Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

How to Give Your Children a Love of Reading

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About a month or so ago Eden came to me with a problem.

“Mom, I need your help.” Catching a whiff of tension, I set down whatever I was doing and looked up, all hands on deck.

“It’s Daddy,” This was a surprise since I couldn’t think of why she would be this tentative with Paul, “You know how we’re reading The Fellowship of the Rings? I want to stop but I don’t want to hurt Daddy’s feelings. Would you talk to him for me?”

My kid wanted me to break up with her dad and his book on her behalf. This was a new one.

“Why do you want to quit reading the book? I thought you liked it. You loved The Hobbit.”

To be honest, I had found this surprising. The only reason I read The Hobbit was because of her father’s love for it and my love for him. It took me another 20 years to read the The Lord of the Rings and I only did that when I knew the movies were being made. I far preferred the trilogy to The Hobbit and assumed if Eden liked the latter, she would definitely enjoy the former.

“I did love The Hobbit but The Fellowship goes on and on. They keep getting into trouble after trouble after trouble; it just gets to be too much.”

Eden and I are in a sweet spot with reading. She is a strong girl and can be resistant to things I suggest. Last summer I recommended she try, Caddie Woodlawn, an all time favorite of mine and my mother’s before me. Eden turned up her nose and I let it go until Christmas when I decided—that’s it—we’re reading it together. By Chapter Two she was hooked and we read it several nights over the holiday. It was wonderful.

Paul did the same thing with The Fellowship of the Ring: he just kept reading it and very soon they got to a better part and Eden was engaged in the story again  and they moved onto Two Towers without skipping a beat. Paul and I have jokingly fought over who gets to read to Eden and I think she loves all of it.

It’s my turn now and we’re reading The Great Brain, another favorite from my childhood.

What books did you love as a kid? What are some you’ve enjoyed reading with your own children?

Older Than Jane Austen

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On this day, 195 years ago, Jane Austen died. She was 41.

I don’t know how old I was the first time I read Pride and Prejudice, maybe twelve, thirteen at the most. Too young, I , gulped the book skimming for dialogue. When I tackled Emma I actually heard Jane Austen’s voice. I think it was a comment about Mrs. Elton and it made me sit up literally and literarily. Austen’s ability to say so much with such an economy of words and in direct contradiction to what her character was speaking astonished me and I’ve never fully recovered.

I do not call her Jane.

I consider all books which are sequels of sorts, abominations but enjoyed both Bridget Jones  and Clueless which were loosely based on Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion and Emma, respectively.

Ironically, reading Jane Austen’s novels nearly cost me my husband. Short story: Paul and I started dating when we were children and no man should be compared to Mr. Darcy, let alone a sixteen year old boy.

I almost didn’t name our older daughter, Lydia, for obvious reasons, but Lydia Hodgson is no Lydia Bennett. If you had to peg her for a Bennett sister, she’s probably a mashup of Elizabeth and Jane.

Mansfield Park is the only title I don’t read habitually, though I’ve read it several times.

My friend, Jamie Chavez recently blogged about the “controversy” over the extent of editing Austen received. She is a fine editor herself and considers it a tempest in a teapot. I agree.

 I’ve known since I first read Pride and Prejudice and the introduction by her nephew that she died young. Although 41 sounded pretty old to me then.

Last week I turned 42 and I remembered her age at death, not realizing the anniversary was so close to that of my birth.

There is no point in comparing oneself to Jane Austen although she could have made good work of my love story.

 I’m so thankful she “let other pens dwell on guilt and misery.” In the early days after someone burned my house down I turned to the Bible, P.G. Wodehouse and her.

I am glad she sat in her little chair and wrote and wrote until the very end of her days.

Reading is our drug of choice

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This is Christopher at church. Some Sundays he brings the mug he made in Ceramics class. The look on his face is reserved for when he’s indulging a request of mine (posing with his mug for a picture) but doesn’t mind.

Tomorrow is Christopher’s sixteenth IEP (Individualized Education Program). This is the plan that is created to determine what services a child in Special Ed will receive and what accommodations will be made to support the child. This is also where goals are established for the coming school year. The goals, whether or not they are achieved, reveal the child’s progress.

