Going home

Inishmaan, Aran Islands





If I don't come back, here's where you're likely to find me.

Image by Mike Simms, shared under CC license; image found here.

Puddles

I am going away for a couple of weeks, to wander around the west coast of Ireland. Perhaps the journey will cure my delusions that my rants will have any effects on the US DOE. Should I decide to spend the rest of my life on the Aran Islands, I do not want my last post to be about Arne.

I am lifting this from something I wrote over 5 years ago, late June, 2004. I was still in medicine at the time.


Children gravitate to puddles.

Children see things before they are taught they do not exist.¹ With enough education, they learn to avoid puddles. They no longer waste time staring at the edge of a pond.

My daughter, now old enough to have children of her own, still whiles away time at the edge of water. Yesterday we wasted some time on a warm June evening staring into a 15 gallon bucket of pond water, kept by the garden for watering plants. She did this partly to keep me company, but mostly because she wanted to. On the days I am sure I screwed up as a parent, I need to remember this.

If you stare at the night sky long enough,more details emerge. A hundred stars turns into a thousand. If you hold a handful of pond water, you might not see anything at first. Look a little harder. Look for movement. It's there.

---

I shelled peas today, something I love to do. I split the impossibly green pod, then run my thumb inside, freeing the peas. Some bounce away onto the ground, looking to snuggle into the earth. I leave them be.

Shelling peas is supposed to be tedious--it's one reason Americans wanted to get off the farm, I suppose.

But just stop for a minute and think about what it means to live in a land where 95% of the people can be freed from, the drudgery of preparing their own food.

James E. Bostic, Jr
Assistant Secretary of [Agriculture] for Rural Development²

I enjoy shelling peas. My father, not much older than me, cannot shell peas anymore. Not sure he ever enjoyed it when he could, but he would today. He still enjoys eating them, though he turns blue now and again when eating things pea-sized. June is pea season. It is my father's last pea season.

Desire is a funny thing.

---

Our family microscope is a teaching scope--Kerry and I can look at another world together. When one wanders away from one's usual world, it's good to have company.

We stared into the same world together.

The critter peeked from under a duckweed leaf, saw an even tinier critter, and munched. It moved, well, gleefully.

I am, of course, anthropomorphizing....but gleeful is the right word. We can reduce it to the transfer of energy from one critter to another, but the subsequent burst of energy gave me a burst of energy--glee is contagious.

Turns out the critter was an ostracod. I never saw an ostracod before. I never thought about them when I used pond water to feed the garden. I knew that pond water made great fertilizer. I just never wondered why. "Glee" (or energy) gets transformed into plant growth. Which means ostracods die.

Ostracods have sex. Ostracods eat. Ostracods have baby ostracods.

Boy ostracods attract girl ostracods by using flashing lights. Boy ostracods use "a special long leg" to pass sperm into girl ostracods. I bet a boy ostracod enjoys his "special long leg."³

Watering my plants just got harder.

---

In the 17th century, Antonie van Leeuwenhoek made microscopes. Invented them, really. He saw things no one saw before.

I then most always saw, with great wonder, that in the said matter there were many very little living animalcules, very prettily a-moving. The biggest sort... had a very strong and swift motion, and shot through the water (or spittle) like a pike does through the water. The second sort...oft-times spun round like a top...and these were far more in number.

Antony van Leeuwenhoek, in report to the Royal Society

I cannot imagine the wonder coursing through Leeuwenhoek's veins, but I know what I felt as I sat with my eldest on the stoop, seeing critters we never imagined. We did not know they were ostracods yet. We did not know much about them at all.

We knew this much, though--they got excited when they found something good to eat. We could see them munch on something else, then could see the "something else" in their bellies. Voyeurs, we were.

This is the world we live in. You have innumerable critters in your gut, in your nose, on your skin. You are surrounded by a cloud of bacteria. Every step you take destroys uncountable lives, but creates ground ripe for uncountable more.

We think we are special, and perhaps we are.

Yearning. Lust. Desire. I seek light, warmth, food, and love. So do animalcules. In June, with the infinite light of early summer, it makes sense.






¹When I was young, I believed what they taught me--at noon, the sun was supposed to be directly overhead. I spent years studying shadows at noon, years, before I realized that I had been fed a lie. In this part off the world, the sun is never directly overhead.

² From The Unsettling of America, in " The Body and the Earth," Wendell Berry, p. 96.

