Through our campsite, the pack of coyotes pushed their way around the middle and edges, lapping up anything that wasn't in animal proof boxes. Tuna, pbj sandwiches, magic markers, a purple hoodie, and everything else that had a slight taste was eaten, except for the people in tents.
I could hear the baying and then the paws and finally the munching of wild animals on loose gritty sand. I woke early that weekday morning and refused to get out of my tent--until coaxed by a colleague, another teacher, who knew well my fear. This was my first night and early morning at Joshua Tree National Park.
When I think back on that time in September of 1990, what comes to mind is how afraid I was. There it is, I said it: scared shitless. The next few days (I can't remember how long we were there, perhaps a day or two) meant searching for coyotes everywhere. While rock climbing, I thought I saw them. Bouldering up a steep, steep hill, I could swear that they were right above the next rise. Finally, scanning the wide plane, looking over 29 Palms, the US Marine Base in the distance, was I able to release the tension I felt and had been feeling since birth, maybe. I got a hint of the vastness of my small presence in the desert, in the world really, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. It was at that point that I became calm.
Only in the teeth of truly scary moments do we face what is most urgent in us. Gain ground and get perspective. Truly, it's not difficult to do, unless you live in the flatlands of some plain or prairie--perhaps even the steppes of Russia. Even then, our imagination does not fail us--in our minds' eye. Unless we are lodged in some ghetto of our own choosing, deep in the corner near the back in the belly of the beast.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
The Joshua Tree
Before teaching full time in schools, I had never been camping. I hate to admit it now, but I was afraid of being out in nature. Wild animals, predatory and opportunistic murderers, and biting, stinging insects were all that I could think of as we prepared for that first trip from the Marlborough School.
So, the experience back in 1990 of being in nature with mostly privileged pre-teen girls from LA and their teachers, me among them, as we tried to calm their fears. I'm not sure what the others got out of it, but my own fearlessness (as well as life with fear) surfaced during those years. The Rodney King beating, police trials, Northridge Quake, Hurricane Iniki, and several busted relationships ruptured my own faultlines. I have the scars to prove it.
Yet, the healing came in an arid place.
Ever since then, the desert has been that magical and special terrain. A balm in Gilead. Stark and lunar landscapes remind me of growing up in the projects, which represented a different kind of sur-reality.
This post is a kind of quick write, but I am reminded of those days when everything seemed magical and dangerous, nothing plotted out and planned. The devil tempting from his mountain throne. The wrong step either meant a rattle snake or a gunshot wound to the head.
Well, where's the learning in that? What happens in that blink moment when you realize that your life has prepared you for a particular time and place.
The learning in all of this is you never know what your life is preparing you for, really. You just need to open up your heart, get out your notebook or sketchpad, and start thinking about every sensory element that comes to mind.
I love the desert now. I spent two years living in "the meadows," which is what the native peoples called Las Vegas. Again, that's another story for another day.
Our two years, two months, and two days came to a fitting end, which is why we are back in California, overlooking the Farallon's.* I so love it on the edge of the world because finding home is always about leaving it.
*See Farallon Islands at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farallon_Islands.
So, the experience back in 1990 of being in nature with mostly privileged pre-teen girls from LA and their teachers, me among them, as we tried to calm their fears. I'm not sure what the others got out of it, but my own fearlessness (as well as life with fear) surfaced during those years. The Rodney King beating, police trials, Northridge Quake, Hurricane Iniki, and several busted relationships ruptured my own faultlines. I have the scars to prove it.
Yet, the healing came in an arid place.
Ever since then, the desert has been that magical and special terrain. A balm in Gilead. Stark and lunar landscapes remind me of growing up in the projects, which represented a different kind of sur-reality.
This post is a kind of quick write, but I am reminded of those days when everything seemed magical and dangerous, nothing plotted out and planned. The devil tempting from his mountain throne. The wrong step either meant a rattle snake or a gunshot wound to the head.
Well, where's the learning in that? What happens in that blink moment when you realize that your life has prepared you for a particular time and place.
