George Bush gave his last State of the Union address last night. I didn't watch because the man annoys me, but I must say that simply knowing it was his last address of that nature to this country as our Commander in Chief has made this a very, very good day.
By the way, for those of you die-hard Republicans who think you need to lambast me for the above paragraph, please know I am not a Democrat. I am also not a Republican. I am a free-thinking American who has been unimpressed (and yes, embarrased) with and by "W" since the day he was elected governor of Texas. The fact that he stole the office of president with a little "hanging chad" B.S. in his brother's state made my respect for the system wane. When no one bothered to campaign in Texas the last time around because the state was going for George that really pissed me off.
I'm just really, really happy that we have less than a year of that bozo left. I just hope he stays on the ranch and doesn't screw up anything else.
By the way, if you want to see who he's really working for, check out the photos you'll find on Google or Yahoo of his month. When you see him wining and dining with the Sultans in Saudi, note the happy looks on his face as compared to when he's doing his real job back here in the U.S. Filled up your tank lately? Blame George. He and his buddies are richer than ever. The rest of us are not.
And if today his "Save the economy" package passes, remember that the check you get from the government will need to be claimed on your taxes next year. There are no winners with this jerk. Except for the American people when he finally gets on that helicopter for the last time and rides off in the sunset.
Good riddance.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Change Needed
Small town Texas is alive and well in 2008, complete with every stereotype you can imagine. Some of us remain outsiders, no matter how long we've been here. I will forever be a Yankee in these parts, even though I technically left "the north" around 1980. I'm a worldly Yankee though, influenced greatly by college spent in the south, 15 years living at altitude becoming eco-savvy in the west, and nearly a decade here in Texas.
For those of you who don't know, the south is different. Everyone knows people here talk funny. It's annoying when you first arrive. Everyone sounds stupid. But it grows on you until you eventually adopt a twang yourself. In my case, I can turn it off or on depending on present company. Because most importantly, in the south, you need to blend in. They don't really like outsiders.
Above the Mason Dixon line (wherever that may be), you may be surprised to learn that "Yankee" is still a dirty word in Texas. It comes with all sorts of connotations, like "Cold Fish," "Direct," "Know it All," even in some cases "Evil." One only needs to say, in reference to someone being talked about in some negative connotation, "He's a Yankee," and everyone in the room will nod and say things like "Oh..." or "Hmmmm..." or "That figures."
Because I use my twang when appropriate, and because I've been around a while, not everyone in town knows I'm a Yankee. But I was born in Milwaukee and raised in Indiana and Iowa, by third or fourth generation Yankees. In fact my family has been Yankee since the American Revolution.
At the risk of sounding like a Yankee. In this part of the country, more than anywhere I have ever been, they seem to celebrate and even reward ignorance, at least among elected officials. These folks put a bubble over the town and pretend the outside world does not exist. Life here is "better" than anywhere. We pray in school and before county government meetings. We teach abstinence -- not birth control - to kids and shrug our shoulders over our outrageous teen pregnancy rate. Because life is good here. It's the south.
Now everyone knows you can't talk politics or religion and avoid conflict. In our town, religion is discussed, faith is proclaimed, and as long as you go to church you're okay. Politics is another story.
The other day I heard something really amazing. An elected official in our town was discussing the recent resignation of a school board official who had moved out of the area. Discussion ensued about the fact that with this board member's resignation, another seat had opened up, meaning three seats were up for grabs on a seven seat board for the May election.
The resigning board member was the token female, the only female ever elected to the local school board. I consider her a friend, although mostly by association. Actually our kids are friends. I do know she is the smartest person on the board, by miles. Why she stuck it out the seven years she did is beyond me, but I guarantee you she didn't cry when she resigned.
Anyway, this particular elected official said, "With XX gone, we could use another lady on the board." "You could use three, maybe five," I proclaimed quickly. My friends all laughed. He suddenly looked scared. He even went white, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. Oh my gosh! What if there were three women on the board? Could that happen? What would that be like? Oh my gosh! We're not ready for that "down here."
I honestly think this guy thought he was being really hip and open-minded by suggesting in a room full of women that we might want to replace "the gal" on the board with "another gal." What a progressive southern gentleman! Even though he surely didn't REALLY mean it.
