Letter From A Student

Below is a paraphrase of an actual letter sent to a friend of mine.  This student attends a very expensive four year college.

Dear Professor:
I am writing to you today to let you know I will not be taking the final exam tomorrow.  As you know, I haven't been in class more than three times this semester, but this has not been my fault.  You requested medical documentation and I gave my doctor permission to talk to you.  Please call him at 516 -XXX-XXXX.  I would have been ready for the final if you e-mailed me the chapters I had to study.  As for the homework I owe you, they have been scanned and are attached.  I know they were due the last day of class, but that is too bad.  There are only 12 attached so it should not be a problem for you to download them and then mark them all.

Let me know when I can take this exam and what I should study. I don't know what I did with the syllabus you handed out and since I haven't been in class, I don't know what has been covered.   Please don't schedule it before 10:00 AM or after 2:00 PM.  Also, Mondays and Fridays are not good days for me.
Thank you.  I plan on applying to medical school and really need an A in this class.  My dean will be speaking to you.

Sincerely yours,


Biggest Loser in College Today

(Pictured above it the Yeti from Sak's holiday window.) 

Central Park Arsenal

On one of my annual trips to see the mangificent store windows, I read about an exhibit of home made wreaths in the Central Park Arsenal.  I didn't even know this place existed, so I had to go and see.

The Arsenal is a magnificent old building which now houses offices and an art gallery.  If you have a chance, go check it out, you won't be sorry.

More pictures here, on Facebook.  (More window pictures in a few days)

Effective Teaching

Last Tuesday was rate your professor night at the college.  As I handed out forms, I told my students to be honest and offer constructive comments on the form.  The administration looks at them and uses them when it comes to rehiring adjuncts and to advancing careers.  The school doesn't give grades away, but it is, and always has been, students first and if a teacher continually gets all negative comments that teacher is checked out.

I know most of my students like me.  I can tell by attendance, by their work habits and by their questions and by the relaxed and happy manner in the classroom.  There are always students lingering after class, happily walking me to my car, chatting all the way.

Last Tuesday, as I left, a quiet young man stayed behind.  He said he told his friend to take my class next term.  His reason, "she doesn't let you leave until you understand perfectly." This comment made my night.  No Danielson is needed to tell me I am effective.

A Product Of Bloomberg Education

Four exams were given.

 

Talia scored less than 40 on the two she took.  Two she missed and requested a makeup on one.  The request was made after the exam was returned so it was easy to say no.  She has handed in three homework assignments,both late.

Talia believes she can pass the class.  She attends college on Fantasy Island.  Talia is a recent NYC graduate, part of the legacy Bloomberg is so proud of.

Heart--An Important Ingredient For Success

I spent Thanksgiving in heaven, in the ME Hotel in Cancun.  I call the place because anything and everything is done to make the guests happy.  Okay, they could have done a little better with the weather (a little more sun but no rain) but it did not rain so I guess they did fine.  No one got painful sunburns.  The property and the rooms were beautiful.  The food and the drinks were plentiful, never ending and really good.  But, lots of hotels can boast of the same things.  The thing that makes ME really special is the staff.  These wonderful people make everyone feel like a guest in a home rather than a customer in a resort.  Every request is filled promptly, some even before the words come out.  Always there is a smile.  Everyone, gardeners, maintenance staff, maids, waiters, concierge and management do everything humanly possible to make the stay a delight.

Jonathan, one of the managers told us the staff is hired because of heart.  Anyone can learn to fix a toilet or make a drink but heart is something a person must be born with.

AnHeart is something teachers are born with too.  Any college grad should be able to master the material taught in an elementary, middle or high school, but teaching is so much more than that.  When I look back at cards and letters I have received, when I run into former students and their parents, I know I made a difference in countless lives.  They might not remember a test score or the quadratic equation, but they will remember how they felt about themselves in my class and how they mastered material they didn't think they could learn.

Today's teachers don't have time for heart.  They are too worried about test scores and statistics. Heart is not a measurable statistic.  It has no place in the classroom today.

More pictures here, on Facebook.

November 29, 1980

Thirty three years ago today, I got the best gift in the world-my beautiful and brilliant daughter.  I also met a wonderful friend who delivered the same day.  I am blessed to have them all in my life.

Six Principals

Principal One never left her office on the first floor.  No one ever saw her do anything and, as new teachers, we all wondered what purpose, if any she served.  I was in the school with her 7 years and never spoke a single word to her, and maybe saw her 5 times in total.  She never even ran faculty conferences.

I only worked with Principal Two a few months.  He was a jovial guy who got along great with teachers.  In fact, he worked with the union rep to try to get rid of an awful AP.  The only contact I had with him was when I needed his permission to transfer and he refused to give it.  (I was caught in a political struggle between him and the awful AP.)

Principal Three was a very bright man who loved to hang out with tough boys from south Queens.  He walked the halls constantly and all the kids knew him well.  While I wasn't a fan, I respected his intelligence and cringed when he observed because I knew he knew a good lesson and a good teacher when he saw one.  One of the problems with him was the blatant favoritism he showed some of the staff.

