In honor of Ruth Krauss’s 117th birthday (today, which she would have celebrated as her 107th birthday), here’s a photo you likely have not seen before. It appeared in the May 12, 1951 issue of the Herald Tribune Book News, which described Krauss’s latest book (I Can Fly, illustrated by Mary Blair) as follows: “Very small girl pretends to be every sort of creature. Amusing rhymed text, beautiful full color. For 3 to 5 years.” I don’t know when the photo was taken, though I think it is roughly contemporaneous. She has this hairstyle in the 1940s and 1950s. I do know that I have never seen this photo reproduced anywhere else.
In 1951, Krauss was the author of one massive hit — The Carrot Seed (1945), illustrated by Crockett Johnson (also her husband) — and The Happy Day (1949), which won a Caldecott Honor for Marc Simont’s artwork. Of her other seven books from that period (1944-1951), only The Backward Day (1950, also illustrated by Simont) and Bears (1948, illus. by Phyllis Rowand) are remembered today. And Bears is known primarily for Maurice Sendak’s re-illustrated version, published in 2005.
Also in 1951, the 50-year-old Krauss met the 23-year-old Sendak (pictured above), who was then an F.A.O. Schwarz window display artist who had illustrated two books for Harper. The meeting would transform both of their careers. He would illustrate eight of her books, often spending weekends at her Connecticut home, where she and Johnson — as Sendak says — “became my weekend parents and took on the job of shaping me into an artist.”
Their first collaboration was the cultural phenomenon A Hole Is to Dig (1952, from which you can see a two-page spread, above this sentence). Their second was A Very Special House (1953), which won Sendak a Caldecott Honor — his first of many. They would collaborate on eight books between 1952 and 1960. More importantly, their collaborations officially launched Sendak’s career as the great 20th-century artist for children.
Krauss could not have known any of that when this photo was published. Nor could she guess that, though she and Sendak would later have a bit of a falling out, he would come to visit her during her final year of life. Because he needed to tell her how much she meant to him. And to kiss her goodbye.
This photo of Ruth, sitting cross-legged on the grass, captures her youthfulness — a youthfulness that allowed her to lie convincingly about her age well into her old age. It also evokes her affinity for children: she liked to sit with them, and listen as they told stories. Because she treated them as her equals, children accepted her into their community. They would talk or play, and she would listen. And take notes.
There are many posts on this blog tagged Ruth Krauss or Maurice Sendak. In honor of her birthday, why not read a few? And, of course, you can learn more about them both in my biography of Krauss and Crockett Johnson — check it out of your local library today!
Source for press clippings (at top of post): Betty Hahn, wife of Ruth’s cousin Richard Hahn and a very important source for her (Ruth’s) early years, sent me these. Thanks, Betty! Source for photo of Sendak in his 20s: The year before he passed away, Maurice sent me a scan of this photo for use in my bio. (I’d asked for a photo of him at the time he met Ruth.)
1. The Trump regime feels threatened by crying children because they — and all refugees — refute the Trumpist/fascist lie that humanity depends upon citizenship.
2. As Hannah Arendt wrote of refugees, they “have lost all distinctive political qualities,” “lost all other qualities and relationships—except that they [are] still human.”
3. Refugees and asylum-seekers embody our shared humanity. They prove that humanity does not depend upon nationality. They prove that Trump is a liar and a bigot.
4. We already have ample proof that he is both liar and bigot, but my point is that Trumpists fear refugees because (to paraphrase Agamben) they expose the fiction of nationhood.
5. Refugees and asylum-seekers expose the immorality of basing human rights on nationhood, and challenge not only nationalism but the nation-state itself.
7. We should not be fooled by yesterday’s photo-op. Trump will continue his cruelty. He will keep separating families. He has NOT changed his policy. Don’t take my word for it. Read the text of his executive order. https://t.co/PNdpWlwVfT
8. It affirms the policy of “detaining alien families together where appropriate and consistent with law and available resources” — notice that “together” is qualified by “where appropriate” and “available resources,” thus allowing more separation.
9. Note also that “Alien family” means a “person’s alien child or alien children” and “alien child” means people under the age of 18 who are “not a citizen or national of the United States.”
11. And there are NO provisions for reuniting children with their families. The U.S. government is not even tracking them. (How is an infant supposed to find its mother or father?) #FamiliesBelongTogetherhttps://t.co/ABFR4QBaBX
14. Call your senators and congresspeople. This is the Capitol Switchboard number: (202) 224-3121. Or, better, call the local office: https://t.co/zKOYKukIg8
21. As @sarahkendzior says, “Do not accept brutality and cruelty as normal even if it is sanctioned. Protect the vulnerable and encourage the afraid.”https://t.co/o4AJ04O3pz
22. Long-term advice. Remember to VOTE in November, and know that the recent #SCOTUS ruling will make it harder for you to vote. So check the laws in your state, and be prepared to fight for your right.https://t.co/bx1LzCIFlZ
25. Why not send a formal complaint now?
Attention: Office Information and Evidence Unit, Office of the Prosecutor
The International Criminal Court
Post Office Box 19519
2500 CM The Hague
The Netherlands
or EMAIL: otp.informationdesk@icc-cpi.int
or FAX: +31 70 515 8555.
This fall, I am teaching English 545: Literature for Adolescents on-line for the first time. That is, this is the first time I’m teaching the course on-line. It’s the umpteenth time I’ve taught the course, and the second time I’ve taught on-line.
One thing I learned from teaching on-line this past spring: Build the entire course before the term begins. And, yes, I learned that because I failed to do it. So, I am building it now. This week, I finished the curriculum for the first two weeks. In case others may find it useful, I’m sharing that below. (Scroll down.)
A word or two about what’s not in this blog post. Missing are the ensuing discussion, my responses to students’ responses, quizzes, my responses to the quizzes, the full syllabus, and resources on the course’s Canvas site. In other words, this is a partial representation of those first couple of weeks.
Here are the main literary texts we will read:
Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak.
M.T. Anderson, Feed.
Kristin Cashore, Graceling.
Cherie Dimaline, The Marrow Thieves.
Nancy Farmer, The House of the Scorpion.
Kiese Laymon, Long Division.
E. Lockhart, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks.
Malinda Lo, Ash.
Walter Dean Myers, Monster.
Benjamin Alire Saenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye.
Francisco X. Stork, Marcello in the Real World.
Angie Thomas, The Hate You Give.
Jacqueline Woodson, After Tupac & D. Foster.
Ibi Zoboi, American Street.
There will also be a few versions of “Cinderella” (both in preparation for Malinda Lo’s Ash and to get students thinking about the “YA” in many fairy tales), and a few secondary texts, all of which I will either link to or provide a pdf (available via Canvas). I’m really excited about the novels, three of which are from 2017 — and thus I’m teaching them for the very first time. I’m also teaching Ash (2009) for the first time.
I never teach a class exactly the same way twice. I’m always trying to improve. Now that I’m teaching on-line, I am also trying to improve my skills as a creator of videos! That learning curve is represented below: the second video is (I think) the weakest, and video #1 has some strengths but needs snappier editing. By three and four, the edits are improving. And the fifth (the first one on E. Lockhart’s Frankie Landau-Banks) is the best thus far.
WEEK 1
week #1, discussion #1: Intro.
I’ll repeat the questions from the video below.