The learning in all of this is you never know what your life is preparing you for, really. You just need to open up your heart, get out your notebook or sketchpad, and start thinking about every sensory element that comes to mind.
I love the desert now. I spent two years living in "the meadows," which is what the native peoples called Las Vegas. Again, that's another story for another day.
Our two years, two months, and two days came to a fitting end, which is why we are back in California, overlooking the Farallon's.* I so love it on the edge of the world because finding home is always about leaving it.
*See Farallon Islands at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farallon_Islands.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Just Two Words: Be Better
As we look at the shape of things to come in education, it's important to examine not only what students will need in the next fifty years or so, but what we as the adults in their lives can do to influence their positive decision-making. We know that children do know how to play and discover on their own (especially when they don't have television, ipods, and video games to anesthetize them into using fewer brain cells). Children today like those of us who are 35 years of age or older (before 1972) want to be actively engaged in their lives and in the lives of others.
Today's students may still blindly give their allegiences to celebrities and musical artists, just like we did, but they can smell deceit a mile away, particularly from adults--call it the Holden Caulfied Factor. If you don't believe me, ask them what they think about those celebs, really. I would argue that children today have a good grasp on the sincerity of the adults.
Being able to have good instincts about character issues is something that can be built and fostered. It's not just "stranger danger." It's an assortment of good, rational decisions that some times comes from making bad, irrational ones. We learn by making mistakes and trusting our gut.
Additionally, even though students are taking more and more standardized tests these days, which prepares them to be great within a facistic regime ("Calling all future Joseph Stalins"), children understand that adults are prone to errors in judgment and make just as many mistakes as they do, sometimes even more. Students even make allowances for adults making mistakes. I wished that we could do the same for each other.
This post is an appreciative one about helping to raise children who know the difference between right and wrong, despite what the television news programs might tell you. It's also about having children trust their instincts and wade through the mountains of information that we never, ever had to deal with as youngsters.
This blog, on the other hand, is a little like memoir--of the hardening concrete variety. Hopefully, I can show this in time. Memoir, as opposed to autobiography, is where you stand now, not where you hope to be. It shifts. It's real. It's funny. It's pathetic. Here is my pathetic appeal.
One bit of pathos claims we have so much more information coming our way saying our students aren't doing all that well. These are the students in the United States. Some of the statistices about teen suicide and drop-out rates would leave us to believe that children are despondent, on prozac, or worse.
What can we do as adults to help children manage their lives better?
*Well, we can listen. I mean really hear the anxiety and distrust some kids have for what they see as hypocrisy in those of us who are supposed to be leading them to be better people. We can also listen for the joy underneathe some of that anxiousness, too.
*We can guide them to think about their thinking. This is called metacritical thinking or metacognition. It's not always about what do they want to be when they grow up. Let the children in your lives know that they have a brain by asking them questions that challenge their assumptions now (in this moment) and that indicates that you know they have a thought process that can lead them to making great choices (later).
*Spend time with the children in your lives by just being present. If they see that you are always on the go, then they will think that being in constant motion is the way to be. Also, as Mel Levine says, "We ask children to spend more time with other children (i.e., in after school sports, summer camps, activities, etc.). They should be spending more time with loving and caring adults who will help them navigate their way through these tough years." Amen, brother.
*Last, but certainly not least, tell the children in your lives what you truly think about the choices you have made. Let them know that you are fallible and imperfect. It's okay to show them how you really are rather than what you'd like to be.
In conclusion, I've listed two books below that might help you to understand the kids in your life. Good luck and please know that someone is depending on you to be better.
Namaste,
Brian Thomas
Today's students may still blindly give their allegiences to celebrities and musical artists, just like we did, but they can smell deceit a mile away, particularly from adults--call it the Holden Caulfied Factor. If you don't believe me, ask them what they think about those celebs, really. I would argue that children today have a good grasp on the sincerity of the adults.
