Common Sense is Overrated

In Spanish they say it's the least common of all the senses. So, if you're like most people, you gotta wonder why you'd put up with the continuation of policies that haven't worked, that have ruined Wall Street, that deny Americans the health coverage enjoyed in virtually every other industrialized country in the world.

Well, maybe you just love endless, pointless war. Perhaps you're glad to pass crushing debt onto your children and grandchildren. Or you think it's fantastic that catastrophic medical emergency is the number one cause of bankruptcy in the United States. Maybe you're overjoyed that a credit card company got to rewrite bankruptcy legislation, or that we arranged a Medicare drug benefit that ensured we'd pay the highest possible price for pharmaceuticals. Perhaps you feel your income will suddenly go from 40 thousand to 40 million, and you're worried a Democratic government will allow you to keep only 29 million. Clearly you need at least 32 to build that chateu in the Ozarks.

There are a lot of reasons to vote Republican, and in case you're curious, here are just a few more:



Thanks to Schoolgal

Education Is A Full Time Job

Last night I found myself in Darkest New Jersey once again. Now Darkest New Jersey is not all bad. For example, I was able to buy gas for $2.35 a gallon. That can go a long way, which is good because New Yorkers in DNJ generally have a long way to go.

But there are drawbacks. Last night a woman confessed to me that she'd had it with the direction this country was taking. She told me she worked for an insurance company, but that her medical insurance was capped at $750 a year. That's three visits to a doctor, she said, and that's it. Also, the recent meltdown had left her 401K in very precarious shape, and she was nervous. She said her investments were very conservative, but that hadn't much helped her.

Her problem was that she had an issue voting for a Muslim for president. We were in a church, and she felt Muslims did not worship the same God that Christians did. She couldn't stand to see Obama Barack take the oath of office on a Koran. I told her that Obama was a lifelong Christian, that she was confusing him with a Senator (correction: it was Congressman Keith Ellison of Minnesota) who took the oath on a Koran, and that there was zero chance Obama would do this. I told her this repeatedly and eventually she said that not only did she believe it, but that she would now vote for Obama.

It would've been great if I could have also had her read this column by Maureen Dowd, but I'm fairly certain that would've been too much for one session. It's odd how certain prejudices seem more socially acceptable at certain times. In 1988, George H.W. Bush (with the help of hapless, wooden Mike Dukaukis) was able to frighten Americans into voting for him by plastering Willie Horton all over the airwaves. Eight years later, with that particular brand of racism no longer so chic, Bob Dole stood up at the Republican convention and announced those awful teacher unions were dead set on destroying the universe. Mr. Dole made a point of saying it wasn't actual teachers but the unions, secure in the knowledge his target audience would not make the connection that teacher unions were actually groups of teachers.

Four years ago I was in DC, watching people march in "defense of marriage." Actually they were marching to protest gay marriage. If they'd really wanted to defend marriage, they'd have protested adultery or divorce. But that wouldn't have garnered much support. More importantly, it wouldn't given Rove and company a sideways opening to tap into prejudices against gays, which was what the whole thing was really about.

It would be nice if we could all look at one person at a time here in the land of the brave and the free. In what promises to be a historic election Tuesday, we may get a little closer. When Tim McVeigh bombed a federal building you didn't hear a whole lot of buzz about those awful white people (and you shouldn't have). Everyone, Muslims, and even teachers, ought to get the same benefit of the doubt.

Back to work.

What's Really Scary this Year?

Yesterday I went trick-or-treating for the first time in many years. I didn't want to do it, but I had little choice in the matter. My daughter decided to dress as a Goth girl, and had her friend paint her entire face black. Despite their efforts, she ended up looking far less like a Goth girl than Archie Bunker dressed for the minstrel show at his lodge. Spoilsport that I am, I made her take the makeup off and wear the devil outfit we keep around for just such occasions. This not only suited her personality better, but also matched her friend's costume.

Unfortunately, after all the makeup changes, it was pitch dark outside. Even worse, my wife flatly declined to go out with the kids, thus breaking a long-established family tradition. While I'm generally left-leaning, I profoundly treasure traditions that allow me to stay home and shirk my responsibilities. But alas, that was not to be.

I walked around for an hour with the little devils, and some people had boxes that made odd noises and light effects that managed to unsettle all of us. I usually stood in front of the houses and waited, but the girls made me accompany them to several scary stoops. Noisy dogs also necessitated longer walks on my part, even when they had squeaky barks suggesting they were no bigger than oversized rats.