1. What’s your name? And what do you prefer to be called?
2. Where are you from? And where are you located now, while you’re taking this class?
3. Here are our course’s objectives. Listen to them because at the end, I will ask you (A) which of our course objectives are you most looking forward to meeting? And (B) which objective do you think will be the most challenging for you?
This class will introduce you to a range of literature for adolescents, and develop your critical skills in reading these works. We will study works that feature adolescent characters, depict experiences familiar to adolescents, and are taught to or read by adolescents. We will approach these works from a variety of critical perspectives (including formalist, psychoanalytic, queer theory, feminist, Marxist, historical, postcolonial, ecological) — perspectives that many high schools want their teachers to know. In summary, this course will be about different kinds of literature read by young adults, approaches to thinking about this literature, and adolescence’s relationship to power. We will develop these skills via writing a once-weekly journal, participating in class discussions, taking a weekly quiz, and completing these and any other assignments on time.
Now that you know the course’s objectives, (A) which of our course objectives are you most looking forward to meeting? And (B) which objective do you think will be the most challenging for you? (C) Do you have any other objectives? If so, please list them.
4. Your adolescence is very likely far more recent than mine. And yet I know that high school and college are different — that you have very likely changed at least a little since high school… and possibly quite a lot. So, my third question is this. Describe your adolescence in one word. And why do you choose that word to describe your adolescence? The why is important.
5. Have you taken an on-line class before?
Format for answer: VIDEO
week #1, discussion #2: Adolescence, YA Literature, and… J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye (through Chapter 10)
Part I: Adolescence & YA Literature
Repeating (below) the questions from the video (above) —
1. What is adolescence?
2. What are the social characteristics of adolescence?
3. Drawing on Lee Talley’s essay, what is “Young Adult”?
Format for answer: TEXT
Part II: J. D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye (1951), through Chapter 10
Those two questions I asked you on day 1 — now is the time to answer them.
1. On page 1, Holden tells us “I had to come out here and take it easy.” Where is here? From where is he narrating this story? And how do you know? Beyond the quotation I called your attention to, offer a supporting quotation or quotations from the text that tells you where he is when he is telling the story (as opposed to where he is when it happens).
2. Once more, M.H. Abrams’ classic definition of the unreliable narrator:
The fallible or unreliable narrator is one whose perception, interpretation, and evaluation of the matters he or she narrates do not coincide with the implicit opinions and norms manifested by the author, which the author expects the alert reader to share. (A Glossary of Literary Terms, 6th ed., p. 168)
And… I asked you to track Holden’s unreliability. So. offer a couple of examples where you see the narrator’s perception in tension with those “implicit opinions and norms” of the book.
Format for answer: TEXT
Questions to think about for next class (not this one) —
1. Symbols! This is why English teachers like the book. Holden keeps returning to ideas and objects that he invests with significance — this is how he conveys his emotional truths. The red hunting hat. The question of where the ducks go in the winter. The “Little Shirley Beans” record. Childhood (his own and his sister Phoebe’s). And, of course, the title of the novel itself. So, my question is this: track a symbol. Where does it recur and why? That is, what does it mean?
2. By the end of the novel, what (if anything) has Holden learned? And what’s next for Holden?
3. In addition to finishing the novel, I’ve also asked you to read my “7 questions we should ask about children’s literature.” Pay particular attention to the first of those 7 — What does this book present as normal? Apply that question to the novel, following up with these more specific questions that I have borrowed (and slightly modified) from Nathalie Wooldridge:
What or whose view of the world, or kinds of behavior does the book present as normal?
Why is the book written from this perspective? How else could it have been written?
What assumptions does the book make about age, gender, race, class, sexuality, and culture (including the age, gender, race, class, sexuality, and culture of the reader)?
Whose perspectives does the book present? Whose perspectives does the book silence or ignore?
4. Why has this novel become such a cultural touchstone? Should it be a cultural touchstone? Indeed, should it be on this syllabus? That last question is not a trick question. First of all, I’m always changing this syllabus, and I don’t always include The Catcher in the Rye. Second, you should question what’s on this syllabus. For this class, there are millions of books to choose from. Should Catcher in the Rye be among these 15?
Again, these last 4 questions are for next time.
week #1, discussion #3: J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye (to end)
Answer the question that corresponds with your group number. Post your comment, drawing on examples from the book — remember the importance of close reading. Quote from the text to support your arguments. And then please respond to at least one other person in your group — ideally to two or three. Post your initial comment before the due date (end of Friday) for this discussion. If your responses to others’ occur after that, it’s OK — the discussion will still be enter-able for a week after the due date. Try to chime in as soon after the deadline as you can. I realize that we are all having a conversation asynchronously. Do your best.
1. As I say, I think all the symbols are why English teachers like the book. Holden keeps returning to ideas and objects that he invests with personal significance — this is how he conveys his emotional truths. He’s not likely to say, directly, “I’m afraid of adulthood” or “I miss my brother Allie” or “I feel vulnerable.” No, he’s going to put on his red hunting hat. He’s going to wonder about where the ducks go in the winter. He’s going to search for and then carry around the “Little Shirley Beans” record. He’s going to talk about childhood (his own and his sister Phoebe’s). And, of course, his fantasy of becoming a catcher in the rye So, I asked you to track a symbol. Where does it recur and why? That is, what does it mean?
2. By the end of the novel, what (if anything) has Holden learned? And what’s next for Holden? Holden talks about wanting to be a catcher in the rye: “Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around — nobody big, I mean — except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff” (173). He talks about pretending he’s a deaf mute, living in a cabin near the woods (198-99, 204-05). He tries to erase all of the fuck yous realizes he can’t: “If you had a million years to do it, you couldn’t rub out even half the ‘Fuck you’ signs in the world. It’s impossible” (202). People keep “asking me if I’m going to apply myself when I go back to school next September. It’s such a stupid question, in my opinion. I mean how do you know what you’re going to do till you do it? The answer is, you don’t. I think I am, but how do I know? I swear it’s a stupid question” (213). That he asks himself this question at the end tells us what? Will he apply himself? Will he follow Antolini’s advice to learn from other writers?
3. So, I also asked you to read my “7 questions we should ask about children’s literature” and to pay particular attention to the first of those 7 — What does this book present as normal? Apply that question to the novel, following up with these more specific questions borrowed (and slightly modified) from Nathalie Wooldridge:
What or whose view of the world, or kinds of behavior does the book present as normal?
Why is the book written from this perspective? How else could it have been written?
What assumptions does the book make about age, gender, race, class, sexuality, and culture (including the age, gender, race, class, sexuality, and culture of the reader)?
Whose perspectives does the book present? Whose perspectives does the book silence or ignore?
I am asking you these questions because I want you to think critically about this novel and all novels we read. You do not need to agree with or like or enjoy each novel on the syllabus. I ask that you make an attempt to understand each work, but I also invite you — I encourage you — to raise critical questions about each work — backing up your critique with examples from the book.
4. Finally, a big question: Why has this novel become such a cultural touchstone? Should it be a cultural touchstone? And should it be on this syllabus? As I said last time, that question is not a trick question. (1) I’m always changing this syllabus, and I don’t always include The Catcher in the Rye. (2) You should question what’s on this syllabus. Of the millions of Young Adult books we could read, should Catcher in the Rye be among the mere 15 on the syllabus? Key here as in all questions is defending your answer with examples from the book.
Format for answer: TEXT
Don’t forget: journal entry due Sunday night!
