No Excuse to Fail

No Excuse to Fail


In one of my first, real, math teaching assignments, I had a student whose mother was not thrilled with the grade on her son’s first test. She came in on parent-teacher night to discuss this.

Mrs. Parent reassured me that she did not believe this was my fault. She was not blaming me. She was sure that I was intelligent and that some day I would make a fine teacher. However, as I was new, perhaps I had not yet acquired the skills necessary to teach her little Cherub.

Well, I explained to Mrs. Parent, the first test of the year is a review of what the students’ remember from last year. That way I can determine what I need to cover before we can move on. I reassured Mrs. Parent that the first two or three questions were easy questions, to help the students build confidence. To help the students overcome any math anxiety.

Now comes the part where God was with me. (I can say that because this was a Parochial school.) Mrs. Parent came with Mrs. Friend who had Miss Daughter with her. (They went to the daughter’s class first. Either that or Mrs. Parent brought Mrs. Friend with her to be a witness.

I turned to Miss Daughter. I asked, “What grade are you in?”

“Sixth,” she replied.

I put the first question of the test on the board, handed her the chalk, and asked her to solve the problem. She did.

I turned to Mrs. Parent and said, “Now, your friend’s daughter solved that problem and she is only in the sixth grade. In addition, this is the beginning of the year, so they did not get to that material yet; which means she learned it in the fifth grade; and, your friend’s daughter did not know there was going to be a test tonight, so she did not have a chance to study. There is no excuse for your son getting that problem wrong.”

Mrs. Parent thanked me, took the test, folded it up, and they all left. Mrs. Friend and Miss Daughter went out the door, Mrs. Parent, under the woodwork.

I did not humiliate Mrs. Parent. Miss Daughter did not humiliate Mrs. Parent; the little Cherub did not humiliate his mother. Mrs. Parent humiliated herself when she came into my classroom and began the meeting with an empowerment and dignity festival to reassure me she was not blaming me, and proceeded to explain her son’s performance by fabricating a lack of ability to teach on my part.

I have often said, “It is the teacher’s job to teach; but that is all the teacher can do. Learning is the student’s responsibility.”

The following morning Little Cherub wanted to know what I had said to his mother. I started to tell him. He was not listening.

“My parents had me up till three o’clock in the morning. My parents were all over my case. My parents didn’t cut me no slack. (“Any slack”—he wasn’t listening.) My parents didn’t cut me no slack.”

Epilogue:

This student turned out to be, let us say, one of my top three students. The embarrassment his mother was subjected to (REMEMBER WHAT I HAD SAID ABOUT PEER PRESSURE? IT APPLIES TO PARENTS AS WELL.) was all Mrs. Parent needed to hold her son responsible for his grades. Moreover, he not only met the challenge, he exceeded it.

Regards,

Slim

PS. I am not Paul Harvey.  Still, I am open to becoming a paid blogger, columnist, or commentator.

In the meantime, if anyone finds the monographs on my blog to be especially helpful, please do not hesitate to send me on of those tricked out laptops and few dollars tucked into the envelope with the thank you note.

Sincerely  

Slim

Mail slimfairview@yahoo.com

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

(On a personal note: If you have any doubts about raising children, contact John Rosemond, the professional http://rosemond.com He knows what he’s talking about.) www.rosemond.com

How many parents want their children to get the appearance of an education?

How many parents want their children to get the appearance of an education?


To follow up on a previous article, I am now a teacher. I teach 7th and 8th grade math. Children have math anxiety; pressure from their parents; and pressure they place on themselves. This, I found, was easy enough to deal with.

On the way home one Friday, I stopped in a stationery store. I bought a box of gold stars. Not those chump size stars, the big ones.

As I reviewed my students’ work, graded papers, and entered grades in my book, I looked for the best paper each student had submitted. I put a big gold star on the top, I wrote a very positive comment next to it in red ink.

