6-23-08 - "The Spirit of Excellence"

As certainly as the final bell rings for the summer vacation, the beginning bell for summer school will ring shortly thereafter to summon all those with less than stellar grades to recoup credits failed during the regular session.  This summer it will be my fourth year to share my vacation with these precious souls.  I mean this sincerely in that I actually enjoy the role of summer school principal.  It amazes me to see these kids suddenly take seriously the same curriculum they chose to sleep through in the fall.  This year I chose the summer theme, “The Spirit of Excellence” with a patriotic theme, not only to encourage the students to do there best in this election year, but to also remind myself I am working for Uncle Sam, who has found it quite comical to thrust me into a new tax bracket! 

 

I started planning summer school about a month ago with a lot of help of folks who have a tighter grip on the new “budget.”  This year we would only run classes that are full, only enroll students with “F’s” (No “D’s) and absolutely no “go-aheads” for students to take extra electives in their schedules.  Even with these limitations we still managed to enroll approximately 1200 students for the session.  I began hiring teachers based on last years enrollment, trying to take in to account the restrictions on enrollment.  Despite mybest efforts, math classes simply did not fill and I was forced to “hire,then fire” three math teachers.  My heart broke as I received an email from one of those teachers asking to be put on the sub list lest he “lose his house” this summer.  This is NOT my favorite part of the process!

 

Yet another challenge in addition to “staying within the budget” was the fact that there would be no middle school session this summer and all the special education students needed to be “housed” on our campus.  This was quite the challenge in that our high school physical plant was not designed to accommodate 24 special education classrooms in which most needed ADA restrooms as well as five areas for diapering students.   Because of a recent bond issue, the campus, which houses most of the district’s severely handicapped students, was under construction for the summer.  Finding facilities suitable for these students was might I say, challenging!  Diapering students in biology labs isn’t the best scenario, but despite limitations we learn to make do.  I have never quite understood how a law suit which pertained to equal access in public transportation translated into forcing extremely handicapped students into the backs public education is good or the “least restrictive environment” for them but who am I to question the wisdom on those who sit on the bench.  Obviously these judges have never attempted to diaper a student in a Biology lab or with limited funding attempted to accommodate their special needs in lieu of purchasing new textbooks or fix a leaky roof.   But someone saw the wisdom that each public school must accommodate the needs of ONE while thirty-six students sit with raindripping on their heads.   To me it doesn’t take much “horse-sense” to see that the few students with severe disabilities should have their own facilities and funding to indeed assist their needs rather than forcing ALL public schools to produce “less than adequate” substitutions using meager funding.

 

OK… I went there, now moving on.  This summer we have 51 teachers, 70 special education aides, 9 campus supervisors, 4 clerical, 2 counselors and 2 administrators serving students from two comprehensive high schools and a magnet high school.  I was thrilled I was given an awesome team of professionals who were fun but knew how to get the job done!  One counselor and my assistant principal was from the other comprehensive high school, the second counselor was from my high school and I haven’t stopped laughing yet.  I think I will put our show on the road!  In an attempt to break my assistant principal from wearing “his” school colors, I challenged him to a bet that the school administrator whose school had the most discipline referrals would have to wear the other school’s colors weekly.  Should I mention that I lost that bet the first week and was “paraded” around during the break wearing the other schools colors!  In my shame, I would much rather the students take pride in their school colors rather than their gang colors. 

