Driver's Ed

     Braden was second on the wait list for his school's winter driver's education classes—free and assigned based on lottery draw due to the limited slots in the popular twice per year classes. But then he moved up and got in, hallelujah!

     Amazing to me, he and his cousin Julie aren't all that keen on learning to drive—both because they've gotten used to catching The Bus, while Julie also catches rides with friends. But I felt that for Braden, if he is to live the adventuresome, independent life that I suspect he'll one day crave, driving will be a very worthwhile skill to have. Now's as good a time as any to learn as it's free, he's pretty responsible, and he has the time.

     At an introductory overview meeting that mandated a parent's attendance, Deanne learned that fifty hours of driving outside class (ten hours night time) was “required.” The course would consist of a first half of lectures and a second half of behind-the-wheel driving. I'd decided that I wouldn't take him driving because it (the stress) would kill me, so that he'd have to take private lessons (since Deanne wasn't up to the task, either). Turns out lessons cost (per Braden's research) sixty dollars an hour! I'd earlier told him he'd have to pay for these lessons so that he'd have “skin in the game” and would therefore take them more seriously. But the total cost of $60 x 50 = $3,000 was Yikes! expensive for a little over a week of driving. (Turns out the hourly rate translates to $120,000 per year! For driving?)

     But after I thought some, it occurred to me that it might be alright to teach him some. I might not overstress. It could be a good one-of-the-last-things-we-do-together while he's still at home. Just give him a wide open parking lot and let him go. That's how I'd learned best, alone in the school's band parking lot with a friend's stick shift Dodge Colt. Just going slow, turning, reversing, seeing what would happened if I did this or that and noting the car's reaction until it became an extension of me. I'd just be there to give occasional tips and guidance and let him go.

     So we went. Well, first we did a five minute start-the-car, learn the controls, adjust the seats and mirrors, shift gears, release the handbrake (not in that order) drill in our garage. Then we went to our former church's parking lot where he reversed, drove around in circles, parked, pressed the accelerator and brakes, got the RPMs to hit 750, etc. for an hour. Then the following week we did another hour—same place—where he looped around in both directions to get closer to road-ready since his on-road driving is approaching quick.

     He's slowly (literally) getting the feel and coordination as we crawl along the lot, oversteering less, not pulsing the accelerator so much, holding a steadier pace even on slopes. I taught Deanne to drive (awful strain, stress, and pain) and he's progressing a lot better because of greater instinctive feel. To my surprise (and relief) he hasn't been giddy-excited (like Deanne had initially been), maintaining a sober, thoughtful state throughout. He won't be D.E.'s fastest learner, for sure, but he won't be its slowest, either. My guess is he's about average.

     That suits me fine as I trust he's more responsible than the average D.E. teen. He's just not into showing off, being one of the (reckless) boys, or hopefully, using the car to vent his teen angst. In that regard, he may do a heck of a lot better than his old man did at his age. (I didn't wreck any cars, but I was far from the safest driver.)

Sensitive Jaren, Part II

     After the kids' last day of school, I'm lying in bed exhausted and hear Jaren in the living room crying. It's not an angry or complaining cry—I don't hear Braden's or Pene's voice or movements accompanying his—he's just upset about something.

     “Jaren? Why are you crying?” I call.

     “I don't want to leave third grade,” he says.

     This is a surprise. He's never mentioned it before. “Come here.” He comes in, still crying more than a whimper, less than a bawl. “Stand here where I can see you.” His eyes aren't flooded with tears but he is upset. “Why don't you want to move on to fourth grade?”

     “I don't know. It's hard to explain.”

     “Did you look at your report card?” I saw the packet on the table, but hadn't yet examined its contents.

     “Yes.”

     “And you did all right?”

     “Yes.”

     “Did your teacher say anything?”

     “No.”

     “Are you afraid of fourth grade or the teachers for some reason?”

     No, he says. We talk a bit about the fourth grade teachers, both of whom had been at the school for years with steady-if-not-spectacular reputations. Our two older kids had liked them fine.

     “I just want to stay in third grade,” he says.

     I explain that last year, we tried to have him held back (because he's a late born and will always be the youngest in his school relative to his classmates and he could have benefited from the extra year to mature) but the principal wouldn't have it. “I know he won't allow it again this year and I don't want that for you anyway,” I say. “I'll discuss it with Mom, but you're ready to move on. You'll do fine in fourth grade.” I think a bit more and ask, “Is it because you like your teacher?”

     “All the teachers,” he says, which triggers more crying.

     So we talk about his teachers. “Do you want a hug?” He nods, climbs up, and puts his arm around me and head beside mine. I cradle him and stroke his head and back. He feels better and so do I. “Mom's home,” I say in response to loud knocks and he runs to open the door for her.

     He cries while explaining to Deanne, then plays his plastic recorder, stopping often in the middle of “Supercalifrajalisticexpialadotious” to cry. It's his way of coping—distraction.

     During dinner, when it's Jaren's turn to share, I ask him how his day went and he says he attended the fifth grade graduation and awards ceremony. I ask, “Is that where you earned your certificate" (that's taped to the living room wall)? He affirms and says it's for his involvement with a club at school. He describes the rest of his day and ends by saying, I noticed most of the boys cried, but not many girls.

     “The fifth grade boys or third grade boys?” I ask.

     “Third grade.”

     “When? At graduation?”

     “No, in class.”

     “When did they start crying?”

     “One of the boys started from the morning.”

     “Why?”

     “Because he didn't want to leave third grade.” Thus it became apparent that Jaren's crying was sympathetic—in response to the other(s) crying in his class. It didn't seem likely to me that he'd cry simply for the reason he stated had it not been imprinted in his head by someone else's example. He's quick on the uptake, and quick to imitate, sometimes for bad (inappropriate language or attitudes), sometimes for good. His ability to empathize is a good thing, I guess, at least for now. (Would that more people had such ability the world would be a better place. Jesus cried over Lazarus' death even though he knew he was going to raise him back to life. I'm not comparing Jaren to Jesus, but sympathetic crying sometimes indicates strength, not fault or weakness. And empathy is a virtue in too short supply these days.)

