How to say "goodbye" in Russian . . .

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.