Cultured Kids

I usually write about my family.  But, sometimes my professional and personal lives collide.  When that happens, I write about my kids at home as well as my kids at school.  Recently, both sets of kids have been teaching me about culture. 

 My high school students tend to be fairly worldly, in that they have already had many challenging experiences.  They typically are forced to focus on survival - paying the rent and securing their next meal.  Early in my career as a teacher, I realized that I could not solve their problems by taking out my checkbook.  (Actually, if my bank account were deep enough, this would probably be a fine solution.)  So, I have to believe that education has the power to enlighten and make better the lives that I touch every day. 

A few days ago, my students and I were discussing the concept of a "role model" and what constitutes a "good" role model.  They quickly ruled out substance abusers and womanizers (a new word in Spanish for me!).   I was thrilled when, as a group, they agreed that their beloved Brazilian soccer player was a good role model not because of his athletic ability, but because he had adopted a child.  Then, I praised my students for their ability to read and interpret our text and said that I was proud of how much English they had acquired. 

 One student looked at me and said, "Yeah, but we're not as smart as "Roland," are we?"

This was a reference to a European student whose father is in the U.S. as a diplomat.  This student was already enrolled in a university before he came to the U.S.

"Yes," another student offered.   "We're not nearly as smart."

Wow.  Clarifying moment for me.  It's not that I don't know my students well.  But, they seldom voice their perceptions of themselves. 

I began a monologue about the difference between education and intelligence, assuring my students that they are quite intelligent and need only to continue taking advantage of the opportunities that life offers.  The room was silent as they listened and thought about whether or not to believe me.  I left my classroom that day feeling their despair and determined to reinvent myself yet again to help them.

Going through the mail that evening, I glanced at a parenting magazine with a feature article about raising "cultured kids."  I looked out the window just in time to see Lacey run by swinging a four-foot stick.  Hmmmm.  Maybe I do need to work on the "cultured" piece a little.

I thought about the words "culture" and "cultured."  Not long ago I wrote about Lacey's early ventures into the meaning of "culture," and how she had defined culture as "music, clothing, language and food."  If the rules of language apply, then one who is "cultured," should be well versed in music, language, etc.  Yet, the motherly part of my brain interprets "cultured" as "refined," or one who recognizes the value of using a napkin instead of her sleeve!  So, what does "cultured" really mean?  I whipped out my beloved Thesaurus and read that "cultured" also means "refined." (Big sigh of relief because I'm not wrong.  Come on, I do plan to share this publicly.)  But really, this is why I love language.  Is a cultured child one who is well versed in the arts, or one who has refined manners?

Thanks to the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, "Culture" can be defined as "the act of developing the intellectual and moral faculties, especially by education."  Or, alternatively it can be defined as, "acquaintance with and taste in fine arts, humanities, and broad aspects of science as distinguished from vocational and technical skills."  Well, the first is the definition that I want to apply to my students.  I decided that a trip to the art museum is just what the teacher ordered.  As far as my own children, I decided to choose the second definition.  And a family field trip to the art museum would be just what the mom ordered. 

On Friday, I brought home some children's books about great artists.  I turned off the TV, declaring that there would be no more Nickelodeon this weekend!  We began reading about Matisse and Monet, and Cassie prattled on and on because, of course, she already knew more than what was conveyed in these simple books.  Lacey grabbed the book about Matisse and struggled to understand why his painting, "The Dance" is considered one of the most important modern works.

"Mommy,' she exclaimed.  "I got it.  An artist paints somebody's booty!"  She hopped off her chair and ran back to the TV.  Well, at least it's a start!

An Impressionist Kid

An Impressionable Kid