Now I would never run for office because I have a personal fear of spontaneous combustion and truly believe the insanity of bureaucracy would ignite me and I'd be gone. I love education, but I hate ignorance. Here -- and in far too many government schools -- the two go hand in hand.
I am on a mission though. I need to find and encourage a couple big minds to throw their hats in for a seat on our little school board. I don't have any problems with the incumbents, but there is an open seat and we need some smart people who have been more than an hour's drive away from here to offer fresh perspective. We need people who will attack our problems with clinical precision. Traditions be damned. We need someone who won't soft-pedal or "yes man." We need progressive minds that think globally and act locally. No softies. No more mamby pamby, stuck in the 50s good old boys.
I don't care what gender these minds are. I do think it could be good though if they'd spent just a little time up north.
For those of you who don't know, the south is different. Everyone knows people here talk funny. It's annoying when you first arrive. Everyone sounds stupid. But it grows on you until you eventually adopt a twang yourself. In my case, I can turn it off or on depending on present company. Because most importantly, in the south, you need to blend in. They don't really like outsiders.
Above the Mason Dixon line (wherever that may be), you may be surprised to learn that "Yankee" is still a dirty word in Texas. It comes with all sorts of connotations, like "Cold Fish," "Direct," "Know it All," even in some cases "Evil." One only needs to say, in reference to someone being talked about in some negative connotation, "He's a Yankee," and everyone in the room will nod and say things like "Oh..." or "Hmmmm..." or "That figures."
Because I use my twang when appropriate, and because I've been around a while, not everyone in town knows I'm a Yankee. But I was born in Milwaukee and raised in Indiana and Iowa, by third or fourth generation Yankees. In fact my family has been Yankee since the American Revolution.
At the risk of sounding like a Yankee. In this part of the country, more than anywhere I have ever been, they seem to celebrate and even reward ignorance, at least among elected officials. These folks put a bubble over the town and pretend the outside world does not exist. Life here is "better" than anywhere. We pray in school and before county government meetings. We teach abstinence -- not birth control - to kids and shrug our shoulders over our outrageous teen pregnancy rate. Because life is good here. It's the south.
Now everyone knows you can't talk politics or religion and avoid conflict. In our town, religion is discussed, faith is proclaimed, and as long as you go to church you're okay. Politics is another story.
The other day I heard something really amazing. An elected official in our town was discussing the recent resignation of a school board official who had moved out of the area. Discussion ensued about the fact that with this board member's resignation, another seat had opened up, meaning three seats were up for grabs on a seven seat board for the May election.
The resigning board member was the token female, the only female ever elected to the local school board. I consider her a friend, although mostly by association. Actually our kids are friends. I do know she is the smartest person on the board, by miles. Why she stuck it out the seven years she did is beyond me, but I guarantee you she didn't cry when she resigned.
Anyway, this particular elected official said, "With XX gone, we could use another lady on the board." "You could use three, maybe five," I proclaimed quickly. My friends all laughed. He suddenly looked scared. He even went white, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. Oh my gosh! What if there were three women on the board? Could that happen? What would that be like? Oh my gosh! We're not ready for that "down here."
I honestly think this guy thought he was being really hip and open-minded by suggesting in a room full of women that we might want to replace "the gal" on the board with "another gal." What a progressive southern gentleman! Even though he surely didn't REALLY mean it.
Now I would never run for office because I have a personal fear of spontaneous combustion and truly believe the insanity of bureaucracy would ignite me and I'd be gone. I love education, but I hate ignorance. Here -- and in far too many government schools -- the two go hand in hand.
I am on a mission though. I need to find and encourage a couple big minds to throw their hats in for a seat on our little school board. I don't have any problems with the incumbents, but there is an open seat and we need some smart people who have been more than an hour's drive away from here to offer fresh perspective. We need people who will attack our problems with clinical precision. Traditions be damned. We need someone who won't soft-pedal or "yes man." We need progressive minds that think globally and act locally. No softies. No more mamby pamby, stuck in the 50s good old boys.
