Grandpa at the movies

The Academy Award nominations were announced yesterday and I'm already placing my bets on a number of Oscars.  One of the perks of retirement has to be time for movie going, assuming you can afford it.  Even though the days of 50 cent Saturday matinees (and 25 cents for a gallon of gas) have gone the way of civil public discourse, most folks can still come up with the price of a movie ticket, even old folks.  That's apparent in the fact that in 2009, at the height of the housing and banking collapse, the number of movie tickets sold worldwide jumped to an all-time high--over 1.4 billion sold-- a record 5% above the previous year's total.  Bad times bring people to the movies.

The other perk of being an Old Fart, I've discovered, is that suddenly everyone wants your business again, and they'll make crazy offers to get you in the door or onboard ship.  For example, all of the multiplex cinemas offer senior discounts.  The AMC art house near us has senior Tuesdays with admission only $6.  I consider that a bargain, compared to the regular $11 admission fee,  even though I remember when a dollar from mom would get me in the theater door with enough left over for a box of Milk Duds and a bag of popcorn.

I haven't seen all of this year's nominees in any category.  On my list of the Best Picture nominees to see still  are Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (panned by local critic Ann Hornaday), The Tree of Life, and War Horse.  I'd also like to catch My Week with Marilyn and The Iron Lady, and have heard much about the Iranian film, A Separation, which will probably hang around local theaters longer than usual due to its nomination in the Best Foreign Film category.

Of the flicks I've seen so far, I have some favorites.  That doesn't mean they will win an Oscar, but they did pick me up or make me laugh or stick with me beyond 100 minutes of screen time.  It's too early for predictions, really, but what the heck.  Isn't that the fun of Oscar night anyway--rooting for the movies and performances you loved, even if you haven't seen the competition:

Best Picture:  I'm pulling for The Artist.  A black and white silent film scoring an Oscar in 2012?  Not likely.  But the movie had my attention from title to credits.  If for nothing other than daring, it deserves a nod from the Academy, and that may be exactly what the Best Picture nomination is all about and nothing more.  But, I wouldn't rule it out as a winner.  Depending on modern actors to carry a story with nothing beyond gesture and facial expression is asking a lot.   Yet that is precisely what the leads in The Artist accomplish.  Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo both are expressive actors, totally comfortable with the physical demands of their roles.  This is made even more emphatically apparent at the end of the film when the pair, smiles beaming, perform a joyous final tap dance number reminiscent of the great Hollywood hoofers.

Best Actor:  Of the five nominees, I have seen four--all except Demian Bichir in A Better Life, which I can't find playing anywhere in the area.  George Clooney is George Clooney in The Descendants, although he is forced to move beyond his usual persona as the suave cynic in a couple of scenes.  Likewise, Brad Pitt is Brad Pitt, firmly in charge but aware of his limitations, playing Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland baseball Athletics in Moneyball.  Of the remaining two movies, the performances are so unlike each other that it is impossible to elevate either Jean Dujardin (The Artist) or Gary Oldman (Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) on comparative merit.  I'll go with Oldman, whose performance as George Smiley is controlled and understated, but never seems to waver in intensity.  He carries the movie without once drifting into the "Look at me" bravado that characterizes plenty of other actors in similar roles.

Best Actress:  Of the 2 nominees that I have seen (Viola Davis in The Help, Rooney Mara in The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo), both are deserving of an Oscar with a slight edge to Davis.  I hope to see Meryl Streep (The Iron Lady) and Michelle Williams (My Week with Marilyn) in the next week or two.  I probably won't see Glenn Close in Albert Nobbs, unless the popular buzz (not the Hollywood promotion machine) on that movie's behalf makes it impossible to ignore.  No pick yet.



Supporting Actor:  Of the 5 nominees in this category, I've only seen Jonah Hill in Moneyball, another understated performance.  "Understated" seems to be the operative term this year (see Gary Oldman), as well as "Silent" (isn't Max von Sydow's character in Extremely Close a mute?).   Whassup with that?  Maybe we're exhausted already from the noise of the presidential campaigns.  Besides von Sydow, the other nominees are Kenneth Branagh in My Week with Marilyn, Nick Nolte in Warrior, and Christopher Plummer in Beginners.


