End of school year-itus

It could be called "senior-itus". Or, "just can't wait to get out of school for the summer-itus", if you don't happen to be a senior. But, there is something mighty prevalent at and around the schools these days.

Concentration is difficult. There are all these special occasion activities disrupting the normal flow. Normal Flow? Out the window.

I know we only have a month left of school but this started as soon the the WASL was finished.

WASL is what our state calls the big gargantuan standardized test that each school's performance is tied to. It takes 2 full weeks. And, after the hype and the stress and then the relief, it is nearly impossible to get the kid brains focused back on the business at hand.

Unless of course the business at hand is to kill time until summer vacation.

It's like the kids have already moved onto the next grade, at least, mentally. Maybe it is really hitting me this year because there is all this transition stuff going on about the oldest going to middle school next year.

They are all a little bit more squirrelly than usual. Sort of like they see the end of the tunnel and are making a mad sprint for it. Day light lasts making bed times hard to keep. Good weather, if we are lucky enough to have any, would make it hard to come inside at all; let alone do homework, practice violin, pull together the library books that are over due, etc.

It is only a month more but it is a hell of a month! Somewhere in there, we need to pull together a Night of the Notables report and corresponding presentation board on Groucho Marx. Countless "end of year" parties and strangely a birthday party every other weekend from here on out. Man, the calendar is getting really tight.

And, to be perfectly honest, I am getting a little summer-itus myself. Not like its a vacation for me but I have caught it too!

So, here's to the sprint to the finish. Pace yourself folks! We are going to need our energy for the next round.

This is why I blog about my kids...

...to make it easier to remember the little things; the day to day, small stuff of life. I write my blog so that I can share it with my kids someday when they care enough and so that I can relive it for myself. You know. Completely selfish reasons.

Thanks for sharing in it. Check out this wonderful essay. She says it so well.

Hat tip to gal pal, Judith, for sending it to me!

by Anna Quindlen

If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they ever existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the black button eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow ringlets and the high piping voice. The sturdy toddler with the lower lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin.

ALL MY BABIES are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout.

One boy is toilet trained at 3, his brother at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow.

I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the Remember-When-Mom-Did-Hall-of-Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I included that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I included that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.

The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me.

I was bound and determined to learn from the experts.

It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Pushing the oldest kid

What is it about the oldest child? The first born. They seem to share these stereotypical characteristics; wanting to please, good in school or sports, responsible, etc. Dare I generalize?

Is it just the kids? Maybe but probably not. I have a theory. I think it is the parents and how hard we push our first offspring.

I have watched hovering but loving parents push a violin on a 3 year old who could barely talk. Sure, they were opening up opportunities for their child. But, come on! I have seen kids buckle into stressed out tears at performances while the parents stand pinched lipped nearby.

I have seen parents push their oldest so hard at sports that it is embarrassing to see them at the games. You know these parents; the ones who don't act like it is a game. The ones yelling the loudest, talking trash about the other team. The kids who cry when they lose and are inconsolable. Maybe because they know there will be a long discussion about how they could play better next time or what they did wrong on the way home? I am not talking about high school kids, I am talking little elementary school kids.

We know of extremely talented high school athletes that won't play their sport anymore. They are burned out. They were pushed too hard. Played to competitively, too early. It wasn't fun anymore and they rebelled. There goes that athletic scholarship that mom and dad had been banking on.

And, there is plenty of pushing academically too. I remember a whole subsection of parents being mad at the school because Kindergarten wasn't rigorous enough. How rigorous should Kindergarten be?

And, at the Math is Cool competition, kids that didn't do well shed real tears too. Both parents and kids were crushed. Not a happy ride home after that.

One 5 year old we know is skipping over Kindergarten and doing a unprecidented 1st grade/Kindergarten. Hm. Not sure how that works. Pushing your kid from preschool to first grade. First child? You bet. Who is that for really? Where does parental ego stop and what is best for the kid begin? How will that kid like being the shortest, youngest kid in his grade when he is in, say, 5th grade? Was pushing him to 1st grade when he was 5 worth it? Only time will tell.

