Work ethic healthy in Beatty Brothers

The Beatty brothers have written a book detailing how they have, since childhood, been making money Pulling Weeds to Picking Stocks. Now in their advice book they share the principles of hard work, organization, and business savvy that they learned from their parents.

The 7 x 5 inch 100-pager, written on a 9-12 year old reading level had, just four days ago, an Amazon ranking of around 560,000th. Not good.

Then on Friday, David Beatty called the Rush Limbaugh radio program and stated his intention to donate about a third of the profits to the Marine Corps for their service to the country and their family.

Today? Monday morning? The Beattys’ book has leaped to the number five position! A now sold-out bestseller. They earn money teaching marketing principles and have just provided a powerful object lesson.

What’s the chief lesson here? Hard work? Excellence in parenting? Good teen models? Only in America?

All of the above. And I also know that the publishing industry generates more stories of serendipity and human interest that often supersede the actual content of what they publish. Sequel? ” Meet the (Beatty) Parents.

Education: It’s all personnel

In one of NYC’s school districts, one principal with vision and a refusal to accept business as usual has achieved a reading test score improvement from 37% of 3rd graders who can read at grade level to 90% . One of his strategies is the firing of imcompetent teachers — he’s rid the school of 1/3 of the teaching staff.

Many variables affect education. We all know of success stories of kids that have received a quality education in public or private schools, large or smal classes, rural or urban settings, northern or southern locales, humanities program or none. Then there’s home school — its stats are the best in many areas. 

Today Slate has an article that supports my belief and Anthony Lombardi’s, the PS 49 principal, that “it’s all personnel.” Or much of it.  It’s the individual in a particular classroom that makes the difference. A gifted teacher has a unique communication style that makes others want to “pick up on” what she’s saying. It’s tone, it’s inflection, it’s passion, it’s expertise, it’s personality. Actually, it’s hard to define. But Lonbardi says he knows it when he sees it happening. And when it isn’t happening, he takes action. Imagine the injustice to a child who has had a string of bad teachers. 

The good news is that personnel is an element we can control.

Fighting teachers’ unions (they labeled Lombardi a “tyrant”) and firing substandard teachers isn’t easy. And that matters why?

Read the article for all the research data which indicates that predicting good teaching abilities is nearly impossible. Teaching creds, advanced degrees, and other resume items aren’t factors. A supervised internship followed by a do or die performance test is the most commonly suggested plan.

“spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings” Wordsworth

Here’s to the dads who stayed
 – to the dads who played
(so tired !)
who needed sleep but could keep on
building or singing or drawing.
Here’s to the dads who prayed.

Here’s to the dads who read
– to the dads who said
books were good
and that we should
read and think and wonder.
Here’s to the dads who led.

Here’s to the men who loved
– who kept a roof above
our thick heads instead of
moving on to greener things –
foreign fruits and such.
Here’s to the men we love.

Sunscreen: More than skin deep

A definite low-point in my life was the time my doctor announced that the mole was malignant melanoma. He had scooped off and dropped into a jar my lovely inner-thigh mole, all the while declaring that it looked fine and was probably nothing. Just a precaution. That was years ago, and while melanoma is extremely virulent, my chances for survival are excellent. Who knows?

Any way, I had to make some adjustments since my favorite place is the ocean and my sport is tennis. I wear sunscreen and visors and stay out of the sun when I can. 

I learned some things. Did you know that “mela” is Greek for “black?” And that a current cancer didn’t happen last week. It was those summers on the beach when I blistered up at the age of eight or nine and on. Apparently we weren’t designed to go around half naked for hours having fun in the sun. Nobody knew. Also, candidate John McCain had it a few years back –lots of Arizona sun, I guess.

So I was interested in the March ‘08 report from the CDC on how MOST sunscreens are damaging to the skin, the hormones, birth weight, and more. Bad news. Everyone tested had the insidious chemical oxybenzone in his urine. This also involves make-up and moisturizer that contain sunscreen.  Children are particularly vulnerable.

Solution? Capitalism will ensure that safe products abound shortly as people become informed. For now, my research shows that products using the old zinc oxide/titanium dioxide formula are the ones to choose. I did not see a single usable product at my local drugstore chain. I bought Neutrogena Sensitive Skin 30 at the grocery store, and it seems to be alright. It was $10.00 for FOUR OUNCES!

Some online sources are on top of this and have products available, but I was in a hurry.

Here’s more about the report http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/columnists/chi-schmich-zorn-09-may09,1,615350.column

Wondering about a mole? Here are pictures and a measuring guide  http://www.skincancerguide.ca/melanoma/images/melanoma_images.html

Plastic playgrounds are just sad

Slate Magazine contributor Tom Vanderbilt has an article  ”Lawn Pox” which made several amenable points. First Vanderbilt decries the sprawl of huge, plastic, primary-colored “play sets” that clutter suburban lawns.  They’re ugly and usually vacant and therefore are a needless eyesore. Beyond that he suggests that the “toys” are indicative of significant sociological trends.

