Nobody's Perfik

    To paraphrase a famous personality, “It was a less than quiet week in Chester, NJ, my hometown…”

     Things have changed in Chester over the years.  At one time, it was a pretty basic place.  There was no bank nor a need for one in town.  People had to spend all they earned.  There was no grocery store – folks had to grow their own or drive about 14 miles to Dover or Morristown to get their vittles. 

     If you owned a pair of socks, you were middle-class.  If the socks matched and were washed between wears, you were upper middle-class.  Kids who had to milk cows by hand each morning before school, were in the lower socioeconomic class but they had the strongest grips. Our classroom bully was four years older than the age norm for the group because of unrecognized dyslexia and a tough childhood.

     There was one school building with 9 rooms, one administrator, Principal Charles Williamson, and one janitor, LeRoy “Shorty” Nunn.

     But in the last 40 years, the economic base of town changed.  The average price of a home is now over $700,000 and those homes are occupied by professional types with lots of moolah and at least one crappy attitude.

     Regional newspaper, The Daily Record, reported a recent case involving a Doctor and a child. The Doctor was suing the child who also was his neighbor. 

     Doctor “P.T. Uitary”, 54, (I changed his name and avoided mentioning his area of specialization) sued fifteen-year-old, “Norma L. Child” because of an incident when he was 49 and she was eleven.   

     P.T. is an avid exerciser – I imagine the kind with the designer water bottle always at his side, the best high tech sporting equipment adorning his torso and that far away look of self-centered intensity on his face. 

    He plays tennis, runs, swims and one day, out on his bicycle was riding laps around the neighborhood when he came up behind young Norma who was in-line skating.  She noticed his rapid approach, his bell ringing and yelling for her to yield and she also noticed oncoming traffic.  So she stopped and stood to the side as he pedaled by. 

     Norma got back to her skating and shortly, along came P.T. on another lap but this time there was no other traffic. There was plenty of room for the good Doctor to easily steer his bike around her – or so she thought.  But the Doctor, exhibiting classic signs of a cognitively challenged person, (lack of adaptive behavior), rang his bell and yelled for young Norma to again move aside to let him pass.  In looking back at him, she veered slightly to her left.  Yet P.T. neither slowed down nor steered far enough around her.  He pedaled smack into young Norma and he fell off his bike.  Poor Dear. 

     Norma only had minor bumps and bruises but our unfortunate, arrogant, me-first doctor bumped his swelled head (no helmet?) and broke his collarbone. 

     Smirk justified.

     P.T. experienced pain and suffering and lost time at his lucrative practice- not to mention his exercise regimen.  So he filed a lawsuit against Norma. 

     The wheels of justice sometimes turn slowly and it finally came to court when she was a freshman in high school.  Norma’s parents dug deep into their pockets for the thousands of dollars to defend this suit that some equally bright judge refused to declare as frivolous.

     Accident reconstruction specialists were called in, most likely spray painted “X’s” marked the scene and some yellow tape was stretched around the ‘hood as testimony in the trial began. 

     Justice ultimately prevailed and the doctor lost his case.

     Our classroom bully grew up, married and became a solid citizen of the community.  Now his role has been assumed by one with a fancier education, an unwillingness to grow up and no excuse for his behavior.

     There is a new bully in town and he has a lawyer on his speed dial. I don’t think Fred Rogers ever lived in that neighborhood. If he had, his theme song would have been different.

      “It’s a litigious day in the neighborhood, a litigious day in the�
       neighborhood…see you in court…see you in court…”

      When WWII took us the final step from an agricultural society into an industrial one, leisure time became available to families everywhere. Nowadays, unemployment gives us lots of leisure time.  Camps, parks and recreation programs, and Little League help us meet the needs to fill that time.

      With all this going on, one Mortimer Gump, of Colts Mane, NJ, (it’s right next to Colt’s Neck) emerged from his basement workshop with his masterpiece, a giant inflatable beer bottle.  It took him four days before he discovered that deflating it was necessary to get it up the stairs and out the door.  He soon followed that up with life-sized inflatable dinosaurs.  His wife and kids promptly changed their names and moved away. Undaunted, he mused, “Where to use these wonderful new inventions?” 

