I am fortunate. I get it. I grew up in the late 70s/early 80s in New Jersey. We lived in an area where you could watch some great sports. The Yankees were in 4 World Series and the Mets won the World Series in 1986. The 76ers won two NBA titles and made it to a 3rd championship series. The Rangers made it to the Stanley Cup Finals, the Islanders won 4 in a row and 4 out of 5, the Flyers made it a couple. The New York Arrows won the MISL championship (even though we grew up as fans of the Philadelphia Fever). And then there was the best collection of players in a sport - ever. The New York Cosmos won 4 NASL championships and lost a 5th.
It is simply not an argument that the Cosmos had the greatest collection of players at any time. Pele. Beckenbauer. Chinaglia. Roth. Carlos Alberto. Bogie. Chinapoo. Rick Davis. Messing. And that is without thinking about it too hard! Simply no better collection of stars on one team in any sport ever.
So growing up, it was pretty easy. I went to Yankees games at Yankee Stadium. I went to Phillies games at the Vet. I went to Mets games at Shea Stadium. Flyers and 76er games at the Spectrum. Rangers were at MSG with the Knicks and the Isles played at Nassau Coliseum. Of course, the Cosmos were at Giants Stadium at the Meadowlands. Every where I looked, it was winner-winner-chicken dinner.
I was also fortunate that my dad and his friends knew a lot of people. A lot of people. I sat close to the floor for the 76ers. I went to a player meet and greet with a friend in NYC and the friend's dad got us autographs from all of the stars. I met several Cosmos, including Pele and Werner Roth, my soccer hero growing up. It was a special time - and sadly one I didn't realize was special at the time.
Last night I went to the Sacramento Republic FC game. I have been a handful of times. And let me tell you - these people simply get it. When we arrive, there is music. There are food trucks. There are souvenirs for everyone from the babies to the granddads (and grandma's too!). There is a crowd ready to cheer on their team. But it is so much more.
Tell me what other sports team has the owner walking around mingling with the fans. And while he could cop the "I own this team and you don't attitude," he simply doesn't. I refer to him as Mr. Smith, but plenty of fans call him Warren. And he responds to that! I know we are less formal these days and my clients call me by my first name and not Mr. too. I also don't own the most successful soccer team in Sacramento! I even saw him doing some manual labor pre-game to make sure everything goes off without a hitch!
Next I see Fred Matthes, VP of Ticket sales, moving chairs and making sure everything runs smoothly. He talks to everyone from the VIPs to the season ticket holders to people who bought tickets just for the 1 game. Of course, he is assisted by a great group of people including Megan Springmeir, who might be the best Corporate Account Executive in the country. Seriously. She understands how to deal with people.
I could go on and on about these people. Brent Sasaki walked around and was talking to people, answering some questions about things like why the clock stops at 45 minutes to talking to sponsors. They were all so approachable.
But beyond the personnel, there are the players. I remember the glory days of sports. You could sit at Giants Stadium after a game and get autographs. You could hang out by the players entrance and get autographs. An autograph as a kid was a huge deal. Somewhere along the way, this changed. I blame idiots who try to monetize sports memorabilia. Anyway, it changed and it was no longer possible to get autographs.
But at every game I go to, the players are signing autographs. After the game, they walk up to the stands and thank the fans. They sign shirts for the kids, they sign balls and programs and anything else. They do it with a smile and a few nice words to the kids.
Now, to you and I, this may not be a big deal. But to a 5 year old or a 10 year old or a 12 year old, this is a huge deal. The kids look up to these guys. They are "heroes" although I hate to use that word. But the kids want to be like these guys. They see the players as role models, especially ones who want to grow up to play professional sports. So the attitude and friendliness of the players makes all the difference in the world to the kids.
And notice that in all of this, I never mentioned the quality of the play. It is excellent. It is, by far, some of the best soccer you can see. I don't care if you call it "minor league" or "lower division." These guys can play. And play well. But, despite being the league champs, they come out to play their hardest every game. Every single time. Its just such a joy to watch.
I get professional sports. I have seen it when it was accessible. I have seen it when the best of the best play together, but also make sure the kids get that experience that you can only get from sports. Sac Republic gives that experience still.
So there you go. A big tip of the hat to Sac Republic. Warren Smith has assembled a fantastic group of people and they know what they are doing. If you have not been to a game yet and you are a soccer fan, make sure you go. If you have not been to a game yet and you are not a soccer fan, make sure you go. It is such a tremendous experience for your entire family. Congrats to everyone at Sac Republic!
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Sunday, May 31, 2015
My little girl is growing up
Every night is bath night for my baby. She loves her baths. She gets clean. She gets to play. She gets good mommy time. She loves her baths.
This weekend, she decided, at the ripe old age of 5, it is time to take a shower. Every night she wants a shower before bed. She looks at me tonight and says "I am a big girl now, daddy." She is so proud of herself.
It was some weird combination of Butterfly Kisses (see this from 2 year's ago: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2013/06/butterfly-kisses.html) and Cats in the Cradle.
I grew up listening to Cats in the Cradle. My child arrived just the other day.............I remember her being born. I remember holding her. I remember her sleeping next to me. My little girl. My baby. My sweet angel.
I feel like I jumped to the end of the song tonight. I've long since retired...........except I have not retired. She hasn't moved away. She has just grown up. She has gotten big. She is her own person. Smart, cute, funny, hard working. She is confident and independent.
And no matter how hard I try to keep her little, to keep her small, to keep her my baby, she grows up. She grows and grows. She gets more independent. She will always be my baby, but now she is my growing up little girl.
Not matter how hard I try, she will continue to grow up. And no matter how hard I try, she will go from my baby to my little girl to my big girl to an adult.
As Simon and Garfunkel said, preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.
This weekend, she decided, at the ripe old age of 5, it is time to take a shower. Every night she wants a shower before bed. She looks at me tonight and says "I am a big girl now, daddy." She is so proud of herself.
