The June 2011 issue of Atlantic magazine is a must-read for anyone who cares about the education of American children. Written by Joel Klein, former chancellor of New York city schools and the prosecutor who made Bill Gates and Microsoft cry "uncle," the article explores the real reasons behind the failure of American public education.
Klein fought hard to change the status quo in NY public schools. He lost.
Calling today's public education "essentially a government monopoly," Klein notes that "whether a school does well or poorly, it will get the students it needs to stay in business, because most kids have no other choice."
So, what IS the "business" of public education? Klein explores this with a cynicism usually found in people like me, commoners who have bucked the system for so long that we're usually deemed reactionary, unbalanced, or downright hateful.
"Let's start with the politicians. From their point of view, the school system can be enormously helpful, providing patronage hires, school-placement opportunities for connected constituents, the means to get favored community and business programs adopted and funded, and politically advantageous ties to schools and parents in their communities," Klein writes.
Klein goes on to describe an instance in which he argued before the NY state assembly to end patronage hires. Politicians pretended to be shocked but afterward Klein was told he could count on one committee member's future support if only he (Klein) would make sure a school principal in the member's district wasn't fired. So much for pleading ignorance of patronage, eh?
In another instance, Klein writes about his reorganization of the school system in which he minimized the power of 32 local superintendents. A local official called Klein and asked how he'd get "constituent services" once the reorg was complete. Klein replied, "What's that?" and the official said, "How do I get a kid into a school when I need to?" When Klein tried to explain that admission to the school system could not be preferential, the official said, "Go f**k yourself," and hung up.
I know, I know, you're waiting for me to explain what all this has to do with public education. Folks, what I've just presented IS public education, at least in New York City.
Without completely violating copyright laws, I'm going to quote a few other "revelations" from Klein's article. These little nuggets speak volumes:
* The gains we have made in improving our schools are negligible -- even though we have doubled our spending (in inflation adjusted dollars) on K-12 public education.
*On America's latest exams, one third or fewer of 8th grade students were proficient in mat, science, or reading.
*ACT, the respected national organization that administers college-admissions tests, recently found that 76 percent of our high-school graduates 'were not adequately prepared academically for first-year college courses.'
*The World Economic Forum ranks the U.S. 48th in math and science education.
*Politicians do what the teachers' unions want, not what children need.
*Substandard teachers are nearly impossible to get rid of, at least in NY schools.
*Teachers who are "burned out" continue to bide their time so they can receive uber-generous benefits upon retirement. They inflict their apathy and indifference upon their students.
*Charter schools that have been successful are derided as insignificant exceptions. Instead of trying to figure out what they've done right, teachers' unions and other invested public school proponents dismiss these schools as aberrations.
Klein also quotes former United Federation of Teachers president Al Shanker, exposing some hard truths about the grownups in charge of children's most important institution aside from their families:
"When schoolchildren start paying union dues, that's when I'll start representing the interests of schoolchildren," Shanker is quoted as saying.
Towards the end of the article Klein draws upon Shanker's words again, this time from a 1993 speech to the prestigious Pew Forum: Shanker said, "We are at the point that the auto industry was at a few years ago. They could see they were losing market share every year and still not believe that it really had anything to do with the quality of the product. . . I think we will get -- and deserve -- the end of public education through some sort of privatization scheme if we don't behave differently."
Klein's prognosis for public education isn't pretty. "Time is running out," he writes. "Without political leadership willing to take risks and build support for 'radical reform,' and without a citizenry willing to insist on those reforms, our schools will continue to decline. . . (T)he global marketplace will be very unforgiving to a populace that doesn't have the skills it demands."
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.
May 29, 2011
The lesson of Flanders Fields
Tomorrow is Memorial Day and although it's a holiday traditionally fraught with barbecues and sports events, it's really a holiday to commemorate the soldiers lost in battle.
As year-round homeschoolers, I try to make sure we don't spend such holidays without making an effort to learn something from them or about them.
