In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it ‘Christmas’ and went to church; the Jews called it ‘Hanukkah’ and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say ‘Merry Christmas!’ or ‘Happy Hanukkah!’ or (to the atheists) ‘Look out for the wall!’ — Dave Barry

(Thanks to @Mamacita for the quote!)

Does it really matter what we call it when people just aren’t as quick to be an A-hole to other people?

People like to argue. I know, it surprises you.
They’ll argue about whether it’s cold when it’s 60 degrees out (at least here in California, they will). They’ll argue about politics. They’ll argue about which is the better pet, a dog or a cat. They’ll argue about which football team deserves to, but won’t make, the playoffs. They’ll argue about just about anything.

Like whether we should say “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!”

Both sides have a point: Saying “Merry Christmas” presupposes a belief in Christianity, which, in our pluaralistic, multicultural, melting-pot-type society is not a given. Saying “Happy Holidays!” discounts the influence the Judeo-Christian tradition has had on the culture of the United States and secularizes what many see as a religious holiday. Saying “Back at ‘cha!” just doesn’t seem to acknowledge the significance of the season itself.

So, why are we so focused on this?

The one thing I think many of us can agree on is that, at this time of year in particular, people try to set aside their A-hole-istic tendencies and be nicer to one another. Well, maybe not so much in the parking lot of the mall or at the counter of the Honeybaked Hams store, but, by and large, we do try to be less of an A-hole to other people during the late-November-mid-December season.

And, can any of us say this is a bad thing, no matter our motivation? Does it really matter if I, in the course of being less of an A-hole to you, say, “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!” Do you, on the receiving end of my less-A-hole-like attitude, really care what words come out of my mouth as I hold a door open for you while you carry $1500 worth of junk to your car? I think not.

What you really care about is the fact that I didn’t just let the door close in your face because I was already through it. What you really care about is the fact that I waved you into the parking space we were both trying to get, even though I was there first. What you really care about is the fact that I didn’t shove ahead of you in line at the JC Penny’s while you were holding your fussy 2-year-old and trying to buy gifts for your friends and family.

The words don’t show holiday spirit. The actions do.

So go ahead and say, “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!” or “Feliz Navidad!” or “Joyous Kwaanza!” or “Happy Chanukah!” or “Peaceful Winter Solstice!” or “Enjoy your days off!” Whatever you want to call it is fine with me.

Just be less of an A-hole for a few weeks, and I’m happy.

“Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” John 14:6 (NIV)

This statement is, as I understand it, essentially the foundation of the Christian faith: There is but one way to reach heaven and that is through Jesus, the Son of God. Living in the US, this is a message I’ve been hearing for my entire life, although growing up in a non-religious family, it’s not one that I heard with much reinforcement at home. Now, as I attend a church regularly with my wife (who recently came to faith), it’s one I hear even more.

Thing is, I don’t believe it.

Please allow me to explain:

Like I mentioned above, I had no particular religious upbringing. My family is nominally Catholic, and I received First Communion in the Church when I was about 7. That was basically the end of my religious education and participation until adulthood. I still identified as Catholic, but out of convenience rather than conviction.

I saw people with great religious beliefs around me, but never shared them. On one hand I admired those of great faith: they seemed, often, to be at peace and to be getting a great deal of comfort from their beliefs. On the other hand, I also so those who were clearly using their self-applied label of Christian for personal gain and seemed to be doing little more than paying lip service to the tenets of Christianity while acting self-righteously and superior to others. It was the latter who most colored my perceptions of religion in general and Christianity in particular, and who reaffirmed my conviction that I was better off living my life as best I could, having a personal relationship with God that did not include Jesus as a separate individual, and adopting a “live and let live” attitude towards the faiths, or absence thereof, of others.

I never really gave all that much thought towards what I believed. I accepted the possibility of a God, or Gods, but rejected the idea that He or She or They took much of an active interest in the lives of those here on Earth. Religion, I came to believe, was at worst a tool used by one group of people to control another, to enrich themselves, or to excuse their avarice, land-grabbing, murder, discrimination, and conquest, and at best a way for people to find peace in their lives by assigning responsibility for their condition, good or bad, to an all-powerful being or beings.

