Over the weekend, we participated in the 2009 Childhood Apraxia for Speech Walk in Fort Worth. I realize that I almost never use the term "apraxia" to describe Schuyler's monster, mostly because in her case, we know where it comes from, which is hardly the case for many or even most parents of kids with apraxia of speech. We're at least spared some of the mystery, which is no small thing. Think of all the scariest movies you've ever seen; it's the monster you CAN'T see that inspires the deepest dread.
Schuyler's particular affliction, Bilateral Perisylvian Polymicrogyria (PMG), isn't a disease. It's a condition, a congenital malformation of her brain. From this condition spring the symptoms and the disorders and the disabilities that kids with PMG experience, such as epilepsy and apraxia. It's a subtle distinction, and one that is honestly sort of meaningless in the big scheme of things, but it does mean that families dealing with polymicrogyria are also dealing with these other disorders individually. To a parent whose child is being tormented by seizures, epilepsy is a more immediate concern than polymicrogyria. Sometimes the monster's claws loom larger than the monster itself.
So we signed up, raised some money (and thank you to everyone who contributed!), and on a perfect Sunday afternoon, we all met in a park and did this thing. We showed up, freaky non-barking pug in tow (and how perfect was it, bringing our non-verbal dog to an apraxia of speech event?), and I think everyone had a fantastic time. I got to meet some people who'd read the book and have some very meaningful conversations about it, and most of all, we got to spend time with families who are, in one way or another, in the same boat with us.
There were two groups who stood out in my mind at this event, both of whom represent a crucial part of the disability community and have their own unique set of concerns, and yet are both deeply marginalized in typical discussions of disability parenting.
Unless childhood apraxia of speech accompanies other conditions with more obvious manifestations, many of these kids, like Schuyler, can pass, at least at first glance, as neurotypical kids. Indeed, in watching them play together on Sunday, it was hard to tell which kids were apraxic and which were siblings or otherwise unaffected family or friends. Obviously, this is a double-edged sword. It's a good thing, mostly. These are kids who have one major social obstacle removed from their path, that gut-level negative reaction to someone who appears different or broken. It's that thing that lives in our lizard brain, the caveman instinct that says to flee the afflicted lest you yourself suffer the same fate. Any parent of a child with an outwardly obvious disability can tell you how horrible that reaction can be, even from the most well-intentioned. It's a bullet that Schuyler has largely dodged, and for that I am entirely grateful.
But at the same time, there is another look, another reaction, one that has its own sting. It's the one that parents of kids with autism are often the most familiar with, the one that is stripped of sympathy because your child looks, and here's that word, normal. Your child doesn't have outward signs of their disability, no physical malformations, no tics, no spasms or limps, no prosthetics, no flags that say "Tread carefully here". They appear instead to be children who act out, who choose not to communicate or to interact socially in a way deemed appropriate. Their parents are asked why they can't control their kids. I still remember the surly woman who berated Schuyler for "mocking" her questions with her nonsensical babbling.
It's not a worse problem, and in about a hundred different ways it's the one I'd pick if given a choice between the two possibilities. (What wouldn't I give for that third choice?) But it's real nonetheless, and watching Schuyler play with these kids on Sunday and knowing that anyone walking past would see nothing out of the ordinary, I was struck once again by the largely unrecognized thing that those of us with nonverbal or autistic or otherwise neurologically atypical kids want from the rest of you, the recognition that this IS hard. Sometimes we're not looking for answers or prayers or Holland poems or "turn that frown upside down" inspiration. Sometimes, all we want is for someone to recognize the situation for what it is. Sometimes, all we'd like to hear is "Fuck, that's hard."
It's hard for families, and most of all, it's hard for these kids. They want to be "normal", and appearing so doesn't change that. Looking like a real boy wasn't much consolation to Pinocchio.
The other group I saw in greater numbers than usual at the event was fathers. A lot has been made of the fact that mothers comprise the majority of disability caregivers, and for every blog and book out there dealing with fathers of disabled kids, there are many more from the perspective of mothers. The numbers are what they are. I won't try to pretend otherwise.
But I think it's time to start examining some of the underlying reasons that this inequality continues, something beyond "Guys are jerks." Lately, I've had the opportunity to meet some amazing fathers. I spoke on a panel at the Texas Book Festival with two other authors, fathers whose involvement with their children's care was extraordinary and moving. I had lunch recently with a father looking for advice on his own manuscript, a deeply personal look at his experience with a child with autism. And at the Apraxia Walk, I met fathers whose commitment to their kids is unshakable and which should be unquestionable.
When fathers like these come up against a society that expects them to fail their children and which doesn't even bother to make a place at the table for them, they feel marginalized. WE feel marginalized, I should say, because years of loud-mouthed advocacy and publication of a book hasn't changed the fact that I still have to insist on that spot in the discussion, too. For fathers less aggressive and narcissistic than me, the path of least resistance beckons.
I understand that every one of the "special needs moms" websites and books out there has a right to exist and speak to the particular issues faced by mothers of broken children. But I also wonder how many of those particularly "mother" pressures would be eased if we started to make that place for fathers to feel like they are part of the discussion. Because everyone time a writer couches the struggles of families of disability in the guise of "mothers' issues", they are instantly excluding some of the voices that matter the most.
Not all of the discrimination in the disability world comes from outside. Not all the erroneous assumptions are made by people who don't, or shouldn't, know better.
November 18, 2009
November 10, 2009
Flygirl Realized
On Halloween weekend, we had an amazing experience, one that we're unlikely to forget any time soon. Almost a week and a half later, we're all still talking about it.And the book festival was fun, too.
A few weeks ago, when they saw that Schuyler had chosen her hero, Amelia Earhart, for her Halloween costume, Austin friends Jim and Pat Howard emailed me with an amazing offer for Schuyler's weekend in town for the Texas Book Festival, assuming we had time. When I read the offer, I knew immediately that we'd make the time.
I'm not sure how long I've known Jim and Pat, although I can remember Jim giving me a hard time about buying my previous car, the admittedly ridiculous Beelzebug, and that was over ten years ago. Jim and I couldn't be further apart in our politics, but we've never let that poison our friendship. As a result, I think that even when we disagree, we do actually hear each other occasionally. We finally met face to face a number of years ago, I believe when I returned to Texas from my Yankee exile, and Julie and I have counted the Howards as constant supporters of Schuyler and this family for as along as I can remember. I was delighted by their offer, but I can't say I was surprised.
So it was that on a beautiful, clear Sunday morning a week and a half ago, Julie and Schuyler and I found ourselves at the airport in Austin, walking out to see what was easily the most beautiful aircraft I have ever seen.
The jet is a Dassault Mystere Falcon 900, built in France and considered to be among the finest, if not the finest, civilian aircraft that a gigantic box of money can buy. (According to the Dassault website, there are only 160 of them in the world.)
The pilot of the Falcon is Kyle Kimmell, and from the first moment we met him, he impressed us with his kindness towards Schuyler, his patience with her and his appreciation of her enthusiasm. I can't even begin to express how generous it was for him and for the plane's owner to have prepped and made available for her to see it like this. The Falcon was sleek and perfect on the outside, and indescribably plush in the cabin, but Schuyler was only interested in the cockpit. Kyle explained what all the controls did, he didn't flinch when she grabbed the headset and put it on, and he even let her start up the engines. (I suspect she burned about a month of my salary's worth of fuel while we were sitting there.) He was more than patient. Kyle seemed genuinely happy to show this amazing aircraft to Schuyler, and he thanked us for bringing her more than once.
And really, getting to go on board the Falcon and sit in the cockpit and fire up the plane's systems, all of that would have been enough to make Schuyler's whole year.
But we were just getting started.
Jim is a member and past president of the Chandelle Flying Club in Austin, the group that owns the 1978 Piper PA-28 Warrior that he took us up in. Like her hero Amelia Earhart, Schuyler got to take to the air.
Owing to a lack of space and Julie's intense and unshakable desire not to leave the ground, the flight consisted of Jim and Schuyler in the front and me sitting behind them. Jim walked Schuyler through the pre-flight check and showed her exactly what he was doing, and then we were off.
Schuyler can be a squirrelly kid when she gets excited, and we were worried that she might get a little flighty, no pun intended. But throughout the whole experience, from the moment we climbed into the plane on, she was suddenly very focused, listening carefully to Jim's instructions and becoming very quiet when he needed to communicate with the control tower. She was a perfect little passenger as the plane took off and as Jim climbed to about 3000 feet.
And then she became a perfect little pilot.
I don't think she believed that she was actually flying the plane until Jim took his hands off the controls altogether. He showed her the basics of flight control and then, for the bulk of the rest of the flight (excluding the landing, of course), Schuyler piloted the plane. Jim would pick landmarks on the ground, such as smoke from a fire or the glint of the sun on a lake, and Schuyler would take us there, circling the target once we arrived. Jim emailed me afterwards to let me know that she had in fact been flying the plane for most of the flight. "I think she pretty much figured out how to control the roll axis," he wrote. "When I helped it was usually with the pitch axis. As is typical for new flyers she started with a death grip on the control yoke, but unlike some adults I've flown with I was able to persuade her to relax and hold the yoke more gently, which makes flying much easier."
It's a funny thing about Schuyler. She's got this disability, and it throws obstacles in her path every day. School is challenging for her and will only become more so. The social life of a preteen girl isn't going to be easy or gentle on her, either, particularly not in a town like Plano. Her future is harder than I let on sometimes, perhaps because I want her story to be nothing but successes, and I suppose sometimes I don't talk much about the bumps that she hits, or the ones still waiting in the future for her.
But Schuyler is tenacious, and while she loved flying and is still talking about it (and answering happily to "Flygirl"), I don't think it occurs to her that she's unusual for getting to go up in an airplane, to actually take control of an aircraft and fly it. For Schuyler, life seems to be a series of experiences, of new people to meet while she signs books with her face on the cover, to attend a book festival and listen as her story is discussed by a panel of published authors, to see herself or her father on television, or to take to the air. I've gotten a lot of things wrong with her over the years; I've blown it many times as her father. But by introducing her to a world with people like Jim and Pat Howard and Kyle Kimmell in it, and by trying my very best to accommodate unique opportunities for her, I like to think that sometimes I get it right, even if that just means getting out of her way. I'm forty-one years old and I've never flown an airplane. I like to think that Schuyler's life experiences will intensely outshine my own. In all the significant ways, they already have.
All of this is to say that I am immensely proud of Schuyler, more than I have words for.
