Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Security and such
Changes are in the works for ye olde blog. After a lengthy conversation with the hubster, prompted by some very creepy goings-on, I've made the decision to make this blog private. What does this mean for you? You will need permission to view the blog from here on out. I was going to immediately enact the new settings but then realized I'd miss out on some faithful, yet quiet!, readers. So here's what you need to do: email me/comment on this post/find me on facebook and give me your email address. I'll then add it to the safe list and you'll be able to read the blog. I'll give you a day or so to do it! Sorry for the changes but creepsters lurk everywhere and I don't want them lurking after my babies!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Fundraising Woes
**Updated at the bottom...
It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. I shuttled Jack home in the 29382 degree heat and once safely tucked inside the cocoon of wonderful a/c, began to look through the contents of his take home folder. It was the largest amount of "stuff" yet and I wanted to know why. Then I discovered "it" -- the dreaded fundraising packet. In the giant envelope of gluttony were catalogs for cookie dough, pretzels, coffee, candles, wrapping paper (yeah -- separate catalogs for each!) along with a letter outlining the Check Writing Campaign (the gist? write us a check because we get 100% of the money!) and the Fall Carnival. I didn't feel like reading about all of it because truthfully after writing a $30 check the first week of school for various items that will "support the PTA as they support the teachers" I was a bit put out. "I'll come back to it," I thought.
So I pulled out the weekly Wednesday letter from our principal. Along with a heaping helping of coercion regarding the fundraisers, she outlined the school's policy on re-testing and introduced the ZAP (Zeros are not Permitted) Program, explaining how and when students would be allowed to complete unfinished assignments. "Interesting program," I thought. I'm still not sure which side of the fence I fall on in regards to zeros; like the pendulum swing of educational theory, my opinion shifts widely and frequently.
We loaded up the family for dinner and then church. And thus ended my journey through the folder. Until later...
After bathing and bedding the little ones, I set to my original task of examining all the fund-raising paraphernalia. It was then that I stumbled across the prize packages. One glossy page offered, in bright colors, the usual dollar-store fare that I'd grown accustomed to seeing (and wanting) in the course of my fundraising experience. Then I came across the "Just for NCE" prizes. The first prize was cute; anyone who participates at all in any of the fundraisers will get a Stinky Feet Day Pass -- good for one shoeless day in the classroom. While my gross factor was heightened, I understood how appealing this would be to the students, particularly my little guy. As I kept reading I came across the prize of a free homework pass. Any student who sells $75 worth of merchandise (or who brings a check from mom/dad for that amount) qualifies for one homework pass to be used instead of actually doing the homework. And that was all it took. The alarm was raised -- as mother and teacher.
The prize seems innocuous at first glance but it presents a dangerous and slippery slope. How can we as teachers and parents instruct our children daily on the importance of hard-work, diligence and responsibility and then offer a "get out of jail free" card when it suits our purpose? I fail to understand how offering such a prize doesn't undermine everything the teachers are trying so hard to instill. Someone needs to explain to me how directly tying academic performance to monetary gain is a positive thing. And while it's "only one homework assignment", the entire idea presents a dangerous situation in which our expectations for student performance change based on the child's ability to perform for our benefit.
Right now I have an email in to the principal. I'm sure I'll receive a cursory "thanks for letting me know" response. As soon as I know I'll pass it on. Any insight/advice/opinions on the topic are wanted and welcome!
Update:
The principal called, and as expected I received an "I appreciate your concern" conversation. First I was given the logic that homework only counts for 10% of the overall average, and reminded that the prize only counted for one homework assignment so it's "not really that big of a deal." Then I was told that the principal was going to "support the PTA in any way they needed because they do so much for the school." I was lectured about how blessed Jack's school is to have parental support because the principal has been without it before and "it isn't fun." I was reminded that the fundraisers are voluntary and was told that the "kids who will win the award will participate anyway" and "it really all comes down to who has the most family members willing to help." It was with that comment that I lost my ability to speak to the woman as a parent; my teacher-mode came on with full force. I began my questioning of her with, "And that sits well with you as an educator? That the students who have the greatest familial support and easiest access to money are the ones who receive all the reward?" She didn't have an answer. So I then asked, "given what we know about low socio-economic status and it's impact on student performance, you see no problem tying directly a student's academic performance to his/her ability to provide money for the school?" Again she didn't have an answer. I heard more of the same logic that "it's no big deal" and "the team leaders voted on it." Finally at the end she admitted that she'd never thought of things from my perspective (which raised an entirely new set of issues for me -- what's her job if not to think like this???). I told her that I support her and her staff; I told her I appreciated her hard work.
I'm not certain how to proceed. I take issue with the PTA's carte blanche decision making privileges. I have a problem with a principal that, while claiming that education of her students is paramount, will give approval to anything that comes across her desk from the PTA. I have serious concerns that the person charged with leading my son's school, who supposedly has at least a master's degree in education administration, didn't bother to think about a grades-for-money scheme as wrong, that she didn't bother to consider the messages she was sending to students. If Tot2Tot wasn't this weekend I'm sure I'd be a little more involved in fighting this. As it stands I think I'll let it go until Monday. And then? Then I may be emailing the superintendent?
