Saturday Morning Reflection

Politicians, wealthy business owners, newspaper editors, and publishing companies have a history of behaving like they have stumbled upon the magic bullet that will solve the literacy achievement woes of public schools. This should be no surprise. Education is big business. In my early years as an educator, I was a speech and language therapist. I had deep knowledge of oral communication processing but my understanding of how reading and writing were connected to oral language was spotty. My assumption was that phonics was the magic bullet for students struggling with reading. I was bold enough to be annoyed that others had not figured this out. As I spent more time in classrooms, I quickly realized that maintaining this simplistic view of literacy was too narrow to assist language learning disabled students to become academically successful. My desire to better help children drove me to devour professional journals and books and co-create lessons with teachers. Wanting to know more propelled my thinking and practice. It still does. One would think that this experience would have cured me of being romanced by the concept that magic bullets can solve complex problems. Nope.

I bought a Magic Bullet for my husband for Christmas.  I don't have a good track record for choosing gifts that my husband actually likes. I wanted this year to be different. He had taken a liking to smoothies but I was tired of the noise and blender mess. I had seen the infomercial for the Magic Bullet and thought I had stumbled upon an easy solution to an annual problem. And it was on sale at a local department store. It looked cool so I bought it, wrapped it up, and put it under the tree. On Christmas, he opened it, looked at the box thoughtfully and said, "Wow . . . why did you buy this? We already have a blender. "

Hurt because he had essentially rejected my gift, I explained, "It is different from a blender and it is perfect for smoothies and it is easier to clean. Just look at the box!" He set the box aside and said, "Oh . . . very nice, honey, thank you."

Then my college age daughter chimed in, "If you don't want it dad, I'll take it. I think it's cool." I shot her a teacher look and said, "You don't even rinse your coffee mug. How are you going to clean it after you use it?" It was clear that we all had different agendas.

Later that afternoon, my husband spent at least 2 hours reading online reviews and checking out consumer reports. The verdict was in. The Magic Bullet would be returned. And not because it wasn't a fine product. It simply didn't serve my husband's purpose. And spending the money on a product for the cool factor didn't seem fiscally responsible. Our old blender, although it took more time to clean and required more counter space and was as loud as freight train, had a more powerful motor and was able to grind ice and frozen strawberries effectively without jamming. Please don't take offense if you own and love a Magic Bullet. And some Magic Bullet blenders may have more muscle than the one I bought. But for my husband, the Magic Bullet just wasn't . . . magical.