This Special Ed Elephant Is Staring Straight At You

Note:  This was originally posted mid-April on Stephen Hurley's blog.  I've been meaning to repost it here for several months.  Today's conversation with Brendan Murphy prompted me to do this now.


Stephen Hurley was kind enough to invite us all to go on a safari with him.  He asked us to examine  the
educational elephants in the room.

 I love elephants.  I collect elephants of all sizes and materials.  I love reading about elephants.  These elephants are different.  There are many elephants in the room.  Poverty. Hunger. Class warfare. Racism. And an odd bit of segregation we still practice in the United States, at least  It's called Special Education.

I was curious about how Special Ed came to be, and, as always, I asked Ira Socol, who I ask about anything related to the history of education and Special Ed in particular.  As I suspected, Special Ed

began in earnest in the 60s.  Ira explained to me that as we were working on racial desegregation that also included removing segregated populations of mentally and physically disabled from institutions and moving them to schools. Along with that we closed down many schools for the deaf and blind, although some

still exist and are quite good.

Essentially, then, Special Ed was started with the best of intentions. However, like many  benevolent actions it was not thought out all the way through. Once mentally and physically disabled students were moved to schools, it stopped there. People didn't consider integrating the classrooms. Disabled children were still primarily kept segregated from the rest of the school population.  In Chicago in the 1970s schools were built solely for physically disabled students.Ironically, the local communities complained that their ablebodied

kids were being kept out of these special schools.  CPS caved in to this pressure, and local residents were given access to these schools. These ablebodied kids were never placed in classrooms with their

physically disabled peers.  Thus, even in schools built with the intention of educating the physically disabled, separate and unequal continues.  Conventional wisdom is that if a kid is in a  wheelchair or even just using a walker or orthopedic devices they are somehow not smart enough to be in gifted programs with ablebodied peers.Physically disabled does not equal mentally disabled, yet it seems that is how bureaucrats think.

People who think that Corey H was a boon to Special Ed are sorely mistaken.  Laws calling for  
href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Least_Restrictive_Environment">Least
Restrictive Environment

are open to subjective interpretation.   Doing what is appropriate is also open to interpretation.   These laws protect the school districts much more so than help any children, as I mentioned in my post, Kid O Talks Back. Eventually. :

I decided to try to make them do the right thing through due process. The law says that the schools must do what is appropriate. However, that is very loosely defined, giving schools a lot of wiggle room. The least appropriate is still appropriate. I had heard of the Corey H case and thought, aha, I have something to grab onto. I had even located the psychologist who had evaluated him. She wanted nothing to do with me. "I've retired," she explained. I asked her if she had a student who'd be interested. She made a less than half-hearted promise to find someone for me. Then I discovered who the attorney was. She headed up the advocacy organization I had been in contact with. "She won't talk to you," the advocacy person said to me.

This was devastating for me.  I quickly stopped pursuing due process because I had no money for an attorney, and I realized that the attorney for CPS was going to make several meals out of me. June 2010,

my husband and I spent several hundred dollars on an initial consultation with one of the top Special Ed attorneys in Chicago.  As we were leaving he lamented that not enough people in our position could afford attorneys to help their kids.  We barely could afford the consultation ourselves.  These school districts count on this to keep from providing services and/or placement that a special needs child deserves.  I've had two people now tell me that they hear similar stories too often.  School districts like CPS probably rarely have to pay up or otherwise do the right thing.

Mentally and physically disabled children are warehoused every day. They are kept secluded for the most part.  One woman on Twitter told me she has a gifted child and a special needs child.  Naturally she wants the best for both kids.  However, if it were a choice for resources for her gifted child or for her special needs child, she would prefer that the resources would go to the special needs child.  While it would be a shame for programs to be cut for her gifted child, that child would have an easier time doing without.Budgets slashed for special needs children, however, is much more devastating.  For these children to succeed they need more not less.Most people do not see it this way.  This woman told me that fellow parents of gifted children have told her that helping special needs children is a waste of resources.

The meta message is that special needs children are somehow lesser beings.  They deserve less because they are less.  Who is to say who will give more to society if given a chance?  AG Baggs, an autistic woman,

asserts in her video, In My Language   "Only when the many shapes of personhood are recognized will justice and human rights be possible."