Principal Four barely left her office.  I, along with others, believed she spent her days searching for another job.  She swore she would be there forever but as soon as she got an offer, she left.

Principal Five ran the school like he ran the summer camps he was in charge of.  He wanted all the classrooms set up in a horse shoe as that was the current trend.  He played annoying music between classes and loved the sound of his own voice over the PA system.  He loved being the center of attention so much he even made us sit through pictures of his summer vacation during a faculty conference.  He hated any kind of criticism and expected everyone to be subservient to him.

From reading this, you can imagine I didn't have any great expectations from Principal Six.  I figured he would either be another pompous ass full of ideas that were not educationally sound, someone who became an administrator because he didn't want to be in the classroom or someone who hid out in his office in front of the big screen television all day.

The first time I saw Principal Six he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and I believe I wrote he was so young he still had his mother's milk on his breath.  Imagine my embarrassment when he came up to me and asked if I was taking pictures for my blog.  He had been reading it for quite a while.  So now, he knew me and knew the disdain I had for administrators.  Over the years, I gradually started talking to him and came to respect some of his decisions.  Believe me, there were many I didn't agree with and I let him know.  I found he was someone I could talk to.  He even helped me deal with Mr. AP (although he did nothing lasting and I am still pissed at a grievance he denied.)

Principal Six has moved on to a new job.  He hopes to be able to make education better for kids today.  I wish him well, not only for him, but for the kids of NYC.

Staying Away

After many years of work, several of the dogs decided to retire.  They were tired.  They had worked their tails off for too many years.  At first they didn't mind.  They knew the work they were doing benefited many young pups and because of this work many went on to lead successful, productive lives.  The last few years were very stressful.  Somehow a chihuahua was put in charge, a snappy little know nothing animal who was closer to a rat than a canine.  The chihuahua yapped orders and made decisions that not only helped no one but hurt the pups she was in charge of.

Most of the dogs in the group were sad to see these colleagues leave.  They were a valuable group that could not easily be replaced.  The dogs decided to throw a party to honor the retirees.  The party was announced weeks in advance so everyone would be able to free their calendar and attend.  Several days before the party the chihuahua announced she could not attend.  Everyone believed chihuahua stayed away because she is not nice.  She does not like the retirees and is greatly intimidated by their intelligence.  Many thought her non attendance was deliberate. It was definitely a sign of disrespect, especially since their hard work is what got her to keep her job.

Chihuahua's Lesson

It is June.  The pups must pass a paper training test in order to move on.  One little guy continually fails.  He just can't remember to go where he is supposed to go and he wets and defecates all over the place.  The chihuahua is not happy about this as the failing pup will hurt her statistics and keep her from moving ahead in the world.  But, chihuahua is not overly concerned.  She knows the little guy will have a chance to repeat the test in August.  

The little guy tries to master his paper training, but he just can't succeed.  In truth, he doesn't work that hard at it as he is easily distracted.  The chihuahua is not concerned.  She has found a way to get him to pass.  She has found a proctor who will put the little guy on his wee wee pad, sprinkle it with some urine and excrement and then quickly whisk him away, far away so he has no time to mess anywhere else.  The powers that be will be happy.  The little guy will pass.  He will now go out into the world and shit on anyone and everyone.

Mix It Up

When I first started teaching, I taught the bottom levels.  I taught kids who couldn't make change and couldn't count past 100.  I found ways to engage them and break the math into steps they could understand. I didn't succeed with all, but I know many made progress.

After many years, I moved up in the world of education.  I gradually got to teach classes that were on track and even spent many years teaching AP calculus.  My years of teaching the lowest level helped me reach the brightest kids.  My years of teaching remediation had taught me that what was obvious to me was not obvious to them.  What interested me did not interest them.  I learned to break down difficult material for advanced students the same way I did for my strugglers.

While teaching advanced classes, I still had repeaters and slow learners in my other classes.  Teaching the top helped me raise the level I taught these difficult kids, the kids who repeatedly failed and who did not care for math or any school subjects. They needed to be taught on a level that showed I respected their intelligence and their ability to learn.

To be a good teacher one must teach all levels at some point in her career and should even go back and teach courses out of the norm to keep the brain alive and productive.  A good teacher must realize that there are students with many different learning levels. A teacher who never teaches an honor class might start to believe a mediocre student is brilliant while a teacher who only teaches the top might not have enough respect for the poor child who struggles with calculus.

Most teachers have 5 classes in a NYC high school.  Although I often had classes that were a challenge, I am glad I had them.  These classes made me a better teacher for the advanced classes.  The advanced classes motivated me to find higher levels to reach everyone.  Everyone should teach a mix.

Just In Time For The Holidays

Just in time for the holidays, a major toy company announced a brand new video game:

BECOME AN AWARD WINNING SCHOOL ADMINISTRATOR

The goal of the game is to graduate as many students as possible.  The quality of education or the caliber of the graduates is inconsequential.  Numbers are all that count.  At the end of the game, the administrator with the best statistics will be given a pat on the bag, receive a bonus check for $10,000 and be Time Magazine's person of the year, complete with picture on the cover.

