Guest column: Fundraisers have definitely changed significantly | Opinion - The Puyallup Herald

Guest column: Fundraisers have definitely changed significantly Opinion - The Puyallup Herald

My fellow 2011 Herald Guest Columnist, Diane Johnson wrote this piece about a topic near to my heart.

What are the limits on a teacher's time?

A teacher at "Education Nation" suggested that union rules regarding the teaching day limited her ability to meet the needs of her students and she just wanted to "do my job." She wondered why she wasn't allowed to bring students in on Saturday to do extra tutoring with those who needed it.

My simple question to her is: Where do you put limits on your time? Most teachers I know, myself included, put in time beyond the contract. Today I worked one hour forty-five minutes beyond my contractual obligation. On this past Sunday I spent three plus hours in my classroom grading papers and planning. I also scored papers at home on Saturday and Sunday. I brought home more papers to score tonight.

When I was a young teacher, I put in many more hours than I do now. Of course, I was living away from family and friends, and had no social life to speak of then. Now I'm older and have a wife and son. My energy level is not what it was. Tell me, what is a reasonable expectation of my time as a professional? Do I reach my limit when I drop dead?

Bootstraps

Many people have succeeded in life by pulling themselves up by their bootstraps, as the saying goes. These people are to be admired for their determination and grit. We often use the same phrase as a suggestion to those who are struggling. "You just need to get up off your duff and pull yourself up by your bootstraps!" some have been heard to say. The problem is that not everyone has bootstraps, or boots for that matter.

Seventy years ago this June 11 my Dad, Harold Clifton Brown, graduated first in his class from West Point. Born the first son of an electrical engineer and a Norwegian immigrant who had briefly written for silent films, things looked pretty bright for his future from the start. He soon had two brothers to play with and his parents were doing pretty well providing for the boys. His dad, Harold senior, worked for Pennsylvania Power and Light. He was called "Brownie" by Grandma Brown, and she took care of the boys and the home. When Dad was about six, Brownie died of a sudden illness, leaving Grandma to provide and care for three young boys. It was 1924.

Through the worst of the Great Depression Grandma Brown worked hard and raised the boys. Dad did pretty well in school, except in the area of conduct.

Third column from the left is Conduct, preceded by attendance numbers. According to the scale it was his worst area.

Yep, Dad was a bad boy with potential. This was recognized by U.S.Senator Fred Brown (No relation. And no relation to the former Seattle SuperSonic.) of New Hampshire who appointed Dad to the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, New York.

Dad continued to work hard once at West Point and in the end was incredibly successful. He served in World War II with the Corps of Engineers, earned a Master's Degree in Nuclear Science at the University of Chicago after the war, and eventually retired as a Colonel. He went on to work fifteen years as an analyst for Boeing.

Funniest caption ever.

So dad had a bit of a rough start, but his life by most standards was successful. He certainly pulled himself up by his bootstraps, wouldn't you say?

In no way do I consider myself the success Dad was. I went to college, reluctantly. My record as an undergrad was undistinguished. I flailed around at a variety of jobs for six years afterwards. Something finally clicked and I got my teaching credentials with a 3.74 GPA. Since then I've been gainfully employed as an elementary school teacher. But I didn't pull myself up by my bootstraps. Couldn't find them. So how did I get where I am? I'm white, male, grew up in an upper middle-class community, and I'm the son of a very successful father and saintly mother. Had but one of those puzzle pieces been missing I might be missing too (See Depression).

So when I hear or read about people using examples of others overcoming long odds to "make something out of themselves" to justify criticism of those who fail at same, I get agitated. Sometimes I even get hot under the collar. On rare occasions it gets my back and my dander up. Way, way up. If someone opines that you should stay out of the kitchen if you can't stand the heat, well, better make yourself scarce, because that's one too many cliches.