Next time: E. Lockhart’s The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks. Its placement next on the syllabus is not accidental. So, you might consider her novel as being in conversation with Salinger’s novel. What would Lockhart’s book say to Salinger’s book? Each book features a protagonist inclined to rebel — against what does each protagonist rebel? And what does each protagonist accept? You might compare/contrast a bit as you read.
WEEK 2
week #2, discussion #1: E. Lockhart’s Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks (2008), through “Broken Date”
1. Let’s start with an exercise in close-reading. How does the novel’s opening letter position you, the reader? (Read the letter that opens the novel.)
A. What are the key words or phrases in that opening letter? Why?
B. What questions does the letter raise about the novel you are about to read?
C. What clues does the letter give you for the novel that you are about to read?
D. And where does the letter position you in relation to the novel’s main character, Frankie Landau-Banks? What sort of relationship does it invite? Are you sympathetic? Unsympathetic?
Sketch out some answers to these questions, referring to specifics in that opening letter — actually quoting them — in your response. Feel free to refer to moments beyond that opening letter, too.
2. What questions does Frankie (and the novel itself) raise about masculinity and femininity? That is, how might it invite us to think critically about the gender roles that we’re encouraged to inhabit — “acceptable” versions of masculinity and femininity? Point to a few examples. And one last question for part 2 of our discussion: If she landed in The Catcher in the Rye or he landed in her novel, what would Frankie say to Holden?
3. What is the panopticon? How does it work as a system of control? And… what might it tell us about adolescence — or, if you like, about Frankie?
Don’t forget to cite specifics from the novel in your answers!
Format for answer: TEXT
week #2, discussion #2: E. Lockhart’s Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, to end
1. Here is a more succinct version of this question than what’s included in the video: Does the novel propose the idea that women/girls and men/boys use power differently? In what ways might it be helpful to think of power as distinctly gendered? In what ways might that not be helpful to understand power as gendered?
Here is the longer version, which I offer mostly for the citations therein. Several times, Frankie notes how the Loyal Order of the Bassett Hounds — that bastion of patriarchal privilege — fosters bonding, “togetherness,” “connection” (see pp. 195, 221, 222). She longs for such a bond herself… but doesn’t get one. At the end, we learn that, while Trish is a “loyal friend,” “Trish’s lack of understanding is a condition of that loyalty” (338). Does Frankie’s lack of a female cohort undermine the feminist critique of patriarchy, expressed elsewhere in the novel? Is it positing that women’s power works differently (a version of Elizabeth’s argument in the debate, pp. 160-165)? If so, does that difference contradict Frankie’s frequent critique of the “double standard” she faces as a girl? Or, whether it is or is not contradictory, might it be positing an alternate form of power?
2. Near the end of the novel, Porter asks, “Why did you do all that, Frankie?” She answers his question with two questions: “Have you ever heard of the panopticon?” And “Have you ever been in love?” (329). What do these two questions tell you about her motivations? And why do you suppose Lockhart does not have Frankie elaborate? Finally, how might these two questions influence our interpretation of the novel?
3. E. Lockhart has said that there will be no sequel to this novel. Her narrator, however, does offer two possibilities for Frankie’s future (336-337): “They sometimes go crazy, these people” or they “change the world” (337). Defending your answer with examples from this book, which future is more likely? Make sure you refer to the final chapter.
Please respond to at least one other comment in your group. As before, post your initial comment before the deadline; your second (and third, etc.) can fall after the deadline.
Format for answer: TEXT
Don’t forget: journal entry due Sunday night, and quiz due Monday night.
For next week, we’re reading Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak (1999). Talk to you then!
Incidentally, I’ve been posting these on YouTube because the Hale Library fire knocked our course infrastructure system (Canvas) for a loop. Its video-sharing apparatus (MyMediaSite) hasn’t been working. So, I decided to use my YouTube channel. I haven’t yet decided if I will post all Literature for Adolescents course videos on YouTube… or just do so until the university’s Canvas site stabilizes again.*
The main downside is that students will be able to see the videos far ahead of two weeks in advance. Following the advice of other on-line teachers, I make visible curriculum for only two weeks into the future. The philosophy behind that is you don’t want a student to rush through the class. They should proceed at roughly the pace of the semester, learning as they go, improving their discussion responses etc. in response to feedback from me and other students. Showing them two weeks into the future allows them to better manage their time — and work ahead if their schedule demands that.
The upside is the possibility that these videos might be useful to other teachers or students of Literature for Adolescents. If you do find any of these useful, let me know. Also, if you spot any mistakes or have suggestions, let me know — though keep in mind that you are not seeing all of the teaching. I will be joining the students’ discussion — typically via text, though sometimes via video. And my responses to their discussion will sometimes result in additional readings — always brief ones, but useful ones.
That’s all for now.
* A public thanks to everyone working in K-State’s ITS, Telecommunications, and all who have been putting in long hours to get the university fully on-line again. I appreciate it! And so do my fellow faculty members!
I became editor of Routledge’s Children’s Literature and Culture series in 2011, when I succeeded founding editor Jack Zipes. He founded the series in 1994, which makes this the longest-running series devoted to the study of children’s literature and culture from a national and international perspective. In my seven years as series editor, I’ve edited 30 or so books that have been published. There’s another half dozen that are not out yet but are either forthcoming or under contract. It’s been a busy seven years, and I’m very proud of the authors, editors, and contributors we’ve published. I’ve learned a lot from all of them and I am grateful to them for choosing to publish with Routledge. They make this series what it is, and I thank them.
Jack edited this series for 17 years. After doing the job for a mere seven years, I can only begin to appreciate what that means, especially given that he did this in addition to a prolific career as a scholar and educator.
I lack Jack’s stamina. So, I’m stepping down from my editorship — or, to be more accurate, I am beginning that process. As Jack did when he passed the editorship on to me, I too will continue to edit any books that I’ve signed. For the new editors’ first year, Jennifer Abbott — the excellent in-house Routledge editor we work with — will include me in all editorial correspondence. Kenneth and Beth are in charge, but I’ll be available as needed. In fact, since last June, Jen has already been copying the new editors on correspondence regarding all new projects.
So, my stepping down is really more of a gradual phasing out.
In my years as editor, I have learned that, unless you have Jack Zipes’ superhuman strength, editing a book series is a two-person job. I’m delighted that the new editorial team will be:
Kenneth Kidd, Professor of English at the University of Florida in Gainesville, and the author or co-editor of six books (including one in the Routledge series); and
Beth Marshall, Associate Professor of Education at Simon Frasier University in British Columbia, and the author, co-author, or co-editor of three books (including one in the Routledge series).
Don’t let their youthful good looks fool you. Between them, these two award-winning scholars bring nearly 50 years of experience in the field of children’s literature — and two different disciplines (English, Education). I couldn’t be happier that the series is in such good hands. I look forward to seeing where they take the series!
I’ve been meaning to write this post for a few months.
Over the past year or so, I’ve been gradually drifting away from Facebook. Lately, the drift has become a decisive move. Last month, I downloaded my Facebook data — in order to better see precisely what Facebook was collecting. Then, I removed Facebook from my phone and tablet.
There are many reasons for my move — most recently, Facebook’s pursuit of treason for cash. But, more generally, I am stepping away because — like so many “free” platforms — Facebook is a parasitic business that monetizes your attention and personal data. I don’t feel comfortable supporting Mark Zuckerberg’s reckless, lucrative, criminal enterprise. So, I’m on his platform less often.
