We Too!

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Gun Control, gun owners, gun violence, guns, Me Too!, murder, NRA, Parkland, safe schools, Second Amendment, students

The unspeakable tragedies of American gun violence regularly raise hopes that we can, at last, deal with this national cancer. And, just as regularly, these hopes are dashed.

The recent killing of seventeen souls — most of them students — at a Florida high school, and the angry, politically-focused response of many of the survivors, raise our hopes once again.

This time, there may be a slightly better chance for progress. These kids elicit powerful emotions. But they and their supporters need an organized political force, proven in battle, that could test an adversary as powerful and implacable as the NRA and its legion of American gun-owners.

Sadly, that force will not come from a political party. Certainly not from the Republicans and probably not from the Democrats. Politicians, understandably, follow before they lead and, so far, no force has come even remotely close to challenging the political influence of the NRA and its supporters.

Sensible gun policies need American women. For many decades, they have demonstrated the power of organization, most significantly voting rights, and, when political means have failed — the Equal Rights Amendment, for example — they have built on social activism and educational achievement to earn power and influence.

The Me Too movement has added an important element to women’s activist muscle, demonstrating that mass support can assuage individuals’ fears of retribution, and sexual menace and violence can be successfully challenged.

The menace and the violence that comes from guns is not that different. Behind a pinch in the ass or a lewd remark lies the serious possibility of rape. Behind a gun in the glove compartment or concealed under a jacket lies the serious possibility of death.

Most sexual predators are men. Most gun-owners, including NRA supporters, are men. Women are savvy enough to recognize that relative security from sexual predators means little if they, and their loved ones, might be victims of gun predators.

I’m not proposing a war of the sexes. But American men — already in free-fall, now reeling from the disgrace of icons of male power, and more divided than women over the gun issue — are simply not in a position to lead.

Men grieve just as profoundly as women at the loss of a child to gun violence. But there still is a symbolism in motherhood that would make an expanded Me Too movement, allied with the voices of the young, especially powerful.

There’s a name waiting for the movement. It’s at the top of the page. And I’m ready to follow.

Sense and Censorship

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African Americans, arts, bias, censorship, free speech, government officials, police, public buildings, schools, students

In March 2016, an exhibition of selected art works by Denver public school students, displayed in Denver’s municipal building, included a painting that portrays an obviously white policeman, wearing a KKK hood, pointing a gun at a black youngster wearing a hoodie, arms raised. A portion of the Confederate flag, imposed over an American flag, comprises the background.

Some, especially the police, were offended, and the picture was removed, reportedly at the request of the 10th-grade artist herself (she has declined any public comment). Days later, Denver’s mayor, police chief, acting superintendent of schools, and the artist’s school principal met with her. In public comments, they threaded the diplomatic needle, calling the meeting a teachable moment for all involved.

The mayor said there was no intent to censor, but, in calling attention to the public nature of the building and the sensitivities of its government workers, he seemed to suggest that there are circumstances where censorship is justified.

He is right.

In this particular case, public is the key word. The building, where the selected art works were displayed, is not just a public venue, but one devoted to the work of officials who are sworn to promote the public good. However you define the public good, it starts with a commitment to fair, non-biased treatment of one’s constituents — the public.

Officials and private citizens are equal parts of that equation. Fairness and non-bias has to flow from officialdom, but also back to them. A space that facilitates these transactions assumes a symbolism far out of proportion to its pedestrian function. It must be, and must be perceived to be, neutral toward every constituent.

The painting in question undoubtedly speaks to those who feel that African-Americans are victims of police violence. But there are others who feel differently. Imagine a different painting, hung in the same atrium among the other student art works, which portrays an African-American male, wearing something as sinister as a KKK hood, and pointing a gun at a police officer, hands up.

To treat that painting more favorably than our student-artist’s (or vice versa) would be unjust and unwise.

The student had every right to paint what she painted and her school was right in supporting her. The painting had a right to be seen. It’s where it was placed that created the issue. A private setting would have been unimpeachable; displaying it at her public school, perhaps a little more problematic, raising challenging questions about the appearance of bias but also about a school’s responsibility to promote critical thought.

Interestingly, the statement the student was making would never have had the impact it did if no one had objected to where it got displayed. Now, there’s an idea!!

Back to School – Part I

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boarding school, discipline, English, JFK, Kaduna, Kano, Nigeria, Northern Nigeria, Peace Corps, savanna, students, teaching

(Note: You’re at the beginning of this three-part account, each part published on a separate September date, and archived in reverse chronological order. Parts II and III are above.)

Late summer in the early 60‘s, I was excited about the approaching school year. Not off to college, which I had just finished, but to Northern Nigeria, in the Peace Corps, to teach in a boys’ secondary school.

Along with scores of other volunteers, I had just landed in Lagos, been briefed, then, along with the Northern contingent, bundled off to the airport, where we climbed a long ladder into the back door of our plane to Kaduna.

