What does College Ready really MEAN?

The phrase "college ready" is being bandied about in education circles ad nauseum (another thing for which we can thank Mr and Mrs Bill Gates) and after a conversation with my daughter last night I've been doing a lot of thinking about what this really means for our kids. My daughter started her senior year today, and we were having another discussion last night about what classes she was taking and for various reasons got onto the subject of Calculus vs. Statistics. She told me that the colleges she wants to go to wouldn't look at her if she doesn't take Calculus.

This is my second child, and I've sat through enough of these admissions talks now to know what college admissions officers are saying. And I have to question some of the values that I see being beaten into our kids' heads in these college admissions sessions. For example, if I have to sit in another admissions session saying that they want kids who have held leadership positions, I might well stand up and scream, "HOW THE HELL ARE ALL OF THESE KIDS SUPPOSED TO HOLD LEADERSHIP POSITIONS? THERE AREN'T ENOUGH CLUBS IN ALL THE SCHOOLS FOR EVERY SINGLE KID TO BE A LEADER?" And what message is that giving kids? That NOT being the CEO is failure? Really? There are plenty of CEOS whose tenure could be viewed as a failure (*cough* Steve Ballmer *cough*). One can be a leader in so many different ways, without holding an official title.

But it's this prescribed view of what kids need to take in order to be college ready that makes me the most crazy. I understand the focus on a rigorous curriculum. I understand that they should be challenging themselves. But calculus vs statistics? Really?

I didn't take calculus in HS or college. It's not that I'm not good with numbers. I got an A+ in Accounting in college, and in my work life created and analyzed budgets for a multimillion pound business.

Financial numbers like balance sheets and income statements make sense to me. They're like putting together pieces of a puzzle. I've told both my kids that no matter what they want to do in life, they should take a basic accounting class, because they need to be able to understand how to read financial statements.

When I got to business school, I had to take calculus as a pass/fail prerequisite. It's the only class I've almost failed in my entire life. I don't know if it was the professor or my brain, but I couldn't wrap my head around the concepts. I tried so hard to understand. I tried to do it by understanding the concepts. I tried to do it by rote memorization of formulas. I passed, but barely. It traumatized me so much that for almost a decade after I got my MBA in Finance, I would wake up in a cold sweat, having dreamed that I'd failed calculus, and I'd actually have to go down to the study and look at my framed diploma to make sure it was still there.

It traumatized me so much I was worried about taking statistics, assuming that I was total dunce. But I did fine in statistics. Statistics made total sense to me.

In my working life since taking calculus, I have never once had to use it. Not when I worked in finance, not as the financial director of a business, not in my current fields of endeavor.In my life since taking statistics, I use that knowledge all the time. Having a working knowledge of statistics enables me to understand how they are being used or misused in political discourse. I can't help wondering - why do colleges value that less than calculus for an educated person?

Again, I wonder what does "college ready" really mean? Who is defining it? And what is the end game? What kind of life is this "college readiness" making kids ready FOR?

As parents we need to ask these questions of our schools, our elected representatives, our government - and we must do it loudly. It matters, for our children, and for the future of this country.

I'm Walking for Alzheimers - in honor of Dad

I've written about my father and how painful it is losing him to Alzheimer's in previous posts here. I describe it to people has having my heart cut out with a butter knife. It's slow. It's painful.

But it's not without moments of beauty and love. My father has always been a dog person. We were rarely without a dog growing up, and although he could be very strict with us, my dad was a complete marshmallow when it came to dogs. Dogs know these things. By the time I got Benny in early 2008, Dad was already fading. But they established a very strong bond.

Fortunately, the Waveney Care Center ,where Dad lives now, is brilliant about allowing family members to bring in pets. Benny,despite having been turned down as an official therapy dog as a puppy because he couldn't maintain a sit/stay for long enough, is a regular visitor and has developed quite the fan club. What's even more amazing to me is that he's learned which residents are real dog people and makes a beeline for them as soon as we walk in the door.