     The answer appeared in an ephemeral haze from the neon lights of the Ferris wheel overlooking the Point Pleasant boardwalk.     �
     Summerfests were created.  And now every town seems to have one.  We have the Levittown Cookie Cutter Days, The U.P. Wood Tick Festival, Taste of Calumet City and Carp Boil and many others. Of course, Tulip Time is exempt from this critique because it is not one of those cut and paste events that is randomly dropped into a community.

     In this age of recycling, nostalgia acts from the edges of show business have found new life as they are being brought to our towns and cities.  Risers, borrowed from the schools are fitted to form a stage where one can see Chubby Checker lean his walker aside and do his Twist one more time.  “Edna, you can hardly tell he has an artificial hip…who IS his orthopedic man?” 

     People seem to love the idea of blocking off streets and paying outrageous prices for hot dogs and fries sold along an instant midway mere blocks from their own homes.  The puritan roots of our culture wane and our baser senses make us think it is fun to swill beer in the middle of a downtown street.  To help us behave ourselves, police auxiliary uniforms are distributed to every cop wannabe.    

     A big portable sign arches across the entrance announcing the presence of “Amusements”.   Carnival rides and games of chance are set up in the parking lot and run by people who didn’t eat their vegetables and never did their homework.

     But now we have come to the time and place where this genre needs to be taken one step further.  Not every community finds pleasure in these small town events.  Not every community delights in seeing faded rock and rollers or slugging down a Blatz in the middle of Main Street.  Some communities fancy themselves as a bit more special, and “above it all”.

     For this reason a new venture has been formed; “Sophisticated Summerfests, Inc.“  For a nominal fee, this company will come to your town and provide the following:

     Food enclaves; salads, bean sprouts, sushi, watercress sandwiches, and tofu for you. Beverage fountains offering Evian, Perrier, Energy Drinks, vegetable juices, cappuccino and frapacino. Center stage, hosted by Dick Cavett, will introduce acts such as; a Tony Randall impersonator singing “Winchester Cathedral”, The Emeril Epicurean Experience, panel discussions on British literature, The Frenchtown Sidewalk Ballet  (touring ensemble), The internationally renowned precision marching cellists from the Muscatel, Iowa Sim-fonic Orchestra, and for sports fans, the traveling exhibit titled “Ted Williams’ Head on Ice”

     Bemusement rides and games are brought in; including the ever-popular limerick activated water ride (sprays of spritzer are misted over you if your limerick is not bemusing enough), the Hall of Puns, and High Tea served in a Victorian carriage.

     Which will be the first of our local communities to upscale their summers?

Summer road trips are mostly an American experience. Now that we are “empty nesters” road trips are a bit easier than when we were raising kids yet they still bring about challenges as well as revelations. Here are a few reflections about one of our most recent road trips. 

Strongest bladder of the trip – I exceeded my previous personal best of 4.25 hours and 267 miles of bumpy, pounding highway before having to stop mainly because the whimpering pleas of my companion.  I barely made it into the Oasis without major embarrassment. 

Best motel found (finally!) – Microtel chain.  Excellent Euro design, quality where it counts, clean, fresh and lacks that distinctive fake air freshener smell that permeates so many sticky old motel chains.

Best food chain – Kelsey’s in Ontario – a sports-bar motif but has quiet places…good service and fresh food.

Worst Motel – The Dunn-Inn with their signature coat of stickyness on all surfaces (included at no extra charge), the chalk outline of a body on the greasy carpeting of our room which was beneath that of a touring troupe of Flamenco Dancers who relentlessly practiced until 3:48 a.m.

Best breakfast joint – Leonard’s Cherry Knoll in Burke, NY.  All homemade food, locals eat there, reasonable prices, good service from a lovely young waitress, in her French cut T-shirt (be careful here, old guy) who also sported good teeth and a beautiful tan – both unique to the area.

