Santa Barbara Wine Country and the return of summer

I'm wondering if years down the road, historians will note the span of the Covid-19 coronavirus pandemic as running from March 15, 2020 to June 15, 2021. It would make sense, as June 15 is the day the state of California removed most major health restrictions and the summer kicked off with a sense of normalcy. I witnessed this while on a wine tasting vacation in Santa Barbara.

Having airline tickets from a cancelled wedding in the spring of 2020, my wife and I were looking for somewhere we could fly (from a limited selection with a small airline), and the Santa Barbara/Santa Ynez Valley provided a pleasant and satisfying return to the idea of vacationing. We flew into LA, and spent an evening with a cousin in Old Town Pasadena, a vibrant district that has come back to life. People were out, shopping, dining, and strolling all evening ... and it felt almost normal. Cafe Santorini was the place to be, with a delicious sangria and a moussaka that was probably the best I've had since my time in Greece years ago.

Our time in wine country was centered at the Sideways Inn in Buelton, CA, and, yes, it's the same motel from the Alexander Payne film that put pinot noir on everyone's mind, and nearly caused a crisis in the Merlot industry. The Sideways, which was called The Windmill (for obvious reason), has definitely remodeled and upped its game, and we were quite happy with the accommodations. That said, if we ever go back to the area, I'd probably stay in the town of Solvang instead, for it is adorable and quaint with many attractions, and some easier access to the wineries we visited.

Our winery tour consisted of:

Foxen Vineyard & Winery 

Fess Parker Winery & Vineyard

Sunstone Winery

Buttonwood Farm Winery & Vineyard

Firestone Vineyard

The Alchemist Project and finding your Personal Legend

My column for The Villager this week is about Paulo Coelho's novella, The Alchemist, a book I read with my high school juniors each year.

The Alchemist Project

The Alchemist, a quirky little novella from Paulo Coelho, is the perfect self-help book for high school students because it comes in the form of a readable parable, and the narrative helps to disguise the preachy nature of books designed to help teens find themselves and their way in the world. For many years I have used this book with my high school juniors as a fun yet engaging diversion in the middle of what can be their most intense year of schooling.

The book tells the story of Santiago, a young shepherd in Andalusia, who sets out on a journey to see the pyramids after he has a strange dream about buried treasure. The story actually becomes more of a search for himself, as the people he meets along the way guide him into numerous life-changing decisions. He learns that his journey is actually in search of a different kind of treasure, his personal legend, which is his true purpose in life. For the book to truly resonate with kids, I’ve found it's helpful to move beyond just reading and discussing the events of Santiago’s journey. Crafting activities around the ideas of the book can more effectively engage the students in their own journey and quest to discover their own personal legend.

The lessons I build around the reading of the novel become what I call the "Alchemist Project," which is actually a multi-genre research project about themselves. In a variety of activities I ask students to honestly answer some tough questions meant to elicit some genuine moments of self reflection; for, the goal of this book and project is for students to figure out, not simply what they want to do, but who they really are. They try to determine what they value most and what they can live with and without. They will ultimately create a portfolio which may include poems and paragraphs, lists and pictures, slide shows and songs. One year a student even created a puppet show.

As part of the supplemental activities, I use an engaging TED talk, featuring Mike Rowe of the Discovery Channel's "Dirty Jobs." Rowe has some fascinating bits of advice and insight for students about the things he got wrong in life on his way to adulthood. Most importantly, he ponders the possibility that "follow your passion" might be the worst advice he ever got. I advise my students that in Rowe's view some people should follow their passion, some should follow their skills, and some should just follow the market. The goal is to figure out which one they are.

We also read and discuss related columns and stories such as a girl from Jean Twenge’s book The Ambitious Generation who was quite adept at getting into college, but not so clear on why she was going in the first place. Other materials include a David Brooks op-ed on institutional thinking called "What Life Asks of Us,” and also a Robert Fulghum essay about a girl who was "sitting on her ticket." These pieces have a way of motivating them to think critically about themselves. Perhaps the most interesting and engaging of the tasks is for students to complete an extensive analysis of their "Imaginary Lives," which gives them a chance to dream, wonder, and ultimately try to see themselves in a future.

