In Response to Making the Grade...

The state of America's education is dire. Agreed. There are more students in classrooms than ever before; there is more pressure on teachers than I have ever felt in 18 years. Watching Tamron Hall and Hill Harper discuss the state of education with their "experts" has left me frustrated and near tears. Never before have I felt so ready to find a new job, and I LOVE WHAT I DO!

Right, there are bad teachers, but do you really think that's the majority of us? I just spent the last two weeks of my "summer vacation" moving furniture from one room to another for the third time in three years, and developing my first two units of the school year. I have spent time looking for material that would be engaging and meet the standards that I want my students to acheieve. Then I watch this program that talks about how all these bad teachers and the teacher unions are the reason for drop outs.

At 1:17 minutes into a 2 hour program before the experts start talking about what teachers need to be successful, what tools we need. How about smaller class sizes? How about more prestige given to the profession? How about just not bashing us? How about putting ONE TEACHER on the panel of "experts," Ms. Hall? HOW ABOUT THAT? Ms. Hall, if I held you to the samde standards for your journalism as you hold for me as a teacher, I believe that you would be failing to "make the grade" as well.

I have never been so disappointed in a journalistic endeavor in my life. Rather than offering solutions, all this program did was place blame and most of it on my back...on the teacher's back. I was hoping to see you profile effective programs that address educational issues. Wouldn't it have been more effective for you to profile that school in Houston and talk about what they're doing than to have a panel of experts give sound bites? What about giving us something to walk away with? Something beside a black eye?


At 1:28 you begin to really address the issue of parental involvement, but who's responsibility is it to engage those parents...oh yeah, the teacher's.

Darrin's Graduation

My son has done a lot to make me proud of him in the last 22 years. He has made soccer goals, home runs, great grades, graduated from high school, and now...he's graduated from college. I have never been more proud of him than I was last Saturday when this was taken. He's become a great man...despite or because of me, who can say. Either way, I am crazy proud.

Much too long between posts

Yes, I know I haven't written since September. I will however be writing more frequently. It's the day after Mother's Day, and I have to say it was to me the best Mother's Day weekend ever. Why? Because my son and husband went with me on a Writer's Marathon. My husband wasn't comfortable enough to share his writing out loud, but he wrote :-)! And my son wrote wonderful pieces. He has a great vocabulary and crazy good voice in his writing. I was so proud. I know it's corny, but it really was probably the best gift I could have ever gotten. I loved listening to his writing.

This is where the Beyond starts

Ok, so I have been back from Africa for one month exactly, and as much as it had an impact on my life, I must admit that there are limited outward signs of change, which is a little frustrating. I sort of wish I could pack my bags and go "DO" something, make change happen, but realistically, I have committments, obligations to friends, family, employers, and students - people who are counting on me to be here to do what they expect me to do.

Rich was right, as soon as I say South Africa, peoples' eyes glaze over. They're not interested in the AIDS epidemic or the state of the townships, but hey if I bring out a baby elephant picture...they're all over it!

So, what do I do now? Ok, well this is where I started. I teach at a 7-9 junior high for most of my assignment and am part of a "team" of teachers who share the same 150 or so kids. Our "team" has adopted Ubuntu, I am because We are, as our motto. We're working on creating an Ubuntu crew of students who will be our core welcoming body for new students and sit on a panel to make "team" decisions. HOWEVER, I am not really on the team because I don't have common planning with these people (the teachers). I only see 25 of the 150 students we "share" and I'm stuck in a hole behind the stage where I see ABSOLUTELY no other adult all day, unless I run into someone at the copier. Great "team"! So, I'm left to sit and hope they take the Ubuntu concept and run with it.

What else is going on? Well, I'm writing three new curriculums for three classes I haven't taught in 8 years and it's a little difficult to go far beyond day to day prep work. I have started meeting with my National Board candidates from my school district and will be working with them throughout the year. I have picked two plays to develop for spring semester, one as a class project, one as a school project, and I've been asked to go to Philadelphia for the NCTE convention in Novemeber. That's about it for now. I'll keep you posted on how the "team" works out.

