Did someone say the R word at a school board meeting?

The rounds of meetings for the school district’s NCLB plan have been very interesting. This meeting had a fairly low bullshit level and the speakers were persuasive. Around 25 parents and teachers were there.

Some background: Last year several more schools in the district flunked under NCLB. The district as a whole is under “PI Status“. Unfortunately “PI” doesn’t mean we get to throw pies at each other or become private investigators. In September, all parents got a letter saying that we were in PI status. I had no idea what that meant. It meant that someone had to write a Plan… Meanwhile, I think before PI Status was declared, I went to a community meeting at my kid’s school where the new Superintendent spoke and impressed me a fair bit with talk about process, feedback, communication, and other fuzzy warm things.

Then a few days later we were all in PI status and were freaking out. What did it mean? At that point all it meant to me from my point of ignorance was that a 5 year countdown was started, and a scary one. And that drastic changes were probably going to happen.

(Let’s point out here I had the luxury and privilege of being ignorant about it all, because my kid was going to a “good” school, admittedly one that was recently and marginally deemed “good” or up and coming, but still; if I didn’t live in this “good” neighborhood then I would not be guaranteed a spot in this school. Parents and teachers and kids on the east side of town have been dealing with this for years now, since NCLB passed as law. My point is, I want to reject that luxury and privilege of ignorance; the philosophy that enables people like me to live in little enclaves and then do “charity”. That’s segregation and it’s inherently wrong.)

Then a lot of fighting happened on the school level and the incompetent weaselly creepy principal got replaced. I was reassured. I kept going to all the EL meetings (English Learners).

(Anglo parents were asking me questions like “What do they talk about in the EL meetings? How they can start learning English?” Ouch. How can white people be so dumb?)

THEN in early December we got a handout at several meetings that summarized the Plan. The Plan started in February (2 months away) and made what to our school looked like major, major curriculum changes as well as laying down how a large part of the day had to be spent. This jacks up the very schools that are passing and surpassing the tests and that are “working”. A week and a half went by with gossip, emails, meetings, and rumors building to a head. Teachers and parents were upset and confused. There was a meeting called quickly by the district (at our new principal’s invitation, I think) at which the Plan administrator told a roomful of parents that there was no room for feedback or change and this was the plan that was happening.

I was pissed off because after all that talk about community input and process from the Supervisor, this is what we got? No communication, no asking for feedback? I heard that other schools also had no idea this was happening or what the plan entailed.

What is at stake for the district is their own jobs. If the district fails in PI two years from now, if they haven’t implemented NCLB in good faith, then they could lose their jobs and the state takes over and replaces them.

So I felt extremely suspicious and angry, very mistrustful, as did many other parents at my kid’s school. You can see where I got cynical. I was so angry I didn’t talk about it on this blog.

Fireworks! More meetings! Massive meetings! A packed school board meeting where we all held forth with our best demogogue suits on.

The Plan scared the pants off me. To me it sounded like taking a barely adequate (for my child) program and changing it to be “cookie cutter” and making everyone study from the same page at the same time. The sticking point for me was the 90 minutes per day of on grade level uninterrupted language arts from a state-mandated textbook. With the teachers basically told what and how to teach, so that everyone in a grade gets the same thing. It was presented as being extremely inflexible.

At the meeting tonight it was spun a bit differently. The training for teachers was emphasized not as something punitive but as something that could be useful and good. (I have my suspicions because the curriculum itself doesn’t look very good.)

But the thing that came through was that the district views itself as fighting institutionalized racism. The English learners are treated as if they are several grade levels behind, when they aren’t. This new plan guarantees that they are all exposed to the grade level material, as well as getting extra EL help.

I was mollified by hearing that it would not be everyone doing the same work for 90 minutes no matter their ability. Instead, the schools can actually split the kids at grade level up however they want. There will be several levels within a level and the curriculum somehow allows for “two grade levels ahead” work. (I’m sure it’s lame, but at least it tries to be there, and the hope is that all the professional development for teachers helps them come up with ways to implement it in ways that don’t suck.)

You can see how my knee-jerk reaction was to be upset that my kid would be bored by the grade-level material, when the reality might be that many kids in his grade in the district never see anything as complex as that material. (Can it be true!? But that’s what they said.)

The Super also talked about her disagreements with NCLB and its treatment of special ed students. She said she thought that would be the first thing to change in the law when it’s revised in 2007.

The EL director talked about many things that were amazing and cool; one was that in her view the district focused on only the EL students (“still learning”) and not the Spanish speakers who were classified as proficient in English. Out of 8000 students in our district, 5200 of them speak more than one language. Their new plan tries to emphasize helping all of them keep their proficiency and develop it. (I’d like to see how, but, at least they seem to have a good philosophy.) She sparked a meeting by personally calling and inviting all the EL parents at a school to the meeting. And she outlined what they came up with (and what the EL committees) came up with for what they wanted to see happen. Their points were: parent resource libraries available locally, more tech help on a local level to help with digital divide issues and make communication better, explanations of the American and California school systems as opposed to those in Central America and Mexico; more trips with parents and kids to college and university campuses, and more cross-school committees with parent representatives.

So much for the numerous people (really!) who said that because our district has so many Spanish-speakers who are used to a different system and who don’t question authority, (so inaccurate of an assumption!) it is a waste of time to try to get their input. (I’m still appalled at this viewpoint but I have heard it time and time again. There are some reasons why white upper class women might not hear the opinionated moments of women of color, i.e. power differential; not some kind of inherent cultural meekness. Argh!)

