So after my last post, I thought we might need to lighten the mood a bit, yes?

You may remember that I tend to gather together some kids during their lunch period. They do little chores for me, read, chitchat, do homework, whatever. They're grateful for a quiet, cool place to hang out and I get some things done, so it's a win-win situation.

I had quite a lot to do during my lunch period the other day, and while I thought about closing my room, I had closed the room the day before and felt badly doing it two days in a row, so I let my usual gang--Drew, Caroline, Jack, and a few newcomers--join me.

Now, I had some things for them to do, and usually, in the interests of inquiry and student-centered learning and what have you, I simply set them some tasks and allow them to divide the tasks the way they like. I sat at my desk grading papers, which I desperately needed to do.

Caroline was in her element and immediately began issuing orders. Jack, of course, did exactly as he was told. Drew messed around for a while before eventually taking part. Ida, Caroline's friend, argued with her for a few minutes over the best way to accomplish the tasks and then tried to get everyone else to agree with her.

"But I've done this before," Caroline said with her now-trademark flip of her hair. "I know how to do it."

"It doesn't matter," Ida retorted. "We could try it this way and just see if it's faster. I think it would be."

"Well, you do it your way and I'll do it mine," Caroline said.

The two girls resolved to each do it her own way. But Caroline got the boys to follow her, and within a few minutes, Ida dropped her agenda and did it Caroline's way.

It was interesting for me to just watch this exchange. It reminded me that kids usually work things out on their own, or at least that they can do that, without adults' help more often than not. It made me glad that I have such willing helpers. And it made me wonder how Caroline developed such a strong personality. I was sort of jealous.

Stop whining about your oversized classes and overcrowded buildings! NYC has some serious issues. That's why we're getting proactive and starting the fight against bedbugs right away. After all, those 500 school aides Mayor-for-life Bloomberg just fired are gonna have to sleep somewhere, and public schools, or at least schoolyards, are pretty much all over the city.

The city's also investing in other important commodities, like ravioli. To assure that there's money enough to support these new ventures, Mayor Bloomberg is cutting 1.5% from the education budget.

Thank goodness New Yorkers had the wisdom to elect a financial expert to guide us through these troubled economic times. I have absolute confidence that Mayor Bloomberg will continue to prioritize just as he's done for the last eight years.

Doubtless after he re-revises the term limit laws, he and his priorities will be with us for many years to come.

You may remember my post about Lena, the girl who claimed to not like anything in an interview with a classmate. I haven't posted about Lena in a while because I've been concerned about revealing too much about her, but since I choose to keep myself, my school, my ___location, etc. private, no one should really be able to identify Lena anyway--which, of course, is not her real name.

I wish I could report that Lena is doing better, but she isn't. In fact, things have only gotten worse. Lena is cutting school almost every day, and when she does come, she comes late, sometimes as late as sixth or seventh period. And when she comes late, she often doesn't come to class--she makes an appearance in the office to get marked present, goes to the bathroom, and stays there reading or doing homework. Then she'll go around to her teachers at the end of the day, hand in her work, and go home.

You could argue that this is, in some ways, an improvement over what class cutters usually do (which is nothing at best and major troublemaking at worst), but there's no bright side with Lena right now. I met with her parents last week and it was the most depressing parent meeting I've ever had, hands down. Lena is very troubled right now. She refuses to be helped--not by her family, not by her friends, not by school or medical personnel. She either withdraws tightly into herself or lashes out in bizarre rage against whoever is available.

My heart breaks for Lena and her family, who have no idea what to do. I'm starting to wonder if Lena needs to be hospitalized, if she might hurt herself or someone else. She's a bright girl with many lovely qualities, but something has taken her over, and it's doing a lot of damage, whatever it is.

I wish I could help, but I'm afraid I've already done what I could, which is to write up a guidance referral, keep my door open for her, and hope for the best. It's terrible what kids have to deal with sometimes. But I have eightysome other students to worry about, too, and Lena is being watched by people who are in a better position to give her the help she really needs. Somehow, though, none of that really makes me feel any better about it.

Joel Klein doesn't need to look too far when he reminisces about the good old days. The national papers are full of inspirational tips and tidbits for inclusion in the next UFT contract.

In Barrow County, Georgia, teacher Ashley Payne has been fired. Ms. Payne maintained a Facebook page, and it contained pictures of her personally holding old demon alcohol in her pedagogical hand. Some virtuous parent found that offensive and complained to the school board.

Ms. Payne does not include her students among her Facebook friends. Nonetheless, if it's on the internet, people can see it. Perhaps her local school board was concerned that students might locate the pictures and be influenced to take a drink. It's conceivable, in fact, that Barrow County is a dry county, like Mayberry. However, Ms. Payne does not remotely resemble Otis the town drunk.

It's unfortunate for her that Otis doesn't run the local school board. From what I've observed, his judgment is much clearer than that of the real people who do.

To be fair, Ms. Payne went beyond simply drinking alcohol. Apparently, she also used the word "bitch" on her page. Naturally, I was shocked and stunned. But I had to ask myself--how did these pure and chaste schoolboard members even know what the word meant? Had they used it themselves? Had their virgin ears been sullied by the foul vocabulary item?

If that's the case, shouldn't they have recused themselves, or issued immediate resignations? Shouldn't they have followed their convictions about the nature of evil and committed ritual suicide, lemming-style, off the nearest cliff or tall building? Why should only Ms. Payne be targeted?

That's a pretty easy question--because teachers are always targeted for this sort of abuse. That's why teachers need tenure. And that's why Ms. Payne is suing her school district. I hope she not only gets her job back, but demands they pay dearly for their idiotic indulgence in self-righteous sanctimony.

Gee willikers. Sarah Palin has banned all cell phones and recording devices from her book tour.

by resident contest meister Schoolgal

We asked you, our loyal readers, to come up with a caption for the picture at left. We've received queries from far and wide. To preserve the integrity of our process, we've kept the meticulously tabulated results from our 300-member team of judges, all of whom are pledged to absolute secrecy, in a hermetically sealed container just off the coast of Mandanga, a little known island just south of Patapita.

Sparing no expense, we sent our team out in a rowboat to retrieve them without disturbing the local ecology. Here are the eagerly awaited results.

Congrats to Pogue!! His entry gets first prize--a chance at early retirement!!!

"Oh, Mikey, here I am. Signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours."

Please email NYCEducator your name and address for that LOTTO ticket!!

Honorable Mention goes to Mr. A. Talk, for his contribution:

"Is that a payoff in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Thanks to all who participated!

