Church, State, and Cultural Literacy

Ladies and Gentlemen!
Behold, a spade!

One of my genuine pet peeves for many years has been the tendency of public institutions to muddy the water, dumb down the discourse, and bore us all to tears, just to avoid controvery.

Some folks have complained, justifiably, when public schools, for instance, have allowed themselves to be in the position of promoting a religion. As a result, some dumb and/or lily-livered school administrators, textbook companies, and teachers have taken the easy way out and basically pretended religion doesn't exist. How stupid! And how destructive to the cultural literacy of our students!

Madison and Jefferson, even though they breeched it themselves sometimes, were in favor of a wall of separation between church and state. Me too. But it doesn't have to have razor wire at the top and guard dogs and armed sentries. It could even have a few windows in it, for heaven's sake! They did not want us raising ignoramuses who do not know the stories of the Bible, who do not know the meanings of religious words, who do not know the basic tenets of various Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Mormon, and other groups.

This is not officially a "Christian" nation and never has been. It has certainly never been an "Evangelical Christian" nation. Our framers were careful and deliberate and specific in leaving references to the deity out of the Constitution with the exception of the traditional "in the year of our Lord" at the end. We have always had a variety of religious and non-religious men among our leaders. But they were not, as a group, anti-religious. (Paine was and Jefferson may have been privately.) And they didn't expect us to pretend religion doesn't exist.

I teach fourth grade. We used the Houghton Mifflin, Spelling & Vocabulary series for several years. Near the first of the year one of the spelling words is "pray". According to Houghton-Mifflin the word means: "To wish or hope strongly" ARRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!! "Pray" may sometimes be used in this way, but it is primarily used to mean "To petition or express thanks to God". It is simply absurd to give "wish" as the primary definition.

Similarly, to call a Christmas Tree by another name as a way of making it palatible for a multi-cultural group is just revolting. "Holiday Tree" is boring and incorrect. There are ways to be sensitive to a diverse populace short of homogenizing the taste right out of our diversity.

"Happy Holidays" is a perfectly suitable greeting with history behind it. It's not very interesting, but there's nothing wrong with it. If I were a Jewish or Muslim businessman that might be my most common greeting during the Christmas season. But there is no reason to demand that those who observe Christmas ignore its name or its significance.

Neither is it un-American to admit to your beliefs (or dis-, un-, or other belief). If I use my position as a public school teacher to actively promote the United Methodist Church, I should be reprimanded. Public school groups have no business attending church-related activities or meetings and such meetings should not take place at school. But there is nothing wrong with my students knowing that I am Methodist; that I pray; that I attend services regularly; or, incidentally and assuming I want to share them, what some of my beliefs are. Cultural literacy demands exposure to the different belief systems in our country.

It is a fine line. Teachers should be careful they don't cross the line between teaching and preaching. I would certainly scream bloody murder if the Falwell ilk started proselytizing my children at school. But I have no problem with my children having an idea of what it means to be, for example, Baptist in Georgia. They would be illiterate in this society without that information.

There is nothing unconstitutional about calling a spade a spade, even religious spades.

Nosy Questions

Have you ever...:

My sister Joan used this questionaire on her blog, Daddy's Roses. I couldn't resist giving it a go.

Crashed a friend's car? Yes. I had agreed to buy his old Olds, but we hadn’t gotten around to the paperwork! I rear-ended another car. Definitely my fault. Don’t ever let that happen to you. Both of us should have known better. It made for a complicated situation!

Been dumped ? She just barely beat me to it, dadgum her!

Been fired /laid off? No

Snuck out of your parent's house ? Yep.

Gone on a blind date? Yep. Bad idea.

Lied to a friend? Just little white ones!!!! Honest.

Skipped school? Maybe a couple of times.

Been to Canada? Yes. Visited my sister and her family, two or three times when they lived in Buffalo, New York; we visited Niagara Falls and we spent a day in Toronto. Later Sheila and I spent a night or two at the Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton National Park in Alberta. Gorgeous!

Been in a fist fight? Not since fifth grade. Came close to one in 1993.

Been to Mexico? Nope.

Eaten Sushi? Nope.

Met someone in person from the internet? Nope

Taken pain-killers? An aspirin a day is about it.

Had a tea party? My daughters and I have had beaucoups of Tea Parties when they were preschoolers. Imaginary tea, of course. Mostly tiny cups of sand tea served with small plates of sand cherry pie and other sand delicacies. Always delicious.

"...Turn around and they're tiny: turn around and they're grown..."

Cheated while playing a game? Don't think so.

Fallen asleep at work ? Went to sleep in mid-sentence while reading to my fifth-graders at McHenry Elementary School about 1977. I woke to those immortal words: “Look, Mr. Shaw’s gone to sleep!”

Felt an earthquake? Twice, I think. Once in West Virginia about 1970 and again in Georgia a few years later. I haven’t thought of that in years.

Touched a snake? Many times.

Been robbed? We’ve been burglarized several times. Lawn mowers, weedeaters, bicycles, etc.

Petted a reindeer/goat? Yes. We even borrowed a friend’s goat for a few days so it could eat up some honeysuckle. This may not count, but one of the most memorable Independence Day Barbecues I've ever attended involved a goat -- delicious.