The superintendent wants the school day extended at the schools that have shorter days. Her mantra is “I want any parent to feel comfortable and happy about sending their kid to any school in this district.” Actually, I can’t argue with that.

I really liked the substitute teacher who spoke up to talk about her perceptions as a person who went from school to school all throughout the district. She had a lot to say. I was sighing with relief that she pointed out that if “enrichment” happens during the EL time, then the EL kids will be missing out on it and it is insane to make the genius spanish speaking kid who just got to this country miss out on the Lego robot programming class (if we had such a thing, which we don’t – much) to sit in remedial kindergarten English phonics. Hear hear.

Our school’s great dance program was mentioned as something the district wants to preserve – and to spread. Of course, we only have that great dance program because our neighborhood gentrified and then the dot com crash happened and then none of the yuppies could afford private school, and also we were radicalizing a bit online to do public on purpose and to Be Involved, and thus our PTA was able to raise 50K for a dance teacher, and on the other side of the tracks they don’t have that 50K. Instead it was a big deal for them to raise $3000 in donations of materials for their school garden. I feel horrible whenever someone points to the Fabulous Dance Program at my son’s school because all it does is emphasize the basic inequities in our school system. No – we don’t want to destroy them or to punish or stifle or drive away the creative independent-thinking teachers – Well, if we don’t then the district had better scramble fast to undo the damage done by leaving those teachers out of the information loop and the planning process.

The superintendent mentioned with a somewhat evil leer that she put the special ed autism kindergarten at Roy Clod (previously the school all the uber rich yuppies fought to get into) to level things out and to make them have to deal. (Unlike the previous district policies which were deliberately concentrating the special ed and “problem” kids at Fenry Horde. And while I’m mentioning Fenry Horde let me add that they had the best poetry in the poetry contest that I judged last year. So much for the “bad school” myth.)

This is all too long and I’ll have to make another post to go into the details.

But, I felt like a bomb thrower by using the words “institutionalized racism” at all. I also suggested that some of the education that needed to happen was education the Anglo/English speaking parents about what “institutionalized racism” means and looks like. Oooo… I said “racism” and suggested we need to have some community discussions about how it gets swept under the table.

My feelings after this meeting are that NCLB still sucks. But the district’s ideas might be good. I still want my kid in the gifted/talented school as it stands. And yet I’m conflicted, because I want all the schools to have excellent gifted/talented programs and would also like all the creative education and fun projects and depth of learning and connection NOT to be just for the g/t kids. (Who perhaps need them least.)

I feel like my brain just got hijacked by subversive maoists, unexpectedly, where I thought I was dealing with incompetent ass-covering bureaucrats. They are revolutionaries and idealists and if a bit of my privilege and my kid’s gets axed in the process, is that such a bad thing in the long run? I want my kid to grow up with peers who have good educations, and who are not discriminated against, more than I want him to program a lego robot when he is in 4th grade.

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Playing with your kid’s presents


drool!!!
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

This is what it’s all about! Elbowing your kid out of the way and setting up their Heroscape terrain hexes and secretly vowing to get on Amazon right away to order the expansion set with the volcano and the lava.

We’ve played through a couple of short combats to check out the rules by now, and it looks like a great game. That doesn’t even matter though. I could just fool around setting up the landscapes and making the animals and the secret agents with bazookas and trench coats and the valkyries and the skeletal dinosaurs and battlebots talk smack to each other in funny voices.

While I was on the floor in my pajamas this morning Moomin got up on the couch and in a voice an octave below his usual voice, like a classic rock radio announcer he went, “Dragon against dragon. Monster against monster. Robot against robot. Army against army. DOOOOOOM!!!”

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All dressed up for the symphony


suited and flowery
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Here’s Moomin in his fancy suit, all dressed up to go to the San Francisco symphony to hear Peter and the Wolf. I got that suit a year and a half ago, for 30 bucks at Macy’s, and it’s only just now getting too small! Being short has its perks for your parents who buy the clothes.

I was proud of my own perky cheerful fancy outfit. You can’t see, but I’m wearing my completely idiotic rainbow studded “punk” belt from Hot Topic. That will jazz up any formal pantsuit and also queer it up a little. Recently I bought a cheap hairdryer (5 bucks at Big Lots!), which I used for the first time with “ICE” gel – it is a very strong gel that hardens into intense crispiness. So, gel, 2 minutes with hairdryer with my head upside down, scrunching and ruffling, and I had an instant poofy Marie Antoinette mohawk. Why don’t I do that more often? I guess it’s just two minutes too much fuss for everyday behavior.

What? You want to hear about the symphony itself? Hello… it’s all about my hair, people.

Rook also looked extremely handsome.

We got to SF early, found free parking a block away from Davies Hall, and walked around looking for, well, looking for a little walk with a cafe at the end of it. At some point I was heading for the LGBT Center on Market and Octavia, but we realized we didn’t quite have time, and stopped at Cafe Trieste instead.

The symphony hall was decorated with enormous Christmas trees all with different themes and signs explaining who had designed them: I noted the one by the French American school in SF and the whale-and-penguin one which Moomin liked a lot.

Rook and Moomin went down to look at the stage close up, before the show started, while I stayed in the nosebleed section looking down at them.

The Youth Orchestra played some Tchaikovsky, Bach, a weird modern drum thing that was a tribute to Charles Ives, and then Peter and the Wolf, narrated by Florence Henderson. Her reading was okay, but I prefer David Bowie’s, which is less barfy. There is no way to make the story non-barfy. In fact as Moomin noted, it’s all about barf. The wolf eats the duck and then the happy ending of the story is that the wolf barfs up the duck, alive. “They should call it, “Peter and the Wolf Barf”, hahahaha!” Up there in the balcony amid many tiny children running around and standing at their seats dancing, we were rowdy but not over the top. Though I think we made Rook uncomfortable with our misbehaviour.

