About to be 70

July 22, 2018 / skidaz / Leave a comment

Who knew? I thought I was the female version of Peter Pan. Yet, the next time I blog I will be a septuagenerian. Believe me, in the past several months, this reality has been on my mind. Seventy has forced me to examine my life. Have I made a difference? Have I contributed to the greater good? Have I been the best mom I could. I don’t know.

Then last night I decided to take another tact; I asked myself, “What modern invention rocked me?” My grandfather, who was born in 1892, said over and over, electricity changed his life. Of course, he enjoyed the convenience of indoor plumbing too, which came later.

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In preparation for this blog, I asked my 93-year-old mother what rocked her. She struggled with her answer, describing herself as a child of war–born shortly after WWI and living through WWII. She did note she and my dad got their first television in 1950, which later morphed into a big-screen entertainment center. Microwave ovens, cellular phones, disposable diapers, and rotary lawnmowers.

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I suspect you think I will say the computer–it, indeed, rocked me. It certainly changed my life, but it was not the first thing. It was my watch. Like many, my first big-girl watch was a Minnie Mouse. Admittedly, numbers have never been my best friend, and I labored learning to tell time. My maternal grandmother frustrated me when I’d ask, “What time is it?”

“Quarter past.”

What does that mean? There’s no quarters on my watch, nor halves, nor three-quarters.

Eventually, I mastered the art of telling time, but my world was shakened when Texas Instruments introduced a digital watch in the early 70’s. Now, with a simple button press, I instantly knew it was 5:45. I didn’t have to wind it. I was in heaven! Thus, began my love affair with watches. I have designer, analog power ones, and was once gifted a Rolex. Rolex–the most over-priced, over-rated, high maintenance watch on the market.

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I’ll take my newest one any day. You know the one. The one that counts my steps, monitors my blood pressure, sends me messages and emails, allows me to answer in-coming calls, search the internet, etc. And it tells time!

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Seventy is creeping up my shorts. Got to go. Time’s a wasting.

The Name Game: Migrant Children

July 8, 2018 / skidaz / Leave a comment

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When I was in the Master’s Leadership program, the professor asked: What’s the most important thing about a person?

Though I loved this professor, I knew he was wily. Two brave students attempted an answer, only to be told they were incorrect. The professor walked to podium, cleared his throat, and we knew we were about to learn a very important lesson. Ladies and Gentleman the MOST important thing about a person is his/her name! A name that distinguishes him/her from “you,” “kid,” “son,” or “ma’am.” As an educator you must value people’s names, whether they be teachers, students, and parents. You’ll be surprised by how much they respect you. A lesson I’ve not forgotten.

Know I have the utmost respect for migrant workers and am most grateful for their service. I’m certainly not going to pick lettuce, avocados, nor apples as my career. Even at my grandparents’ farm years ago, men wandered up the lane to help with haying season and combining wheat and oats.

I am appalled at the separation of children from their migrant families. I am appalled the US government is spending millions to house these children. But I am most appalled we do not know these children’s names. Really? WTF? And now, the government is going to spend millions to identify them via DNA testing. Hmm. In this technological age, it was not considered to identify them first–through photograph, finger print, or number? These are children–some toddlers. I can’t imagine their terror.

people-id-solutions Unfortunately, this is just another example of mbsp–management by the seat of the pants. No one seems to understand the consequences of a decision until they’re faced with reality. Decisions are whimsical, often retaliatory to garner votes. Certainly, none of the recent decisions can be viewed as thoughtful. (Just wait. The tariff position is about to decimate American farmers.)

Yes, I’m a teacher. Yes, I’m a child advocate. Yes, I would gladly open my home, my extra beds, and my kitchen to six children. And yes, I would know each of them by name.

A view of inside US CBP detention facility shows children at Rio Grande Valley Centralized Processing Center in Texas

Graduation Day

May 27, 2018May 27, 2018 / skidaz / Leave a comment

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“There’s a time for joy. There’s a time for tears. A time we’ll treasure through the years. We’ll remember always graduation day.”

On Thursday night, I had the honor of addressing graduates at two of our high schools. As I surveyed the audience, I saw both tears and an abundance of joy. I spoke about several students of the class of 2018, whom had overcome insurmountable odds to receive a diploma–a Congo refugee, who had been raped and fled to America with her baby. This senior mastered English in less than six months, worked, and went to school full time and earned a scholarship to nursing school. I spoke about a special education student who was a member of the golf and the tennis team and the concert band. I spoke about a male dancer who’s a character of the video game, So You Think You Can Dance, –yes, he’s that well-known, and a guy who invented a new guitar pedal, which will revolutionize modern music.

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When I reflect on my high school graduation–over 50 years ago, I remember how special it was for the families of many of my classmates, whose parents were immigrants. I remember the fabulous graduation parties with wonderful ethnic food. And I remember the brewing war in Viet Nam. While it was a joyous time, it was also a time for fear.

Last night, my neighbor (originally from England) asked, “Sue, what’s up with all this graduation bs? In England, high school graduation was expected. University graduation was cause for a celebration.”

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Now, I could have launched into a long oration about the history of American education and the symbolic, significance of high school graduation, but I refrained. For me, high school graduation is the first educational mile marker on the road of life. Yet, I’m dismayed it has been both marginalized and commercialized by such ludicrous traditions of preschool, kindergarten, sixth grade, and eighth grade graduations. Caps and gowns, limos, and parties ad nauseam for mere children? Why?