Here I am.

Wheeler has been after me for several weeks to get my first post written and published. So, I thought I’d start with a little background information.

I was a teacher before I had my babies. I only taught for a year before they came along, but in that time I managed to teach in the two most opposite situations there could possibly be. First, I was at Parker High School, an inner-city school that had little money and fewer resources. Just to give you an idea of our “resources” (or lack thereof), we had to bring our own toilet paper and make our own copies outside the school (paid for with our own money). My classes had between 30 and 35 kids, but I only had about 25 desks. In spite of all that, I loved teaching there. Once I got past the typical teen attitudes, the kids and I got along great. I felt like my classroom was a semi-sanctuary within the otherwise ugly, dirty, sometimes scary world that was these kids’ lives. I felt really terrible for leaving, and I would have stayed if it weren’t for the principal. He was absolutely terrible. I shouldn’t say that. He was never there, so he might have been a genius. However no teacher will ever know if that’s true because they’re too busy doing their job plus all the administrative tasks that don’t get done in the office. Anyway, I’m not writing to complain about Parker. I just want to set up the difference between there and my next job. Oh, my favorite part about being at Parker was that I was known as “that white lady.” (That’s much better than what Wheeler wanted me to be known as on this blog – “Big Momma”.)

From Parker, I moved to Hoover High School, a fairly wealthy suburb south of Birmingham. If you’ve ever seen MTV’s Two-A-Days, that’s the school. Not to mention that my classes were vastly different (I was going from teaching 9th grade world history to 12th grade AP Economics), but the facility was amazing. My classroom was huge. Not only did we have a teacher’s lounge, but that lounge was actually a nice place to relax and eat lunch. There were private “phone rooms” where teachers could make confidential parent calls. We had a full-time person whose only job was to make copies for all the teachers. The principal was fantastic. In a school with over 200 teachers, she made it a point to remember my name and even invite me to have lunch with her on more than one occasion. So, as you can see, this was a little different than my first job.

Now, I’m still a teacher but only part-time. I work for the Caddo Parish School Board as a Homebound teacher. In this job, I go into students’ homes and teach them assignments that they’re missing because of illness or some other reason. It’s a great way to stay in tune with the world of education while not sacrificing time with my babies. While I love being a teacher, I love being a mom more.

Anyway, I tell you all this, not because I think I’m that important, fascinating, or otherwise worthy of having people read about me. These experiences shape a lot of the way I see the world; hence they will be an important part of many of my future posts. Until then….

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Speaking Metaphorically, Of Course

The headline:

Preacher hopes to bring quiet to Queensborough

And a bit further into the article:

[Evangelist Melvin Slack] targets neighborhoods with high crime rates. In September and October, he held events in the Martin Luther King Jr. neighborhood.

“A lot of people are not just going to come inside the church building,” he said. “More people are outside walking the street who need a word from the Lord.”

Two giant speakers aimed their message at anyone in the surrounding blocks. 

No word on how this holy noise pollution fits into Mayor Cedric Glover’s neighborhood quality of life initiatives.

Blog Update

Needing to spice up the NorLa Blog, I’ve invited a contributor to join. She ought to be posting any day now.

If Looks Could Kill . . .

Then the guy in class tonight who asked a question after the Prof said “That about does it, unless anyone has any questions” would be six feet under right now.  Really? Are you deaf, or just dumb? He just said WE CAN LEAVE unless anyone has questions. That means if you ask a question, we don’t get to leave. Nothing is important enough to justify extending class. Ask it on your own time, if you’re that desperate.

I don’t know who first said there is no such thing as a stupid question, but anyone who parrots that line is pretty naive. I’ve got my own list of dumb questions. That guy’s question tonight? Stupid. It’s an education class; they aren’t for learning, they’re for getting certified. Hence, the only goal is to get them done asap. For a similar reason, you could also add any question asked during a faculty meeting. Every second in the meeting is a wasted second. Don’t waste any more than necessary.

I’m being a bit of an ass, here, but still in every class, in every meeting, there’s always that one person who has to ask about everything. “Should we do that in pen, or pencil?” “Are we supposed to e-mail that to you and ‘cc’ to the assistant principal, or e-mail to the assistant principal and ‘cc’ to you.” “I know you probably said this while I was in the restroom, but . . . ”  “Wait, did you say the next meeting is at half past three, or at three-thirty?” Never fails. Nor does it ever fail to make me roll my eyes and audibly groan.

Technology Gratis Technologi

I’m not a luddite; I have a blog, you know. And I frequently give my kids their notes via power point. To let them have a break from my voice, and provide better instruction, too, I like to show them videos from the internets on whatever topic we might be covering, though always with a guide for note-taking.

Still . . .

