I always think I'm going to hear the sound of a freight train long before it actually barrels down upon me and wipes me out.
If today is any indication, it's time for me to rethink that assumption.
My mother and I took my children with us to try out a new tearoom not far from our house. The weather today was unseasonably warm, but here at Christmas - 3 days we were so full of the joy and anticipation that comes with this time of year we really didn't care.
As we walked in to the charmingly decorated building, we were greeted by a lady we've known casually from the Denneys restaurant across the highway. She'd been a waitress there for years and even though we'd not eaten at Denneys in recent months, we all recognized each other instantly.
She enthusiastically greeted us and gestured to a second woman who used to work for Denneys and now worked at the tearoom. It seemed as though there had been a mass exodus from the 24-breakfast joint, with these women exchanging the highway traveler and trucker crowd for a more refined environment in which to serve food.
Once we were seated, my mother asked the second woman, "Does Albina still work at Denneys?"
The woman, who was setting up a nearby table for a newly-seated customer, replied off-handedly, "No, she passed away awhile back."
Bam.
We were instantly pinned beneath the train and I could feel my oxygen beginning to seep away.
Albina Callaway had worked at Denneys as long as we've lived in our community and she was a favorite fixture of not just ours but many, many other regular customers who came in for coffee and pie or -- like my family often ordered -- a full-scale lunch complete with dessert.
What made Albina special to us was that she was from Russia, and my mother and I absolutely adore all things Russian.
Albina was no exception.
Tall and thin with dark hair and a wide smile, she spoke English with the deep, rich accent I heard in my dreams for weeks after we returned from two separate trips to the USSR back in the '80s.
I loved to hear her stories about her family back home, her experiences upon coming to America, her little girl Michelle.
She always took time out from serving customers and cleaning tables to chat with us, asking about my children and what they were doing. She knew we were homeschoolers and she often remarked on how well-behaved my kids were (even when the boys were climbing up the back of the booth or sliding up and down the bench seat).
If Albina happened to see our car pull in to the parking lot, she'd have our drinks on the table before we even hit the door. I always ordered water for my kids and for myself an iced tea.
Typical of the Russians we met on our trips, she always addressed my mother as "Mama," a term of endearment used with any grandmotherly woman whether they were related to you or not.
"Mama!" she would say to my mom, "What would you like today? Coffee, maybe, or tea?"
One day, not long after we'd become acquainted and my mother and I mentioned to Albina that we'd travelled to Russia years ago, I noticed her wearing a cross on a chain around her neck. I remembered her saying that her ancestors were Muslim Tartars -- the people who had swept across into Russia as part of Genghis Khan's Golden Horde in the 13th century.
I was curious about the cross necklace, so I asked her about it.
"Oh yes," she said, smiling. "I was born a Muslim but when I got older I learned about Jesus Christ and I converted to Christianity." I asked her if her parents, who still lived in Russia, were disappointed with her decision.
"Yes, at first," she said. "But I told them I could not go back to that other way of thinking."
Then there was Albina's little girl, Michelle. When we met Albina, Michelle was still very little and not yet in school. As each year passed, she never failed to mention how now Michelle was in kindergarten, now first grade, etc. She carried Michelle's picture in her ticket book and loved to talk about the cute things she was saying or doing or making.
Shortly before Christmas last year, we were in Denneys talking to Albina when something was said about everyone's plans for Christmas Day.
"Oh, I'll be working," she said, frowning. "I have to work and on that day I'll make extra, so it's good. It's good."
Albina was one of the hardest working women I guess I've ever known. Her husband, an American she'd met and married some years before moving to Texas, had health problems and worked a grueling schedule. Albina worked days, nights, overtime, extra time, holidays. She was pulling her own share of the load for the entire family, and sometimes it showed in her face. Her smile would be bright, but her eyes would look tired.
Learning that she would have to celebrate Christmas Day the night before so she could be with her daughter, my mother and I decided we wanted to do something nice for Albina so her Christmas Day wouldn't be simply work.
We decided to get her a gift.
We selected two presents -- a sundae-making set with the little glass dishes and all the ingredients she'd need to make treats with her little girl, and a toy for Michelle. My mother, who'd studied the Russian language at one point, made up a Christmas card with the greeting in Russian and we all signed it.
When Christmas Day came, we weren't scheduled to be at my in-laws for several hours so we bundled everyone up and headed to Denneys to present our gifts.
Albina was indeed there and she was very surprised to see us. She was even more surprised when we gave her our presents and she read the card. "It's Russian!" she exclaimed. "You wrote this in Russian! Oh my God! My God! It's in Russian!"
We didn't know it then, but that would be our only Christmas with our new and treasured friend.
I learned today that Albina, only 38 years old, died in late September from a rare genetic condition. Her parents came from Russia to be with her but she had already lapsed into a coma by the time they arrived. She was buried in the veteran's cemetery in Houston because her husband is a vet.
She leaves behind her parents, a brother, a husband, and little Michelle.
She also leaves behind a lot of customers who came and went from Denneys but who, like us, were touched in some lasting way by the tall, smiling Russian woman who served up our food with a hearty helping of joy.
I am trying to remember the last time I saw her, but I cannot. I didn't think I'd need to, so there is no concrete "last" day with Albina. Rather, I'm left with a collage of vague impressions, a handful of specifics, and guilt for staying away from the diner for so long.
Years ago, a friend who'd been with us on our first trip to the USSR gave me a cassette tape of a love song popular in that country at the time. It was performed by the famous Russian singer Alla Pugacheva and titled, "Million Roses" (Million Alyh Roz).
Million, million,
Million of red roses
From your window, from your window
From your window you can see
Who's in love, who's in love
Who's crazy in love with you
My whole life for you
I will turn into flowers
Albina was a lot like the man in this song who vows to fill the whole world with beautiful flowers for the one he loves.
She worked hard to fill the lives of those she cared about with friendship, joy, and love.
I found her cell-phone number listed on a public information website so I dialed it to see what would happen. Even though she's been gone three months now, her familiar accented voice still answers, so I left her a message.
Do svidaniya, Albina. Goodbye, Albina.
Ya budu skuchat' za toboy. We will miss you.
Wordly discourse on everything from the sad state of public education, politics and world peace to vegetarianism, breast vs. bottle, religious persecution, bad media, and all manner of life's vagaries.
December 21, 2010
December 16, 2010
Heaven forbid we endanger public education
The new governor of Florida has pissed off his state's teachers' union and a whole host of others whose livelihoods depend upon the continued enshrining of public education as THE only form of legitimate learning.
I say good for him.
Gov. Scott wants every child in his state to have a voucher so that parents or guardians can choose the school that's right for their kid. The vouchers would be valued at roughly $5,550 per student, the same amount spent on average to educate them publicly.
This is shocking in an age in which parents are expected to do less and less -- even encouraged in some cases to do less and less -- and where our Nanny State is often quick to remind us that IT knows better how to raise our children and not WE ourselves.
Sadly, too many generations have come to trust, and even style their lives around, this notion and our continued poor performance in several key academic areas is the result.
(The shiny new report from the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development released earlier this month shows American students lagging behind those of 12 other nations in reading, math, and science. As a nation, we get a "C," says federal Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, labeling the report a "massive wake up call" for the nation.)
And yet, AND YET, we are supposed to continue down a road that is not leading us anywhere?
That's apparently what the Florida Supreme Court and opponents of Gov. Scott's idea would like Floridians to do.
Read the quotes below from a report by Yahoo! News blogger Liz Goodwin to see what I mean:
The Florida Supreme Court has ruled private-school vouchers unconstitutional, concluding that they endanger the free public school system.
Education historian Diane Ravitch tells The Lookout Scott's plan could hold up in court if passed by lawmakers, despite the state Supreme Court ruling. "The real danger is that he sends a signal that it's politically fine to attack public education, which has been one of our most valued institutions and a bulwark of our democracy," she writes.
Heaven forbid we endanger the free public school system, the one that continues to demand more bucks even as taxpayers get less bang for them, the one that refuses to let go of its internationally unparalleled dependence upon standardized testing as the sole means of determining who is educated and whether they graduate (never mind the kids who pass these tests and STILL can't read or write or do math at grade level), the one that fights any and all efforts to make sure qualified teachers are in the classroom even as it makes some bad teachers bulletproof to termination.
Ms. Ravitch is a great writer and I admire much of her work, but I respectfully disagree with her that public education, certainly in its current form, is a "bulwark of our democracy."
How can it be anything of the sort when democratic values are undermined in classrooms nationwide? Students and teachers expressing politically incorrect views are routinely castigated. Remember the boys in California who wore American flags on their shirts one day and were asked to turn their clothes inside out or face suspension for "aggravating racial tensions" between white and Hispanic students? The teacher in that same state who had quotes from the Declaration of Independence on his classroom wall and was told to take them down? Or the news story that comes in at least once a year about some kid who wears a pro-life message to school only to have administrators foam at the mouth -- even as tolerance for homosexuality takes front and center stage in classrooms starting as early as kindergarten? Or, one of my personal favorites, the little boy with autism whose teacher actually thought it was a good idea to have his fellow classmates vote him out of class for behaviors related to his disability?
What's democratic about ostracizing ideas or perspectives we don't like? Patriotism, religious symbolism (student in New York earlier this year who wore a crucifix to school and was told to remove it), political views, handicaps -- they've all been fair game for public school administrators who either don't know the 1st Amendment or who don't give a damn whether it's upheld.
Bulwark of democracy? Really? REALLY?
Ms. Ravitch doesn't explain why giving parents a choice in their child's education isn't democratic, by the way.
Every time another report comes out decrying the achievement gaps between American students and those in places most Americans would never want to live, I cringe.
We are still the wealthiest nation in the world and we still can't seem to get it right. We are victims of a self-perpetuating bureaucracy that feeds upon itself -- and our children -- in order to survive. Survival of The System has become more important intrinsically than what The System produces, and the result is generations of children who spend 12 years of their life, give or take, locked into a way of learning that teaches few of them how to learn and lets few teachers actually teach in ways that are proven to nurture learning.
I applaud Gov. Scott for daring to challenge the long-held view that the emperor of public education is fully and fashionably dressed.
Restore parental authority, restore teacher autonomy, and in doing so, you restore democracy.
Nothing less will do.
And one more thing: It seems to me that if public education in Florida is so worthy of being preserved, the anti-voucher crowd need not be so vehement in its opposition. Surely parents will see that public schools are a better choice and will send their kids and their voucher monies there. Right? Right?
I say good for him.
Gov. Scott wants every child in his state to have a voucher so that parents or guardians can choose the school that's right for their kid. The vouchers would be valued at roughly $5,550 per student, the same amount spent on average to educate them publicly.
This is shocking in an age in which parents are expected to do less and less -- even encouraged in some cases to do less and less -- and where our Nanny State is often quick to remind us that IT knows better how to raise our children and not WE ourselves.
Sadly, too many generations have come to trust, and even style their lives around, this notion and our continued poor performance in several key academic areas is the result.
(The shiny new report from the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development released earlier this month shows American students lagging behind those of 12 other nations in reading, math, and science. As a nation, we get a "C," says federal Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, labeling the report a "massive wake up call" for the nation.)
And yet, AND YET, we are supposed to continue down a road that is not leading us anywhere?
That's apparently what the Florida Supreme Court and opponents of Gov. Scott's idea would like Floridians to do.
Read the quotes below from a report by Yahoo! News blogger Liz Goodwin to see what I mean:
The Florida Supreme Court has ruled private-school vouchers unconstitutional, concluding that they endanger the free public school system.
Education historian Diane Ravitch tells The Lookout Scott's plan could hold up in court if passed by lawmakers, despite the state Supreme Court ruling. "The real danger is that he sends a signal that it's politically fine to attack public education, which has been one of our most valued institutions and a bulwark of our democracy," she writes.
Heaven forbid we endanger the free public school system, the one that continues to demand more bucks even as taxpayers get less bang for them, the one that refuses to let go of its internationally unparalleled dependence upon standardized testing as the sole means of determining who is educated and whether they graduate (never mind the kids who pass these tests and STILL can't read or write or do math at grade level), the one that fights any and all efforts to make sure qualified teachers are in the classroom even as it makes some bad teachers bulletproof to termination.
Ms. Ravitch is a great writer and I admire much of her work, but I respectfully disagree with her that public education, certainly in its current form, is a "bulwark of our democracy."
How can it be anything of the sort when democratic values are undermined in classrooms nationwide? Students and teachers expressing politically incorrect views are routinely castigated. Remember the boys in California who wore American flags on their shirts one day and were asked to turn their clothes inside out or face suspension for "aggravating racial tensions" between white and Hispanic students? The teacher in that same state who had quotes from the Declaration of Independence on his classroom wall and was told to take them down? Or the news story that comes in at least once a year about some kid who wears a pro-life message to school only to have administrators foam at the mouth -- even as tolerance for homosexuality takes front and center stage in classrooms starting as early as kindergarten? Or, one of my personal favorites, the little boy with autism whose teacher actually thought it was a good idea to have his fellow classmates vote him out of class for behaviors related to his disability?
What's democratic about ostracizing ideas or perspectives we don't like? Patriotism, religious symbolism (student in New York earlier this year who wore a crucifix to school and was told to remove it), political views, handicaps -- they've all been fair game for public school administrators who either don't know the 1st Amendment or who don't give a damn whether it's upheld.
Bulwark of democracy? Really? REALLY?
Ms. Ravitch doesn't explain why giving parents a choice in their child's education isn't democratic, by the way.
Every time another report comes out decrying the achievement gaps between American students and those in places most Americans would never want to live, I cringe.
We are still the wealthiest nation in the world and we still can't seem to get it right. We are victims of a self-perpetuating bureaucracy that feeds upon itself -- and our children -- in order to survive. Survival of The System has become more important intrinsically than what The System produces, and the result is generations of children who spend 12 years of their life, give or take, locked into a way of learning that teaches few of them how to learn and lets few teachers actually teach in ways that are proven to nurture learning.
I applaud Gov. Scott for daring to challenge the long-held view that the emperor of public education is fully and fashionably dressed.
Restore parental authority, restore teacher autonomy, and in doing so, you restore democracy.
Nothing less will do.
And one more thing: It seems to me that if public education in Florida is so worthy of being preserved, the anti-voucher crowd need not be so vehement in its opposition. Surely parents will see that public schools are a better choice and will send their kids and their voucher monies there. Right? Right?
December 15, 2010
To be with you . . .
The day her family buried Elizabeth Edwards, I was standing in my kitchen preparing to make cookies for two Girl Scout parties while my children helped their grandmother decorate our Christmas tree.
Save for my messy house and the din of kids, cats, and radio music, it nearly resembled a modern-day Norman Rockwell picture.
The moment reminded me again how blessed I am.
Like many Americans, I've been touched by the story of Mrs. Edwards. I've railed against her philandering husband and pondered the tragic aspects of dying while one's children are still so young.
Her story touches a lot of raw nerves. People struggling with longstanding illness, wives betrayed by husbands, children left motherless, a mother forced to soldier on in the face of the unknown -- all of these, and others, somehow relate to this woman who lived some very private moments in a very public way.
Save for my messy house and the din of kids, cats, and radio music, it nearly resembled a modern-day Norman Rockwell picture.
The moment reminded me again how blessed I am.
Like many Americans, I've been touched by the story of Mrs. Edwards. I've railed against her philandering husband and pondered the tragic aspects of dying while one's children are still so young.
Her story touches a lot of raw nerves. People struggling with longstanding illness, wives betrayed by husbands, children left motherless, a mother forced to soldier on in the face of the unknown -- all of these, and others, somehow relate to this woman who lived some very private moments in a very public way.
December 4, 2010
Boy with autism 1, school district 0
A Florida boy whose teacher stood him up in front of his kindergarten class at the tender age of 5 and asked his fellow students to vote whether he should remain in that class has been awarded $350,000 by his school district.