The player will assume the persona of a 30 something year old  teacher who has taken a few weekend and online courses and is now running a department in a public high school.  The teacher has barely taught any subject and may never have taught the subject he or she is supervising.  The qualifications for this job are  an ability to turn on a computer and type.  Having a heart and a brain is discouraged.  Having a nasty and mean streak is required.  Players can choose avatars with names like Ms. Nasty Pants, Mr. You All Suck, Mrs. I've Got Balls and Dr. I Am Going To Destroy You All.

The player will be given an office, a computer, an I-pad and a pair of sneakers to roam the halls of their schools to search out the teachers who will be most willing to go along with their unscrupulous plans.  The teacher must be willing to forgo any ideals about providing real educations and be willing to falsify credits, complete assignments for their students, supply answers to standardized tests while the tests are being taken and to change answers if necessary during the exam and while it is being graded.  The teacher must also sign a blood oath to never reveal doing this.  They must also squeal on any teacher who insists on doing the old fashion thing called teaching.

Special bonus points are given to players who assume the persona of special education administrators.  The job here will be to take students, some of whom have IQ's of 70 or less and convince the world they have passed regents exams and have earned high school diplomas.  To take this position, you must think and act like the ancient Romans who threw gladiators and others to the lions for sport as this is what will happen to students in your charge.  They will all graduate and go on to a college they have zero chance of succeeding in and will not be prepared for any jobs.

At the end of the game, players who have met and exceeded their school's AYP will get accolades and receive all the prizes mentioned above.  They will then qualify for such jobs as school principal, superintendent, chancellor and presidential cabinet member in charge of education.

There will be a rush for these popular games so put in your order early to be sure you won't be left out.

Caring Equals Success

When I walked into my Thursday evening class, I saw several students still working on an exam.  The teacher, who always vacates the room by 5:45 was still there at 6.  I told him I didn't mind if the students stayed and finished and told him I would leave the exams in his mail box.  He thanked me and said something I always felt.  "I teach kids math.  I know these kids have issues I never faced when I went to school-jobs and families.  They are out too often and have difficult times studying and doing homework.  I want them to succeed and am willing to do all to help.  I expect homework, but I accept it late.  I give them every chance but I don't give them anything for free."

I never spoke to this man except for a quick hello or goodbye before.  I realized at that minute I found a kindred spirit, someone who shared my values and feelings about education.

I know why the students I meet love the school so much.  While there are teachers than don't think like this guy, many of us do.  We might not ask the exact right questions in the exact right form, we might not get every student to speak in every class and at times, we might not use the best motivational question, but we have what it takes to get the kids to pass--we care.

Success Letter

 I got the following letter today from a student.  Statistically, she would count as a failure.  Read the letter.  I know I was a success.  Thankfully, the college does not only look at numbers.

Hi Professor 

You know what..it was my pleasure to be in your class but I am gonna drop it. I just cannot do it. I have been at the hospital all day with one of the  developmentally disabled individuals I work with all day because of a self injurious behavior.  I will start fresh next semester because for one this job is consuming me and I have not been focused due to the constant headache for little pay. My first priority is to transfer to a site closer to home (Westchester) so that I will be less stressed, followed by transferring to a school closer to me such as Lehman.  Thank you for your flexibility and little life lessons you have offered me. You're a wonderful teacher. I will find out withdrawal date so I can bring you the slip to sign. Hopefully by next semester I will have a better job and be in a new school closer to home.-June 

Another Funeral

I worked with John at Packemin and now see him at the college.  When I saw him last week, I commented on not seeing him for a while.  He answered that his dad had been sick.  Tuesday he told me his dad was home. Thursday I gave him the information I had about home hospice.  Yesterday I got an e-mail saying his dad passed away.

I don't want to go to another funeral, especially one for a dad.  The memory of my dad's grave is still too fresh in my mind, but I am going anyway.  The love and support I got from people I worked with, people who I didn't even think liked me or thought about me was amazing and helpful and I want to do the same for John.

An orphan, whether at 6 or 60 hurts.  (Of course the younger you are the worse it is, no comparison.) If my presence even helps for a few minutes, I will be happy I went.

Billy Crystal

I saw Billy Crystal on Broadway Wednesday evening.  I knew my dad would have hated for me to waste the tickets and not go.  It would have hurt him to see $324 go in the trash.

The show was funny and sad.  It did exactly what it was supposed to do.  I know exactly how he felt when he said after his father died he went through life pushing a giant boulder in front of him.  I have rocks around my neck.  Oh, and his mom's passing, her stroke, was my dad's tumor.

I'm glad I went.  I wish I could reach out and thank him for the way he made me feel.

(Pictured is dad and his mom.  Photo chosen in honor of his service in WW II)

Home Town Tourist

I got off the subway this morning at 57th and 6th because there is nothing like a good walk in Manhattan to make me feel good.  As I walked towards my destination I overheard a fellow New Yorker look up and then say to his friend, "I feel like a tourist."

