Where our hearts are centered

A reminder of where my heart is centered.



In a world with too many, too often, hostile to any center at all.

Pity the poor asshole

Miley. Forgive Andrew for being such an asshole. Someone has to.



Else the world will be full of assholes like Andrew.

And what a fucked up world that would be.

Because dicks say so

I just won't do what dicks say so just because they say so, anymore. No matter who they are. I'm sorry if that disappoints dicks who would prefer otherwise. I don't feel beholden to their inclinations any longer.

Waitin' for a Superman

And then the heavy passes.

Homo sapien, from the Latin "lovable, to be sure, but a damn stubborn fool"

Homo sapien. Latin translation for "wise man". "Clever man". "All-too-clever man." And the most ridiculous mess of stubborn foolishness that humankind, so called, has ever known.

Quick question: If you bully Galileo into recanting a heliocentric solar system, or any other fact of the known or unknown universe, does that, in fact, mean that the known universe revolves around the earth? Or the pope? Or your bank account? Or your powerful perch? Or whatever selfish impulse suits you, that afternoon?

If homo sapiens bully those other homo sapiens who tell you that bullying homo sapiens to solve their problems, generally, makes those problems and those homo sapiens worse, does that, in fact, make those homo sapiens and those problems and the state of the species better? If you bully those who tell you that bullying, punishing, and otherwise aggressively leveraging problems from our midst does not, in fact, resolve them, often makes them more difficult and painful, and often makes life quite needlessly destructive and tragic, does that, in fact, resolve those problems by pretending them from their midst?

If you are a member of the only remaining species from the animal family Hominidae, circa its entire known existence, perhaps you might be so foolish to pay cash money for that bullshit.

Homo sapiens sapiens. The only species on earth that can contemplate the depth of such questions of their existence and, simultaneously, dramatically and destructively, fail such questions and all the real and meaningful matters they touch by failing to seriously contemplate them at all.

Until the rest of the human species figures out what just how stupid and stubborn the rest of the human species really is.

Doublespeak, 21st Century Gangster-Style

The best guarantor of a free press is a government that shuts it the fuck down.



Progress is killing this little bitch called freedom once and for all.

New discoveries for our own personal star maps

There are days when something so simple makes all the difference. And makes you remember why you teach. This was one of those days.



I've been feeling seriously burned out on the job, frankly. All the various legal requirements and outside bureaucracy that persistently get in the way of me - and most of my colleagues, honestly, if you ask them and, perhaps, care or give some thought what they might think on the matter - bringing a commitment of excellence in education and not just the mandated "free and adequate public education" that so often encourages and enforces diminishing expectations in public education - "a rising tide of mediocrity," as one man spoke of it - in my field have really been weighing heavy on me, this semester.

So much time that could be spent preparing really meaningful lessons eaten up by requirements, many of which are dedicated to explaining away failure with kids who have failed far more than most, rather than committing ourselves to their success. And the ways it distorts more honest understandings of what is going on with kids and adults and schools and ways to create the best opportunities for all of them.

A class I have at the local university, in particular, has been eating at me, given the professor's more conventional commitment to making excuses for failure rather than facing it honestly, learning about its honest sources and committing kids and adults to success and more meaningful understandings of the world around them.

The strongest liberal education, in other words. The kind that matters. To those who believe that it matters. People like me, at least.

The prospect of resigning myself to this nonsense and all of the ways that its mandated variations are out of my control was getting too much, as of late. Given opportunities to leave the field and mark a path for greatness, or at least an independent working existence, elsewhere.

And, last night, in my mental and emotional exhaustion and my lack of inspiration for original lesson ideas for the week, I decided to do something very simple that made all the difference, today.

I decided to have a conversation with the kids.

The question that got the ball rolling was very straightforward and at the heart of all of my anguishing about the distance between why I became a teacher and what education had devolved into, in an age when government fiat too often trumps the commitment of liberal education to develop conscience, freely and honestly. What that liberal in "liberal education" stands for. Liberty, namely. And the commitment to the development of a free and independent conscience that it implies.

The question I asked the kids was, "Does it matter to learn something, to know something, about this world?"

Outside of the assessments - the DBQ's, or Document-Based Questions, as the kids, with half-hearted inspiration and dread, simultaneously, know them - outside of the requirement to take history classes, outside even of the legal compulsion to be at school. Outside of parents and teachers and other adults and all the people who tell them that they should get an education and that education is their future and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

And out of that question, the kids and I had really remarkably profound conversations, today. About the nature of learning and knowing and education. Every class had lively and, at times, passionate opinions on the matter (except for a few in 2nd hour, where a couple of kids opted for napping, all efforts to engage them to the contrary). Even the one girl who argued in 6th hour that education did not matter did so thoughtfully and thoroughly immersed in the discussion (the most involved in that class, ironically).

So many interesting directions with this conversation. The nature of success and education's role in that journey and destination. The nature of education and learning and all those places it shows up. The relationship between street smarts and book smarts and which mattered most in life. Whether learning mattered independent of whether it advances our ambitions or wealth or opportunities.

And my favorite insight from Noah in 4th hour. That so much of school and life gets bogged down in ways peoples' various insecurities - smart people and not-so-smart people, good folks and not-so-good folks, good-looking and the not-terribly-pretty, the more and less talented, the petty-minded and the bigger-minded folks of the world, and down the line - how all of this is constantly getting in the way of people being able to keep focus on this much more fundamental question.

Does it matter to learn, to grow, to develop, to mature, for it's own sake? No matter from where in life we come from. And no matter what stations in life we aspire to.



