Some thoughts about schools--and parents

 

When I was in eighth grade, I had a math teacher who for whatever reason did not like me. Admittedly, math has never been one of my best subjects, but I was not disruptive or a troublemaker. I talked to my mom, and she agreed that for some reason Miss Evans did not like me. I can still see her in my mind’s eye—an “ample,” older spinster lady with “styled” white hair and sensible black shoes that laced. My mom supported me, and my dad tried harder to help me with math, which was painful for both of us. What they did not do was rush up to the school and demand that Miss Evans be fired, or that I be assigned another math teacher—there wasn’t another one anyway. They taught me, instead, that life wasn’t always going to go my way, and I would survive.

I am really weary of a handful of today’s crop of parents, who think they can dictate school policy and curriculum. The furor in Carrollton/Southlake over teaching “alternative” theories of the Holocaust is but one example. That school district now has an open seat on its board and will have a non-partisan election—only it’s gotten quite partisan. When I hear a candidate say that we must protect children from radical ideas, my hackles go way up.

Parents have always been charged with protecting their children, but the nature of the perceived enemy has changed. Anything that makes children uncomfortable is now deemed unsuitable, so students are being taught a white-washed version of American history, from witch hunts to slavery to LGBTQ issues. The Critical Race Theory threat looms large and is purely a problem created by Republicans (thank you, Governor Abbott) to distract from their other problems. Those of us who pay attention know that CRT is a complicated discipline that is taught at the graduate level, primarily in law schools, and never in elementary or high schools. I have read articles about it, including some about the former Harvard faculty member generally credited with its origin, and frankly, it’s tough stuff. I can’t quite wrap my brain around it, and I am fairly well educated. I love the anonymous grade school teacher who said if she can teach her kids to read, write, and do elementary math, she’s happy. CRT is the farthest thing from her mind.

This attitude that parents can dictate to schools is not new when it comes to books, but it seems to have escalated—or maybe we have new issues. Race has always been contentious (banning To Kill a Mockingbird is insane), but I don’t remember LGBTQ issues being a topic when my kids were in school—today’s openness is a positive improvement, except for small-minded bigots. Unknowingly, these folks have given a great sales boost to Jerry Craft’s New Kid. It reminds me of the spurt in sales of Forget the Alamo! after Dan Patrick banned the book from the Bullock Museum. I read recently of a parent who objected to several books which were summarily removed from a teacher’s classroom, which led the teacher to complain that one woman had taken those books from all 142 of her students.

The mask controversy is the worst. In Fort Worth, four parents objected to masking and so far, their order carries the day. Masking is not mandated in Fort Worth schools. (Don’t pay attention to the governor’s anti-mandate mandate—more schools are ignoring it than complying and he can’t enforce it; in Florida DeSantis’ efforts at enforcement have simply weakened school programs by costing schools money). The worst about the anti-masking idiots, other than that they get their science from Facebook, is that they threaten violence. While most incidents have involved yelling, “We know where you live” and other threats, there have been a few violent outbursts.

At the risk of being accused of elitism I would suggest that these parents who fear so much for their children have one thing in common: a lack of education or intellectual curiosity (okay, make that two things). And now they are passing that on not only to their children but to all of ours because they are dictating policy and curriculum.

Think of it: one mother removes books from 142 children; four parents put an end to masking in an entire big-city school district; a governor says teach the Alamo but not the story of Greenwood, OK. It is similar to what’s happening in our county—the minority has grabbed the reins of power and are dictating, against the wishes of the general public.

Is this our future?

 

I had a guest for happy hour tonight, a longtime friend of my oldest son. I’ve known him since they were in high school together and, later, tended bar at several restaurants. Back then, I prayed they would find themselves something out of food service, and eventually both did. I’m fond of this man, and when I found out he was in town—actually because left a gift of wine on my porch—I said he couldn’t be in Fort Worth without coming to see me. We settled on five o’clock tonight.

But then he texted, with great honesty, “I am unvaccinated.” I replied we would visit on the patio, socially distanced and masked. He asked if he could stand on the sidewalk and not wear a mask, but I said no. He’d have to stand so far away that I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I am beyond grateful that he cared enough to put on a mask to see me (he apparently never wears one). When he arrived, he reached out and said, “Can I hug you?” and I said, “No. No hugs.” So we sat and visited for almost two hours.