The teacher is back in the classroom after being off for a year of unpaid leave.
The boy was in the process of being diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome (high-functioning autism) and had been sent to the principal's office for behavioral issues.
When he returned to class, the teacher had him stand up in front of the other kids so they could each take turns telling this little kid how his behavior had personally affected them.
Then they voted him out.
Let's see. . . Humiliation, shame, encouraging gang mentality, fostering a sense of exclusivity.
I think $350K is cheap and the school district got off way too easy.
The teacher will pay none of the settlement herself because, according to one newspaper article, she was acting within the course and scope of her employment.
Really? Guess that explains why she's back in the classroom. After all, she was just doing her job.
The silver lining in this story is the fact that now someone has set a precedent for suing a school district because it failed to properly and reasonably protect the interests of a little kid with autism.
Schools everywhere oughta sit up and take notice. The next child someone shames may turn out to be much more expensive.
The teacher is back in the classroom after being off for a year of unpaid leave.
The boy was in the process of being diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome (high-functioning autism) and had been sent to the principal's office for behavioral issues.
When he returned to class, the teacher had him stand up in front of the other kids so they could each take turns telling this little kid how his behavior had personally affected them.
Then they voted him out.
Let's see. . . Humiliation, shame, encouraging gang mentality, fostering a sense of exclusivity.
I think $350K is cheap and the school district got off way too easy.
The teacher will pay none of the settlement herself because, according to one newspaper article, she was acting within the course and scope of her employment.
Really? Guess that explains why she's back in the classroom. After all, she was just doing her job.
The silver lining in this story is the fact that now someone has set a precedent for suing a school district because it failed to properly and reasonably protect the interests of a little kid with autism.
Schools everywhere oughta sit up and take notice. The next child someone shames may turn out to be much more expensive.
Forget the special day, we need HELP
Congress is considering creating a special day to recognize the parents of special needs children.
It won't change any laws, give us any tax breaks, or force the much ballyhooed health reform provisions to actually provide for our children.
No real change (no hope, either), no tougher enforcement of IDEA (that's the federal Individuals with Disabilities Education Act), no governmental aide for families who pay out of pocket for therapies for their children.
Even as Congress -- and Sen. Harry Reid in particular -- turns its sights to the DREAM Act, the one that would give illegal immigrant children a shot at citizenship even though their parents broke our immigration laws, parents of special needs children nationwide continue to struggle to provide even the most basic care for their children.
Many of these kids are high needs and require incredibly expensive medical supplies and therapies. Others are borderline and may need only speech therapy or social skills classes.
With autism, for example, said to affect 1 in 110 American children, it seems Congress could get more bang for its buck if, as part of healthcare reform and education reform, it also bothered to reform the way states deal with their youngest disabled citizens.
But disabled kids don't vote, do they? The DREAM Act is all about kissing up to potential voters in the next election and Sen. Reid knows it.
The Bible warns against feeding children stones instead of bread.
What a pity no one in Congress seems to be paying attention to this. A day of recognition for parents of special needs children is like a big fat boulder right between the eyes. Meanwhile, we go hungry for answers, options, and hope.
It won't change any laws, give us any tax breaks, or force the much ballyhooed health reform provisions to actually provide for our children.
No real change (no hope, either), no tougher enforcement of IDEA (that's the federal Individuals with Disabilities Education Act), no governmental aide for families who pay out of pocket for therapies for their children.
Even as Congress -- and Sen. Harry Reid in particular -- turns its sights to the DREAM Act, the one that would give illegal immigrant children a shot at citizenship even though their parents broke our immigration laws, parents of special needs children nationwide continue to struggle to provide even the most basic care for their children.
Many of these kids are high needs and require incredibly expensive medical supplies and therapies. Others are borderline and may need only speech therapy or social skills classes.
With autism, for example, said to affect 1 in 110 American children, it seems Congress could get more bang for its buck if, as part of healthcare reform and education reform, it also bothered to reform the way states deal with their youngest disabled citizens.
But disabled kids don't vote, do they? The DREAM Act is all about kissing up to potential voters in the next election and Sen. Reid knows it.
The Bible warns against feeding children stones instead of bread.
What a pity no one in Congress seems to be paying attention to this. A day of recognition for parents of special needs children is like a big fat boulder right between the eyes. Meanwhile, we go hungry for answers, options, and hope.
October 29, 2010
Illinois schools employ smoke and mirrors
How many years? HOW MANY DAMN YEARS? How many years will pass before so-called professional educators in positions of real authority (not classroom teachers who have had to relinquish nearly all their authority) give up on the profoundly ignorant idea that standardized tests are reliable indicators of educational progress?
The latest in a long, long line of standardized testing horror stories comes from the great state of Illinois. While smoke and mirrors play a big role in Illinois politics -- after all, our national education secretary was Chicago's public schools superintendent before he got his cushy job in D.C. -- they're also heavily employed when it comes to convincing parents that their children are doing well in school.
What does "meets the standards" mean to you? Doesn't this phrase imply that whatever has been done meets a standard that is desirable in some way? After all, who would want someone to meet a standard that was not worth meeting in the first place?
Apparently, education officials in Chicago.
The Chicago Tribune reports that students who "meet the standards" on state standardized tests of reading and math are still so poorly equipped that most will not score high enough to get into college. An expert on testing is quoted as saying Chicago schools in general have shifted over the years from a focus on excellence to one of mediocrity.
This same expert also acknowledges that this has been going on for some time. (Pity no one in the Obama administration thought to quiz Arne Duncan about this since these testing boondoggles happened at least partly on his watch.)
Furthermore, the expert adds, most parents would not want their children to"meet the standards," despite the positive status such an accomplishment implies because it's akin to pretty much failing.
Did you know that in order to pass the math portion of the Illinois State Achievement Test you have to get only 39 percent of the answers right?
Maybe it's a Northern thing, but where I come from in Texas 39 percent would be a failing grade if 100 is a perfect score. A big, fat failing grade.
Even more laughable is the fact that Illinois has been reducing the number of correct answers needed to pass the ISAT exam even at a minimum.
No wonder meeting the minimum standard there is really more like failing to meet the minimum standard.
Schools also like to manipulate their data. They make it harder for parents to decide how the majority of kids are doing by lumping together the number of kids exceeding with those merely meeting standards so it all looks better than it really is.
Parents have no way to know whether students at a given school are doing very well or merely getting by.
If this is what Illinois calls education, it's a sin, a shame, and a big freakin' scam.
Never mind the thousands of children whose lives are entrusted to the schools only to have their time wasted and their potential destroyed.
That's just a tragedy.
The latest in a long, long line of standardized testing horror stories comes from the great state of Illinois. While smoke and mirrors play a big role in Illinois politics -- after all, our national education secretary was Chicago's public schools superintendent before he got his cushy job in D.C. -- they're also heavily employed when it comes to convincing parents that their children are doing well in school.
What does "meets the standards" mean to you? Doesn't this phrase imply that whatever has been done meets a standard that is desirable in some way? After all, who would want someone to meet a standard that was not worth meeting in the first place?
Apparently, education officials in Chicago.
The Chicago Tribune reports that students who "meet the standards" on state standardized tests of reading and math are still so poorly equipped that most will not score high enough to get into college. An expert on testing is quoted as saying Chicago schools in general have shifted over the years from a focus on excellence to one of mediocrity.
This same expert also acknowledges that this has been going on for some time. (Pity no one in the Obama administration thought to quiz Arne Duncan about this since these testing boondoggles happened at least partly on his watch.)
Furthermore, the expert adds, most parents would not want their children to"meet the standards," despite the positive status such an accomplishment implies because it's akin to pretty much failing.
Did you know that in order to pass the math portion of the Illinois State Achievement Test you have to get only 39 percent of the answers right?
Maybe it's a Northern thing, but where I come from in Texas 39 percent would be a failing grade if 100 is a perfect score. A big, fat failing grade.
Even more laughable is the fact that Illinois has been reducing the number of correct answers needed to pass the ISAT exam even at a minimum.
No wonder meeting the minimum standard there is really more like failing to meet the minimum standard.
Schools also like to manipulate their data. They make it harder for parents to decide how the majority of kids are doing by lumping together the number of kids exceeding with those merely meeting standards so it all looks better than it really is.
Parents have no way to know whether students at a given school are doing very well or merely getting by.
If this is what Illinois calls education, it's a sin, a shame, and a big freakin' scam.
Never mind the thousands of children whose lives are entrusted to the schools only to have their time wasted and their potential destroyed.
That's just a tragedy.
October 26, 2010
Waiting for beauty to come from the ashes
It's been a long week over in the neighborhood where I grew up and where my parents lived for most of my life. A childhood friend called me on my birthday Saturday to deliver devastating news. He knows I don't have a television and figured I hadn't been online that morning to read the local newspaper headlines, either.
After informing me that I'd lived a whopping 16, 425 days -- not including leap years -- he said he had some bad news.
"You mean the fact that I've lived 16 thousand some-odd days isn't the bad news?" I asked, jokingly.
The silence on the other end of the line shut me up before I could say anything else.
"The LaCroixs' house exploded last night," he said.
Betty and Collins LaCroix had lived in our old neighborhood since before I was born. I grew up knowing their youngest daughter and they never failed to buy Girl Scout cookies from me all the years I was a Brownie and then a Junior Girl Scout. They were nice people, pleasant, tidy. They had five children and many years later they lost a young grandson in a handgun tragedy.
These past several years, the now-elderly couple had been watched over faithfully by the folks I like to call my second family -- a couple whose last name is the same as my maiden name and whose children and I grew up together. They still call me their "middle child" because I was always down at their house to play, eat, sleep over, and even travel with them. Their four kids were the brothers and sisters I never had, and I still love and keep up with them all. My childhood memories of time spent with Jim and Sandra Evans are some of my sweetest, so it was with dread that I asked my friend if his own parents were okay.
He said they were, but their house sustained pretty severe damage from the blast next door. One of his sisters, who lives on the other side of the exploded house with her husband and two children, also had damage to her house but it is not nearly as bad.
The worst part, he said, was that Mrs. LaCroix was killed in the fire. Her husband was taken to the hospital with burns over much of his body. No one yet knows the cause of the explosion.
I talked with both of my friend's sisters over the next 48 hours, trying to understand what had happened, trying to make sense of such a sudden and tragic loss, and pondering the mystery of why my second family was spared.
Arms of fire reached in to Jim and Sandra's house, but were sucked back out again. Sandra was sitting on her living room sofa when she heard the explosion and looked up to see fire coming towards her. She says it sounded like the end of the world.
In hindsight, I think the end of the world -- at least a big part of my world -- would have come if Jim and Sandra Evans and their daughter and her family had also been taken out by the blast. Firefighters say it's a wonder they all survived.
It will take several months for Jim and Sandra's home to be restored to a livable condition. I have no way to know how long it will take their hearts to heal. They have stared down their own mortality and, in the process, they have lost a friend.
Meanwhile, if you read this, say a brief prayer of peace for the family of Betty and Collins LaCroix. Trust me when I say they are well-deserving of your time.
To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory. (Isaiah 61:3, NLT)
After informing me that I'd lived a whopping 16, 425 days -- not including leap years -- he said he had some bad news.
"You mean the fact that I've lived 16 thousand some-odd days isn't the bad news?" I asked, jokingly.
The silence on the other end of the line shut me up before I could say anything else.
"The LaCroixs' house exploded last night," he said.
Betty and Collins LaCroix had lived in our old neighborhood since before I was born. I grew up knowing their youngest daughter and they never failed to buy Girl Scout cookies from me all the years I was a Brownie and then a Junior Girl Scout. They were nice people, pleasant, tidy. They had five children and many years later they lost a young grandson in a handgun tragedy.
These past several years, the now-elderly couple had been watched over faithfully by the folks I like to call my second family -- a couple whose last name is the same as my maiden name and whose children and I grew up together. They still call me their "middle child" because I was always down at their house to play, eat, sleep over, and even travel with them. Their four kids were the brothers and sisters I never had, and I still love and keep up with them all. My childhood memories of time spent with Jim and Sandra Evans are some of my sweetest, so it was with dread that I asked my friend if his own parents were okay.
He said they were, but their house sustained pretty severe damage from the blast next door. One of his sisters, who lives on the other side of the exploded house with her husband and two children, also had damage to her house but it is not nearly as bad.
The worst part, he said, was that Mrs. LaCroix was killed in the fire. Her husband was taken to the hospital with burns over much of his body. No one yet knows the cause of the explosion.
I talked with both of my friend's sisters over the next 48 hours, trying to understand what had happened, trying to make sense of such a sudden and tragic loss, and pondering the mystery of why my second family was spared.
Arms of fire reached in to Jim and Sandra's house, but were sucked back out again. Sandra was sitting on her living room sofa when she heard the explosion and looked up to see fire coming towards her. She says it sounded like the end of the world.
In hindsight, I think the end of the world -- at least a big part of my world -- would have come if Jim and Sandra Evans and their daughter and her family had also been taken out by the blast. Firefighters say it's a wonder they all survived.
It will take several months for Jim and Sandra's home to be restored to a livable condition. I have no way to know how long it will take their hearts to heal. They have stared down their own mortality and, in the process, they have lost a friend.
Meanwhile, if you read this, say a brief prayer of peace for the family of Betty and Collins LaCroix. Trust me when I say they are well-deserving of your time.
To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory. (Isaiah 61:3, NLT)
He may get my vote after all
Below is the actual text of an email I received tonight from a candidate running for a position on my local school board. As I've said before, even though we homeschool we also pay public school district taxes. Because of this, we have a vested interest in how those monies are used.
I wrote to the candidate to find out his position on academics. His website featured some fairly solid sounding proposals to reduce or eliminate fiscal folly in the district, but he said nothing about his views on things like teaching to the test, kids who don't get to use math textbooks in the early elementary grades (they get worksheets instead), or the ghastly amount of money spent per student in grades K-12 only to have a significant percentage of those students graduate and still require remedial help before actually starting their college careers.
I asked him about all these things in detail, probably the longest email he's received the whole time he's been campaigning, and I actually got a reply. Here is what he said:
I wrote back to thank him for actually taking time to respond to my email. I also told him that if he can summon the courage to ask the hard questions that really need asking, he may find himself on the school board for many years to come. We need local education leaders with spines, not the blah, blah back-slapping 'bots I've had the extreme misfortune to observe in years past. When I worked as a newspaper reporter and routinely covered local school board news in another community, I was always pissed at how those meetings ran so late into the night and wasted my time in the process. Little of anything substantial was ever discussed. It was the equivalent of fiddling while Rome burned.
I've never attended a school board meeting in the community in which I now live. Between raising four children and homeschooling two of them full-time, I've sorta had my own school district gig going for the past five years. Maybe I should branch out, though, and go see what my district officials are or are not discussing, eh?
At any rate, like I told the above referenced candidate, until my local elementary schools quit using worksheets instead of real books and threads (yes, you read that right) instead of real or plastic coins to teach money counting, I'm going to continue to assert that public education has fallen far and fast from its original purpose. Until the schools in my community restore art and music as "real" subjects rather than give them cursory treatment on a bi- or tri-weekly basis, I'm going to keep bitching about the lack of a well-rounded education being delivered up at my expense.
I wish the candidate well and, based on his willingness to admit the truth about what goes on in my local schools, I will probably vote for him.
And then, I'm going to watch him like a hawk to see if he'll be among the few who actually put their money where their mouths are.
I wrote to the candidate to find out his position on academics. His website featured some fairly solid sounding proposals to reduce or eliminate fiscal folly in the district, but he said nothing about his views on things like teaching to the test, kids who don't get to use math textbooks in the early elementary grades (they get worksheets instead), or the ghastly amount of money spent per student in grades K-12 only to have a significant percentage of those students graduate and still require remedial help before actually starting their college careers.
