Up On My Education System Soapbox…Continued Thoughts on Chicken Little

12 Mar

Newspapers, blogs and Facebook memes are filled with stories about what’s wrong with the American Education System.  It’s those lazy teachers!  It’s the teacher unions!  The school year is too short!  The school day needs to be longer!  Summer vacation is so long, students forget what they’ve learned!  Schools in poverty areas don’t provide the same level of education as schools in affluent neighborhoods!

Lots and lots of accusations.  Committees form to assess the situation.  Committees form to come up with accountability plans.  Tests are created to hold students accountable, though they tend to be used more for teacher and school accountability.  Committees form to assess the results of the assessments.  Committees form to bring curriculum in line with the assessments. Committees form to standardize instruction of the curriculum to the point where teachers across districts all each the same thing the same way on the same day.

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Tests are given in controlled environments where teachers read instructions, carefully warning students to not mark in the margins of the test booklets, often over a two-week time period where all instruction is ceased. The scores come back the following school year–5 to 6 months after the tests are completed, compiled school scores are published in local newspapers and the community runs around screaming, “The scores are falling!  The scores are falling!”

Loop back to accusations and committees.  Factor in multi-million dollar budget cuts, schools now focused entirely on readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmatic and we’ve stepped back to a time when few kids went to college, some went to trade schools or apprenticeships, and many worked hard labor or agricultural jobs.  The world is no longer that place.  We live in a complex world with complex problems that cannot be solved by learning there is one right answer that can be bubbled in on a test with a number two pencil.  ”Make your mark heavy and dark, if you need to change your answer be sure to erase completely.”

Universities worry students aren’t prepared for college-level coursework, and they’re right.  Public schools prepare students for tests, not to be problem solvers; many students are unable or unwilling to think for themselves, let alone wrap their heads around a problem that might have more than one correct solution.  Money is being funneled to the “core” subjects of reading, writing, math and sometimes science, now taught with lock-step precision with no room for exploration of the teachable moment.  Electives are cut, library services are reduced or cut, creativity and problem solving disappears from our children’s education.

The reason I’m on my soapbox today?  My college freshman, who went through the local school system, called last night after struggling through a research assignment.  The librarians were asked to not assist the students from this class–they were on their own with whatever research skills they brought with them.  The professor expects her students come with research skills.  What are our local schools doing to prepare our students for college-level research?  Cutting library services.  Librarians are often reduced to clerks, checking books in and out, completing book orders and paperwork, and proctoring the annual standardized testing.  There is precious little time for librarians to teach research and presentation skills; not that many teachers have time in their prescribed curricula to collaborate with their librarian in the first place.

The big mystery is why studies such as The Colorado Study are being ignored.  Schools with degreed, certified, teacher-librarians presenting a full and comprehensive library program from well-stocked and up-to-date library collections have higher test scores.  Higher test scores.  What all the Chicken Littles are seeking.  Not only would students get the researching skills they need (and not only for college, but for big life decisions like buying a car, buying a home, deciding where to live….), but the communities would have their coveted scores.

Don’t even get me started on test scores vs poverty, homelessness, kids whose parents are in and out of jail….  OR that at the bottom of it all, we’re talking about KIDS here.  Little people.  Precious little people who should be coloring and pretending in pre-school, not already in classes learning to read….  OR that over-analysis of books sucks the joy out of reading…..   OR  trying to teach subjects to kids who are not developmentally ready, just because that subject is on this year’s test….  OR testing kids with learning disabilities who read below grade level with tests AT grade level….

OK.  Breathe.  Gonna step down from my soapbox–for now–and have a cuppa.

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Thoughts on Chicken Little

31 Jan

So here I am.  A Liberal, environmentally conscious, organic food-eating, yoga-practicing, vegan.  I have a master’s degree, I am computer literate (but not in a Geek Squad sort of way by any stretch), I’m retired, married and the mom of an 18-year-old college freshman.  I make a point of practicing advice I got from my mom years and years ago: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, it’s best to say nothing.”  I’m tired of those who think a person like me is some sort of whack-a-do, and those who convince others to believe the same.

