tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-969612676388700012024-03-08T15:35:48.396-05:00The Yellow BusThere they go...Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-75467931097093259932013-08-30T09:35:00.000-04:002013-08-30T09:35:41.608-04:00Judgement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So yesterday I came across <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2013/08/private_school_vs_public_school_only_bad_people_send_their_kids_to_private.html">this article</a>, which reads like something I might post here, and I promptly posted it to my facebook page where it proceeded to generate more heated discussion than probably anything I've ever posted before. Understand that I choose my facebook friends very carefully - only people I am actually friends with - so typically my liberal-firecracker rants are met with resounding cheers. This was different. People were skeptical. They were defensive, and even offended. They felt attacked because, unbeknownst to me, some of them actually send their children to private schools.<br />
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They said things like, "I know you're not really this judgmental." Well, guess what, yes I am. I am judging you for believing that your child deserves better than most of the rest of the children in the country just because you can afford it. I am judging you for your willful failure to understand that your choice in this has an impact beyond your immediate family, and that you are responsible for that impact whether you like it or not. And I am judging you because you are <i>not</i> a self-interested jerk and you are plenty smart and the only reason you don't see this as a problem is that you won't look it in the face. I get it. You're scared for your kid. Know what? Me too. But it's not about <i>our</i> kids. It's about <i>all</i> kids.<br />
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Public school is like public health - your choices ripple out beyond you. When you don't get your kid vaccinated, you put everyone else's kids at risk, and that is selfish and unfair. When you don't send your kid to public school, you erode that system and weaken it for everyone else's kids, and that is also selfish and unfair. Do I know that the public school system is broken? Hell yes, I know. I went through it. I'm putting my kids through it. Sometimes it's not pretty - read almost any post on this site and you can see that. I fight the big battles (testing, arts education) and, if I have any energy left, I fight the medium ones too (recess, homework). I'm too exhausted to fight the small ones (behavior charts, school lunches), and you know what? It would be great to have some backup.<br />
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So yeah. I'm judging. I'm judging because you're wrong and it really, really matters. Engagement, not disengagement, is the answer.<br />
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Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-61458152827856858882013-06-05T11:11:00.000-04:002013-06-05T11:11:35.498-04:00Awards<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Finally - the last day of school. Burn the planners, throw out the disgusting lunch boxes, turn off the alarms. It's been weeks since I asked my kids if they have homework because, as Jen Hatmaker <a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever">so eloquently put it</a>, I no longer care. Papers come into the house and go directly into the bin. Oops, was that a math facts practice sheet? Whatever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But. Yesterday they both came home waving their end-of-year awards, which could not be ignored. My kids do really well on standardized tests - one of life's little jokes, I guess - and the school gave out awards to students who scored above certain cutoffs on the Measures of Academic Progress tests. The MAP, as it's known, was recently made infamous by a group of Seattle public school teachers who <a href="http://seattletimes.com/html/localnews/2020678255_maptestswebxml.html">refused to administer it</a>. Booyah, Seattle. My kids take the MAP three times a year and, apparently, blow it out of the water. "It's kind of fun, Mom," is pretty much a direct quote from Lucy. Oh, the irony.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Anyway. So they take these tests, which they do not give two shits about, and they do really well, which I do not give two shits about, and the school... rewards them for that? For what? For being smart? I mean, it's not like they work to get those scores. <i>At all</i>. They haven't even been doing their homework, remember? What is this teaching them, exactly? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But - okay. A reward for doing well without trying. Fine. There are bigger battles. Oh! Look! Here's one now! What about all the kids who </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">don't</i><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> get those scores? Is the school implying that they somehow failed to work hard enough? Because that is some bullshit right there. They're children! I can tell you with certainty that they are doing the best they can, and that the last thing they need is to be told, even implicitly, that it's not good enough. And yet here is how this reward system works: all the kids in the school go to an assembly. Those with high scores get a certificate, or two, or three. And <i>then the kids who got the certificates get ice cream and the other kids don't</i>. WTF?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">There are so many problems with this that it's hard to decide which to pick out first. In addition to the implication that the kids who didn't score high enough did something wrong, we have the complete abandonment of the concept of community. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Want your friends to celebrate your achievements with you? TOO BAD! They're not smart enough. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Want to celebrate your friends' achievements with them? TOO BAD! You should be smarter. In fact, what we'd really like is for you to resent your friends while you feel bad about yourself. And I won't even go into the consequences for student (and teacher) anxiety about the test itself. Kids sometimes throw up or wet their pants before these tests. I mean, I ask you. Why are their parents not rioting in the streets?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">And while this is an extreme example, it's indicative of the way rewards for academic achievement are skewed across the board. When you excel academically, the reward is supposed to be... that you excelled academically! You know, you <i>learned stuff</i>! But no - we offer certificates, and ice cream, and cheap plastic toys as rewards. And in so doing, we teach both the kids who get the rewards and the kids who don't that learning is not sufficiently rewarding in itself, which is the real tragedy. But I've already ranted about that in <a href="http://ridetheyellowbus.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html">other posts</a>, so I'll stop.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Parents were invited to this award ceremony. I didn't go. Ben asked me why and, being me, I told him. He thought about it. "Yeah," he said, "I think probably the kids who didn't do good on the tests need the ice cream even more." There it is.</span><br />
<br />Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-2211202429828169392013-01-31T17:15:00.000-05:002013-01-31T17:15:35.960-05:00Boy Scouts<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To the Boy Scouts of America:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am married to an Eagle Scout and am the mother of an 8-year-old Cub Scout. My husband has been active in scouting for as long as he has been old enough, including regional and national leadership roles, a stint working at Philmont, and receipt of what seems to me essentially every award you offer. He is now an Assistant Scout Master with the troop that is affiliated with our son's pack. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two years ago, when my son started Cubs, I was hesitant to allow it. I find your anti-gay policy morally abhorrent, and I did not want my son exposed to such bigotry. My husband, who also hates the policy, convinced me that the Scouts were more than that, and that indeed the policy was outdated and no longer an issue. He had had such a positive experience with Scouts that he wanted it for our son as well. So I agreed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I'm sure you can see where this is going. Imagine our horror when, less than a year later, you reaffirmed your stance in a burst of incomprehensible posturing about morality. What? How could it be that this organization, with legitimate claims to moral authority in so many areas, could make so grave and consequential an error of judgement? We couldn't believe it. What was wrong with you? Didn't you know that you were out of touch on this? No, apparently you did not know. Either that or you were being controlled by other interests, which is an almost equally horrifying prospect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think I can safely say that this issue has caused more friction in my marriage over the last 12 months than all other issues combined in the 12 years before that. My husband is saddened and disappointed in you, the way one would be in a beloved relative who has committed a crime. I, however, having no previous relationship with you, merely find it inexcusable. For me, it's a deal breaker.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hesitate to say that I am pleased with your decision to reconsider your position, because in an ideal world the Scouts would take a leadership role in condemning discrimination in any form. You would refuse to allow any group who discriminates on any basis to be affiliated with you. However, let us not allow the perfect to be the enemy of the good. To the extent that this move would mean that gay boys are not routed out, and that gay parents are not refused the right to volunteer with their children's troops, I am all for it. Do it. But don't stop there. Please.</span><br />