It was some weird combination of Butterfly Kisses (see this from 2 year's ago: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2013/06/butterfly-kisses.html) and Cats in the Cradle.
I grew up listening to Cats in the Cradle. My child arrived just the other day.............I remember her being born. I remember holding her. I remember her sleeping next to me. My little girl. My baby. My sweet angel.
I feel like I jumped to the end of the song tonight. I've long since retired...........except I have not retired. She hasn't moved away. She has just grown up. She has gotten big. She is her own person. Smart, cute, funny, hard working. She is confident and independent.
And no matter how hard I try to keep her little, to keep her small, to keep her my baby, she grows up. She grows and grows. She gets more independent. She will always be my baby, but now she is my growing up little girl.
Not matter how hard I try, she will continue to grow up. And no matter how hard I try, she will go from my baby to my little girl to my big girl to an adult.
As Simon and Garfunkel said, preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Why soccer matters to me
I am going to share a story from about 35 years ago. Pay attention. It's important.
In the 1970s, the most famous sports team in the world was the New York Cosmos. Don't argue the point. It is simply a fact. You may not like that the most famous sports team was a soccer team, but it was. They made the Yankees look like the freaking Florida Marlins. They sold out Giants Stadium for every game. They were rock stars. Pele. Beckenbauer. Messing. The best soccer team ever assembled. They played in the NASL, an up and coming soccer league that folded in the 1980s.
Part of the charm of that generation was that athletes were accessible. I remember going to shows and having baseball cards signed. I remember getting things signed at Yankee Stadium or Shea Stadium. I was up close with Dr. J in Philadelphia. The Cosmos, as part of their marketing, ran soccer camps.
One guy, Werner Roth, was the captain of the Cosmos in the late 1970s. Think Derek Jeter before Jeter was even born. Captain of the Cosmos was like President. You could do anything you wanted to do. Roth retired, but he opened soccer camps in the NY/NJ area. He was what Kennedy would have been upon leaving office if Lee Harvey Oswald didn't shoot him (alone, without help, and no conspiracy).
Roth ran camps for kids who were 8 and up. 8 is apparently the magic number. If you are 8, you can learn more than at 7 or 6. 8 year olds get it, I guess. Well, Roth heard of this kid who was 6. He could play a little. He really wanted to go to Roth's camp, called the Werner Roth Soccer Camp. The kid had been a fan since he was born. He went to all of the Cosmos games. He knew the players. All he wanted for Christmas (or Hannukah) was to go to the camp. Roth agreed to take the kid.
It was a week long camp. The players learned to dribble, pass, shoot. They were shorts that were entirely too short. They had t-shirts that were so big they looked like dresses. The 6 year old had the problem of shorts that were too big mixed with a shirt that was ridiculously big. But it didn't matter. They played soccer in the morning. They played soccer in the afternoon. They watched soccer at night.
At the end of the camp, Roth put on a clinic for the kids. He showed off some skills. When he was done, he called up the 6 year old. The shy, nervous kid went up there. The entire camp watched as Roth and this kid stood there. Roth set up two goals. He gave the kid the ball. They played. 1 v 1. This 6 year old kid and the retired captain of the most famous sports team in the world, the guy who was captain on teams with Pele, Beckenbauer, Carlos Alberto, Chinaglia. The kid shot. He missed. Roth missed wide. The kid shot. Roth slid and blocked it. The game went back and forth. Finally, the kid scores and wins 1-0. The camp cheered.
For the next few years, the kid went back to the camp. Every camp ended the same way: Roth v. the kid. The kid was undefeated, winning every match 1-0. Roth would come to the kid's house and talk. They watched Victory together. They had dinner. Roth became friends with the family. As with all things, the camp ended, the kid moved on.
Fast forward 25 years. The kid tracks down Roth. Roth and the kid are on the phone. The kid asks Roth why he let him win. Roth says "I saw the love of the game. I knew that playing would bring it out in you. I let you win so that it would develop that love."
Fast forward 10 years. The kid has a family. He is grown up. He still plays soccer. He still loves soccer. He still recalls playing with Roth all of those years ago. Now the kid has his own kids. His kids get the chance to have dinner with a soccer player. They eat. They talk. They go to the street and kick the ball around. The player teaches the kids how to curve the ball. He encourages them. He shows his love for the game. The kids glow. They spend days talking about it. They ask when they can do it again.
You see, the game, like the ball, is a circle. Soccer comes to us as youth. It teaches us skills we use in life. We play alone. We play in small groups. We play on teams, in parks, at the beach. We play in the parking lot. We play on the street. The passion develops, it builds. The passion becomes us. We move on in life, but we never forget those lessons of scoring when we were 6, of playing as a team, of sharing our snacks. We have kids and we teach these to our kids. We pass on the game. We use the game to connect to our kids. But, the game also connects our kids to the world. Our kids are taught the game. Our kids develop that passion because they see it in us.
The game, like the ball, is passed between people.The kid's dad taught him the game. Roth brought out the passion in the kid. The kid taught his kids. Those kids learn the passion from the player. The circle continues..............
In the 1970s, the most famous sports team in the world was the New York Cosmos. Don't argue the point. It is simply a fact. You may not like that the most famous sports team was a soccer team, but it was. They made the Yankees look like the freaking Florida Marlins. They sold out Giants Stadium for every game. They were rock stars. Pele. Beckenbauer. Messing. The best soccer team ever assembled. They played in the NASL, an up and coming soccer league that folded in the 1980s.
Part of the charm of that generation was that athletes were accessible. I remember going to shows and having baseball cards signed. I remember getting things signed at Yankee Stadium or Shea Stadium. I was up close with Dr. J in Philadelphia. The Cosmos, as part of their marketing, ran soccer camps.
One guy, Werner Roth, was the captain of the Cosmos in the late 1970s. Think Derek Jeter before Jeter was even born. Captain of the Cosmos was like President. You could do anything you wanted to do. Roth retired, but he opened soccer camps in the NY/NJ area. He was what Kennedy would have been upon leaving office if Lee Harvey Oswald didn't shoot him (alone, without help, and no conspiracy).