You should read about some of the companies that make these deluxe implements of “kiddie clutter” and what they get for a “6-in-1 Town Center!” Lucky kid!

Vanderbilt blames fear for the plastic jungle and disappearance of the community playground– fear of injury and predators. One parent boasted that there were no “splinters” in her kid’s smooth, plastic set. And then there’s parental guilt: get them a big, impressive toy to substitute for  . . .  you know.

One reader offered a feeble defense of the toys if you’re interested.

I’m not really pro-lawn, but I am anti-toy — not all toys, just the drossy kind. Giant toys for little children is just sad. The monoliths are as ugly as those green, plastic mail boxes and dog houses molded in the same vein. All of it’s headed for the yard sale.

My fondest memories are from gramdparents’ homes and the home of a second cousin. At the grandparents’ we ran through woods and built pine straw forts with sticks and sometimes broke garbage bottles on giant rocks (Milk of Magnesia was bright blue!) and pretended the shards were jewelry. Yea, it was dangerous if you were stupid.

At the cousin’s we had no “lawn,” so we played under a railroad track bridge with a creek running under it. There were probably snakes where we waded barefoot in murky water waiting for a train and the noise and terrific shaking. Good times.

And those woods? Leprechauns everywhere! We saw them! Promise.

Good-bye, Governor

Eliot Spitzer has resigned.  He needed to. He has shown poor judgment, immaturity, dishonesty, and selfishness.  His wife and three daughters are publicly humiliated and have some hard decisions to make. New York’s state government is at least temporarily paralyzed. The governor doesn’t understand, or does but is above it all, what makes a society cohesive, why character matters, and that the law has its roots in morality, or that morality has its roots in humanity and its highest good.

For what?

Alan Dershowitz has said that the governor’s involvement with “The Emporer’s Club”  — you’ve got to love euphemism — wouldn’t even make the back pages of anything in Europe, that this is a uniquely American situation. We’re, alas, backward. Bunch of Neanderthals.  Others are querying, what’s the big deal? One anchor said that men think with other than their brains sometimes, the Poor Dears, and so it was a mistake, but more or less a fact of life.

What’s wrong with prostitution? Why do most(?) Americans still think of paying for sex as immoral? It isn’t hard to figure, and it’s not a victimless crime. The erring man inflicts torturous emotional pain, worse than the physical kind, in his wife. By his act, he has told the world, “You, Dear, are inadequate. I need more, better, different.” No victim? His daughters will forever see good old Dad in a new light — or rather dark.

What about the prostitutes?

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
 ”I want to have sex with men who will pay me.”

These women were once somebody’s little girl. No victim? How many of them get marriage proposals from their patrons? A home? Kids? Where will they be when they’re 50 and the calls aren’t there? Reformed prostitutes testify that it’s
an extremely hard life physically and emotionally. They sometimes meet a man they really like. Too bad. He’s not here for love and may pick somebody else next time. How many women who are intelligent, fluent, well-educated, and
strong in character choose this line of work? How many men who visit prostitutes could keep up with a bright woman? How duped we are by a sick media that would glamorize something like prostitution and cheapen women and girls.

What about the multifarious social ills associated with illicit sex? Imagine the clean-up work the hooker has to go through — or not. Disease, pain, degradation, abortion, psychological damage, embarrassment. No victim? This goes much deeper than just a culture holding onto “Victorian,” antiquated values.

Now. What about the men? Men who need to visit a prostitute, to pay for sex, have failed to mature. They lack an understanding of what a woman is. A woman is an object in costume. A puppet, a vessel, a tool, an ego-enhancer
(men forget that she gets paid to flatter and please — they think she means it. “Oh Baby, you’re so  . . . whatever.”) A prostitute is a man’s leftover image from boyhood, a picture from the back of a magazine.  They are sexist in the most nauseatingly obvious way. What a double standard! How do these “high-level” men feel about married women paying men for sex — The Queen’s Club. Will the governor be fine “no big deal” if his three daughters join? Don’t worry, they can afford the pricey, high-end guys. Will we wink at our girls and congratulate ourselves for being progressive?

And legalizing something doesn’t fix the emotional pain. This is how we know we’re dealing with a truly moral issue, something that goes to the core of what separates us from the animals.

In another next-day kind of thought, I had commented on the despair of the wife and family. That is pretty presumptuous. The Missus reportedly encouraged the Governor to stay in office. It is possible that this relationship is one with broad boundaries.
BTW, as I updated this post to include the Governor’s resignation, I deleted it, but retrieved it from an email I had sent. The comments, however, were lost.  Please submit them again.

