A Political Point

Just a thought, but is anybody else disturbed by Sarah Palin justifying her $150,000 wardrobe by saying that it will all be donated to charity?

I would have rather heard that the money spent on her designer suits wasn't coming from taxpayers; it came from the Republican National Committee and they can decide how to spend campaign money, whether it be on a big stage or on a $3000 jacket. In a way, that would have made more sense: both committees, Democratic and Republican, probably spend thousands of dollars on event details that, if revealed, wouldn't look like they were spending money wisely. But, the truth is, image is a huge part of the campaign, and if Sarah Palin needed a wardrobe overhaul, then she needed a wardrobe overhaul. Just say that, and explain that the Republicans believed that was a good way to spend their money. Whether it's donated to charity or not, that's what the $150,000 was used for. When people gave money to the Republicans, that's what it went towards, bottom line, whether the clothes get donated or not. Maybe those people can feel good that their donation was a charity donation in the end. I don't know.

What I do know is that it's outrageous to make a claim that donating $150,000 worth of designer clothes is a valid justification for spending the money on them, and that should be the end of it. In my opinion, that's a ridiculous idea. What homeless person needs a designer pantsuit? Can you really see a basketful of Escada jackets being a meaningful donation at a shelter? People always think that if they say they're donating to charity, all is going to be okay. It doesn't matter what is being donated; it's the point that something is. That's bullshit. Listen, Sarah Palin, if you're going to donate $150,000 worth of something to charity, how about $150,000 worth of non-perishable food items? Or sneakers? Or socks? Or sweatshirts? Or winter jackets? That's a useful, meaningful donation that would make a difference to people. Giving someone struggling a silk blazer isn't going to keep them warm during the winter.

I get that items donated to charity benefit more people than the truly homeless or the most destitute. And I also understand the value of giving even the poorest people the nicest things. Perhaps giving someone a Prada jacket will really be a nice gesture. I don't say no, but that isn't what's happening here. It's not like they bought her a couple suits and she's saying she doesn't really need them, so she'll donate them to charity. This all came out of a huge uproar that they spent that much money on her and her royal family (that Piper chick's been looking pretty stylish if you ask me. She's not sporting any Osh Kosh B'Gosh). Just because they're donating it doesn't mean it isn't an absurd amount of money. And just because they're donating it doesn't make it a really great or valuable thing.

This whole campaign, Sarah Palin's been out there saying she's not like all the other politicians. She's just like us! ... Except she gets to parade around in designer clothes and take her family on state-sponsored vacations that are paid for by her taxpayers (who are busy enough with their Gordon's Fisherman trade missions with Russia).

Obviously, everyone's been making fun of her for her botched interviews, and rightfully so, but in the last few weeks, it seems like her entire public and political persona has become even more of a trainwreck (if that's even possible). It seemed like her supporters could defend her stupidity as the media being too tough on her (though asking what newspapers you read... maybe mocking,but certainly not tough; and if you're really a pitbull, and you really did read the newspaper, wouldn't you fire right back at Katie Couric? I would have. I would have told her that question insulted me and I would have gone on to tell her exactly which newspapers I read. Of course, telling Katie Couric that she reads the Two Mills Gazette and The Enquirer... probably not the best choice, either.).

Anyway, in recent weeks though, they found that she acted inappropriately with that whole thing with her brother-in-law's job, and then it was found that she had doctored up some old expense reports so that it seemed like her kids absolutely needed to be included in her five-star state travel plans and event appearances, and then people saw that had this major wardrobe overhaul, and suddenly it seems like she's just as shady as every other politician. The main problem with this, of course, is that her whole stance the entire campaign is that her inexperience on the national level is a good thing because it means that she's not corrupted and while experience can be gained, character is inherent. Tough to defend at this hour.

You know, early on, when the news of Sarah Palin's daughter, Bristol, being pregnant broke, there was another story circulating about how Palin's youngest son isn't really her kid. It's her grandkid - Bristol's first child - but Palin covered up the whole thing and pretended it was hers. I, like most people, dismissed this as a ridiculous tabloid story. They had a few things that made the story somewhat troubling - Bristol had taken off the entire spring semester from her school because of a mysterious illness, Palin didn't look or seem pregnant until she was seven months and then she abruptly announced it to her staff, and when she went into labor she flew and then drove like 14 hours back to some podunk hospital instead of going to a nearby one - but I still dismissed all of this. Sure, she was pretty dimwitted, and she was totally unprepared for this campaign, but that didn't make her a liar.

