Dear President Obama
Dear President Obama,
I gave you my vote in 2008 and I am still 100% glad that I did. I’ve never doubted you in your 14 months so far and I think you’re fabulous. This is a letter commending your triumphs because you are an easy man to criticize; people love to throw stones at the TV screen knowing the President won’t yell back.
As an American, I’m fan of Healthcare reform. I’m so committed to it that this is the only time in my life that I find myself in the minority of something. I’m a White, Protestant, Middle-class male with a Master’s degree. I’m from an upper-middle class family and so is my wife.
I’m in the minority for this reason: I’m prepared to pay more taxes for the same health coverage so that medical coverage could be provided to those less fortunate than I am. I’m sure if everybody thought this way, we’d have a bill already, but I’m prepared to wait until we find a bill that people quit complaining about.
(And I’ll tell any Republicans I know to put some of their energy into building bills instead of tearing them down.)
As a teacher, I support several unpopular ideas and I figured that you’d like a voice in the trenches. So here it is:
Merit Pay is a great idea if properly and concretely implemented. I won’t suggest what that system will be, but I can say from my own experience that teachers who stink are kept in the payroll way too long. Exciting and motivated teachers have little incentive to do a good job when tenured teachers get paid more to sit behind their desk and hand out worksheets. It’s depressing.
NCLB is hated universally among teachers that I know. We all agree that the students in our classes need better skills and that a great way to measure that is test scores, but to claim that all schools reach an API score of 800 by the year 2014 is ridiculous. If you don’t know much about API, then you can trust me on this; it’s ridiculous.
We understand that the White House has bigger fish to fry than No Child Left Behind reform. For now, we teachers are fine to just … not talk about it.
It’s also pretty apparent that you’re not a big fan of people applauding you; I respect that and empathize. I giggled when Michelle motioned for the house to “sit down” during the standing ovation for her obesity plan.
All that to say that I think you’re great and I will support you until you invade Canada… and probably even after that; they’ve been asking for it, eh.
~V
I thought I’d heard it all
I thought I’d heard it all.
At first, Jane was just another “problem student” who had trouble focusing. She claimed that she was just hyper, or just had a bunch of candy; the usual excuses. I thought that I had made a breakthrough when she told me she was dyslexic. My eyes lit up as I moved her to the front of the class and provided the notes in advance with blanks for her to fill in. I was excited to be able to meet her needs as a teacher.
Then she started missing school. She’d come in late with a limp and ask to be left alone for the day. What’s the matter? Hungover again? I’d smirk.
“Something like that,” she said with a weak smile. Later that day, she’d murmur something about a spinal tap. Oh, man! I said, my sister had one of those and she got headaches.
“Yeah,” she said. “I have headaches; I couldn’t do the homework last night.” A pretty weak excuse as excuses go. I’ve heard a lot of them. I’ve heard a lot of excuses.
Then she’d miss a whole day. She came back to class with no energy and didn’t have the pluck to talk to her classmates during the lesson or distract her neighbor. “I was with family. There’s drama at my house. I couldn’t finish the project.” I’ve heard that one a lot, but I give grace for unstable home lives. I thought I’d heard it all.
Soon she was out a whole week at a time. The office would call and say that Jane was in the hospital and her mom was coming to pick up her assignments. Hospital is a good excuse. One of the best I’ve heard. I thought I’d heard it all.
When she got back, I’d be patient and show her what she missed. Jane was pretty bright and could have gotten an A if she were in class more often. I would tell her that when filling her in on the Perimeter and Area of Trapezoids.
Eventually, she leveled with me.
“Mr. V, I have cancer.”
I thought I’d heard it all.
Like bad cancer? I asked.
“Well, it’s a … osteoblastoma… I think.”
I know enough to know that having “blast” in the name isn’t a good sign, but I keep a straight face. So what’s the plan?
“Nothing,” she shrugged.
What do you mean, nothing? I mean what’s the plan for treatment? Chemo? Radiation?
“Nope. I don’t want none of that. My auntie had cancer in her face, and even after they took it out, she still has it, like under her eye. The radiation just made her hair fall out. I’m already losing my hair and I ain’t gonna be one of them bald girls.”
So… that’s it? Just giving up? How long do you have?
