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Showing posts from December, 2010

Not or Never

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A fascinating issue is playing out in the editorial pages of my local paper. Actually, just the fact that I still have a local newspaper is in no small way related to this issue. But that comes later. Here's the deal: The state Superintendent of Public Instruction recently ruled that it's Ok for students to use spell checks when taking tests on computers, or for any assignment. First of all, it's not that they could prevent this, but just the fact that a ruling came down from on high has sparked a huge disagreement. For some it's about the importance of knowing how to spell words. If we allow students to conveniently have their mistakes corrected for them then we are doing a huge disservice to them. On the other side is the view that using a spell check program actually teaches spelling. I see the merits of both sides. The traditionalists want students to learn spelling and grammar. The progressives feel that while important, it's more important to allow

Confirm Now

Today I had a real social network experience. A friend of mine posted an article from CNN about a new study of Baby Boomers. This study concluded that the majority of boomers (born between 1946 and 1964) were depressed. Among other things it suggested that "boomers" were dealing with depression because all their dreams of a better world were not realized. OK things are not going well these days. The economy is in the toilet, the cost of a college education is through the roof, people are seeing terrorists everywhere, while many of the real terrorists look like their next door neighbors. Hate abounds. Homelessness thrives, and it's difficult to have a conversation of substance lest you step on somebody's sensibilities. In my view, we boomers are not any more depressed than anyone of any generation. OK, so I've been having this ongoing online discussion with a Facebook friend of a friend all day. In the end, though we disagree on everything from the definit

Advice

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I'll be brief, I promise. No lecture. No diatribe. Just the facts. I saw it in the paper this morning. One of those advice columns, but not the famous ones. This guy writes in with a real concern about his wife. Sees as if she went out and bought an expensive bottle of perfume. Then she gives him specific instructions to wrap it up and give it to her for a Christmas present. That simple. His complaint was that he longed to get back to the way his family did holiday gift giving. He used the words joy and surprise. I'm not sure which got to me more, the initial scenario he presented or the "advice" he was given. The columnist missed the boat on this one. She told him to accept that his wife has clear expectations about how gifts should be given and wanted to adhere to her family's holiday traditions. She further urged this guy to find what he loved about his wife the most and focus on that. Imagine that, no mention of this distorted notion of hol

What Do You Know?

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"How many of you have heard of Nelson Mandela?" The class of 32 high school seniors barely moved until one hand went up. "Can you tell us something about Nelson Mandela," the student teacher asked. "Ah... he looks a lot like Morgan Freeman." In one of my observations the other day, I heard the aforementioned discussion. Yes, it's really true that many college bound high school seniors know very little about South Africa and Nelson Mandela. When this particular student teacher introduced his world affairs class to the topic, I was asked by the cooperating teacher (aka master teacher) to participate in the discussion. He was eager to have me tell the class about the day that Mandela was released, given that it was a most memorable day in my own classroom and something that these students knew very little about. If you do the math it's easy to see why. They were barely 2 years old at the time. The intro lessen for my student teacher went very

About the Money

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It's a vague recollection, but I remember it clearly. Is that a contradiction? Not really, I definitely recall an exchange in the main hallway of my old school. It was late afternoon, between 4:30 and 5:00p.m. As I remember, I was walking toward the main office probably turning in my attendance sheets. A student walked toward me and said hello. He called me by name. I reciprocated, calling him by name. He knew me though he was never in one of my classes. I knew him because I'd seen him play on our school's basketball team and many of my students were his friends. He had just signed a letter of intent to play basketball for the University of Kansas (KU) one the perennial powerhouses of college hoops. I followed his career through ESPN and was only mildly surprised when he only played two years of collegiate ball and turned pro after only two years. The money is too big to turn down, especially for a kid from Richmond, California. As with all NBA players, p

Say Something

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I taught Arthur Miller's Pulitzer Prize winning play Death of a Salesman for over 20 years. Never got tired of listening to the lines either, though I must admit, I was always conscious of where I needed to be by the time a class period ended. That makes for hoping something I know will happen does happen before the bell rings. It means, too, that some discussions have to be revisited because getting back into the moment will take 24 hours. Still, it all got done and I can truthfully say that it was a rare student who didn't find something to relate to in the anguish of the Loman family. I thought about teaching the play this week because of a few discussions I've read and had lately about substance. In this tabloid Twitter technological trifecta that is media today, there is much that passes for journalism, that passes for drama, that passes for a good story that is featherweight. Sadly, that's just the way most folks like it. When I taught "Salesman"