10-30-08 - Tough Love vs. Spanking

Tough Love vs. Spanking - Good Argument Most of America 's populace think it improper to spank children, so I have tried other methods to control my kids when they have one of 'those moments.'One that I found effective is for me to just take the child for a car ride and talk. Some say it's the vibration from the car, others say it's the time away from any distractions such as TV, Video Games, Computer, IPod, etc.Either way, my kids usually calm down and stop misbehaving after our car ride together. I've included a photo below of one of my sessions with my son, in case you would like to use the technique.

Sincerely,Your Friend

I think this will work with grandchildren, nieces, and nephews as well.





Author Unknown

10-21-08 - The Letter of the Law

I rushed out the door, slammed the car door shut, dodged the trash bins carefully arranged on the curb, laid my cell phone on my lap and hit the "speaker phone" button lest I get ticketed by some over zealous cop. On the other end of the phone I heard a comforting voice, Debbie had returned to work and hopefully stability would return to my professional life. In my best Elmer Fudd impression I rattled, "7:40 meeting, I'm late, don't know why meeting." Having eight years experience of understanding my morning gibberish, she replied, "I don't have a contract for a return from suspension, I will check your master calendar to see who you are supposed to meet and hold them until you get here.

I finally walked in the building greeted by Deb who asked are you sure you aren't supposed to meet with counselor and student? I can find no scheduled meeting this morning. I took a deep breath, and thought ahh-- crisis averted. (or so I thought!) About 9:00 a.m. one of our counselors walked in my office, he told me that the meeting I had on the calendar was actually rescheduled for 3:00 pm with a student, angry parent and teacher. The Cliff Note version of the story is the student had missed several days at the beginning of the year for an out of town bereavement and a couple weeks ago he had missed another day because he was staying with friends while his parents were out of town and got locked out of the house. His teacher refused for him to make up missed quiz because of the absences.

I checked the attendance data base, his mother had cleared the absence per personal business in the appropriate amount of time. I scratched my head and thought I should email the teacher. Surely there was more to the story, we have an awesome staff and I have never dealt with a teacher unwilling to help a child in a awkward position. I mean after all, he wasn't hanging out in the wash smoking dope, this situation was truly out of his control.

I emailed the teacher asking for clarification of the problem lest I embarrass us both in the meeting. The only response I received was "He has already missed seven days." OK... so what bearing does this have on this situation? Shortly after she appeared in my door stating, "we have a policy and I intend to follow it." I looked up now angry, and said "This is the first time in my career I do not think I can support a teacher in a meeting." She huffed! "Well, if I am not getting supported by administration, I can't attend the meeting this afternoon." I shook my head, "I am glad that when I am on the freeway and I glad the police don't enforce the letter of the law"! She stomped out. I told her she could speak to the Principal about attending the meeting.

I have always supported teachers in meetings... we may have a heart to heart afterwards, but this time was different. I could not in good conscious tell this parent that her child did something wrong. We have always prized our school as "kid friendly" and for some reason this incident had headed down the wrong tracks at top speed.

Now I was just plain hacked off! I finished a pile of paper work, then emailed the teacher's department chair with my frustration! The frustration spiraled as I dealt with kids with drugs that afternoon. When my principal returned from his meeting I explained the incident and he was able to convince the teacher the benefits of allowing this student to make up his work... ugly meeting averted.

If we want kids to give us 100%, then as adults we must be willing to embrace the "spirit of the law." When a child feels that nothing they do is good enough they become frustrated and lash out to those around them. By the time these kids get to high school they are ticking time bombs... push the right button and they go "Kaboom"! Adults pick your battles, kids will be kids. Making mistakes is how they learn and grow. Some discipline is healthy for growth, others are simply done by adults to release their anger.

You can probably remember a few times you failed the "letter of the law" ... so for heaven sakes, cut them some slack already!

10-17-08 - FREAKY FRIDAY!

Friday's are typically my favorite day of the week... folks seem to have a spring in their step thinking of the possibilities of the weekend to come. Sure schools get a little nutty, but I just remind myself that it is job security! Today I awoke and realized that this would not be "the happiest day of the week" and just rolled over when the alarm sounded. Since about the age of 13 I have suffered with acute angiodema... when triggered I look like a good bridal candidate for the Elephant Man. This time with all the smoke and gunk in the air, my allergies caused my upper lip to swell up which resembled a botox job gone really bad. I called the office to explain my plight and that would be in as soon as the meds kicked in.

Finally about 9:30 I was able to get out of the house with only a small bump over my lip. Realizing that Debbie would not be there, I sighed in disgust wondering what joys the children had in store for me today. My secretary, Debbie, had been off now for two weeks with personal business and no one had been dealing with my "bellows." I rushed to the building knowing there was an Assistant Principal's meeting which started an hour ago. My boss looked at me and resisted the temptation for another "Elephant Man" joke instead told me that we had two police officers were on campus because "there were rumors of a school shooting today." Immediately I knew the source. Yesterday a young man (known for his melodrama) rushed into my office and said he had overheard "some kids wearing black saying... yeah I'm gonna shoot him." He of course shared this with everyone he knew and caused mass hysteria among our parents. He could not tell me "who" said this or "identify" them from a picture book so I notified the police department and crossed my fingers it was just some smart mouth kid spurting his frustration. Of course our "melodrama king's" friends told their parents and the school phone rang all morning.