It was really extraordinary, actually. A bunch of fairly terribly behaved teenage kids, almost all of whom have been in more serious trouble with the law or with school, in one form or another. Many of whose ability to read and reason have been, otherwise, cast in more serious doubt. Many of whom adults have variously given up on. All having a very serious and well-reasoned and, often enough, passionate conversation about whether education matters for its own sake. Completely independent of what it does for each of us tangibly.

It was really insightful for me because it got me much more square with my own insecurities. The same insecurities I work with the kids on. Whether I'm smart enough. Or good enough. Or successful enough. Or whatever enough to warrant peoples' love and respect. And the ways that my own insecurities play out in the classroom, as much as my relationships, or my life, or anywhere else.

We talked about Jack Johnson, of course. Since he's my musical hero, and all.

What was so profound about it, for me, was that in a world that is consumed in those insecurities - in its politics, in the world of high finance and average everyday work-a-day business, in its sports and entertainment industries, especially the world of popular music, and most certainly in its press and media and in its universities and think tanks, in almost every facet of life in America and in the world - these kids, generally thought of as intellectually incapable, even by many of their own teachers, and often thought beyond the pale, even by many of their own parents and family members, were getting underneath some of the more profound truths of human nature and life on this third planet from the sun. And I was learning with them, too. About the world and people. About myself, as much as anything else.

And, to boot, they were enjoying it. I don't know if I had ever seen them appreciate a abstract classroom conversation nearly as well before. And I don't know if I've ever learned so much from kids in one day, from the whole experience. I don't know if I've learned so much from anyone in one day, nevertheless these kids.

It was all really pretty profound for me. A fundamental conversation about the nature of education. And a reminder of why I got into this work, in the first place.

The only and best therapy for my eduction blues.

If this becomes a regular feature of my life as a teacher, I don't know how I can quit, is the truth. It almost felt like I was getting through, today. I'm sure that will fade, tomorrow. But, maybe, like the tide, it will return and perhaps, with it, bring the promise of something else over that moonlit horizon.

I don't want kids who will settle for good or smart after being thought delinquent or retarded and otherwise incapable.

I expect greatness. And genius.

And today we got a little closer to constellations never conceived before on these kids' sky maps.



And that, if you're wondering, is why I do this work.

What a real man sounds like

For those who do not yet know better.

Real progress leads by example

Myanmar democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi released

And waits patiently for the world to catch up.

Hot cocoa for the frostbitten heart

All you ever needed to know about the cold, cold world.



Warm words for the bitter chill that chafes at a broken heart.

The light over that dark horizon

In a world that celebrates its cowardice and pettiness and dark impulses, say those who carry candlesticks, we can either offer our own portion, or we can envision a brighter horizon. Dark can give way to light. If we take time to notice just how dark it has gotten.



Perhaps ugly is not the only impulse that can find a home in our hearts. Perhaps there is no home, at all, in our hearts, as long as it does.

Amidst the celebration - mine, yours, all of us, when we are honest - of the small and base in our natures, perhaps we might consider what kind of world we have made for ourselves and our children in consequence.



And, then, perhaps, there might be hope for something more beautiful for the ones we love, after all.

Physician, heal thyself

The Democrats hold on the House didn't last. Their landmark legislation will.

Hubris, the Greeks whisper.

Instant karma's gonna getcha, says the Brit.

Humble self-discipline beats bitter medicine.

And stinky tofu make for stinky adventure.

Ancient Chi-nese se-cret.

Do we really have any doubt...

Where this is all going?

I definitely do. More often than I let on, honestly. More often than not, these days, really. I preach love and patience. And I practice, far too much, anger and despair. Lack of faith, I suppose. A lack I experience so often, I can't keep up with it. I don't know why, really. Other than everyone - family, friends, students, everyone I know and all the rest I do not know - trying to impress upon me that assholes finish first and that nice guys - my kind of people, meaning - finish last. Nice to know you're loved, huh?

It's a more than a little overwhelming for the heart, truth be told. No matter how strong we think we are.

But then I read exchanges like this. And I'm reminded why humanity just has a way of working these things out.

"JUSTICE GINSBURG: Is there — you’ve been asked questions about the vagueness of this and the problem for the seller to know what’s good and what’s bad. California — does California have any kind of an advisory opinion, an office that will view these videos and say, yes, this belongs in this, what did you call it, deviant violence, and this one is just violent but not deviant? Is there — is there any kind of opinion that the — that the seller can get to know which games can be sold to minors and which ones can’t?

MR. MORAZZINI: Not that I’m aware of, Justice Ginsburg.

JUSTICE SCALIA: You should consider creating such a one. You might call it the California office of censorship. It would judge each of these videos one by one. That would be very nice."

Honestly, do we really have any doubt where we are headed, long term?

More or less freedom? More or less love? Honest progress or not?

We shouldn't, I don't think. We doubt, I think, because doing the right thing does not always bring instant gratification. And doing the wrong thing often does.

But we also do really know how these things work out in the end. When we're not deceiving ourselves.

Doubt is among the choices while building faith, I suppose. And faith is a function of our efforts. Our successes and our failures.

I'm tired and feeling a bit cynical today. A function of bad choices, I assume. And a heavy and weary heart, these days.

Perhaps wiser heads should speak on this matter, today.



Perhaps one day I might be more like one of them.

This is not a Sandwich, this is Progress.

Happy Meals banned in San Fransisco

Progress. Means never having to admit that you're wrong.

And no Happy Meals, to boot.



Unhappy meal. Happy, happy day.

This is not a Sandwich. This is Progress.

Je ne comprend pas Francais. Je suis désolé. Mais je voudrais vous aimer.

I do not understand French. I am sorry. But I want to love you.
- Jack Johnson

What touches the heart is the only honest truth that really matters

And the say of those who say different generally does not. Not really. When all is said and done.

The final word on politics

You know it's true.