I asked him about all these things in detail, probably the longest email he's received the whole time he's been campaigning, and I actually got a reply. Here is what he said:
Marjorie,
Thanks for the email. You covered a lot. Let me try to wrap it up by saying we as parents have experience several of the things you described. Worksheets that have no books for parents to help or follow along. As a business owner, employing mostly young men we have seen time and again that they have a diploma but cannot read. We have one young man right now in his mid 20's that we cannot send to a technical school for doing suspension work and alignments because he cannot read well enough to get it done. He graduated from Langham Creek High School.
Thanks for the email. You covered a lot. Let me try to wrap it up by saying we as parents have experience several of the things you described. Worksheets that have no books for parents to help or follow along. As a business owner, employing mostly young men we have seen time and again that they have a diploma but cannot read. We have one young man right now in his mid 20's that we cannot send to a technical school for doing suspension work and alignments because he cannot read well enough to get it done. He graduated from Langham Creek High School.
I support basic education methods. Traditional methods more than a lot of what is going on today. We have met many teachers that spend more time than appropriate accomplishing bureaucratic paperwork rather than taking care of business. These issues are important to me. I will do my best to address these issues.
I wrote back to thank him for actually taking time to respond to my email. I also told him that if he can summon the courage to ask the hard questions that really need asking, he may find himself on the school board for many years to come. We need local education leaders with spines, not the blah, blah back-slapping 'bots I've had the extreme misfortune to observe in years past. When I worked as a newspaper reporter and routinely covered local school board news in another community, I was always pissed at how those meetings ran so late into the night and wasted my time in the process. Little of anything substantial was ever discussed. It was the equivalent of fiddling while Rome burned.
I've never attended a school board meeting in the community in which I now live. Between raising four children and homeschooling two of them full-time, I've sorta had my own school district gig going for the past five years. Maybe I should branch out, though, and go see what my district officials are or are not discussing, eh?
At any rate, like I told the above referenced candidate, until my local elementary schools quit using worksheets instead of real books and threads (yes, you read that right) instead of real or plastic coins to teach money counting, I'm going to continue to assert that public education has fallen far and fast from its original purpose. Until the schools in my community restore art and music as "real" subjects rather than give them cursory treatment on a bi- or tri-weekly basis, I'm going to keep bitching about the lack of a well-rounded education being delivered up at my expense.
I wish the candidate well and, based on his willingness to admit the truth about what goes on in my local schools, I will probably vote for him.
And then, I'm going to watch him like a hawk to see if he'll be among the few who actually put their money where their mouths are.
October 19, 2010
Not "real" Christians?
I was going to take a nap this afternoon following a long morning of homeschooling my children in everything from geometry to the history of Islam. My mind was tired but I logged in to check emails, expecting a message about a church function I'm supposed to attend.
While online, I clicked on a news site to see the day's headlines.
Somewhere between the incessantly whiny politicians and another terrorist attack not perpetuated by Buddhists, Amish, or Pentecostals, a headline out of North Carolina caught my eye:
"No Scout leadership post in NC for Mormon parents"
I knew before I even clicked in to read the story what I was going to find, but being especially curious about religious persecution in this country -- because, to my dismay, it is still much alive and unbelievably rampant -- I wanted the details.
Here they are:
A Presbyterian church in North Carolina welcomed a family and their two young sons into its chartered Boy Scout program and even accepted the parents' offer to become troop leaders. The father is an Eagle Scout himself. Then church officials reviewed Jeremy and Jodi Stokes' applications and discovered much to their horror that the Stokeses belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
Yes, they are Mormons.
The Stokeses were told their boys ages 6 and 8 could stay in the program but that Jeremy and Jodi would not be allowed to lead because, in the words of church officials, they were not "real Christians." The Presbyterian church in question is aligned with the evangelical Christian movement, an arm of the Christian church that spends far too much time trying to pluck motes out of other believers' eyes instead of first pulling the planks out of its own.
The Stokeses found out about the Boy Scout program at Christ Covenant Church from families in their homeschool association. Now they wonder whether those same families will want to be around them, what with not being Real Christians and all.
Bubonic plague? Sure, no problem. Influenza virus? Yep, we can handle you. Non-mainstream Christianity? Hell no! Everybody run! Run for your lives! These people aren't Real Christians and they may be dangerous!
"We had bought the uniforms, we had gone to two meetings, they had played with the other kids," Jodi Stokes said. "And then my sons are saying, 'Mommy, why can't we go back there?'"
Well, Johnny and Jimmy, it's because we aren't Real Christians, we're Fake Christians, and those nice folks are afraid we're going to turn them into Fake Christians, too. They don't want to catch our beliefs from us. You understand, right?"
As a Christian myself -- and a member of a non-mainstream Protestant Christian denomination considered by some to be a cult, by others to be downright false -- I'm always amused (okay, really annoyed) by Protestant Christians who freak out in the presence of Catholics, Mormons, Mennonites, Christian Scientists, Seventh Day Adventists or any other Christian denomination that doesn't fit the tight, rigid conditions of Christianity as set forth by modern believers post-Reformation.
Let's start with Catholics, because everyone knows how much fun it is to pick on them.
Real Christians say Catholics are Fake Christians because they interpret passages of Scripture differently and because they acknowledge the human authority of a pope. They have various ceremonies and rituals and some extra books in their Bible that Protestants don't have. The fact that God and Jesus and the Bible in whatever its form are the centerpiece of the Catholic faith just doesn't matter. Hospitals, soup kitchens, schools for the poor? Nope. Off with their heads!
Now for the Mormons:
Real Christians say Mormons are Fake Christians because they, too, interpret some passages of Scripture differently and because they acknowledge Joseph Smith as a prophet. They have various ceremonies and rituals and the Book of Mormon in addition to the Protestant version of the Bible. The fact that God and Jesus and the Bible form the centerpiece of the Mormon faith just doesn't matter. Strong support for scouting programs, patriotism, and families? Off with their heads!
On to the Christian Scientists (of which I am one):
Real Christians say Christian Scientists are Fake Christians because they, too, interpret some passages of Scripture differently and because they acknowledge that the founder of their church, Mary Baker Eddy, had a revelation as to how people could be healed using nothing but the ideas found in the Bible, in particular the teachings and works of Jesus. (I know, it's shocking to think anyone would actually take Jesus seriously when he said, "These works that I do ye shall do also.") Christian Scientists have no ceremonies or rituals other than weekly church services open to the public, no ordained ministers (lay members of the church read the services), but they do have a book that explains their denominational teachings and they read that book alongside their Bible. The fact that God and Jesus and the Bible are the sole foundation of the Christian Science faith just doesn't matter. Audacity to say that prayer can heal? Off with their (our? my?) heads!
The North Carolina Presbyterians remind me of the mother of the first boyfriend I ever had. His father was an ordained Baptist minister and when his mother found out I was a Christian Scientist (3rd generation, no less), she began to worry. The boy was 20 and I was all of 17 and still in high school. The mother fretted that we were going to run off and get married and that her son would be lawfully wedded to a Fake Christian and might even end up with half-breed children.
This was my introduction to modern-day religious bigotry and I was caught unprepared. Naively, I assumed that if I lived my life according to Christian teaching -- the whole Ten Commandments/Sermon on the Mount/Golden Rule/Jesus as my only ticket to salvation and eternal life thing -- then I was doing all I needed to do to be acceptable not only in the eyes of God but fellow Christians as well.
Instead, I began to understand that it's not what we do or how we live that matters to many fellow Christians. It's all about the brand name we slap on ourselves. Some Christian denominations are more fashionable than others. Some are the Coco Chanels of the Christian world and some are the no-name brands you buy at Walmart.
It bothered me a lot way back then. Now, I couldn't care less. As I got older and had opportunities to prove my faith not only for myself but in the care and company of others, I stopped worrying about what I was. I only hope the little Stokes boys will someday be able to do the same.
Meanwhile, the hard lesson to learn is this:
Like my old boyfriend's family, the folks at the North Carolina church have been given the special secret code that allows them to tap into Real Christianity, leaving the rest of us sinners, heretics, apostates, and downright blasphemers to grovel in the dust, begging for the smallest crumb of forgiveness.
We will never be accepted or acceptable in the eyes of certain fellow Christians and we will never be welcomed in their circles or at their tables. We will never be trusted and we will never be understood because they don't want to learn enough about us to do either.
Jesus sat and ate with tax collectors and whores and touched leprous and insane people, but some of our fellow Christians will never want to know us.
Sometimes I think the biggest threats to the survival of the Christian faith are not Islam or secular humanism as many people claim but, rather, Christians themselves.
We have met the enemy, and he is us.
And by the way, I entrusted a Mormon woman with my life and the lives of my last three children. She was my midwife and she prayed with me and talked me through three planned, drug-free home births. She was the first to hold my second daughter and my two sons, and she was the one who saved my youngest son when he was not breathing after delivery. She has always kept up with and cared for our family and we love her as one of our own. I've read a lot about the Mormon church over the years, and I understand that some of their practices and beliefs sound unusual or even absurd. But Mormonism, as I have seen it lived in my experience, exhibits the finest qualities of the Christian spirit. If one of those North Carolina Presbyterians was drowning, and the only person around to save them was a Mormon, betcha the whole Real vs. Fake Christian thing would take a whole different turn.
While online, I clicked on a news site to see the day's headlines.
Somewhere between the incessantly whiny politicians and another terrorist attack not perpetuated by Buddhists, Amish, or Pentecostals, a headline out of North Carolina caught my eye:
"No Scout leadership post in NC for Mormon parents"
I knew before I even clicked in to read the story what I was going to find, but being especially curious about religious persecution in this country -- because, to my dismay, it is still much alive and unbelievably rampant -- I wanted the details.
Here they are:
A Presbyterian church in North Carolina welcomed a family and their two young sons into its chartered Boy Scout program and even accepted the parents' offer to become troop leaders. The father is an Eagle Scout himself. Then church officials reviewed Jeremy and Jodi Stokes' applications and discovered much to their horror that the Stokeses belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
Yes, they are Mormons.
The Stokeses were told their boys ages 6 and 8 could stay in the program but that Jeremy and Jodi would not be allowed to lead because, in the words of church officials, they were not "real Christians." The Presbyterian church in question is aligned with the evangelical Christian movement, an arm of the Christian church that spends far too much time trying to pluck motes out of other believers' eyes instead of first pulling the planks out of its own.
The Stokeses found out about the Boy Scout program at Christ Covenant Church from families in their homeschool association. Now they wonder whether those same families will want to be around them, what with not being Real Christians and all.
Bubonic plague? Sure, no problem. Influenza virus? Yep, we can handle you. Non-mainstream Christianity? Hell no! Everybody run! Run for your lives! These people aren't Real Christians and they may be dangerous!
"We had bought the uniforms, we had gone to two meetings, they had played with the other kids," Jodi Stokes said. "And then my sons are saying, 'Mommy, why can't we go back there?'"
Well, Johnny and Jimmy, it's because we aren't Real Christians, we're Fake Christians, and those nice folks are afraid we're going to turn them into Fake Christians, too. They don't want to catch our beliefs from us. You understand, right?"
As a Christian myself -- and a member of a non-mainstream Protestant Christian denomination considered by some to be a cult, by others to be downright false -- I'm always amused (okay, really annoyed) by Protestant Christians who freak out in the presence of Catholics, Mormons, Mennonites, Christian Scientists, Seventh Day Adventists or any other Christian denomination that doesn't fit the tight, rigid conditions of Christianity as set forth by modern believers post-Reformation.
Let's start with Catholics, because everyone knows how much fun it is to pick on them.
Real Christians say Catholics are Fake Christians because they interpret passages of Scripture differently and because they acknowledge the human authority of a pope. They have various ceremonies and rituals and some extra books in their Bible that Protestants don't have. The fact that God and Jesus and the Bible in whatever its form are the centerpiece of the Catholic faith just doesn't matter. Hospitals, soup kitchens, schools for the poor? Nope. Off with their heads!
Now for the Mormons:
Real Christians say Mormons are Fake Christians because they, too, interpret some passages of Scripture differently and because they acknowledge Joseph Smith as a prophet. They have various ceremonies and rituals and the Book of Mormon in addition to the Protestant version of the Bible. The fact that God and Jesus and the Bible form the centerpiece of the Mormon faith just doesn't matter. Strong support for scouting programs, patriotism, and families? Off with their heads!
On to the Christian Scientists (of which I am one):
Real Christians say Christian Scientists are Fake Christians because they, too, interpret some passages of Scripture differently and because they acknowledge that the founder of their church, Mary Baker Eddy, had a revelation as to how people could be healed using nothing but the ideas found in the Bible, in particular the teachings and works of Jesus. (I know, it's shocking to think anyone would actually take Jesus seriously when he said, "These works that I do ye shall do also.") Christian Scientists have no ceremonies or rituals other than weekly church services open to the public, no ordained ministers (lay members of the church read the services), but they do have a book that explains their denominational teachings and they read that book alongside their Bible. The fact that God and Jesus and the Bible are the sole foundation of the Christian Science faith just doesn't matter. Audacity to say that prayer can heal? Off with their (our? my?) heads!
The North Carolina Presbyterians remind me of the mother of the first boyfriend I ever had. His father was an ordained Baptist minister and when his mother found out I was a Christian Scientist (3rd generation, no less), she began to worry. The boy was 20 and I was all of 17 and still in high school. The mother fretted that we were going to run off and get married and that her son would be lawfully wedded to a Fake Christian and might even end up with half-breed children.
This was my introduction to modern-day religious bigotry and I was caught unprepared. Naively, I assumed that if I lived my life according to Christian teaching -- the whole Ten Commandments/Sermon on the Mount/Golden Rule/Jesus as my only ticket to salvation and eternal life thing -- then I was doing all I needed to do to be acceptable not only in the eyes of God but fellow Christians as well.
Instead, I began to understand that it's not what we do or how we live that matters to many fellow Christians. It's all about the brand name we slap on ourselves. Some Christian denominations are more fashionable than others. Some are the Coco Chanels of the Christian world and some are the no-name brands you buy at Walmart.
It bothered me a lot way back then. Now, I couldn't care less. As I got older and had opportunities to prove my faith not only for myself but in the care and company of others, I stopped worrying about what I was. I only hope the little Stokes boys will someday be able to do the same.
Meanwhile, the hard lesson to learn is this:
Like my old boyfriend's family, the folks at the North Carolina church have been given the special secret code that allows them to tap into Real Christianity, leaving the rest of us sinners, heretics, apostates, and downright blasphemers to grovel in the dust, begging for the smallest crumb of forgiveness.
We will never be accepted or acceptable in the eyes of certain fellow Christians and we will never be welcomed in their circles or at their tables. We will never be trusted and we will never be understood because they don't want to learn enough about us to do either.
Jesus sat and ate with tax collectors and whores and touched leprous and insane people, but some of our fellow Christians will never want to know us.
Sometimes I think the biggest threats to the survival of the Christian faith are not Islam or secular humanism as many people claim but, rather, Christians themselves.
We have met the enemy, and he is us.
And by the way, I entrusted a Mormon woman with my life and the lives of my last three children. She was my midwife and she prayed with me and talked me through three planned, drug-free home births. She was the first to hold my second daughter and my two sons, and she was the one who saved my youngest son when he was not breathing after delivery. She has always kept up with and cared for our family and we love her as one of our own. I've read a lot about the Mormon church over the years, and I understand that some of their practices and beliefs sound unusual or even absurd. But Mormonism, as I have seen it lived in my experience, exhibits the finest qualities of the Christian spirit. If one of those North Carolina Presbyterians was drowning, and the only person around to save them was a Mormon, betcha the whole Real vs. Fake Christian thing would take a whole different turn.
September 29, 2010
One week, two boys, many questions
The next person to champion the value of socialization as it's offered in public school ought to be given copies of two news stories reporting on the bullying deaths of children just days apart.
