CCBC-Net Archives
Evaluation (Parting Words)
- Contemporary messages sorted: [ by date ] [ by subject ] [ by author ]
From: Eliza T. Dresang <edresang>
Date: Sun, 31 Oct 1999 13:35:41 -0500
PARTING WORDS: PART TWO
"This has been a passionate discussion and I certainly have watched it with fascination," said Jeffrey Canton. I do agree!
At the beginning of the month, I posed the following questions about evaluating books by and about American Indians: What is universal? What is unique?
No one wants mediocrity. We all want literature that is skillfully, thoughtfully, accurately, artistically written and illustrated. This is a universal. It applies to all books that we write, edit, design, publish, and put into the hands and hearts of children, including books by and about American Indians.
Thank you to the many authors, editors, publishers who have spoken up this month, sharing your perspectives on how this is, can, or might be done.
Nothing is really completely *unique* about evaluating this literature. But, two major topics have arisen that seem particularly problematic in relation to evaluating books by and about American Indians: (1) stereotypes and (2) authenticity and accuracy.
In my mid-month summary I noted that we a discussion of authenticity and accuracy. I could not begin to summarize all that has been said.
It appears that on this topic, also, the questions continue to be reduced to two: What is the truth (historical or contemporary)? and "How do we present the truth to children?" (should we ever discover it ourselves). In post after post (both to CCBC-net and to me individually) I have seen repeatedly two words: "listen" and "learn." Person after person has implored others to listen. Person after person has said, "I have listened, and I have learned." Neither we as adults, nor we as teachers, parents, and friends of children ever will know enough to be able to be able to be certain of the truth. But we can listen and learn and polish our perspectives each day. That is why the moderators of CCBC-net provided us this forum. So we all could try. We have not reached agreement on those two questions about truth and its representation -- and perhaps we never will
-- but I dare say each of us has moved a little closer to defining for ourselves what the answers mean to us while gaining more sensitivity about what the answers mean to others.
In Joseph Bruchac's work, all of it, storytelling plays a prominent role. Remembering this, instead of summarizing, I am going to share a synopsis of a story that itself seems to sum up what we may have learned this month. The story is called "The Dance of Elegba." It is a Yoruba tale brought to Cuba from West Africa.
Two farmers, Olufema and Olushegun, did everything together. They planted together, they harvested together, and together their brought their goods to the marketplace. Together, they set up their stalls on opposite sides of the rode.
Elegba, the orisha of change, looked upon these two friends and said,
"Their lives go well and they prosper, but life does not go in a straight line. . . . Life without contradictions is not the destiny of human beings."
Elegba put on his many-colored cloth and on his head he put his hat: one side red, the other side black. He danced past the two farmers in their stalls, one on one side of the road, one on the other. As soon as he'd passed, Olufema commented on Elegba's song, referring to him as the man in the black hat. Olushegun acknowledged the song, but not the color of the hat. It was red to be sure.
A heated discussion followed. Black. Red. Black. Red. The two friends who had never disagreed could not agree. A fight broke out. That is, until Elegba returned. He stood between the friends. Slowly he began to spin.
"First the black side of the hat appeared. Then the red side."
Olufema stared. Olushegun stared. Red. Black. Red. Black. Faster and faster Elegba spun, until the black and red had blurred into one. Sheepishly, the two friends turned to go home.
"Before they entered their homes, they made sure to leave a special offering to the shrine of Elegba who showed them to look one step beyond their own place on the road before losing a friend, or a good day of work at the market place of life."
(From Jaffe, Nina and Steve Zeitlin. The Cow of No Color: Riddle Stories and Justice Tales from Around the World. Holt, 1998.)
