Resistance is Futile

Look at me, quoting Star Trek.  Who knew?  (hint:  not me)

My daughter's art teacher ripped up one of her works.

So, I'm struggling.  Again.  You know what they say:  same shit, different day. 

I'm struggling--as ever--with school, with schooling, with everything that comes along with it. Again.

I'm struggling with the state of public education, in which standardized tests are central, worksheets are rampant, and innovative and creative attempts at promoting social development, including reducing bullying and interpersonal conflict are but gestures.

I'm struggling mightily with the idea of "art class" existing within such a system.  I am struggling with the bastardization of the word "art" that is the natural consequence. Art is not "making things".  Art is Art.

I'm struggling with my own internal conflict about teachers, teacher competence, teacher training, certification, merit-based pay, and teacher unions, and finding myself, much to my chagrin, a cynical critic of a system that vigorously supports mediocrity and strategizes about how teachers can keep their jobs (at any cost) rather than strategizing about how to reach kids. 

I'm struggling with the juxtaposition of books like A New Mind, which is all the rage in education and cultural circles, and the parallel universe of schools, teachers, and pedagogy.  I'm struggling with understanding how important ideas and innovations fail to trickle down to those in the trenches.

I'm struggling with the decision, made last November, to move my daughter from a small private school that addresses many of these concerns, to a public school.  I'm struggling with the knowledge that, despite the fact that many of the concerns were met in that private school, there was still something in the "school-ness" and hierarchy of it that didn't work.

I'm struggling with the awareness that for most kids, it works okay (I would dispute the idea that it's terrific for anyone).  And I'm struggling with what that says about me, about my child, about the system, about those other kids. I'm struggling with the evil little voices in my head that dwell on what you are thinking about me and about my child when you read this.  I am swirling in the talk about how it seems fine to you despite its weaknesses, about how your kids love it and are thriving, and what must be wrong with my kid that it doesn't work.

There's nothing wrong with my kid.  

Read this--its conclusion is unschooling, which may not be feasible for us, but read it anyway, if only for the description of her child.  This is my daughter.

You know it, and I know it.  You can't put a square peg in a round hole.  At least not without destroying its integrity, that is.

I'm struggling--perhaps most of all--with the ruthlessness of childhood and peer relations.  I am wondering why that is so, why we accept it as "normal", and what can be done about it.  "Yeah, kids are mean." Or it's more apt variation "Girls are mean".  I've said it.  You've said.  Probably even your kids have said it.  Mine certainly has. We say it like it's fact, not like it's something we can change as parents, as teachers, as adults.  This disgusts me, infuriates me, and smacks of abandoning responsibility.  This is not to say that my child does not engage in some of those behaviors.  It is only to say that they are never allowed to slide in the guise of "that's how kids are". No.

There is one thing I know for sure.  Like any parent, I want the best education and the best social relationships and the best self-esteem and the best outcomes for my child, who is very bright, kind, generous, sensitive, argumentative, and definitely out-of-the box.  Different.  

And the other thing that I know for sure is that, in standing for her, I don't have very many people around me.  And even fewer systems or institutions.

When I feel like this, I look around. It's not a misery-loves-company thing, like you might expect. It's more like a rebel-loves-company thing. It's different. Have you ever been the odd one out? The "different" one? And yet one that somehow knows that things could be different, that this is not your "lot in life" or an inevitable outcome of your peculiarity? In that state--believe me--you're looking not for someone to moan with you, but someone who will mirror back the absurdities that prevent a company, a bureaucracy, a school system, a culture, from adapting or even considering anything new, anything "different". You know. Peers.

Anyway, I looked around. And thanks to this big 'ol huge party called the internet, it's nearly always possible to find what you're looking for (confetti, cheering). When i saw the title of the piece in the google results, I had a feeling. "How The Public School System Crushes Souls" Yup. And yup.

I know, it worked fine for you. It even worked fine for me, and I'm "different". 

Wait a minute. Did it?  

First of all, I was compliant (for a while, anyway).  So any conclusions that might be formed about the effectiveness of public school for me, or lack thereof, are pretty much tainted right from the start.  Schools--public schools, private schools--are predicated on compliance and conformity.  If you've got that, then they basically work.  That's not to say they give you a top-notch education, but if you've got as part of your anatomy the Tab A that goes into their Slot A, you've got a better chance of it.  

Secondly, I was pretty smart.  Not that smart is always a good thing in public school, but I was "Mom-can-I-please-please-please-get-that-math-workbook-it-looks-s0-fun" kinda smart.  When I was in elementary school, my best friend and I used to write research papers in our free time for fun.  You get the idea.  Anyway, that works well in public school.  