Sometimes people need help to simply lead a normal life. We all are products of our families, communities, nations, and genetics. Fortune determines the variety and quantity of each. Genetics can impact ambition, health, and talent. Our families impact our self-image, values, and attitudes. Community and nation provide opportunity, resources, and security. If fortune is kind we find it easier to make our way in the world. If fortune shorts us in one or more areas we struggle a bit more. If too much is missing, ambition can find little room to grow.

So, when I see the alcololic homeless man vomiting by the side of the road I try not to judge him. I don't call him "loser." I see the me that might have been had my circumstances been slightly different.

For Tacoma teachers, seniority rules | Education News - The News Tribune

I wrote about this issue recently.

Anger, Part II

In the paper this morning: "blobs of tar washed up at an Alabama beach full of swimmers... the ominous arrival of the sticky substance at Dauphin Island, Ala."

It took longer than I expected, and I didn't expect it to be the first landing spot, but there it is. Our friends on Dauphin Island have suffered the loss of one home (totally washed out to sea by Katrina), and severe damage to a second (flooded by Ivan) in hurricanes, now this. I can't imagine it won't get worse.

This photo, taken in April 2005 shows Mississippi Sound, which is between the island and the mainland. Right of center is an oil drilling platform. To the left of it near the center you may be able to make out the profile of a ship, probably an oil tanker. Flying in formation in the upper right corner are a half dozen Brown Pelicans, one of the species most impacted by DDT and removed from the endangered species list just last autumn.

Anger

I'm angry at British Petroleum. That iconic "BP" logo that I first noticed in movies and images of motor sports events is now nothing more than a symbol of corporate greed and irresponsibility. Human beings died, now wildlife is dying and our tax dollars go to work to clean up "Big Petroleum's" mess. We don't even know what the scope of this disaster will be.

Five years ago I stood on a beach on Dauphin Island, Alabama watching Northern Gannets diving far offshore into Mississippi Sound. You may have seen film of them on Discovery or PBS in the past. They start the dive high above the water. As they near the surface they fold back their wings, extend their necks, and plunge dagger-like into the water in pursuit of their prey. This occurs in large flocks and is a spectacular sight to see. There was a photo in the paper the other day of a worker cleaning the oil from the feathers of a Northern Gannet. Dauphin Island is directly north of the source of the spill. Enough said.

Teaching is Not a Life Commitment

When I was a new teacher I spent an average of ten hours a day at school. That does not include weekends, when I often put in an additional half-day. I would arrive in the morning before most staff, other than the chief custodian. I would stay late and have a fast-food dinner on the way home. Not the best for my health, but I didn't really think about it. I was thirty-one, in good health, full of energy, and single. I was also three thousand miles from home, so I had no social life. Many of my colleagues were married so I didn't hang out with them. The single ones were not so new to teaching as I, and we really didn't have much else in common.

After that first year, I moved home and eventually went to work for my current employer. As the years went by, I continued to put in long hours at school. I also remained single. The average length of work-day gradually decreased, but not rapidly. When I turned forty, still a single man, I thought, "I'm still not married, but no biggie. I'm a good guy, educated, have a steady job, own a house, and I like kids. Ummmm, why am I not meeting eligible women?"

To make a long story short, I'm now married. We have a healthy, energetic five year old son. Really, really energetic. We have a house with a yard, both of which need upkeep. We both have families, friends, and interests which need attention. I still arrive at work earlier than required, leave later than required, and I work on weekends, but the hours are fewer. I don't expect to ever be recognized as a star educator. I'm no Jaime Escalante. I don't want to be. What I want is to be recognized for what I do well. Then I want to be told, with manners and respect for my education, experience, and humanity, what I need to do better. I want to be given a chance to fix those weaknesses in a way that makes sense to me. I don't want to feel manipulated by legislation, bureaucrats, or politicians, and most of all, I don't want to be the target of threats, insults, or intimidation by educational leaders or parents. That's not an unreasonable expectation, is it?

Depression

I am not religious. I haven't attended church on a regular basis since I was about fifteen years old. To that point I was a Roman Catholic. I had gone through Confirmation and First Holy Communion. I even tithed, intermittently anyway. There was a certain comfort in childhood in attending church on Sundays, going to midnight mass on Christmas Eve, or being smudged with ashes on Ash Wednesday.