But I haven’t yet closed my account. Two groups with which I am affiliated have Facebook presences; I feel a professional responsibility to maintain an account in order to manage those. It’s possible that I may occasionally pop in to post birthday wishes. I suspect, though, that my infrequent engagement with this predatory platform means I’ll miss a lot of Facebook friends’ birthdays. I’m sorry about that: I really enjoyed posting a different song each year.
My move away from Facebook began with Manoush Zomorodi’s Note to Self podcast, which I started listening to at the beginning of 2017. Its “Bored and Brilliant” series (2015/2017) introduced me to the Moment app, which allows you to monitor your use of your iPhone or iPad. (If you have an Android phone, it recommends the BreakFree app.) Moment showed me how often I was using my devices, and helped me cut back. Subsequent series — its “Infomagical” series (2016) and its “Privacy Paradox” series (2017) — also helped. I deleted apps I wasn’t using. I turned off notifications. I tidied up my apps into little folders.
If you wonder whether your use of technology may be hindering or even harming you, I highly recommend these three Note to Self series. If you have already noticed the ways in which apps and social media ensnare and prey upon your attention, then perhaps you have already taken the necessary steps to reclaim your life. Whatever you ultimately decide to do, I recommend reflecting on your relationship to technology. Not coincidentally, such reflection is the focus of the Note to Self podcast.
I used to make the effort to, say, check Facebook only twice a day — an effort at which I did not always succeed. However, in the past month or so, I have found it quite easy to stay off of Facebook. I actually find myself putting off checking Facebook. I’m simply not comfortable being there. Its willingness to aid Russian interference in the 2016 U.S. election is a major catalyst — selling Trump ads at much lower rates than Clinton ads (because Trump ads got more clicks), taking Russian money (in Rubles, even!) to fund pro-Trump propaganda & fake news, or allowing Cambridge Analytica to harvest its users’ data (again, in support of the mendacious traitor who currently occupies the White House… well, when he’s not at one of his golf courses).
In his testimony yesterday, Mr. Zuckerberg said his slow response to Russian meddling is “one of [his] greatest regrets,” and promised to ban apps that are “doing anything improper.” Earlier that day, he said he will make sure Facebook is “a positive force in the world.” There is zero reason to believe him. First, he has made promises like this before — as in this 2009 interview, below.
Second, there is no regulation that would compel him to keep these promises. Third, and as Tim Wu points out, the flaws of Facebook are not a bug but a feature. Facebook is designed to surveil its users:
The problems are central and structural, the predicted consequences of its business model. From the day it first sought revenue, Facebook prioritized growth over any other possible goal, maximizing the harvest of data and human attention. Its promises to investors have demanded an ever-improving ability to spy on and manipulate large populations of people. Facebook, at its core, is a surveillance machine, and to expect that to change is misplaced optimism.
Exactly. If you sign up for Facebook, you’re donating your personal data and time to an enterprise built on manipulating you and selling others whatever you tell it about yourself. Because that’s what Facebook is.
Beyond the obvious fact that I don’t want to continue enriching Mr. Zuckerberg or supporting his poisonous enterprise, I simply don’t like being on Facebook. It feels like a sinister, perilous place to be.
I know, of course, that social media has always been far more dangerous for women, people of color, gay people, the trans community, and all whom society renders more vulnerable. And I am aware that many daily behaviors implicate all of us in injustices of various kinds. (How much child labor went into making your cell phone? Who made that chocolate and under what conditions? How much money does Twitter make from Russian bots or the traffic generated by Herr Twitler?) I realize that it’s nearly impossible to disentangle ourselves from all dubious products and practices. But Facebook is one that I can step back from.
I’ll miss knowing what’s going on in people’s lives, and I may well miss useful professional information. But I won’t miss the misinformation, the clickbait, the amplification of outrage, or that queasy, soul-sucking feeling of being on Facebook.
So, that’s why you have been seeing much less of me on Facebook — and will see even less of me in the future. I have yet to delete my account, but that day may come, too. We’ll see.
If you need to reach me, email and Twitter (@philnel) remain more reliable ways of doing so. Those who know me know that Facebook was never the best way to reach me (though I once had the app on my phone and tablet, I never installed Facebook Messenger). But for those who weren’t aware, now you are.
Be safe out there. Take care of yourselves. And drop me a line if you need anything, OK?
As many teachers do, I teach Sherman Alexie’s Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. When confirmed reports of his sexual harassment and other abuses of power became public, I knew I had to talk to my class about it — I had already taught Absolutely True Diary in my on-line Multicultural Children’s Literature class earlier in the semester. Thinking that our conversation might be of use to others who are confronting this issue, I’m sharing my initial question, my response to their conversation (which highlights recurring themes), and a quotation from one of the students (shared with her permission). Because I have to prepare our on-line conversations several weeks in advance, this begins in early March but their responses were only due in late March — and my response followed.
6 March 2018
Because I’m preparing these discussions about three weeks in advance, this will appear as “due” after March Break. And that is in fact when it is due. I don’t feel I can add anything further to our current week. But I also don’t feel that I can ignore this. So I am making this visible now (March 6th) even though you’re not obliged to discuss it until March 27th.
For the past month, those of us in the children’s literature / young adult literature community have known that Sherman Alexie is among those accused of sexual harassment. Last week (Feb. 28), Alexie issued a denial/apology. Yesterday (Mar. 5), three of his accusers went public.
This raises an important question for us — as students, future teachers (some of you), or current teachers (me and some of you). Should we continue to teach an author who has harmed others? And that is the question I am posing to you right now. Should work by Sherman Alexie be on future iterations of this syllabus? Or ought we instead replace him with, say, a work by another indigenous writer — perhaps Cherie Dimaline’s The Marrow Thieves —?
This is a hotly debated question, and — from our previous conversations — I know that you will express yourselves with care and consideration for divergent points of view. Those who argue for often note that those who create great works of art may not lead exemplary lives; their own personal failings are irrelevant to the greatness of their art. And, certainly, as a colleague of mine observed via email, in our English classes we teach many writers who, in their private lives, were horrible human beings. Those who argue against might say that there is no legacy so important that we can look the other way. As Roxane Gay puts it, “I no longer struggle with artistic legacies. It is not difficult to dismiss the work of predators and angry men because agonizing over a predator’s legacy would mean there is some price I am willing to let victims pay for the sake of good art.” She suggests instead that we turn to artistic work created by those “capable of treating others with respect.” If these are two opposing poles of the debate, there are of course many positions between them. And there are other ways of exploring possible answers to this question.
As I say, it’s a difficult, messy question.
I have my own answer to it, which I will share after our conversation — and, indeed, which might be changed by our conversation.
Time passed — including March Break — and the students’ conversation unfolded on-line. It was the most contentious conversation we’ve had this semester, but — to their great credit — they remained civil even when they strongly disagreed. I then wrote my promised response, which I reproduce below.
30 March 2018
Hi, everyone. Sorry I’ve been a little quieter this week. Have been a bit under the weather. Indeed, your El Deafo discussion (two weeks from now) lacks my second planned video because my voice is still a bit wonky.
