Fall on Campus

If you ever want to feel young and frisky again, just take a walk in the fall across a Midwestern college campus. Strolling among the students, cutting between the Engineering Building and a funky diner, and warming in the autumnal sun--there is no better elixer. But the students appear tired, and they seem uncommonly burdened with their backpacks--distracted by the cell phones glued to their ears. I feel a little silly carrying my 30-year old leather satchel--which actually used to be diaper bag--and breathing in the cool air while admiring the architectural details of the oldest building on campus. They have no idea where they are in the scheme of things, I think. They have no idea how absolutely precious this time is. They have no idea...

Let's Hear it for the Boys!

After 7 years of teaching girls exclusively, I'm finding my young male students to be surprisingly well mannered and cooperative. I'm not sure what I expected--maybe hands on hips, eyes rolling--I got used to being challenged, almost comically so, by my young female students. Now, all I have to do is pat my head and these young men remove their hats; I tug on my ear, and they speak up so I can hear. If I put a finger to my lips, they stop the chatter. If I chide them for being tardy, they apologize! They willingly revise poorly edited papers--and eagerly listen to my advice.

Perhaps we've had an alien invasion here in Detroit--or just a lot of young men raised by high spirited, strong-talking women have entered college. I wish the images of these young men were as prominent in the media as those of the foul-mouthed thugs they listen to on their I-pods. They are learning to read and write at a college level and hopefully to dream the dreams that will take their lives in new directions.

Trust the Process

As a writing teacher, I often tell my students to just "trust the process." Whenever I assign a challenging essay, they trip over themselves with trivial questions which reveal their fears as well as their intense preoccupation with the end result, and of course, grades. I want them, instead, to immerse themselves in the joy of inquiry and the exhilaration of creative work. I want them to discover their voices. . . they want to know when it will all be over. "Am I done, yet?" When I sit down every day to write this blog, I don't know what will happen. Some days, I'm burning with an issue that has gotten under my skin, and other days I simply agree to discipline myself. I try to "trust the process." Some days the words flow so fast that my fingers can't keep up and other days, each line is a struggle. I guess I should be teaching them to love the struggle.

Go to Operation Eden

I was sent a link to http://operationeden.blogspot.com/ and it is amazing. The photography is outstanding and the writing is moving, too.

Did You Get the Message????

I went to the funeral of a former student today in a very modest storefront church on the east side of Detroit--a neighborhood that needs more than God and gospel. The atmosphere was so different than at white folks funerals--kids ran around in t-shirts emblazoned with the picture of the deceased on the front and the music, save the lyrics, would have been great to dance to. People got up and spoke as the spirit moved them and told tales about Katrina, and there was laughter and poetry and tears. I saw many of my former students, grown up, some with babies in arms. As we wandered outside, I hugged them each and said, "Did you get the message?" They looked at me curiously. "What message?"

Katrina was shot because she was in an after hours club--a place she had no business being with too many desperate people with nothing to lose. This community just accepts that violence and early deaths are a natural part of life. But we failed her--we all failed to pull hard enough to jerk her back from the brink. I saw too much celebration today and not enough anger. . .

Brownie's Revenge

It's clear Michael Brown, former FEMA director and expert in Arabian horses, has adopted some of the Bush administration's attitudes about responsibility. Last week, during the hearings about Katrina, he was diffident, hostile and unrepentant, shifting blame while claiming to not be pointing fingers. His only error?? Not realizing how dumb everyone else was! Since this attitude has worked before for the Republicans, I'm sure he was well coached in standing up to the cross examination. We saw this again yesterday with Tom Delay. Is there some secret school they all go to to learn how to be simultaneously hypocritical and morally outraged? The Rush Limbaugh Academy of Conservatism? I long for the days when the president was only hiding a couple of blow jobs and an intelligent and ambitious wife.

A Million Readers?

I just read that a blogger from a local suburb enjoys so many hits on his blog that he's going to make his entire living off of it. He used to teach. That says it all! His blog concerns the antics of such superstars as Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, et. al. People are so caught up in the vicarious thrill of the lives of super skinny airheads, that a former teacher can retire. Perhaps if I launched a Nicole Richie for President website, I could pay my heating bill this winter.

What's Goin' On?

Over the weekend, I heard a story on the local TV news about a shooting at an after-hours club on the east side of the city. During an argument, someone pulled out an AK-47. The hair on the back of neck stood up, and an involuntary shiver went down my spine when the announcer said a 21-year old young woman had been fatally wounded. I thought to myself, "she could be one of my students."

The next day, I received an email confirming that, indeed, a former student of mine had been shot and died subsequently at a local hospital. I wish I could say that I was shocked and surprised by this, but I was not. She was a smart girl who made really stupid decisions.

