A few days ago, the postman delivered my quarterly College of Saint Elizabeth Alumna magazine. On the cover were members of the class of '13 surrounding the outgoing President, Sister Francis Raftery. The banner read, "Sister Francis Raftery Tribute Edition. As I thumbed through the pages, as I do every time it comes, I looked quickly to see if anyone from the class of 1975 posted any news or in a picture with other alumni. I then went back and slowly read through the magazine. I remember Sister Francis teaching elementary education majors. Walking by her classroom, I'd hear her passion for her teaching and for her students. During basketball season, a daily prayer was chanted for the Seton Hall University basketball team to reach the NIT championship game. Her brother, Bill, was the coach. I often wax sentimentally about my days at St. E's but it was more so this time.
It was troubled times during my tenure at the college. We were still winding our way through the Vietnam War, a recession had hit the economy, Watergate was raging, and the College of St. Elizabeth let the first of the Protestants in the door in 1971. A professor remarked the class of 1975 was the first serious class since World War II. We were more interested in politics and the state of the nation than we were in swallowing goldfish. We were a challenging lot and we were divided.
Two things that made it difficult for the college was the drop in enrollment (which is why Protestants were let in) and the College President. Quite frankly, the Sisters of Charity didn't know what to do with us, nor we with them. It was so easy to pick us out. Unbeknownst to the "others" (the code name given to us Protestant gals) classes started with a prayer. Everyone stood up, Sister began the prayer, people around us recited and we stood dumbfounded. Those of us with a public school pedigree couldn't wrap our heads around prayer and chalk. Sister Helen Marie Morris, in the midst of beseeching God for guidance, looked at us with fire and we looked around for the marshmallows.
Along with the new class of freshman came a new College President, Sister Elizabeth, who did not share her predecessor's view on staff. Sister Hildegard looked past the most obvious thing at a Catholic institution, religion, and hired an immensely talented and turned out popular professor, Dr. Lowenstein. That's right, not Lowenstine which would be German, Lowenstein, which was Jewish. Almost everyone wanted to be in her English literature class. We got up at 3:00 a.m. just to be the first in line to register for it. Groans were heard wafting out of the Administration building when her classes closed. Solemn faces walked across the campus, up to dorm rooms where an array of vodka and gin bottles came out of hiding places to ease the tragedy. On the first day of class, Dr. Lowenstein glided up to the lectern, cast her eyes upon us and declared, "Congratulations, you are the winners. Now let's get to work." We felt blessed, but the blessing didn't last.
Dr. Lowenstein was up for tenure in the spring and we were excited for her. But not so fast as Sister Elizabeth had a surprise. Dr. Lowenstein was not to return in the fall. We could not have "those kind" on the faculty. The campus erupted, we walked out of classes, we demanded a meeting with the President and we got one. But to no avail. What shocked many of us was the silence of many of our classmates. It destroyed our class. Two years later at graduation, when the main speaker asked us to stand up and show what we thought of the job Sister Elizabeth was doing as President, many of us sat on our hands. Gasps came from our parents and families, people on the dais turned white. Those who stood turned to the rest of us and with pleading faces waved their hands for us to get up. Slowly, ever so slowly we did and just stood silent.
It seems a bit amiss these memories come to the fore while I swell with a bit of pride for being a College of St. Elizabeth alumni. That pride comes with having learned so much at the feet of women like Sister Jackie Burns. A fabulous History professor, she demanded and demanded and demanded of us and we thrived on it. And she taught us pride. One day as we were winding up a junior seminar class we were moaning AGAIN about the fact there were no men on campus. Offhandedly, someone asked what's the point of an all woman's college. All at once, Sister Jackie slammed her hand on the table. What she said came out like a torrent. She took a deep look into each of our eyes and said because we were to become leaders. On a coed campus, if there is a class president, it would be a man, editor of the newspaper...man, sports leaders...men....valedictorian...man. At the College of St. Elizabeth, all leadership and all leaders are women. Gaining those skills, building that self reliance, possessing a first rate education, knowing who we are and where we want to go...only that comes at an all woman's college. We were silent as we walked out. All these years later, I appreciate all that I learned and all that I was given and no truer words were ever spoken.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Summer Time
It's hard to believe we are almost one month out of school. A great deal was packed into the first 26 days, babysitting the most precious 10 month grandson, Preston and spending time in the Ozarks with Mr. Schmidt. Although my days were filled with playing, feeding, diaper changing, napping with one adorable little man on my lap; hiking in State Parks, exploring caves and enjoying the company of Mr. Schmidt, one thing remained constant...I can not get school out of my head.