We searched every nook and cranny during lunch supervision when my colleague received a radio call from her secretary that a young man was in the office and needed to speak to her. We met the young man and he informed us that his girlfriend has just seen a kid that had been "mad dogging him" with a knife tucked in his pants. We immediately found the student in our lowest level of English Language Learners... we had much difficulty communicating with him but managed to get him out of the classroom and searched him on the spot. I radioed for the police officers to join us, but they could not find the weapon on him either. We escorted the young man office and managed to trace the description of another young man that he said showed him a knife earlier in the day.

Of course this young man had PE that period and was somewhere in the mass of hundreds of kids outside participating in activities. My principal searched his locker and I went on the trek to find him. I asked several kids where he was, and later found him with a group of kids huddled around him asking "What did you do"? Of course it is never a good thing for an assistant principal to come looking for you.

We escorted him back to the office and when I asked him why people said he had a knife, he replied I do. I asked him where it was located and he pulled it from the top of his boxer shorts and handed it to me. It was quite the sight... about a four and half inch locking blade. I asked him why he brought a knife to school and he replied, "Some friends told me that freshmen get beat up, so I brought it for protection." I asked him if anyone was harassing him and he replied, "no." I then asked him if it was OK for students to bring knifes to school in the Philippians, and he replied "NO" and looked at me as if I was stupid. I then asked him why then did he think it was OK to bring it to school in the US... he started crying.

I then attempted to explain to him that he was suspended, would be cited by the police and because of the nature of the offense he could not return to school until we attended an expulsion hearing. He then asked me if it was OK for him to go to his next period class because he had a test. This time I sat there with a look of bewilderment on my face, this young man had no idea how deep he was at the moment.

His parents were mortified as we sent him home. It simply breaks my heart to make phone calls that I know is going to devastate a family. It was now 2:30 pm and I made an attempt to sneak out the front door for fast food since I had not eaten all day... when a radio call came. The original two young men were facing off in the hallway. We had them escorted to the office for some good ole mediation... or basically "Knock it off or your Mama can pick you up at the Police Station"! The boys shook hands and left in peace.

I sighed a deep breath when our lead campus supervisor reminded me that we had football in a couple hours and my plants needed watering. The football game didn't get any better, chasing off local druggies, kids throwing food that almost ended in blows, and my all time favorite the 30 something drunks that were cuffed and taken to the ground before they opted to leave the premises... IS IT SATURDAY YET?

10-13-08 - Fire Days

Some folks call them "snow days," when I lived in Dallas we called them "ice days." Rural areas in the South often have "rain days." In California, we call them "fire days." These are the days when school officials gather around the TV to see if Mother Nature is going to heap her wrath on mankind and leave the kids cheering with the possibility of the cancellation of school for a few days.

When I moved to California seven years ago I was introduced to this anomaly. The dry heat of Santa Ana winds coupled with no humidity makes the perfect setting for raging wild fires... in most cases, they are assisted by local "fire bugs." During my first fire I found myself glued to the TV amazed at the total devastation that accompanied these raging fire storms. Luckily Southern California is home to the best trained fire fighters and police officers in the world and they approach them with the skill and precession of a surgeon.

Monday was a fire day. We began school with the howling winds and the anxiety that any moment we could get word of fires and evacuations. About 10:00 a.m. our fears came true. We constantly monitored the air, as we have a directive from county officials that when the air quality gets bad all outside activities are cancelled. At first the wind appeared to blow away from us and our football staff held their breath with the hopes they might practice before Fridays big game. Unfortunately that was not the case.

There is just something about the warm howling winds and the smell of fire in the air that seems to bring out the worst in all of us. The fires seemed to be contained on the other side of the hill, so we opted not to close school. However, all day we were extinguishing the "social fires" that had been raging from the stress. We thought that all was calm, until a radio call came immediately after the final bell sounded that two young men were fighting in the middle of campus.

I rushed outside to find a Caucasian young man yelling "Yeah I said it, He's a F--king Ni--er." The stress of the day had certainly brought the worst out in Denver. A few weeks ago I had a discussion with Denver about his brother's ties to the white power gang and how he was trying to break away for a fresh start. So much for that lofty idea.

I escorted him to my office, reminding him to breathe deeply along the way. Of course I heard all the male prowess of how he "knocked him out" and I tried to contain my deep desire to "knock him out" too. Denver was out of control. I managed to get him to my office where he managed to explain that a group of African American young men had approached him about saying the "N-word" to someone years ago.

My colleagues had escorted the other half of this fire day drama to the office. When I opened the door Robert was explaining how he had approached Denver about calling a young lady the "N-word" in their math class when he got upset and started challenging him to fight. Now knowing Denver this sounded a bit more truthful... he has always had a short fuse and he was still flapping around my office like a bottle rocket on steroids.

After taking many statements we finally put the final piece of the puzzle together. It seems that both the young lady and Denver had a long history, dating back to middle school of calling each other racist names. For some reason this generation thinks that if you put an "a" on the end of a very ugly word it makes it OK. I questioned Denver if calling him a "Cracka" makes it any less nasty simply because they changed an "er" with an "a"?? He admitted no, and I suspended him for five days.

We then turned our attention to Robert to had led the vigilante charge. I asked him since when was he hired to do my job. Given that I grew up in the Deep South, I have seen this sort of "ugly" all of my life and I probably have a smaller threshold for dealing with it... I have seen what it can do to schools and communities first handed. We then informed Robert that he was also suspended for five days.

The lesson here is how do we stop this "Ugly"? For some reason racist names have now become terms of endearment (if you are of the same race.) When someone from another race uses that same name it then becomes vial. I have seen kids of ALL races fall into this fallacy. Ugly is just Ugly no matter what its skin color happens to be... for heaven sakes, let's teach our kids better words to insult their neighbors and friends like, skinny, bow legs, four eyes, or fatty and leave the racist names alone!!!