I don't care what gender these minds are. I do think it could be good though if they'd spent just a little time up north.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Saving the Earth
Today is a red letter day in my book, because yesterday I got my new driver's license. Now that I am officially a Kaufman County resident, I can use the county's recycling center. I cannot tell you how excited I am.
Before I moved to Texas, recycling was sort of my hobby. My garage in Boulder was full of bins of different sizes and shapes. Every day I sorted junk mail, newspapers, milk cartons, cardboard boxes, cans and glass into the various bins, and every Saturday the whole family went to Eco-Cycle to further sort our trash for recycling. It was a family event.
The boys remember how much they enjoyed taking the bins of different types to the correct dumpsters. They remember how they used to throw the beer bottles into the glass bin, and how it was okay if they broke. That was fun.
I doubt I'll get the kids too excited about going with me to the local recycling center, although from what I can see from the road, it looks about the same as the one in Boulder.
But I will go. I can't wait to take the 24 plus soda cans and the four or five gallon jugs and the occasional wine bottle or beer cans to recycling. It took me a long time to get used to throwing those things away, but where we used to live here at the lake, we didn't have any other option.
Now we are back to saving the earth. It's a good feeling. This weekend I'll get my bins all organized and begin the process. Re-training the kids to save rather than discard their trash will take a little time, but not much. I know they appreciate the point.
After all, as Jerry Garcia once sang, "We don't own this world like we act as if we did, it belongs to the children of our children's kids."
It's good to keep that in mind. I'm so glad I can get back to doing the right thing.
Before I moved to Texas, recycling was sort of my hobby. My garage in Boulder was full of bins of different sizes and shapes. Every day I sorted junk mail, newspapers, milk cartons, cardboard boxes, cans and glass into the various bins, and every Saturday the whole family went to Eco-Cycle to further sort our trash for recycling. It was a family event.
The boys remember how much they enjoyed taking the bins of different types to the correct dumpsters. They remember how they used to throw the beer bottles into the glass bin, and how it was okay if they broke. That was fun.
I doubt I'll get the kids too excited about going with me to the local recycling center, although from what I can see from the road, it looks about the same as the one in Boulder.
But I will go. I can't wait to take the 24 plus soda cans and the four or five gallon jugs and the occasional wine bottle or beer cans to recycling. It took me a long time to get used to throwing those things away, but where we used to live here at the lake, we didn't have any other option.
Now we are back to saving the earth. It's a good feeling. This weekend I'll get my bins all organized and begin the process. Re-training the kids to save rather than discard their trash will take a little time, but not much. I know they appreciate the point.
After all, as Jerry Garcia once sang, "We don't own this world like we act as if we did, it belongs to the children of our children's kids."
It's good to keep that in mind. I'm so glad I can get back to doing the right thing.
Monday, January 14, 2008
My new alarm clock
A few months ago I was doing my typical Monday morning thing, which is avoiding work. Now before potential clients get turned off, let me explain that a few years ago when I started working for myself I decided that the purpose of being self-employed was to eliminate the down side of work. Since most employed individuals will agree that Monday mornings are a big hairy drag, I hope you'll respect my decision to eliminate them from my work week. I've replaced them with Monday evenings, which used to be laundry night. I didn't like laundry night either, so instead of doing laundry on Monday nights, I work. If you need to know when I get my laundry done, I'll tell you when I figure that one out... Anyway...
While sitting at the coffee shop on a Monday morning enjoying conversation, a woman got up and announced she had to go. "I'm doing the substitute teacher training," she said. "Oh, I've always wanted to do that," I said, which was only a half truth. It is true that I had thought about getting myself on the substitute list, but I had usually replaced that thought with a reality check reminding me that I make pretty good money as a writer and would have trouble dealing with clients if I was locked up in a school all day. Anyway, I'd never actually put "Become a substitute teacher" on my to do list, but on this particular Monday I decided, "Why not?"
"Come along," my new friend said. It's just over at the school administration building (two minutes away) and it takes just an hour or so." "Sure," I had replied, and off we went, lattes in hand.
So I went to substitute teacher training, got trained, and even followed up by delivering a copy of my graduate school transcripts, social security card, and driver's license proudly to the school office. I received word that I passed my background check and was an official substitute. I used my training to go online and sign up for the automated system that would allow me to pick and choose among the plum assignments at any of the local schools of my choosing, whenever I had a free day or otherwise wanted to help young minds blossom, I could teach. Awesome!