This year, before we embark on our picnic and play, we're going to learn about the history of Memorial Day and the poem In Flanders Fields written by WWI Canadian soldier John McCrae.
It's one of the few poems I cannot read without crying.
My daughters will have to read it aloud to me, and then they'll get to copy it in their own handwriting.
After that, we're going to talk about the life of the poet himself and the girls will write a short dictation about him.
There's a beautiful poppy picture to color, and a one-folder lapbook to make.
Somewhere in all of this, we've got little American flags to post in our front yard and I'll tell them once again about the brave men in their family who have served or are serving our country in peacetime and in the Iraq War, war in Afghanistan, Korean War, both world wars, the Civil War, the War of 1812, and the American Revolutionary War.
They are:
Dillon Blevins (American Revolutionary War)
Armstead Blevins (War of 1812)
Hugh A. Blevins (War of 1812)
Hugh A. Blevins, Jr. (Civil War -- Confederacy)
William Blevins (Civil War -- Confederacy)
John Blevins (Civil War -- Confederacy)
John Henry Stephens (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Benjamin Franklin Stephens (Civil War -- Confederacy)
William Stephens (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Thomas Hamby (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Elijah T. Wells (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Leonard Hamby (WWI)
Howard I. Evans (for Canada, WWI)
Clifford Evans (WWII)
Lloyd Evans (WWII)
Howard Evans (WWII)
Dallas Evans (Korean War)
Randall C. Evans (Afghanistan)
Chris Hamby (Iraq and Kosovo)
Wells Hamby, Jr. (Navy during peacetime)
A grateful nation may pay its tribute tomorrow and then again on Veterans' Day in October, but a grateful family remembers these men all year long. We are proud of their courage and willingness to act on their highest sense of right, and for those who are still with us we pray they return safely home soon.
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
As year-round homeschoolers, I try to make sure we don't spend such holidays without making an effort to learn something from them or about them.
This year, before we embark on our picnic and play, we're going to learn about the history of Memorial Day and the poem In Flanders Fields written by WWI Canadian soldier John McCrae.
It's one of the few poems I cannot read without crying.
My daughters will have to read it aloud to me, and then they'll get to copy it in their own handwriting.
After that, we're going to talk about the life of the poet himself and the girls will write a short dictation about him.
There's a beautiful poppy picture to color, and a one-folder lapbook to make.
Somewhere in all of this, we've got little American flags to post in our front yard and I'll tell them once again about the brave men in their family who have served or are serving our country in peacetime and in the Iraq War, war in Afghanistan, Korean War, both world wars, the Civil War, the War of 1812, and the American Revolutionary War.
They are:
Dillon Blevins (American Revolutionary War)
Armstead Blevins (War of 1812)
Hugh A. Blevins (War of 1812)
Hugh A. Blevins, Jr. (Civil War -- Confederacy)
William Blevins (Civil War -- Confederacy)
John Blevins (Civil War -- Confederacy)
John Henry Stephens (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Benjamin Franklin Stephens (Civil War -- Confederacy)
William Stephens (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Thomas Hamby (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Elijah T. Wells (Civil War -- Confederacy)
Leonard Hamby (WWI)
Howard I. Evans (for Canada, WWI)
Clifford Evans (WWII)
Lloyd Evans (WWII)
Howard Evans (WWII)
Dallas Evans (Korean War)
Randall C. Evans (Afghanistan)
Chris Hamby (Iraq and Kosovo)
Wells Hamby, Jr. (Navy during peacetime)
A grateful nation may pay its tribute tomorrow and then again on Veterans' Day in October, but a grateful family remembers these men all year long. We are proud of their courage and willingness to act on their highest sense of right, and for those who are still with us we pray they return safely home soon.
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
The brilliant light from the back row
Longtime readers of this 'blog know I have a child with Asperger's Syndrome, a fancy name for high-functioning autism.
