On Top of the World

                One of my favorite classes last year was Japanese Theater, which covered, obviously, forms of Japanese theater. But it also led us down diverse paths of thought to consider what can be related to the study of theater. Societal customs, taboo love, the movement of money, the trajectory of history—how all of these fit together and weave an undercurrent for stories like Dojoji and Kurozuka.

                I wrote a paper for this class on reading different styles of movement, which I recently dug up again. After discussing the different meanings attached to styles of dance in Japan, I wrote:

“This idea still holds true today, even in much of modern American society. In a way, American society, like other societies around the world, has fetishized certain qualities of movement—giving the movement more significance than it holds in itself. A prominent example can be found in the practice of women walking in high heels. In an interview situation for a high-paid corporate job, a well-dressed woman walking gracefully in high heels will immediately make a better impression than another woman wearing loafers or sneakers. Although wearing sneakers does not signify anything about the second woman’s job capabilities, the interviewer will subconsciously infer information about the second woman from her footwear. The first woman will come across a certain way simply because of her movement, and the accoutrement she has chosen to accentuate that movement. High heels carry certain connotations—desirability, confidence, wealth—and being able to navigate them automatically conveys a clear message to an interviewer, even though the movement does not reveal information that is directly linked to the first woman’s job qualifications. Like the Japanese prostitute or the merchant’s daughter, the woman in high heels has internalized the idea that a certain movement will carry a particular impression along with it.

Thus, we can see that the idea of bodily knowledge is not limited to the dancer’s or mover’s own experience. Rather, we can think of every decision regarding movement—what shoes we wear, what dances we choose to study—as a conscious performative act, since all decisions about movement are linked to a particular set of impressions in our viewer’s mind. Movement is action, and actions make up life. Thus viewers often extrapolate a meaning from movement that is then applied to an understanding of an individual’s life, whether that extrapolation is correct or not.”

I don’t know why I suddenly thought of this paper. Maybe it was because I was waiting in line for a coffee and saw a rare sight on the UChicago campus: a young woman wearing a chic raspberry trench over a black dress with a pair of sky-high, absolutely beautiful heels. I immediately, and perhaps shallowly, admired her a little more and couldn’t help wondering where she was going, or where she had come from. It’s particularly relevant to me because I’m still confined to this clunky medical boot, and though I longingly peruse the espadrille section of Nine West, I know it will be a while before I feel perfectly, confidently myself again.

National Brands

The Wall Street Journal recently featured an interesting article about a Peruvian man's lonely campaign to change the Peruvian national anthem, which starts with such uplifting, pride-inspiring lyrics as:

"For a long time, the oppressed Peruvian dragged the ominous chain."

:(

The article talked about how other nations had also considered (and mostly rejected) changes to their national anthems, in an era marked by consciousness of "national branding".

The phrase struck me as quite strange, especially since it was casually thrown into the conversation as if it represented a part of daily global conversation.

When I think of national brands, I tend to think of actual brands. After traveling to China, for example, I realized that there is no better ambassador for a positive American image abroad than the clean, shining interior of a convenient and delicious McDonald's.

Oh hey there.

Is a national anthem really part of a country's overall image? Forgive me if this is merely ignorance, but no anthems really come to mind when I think of other countries...ask me to hum a few bars of Britain, France, Russia, or even China's national anthem, and I don't think I could do it. And we haven't even gotten to lyrics yet.

I suppose, however, that anthems were originally intended to represent the country, at least to its own citizens. America's anthem calls to mind glory in war, honoring the flag, lovely fireworks arching over a twinkly star-filled sky...all clearly very "American" facets of our culture. So is this focus on national anthems, and the desire to change them to reflect changing times (such as the removal of God from Russia's national anthem, or expunging a cry to crush the 'rebel Scots' in Britain's), a relevant reflection of a national identity crisis? Since almost all of the countries features in the article voted overwhelmingly to keep their national anthems the same, I guess that might mean that national identity is as strong as ever. But if anthems are no longer heralds of national identity, then what, if anything, really makes up the "national brand"? 

If such a thing exists. 

You can find the original article here: 

"Oh, Say, Can You See New Lyrics For This Anthem?"

Yum.

Black Swan.

Tangled.

Go see them now.

I eat, therefore I am.

There is something strange about our household. At least once a day, the Food Network is on, with its cheerful images of food that the viewer can neither taste nor smell--and you would think that no one would watch such shows, since it's essentially like putting an orchestra of well-dressed musicians on a screen, then pressing the mute button.

So why do I love the Food Network? I can't really cook, and I don't even attempt baking. The food on the show is very different from what I eat at home--I watch specials on southern-style barbecue and Italian food while eating my rice.

I thought maybe it was the comfort of watching experts and their deft handling of a craft that is still a world away from me--but if that were the case, then I'd get a huge kick out of watching golf. And it can't quite be the personalities that draw me in every time, since I find Paula Deen slightly horrifying, Bobby Flay annoying, and Sandra Lee the devil herself.