Won a Contest? I guessed the number of beans in a jar at Camp Glisson. I was awarded the beans.

Been in a car accident? 6 or 7 since 1963. Only two have been my fault.

Had braces? No

Eaten a whole pint of ice cream or a whole package of cookies at a sitting? I am sure I have.

Witnessed a crime? No

Swam in the ocean? Yep. I love the ocean, but I’m not big on swimming in it.

Sung karaoke? Yes. Most recently I led our fourth-grade teachers in karaoke versions of "Monster Mash" and "Purple People Eater" for our school fall festival. It was a schoolyard smash!

Paid for a meal with only coins? Some youngster wrote this question. I remember 10 cent hamburgers. As late as 1970 I was eating a full home-cooked meal at Opal’s Diner in Eleanor WV every third day. It cost a dollar even. I’m sure I occasionally paid in quarters.

Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose? Yep, again. I don’t have a specific memory. But I can conjure the sensation easily.

Crashed a party? No

Worn Pearls? Pearl’s what?

Jumped off a bridge? At a swimming hole near Red House WV

Eaten dog/cat food? Yuck!!!!

Kissed a mirror? What?!!

Glued your hand to something? Super Glue!

Been kissed under mistletoe? And other greenery. Not all girls know mistletoe in the wild and others are willing to imagine the mistletoe.

Done a one-handed cartwheel? I wish.

Talked on the phone for more than 2 hours? I doubt it. Close a time or two.

Didn't take a shower for a week? Never! That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. (And to my clothes.)

Picked and eaten an apple right off the tree? Yes.

Been told by a complete stranger that you're hot? It happens all the time to us hefty 58-year-olds. The animal magnetism is just more than some women can resist, I guess.

Modified School Calendar and some guy named Steve Gill

Hosting a Talk Show Must be a Tough Job

Steve Gill is evidently some sort of talk show host on a radio station in or around Nashville TN. I've never heard him. But my sister has and she mentioned on her blog, The Median Sib, that this guy has been bloviating about the cushy job we teachers have. He was, she said, upset at the "nitwit" idea of schools going to a modified calendar in his area.

I am a public school teacher: I know about "nits". And I fancy I know something about wit as well. Don't we all.

We've been using the modified calendar for a couple of years in our school system and I think it's great. Everyone I know who is associated with our school likes it as far as I know. I have heard no complaints except from outside the system. There are those that don't like it, I'm sure, but I haven't heard them.

As the Median Sib has said, the modified (or "balanced" or "extended") calendar makes no difference at all in the number of days of paid work for teachers. I suspect the county gets a few extra days of unpaid work out of most teachers as they use some of the "intersession" time to plan for the coming quarter. I always work at least one day, usually more, of intersession on planning, etc. unpaid. I usually work 4 or 5 official winter intersession days each year teaching. I get paid a little extra for that and that's nice. I encourage my students to come to winter intersession so I can work with my own students. I know what they need to catch up on.

After spending eleven years in the "private sector" I have an appreciation for the perks, privileges, and advantages of teaching. I like teaching. But I suspect this talk-show host has no idea of the pressure, paperwork, daily preparation, and aggravations of teaching. It is DEFINITELY NOT a 9-5 job. (It's a 7:30-4 or 5; then 8 or 9 -10 or midnight, and more time on the weekends job.)

I wonder how many hours our talk show host puts in on his job per day, and year. I am not in his position and so can only guess. I would guess it's more than the few hours we hear him on the radio each day.

I suspect, though, he does not prepare a detailed plan for his hours of programming, documenting objectives for each hour, writing essential questions, showing how the listeners of different abilities, skills, and handicaps will be provided for in each part of the broadcast.

Does he gather manipulatives, set up experiments, reserve books, videos and other resources, print and organize materials? Does he create evaluations to prove that he is accomplishing his goals? That his listeners are understanding and retaining the information he is dishing out?

Does he eat lunch in a noisy cafeteria where he shepherds 25 listeners through the lunchline and has twenty minutes to wolf down his own meal before helping those 25 unruly listeners get out of the cafeteria for a fifteen minute outdoor play period that he supervises? Does he help settle who pushed whom and who does/doesn't like whom? And does he take temperatures and apply band-aids and hugs to make booboos better?

I am not sure he schedules a lot of meetings with the relatives of his listeners to give and receive feedback on how his listeners are doing.

I wonder how often he has to deal with counseling listeners who have lost parents through death or divorce; deal with little girls terrified at changes in their bodies; check his listeners hair for head lice; put up with the three elementary school "p"s - puke, pee or poop - in his studio. I could go on.

Talk show hosting has its pressures, I'm sure, but I am ignorant of them. Just as he is ignorant of, and guessing about, our jobs.

Steve, you are guessing wrong.

Whoops! Many of my comments have disappeared!

When I added the "Haloscan" commenting to my blog, some of the comments to recent posts disappeared. I like the new commenting, but I'm sorry to have lost my old comments. Oh, well.