_________________________________________________________ Eliza T. Dresang, Associate Professor School of Information Studies/ Florida State University
Tallahassee, Florida 32306!00 e-mail: edresang at mailer.fsu.edu Phone: 850 644 5877 (w) FAX: 850 644 9763 (w)
Received on Sun 31 Oct 1999 12:35:41 PM CST
Date: Sun, 31 Oct 1999 13:35:41 -0500
PARTING WORDS: PART TWO
"This has been a passionate discussion and I certainly have watched it with fascination," said Jeffrey Canton. I do agree!
At the beginning of the month, I posed the following questions about evaluating books by and about American Indians: What is universal? What is unique?
No one wants mediocrity. We all want literature that is skillfully, thoughtfully, accurately, artistically written and illustrated. This is a universal. It applies to all books that we write, edit, design, publish, and put into the hands and hearts of children, including books by and about American Indians.
Thank you to the many authors, editors, publishers who have spoken up this month, sharing your perspectives on how this is, can, or might be done.
Nothing is really completely *unique* about evaluating this literature. But, two major topics have arisen that seem particularly problematic in relation to evaluating books by and about American Indians: (1) stereotypes and (2) authenticity and accuracy.
In my mid-month summary I noted that we a discussion of authenticity and accuracy. I could not begin to summarize all that has been said.
It appears that on this topic, also, the questions continue to be reduced to two: What is the truth (historical or contemporary)? and "How do we present the truth to children?" (should we ever discover it ourselves). In post after post (both to CCBC-net and to me individually) I have seen repeatedly two words: "listen" and "learn." Person after person has implored others to listen. Person after person has said, "I have listened, and I have learned." Neither we as adults, nor we as teachers, parents, and friends of children ever will know enough to be able to be able to be certain of the truth. But we can listen and learn and polish our perspectives each day. That is why the moderators of CCBC-net provided us this forum. So we all could try. We have not reached agreement on those two questions about truth and its representation -- and perhaps we never will
-- but I dare say each of us has moved a little closer to defining for ourselves what the answers mean to us while gaining more sensitivity about what the answers mean to others.
In Joseph Bruchac's work, all of it, storytelling plays a prominent role. Remembering this, instead of summarizing, I am going to share a synopsis of a story that itself seems to sum up what we may have learned this month. The story is called "The Dance of Elegba." It is a Yoruba tale brought to Cuba from West Africa.
Two farmers, Olufema and Olushegun, did everything together. They planted together, they harvested together, and together their brought their goods to the marketplace. Together, they set up their stalls on opposite sides of the rode.
Elegba, the orisha of change, looked upon these two friends and said,
"Their lives go well and they prosper, but life does not go in a straight line. . . . Life without contradictions is not the destiny of human beings."
Elegba put on his many-colored cloth and on his head he put his hat: one side red, the other side black. He danced past the two farmers in their stalls, one on one side of the road, one on the other. As soon as he'd passed, Olufema commented on Elegba's song, referring to him as the man in the black hat. Olushegun acknowledged the song, but not the color of the hat. It was red to be sure.
A heated discussion followed. Black. Red. Black. Red. The two friends who had never disagreed could not agree. A fight broke out. That is, until Elegba returned. He stood between the friends. Slowly he began to spin.
"First the black side of the hat appeared. Then the red side."
Olufema stared. Olushegun stared. Red. Black. Red. Black. Faster and faster Elegba spun, until the black and red had blurred into one. Sheepishly, the two friends turned to go home.
"Before they entered their homes, they made sure to leave a special offering to the shrine of Elegba who showed them to look one step beyond their own place on the road before losing a friend, or a good day of work at the market place of life."
(From Jaffe, Nina and Steve Zeitlin. The Cow of No Color: Riddle Stories and Justice Tales from Around the World. Holt, 1998.)
_________________________________________________________ Eliza T. Dresang, Associate Professor School of Information Studies/ Florida State University
Tallahassee, Florida 32306!00 e-mail: edresang at mailer.fsu.edu Phone: 850 644 5877 (w) FAX: 850 644 9763 (w)
Received on Sun 31 Oct 1999 12:35:41 PM CST
