Tending the Eclectic Kinder-Garden

I’ve been home since Monday evening. I have re-cleaned areas of the house that the family *thought* they had cleaned before my return (our techniques for dusting, mopping, vacuuming, laundering and disinfecting don’t exactly match), and I finished reading The Other Boleyn Girl last night. I baked some cookies that are perfectly accompanying my coffee this morning, and I’ve just made it through all of the blogs I missed reading while I was away. Wowzer, was NetNewsWire *full*! I’ve emailed friends and family, sent photos of my trip, and fast-forwarded through most of my recorded t.v. shows on DISH. Catching up, catching up.

I’m not certain what inspiration will find me today, but I’m guessing grocery shopping and re-thinking the seasonal decor in the house will occupy some of my time this morning. Of course I’ll be working up tomorrow’s Show and Share blog, with more photos of some of the goodies I bought while in Oz this past weekend, and will keep my fingers crossed that our internet tech is able to find the source of our internet connection woes sometime today.

I’m looking forward to Shannon’s visit next week as is Dear Daughter. Having moved four times in five years by this summer, time spent with our family and friends who are family helps us to stay connected in between our travels hither and yon. No, still no news on where we’ll be stationed next- I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed that we will NOT be staying here in the Bordertown. Thank you for your good thoughts!

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Clarification:

For those of you who followed the link in my Knowledge is Power post, and were wondering if I was advocating that all parents pull their children out of school during mandated assessments, the answer would be “no.” I do encourage and am an advocate for parental involvement, LOTS of parental involvement in the lives of their children, but I believe that in our country’s present state of turmoil, not many parents have taken the time (for whatever reason) to really sit back and look at the long-term effects of decisions they’ve allowed others to either make for them or scare/convince them into making themselves in regard to NCLB. When I provide links that I’ve found interesting and thought-provoking, I share them in the hopes that their content will somehow engage others, get them thinking from another angle, or provide another detail or interpretation that will help with the bigger picture for those readers who are spending time to survey the terrain outside of their own backyard.

Remember, I’m not only a teacher (who has the year off, is not presently employed and is therefore not representing any state or any school district) but a parent as well. I don’t believe that my own children will get “do-overs” once NCLB and its testing malpractice(s) are shown to have succeeded in obliterating both the pros AND cons of our public school system. My children will be out of school, and hopefully in college, surrounded by other problem solvers, knowledge-lovers and big thinkers who survived in spite of NCLB, while younger students still in junior high and high school will be doing all they can to just make it through. How many students that reach basic proficiency through today’s drill and kill testing practices are really going to be motivated to attend or adequately prepared for a college’s or university’s rigorous curriculum?

Looking to the future, it’s probable that should my children decide to study Education while in college, they’ll take classes on the history of education, education reform, testing and assessment, etc. I suspect that college professors and other education analysts will tell future teachers that NCLB (and all of its programs, those based on punitive measures AND rewards) was one of the biggest and most successful tools used to control our country. Maybe my crystal ball is a bit cloudy, maybe my vision is a bit off, maybe I’ve had too much coffee… but WHAT IF…

What if the NCLB machine was engineered to make sure enough children failed? No, not every school, or every child. When enough students fail, the school puts canned programs into place that are not only endorsed but mandated by NCLB. When students continue to fail (and some always will, sorry to burst your Pollyanna bubble), for whatever reasons, school environments are taken over and restructured completely, and parents, if they so choose, can move their children to schools that have made AYP (Adequate Yearly Progress). “But what about those schools that have received accolades and rewards and who proudly advertise their school’s report card that PROVES they’ve made adequate yearly progress? Doesn’t that mean that at least those schools are succeeding thanks to NCLB?” Uh, maybe.