I always conclude our unit by showing a short clip of Randy Pausch, the Carnegie Mellon professor known for his Last Lecture, a speech he gave before passing away from cancer at a young age. His YouTube speech and subsequent book are quite inspiring, and he also gave a shortened version on an episode of Oprah. Pausch’s lessons connect well with the story of The Alchemist. While Coehlo's book says "The universe conspires to help you achieve your personal legend," Randy Pausch posits "If you are living correctly, your dreams will come to you."

Ultimately, The Alchemist is a meaningful book for high school students as they seek to figure out just who they are and where they are going in life. Students sometimes dismiss the book as a little silly and contrived, and honestly it probably is. But even the most hardened student finds something useful in our Alchemist Project. Reading The Alchemist is the perfect nudge toward finding your own personal legend. So, check out Santiago’s fabled journey, and perhaps use it to guide you on your own pursuit of your personal legend.

A Rushmore Revolution

Years ago while I was doing the Colorado Writing Project and discovering my genre of op-ed commentary, I penned a short politically-inspired piece about Mount Rushmore and what it could and should mean for the country. I haven't thought about that piece for a long time, but as I assemble a manuscript of pieces from over the year, I ran across it and thought it was worth including and sharing.

In a popular film from 1991, Grand Canyon by Lawrence Kasdan, a character played by Danny Glover tells Kevin Kline’s character to “get yourself to the Grand Canyon.” In a movie about personal discovery and re-defining faith in society and the self, the Grand Canyon serves as a point of inspiration, implying that a trip to this wonder of the world might provide some degree of epiphany about a person’s direction in life. These days, as the media and political pundits describe the country as divided into Red and Blue states, I think America needs to “get itself to Mount Rushmore,” or Mountain Rushmore as my four-year-old son likes to call it. For a year now, he has been fascinated by this monument. I’m beginning to feel the same way.

Both literally and metaphorically, we need to “get ourselves to, or back to, Mount Rushmore.”

The uniqueness of this monument to the icons of American history is the universality of these men. In a seemingly more and more partisan country, these men are regularly claimed by both political legacies. At any given time these monoliths of American political rhetoric are adopted by Democrats and Republicans, liberals and conservatives. The point, I believe, is that they are both and neither. They are all, as well as none, of the above. The point is they are, quite simply, Americans.

As a high school English and social studies teacher, I regularly give book talks or book recommendations to my students at the start of the class. Early in the year I urge my students to read Rush Limbaugh’s The Way Things Ought to Be. The next day I’ll recommend Al Franken’s Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot – and Other Observations. I’ll recommend Limbaugh’s second book See I Told You So, and I’ll follow that with James Carville’s We’re Right: They’re Wrong, which is intended to refute most if not all of Limbaugh’s beliefs. The point of this is that none of these men, or their ideologies, is completely right or wrong, and it’s narrow-minded and pretentious to think so. Having been conservative and liberal, Republican and Democrat, I have found common ground with both Limbaugh and Franken. Yet, I groan when I listen to them for too long, hearing their common sense arguments veer off into rants and diatribes that appeal to their core listeners, yet do nothing toward really solving the problems.

In giving my book talks, I’m encouraging my students to open their minds. I hope they will read each side, listen to each party’s rhetoric, and decide what they believe to be right and true. I’m hoping they get a bit from each side.

When I look at each of the faces on that cliff in South Dakota, I see leadership on the grandest scale. These are men who held deep powerful convictions, yet they acted in the most pragmatic ways. While Jefferson believed in limiting the power of the federal government, he used such power without shame when purchasing the Louisiana territory. While Lincoln knew the Constitution and the law as well as anyone, he was not above manipulating both to save the union. Roosevelt was a fearless capitalist, who nonetheless, was not afraid to use the strong arm of Washington to restrict the more troublesome qualities of the economic system. None of these men were so rigidly foolish to believe that one ideology had all the answers. In fact, some might say that the brilliance of the Founding Fathers lay in their understanding that they didn’t know everything, and could not foresee many problems America would face.

These were men who governed in a way that was always best for America. Far more than is the norm for political leaders in the twenty-first century, the Rushmore presidents were deeply devoted to keeping the promise that is delivered in the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution.