³Antony van Leeuwenhoek (1632-1723), http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/history/leeuwenhoek.html

The photomicrograph is by Anna33 via wikimedia, released under Creative Commons.

" You take the blue pill and the story ends."

I was going to avoid Arne today, really, but then he came out with this:

Q Why include business in the policy debate about public education?

A We all need to work together on this stuff, business leaders and educators. Everyone's mutual interests are absolutely aligned.

Arne Duncan, Chicago Tribune, July 6, 2009

Everyone's mutual interests are not 'absolutely' aligned, not even close.

Many teacher's act in the students' best interests, though not always effectively. Some teachers fell into teaching for other reasons.

The NEA's mission "is to advocate for education professionals and to unite our members and the nation to fulfill the promise of public education to prepare every student to succeed in a diverse and interdependent world." Two clauses, but not 'absolutely aligned.'

The business leaders' interests are to increase market share and feed their businesses.

I knew Arne had some arithmetic issues--he's confused by his own numbers when he touts his Chicago miracle. He also has some grammar issues--I want to incent him to improve. Now I fear for his sanity.

Everyone's mutual interests are absolutely aligned.

Either Arne's taken the blue pill, or he's one cynical, disingenuous pup. (I'd consider other hypotheses, but I'd like to maintain my fantasy that Harvard screens its applicants, even its athletes.)

The bluepill image is from wikia.com.

Arne Duncan, meet the Declaration of Independence

“The best thing we can do is educate our way to a better economy."

Arne

I try to keep catechism out of my classroom, and not just the Christian sort. If you think you can learn science from a textbook, or from an interactive computer program, or from packaged lab activities, you are teaching catechism.

I also try to keep religion out of my classroom, but pushing the limits of what we know can lead to "dangerous" thoughts among my tadpoles.

"You're competing for jobs with kids from India and China. Schools should be open six, seven days a week; eleven, twelve months a year."

Arne again, talking to students in Denver

Perhaps Arne did not pay attention during biology classes. Or maybe he did. It is quite possible to ace an introductory level biology course without understanding much.

The Earth teems with life; life teems with energy. Our existence depends on the flow of energy through organisms--that's why we eat.

The Earth receives a finite amount of energy each finite moment, gifts from the sun. We are gulping up millions upon millions of years' worth of sunlight stored in fossil fuels, again finite.

We, as part of this teeming community dependent on the sun's light, have limits.

I am confident that we are on the right course as the Administration implements a comprehensive cradle-to-career education agenda to prepare our citizenry to compete in the global economy.

Yep, Arne

The religion of the global economy, however, does not recognize limits. "Economic growth" drives the world economy.

We cannot continue economic growth indefinitely--we are ultimately tied to the land. If I can teach one thing to a child, it would be that we came from the dust, and we shall return to the dust. Our cultural mistake, our cultural tragedy, is belittling the dust, and the energy that allows the dust to swirl and change forms.

Science only works when we seek to get beyond the world inside our heads. Grasping the world outside, however, depends on creating representational worlds inside our heads. Sadly, we confuse the latter with the natural (or the universe or reality or the mystery, or whatever word you choose to use--science cannot tell you what that great mystery is).

Thinking we can grow or exploit our way out of an economic crisis reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of basic biology.

Community colleges like Miami Dade are going to be an extremely important part of restoring the economy over the next few years and ensuring that our students can compete not just with their neighbors down the block, but also with their peers in China and India.

Arne

I have a hypothesis:

Should we ever raise a generation of knowledgeable children, grounded in natural world, capable of thinking for themselves, not surrounded by the constant commercial hum defining success (money, bright teeth, money, large home, money, fast car, money, firm thighs, money, multiple degrees, money, executive privileges, money...) the gross domestic product would come crashing down.

That would be bad news for most of us in the States. We would lose a few digits in our electronic portfolios. Our tidy retirement funds set aside to provide us with the finest nursing home care might evaporate. We might not be able to travel far from our backyards.

On the plus side, such a generation could grow food, dress themselves, repair engines, darn socks, bake bread, build homes, unplug a toilet.

These investments [American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009] are the surest way to provide long-term stability in to our economy. With these funds, we will educate our way to a stronger economy.

Arne again

The point of public education should be to promote a functional citizenry. And the point of government? Today's as good a day as any to ask. We got a pretty good answer to that question back in 1776.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.