Realistic Expectations

     Braden, for the first time ever, is considering the possibility of entering the military straight after high school, not just as a last ditch option—praise God! Prior to this, whenever I'd asked him what his hopes or plans were, he always said “Probably college”—meaning a four year university, at which point I'd remind him of the expense and extreme difficulty of graduating unless he studies really, really hard as it is very competitive and demanding and if he thinks high school is hard, think again, college is way, way harder and slacker attitudes don't cut it, and if he thinks we're going to pay all that money for him to fool around and not put his best effort in and not graduate, then he's got to think again. Or something to that effect.
     I wasn't trying to discourage him, really, I was trying to motivate him—to prove that's he's worthy now, by making straight A's, and by putting in hours of study effort every night, meeting with teachers, or whatever it takes to do it, effort that would show he's worthy of attending college despite less than stellar grades and struggles time and again in his chief academic subjects of math, English, science, and history. But it's never, ever sank in sufficiently and he's always put in minimal effort to get by (in my eyes) because whenever I'd ask him what he'd learned or what he'd studied, or asked him follow-up questions, he'd all-too-often struggle to explain himself as if he weren't quite sure. Or when I'd ask him to look up a word he'd mispronounced, he'd fume and vent as if he hated having to do it. And he'd get mediocre grades and not follow-up on them by redoing the work to make sure he'd finally “gotten it.” And on and on and on. 
     I think I have a fairly realistic view of academics and for Braden to thrive in the university environment would take a love of learning and studying and knowing stuff and excelling that he just doesn't possess at this time and with time running out (he's a sophomore), I've made clear time and again that he's got to start now if he's serious about college. But he never has shown such change.
     So it was a blessed relief when I recently asked him and he said, “Maybe the military.” Our family has a history with the military: though my parents and grandparents were excused for medical reasons, uncles and granduncles have served honorably and a few are already interred at Punchbowl National Cemetery. I've told him about the G.I. bill-type benefits that would pay for his college if he served for an agreed number of years.
     But I mentioned his medical condition (a mild genetic disorder) that might (though not very likely) prevent him from passing the physical. What's your backup option, then? I asked.
     He said maybe a trade school such as construction or electrical.
     I said that's viable—you could go to a two-year community college for that, though construction is very hard, physical work (and dangerous—a wall could fall on you, you could fall off a ladder or ledge, you could step on a nail) and guys who get into it love working out and tend to be competitive and don't like slacker coworkers or those unable to keep up and I don't see those traits in you (as he hates to exercise, never does workouts on his own, and when forced to, only does the minimum at that.) But I did say, You could be an honest handyman or other skilled worker and make a good living that way as those are always in demand.
     What about cooking? I later asked. 
     “I haven't ruled it out,” he said.
     I said that if you're interested in it, the route is not directly to KCC's (Kapiolani Community College's) prestigious culinary school that is super-competitive, but going straight to work in a kitchen. Learn there for two, three, or four years everything about the job—it's hard, stressful work, hot, uncomfortable, and demanding. Some people, after they get a degree, work in a commercial kitchen and discover they hate it, then switch careers to something else. Find out first if you like that pressure-cooker environment and if you do, after a few years, then enter culinary school. By then you should have ideas of how to make things better—that's what a chef does, creates new things.
     Later it occurred to me that perhaps more practical and likely is his doing what my mom did all her working life and what so many of my coworkers in the state do: administrative clerical work. I explained to him that a two year degree at a community college would prepare him and he'd work with mostly women and just do what he's told. The pay isn't great but he could work his way up as certain did in my state department and are now division heads. 
     So he's no longer just thinking about entering a four-year college straight out of high school. I told him this wouldn't preclude such a degree. Even if you don't go the military route, you could save and finance college on your own after you start working. People who pay their own ways through college take studying very, very seriously, knowing how expensive it is and how long it takes to save enough money. They don't take their educations for granted.
     I don't mind investing in his future. I just can't stand the thought of flushing money down the drain on slacker play-around attitudes. Especially not at the out-of-this world college tuition and room and boards rates these days. (They were cheap during my college days by comparison!)

Candy Store Keys

     Without our realizing it, Jaren has likely been for years abusing his keys to the candy store of the D.O.E's creation.
     The state Department of Education (D.O.E.) in response to federal mandates, I guess, has for years required all parents to deposit monies into a child's lunch money on-line account, which parents do not have access to to monitor proper deposits or expenditures by their child or to insure no thefts have occurred. Parents must therefore request receipts for deposits and calculate the account's depletion rate over time by multiplying school days between replenishments of funds by cost per lunch.
     According to Deanne's and Braden's calculations, the balances have been proper for Braden and Pene who have to deposit cash—no checks allowed. Since Jared's school accepts checks, we never bothered to recalculate for accuracy.
     Big mistake. Last Friday, Pene approached Deanne and said, “When I picked up Jaren at school, a lady I never saw before approached me and said, 'Hi, I'm the school lunch monitor; I know your mom. Does she know Jaren's been eating second breakfasts and that's why his lunch monies keep running out so fast?'”
     We asked Jaren about it and he admitted he “took a few breakfasts and once or twice took second breakfasts and that was all.”
     Deanne attempted to compute the approximate misuse of funds and came up with several dollars worth missing, but without remembering actual balances reported to her (via a note in Jaren's binder when his account runs low), I knew it was largely guesswork. Nonetheless, I made Jaren pay us sixteen dollars plus gave him time-out all weekend and told Deanne to request the school to print-out all expenditures from Jaren's account by day and amount over the past year.
     On Monday, she got the list I requested that showed over fifty dollars of expenditures on breakfasts dated from when Deanne started working full-time late last year and second breakfasts, juice, and milk (most certainly chocolate—he has a sweet tooth) dated back to the beginning of the year, all of which he knew he was not supposed to purchase, which he kept secret, then lied about after we asked. I told Deanne this has probably been going on for years.
     So I had Jaren empty his wallet, which came out to approximately fifty dollars, plus gave him time-out the remainder of the month, plus took away some toys when he immediately disobeyed my order not to play.
     I then told Deanne to request the school to allow Jaren to purchase only lunches and nothing else.
     The school in response said that the system won't allow blanket blocks (comparable to parental computer controls over PC's) but they'll notify the lunch monitor to restrict Jaren's purchases according to our wishes. She also said we weren't the first to request this.
     What's disturbing about the D.O.E.'s role in this was that it was all avoidable and it took a nice, caring, conscientious lunch monitor to notify our daughter of Jaren's ongoing thievery. We should also have been notified immediately when it occurred years ago and initially been given the option to restrict purchases to lunches only, I believe.
     Not to get alarmist, but white-collar criminals start exactly this way. Steal a little once. See what happens. Nothing? Try again, this time a little more. Still okay? Get greedier and greedier and greedier. I'll never get caught, the perpetrator thinks.
     It's like tempting kids then teaching them the wrong ethical lesson when they succumb to temptation: steal from then lie to your parents.
     This anything-goes lunch-money account use by kids also can't be helping our nation's explosive obesity epidemic. If you're bored, eat! Why play outdoors, eat instead! it seems to suggest. And it's sad to think how many kids never get caught and carry out such thievery beyond elementary, middle, and high schools to clubs, workplace, or anywhere else they have easy, unaccountable access to money.

Common Core Standards (or More of the Same)

     The jury is in:  Common Core Standards is NCLB Part II, meaning schools continue to teach to the standardized tests to the detriment of students' health, creativity, independent thinking, leadership and team development, societal values, socialization, artistry, and chief of all, schools' reason for being: love of learning.  For I don't know a single child who loves this Phd developed teach-to-the-test curricula that focuses to an obscene degree on grilling students on test taking techniques via test after test after test of sample questions that are disguised as homework.
     I don't know of any credible teacher that loves this shove-it-down-their-throats mandates.
     I can't imagine any good, caring, loving, thoughtful parent that would love doing it themselves.
     Here are some of the evidence of this misfocus, forced by politicians in Washington D.C. who are making captive schools who want big grant dollars (bribes)--nearly everyone--to their fixed, know-it-all agendas:

• None of my kids have regular P.E.  Our nation is in the midst of an obesity and sedentary lifestyle health-related epidemic--even among growing numbers of youth--and more and more schools are choosing to reduce or cut P.E. to try to make arbitrary test cut-off scores.
• Same's true with art, though ample evidence suggests that students who take art tend to do better in academics.  (There appears to be a link between creativity and analytical problem solving.)
• I ask my kids everyday, "What did you learn in school today?" and they so often draw blanks because they spend class time reviewing (getting drilled on) test taking techniques or taking quizzes and tests.  Most nefarious is "computer time" during which they mostly take sample standardized tests.  This should be banned during normal school hours as it's just a form of lazy "teaching."  In essence, it's T.V. with an academic sheen:  Kids hunt for answers (in text, say) and forget all the content.  Getting the correct answer is all that matters, learning is secondary (or inconsequential).
• The school topics my kids get excited about are largely non-academic:  politics (Braden), orchestra and teacher jokes and anecdotes (Pene), games and other social contacts (Jaren).  Thank God they have something that engages them in school.  Too bad it's not more often academics.

