Talk to your Enemy

So, after last week's column about the importance of dialing down the divisive rhetoric and the portraying of neighbors and community members as enemies over basic political issues, I received an interesting email response. A reader thanked me for the column and explained how she really liked it and agreed with me .... except for the part where I said neither party hates America and no one is trying to destroy the Constitution. Then she proceed to explain how the radical Marxist extremists are bent on the destruction of American culture and society.

Oh, well. (heavy sigh).

As I read the email, just shaking my head, I thought of my current study of John Knowles' classic American bildungsroman A Separate Peace with my ninth graders. Specifically, I am thinking about the closing of the novel and its poignant and important bit of wisdom:

"All of them, all except Phineas, constructed at infinite cost to themselves these Maginot Lines against this enemy they thought they saw across the frontier, this enemy who never attacked that way -- if he ever attacked at all; if indeed he was the enemy."

The novel is a wonderful and insightful read if you haven't read it before, or if it has been a while. And along this same line of thought, I must offer another reading suggestion, I highly recommend Jonathon Haidt's The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion.

https://www.tatteredcover.com/book/9780307455772

We Need to Talk

For my column this week in The Villager, I'm thinking about the problematic nature of contemporary society's inability to have calm, rational discussion about political and cultural issues.

One serious problem in contemporary America is simply a rhetorical one. Basically, the general discourse has become pretty crass and rather harsh. Many people can’t even talk to each other anymore, and when they do, their words are not what we’d call polite conversation. The language Americans use to speak about people with whom they disagree has become negative to the point of absurdity. Perhaps it’s time we put away the superlatives and simply talk in tempered tones.

As a writer and teacher, I come by my language skills honestly, having learned the art of communication from my parents. My mom was a newspaper writer and editor, and my dad worked in personnel. And while my mom was an astute observer and master of the written word, my dad was simply a great talker. Working for many years in labor relations, he valued the art of communication, and he knew that if people were honest and earnest, anything could be talked out. “As long as we’re talking …” he would say. That was his credo: “Everything will be all right as long as we’re talking.”

That spirit of genuine conversation guided my dad in his job and personal relationships. He spent many years walking the neighborhood each morning with a close friend and neighbor who was also his polar opposite on many political issues. As they walked and talked, the conservative Catholic Republican and the progressive Protestant Democrat never resolved much or changed the other’s mind, but they were always friends at the end of the day. We once theorized that if our senators and representatives walked and talked each morning, the country might be in better shape. I actually wrote a column for Merion West Magazine, suggesting “Congress Should Live Together.” I envisioned a 535-family townhouse complex in DC where politicians and their families would all be neighbors. They might not always agree, but it’s harder to hate each other when your kids play together.

In the 1980s, Ronald Reagan and Democratic House Speaker Tip O’Neill were fierce political rivals. Their public comments about each other weren’t often kind. In fact, Reagan once called Tip after a particularly harsh comment in the newspapers, and Tip told him, “Well, buddy, that’s just politics. After 6:00, we’re friends.” The two political giants battled for many years, and probably didn’t hang out much. But they ultimately developed a healthy respect for each other, and at the end of their careers, Reagan said, “Tip, if I had a ticket to Heaven, and you didn’t have one, I’d give mine away and go to Hell with you.” Years later Joe Scarborough would opine that you could impeach Bill Clinton one day, and the next Bill would come up and ask you to go play a round of golf. Both Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton led successful presidencies because they were, in their hearts, friendly, gregarious men.

Politics doesn’t have to be a combat sport, and political opponents don’t have to disparage each other. Disagreement about political issues doesn’t mean one side is stupid. It doesn’t mean one side is made of fascists while the other is full of communists. Neither political party hates America, and no one is destroying the Constitution. People just have different views, and they should be able to talk about them with tact and maturity. At one time in American history, the Senate was envisioned as the great deliberative body. Senate procedures and the filibuster were actually intended to slow the discussion and extend the debate. Like my dad said, “As long as we’re talking …”

Of the many great documents in American political history, Abraham Lincoln’s Inaugural Addresses at the beginning and end of the Civil War are among our most treasured. As the nation prepared to go to battle, Lincoln actually finished his first address by reminding Americans “We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.” Years later, as the conflict came to a close and the country faced a difficult reunification, he urged America to go forward “With malice toward none, with charity for all.” If Americans coming out of the Civil War could cease portraying each other as the enemy, then certainly two political parties talking about tax rates can do the same.