The Daily News is outraged because NY State ranks last in passing GED rates. And for good reason. What sort of high school dropout are we aiming for? Shouldn't our high school dropouts do better than, say, dropouts from Mississippi? After all, when Bill Clinton ran for President, he was able to proudly declare that his state ranked only 49th. Yet we don't have that luxury.

Perhaps we need to develop a better class of dropout. The kind of dropout who can pass that GED exam. What we need to do is target our high-achieving students to start dropping out of school. They'll pass that test in a flash, and they won't even have to study for it.

So I'm asking you, New Yorkers, to make that sacrifice for your beloved state. If you're in high school, drop out. If you have kids in high school, urge them to drop out. Sure, they won't get into those hoity-toity colleges you had your eye on. But what's more important--the individual or the state? This is a sure-fire solution to the problem, and it's time we put an end to it once and for all.

The problem is particularly egregious in the city, so this is where we need to concentrate our efforts. To placate his good buddies at the Daily News editorial board, Mayor-for-life Bloomberg must focus his efforts. Perhaps it's time he got his buddy in billionairism, Bill Gates, to surreptitiously back another ad campaign. "Keep dropping out, New York." Perhaps he could even open a non-union, sweatshop-style charter GED training center for dropouts. He could pay the kids who pass the tests, just like he does in regular schools.

And anyone who disagrees--all I can say is you're clearly opposed to truth, justice, and the American Way.

“How old are you?”

This is a question that many of us get from students, and it’s a tricky one to answer. Some of us would rather not reveal our age, either because we’re old enough to be our students’ evolutionary ancestors or because we’re young enough to be asked for hall passes.

Personally, my favorite answer to this question has always been, “Old enough to know better.” When pressed, I usually say, “Older than you and younger than your parents.” Which is more or less true. Pretty soon I’ll be old enough to be the parent of my students, but not quite just yet. And the kids tend to give up at that point, because they know I’m not going to get more specific, and I have confirmed their suspicion that I’m relatively young and hip.

I used to hate being mistaken for being younger than I am, but I’m getting to an age at which I can appreciate my fresh, youthful appearance. Still, it’s a tough thing for younger teachers when SSAs tap us on the shoulders and holler, “Yo, get to class!” (True story.)

I feel old, though. It doesn’t take long, especially this day and age when the entertainment universe has become so fractured, to get out of the loop on what “the kids” are watching, listening to, or playing. I struggle with that. And the trends change so quickly. The rapper that was so cool last year is rarely that cool this year. Sneakers and clothing go in and out and in again.

I think the moment I became old was on the first day of school this year. I noticed many of my young ladies coming into school in plaid flannel shirts. And I could remember getting rid of my own plaid flannel shirts after grunge died in the mid-90s, thinking, “These will NEVER come back into fashion!” And when I saw those shirts, I knew it: I was becoming an old person.

Why don't you give up that stressful teaching gig and get a job arbitrating teacher dismissals? If they catch you, just say you had droopy eyes. And so what if you ruled in the DoE's favor in almost each and every case?

Principal: Mister Schwartz, here at Unconscionably Overcrowded High School we provide bell to bell instruction!

Mister Schwartz: Forgive me, Mr. Principal. I suffer from tinnitus. I hear bells all day long.

Principal: Mister Schwartz, I came in today to discuss rubrics with you. What are your feelings on how we can use rubrics to help clarify our goals?

Mister Schwartz: Well, I have a Rubrics Cube up in my attic, but I haven't used it in years. I'm pretty sure I have a pet rock up there too, but I can't be sure. I'll check and get back to you.

Principal: We're going to be utilizing rubrics in conjunction with portfolios.

Mister Schwartz: Well, I've got quite a bit in Fidelity, but I also like Vanguard. I think mutual funds are the way to go unless you're a really large investor. I hope you found this helpful, Mr. Principal, and I'm delighted to have the opportunity to discuss these things with you. Please come around anytime.

I said, a while back here, that I would share some advice on parent-teacher conferences. Well, it's that time of year. You've probably had your conferences already or will have them soon, and conferences are certainly forefront in my mind right now. Here we go.

First, read A Shrewdness of Apes' tips on parent-teacher conferences. She covers a lot of ground there, so much that I have fairly little to add. But I'll try to add in my own experiences.

If you are a middle or high school teacher, look into doubling up in a classroom with a grade partner. You probably teach some or all of the same kids, and you can save the parents a little time and get them in and out more quickly. This is also a good strategy if you know you have some prickly, controversial parents--they are less likely to get demanding or argumentative if there is a third party in the room.

Have as much evidence of students' learning prepared as you can. Collect notebooks or journals, provide portfolios or some recent work, refresh your bulletin boards. Let parents see what their kids have been doing (or perhaps not doing). They appreciate having some tangible proof of what's happening and what's not.

I'm not a big fan of having kids participate in the conferences, but you often don't have any choice. When this happens, I like letting the kid start the conference--"What do you think about your grade? What do you think you're doing well? What do you think you need to improve?" You will be surprised by how honest and reflective they are when cornered by both their teacher and their parent.

Try to comment on "the whole child"--if there's any negative news to report, it will likely go down a little smoother with the parents if you can say something that is true and positive. Comment on his or her helpfulness to peers, respect and politeness to adults, something along those lines. Just like teachers and children, parents don't like to feel like they're doing everything wrong. You don't necessarily have to lead with something good, particularly if you have limited time, but you should try to mention something good at some point.

Make sure you have a written record of every parent who shows. Often your school will have a sign-in sheet, but if they don't provide you with one, provide one yourself. Document, document, document! And if you make follow-up calls to parents you don't see, and you can't get a hold of them, document that too.

If you have extras of recent handouts from the school, bulletins, book orders, whatever, put them out for parents to see. This is a good time to make sure everyone is up to date about events in the classroom and the wider school community. It's also something for parents to read while they're waiting.

Be a good neighbor if you find yourself not very busy--if your neighbor down the hall has a line a mile long, help to police this line and keep everyone calm and amused.

Finally, plan a nice easy day for yourself for the day after parent-teacher conferences. You will be tired. Don't launch any crazy projects or anything like that the day afterwards. You won't feel like it.

I wonder if readers could offer any advice for this prospective teacher. If so, please put it in the comments section.

Dear NYC Educator,

I am an avid reader of your blog and find it very useful. You definitely are a seasoned educator, so I figured I would go to you for some advice. I recently graduated with a Masters Degree in Art and Art Education and have my certification to teach the Visual Arts from Grades K-12.

