Leadership: Competence and Cooperation

I just read this article about why so many incompetent men become leaders. The author's thesis is that we, as a society, are rotten at distinguishing between arrogance and competence; that men frequently think they're smarter than they actually are; and that female styles of consensus-building tend to be very effective.

(You mean lots of men strut around, making extravagant claims to impress in the moment, but then never delivering in the long term? *Gasp!*)

I am partially convinced. Yes, we tend to assume that people will be able to deliver what they promise--at least until we've been disappointed a few times.Yes, the set of skills needed to get someone elected as President of the United States is very different from the set of skills needed to govern.

On the other hand, he omitted some important ideas. If women tend to build effective coalitions, why haven't they risen into more executive positions? He didn't address the relationship between the glass ceiling and complicated reproductive choices women face. Neither did he mention the "Peter Principle" in which people "rise to the level of their incompetence," getting promoted until they stop succeeding and start stagnating.

His description of women leading through cooperation and consensus is not a new revelation. I've watched the Mormon Relief Society do amazing things for decades, partly through Divine Aid, and partly because our shared beliefs give us a shared vision of what needs to be done, not who should get credit for doing it.

(For more about the Relief Society's awesomeness, try this article by a woman--who is not LDS--about why the organization should run for President.)

Now, some personal reactions:

In my limited experience, men do get better as they age. The phenomenon seems most pronounced with adolescent males, and is still troublesome during college. After that, the behavior seems to wane somewhat. The problem is that some guys never outgrow it, and those are the guys who, according to this article, turn into the Pointy Haired Boss.

I got in a few scrapes in my youth by believing claims of exaggerated competence, only to discover the young man in question couldn't actually drive/speak Spanish/sing/perform acupressure as well as he boasted.

Eventually I wised up.

When I was 17, and a senior in high school, one boy said, condescendingly, "Well, no offense, Gail, but I'm better at math than you are." Had he simply claimed to be a math genius, I would have ignored him politely. But picking a fight by trying to put me down--I decided not to put up with it.

I pointed out that I was in Calculus, while he was taking Algebra II. He began the standard "I'm so incredibly smart that I tune out in class, and never do my homework because it's too easy, and our system measures the wrong things" excuse.

"That excuse only impresses me," I said, "If you ace the tests and still manage to get at least a B in the class." (Note: my husband, Jon, did precisely that. He slept through Calculus and then set the curve. Mercifully he doesn't brag obnoxiously about how good he is at math; he just IS good at math.)

"Well, but I have better math aptitude," he argued. "My brain is just wired differently than yours." I asked for his SAT math score. I had beaten him by 120 points.

At that point he either shut up or I walked away.

(I'm not bragging obnoxiously, either. I am reasonably good at math, but I know my limits. If you were surrounded by math geniuses, as I am, you would be really humble, too.)

I want to believe that most people also wise up and begin looking at actual performance, not the bluster surrounding it. I further want to believe that most people don't find extreme egotism attractive; one would have to be very smart to succeed in being simultaneously narcissistic and charming. Bill Clinton apparently carries it off fairly well, at least in person, but that's because he's clever at feigning interest in others. After he leaves people start to remember why they're mad at him.

It seems like there are three main paths to manager: the engineer who gets promoted on technical merit but then lacks interpersonal and communication skills; the MBA who gets promoted on ambition and organizational skills, but then lacks the technical competence to evaluate his underlings' work; and the rare successful entrepreneur.

The MBA would be much more likely to go for Dogbert's better-written proposal, or for the sparkly product, than to listen to Dilbert's very honest report about feasibility.

For years, I've assumed it's just incredibly difficult to find people with a wide range of skills, people who are technical but also social, firm but kind, and politically astute but also honest and communicative. They tend to be opposing traits, and it's difficult to find people in which they are balanced. Seriously, how many extroverted engineers do you know?

Forgive my gender stereotyping, but maybe what we need are more Mom'n'Pop stores, where the guy handles the technical side of things and the woman interfaces with the rest of humanity. Maybe we need to re-introduce private secretaries into the business wilds, or at least yoke opposites together.

The other option is to invest in people. Train them to overcome their weaknesses. My prediction? It will prove much easier to teach an engineer how to communicate than to teach an autocratic narcissist to self-regulate.

Obviously, incompetent people become managers. This article gives a plausible explanation for it, but I suspect it's only one aspect of a multicausal problem.

Political Polemics

I. INTRODUCTION

This morning, I saw this link posted on Facebook. In it, Reza Aslan, a prominent religious scholar, defended his latest book about the historical Jesus in an interview with Fox News. I watched the interview, laughed, cringed, and then felt torn. You can watch the entire ten minute interview here:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/andrewkaczynski/is-this-the-most-embarrassing-interview-fox-news-has-ever-do

On the one hand, I wanted to write a long post about how stupid Fox News looked. On the other hand, I figured it was obvious (to anyone who watched the interview, at least) just how stupid Fox News looked.