Jim described Schuyler as "a real ball of fire, with the heart of a lioness". I felt bad for him in one moment, when he took the controls to show Schuyler exactly how steeply the plane could turn. I'm not sure what he thought he saw when he glanced over at her, but he seemed to think that perhaps he'd pushed it too far, that the daunting angle of the plane had frightened or bothered Schuyler. But midway through the second turn, I tapped her on the shoulder and asked her if she was having fun.
I think the photo I snapped when she looked back at me says it all:
Thanks to pilots Jim Howard and Kyle Kimmell.
"It is before our very eyes..."
Excerpts from remarks by President Obama at the memorial service at Fort Hood, Texas.
For those families who have lost a loved one, no words can fill the void that has been left. We knew these men and women as soldiers and caregivers. You knew them as mothers and fathers; sons and daughters; sisters and brothers.
But here is what you must also know: your loved ones endure through the life of our nation. Their memory will be honored in the places they lived and by the people they touched. Their life's work is our security, and the freedom that we too often take for granted. Every evening that the sun sets on a tranquil town; every dawn that a flag is unfurled; every moment that an American enjoys life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness – that is their legacy.
...
As we face these challenges, the stories of those at Fort Hood reaffirm the core values that we are fighting for, and the strength that we must draw upon. Theirs are tales of American men and women answering an extraordinary call – the call to serve their comrades, their communities, and their country. In an age of selfishness, they embody responsibility. In an era of division, they call upon us to come together. In a time of cynicism, they remind us of who we are as Americans.
We are a nation that endures because of the courage of those who defend it. We saw that valor in those who braved bullets here at Fort Hood, just as surely as we see it in those who signed up knowing that they would serve in harm's way.
We are a nation of laws whose commitment to justice is so enduring that we would treat a gunman and give him due process, just as surely as we will see that he pays for his crimes.
We are a nation that guarantees the freedom to worship as one chooses. And instead of claiming God for our side, we remember Lincoln's words, and always pray to be on the side of God.
We are a nation that is dedicated to the proposition that all men and women are created equal. We live that truth within our military, and see it in the varied backgrounds of those we lay to rest today. We defend that truth at home and abroad, and we know that Americans will always be found on the side of liberty and equality. That is who we are as a people.
Tomorrow is Veterans Day. It is a chance to pause, and to pay tribute – for students to learn of the struggles that preceded them; for families to honor the service of parents and grandparents; for citizens to reflect upon the sacrifices that have been made in pursuit of a more perfect union.
For history is filled with heroes. You may remember the stories of a grandfather who marched across Europe; an uncle who fought in Vietnam; a sister who served in the Gulf. But as we honor the many generations who have served, I think all of us – every single American – must acknowledge that this generation has more than proved itself the equal of those who have come before.
We need not look to the past for greatness, because it is before our very eyes.
...
Long after they are laid to rest – when the fighting has finished, and our nation has endured; when today's servicemen and women are veterans, and their children have grown – it will be said of this generation that they believed under the most trying of tests; that they persevered not just when it was easy, but when it was hard; and that they paid the price and bore the burden to secure this nation, and stood up for the values that live in the hearts of all free peoples.
So we say goodbye to those who now belong to eternity. We press ahead in pursuit of the peace that guided their service. May God bless the memory of those we lost. And may God bless the United States of America.
October 31, 2009
Dads on an Uncertain Mission
October 31, 2009 | 2009 Texas Book Festival | Austin TX
Saving Your Children: Dads on an Uncertain Mission
Saving Your Children: Dads on an Uncertain Mission
(l-r) Antonio Ruiz-Camacho (moderator), Rupert Isaacson, Michael Greenberg, Robert Rummel-Hudson
With Michael Greenberg, author of Hurry Down Sunshine
With Rupert Isaacson, author of The Horse Boy
October 30, 2009
Impermanence
This is the beginning of a busy weekend, beginning with an event tonight at Legacy Books here in Plano, after which we'll pile into Atomo (The Air-Conditioned Hellcar of the Apocalypse) and drive to Austin for the Texas Book Festival on Saturday and then a fun surprise for Schuyler on Sunday that I look forward to telling you about after it happens. (Oo, teaser.) As you may or may not have heard, tomorrow is Halloween, so if you're at the Book Festival, watch for the tiny Amelia Earhart. If there's more than one, go for the Amelia that's speaking Martian.
There's excitement here, and there's nervousness. The other two authors on my panel are best-sellers, after all, and I'm usually somewhat unconvinced of my authorial worth even on a good day. But I'm also looking forward to meeting them and especially to the panel. We're all three fathers with broken kids, and we've all dealt with that role in wildly different ways, but there are similar threads running through all our stories. I think it's going to be an interesting discussion.
Through all the book fanciness and all the advocacy opportunities and the speeches, and in every simple and complicated and euphoric and sad aspect of my world, at the center of it all sits Schuyler. She's the reason for it all. When everything else has faded and gone, there she'll be.
We went to see Tibetan monks as they built a Mandala sand painting in Dallas recently, and I explained the concept of impermanence to Schuyler. She seemed to get it, how nothing lasts forever, how my father grew old (sort of) and died, and how one day Julie and I would as well. She didn't like that at first, but when I also pointed out how one day she would grow old and die, too, and so would HER kids, Schuyler seemed weirdly comforted. I got the sense that on some level, she really got it, she connected with something bigger than us all.
We took Schuyler to see the Amelia Earhart movie, which, I must point out first and foremost, was not a very good film. But it looked beautiful and it hit most of the important big events in a way that Schuyler could grasp, and so for a nine-year-old with an interest in the subject, it wasn't bad. One of the few parts of the film that was really compelling was the very ending. (SPOILER: She disappears, probably as fish food.) We talked at length about that after we left the movie.
"What happened to her?" asked Schuyler. "Did she die?" She accompanied this with her self-created sign language for dying.
Julie and I looked at each other as if to weigh exactly how to answer this, but the thing is, Schuyler already knew that Earhart had disappeared. She did a report on her last year. That answer wasn't very satisfactory to her, however, and she wanted more from us.
"Yeah," I said, just putting it out there for her. "She probably crashed her plane and died. That's really sad, isn't it?" Schuyler nodded, clearly not liking where the discussion had gone.
"But here's the thing," I said. "Amelia Earhart died doing the thing that she wanted to do more than anything else in the world. She wanted to fly airplanes, right? And I'll bet that if you could ask her how she would have wanted to go, she would have said that she wanted to die flying her airplane, doing the thing she loved the most."
She turned this over in her head for a few moments and then nodded. "Yeah," she said.
"The cool thing about Amelia Earhart was that she wanted to be a pilot and fly airplanes, and she made that dream come true. I like that she's your hero, because that's what you're going to do, too. Whatever you decide you want to do, you're going to make it happen. I know that."
Schuyler liked that answer. Well, I like it, too.
There's excitement here, and there's nervousness. The other two authors on my panel are best-sellers, after all, and I'm usually somewhat unconvinced of my authorial worth even on a good day. But I'm also looking forward to meeting them and especially to the panel. We're all three fathers with broken kids, and we've all dealt with that role in wildly different ways, but there are similar threads running through all our stories. I think it's going to be an interesting discussion.
Through all the book fanciness and all the advocacy opportunities and the speeches, and in every simple and complicated and euphoric and sad aspect of my world, at the center of it all sits Schuyler. She's the reason for it all. When everything else has faded and gone, there she'll be.
We went to see Tibetan monks as they built a Mandala sand painting in Dallas recently, and I explained the concept of impermanence to Schuyler. She seemed to get it, how nothing lasts forever, how my father grew old (sort of) and died, and how one day Julie and I would as well. She didn't like that at first, but when I also pointed out how one day she would grow old and die, too, and so would HER kids, Schuyler seemed weirdly comforted. I got the sense that on some level, she really got it, she connected with something bigger than us all.
We took Schuyler to see the Amelia Earhart movie, which, I must point out first and foremost, was not a very good film. But it looked beautiful and it hit most of the important big events in a way that Schuyler could grasp, and so for a nine-year-old with an interest in the subject, it wasn't bad. One of the few parts of the film that was really compelling was the very ending. (SPOILER: She disappears, probably as fish food.) We talked at length about that after we left the movie.
"What happened to her?" asked Schuyler. "Did she die?" She accompanied this with her self-created sign language for dying.
Julie and I looked at each other as if to weigh exactly how to answer this, but the thing is, Schuyler already knew that Earhart had disappeared. She did a report on her last year. That answer wasn't very satisfactory to her, however, and she wanted more from us.
"Yeah," I said, just putting it out there for her. "She probably crashed her plane and died. That's really sad, isn't it?" Schuyler nodded, clearly not liking where the discussion had gone.
"But here's the thing," I said. "Amelia Earhart died doing the thing that she wanted to do more than anything else in the world. She wanted to fly airplanes, right? And I'll bet that if you could ask her how she would have wanted to go, she would have said that she wanted to die flying her airplane, doing the thing she loved the most."
She turned this over in her head for a few moments and then nodded. "Yeah," she said.
"The cool thing about Amelia Earhart was that she wanted to be a pilot and fly airplanes, and she made that dream come true. I like that she's your hero, because that's what you're going to do, too. Whatever you decide you want to do, you're going to make it happen. I know that."
Schuyler liked that answer. Well, I like it, too.
October 24, 2009
Flygirl
Since we'll be in Austin on Halloween for the Texas Book Festival, here's one more reason for you to come. You'll get to meet Amelia Earhart.
October 16, 2009
Wild Things
Schuyler had a day off for parent-teacher conferences today, so Julie and I took the day off as well. After a brief and painless meeting, we went to see Where the Wild Things Are.
And now I have a few thoughts on the film, which was not at all what I expected.
I can't say that Schuyler loved it, not with the wild abandon she has loved other monster movies or kids' movies. She was fascinated, and she wanted to discuss it after, which is always a good sign, but I get the sense that she's still trying to decide how she feels about it. I certainly wouldn't describe Where the Wild Things Are as a monster movie or a fantasy film, but as for whether or not I would call it a kids' movie, I'm not so sure.
It's not a children's movie in the sense that the Wild Things themselves are in any way fantastical or entertaining as mythical creatures. They are very human, in some vaguely neurotic but very familiar ways. But I think that Where the Wild Things Are is VERY much a kids' movie in that it perfectly hits some emotional truths about what childhood is really like, and especially how horribly and confusedly we treat the people we love the most. That these truths come from the mouths and the actions of weird Sendak monsters makes the perspective feel new, and yet totally familiar.
