Thoughts on Capsule Night--and a Wish

Capsule Night--not sure where the name came from--in some schools it is called Curriculum Night.

First of all, it's fabulous. Fabulous to see the teachers. (I kind of wish they did it each semester.) Fabulous to get a sense of my child's day, and at least create a mental map of where he is in each class. How many stairs does he climb every day?

Second of all, it's fun to see the parents--the ones I know, the ones I don't know. It made me realize I miss a lot of people whom I used to see regularly, back in elementary school. Next year, can we pair capsule night with some social time for parents at a coffee shop or bar? (Or in the school...)

Third of all, even though the classes are, like, 12 minutes each, I felt like I was sitting all too long! (Which is really funny, because mostly, I sit at a computer in my day job...)

Fourth of all--I was struck by how much access to computers teachers are requiring. And I wondered--if we didn't have more than one computer at our house--and/or if we had more than one child in high school now--that could potentially be a big problem. The technology divide seems to get bigger. And it's a lot more computer work than I remember from my two older kids. Which really makes me wonder--how much of that is necessary? Because exacerbating a technology divide is not a good thing.

Last, but not least, a wish:

Every year when I walk into the math class at Capsule Night, it reminds me that I wish the school district would offer a free evening class in every middle school and high school for parents, on how to use a graphing calculator. I'm sure it's not hard, but we didn't use them back when I took Algebra...or Geometry...or Trig....or Calculus. You know, back when the dinosaurs were alive.


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Choosing A Kindergarten, Ready for Graduation: Looking at the "Long Haul"

As I've written about before, when my oldest son was ready for kindergarten, I was choosing between the local Hebrew Day School, our local public school, and Ann Arbor Open.

On the side of the Hebrew Day School: all-day kindergarten; small classes; an immersion language curriculum; and a school that was willing to let us sit in on classes and observe.

On the side of Ann Arbor Open: multi-age classrooms; progressive education; and the requirement to volunteer and observe a classroom.

On the side of our local public school: basically, nothing, even though it has a stellar reputation, because I had myself experienced and loved "open" education. It had the same negatives as Ann Arbor Open (half-day kindergarten and larger class sizes than the private school) and--in my opinion--none of the positives. I couldn't sit in on a class there, and kindergarten roundup was very unsatisfying.

To round things out, my husband was a strong public schools proponent and thought we should try the public schools first.

That was then...

In any case, I was reminded of this the other day when I heard someone say they were choosing between a private school or the new Northside STEAM program but were wondering about who the teachers would be at the STEAM school.

[Funny--I just realized I was never worried about the teacher quality at any of the schools I considered.]

I was giving the biggest weight to the full-day kindergarten.

One day I was talking to my colleague Cheryl, whose kids went to the Open School and were much older (like, fifth or sixth grade!)--and she said,

"Ruth, kindergarten is only eight months long. 

You have to look at the long haul!"

And so I did. 

That was the best advice I ever got about choosing a school. If you don't want to be someone whose kids change school every year or two, then you need to think about the long haul.

Gabe and me: This is now!

Maybe because that conversation is embedded in my mind, it's hard to believe that this weekend, the little kid I was worried about then graduated from college.

Time flies when you're having fun!

(Just for fun: You can read a piece Gabe let me publish a few years ago when he was still in high school.)






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Love, Michigan (=)

It's a New Day in Michigan. Read Judge Bernard Friedman's excellent ruling here.

My friends' daughter holds her moms' wedding rings
during their ceremony today (Saturday, 3/22/2014). The hands, of course,
are every Michigander's symbol of Michigan.

IV. Conclusion 

In attempting to define this case as a challenge to “the will of the people,” Tr. 2/25/14 p. 40, state defendants lost sight of what this case is truly about: people. No court record of this proceeding could ever fully convey the personal sacrifice of these two plaintiffs who seek to ensure that the state may no longer impair the rights of their children and the thousands of others now being raised by same-sex couples. It is the Court’s fervent hope that these children will grow up “to understand the integrity and closeness of their own family and its concord with other families in their community and in their daily lives.” Windsor, 133 S. Ct. at 2694. Today’s decision is a step in that direction, and affirms the enduring principle that regardless of whoever finds favor in the eyes of the most recent majority, the guarantee of equal protection must prevail.

