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FA L L 2 0 1 0 / W I N T E R 2 0 1 1 Table of Contents Puzzling Through the Years: Friends’ Central Commencement Address 2010 ............. William Kennedy .................. 2 No Time for Pause.................................. Michelle Crowley .................. 7

Finally, My Freedom Ride .................... Gary Nicolai......................... 10

A Cultural Exchange. . .and More ........ Rochelle Ostroff-Weinberg and students of French at FCS....................... 15

Ferdinand on Retreat ............................. Megan Schumacher ............ 21 Behind the Classroom: Ninth Grade Teachers Discuss the Book of Job......................... Al Vernacchio....................... 25

Education is not a preparation for life, education is life itself.

—John Dewey

Editor: Marilyn Lager, Director, Friends’ Central’s Blackburn Library Email: mlager@friendscentral.org Asst. to Editor: Steven Patterson, Upper School English Teacher

A glimpse into Friends’ Central history: A collection of old footballs (dating back to 1916) was found in the Wood Building attic amongst other pieces from the school’s past. After visiting the space with my History of Architecture class, I felt compelled to return with my camera in order to document this chapter of Friends’ Central’s existence. —Drew Kopicki Class of 2011

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Forum is our communityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s educational journal. Faculty, alumni, board members, parents and students are encouraged to contribute opinions, ideas, innovations and observations about any aspect of their lives relating to educational experiences. Marilyn Lager Editor, Forum

Puzzling Through the Years: Friends’ Central Commencement Address 2010 By William Kennedy

Bill was co-principal and dean of faculty of the Upper School for twelve years, and he has been teaching English to Upper Schoolers for a total of twenty-one years. This year, he stepped away from his administrative position to teach English full time and to be dean of tenth grade.

Good morning, friends: My lovely wife, without whom I am nothing, gave me some public speaking advice. She told me to “Get to the point.” So, for those tweeters out there, here is the sparknotes version of my talk: Life is filled with opportunities for self-definition, some pleasant, some painful. The college years, about which you members of the class of 2010 are rightfully excited, will provide you with many such opportunities. Explore these new possibilities. Do not forget, however, your own truth along the way. Thank you.

Explore these new possibilities. Do not forget, however, your own truth along the way. Now, on to the real talk, in which I promise to offer only one piece of questionable advice. For the last dozen years, I have enjoyed, from my humble folding chair, the best vantage point for these commencement exercises. Sitting with Headmaster David Felsen and Co-Principal Beth Johnson, between the excited soon-to-be graduates on the terrace and the adoring audience on the ground, I have watched this simple, beautiful drama unfold in IMAX—like completeness. And while the players have changed from year to year, most of the roles have not. Those of us who have been here before, hoping for a cool breeze and a bit of shade, recognize the purposeful picture-takers, the teary parents and those proud grandparents. Playing the starring role in this ensemble 2

piece is this good-looking group behind me, these quietly ecstatic seniors ready for their final close-up here at Friends’ Central. Through all of these June mornings, I have been struck by how much the dynamic of this day resembles a moment every parent will remember but even the most precocious thinkers in this talented class will not. I am speaking of the newborn’s first “public appearance” in the maternity ward nursery, on display for family, friends and even strangers, there to see another baby. Wrapped in a pastel-striped receiving blanket and sporting a knit cap no matter what the season, you were already too much for that transparent bassinet to contain. You were six or seven or eight pounds of everything, a brave new world in a onesie. Even as they worried about how they might secure your tiny body in a car seat the size of a lunar module, your parents were in awe of you. Mom and dad could not believe their good fortune. Certainly that is as true today as it was then. Not everything remains the same, however.

... beginning with those first minutes in the delivery room, you have been closely watched and lovingly advised. Members of the Class of 2010, beginning with those first minutes in the delivery room, you have been closely watched and lovingly advised. This is not news to you. As you have grown older, you may have wished for a little less supervision along with more opportunities to make your own decisions. Exit interviews I have conducted with seniors over the years confirm this finding and lead me to the following conclusion: A teenager is, by definition, someone who wants more freedom than she or he currently has. Ask seniors what they are most looking forward to about next year and, nine times out of ten, you will hear the word freedom: freedom to study what I want; freedom to make my own rules; freedom to put those tattoos on my parent’s credit card. In short, teenagers want the freedom to break from the wonderfully comfortable but somehow confining environment that has supported and sustained them. This is not news to your parents. But the paradoxes do not end there. My juniors recently told me that, as teenagers, you are free to be yourself up to a point and that you can be an individual so long as you remain within certain poorly defined but truly unforgiving limits. In important ways you have had to live up to two sets of expectations, those of your peers and those of the adults in your life. A particularly apt description of these simultaneous selves can be found in “The Room in the Attic,” a story by 3

Bill Kennedy.

Steven Millhauser, a writer who well understands the excitement and mystery of the later teenage years: “I thought of myself, in those days, as someone in disguise—beneath the obedient son, beneath the straight-A student, the agreeable, well-brought-up boy with his friends and his ping pong and his semiofficial girlfriend, there was another being, restless, elusive, mocking, disruptive, imperious, and this shadowy underself had nothing to do with that other one.” While this description is, granted, a bit dark, it captures the situation in

[You are} caught between what others want for you and what you want for yourself. which you find yourselves, caught between what others want for you and what you want for yourself. The pieces of this puzzle, which I will call self-definition, are especially scattered and disparate during high school. Fortunately, if we, your teachers, have done our jobs well—and I know your parents have already done the hard work beautifully— you are now ready for the freedom you wanted, the opportunity to challenge yourselves with new experiences and greater independence. 4

For some people, college is a time of re-invention, a chance to slip into the ideal self they have been dreaming of, like Holden play-acting before the mirror or, more sadly, Gatz inhabiting Gatsby’s expensive suits. For other people, these years serve as a developmental proving ground, a never-ending test. Think of Antigone’s unwavering rectitude or Hamlet’s destructive indecisiveness. While these approaches have much to teach us, I am thinking of something else for you. Consider Hester Prynne and Huck Finn, who discovered within themselves both the courage to head into the darkness and the truth they needed to light their way. Those of you who prefer fact to fiction may look to the extraordinary lives of freedom-fighters Frederick Douglass and the Mirabel sisters. No matter where you find inspiration, let this be a time to discover and attend to your own truth for the benefit of all.

...let this be a time to discover and attend to your own truth for the benefit of all. A brief lesson from my own efforts to fit the puzzle pieces together nearly thirty years ago might give you a sense of the exciting and enlightening confusion that awaits you. My friend Todd wrote a weekly humor column for the Bi-Co News, our unfortunately named college paper. At the time, he claimed his best story ideas came to him late at night, usually when he had been asleep for several hours. His masterpiece, completed minutes before our graduation issue went to press, was a series of excerpts of the college admission essays written by several of his friends, myself included. We thought it the funniest piece ever written or, more accurately, compiled. The young men and women who had so earnestly composed those personal essays about their talents and aspirations just a few years earlier bore no relation to the people we had become. We were unrecognizable to ourselves. As you can see, I have not, in fact, taken my place among the world’s top

... how quickly we change and how completely we can, at times, forget the person we once so desperately wanted to be. biologists, nor has Todd become the commissioner of the Worldwide Ultimate Frisbee Federation, which he referred to in his essay as WUFF. I now understand that one must study biology or play frisbee in order to achieve such heights. Still, it was a startling demonstration of how quickly we change and how completely we can, at times, forget the person we once so desperately wanted to be. 5

With that in mind, and this is my only advice to you, I encourage you members of the Class of 2010 to secure a copy of your application essay in a waterproof container and bury it in your yard until you forget all about it or “disremember,” as Toni Morrison says, who you were, whichever comes first. You will not be disappointed. To get back to the subject at hand, you have been working on that puzzle of self-definition for a long time now, and you have had a lot of help. The application for admission to FCS asks parents to list “educational goals and expectations for your child.” With the exception of a few quaint specifics like, “I want him to learn to stop hitting his sister,” or “Can you teach her not to eat crayons?” the responses fall into a predictably appropriate pattern: develop a love of learning; encourage her/his imagination and creativity; become independent and self-reliant; nurture a social conscience and a strong moral core; learn to respect others—perhaps starting with his sister—and to be a good friend. Finally, nearly all of the responses I have looked at over the years include a line like this: I want her to feel good about herself, confident and secure. What your parents—and grandparents, teachers, friends, all of us here—want for you now is what your parents wanted for you when you entered school. As you move forward, arranging and rearranging the puzzle pieces of self-definition as you go, some of today’s hopes will be replaced or forgotten. Others will come to fit neatly in place. That is as it should be. The person we are all so proud of, however, the self we see before us today cannot be replaced and will not be forgotten. The puzzle is yours alone.

