Two Sides of Social Justice

Yesterday I read an action research project by an inner-city Chicago teacher.  In a unit about social justice, she encouraged her class of twenty-five first and second-graders to think about fairness and compassion, and they responded accordingly:

If I were President I would tell the builders who build houses for rich people to build the homeless houses and I would give them food and a car.

If I were President I would take care of lots of people. People would have 3 day weekends. There would be no school for a week.

If I were President I would give money to school and help all the people in the world improve their schools.

If I were President I would make things good.  I would love the world and I would buy anything for kids and I would get people homes.

Part of me read these sentiments with a great deal of cynicism.  How sad that these children view government as a benevolent, even indulgent caretaker – that rather than giving people freedom to live their lives, they wanted the President to bestow material comfort upon them. 

The Occupy Wall Street seems, at its core, to have a similar idea: they want to stop the most successful people in society from continuing to be successful by spending their money on the foolish and hapless masses who have financially gotten in over their heads.  This (besides the pretentions of activism and the lack of hygiene and decorum) keeps me from being too enthusiastic about their mission and the press that’s glued to it.

So I was pretty shocked, later that evening, to read the following in the Psalms:

Why dost thou stand afar off, O Lord?
Why dost thou hide Thyself in times of trouble?
In arrogance the wicked hotly pursue the poor;
let them be caught in the schemes which they have devised.
For the wicked boasts of the desires of his heart,
and the man greedy for gain curses and renounces the Lord.
In the pride of his countenance the wicked does not seek him;
all his thoughts are, “There is no God.”
His ways prosper at all times;
thy judgments are on high, out of his sight;
as for all his foes, he puffs at them.
He thinks in his heart, “I shall not be moved;
throughout all generations I shall not meet adversity.”
His mouth is filled with cursing and deceit and oppression;
under his tongue are mischief and iniquity.
He sits in ambush in the villages;
in hiding places he murders the innocent.
His eyes stealthily watch for the hapless,
he lurks in secret like a lion in his covert;
he lurks that he may seize the poor,
he seizes the poor when he draws him into his net.
The hapless is crushed, sinks down,
and falls by his might.
He thinks in his heart, “God has forgotten,
he has hidden his face, he will never see it.”
Arise, O Lord; O God, lift up Thy hand;
forget not the afflicted.

If God’s not too good to care for the poor, maybe we should think about doing the same.

You Heard it Here First!

No sooner did I call Michelle Rhee an anomaly amid an archaic, ailing school system, than she resigned her position as chancellor of DC schools.  (Mayor Adrian Fenty, who hired her, was voted out of office several weeks ago after aggressive campaigning by aggreived teachers' union, so it hadn't looked good for her even then.) 

I wish I were less cynical, but when I read about her racial "divisiveness" amid a city that is mostly black, I can only hope that this is a step forward and not what it looks like: a petty foray into the murky, racially-troubled past.  People, why can't we move past this?!

The Times staff, nevertheless, appears upbeat:

A Colorado state senator, Mike Johnston, who like Ms. Rhee is also a Teach for America alumnus, said her work had inspired hundreds of young people to work for education change.

“Maybe Michelle’s greatest contribution is that she is no longer an anomaly,” Mr. Johnston said.

Here's one instance in which I'd love to be wrong.

Waiting For Superman: Part II

Well, I didn't make it to see the movie last Thursday.  The rain that shut down school early also flooded enough of downtown Baltimore that I worried about getting stuck there, and starting the next day I had another nonstop week full of students and classes and one glorious but exhausting field trip.

And all of a sudden, yesterday morning, I realized I had nothing to do!  Rob was at an all-day bikeathon, so I called my friend Laura to see if she'd come with me.  It was a perfect day to walk around by the harbor and pretend we actually lived in a high-rise condos and ate at Oceanaire and Charleston every night.  As much as I love my little patch of earth in the suburbs, there's something very attractive about the city lifestyle.  Everything feels more exciting there, more immediate, more colorful and accessible and real.

Does it seem like I'm putting off talking about the movie?  Maybe I am.  It was very difficult to watch.  There were only a handful of people in the theater with us, and each of us, more than once, gasped or groaned or sniffled audibly.  It's not a good date movie, and it's not a good movie for a teacher to watch on a Sunday night. Or, maybe, ever.  I had trouble even telling friends about it without getting choked up.

The sad truth is that America's schools are in trouble, and no one wants to talk about it.  We know this.  We've seen the statistics that place us near the bottom of the literacy pool in developed nations.  The goals we set for No Child Left Behind are far out of reach; around 30% proficiency in math and reading for most states, and the goal is 100% in the next two years.  Despite the fact that we continue to pour money, time and resources into the system, we consistently fail to educate our children even passably.

