Ladylike?

Todd Akin, the idiot, er, candidate from Missouri who claimed women can “shut that whole thing down” when raped, has done it again. He opened his mouth yet one more time and showed that he views females to be inferior beings.

He complained that his opponent, Claire McCaskill, “came out swinging” and seemed “aggressive” in their debate. This threw him a little, took him unawares. He thought he remembered McCaskill in her 2006 campaign being “…very much sort of ladylike.” Apparently he didn’t expect the little female to be strong competition to an old-fashioned guy like him. If you ask me, he didn’t expect McCaskill to be strong, period.

Remember the movie Field of Dreams? Annie Kinsella accuses an ultra-conservative PTA mom of having lived through two 1950s and jumping straight into the 1970s without ever experiencing the peace, love, rock and roll of the 60s. Akin is stuck in the past somewhere, too, in an unrealistic vision with unrealistic plastic people.

When a candidate is strong, that’s good. If a candidate has enough knowledge and skill and strength to come out swinging in a political debate, that scores points in the candidates favor.

Male or female, I want my senator to be intelligent, articulate, and yes, strong. Male or female, that legislator needs to be able to come out swinging when it’s necessary. Ladylike? I’d rather see someone with strength, knowledge, and ability to work in a team.

Ladylike? I think we’re looking for womanly, myself. No apologies for being female, and no tolerance for inaccuracy and idiocy and condescension.

Hm. That sounds a lot like Tammy Baldwin for Wisconsin as well as Claire McCaskill for Missouri. Come November 6, I know who deserves my vote.

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Dear World: your sense of humor escapes me. Kinda.

Dear Clinic That Shall Not Be Named; We’ve discussed this in the past. I’m growing steadily more disillusioned with your system. Like many teachers, I do my best to avoid taking sick time unless the situation is urgent. Assigning me to a medical professional who only sees patients from 9:00 to 3:30 just isn’t working.

Dear Replacement Referees; If nothing else, you have reinforced what most of the world already knew. Green Bay Packers fans are awesome. We didn’t riot in the streets (much), we didn’t tip cars or blow up dumpsters. We took to the social media instead. Tweet, tweet!

Dear Union Buster Walker; Did you really suggest that the NFL negotiate with the officials’ union? Really? Hell must have frozen over. First Favre really retired, and then Walker found a union he liked.

Dear city crews; Wisconsin has two seasons: winter and road construction. If you keep delaying the project on our street, road construction season will be over and it’ll be – you guessed it – winter.

Dear zebras; We’re sorry you lovely gentle animals are getting harassed by association.  The replacement referees do not deserve the nickname Zebras. We’ll call them… readers, what do you suggest? Flying pigs? Mockingbirds?

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So we should eat which opponent this week?

“Daisy, you should have had a second cup of Starbucks coffee!”

I was greeted with this after a nearly sleepless night. Eating the Opponent — well, I’ll start with Sunday’s menu.

On Sunday, Iron Chef Chuck cooked up a fabulous salmon dish with a crab stuffing on top. With sides made from apples and potatoes, our Eating the Opponent: Seattle meal was perfect. Almost perfect.

Monday afternoon we (a vanload of teachers) took a small detour off the highway on our way home from a field trip. One of my coworkers pulled up his smart phone and found the nearest Starbucks for me. Why? People, people, Starbucks coffee, a quintessential Seattle product, was part of the plan for “Eating the Opponent.” This nice young teacher, a native of Cleveland and a Browns fan, guided us to Starbucks, where I treated myself to a Pumpkin Spice Latte in honor of the occasion.

Readers, if you didn’t watch the game, I’m sure you heard about it. I’m sure you saw replays of the final play, one of many botched calls by the replacement referees, and the disastrous results.

Back to the beginning. My coworkers first suggested that a second helping of Eating the Opponent might have helped. However, it wasn’t the Seahawks who beat Aaron Rodgers and Crew. It wasn’t the eleven men on the field or the mythical Twelfth Man, as they call their fans.