Since my graduation I have been met with a number of heart breaking disappointments: I lost the chance at a job at a local public elementary school because of the hiring freeze, another shot at a nonprofit (program wasn't running after all), lost another job to a fellow classmate, and gave up on a substitute art teaching job at another public elementary school because I felt that the classroom management techniques I have been taught did not work on this group of students (the school happens to have the most incidents of improper touching in the borough, which would explain the fight that broke out in my class just as we were finishing up...my first class of the day by the way).

So here I am, no job, no prospects. I am scared that next year I'll be in the same situation. It seems that no matter how many jobs I apply to, I don't get a response or the group of students are the kind who could benefit from an experienced teacher. I have wanted to be an art teacher since I was a kid, so I am definitely not giving up. However, I don't know what to do to make myself more desirable...I'll be competing with another slew of students from my graduate school next year! I can't even find a classroom management course to take in a local university?!?

Please, any advice you can spare would be extremely appreciated. Please.

Download the Ramones Greatest Hits for three bucks.

Oh yeah, because of stuff like this. To be fair, they do issue refunds when you find dead frogs in your salad.

Another mayoral election has come and gone, and Mayor-for-life Bloomberg has once again prevailed, buying the election fair and square. Mayor Mike pulled a hundred million bucks out of his sizable pockets, blanketed the metropolitan area with vomit-inducing commercials and persuaded 5% more voters than Thompson did. To accomplish that, he spent 14 times as much as Thompson.

In my discussions with UFT reps, they explained it was prudent to withhold an endorsement. Why? First of all, a Thompson endorsement would mean an immediate halt to contract negotiations. The incredible corruption evident in that assertion, in my view, ought to have been enough to pull out all the stops against this character. More importantly, depending on whom you asked, the UFT endorsement would only be able to turn 3 to 5% of the voters. Well, if you buy that, we'd have won.

Now if you're one of the folks who'd made the awful decision to sit this one out, and you're reading this, you might say, "But NYC Educator, didn't Thompson say publicly we couldn't afford to give UFT members the 4 and 4 in the pattern?" Now I admit that's a good point. Why would anyone vote for a mayor who'd deny us a relatively decent pattern, after so many mayors held us to crap ones?

I'd have to respond, "True, but he only said that after the UFT publicly declined to endorse him. He'd never have made that statement if we'd done the right thing."

For a beleaguered union, timidity is not an option. We just learned that the hard way.

Yet another time.

If you've been following my blog, you know that the Specialized High School Admissions Test has been a pet peeve of mine from the blog's earliest days. It bothers me that lazy, half-interested kids who happen to be good at taking tests get invited to the specialized schools while some kids who bust their butts and love learning don't because they don't ace the test. It bothers me that some kids feel that schools which are very excellent and rigorous are "second best" because they don't carry the "specialized" label. I have no idea what kind of message it sends to our kids that "one day, one test, one score" determines four years of one's life. College doesn't work that way. Jobs don't work that way. Yet here we are, deciding four very crucial, formative years on the basis of one test.

Well, here it goes again. This is my last chance to post here at NYC Educator before the test (this weekend!), so I'm going to use the rather bigger stage this blog gives me to talk about this year's gang of darlings and the SHSAT.

As usual, a few of my kids will probably get into a specialized school. I'm usually pretty good, though not perfect, at predicting which ones. As usual, a few more of them will probably come very close. Of those, one or two will have total meltdowns over it. Some of them won't get in and won't much care.

I want to tell them that it doesn't matter as much as they think it does, while simultaneously telling them to do their very best on the test. I can tell them about friends of mine who went to unfamous high schools and colleges in the middle of nowhere and are now doctors, lawyers, and nuclear submarine commanders. (I really do have a friend who commands a nuclear submarine. I can't think of a job that's much more kick-ass than that.) I can tell them about friends who went to very prestigious, exclusive colleges and now make even less money than I do (yes, it's possible). So much of life is a crapshoot. So much of what happens is unexpected. Someday, I want to tell them, you will meet people who have never heard of Stuyvesant High School and wouldn't care about it if they had. Someday you will meet people who didn't have to "apply" to high school; in fact, most people you will meet didn't have to. It's so hard to understand that when you're thirteen and so much is being made of this test and the high school process, and I don't even know if I should tell them that.

(Maybe not until after the test.)

So I'll remind you all, if you teach eighth grade or if you know eighth graders, be extra nice to them for the next few days. Maybe for the next ten days or so, because the TACHS is next weekend. If you teach them, give them the weekend off from homework. Give them some nice, quiet, easy seatwork on Monday after you give them a chance to vent. They're still children. And then tell them, nicely, helpfully, in your own way, that one day, one test, and one score does not, in the grand scheme of things, mean so very much.

by special guest contest-meister Schoolgal

With the contents of our new contract being held in a secret vault below UFT headquarters until the mayor's coronation, I found the photo at left quite telling.

So NYC Educator and I came up with a fun idea. We would like the readers to create a caption for this photo. The winner will receive a possible early retirement incentive in the form of a NY Lottery ticket.

Good luck!!!

Important note from contest-meister Schoolgal:
DUE TO THE RESULTS OF THE MAYORAL ELECTION, THIS CONTEST WILL END AT MIDNIGHT, FRIDAY THE 13TH.

I know that many of my colleagues and readers have had (or currently have) the problem of parents who are, shall we say, too involved in the education of their children, and by this mean involved to the actual detriment of their children. I have not faced this problem to a great degree until this academic year, but I thought I would share a few anecdotes on what seems to be becoming a bigger and bigger issue in education.

One of my darlings recently gave a substitute teacher quite the hard time when I was out for some professional development. I try to be the kind of teacher who shows subs support and appreciation, so when I reported this incident to Little Darling's mother, she explained that her child is the kind of child who needs to "express himself" and "explain himself" frequently. I, as his teacher, do not give him this opportunity frequently enough.

"Well," I said to Little Darling's mother, "you're right. When he is not doing what he is supposed to be doing, I don't really want an explanation or an 'expression' or an excuse. I want him to stop doing the wrong thing and start doing the right thing." This, apparently, is quite the imposition on Little Darling's "self-expression."

Another parent complained that I gave her snowflake a zero for a homework assignment that a.) I didn't give Snowflake a zero on and b.) was not done properly and therefore received only partial credit. Snowflake neglected to explain either of these things to her mother despite the fact that I had explained both of these things to Snowflake when I checked her homework.