10-7-08 -- Do Over!

Since I first met Julius, an entire section of my head has turned a vibrant shade of white. Julius is now 17 years old and I should have insisted that he be transferred to the alternative school years ago. He is now at least an entire year behind in credits, has been dragged to truancy hearings more times than I can remember and this coupled with his substance abuse I am now on a first name basis with his probation officer.

In my quest to rid our high school of any appearance of gang activity, he has been a prime target for three years. I have "encouraged" almost all of his friends to seek their education elsewhere... some via expulsion hearings, but for some reason this kid stole a chunk of what is left of my now jaded heart.

Now Julius stands about six foot four, quite imposing to those around him. He is stout for his age and would be perfectly suited for a defensive lineman on the football team if he could ever manage grade eligibility. He moved to our school from another district where his "uncles" are up to their wazoo in local gang activity. Julius has been in juvenile hall about four times, last year wore an ankle monitoring device to school just a few months before he almost died from a stab wound inflicted as a result of his "family doings."

As "scary" as this "gangster" may seem to anyone on the street, I have had no problem telling him to get his butt in my office and if he didn't straighten up I would rip his ears off and feed them to my Shih Tzus. He knew I would do it too.

To our amazement this school year Julius totally reinvented himself to become the model student. While visiting classrooms the first day of the school year, my principal and I were totally speechless when we entered a chemistry classroom and saw him sitting in the front row with his chemistry book open ready to learn!

We also heard stories of the health teacher going from classroom to classroom asking teachers to step in and see who he had taken on as his student aide. Julius had approached him the first day of school, apologized for the daily discipline referrals and offered his assistance. I even noticed he was not dressing in his normal "colors" and actually avoided all the beginning of the year "Homie drama." This kid had renewed my faith in this generation and I had high hopes for his future and his ability to actually "get away from his family."

Until today... I had just returned from a doctors appointment. I won't go into details, but let just say if I ever see another latex glove I think I will be too soon! I walked into school and realized that I had entered a war zone. I shook my head, thinking to myself how quickly things change in public high schools. I had left the place in peace!

My first eye contact was with Julius who was seated outside my colleagues office breathing heavy and red eyed. I blurted, "What did you do"? when my colleague summoned me into her office. She reported that a teacher had stepped outside his classroom to find Julius and friends in a cloud of marijuana smoke. Administration was summoned and the boys were quite belligerent on the way to the office. In an attempt to calm Julius, she tapped him on the arm only to send him into a rage... he swung his arms back and when she flinched he said "Yeah, that is what I thought." She told me she thought he was going to hit her.

I swung open the door and repeated the phrase he has heard many times before ... "Julius get your butt in here... NOW"! He was quite upset and kept saying, she kept poking me! I told her not to poke me! I calmed him down and took him to my office. Almost immediately he began sobbing. He had been working for so long to get his act together, and in a matter of moments he was now facing juvenile hall again. Did I mention that none of the boys were in the possession of drugs or paraphernalia.

I had to fight the tears myself... for now four years I have watched this kid fight his background, pay for his bad decisions both physically and emotionally and now there was literally nothing I could do! I made a lame attempt to speak to him about anger management and explain to him due to his size when he acted in anger it startled people... with great size comes great responsibility. (Being vertically challenged myself I have never faced this dilemma)

I left him sobbing, returned to my colleague still a bit shaken from in the incident and now in the company of law enforcement. I can count on one hand the times I have asked the police to go easy with a student, but I was willing to eat a bug to keep this kid out of the Hall. He had come too far to lose it all now!

Being compassionate by nature, my colleague requested to speak to him again. He tried his best to swallow his tears, but once again he began sobbing... she praised him for his good work, but was firm with the discipline. He was cited by the police, but not with a felony threat against a government (school) official as they have in the past. This is an ugly place, Julius needed to be taught this behavior is not acceptable, if we did nothing he would surely repeat it, possibly outside the "safe" school zone. On the other hand, throwing him back in juvenile hall would only crush his attempts of reform.

Today I spoke to his probation officer in my office... we both know how hard this kid has worked, but now his fate will rest in the hands of the courts. It breaks my heart that most kids just don't understand that just a moment of stupidity can drastically alter their life. Some end up in prison, pregnant, hospital or even dead as a result of only one poor decision. Making them understand the stakes of this game called LIFE is truly a challenge and one that the adults in their lives should not take lightly. As a child I remember playing games and yelling "do over." This was one of those times my heart ached to yell that redeeming phrase, unfortunately we don't always have that option.

9-29-08 - Do you believe in me?

Ok... I needed this one!

http://www.dallasisd.org/keynote.htm

9-26-08 - Some Days Just Stink!

Friday started like any other, unfortunately it ended with a group of hard working professionals questioning their vocation.  It didn’t take me long to figure out that I could not find a happy parent in the entire valley! 

 

Due to the large size of our student body, we can no longer accommodate everyone in our gym for pep rallies so instead we hold them in the football stadium so we can accommodate all 2800 students.  Before we arrived at this decision, we attempted two pep rallies in the gym and later only let the “spirited” students who chose to participate attend and allow the others to roam campus and complain of their life’s misery.  Last we put this to some thought and decided that we were actually promoting a lack of school spirit and opened the stadium to accommodate the crowd.  We held the best rallies I had ever personally witnessed and decided to continue the tradition.