... you contain more possibilities than you can know. Like the newborn in the nursery, you contain more possibilities than you can know. Those of us you leave behind, beaming at you through the glass, look forward to your stories and your visits. With that in mind, let me be the first to invite you back here for lunch on the day before Thanksgiving. We will be waiting! Congratulations! Shine on!

No Time for Pause By Michelle Crowley

Michelle has taught social studies in the Middle School for seventeen years. She was awarded a sabbatical in 2010.

Having a sabbatical is a blessing (only seven more years till I can apply again!), and I can say that my time was well spent. It is amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it! I had a small window in which to complete my tasks: my family left at 7:45am, and I needed to pick up the girls from school at 3:10pm…there is no sabbatical from being a mom and doing laundry. My day, after seeing them off, consisted of some kind of run, yoga, and organizing the Chris Campbell Soccer Clinic, with goals to run on the track (something I haven’t done since high school), to become certified to teach yoga, and to continue the efforts started by Matt Bernstein ’08 and Daniel Fedder ’08, honoring the legacy of Christopher Campbell, a beloved graduate of FCS who died after his freshman year at Franklin and Marshall College. I don’t want to go into too many details about my workouts… some days were hard and others were easy. My “favorite” track workout (I use that term loosely) would be interval training of 3 sets (4X200M, with a 200M rest) with the goal of running about 38-40 seconds for each 200M. My “favorite” distance run would be running to Haverford College and back (about ten miles). If I felt good, then I ran the college Nature Trail, which added on an extra two miles. Distance runs would be my Meeting for Worship, a time that

If God was calling me to speak, then I’d pick up my pace. I could think and just be. If God was calling me to speak, then I’d pick up my pace. Yoga was something else. I never felt it to be a chore like running on the track. I practice Ashtanga Yoga, which means “eight limbs” in 7

Sanskrit and refers to the eight limbs of yoga laid out by the Yoga Sutras of Pantajali. Each limb relates to an aspect of achieving a healthy and fulfilling life and each builds upon the one before it. The Eight Limbs are: Yama—Moral Codes Niyama—Self Purification, Study Asana—Posture Pranayama—Breath Control Pratayama—Sense Control Dharana—Intention Dhyana—Meditation Samadhi—Contemplation

While Ashtanga Yoga is physically challenging, it channels energy through the body so you quickly get past the physical (breath is important here). For about an hour and a half of 75 poses, I would progress through the Michelle, in tree pose (top) primary, and sometimes secondary and triangle pose (bottom). series, beginning with the Sun Salutations and moving into the standing poses, seated poses, inversions and backbends before relaxation (my favorite part). I’ve been practicing yoga for ten years and understand that Ashtanga Yoga is not for everyone. It is a vigorous, athletic style of yoga practice, but it appeals to me because I like order and independence. The independence comes once you learn the poses, then you can lead yourself, which is called Mysore, that is you can practice at your own pace. Namaste. Organizing the Chris Campbell Soccer Clinic, a one-day, fourhour clinic for first grade through fifth grade boys and girls, became my job when Dan and Matt graduated. It is held at Friends’ Central in March. It honors the legacy of Christopher Campbell. The efforts begun by Matt and Dan (coupled with the help of Franklin and Mar-

.. .I took it upon myself to continue their efforts. .. shall College, the Friends’ Central boys’ and girls’ soccer teams, and the CTC 10 Foundation) were great. Matt and Dan set the bar high, fundraising over $25,000 in the first two years after Christopher passed away. So I took it upon myself to continue their efforts in what I hope 8

The Chris Campbell Memorial Field outside Cape Town, South Africa.

will be a long-standing tradition every spring. Playing soccer was a part of who Chris was and a way to honor him was to bring together the next generation of soccer players. His impact on the Friends’ Central School community was tremendous. He was all about fair play, win or lose. Chris lived his life with focus and determination and always had a smile on his face. He set a positive example for everyone to follow, always the first one to help and the last one to leave. I am so happy to have known him, even if for too brief a time.

I am so happy to have known him, even if for too brief a time. In addition, Franklin and Marshall College and Grass Roots Soccer set up a foundation to establish a soccer field in South Africa. In 2005, in Khayelitsha Township outside of Cape Town, South Africa, the Chris Campbell Memorial Field and Clubhouse opened, and there, on any given night and weekend, groups of children and adults come together to play the game of soccer. Its impact on that poverty stricken area is far reaching and hopefully will, like Chris, leave a lasting imprint. I was unable to participate in any track meets (but hope to do so during the winter), and I still have about 200 hours of teacher training to become yoga certified, but the Chris Campbell Soccer Clinic was a success with fifty-four participants, raising just under $5000 for the Christopher Campbell ’04 Fund for Soccer and Education. Not all of my goals were realized, but I had prepared myself for that and knew that my tasks were not going to be easy to achieve. I did come away from sabbatical renewed, with a stronger sense of self, knowing who I am and how I wanted, quoting George Fox, to “let my life speak.”

Finally, My Freedom Ride

By Gary Nicolai as told to Forum Editor Marilyn Lager

Gary has been teaching history to Upper Schoolers for twenty-seven years. He was granted a sabbatical in 2010.

Forum: So Gary, you have taught at FCS for twenty-seven years and never applied for a sabbatical. What prompted you to do so last year?

Gary: I was waiting for something really meaningful and exciting to strike me, and it did, as I was reading a book, Freedom Riders, by Raymond Arsenault,* a meticulously researched treatise on the period of civil rights struggle in the 1950â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and 1960â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s. I had known a lot about the 1961 Freedom Ride, in particular, but this got me thinking, stimulated me into action. Civil rights have always been a passion of mine, and I was eager to meet the author and explore what he knew. When

Civil rights have always been a passion of mine. . . I contacted him, he invited me down to St. Petersburg Florida, where he is John Hope Franklin Professor in Southern History at the University of Southern Florida.

Forum: Tell us why this period in history stirred you so.

Gary: In 1961, I was a freshman in high school, fifteen years old, in Arlington, VA, and I volunteered to participate with the Congress on Racial Equality (CORE). They were leading a struggle to integrate schools in northern Virginia, and I began working with them, handing out flyers, helping in the office, going through voter lists and setting up carpools to take black kids to integrate white schools.

Forum: Tell us more about CORE.

* Freedom Riders, 1961 and the Struggle for Racial Justice. Raymond Arsenault. Oxford University Press, 2006.

Gary: CORE was a group that believed in confronting the oppressor non-violently. They had started the concept of the Freedom Ride, which would test the Supreme Court’s ruling on the integration of interstate buses and terminals, which were supposed to be available for all. CORE was going to test this ruling by actually having people travel on buses in the south and test the compliance of the facilities

I watched in envious disappointment as they prepared for the May 1961 Freedom Ride. to the rulings. I watched in envious disappointment as they prepared for the May 1961 Freedom Ride. I say envious, because I was fifteen, too young to go, and so wished I could have participated. Forum: What happened on this ride?

