Education

   I was just reading an article citing a new bill in California meant to stop schools from putting students into classes in which nothing is actually taught. Basically, the real life equivalent to what young Lauryn Hill called a "bird course" in the 1993 class, Sister Act 2. My issue is with the public's shock and awe that such classes exist. Hey! I experienced that in classes that were SUPPOSED to be curriculum-based! I had to bring my dad into my high school and "threaten" the superintendent and counselor in order to remove myself from a horrible teacher my junior year who could barely find time to teach between her bouts of sobbing as she walked to the office and screaming at students when she thought that today would finally be the day that she would teach. This isn't abnormal. In fact, if we look at the United States educational system, we'd probably find it's most normal.
   Let me preface this post with, I recognize that I am lucky to have received the education I did. I had a lot of good teachers. I also know that, because I grew up in the Midwest, I received a better education than most. I had more one-on-one time with teachers, I had a school that was (mostly) well-funded for academics, and a lot of teachers who actually cared about the students and helping them learn. I don't look at all teachers and condemn them. My father is an educator, my aunt is, my mom went to school to be a teacher, and my stepmother teaches as well. I recognize that teachers don't just work a forty-hour work week. They take work home, they invest in their own supplies, and they put up with other people's children for eight hours a day, five days a week. For that alone they should be paid better than any studio executive in Hollywood. Education cannot be blamed on teachers alone. It takes a village, and America, the village is failing.
   Let's be real, kids' behavior is different now than it was in the 1950s and 1960s. All those rebels who championed the peace movement went on to have kids and they didn't want to raise their children the way they had been raised-stifled by the patriarchy. So, those kids didn't understand rules. Then those kids had kids and they thought, "My parents were too distant, they weren't involved enough," so they raised their children trying to be friends instead of authority figures. These mistakes have led us to today. Teaching is hard, especially when you're trying to manage 20-30 (sometimes more) wiggly little balls of energy who have never had to listen at home. Couple that with parents who believe their child can do no wrong and you have an incendiary situation. Authority is intangible. It is not something one can possess until he or she gives it up. If a child is put into a classroom and their parent signals that the teacher does not know all, is not someone the child should trust or respect, the kid won't. It's doesn't have to be as blatant as saying, "Don't listen to Teacher, they don't know anything," kids are incredibly insightful. They can see and feel the vibes people give off. Education isn't just dropping your kid off at the door to the classroom and parenting is done: education starts and ends at home. Teaching, schooling, is all about teamwork. If you don't want that responsibility, don't have kids. Straight up.
   Parental involvement saved me when I was in school. I'm conceited. I know it. I think I'm smarter than everybody and, as my dad pointed out, I want everyone to know it. Thankfully, I had my parents to know some sense into me. They were always on my side, but it was never assumed I was in the right. My dad coming to school to support my choice to skip that horrible junior class was because I had outlined how horribly my sophomore one went. I tried to have one of my high school teachers fired because we were an entire semester in to school and had only done three assignments and not even talked about the election, during an election year. When my dad found out how vocal I had been, he called to speak to said teacher and wanted to know if I needed to be put in my place. It's all about balance. And this experience, the fact that I tried to have this teacher fired and not only are they still at my old high school, but they're just as ineffective, highlights to me a hugely important issue in American schooling. We complain about problem teachers, but we do very little to fix those problems. Testing is not the answer. Judging a teacher based on how their students do on a standardized test is not the way to go about it, You can walk in to a class and tell when students are engaged. You can see when a group of people are getting what's being taught. And, with a little bit of involvement, parents and administrators can really see when teachers are bad. But it takes time and commitment and that's something that very few people seem to have at the moment.
   So, no, I'm not as offended that students are being shuttled into classes that aren't meant to teach them anything. I'm more offended by what we pass off as education in some classes that are meant to teach. I'm more offended by parents who will bend any ear in the vicinity about the horrible excuses we have for teachers, but who won't make their student do his/her homework. I'm offended that our solution to making sure students learn more is to test them to death. I'm offended that parents expect teachers to teach as well as babysit (and let's be real, sometimes raise the kids) in the eight hours they have during the day. I'm offended that we as a country don't seem bothered enough to do anything about the fact that our students have fallen way behind international students. I'm offended that more people know about the Armenian genocide because of the Kardashians than because of history books. And that's not because of "this generation" that's because of culture. Our society has decided that education is a privilege, not a right, and we put our focus on celebrity instead of hard work. We don't get to choose the problems that are given to us, but we get to decide how to fix them. And so far, apathy hasn't worked.    