 

This year we celebrated Homecoming early and the Leadership students had worked diligently all week to prepare an awesome tribute to our school and rally the team to victory with a tribute to the 60’s.  Everyday during the week we had snips of famous sixties music and everyone seems excited about the upcoming pep rally.

 

The dismissal bell sounds and we began herding our student population to the stadium.  Although a few rogue paper planes flew from the stands, for the most part the students were very well behaved.   I found my “special place” on the track perched looking up into the stands to discourage the launch of the next plane when suddenly I received a call that a young man was in the office and refused to come to the rally.  I stated what I considered to be the obvious, either do what you are supposed to do or we will call your mother to pick you up for a suspension.  The secretary replied, Ms. Castleman, this is Jonas, you spoke to him and his mother this morning.  I immediately replied I would be right there and ask the secretary to contact the school nurse.

 

You see, yesterday and again this morning I was visited by Jonas mother who had just taken her son to the County Mental facility for testing.  Jonas told his mother the prior evening that he did not have friends, he wasn’t doing well in school and he no longer wanted to live.    The hospital opted not to hold him, but today he was melting down again.  I noticed our lead campus supervisor in the cart who had made her way to the stadium to pick me up, so I exited the pep rally (during the National Anthem… which I never do!) and jumped in the cart.  About the time, I exited the track I noticed a young man jump over the fence and run along the track in nothing but a speedo and a wrestling mask.  Quickly I heard other administrator’s calling for someone to stop him.  We quickly turned around the cart and headed east in the direction of the young man.  I radioed to the office to keep Jonas, I would be there shortly, unfortunately the secretary called back he had left the office.  I quickly radioed for a campus supervisor to stop him and Jonas agreed to go to his locker with the campus supervisor and return to the office. 

 

We continued to look in the wash and behind the berm adjacent to the stadium, but no “masked jumper.”  Suddenly the Principal radioed for me to come to the Gym, the masked jumper had injured himself in a fall over the fence and was now in need of medical attention.

 

I radioed the office again, Jonas was now with the School Nurse, and they were calling his mother and a CIRT team to evaluate his condition.  When I arrived at the Gym the masked jumper had now changed from his speedo and wrestling mask and was bleeding a bit from where he scratched himself from the fence and fall onto the track. 

 

At this time, I was HOT!  What was this kid thinking?  All I could envision was the episode at graduation and all I wanted is to make an example of this kid to avoid any future incidence.  The nurse’s office patched him up and I began to question him as to “what he could possibly be thinking”? 

 

We called his mother to pick him up for what I considered to be a reasonable suspension.  After all, he had just disrupted an activity with 2800 students.  No sooner did his mother pick him up than I received a call from his father, who professes to be an educator at a private school himself.  I still have bite marks on my behind from a conversation with this man… How dare you, you have gone over the edge, all my son was trying to do is have some fun… you over stepped your boundary by suspending him. 

 

It took me a moment to regain a sense of reality… was I actually hearing this, are these words coming from an adult?  His son had just made a total fool of himself in front of our entire student body, disrupted the pep rally and could have considerably injured himself and he was barking at me?  I replied, “Sir I can’t believe I am speaking to a parent, we have 2800 kids on this campus and if all parents had your philosophy we would have mass chaos… if your son can not abide by the rules of this school, perhaps he needs to look for another.”  I typically do not speak to parents in the matter, but this man was clearly off his rocker!

 

About that time, I walk out of my office to find Stan.  Stan is special education student who has become a frequent flyer.  He was there to debate his consequences from an incident that occurred the previous year that had carried over to this year.  He became mouthy with me, after he replied, "I don't care, go ahead and suspend me," and I took him up on his offer. 

 

It didn't take long before he was once again “rescued” by a family member who felt he could not be accountable for his actions.  Earlier in the week I had yet another encounter with this family member who was convinced that I was “Out to get Stan” after a nasty phone conversation, Stan’s father called and was very supportive.  He stated that he as well, was exhausted dealing with this family member.  

 

Stan and his enabler had “camped” out, beside my door and insisted on meeting with me.  When I explained that I had already arranged a meeting with Stan’s father, he became enraged and ended up complaining in the principal’s office.

 

It seemed there wasn’t a happy soul in our city and they all wanted a piece of us.  My boss walked in to check on me, and quickly found the rip in my Teflon coating… a tear began running down my face.  Just how much abuse does “Joe Public” expect their school officials to take before we crack?   Knowing that I have skin six inches thick, my boss asked the obvious… what is wrong; this stuff normally doesn’t faze you?

 

Truth is … I am tired, very tired.  The lack of accountability in this generation is exhausting!  I simply cannot understand why parents will not allow school officials to do their job… or better yet do their jobs as parents!  I remember my parents telling me, if you get in trouble at school, you can expect double when you get home.  Why is it then that my generation has turned this into “Don’t respect anyone who doesn’t respect you first regardless of their age or authority”!   It’s not about what is good for our citizenship any longer, but do what ever YOU want to do, it doesn’t matter how it affects others.

 

This is one school administrator who is FED UP and ready for a weekend!   Hopefully next week will be better.

 

9-17-08 -- Kids Don't Care How Much You Know...

Now I always touted the phrase, “Kids don’t care how much you know, until they know how much you care”!  Folks who are truly “called” into the education business know this intrinsically.  It’s easy to remember and a quick way of sharing I’m about “people” and not just “curriculum.”   These words have always rolled off my tongue with ease, until they are actually put to the test.  After all… that kid that is spouting profanities in the sanctity of my office is surely not due the same measure of “care” as those who arrived in class with textbook and notebooks in hand ready to engage in some meaningful exchange of academic growth.