Gary: Two buses, a Greyhound and a Trailways, with thirteen carefully chosen riders, set out from Washington, D.C. These men and a few women, black and white, people who were trained to expect violence, people with experience who knew how to act, boarded the buses to travel down through the Deep South. James Farmer, the CORE leader, went too. They hoped to reach New Orleans on May 17, the seventh anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. When they got to Atlanta, Martin Luther King, Jr., was waiting for them, but he was ambivalent about the tactics and had problems with the confrontational aspect of the ride and didn’t join them.

The Klan was waiting for them in Alabama, and the police looked the other way. The Klan was waiting for them in Alabama, and the police looked the other way. It was a beautiful, sunny day, May 17, Mother’s Day. When they got to Anniston, Alabama, things were eerily quiet. Suddenly the bus was surrounded by a crowd of angry people, carrying pipes and bats. Their attack partially destroyed one of the buses. Terror ensued as the group was surrounded by the mob. A Molotov cocktail was thrown into the bus, and people were coughing and choking. A memorable act of kindness occurred when a twelve-yearold girl, nicknamed the Angel of Anniston, brought them cool water. The second bus made it to Birmingham, but the riders were badly attacked too. Their goal was to go on to New Orleans, but they decided not to. The rides stopped. The point was made, but the riders were not satisfied. They had not reached their goal. But students from 11

Nashville couldn’t let the ride end so unsatisfactorily, so they organized individuals to come to Birmingham to continue the ride, and it did reach New Orleans. There were to be many other “rides” throughout 1961 challenging segregation at bus stations in the South.

Forum: What, then, was your relationship to these long-ago happenings?

Gary: My journey, in 2010, was to be an attempt to duplicate that ride from Washington, DC, to Birmingham, stopping along the way to pay tribute to those who were so courageous and to pass on what had happened to a new generation. I had contacted Ray Arsenault and found him to be a mentor, a true southern historian; he was extremely generous to me. He invited me down to the University of Southern Florida, where he teaches, and I was to stay in his home. He was to introduce me to some of the actual freedom riders, whom he was in touch with, and I travelled to interview them, but this was to happen after my own self-planned ride. Forum: So you actually planned a bus trip by yourself?

Gary: I started my ride in April, on a rainy morning, leaving from Washington DC, spending two weeks on Greyhound buses, stopping in motels, taking pictures of the places, stations, stops that had been involved in 1961. It was very difficult to take a bus to all the small towns that were involved… . I did go through all the states, VA, NC, SC, GA, and AL, and that was as far as I got, just like the original Freedom Ride. I visited churches that gave the riders refuge; I went to a museum in Greensboro, NC, an attractive, interactive research center established to commemorate the first sit-in at a lunch counter that began in 1960. In Rock Hill, SC, one of the bus stops was still intact, and there is a beautiful memorial park that honors civil rights workers. Rock Hill was, in the 1960’s, the kind of place that if you were jailed, you would not want to be let out, because there was such strong feeling about the movement that attack and death were possibilities. I saw the jail where the Freedom Riders had been incarcerated. I ended up in Anniston, Alabama, where the original ride also terminated.

I was so moved about taking this ride now in 2010, and seeing that the seats were filled with multicultural America. . . I was so moved about taking this ride now in 2010, and seeing that the seats were filled with multicultural America: Orthodox Jews, Indian students, a group of young African American children, all

oblivious to the history around them. Talking to people along the route, I saw that almost all the bus riders knew nothing about the history of the Civil Rights movement or about the area.

Forum: And then you returned to Philadelphia?

Gary: After my own, self-planned bus ride, I contacted Arsenault, and it was time to meet him. I flew down to Florida, and I was welcomed into his home and into his classes. We even went to a Tampa Rays game (he is a big fan). I became a guest lecturer in his classes, lecturing on Pennsylvania colonial history. I was delighted to know that every year he takes his students who are involved in his class on civil rights at the University of South Florida plus Stetson Law School students on a bus with folk who were involved in the 1960â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s historical happenings, including the Freedom Rides. He invited me to come along. His trip started in Nashville, then we went by charter bus to Jackson, and Oxford, MS. Birmingham, Selma, Montgomery, ending in Anniston. The folk on the bus would be the docents, talking about their early experiences. From each stop, civil rights folk came to talk to us. In Nashville, we even were part of a mock sit-in at a Subway restaurant, experiencing what it was like to be confronted and attacked for the color of your skin. I had my hair pulled, and I was spit on. Others were punched and knocked off the seats.

I had my hair pulled, and I was spit on. Forum: Did you connect with any individuals more intensely?

Gary: Two participants who particularly touched me were Catherine Burkes-Brooks and her husband Paul Brooks. When we got to Birmingham, we went to the National Civil Rights Museum and heard her words about the original Freedom Ride. A beautiful woman even today at 72, she had been involved in the sit-in movement as a college senior. She remembered how a white man, in a confrontational moment in Nashville, put a cigarette up to her eye, ready to burn her. She recalled how she kept in her head (which she still does to this day), a song, â&#x20AC;&#x153;I Will Not be Moved, I Will Not be Turned Around,â&#x20AC;? and in those moments of danger, it helped her get through. She came on this 2010 Freedom Ride to finish the ride that had been sadly aborted in Birmingham. She recalled how, along with Congressman John Lewis from Georgia, she was arrested by Bull Connor, the police officer from Birmingham most associated with violence and bigotry, and put in jail. At midnight, they were placed in a car, driven through the dark, and dumped out at the Alabama/Tennessee state line, terrified they would be killed. She told a menacing Bull Connor that she 13

would be back in Birmingham by “high noon.” They did get back to Birmingham by 3pm, picked up by another civil rights person and transported there. “I would never change anything I did; I am proud of my actions,” she said, challenging me. “Would you have gotten on the bus at that time?”

All my life, I had regretted that I hadn’t been able to ride on one of those buses. I answered unhesitatingly, “Yes, I would have, in a heartbeat.” All my life, I had regretted that I hadn’t been able to ride on one of those buses. On my sabbatical, a dream came true. The fiftieth anniversary of the Freedom Rides will take place in 2011. I will teach my FCS students about these experiences and show them a PBS video, coming out on May 17, 2011, the anniversary of that historic day. I was able to go back and finish a long-ago dream.

Gary, back in FCS library.

A Cultural Exchange...and More By Rochelle Ostroff-Weinberg and students of French at FCS

Rochelle has been teaching French at FCS for nineteen years, nine of them in the Middle School. The Exhange Program with CSI in Lyon described below has been operating for ten years.

How can we, here at Friends’ Central, develop individuals who will be open toward and welcoming of differences? How can we promote understanding and acceptance of diverse lifestyles? The Exchange Program between Friends’ Central School and la Cité Scolaire Internationale (FCS/CSI) in Lyon, France, in its tenth year, is a vehicle that teaches this lesson, transporting students to new worlds—cultural, linguistic and academic—allowing them to experience every aspect of the journey through their own eyes. Along the way, they formulate impressions, their comparisons and assessments founded on the comfortable familiarity of their daily American existence. The Exchange encourages them to discover something new and different, and it imbues them with the spark that ignites a deeper

The Exchange encourages them to discover something new and different, and it imbues them with the spark that ignites a deeper appreciation of their own world, as it generates excitement to further explore other worlds. appreciation of their own world, as it generates excitement to further explore other worlds. Those who participate in the Exchange to Lyon find themselves at a turning point. Suddenly they are viewing their own lives in a fresh way. Moreover they often, unbeknownst to them, see themselves differently. In 2010, for the first time, I requested that the students of the Exchange to Lyon keep a journal of their discoveries and observations. I wanted them to be more intentional about remarking and understanding what they were experiencing. It goes without saying 15

Rochelle (fourth from right) with FCS French students in Lyon.