Supporting Actress:  Having seen 4 of the 5 nominees, I'm going to make a leap and predict that one of the two actresses from The Help will take home an Oscar in this category--either Jessica Chastain or Octavia Spencer.   My wife had to drag me to this movie, by the way, which she had seen before and was willing to see again.  I'll admit to not only liking it, but to rooting for all of the plucky female characters and against the villainous female bigot, whose character had the least depth but then, as a foil for everyone else, she probably didn't need all that much.  Other nominees are Melissa McCarthy (by far the funniest performance of the year in Bridesmaids), Berenice Bejo (The Artist) and Janet McTeer (Albert Nobbs).

Animated Feature:  My favorite category, having grown up on Disney flicks.  If two of the nominees (A Cat in Paris and Chico & Rita) have played anywhere in the DC area, I'm not aware of it.  The other 3 all made the multiplexes, which doesn't diminish what they have to offer--both visual and storytelling impact.  Kudos to Panda 2 and Puss in Boots, both derivative but entertaining.  My grandkids know the characters and best lines from their prequel movies better than their bedtime stories, and I know they'll enjoy these sequels when they are released on DVD.  My vote goes, though, to the original Rango--a weird combination of slapstick, gunslinging, eco-terrorism, and science fiction.  Plus, almost anything with Johnny Depp catches my interest.

The other award categories are drowned out by the sound of mutual back-slapping among industry technicians and insiders.  The decision made a couple of years ago to hand out some of the technical Oscars prior to the televised show has put these awards where they belong.  Serious movie buffs can slug it out in the chat rooms on their own time, about who deserved the flim editing or makeup prize.  But leave them out of Oscar night.  That's when I want the jokes and music and glitter--just like at the movies.

Who will govern us all ?

It's presidential election time.  Feel free to shudder at the thought.  Fortunately, the hardcore media blitz has barely touched us here in Virginia, across from the nation's capital.  Republican primary states have been getting the worst of it so far.  But, the campaigns and their henchmen, hiding behind the cloak of "action committees," will inevitably blanket us with the same invective that unfortunately characterizes certain brands of political discourse of late.

My impression is that all of the clamor and rhetoric seem particularly divisive and mean-spirited this time around.  (I'm aware that nasty slurs and ad hominum attacks have always been a part of American politics.  Read what the press and opponents had to say about John Adams or even Thomas Jefferson.)  But, I haven't given up on our electorate or those who govern us.  There are good people in government at all levels and good people who make the choices that elect them.   The key in this election, I believe, will be moving beyond the rhetoric to focus on one simple question:  Who will govern us all ?

Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, Eugene Robinson, in this morning's Washington Post, addressed that question while examining the inflammatory rhetoric of the current crop of Republican presidential hopefuls.  With so many challenges facing people in this economy and at this point in our nation's history (jobs, unemployment, balancing the budget, the collapse of our social safety net, a widening economic and social divide, the nuclear arming of Iran, our role in Afghanistan, etc.), Robinson questions why Republican candidates spend more time railing about "defeating this president" than addressing our national issues.

Their stump speeches and campaign literature drum away on the theme, "We've got to take this country back."  I've heard more of this kind of apocalyptic language from Republican candidates--and a good bit of the same from the far left--in this election cycle than ever before.  The world is coming to an end, they shout, unless we send to the White House and Congress an army of right-thinking, self-righteous, government-dismantling firebrands, who will build on the "My way or the highway" approach that has so successfully brought our legislative process to a stalemate for the last two years.

"We've got to take this country back."  The question is, take it back from whom?  And for whom?  As Robinson asks, "Who is in possession of this country of yours?  And what makes it yours, not theirs?"   What has happened, he wonders (and I wonder) to the notion that this is our country?

Arthur Schlesinger's 1991 book, The Disuniting of America:  Reflections on a Multicultural Society, prefigures this loggerheads.  In it he expresses his fears for the American democratic system, because of its attack by those who would elevate personal or group identity above national identity.  Although he was referring mainly to ethnic minorities, his thesis certainly applies to our political times.  Every day another splinter group emerges.  We appear to be breaking into tribes, armed for battle to the death at every little insult.  I am alarmed by parents who scream cultural or physical "genocide" when their children are exposed to something with which they disagree--an idea that does not fit their limited view of the world (evolution, global warming, a religious faith unlike their own, baked goods with too much sugar, schools that mix their obviously gifted children with "those kids who don't want to learn").  Look around.  There are plenty of places in the world where people have broken into enclaves, rigid tribes that refuse to budge a centimeter on any issue, spewing hatred towards anyone unlike themselves.  We cannot afford to do the same.