 

My church as begun a new study of 40 Days of Love, an on the surface it seems like a harmless enough study.  I thought to myself, why not begin this study of relationships with co-workers so we could encourage each other as this job of educating our youth occasionally kicks us in the teeth and we begin to earnestly question ourselves why we chose this vocation in the first place.  So, several of us agreed to meet before school hours, lest we get entangled in the separation of church and state debate, to examine how we can become more loving to those around us.  But… I have also been warned, be careful what you pray for it because you might just get it. 

 

A goal of our administrative team this year is to “be seen.”  Our visionary principal challenged us to not only drop in classrooms, but to roam the campus before school to welcome students and let them know we are there for them.  Of course I personally saw this as an opportunity to “nab” those students who were violating dress code, smoking around corners, and violating any school policy… not the “spirit” of the task, but either way a good idea I thought.  Until… I actually started saying “Happy Monday” to those sleepy little faces.  (I don’t’ think I mentioned this meant setting my alarm a half an hour earlier, and downing at least three cups of black coffee lest I bite anyone in my path!)  Although I was the only one to grumble about this exercise in “niceness,” in the beginning, I am finding myself actually enjoying the activity.  My colleagues and I scheduled “duty days” and I found myself rushing out to the trusty golf cart to make my morning rounds Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

 

Then…along came Tuesday.  This Tuesday was my very first truancy meeting (SARB)… our counselors had scheduled the morning with children who began struggling with attendance after the very first week of school… sort of like Jenny Craig and me!!!  I am certainly glad Jenny doesn’t impose the same kind of intervention plans that I do!  Why is the second week so difficult???   Maybe if my weight maintenance counselor threatened to take me to the police station if I gained weight,  I would think twice before I downed that jalapeno popper… after all, now we are legislating student’s diets in public schools, so perhaps this is the next step.  

 

Anyway… Tuesday morning came, I was running late to work, only to get stalled turning into the parking lot by some “overly cautious" parent waiting for a break in the traffic, I honked for them to get out of my way only to find someone was in my parking place, I ran into the office to see an impatient mother was waiting on me, which was followed by Debbie “gently” reminding me that I was running late for my first appointment.  I grabbed my favorite; “Don’t Mess with Texas” mug as the Campus Supervisors cleared my path to the coffee machine, lest I mow down any unresponsive child.  I felt like the Texas Tornado and was behaving much the same!   I welcomed “Impatient Mom” into my office, questioned her as to where was her child, looked her squarely in the eye and asked, “Now just what are you planning to do to do with your daughter”?   Tears welled in her eyes from my bluntness… she replied, last night she snuck out of the house, got into a fight, she is now using drugs again and I don’t know what to do.  Open mouth… insert foot! 

 

Where was the love?  Way to go Pam, way to show this parent we are here to help her and that I genuinely cared for her daughter.   Once again I had allowed “life” to get in the way of extending love to my fellow man.  Yesterday a counselor remarked, “When the kid needs support I help them, when I need someone to be “tough” I get Pam.”   Where is the balance?  I spent most of my young adult years working in youth ministry and Christian counseling.  When I was in the classroom I taught psychology and sociology… so when did this evolution exactly occur from cream puff to junk yard dog?

 

As I began to ponder this remark, it led me back to my favorite quote… Kids don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.  Some where along my journey of attempting to shape the behavior of our troubled youth, I lost the “loving” part of myself.  Although I am still a firm believer that our youth needs clearly defined boundaries, teenagers also know intrinsically if you are “For Real” or not.  Yes, it is frustrating to deal with the lack of respect and empathy that permeates this generation, but when those of us who have been “called” to rescue them from themselves fall in the line battle, all “love” is lost. 

 

Our greatest weapon in this war is “love” itself.  In other words, if you don’t love kids, find another profession.  For the most part, these kids have been told they are worthless from birth and the last thing they need is for someone to kick them when they are down.  The “judgment” that often accompanies the trip to the principal’s office needs to be coated in the underlying belief that the child is worth more than they are giving society.  Attempting to convince a kid that they are selling themselves short is often more effective than beating them between the eyes with the “You Oughta” stick.    Perhaps I will hang up “the stick” and focus on the deep hurts within the child and once again model the Perfect Love that was extended to me. 

9-16-08 -- Just Dump Me In Headfirst!

I did not want to get out of bed this morning! The alarm sounded and outside my window hung a gray haze of a Marine fog that taunted every muscle in my body to rebel against my brain’s better judgment.   When I finally arrived, late and rattled I had an eager mother waiting to discuss her daughter’s last bout with substance abuse and truancy issues.  It appeared that she lost control years ago and was looking for a quick fix from the school to salvage what was left of her daughter’s education.

 

I had scheduled a docket of truancy hearings all morning… it was only the second week of school, but some students actually develop a pattern early in the year.  This year, more determined than ever, I challenged them early to turn from their evil ways and actually learn something this year.   The second family was no better than the first.  The police had already arrested young Jose for his truancy in middle school and given that the first day of school I had to deal with him for stealing a burrito in the cafeteria it appeared history was going to repeat itself.  I called probation and found out that this young man had quite the history and a number of alias in the community.  After our “discussion” on the first day of school he had stopped attending all together and was now hanging out with the local “gangsters” that were arrested outside our west gate last week.  I informed Jose that he was no longer “in little people school” and we would take him to court if his attendance did not improve… I went on to buy him a lock for his locker, PE clothes so he would dress out and then challenged him to “make me go away.” 