It's easy as adults to forget that childhood can be in large part a scary and frustrating experience, full of insecurity and fear, and that like Max in the film (and to a lesser degree the book), often the only course available to kids who find themselves feeling powerless and afraid is to act out. Not in cute, "rambunctious" ways, but with an intense, feral energy that leaves them even more conflicted and fearful after it's spent.
When Max lashes out, it's a little shocking, not because we've never seen it before, but because the emotions that drive him remind us of our own long-buried childhood experiences. His issues stem from his own complicated family relationships. He loves the people around him, but his young emotions are complicated by his worry for their sadnesses which he cannot fix, and his rage at the complexity of his own place in their lives, and in a world where things aren't fair and the sun will one day die. Max is confused by his own anger, as if the choices he makes are inexplicable to him. You don't have to be ten years old for that to feel real.
When the Wild Things misbehave or simply express their own neurotic impulses badly, it also feels weirdly familiar. If you don't know someone in your real, adult life who can be represented by just about every one of the Wild Things, then I suspect you don't know very many people. More to the point, if you don't recognize significant parts of your own personality in each of the characters, I don't know. Maybe you're just more well-adjusted than I am, but there's also the possibility that you might be living a somewhat unexamined life. If you are open to the experience, I think Where the Wild Things Are presents a rare opportunity to examine that inner self.
Is it the book? No, it's not. If you are wanting to see the book, Where the Wild Things Are is not your movie. (Although really, the good news for you is that the book didn't suddenly cease to exist the day the film opened.) Like the best adaptations, the film takes a starting point from the book and becomes something alive and relevant in its own right.
For little kids, the ones for whom the original book is age-appropriate, this film probably isn't a good choice. Not because it'll be too scary, I don't think (except for one or two sequences, if your kid is especially sensitive), but because it is probably a little more introspective than they are looking for. The Wild Things might be cool monsters, but they're still mostly just talking things out.
Kids who are a little older may take to Where the Wild Things Are, however, in ways that may surprise parents who might fear that it's too dark. If I'd seen this movie when I was ten, I think it would have resonated with me like crazy. It certainly did now.
October 15, 2009
Schuyler's Halloween Preview
The first (and most crucial) parts of Schuyler's Halloween costume arrived in the mail yesterday.
When we began the whole "What do you want to be for Halloween?" dance this year, we assumed it was going to be the same "Fairies vs. Mermaids" struggle we go through every year. (Fairies! Mermaids! WHO WILL TRIUMPH?!?) Both present problems that go beyond just "Really? Again?" For example, good luck finding (or assembling) a fairy costume in which your sweet innocent child doesn't end up looking like some fetish-specializing hooker. And mermaids? No feet. Have fun hopping from door to door like that. Also, again, mermaids don't typically wear a lot on top, you know? No feet, and boobs. It's a father's worst nightmare. Nine year-olds shouldn't be sexy, my friends. They really shouldn't.
This year, Schuyler surprised us by agreeing, very excitedly, that she should go as her beloved Amelia Earhart. This new hero thing began last year, when she was assigned an oral report on a historical figure for school. From the list she was given, Schuyler picked Earhart (with some help from us, I confess -- does the world need another little girl who wants to be Princess Diana?), and ever since, she's shared that little report on her device with anyone who'll listen. So if you've met Schuyler in the past year or so, chances are you've learned a little somethin' somethin' about her hero.
In an interesting bit of serendipity, we recently learned (the quaint old fashioned way: via a television commercial) that there's a movie coming out in a few weeks about Earhart, starring Hilary Swank. So things are going to be all about Amelia Earhart around here for a while. We might get sick of it eventually, but for now, Tinkerbell has taken a back seat to an actual admirable historical figure, and one whose personal philosophy, like Schuyler's, might best be summed up as "You say I can't do that? Fuck you."
We'll actually be at the Texas Book Festival on October 31, so I have no idea what we'll be doing vis-Ã -vis Halloween, but at the very least, the chances are excellent that if you attend my panel, you'll get to see Schuyler in full-on aviatrix mode.
Anyway, here's your Halloween preview.
This year, Schuyler surprised us by agreeing, very excitedly, that she should go as her beloved Amelia Earhart. This new hero thing began last year, when she was assigned an oral report on a historical figure for school. From the list she was given, Schuyler picked Earhart (with some help from us, I confess -- does the world need another little girl who wants to be Princess Diana?), and ever since, she's shared that little report on her device with anyone who'll listen. So if you've met Schuyler in the past year or so, chances are you've learned a little somethin' somethin' about her hero.
In an interesting bit of serendipity, we recently learned (the quaint old fashioned way: via a television commercial) that there's a movie coming out in a few weeks about Earhart, starring Hilary Swank. So things are going to be all about Amelia Earhart around here for a while. We might get sick of it eventually, but for now, Tinkerbell has taken a back seat to an actual admirable historical figure, and one whose personal philosophy, like Schuyler's, might best be summed up as "You say I can't do that? Fuck you."
We'll actually be at the Texas Book Festival on October 31, so I have no idea what we'll be doing vis-Ã -vis Halloween, but at the very least, the chances are excellent that if you attend my panel, you'll get to see Schuyler in full-on aviatrix mode.
Anyway, here's your Halloween preview.
October 12, 2009
Go Team Schuyler
Julie, Schuyler and I ("Team Schuyler", naturally) have decided to participate in the 2009 Childhood Apraxia Walk in Fort Worth, after following a link on organizer Anne Devlin's Facebook page. I realize that you may be struggling with the idea of me actually walking for three miles without there being some kind of automotive emergency or the actual breakdown of civilization. But this is a cause that goes right to the heart of us, because verbal apraxia is one of the manifestations of Schuyler's Bilateral Perisylvian Polymicrogyria.
It's the monster that keeps her from speaking.
Childhood Apraxia of Speech is a motor speech disorder. For reasons not yet fully understood, children with apraxia of speech have great difficulty planning and producing the precise, highly refined and specific series of movements of the tongue, lips, jaw and palate that are necessary for intelligible speech. Apraxia of speech is sometimes called verbal apraxia, developmental apraxia of speech, or verbal dyspraxia.
The Childhood Apraxia of Speech Association of North America or CASANA's "mission is to strengthen the support systems in the lives of children with apraxia, so that each child has their best opportunity to develop speech". CASANA is the only charitable organization in the United States whose exclusive mission is to represent the needs and interests of children and families affected by apraxia.
We're hoping that if you live in the area, you'll join us for the 2009 Childhood Apraxia Walk in Fort Worth. It'll take place on November 15, 2009 at Trinity Park in Fort Worth. It will be a family-friendly walk with the option of a 1-mile or a 3-mile. If you register by October 26, you'll be guaranteed a Walk for Apraxia T-shirt in your size.
If you can't join us, we would appreciate your sponsorship. All proceeds from this event benefit CASANA's apraxia programs and research.
Seriously, we hope you'll be able to join us. You'll get to spend three miles with Schuyler (no more than ten or twenty feet of which will take place in a straight line, I suspect; she walks like a moth flies), and if my old, fat Robba the Hutt body fails me from the extreme trauma of walking three whole miles, you can point and laugh with a clear conscience and non-boomeranging karma.
TEAM SCHUYLER
On Columbus Day
I just realized that today is Columbus Day, and in doing so, I remembered writing about this holiday once. When I went and looked it up, I realized that it was actually six years ago. I can't believe it's been so long; I actually wrote this shortly after Schuyler's diagnosis, when we lived in New Haven, Connecticut.Anyway, I remembered it as being amusing, and you know how I live to amuse, so here it is, along with a short followup.
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October 8, 2003
I was looking ahead on Schuyler's social calendar and realized that her day care is going to be closed on the 13th. (Child-nappers, take note: not a good day to grab her.) When I did some probing investigation (i.e. asked someone), I was surprised to learn that the center (and presumedly a bunch of other stuff) will be closed because of Columbus Day.
Columbus Day? I was sort of surprised to learn that Columbus Day is still a national holiday, much less one where people get to stay home and drink beer. I guess I figured that Columbus had been tossed out in a blaze of political correctness, which actually would be fine with me. I'm not sure many of the indigenous populations he "discovered" would be inclined to throw a barbecue in his honor. I can't imagine that "Smallpox Day" is a popular holiday in the Bahamas.
I'm not sure why we even bother with Columbus Day, really. He's not much of a role model, after all. He mooched money off of swishy inbred monarchs in order to finance his expeditions. He was a failure as an administrator of the lands and peoples he subjugated. He was famous in his day as a visionary and a skilled mariner, but history has judged Columbus as a greedy, ruthless imperialist, a bit of a religious kook, and the earliest vanguard of the European plunder of the New World. He was brutal to the native population, even trying at one point to introduce them as slaves to Spain. Perhaps most importantly, he never actually set foot on the North American mainland and was never shaken from his belief that he had reached Asia.
So it would seem that Columbus was a bit of a doofus. ("Hi, I'm Columbus, your host. Welcome to Japan!") But of course, the main problem with celebrating Columbus as the European discoverer of America is that he was beaten to the punch by about five centuries.
We shouldn't be celebrating Columbus Day. We should be celebrating Viking Day.
Vikings reached North America around the year 1000, probably led by either Leif Ericson or his son, and for a decade or so they stomped around and presumedly set shit on fire and engaged in lots of indiscriminate recreational killing. The Vikings even tried to establish a colony for about three years before getting sick of fighting with Indians and returning to pillage boring old Europe again.
Vikings in America! How cool is that? I imagine them getting out of their long Viking boats, with their big beards and their horned helmets and furry boots and big giant monster axes and swords. They jump out of their boats, look around menacingly, and then say "YAR!" and start killing everything and setting shit on fire. They run around killing bears and and biting the heads off of rabbits, and then they see some gentle Indians walking out of the forest bearing gifts of welcome. The Vikings say "YAR!" again and start killing all the Indians. They pillage and burn and destroy, then they sit around a big fire eating some of the animals they slaughtered, wiping their big greasy hands on their new pelts.
I imagine the Indians looking out of the woods at them and thinking, "Oh man. White people. This isn't going to end well."
So yeah. I think Vikings are a much better representation of the American spirit. They sailed around and invaded other countries, burning stuff and killing people and generally being a pain in the ass. They were primitive barbarian badasses who drank wine out of human skulls. And unlike Columbus and the "explorers" who followed him, Vikings didn't pretend like they were doing their victims a favor. They pillaged, but they were up front about it, at least. I think that as Americans, we've sort of lost our way in that respect.
Viking Day. Think about it. Yar!