Although if it all worked so well, I do wonder why I emerged from high school with barely a B average, and why I got C's, D's (and one F!) in college, leading me to graduate late with barely a B average (again).  I do know one thing.  It pretty much ruled out graduate school.  It eliminated a whole group of professions that I had longed for, but which work better when you start young (that's all I'm gonna say on that--don't get me started).  And it left me in the work world, at 22, with the idea that I was not particularly bright at all.  More to the point, I thought I was dumb. 

It took me until I was 36 to get it that I wasn't dumb.  It took a year at Harvard Graduate School of Education with some kick-ass professors (never before, and never again, have I had as powerful a lesson about the importance of the teacher).  It took living and working for only nine months in a community of peers.  It took a few friends who "got me", and who reflected back.

After eight months in public school, my daughter thinks that she is stupid, and that no one wants to be friends with her.  And she loves her school and wants to stay there.

I can't watch this.  I can't support it.  

Ilities & Anities

You know. Humility. Insanity. Adaptability. Applicability. Ability. In-breeding. Oops. Sorry. I got carried away.

I'm looking back and realizing that I've already commented on this here, at least in a manner of speaking. But much to my shock and dismay, the world hasn't changed yet, so it appears to be time to say it again. Do you have your thinking cap on? I'm wondering if maybe that was the problem. Look how hard this little girl is trying. Give it a go.

Yeah, I know. Miss Nancy let you down, and never saw you through the Magic Mirror. The same thing happened to me. It was a hard road, but I've recovered (take what you like and leave the rest). So can you. So get out your thinking cap anyway. The grudge thing may be satisfying (don't I know it), but it's unbecoming.

This time, I am inspired once again by a video, which came to me courtesy of a facebook friend. Here you go. Take a look see.



Come to think of it, that's not quite true (that it inspired me). The video is interesting, sure. But in itself, it does not compel me to write. It's the responses, the comments, the fact that this video, and others like it, have apparently been created and circulated for years now. There's a lot of "interesting" and nodding going around. But there is still a serious problem. I see a lot of knowing nods, but I don't see people demanding anything different out of our schools. And that, my friends, is what gets me fired up.

Now, I'm not a big fan of trite. But you know that thing about the definition of insanity? About doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Well, welcome to our educational system. Yes, even under Obama.

Every time something like this comes up, every time a friend posts something like this video, every time I see some "startling" (yes, that does belong in quotes) article in the news about the future job market or how right-brained folks are the future (blah blah blah, though everyone should read this book just so that we're all in the loop), it makes me want to scream.

There is no doubt that we have no clue what our children's futures will be like, what jobs will be like when they are grown, but we continue to educate them as we were educated. For a different time, for a different era, for a world that is largely long gone. As that wonderful Gibran poem and song says "...for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams". Amen.

Yes. Competition (if that's what you want to call it, though don't you think it's a bit of a misnomer in a global economy and a digitally interconnected global community? What difference does it make if we're all working together?) is fierce. One country has better math scores. Another has more honors students. We have to catch up, we have to do better, we can do better than them--these are the mantras. Our best universities are packed with foreign students! We have to find out what they're teaching, how they're teaching, which curriculum to use, how much more homework to assign, how long the school day or year needs to be, what we can do to dominate the world educationally. Why we want or need to do that, I'm not quite sure, but that's what they say, anyway. Don't shoot the messenger.

Here's the problem (ATR*). And here's where it gets sticky. Very sticky. The answers to these questions--the reasons why we do not do as well as other countries, why our children are not as prepared to compete (it makes me shake my head every time I write it) as those in some other countries--are very unpopular. And most definitely politically incorrect. They have, in my view, far more to do with homogeneity and heterogeneity, than with anything even remotely related to our public school system or methods of assessment. But we can't talk about the former. So we tinker endlessly with the latter.

It's got a whole lot in common with one of my other favorite arguments...that when children are failing in middle school, we look at how they were or were not "ready for kindergarten".

Now, don't get me wrong. You couldn't meet anyone on this planet who would advocate more vigorously for early intervention and comprehensive high quality early education than yours truly. I've devoted my whole professional life to it.

