Cupcake Week

One of the most glorious parts of my neighborhood, Squirrel Hill, is Dozen, the local cupcake shack.  And, one of the most glorious parts of Dozen is Cupcake Week, which happens to be this week.  Wednesday is $1 cupcake day, so Charles and I feasted on an after-lunch dessert of one dark chocolate cupcake (mine) and one root beer cupcake (his).  Charles swears he can taste the fizz of the root beer.  I am too busy inhaling mine to talk out any interesting nuances or hidden ingredients of this chocolaty goodness.  So, we are full.  And happy.  And we are reminded that some things about Pittsburgh taste really, really good.

Sex Education

"You can't get pregnant unless you like both go at the same time..."  

This was a phrase Charles heard frequently as a teacher in an all girls high school.  Word of mouth became the primary source of sex education for his students.  Their public-schooling had preached to them nothing but abstinence.  So, they turned to each other, believed their boyfriends and operated under completely ridiculous assumptions.  It was no wonder he watched his young freshmen drop out to raise the children they never planned to conceive.  Frequently, he'd confiscate a pregnant student's liter of soda and explain that large amounts of caffeine is unhealthy during pregnancy.  Most of his students did not behave out of rebellion - they were literally never educated, given alternative contraceptive options (besides abstinence), and once they did become pregnant they were never taught the safest and healthiest ways to carry a child to term.

Ann Fessler, author of The Girls Who Went Away, compiles dozens and dozens of interviews with women who conceived during the 50s and 60s - the pre-Roe v. Wade era.  It was startling how similar their stories were to one another - although most were raised in nice, suburban, affluent homes, these girls were never given access to contraception or vital sex education.  They were told to resist their boyfriends' passes, yet when he wouldn't relent and she wound up pregnant, she was the one that carried the massive shame, was ushered in secrecy to a home for unwed mothers (or forced to marry) and strongly encouraged to surrender her baby to adoption.  Most of these women were traumatized for the remainder of their lives, having relinquished a child, as they were told they were unfit for motherhood and would bring even more shame to their family if they kept their baby.  

Fessler (an adoptee) is currently working on a documentary film version of her book and spoke on Pitt's campus Monday.  She also visited my literature class yesterday, and I so very much admire and applaud her efforts to give these women voice, as most have felt forced to keep their "shameful" past a secret.  

However, while Fessler reports on a different era - an era that made birth control virtually impossible to receive and watered down sex education - she emphasizes the fact that we (as a nation) still have a long way to go.  Abstinence only sex education is centered around a myth that young people will follow this suggestion.  Some do.  But 45% of teens under 18 have already had sex - and what happens when they don't know their options? Unplanned pregnancies.  The current administration is proposing a bill that would allow any health care provider, pharmacist, nurse, etc. to refuse to assist with any medical service he or she finds objectionable (see Hillary Clinton and Cecile Richard's Op-Ed).  This ranges from prescribing a monthly packet of birth control pills to performing an abortion.  It is already standard that a doctor can choose not to perform an abortion.  This law would take women's choices and stigmatize them further - equating birth control with abortion.  And, because not all "objectionable" services are clearly defined under this law, any medical professional would have the ability to deny any form of treatment or medication that went against their personal morals or beliefs.  Where do you draw the line?

Having witnessed the consequences of what happens when young girls (and boys for that matter) are not properly educated and given choices (whether that be abstinence or birth control), I'm fearful of reverting even further back toward the days of pre-Roe v. Wade.  In my opinion, we still have quite a long way to go and stepping backwards by allowing women to feel shameful and stigmatized for asking for birth control pills seems to move us in the wrong direction.  Unplanned pregnancy is clearly a traumatic experience (whether the next step involves abortion, adoption or early motherhood) - so why aren't we equipping our young people with education and contraceptive options that would no doubt help parents enter into parenthood when they plan to? 