On Monday, I handed out the papers. Some of the students went through them. One student said, “Hey, I got a gold star on my paper.” Another said, “How come I got a gold star on my paper?” Another said, “I got one too!”

I said, “Relax, everyone. Let me explain what I did.”

I explained to my class that I took the best paper each student submitted, put a gold star on top, and wrote something nice in red ink. Then I told them what I wanted them to do.

“I want you to take your papers home and say, ‘Look, I got a gold star on my paper.’ Now, what your parents are going to do, is look at the paper, tell you how proud they are of you, and maybe not get on your case so much. That way, when you come to class you won’t be so filled with math anxiety. You’ll be more relaxed and I will have an easier time teaching, and you will have an easier time learning.”

There was dead silence for less than a heartbeat. Then the class broke out in laughter. They got the joke.

Epilogue:

Tuesday, I asked my class how it went. They all had positive comments to share. I said, “Good. Now your parents won’t be getting on Sister’s case, Sister won’t be getting on my case, your parents won’t be getting on your case, and we can all relax, have a good time, enjoy math, and you’ll learn a lot more.

Regards,

Slim

PS. I am not Paul Harvey.  Still, I am open to becoming a paid blogger, columnist, or commentator.

In the meantime, if anyone finds the monographs on my blog to be especially helpful, please do not hesitate to send me on of those tricked out laptops and few dollars tucked into the envelope with the thank you note.

Sincerely  

Slim

Mail slimfairview@yahoo.com

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Cable News is Where America Lives or The Transmogrification (Yes, transmogrification) of the Media

Cable News is Where America Lives or The Transmogrification (Yes, transmogrification) of the Media

Recently a Whitehouse Press Secretary alleged that Cable News is not where America lives. Can I accept that? No. Why not? I can’t accept that because the broadcast media is moving in the same direction as newspapers that are moving in the same direction as the blogosphere. In the blogosphere, amateur news providers, paid on the basis of traffic, are writing to the market. What is the hot topic? Write about that. Generate revenue. Broadcast media, the information provider, looks for the biggest bang for its buck–in a 30 minute or 60 minute broadcast. The only difference is that with broadcast media the network generates its own “metaphorical” blog posts.

As broadcast television is losing viewers, networks are looking for new and exciting ways to attract viewers. They are open to all suggestions except the most important one; the admonition from marketing professors. “Marketing means: ‘find a need and fill it.’” But the marketing people are spending too much time wallowing in advertising. Here is the difference:

If you have an empty glass, the advertising man tries to sell you a glass: an old glass, a new glass, a red glass, a blue glass; a short glass a tall glass, a big glass, a small glass. (Apologies to Dr. Seuss) The marketing people know that if you have an empty glass, you are in need of a tall, cool, refreshing soft drink. In my case, that means a caffeine-free, diet Pepsi. (Ironic: when I’ve reached the age that I really need the sugar and caffeine to keep me going, I’ve started drinking caffeine-free, sugar-free soft drinks.) But I digress. Still, marketing has capitulated to advertising.

Another mistake broadcast media people make is in trying to attract viewers who don’t watch television; an important demographic to be sure. To do this, they cancel programs watched by people who watch television and replace them with shows they hope will appeal to people who don’t watch television. Are ratings going up or down? Down? Duh!

The failure extends, of course to the newsroom. People watch the news because they want the news. The advantage that television has over a newspaper is that we can see more things happening. Instead, however, we listen to too much talk. We don’t need someone to read the news to us. We can do that. Run the teleprompter and let us read the news ourselves. That method will be faster and more informative. Then, to make matters worse, after the anchor announces the story, he cuts to the field reporter who repeats the story, then interviews someone at the scene who confirms the story, and back we go to the anchor desk for a summation of the story. Ho-hum.

Another downfall of broadcast media is the group-think reporting. How often does a person have to sit in front of a television set, with a remote, making the rounds among the evening news broadcasts to realize that broadcasters seem to report the same stories?

