Black and Gold to the Rescue

Photo from this NYTimes article

The Super Bowl is 48 hours away. Pittsburgh is wetting itself. Sure, I've known a die-hard Colts fan or two in my life. I've lived in a state that claimed the New Orleans Saints (and then started calling them the Aints after too many disappointing seasons). My father was given the opportunity to go pro after college football if he agreed to gain 70+ pounds. (My dad's metabolism just doesn't work that way). So, I'm not totally out of sync with all-matters-football. But I have never experienced the sheer mania that comes along with living in Steelers Country. 

I'm often annoyed with this city's team spirit. Not only was Charles practically threatened to be beaten up by a robust female co-worker if he didn't wear the team's colors to work the Friday before the playoffs, Pittsburgh Public Schools will be delayed two hours on Monday, Feb. 2. The website notice prefaces this upcoming delay with, "For the safety of our students..." when it should read, "Because our teachers may be too hungover from game festivities to get to work on time and because we can't have teachers vomiting on their pupils..." You know a city's football culture is big when the superintendent, using hindsight as her guide, proactively cuts the school's hours the Monday after the big game - win or no win.

I'm tired of the bee-colored scarves, loud bumper stickers, matching stocking caps. I loath the yellow jerseys, yellow yard flags, yellow towels. (I'll probably get in trouble for saying yellow instead of gold.) But that loathing was before today, before I found out that the Steelers' mustardy gold "Terrible Towel" actually serves a purpose.

Fans can't get enough of these towels. They hang limply on cubicle walls. They are fashioned to windows and lockers and rear ends. Mostly, they can be found within a tightly gripped fist swinging round and round like a lasso. I'm fairly certain the Terrible Towel does everything except dry or wipe things down. 

But, that's okay. These towels are providing tens of thousands of dollars each month to Allegheny Valley School, a nonprofit system of group homes across the state that provide programs and residences to people (10-90 year olds) with severe developmental and intellectual disabilities. Economic crisis or not, AVS runs strong thanks to late Myron Cope (longtime Pittsburgh broadcaster), who invented the towel in 1975 and handed over the towel's trademark in 1996. Thus, virtually all proceeds from towel sales go directly to AVS, who pledged to use the money to assist residents, rather than fund construction projects. Cope's decision was personal: his 41 year old son Danny has resided at AVS since he was 2. 

With the Super Bowl comes the opportunity to sell ridiculous amounts of Terrible Towels, and a Steelers victory is projected to produce 500,000 orders from fans - meaning a hefty check to continue supporting Allegheny Valley School. 

I am not one to purchase sports paraphernalia of any kind. Count me out for jerseys, jackets and hats. But I may just buy a Terrible Towel - at least I'd know it has a story and a purpose. And maybe I'd inch a little closer to welcoming this football-crazed town as my home.

The Principal's Office

Thanks to this fabulously sequenced blog, I learned about a show called The Principal's Office which airs on TruTV Friday nights at 10PM. Shot in the style of the mock-umentary CHALK (a definite must-see for school staff of any sort), The Principal's Office captures those classically awkward real-time moments when a student is summoned for disciplinary action. The best thing about this show is that it features real principals and real students from real schools. I have a feeling I don't get this channel, so I'll contently watch clips from my computer.

There's just nothing like enforcing the dress code AND a kid who openly acknowledges his ODD (just warms my heart - chains and all!) ...

And if you haven't seen CHALK - check out the trailer (those are real statistics, people) ...

Obama "Effect" on Test Takers

This NYTimes article, Study Sees an Obama Effect as Lifting Black Test-Takers, is a bit startling. It's exciting, don't get me wrong, but it leaves me unsettled and wondering how its message might be interpreted in schools where the teaching quality already wanes. 