Yet another parent was displeased that Precious did not receive credit for a homework assignment that she didn't put her name on. Precious is in MIDDLE SCHOOL, mind you. I think that middle school is a good time to expect children to be able to write their names on things, and also to learn that they are about to go to high school where most teachers teach 100+ children and don't have the time or the inclination for handwriting analysis.

Perhaps I'm dating myself, but when I was not doing what I was supposed to be doing at school, I got in trouble. Never once would my parents have suggested that the teacher was somehow in the wrong or a poor teacher. It was my job to get along with the teacher and please him/her, not the other way around. And, looking back on my education, I can see that my parents were right. Maybe once was the teacher truly not very good. Most of the time, I was simply being inattentive or lazy, or, later in life, I had simply reached the end of my intellectual capacity for a subject (by this I mean math).

And misbehavior? Forget it. That was on me. My parents would have laughed loud and long if I claimed that a teacher wasn't allowing me to "express myself." They would have invited me to express myself to my heart's desire in my bedroom, away from the ears of any adult who would have to be subjected to my whining.

At least these little snowflakes' parents are involved in their education, I suppose.

Maybe you're in the wrong line of work. CNN states that high school teachers have one of the most stressful and poorly paid jobs anywhere. That's certainly not encouraging. It makes you think you aren't half as smart as you thought you were.

Personally, I don't see it that way. Of course the job is stressful. There are constant demands from administration, both on-site and from the anti-union, anti-labor psychos at Tweed. And dealing with the demands of 170 teenagers on a daily basis can be harrowing. But those of us who've toughed out the first few years have found ways--we've learned from experience.

Don't believe the teacher-bashers who say we don't get better after 3 years. They just don't want to pay you. They want disposable McTeachers who will never mature enough to stand up for themselves or the kids they teach. It's fairly easy for them to sit around in air-conditioned offices and criticize us. In fact, that's because they themselves have a very low-stress occupation. They can't do what we do.

In fact, it's fairly easy for me to sit behind this laptop and condemn them. I could do a much more thorough job of it if I weren't hampered with having to show up to work each day and help kids. Now I don't mind doing that, and with 25 years, I'm confident I'm the best teacher I've ever been. I've dealt with hundreds of situations and I've learned from results, both good and bad.

In both lessons and social situations, I've got a wealth of experience to draw from. It's sad that our titular leaders would just as soon toss me into the Absent Teacher Reserve as look at me, and that their protégés, like Michelle Rhee, will disregard convention and break laws just to get rid of teachers like me.

Make no mistake that given his druthers, Chancellor Klein would do exactly the same thing. We always hope that age brings wisdom. It's pathetic that our top-dog educational leaders would not only ignore that, but do everything they can to deprive our children of it--just to save a few bucks.

And that's what stresses me out.

Mayor-for-life Michael Bloomberg sees privatization as the key to all our woes. After all, look how well it works in the health insurance field. Look what it's done for our national economy. It's kind of like watching the national GOP. In boom times, they say, we need to cut taxes for the wealthy. When times get tough, we need to cut taxes for the wealthy. When we're at war, we need to cut taxes for the wealthy.

So when Mayor-for-life Mike sees troubled public schools, he says we need more charters. When he sees good or improving public schools, he says we need more charters. When he sees inferior charters, he says we need more charters. You can't help but admire the man's consistency.

And Mayor Mike is putting your money where his mouth is, creating tens of thousands more charter seats in his never-ending administration. Your kids in public schools without seats can squeeze in and stand. They may as well get used to it, since their futures entail no unions, fewer benefits, longer hours, and being fired at will by the likes of Eva Moskowitz.

He's now spent more on his campaign than any other American has spent on a political campaign, and you must admit, the man's buying his way in fair and square. Every time the truth gets too loud, Mayor-for-life Bloomberg runs a commercial that's even louder, and everything is beautiful again.

There's always drama in the air when you're hanging around with a few dozen teenagers.  In my beginning ESL class I have a young man with a fairly wicked sense of humor, but alas, insufficient vocabulary to express it.  The class is in a semicircle.  I like it that way, but I didn't move the seats out of rows until I was confident I knew everyone's name.

One young woman keeps moving her chair back to the front of the room, where it was before I rearranged everything.  She likes it there.  And the boy who's always smiling keeps following her.  I can't say as I blame him.  But he's got a tendency to speak to her in their native language, strictly verboten in my class, and when I catch him I exile him back to his regular seat.

"But she sit over there," he protests.

I decide to pull out an old chestnut.  "Well, if she jumps off the Empire State Building, are you going to jump off too?"

"Yes," he says, nodding his head without hesitation.  "I jump."

Then he wanders back to his seat, but doesn't sit.  He stands, looking out the trailer window.

"Are you waiting for your girlfriend to walk by?"  I ask him.

"No," he says.  "I looking for new one."

And he stands there looking out the window.  Being the nasty teacher I am, I call on him to answer questions.

He gets each one right, and I let him keep standing there.

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes is the touching, sad, beautiful story of a young Japanese girl who was dying of leukemia caused by the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima. She begins making paper cranes to pass her time in the hospital and hopes to make 1000, but she is only able to complete six hundred or so. Her classmates from school take over and finish the 1000, and the cranes are buried with her. The crane is a symbol of peace and healing not only in Japanese culture, but this simple and lovely image has spread to our own. If you go to St. Paul's Chapel in the Financial District, for example, you will see long chains of paper cranes sent there by Japanese schoolchildren for the rescue workers in the days after 9/11. People leave paper cranes in the Hiroshima Peace Park to this day to express hope for a world without nuclear weapons.

The book about Sadako is a popular one in elementary schools, not only for its historic value, but also to help children cope with the death of friends and classmates. Many children are familiar with it. My own students certainly are. I have a copy of it in my classroom library, as do most teachers in my school.

I mentioned that we'd be launching a new unit dealing with memoir writing soon. One of my students asked, "Oh, are we going to read about Sadako and the thousand paper planes?"

Perhaps, in her version of the book, Sadako was the class clown?

Sorry, I couldn't resist. Tomorrow schools are serving Rachel Ray's chicken taco recipe, which has to beat the hell out of those hockey-puck burgers and plastic pizza we usually see. I'm going to give it a try. I always wondered what the stuff on Food Network tasted like, and I'm hoping it's not all appearances.

Feel free to come back here tomorrow and report your experiences, fellow intrepid taco-eaters.

Ms. Warthergle was very religious. She did not, of course, like Mexicans. They were always going on about the Blessed Virgin, and that just wasn't the way she approached religion. But as an assistant principal, she always kept an eye on her teachers.