There is hope, especially given our democratic tradition.  As Schlesigner notes, our country has absorbed people from every corner of the globe, from every class, from every religion.  We have managed 200-plus years of the peaceful transfer of power through a democratic political process.  How has this been possible?  The answer is instructive for our times:  By what we share as a people taking precedence over what divides us.  What we share (or at least have shared, for the most part, up until recently) are a set of values expressed most poignantly by our founding documents (Declaration of Independence, Constitution and Bill of Rights) and by our most honored president, Abraham Lincoln, in his speeches and inaugural addresses.  Life.  Liberty.  Equality.  Freedom of expression.  Freedom of religion.

We hear these terms bandied about by candidates, but they are being used to mean life, liberty and freedom for us on our terms; and certainly not for those who do not look or think or act like we do.  It's our heritage and we don't want to share it with homosexuals, Muslims, immigrants (legal or not), socialists, or anyone who will ask us to restrain our own behavior in any way (gun control, regulation of financial institutions or industry) for the good of the community.

Why is it that these values are so distorted during our electoral process?  What we need, more than ever right now, is someone who can transcend the accepted wisdom that getting elected in America depends on appealing to the basest fears of the electorate.  Someone who can remind us that our diversity is an asset, not a liability.  That we can work together to build a better nation, instead of shouting that those who disagree with us are responsible for the destruction of civilization.  We need candidates to remind us that our common values make it possible for us to stand behind our elected leaders, once the rancor of the campaign has ended.

I have been lucky enough to live and travel outside of the U. S. most of my adult life.  There's nothing like travel abroad to give you some perspective when you return home.  We complain about government intruding into our lives.  But spend some time in mainland China or Nepal, Burma or Nicaragua if you want to see what it's like to live under a government that treats you badly if you are not aligned with the ruling autocrat/dictator/oligarchy.  The elected and appointed officials in our government--all branches and at all levels, from local to national--may not stand for much of anything you hold personally important.  And their decisions may result in policies with which you disagree or even find reprehensible.  But, because we have a tradition of rule of law, equal treatment, and democratic elections--no matter how flawed they may be--we can wake each morning knowing that jack-booted soldiers will not be knocking at our door to haul us off to prison without cause, never to be heard from again, no matter what the fearmongers are spewing on Fox News.

If talk show bloviators and paranoid politicians tell you otherwise, stop a minute and look around.  We are still the most prosperous nation on earth.  Our universities attract students from every corner of the world.  Immigrants leave family and friends to start new lives within our borders, because we offer them the chance to realize their dreams in a country free of tyranny and full of opportunity.

Former U. S. Representative and ambassador to India in 2009, Tim Roemer, writes about how deeply admired the United States continues to be worldwide.  True, he notes, we have problems:  millions of Americans out of work, an enormous trade deficit, news stories that chronicle the latest scandal of greed and corruption, a Congress paralyzed by partisanship.  But having lived and travelled abroad, he knows that all countries face similar challenges, many much worse.  What we need to be reminded of is our shared values and our resiliency.  We can deal with this moment in history, as we have dealt with others.

Our "decline" as a nation is largely imagined, he says, because of the pain we currently feel for our circumstances.  Others simply do not see us in that light.  Roemer reports on students abroad still eager to enroll in our colleges, entrepreneurs eager to tap into our markets, capable immigrant technicians headed for Silicon Valley.  We are still the nation of innovation and problem-solving, as reflected in the number of Nobel Prizes we garner.  Our government has invested in vital research, such as that which developed the internet, and has kept our national infrastructure strong.  (Drive on the roads in Costa Rica or Nepal if you want to see what limited federal government looks like.)