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June 9, 2004
I'm always interested and amused at the unexpected things that draw people's ire from my writing.
Do you remember the entry (one of my favorites, honestly; it's one of the very few times that I managed to crack myself up) where I wrote about Columbus Day and the Vikings? I wrote about how the Vikings beat Columbus to the New World by about five centuries and made better role models for Americans anyway.
Now, this wasn't an entry that I expected to receive much irritated email about. If anything, I thought I might get some sort of "what's a mattah YOU?" email from some proud Italian-American out there (remember that episode of The Sopranos?), but what I DIDN'T expect to get instead was a stern correction from a Viking re-enactor (I swear to God) who wasn't happy about my representation of Vikings. They didn't wear horned helmets, she said, and didn't rape and kill indiscriminately, and CERTAINLY didn't drink wine from skulls. (She could have been right about that last part, I might have made it up.)
I guess my point is that I never know what's going to piss someone off, and it is honestly one of the reasons I keep writing online. It's like some sort of wacky social experiment that I'm carrying out on YOU, my Slobbering Minions. (I did have someone unsubscribe from my notify list because she didn't like being called a Slobbering Minion. That was perhaps less surprising than the Viking thing, now that I think about it.)
Incidentally, I'll admit that the wine drinking from human skulls thing was probably bogus, but I'm standing firm on the horned helmets. I mean, how else would people know that the barbarians burning down their village were actually Vikings? It's not like you'd want to go to all that trouble, only to have someone ask you, "Hey, who are you guys? Visigoths?"
It's all about the uniform.
October 9, 2009
The Boomtown Curse continues (or "Why does Jay Leno hate America?")
You know, sometimes I hate being right.
The rest of you can get all worked up about Obama and the Nobel Peace Prize today. All of my tinfoil hat-wearing outrage is directed at NBC, the network which is, if I hadn't made this clear yet, DEAD TO ME.
NBC Cancels Well-Regarded ‘Southland’
Today, NBC canceled one of the best-reviewed shows of recent years, the police drama “Southland,” before it had a chance to get on the air for its second season.
The show, which premiered in the spring and had a strong start in the ratings, though it struggled in its later episodes, had six new episodes produced for the new season. But NBC delayed its start date from mid-September until Oct. 23. NBC has been filling that hour — 9 p.m. on Fridays — with the newsmagazine show “Dateline NBC.”
Now NBC has dropped “Southland” altogether. Ratings for Friday shows have become universally low, and expensive dramas seem to be faltering especially on Fridays. “Dateline” can be produced for a fraction of the cost.
“Southland” started as a 10 p.m. show on Thursdays, and its style was consistent with others that have played there for decades. But NBC no longer has any 10 p.m. periods for drama because it has moved the new “Jay Leno Show” into that slot every weeknight. The style of “Southland” was largely distinguished by gritty police work and sometimes dark, troubled characters — not unlike previous NBC hits like “Hill Street Blues.”
The rest of you can get all worked up about Obama and the Nobel Peace Prize today. All of my tinfoil hat-wearing outrage is directed at NBC, the network which is, if I hadn't made this clear yet, DEAD TO ME.
September 30, 2009
Texas Book Festival schedule announced
Saving Your Children: Dads on an Uncertain Mission
with Michael Greenberg, Rupert Isaacson, and Robert Rummel-Hudson
Date: Saturday, October 31, 2009
Time: 12:00 - 1:00
Location: Capitol Extension Room E2.030
Being a parent is hard enough without having to cope with a sudden, inexplicable illness striking your child, challenging you in ways that seem inhumane. Even with today's modern medical advancements, there are still little to no explanations for what causes autism or severe psychotic episodes. In this session, three fathers who've had to confront such confounding illnesses in their children discuss their long, often arduous journeys to understanding and dealing with such issues that seem to have no explanation behind them. Michael Greenberg's teenage daughter was struck mad on a New York City street, Robert Rummel-Hudson's beautiful infant daughter soon revealed that a monster within her had stolen her ability to speak, and Rupert Isaacson seeks the guidance of Mongolian shamans as he tries to keep his five-year-old autistic son from unraveling completley. Antonio Ruiz-Camacho, an experienced journalist who is currently writing a memoir about his upbringing as a part of a Mexican mixed-class family and his relationship with his father, will moderate the session.
Authors:
Robert Rummel-Hudson
Rupert Isaacson
Michael Greenberg
Moderated by: Antonio Ruiz-Camacho
with Michael Greenberg, Rupert Isaacson, and Robert Rummel-Hudson
Date: Saturday, October 31, 2009Time: 12:00 - 1:00
Location: Capitol Extension Room E2.030
Being a parent is hard enough without having to cope with a sudden, inexplicable illness striking your child, challenging you in ways that seem inhumane. Even with today's modern medical advancements, there are still little to no explanations for what causes autism or severe psychotic episodes. In this session, three fathers who've had to confront such confounding illnesses in their children discuss their long, often arduous journeys to understanding and dealing with such issues that seem to have no explanation behind them. Michael Greenberg's teenage daughter was struck mad on a New York City street, Robert Rummel-Hudson's beautiful infant daughter soon revealed that a monster within her had stolen her ability to speak, and Rupert Isaacson seeks the guidance of Mongolian shamans as he tries to keep his five-year-old autistic son from unraveling completley. Antonio Ruiz-Camacho, an experienced journalist who is currently writing a memoir about his upbringing as a part of a Mexican mixed-class family and his relationship with his father, will moderate the session.
Authors:
Robert Rummel-Hudson
Rupert Isaacson
Michael Greenberg
Moderated by: Antonio Ruiz-Camacho
September 27, 2009
On Limits
I just read post by Anne Newman on the "Working Parents" blog, part of the online edition of BusinessWeek, titled "Do Kids with Disabilities Strain or Strengthen Our Schools?".
The bulk of the post involved Dan Habib, the father and filmmaker responsible for Including Samuel, which tells the story of his family's fight for inclusion for his son Samuel, who has cerebral palsy. The BusinessWeek post asks Habib about public acceptance of inclusion, and the citizens who are quoted sound identical to many whom I've heard from on the subject, including in the comments to my own blog. Habib's answer is brilliant.
"People are not limited by their disability, they are limited by a lack of opportunity."
The bulk of the post involved Dan Habib, the father and filmmaker responsible for Including Samuel, which tells the story of his family's fight for inclusion for his son Samuel, who has cerebral palsy. The BusinessWeek post asks Habib about public acceptance of inclusion, and the citizens who are quoted sound identical to many whom I've heard from on the subject, including in the comments to my own blog. Habib's answer is brilliant.
But in this economy, just how much enthusiasm is Dan getting for inclusion? Not everyone is a fan—not by a long shot, judging by some of the comments on my blog last May. "Why do we even bother paying for education for these kids?," wrote a commenter named Lilly. "Their parents chose to have kids and now their disability and special needs amount to a rise in taxes. Their parents just get a lawyer and fight and fight until the school district ends up paying for special programs. Why? Why not divert the funds for gifted and talented students instead of kids who will need societal support their whole life."
Lilly's anger about how taxpayers' money is spent is not so uncommon. How many of us have heard the same complaint in our own school districts? And how many Lillys does Dan run into on his?
I pitched that question to him by e-mail, and he replied with a list of "myths and realities" about inclusion. One myth, he says, is the notion that taxpayers are throwing away money by educating kids with disabilities. His response: "How can Lilly or anyone else predict which child will contribute to our society? Would Lilly really argue that Bernie Madoff … added more to the world than the physicist Stephen Hawking (who wrote his greatest work after he was severely disabled by ALS)? How about Albert Einstein (widely thought to have had Asperger Syndrome), Helen Keller (blind, deaf, and unable to speak) and Vincent Van Gogh (mentally ill)? People are not limited by their disability, they are limited by a lack of opportunity."
"People are not limited by their disability, they are limited by a lack of opportunity."
I could try for a year to find the words to describe my own philosophy of inclusion, and I couldn't do better than that.
September 26, 2009
School of Hard Knocks
NPR reported on a new study ("Does Spanking Make Kids Dumber?") by Murray Straus, professor of sociology at the University of New Hampshire, which shows that children who are spanked have lower IQs. The results are being published in the fantastically-named Journal of Aggression, Maltreatment and Trauma.
"It is time for psychologists to recognize the need to help parents end the use of corporal punishment and incorporate that objective into their teaching and clinical practice. It also is time for the United States to begin making the advantages of not spanking a public health and child welfare focus, and eventually enact federal no-spanking legislation."
I don't say this very often, but I think NPR was being extremely lazy in the way they chose to present this information. I don't think spanking your kids makes them dumb. I don't believe that those of you out there who choose to strike your children are actually beating their brains out of their little heads.
I do think that, in general, people with poor communication skills and a lack of education are less equipped to deal with their children in a logical, intelligent way. As a result, they lose their tempers more quickly, turn to violence and frustration more easily and, most importantly, teach those same "skills" to their kids.
Or perhaps it is simply the fact that the same intellectual incuriosity that leads these families to turn to violence to address their issues is also present in other areas of their intellectual development. Smart people don't hit their kids? Perhaps they don't need to. I would suggest that contrary to what the NPR headline suggests, it's not the kids who are made dumber by being hit.
I've written about my feelings on corporal punishment before. ("Spare the child", July 2006) It was a pretty comprehensive statement on corporal punishment, so I don't think I need to say it all again. But I think the last few paragraphs bear repeating. My feelings haven't changed one bit, except that I believe them more strongly than ever.
In a study of American kids, Straus and a colleague asked parents of about 1,500 young children participating in an IQ research project how often they spanked their children.Straus doesn't pull any punches in his opinion of what this study means for parents, and for our society:
The findings? The 2- to 4-year-old kids who weren't spanked at all, according to their parents, had IQs that were, on average, about five points higher after four years than the kids who were spanked. The same trend held for 5- to 9-year-olds, though the differences were less pronounced.
"It is time for psychologists to recognize the need to help parents end the use of corporal punishment and incorporate that objective into their teaching and clinical practice. It also is time for the United States to begin making the advantages of not spanking a public health and child welfare focus, and eventually enact federal no-spanking legislation."
I don't say this very often, but I think NPR was being extremely lazy in the way they chose to present this information. I don't think spanking your kids makes them dumb. I don't believe that those of you out there who choose to strike your children are actually beating their brains out of their little heads.
I do think that, in general, people with poor communication skills and a lack of education are less equipped to deal with their children in a logical, intelligent way. As a result, they lose their tempers more quickly, turn to violence and frustration more easily and, most importantly, teach those same "skills" to their kids.
