No Parents Left Behind

Education reform continues to be a hot topic around these United States, with "low-performing schools" and "highly qualified teachers" getting a lot of attention. This is the time of year where those of us in the education biz pace around our cages, waiting for the scores from those all-important standardized tests to show up. It will be mid to late August before the computers up in Sacramento spit out our marching orders. What list will we find ourselves on this year?
While we wait for that inevitability, it might be nice to visit a happy place, if Detroit can be described in such terms.
Wayne County Prosecutor Kym Worthy says that in Detroit, where the lack of making parents accountable for their children partly is blamed on elevated truancy and dropout rates, as well as a recent rash of violent crimes involving teens, parents should go to jail for up to three days for missing parent-teacher meetings. Three days in jail? Like criminals? Who does this Kym Worthy think she is? "I understand the prosecutor's concern, but jail time?" said Detroit middle school teacher Ann Crowley. Even the teachers are having a hard time getting behind this one.
But we can dream, can't we? In a world where achievement for our children is based on a test taken over the course of five days at the end of a school year that may or may not have included a student's best work or effort. These standardized test scores, as important as they are, do not influence a child's progress. On the contrary, they only become available months after the school year has ended, and that kid's future has already been decided. Any highly qualified teacher would have set up a conference with that student's parent who might be in danger of failing. Maybe they were having trouble getting to school on time, or needed to have the correct permissions to get additional support or simply checking in on the progress they were supposed to be making.
No, I don't believe that tossing parents in jail for missing report card conferences would save our schools, much less our society, but it does tell me that someone has finally caught wind of that third leg of the triangle and that the time has come when students, teachers and parents begin to work together to reform education. Meeting with your child's teacher once a year doesn't sound like too big a price to start.

Diary Of A Wimpy Collegian

There I was, rooting around my basement in search of additional fireworks for him to scoff at our city's statutes against such things, when I happened upon a journal. It was the notebook in which I scribbled my innermost thoughts back in my college days. In my memory, there were several such notebooks, spiral bound, overflowing with observations and witty remarks on the human condition. I must have picked up the wrong notebook.
I was in my early twenties, and I was compelled by two main motivations: appearing clever, and seemingly endless rants about my inability to find romance. To be more precise, the romance part was more about searching for a mate. Perhaps dating would have been a good starting point, but I seemed to be consumed with the need to find a life partner. I wasn't looking to shop. I was ready to buy. And I was such a whiner about it. "Why can't I find love?" I opined. It had not occurred to me, at that time, that simply looking was only part of the answer. Appearing ready for such a lofty enterprise was the part that eluded me. Decades later, I looked on my tightly packed scrawl and winced. Who would want to date this guy? What a train wreck.
To my credit, I seemed to be digging myself out of a hole. For several years leading up to the composition I held in my hands, I had immersed myself in all the drama that teen romance would allow. I was playing big stakes back then, and the fact that I wasn't already married and settled down by my junior year in college seemed to be my chief disappointment in life. I filled page after page with emotional ennui, but I seemed to be aware that dragging myself off the pyre of my own despair was my best hope. I expected to turn the page and find these words: "Lighten Up!"
They never came, and as I continued to flip through the book, I became aware that I was being sucked back down that well, twenty-some years later. I closed the notebook and shoved it back in the drawer, beneath the bag of pop bottle rockets that I kept concealed for just such an emergency. My wife and son were waiting for me. Sometimes you get exactly what you want. It just takes a while.