that every Exchange student makes mental notes: social mores, life on the street, living spaces, public transportation, eating styles, family life, school life, cultural events and more. The journal writing concretizes the mental ruminations. After having read their journal entries, I was both thrilled and astonished by their gleanings. Their commentaries are germane not only to their French studies, but also to their FCS education. This selection of pieces will help you understand the multi-leveled voyage of the FCS/CSI Exchange. (Some students only participated in the two week U.S. leg of the Exchange that took place in mid-February; they focused their reflections on the home-stay experience.) French Teenagers and their Relationships with Parents, Friends, Freedom and Responsibility By Alex Forrest â&#x20AC;&#x2122;11

During my two-week stay in Lyon, I had the chance to experience the French culture through a teenagerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s perspective. I expected my fellow adolescents to be much the same as their American counterparts. While I found this to be mostly true, I was struck by several key cultural differences that separate French from American teenagers. I was most affected by how close our exchange students are with their families. Families sit down to eat for one or two hours every night, the food being just as important as the easy-flowing conversation. This mealtime is sacred and contributes largely to the closeness of the families I observed and heard about. Furthermore, I was impressed by how especially academically dedicated all of the students were at CSI. Emma, my host student, would spend more hours studying for a biology quiz or working on a math problem set than FCS students normally would. Lastly, the French students I met were loyal to, appreciative of, and affectionate with all of their friends. At their school, social interaction was a key part of the daily

experience; outside the main doors in the morning was a sea of teenagers greeting each other with pecks on the cheek, and talking about how their night was. All in all, a few cultural contrasts! Lyon, the City By Kossi Anyinefa ’11

In comparison to Paris, where we had stayed for three days, the city of Lyon was much smaller. In contrast to the hustle and bustle of the French capital, Lyon had a more laid-back feel; the smaller city had only four subway lines and two skyscrapers! However, it was not completely dissimilar from its larger counterpart: for example, parallels could be drawn between some of the architecture (particularly the cathedrals). Although Paris seemed to have more of everything, Lyon overshadowed its larger sister in one aspect, and that was cuisine. The city is famous for being the culinary capital of France, and we had many opportunities to sample the local fare; one night the French exchange students took us out to eat at a local restaurant where the food was delicious. (However, I personally wasn’t brave enough to try the blood sausage!) Lyon is also home to the largest urban park in France, le Parc de la Tête d’Or (the Park of the Golden Head), which even boasts its own miniature zoo. Although Lyon might be smaller than Paris, it definitely has a lot to offer, and anyone who is visiting the Rhône-Alpes region of France should check it out. What was Different and What was the Same By Alex Kleiman ’11

There are many fantastic qualities of the school I attended in France, the CSI (which, by the way, was free of The Who songs, police technology, and quirky law enforcement officers), but there is one thing that I did not like. The courses and teachers did not encourage any class participation whatsoever. For example, in one French Literature class, the professor lectured for two hours on the themes found in a classical passage without pausing to question her understandably quiet students. In a pre-calculus class, the students silently completed simple trigonometry exercises for an hour. My FCS math teacher, Mr. Morris, who was with us in Lyon, later told me that he initially believed that the assigned problems were meant simply as warm up problems and that he expected the class to spend only a few minutes on them. I do not mean to suggest that the French students are less capable of performing in math classes than Friends’ Central students are, but they were not asked to utilize their skills in logic and reasoning. One aspect of the CSI that I loved was the liberty the students had to leave the campus. The CSI is located in a public park, and students are able to leave school whenever they want. They love to walk in the park, play 17

soccer, or simply talk with their friends while enjoying the weather. This liberty seemed even more appealing, I am sure, because until reaching senior year, Friends’ Central students have no such privilege. I also loved the physical building that is the CSI, and I especially enjoyed the vast hallway located inside the school. The hallway runs the length of the school and is about 30 feet wide. The building is five stories high and designed in a way that lets outside air flow through the hallway, creating a feeling that one is outside, or at least in a roofless building. This made walks from class just as enjoyable as the ones I take through the oval at Friends’ Central on a warm spring day. However, this architectural wonder also had quite a disadvantage: it was always cold inside the building. Additionally, along with most of the French students, I didn’t care for the color scheme of the school. The school is made mainly of cement, and the ever present gray of the walls, floor, and ceiling adds a gloom to the school that is only counteracted by the open hallway and unexpectedly friendly faces of every French student around. Everything Is Art: BEN By Ariel Parker ’11

The contemporary European artist BEN is fairly unknown in our American circles. If you do recognize this artist, his style is responsible, among his many works, for the black notebooks with simple French phrases on them. While staying in Lyon, the French Exchange took a field trip to see this artist’s exhibit, “Everything Is Art: Ben” at the Musée d’art Contemporain de Lyon. The exposition covered three floors, and our tour guide began the exhibit by showing us a piece by Ben, on which he simply wrote, “Tout est l’art.” Everything is art. Ben did not disappoint in this slogan. Sculptures. Vials of questionable substances. Paintings of ultimatums without pictures. Particularly present at the exhibit was the artist’s massive ego, which was seen through self-portraits and the gratuitous use of the artist’s name and “I.” Despite Ben’s ego (one of the main attractions of the exposition), the artist did not fail to spread messages. One painting simply declared in two words: “Regardez ailleurs,” or “Look elsewhere/around.” Profound statements like this struck me, the viewer, with force. However, one of the most striking pieces of the show was the largest by far: a house-like structure, inside of which was a jumbled mix of common household objects and garbage; every item was a symbol for something Ben as artist saw plaguing humanity. Ben’s mix of the serious and the light-hearted mirrors his view of the human existence. Ego. Sheer talent. Global and inner reflection. This retrospective of Ben said all these things, while I, the viewer, was left with selfreflection. 18

The Homestay: The Positive Aspects of Hosting Paul Cotler ’11

Hosting the French exchange students was one experience which I will probably never forget, for our particular circumstance was much different than any other before. I was slated to host only one student, but through a violent snowstorm and dangerous roads during February of 2010, two French students and another host, FCS’ Jessie Rohrer were marooned at my house. We were all awe-stricken at the magnitude of the storm, which the French students had never seen in Lyon. We sat in my bedroom, drinking hot chocolate and exchanging stories the best way we could. Instead of taking our guests to different historical landmarks in the area or showing them the landscape, we built snowmen and had an epic snowball fight with my neighbors. I think that this bonding between two different types of students from different backgrounds was much more profitable for us and them than any trip to the Constitution Center (no offense, Liberty Bell!). Sisters in the Snow By Paulina Coutifaris ’11

The French exchange was a great experience that allowed me to grow and mature as an individual. Although it was a challenge entertaining my student during the various snow days here in Pennsylvania, it gave us a chance to get to know one another and learn about each other’s interests and backgrounds. Alice was interested in sports and journalism, and although those were not my main interests (which are more social), we connected through Cranium, a board game and the film, “Mama Mia.” This exchange program gave me the confidence to speak in French as well as broaden my vocabulary and strengthen my accent. By the end of the two weeks, Alice and I were not only friends but also sisters, and all together, we had created a family, one that we will never forget. A Painter who Makes Bold Assertions By Bill Fedullo ’12

During our stay in Lyon, we, along with the French exchange students, had the opportunity to visit a gallery showcasing the works of Ben Vautier, a painter whose style challenges basic conceptions of what art is. He is best known for his text-based paintings, which are postcards, written in a beautiful yet not overly ornate cursive, that make bold assertions about humanity and its place in the world. One of his favorite messages is Tout est art (everything is art). Ben, in the tradition of French artists like Duchamp, shocks his audience with images that range from the obscene to the puerile, and challenges them to deny their beauty.

