Howdy y’all (see I learnt something this year)
Have been having a fine time living in Brooklyn and working at a charter school network in Newark. It has been in the words of our top middle school student “fierce”.
How so I hear you cry?
Well imagine its 7-30 am on your first day of work and you are welcomed by the beat of a drum calling students to order.
As you struggle to get your bearings the headmaster leads 180 kids in the following chant as ear splitting volume.
Who are you?
A star who shines brightly for others.
Why are you here?
To get an education
What will you have to do?
Work hard,
Work, work, work, hard
And what else?
Take care of each other
What will you need?
Self-discipline
Why?
To be the master of my own destiny
What else?
Respect for myself, my peers, teachers and all people
Where are you headed?
To college!!!
What will you do when you get there?
Succeed and then give back to others.
What are we?
A community.
All very striking as a spectacle – particularly for a career office bureaucrat like me. Until that is you see later that morning the stats of the community in which this school is working: 2 in 100 on average graduate a four-year college. At which point making eleven year olds chant this takes on considerably more significance.
It’s all part of a deliberate strategy of raising aspiration both among students and faculty. Each class is named after a institution of higher learning- even in the elementary school. Kindergarteners are called scholars and gather each Monday morning around a banner declaring “class of 2020”.
Aside from that two other distinctive features mark the school: strict discipline and data driven instruction. Students wear uniform, file to class in orderly lines, and make public apologies. The school tests every 6-8 weeks and uses very nuanced analysis of the results to shape lesson planning.
Driving all this is a set of leaders as dynamic and focused as any entrepreneurs that I have encountered. They see closing the attainment gap as the civil rights cause of their generation and they have given 10 years of their lives to addressing it.
While some may find their zeal and methods a bit unsettling the results are hard to disagree with. Northstar Academy is the best performing urban public school in the state. It has 100 per cent of its graduating high school class going to a 4 year college. All from an intake selected by lottery and (joy to Treasury ears) with less per pupil funding than regular public schools in Newark.
And yet.and yet…. Five weeks in a range of questions are bugging me. How scaleable is this? Would these leaders have had more impact if they had turned their talents to an existing public school? Does it make sense from a system wide perspective?
But I’m only half way through so I’m supposed to be confused at this point. Mmm… maybe I can find some enlightenment in a pint of Brooklyn lager.
For more info on uncommon schools check out
http://www.uncommonschools.org/usi/aboutUs/USIVideo.html
(includes five year old chanting the Rutgers football song)
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Don´t Be Afraid to Ask
I have come to realize that Nicas are very talkative and quite curious. I don't think I have ever been asked the following things by people only two weeks after I'd first met them. Thus, I have decided to keep a list of "blunt" questions to see how many I have by the end of the summer. My favorites so far:
1. Are you agnostic?
2. Have you ever forgiven somebody cheating on you?
3. How many boyfriends have you had?
4. Are you a socialist? (this coming from someone twice my age after finding out that I´m from Bulgaria)
5. Are you a jealous person? (here, jealousy appears to be a personal trait not a temporary state)
Mind you, I got asked most of these questions when I wasn´t even directly involved in a conversation on the topic.
-denitza
1. Are you agnostic?
2. Have you ever forgiven somebody cheating on you?
3. How many boyfriends have you had?
4. Are you a socialist? (this coming from someone twice my age after finding out that I´m from Bulgaria)
5. Are you a jealous person? (here, jealousy appears to be a personal trait not a temporary state)
Mind you, I got asked most of these questions when I wasn´t even directly involved in a conversation on the topic.
-denitza
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
the news from Belfast: cold, rain, and the gift of a Mighty Bush
Greetings, friends.
I would also like to join Will's Luddite support group. This summer has introduced me to new technology-assisted activities - such as blogging, Facebook, and shaving - with which I am not entirely comfortable.
