Daily Blues & Views

 The newly appointed Secretary of Education, Dr. Miguel Cardona delivered some acceptance remarks this morning.  At the conclusion of his presentation, he quoted a Spanish saying that was most appropriate.  Translated, it means, "We gain strength from joining together." Hearing these words of wisdom came on the heels of reading an article directed at teachers who are having trouble keeping their students engaged.  With the loss of traditional classrooms comes the added pressure to get students to buy into the whole world of virtual education.  There are ways but that means taking routine lessons and super-charging them with some little things that are designed to get students' attention in dynamic if not dramatic ways.  Ways, I would submit that are unforgettable.   In the words of a tried and true professional, focus on some "grabbers" at the outset and see if they don't serve you well.  Here's an example.  I have taught many novels by ...

 They are only small phrases, but we hear them all the time.  Perhaps a different or embellished way of spouting a cliche?  Perhaps something someone said in our formative years that wouldn't leave us alone.  So enchanting that we made it part of our permanent response file. I'm talking about those expressions people say, repeatedly, that somehow stick with us over the years.  Case in point: Lots of folks say "Oh Brother," when astonished or faced with sudden disappointment.  I say "Oh Brother, Bob."  That's because about 40 years ago I had a girlfriend whose family emulated their father who had a brother named Bob.  My friend's father would say "Oh Brother, Bob as a small child responding to an older brother.  The phrase stuck was passed on to every family member, and then to me when exposed to its constant use.  Perhaps adding "Bob" gives it more appeal, more sting, more astonishment?  Probably not.  Still, I've noticed when ...

 My old high school (the one I attended, not taught at) has a Facebook page.  "People Who Attended________-High School." Mostly it's Baby Boomers discussing their favorite songs from the 60s, whatever happened to a favorite pizza place, or hangout, and sharing scanned photos from old football games or dances.  Seems to me that the people who frequent this page are the ones clinging to their youthful identities a bit more than most.  I think too, that many of them still live within the boundaries of the school district.  In any case, whenever I look there, a name rings a bell, the death of a former teacher is announced, or more frequently these days, the passing of a former student is the topic of discussion. My high school years were 1962-65.  It was the era of car clubs for boys, social clubs for girls, and lots of recognition for school athletics. There was a dance every Friday night.  That's right, every Friday night.  Sometimes admission was o...

 Our lives are becoming more virtual every day.  Seems as if the combination of the pandemic and the necessity to persevere with everything we desire has created a newfound dependence on our digital connections.  We buy clothing, linen, food, and now most of our holiday gifts online.  School is no longer about buildings and putting our seats together to work cooperatively.   We already know that things will not be the same if/when we experience some sort of normalcy, but now it seems as if some of those changes are coming into sharp focus exponentially.  Who will we be when our relationships with others outside our inner family circles tail off.  When the way we interact with others becomes limited?  Our experiences are transforming before our eyes.   What will be lost and gained without the in-person school?  Even now, as we watch live telecast sports events we see the haunting transformations.  Most notably are the empty...

 Looks like the Thanksgiving table will be much smaller this year.  Most folks will honor the  CDC cautions and keep their distance as COVID 19 seeks to darken the winter months with a spike.  People are probably missing their family members more this year after months of Zoom calls, Face Times, and all manner of restricted, distanced covered-up behaviors.   Hopefully, the new normal will have a positive side, health benefits, of course, but also a reflection on the importance of family and not taking things for granted.   Doing the holidays alone is an experience I wish for everyone.  Sure, it's rather sad, but at the same time can be enriching.  I've done it a few times, and like any good therapist will tell you, "it's just a day." Whether you sit with no one,  just one, or your entire family, Thanksgiving, in particular, is the stuff of memories.  Rich in family lore, it was, for many years the only non-corrupted holiday....

 Take a good look at the faces.  These are the people.  Look at the rigidity.  See their smiles.  Hear their voices and match that sound with the countenances you see. Take a good look at the faces.  They lie without batting an eye.   She is asked, will the President attend the inauguration of President-elect Biden?  She replies that the President will attend his own inauguration.  That is not the question; that is not going to happen.   Take a good look at the faces of these people.  These are the people who lust for power.  When that power is no more, they conveniently lapse into an alternative universe for their alternative facts.   Take a good look at the faces.  They belong to the wrong people.  The wrong people in the halls of power. Wrong. All, all, wrong.   Maybe their brains are wired differently than most others.  They certainly act like it.  Maybe they are not able to...

