08/2010 at 4:30 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Tags: anniversary, gift, marriage, worthington

How very odd

I was driving to work the other day and I saw a metal bucket sitting in the ditch. A short distance later I saw a metal funnel, and just a bit farther there was a chunk of metal tubing.

I can only conclude that someone was driving down the road and steadily losing parts of the their moonshine-making still.

I'm sure there is another explanation, but I like that one. It makes me think of my grandparents.

Things on the side of the road always make me wonder.

For some reason, there are a lot of shoes. Why is this? If it was little kid shoes I would understand, because my kids pitched shoes out the window as a revolt against being trapped in a car seat on more than one occasion.

But the shoes on the side of the road belong to big people. What are they revolting against? And the bulk of the sneakers I see all seem to be cast-offs from the 1970s. Is there some organized group that drives around with really old sneakers and beat up work boots, tossing them off the backs of trucks?

If not, what happens when some guy gets to work, looks down and notices that somewhere along the way, his shoe fell off and flew out the window?

I sometimes see bits of tire on the side of the road, but the other day I saw a complete trailer tire, rim and all, plopped down on the shoulder. Strange. You would think the people would have noticed when they trailer they were dragging started shooting out sparks. Good thing it isn't the dry season. Our fire department had to deal with that once. Some guy pulling a camper with a flat drove down U.S. 59 shooting sparks and starting fires in ditches in his wake.

It was mildly entertaining.

On the side of the road I've seen chains and bungee cords, which make sense, along with bits of rope. When I was a kid, my father would stop and pick them up. He had a great collection of odd bits of rope, chain and mangled bungee cords. Every time he stopped my mother would roll her eyes, but she had long since given up arguing with him about it.

Next time you're driving, check out the interestng things lying nearby in the ditches and on shoulders. Let me know what you find. There's a lot of weird stuff out there, and you just know someone is at their destination with a puzzled look on their face, wondering where something went.

Posted by: jwettschreck on 3/07/2010 at 9:03 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Tags: lost, moonshine, road, shoes, travel

Chili out in Iona on Sunday

There is nothing better than a great big batch of chili. Except maybe being in a building where there are a bunch of great big batches of chili.

I love chili. I love to eat it, and make a pretty mean batch of it. In fact, my venison chili is something of a legend among some of the FishingMinnesota guys.

I love to try other people’s chili, too, so I especially love going to chili feeds and contests. I’m not a fan of really hot chili because it violates one of my food rules – food should not hurt – but a bit of zing is a good thing.

Not to knock any other chili feeds out there, because there are great ones, but my personal favorite each year is the annual St. Patrick’s Chili Contest in Iona, which is this Sunday from 10:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. at the St. Columba Hall. It is a fundraiser for the Iona Fire Department and First Responders.

I think the reason it is my favorite is because they also have soups, grilled cheese sandwiches, desserts and green beer. We go every year, and every year I walk away stuffed as a tick and wishing I had just a bit more room in my stomach because I know I missed trying something.

For the past few years, my parents have accompanied us, so we all sit there debating the merits of different chili and taking spoonfuls out of each other’s bowls. We’ve pulled total strangers into the debate, and made a few new friends in the process.

In past years we have taken whichever kids are around, and one year one of the boys made an effort to have one bowl of every kind of chili available. I thought he’d pop. I haven’t checked with Matthew yet to see if he wants to come. He isn’t much of a chili fan (odd, isn’t he?) but with soup and other stuff, he manages to put away quite a bit of food anyway.

As fire department members, my husband and I try to hit different department’s fundraisers to support their efforts. But we have gotten to a point where we actually anticipate this one and make plans around it. He and I and my parents coordinated our plan of attack last night over a beer.

Every year, as we sit in the hall stuffing our faces, my husband asks me why I didn’t enter the contest. And every year, I tell him I plan to next year.

Well, guess what? I didn’t enter it this year again, because it seems to sneak up on me.
Gather the kids, the parents, your uncle George and Grandma Sally and head over to Iona for a chili feast. Add a green beer and brownie ala mode for dessert and you’ll find the Iona St. Patrick’s Chili Contest is something you’ll want to return to again and again each year.

Hope to see you there!
 

Posted by: jwettschreck on 3/05/2010 at 11:08 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Tags: chili, fire department, fundraiser, iona, st patrick

Riding in cars with...Karen?

Covering a few extra stories for a special section called Annual Report, I have been doing an extra bit of driving lately, but I have had Karen for company.

We spend a lot of time arguing. Well, she tells me what to do and I object. Yesterday she directed my safely to the Jasper City Hall from Worthington, but when I tried to head from Jasper to Avoca, she got snippy. She was bound and determined to get there by way of Pipestone.

"Turn left now," she said.

"I don't want to go to Pipestone. Let's see where this road takes us," I replied.

"Turn left now," she insisted.

"No, I don't want to go north," I explained. "Avoca is this way."

I drove on for a little while, enjoying the relaxed feeling of not heading for another appointment. I was headed for home and supper and maybe some mindless TV.

"Turn left now," Karen instructed once more.

I gave in at one point, but after driving a few miles north, I realized it was just plain silly to go so far out of my way. A sign ahead pointed out an arrow to Chandler.

"We'll go through Chandler and Iona," I told Karen. "That makes more sense."

Karen tolerated it for a few miles, then started getting snippy.

"Turn left now," she said, and I could hear the snarl and growl in her voice.

I responded by turning up the radio and ignoring her. Then she started telling me when we were hitting curves.

"Bear left, then bear right," Karen said.

"Duh," I responded.

We got to Iona, and once again she was insisted I turn left.

"Nope," I said to her. "We're going to take County Road 4 across."

She quieted down for a bit, then commenced to telling me where to go once more.

"Turn right 400 yards ahead," she said.

"I was going to," I replied.

"Turn right," she demanded in a snippy voice.

"I am turning. Quit your bitching," I said.

We came to the S-curve on County Road 6 and Karen suggested I bear left, then right again.

"No kidding?" I replied sarcastically. "I was just going to plow through Opdahl's grove and see what happened."

After the curve, I heard "Turn right."

"No, this road is too muddy, I'll take Grace Avenue."

At the stop sign at Grace, Karen demanded I turn left.

"But my house is straight ahead!" I answered, and went forward.

I sat in my driveway mulling over what I should bring into the house.

"You have arrived at your destination."

"Yes, Karen, I know. I've lived here for 14 years."

When I walked into the house, my husband Eric asked me how it went with Karen.

"She thinks she knows everything," I complained.

He just gave me a look.

"Well, she sometimes does. But it is nice to have someone in the car to talk to," I added. "She's just very persistent."

If you haven't figured it out by now, Karen is the GPS Eric bought me for Christmas. She's a TomTom. I had been thinking about paying the few bucks to change her voice to that of Mr. T, mostly because I thought it would be amusing.

"I pity the fool who don't turn left when I tell him to!"

Oh, because I know someone will ask, the boys gave the TomTom the name Karen. She is named after the computer on Spongebob that tries to help Plankton steal the Crabby Patty recipe from Mr. Crab.

We'll see how bad Karen gets on my nerves, then maybe I'll expiriment with a few others.

Whoever ends up as the voice of my GPS, I'll probably still argue with them and fling sarcasm their way. Honestly, it is fun.

Posted by: Karen?jwettschreck on 3/04/2010 at 3:03 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Tags: avoca, chandler, directions, gps, iona, jasper, pipestone, tomtom