Being able to have good instincts about character issues is something that can be built and fostered. It's not just "stranger danger." It's an assortment of good, rational decisions that some times comes from making bad, irrational ones. We learn by making mistakes and trusting our gut.
Additionally, even though students are taking more and more standardized tests these days, which prepares them to be great within a facistic regime ("Calling all future Joseph Stalins"), children understand that adults are prone to errors in judgment and make just as many mistakes as they do, sometimes even more. Students even make allowances for adults making mistakes. I wished that we could do the same for each other.
This post is an appreciative one about helping to raise children who know the difference between right and wrong, despite what the television news programs might tell you. It's also about having children trust their instincts and wade through the mountains of information that we never, ever had to deal with as youngsters.
This blog, on the other hand, is a little like memoir--of the hardening concrete variety. Hopefully, I can show this in time. Memoir, as opposed to autobiography, is where you stand now, not where you hope to be. It shifts. It's real. It's funny. It's pathetic. Here is my pathetic appeal.
One bit of pathos claims we have so much more information coming our way saying our students aren't doing all that well. These are the students in the United States. Some of the statistices about teen suicide and drop-out rates would leave us to believe that children are despondent, on prozac, or worse.
What can we do as adults to help children manage their lives better?
*Well, we can listen. I mean really hear the anxiety and distrust some kids have for what they see as hypocrisy in those of us who are supposed to be leading them to be better people. We can also listen for the joy underneathe some of that anxiousness, too.
*We can guide them to think about their thinking. This is called metacritical thinking or metacognition. It's not always about what do they want to be when they grow up. Let the children in your lives know that they have a brain by asking them questions that challenge their assumptions now (in this moment) and that indicates that you know they have a thought process that can lead them to making great choices (later).
*Spend time with the children in your lives by just being present. If they see that you are always on the go, then they will think that being in constant motion is the way to be. Also, as Mel Levine says, "We ask children to spend more time with other children (i.e., in after school sports, summer camps, activities, etc.). They should be spending more time with loving and caring adults who will help them navigate their way through these tough years." Amen, brother.
*Last, but certainly not least, tell the children in your lives what you truly think about the choices you have made. Let them know that you are fallible and imperfect. It's okay to show them how you really are rather than what you'd like to be.
In conclusion, I've listed two books below that might help you to understand the kids in your life. Good luck and please know that someone is depending on you to be better.
Namaste,
Brian Thomas
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Back at It!
I wanted people to understand that I am back at my blogger's post, perched high above the Presidio and just to the left of the Golden Gate Bridge. I'll be reviewing and working on educational issues and explaining some of the circumstances around leaving the Andre Agassi College Preparatory Academy in Las Vegas. Yet, that's just a small part of the work. There's so much more out there to tell you.
The circuitous route back to the Bay Area began last fall with a phone call from an acquaintance. I was expecting to be leaving the desert at some point, but I was only a year into a five year forced march.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Do you know anyone who'd be interested in being the next Director of the Presidio Hill School?"
Questions from out of the blue are fascinating because they tell you more about yourself than statements do. As usual, I was interested in leaving. I had to be because my family was languishing. Dying a slow death of sensory overload and cultural deprivation. I was also disinterestedly interested in getting the hell out of Vegas, yet my sense of duty precluded me from leaving, as usual. More on loving Vegas in a later post.
Have you ever felt like you needed to stay in something long after the handwriting on the wall (or the slap upside the back of the head) tells you, like the house in "The Amityville Horror," to "Get out!!" As most of you know that's from one of Eddie Murphy's stand-up stand-up movies (I forget which one); I like to give credit where credit is due.
The thrust of this post is not about car wrecks along the side of the highway. I'm also not about kissing and telling (relax, Perry Rogers and Andre Agassi). The reason I'm writing this blog is to start the engine again (based on being directed by the universe to get in the car to leave).
So, "Learning By Heart" teaches what it's like to follow the impulse of the human heart. Not quite one of those blink moments exactly, but something stronger than that. Like a song you just can't get out of your head.