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Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-40532188630527460082011-12-20T21:03:00.000-05:002011-12-20T21:03:50.565-05:00Girl Scouts<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, I know, it's been a long time. So long that I've forgotten what my default font is, so I apologize if this doesn't match my previous posts. </span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, yesterday I'm minding my own business surfing the web when I get an email from Lucy's Girl Scout leader, who is actually a lovely person and, it must be said, is doing a job I would never in a million years want to do. So automatically she gets an extra 100 yards of slack, at least. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This email informs me that I will need to stay at the Girl Scout meeting that night, because the Cookie Mom is going to explain about selling cookies to all the parents. This is a little bit of a pain in the ass, because I had planned to have John drop Lucy off at GS on his way to another meeting, which means he won't be able to stay, which means I'll have to take her after all. Still, as pains in the ass go, this is not even the biggest one that day, so no big deal. Far more concerning is the implication that the cookie selling will be explained </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">to the parents.</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So we show up at the meeting (five minutes late, sorry, sorry) and Lucy hustles off with the other girls to work on constructing Christmas tree ornaments out of toothpicks, or some other equally valuable skill. I, meanwhile, am waved over to the Parent Table (or, more accurately, the Mom Table, with one dogged Dad sitting off to the side looking too exhausted to be offended by the genderedness of it all). There the Cookie Mom is explaining all the Important Cookie Information, like how to fill out the order form and not to knock on strangers' doors and how to take donations for our troop's charity, which by the way we need to choose. And all this time I am thinking one thing, which is that <i>I am not a Girl Scout.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally we get to the part where she tells us that we have to set the individual selling goals for the girls and the total selling goal for the whole troop, and I just can't take it anymore. "Um," I say, "shouldn't we be discussing this with the girls?" I say this in what I hope is a casual and offhand way but probably comes off as judgmental and bossy, because hey, it's me. They all look stunned. Discuss it with the girls? Why? Oh, I don't know. Because it's <i>their troop</i> and <i>they're the ones selling the cookies </i>to earn money for <i>their troop</i> and I thought the whole point of Girl Scouts was to teach girls independence and responsibility and of course to make Christmas tree ornaments out of toothpicks but really isn't the independence and responsibility just a teeny bit more important? I can't help but imagine Juliette Gordon Low sobbing in despair as she watches the parents set goals while their daughters attend to the important work of gluing bits of sponge onto poker chips (don't ask).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Cookie Mom, to her credit, says that yes, that's a good idea. We should run all this by the girls. We should come up with the goals first, though, because they're not really able to set their own goals. Plus, another mom points out, we're the ones selling the cookies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wait, what?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, I understand that taking the cookie order form to the office is a time-honored tradition, having ordered many cookies that way myself before I had a Girl Scout of my own. And I had already made a mental note to take advantage of another mom's suggestion to post on facebook. But, fundamentally, isn't this supposed to be a girl-driven project? Aren't they supposed to be the ones invested in it, planning it and making it happen? And if they can't set their own goals, well, isn't that part of what they're supposed to <i>learn</i> from an activity like this?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because, let me tell you, that would be a fantastic thing for them to learn, and I'm not just saying that as someone who would like to think that her daughter might someday be able to schedule her own doctor's appointments and do her own grocery shopping. No, I'm saying it as someone who deals on an almost daily basis with nearly-grown-up kids who <i>can't </i>do those things. Kids who have no concept of how to set goals, let alone achieve them. Kids who have never really worked at anything, who often seem to not even understand what that might mean. Kids who, in spite of never working hard, have never failed, either, and are so risk-averse that I feel like telling Occupy Wall Street to just wait a few years because there's no pipeline in place to replace those Wall Street people anyway. Too risky. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I won't lie. I'm disappointed in the Girl Scouts. From a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Here-Come-Girl-Scouts-Adventure/dp/0545342783/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324432435&sr=8-1">noble beginning</a> rooted in empowering girls, they have degenerated into a cookie-selling machine in which the girls don't even get to sell the cookies. But really, they're just following the crowd. I can't remember the last time I was at an activity for children that didn't involve parents hanging over the backs of chairs "helping". Parents often seem physically unable to drop their children off somewhere and, you know, <i>leave.</i> But I'll tell you what, we'd better start insisting that they do, or we are really screwed. Wall Street isn't the only thing that's going down if we don't start raising our kids with an eye toward their someday being adults.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Come on, Girl Scouts. Let's get ahead of the curve on this one. </span></div>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-27362196126769636742010-08-26T13:05:00.003-04:002010-08-31T13:26:34.021-04:00BreakfastThe kids are at a new school this year. To make a long (very long) story somewhat less long, there was a county-wide redistrict, and it turns out that we were one of the families who had to switch. So now instead of going down the mountain to a small, overcrowded rural school, we go up the mountain to a small, under-enrolled rural school. Frankly, although many of my neighbors will tell you otherwise, it's not a very big change.<br /><br />Except for breakfast.<br /><br />The new school has a higher percentage of students in the free lunch program than the old school did (and yes, this is the root of the reason my neighbors are so upset). This puts the school over some arbitrary threshold set by the federal government and means, among other things, that the school also has to provide free breakfast. <span style="font-style: italic;">To every child in the school. </span>That's right, <span style="font-style: italic;">every child</span>, even the ones who ate breakfast at home. Oh, sure, a parent may forbid her child from eating the breakfast. A parent may even notify the classroom teacher of this prohibition and the classroom teacher will have to enforce it. (Sounds like a good way to get off on the right foot with a teacher, doesn't it?) But the default is to offer all the kids breakfast when they walk into the room in the morning.<br /><br />On the surface, this may seem like a fine idea. So the kids eat an extra bowl of oatmeal when they get to school in the morning. Big deal. In practice, however, there is no oatmeal on the menu. Pop Tarts, yes. Coco Puffs. Pastries. But no oatmeal.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>So here are my options:<br />1. Look the other way while my children tank up on empty carbohydrates every morning,<br />2. Forbid them from having it and become both Mean Mommy and Problem Parent, or<br />3. Call the county's Director of Food Services and try to get the menu changed.<br /><br />Three guesses which one I picked.<br /><br />The Director of Food Services, like so many of the school system employees who field my complaints, agreed with me in theory. "But," he said, "I'm sure you've seen <a href="http://www.jamieoliver.com/campaigns/jamies-food-revolution">Food Revolution</a>."<br /><br />"Sure," I said, because I wasn't about to trash my credibility by admitting that I don't have a television and instantly being pegged as Crazy Hippie Lady who Probably Feeds Her Children Tofu for Breakfast. Plus, everyone says this to me, so even though I haven't seen it I actually knew what he was talking about.<br /><br />"Well, that's what happens when we offer them healthier options," he said, meaning that the kids refuse to eat those foods. </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>When the school offers, for example, yogurt and fresh fruit, the kids simply don't eat. Since they haven't eaten at home, this means that they don't get any breakfast at all. Furthermore, if they do eat at home they get things that are even worse than those that the school offers. At least the Pop Tarts the school serves are whole grain.<br /><br />"ARGH!" I thought, but did not say. "Well," I did say, "everything we know about children's eating habits tells us that you have to keep offering them healthy foods over and over, and eventually they'll try them."<br /><br />Unsurprisingly, he was familiar with this research. I told you, they all agree with me in theory. "But when they don't eat it, we have to throw it out," he said, "and we don't get reimbursed by the government for meals we don't serve."