Mom was a devout Catholic and I know she wanted her children to be the same. I think it's safe to say that none of us turned out as such. Because Dad was not a Catholic I did not face much pressure as I began drifting away from church. I know Mom wasn't happy, but there was no anger. She just looked sad. I never spoke to her about my reasons and she never asked. She died of breast cancer six years later.

What it came down to was unhappiness. I seldom felt really, truly joyful as a child and a young teen. Doing all the right things in my church never made any difference. Happy times always seemed to be experienced through a filter of haze. While I had a few close friends, many of my peers teased me, especially as I began to gain weight through my obsession with junk food and television. Thankfully, time has helped me understand what I now believe caused that hazy filter. Depression.

About ten or so years ago, listening to my future wife describe her own symptoms and experience with depression I realized it sounded much too familiar. I had never had a name for it until then, had no way of asking for support because I didn't understand and I feared being judged.

A few years earlier, after months of the worst symptoms, I described my experience to my doctor. He had no clue whatsoever. No diagnosis. Nothing. I went back to the same doctor after learning about depression, and asked him if I might have depression. He gave me a brief questionnaire, reviewed it, and gave me a prescription. That first prescription actually made my symptoms worse, but things have gotten better over the years. I've since changed health care providers.

I could not even begin to tell you how many people have tried to draw me into their religion over the years.  My thin veneer of normalcy did not conceal my core of sadness, making me an obvious target. Let's start with the Hare Krishna in San Francisco in 1974 when I was seventeen who called me a "far-out guy." I walked away with a book I didn't want and less money than I started with, but I was too polite to say no. Then there was the time a high school buddy and I were approached outside the Seattle Scientology office, and asked to take a "personality test." When they found out we were under age they quickly moved on. There have been more Jehovah's Witnesses than I can begin to count. Once, a JW woman came to my parents' house offering literature. Strangely, I came to know her several years later as the bride to be of my step brother, also a JW. Nice enough people, but why do their churches tend to be window-free? Not a good fit for claustrophobics. I sat next to a Mormon missionary on a Greyhound during my freshman year in college. Once he knew there was no chance of me converting, we were able to discuss music for the rest of the trip. When I was thirty I ended a seven year friendship because he could not stop proselytizing. I had been one of his groomsmen. I question that decision to this day, but I feel talked down to anytime people treat me as though I've had no experience with or knowledge of their religion. Ultimately, it wasn't religion that helped me take the first step on the road to wellness, it was knowledge.

Then there are the people who simply practice their beliefs with no expectation that those around them be anything other than what they are. If anyone will bring me back to church it is these people. They treat non-believers like human beings, not objects to be manipulated. They lead with their joy. They live their lives fully and meaningfully, setting an example which your average televangelist cannot. They will never carry garishly colored signs with cruel messages at the funerals of fellow Americans who gave their lives in hopes of  preserving freedom of speech. You won't see them blowing themselves up in a crowded public space on the evening news. And they won't beg for your money to support their "ministry" on channel 96 at 2 a.m. More than anything else, they won't call for a "holy war" or burn heretics and witches, real or imagined, at the stake.

During my most recent depression flare-up I made a 40 mile drive to visit with an old friend. I made a point of it because I knew the support of friends and family is an important element in the treatment of this illness. My friend is the minister of a Presbyterian church in an urban area. I couldn't have predicted such an outcome for him thirty-five years ago. As we enjoyed lunch at a neighborhood cafe he listened patiently to my story and was very supportive. Not once did he suggest that I make any spiritual changes in my life. He simply affirmed my feelings and concerns. After lunch we drove back to his church. I had brought along my camera equipment because I wanted to take some pictures of the interior of the beautiful church. He left me there as he headed off to an appointment. I stayed another thirty minutes or so, inside a church of my own volition, not as a guest at a wedding, or a mourner, or tourist, for the first time in almost forty years.

