Wear Red

Curious what the CTU strike is all about? It seems there are so many questions and the messaging has been messy. Here's my take: It is about

A Quality Day in the Classroom (not creating a babysitting service so kids can be 'kept busy')
Reasonable Classroom Size (not the up to 55-students-per-class that has been threatened)
Necessary Social Services  (not the 'just sit here and breathe' response when a nurse is not present)
Investment in Schools (not 'step over the puddle in the bathroom, honey' facilities)
Fair Contracts for teachers (not 'suck it up' re-negotations that fail the sniff test)

How do these issues play out in real life? In my child's school, which practices an 'inclusion' model of instruction, the class size is more likely to be over 30 - even in primary grades.  Because everyone is included in an inclusion model class, that room will have several English-speaking students who are, at least, average learners. It'll also include several children with varying degrees of special needs - hearing impairment, speech impediment, learning delay or more severe concerns. That classroom will also include a few children who don't speak a lick of English and a few others who are still learning the language. And, not often understood but true, the classroom will include special needs children who are at another point on the spectrum - they need accelerated instruction and greater challenge. Over 80% of the children in that classroom - or at least 24 of 30 - meet the criteria for a free or reduced lunch. (In an ironic twist, when those same children apply for high school the system forces them to the bottom of the priority list because, according to census numbers, we live in a high income area.)

That's why we need a quality day - especially if it's a longer one - and we need a reasonable pupil-to-teacher ratio. 

In my child's school, the classroom can be extremely hot (over 90 degrees) or extremely cold (closer to 60 degrees) and the presence of either extreme is not necessarily tied to the current climate outside. The fancy new heating and cooling system they put in place as part of a rehab still doesn't work so today while it was 80+ degrees outside I was wearing pants and a full coat in the office and I was still cold. We've had tons of work done to our school and I'm grateful for it, but if we're still the mess we are, what's going on in poorer neighborhoods?

That's why we need investment in school facilities. Basic stuff.  Stuff we have in our cars, for crissakes.

In order to meet the needs of all children, teaching often occurs in smaller groups, with several children working independently while the teacher works with one group, and a resource teacher works others, if there's one assigned. Almost on a daily basis, you can walk through the halls of that school and see groups of children sitting on the floor in the hallway trying to read or work on group projects because there's no adequate space for them to do so in the classroom and no adult available to supervise or guide the learning. What did you do when you were left in the hallway with a group of your buddies at age 9? Learn?

That's another reason we need reasonable classroom sizes and pupil-to-teacher ratios and investment in school facilities.

A nurse is present only a few days a week and with the increase in allergies and other health concerns in the general student population we've had to make absurd adjustments to day-to-day 'normal' activities to accommodate the lack of a health professional on staff. 850+ children in the building on a given day. Think about that. Today, with less than 100 people in the building the nurse was called upon three times and one of those injuries required an ER visit. A child entitled to X number of minutes per day for his/her learning support needs gets exactly those minutes. So if they need a few more but the schedule doesn't allow, the teacher is forced to move on rather than stay with the child and get them to the next level. It's cruel and awful and the teachers are sickened to have to do it.

That's why we need appropriate levels of social services in the building at all times.

In addition to traditional curriculum requirements, teachers are required to meet testing requirements with their instruction. These tests currently serve to measure not only students but schools. The children who don't speak English? They take those tests. The children who are delayed in learning for one reason or another? They take those tests. The teacher whose student rarely shows up for class, or spends half his time in detention? He takes that test too. Children in our school whose parents take them to their home countries for weeks on end and must actually re-register when they come back because they've been gone so long? Yup. Test. Why do you think those scores look like that?

Again, if you want children to succeed - if that's really your goal - you need to have reasonable pupil-to-teacher ratios and invest in support services that work and can be measured by the teacher not a chart.

Send your child to a school building with mud instead of grass on its playing field, jammed doorways that didn't always work, an intercom system that frequently beeped without warning, inadequate heating and cooling so that your child might be sweating or shivering depending on his/her location in the building throughout the day, leaking plumbing in bathrooms, classwork being conducted on the floor in hallways, gym in the classroom because the gym is being used as storage, no textbooks because central office didn't get them to us on time, and a teacher who had to tend to 32 other children in the classroom during the day. OK? Still feel like you are in the third largest school district in the country? Still feel like you live in the richest nation on Earth?
That's why we need honest, meaningful and intentional investment in school facilities which reflects our high prioritization of education.