Let’s assume those beribboned and shiny gold star schools are accurately reporting their test scores. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the teachers are providing your child with the most comprehensive and well-rounded educational experience possible: it means that students have been taught enough to pass a single test. And guess what, if that gold star school honestly continues to do well while neighboring schools fail, the students from the failing school get to overcrowd Gold Star Elementary, increasing class size, bringing their less-than-proficient scores with them, thus increasing the chance that the school will lose ribbons and gold stars in the future. Yep, in giving schools those fun little awards, the government goes out of its way to make it more difficult for those schools to continue to succeed, though somehow most parents feel placated when told, “don’t worry, your child can go to the good school now,” and don’t think too much past their own reassurance. For those who need an analogy:

Imagine a weight lifter. Strengthening his body, monitoring his diet, trying to make it to the next competition. He pushes himself, hopefully safely, by adding more weight, making his muscles stronger over time. He can bench press two hundred pounds, two hundred twenty five, two hundred fifty, three hundred, three-fifty, four hundred, success after success. Five hundred, six hundred, more. Believe it or not, there will come a time when someone puts enough weight on the lifter that no matter his training/development or his previous successes or trophies, he will not be able to lift it. Ever. Pick up the truck. Pick up the house. Pick up the weight equivalent to a neighborhood block. You can’t. You failed! YOU FAILED. Gee, how did *that* happen? Guess you need us to take over.

Tsk, tsk.

Another thought that today’s intake of cookies and coffee have fired off in my brain is this: If the NCLB machine has indeed been created to guarantee that all schools eventually fail, wouldn’t those beribboned and gold starred schools that continue to blatantly “succeed” no matter how much weight is dumped onto their own weight bars be easily spotted and eventually identified as deserving of investigation? Of, perhaps, misreporting their assessment scores? Of altering test administration? Of cheating? It would certainly be a red flag to me if I made sure everyone would fail (gradually of course, don’t want to tip people off), and one little upstart continued to succeed no matter what. In fact, if I were a real mastermind, I would have made sure that ribbons and gold stars were mandated as rewards BY ME, as my failsafe catch-all. Everyone would be on my radar, easy and clear targets.

Maybe my children will choose to study architecture in college instead. Maybe I should try a more well-balanced breakfast in the morning. Maybe it’s time for that grocery shopping I’m supposed to be doing today.

Tags: education, family, NCLB, rant

It’s February, but there is something I’m *not* loving at the moment… the all-encompassing FEAR that many/most (if not all) of us have felt for quite some time now. Fear of terrorists, fear of our children “being left behind,” fear of immigrants, fear of gender, fear of race… interesting how we’ve allowed ourselves to be steered in this direction.

Living in the Bordertown gives me visual reminders of fear everyday:

Now these homes aren’t in bad shape, nor are any of these located in what’s considered to be a “bad” neighborhood, but their prison “look” is representative of the rest of the community at large. In my opinion, it doesn’t matter if your gates and bars are painted a complementary color to your home, or if you add swirly curly-q’s to them, or try to make them architecturally interesting by making their line follow the architecture of scalloped walls: you’re still locked in behind those bars, and you’re trying to lock everyone else out. Sure, we outsiders see your fence of fear (oh I know, the manufacturers call it a “security fence”), but you know what? When you’re looking out of your window, so do you. Must be a great view.

Fear.

Somehow, we can deny entry into our country to any music star who might have a drug conviction, but we can’t keep terror cells outside of our own borders. And just when you try to return to Mom, baseball, and apple pie, someone somewhere decides that 9/11 footage should be shown AGAIN. How’s your adrenaline?

Blanket statements about immigration ignore those newbies to our country who came here the “right way,” legally obtaining citizenship. Instead, we’re fed information from a different slant. Many statements (usually racist) made about how all of “our” jobs are being lost, our school/health/welfare systems are overburdened by non-citizens, etc. Riled up yet? Oh wait, is that….adrenaline again?

As a teacher, I resent the fact that many people in this country have bought into fearing me, fearing that I might “leave your child behind.” In twelve years of teaching, somehow I’ve morphed from trusted guide and awesome kindergarten teacher to “She-Who-Must-be-Doubted-and-Feared.” No, my intense interest in finger paint, glue sticks, and songs by Raffi is actually not an indicator of substandard or inappropriate teaching practices. Really. Surprised?