I retain hope that we will stay true to the belief that this is a country where change is possible.  Hurrah for the Occupy and Tea Party movements, no matter whether I subscribe to what they espouse.  Kudos to the watchdogs (like my friend Phil) who attend hearings, gather legal advice, monitor behavior, and rail against unsafe industry practices in oil and gas exploration, manufacturing, drug and food production.  A round of applause for all of those who say "We can do better."  All I would add to their slogans is, "We can do better together."

We must continue to be a place where differences--of opinion, of religion, of politics, of lifestyle--are acknowledged, but where common values make it possible for us to live together in peace.  When we face decline in these values, then we have truly lost our way.  I do not think we are there yet.

In praise of less praise

Late in my teaching career, a sophomore in one of my English classes had made exceptional strides in her writing and understanding of literature.  She was a new citizen, still learning the language, so she worked extra hard at her studies.  Her work habits made it evident that she would be successful in whatever she attempted, both in school and beyond.  In her self-evaluation at the end of that school year, she was proud of what she had accomplished and wrote:  "This year in your class I have increased my self of steam."

That innocent, well-intended phrase still makes me smile.  She was a good sport and confident enough to laugh at herself when I showed her how to correctly spell self-esteem during her final evaluation conference.  I count her as one of those success stories you cherish as a teacher.  I still remember where she sat and how she never took her eyes off the speaker in class, whether teacher or fellow student.  But what sticks with me as much is the image she inadvertently coined.  Oddly, it conjures up not just its intended meaning, but also an opposing vision.  I hear egos deflated when I think of it, confidence hissing away like air escaping from a balloon.  This is a tough and fragile business, this belief in yourself.  I know.  I have seen too many youngsters gain confidence, only to lose it all with a single failure or an unkind word from a teasing classmate.  Self of steam.

The concept of self-esteem as a necessary underpinning for productive behavior gained prominence the same year (1969) I entered graduate studies in Secondary Education.  That was the year Nathaniel Branden, a Canadian-born psychologist and sometime romantic partner of Ayn Rand, published his book, The Psychology of Self Esteem.   In it he argued that healthy self-regard is a basic human need and that without it people are more prone to self- and socially-destructive behavior (e.g. anxiety, depression, violence).  His work led eventually to the National Association for Self Esteem in the 1980's.  Although Branden's practices and beliefs about self esteem became more nuanced over time, they were misinterpreted from the start.  The pop culture understanding of his ideas led to praise for praise's sake, and an industry of cheap trophies for every member of  every youth soccer league in America--even for kids with two left feet.

The notion that self-esteem is a pre-requisite for healthy, productive behavior found especially fertile ground in schools, shaping expectations for how teachers should treat children.  Praise for even the smallest accomplishments became a staple of accepted pedagogy in the 1970's and continues to influence classroom practice today.  I know it had an impact on how I thought about myself as a teacher early in my career.  A part of my role, I believed, was to encourage the discouraged.  Build up their confidence so they could engage with my subject matter.  I tried to look for any positive behaviors--even minimal effort, diligence, interest, cooperation, a paper (no matter how lousy) handed in on time, a comment in class discussion (no matter how inane)--and praise them highly.

But I was predisposed even then to be suspicious of too much praise for a couple of reasons and became almost immediately more sparing with my compliments, although not with my encouragement.   I was raised in the old school where praise (if given at all) was for what you did, not for what you could do.  My taciturn mother gave only a nod for things well done, rarely more, although it was easy enough to tell when she was proud of me or my brother.  I was also prone to self-criticism even as a youngster.  The final word is still to be spoken on whether that was a genetic or learned inclination.  But the fact of the matter is that I found my own flaws quite early on and worked hard to hide or overcome at least the ones that I was aware of.  My mindset (more on that term later) was to dismiss praise for something I had done or said or written. feeling that I could always do better or that my praiseworthy deeds paled in comparison to others more deserving.

Educators and parents, it seems, have also begun to question the value of excessive praise.  How much praise is enough?  When should it be given, if ever?  What consequences does praise have for how we view ourselves and our abilities?  Does praise affect different people in different ways?

Stanford psychologist Carol Dweck has spent decades exploring facets of those question.  The premise of her book, Mindset, is that our beliefs about intelligence and talent influence the way we respond to encouragement and failure.  She has found that our "mindset" is a significant factor in whether we enjoy success in whatever we attempt.  I have just begun reading the book after it was mentioned in a recent article in the Washington Post [1] about brain research, debunking the notion that building self-esteem in students is imperative if they are to have the confidence to learn.  As Dweck puts it, researchers over the past 3 decades have discovered that you can't "hand children self-esteem on a platter."