8. Dance Like Your Pants Are On Fire...

After stuffing ourselves with Cevapi (pronounced chew-op-ay), garlicky Croatian sausages topped with raw onion on warm pita, we stared into the glass paneling of the member's only club.  Michelle, my full blooded Serbian-Croatian friend, came to Pittsburgh this weekend and aroused the one-eighth Croatian in me.  After conversing with the Euro-Mart cook earlier in a language incomprehensible to me, we stood outside Javor's Croatian Club on Pittsburgh's North Side and waited for someone to grant our entry inside.  We felt (and looked) like naive younger siblings of high schoolers as we tried to achieve entry into the weekend's exclusive party with beer and no parents.  Only this weekend, we were twenty-something, and our high school role models were really fifty, balding, Croatian and drank their beer generously and legally.  We took seats toward the door and tried to advert our eyes to the awkward glances we received from the regulars who wondered how we washed up on their private, Croatian shore.  And, of course, no awkward private party would be complete without live accordion-infused music and unintentional dancing.  

After an hour of uncomfortable gazing at the regulars, we were finally approached by a tall, white-haired and self-labeled German-Austrian and a pocket-sized Indian man, both who prided themselves on frequenting every ethnic music/dance hall around the city.  Upon learning that Michelle was familiar with traditional circular Croatian dance, they petitioned the band to pep up the tempo so we could "clear the cobwebs" from the dance floor.  And so as Michelle immediately blended in, Charles and I held hands, circled up and faked fancy footwork (painfully) as the regulars silently felt just as embarrassed for us as we did for ourselves.  

This weekend, I was reminded of how awkward it is to be conscious of the eyes that witness sloppy dancing.  And I wished that I could have adopted the innocence of my favorite middle school dancer of all...

                                      #  #  #

They swarm around him in a wide and powerful sphere.  A.’s forehead breeds small pools of smelly perspiration.  His body jolts like a rusty robot getting used to his hinges after a winter in the attic.  His usual pale cheeks scream emergency red.

“Should I save him?” I ask the teachers beside me.  We stand atop the bleachers and watch our students morph into humans.  They untuck their uniform polo shirts.  Some have even surrendered their belts.  This is against the rules, but they are happy and that is okay.  I envy the way they move—ratcheting and laffy taffying. 

“He’s fine.  He’s having fun.  Just leave him alone.”  I purse my lips together and dimple the creases of my mouth.  I worry about him like I worry about my grandmother.  Maybe he’ll have a stroke.  Or a heart attack.  Or maybe he’ll just drop dead.  But, more than fatal illnesses, I worry that they will laugh and that I will be there to witness it.

The kids continue to circle.  They clap to the beat of “Lean wit it Rock wit it.”  Black kids.  White kids.  A. plunges face first to the ground. 

“That’s it, he needs saving,” I declare.  I approach the group.  A humps the floor from his chest to his thighs and attempts the Worm.  His arms fail like a two-legged octopus.  His chin smacks the wooden floor on the down swing of his floor-maneuver.  I squeeze into the circle, amazed that these kids who once barely grazed my shoulders now tower over me.  The students around him clap and smile.  I honestly can’t believe it.

              I back off just a bit—calming my maternal instinct.  Eventually, A. curls up onto two feet and saunters right out of the circle.  Another song passes.  Then another.  And, through the dense smell of nachos and fizz of cold drinks, I watch him.  He doesn’t smile.  But, others do.  They are learning, as am I, that though he is strange, A. is just a little man who happens to like doing the Worm inside a circle at a school dance.

I've Graduated...

There are three students in my Memoir course.  But I don't mind because I have graduated...

#  #  #

"You mean you haven't been planning your first-day-of-teaching-outfit for days?"  Charles was confused as he watched me leaf through my closet, debating my options and allowing my fingers to graze the textures of my fabrics: scratchy polyester, stiff denim, sturdy cotton.  

"No, I haven't been planning my outfit," I spouted back.  "Now help me decide: jeans or skirt?"  

"Just wear what you always wear around campus.  Just wear jeans."  As always, I appreciated Charles's participation in my self-indulgent debate.  And, as always, I listened.  Yet despite his opinion, I chose what I was always going to.  

