teach the children

I’m really fucking sick of this prototype: Asian American male who only dates white women.

I’m done with your internalized shit. YA’LL have so many fucking problems going on. Don’t fucking reach out to me. Fuck you and your internalized white supremacy.

Have fun teaching “your beautiful mixed children”* the same problematic views that you already uphold.

one of my classes this semester is about inclusive practices in education and how to support and effectively teach children with disabilities and i was already excited for it but im reading the lecture notes for the first week now and there’s slides about ableism and why it’s important to acknowledge that it exists (and challenge it) and slides about different types of exclusion (macro and micro) and now i’m even more excited


Photographer:Zozo Mposula. My name is Christina. I am 24 years old. I am Danish-Kenyan and live in Copenhagen. I am currently studying global nutrition and health at metropol.I love sport: fitness, soccer and running. Currently, I am in Kenya as part I my three months teaching practice at a children’s home. During my three months here I Will be weighing and measuring the children to get an understanding of their health status. …. I love traveling

okay can we all collectively agree to not immediately be like “aww, did your parents teach you that?” when children talk about their feelings on politics.don’t patronize young people who are trying to be informed or make them feel like their opinion is insignificant. like, just don’t discourage kids who are enthusiastic about politics?

I have plans.

For March! “But it’s February. Why?” you may be asking. Well, the short answer is that I plan too far in advance for most things.

The longer answer is that the above are some drastic goals compared to my current lifestyle and I want to spend the next few weeks working up to it. I also thought about why I want to be healthy. I want to prevent long term health problems by being healthy now. I want to teach my children to love themselves at any size and to be healthy adults. And, damnit, I want to go to Target and not cry because nothing fits or everything looks atrocious on me.

Bust out ye ole Crayola and start doodling your own fitness trackers! TAG ME IN IT. I love this shit. I live for it. Cute little doodles.

“RAM UP SON! You can’t keep running away from challenges! You can’t wandering off in some silly dream land! You are a RAM, ACT LIKE ONE!”

// Terrance’s dad, Bryan have been leader of the flock many times, the time of challenge is important to him and he never says no to one and he does well to try and teach his children that, Terrance is the only one that won’t even TRY to stand up for himself. He has landed into more trouble than most for not being a strong sheeptaur. Weaklings are not often tolerated.

When we teach a child to make good decisions, we benefit from a lifetime of good decisions.  When we teach a child to love to learn, the amount of learning will become limitless.  When we teach a child to deal with a changing world, she will never become obsolete.  When we are brave enough to teach a child to question authority, even ours, we insulate ourselves from those who would use their authority to work against each of us.  And when we give students the desire to make things, even choices, we create a world filled with makers.
The Unmagical Magicians

I don’t often write essays about books, but The Magicians struck such a nerve that it turned out to be necessary.

The Magicians, by Lev Grossman

The Magicians is a fantasy book for those who find all other fantasy books a load of do-gooder heroic codswallop. A magical academy story supposedly made more relatable by framing it through the much more “realistic” lens of literary fiction. With all the tics—the sad sack but brilliant protagonist! the condescension! the cynicism! my parents ignore me! women are an alien race who might be bangable!—that make that just as much of a genre as the fantasy it disdains. I can’t wait til our culture outgrows its inexplicable need to valorize its Holden Caulfields.

It IS an exquisite portrait of everything that’s wrong with NYC’s “elite” teenagers, consumingly success-oriented, hyper-competitive, stifled, completely jaded, any spark driven out of them by too much homework.

Brakebills, the magical college, is hyper-competitive, hyper-academic, and joyless. The school is structured to be deliberately divisive, and learning together is only done extremely guardedly, if at all. Students see their peers’ successes as a failure in their own records. The teachers all seem genuinely interesting from what glimpses we get of them, but we see very little of them and they never seem to impart any of their own experience or context into their lessons, instead sticking with rote study and drills. Magic is homework, and these jaded students learn it with the same disinterested discipline they had once applied to their AP Chemistry classes. 