I value my ability to put food on my childrens’ plates, clothes on their backs and someday, Uncle Sam willing, a long-term roof over their heads. I’ve spent a lot of time, a lot of money, and a lot of effort obtaining knowledge from a college I didn’t have to attend in order to learn how to teach well. I complement my educational expertise with ongoing training in child/parental psychology, health and nutrition guidance, nurse/EMT training, multi-cultural awareness, sociology and communications, technological advances, and a slew of other areas of specialty, again, so that I can do my job well. I utilize developmentally appropriate practices and I believe children are very different from adults (and should be allowed to be so).

In my classroom you’ll see children BEING CHILDREN, learning through experience and exploration, expressing themselves, sharing, laughing, singing, and yes full-day-kindergarten-advocates, taking naps. Sorry folks, but no matter what politicians or testing company CEO’s try to tell you, duct taping students’ fannies to their chairs multiple times per week to assess their knowledge gained actually results in kiddos spending less time participating in activities and experiences that enhance and facilitate their learning.

Stop. Think. Breathe. You can understand this one, really. If you have to take your kids to soccer, then to the store to get new pants, then over to the dentist’s for an appointment, then over to the bank to deposit a check, how are you putting your family’s photo album together at home? And when? If you keep taking kids away from their teacher, and keep making them spend extra time on math and reading in isolation in order to pass a single test, when are they going to learn how to play an instrument (which by the way, would offer yet another way for a child to have an “a-ha moment” in regard to both math and reading!), have time to explore literary genres, or learn a foreign language and exercise their bodies? After school? Uh, honey, check the newest after-school activity list: here in the Bordertown you won’t find band, babysitting, or computers. You’ll find TAKS TUTORING. When did you decide that it was okay to no longer value your child’s creativity? His or her inner song? Interests? Gifts? Mental, physical, and emotional health? Did you learn best by sitting in a chair, day in and out, in a room filled with silence, or are your most vivid memories of learning filled with sights, sounds, textures, smells, exertion, emotion, and interest?

Someone told us to be scared. And we bought it.

What other messages of fear have you been fed lately? Which ones have you gulped down, hook, line and sinker? And to whom has it been of benefit?

Questions to ponder… I know, they’ll tick some of you off:

What’s the big threat, really, of having a president whose anatomy includes breasts and a vagina? Same goes for a male president whose family tree doesn’t solely include ancestors who were Elmer’s Glue “white.” A president represents his or her entire nation, all colors, sexes, creeds, and beliefs. In order to do so, s/he must have a diverse background, advisers who are paradigm shifters, and the ability to understand that the most honest answers (and best solutions to problems) will come from going straight to each horse’s mouth. Please stop talking to CEO’s and other salespeople about how I should be doing my job. Talk to child advocates, other teachers, parents, and children. Fame does not equal credibility. Donald Trump and Bill Gates may be Googled more than I am, but that doesn’t mean they could do my job better than I do it. Their business models are MODELS FOR BUSINESS, not for teaching and guiding young children in ways that will enable them to lead enriched, expressive, generous and tolerant lives.

Presidents aren’t perfect, they’re human, and will make some mistakes. But isn’t it time to have hope again- hope that our president will stop serving a single agenda, and stop steering us with fear? We’re not just a nation at war. Americans are starving, we are homeless, we are displaced. We have no health care. Our environment is suffering, a lot of people are depressed. And we are allowing ourselves to be herded like sheep with scare tactics.

Eek! A woman! Eek! Someone with brown skin! Eek! Someone who isn’t a teacher has told us to be afraid of education! Eek! A Republican! Eek! A Democrat! Eek, someone whose marital decisions entitle little ol’ me to judge them! Eek, a veteran! Eek, a non-veteran! Eek, someone whose religious practices don’t match my own! Eek, a person who doesn’t photograph well! Eek, change!