But...discipline be danged. I'm in an expansive mood. I'll just yell at Fox directly so that all ten of my loyal readers don't feel that I'm insulting them the way Fox News just insulted Reza Aslan.


II. SUMMARIZED SUBTEXT

For people too busy to watch the ten minute exchange, here's an abridged version, with my own interpretation.

Fox News: Reza Aslan, why would a MUSLIM want to write a book about Jesus?
Reza Aslan: I'm a religious scholar. I write about comparative religion and religious history. It's my job.
FN: Yes, but you're a MUSLIM. And you're writing about JESUS. Obviously you have some kind of horrible jihadist BIAS.
RA: Have you actually read my book?
FN: Well, I have several identical quotes here from Christian clerics who say that you're wrong, wrong, wrong!
RA: Have THEY actually read my book?
FN: And I have even MORE identical quotes from more people saying that your research is awful!
RA: Can you be more specific? Which of my several hundred sources do they dispute?
FN: Well, um, they just say that your interpretation is really skewed. And that you don't just have an agenda, you have a secret, HIDDEN agenda!!! Why didn't you confess that you were a MUSLIM?
RA: It's on page 2. So, obviously, neither your nor any of your staff have even cracked the cover. And you call yourselves journalists?
FN: [Ignores his point and begins foaming at the mouth] But I am here to uncover the truth: what, exactly, is your motivation for writing about Jesus???
RA: He's a fascinating historical figure. Would we be having this conversation if a Catholic nun wrote an article about the Buddha because she was interested in social justice and she thought the Buddha had some good practical ideas about helping the poor?
FN: Well, our time is up. In summary, I win because you're a POOPY HEAD! Thanks for the spirited debate!
RA: What debate? I figured you'd attack me stupidly, and you did. Thanks for helping my book sales!


III. REAL RULES OF ACADEMIC ENGAGEMENT

You see, Fox News, to participate in a real debate, you need to do a few things:

1. Study the other side's arguments. At least hire someone to write an accurate summary and then read the summary.
2. Make an effort to see things from another perspective. Acknowledge your own slant, but then step away from rabid reactionism. Reach for dispassion. At least try...
3. Be polite. Assume your opponent has honorable intentions unless you have strong evidence to the contrary.
4. Do actual research to support your own views. Weigh your sources. Learn the difference between primary, secondary, and tertiary evidence. Cite sources intelligently.
5. Accept nuance. Embrace it, even!

Now, I acknowledge that what normally passes for a "debate" in this country (i.e. the Presidential spectacle we get every four years) does not actually qualify under the above definition. No wonder people are confused.

In academic circles, though, people can still tell the difference. That was the problem; you, Fox News, were trying to have a political "debate." Reza Aslan was succeeding in being an actual scholar.

The juror in the Trayvon Martin case who said that she voted according to her reading of the law rather than her personal inclinations is a good example of this ability to distance oneself. Another example would be to say "I find abortion to be morally reprehensible, but I understand why it is legal."


IV. A THEORETICAL MODEL

I know you're having trouble with all these new ideas, Fox News, so I'll go the extra mile. I will model a hypothetical debate between a school nurse and myself on the topic of distributing free condoms in public high schools.

Nurse: I'm a mother of two teen-agers. I am seeing some worrying trends in the teen pregnancy rate and STDs. I want to protect all children, including my own. Condoms are a cheap and effective way to do that.
Gail: That is a valid point. If you look at the issue from a purely epidemiological perspective, what you propose is a cost-effective measure. It wouldn't be a silver bullet, because kids wouldn't always remember to use the condoms, and wouldn't always use them correctly--
Nurse: Yes, but even a small change in behavior would yield significant improvements in the public health.
Gail: That's true. I was going to say, from that standpoint, your proposal makes a lot of sense. It also makes sense as a fiscal investment since it would lower health care costs for decades down the line.
Nurse: Exactly!
Gail: I appreciate that you are trying to improve public health and save resources. I respectfully disagree with your method, though, because I'm coming at this from a perspective of morality. I don't want to subsidize behavior of which I disapprove.
Nurse: What can be more moral than saving lives and preventing suffering? Besides, abstinence education doesn't work. Lots of research has demonstrated that [she cites three recent studies], but the religious right refuses to accept that the policy is a failure.
Gail: Unfortunately, I must agree that "abstinence only education" in public schools has not been effective. I think those messages are better taught by parents and religions. That's why I propose the following Libertarian-style compromise: the school system teaches only the biology of reproduction and the legalities of consent. The curricula advances neither a pro-sex nor anti-sex agenda....As part of that compromise, though, we emphasize personal responsibility. We do not hand out free condoms; rather, we say "If you believe you're mature enough to have sex, you should also be mature enough to purchase your own condoms. If you can't handle the CVS cashier, can you really negotiate appropriately with your boyfriend or girlfriend? Whatever you decide, though, you need to solve your problems yourself. I won't do it for you."
Nurse: Well, I still disagree with you. I think kids will engage in sex no matter what, and it just makes sense to make that as risk-free as possible; it benefits everyone. Do you want to get stuck with the tax bill for unwed mothers who drop out of school and go on welfare?
Gail: No, I don't, but welfare reform is a topic for another debate. Perhaps we should "can of worms" that one.
Nurse: Fine. Let me just add that if I can't hand out condoms as the school nurse, I will try to open a free clinic right next door to the school.
Gail: [Politely] Good luck with that. I won't help, but I won't try to hinder you, either.
Nurse: Thanks for a polite discussion.
Gail: Likewise.