But the real fear I've been seeing has been that of my colleagues, who wonder what the hell good 55/57/25 will do them if their savings are circling the toilet. Perhaps we'll all be maneuvering the halls of our overcrowded schools in our wheelchairs and chugging Geritol in the teacher lounges. I hope not. I was hoping to retire at a reasonable age and find another job more suited to my particular talents.

I'm thinking public nuisance. On the other hand, those positions are largely monopolized by banjo players.

Today's Question:

Are angels watching over us? Let's hope so. This blogger thinks so.

Those Wacky Parents

Over at the NYC Parent's Blog, they've gotten their hands on the Daily News story that appears to have been killed by the Tweedies. Ellizabeth Green ponders the significance of this action here.

Debate Number Four

Watch the candidates really do battle, and stay tuned for the surprise challenge at the end:

What Do They Have to Do?

I hang out with a bunch of rednecks most weekends, with people who play banjos, and many who do even worse things. I usually keep my mouth shut about politics because after all, good banjo players are few and far between.

But sometimes I can't help myself. The GOP has had it their way for most of the last eight years, and when the Dems finally took the house back but were limited in what they could get done:

With Democrats clinging to a 51-49 advantage, the Senate became the place where signature legislation went to die. Republican stalling by filibuster became the norm. A record 92 filibusters were conducted this session of Congress.

We've seen what the deregulators could do with the economy. We've seen the rich get richer, while most of us watch prices go up far more quickly than our salaries. We've seen endless, pointless war which costs us ten billion a month we don't have. In fact, the national debt clock, temporarily retired when Clinton retired the debt, now has to be redesigned in order to accommodate the unanticipated extra digit. Honestly, short of bombing our own country, it's tough to imagine what else the neocons could have up their blighted sleeves.

I was heartened, however, that a banjo player of my acquaintance, one who vehemently supported W., has finally come to his senses, saying, "He just doesn't care about people like me and my family." He's going to vote for Barack Obama, even if it means that the uber-wealthy may end up paying a few extra points in taxes. I was also heartened by the picture above (which I filched from Andrew Sullivan).

I'm willing to make that sacrifice as well. I regret I don't make enough that my taxes would rise, but if Ms. Weingarten manages to negotiate a 150% raise next year, I'm willing to do my bit.

The Battle Between Kids and Grownups Rages On

The longer I teach, the more resourceful they become. For a few years now, I've been helping ESL kids pass the English Regents. I used to have them write at home, but it got to be a huge chore sorting out all the nonsense kids printed directly off the net, often with the addresses intact. I then decreed no more homework, and all writing would be done in the classroom.

But the kids found that all the English Regents exams, the ones I used for practice, were right there on the net. Why bother taking notes on those nasty listening passages when you could just copy them verbatim from your computer? Unfortunately for them, I had the text, knew it quite well after having read it aloud over ten times, and refused to accept verbatim renditions that still failed to address the questions.

But next they got more tricky, and started copying the sample comps from the teachers' guides off the net. I knew the styles didn't match, so I printed them out. Even when confronted with word for word identical essays, some kids denied copying. One even got transferred out of my class, citing how preposterously unreasonable I am.

It's really extra busy work for me having to print out all this stuff and check against it, but I hate it when kids get over on me. I'm told Kaplan makes mock-Regents exams that are sold at bookstores. I'm gonna try them out, as I think going to stores and buying books will prove beyond the pale for most teenagers.

I thought I was lucky that I had a literature class to balance this, but it turns out they've found ways to cheat there too. Sometimes I'll have them summarize the reading for homework (as many kids won't read unless you make them write too).

But yesterday morning, when I decided to check homework very carefully, I noticed one kid writing much better than that particular kid could write. I bullied her into admitting she'd copied it from the net. Then I read the same thing twice more. I went to an office with a working computer and printer, and I tried Sparknotes. Drat! No luck. Cliff Notes. No good. Then I typed the lines into Google and found Bookrags.

So that's where they steal from nowadays, what with the demise of Classic Comics and all. Bookrags seems an apt name, as it encourages kids to treat books like rags, like a chore, like taking out the trash.

I hope I can show them they're wrong. But till I do, I'll keep catching as many of them as I can.

Parent of the Year

Yesterday morning it was raining cats and dogs, and the occasional larger creature. My daughter's friend from down the block knocked on our door. She had missed the bus, and her mom had told her to walk. She's a sixth grader, and her school is two or three miles from here.