I was so happy for the Presidential election to be over.  I thought it would be the end of the hate-filled and inaccurate memes and rants on Facebook, editorials in the daily paper and TV commercials.  Sadly, this is not the case.  At all.  I have posted all sorts of pleas to fact-check before posting, to take a breath and remember we’re all friends on Facebook.  Have an opinion, no need to be ugly about it.  If you have the computer literacy to pass on a meme, you have the literacy needed to spend a minute or two fact-checking.  If something is worded in a way that raises your hackles, it’s possible that you’re a victim of propaganda.

Who are these people that start the hate to begin with?  The ones who write slanted and often inaccurate articles and memes.  How did they become so powerful that they can click a mouse and start an uprising of people who are educated and sane?  The hate happens on both sides of every “hot button” topic.  People saying whatever they think will bring people over to their side.  We’ve become a world of Chicken Littles afraid the sky is falling because we saw it on a Facebook meme.

I say it’s time to remember we ARE all friends here and quit giving the power to the bullies on the playground.  Breathe.  Check Snopes.  Respect opinions and diversity.  Bring back civility.  Have a cuppa your favorite brew.  Me, I’m having coffee.

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Vegan Forever?

25 Jan

So.  Four weeks into the vegan thang.  The word that comes to mind most often in reference to this change?  Happy. Happy with how I feel, happy with increased energy, happy that a few pounds have come off, happy with the food.  Here are a couple of examples of the yummy, satisfying meals we’ve been enjoying:

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I really don’t have cravings for things I was so used to eating; surprising to me as I have been an omnivore for over 50 years.  I still have some non-fat Greek yogurt in the fridge.  Not sure what to do about that.  I feel like I should eat it rather than waste it, or freeze it for later. But when will later be?  Little bit by little bit, our fridge and pantry are becoming vegan along with us.

One of the biggest bonuses: not feeling punished.  Other diets I’ve tried (hello, South Beach) have made me feel that way.  This “diet” feels more like treating myself to something really nice.  It feels sustainable.  I’m loving trying new recipes and ingredients.  I love converting favorite recipes into favorite vegan recipes.  I think about food a lot, but not because I feel like I’m starving.  All my favorite comfort foods (potatoes, breads, cereals, ….) came with me for the ride this time around.  I’m not missing oils and fats at all–I added a bit of veggie broth and some tomatillo salsa to a baked sweet potato for lunch–NO need to add the butter I have traditionally had on any potato.

Yup.  Happy.  And still happily caffeinated.

What is it About January?

6 Jan

It started snowing in December, and the snow is still on the ground.  Crunchy, glittery, fresh-looking.  Perfect for the holidays.  Foggy mornings leaving hoar-frosted boughs when the sun peeks out.

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But brrrrrrr!  It’s January and I’m over it.  I’m tired of being cold and  ready for a whole round of new.  What is it about January that creates the mind-set for newness?  Is it as simple as a pristine calendar, eagerly awaiting appointments and travel plans?  Is it how bare my house looks when Christmas decorations are finally stored in their boxes? (Hasn’t happened yet….maybe next weekend after Mr18 heads back to college.)  Is it ingrained in our society, the talk of New Year’s resolutions?  I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, because I’m so there.  Ready to open the door to new.  Ready to try on who I will be as a result of the new.  Committed to a new life-style change.

Michael and I have decided to go vegan.  And fat-free.  This is huge for people who love food as much as we do.  We’re not obese, but could stand to lose a pound or two or ten.  We’re not out of shape.  Not completely.  Well, we’re not marathon-ready anymore.  We eat reasonably healthy, but our cholesterol could be a lot lower.