Recognizing the "many shapes of personhood" begins at home, begins at school, and begins in our community.  The best way to restore dignity to special needs children is to  desegregate schools.  Abolish Special  Education.  Make all classrooms multi-age.  Let the children who are inclined to mentor do just that.  Let the kids who are inclined to care for younger kids or special needs kids do just that.  I am not talking about things that adults are needed for.  I am talking about modeling care, love and mutual respect, and most importantly, treating both special needs children and adults with dignity.

Special needs kids grow up to be special needs adults.  We need to find a way to allow them to be part of the community.  As I wrote in my blog post, Landscaper! There's a Weed in My Sod: Why We Need Inclusion in Classrooms and Community :

None of us are weeds to be disposed of. We all form an intricate part of the educational ecosystem. We all have our loud humanity that demands attention. And care. And understanding.

We need to stop averting our gaze from the Special Ed elephant in the room. We need to squarely face our fears and judgments of people, who, on the surface, seem different from us.   If we do not do this then we

will continue to harm portions of the population who deserve to have their humanity honored.   We need to embrace the Special Ed elephant. We need to help the Special Ed elephant dissolve peacefully away.

The Differently Deranged God of Special Ed Gathers Her Children About Her

The differently deranged god of Special Ed
gathers her children about her.
She laughs heartily.
She teaches them steadfastness.
She teaches them the art of surprise.
She teaches them that others will blink
and miss
their brilliance.
She councils them
Only reveal through fanned out feathers  .
Glimpses of your incandescent selves.

She tells them,
Others  will call you imbecile.
Others will call you idiot.
Still others will call you mental.
They will even call you retard.

She whispers consolingly
You transcend labels
they need
to compensate for their
vastly underdeveloped sense making skills.

Give no heed to those puny hearted souls,
who will never grasp that
you are more fully human than they will ever be.
While they puzzle out the mundane,
You shine. Divinely.

Special Ed Is A Fresh, Dysfunctional Hell

Special Ed is a fresh, dysfunctional hell.
The short bus putters and  sputters along its
intentionally convoluted route.
Parents in dogged pursuit are kept off kilter
by prevaricating bureaucrats who
cherry pick particular secrets
to whisper from sepia toned street corners
conflatable, untranslatable, untraceable
The answers are no, no, no, no, no.
Denials are signed in triplicate.

She is an educational anomaly.
A  round peg pounded mercilessly
into a square hole.
Wedged into a program that suits her better than most.
Programs and people do not coincide.

She giggles, grins and bears the unbearable.

I  yearn  to make sense of  the insensible.

Figure out the rhyme and reason.

Hoping for compassionate, 

conscientious and competent teachers.

Settling uneasily for someone

marking time, holding places.

Education through the looking glass reflects badly.

She is proved unteachable until proven other wise.  

Forget it, Jake, you are mistaken

if you think you can traverse

this craven, cratering landscape.

No one can cross the Special Ed steppes.

Hear the podcast of my poem. 

I'm Not One of Those Parents. I'm You

Of all the educators I've run across, Ira Socol is the most supportive of parents, especially us Special Ed folks. And yet, in his 16 October 2011 blog post, Ordinary People He mentions all the heroes of education, "teachers, principals, librarians, aides, et al who do the work", but unless et al is code for "parents" we are once again left off yet another list of people who make a difference in our kids' lives. And if I have misinterpreted this then I do apologize. It may be that my experiences have colored how I perceive this part of his post.

Ira and others explain to me or defend the omission, if you will, by once again bringing up "those parents." You know the kind. They have a sense of entitlement. They have money. They throw their considerable weight around. They make impossible demands often and quite loudly. They give those of us who genuinely care about our children a black eye.

When an educator earnestly asks me how educators can invite parents because they really want our input, I am left at a loss. I've been invited before, and it's left a bad taste in my mouth.

My initial thought is that, if they are wary like me, educators will have to invite parents repeatedly before they believe that they are really wanted and that their input is really valued.

