Ketchup psychology

A little round up of this past week BU merriment, and exceptionally, more English than French. Solely because English has blissfully less accents than French and I still need practice with the treacherous Spanish keyboard of my new laptop. Also, never mind my weird sentences. I've been hard at work re-reading Little Women, Good Wives, Little Men and Jo's Boys to cure a little spell of homesickness and prepare what I expect will be a delightful visit to Concord, Massachusetts, and its immortal Orchard House.

Let's start with my greatest satisfaction from last Monday, when after raining, it very litterally poured. The thi time's the charm and I FINALLY found my size of snowboots at Marshall's, without any hot pink rubber or extreme fur involved.  I was so happy that I changed my soaked booties for my new dainty darlings as soon as I had paid for them. Now I have dry feet that feel like they're being cuddled every time I take a step. Also, I bought a second pack of socks and felt grand. Now indulge me: don't my boots remind you a little bit of American Girl Marie-Grace's?

Now, dear reader, I can't blame you if my little snow boots story did not enthranced you. But you might laugh more heartily at this one. Wednesday nights are among my favourite for after flute ensemble, I usually end up having dinner with Dylan and Emily at the Late Night Kitchen, the only American restaurant I've seen so far that cooks crêpes on both sides (some dining halls, unfortunately, seem to think this is a loss of time. Needless to say, the result is utterly bizarre.)

So, friends and good food are bound to create lively conversations. Gender, children litterature, linguistics all went through till Dylan decided to demonstrate the trainwreck dilemna using a bottle of ketchup and three glasses as children playing on a napkin-traintrack. It's too bad I didn't also take a picture of our poor waitress when she saw it. But we were too busy dying of laughter.

And to finish it all: Americans have the curious habit of writing your name on your order, an then generally yell it to a crowd of standing people waiting for their orders, usually Starbucks coffee. I've been pegging at an outrageously desperating final paper on youth with disabilities inside the US Juvenile Justice System (I'll limit my rant here to say that it's a good thing the US haven't signed the Convention on the Right of the Child like everyone else with decency on this planet, because they're in violation of at least 23 articles out of the 47 functional ones, including article one, who defines children as anyone under 18 years of age. Let all my readers know that a ten-year old whose mother waved his right to have an attorney is currently emprisonned in Pennsylvania, charged with murder, and will be tried as an adult. His name and picture are all over the media, because everyone here prefers to do a sensationalist article than respect a minor's elementary right to privacy. A TEN YEAR OLD, apparently with mental health issues. And don't tell me this kid is too damaged to ever come back into society. It's society's role to protect minors, including protecting them from themselves. If society fails, then it should shoulder the consequences, because laws and judicial infrastructures, and schools and mental health services, are all created by responsible adults. If a child becomes (allegedly) a murderer, is denied due process and universal rights, and is locked away like a wild animal, who truly is to blame? I'll tell you: the most damaged persons in this story are the adults around him. They failed him. They are the fucked up ones. We all are, for letting such things happen in our society. It's time we look at the problem instead of conveniently hidding children behind bars. There, rant over.)

So, I got a bit carried away, but that's ok. Some things need to be said. Anyway, it's freezing in the library (after a few hours, I type with my gloves on...), so instead of taking a dinner break at the dining hall, I went to the George Sherman Union food court, which is closer. I ordered a comforting portion of mac and cheese. Now, I've given up on even telling people my actual name is Mathilde. One knows in France, this name is so common it's annoying at times. The last time I was the only Mathilde in a classroom was first grade. The year after that, we were three. And at the Conservatory, I'm proud to say, at one point, 7 of us studied flute with the same teacher. This bad. But here, people just stare blankly, so for convience's sake, if I don't intend on actually knowing the person or talking to them ever again, I'm Matilda. Even that I sometimes have to repeat, but Thursday, the adorable cook from Cheesology took it to a whole new level:

Happy Sunday everyone!

Boston Book Festival

Samedi 25 octobre, je me suis rendu au Festival du Livre de Boston en compagnie d'autres membres du club des English Educators. Au programme, une conférence par un ancien conseiller du ministère de l'éducation finlandais sur comment la Finlande arrive toujours en tête des classements PISA (ne me reste qu'à lire le livre original, qui a l'air fascinant !), un peu de slam et de burritos, de bonnes conversations, une visite guidée de Boston avortée, une entorse à la cheville et un rossignol bleu. C'est parti !

The English Educators Club organized an outing to the Boston Book Festival. Our first stop was the excellent lecture Finnish Lessons, by Pasi Sahlberg, a former Finnish Ministry of Education official. In an ideal world, my own career will be dedicated to educational policies, so I listened intently. During question time, I asked what were his feelings on the current French reform on school schedules "réforme des rythmes scolaires". His answer? You should not need to give more hours of teaching to children. Repeating is less important than providing high quality education from the start. I'll let you ponder.

The not so happy PISA ranking, whether you look at it from the point of view of France or the US. First column was reading, middle column is maths and the last one is sciences.

I hope you LOVE that picture of a blue robin Sara spotted because while I was looking at it in the air, I saw at the last minute a fallen branch and badly twisted my ankle on it. Two days of bandages and icing later, I can happily affirm it was only a minor sprain, but still a less-than-ideal situation in the midst of midterms, moving out and generally  playing tourist.

The happy gang!