For all the talk of the economy, for all the talk of education, we've managed to screw up the intent of both. Arne is tying these two disastrous misadventures together, convinced he is serving a noble cause, and I cannot really blame the man--he is the epitome of what the best in education can produce today. He is not the only disaster produced the University of Chicago Laboratory Schools. His tragedy, his blindness, is ours. Few of us know what we want anymore.

So long as the sun shines, though, I remain an incorrigible optimist

Today is one of the few days Americans congregate outside. Children will chase lightning bugs as the adults will slap at mosquitoes. Just about everyone gets a chance to see the sun set.

It's a good world waiting for us outside our heads--and for a few wonderful hours, our culture will unplug itself and celebrate a country that still exists in our heads and in Norman Rockwell paintings, but that once existed for real.

It can happen again. It's why I teach.

A huge thanks to Tom Hoffman for pointing me to Alan Kay's take on teaching science.

"All representation systems we use...are ultimately hermetic."

Every teacher, every administrator, every parent, every student needs to read Alan Kay's response to someone gushing over software that "teaches" children how scientists think, posted here at Tuttle SUV.

You can see the original exchange here.

I strongly urge you to spend some time looking through Tom Hoffman's other posts as well, though Tuttle SVC, like fine whiskey, may not be suitable for children.

Mr. Duncan, welcome to the blogosphere

Mr. Arne Duncan, alas, may be a lightweight. I keep clicking my glittery ruby slippers hoping otherwise, but he's the Scarecrow trapped in Oz--friendly, ingratiating, and maddeningly capable of holding contrary opinions.

Ah, yes, the Arne Listening and Learning tour--he listened and he learned, he listened some more, and learned even more. He started a blog, displaying his technological prowess. And after weeks and weeks of listening, he grasped a subtle point. The people do not like the No Child Left Behind, and uttered "The name 'No Child Left Behind' is toxic."

Wrinkling his brow under his felt farmer's hat, Arne thought and thought. "Ha! We shall no longer call it the NCLB!" And with a stroke of his pen the name and the logos disappeared. The little red school house was torn down. The NCLB was no more!

Still, some were not satisfied. Did he not display magnificent listening ability? Did he not end NCLB as we know it?

He thought and he listened and listened and thought--he put his chin in his hand, he furrowed his brow, he smiled his Scarecrow smile, and still the people were not satisfied.

Do they not think I am listening? I will prove that I am listening! I will respond to my blog!

He read and he read, and he read some more--he stumbled upon an entry by Mr. Kyle Brenner, a history teacher in Texas. Mr. Brenner entered his comment back in mid-May--Tuesday Arne called him.^*

Arne spent 8 minutes (almost 500 seconds!) chatting with Mr. Brenner using another high tech device, the telephone.

The people rejoiced! He does listen! The US DOE issued a press release commemorating this historic moment. Education Week, "American education's newspaper of record," (they say so themselves) trumpeted the news!

Arne Duncan Really Does Listen!

OK, I added the exclamation point....

***

Had Arne wanted real discourse, a quick note on the blog by himself or one of his staffers would have sufficed. Even without a press release.

Arne, here's how it works--you post, folks comment, you respond. On the blog. Publicly. The phone call is a nice touch, and two bonus points if you Skyped, but without a transcript, all we know is what your press trumpets.

That's not public policy. That's the cult of personality. And you're not Dorothy.

***

At least some of Duncan's supporters know how to do this.

Enter Tom Vander Ark, a " long-time friend and supporter of Duncan's" and partner of VA/K (Vander Ark/Ratcliff).

Mr. Vander Ark prides himself on being the first business executive to serve as a public school superintendent. He was the Executive Director of Education for the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. Shucks, "Newsweek readers voted Vander Ark the most influential baby boomer in education" back in 2006. He's got mojo.

Like any good friend, he's got Arne's back

Someone at his firm likes to drop notes into blogs such as The Perimeter Primate. The Perimeter Primate is a mother and a parent coordinator who has children in public school. She's bright and can think on her own, both admirable qualities in a democracy.

A couple of weeks ago she wrote a feisty, well-researched post on Arne's background "Duncan, Robber Barons, and Victims." Someone named edreformer took offense:

Can't say you are really adding to the debate with this... Please lower the venom level and consider dropping the personal attacks.

edreformer linked himself to Vander Ark's firm.