In Kaduna, I met my teaching partner and, after a group audience with the Premier of Northern Nigeria, who warned us to avoid politics, we picked up a few immediate necessities and the keys to a Volkswagen Microbus (the beginning of a vital, if occasionally rocky, relationship). I was designated driver, reminded that Nigerians drive on the left, and told to follow the accompanying Peace Corps van to Kano, about 125 miles away.

This would have been a good plan if: (1) I had ever driven on the left; (2) dodging goats, donkeys, cows, people, and other drivers, I had been able to keep up with the van, and; (3) the van driver had understood that accompany does not mean abandon in the gathering dusk in the middle of nowhere.

Kano, by the time we got there, was that darker-than-the-darkest dark you get, late at night, in a deep cave when your torch (flashlight) fails. We did, at least, have the address of the Peace Corps Rest House and, finally, with some multi-lingual help and a lot of frantic gesturing, found the right street, but were stymied by its random address numbering and, once that riddle was solved, by a locked door.

In the end, we found the proper authority, with key, and, after an abbreviated night, drove the ninety miles to our new school, which, at the end of a dirt road, was sitting unlocked, sunlit, welcoming, in the midst of the vast West African savanna, bordered by peanut, millet, and guinea-corn fields, and two small hills with monkeys.

Students and teachers greeted us warmly. Classes had already begun, and we added about 33% to a beleaguered force. There was also a large extra-curricular load our Peace Corps predecessors had carried, which staff were as eager to pass on to us as they had been, two years before, to them.

We — young, Kennedy-inspired, eager to please — were gratified to be so needed, and the track, basketball, soccer, and field-hockey teams, the school newspaper (hand-cranked mimeo), debate society, hoped-for library, and distantly-dreamt-of science lab they piled into our sack didn’t seem too daunting.

Perhaps we should have been more measured, but it kept us busy. What else was there to do after classes? The small town, just a mile away on the main road, with a market, a mosque, a petrol station, the District-Head’s compound, and a jail, didn’t seem to offer many diversions.

The school, too, was modest, just three years old, with seven small, one-story structures: headmaster’s office/staff room, three classroom buildings, two dormitories, and a mosque. No electricity or piped water. The no-electricity thing was just as well since our dim kerosene lamps attracted only hundreds of insects, not the thousands that electric lights would have enticed through the school’s glassless, screenless windows.

We operated in the British boarding school tradition, with student prefects meting out their brand of discipline in the dormitories, and the headmaster and teachers, theirs in the office or classroom.

I had read my share of British boarding-school novels, and was convinced that sweet reason, which had been effective on me in my Little Lord Fauntleroy days, was a better answer than sadism.

WRONG! One class, in particular, saw my guileless friendliness as an open invitation to mischief. As I tried, on my own, to stiffen discipline and regain control, their puzzlement at this sudden change of weather turned to indignation, then outright rebellion.

I took my problem to the headmaster, a thoughtful, even-handed Brit.

Simple, he said, they’ll all have to be beaten.

Beaten? But that’s so … and anyway, they’re not all ringleaders!

Perhaps, but anyone we exempt will get worse from their classmates, and then the prefects will reimpose order in their own way. Need I spell it out?

He did not. Dahiru, our end-of-class-period bell-ringer and administrator of corporal punishment, did the job with his bulala (a three-foot long hide whip) and, for the rest of my two years, the former rebels were respectful and cooperative, even friendly, insofar (I now understood) as teachers and students can be friendly.

There’s more, but this is enough for now …

Civics for the Befuddled

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authority, boycotts, censorship, civil rights, Colorado, demonstrations, free speech, Jefferson County, law, left-wing, political agenda, protocol, radicals, right-wing, school boards, school reform, students, teachers

In September 2014, the Jefferson County (Colorado) School Board recommended review of the A.P. American History curriculum, which, it suggested, should reflect free enterprise values, as well as respect for authority and for civil rights, and avoid elements that encourage or condone civil disorder, social strife, or disregard of the law.

The proposal met with less than universal acclaim. A teacher sickout briefly closed two schools, and then hundreds of students offered a commendably balanced response, showing the spirit of free enterprise and commitment to civil rights but also engaging in civil disorder, social strife, and disregard of the law as they fled classes and demonstrated in the streets.

Public discussion, already coarsened by the anguished resignation of a veteran Superintendent and by teacher anger at a Board scheme to link pay to classroom effectiveness, descended to fourth-grade So’s Your Old Man, with catch-phrases like Right-Wing Agenda and Censorship lobbed across the schoolyard, and Will of the People and Legitimate Authority lobbed back.

The battle was even until the Board President gassed his own troops by charging that the demonstrating students were simply pawns of the teachers.