<br /><br />"AH HA!" I thought, but did not say. "Well," I did say, "um." Because, to tell the truth, I couldn't really think of anything to say to that. Basically, he was telling me that the school system can't afford to provide healthy meals for the students. The free meals program is rigged, in fact, to make this impossible. Children are used to eating sugary, processed foods at home, and therefore that is what they expect at school. When they don't get it, they refuse to eat. When they don't eat, the system doesn't get the money it needs to provide food the next day. Thus, the schools are forced to offer choices that the children are familiar with so that they will eat them and the program will survive. For the school system to break this cycle would require a massive input of resources that it simply does not have.<br /><br />Compounding this problem is the fact that the nutritional guidelines for school lunches (and breakfasts) are woefully out of date. The United States Departments of Agriculture and Health and Human Services are required by federal law to jointly issue updated dietary guidelines at least every five years. The most recent document is from 2005, and a new one is due out this year. But the nutritional requirements set out in the National School Lunch Program (which, curiously, is also administered by the USDA) are based on the guidelines from<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>1995<span style="font-style: italic;">. </span>Why? Good question. To give you an idea of just how long ago 1995 was, those guidelines do not even mention whole grains or trans fats.<br /><br />I told my kids that they have to eat their healthy breakfast at home, and then if they're still hungry they can have some of the school breakfast too. So far, at least according to their reports, they haven't been eating much at school. If that changes, maybe I'll reevaluate. But there's a bigger problem here than just my kids finally finding out what a Pop Tart is. These kids who refuse to eat fruit and yogurt are going to be running things when we're old, and it would be good if they didn't all have type 2 diabetes and chronic heart disease by then. The whole School Lunch Program needs a serious overhaul, starting with the way it's funded and going right down to the Pop Tarts. Get busy, Congress.<br /></span></span></span></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-63097727341395492552010-05-25T13:27:00.002-04:002010-05-25T13:42:48.346-04:00Like I Said<div>Turns out that the Alliance for Childhood (the fact that such an organization even exists speaks volumes, don't you think?) <a href="http://www.allianceforchildhood.org/sites/allianceforchildhood.org/files/file/Joint%20Statement%20on%20Core%20Standards_(418%20).pdf">agrees with my assessment</a> of the Common Core Standards. They have "grave concerns" about the standards, which in their view "conflict with compelling new research in cognitive science, neuroscience, child development, and early childhood education about how young children learn, what they need to learn, and how best to teach them in kindergarten and the early grades." Well, duh.</div><div><br /></div><div>To paraphrase, they are worried that the new standards will:</div><div><ul><li>lead to age-inappropriate types of instruction</li><li>push out play-based learning</li><li>encourage more standardized testing</li><li>leave no time for crucial learning in areas other than reading and math</li></ul><div>Furthermore, they point out that there is no research-based evidence to suggest that teaching this way even works. There is no established link between intensive instruction in discrete academic skills and later success, yet there is clearly established cognitive science indicating that this is not the best way for young children to learn. What <i>is</i> clearly established, of course, is the link between intensive instruction and higher standardized test scores in the short term.</div><div><br /></div><div>Like I said.</div><div><br /></div></div>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-90850592288478313972010-04-28T09:05:00.005-04:002010-04-28T13:20:16.305-04:00Curriculum<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In case you missed it, the draft version of the new </span></span><a href="http://www.corestandards.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Common Core Standards</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> for K-12 education came out last month. The document was developed by the commissioners of education of 48 states plus the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, and the U.S. Virgin Islands, (Alaska and Texas, to answer your question), and its purpose is to set uniform academic expectations for public education across the entire country. According to the authors, "t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">he draft standards... seek to provide a clear and consistent framework to prepare our children for college and the workforce." They "define the knowledge and skills students should have within their K-12 education careers so that they will graduate high school able to succeed in entry-level, credit-bearing academic college courses and in workforce training programs."</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Whether or not this is a laudable goal will be discussed in a moment, but make no mistake that it is a major paradigm shift. Public education as we know it has been around in this country for about 150 years - the first compulsory attendance laws were passed in the mid-1850's - and during that time curricular control has always been in the hands of local or, at most, state educational authorities. Over the last 50 years or so, the federal government has made efforts to control the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">outcomes</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> of public education (the ubiquitous testing of the No Child Left Behind act is the most recent example, but such efforts date back at least as far as Sputnik), but never before have they attempted to control the inputs. To put this in perspective, it is akin to the difference between having an annual checkup to make sure you are staying healthy, and having someone dictate what you must eat and do in order to be healthy.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Now, to be fair, a lot of people do a lousy job keeping themselves healthy, and they would probably benefit from someone telling them what to eat and do. Similarly, local educational authorities have not exactly done a fantastic job of educating our kids over the last couple of centuries, and having common, cohesive expectations is very likely to help fix that. The problem is that in our culture we value autonomy. If people want to sit on the couch all day watching reality television and eating Big Macs only to die young from heart disease and diabetes, then they have the right to do that. The question is, does this autonomy extend to education? Is it a good idea for the federal government to kick the local authorities off the couch and make them go for a jog, or is that a violation of some deeply-held belief in local control and, more broadly, states' rights? Does Kansas have the right to teach creationism (oh, sorry, I mean intelligent design), or should the feds step in and prevent such folly? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">To be honest, at first this seemed like a no-brainer to me. Of course there should be common standards. In an enlightened democracy (hey, we're getting there), the quality of your education should not depend on where you happen to grow up. Also, Kansas should not be allowed to decide for itself what constitutes science.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then, on Monday, I toured my county's brand new high school for the arts. Housed in a beautifully restored and updated old theater building in the scrappy little downtown area of the county seat, this school represents the creative vision and superhuman effort of many, many people. For over an hour, I listened to the school's principal passionately defending the idea of a school for the arts against my hostile witness-type questioning. (You may not be surprised to learn that I tend to take an oppositional stance in just about any discussion. I'd like to tell you that this is a way to get all the information, but the truth is I just like to argue.) As I did, I began to wonder what the impact of top-down curriculum development would be on a school like that. Would they be permitted some kind of exemption? Or (more likely) would they be expected to meet all the standards for a typical high school and fit in their arts education, the core of their mission, around it? As it stands now, that is more or less what they do, but because the curriculum is state-mandated they have (perhaps) more flexibility than they would have (probably) under a federally-mandated curriculum. Would these new standards mean the end of schools like that, either actually or effectively?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Well, from there it's just a slippery slope, isn't it? I suddenly remembered what a disaster the intrusion of "standards" into early childhood education has been. Instead of play-based preschools and kindergartens where children experiment with activities that interest them and spend most of their time moving around, now we have four- and five-year-olds at desks being told to sit still and color inside the lines. This in spite of an ongoing stream of pretty conclusive research suggesting that young children need active, imaginative play to grow up into healthy adults. There is really no reason, then, to believe that the research on the value of arts education will be heeded any more. Or technical education. Or any other alternative path to adulthood.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And, for me, that's really the issue. One size does not fit all. Again and again, research has demonstrated that different kids learn different ways, and that to reach them we must have a wide array of flexible options for teaching them. Common core standards are fine in theory, but in practice will they mean a loss of that flexibility? Will the subjects considered "core" be taught at the expense of other things that are equally important for healthy development? The answer is probably yes. Treating kids as individuals is a lot of work. Expensive, too. Easier, and cheaper, to just give everyone the same thing and then test them on it. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Properly implemented, the common core standards could be a great thing indeed. But when was the last time anything in education was properly implemented? I'm nervous about this. Really nervous.</span></span></div>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-73042063903255871582009-11-05T09:33:00.007-05:002009-11-05T15:00:51.782-05:00Grades<span style="font-family:georgia;">Sometime over the past year, while I was not paying attention, Lucy started bringing home papers with actual grades on them. Not smiley face stickers, which were the extent of the grading in kindergarten, or comments like, "good work!" or even corrections to mistakes, which sometimes happened in first grade. But actual percentage scores, obtained by way of a grading rubric and often translated into a letter. And if you think that she has not noticed this, then I can only say that I wish you were right.<br /><br />As you have probably worked out for yourself by now, I am a college mathematics professor. This job, like all jobs, has its own set of joys and frustrations. The joys are probably obvious: the times when students get excited about the subject, have breakthroughs of understanding, ask (and answer) interesting questions, that sort of thing. Many of the frustrations are simply the complementary experiences: when students are bored, or uninterested, or frustrated themselves. But perhaps the principal frustration of my job is the almost universal fact that students work for grades. Even students who genuinely value learning for its own sake, and these are considerably less common than I might hope, usually aim their efforts not at learning itself but at earning good grades.<br /><br />In a perfect world, of course, grades would reflect learning. But even if grades reflected precisely the learning that we hope to evaluate (which they do not, the world not yet being perfect), there is a fundamental difference of approach between learning for its own sake and learning to earn a grade. Grades are the mother of all extrinsic motivators (money, I suppose, being the father), and like other extrinsic motivators they teach students to look outward, rather than inward, for their rewards.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Young children understand that learning is an intrinsically rewarding activity. Infants learn to walk, toddlers learn to draw, preschoolers learn to count, and kindergartners learn to read, all because those things are fun to learn and interesting to be able to do. Then, suddenly, we start grading them. In the space of less than one academic year, children are no longer proudly announcing their new skills, they are proudly announcing their grades. Or, in some cases, not so proudly.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> And what is a grade, really? A grade is a summary judgment of a person's ability and achievement, distilled, usually, into a single character. How absurd is that? I mean, come on! Twenty years of multiple intelligence theory and this is still the best we can do?<br /><br />I am publicly on record as being <a href="http://www.aaup.org/AAUP/pubsres/academe/2009/SO/col/facfor.htm">against assessment</a>, at least the excessively quantitative forms of assessment that are currently so popular in education. But not all forms of assessment are created equal. Qualitative feedback helps students learn, and helps them hold </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">onto the <span style="font-style: italic;">enjoyment</span> of learning that comes so naturally at the beginning</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> All g</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">rades do is encourage students to become obsessed with performance, and discouraged if they do not perform well. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">And I can tell you from experience that when students enjoy learning, the entire process of education is more rewarding, and more successful, for everyone.<br /><br />I am not naive enough to believe that we can eliminate grades at the college level, at least not in my lifetime. I have my doubts about the high school level, too. But could we not, at the very least, stop grading children in elementary school? Could we postpone, just for a few years, squelching the joy kids take in learning? Because it is painful to watch a child begin to worry about grades, but it is hard to fight and damn near impossible to correct later.<br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-2270617977194362772009-09-30T14:35:00.004-04:002009-10-27T13:41:29.553-04:00MotivationWhen I was in elementary school, if you were naughty you went to the principal's office. What happened there I never knew, because I was never naughty. Well, I never got caught being naughty, anyway. Ask my brother. While you're at it, ask him what went on in the principal's office.<br /><br />Anyway, children today still get sent to the principal's office, but, like almost everything else about elementary school, the process has gotten significantly more complicated in the intervening 20 (OK, 30) years. At Old Forge Elementary, for example, they have the stoplight system. Here's how it works: each child has a clothespin with his or her name on it, and in the classroom there is a big poster of something resembling a large traffic light. All the children (clothespins) start the day on green. When a child is naughty, he (his clothespin) moves to yellow. If he shapes up, he moves back to green; if not, he stays on yellow. If he gets worse, he moves to red. If he punches the teacher in the nose, he goes to the principal's office. Or something like that.<br /><br />At the end of the day, the teacher puts a stamp in each child's Behavior Folder (yep). The color of the stamp corresponds to the color on which the child (clothespin) ended the day. Regardless of the color of the stamp, the child's parent must sign the BF each night to show that she has seen the stamp. At the end of the week, children who got green stamps all week get to choose from the Prize Box (yep). The Prize Box is stocked with all manner of rejected Happy Meal toys, all of which are highly coveted by my non-Happy-Meal-eating children.<br /><br />I told you. Complicated.<br /><br />However, I'm pretty used to this by now. The kids come home, dump their backpacks in the kitchen, and make for the snacks. I unload the backpacks, sort out the multitude of forms, homework, and advertisements for soccer teams, and sign the BF. At this point, if I may say so, I could do it with my eyes closed. And apparently that's just about what I was doing, until one day two weeks ago. I was mid-sort, mid-snack negotiation, just lowering the pen to sign Ben's BF, when I stopped. Looked. Frowned. Squinted. What WAS that? It didn't look like it usually did.<br /><br />It was a yellow stamp. I'd never seen one before.<br /><br />Well.<br /><br />There was a second yellow that week, and two more last week. This means that in addition to being subjected to (presumably) embarrassment in front of his peers and (definitely) interrogation by his parents, Ben did not get to choose a prize either week. This was definitely a Big Deal. And, indeed, this week he has all green stamps and is excited that he will get to choose a prize. So it works, right? Not so fast.<br /><br />Here's the thing: this kind of behavior modification program relies heavily, perhaps exclusively, on extrinsic motivation. In other words, the kid is behaving because of what he gets, or doesn't get, from the outside world as a result. Research shows that this works great on little kids, which is undoubtedly why it's so popular in places where there are a lot of kids to control (like elementary schools). The problem is that it stops working as kids get older and, worse, teaches them that they deserve to be rewarded for doing the right thing.<br /><br />If the Stoplight/Behavior Folder/Prize Box setup were the only one of its kind at Old Forge, I could probably overlook it. But it's not. Indeed, far from it. In addition to the BF there is the BUG (Being Unusually Good) award, in which a student who is especially kind to another student gets a lollipop and a certificate. The Golden Table award, in which a student who exhibits "good character" (the subject of a whole other post, let me assure you) gets to eat lunch on the cafeteria stage while wearing a medal. The Leopard Dollar system, in which students earn pretend money for doing things like their homework. Their homework! The Perfect Attendance award, in which a student with perfect attendance in a given month gets a certificate, some Leopard Dollars, and an invitation to an ice cream party. I could go on.<br /><br />The trouble with all this is that it teaches kids that they should expect to be materially rewarded for doing the right thing, and that, if they are not, there is really no reason to do it. Even worse, it makes whatever provides a material reward appear to be the right thing to do. Can you think of any examples of behavior governed by that kind of skewed code of ethics in our recent history? Gee, let me think.<br /><br />I'm not saying that the global financial crisis is Old Forge elementary school's fault. At least, not exactly. But I <span style="font-style: italic;">am </span>saying that raising kids who respond primarily to extrinsic motivators is a bad idea. Really bad. Instead of, "here's your prize!" how about, "you should be really proud of yourself for behaving so well!" Or instead of, "here's your perfect attendance certificate," how about, "I'll bet you learned a lot this month since you were in school every day." Or instead of, "have a lollipop for being so nice!" how about, "doesn't it make you feel good when you help someone else?" No Happy Meal toys required.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-41042581138381268952009-08-22T08:57:00.007-04:002009-08-22T10:27:13.509-04:00T Plus TwoBen started kindergarten on Thursday.