RESIST

Of the many horrible things that have happened since last Friday, the one I know most about is the confirmation hearings of Betsy DeVos for Secretary of Education. 

For that reason, and because I feel so strongly that her confirmation would hurt millions of children, I made some phone calls this morning.

Specifically, I called the DC offices of all the Republican senators on the Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor & Pensions. 

DeVos has “donated” approximately $250,000 to five members of the committee voting on her confirmation. 

If that were not enough, it is abundantly clear that she lacks fundamental knowledge on crucial education debates and federal education law. I am appalled that they are even considering approving her confirmation given her clear incompetence. If she were qualified and I disagreed with her, I would be upset; however, she so wildly unqualified for the position that I felt I must do something. 

I hate calling people I don’t know. It makes my blood pressure rise. I clam up and forget what to say. It makes me so nervous. 

I did it anyway, and here is what happened: 

Committee Chair: Lamar Alexander (TN) 202.224.4944 – Busy signal. Will keep trying! (Chairman Alexander limited the questioning during the first confirmation hearing and did not allow a second hearing after DeVos’s ethics paperwork was released. If he thinks she is qualified and free of conflicts of interest, he should not be concerned about what will arise from a second hearing.)

Susan Collins (ME) 202.224.2523 – Left a message explaining that DeVos is unqualified and has too many conflicts of interest, so please vote no on her confirmation. 

Lisa Murkowski (AK) 202.224.6665 – Left the same message.

Johnny Isakson (GA) 202.224.3643 – Left the same message, with the added information that I grew up in Georgia.  

Orrin Hatch (UT) 202.224.5251 – Mailbox was full.

Richard Burr (NC) 202.224.3154 – Left the same message, though added that I attended college in NC and hoped the senator would listen to my concerns.

Michael Enzi (WY) 202.224.3424 – Someone answered the phone! I spoke to a staffer and registered my opposition. She didn’t even ask if I lived in Wyoming.  

Dr. Bill Cassidy (LA) 202.224.5824 – Another live person! I explained that I am an educator and asked the staffer to tell the senator I would like him to vote against DeVos. 

Pat Roberts (KS) 202.224.4774 – The office was experiencing a high volume of calls, so I left a message registering my opposition.

Tim Scott (SC) 202.224.6121 – I spoke to a staffer to voice my concerns. He asked if I lived in South Carolina. I explained that I did not, but that because I live in DC and do not have federal representation, I hoped the senator would be willing to hear my opinion.

Rand Paul (KY) 202.224.4343 – I spoke to another staffer and asked him to pass along the message that I would like the senator to vote against DeVos.

If you're not sure what to say, at The 65 (a reference to the 65 million who voted for Hillary) you can find scripts on this and other issues. Resist! 

Prudence Be Damned (#babysFirstMarch)

Farewell, Obamas, farewell. 

I did not agree with President Obama’s policies to improve education ("Race to the Top”), but I still respected his efforts to do something. I agreed with him on many issues, though not on all. Nonetheless, I trusted that his decisions were sound, that they were based on facts, that he took into account other viewpoints, and that he considered all options. Above all, no matter how much I disagreed with him, I trusted his competence. I cannot say the same thing for anyone in the current administration. 

Politics aside, President Obama exemplified grace and strove for justice. He remained classy and polite, despite horrendous circumstances (i.g. welcoming the orange monster to The White House). Even when I wished he would slight the new administration, he didn’t. Somehow he found the strength to follow the traditional transition protocol and to welcome the new first family, despite the unusual circumstances. I know many people felt that he was doing the right thing to preserve our democracy, but I can’t say I agree. Part of me wishes he had lashed out at the grabber, even though doing so would be uncharacteristic. 

It’s up to us to protest in whatever way we can. I feel guilty when I read articles about how all millennials just post on social media but don’t take any action. I would call my representatives in congress, but unfortunately I don’t have one. Not one who can vote, at least. The approximately 600,000 residents of the District remain without federal representation. 

What is left to do? I can write, and I can sign online petitions, and I can march. Check, check, and check. 