The nexus between education as it will be reframed and the willingness to find out about one's self is very strong. Creating learning communities that work is the aim of this blog. Forget the educational reform movement stuff. You'll find some of that here, but much more. I'm writing to inform, entertain, and preach a lttle bit, high above my historic perch. The Golden Gate was not just about letting people in. It also let some things out too. I need to keep that in mind as I try to craft something out of whole-cloth.
The current public education system was designed to keep those who have gone through it in a state of ignorance, but you knew that didn't you? Perhaps our system of education is like some of those diet pills where you feel full, but in actuality you are starving yourself to death. There I go again, breaking the fourth wall.
Someone told me last week that young African American men have discovered John Dewey. Imagine that, the father of Progressive Education being resurrected via Generation Hip-Hop. Well, Howdy-do. I get what it's about. Perhaps we'll explore Dewey and Diddy a little later.
My life is neither young but it is about discovery. Let's see what we can find together, shall we?
Respond to this post if you are a Dewey-file (not as in the card catalogue Dewey) or you just dig hearing about Open Source Learning Communities.
The circuitous route back to the Bay Area began last fall with a phone call from an acquaintance. I was expecting to be leaving the desert at some point, but I was only a year into a five year forced march.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Do you know anyone who'd be interested in being the next Director of the Presidio Hill School?"
Questions from out of the blue are fascinating because they tell you more about yourself than statements do. As usual, I was interested in leaving. I had to be because my family was languishing. Dying a slow death of sensory overload and cultural deprivation. I was also disinterestedly interested in getting the hell out of Vegas, yet my sense of duty precluded me from leaving, as usual. More on loving Vegas in a later post.
Have you ever felt like you needed to stay in something long after the handwriting on the wall (or the slap upside the back of the head) tells you, like the house in "The Amityville Horror," to "Get out!!" As most of you know that's from one of Eddie Murphy's stand-up stand-up movies (I forget which one); I like to give credit where credit is due.
The thrust of this post is not about car wrecks along the side of the highway. I'm also not about kissing and telling (relax, Perry Rogers and Andre Agassi). The reason I'm writing this blog is to start the engine again (based on being directed by the universe to get in the car to leave).
So, "Learning By Heart" teaches what it's like to follow the impulse of the human heart. Not quite one of those blink moments exactly, but something stronger than that. Like a song you just can't get out of your head.
The nexus between education as it will be reframed and the willingness to find out about one's self is very strong. Creating learning communities that work is the aim of this blog. Forget the educational reform movement stuff. You'll find some of that here, but much more. I'm writing to inform, entertain, and preach a lttle bit, high above my historic perch. The Golden Gate was not just about letting people in. It also let some things out too. I need to keep that in mind as I try to craft something out of whole-cloth.
The current public education system was designed to keep those who have gone through it in a state of ignorance, but you knew that didn't you? Perhaps our system of education is like some of those diet pills where you feel full, but in actuality you are starving yourself to death. There I go again, breaking the fourth wall.
Someone told me last week that young African American men have discovered John Dewey. Imagine that, the father of Progressive Education being resurrected via Generation Hip-Hop. Well, Howdy-do. I get what it's about. Perhaps we'll explore Dewey and Diddy a little later.
My life is neither young but it is about discovery. Let's see what we can find together, shall we?
