The newest crop of award-winning films from Hollywood, "Lincoln," "Zero Dark Thirty" and "Argo" are all based on true stories. The key word here is "based." It seems that filmmakers have no trouble inventing scenes, creating dialog and inserting information that is completely made up if, in their opinion, it makes a better story. The rationale? Moviegoers "expect" an exciting chase scene in "Argo," or a Navy Seal raid on Osama Bin Laden's home to be noisy even if it never happened. Historians are worried because so many people are learning history from the movies. Will the story from the movie's point of view become the myth that supplants the careful scholarship and meticulous digging that drives the best historians to get it right? The good news is that these transgressions are being noticed But we authors who contribute to this blog, who craft nonfiction for children, may be held to the highest standards around. We're not allowed to make anything up. Period. Maybe we're the last group on the planet to be held to such high standards. Anna Lewis's recent post on Just the Facts hows how hard we work to make sure we're accurate.
April 2013 Archives
The erosion of the truth seems to be touching journalism as well. One previously absolutely inviolate journalistic standard was that every fact must be verified by at least three independent sources. It's hard for a reader to check on the accuracy of many stories because journalists can keep some of their sources secret. So one outcome is that people wind up reading and tuning in to the media they agree with. The biased medium becomes the arbiter of what it wants its audience to believe, cherry-picking from the many conflicting "facts" being touted in public that support different sides of critical issues. It's no wonder that the "echo chamber" of Fox News's [Un]fair and [Un]balanced skewed version of the news kept them in a bubble oblivious to the possibility that Obama would be elected, even after the election outcome was called by other news services. Many pundits dissected why Fox News got it wrong but the consensus seems to be that they had problems believing the inconvenient truth of independent polls so their own slanted views became their own truth. I Googled the words "journalism erosion of standards" and up came a slew of posts with many different examples about the extent of misinformation foisted on the public. There was so much disagreement between these posts that I'm now confused about the truth on a variety of issues. But all the articles seem to agree that many news organizations play fast and loose with the truth in the interest of ratings, readership, political and social bias, and the bottom line. Propaganda is alive and well in the good old USA.
What happens when misinformation is embedded in a compellingly told story that has a lot of truth to it? What should our response be when it is uncovered? Here's a thorny problem from the film "Lincoln": It seems there were two invented Connecticut "nays" against the 13th Amendment voting scene in the movie thus casting the Nutmeg State incorrectly on the wrong side of history. My initial reaction was: where were the fact checkers? This is the kind of error that is so easy to correct. Were the filmmakers being lazy or sloppy? The Connecticut congressman, Joe Courtney, called out the error in an open letter to director Steven Spielberg. In response, the screenwriter Tony Kushner admitted that it was no accident. He had made the changes deliberately. Kushner argues that the facts were changed to serve the larger story: "These alterations were made to clarify to the audience the historical reality that the Thirteenth Amendment passed by a very narrow margin that wasn't determined until the end of the vote. The closeness of that vote and the means by which it came about was the story we wanted to tell. In making changes to the voting sequence, we adhered to time-honored and completely legitimate standards for the creation of historical drama, which is what 'Lincoln' is." In other words, he used artistic license to shorten the voting scene in the film from the actual historical voting time in the interest of a dramatic effect. So it wasn't laziness or sloppiness. I think he has a point.
Dramas like "Lincoln" and "Argo" create tremendous interest in history. When kids encounter a compelling story or an amazing fact they want to know if it is true. The proper answer is "mostly." But a curious kid now wants to know what's true and what isn't. Aha! A teachable moment! What an opportunity! Telling details (small things that catch one's attention) can add to the credibility of a work if true or, if incorrect, indicate that the work was not vetted for accuracy and perhaps shouldn't be trusted. If only the interested person knew for sure which were which!
Maybe this is an opportunity for us children's nonfiction authors. Perhaps it takes authors who write history for children to create white papers on these films. They could explain what is true and where truth has been manipulated. They could ask questions like: Can you think of another way to meet the requirements of an historical drama without changing the facts? Are there any fabrications that are unacceptable in a work that portrays real events? If so, what are they and why should they not be included? What does a careless error of fact tell you about the creators of the work? Whose responsibility is it for those errors? Is the artistic license justified? Why or why not?
Searching for truth drives us authors when we're creating our books. Perhaps we need to add our voices into the larger conversation engendered by the popular media.
Over the years I have done countless school author visits, traveling to 49 states (only missing North Dakota) Canada and Mexico, Asia and Africa, Europe and the Middle East. I've been in excellent schools and indifferent schools but my recent author visit to Briarcliff Elementary, a K-1 school in Shoreham, L.I., was an outstanding exception. During this period of national school "reform," as dictated by lawmakers and politicians, it is refreshing to see that that high quality education is alive and well in a public school. I have long believed that the quality of a school is due, primarily, to the passions, effectiveness and resourcefulness of the principal. My evidence is admittedly anecdotal. But I think it is worth examining in light of the clouds on the horizon by policy makers who have little first-hand knowledge of what education should be, who are in bed with the corporations that dominate the school market, and who are determined to "fix" something, like this school, that isn't broken.
