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Dr. B,

I am the student in your class who argued in support of deficit theory of understanding minority achievement during the discussion tonight. I would like to clarify that it was not my intention to support the value judgments that are commonly and mistakenly made by proponents of this theory. I believe these judgments are motivated by racist views rather than scientific evidence. The point I was trying to make is that genetic differences are present and should not be disregarded because of their presumed usefulness as a tool in culturally bigoted argumentation. Indeed, those who are in power throughout history have never needed science to justify their claims to power. I realize that this is not a science class and we don’t have the resources or time to examine every issue too deeply.

I would like you to know that I have a deep respect for the differences that exist in the cultures and peoples of our community. I believe it is through description, and the understanding which follows, that the courage to value difference comes. We can not pretend to be the same when we are not. For that, I am thankful, because it is beautiful to be different.

Sincerely,

James Lyons

The Ethic of Fairness In Contemporary Public Education

Fairness in the classroom is a difficult, but necessary, topic for discussion. The ideas of impartiality and equality are deeply ingrained in the minds of young students and the revelation of the falseness of these ideas is hard to receive. I believe fairness to be the treatment of all students equally, in accordance with their specific needs. It is a lofty belief and whether many or few hold it, it is certainly not held by all.

Either as a result of belief or biology, humans behave differently from each other. At times, these differences are large and, at times, they are small. Regardless, the various behaviors we exhibit are the evidence for the inconsistency of moral beliefs in our world. Does this inconsistency in the world warrant the teaching of a different kind of fairness? Some people work their entire lives to own their own home only to see it all wash away in the fury of Mother Nature. Bill Gates says, "Life isn'’t fair, get used to." Is this something our students should be sheltered from or taught openly? Is Bill Gates a good role model? Can we overcome the natural world?

The good, or bad, news is that educating forces are already at work in our classrooms. Humans have an incredible ability to teach themselves and shouldn't those forces be harnessed? Rather than setting up mini moral utopias, we might consider preparing our students for the kind of inconsistencies they will inevitably encounter. Will we do our students a disservice by attempting to convince them otherwise?

Robert Palmer's Logical Syllogism - 80's music in Review

Premise 1: Your lights are on, but you're not home
Premise 2: Your will is not your own
Premise 3: You're heart sweats and teeth grind
Premise 4: Another kiss and you'll be mine
Premise 5: Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah
Premise 6: It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough,
Therefore, you know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love

A Summer Job / The Horn Temp

My uncle (Pictured on the right) owns the central valleys largest and most well renown Musical instrument repair company. The Horn Shop, as it is so called, is known by all decent wind instrument players in and around the Fresno/Clovis metropolis for its quality of workmanship. The summer is the busiest time of the year for the Horn Shop. They maintain the brass and woodwinds for nearly 100 schools, servicing nearly 5000 instruments in all. This task, being impossible for the permanent technicians, requires the employment of seasonal workers affectionately referred to as "The Horn Temps."

As a "Horn Temp" my skills are at best rudimentary in comparison the my uncle but that doesn't mean the work is boring. Everyday, I'll disassemble, clean, de-dent, and reassemble 5-10 trumpets, marching horns, euphoniums, and tubas. Learning new skills and techniques has been by far the most engaging part of the job. There are many, many unique tools which are used for highly specific functions. The Ultrasonic Cleaner (pictured here), The Dent Eraser, and various mandrils are some of the more interesting ones. In additions, my coworkers are fun and interesting people.

For the most part, I have enjoyed this summer tremendously. I've worked long and hard (in addition to The Horn Shop, my uncle and I are building a house) and working hard is a good thing. Call me a Marxist if you want, but if you're not working, get off your bump and bust your hump.

Jane Child's Logical Syllogism - 80's music in Review

Premise 1: I don't wanna fall in love, no no
Premise 2: Love cuts just like a knife, woo woo
Premise 3: You make the knife feel good baby
Therefore, I'll fight you to the end

Monuments of Nostalgia

Just before my freshman year of highschool, my mother and step-father took the family on a tour of the country. Our final destination was Memphis and then Iowa, but we went by way of the southwest. This was my first trip to the desert and I was impressed by the heat and by the desolation and since then, it has always been my favorite place.

All the usual characters of the desert were discovered on that trip for the first time. I remember admiring the cacti and the likeness of Joshua Trees and U2 album covers. I remember the evening we drove through Monument Valley. I can not explain the feeling but it was something like surprise. Magnificent and terrible surprise.

As I think back on that night, I am full of deep sadness. I can't go back to that time. Back to when I was a boy and my step-father was a young man. Back to the rocks and trees and the overcast sunset that turned the world to a glowing grey. That world and its enormous monoliths which stand like sign posts pointing to things gone by, has past by me.

Sometimes, I dream that on that evening in the desert, if only I could be there again, I'd find all those whom I've ever loved, waiting for me to come to them.

I know that my writing is weak and that you're probably scratching your head right now. All I can say is that my eyes are filled with tears about the past. Tears ready to fall on the sands of an overcast desert.

The Jetta Heats Up

In addition to this blog, the Jetta, for which it is so named, has been in a state of disrepair. As the summer has climbed higher and higher into record temperatures, the temperature of my engine has also climbed above its normal, seasonal levels. This has resulted in a momentary shutdown (arh) of all jetta usage and has relegated all motor-vehicular transportation to other apparatus. I realize the rather large amounts of shame that go along with bumming rides and using your parents gas, but these are trying times. Damn trying, some might say.

With the Jetta down, but not out, I've decided to attempt to repair her myself. I've conferred with some mechanical minds and their prognostications give me both hope and confidence that the Jetta can be both restored and reinstituted. All I have to do is change the thermostat.

Before we go any further with this post, I must assure all 6 of you who still read this that "I ain't got time for" global warming or any other theories about why my car has been driven to exhaustion. I also ain't got time for workin' out in 113 degree heat either.

Anyway, while at work today, I listened to various channels on Sirius Satellite Radio.

How bout a nice, warm cup of STFU

Jorge Luis Borges in The Immortal

Death (or its allusion) makes men precious and pathetic. They are moving because of their phantom condition; every act they excute may be their last; there is not a face that is not on the verge of disolving like a face in a dream. Everything among the mortals has the value of the irretrievable and the perilous. Among the Immortals, on the other hand, every act (and every thought) is the echo of others that preceded it in the past, with no visible beginning, or the faithful presage of others that in the future will repeat it to a tertinginous degree. There is nothing that is not as if lost in a maze of indefatigable mirrors. Nothing can happen only once, nothing is preciously precarious. The elegiacal, the serious, the ceremonial, do not hold for the Immortals. Homer and I separated at the gates of Tangier; I think we did not even say goodbye.

Well... who do you wanna blame?

If lust and hate is the candy,
if blood and love tastes so sweet,
then we give 'em what they want.

So their eyes are growing hazy 'cos they wanna turn it on,
so their minds are soft and lazy.
Well... who do you wanna blame?

Hey, give 'em what they want.

And that John, the Favorite, was a Dry Fly Fisherman

"It is those we live with and love and should know that elude us."

Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.

Of course, I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn't. But when I am alone in the half-light of the canyon, all existence fades into a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.

The Report and Other

"Tragedies are like facts. You have to pretend they don't exist."
- Stephen Colbert

Also, this week I saw a bumper sticker that read:
"I support our troops and President Bush's decisions."


...things are heating up!

PS: I'm currently listening to Jeopardy by the Greg Kihn Band. Ooooh-ooh-oooooh

Jack

105.9 FM

...you were right, I was wrong.

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