My wife said sure, she'd get dressed and drive her. But the mom, roused from her warm bed, said no, let her walk, it will teach her a lesson. There wasn't much to do once she'd denied my wife permission to drive the kid, who went off crying into the miserable cold rain to trek off to school.

I don't suppose the mom was doing anything illegal. I can't help thinking it ought to be. While I don't imagine the girl will wake up late anytime soon, I can't imagine putting my kid through such a thing on a day like that.

Just a Few Hundred Million Bucks

That's what the new Pepsi logo cost. Kinda makes ya wonder what we paid for that glitzy UFT logo we got. I hear it was a bargain at a mere quarter mil.

Let's Romp Naked Through the Christchurch Schools

There's a sentence you don't see every day. But apparently, it's one that popped through the minds of four young men who decided it was something they needed to do. This district seems to be in New Zealand, and I don't suppose they were having the same rainy, awful weather we had today in the Big Apple.

The district responded by adding security guards. That'll show 'em.

Here in NYC, it would be probably be blamed on teachers, provoking a new study group so that Joel Klein and Randi Weingarten could devise a new merit pay program. If no more young men romped naked through the halls, it would be declared a resounding success. If the incident were repeated, the program would be expanded until the nature hikes stopped altogether.

The Unreceptive Parent

I often call homes, and frequently advise colleagues to do the same. Sometimes they do. Other times they don't want to. Sometimes they tell me it doesn't work. Rarely, though, do I hear stories like this one:

Cheri Fry, 30, is accused of screaming profanities, threats and racial slurs at Traner Middle School Principal Lauren Ford during a discussion about her son's involvement in a fight.

Police said that while Fry was being transported to jail, she said she wanted to punch the principal in the mouth "so you really have something to arrest me for."

David Coleman, 46, is accused of using profanity and making threats during a Monday phone call from his daughter's teacher at Hug High School in Reno.

Some parents don't want to hear anything negative about their kids, I guess. And I suppose it's no surprise that their kids are just that much more likely to get into trouble at school. Why shouldn't they, if Mom and Dad are unlikely to acknowledge, let alone respond to, anyone claiming they're at fault for anything?

I suppose I've been lucky not to have my life threatened the many times I reported kids' progress to their parents. Have you ever been threatened by a parent, other than your own?

Children First

Diversity is the latest apparent victim of the rampant overcrowding that typifies Mayor Bloomberg's "Children First" program. You know that program--first put them here, then put them there, then in the corner, on the windowsill, in the closet, on top of each other, and everywhere else. If that fails, bring in a few trailers and dump them out back.

Is this de facto segregation?

Schools like PS 199 on the upper West Side have seen their black and Latino population decline. At PS 199, the figures have fallen from about 30% in the fifth grade to about 10% in kindergarten. PS 150 in Tribeca saw a similar drop from 32% to 7%.

You see, there's just no place to put these kids. I'm proud to say, though, that my school accepts absolutely everyone from absolutely anywhere. In fairness to Mayor-for-life Bloomberg, I doubt diversity or lack thereof has anything whatsoever to do with any calculations on his part, or that of the Tweedies. There's just no place to put these kids.

There's no place in their buildings, and there isn't any in mine either. And that is the problem. Twenty years ago the city would've rented an annex to house the overflow in a school like mine. Now they just shovel em' in and dump 'em anywhere. And that is simply unconscionable.

It's unfortunate that the media has yet to come to this conclusion, or doesn't care about it, or is stuffed too far down in Mayor Bloomberg's admittedly deep pockets. But it's obvious to anyone who spends any time in real city schools.

For this, Mayor Bloomberg merits not a third term in Gracie Mansion, but a first in prison.

The Vet Who Did Not Vet

Don't miss this...

You Can't Win With Some People

Ms. Bright has been my colleague for some time now. She has her good qualities, and one of them is knowing precisely which buttons to push with the kids. One of her worst qualities, unfortunately, is knowing which buttons to push with me. I always hate it when people figure me out and announce it to the world.

In our extended-day school, I taught beginning ESL periods nine and ten. Naturally I was in the trailer, and Ms. Bright somehow always found the parking space right outside my door. While I was welcoming the students, she would call out to me.

"Mr. Educator?"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving now."

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Bright. Thank you very much for letting me know."

"Don't mention it," she'd say.

Then she'd get in her car and start it up. And a moment later, she'd get out and call me again.

"Mr. Educator?"

"Yes, Ms. Bright?"