Newspapers seem to be suffering from a similar affliction. Let the truth be told. Newspapers are in the advertising business. They sell advertising space to the advertisers and they sell advertisements to the readers. However, because the public won’t buy advertising, the newspapers give the news away as an inducement to buy the advertisements. Such is print journalism.

Newspapers, are also suffering from a drop in viewers (readers). They too have suffered at their own hands. In an attempt to attract readers, (Aside from offering cents-off coupons now provided by almost all newspapers, including, of all journals, The New York Times) newspapers seem to be hiring people with English degrees instead of Journalism degrees. Remember the aphorism: Who, What, When, Where, Why in the first paragraph. Not anymore. Now, instead of journalism we get…uh…prose; prose analogous to the prose of the Bourgeois Gentleman. “Look, Ma, I’m a reporter.” (“Go West, young man”—Horace Greeley)

After the Times strike of 1997, I read an article about the economy of Argentina. The first third of the article challenged the reader to figure out what the article was about. The second third of the article told us. The final third of the article drew no conclusions. Mercifully, two-thirds of the middle column was taken up by a picture of an oil tanker. As with the info-mercials, “oil tankers, not unlike the one in this photo, sit idle off-shore rusting away.” I had hopes that this might be an ad for a product that would help me restore my lawn furniture. Then again, I didn’t have any metal lawn furniture. The Argentinean economy has always been resilient. The Argentinean economy has suffered ups and down. The problem may be that during boom times there is insufficient capital investment—reinvestment in capital improvements. But that is another article.

Next we come to the blogosphere. Again, we are market focused. What is the hot topic? What ranks high in search engines? What is hip, trendy, now, together, happening? I wish I knew. I’d find a place for it in this article and rise to Google nirvana. Desolé. (That’s French. As Andy Capp once said, “It adds polish to me conversation.”) The difference between the blogosphere and newspapers is that newspapers give the illusion of veracity. We assume an editor, or fact checker, checks the article before it is published. Perhaps that’s true. The Times has a public editor to restore confidence in the paper. What The Times needs is an editor. (A white horse is not a horse—Old Chinese Saying.): “Great Caesar’s Ghost. Jimmy Olsen, when I assign a story I want news. Not an essay about what you did on your summer vacation. Now go rewrite this story. And don’t call me, Chief!”

Still, Insofar as I like to see myself as an open-minded person who embraces an analytic approach to reaching conclusions, I indulge myself the luxury of enjoying all the media has to offer. I do read four newspapers a day—five on Sunday. I go on-line to indulge in what the broadcast media has to offer, and I watch cable news. Read: CNN. I do not, however, flatter my pretensions by embracing the luxury of personal opinions based on idol conjecture based on factoids reported by the tabloid media)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Cable Media, (The place where America purportedly doesn’t live.) has the luxury of going more in depth on a topic and providing a more diverse range of opinions. On Cable News TV, the audience can find reporters and commentators who either express and reinforce their own opinions, or express opposite opinions challenging the viewers to think.

Conclusion? Cable news covers a broad range of topics; has the luxury of going in depth on a story; provides photos and videos; offers commentary from reporters across the political spectrum; and offers viewers the opportunity to go on-line and read for themselves what they may choose not to have told to them. Cable News is Where America Lives. Don’t tell me no.—Slim Fairview.

Copyright 2010 Slim Fairview

Teachers Aren't Allowed to Teach Anymore

Teachers Aren't Allowed to Teach Anymore



Before majoring in education or working full-time as a teacher, I accepted a one day substitute assignment for the 5th grade. Soon, I was called back to take over the same class. When the teacher had the opportunity to travel to England with her husband for several weeks, she needed a leave of absence. The teacher and the principal agreed: I would take over the class. That is what I consider a proper endorsement.

As the students already knew me, we’d already broken the ice. Still, perhaps they were a little overly relaxed. That can lead to discipline problems. It almost did.

I had three 10 year old students, close friends, who liked to talk. Sometimes, it seemed they’d forgotten they were in school. Or that I was the teacher. That situation had to be dealt with immediately or the assignment would be a disaster.