But that's the thing. With all the bad stuff that's come out about her, you can no longer dismiss everything. She's been shown to be a liar, and she's a manipulator. As my dad would say, she's bad news. And maybe the wardrobe will be donated and do some good for some people, but that doesn't change the fact that she has manipulated her way out of this. She got the clothes because she needed to project a certain image. Be upfront and honest about it. Say that it was a lot of money. Say that it takes a lot of money to present the image she wanted to. Say that she'll donate it to charity in the end. But just saying the last part, and implying that people questioning the expenditure are wrong because of the ultimate charitable donation, is manipulation. And that's the worst part, to me. It's worse than her spending the money in the first place. It's that she's not being honest about the whole thing.

Lyndon B. Johnson was known as being pretty straight-forward, and at one point, this aide was trying to make something sound better than it was. But he wasn't having any of it. "Listen," he told him. "I know the difference between chicken shit and chicken salad."

Well, me too.

Whoops

Afternoon homeroom is a notoriously chaotic time in my room. It always seems like kids need to go back to their lockers or ask me another question or talk to another teacher or go to the bathroom or track down a lost sweatshirt or just generally be an eleven year old, and the timing sucks because I'm trying to get everyone organized to go home and make any announcements for the next day. Plus, the kids are cooked, and the little patience I probably had at the beginning of the day is pretty much sapped. It's a pretty bad combination.

As a disclaimer, before we go any further, the name of the kid has been changed!

On Tuesday afternoon, we were experiencing the normal chaos, and I made a quick announcement reminding the kids that picture day was the next day so they should dress up and look nice.

One of the kids came up to me afterwards. "So I'm going to dress up tomorrow, right?" he asked.

"Yup," I told him.

He stared at me, blankly. "So... I'm going to dress up tomorrow then."

"Yes," I told him. Slight edge to the voice.

He repeated his question for a third time, this time very slow and deliberate with each word. "I'm. Going. To. Dress. Up. Tomorrow?"

"YES," I said, just as slowly, and I actually turned and walked away from him, my patience completely gone. Did he not hear me? I made some general announcement to the class that people need to listen the first time because I hate repeating directions. I felt bad losing my patience and walking away, because this kid is one of the nicest kids. He's this pudgy kid who doesn't say much but brings snacks to class parties and generally seems sort of happy to be here. He's in special education, so he's a little behind in getting directions. But three times to repeat the same question seemed excessive.

The next morning, I realized why he had repeated his question so many times to me.

As the kids came up for their morning homeroom time on picture day, this kid arrived in a full-on spandex Spiderman suit.

He came up to me, and I stifled a laugh. "Oh my god," I said.

"I asked YOU," he just said flatly.

"Oh my god," I repeated.

"This is the worst day of my life," he said dejectedly and walked away. "My mom's gonna kill me when she sees my picture!"

He had paid in advance, $20, for the picture package. I could only imagine his mother getting her wallet-sized pictures of this guy stuffed into his Spiderman suit. I felt awful. The kids weren't horrible to him, but still. How embarrassing.

All day, when I saw him, he just shook his head sadly. I tried to find him some extra clothes from the nurse's office, but apparently an admittedly ratty flannel shirt is worse than a Spiderman suit. I told him he could wear his jacket around the school, so with the heat on full blast, he walked around in a winter jacket and a spandex suit, sweating his poor ass off. I think he gave up at some point and just resigned himself to his fate.

I tried to make him feel better, but really, how can you? So I was set on getting him his money back. This turned out to be a little bit of a process. They told me they'd have his money for him on Thursday and he could take a make-up picture in January when everyone came back. This seemed like a good idea, even if the emotional scarring damage had probably been done.

Thursday when I arrived at school though, there was no $20 from the photo people (they'd decided to mail the check back to me to hold onto until January) and I didn't have enough cash on me. So I bought him an ice cream at lunch in the meantime. Not really going to fix anything, but I figured it couldn't hurt.

I was still feeling totally awful about this entire debacle, because the poor kid just seemed pretty dejected (and who wouldn't?!). After school though, I was helping a bunch of the kids with our fundraiser. We had sold "Boo Bags" that kids could buy for $1 each. A Boo Bag is a bag of candy that kids bought to be delivered to friends and teachers on Halloween. Yesterday we had to all get together to make all the bags and get them ready for delivery.

"Hey Miss," one of the girls helping called out. "Look who got you a Boo Bag!"