An Off-the-cuff Serial Autobiography (Arachniphobia - 2004)

Arachniphobia

Our school is an official "Environmental education" school and we pride ourselves on our use of our outdoor classroom gardens, our participation in the sturgeon release program, our bog garden, our milkweed, passion flower, and other butterfly food plots, our tiny American chesnut recovery grove , our outdoor classroom, and our nature trail. When we find an interesting bug of any sort, we tend to capture and display them. We were proud to parade several black widow spiders from class to class in bug barns -- though the pest control company made an extra visit to dispatch their brethren. We ocasionally have rodent visitors from the woods and fields take refuge in our building. One little terrified mouse was chased from room to room for several days before the janitor's sticky trap caught him. Nature guru, Ms. Lindsey, carefully peeled his feet from the glue and released him into the woods!

So when my sister Carol included the phrase "...spiders and other insects..." on her blog I couldn't resist a little arthropod lesson. I enjoyed correcting and teasing her for that common mistake of classifying all "bugs" as "insects". As it turned out I had misread her words, she did not mean to imply that spiders are insects.

Spiders and other arachnids are not insects, of course. They have eight legs, claw-like mouth parts, two body sections, and no antennae. Insects have six legs, three body parts, jaw-like mouth parts, and antennae.

As a matter of fact, the term "true bugs" is correctly applied to insects, but only to the order of insects known as Hemiptera - "half-wing" insects like wheel bugs, milkweed bugs, water boatmen, stink bugs and such.

Carol's story of spiders at school reminded me of the Great Spider Uproar at our school last year.

As we ate lunch in the teachers' little lunchroom one day, a big wolf spider crawled under our table. Ms. Lindsey and I noticed it, remarked at its size and beauty, as we sipped our tea and munched our sandwiches.

"Oh, look at that spider!" exclaimed my co-worker.
"Wow!" articulated yours truly, "What a beaut! I'll get a cup to catch him in and we can examine him in science class this afternoon."

At the next table sat my lovely little student teacher. "Did you say "Spider?!"

"Yes," I replied enthusiastically, "As soon as I catch him I'll let you see."

She leapt upon the table.

Having grown-up as the big brother of three younger sisters (and two older ones) I naturally perceived an opportunity to tease a girl, the favorite occupation of my youth. By now holding the spider in my hands, I held it aloft to display it.

The student teacher screamed as if mortally injured. She leapt from the table in the opposite direction and ran down the adjacent hallway in terror. Realizing (Duh!) that I was dealing with more than ordinary squeamishness, I quickly deposited the spider out-of-doors.

When I returned, I found my wonderful arachniphobic student teacher in wretched tears and myself in unbearable embarrassment. I had had no idea! Her history includes a car wrecked at the sight of a spider, and an hour crouched atop a table in terror till her father returned home to squoosh and remove a spider! A true arachniphobe!

Charles Shaw

My Daddy

Today is the anniversary of the saddest day in my life so far. In a way, I should be grateful. So many people have had greater tragedy in their lives. I have relatives who have lost young fathers and sons. I have lost close friends at much younger ages. My Daddy was 67 when he died suddenly, of a heart attack, in 1986. He had led a busy and successful life. He grabbed life by the horns and he loved his family and friends fiercely and without reserve.

My sisters, Carol and Joan, have posts on their blogs about my daddy. Joan's is named Daddy's Roses. Today, Carol has posted an article she wrote about Daddy a few years after his death. My mother has been posting autobiographical sketches in her blog, Ruthlace. One is about her eventful "visit" with Daddy in San Diego before he shipped off to the Pacific with the Marine Corps in 1944.

Another sister, Beth, has paid tribute to my father on the web site she maintains for the little mill town where he grew up, Milstead, Georgia.

I've expressed grief over Daddy's death in poetry several times. Here are two poems.

The first is about the grief therapy I found in being able to complete, with the help of my brother and even my beautiful little three-year-old daughter, Daddy's Christmas woodworking projects for his grandchildren.

The second is about the sadness I feel that my youngest wasn't able to know her granddaddy and the fear that perhaps his death was even necessary to the miracle that she is. (My poetry is replete with references to ways that, paradoxically, good sometimes springs from evil: A morbid fascination of mine.)

In Daddy's Workshop, The Day He Died December 3, 1986 for Charles Shaw, 1919-1986 Scraps of pine, pieces of oak await his hands measuring, guiding the teeth of a saw, the bite of a router, the grit of a sander, color from a brush, the polishing rag. His stubby fingers trace the shaped edges; test the smooth surface. Scent of pine, and pungent oak mingle with his in the denim jacket on a nail near the door, with pocketed pencil and tape handy. He stands here, hours ago, the great boy, planning his surprise, sketching, exploring the shapes to be formed. Scraps of pine, pieces of oak want cutting, shaping, sanding, shining; cry to be more: sled, cradle, rocking horse; await his hands. He speaks to the scraps and pieces: "Tomorrow I'll buy maple for the runners." Tomorrow is here; and he is here in scraps and pieces in scent and plans; and here am I, his hands. Scraps of pine, pieces of oak cry to the him in me: You have rockers, ends, planks, plans, and three weeks till Christmas.

(Added 1-03-08: Hear me read this poem in this podcast.)

---

All Things Work Together: A Daughter is Born to Lillian If Daddy hadn't died, would this poem be? -- A bull through china, the ugly thought crashes -- Would his longer thread in the mesh of years obstruct by chance that one in a trillion accident of love, coincidence of sperm and egg? -- The breakage, unmanaged, scatters and scratches! -- Could his garden bugs these years have fed a nest of wrens to send a wanderer to my window? And letting a living poem sleep, might I have written, instead, the wren? -- Bull-headed I sweep the debris -- If Daddy lives, must the poem vanish? I weep for my Daddy; I mourn the wren that never was; And welcome you to my heart, my present poem.