Ms. Mudd was having a bad year. She'd been sick various times. This caused her to be absent, once for weeks at a time. The worst thing, though, was that her one-year-old granddaughter had just died. Ms. Mudd had come to work, but was not quite herself today.

Naturally, Ms Warthergle was moved by her plight. As a religious person, there was only one thing she could do. She prayed. She exhorted Ms. Mudd to pray with her. Ms. Mudd was unwilling at first, but eventually relented. After a few minutes of praying, she actually felt better. Ms. Warthergle was delighted to have demonstrated the power of prayer. Ms. Mudd felt less terrible than she'd been feeling. It was a grand success.

Then, Ms. Warthergle handed Ms. Mudd her U rating for the year. Prayer was one thing, but dilly-dallying was quite another.

Serena is just about everything you could want in a student: she's bright, hardworking, pleasant, respectful, helpful. She comes from a wonderful family that supports her in every way. Most importantly, she's not one to complain gratuitously. So when she told me recently that she had a problem, I was inclined to take her seriously.

Serena explained to me that one of the other teachers at my school is exhibiting favoritism. She didn't say who it was and I didn't ask; we just had a chat about how we could address this. I suggested that the teacher might be paying more attention to a single student because the student is struggling and needs more help or attention right now, or that the teacher simply doesn't realize that he or she is doing it and may not have any particular feeling one way or the other. As is always the case if kids come to me about another teacher, I don't ever speculate negatively on the other teacher's motives, speech, or actions, and encourage the kid to address it directly with that teacher. Most of the people I work with are pretty reasonable and helpful, and if a kid brings up something one-on-one in a respectful way, they'll listen.

After a little brainstorming on this, Serena seemed to feel better and changed the subject. But the chat gave me something to think (and blog) about. I tend to think about some students more than others, for a variety of reasons. I worry about the kids who struggle; I thank the Lord or whoever for the ones who make me laugh and help me out; I stress about the kids who are defiant and lazy and uncooperative. There are certainly those kids who tend to fade into the background, and I've been trying to make a more conscious effort to pay particular attention to those kids this year. You know the ones: Neither especially sweet nor overtly disrespectful, not especially high-achieving but more or less competent. I've made a mental list of a half-dozen or so of these kids and checked their grades more often than others and made overtures towards conferencing with them more often, thinking about book recommendations for them, etc. Those kids get lost and I don't want them to feel lost.

And it's hard not to have favorites. The few kids I've blogged about here do tend to have special places in my heart for various reasons, and there are kids I taught several years ago that I still miss and think of often. I think that's just human nature. The key, I think, for us is to not play favorites, to consciously work against exhibiting or acting on those biases.

That brings me back to Serena's concern. It's possible that it's nothing, that it's a coincidence, or that the teacher has good reason to pay extra attention to this child. I don't know. But it's a good "check yourself" nonetheless--for me, for all of you, and maybe even for that individual teacher.

One of my pet trends is making a comeback in my building, at least according to one administrator I've spoken with. That, of course, is the favored method of addressing the kids. Apparently, if teenagers aren't listening to you, it's because you, the teacher, failed to use the proper language.

If you paleolithic pedagogues would just discard that archaic and useless "ladies and gentlemen," and begin addressing them as "each, every, and all," your young charges will immediately cease misbehaving. Also, they will do their homework religiously, stop texting during the "Do Now," and get perfect scores on standardized tests.

So first thing when you get into work today, get with the program.



This should solve the problem immediately. Is your administration on your back for not getting high enough scores on a standardized test? Are you blaming it on things like poverty, homelessness, drug addiction, prostitution, or the kid being at Rikers? How is that going to earn merit pay for your principal? How is that going to improve the statistics of Mayor-for-life Bloomberg?

"I want each of you to pass this test."



"I want every one of you to pass this test."




"I want all of you to pass this test."

For goodness sake, get started immediately. And if the administration gives you a hard time, doling out meaningless instructions that add nothing but clutter, don't hesitate to address the issue.

by special guest blogger Michael Fiorillo

So Arne Duncan, whose qualifications to be Secretary of Education include a brief stint as "CEO" of the public schools in Chicago, President Obama's pick-up basketball pal, and part-time tutor at his mommy's after-school program, is now going after the ed programs at the colleges and universities. He is insisting that they be part of the same test mania and junk data pipeline that the public schools are being forced to swallow. In the perverse cause-and-effect logic of corporate education deform, the teacher training programs are to be held responsible for the "outcomes" of their graduates, just as public school teachers are held responsible for the "outcomes" of students whose infinite needs are largely ignored by the politicians and corporate overseers who dominate our looted, outsourced society. Exactly how many degrees of separation are we talking about here? No matter, it's the teacher's fault.

He was also there to plug the special program Teacher's College has opportunistically set up to train teachers at publicly-funded private school chains such as KIPP and Green Dot, which are being pushed as the replacement for traditional neighborhood public schools.

I came to teaching late, after knocking around the world of work and performing a wide variety of jobs. I also read and studied eclectically. I feel that all of these factors have made me a better teacher. It also meant that I had a fairly wide range of life experience and content knowledge before I went to get my certification. I always saw the certification classes as little more than a means to the end of working in the classroom.

Education programs are mostly bad, and for many reasons. There's the old saw about TC and Columbia, and how "120th Street is the widest street in the world." When I went to grad school in TESOL at NYU, it was appalling, but not for the reasons given by most ed deformers. It was awful largely because, of the twelve classes I took, all but two were taught by part-time TAs who ranged from OK to dreadful. And this was grad school! God only knows what it's like for the undergrads. It was a clear indication of the university's disrespect for teaching, and it was obvious that the ed school was little more than a profit center for them.

Why was this? Sorry, ed deformers, you can't blame this one on the union. The program was academically impoverished, despite its exorbitant cost, because of the revenue-intensifying labor relations policies of the university, which valued the hiring of cheap part-timers instead of full-time tenured faculty. It's also testimony to the fact that, as I've written elsewhere, NYU is a real estate holding and development company with a higher ed subsidiary.

So, yes, education programs are pretty bad. But that's not what Duncan's offensive against them is about. No, this is about the fact that the college education programs, despite their many shortcomings, are still holdouts, where the values of teaching humanistically and teaching the whole child still control some physical and ideological space. The ed schools have not yet joined the New World Order in education, have not fully gotten with the program or embraced the market, and must be brought on line and on message. Money aside, this is also a reason why senior teachers are targeted, since they are less likely to be entranced by the Magic of the Marketplace in education.

