tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124347412024-03-07T01:11:07.782-06:00Ozarks AngelOzarks Angel was created in 2005 and ran for 2 years before going dark. It was resurrected in 2019 of its own volition. Some older pieces with current relevance are re-posted now and then. Springfield, Missouri, where Ozarks Angel lives, is home to Bass Pro Shops, Assemblies of God International Headquarters, Missouri State University and Cashew Chicken.
Encouragements: RayDad@venmo.comUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-7879065992924126712022-06-28T15:46:00.026-05:002024-01-09T21:03:34.485-06:00Breathing Holes<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJmcQfaz2qV_AcJXhBonpCMOUjwiGYxRliEf2YasnADqcBOb2XIsM_VQPsuOsoUwHhh-x4Nqp0aXNJ4KAJDVGUMnMdWfMkOePTZ9VEAWjzPHPb8PEBXDweSfhGC7z0jGrn5PhntBeS9N-lhnaUd4JOUq0-QjFJk0lNZi3ZTjBgnekeZVqkBfs" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJmcQfaz2qV_AcJXhBonpCMOUjwiGYxRliEf2YasnADqcBOb2XIsM_VQPsuOsoUwHhh-x4Nqp0aXNJ4KAJDVGUMnMdWfMkOePTZ9VEAWjzPHPb8PEBXDweSfhGC7z0jGrn5PhntBeS9N-lhnaUd4JOUq0-QjFJk0lNZi3ZTjBgnekeZVqkBfs=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Remember when you were a kid and you found a turtle or baby bird and put it in a box? "Make sure it has breathing holes," somebody would say. "You don't want it to suffocate."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>Harbor Lights Radio</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I started reading, I mean really reading interesting books, when I was around fifteen years old. And it was because my dad, an Assemblies of God missionary turned pastor turned radio evangelist turned Christian college recruiter turned traveling evangelist and back to radio host, had in all his travels accumulated so much religion enhanced self reproach that he ultimately turned himself into a piously glazed vessel of bubbling guilt and shame.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">By all accounts, the God who Reverend Les chose to follow had either repeatedly and purposefully misled him, possibly for sport, or the connection he so desperately sought was nothing more than a black hole of cascading nothingness. The former, though cruel, at least holds an element of playfulness. Alas, o</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">nly the omniscient knows for sure. (contact me)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Reverend Les died quietly of a stroke at age 93 while living in Maranatha Manor, an A/G property located near the fairgrounds in north Springfield next to the now defunct Central Bible Institute. After living his entire adult life ministering in one form or another, he left behind three grown children, a few photo albums and two briefcases full of cassette recordings of his self-produced radio show, <i>Harbor Lights</i>, which was broadcast every Sunday night at 10:00 p.m. on KGBX AM and later on KWFC (Keep Watching For Christ). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">For a span of ten years following a final round of cross country evangelizing, Reverend Les would spend his Sunday mornings, and sometimes into the night up to a final frantic hour before broadcast, recording <i>Harbor Lights</i> on big 3M reels of shiny brown audio tape. He would mutter to himself while searching for songs through stacks of albums. He would write and edit devotionals, rehearse said devotionals, splice like a madman, fading distant surf and buoy bells in & out. The finished product was usually pretty good technically and could pass as syndicated by AM standards of the time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Through the closed studio door, one could hear the melodious tones of Anita Bryant, George Beverly Shea, The Blackwood Brothers and others wafting down the hallway. He loved Negro Spirituals like "Steal Away" and "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child", songs we never sang at Central Assembly (A/G's flagship assemblage, pre megachurch era). The music segued into calming sermonettes and homilies droned out in an overly kind and understanding radio voice that he only used for self-parody in regular life. For its many listeners residing in nursing homes, <i>Harbor Lights </i>was a soothing Christian ASMR. In this regard, Reverend Les was ahead of his time. He would have loved YouTube.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>The Blackout Collection</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">As cool as the studio was, the library full of books on the surrounding walls is the real subject of this little foray into how a 14-15 boy accidentally, or perhaps by divine Guidance, discovered some amazing literature.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The bookshelves made up two full walls in <i>Harbor Lights</i> studio, containing works of all shapes and sizes, hardbound and paperback. Most were religious in nature, Pentecostal and evangelical theorizing on forgiveness, faith, salvation and the like. My attempts to understand the elaborate riddles contained in Christian thought didn't get far. But scattered throughout the collection, in no apparent order, were a dozen or so books with the covers painted black. Now, this was interesting.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The first "black book" I read, and what a doozy first attempt, was <i>Brave New World </i>by Aldous Huxley, which I found incredibly scary but also fascinating. No Christian theorizing here. All citizens of the World State taking varying levels of Soma to complete their days working for the State. Small doses made people feel good. Large doses created hallucinations and timelessness. My first thoughts about drugs started here, not to mention autocracy, now a timely topic.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One could assume that deliberately painting book covers black would imply some kind of pornographic content*. Sadly, this was not the case. These were works from Steinbeck, Huxley, Salinger, Bellow, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, some of the western world's greatest writers. I struggled to understand a lot of it but tore into them anyway. The writing, the language was like an open door to somewhere else, where one could breathe freely and talk openly about anything. I mean anything, real things. Forbidden things.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">(*The closest thing to porn was a thin book entitle <i>Ancient Greek Eroticism</i>, which contained a few graphic line drawings. Had it not been painted black, I would have missed this truly formative experience.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Picture, if you will, the good reverend out in his garage spray painting book covers up against broken down cardboard. This took some time and effort but was a rather clumsy form of censorship, since it had the opposite effect. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">After a child's lifetime filled with eavesdropping on adult dialogue awash in Christian theory and complaint, it was not hard at all to figure out why my true believer father would paint books black. The same intellect that had driven him to enjoy endless theories and interpretations on faith, love and forgiveness also piqued his interest in "worldly" literature. He had a pulse. His curiosity wasn't dead yet. But from his teenage son's point of view, the blackout collection might have just as well been painted day-glow orange.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>Are You Washed In The Blood?</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Any effort put into analyzing the specific behaviors of highly devout Christian men is strictly a fool's game, though sometimes their relentless naked ambition gives them away. Take Josh Hawley, for instance. Please.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">While the irrationality of religious beliefs can be absolutely endearing in the proper context (i.e. when a self-admitted lost soul finds salvation by allowing an imaginary person into their heart, and this simple ritual actually changes their life for the better for a little while), more often these strongly held religious beliefs create a short-cut to self-delusion, guilt and shame. Religion can become the gateway drug to guilt and self-loathing from there. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Reverend Les painted those marvelous books black because he was ashamed that he enjoyed reading them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>Aberrant Behavior</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Aberrant behavior among those who suffer from delusional levels of piety is not a rare thing across the great expanse of the American Bible Belt, of</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> which Springfield is often described as the buckle.</span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: georgia;">(If Springfield isn't the buckle of the Bible Belt, is it not the buckle's frame or perhaps the prong? </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Further, if Springfield is, in fact, the buckle of the Bible Belt, whose pants are being held up? Next topic for Non-Believer Bible Study!)</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Jerry Falwell, founder of Richard Nixon's Moral Majority was the original sinner regarding blending church and state back in the 1970s. Falwell studied at Baptist Bible College on Kearney Street. <br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br />Shyster snake lubricant purveyor, Jim Bakker, creator of PTL Club, was an Assemblies of God preacher who was excommunicated by A/G presbyters to much national coverage right here on Boonville Avenue.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">John Ashcroft, Hillcrest High School's most famous graduate, whose father was president of Evangel University, ordered breasts to be draped on statues at the Department of Justice when he became U.S. Attorney General. <br /><br />Oh, and then there's the pathetically</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> heartbreaking tale of former SMSU university president, Arthur Mallory, an all-around decent fellow who did much to promote public education in Missouri and eventually became the state's Commissioner of Education. While serving as commissioner in 1987, Mallory was caught taking wine bottles from store shelves and taking a swig or two before placing them back on the shelf. He resigned in self-disgrace immediately and sought treatment for a "drinking problem". But was it the drinking? Jesus turned water into wine, which strongly implies He sanctions its consumption. No, it wasn't the drinking.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And, of course, there's the amazing story of Tim Carpenter - Family Living Assistant Pastor from James River Assemblies of God, now known as James River Church. Tim staged his own violent self-abduction in 1998 that made front page of the News-Leader. Pastor Lindell, who still presides over the megachurch in Ozark, Missouri, led a community-wide search and rescue mission, complete with helicopters, highway signs, prayer groups and press conferences. In the end, it was nothing more than your garden variety evangelical husband covering up a covert affair and not having the guts to ask for a divorce.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Local police never bought Pastor Lindell's public relations campaign and eventually tracked Carpenter down in Memphis, Tennessee, where he had taken a job at a building supply store and had rented an apartment. You can read the whole story here: <a href="https://ozarksangel.blogspot.com/2005/07/self-abduction-of-tim-carpenter.html">https://ozarksangel.blogspot.com/2005/07/self-abduction-of-tim-carpenter.html</a></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>Breathing Holes</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One must recognize that there are, at any given time but especially now, an abundance of tortured souls struggling to find a secure place in a spectacularly over-stimulated world of joy and cruelty, heartbreak and exultation, death and destruction. For those that can afford it, employing a life coach or counselor is an option. For others, a well timed Xanax (Soma) does the trick. For many, religion is worth a shot, though history shows that religion causes as much widespread suffering as it alleviates.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Reverend Les</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> certainly repressed the usual things Christian men tend to stifle, and we can only imagine how this struggle played out for his long-suffering wife. He did at least allow himself his personal blackout collection of "worldly" literature. Yes, it's kind of pathetic, but maybe those amazing books served as his breathing holes. They certainly were for his son.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-53532368959185041292021-12-21T17:26:00.010-06:002022-05-23T16:23:45.179-05:00A Quick History of Teacher Unions in Missouri<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">A lot of people have been asking about Missouri teacher unions and why they seem invisible during these times when schools are under siege by our completely disconnected ruling political party. </span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">There are three teacher associations in Missouri. Two of them are unions, and one is an association. They all sell cheap liability insurance. Unions represent employee groups with the aim of creating a written Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA), which determines compensation and working conditions for employees.</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuveIkavKLnIEBA57thsw3X1erwHlQ9ZLR2hestKnLcN7oSizDaZGRYV1QcyY8RsGA8Pk_Nc9EAZ9kWQxXSKgL13Wf3-6xCY4DJMmng-Ojtpyo-0890xUs3M8q7XY80cfbLAyHWtPySkcEEAOk3NHt0XX15maSUNkRID49XcLJOGek0ugGlik=s400" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuveIkavKLnIEBA57thsw3X1erwHlQ9ZLR2hestKnLcN7oSizDaZGRYV1QcyY8RsGA8Pk_Nc9EAZ9kWQxXSKgL13Wf3-6xCY4DJMmng-Ojtpyo-0890xUs3M8q7XY80cfbLAyHWtPySkcEEAOk3NHt0XX15maSUNkRID49XcLJOGek0ugGlik=w110-h110" width="110" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFKYlNGgH8JlJagIY9w1y6C7vhclEW_ITS2nZDX0qVCwj6WuH6jjn0nA95OwbtVRmscaNz9FRXdQtHj-b9ci-mhk8B4yyuQdujZOOFBnJKvqlAFKu8I3aciWxffxYWpFVtzo37QLbc-0FlDpIAYRcePATAmZKE5i7Op1pHPWPtp8xegHLf6A8=s281" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="281" height="87" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFKYlNGgH8JlJagIY9w1y6C7vhclEW_ITS2nZDX0qVCwj6WuH6jjn0nA95OwbtVRmscaNz9FRXdQtHj-b9ci-mhk8B4yyuQdujZOOFBnJKvqlAFKu8I3aciWxffxYWpFVtzo37QLbc-0FlDpIAYRcePATAmZKE5i7Op1pHPWPtp8xegHLf6A8=w136-h87" width="136" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg97CyeswoYKNvq4mro-uYd8PwRJI-iuKwe2LSBhBgEGGO95jsee73sflXDbQYq28BIrVG2DDUVJo5GBpVVUt6rPVC_YU0ZhVtv2AnODSFfpmtEYYglS_TxIZDkHPEwnipEvO9tr394Itm3MXKpOVcvwN7xM8FV6ocjoe4eSNDxTZectf9-CLM=s164" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="131" data-original-width="164" height="101" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg97CyeswoYKNvq4mro-uYd8PwRJI-iuKwe2LSBhBgEGGO95jsee73sflXDbQYq28BIrVG2DDUVJo5GBpVVUt6rPVC_YU0ZhVtv2AnODSFfpmtEYYglS_TxIZDkHPEwnipEvO9tr394Itm3MXKpOVcvwN7xM8FV6ocjoe4eSNDxTZectf9-CLM=w126-h101" width="126" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Last time I checked, teachers in metro districts of St. Louis and Kansas City belong to the American Federation of Teachers (AFT). AFT has a national presence and an active, outspoken leader in Randi Weingarten. When you hear about teachers striking in Chicago and elsewhere, it's usually AFT.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">To the overall detriment of teacher representation in the state, Missouri State Teachers Association (MSTA) and Missouri National Education Association (MNEA) actively compete for memberships outside of the two major metro districts. <br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">What's the difference between MSTA and MNEA?</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">This is where it's hard to be objective as a former MNEA member. A lot of people don't realize MSTA was a charter member of NEA way back in the 1850's, when teacher groups from all over came together in Philadelphia to form what became the NEA, to promote public education nationwide.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Sometime in the early 1970s, a large faction of MSTA objected to sending dues to their national association, the NEA, and divorce proceedings between MSTA and a newly formed MNEA ensued. The split was settled in 1973. MSTA kept the name, the nice home in Columbia, the getaway resort on Jack's Fork river, while the MNEA retained the affiliation to NEA. (I don't know who negotiated this deal, but MNEA should get its money back.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">From 1973, MNEA began to rapidly grow with charter locals popping up in St. Louis and Kansas City suburban districts, as well as Springfield and Columbia. From the beginning, The new MNEA tended to be the more activist organization than the old MSTA.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Politically, the two associations differ a great deal, though they do come together when the state legislature or Rex Sinquefield or some half-ass GOP functionary comes up with an ingenious plan to end teacher tenure, privatize schools or maybe even endanger the health of students and teachers during a pandemic. Too much to hope for? Probably.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">MSTA is the more "conservative" organization and is dominant in rural Missouri. For example, when NEA members voted to support Roe vs Wade, MSTA used that as a membership campaign. One example of how they differ is that regional universities like Evangel, Southwest Baptist or College of the Ozarks promote MSTA membership to their education majors. NEA is not allowed on these campuses, as far as I know. Here's another example of how they differ:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">In the early 2000s, a new superintendent in the Independence school district threw out the teachers' written employment agreement, which functioned as a CBA. The district argued that teachers had no right to bargain collectively, so the agreement was meaningless. </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">MNEA attorneys filed a lawsuit against the school district of Independence, claiming that the state constitution provided collective bargaining rights to all employees. MSTA disagreed and filed an amicus brief, siding with the Independence district. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">In 2007, the Missouri Supreme Court ruled that Missouri teachers did indeed have a constitutional right to bargain collectively through a representative of their own choosing. MNEA won. MSTA lost. MSTA later issued statements that they had somehow endorsed bargaining rights for teachers all along. To this date, MSTA has never bargained a teacher contract in any Missouri district.