You see? You see how polite and reasonable we were? I didn't change her mind and she didn't change mine, but we gave each other plenty to think about. That's the way we should engage in public discussions, Fox News, and you failed miserably.


V. CONCLUSION

I will say that I've never seen Reza Aslan look more annoyed. If he walked into a party and randomly started announcing "I have four degrees and I'm a famous expert!" it would be arrogant and obnoxious. He was sorely provoked, though, and right to defend himself.

On the other hand, he's a very smart guy. He must have suspected something like that might happen, which is probably why he was so much better prepared than the interviewer. And he probably figured that if he was attacked, it would only help his book sales.

Well, his strategy worked. I am totally going to read Zealot now! I read No God but God and really enjoyed it. I have also enjoyed other interviews he's given over the last dozen years.

Ah, I feel so much better now that I've gotten that out of my system. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go write a blog post attacking Jan Shipps and accusing her of pro-Methodist, anti-Mormon bias. Without actually reading any of her articles.

See, if you want to engage in honest academic discussions, you should follow the guidelines above. If you want to score actual political points, though, you need to embrace the hypocrisy.

Educational Experimentation, II

[This started as a response to another comment. It tripped the filters, though, since it grew too long. Thus I am putting it up as a separate post.]

@ [Name] -- I appreciate your comment.

1) You are right that my anecdotal stories are not statistically significant. Just because my classmates were ill-prepared, it doesn't mean that all elementary education majors are idiots. I did not mean to imply otherwise, but I can see how it came across that way, and I apologize, less perfunctorily and more sincerely this time.

2) My second grade teacher was amazing. My fifth grade teacher was incompetent. (And I don't mean she couldn't handle me--I mean she couldn't handle the fifth grade spelling words and math problems she was supposed to teach. I rescued her many times with a tactful "question" which steered her in the right direction.)

How did a woman who couldn't do fifth grade math and spelling pass her college classes? How did she get hired to teach the subjects she couldn't do herself?

It is not fair to extrapolate from the above example that all second grade teachers are marvelous and all fifth grade teachers are morons. My specific fifth grade teacher, though, didn't belong in the classroom. Her love of children and her coursework were not enough to prepare her for the realities on the ground.

The previous post was not trying to fix every part of the educational system. I did not address remediation, acceleration, IQ, creativity, social problems, Common Core, standardized testing, disabilities, extracurricular activities, field trips, disciplinary policies, teacher turn-over, vouchers, or charter schools.

I was trying to make a narrow point about our system for recruiting, screening, and training teachers. I don't think I need to prove that our colleges of education are broken; the article and the study it referenced did that for me.

My stories merely illustrate the point.

3) You are also right that my children are outliers. Public schools are generally designed to handle the middle of the population: the mean +/- one (maybe two) standard deviation(s). In most places I've lived, which were admittedly middle- or upper-middle class, they did a reasonable job at that goal.

4) Other than a quick mention that the entire paradigm is ossified, I was not attacking the public school system--at least, not in this post. Again, I was criticizing the way we recruit, screen, and train teachers. That happens primarily in colleges of education and has little to do with the actual public schools. (In fact, the point of the article was that there was such a large disconnect between the two systems.)

You'll note that in my ten points, only the last two deal with what happens after the teacher is in place--and they are supportive of the teacher.

5) I am okay with the idea that middle and high school teachers need to be more specialized than elementary teachers. A second grade teacher may not need to have double-majored in education and another field. (S)he should still be adequately prepared to teach second grade material, though, and have a plan for how to handle exceptional students. (S)he should also have practical skills in classroom management. College education courses could do a much better job of supporting positive outcomes.

6) I don't "repulsively shun" the public schools. Over many years, I have tried public, private, charter, and homeschool options. Some years I have enrolled one child while homeschooling another. There is never a "perfect" answer; I just do the best I can to balance each child's needs each year.

There are many fine schools and excellent teachers out there.

7) In America, we have a myth that we can solve any problem simply by throwing resources at it. For decades, our education budgets have out-spent most other countries per capita without solving some fundamental problems.