What teachers and administrators refuse to get is that school is their turf. Even more so when we're the parents of Special Ed kids. We parents who are genuinely advocating for our kids are education's ugly step sister. Whether it's intentional or not, parents are often told go play on the freeway.

Teachers assert themselves as the experts and sometimes to a child's detriment, and we pesky parents, instead of being allowed in as full partners in our children's education, are told, implicitly, that there is no room in school for us. We ought to be exalted as the protectors of teachers and public education, be we are not. All too often we are invited for some purpose or other and then discarded.

There is an institutionalized sexism still practiced by male and female teachers alike. Most of the parents who come to school are more likely than not to be the female parent -- the mom. I have been personally bullied by women professionals,be they physical therapists working with Kid O, teachers who assert their educational authority, or principals or case managers.

We get a lot of lip service to "you know your child best," but then we are pretty aggressively shoved away. I've read tweets by both men and women educators on Twitter asserting themselves as the experts an parents, really meaning mainly moms, should keep their hands off the students This is antithetical to partnership. This is bullying of the tallest order. The message, meta and otherwise, is you're just a woman and you do not have an education degree, so back off.

Teachers and administrators need to examine how they treat parents, predominantly women, and ask yourselves the hard questions. Do you speak to women the way you to speak to men? Chances are good that educators speak to dads much more deferentially than they speak to moms, but, as my husband points out, while the communication is different, the message is still really the same. He also reminds me of a consultant who has this definition of expert: one who is a drip under pressure. (An ex spurt.)

And who sets up that pressure? It doesn't come from the middle class, working class or the poor. That pressure comes from the government and those who can buy and sell the government. It's understandable, especially in light of the current class struggle, who pushes back and why. Teachers are scrambling to hold onto whatever power and authority they've still got. Based on my experience they try to intimidate those of us who want a better education for our kids.

Before you invite parents into your classroom or some schoolwide event, do you respect them? When we were kids, we were told mind our teachers. That is not the same thing as either respecting them or agreeing with them. What we need to strive for is mutual respect and mutual support. In that regard, I am heartened by these two posts written by Josh Stumpenhorst aka stumpteacher on Twitter. He invited parents to his classroom, and, by his own admission, before he became a parent, "... I honestly viewed them simply as people I had to talk to 2-3 times a year at parent night and our two conference nights."

There are a lot of reasons why parents might not want to come to a classroom or otherwise participate in a discussion about school. First you need to make parents feel welcome. You have to show them you respect them. You have to mean it. We parents have our own crap detectors. We know whether someone is being sincere.

The sad irony is that if teachers were to give up some control, they'd find allies in people like me. When I see teachers who step up and who stick to their principles, I am the first one to support them. I am asking teachers, I've got your back, do you have mine? I'm not one of "those parents." I'm you.


Only thing I'm asking educators to do right now is Think

The Mushroom Liberation Front, Liberating Parents From the Mushroom Farm

Note: Because Kid O was in five schools, I refer to School Number Two, School Number Three, School Number Four to hopefully avoid confusion and to give a sense of a timeline.

Kid O just started high school. For those keeping score at home,this will be her sixth school. Technically only her fifth school, as her second school and fifth school are one and the same.. I decided to let her return to School Number Two after a year at School Number Four... well, I'd rather not talk about it. She would not have been in so many schools in the first place if School Number Three hadn't unceremoniously booted her out because it was the only way to solve an overcrowding problem.

I buttonholed the case manager. "When is (Kid O's real name) going to learn how to read and write," I asked her. She looked back and gave me a tight smile. "We don't have a reading program here."

I squared my shoulders and tried to act ask as if I weren't seething inside and wanting to smack her. "I'd like to speak with the principal," I said in my best authoritative voice.

The principal looked at me smugly from across the desk. She told me that she was very proud of her program, and people around the state wanted to emulate it. I was horrified. She was proud of ensuring that children in her school were not going to learn how to read or write. I leaned forward and tapped my finger on her desk, accenting every word. If Kid O wasn't going to learn to read or write at her school, then I wanted her transfered to another school.