 

Inaddition to meeting with the staff regarding rules and regulations, I took time the first day to read them to students.  “Summer School is a privilege, not a right.” Although I do not like to dismiss students from summer school, repeat offenders are dropped from the session.  Students must earn 56 hours of seat time; showing up late or ditching class also eventually results in a drop from the session.  When a student is sent to the office with a referral they automatically lose an hour of attendance which factors into their allowed 6 hours before they are dropped from a class. Need I say more, summer school runs itself!   Makes one wonder, how different the regular year would be if education was indeed a privilege instead of a “right”?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6-12-08 -- Don't Look Ethel

Graduation Day! What more needs to be said?  I still get a little choked up as I put on my black robe and adjust the hood lined the satin colors of my university and degree.   We put our children on buses waving their lunchboxes the first day of school, join the PTA, bake cupcakes for birthdays, attend musicals, band performances, sporting events and shuffle them back and forth to practices until that grand day in May (in our case June) when they walk across a finely manicured lawn to shake the Principals hand and receive a coveted cowhide to certify they have completed the requirements for twelve years of education.  The joy, the fear, the tears that roll down every parents face as they watch that 15 seconds which thrusts their baby into the hard cruel world of adulthood.  If it was only that easy! 

 

In our case that 15 seconds of pride involves about two months of planning.  This year our school graduated 571 seniors and trust me this event doesn’t happen like magic.  Counselors rush around to ensure that graduation requirements are met; including that final on the last day of classes, secretaries proof-read lists of seniors verifying that ALL names are included on the program, the registrar orders metals for Valedictorians (our school bestows this honor to all with a 4.0), the custodial staff makes sure all the chairs are properly angled on the field and the stage is secured, the Principal rehearses his speech, the hired security guards work traffic control in an endless sea of automobiles, Campus Supervisors remind guests that they can not “save seats” in the stadium as thousands pack together to participate a milestone of their graduate’s life.  I stood at the gate smiling at guests and shaking hands watching the crowd for any thing that might disrupt this dignified ceremony for about two hours prior to the event.

 

Then suddenly, just as glorious as a sunrise they appeared around the corner… all decked out in their green robes and gold sashes.  As the bagpipes played an introduction, I attempted to clear a path through the crowd who arrived too late to be seated.  First came the teachers…  I filed in at the back of this line to ensure I secured a seat at the back of the graduates, lest any rogue beach ball magically appear.  Two by two they marched in… smiling from ear to ear, cameras clicking, roars from the audience was almost deafening as pomp and circumstance played their entrance.  Finally they were all seated.  Since we have such a large senior class, speakers are cautioned to keep their speeches short and to the point. 

 

I sat smiling to myself at the beautiful behavior of our graduates as the Principal “Who has a lion's roar but heart of gold” thanked the crowd for their influence on our children’s lives and an invitation to the Class of 2008 to meet him in 2028.  All was well UNTIL… mid-way through the Senior Class President’s speech the crowd started to ROAR and Seniors began to stand on their seats… I attempted to re-seat them when I looked up and noticed an almost naked young man (he did manage to wear sneakers and a sock on his private part) ran across the visitor’s side of the stadium (opposite of crowd) with two hired security guards chasing after him. 

 

Of course this streaker was not content to merely run across the track… he had to jump the fence and run the entire lengthof the visitors stands with the crowd cheering him on.   The young lady attempted to finish her speech, and then the Principal reminded the crowd that graduating seniors deserved a dignified ceremony… he quickly added “from this point on.”  Everyone had a good laugh and somehow, we managed to carry on as if nothing had ever happened.  Part of me wanted to laugh, the other was furious!  We had worked for months to make this a "DIGNIFIED"  ceremony for these kids… and in just a matter of seconds it became a ceremony that none of us will soon forget.

 

I guess this was the last “teachable moment” we will have with these kids… regardless of how much you plan or secure arrangements there is always somebody out there that is willing to “show their behind” and turn your hard work into just another joke.  What we choose to do with these set backs is what truly makes us an adult.

6-11-08 - Disneyland Jail

Every child looks forward to the last week of school.  Seniors anticipate this week more than the rest knowing that soon they will be closing the chapter of childhood and moving on to adulthood.  Of course most of us, look back and wish we could go back to those carefree days before mortgages and electric bills, while remembering how anxious we were to “get out of school” ourselves.   School administrators look at the last week of school with both joy and anxiety.   I started this week off with an honor student in tears because she contracted a nasty case of “senioritis” and failed her senior English class.  After much convincing I reminded her that she could make the credit up in summer school (I am principal this year… pray for the children) and sent her on her way with a big hug and a promise that life would go on! 