"I'm going to wear this black skirt," I said. "I'm worried that they'll think I'm a lot younger than I am if I wear jeans."  

#  #  #

On Friday, I graduated to high school.  It was a nice change planning for my new students.  Instead of making glittery posters of our class rules and consequences, I printed off copies of my lengthy syllabus.  Instead of wondering when (because it's only a matter of time) someone would fall out of their chair, I wondered which colleges my new students would apply for.  And, instead of dry cleaning my one Ann Taylor pant suit, I mixed and matched the parts of my wardrobe that said "creative" and "grad student".

I'm a part-time high school teacher.  And I love it.  I brought cookies for us to share (read: I gave them sugar) and no one had a giggle attack or fell into a convenient sugar coma.  We read and wrote and they didn't raise their hands.  They don't call me Ms. anything - just my first name - and we're Facebook friends because when it comes right down to it, I could feasibly be their big sister.  

I've graduated to high school.  And I'm excited to see my students progress as I learn how to adapt my middle school ways to fill their pre-college, gifted noggins.

Stay tuned for more revelations regarding high school teaching...

I posted a video of Anna West performing a poem a few days ago.  In light of Hurricane Gustav's effect on Baton Rouge (that has virtually gone unnoticed in the media), the NYTimes finally acknowledged Red Stick's less-than-bearable living conditions.  Anna West and her son are photographed reading with a flashlight...

Read the entire story here.

7. Survive a Hurricane

August 2005  Ten days into my teaching career, the Superintendent phoned hundreds of households around the parish explaining that school would be delayed due to an incoming storm.  Students and teachers alike cheered.  Visions of hurricane parties and days that resembled summer break made us giddy.  A meteorologist's dream, Hurricane Katrina swirled through the Atlantic - a northerner's lore and figment of mythology.  I filled my bathtub with water.  My roommates unplugged the toaster, the television, the hairdryers.  We filled paper bags with the contents of our refrigerator.  And, I fled Baton Rouge, cursing my cell phone that failed to work and watched the cypress stumps take the ebbs and flows of the Atchafalaya Basin as I drove north, inland.

A week later, we returned - our yards filled with detached, homeless tree limbs, our classrooms filled with the limbs of children, still drying, still mending.  The faces of our students were weathered, but new to us.  While we waited for the phone call to announce school's resume, our new students waited on rooftops, on bridges, on patches of hot, black highway.

Then, after Rita, the walls of our school snaked the furry mold that grows in only the moistest of windowless buildings.  Again, we were home from school so that the mold could be scrubbed with bleach and the soggy poster boards peeled from the chipping beige walls.

August 2008  Seven days into my second year of graduate school, I watched meteorologists nearly wet themselves in excitement.  A three year hiatus, these men in rain slickers could once again use their favorite vocabulary words to describe Gustav: wrath, fury, devastation.  From Pittsburgh, I became an onlooker, an outsider.  I phoned friends who left town and returned only to sweat out their discomfort in salty beads and wait for the phone call that would announce their return to school.  New Orleans, this time having stood firmly against the gusts and pelts of rain, quickly faded from the meteorologists' lips.  South Louisiana, to the rest of us, was silenced and life resumed while children fanned themselves in the sticky heat of their Baton Rouge living rooms.

I sit in my air conditioning - comfortable, dry, and complete my homework for my classes that haven't been cancelled due to a hurricane.  I miss my students and almost can't believe the first group is now in high school and the second preparing for the LEAP.  I worry about their progress - whether their teachers challenge them or give them worksheets and lines when they've misbehaved.  I wonder how their homes fared.  If their, our, powerless school again snaked with mold only to be killed with the whitest, most potent bleach.  I'm reminded that they, without realizing, are triumphant despite the odds of hurricanes inside and outside of their classrooms.

Watch Anna West stick it to the Board of Ed:

Battle for the Board of Ed

6. When In Doubt, Choose C

In honor of Charles who will take the ACT for the second time tomorrow at the age of 27, I've scrounged up a piece of satire I once wrote in light of standardized testing...