The first year Kid O was in School Number Two, she was with a really good teacher who "got" her to the point where she could do a really great imitation of Kid O's "I don't suffer fools gladly" look. Even though the school psychologist said, at age six, that Kid O would never learn how to read or write, the first teacher at the second school gave me hope that it was possible. That teacher could read Kid O's eye gaze. She'd tell me that Kid O would indicate the answers to other kids. It's possible. She's very expressive. That teacher had her "I don't suffer fools gladly look" down pat. I felt so encouraged. Perhaps, I thought, this child really can be taught how to read and write, if only she had the proper technology.

Days before the next school year was to begin, I received a call from the case manager. She suddenly had to make room for other kids. She was bumping Kid O from a second year with this great teacher. The new teacher called for a new IEP meeting straight away. She dumbed down the goals considerably. She was a younger, less experienced teacher, who clearly was lacking in both observational skills and critical thinking. The technology Kid Q was using was a two picture talker. When I tried to object to that I was told, "baby steps." We already had done baby steps. Kid O was seven. When was she going to be treated as if she really could learn? As I mentioned I dropped the hearing I wanted. Sadly I not only didn't have the money for an attorney, I didn't really have the emotional wherewithal then, either. So Kid O spent yet a second year with that teacher and with abysmally bad technology.

The principal of School Number Three, who is an affable fella, indicated this was not entirely his decision but highly suggested to him by the powers that be from downtown. At least that was his story and he was sticking to it, as we pleaded with him to allow her to remain. So much for the "you can stay here as long as the grass is green and the rivers run" type of promise that the previous principal had made to us. While there is an inherent NIMBY (not in my backyard) attitude towards Special Ed kids, this school had been different. Kid O had been at home there for four years, and it was difficult to have to uproot her.

When I chose School Number Four, it was based on it being ABSNT (anything but School Number Two). When it came to school choices, it was 1) take it or 2) leave it, ie, return Kid O to the abysmal situation I had removed her from or try something unknown. Similar to the options we had had four years earlier. One thing about only two options is that you have a fifty percent chance of moving to a better situation.

The principal at School Number Four was right about one thing. Kid O had a very good teacher, who was a good advocate for her kids. If she and the case manager had stayed, I would have put up with potential problems from the principal and other staff. This teacher was beginning to doubt previous findings, and I was starting to have hope in a change of label.

One of the problems with the school is that the layout screamed, SEGREGATION. They had built an addition to the building, that allowed all the Special Ed kids to be entirely in a separate wing. General Ed kids didn't have to interact with Special Ed kids, except maybe in the lunchroom or school assemblies.

At School Number Three there was some attempt at allowing Kid O to be part of the school community. For a while she had a job bringing lunch money to the office. There was also an attempt to have Kid O sit in on a fourth grade math class. But by and large she has remained segregated. Did my heart good, one year at Fun Fest, to see ablebodied kids say hi to Kid O. Although they treated her more like a little kid and less like their peer, it was considerably better than no interactions at all.

The person most instrumental in getting Kid O an eight panel talker was the wonderful and often greatly missed Ms. AK She also redid the IEP line by line. In twelve years of Kid O being in the system, Ms. AK is the only one who ever took the time to explain to me what I was signing. Much of the IEPs were bogus, merely CYA stuff that didn't do anything else.

I have two degrees in English, but it wasn't until recently that I finally realized what "low incidence" meant. That sounds good, doesn't it? After all if a neighborhood has a low incidence of crime, that's where I want to live. But "low incidence" in public education is a whole different other matter. What that is code for is, "your child is a dummy." Language like that is so that we don't question what kind of education a child is getting, or in Kid O's case, not getting. IEPs, I have discovered, are generally not what they are cracked up to be. Far as I am concerned, IEPs need to be reformed along with the rest of education.

After Ms. AK died, the therapy team kept me from knowing important information and from participating in meetings they were having with trying to figure out what was the best positioning of Kid O's communication device. Without me there to help Kid O express herself, they remained unsuccessful in figuring out what worked for her. I am sure that the physical therapist did this because she disapproved of things I was doing, and so I was kept in the dark much to Kid O's detriment. What they did was both unprofessional and unforgivable.

School Number Four's case manager helped me get an addendum to the IEP where I signed the appropriate forms for an assistive tech eval. In nine, ten years that was probably the easiest request I've ever made. In addition to the eight panel talker, Kid O was given IntelliKeys. While all of this has been a step in the right direction, Kid O's ability to interact is still very limited.