 

The best word to describe this week is “activities.”  As I long for the comfort of my easy chair and the nightly line up of reruns. I know that this week is not only filled with graduation, but yearbook distribution, ice cream socials, cap and gowns, senior barbeque, senior award assemblies, graduation practice, lots of tears, and in our case… the dreaded GRAD NITE!

 

For the life of me, I can’t imagine any school official in their right mind agreeing to take ten chartered buses of teenagers to Disneyland for the entire night before gradation, but after many years this has now become a “scared cow” at our school which in my opinion is past due for the slaughter house.  Now lest you think I’ve become “Scrooged”… every GRAD NITE for the past six years I have been sent to Disney Jail to baby-sit knuckle-heads who thought it was more important to get drunk/high than to walk in the graduation ceremony.   (Students who fail they security check are banished to Disneyland Nursery which has been tranformed for the evening into Disney Jail.)  This travesty is despite the students signing senior contracts, administrative warnings, and plain ole’ common sense!

 

You see, the way this works is … every bus has an adult assigned to it, we travel about an hour to Disneyland and join other schools from all over the state, when we arrive the Disney guards search each student (and sponsor) and if caught with contraband (or under the influence) they are sent to “Disney Jail” where school officials are called from a loud speaker to “deal” with their students.  We then call parents to make the long drive to pick their “Little Einstein” and remind them that their kid will not be participating in the graduation ceremony the next day.  Trust me, it is a joy to be the administrator who breaks this news!  Traditionally it entails at least three hours of waiting with some stoned kid wailing all night until their furious parent arrives.  Unfortunately, this fury is not focused on the individual who made the stupid decision, but the “heart-less” school official!”  “Don’t you know that Aunt Mable flew all the way across the country to see little Johnny graduate”?    As you can imagine, this is NOT a fun conversation!

 

This year we took a different approach; in addition to be searched by Disney security, we hired a private company to search students BEFORE they loaded the busses.  I asked to speak to the kids AGAIN at graduation practice.  This year, instead of making a joke out of it as in years past by saying “Don’t Send Castleman to Disney Jail” and “Friends Don’t Let Friends Do Stupid Things” this year I was more somber.  I asked all those who planned to go to GRAD NITE to stand up.  I then asked them to look to their right and left … and told them if history repeats as it has for the previous six years at least two people standing will not participate in the graduation because of something “STUPID” they did at GRAD NITE.  And pleaded “Please don’t make me call your parents and tell them that all the plans they have made for twelve years have been shattered because of something “STUPID” their little “KNUCKLEHEAD” did the night before.

 

As usual, the Senior Awards Ceremony ran overtime… the kids were beginning to arrive and anxiously waiting in the gym.  Of course we had accidentally “double-booked” the gym and it was not only filled with almost 600 teenagers, but a bunch of little kids shooting hoops.  Finally the searches began and all passed through.  We loaded the busses and they left the campus without a single broken down bus as in years past.  I drove to Disney checking my phone for messages every 15 minutes… no calls.  I managed to work my way through the crowd, through the searching, and arrived at the “holding area” for sponsors… no messages.  I commented to a colleague I felt like a Chihuahua on caffeine waiting for the dreaded summons to Disney Jail.   I planted myself at the table for a couple hours waiting… nothing!  Finally I decided to give up and go play with my favorite group of young teachers.   Had we really made it this year without an incident?

 

About 4:30 a.m. we received a call that a girl was sick at her stomach and had gone to the infirmary.  We met her there, called her mother who opted to have her taken to the bus with one of our awesome sponsors since it was close to departure time.  As I walked back to my car… I shook my head in disbelief.   Was it possible that I had just left Disney with a smile on my face??   This class had actually made it without any GRAD NITE causalities... maybe this truly is the "Happiest Place On Earth."  We made it back home with only a couple kids on the wrong bus and I could actually go home a sleep before graduation.  OH JOY!!