     The whole notion that a nation of expert standardized test takers will be comprise a better prepared and qualified workforce for international competition is absurd.  How would our nation's greatest leaders and businessmen and scientists even have done on these standardized tests?  Think Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, Franklin, Ford, Edison, Carnegie, Jobs, Walmart, Gates, King Jr., Whitney, Tesla, Oppenheimer, Patton, Tubman, MacArthur, Souza, Ellington, Gershwin, Lewis, Clark, Armstrong?  I think some would have scored miserably.  I think most would have hated them and thought them ridiculous wastes of time.
     Come on, can't we inject some common sense into our national academic agenda?  Shouldn't making all students life-long lovers of learning be objective number one at all our schools?  For of what benefit is superior test taking skills if a student hates learning and quits after high school or enters college only "to get a better job" while seeking to just get by with as little learning as possible?  Will that make him or her more competitive?  Or our nation stronger if more and more students feel that way?
     In business school, we learned that if you want to improve performance, measure that which you want improved.  Let's come up with better measures of student learning and love of learning than standardized tests.  We can do better and did do better, even when I was a kid and yes, when I loved learning. 

Child Safety Concerns

     Every school year the Department of Education (DOE) and/or our kids' schools send home media release/Student Publication forms with our kids for us to sign saying, in essence, the schools may or may not use photo/video images of them, their names and/or other identifying information (school, age, grade, club, etc.) and print, publish, or post on the Internet any such material at anytime they choose.
     One of the forms states that we may opt out by submitting a signed letter but warns that grievous consequences may result from blanket block-outs such as exclusion from year book photos and awards or graduation rolls. School administrative staff have informed us, too, that participation in certain club/class/school events, and the like, that are blanket video recorded may be jeopardized.
     When our kids were younger, I wrote opt out letters every year, mostly out of concern over Internet postings. Who knows what psychopath, able to easily track down our kids could or might do?—the Internet is open to all, reasonable and unreasonable, stable and unstable.
    In the letters I listed what usages were acceptable (year book photos, awards lists, printed newsletters, and the like) and those that weren't (posting photos, videos, or personal identifying information on the Internet).
     The DOE should do all parents a favor by creating an opt-out check list form of all potential media usages such as:

  □ Internet posting of photos

  □ Internet posting of videos

  □ Internet posting of personal identifying information

etc., that parents could use to check off all unacceptable usages.

     I shared this idea with Deanne, saying this will never happen because the DOE/schools do not want any parents to opt out because it creates more work for them to track kids that can and can't be included in this or that. And it exposes them to liability should a child's image or name appear somewhere that it wasn't supposed to. So rather than do the right thing and provide parents with such an easy-to-use, sensible tool, they place the burden on “troublesome”, “paranoid”, or “demanding” parents to create their own tailor-made opt out letters, knowing most parents won't bother. And they wrote one of these forms in such a manner as to scare parents into feeling like slime for opting out and causing their kids to stick out like pariahs to classmates, staff, and classmates' parents.
     Fortunately, this hasn't happened to our kids mainly due to sympathetic teachers (most or all of whom had kids of their own). During May Day, they strategically placed our kids somewhere in back where they wouldn't likely appear on the official video, enabling them to participate with all their classmates. And they were included in newsletters sent home that listed high achievers, perfect attendees, etc.
     So the system worked, but made it unnecessarily difficult for parents. (I doubt whether all schools would be equally accommodating by strategic placements, etc. I can image some saying, “You can't participate because you might appear in the school's video.”)
     The DOE should do the right think by making it far easier for parents to selectively opt out use of their kids' images or information without deploying scare tactics or making them out to be pariahs or pains or anything negative. It was a good law that gave power to parents to control this vital material concerning their children. It should thus be implemented with nonjudgmental good will by the DOE and schools, too.

Signs of Maturity

     When Braden was yet in diapers, too young to talk, I once prepared for him his usual breakfast of cut fruit, Cheerios, and milk. Braden always ate with healthy enthusiasm and this morning was no different, but after ingesting a few spoonsfull, he looked in his bowl, reached in with a hand to explore the contents beneath, said, “Humph!” with down-turned lips, opened his mouth wide—enabling me to see the cave-like ridges on the roof of his mouth—and let out a long, agonized wail.

      I realized in an instant what had happened: for perhaps the first time ever, there was no cut bananas—we had run out. I said with a bemused smile, “What? It's okay, I gave you plenty to eat.  You don't need bananas every day.”

      He kept on eating through his tears and sudden gulps that caught his throat like hiccups and within a couple minutes settled to his usual placid state. Obviously he was just upset 'cause he didn't get what he expected.

      I smiled at it then as I smile at it now 'cause it was so characteristic of him to react with such strong, sudden, hot, demonstrative forcefulness over such a small, unpleasant stimulus. He could be an emotional bugger like me.

      This past school quarter, one of his class electives—positive in most ways—was a distraction to him, demanding lots of time and effort that should more appropriately have been spent on academics, not on the fun but rigorous and otherwise demanding elective. As mentioned in my prior Choices essay, Braden's academics have been a serious struggle for him this past quarter mostly because he was not exerting the time and effort on them necessary to thrive. He was instead cruising (slacking) in these honors History, Math, Science, and English classes and floundering with all too frequent C's, D's, and F's.

      By quarter end, his academics had improved to marginally acceptable, but only just. His attitude, though, still had a ways to go. So based on these and other factors, I had him cancel his eighth period (non school-hours) elective that was becoming burdensome for him and us due in part to inconvenient scheduling. We had warned him that this day might come and he took the disappointment with humble maturity so I gave him back his laptop computer that we had confiscated about a month earlier for inappropriate use, lying, and bad attitudes.

      But then the school counselor advocated for Braden by telling Deanne that the teacher said Braden could rearrange his class schedule to enable him to keep the elective by attending class during study halls and twice a week after school.

      I said this was unacceptable because he needs his study halls for academics, not this one non-essential elective. Because he'd gotten so excited and hopeful about keeping the class, though, this came as a new bitter disappointment to him.

      Braden doesn't cry with open-mouthed wails anymore. But he did cry with hot huffs and tears. And he later fed Deanne some bull about, “It's going to be embarrassing to take next year since I dropped out,” which she ate and regurgitated for me. And he fed her other bull, too.

      But his tantruming didn't last long 'cause he's matured some and realized that it's only temporary—next year he gets three electives and can fit it into his normal class schedule.

