Second Edition

The second edition of The Garfield Times, the newspaper created by my summer school class, is about ready to roll off the presses after a grueling night of typing and formatting.

Just two hours of sleep? Typing it all myself? Using Microsoft Word? Surely there is an easier way.

Jog Blog

Fear is black

Summer school offers school administrators an opportunity to see prospective hires do model lessons. A candidate for a teaching position may look great on paper, they may interview very well, but until you've seen them in an actual classroom setting, you're missing an important piece of the bigger picture.

Enter Ms. Herman. We're looking for someone to teach 7th grade language arts next year, and as my summer position is teaching 6th and 7th grade language arts, she did a model lesson in my class this morning to demonstrate her teaching skills.

I will be mercifully quiet about my own evaluation of those skills. However, I have some commentary.

She was asking kids to make a poem using similes and metaphors about how they feel (yeah, I know, *yawn*). Her sample poem was about fear. For the poem's first line, she was asking kids to compare the emotion to a color. "What color do you think of when you think of fear? What color is fear?" she inquired of my ultra-quiet class. Moments of silence passed, as I knew it would. I wondered what kids would say. When R. raised his hand, I was sure what would come out of his mouth, bracing myself for it, and I was right.

"Fear is black," he said.

Are you thinking what I was thinking?

Ok, ok, ok... I know, I know... You might think I'm being too politically correct, etc., etc. But this is one of those teachable moments that you just can't pass up. This was a moment to talk to the class about the innate racism of language (how white is pure and clean and black is evil and dirty, for example). This was a moment to talk about why R. thought of the color black when he thought of fear - and, to be fair, probably a lot of people would think the same thing. You have to understand also, though, that in my summer school class there is one black kid. Just one. And in the entire middle school, grades 6 through 8, he is 1 of 2. And when he came to my school in the middle of the year, a school that is 95% Latino, he went through hell just for being black (his classmates called him dirty, they called him smelly, etc.). And here he was, after surviving 5 months of this treatment at our school (which, by the way, it is absolutely shameful that we as a school community allowed it to happen), sitting in his summer school classroom and hearing "fear is black." What would you imagine went through his mind?

Maybe nothing. Maybe he didn't think of it that way. Maybe he didn't wince, as I did, as Ms. Herman repeated the line "fear is black" several times over the next few minutes. But maybe he did.

Can you spare a minute for this blog?

I went to Trader Joe's today to pick up some groceries. I've been meaning to do that for some time now - Safeway is closer, probably cheaper in most ways, but as you may know Trader Joe's has a lot of different foods. Plus cheap wine.

I observed something quite interesting: there are a lot of women who have no jobs.

At least, that's what I assume. If they had a job, why are they at Trader Joe's on an early Monday afternoon? Whatever happened to women's lib?

Because I work in a female dominated profession, I'm used to being the only guy in the room at trainings, meetings, and such. Even so, I very quickly noticed that I was in a sea of estrogen as I strolled up and down the aisles looking for granola.

On my way out, I was approached by an overly eager young woman wearing some environment-themed t-shirt with a petition in her hands. "Can you spare a minute for the environment?" she smiled sweetly, thinking that her line would almost certainly play on the guilt of the usually more liberal minded Trader Joe's shopper. "No, I can't," I said unsmilingly back at her, wiping the grin off of her face, annoyed by the wording of the question. But I'm complaining too much.

Dangerous

The Joy of Summer School

Unlike the Joy of Pepsi, the Joy of Summer School only lasts 3 weeks, and I'm 2 school days in - 13 more to go.

What to say of this group of 21 kids who are just about 7 weeks away from being 7th and 8th graders?

The phrase "blank stares" comes to mind. Actually, it's a noun phrase, to be more precise (thanks, Mark). Both mornings, I've been greeted by a visibly attentive audience. All eyes on me. And yet... I get no visual or audible feedback. Not even nodding of heads. I lavished praise upon Z. for nodding her head in response to one of my questions, hoping that would inspire others to follow suit. But it did not. I even printed out and passed around a photo from Pamplona of a guy getting gored in the "buttocks" by a bull, but nary a snicker. Tough crowd.

Teaching summer school is, I imagine, much like working in an emergency room. Time is of the essence - you can't spend a whole lot of it on getting to know your patient. You've just got to treat what's obviously wrong and hope that it helps them to get significantly better. I spent the first day assessing as best I could their strengths and areas of need in writing and spelling. I already got 3 spelling groups up and running today and did a review of the basic elements of paragraph writing (indenting, proper use of capital letters, the use of punctuation, sticking with one topic per paragraph, etc., and the improvements are vast already). I also took them to the book room to choose 3 informational books that are precisely at their reading level to help improve their reading comprehension. We're also working on a newspaper that will be published each Friday and sent out to all 200 summer school students.