Culture Shock By Jessie Rohrer ’11

Kenza, who is known by many as “Baby Sugar,” was my French exchange student last year in Lyon. Kenza’s mom was very hospitable; every morning she made my bed and organized any clothes I accidentally left lying around the floor. She also refilled the basket of candy in my room, which I inevitably emptied each night. A couple of days into my stay, I was surprised to see my “linens” hanging above the breakfast table as I ate breakfast. A little embarrassed, I realized that that was my first real culture shock. Most people in France don’t use a dryer because they are difficult to fit into apartments, and they run up the energy bill. I also learned that most people live in apartments, because houses (which had incredibly beautiful and old architecture) were large and difficult to come by. A Warm Lyonnais Family Gabrielle Weiss ’11

The most extraordinary part of the exchange was being immersed into a culture so different than my own. I had no choice but to adapt to the way of life of my Lyonnais family. Whether it was taking my shoes off when I walked in the door or playing family board games nearly every night, life in Lyon was completely different than my life in America. At home in Lyon, quality time was one of the most important parts of the day. Every family member (there were seven!) was listened to and appreciated, and everyone wanted to be together. They played games together at night, while my family might go off in separate rooms for their activities. Everyone took care of one another, and eventually I was included in that incredible sense of family. My Lyonnais family made drastic changes so that I would be comfortable staying there, having one of the children move in with another to give me my own room, but truthfully just sitting with them for an hour made me feel welcomed. Living in close quarters, it would seem that everyone would constantly quarrel, but everyone seemed to get along regardless of whether I was there or not. What impressed me the most was how, although completely different than my American family, the love that was shown by and to each family member was the same as it is in my home here. Although shown somewhat differently, feeling the appreciation of family was the most incredible thing to observe.

Ferdinand on Retreat By Megan Schumacher

Megan teaches Upper School English and has been at FCS for eight years.

In 2001, while living in Chicago, a friend of mine invited me to join a writing group he was starting. While the group’s life span was short—I think we may have met a total of three times—the impact it had on my life was lasting. Over the course of these last nine years or so, I have thought of that writing group often. Even having only met three times, I missed it. I missed the shared experience of writing, the support of the other members of the group, and the pressure of a deadline. I missed, too, the opportunity to finish a story I had started about my sister. Actually, more specifically, what I missed was getting down on paper the many other sister stories that were floating around in my head. For nine years, I thought about that single story I wrote about my sister, which I aptly titled “The Christmas Memory,” because, I believe, our writing prompt was to write about a Christmas memory. (My students would be horrified by my title, given my constant reminder to create a captivating title for their essays.) The story itself was rough, but the memory was powerful. It is a memory I come back to again and again: my sister’s arrival from the Philippines. I was 9, waiting expectantly at Newark Airport with a Whoopsie! Doll, and she was 6, tired after a long flight that involved delivering two other children to their expecting families in the U.S., and deaf, having no hearing in one ear and only partial hearing in another. Her arrival not

Her arrival not only changed my life in dramatic ways, but also left me with more memories and stories waiting to be written. only changed my life in dramatic ways, but also left me with more memories and stories waiting to be written. Finding the time to write, however, has always been a challenge. I have found that the life of an English teacher does not always allow 21

for time to pursue other interests, but a few summers ago, I had the pleasure to attend a “Writing & Thinking” weeklong workshop for teachers at Bard College, and while I was there, I took notice of another opportunity Bard College afforded teachers, a Writing Retreat. With the retreat in mind, I started to think more seriously about my “sister stories,” as I referred to them. I saw myself writing a series of individual stories about my sister and me, with hopes of publishing a collection of them. With this in mind, I decided to attend the retreat during the summer of 2010. Having never Megan. attended a writing retreat before, I had no idea what to expect. I was excited and nervous, worried that I would not be able to produce anything in writing let alone a story about my sister and me; however, that was not the case. Instead, I completed rough drafts of what I initially saw as two individual stories, until, with the help of my fellow writers, I came to understand that these two individual stories were actually a part of a longer essay. That longer essay was not completed in the five days the retreat allotted me, nor have I had the time to move beyond the rough drafts of what I wrote that week, but I have at least started on what I now see as a longer project. I may need another retreat, or several, to finish it, but in the meantime, I will look forward to the little moments I find here and there to work on it. Below is a portion of one of the pieces I wrote during the retreat. Of the two pieces, it is perhaps the less emotional of the two. Indeed, while I certainly found myself smiling at times while writing the two

...I also found myself crying as memories came swirling back and out onto paper. stories over the course of the week, I also found myself crying as memories came swirling back and out onto paper. This particular piece I am sharing provided me with more laughter than tears. The portion I am sharing is still quite rough. I do not know what will become of it as it is revised and melded into the other parts of this essay waiting to be written. It is exciting to wonder. Aside from it being rough, the only other detail that might be of interest and helpful to a reader is knowing that I, like my sister, am adopted. 22

RAGING BULL

My sister and I are nothing alike. This may or may not be important, but this dissemblance is at least striking. I came when I was two, my sister, six. I’m American born and bred; my sister is Filipino born and orphanage-reared until six when she finds herself on a plane to the United States. I have sound hearing. I’ve never had trouble passing a hearing test. When I was a child I imagined myself not unlike Superman with super hearing. I could hear the conversations my parents were having from three floors below me. I knew what I was getting for Christmas, long before it was purchased. My sister may have had hearing at some point, but who knows for sure. The only certainty concerning her hearing is that it is pretty poor. When we knew we were going to adopt her, my mom arranged to have a hearing aid sent to her at the orphanage. We have pictures of her modeling her new hearing aid in the Philippines. She’s cute in her little dress, which from all appearances looked pink; though, the photos were black and white. The hearing aid is prominently displayed, given its size. The box hangs around her neck by a thick plastic cord, and wires lead from the box to her ears. She is smiling. When she arrives a year later, we learn this same hearing aid has never had batteries. It’s been useless to her, just weight upon her neck.

My sister has a huge tattoo of a tiger on her back. My sister has a huge tattoo of a tiger on her back. I have no tattoos. Whenever I consider getting a tattoo I’m reminded of pain and permanence, two things I don’t much care for. I think my sister likes them both. She had her belly button pierced and her tongue at one point, and she’s been working at the same place for an eternity in the same department of a university, doing catering. I guess it’s a given I have no body piercings, and I’ve had so

I guess it’s a given I have no body piercings... many jobs over the course of twenty years that I sometimes forget some of them. My sister has lived in the same city for the same amount of years as my forgetfulness. I’ve lived in Philadelphia and Chicago, and Philadelphia and Chicago, and Philadelphia again. I’ve wanted to live in Seattle and Vancouver and San Francisco and Costa Rica and London and Barcelona. I don’t know that my sister has wanted to live anywhere else than where she’s been living. I wonder. When I was a child I would come home from school, and if I hadn’t completed my homework during the school day, I would finish relatively quickly at home, before heading to my room to listen to my music and daydream. When my sister came home from school, my mother would spend hours 23

working with her, and then my sister would go and watch TV. Sometimes I wondered if my sister daydreamed, but if she did, she never shared. She’s not much of a sharer. I don’t really know her all that well, not really, not the way I dream other sisters know each other. My sister and I are different heights. I’m not even sure she breaks the five-foot mark. I’m a good 5' 6", (with slightly bigger feet). There was nothing to be shared. My sister has long, thick beautiful straight black hair. Mine’s thick, too, but curly and when long, out of control. My sister is a darker shade of brown than me. Only in the summer can I compete. This has always been a fascination to me especially because of race and race matters. What is black after all, when I look at my sister? She can pass for black a lot better than I can, and she’s not even black.

We’re walking contradictions, the two of us. We’re walking contradictions, the two of us. Even as fellow Taureans, we fail to align. She’s the raging bull to my Ferdinand.

Behind the Classroom: Ninth Grade Teachers Discuss the Book of Job Introduction by Al Vernacchio

Al, who has been teaching English for thirteen years at FCS Upper School, is currently head of the English department.

