We don't need low performers and non performers

There is a school of thought in the education system that makes statements that seem incredibly reasonable on the surface but are a simply a new version of discrimination. Jokes are made all the time about gay being the new black but, those commentators are missing the boat. Poor and broken is the new black. While race and gender never cease to be an areas of discrimination, both have been surpassed by the discrimination engendered by the normal result of living in poverty in a situation which does not offer security or offers limited security.

Children raised in homes in which they are unwanted, or in which the resources do not exist to make it possible for them to receive the attention necessary to make them feel wanted, might have priorities that do not include progressing in their education. Their needs are substantially more short-term than that. Will there be dinner? Will there be a place to sleep that is warm, clean, safe? Will entering my owm home result in emotional pain that is too much to bear? These children aren't able to focus on the personal reward that can be found in achieving an "A". They aren't capable of even the most basic long-term decisions. They look at an hour from now, six hours from now, tomorrow morning, this weekend.

Whether their situation is the result of poverty in a loving environment, or a single parent who is absent in an attempt to keep them financially solvent, or a family that doesn't want them whether the family is financially capable or not, or a million other scenarios, these kids can't count on anything and can't see past making it through today or even smaller increments of time. Yet, I speak to people who have all the right paper to be educators and they tell me that these kids aren't motivated. They tell me that these kids don't deserve a public education until they can "put their priorities in order".

I remember learning about the difference between "need" and "want" at some point in my education. What I believe is that these kids need to focus on the things that are going to keep them alive and sane. They have put the "want" for graduating high school on a back burner and they address it as it becomes feasible during the war for the "needs" of simple survival.

I am at a loss trying to explain how these people can consider themselves educators. Public education came into being to create the right for children who couldn't afford to be educated to have that right. Compulsory education was an attempt to get "bad" kids off the street. It never had anything to do with the best interest of the children. Today, we use compulsory education as a tool to engineer society and make families fit the picture that we have of the good family. I can almost understand why some people would think that getting a child into school will make them able to protect the well-being of the child. However, school isn't in existence to make it possible for outsiders to have a voyeur's look at the family. It exists to educate.

How can we educate a person who is focused on their personal pain and their survival? We have to reach them first. Have to help to meet their more basic needs. We have to acknowledge and address the reality of their lives. Then we have to find a way to make an education fit into that situation. Schools are not meant to be the social engineers of the society for school age children. Schools are not equipped to address the needs of these families. We are equipped to listen, to understand, to communicate authentically, and to attempt to motivate and engage these students in an effort to help them to help themselves with the one thing schools are qualified to provide - an education. Failure to reach these students can be extremely costly. Failure will affect the student, their current and potential future families, and society.

These self-proclaimed educators who espouse responsibility as the key to making these students fit the cookie-cutter mold which they think, in their certification-driven eupohoria actually exists, claim no responsibility for learning who their students are or what their lives are. They expect them to look at the golden "A" as the finish lines to all their hopes and dreams. They expect them to focus on standards and anchors, PSSA scores, SAT scores as the culmination of all that they will need to get into college and lead the good life. The good life, of course, being defined as the life of a professional with certifications and the lifestyle contained therein. I fear that these professionals will never understand the definition of the good life for these kids. For these kids, the good life is a life in which meals, clean clothes and utilities are predictable, in which violence is not a regular occurrence, in which adults are people on whom they can rely for love and direction, in which sex is a consensual act which occurs with pleasure and intimacy, in which there is some modicum of justice, in which someone truly loves them.

I watched two movies today. Video watching is what occurs when I am given a day off. I watched a movie called the The Education of Charlie Banks and another called Aileen: Life and Death of a Serial Killer. Each recounted stories of a child's early life that mirrors stories that I hear every day from the students in school. The possibility that these students can turn away from the tragedies that have befallen them to date and try to make a long term change rests with the adults who are dealing with them now. We can not change the lives that they lead. We can not reach them by threatening to throw them out. They have already been disenfranchised on so many levels that they can't begin to describe the emotional devastation that they've suffered. They expect to be abandoned. They expect that we will find them to be insufficient and lose interest. There is no punishment left in exclusion. It is all that they expect.