“Well, the doctor says if I eat right and take the pills then I could have years left, but I don’t even eat at all now and those pills make me tired. So maybe…six months?”
I thought I’d heard it all.
Why not fight it?
“Oh, uh-uh. I saw what it did to my auntie. Three weeks in a hospital and it didn’t even cure nothing. I hate hospitals to begin with. I ain’t doin that. My momma wants me to do the treatment, but she knows it’s my life. It’s my decision.”
Hmm…I’m curious why not; it seems like you have years to gain by risking weeks.
“Mr. V, it sounds like you trying to convince me.” She grins a winning smile, white teeth against her dark skin.
No; you’re going to do what you want to do. I just want to understand you and make sure you know what you’re doing. Do you journal?
“No.”
You should start.
“Why?”
Because, I say, touching my head. The right side of your brain is where emotions lie and the left side is where speech, writing, and logic lie. By writing or talking about your feelings, you move the ideas to the logic side and can see things more clearly. Think about it.
“Okay, Mr. V.” She grins and goes to lunch.
I thought I’d heard it all.
~V
I didn’t WANT to see Blind Side, but I’m glad I did
The Blind Side, in case you’re overseas, don’t own a TV, or are my grandparents, is the latest heartstring-pulling blockbuster starring Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw as the two wealthy white parents who take in a black kid from the projects and help him turn his life around. My initial thought was similar to yours: I’d much rather see James Cameron blow stuff up and cool blue CG aliens than Sandra Bullock teach a poor kid to keep his elbows off the table and open his heart again. No, thanks.
Luckily for Sandra, me, and this blog entry, I was already in line to buy popcorn before I realized that my family had decided to see Blind Side instead of Avatar. Disappointing, but hey, I still get popcorn. (I could live on just movie popcorn for the rest of my days, which, as my sister pointed out, would likely be less than a month.)
After a few mouthfuls of fluffy cancer, I was satisfied, and I decided to put aside my previous views of the film, resolved to watch it unbiased-ly…. unbi…. in an unbiased manner. My previous opinions of the film were rooted in an article in, among others, Time magazine (which I get on my Blackberry, score one for trees). An article said something to effect of “Blind Side is a heart-wrenching tale for aging Southern Belles about how a white family can save a black boy, if only given the chance.” After seeing the movie, I disagree,and here’s why:
Blind Side was about a wealthy family lifting a poor boy out of his surroundings, and race had very little to do with it. The kids in the family all were accepting and even encouraging. In my favorite scene, the football coach is trying to get the admissions team to bring Michael into the private Christian school. His empassioned diatribe sounds something like this (in a Southern accent):
“Are we a Christian school or not? Cuz if we are, then we need to admit this boy, because Christians are about second chances and extending grace.”
I hooted in the middle of the theatre after that one.
And the TRUUUUUTH shall setcha free! Glory hallelujah!
Truthfully, the “Michael is a misfit” jokes came more at the expense of his 250-lb 6′5″ frame than of his race, although in one scene, the family gets a phone call from a relative asking “did you know that there’s a colored boy in your Christmas photo?”
The writers and Sandra do an excellent job of confronting common misconceptions about both the low-income demographic and the black demographic. has a lunch bunch with a few other trophy wives, one of which asks “don’t you worry, leaving your daughter alone in the house with him?” To which, Leigh Anne (Sandra Bullock) replies simply, “Shame on you.”
I was on the edge of my seat as Michael wandered back into his old apartment complex and into the den of a drug dealer, dealing out swift justice as he defends his new family. I cheered as the mouthy cornerback from the rival team gets blocked over a fence. I laughed as the 9-year-old son barked out Michael’s workout schedule.
"Five 100-yard sprints... MOVE!"
Further, I resonate as a teacher seeing that one of my students has special needs and I want to give… something. Like Michael’s Biology teacher, I’ve also given verbal tests to students who can’t write well. I’ve also bumped up the grades of students who are trying hard and improving. I’ve also made sure that students have clothes and food.
I want to “save” students in my class that are family-less, and until now, those desires have been postponed. Blind Side poked that part of me with a stick and I heard Leigh Anne bark at me “He is part of my family”. Not only did I resonate with the sentiment of the movie, but I felt it encourage me to become a better Christian, and there aren’t many films that do that.
I love movies with personal growth and justice, and Blind Side has both. See it.
~V