 

The truancy hearing ended about noonish and I thought the worst of my day had ended when a man came to the front desk and “DEMANDED” to see his son.  Our clerk sent a pass for the student and then realized that the father was NOT on the emergency contact list.   She immediately stopped him, but not before his son had appeared in the office.  I heard him yell at her and came out to attempt to explain if he provided custody papers we could honor his request, when I found myself toe to toe with him standing between he and his son.  He began to swear at me and ask me to do things that were physically impossible! I told the son to go back to class… he demanded he stay; I insisted he go to class lest I call the police department.   Luckily for me the son complied. I informed the father that he needed to leave the premises he also complied while cussing me all the way out the door.  Normally when a parent is not listed in our records and there is a note “do not release family information” there is an abuse issue and I wasn’t about to expose this young man to more chaos in his life.  Later when I called his mother, I found my instincts were correct that his father was violent, was in trouble with the police and was pending a court date.

 

Debbie walked in my office to harass me about “giving another parent a hard time.”  We have experienced more than our share of nutty parents this week… includingthe one that wasted an hour of my life complaining that the school counselor called him to inform him that his daughter was “cutting” herself.  After all, couldn’t we just leave her alone, he argued!  Debbie and I laughed at the sheer nonsense and I told her, “It is just a matter of time before someone knocks my block off, just do me a favor dig a hole in the back yard and dump me in headfirst! 

 

Despite logic, there is simply no hesitation in my heart about protecting these knuckleheads who have made a hobby of turning my hair gray!  I find this concept true with most school administrators…. these students are OUR kids!  Perhaps that is the ultimate test that you are indeed doing what you have been “called” to do in life, when you are willing to do whatever it takes to protect them (it.)  Call it stupid, call it brave, but either way just don’t mess with my kids!

 

 

9-5-08 -- Planting Flowers Along the Way

As I sat staring at a blank page, attempting to put into words first full week of school for once found myself speechless.  For school officials there are so much anxiety, anticipation, frustration, joy and even a hint excitement I could not adequately come up with the words that fit.  As certainly as summer school ends, the new school year begins with a whirlwind… well maybe more like a hurricane!!!   It seems that we just wake up one morning to find a tidal wave of teenagers, bright eyed and bushy tailed, holding a U-Haul load of textbooks and the promise of a new day!

 

Attempting to be good instructional leaders, we pass out textbooks, schedules, lockers, ID cards, etc, a week before school begins.  This way any scheduling issues can be resolved prior to the infamous 1st Day of School!  Watching “our kids” (all 2800 of them) return excited from their summer activities is truly mesmerizing.  I might add I am also still in awe how our counseling staff manages to design schedules for all these children complete with special program requirements!  

 

The first day finally arrives with a sense of “hope” for all of us.  Countless  discipline office “frequent flyers” stop by to apologize for their behavior and promise… this year will be different!   I attempt to bury my cynical side and become their greatest cheerleader… after all, that is why I entered this profession in the first place!  My “ministry” to these struggling souls is what gets me out of the bed in the morning hanging on to the hope that indeed this year will be different for them.

 

The first bell rang and I found myself pointing a plethora of mortified freshmen to the correct building, lest any rogue senior prey on their innocence.   Five minutes after the bell sounded the campus was calm and ready to begin a new chapter in the lives of our youth.  My principal, who has been boasting his theme of “Shine in 09” walked into my office and said… “Let’s start things off on a positive note… I’m going to walk through classrooms if you want to join me.”  I gladly hopped out of my chair to witnesschildren in school, on time, with books and supplies, listening to the teachers who were engaging, interested, motivated, and using recently purchased technology.   We had just found out we met our API/AYP goals and all was well!   Ah… if every day could be like the 1st Day of School.

 

Unfortunately, that 2nd Day always arrives with a whirlwind of chaos to disrupt our peaceful launch … this year complete with a parent who was blaming a teacher because her son did not pass his summer school class therefore could not play football, a mob of athletic parents who demanded the coach be fired, a group of gangsters arrested by the police for attempting to recruit new members after school, dress code violators, a girl fight after school complete with pit bulls, and a teacher who lost control during an act of student defiance and called the student an inappropriate name.  

 

At the end of the day, I longed for my comfy chair and my puppy kisses waiting at the door.  I guess in a way school organizations are much like my Shih Tzus  … we put in good things, and then out comes the poop. (no pun intended)  What we choose to do with that poop is the true test of learning.   If they roll in it, they get stinky and gross, if we ignore it, then it becomes a greater issue (fine), or we can scoop it and dispose of it properly.  There are even folks who make fertilizer out of it and watch things grow!   I guess it all depends on how dedicated you are to your work!   My prayer for the year, is that I will scoop with humility and plant lots of flowers along the way!

