Sensible Syllables

Several years ago, while teaching a poetry unit, I handed out a formatting worksheet for the students to use to write a haiku. My standard practice is never to ask anyone to do that which I am not willing to do myself, so I modeled the use of the worksheet by writing my own haiku, which I recently found in a stack of "what should I do with this" papers.

Education

Students in the rows
Watch me like a T.V. set.
Engage: don't observe!

In 17 syllables, I summarized my philosophy of education: the student has to participate for the process to work.

It's time for the annual exit exam debacle, with districts, site admin, and teachers in an absolute frenzy of preparation geared toward one goal: to make sure that students pass the test, especially seniors, who cannot graduate without passing both the English and the math. The clock is ticking for the Class of 2008.

However, that's the problem in my mind: the district, the site admin and the teachers bear the brunt of failure, not the students! Students who cruise through school, doing the bare minimum, attending when they feel like it and refusing to complete homework assignments that cut into their personal time become the focus of the frenzy. The students who are there, who are participating in the process, usually don't have to worry about whether they will pass the test because it's an 8th grade level skills' test and the test is given for the first time in 10th grade.

The student who does not attend, who does not engage, who does not participate will not pass the test--and should not pass the test. It is NOT the fault of the institution, of the teacher, of the curriculum: it is a choice made both by the student and the parent who refuses to do the daily job of monitoring attendance, checking homework, listening to reading assignments, signing worksheets, requesting weekly progress reports. A passive parent often nurtures a passive student, and when it comes down to the wire and the student is not going to graduate, they both blame the system, rather than accepting their own failure to perform.

Districts, sites, and teachers can throw time, effort, and financial resources at these students ad infinitum, but these students often effectively quit school about the 7th grade. Is the institution required to go back and recreate the educational experience for the student who has been in abstentia for 4-5 years? I don’t think so, but that’s what’s happening.

I laughed when my former district paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to purchase software programs guaranteed to skill and drill (senior) students to pass the exit exam. Computers were dedicated to the process, teachers were trained and paid extra to mentor the remedial sessions, ad campaigns sold the entire package to the parents--but the students didn't show up! The computers sat idle; the teachers waited for the hungry masses to log on; the parents complacently waited for confirmation of the passing score--but the students who don't attend school, who don't complete homework assignments, who don't write essays, who don't participate in the educational process also don't show up for tutoring.

The educational process cannot be passive observation: it must be active participation. Until students not only realize the difference, but are held accountable for their own failure to be part of the solution, rather than being the problem, nothing is going to change.

Howlin' Good Time

The family behind me has at least 2 new dogs, but judging from the sound, it could be more than that. I have no idea what breed of dogs these are, but I do know that every time an emergency vehicle runs with sirens, these dogs howl loudly enough to drown out the sirens!

Sound travels in the desert; hence, I usually have to keep my front door closed because I can hear other people’s music from several surrounding blocks, especially if it’s either a live band or a pumped up stereo system from a car parked in the driveway with the door left open for the concert. I literally cannot hear my own TV from the couch when some of these music fans are listening to their music! A couple of times I’ve walked to the house and asked that the music be turned down and, so far (thankfully), the neighbors have been cooperative. Usually, however, it’s just easier to keep the front door closed and turn up the TV, or retire to my room with a good book and TiVo what I wanted to watch.

There are also a couple of emergency responders in the neighborhood, as well as a major thoroughfare about 6 blocks due west, on which the majority of emergency responses either occur or take as the fastest route to the location. The noise from sirens is loud, very loud, and the new neighborhood dogs drown it out. The dogs don’t stop baying until they no longer can hear the sirens, so they can howl for a steady 5 minutes!

I’ve never complained about dogs barking because I want my dog to bark when there are other animals in the yard or people on the street. I like Mia’s early warning system and take heed when she barks in the middle of the night, especially if she won’t shut up or come into the house. I have called the police based on her barking a couple of times, and wished I had her when the burglar broke my window several years ago.

Therefore, I won’t complain about the baying dogs, but it is truly annoying when they crank up the volume. I may not be as nice if I have to contend with both the howling dogs and the wailin' music simultaneously. That combo would surely violate the sound ordnance!

Cha-Ching!!!

A friend and I enjoyed the "all you can eat" buffet at the casino downtown today, an always delicious decision for lunch. I topped off my high protein/low carb meal with a generous slice of sugar-free cheesecake, which was good, but there is no way to obtain that substantial rich, creamy cheesecake texture and taste without sugar.

On the way out, I flashed my $20 bill brought along for the gambling. I don't like to waste money, but ya never know if today's the day--ya know what I mean?

The first machine, a nickle machine, took me down to $14.50, at which time I printed my chit and went looking for another challenge. I found a quarter machine that was not being used, so inputted my credit for $14.50 and got down to serious business.

