BiteMe

Sublime. Faultless, yet amazing. Our generation believed in the box; the neon god that spewed forth truth, justice and the American way, until that fatal night when it was announced that Allen Funt, creator of Candid Camera actually staged all of those bloody, so-called “candid” scenes that brought glee to we who believed it to be truly candid.
Decades have cascaded by and this “Funt-Reality" has been forgotten, or never known to the new and improved generation. HEY! You guys! There aren't any "reality" anythings on television! Television is a hoax, first implemented in mental institutions in order to keep patients calm. Does this say anything to any of you? No, I suppose not.
Sigh!

Remember when all those Vietnam vets came back sick because they were exposed to Agent Orange, a nasty defoliant that provided our service people with long term illnesses that the government denied existed because the cost to pay for the troops' health needs was greater than the worth of a human body? Well, just in case you weren't aware, The Orange is back, and has been back with new & improved names that mask its true identity. Ransom is one of the new names. The chemical companies had to rename it in order to get it back on the shelves and turn a profit...see they can sell this stuff until the FDA finds time to test it...yes, yes, it was tested when it was Agent Orange...but now, because it's been re-baptized, it must wait its testing time...meanwhile the producers of Orange will make more names for this baby in order to maintain its shelf life! I wonder if DDT went through the same transformations?

December 14, 2006

That 3-letter acronym that causes your student to be LEFT BEHIND!

FTE EMAIL TRUTH: The attached (not attached, but available upon request) is an email I generated after learning that some of my Reading students had passed the FCAT by September 2006. The one in question in this email is not at all different from others who were kept in the class in order to increase the FTE count. FTE = approximately $3500/student and is administered to ESOL, ESE, etc. students from our benevolent governing bodies.. One of my scholars did not make the push/pull/tow list and was forced to remain in my reading class throughout the semester. This impropriety caused this achiever to lose.
FTE is a dirty little game of secrets that has been on going since I first began my teaching career in 1982 where it ended painfully with a Massachusetts superintendent chastising me for graduating 5 ESE students out of the program with my teaching intervention techniques. When I was called to his office I thought I was to be congratulated, but instead I heard, “Do you know how much you cost the school?”
My only consolation was, and is, a report from New England Medical Center Hospital that proves that my interventions on one of the 5 to be true and correct in order to augment scholarly achievements. The student had been seen since age three with little growth change, however on 3/8/83, after only 6 months of my interventions the hospital’s physician wrote: “On this most recent occasion, we administered a screening battery of neuropsychological tests, together with a full battery of educational tests. The screening battery of neuropsychological tests yielded results that were entirely normal and at a much higher level than had been true for this youngster in the past.” The report goes on to state that, “He is now achieving appropriately in all academic areas. School personnel, (that was me - added), is to be commended for their fine efforts.”
Who’s at fault? Everyone! Parents, teachers, politicians, State Capitals, Federal Capital, even students who cling to this crutch out of fear of failure or fear of being challenged. Such behavior orchestrates this hypocrisy that only serves to undermine the education of our future; that is, our children, who will be at the helm very soon.
We are the past ladies and gentlemen. To fail in providing a proper academic legacy to our future; i.e.: our off-spring, only serves to chip away at the future of that which we claim to hold dear:
"For in the final analysis, our most basic common link, is that we all inhabit this small planet, we all breathe the same air, we all cherish our children's futures, and we are all mortal." JFK
If Jack Kennedy was correct then it is time to bootstrap; that is, it is time to dispense with the excuses and begin to make reasons for why our children are not children, but academic scholars that require no hand holds for they were born of us and we too are great.

Submitting reality,

January 22, 2007

Today I met with a school psychologist, a ESE district compliance “specialist,” a middle school compliance “specialist,” the student’s self-contained classroom teacher, and some woman who left the meeting rather abruptly, but clearly hadn’t a clue about the student, who she was or why her mother and grandmother called the meeting. I was invited by the mother who herself was in ESE classes all of her life and to this day carries a disability, which is state supported, of not being able to read.
The student had no behavioral issues until she was placed in ESE classes 2 years ago. The mom and grandma want her out of ESE. The district specialist asks, “If we put her in mainstream classes, and she exhibits behavioral problems we will be forced to put her back in ESE. I inquired, “Why wasn’t there a need to put her back in mainstream when she experienced behavioral issues when placed in ESE.” I was told it was clear that I had an agenda and am argumentative. (hee hee hee hee)
Mr. Self-Contained classroom teacher stated that the only thing holding her back from mainstream is her behavior, yet was FORCED to retract that statement because he would have fucked up the whole meeting! – No actually they made him retract it because this falcon swooped in immediately on that one and used it to demand the student’s emancipation from ESE.
The school’s psychologist stated, after airing the student’s sad state of affairs, to which he was verbally confronted by guess who - when he found himself cornered he argued that there exists study after study that proves that ESE programs do not work for the betterment of the student. Call me a predator, bird of prey, but I couldn’t help but asking him, “Then why do you work in the capacity of placing students and keeping students in this program?” He told me that I was “insulting” and “inappropriate”. When he refused to address my question, the 2 specialists came to his defense stating: that such attacks need not be responded to, and encourage Mr. Psychologist to not respond. Where and when did I become insulting and inappropriate? He brought it up! I was just feeding back what he spewed forth.

A comfortable shirt is the apex of splendor, practically a friend. It is sublime in its perfection; all those who behold it on the wearer stand aghast, yet for the one adorned in its rapture it is sanctuary from the struggle that exists beyond its boundaries. Tonight security is found in circa Ben and Jerry’s 1995 Cherry Garcia, riddled with holes and minus the sleeves, and a significant patch on the back that reads: "Fun is the most important discipline of them all," generating an unremitting smile that presents itself much like a kite string across my face. Freedom found! Thank you Key Waste and thank you Ray.

Maniac Magee, by Jerry Spinelli - Fun to read, too bad teachers try to teach it!