I would never presume to compare what is happening to Kid O and other kids in the Chicago Public Schools to the sexual abuse scandal that has been repeatedly covered up by the Vatican. There is, however, one important similarity: the secrecy and the stonewalling. Years ago I was driving around listening to NPR when they broadcast a story about a monk who reluctantly went from school to school to quietly hush things up. After hearing many stories of abuse, he decided to teach himself canon law. Then he offered his services to the attorneys who were trying to get information from the Vatican. He taught them who to ask and exactly what to ask. And, in this regard, there is a great deal of similarity between the two situations.

Unless a parent knows who to ask and what to ask, they are incapable of getting services for their child. I have received information here and there, but, even so, there are roadblocks. I was told once that the Chicago Public Schools had warehouses full of equipment just waiting to be requested. Few people ever do because they don't know the stuff exists. They don't know it exists because no one ever tells them. So not only does a parent need to know the exact perfect words to help you gain entree into the world of Special Services bureaucracy, but you don't even know what's available. If there are warehouses filled with stuff, then where is it and who has access to it? What are the precise magic words to ask? Justice cannot be obtained if one is treated like a mushroom. Kept in the dark, and, well, you know the rest.

That is why it's crucial for advocates to help other advocates. Point the rest of us to necessary information. After all these years I still don't know what to ask for. When Kid O's wonderful teacher, Ms.AK died, so did my hopes of any real access to the appropriate downtown people. Did you know there was a director of a department called Children With Multiple Needs? Me neither. But there is. Might not still be the same person who headed it up before, but no doubt there is someone in that position. I didn't find this out through someone who worked for Chicago Public Schools. I found this out elsewhere.

Few people tell you what is possible. Few people in education are willing to go out on a limb to help a parent out. They are much too concerned about keeping their jobs, and that means supporting the bureaucracy, ie, Downtown. Even the one principal I have truly trusted let me down. When I asked her if it were possible to get this particular communication device, she responded, without missing a beat, "too expensive."

They know they can say that because they know that most parents cannot afford the attorney needed to challenge that. Parents in our situation are more likely to go along with the status quo. We lack information, and, more importantly, we lack energy to force the hand of such a large bureaucracy. Moral: Even your allies are not your allies. I probably came the closest to challenging this bureaucracy and even I gave up. Friend of mine, in response to another matter, said, "You have done all of this advocating without an attorney?" Yes, I have. But it's fallen short. And why have my efforts fallen short? Attorneys and other experts cost money. Not enough money to counter Chicago Public Schools and their bureaucracy.

We need transparency. We need someone who can run behind the curtain and expose the bureaucracy. We need people who are willing to explain, in plain English, why cases like Corey H not only do not lead to equality, but, in actuality, allow for more loopholes and consequently more secrecy. The law says the Chicago Public Schools only need to do what is appropriate. What that really means is that principals, teachers and case managers are not required to offer options to a parent. They are not required to tell a parents about what resources are available.

That means that if a child like Kid O who has multiple needs doesn't receive services from the department which handles such things, oh, well. They just need to do what is appropriate, and offering up critical information is not part of their job description. Score another one for big bureaucracy. And score another goose egg for the hapless parents who feel they have no choice but to give up and accept whatever meager scraps they can get. And, meanwhile, children like Kid O, say it with me now, fall through the cracks. If that seems like a recurring theme on this blog, it's because that is what has happened before the Corey H case and that is what continues to happen. The Chicago Public Schools continues on as a bloated bureaucracy and few are the wiser. Maybe I can liberate myself from the mushroom farm, and take other parents of Special Ed kids with me. Time will tell.

Kid O Talks Back. Eventually.

Note:Kid O has now been to five schools and about to start a sixth. I refer to School Number Two and School Number Three.