 

*Disneyland, Disney, and GRAD NITE are trademarks of Disney Inc.

6-9-08 -- Raising Children

For my family and friends...the mothers...

by Anna Quindlen

If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they ever existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the black button eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow ringlets and the high piping voice. The sturdy toddler with the lower lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin. ALL MY BABIES are gone now.

I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction ! in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like.

Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete.

Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relatives --what they taught me was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout.. One boy is toilet trained at 3, his brother at 2.

When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit- up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant! death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.

Eventually you must learn to trust yourself.

Eventually the research will follow.

I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China.Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed.

The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons.

What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.

The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts.


It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

6-8-08 -- Look A Bit Deeper

This week has been particularly long in that my doctor knows me and restricted me to bed rest because I just couldn’t shake the creepy crud that has invaded our school.  This “overdoit” disease seems to be an epidemic with most school administrators.  Unfortunately where as some can “ignore it” and it goes away, that approach doesn’t seem to work for me!  I don’t corner the market on not taking care of myself either, seems most school officials push through things that would put mere mortals in the hospital.  We refer to our school as a "family" and trust me, when we get a bug we share with everyone.  Personally I think that “snotty nosed” teenager than I assigned Saturday School deliberately blew germs on me in some sort of bio-terroristic plot against the system!  OK… now paranoia has now formally set in.

 

I slept for a couple days straight… I think.  Then I started to get cabin fever… even trips to the medicine cabinet was a welcome field trip from the mundane.  Finally when I had all the “rest” I could handle, I found myself with my lap top engaging on one of my favorite time-wasters… hidden clue puzzles.   If you have never enjoyed one of these just imagine “Where’s Waldo” meets "Sandford and Son."  These talented designers send you from room to room looking for hidden clues such as hockey pucks, bottle caps, calculators, vintage lamps and fake teeth buried in a sea of hundreds of items in any given location.  Now these clues may be hidden any where in the room including buried in the wallpaper, may be in the form of a word in sign or various shapes.  I have convinced myself that doing these puzzles will keep my brain sharp thus justifying the time I could be doing something more productive for society.

 

As I was working my puzzle over the morning coffee I asked myself the question… why don’t I approach “humans” the same way I do these puzzles?   At first glance some folks may look like a nuclear attack on Fred Sanford’s garage, but upon deeper inspection there are always gems hidden just below the surface. You may have to look past the snakes and spiders buried in the rubble but if you take the time you can usually find wonderful treasures in all of us. 

 

In some of these silly puzzles I waste time analyzing the deep hidden images only to step back and find the clue as obvious as the nose on my face.  All the time I wasted attempting to scan every sector of the wallpaper leaves me frustrated and clueless.  In turn, at times we need to take people at face value and not read all the small nuances into their behavior at any given moment.   

 

I am the world’s worst at making excuses for people.  For instance before I was banished from my office I had a couple of really nasty parent encounters.  One issue was for some unknown reason a young man decided he wanted to make a bong instead of a vase in his art class.  I picked up the phone to advise his father that I had given him a Saturday School only to hear his father making excuses for his son.  At first my mind was startled and attempted to make excuses for this Dad’s “stupid” behavior.  Truth is… when I stepped back and looked at the situation, the clue was hidden in the fact Dad simply doesn’t have “a clue”!!!   I immediately told him it was difficult for me to believe that I was having this conversation with a parent and I hoped he would speak to his son about such behavior.

 

Any of us that routinely work with people are in the business of hunting clues.  How can I help this person based upon the clues they have revealed to us?  I am a firm believer that all people have some redeeming qualities… it is humanity’s job to find the treasures and help that individual develop into the best they can be in this crazy world.   The question is do we ( I ) take the time to help them find these clues or do we dismiss them as simply another lost cause?