I had jokingly warned him that he would get my mask lecture, and at first, he said he’d submit. But then in a late message, he said, “I’m not looking forward to that lecture.” We visited for maybe twenty minutes until the subject came up, and I asked why he wasn’t vaccinated. He laughed and said, “Boy, you wait twenty minutes, and then boom! You’re right on it.”

Essentially his opinion is that it’s a virus and it’s going to be around forever, and it would do no good for him to vaccinate or mask. The virus he said will continue to mutate and we’ll never beat it. “Now they’re talking about a third shot. And then it will be the fourth. When will it end?”  He repeated what I consider the now a shop-worn line, “We all have to make a decision that’s best for us.” My plea that we vaccinate and mask for others, fell on deaf ears. So did my reminder that the virus mutates in victims, so the more unvaccinated people who get sick, the more opportunities for mutation.

He’s not a Trumper, although he is by no means the liberal that I am. But the vaccination issue for him wasn’t even political. It was just kind of a “it is what it is.” He’s angry about covid because his two sons lost a year and a half of schooling, and he believes that everything that comes along, from evictions to staffing shortage to what-have-you, gets blamed on covid, as though it’s an easy peg to hang all your troubles on. And he thinks the government is too much in our live--in Texas I would agree with him.

I admit I wimped out. I was prepared to go into full campaign mode, convince him, so that by the time he left he’d be headed for the nearest clinic to get vaccinated. It didn’t happen. No way. We had pleasant discussions about a lot of things, some reminiscences, nice talk. We agree about abortion (though he is a good Catholic), and we agree (I think) about Governor Abbott, Daniel Patrick, transgender students, and a lot of other hot-button issues. When we disagreed, it was amicable. The one topic I didn’t bring up was the border wall. He was born in Columbia and in his home, they still speak Spanish, so the Border Patrol was in many ways a logical career choice for him. I didn’t ask about it, didn’t ask what he thinks of the wall, though I wanted to.

I decided friendship and amicable relationships were more important, and in this instance, it was a good decision. But I see it as an omen for the future as we head into a second surge of covid. Are we going to choose our friends—and moderate our discussions—based on what others believe, especially when it goes counter to science or, in some cases, what I consider morality? It’s a hard call. If he had defended Abbott, would I have jumped into the fray? I have distanced myself from the very few friends who were/are ardent trump supporters. But is this dilemma, like his prediction for the virus, always going to be with us? I want peace and friendships, but on the other hand, I feel so desperate to have people follow the science and protect themselves to protect the rest of us. It’s a dilemma.

Your thoughts?

A pleasant nothing day

 

Dancing with more grace than I ever managed

Today I found a quote and two new words for the day that I want to share. That alone tells you what kind of a day I’ve had. The quote (stolen from I don’t remember who): “Reading is breathing in; writing is breathing out.”

The first word: myrmidon: “a follower or subordinate of a powerful person, typically one who is unscrupulous or carries out orders unquestioningly.” I read that guess where? In an article about people who are still promoting trump’s Big Lie, and I immediately had to look it up. Once I found the definition, it was so appropriate I couldn’t resist sharing. A lot of names come to mind, more every day as more facts are revealed.

The other word is much more personal: it’s balter. I’m not sure what context I read it in, but it struck me, maybe because it was my last name with one letter added. And then the definition really struck me: it means to dance gracelessly. I’m quite convinced that’s how I’ve gone through life—dancing, but without a lot of grace. It doesn’t bother me, because dancing is a good thing, a sign of joy.

Gracelessly makes me think of my mom who once said to me, “I wish I’d given you ballet lessons. They would have made you so graceful.” Don’t get me wrong: I adored my mother, and we were best friends for all the years until her mind slipped. But she was right. Even as a child I had no reliable sense of balance. As a young married, I had a good friend who was equally graceless, and my ex referred to us as the dance team of Ox and Klutz. I guess it’s all about accepting who you are and how God made you. It doesn’t, however, help my graceless state that right now, as I write, I have one eye on the Olympics where American women are running like gazelles.

And yes, it’s been that kind of a day: I was at my computer almost all day, and I can now see light at the end of the tunnel. I’m about to reach the end of Irene in Danger, and in the last week or so of a spurt of writing, I’ve added lots of words more effortlessly than usual. For a long time with this novel, I thought I never would get even to the 20,000-word mark. A typical cozy mystery is at least 60,000 words and preferably about 75,000. I’m now at 40,000, but I feel I’ve got a head of steam. Once I write that last scene, the real work begins—editing, expanding, filling in plot holes. The first draft of a book is sometimes sheer agony, like pulling teeth; editing and rewriting is almost pure joy.