The replacement referees beat the Green Bay Packers.

So how does a family go about Eating the Opponent when the opponent isn’t the other team and the opponent has no home field?

My friendly cubicle neighbor suggested something stinky– limburger cheese –to represent the stinky job the officials had done. Another added sauerkraut to the list. Chuck sent me an email suggesting zebra burgers and vanilla-chocolate swirl pudding.

With that, readers, I need to stop. The NFL lockout of their officials is anything but a joke. The replacement refs are in a no-win situation in more ways than one. The more mistakes, the more doubts, and the more anger from players and coaches and fans. If the league is serious about maintaining any integrity to the 2012 season, they’ll negotiate now and negotiate quickly, before their substitutes in black and white get eaten alive.

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Voters and Packers and Bears – oh, my!

When do Green Bay Packers fans line up for hours to see a fan of their arch-enemy, the Chicago Bears?

When that Bears fan is President Obama, that’s when.

There were some scattered rain showers, and the temperatures were cooler by the lake, but nothing stopped this crowd from seeing the President, hearing the President, and cheering him on.

Tammy Baldwin opened for him – now she can say she was an opening act at Summerfest! – and helped energize the crowd. Not that the crowd needed much encouragement; there was a hum and a buzz as the fans, er, voters waited for the headline event.

POTUS_MKE_09222012_JOSH_POTUSCROWD

Add a few cheeseheads hats, and the scene could resemble a game at Lambeau Field.

POTUS_MKE_09222012_JOSH_HEADON

“We are not Bears fans first or Packers fans first; we are Americans first.”

I’ll add to the playbook. The election is coming up quickly. Before we know it, it’ll be voting day. There’s no overtime in elections. Let’s consider summer to be training camp, and September the preseason. Now it’s the real thing, and the final score will be, well, final. Are you in?

November 6th is coming all too soon.

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Closed Captioning the world

Having a hearing impairment means that I’ve gotten to know closed captioning rather well. I also know that closed captioning isn’t always accurate.

In the report of three airplanes in a near collision, I read “gnarly hit” instead of “nearly”. That would be a gnarly situation, all right.

From an interviewer to the subject: “I have a cupful of things to ask when we get back from this break.” Cupful? Couple. Or was this a take-off on the saying a thimble-full?

Oh, dear, this one is rated R. Alert! The anchor said something about a celebrity getting “…her piece of the pie.” The captioner, unfortunately, translated the phrase into the celebrity getting “…herpes…” Oops. Major oops.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, working quietly in my new cubicle, I kept thinking I heard my cell phone ringing. I keep my phone in my purse in a locked drawer, so it’s unlikely I’d hear it, really. But I’d hear that buzz and think, “Did I turn off the ringer and not the phone? Maybe it’s a fire drill. No, no one else is moving. We can’t be in a drill.” Was it the printer/copier? No, that was still a fairly quite machine. The solution to the mystery was on a table next to the copier/printer. The fax machine is closer to my cubicle than to the one that sheltered me last year – just close enough that I catch a hint of it beeping,buzzing, and then chugging away.

Even as the secretary was grumbling about the overwhelming number of faxes we were getting, I was laughing because I actually noticed. She couldn’t resist; she joined in and laughed, too. My world is a hearing world, and I’ve learned to face that world with an open mind and a sense of humor.

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On a lovely autumn Saturday —

1. Go to market, to market, to buy apples if they’re available. Applesauce stock in the basement is already dwindling. I take that as a sign that it’s good and I should make more.

To Market, To Market! update

2. City Slipper invited bloggers to post what they’re eating from their gardens. Here? Tomatoes, tomatoes, and more tomatoes. Last night’s variation: BLTs. Butternut squash call my name today – or maybe salad with cherry tomatoes.

tomatoes, tomahtoes – and Chuck wanted a zippy pepper

3. Eating the opponent returns! Last week we had Chicago style pizza with a sauce made from garden tomatoes. This week the Packers play Seattle. I sense Starbucks coffee in my future.