There will be some interesting stories in the paper (which is currently nameless). We had an arson attempt on our snack shack on Monday morning, so we'll have an investigative piece on that. A pair of boys will be writing about the vandalism and break-ins that occurred in our middle school the last few weeks of the school year, resulting in the expulsion of 3 students. A girl will write a scathing social commentary about how kids blindly copy the examples of celebrities. We'll also have a horoscope, some poetry, and other hard hitting news. Nothing on Karl Rove, however.

Summer school also means trying to figure out what to do with my day after 12:30. So far, the answer has been rereading Harry Potter Year 5 so I can get to book 6 which I picked up on Sunday. Can't wait to read it!

Ant Terrorism: Part 2

Pursuant to my previous blog (The Long and Winding Blog, below), I came home yesterday evening to find that in my nearly four days of absence, the ants had done an admirably efficient job of killing themselves. The once long and crowded ant super highways that led to the four ant baits had become trickling streams with just a few stragglers.

Strangely, my bathtub was full of about 100 dead ants. How they got in there or why is beyond my comprehension. Even more perplexing and head-scratching-causing was what I discovered in my toilet (unusual, eh?). A group of about six ants were clinging to each other, floating and miraculously still alive, in a shape that can best be described as a square, much like you'd imagine a group of sky divers doing, arms (in this case, legs) linked.

I wish I had taken a picture. Truly remarkable. For a moment, I pondered the idea of saving them. Surely, with their survival instincts and guts, they were special ants. Somehow they'd fallen in the toilet, one by one, survived, found each other, and created a living ant raft.

I didn't ponder for long. I flushed them. But this gives further evidence to support the belief that my house is infested with no ordinary ants. They seem rather intellligent - but I want them all to stay outside just the same.

The Long and Winding Blog

Beginnings

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back-- Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would come his way.

I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets,

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."

W. H. Murray, notes from The Scottish Himalayan Expedition

Wasting time

(Reuters) - "U.S. workers say they squander over two hours a day at the workplace, with surfing the Web, socializing with co-workers and simply "spacing out" among the top time-wasting activities, according to a survey released on Monday" by America Online and Salary.com.

I believe teachers should work more. I have no problem with extending the school day until 5 o'clock. I have no problem with extending the school year from the current minimum of 180 days of instruction mandated by law to something more like 240 days (with, of course, an equivalent increase in pay).

*But* to hear that my counterparts in the corporate world, who generally make significantly more money than I do, are wasting on average 2 hours of their day every day, makes me shake my fist in the air.

During my school day, I do not have the luxury of wasting time. I generally arrive at school between 7:30 and 7:45. On a typical day (though, really, there is no typical day when you're a teacher), from the moment I step foot on campus until at least 5 o'clock, I'm going nonstop. When I first arrive there are 2 or 3 kids who've been dropped off already, waiting outside my classroom, wanting help with homework. The official school day begins at 8:25. From then until 3 I'm on my feet delivering huge amounts of complex information in (hopefully) understandable ways to my students. During morning recess and lunch recess I'm usually babysitting kids who haven't finished their homework (there's always at least one). When the day ends for the kids at 3, I then have coaching or a staff meeting or grade level planning or literacy training, depending on the day. At 5:00 I actually get a break, for the first time all day, but I still haven't prepped for the next day and I still have papers to review or grade for my 49 students. Inevitably, I take work home with me.

Consider also that I spend hundreds of dollars each school year of my own money on classroom supplies because my school (like many others) is so under-resourced.

Of course, somewhat paradoxically, I'm also considerably happier in my job than most office workers are.

Are you following me?

I've often thought of the persuasive power of the presidency. Indeed, it's one of the President's most powerful weapons, to use the bully pulpit to influence the opinions and choices of Americans. I've wondered, for example, what would happen if the President, during a state of the union speech or some other speech that gets a lot of press attention, said something to the effect of, "In closing tonight, I'd like to make a suggestion to you all, that after this speech is over with, you get up, go outside, and say hello to your neighbors. Maybe you've never met them before, maybe you've just shared a smile or a nod here and there on your way to the grocery store or on your way back from your daughter's soccer game. But I think our country would be better off if we'd just get to know each other a little better, starting with our neighbors."

I think it's a good idea. But, we all know there are some pretty funky people out there that maybe we'd rather not meet. Case in point: the guy who "accosted" me at a Chevron gas station today on my way back from a free Algerian (!) concert featuring a guy named Khaled and a surprising guest appearance by Carlos Santana. I'm sitting in my car, waiting for my wonderful and beautiful girlfriend to come back from getting water and a candy bar, when a guy pulls up right next to me and starts talking to me. My window up and my radio on, I can't hear him, and so I turn the radio off and roll the window down.