The planning for the Women’s March on Washington has been controversial, as has the name itself. Its website is fairly lousy, and only today was the final map revealed. Plus there is the issue of men and their participation: 

It’s also interesting to see a relative lack of male enthusiasm interpreted as a problem that falls on women. 

Given all that, plus the crowds, the irritating bag restrictions, and the difficulty actually getting there, why march?  

• To prove that we, the people, reject all things associated with the new administration, the most recent outrage (as of Friday) being the amoral and incompetent cabinet secretary nominees. (Not to mention the cowardly senators who will likely vote to approve their nominations.) 
• To protest threats to dismantle the ACA, because everyone deserves to have affordable health care regardless of preexisting conditions. 
• To show support for key provisions of the ACA, especially those that support families, mothers, and babies. 
• To stand up for the humanity and the rights of immigrants, those with disabilities, racial and ethnic minorities, and women. 
• To make it clear that we believe in the value of the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Endowment for the Arts. (Turns out that eliminating these agencies would fund the Pentagon for all of 11 hours.) 
• To support the continued existence of journalism, the free press, and real news. 
• To demonstrate against those who seek to control women's bodies because women's health shouldn't be a political issue. (Um, a gun requires more regulation than a uterus.) 
• To reject the increasing influence of special interests and the 1%. 
• To tell the rest of the world that we do not accept this reality. 
• To express dissent and to always remember that this is not normal. 
• Oh, and a million other reasons. 

Images by Shepard Fairey. 

We marched today. It was not the easiest way to spend the afternoon with a baby, and it might even be a little bit crazy to take a baby downtown for a crowded march, especially when one has to procure and pack all of baby's items in a clear plastic bag. But it was worth it.

Prudence be damned. 

We rode downtown on 2 buses without much trouble, only to see people walking every which way. (Given all the talk about entering the rally at Independence & 3rd Sts. with plastic bags of specific dimensions, I was surprised to see that there was a minimal police presence, no bags were being checked, and there were no barricades along the route.) We made our way from 9th & H Sts. down to Independence, which was blocked. We then walked over to 14th St. and were able to join the march there.

Hordes of people puttered along 14th St. by the Washington Monument and the African American History Museum chanting, among other things, "This is what democracy looks like," "If you want to build a fence / Build it around Mike Pence," "My body, my choice / Her body, her choice."

Some of my favorite signs pronounced: 

• You can't comb over bigot 

• NOT USUALLY A SIGN GUY BUT GEEZ

• I've seen smarter cabinets at IKEA

• I know signs. I make the best signs. They're terrific. Everyone agrees. 

• I'm revolting because he's revolting (Dad's sign)

And this was my favorite: 

I toted Rebekah around in my carrier, and after a couple hours we ducked out of the march and over to his office so I could feed her. Plenty of men showed up to protest, as did a number of people with disabilities. I wish I'd had one of those amazing hats! 

I just hope this is not the end of the protest against all things terrible. It was heartening to see so many people turn out in DC with signs and chants. There was an energy to the crowd similar to what I experienced at the first Obama inauguration in 2009: the feeling that those crammed together on a cold day felt just as strongly that justice must prevail. The crowds both here and abroad were stunning. We are not alone. 

It would be easy to stop now, to get excited by the frenzy of the crowds, but to return home and do nothing. It would be easy to forget amid the chanting that real people's lives are going to get vastly more difficult in the coming days. It would be easy for us to participate this one day and not again. It would be easy to be distracted from the real damage he is inflicting by minor issues like the crowd size at the inauguration or Meryl Streep. I am not sure what to do other than stay informed, painful as that may be, and challenge the media when they excuse his behavior. But we must make our voices heard for the next four years. 

Moving On

As you most certainly know if you're reading this, I quit my teaching job last spring to return to graduate school full time. I started a doctoral program in Special Education in August with the goal of helping teachers become even better at their jobs so that they could make even more of a difference in the lives of their students. I wasn't sure what that would look like, but I felt certain it was something that not only could I do, but that it was something would have a lasting impact.