She graduated in 2002, I believe, but at any other school, she would have dropped out or been kicked out first. Our little school embraced her quirky sense of humor, her wild "coming apart at the seams" appearance; and we all recognized that underneath the "street-wise" veneer lay a certain innate and gentle intelligence. When she came to class, she could perform like any top student--she was engaged; nothing was too difficult for her, and she asked the right questions. At other times, she slept in the back, came late or didn't come to class at all.

She leaves a 10-month old son--I don't know about the father--but I can guess. What becomes of a baby whose mother is shot and killed in this way? I don't need much imagination, knowing what I know of his mother's life.

Someday in the future, during an after-hours party fueled by drugs and booze and attended by thugs with street names like "D-Man" and "Double C,"an AK-47 will appear. Here we go again.

Back That Thang Up

We went to a wonderful wedding celebration just last weekend, and it was a joy to participate in an event that is such a damn leap of faith! Just when I think we're at the gates of hell climbing out of our collective handbasket, someone or something reminds me that life just goes on. People meet, fall in love, believe it will be forever, and decide to celebrate in grand style. The church was breathtaking--a hexagonal cathedral in perhaps the worst part of Detroit--but just the right place. The bride looked like Grace Kelly and my daughter, the rogue bridesmaid, wore a stunning black Vera Wang gown and cleared the dance floor with her handsome escort. When they announced the hustle, I was proud to hear her say--"don't worry, watch my Mom, she knows how to do it." Those years of teaching in the city paid off when it came to shaking that money maker.

Refugees from Third World USA

Someone in the media mistakenly called the evacuees from Hurricane Katrina "refugees," and they were very quickly reprimanded by the language police. But after some consideration, I've determined that many of these folks are indeed refugees--from third world USA--a place many other, more successful Americans, have not had much contact with before this tragic event.

The human and material costs emerging here are astronomical--and should remind us how expensive it is to ignore the problems of poverty and discrimination in our country. If a baby is unlucky enough to be born into a poor family in this century, he can expect to live in unsafe housing, to be exposed to all manner of environmental pollutants, to enjoy little if any medical attention, let alone basic coverage, and then to receive a substandard education. He can also be expected to be blamed for all of this once he's old enough.

America needs to wake up -- we can and should be a better country. Authentic patriotism stems from the unshakable belief that we can and shall live up to all our ideals and that they will be made manifest in our citizens and our communities. (cue John Phillip Souza!)

Compassionate Conservatives on Vacation or Give a Man a Fish???

What can I say that hasn't already been said?

Read It and Weep!

Yesterday, after a reading class I teach at a local university, I found one of my newest students waiting for me in the parking lot. She asked if I could help her find a way to teach a 16-year-old high school boy how to read. I was almost speechless! Apparently, he found out she was going to college, even though she had scored so low on reading that my course is required. He revealed to her that he does not know how to read and asked for her help. Indicating that she is the first person he has told, he said he was very embarrassed and didn't want any of his friends to know.

I had no idea what to tell her! Local literacy programs exist for adults, but this student is surrounded by teachers -- they just don't know his secret. I told her to give me a week to do a little checking around, but meanwhile, I suggested, "tell him that if he's fooled everyone around him, he must not be too stupid!"

After teaching English here for so long, it is difficult for me to imagine how a teacher couldn't know if one of his or her students could not read. Shameful! Yet, I know how impossible it can be to manage six classes a day of forty kids each, day after day. The cracks are too big--and we are often too tired to keep putting our fingers in the dike.

I'm going to try to find out if there are materials she could use to help him. Maybe someday, she'll look back and tell the story of how she decided to become a teacher. Wouldn't that be something?

"Storms Don't Kill People--Public Policy Kills People!"

It's interesting that the very same politicians who offer "personal responsibility" as the answer to all societal problems are spinning around this issue and trying to avoid the "blame game." Well, the last time I checked, the game was over and New Orleans lost, and there are bodies lying bloated on the field.

So, I'm not going to "blame" anyone--I'll just say that "Storms Don't Kill People--Public Policy Kills People!" Anyone want to buy a t-shirt?

Katrina, as a natural disaster, is being blamed for all the devastation, but it looks like much of her destruction could have been mitigated if public policy had been informed by unbiased scientific analysis (meaning not forced into shape by corporate and self-interest) . Two larger issues loom in the background here beneath all the spinning--environmental policy, specifically wetlands) and federal funding of critical infrastructure projects to address homeland security issues.

Let's see if the media chooses to examine those issues rather than the compelling and emotional family reunions. I'm guessing a three-hour special on the wetlands is NOT in the works at CNN right now.