The end, for now

Our flight didn’t leave Capetown until 10 pm, so I had some time to kill on Wednesday. I went with Dixie and Melanie to the aquarium and had my own shark encounter; much less dangerous than the one some of the people in the group did while I was boozing it up at the wine festival. The kelp farm was magnificent, relaxing and hypnotic.

Then Melanie and I went back to Oude Moulen school and visited with Sandy. We sat in on a couple of classes and Sandy and I spoke about trying to do a book or film study in January/February. I’m really disappointed again that I’m not teaching 9th grade. This joint project would work so well with their curriculum and the way I teach, as it is, I dread playing catch up and trying to create three new courses in two weeks. However, that's not what I want to write about. I want to write about leaving Capetown.

When I was leaving Capetown on the plane in the dark, I regretted that I couldn’t have one last look at Table Mountain. How did I know that the wine festival would be the last day it wasn’t covered in clouds? I wanted one last look at Robben Island, the Waterfront, the Check Inn, Xolani, Richard, the townships. I wanted one last look before it all faded into the clouds of the sky. I don’t feel like I said a proper goodbye to a place that has wormed its way into my own story. I have become a collector of stories, but it’s not until the plane lifted away from the runway that I realized what I have been really doing is writing my own story.

Ok, so this is when I cry. Of all the people, it was hardest to leave Xolani. He has become a good friend and if I could pick someone to adopt as a brother, it would be him. He and I shared many good moments and he’s the only one who ever picked up on my mood at seeing or being somewhere. I appreciate his kindness and his generosity, sharing his story and becoming part of mine.

Since I have returned home, people have wanted me to sum up my trip in 2 minutes or less. Rich is right, they don’t want to hear the whole story and they are already getting tired of me saying, “When I was in South Africa…” I obviously can’t sum up the trip in two minutes or less, those of you who have been reading this know I’m more than a little long winded.

What I can say is that to me South Africa is a juxtaposition of anachronisms, just when you think you understand a piece of South Africa there’s something that doesn’t fit. The Mercedes in front of a township shack. The flat screen TV in Vicky’s and our wonderful dinner, and Thandile eating our leftover chicken in the kitchen. The slave lodge museum with a room dedicated to old children’s toys. South Africa is the third world and the first world right next to each other, not just in neighborhoods, but literally across the street. It’s corrugated steel shacks and brick houses with carved wooden doors. It’s racists and hope. It’s diamonds and smileys. It’s scars and gaping wounds. It’s beauty and danger. It is South Africa. Yes, I know that waxed on, sorry for the sap, but there it is. There’s my impression in “two minutes or less,” so to speak.

August 3-4

August 3rd was our last day of lectures. Betsy did a great lesson on the state of South Africa’s economy, the impact of employment and foreign investments. She had a lot to say about the infrastructure spending South Africa is doing now to prepare for the World Cup and had the same question we all do, “What happens in 2011?” When the eye of the world leaves South Africa, will Zuma continue to pump as much money into development?

We also had our “retrospective” look at South Africa. There were quite a few tears shed by people who have grown attached to their colleagues and friends as well as the country. I didn’t cry, but I was the third one to speak. Tommy had some great haikus, I’d love to get some copies and share them with you. He captures in syllables some stunning pictures, funny and honest, about the country. It is a very original way to view South Africa. Kim was poignant and memorable, such an articulate writer. I aspire to give you the same impressions that he gives his readers.