I can’t help but believe that the men of Rushmore would be profoundly dismayed by the nature of political discourse in America today. It’s not that they would be opposed to differences of opinions. Think of Jefferson’s disputes with Adams, Lincoln’s presiding over the greatest division in American history, and Roosevelt splitting off to form a third party in 1912. What each of these men was doing throughout their careers was fighting against the corruption of the ideals upon which America was founded.

I can’t imagine what these men would think if they knew that $500 million was spent on the two presidential campaigns in 2004. While Jefferson wrote the book, so to speak, on free speech, I can imagine he and the other Rushmore men would point out, “That’s some damn expensive speech.” I can almost see Roosevelt’s sneer. I can feel Lincoln’s eyes staring with profound disappointment.

America needs the men of Mount Rushmore.

America needs a Rushmore Revolution.

We need a new political party that is neither Republican nor Democrat, one that is not driven by ideology. We need a new party that represents the goodness of both ideologies, one that is not simply focused on beating the other party for control. We need a group of men and women who will devote themselves to a common goal, making the best decisions for the best of all Americans. We need to make a fresh start, and then we need to ask ourselves. What would Washington do? What would Jefferson do? What would Lincoln do? What would Roosevelt do?

We need to streamline a government and a political system, so with all the pragmatism of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt, we can stop shouting at each other and criticizing each other and demeaning each other, and simply fix the problems. We need to find the commonality that is the greatness of the men of Rushmore.

Sensational: the Melodramatic Beauty Of Ellen Wood’s East Lynne

Though it has slipped into obscurity in terms of the literary canon, Ellen Wood’s Victorian novel East Lynne created quite the publishing sensation when it first appeared in 1861. However, later criticism of its melodramatic qualities probably contributed to its loss of favor in comparison to the more literary and socially critical novels of George Eliot and the Bronte sisters. That is not to say that charges of “melodrama” or “sensation” are unjustified. Various elements or characteristics are common to “melodramatic” novels, including “excessive emotion” and a reliance on stock characters who “appeal to each other and the audience by means of exaggerated expressions of right and wrong” (Vicinus). Clearly, the contrast between figures such as the noble Archibald Carlyle and the rakish Francis Levison meet that criticism. Additionally, aspects such as a contrived and complicated plot, unrealistic coincidences, and exaggerated displays of emotion are also present in the saga of young Lady Isabel. However, it is precisely the exaggerated portrayals of standard components of Victorian society in an exciting and complex manner that, in fact, make East Lynn such an engaging and successful example of Victorian literature.

Teach Kids, not Content

My latest piece for The Villager is from a blog post last year about being a responsive educator. I was really happy with the piece, and edited for the paper, it still holds true.


When my daughter was very young, one of the first full sentences I remember her saying was about my job as English teacher. Whenever it came up, she would say, “My dad works at Cherry Creek High School; he teaches children how to read and how to write.” What I loved most, other than the sing-songy rhythm with which she recited it, was her use of the transitive verb, or more specifically the direct object: My dad teaches children. She didn’t say he teaches English or grammar or books or any curriculum-related words. She focused on the children. I teach children.

My daughter’s subconscious emphasis on the human element of teaching has stuck with me. Few professions have the human connection more at their center than teaching. We are not, or at least shouldn’t be, simply presenters of information. Engagement is the key to education. Think about your favorite teachers: what made them special, and what keeps them in your mind? I doubt your memory is about a specific piece of curricula. It’s probably some quirky intangible by which they deftly and subtly engaged you in learning.

Rita Pierson, a veteran educator known for her TEDx Talk “Every Kid Needs a Champion,” laments how the one thing we rarely discuss when talking about improving schools is “the value and importance of human connection.” We physically attend school to be part of a community to connect and learn with and from others. The teacher as a facilitator of learning is at the center, and James Comer, a Yale professor of child psychiatry, opined “no significant learning can occur without a significant relationship.” And that doesn’t mean friendship. Too many times kids want to only be friends and have fun in class, but that might not always lead to learning and meaningful education. Education writer Carol Jago distinguishes between an engaging class and a fun one; in one learning is happening, in the other it might not.