I told Molly about this kid. She asked if I think I pushed her too hard. I suppose I did to some degree. I suppose we can't help it. It is only when the next one comes along that you realize how hard you pushed. I asked her if she thought I pushed her too hard. She said no but I would like to ask her again when she is 15, 20, 25 or 30.

I told her I wondered about the wisdom of even pushing the violin on a 5 year old. She reminded me that she begged us for 2 years to take lessons. If she hadn't we probably would not have started her. Why? Because violin is the hardest instrument to learn to play and I didn't want to set her up for failure. I tried to talk her into piano!

See? That is the other side of this same coin. We want our first to fly high! For their glory and our own. The next kid? Maybe we realize by then, that they are who they are. With encouragement they will make their own leaps. That pushing too much is, well, too much. It can backfire and the guilt is all encompassing.

Jake has a story about his dad. When he was born, his dad asked the oldest son, 12 year old Danny, what he should do different with the new baby boy. He said, "Don't push so hard, Dad." Ouch.

We are all trying the best we can.

Teacher layoffs: it's not about "need" it's about "afford"

I know school districts all around the country are feeling the pain. Teachers are being laid off in record number for next year. All at the worst possible time. Not only is this awful for the schools and most importantly the kids, it is frightening for the local economies.

Teachers don't make high wages in the first place, but it is a good, solid job in these rocky days. Now, many won't even have that.

Our school district is threatening to RIF (reduction in force) 8 or 9 full time teachers for next year. We are a small school district. We already have pretty large class sizes. I can see what is coming down the pike.

Special Education isn't immune.

Last year there were 2 full time teachers for the Developmental Preschool that Shea attends. This program handles 0-3, Child Find, outreach, preschool for 3-6, screenings, testing and IEPs. That is a pretty full plate for 2 teachers.

This year, the staffing went down to 1.5 teachers. Same duties but less paid time to get it all done. Next year there will only be one full time teacher. Guess what? They still have to do all the same stuff.

How could anyone get all that done? Answer: they won't we able to. They will spend less time per child, less time per task and still probably have to bring a bunch of work home. And, then we wonder why teachers are bailing to find other employment.

I understand this is a dollar and cents game. You can't squeeze blood from a turnip, as they say. But, how long can we really afford to continue short changing the kids? And, then put the additional squeeze on the weakest of the bunch?

And, all this from Washington state that won't even talk about an income tax to help pay for the social contract. You know? The commons! The price of living in a civilized society!

Pitiful.

As Americans, we have legally decided that public education is a right. Yet, we still don't pay for it. Why is that? How can we justify the lack of investment?

We can't. There is no justification. It is selfishness and greed clear and simple. We only take care of our own. The others? Be damned. This is the product of the "me first" societal view.

Education is a long term investment. And, if we do not make the effort and sacrifice now, it does not even equate to a gamble but a lost opportunity, never to be regained.

Happy Mother's Day: all species

Carrots

No, this is not a blog post about my garden. This is definitely a parenting post.

Before I had kids, I had no idea how much negotiation went on.

"If you eat a good dinner, you can have ice cream."

"If you hit your sister one more time, you will get a time out."

Cause and effect. You know the drill.

Parenting seems to be deal with carrots and sticks all the time. Or bribes and punishments?

As the kids get older, the carrots and the sticks change. It keeps a parent on their toes to be a step or two in front so that the negotiation gets the desired effect.

When Molly first started violin she was 5 and stickers were her carrot. They lost their luster after awhile and nothing would do but sweets.

I remember sitting with her as she practiced her tunes adding chocolate chips one by one to a bowl for each song she played. That worked for a bit.

About a year ago, we shamelessly went to money. If she practices, she gets a buck. It has to be a good practice, her best effort. I consider it money well spent and better for her than candy.