How about you, readers? I’ll add updates as the weekend goes on.

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Mitt, Mitt, Mitt.

Dear Mitt;

May I call you Mitt? After all, you’re not really earning my respect these days. The first name will have to do.

Microphones off or on, Mitt, you must think about what you say. Or maybe, just maybe, you really did think about that statement. That’s what scares me. It was, after all, full of your favorite terms. It had a number – a percent, no less! It described a segment of the population that you see as beneath you, which showed clearly in your choice of words. Let’s see.

-dependent on government 

Mitt, I work in the public sector. Does that make me dependent on government? My children attended public schools, and my daughter attended a state university. If that makes us dependent on government, then I guess we fit the profile. By the way, your perception of middle income? Way, way high. We ordinary public school teachers don’t even dream of reaching your estimate of $250,000.

-think they are victims

No, Mitt, I’m not a victim. I’ve been through a lot in the recent past, including a long (unpaid) medical leave from my job (see above). I’m a disabled adult and I wear two hearing aids, but I’m not a victim, Mitt. I’m a survivor. .

-entitled to health care

Health care, Mitt, is a right, not a privilege. Here’s where we differ. No one should have to wait seven months to see a specialist. No one should have to turn down a necessary prescription because it’s a Tier 3 and the co-pay is too high. No one should have to turn down medicine in order to buy food. Which brings me to —

-entitled to food

What exactly are you saying? That people should starve? Have you ever watched a child wolf down his school-funded breakfast on Monday morning because he hasn’t eaten all weekend? No, I didn’t think so. Or – maybe you did mean that hunger doesn’t exist, much less actually matter. (Uh, Mitt? That “Let them eat cake” quote wasn’t really Marie, but she lost her head over it. America still has peasants who have no bread, make no doubt about it.)

-entitled to housing

Once again – are you saying that a home is optional? Home doesn’t have to be fancy. An apartment, a room in a shelter, space in a relative’s basement – housing takes many forms, as does homelessness. Mitt, I’ve seen it firsthand. Have you? Frankly, having a roof over one’s head is not optional.

My job is not to worry about those people.”

Really? If you don’t worry about them, who will? We public school teachers (you know, the ones that Scottie-in-Madison calls Thugs) worry about our students. We worry about their families, and we worry about the village that raises them. It’s a village where we worry about each other, and then we take action. If you’re not worrying, I’m sure you’ll take no actions that might make a difference to anyone on your list. A list, by the way, that includes nearly half of the voters in the United States.

No wonder those voters stick with Barack Obama. It’s not because we’re entitled, but because President Obama has earned our respect. And that, Mitt, makes him entitled to another four years in office.

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Would you do it for free?

Our union building rep (BR) brought us reports and advice for dealing with our new not-a-contract Handbook. One piece of advice: do not, under any circumstances, use our own personal funds to buy supplies. If we even need something as small as a pencil, we are not to bring it from home or buy it ourselves.

So today I sent myself an email. Of course I send myself emails; doesn’t everybody? I send notes from work to home to remind me to do or bring something the next day. Those emails usually look like this:

to: Me, of course
subject: BRING (in all caps, of course, so I don’t delete it)
And then the message arrives, looking more like a shopping list than a memo. Today I sent home a note that said “BRING — binder, small to medium.” 

And then I remembered. We are to bring no supplies from our own homes, buy nothing with our own money. Pencils? No problem; we have boxes of nice pencils sporting our school logo. Pens? Virtual teachers travel fairly often for standardized testing and field trips, so most of us have a collection of (oh, readers, I hear you laughing; you’re way ahead of me) hotel pens and scratch pads. Binders? I keep a box at home because Amigo uses a lot of binders for his Braille papers. Many are repurposed from Chuck’s workplace. I almost never pay money for a binder. They’re too easy to scavenge for free.

Where does this put me? I didn’t know. I probably didn’t pay any of my precious pennies for this binder, but it’s mine. All. Mine. And Amigo’s, too, if I’m totally honest. 