As the campaign season gears up, and voters prepare for midterm elections, let us hope cooler heads prevail, and someday soon we can speak to and about each other civilly. As Honest Abe wished for us, we should always seek to be guided “by the better angels of our nature."

Generations

As April arrives, and springtime springs, I find myself thinking of home and my parents and their garden and times long past. Since April is also National Poetry Month, I am reminded of this poetic piece I crafted many years ago.


Generations

In the early morning, on my hazy quest for a cup of coffee, I am stopped in my tracks by an image of absolute clarity. Through the kitchen window of my parents’ home, I glimpse the two most important men in my life. One is thirty-five years my senior, the other thirty-two years my junior. It’s summer, and I’ve come home to visit.

Remembering these moments amidst the hassles of daily living is important.

The hour is early, before the intense humidity of a St. Louis summer can make being outside unbearable, and the sunlight is just beginning to peer over the neighbor’s house. In an awkward angle from my position in the hallway, peering sideways through the glass and around the obtrusive windowpanes, past the hummingbird feeder, and over the patio fence, I see them. Sitting on a bench under a tree in the botanical garden that is my parents’ backyard are my father and my son.

Life is good.

They had disappeared out the back door a while ago – my dad to turn on the fountain or take out the trash and my son to look for bugs, frogs, turtles, or any other creature that might be lurking among the hosta lilies, dwarf conifers, and rose bushes.

Life is good because my family is safe.

My wife and I and our two children live in Colorado, a fourteen-hour drive from my childhood home. In the past four years, I’ve been home just once. Even though I’m a teacher, it always seems like summer vacation is too short, as I spend much of it taking classes. When my parents, who are now in their seventies, come out to visit, they always stay in a hotel, and their two or three day visits always seem to be over just as they’ve begun. But there on the bench, my son still in his pajamas, it seems like there’s all the time in the world.

Life is good because my family is safe, and they’re happy.

I watch them for a few moments, but it seems like an hour. At various points, Austen talks animatedly, waving his arms and pointing, or sits quietly, contemplating the scene, leaning into his grandpa, and occasionally tugging on his shirt. My father sits calmly, shoulders slumping slightly, listening to my son and seeing the garden through his eyes. My dad said later that he often forgets to take time to sit and enjoy the garden. Between taking care of the garden and working a new job as a financial advisor, he rarely takes time to smell the proverbial roses. When my son leans over and rests his head against his grandpa’s arm, I know the meaning of life.

Life is good because my family is safe, and they’re happy, and they’re sheltered, and they’re here.

That’s the key, isn’t it? Being present.

Bid Farewell to Class Rank & Valedictorians

When a simple decision by a single school district in Colorado goes viral, and the talking heads suddenly become experts on education and the college admissions process, well, you know something is amiss. After Cherry Creek Schools decided to formalize a policy of not publicly ranking students by GPA and not selecting a valedictorian based on GPA, you'd have thought they decided to eliminate grades and give everyone a cookie. A local attorney and aspiring politician criticized the district in a crass, poorly written, and inaccurate op-ed column for the Denver Post. I've responded with a counterargument that explains the truth of the matter.

Elon Musk was not valedictorian in high school. Neither was Bill Gates whose 2.2 GPA at one point alarmed his parents. Ronald Reagan graduated with a C-average. None of these esteemed men were mediocre in intelligence or achievements, regardless of their high school grades.

