On level ground I study the newly unveiled sculpture, sensing that Picasso’s untitled work celebrates art, rather than the rights and duties of citizens… but then I watch kids my age climb on and slide down its base, and am not so sure. His untitled sculpture looks different from all angles.

Picasso never visited our city, but he set the stage for placing monumental modern art in the Loop. Prophesy foretold by Mayor Daley, what was so strange then is so familiar now. The Chicago Picasso celebrates events, birthdays, holidays, sports, and home openers.  It dons a Blackhawks cap, Chicago Bears helmet, or party hat, weathering the extreme winters and baking hot summers – an icon and landmarked symbol of civic pride.

Referencing our news display, Picasso Exhibited in Paris, Friday, 6/24

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My mother’s suspicious words haunt me; traveling from our basement locker to the Chicago pound, the bicycles are right where she anticipated — now at public auction, along with dozens of others belonging to any number of anonymous kids. Figures are called off loudly, but dumbfounded, I can barely make out the garbled amounts.  My parents are silent and frowning, as we are wheeled around, shepherded into our father’s arms, and steered towards the dismal exit.

Banana seats are all the rage — the high handlebars, extra long seats and cushioning, flower power designs and psychedelic swirls, are bliss. I recall how my parents saved up for them in time for the Spring, the joy of racing half-way down the block to the beach, my brothers dancing their glistening spokes like comets to the tune of an ice cream truck at the curb.

One solitary key left with the building, our storage space was never vandalized, or curiously anything else taken – the lock, never broken, just opened and closed again while we were away that long summer. In the early autumn months, there are more strange occurrences. Three Doberman pinschers die from rat poison in the back alley — a bold black swastika soon marking the German janitor’s garage door. Intolerant of our back yard games and neighbor’s noisy pets, he never liked kids or dogs, that much is eerily certain.

I know we won’t ever buy back our stolen bicycles or figure out what happened, but I save $100 from babysitting on weekends over the next couple of years. So determined I am one day to purchase a new, grass green Maserati which we pass safely along to my youngest brother when I leave for college.

Referencing our Demo Class, Beijing Bicycle, with Roberta Seret, Thursday, 2/3

Click to see the captured event, courtesy of TC Office of the Web.

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Those weekly trips to the library with my mother did something to me as a kid.  I loved that place.  I loved how it was a place where I could learn, where I could marvel at the beautiful illustrations in the children’s books I checked out, and where, as I got older, could have discussions with my mother (who had wanted to become a writer) about the books she was reading. Most importantly, the library was a place that provided the tools to improve my family’s literacy skills and love for learning. This was especially important as I entered school and, as a result, came to read to my recently arrived immigrant parents in English (they wanted to pick up English vocabulary), and in return, they read to me in Spanish.

I sometimes wonder how/if others have been influenced by the library and if this has led them to be a part of education (It has for me!). I wonder how kids now, especially in the age of video games and the internet, will remember their childhood library days. And finally, I wonder if my students will remember the day I told them that they were not going to be able to go to the library. (We had been learning about poverty in other countries and the differences in basic community resources between those my students had, and I felt, sometimes took for granted, and those communities in poverty had). My refusal to allow them to go sparked a great conversation, and I hope, allowed them to understand their community and the resources at their disposal a little bit better.

FYI: Yes, I did annoying things like this to my students once in a while…they got used to it.   Oh, and just so you know, we did go to the library that day, I would have had a revolt on my hands if we hadn’t.

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The small nutcracker doll on my sill guards the window, though I barely sleep the night before. Driving along the quiet, icy lake front in our old blue Buick feels like an almost other worldly passage to a frozen magical moment. We slowly make our way across East Congress Street, whose white-laced tree branches capture a red cardinal heralding in the Christmas season. We wait with baited breadth for Act II of The Nutcracker Suite.

Tchaikovsky is heavenly, like the Land of Sweets. I see an enchanted Russia in the glass mirror of the distant lake, blue peppermint icicles in the backdrop. Clara and her Prince are welcomed by the Sovereign of Sweets who elegantly ushers in a colorful celebration of foreign dances. We savor chocolate, coffee, and tea in the air, hungry for something more. Ethereal and delicate, the Sugar Plum Fairy, in glimmering, white satin and silk, pirouettes exquisitely across the stage and circles toe-to-toe around her cavalier. Her layered netting recalls a fairy’s wings, light, almost transparent. She is far sweeter than dragee — an unearthly vision of grace and beauty, far surpassing a school girl’s quiet dream.