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Even with the Supreme Court win, the state still had no law providing guidance for teachers to select a bargaining representative. The Missouri State Board of Mediation covered such elections for all other employee groups but didn't cover teachers. Besides, the Republican governor (Roy Blunt's son) had gutted the board of mediation, so it couldn't do much anyway. So, Springfield NEA (SNEA) presented a petition to the school board in 2008, signed by 1,100 teachers, to hold a representation election anyway.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The school board and administration were none too keen with this situation and advised that the teachers should wait until the GOP-led legislature provided a new law regarding teacher representation and collective bargaining. Fourteen years later there still is no such law.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The Missouri School Board Association, with obvious input from MSTA attorneys, came up with a couple of new school board policies that would "sort of" follow National Labor Relations Board and Missouri Board of Mediation practices but with a twist that would allow for joint representation between MSTA and SNEA via a confusing two-part election process. Springfield teachers shot this notion down in election #1 in late 2008, and elected SNEA as their representative in election #2. SNEA has been bargaining contracts for teachers since 2009.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">To this day MSTA is more anti-NEA than they are pro-teacher, as far as I can tell. MNEA has its own problems trying to be an advocate for teacher rights while tiptoeing around certain issues for fear of pushing "conservative" members toward MSTA, which is all too eager to raid their membership. So, when people ask why teacher unions in Missouri seem so meek and invisible, it's because there is a lack of unity, and a resulting lack of power. It's a microcosm of the political malaise that surrounds us, and it's a damn shame for public school teachers.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-69344319022090581812021-12-06T13:14:00.005-06:002022-07-05T09:30:32.567-05:00Growing Up in 1960's SGF (Ep. 1) - Baseball, God, Evangel<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am 70 years old, having just recently achieved this status. Yes, I'm aging. So are you, by the way. But my skin has turned to crepe paper, and I find myself saying "when I was a kid" a lot. My parents used to tell me about how hard life was during the depression. By contrast, my kids hear how good is was during the 50s and 60s. Such is life in the here and now. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So, I looked up Springfield, Missouri 1961 just for fun, and Google shows me a random picture of Katz Department Store on Glenstone. I used to buy albums there. Maybe it was a Cranks or Osco by then, but I recall purchasing the very first Grateful Dead album there. Hippies were kind of scary to me at the time, but I later learned to love them. In any case, the old Katz store is now vacant, which is pretty much how it was during its most recent incarnation as a CVS.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiztcOBG4yRooaOfOW1cOnDF8ySoNopy9K2OeeTeS_VntGA24ue-VF8rguSAdjPSKfA5rVWH1S0lh-pHKziDK9T5DyrjJ_7KwT49cqyYfWYSD_YuVvComsRzm16vlkK_d0HVr1OkHatpt020Bdq02vr5DrNJLD-lawH4e9K4SLvb361EOzSVCM=s245" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="245" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiztcOBG4yRooaOfOW1cOnDF8ySoNopy9K2OeeTeS_VntGA24ue-VF8rguSAdjPSKfA5rVWH1S0lh-pHKziDK9T5DyrjJ_7KwT49cqyYfWYSD_YuVvComsRzm16vlkK_d0HVr1OkHatpt020Bdq02vr5DrNJLD-lawH4e9K4SLvb361EOzSVCM" width="245" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Growing Up In Springfield</b>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For some reason, the prevailing image of my boyhood during the early 60s in Springfield is playing little league baseball games at Harry Carr Park, near the corner of Fort & Grand. The Children's Home, as it was called, once occupied that spot. The Children's Home was a much smaller building than the current Great Circle campus, which currently occupies that space and beyond. Great Circle is a non-profit Behavior Health Provider, which now serves 40,000 kids on campuses across Missouri. In 1961, there was no need to accommodate such numbers of discarded children. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Harry Carr Park, named after a former mayor, was a wide open space that took up most of a city block. There were no fences. Hit a ball past the outfielder and take off, which I remember doing several times. A pair of small wooden bleachers were behind home plate facing southeast. Games were played in early evening, and I distinctly remember a backdrop of beautiful sunsets from my shortstop's view.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I also retain the delicious olfactory memory of newly mowed grass blending with wafts of cigarette and cigar smoke. In 1961, the local Kiwanis Club sponsored little league baseball all across the city in every park. I played multiple games at Silver Springs, Grant Beach, Fassnight, Doling and Smith Park, all of which were nicely manicured with neatly striped baselines and equipped with real umpires in full gear.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">To me, it was like the big leagues, traveling around town playing at different parks. The Kiwanis Club provided t-shirts. And if you weren't lucky enough to be on a fully sponsored team with cool uniforms, you could sign up to be placed on a team at the Park Board.</span></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Pre-Springfield</span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For a minute, let's go back to 1947. My age at the time was -4. My Canadian parents, having been called of God to the mission field, moved their young family of five from Toronto, Canada to mainland China, near Canton. Along with the rest of their Pentecostal friends, they were earnestly unaware of the political situation in China. Within two years, fearing for their lives, they would summarily be kicked out, as the new Communist regime of Mao Zedong swept to power.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Either God didn't see that coming, or it was just a bad connection, perhaps a test of faith. Who knows? People who are called of God spend a lot of time discussing such things among themselves because it happens all the time. Undaunted, the family returned to Toronto, where Dad cobbled something together as a singing radio evangelist. This was the context in which I took that dangerous passage into the world 70 years ago. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When I was three years old, God once again interrupted our lives to call the paterfamilias to Springfield, Missouri in order to join up with the Assemblies of God movement. They called it a movement at the time, as they were literally setting up shop to save the world. My parents were both ordained ministers. My mom was typically the church pianist and never actually gave a sermon, though she did write Sunday School lesson plans and little daily devotion books for many years.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The reverence my father had for leaders of the A/G "movement" was puzzling to me. The General Superintendent. The Head of Home Missions. I still remember their names. Live radio shows were broadcast every Sunday night from inside Headquarters, which is what Dad always called the Assemblies of God building on Division & Boonville. He was super creative, loved a crowd and had visions of Godly fame dancing in his head. Alas, those visions never came to fruition on a scale he had envisioned. Looking back, I think he probably would have been happier in the entertainment industry.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Lord's plans for my dad at A/G Headquarters didn't pan out as expected. A year later, he was called by God to Southern California to work for a radio evangelist, who, shockingly enough, turned out to be a complete shyster. Dad was appalled to be complicit in bilking money from old people. I have few memories of North Hollywood. I learned the word smog. But dad moved the whole family of six back to smogless Springfield a year later, slightly humbled but still pious enough to rejoin the movement, albeit with a lesser job. Lord's will? It seemed God kept sending Dad off on missions that didn't work out for him, but who's to question? Mysterious ways, right? At least He wasn't suggesting he could murder his son, for which I am grateful.</span></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Back to baseball</span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">To summarize, I grew up in an extremely religious Canadian family in the Queen City of the Ozarks. My dad, who was born in England, didn't understand baseball. He really didn't want to. Rounders was the game he understood, which, conversely, I had no interest in learning. Who plays rounders? As far as I could tell, baseball was the most perfect game. Unfortunately, I found my dad to be an annoying fan on the occasions he would stay for my games, and I found it baffling how many people seemed to enjoy his company. He was the kind of guy that needed an audience, and regular Ozarker men of his generation didn't quite know what to make of him. You couldn't always tell why they were laughing, and he didn't seem to care.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Up until I hit the bigtime little league at Harry Carr Park, most of my baseball was played on the playgrounds at Mark Twain Elementary school and at a big open field just west of South Haven Baptist Church. Kids would play pickup games back then, and even school recess always started with picking captains and choosing teams. Sometimes the teacher would be the "Steady Pitcher". If we didn't have enough for a full game, we'd play Fly Knocker or 500 or Indian Ball, invented variations that usually involved chasing batted balls and arguing over rules.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I was always the teacher's pet in elementary school. It was probably the worst epithet I endured, which isn't too bad by today's standards. I was smallish, quiet, polite and spoke a more proper form of Canadian English than most of my classmates. Words like "house", "about", "sorry" always drew comments. But I never felt ostracized or bullied by my classmates. All my friends moms loved me, which is always a good thing.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When my playground friends asked me to try out for their baseball team, the Yellowjackets, I was pretty excited. This was a team with very cool black and yellow uniforms, black hats, yellow bills. They were really good and almost always won their age group. My friends' dads were the coaches and wore the same hats, very cool.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Tryouts at East Nichols Park on a Saturday, and I never really heard why I didn't make the team. Not to brag, but I could hit, pitch and outrun just about everybody. Maybe dad talked to the coaches too long. In the end, I didn't care that much. I signed up at the Park Board and got on a team that was coached by a couple of Evangel College students, probably as part of a college PE class, but they were into it. The Falcons. White hats, red bills, emblem of swooping Falcon with menacing talons. We bought our own baseball pants or wore jeans.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Falcons were quite a ragtag bunch, very much a local version of Sandlot. Poor kids, kids like me who didn't have connections, one Hispanic kid, Jaimie, who everybody called Jamie. We only played one year because our coaches graduated and moved back to Michigan and Illinois. At that time, most Evangel students came from out of state. We practiced at Smith Park, and often hung around Evangel's campus, which was a bunch of old army barracks with faded asbestos siding.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhutxmeiJgqZcvy9CQGMD3XdCUIjsWvM3wpyRGjercxoSNSAS7D9Ru5odnlgTvgAFT2PhBmIDsFwp57L8RnlKE1suqm72kkEvCbzXoKV7SXkFnOrzPnmLvzHZvErJ0AtqL7beNImUu-eBV58tYdi1Cs1e7dg-7529l1Ei6MTk6CgXUybLws41o=s760" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="760" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhutxmeiJgqZcvy9CQGMD3XdCUIjsWvM3wpyRGjercxoSNSAS7D9Ru5odnlgTvgAFT2PhBmIDsFwp57L8RnlKE1suqm72kkEvCbzXoKV7SXkFnOrzPnmLvzHZvErJ0AtqL7beNImUu-eBV58tYdi1Cs1e7dg-7529l1Ei6MTk6CgXUybLws41o=s320" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Evangel College 1961</span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Evangel College, where two of my older siblings graduated, was a former US Army hospital that had been gifted to Assemblies of God by the Truman administration for the price of $1. In the 60s Evangel was still a series of incredibly long hallways connecting former hospital rooms and barracks. They had an intramural basketball gymnasium that was so small, the walls served as the out of bounds. It was quaint, and the students seemed to love it there. At the time, Evangel was a bunch of A/G kids, a lot of them pastor's kids, far away from their parents for the very first time. It was probably the wildest school in town, even though you could be expelled if you had the misfortune of being caught going to movies or dances.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Because of the absolute prohibition of all things deemed "worldly" by family and church, I didn't see my first movie until the age of 14. It was "The Great Race", at the Gillioz, with Tony Curtis, a campy movie with villains and heroes. But I was amazed by the sheer magnitude of images and sound and soon placed the value of movie theaters far above church. Oh, it wasn't even close. Alas, my ultra religious upbringing had trained me to be less than forthcoming with my parents. Lucky for me, they had already raised three children and were too tired to closely monitor my comings and goings. I often think of my poor older sisters and what they endured. Thankfully, my parents standards had slipped over the years, and I was the beneficiary.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-3771005760233566262021-07-31T11:49:00.013-05:002021-07-31T11:57:01.229-05:00Southwest Missouri Deep Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMVvcQ5tYk3zuANBT4IJeY0gdnVt7FLy3RXTdDbJsWnceFoCeHtzjNgUjQqZIIMZ1Pp0V6ojFYY-JD42qzo1fC55o7zPVs1CCrRtm5IqeQxDHBJpTScs-wJcCIq4j-j3kutFiqg/s2968/MVIMG_20201008_183831%257E2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1529" data-original-width="2968" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMVvcQ5tYk3zuANBT4IJeY0gdnVt7FLy3RXTdDbJsWnceFoCeHtzjNgUjQqZIIMZ1Pp0V6ojFYY-JD42qzo1fC55o7zPVs1CCrRtm5IqeQxDHBJpTScs-wJcCIq4j-j3kutFiqg/w400-h206/MVIMG_20201008_183831%257E2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span>If you feel compelled to disguise yourself</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in order to do the right thing</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Consider </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You may have been doing</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">the wrong thing</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">up to that point</span></p><span class="r-18u37iz" face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="-webkit-box-direction: normal; -webkit-box-orient: horizontal; background-color: #15202b; color: white; flex-direction: row; font-size: 23px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-9477623649029972152021-07-28T17:07:00.007-05:002021-08-30T14:23:34.901-05:00Angry Lambs<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">A virus has somehow recruited humans</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">To aid conversion of more hosts</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Now they all lined up</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For an unhinged carnival ride</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">& final altar call</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Without one plea</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">#SavetheSaved</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-56037682623937732022021-04-26T22:25:00.005-05:002021-08-21T15:10:45.048-05:00Prophecy #3 - Jesus, Mary Magdalene & Lifelong Learning<p><b>On Prophecy & Lifelong Learning</b></p><p>Prophets are pretty common, though most don't realize their status or potential. An advanced prophet, my term, is highly skilled at paying attention and learning. I'd say prophets are "lifelong" learners, but the term has been ruined by well-meaning public school officials, bless their hearts, always seeking new language to say the same things over and over again. (Meanwhile, kids learn.)</p><p>God says that once you stop being a lifelong learner, you're dead. Until then, you're at least learning about what dying feels like.</p><p>As if to prove me not dead yet, God recently revealed some amazing passages in the Gnostic Gospels. Fifty-two of these books, written on papyrus in Greek and bound in leather, were hidden in large clay pots found in remote caves somewhere in Upper Egypt. These books were written at about the same time that Mathew, Mark, Luke and John were circulating through a fragmented early church. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nag_Hammadi_library" target="_blank">The Gnostic Gospels of Nag Hammadi were discovered in 1945</a>.</p><p>Of course, the ruling patriarchy accepted Christianity only after they figured out how to use it for control as they continued the eternal quest for wealth & power. It became dangerous for anyone to possess certain "heretical" gospels. One needn't be reminded what happens to heretics once a true religious hegemony comes to power. Thus, the books were stashed away in caves.</p><p><b>Prophetic Warning: Beware of religious hegemony. Starts with a minority and ends with minority rule.</b></p><p>Back to the Gnostic Gospels, which will forever be included in my own lifelong personal Bible.</p><p>Here's a poem from what sounds a lot like a female deity, unnamed - from Gnostic text, <i>Thunder, Perfect Mind </i>(0-200 AD)<br /><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For I am the first and the last.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the honored one and the scorned one.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the whore and the holy one.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the wife and the virgin . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the barren one,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> and many are her sons . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the silence that is incomprehensible . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the utterance of my name.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Mary Magdalene</b></p><p>Was the poem written by Magdalene? <a href="http://gnosis.org/naghamm/gop.html">The Gospel of Philip</a> tells us that Mary Magdalene, who is referred to as his companion, was clearly one of the disciples. The others become would become jealous when Jesus kissed her in front of them and would complain to Jesus that he loved her more. And lo, Jesus says, I'm paraphrasing, answered, "You want me to love you like I love her?" I hear an unspoken, "Really?", but that's open to interpretation.</p><p>Of course, this is my own interpretation. I'm no theologian. I can tell you that God has never condemned the Gnostic Gospels, nor has He questioned their relevance or authenticity. I find them strangely reassuring. A bunch of old church elders declared them heretical, not God.</p><p>I'll leave you with this gem from the Gospel of Thomas:</p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Jesus said, "Know what is before your face, and what is hidden from you will be revealed to you."</span> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-48847510346556421042021-03-14T15:24:00.005-05:002021-06-27T14:06:46.021-05:00Variation on Revelation, Female Deity<p> </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For I am the first and the last.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the honored one and the scorned one.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the whore and the holy one.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the wife and the virgin . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the barren one,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> and many are her sons . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the silence that is incomprehensible . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am the utterance of my name.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">from Gnostic text, <i>Thunder, Perfect Mind </i>(0-200 AD)</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-28687936395450792242021-02-22T19:47:00.012-06:002022-08-04T15:28:19.950-05:00Story Cube Prophecies<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>Story Cube Prophecies</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">This evening's moon crosses the sky in a Waxing Gibbous phase, more than half but less than full. In 29.531 days, it will return to this phase again. If one were to seek a spiritual meaning for such a moon, one could learn that this is a phase for attention to detail, tweaking of one's life a bit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Speaking of moon phases, specifically the waning phase . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I retired right before the pandemic. So, hey, Happy Days! It's okay, though, given our shared harsh realities, it's probably the best way to get through a plague. Provided there's enough scratch coming in to pay for a place. Which, praise be, there is at this moment in time. The whole concept of retirement is laughable to God, I'm sure. No, I'm sure. He told me.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonma1YXAsIn-oCoRYt9XWdSk3wZeGcUSY9RhmQxlsK2NVK01xt4Ak578XgJkkJ1W8Ui9csq2gRlUTJvUWpQLSiRrlm8zHGkq9DdLKbMexEGNHPGZE0Q1D632MDe_3vp7yC2gqcA/s4032/PXL_20201119_144516686.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonma1YXAsIn-oCoRYt9XWdSk3wZeGcUSY9RhmQxlsK2NVK01xt4Ak578XgJkkJ1W8Ui9csq2gRlUTJvUWpQLSiRrlm8zHGkq9DdLKbMexEGNHPGZE0Q1D632MDe_3vp7yC2gqcA/w535-h253/PXL_20201119_144516686.MP.jpg" width="535" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">James River, southeast Springfield</div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Prophesy: God says there are two ways humans think about their lives. There are those whose lives revolve around the idea that they are living <i>on</i> the Earth, and those living with the knowledge that they are <i>of</i> the Earth. Religion for "on the earth" people is all about consumption & seeking temporal gains. Religion for those "of the earth" is more about recognizing beauty in nature. One worships greed & wealth, the other art & nature. Any overlap is strictly superficial. Humans are the only species with this dual view of life, as far anybody knows.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">That may be the only thing that makes us special, except . . . well, science. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I've already deleted a complete paragraph about American politics. Poof! You're welcome. Wasn't worth describing something so pathetically obvious to so many. And there are people who can deliver it better . . . without the profanity. But there's this tidbit.</span></p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Prophesy: Josh Hawley, in his later years, will wear a cape but will struggle to find a walking cane to his liking. He will come to resemble a shriveled vampire. His associates will call him "Vlad" behind his back. He will never live in Missouri.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">It's not much, but I had to get it out.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">On that note, tonight's prophecy is complete. I'm going outside now to take a shot of the Waxing Gibbous and post it as a parting gift of love to all of my fellow humans who know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are <i>of the earth.</i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-3hmhXtF3VA9wMVJr4TdrBg_B6E1ZjXXhAp8fYtmQCjzfytqBi3SIdiXvuU9tf5-5JKVMjjLDKqyL9_0a_LbvlUn3BzIcERhlTtSoKKJcXnqUymhvZiFYOrlw6n4BvtsTyLuag/s2296/PXL_20210223_011208226.NIGHT%257E2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1820" data-original-width="2296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-3hmhXtF3VA9wMVJr4TdrBg_B6E1ZjXXhAp8fYtmQCjzfytqBi3SIdiXvuU9tf5-5JKVMjjLDKqyL9_0a_LbvlUn3BzIcERhlTtSoKKJcXnqUymhvZiFYOrlw6n4BvtsTyLuag/s320/PXL_20210223_011208226.NIGHT%257E2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Here's a prophecy from July 2019. God told me it was too long. Of course, She's right. <a href="https://ozarksangel.blogspot.com/2019/07/word-from-prophet-of-god.html">https://ozarksangel.blogspot.com/2019/07/word-from-prophet-of-god.html</a></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-33021627368288234332020-10-21T11:37:00.008-05:002021-06-27T14:05:04.952-05:00Pandemic Journal #2<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiESIGcwcDj3V_AKhPG-DWgODx8-nB0OYGEzFoI4prz7ANGCDVg0zYQF0qlZHFClLbrazD6b4c9haSUCpF7fVrXEvI3d7qyOxPyiaLXVOEljwEdzJVqTkBmjY3-nsgwt6Vxs7-7w/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="299" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiESIGcwcDj3V_AKhPG-DWgODx8-nB0OYGEzFoI4prz7ANGCDVg0zYQF0qlZHFClLbrazD6b4c9haSUCpF7fVrXEvI3d7qyOxPyiaLXVOEljwEdzJVqTkBmjY3-nsgwt6Vxs7-7w/" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>I set up this title, Pandemic Journal #2, weeks and weeks ago. I thought these uniquely dystopian times should be documented in some personal way. Then, weeks passed. Six months passed. I made up some songs, a couple of poems, cooked a lot, planted a garden, researched stuff, harvested a garden, walked in the woods, talked with people I love, kept my distance. Outside of my little world, the situation worsened.<div><br /></div><div>In April 2019, a year before Covid-19 descended upon us, I said this in a post called <a href="https://ozarksangel.blogspot.com/2019/04/emergencies-evangelicals-saluting-troops.html" target="_blank">Emergencies, Evangelicals & Saluting the Troops</a>:</div><div><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><div style="text-align: left;">Imagine an asteroid or small planet hitting the earth, causing widespread tidal waves stories high. Would people be brought together? Would they compete? Care for each other? Would government be a help to people, or would leaders take advantage of the chaos to achieve maximum wealth accumulation and control?</div></div></blockquote><div><div><br /></div><div>A worldwide plague wasn't on my list of disaster scenarios. I probably had too much faith in modern medicine, having grown up in the days when diseases like polio and smallpox were defeated. Plagues were for Dark Ages, or at least pre smart phone. But then, there is still no cure for cancer, and it's fair to say cancer is an epidemic. Everybody has been touched by cancer in some way. Now, it seems certain, due to lack of leadership and a bewildering absence of community cohesion, Covid-19 will affect virtually everyone before it's contained, whenever that may be. We all will know someone who contracted Covid-19, just like cancer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Since I do live in Springfield, Missouri, which I sometimes refer to as Pleasantville, the expected response from community leaders is . . . to dodge accountability. Follow the governor, CDC, County Health, all of which are, in turn, following their best instincts to avoid accountability? The only leader in the entire community, one who is at least attempting to fill the void, is a hospital CEO. The bodies are accumulating, folks. I'm sure he's being serreptitiously thanked by the aforementioned cowards, who eagerly sought leadership roles they weren't capable of filling. To them I can only offer a heartfelt Fuck You!, as they contort themselves to accommodate a non-existent balance between science and political/religious delusion. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks to the absolutely clueless moral & ethical black hole that is Donald Trump, the ornate facade covering American exceptionalism and the Republican Party has been unceremoniously ripped away like a bandage covering gangrenous flesh. Americans, still using a strange electoral system bent to favor former slave owners, somehow elected an international patsy, useful to international crime bosses for money laundering and fraud. He is now commander-in-chief of the greatest military power and largest economy on earth. This while being manipulated by these same crime bosses, who are much smarter and wealthier sociopaths than DT. They seek unchallenged world domination. It's very much like a bad James Bond movie, where we're all extras with no control over script edits.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't watch doomsday movies as a rule, but images from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melancholia_(2011_film)" target="_blank">"Melancholia" (2011)</a>, where the Earth was threatened by a rogue planet, keep bubbling into my dreams and consciousness.</div><div><br /></div><div>As Melancholia approaches Earth, no leaders rise to the occasion. Nobody rallies the people together. News reports casually deny any danger. Resume your normal life. It will disappear. Meanwhile, disaster capitalists plot their strategies, because that's what they do. Is it realistic how existentially vacant life had become for these characters? One still aggressively plans a clever ad campaign. Another, who knows the Earth is doomed, releases his stable of beautiful thoroughbreds to graze on a nearby golf course.</div><div><br /></div><div>[Spoiler: Earth was blown to bits in a white hot moment of interplanetary impact. Everybody perishes. All life on Earth was erased within seconds, along with any human record that it had ever existed. The screen goes dark. After a pause, movie credits scroll.]</div><div><br /></div><div>As a fractured society divided by greed, competing culture religions and almost comical misinformation campaigns, it seems we grapple with alternating currents of human frailty and resilience during the Great Coronavirus Pandemic of 2020. There is no script, no scrolling line of credits to assure us it's fiction. Because it's not. We witness, together and separately, the outrageous and relentless unraveling of the greatest civilization in human history. </div><div><br /></div><div>But there is hope. Right? Of course there is. There has to be.</div><div><br /></div><div>It may sound absolutely heretical to say out loud, especially as a resident of Pleasantville, but Covid-19 may be this country's last best hope for systemic change. Covid-19 has exposed our collective wounds for all to see. An election may treat a few symptoms. At least it's a rallying point. At best, it may be the start of a new healing regimen. The rest is on us.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-39997540628304086322020-09-24T13:30:00.001-05:002021-06-27T13:49:10.277-05:00Ordinary Tale #1 24Sept2020<h3 style="text-align: left;"> Ordinary Tale</h3><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">September 24, 2020</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Aldi today, guy reaches by me for milk, no mask.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Me: Well, aren't you special!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">What?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">No mask</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I don't wear one</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Incredibly inconsiderate of you</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">If you look at the science . . .</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">No! </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Don't need that bullshit today</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">So tired</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-61174279278897195512020-09-01T14:43:00.010-05:002020-09-06T11:32:02.542-05:00George Wallace Comes to Springfield - 13 Sept 1968<div class="separator"><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The Governor's Race That Made George Wallace a Hardline Segregationist | Literary Hub" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></div></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">On Thursday, September 12, 1968, George Wallace and his third-party campaign for president arrived in Springfield to hold a rally on the public square in front of Heer's department store. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Just a few months earlier, civil rights leader Martin Luther King and leading democratic presidential candidate, Bobby Kennedy, had been murdered. Until 2020, 1968 had been the most dangerous and turbulent year of my life. </span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">In September 1968, the most important election of my young life was less than two months away. Voting age was 21 at the time, and I was a 17 year-old senior in high school. But I was already a political junkie living in a totally apolitical family. (Maybe it was that 4th grade report on Thomas Jefferson, have no idea.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The 1968 election would be the first presidential election after the Voting Rights Act (1965), so there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon through the despair of living through the killings of MLK & RFK. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I was also very concerned for my own personal well-being. Older friends had already been drafted and sent to Vietnam for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to die for their country for no apparent reason, the first war in a pattern that has continued almost uninterrupted to this day. Like one of my living heroes, Mohammed Ali, had said a year earlier, I had "no quarrel with those Viet Cong."</span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The fact that George Wallace, avowed racist, hate monger, the man who literally blocked an entrance to black students attempting to enroll at his state university, would come to my town was both a source of dark curiosity and disgust. How would he be received here? Would there be protesters? My friend, Kevin, and I made sure there would be at least two. We found a piece of leftover white cardboard and fashioned a sign using red magic marker that simply read: "Racist!".</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'm pretty sure we skipped school that Thursday. That's a fair guess because, by senior year, I considered attendance optional. We were making our own civics lesson and arrived early to get a spot close to the flatbed trailer stage. We were relieved to see other protesters, but a few dozen protesters were eventually drowned out by a throng that police chief, Sam Robards, estimated to be between 12,000-15,000. It was the largest political crowd he had seen on the square in his 33 years on the force, according to the Springfield Daily News report. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">(At this time, Springfield had both morning and evening editions. Daily News was a.m. News-Leader was evening edition. At least three reporters and a photographer covered the event.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Police, sheriff's deputies, state patrol and secret service were visible throughout the square and on top of buildings. Reporting of the event was somewhat carefully worded by 1968 Springfield standards. Here's one account beneath a large photo:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">"The jaunty candidate from Alabama rapped out his message in fiery bursts, punctuated by cheers and yells. A country band had the crowd warmed into a foot stomping hand-clapping mood . . . Pretty Wallace Girls carrying plastic buckets moved among the people collecting money for the campaign."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Wallace began his speech with a tried and true demagogue/populist message that now, 52 years later, is all too familiar. Daily News:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Wallace was wildly cheered by the crowd for his jabs against newsmen, professors, pseudo-intellectuals and bureaucrats." He also spoke of "ultra-liberals" seeking to desegregate schools and "kowtow to anarchists who roam the streets". He continued, "If it weren't for these firemen and policemen, we wouldn't be here today - you or I - we might well have been mugged or gunned down."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The newspaper report also acknowledged protesters, who raised signs reading "Racist", "Wallace Hates", "One Hitler Was Enough".</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">And there was this: "Black students, calling themselves Afro-Americans, mostly from Southwest Missouri State College, felt otherwise about Wallace. About 33 Negroes showed up with signs and sentiment opposing the candidate," the Daily News reported. They marched in peaceful demonstration. A spokesman said, "We recognize Mr. Wallace's freedom of speech. We also recognize our right of assembly. We are here to . . voice our discontent and opposition at the presence of a man whose racist platform is detrimental to humanity and would jeopardize the safety and security of this community and nation."