Archives for category: Personal

I mentioned in a post this morning that I had received a letter form the Anti-Defamation League warning that comments on my blog displayed “insensitivity” and that I should take this opportunity to warn readers about the dangers of “hurtful analogies,” especially in referring to Hitler and the Holocaust.

A reader wonders if he was the one who wrote the comment that was reported as offensive to the Anti-Defamation League:

I think that the comment referred to was mine. I am a teacher in one of the 24 “closed” NYC schools. I went back to look for what I actually wrote but could not find it but I definitely remember reading the comments after that post and being surprised at the reaction.First, let me say that I am also Jewish. Whichever members of my family remained in Poland at the start of the war, were totally wiped out in the camps. I am also a history buff, I read and make analogies. (Obviously, I am a product of a great public education, Thomas Jefferson HS, Brooklyn, NY.) If I offended anyone by my comparisons I am sorry, but I do not withdraw my statements. Let me instead, back them up.

I typically refer to the Holocaust and our situation in 2 ways and I don’t remember which I used in that previous post. First, I believe that our mayor, his flunkies, and all those trying to tear down public education are using what my World History text back in 1962, called the “Big Lie” technique. Tell a lie often enough and boldly enough and even those who know it is a lie will back down. Hitler and Stalin were both masters of the “Big Lie” and used it to secure and maintain their power. The “Big Lie” technique includes scapegoating. Again, as a Jew I am particularly sensitive about scapegoating but now, as a teacher being scapegoated, I think I have have an even better understanding of what my Jewish/Polish/Austrian family and their friends felt as they heard Hitler rant about how the Jews were responsible for every bad thing in post WW I Germany. Yes, I know that there are (currently) no camps to be transported to, but the lie still hurts every time I hear it.

This leads into the second way I draw analogies to the Holocaust. As I said above, my family split just about the time of WW I. One branch came to America, the other branch stayed in Poland and Austria and were decimated. My grandma spoke German as well as Yiddish and English. Even after the holocaust, she proudly referred to our family as Austrian. From her, from other friends and family and from my reading I have learned that most German and Austrian Jews thought of themselves as Germans. Even as the Nuremberg laws went into effect, even as Kristal Nacht destroyed their businesses and homes, they told themselves that they were good Germans, important to the Reich and the minority of hotheads will eventually see this and respect them for the contributions that they made to their country. Many Jews continued this denial until they were packed off to the camps.

A few days before the end of this school year, as we were sitting in the heat grading the Regents exams, my colleagues and I were being told our fate by those involved in this ridiculous hiring system. I know that the ones not hired are not going to camps but the damage to their spirits was still substantial. These are people who have been teaching for 10 even 15 years. One of the main centerpieces of their identity is teacher, right up there with mother, father, Jew, Christian or other identity labels. This central part of their identity was ripped out unjustly and with violence. Not the violence of guns but more like the violence of the Judensau when Jews were forced to bend down and kiss the statue of a pig for only one purpose . . . public humiliation. Teachers were being divided into 2 lines. The “effective” teachers who were staying and the “ineffective” teachers with astonishment and tears in their eyes who could not understand this injustice that had been done to them. As my friends and colleagues were told their fate my thoughts went back to the words of Victor Frankl, a survivor of the camps who said, “the best of us did not survive.”

No, I don’t expect the Brown Shirts to be knocking on my door tonight. In fact, as much as I think teachers are being falsely scapegoated and blamed for things beyond our control, I think the real holocaust (note the lower case) is being carried out against the children of NYC. Under performing students need smaller classes which means more teachers. They also need more experienced teachers. Privatizing education siphons off money that should be going to the children and sends it to overpaid CEOs and shareholders of these charter businesses. Thomas Jefferson saw public education as necessary to maintain a democracy. Wouldn’t it be terrible if after true public education is gone we discover that Jefferson was right.

I could go on about the economics of fascism as taught to me by Mr. Kraft in the 5th grade, Mr. Hudesman in the 7th grade and Mr. Horowitz in the 10th grade (great teachers among other great teachers who I remember fondly) how we can draw parallels to big business today, but this is already a very long post so I shall stop now.

 

A few days ago, I received an email from the Anti-Defamation League of New York City saying that it had received “several complaints regarding references and analogies to Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust that appear in the comments section of your blog.”