<br /><br />Like virtually everything else, the experience of sending number two off to school was completely different from the first time around. I just couldn't seem to get worked up about it. Indeed, over the last few weeks quite a few people (who apparently actually read what I write here) have asked when I plan to post something about this, and I had started to feel a little guilty about not giving Ben's departure the same maternal angst that I so generously lavished on Lucy's. Right up to Wednesday night, I was completely cavalier about the whole thing. Even on Thursday morning, I was busily making special lunches and snapping first day pictures without a care in the world.<br /><br />Because it was his first day, I drove him to school, and we chatted happily the whole way. I parked and walked him in. We found his seat, and he got out his brand new 24-pack of crayons, the one he wasn't going to have to share with his sister. He started to draw.<br /><br />I said, "I can stay for a few minutes, but then I'm going to have to go to work."<br /><br />He said, "Bye."<br /><br />So I gave him a kiss and left. Wow, that was easy.<br /><br />I walked back to my car, got in, and burst into tears.<br /><br />Which is <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly</span> what happened the morning I dropped Lucy off for the first time, except that this time I wasn't expecting it. This time it was kind of like when you stand up and whack the back of your head on something you didn't realize was there. Part of the resultant pain is from the whack, but part of it is just surprise, your brain going, "what was THAT? I didn't know there was something behind me!"<br /><br />I cried all the way to work, absently wondering what was going on. Through meetings and lunch and more meetings, I sniffled and wondered. When I got home, I was greeted with enthusiastic hugs and stories of the first day, and I realized that I had not been worried about him. That wasn't it. What, then?<br /><br />It wasn't until the next day, after the kids were at school and John was at work and I was getting ready to do my usual Friday morning chores, that it hit me: <span style="font-style: italic;">I'm alone here. It's over.</span><br /><br />So that's what this is about, I thought. I don't have little kids anymore. I have... big kids. Schoolkids.<br /><br />I haven't been home alone on a weekday in over seven years. It's very... quiet. I vacuumed the whole house without once stopping to play with legos or fix a transformer. For some reason, it took twice as long as usual. This is going to take some getting used to.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-52741459664207166892009-05-16T18:18:00.002-04:002009-05-16T18:59:12.296-04:00Party FavorsI don't mean to be ungracious, but really, what is up with party favors these days? When I think, "party favor," I think, "balloon," or maybe, "ziplock baggie filled with cheap, unnecessary plastic objects that will break within 48 hours and be in the landfill by next week." Although I'm not exactly a fan of this kind of party favor, it is at least on a scale appropriate to the observation of an elementary school birthday.<br /><br />Lately, however, it seems like party favors are escalating. Lucy has been bringing home from the seemingly unending stream of birthday parties she attends a series of "favors" that, in my opinion, would more accurately be termed "gifts." Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that in our culture it is the birthday child who is supposed to get the gifts, not the guests. Maybe I'm old-fashioned (OK, I'm old-fashioned) but it seems to me that the party itself is the gift to the guests. Imagine if, every time I had a dinner party, I not only served the guests dinner, wine, and dessert, but sent them home with tote bags full of jewelry and toenail polish. Absurd, right? Yet that's what happens at these parties.<br /><br />Recent party favors have included tee shirts, flip-flops, picture frames, dolls, even live potted plants. And actually, none of these things would be so bad if they came alone. ("Here's your cute little potted geranium to remember Suzie's birthday!" I'm down with that.) The trouble is that they come grouped into increasingly larger containers. First came the paper gift bag, full of stuff. Next came the cloth tote bag, correspondingly full. Most recently, Lucy actually brought home a <span style="font-style: italic;">bucket</span> full of favors. That's right, a bucket. Stickers, activity books, stuffed animals, clothing, makeup (yes, makeup), pens and pencils, and, of course, candy. Always candy.<br /><br />Fellow parents, I am begging you! Stop this madness. Kids don't need more stuff. They need to have fun playing with each other, and that is what you are so generously giving them when you invite them to your child's birthday party. Skip the bucket, OK? We'll all be happier in the long run.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-61959842387044793292009-04-30T16:26:00.008-04:002009-05-04T21:07:33.781-04:00Corporate<span style="font-family:georgia;">Somehow, don't ask me how, I got sucked into being on the silent auction committee at Lucy's school this year. This is a job involving mostly begging for donations, which in the current economic climate is not exactly a rewarding endeavor. Nonetheless, begging I have gone, asking at stores all over the county and beyond for a little something for the auction. I have asked at coffee shops and malls, yoga studios and department stores, even gas stations and supermarkets.<br /><br />Now, believe me when I say that I am sympathetic to the position that one should not have to give donations to the public schools, particularly when one does not even have children attending them. Did we not all pay thousands of dollars to the federal government for this very purpose just last month? Do we not sell tens of millions of dollars' worth of lottery tickets to the quantitatively illiterate to ensure, among other things, the financial health of our schools? Why, yes, we did, and we do. So why is this crazy woman with the redheaded boy in tow asking for a free half pound of coffee? I get that. I do. Furthermore, I get that the recession has been very hard on the retail sector, and that altruism may not be at the top of their list of motivators at this particular juncture.<br /><br />So I expected a lot of rejection at the outset. I figured that most of the mom-and-pops would turn me down, having been hit the hardest. I thought a lot of regional chains would probably say no, too. My best chance, I decided, was the huge national megastores, which were presumably large enough to weather the downturn with their $20 gift cards intact. I figured, for example, that Wal-Mart was doing OK, since in times of economic hardship people previously unwilling to shop there might be forced to cede the high moral ground in order to afford clothing for their kids. Places like Toys R Us, The Gap, Home Depot. They have a little something to spare, right?<br /><br />Wrong. Here is an approximate transcript of a visit to one of these stores:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Guy Behind the Counter</span>: Hi! Welcome to Toys R Us [Wal-Mart, The Gap, Home Depot, etc.]! Can I help you?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Hi! Yes! I'm with the Old Forge Elementary PTA, and we're having a silent auction in May to raise money to buy technology packages for the classrooms [proffer official letter]. We're hoping you might be able to donate something for the auction. Anything would help - a gift card, an overstocked item, whatever.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">GBtC</span>: [eyes glaze over, speaks in a monotone] I'm sorry. I can't handle that here. You'll have to contact our corporate headquarters via our web site, [quotes web address].<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Oh. OK. Thanks anyway.<br /><br />I must have had this conversation 50 times over the last month. I ask for a donation, I get referred to Corporate. OK, so, I'm no stranger to the internet, I went ahead and hit those web sites, which are absurdly difficult to navigate (unlike the main sites for the stores themselves). I filled out web forms, I sent emails. Here, then, is an <span style="font-style: italic;">exact</span> transcript of an exchange with one such corporate headquarters, which shall remain nameless:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My email</span>:<br />Hello,<br />I am on the PTA at Old Forge Elementary School in Maryland. We will be having a silent auction next month, and I visited your store in the Valley Mall today to ask if they would be able to donate an item or a gift card for the auction. I spoke with Brittany, the manager there, and she told me that I needed to contact you electronically about this. I am attaching a letter containing more information about the auction and our school. Our taxpayer ID number is available on request. I know many of the students and parents at our school shop at your store - I hope you will be able to help us!<br /><br />Thank you,<br />Kira Hamman<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Their response</span>:<br />Thank you for your inquiry. [Name of company] is committed to investing in the communities we serve. </span>We believe we should go beyond the basics of ethical business practices and embrace our responsibility to people and to the planet. We believe this brings sustained, collective value to our shareholders, our employees, our customers and society. Social responsibility is fundamental to who we are and how we operate as a company. We invite you to visit our web site at [address] to read about the projects we are currently supporting.<br /><br />If I can be of any further assistance, please let me know.<br /><br />[Name]<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My response to their response:<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>So is that a no?