Now how about if I asked you to work in that environment and then promised you a raise and then renegged on the raise and then asked you to work more hours and offered to evaluate your performance based on how well those kids did in your classroom - would you be cool with that?

And that's why teachers deserve a fair contract. They deserve it. They earn it and are entitled to it and we owe it to them. Fair. That's all.

A friend of mine is considering leaving the city because he's afraid the end result here is that there will be a huge tax increase to pay for the resources the city needs to effect these changes. My answer? No. It's time to pay attention to how the budget is written so that our real priorities are reflected and dollars are spent where we want them spent. It's time to stay and fight our asses off to make things better for ourselves and our children and everyone else's. It's time to insist policymakers stop playing politics with our children's futures - and our own - as more and more ill-prepared children become ill-prepared adults and take our futures into their hands. The future of the country is at stake. It is really that important. And it's just that simple. Our teachers deserve our full and undivided attention, our loyalty and our support.

Because, really? Forget all that stuff I just said. You just need to ask yourself one question in order to sort this whole thing out: who among us has become anything without a teacher? Not one.

Wear red.

Don't Treat Me Like I'm Dumb, and other observations

By most accounts, Mitt Romney's got to be a pretty smart guy. I may not agree with his politics, but I can recognize that he's probably a pretty smart guy.

So I'd like to know how he's going to bring those smarts to bear on:

labor policy, commerce, the environment, fair trade, poverty, reform of the justice system, progressive planning and implementation of modern infrastructure, transportation (domestic, global and space?), housing policy, health care - and repeal is fine if you have something in mind to replace it, immigration (and its role in labor, commerce, the environment, fair trade, poverty, justice, housing and healthcare), foreign relations,  education (and whether the federal government should have a role in setting standards and supporting local initiatives), the FCC and modern media and its role in the health of the democracy, defense and the proper allocation of resources to ensure we never again go to war without the equipment our troops need to be protected and successful, veterans affairs, and human and civil rights, both domestic and foreign.

The fact that he doesn't tell me any of that leads me to believe he thinks: I've too short an attention span to pay attention to the details (SQUIRREL!), he doesn't have plans in these areas so he's nothing to say (but his cash contributers...er... policy advisors do), or the more likely - he thinks I'm too dumb to get it. Well, I'm not too dumb. I'm actually a pretty smart gal myself. So I go looking if you don't offer.

Is anyone else fascinated by the fact that he has a tab on his website labled "Human Capital" which you can get to from the "Issues" page? http://www.mittromney.com/issues/human-capital. "Human Capital" says so much to me about how he sees things. Some of the content on that page makes sense - the disconnect between our skills and what the market demands is real, some of the federal programs have no traceable results, ok - I follow. What are you going to do?

It's a two prong-answer. Retrain US Workers (which the gov't is currently doing, supposedly) and Attract the World's Best and Brightest. WHA? Wait for it...

Retraining US workers has four points: 1. consolidate programs and costs, 2. give states money to manage programs 3. facilitate creation of 'personal reemployment accounts' and 4. encourage more private sector participation in training.

Again, I ask, "Do you think I'm dumb?"

'Consolidate programs and costs' is politispeak for 'Cut'. 'Give states money to manage programs' is politispeak for 'Prepare to Cut'. 'Personal Reemployment Accounts' is Republispeak for 'Save some money you lazy good-for-nothings' and 'Encourage private sector participation' means what? You'll stand at a job fair with pom poms and cheer for companies to hire ill-equipped workers?

But this is the part that stops me.  The 2nd prong of the solution according to the Romney plan is to globally recruit. This is the whole paragraph, word-for-word, from his site.

To ensure that America continues to lead the world in innovation and economic dynamism, a Romney administration would press for an immigration policy designed to maximize America’s economic potential. The United States needs to attract and retain job creators from wherever they come. Foreign-born residents with advanced degrees start companies, create jobs, and drive innovation at an especially high rate. While lawful immigrants comprise about 8 percent of the population, immigrants start 16 percent of our top-performing, high-technology companies, hold the position of CEO or lead engineer in 25 percent of high-tech firms, and produce over 25 percent of all patent applications filed from the United States.

