I first heard "The Merry Minuet" when my friend, Tom Painter, played it for me in the late 50's. It was sung by the Kingston Trio. You'll find the lyrics are surprisingly contemporary over 50 years later. It was written by Sheldon Harnick who wrote lyrics to "Fiddler on the Roof."
They're rioting in Africa. They're starving in Spain.
There's hurricanes in Florida, and Texas needs rain.
The whole world is festering with unhappy souls.
The French hate the Germans, the Germans hate the Poles.
Italians hate Yugoslavs, South Africans hate the Dutch.
And I don't like anybody very much!
But we can be tranquil and thankful and proud,
for man's been endowed with a mushroom-shaped cloud.
And we know for certain that some lovely day,
someone will set the spark off... and we will all be blown away.
They're rioting in Africa. There's strife in Iran.
What nature doesn't do to us... will be done by our fellow man.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The Failure of Charter Schools
I posted this on another Internet site and though I'd post it on my blog also.
The Failure of Charter Schools
I am a retired educator, so have no vested interest in public education at this point in my life. I'm going to offend some people, but the charter school movement in Arizona, where I live, was pushed by right wingers who were going to reform public education. Public education, for all its strengths and weaknesses, can always use some reform. Charters were going to come in and be much superior to every public school. That's at least the bill of good Arizona was sold. Millions were spent on charters. Any one could start one and corruption was rampant. The outcome was that with outstanding students, you had outstanding charter schools, with average students you have an average charter school and with below average students you have a below average charter school. I watched statistics for years and there were no charter schools in Arizona that could take below average students and turn them into college prep material. In their avowed aim, charter schools failed. No only have they failed, they have been a miserable failure. That doesn't mean there aren't good charter schools, or that people should pull their kids out of charter schools. There are just not revolutionary charter schools as was promised. Charter schools were not a panacea. The concept failed in that sense.
There is nothing particular magic about teaching and no silver bullets. If you have motivated students and involved parents, you'll have learning and successes in most of the worst of schools. For public school personnel, the one blessing of charter schools is that some intrepid souls tried to teach kids who couldn't make it in a public school. Many of these kids are not stupid, they have a hard time learning in a class of 28 (or 30, 35 or 40!). They could function on a charter school computer where they could work at their own pace. They didn't become geniuses, but some could finish school where they wouldn't have otherwise. Of course, a charter school doesn't have to keep a student it doesn't want (at least in Arizona), so often times these kids would just drop out.
I'd be very careful about which charter school I'd send my children to and would investigate what they do at that school very thoroughly. I had a grandson who went to an advanced placement charter school. It was wonderful for him and he did well. Everyone he associated with there did well, but of course there were academic standards students had to meet just to get in. If a public school could do that instead of having to take every one who walks through the front door, the public school would be outstanding also.
The great secret here and the great variable is how involved the parent ares. If you, as the parent, stay involved and on top of your child's education, provide learning opportunities at home (books!), your children are likely to do very well wherever they attend school. Most parents in low performing schools don't do that. It's usually tied to socioeconomics. Note that almost all "excellent" schools that get awards are in high socioeconomic areas. If we were truly measuring the value of a school and the quality of the teaching, we'd measure progress during the school year, not just whether the scores at a school were high or low. If we measured that way, many award winning schools wouldn't be doing so well.
It is a well know fact that Utah schools are high performing because families are strong and parents are involved in their children's education. That's the reason Utah can get away with underfunding their schools and still have great outcomes.
Anyway, good luck with the decisions you have to make. Mine is only one opinion (but the correct opinion!). Stay involved with your children's education!