Three year old Jeffery Lionel Magee’s parents died in a trolley accident. Never was there a choice. The child was sent to his nearest relatives who proved to be dysfunctional; i.e.: didn’t speak to one another, Catholicism prevented divorce so they provided two of everything in order to not share anything save the structure under which they were housed.
CHOICE at eleven years of age? Run away, live off the streets and his wits.
But his aloneness made him friendly…said, “hello” when he passed any stranger, 250 miles from Bridgeport, the town of his aunt and uncle, where Maniac was from, not “where I am.” (p.12)
BOOKS his passion, as ‘tis true for many. Books provided by Amanda Beale…female. SPORTS although he wasn’t practiced in football, he out shone Hands Down as he intervened at practice.
John McNab was a giant baseball playing twelve year old who could strike-out everyone with his fast ball, everyone except Maniac who refused to play by the rules…because he was not aware that everyone should fear McNab.
PICKWELL family dinners, Mrs. Pickwell is the provider/nurturer.
FINSTERWALZD’s yards, front and back were avoided as a rule, but again Maniac didn’t know the rules.
RESIDENCE: deer shed at the Elmwood Park Zoo until the Beale’s (Amanda’s parents) take him in.
EAST WEST Line never to be crossed especially at night…another rule Maniac did not know.
OTHER UNKNOWN RULES Couldn’t see Mars Bar’s hatred for him, that big kids don’t like little kids showing them up, kids don’t like kids who are different
MARS BAR & Maniac’s fight broken by a woman sweeping her sidewalk…she uses the broom. “you better get on, boy, where you belong. I can’t be following you around. I got things to do.” (p.37) AND Amanda rescues Maniac when he’s ambushed by Mars Bar soon after the woman’s intervention. (p.40)
THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE.?
Adopts the family…reads to Hester & Lester, does the dishes, takes out the trash, walks the dog, puts the cap back on the toothpaste, cleans up after himself, etc. He nurtures back.

First they were slaves; that is unpaid human beings of a darker hue who were owned by white men and women throughout the United States. The Civil War initiated the end to the ridiculous, degrading and humiliating practice only to begin another, sharecropping. Leon Walter Tillage has been a custodian in the Park School in Baltimore for “going on thirty years,” and is the son of a sharecropper from North Carolina. Tillage’s ability to relate the horrors of this replacement practice in his book Leon’s Story emanates from his heart and is absorbed soulfully by his readers who experience the poverty and degradation long after they close the cover on Tillage’s literary achievement.
Mr. Johnson owned the farm on which the Tillage’s lived. The sharecroppers had to share one half of everything they produced with Johnson. “So, let’s say Mr. Johnson gave my father ten acres of tobacco, ten acres of alfalfa and ten acres of corn – whatever – to work. Then at the end of a year, when it came time to sell the crops and settle up, Mr. Johnson would get five acres of each crop, and my father would get the other five.” That sounds fair, doesn’t it? But now consider that no one in the Tillage family could read, write, or calculate the figures Mr. Johnson creates. Mr. Johnson would also set up a credit for the Tillages at the corner store. This gave the family access to food prior to the crop yield, but again, they had no knowledge as to their total. At the end of the growing season the debt was paid to the store first. If the bill was greater than the financial rewards, Mr. Johnson covered the excess and the family began the next year in debt. The thought of getting an education was mute, for the jobs offered to blacks were not those that required a degree, guaranteeing the sharecropping business a long and prosperous life. “Education didn’t mean much to my father; the way they looked at it in those days was, you were colored, so all you needed to learn was how to read your name, write your name, stuff like that, but why sit in school? You’ll never get a job in the bank, or you’ll never get a job down in the drugstore, so it was a waste of time for him.”
Sharecropper homes were akin to slave quarters. There was no running water or electricity. Leon’s mother cooked for the Johnsons and brought back a treat at the close of her day. Pot lickers were the remains from the boiling of collard and other greens “mom’ cooked for the owner’s family. She would bring her treasure back home in the evening and create a soup full of vitamins derived from the well cooked vegetables.
The movies were the most important part of the week. “The white people sat at the bottom in what looked like nice soft chairs, and sometimes we sat on Coca-Cola crates because they couldn’t fit that many chairs in the balcony. When the lights were on (at intermission), the white kids would throw stuff – popcorn and things like that – up into the balcony, and you didn’t want to get hit.”
Klansmen mentality was intolerant of the fact that black people breathed. Whites didn’t have to don a hood to illustrate their contempt and disrespect for blacks. Leon and his family witness the horrific death of his father at the hands of an obsessed and twisted young man. It is the most painful part of his history and will cause the most callused reader to weep. Justice was served with an apology from the youth’s father, for the young life form refused to extend his regrets to low lives.
Tiny in appearance and powerful in truth, Tillage reminds his readers of a time not so far away. We would be fools to convince ourselves that such injustices could never occur again in our civilized America, for they continue with slums. As long as there are people living in poverty, children going to bed hungry, and the people of wealth at the helm, slavery and sharecropping remain under another title.

3 Best lines in The View from Saturday:
1 - “They were times in school when a person had to do things fast, cheap and without character.” (p.10)
2 - “As authentic as a Xerox copy.” (p.134)
3 - “I am a passenger on the Space Ship Earth” (P. 70)
There was so much I enjoyed about this book, the different plots converging, grandpa’s perspective of people with extra weight as being “plump as a good peach, Nadia’s uncomfortable adjustment to being the daughter of not only newly divorced parents but geographically separated as well, the turtle walks, the parallel storms between nature and Nadia and her father, Ethan’s attempt to maintain solitude reversing into a quadrant of friendships, Ethan labeled as Lucas’ younger brother and the expectations held by heartless teachers, Noah’s assorted “facts” he relies upon to maintain balance, Ethan wrestling with whether he gained something at Sillington House or lost something…perhaps when we lose, we win!…, Julian consistently misinterpreted by Mrs. Olinski until she, the teacher, learns by knowing, the accent of Julian that could make him appear smart even if he truly wasn’t, and the sea turtle rescue that brought everyone involved down to the wet, and filthy physical state placing all involved on an equal footing and closer to Nature and her capricious elements that always poetically level the grind iron.
Sillington house and the Mad Hatter teatimes are the safe places that all psychologists try to create. Such an environment permits people to interact without constraints. It is the only exercise this society does not extol...compassion.
Critique? Free-ranging hens….they are not what they are labeled and should not be glorified.
The basket Mr. Singh uses to grocery shop was not an ecological “thing to do,” but a customary thing to do…But who cares? The book was extraordinary!

