It took me a while, but I finally realized why the term politically correct offends me so much. As an unreconstructed idealist and patriot who still maintains faith in the positive growth of human beings and our American society (silly me), I find this term to be most insidiously cynical and damaging phrase spun out of the conservative camp in the last two decades. When anyone uses the term, what they are really saying is..."I know it's morally wrong to be sexist, racist, greedy, vulgar, etc..., but I don't f*in care!" These same folks are currently upset about Happy Holidays vs. Merry Christmas. They believe torture is okay, spying on American citizens is necessary to "protect" them, and democracy can be forced down the throats of any country that has enough oil.
Well, Happy Holidays--Seasons Greetings--and Peace on Earth. If that's not politically correct enough, then f* you!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Twenty-seven in a Million
I was invited party last night to celebrate a former student's admittance into law school. This student is one I refer to endlessly when lecturing my current students about commitment and hard work. J was not the smartest kid in the class, but she didn't know that and no one could out work this young woman. She had a baby while still in the 8th grade--no one knew--not her friends, her mother, nor her teachers. ("I had sex once," she said. "Never again!") By the 10th grade, she was in my Honors American Literature class, and I had no idea that she had a baby until she came to me to get a week's worth of homework--in advance. When I asked why, she said her daughter had to have heart surgery. I almost didn't believe her.
J was never happy with any grade lower than an A, and she stayed after school as long as I would allow her in order to make corrections on her work. She rewrote papers endlessly, struggling with grammar and punctuation as many students do. Her limited vocabulary frustrated her as she tried to read Thomas Paine, Emerson, and Thoreau.
By her senior year, she elected to take AP English (despite mediocre test scores) and she gave up basketball (an outstanding player, she was being recruited by Division II teams) to concentrate on her grades. "I don't want to be the stereotype single mother," she declared. She wanted to be valdictorian--and to go to a top school.
AP Literature did not come easy to her. Much more comfortable with mathematics, she had problems with abstractions and nuance and was often frustrated when I could not give her a formula for some thematic or symbolic element in a text.
She missed valdictorin by three-tenths of a point, but got into the top school...despite unremarkable standardized test scores. She started college majoring in computer engineering, but very soon realized this was not her passion--despite a definite proclivity for math and science. She changed her major to English--much to my surprise.
After graduating with a 3.6, she was turned down by several top law schools due to average standardized test scores. Undaunted, she went to work for the NAACP, and began a Masters program in Public Administration which she completed with a 4.0. Still, her test scores did not tell the whole story, and she was denied admission to several law schools. Finally, she participated in a special week-long program designed to allow the school in question to meet her and evalute her ability to work in groups on practice cases and briefs. Of course, J emerged as a superstar and was accepted to the school.
Last night, I hugged J, her mother, and the baby--now 9 years old--and heard about other students in the class of 2000 (there were 27 of them)-one in medical school, another in graduate school, and others who have completed college in various places all over the country. I also heard about the ones with babies, but no daddies, and no degrees. You'll see their stories in the newspaper and on television; meanwhile J will march ahead, defying the sterotype with sheer will and determination.
J was never happy with any grade lower than an A, and she stayed after school as long as I would allow her in order to make corrections on her work. She rewrote papers endlessly, struggling with grammar and punctuation as many students do. Her limited vocabulary frustrated her as she tried to read Thomas Paine, Emerson, and Thoreau.
By her senior year, she elected to take AP English (despite mediocre test scores) and she gave up basketball (an outstanding player, she was being recruited by Division II teams) to concentrate on her grades. "I don't want to be the stereotype single mother," she declared. She wanted to be valdictorian--and to go to a top school.
AP Literature did not come easy to her. Much more comfortable with mathematics, she had problems with abstractions and nuance and was often frustrated when I could not give her a formula for some thematic or symbolic element in a text.
She missed valdictorin by three-tenths of a point, but got into the top school...despite unremarkable standardized test scores. She started college majoring in computer engineering, but very soon realized this was not her passion--despite a definite proclivity for math and science. She changed her major to English--much to my surprise.
After graduating with a 3.6, she was turned down by several top law schools due to average standardized test scores. Undaunted, she went to work for the NAACP, and began a Masters program in Public Administration which she completed with a 4.0. Still, her test scores did not tell the whole story, and she was denied admission to several law schools. Finally, she participated in a special week-long program designed to allow the school in question to meet her and evalute her ability to work in groups on practice cases and briefs. Of course, J emerged as a superstar and was accepted to the school.