Despite what Denver Post opinion columnist George Brauchler believes, high school rank is an irrelevant measure of success, especially when the individual distinction is often mere thousandths of a percentage point. Critics of Cherry Creek School District’s decision to retire valedictorian titles and ranking students by GPA couldn’t be more wrong, and the district should be lauded, not maligned.

Rather than moving toward mediocrity, the district’s action acknowledges and honors widespread high achievement ...

Read the rest here:

Art of the State 2022

I did another piece of art review and commentary for the Denver Post YourHub. The Art of the State is at the Arvada Center through Sunday, March 27. 

The tri-annual Art of the State exhibit returned to Colorado this year, setting up at the Arvada Arts Center and featuring 149 individual art pieces from 142 artists across the state. Art of the State 2022 is the fourth rendition of the show, filling three galleries and 10,000 square feet of the Arvada Center Galleries, which continues to spotlight and promote some of the best local talent on the art scene. As always, the show is an eclectic and diverse offering of artwork across multiple media including oil and acrylic painting, prints, drawings, woodblock, found objects, and more. Led by the vision of Collin Parson, the Arvada Center’s Director of Galleries, the show is beautifully curated with fellow jurors, Louise Martorano, Executive Director of RedLine Contemporary Art, and Ellamaria Ray, Professor of Africana Studies at Metropolitan State University of Denver. The three meticulously evaluated more than two-thousand submissions on the way to selecting this year’s featured artists.

As Colorado and the world emerged from two years of pandemic living, the art produced in the state was bound to evoke themes of the fractured state of the world and a desire to find beauty amidst the chaos. An obvious theme throughout this year’s show is one of disruption, with countless pieces and perspectives slightly askew, as if we’ve spent the past two years viewing the world from a distance, catching glimpses here and there of life but never fully connecting with anything or anyone. In pieces like Neil Corman’s “Balconies” and Chuck McCoy’s “Form One Configured,” viewers only get bits and pieces, odd angles and shifting perspectives, that offer hints of life and the world. A similar effect is found in Deborah Jang’s “We’re Not in Kansas Anymore,” which won the MeowWolf Award. The haphazard sculpture of wooden chairs, poles, and metal creates an intriguing spire in the main gallery.

.....  

Read the rest here.

George Will on Baseball

I look to, trust, and respect George Will on many things, but perhaps none more than baseball. As people debate the new CBA, the shift, the pitch clock, the DH, & everything else, GW clarifies the issue at hand with reasoned rational commentary.

Now MLB must tweak its rules or find a slew of Rod Carews. He wielded a bat with the delicacy of an orchestral conductor’s baton. The first time Tony La Russa managed against Carew, he moved his shortstop up the middle. So, Carew singled through the spot that La Russa’s shortstop had vacated. In Carew’s next at-bat, La Russa, chastened, left the shortstop where he normally played. So, Carew — don’t tug on Superman’s cape — singled through the spot where La Russa had placed the shortstop in Carew’s first at-bat . Carew’s third at-bat: a bunt so perfect he reached base without a throw.

Today’s analytics could not have helped opponents cope with Carew. He, however, was a genius. Better to change baseball’s rules than to count on reviving the game with an abundance of genius, which is always scarce.

A Trip down Fascination Street

I'm a bit of an art geek and visiting galleries is one of my favorite activities when I have the time. Denver is an excellent place to indulge that interest, as its vast and vibrant art scene has been cooking for years. Lately I've been doing a bit more writing about art, and after a particularly engaging gallery visit, I've felt compelled to write it up and share the experience. My most recent piece, "Fascination Street Continues to Elevate Cherry Creek North's Art Scene," is the second I've had published by 303 Magazine in Denver. 

A stroll through Cherry Creek North provides boundless opportunities to pop in out of specialty shops, clothing stores, and restaurants. Numerous galleries also await fans of the fine arts, making the posh streets of the southeast Denver neighborhood one of Colorado's best art scenes. Thousands of residents visit the well-known Cherry Creek Art Festival, but regular visitors can experience a festival-like offering every day of the year. Browsing Cherry Creek can be casual window shopping, but wandering into Fascination Street Fine Art will be no short trip. The esteemed gallery in the heart of Cherry Creek is truly a fascinating experience.