Right here in my own community, Asher Brown, 13, was found dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head after kids at his school taunted him mercilessly. His parents say he was bullied to death. He was accused of being gay and was taunted for being Buddhist. His parents claim that they repeatedly reported his predicament to school officials, but nothing changed. Other families have come forward alleging the same. Others have said their kids were bullied, too. One family moved its child to another school where things are better.
Asher took his life Sept. 23.
A few days earlier on September 19, another boy of 13 -- also the victim of bullying at school -- committed suicide by hanging himself in his family's backyard. Seth Walsh of Tehachapi, CA was also accused of being gay though news reports do not confirm his sexual orientation.
Two boys, both so young and with so much potential, decided it was better to DIE than to put up with the hell that accompanied their school experiences.
It was better to die than to go back to school.
In my community, the collective finger of blame has been pointed squarely at the school district for not doing enough to stop the bullying and subsequent suicide of Asher Brown.
I'm not sure this is fair.
While it's true that schools assume a "once your child comes through our doors, he's ours" mentality and should be held accountable for student safety, it's also true that schools and teachers can only do so much extra when confronted with the near-impossible primary task of actually teaching anything to hundreds of kids every day.
Our society warehouses hundreds of kids under one roof for hours on end, day after day, and naively expects public school administrators and teachers to be parents, protectors, educators, and social workers. I don't think this is realistic or appropriate.
Instead of blaming the school district or the schools themselves, I blame the parents -- all of them. Who's parenting the kids who are bullying other people's children? Why didn't they teach them compassion? Right from wrong? The age-old moral imperative to help, not destroy, one another? What about the parents of the kids who stood by and witnessed the torment of Asher and Seth but said nothing? What were those kids taught? That as long as you're not the one being targeted, it shouldn't concern you? That it's better to sacrifice someone else than risk becoming a target yourself? And why do parents who know their children are being repeatedly bullied repeatedly insist on returning those kids to school? Why would you knowingly throw your child back into the mouth of the lion? Transfer them! Homeschool them or find someone else who can! Work the graveyard shift at Walmart and apply for scholarships to put them in private school!
A bad public school does not have to be the only option. It doesn't matter that it's free if it's toxic!
My heart breaks for the mothers of Asher Brown and Seth Walsh. They have lost their sons in the prime of their lives and there is no fix for such grief.
I'm still waiting for the revolution, the one in which parents everywhere take back their kids from the state and its many nanny institutions.
Something tells me I'm going to be waiting a long time.
Right here in my own community, Asher Brown, 13, was found dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head after kids at his school taunted him mercilessly. His parents say he was bullied to death. He was accused of being gay and was taunted for being Buddhist. His parents claim that they repeatedly reported his predicament to school officials, but nothing changed. Other families have come forward alleging the same. Others have said their kids were bullied, too. One family moved its child to another school where things are better.
Asher took his life Sept. 23.
A few days earlier on September 19, another boy of 13 -- also the victim of bullying at school -- committed suicide by hanging himself in his family's backyard. Seth Walsh of Tehachapi, CA was also accused of being gay though news reports do not confirm his sexual orientation.
Two boys, both so young and with so much potential, decided it was better to DIE than to put up with the hell that accompanied their school experiences.
It was better to die than to go back to school.
In my community, the collective finger of blame has been pointed squarely at the school district for not doing enough to stop the bullying and subsequent suicide of Asher Brown.
I'm not sure this is fair.
While it's true that schools assume a "once your child comes through our doors, he's ours" mentality and should be held accountable for student safety, it's also true that schools and teachers can only do so much extra when confronted with the near-impossible primary task of actually teaching anything to hundreds of kids every day.
Our society warehouses hundreds of kids under one roof for hours on end, day after day, and naively expects public school administrators and teachers to be parents, protectors, educators, and social workers. I don't think this is realistic or appropriate.
Instead of blaming the school district or the schools themselves, I blame the parents -- all of them. Who's parenting the kids who are bullying other people's children? Why didn't they teach them compassion? Right from wrong? The age-old moral imperative to help, not destroy, one another? What about the parents of the kids who stood by and witnessed the torment of Asher and Seth but said nothing? What were those kids taught? That as long as you're not the one being targeted, it shouldn't concern you? That it's better to sacrifice someone else than risk becoming a target yourself? And why do parents who know their children are being repeatedly bullied repeatedly insist on returning those kids to school? Why would you knowingly throw your child back into the mouth of the lion? Transfer them! Homeschool them or find someone else who can! Work the graveyard shift at Walmart and apply for scholarships to put them in private school!
A bad public school does not have to be the only option. It doesn't matter that it's free if it's toxic!
My heart breaks for the mothers of Asher Brown and Seth Walsh. They have lost their sons in the prime of their lives and there is no fix for such grief.
I'm still waiting for the revolution, the one in which parents everywhere take back their kids from the state and its many nanny institutions.
Something tells me I'm going to be waiting a long time.
September 22, 2010
The hardest thing to teach?
When I first began homeschooling my children, I told myself the biggest hurdles would be teaching them about slavery in America and teaching them about the holocaust of WWII.
All the time I've been weighing my options for broaching these most unpleasant topics -- because, as any of my long-time readers know, I disdain historical revisionism or the selective teaching of only the "good" parts -- I've been unaware of a growing struggle within my own heart and mind.
It has surfaced with the beginning of our new school year and our first forays into the Middle Ages because, as part of their studies, my children will come face to face with the birth and rise of Islam.
Islam. For most of my life it was just a word, a descriptor for an exotic-sounding religion centered in an exotic and far-off part of the world. I knew it existed, just as I knew about Buddhism, animism, and other faith traditions not common to the little slice of south Texas where I grew up, but its existence was nothing that concerned me.
I knew there was a book, the Koran. I knew there was a venerated prophet, Muhammad. I knew there was a city in Saudi Arabia, Mecca.
And those things were all I knew.
See, I went to public school so I never learned about the Crusades or the clashes between Muslims and Jews. My public education did a good job of compartmentalizing those peoples -- Christians in one box, Jews in another, Muslims in yet another, and everyone else lumped together in the "they're small and weird and don't really matter" category.
Life was easy because my thoughts were unencumbered, untroubled by the complicated relationships between groups of people so dedicated to their respective faiths that they warred against each other for control of land they'd all designated as holy.
I never paid attention to the nightly news, nor did I fully understand the analogy between hell freezing over and achieving peace in the Middle East.
In short, my teachers did a damn lousy job of laying out for me the current events of the day -- why WAS it so important for President Carter to meet with Anwar Sadat of Egypt and Israel's Menachim Begin? What were the Camp David Accords and why did they matter?
Fast forward to September 11, 2001. I'm sitting in my living room, two months pregnant, wanting to plan a home birth, and waiting to interview my chosen midwife for the first time. My mother is upstairs with my toddler and calls down to me that an airplane has crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. I'm nonplussed, self-absorbed in my last minute preparations before the midwife arrives. Small planes periodically crash into tall buildings, right? I remark on this to my mother and she replies that this was a passenger jet. My curiosity is piqued, but I'm still focused on my impending visitor. My mother calls down to me again -- this time her voice is tinged with urgency -- to turn on the downstairs television and I do it just in time to see a smoking skyscraper begin to crumble. I begin to read the ticker tape scrolling across the bottom of the TV screen and then I start to shake.
Running upstairs to my mother's room and her much bigger television screen, I ask over and over again, "What is happening? What IS happening? Where is the president? Is this an attack?"
At that point, the media doesn't know where President Bush is and they also don't know how many other planes we can expect to come hurling in like lightning bolts. There is talk of a missing plane. Is it headed for the White House? The Capitol Building? The Washington Monument? Later, of course, we'd learn about the nosedive into the Shanksville, PA field and the bravery of the passengers on that plane.
In the wee hours of that night and the next and the next as I lay awake listening to the radio with its live coverage of rescues and recoveries at Ground Zero, and as I tried to tend to my daughter with one ear while listenening to the talking on the television with the other, I began to learn about Islam and to craft an understanding of it within the context of terror and pain and death.
I kept waiting for American Muslims to take to the streets in loud and forceful denouncement of the 9/11 catastrophe. Where were their voices on talk radio? Why weren't they demanding hours and hours of airtime to distance themselves from the evil that infiltrated our society, lived alongside our citizens, shopped in our stores, ate in our restaurants, drank in our bars (ironic), and attended our schools -- all of it in preparation to attack and kill?
When those voices came few, small, weak and altogether unconvincing, what had begun as a growing uneasiness about Islam grew into a full-blown dislike, and I caught myself by surprise as I struggled to reconcile this anger with what my Christian faith had always taught.
Love thy neighbor as thyself. We are all the children of God.
I don't think I can. I'm not sure this is true.
That's what I told myself back then.
That's what I told myself a couple of months later when I saw a woman shopping at Target dressed in a black burqa from head to toe with only her eyes visible, her children trailing along behind her and her husband leading the parade. Seeing her, seeing that burqa, I felt my face getting hot and my jaw began to clench.
How could I be so angry at a total stranger? How could I be so angry, period?
Nothing has happened in the intervening years to substantially alter my opinion of Islam, although I admit that time has made me more rational when it comes to realizing that just as all Christians shouldn't be painted with the same broad brush, neither should Muslims. There is a difference between regular and radical, but it's hard to remember this sometimes.
I give in to that reality grudgingly, though, and this tells me I'm still conflicted about Islam and its place in my country and in the education of my children.
What to do?
We won't tackle Islam for another couple of weeks, so I have some time to decide whether I want to add books to our home library about the subject or whether I'll just piece together some basic information from internet websites and make handouts for my children's notebooks. They need to know what Islam is, how it was founded, what Muslims believe.
Can I remain neutral as I share this information with them? Should I?
I'll let you know what happens.
All the time I've been weighing my options for broaching these most unpleasant topics -- because, as any of my long-time readers know, I disdain historical revisionism or the selective teaching of only the "good" parts -- I've been unaware of a growing struggle within my own heart and mind.
It has surfaced with the beginning of our new school year and our first forays into the Middle Ages because, as part of their studies, my children will come face to face with the birth and rise of Islam.
Islam. For most of my life it was just a word, a descriptor for an exotic-sounding religion centered in an exotic and far-off part of the world. I knew it existed, just as I knew about Buddhism, animism, and other faith traditions not common to the little slice of south Texas where I grew up, but its existence was nothing that concerned me.
I knew there was a book, the Koran. I knew there was a venerated prophet, Muhammad. I knew there was a city in Saudi Arabia, Mecca.
And those things were all I knew.
See, I went to public school so I never learned about the Crusades or the clashes between Muslims and Jews. My public education did a good job of compartmentalizing those peoples -- Christians in one box, Jews in another, Muslims in yet another, and everyone else lumped together in the "they're small and weird and don't really matter" category.
Life was easy because my thoughts were unencumbered, untroubled by the complicated relationships between groups of people so dedicated to their respective faiths that they warred against each other for control of land they'd all designated as holy.
I never paid attention to the nightly news, nor did I fully understand the analogy between hell freezing over and achieving peace in the Middle East.
In short, my teachers did a damn lousy job of laying out for me the current events of the day -- why WAS it so important for President Carter to meet with Anwar Sadat of Egypt and Israel's Menachim Begin? What were the Camp David Accords and why did they matter?
Fast forward to September 11, 2001. I'm sitting in my living room, two months pregnant, wanting to plan a home birth, and waiting to interview my chosen midwife for the first time. My mother is upstairs with my toddler and calls down to me that an airplane has crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. I'm nonplussed, self-absorbed in my last minute preparations before the midwife arrives. Small planes periodically crash into tall buildings, right? I remark on this to my mother and she replies that this was a passenger jet. My curiosity is piqued, but I'm still focused on my impending visitor. My mother calls down to me again -- this time her voice is tinged with urgency -- to turn on the downstairs television and I do it just in time to see a smoking skyscraper begin to crumble. I begin to read the ticker tape scrolling across the bottom of the TV screen and then I start to shake.
Running upstairs to my mother's room and her much bigger television screen, I ask over and over again, "What is happening? What IS happening? Where is the president? Is this an attack?"
At that point, the media doesn't know where President Bush is and they also don't know how many other planes we can expect to come hurling in like lightning bolts. There is talk of a missing plane. Is it headed for the White House? The Capitol Building? The Washington Monument? Later, of course, we'd learn about the nosedive into the Shanksville, PA field and the bravery of the passengers on that plane.
In the wee hours of that night and the next and the next as I lay awake listening to the radio with its live coverage of rescues and recoveries at Ground Zero, and as I tried to tend to my daughter with one ear while listenening to the talking on the television with the other, I began to learn about Islam and to craft an understanding of it within the context of terror and pain and death.
I kept waiting for American Muslims to take to the streets in loud and forceful denouncement of the 9/11 catastrophe. Where were their voices on talk radio? Why weren't they demanding hours and hours of airtime to distance themselves from the evil that infiltrated our society, lived alongside our citizens, shopped in our stores, ate in our restaurants, drank in our bars (ironic), and attended our schools -- all of it in preparation to attack and kill?
When those voices came few, small, weak and altogether unconvincing, what had begun as a growing uneasiness about Islam grew into a full-blown dislike, and I caught myself by surprise as I struggled to reconcile this anger with what my Christian faith had always taught.
Love thy neighbor as thyself. We are all the children of God.
I don't think I can. I'm not sure this is true.
That's what I told myself back then.
That's what I told myself a couple of months later when I saw a woman shopping at Target dressed in a black burqa from head to toe with only her eyes visible, her children trailing along behind her and her husband leading the parade. Seeing her, seeing that burqa, I felt my face getting hot and my jaw began to clench.
How could I be so angry at a total stranger? How could I be so angry, period?
Nothing has happened in the intervening years to substantially alter my opinion of Islam, although I admit that time has made me more rational when it comes to realizing that just as all Christians shouldn't be painted with the same broad brush, neither should Muslims. There is a difference between regular and radical, but it's hard to remember this sometimes.
I give in to that reality grudgingly, though, and this tells me I'm still conflicted about Islam and its place in my country and in the education of my children.
What to do?
We won't tackle Islam for another couple of weeks, so I have some time to decide whether I want to add books to our home library about the subject or whether I'll just piece together some basic information from internet websites and make handouts for my children's notebooks. They need to know what Islam is, how it was founded, what Muslims believe.
Can I remain neutral as I share this information with them? Should I?
I'll let you know what happens.
September 18, 2010
Stop. The. Madness. Just. Stop.
The news out from the train wreck that far too often passes for public education seems to come in waves, have you noticed?
First, we've got Christian students in Roswell, NM being punished for giving donuts to their teachers that included Bible verses.
Now, we've got a group of Massachusetts middle school kids who took a field trip to a mosque and ended up participating in Muslim prayers to Allah. They were supposed to be learning about the architecture and were going to observe a prayer service.
Instead, the students ended up getting a lecture on the prophet Muhammad and some of the boys participated in a midday prayer.
Bet the parents of any Jewish, Christian, atheist, or other non-Muslim kids loved this.
I know I would have. (Snark)
"You have to believe in Allah, and Allah is the one God," the students were told. A parent on the field trip caught the whole thing on videotape. At no point did any school official intervene in either the lecture or the praying. One has to wonder what would have happened had no parents been on the trip to report the truth.
Girls on the field trip were also told that Islam is pro-women. That's fine if you don't bother to share with them the recent story out of Iran, the one about Shakineh Ashtiani who's been on Iranian death row since 2006. She's the mother of two who's already been flogged and may still be stoned unless human rights activists can convince the Iranian government her sentence is overly harsh. Even if she ends up not being stoned, she'll likely be hanged. See, she's been accused of killing her husband and having an illicit relationship with another man, but neither charge has been proven. She's a woman, so that's all the evidence they need.
But I digress.
The field trip is part of a course in which students will visit a mosque, a synagogue, and meet with representatives of the Hindu religion. In a token gesture of inclusiveness, they'll get to hear a Christian gospel concert. Guess school officials think a few gospel songs will give kids a sufficient understanding of Christianity.