In your discussion, some liken the removal of a book from a course syllabus to censorship. I see the parallel being made, but — as the creator of many syllabi — I would argue that removing a book from a course syllabus is not the same as censorship. The book is not banned. It is still for sale, and still in the library. Also, since I regularly revise my syllabi, I am often taking books off and putting others on. I do this for many reasons, including the never-ending quest to improve the course, the need to stay current (new books keep getting published), and my own need to refresh the syllabus (if I teach the same works over and over, then I risk getting stale).
Another theme I notice in your discussion is the idea that removing this book would consequently remove Native American literature from our Multicultural Children’s Lit syllabus. It wouldn’t. We could read Erika Wurth’s Crazy Horse’s Girlfriend, Cherie Dimaline’s The Marrow Thieves, Cynthia Leitich Smith’s Rain Is Not My Indian Name, or Louise Erdrich’s Birchbark House. Debbie Reese makes some Native YA Lit recommendations in this blog post. There are many Native children’s and YA books to choose from. Indeed, there should be more than one on this syllabus. There isn’t because the class strives to cover as wide a range of identities as it can, which (I realize) risks making this book the “single story” that Adichie warns against.
I would, however, agree with those who note that (and I’m paraphrasing here) monstrous people have made great art, important art, influential art. Faulkner’s “go slow, now” approach to ending Jim Crow was immoral and unjust, but if I were teaching a class on twentieth-century American literature, I would assign Faulkner. If I were teaching a class on twentieth-century Native American Literature, I think I would also assign Alexie — bringing in the full context, the women who have spoken on the record, the women who have spoken off the record, those who defend Alexie and those who accuse him. We could have a more developed version of the conversation we’ve had here.
But I don’t teach a Native American Literature course. I teach a Multicultural Children’s Literature course and I teach a Young Adult Literature course. Alexie’s Absolutely True Diary has been on both of those syllabi. It will not be on either syllabus in the future. There are many reasons why, but here are four.
William Faulkner is dead. Sherman Alexie is alive. If I assign Alexie’s books (and thus mandate that my students buy his books), I am continuing to pay his salary. I would rather pay the salary of a person who has managed to create good art without harming others. Since there are plenty of such people, I will be assigning Cherie Dimaline’s The Marrow Thieves next time.
The books I assign in both classes go on to become books that future teachers assign: Secondary Education majors take Literature for Adolescents, and I know that this class has some Education majors in it, too. So, in assigning a book, I am in essence recommending that book for tomorrow’s teachers. I am making it part of the children’s literature / YA literature canon, enshrining it in the curricula of tomorrow.
Sherman Alexie’s treatment of women is diametrically opposed to the goal of a class like Multicultural Children’s Literature. As I say in that opening video, the books we read are about increasing understanding, and respecting others. I cannot in good conscience promote the work of a man who does the opposite of what this class aspires to do.
As his denial/apology indicates, Alexie does not understand why his behavior was wrong. If he understood, apologized, made efforts to make amends, well, there would at least be the possibility that I might assign him again in the future. But he doesn’t get it. He says “I genuinely apologize” but also “There are women telling the truth about my behavior and I have no recollection of verbally threatening anybody or their careers.” So, which behaviors are true, then? He says, “I have made poor decisions,” but declines to name what those decisions were, which makes it hard to believe that he is “working hard to become a healthier man who makes healthier decisions.” If he does not understand why his behavior was wrong, then he cannot learn from his past. You need to know why a mistake is a mistake in order to change.
Because, yes, as some of you have correctly noted, humans are flawed. We make mistakes. We have regrets. We do things we should not do. And we would be naïve to expect our artists, writers, actors, musicians, to be paragons of virtue. But, for me, a pattern of predatory behavior crosses a line.
Though my sense is that not all of you do, I believe the accusers. Why? Many reasons, the first of which (as I say) is that there is a pattern of behavior here. When there’s a pattern, we cannot say, “oh, it was just this one isolated incident.” Also, it’s really really hard to speak publicly about being sexually harassed or assaulted. Women who do get slut-shamed, called liars, blamed for seeking publicity, harassed further, and may face professional consequences. When a woman makes the decision to speak up, she is putting herself at risk. That’s why so many of those men named in the #MeToo movement have gone unnamed until now. Calling out the predatory behavior of powerful men (or women, but it’s usually men) is risky. It’s necessary to call them out, but it requires a level of bravery and emotional strength that not all people have — and nor should they be required to have. Surviving the traumas of harassment and assault takes a lot out of a person. (Big understatement.)
The emotions in this discussion have been more raw than they usually are — which is quite understandable, of course. I mention it here for several reasons, the first of which is that a couple of days have elapsed since the discussion and my response. I wish we could have had this conversation in person because then we could have addressed some of these questions in person. The asynchronous nature of this class means that we could not. But, since we could not, you should know that you all did far better than all of the on-line discussions I’ve seen on this subject. There have been much more contentious posts on recent School Library Journal articles, for example. This discussion never even approached that level of vitriol. Indeed, it was remarkably vitriol free.
That said, I recognize there may yet be some frayed nerves and lingering bad feelings. So. If anyone would like to talk with me about this, please let me know. I am willing to set up a Zoom chat for anyone who’d like it — or multiple Zoom chats. And, whether people seek those or not, I ask that you do your best to sustain the professionalism you’ve managed to sustain throughout the term. We do not have to agree with each other, but we do have to make an effort to understand and respect each other.
For the record, I respect the variety of opinions offered here. I’ve given you my response because I promised that I would. But, as I’ve said before, you do not need to agree with my assessment of a book or, in this case, whether to teach the work of a particular author.
Finally, if I may, I’d like to close with the wise words of your classmate Maria Vieyra, who (in this discussion) writes:
None of us are epitomes of perfect ethical behavior, morality, or wisdom, but I believe most of us can agree that there should be consequences for predatory sexual behavior because it does indeed hurt people. And monetary costs from boycotting a book are a small form of justice that we are all able to be a part of, and I do not think it is too heavy a price to pay for the sake of the victims and the future.
Well said.
To all of you: Thanks ever so much for taking the time to wrestle with this contentious and difficult issue. I hope that, though your own responses may differ, you all have arrived at a deeper understanding of what’s at stake in either retaining a book or removing it.
So… that was our class discussion. Also, I didn’t mention this in my response above, but most students thought I should continue to teach Alexie. Five students — all of them women — argued against teaching his work. (18 students participated in the discussion.)
I would not claim to have the “right” answer to the question of whether to teach Alexie. This is just my answer. I would say, though, that each syllabus is a political document that is built on moral choices. What we include on a syllabi and what we omit from that syllabi are deeply enmeshed in morality and in politics — which, of course, makes the creation of any syllabus fraught, complicated, and on some level unsatisfying. (Or, at least, that’s my experience: I am never 100% happy with any syllabus I’ve created.)
Art is always political. So is teaching. We cannot pretend otherwise.
The objects of your nostalgic longing may disappoint you, if you are willing to look at them openly and honestly. If you read, create, or write about children’s literature, today — the 114th birthday of Theodor Geisel (a.k.a. Dr. Seuss) — would be a good time to admit this to yourself. OK, the time for such admission is really long overdue, but do not be too hard on yourself. The power of cultural inertia is hard to resist.
That said, do resist. Make the attempt. As Seuss himself wrote in a different context, “face up to your problems / whatever they are.”
This particular problem is one to tackle today because Seuss’s work contains both much to admire and much to oppose. Yet, because of his status, people are much more comfortable admiring than looking critically at his work. In the U.S., he is revered as a patron saint of children’s literacy, and children’s literature. In 1997, the National Education Association adopted his birthday as a day to celebrate “Read Across America Day.” It still uses his Cat in the Hat as its mascot, even though — starting this year — it’s shifting its focus to diverse books.
