This time next week I will be back in the classroom after a semester away. The truth is, I’ve always loved education and working with young people a lot more than I’ve loved school. That’s why I spend so much time doing my work “off campus.” I won’t be headed back to a full load—I’ll just be teaching one class: “Education Now.” I’ve taught this class a few times before, and each time it’s a little different. As I pulled together the syllabus, I’m considering what to prioritize—what to information emphasize, which questions to pose, and which conversations to instigate.
One thing that is always on the menu is a discussion about affirmative action, starting with what it is, and what it is not. It never ceases to blow my mind—and frustrate the hell out of me—how deeply misunderstood and misrepresented this concept has always been. One thing I always try to help my students appreciate is that affirmative action is not any specific policy—it’s more like a guiding recommendation. So when someone gives a passionate speech about why they are for or against affirmative action, I ask them to clarify what it is that they’re talking about, and then we take it from there. I won’t be using this post to try to break this all down—if you want to know more, I highly recommend the book, All Deliberate Speed: Reflections on the first Half Century of Brown v Board of Education, by Charles J. Ogletree, Jr. This post is not really about education policy or segregation—it’s just inspired by the concept of affirmative action.
People either love making new year’s resolutions, vow to never do it, or don’t really care. I can’t really say which group I fall in, but I took like to use the new year as an excuse to run an audit on how things are going. I’m not big no resolving to stop doing stuff. My most gratifying resolutions have come when I’ve committed to continuing to do something… or when I resolve to turn an occasional practice into an actual habit. The best resolution I ever made was to read 52 books that year. The first year I went for it (2010), I fell two books short, but was proud of the effort and enjoyed the ride. Since then, I’ve hit the mark every year, even if it means disappearing for a week or two at some point to get caught up.
In August 2017 I decided to focus my reading for the month on theme of Black August. By the end of the month, I felt well-schooled and started reflecting more on the choices I make about what I read and what I don’t read. I wouldn’t say it’s random or deliberate, but I try to read all types of books. I tended to think that I was covering all the bases pretty well. But then I question crawled into my head that I couldn’t shake. How often do I read books written by women. I assumed the answer would be plenty—maybe a little less than books written by men, but not too out of proportion. After considering the question for a while, I decided to get an actual answer. I was embarrassed. The numbers were not pretty. I estimated that for every book written by a women, I read more than four written by men. My first reaction was to say, “OK, I will try to read more books written by women.” But for some reason, the idea of affirmative action popped into my head—probably because I had recently been arguing about it with someone. Somehow I knew that trying to read more books by women was just not going to do it. I knew that my good intentions or consciousness of the problem would not actually correct the imbalance, at least not in my lifetime. So I thought, what if I just stop reading books by men for a while. The idea felt extreme or radical at first. What about all the great works, current and classic, that I would be missing out of, just because they were written by men?! But then it just started to sound like the only plan that made practical sense. Stop the bleeding! Moratorium on dude-writers.
So, is January 2019 and I haven’t read a book written by a man since August 2017. And it’s been lovely. I read so many things that I wouldn’t have otherwise. And I’ve read about familiar topics, but from different perspectives. It’s not exactly like there aren’t enough parts of my life where I get the opinions and perspective of men. All those great works that I’m missing out on… they will still be there when the moratorium ends. I have no clue when that will be. The sad thing is that this “extreme” policy still hasn’t been enough to bring my bookshelf into full equilibrium. It's been struggle... like that time in New Orleans when I asked the bookshop proprietor to recommend some plays written by women. His response: "There really aren't any." (!) But I’m enjoying it and I’m gonna keep going for now.
Before I sign off, I want to share with you some of my favorites from 2018. There are always too many to pick from, so I’ve decided to limit my recommendations to non-fiction. Please don’t get the impression that I only read books about the depressing state of the world today. This is just a snapshot of some recent books written by women that have helped me understand what’s going on, and what we might do about it.
Kelly Knight shares her findings, reflections and experiences from spending time with women who live in San Francisco's single room occupancy hotels. The title gives more than a hint about what they are struggling through, but the book goes deeper and broader to help explain the systemic nature of things.
The title of this book by makes it sound like a kooky conspiracy, but it is anything but that. Meticulously researched and well-written by Duke University Professor Nancy MacLean , this is a critical read for anyone that cares about national politics in our country. I learned a lot, and had never fully appreciated the connection between think tanks and privately funded "research" on policy. 
The badassery of Dr. Love is becoming a recurring topic in this blog. This book won't be released until February 19th this year, but I was luck to get an advanced copy from her. I will be writing more about this one in an upcoming post, so stay tuned for that!
This book is straight up scary and there's not other way for me to describe it. MIT Professor Andrea Louise Campbell shares the story of how a tragic car accident has changed the lives sister-in-law and their family. You can argue and debate about healthcare in this country all you want. There is nothing like studying an issue at the individual level—how does stuff all play out for a single person, or family? The answer is frightening, but we all need to fully understand how unsafe and insecure we are in this country.
I hope you can all make more time for the things you love this year, whether it's reading books, fighting the power or playing pinochle. Let's make it a great one.
Pura Vida,
Drew
PS: Please do NOT watch the "State of the Union" address on January 29th. Do anything instead. Thanks.
