A "Courageous Conversation" about race

Aki Mori

By Aki Mori
My school district is sincere and purposeful about reducing "the achievement gap," a term that exists ubiquitously in public education circles. Even if you were not a teacher like me, you might correctly guess that the achievement gap refers to the persistent and troubling difference in academic achievement between White students on the one hand, and Black, Latino, and Native American students on the other. (Asian students don't easily fit into the dichotomy, a topic for another time.) 

As a major component in a larger strategy to combat this pernicious gap, my school district -- like many districts across the country -- has made a philosophical and financial investment in the approach outlined in the groundbreaking book "Courageous Conversations" by Glenn Singleton and Wallace Linton. Last week I just finished reading the book as a pre-condition to attending a district-sponsored training session, which I will attend in August to become a Courageous Conversation “facilitator.” 

The phrase "Courageous Conversations" refers not only to the title of the book, but also to the solution it prescribes: There is a growing cadre of educators in my district who, when they are asked what they are doing to bridge the achievement gap, will answer that they are initiating courageous conversations about race at their various school sites. 

Let me preface the remainder of this piece by saying that "Courageous Conversations" is an amazing, powerful book, one that frequently resonates with my own life experience as an Asian-American. But as I organize my thoughts in preparation for my upcoming training, I have a number of questions.  And these questions are what I am excited to share with the vibrant community of readers of the "Rough and Rede" blog. 

"Courageous Conversations" views White-ness from the narrow perspective of power and privilege. In a nutshell, the book advocates that true change around racial equity in education can not occur until a critical mass of White teachers accept 1) the daily experience of oppression that people of color feel and 2) the unearned privileges that they themselves benefit from, by virtue of being White. Depending on your own personal experience, you might admire the fact that a mostly White school district has adopted this book, or you might be horrified. (I reside in the camp of admiration.) 

Nevertheless, I am left with some significant questions that I plan on raising in a couple of weeks:
 
This might be an appropriate model of conversation among adults, but how does this inform, if at all, our classroom interactions with White students? If any of us as teachers were to accept the notion of White privilege (which, in fact, is difficult to deny), is there any point at which White students should begin to be made aware of it? (Consider that students of color often become aware of White privilege on their own, at a young age—I certainly did.) 

And the next series of questions reflect a vision I have that is different from mainstream attitudes around multi-culturalism and diversity in our schools. Namely, I feel that as educators, we must be more inclusive of White students within the context of celebrating cultural diversity. Why? Because providing White people the space and encouragement to explore and find pride in their heritage helps minorities in the long run by placing cultural celebrations of all types in a context that is neither "us versus them" or somehow "un-American." 

The other critical reason that White students need to view their identity in a cultural context is that eventually (when they are older) they need to understand that American society, though pluralistic, multi-racial, and multi-cultural, consists of institutions that are decidedly rooted in the heritage of Europe — the basis of White privilege, in other words. Such a knowledge places the nagging, persistent challenges facing people of color in a more contextual, non-judgmental light. 

With the above in mind, I pose the following additional questions: 

In our country, is there such a thing as a White (or European-American, if you prefer) culture, distinguishable from “American” culture, which we all share? Not all White families feel a sense of connectedness to their European roots because their generational roots in the United States run so deep. How can students from these families be included in celebrations of cultural diversity? 

It’s an honor to share some of my current reflections about race with the “Rough and Rede” community. Our society desperately needs more meaningful dialogue about race. And our discussions ought to be more honest, more frequent, and more open. Submitting this guest blog is my contribution.


Aki Mori is an educator in a Portland-area school district. I met Aki in 2009 after I published an op-ed piece he submitted to The Oregonian. In his author tagline, I noticed he had previously worked for the New Haven School District in California. That's where I went to grade school in Union City, roughly 40 miles from San Francisco. We met for coffee several weeks later and have kept up a nice correspondence since then.

Coming tomorrow: Field of American Dreams, by Patty Chang Anker

Thinking about education

As I sit down to write this post, the polls have been closed for about 30 minutes. Soon we'll know if voters said yes or no to the Portland Public Schools' request for: 1) $548 million of bonding authority to replace or upgrade a select number of schools that are badly in need of repair; and 2) a new five-year levy to help fund day-to-day operations and prevent teacher layoffs.

I have no doubt that the need is there, especially with the capital expenses. Many, if not most, of Portland's schools were built in the 1920s and 1930s and need serious attention. The question is can we afford that big a repair bill in this still-fragile economy? Many of us who've managed to hang onto our jobs during the recession have seen pay and benefits diminish a bit through salary cuts or increased insurance premiums or both.

