"Overcoming life’s basic truth: Talent is universal, but opportunity is not." Click this link to read about Tanitoluwa Adewumi
Wikipedia defines a helicopter parent (also called a cosseting parent or simply a cosseter) as a parent who pays extremely close attention to a child’s or children’s experiences and problems, particularly at educational institutions. Paying close attention would be admirable if parents were insisting their children complete homework assignments, behave appropriately, and learn how to deal positively with failure and gracefully with success. But this isn’t what helicopter parents are doing. Instead, they’re insisting their children receive good grades without earning them and receive special accommodations without needing them.
The quality, nostalgic tone, and important social message are why I am reposting this post from another blog.
I’m a joker, I’m a smoker
I’m a midnight toker
“The Joker,” Steve Miller Band
I’m mixing weed with wine
“Walk It Back,” The National
The universe occasionally can be quite trippy.
Over coffee I was telling a friend about Don Nelson’s recent admission about what he has been doing lately: “I’ve been smoking some pot.”
Then, I realized the coffee shop was wafting over their music system Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker.” I sang quietly a bit of the lyrics because this song was ever-present during my adolescence spent in the 1970s.
“Man,” I said, joking a bit, “I should have been smoking pot when I was listening to this stuff in high school. I really wasted an opportunity.”
Here’s the irony: It was during high school that I switched to contact lenses from my glasses, but these were some heavy-duty hard lenses of the time. As a…
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I suppose I was in the second grade when the fable was read to me, but even at that age, the fable made me aware that children can have great power if they are honest, and equally important, I was provided with the insight that adults, especially important and powerful adults, are willing to go along with something preposterous because they are afraid to be the “only one” to stand up for a truth—especially if they had been outspoken in supporting something very questionable.
(Click on the title to read the entire post.) Unlike the South, racial biases of the white residents of Harrisburg where hushed; in polite society, such things were not discussed. The community in the North in which I was raised reflected comedian and activist Dick Gregory’s characterization: “In the South, they don’t mind how close I get, so long as I don’t get too big. In the North, they don’t mind how big I get, so long as I don’t get too close.”
(Click on the title to read the complete post) My first weeks as a teacher were desperate times, despite the fact that I had been trained to teach the very students sitting in front of me. This is not atypical due to Education’s failure to follow the models provided by other professions where newbies learn their way around the block as clerks and interns before being set free to practice their professions. Fortunately, I was saved by a demanding principal and a compassionate and knowledgeable Science Department Chair. Survival, as so often happens with emerging teachers, is more often a matter of good fortune than systemic support. I had been lucky, and thanks to these two great educators, I was surviving, but I was not thriving, and in my view, neither were my students!
An argument between a Pro-Choicer and a Pro-Lifer inevitably results in, at a minimum, frustration and no resolution. In the extreme, it can result in murder. Perhaps the difficulty in finding resolution is because there isn't a continuum that stretches between Pro-Life and Pro-Choice; rather, those positions are at the poles of two different continua, one of which exists between Pro-Choice and No-Choice, and the other exists between Pro-Life and Pragmatism.