Maps and Moms

   For Mother's Day, I generously offered to take my mother with me when I went to see comedian Chris Hardwick. I had made my ticket purchase back in November when I found out that he would be in Milwaukee because I want to make him mine. I thought, I will be a big girl, I'll venture into the city-yes, I know, it's Milwaukee, but anything bigger than 1000 people is a city to me-and I'll have a nice little weekend to myself. Skip to a few months later when I realize that's Mother's Day weekend and I have nothing to give Connie. So, after much consideration, I picked up the phone, called the Condog and asked if she'd want to go. She answered with an enthusiastic, "Yeah, sure, I can go." Because, you know, she had to make sure that I knew she was giving up a weekend full of plans of falling asleep in her recliner, watching Law and Order: Criminal Intent, and texting my brother who lives in North Carolina with weather updates for the East Coast.
   We decided that she would drive to my place on Friday and I would drive her car to Milwaukee since it would be during the day and there would be traffic and Connie considers Cedar Rapids a white knuckle driving experience. My brain also does this thing where it conveniently forgets that my mother is just a smidge anal retentive. So, she had mapped out seven different ways for us to drive to Milwaukee, discussed each route with at least two of her coworkers or family members, researched the weather for the weekend and any construction delays we may come in contact with. I, on the other hand, wasn't even sure which way to drive out of my driveway. Normally, I would have plugged my GPS in from the beginning and followed whatever it said.
   Now, while running the risk of sounding like I'm patting myself on the back, I am a GREAT navigator. When you grow up with someone who is a little high strung, you learn how to be seven steps ahead so that you can soothe any fears before they come. Had I been navigating to Milwaukee, I would have been aware of how long we were going to be on a certain road, which exits we were looking for, any potential turns, and, thanks to someone's constant nagging, I also would have always known the position of other cars on the roadway. My mother is a little out of practice with navigating. Not to mention, she is very much a product of her generation and she had printed out two different versions of maps from Mapquest, it took her fifteen minutes (NO EXAGGERATION) to program the GPS with the hotel's address, and she repeatedly said to me, "You know, I meant to buy an Atlas. I just like to have one around." "Connie!" I would exasperatedly reply, "You have an Atlas on your phone!" "I know," she'd replied, just as exasperated, "I can't figure out how to use it." After twenty-eight years of living with my mom, I should know by now to let that slide. Instead, I go, "You're a computer programmer! You work with technology every day!" "Well, that doesn't mean anything!" she screeches. End scene.
   Connie is a genius-true, she's the only one in our family without a master's degree-and she can figure out how to code a computer, but watching her try to program the GPS was like watching a monkey with a wind up toy. She kept inspecting it and it would make noise and startle her when she least expected it. Those were the most peaceful fifteen minutes of the road trip. After that, I had to pull out my earphones so I could listen to my podcasts and drive in semi-peace. There was a slight hiccup when I explained to Connie that my earphones cancelled out a lot of noise, so she needed to get my attention if the GPS was making any announcements. She wanted to tell me a story, so I pulled out one side of the earphones and she continued to yell the story while I told her, repeatedly, she didn't need to yell because I had a free ear. It's moments like those that I think, "I'm putting her in a home." I just worry that in the next few years, the world's going to become a bit too much for her to handle and I'll either have to pack her up to live with my brother or put her in a home where she can pretend it's still 1980. There was another slight hiccup when Connie forgot to warn me that my exit was coming up and I was not only in the wrong lane, but past the exit before she realized that's where we needed to go.
   But, we survived. We made it to Milwaukee. We had a great time at the comedy show and then shopping and exploring the next day. I really enjoy being an adult and having this relationship with my mom. Yes, she's the reason I'm in therapy and will be for years to come, but she and I also have a LOT of fun together. I never laugh as hard as I do when I'm with my family. I love to just film my mom when she's unaware and then play it back for her so she gets just a taste of what it's like watching her on this side. Did we have to get up at the buttcrack of dawn so we could be on the road at 7:00 am because Connie was convinced there would be bad weather and she wanted to be home before it hit? Yes. Did I make her drive home so I could sleep? Yes. Did I have to use the paper maps that she printed off? No, no I did not. I let the GPS lead, I let my mom drive, and I drifted reveling in my weekend. I gave Connie a pretty good Mother's Day gift. I gave her more stories to share and memories to relive. That's better than some darn flowers.        

