Back to School with Common Core

Back to School with Common Core

One evening at a Mexican restaurant in Poulsbo, I picked up a copy of some Spanish language newspaper (La Raza?). I always feel that eating in a Mexican restaurant is more meaningful if you browse through the latest news on inmigración or fútbol while munching on your chips y salsa. This was towards the end of August, so the start of school was just around the corner.  Appropriately enough, the periódico had a headliner about Los Estándares Académicos—the Common Core State Standards.  Let’s call them the EAs from now on.

These have been looming on the horizon for some time, creating a mixture of anticipation and dread.  I don’t encounter too many people that express a genuine excitement about them, although it seems the younger teachers are more accepting of and, sometimes, enthusiastic about them.  We older teachers, battle-weary after decades of standards writing, revising, word-smithing, aligning, spiraling, assessment writing, and testing are a little less eager to face yet another revolutionary program.

Some people, not necessarily educators, seem to view the oncoming CC with actual fear.  To test this, I did an internet search (using Bing for a change) on “Common Core State Standards” and got a whopping 151 million results. I then followed it up with a search adding the word “criticisms.” This resulted in almost 41 million results, some with titles like “The War Against Common Core” raising fears that there’s a conspiracy afoot.  And fear seems to be at the root of the reactionary voices: fear of losing a sense of control in a local school system, a fear of lowering standards, or a fear of government-imposed ideologies.  Bueno, since this blog is NOT about politics, or even public education per se, I would suggest reading  this article from the National Review which, from a right-of-center perspective, nicely sums up the CC issue and hopefully allays some fears.

The Spanish article summed it up quite succinctly.  It first stated what the EAs are: puntos de referencia para medir el conocimiento y la capacidad de los estudiantes durante cada año escolar.  It then pointed out the justification for them, referring to the fact that different states have different academic standards, kids with a calificación of a “C” in one state, could possibly earn an “A” in another.  But I was more interested in the graphics illustrating the article.

Delivering all the positive messages of the EAs was a brightly smiling female cartoon character of the “big-head-little-body” type. She was sort of fairy godmother of public education, wielding her pointer like a magic wand. Her word balloons were in Spanish, but her extremadamente dark hue and straight hair made her hard to pinpoint ethnically. Her pearl necklace and dress-suit definitely gave her a professional air. But what I was most impressed with was the decision of the cartoonist to give her a modest physique, wider in the waistline than your typical female cartoon. She’s not Twiggy or Barbie.  She’s a slightly chunky, ethnically ambiguous lady. No chicas will suffer anorexia by comparing themselves to her, and no particular groups can be insulted by her. That’s an education in itself.  

Looks like Gideon has some Competición

Looks like Gideon has some Competición

After the Partners in Science conference was over, I moved from the superlative Hilton on Mission Bay to a serviceable but forgettable hotel down the street. It was fine, but primarily used as just a place to rest our weary heads between aventuras. Probably the highlight of our stay there was waking up to the sound of parrots squawking in the adjacent palm trees—something you just don’t experience in the Pacific Northwest.

I did make a discovery in our room, however. We’re accustomed to finding a Gideon’s Bible resting in the top drawer of the night table or dresser, and this hotel was no exception. There it was, crisp and unused, yet reassuring in a funny way. It’s a piece of Americana, of traveling tradition. But this time there was a twist. Not only was there good ‘ol Gideon’s Bible, but another book was sitting on TOP of the dresser. This one was completely unfamiliar.

It was called Jing Si Aphorisms, and was a small book of verses; about 240 in all. But these were not Bible verses, they were Buddhist. Well, since I know just about nothing about Buddhism, I’ll leave it at that: 240 aphorisms which, according to my online diccionario, are “terse sayings that embody general truths.”

The thing that caught my eye about the handsome little book, however, was that it stated each aphorism in four different languages: Chinese, English, Japanese, and Spanish. This was a Twenty-first Century Gideon’s Bible: positive and multicultural. I flipped through it, not so much to gain enlightenment but to compare the English to Spanish.  Here are a few examples:

If we can reduce our desires,

There is nothing really worth getting upset about.

Si logramos diminuir nuestros deseos,

No hay nada por lo que realmente valga la pena enfadarse.

Or how about:

The beauty of a group lies in the refinement of its individuals.

La belleza de un grupo está en el refinamiento de los individuos.