I went over and saw that the kid had gotten me a Boo Bag. The message on the card said: "hi miss c... even though you kind of ruined my life yesterday you still my best teacher. thanks for the ice cream but my mom says i need to loose wait because my spiderman suit almost didnt fit me. ps you will be a good mom someday cause i was real upset yesterday you made me smile a lot and think how it wasnt the end of the world (even though it kind of was)."

This made me laugh and feel sort of better about the whole thing, and I thought that all was well that ended (sort of) well. Then this morning, the kids showed up in their costumes.

One of the kids in my homeroom showed up in the same Spiderman suit that the original kid, Pierre, had worn Wednesday.

"Another Spiderman guy, huh?" I asked him.

"No," he deadpanned. "I'm Pierre on Picture Day."

The Lesson

This is what one of the kids wrote in her reading notebook a few weeks ago:

"While reading Lost and Found I maid a text to self connection. Becouse in the story her dad leaves them for another women without telling them thay had to figur out themselves. So I maid a connection to her dad leaving because my dad left when I was a baby with out saiying nothing and I have not seen him or herd from him sence. Making this connection made me relize I love my dad."

I happened to be reading this entry before a meeting, and another teacher was looking over my shoulder at it.

"Hmph," she sighed. "Looks like you got your work cut out for you."

I looked up at her.

"Grammar aside - bad enough - you can't even figure out what she's trying to say there."

Luckily, the meeting began and we didn't really have the opportunity to talk about it. The thing is, we're supposed to respond to their writing and correct it for grammar and ask questions that push them to think about how they can better express and organize their ideas. We're supposed to see a clear topic sentence, three supporting details, and a concluding sentence that connects back to how using their strategy helped them understand something more about a specific character, event, or idea in their reading. Clearly, this kid can't write for shit as a sixth grader and her ideas are jumbled. So this teacher's right: I have my work cut out for me.

Anyway, a few days later, we had to bring our kids' reading notebooks to a big meeting and talk about how to respond to their writing in a way that helps them become stronger writers and responders to their reading. It got me thinking about this girl's notebook.

Should I write:
- A, work on your spelling and grammar please. Remember to proofread.
- A, where are your text details? How do the characters figure out that their dad left? Are they sad? You need to include these.
- A, your response doesn't make much sense. How can you love your dad if he left without any notice and you haven't heard from him? Please explain.
- A, that's a nice but probably hard realization to have.

In the end, I went with a combination of the second and last one. I didn't even know if that was right, but it felt the closest to right, so that's what I did. And that's honestly how a lot of teaching is for me. Sometimes I don't know if what I'm doing is the best choice, but it's the best I know, and I always hope that the kids will know my intentions and heart were in the right place, even if it doesn't come out that way.

There are moments when you're in front of a group of sixth graders when you think you're not speaking the same language because nobody's responding to anything you're saying. And your patience can snap when six of them decide to put up their chairs in the loudest way possible and you hear the loud slams of the seats against the desks. And when one of them turns around and their huge backpack knocks down the chairs just slammed up there so they crash to the floor, it's almost impossible not to flip out on them and yell at them for, well, just being.

And just as tough are the moments when you consider how you should take into account their personal stories while not making excuses for them. It's hard to understand that while I should respond to this girl's realization about her dad who basically abandoned her, if I don't comment on the academic parts of her work, I'm not doing my job.

So anyway, today I was meeting with her for our weekly reading conference. We were talking about this book we were reading, and she was telling me that the house in the book reminded her of her old house but she didn't want to write about that because she was too embarrassed to write down all the gross things that happened in her old house, like mice and roaches. I caught myself for a moment almost making a face of sympathy and "poor you" when I could almost see my pity mirrored in her eyes, and I realized that I owed her more than that and to give her my pity would be an insult and a disservice to her. So I told her that if she didn't want to write about her house, fine, but she had to go back and write a response with details from the book. And we had to work on that spelling and grammar, so let's get started on that.

She began to write down a few notes from our conference. "By the way," she said to me, "I fixed that other response about Lost and Found." She flipped back a few pages to the response about her father. I saw that she had copied it over with my editing corrections. She had added a detail about the girl in the book and her relationship with her mother, which didn't really address her topic. It wasn't that much better overall, but the effort had been made.

I gave her a tiny high five, and then I couldn't help it. I told her, "Hey, by the way, when I read your response, I really felt like you must've understood the character, probably more than I could have. I didn't have to go through what must have been really hard for you with your dad."

"Yeah," she said. "I could get what she meant when she said she loved and hated her dad at the same time. I do that every day."

I nodded. What else can I say to that? How can I work from there?