I knew exactly how he felt.  My destination was 49th and 5th.  I could have used a closer stop.  He and I had a brief conversation about the wonders of NYC and how I never got tired of playing tourist here.  I then left him to use the bathroom in the The Peninsula  Hotel, on 55th and 5th.  (I only pee in the best places.)

This is a picture of the Rockefeller Christmas tree being raised by a crane.  I've seen it decorated and being decorated but this was the first time I actually got to see them raising it.

My friends and I don't remember American flags around the tree.  I looked back at some old pictures and found this from 2008.

A New Kind Of Mentoring

The inexperienced no nothing AP is mentoring the young teacher who has had enough of the classroom and wants to move on to a position in administration.  Here is a copy of the letter the AP wrote her to cement their relationship.

Dear Young One, 

I was once a newbie like you.  After only a few years I too decided I wanted to be an administrator.  I could not see myself standing in front of a classroom and dealing with problem students for the rest of my career. Tough kids make me cry and they scare me quite a bit.  Now I can assign those kids to the teachers I don't like and hide out in my office whenever there is a problem.  I make sure I program myself for classes that require no work and I have even dismissed classes early.  I am in charge.  Who is going to tell on me? Besides, I love giving orders to others, especially those older and who think they are wiser than me.

Don't worry about not knowing much about a subject you are in charge of.  Look at me.  I knew nothing when I began this job and still know next to nothing.  I never make a decision and pawn work off on others. When I don't have an answer, I stare and get nasty to all around.  I can teach you to do all this and more.  I can help you get bonuses.

Young one, know this.  While I am mentoring you, you will be my slave.  You will do everything I tell you to do, including cleaning my house and babysitting my child.  You will write my observations and order my supplies.  Never forget I own you.  But, when it is all over, you will be able to own someone else.

Life is good when you are young and beautiful and know a little about technology.  Knowledge about anything else is totally irrelevant.

Sincerely yours,

Know Nothing and Proud of it Administrator 

 

New Blog

Blogging helped me cope with the emotions of teaching.  It was(and still is)  a way of getting it all out.  When my mom was dying, I started writing about all the things I was feeling.  For me, it was therapeutic.  I am now dealing with my dad's passing and trying to come to terms with all we went through these last six years when it was primarily just me and him, particularly these last few months as I watched his health steadily decline. 

Actually, I take that back.  I have been caring for my parents for years, worrying about how things would go since my mom was diagnosed with mylofibrosis about 5 years before she died.  It is strange not to be worrying about my parents anymore.  My fingers still itch to dial their phone and tell them about my latest bargain or to get a weather report from my dad.  I've started a new blog, I Miss My Dad.  I want to be able to write what I am feeling, share what I have learned about end life care and just vent.  The new blog will spare many from reading my sad tales.

I still plan to write here.  I have a few chihuahua stories to tell and lots of stories about Packemin and other schools.  No more Mr. AP stuff.  He came to my dad's funeral and to thank him I promise to never post anything that might make him look bad.

I would like to thank all my blogging buddies for their support and friendship. It is amazing how much the words of all you great people have helped.  And, I truly understand if you don't want to read the new blog.  I am mostly writing it for me.  I am selfish that way.

Park Ave Public Art

Trying to lift my funk, I took myself to Cold Water Creek to use the $25 coupon I got in mail yesterday.  I managed to score a $70 sweater for $8.  And, with the rain gone, I took a walk down Park Ave to the MOMA.  The public art along the way is wonderful.  Sorry, only so so pictures.  I didn't bring my good camera because of the rain.

More pics here.

Cleaning and Remembering Dad

We've begun the process of clearing out my dad's house.  It is both physically and emotionally draining.  No one would believe how much can be collected while living in the same place for almost 45 years.  And, who knows how much he brought with him from a former apartment.  In addition to normal stuff, dad believed in keeping records.  He had copies of every letter he ever wrote, including the envelopes he mailed them in, every bill he ever paid, including copies of checks he wrote and papers galore documenting every person he ever spoke to, including the time of day.

Dad's coffee pot is pictured above.  He started every day with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, freshly brewed a night or two before and reheated.  He liked it to be ready in the morning.  Since he stopped working 30 years ago, I never caught on to why he had no time to make it when he got up, and he never caught on to why I refused to drink it.  The inside of the pot is quite black.  I bought him a new one several years ago.  It is sitting in the kitchen where he put it when I handed it to him.

Dad labeled everything. My husband got a charge out of this free Radio Shack battery he got in 1986.  I believe he would have tried to use it if he knew where it was.

The one thing this has taught me is that when I finish with his house, I better start on my own.  I don't want my children to have to spend months cleaning out my stuff, stuff they won't understand why I saved either.

Teaching From The Heart

When I was out last week I got an e-mail from the covering teacher telling me how awful and disrespectful my class was.  I was shocked.  This particular group is one of the best classes I have ever taught at the college.  Attendance is almost perfect with the only late comers being those who hit a traffic snarl coming from work.  They don't pack up early and cell phones are out of sight.  They do homework and participate well.  This class is every teacher's dream.

when I returned, I spoke to them about their behavior.  I told them disrespect was not an option.  They sat quietly and let me talk.  I told them I had covered many classes and had never been treated that way and did not expect my students to treat anyone so poorly.  They sat and took it and we went on with the lesson.