I watched the pot dwindle to just under $6 when CHA-CHING! I hit a triple whatever that took me all the way to $36.00! Yippee!

No fool I, I hit "pay out" and walked out with $16 free money in my pocket, nestled next to my original $20 gambling pot. When the doorman opened the door for me, I acknowledged that he must have known right off I was leaving a BIG winner for the day--to which he agreed with a huge smile on his face.

Yeah, it's living good in the neighborhood.

Get a Queue

For some people, the power of personal entitlement is their driving force, and it demands that lesser individuals (read me) step to the side so they can actualize their self needs and meet their goals—at my expense, if need be.

This morning I set aside for my blood work, fasting blood sugar to check my A1c, which happens every 3 months. I left the house at 7 AM to be in line when the lab opened at 7:30, and was a bit put out to realize at 7:15 that the doors don’t open until 8 AM on Saturday (6:30 AM during the week). Oh, well, I’m reading a good book, so I sat on the wall outside the lab to wait. It wasn’t long before I was joined by 3 others who also thought the lab opened at 7:30, so we talked as the lines behind us grew longer as the time crept toward 8 AM.

At about 7:55, a woman arrived with 2 boys in tow, stepped in front of me, and created a new front of the line, a brazen act indeed. I’m not sure what she processed about the more than 2 dozen individuals in the line behind me, but her step-up to the front was clearly not to be questioned.

Except, of course, by me.

“If you think you’re going to cut the line, you may want to reconsider your decision,” I told her. “All of us standing in line have been here for at least 1/2 hour, and we are not going to take kindly to your wanting to be first in the door.”

She looked at me dismissively, and said, “You don’t understand. My son here is a real bad diabetic who’s been fasting and needs his blood work done so he can go eat.”

“Really,” I said, then turned to the line and asked, “Who is a fasting diabetic waiting for blood work this morning?”

That would be almost everyone waiting in line, judging by the show of hands.

“Okay,” she said, “I get it,” and turned away to talk to her boys. She directed her sons to go to the end of the line—and then started down the line one person at a time until she was able to find the weakest link to let her take cuts. She signed in about 9th, rather than waiting her turn from the last spot in line.

It’s okay for someone else to let her into the line—but then that person should have gone to the end. That person didn’t ask all the others behind her how they felt about adding to the middle of the line, putting them back one turn. That person just assumed she would be nice and let the poor little boy get his bloodwork done—but didn’t consider the other fasting diabetic people behind her who also wouldn’t eat until their bloodwork was done.

What irritates me more, however, is that the mother’s assumption that her needs were more important than anyone else standing in line was validated not just by the person who allowed her to cut the line, but by every other person in line who also let it be okay.

I’ll stand up for myself, but if you won’t stand up for yourself, then you get what you get.

The lesson to the sons was powerful: do not let anyone tell you that you have to go to the end of the line. If you can't get to the front of the line by arriving early and waiting for the doors to open, just work the crowd: someone will let you go ahead of them if that's what you tell them to believe ...

and why would anyone willingly wait at the back of the line if they can make themselves the front of the line with so little effort?

My Turn

If class weren’t canceled next week for in-service, I would have stayed home tonight, but it’s a challenge to get back on track with one forced canceled class: to have 2 in a row would be difficult to overcome. Thus, I drove up the hill, sneezing, sniffling, coughing, blowing—and feeling like crap.

Of course, I looked lovely, too, with the rosy raccoon mask caused by the abrasions from the box of Puffs facial tissue I have dragged across my face for the past several days. The bloodshot, swollen eyes are such a striking accessory for any bloated, scratched red face so typical of the advanced stages of a cold.

I did stop at the pharmacy and pick up several otc remedies, but 2 hours after gulping the capsules, all the symptoms came roaring back. I excused myself, took more of the miracle cure, and returned to class to make the heroic effort to see the bitter end of the night. When students finished the in-class assignment 15 minutes early, I was delighted!

Thankfully, it’s easier to drive the 45 miles home with the cold symptoms than it is to teach a class, so I made the driveway without incident. Upon entering the living room, I began stripping off my sweat-dampened work clothes, preferring a quick rinse and the flannel jammies. I ate yet another in the endless cans of chicken-flavored soups varieties that I keep on hand, then thawed a strip steak and added it to my system as I’ve pretty much only had soup since last Saturday morning!

I don’t feel better, but at least I’m in the privacy of my own home, rather than standing before 15 students who now have to worry about getting what the teacher has. Of course, last week it was several of them coughing and sneezing on me, so it was simply a matter of time before it was my turn at the cold.

I am so hoping that I feel one thousand percent better before journeying back up the hill for tomorrow’s class …

Addendum: Never Saw This Coming

After basically sleeping for 3 days and nights with nary a twitch, I found myself wide awake after returning from class and still unable to fall asleep at 3 AM. This will add another layer of coping to what already was going to be a long day all on its own.