At the same time, I defer, as ever, to a comment made years ago by Ed Zigler (one of the founders of Head Start, Sterling Professor Emeritus at Yale, and Director Emeritus of the Edward Zigler Center on Child Development and Social Policy at Yale) at a meeting I attended with him at Yale. He was discussing the successes and pitfalls of early education, and mentioned just the scenario I outlined, in which early education is "blamed". He responded directly to those in elementary education, those complaining about children "falling behind". He said, and I quote, "Early education is not an inoculation. I sent them to you ahead in kindergarten. What have you done with them since then?". Double amen.

Look. I'm a parent. I've got a kid in public school (one of the best districts in Massachusetts) Maybe you have a kid in public school too. Or even private school. Same deal. While you're watching these videos, and reading these articles and books about the future need for right-brained ability, for creativity, for thinking "different", stop and think. How much of that do you see reflected in the curriculum and practices of your local school? Would you know it if you saw it? Do you see those things being measured or valued? Or do you see largely what you remember from school---worksheets, tests, facts, multiplication, division, fractions (do we really think in 20 years that ANYONE is going to do math on paper?), standard reading comprehension, mass-produced social studies texts? Do you see things like these revised lesson plans?

So how do we respond? We argue for continued "higher standards". Who could argue with that? President Obama says "The solution to low test scores is not lower standards; it's tougher, clearer standards.". Maybe, just maybe, the problem with low test scores is TESTS. It's like the person who looks for their keys far from where s/he dropped them because "the light is better over here".

To his credit, Obama acknowledges that standards must not "simply measure whether students can fill in a bubble on a test but whether they possess 21st century skills like problem-solving and critical thinking, entrepreneurship and creativity." That's good. It's a start. But it still misses the point. Testing, "standards", rubrics, hierarchies....these things are left-brained analytical constructs. You simply can't measure real creativity and critical thinking that way. Out-of-the-box thinking can only be measured in out-of-the-box ways by out-of-the-box people. To my knowledge, our education systems are not overflowing with those folks (yeah, I'm prone to understatement).

Obama says that his plan will be "tied to results". Tough to take issue with that. Results are good.

I still have a question (I always do). It's about this "results" thing.

Better results? Or different results? They are distinct. I'm for the latter. I'm not holding my breath.

In the meantime, I'm keeping this sign up on our living room wall, where it's been since my daughter was born.

I've been told that I'm asking for trouble. I sure hope so.

*According To Robin (of course)

Trash, Pride, Art

There seems to be a theme emerging. (famous last words if I ever heard them)

Yesterday, I talked about feeling so proud of my kid I could just burst. And I'll be damned if it didn't happen again.

So let me ask you a question. If your kid came to you, excitedly said "Mommy! I have a present for you!!" and stood there, hands behind her back (clearly holding the treasured object), eyes filled with absolutely-certain-that-you-are-gonna-love-this anticipation, what would you imagine that she held behind her back? Really. Stop and think about it. What would you hope was back there? A picture that she drew? A story? A cookie? A diamond? A perfect report card? A stiff drink?

Okay, got that image in your head? Think about it, and don't show your card to anyone else.

This is what my 9-year-old daughter gave to me (I mention her age only so that you know that this isn't one of those oh-how-cute or oh-how-sweet stories that automatically go along with anything a three year old brings you, like a piece of lint or a half-drunk bottle of spring water)


Yes, they are exactly what they look like. Smashed eyeglass frames, minus the temples. "I found them in the parking lot! I think they must have gotten run over lots and lots of times because they're so flat!"

Yes, I know this might not have been what you imagined she was holding behind her back, barely able to keep it hidden, her excitement so great. Me? I swell with pride. That's my girl.

She picked them up because they had been run over a lot of times. She picked them up because they reminded her of my late father's glasses (I agree, and what a great reason whether I agree or not). She picked them up because they were "cool". But more than anything, she picked them up because I have taught her that this is a great habit. (Public Service Announcement: Purell-lovers, time to stop reading now). She picked them up because she thought I would appreciate them and include them in some future artwork in some fashion. She was right.

On my birthday, a little over two years ago, she and I took a walk to my favorite restaurant for breakfast. It was the highlight of my day. I carried a plastic ziploc bag, as I usually do, so that the odds and ends found along the way would have safe place to rest until it was their turn to become part of something new. We call it treasure. We've always done this.

"Let's look for treasure!"
"Yeah! Let's!"

When she was a toddler, I would ask if she wanted to go for a walk--with me, with her babysitter. Her answer was often a resounding "No!"--not only because she was two, but also because she is a kid who likes to "stay close" and always has. "Will you bring me back some treasures?" And she's out the door.

On my birthday, it was a long medium-short walk to the restaurant, and a longer walk back, as we had to take a different route, becuase what if there is other stuff on the other streets?