On the way out, several students stayed behind to talk.  They told me the sub went very fast and when they asked hIM to slow down, he refused.  They told me they asked for additional problems like the ones he had done and he said no.  He said their regular teacher was going too slow and that neither one of us cared whether they passed or not.  (My students know this is not true about me.)  He told them if they did not understand they should go back and retake the previous class.

I don't know for sure what led up to this and I have no idea whether these words from my students are even true, but what they felt was true.  (These were all good students.)  The students probably were not that eager in the beginning.  I know it takes a few minutes to get a class going when you are not the regular teacher.  But, I wonder if he gave up on them too easily.

Teaching has to come from the heart.  It doesn't matter if a question is not phrased perfectly or if a concept has to be checked.  Students learn best when they know their teacher cares.  When I cover a class, I let them know right from the start I am there because I love teaching and want to help them.  I try to adapt to the style of the person I am covering for while keeping my own style in check.  I know I am not even close to being a master teacher.  (What is a master teacher anyway?  I never even heard that expression until I started at Packemin in the mid '80s.)  But, what I lack in that discipline, I make up for by caring.

One of the best things about teaching at the college is the people in charge know everyone has a different method and teachers are encouraged to use what works best for them.  No one complains about chalk and talk.  As long as the students are engaged and learning, the teacher is doing a good job.   Everyone doesn't have to speak or go to the board.  Students don't have to work in groups or teach one another.  We are judged on a whole, not on a check list of meaningless items.

Racism or Making Money?

Skimming through today's Post while enjoying pizza and beer at my favorite place, I read the headline

PEANUT BUTTER, JELLY & RACISM

It seems a group of highly compensated education consultants convinced the managers of a Portland Oregon schools that the peanut-butter sandwich is a potential tool  for racism as Hispanic and Somalian students don't eat sandwiches.  

If you don't believe this, here is one link to the story on the Huffington Post and if you search, you will find many more links.

Taking Responsibility

My friend's son did something hurtful.  Instead of letting it fester like I usually do, I sent him a message, explaining how I felt about what he did.  We went back and forth a few times and then he said he was wrong and he was sorry.  He didn't mean anything by this and did not realize the affect it would have on me.

I'm so glad we had this conversation.  I'm glad I opened the gate to the wall I usually build around myself.  I hope this teaches me a lesson for the future. I am so proud of him for apologizing instead of denying and making excuses.  It was a very mature and responsible thing to do.  He is way more responsible than many three times his age.  His mom should be proud of him.

Thanks

The selection posted above is a piece I read Thursday morning, after getting up from Shiva, before the rabbi came over and walked around the block with me.  This is the official ending of the Shiva period, the first time I set foot out of my home. A week is an arbitrary mourning time, but nevertheless, it sets some sort of boundary and is a way to cope with a loss.

 I am not especially religious and neither was my dad, but my mom was.  She would have liked me doing this.  I couldn't do it when she died as my dad was so distraught, caring for him became my only concern. Doing it for him also honored her.

We had a minion in my home every evening.  A minion is a group of at least ten Jews who gather and pray.  It is something my temple does for mourners.  Again, it was something I couldn't do for my mom as we sat in the Bronx so I am happy I was able to do it now.  Most of my friends are day people so it filled my heart with joy when people I barely knew from the congregation stopped by to help in my time of need.  I made a vow to be available to help others, a vow I intend to keep.

Friends and community came together to help me.  Words cannot express how much this meant to me.  I cried when I saw Mr. AP walk into the funeral chapel and hug me.  His words, that we were family in spite of our differences made the world of difference to me.  In spite of anything I have ever written, he showed he has a good heart.  There were others too. others who I won't mention here, others I would have thought forgot me, who showed care and concern by coming to the funeral and Shiva.  I have thanked them personally.

And now it is time to return to life.  I intend to continue saying Kaddish (prayer for dead) the full 11 months  (Parents are good and don't need the full year to get into heaven.)  I have hospital bed and oxygen tanks to return, phone calls to make and an apartment to empty.  Bless my wonderful husband for always being there, for being a son to my dad and helping me through this time.

How Can This Be Good For Anyone?

The social studies AP, barely into his 30's, two years past his tenure date, stood in front of his department and told the teachers that many thought they were good but would soon learn the opposite was true.  He said there would be many unhappy people as observations and ratings were delivered but he wasn't there to make friends.

Teachers are upset.  Their work will suffer.  As a result, the kids will suffer.  But, he is the king.  This little inexperienced twerp will be hurting many until someone wakes up and realizes he is not the one who should be in charge.

Only My Dad

My dad was obsessed with family and with having his affairs in order. 

I just went through some of the papers I brought home.  Only my dad would have an enveloped labeled this way.  He wanted to make sure things would be easy for my sister and I when the time came.

Dad's Honor Guard

My dad never liked to talk about his time in the army.  It was painful and he didn't want to inflict the memories on his family.  Mostly though, he thought of it as a job he had to do.