Ninth graders begin their study of literature in the Upper School by examining Yann Martelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s novel Life of Pi. This engaging tale of a young manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journey of survival on a lifeboat (which may or may not include a fully grown Bengal tiger) introduces students to how literature can creatively explore powerful questions of existence. What is the purpose of life and of suffering? What gives an individual the power to overcome overwhelming odds? In the face of certain death, what allows one to cling to life? Several years ago, as a follow up to Life of Pi, Cristina Perez brought excerpts from the biblical Book of Job to her class and found it a compelling addition to the curriculum. This year, the entire ninth grade English team decided to teach these excerpts after finishing Life of Pi. Whenever a new text is brought into the curriculum, especially one many have not taught before, teachers spend much time discussing the work among ourselves. We figure it out together, bringing our own questions, interpretations, and experiences to bear while

...an email thread developed out of our wrestling with the excerpts from Job... making meaning out of the text. As an email thread developed out of our wrestling with the excerpts from Job, and as those conversations spilled over into the Dining Hall and into conversations with other faculty outside of the English department, the ninth grade team was asked whether we might want to publish the thread in the FCS Forum. The idea was that others might enjoy seeing what goes on behind the classroom as we prepare to teach a text.

Ninth grade English teachers (l to r): Jim Rosengarten, Scott Sheppard, Megan Schumacher, Cristina Perez, Al Vernacchio and Terry Guerin.

It is important to note that the following thread was generated without any thought of sharing it widely. It began for our eyes only-a way for us to talk out this challenging text so we could teach it to our ninth graders. Our language is informal, our tone relaxed (at times a bit irreverent), and the whole exercise may seem unscholarly to some. Yet it reveals our honest encounters with the text, our senses of humor, and our commitment to figuring it out together. Ultimately, we decided to share these thoughts more widely in an attempt to draw back the curtain and reveal how teachers learn from each other, how a collaborative approach to a text is satisfying and fruitful, and also, just how much we enjoy each other and have fun working together. We are presenting the thread in its original state with only the most minimal editing for clarity…and spelling. It turns out we’re really not that good at spelling. On Mon, Sep 27, 2010 at 1:52 PM, Cristina Perez <cperez@friendscentral.org> wrote:

i wanted to have a chance to check in with you guys about the beginning and the end of job— it’s my understanding that the very end of job was not written by the original author. that’s one of the reasons i leave it out—i didn’t include it in my packet. (plus, i think whoever wrote the end didn’t get 26

the whole point of what the original author wrote, so. . . i hope a bolt of lightning doesn’t shoot down from the sky to smite me for being dismissive about part of the Bible, but i’ve done worse things, and i’m still walking around, so...) in any case, the beginning of job, when god and the accusing angel are chatting, seems to me to be written like a fairy tale—it’s kind of shallow and repetitive and the characters are pretty caricature-ish. then the middle happens, the meat of the text —and that’s where things get deep. job struggles and his friends are (terrified) jerks who don’t listen, and job has great fantasies about getting his day in court where he asks god to explain why in the world he’s running things so terribly down here, and then god finally comes out of the whirlwind and blows job’s mind, and then job “surrenders” and feels comforted by the divine Truth that he has heard. and then, the end gets tagged on (i believe) and suddenly god, who’s now a caricature again (and not nearly as cool as the voice from the whirlwind), is happy with job and rewards him with a whole new family and a brand-new fortune and job lives happily ever after. now-- i think it’s very cool to contemplate that some group of rabbis a few thousand years ago felt the need to tag on a happier ending. (i imagine this collective scramble to turn the text back into a lesson about how, EVENTUALLY at least, good things do happen to good people) but i haven’t done it because it’s not as meaningful to me as the “meaty” middle part of job and because i feel pressed for time. anyway, that’s my take on it, though i’m very open to other interpretations/perspectives. (i LOVE talking about job :) On Mon, Sep 27, 2010 at 2:49 PM, Scott Sheppard <ssheppard@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I’ve been thinking about this ending and wanted to add some thoughts as well, considering we all had to rush out of our meeting without having much closure in our discussion. My thought is that regardless of whether you teach the ending or not, it is useful to consider the question, “How does the story change if Job is not given a physical reward in the end?” Another way of interpreting Job’s doubled fortune and replacement progeny is as “fairy tale” signifiers of Job’s “restored righteousness.” Since the prologue and epilogue are presented in this flat, folksy tone, I think they demand a different kind of close reading than the middle demands. I agree with the author of Cristina’s introduction that these parts really just help set the stage for the middle and then finally close the curtain when the story’s over. If we take the ending literally then we might be inclined to reduce Job’s restoration to a literal prize which would ignore the mysterious and complex nature of God, which He unveils for Job at the end of their discourse—and this is what allows Job to surrender, give-in, recant, 27

and be redeemed (Not to mention the fairy tale ending doesn’t say anything about his sores getting better. Does this mean he is still smelly and disgusting but has a nicer house and prettier daughters?) I hope to get the students to see the 1000 heads of steer and what-not as signifiers of righteousness and not merely physical reparations from a God that has gone back to operating under the precepts of a human conception of justice. Not to mention, there are plenty of Joblike characters who never get the steer back; the only redemption they get is a spiritual one. It might at least open up a good discussion about Pi’s ending. Martel tells us, “This story has a happy ending.” The issue of authorship is a difficult one. I’ll probably mention it, but from what I’ve read no one really knows much about the authorship of Job, so besides taking cues from stylistic shifts and narrative inconsistencies I think it gets tricky if you try to value parts of the text over others on any historical basis. In my opinion the whole thing has been “messed with” by rabbis over years, and the ideal notion of a pure original text is a fallacy anyway. This is fun. Thanks for getting Job into the mix, Cristina. On Mon, Sep 27, 2010 at 10:56 PM, James Rosengarten <jrosengarten@friendscentral.org> wrote:

Beautiful dialogue going here, Cristina and Scott. Thank you both. One of my sources (albeit it’s from the late 1980’s) doesn’t let go of the epilogue, doesn’t even mention it as a question though it does say Elihu’s words that precede God’s probably aren’t in Job originally, as well as a couple of other spots. It uses, as Scott points out, changes in style and not much else. That is, though, how much analysis of biblical texts has to be done as that’s often all we’ve got—and even that is a bit shaky as we’re looking at translations of the original in most biblical texts. I don’t think Job’s character or experience is all that different by having him get his riches back and then some. I think he sincerely “gives in,” not “up” to a greater power, that he understands this in a way that his friends and, frankly, myself, do not. That’s why God yells at his friends saying that they got it all wrong, too. So apparently God doesn’t dole out stuff b/c we’re good and make our lives bad when we’re bad. But what does God do? Well, that’s the point: we don’t know, we can’t know, we are incapable of understanding. I don’t like that message (thus my inability to think I have the kind of understanding/faith that Job has), but I think the epilogue punctuates that. But what will our students actually get? I’m enjoying this; I hope they get something from it, too. And so, anyway, can I see your translation, Cristina? especially the epilogue? I can use mine, but I’d like the consistency if I could. 28

On Tue, Sep 28, 2010 at 10:11 AM. Terry Guerin <tguerin@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I love this discourse, guys! a few things. . . after a discussion with my husband, the “rationalist,” he commented on the “Sh#t Happens” theme, are we allowing our non-believers or, I like to call them, “possibilitists” to take note of the evolutionary process of learning from our mistakes and moving on in the face of adversity, why? because it’s what we do as a species in order to survive and thrive. . . we come at this from so many different avenues. I think that is so cool. . . once again, thanx Cristina. . . On Tue, Sept 28, 2010 at 12:25 PM. Cristina Perez <cperez@friendscentral.org> wrote:

i just had my english class, and we talked about job’s fantasy of putting god on trial. . . we teachers started comparing job’s character to pi a bit if i recall, and i think it was jim who said that job seemed meeker, more afraid of god than pi? i don’t agree! i love job because he gets so MAD, he has these fantastic fantasies of having an “avenger” in a dramatic courtroom drama where he gets to prove to this (even higher) judge (!) that god is way out of line and quite incompetent. can’t we all relate to that level of righteous indignation? he goes so far as to refer to himself in his fantasy as “a prince,” standing before god, justifying “the least of his actions.” incidentally, the voice in the whirlwind appears right after job refers to himself as a prince as if maybe god has had enough of job’s ego and decides to enlighten him.