As I’ve learned about other faith traditions, one thing has struck me: adherents of all of them believe that theirs is the “right” way. Many believe that God has spoken directly to them or to the founders of their faith, and that their beliefs, traditions, and practices will gain them entry into the better part of the afterlife.

So, who’s right? It seems reasonable to assume that there is one, true faith, and that adherents of those others are in the wrong and doomed to eternal suffering or, depending on your belief system, separation from God/Gods/Creating Spirit or continued reincarnation into the mortal cycle of life, death, joy, and pain.

But, here’s my question: God, assuming one believes in him, is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-present. How, then, can we presume to limit Him to one path?
A look around you will remind you that God loves diversity. Look at the variety of life He created; animals, birds, insects, and people. Rain, sunshine, deserts, mountains, oceans, storm and calm. People point to John 14:6 and say, “But, God says right here that THIS is the only way! We’re not the ones limiting Him to one path; He chose the path, and it is through Christ.”
Yes, that’s what it says. But think for a moment: Assuming that God wants mankind to live by a certain code and, as a reward for that wants to allow them to continue for eternity alongside Him, and assuming that He wants as many as possible, from around the world He created, to come to Him, doesn’t it stand to reason that He has many different paths, paths that will be attractive to us, in all of our diversity?

I’ve always wondered, when I hear people say things like, “Christ is the only way!” what happened to those who lived before Christ, or those who lived and died long before Christians moved outside of the Middle East and Europe to spread the word of God. Were they damned to Hell simply because they were born at the wrong time? The answer I’ve often heard is this:

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:13 (NIV)

Those who seek Him will find Him. Doesn’t that, right there, allow for other paths to “salvation?”
I find it hard to believe that a God who loves us, who wants us to be good to one another, to act out of love towards one another, would punish us for being good differently.

Look to the example of the Dalai Lama. By all accounts, this is a person who exemplifys “Good,” with a capital “G.” Yet, by Christian standards, he worships false gods and is doomed to burn in Hell. How can a just, loving God do that?

I attend a Christian church with my wife. I even volunteer with the church as a camera operator every 3 weeks, we contribute a portion of our income to the church every month, and we sponsor a child in Kenya through a ministry partner of the church. There are many, many good people there, and I feel that the church has a positive impact on our community; our family has participated in two community service days sponsored by the church, cleaning up local schools. The senior pastor is, as far as I can determine, sincere in his faith and lives by it, unlike some notable examples of ministers who have abused the trust of their congregations and the power of their positions. He’s an engaging speaker, and for the most part I enjoy listening to his messages; there’s a lot of good there for everyone, I think, regardless of religious conviction.

But I wouldn’t consider myself a Christian, a “follower of Jesus.” I typically pass when the Communion cup and bread come around, I don’t sing during worship or participate actively in prayer. I don’t hear God speaking to me while I’m there, telling me to accept the sacrifice of Jesus on my behalf. I don’t feel God pushing me towards baptism. There’s no voice in my head or in my heart telling me that this is the one, true path that I must follow.

Some will say, “Read the Bible, and you’ll see what God wants for us!” I have a problem, I will admit, accepting as authority for any belief system the central document of that system: “I-believe-the-Bible-is-the-word-of-God-because-the-Bible-says-it-is-the-word-of-God” (I acknowledge this is a gross over-simplification) isn’t exactly a convincing argument. And, honestly, the idea that God allowing Jesus to be crucified was a sacrifice on His part rings hollow to me (God is omnipotent, omniscient. Jesus is son of God, and is himself God. God knows that Jesus will be crucified, but afterward will live again and eventually come to heaven and rejoin God, or come back to join Himself. If you knew you could give something up and get it back, would you really consider that a sacrifice?)

This church is not my home, although it is the home of many. This church is not my “forever family,” though many have found a “forever family” here.

And I believe that’s OK.

