Happy Mother’s Day to all you Moms out there!
I hope you enjoy the day and have the chance to see your child or children.
I had three sons. One died of leukemia at the age of two.
My sons are my treasure.
Though I must admit that I am sorry that I did not have a daughter.
My two sons each have two sons. They add to my treasure.
Enjoy your day!
Let’s not forget that individuals like Robert Mercer and Steven Bannon had mothers that were glass test tubes.
Happy Mother’s Day, Diane, and condolences on the loss of a 2-year-old (no statute of limitations on mourning). When it comes to a self-critical reconsideration of one’s core beliefs, you are the mother of us all.
Thank you, Bill.
Mother’s Day is a hard time when one has lost a child. From a mother who lost a daughter 20 years ago and still thinks of her every day, I send my love to you, Diane.
Have a great mother’s day, Diane.
Happy Mother’s Day to you, Diane, and to your readers. I am the proud mother of two sons and five grandchildren.
Same to YOU, Diane. Happy Mother’s Day.
And thank you.
Happy Mothers Day to you Diane. I KNOW you are a great Mom, and so great to get such a warm and empathetic post. Our Moms all deserve so many thanks and how they shape our beings.
Happy Mother’s Day to you, Diane! Thank you for all that you do for everybody’s children. ❤️
Recognition is also due to those who desired children, but, unable to have them, became mothers to entire groups. For many, Mother’s Day is a reminder of how their desires for children never came to be.
Let us celebrate, but keep our minds also on those for whom this day seems tragic.
Thank you, Diane! Happy Mother’s Day back to you! Thank you for all you do. So many of us out here in the hinterlands read you, follow you, and treasure you. You are a mom to us all!
My wife had two miscarriages. Mother’s Day is particularly sad in my home. I have five(5) nephews, all of whom are a blessing, and one grand-nephew. My sister’s children and grandchildren, are a joy unspeakable. May God give a special blessing to all mothers.
And a double-special blessing to all women who have lost their children. My wife will see her babies in heaven.
Dearest Dr. Ravitch:
Happy Mother’s Day to you.
I agree that you are truly Mother’s figure to all of people who are benefited from your advocacy for American Education in a whole child concept of age-appropriate level, whether it is public from tax payers’ fund or it is private from corporate fund.
May God always bless you with health and happiness to witness your fruitful result from your endless effort in advocacy to have the best American Public Education in the best interest for American children in K-12.
Tons of love and respect for you,
May King
Happy Mother’s Day to you Diane. You are an inspiration to me. When I took forced retirement, reading your blog made me understand what was happening in education, and I didn’t feel like a failure. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Dottie, stay strong and remember what you gave your students. They remember you. Some will never forget you.
So sorry to hear that Diane. Thank you for all you do, and please DO have a Happy Mother’s day!
Some Mother’s Day advice for the Mothers of Georgia … who are under assault from Governor Deal and his imbecilic educational policies …
I’m an old father now. Suddenly, it seems.
My sons have sons. I own lots of memories. I polish the sweet ones and never dust the ones that hurt.
I mind time now. I didn’t used to. In fact, like lots of you, I was reckless with time. Not any longer.
When I was a boy of about 9 or so, I had the temporary misfortune of being the last to the dinner table … and that meant sitting just to the left of my father. That was like sitting next to the district attorney … or the pope.
My brothers loved my dilemma … because that’s what brothers do. It’s in the Irish Manual of Life.
So … there I was … waiting for my moment of challenge.
The knives were clanging plates and there were two or three different conversations happening around this table with the fat legs. Someone mentioned that my grandfather had a birthday in a few days … and that little-bitty mention sprung my father’s mind.
“So, young Denis,” said my father, “ how long would you like to live? What is a good, long life?”
Right off the bat I’m thinking this is a trick question … because my father was never familiar with the obvious. So, there I sat … and my brothers had caught wind of my dinner-table distress … and they were loving every minute of it.
Meanwhile, my father was sipping his usual cocktail and pushing some food around his plate … which means he’s kinda waiting for an answer … to the trick question. And I don’t have much in the way of trick answers … because … I’m nine.