Moomin stood up for most of the performance and made his hands into the characters. My head was the tree where the little bird perches and where Peter sits to lasso the wolf. I thought it was fun, not too disruptive, and showed his creative engagement with the work. He was definitely paying attention and was imaginging the story as he listened to the music! That was fun for me to see.

At home, listening to the story beforehand, he got very into doing interpretive dances. His bird dance was great. When Peter’s music can on he’d do a sort of happy skipping dance. For the cat, we both slinked along slyly, and for the wolf, we stomped and pounced.

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Spin art at dinner


spin art!
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Tonight Jo and Squid and I had dinner.

It was just Squid’s kids and Moomin, and fairly peaceful aside from my getting to experience Leelo’s more lively frustrated moments. (That is a euphemism for getting punched in the stomach, hard!) I saw how much he cheered up and settled down when Squid ran around and played with him. Also when she more or less sat on him – sometimes full body pressure or sensations like that help him focus and how he will throw himself at the couch when he’s frustrated.

We had burgers and fries and then Squid made us lemon-ginger tea with honey; lemons squeezed and ginger chopped up very very small. Delicious.

When Iz wanted to make spin art I was grouchy and impatient and did not want to mess about with paint. My memory of spin art: my mom would put the spinny thing in a high-walled cardboard box, and paint would still spatter everywhere. We wore my dad’s old tshirts and newspaper was down on the floor. Paint still got everywhere.

In retrospect some of this may have been due to the differences between 1976 vs. 2006 spin art technology. More was due to my personal talent in getting paint everywhere if I even look at it crosseyed. You should see me and the bathroom after I purple up every few weeks. Ha!

I’ve been thinking non stop about Jo and her upcoming surgery. I am morbid and yet trying to be cheerful … we examined her scars from previous laparotomies or some other major abdominal surgeries. There’s no way around it, this is going to suck and be really painful for her. I read obsessively on the net about ovarian cysts (not just the “you have a cyst out of control” but “There are massive multiple cysts all over your pelvis and your ca-125 count is up” cysts. The CA-125 count does not seem to mean much on its own as it has a very high false positive rate and it being low does not mean much either; but they take it as a baseline and its changes over time can be meaningful. Also, malignant ovarian cancer is really rare and the benign kind is yukky but way, way more common. Still, I’m extremely unnerved and being around Jo and knowing full well her freakoutedness under (or seething amidst) the braveness she displays I just want to pat her, every second, or give her giant hugs. But one can’t be hugging and acknowledging all that freakedoutedness all the time and so I opt for the morbid joke and the comforting swig of tea.

And then though I have been thinking about this all weekend I haven’t wanted to write about it because it seemed like it could look like deliberate melodrama and also one could say dumb things. Or make it worse by talking about it. Or write about it on one’s blog for the hit counts to go up, even, or people might think that of me. On the other hand the more I think hard about something upsetting, the weirder and more unnatural it is *not* to blog about it, and the more it feels like a lie not to say. I am sure many other bloggers know what I mean about that feeling. And since Jo is writing about this on her own blog(s), it would at some point be more odd for me NOT to talk about it, since we’re friends. (That was convoluted!)

But YES of course underneath I am ready to cry constantly and going “Aaaaa is this the last time I will look at the stars with my friend? Or drive around together, or eat dinner? Please don’t let her die from surgery or in the hospital afterwards in some horrible way or slowly from cancer afterwards.” Duh. Of course that was going through my head every single second. Combined with the inevitable self-centered wallowing thoughts like “If only I had been a better friend, then right now I would not feel so crappy.” (Which of course is not true.)

So in the car I put on the funky “Stymie and the P.L.I.O.” cd that Barak gave me and played the “Home” song on it to feel better, which worked like a fabulous funky hot bath of soothing cheer on my freaked-out heart. I wished I could have been shining and brilliant and witty and funny to distract and cheer her. Instead I was just sort of there. We hope that’s enough sometimes.

Back to the spin art. As I said, I was grouchy and negative thinking of the fuss and clean-up for Squid that it would surely entail. (After a long day for her and a night spent at the hospital with baby Mali, who had croup.) Squid was more cheerful, helped, figured out the paint situation, all while lugging a baby around, making tea, trying to eat her own dinner, and wrangling Leelo. So I settled in and then got very into making the little squares of cardboard. Iz and Moomin made a bunch of them, and Jo and I took our turns! We pushed the medium; as always she is an ideal partner for making a slightly boring activity as interesting as possible and asking silly yet excellent questions like “What can we do to this square of cardboard and spinny machine that no one meant us to do?” We used hairpins and french fries to smudge and scratch the paint and, given a little more time, could probably have invented something horrifying. There was some wild talk about using non-paint household substances.

It was a cosy, nice, low-key night. And may there be many more.

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Where babies come from

Y’all are going to love this short, sweet >German sex-ed picture book. What I don’t understand is how two stripey people make a non-stripey baby.

Click through the pictures to read the whole book. It’s very funny!

Also… as my friend MJ points out… why is that baby making jazz hands?

*** Updated to fix the link! ***

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Ninja pizza burner in the house

Moomin just told me that my superhero ninja power could be “burning the pizza”. It’s only a little burned, honest to god it’s still edible.

“You’ll throw it like one of those ninja things.”

“Discus? Shuriken? “

“Yeah! Ninja pizza burner power cuttin’ off your head, and your name can be Ninja Pizza Blood!”