The Failure of Charter Schools
I am a retired educator, so have no vested interest in public education at this point in my life. I'm going to offend some people, but the charter school movement in Arizona, where I live, was pushed by right wingers who were going to reform public education. Public education, for all its strengths and weaknesses, can always use some reform. Charters were going to come in and be much superior to every public school. That's at least the bill of good Arizona was sold. Millions were spent on charters. Any one could start one and corruption was rampant. The outcome was that with outstanding students, you had outstanding charter schools, with average students you have an average charter school and with below average students you have a below average charter school. I watched statistics for years and there were no charter schools in Arizona that could take below average students and turn them into college prep material. In their avowed aim, charter schools failed. No only have they failed, they have been a miserable failure. That doesn't mean there aren't good charter schools, or that people should pull their kids out of charter schools. There are just not revolutionary charter schools as was promised. Charter schools were not a panacea. The concept failed in that sense.
There is nothing particular magic about teaching and no silver bullets. If you have motivated students and involved parents, you'll have learning and successes in most of the worst of schools. For public school personnel, the one blessing of charter schools is that some intrepid souls tried to teach kids who couldn't make it in a public school. Many of these kids are not stupid, they have a hard time learning in a class of 28 (or 30, 35 or 40!). They could function on a charter school computer where they could work at their own pace. They didn't become geniuses, but some could finish school where they wouldn't have otherwise. Of course, a charter school doesn't have to keep a student it doesn't want (at least in Arizona), so often times these kids would just drop out.
I'd be very careful about which charter school I'd send my children to and would investigate what they do at that school very thoroughly. I had a grandson who went to an advanced placement charter school. It was wonderful for him and he did well. Everyone he associated with there did well, but of course there were academic standards students had to meet just to get in. If a public school could do that instead of having to take every one who walks through the front door, the public school would be outstanding also.
The great secret here and the great variable is how involved the parent ares. If you, as the parent, stay involved and on top of your child's education, provide learning opportunities at home (books!), your children are likely to do very well wherever they attend school. Most parents in low performing schools don't do that. It's usually tied to socioeconomics. Note that almost all "excellent" schools that get awards are in high socioeconomic areas. If we were truly measuring the value of a school and the quality of the teaching, we'd measure progress during the school year, not just whether the scores at a school were high or low. If we measured that way, many award winning schools wouldn't be doing so well.
It is a well know fact that Utah schools are high performing because families are strong and parents are involved in their children's education. That's the reason Utah can get away with underfunding their schools and still have great outcomes.
Anyway, good luck with the decisions you have to make. Mine is only one opinion (but the correct opinion!). Stay involved with your children's education!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Nobody Died...
My wife, Brenda, and I have a motto when things go bad. If something is stolen, lost, broken or we have a financial reversal (common), we say, "Nobody died." This doesn't work well if someone does die.
Some years ago, I inherited a number of antique clocks from my aunt who obtained many of them from my Grandfather Ross who was a watch and clock repairman in his later years (about the age I am now!). One of the prize clocks is a Seth Thomas #2, a beautiful clock which is around 100 years old. It is one of my most prized and sentimental possessions.
Yesterday, I was carrying the #2 downstairs to store it until we could decide where to hang it. I stumbled on the stairs and despite my best efforts, the #2 went flying. In the air, it did a half gainer, hit the stairs facedown and slid all the way to the basement. I thought about diving for it, but given my reflexes these days, the thought was long after the clock had settled on the basement floor.
I stood at the top of the landing, devastated. I did not want to go down to look at the clock fearful of the irreparable damage. Actually, the Seth Thomas survived the dive quite well. None of the glass broke, a piece fell off, but there we some nasty gouges in the front of the clock. I guess that's why antiques are antiques. They can survive us. Well, not all do or there would be more antiques. In this case, I was proud of Mr. Thomas and those who assembled his timepieces, they produced one tough clock.
I gently place the clock, which look like it had gone 15 rounds with Mohammed Ali, in its storage area and went upstairs to give Brenda the bad news. I was feeling terrible for what I had done (no, the stairs did it!) to this beloved clock. As I looked at Brenda, the first thing I could think of to say was, "Nobody died. Our children and grandchildren are still well. We're okay."