While the gallery’s entrance on Third Street is a welcoming storefront, the official address of Fascination Street is 315 Detroit Street, just around the corner. Alice Crandall, the Senior Gallery Director, explains the gallery recently went through an expansion uniting three stores in “a year-long process to design and develop the spaces, including the addition of the dedicated frame shop.” The dual entrances and multiple rooms are just the first hint of the gallery’s vast store of paintings, giclees, sculptures, drawings, and more.

... Read the rest here.

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

Cherry Creek High School put on a wonderful production of "Mamma Mia!" this weekend. My review is this week's column for The Villager.

Musical theater is back at Cherry Creek High School, and their production of “Mamma Mia” played to packed houses last weekend. Based on songs from Swedish pop band ABBA, this festive musical tells the story of 20-year-old Sophie on a Greek island about to marry her fiance Sky. Sophie doesn’t know her father, but wants him to walk her down the aisle, so unbeknownst to her mother Donna, Sophie invites Donna’s three former boyfriends, and drama ensues.

The lead roles were perfectly cast with Bella Mitchell, bringing an adorable charm and powerful, melodic voice to the role of Sophie. Mitchell, who’s been accepted for musical theater to NYU’s elite Tisch School, put on an impressive performance, masterfully connecting soulful solo scenes to energetic ensemble pieces. “Mamma Mia” has a girls night vibe with Sophie, Donna, and Donna’s lifelong friends Tanya and Rosie, known as the Dynamos, laughing, longing, and loving their way through a tumultuous weekend.

Donna was beautifully played by Miranda Joyce, and her two backup Dynamos literally brightened the stage every time they were on it. Lexi Casey as the sassy, fun-loving Rosie and Eliana Yokomichi as the sardonic thrice-divorced Tanya absolutely owned their roles with vaudevillian-like humor. Yokomichi’s portrayal of Tanya’s clumsy elegance charmed audiences, and her boisterous flirtation with barman Pepper, played by Alex Mitchell, was hilarious. Yokomichi danced across the stage with class and sass in four-inch stiletto heels. “I’d have broken my ankle just walking in those,” one woman in the audience quipped.

The stage was literally filled all night with a huge ensemble of “Dancing Queens,” and Emily Fisher’s choreography led by dance captain Chloe Mazenko was truly a spectacle to behold. During “Voulez-vous” nearly fifty dancers smoothly glided past each other in mesmerizing layered movements, and the true beauty of the scenes was the seemingly natural and effortless interplay of the singers and dancers. Scenes with villagers just spontaneously breaking into song and dance is the magic of well-done musical theater.

The show was an emotional roller coaster from the energetic, joyous “Dancing Queen” to the dramatically artful “Under Attack.” In a poignant mother-daughter scene, Sophie and Donna reflect on the past, singing “Slipping Through My Fingers,” while dancers Catherine Healy and Becca Dwyer performed a poetic ballet, visually mirroring the characters' emotions. It was a hauntingly beautiful scene of love and nostalgia. Moments later Miranda Joyce nearly brought down the house with her rendition of “Winner Takes It All.” Her soaring voicing, filled with soulful angst was a stunning moment, as her suitor Sam, played so smoothly by Jack Diamante, stands stoically across the stage, feeling her pain and longing for connection. “It literally gave me chills,” said Terri Margolies, who saw the show twice.

Donna’s other suitors wonderfully complimented the drama, with senior Caleb Meyerhoff bringing a cool vibe to former musician “Headbanger Harry,” and Hayden Noe filling the stage with his warm “aw shucks” schtick of the kind-hearted Bill. The scene where Noe’s Bill is audaciously, seductively wooed by Casey’s Rosie singing “Take a Chance on Me” was a sassy, saucy, laugh riot. It’s easy to forget these thespians are just high school kids with their mature stage presence.