I’m just glad he’s not mad that the pizza is a bit dry and nasty!

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Cookies and revolution!

Tonight I had cookies, gingerbread, nice cheese and crackers, chocolate, hot cider, a sweet present exchange, and REVOLUTION. It was a fiery passionate activist meeting about local politics. That’s why I love PTA meetings!

We heard more information about the school district’s proposed plan to implement No Child Left Behind. It’s completely insane. I hate NCLB and so does nearly everyone else that i can tell. It is, as one mom so eloquently put it, a matter of the state having a gun to the district’s head, and the district trying to get the state off their backs. That is one part of NCLB. The other part is that we as a district are not meeting all the students’ needs and we especially need better English Language Learner (ELL) help. (In other words… the dreaded “bilingual education” that the state stupidly dismantled years ago.) Our school is 48% Spanish speakers, I think, who are also ELL officially. And then some other fairly small percentage of other ELL students – South Pacific and Asian. That is the subgroup that is not passing the NCLB state tests.

Tonight I learned that the states set their own standards. So, for example, Texas set its grade-level standards super insanely low, and so it gets to report for NCLB that quite a lot of its students pass. California set their standards extremely high, somewhere in the top 5 as far as what is required of each grade level. I need to look up documentation for that. NCLB is even more insane than I had thought, to punish states for setting high standards for education.

One huge issue in our school is that we have most of the school in multi-age classrooms. This is complicated… I’m going to skip it for now… but the NCLB PI (Program Improvement) plan as proposed right now will change our whole curriculum in mid-year, starting this January, and includes 90 uninterrupted minutes of a canned and scripted “curriculum” in Language Arts, and 60 in math. That doesn’t leave much room for the multi-age stuff. For example, imagine Moomin spending 90 minutes a day on a 2nd grade reader. That thought alone makes me want to gnaw my fingernails.

But moving on… To me it seems inherently wrong to force the teachers in all our schools to change their books, methods, time spent, way they organize their day and their interactions with the kids, in mid-year. I can see taking over an hour, or something, to add in more ESL or ELL or ELD, whatever they are calling it, teaching, or pull the kids out of class more often for ESL, in other words, hire more bilingual teachers and specialists. (How stupid is it to have a school with half its kids Spanish-speakers, and not teach the teachers Spanish? Or hire bilingual teachers when the opportunity arises?)

Anyway I’ve seen the HM books and they are dumb and boring. I hear the other curriculum option … One Start? Something like that… is much worse.

This is all particularly sad because a bunch of teachers just went to a cool conference on Differentiated Instruction and came back all inspired with great ideas for creative classroom projects… It’s like they got a shot of John Dewey right in the ass… which is what pretty much all schools in this country need. So they were fired up, and now they’re ready to quit. Our teachers are good, and I respect them! They need more creative freedom, not less, to teach, and more resources… not a narrowing of what they’re allowed to do and use in the classroom.

Now for the revolution part. I promised revolution!

A bunch of people were talking not just about how people were going to start pulling their kids out to private school – but about staging or threatening walkouts, sickouts, home school days on Friday on some rotating cooperative schedule: hitting the district financially. I was amazed. Everyone ran home to write email and make phone calls. “We are the ones with the power,” I heard…. Just wow.

The PTA president spoke up in favor of fighting against the changes, but not destroying our school or our district. She was very eloquent in praise of unity. Other people said unity is all very well but we need to threaten and be hard-asses, and not give the message that we will stick to the school and to the public school system no matter what, or else our voices won’t be heard.

This from women who bake some mean cookies and can do all this activism shit while breastfeeding after a full day of wrangling multiple children and/or working a job.

I’ve talked to several teachers outside the meetings, who say that they are thinking about leaving the district, selling their houses, moving somewhere else, (where??) and that they would not want their own chldren coming to a school, any school, in our district if this plan gets implemented.

My opinion is that the district should do a massive push to get community feedback. They dropped the ball on educating us about NCLB and what it means. Actually, it is too complex for us to learn in many ways, which is part of its problem…. We barely got our heads wrapped around the scores and what they mean and now, this curriculum stuff. Anyway, the district needs to back off a bit, get input, respond faster than they have been, and throttle back their plan. They have to turn in a plan by early January; so they should make the plan a bit slower in how it comes into effect.

And also they are dumb to throw everyone into upheaval, when we are all hoping NCLB is going to be overturned next year anyway.

The real issue in this district is the lack of resources and money and time for teaching English, and teaching it mainly to Spanish speakers. I would say also their dealing with special ed students is not great. And that it is worse since NCLB because the testing setup gives the districts a huge incentive to try to drive special needs kids completely out of the public system. NCLB is a losing game. It guarantees that our public education system will be destroyed and will destroy itself. We’ll dick around fighting each other and our local government when we should be fighting Bush and the insane Republicans, the religious nuts, and the fake Democrats who voted NCLB into law. I need to figure out if there is some way for us to mobilize around that, while still doing everything else on the local level.

And if I could work in one more pet peeve: This sort of meeting is why I get boiling mad when I hear people – men and women, conservatives, moderates, and progressives – use “PTA” as a synonym for “idiots”. Using the PTA as a metaphor for all that is trivial, stupid, and meaningless, is blatant misogyny. The women (and the few men) who go to school meetings are activists and politicians. I get annoyed with specific tactics of fundraising, but I hugely respect parent and community involvement in schools. So shut up about how stupid the PTA is.

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Newsflash: people without kids can be boring too

So your “friends” got boring? No problem! Just play into misogynist stereotypes of how women who use their uteruses lose their brains and personality. That’ll keep you entertained!

