There's a lot going on at the district level right now. Wacky capacity problems--too much here, too little there. Growing budget woes (my favorite line from parent Charlie Mas: "Perhaps people are just used to the staff announcing financial ruin at the start of every budget cycle only to announce their fiscal strength at the end of every budget cycle"). A state auditor's report recommending that schools be closed and administrative staff trimmed. Facilities dilemmas. Etc. etc.

The Seattle Public Schools blog is doing an admirable job of tracking all these fires... ahem, developments, one reason that I haven't dived into them here.

Also, I get the sneaking suspicion that we've been here before, time and again, fighting the same flare-ups in the same stop-gap way. And with everyone running to contain the latest blaze, we never have the time and focus needed to rework the system, permanently dousing those fires. We never recoup the energy or inspiration desperately needed by our educational system. Heck, we hardly get around to even replicating wildly successful programs in our district.

Yesterday, I was stuck without my computer, instead reading through the education issue of Good Magazine. Gary Stager's article, "School Wars," is especially provocative, stating this near the beginning:

Our schools may very well be in crisis, but not for the reasons bandied about in the press. The crisis is not based on teacher pay, lack of accountability, or a lack of rigor. The problem is that we do not create productive contexts for learning in which the needs of each child are met as their talent, interest, curiosity, and passion are amplified. The last thing we need is another sweeping top-down reform. In fact, it is my belief that the dominant solution to any educational challenge will be wrong and make the problem worse.

Stager takes on NCLB, charter schools, Bill Gates and Eli Broad (especially Eli Broad) for their role in shaping education. He asks a damning rhetorical question:

One way to navigate this new era of "giving" is by asking a simple question: Would these folks send their own children or grandchildren to their "reinvented" schools? Is a steady diet of memorization, work sheets, and testing the sort of education the children they love receive? Of course not. If affluent children enjoy beautiful campuses, arts programs, interesting literature, modern technology, field trips, carefree recess, and teachers who know them, I suggest that we create such schools for all children. What's good for the sons and daughters of the billionaires should be good enough the rest of the children, too.

Stager doesn't give public school parents a break, either, closing his article with this:

Amending No Child Left Behind won't fix these problems. Neither will asking the billionaires and businessmen to try to be a little more careful with our children's education. These solutions filled the void we created with our own apathy and complacency. And we are not powerless to reverse the recent trends and make public schools wondrous learning environments for all children.

But in order to achieve such equity of opportunity, parents need to be vigilant and take a stand. Parents can go to back-to-school night this fall. If the science lab contains no equipment, they should demand to know why and not wait patiently while the district hopes they forget. If their first grader was excited about going to school, but by the third day cries hysterically and says, "The teacher hates me," his concerns should be taken seriously. If their kid's school is test-obsessed, parents should let teachers and administrators know that they expect more of an education. If every parent was vocally fighting for the best public schools for their children--instead of some of the most involved and caring opting out in disgust--the government would be forced to listen.

Because despite their flaws, inequities, and shortcomings, public schools are an American treasure owned by the citizens, and we should treat them as a public trust.

Stager's call to action, then, brings us back to the local--back to those fires. But I'm beginning to wonder--just what can we do as parents to drive change in our district? Are we focused on the right fronts?

Several notes have come home from my son's 5th grade teacher this year. Among other things, the notes have politely pleaded with parents to not let their kids bring electronics--particularly cell phones--into the classroom.

Despite this request, I watched one of the kids whip out a Nintendo DS on a recent field trip, and from my son, I know that several kids have parents who insist that they need a cell phone at school.

Teachers have relented somewhat, requiring that the phones remain turned off during school. If parents need to contact their kids, they have to go via the office--a clunky alternative to texting "bus hm," especially if the secretary is cranky or overwhelmed with other stuff.

So I'm curious to know--when it comes to things like "no cellphones at school," do you, as a parent, bend the rules? Have you ever broken a school rule?

"The toughest job in America." That's how Dan Domenech, executive director of the American Association of School Administrators describes the role of an urban school superintendent in an AP article from today's Seattle Times.