Our neighbors have been on a diet based on Dr. Caldwell Esselsyn’s book, Prevent and Reverse Heart Disease, for a year.  They have lost weight, they feel great and have more energy.  Michael has a history of heart disease in his family and wants to do anything he can to not be a heart attack waiting to happen.

I must confess to a fair amount of reluctance.  When I’ve gone for days cooking nothing but vegetables for dinner, Michael hasn’t been happy about it.  He’s not a big-time carnivore, but he loves chicken.  I was dreading cooking that way all the time AND not being able to add in cheese or dairy of any sort besides.  I was raised to make people happy with food.  I was also reluctant because I love eggs and dairy.  Waaaaaah.  I want an egg over-easy.  An omelette.  A baked brie.  Sour cream on my baked potato.

After my initial reluctance, and reading a kinder, gentler, less gloom-and-doom version of the diet (The Engine 2 Diet by Dr. Esselsyn’s son, Rip), I’m coming along for the ride.  My new challenge is to get the flavors and textures I love without some of my favorite ingredients.  How I love ham hocks in potato soup, sigh.  After just a few days, I’m liking it.  I get to have most of my carb-y friends, like potatoes, rice and bread.  Dinner isn’t dependent on what meat is thawed.  My fat-free version of potato soup is in the crock pot and smells promising, thanks to a new secret weapon–Hickory Grill Shaker.

Our new treadmill is assembled and waiting for me to go for a walk that will eventually be a run as I try on the new and improved me.  I’ll let you know how it goes; you can follow the vegan recipes on my food blog, Somethin’ Yummy.  Might be treating ourselves to a binge now and then as goals are met.  Not giving up coffee, though.

 

Heart Roller Coaster

13 Mar

Tonight I’m writing with a heavy heart, all squinked up and small, just days after my heart felt like the Grinch’s at the end of the story, where it grows 3 sizes in one day.  A Mom’s heart has to be pretty elastic for the many ups and downs of raising a baby to a boy to a man.

The sheer joy of his birth.

The times when he cried and continued to cry after I had fed him, burped him, changed him, rocked him and bounced him.  (So I cried with him.)

His cute little gummy grin.  His first tooth…marking the end of the gummy grin.

The funny, silly way he said things; the way he put words together.

The time he tearfully sobbed, “Momma, you hurt my heart.”

Learning to ride a bike.

Crashing the bike and getting a huge owie–as his dad put it: “he left part of his knee at the end of the driveway.”

Finding out how academically talented he is.

Finding the work he hadn’t turned in, in his locker.

Playing the “you WILL be in music in middle school” card, he picks band, ends up with trumpet, hates the trumpet and wants to quit band.

“Pick a different instrument.”  He falls in love with saxophone.

Learning to drive, getting his license.

Watching him drive out of the driveway the first time on his way to school at 6am.

High school: alto sax, soprano sax, tenor and bari, clarinet, oboe, flute and euphonium.  Marching Band, 3 Concert Bands, top Jazz Band.

Girls.  Nuff said.

Acceptance to a university, oboe and sax auditions, acceptance to the university’s school of music.  A state-wide honor (or honour, using the British spelling he prefers) band, an amazing alto sax feature with Spectrum, the jazz band.

And today.  I found out he had changed dorms, not necessarily for the better.  We had a text discussion over Facebook postings and what growing up is and is not.  Times like this when I feel compelled to let the air out of his exuberance raises little barriers between us.  He chose to stay at his dad’s tonight to let things settle out a bit. 

He’s an awesome kid.  He’s accomplished so much, has a pretty good plan for his future–all the way to a doctorate.  He’s always been so easy.  Days like this, when some sort of guidance must come from me and is not exactly well received, well, they hurt my heart.  I know this is what parenting is at times, and I know I’ve been amazingly lucky.  I also know we love each other the most-mostest, and the barriers will go away.  New ones will happen, but love, and maybe a cup of coffee, will help us keep taking them back down.  So proud to be his Mom.  <3

My Yard, Dressed for Fall

23 Jan

Today, I was going through my phone, moving and deleting pictures, and came across a group of fall color pictures.  I took them while we were blowing out the sprinkler system.  My job is watching the last sprayer or dripper on a line to be done dripping while Michael has to hold the air compressor hose at the start of the line.  This takes a while, but I get to move around where Michael is just stuck where he is.  I amused myself by playing photographer, having the best intentions to use them in a blog post when they were freshly taken.  Ah well, fall is also marching band season, a super busy time for a band mom. 