It went on:

In researching the complaint, we see that  you defended the postings on free speech grounds. As a staunch supporter of free speech and the First Amendment, ADL has historically fought hate and offensive comments not by censoring, but by fighting bad speech with good speech. While you certainly have the right to leave the material up, we believe you have an opportunity here to address the insensitivity of the comments with your respected voice, rather than allowing them to go unaddressed.”

“We urge you to use your speech–as an educator and blog moderator–to address the hurtful analogies, and encourage readers to think about the impact of their words.”

(signed)

I was surprised when I read this as I am very sensitive to hate speech. In addition, I am Jewish. Members of my mother’s family were annihilated in the death camps in Hitler’s time. None survived.

I couldn’t think of what he was referring to. Last Sunday, when I first saw the email, I responded and asked if he might point me to specific examples, but I have heard nothing more.

Using the search function, I scanned the comments, and the only exchange that I could find was in the discussion following a post called “For the Children?”

When someone complained in that exchange about a reference to Nazis, I replied:

“Commenters exercise freedom of speech.
So do I.
So do you.”

I will not tolerate hate speech on the blog. I have the power to delete comments. I have deleted comments that I thought were beyond the bounds of civility. And I am not going to spell out the rules beyond that, because this is my blog and I will delete whatever offends me.

But having said that, I think that historical analogies are acceptable, even if they are overstated.

The supreme irony here is that in 2003, I published a book called The Language Police, which was a plea against censorship in schools, textbooks, and tests.

The book ended with these words:

“Let us, at last, fire the language police. We don’t need them. Let them return to the precincts where speech is rationed, thought is imprisoned, and humor is punished.”

“As John Adams memorably wrote in 1765, ‘Let us dare to read, think, speak, and write…Let every sluice of knowledge be opened and set a-flowing.'”

I believe that.

So, dear readers, consider yourself informed of my views about the importance of free speech and the free exchange of ideas.

Diane

I started this blog on April 24, three months ago.

I began with the following entry:

I decided to start my own blog because I was overusing Twitter and treating it as a miniblog, which it isn’t.

My weekly blog at Bridging Differences is great fun for me, and I love the format of exchanging letters with Deborah Meier. That format creates a certain aura of informality and encourages me to speak freely in a non-academic tone, the way one speaks to a friend. So, I don’t know where this will go, and I don’t know if I will succeed in remembering: 1) how to access my new blog; 2) my user name; 3) my password.

But if I can overcome these hurdles, I look forward to writing blogs on a near-daily basis, unconfined by the 140 character limit of Twitter, thus relieving my Twitter followers of the cascade of tweets that now clutter their Twitter feed from me.

Now it can be told.

I have posted on more than a “near-daily basis.”

I have posted more than 600 pieces, many written by you, the readers.

I have stopped overloading the Twitter feed of my followers on Twitter.

Instead I overload your mailboxes with anywhere from 5-20 posts daily.

Some of my very best posts are written by my readers, for which I thank you.

My readers are teachers, principals, parents, and people who care deeply about education from all over the world.

A friend wrote today and said that he liked the blog. I said that I always react in my head to everything I read. I used to mutter silently to myself. Now I have a blog and I can write a post on the blog instead of muttering.

So, if I am cluttering your mailbox, I apologize for that. You are free not to read the posts.

But I am having too much fun to stop.

And, one thing more, I have no idea how to access the blogsite. I just click on the latest comment to get there. Someday, I’ll have time to learn that little detail.

The good news is that I do remember my password. That’s an accomplishment.

Keep sending me your local news and comments. I learn from you every day.

Diane

In response to a post about Bill Gates’ prediction about the future of American education, a reader writes:

“Corporate society takes care of everything. And all it asks of anyone, all it’s ever asked of anyone ever, is not to interfere with management decisions.” – Rollerball (1975)

I didn’t see “Rollerball” when the film was released in 1975. It is a dystopian film about the distant future in 2018. It is not so distant anymore.

Dystopian films and novels are warnings, not predictions.

I just finished re-reading Brave New World, which I must have read fifty years ago. There is so much about the novel I didn’t remember. It bears re-reading. I was struck by the planned rank-ordering of people. No need to test them to put them in their status as Alpha or Beta or Gamma or Epsilon. The rankings were selected at the time the babies were conceived in giant incubators. Every child is conditioned to believe that his ranking is just right for him. Those at the top look down on those at the bottom. And those at the bottom are happy they don’t have the responsibilities and burdens of those at the top.