I have to simply say, it was one hell of a year. We started a new program and while I believe it met the needs of students, in that without it, they would have been shipped to more restrictive schools, it took its toll on me...more than I expected.
In the world of students with emotional and behavioral disorders, they can be divided into the
Es and the Bs. Es are those who are drowning in the quicksand of self loathing and worthlessness. The world taught them it has nothing to offer them and they have nothing to offer it. They come to school reciting the daily mantra of "I don't care. It doesn't matter. Who gives a damn." For some, even the effort to shower eludes them, Frebreeze is the cologne of choice. That aroma together with stale cigarette smoke and car grease can clear the classroom in under 10 seconds.
The Bs are the in your face type. The guys tend to be loud, easily pick a fight with the teacher, usually over word choice such as, "It's been five minutes, you should probably get started on the assignment. It is due at the end of the hour." The student's face darkens, paper may or may not fly off the desk and the verbal barrage begins..."What, you expect me to do this? I don't get it...this doesn't make any sense...I don't feel like it...this is baby work...what's the point." As he spews forth, he looks for buy in from others. At the beginning of the year, he gets it. If we do our job right, by October, he doesn't. That, however, does not stop him, he continues on to June. It's just nice to know he sings solo, there is no choir. The gals, who are few, possess fine tuned sarcasm and the ability to hurl entire bags of makeup across the room. The makeup flies when asked either, (a) put the cellphone away or (b) put the makeup away. Cellphones don't go airborne as they are needed to continually communicate and complain to others trapped in classrooms around the school.
The commonality of the Es and the Bs is the deep, deep hurt, loss and shame, knowing that their lives are not what they should be and believing they are powerless to do anything about it. Working with them, hope springs eternal that an idea might catch, a small taste of success may help them thirst for more and learning new skills may build confidence. With the mentally ill or those mired in drugs, it is to use a Jersey expression, "Like shoveling shit against the tide."
Working with mentally ill students is a unique experience. The task is to help them organize their chaotic thoughts just long enough to get them through the assignments to the final grade in each class. "My father is the Bishop of Canterbury and my mother's family, I think is from Jupiter. World War I started with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinande." Quickly, the teacher stops the conversation and says, "That one, that last sentence, write that down."
And then there are drugs, students who earned a 3.5 average one year, line up a columns of Fs the following year and to them it just doesn't matter. No more needs to be said. Heart are broken.
I know I have more weeks to spend this summer than are so far spent. That is a good thing. More time to spend reading, fishing, spending time with my wonderful family, all will be well. I just wonder about the students...
I have to simply say, it was one hell of a year. We started a new program and while I believe it met the needs of students, in that without it, they would have been shipped to more restrictive schools, it took its toll on me...more than I expected.
In the world of students with emotional and behavioral disorders, they can be divided into the
Es and the Bs. Es are those who are drowning in the quicksand of self loathing and worthlessness. The world taught them it has nothing to offer them and they have nothing to offer it. They come to school reciting the daily mantra of "I don't care. It doesn't matter. Who gives a damn." For some, even the effort to shower eludes them, Frebreeze is the cologne of choice. That aroma together with stale cigarette smoke and car grease can clear the classroom in under 10 seconds.
The Bs are the in your face type. The guys tend to be loud, easily pick a fight with the teacher, usually over word choice such as, "It's been five minutes, you should probably get started on the assignment. It is due at the end of the hour." The student's face darkens, paper may or may not fly off the desk and the verbal barrage begins..."What, you expect me to do this? I don't get it...this doesn't make any sense...I don't feel like it...this is baby work...what's the point." As he spews forth, he looks for buy in from others. At the beginning of the year, he gets it. If we do our job right, by October, he doesn't. That, however, does not stop him, he continues on to June. It's just nice to know he sings solo, there is no choir. The gals, who are few, possess fine tuned sarcasm and the ability to hurl entire bags of makeup across the room. The makeup flies when asked either, (a) put the cellphone away or (b) put the makeup away. Cellphones don't go airborne as they are needed to continually communicate and complain to others trapped in classrooms around the school.