      For want of bananas and want of an elective Braden reacted quite consistently, I later realized.

      I told him that life is full of disappointments. I've had many throughout the years. I shook my head and chuckled. It helps to have a sense of humor about it. Life is also full of no's—far more than yes's. No, you can't go to the moon. Or Africa. Or Antarctica. No, you can't heal the world of all its ills. Or end hunger or disease. Or get what you want all the time. Adults take such no's with calm maturity. Or work hard to change things for the better. If you don't like it, get it together and maybe we can add the class back later this year.

     I think he got it. But with youth, as with life, a lot of it is wait and see.

School Gripes

     I've often said that the two most important and underpaid jobs on the planet are pastor and teacher. I've also said that they're two of the most difficult jobs to do well and that I doubt I'd last more than a couple days as a teacher and perhaps a couple months as a pastor, depending, as I don't feel equipped for either. So such practitioners deserve huge amounts of respect for dedicating themselves despite low pay, long hours, and persistent underfunding, all for the intangible benefit of growth of students/parishioners that they may never see.
     Deanne and I have always been very satisfied with all our three kids' public schools and teachers, so it was a huge disappointment to learn of reduced middle school and high school hours and periodic replacement of academic class periods with study hall. For Pene, school hours were reduced from ~8:00 to ~3:00 to ~8:00 to ~2:00 and she now has study hall four days a week. For Braden, hours were cut from ~8:00 to ~2:30 to ~8:00 to ~2:15, and study hall, which meets twice a week, is this year considered optional, thus school days are in essence ~8:00 to ~2:00 for students that choose to skip study hall.
     At Pene's open house, I learned that last academic year, students attended each of six enrolled classes four times a week but that this year such meetings have been cut to three. Teachers emphasized that with this reduction, it's critical that students not fall behind and that they get the most out of each class session because there won't be many opportunities to catch up otherwise, and that the new study hall class is essential to keep on top with the reduced classroom hours and class attendance days.
     The good news is that study hall permits students to get a hall pass and go to whichever teacher they need help from. It's a decent idea in theory, but in practice, I doubt many students that need help use it as designed to improve their grades or understanding—it's expecting an awful lot of students (slackers) to recognize the need to study more, request a hall pass, walk over to the designated teacher, wait in line, ask the teacher for help, sit through explanations, perform additional exercises as necessary, get the pass signed, walk back to study hall, return the pass, and mostly to recognize the need for tutoring and drum up the courage to pursue it in the first place without being told or forced to by a parent or teacher. This is especially true at Braden's high school where study hall is scheduled the last period of the day and is now optional. Will kids voluntarily stay after school dismissal to pursue help? Wasn't this always an option last year before this ill-advised policy change?
     I told Braden that unless he's getting straight A's, he is to always attend and study hall, especially since he's taking a foreign language for the first time, and this from a disciplined teacher with high expectations.
     Pene's school fortunately mandates attendance at study hall, but most of the time she just does homework or reads in it since she always stays on top of her academics. Nonetheless, study hall has effectively reduced her classroom instruction time since there is no teaching in study hall for students like her who don't need additional help. I feel that's short-changing her for being responsible and staying on top of her work.
     I asked one of Pene's teacher, “Whose idea was it to reduce the number of times each class meets per week?”
     He said, “The teachers. After each school year, the faculty discuss how the year's schedule worked and how it might be improved. Last year we ended close to three o-clock and everyone was just dragging by the end of the day—it was just too long. So the idea came up to shorten each day and class meetings per week and make up for it with study hall. We had study hall in the past; for some reason it got dropped.
     This explained a bunch. Last academic year, especially toward the end, Pene's and Braden's classes each had tons of slack days when all they did was watch non-academic movies or only very loosely related Hollywood fare during class time. Some of their classes showed movies in series, too, multiple class sessions in a row.  And sometimes the kids did nothing but attend class parties and watch movies all day long! When I was their age, this never happened.  They even had do-nothing periods, when all they did was “whatever”—as long as they stayed out of trouble. Pene tended to read and Braden tended to put his head down or “do nothing.”
     By the way, Pene's teacher also said that next school year, the schedule will change again due to state legislature mandated increased classroom hours. I hope this doesn't mean more movies, parties, and do-nothing days to give teachers and students a break.

In Their Words

     As a kid, I enjoyed Family Circus comics. The convoluted ways the cartoonist's kids went about carrying out the simplest assignments such as fetching the newspaper or mail as depicted by dashed line routes and diversions—birds nest, garden hose, mud puddle etc.—were some of my favorites as well as when Bill Keane's son supposedly filled in for Dad as cartoonist-for-the-day (even though it was obvious no such thing happened and Dad just wanted to do the strip as if through Billy's eyes). Following his lead, then, here are my kids' writings. (No, joke, they did them themselves and I didn't change a thing except for a few added line spaces for readability.) The only ground rules were minimum word counts of a hundred for Jaren, four hundred for Penelope, and five hundred for Braden. And they had to be works they'd feel proud of and wouldn't later regret for bad spelling, grammar, or punctuation. 
     Braden and Penelope asked, Can we do it on computer? 
     I said, Okay, but you have to touch-type, you can't look at the keys. 
     I caught Braden looking at his hands while typing, so I covered them with a dish cloth. He seemed amused, but continued so I guess he knows the keys well enough. 

Flu + Virus

     Now here's a question: which is better a flu or disease? Any ways, Do you know if there's a new flu and/or virus? Yes or no? I do. If you do than whats the flu? ________________________ If you didn't catch the flu - than your lucky. AND helpful to the hospital workers and medicine-makers. Getting back to the flu question did you answer it? If not, please do. Here's another question: Have you seen the inside of an hospital? Yes, I have No, I didn't. (and please answer this once you see it!) And by heart I find it troubling that a new flu is here and there is no vaccine for the flu.

                                Best wishes for you,

                                Jaren 

(Penelope essay)

Just Something To Think About

     Living in Honolulu, HI isn't all that's it cracked up to be. As a not-so-typical teenager, it definitely has it's ups and downs. But it isn't necessary to go into that, since that's not what I'm writing about. I want to tell you a story. A story about someone that's maybe a bit like you. 

     You know what drives me crazy? When people act like they can control their life. And maybe they can-to a certain extent. But things won't happen just because you say so. Reality check-in people. For instance, when I was little, I announced to all that cared to listen that I would never have to wear glasses. And now in the year of 2015, here I am with-you guessed it-glasses. Morale of the story? Don't tempt fate that way, people.
     Another thing that drives me nuts are my siblings. I'm writing a little bit about them even though they won't be happy. It's my essay. I'll write what I want about them. And they can't stop me. Hah! But to prove that I'm not totally heartless, I'll stop writing about them.
     I'm a reader at heart. I read and dream and (occasionally) take the pen to the paper and write. I've read tons and tons of books. Books that make you cry and books that'll make you laugh and some very solemn and silly books. But I won't read just any book, just like you won't read anything your parents set before you. I have a criteria for my books. Every time I pick up a book, I run through a mental criteria, as shown below:

My Criteria for Books

1. Is the book fiction? If no, then I probably won't read it. Refer to #4. If yes, keep going.
2. Is the book a series? Is the series recent? Keep going if yes or no.
3. Is the book weird in any way? If yes, then return to shelf. If no, keep going.
4. Does it have any basis in history? If nonfiction and no to last question, return to shelf.
5. Does the synopsis scream absurd? If yes, return to shelf and us