Republican say what? Foreign nationals is what we need to rennovate the ingenuity that built America? There's so much hypocrisy in this statement and its relationship to all the rhetoric at the convention I simply cannot list it all here.

Suffice to say I'm not surprised that the nearly-all-white audience in Tampa did not hear this little tidbit about how he thinks we're going to recover jobs in the United States.  Coupled with his experience in shipping U.S. jobs abroad during his time in 'business', one has to wonder if we're not just going to have some kind of trans-Atlantic loop-de-loop built to facilitate the absurdity.

I'm not dumb. So I don't care if you love me, Ann.  I raised kids while my husband was away working. I know it's hard. That neither qualifies you nor him (nor does it me or mine, for that matter) to do anything other than comment on the stresses and joys of parenting.

I don't care if you discovered your latent Republicanism, Ms. Martinez, however your lack of clarity speaks volumes and makes your position as somone whose opinion I should consider both comical and sad. You're 'someone to watch'? I'd rather enjoy the relative greater excitement of watching grass grow.

Ms. Rice, you have a compelling American story. But you failed our nation as National Security Advisor, you continued to insist on legitimizing the foreign policy of that embarrassingly bad president as Secretary of State, and you de-humanized your own self with your treatment of others in the administration who, like the American people, deserved your honesty and your willingness to stand up for what was right instead of what was being ideologically spoon-fed to you by Karl Rove. I have nothing but regret as to your place in history.

Marco, you embarrass me as a Cuban-American because you know full well that creating a divide between the haves and the have-nots is what robbed our parents and grandparents of their country and my children of their rightful cultural inheritance. That son-of-a-bitch has outlasted how many American presidents and foreign leaders? And why? Because the greedy wealthy of our parents' home country put him there and kept him there. The people would rather have him than revolutionize and try anything else again. And now you want to install the same kind of backwards policy in this country where we all came to escape? Shame on you! Debes de tener verguenza.

Mr. Huckabee, your accent is charming and your resemblence to Gomer Pyle almost endearing, but what you have to say makes no sense to me.

Ditto for Mr. Eastwood, sans the accent and the Pyle resemblence. Plus, you were vulgar and demeaning to the office of the President, my President, our President. I could only wince through most of that presentation. What a sad stamp on your public persona.

Messrs. Ryan and Romney - I'd like to have a real choice for these elections but you offer me none. I may not be pleased with all this administration has done, but they've done enough to earn my vote. I'm done thinking that because you're white and wealthy you're smarter than me, or in on some secret I don't know about that makes you more capable than me. I'll take my chances with someone to whom I can relate, who's life experience makes sense to me and whose rhetoric is traceable to some truth, some facts.

And you know what? We just ideologically differ. That's fine. I get it. But I'll thank you not to treat me like I'm dumb.

The Days of Peanut Butter and Jelly Walls are Over

I've spent some time these past weeks painting my kitchen and dining room. The walls and baseboards had suffered indignities I can only begin to imagine and I shudder to recount the suffering of white door frames and window-sills. Among the most egregious repeat offenders? Peanut butter and jelly. In glops. In smears. Joyful and sinister at once. Those smudges, everwhere! even behind the refrigerator? smirked at me as I approached with bleachy washcloth poised.

I was embarrassed to see how much I'd missed. I hadn't spent a lot of time from the 2.5 foot mark and below, wiping walls and corners - something I should have done, I guess.

But then, having a three-year-old and two one-year-olds will occupy a good chunk of your time, which is what I had when I first moved into this home and painted those walls. Those were giddy days - fast and full. There were triumphs and tragedies galore, most involving Polly Pockets or Batman (or some unfortunate interaction between the two) and all could be resolved with lots of hugs and kisses and - in the twins' case - the promise of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

It got to the point where Sam would just stand by the fridge any time anyone was upset and suggest "pum jey?" Sara didn't even like the full PBJ. She just wanted the cute little sandwiches in a baggie. She'd lick the jelly off and smush the remainder into balls and play with them. Sam did, of course, consume all the PBJs you gave him and then searched for Sara's discarded peanut-butter-bread balls and ate those too.