I am partly to blame for this shift.
In a report that helped inspire this change, Katie Ishizuka-Stephens cites the essay that became the title chapter of my Was the Cat in the Hat Black? As I point out, Seuss’s Cat is racially complicated. He’s partially inspired by blackface minstrelsy, African American elevator operator Annie Williams (who wore white gloves and a secret smile), and Krazy Kat (the black, ambiguously gendered creation of bi-racial cartoonist George Herriman).
I’m happy that Ishizuka-Stephens’s report has persuaded the NEA to shift their “Read Across America Day” focus to diverse books. Half of U.S. school-age children are nonwhite. But of children’s books published in 2016, only 22 percent of children’s books published featured nonwhite children, and only 13 percent were by nonwhite creators. Celebrating stories in which our multicultural young people can see themselves is a better choice than celebrating Seuss.
Which is not to say that Seuss must be thrown out of our classrooms — though that is of course an option. It is, rather, to suggest that we consider which Seuss we use, and how we use it.
At left: Dr. Seuss, from “Four Places Not to Hide While Growing Your Beard” (Life, 15 Nov. 1929). At right: Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat (1957).
Racial caricature in Seuss’s work can help people understand how racism works. Seuss did both racist work and anti-racist work, often at the same time. In the 1940s, he created political cartoons, some of which dehumanized people of Japanese descent, and others of which were critical of both anti-Semitism and racism against African Americans. In the 1950s, Seuss published Horton Hears a Who!, hailed by one reviewer as “a rhymed lesson in protection of minorities and their rights”; wrote his first version of The Sneetches, an anti-racist fable; and published an essay that critiques racist humor. During that same period, he recycled racist caricature in his books. In If I Ran the Zoo, protagonist Gerald McGrew travels to “the mountains of Zomba-ma-Tant / With helpers who all wear their eyes at a slant,” and to the “African Island of Yerka” where he meets two stereotypically rendered Black men.
That Seuss is doing both racist anti-racist work at the same time can be confusing because many of us see racism as an “either/or”: people are either racist or not racist. Indeed, that’s how Seuss himself understood racism. In a June 1942 cartoon titled “What This Country Needs is a Good Mental Insecticide,” he draws a long line of men waiting to get inoculated against the “racial prejudice bug.” The insecticide goes in one ear, and the racist bug tumbles out the other. I wish we could fumigate racism from our minds, and applaud Seuss’s optimism. Unfortunately, racism is not a bug. It’s a feature. Racism is not aberrant. It’s ordinary. It’s embedded in institutions and in culture — such as the cartoons and books of Dr. Seuss.
It’s upsetting to learn that a beloved children’s author used racist caricature. So, many people — especially White people — seek explanations and offer excuses. In response to recent criticism, his grand-nephew Ted Owens has said of Seuss: “I know one thing for sure — I never saw one ounce of racism in anything he said, or how he lived his life, or what his stories were about.” Mr. Owens’ claim relies on perception and intent. But racism does not require either. People can perpetuate racism without intending to. I don’t think Seuss intended to. Because he was unaware of the degree to which his visual imagination was steeped in caricature, he recycled racist stereotypes even as he was also writing anti-racist parables. Dr. Seuss was the “woke” White guy who isn’t as woke as he thinks he is.
“Now, wait just a minute,” some may object. “Seuss was a man of his time. We should not impose contemporary standards on him or his work. People thought differently then.” But that is a gross oversimplification. All people in any given historical moment do not think about race in precisely the same way. As Robin Bernstein has shown in her work on nineteenth-century anti-racism, the range of available racial beliefs remains constant over time, but the distribution of those beliefs change. In the past and in the present, both extraordinary and perfectly ordinary people have opposed White supremacy. Similarly, both remarkable and unremarkable people have supported White supremacy. To claim that people 60 years ago were racist but people now are enlightened both naturalizes past racism as inevitable and implies that social change is a natural, ongoing march towards a brighter, fairer future. Yet, as we are reminded daily, our current president and his party are actively working against precisely such a future. Progress moves in fits and starts, makes gains and endures setbacks, and always requires people committed to making a positive difference.
Seuss can be part of this positive difference. His more progressive books — The Lorax (1971) or The Butter Battle Book (1984), to name two examples — might teach children about the need to care for the environment or to oppose the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Horton Hears a Who! could teach them to stand up for those who are targeted by bigots: the Whos’ size is an arbitrary mark of difference that could represent any such visible sign of human variance. As for the books featuring racist caricature, one option is to remove them from the curriculum. Another is to read them critically. With the guidance of a thoughtful educator, Seuss’s racist caricature can help young people understand that racism is not anomalous. It permeates the culture. Seeing this caricature can also let them know that it’s OK to be angry at art — that anger can in fact be a healthy response to work that demeans you.
We might also follow Roxane Gay’s advice. As she writes, “There is no scarcity of creative genius, and that is the artistic work we can and should turn to instead.” Gay is writing in the context of the current #MeToo movement, suggesting that we discard work built on the dehumanization of others. We could follow her advice by pushing Seuss aside and instead celebrating diverse books — doing what the NEA is doing in its program even if it (curiously) retains the Cat in the Hat as its mascot. Ishizuka-Stephens has assembled a great collection of “21 Books for an Inclusive Read Across America Day.” That’s an excellent place to start.
Wrapping yourself in an unreflective nostalgia for the art you grew up with may comfort you, but if that art denigrates women, or caricatures people of color, or otherwise harms minoritized communities, then you bear responsibility for the pain that this art inflicts. I realize this is a hard truth to face and that some who read this will — instead of facing themselves and acknowledging their responsibility — attack the messenger. Some may indulge in projection, locating in the messenger those faults that they refuse to admit in themselves. Others will find different strategies of denial, displacement, or dismissal. In so doing, they will continue to be part of the problem.
For those who prefer to be part of the solution, know that you need not abandon nostalgia. It’s OK to be nostalgic, as long as that nostalgia is what Svetlana Boym called “reflective nostalgia.” It “dwells on the ambivalences of human longing and belonging and does not shy away from the contradictions of modernity. Restorative nostalgia protects the absolute truth, while reflective nostalgia calls it into doubt” (xviii). As Boym wrote, reflective nostalgia reminds us that “longing and critical thinking are not opposed to one another, as affective memories do not absolve one from compassion, judgment or critical reflection” (The Future of Nostalgia 49-50).
So. Reflect. Dwell on those ambivalences. Develop your capacity to reflect. Activate your compassion.
And buy diverse books. Teach diverse books. Read diverse books.
Posts related to Was the Cat in the Hat Black?, including glimpses of the work in progress:
The Archive of Childhood, Part 2: The Golliwog (13 Jan. 2015). A revised version of this blog post appears as part of the book’s introduction (“Race, Racism, and the Cultures of Childhood”).
Was the Cat in the Hat Black? (22 June 2014). An earlier version of the title chapter (“The Strange Career of the Cat in the Hat; or, Dr. Seuss’s Racial Imagination”) appeared as an article, in Children’s Literature 42 (2014).