Respond to this post if you are a Dewey-file (not as in the card catalogue Dewey) or you just dig hearing about Open Source Learning Communities.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Why I Came to the Desert and Other Lies
So, at the rate I'm going with this here blog, if I publish only around major holidays, I'll have about five or six posts a year. Yippee!! What I've decided to do in the interest of laziness and self-serving diatribes is look at some e-mails that I write over the course of the year, to unsuspecting suckers, er.. friends, and use them as posts. The piece below was an email that I wrote today to a recruiter from Texas who wanted to know what the hell I was thinking (my own emphasis) taking a job in Las Vegas when I had this "rising star" (or at least "streaking comet") career in Independent Schools. Responding with some afterthoughts, I wrote:
N-----,
As I tell people over and over, I now have the best job in America. Andre's Foundation is actively involved in creating excellence in education in areas that have been historically overlooked by local, state, and national education agencies (okay, this is where I get sort of Jesse Jackson on her. I'm surprised on my re-read here that I didn't break into rhyming couplets--"Up with dopes/down with smoke.") It's my job to build a school (minus hard cost--buildings, etc.) in Las Vegas, at or near the national average with regards to spending, and then replicate what we do all over the nation. We're definitely not there yet, but we have a few high profile individuals and Foundations looking closely at what we do--especially at testing and college placement. Our first college bound students won't be ready until 2009 so we have a little time to find the formula. However, I wake up every day with this sense of urgency like I'm trying to break some critical enemy's code that will save humanity. The sense of immediacy and urgency is what most educational institutions lose over time (I look at the last bit that I wrote and think about Robert Kennedy who's own mother, after his death, while listening to the allegations that he (RFK) had slept with Marilyn Monroe, claimed that she "found that hard to believe because he was too damned sanctimonious." So much for old Rose standing by her son. Yet, the preceeding sentence and the e-mail in general does smell of grandstanding, don't you think?) I just can't afford that luxury, which is why I made the switch out of Independent Schools. Don't get me wrong, the Independent School world has taught me much, like what great education looks like (mu-hoo-haha). Many of the folks I'm looking to hire are coming from that world or straight from the Ivy League ranks, like our partners at Teach for America.
So, couple tremendous resources that the Foundation provides (my high school and gymnasium project for which I was hired to build will cost around $18 1/2 million) and support from one of the most enduring athletes of his generation who has raised close to $100 miliion for charity, is why I say I have the best job in America (You know, the amount of money is pretty staggering, especially when you consider that the United States was only going to initially provide the countries devastated by the tsunamis last week $35 million, which is the cost of the entire school project at the end). In other words, I get to prove the premise that students of color can learn given appropriate support and resources (I mean, du-u-u-uh!).
In a nutshell that's why I'm here--at considerably less than what I would make as a Head of School in the Independent School world (I ask myself now, why is this important? Of course, feeding one's family is important, but I sound a little like Latrell Sprewell). I figure that there'll be time to make up the lost earnings on the backside of our endeavor (I'm not quite sure what the hell I mean here). At the very least, I can say that I gave it my all in the end.
Well, that's my story. I'm hoping that I'll have the opportunity to create more educational leaders who can put some of these ideas in place with a kind of Great Awakening zeal that would make Jonathan Edwards, John Dewey, and Dr. King proud.
Regards,
Brian
Alright, that did sound insincere in some parts, but I think the grandiosity chip tends to stick in spots, like leaving an IBM ThinkPad on all night and trying to reaccess the Internet again in the morning. My intention is to not sound like a Mel Torme Christmas song, but to write with some clarity and seriousness of purpose. Perhaps the acid reflux, er... afterthoughts, at the end of various sentences...help. "I need somebody./Help,/Not just anybody.../He-e-e-l-l-p." Well, you get the drift. Gotta go. A rerun of "Gigi" is playing and I can't miss it.
B
N-----,
As I tell people over and over, I now have the best job in America. Andre's Foundation is actively involved in creating excellence in education in areas that have been historically overlooked by local, state, and national education agencies (okay, this is where I get sort of Jesse Jackson on her. I'm surprised on my re-read here that I didn't break into rhyming couplets--"Up with dopes/down with smoke.") It's my job to build a school (minus hard cost--buildings, etc.) in Las Vegas, at or near the national average with regards to spending, and then replicate what we do all over the nation. We're definitely not there yet, but we have a few high profile individuals and Foundations looking closely at what we do--especially at testing and college placement. Our first college bound students won't be ready until 2009 so we have a little time to find the formula. However, I wake up every day with this sense of urgency like I'm trying to break some critical enemy's code that will save humanity. The sense of immediacy and urgency is what most educational institutions lose over time (I look at the last bit that I wrote and think about Robert Kennedy who's own mother, after his death, while listening to the allegations that he (RFK) had slept with Marilyn Monroe, claimed that she "found that hard to believe because he was too damned sanctimonious." So much for old Rose standing by her son. Yet, the preceeding sentence and the e-mail in general does smell of grandstanding, don't you think?) I just can't afford that luxury, which is why I made the switch out of Independent Schools. Don't get me wrong, the Independent School world has taught me much, like what great education looks like (mu-hoo-haha). Many of the folks I'm looking to hire are coming from that world or straight from the Ivy League ranks, like our partners at Teach for America.