General truths are universal. The previous one has been expressed, I’m sure, in a Spanish proverbio; and the following one sounds extremely Biblical:

It is more of a blessing to serve others than to be served.

Es mayor bendición servir a otros que ser servido.

But let’s not leave Gideon’s Bible completely out, it also contains a lot of universal truths (as well as some slightly bizarre stories.) In fact, observing that Jing Si employs multiple languages makes me consider this world full of many tongues and the Biblical story of The Tower of Babel. At the beginning of this leyenda, it was said that the entire world spoke the same language (Hebrew?) But construction of the great tower somehow threatened God, and He responded by causing everyone to be unable to understand each other:

Genesis 11: 7

“Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.”NIV

Génesis 11:7

Vamos, bajemos y allí confundamos su lengua, para que nadie entienda el lenguaje del otro.

Bible literalists consider this to be an historic event that marks the beginning of the different languages on Earth. Can you imagine a bunch of Babylonian workers suddenly incapable of communication because each one suddenly spoke a different language? One guy says something in Arabic, but his confused coworker responds in Italian. A third guy interrupts using Ebonics. A final guy says “It’s all Greek to me.” Well, linguists would have a much different explanation, but let’s not even start that discussion. Suffice it to say that the good folks that donate the Gideon’s Bibles may want to take a look at the Jing Si format, and consult with their publishers about an updated version. America reads more than just English these days.

Of Conquistadores and Time Shares

Of Conquistadores and Time Shares

San Diego is a wonderful piece of the world, and I journey to that sun-embraced part of California every January to attend a conference called Partners in Science.  I began this tradition eight years ago when I did a research project with Seattle Biomedical, but that’s a bit of a long story.  Suffice it to say that I’m grandfathered into the system, and now get to enjoy a few complementary nights at the Mission Bay Hilton Hotel where the conference takes place.  Lori La Güera and my son Benji came along this year, but occupied themselves elsewhere while I attended the conference. For example, on the first full day of the conference, I joined a group of teachers and scientists that toured the facilities of Scripps Oceanographic Institute.  During this time, my significant others joined some friends and went to LegoLand®. 

While there, Lori was given an opportunity for a $100 gift certificate for Lego® merchandise. The only catch was that the “gift” required a promise to attend an hour long presentation at the Hilton LegoLand Resort—an opportunity to become “part owners” in the Hilton franchise.  For merely thousands of dollars, we could have access to glamorous vacation facilities and discounts on theme parks, plus have the chance to be somehow connected to Paris Hilton.  Who could say no? Someone who always feels two paychecks from poverty, that’s who. Excited, Lori called to get my consent. I said absolutamente no.  Six hours later they came back to the hotel with plastic bags filled with a hundred dollars worth of Lego items, evidence of a blatant disregard for the words of el jefe.

The second day of the conference was for viewing poster presentations of new participants, giving them the chance to illuminate people on their arcane scientific research.  There were also teacher workshops with offerings ranging from the use of nanotechnology in science classes to ways to motivate students toward STEM careers (STEM is currently the word of the day for science teachers. It’s an acronym for Science Technology Engineering and Math, and if you’re writing a grant, be sure to include it in your proposal.)  The evenings were filled with classy dining and stimulating talks.  In a nutshell, this conference recharges my intellectual baterías each year, and makes me truly feel like a professional.

On the Sunday morning following the end of the conference, we headed for SeaWorld, that colorful mezcla of science and entertainment—a theme park that tries to educate the general public who, for the most part, are satisfied with a superficial glimpse into the titillating realm of the fang-bearing sharks, or an anthropomorphically amusing sea lion show.  I’ve been to SeaWorld numerous times before, but wasn’t prepared for the spectacle that greeted us as we neared the entrance: a quarter-mile gauntlet of sign-wielding protestors lining the road.