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Black protesters in attendance noted that they were not a part of the local NAACP, which had decided not to have a contingent at the rally. One young Black woman said, "As elder members of this community, they (NAACP) let us down. We are here to voice our protest and to try to get rid of some of the apathy in Springfield. Springfieldians think we are happy with the way things are. We are not."</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">One woman, most assuredly white because she required no descriptors, offered support for Wallace because he was "a good Christian man". Racism and white Christianity have been dating a long time it appears. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">On election day, Wallace received only 12% of Greene County votes, a number matched by Missouri. Richard Nixon won the county by 20%, the state by 1%.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Nixon eventually won the election, of course, a solid electoral college win but only 500,000 more votes than Hubert Humphrey, a representational disconnect that continues to undermine voters. Wallace received over 9 million votes and won Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Louisiana and Mississippi, as the south made a huge shift away from the democratic party following the Civil Rights Act (1964), Voting Rights Act (1965) and the Fair Housing Act, which had passed the day before Wallace arrived in Springfield.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Wallace ran again in 1972, this time as a democrat, but was shot during a primary election rally in Maryland. He was paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. The day after being shot, he won primary victories in Maryland and Michigan. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-24436762058775570122020-08-17T15:33:00.007-05:002020-08-17T21:06:09.669-05:00Difficult Times, Difficult Decisions<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOm3fLg8wJKjNOmwcnJAGqHbN0xfziffU6tBfVWF27QeAy-UG2w6vmrDzoZABWBw52jEl_RFHmobesjeuH1kfpJGrhIDIXViKLzD7eb69kTtXsrVwUbtbIDjfLPA2cWmBel1FHA/s2048/spslogo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1876" data-original-width="2048" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbOm3fLg8wJKjNOmwcnJAGqHbN0xfziffU6tBfVWF27QeAy-UG2w6vmrDzoZABWBw52jEl_RFHmobesjeuH1kfpJGrhIDIXViKLzD7eb69kTtXsrVwUbtbIDjfLPA2cWmBel1FHA/w512-h469/spslogo.jpg" width="512" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Okay, let's start by saying that every decision, even how to approach a visit to the grocery store, is more difficult during these days of community spread. And we've been reminded of this innumerable times by civic leaders, real leaders and those posing as such. These are hard decisions. So hard. Nobody can dispute that.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">If we've learned anything, we know there is no easy out when dealing with a highly contagious virus. Political posturing is lost on Covid-19. But by magnifying the difficulty of a decision, we also construct a hedge for making the wrong decision. It becomes exponentially more important to make every effort to turn a difficult decision-making process into the right decision.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Some wrong decisions are minimal, i.e. installing a "learning initiative" that doesn't work and is nearly impossible to implement. Nobody dies. Good teachers can ignore it effectively enough to still teach well. Other wrong decisions, i.e., the Iraq War, leads to hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions of refugees, and ongoing wars that kill and maim young people for generations.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">If nothing else, can we agree that difficult decisions regarding the health, safety and the potential for suffering and death should be a top priority to get right the first time? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Leaders often emerge during trying times, and not always from expected sources. A CEO at one of Springfield's big hospitals, for example, has been an amazing source of information and encouragement for the community. City Council overcame a virtual congregation of weirdos and miscreants, all spouting strange ideas about personal freedoms and demonic influences, before finally making the difficult decision to enact a mask ordinance. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Unfortunately, other civic leaders have equivocated, cited tilted surveys and attempted to find a non-existent sweet spot between medical science and political crackpottery, always a precursor to a terrible decision. In my opinion, this is what Springfield's school leaders have done.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We all know by now, public schools have become the magical balm for every societal affliction, be it poverty, nutritional deficiencies, lack of health care, or lack of affordable childcare. The existing political/economic system that exponentially multiplies all these deficiencies is seldom, if ever, held accountable. It's a wicked chain reaction that is dumped on administrators, teachers and staff to work through. <br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">(And let's not even talk about how schools are "scored" as educational institutions amid this malaise.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here's the deal. Nobody on Springfield's school board signed up for a leadership role during a once-in-a-lifetime global pandemic that has afflicted millions of American and caused over 170,000 deaths (and counting). This is far beyond their customary role as cheerleaders for their superintendent's amazing educational schematics: to make Springfield Schools the envy of Nixa or Ozark or Willard or some other district that is nothing at all like Springfield.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">When faced with approving a plan to address how to reach/teach 24,000 students during a pandemic, a majority of the school board deferred to their superintendent to come up with a plan. He created a huge committee of 70+ (ever been a member of a huge committee?), ran a plan by them. Approved. No need for a vote from the school board, the superintendent said. We've got this.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">A couple of members, the newest and oldest serving member, registered their surprise at not being involved in perhaps the most important decision the school board has had to make since forever. "I find it odd," said one member. "Me, too," said another. The superintendent, who also doubles as board president, explained dismissively that reopening plans are not considered policy and are therefore not within the school board's purview.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Last week, a group of courageous <a href="https://www.news-leader.com/story/news/education/2020/08/15/springfield-school-district-teacher-letter-classes-in-person/3354805001/">secondary teachers penned a letter to the superintendent</a> citing guidelines from the Center for Disease Control (CDC) and the World Health Organization (WHO), which indicate that the rate of Covid infection in Springfield at this moment is too high for a safe opening of schools. The teachers cited a WHO report that says positive test results should be no higher than 5%. Springfield/Greene County infection rate of those tested is now at 15%. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">For educational leaders who constantly study and refer to data, best practices, etc., reviewing these particular metrics must have seemed like a buzzkill. The district response was nothing more than a meticulously worded kiss-off:</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #303030;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Feedback from families, employees, and community members is especially important to SPS. We welcome engagement and are committed to reflecting upon it, incorporating feedback into our decision-making whenever possible, to benefit all those we serve."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'll conclude by imploring the school board to somehow work around being marginalized by your superintendent and ask some questions during tomorrow's board meeting (8/18/2020, 5:30 p.m.). Maybe some questions about process, procedures, contingencies, staffing, transparency to staff and community would be in order. Is there a threshold regarding rate of infection and/or death related to school opening?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The community needs hard questions to be asked from their elected representatives on the school board precisely because these decisions are hard. This is not the time to outsource decision-making. Lives are at stake.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-78509342566407709482020-07-13T12:33:00.004-05:002021-06-27T13:46:17.260-05:00Atheist<div>
Atheist</div>
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<br /></div>
A small ant,<br />
<div>
halting across an expanse</div>
<div>
of lighted keyboard</div>
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blacking out parts of letters,</div>
<div>
oblivious to search results</div>
<div>
for anything, everything, nothing</div>
<div>
strolls across Delete, Backspace and</div>
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spells out <b>+ - P O L O</b></div>
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before disappearing,</div>
<div>
doesn't think I exist.<br />
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-18055141609199504342020-04-05T14:55:00.001-05:002021-06-27T13:45:41.395-05:00Miasmic PentameterMiasmic Pentameter<br />
(A Pandemic Poem)<br />
<br />
Grocery store especially grim today<br />
Toilet paper gone, no flour<br />
<br />
People are baking and shitting<br />
Like no other time in history<br />
<br />
A crabby ass lady hums a dark psalm<br />
Scouring soup label like scripture<br />
<br />
Finding no quick redemption<br />
She settles for low sodium<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-28434576435727723602020-03-20T17:08:00.002-05:002020-09-06T13:14:44.691-05:00Pandemic JournalMarch 20, 2020<br />
<br />
Last night, I discovered what turned out to be a poor lost soul hiding in my garage. Here I was stuck at home like so many people, trying to adjust to life during a serious pandemic, and feeling slightly edgy with no visible provocation. Just a week earlier a policeman had been shot and killed a half mile away from my house, the first on-duty SPD death since 1932. People, not really knowing how to prepare, have decided that hoarding toilet paper eases their fear, like we're turning into Venezuela or something. At the very least, a lot of people are being forced to take a moment, a day, a week, a month for some serious self-assessment, ready or not.<br />
<br />
I put down the book I was reading, <i>Love in the Time of Cholera</i> (I know), and ventured outside to close the garage doors, as I always do before heading off to bed. The garage is a separate building behind the house that has a small upstairs for storage. The upstairs is where our two indoor/outdoor cats hang out. It's not the best smelling place, but it's become their favorite spot for extensive napping.<br />
<br />
The first thing I noticed as I approached the garage was that my newly installed motion-sensor lights did not come on. I found this mildly disturbing, as they were still new enough for me to muster a bit of consumer satisfaction each time they illuminated the dark spaces. Odd. I waved my hands around like an idiot. Nothing. Was that a cat rustling around upstairs? Then, I noticed that the sensor lights had been unplugged. I quickly plugged them in and went back into the house.<br />
<br />
"Hey, did you unplug the garage light?" I asked my adult daughter, stuck at home with her dad during a pandemic while on hiatus from seasonal work out west.<br />
<br />
"What? No. Why?"<br />
"I think somebody may be upstairs in the garage."<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
I returned to the garage and grabbed a baseball bat from a game tub by the door that contains frisbees, basketballs, old ball gloves. Turns out it was a wiffle ball bat, which wouldn't offer much defense, especially if the garage invader were armed. My mind raced. I stood quietly, wiffle bat in hand, until I heard a slight rustling sound above me. One of the cats, Louie Lamour, intently listened at my feet, tail fluffed. He knew something. I felt that unmistakable metalic rush of adrenaline. Somebody was up there, and I was poised to stun them into submission with blows from a plastic bat.<br />
<br />
"Dude," I yelled. "I know you're up there, and you need to come down," I hadn't really thought about what to say. "If you aren't out of this garage in one-minute, I am calling the cops. Come down and leave. Now!" Silence. Then, he finally spoke just as I turned to go back inside.<br />
<br />
"Can you help me? I need help," he answered in a feeble sounding voice. I was surprised the voice was higher pitched. I had pictured an older homeless person, or a generic, grizzled bad guy of some sort. Wasn't sure what to expect, really.<br />
<br />
"No, I cannot help you," I yelled back. "Come down and maybe you can get some help. Come out of the garage now." No response. So, I went inside, called 911 and stayed on the line. While talking with dispatch, I saw him finally come out and begin walking tentatively, shakily toward my backdoor, arms outstretched as if to show he wasn't armed.<br />
<br />
He was a tall, skinny kid with a buzz cut, wearing dirty, torn jeans. His face was in shadows. At that moment at least three police cars arrived. They had already been called due to reports of gun shots apparently. The kid didn't attempt to run. The officers approached carefully, calmly talking to him. At least one officer had his gun drawn. Within minutes, there were five officers surrounding the kid, and they persuaded him to sit down in one of my patio chairs by the umbrella table. Lights were on him, and I could finally see his face.<br />
<br />
Over the next couple of hours, a group of four or five attending officers listened to a series of implausible tall tales and tried to figure out where they should take him. A couple of officers left for other calls. The kid was frisked, and police found a small knife, a pack of Newport cigarettes and a small amount of cash in his pockets. He told them his phone was still upstairs in the garage. He was trying to find a place to charge it. I went up to the cat haven with the officer to look around. There is absolutely nothing of value up there. They eventually found the phone.<br />
<br />
His first story was that he was being chased by people with knives. Then, it was that his mother had kicked him out of the house. "Wait, okay. I'll be honest," he prefaced each tale. He refused to tell them his name and was overly concerned that the officers knew that he was "of age" to have his Newports. Of course, he wasn't.<br />
<br />
As a former secondary teacher, I knew this kid. Not this individual kid, of course, but so many boys like him who were part of a second generation of lost boys in our town. Lost boys raised, loosely speaking, by lost parents, who depend on grandparents, teachers, counselors and social workers to provide at least an introduction to what might be "normal". In this case, the police were attempting to take that role, and they were exercising a great deal of patience in gently nudging him toward the reality of his current situation. If nothing else, this incident provided some real time insights into their daily work.<br />
<br />
It turns out this kid, who, of course, was given a biblical name by invisible parents, lived with grandparents maybe a half mile away behind the Christian bowling alley. His grandfather had reported him as missing, as he had done many times before, and officers eventually learned his name and called grandpa. As officers attempted to load him in a squad car to take home, it became apparent that he couldn't walk and was getting sick. Eventually, an ambulance arrived, along with the grandfather, and he was taken to Cox Hospital for possible overdose. Grandpa told officers some Percocet was missing from the medicine cabinet. It was after midnight before everybody was gone.<br />
<br />
Of course, all this happened under the pall of a worldwide pandemic that is all too quickly changing the way we view almost everything. I found myself wondering why the police who had frisked, propped up and, for a couple of hours stood well within a foot or two of this young man, were not wearing gloves or taking any apparent precautions.<br />
<br />
And I thought to myself, well, this kid probably didn't fit the profile of a study abroad student just returned from Italy or China, and I was pretty damn sure he was not among those who defied health warnings to worship at the suburban mega-church down the highway (two positive cases so far). Just the same, I kept myself at a distance, as I was trying to train myself to do even with friends and relatives.<br />
<br />
We live in exceptional times, trying times for sure. Lost boys like this probably aren't infected with the virus yet. But by now we should all know that it will be the lost people, the forgotten people at the low end of the social order who will eventually suffer most from this pandemic. It's just a matter of time. And I'm trying not to feel guilty that I didn't help this poor lost boy more than I did.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-14729904024762491552020-02-10T12:19:00.002-06:002021-06-27T13:44:54.443-05:00Street Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Kit laid on her back on a picnic table in hopes of catching the media shower, as she had done so many times as a girl. A spot for deep thoughts. The table rested on a slab of patio just beyond a sliding glass door that separated her from Mom and Dad, who were glued to cable news in the dining room. There had been another bombing. Maybe a shooting. Kit hadn't listen for details.<br />
<br />
She knew her parents were watching interviews with bewildered neighbors (can't believe it happened here), crime scene videos with flashing emergency vehicles, conflicting rumors. Tomorrow they'd watch heart wrenching victim profiles (she was the light of our lives) and, of course, the killer profile (angry, heavily armed white guy).<br />
<br />
She could hear the excited voices of droning doom from her parents' network of choice - the one that stoked fear, patriotism, faith in Jesus, and was sponsored mainly by pharmaceutical companies suggesting a multitude ailments that lurk in their future. Fear brought to you by more fear.<br />
<br />
Kit was straining to see meteors beyond the blue glare of the new streetlight in the far corner of the yard. Goddam streetlight, she muttered.<br />