Referencing Our News Display: The Nutcracker Suite Premiers in Russia, Monday, 12/20

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Alice Miller

I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but for the psychology folk out there, take note.  Alice Miller is absolutely, without a doubt, a must read.  Even if you have never studied psychology or counseling and never plan to, as long as you have been a child, (and I think it’s fairly safe to say that most of us were once children) I promise you will find her work at the very least fascinating, even if you don’t end up having the same life altering experience I had.  I remember browsing around Barnes & Nobles’ psychology section a couple years ago, no doubt procrastinating on actually reading my assigned work for my counseling courses, when I stumbled upon Alice Miller’s most well known book, “The Drama of the Gifted Child.”  I joined the other B & N customers on the floor reading their various selections, and at that moment, my journey began.  From the very first page, from the very first sentence, I was hooked.  In fact I was probably hooked just from the art work on the front cover (see my posted image at the top), which I later discovered was done by Alice Miller herself.  There was something deep and sorrowful from the abstract picture on the front, that drew me in immediately.  I remember I was killing time before meeting up with a friend, and it was one of the few moments in my life where I was actually disappointed to have to put a book down to go be social.  I didn’t have the time or money to make the purchase that day, so I went back a couple weeks later and sealed the deal.  At long last, I finally had acquired my first Alice Miller, which turned out to be my first of many.  People in my life who I am close with know her as an icon for me, in fact I’m pretty sure they’re all tired of hearing me bring her up in conversations, which I can’t seem to resist doing.  But it’s safe to say she’s taken on an almost biblical level of importance for me.  If there was a church that prayed to the God of Alice Miller, I would not only be there, I would probably be begging to lead a few sermons.

So after all this hype, what is Alice Miller all about?

Radishes.  She has done in depth research into the untold story of radishes.  Just wanted to make sure I haven’t lost you.

I hope you’ll explore her writing at some point, since I’m not sure I could do her justice.  But to summarize, she writes about children and the relationships between children and parents.  She was a psychoanalyst for many years, until she became cynical of the intentions and motivations of many psychoanalysts and instead, began writing about her own experiences with uncovering her unconscious and getting in touch with the pain, anger, and deep loss she felt as a child.  She first discovered her unconscious experiences through her abstract paintings (see “Pictures of a Childhood“) and then decided to embark on a mission to help others get more in touch with their past hurts.  If you’re in the helping professions, whether it is as a nurse, a social worker, a therapist, a psychologist, a psychoanalyst, a daycare worker, or even a dog walker(!), you should definitely check her out.  She not only changed my own life and how I viewed my own past experiences, she transformed my work as a psychotherapist.

And the best part?  Teachers College Gottesman Library not only has has several of Miller’s books in the collection, linked above.  So, head over to TC Library and check her out.  You never go to TC Library?  It’s too cold to make it outside?  Like a true psychotherapist, I don’t mind getting around a little resistance.  So, I will offer you this final gem and leave you with no good excuse not to check her out: Google Books has the majority of her novel “For Your Own Good” online for your instant and free viewing pleasure.

As a recent graduate from the mental health counseling program here at TC, I just began a new position as a Family Therapist.  When I met one of my new co workers last week, naturally one of the first questions out of my mouth was, “Have you read any Alice Miller?”

My co-worker’s response:

“Alice Miller saved my life.”

Let Alice save yours too!

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Credit: Awen Photography

Hallowe’en is upon us. Most of us are too old to go trick-or-treating, including myself. This is hard for me to admit; access to a younger brother allowed me to gather candy in my small-town Maine neighborhood as late as age 23. I painted my face and concealed my height behind my preteen group of companions.

My mother made wonderful costumes for me as a child. I was She-Ra, a pumpkin, and a wizard (and this was pre-Harry Potter), but my shining moment was my Raggedy Ann costume. I even wore a red yarn wig that my patient mom had created by crocheting red yarn onto a hair net.