But it's my father he's most excited to see. We have to go up in the elevator, and Benny knows exactly where to go:




As you can see from the pictures below, when he gets there, the love is mutual. Even if Dad is sleeping or agitated, Benny brings a smile to his face.

But Alzheimer's is a one way street, unfortunately, and Dad's condition has deteriorated since last year at this time. He is even more confused, and once when I went to visit him he'd forgotten how to pet Benny - I had to take Dad's hand and remind him how to stroke Benny's soft coat with his palm. It was heartbreaking.

And then there are what I call the tragicomic moments - the ones I am saving up for the adult novel I plan to write some day when I have some distance from all of this. Like when I went to visit Dad and I think he thought I was my mother (because I look like my mom) and told me he just wanted me to kiss him all day.

I was like, "Um, Dad, I'm your daughter. Folks tend to frown on that kind of thing."

Figuring I better get him to a more populated area, I walked him to the elevator. I'd just thrown on a sundress, and I guess it showed a little more cleavage than I usual. And we're in the elevator and I see that's where Dad is staring. And one part of my brain, the teenage part is like, "OMFG, my DAD IS STARING AT MY BOOBS!! I AM TOTALLY FREAKING OUT!!!!" and another part of my brain, the writer part, is thinking "This is going to make a hilarious scene in a book someday" and the third part of my brain, the rational part, is like, "This isn't going to end well" and sure enough, Dad lunges at me and I'm like "DAD! You can't DO THAT! I'm YOUR DAUGHTER!" at which point he looks all sheepish and gives me a cute grin and I can't be mad at him because it's Alzheimer's Dad, not Dad Dad and really, this IS going to make a great scene in my novel some day but OMG, teenage me is still freaking out because her dad just made a pass at her in the elevator.

Or the times when he gets agitated and reverts back to his time working in the intelligence service. "Did you see the men with the guns?" He'll ask me. I've learned to just meet him where he is. "I've scanned the area, Dad, and it's all secure now. But it's safe because of you. Great job of being on the look out."

I try to find the humor in it, but that's because I have to in order to stay sane. There is nothing funny about this disease. I hate it with a passion. It is evil and heartbreaking, and it has robbed me of conversations I want to have with my father, ones I kick myself for not having before.

That is why I'm once again participating in the Walk for Alzheimer's. If you are able to support our team at any level, I will be extremely grateful.

Here's where to donate: http://act.alz.org/site/TR/Walk/CT-Connecticut?px=6866996&pg=personal&fr_id=3300

The Gates Foundation - spending billions to make my creative writing students' dystopia a reality

This evening during my creative writing workshop we talked about setting and world building. I had the kids do one of my favorite brainstorming exercises for this topic: EXTRAPOLATING INTO THE FUTURE.

I ask the students to make two columns. In column one, they write a current law, issues or technology. In the second column, I ask them to extrapolate what they have written in column one, imagining it in a future society. Is it being taken to an extreme? Is it being used for good or not so good purposes?

The example I gave them is scientists currently using brain imaging for various forms of research (ie/Alzheimers, Autism, MS, etc.) What if in the future they used that technology see how a subject reacted to images of murder or other forms of crime and isolated those who reacted positively to those images because they were likely criminals?

My younger kids (rising 6-7 graders) were more lighthearted, yet I'm amazed by the cynicism and distrust of government I see in all of my students. (Heckuva job, Washington!)

One student had some wonderfully innovative ideas - I told her I want to be her business manager and pitch them to Shark Tank.

One of my guys wrote an interesting, humorous piece about how the government, in an attempt to ensure everyone's safety, created bubbles around everyone's houses for protection. But eventually the citizens started getting upset because they couldn't get out to go do things like go on vacation. The Commander in Chief was President Imafraud. Like I said, cynical!

The same kid, in his brainstorming list, wrote about the iPhone 3D. "They're coming out with the 4D with a few months but it's hard to see the difference." (LOL!)

His piece led to an interesting discussion about the impact the government's protective bubbles would have on community and citizenship. This is an example of why the setting and world building workshop is always one of the most lively and fun.