<br />
The streetlight had been installed, pole and all, over winter break soon after a string of house break-ins and shootings in the neighborhood. This was Dad's tireless explanation to neighbors or anyone who had the misfortune of stepping out onto the patio after dark. The fact that the break-ins and shootings occurred miles away on the west side of town was irrelevant. There were shootings in the news. Mom was scared. So, Dad put up a goddam street light in the alley.<br />
<br />
Planes flew by but no meteors. There was a time when you could spot satellites moving across the sky, probably the same satellites that beamed the television signals that made Mom fearful, she thought. A vicious cycle. Not tonight. No satellites, no meteor shower. The more fearful we become, the less we are able to see in the natural world. File under Picnic Table Deep Thoughts, she smirked. Probably the last.<br />
<br />
A distant flash of lightning briefly lit up the southern sky. Kit started counting. A thousand one, a thousand two all the way to ten. Nothing. No thunder, probably a summer thunderstorm a hundred miles away in north Arkansas, beyond the blinding lights of Branson.<br />
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Branson, Missouri. Christian Las Vegas with no gambling or showgirls, but similarly filled with poor hotel workers, underpaid musicians and washed up celebrities, so washed up you had never even heard of them in the first place. Her parents' favorite date night, Branson. Drawn to light like moths.<br />
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There would be no meteor shower tonight, maybe never again unless somebody shoots out that goddam light, she thought to herself. Mom would freak, would just make things worse. She knew finding her own place was the next big thing after school, somewhere where she could see the stars again.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-40745012947794896392019-10-22T12:27:00.001-05:002019-10-22T12:31:02.775-05:00Bass Pro, Assemblies Announce Merger<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Springfieldian, Volume 1 Number 1, Summer 1992, on early Microsoft Publisher.</span><br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shock waves rolled through Springfield's business community early Monday at the news of a huge, if unlikely, merger of two giant entities, Bass Pro Shops and The International Headquarters of the Assemblies of God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Officials from each organization held a news conference at Hemingway's restaurant. The new religious sporting goods venture, to be named "The International Bassemblies of God", marks an unprecedented merger of Evangelical elements from the former Pentecostal movement with the popular Bass Fishing and Sporting Goods retail industry of the American Midwest and South.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We have seen bass fishing become a regular religious activity for millions of people," said Bassemblies co-owner Ronnie Forrest, "and at the same time, denominations like the Assemblies have become more like big business. By combining our assets and customer bases, we create the potential for unlimited growth, not to mention eternal life for all those Christian fishermen out there."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "It's a logical progression in God's eyes," said </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Assemblies Public Relations Specialist, Julian Turnbridge</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. "</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Bible is full of fish metaphors and stories. In fact, you could say the Bible is one big fish story. There's Jonah, the sermon on the mount with loaves and fishes, and, of course, all of Christ's disciples were bass fishermen. Also, don't forget the Bible clearly states that Jesus was the first man in recorded history to water ski."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The merger of the two local industries will bring some changes to business practices for the Church/Watersports giant, according to Bassemblies Marketing Director, Uncle Buck Swaggert. "We'll soon present new catalog that will include a popular line of Christian Camouflage and a new pontoon boat that will be marketed as Noah's Party Barge."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Other promotions include special discounts for born-again bass fishermen and an annual Fishers of Men travel package that doubles as a missions event. Salvation Stations and Baptism Tanks will be featured in larger stores, and tithes to Bassemblies churches may now be paid by credit card and are exempt from any fees or interest. A sign stating "Over 10 Million Saved" was unveiled during the ceremony.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We're ecstatic," said Forrest of the merger. "It's a combination of Divine Intervention and Free Enterprise. We call it Divine Enterprise. What could be more powerful? And it's all tax exempt. Hallelujah!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Springfieldian (1992-94) was a satirical quarterly that lampooned local politics, religion and other aspects of life in the Queen City of the Ozarks. There were three main contributors who put together nine issues. Springfield Public Libraries has entire collection of original hard copies stored somewhere in Local History archives.</span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-88443304970141430832019-07-21T14:59:00.004-05:002022-06-06T18:17:20.481-05:00The Words of a Prophet 2019 A.D.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Prophet of God</b><br />
<br />
I was called upon by God* today to visit a Christian church in Springfield, Missouri. I don't care if you don't believe me. It's True, capital T. I am a prophet of God. If you question my status as a prophet of God, that does not make you special, nor does it make me less a prophet.<br />
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This is not an attempt to persuade you to adopt a set of man-made riddles intended to make you feel better about yourself, though my hope is you will someday. That is to say, I don't give a shit if you turn away from Truth at this moment. Truth will eventually find you, whether you seek it or not.<br /><br />
<b>Self-Proclaimed Men Of God</b>.<div>
<br />
Self-proclaimed "men of God" like Franklin Graham, Joel Osteen, Jerry Falwell, Jr. and their ilk espouse spiritual insights only to enhance their own temporal condition. That is, they're frauds. If you haven't figured that out yet, maybe you should stop reading.<br />
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God understands that the easily led are prone to follow blatant fraudsters more out of convenience than conviction. Or, put another way, Evangelical Christianity is to religion what professional wrestling is to sports. Both can be entertaining once you suspend your disbelief.<br />
<br />Genuine prophets of God do not seek followers nor do they want your money. I will occasionally purchase items when God sends me on "answer-to-prayer" missions, but it's usually not that much. He ignores 99%, by the way. You'd do more good gifting your money to a homeless person working a street corner near you. This more visible level of poverty is a relatively new phenomenon locally but certainly not in human history. Any thriving tyrannical empire will produce plenty of beggars. God knows it runs in cycles.<br />
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My aim in sharing prophesies is no different from the old timers back in the day. Consider it a warning, a wake up call. This is what prophets do. The rest is on you.<br />
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<b>Venturing Forth on East Sunshine Street</b><br />
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Verily, I ventured forth to answer God's calling, passing many a humble consumer servant along east Sunshine Street. Dutiful bargain hunters were ever-so-carefully creating a traffic snarl at a Sam's Club entrance. This despite clear traffic signals intended to provide smooth passage. Many of the elders were driving Buicks, which God finds oddly amusing. That's not much of a divine revelation, I know, just passing it along.<br />
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As God's obedient servant, I traveled eastward and, in good faith, turned south on Blackman Road. Blackman Road is so named because a man of African descent was spotted there many years ago. He may have been walking down a nearby path carrying some fish. Perhaps he lived near the James River for a short time. I don't know if this is true, but having lived in the area for many years, it seems plausible.<br />
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In the blink of an eye, I came upon a large <a href="http://glendalechristian.org/portfolio/directions/" target="_blank">house of God</a> nestled high atop a neatly mowed hill several hundred paces from the road. I beheld an angular arrangement of bricks with metal roofing. This, I felt reasonably sure, was the spot. I pulled into the huge parking lot. Nobody was there.<br />
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<b>God & Architecture</b><br />
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At first glance, I mistook the church for a middle school or high school. It seems whomever God had blessed with the construction contract for this house of worship had thrice utilized the same pre-ordained template with larger school districts in surrounding counties.<br />
<br />For what it's worth, and it's a lot, God prefers His homes to be singular in their design, which may explain His sighing disdain for prayers emanating from cookie-cutter suburban landscapes. And I'm sorry to report that God no longer attends to the distorted pleadings emanating from prefabricated metal buildings. Sadly, most of these "full metal churches" are found in rural settings, frequently visible on outer roads across I-44.<br />
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For the record, the rare open air tent meeting remains the preferred assemblage from which God enjoys receiving worship and prayer requests. <br />
<br />
I began examining the roof lines of this particular church. Walls, windows, and corner masonry slapped together in a lazy geometric. I've seen Lego structures with more character. I found myself visualizing, for a moment, God's Word bouncing off the angled roof lines like laser beams back into the atmosphere, piercing clouds and careening off orbiting satellites into the deepest reaches of space. Metal roof. Ugh. Impenetrable, virtually prayer proof. This explains a lot.<br />
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Inside, a multitude of prayers from congregants becomes an indoor bombardment of prayer lasers careening from ceiling to floor and back again until fading out entirely. Sunday worship at a metal roofed church would amount to nothing more than an indecipherable, discordant mix of mangled pleadings and missed directives. And then they all get in their cars and drive! God knows where they go, but they are dangerous.<br />
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<b>Figure It Out!</b><br />
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God sometimes reveals Himself through idle thought portals like this. That is, I've come to value moments of wandering, or what some people would call day dreaming, because mental meanderings sometimes end with a flash of divine light. One person's daydream is another person's epiphany. Revelations from God don't happen that often, really, just often enough to effectively condition me to keep the playground open. You never know.<br />
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Was God revealing to me that the church roof served as an impenetrable deflector shield? Could this explain why so many Christian churches have lost their way? Metal roofs deflecting God's message? Could it possibly be that simple? Is this why Evangelicals are so susceptible to manipulation by unscrupulous charlatans? Seems plausible.<br />
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Come to think of it, the area's favorite mega church, <a href="https://jamesriver.church/locations/ozark" target="_blank">James River Assembly of God</a>, has a metal roof like this! By the way, it's now James River Church, as they've scrubbed their website of any references to the Assemblies of God denomination, which is headquartered in Springfield. Did we miss something?<br />
<br />Church squabbles are delightful entertainment for God. It's His reality television, if you will. Witnessing self-righteous men - and it's always men - puffing up and making fools of themselves in His name? Hilarious! The wives? Well, they are trained early to be submissive, so what would you expect?<br />
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Is it possible that a metal roof on James River Church explain why Pastor preaches that yoga is demonic and gay people aren't worth protecting from discrimination? Could it be that messages from God just haven't been getting through? Is Pastor just winging it?<br />
Having heard him speak on several occasions, I find this quite plausible.<br />
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<b>Heaven, Hell & the Rapture</b><br />
<br />I'm now imagining Pastor's arrival at the Gates of Heaven and in answering for his misguided political meddlings says, <div><br /></div><div>"You see, it turns out our church had a metal roof that served to deflect the Lord's Word. I never actually received His messages, and should therefore be held harmless for any sins I may have committed. To which Peter replies,</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh? Sorry, but the "Know Not What They Do" absolution is valid only when administered by God or His Designee. If you don't know what you're doing, you cannot possibly absolve yourself for not knowing what you're doing. Figure it out! Therefore, no entry for you, false prophet!"<br />
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Pastor, falling into hell, screams "Aiiyeeeeeeeee!"<br />
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Disclaimer: Pastor being flung into traditional Hell is my own self-directed flight of fancy. Truth is, God has never outright revealed to me whether Heaven or Hell exist actually exist as separate places, nor has He confirmed, or ever suggested to me, that there is a final day of judgement after death. He has cleverly implied many times that heaven and hell (lower case) exist in real time right here where we live, which I find both troubling and comforting depending on the situation.<br />
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Of course, as a prophet of God, the troubling question is, am I projecting scenarios from my own mind, or did God reveal it to me through my mind? Metal roof deflecting God's message? Plausible?<br />
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<b>Wishful Thinking & Faith</b><br />
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It pains me to admit that I soon became overwhelmed with indecision about this day's calling. Why can't everything be easy? Being incapable of understanding God's message is the main reason man invented faith, with zero Guidance, by the way. God says that faith is dressed up wishful thinking and nothing more. But again, that doesn't necessarily make it a bad thing. So, if you consider yourself to be a man or woman of faith, rest assured there is nothing inherently wrong with that.<br />
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At this moment, my own wishful thinking was being severely tested. I resisted the temptation to leave and instead chose to wait for Divine Affirmation of some kind. This could take a while.</div><div>
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I once parked for the better part of an entire evening outside a strip mall massage parlor in southwest Springfield. Once there, I could find no sign or clue.<br />
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I did happen to see a guy who looked very much like Josh Hawley furtively exiting the parlor door. He appeared to be wearing a cape, which I found curious. He glided to a car that was parked outside a Chinese restaurant down the row. I marveled at his quickness and agility. Maybe it was the cape. I thought, "Whoa, am I here to catch Josh Hawley after a happy ending? That would be so amazing! Self-righteous twit!"<br />
<br />God quickly interjected. "He's going to be limber after a message."</div><div><br />
This is how you know you're on the wrong track with God. It's never, "Hey, you're on the wrong track." No, it's always a statement of fact followed, and maybe it's me, seems to be followed by an unspoken "dumbass". Guidance from God is seldom direct, and don't waste your time with questions. Click. Among His most frequent directives is "Pay Attention". Easy for the omniscient to say.<br />
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It turned out the massage parlor outing was all about a woman who worked there, rather than a cape-wearing Josh Hawley. I never learned her name. She may have been ill, because I eventually was directed to a nearby market where I purchased specific items and returned to drop them off. That was it, but it took more than four hours for me to figure it out.<br />
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So here I was again, sitting in my car in a church parking lot on Blackman Road waiting for something to happen while speculating on metal roofs and mega church pastors being cast into hell. And lo, it came to pass that I fell into a troubled sleep behind the wheel of my Toyota.<br />
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<b>Children Are Dying!</b><br />
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I awoke from a horrific nightmare, still in car, heart racing in full panic mode as I pieced together bizarre images. My mind filled with haunting echoes of anguish and death. I was stranded on a narrow ledge high atop an underground water park. Early Bransonesque. Marvel Cave meets White Water.</div><div><br /></div><div>People were dutifully lining up their kids to be randomly killed on a water slide lined surrounded by jagged, flesh-cutting, man-made boulders. I don't know how else to say it. The slide was too swift for children. I watched in horror as their flailing little bodies were launched into the misty air and dashed against blood-soaked rocks, screams muffled by roaring water. Their bodies drifted off around a corner on a lazy river of death.<br />
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"What are you doing?" I scream at the families below. "Can't you see? No! Don't do this! They're dying!"<br />