Roth ran camps for kids who were 8 and up. 8 is apparently the magic number. If you are 8, you can learn more than at 7 or 6. 8 year olds get it, I guess. Well, Roth heard of this kid who was 6. He could play a little. He really wanted to go to Roth's camp, called the Werner Roth Soccer Camp. The kid had been a fan since he was born. He went to all of the Cosmos games. He knew the players. All he wanted for Christmas (or Hannukah) was to go to the camp. Roth agreed to take the kid.
It was a week long camp. The players learned to dribble, pass, shoot. They were shorts that were entirely too short. They had t-shirts that were so big they looked like dresses. The 6 year old had the problem of shorts that were too big mixed with a shirt that was ridiculously big. But it didn't matter. They played soccer in the morning. They played soccer in the afternoon. They watched soccer at night.
At the end of the camp, Roth put on a clinic for the kids. He showed off some skills. When he was done, he called up the 6 year old. The shy, nervous kid went up there. The entire camp watched as Roth and this kid stood there. Roth set up two goals. He gave the kid the ball. They played. 1 v 1. This 6 year old kid and the retired captain of the most famous sports team in the world, the guy who was captain on teams with Pele, Beckenbauer, Carlos Alberto, Chinaglia. The kid shot. He missed. Roth missed wide. The kid shot. Roth slid and blocked it. The game went back and forth. Finally, the kid scores and wins 1-0. The camp cheered.
For the next few years, the kid went back to the camp. Every camp ended the same way: Roth v. the kid. The kid was undefeated, winning every match 1-0. Roth would come to the kid's house and talk. They watched Victory together. They had dinner. Roth became friends with the family. As with all things, the camp ended, the kid moved on.
Fast forward 25 years. The kid tracks down Roth. Roth and the kid are on the phone. The kid asks Roth why he let him win. Roth says "I saw the love of the game. I knew that playing would bring it out in you. I let you win so that it would develop that love."
Fast forward 10 years. The kid has a family. He is grown up. He still plays soccer. He still loves soccer. He still recalls playing with Roth all of those years ago. Now the kid has his own kids. His kids get the chance to have dinner with a soccer player. They eat. They talk. They go to the street and kick the ball around. The player teaches the kids how to curve the ball. He encourages them. He shows his love for the game. The kids glow. They spend days talking about it. They ask when they can do it again.
You see, the game, like the ball, is a circle. Soccer comes to us as youth. It teaches us skills we use in life. We play alone. We play in small groups. We play on teams, in parks, at the beach. We play in the parking lot. We play on the street. The passion develops, it builds. The passion becomes us. We move on in life, but we never forget those lessons of scoring when we were 6, of playing as a team, of sharing our snacks. We have kids and we teach these to our kids. We pass on the game. We use the game to connect to our kids. But, the game also connects our kids to the world. Our kids are taught the game. Our kids develop that passion because they see it in us.
The game, like the ball, is passed between people.The kid's dad taught him the game. Roth brought out the passion in the kid. The kid taught his kids. Those kids learn the passion from the player. The circle continues..............
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Science fairs are a waste of time
A modified version of my email to the school district
I am writing to you about our district science fair. Simply put, this was a waste of time.
Let me back up. I am a very involved parent in the district. I have kids at two campuses and have volunteered at both schools. I have coached in the district two different sports at two different levels. I never turn down an opportunity to help our kids, whether its volunteering at the school or helping at the district office. But, I am now 0 for 2 in getting any feedback on the district science fair and why we bother with it. Maybe it is some Ed Code requirement. Maybe someone thinks it’s a good idea. I don’t know. But, it is a waste of time and resources.
My son and I came home from this year’s science fair. He entered an invention. His invention was simple: all natural, tear free baby shampoo. It was freaking brilliant, if I do say so myself. I know a thing or two about baby shampoo and this was genius. It is not earth shattering, isn’t going to change how the world works, and is not “fancy.” My kid isn't Elon Musk. I get it. But this was good! However, it is something that hasn’t been done in the approximately 40 years since Johnson and Johnson developed “No More Tears.”
At the school level, inventions are not judged. I don’t know why, and couldn’t get an explanation from the district science resource teacher. But, my wife and I volunteered to judge the school science fair. We were given a rubric and graded 40 or so projects, between the two of us. At no time did I translate the rubric to mean “It must use these words or else.” Apparently, I was wrong. I thought kids could use some creativity in figuring out what to write and didn't need us to shove words down their throat!
At the district level, inventions are judged. However, those scores are never given out. Never. Not once. Even if you ask for them. Seriously, how the fuck do you grade something and not tell someone the grade? I don’t know why or how. I have received an explanation, but it must be wrong for a school district. The explanation is that we don’t do it because we don’t want kids to feel bad. I will address this more later. I don't want idiots to feel bad so I guess I shouldn't tell them that they are idiots.
When I asked how my son did, I was told he did not place. Great. He wasn’t upset. I wasn’t upset. But, how did he do? What could he do better next year? How could he improve? After all, his project was seen by a lot of people prior to going to the district and the consensus was that it was a) very cool, b) innovative and c) impressive for a 5th grader. In fact, a patent attorney for Johnson & Johnson was impressed by it. Seriously, when a patent attorney tells you he likes a product that is based on a product for which he knows the patent, you take that as a sign of a good product!
The judges remain anonymous. Their scoring is a bit like figure skating in the 1990s Olympics – hidden. Trying to figure out why he didn’t do well, or if he did well, was a bit like trying to figure out why Qatar is hosting the 2022 World Cup. It is a good question, but impossible to answer. Maybe we should move the science fair to December? (Like 4 people laughed at that, but it is funny. Trust me.)