She danced in her fifth ballet recital this weekend and for the first time I saw my mother-in-law cry at the sight of it.
My daughter, while an enthusiastic ballerina, is not exactly the most polished dancer in her class. Her mind is often full of other things -- the music that's playing, her own image in the mirror, the shuffling and stepping of the other students in the room -- and this keeps her from focusing heavily on her own body posture and positioning.
The routine her teacher choreographed gave my daughter no quarter. She was expected to perform alongside the rest of her class and to learn all the same moves. Mercifully, her teacher understands the challenges of Asperger's and kept my daughter largely to the back of the configuration so that any mistakes would not be as obvious. While it's important to give people with Asperger's every opportunity to do their best, it's equally important to preserve their dignity in the event their best is not as good as the world thinks it should be.
A full dress rehearsal is always held the morning of the recital. Usually, the rehearsal is full of stops and starts, blocking the dancers on the stage, and finally the dance to music. The auditorium lights are up, people are talking, parents are fussing over last-minute costume fittings, makeup or hair, and stagehands are working out last-minute kinks in curtains, lighting and sound. All this contributes to a complete lack of focus for my daughter and this year's rehearsal was no exception.
Arms loose, legs flailing, eyes darting out to see if I was watching her, my daughter was anything but the picture of poise and confidence. She watched nearby dancers too closely. Had she not really learned the routine? She seemed perpetually out of step. Could she not hear the music? I smiled on the outside, but inside my heart sank a little. I began to dread the actual performance later that day.
Call time found me in line with my daughter and her younger sister who is also a ballet student and whose work is consistently high caliber. Among the extended family, my younger daughter is the dancer no one worries about and who everyone expects will do wonderfully. She never fails to disappoint. I'm proud of her achievements, but because they are the norm for her I confess to being less amazed than when my older daughter does something in a similar vein. I guess I was born to cheer for the underdog.
As I signed the girls in to the backstage holding area, I said a silent prayer over my oldest -- the verse from the Book of Timothy in which we are told that "God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of love, and of power, and of a sound mind."
Please, God. Please give her the soundness of mind she needs to pull this off. Remind her of the joy You gave her from birth, the love she has for music, and calm any anxiety she might be feeling.
I'm firmly convinced that God listens most closely when a mother is the one pleading her case. Those are often the most desperate of prayers.
Following a series of well-executed dances by other groups, my daughter's class came on to the stage and the music began.
Seated in the third row, I could clearly see my child but she could not see me thanks to the glare of the stage lights shining down. This was good. It meant she would not be seeking me out. It meant she would not see my inadvertent grimace should she make a misstep. I could cover any disappointment simply by sitting hidden in the dark.
As the music started and the dance commenced, something took hold of my struggling ballerina. She began to smile. No, not smile, beam. She began to beam as if someone had flipped the switch on a very bright light somewhere inside her spirit and its shine simply had to come forth.
Her steps seemed more sure. Her arms, for the most part, were held in proper position. She stood tall and confident and seemed to know where to go without having to look to a classmate for guidance. Even though she spent only a few moments somewhere other than on the back row throughout the whole routine, she never once stopped beaming.
My mother-in-law leaned in to me and said, "This is just wonderful. I can't keep from crying."
I knew what she meant.
For about three minutes, the brightest light in that whole auditorium came not from any spotlight but from the face of my daughter and I, too, gave up trying to hold back the tears.
For in him we live and move and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, "We are his offspring." Acts 17:28 (NIV)
She danced in her fifth ballet recital this weekend and for the first time I saw my mother-in-law cry at the sight of it.
My daughter, while an enthusiastic ballerina, is not exactly the most polished dancer in her class. Her mind is often full of other things -- the music that's playing, her own image in the mirror, the shuffling and stepping of the other students in the room -- and this keeps her from focusing heavily on her own body posture and positioning.