Sure, corporate education deform is about current and future profits/ compensation, but its also about control and the social engineering that education inevitably involves. The schools are there to replicate the kind of society the overclass wants, one filled with alienation, tedium, stress, insecurity, overwork, and under perpetual monitoring and surveillance by its managers. This is also the society where they reap most of the benefits. The kids are being socialized and prepped to endure the same conditions their parents face, if they're lucky enough to have a job, and the schools and teachers are on a forced march to take them there.

By the way, Arne, while we're busy blaming schools and teachers for the Decline and Fall of Western Civilization, where's the outrage at the MBA programs, which have trained the looters and sociopaths who have cannibalized the US economy and brought it to its knees? But then again, as I look offstage while you do your cheap soft shoe routine, I see many of the same people suiting up in the wings to cannibalize the public schools.

Mayoral candidate Bill Thompson just publicly announced that teachers shouldn't get the pattern raise other unions got. Why the hell shouldn't he say that? After all, the UFT, in its convoluted dance with Bloomberg, has declined to endorse our buddy Bill. Thompson had been supportive of UFT goals, and UFT's leadership left him swinging in the wind.

DC37 endorsed Thompson, and Mayor-for-life Bloomberg retaliated by firing 500 DC37 members. The UFT says if it were to endorse Thompson, contract talks would cease.

It's remarkable that our union leaders can speak openly of such blatant corruption and not call it for what it is. Who is this man, who will not even negotiate with teachers if they dare to support his opponent? Who is this man, who rattles on about jobs and endeavors to leave 500 low-paid working people jobless in the worst economic downturn in my living memory?

The UFT took zeroes during the dot-com boom, based on a fraudulent election that sent DC37's leaders to the hoosegow. Personally, I don't care who's mayor come contract time. For 25 years, I've watched the city impose the pattern on us, and in 2005, it got away with murder, extracting a mountain of givebacks for a compensation increase that didn't even meet cost of living.

The city can't find the money?

Let them sell Manhattan Island.

It was a crazy day for Miss Eyre, and she just couldn't have lunch with the kiddies. There was too much going on, and she needed some peace and quiet and time to grade a handful of papers. But, as it happened, she also needed to swipe some milk from the cafeteria, so she popped in and saw the kiddies.


Clustered around one of the tables were a few girls, doodling and reading. One of the girls in the circle was Caroline. And next to her was sweet Jack.

She watched the group out of the corner of her eye as she squeezed into the lunch line to grab her milk. Jack was making puppy-dog eyes at Caroline, who was pretending not to notice. But he was in the circle, the only boy there.

Miss Eyre wanted badly to give him a wink or a thumbs-up, but didn't want to embarrass him, so she only took her milk and made a hasty exit. She wondered if Caroline could challenge Jack to do better in school. She wondered if they were talking about their love of Linkin Park.

The cop was talking to the supervisor about school security when he mentioned an important issue in the pizzeria.

"I got the chicken parm slice. I always get the chicken parm slice. And the guy charged me three bucks!"

I was just walking by. "Three bucks doesn't sound too bad for a chicken parm slice," I said.

"Yeah, but he usually charges me a dollar for it," said the cop.

"What did you do?" asked the supervisor.

"I rousted the place," the cop said. "I chased every damn kid out of that pizzeria and back to school."

It was another fun-filled lunchtime in Miss Eyre's classroom. There were more helpers and hangers-on than usual, because it was damp and chilly outside and no one wanted to go out and play handball or shoot hoops.

Mayor-for-life Bloomberg has economic knowledge that we lowly plebians lack. That's why he overturned term limits so he could continue his reign. When money is scarce, it's important to get your financial house in order, and who knows better how to do that than the richest man in New York City?

So naturally, the mayor-for-life needs to find ways to save. One way is by firing a bunch of school aides. As Mayor-for-life Bloomberg loves to point out in his multi-million dollar ad campaigns, it's all about jobs. That's why he's eliminating so many of them for working people in the midst of the worst economic downturn in most of our living memories. By putting hundreds of New Yorkers out of work with no health benefits, the mayor can save about 13 million bucks.

What will he do with that money? Well, the New York Post reports he will be paying custodians 50,000 bucks each to lock and unlock playgrounds. That exceeds the $20,000 salaries of DoE aides by a considerable sum. In fact, the total expenditure for all this locking and unlocking will be 14 million, one million more than the salaries of the school aides. In Mayor Bloomberg's New York, it's all about jobs, and keeping them out of the hands of those who most need them.

I'd suggest the city hire the aides back and get them to lock and unlock the gates, but I'm not an indispensable expert like the mayor. I'm sure his system is much better planned, and there are many tangible benefits of having hundreds of low-paid working people out of work. Doubtless, it makes a lot of sense to pay 50,000 bucks to make custodians lock and unlock doors, rather than give jobs to hundreds of people. I'm simply not sophisticated enough to figure out why.

Perhaps we'll see this explained in the next campaign commercial.

Don't let those zombies get you down. Get one of these 275-meal emergency kits from Costco and board up those windows.

Mayor-for-life Bloomberg has declared issues like overcrowding off-limits to parents. These issues take years to resolve, and he ought to know--he's spent years without resolving them. And in November, he may get four more years to not resolve them.

Mayor Mike then corrects our crude preconceptions about the English language by pointing out that people who complain about overcrowding, actually, are not parents. They're "community activists." Wait until our kids find out we aren't parents. There'll be orphans lined up from here to the Brooklyn Bridge.

Mayor Bloomberg points out the problems with referendums. How can you get anything done if those nasty people out there get to vote on it? How would you get another Yankee Stadium built with all those "community activists" complaining that those short people, the ones who aren't their children, don't have room in their schools?

And Mayor-for-life Bloomberg is a guy willing to put his considerable money where his equally considerable mouth is. That's why he personally arranged to overturn the term limits referendum that city voters had twice affirmed. That's why he can openly tell parents who want better conditions for their children that they aren't parents.

Why any parent or child would want to vote for a guy like that is simply beyond my meager comprehension. It just goes to show ya--watching too much TV is bad for you, especially when the richest man in New York City is buying all the air time.

Lena is a very quiet girl. And when I say quiet, I mean too quiet. Like something isn't right.