Or perhaps it is simply the fact that the same intellectual incuriosity that leads these families to turn to violence to address their issues is also present in other areas of their intellectual development. Smart people don't hit their kids? Perhaps they don't need to. I would suggest that contrary to what the NPR headline suggests, it's not the kids who are made dumber by being hit.
I've written about my feelings on corporal punishment before. ("Spare the child", July 2006) It was a pretty comprehensive statement on corporal punishment, so I don't think I need to say it all again. But I think the last few paragraphs bear repeating. My feelings haven't changed one bit, except that I believe them more strongly than ever.
"You know, I was spanked as a child, and I grew up to be perfectly healthy and have raised my kids just fine."
Did you? You think? You were, as a small child, routinely subjected to violence by someone probably five times your size so that you would be subject to their demands? As a result, you grew up, had some small children of your own, and then proceeded to beat them into submission as well?
We have a different definition of "perfectly healthy", you and I. We have a wildly different idea of what it means for an innocent child to be "just fine".
You may think that I believe that if you as a parent spank your children, I automatically believe that you are a bad parent. I don't, not necessarily and not without knowing what kind of parent you are as a whole. Nor do I think your children are necessarily going to grow up to be damaged.
But I do think you are wrong. And as much as you might feel sorry for my kid for having me as a father, I guarantee I feel more sorry for yours.
September 23, 2009
Things to do in Wylie TX on a Thursday night
September 24, 2009
Author appearance
The Authors Express Event
Sponsored by the Wylie and Sachse Public Libraries
Bart Peddicord Community Center
100 West Oak Street
Wylie TX 75098
The Authors Express features local authors at Barnes and Noble, Firewheel, Sachse, and Wylie from Saturday, September 19 through Monday, September 28.
Authors Express Kick-off at Barnes and Noble featuring Paranormal authors Maria Lima, Lorraine Heath, and Sandy Blair on Saturday, September 19 at 2:00pm.
Maria Lima, author of Matters of the Blood talks about her book at the Wylie City Hall on Monday, September 21 at 7:00pm.
William Manchee, author of the Tarizan series, will present a talk on Tuesday, September 22 at 7:00pm at the Sachse Public Library.
Robert Rummel-Hudson, author of Schuyler’s Monster, will talk about his experiences with his learning disabled child. Rummel-Hudson will speak on Thursday, September 24 at 7:00pm at the Wylie Community Center.
Frank Luksa, author of Cowboys Essential: Everything You Need to Know to Be a Real Fan will be at the Sachse Public Library on Thursday, September 24 at 7:00pm.
Bob Huffaker and Bill Mercer, were reporters at the Kennedy assassination. When the News Went Live describes their experiences. Join them at the Sachse Public Library on Monday, September 28 at 7:00pm.
The Authors Express is a partnership with Barnes and Noble, Firewheel, the Sachse Public Library, the Smith Public Library, the Friends of the Sachse Library and the Friends of the Smith Library.
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(And yes, Schuyler will be there.)
September 16, 2009
A Bad Word: UPDATE
First of all, Schuyler's ARD meeting went very well, as they usually do.
Well, okay, stop. Before I get to that "first of all", I should actually define what that means, for those of you who don't know. Here's how the Texas Education Agency's A Guide to the Admission, Review and Dismissal Process defines the ARD committee:
So yes, this meeting went well. Now that we're in Plano, ARD committee meetings usually run pretty smoothly. We all tend to be on the same page, after all, and the members of Schuyler's team seem to take us seriously and behave as if they are genuinely happy that we're as involved as we are. Our input seems to drive these meetings, which is as it should be, and yet I know better than to believe that's how most parents feel when they are meeting with their kid's IEP committee.
The issue of the three-year evaluation was only discussed in passing since we put it off until early next year. No one seemed to mind; I actually felt an almost palpable sense of relief in the room. In talking to Schuyler's teacher after the meeting, we learned a little bit more about the process. It looks like we do in fact have the option of choosing not to have this evaluation administered, and since she already qualifies for special education services, there doesn't appear to be anything she'd stand to lose by skipping it.
We're all going to follow up to find out if there are doors to services that might actually be opened by this test, but unless they include a free pony, I can't imagine why would would go through with it. The benefits (aside from possible additional federal reimbursements for the school district) seem intangible at this point. The consequences, on the other hand, seem all too real.
This is hard. Even if she never takes the test, it's still out there. The word is still there, and there's at least one person on Schuyler's team who seems eager to attach it to her. Not out of any malevolent intent, but because in her eyes, it's important knowledge, and knowledge is power.
Except to me, it isn't, not when this knowledge is gained through questionable means. And make no mistake. Assigning an IQ score to a non-verbal child is a subjective process at best. One commenter on my last post put it best:
I know that the lens of fatherhood is coloring my thoughts and judgments on this issue, and Julie's objectivity is equally suspect. But I asked myself a question, and in my answer to that question, I knew the right thing to do. My question was simply this. Which would I feel comfortable with as a mistake, one for which I might find myself apologizing to Schuyler one day? My decision to skip a test that might have possibly helped her out of my fear of stigmatization for her? Or a decision to allow someone to attach that awful word to her, despite being mindful of the risk, all on a stranger's assurance that doing so might ultimately benefitted her one day?
That was easy. We don't get many simple or straightforward questions where Schuyler's future is concerned, but that one was no challenge at all.
Well, okay, stop. Before I get to that "first of all", I should actually define what that means, for those of you who don't know. Here's how the Texas Education Agency's A Guide to the Admission, Review and Dismissal Process defines the ARD committee:
Admission, Review, and Dismissal (ARD) Committee: The admission, review, and dismissal (ARD) committee is composed of a student’s parent(s) and school personnel who are involved with the student. The ARD committee determines a student’s eligibility to receive special education services and develops the individualized education program (IEP) of the student.
So yes, this meeting went well. Now that we're in Plano, ARD committee meetings usually run pretty smoothly. We all tend to be on the same page, after all, and the members of Schuyler's team seem to take us seriously and behave as if they are genuinely happy that we're as involved as we are. Our input seems to drive these meetings, which is as it should be, and yet I know better than to believe that's how most parents feel when they are meeting with their kid's IEP committee.
The issue of the three-year evaluation was only discussed in passing since we put it off until early next year. No one seemed to mind; I actually felt an almost palpable sense of relief in the room. In talking to Schuyler's teacher after the meeting, we learned a little bit more about the process. It looks like we do in fact have the option of choosing not to have this evaluation administered, and since she already qualifies for special education services, there doesn't appear to be anything she'd stand to lose by skipping it.
We're all going to follow up to find out if there are doors to services that might actually be opened by this test, but unless they include a free pony, I can't imagine why would would go through with it. The benefits (aside from possible additional federal reimbursements for the school district) seem intangible at this point. The consequences, on the other hand, seem all too real.
This is hard. Even if she never takes the test, it's still out there. The word is still there, and there's at least one person on Schuyler's team who seems eager to attach it to her. Not out of any malevolent intent, but because in her eyes, it's important knowledge, and knowledge is power.
Except to me, it isn't, not when this knowledge is gained through questionable means. And make no mistake. Assigning an IQ score to a non-verbal child is a subjective process at best. One commenter on my last post put it best:
"To administer the test via AAC breaks the procedural integrity of the test. The norm table that the scores are based on are set using a sample of speaking children. […] The testing may bring some valuable insights to her reasoning, an error analysis might teach the team some things about deficits that may be addressed, but the number is not valid. Unfortunately, numerical scores are easier to read while you are skimming a report than the paragraph of disclaimers that dismiss that number as questionable."
I know that the lens of fatherhood is coloring my thoughts and judgments on this issue, and Julie's objectivity is equally suspect. But I asked myself a question, and in my answer to that question, I knew the right thing to do. My question was simply this. Which would I feel comfortable with as a mistake, one for which I might find myself apologizing to Schuyler one day? My decision to skip a test that might have possibly helped her out of my fear of stigmatization for her? Or a decision to allow someone to attach that awful word to her, despite being mindful of the risk, all on a stranger's assurance that doing so might ultimately benefitted her one day?
That was easy. We don't get many simple or straightforward questions where Schuyler's future is concerned, but that one was no challenge at all.
A Bad Word
There's a word that people in the disability community get very worked up about, and perhaps rightly so. It's a word packed with powder, ready to be ignited by a callous popular culture. And yet, I never joined in any of the "Spread the Word to End the Word" campaigns, nor did I join in the indignant angry protests at the use of this word in the movie Tropic Thunder. (The latter is primarily due to the fact I felt that in the particular case of Tropic Thunder, the word was being used in a way that aimed cutting humor not at those with disabilities, but at the shallow Hollywood entities who have used those with disabilities as vehicles to Oscar success.) I understand the outrage at the word, both in that case and in general, but in the same way that I've rejected the "universal" acceptance of People First Language, it's not a cause that resonates with me.
This is not to say that I'm never put off by that word. I find it offensive when it wanders too close to my weird and wonderful monster slayer. It is then that I rise up against it. Not when it is used casually or ignorantly, but rather when it arrives with full authority into my world. Insensitive teenagers and edgy comedians don't have power. Professionals do, at least as much as we allow them to have, which is plenty.
We had a meeting yesterday with Schuyler's teacher and the school's diagnostician in preparation for Schuyler's annual ARD meeting later this morning, where her IEP for the coming year will be finalized. With our permission, this diagnostician evaluated Schuyler three years ago, despite my reservations, because the school felt it was important to get a clear idea of where Schuyler stood cognitively.
This evaluation three years ago would determine her IQ (a frankly subjective process of which I am skeptical when it comes to assigning a score to a non-verbal six-year-old), and that IQ rating would put her into a cognitive range. My fear was that this numerical determination would place her within the range described by this word, this very loaded word that I felt had no place hanging around the neck of my determined and bright little girl.
Three years ago, we swallowed our hesitation, trusting in this new school and these new teachers for whom we had moved so willingly. The test was administered, a number was assigned that was high enough to dodge the word, and we went on with our lives.
Last week, we were informed that the diagnostician wants to re-evaluate Schuyler, and we set up yesterday's meeting to discuss that evaluation. And it was at this meeting that Julie and I were gently informed by the diagnostician that based on Schuyler's problems with abstract thinking and her significant delays in her academic and verbal skills, she feels confident that the new test score is almost certain to be significantly lower.
Low enough to assign that word to my little girl.