So, couple tremendous resources that the Foundation provides (my high school and gymnasium project for which I was hired to build will cost around $18 1/2 million) and support from one of the most enduring athletes of his generation who has raised close to $100 miliion for charity, is why I say I have the best job in America (You know, the amount of money is pretty staggering, especially when you consider that the United States was only going to initially provide the countries devastated by the tsunamis last week $35 million, which is the cost of the entire school project at the end). In other words, I get to prove the premise that students of color can learn given appropriate support and resources (I mean, du-u-u-uh!).
In a nutshell that's why I'm here--at considerably less than what I would make as a Head of School in the Independent School world (I ask myself now, why is this important? Of course, feeding one's family is important, but I sound a little like Latrell Sprewell). I figure that there'll be time to make up the lost earnings on the backside of our endeavor (I'm not quite sure what the hell I mean here). At the very least, I can say that I gave it my all in the end.
Well, that's my story. I'm hoping that I'll have the opportunity to create more educational leaders who can put some of these ideas in place with a kind of Great Awakening zeal that would make Jonathan Edwards, John Dewey, and Dr. King proud.
Regards,
Brian
Alright, that did sound insincere in some parts, but I think the grandiosity chip tends to stick in spots, like leaving an IBM ThinkPad on all night and trying to reaccess the Internet again in the morning. My intention is to not sound like a Mel Torme Christmas song, but to write with some clarity and seriousness of purpose. Perhaps the acid reflux, er... afterthoughts, at the end of various sentences...help. "I need somebody./Help,/Not just anybody.../He-e-e-l-l-p." Well, you get the drift. Gotta go. A rerun of "Gigi" is playing and I can't miss it.
B
Friday, November 26, 2004
Bloated--The Day After (Thanksgiving) That Is
November 26th (Langston Kessler Thomas's 6th Birthday)
So, at the request of Art Leo, I'm doing the blog thing to chronicle my time at Agassi Prep. Okay, I'm not really prepared to trash anyone--hopefully you can wait for the book version of that (don't hold your breath).
The summer slid into inconsequential fall and often I think about the places that I/we left behind. Certainly Marin County seems 30 Light Years away, and Catlin Gabel is at least at the edge of this solar system. Educationally we are even further away from the pencils, paste, and purgatory of 1st Grade in Robbins, Illinois. Don't get me wrong, the projects are probably the fondest memories that I have of my life, if you can factor out the alchoholism and poverty. However, my current tenure allows me to see inequity with new eyes.
I like to tell people that I was in the first class of Head Start. I'm not quite sure if that is true or not (as if there were classes of Head Start kids marching off to Yale or Stanford), but it was a big deal when it came to our town. My step-father, an ersatz bricklayer and electrician, did one or the other to the abandoned Certified Grocery Store. New plaster and paint spackling the entry way. I don't remember much about those few months, because that was about how long we were in that building. I do remember the newness of it. Call it War on Poverty or just getting what we deserved. Mark Clarke and Fred Hampton, the Black Panthers in Chicago, were trying to do the same thing in the City, but they died in a hail of bullets thanks to the Cook County Sheriff and the FBI. We don't require that level of attention, discredited or otherwise, to put together a school here in Vegas but who knows.