So, I asked the district science resource teacher. His response was that they don’t give out scores because kids could do well at the school level, but not as well at the district level. They don’t want the kids to feel bad. Isn’t that what school teaches? For example, when I coached middle school wrestling this year, I had kids who were really good for being in 7th grade. Maybe he or she was the best wrestler at the school at 102 lbs, for example. We would go to a local tournament. Instead of being the best, my wrestler took 3rd place. We expand the pool of participants and the ability level to be the best goes up. As my wrestler made it to the county tournament, maybe he took 5th place. Again, the bigger the pool, the higher the competition, the better you have to do. It isn't freaking rocket science. You may be the smartest kid in your class, but you aren't the smartest kid in the school!
Isn’t the science fair the same thing, but for science? My son may have had the best project at Sims. As he goes to the district, it may be that his 90 is only an 85 when compared to other kids at other schools. And, at the next level, maybe isn’t that good, but rather an 80? Are we now afraid of telling kids that it gets harder the bigger the pool of competitors?
Then, the resource teacher went through the rubric with my son and his poster board. He pointed out that my son didn’t list “Materials.” (I bold it as it appears on the rubric.) My son, instead, listed “My formula.” Under his formula, he listed his actual formula. Now, “Materials” is defined as “All items used for the project are listed in specific terms.” My son’s formula lists the ingredients used and the amounts used. Further, he lists them based on the trials he did. By definition, he met this criteria. He listed all items he used in specific terms. But, the issue appears to be that he did not use the term “Materials.” You must be a lemming and use our language, human!
One might think this was just a bad example. However, it was also pointed out that he did not write “Problem or Question” which is supposed to be “[t]he invention clearly identifies and solves a real problem or need.” My son listed “My Goal” and wrote “Why not make a baby shampoo that doesn’t hurt eyes through chemicals but uses natural ingredients?” Now, I fully admit I don’t have a PhD in science. But, I am pretty sure that my son’s goal was a question that identifies a real problem and solves it.
But, there are ten categories on the rubric. So, just two bad examples? No. My son called his “Research or Background” by the name “The Principles.” Yes, he used a synonym. I am not sure, but I think that synonyms are something we want kids to learn how to use. Otherwise, they would call everything a red balloon, and not an orange-red sphere attached to a string. This seems ridiculous.
When I pointed out to the resource teacher that there was no point to a project that gave no feedback, he disagreed with me. I explained to him, gently, that in 24 years of education, I never did an assignment that didn’t have feedback. After all, how are kids supposed to learn? Even in law school, the most draconian of educational facilities, there was feedback. Heck, when we coach sports, we give feedback. “Billy, that was a good attempt at the take down, but next time you need to put your head on the outside of his leg.” Billy hear's something good but also learned what to do next time.
In this case, there is no good or bad. There is simply nothing. The resource teacher told me that he did assignments where he only received a grade. I pointed out to him that a grade was feedback. It may not be detailed, but at least it is feedback. You may not like an 80, but you know you got a B. My son doesn’t know if he got an A, B, C or if he turned in a piece of junk. Seriously, I don't know if it was A work or Z work. What the hell?
If you are going to score things on a scale of 1 to 100, you should at least give students the numerical score. Maybe, my son did a great job and got a 95 and was beat out by kids who scored 96, 97 and 98. That is very possible. But, maybe my son also scored a 62 and was beat out by kids in the 80s. That is also possible. And, either way, there is value to knowing the result.
Instead, I am left with a kid who is in 5th grade, has competed in two science fairs, and won’t enter any more because he is frustrated by a process that even he understands is unfair. Its not the result that bothers him, but that after doing weeks of work, his only feedback is “Sorry, it is not good enough and we won’t tell you why.” I asked him as we were leaving today what he learned, and he said “Nothing.” I asked again and again and that was his only response. This is a kid who has been on district honor roll, competes in sports, plays in the band and is involved with leadership programs at Sims. I asked him what he learned from the teacher and he said “Nothing.”
I tried talking to the teacher about my concerns. All he did was accuse me of yelling. I assure you I wasn’t yelling. Mr. Pierce knows my yelling and I would have been heard throughout the district office. But, in a room where parents are talking to their kids, you have a large number of people, and you are not allowed to make a point before being interrupted by a teacher, there is a need to be heard. I am sure I wasn’t yelling because no other parent stopped what they were doing to watch or listen. Yet, that was all your teacher could say.
In conclusion, the science fair is simply a waste of resources. If we are going to do this and NOT teach the kids what they did wrong (or what they did right), it has no educational value. Sure, my son learned how to make baby shampoo. But, he could have done that at home, avoided two trips across town to drop off and pick up his project, and spent his time learning other things. He could have worked on something without worrying about a rubric. The district science fair wants rote, boring potatoes powering light bulbs using only the language provided by the district. Quite frankly, it seems the antithesis of everything the district stands for, of its common core goals, and of good education. If we wanted our kids to recite back what we have taught them, we would teach them “just the facts.” I think the district needs to reconsider this waste of time and money.
I am writing to you about our district science fair. Simply put, this was a waste of time.
Let me back up. I am a very involved parent in the district. I have kids at two campuses and have volunteered at both schools. I have coached in the district two different sports at two different levels. I never turn down an opportunity to help our kids, whether its volunteering at the school or helping at the district office. But, I am now 0 for 2 in getting any feedback on the district science fair and why we bother with it. Maybe it is some Ed Code requirement. Maybe someone thinks it’s a good idea. I don’t know. But, it is a waste of time and resources.
My son and I came home from this year’s science fair. He entered an invention. His invention was simple: all natural, tear free baby shampoo. It was freaking brilliant, if I do say so myself. I know a thing or two about baby shampoo and this was genius. It is not earth shattering, isn’t going to change how the world works, and is not “fancy.” My kid isn't Elon Musk. I get it. But this was good! However, it is something that hasn’t been done in the approximately 40 years since Johnson and Johnson developed “No More Tears.”
At the school level, inventions are not judged. I don’t know why, and couldn’t get an explanation from the district science resource teacher. But, my wife and I volunteered to judge the school science fair. We were given a rubric and graded 40 or so projects, between the two of us. At no time did I translate the rubric to mean “It must use these words or else.” Apparently, I was wrong. I thought kids could use some creativity in figuring out what to write and didn't need us to shove words down their throat!