The school has apologized to parents for the mosque mishap, which is good. But what I don't understand is that why, after all the controversy surrounding religion in schools (not to mention the Ground Zero mosque flap), this school decided it could present such a course without getting itself in trouble. Smart much?
Kids in Massachusetts, like kids everywhere being educated on the taxpayer dime, have no business spending precious school hours in a mosque or any other house of worship. If we're going to keep Christmas trees and music and Stars of David and menorahs out of public schools, we need to keep ALL religious experiences out of public schools and all public schools out of religious experiences.
Can I hear everybody say, "Amen"?
First, we've got Christian students in Roswell, NM being punished for giving donuts to their teachers that included Bible verses.
Now, we've got a group of Massachusetts middle school kids who took a field trip to a mosque and ended up participating in Muslim prayers to Allah. They were supposed to be learning about the architecture and were going to observe a prayer service.
Instead, the students ended up getting a lecture on the prophet Muhammad and some of the boys participated in a midday prayer.
Bet the parents of any Jewish, Christian, atheist, or other non-Muslim kids loved this.
I know I would have. (Snark)
"You have to believe in Allah, and Allah is the one God," the students were told. A parent on the field trip caught the whole thing on videotape. At no point did any school official intervene in either the lecture or the praying. One has to wonder what would have happened had no parents been on the trip to report the truth.
Girls on the field trip were also told that Islam is pro-women. That's fine if you don't bother to share with them the recent story out of Iran, the one about Shakineh Ashtiani who's been on Iranian death row since 2006. She's the mother of two who's already been flogged and may still be stoned unless human rights activists can convince the Iranian government her sentence is overly harsh. Even if she ends up not being stoned, she'll likely be hanged. See, she's been accused of killing her husband and having an illicit relationship with another man, but neither charge has been proven. She's a woman, so that's all the evidence they need.
But I digress.
The field trip is part of a course in which students will visit a mosque, a synagogue, and meet with representatives of the Hindu religion. In a token gesture of inclusiveness, they'll get to hear a Christian gospel concert. Guess school officials think a few gospel songs will give kids a sufficient understanding of Christianity.
The school has apologized to parents for the mosque mishap, which is good. But what I don't understand is that why, after all the controversy surrounding religion in schools (not to mention the Ground Zero mosque flap), this school decided it could present such a course without getting itself in trouble. Smart much?
Kids in Massachusetts, like kids everywhere being educated on the taxpayer dime, have no business spending precious school hours in a mosque or any other house of worship. If we're going to keep Christmas trees and music and Stars of David and menorahs out of public schools, we need to keep ALL religious experiences out of public schools and all public schools out of religious experiences.
Can I hear everybody say, "Amen"?
September 17, 2010
Roswell principal nails Christian students for delivering donuts
Christianity -- apparently more vile and obscene than pretty much anything else public schools have to offer -- is once again on the front burner, this time in Roswell, New Mexico.
A school principal has disciplined a group of unabashedly Christian students for daring to drive over into Texas on their own time to buy Krispy Kreme donuts to give to their teachers as a way of saying thanks.
I know, it's horrible. Read on if you can.
The students had the audacity to include little slips of paper with Bible verses on them.
According to Liberty Counsel, a non-profit litigation, education, and public policy group with an interest in protecting religious liberties, some of students drove six hours round-trip to get the donuts, a treat that isn't available in Roswell. The students belong to a group called Relentless in Roswell.
"Since the closest Krispy Kreme shop was in Texas, some of the group drove almost six hours round trip, stayed overnight, got up at 3:00 a.m., filled their car's back seat with fresh doughnuts and got back to school on time to deliver the doughnuts," Liberty Counsel explained.
Shocking.
Their principal's reaction? According to Liberty Counsel, he was quoted as saying, "I don't like Christians. All they do is smile at you and stab you in the back."
Remember, dear readers, this man gets his salary from New Mexico taxpayers. They are trusting him to educate their children.
That's the most shocking of all.
A school principal has disciplined a group of unabashedly Christian students for daring to drive over into Texas on their own time to buy Krispy Kreme donuts to give to their teachers as a way of saying thanks.
I know, it's horrible. Read on if you can.
The students had the audacity to include little slips of paper with Bible verses on them.
According to Liberty Counsel, a non-profit litigation, education, and public policy group with an interest in protecting religious liberties, some of students drove six hours round-trip to get the donuts, a treat that isn't available in Roswell. The students belong to a group called Relentless in Roswell.
"Since the closest Krispy Kreme shop was in Texas, some of the group drove almost six hours round trip, stayed overnight, got up at 3:00 a.m., filled their car's back seat with fresh doughnuts and got back to school on time to deliver the doughnuts," Liberty Counsel explained.
Shocking.
Their principal's reaction? According to Liberty Counsel, he was quoted as saying, "I don't like Christians. All they do is smile at you and stab you in the back."
Remember, dear readers, this man gets his salary from New Mexico taxpayers. They are trusting him to educate their children.
That's the most shocking of all.
September 16, 2010
Mosque, yes. Satirical cartoon? Not so much
It's the height of irony, the news today that a Seattle cartoonist has taken the advice of the FBI and gone underground, moving house and changing her identity all because she took up where Comedy Central left off when it decided to censor an episode of South Park that was supposed to include the character of Muslim prophet Muhammad.
According to Islamic tradition, it is blasphemous to reproduce the likenesses of its prophets.
Bowing to threats, the show's producers decided to cut out the part about Muhammad rather than risk being blown to kingdom come.
As a member of the journalism community, Molly Norris was apparently pretty ticked that any media outlet would censor itself rather than take the heat that often comes with upholding the First Amendment.
Ms. Norris took up the challenge and suggested that May 20, 2010 should be declared "Everybody Draw Muhammad Day." Facebook pages in support of Norris' idea soon popped up like weeds after a warm spring rain, so much so that the Pakistani government temporarily banned the social networking site from being available to its citizens.
In hindsight, Norris said she never officially declared such a day but that her tongue-in-cheek remark went viral and got away from her.
In a digital age where information and images can circle the globe in a matter of minutes, I don't think she should have been that surprised. I also don't think she should have backpedaled and apologized profusely for her so-called transgression, but she did.
The apology wasn't enough, of course, and Ms. Norris' name was added to a hit list at the behest of U.S.-born Yemeni cleric Anwar al-Awlaki.
There are death threats and then there are death threats. What put Ms. Norris' case on the FBI's radar hasn't been publicized, but the bureau advised her the threat was serious enough that she should take extreme measures to protect herself. We can speculate about why they didn't offer to do this for her.
So while a handful of Muslim activists and pansy-assed politicians were shrilly proclaiming the right to build a mosque a stone's throw from Ground Zero, an American citizen and journalist was disconnecting herself from everything that used to be her life -- her name, her home, her friends, her job, her past.
Radical Islam set out to erase Molly Norris, and it succeeded.
Now I'm wondering where our president is. Where is his speech in which he vigorously asserts the rights of American journalists to publish freely their opinions and ideas in the pages of American newspapers? It's not to be found alongside the speech in which he boldly declared the rights of American and foreign-born Muslims to build a mosque near the site where radical Islam slaughtered 2,000 + people one bright blue day in September. I'm guessing it's not a draft on his secretary's computer waiting to be edited, either.
Odds are that such a speech will never be found because it will never be written.
Where is the FBI? The CIA? Isn't there anyone who can protect poor Ms. Norris from Islamic wingnuts both foreign and domestic?
Some are already asking whether there's any difference between asserting the freedom of religion in the mosque case and asserting freedom of speech in the Norris case. After all, if the mosque builders get short shrift, isn't it only fair for Molly Norris to sacrifice something, too?
No one has said the mosque can't or shouldn't be built, just that out of respect for 9/11 victims and survivors it should be located elsewhere. No one has said Muslims can't or shouldn't worship as they see fit. Where's the infringement on the freedom of religion? What's more, if the mosque does end up near Ground Zero then those who oppose its location will have to swallow the bitter pill and go on. The mosque and its legitimate congregants will be constitutionally protected and no one in an official capacity will ever say them nay.
Ms. Norris, on the other hand, was a newspaper cartoonist who made a personal remark that took on a life of its own. In trying to defend Comedy Central, she herself was threatened with violence and has since shut up, too. When fear or intimidation are used to silence someone, this IS an infringement on their freedom of speech. In spite of her mea culpas, though, Ms. Norris doesn't get to go on, not as she was anyway. She has to start over. The Constitution has apparently been suspended and our government is complicit.
See the difference now?
As a former journalist, my heart breaks for Molly Norris. What has happened to her should chill the spirit of every single American. She may be the first journalist to suffer this grotesque fate at the hands of a government that won't protect its citizens and their rights, but something tells me she won't be the last.
RIP Molly Norris.
According to Islamic tradition, it is blasphemous to reproduce the likenesses of its prophets.
Bowing to threats, the show's producers decided to cut out the part about Muhammad rather than risk being blown to kingdom come.
As a member of the journalism community, Molly Norris was apparently pretty ticked that any media outlet would censor itself rather than take the heat that often comes with upholding the First Amendment.
Ms. Norris took up the challenge and suggested that May 20, 2010 should be declared "Everybody Draw Muhammad Day." Facebook pages in support of Norris' idea soon popped up like weeds after a warm spring rain, so much so that the Pakistani government temporarily banned the social networking site from being available to its citizens.
In hindsight, Norris said she never officially declared such a day but that her tongue-in-cheek remark went viral and got away from her.
In a digital age where information and images can circle the globe in a matter of minutes, I don't think she should have been that surprised. I also don't think she should have backpedaled and apologized profusely for her so-called transgression, but she did.
The apology wasn't enough, of course, and Ms. Norris' name was added to a hit list at the behest of U.S.-born Yemeni cleric Anwar al-Awlaki.
There are death threats and then there are death threats. What put Ms. Norris' case on the FBI's radar hasn't been publicized, but the bureau advised her the threat was serious enough that she should take extreme measures to protect herself. We can speculate about why they didn't offer to do this for her.
So while a handful of Muslim activists and pansy-assed politicians were shrilly proclaiming the right to build a mosque a stone's throw from Ground Zero, an American citizen and journalist was disconnecting herself from everything that used to be her life -- her name, her home, her friends, her job, her past.
Radical Islam set out to erase Molly Norris, and it succeeded.
Now I'm wondering where our president is. Where is his speech in which he vigorously asserts the rights of American journalists to publish freely their opinions and ideas in the pages of American newspapers? It's not to be found alongside the speech in which he boldly declared the rights of American and foreign-born Muslims to build a mosque near the site where radical Islam slaughtered 2,000 + people one bright blue day in September. I'm guessing it's not a draft on his secretary's computer waiting to be edited, either.
Odds are that such a speech will never be found because it will never be written.
Where is the FBI? The CIA? Isn't there anyone who can protect poor Ms. Norris from Islamic wingnuts both foreign and domestic?
Some are already asking whether there's any difference between asserting the freedom of religion in the mosque case and asserting freedom of speech in the Norris case. After all, if the mosque builders get short shrift, isn't it only fair for Molly Norris to sacrifice something, too?
No one has said the mosque can't or shouldn't be built, just that out of respect for 9/11 victims and survivors it should be located elsewhere. No one has said Muslims can't or shouldn't worship as they see fit. Where's the infringement on the freedom of religion? What's more, if the mosque does end up near Ground Zero then those who oppose its location will have to swallow the bitter pill and go on. The mosque and its legitimate congregants will be constitutionally protected and no one in an official capacity will ever say them nay.
Ms. Norris, on the other hand, was a newspaper cartoonist who made a personal remark that took on a life of its own. In trying to defend Comedy Central, she herself was threatened with violence and has since shut up, too. When fear or intimidation are used to silence someone, this IS an infringement on their freedom of speech. In spite of her mea culpas, though, Ms. Norris doesn't get to go on, not as she was anyway. She has to start over. The Constitution has apparently been suspended and our government is complicit.
See the difference now?
As a former journalist, my heart breaks for Molly Norris. What has happened to her should chill the spirit of every single American. She may be the first journalist to suffer this grotesque fate at the hands of a government that won't protect its citizens and their rights, but something tells me she won't be the last.
RIP Molly Norris.
September 10, 2010
Burning question on the eve of 9/11
Knowing my strong opinions on the events in the aftermath of 9/11 including the proposed mosque near Ground Zero, several people have asked me what I think about the Florida pastor who's been threatening for the past two weeks to burn copies of the Koran tomorrow.
I understand his anger. I sympathize with his obviously visceral reaction to the possibility of Muslim worshipers observing Islamic traditions near the place where so many innocents died one tragic morning nine years ago. I, too, fight the temptation to brand all Muslims as terrorist wannabes or, at the very least, sympathizers.
But I can't condone or agree with his decision to set another religion's holy book on fire.
True, Muslims have burned the Christian Bible. They've burned the Jewish Tanakh. When they do these things, civilized people revile them and call them hateful. If that Florida preacher burns the Koran, he will be no better.
Book burning is just wrong. It smacks of Stalinist Russia, Hitler's Germany, and Mao's China.
It's what people do when they want to stamp out thoughts and ideas they find too threatening to deal with. It's what the Muslims in some places do out of vitriolic hatred for Christians and Jews. It's what ignorant people of all faiths do when they can't think of anything more intelligent.
If we're going to be so threatened by what the Koran represents, how will we ever summon the courage to go up against the elements of Islam that resulted in that horrific September day?
Burning all the Korans in the world will not make radical Islam go away. If anything, it will throw fuel on a fire that we're neither physically nor spiritually prepared to douse.
The September 11 attacks were a series of coordinated suicide attacks by al-Qaeda upon the United States on September 11, 2001. On that morning, 19 al-Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial passenger jet airliners and intentionally crashed two of the airliners into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, killing everyone on board and many others working in the buildings. Both buildings collapsed within two hours, destroying nearby buildings and damaging others. The hijackers crashed a third airliner into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C. The fourth plane crashed into a field near Shanksville in rural Pennsylvania after some of its passengers and flight crew attempted to retake control of the plane, which the hijackers had redirected toward Washington, D.C. There were no survivors from any of the flights. The death toll of the attacks was 2,996, including the 19 hijackers. The overwhelming majority of casualties were civilians, including nationals of over 70 countries.
I understand his anger. I sympathize with his obviously visceral reaction to the possibility of Muslim worshipers observing Islamic traditions near the place where so many innocents died one tragic morning nine years ago. I, too, fight the temptation to brand all Muslims as terrorist wannabes or, at the very least, sympathizers.
But I can't condone or agree with his decision to set another religion's holy book on fire.
True, Muslims have burned the Christian Bible. They've burned the Jewish Tanakh. When they do these things, civilized people revile them and call them hateful. If that Florida preacher burns the Koran, he will be no better.
Book burning is just wrong. It smacks of Stalinist Russia, Hitler's Germany, and Mao's China.
It's what people do when they want to stamp out thoughts and ideas they find too threatening to deal with. It's what the Muslims in some places do out of vitriolic hatred for Christians and Jews. It's what ignorant people of all faiths do when they can't think of anything more intelligent.
If we're going to be so threatened by what the Koran represents, how will we ever summon the courage to go up against the elements of Islam that resulted in that horrific September day?
Burning all the Korans in the world will not make radical Islam go away. If anything, it will throw fuel on a fire that we're neither physically nor spiritually prepared to douse.
The September 11 attacks were a series of coordinated suicide attacks by al-Qaeda upon the United States on September 11, 2001. On that morning, 19 al-Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial passenger jet airliners and intentionally crashed two of the airliners into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, killing everyone on board and many others working in the buildings. Both buildings collapsed within two hours, destroying nearby buildings and damaging others. The hijackers crashed a third airliner into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C. The fourth plane crashed into a field near Shanksville in rural Pennsylvania after some of its passengers and flight crew attempted to retake control of the plane, which the hijackers had redirected toward Washington, D.C. There were no survivors from any of the flights. The death toll of the attacks was 2,996, including the 19 hijackers. The overwhelming majority of casualties were civilians, including nationals of over 70 countries.