If a young adult reader is on a quest for artistic realism, she or he might be directed to the writings of Mel Glenn. Split Image could be designated the third part of a trilogy of sagas about Tower High School and its participants that begins with Jump Ball and continues its plausible situations in Foreign Exchange, but Split Image’s connection only exists within the walls of Tower, and like all of Glenn’s books, social justices, or injustices are on every page.
Laura Li is the main character that stimulates actions and reactions from her surroundings. Laura was born in China and now lives in a foreign country, the United States. Despite the language barrier, she has managed to achieve high grades that were stimulated by her desire to go to an Ivy League school, Harvard. Her mother, Oi Pin Li has other plans for her first child, Jimmy Li is confined to a wheelchair and she believes her daughter should shoulder the responsibility of her brother and remain at home and attend a local college.
Sarah, the librarian finds a second chance in Laura. Sarah and her own daughter never speak anymore. Sarah hires Laura to work in the library. With Laura she is able to display her patience void judgment and expectations. Laura appreciates Sarah and wishes she could have this relationship with her own mother. Ironically so does Sarah’s real daughter.
Alejandro Felix and Arthur Feldman share initials and affection for Laura. Tyesha Hicks knows the other side of Laura. Amy Yau sees Laura in an enviable position. Shirley Eng and Laura share common resentments for their separate family duties. Both young ladies have fathers that know little about their children because they are too busy being some place else.
There are other characters that do not touch Laura’s life but share the one commonality; that is Tower High School and its daily inhabitants. Kiran Singh has a father who is undergoing heart surgery and is denied by his mother the ability to be with him. Josie George who knows the definition of late, and Beatrice Scarpetta, is a teacher who will one day see Venice without her mother.
If a young adult reader is on a quest for artistic realism, she or he might be directed to the writings of Mel Glenn. Split Image could be designated the third part of a trilogy of sagas about Tower High School and its participants that begins with Jump Ball and continues its plausible situations in Foreign Exchange, but Split Image’s connection only exists within the walls of Tower, and like all of Glenn’s books, social justices, or injustices are on every page.
Laura Li is the main character that stimulates actions and reactions from her surroundings. Laura was born in China and now lives in a foreign country, the United States. Despite the language barrier, she has managed to achieve high grades that were stimulated by her desire to go to an Ivy League school, Harvard. Her mother, Oi Pin Li has other plans for her first child, Jimmy Li is confined to a wheelchair and she believes her daughter should shoulder the responsibility of her brother and remain at home and attend a local college.
Sarah, the librarian finds a second chance in Laura. Sarah and her own daughter never speak anymore. Sarah hires Laura to work in the library. With Laura she is able to display her patience void judgment and expectations. Laura appreciates Sarah and wishes she could have this relationship with her own mother. Ironically so does Sarah’s real daughter.
Alejandro Felix and Arthur Feldman share initials and affection for Laura. Tyesha Hicks knows the other side of Laura. Amy Yau sees Laura in an enviable position. Shirley Eng and Laura share common resentments for their separate family duties. Both young ladies have fathers that know little about their children because they are too busy being some place else.
There are other characters that do not touch Laura’s life but share the one commonality; that is Tower High School and its daily inhabitants. Kiran Singh has a father who is undergoing heart surgery and is denied by his mother the ability to be with him. Josie George who knows the definition of late, and Beatrice Scarpetta, is a teacher who will one day see Venice without her mother.
Glenn dedicates each page of poetry/song for the character and his or her mind state at that point in the text. While each poem reads quickly, the substance is dense. Bravo Mr. Glenn.
“My grandmother’s teakettle,
Made of fine china,
Sits on the high shelf,
Proper in its space,
Pristine in its beauty.
It is to be admired
From afar.
It is to be noticed
For its smooth curved lines.
It is to be handled
Gently, delicately,
Only on special occasions.
Ah, little tea kettle,
Poised high on your shelf,
Wait until you
Gather your own steam
And watch
As I boil over.

Pure enjoyment and smiles were the gifts from Issac Millman’s Moses Goes to a Concert. Millman successfully treats the topic of deaf children without bias or prejudice and matter of factly presents to the reader the signing method of communication among deaf people who are educated in its art. In taking his fictitious characters to a symphony concert where they can “feel” the music vibrate through their balloons he permits the reader to realize that the deaf have the ability to enjoy music albeit hearing impaired. And how pleasant that among the musicians there was a deaf percussionist. Not unusual when one considers some of the finest symphonies were written by a deaf piano (percussionist) player.
Millman falls short in only on area. He assumes all children who are deaf are educated in the art of sign. I have always wondered why the Native American sign language was abandoned for American sign language, but I suppose it had something to do with politics as usual.

Animal abuse is often easier than child abuse and similarly it is found in all cultures. Respect for all things, animals, people, land, water, rocks, sky, etc, is characteristic of aboriginals throughout North and South America. These so-called “primitive” people understood the connections of all elements in the circle of life. Reverence and consideration for things that are not human is a key characteristic of Indian literature.
Richard Van Camp opens his picture book A Man Called Raven with George Littlechild’s childlike illustrations of two young boys, Chris and Toby, who are engaged it the torment of a raven. The bird is cornered and barely escapes unscathed. When Toby and Chris turn to continue their pursuit an intimidating man with long black hair is standing before them. The man asks to meet the boys’ parents. The boys comply with reluctance, but do comply.
After talking with the youngsters’ mother, the boys are instructed by their mother to listen to the man’s story. The visitor tells the boys a story of a miserable man who thought everyone disliked him. The miserable man was transformed into a raven when he fell out of a tree. His first inclination was to return to his community and torment those who caused him so much pain. However, to his surprise, he found everyone mourning at his funeral. After that, he realized he had misjudged his neighbors and kept a vigil over them, insuring good hunts, and safe passage.The boys are convinced through the tale that the need to respect ravens is vital to the well-being of not only the raven, but those he guards. The visitor departs in a flutter of black feathers. So very cool!