At the district level, inventions are judged. However, those scores are never given out. Never. Not once. Even if you ask for them. Seriously, how the fuck do you grade something and not tell someone the grade? I don’t know why or how. I have received an explanation, but it must be wrong for a school district. The explanation is that we don’t do it because we don’t want kids to feel bad. I will address this more later. I don't want idiots to feel bad so I guess I shouldn't tell them that they are idiots.
When I asked how my son did, I was told he did not place. Great. He wasn’t upset. I wasn’t upset. But, how did he do? What could he do better next year? How could he improve? After all, his project was seen by a lot of people prior to going to the district and the consensus was that it was a) very cool, b) innovative and c) impressive for a 5th grader. In fact, a patent attorney for Johnson & Johnson was impressed by it. Seriously, when a patent attorney tells you he likes a product that is based on a product for which he knows the patent, you take that as a sign of a good product!
The judges remain anonymous. Their scoring is a bit like figure skating in the 1990s Olympics – hidden. Trying to figure out why he didn’t do well, or if he did well, was a bit like trying to figure out why Qatar is hosting the 2022 World Cup. It is a good question, but impossible to answer. Maybe we should move the science fair to December? (Like 4 people laughed at that, but it is funny. Trust me.)
So, I asked the district science resource teacher. His response was that they don’t give out scores because kids could do well at the school level, but not as well at the district level. They don’t want the kids to feel bad. Isn’t that what school teaches? For example, when I coached middle school wrestling this year, I had kids who were really good for being in 7th grade. Maybe he or she was the best wrestler at the school at 102 lbs, for example. We would go to a local tournament. Instead of being the best, my wrestler took 3rd place. We expand the pool of participants and the ability level to be the best goes up. As my wrestler made it to the county tournament, maybe he took 5th place. Again, the bigger the pool, the higher the competition, the better you have to do. It isn't freaking rocket science. You may be the smartest kid in your class, but you aren't the smartest kid in the school!
Isn’t the science fair the same thing, but for science? My son may have had the best project at Sims. As he goes to the district, it may be that his 90 is only an 85 when compared to other kids at other schools. And, at the next level, maybe isn’t that good, but rather an 80? Are we now afraid of telling kids that it gets harder the bigger the pool of competitors?
Then, the resource teacher went through the rubric with my son and his poster board. He pointed out that my son didn’t list “Materials.” (I bold it as it appears on the rubric.) My son, instead, listed “My formula.” Under his formula, he listed his actual formula. Now, “Materials” is defined as “All items used for the project are listed in specific terms.” My son’s formula lists the ingredients used and the amounts used. Further, he lists them based on the trials he did. By definition, he met this criteria. He listed all items he used in specific terms. But, the issue appears to be that he did not use the term “Materials.” You must be a lemming and use our language, human!
One might think this was just a bad example. However, it was also pointed out that he did not write “Problem or Question” which is supposed to be “[t]he invention clearly identifies and solves a real problem or need.” My son listed “My Goal” and wrote “Why not make a baby shampoo that doesn’t hurt eyes through chemicals but uses natural ingredients?” Now, I fully admit I don’t have a PhD in science. But, I am pretty sure that my son’s goal was a question that identifies a real problem and solves it.
But, there are ten categories on the rubric. So, just two bad examples? No. My son called his “Research or Background” by the name “The Principles.” Yes, he used a synonym. I am not sure, but I think that synonyms are something we want kids to learn how to use. Otherwise, they would call everything a red balloon, and not an orange-red sphere attached to a string. This seems ridiculous.
When I pointed out to the resource teacher that there was no point to a project that gave no feedback, he disagreed with me. I explained to him, gently, that in 24 years of education, I never did an assignment that didn’t have feedback. After all, how are kids supposed to learn? Even in law school, the most draconian of educational facilities, there was feedback. Heck, when we coach sports, we give feedback. “Billy, that was a good attempt at the take down, but next time you need to put your head on the outside of his leg.” Billy hear's something good but also learned what to do next time.
In this case, there is no good or bad. There is simply nothing. The resource teacher told me that he did assignments where he only received a grade. I pointed out to him that a grade was feedback. It may not be detailed, but at least it is feedback. You may not like an 80, but you know you got a B. My son doesn’t know if he got an A, B, C or if he turned in a piece of junk. Seriously, I don't know if it was A work or Z work. What the hell?
If you are going to score things on a scale of 1 to 100, you should at least give students the numerical score. Maybe, my son did a great job and got a 95 and was beat out by kids who scored 96, 97 and 98. That is very possible. But, maybe my son also scored a 62 and was beat out by kids in the 80s. That is also possible. And, either way, there is value to knowing the result.
Instead, I am left with a kid who is in 5th grade, has competed in two science fairs, and won’t enter any more because he is frustrated by a process that even he understands is unfair. Its not the result that bothers him, but that after doing weeks of work, his only feedback is “Sorry, it is not good enough and we won’t tell you why.” I asked him as we were leaving today what he learned, and he said “Nothing.” I asked again and again and that was his only response. This is a kid who has been on district honor roll, competes in sports, plays in the band and is involved with leadership programs at Sims. I asked him what he learned from the teacher and he said “Nothing.”
I tried talking to the teacher about my concerns. All he did was accuse me of yelling. I assure you I wasn’t yelling. Mr. Pierce knows my yelling and I would have been heard throughout the district office. But, in a room where parents are talking to their kids, you have a large number of people, and you are not allowed to make a point before being interrupted by a teacher, there is a need to be heard. I am sure I wasn’t yelling because no other parent stopped what they were doing to watch or listen. Yet, that was all your teacher could say.