The Covid surge is much on my mind these days. The last couple of times I’ve been out to restaurants I’ve forgotten about masks, only to remind myself that I must start wearing one again. In the Stockyard, for instance, I saw no masked, and Pru reminded me, “Not in this crowd.” But I have friends who were inadvertently exposed to someone who tested positive a day or two after they were together, so my friends are quarantining and self-testing, interspersed with professional testing, for two weeks. Would that all our citizens were that responsible and that caring for the community around them. I’m so alarmed by the people who resist vaccination, for whatever reason, that I have begun dreaming about being in a small group and learning that one of the people is not vaccinated.

We all know how the issues of vaccination, politics, and personal freedom got entangled. It traces right back to the former president. But that people still are singing that song appalls me. I think governors DeSantis and Abbott should be arrested for dereliction of duty. Wouldn’t that be a hoot—Abbott who is threatening to arrest Democratic members of the Texas Senate if they come back for the second special session he’s called (spending untold millions of taxpayer dollars). We have gotten to be such a divided, litigious, angry society that I sometimes despair that the atmosphere will ever change. But mask wearing should be above that—it’s a matter of public health, not your freedom, etc. A bit uncomfortable? There’s a wonderful graphic on the internet showing what happens when they intubate you. Don’t talk to me about freedom or discomfort.

Until this current surge is over, I will not knowingly see anyone who is not vaccinated. And I don’t intend to be shy about asking. I asked the wonderful lady who cleans my house and gets all those corners I can’t get from a walker, and yes, she has had the shots. Still, she wears a mask when she is here.

I have rambled on, but I leave you with this suggestion I saw online: what worked with enforcing seatbelts was the slogan, “Click it or ticket.” How about “Mask it or casket.”

Sweet dreams everyone and dig out those masks and put them on again.

Adventure on a wasted day

At the doctor's office

Tonight sitting on the patio with a glass of wine, I decided I could either consider this day an adventure or a wasted day. In terms of the work projects on my desk, the day was a total loss. I got not one thing done. I did spend a lot of time on Facebook, because it kept me occupied while waiting and gnashing my teeth.

Long story short I have been worrying with a skin infection on my leg. Yesterday, Jordan pointed out it was badly swollen, and the doctors in my family decreed it was time to see my primary care physician. I am fortunate that he is in a network, so I can communicate directly with him. So last night, I sent him an email detailing the problem, along with pictures of the leg.

No response. I couldn’t concentrate on work this morning, while I was hoping he would email any minute. Finally, about ten-thirty I called the office only to be told he does not see patients on Fridays. Stymied. And more waiting, looking up emergency care clinics—found a mobile one, which sounded great because they would come to me. But turns out they don’t treat patients over seventy-five, so that ruled that one out. While Jordan and I were trying to figure out what to do next, I got a most welcome email from my doctor. Even on Friday, he wanted to see me and my leg. I wrote back with gratitude and asked what time.

No answer. More waiting and wondering and gnashing my teeth. I didn’t want to miss him and go the whole long weekend worrying about my leg. I could see on the Web site that no one had looked at my last email, so at one, when they opened after lunch, I called. Complete confusion was followed by a long time on hold, but finally someone came on and said they would call the doctor and call me back. I anticipated another long wait, but they called right back and asked if I could be there at three. Of course I could.

The doctor did an exam, an office ultrasound, and offered some encouraging words, but he said he wanted to send me for a more extensive procedure at an imaging office. Another long wait ensued while they made arrangements, but then we got word I had a five o’clock appointment at an office in far southwest Fort Worth.

I had forgotten how windy that part of Fort Worth can be—it almost literally knocked me off my feet. Jordan had on a dress, and the wind threatened her modesty. She had a frustrating time trying to get my walker out of the back seat—all the while raining curses on my car because it’s so small and the new walker is a bit bulky.

The actual sonogram was fine—a bit uncomfortable but nothing to worry about, and by a little after five-thirty we were on our way home. The tech said my doctor will get a report tonight, but the general impression I get is that no one thinks it’s a blood clot. What it is, is more complicated—and I don’t know for sure—but details don’t belong here. Enough to say that I feel fine and am not in pain. We will see.