The diagnostician wants this word to become part of Schuyler's lexicon, not because she has a bad soul, but because she wants Schuyler to become eligible for additional services that this new assignment would bring. She wanted to do the test soon, but suggested that if we wanted, we could wait until after the holidays. "I just need to administer it by May," she told us.
I'm unconvinced. I'm unconvinced that there are services that Schuyler isn't receiving that this bad word would suddenly bring her. I'm unconvinced that these additional services would be enough to balance the feeling of wrongness at having this word, this fighting word of all fighting words, attached forever to Schuyler. It's not a word that can ever be taken away. It's a bell that can never be unrung.
But the bulk of my anxiety tonight comes from the fact that the diagnostician might be right. She's likely to be right, and in fighting this word, I may simply be living in denial, to no one's advantage.
Today's ARD meeting will be a hard one, and we will be listening very carefully to hear what the advantages to having this evaluation really are. More importantly, I want to know what happens if we ultimately decline (or refuse, I guess) to have the evaluation performed at all.
Don't be surprised if I elect not to share the final results of this evaluation, should it actually take place, and please don't feel insulted if we choose to keep it to ourselves. In this blog and even more so in my book, I haven't granted Schuyler a great deal of privacy, for which I don't feel guilt but do often feel trepidation.
But this is different. This is a word, a very bad word, that I will fight, rightly or wrongly, from ever being associated publicly with my sweet and ferocious and clever little girl.
This is not to say that I'm never put off by that word. I find it offensive when it wanders too close to my weird and wonderful monster slayer. It is then that I rise up against it. Not when it is used casually or ignorantly, but rather when it arrives with full authority into my world. Insensitive teenagers and edgy comedians don't have power. Professionals do, at least as much as we allow them to have, which is plenty.
We had a meeting yesterday with Schuyler's teacher and the school's diagnostician in preparation for Schuyler's annual ARD meeting later this morning, where her IEP for the coming year will be finalized. With our permission, this diagnostician evaluated Schuyler three years ago, despite my reservations, because the school felt it was important to get a clear idea of where Schuyler stood cognitively.
This evaluation three years ago would determine her IQ (a frankly subjective process of which I am skeptical when it comes to assigning a score to a non-verbal six-year-old), and that IQ rating would put her into a cognitive range. My fear was that this numerical determination would place her within the range described by this word, this very loaded word that I felt had no place hanging around the neck of my determined and bright little girl.
Three years ago, we swallowed our hesitation, trusting in this new school and these new teachers for whom we had moved so willingly. The test was administered, a number was assigned that was high enough to dodge the word, and we went on with our lives.
Last week, we were informed that the diagnostician wants to re-evaluate Schuyler, and we set up yesterday's meeting to discuss that evaluation. And it was at this meeting that Julie and I were gently informed by the diagnostician that based on Schuyler's problems with abstract thinking and her significant delays in her academic and verbal skills, she feels confident that the new test score is almost certain to be significantly lower.
Low enough to assign that word to my little girl.
The diagnostician wants this word to become part of Schuyler's lexicon, not because she has a bad soul, but because she wants Schuyler to become eligible for additional services that this new assignment would bring. She wanted to do the test soon, but suggested that if we wanted, we could wait until after the holidays. "I just need to administer it by May," she told us.
I'm unconvinced. I'm unconvinced that there are services that Schuyler isn't receiving that this bad word would suddenly bring her. I'm unconvinced that these additional services would be enough to balance the feeling of wrongness at having this word, this fighting word of all fighting words, attached forever to Schuyler. It's not a word that can ever be taken away. It's a bell that can never be unrung.
But the bulk of my anxiety tonight comes from the fact that the diagnostician might be right. She's likely to be right, and in fighting this word, I may simply be living in denial, to no one's advantage.
Today's ARD meeting will be a hard one, and we will be listening very carefully to hear what the advantages to having this evaluation really are. More importantly, I want to know what happens if we ultimately decline (or refuse, I guess) to have the evaluation performed at all.
Don't be surprised if I elect not to share the final results of this evaluation, should it actually take place, and please don't feel insulted if we choose to keep it to ourselves. In this blog and even more so in my book, I haven't granted Schuyler a great deal of privacy, for which I don't feel guilt but do often feel trepidation.
But this is different. This is a word, a very bad word, that I will fight, rightly or wrongly, from ever being associated publicly with my sweet and ferocious and clever little girl.
September 7, 2009
Here's how he's going to destroy your children, America.
Okay, I was wrong. The White House has released the text of President Obama's speech to schoolkids tomorrow, and the Conservatives were right. It's nothing less than a manifesto for turning your kids into little Socialist zombies. God, I only wish I'd listened to you. All I can say is that I am so, so sorry. America, I'll miss you. I should have listened. Oh God, why, WHY DIDN'T I LISTEN???
Here's the full text, so you can read for yourself the horrifying vision this man has for the future. Whatever you do, however, don't let your kids read it. Or any persons with sensitive constitutions, particularly pregnant women. Obama will turn your fetuses into Socialists, too. Don't think he won't do it.
---
Prepared Remarks of President Barack Obama
Back to School Event
Arlington, Virginia
September 8, 2009
The President: Hello everyone – how’s everybody doing today? I’m here with students at Wakefield High School in Arlington, Virginia. And we’ve got students tuning in from all across America, kindergarten through twelfth grade. I’m glad you all could join us today.
I know that for many of you, today is the first day of school. And for those of you in kindergarten, or starting middle or high school, it’s your first day in a new school, so it’s understandable if you’re a little nervous. I imagine there are some seniors out there who are feeling pretty good right now, with just one more year to go. And no matter what grade you’re in, some of you are probably wishing it were still summer, and you could’ve stayed in bed just a little longer this morning.
I know that feeling. When I was young, my family lived in Indonesia for a few years, and my mother didn’t have the money to send me where all the American kids went to school. So she decided to teach me extra lessons herself, Monday through Friday – at 4:30 in the morning.
Now I wasn’t too happy about getting up that early. A lot of times, I’d fall asleep right there at the kitchen table. But whenever I’d complain, my mother would just give me one of those looks and say, "This is no picnic for me either, buster."
So I know some of you are still adjusting to being back at school. But I’m here today because I have something important to discuss with you. I’m here because I want to talk with you about your education and what’s expected of all of you in this new school year.
Now I’ve given a lot of speeches about education. And I’ve talked a lot about responsibility.
I’ve talked about your teachers’ responsibility for inspiring you, and pushing you to learn.
I’ve talked about your parents’ responsibility for making sure you stay on track, and get your homework done, and don’t spend every waking hour in front of the TV or with that Xbox.
I’ve talked a lot about your government’s responsibility for setting high standards, supporting teachers and principals, and turning around schools that aren’t working where students aren’t getting the opportunities they deserve.
But at the end of the day, we can have the most dedicated teachers, the most supportive parents, and the best schools in the world – and none of it will matter unless all of you fulfill your responsibilities. Unless you show up to those schools; pay attention to those teachers; listen to your parents, grandparents and other adults; and put in the hard work it takes to succeed.
And that’s what I want to focus on today: the responsibility each of you has for your education. I want to start with the responsibility you have to yourself.
Every single one of you has something you’re good at. Every single one of you has something to offer. And you have a responsibility to yourself to discover what that is. That’s the opportunity an education can provide.
Maybe you could be a good writer – maybe even good enough to write a book or articles in a newspaper – but you might not know it until you write a paper for your English class. Maybe you could be an innovator or an inventor – maybe even good enough to come up with the next iPhone or a new medicine or vaccine – but you might not know it until you do a project for your science class. Maybe you could be a mayor or a Senator or a Supreme Court Justice, but you might not know that until you join student government or the debate team.
And no matter what you want to do with your life – I guarantee that you’ll need an education to do it. You want to be a doctor, or a teacher, or a police officer? You want to be a nurse or an architect, a lawyer or a member of our military? You’re going to need a good education for every single one of those careers. You can’t drop out of school and just drop into a good job. You’ve got to work for it and train for it and learn for it.
And this isn’t just important for your own life and your own future. What you make of your education will decide nothing less than the future of this country. What you’re learning in school today will determine whether we as a nation can meet our greatest challenges in the future.
You’ll need the knowledge and problem-solving skills you learn in science and math to cure diseases like cancer and AIDS, and to develop new energy technologies and protect our environment. You’ll need the insights and critical thinking skills you gain in history and social studies to fight poverty and homelessness, crime and discrimination, and make our nation more fair and more free. You’ll need the creativity and ingenuity you develop in all your classes to build new companies that will create new jobs and boost our economy.
We need every single one of you to develop your talents, skills and intellect so you can help solve our most difficult problems. If you don’t do that – if you quit on school – you’re not just quitting on yourself, you’re quitting on your country.
Now I know it’s not always easy to do well in school. I know a lot of you have challenges in your lives right now that can make it hard to focus on your schoolwork.
I get it. I know what that’s like. My father left my family when I was two years old, and I was raised by a single mother who struggled at times to pay the bills and wasn’t always able to give us things the other kids had. There were times when I missed having a father in my life. There were times when I was lonely and felt like I didn’t fit in.
So I wasn’t always as focused as I should have been. I did some things I’m not proud of, and got in more trouble than I should have. And my life could have easily taken a turn for the worse.
But I was fortunate. I got a lot of second chances and had the opportunity to go to college, and law school, and follow my dreams. My wife, our First Lady Michelle Obama, has a similar story. Neither of her parents had gone to college, and they didn’t have much. But they worked hard, and she worked hard, so that she could go to the best schools in this country.
Some of you might not have those advantages. Maybe you don’t have adults in your life who give you the support that you need. Maybe someone in your family has lost their job, and there’s not enough money to go around. Maybe you live in a neighborhood where you don’t feel safe, or have friends who are pressuring you to do things you know aren’t right.
But at the end of the day, the circumstances of your life – what you look like, where you come from, how much money you have, what you’ve got going on at home – that’s no excuse for neglecting your homework or having a bad attitude. That’s no excuse for talking back to your teacher, or cutting class, or dropping out of school. That’s no excuse for not trying.
Where you are right now doesn’t have to determine where you’ll end up. No one’s written your destiny for you. Here in America, you write your own destiny. You make your own future.
That’s what young people like you are doing every day, all across America.
Young people like Jazmin Perez, from Roma, Texas. Jazmin didn’t speak English when she first started school. Hardly anyone in her hometown went to college, and neither of her parents had gone either. But she worked hard, earned good grades, got a scholarship to Brown University, and is now in graduate school, studying public health, on her way to being Dr. Jazmin Perez.