September 2, 2010
Because Stephen Hawking says so?
The noted British scientist Stephen Hawking, arguably the smartest man living today, has left me baffled and not a little peeved.
In advance of his latest book, The Grand Design, Hawking is now quoted by the Associated Press as saying God did not create the universe and that the Big Bang is completely logical as a starting point for everything in existence. A new set of theories makes a creator of the universe redundant, he says:
"Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist," Hawking writes.
Far be it from me, a lowly homeschooling mother of four with a bachelor's degree in, of all things pedestrian, journalism to go up against someone like Mr. Hawking. I'd never want to pick a fight with a mind like that. And, yes, I know that our country's president during his campaign duly noted the pathetic among us who prefer to "cling" to our guns and our religion. Yes, yes, I'm among the pathetic who, while I don't work a firearm, do tend to turn towards a higher power for answers, help, and reassurance. I'm pathetic in this sense and I'm fine with it.
But e'en in my humble circumstances, steeped as I am in my Christian mythology so-called, I do wonder about the aforementioned questions and whether they are answered in his book.
"For prophecy never had its origin in the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit." 2 Peter 2:1
"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world." 1 John 4:1
In advance of his latest book, The Grand Design, Hawking is now quoted by the Associated Press as saying God did not create the universe and that the Big Bang is completely logical as a starting point for everything in existence. A new set of theories makes a creator of the universe redundant, he says:
"Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist," Hawking writes.
"It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the universe going."
So, um, where did the law of gravity come from? And how exactly is it again that something can come out of nothing? How does nothing have enough substance innately to generate something? And how does gravity exclusive of any other contributor or contributing factor take nothing and form it into something? And how is it that mere human theory -- by its very nature apt to change and morph -- can be deemed the final word?Far be it from me, a lowly homeschooling mother of four with a bachelor's degree in, of all things pedestrian, journalism to go up against someone like Mr. Hawking. I'd never want to pick a fight with a mind like that. And, yes, I know that our country's president during his campaign duly noted the pathetic among us who prefer to "cling" to our guns and our religion. Yes, yes, I'm among the pathetic who, while I don't work a firearm, do tend to turn towards a higher power for answers, help, and reassurance. I'm pathetic in this sense and I'm fine with it.
But e'en in my humble circumstances, steeped as I am in my Christian mythology so-called, I do wonder about the aforementioned questions and whether they are answered in his book.
"For prophecy never had its origin in the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit." 2 Peter 2:1
"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world." 1 John 4:1
August 30, 2010
No one ever paid me to go to school
Two news stories just days apart -- from Houston and St. Louis -- are morbidly interesting and hugely disturbing.
Private foundations in both cities are planning to pay out enormous amounts of money to families whose children attend underperforming schools in an effort to get those kids to make better grades and show up for class.
The Houston ISD is going to pay families in 25 schools up to $1020 for their children to master 200 math concepts and pass 5-question tests with at least 4 correct answers. The parents have to attend nine parent-teacher meetings throughout the year. Some of the meetings will focus on financial management, surely a primary purpose of our public school system. (Snark)
A St. Louis elementary school is also offering its students private foundation money to show up for class -- up to $900 per family. Students must have near-perfect attendance at the end of each semester and parents must attend three PTO meetings.
Is public education in some places so crappy now that the only way to get kids to show up is to bribe them?
Guess so.
Private foundations in both cities are planning to pay out enormous amounts of money to families whose children attend underperforming schools in an effort to get those kids to make better grades and show up for class.
The Houston ISD is going to pay families in 25 schools up to $1020 for their children to master 200 math concepts and pass 5-question tests with at least 4 correct answers. The parents have to attend nine parent-teacher meetings throughout the year. Some of the meetings will focus on financial management, surely a primary purpose of our public school system. (Snark)
A St. Louis elementary school is also offering its students private foundation money to show up for class -- up to $900 per family. Students must have near-perfect attendance at the end of each semester and parents must attend three PTO meetings.
Is public education in some places so crappy now that the only way to get kids to show up is to bribe them?
Guess so.
August 19, 2010
There are not five seasons
Perhaps it is coincidence that each of my four children was born in a different season. Maybe it's some cosmic symbolism I've not yet fully understood.
At any rate, the novelty of this phenomenon is never far from my thought, especially since it means we host a birthday party once every three months. We sometimes joke that the best way to have a convenient excuse for a party is to have many children.
To that end, my husband and I have never predetermined the number of children we wanted. Some have accused us of living dangerously, envisioning us with enough children to rival the now-famous Duggar family of Arkansas with their brood of 19. Some accused us of flat out irresponsibility. After all, don't we know it takes some $5 million per child to raise them to adulthood? (Okay, I exaggerate slightly, but those stupid statistics based on crap and nonsense annoy me. I think the latest figure is about $220, 000 -- still overblown, in my opinion.) Others like to remind us that, "this isn't like the old days when they needed a lot of kids to help around on the farm," as if the only thing children are good for is unpaid labor.
Still others just shake their heads as if to say, "Whatever."
It's hard to explain in five sentences or less -- about the amount of time you usually have to hold someone's attention when you're trying to articulate your pro-child perspective -- why we love our children in such a way that we don't have an interest in prohibiting the arrival of more.
I guess the best description of our mindset comes from a book by married couple Rick and Jan Hess. Titled "Quiverfull," the book draws on the Bible verse in which a man is judged blessed not by how much money he has but by how many "arrows" or children he has in his quiver.
In short, our children don't deplete our wealth, they ARE our wealth.
At times I struggle between feelings of greed for wanting more wealth and feelings of contentment with what I've already been given.
The only thing that keeps me from feeling deprived in those moments of greed is the fact that there are not five seasons, only four, and God has graciously given them to me one by one so that every year brings a time to rest (winter), a time for renewal (spring), a time to play (summer) and a time to prepare (autumn).
To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.
At any rate, the novelty of this phenomenon is never far from my thought, especially since it means we host a birthday party once every three months. We sometimes joke that the best way to have a convenient excuse for a party is to have many children.
To that end, my husband and I have never predetermined the number of children we wanted. Some have accused us of living dangerously, envisioning us with enough children to rival the now-famous Duggar family of Arkansas with their brood of 19. Some accused us of flat out irresponsibility. After all, don't we know it takes some $5 million per child to raise them to adulthood? (Okay, I exaggerate slightly, but those stupid statistics based on crap and nonsense annoy me. I think the latest figure is about $220, 000 -- still overblown, in my opinion.) Others like to remind us that, "this isn't like the old days when they needed a lot of kids to help around on the farm," as if the only thing children are good for is unpaid labor.
Still others just shake their heads as if to say, "Whatever."
It's hard to explain in five sentences or less -- about the amount of time you usually have to hold someone's attention when you're trying to articulate your pro-child perspective -- why we love our children in such a way that we don't have an interest in prohibiting the arrival of more.
I guess the best description of our mindset comes from a book by married couple Rick and Jan Hess. Titled "Quiverfull," the book draws on the Bible verse in which a man is judged blessed not by how much money he has but by how many "arrows" or children he has in his quiver.
In short, our children don't deplete our wealth, they ARE our wealth.
At times I struggle between feelings of greed for wanting more wealth and feelings of contentment with what I've already been given.
The only thing that keeps me from feeling deprived in those moments of greed is the fact that there are not five seasons, only four, and God has graciously given them to me one by one so that every year brings a time to rest (winter), a time for renewal (spring), a time to play (summer) and a time to prepare (autumn).
To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.
August 13, 2010
Our president gives us the finger
Yep, that's how I feel right now. Like our president, the guy who is supposed to be representative of all Americans -- or at least receptive to the collective opinion of the majority of us -- has just flipped us the Big Fat Finger of F*ck You.
I'm referring, of course, to his bold remarks at a dinner tonight marking the Muslim holiday of Ramadan in which he expressed his unequivocal support for the building of a mosque near Ground Zero.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I clearly remember where I was and what I was doing the morning the Twin Towers came tumbling down and the feeling of sheer terror that swept over me as I realized what was happening.
I also remember seeing in real-time the footage from 9/11 they never show anymore, the falling bodies of people so panicked that they preferred to jump from tens of stories high rather than be burned alive. Yeah, the news networks quit showing THOSE clips because, well, because I guess they thought it would upset us or something.
Right.
See, that's how history gets re-written even as you're staring it in the face. It starts with selective editing of camera footage and ends with the President of the United States of America spouting lofty crap about how freedom to worship belongs to everyone.
No mention, of course, about how fuselage from the jet planes dropped onto the site where the new mosque will be built. No mention, of course, of the overwhelming majority of Americans who, like me, heartily support the freedom of worship but also long for common sense to prevail.
The arrogance cloaked in "who me?" type remarks by mosque supporters is all the more infuriating. They know full well what they're doing and they know why. It's akin to what would have happened if Christians had opted to build churches on the grounds of Auschwitz or Bergen Belsen. It's hard to say, "Oh, but we're not trying to offend anyone," when you know damn well that's exactly what you're doing.
Sadly, the arrogance of our president in this matter doesn't really surprise me. He's already blown off the families of soldiers at Arlington on Memorial Day in favor of a half-ass visit to a Chicago area veteran's cemetery that was rained out and resulted in a hasty wreath laying, paid for his wife and daughter to cavort about Spain when plenty of beautiful tourist destinations in his own country are crying for tourist dollars in a sagging economy, shunned the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America and a traditional personal appearance at their jamboree in favor of 15 minutes of horseshit with the ladies of The View, and bowed and apologized his way across the Middle East in an effort to show the world how awful and sorry and contrite we are for all the horrible things we've done. Then there's his tacit approval of the government's lawsuit against Arizona for daring to enforce the federal immigration law because the feds won't do it.
Who is this man and why does he seem hellbent on destroying the dignity of our country?
Right after 9/11, a fairly obscure country western singer named Darryl Worley got his 15 minutes of fame when he penned a poignant song and sang it on TV. I cried the first time I heard it, and I cry when I hear it now. You won't find it played on radio stations anymore -- 9/11 was a long time ago and apparently we're supposed to forget it and get over it -- but I put it on my iPod and included the lyrics in the journals I write for all four of my children. One of them was a baby on that fateful day, the other three were not yet born, but I wrote down my recollections so that in spite of whatever revisionist history they someday encounter they will have a first-person account from someone they know they can trust to tell them the truth.
I encourage all parents to do the same.
In closing, I leave you with the words of Darryl Worley's song, "Have You Forgotten?"
Oh, and I dedicate this to President Obama.
I hear people saying we don't need this war
But, I say there's some things worth fighting for
What about our freedom and this piece of ground
We didn't get to keep 'em by backing down
They say we don't realize the mess we're getting in
Before you start your preaching let me ask you this my friend
Have you forgotten how it felt that day?
To see your homeland under fire
And her people blown away
Have you forgotten when those towers fell?
We had neighbors still inside going thru a living hell
And you say we shouldn't worry 'bout bin Laden
Have you forgotten?
They took all the footage off my T.V.
Said it's too disturbing for you and me
It'll just breed anger that's what the experts say
If it was up to me I'd show it everyday
Some say this country's just out looking for a fight
Well, after 9/11 man I'd have to say that's right
Have you forgotten how it felt that day?
To see your homeland under fire
And her people blown away
Have you forgotten when those towers fell?
We had neighbors still inside going thru a living hell
And we vowed to get the one’s behind bin Laden
Have you forgotten?
I've been there with the soldiers
Who've gone away to war
And you can bet that they remember
Just what they're fighting for
Have you forgotten all the people killed?
Yeah, some went down like heroes in that Pennsylvania field
Have you forgotten about our Pentagon?
All the loved ones that we lost and those left to carry on
Don't you tell me not to worry about bin Laden
Have you forgotten?
Have you forgotten?
Have you forgotten?
I'm referring, of course, to his bold remarks at a dinner tonight marking the Muslim holiday of Ramadan in which he expressed his unequivocal support for the building of a mosque near Ground Zero.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I clearly remember where I was and what I was doing the morning the Twin Towers came tumbling down and the feeling of sheer terror that swept over me as I realized what was happening.
I also remember seeing in real-time the footage from 9/11 they never show anymore, the falling bodies of people so panicked that they preferred to jump from tens of stories high rather than be burned alive. Yeah, the news networks quit showing THOSE clips because, well, because I guess they thought it would upset us or something.
Right.
See, that's how history gets re-written even as you're staring it in the face. It starts with selective editing of camera footage and ends with the President of the United States of America spouting lofty crap about how freedom to worship belongs to everyone.
No mention, of course, about how fuselage from the jet planes dropped onto the site where the new mosque will be built. No mention, of course, of the overwhelming majority of Americans who, like me, heartily support the freedom of worship but also long for common sense to prevail.
The arrogance cloaked in "who me?" type remarks by mosque supporters is all the more infuriating. They know full well what they're doing and they know why. It's akin to what would have happened if Christians had opted to build churches on the grounds of Auschwitz or Bergen Belsen. It's hard to say, "Oh, but we're not trying to offend anyone," when you know damn well that's exactly what you're doing.
Sadly, the arrogance of our president in this matter doesn't really surprise me. He's already blown off the families of soldiers at Arlington on Memorial Day in favor of a half-ass visit to a Chicago area veteran's cemetery that was rained out and resulted in a hasty wreath laying, paid for his wife and daughter to cavort about Spain when plenty of beautiful tourist destinations in his own country are crying for tourist dollars in a sagging economy, shunned the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America and a traditional personal appearance at their jamboree in favor of 15 minutes of horseshit with the ladies of The View, and bowed and apologized his way across the Middle East in an effort to show the world how awful and sorry and contrite we are for all the horrible things we've done. Then there's his tacit approval of the government's lawsuit against Arizona for daring to enforce the federal immigration law because the feds won't do it.
Who is this man and why does he seem hellbent on destroying the dignity of our country?
Right after 9/11, a fairly obscure country western singer named Darryl Worley got his 15 minutes of fame when he penned a poignant song and sang it on TV. I cried the first time I heard it, and I cry when I hear it now. You won't find it played on radio stations anymore -- 9/11 was a long time ago and apparently we're supposed to forget it and get over it -- but I put it on my iPod and included the lyrics in the journals I write for all four of my children. One of them was a baby on that fateful day, the other three were not yet born, but I wrote down my recollections so that in spite of whatever revisionist history they someday encounter they will have a first-person account from someone they know they can trust to tell them the truth.
I encourage all parents to do the same.
In closing, I leave you with the words of Darryl Worley's song, "Have You Forgotten?"
Oh, and I dedicate this to President Obama.
I hear people saying we don't need this war
But, I say there's some things worth fighting for
What about our freedom and this piece of ground
We didn't get to keep 'em by backing down
They say we don't realize the mess we're getting in
Before you start your preaching let me ask you this my friend
Have you forgotten how it felt that day?
To see your homeland under fire
And her people blown away
Have you forgotten when those towers fell?
We had neighbors still inside going thru a living hell
And you say we shouldn't worry 'bout bin Laden
Have you forgotten?
They took all the footage off my T.V.
Said it's too disturbing for you and me
It'll just breed anger that's what the experts say
If it was up to me I'd show it everyday
Some say this country's just out looking for a fight
Well, after 9/11 man I'd have to say that's right
Have you forgotten how it felt that day?
To see your homeland under fire
And her people blown away
Have you forgotten when those towers fell?
We had neighbors still inside going thru a living hell
And we vowed to get the one’s behind bin Laden
Have you forgotten?
I've been there with the soldiers
Who've gone away to war
And you can bet that they remember
Just what they're fighting for
Have you forgotten all the people killed?
Yeah, some went down like heroes in that Pennsylvania field
Have you forgotten about our Pentagon?