One of the ongoing problems and frustrations that I have faced in advocating for Kid O, has been in getting her an effective and more portable communication device. For years all she had was a two panel talker. A choice between Choice One and Choice Two. I was there at School Number Two when they came to re-evaluate her. They were again recommending a two panel talker. Why only two again, I asked. "Baby steps," I was informed. Kid O, who by then was at least seven, eight years old, had all ready been using a two panel talker since she was three and a half. "She's already been doing this," I explained, to no one in particular, since it was clear that the man and woman from downtown weren't really interested in hearing what I had to say. But then again Special Ed kids are neither to be seen nor heard, and they were probably just doing what they had been instructed to do by someone else with more sway than me.

I decided to try to make them do the right thing through due process. The law says that the schools must do what is appropriate. However, that is very loosely defined, giving schools a lot of wiggle room. The least appropriate is still appropriate. I had heard of the Corey H case and thought, aha, I have something to grab onto. I had even located the psychologist who had evaluated him. She wanted nothing to do with me. "I've retired," she explained. I asked her if she had a student who'd be interested. She made a less than half-hearted promise to find someone for me. Then I discovered who the attorney was. She headed up the advocacy organization I had been in contact with. "She won't talk to you," the advocacy person said to me.

I was both shocked and disheartened by door after door being slammed in my face. It was only years later, on Twitter, that I discovered why. But at the time I couldn't understand it. I needed these people. More importantly, my daughter needed these people. My husband was unemployed at the time in what turned out to be a prolonged period of unemployment. We could not afford an attorney.

After a conference call between me, the hearting officer and the attorney for CPS, I realized that I did not have what I needed in support to pursue this on my own. I felt the attorney was going to eat me for breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack. It was with great sadness that I dropped this. Years later I still feel this profound sense of failure. I was unable to get what Kid O needed most, and that was a way to participate in her own education and in the community.

When I asked the advocacy guy what I need to do to get a communication device for our daughter, he said you have to ask for exactly what you want. You have to phrase things perfectly. Precise language matters. Being a writer, I don't object to that. What I object to is that few people will really tell you what you need to say and to whom. The same department handles both evaluation requests for augmentative communication devices and assistive technology, but you need to fill out two request forms. At least they've made that a form. Used to be you had to write a letter. A real letter. With a stamp. Who does that these days?

At School Number Three I thought the therapy staff was working on it, only to find out they hadn't followed through. When I asked why they hadn't,. they told me they'd only help Kid O, if she could demonstrate that she could tell them what blue and/or yellow was. I was upset, to put it mildly. The physical therapist and the speech therapist were essentially holding Kid O hostage. Unless she performed like a trained seal, they were going to hold up what she needed.

I tried to appeal to the one woman on the team who had children. How would she feel if her daughter had to show she knew blue or yellow before she got the services she was entitled to and were essential to her engaging in school and in community? She agreed that she would feel as I did, but it was clear she had no influence over the two younger women. Nor did the teacher who took Ms. AK's place when she retired..

This woman had no idea how to assert her authority. At all. Everyone walked over her. I even tried to teach her how to do that, but it was useless. Ms. AK's replacement was a very nice woman, but she was very weak in leadership skills. Ms AK ran a tight ship. Her replacement's "ship" had leaks all over the place. Those two years were a hapless situation, and with no mentor, that teacher was rudderless. One thing I had to finally insist on with this woman was that she was there to teach and not be a caregiver.
Because she had never taught before, it was especially tragic that Kid O's beloved Ms. AK had died right before the school year began. If she hadn't, then this new teacher would have had a mentor. But the new teacher didn't have a mentor, despite my request to the principal that she have one.

Because I didn't have a teacher like Ms AK to help keep this team accountable to me, Kid O still continues with a clunky eight panel talker. While it beats a two panel talker, it's still ineffective. Also, given what I've seen as of late, I can see how outmoded it is, too. Might require some adaptation, but the newer devices would be more portable and allow for independence. Changing out one laminated panel for another does not enable independence no matter how you try to spin it.

Communication shouldn't require "staff." These devices are useful for school where they need information from Kid O as to what she would like to eat or drink or what she'd like to do next, but it does not allow her to have an actual conversation.To reduce human interaction to a series of choices is really objectionable. No speech enabled person would stand for it, and yet that is all Kid O has.. That is how scientists treat lab rats. It should not be how we treat human beings.