Lots of efforts have been made to reform the system from within, to no avail. I believe that real reform will need to start from outside and compete. (Admittedly that hasn't worked very well for charter schools, but then charter schools are still greatly hampered by regulations.)

Here is another illustration. You suggested I put my talents to work for the public schools. I tried, I really did. When one son was in second grade, I held several meetings with the staff of his elementary school about his special needs. (He is profoundly gifted at math and also ADD.)

I didn't expect a second grade teacher to instruct my son in algebra. I got enormously frustrated, though, when the staff at the school (vice principal, psychologist, classroom teacher, and specialist teachers) all assured me that his needs would be met, but then parked him in a corner playing Monopoly. I was even more frustrated when they denied there was a problem--and rejected my repeated offers to be part of the solution.

I suggested that they let him read a book during math time and just trust me to handle his math instruction at home. They declined. I suggested that he could do independent study at his desk. I could send in worksheets and grade them at home. They declined. (Though that suggestion probably would not have worked; he was very distractible and might simply have stared off into space the entire time.)

At one point, I begged them to allow me to come to the school for an hour a day, pull him aside, and handle his math instruction myself. Failing that, I could volunteer in the classroom as a general aide and just try to keep an eye on my son during math time. They declined.

For a variety of social reasons, I wanted very much to keep my son enrolled at the public school. Their refusal to work with me made that impossible. I am not angry at any of the staff, but I recognize that the current paradigm makes internal innovation difficult.

I had a similar experience when another son was enrolled at a charter school. The charter school had been in the works for years, promising innovation, parental involvement, creativity, and a freedom from "teaching to the test." They wanted every family to be involved in building a great educational community.

A week after the school opened, the administration announced that, because of complicated student privacy rules and the expense of running background checks, there could be NO parent volunteers in the classroom.

Throughout the year, they also sent out apologetic notices about how the kids would be completing Yet Another Big Test in compliance with state law.

Yes, these experiences are anecdotal, but they led me to believe that reform from within is virtually impossible.

Khan academy, MOOCs, homeschool movements, and other initiatives are starting to compete with the public school systems. Not all of them will work, but some of them will flourish and effect important changes. (Hence my petri dish analogy.)

I understand that this drives teachers crazy, and I sympathize. Nevertheless, as a matter of conscience, I honestly believe that I will do more good as a "disruptive innovator" from outside the system. In the long run, I think that homeschooling my children and debating educational policy will benefit society more than "supporting" the local school and its accompanying paradigm. This is especially true when the local schools don't court my contributions, merely my compliance.

Thanks again for your thoughtful comments.

Gail

Educational Experimentation

I just read this article about teacher training colleges, and it struck a nerve. I am very opinionated on this topic, and I've felt a blog post brewing for years. This just pushed me over the edge. Apologies to all the education majors I'm about to offend.

There are many problems with U.S. education, and it's not fair to blame everything on the teachers. My post below does not address all of the complicated issues.

That said, I took a few education classes in college and then fled in terror. My fellow students were mostly dunces: they couldn't do research, write a decent essay, or grasp basic statistical principles. (More on that later.) The professors were little better: the curriculum focused on abstract theory and not on anything useful, like "this is how to quell a riot." I actually asked a tenured professor of education about classroom management once. He shrugged and said "Oh, just be consistent, and you'll do fine."

When I say the education majors couldn't grasp basic statistical principles, I'm not talking about "this is how I take a data set of test results and calculate the standard distribution." I'm not even talking about struggling with "this is why it's a lot harder for a kid re-taking the SATs to move from the 95th to the 96th percentile than from the 50th to the 55th percentile." No, I'm talking about problems like not even grasping why "scoring in the 99th percentile on a national achievement test" is different than "getting 99 percent of the answers right." Some of these people couldn't even figure out the difference between a mean and a median, let alone how to find each.

My class in "measurement and assessment in teaching" was actually very helpful. It taught me how to design a good test, the pros and cons of each type of test (essay, multiple choice, etc), and when to use each. Sadly, the material was wasted on most of my classmates.

I took a "Children's Literature" class in which half of the students were English majors and half were education majors. I peer reviewed the most appalling paper ever--three pages of poorly spelled ungrammatical gushing about how much the author just loved children, with nary a research reference in sight.

That semester, I frequently emerged from class shaken to the core. "I never want him to teach my kids math, or her to teach my kids English, or...well, I never want any of them to teach my kids ANYTHING," I told Jon. (This is a testament to just how shaken I was: normally I avoided any mention of hypothetical future children when talking to Jon.)

Don't even get me started with the problems of teachers of middlin' capability dealing with brilliant students who can out-think them at every turn. I was reasonably charitable to my teachers, but I recall sitting in Mrs. N's 5th-grade class, thinking, "If I didn't have a conscience, I could make this woman's life a daily living hell."