Sometimes I got to them to wipe their hands before they wiped them elsewhere. Sometimes I didn't. The math on that may be further skewed than I thought, now that I've cleaned the kitchen and dining room from floors to ceilings. Someone asked me while I was working on this project, "Why now?" and I answered without thinking, "The days of peanut butter and jelly walls are over."

Sam and Sara are celebrating their twelfth birthday today.

They're 'hanging out' now instead of 'playing' and both are nearly, not quite but nearly, my height. Sam's voice is changing. Sara's figure is forming. Neither plays with dolls or action figures. I suppose that's a good thing, but I'm a little sad at the loss of those baby days.

So I was sitting here and thinking about that, and what's to come, while I was finishing white trim. Sam had friends over and the house sounded like I had a barrel of guys in it. Sara was pretending to not like it, but she was flushed and giggly. Uck. At a point, the two of them came up to get something and walked past me.  I looked at Sam and said, "What the heck do you have all over your shirt?"

They both looked at him, then turned and without flinch said in unison, "Peanut butter and jelly." Thank God.

And Happy Birthday to my lovely Sara and my handsome Sam.

Three's Company: The Mom Version

While not all of us are fortunate enough to have both our parents in our lives for as long as we'd like, many of us benefit from pretty awesome parents, one or the other, for a good chunk of time.

I'm sure you've heard how I feel about my mom, but you may not know that there have been other 'moms' in my life who have had an incredible influence on who I am as a person. These are just a few

Mima was a gorgeous woman, petite and powerful. She kept a clean and well-decorated home, fussed over everyone, loved intensely, dressed impeccably, smelled like face powder and cooked homestyle food like a gourmet chef before it was mundane to do so. She was refined and she was a gracious hostess. But here's the thing many people missed about her. Her hands. Her hands were tiny and probably when she was young, very delicate. The years had made them red and rough. She was this elegant lady with taste in classical music and fine chocolates with these hands of the woman who was dismissed arrogantly in English-speaking grocery stores and who washed floors on her hands and knees at the church.

I couldn't tell you everything she taught me, but this one thing has defined me: a woman is not all one thing, and she is never just what she appears to be.

Karen, also a beauty, with a porcelain face and a curvy figure, was in many ways everything my mom and Mima were not. Karen kept a beautiful home but different - it was comfortable and well furnished but it was being lived in and you knew it. She never panicked over a few crumbs on the counter, never scowled if you didn't put your shoes at the door just so, let you wipe the milk from your face with the back of your hand.  Her home had pets galore, a huge poodle aptly named Sugar, talking birds, fish, you name it. And she made the gold standard of BLT sandwiches - serious witchcraft in that thing - honestly. Karen never seemed to take anything seriously. So if you weren't there to notice, you may have missed how smart she was and how craftily she managed all the people (and pets) she cared for. She kept her mother and grandmother close, lived for many years in the same building as her sister, and had plenty of maternal care to spare on a scrawny little kid from down the street. She was this floating party of a woman but at her center she was serious and focused and intentional.

I couldn't possibly put into a line all the things this woman taught me, but I'll say this has made a difference: Being a mother is serious business and the very best of them laugh all the way through.

And Eileen. Eileen wasn't one of my surrogate moms. She's the mom of my daughter's closest friend. Eileen's this wispy, freckly lady with a shock of silky, dark hair and an imperviously young face. She walks faster than the average cyclist on a downhill run, drives like a NASCAR racer in a minivan and can't suffer a long meeting without complaint. But she'll take days upon days to painstakingly craft together long strands of individually selected beads for a birthday necklace. She'll guide your kid through the weeks-long process of making a miniature room out of popsicle sticks and felt scraps. She's a dessert maker (love that about her!), a closet pundit, an amazing party planner and a real, true and decent friend.  So she's great at the mom thing, but did I tell you that Eileen is at the top of her game in her field? She's a sought-after expert and draws people from all over the country, all over the world even, to her events. She's worked for governments and privately funded institutes and everywhere you go with her she's a gal people want to talk to.