Because of course there’s no interesting women out there who also have had babies!

Perhaps guys who have babies remain fascinating, slutty, un-streetsmart wannabe starfuckers? Because that’s the epitome of cool!

Grrrrr.

Of all the things to think your “friend” is cool for, “having flirted with Johnny Depp once” is about the dumbest possible.

It seems like I heard this thing once, about friendship, and sticking together, and helping people through rough times in life… Naaah. Must have been my imagination.

Mood: Annoyed

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Dancing with iguanas

Almost every night Rook sings “Mythical Kings and Iguanas” to Moomin.

When it’s my turn to sing I can never think of anything and besides, am not a good singer or lyrics-rememberer; so I sing the first bit of “The last unicorn“, which my dad always sang to me and my sister. I don’t remember the rest of the verses and besides, they’re too sad. If I’m feeling wacky then I substitute lots of words, or make it all about cats, or whatever. Or I can sing most of “This Land Is Your Land” a bit off-key, or “A You’re Adorable” which my grandma sang me a lot; it must have stuck somehow.

Tonight Moomin sang me a song. I had been explaining to him what beatboxing is and he was pretty excited about that idea. I’ll download him some examples and show him the Wikipedia article, maybe tomorrow.

Then we read a couple of chapters of Alice Through the Looking Glass. He liked the Walrus and the Carpenter. And, out of the blue, he offered to sing me a song.

Smart kid… my voice really does suck.

“Did you know that sometimes, actually, I’m making up songs in my head, and it’s like I can hear them.”

“No, I didn’t know… That’s pretty cool.”

So here’s his song, titled, “My Old Friend Rock and Roll”. I think he was trying to sound like Joan Jett.

Rock n roll is my friend, yeah
*guitar sounds*
Rock n roll is my friend!
*guitar sounds*

No one can stop my dancin’!
Because my old friend rock n roll
is always dancin’ with me!
*guitar sounds*

Books and rock n roll!
They’re always dancin’ with me!
They like to set me free!
My old friend rock n roll
is always dancin’ with me!
That’s why I’m dancin’, yeah, yeah!
*guitar sounds*

I cried a little. It was awesome.

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A simple belief about gender

Nearly every day, in the most casual conversation, people reveal their gender bias. Every time they do, they dig sexism deeper into their own minds and into the minds of anyone listening, including tiny children barely able to talk.

Today outside of school, I was standing next to another mom, a very nice person, fun, smart, and a great parent. The bell rang to let the kids switch from classrooms back to their homeroom before dismissal, and three little boys ran by us. “They’re not supposed to run, they should walk,” she remarked. “But… Boys! They never walk! You can’t make them!” (Said with affectionate approval.)

To most people, this sounds like an innocuous remark. To me, it is the equivalent of smiling benevolently and saying “Ah, white people! They’re so active and enterprising!” In other words, I find it jarring, bizarre, absolutely nonsensical, and offensive. I also find it actively harmful. I am embarrassed for them. I want to cover the ears of the children who heard that. Do they think that girls are naturally easier to tell what to do, or naturally less physically active? Either way, I consider it a harmful prejudice. If you are a little girl hearing this sort of statement many times daily since you were born, and you happen to be very physically active, then you feel like a freak, an outsider, abnormal.. you are “otherized” and marginalized. This conversation happens for many other areas of life, intellectual pursuits as well as physical. It has extremely damaging consequences for boys as well as girls.

And when I am asked to participate in a conversation where the point of it is to establish that we both agree on an essentialist and sexist worldview where boys are a certain way, and girls are a certain way, I refuse to participate in that conversation. I either contradict the statement as nicely as I can, or I walk away.

It is a personal reaction for me, as well, because I feel alienated by then knowing that other person is seeing my own gender in a particular way. This is strong language to use, but it assaults my own identity. I realize I am in a minority in this feeling, but the pressure often feels intense for me. When I was growing up in the hippy 70s, I experienced very little discussion of “how girls were”. I was how I was. That was it. I could do anything, and try anything, and be any way I wanted to be. Without constant messages from my own parents and teachers about what girls liked, and were, and did.

I watched the very beautiful and talented children from my son’s school in a dance performance yesterday, and loved every minute of it. But during the “Ghostbusters” dance, there was a scenario where the ghosts (mixed gender) menaced some scared people (all girls) who were then defended by dancers with enormous toy guns (all boys). I don’t object to the guns – they were fun! I object to the gender division, which sends a terrible, sexist message. Even if the children (from their own already installed gender biases and wanting to appear “normal”) self-selected to be scared girls and brave defending gun-wielding boys, as adults, we should set up similar situations to be even-handed; for example just saying, “I need two girls and two boys to be the defenders, and 3 girls and 3 boys to be the ones who run away from ghosts.” It could be that easy and natural.

What I want to point out here is that, no matter whether you agree with me or not, I would like people to notice the ubiquitousness of this conversation about gender. Why is it so important to have it? And to remark on how girls are and how boys are? Why is it a constant subject?

I argue that it has to be constantly asserted because it isn’t true. But the person asserting it has some vested interest in making it be true. And they are attempting to assuage that uncertainty, by saying how “of course it is”. By doing that, they make it become more true. Words are a magic spell that make ideas real.

What would our reality look like if we didn’t say these things all the time? If we ungendered our Toys R Us “pink vs. violent” toy aisles, our speech, and our minds? If we would quit telling our children that boys misbehave and are violent and physical, and yet somehow also magically grow up to be non-emotional and better engineers, and that girls are .. ugh, whatever women are supposed to be… Then a layer of bullshit would be removed from the world. We might still notice some broad generalizations that could be made, but the spectrum of full humanity could be nourished, accepted, and made stronger.