  So we wait for the incumbent to concede.  Most of us have stopped waiting because it's not possible.  Blood from a turnip and all that.  The refrain pulsing in my brain is this Dylan song.  I've listened to various versions in the last few days, but the original still shines bright.   Often when we return to a Dylan song after years of letting it lie, we find that the images are fresh and have new meanings for our time.  Like his idol, Woody Guthrie, Dylan is able to do that. The orphan with the gun sees the saints have begun to stir The sailors are seasick and the army is silent...holding onto nothing but a red hat. The harvest of coincidence leaves the artist without a brush to hold stepping stones lead away, but to where? Change your clothes don't answer the door Turn off the lights It's all over now. You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast Yonder stands your orphan wi...

A man lives in the parking lot.  Nobody knows how he first got there because the chain-link fence that surrounds the small lot was there first.  But he's there, inside his home of blue tarp.  A gate that would open the parking lot to cars exists,  if that is what the owner wanted.  He must not.  Does he even know somebody is living there? Around my hometown, there are inner tent cities in the inner-city.  The people huddle in all manner of camping tents that are often surrounded by campfires, piles of trash, bicycles, grocery carts, and abandoned furniture.  But the parking lot near my home has only one occupant.   I know someone is in there because I heard his voice once. Either he was talking on a phone or he had a visitor because he was ranting to someone about "the money."  But that is the only context I have for his conversation.  I did not stay to listen.   If anybody minds that he lives in the parking lot, they...

 Even though it seems like half the country is in denial, we are in the middle of a pandemic that shows no signs of slowing up. In fact, if the statistics of the past week are any indication, the predicted "long dark winter" expected by many health professionals is at our doorstep.  Historically, there will be many attempts to document the social history of this time.  That is, how are people faring in their day to day lives?  What kinds of changes have we adapted to, what do we now do and forget to do now that going outside means wearing a mask or not being able to use cash, or the diminished hours that many retail stores and restaurants have adopted? Will the President and administration that refuses to take responsibility be elected to a second term?  Despite what the polls say, I think it's still possible that the Denier in Chief, with all his whining and voter suppression tactics, could still pull this election out of the jaws of defeat.  It will take ...

 My downsizing continues.  The new target is the release of some books I've been carrying around for decades.  Much of this cache comes from my college years in the late 1960s.  What better place to find a new home for some of this material than a small independent bookshop with the appropriate name of Revolution Books.  Actually, even though they have a good collection of political books and ephemera, some vinyl records, and an abundance of jigsaw puzzles, the store features a selective and eclectic selection of mostly used books.   As you might surmise, this little store is an anomaly.  But it seems to be eeking out survival during this dark economic time.  The atmosphere of the store is welcoming, and the young couple that owns it are obviously living their dream.   So I march in with 7 books in a paper grocery bag.  The woman is there; she gets excited about my books and quickly calls her husband.  He instructs her to ...

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened                                                     -Dr. Seuss  I know I need to let go.  I've been trying for about 5 years now.  But I hold them in my hands, look at the parts, the old notes, the well-preserved folders...and then I just put them back until the urge hits again.  That's usually on a rainy day or a few months down the road.   My file cabinet has slimmed down considerably, but I just can't seem to throw away everything even though I know that I'll never use these books or curriculum materials again.  I thought that a beginning teacher would want them.  But they don't even have classrooms anymore.  Nobody knows when onsite classes will return or what teaching will look like if and when this pandemic has passed.   So the task remains....

 I'd never seen one before,      up close, or held one in my hand. But that summer of loss,      when I saw you walk away, on that street 3000 miles to the East,      I couldn't know that would be the last time my eyes would see you shine. But that evening, distancing myself from all, I wandered in a deep green backyard and the fireflies emerged. With the inherited awe of a child,  I reached out and they came to me, Fireflies, When our life together ended,      I left behind fireflies.

 When I see some of the highest officials in the US government deny the existence of systemic racism, I know they have no knowledge of American history.  They are ignorant, there is no other way to say it.  Anyone with any accurate knowledge of the history of this country knows about the institutional attempts to exclude various ethnic groups from all the blessings of liberty.  The documentation is there for all to see.  The primary sources are rich in detail. As a history teacher, I always considered textbooks more as primary sources rather than the secondary sources they are.  That's because textbooks throughout the decades provide a revealing look into both the interpretation and inclusivity of our history.  These days any text worthwhile contains both narrative and primary sources.  In fact, the Advanced Placement history exam usually is based on historical interpretation of various documents. But for the uneducated, history is a narrative....