The principal, Patty Nugent, is warm, outgoing and welcoming to her students, her staff and especially to me, a visiting stranger. She is obviously in control of her school and her time since she cleared her schedule to host me for the entire day. This almost never happens to me, an outsider, paid for by the PTA to "enrich" their children's experience of science. Typically, I am greeted by the principal who then disappears for the remainder of the day. Not here. Patty and I spent the day together in a freewheeling discussion (between my programs) about the best ways to get children off to a great start on their journey towards meaningful lives. She began her career as a classroom teacher; then spent some time doing "Reading Recovery" so she has the hands-on experience working with children essential to an administrator whose title means "first" teacher. Her mission as principal is to empower her teachers so that they can inspire and empower their students. This is especially important for these young children who are just starting the process of acquiring the skills of literacy. She is not a micromanager, giving her staff plenty of room for their own creativity and critical thinking. Yet she will run interference with the powers-that-be and game the system, if necessary, to protect the learning that is going on in the classrooms.
The school building, despite its bright red front door, looks more like a French Country Estate than the typical suburban school, perhaps because it was once a French girls' boarding school. It was, in fact, the model for the mansion featured in the Madeline books by Ludwig Bemelmans, who lived down the street from it. There have been many extensions over the years adding space and facilities, but at least one classroom still has the heavy, dark ceiling beams of the original structure. Every hallway and classroom is festooned with student work giving the overall impression of creativity, industry and student engagement. There is a lot of hugging and handholding among students and teachers. But my biggest clue to the specialness of this school came from the behavior of the students and the role of their teachers at my performances.
One of the skills emphasized by the Common Core State Standards is listening. As a presenter, I watch my audiences carefully. Children can be twitchy, sleepy, chatty or even act-out attention-getting behavior during a presentation, especially the youngest children. As they say in the parlance of show business, it's a "tough room" to play. When I present to a K-1 group, I often follow the advice of author/illustrator Peter Catalanotto who long ago told me to seat the first grade in front of the kindergarten because the older children model better audience behavior than the younger ones. Everyone has a name card so I can call on them personally creating an instant intimacy as if I really know them. My presentation to this age group is shorter than the one I do for older kids. It is very interactive with choral responses to many questions. I make a teabag fly, levitate ping-pong balls and blow up toilet paper. I can tell that they are engaged from the brightness of their eyes and how they lean forward towards me. My biggest problem is to return them to a listening mode after they get excited. What struck me about the children of Briarcliff Elementary was that their involvement and decorum was well beyond my expectations for K-1. There was no lecture from their principal or teachers about how to behave at an assembly. Yes, they got excited and chatty with each other as they marveled at objects magically suspended in air. But they quickly quieted down, demonstrating unusual maturity and self-control. I almost never do Q&A with this age group because they often "share" a story instead of ask a question. However, I decided to break my rule because these children seemed ready for it. After I asked for questions and a child started to "share," his teacher gently interrupted and asked, "Is that a statement or a question?" The child immediately saw that his comment was inappropriate but he was not embarrassed or ashamed of his mistake. A school must be a safe place to make mistakes (even in public) and clearly Briarcliff is just that.
I visited a few classrooms and talked to some of the teachers who took obvious pride in their work. But they are all aware of the coming changes tied to the CCSS and fear that they will be constraining. In one classroom, there was a live webcam shot of a nest of baby eaglets on the large computer screen. The children were fascinated, watching this amazing bit of nature in real time. But the teacher confessed she could only put it on during "snack time" and there was no time in the day to explore books about eagles. She was afraid that soon she would be spending more time accounting for how she was meeting the new standards instead of actually meeting (undoubtedly surpassing) them. Already, excellent teachers are complaining that constant recordkeeping is eating into valuable instructional time. Top teachers know that when they teach well, they more than meet the standards. Let others observe them and parse the lesson. It's like asking concert pianists to notate the fingering of a piece they've mastered. (Not a good use of their time, to say the least.)
The teachers here are consummate professionals, not touchy-feely idealists or burnt-out apathetic veterans. A teacher came in to see Patty to share the results of an evaluation of a new student. They both knew exactly where the child was with respect to her reading skills and they have many arrows in their quiver to move her to the next level. No child slips through the cracks here.