The commonality of the Es and the Bs is the deep, deep hurt, loss and shame, knowing that their lives are not what they should be and believing they are powerless to do anything about it. Working with them, hope springs eternal that an idea might catch, a small taste of success may help them thirst for more and learning new skills may build confidence. With the mentally ill or those mired in drugs, it is to use a Jersey expression, "Like shoveling shit against the tide."
Working with mentally ill students is a unique experience. The task is to help them organize their chaotic thoughts just long enough to get them through the assignments to the final grade in each class. "My father is the Bishop of Canterbury and my mother's family, I think is from Jupiter. World War I started with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinande." Quickly, the teacher stops the conversation and says, "That one, that last sentence, write that down."
And then there are drugs, students who earned a 3.5 average one year, line up a columns of Fs the following year and to them it just doesn't matter. No more needs to be said. Heart are broken.
I know I have more weeks to spend this summer than are so far spent. That is a good thing. More time to spend reading, fishing, spending time with my wonderful family, all will be well. I just wonder about the students...
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
10 Things I've Learned in 20 Years
This year marks my 20th year in Minnesota. Having grown up on the East Coast I thought I knew everything, I found I did not. Here are a few things I've learned in the Land of 10,000 Lakes.
1. We are in charge of nothing, nature is a powerful force, tornadoes take buildings apart with ease and relocate the pieces across the countryside. Hail the size of baseballs do damage, especially to cars left outside because someone took all the room in the garage with his "stuff." Dents galore create a more aerodynamic car according to my one and only. 40 degrees below zero does make your eyes sting, your breath freeze and really wakes you up in a hurry when you step outside.
2. People with real blonde hair and blue eyes do exist and not only that, there are a lot of them!
3. Chicken does not originate in traypack at the supermarket. People actually discuss the best ways to kill chickens, some whip them over their heads to snap the neck, others use the knife and I'm sure there are more ways, these are the most frequently sited in my company.
4. Huge farm implements drive down the road, like everyone else! I can't name any of them, but they are impressive.
5. People love their Minnesota Twins, not because they are bizzion dollar athletes but because they are scrappy. People love their Minnesota Vikings because they like to have their hearts broken.
6. People love the water and they go up North to get to it. (As opposed to migrating south to the shore and ocean.) People just don't sit and bake in the sun, they camp, fish, kayak, walk the trails or bike them...they do stuff at the lake!
7. There is nothing as exciting in spring as looking at the perfect rows in the fields and seeing the corn break through. It grows to knee high by the 4th of July, rises to the sun and then golden against the autumn sky. Late at night, the farmers are out, lights on their combines in the fields taking in the harvest. Honest, hard work, honest hardworking people.
8. Cows are big and their calves are adorable, racing to catch up with Mom, leaning against her for comfort and security.
9. When it's light, it's light and when it's dark, it's dark. Summer the sun is up around 5 am and twilight lasts until 10 pm; Winter, sun up at 7:45 am and down at 4:30. It's amazed me for 20 years.
10. Minnesota is a great place to raise kids, get a great education, make wonderful kind and caring friends (although I do miss some dear friends back East) and meet the greatest guy around...my Mr. Schmidt.
1. We are in charge of nothing, nature is a powerful force, tornadoes take buildings apart with ease and relocate the pieces across the countryside. Hail the size of baseballs do damage, especially to cars left outside because someone took all the room in the garage with his "stuff." Dents galore create a more aerodynamic car according to my one and only. 40 degrees below zero does make your eyes sting, your breath freeze and really wakes you up in a hurry when you step outside.
2. People with real blonde hair and blue eyes do exist and not only that, there are a lot of them!
3. Chicken does not originate in traypack at the supermarket. People actually discuss the best ways to kill chickens, some whip them over their heads to snap the neck, others use the knife and I'm sure there are more ways, these are the most frequently sited in my company.