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A strange holiday parade




floating tiny car with flames
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

It doesn’t get any more magic than our town’s holiday parade. Why they have a winter holiday parade, I’m not sure – to show off the great weather? It doesn’t make sense, but neither does the New York City Thanksgiving parade. The crowds swirled around, determined to have fun, to have an event… it always seems like magic for anything to happen, the banishment of routine and apathy.

How I loved the crying baton-twirlers, the bewildered, terrified dancers and marchers. The earnest marching bands! Jo’s 10-year-old daughter Eliz. and I got into an argument about quality in general as she was watching the parade with undisguised horror.

“So, you’d be totally humliliated if you had to march and shake those pompoms and sing like that, right?”

“Yup. You got it. How can they? They aren’t any good. Look, they don’t even know what to do.”

“Well, you can enjoy the badness.”

“That only goes so far! “

I tried to explain my enjoyment of the parade was not completely irony-filled sneering. “It’s about standing up as a little person, a regular person, and saying what you do is important. We could all just be in the parade even without costumes and without doing anything special, just for civic pride and participation. That’s what makes it beautiful.”

“Yeah riiiiight. Actually it’s all about the advertisements.”

Then some people in regular clothes with reindeer antler headbands marched by holding an indefinable banner, not doing any kind of performance in particular. Eliz. shot me a look of deadly cynicism.

At times there were really good dancers! There was music – choreography – complexity – talent and energy.

And then, strange sights you never see anywhere else but small town parades, like this tiny car with painted flames. Who needs to go to Burning Man… we have enough strangeness right here. What would possess a grown person to own, to build, to cram his butt into, then to drive out in, this tiny car? Whatever that spirit is, I love it.

Moomin’s class did an animal dance; Sophie’s did a part of “Coming to America” from West Side Story that made me cringe a little bit. From high school students I could maybe see it, but from kindergarteners waggling their hips saucily, I found it perturbing:

Lots of new housing with more space
Lots of doors slamming in our face
I’ll get a terrace appartment
Better get rid of your accent
Life can be bright in America
If you can fight in America
Life is alright in America
If you’re a white in America

After we collected Moomin we ran off to see the fireworks get shot off from the library parking lot. It did not disappoint. The show lasted at least 20 minutes and was amazing – not only that, we were right underneath the fireworks and could smell the smoke drifting down. It was beautiful.

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Snowflakes, 50 cents!


snowflakes, 50 cents!
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Moomin and his friend Izzy just made snowflakes, funny hats, ornaments, and booklets. I think they made about $2.50 each.

I love when kids sell stuff that they made. The snowflakes were the most popular at either a quarter or 50 cents each. And I bet people will take them home, tape them up in the window, and actually enjoy them!

There is just something so cool about the way they get excited about setting up their display, and the hope of maybe someone walking by. I remember it well. After I sold my lemonade or rocks or whatever it was, my friend Chrissy and I would go to the IGA corner store and buy 5 cent candies. Don’t I sound old? Moomin is almost old enough to walk to the Whole Foods with a friend, but what the heck would they buy? An organic chocolate bar for $4.99?

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A crucial skill transmitted from mother to child

“Hey Mom. Ahem. Mom. Are you noticing something?”

“What?”

“I’m just like you. I’m reading while walking.”

Yes… I am very proud of my book-loving, daydreaming, space cadet offspring! It’s a good skill to have in life. The rule is that you have to put your finger in the book as a bookmark while crossing the street.

The other thing to notice lately is that Moomin lost another tooth!

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15 million insane craft projects later


turkeys
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

We made turkeys with cupcake papers, pumpkin napkin rings out of paper towel tubes, paper plate Mayflowers… The craftiness overwhelmed me. I have to admit, these turkeys came out to be charming.

This afternoon Moomin’s grandma took all the cousins one by one on a special toy store trip to the place down on 116th Street. They came back with legos, bionicles, more legos, and a transformer. I advised them all to share as much as possible with the people who weren’t their siblings, since then the toys would leave town and might never be seen again.

I enjoyed the peaceful lounging around and putting together of robots and dinosaurs. And thought about the process necessary in building models as well as craft projects. The model-building needs exact following of comforting instructions, while the craft projects in my opinion turn out best when creative flair and new interpretations are put into play. “Mistakes”, with the craft project, often improve it… like the eyes at different levels on the jaunty turkey to the right.

Later on, my oldest nephew pointed out to me that you can’t argue that God created everything, because there are other planets a million light-years away. I pointed out that if you believe in an omnipotent god then of course she/he/it could have easily set things up to trick us by creating either the appearance of planets a million light years away or else the reality. But then said I was an atheist anyway and if you wanted to chew on a fabulous concept, consider the idea of infinite parallel universes that split off from each other every instant as things happen one way and also (in the other universes) happen another way or in fact every other way. He just sort of stood there blowing a gasket. I enjoyed that.

In general it was stressful but also really great to be in this house full of in-laws and so many rambunctious smart entertaining demanding kids. It made me think of going to the pet store and seeing cages full of very clean young rats all stepping on each other’s heads with vast bustling energy and cheerfulness as they chew everything to bits. But in a good way; just, from within, sometimes it is your head getting stepped on.

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What a good dog would do

We just had a spirited discussion of good dogs vs. bad dogs, sparked by reading a bunch of “Peanuts” cartoons.

“I guess a good dog has to do what its master tells it to do.”

(Oh! Too depressing of a conclusion to draw from any comic strip! I couldn’t let it pass without comment.)

“Well, what if the dog doesn’t have a master?”