8-19-08 - Teenage Poverty

Author - Unknown

Teen Poverty in America We just spent several hours observing teenagers hanging out at our local mall. We came to the conclusion many teenagers in America today are living in poverty. Most young men We observed didn't even own a belt; there was not one among the whole group. But that wasn't the sad part. Many were wearing their daddy's jeans. Some jeans were so big and baggy they hung low on their hips, exposing their underwear. I know some must have been ashamed their daddy was short, because his jeans hardly went below their knees. They weren't even their daddies' good jeans, for most had holes ripped in the knees and a dirty look to them. It grieved us, in a modern, affluent society like America, there are those who can't afford a decent pair of jeans. I was thinking about asking my church to start a jeans drive for "poor kids at the mall." Then on Christmas Eve, we could go Christmas caroling and distribute jeans to these poor teenagers. But here is the saddest part...it was the girls they were hanging out with that disturbed us most. Never, in all of our lives, have we seen such poverty-stricken girls. These girls had the opposite problem of the guys. They all had to wear their little sister's clothes. Their jeans were about 5 sizes too small! I don't know how they could get them on, let alone button them up. Their jeans barely went over their hipbones. Most also had on their little sister's top; it hardly covered their midsections. Oh, they were trying to hold their heads up with pride, but it was a sad sight to see these almost grown women wearing children's clothes. However, it was their underwear that bothered us most. They, like the boys, because of the improper fitting of their clothes, they had their underwear exposed. We had never seen anything like it. It looked like their underwear was only held together by a single piece of string. We know it saddens your heart to receive this report on condition of our American teenagers. While we go to bed every night with a closets full of clothes nearby, there are millions of "mall girls" who barely have enough material to keep it together. We think their "poorness" is why these 2 groups gather at the mall; boys with their short daddies' ripped jeans, and girls wearing their younger sisters' clothes. The mall is one place where they can find acceptance. So, next time you are at the mall, doing your shopping , and you pass by some of these poor teenagers, would you say a prayer for them? And one more thing . Will you pray the guys' pants won't fall down, and the girls' strings won't break? We thank you all, Two Concerned Grandmothers

8-11-08 - Time Wasters

I’ve often heard that idle hands are the devil’s workshop, but I must admit having a few days off between summer school and the beginning of the fall session has been nice.  I fell into my normal routine of staying up too late (2:00 am) and sleeping too late (10:00 am) then to get up, enjoy a cup of coffee and a Sudoku puzzle… lest my brain go to mush and I end up spending my elder years in a nursing home drooling on myself.  I managed to finish my puzzle, got another cup of coffee and thought to myself… “Now What?"

 

Around my house “Now Whats?” usually end up in some mindless online card game of solitaire or canasta.  I call these “life wasters.” In the time I waste in this nonsense surely I could be volunteering in a soup kitchen, scrubbing the baseboards or campaigning for McCain (I just had to say it Marcia and Brian!) But instead, I enjoyed my second cup of coffee with a game of “Thousand Island Solitaire.” (Trademark Pogo.com)  Instead of a nice array of Kings, Queens, and Jacks, the player is given three ships to move from one port to another by playing card with number values (25, 50, 75, etc.) The only twist is, intermingled are cards that block your progression to the next port such as, the “rip in your sail” card, the “boat has a leak” card, the “storm” card, or my personal favorite, “your crew has scurvy” card.   Until you draw a card to take care of whatever little dilemma fate throws you, you can’t move your ship.

 

I was thinking, how funny this game is so much like real life.  We are coasting through calm waters, just picked up a nice bounty from our last port, when suddenly we get a hole in the bottom of our ship.  We sit there watching our little boat fill with water, scratching our heads wondering what our next move will hold, when suddenly we are thrown a life preserver.  It is during these times I rely on my Faith to pull me through.  Unfortunately everyday I come into contact with folks who are bobbing up and down hoping the sharks just feasted on the last sucker to happen to draw the wrong card.  The older I get, I realize just how many sharks there are circling around the poor victims who are struggling to stay afloat.

 

As a society, too may times we bump right into these folks, but wait for the “Good Samaritan” to stop and do the work for us.   I mean after all, remember the famous Malthusian remark of Ebenezer Scrooge “Are there no prisons, are there no work houses?”  This proclamation seems to be our society’s new anthem.   Well, we may not come right out and say it, but how many of us actually turn our heads away from the folks begging on the highway ramps.  Hey, I have said it myself, “He’s probably some con man and if I gave him money he would probably spend it all on booze anyway.”   “Well, he just needs to go to a shelter.” I have never really stopped to ponder if anyone has given the poor soul a gift card to the local grocery store.  Like many,  I have caught myself defining anyone as the Good Samaritan, but myself.  Frequently on the road, as I pass folks broken down I say this prayer, “Lord, please send them someone to help them.”  Now I am not advocating that single women stop on the freeway to get mugged and beaten, but how often do we echo this sentiment in everyday life… “Lord, send someone else.”

 

When I think about all the time I have wasted playing games online instead of helping my fellow man, it sickens me.  My prayer for today is that we teach our children that we ALL (individuals, companies, schools, churches) need a heart of compassion, and begin working together as a society help those around us who have simply drawn the wrong card… lest we all end up with “Rips in our Sails.”

 

 

 

7-31-08 - The Daddy Dance

Summer School had finally ended… I put the last piece of tape on the California High School Exit Exam boxes to be shipped back for scoring with a big smile on my face that resonated from a job well done.  After much work, a great team and lots of prayer the summer session had gone smoothly.  All left to do was to have a few “days” of fun before the regular school year begins.  About a month ago I decided I wanted to spend these precious days was with my parents.  My parents live in rural southern Arkansas and the since I have moved to California the time I get to actually spend with them is scarce. 

 

I knew getting them here would be a challenge.  Both of them have been quite comfortable being big fish in their little pond.  My Dad’s family has lived in the same area for generations where my uncle is now County Judge.  All of my family lives in Arkansas and I was the only nutcase that left!  My Uncle Clayton even announced to the congregation of Bethel Baptist Church one Sunday that I had left Heaven (Arkansas) for Purgatory (Texas) and ended up in Hell (California)!!  After all, everyone knows that God turned the world on the side and all the “fruits and nuts” fell to California!  And… besides it’s gonna fall off in the ocean anyway! 