Responsive educators make kids the focus of their instruction and teach to the specific children in front of them, from year to year and day to day. In his book School of Life, philosopher Alain de Botton laments the imbalance in the way contemporary education worries a great deal about what children are taught and very little about how they are taught. A true teacher will focus on the unique human beings in the classroom at the moment. In my first years teaching high school, I recall a counselor and dean showing up after my class to ask about a student. They wondered why he kept coming to my late afternoon class, even though he was nearly failing, did very little, and skipped everything else. “I don’t know,” I told them after explaining it wasn’t because his friends were there or because class was easy. “I guess he just likes it here.” I’m not sure what he actually learned in my class, but it was something. And I’m reminded of the wisdom of Forest Witcraft who said, “A hundred years from now, it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove, but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a [child].”

When we speak about preparing kids for the next levels -- college, career, life -- what are we really hoping to accomplish? Socrates’ goal was summed up in two words: know yourself. Creating and sustaining an educated citizenry was Thomas Jefferson’s vision. These days too many people see education as simply utilitarian job training. However, rather than thinking about content and skills, perhaps it’s best to remember we are teachers of people. Alain de Botton also noted “much anxiety surrounds the question of how the next generation will be at math, very little around their abilities at marriage or kindness.” Which will be most impactful in the life of the child? That distinction is at the heart of social-emotional learning, and it’s the crux of true education.

Ultimately, the destination is the same: to become emotionally and intellectually mature adults who can take care of and provide for ourselves while contributing to society in some meaningful way. To do that effectively, we must choose kids over content.

Geometry Explains the Shape of Everything

While my college-age son is a true math genius (despite being named after two authors and being born on Shakespeare's birthday), math stopped making much sense to me in my high school algebra class. I never got much beyond algebra II and trig. However, one math class spoke to me; in fact, it practically sang to me. And that was geometry. 

In terms of scope and sequence in K12 education, geometry is a left turn detour that throws a lot people for a loop, ... or perhaps throws them for a parallelogram. It's not really linear, in a manner of speaking, for the entire math progression. And the mathletes I know tend to sneer at it, especially when it shows up in competition. However, for others, geometry is the only math class that ever mattered. And now a true mathematician, Jordan Ellenberg of the University of Wisconsin, has validated that feeling. Geometry matters a great deal, and in some ways is the most relevant math we have. Ellenberg recently published a book on geometry for the masses, and he seeks to explain and justify "The Hidden Geometry of Information, Biology, Strategy, Democracy, and Everything Else." 

In geometry class, a good friend of mine and I literally never did the homework. We just felt like we didn't need to because we just seemed to get it. In class, our teacher would often divide the class up into teams, and we would race to complete the proofs at the board as our classmates directed us. Sam and I always volunteered. And at the end of the semester, when we had aced every test but done none of the daily work, Mrs. Schneider told us, "You both have 'A's' on every assessment, but zeroes for every daily assignment. That should average to about a 'C.' But considering you did practically every problem on the board with your teams, I think we'll just count that work as your own." That was about the coolest thing a teacher ever did for me.

One key story that Ellenberg shares early in the book is how Abraham Lincoln credited his rhetorical brilliance to the writings of Euclid, the historical figure often referred to as the father of geometry. As an English teacher and writing instructor that makes perfect sense to me. The Lincoln anecdotes are just the beginning of how Ellenberg explains, in layman's terms, how geometry explains the world.

A Shot Clock is the Wrong Choice for High School Hoops

After last week's news that in the 2022-23 academic year, state high school athletic associations will be permitted to add a shot clock, I fired off a quick blog post opposing the decision for a variety of reasons. After an engaging and fun Facebook exchange with some friends, I expanded my post into my column this week for The Villager. Here are my extended thoughts:

I don’t think I like the idea of a shot clock in high school basketball.

That potential change to the game was announced last week by the National Federation of State High School Associations which voted to permit state associations to adopt a shot clock for the 2022-23 school year. This progressive approach to basketball will not be good for the high school game, and it's just one more example that traditions matter, often as a hedge against frivolous, unnecessary change. Games should not just be about speeding up and pursuing more shots for pure entertainment. There’s so much more to the game, especially at younger levels, and focusing on a quickened pace to force more shots to produce more scoring simply misses the nuanced beauty of the sport.