I believe that there are many paths to God, and that what is important is for us to live as good as we can, to serve our families, our communities, our world, with what talents and resources we have. It’s important that we act out of love for one another, and care for those who need us. The ideals of service and sacrifice are not exclusive to any one faith, but are a common thread through all of human society; how can one religion possibly claim exclusive right to them?

I admit, this is a superficial examination of faith in general and Christianity in particular, and despite what it may seem I am open-minded. I admire those people who hold to their beliefs, who exemplify the best that a religious tradition teaches. Sometimes I envy them the peace they have, the certainty that things will work out. But I’m honest enough with myself to recognize that I don’t possess that faith, and that to participate in worship actively, of any faith tradition, would be hypocritical and meaningless; if it’s not in my heart, it shouldn’t be on my lips.

You know what? I’m convinced. I’ve decided to believe you when you say that you want what’s best for kids, and that you are concerned about the future of the children of this country as well as the future economic prosperity of the country itself. I, and every other educator and parent I’ve ever met, share your concern and your desire to improve education in this country. It is, after all, important.

But let’s talk about the methods you’ve chosen to achieve this goal, shall we?

Do you have children yourself, Mr/s. Ed reformer? Have you ever tried to convince one of your children to do something they didn’t want to do? And, in this attempt, did you threaten your child with consequences if they didn’t do what you wanted them to do? How did that work out for you?

“Eat your peas, or no dessert!”
“Clean your room, or you’re grounded!”
“Mow the lawn, or you can’t use the car this weekend!”
“Stop crying before I give you something to cry about!”

Odds are, you got the behavior you wanted, be it eating peas or a mown lawn. But did your threat of punishment make your child enjoy eating their peas? Was the lawn mowed better than it ever had been before? What was the quality of the work the child produced? Was it the last time you ever had to threaten punishment to get the same behavior? Did the quality of the mowing, or the enthusiasm of eating peas maintain the same high level? Or did you get a half-hearted, bare-minimum attempt to fulfill the request you’d made, along with a bitter, surly child who said they hated you? Or was it that you simply wanted compliance, not a real change in behavior, not real quality work?

Have you ever tried to get an adult to do something for you? A co-worker, subordinate, spouse, or stranger? What approaches have worked best for you? Threatening discipline or termination, divorce, or physical violence? Or appealing to their sense of professionalism, responsibility, or community? Asking them to change, or telling them to change? Have you seen significant drops in crime that you can attribute to the threat of severe consequences alone, or do such drops come with an accompanying increase in police presence and community improvement initiatives?

I think you’ll agree: you can’t threaten or punish people into doing what you want them to do; at least, not if you want them to continue doing it after you let up on the punishment. You get them to do what you want when you work with them, treat them with the respect they are due, and value their contributions.

So, being the smart, dedicated people you are, I ask you: why do you think taking away teachers’ unions, due process rights, salaries, and professional standing will make them teach better?

“Care more about students, or we’ll cut your salaries!”
“Teach better, or we’ll cancel the collective bargaining agreement!”
“Work harder, and longer, for less money, or we’ll replace you with long-term subs who work cheaper!”

Look, we get it; the economy is bad, and everyone has had to tighten their belts (well, at least everyone who isn’t a CEO, but we’ll ignore that point for now.) Teachers and other school employees around the country have done exactly that, accepting pay freezes and cuts, furlough days, and abbreviated school years along with reductions in support staff, cuts in classroom supplies, fewer visits from the custodian, and larger class sizes, all accompanied by the ever-present threat of the RIF notice, and have accepted them largely without complaint and while minimizing the impact on kids in their classrooms. And in exchange for these sacrifices, we’ve been told that we’re overpaid, lazy, and concerned more about our big, fat pensions than we are our students’ achievement. We’re told we can’t be trusted to do our jobs without frequent visits from “experts” who have never actually worked with kids to make sure we’re doing it right. We’re told that years of experience and advanced degrees are meaningless in comparison to the “enthusiasm” of a Teach For America teacher with 5 weeks training and an Ivy League college loan debt they’re hoping to have forgiven after 2 years. We’re told that insisting on the right to bargain collectively for salary, benefits, and working conditions makes us “defenders of the status quo” who don’t care about kids.