It isn’t easy losing your mother when you’re young. Death can take her, illness can ravage her and hospitalizes her, or she can grow unable to take the pressures of society and family and exit to parts unknown. Salamanca (Sal), Ben and Phoebe share the common loss of their mothers, under the respective listed circumstances. By sharing their situations Sal learns to accept the truth about her mother in Sharon Creech’s humorous and emotional novel, Walk Two Moons.
Phoebe is Sal’s best friend who is certain there is a lunatic around every corner, and a conspiracy lurking on the edges of shadows. But it is through the story of Phoebe and her idiosyncrasies that Sal shares with her grandparents on a cross-country trip. Through this sojourn Salamanca learns about herself and the frustrations she underwent when her mother deserted her and her father.
Bybanks, Kentucky, on the Ohio River, was home before mom decided she could no longer tolerate herself and hopped a bus to Lewiston, Idaho. Mom left behind memories of her that frustrate dad and Sal, to the degree that Sal’s father packed her and himself off to Euclid, Ohio where there was nothing that even resembled a farm. “My mother did haunt our house in Bybanks, in the fields and the barn. She was everywhere. You couldn’t look at a single thing without being reminded of her.”
The loss of a parent, for whatever reason, is seldom accepted by the children. Even when the truth is known, it is not embraced as gospel. Children seek an alternative answer in order to satisfy their hearts. “”That’s it,” Phoebe said. “I’m going to search for clues, for evidence that the lunatic has been here and dragged my mother off. I wanted to tell her that she was fishing in the air and that probably her mother had not been kidnapped, but I knew Phoebe did not want to hear it.
“When my mother did not return, I imagined she had cancer and didn’t want to tell us and was hiding in Idaho. Maybe she got knocked on the head and had amnesia and was wandering around Lewiston, not knowing who she really was, or thinking she was someone else.” To think the truth, she left on her own volition, only leads to guilt, i.e.: she left because of me.
Phoebe’s paranoia that assists in humor development as well as giving Sal the mirror of Phoebe’s soul to reflect upon and realize her own reality. “Underneath all the odd behavior was someone who was frightened. And in a strange way, she was like another version of me – she acted out the way I sometimes felt.” Sal wanted to call her friend Phoebe and tell her “maybe her mother had gone looking for something, maybe her mother was unhappy, maybe there was nothing Phoebe could do about it. For the first time it occurred to me that maybe my mother’s leaving had nothing whatsoever to do with me. It was separate and apart. We couldn’t own our mothers.”
Observing Ben’s visit with his mother at the psychiatric hospital brought memories to Sal. “”This is my mother,” Ben said. I said hello but she didn’t look at me. Instead she stood, and drifted across the lawn as if we were not there. Ben and I followed. She reminded me so much of my mother after she returned from the hospital. My mother would stop right in the middle of doing something inside the house and walk out the door.”
Salamanca’s mother’s disappearance broke Salamanca’s dreams and her bullish spirit. “I used to love to drive that old green pickup truck. I dreamed about turning sixteen and getting a license, but when Momma left, something happened to me. I became afraid of things I had never been afraid of before, and driving was one of these things. I didn’t even like to ride in cars, let alone drive the truck.”
Salamanca has a different outlook on her father. She prefers to see him sad, because when he’s sad she knows he’s remembering mom. Yet when she sees Phoebe’s father cry, a man who was stiff and in control prior to his wife’s fleeing, it upsets her more than seeing her own father cry for she expects her father to cry.
Creech’s book is jammed packed with social issues. Perhaps she implements the secret messages from a blind woman, Mrs. Partridge to explain social justices,for who doesn't know that justice is blind?:
1. In the course of a lifetime what does it matter?
2.Everyone has his own agenda. [“Everybody is just walking along concerned with his own problems, his own life, his own worries. And we’re all expecting other people to tune into our own agenda. ‘Look at my worry. Worry about me. Step into my life. Care about my problems. Care about me.’”]
3. Don’t judge a man until you’ve walked two moons in his moccasins.
4. You can’t keep the birds of sadness from flying over your head but you can keep them from nesting in your hair.
5. You don't know the worth of water until the well is dry.

“It seems to me that we can’t explain all the truly awful things in the world like war and murder and brain tumors, and we can’t fix these things, so we look at the frightening things even closer to us and we magnify them until they burst open. Inside is something we can manage, something that isn’t as awful as it had first seemed. It is a relief to discover that although there might be axe murders and kidnappers in the world, most people seem a lot like us: sometimes afraid and sometimes brave, some times cruel and sometimes kind.”
Could Salamanca be right?

The Sketchbook of Thomas Blue Eagle begins and ends with questions. It is unique to discover the copyright and publishing information at the end of a book, but then this novel/picture book is singular in other respects as well. Initially the reader is drawn to believe that this is a work of one Mr. Thomas Eagle, a member of the Sioux Indian Nation. However upon the perusal of the final page of written text, the reader learns that the sketches are interestingly created by Adam Cvijanovic from Brooklyn, New York, and the text is derived from twin Connecticut sisters, Gay Matthaei and Jewel Grutman. Arthur Amiotte is also named on this curious page. He is a “Lakota artist, art historian, educator author and consultant on Native culture,” yet I am confounded with an answer as to why his name is on the page of credits. Could it be to lend credence to the fiction and in doing so does it develop a paradox when one lends authenticity to a fiction?
Blue Eagle’s adventures begin with what he perceives as a need. Blue Eagle believes if he leaves the reservation and travels with Bill Cody’s Wild West Show he will secure the wealth he believes he requires to win the hand of the fair maiden Echo. However others do not feel the urgency to leave. Dark Moon, his rival for Echo, vows someday to “even the score,” between him and Blue Eagle,” which for this reader sounds like a challenge. Challenge/confrontation/war are what the Indians claim to oppose yet it is obvious it does indeed exist among their own tribal members. One also learns that Indians had “terms of endearment” for whites, just as whites had such terms for Indians. Indians called whites “wasichum” which the author interprets as “those other people,” but then who’s to say, it could really mean “$#$#&$^%*$*”. People are people regardless of their “roots.”
Respect for animals and all creatures is Blue Eagle’s spiritual doctrine that magically brings him stardom in the Wild West Show. Yet he takes his most beloved mount and races him in three consistent matches against three formidable adversaries to enhance his sense of grandeur. Not once does he consider the strain he has placed on his animal, and does not mention the foundering (the turning of the coffin bone in a horses foot due to misuse causing lameness) that most likely occurred days later and lamed the noble steed, all for the fame/pride of the rider.
Blue Eagle meets the Pope and the Queen of England during the European tour. These figureheads he views as chiefs which indicates to this reader that one leader is very much like another. Eventually the Pope invites the Indians to pray with him to Jesus. “I did not do it at Carlisle (School). I would not do it in Rome. I know there is only one Great Spirit but the Great Spirit speaks Lakota words to the Lakota warriors. Those words cannot be the same as Italian words the white man’s God speaks to Italian shepherds.” How familiar this ideology is, i.e.; each committed to his/her religion and resenting others for being different. Most wars are based on holy/sacred devotion.
A lie, passed to Blue Eagle by Cody, in order to cease his desire to leave the show and return home breaks Blue Eagle’s heart. Cody tells him Echo has married Dark Moon, and his people are starving because the U.S. government has not delivered the promised provisions. The bamboozled Indian states he “cries inside,” indicating that perhaps male tribal members were denied their right to express emotion of pain.
While our hero works for whites, earning his fortune through the white world he insists that although “I am walking the white man’s road I am not turning into a white man.” It is pleasant to see Blue Eagle’s inconsistent behavior is no different than any other human being. At long last Blue Eagle and his horse return to U.S. shores. Refused normal seating because he is Indian the young man rides in the hay car of the train back home. He learns many of the members of the community have moved either to the reservation or to other places due to drought and broken promises of the government. Blue Eagle learns he has been given a substantial amount of land and grows prosperous. Presto, Echo returns to him. Why is it women are always depicted as capitulating to wealth? When will the book be written that depicts all people of equal dispositions?