Nonetheless, it is wonderful to read your interesting posts about the Great Woo Summer and to learn many valuable lessons, most notably: 1) I'd rather work anywhere in Kansas City than at the U.N. and 2) not to travel on the policy workshop with Tom, the apparent love child of Zeus and Poseidon.
Life is good in Belfast, despite all the pasty white people, a lack of Ingrid, and my abject poverty on the pound sterling. I now weigh 113 pounds. Excuse me, 51 kilograms. When I have the energy, I work.
The daily tasks of diplomacy are presumably quite different in Northern Ireland than they are in the more exotic locales of most other State Department Woo interns. This is, after all, a wee, wet semi-autonomous land whose importance to the U.S. derives more from its tragic history, fragile peace, and ancestral ties than any strategic maneuvering that can be done within the confines of its small population or territory. Hence, the political work of the Consulate largely inheres in navigating the complicated dynamics of Stormont and trying to ensure - behind the scenes - that the antagonistic forces within and between unionism and nationalism are mollified. Encouraging foreign direct investment into Northern Ireland is also important, because prosperity and jobs are seen as the greatest bulwarks against future violence.
Until this week, however, my time in Belfast was not routine. Upon my arrival, I was informed that President Bush would be coming to Northern Ireland, ostensibly to extol a peace process that was solidified with the formation of a devolved power-sharing government just over one year ago. I was thus presented with a rare opportunity to see how a presidential visit works, from the art of avoiding protestors to the joy of interacting with White House staff - 95% of whom had endearing Southern accents.
As a taxpayer (barely), it was instructive to witness the incredible time and resources that are invested to ensure a safe and flawless trip. Weeks before the June 16th visit, dozens of advance staff from Embassy London, the White House, and the Secret Service had already arrived. Two prominent hotels provided temporary housing and an entire floor of one was altered beyond recognition to become a secure area, guarded by Marines. Countdown meetings were staged every night to scrutinize the details of arrival and departure, staging of the motorcade, and the movements of principals and press at each site visit. By last Monday, hundreds of support staff were in Belfast - all for a three hour tour that registered minimal press coverage outside of the United Kingdom and Ireland.
Of course, the meeting between the President, UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown, Irish Taoiseach (which basically means Prime Minister in the Irish language) Brian Cowen, and the new leaders of the Northern Ireland government was the most substantive component of the visit. It was also the most sensitive, because nationalists and unionists do not agree on who should have sovereignty over Northern Ireland or a voice in its affairs, and therefore who should be entitled to a seat at the table.
The President and First Lady also toured a local integrated school, an exception here as over 90% of schools are still, for all intents and purposes, divided along religious lines. There the President participated in drills for PeacePlayers International, which organizes non-sectarian basketball teams in recovering societies. Much to the delight of the local media, he missed four shots. The President also bought a plant grown by the schoolchildren, which they had dubbed "the Mighty Bush."
Bush hoops it up
I had the privilege to work at the Royal Air Force base where the President would arrive and depart. It was a surreal experience to be at Air Force One - a blery big plane, by the way - as the President left Europe for the last time in office. The best moment, however, occurred upon his arrival. Gordon Brown, an awkward politician who makes even W. seem relatively popular, greeted the President - and was instantly dismayed and confused by Bush's "hip-hop handshake."
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/2143451/Gordon-Brown-thrown-by-George-Bush
Presidential visits aside, the most rewarding aspects of being in Northern Ireland supersede work and derive from having an opportunity to uncover the troubled dynamics of a place I have always wanted to understand. Unfortunately, while the impressive political and economic achievements of the past ten years appear durable, this remains a very divided society where physical walls and mental barriers will continue to demarcate communities.
I would also like to join Will's Luddite support group. This summer has introduced me to new technology-assisted activities - such as blogging, Facebook, and shaving - with which I am not entirely comfortable.
Nonetheless, it is wonderful to read your interesting posts about the Great Woo Summer and to learn many valuable lessons, most notably: 1) I'd rather work anywhere in Kansas City than at the U.N. and 2) not to travel on the policy workshop with Tom, the apparent love child of Zeus and Poseidon.