     And what I don't like about reading so much is that my teachers keep pestering me to read nonfiction. I despise having to read nonfiction. It's so, so... dull. Like the other week when my English teacher assigned us an article on this website called TeenBiz300. It consists of nonfiction articles that supposedly prepare us for our standardized tests. Do I look like I want to waste my time doing some standardized test?! 
     Anyways, the article I mentioned earlier is about this art collector who bought this relic of a painting and paid some money for it. Then later these guys find a fingerprint and decide that the painting was worth three times as much money than the retail price was. Blah, blah, blah. Incidentally the article was soooo very boring that I nearly fell asleep doing it. I told my teacher that my score is determined by my interest level because she was lamenting the fact that so many of her students did poorly on it. But she scoffed it off. However, I'm positive that its at least a bit true. Back to the article, another reason why I don't like it is because I wasn't the one who was ripped off. I mean, sure I have some sympathy but in the end, I don't care. Bad luck for the retailer. Do you understand what I mean about nonfiction?
     While we're on the topic of school, you might be able to empathize when I say that I detest standardized testing more than nonfiction. I feel that standardized testing is ridiculous. To what extent do colleges check what you got on a test that you did in elementary and middle school? It's a complete waste of time to take those tests, but in the end you still have to take them. Sigh.
     Alright, back to the other things or else I'll just keep on ranting. As you know I like fiction books and dislike nonfiction books. I also like movies, comics and trivia books. When it comes to comics, my family enjoys Peanuts. Really, what's there not to love about Snoopy? He'd make a great person, but a horrible dog. Such is the irony, since Charlie Brown, Snoopy's owner, would make a wonderful dog but a horrible human. 
     When the kids were little we would read Peter Rabbit and Winnie the Pooh. Winnie the Pooh and his friends are now the source of countless very naughty jokes, like: Why did Tigger look into the toilet? Answer: He was looking for his friend Pooh. ( Get it? Poo, Pooh) But something interesting I was told by my older brother was that everyone in those books had a human-like trait. Tigger can't sit still, Piglet is always afraid of everything and is timid, Eeyore is constantly depressed, Kanga has OCD, and Rabbit is always upset about something or someone. Go figure.
     I also read trivia books (as mentioned before) that are usually filled with interesting and (pretty useless) facts. So, actually, I do read nonfiction, just not the type of nonfiction my teachers want me to read. I learn quite a few different things. Things like:

• the secret recipe for Coke isn't so secret
• all of the numbers share a letter with the numbers that follow (one, two, three, four, etc)
• there is no speed of sound
• bulls don't get angry at the sight of the color red
• camels don't store water in their humps.

Interesting, no?
     My reading has it's ups and downs. I can't tell you who won the football game but I can tell you what is a good book. I can't tell you what my favorite video game is but I can tell you something I think I know about the states. I think. Maybe you should try to read a book. See how far you get. 
     How did you like my story? Perhaps I'll come back another day and tell you more. But for now, I think you have enough to think about. Aloha!

(Braden essay)

The Different Benefits of Computers in School

     Computers are very useful tools. They can be used for an almost endless amount of things, from word processing to sending information across the world in the blink of an eye, to solving equations that can take humans countless days to solve to cracking complex codes. All of these things can prove very useful for students to use. Of course students probably will not be solving super hard equations that they will need a computer to solve nor will they be cracking complex codes.

     However students can use computers for other things, such as accessing a countless amount of useful websites, sending information to each other and even using it to revive information.
     All of these thing can be done with a simple computer. Now, one does not need a top of the line high speed processing computer to do this, a simple basic computer will do that. With that computer they can do all of this and even more. In fact, the usefulness of a computer is only limited by one's imagination and one's open mind.
     Because of all these possible things to do with computers I believe students can greatly benefit from being issued a computer to use for his or her studies. Like I said it does not have to be some top of the line name brand computer, a simple inexpensive laptop will be useful and very helpful as well.
     Other than the educational reasons, computers can be used for other things a well. Taking care of a computer will teach students responsibility. They can also learn other life skills as well such as the ability to use technology effectively and efficiently. Also, with the internet, they can learn about what other common people think about a matter and not just a group of “experts” said in some textbook students can benefit from this by learning to keep an open mind. Other benefits can include, being able to use technology in a way that will keep the interest of a student and by using technology a teacher can teach students in new ways. Also, using a computer can also teach important and necessary skills that people will need to have in the future.
     Of course there are many downsides to using computers, but they can be neutralized. Probably the most common thing that will come up is the fact that the computers can be abused and not used properly. To counteract this all you have to do is to put some tracking program in the computers and insure that the students know about it, to eliminate secrecy issues (you can also set up an firewall to prevent students from accessing inappropriate sites. Another concern would be the security issue but, a good firewall should be able to prevent hackers form making trouble.
     (Another thing to think about is the fact that the exact same thing can be said about the teachers and the computers that they are issued.)
     For all of these reasons a computer should be given to each student to use for educational reasons. I strongly believe that students can and will benefit from using computers for school.

     It's I again. 

     It's my belief that good writing is imprinted with the soul of the writer and like a finger print, can not be replicated by any other. My kids' above writings, though not good—in fact, they repulse me—are fair and indicative samples of their current psyches. 
     My inside observations: All three went about their assignments without complaint and even with marked enthusiasm, which alone made them worthwhile. 
     Jaren speaks and writes sloppily. He can do well when he tries, but seldom bothers. 
     Rather than produce quality, Pene went for quantity.
     Braden at age fourteen knows it all including my error in thinking computers don't make kids smarter. 
     All three did age appropriate work, especially considering I gave them only one afternoon and evening to complete their assignments because I wanted them to enjoy them and not feel burdened, for writings often reflect the author's feelings. And I wanted their essay tones to be fun and light, not serious and heavy. (Based on what came out, perhaps next time I'll tell them to try a lot, lot harder and force them to edit again and again and again! Even though I, at their ages, couldn't have done any better, they, by now, should be able to do lots better considering they're far more studious at their ages than I ever was because of today's foolish academic more-is-always-better attitudes toward student achievement. Deanne blames their poor writing on their schools' deemphasis on writing. I blame it on society's over-emphasis on standardized tests, which forces schools to teach-to-the-stupid-tests as opposed to sticking to the tried and true fundamentals—reading, writing, and arithmetic.)