"This is so cool," I thought, imagining the thrill on my 13-year-old's face when he saw Mommy subbing in his math class. I couldn't wait for the first call, the first assignment, the first rush of exhilaration I'd get from actually teaching young minds something new. I was going to make a difference, not just write some ad drivel.
My bubble began to burst immediately upon announcing my new status to my kids. "Just don't come to my school" my 7th grader said. "Don't you think I'd be a good teacher?" I asked, reminding the boys how I'd taught them how to use computers and make pretty posters for class projects.
"Substitutes don't teach, Mom," my older son informed me. "When we have a sub, we usually either review something or mess around." "Well, you won't mess around when I'm your sub," I informed the sophomore sternly. "Just don't come to my school, Mom," he warned.
Okay, no problem, I would limit myself to teaching assignments at the elementary level so as to avoid embarrassing encounters with my teens. I also decided to list myself as available to teach in the alternative school. Problem kids have always been a pet project of mine. After all, I was sort of one myself. I figured I'd be the best thing that ever happened to those kids who hate school enough to get kicked out and sentenced to alternative school.
So after a few weeks of never getting a call to sub, I went online to see what was going on. There I discovered that I had not checked the box that said, "Call me!" So I enthusiastically checked "Call me any day," and logged out, hoping that the next day my first assignment would come and I'd begin nurturing young minds.
Promptly at 6:15 the next morning, my phone rang. "One day assignment" the voice said. "Not a good day," I replied, so I opted out. The next day at 6:15, the phone rang again, "Special ed at the middle school," Not my cup of tea. The third day...kindergarten at Lakeview...what do they think I am, crazy? The next day, "one week assignment at the alternative school," I'm a little busy to take that on...and so on, and so on...so that now we're into the second semester and I still haven't taught.
But I have come to rely on the phone to wake me up. It's interesting to note that there are more needs for substitutes on Mondays and Fridays. I wonder why? It's also interesting to note that there were a lot of assignments the day after Halloween (veteran teachers do not want to deal with sugar crashes), and no assignments during test weeks. It has me wondering whether or not these teachers are REALLY sick.
Anyway, the chances of me subbing seem to be getting thinner and thinner. Eventually the machine will probably quit calling me. I also got notice that the state legislature now requires uncertified teachers to get fingerprinted. That's way too big brother for me. I think I'll pass.
So let's just let it suffice that until the system kicks me out, I'm using it as my personal wake up call. It's much more personal than an alarm buzzer and far more effective than the radio. I like to know that I'm at least wanted in our nation's public schools, although it is a little scary that with absolutely no experience and an hour of training I am qualified.
While sitting at the coffee shop on a Monday morning enjoying conversation, a woman got up and announced she had to go. "I'm doing the substitute teacher training," she said. "Oh, I've always wanted to do that," I said, which was only a half truth. It is true that I had thought about getting myself on the substitute list, but I had usually replaced that thought with a reality check reminding me that I make pretty good money as a writer and would have trouble dealing with clients if I was locked up in a school all day. Anyway, I'd never actually put "Become a substitute teacher" on my to do list, but on this particular Monday I decided, "Why not?"
"Come along," my new friend said. It's just over at the school administration building (two minutes away) and it takes just an hour or so." "Sure," I had replied, and off we went, lattes in hand.
So I went to substitute teacher training, got trained, and even followed up by delivering a copy of my graduate school transcripts, social security card, and driver's license proudly to the school office. I received word that I passed my background check and was an official substitute. I used my training to go online and sign up for the automated system that would allow me to pick and choose among the plum assignments at any of the local schools of my choosing, whenever I had a free day or otherwise wanted to help young minds blossom, I could teach. Awesome!
"This is so cool," I thought, imagining the thrill on my 13-year-old's face when he saw Mommy subbing in his math class. I couldn't wait for the first call, the first assignment, the first rush of exhilaration I'd get from actually teaching young minds something new. I was going to make a difference, not just write some ad drivel.
