Crocuses, clams, and the common core

Crocuses here, today, now.

Crocuses in full bloom, I'm smelling like a mudflat with a mess of clams just raked and scrubbed, and the light is returning.

A good day to be human.

Sad thing is, the days I feel most human are the days I most doubt the benefits of a public school system driven top down by a central power influenced by big money.

The things I most enjoy--clamming, singing, drinking home-made mead, and hanging with my best friend--I learned despite school.

I think we all agree kids need to learn to read and write. We pretend to agree that they should know a thing or two about numbers, but if your child has touched a calculator before she's 10, you're doing it wrong.

Clams today, here, now.

Beyond that, I think most would agree that a child should know her history, know who holds power over her, and how the local economy works--though I am not sure the CCSS crowd would concur.

I'm pretty sure that she does not need to know the number of rings in adenine and guanine, quadratic equations, or how many miles we are from the sun.

Not saying she might not pursue all those if they interest her--and we owe it to her to show her how to pursue what she wants to pursue. We just need to make sure it's done well, with faith in our towns, and with fidelity to the truth. Not sure that will prepare a child for the global economy, and I doubt that will lead to success on Wall Street.

If we could do that, democracy would thrive.
Capitalism, at least the form we practice in the States, would collapse like a clubbed baby seal.

So we got the "Common Core" instead, for us commoners. There are a lot of us. We have more power than we know.

Time to do what's right for the child in front of you, for her parents, and for your town, even when (or maybe especially when) it conflicts with the needs of a few folk who do not know your child, and never will.

The Great Famine was neither an act of God nor an act of nature--it was the direct result of centralized power.
We all have similar stories in our histories.
Act like your child matters.