In conclusion, the science fair is simply a waste of resources. If we are going to do this and NOT teach the kids what they did wrong (or what they did right), it has no educational value. Sure, my son learned how to make baby shampoo. But, he could have done that at home, avoided two trips across town to drop off and pick up his project, and spent his time learning other things. He could have worked on something without worrying about a rubric. The district science fair wants rote, boring potatoes powering light bulbs using only the language provided by the district. Quite frankly, it seems the antithesis of everything the district stands for, of its common core goals, and of good education. If we wanted our kids to recite back what we have taught them, we would teach them “just the facts.” I think the district needs to reconsider this waste of time and money.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
On hate.........
I am writing this with a Campari in my hand. Just remember that!
There is a lot I don't get. Some of it I don't get because I just am not very smart. Some of it I don't get because I don't want to spend the time trying to understand. Some of it I don't get because it simply is idiotic. I don't mean to be offensive, but some stuff is just idiotic.
For example, guys walking around with their pants sagging is idiotic. That went out of style in the 90s, I thought. Or, guys walking around dropping the F bomb around elementary school kids. That has always been idiotic. I don't get why people do these things because they are so idiotic that trying to understand them is a waste of energy.
You know what else is idiotic - hatred for a group of people. Let me give you an example. "I hate tall people because they picked on me when I was younger." This is idiotic. Just because a couple of tall people made fun of me when I was younger, doesn't mean all tall people are jackasses. Now, some of them may be. A lot of them may be. But I am sure there are some tall people who are nice. When I meet them, I will let you know. (I kid. I have a lot of tall friends. Tall, of course, being defined as taller than me, which isn't that hard since I am 5'5 - on a good day!)
Now, my example is extreme and idiotic. I get it. It was designed to make a point.
You know what I hear a lot of lately - I hate blank. One of the popular ones now is "I hate cops." I don't know why people hate cops, but they seem to hate cops a lot lately. Yes, some cops have done dumb things. You know what? Lots of people do dumb things. If you are reading this and have never done a dumb thing, raise your hand? Yeah, I thought so.
Of course, there is also the old stand-bys. "I hate ..." fill in any racial group of your choice. White people hate black people, black people hate white people, Hispanics hate both, and everyone hates Asians. Right? We have all heard this. Why? Because some douche in one of these groups does something and, instead of blaming the person, we blame the group. It wasn't Billy Smith that robbed me, it was "those white people" who did it. Dumb, of course, to the educated person - maybe. But it happens every single day.
We can also blame religions. We are not fighting a war against terrorism, we are fighting a war against Islam or Muslims or ............just a crazy idea, we are fighting a war against scary people who may be religious, but probably aren't. Of course, the Nazi's hated the Jews, and now Palenstinians hate Jews because, clearly, every Jewish person is responsible for what happens in Israel. Of course, that would mean every European was responsible for apartheid in South Africa until it ended.
I get hate. There are people I hate. It may be 4 people. It may be 5 people. But, it is specific people. I don't hate groups of people. I hate certain people. I hate people who have done mean, horrible things that cannot be forgiven. I don't hate groups. If everyone could try, just a little bit harder, than the world would be a better place. Maybe not much better, but a little better.
There is a lot I don't get. Some of it I don't get because I just am not very smart. Some of it I don't get because I don't want to spend the time trying to understand. Some of it I don't get because it simply is idiotic. I don't mean to be offensive, but some stuff is just idiotic.
For example, guys walking around with their pants sagging is idiotic. That went out of style in the 90s, I thought. Or, guys walking around dropping the F bomb around elementary school kids. That has always been idiotic. I don't get why people do these things because they are so idiotic that trying to understand them is a waste of energy.
You know what else is idiotic - hatred for a group of people. Let me give you an example. "I hate tall people because they picked on me when I was younger." This is idiotic. Just because a couple of tall people made fun of me when I was younger, doesn't mean all tall people are jackasses. Now, some of them may be. A lot of them may be. But I am sure there are some tall people who are nice. When I meet them, I will let you know. (I kid. I have a lot of tall friends. Tall, of course, being defined as taller than me, which isn't that hard since I am 5'5 - on a good day!)
Now, my example is extreme and idiotic. I get it. It was designed to make a point.
You know what I hear a lot of lately - I hate blank. One of the popular ones now is "I hate cops." I don't know why people hate cops, but they seem to hate cops a lot lately. Yes, some cops have done dumb things. You know what? Lots of people do dumb things. If you are reading this and have never done a dumb thing, raise your hand? Yeah, I thought so.
Of course, there is also the old stand-bys. "I hate ..." fill in any racial group of your choice. White people hate black people, black people hate white people, Hispanics hate both, and everyone hates Asians. Right? We have all heard this. Why? Because some douche in one of these groups does something and, instead of blaming the person, we blame the group. It wasn't Billy Smith that robbed me, it was "those white people" who did it. Dumb, of course, to the educated person - maybe. But it happens every single day.
We can also blame religions. We are not fighting a war against terrorism, we are fighting a war against Islam or Muslims or ............just a crazy idea, we are fighting a war against scary people who may be religious, but probably aren't. Of course, the Nazi's hated the Jews, and now Palenstinians hate Jews because, clearly, every Jewish person is responsible for what happens in Israel. Of course, that would mean every European was responsible for apartheid in South Africa until it ended.
I get hate. There are people I hate. It may be 4 people. It may be 5 people. But, it is specific people. I don't hate groups of people. I hate certain people. I hate people who have done mean, horrible things that cannot be forgiven. I don't hate groups. If everyone could try, just a little bit harder, than the world would be a better place. Maybe not much better, but a little better.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
This is the holiday spirit
I wrote at the end of December that one small act can change the world. Go read that now: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2014/11/one-small-act-can-change-world.html It won't take long. Seriously. Go read it. It is good stuff. Maybe the best stuff I have written. So read it. Done? Good. Now you can go on with this. And if you need some inspiration while you read the rest of this post, you can get it from here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7cTPIayXb4
I spent last week at Disney World in Orlando. Or, as the folks at Disney like to call it, Walt Disney World. After all, that is the official name. It is a huge place. And sometimes, folks end up in places for the right reason at the right time. I am going to relate one of those stories.