Recently, we stumbled upon a new sparkly, dazzling, lusted after carrot. She wants an I-pod upgrade. Let me explain, she got a Shuffle a year or two back but is only really getting into listening to music lately. The Shuffle does not have a video screen. Gasp! So she wants a Nano which will hold 2,000 songs and 8 hours of video. My mind still reals; what the heck?

Anyway, she wants it, hence it is a new powerful carrot. No, you do not just provide the carrot, you make them work for the carrot, of course. That is the point.

I told her that I would buy her Shuffle from her for $75 but she would need to come up with the rest. Ah ha! With that statement she has swung into money making mode.

We made some plans and mapped out a strategy. She counted up all the money she has now and how much more she will need to make. We looked at the calendar and picked out some days for her to do her money making.

How does she make money? She busks. She sets up at the Saturday Farmers Market and plays solo violin with her case open. I "seed" with a starter buck and the rest is up to her.

Today was the first busk of the season and I have finally wised up and brought a lawn chair. I just sit somewhat nearby and stay out of her way.

Within an hour or so, she made $26.

Someone today started rattling off to me all the good life lessons she was getting; people skills, practical math, project planning and goal definition. He went on and on.

People are always incredibly kind and encouraging. They are dazzled at her bravery to stand there alone and play. So am I.

Flying solo all week

Jake has been gone all week doing a workshop in Portland, OR. He will be back tonight and I am very, VERY glad.

I know there are single parents out there who manage by themselves just fine, thank you very much! For this, I take my parental hat off to you. I don't know how you do it!

Because it is damn hard being the only one. Maybe I am just too old for this? The house is a disaster (more than usual), my dinner ideas are completely tapped out without the resident BBQ maestro and the "Let's wait for daddy to get home" list of projects and problems is getting longer by the hour.

Yes, we missed him. I am sure he learned lots and it was time well spent. But, I learned something too.

Damn, I appreciate him! And, I'm glad I don't have to fly solo all the time.

Get home safe, babe.

Research suggest Children can recover from Autism

From Newsnet5.com:

Leo Lytel was diagnosed with autism as a toddler. But by age 9 he had overcome the disorder.

His progress is part of a growing body of research that suggests at least 10 percent of children with autism can "recover" from it -- most of them after undergoing years of intensive behavioral therapy.

Skeptics question the phenomenon, but University of Connecticut psychology professor Deborah Fein is among those convinced it's real. She presented research this week at an autism conference in Chicago that included 20 children who, according to rigorous analysis, got a correct diagnosis but years later were no longer considered autistic.

Among them was Leo, a boy in Washington, D.C., who once made no eye contact, who echoed words said to him and often spun around in circles -- all classic autism symptoms. Now he is an articulate, social third-grader. His mother, Jayne Lytel, says his teachers call Leo a leader.

The study, funded by the National Institute of Mental Health, involves children ages 9 to 18. Autism researcher Geraldine Dawson, chief science officer of the advocacy group Autism Speaks, called Fein's research a breakthrough.

"Even though a number of us out in the clinical field have seen kids who appear to recover," it has never been documented as thoroughly as Fein's work, Dawson said. "We're at a very early stage in terms of understanding" the phenomenon, Dawson said. Previous studies have suggested between 3 percent and 25 percent of autistic kids recover. Fein says her studies have shown the range is 10 percent to 20 percent. But even after lots of therapy -- often carefully designed educational and social activities with rewards -- most autistic children remain autistic.

Recovery is "not a realistic expectation for the majority of kids," but parents should know it can happen, Fein said. Doubters say "either they really weren't autistic to begin with ... or they're still socially odd and obsessive, but they don't exactly meet criteria" for autism, she said.

Fein said the children in her study "really were" autistic and now they're "really not."