In addition to compromising the fundamentals of the game, the shot clock in the teenage game will also harm the competitive balance which is so important in high school athletics. While the shot clock has certainly enhanced the college and pro games, it will hurt the high school leagues and exacerbate imbalance among schools. Thoughtful pacing, ball control, and even the often dreaded "slow down game" are competitive strategies many schools use to their advantage. In the spirit of competitiveness, deliberate pacing is a necessary tactic that smaller schools sometimes need. And this measured approach is no less significant in terms of athletics than the advantage some schools have simply by nature of larger pools of kids.

States will each have to make their own decision on the need and benefit of a shot clock, and it's to be expected that coaches and athletic directors will weigh in. In some states like Kentucky, the discussion is already in full force, and there are strong opinions on both sides. The cost of installing and managing the clocks is the greatest concern for most schools, as the shot clock would be just another unfunded mandate that most districts can’t afford. And, while some coaches and fans believe the change will speed up the game and create greater excitement with higher scores, many others are vocally opposed, arguing it’s going to lead to a sloppier game as less experienced players will increasingly force up rushed shots to beat the clock. Additionally, as one coach noted, “I just think that a shot clock would negate some of the things that coaches do to close the talent gap.”

I’ve never liked changes that appear to fix what isn’t broken, and some people believe the shot clock decision is an answer in search of a problem. The high school game is fine as it is, and there isn’t a rash of slow games that will suddenly be improved with the addition of a hurry up offense. I love high school hoops, even when it’s a slow-down defensive battle. And, in those situations, a better option would be for more athletically-talented teams to figure out a way to break the slow down, like breaking the press. Playing smarter and more creatively could avoid needing a shot clock. So, teams should figure out a way to pressure the stall, force turnovers, tie up the ball, and steal a possession. These are all options, and coaches just aren’t thinking creatively enough to solve the problem.

Every sports fan loves the classic basketball movie “Hoosiers,” and most would point to it as an example of the thrill that comes from fast-paced games. However, those who know the history of the game also know that there’d actually be no movie and no story if not for the slow down tactics of the underdog team. In the real game, the athletically outmatched Milan High School team actually stalled and held the ball for more than four minutes in the fourth quarter, which allowed them to run the thrilling buzzer beater shot in the last eighteen seconds to win the state championship. This great sports movie only exists because there was no shot clock.

Ultimately, the shift to a shot clock will only succeed in giving an advantage to teams who already have one, and it’s not a change the game needs. Obviously we can expect that large schools and dominant programs which have a pipeline of top athletes to succeed at the fast-paced level will desire the clock. Smaller schools who use strategy to counter and control superior size and athleticism will certainly oppose the change. The question will be whose benefit is valued and supported by the state associations. Let's hope prudence and a thoughtful approach to what's best for the game are the key influences on the decision.

The Way Things Ought to have Been

On the passing of Rush Limbaugh, I thought back to my political coming-of-age in the Reagan era, and of course the first time I heard of this larger-than-life radio personality who was apparently becoming the voice of conservatism. At the time, I would have referred to myself as a conservative and a Republican, two terms which used to be somewhat synonymous but can barely recognize each other anymore. The basics of the conservatism that I knew had to do with the writings of George Will and a the ideas of Russell Kirk, though at that time I didn't yet know Kirk's writings or even his name. The basic idea that old things are generally preferable to new ones and that institutions matter as the foundation of civilized society were fairly basic starting points. 

And then along came Rush's first book The Way Things Ought to Be. The book and its soon to be iconic author were presented to me by a somewhat older friend who phrased the man and his book this way: "You know, he just makes sense." That sentiment, which was framed with all sincerity, was meant to imply that Limbaugh's book and his show and his criticisms and suggestions for society were the back-to-basics honest and objective answers to an increasingly complicated and politicized world. This guy simply cut through the nonsense and clarified complex societal challenges. He "just makes sense," and if our government and schools and businesses and towns and families listened to Rush, everything would be fine ... would be as it "ought to be." 

Oh, the naivety of youth and the American consumer.