The set was masterfully designed with the Fine Arts Theater transformed into a small Greek village and taverna, complete with white stucco, blue shutters, and shifting backdrops reflecting the Grecian sky. Associate set designer Dylan List and his crew created a warm, hip Mediterranean vibe, and the audience half-expected the cast to emerge soaking wet from the Aegean. They came close when the groomsmen suited up in scuba gear for a hysterical chorus in “Lay All Your Love on Me.”

Creek theater is an all-student led production, including the exquisitely detailed costumes. It’s no surprise costume designer Sarah Manos is also headed to NYU’s esteemed Tisch School. The directors pulled out all the stops at the end of the show when the entire cast hit the stage for an extended ten-minute dance extravaganza in eye-popping 70s disco costumes for the party anthem “Waterloo.” As confetti fell from the sky, some audience members waving glow sticks and wearing feather boas danced in the aisles. “I’m literally speechless,” said Creek administrator Marcus McDavid, who attended with his two Creek kids. “That was just so fun.”

Burkhart and musical director Sarah Harrison both said of the show, “We just wanted to have fun. We needed to have fun.” Mission accomplished. The thespians of Cherry Creek gave their community a night to remember. With Burkhart in just his third year at Creek, and the school’s seemingly endless line of talented kids, it appears musical theater is in great shape for many years to come.

Neither Joy, nor Sorrow

As part of my unit on Transcendentalism, and later with my students thinking about their personal legends while reading Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist, I like to draw upon the wisdom of Henry Longfellow's poem A Psalm of Life. That topic is this week's column.

Heather Mallick, a Canadian writer, recently observed “Canadians are catching the American disease: expecting personal happiness.” In fact, she speculates that for Americans the situation is even worse because they have moved from expecting happiness to actually demanding it.

This uniquely American affliction, the expectation of bliss and happiness and aversion to discomfort, has been brewing for a while. In fact, it is ironically the result of the positive and optimistic belief in the American Dream. Somewhere along society’s progression over two hundred years, Americans moved past simply valuing the opportunity for prosperity and happiness. Personal comfort and satisfaction are now expected, even perceived as a Constitutional right. When our lives are not perfect and endlessly rewarding, we assume something is wrong, or worse that we have been wronged.

Political philosopher and Notre Dame professor Patrick Deneen, author of the book Why Liberalism Failed, believes the national condition is a natural and expected side effect of success. Deneen asserts that classical liberalism based on the concept of individual liberty has failed because it succeeded. Both offshoots of classical liberalism, the progressives and the conservatives, promise more than just opportunity. They promise ideal societies free of any disappointment. In pursuing individual liberty as the greatest value and right, people have become unmoored from the virtues that enable them to responsibly handle and appreciate liberty. The classical concept of freedom includes being free from base self-absorbed instincts that can cause harm.

In the poem “A Psalm of Life,” the Transcendentalist New England poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow observed “Neither joy and not sorrow is our destined end or way, but to act that each tomorrow find us further than today.” The point of life is not to be happy, though there’s nothing wrong with that outcome. Of course, the point of life is not to suffer either, a claim Wadsworth made in protest to and rejection of Puritan beliefs about suffering on Earth while waiting for joy in the afterlife. Instead, Longfellow asserts the point of life is simply progress. It’s about getting better day to day. So, we should regularly ask ourselves: am I a better person today than I was yesterday? A better husband or wife? A better mother or father? A better son or daughter? A better friend? A better practitioner of my faith? A better citizen? A better member of my community? A better person?

I’m just guessing, but I suspect many people who are suffering do so because they have unrealistic beliefs about happiness. Some people suffer because they mistakenly believe they are supposed to be blissful, comfortable, and thriving all the time. And if life is not all sunshine and roses, then something must be wrong. But there’s nothing actually wrong – that’s just life, which is neither great nor awful. It just is. Feeling anxious is not the same as suffering from anxiety. Feeling sad is not the same as being clinically depressed. Feeling stressed is not unto itself a bad thing – in fact, it’s often good. Stress is what tells the body and the mind to be aware, mindful, and attentive to significant, even urgent matters. It is a natural defense system. However, contemporary society is too quick to diagnose a pathology for discomfort and medicate the natural ups and downs of existence.

Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche is considered the happiest man in the world, yet he has no possessions, and seemingly no worries. He is a Nepalese Buddhist monk whose brain has been extensively studied to understand his incredible calm and contentment. The most interesting part of his story is that as a young man he suffered from incredible anxiety and debilitating panic attacks. And he suffered despite having a close, supportive family. As a child he says, “my life in general was wonderful.” It was when he turned to a lifetime practice of meditation that his anxiety lessened and his well-being increased.

The daily ups and downs of life, including achievements and failures, stressors and joys, are natural and to be expected. The downsides of life often teach us as much or more as the positives. Granted, when stress and anxiety go into overdrive, they can become like an autoimmune allergic reaction where the body or mind’s response is disproportionate to the threat. The challenge is figuring out when we are overreacting to the natural rhythms of life.

Thus, happiness is a blessing, and disappointment is inevitable. The point is simply to acknowledge and move forward.

What is Comfortable?

When does necessity become luxury? When does comfort become affluence? Thoughts on being comfortable are this week's column for The Villager. 

Renowned bioethicist Peter Singer once published an article entitled “The Singer Solution to World Poverty,” in which he spotlighted the increasingly dire need for basic necessities of food, water, clothing, shelter, and medicine in many parts of the world. Singer suggested that prosperous and affluent people in developed countries have a responsibility to provide those necessities to the less privileged. “The formula is simple,” Singer writes. “Whatever money you’re spending on luxuries, not necessities, should be given away.”

Of course, nothing is ever simple, certainly not the challenge of solving world poverty. The beginning point to addressing Singer’s plan would be to first establish a definition of luxury and necessity. And the subjective nature of our experiences makes that nearly impossible. In 2005 when the College Board put Singer’s idea on the AP English exam and asked students to defend or challenge his plan, one clever student asked that simple question with one key example – how necessary is toilet paper? In reality and across history, such a simple commodity is clearly not necessary. That said, few people in contemporary society would agree, unless they recently installed a bidet, which should actually be considered a luxury.

Another key component of Singer’s idea is determining if redistribution of wealth and assets can, in fact, end world poverty. The history of allegedly communist and certainly socialist countries seems to indicate the answer is no. Collectivism simply doesn’t work on any large scale, though small successful communities like a kibbutz suggest collaborative societies are certainly viable. Critics of redistribution are fond of referencing the “Ten Cannots” from Reverend William Boetcker who asserts “You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich.” Incidentally, that platitude is often incorrectly aligned with Abraham Lincoln, a mistake made by Ronald Reagan in his speech at the 1992 Republican Convention.

Granted, Boetcker words are simple platitudes which don’t necessarily make them valid or true. On the other hand, the ideas of Peter Singer are not simple quips, but instead the summation of decades of research and investigation. And, as a professor of philosophy and ethics, Peter Singer is an advocate for practicing what he preaches, giving away a large amount of his earnings over his lifetime. In fact, following his winning of the 2021 Berggruen Prize, Singer quickly announced he will not keep the million dollar prize, instead distributing it among his charitable foundations. Thus, it’s not easy to dismiss Singer’s ideas when backed up by his actions, and it should make us question our ideas about luxury and necessity.

As a middle-class wage earner living in contemporary suburban America, I try to remind myself that by nearly every measure, I am one of the wealthiest people in all of human history. The relative comfort in which I live and the conveniences that I take for granted as basic necessities of life could be considered luxury and even a lavish lifestyle when compared to the majority of the world’s population. In fact, compared to the record of human history, I am in many ways more comfortable, if not actually wealthier, than kings and queens of yesteryear.

