Discourse, Disagreement, and Dissent

These are NOT dirty words, but words upon which America was founded and flourished. (I know a little about that since I’m a direct descendant of Patrick Henry.)

I spent my entire fifty-year career in public education as a high school English teacher, a high school principal, a school district superintendent, a deputy associate state department school superintendent, and as an university professor. In addition, I served twenty years as a school board member in a large suburban school district. Fact. Not intended to be bragging. Just fact.

During my fifty-year career, my name was often etched in desks and scrawled on bathroom walls with obscenities. Folk repeatedly critiqued me, argued with me, and sometimes even dissented. When I was on the school board, parents, students, and teachers often confronted me in our public meetings, in the grocery store, or at a football game. My daughter’s friends vociferously objected to a parking policy I endorsed. When social media took off, I was frequently chastised by the members of the greater school community.

I’ve borne my fair brunt of criticism–perhaps deserved. Yet, in my defense, I listened. Because I listened, sometimes I changed my mind. Because I listened, I KNEW I wasn’t as smart as I thought! Because I listened, I apologized when I knew I was mistaken. Because I listened, I, not only learned a lot, but I became a better teacher, principal, superintendent, professor, and school board member. (I dare not say a better parent!)

Given the events of this last week or two, I’m astounded by the national movement of: MY WAY IS THE ONLY WAY. Or in other words: YOU’RE FIRED.

I’m Paranoid

 

 

As an 18-year veteran of the school board, the last few months have been the most challenging I’ve ever witnessed.  I experienced both student walkouts for school safety and teacher walkouts for dismal state support for its public schools.  I grew up in an era of protest–the Kent State shootings and Viet Nam War sit-ins.  I watched on TV the riots in Watts.  I’m not Pollyanna; I knew the world wasn’t perfect. I was cognizant of war, crime, and cruelty against others.

I watched in horror the TV coverage of the Twin Towers and the shooting of Gabby Giffords in a Tucson parking lot.  I wept over the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School.  Afterward, our school district remodeled all of our forty-four schools.  Now, when I drive by each of them, the buildings are fortresses.  (If Phoenix water wasn’t so pricey, moats would have been added). Our front office entries are bullet-proof glass, and like the movie theater, I speak into a microphone and slide my ID through the little drawer for the secretary to peruse before I’m admitted.  I’ve undergone background checks and carry a fingerprint card.

Yet, in spite of all these school safety measures, school shootings continue.  Believe me, I’ve bent my head in prayer since Sandy Hook–my only weapon.  Thoughts and prayers are of NO use to dead children and school staff members; they’ve already met Jesus.

I am paranoid of what’s to become of us.  We live in an America rife with bullying, hate, anger, and powerful lobbies which control our legislators.  Each week we lose more of our most precious asset–our youth to senseless violence. Our children are counting on us to resolve this madness.

Hey There, You’re a Rock Star

 

FreeVector-Rock-StarsYears ago, I co-taught Sunday school with another church member, and one Sunday she said, “Sue, I’m tired of my nomadic life on the road.”  I knew she traveled several times a month leaving both her husband and children to fend for themselves.  But she was making mega bucks.  “You know I have a teaching degree I’ve never used.”

No, I didn’t know it.  “If you think you want to teach, I can arrange a interview with our HR assistant superintendent.  You realize you’ll never make the same amount of money you make now.”

“Of course.  There’s more important things than making loads of money.  I need to be with my family, and I want to make a difference in the lives of kids.”

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“Deb, teaching is the most important profession in the world, for without a teacher there can be no nurse, no attorney, and no plumber.  I’ve observed you; you will be fabulous.”

Deb was hired as a teacher in a Title I elementary school and earlier this week emailed me:  I’m so proud to work for such a supportive governing board and superintendent.  You’re rock stars.

Rock stars?  The true rock stars are you and your fellow teachers.  You who are paid $35-40,000 per year to educate our future.  You who collect warm clothing for children in need.  You who tutor children at risk.  You who work tirelessly day after day to ensure each child maximizes his/her potential.

Curiously, I’ve never swooned over The Beatles, Smash Mouth, nor Justin Timberlake.  Yet, I’ve been euphoric when I witnessed the myriad of student accomplishments made possible by caring and dedicated teachers.  So unless Bruce Springsteen wants to run away with me, teachers will be my #1 rock stars!

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#%*+!

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Believe me, I can talk like a sailor, but I was raised with decorum.  I knew people didn’t smoke cigarettes in church, spit in hallways, nor kick puppies.  I also knew there was a time and place when it was not appropriate to use expletives.

In my 18 years on the school board of a large, suburban school district, I never swore from the dais.  I may have thought it, but I didn’t verbalize it.  I knew better.  Further, I didn’t want teachers cussing at students.  Thus, I set an example.  However once, in front of my mom, I accidentally dropped the f bomb.  She heard it fly from my mouth.

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“Sue, when people use gutter talk, it’s the sign of a severely limited vocabulary.  Not to mention a lack of decorum and civility.  Your hero, Mark Twain, was a genius at penning classics without swearing.  We readers fully understood what Huck Finn was really saying, but Mrs. Samuel Clemens edited the base vernacular from his manuscript.”

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Hmm.  Mark Twain was a genius–a stable one.

Twenty-six Candles: December 14th

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Reprise:  I wrote this blog two years ago, and nothing has changed.  Massacres continue.  Congress okays folks’ right to carry concealed weapons.  As I complete my 17-year-tenure on the school board, every night I pray a Columbine, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, or a Las Vegas slaughter, doesn’t occur in my district.

I’m weary of the Second Amendment argument.  Really?  Obviously, many have no understanding of US History.  A single musket, fire and re-load, as compared to a semi-assault rifle with a bump stock?  No comparison.  Reread a part of my blog and weep for all of the innocents lost since 2012.

“Like many of you, I’m sure you’ve almost or already completed your holiday shopping.  Thanks to the convenience of online shopping in jammies, the wish list of children and grandchildren has been answered.  The presents are wrapped in whimsical paper and sparkling bows for tomorrow’s mail.  December 14th.

Tomorrow evil strikes! Twenty children and six, valiant school employees will never see a new bicycle, and iPad, nor the must-have, limited-quantity, hottest gift of 2012.  The gift you stood in line to buy at 6:00AM on Black Friday or assembled for three hours.”

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Imagine the anguish of families who planned funerals amidst the holiday gifts they’d never see their children open.  Every time I think about the horror of Sandy Hook Elementary School I gag.

As I said in my original blog, President Reagan changed his stance on gun control after his attempted assassination and the serious wounding of Jim Brady, i.e. the Brady Bill.   We must advance conversation and legislation about access to assault weapons, bump stocks, and rigorous background checks, prior to gun purchase. We must address mental health care in our country.

Yes, I know.  Nothing is going to change.  The fire of hate is fanned by those in DC and the nut case who says Sandy Hook didn’t happen.  I get it; I’ve but one vote.  Yet on December 14th, I will light 26 candles.  Will you?

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