Who else is there better equipped to give insight into the so-called “beauty of nature” than Gary Larson. There’s a Hair in My Dirt! A Worm’s Story opens the eyes of the bleeding heart liberal tree hugger to the other side of the beauty they witness.
The far side type story opens with a family of three worms sitting down to their evening meal. Little worm has found a hair in his dirt. Apparently this discovery is the final straw to frustrations he’s accumulated. He voices his anger with being fish bait, robin food, and being at the bottom of the food chain. In an attempt to rebuild his son’s confidence in his place in the chain, father worm relates the sidesplitting story of Harriet, a young maiden who is in love with the mysteries of Nature.
The reader learns a barrage of lessons. The initial eye-opener is gray squirrels are aggressive and take over the domains of the red, timid squirrels. When Harriet is overcome by the radiance of a field of flowers father worm explains it is a battlefield where the floral are competing for pollination from prime insects in order to reproduce. The ants Harriet sees hauling eggs are praised by the nature buff, but in fact are Amazon ants who steal the eggs of other ants and once hatched make them slaves to their colonies. (Does this sound familiar?)
Eventually the reader is introduced to Bob the lumberjack. Bob has one direction. He cuts trees, but because he lives among the forest creatures, Harriet accepts him.
Larson's daddy worm enlightens readers with the truth about "the symphony of birds" that is in truth “an array of insults and warnings, and come-ons to members of their own species. (welcome to the hood!) Dragonflies are assassins and not “winged ballerinas, for "their magical flight" is the destruction of insects by the thousands in an afternoon. At the close the reader is conscious of the difference between tortoises and turtles, a slug and a worm, why not to kiss that frog, and why people should not try to help as much as they do. We even learn how severe sibling rivalry can be in the world of the Golden Eagle.
As each page brings a clearer perspective to beauty/disaster Harriet rescues a mouse from the coils of a snake. But the mouse is not merely a mouse and the snake is not poisonous but a rodent-eating snake.
I won’t give away the conclusion. I will only say it is in the traditional Larson style. There’s a Hair in My Dirt! A Worm’s Story adds food and vocabulary for thought to hearts that wrench with what they see and neglect to give pause and reflection to the whys and the wherefores of what the eye beholds. The finest creators of beauty that we humans glorify in museums, periodicals, art galleries, etc. have the ugly side to them as well. I am not certain what social justice is but I do know there is justice in this world if we see all aspects of a situation, without restricting our circle of sight. It’s all in the connection!

Quagmires abound in the world of a 16th Century child void of parental and financial support. Aloof and detached from everyone Gary Blackwood’s main character, Widge, in his historic novel The Shakespeare Stealer is destined by social class to collide with multiple situations of abuse from various masters. Adversity develops an arduous life as well as a skeptical and suspicious mind in the seven-year old boy, which are designed specifically for survival among humans.
Widge’s story begins in an orphanage supported by the parish and donations. “The money given us by the parish was not enough to keep one child properly clothed and fed, let alone six or seven. We depended mostly upon charity. When someone felt charitable, our bellies were relatively full. Otherwise we dined on barley mush and wild greens. When times were hard for others, they were doubly so for us.”
The morose institution, deplorable living conditions and the desire to be someone’s family member built dreams of hope in the orphans’ minds of miraculous rescues by wealthy and benevolent mothers and fathers. “Preferably it would be his true parents – who were, of course, royalty – but any set would do. Or so we thought.”
Dr. Bright arrives at the orphanage in search of an apprentice. Widge is chosen. The boy’s living conditions were mildly upgraded, “Dr. Bright and his wife were not affectionate toward me – nor indeed, toward their own children. But they gave me a comfortable place to sleep at one end of the apothecary, the room where the doctor prepared his medicines and infusions.” Dr. Bright exposed Widge to lessons of Latin, medicine and charactery, (shorthand), that would later benefit him in situations he never could imagine to exist due to his sheltered life. “I held no real hope of ever seeing anything beyond the bounds of Berwick. Indeed the thought of leaving rather frightened me.” Widge, a prentice in England, knew who he was. “There was a popular saying to the effect that England is a paradise for women, a prison for servants, and a hell for horses. Prentices were too lowly to even deserve mention.” Hence Widge held no security in these skills so he “waited,” “worked,” and “wished,” for a miracle as was typical for him.
At fourteen, Widge is once again reminded of his social standing. Dr. Bright, without emotion, gives Widge over to a stranger for money. Although the boy prefers Bright to stand resolute and ostracize the stranger and his offer Widge understands the reality of his life. “I suppose I knew him (Dr. Bright) better than anyone in the world. It was a sad thought, and even sadder to think that, after seven years, he could just hand me over to someone he had never before met, someone whose name he didn’t know, someone whose face he had never seen. It took even less time to gather my belongings than it had for my life to be signed away.” The tabby cat is the sole Bright family member who comes to say good-bye.
A Jew, an uncommon figure in England in the 16th Century, (Dr. Lopez, a Jew, tried to poison the queen and was executed. Following that incident all other Jews were either banished or forced to convert), named Simon Bass becomes Wedge’s new master. It is Bass’ intent that Wedge earns his keep stealing the plays of William Shakespeare through his talent of charactery.
The trip to London, under the watchful and cruel eye of Falconer, Bass’ dedicated and loyal employee was packed with enlightenment that that dazzled and opened doors of perception for Widge. He learned that the city he believed to be free had a curfew, and that in the less affluent neighborhoods the homes were closer to one another. “There were no street vendors here, nor prosperous merchants, only sullen wives emptying their slop jars into the street, sometimes missing the scrawny, shoeless children playing there, sometimes not.” Widge also learned of the plague and that the crude wooden crosses on the doors indicated a plague house.
The playhouse became sanctuary for Widge, for it was here he learned about his freedom. He became a member of a patchwork family. He laughed freely and learned friendship and trust. Most importantly he learned he could leave his master with the help of his newly acquired friends/family. “This is England, not China. A man has the right to choose his own p-path. If you truly wish to stay here and p-prove you are able, we will stand with you,” replied Mr. Hemings, one of the theatre production managers. Acceptance, and support by the members taught Widge loyalty and camaraderie. He had found a home among strangers. As Don Shimoda’s Messiah’s Handbook stated in Richard Bach’s Illusions, “Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.”
The move Widge makes to London creates the life he did not believe possible but always desired. His new family brought a wealth not of money, but of something money can never attain. Widge has found his home, his security, in the company of players.
Julia, Widge’s most influential acting tutor, finds no freedom in London for her acting passion cannot be satisfied in England, where women are forbidden on the stage. London, Widge’s fruit, is Julia’s poison. But Julia understands that to change the system is a tremendous ordeal and chooses to strike out for freedom in France where she is accepted as an equal. Social injustices grow in stagnation. “In order to live free and happily you must sacrifice boredom. It is not always an easy sacrifice.” (The Messiah’s Handbook, from Illusions, by Richard Bach.)

