Cinderella, Introvert Princess

So, what I'm about to say is inevitably influenced by the fact that I've seen Moana about 100 times. Here it is: Moana is a bit of a pushy loudmouth. I know the narrative is that the new Disney princesses are bold and rescue themselves and that's great and I'm generally all for that. But I think there's something to be said for an old princess like Cinderella. Rather than thinking of her as a passive doormat, why not think of her as quietly self-assured? After all, she literally gets the last laugh: in that ending scene where the loud mean sisters destroy literature's most famous shoe, she just sits back and laughs like the bad bitch that she is and says, "But I've got the other slipper."

Why is everyone so angry?

As an English teacher and writer, I have what seem, probably to others, to be unlikely feelings about fancy bookmarks. Fancy bookmarks, like fancy writing journals, while they seem like an ideal gift for people like me, actually cause me a lot of anxiety. They're so beautiful; what if what I have to say doesn't isn't worthy? I know, too, that lots of people prefer to write things like poetry in such journals, in old-fashioned paper and ink. Not me. Too much commitment. I like the forgiveness of the computer, with its delete key and its cut and paste function. I recently discovered an old poetry notebook of mine, and I had, at the end, resorted to printing out what I had written and paper-clipping it to the pages of a fancy notebook that I felt bad for not using--it was lovely, it had probably been a gift, etc. I have similar feelings toward fancy bookmarks; I read like I breathe air, and I can't be worried that a beautiful work of art will slip from the pages as my book bangs around the house or the car. I also feel committed to read a particular book if I assign it the fancy bookmark. Too much stress. Instead, I use the little subscription cards that fall out of magazines to mark my pages. They are a bit sturdier than the receipts you get at the library or the bookstore, but you still don't feel bad to lose them.

So even though I didn't buy the fancy bookmark I saw the other day in Barnes and Noble (I still remember the joy I felt when they first opened: "It's two stories! Like a department store, but for books!"), the quote from Socrates featured on it has made a particular impression upon me: "Wisdom begins in wonder." 

When I think about public and academic discourse now, and, worst of all, when I see it on social media, I'm struck by the pervasive feeling of anger. If I were to ask, naively, "Why is everyone so angry?" I know the answer I would get. But I think something else is going on; I don't think one person, one name, is enough to explain all the anger. Life has always been hard, injustice and evil always rife. 

I think of my students, growing up amid all this anger. How would everything be different if we approached life from a place of wonder? I hope that on my best days, I can bring a little bit of wonder back to the pursuit of wisdom.