The great thing about Vegas and where the school is is it's similarity to those early years growing up in Robbins, Illinois. http://www.city-data.com/city/Robbins-Illinois.html. I remember loving my school back then. Sure, Lincoln School (not named for you know who but for some other Lincoln) was old and dilapidated, but it seemed pretty substantial to me. Not some fly-by-night portable units wheeled to the site by truck or pack mules, but a large overburdened building that looked like it had been there for years and years. Lincoln Elementary, which is where my father also went to school, could boast five stories with wood floors, with three generations of African American families as pupils. In fact some of my teachers were my dad's teachers. Can that be done again? Not just a one room schoolhouse but the permanence of those school buildings where generations of teachers educate the children of the sons and daughters of the town or neighborhood. The problem of course is that those old schools, like Lincoln and Turner Elementary in Robbins, were built to look like the factories that we were supposed to take our place at once we graduated: U.S. Steel, Ford, Wyman Gordon, Alcoa, etc.
Back to the Future:
Today, we have schools that are still shaped like warehouses rather than structures that are meant to inspire and shift our thinking about what schools and schooling should be. Hell, what learning is supposed to be. Why are most schools such uninteresting looking places?
Last week one of my students, lets call her Aisha, asked me to forgive her during the Wednesday Dress Day because she did not have a tie; her mother could not afford one. I felt like I was punched in the stomach because the ties were about three bucks. But there she was, one of the smartest kids in the 5th grade with no tie, reciting the CoR over and over as she and her classmates went to the front of the multipurpose room to sign their names on a sheet that I lost, but wanted to use to track the malefactors. The point was, as I told them, "not having your dress uniform (after 15 weeks of school) was disrespectful." To be honest, I just think it is forgetful, but we are all tools of some system or other, right?
The day before yesterday, yet another Dress Day, Aisha told me, "Look Mr. Thomas, I have a tie!" How about that. Discipline and respect. All of the other kids had their ties and dress shoes, too. So much for my Progressive Educator tag. A little fear and loathing (and consistency) goes a long way. This whole idea of making something that will raise us all up may be a dream, yet I'm down for it. Having us all pretty much look alike in skin tone does make a difference.
I see this blog, "Learning By Heart," as a search for meaning as we create a school that does something that no other school is doing. Perhaps we'll do the same damned thing that every other school does. I pray not. If that is the case I pray that I be drawn and quartered, and like Mussolini, hung up in the middle of a Boulevard (West Lake Mead in this case) with piano wire. I pray that I not give in to the sameness of every other school think, as other educators in my position have done. I pray that I can keep people around me who will challenge me just as much as I challenge them. I pray that someone will draw me into their confidence and tell me what they really think. Kids do that. Parents will often do that, even if they are affected by the fuzz and static of being "advocates" for their own children. Other teachers, I pray, may or may not do that--because they are worried about losing their jobs. Not all, of course. Mr. Victor (not his real name) could care less about whether I will fire him or not. That's why he's important to keep around.
Maybe you know this already but I'm in the middle of trying to create a high school as well as run an elementary and middle school with these other folks. Since becoming Executive Director of the entire school a few weeks back, my mission is to transform American (U.S.) education by what we do. I don't have enough hubris to think that I or we can do that. When I do think about that prospect I also think about Dr. King's final speech where he says, "I may not get there with you..." I'm sure that I'll be along for at least most of the ride.
Here goes...
Namaste,
Brian
So, at the request of Art Leo, I'm doing the blog thing to chronicle my time at Agassi Prep. Okay, I'm not really prepared to trash anyone--hopefully you can wait for the book version of that (don't hold your breath).
The summer slid into inconsequential fall and often I think about the places that I/we left behind. Certainly Marin County seems 30 Light Years away, and Catlin Gabel is at least at the edge of this solar system. Educationally we are even further away from the pencils, paste, and purgatory of 1st Grade in Robbins, Illinois. Don't get me wrong, the projects are probably the fondest memories that I have of my life, if you can factor out the alchoholism and poverty. However, my current tenure allows me to see inequity with new eyes.