Last week he took a vocabulary test (PPVT-4 for those in the know) and scored the age equivalence of a 25-year-old. Christopher is sixteen.
That’s pretty impressive for any kid, but for a young man who is hard of hearing it’s flat out amazing.
I’m proud of my boy.

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Christopher is preparing for school in the fall or rather the school is preparing for him.  We are busily scheduling and attending assessments to create a plan and determine necessary accommodations.  Accommodations is special ed speak for a little help.  
Yesterday he had his first assessment, this one for speech and language.  Before we left I was talking to my sister Torey on the phone.  I told her I was a little worried.
“As well you should be,”  she said.
‘I’m afraid they’re going to tell me I’m a rotten teacher – no they won’t even give me that, they’ll go right to, “You are a terrible mother!'”  We laughed picturing me crumpling to the ground sobbing.  My potential humiliations are a minefield for our amusement.  
At the school the therapist assured me that it wouldn’t take long.  She left me in the lobby and bustling off to her office, Christopher loping after her.  Before I knew it they were back and she was beaming.  His speech (meaning his ability to speak, i.e. his pronunciation and articulation) was great and his language (vocabulary) was fantastic.  The therapist has never had a child with hearing issues score as highly as Christopher did.  She was almost giddy when she showed me the results.  “YOU have done an excellent job teaching him, ” she said, clutching my arm.
I didn’t quite swoon into the river of adulation remembering that his math skills had yet to be considered.
She explained the test to me.  To start she had administered it the normal way.  She would say the word in question and he would point to an appropriate picture.  He wasn’t doing terribly well, which wasn’t a surprise to her, but I think she was having to repeat herself, so she changed her approach.  She decided to write the word down and allow him to read them.  From that point he knew every one and he almost completed the list before the time ran out.  The therapist has never had a student get that far before.  
“He is very bright!  We just need to make sure he can hear what is being said.”  Bingo.  We talked about possible accommodations.
She showed me the words he had missed: carpenter, canister and appliance.  These were right before she began to write the words.  I was surprised that he didn’t know these, but knew it was possible.  He knows every appliance in our home (and read many of the owner manuals) but I wasn’t sure I ever referred to them collectively as appliances and that was the sort of word he might not come across in his extensive reading.  
I explained this to the therapist.  “Do you have canisters?”  She asked.  We don’t, at least not on the counter and it’s possible that word has never been used in our home either.  I called Christopher over and pointed to the list.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Oh,” he said gesturing with his hand as he does when he’s searching for words, “it’s a container you use when you want to seal something.”  
“He knows it!’  The therapist hissed.
I pointed to the word carpenter, “What’s this?”
“Someone who cuts wood,” more hand gesturing, “and builds things, like houses.”
“Do you know any carpenters?”  I asked.
“Uncle David.”  I nodded.
I looked at the therapist who was beaming.  “His score is even higher!”  He knew appliances too.
We showed Christopher where his age was recorded as well as the age he was assessed for language.  “You won’t need to meet with me!”  The therapist said.
Next week he has several more assessments and then there will be the formal meetings where everything is taken into account and plans are made.  I have been his mother for over 13 years, his special ed advocate for 8 and his full time teacher for 4.    I finally feel equipped to interpret all the testing, consult with the specialists, consider recommendations from the administrators and discuss and pray everything over with Paul.  And finally, this is what I truly believe; that God is going to guide us because Christopher has a hope and a future.  It’s not all up to me.  
I have travelled the long way round to this conclusion, but I can’t look back and shame myself.  I’m just happy to be here now.
 

http://alisonhodgson.com/2009/04/304/

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“Bridget Jones Diary” by Helen Fielding

This was a reread for me.  It always makes me laugh and is a good Christmas time read.
“For Love” by Sue Miller
Great story, well written.  I recommend.  I want to give you a quote that made me turn down a page, but I need to go to sleep.
We have been stricken with the flu/plague.  Christmas, when you’re already a bit behind schedule, is the PERFECT time to be bedridden.  Eden, Christopher and I were all laid low.   Today was for recovery, laundry, cleaning, shopping and wrapping.  Tomorrow is more wrapping and cooking.
Have begun a post about the plague since, as is to be expected around here, with the horror, came funny stories.
Here’s praying that Paul and Lydia don’t succumb.  

http://alisonhodgson.com/2008/12/341/