On Tue, Sept 28, 2010 at 1:08 PM. Scott Sheppard <ssheppard@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I think Job’s anger definitely stands out in comparison to Pi’s tempered doubt. One of the issues I have with LOP is that sometimes Pi seems like a sixty-year-old, sage Buddhist man, whereas Job, in some ways, has more pathos: he pities himself, he experiences outrage, he demands justice, he whines, he curses, he believes, then doubts. Pi’s desperation is evident, but relative to Job his outrage rarely is. I guess you could interpret this in a couple of ways. Either we don’t get as much of his emotional grittiness because this is a re-telling through the eyes of an older, reflecting Pi (or a narrator impersonating a knowing Pi) or it could be that Richard Parker is what helps Pi stay focused and in control. The tiger on the boat, besides being a “spirit animal” companion, localizes his struggle and puts his spiritual/philosophical struggle in practical/biological terms. I’m having a hard time reading my kids. Sometimes I feel like they are really getting this; they share wonderful ideas, and they 29

enjoy it. Other times, they just look at me. I wish they would take the discussion and give it some fuel themselves instead of waiting for my next question. Overall, though, I think the unit is really working. On Tue, Sept 28, 2010 at 2:39 PM. Megan Schumacher <mschumacher@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I would like to propose that the only reason Pi comes across as the 60 year old, sage Buddhist is because he’s incorporated (not the word I was looking for, but I’m going with it anyway) all of his outrage in Richard Parker. I think, too, that there is always this risk that Pi could completely succumb to the Richard Parker side of himself, and if that happened Pi’s faith would dissolve completely. He even says as much when he says, “God’s cat was a constant danger” (209).

On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 8:31 AM. James Rosengarten <jrosengarten@friendscentral.org> wrote:

Cristina loves Job because he gets so mad (our fiery Latina); I like Job because he’s so authentic but admire Pi for his quiet sage-like quality (tight-assed white guy); this, in some ways, is making me think about how I read the two works quite differently. I read Job as more about spirituality and Pi as more about psychology. I guess, as much as I like Pi’s spirituality, his relationship with God—though vibrant—isn’t as dominant as Job’s relationship with God in the Book of Job. However, our chat has made me look at both of them in the other light. I have to say that what Megan says rings true to me, too, that notion that we can’t forget that Richard Parker is a part of Pi. I think that Pi feels culpable for his actions, feels blameworthy whereas Job doesn’t feel that way and, indeed, isn’t blameworthy at all (that’s the point). Thanks for getting me back in the loop, Scott. On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 11:51 AM. Cristina Perez <cperez@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I noticed something really cool about how Job’s thinking evolves. Initially, Job is upset because God has been unfair to him. “I’ve been sooooo awesome, how could God do all of these terrible things to me???!!!” Then on pp. 52–54, Job starts to argue that the unfairness extends beyond him—not only do bad things happen to good people (like himself), but good things happen to bad people as well. “Why do the wicked prosper...?” And THEN (!!!) on p. 60, Job begins to think in terms of social justice questions: the orphans, the weak, “the poor who search all day 30

for food,” the same ones who are exploited “and break their backs for the rich” the sick, the wounded, those preyed upon by killers and rapists... anyway, I think it’s really amazing that in a way, it takes his own suffering for him to truly open his mind and see the suffering of others. Not to mention that, as a rich man, he might be wondering whether he exploited any of his workers, whether any of them broke their backs for him. On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 12:33 PM. James Rosengarten <jrosengarten@friendscentral.org> wrote:

And that’s what I want the kids to see—to track the evolution of Job’s thinking. I still like the fact that that’s not acknowledged by God, though—that God doesn’t say something like, “You needed to understand the world’s sufferings better so that’s why I let this happen to you.” That’s a common philosophical /theological explanation for non-moral evil, that it’s there to build our character. I find that a bit absurd. Though it does build our character, I don’t want to buy that a god would initiate such things for that purpose. On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 8:20 PM. Al Vernacchio <avernacchio@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I’ve been silent on the thread so far because I’ve been tying to get my head around this whole thing. I’ve felt like the “slow kid,” not understanding Job (or even Pi) as well as I think you all do. But I had a breakthrough today in my class that, I think, moved me closer to understanding Job’s evolution of response, and maybe Pi’s too. My kids were having a terrible time with the surrender/submission giving in/giving up ideas (and so was I to be honest). We just couldn’t see the difference and couldn’t label which is which. So, I changed the language, and it helped both them and me. See if this works for you all. In times of crisis (whether crises of faith or the ship going down in the ocean), it seems there are three ways to deal with it: 1) Turn Away from it (ignore, block out, opt out in some way): I think this is what Job’s wife is doing when she tells Job, “Curse God and die already!” It’s a total abdication of the situation. Of course, the problem with this is that you can’t really do it. You can’t opt out of the situation. Job can’t curse God and die—any more than Pi can just block out entirely what happened at sea. 2) Bow Down to it (what I understand as “surrender”): This is what Job does at first. He performs the traditional mourning rituals and he says, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.” This is also what his friends do when they first arrive. They completely bow down to Job’s situation, putting themselves (during 31

those first seven days when they sit in silence) under the power of Job’s incredible suffering. Bowing Down takes away any form of your own power. It's a position of fear. It’s cringing and making oneself small because if you don’t do that, something worse could happen. Today in my class we talked a lot about Job’s initial response. He MUST be angry with God somewhere in his heart. Who wouldn’t be? He must want to scream and rail against the injustice—and if, indeed, he really had a relationship of faith with God and not a relationship of fear, as I think he has, then he would question this. Real faith allows for questioning, for complaining, for disagreeing because at the core you believe that the other person isn’t really going to annihilate you. I think Job’s friends continue this posture of bowing down all the way through the book. They can’t shake the idea that God keeps score and that ultimately you just might get squashed into oblivion. That’s why they can’t let Job off the hook. Their relationship with God is solely fear-based as well. If God did this to Job, what’s he going to do to us? We can’t question this. We’ve got to bow down to the party line. 3) Face Up to It (what I understand as “submission”). This is where Job, and Pi, eventually get. This is the position of true faith. Job “faces up” to this crisis—looks at it and reclaims his power to question it and complain about it and believe (really believe) that there’s something else to this than just a power-play of God’s. That’s why, I think, he gets to see God in the whirlwind and recognize his place in the larger creation. Part of what facing up/submitting means is knowing that you’re not the center of it all, that in some ways this really isn’t about you. It means seeing yourself as a part of a much greater whole, and you’re NOT at the center of it; you’re not even close to the most important thing in it—and yet, you’re a PART of it, and you can have faith that your connection to it is eternal and unbreakable. This is that idea of the Oversoul in Emerson, or “the Force” in Star Wars, or even “that of God in everyone.” It’s being able to look at and see the primary connection to everything, and that makes whatever’s happening OK to look at—really look at. Job’s final statement (before the epilogue) is SO different to me than his initial putting his face in the dust. His affirmation that “I am dust” isn’t defeat; it’s facing what IS. It’s saying “yes” to all of creation and believing that your part in it is secure without having to be the center of it. Now, of course, I’m not the fiery Latina, or the tight-assed white guy (the “tight-assed straight white guy,” I might add). I’m the guy who’s always been on the bottom. Who spent most of his life bowing down and feeling pretty powerless, and because I could never hope to achieve the traditional standards of power (which I now see as false power anyway) had to find another way to see it if I hoped to survive. 32