It's a shame that Rush never became the conservative voice America actually needs. He had the microphone and the platform and the voice. Sadly, he lacked the insight, the prudence, the wisdom, and the conscience of a conservative. Rather than be a leader who could promote and sell the character of conservatism and its benefit to society, he chose instead to simply be an info-tainer. And, I guess that's not surprising, for he was really only ever a salesman and huckster who found a product he could peddle on his way to ostentatious wealth. Like Hannity, O'Reilly, Beck, and Carlson after him, it was only ever a way to make a buck.

Conservatism and the legacies of Kirk and Goldwater and Reagan deserved so much better. With the conscience of a conservative, like Jack Kemp for example, Rush Limbaugh could have helped engineer a truly pragmatic and productive conservative movement that might have helped build a stronger, more egalitarian, and more unified country that was committed to growth and opportunity for all. Instead, the profitable divisiveness of the mid-nineties, orchestrated out of the election and re-election of Bill Clinton, played into and off of mistrust and doubt rather than hope and faith in America. 

Should Our Kids Strive for Perfection?

The open-argument free response question on this year's in-person paper/pencil exam for AP English Lang & Comp asked students to consider the value of striving for perfection. As writer and teacher Carol Jago noted, it is quite an apt question for this generation of driven perfectionist kids. And I've been pondering how I might approach such an essay, for it seems fairly interesting on the surface level, but could also be challenging to really go deep on the topic.

I think I might begin by addressing the connotation of the word "striving." Certainly, we might concede that no one really every strives for mediocrity, though even that might be up for debate. All of us have to consider what we're willing to accept, as well as how much effort and at what cost we are willing to pursue levels of achievement. Years ago when I was in grad school, I recall a 300 or 400 level class that several of my cohort classmates took together along with a larger number of undergrads. We were shocked and a little miffed to hear the underclassmen say things like, "I only need a 'C' in the class," or "I'm only taking it pass/fail because I just need credit." That approach certainly compromised and diminished any sort of "striving" they were going to engage in.

And, of course, the literal definition and varied connotations or interpretations of "perfection" are also important to consider in answering College Board's question. We've all heard the advice to "never let the perfect be the enemy of the good," and no matter the task, we must accept some degree of imperfection. Right? Obviously, I don't want anything less than perfect from a doctor who is operating on me, though I must also concede the problem of just how nuanced that is. For students and their expectations of achievement, we should acknowledge that a top score of an 'A' in class or a '5' on the AP exam doesn't necessarily mean 100% perfection in answering questions. Even so-called "perfect scores" on the ACT or SAT actually allow for some missed questions.

In sports, we know that 100% is rarely if ever the bar for perfection. For example, life coaches and counselors are fond of reminding people that if you can hit the ball three times out of every ten in the major leagues, you are likely going to be an All Star. In baseball they even use the term to describe a masterful dominant pitching performance in that a "perfect game" is one where no hits or walks are allowed by a single pitcher. But that doesn't mean the opposing team didn't hit the ball at all. And is it more perfect for the pitcher to strike every batter out or to throw few pitches but allow contact which is smoothly fielded by his teammates for outs? It's an unanswerable question. Hall of Fame basketball stars don't make every shot or win every game. Perfection in that regard is always elusive.

NBA's Greatest

 GOAT - Top 10

1. MJ

2. Kobe

3. --

Magic/Bird

Wilt/Kareem

Dr. J/Bill Russell/Tim Duncan

Lebron/Steph Curry

Multiple Paths to Learning Math

There has been much in the education news world lately about the decisions in Virginia regarding math sequencing and in California regarding state math standards. In the name of equity, the education leaders in both states seem intent on slowing and impeding math acceleration for advanced students and forcing all students to study math at the same pace. These decision not only fail to support equity and access, but are also flawed in their understanding of pedagogy and learning. Here are my thoughts from my column in The Villager:

All kids do not learn math at the same age, pace, and proficiency. In fact, educators know that literacy, math, and critical thinking skills are not age-specific. That is a key problem and inefficiency of the K12 one-size-fits-all education system. However, many schools adjust for learning needs through flexible acceleration and multiple pathways. As a result, not every kid is forced into or stuck back in Algebra I during their ninth grade year, even though it’s long been the standard course for high school freshmen. As an educator who has worked with many high achieving students, I've known kids in ninth grade to be ready for and successful in geometry, algebra II/trig, and even calculus. Clearly, one rigid course of study in math is not responsive to the authentic learning needs of students.