My bubble began to burst immediately upon announcing my new status to my kids. "Just don't come to my school" my 7th grader said. "Don't you think I'd be a good teacher?" I asked, reminding the boys how I'd taught them how to use computers and make pretty posters for class projects.
"Substitutes don't teach, Mom," my older son informed me. "When we have a sub, we usually either review something or mess around." "Well, you won't mess around when I'm your sub," I informed the sophomore sternly. "Just don't come to my school, Mom," he warned.
Okay, no problem, I would limit myself to teaching assignments at the elementary level so as to avoid embarrassing encounters with my teens. I also decided to list myself as available to teach in the alternative school. Problem kids have always been a pet project of mine. After all, I was sort of one myself. I figured I'd be the best thing that ever happened to those kids who hate school enough to get kicked out and sentenced to alternative school.
So after a few weeks of never getting a call to sub, I went online to see what was going on. There I discovered that I had not checked the box that said, "Call me!" So I enthusiastically checked "Call me any day," and logged out, hoping that the next day my first assignment would come and I'd begin nurturing young minds.
Promptly at 6:15 the next morning, my phone rang. "One day assignment" the voice said. "Not a good day," I replied, so I opted out. The next day at 6:15, the phone rang again, "Special ed at the middle school," Not my cup of tea. The third day...kindergarten at Lakeview...what do they think I am, crazy? The next day, "one week assignment at the alternative school," I'm a little busy to take that on...and so on, and so on...so that now we're into the second semester and I still haven't taught.
But I have come to rely on the phone to wake me up. It's interesting to note that there are more needs for substitutes on Mondays and Fridays. I wonder why? It's also interesting to note that there were a lot of assignments the day after Halloween (veteran teachers do not want to deal with sugar crashes), and no assignments during test weeks. It has me wondering whether or not these teachers are REALLY sick.
Anyway, the chances of me subbing seem to be getting thinner and thinner. Eventually the machine will probably quit calling me. I also got notice that the state legislature now requires uncertified teachers to get fingerprinted. That's way too big brother for me. I think I'll pass.
So let's just let it suffice that until the system kicks me out, I'm using it as my personal wake up call. It's much more personal than an alarm buzzer and far more effective than the radio. I like to know that I'm at least wanted in our nation's public schools, although it is a little scary that with absolutely no experience and an hour of training I am qualified.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Today's Post
I felt the urge to post something today, but I wasn't exactly sure what it should be. The weather has been so nice that I'm not feeling any angst, and my best writing is typically when I'm a little upset about something.
But I said a little prayer, and asked God what I should write about today. Here's what came to me:
"Just tell everybody to be happy."
I guess that means enjoy your day! Now back to work!
But I said a little prayer, and asked God what I should write about today. Here's what came to me:
"Just tell everybody to be happy."
I guess that means enjoy your day! Now back to work!
Monday, January 7, 2008
Democracy Run Amok
Today my kids went back to school. They got quite a long holiday break. I don't mind having them around. I don't mind having their friends around. In fact, they all come in quite handy when something needs to be lifted or moved or when groceries need to be brought in. At 13 and 15, they pretty much leave me alone unless they are hungry or need cash. Since both those things are frequent, it was definitely time for them to go back to school.
Around 9 a.m. I missed a call from the school. I found the message an hour later. The voicemail said it was the vice principal, and he was calling about my son's hair.
I can't even go into the number of times over my kids' school careers that I've had to deal with the hair issue. At least once a year for about eight years, per kid. It hurts me to count. Haircut Nazis. That's what we parents in town call them.
My son's hair needed to be cut, there was no question about that. It was down over the ears and a little shaggy on the sides, and it was over his brows at the top. But it had a long way to go to get to his collar, and he has nice hair. As one storeowner told me, "He looks like every kid in the ads or on TV." An All American Kid.
But government schools today forced this boy to sit in a room and not in his classrooms because his hair was too long. He did not give a presentation he worked on over the break for his Honors History Class because he was in lock-down, ISS, detention. Something called "pass????" Whatever it is it means he missed four periods before I could get him sprung.
My kids have never been in trouble -- knock proverbial wood. Their school records from a discipline standpoint are flawless. They've made the honor roll more than not. They are good kids. They just like to wear their hair long, which I might add is not long. It's never caused me as a parent a problem. In other parts of the world (outside this little forgotten "paradise"), kids are not wearing their hair like ROTC wannabes. (They also don't tuck their jeans into their boots or say things like 'fixin,' but that's for another post...)