As a parent whose kids attended Portland schools, I want to be able to give today's and tomorrow's students the same opportunity, if not better, at a quality education. As a taxpayer, I look at how much the bond measure and levy would add to our property taxes, as well as trends that show Portland's school-age enrollment dropping as more empty-nesters stay put and young families look to the suburbs for less expensive housing. It's a conundrum for me, a champion of public school education, and a frequent source of frustration that we as a state can't figure out a better way of funding our schools.

I suppose much of the situation is tied to the public's perception (fueled by certain politicians) that the U.S. school system is mediocre at best and scandalously inferior at worst. Plus, there's no question that as a society, we pay lip service to the idea that we really, truly value education, especially math and science. These points were brought home powerfully in a CNN special that we watched Sunday  night: "Don't Fail Me: Education in America."

Correspondent Soledad O'Brien follows three students at high schools in Phoenix (Ariz.), eastern Tennessee and an affluent New Jersey suburb as the and their peers strive to qualify for a national robotics competition. It's a given that we see vast differences in cultural and community expectations of the kids, huge disparities in the schools' physical plants and financial resources, and in how students view themselves and their prospects.

Interviews with teachers, principals, a former Tennessee and U.S. Education Secretary Arne Duncan all point to sagging achievement, education "reforms" that have resulted in puffed-up gains on standardized tests and, worst of all, an acknowledgment that we just don't encourage and celebrate smart kids in the same way we do student athletes. You can't help but root for the underdogs -- Maria from Phoenix and Bryan from Tennessee -- but you also can't lose sight of the larger issue. Namely, that 80 percent of American high school seniors aren't considered proficient in science knowledge.

With that sad statistic in mind, I try to wrap my mind around new survey results from the Pew Research Center comparing the general public with college presidents on the basic question, "Is college worth it?"

A majority of Americans (57%) say the higher education system in the United States fails to provide students with good value for the money they and their families spend. An even larger majority—75%—says college is too expensive for most Americans to afford. At the same time, however, an overwhelming majority of college graduates—86%—say that college has been a good investment for them personally.

 Meanwhile, Pew reports:

Six-in-ten college presidents say the system of higher education in this country is headed in the right direction, but a substantial minority—38%—say it is headed in the wrong direction. [And] a majority of college presidents (58%) say public high school students arrive at college less well prepared than their counterparts of a decade ago; just 6% say they are better prepared. Also, 52% of presidents say college students today study less than their predecessors did a decade ago; just 7% say they study more.

There's no doubt in mind that being able to attend an affordable state school, as a first-generation college student, opened opportunities that weren't there for so many of my cousins who came from similar backgrounds. Yet, as a parent and longtime recruiter on college campuses, I would join those who argue that college is not for everyone.

I think we do a disservice to students and families when the will or the ability simply are not there, and we'd do better to steer them into a vocational trade or apprenticeship. At the same time, I think state and federal governments, as well as nonprofits and college themselves, should work together to make a college education affordable for all.

But these are issues that surface at the back end of the K-12 continuum. I think the critical issue is one of making an investment in our children's educations in the early years -- including preschool -- when you have a better chance at compensating for differences in income, parental support and school-readiness. Who knows whether there's a kernel of truth in what I've just written? I've never taught anyone other than in a college classroom. If I were a veteran of a grade school or high school classroom, I might feel very differently.

And on that note, it's time to go find out if the Portland bond measure and operating levy passed.

P.S. on Wednesday morning: The bond measure failed. The operating levy passed.

Educating America's kids

Yesterday brought a triple blast of perspectives on one of the most important things in the world to me -- and, I wish could say, to our country. I'm talking about public education.

Why do tolerate such unevenly distributed resources, which lead to unequal opportunity? Why can't we apply what works to more cities and towns -- and speed up the pace of change? Most of all, why can't a solid majority of Americans even agree that these are worthwhile goals? When did we become so selfish and short-sighted in not doing more to help the less privileged among us succeed?

1. I started the morning looking at the Sunday Opinion section -- yes, my own editorial judgment and contacts staring back at me from the page. I selected a piece by Paul Kihn and Matt Miller, consultants for McKinsey & Company, "Let's choose teachers from the top of the class," in which they ask: "Why don't more of our smartest, most accomplished college graduates want to become teachers"

The authors point to Finland, Singapore and South Korea as three top-performing countries that recruit 100 percent of their teachers from the top one-third of their high school and college students -- in sharp contrast to the United States. It's a valid question and I asked six people around the state to read the piece and respond with a short comment. Among them: fellow blogger Aki Mori, a Beaverton school teacher who's often commented on these Rough and Rede posts.

2. We got some exciting news yesterday afternoon from our daughter, Simone, in Pittsburgh. She and three classmates at Carnegie Mellon placed second in a regional competition for graduate students sponsored by the state Department of Human Resources. Each interdisciplinary team is given a real-world problem related to delivery of human services and must analyze it and present it to judges within 48 hours. Aside from another award for their resumes, the four teammates shared a $1,500 cash prize.