Researchers have documented this "Obama effect" via a 20 question test given to black and white students both before and after Obama's nomination. Before Obama's nomination, a typical achievement gap emerged as white students' scores proved significantly higher than black students' scores. After Obama's nomination, that same 20 question test given to both black and white students yielded results that showed no sign of an achievement gap between the two groups of students. Black students performed significantly higher that time around. According to the article, the research indicates that Obama has "helped blacks overcome anxieties about racial stereotypes that had been shown, in earlier research, to lower the test- taking proficiency of African Americans..." Specifically, the earlier test results (Pre-Obama) showed white students answering 12 correct out of 20 compared to only 8.5 correct for black students. Post-Obama, black performance improved, which rendered that former "white-black gap 'statistically nonsignificant'".

Further studies will prove whether this phenomenon has a lasting effect. It makes sense to link anxiety, self-image and expectations to test performance. But, how could mending self-esteem possibly reverse all the effects of teachers who preach low expectations in their classrooms? How could this one factor (momentous and signifiant as his presidency may be) reverse the failed policy and accountability and teacher quality that has been at the core of the achievement gap from the start?

I want these results to be true. I want these results to translate to all pockets of the classroom, including all the high-stakes standardized tests that hold students back from the next grade. But, I don't want this study to discount the work we still have to do on the ground. I'm a believer that Obama means amazing things, but he shouldn't mean that the only thing holding black students back in the classroom was the absence of an African American's presence in the White House. That would discount the legislation and leadership Obama has to offer. It would make the mending of our deep and cavernous achievement gap simple and finished. This study is interesting. And it's really important. But it seems to imply that the achievement (or lack of achievement) of African American students simply resides in a student's self-esteem or ability to be inspired or his sheer willpower to achieve. And isn't it much, much more complicated than that? 

14. Throw One Back

Teachers with Tequila, 2007

"Pencils Down, Bottoms Up" is a brilliant opinion piece for all teachers and former teachers to enjoy. Alexander Nazaryan discusses a ritual of many teachers, young and old alike: visiting the local bar and throwing a few back. Why do teachers drink? Nazaryan explains...

The classroom is the bully pulpit from which we articulate an ironclad triumvirate of maturity – attention, organization, responsibility – that the real world renders pretty much unrealistic. In the bar, we finally loosen our ties, and life’s beautiful imperfections return.

Nazaryan, a young teacher himself, scouted out a local establishment close to school where he and his colleagues could throw a few back. That was, until his students spied him through the windows. The teacher group relocated to a darker, drapes-drawn type of bar in the East Village. That was, until the squirrelly TFAers drove them away...

But the bar was near a large middle school, and it routinely filled up with the feisty teachers who braved those hormone hurricanes. The wear showed in their drinking habits. Teach for America became Drink for America. Spill Your Beer for America. Shout and Shove for America. Many of these fresh-faced pedagogues sported golf shirts emblazoned with their school name, disconcertingly similar to the uniforms students often wear. They snapped triumphant pictures of empty bottles, turning the bar into Spring Break: Costa del Bushwick. Our timid, slightly older group felt like the unpopular kids with nowhere to sit at lunch.

So they settled on a more anonymous, dim-lighted sort of bar where they offered to help set up in order to enter before the bar technically opened. 

This piece reminds me of all our southern establishments - Zippy's (southern punch margarita please?) and Superior Grill (happy hour two for one margarita hold the salt please?) and Bistro Byronz (raspberry vodka freeze please?). But, best of all, it reminds me of the adventures, the escapes, the frivolously planned excursions involving glittery costumes and Ragini's accessories and really really big sunglasses. 

The NYTimes piece is more about the community than the booze. It's about the little hideaways and long conversations that have nothing or everything to do with the chaotic confetti that spewed about your classroom that day. It's about being in those proverbial trenches with others and then hoisting yourself out of those trenches, plopping down on a stool or a porch, decompressing, and filling up on good conversation and, if you choose, a stiff cold one.

Cheers!

Teachers with Margaritas, 2005

13. Write Letters

On the way home we stopped in Alabama and bought a new puppy. We named him Cation since we bought him on vacation. - A.H.

Something wonderful happened today. I shuffled down the steps to check the mail, certain that I'd retrieve a fistful of grocery store coupons, desperate pleas to sign up for new credit cards, monthly bills - the usual. But what I hand picked out of the mailbox was so enjoyable, so wonderful, that I stood goofy grinned in my apartment as if I'd just received an Ivy League acceptance letter.