Let's shock them. Let's not exclude them. Let's not find them lacking or unmotivated. Let's try to find something....anything....that interests them. Then let's use it to excite them about learning. After they want to learn anything, let's then begin to talk to them about putting aside immediate gratification and looking forward. Let's build small, realistic goals that will help them to find success. Maybe, once they have tasted success and acceptance, they will learn to love the taste of it. Maybe they can. Maybe they can't. Its possible that their needs are so immediate that we will lose the battle. But, please, let's take responsibility ourselves. Each lost child is our responsibility.

Let's be willing to alter our expectations and give them time to learn. Just because their situation does not permit them to be ready now does not mean that we haven't reached them. Each of them is worth every ounce of energy that we can offer them. Honestly, they are worth more than all the energy we have left. Don't lose them. Don't leave them to wander through an inexplicably harsh world wondering why no one loves them. Let them know that we care. Let them know that they aren't numbers on a ledger.

I received an email from a woman recently trying to explain why it is unwise to attempt to get truant children to re-enroll. In her brief explanation she included that teachers shouldn't need to deal with so many low performing and non-performing children. Are you kidding me? Teachers not only need to deal with students who aren't performing, they need to figure out why and try to show these students that they care and try to make the students excited about learning and successful. Administrators need to take responsibilities for our "throw-away" kids. Stop being so comfortable with removing non-attending 17 year olds from the rolls. Your willingness to view them as numbers is something with which they have become accustomed. Try viewing them as individuals with their own situations and really shock them. It would be refreshing to have the adults take responsibility as we have demanded that the students do. It would be refreshing to have educators stop talking about which method of teaching works best and start to authentically try to reach all the students....even the ones who don't fit your model and present a challenge.

Falling in love with Philly again/Independence? Hall

Yesterday afternoon, I had reason to go into South Philadelphia. After finishing my business, the person I was meeting with down there gave a me a tip. "Try the chicken cutlet parmagiana sandwich at Vincenzo's." Wonderful lunch in a great environment. A little corner restaurant at 9th Street, a few blocks north of St. Nicholas Church, there is a lunch counter surrounding the grill. The food was great. The patron's were friendly. It was a joy.

After lunch, I continued driving up 9th Street, through the Italian Market. I stopped at Sarcone's Bakery and got a few loaves of their wonderful bread and some cookies. I had to park a few blocks away so I had a lovely, short walk on 9th Street on a beautiful sunny afternoon. I fell in love with my city again. A feeling I haven't had in years.

This morning, the first weekend day after a cold snap ended, I decided to show my daughter some of the parts of Philadelphia that I love. We took a walk through downtown historic Philadelphia. We stopped and read the signs. We stopped at the Visitors' Center and got a map to do a self-guided walking tour. We saw the Liberty Bell. We stopped at City Tavern. We watched the horse and carriage drivers. Then I took her over to Independence Hall.

John Adams has been my hero for years. I can remember standing in Faneuil Hall in Boston and getting chills thinking about the fact that John Adams had once spoken in this room. I used to get the same feeling in Independence Hall when I was younger. I couldn't wait to see if she would feel the same way. So, with my heart full of love for Philadelphia and history, I walked with my daughter over to Independence Hall. After walking around a myriad of barriers, which almost reminded me of the chutes that cattle are led down to meet their untimely demise, we were able to enter a door which would eventually enable us to see the room in which the Declaration of Independence was signed.

Upon entering the door, other visitors were in a line allowing their purses to be searched and opening their coats to reassure the guards that we had no weapons hidden under them. My skin crawled. I wanted to scream. The irony of the situation was so strong that it filled the room and sucked the air from my lungs. Are you kidding me? Just one building away was the room that housed the men who wrote the document declaring to Great Britain that we were a free nation. Yet, here we were, mindless sheep, allowing a stranger to look through our personal possessions.

I considered my next action. I could allow my civil liberties to be stolen to be permitted to see the room in which they were so important that men were willing to commit treason against King George or I could walk away and keep them intact. I decided that I needed to let my daughter see the room while I explained the incongruity. I submitted to the demeaning search of my private possessions and then stood in line for almost 40 minutes to get into the building. During that time I talked to my daughter about the reasons for my anger. She was embarrassed by my upset but, I think, understood the reason for it.

Once in the building, we were herded into the room on the right of the door which once served as the Supreme Court of Pa. I wasn't interested in showing her that. I wanted her to see the room in which the Second Continental Congress met. As I directed her toward the door of that room to look in, I was informed by another guard that we had to stay with the tour because there were valuable historical items in the next room. I told the guard we were just going to look through the door. The guards watched us closely. A true reason for concern, a middle aged woman and her young teenage daughter looking at a room of historical value unattended by a tour guide.