Masters of War

Bob Dylan's lyrics from the 1960's are more relevant today than ever--but so what? While searching for an original way to engage my students in the task of raising their reading comprehension scores to the college level, I did a lyric search and found songs from Tupac and Kayne West. I also copied lyrics from Sinatra's Birth of the Blues and, of course, the lyrics from Masters of War. Profound ideas come a wide variety of packages--diverse voices converge into uncomfortable truths. "Kept my history of mystery but now I see/The American Dream wasn't meant for me." To the Masters of War Dylan says: "You fasten the triggers/For the others to fire/Then you set back and watch/When the death count gets higher/You hide in your mansion/As young people's blood/Flows out of their bodies/And is buried in the mud."

In the wake of Katrina, I hope we can all reexamine the sometimes empty promises of our democracy and begin the address the dangerous, widening gap between rich and poor in our country. The citizens of New Orleans reverted to "looting" because they had nothing to lose! I don't make false distinctions between "good" and "bad" looting--(oh how the inadequacies of moral absolutism are revealed in the face of such a staggering disaster!) A VCR or microwave? "Oh, how decadent and opportunistic!" Well, anything that can be turned into cash is fair game when you are trying to survive.

I can't get this disturbing dream out of my head--I'm in a lifeboat that is sinking and I am given orders to make sure no one else boards--We solemnly peel off the fingers of the drowning and release their bodies into the vast black water surrounding us.

Our Collective Conscience

When I look at the images of the suffering, death and complete devastation of hurricane Katrina, I'm compelled to ask what role, if any, public policy played in the massive suffering of New Orleans victims. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots from energy policy which favors global corporations while ignoring global warming and the need to protect wetlands, foreign policy driven by the "need" to control the natural resources of others, federal budget deficits driven by an ill-conceived war and a huge tax give away. Democracy's got no clothes!

What is the role of the government? Fox News pundit, Bill O'Reilly is already spinning the ..."see what happens when you trust the government...?" as if citizens have no right to expect anything from their government. Compassionate conservatism, indeed! We should be better than that. In America, our government should be our collective conscience. The federal budget should reflect our concern with equality and social justice--and not simply pork barrel projects designed to keep the powerful in power. We could be the greatest country on earth if we could stop the flag-waving and the posing and get down to the business of building a better society. But the people in power "hate" government--they want to privitize everything--that way you can pick and choose who you think is really "worthy" of your charity--and write it all off while you're at it.

How do you like smaller government, now?

Since our government has been taken over by those who "hate" government and want it to shrink, we now see a complete erosion of any commitment to infrastructure, community or the public good. The rich live in gated communities with private security forces, private pools, privatized power (generators), bottled water and endless food supplies, while the poor are floating on broken doors down the sewered streets of New Orleans. Why? Follow the money . . . money that should have been spent shoring up the levees. Who cut it off and why? Just guess!

It is clear that many of our leaders can't imagine people without the resources to evacuate. Where have they been? For many of the homeless and poor people who survive Katrina, this storm could actually be the best thing that ever happened to them. They might actually be able to gain some ground. As long as they slept in alleys and pushed shopping carts, no one cared.

The outpouring of sympathy for the "suddenly" impoverished always confuses me. When people lose everything all at once, we turn on the cameras and can't get enough of the images of suffering. However, when people are regularly victimized by systemic poverty, we quickly look away and change the subject.

I hope people begin to realize that it is a priviledge to be able to ignore politics--it means you have the resources to sheild yourself from injustice. Maybe $5.00 a gallon gas will wake you up.

Through a Teacher's Eyes

I became a teacher because I had a teacher--a really great teacher! She came along at exactly the time that I had no idea who or what I was to become, and a nasty high school environment had managed to rebuff my edginess and my originality. She celebrated me! She got me! In her eyes, I was beautiful, not awkward, not too tall, and not too red-haired and freckled. I was brilliant, even though my grade point average reported nothing to write home about...and I wasn't in the Latin IV class, or in Honors English Literature with all the girls who were Eastern girl school bound. She appreciated my creativity and my iconoclastic humor, and in doing so, she persuaded me to see myself in a light that was certainly more positive.

Years later, one of my best and most-loved students spoke at the graduation exercises at the high school where I had been teaching for seven years. She said that the main thing about me, as a teacher, was that I helped students to see themselves not as they were, but as they could be. I helped them see themselves through my eyes--my adoring eyes. Jayne was right--I did adore them...they were emotionally open, sassy, opinionated, brilliant, silly, serious, faithful and true. And they needed me to love them. And I did. And I do.