I knew that I could not use discipline. That would create a confrontation and as I was only a temporary teacher, the students had nothing to lose by challenging my authority.

I knew that I could not “get them on my side”. They were the students, I was the teacher.

The solution: peer pressure.

I took a quick count of the number of students (25) and threw the class off guard. I asked if they wanted to change the seating. Instead of rows, we could do a great, big semi-circle. They could sit in two’s. They could choose their own partners. However, to add to my credibility, I told them the main rule: They had to promise to behave. If they fooled around with their neighbors then I would change the seating and I would choose the neighbors. They promised, enthusiastically, to be good.

The first step was to let the class know that there was an odd number and one student would have to sit with two others. I made that offer to the three cherubs I dubbed “Charley’s Angels”.

I volunteered the boys to move their desks and chair to the middle of the semi-circle, then I let the rest of the class move their desks. Soon it was time for a bathroom break.

Charlie’s Angels, why don’t you start us off? The rest of the class, you may line up. I needn’t tell you how well that went over with the rest of the class. After that, it was time for snacks.

Charlie’s Angels, why don’t you get your snacks from the cupboard? When they returned to their desks, I let “the rest of the class, go get your snacks”: planned pandemonium. After that, it was time for recess.

Charlie’s Angel’s, why don’t you get your coats and line up for recess? (Each time Charlie’s Angels went to the cupboard, I had one of the boys open the door.) All right class, go get your coats—planned pandemonium!

I followed that routine when we lined up for lunch and when we lined up to go home. Then, the following morning, I proceeded to follow the same routine. However, it didn’t work out for me. Before recess, Charlie’s Angels came up to my desk to tell me, “We don’t want to be Charlie’s Angels anymore. We want to be treated like everyone else.”

I, of course, was shocked, shocked (!) to hear that. “I thought you were friends.” I said. “I thought you wanted to be treated special,” I asked. Alas, I was wrong.

So, I stood up and announced to the class that Charlie’s Angels didn’t want to be Charlie’s Angels anymore; they wanted to be treated like everyone else. The class applauded and cheered. Problem solved.

Not anymore. Today, that sort of favoritism would be frowned upon if a teacher so much as dared to think about solving such a big problem with such a simple and effective solution. Complaints would be lodged; explanations would be demanded—and rejected. Rights (or the denial of same) would be invoked. Catastrophe!

Not then. Then, all went smoothly, too smoothly. I enrolled in an accelerated program to obtain my teaching certificate. However, I failed to think things through. I’d been teaching in Parochial school. Parochial schools barely pay a subsistence wage and I needed a real job with a real salary. What about public schools? Public schools were then, as they are now, at the forefront of capitulating to the “experts” who caused the problems that they are now trying to solve; who cause the problems they can’t solve; who could solve the problems by not causing them in the first place; but that is too simple. Perhaps we could dub them Charlie’s Angels and invoke the acrimony of all against them. No. That won’t work. Too many people are happy to see the children getting the appearance of an education. But that is another report.

Regards,

Slim

PS. I am not Paul Harvey.  Still, I am open to becoming a paid blogger, columnist, or commentator.

In the meantime, if anyone finds the monographs on my blog to be especially helpful, please do not hesitate to send me on of those tricked out laptops and few dollars tucked into the envelope with the thank you note.

Sincerely  

Slim

Mail slimfairview@yahoo.com

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

How Mr. Yakamoto Saved Face

Slim Fairview
slimfairview@yahoo.com
1000 words
Copyright (c) 2011

How Mr. Yakamoto Saved Face
A Morality Tale
by
Slim Fairview


All his life, Mr.Yakamoto lived in his small village. He was a widower with one son. He was considered wise and was well respected as was his honourable father and his honourable grandfather.

How Mr. Yakamoto Saved Face--A Morality Tale is available at Amazon.com

Thank you.

Sincerest regards,

Slim