I've been suspecting for a couple of weeks that Lena is too quiet. I taught her sister a couple of years ago, and her sister is very quiet. And fragile. I got the counseling team involved with Lena's sister, and I'm pretty close to putting them on Lena's case too. I've seen Lena come to school more than once in clothes that aren't clean and don't fit, and she sometimes seems like she hasn't washed in a while. She's pleasant enough if you talk to her, or if you smile at her, she'll smile back. But other than that, her affect is flat. She does her work but avoids writing anything personal, and says maybe five words a day.

Today my students were supposed to interview each other for a writing piece they're working on. As you can imagine, most thirteen-year-olds love this assignment. The only thing they love more than talking is talking about themselves. They wrote their questions and immediately commenced their Barbara Walters acts. I'd asked the students to focus their questions on a single topic, an activity or sport or subject that their partner enjoyed. The students began to interrogate each other about basketball, karate, video games, salsa dance, whatever. All of them except Lena, that is.

Caroline, the girl I'd asked to be Lena's partner, raised her hand shortly after the interviews started. "Miss Eyre," she said, "Lena doesn't like anything."

"What do you mean?" I asked Lena.

"She doesn't like anything," Caroline repeated.

"I was asking Lena," I said, looking at Lena and giving her an encouraging smile. "Lena, what do you mean, you don't like anything?"

She shrugged and said nothing.

I looked at Caroline. "Did you ask her?"

"Yeah," Caroline said. "She doesn't play any sports. She doesn't have any hobbies. She doesn't like school."

"Lena, you're a very good student," I said. "What's your best subject?"

"Math," she whispered.

"Why don't you ask her about math?" I said.

Caroline shrugged. "You want me to ask you about math?" she said to Lena.

Lena shrugged.

On Tuesdays and Fridays I pick up my daughter at school, take her to the diner, and then it's karate class, where she gets in touch with her inner dangerous woman. At the diner, I usually help her with her homework.

In my sordid past, before I discovered the wonders of ESL, I was an English teacher. I like English. I like reading, and I can't stop myself from writing. Still, some cruel English teacher gave my poor little girl The Most Tedious Assignment of All Time. My daughter didn't seem to mind. She's a math person anyway, so perhaps she expects English to be tedious.

She had an essay, and her assignment was basically to interpret and rewrite every single solitary sentence of it into four boxes, each representing a paragraph. The topic was light pollution ("LP" to my texting-frenzied child). Apparently there is too much light. The solution is to use less of it. Turn off your lights when you aren't using them. This concept was explained in five or six hundred words, and I got to examine each and every one.

If you want kids to hate reading, you can't do much better than this. I remember years of sitting through insipid English classes where my hippie teachers played Neil Young songs (you have to respect a man with a voice like that who makes a living singing) and asked us about the symbolism of the Little Cowgirl in the Sand. I was reading real books at the time, a lot of them, and would have loved to discuss literature.

Still, we never did anything quite as tedious as that exercise my little girl did in the diner. For her, everything is copasetic as long as she's eating chicken noodle soup. But I kind of dread going to open school and meeting the teacher who made her do that.

Maybe I'll wear dark glasses.

Jack is quickly establishing himself in my heart as one of my favorite students this year. I know we're not supposed to play favorites, and I also know we're kidding ourselves if we don't admit that there are some students we just like better than others. Jack is one of those this year. He's adorable--a word I don't often apply to thirteen-year-old boys, but he is--kind, funny, and helpful. But he's also struggling with school quite a bit. He's perhaps not a great student. The other day, I got a hint of why he might not be doing well in his other classes (not that he's rocking the world in mine, but he's passing, at least).

Former part-time UFT President Randi Weingarten has taken yet another bold stand. After having opposed the use of test scores to determine tenure, after having supported legislation that prohibited doing so, Ms. Weingarten has clarified her position. Apparently the use of test scores to determine tenure is not a bad thing after all.

Never mind that standardized tests are only given at certain levels in certain disciplines. That doesn't matter. If kids who don't speak English can't pass the English Regents, it's clearly the fault of the teacher. Why the hell can't that lazy-ass teacher make sure they know the language flawlessly and write perfect essays? After all, he's had five months with that kid, and Chinese is fundamentally no different from English anyway.

The problem, it appears, is not the idea of using "value-added" measures to determine tenure (and never mind that a few short months ago Ms. Weingarten opposed the process). The problem, of course, is that we cannot use such a program under the current mayor. Doubtless the next mayor will be better. Doubtless the next mayor will offer us a fabulous contract. Let's take a look at history.

When I began, we worked under Mayor Koch. He was terrible for teachers, of course. He was followed by Mayor Dinkins, whom we supported wholeheartedly. Except Mayor Dinkins did not turn out to be good for teachers, so we declined to support him for re-election. Mayor Giuliani defeated him by a small margin. Everyone knows Mayor Giuliani was no good for teachers. He was followed by Mayor-for-life Bloomberg, who is no good for teachers.

So, in 25 years, we haven't had a mayor who's good for teachers. The UFT has thus far declined to endorse Bill Thompson, who's been supportive of the UFT. Therefore, despite over a quarter-century of history suggesting otherwise, and despite the reluctance of the union to support a decent candidate, Ms. Weingarten thinks this plan will work under some yet-to-be-determined mayor in the distant future, perhaps after Mayor-for-life Bloomberg anoints a successor.

There must be something special in that DC air Ms. Weingarten is breathing nowadays. This morning I wish I had a little of whatever it is, just to help get through the day.

We've got a new president, and who knows what's possible? Still, UFT chapter leader John Elfrank-Dana is not optimistic.

It's two weeks since I identified and reported a kid who somehow missed school for five years. Yesterday I followed up with the guidance counselor, who informed me that Dad, the same Dad who allowed his kid to miss five years of school, has failed to come and meet with him. You can imagine how shocked I must have been.

The counselor kind of threw his hands up. I told him we can't do that. The father belongs in jail, and in New York State, parents who don't show up for meetings at school are guilty of educational neglect. This is a little tidbit I've had on the tip of my tongue for years, and I've never had opportunity to roll it out. But this, this is the time.

For this dad, I'd be happy to turn him in, or press charges, or whatever it entails. In his son's class, I have one girl who sneaks up to the blackboard and draws odd pictures. My lost student has taken to copying these picures into his notebook. His primary classroom activity is copying things from the board, and this is a clear indication of just how much reflection he devotes to this process.

He painstakingly writes a heading on each and every paper he begins. It looks really good, even though he writes words like "name" in his own language. He's a nice kid, but I have the feeling I'm not going to get him where he needs to be anytime soon. Whatever he needs, it's probably beyond my meager abilities.