Biggest changes at old stomping grounds – it just doesn’t seem right that after a 44 year absence, a tour revealed changes at our old alma-mater.  How dare they?  The (now called) College of New Jersey is virtually unrecognizable from the charming small college that existed there only a um…a…(gulp!) half century ago. We’re still the same (except for our walkers, limps and added girth, grey and age spots) but everything else is changing so fast!

We returned to the virtual scene of the crime – Decker Hall – where fate placed us next to one another in the fall of 1966 waiting for the dining room to open.  The killer pickup line of, “Waddya think of Stratemeyer?” (Kiddie Lit. Prof.) was only used once but it succeeded and led to a (so far) 43 year marriage. 

Decker Hall has changed – fancier outside and inside (just like us).  The fateful stairwell of our meeting is gone now but so are her ovaries and my ability to fertilize them. Such is life!

Best community of friends of the trip – Coplay, PA where a group of seniors gathers in an upstairs dining room of a local restaurant each week for a cold brew, live Volksmusik, good food and fellowship.

Biggest unexpected outlay of cash – Pennsylvania Turnpike required a total of $29.29 to cross from Ohio to NJ.  Who came up with that weird amount?

Best cleavage of the trip – a tanned whiplash-inducing bimbette at the Quizno’s rest stop in upstate NY.  “Umm…Umm Toasty!” But that is only one old lecher’s opinion.

Worst food of the trip – A greasy sandwich at Quiznos but I hardly noticed it until 76 miles later later. “Umm…Umm…Pfffft!”

Noisiest souvenir purchased – An Irish drum (Bodhran) at the Celtic Fest in Lakewood, NJ.

Best sign of hope – The reclaiming of the seashore boardwalk with new development in Asbury Park, NJ.  Fine restaurants are coming and the decrepit buildings are either being restored or torn down.

After decades of corruption, social, cultural and economic inequalities, there is a seemingly good match-up of folks who share a common bond in oppression and rejection.  African-American and gay and lesbian investors are reinventing the area after all the neglect and squalor.   

Worst traffic/Stupidest driver – The Toronto area has 2,000,000 residents – an estimated 2/3 the total population of Canada – and no matter what time of day or what day of the week, they are all out in their cars on highway 401.  There are some twenty lanes of controlled access highway in each direction and it is crowded.  At 3 p.m. on Sunday afternoon it was stop-and-go from 15 miles east of the city to 5 miles west of the city – except for the one road rage motorcyclist with a death wish who weaved through and in-between the lines of traffic at an estimated 120 kph just before he was pulled over and “counseled” by Sgt. Preston and King.

Sloppiest ice cream waffle cone – The Cone Zone in Belmar, NJ as demonstrated by grand-niece, Cassidy.

Best smells of the trip – searing nitrates at the Blue Claws’ MegaCorp ballpark in Lakewood, NJ wafted through the air as hot dogs sizzled on the grill. 

Coolest U.S. Border Guard – Port Huron, MI who was highly interested in the empty eggshells we brought back from NY via Canada.  Regarding the origin of the eggshells, he took our word for it and ignored the excessive bottles of beverage we purchased at the duty-free store.

Most awkward fit of the trip – we attend two Roman Catholic masses and, as many Protestants often do, we watch the others so we can “blend in”.  We stand up or sit down when all the others do and whisper our own extended ending to the Lord’s Prayer after they are all done with theirs.  Many words of the liturgy were familiar but the tunes were different and they were hard to dance to.

Structured, dignified, respectful….Father O’Grady presiding – makes one visitor yearn for the ol’-time religion of the good Reverend Lowen B. Hold back in the church of the Old Rugged Cross.

Best celebrity of the trip – Grandson, Jacob, who wowed the commencement exercises of Seton Catholic HS in Plattsburgh with his collection of awards and humility.

Proudest moment of the trip – see above.

Greatest relief of the trip – pulling into our driveway and turning off the engine.  Home again!

It was such a joyful place

loping horses, growling tigers

snorting lions

bounding giraffes

circled

the colors, gold leaf, the mirrored lights and

the mighty Wurlitzer music machine

 played the baddest happiest music ever heard.