Empty praise is particularly deadly for youngsters.  But, so is praise that rewards children for being "clever" or "intelligent."  What studies have found, quoted in the Post article, is that children "rewarded for being smart become more likely to shy away from hard assignments that might tarnish their star reputations."

What works is praise for "trying hard or taking risks," especially if it is accompanied by an explanation of how our brains literally grow with new learning.  That puts accomplishment in the hands of the learner, who realizes that sticking with even a difficult or frustrating task can help create new neural pathways.  It can make you smarter.  And it implants the notion that learning is a lifelong process, fueled by curiosity and the satisfaction that comes with each new bit of skill, information and understanding.  In short, our mindset about the nature of learning makes a difference in how, and even whether, we learn.

I have heard this expressed in a slightly different form as an explanation for why some cultures produce more female scientists and mathematicians than the U. S.  In America, the explanation goes, we believe that some people are born with talent and intelligence and others are not.   In this mindset, the die is cast early on, so effort by the untalented is futile.  Remember the Barbie dolls programmed to say, "I'm not good at math"?  Sadly, I often heard that excuse or something similar ("I'm not a writer") voiced by children of both sexes when they came upon an academic challenge that moved them out of their comfort zone.  In Asia, by contrast, effort is what counts.  If you work hard at something--spend hours in tutoring beyond classroom time, for example--you can master it.   That is true for boys and girls.

Although these are both oversimplifications of cultural attitudes, the second "mindset" is much closer to the truth.  What research shows time after time is that intelligence is malleable.  Labeling a handful of students "gifted" early on or saying that girls are not good at math discredits the potential of an enormous number of kids, most of whom have the capacity to learn as much or more than their supposedly more intelligent peers.  And it really does no service to those in gifted programs either, who often become praise junkies, dependent on outside validation of their accomplishments.  Hearing constant praise (which can morph into self-praise) for mediocre work--especially for effort that merely repeats what is already mastered rather than risks covering new ground--can lead to a false sense of ability, such as those American students who reported themselves as good at math, and yet scored much lower than their peers from other nations on standardized measures.

What all students can prosper from, according to Dweck, is praise that "encourages risk-taking and learning from failure . . . experiences that make way for invention, creativity, and resilience."   We need students to build up a head of steam to power themselves through life and learning.  Like the boilers of old, their cerebral engines need to be constantly fed by the fuel of curiosity and intellectual challenge.  They need a mindset which says, with effort I can learn.  And we need to reserve our praise for effort that produces instructive failure and real success.

[1] Chandler, M. A., "Telling kids they're great isn't so good, schools find," Washington Post, 16 Jan. 2012.  

Taking care of grandkids

I've written elsewhere about the prime directive of grand-parenting--namely, that when you tire of the little darlings, you can always send them back to mom and dad.  This is a topic that has been on my mind since the holidays.

Like every generalization, exceptions contradict the norm.  We have friends in their late 60's who have become legal guardians for a grandson, who is now about 7 years old.  The child's father, our friend's son from her first marriage, has battled drug addiction since his adolescence.  Both son and grandson live with them, although the son bounces in and out of the house as a result of time spent on binges, with various women, and occasionally in jail.  As for the grandson, he is a sweet kid who has his ornery moments as would be expected of any little boy.  For his grandparents--his legal guardians--there is no "sending back" when fatigue sets in or patience wears thin, a responsibility they bear with determined goodwill.  They will be in their late 70's by the time he graduates from high school.

An aunt and uncle of mine raised five of their grandchildren during the 1950's and 60's.  Their daughter, my cousin, first handed over 3 young daughters to her parents, who were at the time in their early 40's.  My uncle worked as a janitor in the local junior high school, his modest single income supporting the entire brood.  To me he was the eye of the hurricane, sitting in his recliner-rocker smoking his pipe, rarely saying much unless spoken to.  My aunt sewed clothes, cooked, and jabbered away from sunrise to bedtime, raising her granddaughters with alternating strictness and charity.  About the time the granddaughters were finally off to lives of their own, two more of their siblings arrived, a half-sister and brother from a second relationship for my cousin, who was still ill-equipped to raise her own children.  So my aunt and uncle housed and fed and scolded and loved another batch of grandkids.  Looking back, I marvel at my uncle's equanimity and can hardly blame my aunt for her alternating crankiness and good humor.  She and her husband did what they had to do, without complaint, at least as far as I ever heard.