It's strange how life's little vicissitudes affect us. The aerobatics of the clock were not the Japanese earthquake nor the bombing of Libya. My stepmother, Maurine, used to say, "Our things are ours for awhile then they are someone else's things." Many of her things are now mine. Maybe I ought to copy this post and put it on the back of the clock so someone other than me can learn that lesson.
My first inclination after the clock fell, was to sell the clock in shame late at night in a dark alley where no one could see it very well. My next was to have an expert repair the dents and dings; not a bad option. Today, however, I think I may bring the #2 carefully upstairs and place it, warts and all, in a prominent place. To do so would remind me that life is fleeting, things are just things no matter how much I like them and that the Seth Thomas #2 will belong to someone else one of these days.
Some years ago, I inherited a number of antique clocks from my aunt who obtained many of them from my Grandfather Ross who was a watch and clock repairman in his later years (about the age I am now!). One of the prize clocks is a Seth Thomas #2, a beautiful clock which is around 100 years old. It is one of my most prized and sentimental possessions.
Yesterday, I was carrying the #2 downstairs to store it until we could decide where to hang it. I stumbled on the stairs and despite my best efforts, the #2 went flying. In the air, it did a half gainer, hit the stairs facedown and slid all the way to the basement. I thought about diving for it, but given my reflexes these days, the thought was long after the clock had settled on the basement floor.
I stood at the top of the landing, devastated. I did not want to go down to look at the clock fearful of the irreparable damage. Actually, the Seth Thomas survived the dive quite well. None of the glass broke, a piece fell off, but there we some nasty gouges in the front of the clock. I guess that's why antiques are antiques. They can survive us. Well, not all do or there would be more antiques. In this case, I was proud of Mr. Thomas and those who assembled his timepieces, they produced one tough clock.
I gently place the clock, which look like it had gone 15 rounds with Mohammed Ali, in its storage area and went upstairs to give Brenda the bad news. I was feeling terrible for what I had done (no, the stairs did it!) to this beloved clock. As I looked at Brenda, the first thing I could think of to say was, "Nobody died. Our children and grandchildren are still well. We're okay."
It's strange how life's little vicissitudes affect us. The aerobatics of the clock were not the Japanese earthquake nor the bombing of Libya. My stepmother, Maurine, used to say, "Our things are ours for awhile then they are someone else's things." Many of her things are now mine. Maybe I ought to copy this post and put it on the back of the clock so someone other than me can learn that lesson.
My first inclination after the clock fell, was to sell the clock in shame late at night in a dark alley where no one could see it very well. My next was to have an expert repair the dents and dings; not a bad option. Today, however, I think I may bring the #2 carefully upstairs and place it, warts and all, in a prominent place. To do so would remind me that life is fleeting, things are just things no matter how much I like them and that the Seth Thomas #2 will belong to someone else one of these days.
Grandma's Lye Soap
In the early 1950's, my dad used to play a recording of this song incessantly. A month ago, I was in the Payson, Arizona Ace Hardware store and saw a bar of Grandma's Lye Soap! I had to buy a bar. Unlike what the song would indicate, it is a great soap. A hundred years ago, most rural people made their own soap, lye soap. the bar of Grandma's Lye Soap I bought is still by my sink. It is very mild and has hardly gone down in a month. It is worth the $3+ I paid for it. You can find Grandma's Lye Soap on the internet-or visit Ace Hardware in Payson! For those of you who have never heard the song, here are the funny lyrics.
Grandma's Lye Soap
written by Johnny Standley and Art Thorsen
Do you remember Grandma's Lye Soap,
Good for everything in the home,
And the secret was in the scrubbing,
It wouldn't suds, and wouldn't foam,
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Little Therman, and Brother Herman,
Had an aversion to washing their ears...
Grandma scrubbed them with her lye soap,
And they haven't heard a word in years!
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Mrs. O'Malley, out in the valley,
Suffered from ulcers, I understand,
She swallowed a cake of Grandma's Lye Soap,
Has the cleanest ulcers in the land!
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Alternate Verse:
Mrs. O'Malley
Down in the valley
had a hound, I understand.