4. Huge farm implements drive down the road, like everyone else! I can't name any of them, but they are impressive.
5. People love their Minnesota Twins, not because they are bizzion dollar athletes but because they are scrappy. People love their Minnesota Vikings because they like to have their hearts broken.
6. People love the water and they go up North to get to it. (As opposed to migrating south to the shore and ocean.) People just don't sit and bake in the sun, they camp, fish, kayak, walk the trails or bike them...they do stuff at the lake!
7. There is nothing as exciting in spring as looking at the perfect rows in the fields and seeing the corn break through. It grows to knee high by the 4th of July, rises to the sun and then golden against the autumn sky. Late at night, the farmers are out, lights on their combines in the fields taking in the harvest. Honest, hard work, honest hardworking people.
8. Cows are big and their calves are adorable, racing to catch up with Mom, leaning against her for comfort and security.
9. When it's light, it's light and when it's dark, it's dark. Summer the sun is up around 5 am and twilight lasts until 10 pm; Winter, sun up at 7:45 am and down at 4:30. It's amazed me for 20 years.
10. Minnesota is a great place to raise kids, get a great education, make wonderful kind and caring friends (although I do miss some dear friends back East) and meet the greatest guy around...my Mr. Schmidt.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
One of Those Weeks, Take Two
Looking at my last post, it reflected what goes wrong. This week was another one of those weeks, but instead of what goes wrong, it was filled with what is so very right. I was privileged to be part of and witness the power of passion.
Farmington is a QComp district and at FHS, we work to make the most of the program. One part of the program are Professional Development Plans and Portfolios. The Plans are ideas, concepts and action plans teacher want to use to improve student achievement, the portfolios are the data and artifacts. A small group of us review both and what we saw amazed us. Teachers at their innovative best, doing great things in their classroom and students responding. It was breathtaking.
As we read the documents, the air in the room became charged..."read this!" "Look at that, we need to have that shared with the whole staff.!" We couldn't stop reading and we couldn't stop talking. The dedication of the FHS staff to the achievement of 1,900 students is simply inspiring. It was for us a day of celebration.
This brings me to the larger picture. I spent many a day in meetings during my tenure in Corporate America. Virtually every meeting was concerned with how to get other companies to buy what they probably do not need because that meant higher profits and bigger salaries and bonuses. They were mind-boggling exhausting. I never, ever found a greater purpose in those meetings.
What has thrilled me since I entered the teaching profession 11 years ago is the fire and passion teachers have for their students, for their subject area, for being creative and collaborative...all to bring the best out in each other and in their students. Teachers do not do what they do for money, they do it for the greater good. They do it despite being criticized in person, in public and as fodder for political gain. They do it because they recognize the need for an educated civil society. Our society will not be sustained by ipads and iphones, 24/7 news, reality shows and unadulterated greed. Our society will be sustained by citizens knowing and doing for the greater good, using their amassed knowledge to discern the truth, having compassion and understanding for EVERYONE within our borders.
It is May and some people will begin the chant of teachers have the summer off..how lazy. What I see are teachers stretching to reach students as the final days of the school year race across the calendar. I see teachers looking to next year already. I hear all over FHS teachers looking at the summer as a time to get together to improve, to innovate, to collaborate all in order to educate. That is passion, sweet, sweet passion.
Farmington is a QComp district and at FHS, we work to make the most of the program. One part of the program are Professional Development Plans and Portfolios. The Plans are ideas, concepts and action plans teacher want to use to improve student achievement, the portfolios are the data and artifacts. A small group of us review both and what we saw amazed us. Teachers at their innovative best, doing great things in their classroom and students responding. It was breathtaking.
As we read the documents, the air in the room became charged..."read this!" "Look at that, we need to have that shared with the whole staff.!" We couldn't stop reading and we couldn't stop talking. The dedication of the FHS staff to the achievement of 1,900 students is simply inspiring. It was for us a day of celebration.
This brings me to the larger picture. I spent many a day in meetings during my tenure in Corporate America. Virtually every meeting was concerned with how to get other companies to buy what they probably do not need because that meant higher profits and bigger salaries and bonuses. They were mind-boggling exhausting. I never, ever found a greater purpose in those meetings.