It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. I shuttled Jack home in the 29382 degree heat and once safely tucked inside the cocoon of wonderful a/c, began to look through the contents of his take home folder. It was the largest amount of "stuff" yet and I wanted to know why. Then I discovered "it" -- the dreaded fundraising packet. In the giant envelope of gluttony were catalogs for cookie dough, pretzels, coffee, candles, wrapping paper (yeah -- separate catalogs for each!) along with a letter outlining the Check Writing Campaign (the gist? write us a check because we get 100% of the money!) and the Fall Carnival. I didn't feel like reading about all of it because truthfully after writing a $30 check the first week of school for various items that will "support the PTA as they support the teachers" I was a bit put out. "I'll come back to it," I thought.
So I pulled out the weekly Wednesday letter from our principal. Along with a heaping helping of coercion regarding the fundraisers, she outlined the school's policy on re-testing and introduced the ZAP (Zeros are not Permitted) Program, explaining how and when students would be allowed to complete unfinished assignments. "Interesting program," I thought. I'm still not sure which side of the fence I fall on in regards to zeros; like the pendulum swing of educational theory, my opinion shifts widely and frequently.
We loaded up the family for dinner and then church. And thus ended my journey through the folder. Until later...
After bathing and bedding the little ones, I set to my original task of examining all the fund-raising paraphernalia. It was then that I stumbled across the prize packages. One glossy page offered, in bright colors, the usual dollar-store fare that I'd grown accustomed to seeing (and wanting) in the course of my fundraising experience. Then I came across the "Just for NCE" prizes. The first prize was cute; anyone who participates at all in any of the fundraisers will get a Stinky Feet Day Pass -- good for one shoeless day in the classroom. While my gross factor was heightened, I understood how appealing this would be to the students, particularly my little guy. As I kept reading I came across the prize of a free homework pass. Any student who sells $75 worth of merchandise (or who brings a check from mom/dad for that amount) qualifies for one homework pass to be used instead of actually doing the homework. And that was all it took. The alarm was raised -- as mother and teacher.
The prize seems innocuous at first glance but it presents a dangerous and slippery slope. How can we as teachers and parents instruct our children daily on the importance of hard-work, diligence and responsibility and then offer a "get out of jail free" card when it suits our purpose? I fail to understand how offering such a prize doesn't undermine everything the teachers are trying so hard to instill. Someone needs to explain to me how directly tying academic performance to monetary gain is a positive thing. And while it's "only one homework assignment", the entire idea presents a dangerous situation in which our expectations for student performance change based on the child's ability to perform for our benefit.
Right now I have an email in to the principal. I'm sure I'll receive a cursory "thanks for letting me know" response. As soon as I know I'll pass it on. Any insight/advice/opinions on the topic are wanted and welcome!
Update:
The principal called, and as expected I received an "I appreciate your concern" conversation. First I was given the logic that homework only counts for 10% of the overall average, and reminded that the prize only counted for one homework assignment so it's "not really that big of a deal." Then I was told that the principal was going to "support the PTA in any way they needed because they do so much for the school." I was lectured about how blessed Jack's school is to have parental support because the principal has been without it before and "it isn't fun." I was reminded that the fundraisers are voluntary and was told that the "kids who will win the award will participate anyway" and "it really all comes down to who has the most family members willing to help." It was with that comment that I lost my ability to speak to the woman as a parent; my teacher-mode came on with full force. I began my questioning of her with, "And that sits well with you as an educator? That the students who have the greatest familial support and easiest access to money are the ones who receive all the reward?" She didn't have an answer. So I then asked, "given what we know about low socio-economic status and it's impact on student performance, you see no problem tying directly a student's academic performance to his/her ability to provide money for the school?" Again she didn't have an answer. I heard more of the same logic that "it's no big deal" and "the team leaders voted on it." Finally at the end she admitted that she'd never thought of things from my perspective (which raised an entirely new set of issues for me -- what's her job if not to think like this???). I told her that I support her and her staff; I told her I appreciated her hard work.
I'm not certain how to proceed. I take issue with the PTA's carte blanche decision making privileges. I have a problem with a principal that, while claiming that education of her students is paramount, will give approval to anything that comes across her desk from the PTA. I have serious concerns that the person charged with leading my son's school, who supposedly has at least a master's degree in education administration, didn't bother to think about a grades-for-money scheme as wrong, that she didn't bother to consider the messages she was sending to students. If Tot2Tot wasn't this weekend I'm sure I'd be a little more involved in fighting this. As it stands I think I'll let it go until Monday. And then? Then I may be emailing the superintendent?