Every Thursday we have to submit our lesson plans for the next week on-line and on paper.

We have to maintain a paper grade book and an on-line gradebook. Not just print a back up hard copy every week, but maintain the two simultaneously. One handwritten the old school way, and one entered into the computer.

When absent, we have to use the on-line sub-finder and call the school. The on-line thing is a great organizer for a school with lots of teachers and lots of absences. We have less than twenty teachers, and we never had a problem finding subs with the old call it in method. The on line thing solved a problem we never had. And it costs money.

There’s also the joy of the tidlewave of often conflicting information delivered orally, by paper memo, and by e-mail. With no rule as to what takes priority when they disagree.

Today, we began the process of creating class forums on-line. This school is probably three quarters free lunch. Most of these kids do not have computers at home. Hence, they can’t access the forum. Even if they could, this is the same bunch that routinely miss questions on my tests even when I put the answers on the board during the test. Sometimes, in order to see if they pay attention to what I write on the board, during a test I will write underneath the daily objectives something like “the answer to 16 is b.” Large portions of the class always miss the question. So the same group that can’t be bothered to look up at the board for information is now going to log into a school forum and check for the day’s homework? Not.gonna.happen.

Small World

Yesterday morning, we met one of Jenny’s friends for breakfast here in Shreveport. The friend is from Wyoming. Jenny is from Tupelo. They met in Boston. She was one of Jenny’s bridesmaids at our wedding in Arkansas, but that was actually the last time they had seen each other. The friend is married and works as a lobbyist in D.C. Neither Jenny nor I had ever met the husband. They also have a six month old baby, who was wearing a New York Mets hat, which I, a Mets fan, commended. Thereupon, the following conversation took place:

Friend’s husband (inquisitively, somewhat surprised that someone in Louisiana would follow the Mets): “Oh, you’re Mets fan?”

Me (answering the direct questions): “Yeah, unless they sign A-Rod, that is.”

Jenny (answering the unasked question): “He grew up in New Jersey.”

Friend’s husband: “Really. Where?”

Me: “Monmouth and Ocean Counties.”

Friend’s husband: “Get out, I grew up in Monmouth.”

Me: “No way, where?”

Friend’s husband: “Sea Girt, I went to Manasquan High School.”

Me: “No kidding? I did to.”

Friend’s Husband: “When were you there?”

Me: “I only went one year, but it was 1990-1991.”

Friend’s husband: “We went to high school together, my freshman year was 1989-1990, so I would have been a year ahead of you.”

Me: “Wow. This is weird.”

And it was. To start, the school was pretty small, couldn’t have been more than four hundred students. I only went for one year, too. So the pool of potential school mates into whom I could bump is pretty small. Then to do so in Shreveport, Louisiana? Unreal. Oh, and the reason they were in Shreveport in the first place? Jenny’s friend’s grandmother lives here, in of all places the same neighborhood in which we just bought a house. Like I said, weird.

The Bird Is In The Oven

First time since 2001 that we haven’t hosted turkey day, but “we” (read: Jenny) still get to cook the main course. The family gathering will be out at our grandmother’s. Cooking for everyone would have been way too much work for any one person, so everybody is bringing something. We got the turkey.

That’ll be early afternoon, then it’s off to my step-sister’s for drinks and desert this evening. I wanted her to host the whole things, but for some reason she did not want to have fifteen to twenty people over for dinner three days after moving into her new house. So selfish. 😉

What am I thankful for? That I’m done painting our new house. Now I get to work on the floors, which ought to be done in time for us to move over the Christmas break. Even if it takes a bit longer, though, it will be done in plenty of time for me to be thankful for Thanksgiving at our house next year.

Barry Bonds, Mike Vick and Nooses in Jena

Interesting question on the S’port Yuppie blog:

I’m sure many of you heard about the march on Washington Friday. In case you missed it, people from all over the country led by Al Sharpton marched around the Justice Department to demand more enforcement of hate crime laws. . . .

[I]f the federal government can deem it urgent and necessary to intervene on behalf of dogs (i.e. the Michael Vick dog abuse case) and baseball (i.e. the steroid case with Barry Bonds) can’t we at least agree that more federal action should be taken against a hate crime that symbolizes decades of gruesome, brutal, unjust murders committed throughout this country against a race of people?

What’s next is my attempt at an answer.

To begin, I think the author intended the question to be rhetorical, but the answer is far from obvious. There are two very different issues with each of the alleged crimes. First, should the substantive act be a crime, and second, if so, should it be a federal crime? The first questions involves issues of right, wrong, and the responsibilities of the government. It is not enough to say “x is wrong,” you also have to argue “x is so wrong that x ought to be criminalized.” The second question takes you into constitutional law and general policies of federalism. Like it or not, the constitution does not give the federal government carte blanche to create and enforce criminal laws. Even if it did, the wisest policy is often to leave it to the states.