What has thrilled me since I entered the teaching profession 11 years ago is the fire and passion teachers have for their students, for their subject area, for being creative and collaborative...all to bring the best out in each other and in their students. Teachers do not do what they do for money, they do it for the greater good. They do it despite being criticized in person, in public and as fodder for political gain. They do it because they recognize the need for an educated civil society. Our society will not be sustained by ipads and iphones, 24/7 news, reality shows and unadulterated greed. Our society will be sustained by citizens knowing and doing for the greater good, using their amassed knowledge to discern the truth, having compassion and understanding for EVERYONE within our borders.
It is May and some people will begin the chant of teachers have the summer off..how lazy. What I see are teachers stretching to reach students as the final days of the school year race across the calendar. I see teachers looking to next year already. I hear all over FHS teachers looking at the summer as a time to get together to improve, to innovate, to collaborate all in order to educate. That is passion, sweet, sweet passion.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Then there are those weeks....
As we march our way through any given school year, there is a glob of time that moves along. The alarm goes off on Monday morning and the next thing you know it's Friday night. Not a good week, but not necessarily a bad week, it was just a week. Then there are those weeks....
It started off innocently enough but there was a hint of uneasiness. At first I thought it was the upcoming MCA testing extravaganza. Two fabulous days of testing our students on their mastery of reading, writing and math. We reminded them to get sleep Monday night and eat breakfast on Tuesday morning. Standing in front of gittery students our words of comfort went something like this, "Just think every 9th, 10th and 11th grader in Minnesota will be writing and bubbling along with you this morning. In other words, you are not alone in your misery."
Testing over, 9th grade students got back to business the next day. I commend the Civics teacher with whom I am honored to be with twice each day. She has unbridled faith in 9th graders, that is that they can read and comprehend, organize thoughts, use higher order thinking skills, put it all together and communicate effectively. Her faith was sorely stretched. For several days students researched the issues in the Minnesota legislature...racino, Vikings Stadium, Right to Work, and Gay Rights Amendment. Students were to debate the issue. First up was Right to Work. Lined up in desks in the front of the room were three students taking the position for the Right to Work, three others again it. First question out of the box...what is a union? Silence followed.....more silence.....more silence. Finally one student muttered...people pay dues to the company to buy gas....more silence.
Staying with gas, let's move onto gasbags. We all know those folks, people who prattle on and on and your job is to try and figure out what they are talking about and exactly the point of it all. I tend to get a massive headache. At a meeting Thursday morning, our resident gasbag walked in late. Looking up I reminded myself of my prayer on Sunday mornings to not be harsh, not be cruel, not be condesending. 1.5 seconds into his whining I launched in, fist on table and raised voice. A bit later our principal had to call time out. It was not nice...I know what I'll be doing Sunday morning.
What sapped my strength though was drugs and neglect. Drugs derailed a student who I thought was going to make it to graduation in June. I watched a steady decline over the past month. Hoping every day he would turn the corner, he didn't. Next week it is off to treatment, graduation and future on hold. I boil inside knowing we can stop the drugs flooding into our communities, our homes, our schools. But we won't because there is too much money to be made by too many people. A professor I had in college once said, "Big, big business is bad, bad, bad." Drugs are big business.
Neglect and verbal abuse are something you can't see...it leaves no visible marks. You only see the results. One of my students hasn't been home for a while. We held onto a sliver of hope because while not going home, she came to school every day and she tried. This week she didn't until today. Quickly putting emotional support bandaids on as fast as we could, all we can hope is they last until Monday. If they do, she will be back. We've called in Dakota County Social Services. I don't understand the meager response. I do know funds in the county were cut to the bone.
Don't even get me started on the Vikings Stadium and the megabucks the Legislature is about to bestow on the purple and gold. It's been one of those weeks.
It started off innocently enough but there was a hint of uneasiness. At first I thought it was the upcoming MCA testing extravaganza. Two fabulous days of testing our students on their mastery of reading, writing and math. We reminded them to get sleep Monday night and eat breakfast on Tuesday morning. Standing in front of gittery students our words of comfort went something like this, "Just think every 9th, 10th and 11th grader in Minnesota will be writing and bubbling along with you this morning. In other words, you are not alone in your misery."