Within the first five minutes, an elaborate story had begun. I had nothing to do with it. It was a story about a spacecraft from another planet that had landed in this neighborhood and had left some broken parts scattered around, and if we could find them all, they would give us vital clues to the identity and location of the visitors. So we looked. And we looked. And we found important clues, let me tell you, from infinitesimal slips of paper with words on them to pieces of circuit boards to metal washers. I can't tell you the story. Number one, it's classified. You know how that alien stuff is. Our government is crazy about that stuff. I don't want that kind of trouble. And Number two, it's our story. Mostly hers. And it might be true. Nobody knows for sure, do they?

With every treasure found, I feel as if I have succeeded. I have succeeded in conveying the art in every object, art that might not have existed had the item not been run over so many times. I have succeeded in communicating the potential for new life and creation out of the mundane, broken, and discarded. I have succeeded in representing the world as a place where a walk can become a grand adventure to a distant planet, where a bent penny can be the first line of a story yet to be written. I have succeeded in relaying that life is filled with magic.

When she gave me these smashed eyeglasses, she was thrilled. But I am quite certain she did not think I could (or would) use them to see. Hey, no one is right about everything.

Does it get any better than this?

Running Away To Join the Circus

There comes a time, at least for people like me (if there are indeed, other people like me, which the jury is still out on), when you have to get creative about what you're going to do to pay the rent (and the cable bill, because, well, life isn't worth living without old movies, re-runs of reality shows, and the science channel). Because you know, not to be too gloomy or anything, life is short. Or at the very least, its length is unpredictable. You read (or watched) "The Last Lecture", you know what I'm sayin'. (You didn't? You should, even though it's been overpublicized to death, no pun intended). Yeah, I know, I shouldn't tell you what you should do. Fine. Do what you want, what do I care.

But you know, as glib as I am...(and I am, even if only to have the opportunity to write that word...glib...I mean, who made up that word, isn't it so great?)...I mean it.

Maybe it comes from visiting a wonderful sweet 5 1/2 year old boy in the hospital as he (and his family) bravely faces childhood cancer.

Maybe it comes from spending a whole day in an emergency room a couple of weeks back, only to find out after all kinds of tests and a follow-up visit to my regular doc, that there's nothing wrong. But of course there is (something wrong)--something that is, by the way, a whole hell of a lot easier to fix than most of the things the doctors could have found. I've even been cleared to run around a field waving my hands like an idiot and doing somersaults, which was really bumming me out to not be able to do.

Maybe it comes from feeling like crap after yelling at my kid, essentially for not conforming, which has just got to put me in the running for the Irony Award of 2009.

Maybe it comes from midlife, with all of its glorious temperature changes and sleep disturbances.

Or maybe it doesn't come from any of those things. Maybe I'm just waking up and smelling the coffee (which I'm not drinking anymore, but I still love that turn of phrase). Whatever. It's about damn time.

I've been feelin' for a while that one of those times is approaching. I am being thrust (note the passive voice) , after putting up the fight of a lifetime, into the realization that I just stink at some things. Conformism, mostly.

I've been reading books. Visualizing. Working hard on "trusting the path". Browsing yard sales for old mugs that say "Follow Your Bliss" or dog-eared copies of "Do What you Love, The Money will Follow". Yeah, right.

And I've been thinking. A lot.

I've got a lot of ideas so far. No, really, I do. Some of them are even good ideas. And some of them might even make enough to pay the rent, with food thrown in for good measure (whoa, I'm giddy just thinking about it). Some of them, you'll be sad to know, are actually reflective of my academic training and work experience. But chin up--it's only some. You'd be surprised at some of the things that interest me (or maybe you wouldn't). Like this, for example:




I ask you, who wouldn't want to do that? I mean, summer is approaching, the fairs are every weekend, the average joe and joella are easy to please (I mean, really, there's a recession on, people just want a reason to smile), and it doesn't require pushing any papers or negotiating with anyone or being a particular age or having a certain degree or dressing any special way or extolling your virtues or even really getting along with people. There's no big capital outlay, you don't need investors, and best of all, you don't have to justify anything to anyone. And no matter what you do during the week, it's a weekend gig. And my kid says she's in. Perfect.

No. I saw it first. Okay, so it was on youtube, where anyone can see it. But I still saw it first. Because I said so, that's why.

As for the other ideas...I'm not tellin'. Because I don't have to. Stay tuned. I probably won't be able to keep my mouth shut. But no copying. For real. If you don't believe me, listen to the girl. She means business.