Joseph Bruchac’s novel, Eagle’s Song, is briefly but well illustrated by Dan Andreasen in black and white. The story accounts the prejudice words that come from other children to Danny Bigtree, a boy who has left the security of the reservation school, to enter public school in New York City. Danny lives in Brooklyn where children call him chief, and inquire as to the whereabouts of his “tee-pee. “ Such flip comments anger Danny for he is of the Mohawk/Iroquois Nations who have long houses not tee-pees. Danny is insulted when he is called chief for to him such a title comes with certain dignities that are earned over time. Danny considers cutting his hair but realizes he will not be unrecognizable. His only wish is to make the torments cease.
The Bigtree family formally lived on the Akwesasne River, which is located at the top of the St. Lawrence River. Canadian factories polluted it and Danny’s family felt it best they move to Brooklyn, which would be closer to his cloud climbing father’s work. Danny’s father is a construction/steelworker and is away on projects a goodly amount of the year. Danny misses the other Iroquois children for they played lacrosse and understood his life-style.
Fortunately Danny’s mother listens to his lonely words. When Danny’s father comes home, dad volunteers to go into school to speak to Danny’s class about the Mohawk/Iroquois. It is his hope that through knowledge will grow understanding. Through Danny’s dad’s presentation the reader learns:
1) The Iroquois women ran and held the nation together.
2) Hiawatha is really spelled Aionwatha and was not at all what Longfellow ran on about in his poem.
3) Our constitution is modeled after the Iroquois government.
4) Five warring nations of Indians made peace and were illustrated in an eagle holding five arrows signifying the difficulty in breaking the truce.
5) Our quarter with the eagle on the back holds the 13 arrows symbolizing the 13 colonies.
6) If you believe in peace make the enemy your friend and practice solidarity.Laughter brings back the spirit.
Eventually the children at school learn to accept Danny but not without another painful incident. The author is wise not to allow Danny’s father to miraculously solve everything with one lecture for conflict resolution takes many steps.
Bruchac never attempts to reflect the American Indian as perfect. Throughout Eagle Song he implies the need for understanding. The more we understand, the less we fear and disrespect. Danny’s homesickness, his loneliness when his father is away and his adjusting to his new life away from the river needs consideration by his parents, teachers and classmates. With understanding grows acceptance. Acceptance erases the lines of class distinction.

Palampam Day written by David and Phillis Gershator is deliciously illustrated by Enrique O. Sanchez and allows the reader a hint of Caribbean flavor in this thoughtful yet fun filled picture book. Turo is a young boy who obviously has his daily pattern of life that exercises little or no thought to his pursuits. Coconuts, bananas, mangos and fish have always been his for the taking, without thanks or regard to their feelings. The Gershators’ story opens on a morning that is called Palampam Day, a day Turo did not know existed until this time in his life. When he climbs the coconut tree the coconuts cry, “don’t pick me mon.” The parrots tell Turo not to listen to the coconuts, but Turo finds that impossible. He encounters the same difficulties with other island fruits and the fish from the boats. His dilemma increases when cats, dogs, parrots and frogs also speak. The frog wants Turo to ask permission before taking his water.
When the sun is high, Turo is starved for he cannot bring himself to eat food that can vocalize. He seeks out Papa Tata Wanga to secure an answer to his woes. Papa explains the magic of Palampam Day, the day that normally silent things find their voice in the Caribbean sun. Papa gives Turo the magic words to say at bedtime and when Turo awakes, the spell has ended and he can eat to his heart content.The Caribbean way of life is depicted in the young person respectfully seeking out the elder for answers. Further entertainment might be considered by the authors to perhaps have Turo seek his answer through the fruits and creatures in order to learn the precious balance in the gifts of nourishment in the food chain.

Appropriately the child has no name for the child could be anyone. She is found in shades of blue and gray overwhelmed by the devastation she sees in the world around her: “oceans stained with waste, skies choking, and trees torn from the ground, animals killed to be worn as coats and shoes, fish floating in the river gasping for air, and birds shot for sport.” But as John Lennon once sang, “there are no problems, only solutions.” The young heroine devises a methodology that if followed by everyone would impose a positive impact on our environment. She begins by planting a tree, a small illustration of greens, yellows and browns among a two page collage of gray pictures depicting a variety of polluting deeds such as spraying, factory smoke stacks, high tension wires, etc. The next page brings two pieces of color, rather than one, to the collage when she chooses to walk to school as opposed to taking the bus, and to clean up her yard. She continues her efforts “writing for the sea, singing for the sky, marching for the animals and speaking for the world.” It is a strenuous undertaking for One Child, so she imagines other children joining in her efforts. As her imagination magnetizes more volunteers join her cause, the pictures become more delightful with their colors of wild life. Christopher Cheng has written a simple and poignant scenario to which all ages can relate and Steven Woolman has synchronized the author’s prose with his color palate.