Life is good in Belfast, despite all the pasty white people, a lack of Ingrid, and my abject poverty on the pound sterling. I now weigh 113 pounds. Excuse me, 51 kilograms. When I have the energy, I work.
The daily tasks of diplomacy are presumably quite different in Northern Ireland than they are in the more exotic locales of most other State Department Woo interns. This is, after all, a wee, wet semi-autonomous land whose importance to the U.S. derives more from its tragic history, fragile peace, and ancestral ties than any strategic maneuvering that can be done within the confines of its small population or territory. Hence, the political work of the Consulate largely inheres in navigating the complicated dynamics of Stormont and trying to ensure - behind the scenes - that the antagonistic forces within and between unionism and nationalism are mollified. Encouraging foreign direct investment into Northern Ireland is also important, because prosperity and jobs are seen as the greatest bulwarks against future violence.
Until this week, however, my time in Belfast was not routine. Upon my arrival, I was informed that President Bush would be coming to Northern Ireland, ostensibly to extol a peace process that was solidified with the formation of a devolved power-sharing government just over one year ago. I was thus presented with a rare opportunity to see how a presidential visit works, from the art of avoiding protestors to the joy of interacting with White House staff - 95% of whom had endearing Southern accents.
As a taxpayer (barely), it was instructive to witness the incredible time and resources that are invested to ensure a safe and flawless trip. Weeks before the June 16th visit, dozens of advance staff from Embassy London, the White House, and the Secret Service had already arrived. Two prominent hotels provided temporary housing and an entire floor of one was altered beyond recognition to become a secure area, guarded by Marines. Countdown meetings were staged every night to scrutinize the details of arrival and departure, staging of the motorcade, and the movements of principals and press at each site visit. By last Monday, hundreds of support staff were in Belfast - all for a three hour tour that registered minimal press coverage outside of the United Kingdom and Ireland.
Of course, the meeting between the President, UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown, Irish Taoiseach (which basically means Prime Minister in the Irish language) Brian Cowen, and the new leaders of the Northern Ireland government was the most substantive component of the visit. It was also the most sensitive, because nationalists and unionists do not agree on who should have sovereignty over Northern Ireland or a voice in its affairs, and therefore who should be entitled to a seat at the table.
The President and First Lady also toured a local integrated school, an exception here as over 90% of schools are still, for all intents and purposes, divided along religious lines. There the President participated in drills for PeacePlayers International, which organizes non-sectarian basketball teams in recovering societies. Much to the delight of the local media, he missed four shots. The President also bought a plant grown by the schoolchildren, which they had dubbed "the Mighty Bush."
Bush hoops it up
I had the privilege to work at the Royal Air Force base where the President would arrive and depart. It was a surreal experience to be at Air Force One - a blery big plane, by the way - as the President left Europe for the last time in office. The best moment, however, occurred upon his arrival. Gordon Brown, an awkward politician who makes even W. seem relatively popular, greeted the President - and was instantly dismayed and confused by Bush's "hip-hop handshake."
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/2143451/Gordon-Brown-thrown-by-George-Bush
Presidential visits aside, the most rewarding aspects of being in Northern Ireland supersede work and derive from having an opportunity to uncover the troubled dynamics of a place I have always wanted to understand. Unfortunately, while the impressive political and economic achievements of the past ten years appear durable, this remains a very divided society where physical walls and mental barriers will continue to demarcate communities.
Murder Mystery - for all the deep thinkers amongst us
Hey. Hope all is well. I thought you would appreciate this article on rising crime in American cities. It refers to post housing-projects programs and housing vouchers, precisely the sort of thing we did for 501. Interesting side effect: rising crime in American suburbia as a result of relocation of gang members with housing vouchers. Perhaps a small price to pay for an overall good program?