Testing works like that. It gives each child a test score and says that she is “advanced” or “proficient” or “basic” or “below basic,” or some other terminology. There is  some movement up or down to keep children hopeful that maybe next time….But eventually everyone understands which label they have, and it defines them. They are “advanced,” and they go to an Ivy League school. They are “proficient” and they get into a good state university. They are “basic” and they go to community college. They are “below basic,” and they drop out or get a GED if they are industrious.

The genius of our system is that students are taught that they get what they deserve! They are their ranking. This echoed as I read Brave New World?

In the novel, the entire state is planned to make everyone happy all the time, to have no time to think or criticize or dream. Like Bill Gates, the planners of this world want everyone to be busy all the time and engaged all the time. That’s how society works best, when dreamers and individualists are outcasts, and everyone else is busy and engaged.

The other thing that makes this world work well is its emphasis on consumerism. Everyone is taught from infancy that old things are worthless, everything must be new. Toys are multi-part, complicated and costly. Reminded me of my last foray into Toys R Us. Every toy had many moving parts, the parts could easily be broken, and the whole thing was made of cheap plastic. I didn’t want to buy anything. I got restless and left as soon as possible. At my grandson’s fifth birthday, he got 20 gifts, each of them a complicated thing in a box. At one point, as he was opening them, he said with a note of disappointment, “Oh, it’s another box.” I understood what he meant. O Brave New World.

About 7 pm EST yesterday, my Internet service died a quick death.

When it went down, it took out my access to the Internet, the telephone, and the television.

That happened as I was trying to post the news about Camika Royal’s article on Huffington Post.

I had to use my cell phone to get it posted, my cell having 3G.

Where I am now (not in NYC), cell phone service is spotty, and I had a hard time getting through to the local cable company.

The upshot was that I was offline for 24 hours.

I got Internet access back about an hour ago, and am still waiting for a repair crew to restore the telephone.

Fortunately, I had scheduled the posts that ran today well in advance.

You don’t think I write a post every five minutes from 6 am to 7 am, do you?

I have already written posts for tomorrow, and I will add more as the day progresses.

The good news is that I was able to write a new chapter for my book during the day, as a result of not being online every minute.

There is no bad news, other than the fact that I had to interact with Cablevision’s automated telephone system several times, which is a certain way to raise my blood pressure and reduce me to futile shouts, screams, oaths and unmentionable curses.

Diane

Just a couple of days ago, I said I wouldn’t blog on weekends. Yet, here I am, reading the news, reading my emails, and having a reaction to everything I read and impelled to share. It’s a Sunday. I just posted a blog. I violated the rule I just announced. Oh, well, they used to say that a woman reserves the right to change her mind. I have changed my mind about NCLB, testing, accountability, choice, competition, now I’m blogging on a Sunday.

I’ll try to stick to my book, but when I read something that catches my attention, I can’t resist reacting and sharing.

I think of this blog as my own hometown newspaper. I’m the editor and the main writer. I have lots of other reporters, most of whom are teachers or parents or principals or superintendents. They write for my hometown newspaper too.

There are times when I think, “Stop me before I blog again.” But most of the time I think, this is too much fun. And I am glad to say that there are thousands of readers who log on every day to read my hometown paper.

So, if I said you wouldn’t get a blog on a weekend, forget it. I’ll send out a post whenever I want–mostly from Monday to Friday– and do my best to write my book despite the seductions of blogging.

 

In my post on whether Pennsylvania is the worst state, my original language referred to “teacher evacuation,” instead of “teacher evaluation.”

I fixed my typo, but as I did, I realized that this was a meaningful slip.

Is “teacher evaluation” in fact “teacher evacuation”?

I keep hearing stories of excellent teachers who are retiring early because they don’t want to teach to lousy tests.

So, maybe I should have left the typo as accurate.

Maybe “teacher evaluation” is indeed “teacher evacuation.”

It makes room for the new college graduates who want to try teaching for a year or two, then find their “real” job.

Diane

I have written a lot of articles for publication in newspapers and magazines. If I publish in the New York Times or the Washington Post or the New York Daily News, my writing will reach hundreds of thousands of readers. Of course, many of their readers will pass right over your article, will not read it. Don’t get me wrong, I love getting my articles published. The blog reaches thousands of readers every day, not hundreds of thousands, and I’m content to know that every one of my readers cares about the subject.

Tomorrow, as the saying goes, the newspaper will be wrapping fish, but the blog will be saved, printed out, tweeted, posted on Facebook, or sent to friends and legislators.