Using the Sandbox

This morning I saw a cat using the sandbox, and by sandbox I don't mean litter box. In a neighbor's yard is a child's sandbox and in the child's sandbox was a cat. The cat was scratching in the sand, and you know what that means: Little gifts awaiting the children who play in that sandbox. This is not an isolated incident. Cats find these play areas to have perfect conditions for their potty needs.

Other perfect kitty commodes include flower beds, vegetable patches, and garden paths, but that doesn't end the opportunities for cats to do damage to your property. Young trees and fence posts make wonderful scratching posts. Your car's tires are a perfect target for their spray, not to mention the paint!

I gotta tell ya', there's nothing quite like weeding the garden and unexpectedly grabbing a fistful of cat crap. There is also nothing like the "magnificence" of watching a well-fed, pampered, healthy feline stalking its feathered prey, pouncing on it, then tormenting it for twenty minutes or so until it finally, mercifully, and needlessly, dies.

Of course, there are controls for wandering cats. They're called coyotes, stray dogs, busy streets, leaking antifreeze, cat hating humans in three ton vehicles, and occasionally, large raptors. When I was in third grade, I visited a classmate's farm and saw the damage done by a barn owl. Several dead kittens were scattered around the property in various states of wholeness. I was horrified to see one with its eye hanging out of its socket. That image is still pretty vivid 45 years later.

None of this is necessary. If you love your cat, keep it indoors. Build it an enclosure if you must let it go outside, or leash train it. I've seen it done.

Could you be a communist and not realize it?

We've been hearing a lot about the "socialist agenda" of President Obama. Forcing people to buy health insurance? Socialism! Bailing out the failing banks? Socialism! Saving GM? Socialism! Friendly to organized labor? Socialism!

I once had a conversation with a relative regarding a large corporation which had recently moved its headquarters from its historic home to a new city half a continent away. I saw this as a sign that the corporation did not care about the community which had been part of its growth and success. In addition, I believed this was a move designed to put distance between executives and the unions representing the bulk of its employees. It was clear my relative dislikes unions, and he suggested that giving too much power to organized labor is just a step away from communism.

His comment really upset me. I am very liberal politically, but I am absolutely anti-communist. The reason is the atrocious human rights records of communist nations, including China. In fact, I am strongly opposed to any government which curtails the basic rights outlined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Dictators, authoritarian regimes, military juntas, or any form of government which uses intimidation, torture, incarceration, terror, or other methods to cow its citizens into passive compliance deserves no respect from people who value justice, equality, dignity, life, speech, art, or other features of a free society.

So, to those of you who think that our president is a closet commie, take a look in the mirror. Then take a look around you. That new flat-screen TV you treasure may have been made by communists. Those inexpensive toys your children are playing with? They are likely touched by the skilled hands of commie labor. Okay, I know some of them may have been made in non-communist places like Mexico or Singapore, but they have their own issues of repression to resolve.

I think the U.S. Senate needs to start an investigation into this subversive group of activists. Are they hiding their true nature by accusing the president of being the very thing they are? Could they be... communists?

Health Care Reform - Maybe

What I like about the health care bill:

• No denial of coverage for preexisting conditions.
• No dropping of coverage for people who become sick.
• More people will have coverage.

What I hate about the health care bill:

• People will be forced to buy coverage from insurance companies, because there is no non-corporate or non-profit option.
• There are still people who will not get coverage.
• Other things I can't think of at the moment!

Horned Grebe at Marine Park in Tacoma

Horned Grebe
Originally uploaded by M.B.Brown

It was a gray Sunday, but a pair of very cooperative Horned Grebes led to this photo. The two were foraging fairly close together. One had started its transition to breeding plumage, this one still in winter plumage.

As I was leaving, a yellow lab drove them farther out from shore as it swam toward them. I don't know what the rules are at Marine Park, but I suspect it's not meant to be an off-leash area!