(Added 1-03-08: Hear me read this poem in this podcast.)

_________________________________________________________________

The wonderful gift my father gave each of his children was unconditional love. Whatever else was going on in his life or ours, each of the seven of his offspring knew: Charles Shaw loves me and will be there for me if I need him regardless of miles or expense. Thank you, Daddy.

McCarthy is Alive and in the White House.

Deja Vu All Over Again

It was a time of great fear. An enemy appeared that seemed to have no compunction executing horrible atrocities. They murdered their own people over political differences. Small cells of adherants grew up all over the world and operated clandestinely to try to infiltrate societies and governments everywhere. It was a time rife with opportunity for anyone willing to exploit fear for profit and fame. Joseph McCarthy was willing.

It was a dangerous time for democracy. Many people were, in fear, ready to abandon the very freedoms they ostensibly sought to protect.

You cannot read about the McCarthy years without seeing plain parallels to our own time. Read the vicious rants of McCarthy and you taste the venom of the Limbaughs and Coulters of today. Read the blogs of the right-wing today and you hear the emotional twins of the scared mobs ready to ostrasize, ruin the careers of, lock up, smear, anyone with real or imagined associations with communists. Ready to tar anyone who disagreed as "anti-American". Today, again, one cannot just disagree. To the right-wing, dissent is "anti-American".

The situations are so similar.

1. A very real, very evil enemy: Communists, then; Radical Islamists, now.

2. Real heroes of the fight against these enemies: Then - Harry Truman and (eventually) Dwight Eisenhower. Then and now - our military; a few determined journalists; a few responsible Democratic and Republican members of congress.

3. Charlatans promoting panic, fear, and hate for their own ends: Then McCarthy, J. Edgar Hoover, the right-wing press, lots of Republicans and a few Democrats; today, the neo-conservatives led by the President of the United States [GWB: "America must not ignore the threat gathering against us. Facing clear evidence of peril, we cannot wait for the final proof -- the smoking gun -- that could come in the form of a mushroom cloud."] , the right-wing press and its echo-chamber talk-shows; lots of Republicans and a few Democrats.

4. A legitimately fearful public latching onto supposed security at the expense of freedom, and in the process endangering both by heeding, at least temporarily, the demagogue.

Benjamin Franklin said ‘‘They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."

God bless America and protect her, once again, from those who, in their fear of terrorism, would trade our freedoms for security. Those folks are more dangerous, in the long run, than even Stalin or Bin Laden.

Cousins, Rice, Sea Legs, and Multiplication

Multiplying People, Rice and Readers

My sister wrote about a rice tale on her blog. (The Median Sib- scroll down near the bottom of the page.) I've read the rice tale. It's in one of our reading books, but that version is called "The Rajah's Rice", I think. It teaches the power of multiplication.

When we start talking about multiplication each year, I greet my fourth grade students with: "Hello, Cousin Jenny, Cousin Joe," ... etc. They ask why I'm calling them cousins. I say, "Well all of us are cousins aren't we?" Eventually I say I can prove it's true. And I start doubling parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and going back 25 years per generation. By the time we get to 1492 or so we're past a million ancestors apiece. A few generations more and we each have more ancestors than the earth had people at the time. We are all cousins.

I have enjoyed The Median Sib's discussions of kids' books. (She also tackles that subject on her other blog: The Reading Teacher.) I love children's literature. I would have thought that I had read most of the Newbery Award winners during 25 years of teaching elementary school, but when I counted them up, I'd only read about twenty out of 84. I've been trying to better that record since early this year. I've now read over half of them.

They are all good so far, but some are definitely not really the best of their year of publication. And a couple are just strange.

And some books that make my all-time favorites list didn't make the Newbery commmittee's cut for the best children's book for eht year of its publication. Charlotte's Web, Hatchet, The Lion's Paw, The Little House books, Bristle Face, and Jim Kjelgaard's books are beloved but un-Award-ed. (Several received other awards or the "runner-up" Newbery Honor.)

I’ve recently read a new silly book called Sea Legs by a British author, Alex Shearer. I laughed out loud several times. Nothing deep. Just a good kids’ book. It’s about a set of twins who stow away on a cruise ship. My student twins were eagar to read it when I told my class about it. Since they were in the middle of other big books I loaned my copy to another student first. It is now being read by one of my twins though he had to wait through three students before he got a turn. Each reader has speculated about which fictional twin is most like each of our real twins.

And today we finished The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. That gives us time to read The Best Christmas Pageant Ever before the Christmas break. I have Imogene Herdman in my class this year. I wonder if my students will notice.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Aslan is Dead!

Yesterday, I read aloud to my fourth-graders the chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in which Aslan (the Lion, King of Narnia) sacrifices himself, willingly, to save the boy Edmund. My favorite part of teaching is reading to my students or telling them stories. There are especially rewarding moments. Aslan’s death is one, as strange as it might seem. It is a moment of absolute quiet in my usually not-quiet classroom. 23 ten-year-olds were hanging on each word that C.S. Lewis wrote.