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But people continued moving patiently along in neat lines that doubled back on themselves. They clutched their brightly colored rafts and kept moving forward, afraid to look up at me. A few children were obviously petrified, but parents urged them along toward the top of the slide, where smiling park attendants helped them lie down on their rafts.<br />
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<br />Like happy vacationers boarding a doomed Duck Boat, they had somehow convinced themselves this particular ride was a must. True to Branson, all of the parents were too heavy to be thrown off the slide, but the younger kids were flying high into the air, one after the other. Oh, God!<br />
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"What's wrong with you people?" I woke up screaming. "Jesus!"<br />
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<br />Sometimes I think this is how God likes to wake me up. He was laughing, which is about the most disarming thing there is. "Why would anybody listen to you? They don't listen to Me!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNx9NI1zgjyY5xBo_UXXbLK8G4kVqu6yviZQN8RllGNIZkC5KDz3wcrRGcNSajdd4JHRYOWV5TCZbtC7rZATqR9EqugQ_3uemOLAQc3D4_WbEPoW9s0vzPp06rGmAubSPFA3QZUg/s1600/capitoldome+condom.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="211" data-original-width="239" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNx9NI1zgjyY5xBo_UXXbLK8G4kVqu6yviZQN8RllGNIZkC5KDz3wcrRGcNSajdd4JHRYOWV5TCZbtC7rZATqR9EqugQ_3uemOLAQc3D4_WbEPoW9s0vzPp06rGmAubSPFA3QZUg/s200/capitoldome+condom.jpg" width="200" /></a>Sometimes I think God has a sense of humor. I'm pretty sure He does, but most of it is way over my head. Like old people driving Buicks is funny? I don't get it. But, here's one you may have missed. God placed a giant prophylactic atop the Missouri Capitol as the ruling patriarchy passed restrictive laws to more effectively suppress women. It appears to be ribbed with no lubricant, which sounds Republican. God works a lot with metaphors, I've found.<br />
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With my dream, I believe He was trying to show me how tough it is to be God's prophet in 21st Century America. People don't listen, even when their lives are at stake, and they are struck dumb when confronted with Truth.<br />
Truth often comes in blows, He once told me.<br />
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And then, still reeling from my dream, the sign from God came to me. I mean, literally, it was a sign right in front of my face. It said, "ATM".<br />
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At this moment, God reminded me how comfortable I had become with the superficiality of consumer life, that it would take over an hour for me to notice a big, bold bank ATM sign sitting squarely on Church grounds. Is this not His house? Did anybody bother to confer with Him about this? Obviously not!<br />
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<b>A Den of Thieves</b><br />
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You may recall the only time we see violent Jesus is when he unloads his righteous rage on the money changers in the Temple, beating their asses, overturning tables, spilling cash boxes, freeing the sacrificial livestock into the streets and calling out the priests for turning the Temple into a "den of thieves". Oh, man! Wish I'd seen it. This was the real reason they had him killed him, of course.<br />
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Such a public display of disrespect to the owner class could not go unanswered. They had him executed in the most gruesome manner for all to see. You know the story. Sometime later, a bunny with colored eggs became involved. I have no idea. But the wealthy elite's message to the peasant class - virtually everybody else - was crystal clear. "Don't get any ideas."<br />
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Historical Note: Sixty-six years later a violent rebellion did erupt, forcing Roman Emperor, Nero, to send multiple reinforcements. The great Jewish Rebellion lasted seven years before it was finally defeated, leaving much of what we now call the Holy Land in ruins.<br />
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My point here is that most modern day "Christians" think that Jesus died for their sins. In truth, Jesus died for upsetting an established order that had allowed exploitative money changers to establish a foothold in the Temple of God.<br />
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Fast forward two thousand years, and we see money changers setting up banking services in God's house, and the church has become so thoroughly secularized that it's blind to the obvious desecration of God's house.<br />
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God's position is this: People can go ahead and worship money like crazy. I mean, we have free will, right? This isn't new. Just don't expect it to end well. Churches, however, cannot also be banks. God considers this spiritual bankruptcy, if you will. And here we have Exhibit A in the spiritual bankruptcy filing from Glendale Christian Church in Springfield, Missouri.<br />
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Also, please note that Springfield City Council unanimously approved this bank/church arrangement. The mayor quipped that the church might find it easier to collect tithes with an ATM on their property. Ha! Funny! Church, state and money changers united in what? Enterprise? Admit it, at first blink, you don't think it's that big a deal. Verily, I say to you. It is a big deal! <br />
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<b>God Did Not Create Corporations</b><br />
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Oh, and let me just pass this along, since we're discussing church/state/moneychanger things. God condemns the notion that corporations are people. Hobby Lobby and Chick-Fil-A will not rise up during the Rapture. </div><div>Neither will you, for that matter. There's isn't going to be a Rapture. A full scale Apocalypse maybe, but no Rapture.<br />
He wants you to know this. Stop deluding yourself.<br />
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For God's sake, I tell you this now so that appropriate actions may be taken, though I'm not exactly sure whether it would be better to repent or join a rebellion. Historically, both produce dubious outcomes. If pushed to choose, based on my interpretations of God's message, I'd probably go with rebellion at this point. It just seems more proactive, and sometimes rebellions succeed in changing things.<br />
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I will report more Insights as they are provided to me. It is my calling. Meanwhile, I would advise anyone reading this to offer prayers to God only while outdoors for best results. Also, just to be safe, if you attend a church covered by a metal roof, please listen very carefully to the message. Does it sound like it could come from God, or are they just making shit up?<br />
<br /><div style="text-align: left;">You have free will. </div></div><div style="text-align: left;">Pay attention. </div><div><div style="text-align: left;">Figure it out.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*God has no gender and doesn't care about pronouns. I thought about mixing pronouns, but that would have made this piece even harder to read than it already is.</span><br />
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<br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-69582151492830242212019-04-19T22:06:00.007-05:002023-04-17T14:42:57.141-05:00Emergencies, Evangelicals & Saluting the Troops<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A child was kidnapped in St. Charles, Missouri last week. St. Charles is 200 miles away, but my phone went off like a damn fire alarm. So did yours. It happens a lot, but this time it made me jump. Authorities are alerting concerned citizens to be on the lookout for a silver SUV.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's heartwarming to know Americans care so much about the safety of children. We revere the unborn fetus, of course. After that, well, it's every toddler for himself. Of course, spending cuts for education, nutrition and social services that won't help children who currently live in poverty. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But if one of them gets kidnapped, our phones blow up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">SUV, by the way, stands for Sports Utility Vehicle, a marketing concept thought up by an ad agency representing the auto industry. Everybody knows what an SUV is. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be on the lookout. We're all in this together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wait, a Silver SUV just drove by. I'll be right back. Could never forgive myself if . . . </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No worries, just neighbors returning from the grocery store. I think they wondered why I was watching them. I waved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Amber Alert," I said. "Silver SUV. Just checking."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"This is a Cross-Over," they said. What the hell is that?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Oh, Nice." They loved their new crossover.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Egregious General Anxiety Disorder</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I used to tease an office colleague that they suffered from Egregious General Anxiety Disorder (EGAD), which caused them to experience some form of stress and agitation during every waking moment. Even their dreams were fraught with harrowing images. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Luckily, EGAD can be treated with drug therapy. Ask your doctor about Egadizol.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">*May increase chances of stroke. Side effects may include depression and thoughts of suicide.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, why does it feel like we're in a constant state of emergency, even here in the </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">American Midwest, one of the safest places on Earth? You may disagree, but just wait. There have been two mass shootings and a tornado since I started writing this a couple of days ago. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or, here's a </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">simple test: </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Have you ever seen a flag at half mast but couldn't remember which tragedy was being commemorated? Or, how about this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Daddy, why is the flag way up high today?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Oh, honey. That's how they're suppose to be."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">People are randomly gunned down for having the audacity to attend schools or visit restaurants, concerts, movie theaters, stores and churches. Most often, the assailant is an angry white man armed with your common military assault rifle. Mainstream media hesitates to call them domestic terrorists, which sounds almost chummy, as though they wiped down counter tops and straightened the living room before heading out to the bloodletting. Let's just call them terrorists. Most of the killers</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> seem like regular Americans. The guy down the street could be kidnapping children and shooting up synagogues next week. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I can't believe it happened here," someone will say. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was quiet. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Kept to himself."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No, he didn't. He had crazy right-wing stickers plastered all over his van!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Oh, you're right. I was thinking of that other guy."</span><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">"Yeah. Guy before last."<br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Emergencies bring us together, if you're a glass half full type, which may partially explain our perverse dependence on calamity as part of our national identity. Shared suffering and fear are effective agents of unity even in a politically divided country. Just ask Fox News, which has parlayed/promoted such things into untold billions. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But if calamity brought us closer, wouldn't we be pretty damn unified by now? Unity via disaster and/or mass murder seems to have an abbreviated shelf life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Common responses.<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Yes, a lot of people died and it is a terrible tragedy, but the community really came together after the tornado/flood/hurricane/mass killing."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The first responders were amazing, cordoning off the building and caring for the wounded."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Our deepest thoughts and prayers go out to families of victims."</span><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The implication here is that shallow thoughts and prayers would be offered for lesser traumas.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Lord, thank you for sparing us from the tornado that killed our neighbors," could be considered a shallow prayer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If calamitous events revive our sense of community, am I wrong to think the world could really benefit from a fucking asteroid about now? A small one? One that allows most of us to survive and perhaps get our priorities straightened out?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In case you've been too distracted by everything, you should be aware that tornadoes, fires, hurricanes and floods have become more severe than in any living person's memory. No, it's not god punishing us for the existence of Pat Robertson. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's global warming, stupid!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">An invasive species has pushed earth's environment to the tipping point for life in general, except for maybe viruses & such. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We would do more, but the invasive specie is us. Smart as we think we are, it's becoming clear that we're fatally flawed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe we should do Mother Earth a big favor and go run off a cliff en masse like a colony of lemmings. Maybe that's what we're doing in slow motion and haven't realized it yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>A Confession About the Troops</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is as good a time as any for me to make a confession. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm pretty sure that I'm not thankful enough for the troops, not by community standards anyway. I mostly feel sorry for them. We go overboard saluting the troops because we feel guilty for not really caring more about what they do. We have no idea what they do most of the time. Neither do they.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In keeping with a healthy conscience, I will heretofore resist standing at Hammons Field to salute the kid who enlisted as his last best option after being fired from his job at the Dollar General in Ava, Missouri. When everyone rises during the singing of "God Bless America", I will seek out a corn dog.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I mean, since when is the National Anthem not enough?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The honored veteran, wearing a ball cap and an oddly menacing heavy metal t-shirt with camo cargo shorts, reluctantly waves to the crowd and sits down in the Hero's Chair (Courtesy of Factory Outlet. False patriotism as promotion).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then, I look around and realize it's Christian Night. Dear God, help me. Of course it is. If it </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">were Muslim Night, the crowd would be sparse with only a few international students from the university. I'm also imagining a Buddhist Night where no score is kept. But in Springfield, Missouri, it's Christian Night at the old ballpark, and the faithful are all about saluting young Travis from Ava, and Jesus, of course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Many in the crowd are wearing red promotional t-shirts. <i> </i></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Instead of <i>"Cardinals"</i> in cursive across the front, it says <i>"Christian". </i>It does. Here's a picture. Faces have been cropped to protect them from persecution.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In Springfield, being surrounded by evangelicals is part of life, and I learned long ago to just let it go. My parents brought me into the world as an evangelical. I was saved at age eight at Calvary Temple Assembly of God church on East Grand, which was torn down a few years ago and replaced with a Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market. Honest to God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Evangelical Christians in Southwest Missouri are among the most judgmental and politically conservative in the country. Evangelical Christians are also the most ardent Trump supporters on the planet. They would send their kids to his university in a heartbeat. They'd buy his steaks. They eagerly swallow all the lies and fear-mongering spewing forth from the Orange Foolius because they believe, somehow, that he is God's chosen leader. Kind of like a secular and profane American Ayatollah, who could only rise to power in 21st century America.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tonight, the Christians at the ballpark don't seem fearful at all, which is strangely heartwarming. This is how it should be. There's really no reason to fear anything, especially while surrounded by people who look just like you. There isn't a Muslim or MS13 member in sight, though there are several silver SUVs in the parking lot (some are probably crossovers). Still, if the Rapture were to occur at this moment, a few of them would be sad to miss the post game fireworks. But for the most part, they're having a great time, secure in their delusions, rooting for the home team.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As one, they rise to salute Travis from Ava in the Hero's Chair, and I quickly break for a corn dog. Behind me, a church soprano backed by a ukele choir is performing God Bless America.