I'm going to start following up daily with the counselor. I'm fairly certain he'll get things moving quickly. For one thing, he's got 8,000 other problems to worry about, as "Children First" entails placing impossible caseloads on each and every counselor. If he wants to make a dent in those 8,000 problems, he'll first have to get rid of me.

I'm pretty sure I can give him ample motivation to do so.

So the copier over at the Morton School has been having some..."issues." Some of these issues are fictional while others are true. Teachers have been getting copies made any way they can, and, when that's not possible, kids are doing an awful lot of copying. One teacher I'll call Mr. Mel has gone so far as to tell the kids that he won't give them a test until the copier is fixed. I'm not sure what Mr. Mel is trying to accomplish by sending that message, but it certainly has had the effect of making all the students intrigued about the photocopying process. They like that it seems like a deep, dark secret.

What do you do when your supervisor calls you a pain in the ass? Call the union? The police? Perhaps you could start a harassment suit or something.

But if you're me, you can't really argue the point. I'm certainly a pain in the ass. My parents made me aware of it when I was around 3, and people have been telling me the same thing pretty much ever since.

I'm teaching newcomers beginning English now, and I favor a colorful text with humorous, conversation-provoking illustrations and clever, funny conversations. "Why don't you use more technology?" asked my well-meaning supervisor.

"We don't have technology in the trailer," I pointed out. The supervisor lamented the TV and VCR that was left there, alas stolen by some desperate collector of outdated electronic equipment.

"You could always get an overhead projector," the supervisor generously offered.

"I hate pushing things into the trailer," I said. "You have to get people to unlock the door and let you in the building afterward, and you have to go 15 minutes early if you don't want to get stuck in the crowd."

"Maybe we could leave one there."

"Someone would steal it," I answered.

"Maybe not. It's really easy to print transparencies."

"Why do I want to print transparencies when I'm relying on the pictures in this book? I like this book." I proceeded to show why.

"Well, transparencies would be a different way of viewing those pictures."

"Why does it need to be different?"

We went around in circles for a while, accomplishing nothing, until the supervisor deemed me a pain in the ass and tossed me out. That's OK.

I've been thrown out of worse places.

NOTE: The introduction to this post was accidentally chopped off when I initially posted it. The corrected version appears below.

A student of mine I'll call Jack, the Linkin Park fan previously mentioned here, is in my extended day group. I'm a freak among teachers in that I sort of like extended day and I really like the group I have. They're good kids who by some bizarre accident were identified for extra help they actually need, so working with them is personally and professionally satisfying.

Some of the kids in my group all started reading the same book at the same time, and they were working on "deep questioning" the book today. "Deep questioning," for those of you who may not know what I mean, is asking questions about a text that use inference, prediction, wondering, etc.; that is, not questions that can be answered just by rereading the text.

So Jack is in a group with a boy I'll call Danny and two other kids, and Danny had the task of leading the "deep questioning" for his group today. Danny was struggling to come up with a second deep question after a good start (I had encouraged the kids to try to come up with at least three). It's a fairly heavy book inasmuch as several of the main characters die. "So," I said to the group, "remember that 'What if?' is sometimes a good way to start a deep question. For example, 'What if the boy's mother dies?'"

"That's not a 'What if?' question, Miss Eyre," Jack interjected. "Of course she's going to die. Everyone dies."

I was taken aback by Jack's literal interpretation of my question. He was not kidding--he was deadly (ha!) serious. It was one of those supremely uncomfortable moments we sometimes experience as teachers in which we're not sure whether to take it seriously, laugh, cry, whatever.
After what felt like an extremely long pause, I cleared my throat and said, "Well, Jack, of course you're right, but I think what Danny is trying to imagine is, 'What if the mother dies before the end of this story?'"

Poor Danny, also completely caught off guard, nodded meekly.

"Oh, okay," Jack said, rather casually, and went back to writing his own questions.

Still, it's not often I'm reminded of my own mortality mid-extended-day. Faculty conferences are much more likely to make me look forward to my own impending death.

Charter school proponents are graciously accepting Mayor Bloomberg's offer of more schools. However, they want more money as well. As public schoolchildren are herded like sheep into ancient crumbling buildings, there needs to be more for the chosen few Mayor-for-life Bloomberg has seen fit to grace with decent conditions.

After all, when you have the rich backing you, there's pretty much no limit what you can do. Gates and Broad lay down a little seed money, and leave the punters to support whatever the program is pretty much indefinitely.

Because here's the thing--when you systematically starve public schools of resources, when you crowd them several times beyond capacity, when you deny them technology, space, and even classroom furniture, the Eva Moskowitz redecorating plan starts to look pretty good.

You say to yourself, "Gee, those schools that service 2% of our population really look good." And then you wonder why the hell your kid can't study in a clean, freshly painted classroom. Then you start to think, "Gee, maybe it's a good idea to make teachers work like chattel, give them crappy benefits, and no retirement plan. Let's put more money into painting those rooms."

The only problem is this--your kids are the ones who will grow up into jobs just like the one you created for the Moskowitz teachers. They'll grow up to be chattel too. And if you think the likes of Mayor-for-life Bloomberg is ever going to fix things for the 98% of the kids who don't get those privileged conditions, well, you just don't understand how the mind of a union-buster works.

If you, like me, are amazed by the armies of teenagers who flock to buy 300 dollar black parkas simply so they can look like everyone else, if you too wonder why they need to wear them during classes no matter how hot it gets, you'll be amused by the parody line of clothing at right.

North Face is not, apparently, and is threatening young Jimmy Winkelmann with a lawsuit. They've yet to follow through, but they'd certainly look ridiculous attacking their target audience.

Winkelmann generously offered to sell his trademark for a million bucks. However, North Face has thus far failed to purchase the good name of South Butt, and he's withdrawn the offer. In a way, I don't blame them--if they'd bought it, who know what winds would've blown from the east and west, or how expensive it would've been to make them stop?

We'll keep you posted on further developments.

Full disclosure: NYC Educator bought two North Face jackets at Macy's last year, on clearance for 99 bucks each. Neither of them was black, and his teenage daughter objected strenuously to no avail.

Why is Bloomberg going after Thompson so hard? Conventional wisdom is he’s way ahead, unapproachable, undefeatable. If that’s the case, wouldn’t it make sense to run a happy, positive campaign?

Shouldn’t we be watching him kiss babies and smile?

Is is possible that Mayor Mike is running scared? Does he know something we don’t? Or is he just on the attack for the heck of it?

When does a blatant opportunist do anything whatsoever for the heck of it?