For years, I have considered the problem. If I were designing the perfect education system, how would I go about it? The simple answer is that, if I could, I would fix families. Since that isn't an option, here are my next best suggestions:

1) Raise admission standards to colleges of education. Require prospective teachers to pass some basic exams before they begin their course of study.
2) Require ivory tower college professors to spend a semester "in the trenches" every three years. (After all, we force "in the trenches" teachers to take college classes occasionally to re-certify. Let's reciprocate.) Bonus points for teaching remedial summer school classes in the inner city.
3) Recruit people who have mastered core areas and train them in how to teach. Would you rather have a French teacher who is great at sticking to The Book, or one who is actually fluent in the target language? Would you rather recruit an education major with a 2.0 GPA (from a mediocre school), teach him some rudimentary chemistry, and hope it sticks? Or would you rather grab a person who did R&D for DOW for a few years, give her intensive training for six months, and then shove her in front of a classroom?
4) Hold colleges of education accountable. Look at long-term success rates. Ask graduates to complete surveys after one, two, three, five, and ten years. See how many of them are still teaching. Publish this information to prospective students.
5) Focus more on guided real-world practice teaching and less on abstract educational theory. Most of the people in my classes who could answer questions about Jean Piaget were going to be hopeless at actually managing a classroom.
6) Apprentice new teachers to master teachers. Focus on practical techniques and problem-solving.
7) Start a pilot program to evaluate the "bar exam" idea. It has merit and should be considered. If it works, try to spread its adoption.
8) Raise teacher standards--AND pay. Recruit the best and then pay them well. Let go of our "desperate for warm bodies" model.
9) Once we have actual teachers in place, give them a great deal of leeway. Tell them what results we want, and hold them accountable--but don't micromanage the daily lessons.
10) Recognize that even the best teachers can only do so much with kids from failing homes. Don't expect teachers to be independent social workers. Support them, but don't demand miracles.

Never mind. Most of this is impossible in our current ossified system of politics, teacher's unions, and Tradition. Scrap it all and start over. Or homeschool.

If sea steaders can start petri dishes of sociopoliticaleconomic experimentation, I want to join them. Let's start an educational utopia and see what happens. It probably wouldn't work, but at least we wouldn't be trying to impose our latest teaching fads on the rest of the United States.

My only caveat is that the experiments must be performed by actual scientists and statisticians, not education majors.

Who's with me?

Stoves and Sex, part I

Recently Elizabeth Smart gave a speech about human trafficking at John Hopkins University. Her comments spawned many idiotic headlines about how she had “slammed abstinence education.” I watched the entire speech, and that’s not what I heard her say. I’ll address what she said, the reaction to it, and my reaction to both of the above in part II.

Right now, I want to talk about stoves.

Note: Technically, “oven” refers to the interior space where you bake cookies, cakes, pies, and Thanksgiving turkeys. “Stove” refers to the burners where you boil water and stir fry vegetables. “Range” means both of them combined in a single appliance, which is the norm these days. In my post, I use the three terms interchangeably, since they all involve heat that can be dangerous.

My apologies for blogger's annoying formatting regarding bullet points.

--ed

I have four boys. Two of them have survived toddlerhood. Two of them (ages 1 and 3) still terrify me daily. 

Recently we purchased a new gas range. How can I teach them not to stay away from the shiny stainless steel, the sparkly blue enameled oven, the pretty open orange flames? 

Here are some options:

1.       I shout. Every time a kid gets near the hot stove, I yell “No!” but offer no further explanation. The kid is mystified. Why is the stove bad sometimes and okay other times? Why can Mommy use stoves but not big kids who mostly use the potty? One day when Mommy isn’t looking, he reaches out and touches the stove. Nothing happens. Obviously Mommy is crazy and arbitrary. He shrugs off other “random” versions of “no!” and wanders into the street to play in traffic.

2.      I lie. “If you touch a hot stove, your whole body will catch on fire and you’ll be left with horrible scars and then you’ll be so ugly no one will ever marry you. And you might also die.” I show him a charred piece of toast as an object lesson. Given that my kids lean more towards “anxious” than “fearlessly independent,” he develops a lifelong phobia of kitchens and cooking. He eats fast food for the rest of his life, and dies young of a heart attack.

3.      I punt. When he acts curious about the appliance and asks how it works, I say “Don’t ask questions. All you need to know is that you shouldn’t touch it. When you’re older, I’ll explain everything.” I then act embarrassed and refuse to discuss the matter further. Dissatisfied, my young scientist asks his friends for information. He finds their magical explanations fascinating but contradictory. One day, he decides to figure it all out for himself. As he attempts to disassemble and reverse engineer the oven, he causes a small explosion.