But a rule is a rule, and we knew he needed a haircut and had even planned to get one tonight. We discussed it at breakfast. Then the school intervened. No warning. No, get a haircut tonight. It was, "You can't go to class today. Report to that room, and sit down." Your hair is too long, therefore you don't get a chance to learn. He was lucky he had a book.
Anyway, after leaving a voice message and not feeling satisfied that my kid was in class (on a Pass) I called a second time and got through. I explained to the vice principal, "He needs to be in class. I can't pick him up right now. I am at work and have to make a living." Which is true, and I had deadlines, conference calls, meetings. I did not have time for a haircut on a Monday morning, not to mention most reputable salons are closed that day anyway.
I told the vice principal, "I realize you are doing your job, and I will be happy to take him for a haircut after school. But he does not need to be missing his classes. " With a promise (I found out later he took his sweet time) to get my son back in class, I began quizzing the man about the problems that long hair causes. He assured me it was a lot of problems, so I dwelled deeper. What sort of problems? "A lot of kids don't comply." Oh, and how does that cause problems? "They don't comply." But is it a problem? "It takes a lot of time." So it's a problem for you, "Absolutely." But are these kids causing problems because of their hair. "Yes it takes up a lot of my time."
Anyway, to make a long story short, I need to do something about the fact that the top administrators (at least in my experience at Lakeview -not so much - Mabank Middle -way too much- and Mabank High all are required to spend a "considerable amount of their time" policing and enforcing the haircut policy -- a policy, I might add, that applies only to boys. Girls can have hair more than halfway over their ear and hanging in their eyes if style warrants.
The vice principal couldn't tell me what problem the longer hair caused at school. No disruptions? "No." Is it harder for the kids to learn? "No." Does it consume a lot of your time and energy? "Yes." Could it be your fashion guidelines are outdated? "That's not for me to decide." That's right.
Elected officials -- some who have been on the board for decades -- are deciding that kids like mine who really need to be in class paying attention to bring that B up to an A, sit in a room and don't go to class because their hair is too long. Appointed (self-appointed practically in our case) superintendants dictate the policy, which is more like a pet peeve, and highly educated administrators WASTE their lives and BELITTLE THEIR CAREERS worrying about whose hair is too long.
If it wasn't so absurd, I'd laugh. Instead, I have to realize this has been going on in Mabank for a long time. It makes no sense. And if something this simple is so ridiculous, how are these yes-men and woman policing our millions of dollars on truly important things? You have to wonder. I'll keep you posted. All suggestions are welcome.
Around 9 a.m. I missed a call from the school. I found the message an hour later. The voicemail said it was the vice principal, and he was calling about my son's hair.
I can't even go into the number of times over my kids' school careers that I've had to deal with the hair issue. At least once a year for about eight years, per kid. It hurts me to count. Haircut Nazis. That's what we parents in town call them.
My son's hair needed to be cut, there was no question about that. It was down over the ears and a little shaggy on the sides, and it was over his brows at the top. But it had a long way to go to get to his collar, and he has nice hair. As one storeowner told me, "He looks like every kid in the ads or on TV." An All American Kid.
But government schools today forced this boy to sit in a room and not in his classrooms because his hair was too long. He did not give a presentation he worked on over the break for his Honors History Class because he was in lock-down, ISS, detention. Something called "pass????" Whatever it is it means he missed four periods before I could get him sprung.
My kids have never been in trouble -- knock proverbial wood. Their school records from a discipline standpoint are flawless. They've made the honor roll more than not. They are good kids. They just like to wear their hair long, which I might add is not long. It's never caused me as a parent a problem. In other parts of the world (outside this little forgotten "paradise"), kids are not wearing their hair like ROTC wannabes. (They also don't tuck their jeans into their boots or say things like 'fixin,' but that's for another post...)
But a rule is a rule, and we knew he needed a haircut and had even planned to get one tonight. We discussed it at breakfast. Then the school intervened. No warning. No, get a haircut tonight. It was, "You can't go to class today. Report to that room, and sit down." Your hair is too long, therefore you don't get a chance to learn. He was lucky he had a book.