The film makes it clear that there are two obstacles standing in the way of better education: first, teachers' unions, which refuse to make any distinction between effective and ineffective members, which insist on tenure for all after an average of two years in the classroom, and which will not agree to merit-based pay or removal from the system if the teacher is spectacularly good or awful; second, the bureaucracy that runs the school system, which consists of federal funding, state funding, local funding and independent school boards, each with its own agenda and set of rules.  Between these two behemoths, it's a miracle if any improvement is allowed to occur anywhere; someone like Michelle Rhee is an anomaly, the result of a loophole that can't last long (and, in fact, despite the extent of the positive change she has wrought, her job is now very much in jeopardy.)  Here's Rhee's sound logic:

For too long, we have let teacher hiring and retention be determined by archaic rules involving seniority and academic credentials. The widespread policy of "last in, first out" (the teacher with the least seniority is the first to go when cuts have to be made) makes it harder to hold on to new, enthusiastic educators and ignores the one thing that should matter most: performance.

A 7-year-old girl won't make it to college someday because her teacher has two decades of experience or a master's degree -- she will make it to college if her teacher is effective and engaging and compels her to reach for success. By contrast, a poorly performing teacher can hold back hundreds, maybe thousands, of students over the course of a career. Each day that we ignore this reality is precious time lost for children preparing for the challenges of adulthood.

The glacial process for removing an incompetent teacher -- and our discomfort as a society with criticizing anyone who chooses this noble and difficult profession -- has left our school districts impotent and, worse, has robbed millions of children of a real future.

There isn't a business in America that would survive if it couldn't make personnel decisions based on performance. That is why everything we use in assessing teachers must be linked to their effectiveness in the classroom and focused on increasing student achievement.

The whole article isn't long and is worth reading.  And after a day of being stuck in a major funk, it started to make me feel less depressed and more optimistic.  If people are making movies like this, creating websites like this, and losing their jobs over this, maybe we're on the way to a better system.  For now, I'm going the way of Harriet Ball, who is profiled in the film and on its website as a super-teacher, one of the heroes of the education world:

Q: What can teachers do, right now, to help improve the system?

A: Watch other teachers who are doing well. Give up your planning time and lunchtime and meet up with somebody who's willing to let you observe them. Keep asking until you find answers. Don't give up if that's your dream. If you want to be a teacher -- baby, teaching is a job. Close your door and teach those kids.

Axios!  Amen!

Is Smoking Sinful?

Talk about a loaded question.  It's one about which I've often wondered, being a lifelong Christian and an occasional smoker.

Yes, it's bad for you.  So is eating at McDonald's.  And if done in moderation, it's probably even less bad for you than McDonald's, especially if you're smoking anything other than unfiltered tobacco cigarettes.

Society has certainly demonized it, and as a borderline libertarian (who voted for Obama -- hey, at this point I might as well alienate all of my readers) I tend to come down hard on the other side.  I think secondhand smoke is largely a myth.  I certainly think bars, restaurants and other private businesses should be able to decide for themselves whether to allow smoking on the premises. But that's all politics and personal freedom, and the Church doesn't care much for either.

My good friend Pastor Toby Sumpter recently posted about this issue, and I have to say, it's one of the most thoughtful and balanced perspectives I've ever read on the subject.  He primarily addresses the students of his parish and school, but then broadens his argument to include all of us:

If 9 out of 10 of your elders, pastors, and teachers would frown at it, why do it? Aren't we called to love? And love not only covers multitudes of sins, it looks for ways to die for others. Ordinarily, in our culture, cigarettes are self-serving and the only other people thankful for your indulgence are your friends who also know deep down (or not so deep down) that dad would really not be pleased with this. Is that love?

I'm still not sure what I think.  But it's a pretty compelling argument: Christianity is about sacrificing for others, not doing what we want and forcing them into acceptance.  St. Paul, in 1 Corinthians: "But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumbling-block to them that are weak." (8:9)  Just as interesting is the question of whether it's morally wrong for a non-Christian to smoke for similar reasons -- his own autonomy versus the pain and distress inflicted on those he loves.  Some people quit lifelong habits out of deference to their parents or spouses, and I'd like to think it's not just because the nagging wore them down.

Anyone want to jump in with their two cents?  You thought I'd never ask?

Remember the Ladies.

So said Abigail Adams in her famous letter to her husband, the President: "Remember all men would be tyrants if they could."

As husbands are wont to do, he laughed her off, saying, "We know better than to repeal our masculine systems."

My American Lit class read this the other day, and rather than take it as an opportunity to talk about women's rights (the obvious answer, and one I am frankly sick of hearing about) I wanted to discuss the honorable tradition of speaking out about a cause, even if it's nearly hopeless that anything would happen.  I assigned them a brief reflection: write a letter to the President asking him to remember the __________, inserting the name of a group they thought needed an advocate.

Their answers were fascinating.  They wrote about abused children and animals, teenagers ("We get a bad rap -- give us a break!") and the middle class ("Some of us are just trying to make a decent living.")  They shared their outrage and despair quite willingly.  It was a good discussion.

I didn't answer the question in front of them; I prefer not to let my opinions influence the direction of their thought, even though we frequently disagree.  But I'm sure you know what I would have said.  Remember the Armenians.  Because you promised to. Because genocide will not go away.  Because I'd really like to prove Hitler wrong.