Wednesday, December 30, 2009

We're almost at the end of the first decade of this new millennium. In looking back at where I was 10 years ago, even though my marriage was a terminal failure, the X and I spent and unplanned and expensive New Year's Eve on The Ugly Duckling, a dinner cruise ship docked at Navy Pier. After dinner, we stood on the deck, the wind chill of our marriage equal to the icy night air, and although the splendid display of fireworks over the lakefront was spectacular, sharing it within the context of a dead marriage, made it empty. Nine months later, I finally found the courage to leave her, only looking back to make sure she was no longer in sight.

Y2K, the apocalyptical warning about all of the worlds computers crashing because they were not prepared for the year 2000, was much ado about nothing. It did not happen.

During much of this decade, I've worked very hard to change myself, my way of thinking and behavior, starting with my relationships with myself and my higher power, and then fanning outward with my relationships to others -- family, friends, colleagues, and associates, old and new. I've grown older, finding that my knees rebel against the added weight I've gained from my depression weight loss at the end of the marriage to the present. Sure the holiday season may have added a few pounds, but I'm still easily 20lbs overweight. My face has aged gracefully, but my body struggles with gravity.

During this decade, professionally I've gone from being English Department Chair to Technology Coordinator to Freshman English Teacher to Displaced Teacher to Retired. Forces have worked with and against me, or more accurately I've learned how to work with these forces, and presently I'm adjusting to retirement from the Chicago Public Schools.

I have not remarried, but I have reestablished, rekindled, and renewed old relationships, and have forged new ones, redefining my understanding of intimacy. I feel richer in so many ways as I approach 2010, and I am grateful for my recovery journey, for it truly has helped me change.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

During my recent road trip at the beginning of August 2009 to cousin Rickie's house in Lexington, Virginia, with my mom, I interviewed my mom and Uncle Ed, together and separately.

In the following interview, Uncle Ed talks about the house he built in Miami and raising his family there.



In this video, my mother talks about growing up in the Englewood neighborhood in the 20's and 30's.



One evening, sitting on Rickie and Peter's porch with Uncle Eddie, my mom, and Rickie:

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

It has been 3 months since my last post to this blog, although in the beginning of the school year I maintained a blog about dealing with the demeaning experience of being a displaced tenured teacher working as a substitute teacher. I've also written several editorials about the Chicago Board of Education and the CEO Arne Duncan's decision to dismiss the entire staff of Harper (except for the newly placed incompetent administration), which in effect blamed the systemic Central Office neglect of Harper, its inner city impoverishment (not the least of which has been academic poverty), and its subsequent failure to progress (acceptable yearly progress based on NCLB) on the teachers. Every time I read an editorial praising the work Arne Duncan did as Chicago Public Schools' CEO, I had to respond with what I believe is the truth about his success.

In an Edutopia article, Reform Starts Now: Obama Pics Arne Duncan, I commented:

"I am not encouraged by Obama's choice for Secretary of Education. Based on my experiences under Arne Duncan's leadership, I had my school, which was on probation, but which had made significant improvements, backslide to become the worst high school in the city under 3 successive principals placed in the school by Mr. Duncan. The creation of magnet schools and academies had drawn the most academically capable and ambitious students out of our feeder elementary schools, leaving us the most challenged and at-risk students, and an enrollment of 30-35% special needs students.

Instead of looking at our students and what our school needed, Mr. Duncan used a "one size fits all" policy, which closed our vocational education program and pushed a college prep. curriculum. At the same time, social promotion became the unofficial practice again, and we started to receive students who were several years below their grade level, and if we failed students, were asked to justify it with the remediation plans we implemented for each an every student who failed. When we continued to show no improvement in the standardized tests on this uneven playing field, Mr. Duncan fired the entire staff, hiring almost an entirely new staff, calling the school a "turn-around" school.

As a teacher very much affected by this policy, I admit I am biased, but I believe such a drastic process broadcasts a negative message about the very dedicated teachers who work in extremely challenging schools. It punished all of us who were dedicated to the inner-city community where we had taught for years, and in many ways successful, because it assessed us on the basis of standardized tests and school attendance.

But let me end this on a positive note: if Mr. Duncan has learned any lesson from his "one size fits all" educational policy, it should be that with the assistance of technology, every student can have an individualized educational plan, because everyone has special needs. I would suggest that Mr. Duncan spend some time with the ed-tech visionaries who frequent this and other similar blog, wiki, and ning educational networks. I would send Arne back to school for some professional development. Unfortunately, I'm afraid he may believe the spin about all of the great successes he has had, that has been shoved down our national throats."

And in an Edutopia poll question: Do you think education will be better off in four years? I responded:

"My experiences teaching for the Chicago Public Schools for the last 32 years leaves me feeling somewhat pessimistic about the future of the schools. In this city, politics and patronage usually supplants educational experience and knowledge. Although Arne Duncan is personable and has a clean record, under his tenure as CEO of the Chicago Public Schools, we have experienced more school closings and replacement of entire staff than actual reform or addressing individual school needs. It has been a policy of one size fits all, but within the context of an uneven playing field created by Central Office policies and the inequities from neighborhood socio-economics. In order to keep white and middle class families from fleeing to suburban and private schools, Chicago has created magnet schools and academies that have selective enrollment, leaving neighborhood schools with less motivated students that have less academic skills and that cannot filter out low achieving students. Yet every school is assessed by the same standardized tests. Most of the "failing" schools continue to fail, so the policy now is to close the schools and fire all the teachers. In Chicago, we hear that 50% of the public schools will be privatized by 2015. If this is the direction our new Secretary of Education plans for the schools nationally, I'm afraid it's the death knell for the public schools. I don't believe this is the type of reform that will create better schools and higher achieving students."

A Time Magazine editorial called Arne Duncan an "Apostle of Reform", which I responded to in my Classroom2.0 Ning site blog. I have been writing about my subjective observations as it relates to school reform, because it impacted on me and forced me to retire from CPS before I had planned to. I have engaged in listserv dialogue, specifically at wwwedu, a Yahoo educational group, responding to Duncan's desire to flip NCLB and to scale up, and have tried to maintain my objectivity.

It is the first week of summer vacation, and other than a few years where I taught English in summer school or assisted with technology more recently at Harper's Bridges Program, I look forward to reading and traveling and preparing for next school year. Except now I am retired from the Chicago Public Schools and will be exploring my options in other school districts as a teacher and/or consultant. The adventure continues....

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Here's a prime example of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are from Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix.

The professor told his class one day, "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send
it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely no talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of his students, Rebecca and Gary.

THE STORY
(1st paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(2nd paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic
communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particlebean flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and SpaceTravel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she wondered wistfully.

(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anudrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anudrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F**KING TEA???! Oh no, WHAT AM I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)
A**hole

(Gary)
Bitch

(Rebecca)
F**K YOU, YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)
Go drink some tea, whore.


(TEACHER)
A+ . . . I really liked this one.



Disclaimer: The Gary in this exchange was not me.