Skip to main content

The first post...



Like many approaching middle-agers and digital immigrants, I'm new to the blogging world. I read blogs; I comment on blogs; I like blogs--I even know that "blog" is shorthand for web log, so there ya go.

While I hope to post about a range of topics, and hopefully focus in on issues of teaching and social justice, this first blog post is dedicated to my dog, Buster.

Buster is a rescue dog--and his issues run deep.

I used to be annoyed at those bumper stickers people had regarding their rescue pets, the ones that read: Who rescued who? Mostly, I was annoyed because I went back and forth between whether the object of the verb should be "who" or "whom." But then when I came to the surface and got over my pretension, I thought of Buster.

Buster doesn't care about the who/whom debate (most of my students don't either).  And when it comes to the notion that a pet can rescue his/her/their owner as much as an owner can rescue his/her/their pet, I find that kind of tender and sweet. And Buster is a dog who needs tender and sweet (so do I).

Buster has every issue you can imagine: compromised vocal chords (most likely from a botched de-barking episode); food allergies; former abuse; fear aggression; bad breath; phobia of air, barometric pressure changes, and houseflies. It's hard to be Buster.

And this is why I love him. Despite every type of setback imaginable, Buster is unabashedly Buster. He teaches me a lot about authenticity, even when it's not so easy.  And while I'm not apt to lunge at someone for petting me, and while I may not hide in the fireplace when a housefly is buzzing about, I know that Buster's authentic response to the world is something I strive for, too.

In the midst of global turmoil and homegrown racism, we need more Busters in the world: those who are ready to lunge at the problems we face and strike them head on. And perhaps our fears will become a source of empowerment that propels us to keep fighting the good fights.

Comments

  1. UnknownNovember 18, 2015 at 8:57 PM

    Nicely put!

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownNovember 29, 2015 at 7:55 AM

    Good ol' Buster. Yes, he's authentic as they come, and that authenticity is why, as you write, we love rescue dogs. But with the analogy to humans, when is attempting to bite a friendly hand "authentic," and when is it reactionary and misplaced aggression? When is "lung[ing] at the problems we face and strike[ing] them head on" working for positive change, and when is it fanning the flames of those very problems, depending on whose side of the fence one is on? We ought to know, unlike poor Buster, when a housefly is a housefly and not an incoming drone missile. I'm playing a bit of devil's advocate here (thinking about the Confederate flag and Syrian refugee controversies), and it's your post that got me thinking. So thanks for that, and keep it up!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lori CohenNovember 29, 2015 at 2:15 PM

      Yes, in the case of this post, lunging at the problems we face ideally means working for positive change, not allowing the status quo to dictate how our society functions, and ideally, dismantling structures of racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia...And indeed, let's hope we can distinguish a housefly from a more destructive force. We'll leave the houseflies to little Buster!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pedagogy in the Springtime: An Ode to Seasonal Teaching

Springtime in schools is exciting. And exhausting. As we prepare for end-of-year celebrations, performances, and rituals for closure, we must summon the same level of stamina we had when the school year began. Sometimes the light at the end of the school-year tunnel allows us to press forward until the finish. Sometimes the growth of our students inspires us to manage those final weeks of youth bouncing off the walls. Yet we also need to acknowledge, with care and honesty, that we are tired.  When I was in my first years of teaching, I always dreaded the slog between spring break and Memorial Day. Typically, we had about six to eight full weeks with no breaks. And as the sun came out and the weather got warmer, students increasingly struggled to be in the classroom. I was afraid I'd get eaten alive because I wasn't sure I had the energy to maintain my class routines with the same meticulousness as the fall or when a new semester began. And sometimes these fears became self-fu...
Post a Comment
Read more

Acknowledging Our Mentors

I recently began reading the Acknowledgements sections at the end of novels. I used to finish a book, close it upon completing the final chapter, and file it away on the bookshelf. Perhaps I am arriving late in the game of reading Acknowledgements; perhaps most of you have always read acknowledgments and are wondering why it took me so long to get there (no worries, feel free to judge). Regardless, I'm glad I finally took the time to do so. So many people help with the creation of a book, whether fiction, nonfiction, or textbooks. And I find myself inspired by the tributes authors compose to the unseen eyes and unheard voices who helped these authors generate their work. I have even found myself crying on occasion because of how much love and tenderness writers extend to their editors, friends, partners, children, and even pets. Sometimes authors acknowledge one or two people, and other times the lists are exhaustive. It's powerful stuff. In the absence of writing a ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Taking Care of Each Other: A Tribute to Mary Vencill

I first became interested in road cycling about four years ago. I always had an affinity for the bike and the freedom that comes with it, but I never felt inclined to ride a bike for anything other than a mode of transport from one place to the next--as I made my way to the mall, the movies, classes on my college campus, friends' houses. When I first bought my road bike, I hadn't accounted for riding on anything more than a series of flat surfaces or small inclines, and I never imagined riding much beyond Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. Admittedly, I was pretty freaked out by the small hill in my mostly "flat" neighborhood, and I wasn't convinced my brakes would save me from an impending fall. Given all the fears that arose for me, I never imagined that just nine months after buying my first road bike, I'd be signing up for AIDS/LifeCycle--and preparing to ride 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Enter Mary Vencill. For those who have been pa...
2 comments
Read more