In recent years the "reformers" have shone their spotlight on school "failures." Yet all good educators know that student achievement in schools is built on experiments -- taking risks, trying new things, seeing what works and building on the successes. They are realists who know that not every venture produces a home run. They also know that collaboration -- a collegial support system among the faculty and students working together -- builds more positive results than competition. Current policies are throwing out the baby with the bathwater. Suppose a school got rid of all its failing students? That would definitely solve its score-keeping problem. Getting rid of failing schools, punishing them for failing, and starting over with new schools to improve the scores is as doomed as a society full of high-school dropouts created by failing schools. As a former board member of a charter school, I saw first-hand how difficult it is to create a terrific school from scratch, no matter how well-intentioned the founders nor how well-funded the venture.
Why can't successful schools, like Briarcliff, help other schools? Why is a school's success often achieved by subversive practices that used to be hailed as great teaching? Why can't we just go back to letting teachers do what they dreamed of doing when they entered into this profession? The workplace is crying out for employees who can learn new things, who are creative, who are self-starters. Schools that prevent teachers from modeling these behaviors will not produce the educated workers that employers seek. It makes me sad that, in the public school landscape, Briarcliff is such a singular exception and that its wings may be clipped as an unintended consequence of the next dictum from on high.
Early in my career, before "Science Experiments You Can Eat" was published in 1972, I contracted to write a book on how money works for a series called "Stepping Stone Books." I had written a few books called "First Books" for Franklin Watts (now an imprint of Hachette) but this assignment was with a new publisher, Parents' Magazine Press (which apparently no longer exists). I entitled my book "Making Sense of Money," and set about creating it. I remember that it was a struggle. I had to educate myself in economics (not my strong suit) and actually read (plowed through) Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations." I labored long and hard before I finally sent it off to my editor (now long deceased). She returned the manuscript with a cover letter so scathing that I destroyed it (now, I wish I hadn't) but I well remember her searing criticism: "Your manuscript shows little thought or care. Writing for children is a serious business. You have a lot of nerve thinking you can do this." The returned script was covered with blue pencil. (Daggers to the heart!) My husband was outraged. He thought I should tell her to go do something unmentionable. "But we need the money," I said.
So here's what I did. By return mail I wrote:
Dear Lillian:Thank you for your comments. I'm sorry that I disappointed you. I hope my next attempt comes closer to your expectations.
I couldn't look at the script for three weeks. Then I bit the bullet, took myself by the scruff of my neck, and forced myself to rewrite, paying close attention to every comment, conceding to her language whenever possible. My pain and efforts paid off. The book was published and I went on to write three more for her. A number of other authors, more prominent than I, also worked for her in the Stepping Stone series. When I read their books I noticed that we all sounded exactly alike. Lillian stifled each author's voice with her heavy-handed blue pencil to create a uniform style in a multi-author series. Clearly, she knew how to shape us up to fulfill her vision for the books. (Now, when I want an example of bad writing to show students, I use the first paragraph of one of those books.)
That was my first clash with an editor, but not the last. Over the years I have fought many battles for various creative aspects for my work; won some and lost some. But I don't think I'm unique. My personal story is representative of countless editorial skirmishes many other nonfiction authors have also engaged in, initially to gain a place at the table as professionals and then later as we keep pushing the envelope to make our genre a true art form.
In 2009 an editor told me that my submission didn't meet National Education Curriculum Standards and she sent me the link so that I could read them. My first reaction: steam came out of my ears. My book met seven out of eight standards! My second reaction: I can't do this alone. I'll bet there's help out there from other authors. So I founded iNK Think Tank from the wonderful and extraordinarily talented community that is the Interesting Nonfiction for Kids blog (I.N.K.) founded in 2008 and now in its sixth year: a small but mighty band dedicated to bringing the books and wisdom of nonfiction authors into the classroom.
Fast forward to 2013:
The "21st Century Children's Nonfiction Conference" will take place on the weekend of June 14-16 in SUNY, New Paltz. Bender Richardson White (BRW), a nonfiction book packager in the UK, is the main corporate sponsor. But iNK Think Tank is also a corporate sponsor. (How 'bout that!) The conference will provide editorial coaching workshops for new authors, networking for established authors, a forum for nonfiction publishers to discuss the changes in the marketplace, and strategies for teachers for using nonfiction in their classrooms as mandated by the Common Core State Standards. Lionel Bender, founder of BRW, asked me to review an editorial he was preparing for "Publishing Perspectives" a British online magazine. (I'm now editing an editor; how 'bout that!) His editorial, published on March 25, is called "Children's Nonfiction Publishing Comes of Age." On the Saturday morning of the conference, I will be telling my story of the evolution of our genre, "Winning the Nonfiction War," as the keynote speaker. Hopefully, it will pull more recruits into our cause. Understanding the real world and the various disciplines that explain and describe it needs more than an encyclopedia (or even a wikipedia) and textbooks. It requires many voices and a subtext of humanity.
The name on my birth certificate is, "Vicki Linda;" it means "beautiful victory." Hmmmmm.....