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

School success isn’t about race; it’s about parents | Other voices - The News Tribune

School success isn’t about race; it’s about parents Other voices - The News Tribune

This is an enlightening piece in the News Tribune.

Tired of Education by Legislation

The Washington State Legislature is busy working on new ed "reform." Fifteen years ago or so, when I was still relatively new to education, that was the first time they laid "reform" on me. At that point they gave us the EALRs and the WASL. I was happy because I saw this as a more "authentic" measure of student progress, unlike the "bubble tests" popular at the time. Kids with learning disabilities struggled with those tests, trying to track where to mark their answers on the answer sheets. That was just plain cruel.

Now, after years I can describe only as miserable while trying to meet those standards, I am eager to see WASL's behind slinking down the hallway in utter failure. Veteran teachers I worked with at the dawn of WASL predicted it would eventually be gone and forgotten. They were right, but it took longer than they expected. I am anxious to see what takes its place.

Of course, my confidence has taken a major hit in recent years as I struggled to get my students up to snuff in the key subject areas, especially after the push of the Education and Secondary Education Act, otherwise known as "No Child Left Behind." I shall stick with the official title, abbreviated as ESEA. All I can say is, if the head cheerleader for ESEA is a model for what we hope for its goals, good luck. Test scores, especially a single, high stakes test given once a year are not the best way to measure the growth of children. The results of such tests are no way to measure the effectiveness of a teacher, either.

A few years back, I was singled out because my class did well on the Reading part of the WASL. I was quizzed as to my teaching methods, and it seemed I was thought of as some sort of fount of wisdom. The same year, my students' Math scores tanked. My response was, "If I take credit for those reading scores, I have to take credit for the math scores. No thank you. There are too many other variables at work here."

So, now I'm in the position of wondering, "When will this latest legislation fade into the black hole of "reform."

Birding or Bird Watching?

I have yet to really embrace the verb "to bird." I grew up knowing it as bird watching because that's what Dad called it. Many bird enthusiasts have embraced the verb, as well as the noun "birder." I tolerated that for some time, but not now.

About twelve years ago I took the Master Birding course from my local chapter of Audubon. It was a great course, with the identification classes taught by Dennis Paulson, a nationally recognized authority on shorebirds. Upon finishing the course, I was officially a Master Birder. Cool.

About four years later I was meeting some neighbors of my in-laws. One of them found my being a Master Birder to be quite hilarious, due to the fact that the term sounds similar to an activity not usually discussed in polite company. I am no longer a Master Birder. Nor am I a Master Bird Watcher. I'm just a bird watcher.

Even though I completed a course which entitled me to the rating of master, I've never really felt like a master. Advanced intermediate maybe, but not master. Frankly, I don't know how some of my classmates have found the time in their lives to get the bird identification practice needed to become as proficient as some of them have. I'm more than just a little jealous!

Winter Hummingbirds

I continue to be amazed at the resiliance of the Anna's Hummingbird. One or more always seem to hang around my feeder throughout the winter. When the weather turns really cold (around here that means anything below freezing) I always expect they will disappear and not return. I don't understand why these birds don't freeze solid in such weather. Those tiny little bodies, they have so little mass to them. Wouldn't they lose heat so quickly as to become hypothermic during the long cold night?

Thinking of this reminds me once again of the complexity and fragility of our world, and the impact we have on it. Humans have made more negative impacts on the natural systems and cycles of Earth than any other living thing. In fact the only thing I can think of that possibly can eclipse human despoliation of the planet is an asteroid impact or our Sun reaching supernova status.

There is one thing which makes an impact greater than any. Our global population is now beyond six billion individual lives, yet their are so many among those masses who believe they must procreate beyond all practical guidelines. Often they believe so for religious reasons, sometimes they are driven by perceived economic benefits. In wealthy nations they can afford to say, "I want to have lots of kids!" just because it sounds fun or is thought to be rewarding in some non-economic way. And our government rewards such thinking through yearly tax credits.