It was fun remembering how vivid the colors were, especially in the midst of a grey and taupe time of year.  And so, I invite you to marinate in the warm hues of my autumnal landscape.

Let’s start with the only crabapple that survived the spring frost…three crabapple trees, one crabapple.

These are Mexican Sunflowers.  This plant changes its position each year–resulting in a yearly re-do of the drip system to adjust for sprinklers to get around this tall, tall plant.

I have two hedge maples; they have a weird corky bark and are the last trees to turn color each year.  When they drop their leaves, you can see the sparrow nests–two or three in each tree–sparrow condos!

My ginnala clump maple turns bright purple overnight and drops all of its leaves just a couple days later.  You can see the majority of the leaves already on the ground, creating a violet skirt in the grass.

This aspen is so happy.  It shouldn’t be, aspens hate growing here in the valley.  It never gets as golden as a mountain aspen, but it tries.

I worked all the way to the closing day at the Greenhouse this year.  I’m such a sucker for bloomy things; I couldn’t resist the cheery color of this mum.

Or these.

Meet  the autumn purple ash.  It’s a baby tree and this is the first year I’ve seen it change color.  It has so few leaves, that it seems to turn and drop in a matter of hours.

I planted this cottonwood 14 or 15 years ago.  It was just a rooted stick we got from a friend then.  Now it’s home to a family of orioles every summer; they build their hanging pocket nest way up at the tippy top of the tree.

And finally, my favorite picture.  How beautiful are strawberries after a frost?

I think it would be fun to take pictures of every season.  I’ll wait for a warmish day and look for something interesting hidden in the grey and taupe.  Then I’ll come in and warm up with a cup of coffee while I blog (in a more timely fashion).

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Where I’m From

21 Jan

With the recent passing of my Mom, I’ve been immersing myself in memories, keeping her alive in my heart.  We didn’t always get along or agree on things, but Mom is the single biggest influence on who I am.  Some years ago, I assigned my students to write a poem with a particular structure–The “Where I’m From” poem.  Even though they have a set format, they are cathartic and beautiful.  I wrote one as an example, and came across it just this week.  Great memories of Mom here.

I am from clothes on the line and starched collars, from a 7-Up bottle with a sprinkling lid, wetting wrinkles out of my dad’s shirts and Mom’s capris.

I am from a banister, sliding down with my sister when my parents weren’t looking.

I’m from the smell of mock orange in the spring, its pretty white petals like snow when seen from the branches of the climbing tree.

I am from a gang of kids playing cowboys and indians through the alleys, splashing barefoot through puddles and feeding breadcrumbs to ducks at the park.

I am from cornflakes with banana slices in Grandma’s kitchen, the fins of Grandpa’s tan Chevy, and their fancy aluminum Christmas tree.

I am from wait til your father gets home, from I’m your mother, that’s why.

I’m from fudge cooled in the snow, entire pans of Rice Crispy Treats eaten in front of The Partridge Family and sauerbraten with gingersnap gravy.

I am from First Communion, Confirmation and Christmas Midnight Mass; a veil over my blond braids every Sunday.

In a brown leather album, my mom kept for me, I am the baby who grew into a girl who vacationed, had birthdays in the park and sat with my cousins on a couch.

Here’s the very first picture in that brown leather album.  Mom and me, 1959.

Before she died, Mom and I called each other every week to have a cup of coffee together across the miles between our houses.  Have a cup of coffee with your mom this week, if you can.

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