He’s Alive!

The equally rewarding other moment comes quickly. I read that moment in the next chapter today. It is when we discover that there is a “deeper magic” and we romp with Aslan and Susan and Lucy as they celebrate his return. What fun!! My classroom quickly became not-quiet again.

My pastor, David Campbell, wrote about Narnia in our church newsletter today. Have a read.

I’m looking forward to the release of the new Narnia movie in a few days. I hope Disney will forgive me using a detail of their movie poster above. Click on Aslan's picture to visit the movie website.

Harry Potter, Children's Books

Pottermania and
Random Book Notes

Harry is certainly not Frodo or Huck or Holden, but I always enjoy the books and movies. Actually the Third (The Prisoner of Azkaban) was my favorite until the latest. It is my favorite now.

We have been part of the crazed ones, I'm afraid. Sheila and I went out at midnight on the release date to buy the last book and delivered copies of it to Lil and her friends on the choir retreat.
We were in Vermont when the fifth book was released. We had a ball at the Potter Party at a bookstore in Manchester, where the staff, dressed as dementors, solemnly marched forth with boxes of books at midnight.

The books have remained fresh to me. I've been surprised that Rowling's managed to keep them interesting. Only one more to go... seven years at Hogwarts you know.

And our family saw the latest movie last weekend. It is the best of the four, in my mind. Lil saw it twice. She and Harry have grown up together.

I always enjoy seeing movies of books I have read, just to see how the director and cast interpret it. I loved the Lord of the Rings movies, even though I was sometimes disappointed at what was left out or changed.

I've tended to get kinda obsessive about authors all my life. When I find one I like I tend to read all their books -- even when they've amply illustrated their inconsistencies. I've read every Robb White book that I’ve been able to get my hands on, even though several have been disappointing, because the good ones (especially The Lion’s Paw) have been so much fun. Zachary Ball only wrote one really good kid's book as far as I can tell, (Bristle Face) but I have felt compelled to keep reading, hoping for another flash of brilliance. Sputters, the Bristle Face sequel, wasn’t bad. I've read lots of Agatha Christie books, and some of them are just atrocious. I have read most of Jan Karon’s too. Not exactly spellbinding but I’m all involved with the characters. When I was a kid I read all The Hardy Boys books in our library and then snuck a Nancy Drew or two. I went through a biography phase and read all the “boyhood” biographies. I read the Grisham books as they are published and the Jean Auels.
As an elementary teacher I latch onto certain children’s authors: Cornelia Funke, Beverly Cleary, Avi, Andrew Clements, Jerry Spinelli.

I am currently on a tear to finish all the Newbery Award winners. I’m into the older ones now. I just finished a wonderful old one: Roller Skates by Ruth Sawyer. Even 70 years ago kids’ authors were tackling some big issues - an unhappy marriage, a murder, bullying, the death of a child, a child’s profane outburst, poverty - all handled with grace and style.

My sister, Carol, shares my love of good kids’ books. She has a blog dedicated to children’s literature and the teaching of reading, The Reading Teacher.

Is this a Malaprop?

How about a Trapezoid Circle?

I thought of this sign when I read my sister's blog about malaprops. I spose the folks who named this little strip mall in Rockmart knew the absurdity of the name, but it always tickles me when I pass it. So, we took a picture.

The stores, by the way, are laid out in a nice straight line.

from Congressman John Murtha

The Presence of Our Troops is Driving the Insurgency

General Casey said in a September 2005 Hearing, “the perception of occupation in Iraq is a major driving force behind the insurgency.” General Abizaid said on the same date, “Reducing the size and visibility of the coalition forces in Iraq is a part of our counterinsurgency strategy.”

Check out the actual words of Congressman Murtha.

Republican Sen. Chuck Hagel

The America the World Needs to See

“What distinguishes America is not our power, for the world has known great power. It is America’s purpose and our commitment to making a better life for all people. That is the America the world needs to see. A wise, thoughtful and steady nation, worthy of its power, generous of spirit, and humble in its purpose.”

Check out what this Republican Senator has to say.

An Off-the-cuff Serial Autobiography (An Episode of 1969)

Spare the Rod, Ichabod Shaw -- 1969

As a beginning teacher in 1969 I was philosophically opposed to corporal punishment, even though it was routinely used in almost all southern schools. I explained my hesitation to use such a brutal method of classroom management to my good friend, Mike, who was teaching in an inner city school. Mike scoffed at my high and mighty attitude.

“You’ll spank,” he declared, “Wait till a few spit wads whiz past your noggin. And when you do, let me explain how to do it.”

He proceeded to describe how to administer one very hard whack to the buttocks in a way definitely memorable to the spankee, but not likely to cause bruising or lasting injury.

A few weeks later the teaching principal, Mr. Smith, called me in to watch his class for the afternoon while he attended a meeting at the central office. He stood me before his 35 coalmine town seventh graders, several a head or more taller and pounds heavier than me.

“This is Mr. Shaw, your substitute teacher. Mr. Shaw will not hesitate to use the Black Dragon,” he proclaimed as he pulled a two foot long paddle made of oak and wrapped in black electrical tape out of a drawer and laid it on the desk, “so you had best behave!”