"I just want to let you know that I'm getting in my car now, and I'm going to drive away and go home."

Then she slammed the door and sped away. Sometimes I wanted to shout, "I get paid more than you," but I somehow knew what her response would be.

"I'm younger and better-looking than you are."

And really, how could I deny that? So I'd just go in and face the kids, who found the entire ritual hilarious. And no matter how many times she did it, they never got tired of it.

He's Not Leaving

The City Council holds a "vote" today to decide if the city's term limits law can be extended to three four year terms from the current two so citywide officials, City Council members and most importantly, Mayor Michael Bloomberg, can run again.

The fix is in on this vote, of course. Mayor Mike has bought off the opposition, threatened or bribed them to give him what he wants - another term as mayor.

So if and when the City Council gives the mayor what he wants and allows him another term, what should we start calling the "Little Mayor."

It seems to me "mayor" doesn't work so much anymore.

Maybe we can call him Dear Leader? Or Big Brother? Maybe King Bloomberg? Or Uncle Mike?

Any other ideas what we can call him?

Another Day in Mr. Bloomberg's New York

In today's Times there's a story about Robert Grandt, a school librarian who promoted a book written by his daughter. Not only did he put it on display, but he wrote a little blurb about it wherever school librarians write little blurbs. When students inquired about it, he gave them copies free of charge. However, one of Mayor Bloomberg's particularly astute Tweedies determined the librarian's daughter might be making 20 cents on each copy of the book the guy gave away.

Naturally, they could not allow such an outrage. So they threatened to fire Mr. Grandt, presented him with a $1,000 fine (which his wife managed to negotiate down to 500), and made him sign an affidavit saying he violated some crucial ethics code. What was Grandt's excuse for this dastardly and cynical act?

"I was just so proud of my daughter for writing it.”

Can you imagine?

On the same page there's a story about how the city council will vote tomorrow on extending term limits for Mayor Bloomberg and the very members of the council who are voting. Though the people of NY have voted term limits up twice, Mayor Bloomberg says it would be too complicated to ask them again. Plus Ronald Lauder, a gazillionaire colleague of Mayor Bloomberg, says it's OK. So really, who cares what the people think?

As long Mayor Bloomberg is standing firm on keeping those awful unionized teachers accountable, he can do whatever the hell he feels like, however the hell he feels like, and whenever the hell he feels like doing it. After all, you have to give those plebians something to aspire to.

The Eye of the Beholder

A couple of my classes just finished reading The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexandar McCall Smith. If you haven't read it (or its sequels), I highly recommend it.

My students had mixed reviews. Some of them didn't like it so much.

"It was so-so," said one kid.

"Well, what book did you like better?" I asked.

"All books are so-so," the kid said. Apparently, he prefers video games, and finds this whole reading thing overrated.

"I liked Dracula better," piped up one of my better students.

I liked Dracula too, though it was kind of an apples and oranges comparison, at least to me.

"What did you like better about Dracula?" I asked.

"There were more SAT words in it," she replied, with absolute seriousness.

It's true the Detective Agency series has fairly simple and straightforward language. As I clearly don't appreciate what's important, I found that one of the book's strong points.

Without giving much away, the book discusses a failed marriage. This provoked a couple of great comments from kids. One kid said, "You lose your eyes when you lose your heart."

Another said, "Love is blind. Marriage is an eye-opener."

Yet another declared, "After your first love, then you get mature."

Let's hope that's all it takes. I'd hate to think they'd need to burn through a marriage just to grow up.

A Dire Omen

During hard times, Billboard favorites lean toward the maudlin, according to Professor Terry F. Pettijohn II:

Looking at Billboard No.1 songs from 1955 to 2003 for a study to be published in the journal Psychology of Music, Dr. Pettijohn found that in uncertain times, people tend to prefer songs that are longer, slower, with more meaningful themes.

"It's 'Bridge Over Troubled Water,' and 'That's What Friends Are For,' " he said. "In better times, it's more likely to be faster, upbeat songs like 'At the Hop' or 'My Sharona.' "

This is just one more reason for us to get this economy on its feet. How many of us want to hear Feelings, or that Bobby Goldsboro gem Honey? Do we really need another comeback for Frankie Avalon? Do we really want our children to suffer through another Along Comes Mary? Does anyone actually understand that song anyway?

It's time to get our house in order, America. Someone has to stand up and say we've had all we can stands, and we can't stands no more.

On the Bright Side

Here are ten cars you can live in after your home is repossessed.