Thank you Paul Fleichman. I needed Weslandia. The illustrator, Kevin Hawks is equally commended. Wesley is a young boy who finds himself an outcast because he doesn’t like pizza and soda, won’t wear his hair like the other boys, and dreams of a life different from what is offered him. He wants more differences to housing than the choice of either having a garage on the right or on the left! Wesley is chased and tormented daily and finds his entertainment in devising various methods of escape.
Wesley enjoyed learning things in school and applied them to building his own society. He began by growing his own staple food crop. The crop was a free growing plant that produced a vibrant flower, a delightful fruit and productive leaves and stalks. To work in the garden, Wesley discarded his jeans and wove a hat and a loose fitting robe from the plant’s leaves that allowed him to move freely in his new paradise.
His former tormentors grew curious, and Wesley allowed them ten minutes apiece at the mortar that was used to extract the oil from the fruit, that Wesley later sold to them at $10 a bottle. The tormentors became Wesley’s servants who fanned him, worked for him. Wesley developed his own sports and allowed the former hostiles the opportunity to engage in the new strategies. Wesley had turned the social class on its head with his free navigating ideas. When Wesley returned to school he had no shortage of friends.
This book is fabulous. All children should be encouraged to think and embrace their own ideas, and like Wesley, develop their own language, their own alphabet, their own world, that weaves in and out this reality.

Louise Erdrich is of the Ojibwa and a member of the Turtle Mountain Band, the Native North American people she writes about in The Birch Bark House.
The Ojibwas live in Minnesota on and near Lake Superior. Omakayas enters the story as a toddler and as the lone survivor of smallpox in her clan. Omakayas’ new family takes her into their already full home.
Nokomis, Omakayas’ grandmother, has many important duties. Nokomis creates healing potions, builds and repairs the summer and winter homes of the family, packs dry fish, weaves fishing nets, cooks, wears a large hunting knife on her hip, and does any task that’s required.
Yellow Kettle, Omakayas’ adopted mother gets the fire going in the morning, takes care of the children and keeps them busy with work required to keep the family fed and clothed. Omakayas helps her mother tan hides that are eventually sewn into clothes.
DeyDey is a trapper and father to Angelina, Pinch, baby Neewo and his adopted daughter Omakayas. Neewo is the infant’s temporary name for only certain people of the village are permitted to name the babies. DeyDey is half French and half Ojibwas. DeyDey spends a majority of his time away from the house trapping animals, in order to trade the pelts at the store for food and cloths.
The children are taught skills that will enhance their lives. However not all the children are instructed in the same areas. Omakayas helps her mother in tanning, but Angelina has other chores. However all are taught to work as a unit. At harvest time everyone must help, except those out hunting or trapping. During the growing season the children are sent out to the fields to chase away the greedy birds. All children are taught to respect the land and what it provides and always give thanks of tobacco when they take from the spirits. Children are also taught to respect and not disagree with their elders.
When DeyDey is home the rules of the house are very strict. A meal is cooked by both Nokomis and Yellow Kettle to celebrate his arrival. After dinner Nokomis and DeyDey smoke their pipes. DeyDey is seen as strength and protection for the family and homes. His trapping partners, Fishtail and LaPointe talk about their fears of the white people moving on to their land and forcing the Ojibwas to move. The men see the whites as “greedy children” who will not be satisfied until the have taken and own everything. While DeyDey seems strong and important to the family, I see the women as even stronger for their efforts hold the household together while DeyDey is “gone hunting.” The women are flexible and able to perform many tasks at one time. No culture is by any means perfect!
Small pox enters their village and kills many, including Omakaya’s love, Neewo. Everyone is left extremely weak form this white disease. An unforgiving winter follows with bitter temperatures and hunger. DeyDey is too weak to hunt or to trap and the heavy snows make game scarce. Omakaya wishes ice could be a meal for there is ice everywhere. When DeyDey becomes strong, he is forced to borrow on his next year’s trappings to secure some food for his family. Food brings back the body and laughter brings back the spirit, a spirit that endured great suffering from a disease the Ojibwas has no medicine to prevent or cure for it came from whites. Gary Larson was my spirit enhancer.
Sickness is that cursed surprise that saunters into a home and turns it on its head. While expecting one danger, and even more insidious demon arrives. When people endure a severe illness the consequences of their disease is never truly known to others until they themselves are confronted with it. After Chernobyl a very wise woman wrote a book A Day in the News. Her underlying theme was that the nuclear accident did not last for one day, but still effects lives today and for a long time to come. Such is the case of disease.
The smallpox disease that took over DeyDey and his family did not affect the family with merely the fever and the itching, but it weakened them, and brought starvation to their door during a brutal winter. It deformed their faces, and enhanced their anger toward the white people for it was the immigrants’ disease.
To this day, the Native North American lands are used and abused by the immigrants who came to this country and saw the indigenous people as intruders and obstacles to the white desire, i.e.: to own and control everything. It is regrettable that Ms. LaDuke is not yet our president. Louise Erdrich’s The Birch Bark House was a book to which one can readily relate and enjoy.

We speak in a whisper,
Afraid to be heard;
When people are near,
We speak not a word.
Alone in our secret,
Together we sigh,
For one smiling day to be free

The words and music were written by Oscar Hammerstein II in order to depict the devotion of two slaves for one another under the onerous rule of an egotistical king. The two slaves wish only to express their love for one another but are forbidden because their class and cast do not permit them such a right; their right is to remain silent and express contentment with being kicked by their ruler.

Today these words are found within the walls of public education. We teachers speak in whispers, afraid to be heard. We discuss the administrative policies in ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) dictate that we either pass our students with at least a C or be tortured with endless reams of paperwork from marking period to marking period. We recognize that the only interpretive support given to ESOL students is Spanish. The students void of flesh and bone translators usually progress far more quickly in their second language because they have no translator safety net. We speak in whispers because we know our history. We know that WWII was won by people with Spanish last names.

We know and can only whisper the letters FTE, monies given to schools due to numbers…how many special needs students do you have? You go count them, and get those numbers high, because for every needy child we will give you money. Encourage parents to put their children into these fruitless ESE and ESOL programs with sympathetic ears…parents feed off of sympathy and understanding. Once they have signed their child into a program it will be virtually impossible to get them out, and then the community colleges can feed off of them when they graduate. It’s all good. Shhhh! Whisper. Mainstream students? Who cares? They are fodder or our next political representatives!