At Disneyland, and at Walt Disney World, they have the cutest little thing called Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. Every little girl should experience it. Basically, girls from 3 to 12, roughly, can go and be made up like a princess. They get their hair done and their nails done. They get some makeup put on. They can buy a princess costume and wear it. Its adorable, and I am not saying that just because my daughter LOVES it.
Anyway, there we were last week at Walt Disney World at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. The place was packed. To my right were two little girls with their parents. They looked to be sisters, maybe 6 and 5, or something close to that. Dad and mom had big pin on that said "Make A Wish." (If you don't know what Make A Wish is, shame on you. But then go read this: http://wish.org/) The little girls were being made up and had on t-shirts and sashes. It was probably the most basic package.
You see, Make A Wish will pay for the family to get to the destination. They pick up some of the expenses. But the family has to pay for these little "add ons" as I call them.
Anyway, the girls finish up. A stranger, or at least a guy who appears to be a stranger, walks up to the cash register. He hands a credit card to the cashier. She looks at him and asks what he is doing. He says he wants to pay for these two girls. She confirms it. The mom walks over and says she wants to buy a jacket for the girl. Then a second for the other girl. While an employee runs to check to see if they have a 2nd jacket in stock, the cashier asks the man if he wants to still pay for it. He nods his head and says yes.
The cashier rings it up. The man pays. He walks away. I watch more. The cashier tells the family that someone has paid for this for them. They are surprised, to say the least. After a brief discussion, the cashier points out the man who paid. He is still there, with his family. Mom walks up, tears in her eyes, and hugs him. She walks up to his wife and hugs her. Dad comes over, teary eyed as well, and shakes the man's hand. He hugs the wife as well. The little girls say thanks, although the girl in the wheelchair can is barely audible.
The family leaves. There is some discussion among the employees. I decide to get more information.
I ask the man why he did it. His answer was simple: he doesn't know what they are going through, but whatever that family is going through is worse than anything he is going through. He tells me he hasn't had a great year, isn't making a lot of money, but he knows he can afford to be generous to a family whose lives are much more difficult than his life. He has had a rough year, he says, personally, but he cannot imagine the pain and heartache that this family is going through. So, if he can help them, why not? At some point, its just a matter of being a good person and not worrying about his own situation.
I talk to the employees. They have never seen this before. They don't know what the man was thinking or why he did it. His reasons are irrelevant to them. What matters is that he did it. He helped this family that their hearts broke for as well.
The moral of the story: the holiday spirit is alive and well in complete strangers. The holiday season may be ending, but that doesn't mean that the spirit is over. January 1 marks the start of a new year, but it doesn't have to mark the end of the generosity and caring that people showed. The spirit can live on, should live on, if everyone just tries, like this man tried to help someone, even complete strangers.
I spent last week at Disney World in Orlando. Or, as the folks at Disney like to call it, Walt Disney World. After all, that is the official name. It is a huge place. And sometimes, folks end up in places for the right reason at the right time. I am going to relate one of those stories.
At Disneyland, and at Walt Disney World, they have the cutest little thing called Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. Every little girl should experience it. Basically, girls from 3 to 12, roughly, can go and be made up like a princess. They get their hair done and their nails done. They get some makeup put on. They can buy a princess costume and wear it. Its adorable, and I am not saying that just because my daughter LOVES it.
Anyway, there we were last week at Walt Disney World at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. The place was packed. To my right were two little girls with their parents. They looked to be sisters, maybe 6 and 5, or something close to that. Dad and mom had big pin on that said "Make A Wish." (If you don't know what Make A Wish is, shame on you. But then go read this: http://wish.org/) The little girls were being made up and had on t-shirts and sashes. It was probably the most basic package.
You see, Make A Wish will pay for the family to get to the destination. They pick up some of the expenses. But the family has to pay for these little "add ons" as I call them.
Anyway, the girls finish up. A stranger, or at least a guy who appears to be a stranger, walks up to the cash register. He hands a credit card to the cashier. She looks at him and asks what he is doing. He says he wants to pay for these two girls. She confirms it. The mom walks over and says she wants to buy a jacket for the girl. Then a second for the other girl. While an employee runs to check to see if they have a 2nd jacket in stock, the cashier asks the man if he wants to still pay for it. He nods his head and says yes.
The cashier rings it up. The man pays. He walks away. I watch more. The cashier tells the family that someone has paid for this for them. They are surprised, to say the least. After a brief discussion, the cashier points out the man who paid. He is still there, with his family. Mom walks up, tears in her eyes, and hugs him. She walks up to his wife and hugs her. Dad comes over, teary eyed as well, and shakes the man's hand. He hugs the wife as well. The little girls say thanks, although the girl in the wheelchair can is barely audible.
The family leaves. There is some discussion among the employees. I decide to get more information.
I ask the man why he did it. His answer was simple: he doesn't know what they are going through, but whatever that family is going through is worse than anything he is going through. He tells me he hasn't had a great year, isn't making a lot of money, but he knows he can afford to be generous to a family whose lives are much more difficult than his life. He has had a rough year, he says, personally, but he cannot imagine the pain and heartache that this family is going through. So, if he can help them, why not? At some point, its just a matter of being a good person and not worrying about his own situation.
I talk to the employees. They have never seen this before. They don't know what the man was thinking or why he did it. His reasons are irrelevant to them. What matters is that he did it. He helped this family that their hearts broke for as well.
The moral of the story: the holiday spirit is alive and well in complete strangers. The holiday season may be ending, but that doesn't mean that the spirit is over. January 1 marks the start of a new year, but it doesn't have to mark the end of the generosity and caring that people showed. The spirit can live on, should live on, if everyone just tries, like this man tried to help someone, even complete strangers.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
One small act can change the world
This is a true story. Its a story of a simple act. But its a simple act that made a difference in one man's life. Its an act that helped one young man. Its an act that you can do.