I’m thinking about Andoni Schultz, from Los Altos, California, who’s fought brain cancer since he was three. He’s endured all sorts of treatments and surgeries, one of which affected his memory, so it took him much longer – hundreds of extra hours – to do his schoolwork. But he never fell behind, and he’s headed to college this fall.
And then there’s Shantell Steve, from my hometown of Chicago, Illinois. Even when bouncing from foster home to foster home in the toughest neighborhoods, she managed to get a job at a local health center; start a program to keep young people out of gangs; and she’s on track to graduate high school with honors and go on to college.
Jazmin, Andoni and Shantell aren’t any different from any of you. They faced challenges in their lives just like you do. But they refused to give up. They chose to take responsibility for their education and set goals for themselves. And I expect all of you to do the same.
That’s why today, I’m calling on each of you to set your own goals for your education – and to do everything you can to meet them. Your goal can be something as simple as doing all your homework, paying attention in class, or spending time each day reading a book. Maybe you’ll decide to get involved in an extracurricular activity, or volunteer in your community. Maybe you’ll decide to stand up for kids who are being teased or bullied because of who they are or how they look, because you believe, like I do, that all kids deserve a safe environment to study and learn. Maybe you’ll decide to take better care of yourself so you can be more ready to learn. And along those lines, I hope you’ll all wash your hands a lot, and stay home from school when you don’t feel well, so we can keep people from getting the flu this fall and winter.
Whatever you resolve to do, I want you to commit to it. I want you to really work at it.
I know that sometimes, you get the sense from TV that you can be rich and successful without any hard work -- that your ticket to success is through rapping or basketball or being a reality TV star, when chances are, you’re not going to be any of those things.
But the truth is, being successful is hard. You won’t love every subject you study. You won’t click with every teacher. Not every homework assignment will seem completely relevant to your life right this minute. And you won’t necessarily succeed at everything the first time you try.
That’s OK. Some of the most successful people in the world are the ones who’ve had the most failures. JK Rowling’s first Harry Potter book was rejected twelve times before it was finally published. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team, and he lost hundreds of games and missed thousands of shots during his career. But he once said, "I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."
These people succeeded because they understand that you can’t let your failures define you – you have to let them teach you. You have to let them show you what to do differently next time. If you get in trouble, that doesn’t mean you’re a troublemaker, it means you need to try harder to behave. If you get a bad grade, that doesn’t mean you’re stupid, it just means you need to spend more time studying.
No one’s born being good at things, you become good at things through hard work. You’re not a varsity athlete the first time you play a new sport. You don’t hit every note the first time you sing a song. You’ve got to practice. It’s the same with your schoolwork. You might have to do a math problem a few times before you get it right, or read something a few times before you understand it, or do a few drafts of a paper before it’s good enough to hand in.
Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. I do that every day. Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of strength. It shows you have the courage to admit when you don’t know something, and to learn something new. So find an adult you trust – a parent, grandparent or teacher; a coach or counselor – and ask them to help you stay on track to meet your goals.
And even when you’re struggling, even when you’re discouraged, and you feel like other people have given up on you – don’t ever give up on yourself. Because when you give up on yourself, you give up on your country.
The story of America isn’t about people who quit when things got tough. It’s about people who kept going, who tried harder, who loved their country too much to do anything less than their best.
It’s the story of students who sat where you sit 250 years ago, and went on to wage a revolution and found this nation. Students who sat where you sit 75 years ago who overcame a Depression and won a world war; who fought for civil rights and put a man on the moon. Students who sat where you sit 20 years ago who founded Google, Twitter and Facebook and changed the way we communicate with each other.
So today, I want to ask you, what’s your contribution going to be? What problems are you going to solve? What discoveries will you make? What will a president who comes here in twenty or fifty or one hundred years say about what all of you did for this country?
Your families, your teachers, and I are doing everything we can to make sure you have the education you need to answer these questions. I’m working hard to fix up your classrooms and get you the books, equipment and computers you need to learn. But you’ve got to do your part too. So I expect you to get serious this year. I expect you to put your best effort into everything you do. I expect great things from each of you. So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it.
Thank you, God bless you, and God bless America.
---
Prepared Remarks of President Barack Obama
Back to School Event
Arlington, Virginia
September 8, 2009
The President: Hello everyone – how’s everybody doing today? I’m here with students at Wakefield High School in Arlington, Virginia. And we’ve got students tuning in from all across America, kindergarten through twelfth grade. I’m glad you all could join us today.
I know that for many of you, today is the first day of school. And for those of you in kindergarten, or starting middle or high school, it’s your first day in a new school, so it’s understandable if you’re a little nervous. I imagine there are some seniors out there who are feeling pretty good right now, with just one more year to go. And no matter what grade you’re in, some of you are probably wishing it were still summer, and you could’ve stayed in bed just a little longer this morning.
I know that feeling. When I was young, my family lived in Indonesia for a few years, and my mother didn’t have the money to send me where all the American kids went to school. So she decided to teach me extra lessons herself, Monday through Friday – at 4:30 in the morning.
Now I wasn’t too happy about getting up that early. A lot of times, I’d fall asleep right there at the kitchen table. But whenever I’d complain, my mother would just give me one of those looks and say, "This is no picnic for me either, buster."
So I know some of you are still adjusting to being back at school. But I’m here today because I have something important to discuss with you. I’m here because I want to talk with you about your education and what’s expected of all of you in this new school year.
Now I’ve given a lot of speeches about education. And I’ve talked a lot about responsibility.
I’ve talked about your teachers’ responsibility for inspiring you, and pushing you to learn.
I’ve talked about your parents’ responsibility for making sure you stay on track, and get your homework done, and don’t spend every waking hour in front of the TV or with that Xbox.
I’ve talked a lot about your government’s responsibility for setting high standards, supporting teachers and principals, and turning around schools that aren’t working where students aren’t getting the opportunities they deserve.
But at the end of the day, we can have the most dedicated teachers, the most supportive parents, and the best schools in the world – and none of it will matter unless all of you fulfill your responsibilities. Unless you show up to those schools; pay attention to those teachers; listen to your parents, grandparents and other adults; and put in the hard work it takes to succeed.
And that’s what I want to focus on today: the responsibility each of you has for your education. I want to start with the responsibility you have to yourself.
Every single one of you has something you’re good at. Every single one of you has something to offer. And you have a responsibility to yourself to discover what that is. That’s the opportunity an education can provide.
Maybe you could be a good writer – maybe even good enough to write a book or articles in a newspaper – but you might not know it until you write a paper for your English class. Maybe you could be an innovator or an inventor – maybe even good enough to come up with the next iPhone or a new medicine or vaccine – but you might not know it until you do a project for your science class. Maybe you could be a mayor or a Senator or a Supreme Court Justice, but you might not know that until you join student government or the debate team.
And no matter what you want to do with your life – I guarantee that you’ll need an education to do it. You want to be a doctor, or a teacher, or a police officer? You want to be a nurse or an architect, a lawyer or a member of our military? You’re going to need a good education for every single one of those careers. You can’t drop out of school and just drop into a good job. You’ve got to work for it and train for it and learn for it.
And this isn’t just important for your own life and your own future. What you make of your education will decide nothing less than the future of this country. What you’re learning in school today will determine whether we as a nation can meet our greatest challenges in the future.
You’ll need the knowledge and problem-solving skills you learn in science and math to cure diseases like cancer and AIDS, and to develop new energy technologies and protect our environment. You’ll need the insights and critical thinking skills you gain in history and social studies to fight poverty and homelessness, crime and discrimination, and make our nation more fair and more free. You’ll need the creativity and ingenuity you develop in all your classes to build new companies that will create new jobs and boost our economy.
We need every single one of you to develop your talents, skills and intellect so you can help solve our most difficult problems. If you don’t do that – if you quit on school – you’re not just quitting on yourself, you’re quitting on your country.
Now I know it’s not always easy to do well in school. I know a lot of you have challenges in your lives right now that can make it hard to focus on your schoolwork.
I get it. I know what that’s like. My father left my family when I was two years old, and I was raised by a single mother who struggled at times to pay the bills and wasn’t always able to give us things the other kids had. There were times when I missed having a father in my life. There were times when I was lonely and felt like I didn’t fit in.
So I wasn’t always as focused as I should have been. I did some things I’m not proud of, and got in more trouble than I should have. And my life could have easily taken a turn for the worse.
But I was fortunate. I got a lot of second chances and had the opportunity to go to college, and law school, and follow my dreams. My wife, our First Lady Michelle Obama, has a similar story. Neither of her parents had gone to college, and they didn’t have much. But they worked hard, and she worked hard, so that she could go to the best schools in this country.
Some of you might not have those advantages. Maybe you don’t have adults in your life who give you the support that you need. Maybe someone in your family has lost their job, and there’s not enough money to go around. Maybe you live in a neighborhood where you don’t feel safe, or have friends who are pressuring you to do things you know aren’t right.
But at the end of the day, the circumstances of your life – what you look like, where you come from, how much money you have, what you’ve got going on at home – that’s no excuse for neglecting your homework or having a bad attitude. That’s no excuse for talking back to your teacher, or cutting class, or dropping out of school. That’s no excuse for not trying.
Where you are right now doesn’t have to determine where you’ll end up. No one’s written your destiny for you. Here in America, you write your own destiny. You make your own future.
That’s what young people like you are doing every day, all across America.
Young people like Jazmin Perez, from Roma, Texas. Jazmin didn’t speak English when she first started school. Hardly anyone in her hometown went to college, and neither of her parents had gone either. But she worked hard, earned good grades, got a scholarship to Brown University, and is now in graduate school, studying public health, on her way to being Dr. Jazmin Perez.
I’m thinking about Andoni Schultz, from Los Altos, California, who’s fought brain cancer since he was three. He’s endured all sorts of treatments and surgeries, one of which affected his memory, so it took him much longer – hundreds of extra hours – to do his schoolwork. But he never fell behind, and he’s headed to college this fall.
And then there’s Shantell Steve, from my hometown of Chicago, Illinois. Even when bouncing from foster home to foster home in the toughest neighborhoods, she managed to get a job at a local health center; start a program to keep young people out of gangs; and she’s on track to graduate high school with honors and go on to college.
Jazmin, Andoni and Shantell aren’t any different from any of you. They faced challenges in their lives just like you do. But they refused to give up. They chose to take responsibility for their education and set goals for themselves. And I expect all of you to do the same.
