New Perspective

     Over the past few weeks, I've been completely engrossed in Geraldine Brooks's March. It's based on Mr. March, the father in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, and Alcott's actual father, Bronson Alcott. When I was younger, I read Little Women and even the lesser known Little Men; I watched the movie of the former with Winona Ryder and Christian Bale and the PAX TV channel series of the latter. In college, I read a young adult biography on Louisa May Alcott written from Louisa's perspective, and I watched the PBS special about Louisa's life, her family, and her writing. Just a few months ago, I enjoyed the musical version of Little Women as performed by students at the high school. I have always loved the March family. After reading Brooks's People of the Book, I was ecstatic when I found out she'd written this novel as well. And Brooks didn't let me down.

     As always, I loved hearing the story I know so well from a new perspective. I was very intrigued by the reasons Mr. March gave for heading off to the Civil War at an unusually late age, why the March family found themselves in the poverty we know from the original novel. I enjoyed getting to know Marmee before the birth of the little women and better understand the woman who told Jo that she, too, fought to keep her temper under control. Having read and watched biographies on Louisa and the entire Alcott family, I constantly drew connections between the stories and the histories, wondering what actually passed through their minds and if these fictional thoughts were anywhere near their true ones. I was thoroughly excited when an unexpected narrator entered the scene for a handful of chapters in the middle. This novel adds a new dimension to the March story that Alcott never intended to divulge, but that fed my appetite for more that I hadn't realized existed until the opportunity presented itself.

    Many of the passages about teaching stood out to me, especially because I finished the book as I finished my fifth year of teaching. In history, Bronson Alcott rubbed elbows with the Transcendentalists, and he was passionate about the educational process. In the story, Mr. March said that while teaching, his "objective was to awaken their [the students'] hearts to the ideas dormant there, rather than implant facts into their memory" (p. 142). Here he speaks of teaching those who were considered contraband during the Civil War -- people who had been slaves but whom the Union forces had freed; although living a lot far different than my students, I feel a responsibility to accomplish the same goal. I see so much more to accomplish with my students than teaching them the correct steps of graphing a polynomial equation, much more that involves what is within my students already. Marmee reminds Mr. March, too, that, "[t]he education you gave to so many, that cannot be taken away" (p. 257). Not only do I take comfort in that thought, but I also think back to the earlier quote...the content we tackle beyond standards-based instruction is probably the material that will remain even when the quadratic formula has faded. And this is what I need to remember on the difficult days, on the days when I wonder what exactly is going on in my classroom. In all I do, I aim to awaken dormant ideas about students' self-perception, students' perception of one another, and students' perception of the rest of the world.

     As the army chaplain, Mr. March also deals with matters of the spirit, as did Mr. Alcott in his day. Here, though, Brooks speaks through the character Grace Clement, a former slave who faced demons Mr. March can hardly fathom. She tells him,

        "I do not ask your absolution. I simply ask you to see that there is only one thing to do when we fall, 

        and that is to get up, and go on with the life that is set in front of us, and try to do the good of which 

        our hands are capable for the people who come in our way. That, at least, has been my path" (p. 268).

Sometimes I read a passage and find myself thinking, "This is my heart. These are the words I've been looking for to describe my aim." I suppose that is why I preferred majoring in English literature and not creative writing; I take great comfort in knowing someone else out there feels or thinks the way I do. This is how I felt when I read Grace's clarification for Mr. March. As a recovering perfectionist, the standing back up part is most difficult, but focusing on doing good for others does help with the motivation to do so.

     As I read the final pages, I was sad to leave the March family once again. I'd slipped back into their world, unexpectedly, and I enjoyed it as I always have. I think I understand Laurie a little bit from the original novel, who frankly tells Jo that he simply knew he was supposed to be a part of their family; Brooks's novel has helped me do just that once again.

Next up, my report from China!...

Following a book

Today I finally finished Geraldine Brook's novel People of the Book. The novel traces the story of a real Jewish book called the Sarajevo Haggadah, giving fictional accounts of fictional characters throughout its history and telling how it survived over six centuries of catastrophe. I think it is brilliant -- I love stories with multiple narrators, with many different nooks and crannies in the plot where characters' thoughts, emotions, and actions can attempt to hide. The narrators each had unique voices, and their stories were more than believable; they drew me in and made me think about the atrocious events in the Jewish people's history. Sadly, many (if not all) of those events were hatched and carried out in the name of my own faith -- although I cannot understand how people could twist a faith based on love into such torturous claims and actions. I loved how, in the grand scheme of things, the book was a mere bystander in six unique stories of understanding identity, accepting diversity, and conserving individuals' personal histories.

After reading some pieces of their stories, I felt like I needed to put the book down and let what just happened soak in a bit. Violence occurred again and again, but the plot kept moving at such a pace that I felt like I hadn't given the characters enough of my time, my condolences perhaps, before moving on. Brooks' ability to foster that kind of feeling is amazing -- because that is what truly happens in reality -- horrible things happen, and the clock keeps ticking. People might stop to reflect, to cope, but time keeps moving, and sooner or later, we're forced to pick the book back up and see what happens next, whether we're ready to or not. I'm very impressed with Brooks in that regard, and I wonder if she even realizes that her story can have that kind of effect on her readers.

Brooks also wrote two more books I'd like to read: March, the Little Women story told from the father's perspective; and Year of Wonders, a story about the plague in Europe. Brooks won the Pulitzer for March, so I'm sure I'll enjoy them as much as I did People.

Next up, though, is a book my students read for World History and a recommendation from one. I'm also working on my 3+ poems for the annual JHS poetry slam, which is in two weeks. I'm trying to decide if I want to keep my topics funny or make them a bit more serious. Probably funny. My kids really want me to read the "Ms. Arnold-isms" poem, but I keep telling them that people who don't have me in class wouldn't understand how often I really say those things. They're really excited about adding new lines to that poem that I missed last year.