It’s like getting stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I BYOB (Bring My Own Binder), I send the message that it’s okay, I’ll handle this. Don’t spend the school district’s money on necessary supplies. I’ll supply the cash.

Now take the BYOB dilemma up to a higher level. It’s the guilt trip I’ve been hearing from top brass in Chicago, but it’s a guilt trip I’ve heard from fellow teachers at times, too.

“What’s best for kids?” is the question. “Do what’s right for kids,” is the answer, too. The unsaid piece, though, is this: How far will teachers go? How much will educators do without recognition, without compensation, without pay?

Some take it as a point of pride when they “ignore the contract” to organize and put on an evening event at school. Staffers who choose not to attend can be shunned at school based on the implication that they “don’t care enough.” In other settings, coming to school to work on a weekend can be a conflicting act. If a family drives by school on a dreary weekend and sees my classroom light on, they see me working overtime – for free.

And that, my friends and colleagues, is where the conflict begins. How much will teachers do for free? Is a teacher’s skill and expertise and experience worth $0 per hour? How long and how far do we go before we collapse and say, “NO MORE!” . How long can quality education last under circumstances in which the experienced and educated professionals are told, not asked, that they are worth nothing?

Chicago teachers, you have my support. Don’t ever let the big kahunas tell you that it’s “good for kids” when their teachers work for nothing.

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Uncertainty and cautious optimism in Wisconsin

A Circuit Court Judge in Dane County, Wisconsin, has ruled Act 10 null and void. Act 10 is Scott Walker’s baby. It’s the collective bargain law, the one that makes public employees feel like public enemies. It’s the law that caused several Democratic senators to flee the state to prevent a quorum, hoping to delay bringing the piece of legislation to a vote at all. It’s the one that inspired thousands, not hundreds, of  protesters to crowd the Capitol with their bodies, their voices, their drums, and their banners. And now, a judge has ruled that this law violates both the Wisconsin Constitution and the Constitution of the United States.

We’re wary. We’re not celebrating yet. It’s not quite final.

We teachers feel vindicated, but only a little. Those other public employees are looking rather tentative, too.

No one is planning a party, so hold onto your red Solo cups. There’s so much pain and bitterness involved that a blowout demonstration just doesn’t seem right.

After the most recent union meeting, our building rep brought back news of wildly inconsistent interpretation of the new handbook that replaced our contract. She also advised us not to spend our own money on anything – not even a pencil.

Walker and his clones, er, cronies plan to appeal. If it ever makes it to the state Supreme Court, we predict this badly conceived and poorly written law will be upheld because the Tea Party types hold a majority. Then again, the Supreme Court isn’t without its own drama. I’m sure they get choked up just thinking about it. Not.

Now what? Readers, I’ll let you know. I’m not spending any extra money, though. I’ll just keep teaching, teaching, teaching.

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Welcome to cubicle land!

As the school year begins, as our cruise ship for the pathways of learning pulls away from shore — oh, that was awful. Boats don’t travel on pathways. Canals, maybe. I’ll start over.

The first task for teachers at my virtual school is the Welcome Call. We call each and every family on our roster and talk to the student(s) and the learning coach, usually a parent. These calls can take anywhere from fifteen minutes to thirty minutes to over an hour. The calls are well worth the time.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, in the cubicle known as the O.K. Hardware, these calls sound different. My cubicle is in the middle of the action. I hear snippets of phrases, sometimes full sentences, but they’re all out of context. Put together, they create a whole new conversation – or no conversation at all.

Captured Talk on a Welcome Topic

Yeah, yeah, I think so.

It’s confusing.

You have how many cavities?

Call me back at…..

Do you have other animals at home?

I have a garden, too.

Don’t try that without asking your parents.

Well, the City Council said…

And that’s something else.

How are you doing? How are you? How. Are. You?

–no, this last one wasn’t me.

I think I like this new cubicle. At the very least, it’s entertaining.

 

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