4.      I preach. “Stoves are the spawn of Satan!” I say, and invent scriptures to support my supposition that the technology is evil. The kid gets very confused. As he grows older, he notices that most of his friends—even children from his same church-- think stoves aren’t sinful. He notices that Mommy still uses the stove and he worries for her immortal soul. As an adolescent, he shrugs off Mom’s hypocrisy and rejects all of her teachings. (After all, this is the same woman who lied to him about Santa Claus.) He quits going to church and declares himself to be an atheist.

5.      I babble. “See, ovens are generally good but sometimes bad. I’d really prefer that you not touch them, at least not when they’re hot, but I’m not going to actually enforce any kind of discernible standard. I personally didn’t use ovens until I was ten, but some families say a kid only needs to be eight and other say twelve…personally I think eight is a little young but I don’t want to judge so I’ll just make vague, weak  suggestions and babble about my own experiences and let my words wash over you meaninglessly…”

6.      I ignore the problem. “He’ll figure it out for himself,” I shrug. “A couple of second degree burns and he’ll teach himself everything he needs to know, right?” One expensive skin graft later, as I’m fending off Child Protective Services threatening to “repo” my child, I think this approach might have been a mistake.

None of those sound like good options, true, but I could try them. There are even worse options involving abuse, which I deliberately omitted. There’s also another choice to consider, though--one which might actually work:

7.      I parent:

·         I install knob covers on the burners. I lock the oven when it’s in use.

·         I seize opportunities to point out things that are “hot” and “cold” to teach him those concepts.

·         I make concrete rules like “Until you are five years old, you must stay in another room when I open the oven door.”

·         I issue warnings. “I’m about to take the pie out!” I beep like a truck backing up, if that helps to remind kids to keep their distance.

·         I enforce rules. “I told you to leave the kitchen and you disobeyed me. I was very dangerous to sneak up behind me and scream while I was leaning into the oven. I don’t care if you were playing “Hansel and Gretel”, it was still a horrible idea. Plus I’m not a wicked witch. I AM a mean mom, though, and you don’t get any of the cake.”

·         I invent teaching songs like this:

“Heat, heat in the range
Means that kid hands (and toys)stay away.

No whining or games:

When you see open flames,

You must find somewhere else for your play.”

·         I explain. When the child gets a minor burn from a cookie sheet, I reinforce my reasons. “Yes, it hurts,” I say, while applying aloe lotion and a bandaid. “That’s why we have a rule about not touching hot things.”

·         As the kid grows older, I allow him to assist in the kitchen, under my direct supervision. When I think he’s old enough, I allow him to make cookies all by himself. I also explain that he must clean up after himself or lose key privileges.

·         After eighteen years of effort, I watch him head off to college, secure in the knowledge that he can at least prepare pasta and potatoes. He has cookies down pat. He might even manage vegetables if he cared enough to try. At any rate, he probably won’t burn his apartment down or die of gas inhalation. Parenting win!

Public schools can have occasional “fire safety” days.  That’s fine. Sunday School teachers can say “obey your parents.” That’s great. Friends and family can demonstrate that they have similar rules. Excellent! The government can issue regulations that all new ranges sold in the U. S. must have child safety features. That’s probably beneficial, on balance.

Those efforts, done properly, could support my efforts at keeping my kids safe.

They could also be done badly. Imagine that the public school holds a “fire awareness” day in which an expert came in and talked to the kids about how pyromaniacs are just misunderstood. Two weeks later, the Sunday School teacher preaches that an interest in the chemistry behind flame is prurient. We visit the relatives, and they say “Rules stifle young children. Let them experiment all they want with the broil setting!” Then the government, concerned by a startling case of a toddler catching his house on fire, passes laws making oven use, even in a private home, akin to driving--with strict age, oversight, and licensing requirements. 

None of those would be helpful at all. The mixed message would be horribly confusing, and the regulations would be a huge and eerie over-reach into my home.

Still, good or bad, these other influences are limited. My guidance will be the single greatest factor in helping my children develop a healthy relationship with the range.  

---

Nothing can replace me modeling appropriate behavior every day in the proper context. There is simply no substitute for good parenting. 

---

The helpful messages are useful, though, and the scary scenarios are terrifying enough that I’d prefer the “support parents” version.

Everyone on board so far?

Great! Now, take everywhere I say “ovens” or “stoves” or “range” and replace it with “sex.”

I believe that our Heavenly Father has issued specific rules about intimacy. Basically, He has said that sex is great—as an expression of love between a man and a woman in a healthy marriage. It is spiritually and emotionally (and sometimes physically) dangerous in the wrong context, though, which is why he has placed restrictions on its use.  

God is not arbitrary; He has reasons for His rules.

I’ll pass this lesson on to my children.  The question is how I teach it, and how everyone else can help or hinder.

More on that in part II.

The Gotterdamerung of Twilight

Executive Summary

Literary criticism doesn't normally read like a technical manual, but I've decided to take pity on everyone. If you don't want to read all of my insightful commentary, I'll give you the simplified version.