I don't know that I agree with Domenech, but I'm sure the job has its challenges.

The article talks about superintendent turnover--the average urban superintendent sticks around for about 3 years.

Our own superintendent, Maria Goodloe-Johnson, took the helm here in 2007, after a stint in Charleston, SC, that began in 2003. She wasn't there long enough to see the results of her touted Charleston Plan for Excellence, a six-year strategic plan she put into place in 2004.

Now Goodloe-Johnson has plans for Seattle, but I sometimes wonder whether she'll be around long enough to see them through. Sure, the Seattle School Board gave Goodloe-Johnson a fat raise and extended her contract, a hasty move that mystified district watchers--Charlie Mas blogs that the Superintendent Evaluation instrument is just being developed now. Yep, after the raise and contract extension.

(By the way, Raj Manhas served as superintendent for three years, after Joseph Olchefske, the previous superintendent, resigned amid budget mismanagement. Olchefske served four years. The ghosts of their plans still haunt the district, too.)

Beyond the turmoil and expense of high superintendent turnover, what are the costs? The Seattle Times article ends with one:

After a decade in St. Louis, Lori and Eric Peterson and their children are moving to the suburbs because they feel the district has let them down.

Already this school year, fourth-grader Isabella has once arrived home an hour late because the fill-in bus driver didn't know the route. Third-grader Zain is worried his grade may still be split into smaller groups, potentially taking him away from classmates he began the school year with.

Lori Peterson said she has complained, but to no avail.

"Do we stay and try to prove a point that we're 'city' people?' " she asked. "Or do we leave because that's in the best interest of our children?"

How are you feeling about Superintendent Goodloe-Johnson? Is she restoring your confidence in the district? Have you seen any positive changes as the result of her leadership? Any negatives?

Economic chaos hijacked this week, taking over the airwaves and overshadowing pretty much everything else. Last night, my own kids got to see me yelling at CNN in frustration--a rarity, considering that you're more likely to find Mythbusters than Wolf Blitzer on our TV.

The turmoil even hit parenting blogs, with The Juggle dedicating two different posts (here and here) to kids and finances, and Free Range Kids, where I occasionally contribute, pondering whether a "Great Depression for Kids" could have a ... well, not silver lining, but a good side to it.

Always curious about what kids are up to at school, I asked my 5th grade son whether any of his classmates were talking about Wall Street or economic stuff at school. No, he answered. They're hip to presidential candidates, but beyond that, more focused on the micro-sociopolitical scene on the playground.

What about your kids? Are they impacted by the recent economic news?

The following came via Seattle Green Schools network:

Take a Child Outside Week
September 24--September 30, 2008

Take A Child Outside Week is a program designed to help break down obstacles that keep children from discovering the natural world. By arming parents, teachers and other caregivers with resources on outdoor activities, our goal is to help children across the country develop a better understanding and appreciation of the environment in which they live, and a burgeoning enthusiasm for its exploration.
Going outside:

* connects children to the natural world
* helps kids focus in school
* reduces chances of obesity

So take a child outside!

With our first early-dismissal day upon us, and the sun in the sky (at least for now), sounds like good advice.

Another opportunity to get outside and learn arrives this Saturday, with the Harvest Celebration Farm Tour hosted by King County farmers and WSU.

Do you have any other ideas for getting outside this week?

Today feels like an open-thread sort of day to me.

There's been a lot of good discussion about the capacity issues north of the Ship Canal, particularly in NE Seattle.

But what else is on your mind? What else is happening in your kid's school?

Last night was "back to school" night at our son's school. You know, where parents learn what their kids will be doing throughout the year.

My husband was game to go, while I hung out with the kids. Since I often hog all the school meetings and events for myself, this was fair. And while my husband cares about the district in a sort of general way, his real interest is in our own kids' education--what's coming home in the backpack and how they apply their knowledge in the real world. Not school board stuff. Not community meetings. Not even education blogs. He knows I have those domains covered.