Was it Tom Vander Ark himself? No way to know. I read Tom's blog yesterday--he's "cautiously optimistic about Green Dot-style charter conversations [sic] of failing secondary schools." He also said that he was "thankful for an Education Secretary that gets it (and is trying hard to get it done)."

I was going to ask him what he meant by "conservations of failing secondary schools", but I didn't want to annoy him too much before asking what I did ask:

I’d be interested to know what you mean when you say our Education Secretary “gets it.”

I’d also be curious to know if he’s a client of VA/R.

That comment is still awaiting moderation, and may still be waiting when water solidifies in Hell. SEE UPDATE BELOW.

If Tom Vander Ark is a true friend of Arne's, working from the goodness of his heart, he might consider pulling Arne aside, explaining to him how blogging works. He might even write a comment or two for his buddy.

If Tom is a proponent of open, honest discussion, he might consider telling edreform to knock off hit-and-run comments and instead urge him to engage in discussion. A good start would be using his real name.

Or maybe he's playing the Scarecrow's friend, the Cowardly Lion.

Yes, I know that the stated theorem is wrong--I was quoting the Scarecrow.
The photo is from the US DOE website--the mangled cartoon bubble is mine.
The pensive chin in his hand Arne is from the AP, credit Charles Rex Arbogast/AP Photo

^*The Pony Express got things across the country in just 10 days back in 1860--just sayin'

UPDATE: Mr. Vander Ark has responded to my comment on his blog--Mr. Duncan does not use VA/R.

Not a client, just a great guy trying to do the right thing.
We’ve been talking about standards and accountability for 20 years and few officials-appointed or elected-have had the courage to make tough calls. Over the 10 years that I’ve know him, I appreciate that Arne has always has the best interest of kids in mind.
He’s hiring great folks and approaching the challenge thoughtfully.

Mr. Tom Vander Ark at his blogsite

I'd venture that the errors in the response speak for themselves--looks like the standards and accountability came a generation too late for some of us.

(OK, picking on errors in a blog post does up the "venom level." Judging by the errors on his professional website--besides those on his blog---it's just as well Mr. Duncan does not rely on Vander Ark to serve as his flak.)


UPDATE 2: I attempted to post on Duncan's blog yesterday. I realize it needs moderator approval, but a post newer than mine has hit the comments. I did not save it because it did not occur to me it would not be posted (it fell within the guidelines), and because, well, I'm an idiot.

Communion

Our neighbor's father died last night after a brief but ravaging illness.

The usual laughter rising over the fence has been missing the last few weeks, and I suspect it will be some time before it returns.

An earlier thunderstorm cleaned the air, as they do in Jersey, and the azure dusk sky marked the last few hours of June. My tiny pond was already wrapped in gray shadows, everything but the sky bled of color except for the occasional cool fire of a lightning bug.

The end of June marks the start of the dying of the light, punctuated by the mourning next door.

I turned to go back inside, then turned back again. I did not want June to end.

On top of the stockade fence separating our yards is a small platform I built a couple of years ago, a place for my potted plants to grab a little more light. (A maple tree keeps growing, and my garden now falls under its shade.)

A forgotten prickly pear sits in a cracked pot--I've had it for years, given to me by a friend I've not chatted with in a long while. After winter the plant looks dead, shriveled, and every year it surprises me.

I gazed up over the fence to catch the last blue light of the fading sky, and my eye caught a hint of yellow on top of the fence.

The prickly pear had flowered, first time ever.

I can hypothesize about the why. I can postulate that the extra light the cactus now gets triggered some photoperiodic phenomenom. I could look up some articles on the internet to sate my curiosity.

But I won't.

I know this much--an good man who has led a good life dies, and before the next sunset, a cactus that felt the vibrations of the man's voice bloomed.

I also know that the flesh of this cactus holds some of the carbon that once flowed in this man's blood--parts of the flower came from inside his mitochondria, in the deepest cells in his body when he still breathed.Literally.

I have my own private beliefs concerning this particular cactus blooming this particular hour.

It's easy to watch the symphony of life outside, as though we're not part of all this, as though we're special, immortal.

We are not.

I need to call the person who broke off the cactus pad years ago, plopped it on a pot, and assured me it would grow. June is almost gone. It's later than I realize.

Prickly pear photo by the EPA, 1972, in the public domain via the National Archives.