Sunday, October 27, 2013

My husband says he won't listen to my angry rants about the newspaper since I recently re-subscribed. Honey? Don't read this.

Here's an article that appeared in my newspaper today.

Can I just take some of this shit point by point? I'll differentiate the newspaper text from mine by font color. This is about the superintendent of our school district, who is stepping down.


Before starting as the new superintendent of the Sacramento City Unified School District, Jonathan Raymond was told how he could escape unscathed from the no-win job he was taking on.
“Rudy Crew (a former Sacramento superintendent who later ran New York’s public schools) told me: ‘Stay three years, keep your head down, and whatever you do, don’t close any schools,’” Raymond said with a wistful smile the other day.
Of course, Raymond did close schools. 
Yes, seven of them. All in poor neighborhoods with higher-than-normal poverty and higher-than-normal numbers of brown kids. Just FYI. 
He not only didn’t keep his head down, he took on the local teachers union repeatedly. He actually cared about the poorest kids in a poor district and showed it by making those schools a priority backed by his office.
This doesn't exactly say that the teachers don't care about kids, but it comes pretty goddamn close. And this is the kind of thing that pisses me off about the newspaper. The teachers union is TEACHERS, just like a band is made of musicians. And he cared about SOME poor schools. Others got left in the dirt. 
In a state where the teachers unions control politicians, Raymond was ripe for being fired with an agenda that actually put kids first.

LOL. Find me ONE politician who is a puppet of the teachers union. 
So Raymond is leaving after four years of success against long odds, but with few accolades and allies.
He was the ultimate solitary figure, doing good work that was praised by outsiders and ripped by insiders. His experience is a window into what truly ails public education in California.
So you're saying he is praised by people who don't know dick about the situation and ripped by people who have to live with the effects of his policies? Good to know.
Hack politicians seeking higher office from the school board dais jerked Raymond around constantly, even as the district achievement gap between the highest performing non-minority students and lowest minority students was reduced under Raymond’s watch.
Probably all the results of his policies, too, right? Nothing to do with the hard work of those evil teachers. 
The teachers union fought him and sued him at every step, even as school suspensions dropped across the board – most tellingly at the middle-school level, from 3,437 in 2010 to 1,236 in 2013.
Yeah... we sued him because he violated our contract intentionally and repeatedly. Also, WE and the principals were the ones responsible for that drop. You're welcome. 
Under Raymond, the dropout rate in the district fell from 23.2 percent in 2010 to 11.5 percent in 2012. The Latino dropout rate went from 27.8 in 2010 to 13.9. And for African Americans, it dropped from 37.1 to 15.5 percent.
Given these numbers and other achievements, and the virtual silence Raymond’s coming departure has inspired, the question remains: Are public schools a priority in Sacramento?
If we’re being honest as a community – and we rarely are on this topic – the answer has to be no. And Raymond’s lonely experience is illustrative of why.
The local teachers union cares most of all about preserving teacher seniority.
Eat shit, Breton. You are a dirtbag. Obviously, the union cares about things like job protections for and the working conditions of teachers. But the TEACHERS, who make up the union, care a whole lot about kids and schools. Otherwise, they'd probably go do something else.

And you know what? When, due to budget issues, Raymond suggested shortening the school year by two days, do you know what teachers did? We said no -- we'd rather donate $950 each and teach those two days, because we thought the kids deserved the time. So we care most about preserving teacher seniority? Eat a bag of dicks, Breton.
Many parents talk a great game, but Raymond’s idea of lifting the lowest ships gained him scant love from many whose true idea of public school greatness was preserving the schools and programs that their kids were in. As he recalled, “It was like the parent from (the high-achieving Genevieve Didion Elementary in Greenhaven) told me at a meeting. She said: ‘Superintendent, you’re not just the superintendent for poor kids. You’re the superintendent for all kids.’”
Raymond will likely be appreciated much more in retrospect – after he leaves for his native Boston in December.
His “priority” schools have been a resounding success after he arranged for the poorest-performing schools in the district to receive stable funding and staffing.