So, we comply, but our heart isn’t in it. We’ll administer the standardized tests that don’t really tell us what you say they do, and in the process we’ll kill our kids’ natural curiosity and joy of learning, because “you measure what your treasure,” and if it’s not on the test, we don’t care. We’ll read scripted lessons to our classes of 35+ kids, and refuse to answer questions that aren’t in the teachers’ guide because we can’t be trusted to do so. We’ll skip art, music, and PE because they aren’t tested. And we’ll burn out and leave the profession in droves, because that’s what you want, and you’ll find (probably too late) that our kids are worse off than they were before.

Well, here’s another option: include us in the process. Let’s work together to make schools better for kids. For kids, not for CEOs, not for politicians, but for kids. We want to do what’s best for kids; not what’s cheapest, or most popular amongst the Tea Party set, but what is best for kids. Treat us with respect, and we will be willing to listen. We want to make our profession better, just as you claim; work with us to make it so. Please.

Sincerely,

Jim

I’ll allow you to read the letter yourself; my point here is not about the content of the letter, but rather how well it was (or, more accurately, wasn’t) written. I don’t pretend to know much about the situation the chief is describing; I live in the same county but not the same city, and I don’t keep up on events there so much. I’m not here commenting on how accurately the chief portrays the political and financial climate in his city, nor on how accurately he describes the qualifications of the city councilpersons. None of that has anything to do with my point.

And that point, finally, is this: When you write for public consumption, whether it’s a press release, a letter to the parents of students in your class, or a VERY public letter of resignation, you should have someone proofread your work BEFORE it’s published.

As I read this letter, I was impressed by the authenticity of the chief’s feelings, and by his candor as he shared them with his audience. However, the awkward sentence structure, the apostrophe in the word “fly’s,” and other stylistic and mechanical errors took away from the impact of the letter. Instead of the “righteously-outraged-public-servant” vibe he was probably going for, I got a “OK-what-exactly-was-he-trying-to-say-and-why-didn’t-he-correct-this-before-he-sent-it” feeling.

The lesson? HOW you say what you’re saying matters just as much as WHAT you’re saying, and sloppy mechanics make you look dumb. Maybe that doesn’t matter much in the comments section of the newspaper, but it ought to matter in the writing of professionals- in any profession.

PS: I realize that a post of this sort invites you to be critical of my own grammar and usage. Please, if I have made errors point them out. While I believe grammar is important, I’m no perfect grammarian myself. If I have erred, mea culpa. I hope only that my errors serve to help you, gentle reader, to improve you own writing.

I’m not a particularly religious person, but there are moments when certain passages from the Bible seem particularly appropriate. (I hope this is not a case of the Devil quoting Scripture for his own ends!)

Please allow me to explain:

I left my most recent job, voluntarily, in June of this year after posting my resignation in March. The position was not, for a variety of reasons I’ll not go into here, a good “fit” for me, and the stress of going to a job that wasn’t right for me every day was having an impact on my life outside of work. Leaving the job was the best thing for me to do for myself.

This is not to say that leaving didn’t create some (considerable!) turmoil of its own, but overall it has improved my quality of life and brought my family closer together. The improvements in my personal relationships far outweigh the other issues this decision has precipitated.

Now, despite the improvements in my life and in my own general outlook towards life, being unemployed presents some very real difficulties of its own; namely, how do I contribute to the support of my family without a source of income? I’ve spent the last 6 months attempting to solve this problem, searching for a new job in education.

Since June, I’ve applied for in the area of 60 positions, from classroom teacher to dean of students to assistant principal to principal to coordinator to director, and even a couple non-school jobs. I’ve interviewed for about 8 of these positions, and have received, to date, exactly zero offers of employment. I haven’t even been offered an interview for a teaching job; I suspect it’s because I am too expensive to hire, with 90 post-bachelors units and 14 years of experience.