On Reading the Expurgated Huck Finn; or, Why We Should Teach Offensive Novels (17 Oct. 2014). I wrote this blog post so that I could write about Alan Gribben’s expurgated edition of Twain. Pieces of this appear (in revised form) in Chapter 2, “How to Read Uncomfortably: Racism, Affect, and Classic Children’s Books.”
Can Censoring a Children’s Book Remove Its Prejudices? (19 Sept. 2010). My earliest thinking on what became Chapter 2 (“How to Read Uncomfortably”), and one of the most frequently cited posts from this blog. I hope that — in future — people cite the book chapter… because it’s better!
Regarding the Pain of Racism (4 Apr. 2015). Reflections on an observation by Naomi Murakawa, and on my challenges as a White male scholar writing about oppressions I have not experienced. A few slivers of this appear in the Conclusion, “A Manifesto for Anti-Racist Children’s Literature.”
Ferguson: Response & Resources (24 Aug. 2014). I began this book before the Black Lives Matter movement began, but it and its leaders have informed my work.
#BlackLivesMatter — A Twitter Essay (3 Dec. 2014). Daniel Pantaleo is on video choking Eric Garner to death. When a grand jury said there was no need for a trial, I wrote this.
Again. And Again. And… ENOUGH! (7 July 2016). The murders of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile inspired this. #BlackLivesMatter
Charleston, Family History, and White Responsibility (22 June 2016). A response to the terrorism in Charleston, South Carolina. Following sustained critique from family members, I removed this from the blog — the first time that I’ve altered a post for reasons other than finding an error or a typo. However, the Wayback Machine preserved the post. Ideas expressed in it emerge in the book (notably, the end of Chapter 3), but (unlike the original post) do so without identifying specific individuals.
Seuss on Film (2 March 2016). Includes four clips of Seuss: Unusual Occupations (1940), Making SNAFU (c. 1943), To Tell the Truth (1958), and footage from a New Zealand schoolroom (1964).
No Seuss Better Than Faux Seuss (27 July 2015). On bad imitation Seuss verse, contrasted with good imitation — provided via audio of David Rakoff’s excellent “Samsa and Seuss.”
Six Spots of Seuss News (2 Mar. 2015). On What Pet Should I Get?, Elana Kagan’s citation of One fish two fish red fish blue fish (1960) in a 2015 Supreme Court decision written by Justice Elena Kagan, Dr. Seuss advertising art from 1936, and a Dr. Seuss rap quiz!
Oh, the Quotations You’ll Forge! (2 Mar. 2014). Seuss’s pithy verse is very quotable. Unfortunately, people have a habit of attributing things to him that he never said. This post exposes some fake Seuss, and gives you plenty of quotations that he actually did say.
Happy birthday to Dr. Seuss! A guest post by Charles D. Cohen (2 Mar. 2013). Birthday reflections from Seussologist Charles Cohen (The Seuss, the Whole Seuss, and Nothing But the Seuss). Quotes some original verse by Seuss, including “Pentellic Bilge for Bennett Cerf’s Birthday” (1940).
On February 13 at 10:30 am in Topeka, the Kansas Senate will hear testimony on House Bill 2042, which appears to offer sensible gun regulation but in fact does nothing of the kind. (Try to contain your surprise.) I cannot be there myself. So, I have submitted my testimony in advance. I am also posting both text and video of my testimony here. If you can be at the capitol, please go. If not, please contact your representative. Thank you!
Testimony opposing HB-2042
Philip Nel
13 Feb 2018
My name is Philip Nel. I am a Professor at Kansas State University, but I offer this testimony as a citizen only — not as an employee. I would be pleased by the fact that HB 2042 mandates that 18-to-20-year olds get a permit and that anyone on a university campus get a permit to carry a weapon. I would be pleased, but the bill also includes Concealed Carry Reciprocity (CCR) — that NRA-promoted legislation says that all states must admit firearms from any state, irrespective of how unregulated that state’s guns are. So, if you’re from one of the twelve states that allows concealed-carry without a permit, then you can also carry in Kansas without a permit. In other words, CCR effectively supersedes HB-2042’s permit requirement.
In effect, HB 2042 makes matters worse by allowing people under 21 to concealed-carry, too. It invites yet more guns into the state and into our workplaces. Thanks to the state’s Guns Everywhere Law, guns have already been forced into college dormitories, libraries, laboratories, classrooms, and offices. The actual name of that law is of course “The Personal and Family Protection Act,” so-called because the law does nothing of the kind and because those who named it are liars. Similarly, those who claim that Concealed Carry Reciprocity will make Kansans safer are also not telling you the truth. Which, at this point, surprises no one.
The university where I teach does not need more guns. It needs more funds. Now, I realize that guns and funds rhyme. So, just to be clear: Guns are weapons that can kill people. Funds can employ faculty and staff who educate people. To be extra clear, I’ll use these words in a sentence. The arrival of guns on campus caused a former colleague to leave Kansas State University for a job at another university in another country. Funds could help hire a new faculty member to teach the courses that he is no longer here to teach.
So, I ask the Kansas legislature to oppose HB-2042. Instead of endangering the lives of your constituents, do something that helps them. Pass sensible gun regulations, and provide adequate funding for education at all levels. Instead of arming citizens with bullets, arm us with reason — via a good education.
Thank you.
To any academics who may be reading this: Is your university in a state or country with (relatively) competent governance? Or is it a private university (and thus not required to weaponize)? Does it seek an expert on children’s literature? Well, seek no further! Here is my curriculum vitae and a page devoted to my books (with selected reviews of same):
In 1969, Sesame Street made its debut on PBS in the U.S. It has since become not just an American institution, but an international one — broadcast in 150 countries, and in over 30 languages. This show — as cross-media and transnational phenomenon — is thus an ideal subject for the MLA’s textual transactions theme, as it invites us to think transnationally about “intellectual, artistic, and pedagogical work.” This panel invites papers on Sesame Street as a site of transaction — creative, cultural, educational. Possible areas of inquiry include but are not limited to:
How the programme’s many international iterations interact with the original concepts and their particular audience.
The show’s many political initiatives, both within and beyond the U.S. Since the first international co-productions in 1972 (Brazil’s Vila Sesamo and Mexico’s Plaza Sesamo), co-productions throughout the show’s history have promoted many social justice initiatives through Sesame Workshop International, including the introduction of HIV positive muppet Kami in the South African version (Takalini Sesame), and the Kosovo co-production (Rruga Sesam/Ulica Sezam) that supported the peace process between Albanian and Serbian children.
How Sesame Street’s many changes in the past five decades respond to the media landscape it inhabits. Sesame Street now has a popular YouTube channel, and as of 2016 its first-run episodes air on HBO, not PBS.
How the Muppets’ comic mode of engagement often upends the concept of a distinct audience constituted solely of child viewers, and challenges protectionist discourses around what are considered “appropriate” media texts produced for young audiences. While the history of Sesame Street has situated the Muppets as part of a public mandate geared at preschool children (Davis; Reimer), the parodic, vaudevillian, and often subversive humor that characterizes the Muppets (Abate; Schildcrout) have been central features throughout the history of Sesame Street’s programming.
How Sesame Street inhabits a dynamic position within popular culture, particularly how characters have been remixed and/or deployed politically (for example, Bert and Ernie and marriage activism).
Sesame Street‘s role as a surrogate caregiver, especially via its recognition of the complex emotional lives of children. Beginning with the death of Will Lee (the actor who played Mr. Hooper) in 1983, Sesame Street has been a leader in children’s television for dealing with serious subjects: death, down syndrome, autism, loss and grief following 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, children with incarcerated parents, children in military families coping with a parent’s deployment.