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Yeah, so, it turns out I was right about the quantity of rejection, but dead wrong about its source. It turns out that, in hard times, it's the people in your own community who help you out. The local hardware store. The dog groomer. The dentist's office. The dentist's office! They put together a gift basket for us! The hair salon. The local pizzeria (Domino's said no). The bowling alley. And so on. Here's an approximate transcipt of a visit to one of these stores:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lady Behind the Counter, who is also the owner: </span>Whaddaya need, honey?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Hi! I'm on the Old Forge PTA, and -<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">LBtC: </span>Oh, my kids went there years ago! Such a nice little school. Is Mrs. Waterman still there?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Uh, I don't think so. I'm not sure. My daughter is only in first grade -<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">LBtC: </span>Oh, that's the best age! They love school so much at that age! And how old is your little one [gesturing to Ben]? Isn't his hair something else?<br /><br />This can go on for some time, until finally:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />LBtC: </span></span></span>So you need something for the auction. Why don't you go ahead and pick something out? Something under $20. Whatever you think would sell.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Thank you so much!<br /><br />I feel like a jerk and an idiot for being so off-base on this. Now, of course, it makes sense. These people know who I am. They know the school, they know the kids. Their kids, or grandkids, or neighbors, or all of the above, go there. Unlike Corporate, they actually care whether or not Old Forge kids have what they need. Furthermore, being businesspeople, they hope that being generous to the local school will bring them much-needed business that they might not otherwise get. Corporate knows it already has our business and doesn't need to work for it.<br /><br />It's not like I needed another reason to hate megastores. I am firmly in the bleeding-heart-liberal camp of people who avoid Wal-Mart like the plague that it is (except, of course, when I'm begging for auction donations). I understand that if I don't support local businesses then they will fail, irrevocably changing the landscape of the small town in which I live. I know I should buy lumber at the local mill instead of Home Depot, books at the independent bookseller instead of Barnes & Noble, toys at the little store downtown instead of Toys R Us. And most of the time I do.<br /><br />But I won't lie. To me, shopping at Target is one of life's little pleasures, right in there with pedicures and discovering that my husband has folded all the laundry. The convenience of one-click buying at Amazon is as seductive to me as the apple was to Eve. Unfortunately, the consequences are proving to be as dire. I love Quizno's subs. But you know what? I don't want to live in a world where I <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> to get my subs at Quizno's because they've driven everyone else out of business. And there's the rub.<br /><br />As I was thinking about these things earlier today, my favorite independent toy store posted a link on their facebook page to the <a href="http://www.the350project.net/home.html">3/50 Project</a>. I was immediately smitten with their attitude, the upshot of which is that it doesn't have to be all or nothing. You don't have to swear never to one-click preorder the latest Harry Potter from Amazon ever again. You can have a Quizno's veggie sub with no onions and extra guacamole. You can even, dare I say, browse through Target's spring collection. Just, please, promise to support the local guys too. Every month, spend at least $50 among at least 3 local independent businesses. Pick up the potting soil you need at the local store instead of the megastore. Go out for dinner at a non-chain restaurant. Get your morning coffee and bagel somewhere other than Starbucks one day. Done. Get it? So simple! So easy! So effective.<br /><br />Because, to quote Judy Collins, "</span><span style="font-size:100%;">God help me if I ever have to shop at Wal-Mart because nothing else is left."<br /><br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-49597691087196967892009-04-27T15:49:00.002-04:002009-04-27T17:11:26.478-04:00Mr. Harry<span style="font-family: georgia;">On Thursday night I realized with dismay that, because school was conveniently getting out two hours early the next day, the bus stop run would conflict with an important phone conference I had to participate in. Oh, the joys of working from home. After a brief pow-wow, John and I decided to let Lucy walk home from the bus stop alone for the first time. It's only about 100 yards, but you have to walk down the hill before turning onto our lane, and then you have to walk down the lane to get to our driveway. She knows the way, of course, and knows to walk in the grass rather than on the road, and so on, but we had never let her try it on her own before. As with so many things, she was excited, I was conflicted and apprehensive.<br /><br />Still, the conference must go on, so Friday morning I wrote a note for Lucy to give to her bus driver (known to one and all as "Mr. Harry") explaining that I was at home but couldn't come out to meet the bus, and that it was OK for her to walk down the hill alone today. I confess that I was not paying much attention to the phone conference as the appointed time drew near and I strained to look out the window. You can't actually see the bus stop from the house, but eventually I saw her turn onto the lane and I breathed a sigh of relief. Just then I heard a "toot-toot!" and saw Lucy turn to wave at someone I couldn't see. Mr. Harry, of course. He'd waited until she got all the way down the hill before driving away, even though that put him at least five minutes behind schedule (probably longer, knowing Lucy's walking speed).<br /><br />It was typical of him. He was the kind of guy who had inside jokes going with most of the kids, who managed to draw shy Lucy out of her shell within the first week and who honked the big bus horn at Ben every day as he drove up the hill before dropping Lucy off. As I went out to get Lucy today I was thinking that I would thank him for keeping an eye on her on Friday. He would brush it off, tease Ben about wearing his rain boots on this 90 degree day, and drive off.<br /><br />Except that Mr. Harry wasn't on the bus today. A woman I'd never seen before pulled up and, as Lucy was climbing off, told me that on Saturday Mr. Harry was in, of all things, a traffic accident. He died.<br /><br />As the tears filled my eyes, I thought of how this was the first person Lucy has known to die. I knew I would need to talk to her about it, and that I would consult my therapist mother for advice on what to do. I knew I would have to decide what, if anything, to tell four-year-old Ben. I knew this was something you deal with in life, and I knew we would deal with it. But, while I knew all this, I was momentarily stunned by the suddenness of it. By the vivid reminder that you just don't know, from one moment to the next, what will happen. You can't live your life worrying about it, of course, or you would go crazy and your children would grow up to be agoraphobic. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">You have to let your kids walk home from the bus stop on their own when it's time and keep your apprehension to yourself. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">You have to operate on the assumption that tomorrow will come along in due time and that it will be pretty much like today. But every once in a while something happens to make you realize that this, like all assumptions, can be spectacularly false.<br /><br />I guess the antidote, if that's the word, to the unexpected turns life takes is to appreciate the present as much as we possibly can. To find joy in the things we do every day. To toot the horn at a little kid who wishes he got to ride the bus, too. To take an extra five minutes making sure someone gets home safely.<br /><br />We'll miss you, Mr. Harry.<br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-52685537386144317562009-02-17T20:27:00.005-05:002009-02-18T14:20:40.539-05:00RSVP<span style="font-family:georgia;">Three, maybe four weeks ago I sent seven adorable (if I may say so) hand-designed invitations to Lucy's seventh birthday party to seven carefully selected friends and classmates. The invitation gave all the relevant information - date, time, location - plus a plea to "please respond to..." and included both my phone number and my email address. Hey, I'm not old fashioned. I don't require an engraved response card. Email is fine. Indeed, I even omitted the apparently misleading RSVP acronym, a not insignificant concession on my part. RSVP, of course, <span style="font-style: italic;">means</span> "please respond," but since even fewer people speak French than respond to invitations these days, and in light of past disappointing response rates, I elected to speak English this year.<br /><br />Turns out no one speaks English either.<br /><br />The party in question is now three days away, and here are the numbers:<br />Yes: 4<br />No: 0<br />Maybe: 1<br /><br />Hang on. <span style="font-style: italic;">Maybe?</span> What, if you don't get a better offer? Well, yes, basically. The family has something else to do but will come by if they finish early enough. Wow. What do you say to that? I mean, it's not that I don't want this child to come to the party, not at all. And I know Lucy will be sad if her friend is not there. In fact, I can easily imagine the little girl pleading with her mother to let her go to the party. This is what we in education call a <span style="font-style: italic;">teachable moment</span>. The mother expresses sympathy for her daughter's disappointment but explains that sometimes in life you have to make choices. At least, that's what happens in my fantasy world, also known as 1955. In 21st-century real life, apparently, it's fine to be rude.