We had a taste of their experiences while we were in Colorado visiting our son's family over the holidays. My son's wife, who has been battling demons of her own for quite some time, finally sought help a few days after Christmas and was in residential care for almost two weeks.  She and our son have also been battling each other and their marriage appears to be in jeopardy--not a good situation for them or their four young kids.   With mom out of the picture for 10 days, we suddenly became the grandparents in charge, their full-time caretakers during our son's workdays.  We also pitched in to help clean up their house, which had slipped into chaos as a result of their parents' unhappiness with each other and themselves.  My wife had to fly back to work shortly after Christmas, but I stayed a week beyond New Year's to take care of the kids while our son worked and to help return the household to some semblance of order before his wife returned from her incapacitation.

The lessons I wrote about earlier when describing our Christmas decorating routine helped me to not only survive, but also to enjoy my week alone with the grandkids.  First, I set some simple rules, and second, I made keeping them a way for the kids to do their part to help things run smoothly.  As I noted before, most children thrive on routine and welcome responsibilities they can perform.  So I simply asked for help and they gave it:  No eating except at the kitchen table.  That helped keep the cracker crumbs and half-eaten bananas out of the rug and couches or wherever else a one or two or three or five-year-old might drop them while wandering the house.  It also made room-by-room clean up possible.  The kids were shown how to clean up after themselves in the basement toy room and in their bedrooms.  Everyone picks up 5 toys at the end of playtime.  Toys go back in the buckets and on the shelves when done.  Dirty laundry goes in the laundry basket in your bedroom.  Trash goes in the wastebaskets I bought for every room in the house.  Dirty dishes and silverware go in the dishwasher after meals or snacks.  The two oldest also love to help cook and even clean, at least for short bursts, so I always had volunteers when I asked for assistance with breakfast or lunch or even a bathroom scrubbing.

I set up a daily schedule and stuck to it, which included delivery and pick up at school and morning daycare, time for homework and sharing about what the oldest did in kindergarten, time for help with laundry, time for one or two children's TV shows, play times, nap time, meal times.  Within a couple of days, I could see all four kids relax and fall into a routine.  There were opportunities for plenty of laughter and playing together, mostly on their own but sometimes with grandpa included.  After the first couple of days, I barely heard a squeak when I asked everyone to sit at the table for a meal or snack, or announced it was time to pick up toys or read together or brush teeth or put on pajamas.  The four kids play amazingly well together, although the occasional tug-of-war over a toy or bonk on the head occurs.  When I heard, "Grandpa, she won't let me have . . ." I responded with my dad's favorite line:  "You guys work it out yourself."  That solved the problem 90% of the time.

I'm not pretending that parenting is an easy job.  As my wife always jokes, "That's why you have kids when you're young."  It takes energy and stamina and patience and discipline to go along with love.  We certainly love our grandchildren and enjoy their company.   But, we have no desire to be responsible for raising them as a second family at our age, although we would undertake the task if absolutely necessary, as have so many grandparents before us and as do millions of grandparents now.  Data from the 2007 census counts 6.2 million grandparents in the United States who have grandchildren younger than 18 living with them.   Of that number, 2.5 million are entirely responsible for these children's food, clothing, and shelter.  Over 700 thousand of them suffer from some disability themselves, while also caring for grandkids.   Seen from another perspective, the census reported 4.4 million children living full-time in a grandparent's home.

After 10 days caring for four little ones, I came home from Denver  5 pounds lighter, exhausted and sore, although it broke my heart to leave them as it always does--even when they just come visit for the day.  I admire my friends and relatives and the millions of others who have taken on the challenge of raising grandchildren.  I hope that my wife and I will continue to be a large part of our grandchildren's lives, but we're also hoping that my son and his wife can "work it out" for themselves so that they can raise their own family and so that we can enjoy their children often and send them home after a visit with grandma and grandpa.