I hope that my daughter got the same sense of wonder from that room that I experienced at her age. A room that had been filled with brave, determined people. Great minds thinking great thoughts. Men willing to commit themselves and their lives to a belief that things could be and should be different.

Tonight, I will sit with my daughter and read Article IV of the Constitution to her. "The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." I will try to explain to her how we are being disloyal to our country every time that we meekly submit to searches "for our own good". I will explain to her what John Adams meant when he said, "Be not intimidated... nor suffer yourselves to be wheedled out of your liberties by any pretense of politeness, delicacy, or decency." I will borrow from Ben Franklin, "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety", to explain to her why searches of this nature are not for our own good.

This will be my last visit to Independence Hall until it supports the principals of Independence that the signers of the Declaration of Indepence found to be self-evident and inalienable.

A sad goodbye to my dear friend

My friend, Scott, died last week. I don't think that many people will notice his passing or feel the loss. I will. My children will. When I found out on Friday morning that he was gone, I immediately began thinking about all the things that I will miss about Scott.

Before this begins to sound like a trite obituary about how marvelous someone is now that they're dead, let me say that Scott was not the easiest person to love. I can already see my Ash smiling as she reads this. She'll be thinking...what fun are easy people?

Scott could be difficult and abrasive. He drank too much. He was obstinate in the face of logic. He was loud. If those are all the faults that I can come up with, then he must have been a pretty good person.

He really did have a heart of gold. I guess the most important thing about Scott was that he always wanted to do the right thing. Once, when we hadn't seen each other in a while, he hugged me so hard that he broke my rib. That is almost the quintessential essence of Scott. Trying so hard to be good that it hurt.

He had this wonderful floppy 80's hair. He had twinkling blue eyes that lit up, especially when he smiled his quirky, almost crooked smile. He had a great belly laugh; almost like a little kid who laughs so hard that they make you laugh even if you don't understand what they think is so funny.

Scott and I shared a lot of life's ups and downs. He was there when I lost boyfriends to tell me that the guy was a jerk and I didn't need him anyway. I was there for him when his mom died and he was grieving their estrangement and dealing with the guilt. We watched Bugs Bunny together in the mornings after we worked night shift at adjoining businesses and laughed like 5 year olds. Whether it was hard stuff or easy stuff, good or bad, we were there for each other. We dated and stopped dating. We were roommates at other times. We didn't see each other for months at a time sometimes. No matter how much contact we had or didn't had, we loved each other.

I could fight with Scott like I was never able to fight with anyone else. A wierd thing to say in a positive tone. We would yell, scream, and say vile things to each other. I guess we could fight so well because we loved each other so much. We knew we'd go lick our wounds, then forgive each other.

I remember Scott coming home one night, late, half-drunk, and walking through the front door at an odd angle. I asked if he was ok. Only one word came out of his mouth, "home". That's what Scott and I were to each other. We were home to two people who often felt as if they didn't really belong anywhere.

The last few years have been very hard; both for Scott and for those of us who loved him. He was very ill. His medications caused short-term memory loss. He would take his medications multiple times in a day. He would forget that he had talked to me on the phone and call yelling that I hadn't called him. It was sad. It was hard. He was no longer like a brother to me. He was more like a rapidly aging favorite uncle. Yet he didn't forget our past. Just our present. He drank more and more and took too much of his anti-anxiety medication, which only increased his confusion. He told me often that he didn't want to be alive anymore. I could understand how he felt but couldn't tell him that it was ok to go. In the end, he didn't ask my permission. He just left. I hope that it was his decision to go and that, wherever he is, he is finally happy and well and knows how very much we loved him.

Scott had feared for years that he would die alone and forgotten, without making his mark on the world, with no one to mourn him. To that I have to say, "Are you kidding me?" You will never be forgotten, Scott! You don't need the whole world to remember you to be immortal. You just need a few people to remember you with love. That you have, my dear, dear friend. All the best to you and see you when I get there.

On my own terms

Reading the newspaper on a Sunday morning isn't usually an uplifting experience for me. It might be invigorating. It might be mentally stimulating. Rarely, though, do I come away feeling inspired. Today was a little different. The Philadelphia Inquirer had an article about Arlen Specter. Senator Specter has come under a great deal of fire in his career, as I'm sure we're all aware. There have been times when I haven't agreed with his position. That didn't include me wanting to scream, "Are you kidding me?" at Senator Specter. Ok, outside my incredulity at the magic bullet theory, but he was young and I am a bit jaded.