Given this, it seems that the universe is trying to tell me something: the season of my time in education may have passed.

I’ve been working in this field for a long time, and i have invested a great deal of time, energy, emotion, and money into my career (those 2 masters degrees weren’t free, ya know!); however, if I can’t get a position in the field right now, I am obligated by my responsibilities to my family to find one in another field.

I don’t know what field that is, or what it is I’m going to wind up doing, but I have to do SOMETHING.

I’m not abandoning education altogether- it’s too much a part of who I am to do that. I’ll continue to read about teaching and learning, interact with educators on Twitter, and (I hope) continue to blog about education and life in general. But, and this is very hard for me to say, I don’t think I’ll be an educator, at least professionally, for a while. I have to focus my energies in a direction that will help me to provide for the needs of my family.

Perhaps the seasons will turn again soon. For now, though, “[There is] A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away…”

The time has come for me to cast away a profession I love and a field for which I am passionate, and to get something different.

“In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it ‘Christmas’ and went to church; the Jews called it ‘Hanukkah’ and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say ‘Merry Christmas!’ or ‘Happy Hanukkah!’ or (to the atheists) ‘Look out for the wall!’” — Dave Barry

(Thanks to @Mamacita for the quote!)

Does it really matter what we call it when people just aren’t as quick to be an A-hole to other people?

People like to argue. I know, it surprises you.
They’ll argue about whether it’s cold when it’s 60 degrees out (at least here in California, they will). They’ll argue about politics. They’ll argue about which is the better pet, a dog or a cat. They’ll argue about which football team deserves to, but won’t make, the playoffs. They’ll argue about just about anything.

Like whether we should say “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!”

Both sides have a point: Saying “Merry Christmas” presupposes a belief in Christianity, which, in our pluaralistic, multicultural, melting-pot-type society is not a given. Saying “Happy Holidays!” discounts the influence the Judeo-Christian tradition has had on the culture of the United States and secularizes what many see as a religious holiday. Saying “Back at ‘cha!” just doesn’t seem to acknowledge the significance of the season itself.

So, why are we so focused on this?

The one thing I think many of us can agree on is that, at this time of year in particular, people try to set aside their A-hole-istic tendencies and be nicer to one another. Well, maybe not so much in the parking lot of the mall or at the counter of the Honeybaked Hams store, but, by and large, we do try to be less of an A-hole to other people during the late-November-mid-December season.

And, can any of us say this is a bad thing, no matter our motivation? Does it really matter if I, in the course of being less of an A-hole to you, say, “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!” Do you, on the receiving end of my less-A-hole-like attitude, really care what words come out of my mouth as I hold a door open for you while you carry $1500 worth of junk to your car? I think not.

What you really care about is the fact that I didn’t just let the door close in your face because I was already through it. What you really care about is the fact that I waved you into the parking space we were both trying to get, even though I was there first. What you really care about is the fact that I didn’t shove ahead of you in line at the JC Penny’s while you were holding your fussy 2-year-old and trying to buy gifts for your friends and family.

The words don’t show holiday spirit. The actions do.

So go ahead and say, “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!” or “Feliz Navidad!” or “Joyous Kwaanza!” or “Happy Chanukah!” or “Peaceful Winter Solstice!” or “Enjoy your days off!” Whatever you want to call it is fine with me.

Just be less of an A-hole for a few weeks, and I’m happy.

Loyalist newspaper cartoon

Once upon a time in America, newspapers were plentiful. Large cities had several publisher producing papers on a monthly, weekly, and even daily basis. Folks had ample choice as to where they got their news. Men would gather in  pubs, tea houses, and coffee shops to discuss and debate the issues of the day. No, they didn’t always agree, but people were informed about the day’s events and based their opinions on that information.

Sounds good, right?

Well, this scenario is true, but only to a point. See, those competing newspapers? they had axes to grind on particular issues, and their reporting tended to be biased in favor of their points of view. People subscribed to the papers that shared their viewpoints and which told them the news the way they wanted to hear it.