Technology in the Classroom

     The public elementary schools my kids have attended seem to be imitating the private school model in its quest for ever more (non-budgeted PTA wish-list spending) monies. Hawaii's public schools receive budgeted funds from state tax coffers for general operating expenses (general funds), plus capital funds for buildings and repairs (paid from general obligations bonds), plus specials funds (e.g. federal grants) for specific, targeted spending. These public sources cover greater than 98% of schools' funding needs. By contrast, PTA funds are received almost wholly from parents of students via fund-raisers and direct appeals for donations—sometimes for books, materials, and supplies. 
     Now, I believe public school teachers have some of the most difficult and important jobs anywhere and should be paid commensurate ultra-high salaries (versus entertainers, athletes, and overrated corporate CEOs). I also believe they do an excellent job teaching our kids. My gripe with these fund-raisers, then, is not with them, but with the process and results.
     Specifically, every year our elementary school-age kids come home with PTA fund-raiser packets that force us to read the contents and fill out forms even if we just wish to make a monetary donation because unsold tickets (for chili, cookies, and whatever) have to be returned and accounted for. The contents also include packets of other fund-raising opportunities for overpriced consumer goods, the bulky glossies of which may be discarded. It's an annoying waste of time (I have to count the tickets to make sure our kids' packets weren't short-changed lest I get charged for “missing” tickets) and guilt-inducing for Deanne. She always insists we give a certain amount for fear we'll be labeled “cheap” or “unsupportive” at our kids' expense (less attention or favorable treatment).
     I reassure her a token sum is all that's necessary. Schools get ample funds for their needs and the vast bulk of PTA monies for classroom use are spent on unnecessary technology (laptops, tablet computers, etc.)
     She knows my stance on technology in the classroom—an unnecessary crutch, largely ineffectual, and all-too-often just another example of lazy teaching. Kidbiz and Teenbiz are busy-work softwares that force users to read asinine articles and answer standardized multiple choice test questions about them and IXL (Math) is a software that muddles children's minds with endless math exercises. All are teach-to-the-test, test 'em till they go insane modern day torture implements that teachers love because they don't have to do a thing—just assign the work and forget about it, the softwares do the rest (self-correct, retest ad infinitum, and display results).
     Granted, these tools probably have improved my kids' standardize test scores a few percentage points, but at what cost? They hate these programs. I know because they never come home saying, “Awesome, I got to retake Kidbiz three times because I didn't score eighty-eight percent or higher my first two tries!” or “Oh yeah, I get to do two IXL's every week! Wonder if I can do more and get ahead?” No, they—normally very responsible about their homework—have let this one area slide more than any other. Unless we occasionally ask, “Are you up-to-date with Kidbiz? What about IXL?” we all-too-often find out later that they hadn't been via unpleasant surprises such as bad grades.
     (Call me slow but I only now realize what IXL means. Shouldn't vendors to elementary schools use standard English and shouldn't these products thus be renamed using proper spellings and grammar such as, “In the Business of Teaching Kids English”, or, “I Excel in Math”? In short, shouldn't they be be setting better Xamplz? (JOKE) Note to vendors: Kids think your products and their names are so not cool, Man.)
     Getting back to the fund-raisers, I'm also skeptical of how such funds are spent. The school has more than ample computers (perhaps more than one per child?) yet nearly every year, new computer hardware is purchased. First came desktops, then the laptops, and now electronic tablets. Such more-is-better inanity boggles my mind. The Voyager spacecraft—one of man's greatest technological successes—ran on a computer less powerful than a simple hand held calculator. So if a primitive computer was sufficient for one of the most prolific scientific exploratory vessels ever, shouldn't a low-end desktop a thousand times more powerful do for an elementary school kid? Today's devices are so advanced they could display text and equations that would take multiple lifetimes to read and comprehend. A laptop for a kid (or adult) is sort of like an ocean's worth of water for a tadpole, its computational, storage, and retrieval capacities are so vast.
     The weakest excuse for these devices is to familiarize kids with technology so they feel comfortable using them. What kid isn't comfortable using a computer these days? Even the Amish have them, so I've heard. I admit I go to Braden now for help when my computer crashes since he can get it going (almost always software issues) ninety percent of the time (because he uses them all the time and likes them—makes him feel smart—not because he's done Kidbiz, Teenbiz, and IXL exercises ad nauseum.)
     The most specious reason for technology in the classroom is they're useful teaching tools. I suppose they may beat no teaching at all, but compared to teacher-on-student (or even better, parent-on-child) teaching using printed materials, pencil and paper, and whiteboards these tools are huge wastes of time and money. I'll bet there are virtually no Kidbiz, Teenbiz, or IXL Math units or exercises that can't be taught equally well or better in-person. (As yet, I have yet to find one, and my kids have been using these their entire academic careers from second grade on.)
     A couple years ago, Penelope came home with a note from her teacher demanding $7.00 for a “necessary workbook.”
     This demand stank. Public education is supposed to be free. I don't mind paying for my kids' beginning-of-the-year classroom supplies or “optional” class field trips or overnight camps (usually very reasonable) but required classroom workbooks? Isn't that supposed to be paid from school budgeted general funds? Did Penelope's teacher neglect to include it in her classroom budget and was she now demanding that parents foot the bill for her oversight? (I would have felt more generous about it had she admitted such in her memo.) Or was this a new trend in which parents would be expected to pay more and more in-classroom education expenses? Wouldn't this be a perfect thing to pay with PTA funds (instead of more waste-money technology)?
     Out of principle and concern for less well-off parents, I called the school's front office and inquired. The receptionist said she didn't know about it but would notify the principal of my concern (though I didn't leave a name or number). It may have left an impression because we never received such a demand again. But I made sure to donate $10.00 less to the PTA the following school year anyway because giving should feel light and cheerful, not heavy and stomach-churning burdensome.