Squeaky Wheel

    I am really lucky in that I have always been able to get away with saying things that others either can't or won't. When I was a high school student, our class secretary came up to me and said that, in the space of one week, our class budget had dropped by $1000-1500. She and I went in to the office to speak with the superintendent about what had happened. I looked him in the eye and said, "I consider that money that you stole from us." He needed to know I meant business. I don't fully remember this instance, but Khara always tells me about a time in our African American literature class in which a class member explained that he understood how the protagonist of our novel felt because he too was part of a minority group. I simply asked him what minority group he was a part of....well, I asked, "You're a straight, blonde haired, blue eyed Nazi dream child, what minority group are you a part of?" He was (and presumably still is) a militant atheist. (Yeah, I don't consider that a minority group either, but, whatever). I wasn't saying that he was, in fact, a Nazi-though, I have my suspicions-I was just saying that he is very clearly a member of the majority, so how did he define himself as a minority. I once told a co-worker of mine who was wearing a jean skirt that she looked like a Duggar. She laughed, we bantered, and she walked off. (Another co-worker tried to make a similar statement, but they lacked my charisma and it backfired in a big way).
   I just don't believe in holding back. I don't ever want to hurt anyone's feelings. Well, okay, I didn't care if I hurt that one guy's feelings from graduate school-he was a tool. I just get tired that people are tip-toeing around the real issues. People are so afraid to state what they mean outright. I hate when you can't tell where you stand with people. You always know with me. You always know how I feel about things. I don't believe in flowery language when I write or when I speak. I often feel like people who say a lot are trying to hide the fact that they're not really saying anything at all. (Read anything by Nathaniel Hawthorne and you'll understand). I am also irritated when people in the workplace decry the lack of communication, but they won't tell management-or even their coworkers-when they have an issue. You can't complain about the lack of communication if you won't communicate. I know that I have overstepped my bounds A LOT, but I'd rather be disciplined for trying to fix a problem than contributing to it.
   That is why, when given the opportunity to speak with management or to give my opinion, I speak freely. I speak respectfully-I mean I was raised right-but I also don't sit on information that I think they either don't want to hear or won't pay attention to. Because, if I have said to management, "Look, we here see these issues," and nothing happens, then at least I know I've brought it to their attention. I did what I can do to try to fix something. I'm not complaining without trying to change things. The most recent example of this is when, as part of an advisory board, my group and I had planned to bring someone in to the workplace to put on a presentation for our coworkers. However, we learned that there was already going to be a presentation on the same information and decided to scrap ours and go in a different direction. Instead, our most senior manager told us that the presentation would go on and be a part of a lunchtime presentation that our group had already expressed we felt did not work. I suggested to the group leader that we go speak with our manager and explain why we felt that this was not a good idea. She disagreed and I fell in line. But, when we were asked to provide questions or a question and answer segment at our next advisory board meeting, I asked why our senior manager had wanted the presenter to provide the lunchtime presentation even though he would have a distracted audience and a much more limited time-frame.
   I would have rather have been able to go into a meeting with her and our group leader and say, "Look, I understand that you want this person to present, but it would be a waste of his time to put on a lunchtime presentation where people are eating and coming and going instead of listening to him and all the knowledge he holds." However, the leader felt that saying something would not help and that we should do what the senior manager wanted. Yet, I had the opportunity to go into a meeting with the senior manager and one other person (who introduced me like she wouldn't know who I was) and the first thing we talked about was my question and how she UNDERSTOOD MY POINT AND THAT IT WAS NOT THE BEST IDEA! That tells me two things: 1) she knows who I am and she remembers me and 2) I made her think. I didn't walk in and say, "This is stupid and you're an idiot and this will never work!" I was respectful and said, "Here's why I think this." Don't get me wrong, I have told people I think things are stupid (cough, logging telephone calls, cough), but as many people have told me, when you do that, it puts people on the defensive.
   As we talked more and more during the meeting, I saw where she envisioned our group going. She also suggested a newsletter that I might be interested in reading which I took her up on. There was a give and take. At one point, I could see that she and the other meeting person were tip-toeing around saying what we were all thinking so I said, "To be completely blunt, it's much easier to complain about things than to fix them." (Yeah, ponder that bit of wisdom). So, we then talked about the fact that, if you are going to raise an issue to management, you should also come with solutions. Because, even if those solutions aren't the greatest, it shows that you've thought it out. And you're not just complaining to complain. It was a really good experience. It was also a productive meeting. Because the senior manager was able to see that I wasn't hiding behind email to call her on something, I wasn't coming to her and saying "fix this" and I was able to listen and have a conversation with her, she can now see that I'm a rational, thinking person who wants to fix what's broken by also putting in the work. And all of that happened because I opened my big mouth. I have very rarely ever regretted something I said-again, because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or shame someone-but I have regretted NOT saying something. And I'll be darned if I leave this world without people remembering what I had to say.