“I dunno. But if it had one, then, Snoopy is writing that the good dog does nothing. But that’s not true because if its master was calling it and it did nothing, then it wouldn’t be doing what it’s supposed to do, so it would be a bad dog.”

(Good logic there, and awareness of paradox or dilemma).

M. on the statue of Balto

“What if its master was a supervillain? Then what?”

“Well… hmmm…..”

“Then if it obeyed it would probably be doing something bad.”

“And if it didn’t then it would also be bad.”

“Yeah. So what would you do if you were a dog and you belonged to a supervillain?”

“I’d bounce on the bed, ka-boing, ka-boing, ka-boing! All night long! KA-BOING!!!!”

I was impressed by this answer to ethical paradox. Apparently, if he can’t bounce on the bed, it’s not his revolution!

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In New York City

I’ve had a great week away from home! Almost a whole week in New York City, doing research for a book, and staying with my friend Laura.

Most of the daytime I spent in the library at Columbia – I had to pay 60 bucks for a week’s access. The dusty stacks on the 5th floor were totally heaven, except the wireless didn’t work when I was that deep in books. On the second day, my computer broke! Oh my god! You have no idea, the stress. It would flake out and die without any warning, and then refuse to start up again about 3 times out of 4. I spent a good part of Wednesday in the Apple Store in SoHo. My trusty little 12 inch laptop needs a new logic board. It’s almost 3 years old so I guess it’s no surprise.

I’m using my friend’s extra laptop! Good thing she had one. And Stingykids offered me her old laptop too. It’s nice that my friends had my back.

So, back to the library. This has nothing to do with parenting or being a mom, but it’s what I’ve been doing and someone might find it interesting. I developed a procedure of quickly browsing armloads of books, then taking as many as I could carry to the reading room, where I could get wireless. Then I’d take notes. I have a nifty new wiki set up where I can keep my notes – trust me, this was FUN to set up, and is amazingly fun to use! From there, I’d bookmark the pages I wanted to xerox, and go do that when I’d finished with that batch. Then return the books and … crucial… remember to go to the bathroom. This library was particularly wonderful because it had a nice cafe and lounge on the first floor, inside the circulation area, so you could basically live inside the building.

I got very very excited at all the fantastic poetry. I have so much to work on! I wish I could be in that library for another week.

By the way, if anyone can find me a complete copy of La bandera de Chile, please tell me – I’ll pay for it plus whatever it takes to ship it or scan it or take photos! Anyone in Austin? They have it there…

When not reading, taking notes, or xeroxing, I was:

– going to bookstores
– buying a million new armwarmers from street vendors
– browsing through more books on the sidewalk
– eating really great food
– hanging out with Laura talking about our lives, about books, writing, and computers
– going (in the evening) to poetry readings and discussions of translations
– riding the subway to and from everywhere
– walking everywhere else
– getting lost
– taking blurry cameraphone photos
– tagging my photos
– blogging (mostly on the NYC Metroblog and on Composite)

It was a really great vacation and I got to see a lot of my friends and even met a blog-friend for the first time in real life.

Rook and Moomin are flying out here right now! I’ll see them in the morning – they’re going to come and join me in Manhattan, we’ll have some kind of adventure, and then we’ll head back out to the boondocks to stay with Rook’s parents.

I have to admit, I feel like an extra super duper grownup for running around Manhattan at all hours.

Every time I felt a little bit dorky about taking a photo on the street, I’d notice that all around me, other people were also looking a little embarrassed as they whipped out their cameras.

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Staying out of it

It’s a fine line, staying out of a playdate while not being a total bitch. I try to cultivate an aloof yet kindly air, like a haughty mother camel who can’t be bothered to sit on the floor and play “jungle explorers” but who would of course get up from her desk and get you a juice box and some oreos, and who also of course doesn’t mind if you use every pillow in the house plus her precious hand-grown-from-pit-and-toothpicks avocado tree to construct a Jungle Cave, even when she is still pretty much dying of bronchitis and gulping down quarts of gross-o-lyptus herbal tea.

Without ever snapping “For god’s sake quit bothering me” … and… without getting so into their game that the other kids start to be your friend and not your kids’ friend, because even when sick and trying to work, it’s sort of tempting to put on a headlamp, grab a voltmeter, and become a Jungle Explorer.

It’s all about establishing boundaries!

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Hell is a basketball


Hell on earth
Originally uploaded by Liz Henry.

Hell is a basketball that’s bigger than your whole torso, flying towards you at a bazillion miles an hour. The kids who are all a head taller than you or more jostle you in line. As you approach the 7 foot tall, jocular, hearty sports coach (I imagine you can look up and see his nose hairs in horrible detail), you look up at the basketball hoop floating practically in orbit. Closer… closer…. Quick, nip to the end of the line again so as to avoid the moment when you muster up all your strength and the basketball maybe goes about two feet above your head in some random direction. The coach can barely conceal his dismissal of you as a human being, and the big kids stare blankly.

My son… I’ve so been there.

The bouncing drill wasn’t quite as awful as shooting baskets. When I got to the fiery pits of hell (this playground) the kids were paired up and bouncing the basketballs back and forth. Moomin’s partner, a burly kid with a crew cut, was trying to pull his punches. Moomin would stand there with his arms folded, projecting hatred, indifference, and “Humph”. The ball would bounce his way. About 5 seconds after the ball either hit him or went bouncing by, he’d fake-act like he was trying to catch it, and then just go pick it up. Then he’d try to hold the basketball while crossing his arms again, which was impossible, so he settled for looking extremely displeased and then let the ball flobber gently from his hands. To his credit, he kept going through the motions and didn’t actually burst into tears. And to young Bluto’s credit, he didn’t stalk off to find another partner or say anything rude. To the teachers’ discredit (four of them, for maybe 12 kids) none of them acted like they noticed.