So here's what I get, in spades, from Eileen: you can be a mom and have your own interests and your own successes and it doesn't make you any less of a mom. 

I once had my indignant, then 4 year-old, daughter tell me that if I wanted to be a better mom I ought to try to be more like Eileen. At the time I was completely crushed, but the more I've thought on it, the more I suspect she's exactly right. I'm trying. I'm also throwing a little Karen in there and a good dose of Mima and my Mom and a few other women. 

In the end, I can only be me as a mother. But I'm so glad to have had these women in my life to show me how to find the best mother in me.

It's The Teachers, Stupid

There's a lot of bluster in our daily news about the economy (it is that, too) and politics (it shouldn't be that) and money (it's definitely not that). That's all good and well - we need to talk about those things and get them sorted out. But, in my view, we may be missing a key part of the conversation. Never one to be left out of a conversation, I've got some thoughts. It's not about any of that - the solution to our problems, that is. It's about the teachers. So here's my ode, along with a special thanks to a certain someone who got the wrong end of my big mouth.

Thanks for teaching my children how to read. I don't have the vocabulary to express what importance I place on that skill, and that you gifted it to my children, along with hundreds of others over the course of your careers, is a blessing I'm sure can only be repaid to you in the next life, where the Gifter is a much greater one than I. That you did so while nurturing, humoring, inspiring is beyond the pale.

Thanks for carrying my children, with all their talents and challenges, through the process of learning with those talents and challenges, not despite them. That you took the time to actually know each one of my children, that you learned them so you could teach them to learn, is a talent so few professionals have and it gave them each so much self-confidence and pride in their work.

You did something I was desperately trying to do but couldn't; you made my children love learning. My children were eager to go to your classes, excited about the next thing - whatever it was. You made them not only read with comprehension, you made them readers! There's nothing better, in my book. (heh heh, readers - book - I'm a riot!)

And let's just cede that the kids certainly weren't going to get math appreciation from me at home. You took a subject that doesn't always have a lot of appeal for many students and you made it interesting, a puzzle, a challenge, a process of pathways to solutions. Those skills are translatable across every possible subject, and my children have drawn from your energy and excitement to dig in with enthusiasm and confidence. It's no small thing.

But it's not always enough to teach. Sometimes you have to let that go and just be a person. You have been hard, when needed, soft, when it mattered, and every shade in between. So the kids know you and adore you and they are more connected to their learning because of you. I'm so grateful.

Your ambition and interest is infectious.

My children learned so much from your classes because you talk to the children like they're real people. I always think children are more convinced when the teacher him or herself believes what they're saying and say it like they mean it - and you do.  Thank you.

While it's not always cool when mom likes it, it sure is cool when you do. What a pleasure it has been to hear stories of your in-class discussions. What a joy it has been to watch my children bloom in your literary gardens. What a treat, for me, to know you are the stewards of the words I love so much, so my children can love them too.

You take my beloved social sciences and make them real, plausible, current - even when the material is ancient! You bring your humanity into the classroom. You are thinkers and citizens of the world and it shows - there's no greater example for young children.

And I'm sure there's some piece of music which would more eloquently express my deep thanks to my children's fine arts teachers - some piece of art that calls out with joy and tears-in-your-eyes thrill at the thought of you and what you've given my children. I'm sure there is and I just don't know it, so my words will have to suffice, but they're woefully inadequate, because you are the color and music in the hearts of my babies - thank you thank you!

And here's one last note, since this has gone on alarmingly too long. I'm the only child of a single-parent mom. For reasons too ridiculous to enumerate here, if you're a man in the life of my children, I watch you like a hawk, and if you misstep I'm on you before immediately. The other day, I callously teased one of my children's teachers in front of others. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. Instead, you should know that you more than exceed the standard I have for a teacher - and that you do so wearing the vestige of a man makes you that much more phenomenal in my eyes. (That you are a conservative ideologue and a hunter only serves to prove that no one is perfect, but you're damn close.) My babies adore you because on top of your compassion, kindness, patience and attention you're just a load of fun. Learning should be fun. School should be a blast - exciting and interesting and sometimes silly. You make it that for them under some pretty challenging restraints and you impress me with the ease you bring to the task. Thank you, James. You're going to be a magician in a classroom, I just know it.