 How much more dystopic can it get? We were wondering until the nearby forest fires surrounded us with thick smoke that gave us more reasons to stay inside and wear a proper mask if we have to go outside.  "Greetings from the worst air quality in the world," is the way I started an email to a friend who, bombarded by media images of Portland, was wondering how we are managing in this new reality.  Many of my friends from Florida to the Yukon have checked in lately.  I give them a virtual smile and explain that we are muddling along. This got me thinking about the extremes in weather and the natural disasters I've been through in the years before the pandemic.  Growing up in Southern California there were always forest fires that blocked the sun and sent light ash tumbling down on cars and backyard swimming pools.  Every few years we were sent home from school or treated to a day off by driving rainstorms that flooded local streets where flood control basins...

We all have some.  Those things we can't seem to throw away.  The things that hang around year after year.  The things we keep.  Most of us that have lived for decades have gone through many downsizes.  As we age, we continue to downsize.  Furniture, books, records and CDs, clothing, photos, recreational gear.  But some things remain.  The things we keep.  The things we can't seem to move along or break free from, or even just toss. Of course, there are reasons some of these objects can't seem to find their way to a Goodwill, classified ad, or even a trash can.  From those objects, I submit, we can learn a good deal about ourselves and why we keep hanging on to some things. One reason might be that some personal objects like letters, journals, and photos just can't be thoroughly destroyed.  Unless we have a fireplace, it's often difficult to find a satisfying way to rid ourselves of these burdens.  We have to talk ourselve...

57 years ago today, right about the time this is written, I remember exactly where I was.  On this hot Southern California afternoon, I was not swimming with neighborhood kids.  I was not playing baseball or records, or even getting ready for my Junior year in high school which was just two weeks away. I was watching television, or rather watching history.  This was the day and time of the March on Washington, D.C. and the list of speakers and entertainers held my attention.  I recall trying to get my sister and a couple of her friends to watch with me but they were only interested in their social scene about to be revived with the approaching new school year.  My mom was in our pantry sitting by an ironing board.  Periodically, I'd run back there and scream, "You gotta see this, it's history in the making." "You can tell me all about it," was all I got in reply. So I returned to sit by the old Packard Bell TV with the well-worn dials that adjusted volum...

I heard recently from a former colleague of mine.  We talk from time to time.  He calls me, truth be told, and seems to have a need to fill me in on life in the Bay Area.  I moved 14 years ago after living there for about 35 years.  I'm fortunate to have his friendship because I do value the newsy updates. This latest call was consumed by our discussion of life after COVID and the upcoming opening of the school year.  We both are fortunate to be retired and not have to deal with the online challenges currently facing our colleagues still in the classroom. Always, he fills me in on who died, and who is and is not doing well.  This last call, however, had something with a twist.  We talked about the daughter of a former colleague of ours who died about 6 months ago.  The daughter was charged with scattering her mother's ashes at the mountain camp that they both attended every summer for many years.  The camp is a beautiful, woodsy sight in th...

Like many retired teachers, I get the pull come late August.  It's always been an exciting time for those who enter the classroom because the teaching profession enjoys the luxury of starting over every year.  That little renewal is often what it takes to keep fresh, keep motivated, keep going.  The job itself is exhausting and predictable is the loss of anticipation and the subtle depression that slides in by late October. I continue to have school dreams too.  Most educators have them and even after retirement, they continue to surprise.  Last week I had two such dreams, the most significant being one where a class of seniors, feeling done, did not want to stick around so they slowly bit by bit exited the classroom.  I was powerless to do anything short of issuing threats, pleas, warnings, or immediate consequences.  Easy dream to interpret. Powerlessness figures heavily in educating another human being. My feeling is that this latest cluster of...

When all the "what was it like?" questions about the great pandemic of 2020 are asked I wonder how many will answer with only the physical conditions and ramifications.  The mental consequences are beginning to add up now.  People are depressed.  They are beginning to talk about their mental health freely.  Simply put, there is much to be depressed about.   Unforeseen was the fact that personal freedoms would collide so sharply with the good of the order.  There has emerged a basic misunderstanding about what exactly basic freedoms are, and how they manifest themselves in a democracy.  My first government teacher used to use the old cliche, "your rights end at the tip of your nose."  Simply put, your rights and freedoms are not absolute.  I supposed we could say that those rights end at the tip of your unmasked nose for some. One of the first things I learned to do when I taught seniors American Government was to draw a continuum with a ...

One of the more remarkable adaptations that the COVID pandemic has wrought concerns the media.  The fact that people can be interviewed from their homes via new technology has made many production schedules function as normal. We see the local news delivered from home by our recognizable home teams.  We see the classic news shows like Face the Nation and Meet the Press go on as usual.  In many instances, we are now familiar with virtual pane discussions.  We do it at home via Zoom, and they do it in the newsroom daily on CNN. I've been fascinated by the rooms from which people are now broadcasting.  Instead of the old, "thank you for inviting us into your homes," it's a two-way street and we are privy to go into the homes of our favorite news personalities.  One of my local weather guys often has his cat sitting on his desk with him.  Occasionally, social media goes viral with the interruption of a child or a domestic pet.  Most of the time, the...