"You followin' me?" he says. He looks to be from somewhere in the middle east, his accent Indian-like. "You followin' me?" he says again, this time with a little more anger in his voice, a little higher intonation as I give him my most puzzled look.

"I'm sorry?" I said, not having any idea where he was coming from.

"You followin' me? You're followin' me!"

I of course shook my head and said, "I'm not following you. I wasn't following you."

Again, he repeats, "You followin' me!" He then pointed at his eyes and then at mine, saying, "I'm careful. You're followin' me. You be careful!" and then he promptly drove off.

I wonder if he knows his neighbors.

Phoning it in

Religion could kill us all

Is religion worth it?

From a new book out by Sam Harris, The End of Faith (and yes, Pam and Mark, I know that I've been quoting things a lot lately):

"Our world is fast succumbing to the activities of men and women who would stake the future of our species on beliefs that should not survive an elementary school education. That so many of us are are still dying on account of ancient myths is as bewildering as it is horrible, and our own attachment to these myths, whether moderate or extreme, has kept us silent in the face of developments that could ultimately destroy us."

He makes a good point, one that you're not likely to hear very often but that a lot of us are, generally, inclined to agree with. Certainly organized religion has played a part in countless bloody wars throughout history, in the name of God and all that's holy. Now we have a few very active people, on all sides, who take their holy books absolutely literally, and, again in the name of God or Allah, citing this or that passage from the Bible or the Koran, deny homosexuals basic rights, or blow themselves up on crowded buses, or bomb abortion clinics, or crash planes into skyscrapers, etc. Those same people now have access to weapons of mass destruction. That's more than just scary.

With the future of humanity at stake, is it worth allowing religious zealots to get in the way of all the progress that we've made since the dawn of history? Can we allow respect for religious beliefs to ultimately lead to our destruction? Hasn't mankind come to a point where religion is not only just holding us back, it's mortally threatening us?

In an interview in this month's Stanford magazine about his book, Harris says, "In almost every other area of our lives, when people hold strong convictions without evidence, they get pretty swiftly marginalized in our culture [except Fox News - my own commentary, not his]. It's really only on matters of faith where a radical exception is being made. That double standard is something I'm criticizing."

"O brave new world...

that hath such people in it," says Miranda in The Tempest. Also, of course, in Brave New World, which I just recently finished rereading (I often feel lost, useless, extremely bored during vacation; I turn to reading as a familiar solace).

Her statement begs the question: What kind of people hath our world in 2005? Yesterday's bombings in London remind us, if we needed a reminder, of humanity's lowest common denominator.

Perhaps a more cogent question to ask is: What kind of people are we?

John Adams, in considering our prospects of victory in the revolutionary war, wrote, "We cannot insure success, but we can deserve it." How we, the American people, allow our government to react to the radical Muslim threat will determine the degree of the former and the quality of the latter.

Belated 4th of July Blog

You may know that John Adams and Thomas Jefferson both died on July 4th, 1826, the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the signing of our Declaration of Independence. Invited as 2 of only 3 surviving "signers," both did not attend the festivities in Washington - not, I would venture to guess, out of lack of desire, but due to failing health, or perhaps out of a sated satisfaction from the role they had played.

Thomas Jefferson, in this final public offering published all over the country, wrote of the 4th of July:

"May it be to the world, what I believe it will be (to some parts sooner, to others later, but finally to all) the signal of arousing men to burst the chains under which monkish ignorance and superstition had persuaded them to bind themselves, and to assume the blessings and security of self-government.... All eyes are opened or opening to the rights of man. The general spread of the light of science has already laid open to every view the palpable truth, that the mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few, booted and spurred, ready to ride them legitimately by the grace of God. These are the grounds of hope for others; for ourselves, let the annual return to this day forever refresh our recollections of these rights, and an undiminished devotion to them."

I'm reminded of the struggle for democracy going on in Iraq, of those countless individuals around the world who secretly yearn for self-government. I'm reminded of the G8 leaders meeting in Scotland to discuss their obligations to a world starkly devoid of the promises of peace and stability that accompanied the birth of the United Nations half a century ago.

For how many of us was this 4th of July such a day as Jefferson wished it to be for all future generations of Americans, a day to reflect on the blessings of liberty and on the rights we reluctantly but eventually enthusiastically went to war for? In the Declaration of Independence we are reminded that the purpose of government is to protect the rights of the people. With what confidence can we declare our government has fulfilled this sacred obligation?

I have recently finished a brilliant biography of John Adams by David McCullough (a Christmas gift - thanks Mom!). It has done much to inspire me personally but also to inform my general philosophy around the purposes and bold promises of our nation. I'm determined now to study my way through the biographies of our founding fathers and, in turn, the birth of the United States, so that when others wrap themselves in the flag and declare their intent to be for the good of the people, I can have some solid footing with the boldness of our own country's revolutionary heroes at my back.