University of Michigan autism expert Catherine Lord said she also has seen autistic patients who recover. Most had parents who spent long hours working with them on behavior improvement. But, Lord added, "I don't think we can predict who this will happen for." And she does not think it's possible to make it happen.

The children in Fein's study, which is still ongoing, were diagnosed by an autism specialist before age 5 but no longer meet diagnostic criteria for autism. The initial diagnoses were verified through early medical records. Because the phenomenon is so rare, Fein is still seeking children to help bolster evidence on what traits formerly autistic kids may have in common. Her team is also comparing these children with autistic and non-autistic kids.

So far, the "recovered" kids "are turning out very normal" on neuropsychological exams and verbal and nonverbal tests, she said. The researchers are also doing imaging tests to see if the recovered kids' brains look more like those of autistic or nonautistic children. Autistic children's brains tend to be slightly larger than normal. Imaging scans also are being done to examine brain function in formerly autistic kids. Researchers want to know if their "normal" behavior is a result of "normal" brain activity, or if their brains process information in a non-typical way to compensate for any deficits. Results from those tests are still being analyzed.

Most of the formerly autistic kids got long-term behavior treatment soon after diagnosis, in some cases for 30 or 40 hours weekly. Many also have above-average IQs and had been diagnosed with relatively mild cases of autism. At age 2, many were within the normal range for motor development, able to walk, climb and hold a pencil. Significant improvement suggesting recovery was evident by around age 7 in most cases, Fein said. None of the children has shown any sign of relapse. But nearly three-fourths of the formerly autistic kids have had other disorders, including attention-deficit problems, tics and phobias; eight still are affected. Jayne Lytel says Leo sometimes still gets upset easily but is much more flexible than before.

The politics of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness

When I started this blog, I specifically didn't want to have it be politics heavy. Even though I live and breath liberal politics on a day to day basis, I had no intention for my blog to be politically focused. There are many, many, MANY political blogs out there and there is nothing that I could say better than any of those people.

But, one thing I was always going to allow myself was to post political cartoons and satire that I liked and enjoyed. As a life long liberal, I know that laughter is not only the best medicine, it may be the only medicine when times are tough. Like the last 8 years.

So, as you may know, every once in awhile I post a political cartoon because it is funny or apt or a perfect example of how a picture says 1,000 words.

So what. Right?

I got this anonymous comment today attached to a cartoon about Souter retiring from the Supreme Court.

"You should leave the politics off of your site - the kids are much more interesting. It's also such a cliche to be liberal on Vashon. Show some independence of thought."

RE: "The kids are much more interesting." Isn't that the truth! But, then again I am so biased!

But, I have to say, I was a liberal long before I moved to Vashon, cliche or not. I was unwittingly breathing tear gas just trying to get home from work during the Seattle WTO protests. Maybe that hit of tear gas made me more politically active or maybe it was watching the police beat the crap out of an unarmed protester but that is not what specifically sent me to the island.

I moved here for the public schools and the rural setting. Lots of liberals were a bonus. But, then again, we weren't lacking for liberals in West Seattle either.

Frankly, I love somewhat snarky comments! I makes things much more interesting. Plus, it must mean I am hitting a nerve! Good. I have always felt that life is way too short to be a boring conformist.

But, why must we think politics needs to stay in it's stinky little corner? Every time I blog about public education I am talking politics. Every time I blog about human dignity, mutual respect and diversity, I am touching on political issues. As a parent I better be a political animal. As a special parent I sure as heck better be a political animal. All the better to advocate!

Maybe if more parents saw their day to day life in "political" terms we wouldn't be in the deep, deep ugly hole we are in right now.

So, to all of you who know me: I am a liberal. I am unapologetic. I live on Vashon. Coincidence? Who gives a shit. Lacking in "independent thought"? You must not know me very well.

For those of you who don't know me; I am a liberal, I like political cartoons, I like thinking about making the world a better place.

Problems with that? Snark away!

Or, as a famous recent war-criminal president said, "Bring 'em on!"