The messages ranged from the straight-forward “BOYCOTT SEAWORLD” to the informative “WILD ORCAS SWIM 40-100 MILES A DAY IN THE OCEAN” to the play on words “THEY’RE DYING TO ENTERTAIN YOU.”  The protestors were passionate, and I am mostly on their side.  It’s a quandary for a marine educator like me.  I used to work with marine mammals at Marineland, and I felt empatía for our confined pair of Orcas (Orky and Corky) as they swam in their monotonous circles.  I even helped hold a baby Orca as the other trainers slid a lubricated tube down her gullet to feed her (Corky refused to nurse her.)  So I’m intimately familiar with the conditions being protested against.  But I also know that my ten year old son is much more amazed by beautiful large sea mammals now that he’s actually seen them up close and has gotten splashed by them (we sat in the Soak Zone of the Killer Whale show.)  One of the signs had the admonition to “WATCH BLACKFISH” which is a documentary currently on Netflix®.  I haven’t seen it yet, but I know I should.

On Monday we spent a glorious sunny morning…indoors. It was time to visit the LegoLand Resort and fulfill our part of the aforementioned $100 deal.  But what was originally billed as an hour-long presentation stretched into a two-and-a-half hour ordeal would have strained the patience of a tortuga.  We knew from the beginning that we weren’t going to buy, but felt a little obliged to endure the nice young lady’s enthusiastic sales talk as a way of saying “thank you for the $100 dollar gift certificate that I told Lori La Güera not to get.”  After traversing three layers of sales personnel with ever more affordable options, we escaped the LegoLand Resort and headed for the nearest Subway®. 

After lunch we drove to Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve where we hiked the trails over the cliffs, admired the unique Mediterranean-like flora, and played on the beach.  This was Benji’s first time wading into Southern California surf, and despite the fact that it was January, he took to the water like a natural dude.  I couldn’t have been prouder.  Dinner was in Old Town where I traditionally have a post-conference Mexican meal with some new form of margarita.  The choice this year was a refreshing cucumber & jalapeño concoction at Miguel’s Cocina—a delicious way to end an almost perfect day.

Tuesday was our final day, and I drove Lori and Benji to the airport early in the morning.  We had separate flights, and I wasn’t leaving until late in the afternoon. So I had time for one more aventura.  I had read about the intriguing sandstone formations of Point Loma and made that my destination. This is a place where waves crash angrily into rugged cliff walls at high tide, but expose tremendous tide pools at low tide. As it were, I got there during high tide, so got to see and hear the dramatic water show that is such a contrast to the comparatively nonmoving water of Puget Sound. This area, the cliffs and surrounding 600 acres of now-rare coastal sage scrub habitat, are part of the Cabrillo National Monument. I’ve known of this name and its association with Southern California since childhood, but didn’t know anything about Señor Cabrillo himself. So it was off to the visitor’s center for a quick look-see.    

 

The visitor’s center overlooks the city of San Diego and the bay. A godlike statue of Cabrillo surveys the spectacular view, rigid with its sandstone composition as well as its erect posture—accentuated by the cross-bearing column attached to his back. The proudness of this escultura reminds me of all the times Europeans are depicted as semi-deities discovering new lands and bringing enlightenment and civilization to the savages of the “New World.” But Cabrillo wasn’t quite the destroyer of native civilizations that Cortés was (although he did launch his career as the captain of crossbowmen under Cortés, and one has to wonder how many Aztec foes he fell.)

As I gazed at the armor-clad mannequin in the mini-museum (depicted in my dibujo above) I couldn’t quite hate him too much. Like SeaWorld, the Spanish conquistador (quick point of clarification: Cabrillo was neither Spanish nor a conquistador; he was Portuguese, and the term “conquistador” wasn’t coined until a hundred years after he died) presents a quandary. Sure he and his ilk, with their smallpox and their Catholicism, wiped away the indigenous peoples and their ways of life. But I, and millions of other Americans pocho and otherwise, are a product of his arrival. If Cabrillo hadn’t found the excellent bay that is now San Diego, we wouldn’t have the Mission Bay Hilton or SeaWorld. If his fleet hadn’t explored further up the California coast, we simply wouldn’t have the country we all enjoy. Ultimately all the organizations and landmarks mentioned above: Scripps Oceanographic Institute; Seattle Biomedical; Marineland; and even LegoLand® all exist because adventurous and greedy marineros along with their proselytizing monks and friars, invaded and settled this part of the world.

I’ve grown to accept the uglier parts of our common history out of necessity. Besides, one of the interesting legacies of Spanish colonialism is the pervasive use of español in west coast geography. In fact, next time you visit LegoLand, drive 0.8 mile northwest. There, overlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean, you’ll find a lovely upper-class residential area. Read the street names and you’ll find Los Robles Drive.