If accepted by the MLA, the panel will convene at the Modern Language Association Convention in Chicago, which will be held from January 3 to 6, 2019.
January 3rd through 7th is the Modern Language Association’s annual conference, held this year (2018) in New York City. (The year’s Presidential Theme is “States of Insecurity.”) As I do each year, I’m posting here all panels devoted to children’s literature, young adult literature, and comics/graphic novels. There will be many other panels of interest, I’m sure. So, do peruse the program for full details. And if I’ve omitted a panel on any of these subjects, please let me know and I will add it ASAP.
18: Calling Dumbledore’s Army: Activist Children’s Literature
Thursday, January 04, 2018, 12:00 PM – 01:15 PM. Hilton: Clinton
Children’s and Young Adult Literature Forum: Business Meeting
Friday, January 05, 2018, 01:45 PM – 03:00 PM. Sheraton New York Times Square: Madison 4
The open meeting will begin shortly after Session 298 is completed. The assigned room for the business meeting is snug, but we will try to accommodate everyone who attends. One of the orders of business will be the selection of sessions to be sponsored by the Forum for next year’s MLA Conference in Chicago. It would be helpful for individuals who would like to propose a session to provide a short handout to be distributed during the business meeting. The proposed sessions handouts should include: 1. A working title 2. A short (at least a paragraph) description and 3. The name of a current MLA members willing to chair the session.
Individuals unable to attend this year’s MLA conference, or unable to attend the Forum’s business meeting, can still submit topics for sessions for the 2019 MLA Conference in Chicago. Those proposals should be in the same format as the handouts for proposed sessions. The requirements are noted above. Session proposals for those unable to attend the business meeting should be submitted by email to Jan Susina (jcsusina@ilstu.edu) by December 21.
354: Graphic Resistance: Comics and Social Protest
Friday, January 05, 2018, 01:45 PM – 03:00 PM. Sheraton: New York Ballroom West
Description
This session investigates how and why comics have served as sites of resistance and explores how this history informs how comics are used—or could be used—for protest in our current moment. Participants explore genealogies of social protest that comics create in and across local, national, and international communities. How will this conversation open different future trajectories for exploring comics as micropolitical sites of resistance?
Ten years after the conclusion of Dykes to Watch Out For, twelve years after the graphic memoir Fun Home, and five years after Lisa Kron and Jeanine Tesori’s theatrical adaptation of Fun Home, this ignite talk session offers a spectrum of voices, perspectives, and theoretical approaches to the works of Bechdel, demonstrating not just analysis of a single author across genres but the impact of such texts on wider fields of study.
Mp3s are for sampling purposes. If you like what you hear, please go and buy it. Go to the artists' concerts. Tell your friends about them. If you represent an artist or a label and would prefer that I remove a link to an mp3, please email me: philnel at gmail dot com.
In 1951, Krauss was the author of one massive hit — The Carrot Seed (1945), illustrated by Crockett Johnson (also her husband) — and The Happy Day (1949), which won a Caldecott Honor for Marc Simont’s artwork. Of her other seven books from that period (1944-1951), only The Backward Day (1950, also illustrated by Simont) and Bears (1948, illus. by Phyllis Rowand) are remembered today. And Bears is known primarily for Maurice Sendak’s re-illustrated version, published in 2005.
Their first collaboration was the cultural phenomenon A Hole Is to Dig (1952, from which you can see a two-page spread, above this sentence). Their second was A Very Special House (1953), which won Sendak a Caldecott Honor — his first of many. They would collaborate on eight books between 1952 and 1960. More importantly, their collaborations officially launched Sendak’s career as the great 20th-century artist for children.
There are many posts on this blog tagged Ruth Krauss or Maurice Sendak. In honor of her birthday, why not read a few? And, of course, you can learn more about them both in my biography of Krauss and Crockett Johnson — check it out of your local library today!
I became editor of Routledge’s Children’s Literature and Culture series in 2011, when I succeeded founding editor Jack Zipes. He founded the series in 1994, which makes this the longest-running series devoted to the study of children’s literature and culture from a national and international perspective. In my seven years as series editor, I’ve edited 30 or so books that have been published. There’s another half dozen that are not out yet but are either forthcoming or under contract. It’s been a busy seven years, and I’m very proud of the authors, editors, and contributors we’ve published. I’ve learned a lot from all of them and I am grateful to them for choosing to publish with Routledge. They make this series what it is, and I thank them.
As many teachers do, I teach Sherman Alexie’s Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. When confirmed reports of his sexual harassment and other abuses of power became public, I knew I had to talk to my class about it — I had already taught Absolutely True Diary in my on-line Multicultural Children’s Literature class earlier in the semester. Thinking that our conversation might be of use to others who are confronting this issue, I’m sharing my initial question, my response to their conversation (which highlights recurring themes), and a quotation from one of the students (shared with her permission). Because I have to prepare our on-line conversations several weeks in advance, this begins in early March but their responses were only due in late March — and my response followed.
lives; their own personal failings are irrelevant to the greatness of their art. And, certainly, as a colleague of mine observed via email, in our English classes we teach many writers who, in their private lives, were horrible human beings. Those who argue against might say that there is no legacy so important that we can look the other way. 
This particular problem is one to tackle today because Seuss’s work contains both much to admire and much to oppose. Yet, because of his status, people are much more comfortable admiring than looking critically at his work. In the U.S., he is revered as a patron saint of children’s literacy, and children’s literature. In 1997, the National Education Association adopted his birthday as a day to celebrate “Read Across America Day.” It still uses his Cat in the Hat as its mascot, even though — starting this year — 
In 
“Now, wait just a minute,” some may object. “Seuss was a man of his time. We should not impose contemporary standards on him or his work. People thought differently then.” But that is a gross oversimplification. All people in any given historical moment do not think about race in precisely the same way. As 
Seuss can be part of this positive difference. His more progressive books — The Lorax (1971) or The Butter Battle Book (1984), to name two examples — might teach children about the need to care for the environment or to oppose the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Horton Hears a Who! could teach them to stand up for those who are targeted by bigots: the Whos’ size is an arbitrary mark of difference that could represent any such visible sign of human variance. As for the books featuring racist caricature, one option is to remove them from the curriculum. Another is to read them critically. With the guidance of a thoughtful educator, Seuss’s racist caricature can help young people understand that racism is not anomalous. It permeates the culture. Seeing this caricature can also let them know that it’s OK to be angry at art — that anger can in fact be a healthy response to work that demeans you.
For those who prefer to be part of the solution, know that you need not abandon nostalgia. It’s OK to be nostalgic, as long as that nostalgia is what 
On February 13 at 10:30 am in Topeka, the Kansas Senate will hear testimony on House Bill 2042, which appears to offer sensible gun regulation but in fact does nothing of the kind. (Try to contain your surprise.) I cannot be there myself. So, I have submitted my testimony in advance. I am also posting both text and video of my testimony here. If you can be at the capitol, please go. If not, please contact your representative. Thank you!
To any academics who may be reading this: Is your university in a state or country with (relatively) competent governance? Or is it a private university (and thus not required to weaponize)? Does it seek an expert on children’s literature? Well, seek no further! Here is my curriculum vitae and a page devoted to my books (with selected reviews of same):
It is time again to gather ’round