Kid O is fifteen and still is unable to express her innermost thoughts because the Chicago Public Schools has only provided her with a device that works for and is convenient for them. She conveys to them what they want to know, but not what she wants to tell you, me, and everyone else. There is no way to have a spontaneous exchange, which is one of the glories of speech. Real speech, real interactions are not planned. They are as real and as deep as life itself.

Singing Into The Desert, How the Gift Economy May Save Our Schools

George Carlin tells us to not try to change education because, They don’t want a population of citizens capable of critical thinking.

George Carlin ~ The American Dream

Carlin concludes: "Its called the American Dream,because you have to be asleep to believe it."

Would Carlin be stating this more or less forcefully in light of what has been going on in Wisconsin, Ohio, and Michigan? What would he think about educators and parents about to participate, in person or in spirit, in the Save Our Schools march and rally? Would he think us all a bunch of chumps?

Perhaps he'd say, "It’s never going to get any better, don’t look for it, be happy with what you’ve got."

But perhaps he would cheer on all the Save Our Schools marchers who are earnestly trying to turn things around for all our children.

In Caveat's post at the Burning Man blog, The “Gift Economy” isn’t an economy at all, but that’s no excuse for your terrible, terrible gift , he speaks about being given a five foot tall copper staff hand with the only condition being that he hold it high and sing into the desert until the desert answers. Eventually, after he has sung his heart out, the desert did answer.

I have often felt, as I have advocated for Kid O, that I wander through the desert searching for an oasis.. Sometimes when I pour my heart out on Twitter, it feels much the same way. But every so often someone says, "Miss Shuganah?"

Who will listen to the marchers? Who will listen to those of us there only in spirit? How do we hold up the banner of eduction reform, and not have the ghost of George Carlin say, "told ya so." How do we move beyond good intentions? How do we keep this energy going so that this march does not end up being yet another "terrible gift," that looks good and feels good but doesn't end up being meaningful, effective and, more importantly, sustainable?

I read a blog post at The Coffee Klatch MFP grant helps people with disabilities transition from institutions to quality community settings and got me wondering about coming up with something similar to an MFP or Money Follows the Person grant but on a larger, more expansive scale?

What if we took the bureaucracy out of this entirely and found ways, within a community, to act as an open stewardship for an entire school district? We could do this through a gift economy, where people donated time and services. Think of the meaningful connections we could form. Disabled kids could help one another. Or an ablebodied kid could tutor a kid like Kid O in math. That may be more of a challenge for most kids, but they would discover that Kid O had, at the very least, the gift of laughter to offer in return, and, at best, an engaged learner. Kid O could benefit from interacting with her peers, and they could gain insight into what life is like for someone who has physical challenges.

The best gifts we can give our children is a well rounded eduction where we can teach them how to lead authentic, ethical and honorable lives. We could all be enriched by engaging in collaborative efforts to teach all of our children. Some might donate resources. Some may donate time. Some may advocate for a better future for all. The way things are now, school is separate from community. Isn't it time that we reconnected school with the community? We underuse our school buildings. We could turn them into real community centers that served everyone in the community instead of just a certain segment of the population.

Granted, this would take time to develop, but what if communities ran the schools? What if a community took care of a school so that all needs were met? If we could shift attitudes that school is just for kids, then we could rebuild not just schools but entire communities. We are all responsible for the elderly, the disabled and the infirm. Everyone deserves opportunities to be part of a community, be useful and really thrive

Money is funneled into schools in a way that perpetuates inequality. The largest donors get the biggest say. That would not happen in a gift economy. As Caveat suggests in his blog post, a lot of people are unclear of the concept. Trinkets are OK. Sandwiches are better .At least they nurture the body.

When Bill Gates throws money at schools, he is allowed to have a say in educational policy that gives him power over communities in a way that is unconscionable. It makes him, as George Carlin would put it, an owner. That places an obligation on schools to produce, ie, capitulate to "owners" by adhering to untenable policies of standardized testing.

Imagine, instead, if we had a way to support schools without Bill Gates' money and without him and Sam Walton and other "owners" being able to dictate policy. So many schools are spiritually dead. We could, community by community, breathe new life into schools. if we sing into the desert, maybe we will answer one another. Joyfully and Resolutely.