My older kids (rising 8-9 graders) are all working on dystopian novels, so this exercise was particularly useful.

What was really interesting to me as a political writer was one student's projection that schools would be abolished and kids would be educated via computer - because it sounds very much like vision promoted by the Gates Foundation.

I asked the student how he would feel if that really happened.

"I wouldn't like it," he said. "We're required to have iPads next year. I'm not happy. I like to write things down."

We had another lively discussion about a certain class all my kids had shared last year in school, in which computer instruction was used.

Verbatim comments from my students:

"Our teacher sits us in front of the computer for the entire class. He doesn't actually teach us anything."

"Half the time the keyboard doesn't work and then you can't finish the assignment."

"If you don't get it right you just have to keep on practicing until you do. It's really frustrating."

And then the student who wrote that school would be reduced to a computer said to me, "I like this kind of class, like we're having here."

Here's the thing, Mr. Gates: I am not anti-technology. I love technology. I use it every day. I couldn't even consider writing the two books I have with an October 1st deadline if it weren't for my Macbook Pro (Yeah, gave up PCs years ago) and my Scrivener.

But the difference between you and me is that I see technology as a tool - one among many that can be used to reach students.

You are spending billions of dollars to influence policy to make it THE SOLUTION, thus forcing it on my kids - because I view all of the students I work with as my kids. And that, Mr. Gates, is wrong. Maybe you should get out of your Billionaire Bubble, stop listening to the yes men and the Wall Street folks and hear from some actual young people - the ones who are being affected by your misguided policies.

Music, Memory and Alzheimers

One of the many things I love about my MidLifeCrisisMobile is Sirius Radio, because sometimes when I'm listening to Deep Tracks, Classic Vinyl or Classic Rewind, a song will come on and boom, I'm taken to another time and place. It happened yesterday when I was on the way back from visiting my dad at his assisted living facility - "Fat Man in the Bathtub" by Little Feat came on and I was suddenly back at Duke, sitting on the little balcony above the doorway at Wilson House, the one you had to climb out of the bathroom window of my suite to access, drinking beers and watching people hang out and play frisbee on the East Campus quad.



(Note, this is not a song where you have to ask for "More Cowbell". It is freaking Cowbelltastic.)


A month or so ago, I heard this song, which I had on vinyl but hadn't listened to since 1989 when I moved to England and last owned a turntable:



Even though I hadn't heard it over twenty years, I still remembered all the words. I asked my social network friends the question: Why do I remember the lyrics to a song I haven't heard in over twenty years, but I can't remember what I ate for breakfast?

I was thinking about this yesterday when I went to visit Dad. He was pretty out of it when I arrived. His circadian rhythms are reversed, so he spends a lot of the night walking the floors, and then is sleepy during the day. When Benny and I arrived for our visit, it took Benny a lot of face and hand licking to wake him up, and when he did wake up, he was very groggy. Downstairs, they were having the weekly singalong, so I encouraged Dad to get up and come for a walk with us so we could go join in. He held his head when he stood up, and because he can't articulate what he is feeling, we (his family and the staff) have to work together to figure it out from his past medical history and the clues he gives us). Are his medications affecting his blood pressure, causing him dizziness? Does he have a headache? It's like a giant guessing game, where the patient can't tell you if you have the right answer. All you can do is watch and observe and see if he looks happier and more comfortable.

We went to join the singing, and Dad sat quite happily with Benny on his lap, and was even happier after my brother John joined us.

The songs they sing are mostly from the 40's and 50's. "Smoke gets in Your Eyes." "As Time Goes Bye" "The Tennessee Waltz" "I love you truly, dear" (which always makes me verkempt, because my Grandma Mollie, Dad's mom, who also ended up with Alzheimer's, used to sing it to us).

Yesterday, I witnessed one of the ladies, who usually smiles at me but never speaks, get totally excited and talkative when her favorite song came up. She sang, loudly and not particularly tunefully, but it didn't matter. She was responding, and it was beautiful to see her face light up and to witness how it was the music that had touched some memory deep within her and turned on the switch.

