Big Questions, Worthy Dreams

As an undergrad in student ministry, I never imagined that I would be pursuing a degree in education, and even less so that I would love it. Most of my thoughts on formal education systems seemed to circle around to my favorite Captain America line in The Avengers: "Hulk, SMASH!" You can blame it on my homeschooliness, but you can't deny that there are some pretty messed up things going on in our schools. Education majors often get on my nerves, putting together their cute little lesson plans and focusing on the how-tos of teaching instead of dwelling on how the system as a whole must and could be reformed.

I am able to acknowledge the fault in my logic, however, when I also say that college is one of the best things that ever happened to me. College gave me access to information, not in the sense that the internet does so, but information mediated by wise adults whom I trust to direct me in ways of thinking and discerning between what is important and what is not in most fields. Not all students feel this way; many of them love the people they lived with, or the co-curriculars they participated in. For me, however, stepping on to Geneva's campus was stepping into a wonderland of opportunity for learning and growth.

Geneva College and the amazing friends and mentors with whom I have studied during the past six years were an excellent backdrop to my reading of Sharon Parks' book Big Questions, Worthy Dreams for the 52x52. Parks' target group is "young adults," by which she means "twenty-somethings," and it was interesting to read her perspective and research on people like me. I believe I am in a unique position, however, to compare her observations to my own, and I was glad to say that for the most part I felt well-represented in both theory and practice.

Parks spends the first half of her book explaining and maneuvering through developmental learning theories in multiple areas to describe "young adults" as a group who have exited adolescence, but have not yet reached mature adulthood. She talks about development in terms of a journey (that is, movement away from what is familiar in search of truth) as well as homecoming (that is, discovering how each of us may be at home in the world and in our communities as we continue this search for truth). Her conclusion is that thing we need most to reach mature adulthood are good mentors and mentoring communities. The second half of the book is devoted to descriptions of the benefits and possibilities of these mentoring relationships.

As a student of higher ed, I was excited to read this because it gives me a more manageable perspective on my students and peers. Many of the learning theories that Parks works with have been presented to me in classes and I feel as if I finally understand how theory can be used in meaningful ways. Parks' illustrations and anecdotes from her interaction with students were excellently chosen, and I looked forward to block quotes (craziness!).

The thing that really stood out to me about the book, however, was the recurring theme of journey and homecoming, and how deeply those ideas resonated in my experience. When I was just a freshman in HUM103, I wrote a paper for the end of the class wherein I described my sense of my own narrative as that of "the wanderer," a character without a home and with an uncertain future, looking for something of deep meaning and content with a meager portion in the meantime. This is still very true of my perspective. Through the last five years, however, more has been added to the narrative - people and places have brushed, bumped, and sometimes taken up residence in my life in such a way that I have come to know the value of a mentoring environment and community. Not only do I know its value, I cannot imagine leaving it. In higher education, the wanderer caught a glimpse of home and began the long walk toward interdependence and community.

As I think about this read for the 52x52, I would say that it was helpful personally, in that I was able to reflect on my experience and growth, as well as the long trudge still ahead of me on my way to maturity. However, it has also given me a better perspective on the bigger picture of education; as much as I still want to shake it up (a little revolution now and again is a good thing), I can no longer say, "Ceci, SMASH!" Since it may someday pay my bills, I suppose that is a healthy improvement.

code name verity: definitely a book review

In a world where young adult books and media are filled with romance, angst and sex, I was in search of an "easy" read to kickstart my fiction reading for 52x52, and I wisely approached my good friend Anna for a recommendation to help me avoid being dragged into another Twilight experience. Somehow in my teen years I skipped right over the young adult fiction section of our library in favor of high fantasy and historical adult fiction, with the exception of that unfortunate saga, and I am wary of wandering in that direction without assistance. True to form, Anna was most helpful - I was given my choice of seven books, each with its own unique recommendations and warnings. Being in a thoughtful mood, I gamely selected the volume associated with "beautiful friendship" and "deep emotional trauma." It was that, and so much more.

Elizabeth Wein's code name verity is the first person narrative of a British intelligence officer caught in German-occupied France in the throes of WWII. Knowing that a bullet to the head is the most likely end to her time with the Gestapo, and in order to avoid (or at least lessen) the torture inflicted on her, she agrees to write down everything she knows of the British War Effort, although not quite in the way her antagonists might expect. Doing justice to the literary traditions she loves, the story she weaves is full to overflowing with love, joy, sorrow, and pain... and a deep, abiding friendship that comes more fully to life with each successive page.

If I tell you any more, I will have said far too much. The first reason I loved this book was because it gave me new insight into the European arena of World War II, in part because it was a woman's perspective, but also because of its attention to geography. In this book, as in the war, more than winning and losing are at stake; the enemy threatens the very things that make us human, and casts a pall over the glory and beauty of the country it invaded first: Germany.

Anna was right - emotional trauma is the best way to describe the experience, but not in a depressing way. Wein's writing is open and honest; her characters' personality and pain are intertwined on the page, and are a reflection of the hope and pain combined in the allied forces whose job it was to fight the Nazi regime. And all of it is made possible through the breathtakingly poignant story of two girls who had the sense to realize that they had met their best friend.

And they make a sensational team.

*****

As an aside, I hope I don't insult anyone by saying that I wish Suzanne Collins had given her brilliant idea for the Hunger Games books to Elizabeth Wein, because code name verity accomplished everything that the Hunger Games promised but failed to deliver in terms of emotional impact, character development, and cultural critique.