What does it really mean to be “comfortable”? In a world of increasing wage and wealth gaps, the concepts of comfort and middle class have become muddled. Wharton Business School professor Nina Strohminger recently asked her students what they thought the average American worker makes annually. One-quarter of them thought it was more than six figures, and one student actually guessed $800K – the actual answer is $45K a year. The aloof nature of elite business students is unsettling to say the least, and it complicates talk of comfort. In fact, a Denver area realtor recently told the Denver Post, the measure of a “luxury home” is no longer a million dollars. In determining luxury and wealth, “it really starts at two million.”

Americans have a strange relationship with wealth and status, striving diligently for it, then liking to pretend they haven’t made it. In fact, the news and social media is filled with stories of people talking about “struggling” financially while living upper-middle class lives. Instead of calling themselves rich, affluent, or wealthy, many Americans tend to refer to themselves as simply “comfortable.” Such modesty is a rather significant understatement, though everything is, of course, relative. People can downplay affluence as mere comfort, but for Peter Singer and the world’s four billion people living on five dollars a day, that’s a bit hard to accept.

Whose Classroom?

In this week's column for The Villager, I ponder the growing interest and influence that parents, families, and community members have or are requesting in their local schools.

An interesting thing happened when schools went online last year – parents were given an insider's view of what goes on in the classrooms where they send their kids to learn. And now that the parents have been inadvertently invited into the classroom, some of them don’t want to leave.

Joanne Jacobs, an education researcher, has been writing about the issue of parental interest, involvement, and control that has arisen following the pandemic. Those issues came to a head last November in the Virginia governor’s race where controversies in Loudon County Schools became a factor in Glenn Youngkin’s campaign. Observers described the rise of a “parents matter” movement and credited it with Youngkin’s surprise victory. Jacobs believes that, after a year of depending on parents to be very involved in the actual teaching of the kids, parents may have a case for more influence in the classroom.

Discussion about parents’ role in what and how students are actually taught has been brewing for a while now, emerging ten years ago with the Common Core State Standards. Countless parents were shocked to realize they couldn’t help their kids with math homework under the new expectations. Recently, parents have questioned everything from cursive handwriting in elementary schools to the study of literature for seniors. In Michigan recently, the Democratic Party was criticized for a statement on the role parents play in the education of their kids. A post on the party’s Facebook page argued "The purpose of public education in public schools is not to teach kids only what parents want them to be taught."

In one regard, the very nature of schooling suggests parents should not be in charge of the education of their children. Unless they choose to homeschool and manage the curriculum and instruction, the decision to send kids away defers that authority to others. That deference is what the Michigan Democrats meant when they clarified that the role of public schools "is to teach them what society needs them to know. The client of the public school is not the parent, but the entire community, the public." Jack Schneider and Jennifer Berkshire made a similar claim in a Washington Post op-ed titled, “Parents Claim They Have a Right to Shape Their Kids’ Curriculum – They Don’t.” While that claim may seem inflammatory, their argument really isn’t. Education is about teaching students to “think for themselves,” even if some of those ideas run counter to the views of their parents. And in regards to many topics, parents may make decisions that aren’t always in the best interest of their children.

Similar debates are unfolding across the country, as in Indiana where late last year the attorney general introduced a Parents Bill of Rights. The fifty-page document reiterates numerous legal rights such as the opportunity to run for school board and the legal access to special education. However, the platform also makes general and ambiguous claims like “education policy and curriculum should accurately reflect the values of Indiana families.” In reality, policies and curriculum should reflect the best practices of content and pedagogy that will prepare students for post-graduate life which includes college and careers. It’s about creating a well-educated populace and fully actualized adults, not just reflecting a broad term like values. And it’s odd to envision one uniform, homogenous Indiana family which represents all seven million Hoosiers.

The transient nature of a student body and the inconsistent participation of families also makes such uniformity problematic. Even in the current era when school board meetings are politically charged and more widely attended, participation remains a miniscule percentage of a community. Thus, parent control of curriculum, standards, and pedagogy would inevitably represent only a small but vocal group. Curriculum cannot simply be adjusted year-to-year or even month-to-month, nor should it be, for that would be an inefficient model for instruction. Kids are in elementary, middle, and high school for at best five years, while staff are there for decades. Educators spend entire careers refining their content and craft, not a few hours watching a board meeting, reading a magazine article, or following a brief discussion on talk news.