The routine her teacher choreographed gave my daughter no quarter. She was expected to perform alongside the rest of her class and to learn all the same moves. Mercifully, her teacher understands the challenges of Asperger's and kept my daughter largely to the back of the configuration so that any mistakes would not be as obvious. While it's important to give people with Asperger's every opportunity to do their best, it's equally important to preserve their dignity in the event their best is not as good as the world thinks it should be.
A full dress rehearsal is always held the morning of the recital. Usually, the rehearsal is full of stops and starts, blocking the dancers on the stage, and finally the dance to music. The auditorium lights are up, people are talking, parents are fussing over last-minute costume fittings, makeup or hair, and stagehands are working out last-minute kinks in curtains, lighting and sound. All this contributes to a complete lack of focus for my daughter and this year's rehearsal was no exception.
Arms loose, legs flailing, eyes darting out to see if I was watching her, my daughter was anything but the picture of poise and confidence. She watched nearby dancers too closely. Had she not really learned the routine? She seemed perpetually out of step. Could she not hear the music? I smiled on the outside, but inside my heart sank a little. I began to dread the actual performance later that day.
Call time found me in line with my daughter and her younger sister who is also a ballet student and whose work is consistently high caliber. Among the extended family, my younger daughter is the dancer no one worries about and who everyone expects will do wonderfully. She never fails to disappoint. I'm proud of her achievements, but because they are the norm for her I confess to being less amazed than when my older daughter does something in a similar vein. I guess I was born to cheer for the underdog.
As I signed the girls in to the backstage holding area, I said a silent prayer over my oldest -- the verse from the Book of Timothy in which we are told that "God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of love, and of power, and of a sound mind."
Please, God. Please give her the soundness of mind she needs to pull this off. Remind her of the joy You gave her from birth, the love she has for music, and calm any anxiety she might be feeling.
I'm firmly convinced that God listens most closely when a mother is the one pleading her case. Those are often the most desperate of prayers.
Following a series of well-executed dances by other groups, my daughter's class came on to the stage and the music began.
Seated in the third row, I could clearly see my child but she could not see me thanks to the glare of the stage lights shining down. This was good. It meant she would not be seeking me out. It meant she would not see my inadvertent grimace should she make a misstep. I could cover any disappointment simply by sitting hidden in the dark.
As the music started and the dance commenced, something took hold of my struggling ballerina. She began to smile. No, not smile, beam. She began to beam as if someone had flipped the switch on a very bright light somewhere inside her spirit and its shine simply had to come forth.
Her steps seemed more sure. Her arms, for the most part, were held in proper position. She stood tall and confident and seemed to know where to go without having to look to a classmate for guidance. Even though she spent only a few moments somewhere other than on the back row throughout the whole routine, she never once stopped beaming.
My mother-in-law leaned in to me and said, "This is just wonderful. I can't keep from crying."
I knew what she meant.
For about three minutes, the brightest light in that whole auditorium came not from any spotlight but from the face of my daughter and I, too, gave up trying to hold back the tears.
For in him we live and move and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, "We are his offspring." Acts 17:28 (NIV)
May 26, 2011
Why don't they just use duct tape?
The federal government has a new way to parent your children for you. Problem is, it's going to cost $500 million dollars.
According to Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, the Race to the Top Early Learning Challenge will target children from birth to age 5 in an effort to make sure they're ready for school.
Sounds fine, if you're the sort that likes the government interfering in your business, right?
Wait until you hear what the feds are worried about.
CNSNews.com reports:
Sebelius, adding on to comments from Asst. Education Secretary Joan Lombardi, pointed to studies done in her home state of Kansas, where she served as governor. “When we looked at 5-year olds--and we tested about half the 5-year-olds in a relatively homogeneous state like Kansas -- and found that about half of them were not ready for kindergarten at age 5," Sebelius said.
"And some of those skills were missing: readiness for their math or reading," she said. "A number of children were missing the social and developmental skills which would allow them to sit in a classroom or play with others or listen to a teacher for any period of time. So I think it was an indicator that you couldn’t just test curriculum readiness.”