It swallowed a cake
Of Grandma's lye soap.
Now it's the cleanest hound in all the land
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Grandma's Lye Soap
written by Johnny Standley and Art Thorsen
Do you remember Grandma's Lye Soap,
Good for everything in the home,
And the secret was in the scrubbing,
It wouldn't suds, and wouldn't foam,
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Little Therman, and Brother Herman,
Had an aversion to washing their ears...
Grandma scrubbed them with her lye soap,
And they haven't heard a word in years!
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Mrs. O'Malley, out in the valley,
Suffered from ulcers, I understand,
She swallowed a cake of Grandma's Lye Soap,
Has the cleanest ulcers in the land!
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Alternate Verse:
Mrs. O'Malley
Down in the valley
had a hound, I understand.
It swallowed a cake
Of Grandma's lye soap.
Now it's the cleanest hound in all the land
Oh, let us sing right out (sing out!)
For Grandma's Lye Soap,
Sing it out, all over the place!
For pots and pans, and dirty dishes,
And for your hands,
And for your face!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Disagreements
My dad, grandfather and great-grandfather used to sit around after family dinners and discuss politics. My Great-grandfather Merriman was a solid Democrat and a Truman enthusiast. Dad was an uncompromising Republican. My first memory of of a televised presidential speech was President Truman. Dad look at the flickering picture of Truman and said with some passion, "You ass." I was shocked, not that Dad would use language like that, his eloquence in profanity was well practiced, but that he would direct it towards the President of the United States. Obviously that was a more civil era.
Grandpa Merriman thought Truman was the second coming of Washington and Lincoln rolled into one. When ever Dad got going on President Truman, Grandpa Merriman's lower lip would start to quiver. Sometimes it was rather intense. But the discussions centered on issues, not on personalities and name-calling (except privately when Dad and Truman faced off in front of our TV in the living room).
In the mid 1960's, I became a Mormon and my Grandfather Ross was baptized a Seventh-day Adventist. He and I could sit down in a room and talk about our beliefs for hours on end and have a grand time. The moment my Grandmother Ross entered the room, however, it was a cat fight. What was the difference? I'm still trying to figure that out.
Like my Grandmother and I, it seems all of us have a hard time disagreeing any more. Invectives have become so personalized and so emotionally powerful, particularly in the political arena, that reasonable disagreements are almost a thing of the past. I'd like readers of this blog to know that I thrive on respectful disagreement. I want my opinions to be called into question. I can read and hear differing opinions. If your opinion, which is likely different than mine, changes my mind, great, I will be more enlightened. If not, maybe I can enlighten you. Most likely, we will still hold our previous opinions. We've had the chance to exchange ideas. It's wonderful. What a dull world if we all agree.
And history would agree that Grandpa Merriman was quite accurate about President Truman!
Blessings.
Grandpa Merriman thought Truman was the second coming of Washington and Lincoln rolled into one. When ever Dad got going on President Truman, Grandpa Merriman's lower lip would start to quiver. Sometimes it was rather intense. But the discussions centered on issues, not on personalities and name-calling (except privately when Dad and Truman faced off in front of our TV in the living room).
In the mid 1960's, I became a Mormon and my Grandfather Ross was baptized a Seventh-day Adventist. He and I could sit down in a room and talk about our beliefs for hours on end and have a grand time. The moment my Grandmother Ross entered the room, however, it was a cat fight. What was the difference? I'm still trying to figure that out.
Like my Grandmother and I, it seems all of us have a hard time disagreeing any more. Invectives have become so personalized and so emotionally powerful, particularly in the political arena, that reasonable disagreements are almost a thing of the past. I'd like readers of this blog to know that I thrive on respectful disagreement. I want my opinions to be called into question. I can read and hear differing opinions. If your opinion, which is likely different than mine, changes my mind, great, I will be more enlightened. If not, maybe I can enlighten you. Most likely, we will still hold our previous opinions. We've had the chance to exchange ideas. It's wonderful. What a dull world if we all agree.