1. Bella's survival depends upon Edward's self control. Naturally she spends most of her time trying to undermine his self control.
2. Their romance is based on shallow interests--and even those will disappear once Bella becomes a vampire.
3.  How is a vampire in a romantic setting supposed to, um, you know, function? I get more explicit below, but I don't have a good answer. I suspect there isn't one.
4. Twilight is the beginning of the end for vampires. Bella and all her ilk will fade--not with a bang, but a whimper.


Introduction

Warning: This post contains Twilight spoilers. If you're one of the few people on the planet who 1) hasn't already read the series, 2) hasn't watched any of the movies, 3) hasn't picked up any major plot points just from walking past the movie aisle at Walmart, but who 4) still intends to read the books someday, let me reassure you: Twilight is impossible to spoil. You may fall in love with the "romance" of it all, in which case you will ignore all criticisms of its message and merit. Or you will love to loathe its insipid characters and gaping plot holes. Either way, knowing the outcome of the story will have little effect on the outcome of your opinion.

A few months ago, I was in a grocery store late at night. An employee asked if I was there for the Twilight release. Normally I would choose to be flattered that I looked young enough to get asked that question. In this case, I was annoyed that I looked immature enough to get asked that question. "Ugh," I shuddered. "Don't get me started." Nobly restraining myself from ranting further, I purchased my unromantic milk, bread, and diapers, and then fled.

I'm finally ready to publish the rant. If I'd wanted it to do any good, I should have gone public years ago. I console myself with the thought that it wouldn't have done any good.

Unrealistic Roles

Bella is a bad role model for girls. She's weak, clingy, indecisive, and destructive. "My boyfriend dumped me and I'm too stupid to see that he did it to "protect" me, and now my life is over. I will stumble around like a zombie for months, emotionally empty without a man to 'complete' me." (And what was her father thinking, by the way? Don't you think he should have insisted that she get some counseling after three weeks in a major depression, not merely suggested it after waiting three months?)

Even when she's not depressed, Bella has a death wish. She wanders off into the woods with a strange vampire and no backup. After they're dating, she begs him to have sex with her even though he resists the idea. Bella--honey--your survival depends upon his self control. Don't run around trying to undermine his self control. Ever hear of double dating? Might keep you out of all kinds of trouble, like getting your heart broken (and then drained of every last drop of delicious blood) by a bad boy.

I could rant for pages about the "good girl saving the bad boy" theme. (Except she doesn't.) Or about her dysfunctional mixed messages with Jacob. All the feminist and literary and scientific criticisms in that vein have already been drunk dry by academic vampires, though. I have but two overarching complaints to add about romance and reproduction.

"Real" Romance

I've heard horror stories--lots of them--about a young twentyish mother of two looking at her husband and saying "I think you just don't love me the same way Edward loves Bella." Okay, now, I can understand a sixteen-year-old girl having completly unrealistic expectations about Romance and Marriage. But, come on! An adult? "I know you work a full time job and are also taking night classes to support your family and even build a better future for us, but if only you were tempted to murder me every day and yet nobly refrained..."

Right, I just got it. She's trying to drive her husband crazy until he's tempted to murder her every day but nobly refrains. Well played, crazy passive aggressive woman, well played.

Let's just see what this amazing relationship between Bella and Edward is built on, hmm? Through the first three books, we see him say the following things about why he loves her:

1. She smells delectable. Her blood has the most amazing aroma...
2. She's klutzy. He loves watching her trip and fall.
3. She blushes. He adores teasing her and embarrassing her slightly just to watch the rosy hue creep up her neck and cheek. (Probably this redistribution of blood makes her smell even more amazing when he's kissing her.)
4. She admires him. He has godlike reflexes and invulnerability. He carts her frail mortal frame through forests at super speeds. In his arms, she feels like she's flying as he gazes up at his handsome face, his sickly pallor. He sees his own deep, sunken eyes reflected in her own. (Although hers don't look like a raccoon with allergies and an abusive mate.)
5. He likes watching her eat. He experiences the pleasures of a balanced diet vicariously through her.
4. ... Um, that's it. I refuse to scour the entire series again looking for extra compliments, but I don't recall a single moment when he looks at her and says "I enjoy debating international politics with you!"

In other words, they don't have anything substantive in common. It's all adolescent hormones; it's not real. He'd probably get bored with it all after a few years, the same way he got bored of high school. And college. Oh, and being a serial killer.

Even further--think about this for a minute, Bella! If you become a vampire, none of the above will still apply. You will no longer smell like a chocolate brownie to him. You will no longer be capable of blushing. No more klutziness--you'll have the same godlike reflexes and invulnerability he does. Oh, and you won't be eating anything except cute furry animals. (Unless you cheat on your diet,  but you'd keep the occasional human snack a naughty secret.) Anyway, he won't be getting a kick out of watching you polish off an apple. Or an apple pie.