Making the Grade

       This past year, Jaren, a late born, got far too many yellows for Deanne's and my comforts. First graders were awarded colors based on their behaviors exhibited at school each day. I don't even know all the colors, the scheme was so complicated, but green to olive green represented good, yellow represented warning—there had been some problems, and orange to red represented bad. In my book every day ought to be green or better. We made our expectations clear to Jaren. We instituted swift, sure consequences every time he earned yellow or worse. Nonetheless, Jaren continued to exhibit unacceptable behavior—talking out of turn, fooling around, not paying attention, not following instructions, having to be told twice to settle down, etc.—sometimes even on back-to-back days.
     When I was a child such misbehaviors were never a problem. Everyone always behaved—or else! And that “or else” was inconceivable—no one (never me at least) allowed it to get that far. And none of my teachers ever struck a child. Just a stern look or raised voice had always been enough. And notes were rarely sent home since behaviors were nearly always within acceptable range and those that weren't were easily rectified.
     Despite Jaren's youth relative to his peers, his academics have been slightly better that average. He's got a lively, social personality so that explains his restlessness in class—same as at home, time and again, always getting in trouble even when in time-out. And since we've been strict, we've concluded it's his innate excitability and underdeveloped impulse control in handling boredom, waiting, or impatience that causes his misbehavior—not really his fault, just age-appropriate immaturity manifesting itself.
     We ruled out medical causes such as attention deficit disorder and hyperactivity because the symptoms don't correspond. (He can sit still for long stretches; he has a good but not great attention span; his teachers say he's fine; and his pediatrician suggests its non-medical and not something to worry about for now). Nonetheless, we've been concerned and exasperated at times.
     Now the Hawaii state legislature has been fiddling with the kindergarten cut-off age for years. Before 2006, it was five by December 31; from 2006 it was five by August 1 but December 31 for junior kindergarten; then in 2014 it was five by August 1. The 2006 change was part of an ill-fated junior kindergarten program (canceled from 2014) that was supposed to provide free public preschool for late-borns, a great idea that I supported, but that didn't pan out.
            At least two-thirds of schools, claiming inadequate classrooms and staffing, simply stuck late-borns in with early borns and treated them the same as before: no separate late-born specific curriculum to prepare them for kindergarten; report cards were virtually identical for all students; and late-borns that did fine were advanced to first grade. Parents of late-borns soon discovered that nearly all junior kindergarteners were advanced to first grade as a matter of course. Thus, some began waiting an additional year, forgoing registering their four-year-olds for school and skipping junior kindergarten altogether, for why enter a child sooner than necessary?
     As stated in my prior Swearing essay, we didn't consider this option desirable for Jaren. We therefore entered him into junior kindergarten and hoped for the best, which turned out fine, and at year's end, he was promoted to first grade at age five with our blessings. But this past year in first grade, as mentioned above, he failed to behave consistently well. I concluded now's the time to retain him by having him repeat first grade. My good brilliant friend Darren in high school is a late-born and by our senior year, his biological immaturity showed—especially when it came to girls. My dad skipped a grade in elementary school (which, given the new August 1 cutoff date, is in essence what Jaren will have done if promoted to second grade relative to his class and schoolmates), struggled throughout high school and early college as a result, always felt uncomfortable about it and disadvantaged in the long run, and believed it had been done more so for administrative convenience—the small outer-island school with multiple grades per class having been so small—than to benefit him.  
     So I wrote a note stating our preference to Jaren's teacher who scheduled a conference for the two of us, Deanne, and the principal. I stated our case at the meeting emphasizing our desire to do what was optimal for Jaren long-term, but neither would budge: Jaren would move on for DOE policy limited retention to only students that exhibited the most extraordinary academic and/or behavioral deficits, which didn't apply to Jaren's occasional misbehaviors.
     Here's where DOE policy differs from Hawaii's top private schools and partly accounts for rating differences between them. Private schools (and their students and parents often enough) take seeming pride in student retention, meaning less than stellar students are readily held back to repeat grades, for promoting such students would simply draw down the school's performance ratings that are virtually always grade level based and not age based. (Not to mention private schools cherry pick their student bodies, forgoing special needs, English as a second language, and other lower-performing students.) A high schooler that attended the top rated school in the state said one of his classmates had repeated his current grade level three times and still wasn't smart.
     I told Deanne I think we could easily find some principal in the DOE or a private school that would enter Jaren as a first grader but that that would be even less optimal than keeping him at his current excellent school, so we will just have to live with it and do what we can on our side. And that I sense he'll turn out fine in the long-term (as both my high school friend and my father have)—I just don't think it's optimal. And that when I asked Dad (a former elementary school principal) about it, he affirmed he'll do fine either way. Though not what we had wanted, at least we tried.

Public Speaking

        Not many Americans enjoy public speaking, my family included, probably because it is such a difficult, unnatural task to do well and the contrast between outstanding and horrendous performance is so obvious to see: A capable speaker casts a spell over the audience that awaits with baited breath each captivating utterance; an incapable speaker mumbles uneasy and indecipherably, fails to establish meaningful audience rapport, and is viewed and remembered unfavorably. And no one wants to perform on the lower end of that spectrum.
     Several months ago, my daughter read the scripture verse of several sentences at church service which was held for a change in our church's fellowship hall. She had a microphone but it being her first time, she mumbled through at near record speed so it sounded a bit as though she were gargling salt water for a sore throat. I could barely hear her utterances, much less comprehend what she was saying despite my familiarity with the bible. But she hadn't stressed at all, which was the main thing, so overall, for her first time, she did fine.
     (The first time I read scripture at church—a different one—I was a wreck, getting virtually no sleep the night before. An attempt to get out of it failed when the guy I called refused to substitute. The reading went fine without a hitch but I'd been so apprehensive that taking communion on stage prior to reading didn't happen: I palmed the tiny cracker, held the tiny cup to my lips, and hid the undrunk vessel beneath my seat. Thank God that was the last time I ever got asked to read.)
     A few days following her recitation Penelope shared that she'd be participating with four fellow students in an upcoming district speech festival. They devised their own excellent script for the The Empty Pot story in which Ping is unable to grow a flower from the Emperor's (secretly) cooked seed, whereas all the other kids display fantastic flowers despite also having received identical (cooked) seeds. So the Emperor appoints honest Ping—the only child with an empty pot—his successor.
     Penelope's role was the pivotal Emperor, made all the challenging because lines were to be memorized, costumes weren't allowed, they were required to look at a single point above the audience throughout, and there could be no direct contact between actors because it was a group interpretation, not a play. Since she was group leader and it was a G.T. class, and since I knew it would be challenging for them to do well, I decided to coach Penelope at home.
     (Note: G.T. = Gifted and Talented, an inaccurate moniker, since all kids are gifted and talented. We had declined invitations for her to join the program in prior years due to it offering much added homework and little added benefits and at her age and academic standing such optional classes ought to be fun! fun! fun!  This past year, we let her decide if she wanted to enter and she said yes, which worked alright, I guess.)
     To help her then, we did a practice read-through of the script with Braden and I playing the roles assigned to her teammates. Right away, problems with Penelope's performance surfaced: mumbled, rushed lines delivered without voice modulation, pause, or drama as if she were hurrying to finish; a slouched and twisted posture; and fidgeting hands, legs, and shoulders suggesting gross unease. After stopping repeatedly while going over the first few lines to redo them (I gave her rundowns on background, setting, cultural significance, and an Emperor's mindset, and acting pointers such as head positioning, hand gestures, voice control and technique, and how to get into her role—lots to cover but important to help her develop stage command and to keep her mind on-task while performing), her frustration began to show, her attitude became petulant, her lips began to quiver, and eventually she quit trying altogether. I asked, “Do you want my help or not?” She didn't answer, looking down with tears now spilling over. When I asked again, she shook her head no, so I got up to go, then said, “You're the one that wanted to go to G.T. I'm very disappointed, those other schools are going to have it together and if you rush through like this, it's going to show that you don't care. As group leader, it's your responsibility to make it happen. I expect best effort and you want to settle for this shoddy I-don't-care stuff.” Turning to leave I said, “I'll be in my room if you change your mind.”
     She later came by and asked for help and we made good progress, but left off at bedtime with a long way to go.
     The next night I said shall we try again? and she said no thank you. I shook my head, snickered at the thought that she thought she was mature enough to assert her independence, and walked away.
     But she came by later and asked for help and we had a productive practice session, leaving off at about mid-way through the script but with still lots to cover. In the coming two weeks, we worked it, honed it, and even modified gestures: extended fists held straight out front coming apart suggested the unrolling of a large imaginary scroll; up and down and left to right head movements suggested the reading of the scroll; a raised arm signified Ping's appointment; and fists on hips and an angry frown showed that all the children who dared attempt deceive the Emperor were in for it.
           I missed the performance because I had to sign Jaren and Penelope up for Summer Fun that morning, but Deanne said she did fine—lines spoken loud and clear, though rushed in parts due to understandable stage jitters. And their group did well overall, too—the story line intelligible if not moving. Another group from their school performed even better. “Of course they did better,” I told her, “because they practiced three times as much as your group.” (Her group members were neither as available nor as committed.) “Yours would have done just as well had it practiced as much.”
     More recently, she was asked to recite scripture at church again. This time I asked her to do it for me just the way she intended to. A mumbled jangle of gibberish spilled forth and I asked do you understand what you just read? She said yes, but when I asked her to explain it in her own words she looked at it and said, “I don't really understand it.” So we went through word by word, learned and relearned definitions, and eventually comprehended what Apostle Paul was saying in each clause of the long, complicated sentences. Through tears aplenty she re-recited many times, things improving markedly after I underlined key words for her to emphasize and told her where to insert pauses to give listeners the chance to absorb what they just heard.
           The night before the recitation, for the first time, the poetic proclamation of God's immeasurable love came through. And the following morning at service, they came again—beautiful promises spoken perky and alive. “You did superb,” I told her afterward with an arm about her shoulders—tall praise coming from me. She smiled and thanked me.