Later that night, we went to the African Café and celebrated. We had a 13 course meal of different African dishes, some good, some not. My favorite was the curry and the cassava bread, a bread with yogurt and cheese cooked in. We said our formal goodbyes to Rich and Kay, Chris and Kim drew them beautiful cards with caricatures of themselves. I gave Xolani the card and tip money I had collected for him and Rich did the same for Richard. It was a boisterous night and I was sort of sad that it wasn’t more conducive to discussion. Melanie and I sat together with Xolani, Richard, Rich, Kay, and our other guests. It was interesting sitting away from the majority of the group. I had felt all trip that I was on the outside of the group, looking in and in this case I really was. While I like many of my fellow travelers, I don’t feel that there were many close bonds created. I sat looking at these people I didn’t know six weeks ago and won’t know in three more days, and I knew that I was ready to come home more than anything else.

August 4, one last road trip. We went out to Tulbagh and saw yet another old Cape Dutch building, this time a church and to the Afrikaans language monument. I think Rich described it best when he said it was a phallic symbol of the Afrikaans. It was indeed, a long one...used to screw the African natives and give the finger to the British invaders simultaneously.

August 2 part 2

After the brief walking tour, I had to hurry back to the Waterfront to catch a ride with Kathy, Dixie, Amy V., Tommy, and Jason for the wine festival in Stellanbosch. I was worried at first because even though I had asked Vicky and her husband about leaving near 9 am to get back to the hotel in time, it was after 9:30 before we left Khayelitsha, South African time does not work on a schedule. Heather, Mary, and Kori loaned me some money, since I wasn’t going to be able to come back to the hotel and get my own. I bought a hat on the waterfront and went wine drinking, sans shower.

I had a lot of fun tasting wines and of course there was delicious gourmet food, including a lady bug cupcake, wine, salami, and some wonderful sausage and swarma. No, I didn’t eat ALL of that.
It was probably one of the most fun and relaxing days of my journey. But, again it was a day squirreling away stories of people and experiences.

First, I met Devin and Paul, two heavily intoxicated but social Afrikaners. Paul, I think, was trying to hit on Amy V, but Devin kind of spoiled it when he began telling us how much he disliked the United States and how conceited we are because we don’t travel enough. “People from the states just don’t get the rest of the world,” he argued. I told him he was partially correct, but no one turned down our money or aid when they were in need, so we may be insular and detached, but we (as a people) have also been generous and concerned. He’s right that we have made a lot of mistakes, especially surrounding foreign policy, frequently bullying countries into submission, but I think as a general group, Americans are also passionate about causes they believe in. We put our money where our mouth is, if it’s something we truly care about. In the end, Devin still gave me a sloppy hug and told me, “You’re all right for an American,” before weaving his way off to find more wine.

The second person we met was a sommelier from Speir, a winery. While we were sitting on the sofas having cheese and crackers, Jason came over raving about this hot sommelier who as it just so happened was sitting right across from us. He turned three shades of red J. She was brilliant though. We sat talking to her for a good thirty minutes, her and a coworker with a family. They were wonderful people. She was young and so full of hope for her country. She is working on her second degree, one in marketing. She said she has no intention of leaving the country because she wasn’t to make her home better. She told us about finding funding sources to put her through school and help her with difficult topics, and we talked about what she remembered of apartheid, and what she remembers most is that we would not have been sitting there talking together the way we were, a mix of colored and white. If we did, we would certainly be ostracized by the whites around us. Every time I talked to someone in his/her twenties in SA, I have been impressed by their hope and determination in a country that has 60% unemployment of the youth. Even the young men, recovering from their Saturday party that we met in Khayelitsha spoke about their pride in the country and their hard work to get somewhere.

The final people we met were Jim and Louise, a white couple. He was from Liverpool and she from Jo’burg. They had been long distance dating for some time and were recently engaged. They were both very friendly. Tommy, Amy, and I even ended up having dinner with them when we returned to Capetown. What stands out most to me about them is that they are educated and trained employees, but when they marry they’ll go to England, not stay in South Africa. As Jim said, “There’s no jobs here for a white male immigrant.” Louise will give up her country because there’s no way the affirmative action policies in place would allow Jim to get a job. There’s hope for a coloured sommelier, but not for a white man in South Africa.