Sounds like a great basis for a marriage! I know most of these high school romances last sixty years, but in your case, I'm sure it will last six hundred!

And, speaking of marriage, we hit my other huge gripe.

Reproduction

Never mind the whole vague "chromosomes" explanation for how humans and vampires can interbreed and create a hybrid who can then interbreed with a werewolf. Never mind Mary Robinette Kowal's insightful question: if vampires can breed with humans, and if they have no natural predators, why haven't they overrun the Earth? If they have godlike powers and have been at this for a few thousand years, why aren't humans raised on ranches? Oh, but this is adolescent fantasy, not hard science fiction. I should quit quibbling.

Let's just focus on the romance, which in teen literature these days is equivalent to sex.

Right, the "sex." See, I have a really stupid question. Let's see if I can ask this delicately. How is Edward supposed to, um, you know, function? Seriously, am I the first person to ask this question? We don't want our preteen daughters to read this book, but if they do, we prefer they be innocent about the sordid mechanics of mating. But surely someone with a little experience would stop to question this gaping plot hole.

Never mind, forget the delicacy. Edward may have self control, but I can't contain my explicit criticism any longer. HOW THE HECK IS A GUY WITHOUT BLOOD SUPPOSED TO GET AN ERECTION?

(Now I'm blushing worse than Bella, but I feel so much better with that out of my system.)

Story and Backstory

I read the first novel because of a book club I was in. It sounded silly, but I was willing to go along and see what all the hype was about.

The first half of the first book was good. I kept thinking the author was setting up some beautiful allegory about Eve and Eden and innocence. I liked Bella's independence and confidence. Here was a girl who took Calculus, who balanced responsibility (to her family) and what she wanted (for herself) against silly expectations (like playing the "popular" game with her peers).

The scene were she turns down several invitations to a dance in a row? Glory! She embraced her klutziness as part of her identity, neither apologizing for it nor over-compensating for it. She didn't obsess about her own appearance. "I don't dance," she shrugged, and chose to be amused at the high school dating game, unconcerned about her long term prospects for popularity and romance.

"I like this girl!" I thought, and kept reading, waiting for the big payoff. How would the hints of Edenic allegory play out? Apples, innocence, immortality, knowledge of good and evil, human and vampire souls, choice and consequence, all woven into a subtle theme of forbidden fruit?

Was Bella part vampire? Why else would she be able to block Edward's telepathy, why else would Meyer mention her pallor repeatedly?

Sure she was an absolute idiot to go off into the woods with Edward sans backup plan. But she was also a teen-age girl, so that was in character. Too trusting, wooed by the romantic thrill of danger, wanting to "tame" a "bad boy"--yup, quintessential adolescent naivete. As long as she learned from her mistakes and grew as a character by the end of the novel...

...Except she didn't. Halfway through, things deteriorated. Bella behaved more and more irrationally. She threw herself into danger and then waited to be rescued. (Didn't stories start to move beyond that stale stereotype two decades ago?) Edward managed to control his instincts and do the right thing, but that was a triumph of his character, not Bella's. The Biblical Eve was an agent of change. She may have erred, but she acted. Bella just...lay there.

The big payoff of allegory just...fizzled. Nothing there.

I read the other books for similar reasons. I was in a book club, I was curious. I figured this series was silly but harmless.

If only they'd been real, I could have smacked each character. Hard. Repeatedly. So much for harmless: my ground teeth will never be the same.

Edward--make up your mind. Jacob--move on, honey. Dad--man up. Be a parent! Bella--do something, anything, proactive. Please. Come on people, do you seriously need four books for this soap opera?

Of course not. Obviously, you need five movies, too.

Conclusion

Now, see, that wasn't so painful. If you already loved the books, you didn't bother reading my rant. If you already loathed them, you agreed with me. If you haven't read them yet, crawl back in your cave now. There's still time.

If you can think of any other insightful criticisms to add, feel free.


While you're working on that, I'll be writing a fan fiction sequel set six hundred years in the future. After squabbling for a few centuries, Edward and Bella have gotten divorced. Edward travels around the world, trying to market his latest attempt at palatable artificial blood to the vampire community. It flops. Discouraged, takes a break from bioengineering and heads to Mars to pursue post graduate studies in physics.
 
Bella tries halfheartedly to commit suicide a few times. She fails. (She's mostly invulnerable and very irresolute.) Their kid, who has been widowed for 9/10ths of her life, moves back in with the still emotionally needy Bella. Mother and daughter sit on the porch every evening, sipping their beverages (Edward's last try at "vanilla mint julep" artificial blood) and wincing at the flavor. "It's like calling spam ham," sighs Bella, "But it's a shame your father couldn't convince anyone else to use it, even if it does leave an aftertaste of cleaning chemicals." As the sun sinks below the horizon, they reminisce about the good old days.

It is die Götterdämmerung--the "Twilight" of the Gods.