Most important? Such recognition gives a boost to Simone's still-evolving desire to work in education policy, exerting an insider's influence in making the kinds of policy changes needed to improve public education in America. She's already had experience working with Latino teenagers in a leadership program and at-risk students in alternative high schools, helping them obtain a G.E.D. or diploma and steering them to community colleges and other options.

3. Simone's news was a perfect set-up for going to see the documentary "Waiting for 'Superman' " at a neighborhood theater. Directed by Davis Guggenheim, the same guy who directed Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth," it is a gripping narrative, following five children and their families as they seek to rise above the bureaucracy and low expectations that threaten to kill their dreams before they even hit middle school or high school.

They are five kids whose names and faces I won't soon forget: Anthony, a fifth-grader from Washington, D.C.; Francisco, a first-grader in the Bronx; Bianca, a kindergartner from Harlem,  Emily, an eighth-grader from Redwood City, Calif., (yes, mediocrity thrives even in affluent Silicon Valley schools) and, most of all, Daisy, a fifth-grader from Los Angeles.

In Daisy's brown eyes and brown face, I could see myself, diligently doing her homework at the kitchen table, dreaming of careers -- a physician or a veterinarian -- her parents could never imagine for themselves. I'm certain that my young peers and I in Union City, Calif., -- the sons and daughters of Mexican American blue-collar workers -- were dismissed as "not college material," But with the encouragement of parents who never attended high school, attentive teachers and my own initiative, I made it. And I want Daisy and Anthony and the millions of kids they represent to have the same chance to realize their potential.

It's heart-breaking to see these children and their parents -- often single parents advocating for their kids or trying to scrape together money for private school -- reduced to hoping their number is called during a lottery for a limited number of slots in public charter schools, where a combination of excellent teachers, longer school days and high expectations have translated to huge gains in classroom performance and success.

Some critics of public education have used this film as an opportunity to bash teacher unions. Granted, they're not portrayed particularly well in the documentary. But they are certainly not the one and only reason we have such disparities amongst our public schools. More important than pointing fingers is rallying around proven models that do work. With the inspiration from this film, I'm going to drop one of my nonprofit board commitments and sign up again as a reading tutor at a diverse, high-poverty school. I've done it before and I'd like to return to the S.M.A.R.T program with a renewed sense of urgency.

Props for deserving kids

Three weeks ago, I wrote about the arrival of our summer interns and mentioned how one of them was planning to interview Simone about her part in a revamped scholarship program aimed at honoring the successes of students at Portland's alternative high schools -- a group often overlooked in the hoopla associated with Ivy League-bound valedictorians who, for the most part, have come from pretty stable situations.

So today, upon our return from a week-long vacation, it was a delight to see the article written by intern Carolina Hidalgo that told a different story -- a need-based scholarship program that considers leadership skills and demonstrated potential in students who've overcome hardships most of their peers can only imagine.

It was nice to see Simone quoted in the story, as she works with some of the students who won the scholarships from the nonprofit E2 Foundation.

But the larger point, I'm sure Simone would agree, was describing the obstacles of someone like Egbevado Ananouko, (above, far left), an immigrant from the West African nation of Togo. He survived three years in a refugee camp in neighboring Belin, before coming to the United States at age 11, knowing no English and little of his new country and responding to teasing with violence.

This week, he graduated from Open Meadow High School, one of a dozen graduating seniors who won the modest scholarships.

Read the story here: "Alternative high school grads head to college with scholarship help and a chance at their dreams"

Photograph by Benjamin Brink, The Oregonian

Congratulations, Simone

Today was the Hispanic Metropolitan Chamber's annual scholarship banquet, held in a ballroom at the Oregon Convention Center. We were among the proud parents in attendance, seated on either side of Simone, as mariachis performed and an assortment of state and local politicians took turns making speeches in praise of the winners.

Simone won a $2,000 scholarship -- her third from this networking organization if my memory is accurate. (I'm pretty sure she won twice while an undergraduate at Vassar.)

It's always a time to feel proud and inspired -- not just of our daughter but of all the accomplishments and promise of fellow Latinos and Latinas, who in so many cases are the first in their family to attend college and often come from low-income households. This year, 49 students shared a total of $109,000 in scholarship money. All told, the chamber has given away just over $1 million in scholarships since 1996.

While the preponderance of scholarship winners will use the money to attend in-state colleges, I'm heartened by the number who are able to pursue their education and their dreams out of state at such schools as Stanford, Tufts, Bowdoin and, in Simone's case, Carnegie Mellon. It's a subtle sign of stepping out on your own, far from the safety and comfort of family.