Testing over, 9th grade students got back to business the next day. I commend the Civics teacher with whom I am honored to be with twice each day. She has unbridled faith in 9th graders, that is that they can read and comprehend, organize thoughts, use higher order thinking skills, put it all together and communicate effectively. Her faith was sorely stretched. For several days students researched the issues in the Minnesota legislature...racino, Vikings Stadium, Right to Work, and Gay Rights Amendment. Students were to debate the issue. First up was Right to Work. Lined up in desks in the front of the room were three students taking the position for the Right to Work, three others again it. First question out of the box...what is a union? Silence followed.....more silence.....more silence. Finally one student muttered...people pay dues to the company to buy gas....more silence.
Staying with gas, let's move onto gasbags. We all know those folks, people who prattle on and on and your job is to try and figure out what they are talking about and exactly the point of it all. I tend to get a massive headache. At a meeting Thursday morning, our resident gasbag walked in late. Looking up I reminded myself of my prayer on Sunday mornings to not be harsh, not be cruel, not be condesending. 1.5 seconds into his whining I launched in, fist on table and raised voice. A bit later our principal had to call time out. It was not nice...I know what I'll be doing Sunday morning.
What sapped my strength though was drugs and neglect. Drugs derailed a student who I thought was going to make it to graduation in June. I watched a steady decline over the past month. Hoping every day he would turn the corner, he didn't. Next week it is off to treatment, graduation and future on hold. I boil inside knowing we can stop the drugs flooding into our communities, our homes, our schools. But we won't because there is too much money to be made by too many people. A professor I had in college once said, "Big, big business is bad, bad, bad." Drugs are big business.
Neglect and verbal abuse are something you can't see...it leaves no visible marks. You only see the results. One of my students hasn't been home for a while. We held onto a sliver of hope because while not going home, she came to school every day and she tried. This week she didn't until today. Quickly putting emotional support bandaids on as fast as we could, all we can hope is they last until Monday. If they do, she will be back. We've called in Dakota County Social Services. I don't understand the meager response. I do know funds in the county were cut to the bone.
Don't even get me started on the Vikings Stadium and the megabucks the Legislature is about to bestow on the purple and gold. It's been one of those weeks.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Sending Them Away
Almost every day I like what I do, working with special education students. I find that most of the time they have a better perspective on life than most adults. They are keenly aware of the human failings because they are the victims of those failings. Some retreat within themselves, others rage, all are wounded. They are doing their best to navigate the expectations, rules, regulations and demands of growing up. Once in a while a student comes along who despite our best efforts to support him, cannot navigate, cannot reach out and hold on, cannot "fake it till he makes it." Today I had to send that student away.
I don't like sending students away, not because of a sense of failure but because I don't like to see a student in such mental anquish, tortured life at this time in his life. As I sat at the meeting and Mom tried to lash out at our failings, tried to put digs into the school for not being up to the task of helping her child. I knew what I had to say and I knew it was going to hurt. Yes, I replied, we are not up to the task. Your child needs more mental health services than we can provide, he is that deeply hurt, in that much pain, is so very lost. With that, Mom put her head down, silent, staring off as we concluded the meeting. She shook my hand at the end, each of us nodding quietly acknowleding the depth of her son's needs.
I walked downstairs into my 1st hour class, looked over at a small, impish 9th grader who has just arrived from another state. He has told me he is not right in his mind. I think he right. I looked at him and thought, we will work hard for him, but how long will it be until I have to gather everyone around the table and send him away.
I like what I do, but not today.
I don't like sending students away, not because of a sense of failure but because I don't like to see a student in such mental anquish, tortured life at this time in his life. As I sat at the meeting and Mom tried to lash out at our failings, tried to put digs into the school for not being up to the task of helping her child. I knew what I had to say and I knew it was going to hurt. Yes, I replied, we are not up to the task. Your child needs more mental health services than we can provide, he is that deeply hurt, in that much pain, is so very lost. With that, Mom put her head down, silent, staring off as we concluded the meeting. She shook my hand at the end, each of us nodding quietly acknowleding the depth of her son's needs.