Given the many issues involved, I think there are several reasonable conclusions about which of the three examples deserves federal intervention. In other words, there are a lot more reasons than just race for a person arguing that federal action was essential for Mike Vick and Barry Bonds, but not for whoever hung the nooses in Jena. It might be a belief that symbolic acts like noose-hanging should never be crimes. Or it might be a belief that because the noose hanging was a completely local event, it does not justify federal interaction. It could be something else. Race could be the reason, too, but not necessarily.

Now, here’s my view on all three cases.

I’ve already explained my reasoning for Vick. His case ought not be a crime at all, and definitely not a federal crime. I love my dog, but no amount of harm done to an animal justifies putting a human being in jail (unless the harmed animal belonged to another human, of course). Even if you think humans ought to go to jail because of harm done to an animal, nothing Mike Vick did hurt anyone outside Virginia. Let Virginia’s government take care of it.

As for the noose, I won’t apologize for saying someone ought to have the same right to hang a noose from a tree that they would to burn a flag in a public square (or draw unflattering cartoons of Mohammed). Both are pure forms of expression and thus ought to be fully protected by the first amendment. Both are symbols, they do not cause anyone any concrete harm. At bottom, every argument for criminalizing these expressions is some shade of “it offends me.” I have no doubt that the hurt feelings are real, but hurt feelings don’t justify jail time. They’re the very cheap price of a free society. Don’t like the hurtful expression? Counter it with expressions of your own.

Even if you think the government should be policing our opinions and attitudes, the Jena case still ought not be a federal crime. Sure, the case made national news, but who outside Jena, Louisiana could possibly have been harmed by that noose? There is no justification for making taxpayers in Arkansas, Montana, and Maine pay for protecting the sensibilities of people in Jena, Louisiana. It ought to have been a state issue, at most.

Bonds is a little more tricky.

If this was just a case of him using steroids, I would adamantly oppose federal intervention, and probably even state intervention. By taking steroids, he hurt two things: Himself and baseball. Whether it’s smoking, trans fats, drugs, seat belts or motorcycle helmets, I’m of the view that no government has the right to protect people from themselves. As for the harm to baseball, MLB is perfectly capable of solving its own problems. And if they don’t think steroids are a problem? BFD. There’s no need to spend limited government resources protecting a game, even if it is the national pastime.

The problem, however, is that this is one of those “We couldn’t prove you did anything wrong, but you lied while we were trying” cases. Perjury is serious. The legal system depends on people knowing they will be in deep s**t if they lie under oath. So when folks lie, criminal charges are appropriate. Bonds is accused of lying during a federal investigation, so federal charges are the correct charges.

Still, the initial investigation was just so ridiculous. This isn’t the type of case where the government had a legit charge but could not make it stick. This is the type of case where the charge itself was the problem. So even though Bonds committed what would otherwise be a legit federal crime, I’m going to say that I think he ought to walk.

In short, I don’t think the federal government ought to be intervening on behalf of dogs, or steroids, or nooses.

One More Room To Go

And then I’ll be done with the painting.

My kids will never be able to say of me as my wife could say of her dad, that he built their house with his own hands. But hey, I have painted just about all of its 2,200 square feet my own dang self. In so doing, I’ve probably spent five hundred bucks on the paint. (I borrowed all the equipment from a buddy who told me I could use whatever I wanted so long as I did not ask him to help.) Over three weekends plus today and tomorrow, the total time spent working is about 52. Due to those hours, I’ve missed about 250 miles of bike rides.

Would I do it again? Probably.

Leaving the house as-is was not an option. All but two rooms were completely white; a flat and very dingy white with all the warmth of your average weekly rate hotel room. The non-white rooms were gawd-awful wallpaper and vintage seventies wood panelling.  Hideous.

So the only question was do it myself or hire someone. I think I made the right call. Money wise, I’m wayyyy ahead of what it would have cost to get someone to do it. Time is money, too, of course. But even as much as I hate painting, my time isn’t worth enough to justify paying someone else to do the job. A pro would have done a much better job. But again, not better enough for me to have hired one. And I get that manly feeling of satisfaction that comes with working on your own house.

Now I get to tackle the floors.

Am I That Old? Or Is Radio That Bad?

It’s probably a bit of both, though I am only 28, but lately I’ve found myself listening to and enjoying the John Tesh Radio Show. The music is sort of bland eighties and nineties pop stuff, and the DJ compliments it with bland pop psychology. Still, it’s a nice alternative to the same ten songs played by the standard issue musically ignorant middle-aged-but-still-trying-to-party-like-a-college-kid dufus featured on the rock stations.