Any idea why our nation’s enemies find us so deserving of their attention? Why we are viewed as predictable and easily-targeted drones? Oh, go ahead spin doctors… our nation is the strongest in the world, our American way of life is awe-inspiring, so other countries and cultures fear us and our strength and our divine right to demand compliance from them, er, our desire that they accept our generous gift of democracy, yadda yadda yadda…

Sweethearts, I’m an American woman with a multi-cultural background who teaches students in our public educational system. I’m a mother, and I’m the proud wife of a United States soldier. Members of my father’s family are considered “indigenous” people, meaning they were here on this continent, living on the land that is part of our present nation, long before my mother’s family arrived on the boat. I would be proud if my children chose to serve in the military, and I would proud if they chose to become doctors, mechanics, computer techs, non-fiction writers, woodworkers, or rocket scientists. I appreciate the fact that it is your tax dollars that move and house me and my family with each new military assignment my husband receives, but I also know that it’s my family’s tax dollars moving and supporting us too.

Hope isn’t frivolous. Hope isn’t a fad. And regardless of what you’ve been told, Hope isn’t going to bring our enemies “into our backyards.” We can be a nation of hope, and have a strong, capable, and appropriately equipped military to defend it. We can be a nation of hope, and provide our children with the best education possible (once we stop taking money away from our students to give it to corporations- yes, I said “students,”not “schools”). We can be a nation of hope and require that all immigrants join us legally. We can be a nation of hope and of health and provide for ourselves as much as our political-correctness inspires us to demonstrate care for others.

It’s time hope returned to our nation. I VOTE FOR HOPE.

Candidates, please deliver, regardless of your political party’s affiliation. All of America is your party.

Tags: Bordertown, NCLB, rant

I have a teacher voice. A mommy voice too. Being a kindergarten teacher and mother means that my “voice” doesn’t match the voice of a drill sergeant, doesn’t match the voice of a ticked off assistant principal in a high school, and certainly doesn’t match the voice of an assertive police officer in a touchy situation. I have to *explain* as I make a request, because the young ones I tend to deal with don’t have as much background knowledge or frames of reference that will clue them in quickly to what I need modified or addressed. Emergency situations are an entirely different matter, as no one misses or ignores any tone I use with alarm, and no one needs an explanation before trying to determine if they feel any motivation to respond as quickly as possible when they hear me use it.

We attended my daughter’s Christmas band concert this evening. It might have been an enjoyable event if only the audience’s behavior wasn’t such a long, drawn out train wreck. My blood pressure rose as my anticipation of my daughter’s performance plummeted. Teens and their siblings ran through the audience in the gym, running up to orchestra and band members snapping pictures on cell phones as the performers were warming up and tuning their instruments. Parents loudly chatted, played with cell phone ringers (no, they weren’t turning them off), and ignored their offsprings’ shouts, inappropriate comments and choice of vocabulary. I withstood four hits to the back of my head from teens running up and down the bleachers, not a single apology uttered once. Full-fledged conversations were being had in regular speaking voices throughout the first two musical pieces performed, and those of us who turned around to look at the chatters got rolled eyes, laughter and pointing as a response. Finally, I put my hand on a student’s foot (he had been kicking my side tapping his foot offbeat to the music) and whispered “Sweetheart, it’s not your turn to talk or make noise, it’s your turn to listen.” I followed it with a smile, and received a quick blush and nod in return.

My teacher voice worked on one student out of nine. You see, once young Master Foot was seen correcting his behavior, his cronies had to get louder and more obnoxious, perhaps in some attempt to avenge his honor. And every parent around me *let it go.* I watched a handful of other parents try to move inconspicuously away from other obnoxious teens and children, to no avail. There was no escape, no quiet area where we could listen for our child’s solo, listen to inspiring music, or enjoy the progress the band had made since the beginning of the year. I just about left the concert in tears, only because my other reaction would have been to have taken children by the collars to their parents and demanded an answer to “what the he** are you thinking?!?!?!?!?!”