I walked downstairs into my 1st hour class, looked over at a small, impish 9th grader who has just arrived from another state. He has told me he is not right in his mind. I think he right. I looked at him and thought, we will work hard for him, but how long will it be until I have to gather everyone around the table and send him away.
I like what I do, but not today.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The 4th of July and an American Tradition--Class Warfare
Summer has finally arrived in Minnesota. Today is warm and sunny, the sky is an amazing blue, there is a hint of breeze and the birds sitting in the trees are quietly conversing. It is the 4th of July weekend and most folks are relaxing with friends, puttering in the yard, fishing, or camping. Camping is popular in Minnesota and people flock to the state parks to enjoy the outdoors. Say what? The state government is shut down? No camping in state parks? That's right, no camping, no full functioning government. The doors are locked, the boys and girls of the legislature are in their home districts for the weekend explaining why the other side is bad, bad, bad.
We are in the midst of class and regional warfare. People say that we aren't and if we are it's a new thing. Really? Anyone care to wander down the American history trail with a little twist? For starters, how about the division in the colonies. While a great many leaders came from the privileged landowners, the division between Tories and Colonialist centered on economic lines. Most Tories were loyal to the Crown because it suited their economic needs, for the Colonists, the Crown was strangling their economic prowess. Oh, yes of course there was that thing about freedom and self rule, but when the contest was won, who ruled? The landowners. The Constitution provides for direct election but with the caveat of the Electoral College, to save the country from the stupidity of the common man.
Let's skip along to the election of Andrew Jackson, the first of the common men to hold office. He reveled in breaking the back of the Bank of the United States because he was determined to slow down the power grab of the wealthy in the US. He was hated and despised by the wealthy but he was one tough son of a bitch and he prevailed. Move along to the Civil War.
The Civil War was the in ultimate regional and class warfare and it was steeped in a moral issue, slavery. The North made its money in manufacturing, the South in agriculture. The North used all the immigrants living in poverty and squalor to man its factories, the South used slaves. Men in the North could pay for someone to take their place in the ranks. (We will see that come again about 100 years later.) The war cost hundreds of thousands of casualties in the wounded and the dead.
Entering the Industrial Revolution, men like Andrew Carnegie worked the men in his steel plants six and a half days a week for 264 days a year. The only day they got off was the 4th of July. Men worked for pennies and he made millions. When men tried to unionize for decent pay and working conditions, he brought out the police thugs who beat the strikers. It was the unions working to organize men to fight for basic working rights and it did take enlightened leaders such as Theodore Roosevelt to force change. (there are always those who are contrary to their social class...Eleanor Roosevelt was another such wonderful person.) It was only in his later years, with the meeting with his Maker coming up did Carnegie start to give away his money, but even then his name had to be plastered on everything...just so the common man knew who his benefactor was. OK, kids still with me? Jump to the 1960'
The 1960's are a subject all its own with civil rights, assassinations and Vietnam, but I'm going to take just Vietnam for this. Vietnam was regional and class warfare. How? On both coasts the determination to protest was huge. There were marches and campus sit in and daily discussions in the high school hallways and every kitchen table about stopping the war. In the midwest, a more conservative region of the country, and the south which is even more conservative, the support for the Vietnam War stayed the longest. While the men fighting the war came from across the country because of the draft, it was predominately fought by the poor and minorities. A deferment was given to men going to college and they went by the thousands. I met one guy who was a student at Farleigh Dickinson University for seven years waiting out the war. When the war ended in 1974, he graduated the following spring.
Jump 15 years to the 1980's and Ronald Reagan and trickle down economy where the wealthy trickle their wealth down to the rest of us and you have it, class warfare out in the open for all to see. The rich became tremendously wealthy and the rest of us tried to tread water.
And so here we are today, the Minnesota Legislature couldn't pass a budget bill. The Republicans who mostly represent the rich and business class won't raise taxes, they only want to cut spending. Most of Minnesota's spending is on education and health and human services. In other words money is spent on those are not old enough to have money and power and those who are too old and/or are disenfranchised to have any power. The Governor wants to raise taxes on only those making a million dollars or more, so that tax would come out of discretionary money; unlike me, a new tax would come out of my milk money. So I say, thank you Governor Dayton for holding the line, sometimes there must be a clash in class warfare and something has to give...it's not just time to take a realistic view on spending, it's time again in our American way for class warfare. I'm not saying it's right or good, I'm just saying it's not new.