Meet The New Boss -

General David Petraeus assured his troops, one hundred and thirty thousand of them, that they are "in this to win." This comes as a comfort, I'm sure, not only to the soldiers in Afghanistan, but their families at home. Some of the misguided notions floating around previously about the United States' mission over there, such as we were over there to help ensure the safety of Haliburton employees, can now be put to rest.
"We must never forget that the decisive terrain in Afghanistan is the human terrain," Petraeus wrote Sunday in a memo to his troops, praising their effort. "Protecting those we are here to help nonetheless does require killing, capturing or turning the insurgents. We will not shrink from that." Again, that might still include Haliburton employees, but I think he means the men and women who live there. Unless they happen to be insurgents, in which case there will be more killing, capturing and turning.
Turning? Did he say "turning?" Are we really expecting that our presence there will convince "insurgents" that they've made some horrible mistake or miscalculation and that these Americans really are here simply to help democracy flower? Well, that and capture, kill or turn insurgents, so why not come on over for the big win? "As you and our Afghan partners on the ground get into tough situations, we must employ all assets to ensure your safety, keeping in mind, again, the importance of avoiding civilian casualties," the general continued. Those civilians, by the way, just might turn out to be insurgents, so keep your head on a swivel, soldier.
Meanwhile, back on the home front, we were informed by Republican Party chairman Michael Steele that Afghanistan is now officially "Obama's War Of Choice." It's not quite as catchy as "Desert Storm" or "Enduring Freedom," but "The Hundred Years War" was already taken. Good luck, general, and godspeed.

MEMO:

To: TJ
From: BF

Tommy - love the pages I've got so far, especially that whole "preamble" bit. I'll bet that will get George's pantaloons in a twist, especially that whole "repeated injuries and usurpations" thing. And how about, "We hold these truths to be self-evident," where do you come up with this stuff?
That does bring me to my fist note: "All men are created equal?" Have you taken a look around the room recently? You really think old Hawkins is fit to hold your quill, or that Paine fellow with his so-called "Common Sense?" Really. But I understand it's a sales job, after all, and if we really want the votes, we've got to appeal to the fly-over colonies.
Which brings me to my biggest concern. You keep talking about "the people" in here, and I can't help but think that sooner or later some servant or slave, or heaven forbid, woman will get a hold of this thing and start thinking it applies to them. Oh sure, the "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness" is all well and good, but you start tossing around freedom and independence for everyone, and sooner or later we're going to have to deliver.
Don't get me wrong, I love your style: just the right amount of pomposity to make it clear that this common man idea thing really only applies to those of us who can read the thing in the first place. I think we're in pretty good shape as long as you don't start advocating for public education.
I guess the good thing about getting all inclusive there with "Men" is that we can probably count on all those farmers and tinsmiths to hop on their horses and grab a musket once the fertilizer hits the fan back in England. And hey, even if they do march on over here to put us back in our places, I've got a feeling we'll still end up pretty near the top of the heap anyway, am I right?
I've gotta run, I'm off to invent the Cheese steak. See you in the morning.
Revolutionarily yours,
Ben
July 3, 1776

For What It's Worth

The other day at lunch, my wife began to describe for my son the nature of economics: "You know, there are people who go to school their whole lives to understand money." I did not attend any of these courses. Consequently, there are plenty of things about money that I don't understand.
For example: How is it that there are pools of seemingly uninterrupted cash for Tiger Woods to pay his wife not to talk to anyone ever about what a horrible husband he was. Three quarters of a billion dollars worth of silence. This news came to me on the same day that, once again, the lawmakers in Sacramento failed to pass a budget for the state of California. All kinds of things happen as a result, including our Governator's plan to start paying state employees minimum wage until the budget gets passed. Since the average salary of a state employee is about sixty-five thousand dollars a year, this had the opposite effect of Tiger's settlement. There was a lot of noise. Budget deficits totalling billions of dollars are causing all kinds of racket, and everyone wants to know where their slice of pie is. I don't know much about economics, but a casual glance at USA Today tells me that money is best understood as pie.
The state of California is also going to be paying twenty million dollars to the family of Jaycee Dugard, who spent eighteen years in captivity, in part, because the state's parole board did not effectively monitor her kidnapper, a convicted sex offender. If you ask me, it seems like the state is getting off cheap, but it still begs the question: where does all this money come from?
Meanwhile, back on the sports pages, the Los Angeles Clippers are one of the teams vying to have LeBron James come save their franchise. They are auditioning for the opportunity to write great big free agent checks to Mister James in hopes that he will do something that he never managed to do with his previous team: win a championship.
I understand that much of what makes free enterprise work is the idea of supply and demand. Consumers assign the value for things like Gatorade and street sweeping. Then we stick unions in there and laws to regulate trade and assign taxes and tariffs and suddenly I have lost track completely. To paraphrase Joni Mitchell, whose net worth is probably well over a million dollars, "I've looked at cash from both sides now, from win and lose, and still somehow, it's life's illusions I recall. I really don't know cash at all."