This was my third trip off my own property since March 12, a date firmly fixed in my mind. I couldn’t help saying, “Oh, look, there’s a whole wide world out here.” As we drove familiar roads, I saw new buildings and other things I’d never noticed before. I found it a bit tiring to be out in the world, and I longed for the moment I would be home again in my cocoon. I either have to get out more or resign myself to being a recluse—which isn’t all bad.

I was grateful to note that everywhere we went, everyone was masked and observing social distance. I thought maybe that was because we were in the health care system, but a friend wrote today that two days ago she went to the grocery and hardly anyone was masked; today she sat in the car while her husband ran an errand in Walgreen’s, and she said everyone was masked. A wonderful change. We may lick this thing yet. Of  course, Governor Abbott should have issued a statewide directive a week ago.

Stay safe and well, everyone.

Those pesky masks—or the pesky people who won’t wear them

I wish I could say I am so done with people who won’t wear masks, but the truth is I can’t say that. They walk among us in alarming numbers. Just today I have been accused of living in fear and told to go back to hiding under my bed because I advocate masks in public. And I have seen pictures of crowds where maybe half the people were masked.

My funniest story is about a friend—not an evangelical Christian—who wore a mask to the grocery store. In one aisle she saw a woman coming toward her without a mask, and she commented on it. My friend said, “My mask protects you, and your mask would protect me.” The other woman answered, “Oh, honey, Jesus loves you!” Make me laugh, but it is so serious.

The anti-mask people have a role model in the orange man who squats in the White House. The reason he refuses to wear a mask hasn’t been definitively stated, but the general assumption is that he considers it a sign of weakness, and he, coward that he is at heart, is all about appearing strong. The result is catastrophic. On a recent visit to a plant manufacturing test swabs, he refused to wear a mask, and the company had to throw out all the swabs, desperately needed for corona testing, that they had made that day. He had contaminated them. It doesn’t seem to occur to him that the mask is not to protect him but to protect others. Somehow, he considers himself immune to the virus.

Now, this man, charged with protecting the public good, is threatening to schedule new election rallies and a giant Republican campaign, and he has explicitly said, no masks allowed.

I have decided those who won’t wear masks fall into two categories (they may overlap): those who won’t let the “guv’mint” tell them what to do, by God, and those who are too stupid to understand. Either way, it’s an awful decision.

If everyone in this entire country wore a mask every time they were in public, the spread of the nuevo corona virus would be virtually stopped within three weeks. But no, we see people, even sick people, on beaches, and in protests, and even in restaurants and other places of business, going happily about their business, breathing their germs onto everyone else. I noticed today at the TV showing of George Floyd’s funeral, about half the people were masked.

The people who refuse government suggestions and cavalierly say, “If I get it, I get it,” are so blind to the consequences. If you get the virus, you are in danger of dying, no matter your age or pre-existing condition. A lot of perfectly healthy people in their thirties and forties have unexpectedly died. And it is not a peaceful, easy death with your loved ones surrounding your bedside. You die alone, with nurses, desperately gasping for breath. And if you survive? Maybe you’ll be healthy in a week, but maybe you’ll be like actor Nick Cordero who has been in ICU forever, had a leg amputated, and is just now starting on stem cell therapy.

If you say, “If I get it, I get it” you are not just putting yourself at risk—which is, of course, your right. But you are risking your family and friends. And you are adding one more desperate patient to a health care system already so overburdened that 600 health care workers have died, countless more are overworked and exhausted. I can add a personal note to this: I have a niece who is an RN on a COVID unit in Manhattan. She definitely does not want you as a patient. The statistics on how many people can be infected by one sick person are mind-blowing.

As for those too stupid to wear a mask, we need to find a way to make them understand that the great risk to themselves and their loved ones. Too many are saying, “It’s just like the flu,” or “There’s always illness.” Wrong folks, this is a menace like none known to history. Doctors don’t understand it, can’t predict it s course, haven’t yet develop an effective treatment therapy or preventive vaccine. It is not like any other disease, so get over that.

A confession: I don’t wear a mask much, because I rarely leave my home. But I would if I went out in public, and I have worn one when people came to my cottage. I know they’re uncomfortable and hot in the summer and maybe even an affront to your dignity but get over it. The public health is more important.

I have nothing but contempt for the millions of Americans who refuse to follow the guidelines. They are the reason the United States infection rates are so high, and the disease keeps spiking. Think about it: are you helping your neighbors and just being self-centered?