While there's no denying that scholarship money definitely helps, I know from experience that the greater impact is psychological. It sends an important message to the recipient that someone else -- a panel of professionals -- believes you are worth the investment, and that your dreams do have a chance of coming true.

"As the Latino population increases in Oregon, education remains a key issue." the chamber notes. "Nationally and locally, Latinos have the highest dropout rate. In Oregon, 13% of Latino students leave high school compared to 6.3% for all Oregonians.

"Despite the high dropout rate, the number of Latinos attending college has shown increases, but the percentage of Latino students attending college is still less than the general population (20% for Hispanics vs. 37% for the general population). "

As I looked around the ballroom today -- at all those bright eyes and smiling faces -- I felt encouraged. If 75 percent of these students are able to complete their degree in their chosen field, what a boost it would mean for Oregon Latinos. We are so terribly underrepresented in law and engineering, nursing and medicine, academia and journalism. The chamber deserves a lot of praise for providing such a helping hand.

Avid about Vestal

"Avid" isn't a word that pops up much in everyday conversation. I've always thought of it as a synonym for "eager" or "enthusiastic." After yesterday's guest speaker experience, at Vestal School, a K-8 school in Northeast Portland, I'll never use the word again without thinking of the enthusiasm and attentiveness I saw in the faces of students I spoke to in a crowded, second-floor classroom.

A long-time friend, Elsa Guiney, a school counselor at Vestal, invited me to come talk to some 40 students who participate in the AVID program. The acronym stands for Advancement Via Individual Determination. As Elsa explained to me, it's a program that selects motivated students that do not have a history in their family of going to college. It starts in 7th grade and goes through high school helping students develop the skills and determination to attend college. All of the AVID students from nearby Madison High School last year were accepted to four-year colleges.

As someone who was the first in my family to attend college, and who (for better and worse) navigated that journey basically on my own, I was happy to accept. My parents, both from large families and needing to help out at home, didn't have the opportunity to go beyond the 8th grade. From the time I was in elementary school, I was keenly aware that while I could not go to either one for homework help the way my peers did, my mom and dad always encouraged me to do well in school and established an expectation that I would go to college.

Looking into the innocent faces of these tweens and answering their earnest questions, I felt good sharing my story -- how I got into journalism in high school, how I knew instantly and forever that is what I wanted to do, and how lucky I've been to do it professionally for 30-plus years. Likewise, I felt good that they seemed to really listen and absorb the advice I offered.

Build good habits now -- such as being on time and planning ahead -- and that will serve you well on your path to, during and after college, I told them. In addition, I urged them to be self-starters, to persevere and to be resourceful.

Lastly, have a sense of adventure. Dare to go beyond what's familiar and surprise yourself with what you'll learn about yourself and the world around you. Going away to college, especially out of state, will introduce you to new ideas, new people and places, new cultures and climates, new everything. Embrace the newness.

I left with a nice gift -- a candy-filled coffee mug with the school's likeness -- but more than that I left with a feeling that maybe I'd helped reinforce the value of a college education and given these mostly minority kids, kids just like me, some practical advice that would stick with them.

Photo: Portland Public Schools

Quick Takes for April

I've been running off at the mouth lately, so I'm going to try to exert some self-discipline and keep things short:

-- Here's a followup to an earlier post on the Tea Party supporters. John Nichols, Washington correspondent for The Nation magazine, says that while there was something genuine about the initial tea party organizing, the movement has not been well-served by its association with Washington insiders and folks like Sarah Palin: "Hangers-on weaken brew with passing time."

-- A commenter on the earlier Tea Party post lamented the attention that the movement has received, noting that "no subject will disappear from the front page until a new hot topic can replace it. Otherwise, the media powers that be keep stirring the same ol' same ol' pot. Since the West Virginia explosion and Tiger's return to golf and the passage of the health reform bill, the Haiti earthquake situation is yesterday's news." Well, here's a lovely essay on the people of Haiti, "Resilience beneath the rubble," written by a Portland nurse and edited by yours truly.

-- The most moving piece of journalism that appeared in The Oregonian this week was the real-as-it-gets story, above, about the homeless students who attend Portland's Community Transitional School and the big-hearted bus driver who makes the rounds each morning to motels and shelters to pick the kids up and take them to school. one of the few safe and stable places in their young lives. Reporter Tom Hallman Jr., a Pulitzer Prize winner for feature writing, and photographer Torsten Kjellstrand combine their talents to put you, the reader, aboard the yellow school bus with driver Penny Scrivner and her young passengers as they ride to one of the few safe and stable places in their lives. Our friend, Cheryl Bickle, is the longtime principal of Community Transitional School. She's not quoted in this story but that's entirely appropriate. Tom and Torsten have rightly focused on the kids and their bond with Penny.