I like to tell people that I was in the first class of Head Start. I'm not quite sure if that is true or not (as if there were classes of Head Start kids marching off to Yale or Stanford), but it was a big deal when it came to our town. My step-father, an ersatz bricklayer and electrician, did one or the other to the abandoned Certified Grocery Store. New plaster and paint spackling the entry way. I don't remember much about those few months, because that was about how long we were in that building. I do remember the newness of it. Call it War on Poverty or just getting what we deserved. Mark Clarke and Fred Hampton, the Black Panthers in Chicago, were trying to do the same thing in the City, but they died in a hail of bullets thanks to the Cook County Sheriff and the FBI. We don't require that level of attention, discredited or otherwise, to put together a school here in Vegas but who knows.
The great thing about Vegas and where the school is is it's similarity to those early years growing up in Robbins, Illinois. http://www.city-data.com/city/Robbins-Illinois.html. I remember loving my school back then. Sure, Lincoln School (not named for you know who but for some other Lincoln) was old and dilapidated, but it seemed pretty substantial to me. Not some fly-by-night portable units wheeled to the site by truck or pack mules, but a large overburdened building that looked like it had been there for years and years. Lincoln Elementary, which is where my father also went to school, could boast five stories with wood floors, with three generations of African American families as pupils. In fact some of my teachers were my dad's teachers. Can that be done again? Not just a one room schoolhouse but the permanence of those school buildings where generations of teachers educate the children of the sons and daughters of the town or neighborhood. The problem of course is that those old schools, like Lincoln and Turner Elementary in Robbins, were built to look like the factories that we were supposed to take our place at once we graduated: U.S. Steel, Ford, Wyman Gordon, Alcoa, etc.
Back to the Future:
Today, we have schools that are still shaped like warehouses rather than structures that are meant to inspire and shift our thinking about what schools and schooling should be. Hell, what learning is supposed to be. Why are most schools such uninteresting looking places?
Last week one of my students, lets call her Aisha, asked me to forgive her during the Wednesday Dress Day because she did not have a tie; her mother could not afford one. I felt like I was punched in the stomach because the ties were about three bucks. But there she was, one of the smartest kids in the 5th grade with no tie, reciting the CoR over and over as she and her classmates went to the front of the multipurpose room to sign their names on a sheet that I lost, but wanted to use to track the malefactors. The point was, as I told them, "not having your dress uniform (after 15 weeks of school) was disrespectful." To be honest, I just think it is forgetful, but we are all tools of some system or other, right?
The day before yesterday, yet another Dress Day, Aisha told me, "Look Mr. Thomas, I have a tie!" How about that. Discipline and respect. All of the other kids had their ties and dress shoes, too. So much for my Progressive Educator tag. A little fear and loathing (and consistency) goes a long way. This whole idea of making something that will raise us all up may be a dream, yet I'm down for it. Having us all pretty much look alike in skin tone does make a difference.
I see this blog, "Learning By Heart," as a search for meaning as we create a school that does something that no other school is doing. Perhaps we'll do the same damned thing that every other school does. I pray not. If that is the case I pray that I be drawn and quartered, and like Mussolini, hung up in the middle of a Boulevard (West Lake Mead in this case) with piano wire. I pray that I not give in to the sameness of every other school think, as other educators in my position have done. I pray that I can keep people around me who will challenge me just as much as I challenge them. I pray that someone will draw me into their confidence and tell me what they really think. Kids do that. Parents will often do that, even if they are affected by the fuzz and static of being "advocates" for their own children. Other teachers, I pray, may or may not do that--because they are worried about losing their jobs. Not all, of course. Mr. Victor (not his real name) could care less about whether I will fire him or not. That's why he's important to keep around.
Maybe you know this already but I'm in the middle of trying to create a high school as well as run an elementary and middle school with these other folks. Since becoming Executive Director of the entire school a few weeks back, my mission is to transform American (U.S.) education by what we do. I don't have enough hubris to think that I or we can do that. When I do think about that prospect I also think about Dr. King's final speech where he says, "I may not get there with you..." I'm sure that I'll be along for at least most of the ride.
Here goes...
Namaste,
Brian
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