I think we may have different definitions of "resounding success." One of the "priority schools" dropped 91 points on the API index. One of the schools to make the highest gains was one of the seven he closed.

Further, protecting the "priority schools" in many cases hurt the other schools. It took away funding from my school, at least as impoverished as the high school that was made a "priority." 
He set up a pipeline to cultivate principals and district leaders of the future. He prevailed in a lawsuit that allowed him to essentially get around teacher seniority in some cases. He got the community to pass school bonds to upgrade aging schools. He brought in youth counselors to foster a sense of community in schools where kids didn’t always enjoy the benefits of a stable home life.

Speaking of hurting my school, that lawsuit that allowed him to get around seniority meant that my school's staff was DECIMATED last year. (Actually, knowing that decimated means 10% destroyed, it was MORE than decimated.) Initially, about 1/3 of the English department was on the layoff list. We ended up losing five great teachers because first- and second- year teachers at the priority school were "skipped" due to their "special training." Whereas the special training our teachers had (including very specialized, very expensive training which allows us to run an advanced program for our neediest kids) was ignored. It didn't count. Tell me how that's a success? It's like being proud you could fatten up one of your two skinny kids by giving one of them the other's food. 
He was a tireless advocate for Common Core standards that push students – and teachers – to drill down deeper on core subjects. He also set up restorative justice programs in schools through which students worked out conflicts in a safe environment, often in contrast to the environments in which they lived.
Raymond also bit the bullet and closed schools with declining enrollments and was pilloried the entire way by vested interests.

Vested interests: parents and community groups. Those tyrants!
What was the worst thing that anyone said to him?
“I know where you live,” Raymond replied.
From the beginning, Raymond was in a tough spot.
He remembers, in his first week on the job, eagerly accepting an invitation from Mayor Kevin Johnson to attend a news conference.
“But some members of my board were upset. They said: ‘Remember who you work for.’”
It was then Raymond realized what a polarizing figure Johnson was to the teachers union for turning Sacramento High School into a charter school.

(Which was a shitty thing to do, and my neighborhood STILL doesn't have a comprehensive high school because of it.)
Raymond was wary of getting too close to Johnson for fear of having his initiatives scuttled by union-backed board members.

Oh, no worries: we endorsed some of those sonsabitches, but once they were elected, they gave us the finger and said yes to everything Raymond wanted, ever. They often read the Raymond-penned FRONT PAGE only of the board meeting agenda and voted based on that. 
Just months after Raymond arrived in 2009, Johnson pitched the idea of bringing Teach for America to city schools. The nonprofit organization trains teachers and sends them to underserved schools and Raymond thought it was a great idea to bring a small number to city schools.

Yeah... the district laid off 70 teachers that year. We actually did not need anybody. Particularly anybodies to whose organization you have to pay a finder's fee.
But when Raymond couldn’t be sure he’d get votes on his board to approve a pilot program, he had to tell Johnson he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk a big defeat so early in his tenure. The union objected, as other teacher unions have, because they label Teach for America as “union busters” who supplant veteran teachers with younger ones.

Mmmm... did you mean "younger" or "untrained?" 
Johnson was not happy and a potentially valuable ally has been kept at arm’s length – depriving city schools of the biggest funding rainmaker in Sacramento as a full partner.
Meanwhile, a worthwhile program eventually set up shop at Natomas public schools instead.
And there were even bigger obstacles.
“There are some teachers in our district who should be getting paid six figures and there are some who should have been gone yesterday,” Raymond said. “And as superintendent, there is very little I could do to influence either extreme.”
While Raymond felt isolated as he dealt with these issues in Sacramento, John Deasy, leader of the Los Angeles Unified School District, is poised to leave for many of the same reasons.
It is what it is, and Raymond is clear-eyed about it. The only time he grows emotional is when considering the children of Sac City Unified.
“I love our kids in Sacramento,” he said.
“I’ll never forget this first-grader. He was so cute wearing a suit that still had the labels on it and making a presentation at a science fair,” Raymond said. “For many of these kids, it’s probably the first time in their lives where someone told them, you matter. You’re going to be something. Who knows what is going to happen with that kid (in the suit)? But maybe that presentation was the spark for him. That’s the stuff I feel really good about.”