Photograph by Torsten Kjellstrand, The Oregonian

Report cards for kindergartners?

No matter how long it's been since you were in school, I'd guess you might still carry the memory of your best or worst report card. (I still remember the C in Art and the D in General Music that I received as a fifth grader. Both pretty much confirmed I had no talent in either area but, still, it felt pretty harsh being judged in that way.)

But do you remember your first report card? Probably not.

In that vein, do you think 5-year-olds are too young to receive their first one?

You may be interested in an op-ed piece we published today in The Oregonian, written by Aki Mori, a follower of this blog and a regular commenter.

Aki is the parent of a kindergartner and a teacher in the Beaverton School District. He and I met a few months ago, prompted by the fact we had a Bay Area thing in common. Before moving to Oregon, he taught in the public schools in Union City, Calif. And, years ago, that's where I attended grade school (Decoto Elementary) before moving to Fremont.

In any case, Aki has impressed me as a very thoughtful guy and earnest writer -- just the kind of young educator we should all be thankful for. Read his essay here and share your two cents.

First day of school

Oregon students are headed back to school today and, no, I'm not going to write about the silly controversy that's sprung up around Barack Obama -- namely, his desire to speak a few words of encouragement to America's schoolchildren.

Today at this hour, I fully expected to be heading out the door to a suburban high school, where I would be part of a small group listening to a student give an oral presentation on her Senior Seminar Experience. The so-called SSE is a graduation requirement that entails a student working on a project with some guidance from a Community Consultant.

Several weeks ago, I took a phone call from a senior-to-be -- let's call her T.I. -- who said she was going to do her SSE during the summer and wanted to know if I would be her Community Consultant. I'd served in that role a couple years ago and found it a thoroughly enjoyable experience. The student, in that case, was motivated and well-organized and responded well to my constructive criticism. As part of her project on The Smile Train, a nonprofit that raises money for cleft palate operations around the world, we succeeded in publishing an op-ed piece she wrote about the program.

On that basis, I looked forward to working with T.I., who told me she had worked on her school's student newspaper and sought me out because of my journalism background.

Late Thursday, I finally had a look at a draft of her "editorial" on animal rights/animal welfare groups and was flabbergasted. What do you do with a piece of work that is so poorly done in every respect -- grammar, sentence structure, organization, lack of coherent thought, etc. -- that it can't be salvaged? For me, writing comes as naturally as breathing. I know that's not the case for everyone -- or even most people -- but still. With all summer to work on the piece, why would a student wait until the weekend before it's due to turn it in for a critique?

I battled with conflicting emotions, ranging from confusion to annoyance to sympathy. Mostly, though, I felt sadness for T.I., who evidently didn't realize she was WAY in over her head in thinking she could write an op-ed worthy of publication in The Oregonian. She is miles away from that. What's worse, if this is any indication of what T.I. has to show after weeks of research and interviews with primary sources, I shudder to think at how she will get through this school year.

I think of fellow bloggers -- most notably my former colleague Angie Chuang, now teaching journalism at American University, and Rachel Colina (aka Perfect Sand), who teaches English Composition to nursing students in Cincinnati -- who write so eloquently about the preparation and strategies that go into teaching writing to young adults and I wonder if, given enough lead time, if I could have worked with T.I. to pull off a decent piece. I suspect not.

I suspect it would have taken weeks, if not months, for her to acquire the basic vocabulary and absorb the fundamental concepts needed to write a persuasive piece. I hope I haven't lapsed into a blame-the-victim post here, but the experience with T.I. has taught me one valuable lesson -- don't assume too much of the other person. In a similar situation, I will ask the student's teacher(s) if he or she has the skill set to pull off whatever project or paper that's been proposed.

Clip art copyrighted by Bobbie Peachey, http://webclipart.about.com

"Seeing beyond the hijab"

Ramadan, the annual month of fasting observed in the Muslim world, got underway Saturday in North America, so I was pleased that we offered readers a timely essay by local writer Tom Krattenmaker titled "Seeing beyond the hijab."

Tom is a former journalist, with an interest in issues involving Christianity in public life, who is now an associate vice president at Lewis & Clark College here in Portland. He continues to write for USA Today, the Los Angeles Times and The Oregonian, among others, and has a book that's coming out in October on Christianity in professional sports.

Anyway, Tom wrote a thoughtful piece stemming from the Oregon Workplace Religious Freedom Act, a new law that ensures the rights of employees to practice their religion by wearing certain religious apparel at work and taking holy days off.

As he notes, however, the measure upholds an exception for school teachers that's been on the books since the 1920s. The exception was upheld by the Oregon Supreme Court in the 1980s in a ruling that sought to make a distinction between religious apparel that merely expresses one's faith and clothing that has a more overt proselytizing effect.