</span></div><div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh, how I've come to loath the proliferation of patriotism checks at every community gathering. I long for the days when troops and police officers stoically performed their duties without forced public deification. Can we not just have a general understanding that we support them? No, we can't, not even at the annual chili cook-off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Let's all recognize that we wouldn't be able to celebrate this occasion if it weren't for the brave men and women who so, uh, bravely protect our freedom," says the master of ceremonies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Really? I think we could. I think we could hold a fucking chili cook-off!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">President Trump, who is himself a frequent declarer of emergencies real and imagined, now wants to send direct text messages to the entire US population when disasters strike. AT&T and Verizon are fine with this, by the way, and I read somewhere that the system was set up like Amber Alerts, so we won't be able to block him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A test of the Presidential Text system was suppose to have happened a few months ago but was somehow sidelined, probably by somebody who has since been fired. If it ever starts, you know our phones will be buzzing at least once a month about some goddam thing: Fake News, Saturday Night Live, Hillary, god knows what. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, if you've had this strange sense of foreboding that something really awful is about to happen, there's good reason. It's pervasive. It's happening. American life, as we know it, is in emergency mode. Level Orange. Be vigilant.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Also, a kid was kidnapped in St. Charles and may be in a silver SUV. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Never heard what happened, can only imagine.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-70905011034386457802019-04-10T12:08:00.000-05:002019-05-10T11:33:57.058-05:00Letter to Editor: Public School Accountability<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was an excellent <a href="https://www.news-leader.com/story/opinion/2019/04/06/madelyn-carson-and-abigail-wilkinson-focus-prop-s-work-should-help-students-not-distract-them/3376871002/" target="_blank">letter to the editor published in the News-Leader</a> last week. Two A+ students from Hillcrest High School, who tutor at Fremont Elementary School, penned the piece as part of a journalism class assignment. They may not have expected it to be published, and they almost assuredly couldn't have expected the kind of reaction it sparked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The letter was well-written and thought provoking, especially on the heels of the district's big bond win last week. In that context, the letter was also cautionary. You see, Fremont Elementary is the one pilot school that reflects the superintendent's unwavering desire to innovate - tech integration, large classes, flexible seating, co-teaching, the works. Yet these young A+ tutors expressed criticism of the school's design, actually saying what many teachers at Fremont have been thinking for quite a while. The manner in which this school was designed actually detracts from student learning. Or, as they put it in the letter:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"This classroom is one long room and is packed with 40 students. This is a challenge in and of itself. Combining two classes for lack of room is hurting the students’ learning."</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa;">Based on my experience with this administration (and school board) as a teacher union rep, I can tell you that it won't sit well to interrupt the bond victory lap. Rather than praise the students for writing a civic-minded opinion piece, it's more likely they'll be ignored or worse. Their high school principal may face a formal reprimand, perhaps the journalism teacher, too. The principal at Fremont will be questioned.<br />(Possibly by coincidence, HHS principal, Gary Moore, was non-renewed at the next board of education meeting. Moore had been principal at Hillcrest since 2012.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa;">This is the SPS culture I came to know. Now in it's fourth year, the current SPS administration is like a fine wine. Bold yet incredibly sensitive with subtle hints of compliance.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If there is school board discussion about whether building design, along with multiple simultaneous integrations, could have possibly caused Fremont to finish last among 37 SPS elementary schools in Math/English scores, it won't be public.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The fact that Fremont was redesigned to exactly fit the superintendent's vision - a vision that was unilaterally pushed with zero input from community or teachers - seems like a valid point to discuss with huge district wide implications.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The fact that a teaching staff and building leadership have worked their tails off for three years to make this grand experiment work will not be recognized. In fact, they may face benign penalties in the form of denied transfers or promotions. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa;">The one decision maker responsible for this sparkling educational disaster will not be held accountable. Accountability will be dished out, make no mistake. It just won't touch the responsible party.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa;">The letter to the editor from the A+ tutors expressed real concerns from real young people who were legitimately expressing their opinion about working in an educational environment that doesn't work very well. The community of people who have daily interactions with students should be listened to, preferably before unworkable designs and initiatives become a forced reality. And we should certainly listen to the students. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa;">It's all about them, right?</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-53315680350011634622019-03-30T12:38:00.001-05:002023-04-13T10:11:24.393-05:00School Superintendents: Vital or Irrelevant?<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">School Superintendents: Vital or Irrelevant?</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Springfield's superintendent has received <a href="https://www.news-leader.com/story/news/education/2019/03/29/springfield-school-superintendent-john-jungmann-leadership-pearce-award/3298007002/" target="_blank">yet another award</a> from the Missouri Association of School Administrators (<a href="https://www.masaonline.org/" target="_blank">MASA</a>). It's always nice to be recognized by your peers. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Come to think of it, we haven't seen much of the superintendent during the big school bond push, which will be decided Tuesday. So, it was nice to see him receive some recognition.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr. Jungmann has brought a lot of change to Springfield Public Schools over the past few years. The award mentions some of the initiatives that Dr. J brought to the district: IGNiTE, LAUNCH, EXPLORE, GO CAPS, GO CSD. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A lot of acronyms and a lot of change. How the change affected students, teachers and employees in the district seems to be an area overlooked by our school board, which I'm sure has also won awards from their peer association.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Awards are great, but besides extending the superintendent's contract and issuing closed session evaluations, does the school board really do an in-depth evaluation of the superintendent?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While teachers have been evaluated ad nauseam under the reform microscope for lo these many years, to my knowledge there has been only one sizable study regarding how superintendents affect student achievement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A 2014 Brookings Institute study entitled <a href="https://www.brookings.edu/research/school-superintendents-vital-or-irrelevant/" target="_blank">"School Superintendents: Vital or Irrelevant?"</a> yielded some interesting data that reinforced what many teachers and school employees have known for years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Foundation: Teachers, Student Characteristics, Schools & Districts</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The nine-year study concluded that the superintendent effect on student achievement, positive or negative, was "orders of magnitude smaller than that associated with any other major component of the education system." Major components outweighing superintendents would be teachers, student characteristics, schools and districts. These components would be the foundation for any school district's performance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After four years of disruptive "innovation" at <a href="https://www.sps.org/" target="_blank">Springfield R-12</a>, there are more than a few people who might be wishing Springfield were lucky enough to have a small magnitude superintendent about now. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You know, one that looks after basic operations, hires enough staff, supports paying them a decent wage, oversees a lean administrative staff whose main job is support rather than compliance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of course, you can't lay all the blame for a district's downward trend on a superintendent. But if you happen to end up with one (and accompanying CFO) who arrives with a boat load of educational hubris and the singular intent to implement a bold vision that nobody really asked for, well, you may see the district's foundation start to wobble.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Graduation rates off 2.3% from last year.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">SPS district below the state average in English and Math proficiency.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Superintendent's Pilot School in third year (open classrooms, 1-1 tech, co-teaching, teachers re-applying for their own jobs, etc) combined for lowest scores of all 37 SPS elementary schools, only 9.4% proficiency score in Math.</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While chalking up awards is wonderful for those receiving them, and world class branding provides some nice logos, acronyms and catch phrases, it appears that change for the sake of change can lead to some disastrous results. When graduation rates fall, when the superintendent's model school has the lowest comparative performance in the district, when student disciplinary issues are up, when teacher attrition is up, something is amiss. Let's not act surprised.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>What If It Doesn't Work?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Early in Dr. J's tenure, I remember talking with a cabinet level administrator who had been around for several years and was heavily involved with all the new "deployments". As teacher union rep, it was part of my job to point out concerns from teachers, who were starting to leave the district in droves. They'd been advised to "Grow or Go", and a lot of them were choosing to grow somewhere else or go into early retirement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What if it doesn't work?" I asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What do you mean?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What if all this disruption is just disruption, and institutional chaos makes it harder for everyone to do their job? Things weren't really that bad here." I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He smiled and leaned back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It's going to work. I believe in what [the superintendent] is doing. He's a good guy,"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I don't doubt that," I said. "But what if it doesn't work?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That cabinet member left the district within the year. His replacement lasted one year and abruptly departed. The entire Human Resources Department left, save one employee. What little institutional memory remained was absorbed by a leadership dynamic characterized by rapid change, unforeseen consequences, and group think.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I submit for your consideration that despite all the awards, contract extensions and excellent branding, the district is in decline. New buildings will make it prettier, but it won't change the culture. Employee morale is in the tank. And it's going to take a long time to even attain previous levels of district performance, both in basic operations and in academic achievement.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Opinion: Superintendents Are Not the Answer</span></b><br />
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<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We need relief from the innovators, for God's sake. Superintendents and the migrant administrative class should not be inflicting their over-excited versions of education reform on students and school employees while simultaneously controlling everything a school board hears and sees.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Superintendents should not bring home 7 or 8 times what a teacher makes. Ever. They simply aren't worth that much. Public schools should not seek to parrot corporate structures that reward CEOs far beyond their worth, while marginalizing front line employees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The idea of a <a href="http://neatoday.org/2015/02/12/teacher-led-schools-theyre-way/" target="_blank">teacher led school</a> is worth studying but is unlikely to be promoted within the current admin-heavy structure. Perhaps requiring all administrators to achieve tenure as teachers would be a modest first step.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Further, administrators shouldn't be in the business of grooming an additional layer of administrative employees at the expense of classroom teachers. These positions, almost always blessed with titles like "Learning Specialist" inevitably morph into an administrative vanity project that effectively drains money from the classroom. I've seen this so many times, but top administrators can't seem to get along without this added insulation.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A Bit of Local District History</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Remember the recession of 2008? Springfield had a different superintendent with an entirely different vision. Plan, Do, Study, Act was the slogan on bulletin boards everywhere. Continuous Quality Improvement. Seems almost quaint now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">School funding took a serious hit with the recession, but rather than cut teaching positions, that particular superintendent and BOE actually eliminated an entire swath of mid-level "Instructional Specialist" positions and saved the district over two million dollars.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Remember what happened next? Nothing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In fact, graduation rates and attendance increased a bit in following years. SPS remained above average by state test standards. The instructional specialists were moved back to the classroom and charged with, wait for it, providing instruction to students!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fast forward five or six years and a new visionary superintendent comes to town and quickly moves to re-establish a middle layer of administrative nothingness. This after beginning his tenure with a 55% increase over his predecessor's ending salary. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The recession is over! Praise the Lord!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To be fair, Springfield's superintendent was surprisingly generous in his comments about teachers as a response to the recent airing of the district's low MAP<a href="https://www.news-leader.com/story/news/education/2019/02/01/springfield-public-schools-test-scores-below-average-math-english/2726279002/" target="_blank"> scores</a> - although the timing and context is perhaps a bit telling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It's only becoming more difficult as expectations rise and more things are piled on the backs of educators on an annual basis," he told the News-Leader. He failed to acknowledge that his own attempts to innovate (<a href="https://www.sps.org/site/default.aspx?PageType=19" target="_blank">IGNiTE</a> et al) dumped an extraordinary weight of disruptive chaos on SPS teachers and employees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where Not to Look for Solutions</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If our schools are screwed up, and some of them surely are, where do we look for solutions? Do we look for another innovative miracle worker superintendent to possibly lead us down another expensive rabbit hole? A school board blessed with leadership experts who seem more adept at following?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Do we cast our fate to a state agency pushing standardized tests and time-wasting teacher evals while performing a political high wire act with a governor whose majority party is, ahem, inherently hostile to public schools and would just as soon privatize the whole thing and turn them into Christian Madrassas, or something? More choices please!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No, our schools are not going to be improved by state or federal policy changes anytime soon, though adequate funding would be nice. The superintendent study actually revealed how we improve our schools. We do it through advocating for teachers, students and community. Not the Good Morning Springfield community, where superintendents and board members live. We're talking about the community of Springfield parents, students, teachers, custodians, school secretaries, school nurses, counselors, the people who interact with each other daily in our schools. That, and maybe vote out some worthless state legislators.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By now, all of us - even the school board - should be starting to recognize what doesn't work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-64025740496806324012019-03-10T17:28:00.003-05:002023-04-13T10:20:29.375-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Short Take: Religion, Capitalism & Political Power</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christian/Military yard ornament. Wal-Mart, Springfield, Missouri</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are three enormous constructs that serve to inhibit and discourage a robust pursuit of happiness in America today. Here's a short take on the current state of Religion, Capitalism and Political Power from here in God's Country (next to the super center).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">1. Religion*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">First of all, you are cursed with a sinful nature </span></span><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You have fallen far short of the Glory of God</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Far short</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not even close</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hell awaits you</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Your flesh will burn</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You will suffer in agony for eternity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unless</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You become Born Again™️</span><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Far less traumatic than first time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Believe me</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">*Rules may vary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<b><br />