Thus, a decision by Virginia’s Department of Education that could "eliminate all math acceleration before eleventh grade" is a truly baffling and disappointing move. Providing one math class sequence with no chance of advancement before junior year will be insufficient to support learning, no matter how comprehensive the curriculum may be. It’s a step backward in education, even as it tries to rethink how schools can most effectively teach math to all kids. In schools around the world, math is often taught more holistically with concepts of numeracy, computation, algebra, geometry, and calculus embedded in lessons throughout all grades. And American schools may benefit from that curriculum and style of instruction. But Virginia’s proposal will not fix what isn’t actually broken.

Equally problematic is Virginia’s reasoning that they are holding kids back and providing one option all in the name of equity. For people who have spent a long time in education, for those who understand giftedness and advanced learning, and for those who work tirelessly to promote equitable opportunities for all students, the idea of treating every kid the same is outdated. There’s a clear distinction between equity and equality, and Virginia’s leaders greatly misunderstand it to the detriment of their kids. Equality is providing one path and treating everyone the same; equity is providing equal access to opportunity while providing multiple pathways to success and achievement.

The most obvious concern for parents and teachers is that students would either fall behind in a class they’re not ready for or be bored in a class on material they’ve already mastered. According to Charles Pyle, a Virginia education department spokesman, schools would address diverse learning needs and abilities by differentiating instruction, and doing so would expand “access to advanced mathematical learning” for gifted students. Of course, differentiation is probably the most difficult challenge for teachers, especially in classes of thirty or more students. It’s rarely done well, and the difference between factoring polynomials in algebra and taking derivatives in calculus is far too vast for one classroom.

Sadly, Virginia’s problematic plans are not an isolated case. California is following suit with similar changes to state standards that could ultimately limit advancement and disrupt learning. Wisconsin education professor Scott J. Peters has questioned the changes, pointing out how the move will hurt many minority students who are already advanced and in classes above their age and grade level. Currently in California, tens of thousands of kids of color are in accelerated classes, and the new guidelines would literally slow them down and stifle their learning. A move toward equity should result in kids having access to more opportunities. But in places like Virginia and California, the plan is to force every kid to be the same.

American journalist and curmudgeon H.L. Mencken once wrote, “The aim of public education is not to spread enlightenment at all; it is simply to reduce as many individuals as possible to the same safe level, to breed and train a standardized citizenry.” The desire of some people to make all kids learn the same thing at the same time at the same pace is a chilling manifestation of Mencken’s warning. The job of any student is simply to reach his or her individual potential. Schools should adapt and respond to each child’s needs, as opposed to inflicting rigid ideas of what they will receive at specific and arbitrary age or grade levels.

Virginia and California are making a huge mistake in their misguided attempt to help kids. Let’s hope Colorado schools don’t make the same miscalculation.

Country, Folk, and Jimmy Buffett

I've been thinking a lot about music genres lately, and it's mostly influenced by listening to Alex Rainbird Radio or Indie Folk Central while reading and writing about punk rock music for a paper I'm working on with the claim of Henry David Thoreau as America's original punk. As I ponder, I've been generating a fair amount of discussion on social media by posing questions such as why someone decided that Nirvana would be called grunge rather than punk. Another question was just how we define the genre of Jimmy Buffett's music, which started in Nashville and definitely has country roots. And finally, what's the difference between country and folk music, because while I know it when I hear it, I can't actually define the specifics.

As you can imagine, these sort of queries can generate quite animated debate and commentary.

Some descriptions of Jimmy Buffett include Caribbean country, ambient country lullabies, country rock pop. Rather surprisingly, a few people actually posited that JB could be filed under "bad music," and I had to admit that was the first I'd ever heard of not liking Buffett. While there is certainly a party time, novelty act tone to some of his songs such as "Cheeseburger in Paradise," others are richly crafted narratives and ballads that are not only interesting musically but also perfectly capture the storytelling quality so integral to the country music tradition. Some of those would be "A Pirate Looks at Forty," "He Went to Paris," and "Son of a Sailor."

And that, of course, leads me back to the country and folk question:  what's the difference?