Here’s a couple links for the adults who want to get in the “spirit” this weekend:

First, learn something about the evolution of the holiday, “From Pagan Ritual to Party Night,” from our e-book collection.

Then, sit back with some chocolate and watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, which is currently free to view on Hulu. I watched this one many times in childhood, but I never realized just how sad it is. Chalk it up to growing up.

In her guest talk, Media for Children & the Changing Nature of Childhood in the 21st Century, Renee set the background by discussing the impact of child labor laws of the 1920s and the advent of television, featured at the World’s Fair in 1939. She expertly dug through decades of children’s television; related the larger context of social-political movements, world events, and trends of the times; and extracted questions and ideas relevant to teaching and education — and most importantly, our humanity.  Serving to promote greater educational interest in Earth, Big Blue Marble, for example, emerged after Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.  Marlo Thomas’ Free to Be You and Me launched during the women’s movement, at a time of peak divorce rates and natural consequences for children. Mr. Rogers’ famous reassurance, “I like you just the way you are,” was ministerial in outlook for the youngest generation.

One could not help but be absorbed and reflective when charged with two specific tasks during Renee’s engaging presentation: 1) ponder a favorite childhood toy, game, program, or activity; and 2) forecast an event of the next decade. The responses were insightful, including, in the former instance, visits to grandma’s house, climbing trees, cooking in the garage, and watching Wild Kingdom; and in the latter, a cure for AIDS, advances in brain technology, water as the “new gold,” more bilingual schools, prevalence of online education, the end of compact discs, and more fluid concepts of nationality.

I found myself thinking of the many things I loved to do growing up in the 60s and 70s, and two things stood out, somewhat inseparable: 1) creating stained glass windows or abstract designs which took hours to color — ignoring my mother’s pleas to go play outside –each crayon important down to the last detail, and 2) playing “cops and robbers” with my three brothers and all the neighborhood kids until the street lights went on in the depths of Chicagoan summer. One was an intimate, artistic activity, and the other, a physical, social, urban game – both without technology or much adult interaction.

I predicted widespread use of the electric car from 2020 onwards, believing that “gas is gone,” and we are consciously migrating to a more ecological use of our planet. I crossed my fingers under the table and looked around; people nodded and seemed to like this concept.

With wisdom and dexterity, Renee brought all attendees into a lively conversation, leading us to reflect on our role as educators, parents, and citizens in an increasingly technological world and a “mediated future.” She contrasted virtual and augmented reality, questioning the paradox of the former and the complexity of the latter. From her personal standpoint as a teacher and lover of the Arts and Humanities, Renee made sense of the zeitgeist and circled artfully back to the concept of what it means to be human.

Referencing Guest Speaker Renee Cherow O’Leary on Media for Children & the Changing Nature of Childhood in the 21st Century, Wednesday, 7/14, 4-5:30pm

Nigerian-American author Uzodinma Iweala read from and discussed his debut novel, Beasts of No Nation (Harper Collins, 2005), as well as his forthcoming nonfictional work on AIDS/HIV in Nigeria.

Beasts tells the story of a young boy soldier, Agu, who is forced into the army in an unnamed country in West Africa. Despite his love for school and dream to become a doctor, Agu finds himself in a guerilla warfare he finds both horrifying and fascinating. He faces a series of despicable crimes that begin with the killing of an unarmed soldier, ultimately causing him to lose his religious faith. Noted for its direct and idiosyncratic use of the first person narrative, as well as provocative content, Iweala’s book has received critical acclaim in numerous sources, including The New York Times, Time Magazine, Rolling Stone, and The London Times.

The son of a doctor and foreign minister for Nigeria, Iweala attended Harvard College and earned an A.B. in English and American Literature and Language in 2004. While there he received several awards, including the Hoopes Prize and Dorothy Hicks Lee Prize for Outstanding Undergraduate Thesis (2004); Eager Prize for Best Undergraduate Short Story (2003); and the Horman Prize for Excellence in Creative Writing (2003). In 2007, Iweala was named one of 20 best young American novelists by Granta Magazine. He is currently a medical student at Columbia University and conducting an internship at Saint Luke’s Hospital.

Iweala participated in a Book Talk at the Gottesman Libraries on April 8th, 2010.