It's hard to send my husband out into what I consider to be my territory. He dutifully picked up any flyers he came across and made a few quick notes in the margin--a total of about five sentences covering the one hour meeting.

"Is that it?!" I shrieked. No, he said, the principal said something about capacity, the teacher talked about his teaching style, and one of the parents--he had no idea whose parent--asked a question...

And because we were on the front edge of the kids' bedtime, that was all the information I got. About 30 seconds worth. I imagine I'll get the rest of the details later on, maybe this weekend.

I'm curious--how do you divvy up duties with your significant other on the education front?

Tuesday night's meeting at Roosevelt to discuss school capacity in North Seattle was packed to the roof with parents, politicians, school board members, principals, district staff...just about everyone but our uber-low-profile superintendent, Maria Goodloe-Johnson.

One of the most startling moments came toward the end of the meeting. We were sharing (isn't that what we always do in consensus-happy Seattle?) each table's top priorities. With 300+ people, you can imagine how that went. At least we weren't doing the dot-voting thing.

But then a mom at one table stood up. "Let me just ask," she said, "how many of you have kids under the age of five who will be attending kindergarten in the next few years?" A sea of hands shot up. Talking with a dad later on who had a better view than me, he estimated about 85% of the room had raised their hands.

Is it just a bubble? A blip? According to one of the other parents who spoke, a district person told her that they are reluctant to dump a bunch of money and time into re-opening mothballed buildings because maybe this is just a bubble, an isolated little baby boom in parts of Seattle. After all, according to the district, overall enrollment is on a slow decline. They just kind of miscalculated where the growth and shrinkage would be across the district, back when they made 10 year projections in 1999.

Those projections have been revised, based on the work of an outside consultant, DeJong Inc., earlier this year. You can link to their projections here.

So let me step back for a moment, jump back to the beginning of the meeting. The meeting facilitator was careful to say this session was just to brainstorm short term solutions for elementary school enrollment. The almost-middle-school-mom sitting next to me was out of luck.

After all the niceties (kids coloring activities in the back! We just got word that Steve Sundquist has joined us!), the tables throughout the packed commons area were tasked with prioritizing the district's list of potential capacity solutions: 1) conduct space efficiency evaluations to find underutilized space, i.e. convert that courtyard to a classroom; 2) create new classrooms within existing buildings, by divvying up big classrooms into more smaller classrooms; 3) Minor modifications to the current Student Assignment Plan--you know, so your kid can take an even longer bus ride each day, 4) consider program placements, 4) Add portables, the costly yet relatively uncontroversial bandaid approach.

We were also given a list of "other options discussed," which the facilitator pointed out were not considered as solutions. In other words, page 4 of the packet was off the table. Kind of like that magical, beautiful sapphire ring in the window that's not for sale. (These options included opening a closed building like Sandpoint; modifying assignment plan tiebreakers to alternative schools; and consolidating under-capacity schools, repurposing or changing status to a reference area school.)

But then, Ed Murray, State Senator from the 43rd District, just happened to be sitting at my table, along with district expert and parent Melissa Westbrook and PI reporter Jessica Blanchard. Talk about a trifecta!

Ed Murray said that none of the district's five options work. He questioned the whole reluctance on the part of the district to re-open buildings that have been mothballed or leased out to community groups--indeed, the district said it would take millions of dollars and at least two years to get one of these buildings up to speed. "I don't buy that," Ed said, noting that if the right group of stakeholders--state government, city government and the school district--want it done, it can happen fast. And he's willing to push this one at the legislative level.

Ed noted that with transportation changing where people live and work, it's reasonable to expect more families might flock back into the city. And with the economy on shaky ground, Melissa said there might be opportunities to attract private school families back to the public system.

Oh, if we only had space for them... drat!