 The tinny sym-phoney made

the air chuckle, smile and swirl in a

  swaying motion

 floating effortlessly ‘round and ‘round.

Horse chases tiger chases lion chases giraffe

none gaining, none falling behind.

Pick a gold ring

win a free ride!

 The children ran off to Disneyland and video games

the critters galloped to greener pastures

Now its shell sits

 abandoned.

Empty.

A bright neon “Vacancy” sign

flashes in my heart

in the spot the ride used to occupy.

Did you know there used to be a carousel in there?

Asbury Park, NJ June 13, 2010

    A nation that can not afford to educate its children or a nation that chooses to not afford an education for all its children is a nation in trouble. 

    Erosion of time, effort and funds to educate our children are indicators of a sharp decline in this American experiment. It is another blow to the middle class and it further alienates the poor.  It is a severe blow to the founding ideals of, “All men are created equal” and all have the right of equal access to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

     Can we, as a free nation, afford to educate our children?  Can we afford not to? 

     Is the perceived decline in American public education symptomatic of a culture in decline?  If this is the case, is it the school’s role to lead the charge to reverse that trend?  Can schools be at the forefront of social change?  

    There is common agreement that schools need improvement while, at the same time, support for education wanes. The idea of schools needing improvement is not a new phenomenon.  Since the late 19^th century with the original mandate of a free public education for all children, each and every day of the existence of our public school system has been structured for ongoing improvement.  Like a business that has ongoing goals of expansion of production and markets, education, likewise is in a constant mode of seeking to improve its effectiveness. As the demands of society are in a constant state of change schools need to match the pace.

     There is little agreement as to what it would take to make schools better. Schools have tried many different arrangements within the confines of the traditional structure including open classrooms; “classrooms without walls”; ungraded primary classes; back to basics; the science and math explosion of the late 1950s; some pathetically weak competency based models and our current initiative of the No Child Left Behind Act wherein children are being left behind because it robs classrooms of time and resources.

     The variety of actions (or lack of actions) within our communities indicate we can neither manage to pinpoint a cause of the disease of decline (or failure to keep up)nor prescribe a surefire treatment right now. 

      Would it take massive reform within the schools? Would it take infusion of increased funds?  Would it take a radical change to support children outside the classroom?  Would it take some of each? The shortsightedness of the No Child Left Behind Act has raised many more questions and opened more wounds than it has answered or healed.  

     What is an education?  If you ask a hundred experts, you’ll get a hundred different definitions. For some it is a noun as in, “Make sure you get a good education”. But education is also a verb – “I want to educate my children” and it is another noun – a process – one that lasts a lifetime. 

     For the sake of discussion, let’s assume an education consists of three components: First, an ever-growing and increasingly undefinable body of knowledge that is often manipulated to meet the second component – a system of values consisting of cultural content that might be endorsed by one group being served but is rejected by another.  The third component of an education would consist of sets of skills be they physical or psycho-cognitive such as computer skills, math skills or manual dexterity skills that could range from dribbling a basketball to performing micro surgery.

    Our systemic attempt to facilitate the components of an education into the minds and bodies of children are delivered through a process we call schooling (a pseudonym for the process of formal education).

     This schooling usually only happens at specific times and in specific places. The times are during a minor segment of each day (4 to 7 hours) during less than half of each year (180 of 365 days) for only thirteen years (ages 5 to 18) – and it is mandated for only eleven of those years.  The place for this schooling is by and large, inside a space we call “the classroom” which consists of four walls, a chalkboard, some 30 kids who are told to remain quiet and an adult who talks a lot.

     These times and places were originally designed to accommodate the needs of our agrarian society which has been gone for the last hundred years.  Our society has changed but the schools are still in session for the same hours of the same days of the same months as they were when we were a nation of family farms.

     On the surface, the No Child Left Behind Act, seems like a well-intentioned attempt at improving the schools. It employs a scientific model – using test score results to measure the success or lack thereof in our schools.

     The use of testing quantifies education and such measuring sticks show us only a small part of what education is.  The fact the law gives  schools more to do and no additional funding help to do it is counterproductive.