California Appeals Court and Homeschooling

Homeschooling families in California and thus all across the nation may be affected by the disheartening decision by the Second District Court of Appeal (”Feb. 28) that in order to teach a child at home, a parent must hold teaching credentials or risk criminal complaint. Around 166,000 children are homeschooled in California. The reasons vary, but many of the parents object to concepts such as “alternative lifestyles” that are frequently taught in state-run schools.

Why would the government object to a parent’s opting out of its system? Such parents still pay state taxes plus any costs involved in homeschooling. The children are tested and studies show that they usually surpass students educated in traditiional schools.  Do state schools really believe they are offering a product that engenders loyalty and affection? Statistics are dismal.

Now thousands of homeschooling parents who hold degrees or valuable experience in science, English, or math will not be qualified to teach their own children at home. But Johnny Sue is. Johnny Sue took the 12 hours of education courses and did a stint as a practice teacher to earn the state’s stamp of approval. She had to maintain a C average.

I hold these critical credentials — a teaching certificate issued by the State Department of Education.  I have it and I’m not sorry that I have it because it opens doors. But the point is that the courses required for certification were generally insignificant, poorly taught, and self-serving. For my master’s degree I eschewed grad courses in education and earned the pure master’s in English.

As far as teaching goes, many of the English classes were helpful, but my own reading, research, and planning, along with leadership and a good teaching environment were paramount — far above the easily dismissed fluff from ed courses.  Good teachers in any school are never judged by whether they hold the paper; they all do if it’s public. (In their defense, many state boards allow for “emergency certificates” for highly qualified individuals to cover shortages or in other special circumstances. Maybe this will be the out for parents.)

This need not be difficult. Children belong to parents, not the state. Parents bear the responsibility for educating their children. From there leave in place the exit testing that public school students take. Parents, like schools, are aware that college entrance testing looms before them; they want to succeed. And homeschooling parents, those that I know or have read about, are unselfishly dedicated to their children’s education. And they’re trustworthy.

In an article from the AP, the unnamed reporter states that “the appeals court said, the trial court had found that “keeping the children at home deprived them of situations where (1) they could interact with people outside the family, (2) there are people who could provide help if something is amiss in the children’s lives, and (3) they could develop emotionally in a broader world than the parents’ ‘cloistered’ setting.”

These statements are disturbing. They come from the government. Objections abound: for number 1 — Parents must decide with whom their children should interact and those that should be avoided. 2 — Define “amiss.” This language is too vague. Could amiss be a spanking or a church? 3 — The choice of a word with the religious connotation of “cloistered” is troublesome. Again, who defines the broader world for the family?

It’s too bad that many of our citizenry don’t know the role of government because that’s the real issue here. It’s an election year. Education issues don’t seem to be on the front burner, but they make a good place to test a candidate’s philosophy.

Call me a quitter.

I phoned my dad to tell him I had stopped smoking.        He called me a quitter.     (Steven Pearl)

In my family the worst thing next to folk dancing and incest was quitting. It didn’t matter that you hated it. “Don’t be a quitter.”  The idea was that if you made a committment to someone or something, you were obligated FOR LIFE or until the gig was up. Don’t sign up if you don’t intend to  . . .  and so on.

It’s not hard to discern the origins and practicality of such a dictum. Many events and activities in life shouldn’t be entered into lightly, as they say, and should be thought out so thoroughly that the necessity of quitting is precluded. Naturally. Given.

My parents were right not to let me quit the tough courses in high school. I wanted to, thinking “Current Events” and “Home and Family” would make me hip and prepare me for “life.” I was right not to let my daughter quit band when the going got tough, and it was requiring hours of memorizing scales and practicing difficult pieces. She’ll confirm my rightness. But I may not have been right in not letting my son quit certain sports.

My husband was out of the state for a few days a couple of weeks ago. In his absence I took a job. I had turned down a couple of offers, but this was a dream job that I really wanted in the priciest boutique in town. The owner and I hit it off, even supported the same presidential candidate, so after a two-hour interview I had the offer. I would help her manage the store. Best friends to be.

“What were you expecting in terms of salary?”
Well, uh, . . .  “I was thinking $$$. Is that doable?”
“Yes. We can do that.”
“Great!”

But walking to my car after closing that first day, I realized that I had made a mistake, lured yet again by the promise of easy.  I was actually running. The projects that I’m working on are getting harder. I spend a great deal of time working through tutorials. It’s too much sometimes. But it’s satisfying, and it suits me.

So I quit the first week. I needed to. Not quitting would have been taking the easy way out and sacrificing what I’ve wanted to accomplish for years.

I fully support not picking up activities (or people!) with little thought and then abandoning them.  By their nature many things demand sticking with it until the end. Marriage is one. Childbearing is one. But t-ball is not. Your college major is not. (I changed five times.) Leaving a job if you can afford to is not.

So call me a quitter.  It wasn’t easy given my upbringing.  But I’m taking my chances and trusting my instinct that it was the right call.