All the loved ones that we lost and those left to carry on
Don't you tell me not to worry about bin Laden
Have you forgotten?
Have you forgotten?
Have you forgotten?
August 4, 2010
I'm a Hater -- or so they say
It's hard to face the music, but if I'm to maintain even a shred of intellectual honesty I have to confront the fact that I am a hater.
I'm not sure what to do about this. I mean, I could spend a lot of money to go for counseling. I could apply to some sort of "de-programming" facility where they'd rid me of my inappropriate thoughts and make me acceptable to society again.
Or I could do what a lot of my fellow Americans have done and just take my opinions underground for fear of being hassled, vandalized or killed.
See, I don't believe ILLEGAL immigrants ought to be given help to get a college education in Texas. I think the state of Arizona was right to pass the law it did and I think the federal government is wrong for trying to make them rescind it. I had a guy from some group called Immigration Reform call me up this morning while I was homeschooling my son to ask me to send a letter of support to our Texas senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson. The guy on the phone wanted me, in essence, to urge our senator to support a proposed act called The Dream Act. This act would let students here in the country ILLEGALLY stay for 6 years with temporary resident status and then apply for permanent residency upon completion of ONE of several conditions during that six years: During the first six years, the ILLEGAL immigrant would be granted "conditional" status, and would be required to graduate from a two-year community college or complete at least two years towards a 4-year degree, or serve two years in the U.S. military. After the six year period, an ILLEGAL immigrant who met at least one of these three conditions would be eligible to apply for legal permanent resident status. During this six year conditional period, ILLEGAL immigrants would not be eligible for federal higher education grants but they would be able to apply for student loans and work study.
Uh, that sounds like some sort of reward for being in the U.S. ILLEGALLY, doesn't it? When I told the guy on the phone I didn't support anything that rewarded people for breaking our immigration laws he went off on me. And then he hung up on me!
My Dream Act would include compelling everyone either by deportation or border reinforcement to OBEY THE LAWS OF THIS COUNTRY JUST LIKE MY LEGAL IMMIGRANT ANCESTORS AND FRIENDS DID. Period.
Yeah, I'm a hater.
And I don't believe that marriage between people of the same sex should really be called marriage. The fact that my religious book says this and that I am of the religion that adheres to that book -- those things alone make me a hater. Now, if I was an atheist then it would all be different because it's okay, even fashionable, to hate Christians.
Adding to my credentials, I also don't think that our president is doing a good job running the country. In fact, I think his decision to rub elbows with the ridiculous airheads on The View television show rather than address in person the crowd at the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America jamboree shows just how arrogant he is. I think his choice of various cabinet members including a tax evader as treasury secretary and a snarky chief of staff as well as his willingness to sit through 20 years worth of Bill Ayers sermons on hating America and white people puts him in the same category as I am right now. Yep, I think in many ways our own president is a hater.
Join the club, sir. We'll make room for you.
I'm a hater because I homeschool my kids. That means I hate public education. (Actually, I mostly detest the NEA because it's made up of Communists and I detest Communisim.)
I'm a hater because I detest Communism.
I'm a hater because I think the U.S. flag should be displayed in all American schools and children should have to recite their loyalty to this country via the Pledge of Allegiance.
I'm a hater because I don't think building a mosque within 50 miles of Ground Zero is either intelligent or tolerant.
I'm a hater because I don't think anything but English should be taught as a first language to immigrant children attending our schools.
I'm a hater because I actually believe Judeo-Christian values and teachings heavily influenced the founding of this nation.
I'm a hater because I'm still appalled our president went around the world his first year in office bowing and kow-towing to every leader with whom he met.
I'm a hater on so many levels I can't decide whether it's getting harder to live with myself or within this f**ked up mess we call Our Society.
Ooohh. And I guess I'm a hater because I used (or implied) a bad word in reference to Our Society -- the one in which child pornography has only now finally made it to the forefront of the Justice Dept's list of concerns, the one in which our federal government actually fights against anyone trying to uphold federal laws, the one in which Wall Street bailouts line the pockets of a few while more than 40 percent of employed Americans work in low-paying service jobs, the one in which the latest television show or video game generates headlines while our soldiers overseas risk and lose their lives with little more than a mention, the one in which the ACLU can bully for the removal of the Ten Commandments but stays silent at the proliferation of slutty billboards and deviancy training for kids as young as 5.
Yeah, that society.
And I'm a hater because I don't want to live in or raise my children in Our Society. I'm a hater because if I could I'd create a parallel universe in which morals weren't relative, children were safe, animals weren't abused, laws were obeyed, adults behaved with at least a modicum of decency in public, and the government actually protected the people instead of exposing them to crap in the name of "tolerance," "dignity," "diversity" or whatever euphemism for stupidity they concocted.
Wow. That felt good to say.
No doubt this 'blog will eventually be targeted for removal because, as has already happened with another well-known 'blog hosting service, anything perceived as hateful must be removed.
Read it while you can.
And don't feel bad if you need to call me a hater. Hey, sometimes the truth hurts but I'd rather hear the truth and take the pain than live a lie and say it's all good.
I'm not sure what to do about this. I mean, I could spend a lot of money to go for counseling. I could apply to some sort of "de-programming" facility where they'd rid me of my inappropriate thoughts and make me acceptable to society again.
Or I could do what a lot of my fellow Americans have done and just take my opinions underground for fear of being hassled, vandalized or killed.
See, I don't believe ILLEGAL immigrants ought to be given help to get a college education in Texas. I think the state of Arizona was right to pass the law it did and I think the federal government is wrong for trying to make them rescind it. I had a guy from some group called Immigration Reform call me up this morning while I was homeschooling my son to ask me to send a letter of support to our Texas senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson. The guy on the phone wanted me, in essence, to urge our senator to support a proposed act called The Dream Act. This act would let students here in the country ILLEGALLY stay for 6 years with temporary resident status and then apply for permanent residency upon completion of ONE of several conditions during that six years: During the first six years, the ILLEGAL immigrant would be granted "conditional" status, and would be required to graduate from a two-year community college or complete at least two years towards a 4-year degree, or serve two years in the U.S. military. After the six year period, an ILLEGAL immigrant who met at least one of these three conditions would be eligible to apply for legal permanent resident status. During this six year conditional period, ILLEGAL immigrants would not be eligible for federal higher education grants but they would be able to apply for student loans and work study.
Uh, that sounds like some sort of reward for being in the U.S. ILLEGALLY, doesn't it? When I told the guy on the phone I didn't support anything that rewarded people for breaking our immigration laws he went off on me. And then he hung up on me!
My Dream Act would include compelling everyone either by deportation or border reinforcement to OBEY THE LAWS OF THIS COUNTRY JUST LIKE MY LEGAL IMMIGRANT ANCESTORS AND FRIENDS DID. Period.
Yeah, I'm a hater.
And I don't believe that marriage between people of the same sex should really be called marriage. The fact that my religious book says this and that I am of the religion that adheres to that book -- those things alone make me a hater. Now, if I was an atheist then it would all be different because it's okay, even fashionable, to hate Christians.
Adding to my credentials, I also don't think that our president is doing a good job running the country. In fact, I think his decision to rub elbows with the ridiculous airheads on The View television show rather than address in person the crowd at the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America jamboree shows just how arrogant he is. I think his choice of various cabinet members including a tax evader as treasury secretary and a snarky chief of staff as well as his willingness to sit through 20 years worth of Bill Ayers sermons on hating America and white people puts him in the same category as I am right now. Yep, I think in many ways our own president is a hater.
Join the club, sir. We'll make room for you.
I'm a hater because I homeschool my kids. That means I hate public education. (Actually, I mostly detest the NEA because it's made up of Communists and I detest Communisim.)
I'm a hater because I detest Communism.
I'm a hater because I think the U.S. flag should be displayed in all American schools and children should have to recite their loyalty to this country via the Pledge of Allegiance.
I'm a hater because I don't think building a mosque within 50 miles of Ground Zero is either intelligent or tolerant.
I'm a hater because I don't think anything but English should be taught as a first language to immigrant children attending our schools.
I'm a hater because I actually believe Judeo-Christian values and teachings heavily influenced the founding of this nation.
I'm a hater because I'm still appalled our president went around the world his first year in office bowing and kow-towing to every leader with whom he met.
I'm a hater on so many levels I can't decide whether it's getting harder to live with myself or within this f**ked up mess we call Our Society.
Ooohh. And I guess I'm a hater because I used (or implied) a bad word in reference to Our Society -- the one in which child pornography has only now finally made it to the forefront of the Justice Dept's list of concerns, the one in which our federal government actually fights against anyone trying to uphold federal laws, the one in which Wall Street bailouts line the pockets of a few while more than 40 percent of employed Americans work in low-paying service jobs, the one in which the latest television show or video game generates headlines while our soldiers overseas risk and lose their lives with little more than a mention, the one in which the ACLU can bully for the removal of the Ten Commandments but stays silent at the proliferation of slutty billboards and deviancy training for kids as young as 5.
Yeah, that society.
And I'm a hater because I don't want to live in or raise my children in Our Society. I'm a hater because if I could I'd create a parallel universe in which morals weren't relative, children were safe, animals weren't abused, laws were obeyed, adults behaved with at least a modicum of decency in public, and the government actually protected the people instead of exposing them to crap in the name of "tolerance," "dignity," "diversity" or whatever euphemism for stupidity they concocted.
Wow. That felt good to say.
No doubt this 'blog will eventually be targeted for removal because, as has already happened with another well-known 'blog hosting service, anything perceived as hateful must be removed.
Read it while you can.
And don't feel bad if you need to call me a hater. Hey, sometimes the truth hurts but I'd rather hear the truth and take the pain than live a lie and say it's all good.
July 19, 2010
Let's keep parents in the dark even as we insult them
I'm not sure which part of this story is more offensive. On the one hand we've got a black PTA member who's paid by his New York school district to be an advocate for parents allegedly suggesting that meetings be held on Friday nights when parents aren't likely to come.
On the other hand, we've got a black PTA member who's paid by his New York school district to be an advocate for parents allegedly calling those same parents the N word. About 70% of the families in his district are black.
Gosh, where does one begin?
The New York Daily News reports July 19 on Ron Barfield, a parents advocate earning $53,000 a year who was caught on tape during a discussion of when to hold Public School 134's PTA meetings as allegedly saying, "Do it Fridays 'cause n****** don't like to come out on Fridays."
Barfield's job is to assist parents who are having difficulty getting their issues resolved by the school staff.
Racism. It's ugly no matter what color it comes in.
As for public education, caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware.
On the other hand, we've got a black PTA member who's paid by his New York school district to be an advocate for parents allegedly calling those same parents the N word. About 70% of the families in his district are black.
Gosh, where does one begin?
The New York Daily News reports July 19 on Ron Barfield, a parents advocate earning $53,000 a year who was caught on tape during a discussion of when to hold Public School 134's PTA meetings as allegedly saying, "Do it Fridays 'cause n****** don't like to come out on Fridays."
Barfield's job is to assist parents who are having difficulty getting their issues resolved by the school staff.
Racism. It's ugly no matter what color it comes in.
As for public education, caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware.
The pain of 75 sentences
Ah, sentences.
When I was in grade school, one of my teachers' favorite penalties for bad behavior was to assign "sentences" -- you know, where a student goes up to the blackboard and writes 50 or 100 times something like, "I will not throw spit wads at Sally Ann," or somesuch.
Tonight I decided to take a page from my old-school playbook and penalize one of my children in similar fashion.
My daughter, age 8, temporarily lost her senses and tore up a drawing done by her older sister.
Said older sister was pretty peeved and demanded to know how I was going to handle the situation.
I thought for a minute and asked the offending party to bring to me something she'd made. My original plan was to give it to her sister to shred, sort of an eye for an eye resolution.
But when my daughter brought me a little paper cat with stick-on jeweled eyes that she'd made some months ago she was much too cavalier and too happy about it.
It was obvious she wasn't giving up anything of real value and that bothered me.
No penalty is any good if some sort of sacrifice isn't involved. I needed to see remorse, and judging by the look on my daughter's face she wasn't feeling any at all.
I set the paper cat aside and reassured my older daughter that a just verdict would be forthcoming. Our toddler had fallen asleep just as my husband and I were preparing to take the kids out for supper so I opted to stay behind while he and they went on ahead.
My 8-year-old unwisely decided to stay with me and gaily set about gathering colored pencils, paper, and glue to make a new craft.
As I sat down to begin my evening's writing, I had a revelation. If she had the energy to sit down to a craft project, she had the energy to write sentences!
I got up and went to the table where she was just beginning to lay out her latest project and coolly informed her she'd be doing something else instead.
"You're going to write a sentence for me," I said matter of factly. "It's going to say, 'I will not tear up other people's artwork.' And you're going to write it for me 75 times."
Jumping up with a scream like she'd been set on fire, my daughter immediately began to cry and protest. I remained calm and told her that if her antics woke up her little brother she'd have to write the sentence 150 times so she'd best settle down and get busy.
Busywork. That's my daughter's currency. She must be busy, but productively so, at all times and cannot stand to do something repetitive or mundane.
I'm the same way. That's why I get that the sentence-writing penalty is extremely effective.
I used this technique once before when she was about six and had decided to draw a mural on a freshly painted wall using a washable marker that did not wash off. That time I assigned 50 iterations of "I will not write or draw on walls again." It worked and she never wrote or drew on a wall again.
As I sit here writing this 'blog, my precious little girl sits at the table nearby writing sentences. I am very unpopular right now, but that's okay because the last thing I want to do is to raise a child whose respect for other people's things has not been properly cultivated.
I'm banking on the fact that someday she -- and the world -- will thank me just as I now thank the schoolteacher who made ME write sentences the day I purposely stepped on and broke new crayons that belonged to a fellow 4th grader.
When I was in grade school, one of my teachers' favorite penalties for bad behavior was to assign "sentences" -- you know, where a student goes up to the blackboard and writes 50 or 100 times something like, "I will not throw spit wads at Sally Ann," or somesuch.
Tonight I decided to take a page from my old-school playbook and penalize one of my children in similar fashion.
My daughter, age 8, temporarily lost her senses and tore up a drawing done by her older sister.
Said older sister was pretty peeved and demanded to know how I was going to handle the situation.
I thought for a minute and asked the offending party to bring to me something she'd made. My original plan was to give it to her sister to shred, sort of an eye for an eye resolution.
But when my daughter brought me a little paper cat with stick-on jeweled eyes that she'd made some months ago she was much too cavalier and too happy about it.
It was obvious she wasn't giving up anything of real value and that bothered me.
No penalty is any good if some sort of sacrifice isn't involved. I needed to see remorse, and judging by the look on my daughter's face she wasn't feeling any at all.
I set the paper cat aside and reassured my older daughter that a just verdict would be forthcoming. Our toddler had fallen asleep just as my husband and I were preparing to take the kids out for supper so I opted to stay behind while he and they went on ahead.
My 8-year-old unwisely decided to stay with me and gaily set about gathering colored pencils, paper, and glue to make a new craft.
As I sat down to begin my evening's writing, I had a revelation. If she had the energy to sit down to a craft project, she had the energy to write sentences!
I got up and went to the table where she was just beginning to lay out her latest project and coolly informed her she'd be doing something else instead.
"You're going to write a sentence for me," I said matter of factly. "It's going to say, 'I will not tear up other people's artwork.' And you're going to write it for me 75 times."
Jumping up with a scream like she'd been set on fire, my daughter immediately began to cry and protest. I remained calm and told her that if her antics woke up her little brother she'd have to write the sentence 150 times so she'd best settle down and get busy.
Busywork. That's my daughter's currency. She must be busy, but productively so, at all times and cannot stand to do something repetitive or mundane.
I'm the same way. That's why I get that the sentence-writing penalty is extremely effective.