This tradition continued through the Civil War and into the late 1800s, until the “Yellow Journalism” period in the late 1890s drove some to call for higher standards on the part of journalists. These people wanted the news in a form Joe Friday could appreciate- Just the facts, Ma’am- and for 100 years or so this was the expectation of those who read newspapers. While the editorial pages were the place for opinions, slant, and spin, the rest of the paper should be “just the facts.” As television news supplanted print as the primary source of news, we continued to expect that the journalists in front of the cameras held the same standard of journalistic integrity as their print colleagues should.

Then along came the Internet, and shortly thereafter the blogging explosion (revolution?). Now, anyone could be a journalist! Just go out, find the truth, and report it for all the world to see!  A great step forward in our quest to ensure responsibility and accountability on the part of our public figures.

But, in my opinion, we’re experienced a shift in our journalistic expectations as a result of this revolution, one that is having a Balkanizing effect on politics, education, and nearly every other issue under debate in this country. The media companies running the networks and publishing the (few remaining) newspapers and news magazines don’t really care about “journalistic integrity.” Some of their staff do, sure, but not the companies. They care about profits. Profits are driven by advertising, and only programs with viewers, papers with readers, and websites with unique visitors will produce advertising revenues, so they will do what they can to get viewers, readers, and site visits, and today that means giving you the news the way you want to hear it.

From the 1970s to the 1990s and into the early 2000s, we’ve seen a decline in the number of traditional print media outlets- with a shift towards digital combined with economic difficulties, papers have combined, failed, and clods, but without a net negative impact on the total number of news source options, and- naturally, I suppose- we become more selective in the outlets we turn to for information. Too many of us though (and I, too, am guilty of this more often than I care to admit) are choosing to stick with news sources that provide us with news the way we want to hear it. Why should I believe the Liberal Media when Fox tells me what I want to hear? Why should I listen to Glenn Beck and his colleagues when Keith Olbermann makes me nod in agreement? I don’t want to be challenged, made to think that maybe, just maybe the other side of the issue could actually have a good point; I want to be outraged. I want to feel threatened, and I want to be told that the way if feel about things is right, damnit!

It’s not just politics, either. Those of us in education, while we tell our students that they should listen to all sides of the story before forming their opinions, have Twitter feeds and RSS readers filled with folds who agree with us. Oh, we may have one or two we point to as Yin to our Yang, but I suspect that, overall, your conversations take place in the silo.

It’s not easy to listen to (or read the writing of) someone telling you you’re wrong- even if they’re not speaking directly to you- but it’s critical that we do so. We won’t be able to create meaningful, lasting change in ANY area if we aren’t willing to dialogue. We can stay safe in our silos, railing against the unfairness of it all, or we can accept the fact that we aren’t always right.

A favorite movie of mine is 1776, a musical version of the story of the Second Continental Congress as they debate the Declaration of Independence. In one scene, a delegate from Rhode Island comes into the room (after a visit to the privy) to find he’s the deciding vote in whether the issue will even be discussed by the Congress. He says: “Well, in all my years I ain’t never heard, seen nor smelled an issue that was so dangerous it couldn’t be talked about. Hell yeah! I’m for debating anything. Rhode Island says yea!”

Take the risk. Open the doors to the silo.

I am not a veteran, although I thought for a long time in my late teens and early 20s that I would make a career of military service. My family isn’t one where such service is a tradition- my maternal grandfather was a naval officer during WWII, and my father was in the Army in the early 1960s, but neither spoke fondly of their time in the service. Nonetheless, I was convinced as a kid that I would be in the Navy, and after Top Gun came out, well, obviously naval aviation was the way to go!

When I started college, I joined the Navy ROTC unit at San Diego State, but my early college years were not exactly shining examples of academic achievement and I lasted only one year at SDSU. I went to community college for 18 months and rebuilt my GPA, then transferred to a school without an ROTC unit. “No problem!” I thought. “I’ll go to Officer Candidate School instead.” After I graduated I took the test for OCS, and while I passed my scores were not quite high enough to really be competitive, so I decided I could enlist and try for OCS from the ranks. By this time, though, I was looking towards the Coast Guard instead of the Navy. I took the ASVAB and scored well enough that I had my choice of MOS, even had the enlistment papers in my hand, but came to the conclusion that, at 25, I’d passed the age where the military was right for me.