That’s why today, I’m calling on each of you to set your own goals for your education – and to do everything you can to meet them. Your goal can be something as simple as doing all your homework, paying attention in class, or spending time each day reading a book. Maybe you’ll decide to get involved in an extracurricular activity, or volunteer in your community. Maybe you’ll decide to stand up for kids who are being teased or bullied because of who they are or how they look, because you believe, like I do, that all kids deserve a safe environment to study and learn. Maybe you’ll decide to take better care of yourself so you can be more ready to learn. And along those lines, I hope you’ll all wash your hands a lot, and stay home from school when you don’t feel well, so we can keep people from getting the flu this fall and winter.
Whatever you resolve to do, I want you to commit to it. I want you to really work at it.
I know that sometimes, you get the sense from TV that you can be rich and successful without any hard work -- that your ticket to success is through rapping or basketball or being a reality TV star, when chances are, you’re not going to be any of those things.
But the truth is, being successful is hard. You won’t love every subject you study. You won’t click with every teacher. Not every homework assignment will seem completely relevant to your life right this minute. And you won’t necessarily succeed at everything the first time you try.
That’s OK. Some of the most successful people in the world are the ones who’ve had the most failures. JK Rowling’s first Harry Potter book was rejected twelve times before it was finally published. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team, and he lost hundreds of games and missed thousands of shots during his career. But he once said, "I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."
These people succeeded because they understand that you can’t let your failures define you – you have to let them teach you. You have to let them show you what to do differently next time. If you get in trouble, that doesn’t mean you’re a troublemaker, it means you need to try harder to behave. If you get a bad grade, that doesn’t mean you’re stupid, it just means you need to spend more time studying.
No one’s born being good at things, you become good at things through hard work. You’re not a varsity athlete the first time you play a new sport. You don’t hit every note the first time you sing a song. You’ve got to practice. It’s the same with your schoolwork. You might have to do a math problem a few times before you get it right, or read something a few times before you understand it, or do a few drafts of a paper before it’s good enough to hand in.
Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. I do that every day. Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of strength. It shows you have the courage to admit when you don’t know something, and to learn something new. So find an adult you trust – a parent, grandparent or teacher; a coach or counselor – and ask them to help you stay on track to meet your goals.
And even when you’re struggling, even when you’re discouraged, and you feel like other people have given up on you – don’t ever give up on yourself. Because when you give up on yourself, you give up on your country.
The story of America isn’t about people who quit when things got tough. It’s about people who kept going, who tried harder, who loved their country too much to do anything less than their best.
It’s the story of students who sat where you sit 250 years ago, and went on to wage a revolution and found this nation. Students who sat where you sit 75 years ago who overcame a Depression and won a world war; who fought for civil rights and put a man on the moon. Students who sat where you sit 20 years ago who founded Google, Twitter and Facebook and changed the way we communicate with each other.
So today, I want to ask you, what’s your contribution going to be? What problems are you going to solve? What discoveries will you make? What will a president who comes here in twenty or fifty or one hundred years say about what all of you did for this country?
Your families, your teachers, and I are doing everything we can to make sure you have the education you need to answer these questions. I’m working hard to fix up your classrooms and get you the books, equipment and computers you need to learn. But you’ve got to do your part too. So I expect you to get serious this year. I expect you to put your best effort into everything you do. I expect great things from each of you. So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it.
Thank you, God bless you, and God bless America.
September 5, 2009
Citizen Rob: UPDATE
(From the Dallas Morning News Plano Blog, emphasis theirs)
4:49 PM Fri, Sep 04, 2009Matthew Haag/ReporterI'm getting emails from schools and a call from a parent saying that Plano ISD has reversed its initial decision to not show any of President Barack Obama's planned speech to schoolchildren Tuesday. Plano ISD originally said the speech wouldn't be shown live and that a link to the speech would be added to Plano ISD's Web site.The speech still won't be shown live, but Plano ISD has let each school decide whether they want to show it a day or so later. For example, Schimelpfenig Middle School will show the speech Thursday between between 2:50 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. A parent whose daughter attends Plano East Senior High School said the school will air the speech after Tuesday, as well. And students who don't want to watch it must go to the school cafeteria and work on a brief assignment."It sounds like punishment to me," said the parent, who refused to give me her name.
I have a suggestion for that brief assignment:
"Research the actual definition of 'Socialism'. Compare and contrast what you discover with the inane bullshit your parents have told you about Socialism and how it applies to the president. Bonus points will be awarded for epiphanies regarding anything else your parents might have told you over the years."
September 4, 2009
2009 Texas Book Festival
Yesterday, former First Lady Laura Bush announced the author lineup for the 2009 Texas Book Festival, and lo and behold, I was on the list. I've actually known about this for a while, but was sworn to secrecy until yesterday's announcement. I wouldn't want to steal Mrs. Bush's thunder anyway. Her life can't be a picnic on the best of days.
(Because my narcissism is as vast as the sea, I actually spent yesterday evening looking for video of the announcement, just to see if she actually read my name off a list. I have Issues.)
Anyway, it's official now, and I'm happy as a clam (clams being notoriously jolly and well-adjusted mollusks). From the moment I found out that Schuyler's Monster was going to be published, I wanted to be a part of the Texas Book Festival. Back in my Austin days when I was employed at the big fancy Barnes & Noble Arboretum, I actually worked at one of the festivals, selling books. Coming back as an author feels like a real homecoming, and I'm thrilled that my book was selected this year.
(Congrats also to my friend, the very cool Gwen Zepeda, who will be presenting as both a children's author and novelist. Nobody likes a showoff.)
The schedule of events hasn't been released yet, and I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a secret, too. (I hope not, because here I go.) Apparently I am to appear on a panel with Rupert Isaacson, author of The Horse Boy: A Father's Quest to Heal His Son (about his efforts to reach his autistic son through equine therapy and Mongolian spiritualism) and Michael Greenberg, author of Hurry Down Sunshine: A Father's Story of Love and Madness (about his experience as a father with his teenage daughter's sudden manifestation of bipolar disorder). I've read Greenberg's book, which is really exceptional, and I'm working on the Isaacson now.
Both of their books have received a tremendous amount of critical acclaim and media attention, and I'm really honored and pleased to be able to join them as we talk about… whatever we talk about. As I said, the panel information is still being put together, but I'm going to go out on a limb and predict that we'll be discussing fatherhood and our relationships with the "different" child. Because otherwise, I might need to learn about horses in a hurry.
If you're in Austin at the end of October, I hope you'll attend. Schuyler will be there, and she's as jazzed as ever about her participation in all the book madness. Yesterday she was showing me a new book she'd gotten. She pointed to the cover of Judy Moody Gets Famous! and then pointed to herself.
"Like me!" she said.
Princess Protagonista. I've created a monster.
September 3, 2009
Citizen Rob
The Plano Independent School District initially planned to broadcast President Obama's September 8 address to the nation's school children, but after a much-publicized letter by a local conservative parent, the Plano ISD made the following policy decision:
Here's the thing. HE'S THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. Much like Ronald Reagan was the President of the United States when he spoke to the students of America, Barack Obama was elected by the majority of the citizens of this country. I think it's safe to assume that at least some of those citizens DON'T hate America. I can't tell you how many times I heard conservatives go on about respecting the office of the president during the years that said office was being held by George Bush. And all that talk? Complete and total lip service.
The simple truth is that for all our talk about patriotism and love of our country, Americans have completely lost their sense of community. You see it in the arguments against providing health care for every American, because it might have some small detrimental effect on some people's bottom line, and that, friends, is socialism, plain and simple. You see it in the "us versus them" in our political dialogue. You see it every time you hear someone describe an America that only reflects their ideology and rejects the beliefs of other citizens.
Where does your community end, America? Does it stop at the wall surrounding your gated neighborhood? The boundaries of your church, or your political party headquarters? Because if your community stops anywhere short of the edge of the map, then you are not a patriotic American. You are the problem.
I was especially annoyed to see the president of the Plano ISD Council of PTAs, Cara Mendelsohn, quoted by The Associated Press as saying that President Obama is "cutting out the parent" by sneakily addressing students while they are in school. This is the PTA President, being quoted in her capacity in that position. Does her conspiracy theory represent that of the Plano ISD PTA? Should it?
I was annoyed, but also intrigued. Oddly enough, the Plano PTA's site doesn't seem to prominently display information on how to actually join the PTA, but that's okay. I'm a smart guy. I can find it.
Upcoming Presidential AddressAs much water as I have carried for this school district and its commitment to education and to community, I can't tell you how disappointed I am. I've heard the arguments, about how that scary socialist Obama is going to hypnotize our precious children and read Karl Marx to them. I'm sure I'll read some more of those arguments in the comments of this blog.
The United States Department of Education sent a letter to all school districts on August 25 announcing a presidential address to school children on Tuesday, September 8. The topic of this public broadcast is the importance of education. To clarify questions and concerns about this presidential address, Plano ISD notes the following:
- This event is not a component of the Plano ISD curriculum and is therefore not a mandatory activity.
- Viewing the broadcast is not a planned classroom activity for September 8.
- Like many historical events, the address will be made available for students and teachers via the digital video library.
- The video will also be posted on this home page.
Here's the thing. HE'S THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. Much like Ronald Reagan was the President of the United States when he spoke to the students of America, Barack Obama was elected by the majority of the citizens of this country. I think it's safe to assume that at least some of those citizens DON'T hate America. I can't tell you how many times I heard conservatives go on about respecting the office of the president during the years that said office was being held by George Bush. And all that talk? Complete and total lip service.
The simple truth is that for all our talk about patriotism and love of our country, Americans have completely lost their sense of community. You see it in the arguments against providing health care for every American, because it might have some small detrimental effect on some people's bottom line, and that, friends, is socialism, plain and simple. You see it in the "us versus them" in our political dialogue. You see it every time you hear someone describe an America that only reflects their ideology and rejects the beliefs of other citizens.
Where does your community end, America? Does it stop at the wall surrounding your gated neighborhood? The boundaries of your church, or your political party headquarters? Because if your community stops anywhere short of the edge of the map, then you are not a patriotic American. You are the problem.
I was especially annoyed to see the president of the Plano ISD Council of PTAs, Cara Mendelsohn, quoted by The Associated Press as saying that President Obama is "cutting out the parent" by sneakily addressing students while they are in school. This is the PTA President, being quoted in her capacity in that position. Does her conspiracy theory represent that of the Plano ISD PTA? Should it?
I was annoyed, but also intrigued. Oddly enough, the Plano PTA's site doesn't seem to prominently display information on how to actually join the PTA, but that's okay. I'm a smart guy. I can find it.
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