I used this technique once before when she was about six and had decided to draw a mural on a freshly painted wall using a washable marker that did not wash off. That time I assigned 50 iterations of "I will not write or draw on walls again." It worked and she never wrote or drew on a wall again.
As I sit here writing this 'blog, my precious little girl sits at the table nearby writing sentences. I am very unpopular right now, but that's okay because the last thing I want to do is to raise a child whose respect for other people's things has not been properly cultivated.
I'm banking on the fact that someday she -- and the world -- will thank me just as I now thank the schoolteacher who made ME write sentences the day I purposely stepped on and broke new crayons that belonged to a fellow 4th grader.
June 28, 2010
Educational travesty in Texas
Just a couple of weeks after blogging about New York schoolteachers asked to give students partial or passing grades for getting math problems wrong, I am pretty irritated to find that right here in my beloved state of Texas a similar travesty has occurred.
The difference is that a judge has ruled that eleven school districts must stop doing this. The districts, most of them in my county and at least two of them fairly affluent in terms of socioeconomic demographics, are all upset. They don't want their teachers reporting any numerical grade lower than a 50, not even if such detail might actually be useful.
Not even if such detail is the truth.
They WANT to lie to their students, you see, because supposedly giving a kid a failing grade for crappy work will somehow damage his self-esteem to the point that he drops out of school altogether.
No word yet on what the dropout rate would be without this hokus pokus but last I checked, the state already has a pretty appalling rate of attrition when it comes to high school students.
The more cynical among us are less inclined to believe districts are lying to failing students to keep them happy because the districts genuinely want to help. Au contrare, we suspect that telling failing students it's all gonna be fine makes it easier to shuttle them through the system, let 'em screw up the test they have to take to graduate, tell them they've passed anyway, and then send them on to the local community colleges to be educated to the tune of $200 million in taxpayer monies a year. (See previous 'blog entries to learn more about this phenomenon.)
But, read excerpts from the actual news article and judge for yourselves, dear readers. Are the school districts in question truly altruistic in their zeal to convince failing students that what is, in reality, failure should be viewed as only sort of failure? I'll be interested to read your thoughts, so please comment at your convenience.
And now, for the educational travesty as reported by Ericka Mellon of the Houston Chronicle, June 28:
AUSTIN — A Travis County judge ruled today that Texas public schools are required to give students truthful grades on class assignments and on their report cards under a 2009 state law that 11 school districts were challenging in court.
Look, I'm all for encouraging students to do their best and for helping them untangle whatever has them all balled up when it comes to academics. I do this sort of thing on a regular basis with my own homeschooled bunch. But one thing I don't do is tell my children they've done great when they've done just okay, or that they've done okay when, in fact, they've really screwed up an assignment. I don't berate, badger, name-call, or otherwise humiliate them, but I do tell them that whatever they've done needs to be redone because A or B or C is incorrect. If they need help, I help them. If the mistakes are careless with no pattern to suggest an underlying genuine lack of understanding, I advise them to attempt the corrections on their own. One way or another, we figure out what went wrong and then I watch for a repeat in the days ahead just to make sure there's no residual confusion.
Granted, I'm dealing with only three kids and not three hundred but my point is that schools that prevent their teachers from being honest with students and parents are not doing those children any favors. While a 50 and a 30 are both failing grades, as a parent I'd want to know whether my child was consistently scoring one or the other. Sometimes a lot can be learned from identifying patterns, and severely failing grades at the 6 or 9-week mark would be a definite red flag.
I understand the argument of the districts' in this story that a failing grade is a failing grade and that driving home the degree to which a student is failing might, in fact, prove discouraging. But honestly, folks, if you're already making an F of any sort, aren't you likely to already be discouraged? Will getting a 50 versus a 39 really make you feel better?
Truth in public education is sorely lacking these days. We see it in the failure of teachers and students to report abuse of students by peers or other teachers. It's in the drive to preserve the status quo of the educational bureaucracy by fudging standardized test scores. It's in the testimonials of teachers who want to speak up about abuses within the system but who dare not for fear of losing their jobs. It's in the countless children failed by a system that told them they were fabulous when, in fact, they were failing. It's in the students who pass the standardized test required for high school graduation who still can't read, write, or do math at grade level.
We shouldn't expect students to love the truth, much less tell the truth, until we began behaving in ways worthy of emulation ourselves. I'm glad the Texas judge had the nerve to shut down the practices of the districts involved in this debacle.
I'm sorry the districts didn't have enough intelligence to do it themselves.
The difference is that a judge has ruled that eleven school districts must stop doing this. The districts, most of them in my county and at least two of them fairly affluent in terms of socioeconomic demographics, are all upset. They don't want their teachers reporting any numerical grade lower than a 50, not even if such detail might actually be useful.
Not even if such detail is the truth.
They WANT to lie to their students, you see, because supposedly giving a kid a failing grade for crappy work will somehow damage his self-esteem to the point that he drops out of school altogether.
No word yet on what the dropout rate would be without this hokus pokus but last I checked, the state already has a pretty appalling rate of attrition when it comes to high school students.
The more cynical among us are less inclined to believe districts are lying to failing students to keep them happy because the districts genuinely want to help. Au contrare, we suspect that telling failing students it's all gonna be fine makes it easier to shuttle them through the system, let 'em screw up the test they have to take to graduate, tell them they've passed anyway, and then send them on to the local community colleges to be educated to the tune of $200 million in taxpayer monies a year. (See previous 'blog entries to learn more about this phenomenon.)
But, read excerpts from the actual news article and judge for yourselves, dear readers. Are the school districts in question truly altruistic in their zeal to convince failing students that what is, in reality, failure should be viewed as only sort of failure? I'll be interested to read your thoughts, so please comment at your convenience.
And now, for the educational travesty as reported by Ericka Mellon of the Houston Chronicle, June 28:
AUSTIN — A Travis County judge ruled today that Texas public schools are required to give students truthful grades on class assignments and on their report cards under a 2009 state law that 11 school districts were challenging in court.
The school districts — most of them in Harris County - argued that the law applied only to grades on assignments, noting that the statute didn't specifically mention report cards, semester grades, or six- or nine-week averages.
But state District Judge Gisela Triana-Doyal ruled that the statute is "not ambiguous" and clearly means districts cannot require teachers to give students grades they did not earn. The bill's author, Sen. Jane Nelson, R-Flower Mound, has said she intended it to apply to all grades.
Richard Morris, the attorney for the school districts, said he would ask his clients whether they wanted to appeal the decision or to try to lobby for a change in the next Legislative session.
The school districts suing state Education Commissioner Robert Scott were Klein, Fort Bend, Aldine, Alief, Anahuac, Clear Creek, Humble, Deer Park, Eanes, Dickinson and Livingston.
The districts argued that their policies prohibiting teachers from awarding grades lower than a certain number - typically a 50 - helped keep students from getting discouraged and dropping out of school.
Without the policy, Clear Creek ISD Superintendent Greg Smith, said, "I think you close the light at the end of the tunnel for some students."
But the Texas chapter of the American Federation of Teachers, which intervened in the case on the side of the state, countered that the minimum failing grading polices were dishonest and didn't prepare students for college or the workforce.
"I feel like it's unethical," testified Mary Roberts, a teacher in Humble ISD.
Gee, do ya think?Look, I'm all for encouraging students to do their best and for helping them untangle whatever has them all balled up when it comes to academics. I do this sort of thing on a regular basis with my own homeschooled bunch. But one thing I don't do is tell my children they've done great when they've done just okay, or that they've done okay when, in fact, they've really screwed up an assignment. I don't berate, badger, name-call, or otherwise humiliate them, but I do tell them that whatever they've done needs to be redone because A or B or C is incorrect. If they need help, I help them. If the mistakes are careless with no pattern to suggest an underlying genuine lack of understanding, I advise them to attempt the corrections on their own. One way or another, we figure out what went wrong and then I watch for a repeat in the days ahead just to make sure there's no residual confusion.
Granted, I'm dealing with only three kids and not three hundred but my point is that schools that prevent their teachers from being honest with students and parents are not doing those children any favors. While a 50 and a 30 are both failing grades, as a parent I'd want to know whether my child was consistently scoring one or the other. Sometimes a lot can be learned from identifying patterns, and severely failing grades at the 6 or 9-week mark would be a definite red flag.
I understand the argument of the districts' in this story that a failing grade is a failing grade and that driving home the degree to which a student is failing might, in fact, prove discouraging. But honestly, folks, if you're already making an F of any sort, aren't you likely to already be discouraged? Will getting a 50 versus a 39 really make you feel better?
Truth in public education is sorely lacking these days. We see it in the failure of teachers and students to report abuse of students by peers or other teachers. It's in the drive to preserve the status quo of the educational bureaucracy by fudging standardized test scores. It's in the testimonials of teachers who want to speak up about abuses within the system but who dare not for fear of losing their jobs. It's in the countless children failed by a system that told them they were fabulous when, in fact, they were failing. It's in the students who pass the standardized test required for high school graduation who still can't read, write, or do math at grade level.
We shouldn't expect students to love the truth, much less tell the truth, until we began behaving in ways worthy of emulation ourselves. I'm glad the Texas judge had the nerve to shut down the practices of the districts involved in this debacle.
I'm sorry the districts didn't have enough intelligence to do it themselves.
June 17, 2010
Who's Eric Duquette and why does he give me hope?
Eric Duquette.
Google the name and see what you find.
He's not famous, but he oughta be.
Duquette just graduated high school in Rhode Island as salutatorian in a class of about 200 and gave a speech that will leave you wondering whether to laugh at his keen sense of humor or to cry in sheer joy and amazement at his accomplishment.
He didn't begin to speak until he was five years old.
Autism.
His parents were told he'd wind up in an institution.
According to Duquette, the doctors were right -- in a way.
He's been accepted into every institution of higher learning to which he's applied.
Never ever, ever give up.
Thanks, Eric.
Google the name and see what you find.
He's not famous, but he oughta be.
Duquette just graduated high school in Rhode Island as salutatorian in a class of about 200 and gave a speech that will leave you wondering whether to laugh at his keen sense of humor or to cry in sheer joy and amazement at his accomplishment.
He didn't begin to speak until he was five years old.
Autism.
His parents were told he'd wind up in an institution.
According to Duquette, the doctors were right -- in a way.
He's been accepted into every institution of higher learning to which he's applied.
Never ever, ever give up.
Thanks, Eric.
June 16, 2010
Ace is the place for the homeschooled hardware man
Last weekend, I made a trip to our local Ace Hardware to buy a fan. I wanted to install it alongside my treadmill so that even in the most brutal Texas heat I can exercise in comfort.
My sons and husband elected to go along with me because, well, the husband and older son have this weird affinity for things with moving parts and my toddler wants to do whatever they are doing.
We were standing in the aisle of fans or, as my five-year-old likes to say, the "Palace of Fans," when a store employee approached me and asked if I needed any help.
I was a little taken aback when I looked up. The salesman was really more of a sales boy, he looked so darn young.
Now, I know as I get older lots of people are going to start looking younger. But this person looked really young, too young to be wearing the store shirt and i.d. badge that said his name was Matt.
Not wanting to be rude (but figuring this kid couldn't possibly help me decipher the gazillion fans on display to find the one that had the most blowing power), I explained my situation and waited for the "oh, let me go ask So-and-So because he'll know more about it."
Instead, Matt smiled and said, "The fan you'll want is this one right here made by Stanley. It has a blah-blah-blah-blah and a frimfram for the gee-gaw" -- at least that's what I heard him say as he blew me out of the water with his technical know-how. My husband, on the other hand, was able to keep up and they engaged in a lively discussion about the pros and cons of the Stanley fan versus another one I'd picked out. Matt admitted he'd researched the subject and had bought one of the Stanley-made fans for his father for Father's Day.
"Do you research a lot of the things Ace sells?" I asked. He nodded. "Yeah, I like to know what everything does so when people ask me questions I can answer them," he said. I commented that he must really like his job to take the time to do that, and he said he did.
Looking at Matt more closely, I said to him, "So are you still in school?" (My way of finding out just how old he was.)
"Yes ma'am, I'll be a junior next year," he replied. "A junior in college?" I asked, thinking that would account for his incredible knowledge of makes and models of fans and pretty much everything else in the store.
"Oh no, in high school," he replied.
The plot thickened. How in the world, WHY in the world, would someone so young be so keen about researching products.
"What do you want to do after you graduate?" I asked.
Without skipping a beat he replied, "I want to start my own small business."
Ah.
Anyone who's read as many homeschooling magazines as I have -- and I think I've read them all -- has also ingested plenty of stories about young people free to explore their own entrepreneurial tendencies, often in a family-owned business. It's not uncommon among homeschooled teens to begin work early and often and, in fact, they can often be seen working right alongside their parents at book fairs and homeschool conventions selling, stocking, talking to customers.
The small-business remark, his manner, his ability to hold an articulate, informed conversation, his eye-contact, his politeness, the fact that he is so young and yet so capable, that he was working in a hardware store instead of screwing around wasting his summer like so many boys his age, that he was comfortable in a discussion with adults whereas most teen boys would rather cut off a body part than look you in the eye -- all those things combined prompted me to ask The Question.
"Matt, are you by any chance homeschooled?"
With a sheepish grin he said, "Yes. How'd you know?"
Sweet.
My sons and husband elected to go along with me because, well, the husband and older son have this weird affinity for things with moving parts and my toddler wants to do whatever they are doing.
We were standing in the aisle of fans or, as my five-year-old likes to say, the "Palace of Fans," when a store employee approached me and asked if I needed any help.
I was a little taken aback when I looked up. The salesman was really more of a sales boy, he looked so darn young.
Now, I know as I get older lots of people are going to start looking younger. But this person looked really young, too young to be wearing the store shirt and i.d. badge that said his name was Matt.
Not wanting to be rude (but figuring this kid couldn't possibly help me decipher the gazillion fans on display to find the one that had the most blowing power), I explained my situation and waited for the "oh, let me go ask So-and-So because he'll know more about it."
Instead, Matt smiled and said, "The fan you'll want is this one right here made by Stanley. It has a blah-blah-blah-blah and a frimfram for the gee-gaw" -- at least that's what I heard him say as he blew me out of the water with his technical know-how. My husband, on the other hand, was able to keep up and they engaged in a lively discussion about the pros and cons of the Stanley fan versus another one I'd picked out. Matt admitted he'd researched the subject and had bought one of the Stanley-made fans for his father for Father's Day.
"Do you research a lot of the things Ace sells?" I asked. He nodded. "Yeah, I like to know what everything does so when people ask me questions I can answer them," he said. I commented that he must really like his job to take the time to do that, and he said he did.
Looking at Matt more closely, I said to him, "So are you still in school?" (My way of finding out just how old he was.)
"Yes ma'am, I'll be a junior next year," he replied. "A junior in college?" I asked, thinking that would account for his incredible knowledge of makes and models of fans and pretty much everything else in the store.
"Oh no, in high school," he replied.
The plot thickened. How in the world, WHY in the world, would someone so young be so keen about researching products.
"What do you want to do after you graduate?" I asked.
Without skipping a beat he replied, "I want to start my own small business."
Ah.
Anyone who's read as many homeschooling magazines as I have -- and I think I've read them all -- has also ingested plenty of stories about young people free to explore their own entrepreneurial tendencies, often in a family-owned business. It's not uncommon among homeschooled teens to begin work early and often and, in fact, they can often be seen working right alongside their parents at book fairs and homeschool conventions selling, stocking, talking to customers.
The small-business remark, his manner, his ability to hold an articulate, informed conversation, his eye-contact, his politeness, the fact that he is so young and yet so capable, that he was working in a hardware store instead of screwing around wasting his summer like so many boys his age, that he was comfortable in a discussion with adults whereas most teen boys would rather cut off a body part than look you in the eye -- all those things combined prompted me to ask The Question.
"Matt, are you by any chance homeschooled?"
With a sheepish grin he said, "Yes. How'd you know?"
Sweet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)