I turned to my brother and asked, "What songs do you think they'll play when it's our turn?"

And I had this vision of myself, my wrinkled face lighting up, shouting "BISMILLAH, NO! WE WILL NOT LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO!!" as my middle aged children cringe. Or maybe, by then, they'll just be happy that Mom remembers, and sing along with me.

A firearm is not an appropriate gift for a five year old - EVER

There was another horrifying story of an accidental gun death today. A five year-old boy in Kentucky shot and killed his 2 year-old sister. The mother was home, but had stepped outside for a moment.

But what struck me about this story, was that this five year-old boy accidentally killed his sister with "the .22-caliber rifle he got for his birthday," according to state officials.

Say WHAT?!

The .22 was a Crickett, advertised on their website as "My First Rifle."




I'm not going to get into a discussion of 2nd Amendment Rights here. I'm not even going to get into a discussion of what constitutes sensible
gun laws. But Auntie Sarah is about to rant on the subject of age appropriate toys and parenting.

A firearm is not, in any rational world, an age appropriate gift for a FIVE YEAR OLD. EVER. I don't care if you live in the country. I don't care if you live in a "gun culture." This isn't anything about me wanting to deny you your 2nd Amendment Rights. I'm talking about using COMMON SENSE here, people. If "guns don't kill people, people kill people," why on earth would you be stupid enough to give one to a five year old? Would you let a five year old have access to bleach or paint thinner? Would you let a five year old drive your car? Would you let a five year old play with matches and fireworks? Would you give a five year old a sharp knife as a toy?

If you are a responsible parent with half a brain, the answer to all of these things would be a resounding NO. It's nothing to do with "rights". It's everything to do with being a responsible parent with a brain, who understands the socio-emotional and physical capabilities of your child at a particular age.

What "gift" have these parents given this poor kid? A lifetime of guilt, knowing that he killed his baby sister, when he was too young to even bear the responsibility for doing it. But it's not him who should bear that guilt. It's his grossly negligent parents. And it's the gun manufacturer that is sick enough to purposely market firearms to children. We don't allow tobacco companies to market cigarettes to children. Why do we allow gun manufacturers to market guns?

Dear CT State Dept of Education: "That's just disrespectful."

Yesterday, I was trying to tune out the world and get some serious writing done, when during one of my email/Twitter breaks THIS arrived in my inbox:



At which point I had a parental head explosion. I didn't even begin to talk to my 11th grader, who already has enough on her plate, about it last night. But I had to wonder what idiot with no comprehension of teenagers and their emotional lives had the GENIUS to decide that NOW would be a great time to add MORE TESTING - particularly testing thats stated aim is merely to give additional data to the district and the State Board of Education - to our teenagers lives.

For that particular rocket scientist - and Governor Dannel Malloy, and State Board of Education Commissioner Stefan Pryor, and everyone who is pushing this particular sick brand of corporate "education reform", all the way up to Arne Duncan and President Barack Obama, I'd like to give you a little insight about teenagers. I base my insights on the fact that I was a teenager, I parent two, in the course of my work as a YA author I spend a great deal of time with many others, and I happen to love this age group big time.

!. Teenagers are human beings. They are not data points. Please read this sentence over and over until you understand this concept before moving on to the next paragraph.

2. They are going through massive hormonal changes, which can be difficult to live with as a parent, but just as difficult to cope with as the teenager experiencing them, because you have these FEELINGS and they HAPPEN and you can't always control how and why.

3. Teenagers need more sleep than most age groups and get less of it, which has major implications for mood, stress, concentration, study ability.

4. Coming in between now and June, my particular 11th grader already has to take the SATS, AP exams and finals. When I finally discussed the proposed state testing with her this afternoon, she told me "that's just disrespectful." I agreed with her, 100%. She said, "It's one thing taking CAPT, when our teachers reduce our homework in our other classes. But to schedule those tests NOW?"