And this gem, also from Ms. Sebelius:
“You really need to look at the range of issues, because if a 5-year-old can’t sit still, it is unlikely that they can do well in a kindergarten class . . ."
Let me see if I've got this right. FIVE-YEAR-OLD children were "tested" for math and reading readiness. They were found lacking in social and developmental skills which would allow them to sit in a classroom and listen to a teacher for any period of time.
This is rocket science??????
They're FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is a problem that usually time, maturity, and patient training will solve unless some wingnut convinces a parent to drug their little energetic child into a trance, but I digress.
Have we all lost our minds? Have we forgotten what it means to be a little kid? When did normal, youthful exuberance become a disease to be cured? When did kindergarten become so regimented?
Duct tape will keep a child in his or her seat, and for a whole lot less than $500 million. Maybe we should rethink its use in schools after all.
According to Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, the Race to the Top Early Learning Challenge will target children from birth to age 5 in an effort to make sure they're ready for school.
Sounds fine, if you're the sort that likes the government interfering in your business, right?
Wait until you hear what the feds are worried about.
CNSNews.com reports:
Sebelius, adding on to comments from Asst. Education Secretary Joan Lombardi, pointed to studies done in her home state of Kansas, where she served as governor. “When we looked at 5-year olds--and we tested about half the 5-year-olds in a relatively homogeneous state like Kansas -- and found that about half of them were not ready for kindergarten at age 5," Sebelius said.
"And some of those skills were missing: readiness for their math or reading," she said. "A number of children were missing the social and developmental skills which would allow them to sit in a classroom or play with others or listen to a teacher for any period of time. So I think it was an indicator that you couldn’t just test curriculum readiness.”
And this gem, also from Ms. Sebelius:
“You really need to look at the range of issues, because if a 5-year-old can’t sit still, it is unlikely that they can do well in a kindergarten class . . ."
Let me see if I've got this right. FIVE-YEAR-OLD children were "tested" for math and reading readiness. They were found lacking in social and developmental skills which would allow them to sit in a classroom and listen to a teacher for any period of time.
This is rocket science??????
They're FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is a problem that usually time, maturity, and patient training will solve unless some wingnut convinces a parent to drug their little energetic child into a trance, but I digress.
Have we all lost our minds? Have we forgotten what it means to be a little kid? When did normal, youthful exuberance become a disease to be cured? When did kindergarten become so regimented?
Duct tape will keep a child in his or her seat, and for a whole lot less than $500 million. Maybe we should rethink its use in schools after all.
May 20, 2011
The battlefield of public education
These are the headlines as published on the Drudge Report yesterday (May 19).
Anyone care to comment?
Sexting scandal rocks middle school (this involved distribution of a photo of a 13 yo girl nude)
Student commits suicide day after principal hypnotized him
Teacher discovers 18 lbs of heroin in 7 year-old's backpack
Mom: 12-year-old son duct taped to chair and beaten while teacher ignored attack
School wants to allow bus drivers to search students
CHEATERS: DC teachers help students beat standardized tests
Child pornography, cheating, physical abuse, drugs, body searches, hypnotism . . .
Something tells me the American public has been hypnotized with the result that too many of us still believe the government schools are really the best place for our children to receive an education.
I'm just saying . . .
Anyone care to comment?
Sexting scandal rocks middle school (this involved distribution of a photo of a 13 yo girl nude)
Student commits suicide day after principal hypnotized him
Teacher discovers 18 lbs of heroin in 7 year-old's backpack
Mom: 12-year-old son duct taped to chair and beaten while teacher ignored attack
School wants to allow bus drivers to search students
CHEATERS: DC teachers help students beat standardized tests
Child pornography, cheating, physical abuse, drugs, body searches, hypnotism . . .
Something tells me the American public has been hypnotized with the result that too many of us still believe the government schools are really the best place for our children to receive an education.
I'm just saying . . .