Wolverine Poem

Still we see our brittle truths
Of conflict, fear and power
All across our land—and
The truths of possibility

Imagine glass and concrete
City landscapes—
Each rough line prolonging itself
Straight off into the gray horizon’s edge

Or a small log cabin tucked beside the
Sturgeon River—its twisting song
Rolls through clinging cedars and
Vigilant pines—spilling its coppered water turmoil
Into the mirrored blue of Burt Lake

When the quieted village seems asleep
Heavy—full of forgotten songs and dull dances,
Poems are read aloud to the stars
An offering by a woman who came again
To learn how to live
Whispering the truths of her own possibility.

Evangelical Christian Terrorists

Pat Robertson finally gets it! After years of publicly denying any empathy for terrorists, he stepped into a giant pile of hypocrisy. He's so frustrated with Chavez that he wants him "taken out!" Gee--that's real Christian of him. If only he were willing to strap on a few sticks of dynamite and blow himself up in front of the Venezuelan embassy...

Mad Hot Ballroom--or All We Need is Dance Lessons

I saw the acclaimed documentary film Mad Hot Ballroom this weekend and I loved it--who couldn't love those adorable little ethnically diverse kids and their wonderful teachers? But something in the back of my brain kept nagging at me--and after a while, I began to see that this kind of story, as uplifting (not my word) as it is, masks the real problems. It says to us: look how easily we can solve the problems of poverty, drug abuse and single or absentee parents! It matters not that our so-called "safety net" has holes big enough to drive a M-1 tank through; and the bottom rungs of the ladder to the American Dream have been cleverly sawed off by the Bush Administration's tax gifts to the wealthy. Not to worry! A concentrated series of dance lessons and a city-wide competition and it all goes away! This documentary, for all it's hopeful moments, fails to examine the systemic stranglehold of poverty and the third rate school systems that our urban areas have to tolerate because we refuse to examine the unjust method of funding through property tax. I noted this as I read about my own suburban high school adding a new swimming pool this summer while the roofs of Detroit's school leak onto 25-year-old desks. The movie I want to see would follow these same dancing kids through high school. I don't imagine my Republican friends would recommend such a movie so enthusiastically. Don't get me started.

We the People

What Was She Wearing??

The first question a right-wing conservative will ask when told about a rape on a deserted street, late at night is, "What the hell was she doing there at that time?" Moreover, if the woman was wearing a mini-skirt and a thong, she must have been "asking for it." Yet, these same folks become apoplectic if anyone even hints that the US might possibly be doing something (oh, I don't know...occupying their country???) to provoke terrorism. They refuse to examine the question at all and will persistently overtalk anyone who wonders aloud about the wisdom of our current situation.

As a Peace Movement veteran, I have been spit at, shouted at, called names, threatened, and nearly run over for suggesting that peaceful solutions can be found for all problems, big and small, domestic as well as global. Okay, so I give up. The next right-winger who so much as raises an eyebrow at me risks a massive head injury. Are you happy now?

Pretty Disturbing????

Just south of the Baghdad airport, a bomb exploded recently, flipping the 25-ton amphibious assault vehicle which was transporting soldiers at the time. "'This was a catastrophic event,' said Sgt. Jason Knapp, an Air Force bomb technician who arrived at the scene of the multiple attacks the next morning. He found a foot from one of the American soldiers in the shallow water of a nearby canal. 'It was pretty disturbing," he said." Pretty disturbing????

When do we begin to understand that traditional military solutions will not work in the post-modern arena? When do Americans begin to listen to leaders who speak the truth about this atrocity instead of the pre-programmed talking points meant to reinforce the distortions and lies in which our current administration has invested so heavily? When do we finally realize that this war is not about anybody's freedom, our or theirs--it is about access to natural resources, both oil and water, and the building of permanent military bases to secure these resources for the use of our global corporate robber barons. And Americans have been manipulated by fear into supporting it.

As a resident of a city struggling to maintain its fragile and aging infrastructure in the face of capital flight and unrestricted sprawl, I'm wondering if an Al Queda training camp, just south of 8 Mile Road, might be a better strategy than all the swearing, wishing and hoping we do around here. Either that, or a new mayor.

I think I'll go lay or lie down...

Whenever I have a stack of papers to grade, a pile of laundry, a long list of gardening chores, a room to paint, or a sink full of pantyhose, I look for something else to do. Blogging may be the answer. Or not. If this, too, becomes work, I'm not sure I want to try to do it every day. Then again, I always tell my students to respect the process and trust the process. So, respect and trust, it is. I've not been successful at exercising daily, so maybe writing might work--not as a way to lose weight--but as a way to keep from talking to myself. The older I get, the more I enjoy myself as a conversational companion--so agreeable, so insightful, so funny! I really get me! So I think as bloggers, we simply want others to get us--it is a way of sharing that offers few, if any risks. And, its either a great way to procrastinate, or another task to put off. I think I'll go rest now.