Dad was a medic who served on the front lines in Germany.  An aptitude test pointed to his ability in this field.  He amputated arms and legs and saved lives.  Dad was at the battle of the Bulge.  His whole unit was gone except for him and another medic.  He took off his red cross badge and picked up a gun.  He and his comrade held the enemy off until reinforcements arrived in the morning.

Dad got real lucky on two occasions.  One, a call of nature pulled him from the fox hole when a bomb exploded killing everyone inside.  The other was bad meat.  The bad case of hepatitis had him recuperating in a British hospital when the unit he was with was wiped out.  He recovered and was sent home.

Dad always got very upset when he saw us sending troops anywhere.  He knew what it was like to be in combat and he never wanted anyone else to go through what he went through.

I would like to thank my wonderful niece for taking these pictures.  This ceremony, with the taps is something I want to remember for a very long time.

People Needing People

Alone in a sea of people. You feel you don't belong. You feel others don't care if you are there or not. And then you experience a loss.  Suddenly people are coming out of the woodwork. Some do not surprise you. They have always been there. But, oh the others, the new, the casual, the ones who you thought did not know you exist and the ones you thought forgot you exist.  People streaming in and out and the phone ringing with voices from the past.

What a wonderful feeling to be loved. 

My Son's Tribute To His Grandpa

My son was not exactly a student when he was young.  My husband always wanted to wear a bag over his head at parent-teacher conferences, not wanting anyone to recognize him in case they overheard what the teacher said.  He didn't believe in homework or books.  Those spelling word sentence assignments were torture for both of us, but mostly me.

Well, things change.  Boys grow up.  My on is a wonderful success today, yet every time he does something wonderful, I still am in awe.  Can this really be coming from my little goof ball?  Friday morning he did it to me again when he read the most beautiful eulogy I have ever heard.  He might be pissed, but I am sharing it here.  My son and my dad share a birthday.  My son is the only boy (two daughters and three granddaughters.)  My dad and my son shared unconditional love.  My parents loved all their grandchildren equally but my kids always believed they were just a little more special, daughter for grandma and son for grandpa.

Over the past few days I have been trying to decide what I could say about grandpa and couldn't put anything coherent together. Last night as I went to sleep I decided to try to come up with one word to describe him and see if I could go from there. Quickly I decided the word is "duty".
Grandpa always did what was best for those around him, always putting everyone before him. Don't take that the wrong way. No one ever took advantage of him.
From as early as a teenager he worked to support his sister and mother. I am sure he gave back to those close to him long before that but the stories I know start there when he delivered telegraphs. Even singing ones. Anyone who knew my grandfather could tell you that going out in public and singing like that wouldn't have been his first choice of activities.

Later in the army he gave everything and risked everything anytime he heard the word "medic" shouted. For years after the war he didn't speak of the things he did and the lives he saved, not because he was traumatized or wanted to repress the memories but because he never saw himself as a hero. In his mind he was just doing what he was supposed to do and moved on with his life.

Years later my mother was born and then my aunt. As they grew up he work 2 job so my grandmother could stay home with them. Even when they got older and were in school he kept both jobs and gave grandma only 1 rule. She had to watch over them and be home to see who they spent time with. Make sure they didn't get into trouble or fall in with a bad crowd. Aunt Regina I am not sure how you snuck by. Or was aunt Terri really the bad one?

Grandpa would and did anything for his daughters. When Hula hoops were the big thing he got his hands on 2 and carried them home on the bus and subway. He was offered money for them, much more than they were worth. He wouldn't sell. No amount was worth more than the happiness of mom and aunt Iris.
At least not until Lisa was born, then my sister with me coming soon after and Ronnie the next year. I will never forget the smile that came to him every time we came over. No matter what else was going on when he saw us nothing else mattered and nothing could upset him. Not even how it would always rain immediately after he washed the car in our driveway. Or how Jenn and I would go down to our basement where he would be sleeping on the recliner and wake him up.

He would pretend to be annoyed but I know he always loved it. He would watch us play Nintendo or whatever other silly thing we were doing. He would even take his turn at Duck Hunt. I can't really call it a turn though. If he didn't have to stop to eat or go back home I think he would still be going. He sat as far back as the cord would let him and he never missed a shot.

Later grandma got sick and instead of working 2 jobs he changed career paths and become a care giver. Working 3 shifts. 24/7 doing everything for her. Not because she needed him to, although she did. He did it because it was the right thing to do. It was his duty. He loved our grandmother more then anyone has ever loved another person.
As grandpa got older and he was unable to take care of himself another amazing person entered his life. Effie his aide was with him constantly doing the things for him that he had always done for others. I use the term aid because I can't come up with the right words but she was much more then that to him. Even as he was unable to give to her in the ways he gave to others he still gave with compassion. Always looking out for her, worried about her getting home safely. Even those who were there to take care of him he would try to take care of. In his mind anyone in his life he had the duty to look out for.
I learned so much from him. I learned my first curse word,  "Macy's" and some great insults, like "Your mother wears army boots". He taught me valuable life lessons like to quit while I was behind. I can't count the number of times he told me that when I was misbehaving or goofing around. I knew when he said that to me that I had better stop what I was doing before I made a bad thing worse. Most importantly I learned the most important life lesson of all. It is better to give than to receive. The joy of giving far outweighs the joy of receiving.
Almost 90 years after he started giving he can finally stop giving and just enjoy. No more wars, no more long hours at 2 jobs, no more taking care of others or worrying about others. Just eternity back together with grandma.