Aw, then someday perhaps he'll wake up and realize he had fuck-all to do with that. Because science fairs have been going on for decades, and it's teachers who organize them, teachers who judge them, teachers who stay late for them, and shitasses like Raymond who show up for the photo-op and then wax nostalgic about it later. Good riddance.

As for Breton, seriously, man... did a teacher touch you in the no-no place? We're not Lex Luthor. We're not like in the cartoons where the bees swarm together to make GIANT BEE. Do we have some political sway? Some. But here's an example of how tenuous and hard-won it is: last election, there was a CTA-endorsed piece of legislation running against a billionaire-endorsed proposition. CTA represents 325,000 people. There were about 6 billionaires who supported the other bill. We had grassroots action! We talked to people. We walked precincts. They spent an ASSLOAD of money. We spent money, too, although we didn't have the assloads they did. And for a while it was really, really close. We did win. But it's not like politicians or school board members bend to our will. We're an organization of people, of teachers. The fact that we talk to people *should* have some sway. Many parents support teachers and think their kids' teachers are doing a good job. Not because we're some giant threatening mafia, but because every day, we strive to send their kids home just a little bit improved. 

Sunday, October 20, 2013

An Education

About two weeks ago, something came up about the pledge of allegiance. Zadie knew the whole thing, she said! Wow! we said. Let's hear it!

All three of us said, "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic, for which it stands, one nation..."

and then two of us fell silent and waited. One continued, "under God, indivisible..."

Huh. We thought. They still do that.

In the most unsurprised and least passionate voices we could muster, we mentioned that not everyone believes in God, and those who do don't all believe in the same one, and that some who DO believe in the same one don't think he has the same name, and isn't it funny how everyone in her classroom says "under God."

Not just everyone in her classroom -- the whole school! The principal comes on over the P.A. At first she thought the speaker was a heater! What a surprise!

Yes, quite!

You know, we said, we think you can and should say it if you want to, and not if you don't, but at our house one thing we try to do is to make sure everyone feels comfortable. So if someone ever chooses not to say the "under God" part, we would hope she wouldn't say anything about it, to help make the other person feel comfortable.

When we were choosing schools, we considered the public Waldorf-methods school, but it was really a commute. Many of Zadie's friends went to Montessori, but it was really a cha-ching. We considered several schools for their art and music programs, their proximity to home, their butterfly gardens. We did not consider test scores other than to rule out a school which boasted of quite good ones, earned primarily through hours of homework and a lack of other instruction. As we were getting ready to decide, our home school, the one for which we had guaranteed admission, announced that they were going IB. IB! The program I teach and love. I love its global perspective, its focus on the learner, its mission statement (among other things, they are going for "intercultural understanding and respect"). I love its belief in inquiry. I signed her up as soon as the window was open.

A few days ago, she came home with a hat on which she had colored a rainbow feather, and carefully traced the words "I sailed with Columbus." We complimented her and let it go.

But JESUS FUCK. I mean... My mom said, "You know, we learned all the wrong things, but later we learned the right ones and now we know better." And someone else said that they start learning the real story of things like the first Thanksgiving in about 6th grade. And that's fine, in many ways. I'm not aiming for her Kindergarten curriculum to include anything about cutting off the hands of indigenous people or selling 9-year-old girls as sex slaves. But, like... couldn't we just skip that asshole? I mean, it's not like they get the day off. Many places have started calling the day, if you need a goddamn theme, Indigenous People's day. Maybe you could color a basket instead, and trace "I wove baskets from reeds." Or it's October, harvest time... maybe we could talk about what's growing, or how early people grew stuff at all, or how food was stored in the early days of this country. That's all Kindergarten-friendly stuff.

I honestly just didn't really think the curriculum for my daughter, born 32 years after me, would be the same crap I learned, and the same crap the Brady Bunch kids learned, and the same stuff pretty much everyone past the age of copying the Bible and wearing dunce caps learned.