 

It has always been an anomaly to me why folks in their golden years return to the place of the birth, but in some cases people don’t seem leave in the first place! I have pondered my own plight, wondering if I too will return to my roots, however the gentle reminder of suffocating humidity and bugs the size of tanks hasn’t lured my attention yet.  Anyhoo, I understood the only way to convince the two most stubborn folks in Arkansas to get on that plane is to send them non-refundable tickets!  (So, I get the stubborn part honestly!) I know I am tricky, but better this than turn into Little Orphan Pammie!

 

This was only their second flight, and such a delightful daughter chose to fly them out of DFW International Airport!  What was I thinking??  I have often heard that as your parents age that you change roles with them… I felt like I had just dropped two little kids in one of the largest airports in North America!!!  Of course it didn’t help when I kept getting flight notices that the airport had changed their gates… FOUR TIMES!!!  I could only imagine them ending up on the wrong flight to Kalamazoo!  Luckily Mom had taken their cell phone… but taking it, and hearing it are two entirely different things!!  After multiple attempts to get them… did I mention she doesn’t know how to check her voicemail, she informed me that they saw the changes on the “little TV screens.”  Panic averted!  I thought… ok now I can relax.  Until, the last notice came in that the flight had beendelayed.  Oh Great!  I could only imagine my sassy little mother demanding to see the pilot lest anything be wrong with the plane.  I just knew they would kick them off the flight, or worse yet ban them from ever getting on another plane.  Now I would NEVER get them back to California!

 

When I arrived at Burbank, I stopped by a coffee shop hoping that a nice “espresso” latte would calm my nerves.  I looked at the clock, breathed deeply and thought… Lord, please let them get off that plane.  The fifteen minutes felt like hours, but finally they came around the corner.   Mom had a big smile on her face, Daddy looked like he had just gotten a prostrate exam… either way, they were finally on the west coast!  Now realizing that I had not “ordered” them an in-flight meal, I put them in the car and took them out for a nice meal.  While trying to explain to Dad why they put avocados on his burger I gave him a sheepish grin and handed him a “Daddy Do” list.  I learned this trick from my cousin, Amanda who routinely finds little projects for my Uncle Clayton. Afterall, I was deprived of having the wisdom of my father in dealing with all those little household projects that make me absolutely crazy.   I thought I was being funny, but I had no idea what I had just done!

 

Now if you were blessed to grow up with your father, you understand the concept of the Daddy Dancing!    While mothers are in labor screaming their lungs out in pain, fathers are snuck into a side room and taught the Daddy Dance.  I know this because they all do it!  You know, when the family is about to go somewhere and Dad is pacing back and forth rushing everyone out the door!   Or you go to your friends house to play and he starts saying “It’s about time to go” a half hour before you actually get in the car!  This is what I refer to as the Daddy Dance.   Personally, I enjoyed getting everything together, then proclaiming “Oh, I better go to the restroom before we leave,” it always sent him into orbit! 

 

I tucked them in about 9:00 pm… with the time difference and all the day's excitement they were both pooped.  Unfortunately the good queen-sized high-rise Aerobed had a flat and I had to put Daddy on a smaller version and Mom on the trundle bed.  I was able to finally wind down (and get all the espresso out of my system) about midnight.  When I awoke I found Daddy (who had been up for hours) buzzing around checking on things for his “Daddy Do List”  I had listed minor things I thought, like tightening this or showing me how to do that, but before I could get a full cup of coffee down me… “Where is the screwdriver?”  “I mean the flathead one… where is that drill I bought you?”  “You mean you don’t have any bits in it?”  The Daddy Dance had officially begun… and I wasn’t even awake yet!  It took him less than two hours to finish EVERYTHING on the list.”  I mentioned I wanted him to show me how to lay pavers on the side of the yard.  Next thing I know we were at Lowes buying pavers… when I mentioned how much I had paid for about a yard of concrete he was a man on a mission!

 

Now lest you report me for parental abuse…  I tried MANY times to make him stop to do some sight seeing or a nice drive down PCH, but NO, he wanted to get those pavers done so I wouldn’t have to use the pick axe or even worse pay those prices to get it done.  But dusk came and he had finished about half of the walkway.  I was thrilled… they were simply beautiful! 

 

Now I was tired… I did more work moving pavers and playing gopher than I had done in weeks.  I fell into a deep sleep UNTIL… BANG, BANG, BANG, on the bedroom door.  I yelled “NO!!” thinking it was the Shih Tzus… it wasn’t, the Daddy Dance had started for another day!  It was now 8:00 am and he was up and had already stripped out all the pavers that he laid the day before… because “they didn’t look right” and he had redone them.  He wanted me to look at them to “see if they suited me.”  Heck it was 8:00 a.m. I don’t even know what planet I’m own until 10:00!  Of course they were incredible… I made another run to Lowes for more pavers and we worked ALL DAY long despite my pleas for some site seeing.   He finished the project the same day and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. 

 

The only problem is I could only persuade them to stay three days and they had not experienced all the Golden State had to offer.  I helped them with their boarding passes then put them in the line for the metal detector.  I walked out the airport wearing sunglasses to conceal the tears in my eyes.  How did I manage to fly them to California yet let them work the entire time?  I didn’t realize how much I missed them until they were gone.  It took me three days before I could bear to deflate that stupid Aerobed… it is now in the box, but now I have this beautiful pathway and grapevine arch that will provide precious memories of Daddy Dances for a very long time.