Well, Rook warned me the “basketball drill” was a disaster. I took Moomin out of it early. It was horribly painful to watch the “sports” and to know so well what he was going through. And how angry and bored he was.

“Mom, guess what.”

“What?”

“I H-A-T-E sports. Especially basketball. “

“Guess what Moomin?”

“What?”

“I also hate basketball. Hated it. H-A-T-E. Sorry you had to play it.”

“That’s okay Mom. Don’t feel bad about it.”

Erg! I’m going to hell, where they’ll make me shoot baskets for infinity…

I promised him that after next week he can decide whether to stay in the program or not. Next week is soccer, which he might like better. I explained about Pele who was extremely short and didn’t think he could be good at any sports, and who was the best soccer player ever (all information based on dim memory of a book read in maybe 1976).

But I don’t have the heart to make him stay in this super boring program where they don’t play actual games. I can’t even tell what the point of it is – it’s mostly about waiting in line and then all failing repeatedly at an impossible task – NOT about “healthy exercise”. Why not have them all play tag or capture the flag or some variant of a harmless sport like t-ball? If they were “sporty” kids they’d most of them already be signed up for an actual team.

Oh, and did I mention the kicker of this sad story? At the same time as the “healthy exercise” component. 90% of the little girls are in the gym having ballet class from one of the 2nd grade teachers — all in leotards and tutus. Oh, that’s healthy… I blame ballet for a hell of a lot of psychological damage to girls in this country. Thus does our $300,000 Active Kids Grant go down the toilet. Why not just buy several “Dance Dance Revolution” machines and force all the kids to be in soccer games twice a week? But no… that’s not how these crappy one-time grants work.

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The talky guy behind Pelosi

So, in this video of
Pelosi’s speech, who the hell is that smirky dude behind her, the guy who keeps fidgeting and talking? You’d think someone would have taught him to behave better and show a little respect.

I mean, she just TOLD OFF THE PRESIDENT on television and some dude from her own political party can’t keep his mouth shut when he’s 2 inches from her ear? Did no one ever bust this guy for passing notes in class? I am so giving him detention for being rude. Even though I’m a chronically fidgety, interrupty, talky person, I could keep my mouth shut while on camera during someone else’s speech.

Who’s he talking to and what’s he saying? Any lip readers out there?

Or suggestions for what might be so very urgent that he needed to talk about, right then? Wait a minute, did he keep rubbing his nose?

Tweakers in the Senate… of course! That’s IT!

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Do your homework before you go vote!

Everyone go read your voter information pamphlets! Tonight! Right now! Do it. You can also go online to Smartvoter.org which has information on all the candidates and local propositions. It’s so useful!

When you can’t tell what a race is about, or what a candidate’s political philosophy is, then take a few minutes to google them and find out. I just spent a couple of hours doing this and now I feel like my vote will make more of a difference, since I made an actual decision that wasn’t random on all the confusing ballot measures and local races.

I realized during this process that a fair amount of my decisions about state propositions and local ballot measures have a flow chart like this:

– Is it something I obviously agree with, like No on Proposition 85? Certain votes are clear cut for me. No, I do not want a law that denies abortions to minors without parental notification, and I will fight tooth and nail against it.

– Is it something that raises taxes, especially income or property tax, and does something good with it? Then yes, I’ll vote for it.

– Is it a confusing as hell bond measure, where the government wants to sell bonds, a concept I barely understand? Well then. I can’t go by the surface “virtue” of the thing they say they’re going to use the money for. In this case I have to do more homework, and look at the endorsements. Endorsed by League of Women Voters? Teachers, nurses, obvious Democrats, local mayors who aren’t from Atherton or Palo Alto? Then I’ll go with their endorsement, figuring that they probably have done their homework, and I consider them the good guys, or at least the lesser evil. If it’s still not obvious, then I have to go on the web and look at the endorsing agencies. Usually from that it become obvious who are the Libertarian nutbags and Republican robber barons, and so I vote against what they endorse. I also tend to vote with organizations that are sane-sounding defenders of social justice, like California Attorneys for Criminal Justice.

I’m way left of Democrat, or way some other dimension, but I’ll still vote Democrat on nearly anything just so that Republicans won’t win.

For other races, the judicial and local stuff, I’m going and reading candidate statements on smartvoter, and on their personal campaign sites. It’s very informative. The deeper you look, the more likely you are to find the code words that indicate their political philosophies. Again, watch out for the Libertarians; they are often so entitled and clueless as to be dangerously insane, like Jack Hickey. When you figure out who those people are, you can look for them in endorsements, and vote against them… Of course it’s useful to look for SANE people too, like Redwood City Mayor Barbara Pierce, and vote for what she endorses. But voting against insane people is often easier, because they’re easy to spot.

I vote against any jerkwad who talks smack about “tough on crime” or the selfishness of youth and how poor people are dangerous and how kids who can’t pass the test in a grade level should be held back and how we pay public employees too much money. What planet are these people from? In my opinion they are from the Planet of the Total Assholes. And I make it my business to spot these fearmongers and haters, and pointedly vote against them.

In the judicial races, I noticed that some judges, frankly, almost all the women, mention equality, fairness, impartiality, not favoring rich over poor; and all the (all men!) that don’t mention that, and emphasize “enforcing the law and upholding the system”, I’m going to vote no against them, figuring that a failure to take a simple stance on “equality” is signficant.

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