As Mr. Smith left the building the spit wads began to fly. Another thirty minutes and philosophy gave way to reality. I waved the Black Dragon in desperation and picked my victim from the many candidates.

“Rocky, come with me to the cloakroom,” I growled at the biggest, meanest boy in the school. I hoped the class would not notice my hands quaking as I followed him out of the classroom.
“Empty your back pockets and put your hands on the wall.”

Rocky did as he was told - with a bit of a smirk on his face. Following Mike’s instructions I swung the Dragon in an upward arc and whacked the fleshiest section of the boy’s hind parts once only.

It may have only been my ears, but the report of that paddle rivaled any gun I’d heard. I was convinced every human ear within a mile had heard it. I was sure my career was over before it could really begin. Surely someone would call the cops. I felt tears welling in my own eyes, but managed to choke out a fairly even, “Rocky, I hope you have learned your lesson. Now go have a seat.”

To my astonishment Rocky answered meekly, “Yes, Sir.” As he turned toward the classroom I saw big tears glistening in his eyes.

His classmates had heard the whack and they saw the tears.
All was changed. A pin drop in that classroom would have snapped every head to attention. Lessons proceeded with quiet earnestness.

That was the only paddling I administered that year. Rocky did not seem hurt physically or emotionally, and in fact, changed his ways. He even joined and took a leadership role in the boys’ club I organized in the community as part of my Teacher Corps duties.

Paddlings had some advantages. They did stop bad behavior, at least temporarily. Paddlings were over quickly and lessons could go forward without the drawn-out sermonizing by the teacher and extended pouting by the student that often accompany the “time-outs”, school “discipline forms”, “in-school suspension”, etc. of today.

We no longer paddle students in our schools: that is good. But I am convinced that a paddling was needed that day in 1969. I don't regret it.

Torture, Terrorism, Abu Ghraib, Black Sites

Our Own Worst Enemy

Yes. We are, sometimes, our own worst enemy.

Take the Bush treatment of prisoners from the Afghan and Iraqi wars.

It is not a great leap from unconcern about the treatment of accused terrorists to unconcern about mistreatment of other prisoners or political enemies.

Treating prisoners inhumanely is incredibly stupid. It inspires revenge. It embitters a generation or two or three. It repels potential allies. It is also un-American and un-Christian and unwise. It plays right into the hands of the terrorists. No act committed by the terrorists themselves has helped the terrorists' cause so much as the Bush Administration's amateurish, clumsy and wrongheaded policies regarding prisoners, which, intentionally or not, led to the Abu Ghraib disgrace. (Well, OK, the Iraq war itself has helped Al Qaeda recover from the defeat in Afghanistan and divided the anti-terrorist world. But no part of the Iraq war has hurt us more than the prisoner abuse.)

Hacking of heads, roadside bombs, suicide missions: these are terrorist acts. They are grisly, beastly, unimaginably cruel. Yep, that's terrorism. These barbarous acts are the evil history of every war in all ages. In my book the Abu Ghraib atrocities and “black sites” (and My Lai, Andersonville, Wounded Knee, etc) are worse for America, not because they are more bloody or more evil in themselves, of course they are not; but because they initiate Americans as junior members of the society of the brutes of Baghdad and their predecessors of Germany, Japan, the Spanish Inquisition, etc, etc., etc.

The entire Bush response to the terrorists has been wrongheaded. I say that not because I believe we should be pacifists. Heavens, no. We should respond with devastating and righteous fury against proven terrorists. But we should respond as Americans who believe the words of our founding documents, who believe that all men are created equal and endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights. Whenever we disregard basic human rights, I believe we disregard and diminish our heritage and our moral standing in the world. In short we defeat ourselves. We fail our forefathers.

We become our own worst enemies.

An Off-the-cuff Serial Autobiography

Chapter the First:

1947-1954

The doctor examined the expectant mother and recommended she return home; that baby wasn't coming soon. So she walked with her husband to the car, then quickly walked back to the clinic.  I was born a few minutes later, about 12:20 a.m. on March 22, 1947. Daddy, just back from service in World War Two, was a mill worker in the very small Callaway Mills town, Milstead, just outside Conyers, Georgia.

My two older sisters had been born before the war. I came along after my Marine daddy got back from the South Pacific. A little sister was born in ‘49.
All I remember from those first three years in Georgia are my best next door neighbor friend, and vague images of taking my Daddy his lunch at the mill with my older sisters, and the surreal sight of a truck loaded with dead dogs during a rabies epidemic.

Daddy accepted a call to ministry and moved us up highways 41 and 27 to Wilmore, Ky, in 1950, so he could finish college at Asbury and begin his career as a Methodist minister. We lived first in “GI Barracks” near the campus where I had my fifth birthday party but was too sick with a bad cold to enjoy it. We had to ford a creek in the car to visit some of Daddy’s church members.

There another sister was born. Daddy served little churches in southern Ohio and central Kentucky during his college days. I started school in little Mackville, Ky. I remember the story of one of my little classmates, a girl, falling into the outhouse pit. I wonder where that woman is now.

I remember walking to school that first day holding on to my mother’s hand. I remember going to the county seat to get my smallpox vaccination.

