Category: Education (Page 1 of 12)

I am looking forward to finishing up the report The Power of Technology to Transform Adult Learning, released a few days ago by The Council for the Advancement of Adult Literacy (CAAL).  In it, the report’s main author, Mary McCain, makes a number of recommendations, including:

• the establishment of a national web portal for adult basic education
• support for the development of distance learning programs in adult basic education
• creating a sustained, serious, and well-funded research effort in the field

I can’t argue with these recommendations,  but I am skeptical that these very broad and comprehensive changes will come from the top down. I don’t see any demonstration of the type of political will needed to address the very large and very serious educational issues faced by both  K12 institutions and the field of  ABE.

Furthermore, the field of adult basic education is fairly balkanized and uncoordinated and is lacking the necessary leadership to help make these types of large changes happen. Until we build a unified professional field, adult basic education will be beholden to the whims of the political power brokers, most of whom don’t give a second thought to high school drop-outs or English-language learners. How long have we waited for those at the top to act?

Despite my cynicism, this report coincides with a number of positive developments  in the field of adult basic education: the slow but thrilling progress of the Adult Education and Economic Growth Act of 2009 through the House and Senate (sponsored by Virginia Senator Jim Webb and including lots of new funding for technology initiatives in ABE, among other things). And the upcoming Summit on the Future of Adult Education in the New Digital World at VCU (in which Senator Webb will provide some recorded remarks) that will hopefully create the necessary space for identifying and developing the needed leadership and vision for adult basic education in the future.

“You eatin’ Funyuns this early?”

Breakfast: Sparrow egg omelet and hot bread
Morning snack: Popeye gum
Lunch: Bag of meatjuice, lunchmeat potpie
Afternoon snack: Skim o’ buttermilk, cough drop, giblets
Dinner: Grub worm casserole, slime shake

Pope:
“…responsive.”
MSNBC
“…clings to life.”
NPR
“…condition worsens.”
Detroit Free Press
“…condition grave.”
FOX
“…remains very serious.”
CBS
“…near death.”
LAT
“…nears death.”
ABC
“…edges near death.”
WP
“…slides toward death.”
NYT
“…remains near death.”
USA Today
“…on the verge of death.”
Aljazeera

I need to make a list, a comprehensive list of All the Things I Need. Things run out before you know it. One day the pantry is near burstin’ with food, and the next it is a dusty wasteland containing only a few rusting cans of beets and a box of pistachio Jell-O.
So, the first thing on the list is bananas. Preferably super bananas that don’t ripen so quickly. Seems they are always either green or brown. If they are yellow at all, it is a brief burst of yellow, like a flashbulb going off. Then, it’s just brown spots, and blackness and gooey sap seeping from beneath the peel.

I need more beer, powerful beer, the kind of beer that will help make the world look a bit less like some kind of cruel frontier, full of betrayal and delusion. I’ll add honey to the list, too. To sweeten the hours and quicken the pulse. I’ll have honey on my breath all day.

I need a grocery store haircut. It’ll be a monk’s tonsure, with several product endorsements plastered on my pate. I need medicine for my rickets, and a new apron. I need clam sauce, genital numbing cream, and baby wipes, too.

***
I have been tossing around the idea of getting a private nurse. Not that I am sick. But, if I scrimped, stopped buying expensive coffees, canceled my subscriptions to Maxim, Mustache Aficionado and American Dildo, and sold my Curlique Collection on eBay, I could easily afford it. She could come in a few times a week, take my temperature, change my bedpan, and feed me some Malt o Meal. Who wouldn’t benefit from that? Besides, this Meals on Wheels thing isn’t working out.

It’s all Heart-of-Darknessy today, the clouds and drizzle ominously perched above our little house. It’s a sunny day everywhere else. Big fat menacing clouds with gruesome faces. I feel like I am plunging deeper into the untamed jungle. the jungle of Saturday. A rotten, viney Saturday, full of hooting noises and swarming insects. A decrepit Saturday with black teeth and wild eyes, leaning on a cane, beckoning me to come closer. It wants to tell me something. It wants to whisper a secret into my ear.

E. and I are off to my ‘rents this afternoon at 1. We haven’t seen them since getting engaged 3 weeks ago. I know my mother is constitutionally unable to lets us plan this thing ourselves, but she still is acting as if she is being laissez-faire about the whole W thing. It isn’t that I am not excited, but I fear that with her, the only topic of conversation between now and The Big Day is going to be about invitations, guest lists and caterers. She will pretend when we tell her we’ve decided on a lumberjack theme, with tree sawing and log rolling competitions, and a sit down pancake dinner, but I’ll see the panic and displeasure in her eyes.

I got myself all slicked down and liquored up for this miserable and unruly day. Skipped my morning prayers and rolled up my sleeves instead; set my jaw against whatever dirty outcomes head my way.

You can’t see a lick of doubt in me. I’ve hidden it in my rooster-walk and my flashy red shoes. I know I’ve got a golden soul that is going to shine no matter what.

I’m telling you, you can’t miss me, and when you do see me, you’ll know it too.

I must insist to whatever Universal force or deity out there that needs to hear it that Spring break forth immediately. I want to see daffodils. And fluffy clouds in clear blue skies. I want to see twerping birds on tree branches bursting forth in leafy buds. I want to feel too hot in a long-sleeved shirt. I want to see a bright, bold sun and feel a hint of dewy perspiration on my upper lip. No more cold drizzles. No more bitter winds.

It is decreed.

Besides, all of my sweaters are about to expire. My tired scarves have places to be.