A.H., former-student-extraordinaire, sent me not only a one-page typed letter, but photographs too. A school photo, naturally. And the greatest photo of all - A. holding a baby alligator with its mouth taped with some sort of duct/electrical/packing tape combo. 

In other fantastic news besides the puppy named Cation, A. reported on a hermit crab, a lost wedding ring to the ocean, two dead hermit crabs, a fractured knee cap and wrist, snow in Louisiana, horse camp (twice), a Wii, a language class he's really "ticked off" about, and a failed Confirmation test at church. You know, just ordinary occurrences for a Middle School year.

I just love this kid. So much so that I don't even care that he typed Ms. Fields. Twice. He said he hopes I'll move back and teach high school so that I can be his teacher again. Man. Who knew that such a strong boost of confidence could come from this unlikely, squirmy, adolescent source?

P.S. This is how I imagine the baby alligator's face when being held by Mr. A.H.

12. Get Justice

A quick note to follow up my post called "Be Aware, Read the Fine Print" ...

So, after feeling like a total sucker for getting roped into that freecreditreport.com service that I did not use but paid for for a year, I submitted a complaint to the Better Business Bureau. Fully prepared to just bite the lost money and get over it, this morning a notice arrived by email stating that the BBB had my back and the company would be issuing a full year's REFUND! Can it be that a sleazy company is actually forced to pay up when a consumer feels cheated!? 

Bottom line: The bombs and the sleazes are still out there. But so are those who give the bombs and sleazes a swift kick in the pants when they've been naughty.

Studying Adolescence

"So let's go around the room, introduce ourselves, and share something about our adolescence, okay?" Last night, in a nationality room of the Cathedral of Learning, a group of adults began class by reminiscing about that awkward chunk of time somewhere between the years of 8 and 18. A few had examples of acting out: "I frequently took my parents' car without their permission." and "I was a bully." Some proclaimed their sainthood: "I was a really quiet goody goody." Others discussed their activities: hair modeling, tennis, cheerleading.

Since 2005, adolescence has consumed a large portion of my brain. Memories of the late 90s, Pioneer Panthers, and Retin-A acne medicine moved aside to include my often quirky and wacky 6th grade students. So, when asked to recall a memory from adolescence, I immediately and instinctively sorted through my Southeast catalogue. I remembered the socially awkward times like B. throwing up twice on the first day of school and V.'s you know what in the middle of a lesson on prepositions. I remembered glimpses of identity and world view formation like when J.J. came out in his IEP meeting and when K. tried desperately to figure out the ethnicity of the new girl as he questioned, "Is you a mix?" I remembered all the notes intercepted, the girl drama, the boys who punched each other in the face. Yet, in the midst of the confusion and theatrics, there was some genuine enlightenment going on. I think. 

But the question asked me to recall my adolescence, and everything (even being bullied by C. from two doors down) seemed lame compared to the topsy turvy adolescence I lived as a teacher. So, I said, "I learned how to play the flute as an adolescent. And I joined the band." Weak. Nerdy. And so not filled with the angst and attitude that's to be expected...

But, I'm really excited for this semester. I'm taking my first ever graduate level Education class. I don't know anybody yet, but that's okay because the professor brought in chart paper and taped it around the room. We wrote on it with brightly colored markers that smelled like bubblegum and jolly ranchers. The only thing missing (and really bringing it home to TFA) was a "gallery walk"- but the chart paper and markers made me feel like I was back in education, back around people who want education at the forefront of their careers. And we're going to really dig in to the theory and psychology of adolescence, which I have decided will be great fuel for my writing.  

The experts will prove me wrong, but I'm convinced we twenty-somethings are a part of some sort of extended-adolescence. Sure, the growth spurts have stopped, the braces have been removed and the acne has calmed down. But the awkward identity formation, the confusion, the flux between angst and apathy and plain silliness...

...seems too familiar.