When people are near, we silence ourselves and move on to another area, separately. We must not be seen together again for some time. We must, or pay the consequences of freedom of speech. We must not tell the public that not only are the children before us the products of extreme negligence by their producers, but that their offspring depict the parents’ disrespect for us with their parroting of rude comments that were once confined to public transit toilets. We must not tell that many of our students are put to sleep with Nyquil, (even though they haven’t any cold symptoms), and then pumped with that chocolaty drink Yoo-hoo, or its lighter versions Coke and Pepsi in order to reverse the effects of the previous resulting in a schizoid behavior.

We whisper knowing that security, the responsibility of the administration, is nonexistent. The children are not fools. They are quite wise and have all the time in the world to watch as their administrators talk endlessly with each other during “security duty.” They watch, and are instantly able to see that there is no security, and wander halls during times that they are supposed to be in class, using their cell phones, hooking up with friends, calling their parents, and just plain ganging up. Did that just read, “calling parents”? Indeed it did. Even though parents know that their children are not permitted to use their cell phones in school, they actually encourage their children to call them throughout the day. It is not unusual to take an MP3 player away from a student, have the student ask for a pass to the bathroom, (one cannot deny the student their right to the bathroom – ever), and before the student returns to the classroom have the telephone ring with the parent demanding the return of their angel’s very expensive MP3. Two questions: 1) If it is such a cherished jewel, why is it in school? 2) Why are parents encouraging the blatant breaking of school policy?

We whisper knowing that acts of violence are brewing and that there is only one dedicated security dean for thousands of students, the others are all sitting on their golf carts, sharing entertaining stories of yester-year, or hiding out in the back of some storage space until their assigned security duty is complete.

We are afraid for our students; our children, for we know. We know that some students will succeed because they have respect for themselves without the cell phone or the IPOD to make them appear important. That’s what those toys are for; nothing more. Accessories that one feels the need to have on display 24/7 are only there to give the appearance of self importance. Parents who have no respect for themselves produce likewise children. Parents accessorize with cell phones, laptops, IPODs, etc., and their offspring can only do likewise for they only know what they see.

We are afraid for our students for equally we realize the corporate game that surrounds us in the tourist state that is designed to entrap students into believing that they’re graduates, with scholarly academic talents when they are but drones designed to earn minimum wage, and work in theme parks, on touring buses, at cash registers, in hospitality/hotel/motel businesses, etc. These students will also be sacrificed in wars or fill our corporate prisons. To a prison owner each prisoner is a huge dollar sign, and to drug testing companies those prisons hold many rats/prisoners for their tests….do not be cruel to animals!

We speak not a word because we are not permitted to say, “The emperor is naked! He is wearing nothing!” When our children come to us after 12 or 13 years of a grueling and drooling education and ask; “Why am I to shell out $50,000 to a college for a diploma and spend (what appears to them an eternity) to pay it back when all I will earn is a pittance sum?” We cannot say, “Because college is a business and it is our job to pump you full of college glories when we know that college did little or nothing for our purse. We know that only “the chosen” are groomed for the glory….we have the right to remain silent because we are only teachers; i.e.: the janitors who clean-up after parents who never really learned to think and see no need for their children to do more than program the remote control! Look honey how smart our darling is. Look, our remote is programmed. We have produced a genius!

Welcome to the sound bite generation. They can only absorb that much information in a 60 minute period because television has raised them juxtaposed dysfunctional environments that claim normalcy. (It is told that every now and then there are meetings of normal parents who need only to meet at a small outside bistro table for there is no need to rent a hall with numbers so few.)

Shhh! Teachers, please!
Let them sleep off their lack of self-respect.
Let them believe a little longer that they have a chance to be the next superstar sports figure, or premier music generator, or movie star, or even president of the not so united states of North America. Shhh!
We speak in a whisper,
Afraid to be heard;
When people are near,
We speak not a word.
Alone in our secret,
Together we sigh,
For one smiling day to be free

The words and music were written by Oscar Hammerstein II in order to depict the devotion of two slaves for one another under the onerous rule of an egotistical king. The two slaves wish only to express their love for one another but are forbidden because their class and cast does not permit them such a right; their right is to remain silent and express contentment with being kicked by their ruler.

“We are shut up in schools and college recitation rooms for ten to fifteen years, and come out at least with a belly full of words and do not know a thing. We cannot use our hands, or our legs, or our eyes, or our arms. We do not know an edible root in the woods. We cannot tell our course by the stars, not the hour of the day by the sun.” Ralph Waldo Emerson on the topic of public and college education. When will we put an end to this foolishness called Public Education that siphons dollars from our pockets to support wages to people who fuel buses, heat and air condition schools, make-up ridiculous bus routes, build behemoth monuments that house cities of students that are forgotten in the maze, pay disproportionate salaries to those untalented teachers at the trough who gained a diploma from OZ permitting them to be leaders when they are usually no more than coaches? ...oh, please people! Tear down this system of holding tanks and re-create a learning system that opens minds to thought rather repetitive redundancies.
To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men (and women). by Abraham Lincoln.

Displaced tribal peoples commonly regarded Europeans as crazy. In 1744 the Chiefs of the Six Nations declined an offer to send their sons to the College of William & Mary giving the following reply: Several of our young people were formerly brought up at the colleges of the northern provinces: they were instructed in your sciences; but when they came back to us, they were bad runners, ignorant of every means of living in the woods…neither fit hunters, warriors nor counselors, they were totally good for nothing.”
Now it should be considered that we no longer are a hunting race with bow and arrow, however we still forage, yet we never explain to our young how oneis to go about the best techniques for foraging; i.e.: how not to become the dupe whether in the grocery, department or specialty store. Furthermore our young believe that all that is online is gospel, and that to excel to stardom provides no greater glory. Poppycock such as this is born in the home that glorifies that neon god known as television. SHUT IT OFF!
The mathematic functions are to be found on a calculator, yet the function itself is not at all understood, and no one seems to know that there are 60 seconds in a minute, nor 60 minutes in an hour, because if it's not digital, then there is no time. Perimeters are numbers that are to be added up, but without the consideration for precisely for what it is that the sum stands. And may the supreme powers have mercy when you hear your off-spring explain what area calculation means. Don't be surprise if you hear something about planting corn!
Why are we all agreeing to pay for this costly thing called education when all it does is pick our pockets to support out of work coaches as principals, superintendents, and secreted away district representatives? Answers, please. And don't be anonymous...there is safety in numbers.
"To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men." by Abraham Lincoln (up date this to "and women.")