I have no special standing to speak on the career of Senator Daniel Inouye of Hawaii, who died yesterday at age 88 -- apart from his having been in public office for the entirety of my conscious life. David Graham did a very good appreciation of Inouye last night on our site. (Wikipedia photo of Lt. Inouye, at roughly age 20.)
But on the principle that you should never pass up the opportunity to give a deserved compliment; with the knowledge that we've come reflexively to view all politicians as unprincipled corner-cutters (a perspective Americans have held through most of our long history); and with the understanding that Inouye's bravest exploits were long enough ago that many Americans would never have heard of them, I wanted to direct attention to the character and dignity of this man.
His bravery during the Second World War was of both the physical and the moral variety. Physical, in the episode for which he won the Medal of Honor. The details of what he did, as set out in the Medal of Honor citation, are almost incredible. His moral courage lay in volunteering to serve, in a segregated Japanese-American unit in the European theater (the famous 442nd Regimental Combat Team), at a time when tens of thousands of Japanese-Americans were being interned as alleged security threats.
Inouye was most clearly in the public eye during the Watergate hearings, which themselves occurred before most of today's U.S. population was born. He was dignified, fair-minded but probing, and non-showboating, in the way we would like to think our senators should always be. Jim Webb, a fellow decorated and wounded combat veteran who served with Inouye these past six years in the Senate, released this statement last night, which rings true.
I deeply regret the passing of Senator Inouye, for whom I had enormous respect as a famed soldier, a principled public servant, and a United States Senator who broke new historical ground with his service. He was a leader whose dignity and judgment caused him to be listened to by politicians of both parties and of all political philosophies. He will be remembered as one of the great Senators of the post-World War Two era. I am grateful for having had the opportunity to serve alongside him.
It is worth recognizing and remembering people who have played positive roles in national life. Their examples might do some good.
UPDATE: Thanks to George Conk for pointing me toward this TPM appreciation of Inouye last night. Conk has video of Inouye's other most prominent moment in the national spotlight, during the Iran-Contra hearings.
Senator Inouye first got my attention in his confrontation with Oliver North (and Brendan Sullivan). His closing statement is a masterful 'we come not to bury Caesar but to praise him.' I've got the video and text links here.
I was living in Southeast Asia during the Iran-Contra hearings, which in those days before worldwide 24/7 cable news meant that I never actually saw them. Inouye's statement on North, shown in video here, is genuinely gripping.
James Fallows is a national correspondent for The Atlantic and has written for the magazine since the late 1970s. He has reported extensively from outside the United States and once worked as President Carter's chief speechwriter. His latest book is China Airborne.
Forget the Common Core, Finland’s youngsters are in charge of determining what happens in the classroom.
“The changes to kindergarten make me sick,” a veteran teacher in Arkansas recently admitted to me. “Think about what you did in first grade—that’s what my 5-year-old babies are expected to do.”
The difference between first grade and kindergarten may not seem like much, but what I remember about my first-grade experience in the mid-90s doesn’t match the kindergarten she described in her email: three and a half hours of daily literacy instruction, an hour and a half of daily math instruction, 20 minutes of daily “physical activity time” (officially banned from being called “recess”) and two 56-question standardized tests in literacy and math—on the fourth week of school.
That American friend—who teaches 20 students without an aide—has fought to integrate 30 minutes of “station time” into the literacy block, which includes “blocks, science, magnetic letters, play dough with letter stamps to practice words, books, and storytelling.” But the most controversial area of her classroom isn’t the blocks nor the stamps: Rather, it’s the “house station with dolls and toy food”—items her district tried to remove last year. The implication was clear: There’s no time for play in kindergarten anymore.
Meaning comes from the pursuit of more complex things than happiness
"It is the very pursuit of happiness that thwarts happiness."
In September 1942, Viktor Frankl, a prominent Jewish psychiatrist and neurologist in Vienna, was arrested and transported to a Nazi concentration camp with his wife and parents. Three years later, when his camp was liberated, most of his family, including his pregnant wife, had perished -- but he, prisoner number 119104, had lived. In his bestselling 1946 book, Man's Search for Meaning, which he wrote in nine days about his experiences in the camps, Frankl concluded that the difference between those who had lived and those who had died came down to one thing: Meaning, an insight he came to early in life. When he was a high school student, one of his science teachers declared to the class, "Life is nothing more than a combustion process, a process of oxidation." Frankl jumped out of his chair and responded, "Sir, if this is so, then what can be the meaning of life?"
Even in big cities like Tokyo, small children take the subway and run errands by themselves. The reason has a lot to do with group dynamics.
It’s a common sight on Japanese mass transit: Children troop through train cars, singly or in small groups, looking for seats.
They wear knee socks, polished patent-leather shoes, and plaid jumpers, with wide-brimmed hats fastened under the chin and train passes pinned to their backpacks. The kids are as young as 6 or 7, on their way to and from school, and there is nary a guardian in sight.
A popular television show called Hajimete no Otsukai, or My First Errand, features children as young as two or three being sent out to do a task for their family. As they tentatively make their way to the greengrocer or bakery, their progress is secretly filmed by a camera crew. The show has been running for more than 25 years.
A new study finds that people today who eat and exercise the same amount as people 20 years ago are still fatter.