</b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>You Suck!</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>You Should Fix That</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">2. Capitalism</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You suck! </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In so many ways </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The mirror is not your friend</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You're not very smart</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Even when it's obvious you are being conned </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You fall for it every time</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because you suck</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You don't have enough money </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You could smell better </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">Your teeth aren't white enough</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">And they are crooked</span></div><div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />The drugs you should be asking your doctor about </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">May cause you to have oily stools</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And perhaps make you suicidal</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If you aren't already</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Consolidating your debt could help</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">3. Political Power</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You are surrounded by threats to your safety </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You should probably own a gun</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Several guns</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's that bad<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thank God (see #1 above) for our troops</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And the immigration police </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And first responders</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Who sacrifice what could be more useful lives</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To protect your freedom </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To become a better consumer (see #2)<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We hold these truths to be self evident</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All men are created equal</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;">That's what we say<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some are threats to your safety</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You should probably own a gun</span><br />
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-74456223498161595542019-02-22T14:45:00.002-06:002020-02-10T21:12:22.401-06:00YOU MUST STOP AT THE END OF THIS SECTION!<h2 style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Standardized tests. As a teacher, I wasted many a day administering these tools of the devil to children who, like their teachers and principals, were merely doing what they were told by those above them on the education totem. People talk a lot about local control of schools, but it's funny how widely accepted state mandated tests have become with barely a whimper of protest. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The picture above is sort of quaint, pencil with bubble test. Tests are administered by computer now. Bland as hell. Unimaginative. Screen gazing. A broken pencil at least expresses something.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I did everything I could to let my middle school students know that their teacher didn't care about this test. I read the instructions in a comically threatening samurai voice ala John Belushi.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"YOU MUST STOP AT THE END OF THE SECTION AND CLOSE THE BOOKLET!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We even created a class gesture to go along with a chant of "UP Your MAP Scores!", for which I probably could have been reprimanded if not fired. I remember the English Second Language (ESL) teacher asking me about it after a class full of Romanian and Vietnamese students displayed the gesture for her with great glee. What are you doing? Who taught you that? Ah, middle school.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Test prep included covering the door window with brown paper, which seemed ridiculous. Bulletin boards, possibly containing helpful info, were also covered. It felt like an intruder drill. The intruder, in this case, would be the Department of Elementary & Secondary Education (<a href="https://dese.mo.gov/">DESE</a>). The weapon was the Missouri Assessment Program (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missouri_Assessment_Program">MAP</a>). No one was killed, but the learning environment was seriously wounded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As an advocate for teachers and students living in the real world, I submit that the MAP test is the scourge of public education in this state. If parents were really paying attention and weren't stressing over their job, kids, bills, health issues, prison, being deported or worse, they would rise up and lead a massive boycott of MAP testing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Do people realize that, by the time MAP scores are finally released, the teacher is already involved in a new school year with different students? It's like receiving the results from an autopsy to remind everyone that somebody died a year ago. Yet the autopsy proceeds, all hands on deck, until all the data is appropriately parsed and any accountability, especially at the administrative level, is assertively and effectively dodged.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If Score Are Low, If Scores Are High</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If MAP scores are low, it's because we cannot measure what's truly important. If scores are high, we celebrate their importance and claim that our schools are successful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ask an administrator about standardized tests, and they'll sigh and say, "This is the world we live in," or some such thing. Then they'll busy themselves scouring test data for nuggets of insight. Lucky for them, the world we live in rewards them pretty well for their sighing compliance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Inverse rule of measuring: If you cannot measure what's truly important, one must place undue importance on what can be measured.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">MAP tests do not measure physical health, mental health, nutrition, resilience, creativity, kindness or compassion. Nor do they measure the acceptance and trust that grows between teacher and student, even those unfortunate enough to be working under pressure in state targeted schools.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thought exercise: If a school is determined to be a failure through the lens of a failed assessment tool, can it then be deemed successful?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One Salient Piece of Data</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This. Year after year: </span><b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">Students living in higher income areas have higher levels of proficiency. Students in poverty-stricken neighborhoods struggle with basic skills.</b><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is perhaps the one salient piece of data that every standardized test proves true, yet it is effectively swept under the rug by school boards and education leaders out of political expediency. A task force of usual suspects will surround the issue and provide a report. End of story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Issues like minimum wage and Medicaid expansion that would make substantive differences for the poor are off limits and considered far too political, a tacit acknowledgement that our political/economic system still favors those living in the "proficient" neighborhoods.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">No, we'll pay top dollar for an expert speaker on the effects of poverty. Their insights will amaze us. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Teachers will be required to take mandatory sessions from a diversity expert (person of color) to help them learn how to talk to and teach poor kids. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Early Childhood Education will be the answer, just you wait and see - along with generous</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> charity grants for shoes and coats. The charity will receive high praise for their work. Look at those numbers!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most poor kids are pre-disqualified from attending what are termed "choice" programs in my city. Discipline issues, you know. (No, it's not racial bias. We've trained the teachers.) And attendance, of course. Poor kids tend to move a lot, something completely out of their control. And even if they did qualify with good behavior and attendance, lack of transportation becomes the ultimate disqualifier.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For the most part, parents from poor neighborhood in this town cannot choose "choice" programs for their kids to attend. It's the same reason their kids don't participate in youth sports programs. They either can't afford it or can't get there, or both. As with standardized testing, it's just not set up for them</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-1154881435951411232006-08-06T09:57:00.000-05:002020-02-19T17:01:04.905-06:00The Bizarre World of Rep. Ed Emery (R-Lamar)<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2037/1054/1600/repemery.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2037/1054/200/repemery.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;"></a>In the strange, twisted world of state representative <a href="http://www.house.mo.gov/bills061/member/mem126.htm">Edgar Emery (R-Lamar)</a>, there is no color gray, and he'd just as soon there were no brown either. Like many Republican legislators, he believes in the simple rule of law (we'll have amend this section since 2016), right and wrong, cause and effect - there is a simple response to every action.<br />
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Emery, a staunch conservative who does little to hide his disdain for undocumented workers, currently serves, ironically enough, as chairman of the House <a href="http://www.house.mo.gov/bills061/commit/com148.htm">Special Committee of Immigration Reform</a>. At a recent hearing in Joplin, he spent the day listening to a host of Hispanic educator/advocates plead their case on behalf of immigrant workers.<br />
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During the afternoon session, several immigrant activists spoke quite eloquently about the plight of undocumented workers in the Ozarks - how Mexican agriculture collapsed after the implementation of NAFTA, how Mexican farmers were forced to look elsewhere for work in order to earn money to support their families - you know, family values.<br />
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Another immigrant advocate observed that most workers were taking on jobs that the vast majority of American workers didn't want. Yanking chicken guts eight hours a day at a Tyson plant is not considered a viable career choice for most white folks. One speaker pointed out that the human hand is the only device that can perform that particular task.<br />
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Emery, in his infinite wisdom, countered by proposing that perhaps immigrant workers were to blame for the lack of technological advances in the chicken-gutting industry - that a robotic hand may have already been invented to perform these tasks if it weren't for those pesky immigrants.<br />
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Emery and other panel members actually took up more air time than the speakers at the forum, which was unfortunate, since most who testified were far better versed in American history and economics than the panel members. Instead, Emery used the hearings as a bully pulpit for espousing his own cracker barrel ideas on American patriotism and ideals.<br />
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"You know, our immigration laws are in place to protect Americans, not Mexicans," Emery chided one speaker. "Mexico has their own immigration laws to protect their people."<br />
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And then, without provocation, an inexplicably emotional Emery spoke with quivering voice about the depth of his own patriotism, implying that immigrants were a underlying threat to America.<br />
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"I feel so strongly about maintaining our own American freedom, our love of liberty, that I would even be willing to sacrifice my own children in the defense of those ideals."<br />
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The room went silent. I wanted to ask him how many of his clan were currently serving in the military, but I was just an observer, and it would have spoiled a poignant moment. I did, however, take the opportunity to talk with Emery just after the meeting adjourned.<br />
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I asked him if he really thought that state laws would do anything to help solve a national problem. "Are you just wanting to establish some kind of state law that would push immigrants into Arkansas and Kansas?"<br />
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"Hopefully," Emery said with a smile. "And you know, this whole immigration problem would not even be an issue if it weren't for Roe vs. Wade."<br />
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"Excuse me?"<br />
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"Twenty million potential workers have been needlessly killed. We would not need any immigrant workers at all if those twenty million aborted fetuses were contributing to the economy."<br />
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So there you have it. The World According to Ed. In Emery's world, where the prohibition of abortions presents all those millions of saved fetuses a golden opportunity to build careers in yanking chicken guts and picking fruits and vegetables in patriotic service to the American economy. Wonder if he'd sacrifice his children to such a fate.<br />
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Please vote for a rational human to represent you in the state legislature. It's more important now than ever.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12434741.post-1152497828406327792006-07-09T19:50:00.000-05:002006-07-09T21:17:08.496-05:00Literacy Success Story #8<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2037/1054/1600/literacy.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2037/1054/200/literacy.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>Literacy Success Story #8 - from the notes of a reading teacher working with illiterate adults. The year is 1989, and Barbara Bush, like so many dutiful first ladies, is pushing a big literacy campaign.<br /><br />Student #122 - Doug, construction worker, Springfield, MO.<br /><br />Doug, 23, came to the program to improve his reading so he could advance in the construction trade. He was a general laborer and needed to learn how to read plans and blueprints to have any chance of promotion. Doug drank a little and had recently become separated from his wife of five years and his two children. He was living on his own for the first time and fashioned himself as a bit of a ladies' man.<br /><br />The program director took him on as a student until a good volunteer could step in, but since most of the good reading tutors were young women, it took a while. After three months of twice-weekly instruction, Doug was starting to make some progress, but his late night carousing was also starting to take its toll. He began canceling appointments.<br /><br />It was at this time that a new reading tutor came along that was able to take over Doug's instruction. Diana was a tough biker chick that had been in the merchant marine and now tended bar at the Silver Leaf on Republic Road. She had dropped out of high school but had worked hard to pass the GED. She wanted to do something to help somebody and give something back.<br /><br />Doug and Diana had been meeting for several weeks when the program director received a phone call from Doug. He was very upset. Apparently the tutoring sessions with Diana had gotten a little off topic, and he had somehow come down with a case of gonorrhea. Doug took this hard. His doctor had recommended an AIDS test as well, which scared the hell out of Doug given the fact that he'd fucked no fewer than a dozen women in the last three months - and he had to wait an excruciating two days for the test results.<br /><br />To sum up, the test was negative, and Doug subsequently moved back in with his wife and kids, gave up drinking and found Jesus as his personal savior. Despite our best effort, Doug still couldn't read worth a damn, but the literacy program had once again yielded a stirring success story.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2