And for those living in another state, hold on, you too will have the chance to watch this play out as we march towards August 2, and the need to resolve the issue of the debt ceiling. Listen carefully to the debate, the Sunday morning gasbags, the politicians....there it will be...class warfare.
We are in the midst of class and regional warfare. People say that we aren't and if we are it's a new thing. Really? Anyone care to wander down the American history trail with a little twist? For starters, how about the division in the colonies. While a great many leaders came from the privileged landowners, the division between Tories and Colonialist centered on economic lines. Most Tories were loyal to the Crown because it suited their economic needs, for the Colonists, the Crown was strangling their economic prowess. Oh, yes of course there was that thing about freedom and self rule, but when the contest was won, who ruled? The landowners. The Constitution provides for direct election but with the caveat of the Electoral College, to save the country from the stupidity of the common man.
Let's skip along to the election of Andrew Jackson, the first of the common men to hold office. He reveled in breaking the back of the Bank of the United States because he was determined to slow down the power grab of the wealthy in the US. He was hated and despised by the wealthy but he was one tough son of a bitch and he prevailed. Move along to the Civil War.
The Civil War was the in ultimate regional and class warfare and it was steeped in a moral issue, slavery. The North made its money in manufacturing, the South in agriculture. The North used all the immigrants living in poverty and squalor to man its factories, the South used slaves. Men in the North could pay for someone to take their place in the ranks. (We will see that come again about 100 years later.) The war cost hundreds of thousands of casualties in the wounded and the dead.
Entering the Industrial Revolution, men like Andrew Carnegie worked the men in his steel plants six and a half days a week for 264 days a year. The only day they got off was the 4th of July. Men worked for pennies and he made millions. When men tried to unionize for decent pay and working conditions, he brought out the police thugs who beat the strikers. It was the unions working to organize men to fight for basic working rights and it did take enlightened leaders such as Theodore Roosevelt to force change. (there are always those who are contrary to their social class...Eleanor Roosevelt was another such wonderful person.) It was only in his later years, with the meeting with his Maker coming up did Carnegie start to give away his money, but even then his name had to be plastered on everything...just so the common man knew who his benefactor was. OK, kids still with me? Jump to the 1960'
The 1960's are a subject all its own with civil rights, assassinations and Vietnam, but I'm going to take just Vietnam for this. Vietnam was regional and class warfare. How? On both coasts the determination to protest was huge. There were marches and campus sit in and daily discussions in the high school hallways and every kitchen table about stopping the war. In the midwest, a more conservative region of the country, and the south which is even more conservative, the support for the Vietnam War stayed the longest. While the men fighting the war came from across the country because of the draft, it was predominately fought by the poor and minorities. A deferment was given to men going to college and they went by the thousands. I met one guy who was a student at Farleigh Dickinson University for seven years waiting out the war. When the war ended in 1974, he graduated the following spring.
Jump 15 years to the 1980's and Ronald Reagan and trickle down economy where the wealthy trickle their wealth down to the rest of us and you have it, class warfare out in the open for all to see. The rich became tremendously wealthy and the rest of us tried to tread water.
And so here we are today, the Minnesota Legislature couldn't pass a budget bill. The Republicans who mostly represent the rich and business class won't raise taxes, they only want to cut spending. Most of Minnesota's spending is on education and health and human services. In other words money is spent on those are not old enough to have money and power and those who are too old and/or are disenfranchised to have any power. The Governor wants to raise taxes on only those making a million dollars or more, so that tax would come out of discretionary money; unlike me, a new tax would come out of my milk money. So I say, thank you Governor Dayton for holding the line, sometimes there must be a clash in class warfare and something has to give...it's not just time to take a realistic view on spending, it's time again in our American way for class warfare. I'm not saying it's right or good, I'm just saying it's not new.
And for those living in another state, hold on, you too will have the chance to watch this play out as we march towards August 2, and the need to resolve the issue of the debt ceiling. Listen carefully to the debate, the Sunday morning gasbags, the politicians....there it will be...class warfare.
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