There’s a meme aimed at Millennial catharsis called “Old Economy Steve.” It’s a series of pictures of a late-70s teenager, who presumably is now a middle-aged man, that mocks some of the messages Millennials say they hear from older generations—and shows why they’re deeply janky. Old Economy Steve graduates and gets a job right away. Old Economy Steve “worked his way through college” because tuition was $400. And so forth.
We can now add another one to that list: Old Economy Steve ate at McDonald’s almost every day, and he still somehow had a 32-inch waist.
A study published recently in the journal Obesity Research & Clinical Practice found that it’s harder for adults today to maintain the same weight as those 20 to 30 years ago did, even at the same levels of food intake and exercise.
What happens when a father, alarmed by his 13-year-old daughter's nightly workload, tries to do her homework for a week
Memorization, not rationalization. That is the advice of my 13-year-old daughter, Esmee, as I struggle to make sense of a paragraph of notes for an upcoming Earth Science test on minerals. “Minerals have crystal systems which are defined by the # of axis and the length of the axis that intersect the crystal faces.” That’s how the notes start, and they only get murkier after that. When I ask Esmee what this actually means, she gives me her homework credo.
Esmee is in the eighth grade at the NYC Lab Middle School for Collaborative Studies, a selective public school in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan. My wife and I have noticed since she started there in February of last year that she has a lot of homework. We moved from Pacific Palisades, California, where Esmee also had a great deal of homework at Paul Revere Charter Middle School in Brentwood. I have found, at both schools, that whenever I bring up the homework issue with teachers or administrators, their response is that they are required by the state to cover a certain amount of material. There are standardized tests, and everyone—students, teachers, schools—is being evaluated on those tests. I’m not interested in the debates over teaching to the test or No Child Left Behind. What I am interested in is what my daughter is doing during those nightly hours between 8 o’clock and midnight, when she finally gets to bed. During the school week, she averages three to four hours of homework a night and six and a half hours of sleep.
For some parents, the deadline for a kid's financial independence has gotten an extension.
My 22-year-old daughter, Emma, waved goodbye to her college campus last spring and walked into a job this fall. Given the still-tepid state of the economy and all the stories—in the news and from friends—about recent graduates who can’t find work, you might well imagine that my husband and I are thrilled. And we are. Sort of.
Emma’s job is a good one, and she is lucky to have it. She is an editorial assistant at a well-respected magazine. But it is the kind of job that countless millennials are landing these days: part-time, low paying, with no benefits.
So, after we spentnearly a quarter of a million dollars on her college education, one thing has become clear: Our investment in our daughter’s future is far from over.
In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.
Something strange is happening at America’s colleges and universities. A movement is arising, undirected and driven largely by students, to scrub campuses clean of words, ideas, and subjects that might cause discomfort or give offense. Last December, Jeannie Suk wrote in an online article for The New Yorker about law students asking her fellow professors at Harvard not to teach rape law—or, in one case, even use the word violate (as in “that violates the law”) lest it cause students distress. In February, Laura Kipnis, a professor at Northwestern University, wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education describing a new campus politics of sexual paranoia—and was then subjected to a long investigation after students who were offended by the article and by a tweet she’d sent filed Title IX complaints against her. In June, a professor protecting himself with a pseudonym wrote an essay for Vox describing how gingerly he now has to teach. “I’m a Liberal Professor, and My Liberal Students Terrify Me,” the headline said. A number of popular comedians, including Chris Rock, have stopped performing on college campuses (see Caitlin Flanagan’s article in this month’s issue). Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Maher have publicly condemned the oversensitivity of college students, saying too many of them can’t take a joke.
Will Joe Biden get in? Will Rand Paul get out? Can Ben Carson and Bernie Sanders keep tallying huge fundraising reports?
Political reporters are like sharks: No one likes them, you don’t want to see them at the beach, and once they smell blood in the water, they start circling. Hence two big stories this week: the continuing Joe Biden campaign watch, and the mounting Rand Paul death watch.
Every day that Hillary Clinton continues to struggle to put her email scandal behind her and change the subject, the pitched speculation about a Joe Biden run for president seems to increase. Several times a week, there seem to be new reports about Biden edging toward a run. (How near can he get? Does his proximity to a run keep increasing, asymptotically?) This week, CNN said it would hold a chair for the vice president to compete in the first Democrat debate until as late as the day of the debate, October 13. No dice: On Thursday, CNN itself reported that Biden won’t decide before the debate, but in the second half of October. These are only the latest revisions to a timeline that keeps moving back.
Perfect has been the way to be for several generations of women. I don’t remember my grandmothers suffering from this syndrome: women who raised families during the Depression, who baked and gardened and read well; who were fundamentally happy, and felt no pressure to look like stick figures. But those Mad Men years took their toll.
Racing in from a long day at the office, an evening of cooking and homework ahead, my first instinct is to go to the fridge or the cupboard and pop a cork. It soothes the transition from day to night. Chopping, dicing, sipping wine: It’s a common modern ritual.
For years it was me at the cutting board, a glass of chilled white at my side. And for years this habit was harmless—or it seemed that way. My house wine was Santa Margherita, a pale straw-blond Italian pinot grigio. There was always a bottle in my fridge, and I’d often pour a second glass before dinner, with seeming impunity.