<br /><br />Meanwhile, you may have noticed that these numbers do not add up to seven. That's right - two children (or, to place blame where it's due, their parents) have yet to respond. The "maybe" response notwithstanding, it is hard to imagine that these people do not themselves know whether or not their daughter will attend. Surely by now they have made a decision on this. Why not let me in on it? It is to these people that I am always tempted to say, when they call the morning of the party to say breezily that little Betty will be there, that I'm so delighted to have her if only she'll promise not to eat or drink anything, since the shopping for the party was done a week ago. Oh, and no party favors, either.<br /><br />I don't say that, of course, because I am a very serious Non-RSVP Enabler, also known as a Polite Hostess. But I think it. You hear me? I'm thinking it!<br /><br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-50717335764587440832009-02-04T17:48:00.005-05:002009-02-05T12:58:19.047-05:00BFF<span style="font-family:georgia;">Yesterday Lucy said to me, "Mom, Madison is my BFF."<br /><br />Now, there are two deeply troubling linguistic issues in that sentence, but leaving aside for a moment the entirely open question of whether or not I should allow my child to consort with someone named after a Daryl Hannah character from the 80's, let's instead consider the term "BFF."<br /><br />No sooner was it out of her mouth than Lucy fixed me with a doubtful stare. "Do you know what BFF means, Mom?"<br /><br />Oh, the irony.<br /><br />Now, it happens that I do, in fact, know what BFF means. I know because a friend whose daughter is some years older than mine told me. This happened, oh, about a week ago. The friend mentioned her daughter's BFF in an email, and I responded by saying "WTF is a BFF?" to which she responded, predictably perhaps, "OMG!!!"<br /><br />So, yes, I know what a BFF is, but not, and I repeat NOT because I am in any way Hip. But did this fact stop me from acting Hip to Lucy? No, it did not.<br /><br />"Sure," I replied nonchalantly, "I know what BFF means." Implying, of course, "what kind of idiot doesn't know <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span>?"<br /><br />And yet. And yet. Do I really know what it means? I suppose we've always had this concept, albeit without the acronym, but for me the BFF is a thing of the past. I have dear friends, indeed, and in some adult sense my husband is my BFF, but methinks the BFF is a very adolescent construct. Which, because my own adolesence is mercifully behind me, means that I probably <span style="font-style: italic;">don't</span> really know what BFF means, at least not what it means to an almost-seven-year-old. Furthermore, it was amply clear from her expression that Lucy did not <span style="font-style: italic;">expect</span> me to know what it means.<br /><br />And so it seems we have entered a new era, one in which Lucy knows and understands stuff that I don't. One in which she <span style="font-style: italic;">knows</span> that she knows stuff I don't. One in which I become less Hip, or perhaps simply in which my lack of Hipness begins to be objectionable.<br /><br />None of this is exactly a cheerful prospect.<br /><br />Except - wait - isn't this what growing up is, at least in part? Isn't it just the latest version of all that separating I've been talking about? Growing away from your parents and their (un-Hip) ways. Growing new ideas and, yes, new vocabulary. Having a BFF that they did not choose for you and have, in fact, never even met. Yep. Sounds right.<br /><br />OMG.<br /><br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-80709686186593867582009-01-31T08:48:00.002-05:002009-01-31T08:53:11.680-05:00Self-awareness<span style="font-family: georgia;">Over hot cocoa after an afternoon spent sledding:<br /><br />Lucy [with conviction]: Mom, if you want someone to remember something, I'm your girl. If you want someone to slide down the ice backwards in a sled, that's not me.<br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-26352570750914952932008-11-19T19:50:00.002-05:002008-11-19T20:00:17.560-05:00Wardrobe<span style="font-family: georgia;">Here is what Ben wore to preschool today:<br /></span><ul><li>Red silk women's blouse (from his pirate Halloween costume via Goodwill)</li><li>Purple velvet girls' leggings (ditto)</li><li>Sparkly belt decorated with butterflies (from Lucy's dresser, on loan)</li><li>Paul Revere-style black felt three-corner hat (from our trip to Colonial Williamsburg)</li><li>Knee-high red and blue Barcelona Soccer Club soccer socks (from, well, Barcelona)</li><li>Froggy rain boots (from eBay)</li><li>"Rock the Vote" button (from Montgomery College)</li></ul>The best part? No one said a thing.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-83578212935089517892008-11-06T15:58:00.002-05:002008-11-06T17:01:35.808-05:00ObamaThere is no television at my house. We don't need one - our NPR addiction gets us all the news we need, and on the rare occasions when we watch a movie we just use a laptop. For big events I buy a newspaper.<br /><br />Needless to say, yesterday was a Big Event.<br /><br />So I picked up a copy of the Washington Post (which I note is now selling for upwards of $50 on eBay - who knew?) at the gas station while Ben was in preschool. After I read it I left it on the kitchen table, where Lucy discovered it when she got home from school.<br /><br />She looked at all the pictures carefully, and read most of the headlines. Then she said, "does Obama have brown skin?"<br /><br />She knew we were campaigning for him. Indeed, she was one of the only children in her class to vote for him in their mock election. Have I mentioned that we live in a red county? But remember - no TV. Apparently she had no idea what he looks like until she saw him on the front page of the paper.<br /><br />So I said, "yes, he does. He's the first African-American to be elected president of our country."<br /><br />There was a pause. Then she said, "why?"<br /><br />Uh... because of the insidious legacy of slavery? Because bigotry is damn near impossible to eradicate? Because people fear change and difference in equal measure?<br /><br />In the end I said something about the unfairness of slavery, with which she is already familiar, and how it has taken a long time for that unfairness to begin to go away. An insufficient answer to a deep and insightful question. But does not the question itself speaks of the not-very-distant future, when people will think of the time before a black man was president the way my generation thinks of the time before women could vote: as ancient history?<br /><br />Lucy is amazed by the fact that when her great-grandmother was a little girl she had no refrigerator. That when her grandparents were young most people did not have televisions. That when her father and I were kids there were no computers or cell phones. One day, I imagine, she will tell her children that when she was young, the first African-American was elected president.<br /><br />And they will be amazed.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-64542230988257914672008-10-13T13:44:00.003-04:002008-10-13T13:54:00.733-04:00Translation<span style="font-family: georgia;">Ben: Mom, how do you scratch when there are no mosquitoes?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Translation: What makes you itch besides mosquito bites?</span><br /><br />Me: Well... sometimes something tickles you a little, and that itches.<br /><br />Ben: You're kidding!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Translation: When Daddy tickles me, it doesn't itch.</span><br /><br />Ben: What else?<br /><br />Me: Um... poison ivy...<br /><br />Ben: Like the play.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Translation: Like Daddy had the time that he had to stay home from a play we were all planning to go to.</span><br /><br />Me: Right.<br /><br />Ben: What else?<br /><br />Me: Um... well... sometimes you're allergic to something, and that makes you itch.<br /><br />Ben: Why does lergic scratch you?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Translation: What's allergic?</span><br /><br />Me: Allergies are when... uh... your body doesn't like something. Something isn't good for your body -<br /><br />Ben: Like cotton candy!<br /><br />Me: Well, no, not unhealthy. Well, I guess it's unhealthy, but not like a food. I mean, you can be allergic to a food, but -<br /><br />Ben: Let's play cars.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Translation: You suck at explaining things, Mom.</span><br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-64005226450681926332008-10-07T11:57:00.006-04:002008-10-09T17:03:01.529-04:00Cheerleaders<span style="font-family: georgia;">Last week Lucy asked if she could have some school friends over to play and, because for once we had a free weekend, I said sure. She chose two kids and I called their parents to see if they were free on Sunday afternoon. The first little girl's father said she would come (without consulting her, which I found a little disturbing), but the mother of the second girl informed me that her daughter is busy on Sunday afternoons because - wait for it - she is a cheerleader.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">She is six.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Wow," I said, "I didn't know six-year-olds could be cheerleaders."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Oh, they start them at five," she assured me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Wow," I said again, not wanting to be rude but not being able to think of anything else on short notice.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Maybe they can get together when football season is over," the mother suggested. Apparently her daughter doesn't cheer for the basketball team.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Right," I said, and hung up quickly before I could say something I, and Lucy, would regret.