There were segments of today's article that did bring out the "Are you kidding me?" trait in me but none of those feelings were directed at anything that Senator Specter did. Rather, it was at the belief system of adults that makes it seem sane to expect Senator Specter to vote the same way as his "party" on subjects as diverse as tax cuts and escalated torture. In what way, and in what world, would a group of people expect that someone's opinion would match theirs consistently in areas that diverse? Or, is the expectation that you supress your own belief system in loyalty to a the thoughts designed by an organization? If the expectation is to become part of the "political Borg", then how can we ever hope that our representatives can represent our interests, and maintain their own integrity, unless we also join the "Borg"? Many thanks to Gene Rodenberry and his associate writers for developing something as bizarre as the Borg to make it possible for me to clearly describe the insanity of this practice.

That encapsulates the negative portion of the substantial article about Senator Specter. The article was aptly entitled, "A Survivor on His Own Terms". Something in that struck a chord in me. Reminding me of the strength, not the insanity, of Don Quixote in Man of LaMancha as he sings, "...to be willing to march into hell, for a heavenly cause". This seems to be a quality that has been lost in America. I recall that, during the period leading up to our invasion of Iraq, I questioned what the government was doing and why. I felt strongly that we were being intentionally misled. People with whom I had been friends for years, people who respected me, told me that I wasn't a patriot. They told me that my loyalty had to be with our government. I suspect they assumed that the government would act only in the best interest of our citizens. However, if being part of the Borg is admired in our government, how can we possibly believe them capable of acting in our best interest? At best, its a partisan crapshoot. At worst, their need for unquestioning loyalty subverts our best interest.

Arlen Specter is unwilling to stop thinking as an individual and following the direction that his independent thought takes him. That is to be admired. It is to be applauded. When his name came up in articles in the past, I would find myself approving of what he had to say even if I didn't agree with him. Today, those feelings went a step further. I suddenly have a much deeper respect for Senator Specter and would love the opportunity to sit with him and discuss some things with him. More importantly, I feel that he would fairly consider what I have to say without asking for my political affiliation. He has recently been lambasted for changing political parties. I don't think he changed political parties so much as he walked away from a party in which he was clearly going to be blocked from continuing participation in government. His desire to be a participating member in the US government, in an effort to effect change, was stronger than his political alliances. He wasn't disloyal to the Republican party. They were disloyal to the American standard of independent thought and tolerance.

Here is a phrase that I think summarizes Arlen Specter, "Koolaid? No thanks! I think I'll pass!" Not being much of a Koolaid fan myself, I have to respect that! "Senator Specter, may I get you a martini with an olive or a glass of ice water?" I wouldn't mind being considered a survivor on my own terms. Hats off to Senator Specter!

Let the government handle it?

I've always been astounded by peoples' willingness to turn their problems over to government departments or agencies. After watching situations disintegrate even further after government departments and agencies get involved in a bad situation, people still seem to think that contacting these folks will help to resolve their problems.

Case in point in today's Philadelphia Inquirer, the paper relates the story of the people of Camden still living with the ugliest house in Camden. The state has taken over running Camden. As the Philadelphia Inquirer relates it, a law was passed in 2002 - that would be 8 years ago now - that the state of New Jersey would take over running Camden and that dangerous homes would be destroyed. These dangerous houses still stand, as does the ugliest house in Camden, because funding was not made available by the state until recently. Even with $500,000.00 available now, the house still stands.

What made the legislators, elected by the people of Camden, think it was in the best interest of their constituency to delve more deeply into governmental bureaucracy as a solution to the decimation of their city by poverty, crime, and hopelessness? Wouldn't it make sense that decreasing the amount of bureaucracy and enabling the people suffering the effects of the poverty, crime, and hopelessness to have an increased level of involvement and control would be a more fruitful route to turning around the decay of Camden? With the amount of time and energy invested by citizens in attempting to wander through the quagmire of red tape to get dangerous homes destroyed, their commitment to the project at hand shouldn't be questioned. The citizens are the people who would directly benefit from a quick solution. How about putting the power and control back in the hands of a committee of the people with the most to gain, the citizens? Or is there more to be gained by those involved in the massive machine that is the state?