But there is something about blogging that is even more rewarding than being printed in the newspaper. For one thing, I can write whatever I want whenever I want. That’s self-publishing. It is a sort of vanity project, to be sure, but it has its benefits. No one edits me. At some publications, the editors are very heavy-handed. No matter what I turn in, they always think they can write it better. It’s too long. Cut 200-300 words. The ending should be the beginning, and the beginning should be the ending. You can’t say this, there’s no room for that. Sorry, as we went to press, we have to cut another 100 words.

And there is always the chance that the editor(s) will decide he doesn’t want to publish you at all. So you either have wasted your time or you have to go knock on some other publication’s doors to find an outlet. I hate to think of all the unpublished articles I have written. As everyone who writes about education knows, there are very few outlets that will publish you. So one tends to accept whatever editors say or demand as the cost of being published.

The ultimate joy of blogging, then, is freedom to write, freedom to speak, freedom to express one’s views without editing.

And there is one other joy: The ability to interact with readers. When an op-ed appears in the newspaper, there may be a few letters printed. The writer never sees all of them and never gets to respond to those whose letters were published. On my blog, I read every comment, and I respond when a response seems warranted. This interactivity is priceless. I feel that the blog has put me in touch with a large community of friends, and they support me as I support them through these difficult times.

The danger of blogging is that I am having too much fun. There are longer articles that require focus and concentration, and I am blogging instead of doing the more challenging work.

And this fall, when I start my travels and lectures, I will have less time to keep up the frenetic pace of 2-3-4-5-6-7-8 blogs a day. I will have to cut back to one a day.

Yet every time I read an article about education, I want to react. Now I can.

This is my sounding board. Thank you for listening and reading.

Diane

Dear Friends,

One of the readers of this blog told me that I should space the entries. Typically, my cat wakes me at 5 am and I start writing and posting, sometimes four or five blogs. The reader said that his tendency was to read the last one first, missing some of the earlier ones. He suggested that I time them to appear every hour or two hours.

So today I am initiating that experiment. I am learning as I go. I just learned how to time the publication of blogs.

As some of you may have noticed, it took a while for me to figure out how to embed links to articles. Eventually I learned that too.

Please let me know whether you like the idea of spacing the blogs or prefer that I send them out, as I have been doing, in the early morning.

Diane

This is my blog, and there’s no rule that says I’m only allowed to write about education. Right now, I want to write about the animals I lost in the past three years. It’s been really hard because I miss them. I miss them every day.

Molly, a Tibetan terrier, died in 2010 at the age of 13. Molly had lymphoma for three long, hard years. What a wonderful, funny dog she was. She was a clown, and her last few years were so hard. Traditional western medicine didn’t work for her. The traditional vets said “put her down.” She survived on Chinese herbs after we found a vet whose specialty that was.

Lady, a cocker spaniel, died in 2011, at the age of 14. She had diabetes for three years. We got her in 2001 as a rescue dog. We wanted Molly to have a companion. Molly was depressed for six months after Lady arrived, but then they became fast friends. What a great dog she was. Lady never learned how to play when she was a puppy. Her strong point was loyalty. She made you love her. There was no escaping her fierce love.

Schatzie, the cat, arrived in 2006. She adored the dogs. She cuddled up next to them on their dog beds. They ignored her. She didn’t care. She loved them unconditionally. They seemed indifferent to her. Schatzie was a great girl. She was regal, as cats tend to be. She went into hiding when it was time to take a car trip. She was a great lady. She was seriously sad when the dogs died, so we brought in Dandy (aka, Dandelion), thinking that he would perk her up.

Bad idea. Didn’t work. Schatzie didn’t like Dandy, didn’t understand why we needed another cat. Dandy was an alpha male, and he was not intimidated by the 6-year-old Schatzie. He became increasingly aggressive with her.

She seemed so withdrawn. She stopped eating. We took her to the vet, who had no diagnosis. Then another vet, no diagnosis. Then to the Animal Medical Center, a major hospital.

Bad news: Schatzie was diagnosed with FIP: feline infectious peritonitis. The doctor said simply “She has a disease that is fatal and incurable.” Schatzie died a month ago at the age of six.

This is so hard.

Dandy lifts our spirits. He’s so funny, so spirited. Such a kitten.

But at night I think of the girls who were such an important part of my daily life for a decade. And I miss them.

Diane