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">But now I can say it: five year old cheerleaders? Seriously? Is this a good idea? I mean, I accept that cheerleaders are part of a certain high school culture (although that culture is entirely outside of my own experience, cheerleaders at my large urban public high school having been related to Sandra Dee the way Navy Seals are related to the swim team). But in kindergarten?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">It seems that cheering, as it's called by those in the know, has become a competitive sport. Participants are thrown into the air to do various kinds of somersaults and other airborne feats before they are caught again by a teammate. Except when they're not. The </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Journal of the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons</em><span style="font-family: georgia;"> reports that more female athletes suffer catastrophic injuries from cheering than from any other sport. A 13-year study in the journal </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;">Pediatrics</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> found a 100% increase in the incidence of pediatric cheering-related injuries over the course of the study. It's not exactly safe, is it? And while I imagine (hope) that the pee-wee squad is not doing the kind of acrobatics that result in quadriplegia, I also imagine that those acrobatics are their goal, the pinnacle for which they are reaching.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">And then there's body image. Although young female athletes on average have better body image and lower risk of eating disorders than other girls their age, this does not hold true in sports like gymnastics, ice skating, and dance, where a certain body type is expected of participants. My guess is that cheering falls into this category, although it has yet to be studied in this respect. At best, cheerleading is highly sexualized, making it a questionable choice for the prepubescent set.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Luckily, Lucy shows no interest in her friend's cheering career, so I don't have to have this conversation with her. But it makes me wonder what else is coming down the pike. Will there be belly dancing in second grade? Pole dancing in third? Why can't we let kids be kids and just <span style="font-style: italic;">pretend</span> to be cheerleaders (or astronauts, or firefighters, or belly dancers, or whatever) for a while longer?<br /><br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-25997238001795475482008-09-04T12:04:00.006-04:002008-09-08T21:35:26.611-04:00Soccer<span style="font-family:georgia;">I like soccer. I do. I enjoy playing it (badly), I enjoy watching it, and I respect the men and women who are so good at it. Well, most of them. But I just don't get the whole Soccer Thing.<br /><br />When the Soccer Thing hits, entire families can be consumed by the kids' soccer schedules. Some of them are at games and/or practices literally every day of the week, leading one to wonder when they do anything else. Laundry, for instance, of which there must be even more than usual due to all that soccer. Less time <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> more laundry - it sounds like my idea of hell. Why would you do that to yourself?<br /><br />Well, because you think it's good for your kids, of course, the same reason we do virtually everything else unpleasant, or difficult, or inconvenient. But <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> it good for kids? In its policy statement on the topic, the American Academy of Pediatrics notes that organized sports can "create demands and expectations that exceed the readiness and capabilities of young participants." </span>Quite a number of researchers have found troubling trends among kids who play organized sports as young children, from a disproportionately high number of injuries to a surprising disinclination to play sports later in life to a distressing correlation between sports participation and classroom cheating.<br /><br />All of these researchers hasten to point out that it is not the game itself that is bad. Competition, they write, is not a negative influence per se. Rather, it's the attitude of the adults who are involved in the game that matters; when adults value fair play and teamwork over winning, kids do better. Shocker.<br /><br />Nothing wrong with soccer, nope. But soccer practice <span style="font-style: italic;">every day? </span>Soccer games <span style="font-style: italic;">every weekend? </span>I don't know. It seems like a bit much to me. Plus, I hate laundry.Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-62874402687022614492008-08-21T16:54:00.005-04:002008-08-25T08:05:46.665-04:00Texas<span style="font-family:georgia;">I feel that I have no choice but to comment on <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/08/15/gun.toting.teachers.ap/index.html">this story</a> about a school district in Texas which is now allowing teachers to carry concealed firearms to school.<br /><br />It's hard to say what is most disturbing about this. Is it the implication that the world is fundamentally unsafe and we must be prepared to defend ourselves by force at all times? Is it the fact that this implication will hardly be lost on the children, who will come to believe that the world is a place to be approached not with curiosity and enthusiasm but with fear and trepidation? Or is it the inescapable conclusion that there are teachers out there, people whose job it is to nurture and educate the next generation, who think that this might actually be a good idea?<br /><br />One friend of mine points out that the likelihood of a teacher putting the gun down - in a desk drawer, in a briefcase - and its being picked up by a child is simply too great to ignore. Another notes that teachers shooting at shooters will only increase casualties, as crazed, suicidal teenage killers are hardly likely to lay down their weapons when faced with authority. A third, somewhat more cynical friend says that as a parent she is frequently grateful that she <span style="font-style: italic;">doesn't</span> have a gun, and that for teachers this gratitude must be multiplied by the number of children in their classes, at least.<br /><br />In other words, the reasons that this is a bad idea are many and varied, but the fact is this: guns do not belong in schools. Period.<br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-87404601227615516672008-08-13T11:20:00.004-04:002008-08-13T11:43:30.225-04:00Summer<span style="font-family: georgia;">Lucy's school, along with every other elementary school in our county, gives the children workbooks at the end of the school year to work on over the summer. The goal of this program is to minimize the "skill loss" that inevitably occurs over the months of vacation, and because I am apparently still deeply conflicted about school in general I have mixed feelings about it.<br /><br />On the one hand, I actually believe that children should go to school year-round and have four or five shorter breaks throughout the year rather than one extremely long break over the summer. This is the subject of a different post, so I'll save you the lengthy explanation. Suffice it to say that I do not see schoolwork in the summer as the blasphemy that some do.<br /><br />On the other hand, I hate to be compelled to do anything. (I hear my family laughing uproariously as they read that.) My gut reaction to the school telling me that Lucy has to work on something over summer vacation is, "you can't make me!"<br /><br />So when the workbook came home, I told Lucy she could work on it if she wanted to, but she didn't have to. Naturally, because she was not being compelled and because she is at least as much an academic personality as her parents are, she worked diligently and seemed to enjoy it. I don't know how much she got out of it academically, but it kept her in touch with the idea of school and with the kind of activities one does there. Far from being a burden, it gave her something to do when she was at loose ends. Furthermore, the school hosted three evening events over the summer where kids could bring their workbooks and have them checked by teachers. They did some crafts and handed out root beer floats. It was, dare I say, fun.<br /><br />And once again I am reminded that school/home and learning/vacationing are false dichotomies.<br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-91999822420905842962008-08-11T14:45:00.002-04:002008-08-11T14:57:32.156-04:00First Grade<span style="font-family: georgia;">First grade starts next week. And although this next milestone carries with it virtually none of the angst that attended the start of kindergarten, I nevertheless find that I am not looking forward to it.<br /><br />I really like having Lucy at home. I like talking to her, I like watching what she's doing, I like it that she can spend the morning reading books in her pajamas if she wants to. Even when I wish she would leave me alone for a few minutes, I like having her around. And when she's in school, it seems like she's never really here. She's getting ready for school, then she's at school, then she's getting back from school. Then it's dinner time and bath time and bed time, and then she's getting ready for school again. There are weekends, of course, and vacations, and the 3:00 - 6:00 window every day, but still, the schedule really revolves around school.<br /><br /><br />Much like last year, however, I can't help but notice that <span style="font-style: italic;">she</span> is very excited. She can't wait to meet her new teacher, see her friends, learn new stuff. Not be the littlest anymore. And this is good, that she is excited. Being away from us all day doesn't seem to bother her in the least. I guess that means I'm doing my job.<br /><br />I'll miss her, though.<br /><br /></span>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96961267638870001.post-21152430796022545562008-06-04T07:46:00.001-04:002008-06-04T07:48:42.452-04:00The Last Day<p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">She pulls on her shoes<br />and heads off to the last day.<br />To her, no big deal.</p>Kirahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04221157500759782064noreply@blogger.com0