So I know these thanks are not much - not enough for sure - but please know that whatever your unions tell you, whatever the politicians and newsmakers tell you - none of that matters.  You are what it is about. You do matter. And I do, with a full heart, appreciate you.

I'm Not Married to the Idea

We're getting a couch from a friend this week. We've been needing a replacement for the old couches we got from friends, so this is a nice treat. The couch we're getting is a sectional, but the configuration of our living room is such that I think we'll have to split it up. I'm not, however, married to the idea.

That's because in order to be 'married' once has to be convincingly, irrevocably (or nearly so) and before witnesses, joined with something or, more commonly, someone. I may change my mind about the couches. But I'm not going to change my mind about my husband. I'm married to him. I swore to my family and to God that I'd be married to him until death do us part and I intend to keep that promise. Now, if death parts us under suspicious circumstances... that's not in the vows.

I don't get why some folks don't want other folks to get married. If being married means 'together', why don't they want some folks to be together?

And if it doesn't mean together, united, joined -- holy cow --  I may have signed up for the wrong thing!

Also, how did the word get so holy in the case of gay and lesbian marriage, but no one protests when it's bandied about on the Food network when discussing plums and garlic ('Oooh, Eric, I just love the way he married the ingredients in this plum sauce - absolutely divine!')?

Which is it - sacred vow that only some genders get to use, and only then when using in the context of its application to another gender - and only then when applied to humans - and only then if sanctified according to a legislative document OR a way to bring together fresh and dry ingredients with a delicate cream sauce to the ecstatic delight of some nitwit on a food show?

I may be more evolved than the President on this, and I'm sure I part company with many of my brothers and sisters of dogmatic pursuit, but I just think if you want to get married, and you're an adult of sound mind, and so's the other person, and you're willing to take on in-laws, you should be RUN... er... you should be free to do so. I think this is especially true in the 'land of the free'. How sad that folks in our country, where freedom is so proudly sung, are voting against it.

Maybe those folks ought to have one of their freedoms taken from them in exchange for this vote, so they could see how it feels for a bit. I know it's absurd and would be the absolute ruin of democracy, but it might get the point across. I suppose there are other ways. We could try something else. It's not like I'm married to the idea.

My baby

It'll be Lucy's birthday tomorrow. Just one more before the big 15 we've been holding out in the ever-diminishing distance, a date which once seemed so far away it was easy to push off all of the adult privileges and responsibilities we told her would be hers to hold once she crossed that threshold. Just one short year. She's just a baby! She doesn't know it yet, but I'm going to cling to this next year like tomorrow clings to the end of today.

Not Exactly The Type To Take Herself Too Seriously

I'm glad to see her become a young woman, truth be told. I think she's ready - more than. And she's still a snuggler. She still trusts me and giggles with me and seeks me out. Still my baby. But it's coming, I know, the time when her friends come before me, the time when someone else gets her news before I do, the time when I'm excited to see her, but she's too preoccupied to notice.

Lucy is my first and so with every change that comes, she carries the brunt of my reaction (usually mind numbing sadness accompanied by bags of potato chips, or embarrassing joy accompanied by other potato chips). It's not easy and she carries it well. I think she knows that all of it, all my ups, downs and in-betweens are tethered ever so tightly to my complete, overwhelming, sometimes over-the-top (ok, more than sometimes) love for and adoration of her. She fills me with so much pride I'm certain others can see it on my skin, through my clothes and escaping from the ends of every curl on my head. She is my baby!

That'll never change, I'm sure, no matter how much she grows, spreads, reaches away. For me, the soft, flawless, amazing baby that was handed to me on the day she was born is the same one who now plays soccer (a little violently) and rocks a saxophone and makes the grade and handles herself like a real pro, focused, ready and ambitious.

A year from now we'll be marking passage from childhood into young adulthood. I think she's already passed. The days of high school and boys and jobs and worries await. It'll be a quick wink before she's an adult, carrying on with the chores of her own life, with children of her own, perhaps. She'll be a mommy!

Still. No matter. She is, and always will be, my baby.