     Looking a little deeper into the inception of that law, there is also suspicion it was politically motivated to discredit public schools and make private and charter schools more appealing.  The early results of the law has primarily served to strengthen the argument in favor of school voucher systems to support selective schools that are clearly not there for everyone.

     We are full of contradictions: we talk about how we value education while we push the lever to vote against more money to support it.  We boast about what our kids are learning yet we offer them little support at home in their pursuit.

     Money is critical but it is not the only ingredient necessary to provide this education.  It takes a proverbial village beyond the classroom, and more time than what is currently allotted to educate a child.

    Considering the realm of school finance alone, we are going in the opposite direction of what many think is needed. Some complain about how much money the teachers make.  There is no question teacher salaries have grown into a profession where a single earner can support a family. That is a fact in which our nation should take pride rather than sling arrows.  Teaching is a profession with incredible responsibilities. Teachers make what they do because they have worked long and hard to bring their profession to the point where it is.  Perhaps the means of funding the teacher salaries needs to be examined, and if it were changed, some resentment might be diffused.  Teachers should not be made to feel guilty about the salaries they earn.  The private sector still has much higher potential for college educated, advanced degree workers.

     In recent years, due to increasing expenses and a reduction of revenues due to both economic downturn and an anti-school populist movement, school administrators and boards of education have to go through an agonizing springtime litany of making cuts to budgets.

     At the same time, pressures and mandates are given to the schools to increase both the content of what they teach and to also provide indicators of improved student learning.

     The old “expect more from less” adage has been stretched to the breaking point and is not working.  Perhaps it is because the factors of time, funding and home support either remain static or are in decline.

      Teachers, administrators and boards are professionals and know what is necessary and good for kids. They do not like to slash and burn content areas, special programs, activities or needed services for children.  If the things they are now being forced to drop were not necessary, they would not be in the schools in the first place. 

     The reasons most school officials, be they elected or hired, are in their positions are because of their belief in the good that schools can accomplish and because of their hopes for the future that will soon be in the hands of these very same children.

     It is not unusual for people in the field of education to suffer from stress related illnesses because of the pressures and negative direction education seems to be headed.

    When it is time to make those cuts, there are certain sacred cows that are never touched.  In many areas of the country, two elements of the schools that never seem to be threatened are athletics and marching band.  Typically, the arts are reduced or eliminated first, (interestingly marching band is not considered as an “expendable” art). Then the enrichment programs are squeezed and cuts are made in support services for children who need extra help. 

     Programs and services that were originally implemented to make the playing field equal for all kids representing their wide range of abilities are pared away. The playing field becomes tilted. And in the face of that all, schools are held accountable to provide improved test scores from all students.

     As an example of desperate funding initiatives, band parents are passionate in support of their kids’ musical involvement. Many have sacrificed extra dollars and time in the purchase of an instrument, in private lessons and they have enforced the discipline of practice at home.  To their credit, band parents are strong advocates for their children. They spend time, effort and money to raise funds earmarked to keep the school music program going with candy sales, bake sales and such. 

     It is an unfortunate reality that many music teachers’ jobs depend on the successes of those sales.  Other programs considered “supplementary” often have to seek survival with the same approach.

     If a group of parents in any local community were to actually have to choose between a quality up-to-date science lab or the opportunity to watch their kids playing Stars and Stripes Forever in the marching band, I think John Philip Sousa would win and the future scientist would lose.  Lifelong lesson here?  Statement of real values here? 

     At The Ohio State University, one of the most high profile positions for a given student is the tuba player who gets to dot the “I” in their marching band’s formation of the word, “Ohio”. At every football game, the word is formed and then the drama of the tuba player unfolds as he/she runs a serpentine route to ultimately land atop the “I”.  The crowd loves this cherished tradition. That particular student is most likely on a full scholarship – an interesting portrayal of values.

     In Michigan, special requests are made via regularly scheduled referendums for the taxpayers to continue to provide additional funding for a certain group of students – special education millage votes. 