"Because of the way the ban has been interpreted and enforced, its practical effect has mainly been felt by Sikhs, who wear turbans, and Muslim women, many of whom wear the hijab, or headscarf," Tom reported. Meanwhile, Christian teachers wear less-conspicuous cross necklaces or lapel pins and Jewish teachers wear yarmulkes, with no evident repercussion.

Tom concedes that the hijab and turban stand out, but raises a larger question by asking where is the line that separates legitimate religious expression from the unconstitutional promotion of religion. During an online chat Monday morning that I orchestrated for OregonLive.com, a handful of readers and I joined Tom in exploring some of the issues raised by that question:

1. If one favors the separation of church and state, why should we allow any religious apparel (including jewelry) of any kind in our public classrooms?
2. If one allows the hijab, do we also permit T-shirts that depict Jesus or quote a Bible verse? Do we allow a T-shirt that promotes the Wiccan religion?
3. Which carries more weight? The intent of the wearer (who knows what, if any, meaning is attached to the wearing of an article of clothing) or how it is perceived (and possibly misconstrued) by another party?
4. If we hope to encourage tolerance for the increasing diversity in our society, shouldn't we allow the hijab in the classroom, on the theory that the more familiar we become with it (whether in schools, airports, grocery stories or doctor's offices), the less mysterious or threatening it becomes?

After mulling Tom's article and participating in the half-hour chat, I'm still conflicted. Generally, I don't favor injecting religion in any form in public settings, whether the classroom or the workplace. Yet I'm sympathetic to an individual's freedom of self-expression as well as to the rights of religious or ethnic minorities to assert their beliefs.

If you pressed me, though, I think I would generally be permissive. allowing people to wear whatever they like, as long as the attire is not profane, does not intimidate and does not cause an undue distraction.

Thoughts, anyone?

Quick Takes

It's become part of the routine for me to start or end a month of posts with a few Quick Takes. So, five days into the new month, here goes:

-- Vindication for Clackamas. In my last post, I perhaps went over the top in describing Clackamas County's often-sullied image. Today's front page story in The Oregonian spoke to the accomplishments of Clackamas High School, which became the largest high school in Oregon to reach every performance target during the seven years under the federal No Child Left Behind law. Read more in Betsy Hammond's story here.

-- Vindication for George. Readers of this blog know of my impatience with overly polite drivers in Portland -- the ones who insist on yielding the right of way, the ones who stop for pedestrians nowhere near a crosswalk or traffic light, even it means surprising the driver behind them. Krista, an occasional reader, wrote me yesterday to commiserate:

The issue is one of my biggest frustrations with living here! I'm known in my family for my reactions to this alarming trend. When other vehicles at an intersection "politely" motion for me to go ahead, even though they have the right of way, I stoically wait, often refusing to make eye contact, until they move. That said, I've also laid on the horn, New York style, when drivers waffle on an on-ramp, creating a dangerous situation for all. Some family members think I'm rude. My grandpa, who was raised in New York state, simply nods his approval at my actions.

I rest my case.

-- A bad week for listening to the GPS. From This Week magazine comes news of two Swedish tourists headed for the Italian resort of Capri. They misspelled the name in their GPS device and ended up in the industrial town of Carpi, 400 miles away, where they were very puzzled by the absence of a beach. “It’s hard to understand how they managed it,’’ said a Carpi official. “I mean, Capri is an island.’’

D'oh! Whatever happened to reading a map? Or am I the only one who still does that?

The Graduate

This weekend we'll be celebrating a long-awaited, much-anticipated milestone: Our oldest son, Nathan, will get his bachelor's degree from Portland State University. Actually, make that plural. He's graduating with degrees in business and marketing.

To say he's traveled a long and winding path to this point is an understatement. To say we admire his perseverance and celebrate his accomplishment, similarly, doesn't begin to convey our pride.

Nathan graduated from high school in 1998. That fall, we moved him into a fourth-floor dorm at the University of Oregon, with a good feeling that he'd come into his own in a place known for its liberal campus politics and comprehensive course offerings. I still remember pulling away from the curb that day, feeling wistful, as he waved goodbye. The emotions hit Lori and me like a ton of bricks as we headed back to the freeway for the two-hour drive back home.

Over the next three-plus years, it became evident the U of O and Eugene weren't the best fit. Too school was big, too impersonal, too unstructured. Nathan left school, moved around a bit, struggled to find to work and, finally, broke off a toxic relationship with his then-girlfriend.

To our delight, he came back to Portland to right himself. He enrolled at Portland State and proceeded to bear down in pursuit of the goal that had eluded him. The difference has been astounding -- nothing less than a transformation. His grades have steadily improved (including a 4.0 last term ), he's made a whole new set of friends and he's become a fixture in the city's nightclubs as a DJ with the moniker Nathan Detroit. Along the way, he's dropped a lot of weight, changed his diet for the better and reintegrated himself into our family.