I don’t regret reconsidering military service, but do occasionally wonder what my life would have been like if I’d served. My brush with the service has left me with an increased respect for those who did choose to serve and a great appreciation for what they do, particularly in our post-9/11 world. While I don’t always agree that what our civilian leadership sends our sons and daughters to do counts as “protecting America’s freedoms,” I always appreciate that those sons and daughters go into harm’s way because they believe that America is worth fighting for.

They’re right: America is worth fighting for, whether we do it in uniform overseas or here, in polling places, schools, and office buildings. Let’s honor those who serve and those who have lost their lives in service to our country. To quote Lincoln again,

It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they have, thus far, so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us – that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion – that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom; and that this government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Thank you, veterans, for your service.

• WiscPrincipal: @DianeRavitch Too many leaders want to measure education effectiveness like they measure the Dow average.
• Me: @WiscPrincipal @DianeRavitch Because #s are easy, whether or not they are accurate. Can compare one set of #s to another and claim results.
• DianeRavitch: But the numbers don’t mean much. Teaching to test, gaming the system, narrowing curriculum.
• Me: @DianeRavitch I agree. We’re operating schools in a culture that’s used to comparing everything- final scores, top salaries. People want a value they understand, can comp to others, know their tax money is buying the best “product” posble. We need another measure.
• DianeRavitch: Who are the winners? Those with most money, highest scores? They raced to the top. What about the rest of us? Are they better?
• Me: @DianeRavitch That’s the problem- media, general public, DOE are trying to measure schools w/ numbers that don’t measure what we REALLY do. We need to find a simple, understandable metric for evaluating schools that is accurate and keeps us accountable.
• irasocol: @Me @DianeRavitch do you imagine this “simple metric” exists? Just asking
• @irasocol @DianeRavitch Not sure, but I hope so. Otherwise, we’ll be assigned numbers that don’t tell the real story.
• Me: @m_rhee Would love to hear your voice in this conversation, too. Do a Twitter search for @DianeRavitch and see what’s being said.
• DianeRavitch: what an idea!
• DianeRavitch: There is no simple metric for evaluating schools because they have many purposes and each human being is unique. Simple is wrong. By the nature of measurements, they compel you to do what they want, not what you should do.
• Me: @DianeRavitch I get that. But the problem is, the public wants a measure, and will accept a poor one in absence of an accurate one. How do we meet that demand and stay true to our core purpose of doing what is best for kids?
• DianeRavitch: I’ve tried to explain that our measures are dumbing schools down and are misleading. Bad measures worse than none at all.
• Me: @DianeRavitch Again, I agree. But the demand isn’t going to go away anytime soon. How do we balance? A good measure the public will accept?
• DianeRavitch: Honestly, I don’t know, I only know that measures we now use are hurting kids, undermining education, destroying creativity.
• Me: @DianeRavitch I don’t know either, but think it should be a priority. When we complain and don’t offer solution, makes us look like whiners.
• DianeRavitch: When policy driving teachers off a cliff, you have to say this is wrong. People pushing bad ideas have no uncertainty.
• Me: @DianeRavitch The divisiveness in ed policy is reflective of that in nation at large. Saying “Don’t measure us b/c it’s bad!” no matter how correct doesn’t serve our purpose. Need to find a way to bridge the gap, meet in the middle.
• DianeRavitch: Thanks for the great chat tonight! See you again another night.
• Me: @DianeRavitch Enjoyed it, thanks!

What was exciting for me about this conversation was not what we were able to accomplish, but the fact that it took place at all. With a tool like Twitter, or Facebook, or Plurk, or whatever, the common in-the-trenches folk are able to interact with those making and influencing policy. And while someone like Ravitch or Rhee may be using Twitter to push their own agenda, at least it gives the rest of us a public forum in which to participate.

So, what do you think?