May 2, 2011
I'm glad bin Laden is gone. Does that make me a bad Christian?
Just 24 hours after the disposal of Osama bin Laden's earthly remains, a new debate has emerged.
Should Christians be rejoicing over the death of a human being, even if that man is the modern-day epitomy of evil?
Clergy writing for websites such as Huffington Post lament the celebrations taking place across our country saying such vulgar displays of jubilation debase us as a people, certainly if we call ourselves Christians.
No word on whether atheists or religious non-Christians are free to whoop and holler without the charge of hypocrisy being heaped upon them.
As a Christian, albeit an imperfect one, I decided to explore my own feelings about the long overdue demise of OBL. To what extent am I merely relieved? To what extent am I actually gleeful?
Frankly, it's hard to tell.
Am I sorry OBL was so deranged and deluded by visions of grandeur and a thorough perversion of his religion that he masterminded the death of nearly 3,000 people on 9/11? Sure am.
Am I sorry OBL was killed? No.
As we say in Texas, "he needed killin'." Besides, if we'd taken him alive, some bleeding-heart liberals would have whined that his constitutional rights had been violated and we'd have had to let him off on a legal technicality. Killing him removed that risk altogether.
It's a fact that once a murderer is himself killed, he can never murder again.
Is being not sorry equal to feeling joy?
In my case, it might be, and I'm willing to admit it.
I rejoice because our military men were brave and successful in their effort to track and nail OBL. I rejoice because none of our men were hurt. I rejoice because OBL will never commit another atrocity -- because we killed him. I rejoice because now OBL has the chance to meet face to face with the One Who made him and to begin his atonement for the many sins committed while on earth. I rejoice because the principle of the universe that says no one goes unpunished either here or hereafter for violating God's laws proved itself true once again.
So, yeah, I guess I do rejoice in the death of OBL.
I know what Jesus says about forgiving seven times seventy. I know what he said about turning the other cheek. I know that if he'd been here in the intervening years after 9/11 he'd have probably driven out the evil spirit that dwelt in OBL and changed the man's life for the better.
But Jesus hasn't been here all these years -- at least not in a bodily form able to meet and talk with OBL -- and I am just flawed enough in my walk with God to struggle mightily with forgiveness, especially when neither my country nor my fellow Americans asked to be attacked.
May God forgive me since I cannot find it in my heart to forgive OBL. And may God work a mighty work in OBL so that he finally sees the error of his ways.
Should Christians be rejoicing over the death of a human being, even if that man is the modern-day epitomy of evil?
Clergy writing for websites such as Huffington Post lament the celebrations taking place across our country saying such vulgar displays of jubilation debase us as a people, certainly if we call ourselves Christians.
No word on whether atheists or religious non-Christians are free to whoop and holler without the charge of hypocrisy being heaped upon them.
As a Christian, albeit an imperfect one, I decided to explore my own feelings about the long overdue demise of OBL. To what extent am I merely relieved? To what extent am I actually gleeful?
Frankly, it's hard to tell.
Am I sorry OBL was so deranged and deluded by visions of grandeur and a thorough perversion of his religion that he masterminded the death of nearly 3,000 people on 9/11? Sure am.
Am I sorry OBL was killed? No.
As we say in Texas, "he needed killin'." Besides, if we'd taken him alive, some bleeding-heart liberals would have whined that his constitutional rights had been violated and we'd have had to let him off on a legal technicality. Killing him removed that risk altogether.
It's a fact that once a murderer is himself killed, he can never murder again.
Is being not sorry equal to feeling joy?
In my case, it might be, and I'm willing to admit it.
I rejoice because our military men were brave and successful in their effort to track and nail OBL. I rejoice because none of our men were hurt. I rejoice because OBL will never commit another atrocity -- because we killed him. I rejoice because now OBL has the chance to meet face to face with the One Who made him and to begin his atonement for the many sins committed while on earth. I rejoice because the principle of the universe that says no one goes unpunished either here or hereafter for violating God's laws proved itself true once again.