Its a rainy morning in Sacramento, although it could be any city from New York to San Francisco, Anchorage to Miami. There is a Starbucks at the corner of two streets downtown. Inside, people are drinking their coffees, staying warm, eating food. They are enjoying the conversation, playing on their tables or phones, ignoring the people around them.
Outside, on one street, is a homeless man, dirty, sleeping, with his dog next to him. He is in his 60s, probably, looks like he has had a rough life. He is there every week, refusing any offers of help. On the other street, sits a boy, probably 20. He sits with his back against the wall of the coffee shop. He is drawing with pencil on white paper. He draws a woman, long hair, a smile. His artwork is amazing.
Inside, watching, is a man. He sits there with two kids. The kids are talking and playing. The man watches the boy draw. He sees him add texture to her hair. He watches the boy draw a shirt. The boy adds a bra strap. The picture comes to life.
The man gets up. He walks to the counter and asks for the largest coffee that they have. The barista, knowing the man, asks why. The man explains that the boy outside is drawing and has a sign that he is homeless and is asking for food. The barista hands the man the coffee at no charge.
The man walks outside. He walks up to the boy. He says "That is some great artwork." The boy responds "Thanks." The man says "Here is a cup of coffee." The boy says "Thanks" and returns to his drawing.
The man walks inside. His son, who is a young teenager, asks to give the boy a bagel. The man opens his wallet, hands his son $5, and tells him to go get a bagel and bring it to the boy. The son walks out.
A bald man in the coffee shop is also sitting, looking outside at the artist. He hears the man's conversation with his son. He grabs a brown lunch bag. He grabs his sandwich out of the bag. He walks outside, has a conversation with the young artist, and walks back in.
The father says "That kid does great work." The bald man says "Yes, he is great. He told me he is homeless. I am homeless too, but I have plenty of food. I can share my food with him," The father looks back at the bald man. The bald man says "I heard your son offer to get him food. I figured I had extra food that I could offer to."
The father's son comes back. He walks up to the young artist and offers him the bagel. The boy grabs the bagel and offers his thanks. The artist takes a bite out of it, hungry. The son comes in, happy that he could help.
The father's daughter, no older than kindergarten, asks to give the artist some food. The father makes a purchase at the coffee shop, hands it to his daughter, and tells her to bring it to the boy. The girl goes outside, with her brother, and says "Here you go" to the boy. The boy smiles back at her, says "Thanks" and puts it in his backpack for later.
Another patron watches this. He walks outside, sees the boy drawing, and offers him $20 to help offset the cost of a place to spend the night. It will be another cold, rainy night. The boy smiles, continues his drawing, and watches people walk by, most of them ignoring him, not even making eye contact.
The moral of the story: one man wanted to give a homeless guy a cup of coffee. That turned into a free cup of coffee, a bagel, a scone, a sandwich and $20 to help the artist find a place to stay. It may not be the ending of racism or ageism or any other ism, but to this young boy, it is a chance for a fresh start, a shower, some food, and some hope.
What s your small act to change the world?
Its a rainy morning in Sacramento, although it could be any city from New York to San Francisco, Anchorage to Miami. There is a Starbucks at the corner of two streets downtown. Inside, people are drinking their coffees, staying warm, eating food. They are enjoying the conversation, playing on their tables or phones, ignoring the people around them.
Outside, on one street, is a homeless man, dirty, sleeping, with his dog next to him. He is in his 60s, probably, looks like he has had a rough life. He is there every week, refusing any offers of help. On the other street, sits a boy, probably 20. He sits with his back against the wall of the coffee shop. He is drawing with pencil on white paper. He draws a woman, long hair, a smile. His artwork is amazing.
Inside, watching, is a man. He sits there with two kids. The kids are talking and playing. The man watches the boy draw. He sees him add texture to her hair. He watches the boy draw a shirt. The boy adds a bra strap. The picture comes to life.
The man gets up. He walks to the counter and asks for the largest coffee that they have. The barista, knowing the man, asks why. The man explains that the boy outside is drawing and has a sign that he is homeless and is asking for food. The barista hands the man the coffee at no charge.
The man walks outside. He walks up to the boy. He says "That is some great artwork." The boy responds "Thanks." The man says "Here is a cup of coffee." The boy says "Thanks" and returns to his drawing.
The man walks inside. His son, who is a young teenager, asks to give the boy a bagel. The man opens his wallet, hands his son $5, and tells him to go get a bagel and bring it to the boy. The son walks out.
A bald man in the coffee shop is also sitting, looking outside at the artist. He hears the man's conversation with his son. He grabs a brown lunch bag. He grabs his sandwich out of the bag. He walks outside, has a conversation with the young artist, and walks back in.
The father says "That kid does great work." The bald man says "Yes, he is great. He told me he is homeless. I am homeless too, but I have plenty of food. I can share my food with him," The father looks back at the bald man. The bald man says "I heard your son offer to get him food. I figured I had extra food that I could offer to."
The father's son comes back. He walks up to the young artist and offers him the bagel. The boy grabs the bagel and offers his thanks. The artist takes a bite out of it, hungry. The son comes in, happy that he could help.
The father's daughter, no older than kindergarten, asks to give the artist some food. The father makes a purchase at the coffee shop, hands it to his daughter, and tells her to bring it to the boy. The girl goes outside, with her brother, and says "Here you go" to the boy. The boy smiles back at her, says "Thanks" and puts it in his backpack for later.
Another patron watches this. He walks outside, sees the boy drawing, and offers him $20 to help offset the cost of a place to spend the night. It will be another cold, rainy night. The boy smiles, continues his drawing, and watches people walk by, most of them ignoring him, not even making eye contact.
The moral of the story: one man wanted to give a homeless guy a cup of coffee. That turned into a free cup of coffee, a bagel, a scone, a sandwich and $20 to help the artist find a place to stay. It may not be the ending of racism or ageism or any other ism, but to this young boy, it is a chance for a fresh start, a shower, some food, and some hope.
What s your small act to change the world?
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