"But do you see I changed some spelling? And I added that part about how the girl doesn't get along with her mom now?" she asked me, pointing to her careful writing. "Is this right?"

And just like that, I knew.

Oh, It's Time

Maybe it's the rain, or maybe it's the end of September, or maybe it's me, but whatever it is, I've had just about enough. I've been warning my co-teacher for the past few days that a Jerry Maguire-level flip out is coming, and I'm not sure who's gonna be on the receiving end. At first I think she thought I was kidding, but as the week's progressed, I've noticed her sort of saying something to me, glancing at me, and then backing up slowly. I'm not even joking.

I just have one question: why does every decision an adult makes have to be validated at an official meeting? I swear, since I've graduated college, I've spent more time in meetings, talking about working, than actually working. And yes, I understand that part of that mathematical phenomenon is because I was also unemployed for some of that time, and I was meeting about finding a job, but still, I've found that while employed, I spend the majority of my time talking to people about the work I'm going to do, or the work I did, or the work I'm supposed to be doing. What's more troubling than that fact alone is that I seem to be the only person who actually cannot handle this.

I look around at my colleagues and try to gauge whether they think it's torture to sit through an hour meeting talking about the same things we talked about last week and the week before that and the year before that, but I can't tell. The closest that I've seen anyone come to admitting the truth about meetings was when someone listed "we had snacks" as a positive from one of our sessions. If the best thing that happened was you put some triscuits and Cracker Barrel cheese on a plate, well, I think you need to reevaluate the time you're spending in these meetings.

Where I work, we not only have meetings every single day, but we have meetings to plan for those meetings and meetings to talk about how they went. This is all called planning and debriefing, so that you think you're doing something really important and essential to your job, but in reality, all you're doing is talking about what you'll be talking about and talking about what you did talk about.

What's worse is what we meet about. For example, earlier this month, we had to meet to discuss who would take which kids to the bathroom before lunch. I'm not kidding: this was an item on our meeting agenda. Not only that, it took several sessions to come to a conclusion. Apparently it's a huge deal which teachers take the boys and which teachers take the girls to the bathroom before lunch. Nobody can quite tell me why, but we have to hear about the successes of the line in years past, and of course, the failures and the injustices. We have to hear about how teachers led students to the bathroom in schools in Texas and schools in Vermont. We also think about how they escort prisoners to the restrooms, just to make sure we're not allowing the children too many freedoms. When I mentioned that I thought it might be unfair to tell a child that he or she can't go to the bathroom until 10:05, even if it was 7:50 AM, I was quickly silenced, yet another irony: anyone with a different point is immediately silenced. We can only listen to repetitions of the same opinions.

Anyway, my point is, we met for about 45 minutes to discuss who'd take the kids to the bathroom. Not that the actual deciding was the issue. People quickly volunteered for which kids to take, but then we had to listen to why our decision made sense. We actually spent time hearing about how great our decision was.

Then, when we tried it out, one teacher decided it DID NOT WORK. This was a major problem. It was put on the next week's meeting agenda, but referenced in every conversation we had. Finally, when the problem was announced, I quickly volunteered to change my role, thinking that by doing so, I would be averting another major summit on Bathroom Duty. We heard about ten minutes of why my switch made sense and how it would now work, and right when I thought I'd been on the ledge, I could feel myself calming down and anticipating moving on to our next scintillating agenda item: whether we should extend homeroom for five minutes to allow a guest speaker (vote: yes, and that took the remainder of the meeting -30 minutes). As I began to breathe again, the teacher who wanted the change, who approved the change, who told stories of how the change would now work, piped up, "OK, but let's set up a meeting time for those teachers who just said they'd take the boys to the bathroom so we can discuss how it will work."

For the record, I did not end up meeting about the bathroom policies, mainly because I think people were afraid to bring it up to me because I made one of those "I will hang myself" gestures at anyone who mentioned the possibility of further discussion. But here's the amazing thing: even without this extra meeting and extra discussion, I still show up everyday to do my part. I still honor my responsibility, and it works out. Boys go to the bathroom, then to lunch. Nobody dies.

I know that my workplace isn't any different from many others. A lot of people have to meet about a lot of stupid things, just as ridiculous as who takes which children to use the bathroom. But my question remains: why do so many people continue to put up with it? People wonder why co-workers have such rage against each other, but I don't really anymore. There's only so many times you can sit across a round table from someone (we're all equal with equal voices, but some are allowed to talk longer) and hear their voice before you want to prick their eyeballs out.