I can't imagine the amount of work that goes into being a Kindergarten teacher. Zadie turns in a packet of three pages of homework twice a week, and gets it back the next day with a comment, star, or happy face on every page. She has already learned all kinds of stuff that she didn't know before. This week, she is the VIP and she's very excited about it. Kindergarten makes her feel special and grown-up, and I love all that. But I think when I envisioned what a "global perspective" would look like in the younger grades, I didn't think it would mean strict and rigorous adherence to the doctrine of God and old dead white guys. And I am a little disappointed.

Sunday, October 06, 2013

Update


Friday, October 04, 2013

Breaking up with optimism

Okay, so... we're trying to get pregnant. Not trying like, with science or anything, but giving it the old college try.

And before Duckie, we had said we'd try until Sweetie's 40th birthday, which is in 46 days. And then after Duckie, it took a little while to get my body settled again (and the doctor warned us away from trying for a couple months), and I admitted to Sweetie that I was losing faith that it would happen. He quickly said we could change our timeline if we needed to, and it *was* an arbitrary timeline, but I think he was just shocked to see me lose my near-eternal optimism.

You know, when I was younger and I learned about optimism and pessimism, optimism seemed like the one that suited me, and the option with the most potential for good. I mean, you're always looking forward to something good, and mostly it happens, and when it doesn't, well you can see the silver lining or look forward to the next good thing. You see disappointments as an anomaly rather than a way of life.

In Through the Looking Glass, the White Queen says that in her youth, she was able to believe six impossible things before breakfast. I may have her beat. I can believe that the symptoms of PMS are the symptoms of early pregnancy. I can put salsa on my eggs and drink two cups of bitter black coffee, then believe that that reflux-y feeling is morning sickness. I can believe that spotting is implantation, rather than a... scout. I can believe that a negative pregnancy test was just taken too early.

And for a long time, every month I would calculate what birthdate the potential baby would have. I would think about what season I'd be the biggest in. I'd figure out at what family gathering we could announce the happy news. I'd think, "this is the baby who went to Santa Cruz/hiking/the ocean before anyone knew about him." After Duckie, I have a harder time getting into that. I keep thinking of January 1st, 2014, his due date.

My cycle is irregular, so one month, it'll be day 29, and I'll be thinking "If it doesn't happen tonight, then I'll test tomorrow!" And I do, and it's negative, and a day later, on day 31, I'll start. And the next month, I'll have a day where I pee a lot on day 25, and I'll think, "Is this it?" and then I'll go to the bathroom and find I've had the shortest cycle ever. One way or another, I always get my hopes up, and they always get dashed.

I've just had my feelings hurt too many times. By my own stupid body.

I don't know if I'm ready to give up yet. People ask me a lot if we're planning to have another baby. I don't really want sympathy or follow-up questions, so I often give a very vague answer. Sometimes I outline why I might not want to have another, or why it might not be so bad if we didn't: no more diapers, no more sleepless nights, no more teething. And for a few minutes, I entertain the idea. Maybe those things are true. Parenting is hard, and often it is not fun at all. Sometimes I walk around in that idea like it is a pair of shoes I'm trying to break in: maybe it would be fine if we didn't have another. Maybe whatever happens is for the best. And then I'll see a mom with a baby in a wrap, and I just can't fathom not getting to do it again.

And I'm a magical thinker, even though I know it's ridiculous. A friend of mine, when I told her I was thinking of giving up, said "That's when it happens! Right when you give up, that's when it'll happen." And I was like, "YEAH. I'll give up! I'll tell myself I've given up so it will happen!" Which is not very good logic on a couple of fronts.

I'm tired. Tonight is day 28. In the last year, I've only had three cycles that were this long or longer. And so exactly half of me is thinking, "Maybe this is it! If I don't start by tomorrow at bedtime, I'll test on Sunday." And the other half is thinking, "you're such a fucking sap." I feel like Charlie Brown when Lucy holds the football for him. Why does he keep believing her? Is it optimism or downright stupidity? I want to think the best of Charlie. And of myself. But I'm starting to think optimism is for suckers.