And history would agree that Grandpa Merriman was quite accurate about President Truman!
Blessings.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Freedom
Ask anyone what is great about the USA and the answer will likely be freedom. Most every American appreciates our free and open society.
I am a proud graduate of Brigham Young University. My school has been much in the news last week for the suspension of a basketball player who violated the university’s Honor Code. Many have questioned the restrictive nature of the Honor Code at BYU. I have been told a number of times that the standards of the university and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, of which I am a member, are repressive. I have been taunted, teased and taken to task over my adherence to these standards. Why would I, who enjoy a good time, continue to live this restrictive life style when I could choose differently? Why would any athlete in his or her right mind submit to the BYU Honor Code when they could go almost anywhere else in the country and be “free?”
My years at BYU were the most fun, liberating and free years of my life., except for all of the years that came after. Before coming to BYU, I had tried it the other way. There was no comparison. As a fellow student once said, “BYU is the biggest party school in the country. The parties are just a little different.”
When I attended my 20th high school reunion in 1982, I noticed a number of my high school friends, brilliant and talented individuals, who had attended the University of California at Berkley. Not to impugn that wonderful institution of learning, but it seemed that most of these best and brightest who attended at Berkley had become part of the drug culture of the 1960’s. At the reunion, I’d ask what happened to certain old friends. The response time and time again was “Oh, he (or she) went to Berkley did drugs and is burned out.” These quick, bright young people had become adults, just entering middle age, and could not put and sentence together or walk straight. They had not been “repressed” by an Honor Code. They were free.
In 1963, my mother left my father and family to go to New York City so she could be free. Dad wasn’t always the easiest guy and Mom wanted out. She wanted, at age 42, to do whatever she wanted. She lived with a man who took Mom in because he was tired of his wife. He soon tired of Mom. After a few years, Mom came back to our hometown and lived in poverty the rest of her life. There were other men along the way, none of whom were faithful to her. They all had their freedom. Mom’s “freedom” not only ruined her life, but devastated her ex-husband and children. Dad went on to live in nice homes and travel the world. Mom could have been a part of that, but she was free.
Years ago, I watched a sit-com. Two men were talking. One was complaining to the other about how bad his marriage was. The second man said to the first, “You look at your marriage as prison. I look at mine as Disneyland.” Disneyland has boundaries and rules. Break those rules and boundaries and Disneyland is no longer Disneyland. Of course it takes two people to build a marriage. If one isn’t willing to establish Disneyland in a marriage, it is hard for one person to do it alone. But two, working together can build Disneyland, though, like the real Disneyland, it isn’t easy to build or maintain.
I believe in boundaries. I believe in rules. Everything good in life, marriage, family, a college education, business and government is, or should be, ruled by boundaries. The stronger the boundaries, especially if they are self-imposed, the better the endeavor. A basketball player at BYU has learned that in the last week. Is he condemned? No. Is he forgiven? Of course, as he steps back in the bounds he’s agreed to. Is he a bad person? No, he just made a mistake. Will he be a better person for what he has experienced? Certainly, as long as he learns what his limits are and I am confident he will. Those who have walked the same path attest to it.
Freedom? The corollary of freedom is that it comes with responsibility and consequences. We forget that. There is a negative consequence to everything restricted in the BYU Honor Code, but there are wonderful, immeasurable consequences living it.
What are the consequences of obeying the BYU Honor Code? No deaths from drunk driving (imagine eliminating the resulting 20,000+ deaths a year from DUIs). No addictions-even to caffeine. No physical or sexual abuse. Lower retail prices (20% lower because of the elimination of the costs of shoplifting). No venereal disease including AIDS. No guilt the next morning. A great reduction in cancer deaths and the accompanying medical costs. Living in an atmosphere of trust. No Wall Street or bank fraud. But who’d want to give away their freedoms for a repressive society like that?