Friday, September 10, 2010
Peanut, Peanut Butter
No jelly for Sam! His favorite snack is a peanut butter spoon. It's all my doing and I'm sure I've warped him in some way. I love this shaggy headed kid like he loves his "butter spoon"!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Love me some wrinkle-nose
My beauty showing her approval of the evening's meal -- Fruit Loops, banana and string cheese
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Jack's First Day of Kindergarten
August 23rd brought with it beautiful skies and the first day of school for Jack! Overall the day was a success. Jack did great at drop-off, no hesitation at all. He came home declaring he'd learned all sorts of fun things -- including the bathroom rules (go, flush, wash, leave). Sam asked about him all day long and had trouble eating lunch without him (where's Jack mama? We have to wait for Jack mama!). Here are some pics of our first morning walk!
My 3 little monkeys all in a row
Outside his classroom ready to go!
Leaving the house -- ready to go!
My 3 little monkeys all in a row
Outside his classroom ready to go!
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Yardstick Musings
I'm having one of those days where it seems everything I do just doesn't quite measure up. "Those" days seem to be coming all too frequently for my liking lately. I think I need a new yardstick.
Time and again I find myself wishing I'd done it a little bit better or faster or cleaner or fancier or...
My outfit for today seemed cute when I looked in the mirror in the morning...then I caught a glimpse of myself walking into preschool next to another mom. She was cute -- misfire one.
I thought I looked "athletic" shopping in the grocery store post-run...until I bumped into a casual acquaintance and realized I just looked (and probably smelled) in serious need of a shower and bar of soap -- misfire two.
Suddenly all these misfires are adding up to catastrophe.
I ran into a girl I know. She's a word-girl like myself. A fellow teacher and reader and writer of all things English. She stays home too -- sort of. And while I'm busy stuffing diapers and contemplating earth shattering topics like the benefits/hindrances of liquid bluing in my laundry detergent, you want to know what she's doing? Writing. Yeah, I said writing. So what, right? Not to me. See to me she's exploring, much like an archeologist, digging up treasures. She's stretching parts of her brain that honest to goodness I've forgotten I even possessed. She's formulating and postulating with each stroke on her keyboard. She's surrounded, even if only figuratively thanks to the electronic age, by stacks of words by learned individuals; her only job while in that moment is to take what they've said and add her brilliance to it. And my job? Scrubbing the tile coated in chocolate milk.
Obviously my job is more than diapers and milk and I know that. I know that. Nonetheless there are times when I long to stretch myself, to practice the skills that I've mastered, to use the gifts I've been given. Truth be told there isn't much need for upper level writing and literary exposition skills in a house full of preschoolers. I'm having a difficult enough time just trying to get this minute post written with all the interruption around me.
KA-POW. Small misfires breed catastrophe.
And suddenly every decision, every step, every everything seems to fall short, to fail to measure up.
I need a new yardstick.
A wife of noble character who can find? ... She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. ... She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at days to come. ... She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction in on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness." Proverbs 31, selected verses
I think that'll work.
Time and again I find myself wishing I'd done it a little bit better or faster or cleaner or fancier or...
My outfit for today seemed cute when I looked in the mirror in the morning...then I caught a glimpse of myself walking into preschool next to another mom. She was cute -- misfire one.
I thought I looked "athletic" shopping in the grocery store post-run...until I bumped into a casual acquaintance and realized I just looked (and probably smelled) in serious need of a shower and bar of soap -- misfire two.
Suddenly all these misfires are adding up to catastrophe.
I ran into a girl I know. She's a word-girl like myself. A fellow teacher and reader and writer of all things English. She stays home too -- sort of. And while I'm busy stuffing diapers and contemplating earth shattering topics like the benefits/hindrances of liquid bluing in my laundry detergent, you want to know what she's doing? Writing. Yeah, I said writing. So what, right? Not to me. See to me she's exploring, much like an archeologist, digging up treasures. She's stretching parts of her brain that honest to goodness I've forgotten I even possessed. She's formulating and postulating with each stroke on her keyboard. She's surrounded, even if only figuratively thanks to the electronic age, by stacks of words by learned individuals; her only job while in that moment is to take what they've said and add her brilliance to it. And my job? Scrubbing the tile coated in chocolate milk.
Obviously my job is more than diapers and milk and I know that. I know that. Nonetheless there are times when I long to stretch myself, to practice the skills that I've mastered, to use the gifts I've been given. Truth be told there isn't much need for upper level writing and literary exposition skills in a house full of preschoolers. I'm having a difficult enough time just trying to get this minute post written with all the interruption around me.
KA-POW. Small misfires breed catastrophe.
And suddenly every decision, every step, every everything seems to fall short, to fail to measure up.
I need a new yardstick.
A wife of noble character who can find? ... She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. ... She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at days to come. ... She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction in on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness." Proverbs 31, selected verses
I think that'll work.
Chez Jack
Jack's friend Cara gave him cooking classes at Little Chef's Academy for his birthday. He had a BLAST cooking -- I think he had even more fun showing off his skills at home.
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