These students are not excited about having stumbled into the world of magic (except for Penny, who is mocked from beginning to end for his enthusiasm). There is nothing exciting or delightful about this magic. They acknowledge the magical realm with the same sense of entitled privilege a certain set of nonmagical kids feel about their crucial-but-inevitable acceptance to Harvard or Yale. With the feeling of wonderment removed, these poor sods are stuck drudging away toward some abstract academic success just as they’ve been drudging their entire lives. They’re desperate to do well at school because they have been impressed with how elite it is, not because any of them seem to be interested in the actual magic at all.

Because who would be such a NERD to actually enjoy anything, ever?

This is the way you train dark wizards, fostering competition, scorn, pride, and isolation, emphasizing the superiority of knowledge over communication, teaching mastery by rote, systematically eradicating what little compassion and empathy these wretched kids may once have possessed.

“You’re magicians because you’re unhappy. A magician is strong because he feels pain. He feels the difference between what the world is and what he would make of it… A magician is strong because he hurts more than others. His wound is his strength. Most people carry that pain around inside them their whole lives, until they kill the pain by other means, or until it kills them. But you, my friends, you found another way: a way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel, for light and warmth. You have learned to break the world that has tried to break you.”

This is Professor Fogg, dean of the school, delivering the final lesson of their time at Brakebills, teaching them that pain is the core of life and power and they should go forth and break the world with it. And in case it wasn’t clear enough that this attitude is not exactly of the Light Side, he then tattoos them with a trapped demon, marking them with it physically on their own bodies without consent. As a graduation “gift”.

The Brakebills kids don’t realize they’re being trained to be terrible…but they are. Is it any surprise that the majority of graduates are funneled into think tanks and high-powered banking? Perfect fit.

So what on earth makes this gang think they’re heroes in any way? By what right do they enter the world of Fillory feeling entitled to a hero’s role and hero’s reward? Don’t you become a hero by strong moral compass, compassion, and a calling to help? The Brakebills gang have no such qualities. This charming little speech from Quentin is their idea of heroic:

“I don’t want to sound crass, but Ember and Umber are the big shots around here, right? I mean of all those people…they’re the most powerful? And morally righteous or whatever? Let’s be clear on this for a second, I want to be sure we’re backing the right horse. Or ram. Whatever.”

Fucking hipsters.

This is a vivid illustration of the “everyone is the hero of his own story” delusion, except I’m not sure the storytelling is intentionally being leveraged that way.

I need this world to contain another secret wizard academy, the opposite number to Brakebills, some hippy dippy liberal arts wizarding school where they learn how to think holistically, how to communicate, how to engage their curiosities, how to share ideas and work together, how to embrace the weird stuff without self-deprecation or scorn; where they exercise their compassion and apply the context of the greater world, its history and its communities, to their work. Where they can grow not just in power but as humans. AKA what I would think of as…the Good Guys.

I did enjoy a lot of the imagery throughout, which was lyrical enough to convey aromas and breezes and quality of light. The bit where they all get transformed into canada geese (an appropriately jerky bird choice) was deeply, viscerally satisfying. And I had fun with the smattering of very specific references to NYC geography.

As an illumination of just what can go wrong when certain social values are taken to their most cynical extreme (“What are they teaching children in these schools…”) I think the book’s terrifically successful. But if we’re meant to be on board with this cynicism, somehow finding satisfaction and commonality in the meanness of this version of the world, then I’ll stay right over here with Aslan and Prof McGonagall* thanks very much.

*Yeah, McGonagall. I wouldn’t swear Dumbledore hadn’t occasionally been a guest lecturer at Brakebills.

699. Fleur made sure to teach not just her own children, but all her nieces and nephews French because she'd hated how she'd always been the one to have to make the effort to speak English with everyone else. The cousins loved it, and were able to communicate with each other when they were at Hogwarts without anyone else understanding.

submitted by the-elevator-kids