After one semester in school, I wasn't thrilled with what I was learning, but I remained cautiously hopeful. I was encouraged to take as many statistics courses as possible so that I would be more marketable. To whom? To someone who would then want me to do statistics as part of my job! Ack! It began to dawn on me that a vision of my future self sitting a desk doing statistics was not a pleasant vision. Likewise for reading fMRI studies about toddler brains. 

As the second semester progressed, it became more and more clear to me that my classes had little to no connection to what I wanted to do after graduation (in four or more years). Had I felt that this material would better prepare me for what was to come, I would have been able to see the purpose of the struggle. But to push onward, knowing that I wasn't learning the skills I would need, felt futile. 

So, I stopped. I'm done. I'm free! 

What am I doing now? Blogging, for one! I have about twelve books that need to be written about, and I'm going to try to write more regularly. 

But my other big venture is my little writing business that I've been slowly plodding away at for a little over a year now. I've set up a new website just for that; it's not completely finished (but when is anything completely finished anyway?), but please check out Annie's Writing Cave! 

So far, I am marketing myself as a writing and academic support specialist. I hope, eventually, that I can work with schools to improve their writing programs. For now, I'm concentrating on two parts of the business: 1) working with students individually on homework, organization, research papers, and college essays; and 2) providing resources for students and teachers. I have a number of YouTube videos from my teaching days that are sitting idle, as well as numerous rubrics, quizzes, PowerPoints, etc. 

In the coming weeks, I'm going to continue to learn HTML so that I can spruce up my website and make it just the way I want it. I'm working on becoming an Amazon Affiliate so that if you purchase a book I recommend, I make a tiny little bit of money. I've set up accounting software--much better than just having a list of tutoring clients and dates on the notes app! Business cards are on the way, too! 

Lest this seem like a seamless transition, I should note that I had been agonizing over this decision for weeks. I did not want to disappoint the people I had been working for, and I didn't want to let down my professors. When someone reframed the possibility of quitting as a courageous choice to do what was right for me (rather than as "dropping out," as I had been thinking of it), I realized it was normal and okay to feel trepidation before quitting something, especially something I'd worked so hard to make happen. 

Now that I have moved on, I am certain I made the right decision. It feels so good to be doing something that I truly love doing. Everything feels a little brighter and a little easier. 

I Want To Be A Chef

When I went to summer camp as a child, I would eat white bread for two weeks straight. For breakfast, I would mix up the routine with Frosted Flakes or Cheerios, but generally I stuck to processed grains. No weird casseroles, no wings, though potatoes would be acceptable on occasion. 

I am considerably more flexible now, but with certain, albeit illogical, restrictions. I will not eat meat that resembles itself: no fish with heads, no beef tongues, no octopus tendrils. Nor will I indulge in deli meats, hot dogs, or other heavily processed meat-like products. don't want to know how they are made, but if I did, I am sure I would be even more averse to them. I can't stand to eat baby animals either; thinking too much about veal makes the injustice of eating animals is too fresh. Somehow it feels less cruel to eat an adult animal. At least it had a chance to have a (hopefully carefree) childhood! 

We have made eating complicated. The food pyramid I knew as a child has morphed into a plate meant for a child. There are more fad diets than there probably ever have been before. There is more organic food than there used to be, though now we at least now which foods it makes sense to purchase the organic version of and which foods it makes little difference. Unless we simply want to support organic farmers, even if doing so costs us more. There lies the complicated question of the interplay of our values and our budgets. Given that we have the privilege to care and make decisions based on our values, how much time should we invest in figuring out the best way to eat? And how strictly should we stick to our decisions? 

And now on to the actual topic ... 

The Netflix docu-series Chef's Table. I know, I know! I don't even like fancy, expensive food. It usually makes me nervous (because I don't know what it is) or guilty (if it costs a lot). I generally appreciate being able to look at a food and know what it is, with the obvious exception of meat, in which case I prefer that it not evoke the semblance of the animal it once was. That said, the music, cinematography, narrative structure, and of course the chefs make the series exceptional. 