Then there is the philosophy that we must have a continuously growing population to keep our economy healthy, which I have long believed sounds like the biggest pyramid scheme in the history of the world. Or maybe it's the purveyors of actual pyramid schemes who advance this plan as a way to ensure there continued economic security. But it's always the ones at the bottom of the pyramid who wind up suffering, and in the global pyramid those will be the impoverished and powerless.

Romney's Religion Speech

Mitt Romney today defended his Mormon faith in public. Among other things he argued that many citizens are trying to remove use of the word "God" from the public arena. He went on to say, "It is as if they are intent on establishing a new religion in America -- the religion of secularism. They are wrong."

What Romney has forgotten is that there are religions which do not believe in "God." Buddhists do not have a capital G "God," although I understand some elevate Buddha to the status of a god. Shintoists also lack the capital G "God," as do the Taoists and Confucianists (alright, I admit their is some debate about whether the latter group is actually part of a religion). There are others who practice religions with no god, capital G or otherwise. Removing the word "God" from the public arena would be fair, not secular.

Religious Reactionaries

The latest radical Islamic brouhaha occurring in Sudan convinces me more than ever that religious conservatives of any stripe are out of their minds. In our country they call themselves things like Moral Majority and Aryan Nations. In Afghanistan they are known as the Taliban, and the only thing preventing our zealots from ruling like the former leaders of that nation is something called the Constitution of the United States.

I remember well when I first learned of the atrocities being committed in Afghanistan in the name of Islam. The law or principles known as Sharia were responsible for the justification of public beheadings and chopping off hands. I first saw a picture of an Afghan man holding up a hand dangling from a string, sporting a very pleased grin. Another picture showed a woman dressed in a burkha on her knees in the street being verbally attacked by men for whatever her perceived immoral behavior was. Judgement was passed summarily in Afghanistan in those bad old days, not much opportunity for legal appeal.

A British teacher is in jail in Sudan presently for allowing her students to name a stuffed bear "Mohammed." This is perceived as an insult to Islam. She was sentenced to fifteen days in jail, which is apparently pretty horrific in Sudan. She could have faced forty lashes, and today protesters filled the streets calling for her execution.

When the American press referred to the young California man captured while fighting for the enemy in Afghanistan as "the American Taliban," my first thought was, "No! Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson are the American Taliban!" Truly, if people of their ilk could have their way America would quickly become as medieval as any conservative Islamic Republic. My wife once dated a man who told her that according to the bible all homosexuals should be killed. He is also an American Taliban. Members of the Westboro Baptist Church, who run a website called GodHatesFags.com, among other bigoted activities could also be potential members of our Taliban.

Do you have any nominees for the American Taliban?

Those Rotten Seattle People!

This morning in a local paper a reader whined about the passage of HJR 4204. The whining was aimed at Seattle, the great satan of Washington state. Anytime a statewide office goes to a Democrat, or a ballot issue perceived as "liberal" passes, the shrill complaining begins. "Seattle has too much power!" It's not fair that the Seattle liberals always get what they want!" Cue the tantrum.

The reader in question proposed that a change be made to our state legislative system. Rather than each legislative district electing two representatives and one senator, that senators be elected by county. This certainly would reflect the makeup of the U.S. Congress, but that's not necessarily good. Any time you give a group power disproportionate to its size, you have an unfair situation. I would rather see our legislature go unicameral than switch to the county senator system.

One common argument for the supermajority is that it is needed to "protect property owners." In fact, the only people it protects are people opposed to any issue which requires more than a fifty-percent plus one majority to pass.

What makes me happiest about the victory of 4204 is knowing that school levy opponents may finally have to actively campaign to get what they want. For years school staff have been asked to donate money and time to pass school levies. This change in law eases some of the pressure on them and transfers it to the people who want to eliminate a major source of school funding.

Please, don't suggest that the legislature "fully funding" education is the solution to the levy problem, not getting rid of the supermajority. I would be entirely happy to get rid of levies altogether if the legislature ever comes up with a fair system to fully fund K-12 education in Washington. Until then, the simple majority should rule.