Last night, I hugged J, her mother, and the baby--now 9 years old--and heard about other students in the class of 2000 (there were 27 of them)-one in medical school, another in graduate school, and others who have completed college in various places all over the country. I also heard about the ones with babies, but no daddies, and no degrees. You'll see their stories in the newspaper and on television; meanwhile J will march ahead, defying the sterotype with sheer will and determination.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
From SDS to AARP
Feeling a bit down during the holidays (whoops! I mean Christmas!--after all there's a war goin' on.) ? Just visit a few old folks and enjoy what remains of the the spring in your step and the hearing you still have, even after too many nights in front of the speakers at too many concerts. Attend a Christmas sing-along with people who don't care if they are off-key or that they have forgotten the words. Delight in decorations made of recycled toilet paper rolls and tin foil.
About this so-called "war" on Christmas...The only war I recognize is the one the conservative Christians are waging against working people, gay people, single parents, students, young parents, old folks and the poor. These people claim to represent Christ--but they have no interest in the "least of these..." They seem to side with folks who already have more than enough. As Joni Mitchell once wrote..."some get the gravy, some get the gristle, some get the marrow bone, and some get nothing...though there's plenty to spare."
About this so-called "war" on Christmas...The only war I recognize is the one the conservative Christians are waging against working people, gay people, single parents, students, young parents, old folks and the poor. These people claim to represent Christ--but they have no interest in the "least of these..." They seem to side with folks who already have more than enough. As Joni Mitchell once wrote..."some get the gravy, some get the gristle, some get the marrow bone, and some get nothing...though there's plenty to spare."
Thursday, December 08, 2005
The Dog Ate My Homework
As a teacher, one expects excuses, but this week has been the king dog daddy of a week for weird excuses.
"Dear Professor *, I cannot continue to attend your class due to my unfortunate situation. I had to go to court this week and it looks like I might have to go back to jail. I would like to meet with you one-on-one about my grade." Hmmmmm.
"Dear Professor *, I ran out of medication for my ADD and cannot finish my final paper. I was too embarrassed to tell you."
"Dear Professor *, I am having too much mental stress with trying to do all YOUR work (my work?--no I am quite finished with my degree--this is YOUR work!), so please extend, to me, kindly, an incomplete." Oh for the simple bygone days of misbehaving pets. . .
"Dear Professor *, I cannot continue to attend your class due to my unfortunate situation. I had to go to court this week and it looks like I might have to go back to jail. I would like to meet with you one-on-one about my grade." Hmmmmm.
"Dear Professor *, I ran out of medication for my ADD and cannot finish my final paper. I was too embarrassed to tell you."
"Dear Professor *, I am having too much mental stress with trying to do all YOUR work (my work?--no I am quite finished with my degree--this is YOUR work!), so please extend, to me, kindly, an incomplete." Oh for the simple bygone days of misbehaving pets. . .
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Cleaning House
When nothing else works, I always fall back on cleaning closets. Today, I ran across four vintage purses (not really, just old) and found all kinds of loose change and a lot of those moist towlettes, that are no longer moist, I'm sure.
Finding a home for things I no longer want makes me really happy--I gave away several bolts of vintage fabric to a decorator who could not believe I didn't want money for them. I told her that I'd call her for advice some time and she could talk to me for free.
I think people should barter more--it avoids the whole payroll tax routine--not to mention the whole "money" thing. Bake me some bread and I'll edit your next history paper. Paint my bathroom and I'll tell you how to get through writer's block. Bring me a load of firewood and I'll tutor your kids in grammar. C'mon, it could really work!
Finding a home for things I no longer want makes me really happy--I gave away several bolts of vintage fabric to a decorator who could not believe I didn't want money for them. I told her that I'd call her for advice some time and she could talk to me for free.
I think people should barter more--it avoids the whole payroll tax routine--not to mention the whole "money" thing. Bake me some bread and I'll edit your next history paper. Paint my bathroom and I'll tell you how to get through writer's block. Bring me a load of firewood and I'll tutor your kids in grammar. C'mon, it could really work!
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