Accordingly, 

IT IS HEREBY DECLARED that Article I, § 25 of the Michigan Constitution and its
implementing statutes are unconstitutional because they violate the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution.

Today, at the Washtenaw County Clerk's Office, Clerk Lawrence Kestenbaum had posted this sign: 

I especially appreciated this part of Judge Friedman's ruling:

Taking the state defendants’ position to its logical conclusion, the empirical evidence at hand should require that only rich, educated, suburban-dwelling, married Asians may marry, to the exclusion of all other heterosexual couples. Obviously the state has not adopted this policy and with good reason. The absurdity of such a requirement is self-evident. Optimal academic outcomes for children cannot logically dictate which groups may marry. 

Congratulations!

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Pertussis Warning Hits Home, or My Brush With Fame

Once upon a time, at the end of June, we got a friendly email from the parent of a child my son has spent quite a bit of time with this summer, and it said, in essence:

Andrew (fake name alert!) has pertussis (a.k.a. whooping cough), and your child may have been exposed. Andrew was fully vaccinated, but the vaccine is only about 60% effective. If your child develops a cough, go to the doctor and get tested. 

About ten days later, my son said, "Did you see this email from Andrew? Do you know that I've been coughing since Thursday?" At this point, my son's cough was so mild that we hadn't even really noticed it, but since he was set to go to sleepaway camp later that week, we thought we'd better get it checked out. . . especially since a) we didn't want to expose all those kids at camp and b) if we found out after he was at camp, we'd also have to remove him from camp for five days while he took the antibiotics!

So, off to the doctor we went--and although the doctor was skeptical that this was pertussis (especially since my son was vaccinated), he agreed that we should be cautious and he tested him for it (it's a simple nose swab test). Two days later. . . the test came back positive.  The good news is that because we found out early, his cough was gone in short order, and never entered the "whooping" phase or became very violent. 

And this is completely different from my experience 14 years ago, when my husband's coworker had "the cough that wouldn't end." And then my husband got that cough. And then my daughter got that cough. And eventually, we suspected they had pertussis. But I tried several times (and multiple doctors) to get my daughter tested. At that time, the test was not the one they have today, and it was difficult to get accurate results.  The doctors were reluctant. In any case, we never were counted as a positive case (but I was sure--my daughter had the classic whoop and my husband had the "cough until you're blue" cough.) Both my husband and my daughter were ill for quite a long time, and I am so glad that this time we caught it early.

Lessons Learned

1. Vaccinate. Even though the vaccine is only 60% protective, that's a lot better than nothing!

2. Especially if you have a known exposure (a contact who was diagnosed), or if you--or a child of yours--has a persistent cough, don't be afraid to ask the doctor whether pertussis should be considered. (Yes, adults are often the transmitters of pertussis--and frequently are not diagnosed.)

3. If someone in your family gets pertussis, don't forget to notify all the people you've spent time with, so they can be on the lookout...pertussis spreads in the air.

It turns out that our experience is not unique, because the public health department put out an alert when the number of cases this year went over 100.

And so, it came to pass, that I was asked to be on television this afternoon, to speak as a parent about my family's experiences--and as a service to public health, how could I not? 

So here, you have it--my 15 seconds (more or less) of fame! Thanks ABC News!

Joel's Ann Arbor Open Graduation Speech: Video and Text

A fortnight ago, Ann Arbor Open held its eighth grade graduation. I alluded to it in this post. My son Joel was one of the speakers. I was very proud of the poem he wrote, and he gave me permission to post it. (Thank you Joel!) Unfortunately, I didn't have a video to post. Now I do. Many thanks to Mark for sending me the video he took. If you have a little trouble hearing it, you can read the poem below the video. A few explanatory notes follow the text.

When I Was In Kindergarten 

By Joel Appel-Kraut 

When I was in kindergarten, we would sit by the bookshelf in the classroom and read. We would read until our heads were swirling with all the 5 letter words we didn’t fully understand. When I was in kindergarten, we would stand in front of the stoplight in Char’s room and yell and scream until it turned red. Because some of us went to safety town, so we knew what that meant. 

When I was in 1st grade, we would bring in stuff on 100s day and the kids whose parents let them bring in marshmallows were instantly cool. On occasion, we would get visits from the only Superhero who ever made time for 6 year-olds. When I was in 1st grade, I would cower under the middle schoolers as my siblings told stories about their cute little brother and his golden angel locks. 

