And the beat goes on . . .

We are gearing up for another year of school.  Binders, folders, spirals, pencils, rulers, hole punch, lunch box, water bottle, and zip stick.  While these are the "things" we need.  There is very little talk of what we want.

I hope that we want an educated populous who can question ideas,  beliefs, and values.  I want my child to understand that going to a public school means that he should be expected to learn, engage, dialogue, question, experiment--all in the 6 hours per day, 5 days per week, 9 of 12 months of the year.  I also want him to find friends who will have his back, practice his violin, and discover something new that rocks his world.

There is so much chatter about teachers, placements, homework, and standards.  Yes, we need to come to a common agreement about what children should learn, and when, but when standards drive the creativity and experimentation that used to exist in the classroom, we have completely lost what it means to learn something.

Working together, deconstructing knowledge, making mistakes, and risk-taking are completely absent in the current public school model.  Yet, when was the last time you learned something new, didn't make a mistake, explained it in written form, and then judged by what you knew?

Unfortunately the teachers are represented by a union whose model is grossly out of date and lacks any creative young energy (sorry Harvey) when advocating about compromise, concessions, and compliance.

We have a district who grossly overpays their top administrators and steals the life and dedication to educate from their teachers, custodians, resource teachers, school nurses and psychologists.

I live in a city that builds "vanity schools" which carry the names of "important" people, or schools that can be written up by some educational researcher about a model that was started by some overworked teacher, or schools whose budgets are decimated because the 1000+ kids in South Central--who have at least one parent in the jail system--can't get counseling when they bring used syringes to school to play with on the yard.

My child is fortunate, I am his advocate in all aspects of his education.  I speak English, I am informed, and I am knowledgeable about the public school system.  I have had the extreme pleasure of working with caring and exceptionally talented teachers and administrators on his behalf.

But what about the countless other children who attend the same public school district whose parents are not native English speakers, or who work 12-15 hours a day--seven days a week, or the parent with a physical or mental illness, or just the parent who has given up?

What happens to this child?  Who is their guard dog?  Who goes to bed at night worried about their education?  Did they understand the classroom instruction?  Was the lesson coherent?  Did the child stop worrying about their parent at some point during the class so they could take in the material?  Were they teased because their clothes were not "cool" enough?  Did they feel alone, confused, silenced by a chaotic life?  Did they worry that their friends would find out they live in their car?  On the street?  In a shelter?

I guess I want to know  . . . who gets them ready for another year of public school?

Selected Headlines from 2010 about LAUSD.

LAUSD lost almost $10 million due to inefficient inventory system, audit finds.

The $75.5 million Carson-Gore Academy of Environmental Sciences will open September 13th for 675 students.

The Robert F. Kennedy Community Schools cluster, scheduled to open this fall on the site of the former Ambassador Hotel, was built at a cost of $578 million, or nearly $140,000 per student seat.  It is the most expensive public school ever built in the LAUSD, and may be the most expensive public school in the country. 

Controversies surround LAUSD's new hire, John Deasy, and the L.A. Times reported that LAUSD board gave Deasy an annual salary of $275,00 -- $25,000 more than his boss Ramon Cortines.

For the Food Network's Easy After School Snacks - click here.

 

The ways of the Buddha according to a 12-year old

It is not a frequent occurrence in my daily life when my tween stops talking.  Usually, I say to myself, "what is going to happen next?"  But the other night a very strange thing happened.  He stopped talking to keep calm, to keep his composure, and to change a unhealthy cycle of anger and rage.

All I can say is the insight into a productive and mature response blindsided me and was cause for celebration (albeit a silent one).  When asked where this new technique came from, the young man replied, "the way of the Buddha."  "I learned that Buddha remained calm in difficult situations and I wanted to use that when I did not want to come inside and stop playing."  Now I am no scholar or expert in the history and techniques of Buddha or Buddhism, but I will take this as the gospel truth.

I had only one question for the wise sage of 12 years old who was sitting next to me, "it took you this long to use the technique after months of rage, anger, and confrontation?"  Clearly, that was not asked, it was not the time, nor the place, for a mother's critique.  When Siddhartha was 12 years old, he did not have a mother who "asks too many questions", because like this child, he lost a mother when he was an infant as well.

When I looked at him, starring straight ahead, silent, focused, in command of himself, I am seeing a young man.  When I hear his very deep voice speaking to me, I hear a young man, and when I feel his hand rub my arm just before he doses off to sleep, I feel a young man.  I am in awe that every 24 hours he is still with me and by my side, but he is increasing his stride into a young man.  The interesting parallel is that Siddhartha was reminded of a childhood memory where he attained a concentrated and focused state that was blissful and refreshing.

Later on that evening, after notes were passed to each other about a bowl of ice cream, the silenced thawed and the child-man went to sleep having mastered his own emotional landscape.  He sowed the seeds of enlightenment--may they be cared for, watered, and fed so they can grow with such beauty as the child-man.

स्मृति
mindfulness awaits  . . .

Paris in Summertime

Sometimes you have to live a fantasy to enjoy what is real.  Spending seven days in Paris, alone, was my version of "Eat, Pray, Love".

Upon arrival I made my way to the 12th for a special tasting lunch prepared by Miss Lunch.  Nine of us gathered in her loft and enjoyed the 5 course menu.  Miss Lunch prepares a "Lunch in the Loft" and I highly recommend this unique experience in Paris, especially if you are a foodie.

Marche Aligre

The first course was a white gazpacho that was comprised of white grapes, almonds, and pine nuts. We enjoyed this cold soup surrounded by beautiful contemporary art with a glass of Prosecco.  The second course was a trout gelee that had finely diced cucumber, tomato coulis, and caviar.  The home-made gelee was veal-based, and its clarity was superb.

We ventured to the third course of home-made duck breast prosciutto (thinly-sliced and air dried duck breast) with white beans cooked with a bit of orange zest and onions.  The warm soft beans paired with the duck breast went perfectly.

Course number four was a ravioli stuffed with goat cheese and a melange of mushrooms.  It sat on top of a fresh tomato sauce that was both light and summer-perfect.

Finally, we concluded our lunch with a Belgian waffle in a perfect star shape, hand whipped fresh cream, but the absolute delight was homemade mint ice cream in a vanilla base with fresh mint leaves and a dusting of Szechuan peppercorns.  Your tongue would be numbed by the peppercorns and then cooled by the ice cream.

The meal was followed by a thorough discussion of each plate and she shared favorite products like Premiere Pression Provence a first pressing of olive oil that is divine.

A walk around the 12th to the Bastille followed lunch and it was a truly exceptional start to a wonderful week.

More Paris highlights to come, but the fantasy did not disappoint.