It was at this point that I, normally a liberal, but one of those bleeding-heart ones, found myself inexplicably moved by the Board’s self-inflicted injury. Wondering how I could help, I recalled my high school Civics class and found, in the attic, a textbook moldy with age but fresh with the common-sense adages that made me the model citizen I am.  With some modifications to fit the situation, I offered its wisdom to the Board, which, in gratitude, asked me to share a few examples with you:

Lesson 1: What Is a Mandate?: Lincoln and FDR went through hell to earn their mandates. School board members with controversial reform plans, elected narrowly in low-turnout elections, have a platform but not a mandate. The Laws of Politics hold that: (1) Most voters are moderates; (2) Where voter engagement and turnout are low, radicals can mobilize true-believers and win simple-issue local elections; (3) But radicals’  passion elicits an equal and opposite reaction from those previously passive. When your position is as flimsy as a tenth-grader’s absence excuse and your advantage as easily lost as his algebra homework, test the waters with care.

Assignment: To temper your enthusiasm for bomb-throwing, read Tennyson’s ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ (‘Into the valley of death rode the 600 …’).

Lesson 2: The Value of Etiquette: Avoid unintentional offense so as to save the offense for when it is really needed. In layman’s terms, ‘Put a sock on it!’

Assignment: Read Emily Post. She may seem musty, but she is timeless.

Lesson 3: The Art of Warfare: With an understanding of the political limits within which you operate and the value of holding your tongue, you should be ready to proceed to the hard stuff.

Assignment: Read Mao Zedong on guerrilla war (‘The enemy attacks, we retreat … the enemy retreats, we attack …’ ). If taking advice from a Communist causes you discomfort, remember that, as leader of China, Mao was a fellow arch-conservative, so intolerant of social disorder, civil strife, and disregard of the law that he set up re-education camps with a curriculum that would warm your hearts.

Lesson 4: The Tortoise and the Hare: Endurance is the key, and the key to endurance is a steady pace and a calm temperament, for which reading is the ideal preparation.

Assignment: Read anything you find instructive and relaxing. However, as much as it may be your moral touchstone, avoid the Bible, which is filled with Prophets, including Jesus, who actively opposed vested authority, violated law and custom, and fomented strife in ways that no right-minded authority could tolerate.

School Reform? or Reform School?

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charter schools, education, education reform, educational testing, free enterprise, innovation, kardashians, public schools, seniority, students, teachers, teachers unions, tenure, value added, vouchers

It’s only fair that personal responsibility for a particular outcome, and the consequent credit or blame, should be proportionate to one’s influence over that outcome:

The Great Chicago Fire: Bossie – 5%; The Lantern – 10%; Mrs. O’Leary – 35%; Chicago Zoning/Building Codes – 50%

The Kardashian Phenomenon: Kardashian family – 20%; American stupidity – 80%

If you can understand what you’ve read so far, can explain percentages, can add the above figures and get 100% for each, and can deduce where the Chicago Fire occurred, some of the credit probably goes to your teachers. On the other hand, if Kardashian rings a bell, you have only yourself to blame.

By this time in your life, you couldn’t assign to your teachers a percentage figure for their contribution to your knowledge. Time has passed, but, more fundamental, there were too many factors that influenced what you learned or didn’t learn to isolate just one.

This simple truth seems to have eluded an increasingly vocal and influential bloc of reformers who see our public schools as failures and claim to have a clever rescue plan.

These reformers attribute the problems to a system, burdened by teacher seniority and tenure, and the stranglehold of teachers unions, that rewards complacent, mediocre teachers and discourages the bright and innovative. The reformers’ solution appears to rely on a vision of American free enterprise, where competition drives innovation, and the market rewards quality and efficiency as it punishes the merely acceptable.

Among their business-inspired reform proposals, which include vouchers and charter schools (another topic, another time), is bonus pay for meritorious performance and the Help Wanted pages for the laggards.

But it’s a flawed notion in at least two respects: (1) It misunderstands the fundamental nature of education; and (2) It cannot, with sufficient accuracy, isolate those elements of learning for which a teacher is responsible.

(1) Teaching youngsters is essentially a cooperative, not a competitive, enterprise. Teachers rely on each other to help set the overall tone of their school and to influence the mentality that each student carries from class to class, from day to day. A school isn’t a love-in. It is a tough environment. But introducing a competition with a few winners and plenty of losers can only hurt morale and affect the quality of education, especially if the competition is not fair.

(2) And it isn’t! The only non-biased measure of teacher effectiveness would be a quantitatively-scored test of each student’s performance that is compared with his/her previous test score in that same subject. Then, at least, you could begin to measure a teacher’s Value Added for each student. But testing can’t account for factors that intervene, even between two sequential tests, over which the teacher has no control — family situation, peer influence, physical health among many others.

This doesn’t mean teachers shouldn’t be evaluated. There is a model that could work. The drawback is, it’s old-school: a framework of professional norms that identifies proven best practices, along with a training, interning, mentoring, and evaluating process (by peers and supervisors). In roughly similar form, it seems to work for other service professions like medicine and the law (and could include cautionary tales of worst practices, in order to mollify those who see education reform as essentially a de-worming process).

If this is not acceptable, there are a couple alternative environments where the reformers could test their learning-output measurement of teacher quality, better controlling extraneous variables like family influence, giving a more precise account of each teacher’s Value Added, and rewarding (or punishing) accordingly. One is called Boarding School. The other is called Reform School.