Dad, Today Is Your Big Day

The clock says it is 6:47,  around the time I called my dad every day for more than six years.  He had a fear of dying in his sleep with no one finding him for days.  The calls, lasting only seconds reassured him this would never happen.

I want to call and once again set his mind at ease.  I want to tell him all the people that are here to pay tribute and bring him to his final resting place.  All his grandchildren are here.  His great grandchildren are here. We are telling stories and looking at pictures of him and mom and wonder what their first conversation  will be about once they are reunited.  Will she ask about us or tell him he should have shaved and gotten a haircut?  For once she won't complain about the ragged clothes he always chose to wear (the new ones lay in their packages and stay on their hangers with the tags on) as he is in a shroud, meeting his maker and her the way holy men do.  I know they will hug and kiss and probably be dancing around, glad to be together again.

I want to call but I don't.  He is not there to answer.

Hard

 



It is 6:45.  I rush to the phone because dad goes to bed early and I never miss saying goodnight.  I take out my phone and then put it away.  He can't answer.  I'll never be able to say talk to you in the morning again.  I never thought this would be so hard.

It's Over

My dad's angel called at 12:21 last night.  I answered but she wouldn't talk to me, only my husband.  I knew though.  It was over.

We got dressed and went to his apartment, wondering where we would be able to park at 1:00 AM.  God was on our side and left a space right in front of his building.  Both aides greeted us at the door.  Only the male aide was supposed to be there but dad's angel knew his time was near and did not want him to go without her.  We waited for the hospice nurse to come and announce his passing and fill out paper work.  We waited for the funeral parlor to pick him up.  We cried.  The angel and I cleaned.  (The men sat.)

We drove those two wonderful people home and went home to get some sleep.  This morning we went back to dad's house to find his Tallis.  I want him to have an orthodox funeral, to present to God the way he lived, as a wonderful human being.  We sat with the funeral director and finalized arrangements.  I saw him, told him how much I love him and how much I miss him and cried.

My dad went peacefully in his sleep.  My husband and I spent his last day on earth talking and caring for him.  I know he is now in a better place.  By midday Friday he will be reunited with my mom, the love of his life.

Transition

Transition is the time between life and death, the body is giving up and is ready to pass on to the spirit world.  At this time the body gets either hot or cold.

My dad hates the cold.  I would hate to see him freezing.  I like to think the temperature he is now running is G-d's way of making this transition more comfortable for him.

Pat On The Head

This cartoon made me think about all the Principals and Assistant Principals who have gotten big bonuses and better jobs because of the "work" they did improving graduation rates.  Of course, improving graduation rates had nothing to do with education.  Principals approve credits for breathing.  APs encourage teachers to give out answers during exams and pay per session so teachers can do on line assignments for their students.  When it comes to education, the pat on the head is money in the pocket to those on top.

By the way, I know there are some of you reading this that know this post is all about you.  I'll be laughing when the pat on the head turns into a kick in the butt for all the damage you have done to the students in your charge.

He Should Just Stop Fighting and Go

 



When my mom died, my dad wanted to die too.  He talked constantly of ending his life.  I cried.  I wasn't ready to lose both my parents at the same time.  Thankfully, his will to live was stronger than his will to die.

It is now six years since my mom has passed away.  Dad's health both physically and mentally is gone.  He is in hospice care.  I love him so much, but it is his time.  No one should be suffering the way he is.  The life he has is no life at all.  I'm ready to let him go.  I want him to stop fighting and go.  I want him to find my mom and be at peace.  I love him so much I want to him to be free.

Why Geometry Is Important

ATR Thrown Out In Favor of Newbie



The Principal called Mrs. ATR.  She said Mrs. ATR had a very impressive resume and requested her to come in the next day for an interview and a model lesson.  Mrs. ATR did that and was told by the teenage Principal the job was hers and she could start the next day.  Some of the classes would be out of license but she did not care.  She called friends, gathered material and came in prepared to work.

Mrs. ATR worked two days in this school and was then called to the teenager's office.  The Principal said her services were no longer needed.  Mrs. ATR was being replaced by a recent college grad, a young man with zero experience who had not been asked to interview or teach a demo lesson. 

Mrs. ATR is back in the pool, rotating from place to place.  She no longer cares about getting a permanent job.  She knows no one will hire her.  She knows her efforts and her expertise will not be valued or appreciated.  She plans on just collecting her check until retirement day comes.