When I was in 2nd grade, we would look down on the lowly first graders as if they were our pets. Unless they were on our team in gym. We would marvel at the fact that the science Olympiad teacher was teaching us science. When I was in 2nd grade, even rock paper scissors could not decide who got pentathlon. 

When I was in 3rd grade, we looked up to our CHS buddies as if they were our future, high-school selves. When we went to West Park, a walk down the block was like a time machine, where we could walk the trails like the native-americans who started them. When I was in 3rd grade. We still didn’t have a good way to decide who got pentathlon. 

When I was in 4th grade, we would think of alliterative names for our friend group like fantastic five, or super six. We would engrave the drama in embarrassing recordings that will not be heard ever again. When I was in fourth grade, the CHS buddies didn’t seem quite as tall. We still all wanted pentathlon. 

When I was in 5th grade, we would stress all week about checking out on Friday. We would protest that Rick Hall should not be able to grade our cursive or spelling. How can you tell me that I spelled George wrong when Doover is not even a word. When I was in 5th grade we would have sweet dreams about burning our cursive sheets in a fiery inferno come November. And we would fight about who got pentathlon. 

When I was in 6th grade, we would shrug off checking out as if it were nothing. By 6th grade, we had learned from experience to stay on Ko’s good side during yearbook time. And it was even somewhat sad when Rick put his doover stamp in my yearbook. When I was in 6th grade, we would have sweet dreams about that time we burned our cursive sheets in a fiery inferno last year. And we would laugh at the 5th graders' petty fights about who should get pentathlon. 

When I was in 7th grade, we would commiserate over how we didn’t get the schedule we wanted. We would meet with Allan even though we knew there was nothing we could do. When I was in 7th grade, we thought it was stupid that the eight graders said they should get first choice for Gardening. 

When I was in 8th grade, we would laugh as the 7th graders looked at their schedule to remember it. We turned lunch basketball games into two person dunk contests. When I was in 8th grade, we wanted to get first choice for gardening. 

When I am in High School, I hope to take the lessons I learned here, and apply them every day. I hope to be successful, largely because of this school. When I am In High School and Beyond I hope to be a role model for future kids standing and giving a speech at their 8th grade graduation. 

When I am 100 years old, I hope to sit around a table on the porch and drink ice tea with my friends, many of whom went to this very school. See, when I am 100, I hope to reminisce about the fun we had, the bonds we made, and the things we learned, when I was in Kindergarten.



*pentathlon=an activity in Science Olympiad (for 2nd-5th graders) that utilizes both scientific principles and basketballs, and requires using the gym.
**doover=do over; pronounced as doo-ver.
**CHS buddies=Community High School buddies, a cross-school program
The first names are names of teachers at Ann Arbor Open.

Parents, Schools, and the Personal is Political Question

For a while now I have been following Leonie Haimson (yes, following on twitter and getting her email messages). Leonie Haimson is the executive director of a New York City group called Class Size Matters. Sure, New York City is nothing like Washtenaw County, and New York City has a mayoral control system--which really sucks if you are a parent trying to have some input into the school system!

Still, I'm interested in New York because I'm interested in New York, and obviously. . . most obviously. . . class size does matter. So today Leonie Haimson sent out an email that she titled "A Personal Note," and I want to share it.

Dear parents:

I haven’t written much about myself or my family on my blog or in these newsletters; however, I am doing so now because GothamSchools [ed. note: link] is intent on writing about me, my organization Class Size Matters [ed. note: link], and about the fact that my son entered a private high school this year. I told their reporter Geoff Decker about this in the fall, in the midst of a longer, off the record conversation about many things, and ever since, whenever I have contacted him about possible stories, he has brought up this issue instead of more important ones.  I myself don’t think it is either particularly interesting or relevant, but since he is intent on writing about the situation, and said he intends to compare me to Michelle Rhee, who also sends one of her children to private school, I decided I should explain why I think our situations are quite different.

I had kids in NYC public schools for a total of 15 years; my daughter attended public schools from K-6^th grade; my son K-8^th grade.  My record of advocacy and my continued work in this area should prove my commitment to public school children.  The private schools they attended have the sort of small classes that I believe all children have the right to receive.  It is a parent’s responsibility to find a school that they believe best fits their children’s needs; and for that reason I have never criticized Bloomberg, Bill Gates,  Rhee or anyone for sending their own children to any school, whether private, charter or public. 

