2009

A disagreement between Republican legislators and President Obama over the firing of a federal inspector general has ensnared DC Public Schools Chancellor Michelle Rhee. According to a report issued by Senator Charles Grassley and Representative Darrell Issa, Rhee conducted "damage control" concerning charges that her now fiance Kevin Johnson had engaged in inappropriate sexual conduct with AmeriCorps volunteers. In addition, when Rhee learned of one allegation, she said she would make it her number one priority and take care of the situation.

The volunteers' charges were included in a criminal referral by Corporation for National & Community Service IG Gerald Walpin, but ultimately dropped as part of a deal between Johnson and the United States Attorney. Walpin was subsequently fired by Obama, an act that Republicans have charged was a political favor to Johnson.

Our mission: To survive two cross-country flights with three young children, plus a seven-night cruise with assorted in-laws. Clearly, the numbers were against us.

Carry-on items for airplane: Baby wipes, check.  Boarding passes, check. Nintendo DS with charged batteries (we’ll not make that mistake again, by God), check. Snacks, gum, sweatshirts for the chilly plane, change of clothes for the baby, People magazine to peruse during leisurely moments (hey, a woman can always dream… but when did my fantasies about Brad Pitt become fantasies of finding time to read about Brad Pitt?) – check, check, check. Tylenol for packing-induced migrane, check.

Happiest moment of trip: A young businessman looks up from his Wall Street Journal at our unruly mob -- haggard parents, wired children, and drooling baby -- and flees from our row with an expression most often seen in horror movies when young campers get a glimpse of Jason’s flashing knife. Fine, maybe I gave one of my kid’s ears the slightest motherly tug to spark a timely squabble (“Hey! He pulled my ear!” “No, I didn’t -- owww! He hit me!”) They’ll work out their differences in therapy twenty years from now – in the meantime, we got a coveted empty seat!  

This article was originally posted in the DCUM Forum thread "229 Teachers RIFed, see DC Wire for full story". It is being republished here with the permission of the author, who has chosen to remain anonymous.

Most of yesterday was a normal day for me, a third year special education teacher. I wake up at 5 am. After getting up, getting ready, and feeding my four month old baby, I check my DCPS email, respond to a question about a student, and enter grades from the day before. Everything I need to do online I do at home in the early morning, because I don't have internet access at school.

I take the metro to Anacostia and then walk the mile to the high school, arriving to work at 7:30. On the way in I see the assistant principal who tells me that there will be 10 students added to my caseload of 20 and I should consult with their general education teachers about their progress. I go to my classroom and prep. I set up learning stations for my group of diverse first period learners. Some will be doing a math activity, others a reading activity for the first 20 minutes of class. All teachers are then called to a meeting. We are told that DCPS has lost their contract with Hawk One Security, and therefore today there will be no security guards. All teachers will need to give up their planning periods to man the halls.

This weekend my husband and I celebrated our seven year wedding anniversary. Well, actually the anniversary occurred earlier this month, but amongst the craziness of our lives we postponed the date night celebration to this weekend.

I still feel like a married rookie in some ways. But when it comes to verbally communicating, Chris and I have definitely improved, and we've developed a sense of humor about those specific questions that require specific answers in a male/female relationship. After seven years of married life and nine years together, for many situations we have implemented a system not unlike a dance with choreographed steps.

I'm the last person who needs an excuse to spend more time on the computer.  When my kids want juice, my instinct is to say, "Put that request in an email, will  you?" I've bought everything from aspirin to diapers to shoes on-line (and yes, the shoes didn't fit, and no, I didn't get around to returning them, and please, don't tell my husband. I told him they didn't fit because my feet change size with every pregnancy).

But recently, I took the plunge and entered the great time-suck known as Facebook. I'm not sure why I did it, except all my high school friends were doing it, and I'm just hypocritical enough to tell my kids to stand up to peer pressure but crumble to it in a New York minute myself.

At first I felt addled and ancient. What was the big deal about this newfangled network all the young people were talking about? And why would I want to post a note on someone's "wall" - their Facebook page - when I could have a lengthy, personal, and pleasant talk with them by email? I had no time for this; there were ill-fitting shoes to be ordered.

Originally posted by "anonymous" in the thread titled "DCUM, it's not you, it's me":

I think there are several different types of posters on DCUM. Let's start with the noble nice guys. These people come on here with trepidation, generally do not post many questions, but mainly answer others. They are always nice, always helpful, and go out of their way to say things like "this may not apply to you" or "you've probably already thought of this approach, but have you considered..." They bend over backwards to give helpful advice in a way that doesn't sound overbearing. These people keep me coming back. 

Then there are the obvious trolls. These seem to be the work of one or two posters. Foreign-born former nanny is the standout here. She disagrees with everything just for the sake of being crotchety, typically insults Americans in general, tells us how we're worse than a "third world country", and then adds that she is sorry for our husbands or children. All with creative grammar, lots of ALL CAPS and free standing sentence fragments. 

What parent hasn’t heard these words? “Be an advocate for your child.”

But what does it really mean?

When my 6-year-old started first grade, I kept hearing those words over and over again from parents with children in the public school system.

“Be an advocate for your child.”

And I wondered…what did people really mean when they said that?

Now I know. And I’m here to tell you, this is what it means:

- Talk to your child about his day at school.
- Visit the classroom.
- Ask questions.
- Follow-up.
- If something doesn’t seem quite right to you, talk to the teacher. Talk to other parents. Talk to the principal. Talk to the PTA. Explore the formal complaint process in your school district.
- Follow your gut.

I lost 10 freaking pounds people.

It could be a little more, since I'm in the throes of the PMS bloat and last night scarfed the Peeps I'd bought early for the kids' Easter baskets. But it's real weight, not "bridesmaid dress" weight where you turn around two seconds after a good number on the scale and then THEY'RE BAAACKK like Poltergeist bloody 2 or something. It's wow, I really have to belt these jeans so I don't show butt crack weight. Or dude, I don't need Spanx with that cocktail dress after all weight. The best? Wow, I can't believe those pants still fit is that really my ass did I finally get back to that number? weight.

Last year, we were that family on your airplane.  The ones pleading with the ticket agents to seat us together and arriving late due to a lost blankie in the security line, the ones with two kids constantly crying, the owners of the portable DVD player blasting Dora and Diego for a solid three hours.  You probably bumped into our child's head when it was hanging out in the aisle as she shamelessly nursed uncovered, and yes, we were the ones holding up the deboarding process as we tried to figure out how to open our double stroller.  Hey, you started that game of peek-a-boo - I warned you that it wasn't a good idea in the first five minutes of a cross-country flight. 

At back-to-school night recently, a mother whose child is new to our school rose from her seat with a puzzled look on her face.

“My son came home the other day and told me that you two” -- she gestured toward two of the elementary-school teachers – “are married and are expecting a baby, and that you’re both leaving the school next month. Can you let us know more about that?”

The teachers looked at each other and burst into laughter. When they could finally speak, they explained that none of them are leaving the school, or are pregnant, or are polygamists (the male teacher is married to another woman).

"About 95 percent of what your child tells you is happening in school may not be perfectly accurate,” one of the teachers gently pointed out, at which point all of the parents started laughing.