Best And Brightest

Gearing up for the big Fourth of July holiday, contemplating just where I will spread my freedoms most thick, I can not decide between the savings I will enjoy at Macy's or my local Toyota dealership. With those choices still so difficult to discern, I will instead turn my thoughts to the history of this great land of ours. Specifically, those who have been selected to lead our nation through nearly two and a half centuries. A recent survey conducted by Siena College of two hundred and thirty-eight scholars came up with their answer for the Best President Ever. Scholars would know, since they're so very scholarly.
Before we open the envelope and announce the winner to our readers here, I ask you to take the test yourself: Forty-three previous chief executives to choose from, leaving Barack Obama out for the time being, since his stats are still being compiled. If you were to ask any of the kids at my school for their favorite president, it would probably come down to two: George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. This may be, in large part, due to the fact that kids know of many of their accomplishments: chopping down cherry trees and walking miles to return change. Kids also get days off school to celebrate their birthdays. That is also probably why some of them would tell you that Martin Luther King was their favorite president.
Solid reasoning, and maybe enough for most adults as well. Of course, there are those who insist on naming Richard Nixon just to be contrary, or Franklin Pierce just to get everyone running to Google to see if there really was a U.S. president named Franklin Pierce. Appearances on currency is another quick way to gauge popularity, with George and Abe getting high marks there as well, though our largest current bill denomination doesn't carry the portrait of a president and no, it is not Sacagawea.
So, let Sarah "Quitter" Palin continue to sing the praises of Ronald Reagan, and pity poor Andrew Jackson who came in last. For now, let's toast Franklin Delano Roosevelt as our survey's Best President Ever. Though he only shows up on the dime out of sympathy, he helped drag our country out of a depression and through a war being fought on two fronts while creating massive new social programs that remain cornerstones of our American society today. Now, if Obama can just get three more terms, I'm sure he'll be right there in the running the next time this survey is taken.

The Safety Dance

I'm not going to let my son sail around the world by himself. At least, not for the foreseeable future and not because he has been pestering me to do so. He is, after all only thirteen. Now is the time when parental math becomes so very arbitrary. I know that when I was his age, there were a great many things that I felt completely ready for, but my parents would have disagreed. Leaving aside for a moment the example of circumnavigating the globe, let's examine a much more concrete example: crossing the street.
My family was taking a run/walk through the neighborhood yesterday when we came to an intersection where there was no marked crosswalk. It was an odd confluence of three streets, one continuing on uphill with another at a ninety degree angle while on the other side the third came angling in from behind a tall stand of trees. It is also the spot where, just about a year ago, our son had crossed on his bike just before a car came roaring down the hill and put his parents' collective heart in their collective throat. Now, a year later, my son wanted to know, as we crossed on foot, why he "always got busted" for crossing without a crosswalk. My wife made some accurate recollections of his near miss, and left hers with a comfortable "because we're grown ups." Mine was even more succinct, "because we don't want you to die."
More to the point, we don't want him to die knowing that we did not do everything humanly possible to keep him safe. Does that make us "helicopter parents?" I suspect it's a matter of degrees. While some would say that we are less focused, others I'm sure view us as Nervous Nellies, constantly interfering in our child's development. Of course he's going to fall down. Of course he's going to feel disappointment. I don't thinks that's grounds for neglect. But if my son announced that his burning ambition was to be the youngest person to scale Mount Everest, part of me would be full of pride, the rest of me would be stammering all the reasons why it would be too difficult crazy scary impossible. It's a tough balancing act: wanting your offspring to achieve their dreams and keeping them alive.
On the other hand, it's not that hard at all. I'm always going to feel most comfortable watching him from a safe distance. It's up to us to figure out what that safe distance is.