psychology dector

The New York Times announced a new initiative in American education where students take an exam at the end of tenth grade that would allow them to skip the last two years of high school and go directly to community college. The plan is “modeled largely on systems in high-performing nations including Denmark, England, Finland, France and Singapore,” according to reporter Sam Dillon. The program is the brainchild of the National Center on Education and the Economy. Here is how the system would work. Sophomore students take an exam at the conclusion of their second year. Those with a passing score on the exam have the option of moving on to community college, or they could elect to remain for the final two years of high school. Those not scoring well on the exam would be required to stay, but could retake the test at the end of eleventh and twelfth grades. The test would include major core subjects like English, math, science and history. It is also interesting to note who is behind th

I spent the days right before we broke for Christmas vacation huddled with several other English teachers and school administrators trying to devise a marketing plan for our school. Yes, we teach English, and also work in advertising. We are the new “Madmen.” The poor economy has caused a drop in enrollment at private schools like the one where I teach. This means cutting back, and layoffs for teachers and support personnel. We are forced, like so many other industries in these troubled times, to do more with less. But the other reason why we lost students last year has nothing to do with the economy. Parents now are shopping for better extra curricular activities, or additional sports teams, or more music, art and dance programs. The greatest interest, however, is in whatever school can guarantee their child’s acceptance into the college of their choice. In effect, they are school-hopping in a search of the Holy Grail of education: college admissions. No school can guarantee college

I am pleased that Los Angeles schools Superintendent Ramon C. Cortines rediscovered his ethics at the end of last week. God knows we don’t need another school official demonstrating moral bankruptcy; students can see enough of that on the internet beginning with Tiger Woods’ robotic apology. (Is he sorry for his transgression or simply sorry he got caught?) Superintendent Cortines is paid $250,000 a year by the Los Angeles Unified School District, according to the Los Angeles Times , “below average for a leader of a large school district.” I don’t feel too bad about that when I see how many teachers were laid off at the end of last year due to budget constraints. In addition to his regular salary, Scholastic Inc. paid him more than $150,000 to sit on their board. That company “received more than $16 million over the last five years from contracts with the Los Angeles Unified School District,” again according to the Los Angeles Times . Of course, Cortines did not come to his mea culpa

Stone’s ashes arrived yesterday via UPS. It seems they need an adult, 21 years or older, to sign for them, and since we were both teaching, the delivery attempt was a failure. So, at eight o’clock at night we went to the ass-end of Van Nuys to stand in line behind a guy complaining he didn’t get his television from QVC to retrieve our dog’s remains. Plain, brown box with a weight of four pounds. A ninety-pound dog reduced to four pounds of ashes. The house is empty. Here in Los Angeles, the highs are hovering in the eighty degree range with clear, blue skies. It feels like April or May, but it is still the dead of winter. Most nights we sit in front of the television eating our dinner and watching the Winter Olympics. I have discovered that I have distracted myself from some very difficult times with the Winter Olympics over the years. In 1994, we had a large earthquake that nearly took down our apartment building, and did in fact close the school where we were teaching for a while. I

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.” William Shakespeare Hamlet Act IV, Sc. 5 In the midst of a number of significant crises last week, Stone died. His back legs were nearly useless, but his personality and intelligence remained untouched until the end. He slipped away as I held him in my arms on the floor of an exam room at our vet’s office. He was ten years old. I used to think the teacher was the guy who knew all the answers. Over time, I have learned that the questions are far more important. Stone’s death made me realize how much I do not know about this life, and how much I may never understand. How can such a gentle creature suffer so much? Where is he now, and is he alone? And how do we live in a world where we are destined to die? The teacher should be the one who asks the questions and is willing to follow those questions into the darkest parts of human existence to find the answers and bring them back to enlighten others. So, I will continue t

Two things happened last week to remind me that our depressed economy continues. I went to see my tax lady. This year, I thought she looked a little grimmer than usual. “How bad was it for you guys this year?” she asked as we sat down at her desk. We told her about the cuts at school, teachers laid off, belt-tightening all around. “But it seems like we might be pulling out of it,” I offered. She shook her head. “People are desperate. Unemployment. Underemployment. Not enough taxes taken out because everyone tries to stretch their dollars. Then they come in here and find out they owe a ton.” She grimaced. “If this country doesn’t get some industry going, we are not going to recover.” Granted, she is not an economist, but she has always been dead on with her financial advice to me, and many years she has saved me a lot of money, so I trust her. She also sees a nice cross-section of people filing through her office at tax time. The second thing that happened was more telling. I ran an ad

Stone the Weimaraner is not doing well these days. Last week, his chronically weak back legs began to fail him. I would have to wrap a sheet around his hind quarters and lift him up the two steps into the house. If he went up or down the steps on his own, he would fall, or careen wildly around trying to keep his balance. Then, the worst became a reality. He began to fall when urinating, usually right into the puddle of fresh pee. He would look up at me as I tried to help him, his face a tight mask of embarrassment. Yes, my dog gets embarrassed. I’d gently wipe him down, take the bed sheet, and help him back into the house. By the end of the week, his back paws were dragging as we walked. He looked like he might be partially paralyzed. It took a Herculean effort to get him into the car and to the vet’s office. Once there, I worked with two large vet techs to lift him out of our vehicle and carry him into the exam room where he promptly collapsed on the floor. As I knelt beside him, he