I realized what I don't like about the district's five proposed ideas is that like always, it puts the burden on the kids, families and teachers. Someone's program is gonna get moved (and usually it's special ed or a less-popular alternative program). Someone's bright, airy classroom is going to be chopped in half, with the same 28 kids crowding into half the space. Someone's playground will be invaded by portables. And you know what? While portables create classroom space, they don't create cafeteria space, gym space for PE, or library space. As a result, kids' access to those spaces is limited, and lunch becomes a "shift."

Re-opening a mothballed building, on the other hand, puts the burden on the district to get their building up to speed and provide programs that will attract families. After all, why are we holding on to those old buildings? Could it be to provide additional capacity when demographic changes occur? Nah... surely not!

Some of the parent suggestions, while good, highlighted the absurdity of the capacity issue. For instance, there was the very reasonable suggestion that the district should rent commercial space or community center space for classrooms. And then, here we are renting our old school buildings to outside tenants because we ostensibly don't need the space. Huh?

A lot of people at the meeting--a lot--took aim at Summit, the alternative program housed at the Jane Addams building, across from Nathan Hale. I'll admit, I'm on the fence with this one. As an alternative school parent myself, I think families are drawn to alternative programs more for the program than the location, and it's true that when other schools are converting their janitor's closets to classrooms, the district should take a look at any big, not-full buildings in a crowded cluster. But, I really believe this should be a last resort. It puts the burden on 500+ kids and their families, not on the district that has known for several years (long enough to open a mothballed building on their own timeline!) that this problem was coming.

What to do? I'm very proud of my fellow parents at the meeting. As the hired facilitator closed the session, parents demanded to hear, from a district employee, what their top three "take-aways" were. Another parent also asked the district, based on the meeting, what the call to action is, but there was no response.

There's still time to act, though. The district's Capacity Planning page should have minutes from the community meetings after September 26th. From that page, you can link to the meeting handouts and a feedback form. They are accepting feedback through October 7th.

Viewlands on 9/14/08

I hadn't thought about Viewlands until I heard a few parents who live near the school talking last week.

In the year that Viewlands has been closed, it temporarily housed a squatter and was visited by thieves who stripped out the copper wiring. It's been tagged and painted over again and again. My son and I stopped by there Sunday to see the school for ourselves. The edges of colorful kid-created murals still peek out from broad, puke-brown patches of paint.

My son is convinced the school is haunted--he's really into ghost-hunting these days. He's sort of right. The school is haunted. Not by spirits of mean librarians or dictatorial principals, though.

No, Viewlands is haunted by something else. According to the parents I know, the school district and Seattle Police Department punted responsibility for maintaining building security back and forth for awhile. In the meantime, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of damage was done.

And now, guess what? The district is hosting meetings tonight and tomorrow to discuss capacity problems in parts of North Seattle, where several school buildings sit either vacant or underutilized by community programs.

I'm wondering--do you live near closed school building? Which one? What should the district do with this funny problem it has--too many buildings and too many kids?

Monday night, I attended Mother on Fire, aka comedian and NPR commentator Sandra Tsing Loh's book reading at Elliott Bay Books.

She dropped an interesting tidbit during the Q & A, which had inevitably turned to national politics.

Loh, a rabid supporter of public schools, noted that Barack Obama's children attend the private University of Chicago Lab School. Biden's kids? Private. McCain's kids? Private.

Sarah Palin's kids? Wasilla Public Schools, according to Loh.

Waving her arms about wildly, Loh expressed outrage at this. "This should belong to us, to the Democrats! We should be the ones to claim our kids attend public schools!"

And if those schools are so crappy that no one wants to send their kids to them? "Then we should be headed out into the streets!" Loh thunders.

Does Loh, a diehard Democrat, think Sarah Palin is pro-education? No. But she does have a point about liberals--how, ahem, sometimes all our talk doesn't exactly match our actions.

Several times, Loh mentioned the standard line from middle-class parents in LA, where she lives with her family: "The school system is so big, with over 700,000 kids... nobody goes there!"

What do you think--do self-proclaimed liberals have an obligation to invest in public schools, not just by voting for levies and tax hikes, but also by sending their kids there? Should politics and social justice weigh in when it comes to choosing a school for your own kid?