I will semi-homemake your soul into submission.

Why does anyone watch the Food Network? Is watching people make a cake really that interesting? (yes, but why?) Do you really glean useful tips and recipes from the shows? If I want to make anything, I always end up going to the website for the recipe...but in that case, why not just have the website without the tv? Writing about this is making me want to watch Iron Chef America.

For that matter, why have I started reading Slashfood, the blog about food trends? I can't even really call myself a foodie, since I'm limited by a student's budget even in a foodie paradise like Chicago. I'm genuinely puzzled by this. Maybe I'm masochistic, making myself drool over food that I'll probably never eat.

Either way, I hope I come out of this whole phase (if it is a phase, which I'm starting to doubt) a better cook. What do you think? I wonder if other people have truly inexplicable interests.

A lesson.

I recently had an interesting conversation with my boss at Kumon, a math and reading tutoring center that in my native Ohio is a hotbed of overachieving Indian and Asian kids. However, here in Chicago, the second-story suite at 55^th and Lake Park paints a very different picture.

You can feel the desperation in the waiting room. Parents whose children are in seventh grade and can’t do addition yet flip aimlessly through the magazines that my boss leaves out there randomly (we boast a copy of Skymall from 2000…). These are not the parents who form our friend circle in Dayton. They range from high school dropouts to high-powered lawyers, all crammed in this airless room that smells of our janitor’s unwashed hair, craning their necks to see what I’m teaching their children. They need this center, and this center needs them—my boss admitted that he loses about half of his students every year at December (though it’s yet to happen this year), perhaps because parents can’t keep up with the tuition (around $100 per subject per month). Then again, what choice do they have now?

It was Sunday, and I was sitting in front of the center’s tired Toshiba laptop, typing in test scores because my boss still insists on using paper records instead of cutting out that middle step. I don’t complain. Actually I do, endlessly, but never to his face.

While browsing his emails for him, I noticed that one of his Chrome tabs was open to the recently published article on Shanghai’s PISA scores. As some of you may know, China recently entered the international standardized-testing ring. The New York Times basically shit its pants over how high the Shanghai test scores were—although why that should be surprising, I have no idea. I mean, what are Asian kids known for, besides being whizzes at math and piano? I may be the only known exception on Earth.

Anyway, my boss and I got into a discussion of the current educational system in America, which I’ve become fascinated with ever since I started working here. I mean, we’re tutoring this woman who’s going to take the Illinois teaching exam for the third time, and she can’t answer the question:

“What percent of 36 is 30?”

(Incidentally, an English major at UChicago told me laughingly that she wasn’t even sure she’d be able to do that, which…didn’t quite make me laugh.)

America currently ranks around 30^th in the world in reading and math, and yet some of my peers don’t see much reason to be very concerned. People crow about American innovation, without realizing that people down the street from them have children who are thirteen and can’t yet read a picture book. What can we do? We read about all the latest gimmicks, school districts complaining that they can’t teach because they don’t have the latest computer system. But I think it goes deeper than that.

We need a change in cultural perspective before anything else. There are many things wrong with the Chinese system, and I’ll be the first to admit it, but the one lesson that Americans should take from this might be the Chinese “culture of education”, as the Times put it. China has long placed emphasis on filial duty and respect for elders, so that children think of teachers as people who actually have something to teach them. There’s no complaining about students being “overworked” or “pressured” just because they have two quizzes in one day—successful students in China recognize that they are just that: students. Education is the focus, and as a result, Chinese students are on the rise in the world. Although American universities are still on top and still attract the highest caliber of students from around the world, the day is coming when other nations will have the resources to challenge American universities. Already, we see an increased number of international students leaving America after school to return to their native countries, taking their new skills back with them.

Of course, respect for teachers goes hand in hand with all of this. The woman who can’t figure percents is admirable for wanting to go into the teaching, but that doesn’t mean she should be allowed to. In all likelihood, she will eventually pass the test—with tutors holding her hand every step of the way. 

What’s going to happen when she faces a classroom of seventh graders, most of whom do math at the 4^th grade level?

We need to make the teaching profession what it ought to be: a respected calling, with pay that corresponds to the hard work good teachers put in. It’s almost criminal that people who get up at 5 in the morning every day to shape America’s future barely make enough to be considered middle class. Of course, I may be biased, being the daughter of two professors. But I’ve seen and experienced firsthand what a difference good teachers can make, and how far we can be set back by mediocre ones.

My boss asked me whether I think what made America great still lingers in its soil and its people. In his opinion, if we can reach back to our roots, we can remain on top forever, and I agree. But if we don’t adjust soon, we lose that chance. So what exactly was it that made this country the beautiful place it is today? How can we fight the double-edged sword of complacent arrogance and helplessness in the face of our educational problems? We owe it to ourselves to think this over.