So, yeah, I guess I do rejoice in the death of OBL.
I know what Jesus says about forgiving seven times seventy. I know what he said about turning the other cheek. I know that if he'd been here in the intervening years after 9/11 he'd have probably driven out the evil spirit that dwelt in OBL and changed the man's life for the better.
But Jesus hasn't been here all these years -- at least not in a bodily form able to meet and talk with OBL -- and I am just flawed enough in my walk with God to struggle mightily with forgiveness, especially when neither my country nor my fellow Americans asked to be attacked.
May God forgive me since I cannot find it in my heart to forgive OBL. And may God work a mighty work in OBL so that he finally sees the error of his ways.
The small pink shoe
My daughter turned nine today. And our country killed Osama bin Laden.
The coincidence is rich with meaning for me.
The first appointment with the midwife -- who would go on to deliver my child in a planned homebirth -- was scheduled for an otherwise unremarkable morning, September 11, 2001.
The midwife was late. Riveted to her computer as I was to our television, the horrific news of that morning hung over our visit. Neither of us could really discuss the details of childbirth at home, our hearts were so heavy and our minds racing to fully grasp what had just happened a hour or so before.
My daughter was born the following May in a country still grieving the more than 3,000 innocents killed some seven months before. I gave her the middle name of America.
Fast forward nine years to a routine rummage through my nightstand and the discovery of a small pink shoe. . .
Little pink shoe in the palm of my hand
Worn by the tiniest dancer of all.
At barely three years old, I still see her stand
At the barre where she seems so brave and so small.
Move through the positions, stepping once and again,
She knows how to bend and then how to begin,
Didn't want to take lessons, just wanted the clothes,
Tiny pink soft shoes to wear on her toes.
What happened to time?
Supposed to go slow
And my little dancer?
Where did she go?
When I found the little shoe, the realization that my daughter was once so small hit me hard and I started to cry. It all moves much too fast.
The coincidence is rich with meaning for me.
The first appointment with the midwife -- who would go on to deliver my child in a planned homebirth -- was scheduled for an otherwise unremarkable morning, September 11, 2001.
The midwife was late. Riveted to her computer as I was to our television, the horrific news of that morning hung over our visit. Neither of us could really discuss the details of childbirth at home, our hearts were so heavy and our minds racing to fully grasp what had just happened a hour or so before.
My daughter was born the following May in a country still grieving the more than 3,000 innocents killed some seven months before. I gave her the middle name of America.
Fast forward nine years to a routine rummage through my nightstand and the discovery of a small pink shoe. . .
Little pink shoe in the palm of my hand
Worn by the tiniest dancer of all.
At barely three years old, I still see her stand
At the barre where she seems so brave and so small.
Move through the positions, stepping once and again,
She knows how to bend and then how to begin,
Didn't want to take lessons, just wanted the clothes,
Tiny pink soft shoes to wear on her toes.
What happened to time?
Supposed to go slow
And my little dancer?
Where did she go?
When I found the little shoe, the realization that my daughter was once so small hit me hard and I started to cry. It all moves much too fast.
May 1, 2011
Justice delayed is justice nonetheless
Socrates: "And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the morality of the many - is that just or not?"
Crito: "Not just."
Socrates: 'For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him?
Crito: "Very true."
Socrates: "Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil to any one, whatever evil we may have suffered from him.... This opinion has never been held, and never will be held by any considerable number of persons."
The head of the snake has been cut off. How much longer until the rest of the body dies?
In memory of all who were killed September 11, 2001.
Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.
We got him!
Crito: "Not just."
Socrates: 'For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him?
Crito: "Very true."
Socrates: "Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil to any one, whatever evil we may have suffered from him.... This opinion has never been held, and never will be held by any considerable number of persons."
The head of the snake has been cut off. How much longer until the rest of the body dies?
In memory of all who were killed September 11, 2001.
Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.
We got him!
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