In a recent editorial for the St. Louis Post Dispatch, Marita Malone, a professor and school board director advised that “Public schools must return to teaching and let parents do the parenting.” That pragmatic view is a rather astute observation that should guide this issue.

Walk Your Line; Don’t Cross Others’

When the supermarket service workers recently went on strike against the Kroger corporation in Colorado, some people cross the picket line and shopped there anyway. I did not. The why is my column this week for The Villager:

I did not cross the picket line. I did so out of simple respect. When the commercial service workers went on strike against King Soopers and the Kroger corporation for ten days, I did not cross the line. I did not shop there. I did not interfere in or subvert these workers’ efforts to negotiate wages and working conditions with their employer. As a middle class wage earner living in suburbia, I did not presume to know their business and fully understand the challenges they face in the workplace everyday. So, I did not cross the line because I respect the working class people of the service industry.

In a recent column for the Denver Post, writer, part-time professor, and aspiring politician, Krista Kafer explained why she crossed the picket line. In her somewhat curt and straightforward manner, she said she crossed the line because she needed groceries and the labor dispute wasn’t her business. “It’s not personal,” she says. People who choose to cross picket lines do so out of one of two positions – privilege or principle. Kafer’s choice was clearly one of privilege, which she cleverly masks in principle. While Kafer argues that she crossed the line because she wasn’t a pawn in the game, she let her privileged principle blind her to the role she plays as a consumer. And, of course, she capitalized on the opportunity by crafting a column out of it. Despite claiming she had no stake in the issue, Kafer actually did take a side, supporting the Kroger corporation over the people who work the aisles.

Growing up in the river town of Alton, Illinois, outside St. Louis, I lived near three steel mills, two automotive plants, several refineries, and numerous manufacturing plants. I grew up around Owens-Illinois Glass, Alton Boxboard, Olin Brass, and numerous other factories whose collective bargaining agreements with their workers built much of the middle class in the areas around St. Louis. My father worked in labor relations for decades, albeit from the management side. But through the experience of my community and my father’s job, I learned a great deal about labor, about contract negotiations, about work stoppages, and about collective bargaining. It’s where I learned to not cross a picket line. As a point of disclosure, I should note that while I am a teacher, I am not a member of the local education association.

As a young man, I came of age during the 1980s and the Reagan Revolution, and the first political leader I supported to succeed the Gipper was New York Representative Jack Kemp, the original compassionate conservative. As a former NFL player and a resident of Buffalo, Kemp had an authentic understanding of the working class. As co-founder and president of the AFL Players Association, he had a deep understanding of labor. Kemp knew well how collective bargaining simply makes sense. Why would anyone go it alone when everyone knows there’s strength in numbers? It’s not for naught that Ben Franklin reminded the colonists, “we must all hang together or we will surely hang separately.” Collective action in pursuit of just goals is an American tradition.

I live across the street from my local King Soopers, and for twenty years I’ve shopped there, sometimes daily. My children grew up knowing the names of the produce stockers and the deli counter workers who chatted with them, often letting them sample the selections. By contrast, I suspect Krista Kafer’s experience working many years for politicians inside the DC Beltway has left her aloof to the everyday lives and working conditions of service workers. She knows little of the people she passes in the aisles. Kafer said the contract negotiation is not her fight. If so, she should have stayed out of it; instead she chose a side. She chose to interfere and subvert the service workers association’s ability to negotiate a contract.

If people like Ms. Kafer want to understand the workers she disrespected, the essential workers she dismissively walked past on their picket line, then she might consider reading some books about the history of organized labor and the challenge to create a middle class for the working class. As an English teacher, I’d recommend she check out Upton Sinclair's The Jungle or Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed. Or perhaps she could simply talk to the people she has so casually dismissed.

I respected the picket line, and I always will.

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