     In March 1954, when the Michigan Special Education (funding) Act was passed, intentions were honorable but there have been changes in our society since then. The current practices of funding special education have not kept pace with the costs.

     Two months after Michigan’s Special Education Act was passed we had Brown v. the Board of Education which ruled that separate but equal was not legal or in the best interest of children. Then came the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which set the national tone for the next forty-plus years (so far). 

     The most recent Americans with Disabilities Act (1990) began the latest in a line of legislation protecting the rights of equal access in opportunity for those with challenges that impede their ability to learn.  The spirit of all this legislation follows the message inherent in Brown v. BoE that everyone needs to have the same exposure to the same things in the same place at the same time.  The “playing field” must be leveled for all school children.  Otherwise the premise of “equal access” is invalid. This concept is inherent in our constitutional premise “that all men are created equal”.

     Granted, special education per-pupil costs are higher than other groups. Why? There are smaller classes, support personnel, individualized teaching materials, administrative time and costs to name a few. 

     Why must special needs kids have those things?  Because it is commonly accepted and supported by research that it is a better way to deliver that body of knowledge, the needed sets of skills and value systems to these children who have challenges to their learning. 

     But looking at the other side of that same coin, that millage also allows the taxpayers to single out a particular group of children and deny them what is not only needed but is also required by law.  The cost of not educating special needs kids is much greater in the long run if they are not prepared to be productive and active members of our society. 

     It is interesting to note we often take similar systemic approaches for academically gifted kids even though they do not have a special funding opportunity from the taxpayers.  Why do gifted kids also have smaller classes and enriching experiences? Because it is BETTER for them.  There remains an underlying fear that those same delivery systems might become popularized for the remaining 80% of the kids in the middle. Then we’d have an amazing escalation of costs.

     Since we do have this request of specific voter support for special needs kids, perhaps we should also use that method to add supplementary funding for other select  and equally deserving groups such as athletes, musicians, the gifted and (let’s go all the way) left-handed, kids of various ethnicities, cultures and legal residence status.  Let’s find out where our populace really stands in their support (or lack thereof) of these entities that cost school districts extra money.  Let’s have special millages to show our support of the football team and its head coach and his16 paid assistants.

     When student achievement is low (as measured by test scores) it is the school that takes the beating behind the old woodshed.  When support is needed most, the law punishes the underachieving school by withholding funds.    

    Yet, in many urban area based experimental initiatives for reform, it is not so much a change in what is taught and how it is taught…it is a covenant between the home and the school to change how a child spends his or her time outside the classroom. It is a statement backed up by daily, hour to hour action as to where priorities lie.

     In the most successful experiments, children are presented with high expectations both inside the classroom and outside the classroom and the necessary supports and opportunities are provided to help them meet those expectations.   

     Those opportunities might be as extreme as getting a child out of his or her neighborhood and family structure and into a boarding school setting so they can focus on the primary task at hand rather than dodging bullets, pressures for gang membership, caring for siblings or their own babies or having to sacrifice their childhood to take on adult responsibilities before their time.

     Overriding that is the promise of when it is all said and done, there is more.  Post high-school educational opportunities whether it comes from a four year college, community college or trade school are guaranteed for the kids in these programs.   So, it becomes ingrained in the student’s mind there is something that matters if they do their part.

      Granted, it is nearly impossible for a 13-yr.-old to see four years into the future and let that alone motivate them to keep their noses to the grindstone.  To a 13-yr.-old, four years is an eternity. “Four years from now?  I don’t know if I’ll be able to have dinner tonight!  So don’t give me that four years from now stuff..”

     Many of those kids have been to enough funerals to KNOW that not all will even live that long.  They need constant reminders that there is another way than what they observe.  They need to be badgered from a variety of sources they are valued and there is something of value awaiting them if they take their education seriously.

     If this American experiment is to continue to succeed, we must educate our children.  It has to be a priority. Our national focus has to be more important than developing and employing technology that is built for destruction or for the benefit of a few.  Otherwise, each succeeding generation will add its push to this snowball that has begun to roll down the hill. It will only take a generation or two for it to hit bottom.

     We need to get our wheels back on the track.