On Saturday, he'll be among the thousands of graduates in cap and gown, striding across the stage at the Rose Garden Arena to accept his college degrees. We'll take him to brunch and celebrate. On Sunday, we''ll have a get-together here at our home for friends and family to again recognize his success.

Of course, we wish he were entering the job market under entirely different conditions. Still, at 29, he's now much better positioned to compete for a job now and in the future.

We thought long and hard about what name to give our first-born. Then and now, the name fits. In Hebrew, Nathan means "gift of God."

This weekend, we'll give him all the love, support and encouragement we can muster to get him started on his new path.

Pomp and circumstance and a drive to succeed

At this time of year, we're immersed in high school graduations and college commencements. No doubt, it's a great time to recognize the accomplishments of the class of 2009 as its members receive their diplomas and degrees and move to the next phase of their lives.

Next Saturday, we'll join our oldest son, Nathan, in celebrating his graduation from Portland State University with degrees in business and marketing. (More on him later this week.)

Within the larger community, there's much to admire, too, in the hard work and dedication of this year's Academic Achievers -- some 456 valedictorians and straight-A students from Portland-area schools -- who were recognized in The Oregonian.

Three personal stories stood out to me in recent days. I share them here as models of inspiration, desire and redemption:

Stephanie Lutz, overcoming homelessness and her mom's drug problems, to graduate as a star athlete and student from a working-class school on Portland's east side. "From chaos, with honors."

Berenise Delgado, above, rising above cultural and economic barriers to excel at one of Portland's poorest schools. "A valedictorian at Roosevelt pursues her dream of college."

Courtney Bliss, floundering at first but then finding herself at a small, alternative high school in Portland that few people even know about: "Finding an educational fit."

Seeing Courtney and her classmates graduate Thursday inspired me to write something as well on "Portland's Focus High School."

I've always been a strong believer in the opportunities that public education can bring. As these young ladies demonstrate, you've got to want it ... because no one is going to just hand it to you.

August and "Perfect Sand"

All this week, I've tried to practice what I preached during the class I taught at Portland State last winter -- namely, to spend some time surfing the Web, exploring the blogosphere and becoming part of the universe made up of tens of millions of blogs.

These past few days I've mentioned blogs by my co-worker Mike Francis, new media professor Pam Cytrynbaum and news reporter-turned-food writer Heather Lalley (all of whom, now that I think about it, are graduates of Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism).

Today, I recommend to you "Perfect Sand," written by August. (That's her screen name; in real life, she is Rachel, living in Cincinnati).

But, first, some more background. When I began the class, I cited a few statistics, which even now boggle the mind.

According to eMarketer (May 2008), there were:
-- 94.1 million blog readers in the U.S. in 2007 (representing 50% of Internet users)
-- 22.6 million bloggers in the U.S. in 2007 (representing 12% of Internet users)

According to Universal McCann (March 2008), there were:
-- 184 million people worldwide who had started a blog, including 26.4 million in the U.S.
-- 346 million people worldwide who read blogs, including 60.3 million in the U.S.

According to Technorati.com:
-- 77% of active Internet users read blogs.

Summing up, Discover Magazine in 2007 said:

"The blogosphere is the most explosive social network you'll never see. Recent studies suggest that nearly 60 million blogs exist online, and about 175,000 more crop up daily (that's about 2 every second). Even though the vast majority of blogs are either abandoned or isolated, many bloggers like to link to other Web sites."

Given the explosive growth in this experimental medium, and allowing for extremes in quality, is it any wonder you can purposefully search for a blog on a specific topic and find treasure as well as trash? Likewise, is it any surprise you can stumble across something that disgusts or delights you?

It was the latter method that led me, about a month ago, to a blog that instantly appealed to me. It had all the qualities that I touted to my class: Well organized, clearly written with a distinctive voice, and thought-provoking content. A closer look revealed the writer's intelligence and tendency toward introspection.

What stood out to me? References to writers and topics that I care about, such as stories, teaching, writing, language, education. One post, "In the news," referenced David Brooks, the New York Times columnist, writing about a successful charter school in Harlem. Another, "Dishonor descended," discussed the words we use in everyday speech to either muddle or convey real meaning, citing the terms "waterboarding" and "water torture" as one example.

"Language," August wrote, "has the power to connect, to reveal truths, but it also can disguise or obfuscate...the truth."

As an editor, I'm all about clarity and specificity.

Anyway, I think August is a terrific writer. We've become followers of each other's blogs and I invite you to check hers out. http://perfectsand.blogspot.com/

And I hope you, readers, will expand this conversation by offering links to other blogs or Web sites that you recommend.