The General Public

     As kids, my siblings and I always caught the big yellow bus that stopped right before our cul de sac in the morning and took us to school, and later in the afternoon, took us back home and dropped us off at the same place. Separate buses served elementary, middle, and high schools—all for free!
     Last year, our oldest child, as a seventh grader, started catching the county bus to and from school because only then did we deem him responsible enough to handle it. (There aren't any public school buses in our district that I'm aware of.) The vast majority of his school mates still get dropped off and picked up by parents or relatives. Although a bus pass at forty dollars a month certainly makes economic sense, having him catch the bus also benefits the environment and him. The sense of independence, confidence, and accomplishment (no matter how small), exercise walking to and from the bus stop, and exposure to the real world and real people helped mature him from a self-centered brat to a fine young man.
     I've been catching the county bus to and from work for over twenty years and continue to observe compelling things that I would otherwise have missed. Some are funny, same are ugly, some stink, and some are quite nice: reality that helps keep me grounded.
     It requires a mental shift to catch the county bus. For the most part, the people I hang out with live in safe, comfortable (or at least predictable) environments, so catching the bus affords such individuals one of life's few opportunities for discomfort and unpredictability. Will it be late or crowded? Which driver will I get—the kindly slow-poke or the disgruntled speedster? Will I get a seat? Will the only open seat be next to a jerk that sticks his or her leg a quarter of the way into my seat so that our legs touch, forcing me to sit half-sideways if I want to avoid contact? Will the air reek of body odor or stifling perfume? Will the temperature be too hot or cold?
     For this very reason many of my friends and relatives shun the bus and even take pride that they have never caught a bus their entire lives. And truth be told, this is also one of the main reasons why many of them send their children to private primary and secondary schools—something they'd never admit, instead claiming they're better schools that get better test scores, with superior alumni networks, opportunities, and facilities, but beneath it all is the unspoken preference that they and their children minimize the potential discomforts associated with contact with the general public. Whereas I and many others believe that one of the main benefits of public schools is learning to deal with just such things (after all, real life includes real people) and even more important, to learn to get along well with a diversity of people—including those of lower socio-economic classes, which often includes some of the nicest people around.
     I told my wife even if our kids got full scholarships to attend the Number One Rated Private School in the state, I wouldn't send any of them there. The best students will do academically well anywhere. They'll find a way. Their parents will find a way. Even their teachers will help them find a way. Moreover, if all the students in the Number One Rated Private School in the state were placed into any public school, it's a certainty that that school would instantly attain number one ranking (however that's decided). It's not about the school, facilities, faculty, or resources, it's about the students and parents. They determine academic success. Everything else can foster learning, though even the best schools can't bestow upon pupils superior work habits, abilities, and performance, which must come from within.
     All parents desire academic environments that are conducive to learning, with limited unnecessary distractions, etc.--but that's seldom the main issue anyway. The main distractions usually come not from external sources (peers, teachers, and facilities), but from internal sources—what's going on in each child's mind. Is he or she preoccupied with problems at home? Problems with friends? Anxiety? Fears? Depression? Body image issues? Materialistic regrets?
     In life there are so many major issues for children to work through and problems to avoid, that expecting perfection in academics just seems overboard to me. If it happens, great, but to try to force it on every student, even those not so inclined or endowed, gets counter-productive. (My wife recently took a teacher's aide position helping a special needs child. They try their best, but his attention span is limited and he struggles with his memory. He has been unable to keep up with his peers, which is understandable to me.)
     A friend of ours shared that her daughter at the Number One Rated Private School in the state was eating her home lunches alone in a bathroom toilet stall. The girl had wanted to transfer to this school but was obviously experiencing difficulties fitting in. This daughter is one of the sweetest, humblest, yet most outgoing girls I have ever met, so upon hearing it, my heart ached. Perhaps her peers were ostracizing or hazing her due to her public school background or jealousy over her healthy good looks? If so, then I question their, their parents, and the school's values. I've never heard of this happening in a public school among all my many relatives and friends. And before dismissing the situation as oddball aberration, consider that another friend of ours who attended this same school a generation earlier said she also ate all her home lunches there in a girl's bathroom toilet stall. 
     If this happened to any of my kids I'd feel very upset, flabbergasted, and concerned. Why are you doing this? Are they treating you badly? What happened? Are their cliques that bad? Can't you eat on a bench outside or in a classroom instead? Are you okay? What can we do to help? What do you propose doing to remedy this unacceptable situation? Anything you wish to talk about? 
     I'm sure my friends asked their daughter these same types of questions and she told them that she's fine and wants to stay, as did our adult friend to her parents (if they ever found out) when she was a student there. But is it worth it to pay tens of thousand of dollars per year just for a name-brand education if your child must suffer such indignities day after day for months on end? What will that do to a growing child's psyche and morale?
     (Full disclosure: In high school, two friends and I skipped lunch and hung out in the band room because we couldn't stand all the lunchroom cliques that froze out all outsiders. My friends started bringing and sharing home lunches, I just forewent because bringing home lunch was so uncool and satisfied myself with an after school snack at a drive-in we always went to. It's okay, kids around the world get by on a single tiny meal a day; I didn't suffer malnutrition or short-attention span as a result.)     
     In my experience, the most personable primary and secondary school students were all products of public schools. They spoke with humble charm appropriate to their ages and clearly enjoyed my company. To be fair, private school students have spoken well to me too, with organized thoughts and speech structures, but that was the odd thing, it came across like work for them to have to talk with me, not like something they enjoyed doing, and that they just wanted to get it over with, or as if they didn't quite feel comfortable in their own skins. They'll succeed fine later in life, I'm sure (they come from stable, academically-oriented families), but was it really worth it to have lost a piece of their carefree childhoods and unabashed informality?
     Having your children catch the county bus or attend public schools won't guarantee superior character development or real-life adaptability, but neither will sending them to expensive private institutions guarantee them academic or future financial success. (Four friends of high moral character who attended either of the Top Two Rated Private Schools in the state are now: among the long-term unemployed, doing odds and ends jobs on rare occasion, barely making it as a self-employed software designer, and selling cars. Though qualified, none of them contented themselves with ordinary nine-to-five type jobs and I suspect that's why they're doing what they do now.)
     I suppose we all do our best with limited knowledge—no one can foresee the future—and resources. And many are motivated by fears (of kids devolving into sex, drugs, or academic mediocrity or worse). It takes a lot of faith to trust a child, although, in the end, I believe that that tends to work the best. Give them what they can when they can handle it and trust God to protect them. No matter what, sooner or later, we'll all have to let go anyway.