I learned some cuss words at school and brought them home to the consternation of my parents. Daddy killed big snakes in the furnace room of the church one morning... to the consternation of his farmer parishioners who said the big rat snakes would have been welcomed around their barns.
Sometime during this period we spent the summer in Georgia. We rented a little house in the middle of big cotton fields. I remember a board swing in a big tree that went really high. I remember Mama drying apples and peaches in the sun to preserve them for fried pies and such during later months.
I loved my Daddy’s parents and brothers. They came to Kentucky to visit once or twice. They always made a point of bringing me a big jar of Bama Apple Butter. That was special. Daddy Shaw and the whole bunch came down with food poisoning on one trip. Daddy Shaw loved to regale us with stories. When he talked about that trip he’d always say that he finally just pulled up a bush and took it in the car with him so he wouldn’t be caught without one when the need arose.
Dinners on the grounds at church included a strange dish called “cushaw” that I haven’t run into since 1954. According to online dictionaries it’s a crook necked pumpkin or squash. Anyway, I didn’t like it. I did like “banana croquettes” banana halves rolled in mayonnaise and crushed peanuts -- yum!

From the Fifties Forever website:

BANANA CROQUETTES
Chop or blend: 3 parts peanuts to one part saltine crackers
Cut bananas in half;
totally coat bananas with mayonnaise or salad dressing;
then lightly roll in peanut mixture.
Serve on a leaf of lettuce.

Another treat for the preacher’s kid was the monthly Men’s Club meeting at the little country church where a pot of hotdogs were heated on the potbellied stove. I remember Vacation Bible School when my Dad pulled a trailer slowly around the farm roads collecting children for a hayride to VBS. That was many years before seat-belts and car seats.

And I remember a special lady friend at Antioch church who invited me to sit with her in church. I loved to sing “When the Roll is Call Up Yonder”.

My two older sisters were beautiful and popular. Janice played the piano and was a cheerleader. Joan was quieter and intellectual. They baby-sat me and my two younger sisters. I worshipped them.
As for my younger sisters, I was proud of saving Carol’s life. I bravely slew an evil spider that was aiming to do her in. It was, no doubt, a deadly black widow. I then assumed the role of guardian knight to my younger sisters and have been appalled to discover that they did not always view me in that light.
When we packed the trailer to move back to Georgia there was no room for my sled and, given Georgia weather, my parents decided to give it away. I never forgave them. (j/k!)

Beyond-the-personal magic

I thought it would be fun to take up Carol's challenge to use my magic wand. I should steer clear of politics after my lengthy opening manifesto, but I can't help myself. Several of these concern political big moments.

Ten national and international swoops of my wand during my lifetime, realizing that some might prove mutually exclusive:

10. The IBM board of Directors inexplicably names Steve Jobs CEO and Chairman in 1974 merging that company with little Apple Computer. (Young Bill Gates decides to finish college before entering the business world, thereby saving a generation from the C prompt and then Windows.)

9. President Eisenhower decides to let the Vietnamese settle their own affairs, Senators Kennedy and Johnson praise his decision and pledge their support for keeping the US out of that civil war.

8. Police redirect that caravan of cars in Dallas in 1963 a block away from the School Book Depository building

7. James Earl Ray stumbles going up the stairs and fatally shoots himself in 1968. There’s a small article about Ray on page nine of the same Memphis newspaper that contains a big wrap-up article on page one about MLK’s successful visit to the city.

6. Tape recordings of campaign meetings reveal the real Richard Nixon in October 1968.

5. The complete military record of a certain pampered rich Texas boy is publically revealed in October 2000.

4. A sandstorm in Iran mysteriously vanishes before the helicopters take off in 1980, and the hostage rescue goes off like clockwork.

3. Osama keeps to his original schedule on August 20, 1998.

2. The arteries of a certain Ayatollah clog suddenly while he’s still in exile in Paris sometime before 1979.

1. Election officials reject the stupid butterfly ballot design before the print deadline in the Fall of 2000.

(Bonus Shazam!!) Ronald Reagan is awarded the Best Actor Oscar for his signature role in Bedtime for Bonzo and signs a multi-million dollar lifetime contract to continue his acting career.

Odd Man Out

Alone on A Limb

What I write below is very serious and important to me. I promise that all my blogs will not be political in nature, but I love my country and cannot ignore issues like those I discuss below. If this bothers you, my blog may not be for you.

VACLAV HAVEL said:
"You do not become a "dissident" just because you decide one day to take up this most unusual career. You are thrown into it by your personal sense of responsibility..."

OK, I don't fear for my life at family reunions. But I am the family dissident. So, another quote, this time from EDWARD R. MURROW:
"We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When the loyal opposition dies, I think the soul of America dies with it."

I am alone among my siblings. We are a big, loving, hugging, boisterous, generally strong-willed bunch. Five sisters, two brothers and my mother. We vacation together almost every year with our spouses and children and even grandchildren. We usually get along well.

Like the rest of the country, though, we are split by politics. Unfortunately for me, however, our family is not split down the middle: all five sisters, my brother, and my mother have become very conservative Republicans. I am the the odd man out.

I am a Democrat.

I love the founding documents of our country.
I revere the founding fathers.
I believe in civil rights for all.
I believe dissent is a responsibility of citizenship.