Students grade the teacher

Early last week, I received an envelope I'd been waiting for: the course evaluations for the special topics media course -- Opinion and the Blogosphere -- that I taught during the winter term at PSU.

Although the communications department chair(woman) had emailed me earlier to say I'd gotten positive reviews, I looked forward to seeing the details. Nothing helps a person more than specifics, including constructive comments.

Some 29 students responded. The evaluations showed: "All students agreed that the course helped them learn to find and use information and that you responded constructively to questions. The vast majority agreed (98%) the course stimulated them to think, found the assignments clear, and help them evaluate ideas."

Though it's hard to say what pleased me most in the different areas where I was evaluated, I was especially gratified to see the students rated me highly in conveying enthusiasm for the subject and strongly agreed they would take another course from me.

I tried very hard to prepare well for the class and I know from experience what I would do differently to make the experience even better next time. I'll have to see if my colleagues, Rick Attig and Susan Nielsen, want to make guest speaker appearances again -- they certainly played a big part in helping to convey basic knowledge about blogs and the process of writing and editing opinion pieces.

I've been asked to teach the course again during the winter 2010 term, and there is a good chance I may get to teach a second course -- details to be determined.

A shoutout for teachers

When I signed on to teach a weekend class at Portland State, I figured I would learn something about myself in addition to the subject itself. True enough.

Now that I've gone from one end of the spectrum to the other, a brief recap is in order for "Opinion and the Blogosphere."

Preparation: Begin with the objectives (What do I want students to learn?); develop a curriculum (How will they learn it? Through what combination of readings, discussions, exercises, guest speakers, etc.); get a sense of the class beforehand (What year in school? Why are they taking this particular class?).

Execution: Come in with a plan, but adapt as circumstances arise (Fortunately, no A/V lapses, but there were times when a planned unit ran long or short); try to engage students in class discussion (This mostly took care of itself but ...is it better to let a student sit in silence, not participating, or call on him or her, for the sake of accountability?); remember to end each unit with a recap of what we learned.

Evaluation: Not until the wee hours of this morning did I fully appreciate what teachers go through. Grading the work is easy enough, given the criteria I set out. No, I'm talking about missed assignments that simply weren't turned in. Is it my responsibility to ask students for this or that? If I do, what obligation do I create for accepting late work? At what cost? (Half of the points normally earned?) I've given this one a lot of thought, but for me it comes down to this: These are college students, nearly all of them seniors. Seems to me they should be responsible by now for making sure all their work is turned in.

Speaking of evaluation, the students filled out some standardized forms on the final day of class. I have no idea what they said. I suppose I'll find out at some point during the spring quarter.

What did I learn about myself? Preparation is crucial (not that I didn't realize it before). Executing at a high level involves conveying passion for and knowledge of the subject. Evaluation means being clear about what you're asking students to do and being fair about judging their efforts as well as the work itself.

If I were grading myself? A solid "B" -- which suggests a competent first time out, with lots of room for improvement.

"I come from..."

After weeks of anticipation and equal doses of excitement and nervousness, I finally embarked on a two-credit class, "Opinion and the Blogosphere," that I'm teaching at Portland State University this weekend.

As a way of getting to know them and encouraging them to think about commonalities and differences, I asked my class to do a free-writing exercise called "I come from..." It's an exercise that Julie Sullivan, a much-admired reporter at The Oregonian, uses to break the ice when speaking to groups both large and small.

A half-dozen students read aloud what they wrote, each of them revealing a piece of themselves that I thought reflected great candor but also how they might view the world, given their varying life experiences. One student talked about being the youngest of four daughters; a couple of others, about living in a lot of cities and states and how they appreciate being in Portland. One wrote about the murky lines of ancestry in her family, another about being descended from apes. And still another wrote about having to adapt to his parents' divorce, his mother's death from cancer, living with relatives, surviving homelessness.

As generous as they were to share their writings, I thought it only fair to share mine:

I come from a working-class, Mexican American family, the middle child and only son of Catarino Rede and Theresa Flores.
I come from a household where work was highly valued and it was always expected of me that I would support myself and my family.
I come from a home where my parents, with 7th and 8th grade educations, couldn't help me with my homework, but they could encourage me to find and follow my path.
I come from Northeast Portland and a two-story home on a corner lot in a middle-class neighborhood, where my wife and I have raised three adult children, alternately marveling and shaking our heads at the things they've done and the choices they've made in life.
I come from the Catholic Church, but readily admit that I fell away from it when my parents divorced, leaving me wondering why a benevolent god would allow the two adults I loved most to split apart.
I come from the perspective of an introvert, someone who likes to observe and analyze more than to be the center of attention, someone for whom reading is as natural as breathing.