Most teachers get the pull.  This is the time of year when we begin to think about next year and put a little energy into the upcoming new semester.  Most teachers enjoy this.  It can be as simple as going toma stationery store or office supply and looking at colorful folders or anything that's new. Not so this year.  This year begins with an IF.  If there will be school as we know it.  Chances are that's a resounding no. I count myself as one of the fortunate because I'm retired.  Yet, that pull to return never leaves and this year it's tempered with the question of what would I have done? I admit I've been thinking about how I would approach distance learning.  In my 40 years, I did a bit of it, as we all have.  What stands out for me most is that it depends on what subject is being taught.  For a Language Arts/Social Science teacher, it might not be such a big deal.  Sure, there will be fewer discussions and probably none on t...

We've moved into the dog days of summer.  In Portland that means that you can wash your car and have it last for a few weeks.  There is no rain in the immediate future, so we get to enjoy the shine for a bit. But nothing this year is predictable.  We have very little to look forward to.  Things have disappeared.  They have been canceled.  People are longing for that which they resisted last year.  This how it is.  When those of us who survive tell the younger generation all the "how it was" tales, what will we say? We will talk about the time we couldn't go to restaurants, but some restaurants came to us by delivery.  The great mask dilemma will no doubt be a big topic.  Even then there will be no adequate response to the reasoning some folks used to resist wearing a mask. The politicization of almost everything will surely find its way to the discussion.  In that category will come the mother of all denial in describing how s...

Even though the President of the United States has declared the BLACK LIVES MATTER movement  "a symbol of hate" and a threat to the country, the nation nevertheless is having a racial reckoning.  Look at the composition of the demonstrations in most American cities and it's apparent that many white folks get it.  They need no explanation.  Yet this begs the question of why so many people in the US don't really know their own history.  I'm of the opinion that the answer is right in front of us.  Just look in our history books. For years the conventional wisdom held that history was best taught from history books.  Those cumbersome texts we all carried around at some point were really worthless when it comes to accurate history.  I know I'm generalizing, but as one who taught the subject at one time collected and many texts as I could, the real history of this country was seldom found in those volumes. From the time I first walked into a classr...

I awake with a simple thought,      sometimes laughing or silently singing, an advertising slogan, a punchline, or something said      decades ago. This condition has accompanied me through the pandemic,      there is no reason to smile or giggle so freely, yet I persist, momentarily unconscious that the universe is out of synch. There is no baseball,      there are no restaurants fully functioning, we wear masks, over the ones that everybody wears,      the Triple Crown is in semi-reverse order, the first Saturday in May is now in September,   The President is mentally ill,      his condition has infected thousands that are counted in the millions, there is no football,      we can no longer take orders, we take knees,      even if too many have heads inside poisonous clouds, there is no basketball,      in the grocery stor...

We are in the middle of another awakening on race relations.  There are town halls "on race" and everything from public service announcements to panel discussions.  This happens from time to time.  Yet, this time it feels different.  Maybe it is because those marching in the streets are a more diverse group than ever.  But still, the term race is used freely, with barely a mention that it is, in fact, a bogus concept.  That's right, it is a lie, a human construct, that, in reality, does not exist. I think it might be useful to but an anthropologist or a geneticist on one of these panels or programs to remind or reveal to those watching and speaking that there is little genetic difference between what most cling to as a race.  It's hard to believe that the archaic notion of different races still persists.  Some of the pseudo-scientists of the past, especially those who wrote books or espoused their own debunked theories are still cited by those wh...

I have a very rare record.  It is a 7 inch 331/3 disc that was recorded in 1968.  This small artifact would have no real value save for a few songs by one of the artists recorded. Here's the story:  Early in 1968 I took interest in a new literary magazine being planned by some UCLA students.  I think it was an ad in The Daily Bruin newspaper that first sparked my interest.  I was writing a lot of poetry in those days and was looking for outlets to publish.  Since I had succeeded in applying for and then getting accepted to a poetry workshop course, I had the novel thought in my mind that what I was saying might be worthy of a larget audience. As is often the case, when I met with a small group of the students behind the newspaper ad/call for submissions, I emerged as one of the "poetry editors" of the magazine.  To be sure, this was a fledgling effort, but the people involved had some solid ideas.  I liked them and their vision. The magazin...