So I thought this was really interesting because it mirrors some of the issues I've been thinking about in regards to Washtenaw County schools, in particular in Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor.

In Ann Arbor, when the Community High School lists came up, several people I know immediately began discussing on facebook whether they should look at private schools or other schools. Some of them had older kids in the comprehensive high schools, and some of them didn't, but had heard things they didn't like.

In Ypsilanti, I have several friends and acquaintances who are working hard to make the new Ypsilanti Community Schools a success--they are on committees, they are going to meetings. And yet their children are already in private schools, charter schools, or schools of choice in other districts. We saw this also in the school board candidates for the new YCS school board, some of whom had children in charter schools. All of them desperately want the Ypsilanti Community Schools to be a success. But for their own kids? They felt they needed to make a different choice.

One of them said to me, "I feel guilty, but I don't know what YCS will look like next year, and I had to act now."

Ultimately, we as parents are responsible for our children's education. That is our responsibility, and generally, we don't get do-overs when it comes to our kids' educations.

Ultimately, our individual choices--taken collectively--can harm our efforts for public schools.

Should we judge these choices?

I sort of do. I sort of judge them as making the smart parenting choice. Most of these parents don't come to, or take their, decisions lightly.

I sort of judge them as selling out.

Mostly,  I sort of respect that a parent's gotta do what a parent's gotta do as a parent--even if in the long-term it hurts the work they are trying to do in the larger community.

Yes, the personal is political, but let's not forget that the personal is, first and foremost, personal.

And here Leonie Haimson gets to the key point:

What I have criticized is when powerful and wealthy individuals send their children to schools that feature very small classes, lots of art, music, etc., and little or no standardized testing, but then advocate for an entirely different kind of education for other children.     The evidence is crystal clear that all kids benefit from smaller classes, but especially poor and minority kids, and yet these children are LEAST likely to have access to them. The efforts of the corporate reformers mentioned above who have advocated for increasing class size, especially in large urban districts, while ensuring that their own children are provided with small classes is wrong.  I will continue my life’s work to try to improve the opportunity for all kids to be provided with small classes, as well as adequate and fair funding, an end to high stakes testing, and a voice for parents in decision-making, and to call out hypocrisy wherever I see it.

And guess where we see that hypocrisy? Right here in Michigan, where Governor Snyder is doing the exact same thing.

David Arsen, MSU School of Education professor and school finance expert, takes this on in a terrific (and long) "Open Letter to Governor Snyder." (Read the rest of David Arsen's letter here.) In this excerpt, in the section titled Trust Your Judgment, he writes:

My hunch is that you [Gov. Snyder] have a pretty good sense of what makes for a good school. You had the opportunity to send your own child to excellent public schools [Ann Arbor schools], but chose Greenhills School, a wonderful private school in Ann Arbor. It is selective. The school has attractive facilities and grounds, a student-faculty ratio of eight and an average class size of 17. Greenhills strives to provide a wide range of stimulating and challenging classes. Teachers and administrators take pride in the school’s democratic decision-making; it’s not top-down.
Annual tuition for Greenhills is nearly $20,000, and, as you know better than I, that doesn’t cover all operating costs. If the trend line for Michigan public school revenues looks like a frown, then the one for Greenhills looks a bit more like a smile.
I don’t question your choice. But this is what puzzles me. Students at Greenhills do not take standardized tests until they apply to college. The school’s educators sympathize with their public school colleagues whose professional lives now revolve around tests.
Greenhills does not accept credit for online classes, nor offer classes for credit in the summer. It takes a firm position against students taking courses at other institutions, including colleges or universities, unless they have already taken the school’s most advanced course in a subject. Greenhills students don’t graduate early, but rather all together at a spring commencement. The school is designed around remarkable physical spaces devoted to “forums” for students in each grade to meet, deliberate and socialize.
The school has a thoughtful rationale for these decisions: it wants students to interact with one another and faculty to establish a durable and supportive community. I try to imagine how the families and educators at Greenhills would react if they were forced to operate under the rules embodied in the Oxford proposal and HB 5923.

So whatever your personal choices, let's keep working for those same ideals for all children: small class sizes; public programs; parents being able to work with school officials and professionals; no high-stakes testing.