Apparently, in the US, tackling tough topics in young adult litterature means talking about sex, from abuse to the quest to find one's own identity to simple coming-of-age stories, if it evokes sexuality even slightly, then many people will find it taboo. I'm sad to think such similar puritan movements are gaining visibility in France too. I believe teenagers should be able to access without shame books depicting honestly every aspects of real life, even the not so rosy ones.

This is me with my foot in a sink full of icy water. Praise the Holiday Inn for free, unlimited ice machines.

Boston Central Public Library (ou au moins son rez-de chaussé, aile ouest)

C'est posté un peu en retard, mais dimanche dernier, j'ai été à la Bibliothèque Publique Centrale de Boston, celle située à Copley. J'en ai déjà discuté un peu ici, et du coup, je n'ai pas rajouté des photos des façades. Elles sont très belles pourtant, et les maximes qui les adornent en lettres géantes, clamant que la bibliothèque a été construite par les citoyens du Massachussetts pour leur propre instruction, et ainsi la perpétuation de leur démocratie, me parlent beaucoup, l'accès à l'éducation ayant toujours été une cause me tenant à coeur. 

 J'ai été un peu stupide, je n'y suis allé qu'une heure et quart avant la fermeture. Résultat, je suis loin d'avoir percé tous les secrets de ce bâtiment majestueux, mais ce n'est pas grave : j'y retournerai ! 

J'ai commencé par passer du temps tout simplement dans l'entrée. Même le vestibule était intéressant.

I went to the Boston Public Library, but it was so big I couldn't see it all. It probably started when I spent a good 15 mintues in the entrance hall, because there were so many interesting details, like this statue of Governor Henry Vane, a fredom of religion advocate.

Muses' statues stand in front of the building, and are once again featured on the doors at the entrance. Here are music and poetry.

Seriously though, I would have been happy to spend the hour looking at the ceiling...

Je suis tombée sur une cour intérieure, et comme pour celle du Gardner, l'enchantement a été immédiat. C'est sûr, je vais retourner faire mes readings entourée par le bruit chantant des fontaines très vite.

Beautiful little courtyard. I want to go there angain and study with the fountain in the background soon!

I find this statue particularly touching. Not sure of what it is supposed to illustrate, but given that this is a library, I like to think this is an allegory of knowledge transmission, and more generally of education as food for the mind and soul, something that with the dancing nymph, willtransform you into a more complete, happy human being.

La salle des cartes avait une exposition très intéressante (surtout pour moi !) sur l'enseignement de la géographie à l'école au fil des siècles. Globe en carton pliable, jeux de société pour "visiter l'Amérique", extraits de romans de Mark Twain, photographies du début du XXème siècle... Les sources étaient vraiment variées et tout était pensé pour rendre cette petite exposition vivante, avec activités à la hauteur des plus jeunes visiteurs, par exemple.

The map center had a small but fascinating exhibition on the teaching of geography in American schools throughout history. Lots of diverse sources were available, it was very engaging. Need I precise that education, including its history, is a huge interest of mine?

Comme cette carte pédagogique des Etats-Unis datant de 1835. Un aigle, symbole du pays, a été dessiné par dessus pour aider les enfants à mémoriser la position des différents Etats. La Floride est par exemple représentée par les serres de l'oiseau.

This 1835 map of the US uses the design of the national eagle to help children remember the position of the different States by associating them with body parts of the animal. For example, Florida would be the bird's legs.

J'aurais voulu vous offrir plus de photographies, comme celle particulièrement détaillée et fascinante de la leçon de géographie en 1909 dans un institut pour enfants sourds,  mais l'éclairage sur les vitrines a rendu les résultats peu concluants. En revanche, j'ai pris le temps de lire l'un des albums mis à la disposition des jeunes visiteurs, Henry's Map, l'histoire adorable d'un petit cochon qui se met en tête de cartographier la ferme où il habite et se dessine sur sa carte. Mais comment faire quand sa position dans la réalité n'est pas exactement la même que sa position dans la réalité ? Une manière pleine d'humour d’aborder les liens entre réel et écrit avec des petits. (Je suis en train de lire pleins de livres et études sur l'alphabétisation par le jeu pour mon cours sur le jeu et le développement, donc soyez patients, parce que je lis beaucoup d'albums en ce moment, à défaut d'avoir le temps pour des romans.)

The exhibition offered children's books for its youngest visitors, like this very cute album whose topic would be perfect to be build up early literacy foundations.

Et pour finir, un clin d’œil à mes parents narrateurs de "l'histoire du soir" et à tous les avides lecteurs des Belles Histoires dans le début des années 2000. J'ai passé les dix dernières minutes avant la fermeture à me balader vite fait dans la section de livres pour enfants temporaires (une plus grande, plus belle, est en rénovation et sera ouverte en mars, hâte, hâte !). Je suis tombée sur ce petit livre d'Halloween pour bambins... et je suis persuadée que cette petite sorcière a fait son apparition dans un Belle Histoire. Si ma mémoire est correcte, elle ne voulait pas aller à l'école car elle n'y avait pas d'amis, et allait même jusqu'à se construire une jumelle magique pour tromper son ennui. Ca rappelle des souvenirs à quelqu'un ?

While browsing through the children's section, I spotted this little witch. I'm positive I read her adventures as a kid, some tale in which she did not want to go to school because she had no friends. Does that ring any bell?