I'd like CT Governor Malloy, State Department of Education Commissioner Stefan Pryor, Bill McKersie, Arne Duncan, and President Obama to reread those words: "That's just disrespectful."

We adults expect respect from our teenagers. But to earn their respect, we must show them the respect they, too, deserve. Expecting them take an assessment test for data purposes when they are already facing so much pressure is not only disrespectful, it is unhealthy.

As adults, we should be modeling balance for our kids, not cruelty and insanity. The rate of suicide for the 15-24 age group has nearly tripled since 1960. Is it any wonder when the State Board of Ed treats our already stressed out teens like lab rats instead of human beings?

Last year, when the Education Reform Bill was before the CT State Legislature, I tried to get the Greenwich High School PTA to speak out against it, as PTA's in other towns were doing, because of the implications for increased testing. There was absolutely zero interest in getting involved. But lo and behold,now that the precious darlings in Greenwich are going to be affected, guess what arrived in my inbox today:



Yes, now that it's affecting OUR KIDS the Greenwich parents must have raised holy hell because that was one heck of a quick backdown by both our Greenwich Superintendent and our State BOE. You see, when parents from an extremely wealthy suburb start making a fuss, the State BOE is suddenly all ears.

But I challenge my fellow Greenwich parents - and indeed, the parents in all the other wealthy suburbs across the nation - to wake up and smell the coffee. They need to realize our reprieve was only temporary, not permanent. What the kids in Bridgeport, Windham, Hartford and New London are being forced to do this year while we got a pass, our kids are going to be doing in the years to come - while they are struggling with the same SATS, APs and finals. Oh, and maybe looking forward to going to Prom and all the other social and extra curricular activities that we want them to have as well-balanced, well-rounded kids.

There's a piece in the Atlantic, The Coming Revolution in Public Education that's a must read for every parent, grandparent and person who cares about having a healthy system of public education in this country. I also encourage you to join the Network for Public Education, and if you're in CT, like the PAA-CT Facebook page. Please join the fight now, before this insanity train moves even further down the track.

Why are all our Heroes so imperfect?* My thoughts on Lance

In the summer of 2000, we'd rented a cottage in the French village of St. Nicolas Courbefy (now famous for because the entire village was put up for sale early last year) At first the locals were standoffish. We later found out it was because they thought we were German - the occupation still loomed large in memory in this part of the Limousin - but once they realized we were English and American and spoke French we were welcomed. We went to a dance at the village hall where I was twirled energetically by elderly Frenchmen, and a couple invited us to dinner in their home.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to the Tour de France, which was passing through the region. My ex is a keen cyclist, so I'd started watching the Tour and developed appreciation and knowledge of the teams, the strategies, not to mention a bit of a crush on the British commentator, Phil Liggett.

Our French host was adamant that Lance Armstrong, who had come back from cancer the year before to win his first Tour de France title and was doing well that year, had taken some kind of miracle drug to enhance his performance. I was shocked. SHOCKED, I tell you. "The man had CANCER! He had chemotherapy...toxic chemicals pumped through his veins to kill tumors." Lance hadn't started LiveStrong yet, but I'd already drunk the Kool-Aid and leaped to his defense. To me, he was an inspiration - someone who had faced great challenges and overcome them to win.

I stopped admiring him when he dumped his wife Kristin, who had stood with him through his cancer battle and raised his kids while he trained all over Europe, for Sheryl Crow.

And now we find that my dinner host back in 2000 was right all along - that Lance was doping. We all wanted to believe, and he played us, but good.

Right now, I'm hearing Jill Sobule's Heroes on a loop in my head:

*CREDIT: "Why are all our heroes so imperfect? Why do they always bring me down?"




The answer I give myself is this: stick to everyday heroes. Make heroes out of the people you know and admire, the people who quietly, and without expectation of glory, do good for others, trying to make the world a better place.

P.S. I got to meet Phil Liggett that summer, after one of the stages of the Tour. And he kissed me. Twice. Once on each cheek. : ))).