Characteristics

The last time we went to Shea's OT appointment, she mentioned that he had done something that no other kid have ever done in the many, many years that she had been working.

She had climbed up onto the platform swing to secure a trapeze bar and Shea said, "Here let me help you with that."

He held the platform swing for her so that it wouldn't move while she was standing on it.

What is that a sign of?

Empathy? Helpfulness? Conscientiousness? Give & take in friendships?

She thought it was pretty wild that he just said and did what he did without even thinking about it.

Interesting.

Wrong one

Gag order or my kid told me to shut up

I knew it would happen eventually. My oldest told me to stop blogging about her. So, here I am...trying not to blog about her.

She read a bunch of posts on my blog last night and was mad at me. Too much stuff about her. She is at that easily embarrassed age. She is right and I feel bad.

So, no more tid bits about her unless they are authorized.

I will miss it but she asked me and I need to honor her request.

Friends in high places

Rundown school gets makeover due to 8th grader's letter to congress.

That must have been some letter! Although, it is pretty frightening that conditions at that school had gotten so bad in the first place.

The shame factor? You bet but whatever works.

From AP:

Students who had grown resigned to old, "nasty" furnishings at their dilapidated middle school in rural South Carolina were elated Monday to find new furniture and a freshly painted cafeteria, thanks to a student's plea, a president's speech and a businessman's response.

"I was amazed. They changed the whole thing," said J.V. Martin Junior High eighth-grader Jessica Manning, 13. "It let me know somebody cares about us."

Other students could be heard uttering the words "awesome" and "excellent" as they stared at the new furniture, custom made in black with varnished oak tops, that replaced creaky old desks coated in graffiti and chewing gum.

President Obama brought national attention to the school Feb. 24 in his first address to Congress when he read a letter from eighth-grader Ty'Sheoma Bethea asking for help replacing her rundown school.

Bethea had addressed her letter to Congress, so her principal sent it to the White House and South Carolina's congressional delegation.

Cinco de Mayo!

Viva!

Good bye, dude!

Childhood friendships are a very fickle thing. Especially if you're special.

Shea told me this morning that a certain kid who he had been friends with told him that he didn't want to play with him anymore.

Hard to know what to say to that.

I guess the good news is that Shea is talking about it. But, ouch.

Then he said another friend, who was a best buddy just weeks ago, didn't want to play with him either.

It's hard to know the context of all this. Or how real any of it is. I am trying not to make a big deal about it. But I did write a little note to the teacher asking her if she thought it was real.

"Oh well. There are other kids to play with, right? Maybe they will want to play another day." I say brightly, all the while cringing and worried.

That seemed to do the trick and he proceeded to tell me about running a race with yet another kid.

It is hard as a parent to watch this from the sidelines. Each cut gets me too.

Maybe I should be proactive with this new friend that he had the race with. We saw him and his mom at the grocery store.

"Hi Shea!" he said.

"Hi dude!" Shea waving excitedly.

"Hey dude!" he giggled back clearly in on the joke.

More giggles.

"Good bye dude!"

I looked at his mother with amusement. "Shall we try and get these two together for a playdate sometime?" I offered.

"I think we should." she said laughing.

I need to follow that up. But, I wonder how hard to push these things. I would never want to force a relationship for my special kid. It seems like a recipe to backfire.

I will wait for a sunny day and invite them to the beach. Something safe and neutral. I guess I owe it to Shea to keep trying.

As the years go on it is going to get harder. I know that. I've cut my teeth with the first kid but this feels different. This brings up the profound vulnerability again. The mommy bear protectiveness. The "what if it was different" pointless wishes.

Does it ever get easier? No. Probably not.

Popsicle season

Even though it is still quite chilly here and we are a good 3+ week to Memorial day, it is officially popsicle season.

Although Molly has been downing Popsicles with dazzling skill from age 2, it has taken Shea a bit longer to get into the groove.