Anyway, after leaving a voice message and not feeling satisfied that my kid was in class (on a Pass) I called a second time and got through. I explained to the vice principal, "He needs to be in class. I can't pick him up right now. I am at work and have to make a living." Which is true, and I had deadlines, conference calls, meetings. I did not have time for a haircut on a Monday morning, not to mention most reputable salons are closed that day anyway.
I told the vice principal, "I realize you are doing your job, and I will be happy to take him for a haircut after school. But he does not need to be missing his classes. " With a promise (I found out later he took his sweet time) to get my son back in class, I began quizzing the man about the problems that long hair causes. He assured me it was a lot of problems, so I dwelled deeper. What sort of problems? "A lot of kids don't comply." Oh, and how does that cause problems? "They don't comply." But is it a problem? "It takes a lot of time." So it's a problem for you, "Absolutely." But are these kids causing problems because of their hair. "Yes it takes up a lot of my time."
Anyway, to make a long story short, I need to do something about the fact that the top administrators (at least in my experience at Lakeview -not so much - Mabank Middle -way too much- and Mabank High all are required to spend a "considerable amount of their time" policing and enforcing the haircut policy -- a policy, I might add, that applies only to boys. Girls can have hair more than halfway over their ear and hanging in their eyes if style warrants.
The vice principal couldn't tell me what problem the longer hair caused at school. No disruptions? "No." Is it harder for the kids to learn? "No." Does it consume a lot of your time and energy? "Yes." Could it be your fashion guidelines are outdated? "That's not for me to decide." That's right.
Elected officials -- some who have been on the board for decades -- are deciding that kids like mine who really need to be in class paying attention to bring that B up to an A, sit in a room and don't go to class because their hair is too long. Appointed (self-appointed practically in our case) superintendants dictate the policy, which is more like a pet peeve, and highly educated administrators WASTE their lives and BELITTLE THEIR CAREERS worrying about whose hair is too long.
If it wasn't so absurd, I'd laugh. Instead, I have to realize this has been going on in Mabank for a long time. It makes no sense. And if something this simple is so ridiculous, how are these yes-men and woman policing our millions of dollars on truly important things? You have to wonder. I'll keep you posted. All suggestions are welcome.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Resolved: Get Back to Work
With the holidays behind us I couldn't wait to get back to work. In fact, just after 6 a.m. this morning I was up and at it. I'm approaching my job with greater zeal this year, and so far, so good.
Yes, my new year's resolution is to crank up my workload and get successful PR and marketing results for even more people. With several new business proposals out and some good solid clients continuing with me from last year, I'm ready to rock and roll.
If you're in the same boat, here are a few ideas that I'm incorporating into my new routine. Hopefully these will be helpful to you, as well.
1. Get up 30 minutes earlier. People who know me know I'm no slouch. I'm usually up by 6 a.m. and in the office with a fresh cup of coffee 30 minutes later. (I work from home, so this is no great feat.) My early start gives me a headstart on making my to-do list, scratching things off my white board, checking for new jobs on e-mail, and filing away the "done" items completed the previous day. In 2008, I'm setting my alarm 30 minutes earlier. That should result in 2.5 hours of additional work each day.
2. Start the day with a prayer. I'm no religious fanatic, but I've learned that my best plans can go completely awry if it's not what God has planned for me that day. So to make sure I'm on the right path, I'm going to start my work day with some reading of "the good book" and a short chat with God. I highly recommend this exercise.
3. No more daily stops at the coffee shop. Readers of my blog and all of my friends know that I love my coffee shop. Normally, it's part of my daily routine. After I drop the kids at school I usually swing into The Hydrangea House for a cup of coffee and the day's gossip. Sometimes this leads to a little pro bono work for other townspeople, but for the most part, it's just some selfish "me time." By cutting back to two days instead of five I figure I'll be back in the office sooner after the school run and should manage to add another couple hours to my work week (and save a few bucks too).