I believe in the separation of church and state as being best for both.
I believe our government should protect minority rights.
I believe that we have a cultural heritage that should not be denied or ignored. The Christian faith is a huge part of that heritage.
I believe also that we must be more sensitive than our fathers to the fact that many loyal Americans are not Christian.

I believe in stringent environmental protection.
I believe that the government should, for the public good, provide good roads, a strong national defense, effective emergency management, outstanding public schools, basic housing and food for the poorest among us, support for the arts, good public broadcasting, mass transit in cities, inter-city and cross-country passenger rail service, for starters.

I believe the activities, associations, living arrangements, or lifestyles of adults should concern the government only if it interferes with the life, liberty, property or health of others.
I believe no person, however stupid or misguided, should be forced to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term. Abortion should be safe, legal, and rare.

I believe in our right as a people to covenant together to provide universal health care to our citizens.
I believe those of us who, through some combination of intelligence, hard work, learned skills, and good fortune, have been financially well-rewarded should pay the largest part of the expenses to provide the services and protections I have described.

I believe torture is always wrong and incredibly stupid and any president or vice president or other official who advocates relaxing that rule cannot be trusted with the powers of his/her office.
I believe all persons are created equal and endowed by their Creator with unalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I believe we should go to war only when there is a clear national interest that can be protected no other way and when there is a strong consensus among the people to support the war.
I believe that lying, exaggerating, or hyping information in order to take our country to war is a high crime.

I therefore believe the current occupant of the White House is right out there with Richard Nixon and James Buchanan in the race for the most dangerous President of all time. With the right wing in total control of all three branches of government, a major "news" network, an intricate right-wing "religious" political consortium, and a huge talk-show echo chamber, it isn't likely to be practical to impeach him. He deserves it.

A final quote, this time from a Nazi, HERMANN GOERING:
"Naturally the common people don't want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. That is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country."

Probably most of the folks who visit this blog (if anyone does) will be my family. Except for my wife and daughters, I expect my family will disagree with me. I'm sorry I'm alone out on this limb of our family tree. But I've been pushed out here by my "personal sense of responsibility". To abandon my limb while I have these beliefs would be cowardly and unpatriotic.

I hope my wonderful family will at least understand me better for what I write here.

I welcome brief polite comments in support or disagreement. Those who have long responses should post links to their own blogs in a brief comment. I will delete any impolite comments.

Gleaning Facebook: Goofy Teacher

For Halloween. 

Time Machine: Annie- Albert Reunion

 

Michell Evans

Today we at Trinity said goodbye and celebrated the life of Mitchell Evans who has been a quiet but very active leader in our church for many years. I was privileged to be a part of the memorial service for this good man.

Betty Sanders

What a character Betty Sanders was. Sheila and I sang with Betty in the choir at Trinity United Methodist Church for several years.

From Mother's 1984 Christmas letter

Here is the online obituary:

Betty Curry Sanders died at her home November 20, 2003 after a brief illness. She was born December 30, 1928 to the late John W. and Connie Curry in LaGrange, GA. She is survived by her husband of 55 years, The Rev. James Sanders with whom she served in The United Methodist ministry all their married life. She is also survived by two sons, two daughters and their spouses: Lamar and Melissa Sanders of Douglasville, William L. Sanders and Linda Dunham-Sanders of Atlanta, Alice and Wally Bell of Acworth and Laura Bishop-Collette and Joe Collette of Marietta, eight grandchildren, and a brother, Don Curry of LaGrange. Betty taught school for 25 years in Pike, Cobb and Rockdale counties.

 

She was active in the churches they served teaching Sunday School, playing piano, organ and hand bells, singing in the choir and actively serving through the United Methodist Women. At one time she was Conference reporter to The Wesleyan Advocate and also District UMW Treasurer of the Decatur-Oxford District.

 

She was an active member of the United Methodist Children's Home Auxiliary, participated in the work of Villa International, Global Health and Cancer Sewing at The First United Methodist Church of Decatur where she held her church membership. Playing her vibraharp and accordion she frequently did programs at nursing homes, churches and civic groups.

 

Visitation will be at A. S. Turner & Sons Funeral Home, North Decatur Road Friday 2:00-4:00 and 6:00-8:00 pm Services will be held Saturday, 11:00 am at Grace United Methodist Church, 458 Ponce de Leon Avenue, Atlanta where they have served in retirement for the past six years. Visitation also at the church at 10:00 am. Dr. John Beyers, Dr. Sam Coker and The Rev. Royeese Stowe will officiate. Burial will follow at The Winters Chapel Church Cemetery, Doraville, GA.

 

In lieu of flowers, contributions may be sent to The United Methodist Children's Home, Decatur or to projects of United Methodist Women through your local church. A. S. Turner & Sons 

An online photo of a young Betty.

 

Time Machine: Jessica's Graduation May 2003

Jessica's high school graduation photo - 2003

2009 Facebook Comments

Jessica Rogers
Wow. I graduated 6 years ago, so that photo's about 7 years old.

Terrell Shaw
Beautiful girl! I am just gradually scanning all the loose pics in this box. Yours is probably the newest pic in the bunch.

Katie Shaw Leshko
whoa! I remember that! Besides hairstyle, you haven't changed much… or maybe that's just because I always see you 

 

Time Machine: Cody Lee Burton