Morning Announcements: Testing Week

…with LIBERTY and JUSTICE for all…

Thank you, Tynika, for reminding us why we live in the BEST country in the world: the US of A. (1)

Now, remember students: on Wednesday we’ll choose our student of the month for April who will take over leading our pledge.

Get caught being a Conscientious Cougar!!  (2)

BBBBBBBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…

Teachers, please disregard the bell and hold your homeroom students.  I have some extremely important information in regards to our upcoming TESTING WEEK.  Students, at this time you must remain SEATED and SILENT.  And, teachers, please write down the names of any students talking during this time and I will deal with them personally.  This information is too important to miss.  I’ll also be making copies (3) of this list and distributing them tomorrow in your mailboxes.  For your classroom warm-up each week, please review these items with your students.

Cougars, we have over a month of school left, but now is the time to buckle down and try your very best because next week, as you know, is TESTING WEEK: the most important week of the academic year (4).  8^th graders – remember that if you score below a Basic, you will not be promoted to high school (5).  6^th and 7^th graders – the iLEAP is an indicator for how you will do in 8^th grade (6).  It BEHOOVES you to do your very best!

We need to work together to remember these very important rules for our testing environment.  Listen up:

1. NO CELL PHONES.  Students, cell phones aren’t allowed anyway and especially not this week.  We will take it away if we see one , so if you want to keep your cell phone safe, leave it at home! (7)

2. EAT BREAKFAST!  Students, it is IMPERATIVE that you eat a good breakfast each morning of testing week – you need that brain food!  Teachers, we’re asking you to please call your homeroom students’ homes to remind their parents to feed them this week. (8)

3. SCHOOL STARTS AT 7:50!  If you arrive each day of testing this week and on time, students, you’ll be eligible to win an ipod donated by Wal-Mart.  Don’t forget, students, school begins at 7:50. (9)

Now, students bear with me, I have just a few announcements for teachers only:

1. Teachers, remember that lesson plans are STILL DUE for testing week and are due on Friday.  Please indicate the stress-free activities you have planned for your classes.  Remember, we want the only academic focus to be the test for this week. (10)

2. Remember that I will be conducting “walk throughs” on Friday to check that your rooms are TEST SECURED.  Make sure all posters are taken down or covered up.  Not even one single letter may be visible.  Check with Ms. Bell in the art room if you need butcher paper. (11)

3. WEAR COMFORTABLE SHOES!  Teachers, during TESTING week you are NOT to sit down at your desk or on any chair of any kind.  State monitors will be walking in and out and documenting your actions.  You are to circulate the room at all times. (12)

4. WEAR BRIGHT COLORS and DON’T TOUCH THE THERMOSTAT!  Ms. Mary Kay was kind enough to bring forth this cutting-edge research that says bright colors help stimulate thinking in students and allow for better test achievement.  Ms. S will be coming in special on Sunday to set the thermostat to an even 70 degrees, the temperature Ms. Mary Kay also read helps students to concentrate. (13)

5. Remember, teachers, to pick up your testing materials and number-two pencils before reporting to your classrooms each morning.  NEVER leave your testing materials alone or with someone else. (14)

6. I will be issuing updated homeroom rolls by Thursday.  You are each responsible for calling each student’s home to walk the parents through the MUSTS for this week – they must eat and they must come to school.  Ms. Mary Kay in the front office has been working diligently to get in touch with those students who have not had regular attendance. (15)

7. Friday we’ll be on an activity-schedule because we’re doing a dry run of testing week.  Since those students receiving testing accommodations may be confused as to where to report, we’ll run through it all a couple times if we have to. (16)

 

Okay, Cougars, it all comes down to this week.  Remember, achievement is 99% how hard you work and only 1% what you actually know.

 

Annotations:

1. This “best” country in the world I speak of has an achievement gap as deep and wide as a threatening and deadly canyon.  Out of 13 million American children growing up in poverty, half will graduate from high school.  Poor third graders are three grade levels behind their affluent white peers.  Those poor kids who do make it to high school read at an 8^th grade level.  And, one in ten of these poor kids will graduate from college.