How To Know If You Are Any Good

 



The students arrive in class early and ask questions about the homework, wanting to know why they couldn't get the exact answer that is in the back of the book.  During class they answer and ask and help one another.  They smile when they understand.  I know they know what is going on.  I know without them raising a left or right hand (the way my former AP insisted kids let us know when they get something.)  I can tell they are learning because they are happy.  Overall, students want to be taught and are not happy in classes where no education takes place and, no matter what they say, almost no one values that A that was not earned.

I meet former students on campus, on the bus, subway and restaurants.  They thank me for what I have taught them in the past.  They claim they would not be where they are today if not for me.  Whether that is true or not, is doubtful, but the fact they believe is what matters to me.

I don't need Danielson or a pisher AP to tell me if I taught a good lesson.  The kids I teach, and have taught, let me know all the time.

More Art Of The Brick pictures here.

Use Only One Square

Government employees back at work were issued one roll of toilet paper today and told to be frugal in its use as there would be no more until the shutdown is over. While there is money for people, there is no money for supplies of any kind.  (Use of soap is also limited.)



 

 

Little Pisher

 



I  took a Yiddish class in my temple last night.  One of the words on the list we went over was

PISHER:  A bed wetter, a young inexperienced person, a person of no consequence. 

Lots of people had their own definitions of the words on the list. Of course, sitting in a group of teachers, the one that came to us was 21st century school administrator. Unfortunately, these no nothing pishers are the ones to determine who keeps their jobs and who does not.

Government Shutdown



Some government employees get to go back to work tomorrow.  They will get paid when all this budget stuff is settled.  Can they tell the gas stations they will pay for filling their cars when this is over?  Will the banks wait for mortgage payments? 

These employees are glad to be back.  But, they need their paychecks.

The Back Door Opens



When I began my teaching career observations occurred three times a semester and they were always unannounced.  I taught in a dangerous school and we had to keep our doors locked (you never knew what a hall walker would decide to toss in a room) so, when we heard the turning of the key in the back door, we knew something was up.

I remember hating those observations, but, in retrospect, they were really the best.  My AP saw what I did on regular basis, not some random show I was putting on for her benefit.  And, while there were certain things she looked for and expected, I knew what these were and did my best to do them in every lesson.  Oh, Danielson hadn't written her framework and for all I know, she might not have even been born then, but this AP and her observations taught us all to be good teachers.  Even with the lowest level students, she insisted on mathematically  precise language (my former AP said he wasn't impressed with "fancy" words and wanted us to use baby words the kids could understand.)  She taught discipline and she helped with curriculum.  She knew who was good at their job and who was not and didn't need standardized tests to form her opinion. 

The best part of the unannounced observations was no sleepless night or extra long preparation the night before.  They weren't so bad at all.  And, unlike the observations of today, these were designed to help, not hurt.  The comments in the 3 - 5 page report were insightful and led to better teaching.  A special ed AP recently told her department that the new evaluations would help her get rid of teachers she did not like.  Since she is incompetent herself, she wouldn't know a good teacher if she observed one and if she did, she would not want him around and now she would could be as clueless as ever and just follow a meaningless rubic.  It is back door to the rescue of the AP.

(Picture from The Art Of The Brick--a Lego exhibit at Discovery times Square by Nathan Sawaya--amazing what this guy can do with Legos.  It is a good thing Danielson wasn't around when he went to school or his creativity might have been stifled.)

 

Babies and Old People

 



I remember holding my daughter for the first time and worrying about how I could possibly care for this little person who was totally dependent on me for everything.  I remember rushing her to the doctor two days after we brought her home because she was crying and I did not know what was wrong.  She could not express her needs, but, she was small and I could easily get medical help for anything bothering her.  Thankfully at that time there was nothing wrong with her and my breast in her mouth usually soothed the beast in her.

Now I am responsible for the well being of an 89 year old.  All of a sudden he can no longer express his needs or communicate what he needs and wants.  Like the baby who cries, he is frustrated and angry.  He refuses to leave the house and an ambulance to an emergency room is not an option.  I know he will never survive a hospital stay.  I am in the process of setting up a home hospice, but it is hard.  God bless his wonderful caretakers Effie and Nat. I do not know what I would do without them.  I can't soothe him and I can't take his pain away.  I hope somewhere deep within, he still knows how much I love him and pray for him to find peace.

Aging

He gets up and then he sits down.  He repeats this activity for an hour.  The aide calls it calisthenics. He figures I won't get upset if he is exercising.  I know that is not what he is trying to do.  I am not sure he even knows what he is trying to do.  We both know he is not happy with what he is doing.

He walks until the walker hits a wall.  He gets frustrated and wants help.  He wants us to move the wall and gets angry when we say we can't.

It hurts so much to see his pain and no there is no way to relieve it.  He is a good man who led a good life.  He should not be suffering this way.

Trapped



Trapped in a body that no longer does what you want it to do. 
Arms and back hurt all the time.
Legs don't do what your brain tells them to do.
Lips that cannot utter your thoughts and articulate your needs.  Lips that utter words I never heard you use before.  Language coming out you never would use, especially in front of your daughters.  You are angry and belligerent, and I am incapable of helping.
Watching your frustration is frustrating me as well.

I love you.  Seeing you suffer is ripping me apart.