After several long minutes he leaned over and asked, “And?”
I went full-out bravado … more for my brothers than for any other reason. I gotta live in this family after all, right? Strong is the key. Trust me.
“Seventy. Seventy years old is a good, long life.”
I was so pleased with my answer, I smirked at every guy at the table … until I noticed that my father was completely unimpressed … still sitting there … at the head of the table … playing fork-hockey with his peas.
And me? I’m waitin’ for a sign … any sign! … that my skinny answer is sufficiently smart. I’m dreaming of the big back-slap … or even the dreaded hair-muss.
There was none.
In fact, it seemed I was completely off his radar for a long moment.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. My father didn’t do that sort of stuff. I must’ve had him confused with my best friend’s father … who was really normal.
After a few long minutes, he clasped his hands and leaned over toward me. And then the verdict.
“You’re a silly boy.”
Mind you … he said it softly. No mocking at all. Just a soft, blunt statement … designed to make me think all over again. To spin my brain-gears a bit more.
And I did.
Even my brothers were suddenly cranking their brains. I think that was part of my father’s strategy … to make the moment belong to everyone. To glue everyone into the lesson.
Then he leaned over once again … and in a loud whisper … so all could hear … he said …“If you live to be seventy … you will have lived just 840 months. Does that seem long enough for you?”
And, of course, it didn’t then … and it doesn’t now.
And I learned the lesson he intended me to learn … to be careful with numbers and to respect time. And to not waste time … or let others waste my time.
So, from this old father … to you young Georgia mothers on this Mother’s Day … mind the time.
Mind those sweet moments with your children and seldom say “Hurry up!”.
Don’t wish for anything except this moment. Leave tomorrow alone. Tend to today.
Don’t let anyone hurry your child.
Don’t let anyone sandpaper their softest years with grit or rigor … because there’s plenty of that stuff in the eight hundred months ahead.
Don’t let anyone run innocence out of your child’s life. It has its own cadence and rhythm … and it’s plenty fast enough.
Don’t let others spin those clock hands faster than they already spin.
Mind the numbers in your life as never before. Pay as much attention to the little moments as you do the big events.
Remind yourself that a five year old is sixty months on this planet. Less than 2,000 days old. They’re still brand new people! No one has the right to whisper anything about college or careers to a child determined to conquer the monkey bars. All adults should respect the Law of the Chair … if a child’s legs do not reach the floor … well … they are reality-exempt.
That eight year old … the one who sleeps in his Little League uniform? He’s a third grader. Not yet 100 months old. Let that sink in. Why is he rip-roaring mad at himself over some junk-test? That’s not the worry of an 8 year old. He should be anxious about base hits … not base line scores. His only career thought is what professional team to sign with … and that’s heavy enough.
That music-blasting “tween” is maybe 150 months old. At that age their job is to not walk into door jambs … and to try to put a lid on some hormone havoc. They’re still closer to babyhood than adulthood. Why let schools bum-rush them into anxiety-hell over tests? Mother Nature has already over-supplied them with all the anxiety they can barely handle. Why don’t we just lay off ‘em … and let ‘em outgrow this messy moment? It’s bad enough as it is … leave it be.
I’m glad my father cured me from becoming number-numb.
My hot-seat moment has served me well for … for lots of months.
Maybe this will shake up your consciousness … and slow you down some. And maybe … maybe you won’t say “Hurry up!” quite so often.
And perhaps you’ll remind that school to slow down … that there are children on board … and they are entitled to every last drop of innocence.
Don’t let them tug your child into their warped world. If they think education is all about numbers, well, they’ve already forfeited their privilege to enjoy your child. They’re just as silly as I was … but I was only about a hundred months old. What’s their excuse?
Denis Ian
Excellent essay and very critical to all of us! Thank you, Dennis.
I meant “Denis” . .
To Denis;
That is a beautiful story. I really enjoy reading it.
Your story should motivate all naive parents to be awaken and aware of education reformers’ ABUSIVE and GREEDY strategy which harm people’s children, but NOT their children. Back2basic