I think his low tone mouth and tongue issue makes it hard to deal with something so frozen and cold. "What the heck? How do I deal with this?" has been his reaction up until lately.

Molly doesn't mind, in fact she likes it that he doesn't finish his, because that means she gets to finish his too. Of course.

But, this year Shea gets it. I have no idea if it is because he is gaining more control over his mouth. Or maybe he has just figured out how to tackle it. Whatever the reason, he is clearly on the band wagon.

I get Scribblers, a fruit juice sweetened crayon/pencil shaped pop. They aren't too big so it doesn't end up being such a mess. They combine 3 different colors/flavors per pop and there are multiple color combinations. One of the fun things for the kids to do is compare and match up who has a pop with similar color combinations. I have heard long discussions and trading sessions due to this.

Suddenly, Shea is there. It is the first thing he says, "Red on top, green middle, orange bottom" he recites to me. It is all about the color combination and naming them apparently. More so than the treat itself.

Maybe it is the fact that I am so thankful that warm weather is near; but I see my kids and popsicles is one of the cutest things about summer.

Memories on a stick.

The principal and the paddle

When I was in 6th grade, my teacher Mr. Geiger had a paddle displayed up on his wall. I never saw or heard that it was ever used but it did make us all sit up and take notice.

My husband has stories about his dad, a teacher for over 40 years, and his "board of education". A sturdy paddle with that title painted on it displayed prominently in the front of his classroom. Granted, this was for high school.

What do you think about this elementary school principal?

From Newsweek:

The wooden paddle on principal David Nixon's desk is two feet long, with a handle wrapped in duct tape that has been worn down by age and use. He found it in a dusty cabinet in his predecessor's office at John C. Calhoun Elementary in Calhoun Hills, S.C., where Nixon has been the principal since 2006. He has no idea if the old principal ever used it, but now it sits in plain view for all visitors to see, including children who have been dismissed to his office. As punishment for a "major offense," such as fighting or stealing, students are told to place both hands on the seat of a leather chair and brace for what Nixon calls "a whippin'."

Before he begins, though, he sits the child down for a quiet talk about why he, or she, is in trouble. He tries to determine if a deeper issue, such as a problem at home, might warrant a meeting with a counselor. If the child shows remorse, Nixon will often send him or her back to class without a spanking. Otherwise, he makes sure he is calm, and he makes sure his elbow is still. Then he delivers "three licks" to the child's rear end. If the child is a girl, then a female administrator does it. Some of the kids cry. Some are silent. Some want a hug. And after the child is sent back to class, still stinging, Nixon sits alone in his office and thinks about what the child has done, and what he has done. "If I could burn that paddle in my stove," Nixon says, "I would. This is the worst part of my job."

Before Nixon took over "John C," student behavior had gotten so bad that one teacher described it as "chaos." She eventually quit in disgust, pulled her own child from the school, and moved to a different one 45 minutes away. John C is located in a rural stretch of South Carolina near the Georgia border where all but one of the major textile plants have closed, and where the leading local employer is the school system. Nearly 90 percent of the kids at John C live below the poverty line. When Nixon went to his first PTO meeting, only about a dozen parents showed up at a school with 226 students. He still has trouble reaching many families by phone because they can't afford to put down a deposit on a landline. And yet Nixon has managed to turn John C around. It recently earned three statewide Palmetto awards, one for academic performance and two for overall improvement—the school's first such honors in its 35-year history. Not everyone agrees with his methods, but most parents and teachers will tell you he couldn't have pulled off such a turnaround without his wooden paddle.

Still, the mere fact that it works hasn't made spanking kids any easier for Nixon, who's no fire-breathing traditionalist. He's 31, a brownish-haired beanpole with a soft-spoken but determined manner. Married, with an 8-month-old daughter, he taught agriculture to high-school students for six years but had no prior administrative experience. He studied animal science at Clemson, served as state president of the Future Farmers of America, and raised 50 head of beef cattle on his ranch. In 2006, a family friend called about an opening at John C. The school, he heard, was "kind of in bad shape," but he took the job anyway.