4. Lunch time work-outs. I gave up my pilates class when I moved last fall, and my abs have really missed it. I herby resolve to work out at least three times a week over the lunch hour. To facilitate this effort, I got a new work-out tape and a bicycle for Christmas. After trying my new bike on Sunday, I went back to the store and got a new, soft bike seat. A noon-time work-out should refresh and re-energize me so that the second half of my day can be just as productive as the first. It also should help me lose that extra 20 pounds that have crept up on me the last year or so. Ug.
5. Touch it, deal with it. I once read that we all waste a lot of time shuffling papers. I hereby resolve that if I touch a piece of paper in my office or open an e-mail, I'm going to deal with it -- right then and there. (Even if "dealing with it" means opening a job sheet and putting it in the "to do" pile.
6. Stay on task. When you're as busy as I try to be and "suffer" from a mild case of ADD like I do, it can be difficult to stay on task. I resolve not to get sidetracked by things that are not billable. (Okay, I'll admit this will be the hardest thing for me to do. I've already spent some time today balancing my checkbook, and changing the address on my drivers license and voter registration on line. I've also been writing this post for about 20 minutes...)
If I can follow these simple rules, I figure I can get an extra five hours of work done each week, which could add up to literally thousands of additional dollars this year. It's a good goal, and I'll need help sticking to these rules, but I know I can do it.
You can too. Here's wishing all of us the best, most profitable year ever! Now GET BACK TO WORK!!!
Yes, my new year's resolution is to crank up my workload and get successful PR and marketing results for even more people. With several new business proposals out and some good solid clients continuing with me from last year, I'm ready to rock and roll.
If you're in the same boat, here are a few ideas that I'm incorporating into my new routine. Hopefully these will be helpful to you, as well.
1. Get up 30 minutes earlier. People who know me know I'm no slouch. I'm usually up by 6 a.m. and in the office with a fresh cup of coffee 30 minutes later. (I work from home, so this is no great feat.) My early start gives me a headstart on making my to-do list, scratching things off my white board, checking for new jobs on e-mail, and filing away the "done" items completed the previous day. In 2008, I'm setting my alarm 30 minutes earlier. That should result in 2.5 hours of additional work each day.
2. Start the day with a prayer. I'm no religious fanatic, but I've learned that my best plans can go completely awry if it's not what God has planned for me that day. So to make sure I'm on the right path, I'm going to start my work day with some reading of "the good book" and a short chat with God. I highly recommend this exercise.
3. No more daily stops at the coffee shop. Readers of my blog and all of my friends know that I love my coffee shop. Normally, it's part of my daily routine. After I drop the kids at school I usually swing into The Hydrangea House for a cup of coffee and the day's gossip. Sometimes this leads to a little pro bono work for other townspeople, but for the most part, it's just some selfish "me time." By cutting back to two days instead of five I figure I'll be back in the office sooner after the school run and should manage to add another couple hours to my work week (and save a few bucks too).
4. Lunch time work-outs. I gave up my pilates class when I moved last fall, and my abs have really missed it. I herby resolve to work out at least three times a week over the lunch hour. To facilitate this effort, I got a new work-out tape and a bicycle for Christmas. After trying my new bike on Sunday, I went back to the store and got a new, soft bike seat. A noon-time work-out should refresh and re-energize me so that the second half of my day can be just as productive as the first. It also should help me lose that extra 20 pounds that have crept up on me the last year or so. Ug.
5. Touch it, deal with it. I once read that we all waste a lot of time shuffling papers. I hereby resolve that if I touch a piece of paper in my office or open an e-mail, I'm going to deal with it -- right then and there. (Even if "dealing with it" means opening a job sheet and putting it in the "to do" pile.
6. Stay on task. When you're as busy as I try to be and "suffer" from a mild case of ADD like I do, it can be difficult to stay on task. I resolve not to get sidetracked by things that are not billable. (Okay, I'll admit this will be the hardest thing for me to do. I've already spent some time today balancing my checkbook, and changing the address on my drivers license and voter registration on line. I've also been writing this post for about 20 minutes...)
If I can follow these simple rules, I figure I can get an extra five hours of work done each week, which could add up to literally thousands of additional dollars this year. It's a good goal, and I'll need help sticking to these rules, but I know I can do it.
You can too. Here's wishing all of us the best, most profitable year ever! Now GET BACK TO WORK!!!
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