I spent the first ten years of my life in this very Bordertown, living on the “poor” side of the mountain, maybe a mile from where we’re posted now, so I know it wasn’t always like this. I remember when the haves and the have nots equally spent time raising children to be welcome. Immigrant or local, English-only, Spanish-only, or bilingual speakers, all parents, grandparents, and neighbors encouraged (required!) children to say “please, thank you,” and “apologies.” “Excuse me,” “no thank you,” yes Ma’am, yes Sir,” were also regularly heard and rewarded with “what good manners you have!” Young children were left with babysitters, children old enough to attend performances were expected to sit still, save questions for later, and make necessary comments quietly. They understood the audience wasn’t there to see them, they were there to see the performers. Every school-aged child in the district attended two theater performances a year as a district requirement, and yes, we knew the expectations our teachers and families had of us. No longer, apparently.

As a side note, I’ll offer that it’s difficult to keep an audience on track and engaged when both the band and orchestra directors apparently have no clue when it comes to the choreography required when beginning, intermediate, and advanced musicians all perform on the same night, in this case, on the same gym floor. I’m fairly certain my old orchestra teacher, Mr. H., has passed on, and is probably rolling in his grave. If Mr. A. is still alive and kicking, he’s certainly been admitted to the Looney Bin by now if he’s witnessed performances like this, by both students and directors alike.

So, using my teacher voice, here are some suggestions (not that the local teens, teachers, parents, or musical directors care):

1) Please learn that there are times when it’s your turn to talk, and times when it’s your turn to listen. You don’t always get to choose which times happen when. Consideration isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of respect, respect you’ll receive in return.

2) Even if no one has formally taught you how to behave at concerts, plays, debates, worship services, or meetings, it’s okay to read the cues provided by the seemingly more reflective, calm, and observant audience members, and follow their lead. No, Joey belching out the alphabet during a band performance of the Hallelujah Chorus is not the best choice of role model. Sorry.

3) There is a difference between a musical or theatrical performance and a pep rally. Therefore there is a difference between the behaviors demonstrated at those events. Figure out the difference, and behave accordingly.

4) Just because your sister told you that Mary Jane was going to dye her hair blue before a concert doesn’t mean that once you get to said concert you need to shout out at EVERY inopportune time “HEY MARY JANE, LOVE THE DOPE HAIR! WOOT WOOT!” Either quietly admire the hair, or laugh about it under your breath, but either way, talk to Mary Jane AFTER the concert please. She’ll wait. Really.

5) School band concerts are actually not precursors to American Idol audience tapings, Jerry Springer reruns, or reality show soap operas. If you’re in the audience, I’m sorry, but it’s not about *you*. It’s about the people who have practiced, learned, developed and are sitting on stage now sharing with others. You don’t get the stage, therefore you don’t get the attention. It’s not your turn all of the time, no matter what You Tube, MySpace, and your lazy or absent parents have led you to believe.

6) Band and orchestra directors, when you’re rotating different groups of performers in and out of the performance or “stage” areas, *stop rearranging the furniture* and taking twelve minutes (yes, TWELVE) to rotate thirteen students out and twenty-three students in. It’s very easy. Set up ALL of the chairs and music stands you’re going to need. Then either choose to seat ALL band members, regardless of skill level together on stage, with students only performing when it’s their turn (yes, those not performing are capable of sitting quietly with their instruments across their laps), OR center the beginning group in the middle of the seats, leaving the extras empty, and then have them all walk off, row by row, to the left after their performance while the next group of students is walking on-stage, row by row, from the right. If the next group is bigger, they’ll take up more seats, but can still seat themselves center stage. Takes a *little* practice, but the end result is faster, safer, more efficient, and more professional than the thudding, crashing, and bashing of chairs, stands, and instruments (!), and the barking of directions to students too nervous to be listening and understanding clearly.

TWELVE MINUTES? No *wonder* you couldn’t get the audience back for the closing pieces! DOPE HAIR, MARY JANE!!!!!

Oh wait, that wasn’t my teacher voice, was it?

Tags: Bordertown, rant