What ever happened to the May Day basket?

This may date me; so be it.

I remember as a kid, we would make colorful construction paper baskets and fill them with paper flowers. They were May Day baskets. We all made them and had to get them done in time.

Does anybody else remember this?

The point was to go to someone's house, ring the bell and leave the basket at their door. I seem to remember it being suggested to leave it for an elderly person who may be lonesome.

Where the heck did that go? This memory is pervasive.

I am just finishing up a full stint of elementary years with my oldest kid and nary a May Day basket has emerged.

What is May Day? Wiki says:

May Day is related to the Celtic festival of Beltane and the Germanic festival of Walpurgis Night. May Day falls exactly half of a year from November 1, another cross-quarter day which is also associated with various northern European pagan and neopagan festivals such as Samhain. May Day marks the end of the uncomfortable winter half of the year in the Northern hemisphere, and it has traditionally been an occasion for popular and often raucous celebrations, regardless of the locally prevalent political or religious establishment.

As Europe became Christianized the pagan holidays lost their religious character and either changed into popular secular celebrations, as with May Day, or were merged with or replaced by new Christian holidays as with Christmas, Easter, and All Saint's Day. In the twentieth century, many neopagans began reconstructing the old traditions and celebrating May Day as a pagan religious festival again.

Right. A pagen holiday. Is that why the schools don't make a big deal about it anymore? Public school are hyper-conscious these days about offending anyone and holidays are paramount. Or is it just our school?

Any ideas? I miss those little May Day baskets.

High school kids: working and proud of it

I recently hit a plant sale at my local high school where they were selling a wide variety of veggie starts to promote and help fund the on site vocational horticulture program. All the seedlings were grown on the high school property in a green house by students.

This sale was the cool weather veggies; lettuce, bok choy, broccoli, cauliflower, mustard, etc. In another few weeks, the hot weather veggie sale will happen.

It was hotter than blazes in the green house but I was really inspired to see the kids so enthusiastically working at the sale. There was a line of them potting up seedlings and getting flats ready decked out in summer clothes. The more gregarious ones were helping customers, counting up orders (and doing the math in their heads!) and asking if I needed help carrying my starts to the car.

They were trying out some suggested selling techniques on me and guess what? They worked! I ended up walking out of there with a whole flat including some stuff I am not sure I wanted or know what to do with! But, it was for an excellent cause, the starts were cheap and it was so entertaining to see the kids hustle.

I was reminded of the energy and focus a young person can have when they are doing something they find valuable. They all seemed proud of their accomplishments and saw real value when money was changing hands for their hard work. Eyes lit up as cash accumulated and someone with an excited tone of voice was keeping a running tally of the "take" for the day.

How many life lessons were rolled into this one lesson? Answer: lots.

I have always been a huge proponent of vocational education and this horticulture program at our high school is exactly right for right now. Not only do they really help out a cash strapped school to keep the grounds up. But, they are being taught to be self sufficient and grow their own food. I can't think of a better timing than right now.

Vocational training is just that; vocational. Like, being able to get a job. Is these rocky economic times I would hope we as a nation could devote more energy and focus to vocational training. Not all kids are meant or ever will be able to afford college. There is no shame in having practical knowledge like being able to build something or being able to grow food. In fact, these are some of the few jobs that can never, ever be outsourced.

And the kids get it. We parents may hope for stellar college tracks for our little dears but some of these kids have seen just how that didn't always turn out as planned. Knowing how to do something practical is looking pretty appealing right now.

I was very proud of them. I can only imagine how proud their parents were. I will definitely be back for some tomatoes, peppers, squash and another healthy dose of enthusiastic youth.

Good advise...

This is the #1 tip to prevent getting swine flu, so please don’t engage in this type of activity.

Don't do this...