The past two nights we have watched the show: first, we saw the episode with Massimo, of the Italian restaurant Osteria Francescana; second, we saw the episode with Dan Barber of Blue Hill restaurant and farm. These iconoclast chefs revel in their ingredients. They understand the essence of their raw material--food. They teach their employees their methods and philosophies. Their restaurants do not simply treat patrons to one expensive, delicious meal; instead, they transport them (and even distant viewers) to a place in which food preparation constitutes an exalted art form, and eating, ephemeral bliss. Yet the ecstasy of visiting these microcosms should not fade, but swell. As people visit Osteria Francescana and Blue Hill, they glimpse all that food can be, and (the chefs hope) integrate the respective philosophy of food into their daily lives. The chefs show us that you can indeed find sustainably sourced ingredients, eat them in small portions, and savor every bite. But even more, they show us a new, radical ways we can approach eating. 

With their relentless drive and exacting standards, they are trying to revolutionize the way we eat. They employ the best methods they can find and use the best ingredients available--whether reinventing authentic Italian, or building a sustainable farm-to-table ecosystem--and make ideals a reality. With boundless creativity, they transgress the boundaries of what other people think is realistic and even appropriate. 

Call me crazy, but this is how I'd like to build a school someday: Using the most rigorous research, with the most promising conditions, and a crew of like-minded teachers, I'd like to create a place where students' curiosity swells, rather than shrinks, where kids are given choices, respect, independence, and boundaries. This would be a place that worked with families, served kids who learn differently, and taught thinking, writing, and research in all subjects. 

School would start when teenagers are actually awake, teachers would be compensated fairly and would always be learning, and there would be no standardized tests. Students would take courses in rhetoric, reading, cognitive science, psychology, architecture, communication, narrative, politics, the court systems, the environment, and more. We would we beholden to nobody, yet bound by a common drive to provide the very best education possible. 

This is my wildly idealistic vision.

Pity Party

Though I have lived here for six years, I have not yet found a reliable place to get my eyebrows waxed. Last week, I went to a new salon, the Aveda in Georgetown. It is a bit pricier than other places, but I was hoping they would do a better job and then I wouldn't have to deal with the eyebrows for a while. I am not a fan of eyebrows or the waxing of them, for the record. Anyway, the loquacious waxer was asking me about myself, and I mentioned that I was a teacher. This elicited THE STANDARD TEACHER PITY PARTY. I don't know how to respond to this. (Other teachers out there, any ideas on how to be assertive without sounding defensive?) Would she stand for it if I said, "Ew, waxing, don't you just have to touch people's nasty skin all day and make small talk?" Or, if we think about the other (nether) regions that people want waxed, "How do you do such a foul job all day, and why do you succumb to the beauty industry's notion that less hair means more allure?" My guess is that these questions would not sit well with her.

So why do people keep asking teachers how they stand to be with teenagers? Or tell them how wonderful it must be to have the summer off? Or tell us that we must have a lot of patience?

First, we see the all the possibility in teenagers and actually do enjoy spending time with them. We value this important period in their lives and know that they need us to provide structure and models for them. Second, we don't just sit around all summer, at least not the motivated teachers. We recuperate from expending incredible amounts of physical, emotional, and mental energy for the past 10 months and prepare for a new year. We attend conferences that we pay for ourselves. We work on curriculum. We read. Third, patience isn't some gift that we were born with. We work at it. We understand why our students struggle and we meet them where they are. We don't expect them to already know everything and we don't expect it to be easy to teach them. But that is the challenge. That is why we need to work so hard.

So I'm tired of people who haven't taught thinking that it's easy, that they know what it involves. Or that they have the one answer for how to improve education in this country. Or that teaching is a back-up career. Or that it's possible to be a good teacher with only a summer of training. Or that works ends when the kids leave school in the afternoon. Or that smart people don't become teachers. Or that someone is too smart to be a teacher. Or worse, that the best teachers should become administrators. These insidious myths reveal only ignorance in those who hold them to be true.

Most of us are constantly learning because our education classes didn't prepare us well enough for all of the challenges that we have to meet. Don't think it's cute or rewarding to teach. There are rewards, sure, but I don't do what I do just because I like a modest salary and a fuzzy feeling. I do what I do because I think it's the most important thing I can do.

P.S. This Alexandria teacher has taught for 55 years. Awesome! But notice the hint of condescension in the reporters' voices.