Obviously the Honor Code is not lived perfectly at BYU. I didn’t live it perfectly when I was there, but I’m a better and happier person because I tried. If the mint brownies they sell on campus had been against the Honor Code, I'd be even better... or at least skinnier!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Blessings of a Wheelchair (see picture below)
The first wheelchairs we invented by the Chinese in the 6th century. The modern wheelchair was produced in 1933. Brenda became wheelchair bound as a result of complications from spinal fusion surgery last summer. She has two physical problems with it. First, upon sitting very long, her bottom becomes very sore. If she had a bottom like mine, this would not be a problem, but in spite of the claims of modern medicine, being thin is not always an advantage. Her hands, which get sore from propelling herself around, are the second problem.
With pain and the resulting tears, there couldn't be any advantages to being in a wheel chair, right?
Strangely, I think Brenda and I are happier now than ever before in our marriage. Brenda now realizes that I care about her enough to take over a number of things she can no longer do. I do dishes, wash clothes, clean floors (no too often) and grocery shop. Often I cook dinner. Not only do I do these things, but they give me joy. Granted, we are retired and I have the time to do them, but Brenda has served our family beautifully for forty years, now it is my turn to show her my appreciation for all she's done.
From my point of view, we have more time to talk and just settle in with each other. Our conversations have more depth and our joys are more meaningful. We do not look at this episode in our live as a tragedy, but something to learn from and adjust to. Life has slowed down for us and that has been good.
In the first weekend of last September, I thought Brenda would die. I was told by hospital staff that her condition could go either way. I was devastated. I tried to prepare family, friends and our ward for her passing. As Brenda recovered, I was impressed with a new depth of my love for her. The process was a spiritual experience, a revelation of sorts that opened my heart to what was already in our relationship, but in the day to day humdrum of a marriage is buried.
Yes, I get tired of loading the wheelchair in and out of the car. I get exhausted with pushing it sometimes. But I'm grateful for that wheelchair, or rather my sweetheart who is in it. The wheelchair is a small price to pay for having more life with her. Besides, thanks to the Chinese, it's easier than carrying her on my back. She'd be worth it though.
With pain and the resulting tears, there couldn't be any advantages to being in a wheel chair, right?
Strangely, I think Brenda and I are happier now than ever before in our marriage. Brenda now realizes that I care about her enough to take over a number of things she can no longer do. I do dishes, wash clothes, clean floors (no too often) and grocery shop. Often I cook dinner. Not only do I do these things, but they give me joy. Granted, we are retired and I have the time to do them, but Brenda has served our family beautifully for forty years, now it is my turn to show her my appreciation for all she's done.
From my point of view, we have more time to talk and just settle in with each other. Our conversations have more depth and our joys are more meaningful. We do not look at this episode in our live as a tragedy, but something to learn from and adjust to. Life has slowed down for us and that has been good.
In the first weekend of last September, I thought Brenda would die. I was told by hospital staff that her condition could go either way. I was devastated. I tried to prepare family, friends and our ward for her passing. As Brenda recovered, I was impressed with a new depth of my love for her. The process was a spiritual experience, a revelation of sorts that opened my heart to what was already in our relationship, but in the day to day humdrum of a marriage is buried.
Yes, I get tired of loading the wheelchair in and out of the car. I get exhausted with pushing it sometimes. But I'm grateful for that wheelchair, or rather my sweetheart who is in it. The wheelchair is a small price to pay for having more life with her. Besides, thanks to the Chinese, it's easier than carrying her on my back. She'd be worth it though.
Why "Back in the Desert?"
As many of you know, my wife, Brenda, and I have recently moved to Gilbert AZ from the green forest of Payson AZ. We are literally back in the desert. In fact, I should be unpacking boxes rather than starting a blog, but sometimes you just have top do what you have to do. My blog will contain musings, humor, politics, religion and ideas that generate from my vivid imagination. I hope you enjoy the thoughts and share yours. The last thing I would expect is that everyone will agree with everything I say, but let's keep it civil at all times.
Blessings.
Blessings.
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