2. Approximately five students in the entire school have been taught the meaning of the word “conscientious” by their English teacher.  Hell, I don’t even know if I know the definition.

3. IF the copy machine is working this week, I’ll gladly have Ms. Mary Kay in the front office copy these suckers for you – that’s her job, not mine.

4. Literally.  This is the one week that our school will ensure that this school runs “properly” but damnit we WILL NOT get fined or cited.

5. Louisiana state education policy prohibits a student who does not achieve a “Basic” overall score on his or her state test from high school promotion.  Approximately 40% of students in East Baton Rouge Parish fail it on the first try.  Statistics show that once a student is retained a grade, his or her chances of achieving a high school degree is halved. 

6. Actually, we need strong 6^th and 7^th grade scores to boost our overall school score.  If the No Child Left Behind monitors notice that our score has dropped, we’ll lose funding.  Eventually, if we continue to decline, we’ll be taken over by the state or shut down entirely.

7. When you arrive each day, we will pat you down and throw your things in a Wal-Mart shopping cart that we’ve borrowed for the week.  If you’re lucky, your parents will be allowed to sift through your things that have been dumped into a garbage sack and sit in a corner of the gymnasium AFTER testing week.  Hide your house key in your underwear.

8. Since we will call your home and beg your mama, auntie, granny to feed you this week.  And, since we’ll also have breakfast available for everyone (not just for the free/reduced lunchers).  And, since we’ll force you to clean your styrofoam plate because we believe that food makes the mind work better.  And, since we only feed you crappy, processed foods…you will most likely get diarrhea and ask to use the restroom in the middle of the test.  But, because testing security is so tight, you won’t be allowed out of the room until each student is finished.  Therefore, please try not to shit your pants.

9. For the first time all year, we will do everything possible to get you to school on time.  We’ll even reward you! 

10. Lesson plans usually roll in sometime Monday or Tuesday of the week you are teaching these concepts.  We will demand these on the correct due date this week because the state is watching us very closely.  Please bring your own DVD player from home and show videos for your students after the test.  Rent these videos with your own money.  Just remember to take your DVD player with you whenever you leave your room (to use the bathroom, to eat lunch, etc.) because we will not replace it if it is stolen.

11. I’m not joking about this.  Even cover up your computer keyboards (if you have one).  Not even a single letter may be visible to the students or the state testing security monitors will shut down your room as a testing site and then they will fine us money that we do not have. 

12. I know you sit at your desk for 3/4ths of a regular day.  Well, get those orthopedics out, ladies.  If you’re caught sitting down during the test by a testing security monitor, I will personally add a letter to your permanent file.

13. Put away those grays and tans!  Someone read somewhere once that bright colors stimulate thinking and a certain temperature will ensure excellent performance!  Your students will be so taken aback at your ridiculously bright outfit that it will take them twenty minutes to fill in the bubbles of their last name.  The temperature change will also distract them, and they’ll spend the entire test wondering why it isn’t freeeeezing or unbearably hot.  Wait, the AC will actually work (at a respectable temperature/at all) this week?

14. If you need to take a shit, those tests better be on your lap as you sit on the toilet.  If I see them left by the sink and they get wet, I might fire you.

15. Up until now, we don’t care about those students who have stopped coming to school or who show up once a week.  It doesn’t matter that they haven’t been learning all year.  What matters is that their completed test (of randomly bubbled letters) will earn us some points.  But, if they don’t show up at all, we receive a zero and our overall score will go down.  Remember to tell these students that this is the ONLY week they need to come to school everyday.  Tell them we won’t bother them again until next year at this time.

16. This is one week in which the special education students will actually receive appropriate accommodations/modifications.  This foreign small group setting and the sound of a teacher actually reading the questions aloud will confuse the hell out of them.  These accommodations (required by law) are supposed to help these students achieve like the “regular” kids, but this new, strange format will only throw them off.