The power is in the connection, not in the conquest. It’s in the integration, not the separation. Maybe I’m just fooling myself. If I am, don’t tell me just yet. OK? Whew! So, I’m going to continue to play with the idea of turning away, bowing down, and facing up as I go through the rest of Job and see what happens. On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 10:09 PM. Terry Guerin <tguerin@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I am down with Al’s last paragraph. . . interesting to think of the whirlwind being like the “grand setting” that Pi gives in to, my kids felt like “giving up” was more defiant, not questioning but butting up against adversity by refusing it. the difference between hitting the ground hard or floating into the abyss. I think when Job howls his damnation of the day he was born he is on the brink of giving up. . . . I sort of like Pi better, this is a pure gut thing, he seems more thoughtful, not the blind believer Job is at first. In order to survive, Pi sacrifices his vegetarian convictions but he doesn’t rail and keen like Job does. I also would like to think that if there is a God, he or she is not a “smiter,” and why does God HAVE to show Satan who’s boss? I have to say, I just love the idea of “keeping the faith” “Hanging in there” because life is worth it. My brother-in-law let me borrow his mantra: “Be flexible, have low expectations.” Live by this creed and you will never be disappointed. On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 10:32 PM. Megan Schumacher <mschumacher@friendscentral.org> wrote:

So, I was reading one of my student’s assignments, and she was discussing chapter 16 and the concept of Brahman. I didn’t remember this particular idea and decided to revisit the passage. I would invite all of you to do the same. As I was rereading it, I was reminded of the Book of Job immediately. There are two types of Brahman, Brahman nirguna and Brahman saguna. The Brahman nirgunas description reminds me of the God that is ultimately revealed to Job at the end. Martel writes, “There is a Brahman nirguna, without qualities, which lies beyond understanding, beyond description, beyond approach; with our poor words we sew a suit for it—One, Truth, Unity, Absolute, Ultimate Reality, Ground of Being—and try to make it fit, but Brahman nirguna always bursts the seams. We are left speechless” (48). This idea of trying to define the undefinable is such a prominent aspect of Job, and so I love the way it is echoed in this passage with the Brahman nirguna. The suit that’s sewn for the nirguna simply can’t fit, and so “we are left speechless” because there are no words to capture the nirguna just as there are no words to capture God. 33

The Brahman saguna, on the other hand, seems to reflect the various ways God is portrayed when “humanized.” God like the Brahman saguna is “loving, merciful, frightening” (48). We, of course, can get our heads around these descriptions because we understand what it is to be loving or merciful or frightening. We are these things, ourselves, and we see them reflected in the behavior of others. We can’t, however, get our heads around “One, Truth, Unity.” In fact, I think we’re really bad at these things. We’re always distorting the truth and tearing folks apart instead of bringing folks together. There is no “One” in our world. There’s an us vs them. However, just because we’re really bad at them doesn’t mean we can’t attain them. I think this is where Pi is going when he starts to discuss atman, which he defines as the “spiritual force within us” (48). He goes on to discuss how Brahman and atman are similar. It made me think about the idea that God is in all things. It also made me think about the Book of Genesis when Adam and Eve are expelled from the Garden of Eden. Through their eating from the Tree of Knowledge, they became “little gods,” and if we are “little gods,” if our atmans are not unlike Brahman, then we, too, are just as mysterious as God. We are rendered speechless because of what we are capable. Okay, it late and I should be in bed. I’m not even sure this all made sense. I hope it did though:-)

On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 10:38 PM. Cristina Perez <cperez@friendscentral.org> wrote:

I interpret Job’s spiritual growth and the evolution of his relationship to God very much like you do, Al. (The only difference is that I call your stage 2) “submission” and your stage 3) “surrender.” Thank you SOOOO much for giving me such a good excuse to crack open my beloved OED with its little magnifying glass in the drawer. Here’s why I flip your terms around— The OED defines submission as: “agreement to abide by a decision or to obey an authority.” It defines surrender as: “to give oneself up to some influence; to abandon oneself...or devote oneself entirely to...” So, in my mind, the idea of “submitting to the will of God,” carries that connotation for me of just being aware of the difference in authority, of cowering (almost) to a greater authority. Whereas, the idea of surrendering means letting go, “abandoning oneself” in order to see one’s true (and beautiful) place in the universe, very very small though it may be.) The term “surrender” is the one that I associate with Pi’s sense of relief, when he feels his great suffering in the midst of the vast dark sky above him and the vast black ocean below him, and he realizes that his "suffering was taking place in a grand setting.” That spiritual moment for Pi is exactly like Job’s when he says 34

he is “comforted, knowing that he is dust.” Not dust as in worthless, but dust as in a tiny speck in a beautiful and perfect creation. What’s so exciting and inspiring to me about The Book of Job is actually the voice from the whirlwind. It talks about all of creation, and not only about the parts that we, as human beings, enjoy. The voice talks about the magnificence of the stars and of the oceans and of the bull, etc, but it also talks about the horse galloping into battle, and about animals eating each other and about blood and gore and death and the voice just drives on and on with image after image of how amazing creation is, and how far beyond our human notions of good or bad or fair or unfair it all is. The images are stunning and relentless, and I think it’s fascinating that even though Job has been hearing a voice, he says, “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.” In other words, God has revealed himself to Job through these amazing and powerful images of creation, in which we are just one beautiful little ingredient. And realizing that, our true place in the universe, is a letting-go that is comforting, soothing. You say it much better than I do, Al, when you describe it as, “knowing that you’re not the center of it all, that in some ways this really isn’t about you. It means seeing yourself as a part of a much greater whole, and you’re NOT at the center of it; you’re not even close to the most important thing in it—and yet, you’re a PART of it, and you can have faith that that connection is eternal and unbreakable.” On Wed, Sept 29, 2010 at 11:15 PM. James Rosengarten <jrosengarten@friendscentral.org> wrote:

Megan’s comment made me realize that I should double-check what I think I mentioned at our team meeting Monday about the 9th graders study of Hinduism in World History. I am pretty sure they read the passage from the Bhagavad Gita in which Arjuna asks Krishna to show himself and Krishna eventually says, okay, but you’re not gonna like it. Arjuna quickly shuts his eyes and says, ok, ok, ok. You were right. I can’t take it. And Krishna goes back to his human form. We could tap into that at some point with the 9th graders as well.

On Thu, Sept 30, 2010 at 9:54 AM. Al Vernacchio <avernacchio@friendscentral.org> wrote:

Cristina— Thanks for the word adjustment and for the OED lesson :-) Now I see why I was having trouble with the terms—I was mixing them up. So, in my lexicon now: bowing down = submission facing up = surrender

That makes much more sense to me.

On Thu, Sept 30, 2010 at 10:07 AM. Terry Guerin <tguerin@friendscentral.org> wrote

Actors are asked to “surrender” to the moment instead of forcing it. . . same thing

On Thu, Sept 30, 2010 at 11:34 AM. Terry Guerin <tguerin@friendscentral.org> wrote

ok, I am going to speak as a “possibilitist” k? Proclaiming innocence? why bother? Suffering: it is what it is, life happens. . . get over your own damn self and move on. So God does not claim responsibility. . . sort of. . . BUT he let Job SEE him, heavy stuff. . . like achieving that high wisdom buddhist thing: As Shakyamuni said, “The storehouse consciousness [alaya] is very profound and subtle; All its seeds are like a torrential flow I do not explain it to the ignorant, For fear they will cling to it and consider it a self.” There ya go!? yeah, it is not a self. . . beyond what is merely human: truly divine (depending on how you “see” it). . . this tale has a lot to say to rationalists, too!!! Hey, Job you can play in my house! Job achieves contentment because he sees the mystery of God and then stuff no longer matters as much. I still have issues with the wemust-suffer-to-reach-enlightenment thing. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, YES, but let’s not let it make us think we are then POWERFUL like some self-righteous people think (second hand religion vs. first hand religion, see G. Gordon Liddy with his hand to the flame) which brings me back to the “Sh#t Happens” approach, once one accepts it, well, then you can “eat my dust” as I lay myself down in it, that’s kind of divine, isn’t it?