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/memphis-crime
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/memphis-crime
Monday, June 23, 2008
Little pig, little pig, let me in
So while building houses out of straw bales would seem a little more apropos to those Woos in far-flung parts of the world, Clare and I tried it out this past Saturday, just a stone's throw from the Capitol. The Environmental and Energy Study Institute (www.eesi.org) organized a Congressional Hearing led by leaders in the sustainable building field, followed the next day by a hands-on workshop. For those of you not familiar with the process, and concerned with how you're going to get a house without an ARM, it goes a little something like this:
1. Measure out the bale length you need and if necessary, divide the bale up into two separate bales using a large bale needles and twine, as modeled by Clare:
2. Shave down the ends of the bale to right angles using what looks like an oversized cheese grater (or powered grinder...which they wouldn't let me use...good call) so that the bales fit well together
3. Stack the bales together in a frame, and compress them together using the frame or compression strapping.
4. Cover the interior and exterior faces in slip (watered down clay) to hold straw together and allow to dry. Slip allows comes in handy as a sunscreen, as I model below.
5. Apply plaster (clay, sand, water, chopped straw) and smooth with trowel. Special instructions for those under the age of 8: a. Throw clay at wall b. Become bored with trowel and c. Throw clay at strange man with beard.
6. Allow to dry and await failed US foreign policy (concocted in 501 memo) to bring poverty and strife to your home. Rinse and repeat.
Unfortunately, since only Clare and I were the workhorses on this one (others stepped in from time to time), we didn't get as far as the folks had hoped. I'm pretty sure a Big Bad Wolf could take this one down pretty quick, regardless of the hair on my chinny chin chin:
Lessons from Nicaragua
As I head towards the end of my second week in Nicaragua, I try to summarize what I have learned about the locals and their culture so far:
1. It´s OK to be a single mom with two or more kids at 23 but it´s not OK not to be (or not to have been) married at 29. People react with surprise at the latter but find the former a pretty regular thing.
2. Nicas´ favorite piece of clothing is jeans. Even in the hottest of days, you will see most people (including women) wearing jeans. And shorts are unheard of, except of course among “cheles” (the term used by Nicas to refer to whites).
3. Nicas are in love with American culture – from baseball to hip hop to English names. I never expected to meet so many Judiths, Williams, Jennys, Marjories, Leonards, and Lisettes here.
4. Unless you are craving male attention, it´s better to tell Nica men that you are married. It´s usually one of the first things they ask after inquiring about age. Boyfriends, fiances, etc. are not an adequate reason for stopping their advances. I have gotten this advice from several women already, so I think I may actually take heed.
5. People here love to dance. And, I mean, really love to dance (usually to reggaetón, salsa, merengue, bachata). Last Friday, the office was celebrating it´s second anniversary. Along with lots of food and drink (starting at 2 pm), the festivities included a talent show and lots of dancing. Nothing could stop my 49-yr old supervisor and the rest of the management from taking over the dance floor.
6. Flor de Caña (the pride of Nicaragua) is the best rum I have ever tasted.
And aside from that, I thought you might find the following article interesting. Some of you may have heard or read about the LifeStraw – a simple, easy-to-use device for purifying water. Here is the story of its inception. A very smart idea.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121372818319181665.html?mod=loomia&loomia_si=t0:a31:g2:r4:c0.192655
-denitza
1. It´s OK to be a single mom with two or more kids at 23 but it´s not OK not to be (or not to have been) married at 29. People react with surprise at the latter but find the former a pretty regular thing.
2. Nicas´ favorite piece of clothing is jeans. Even in the hottest of days, you will see most people (including women) wearing jeans. And shorts are unheard of, except of course among “cheles” (the term used by Nicas to refer to whites).
3. Nicas are in love with American culture – from baseball to hip hop to English names. I never expected to meet so many Judiths, Williams, Jennys, Marjories, Leonards, and Lisettes here.
4. Unless you are craving male attention, it´s better to tell Nica men that you are married. It´s usually one of the first things they ask after inquiring about age. Boyfriends, fiances, etc. are not an adequate reason for stopping their advances. I have gotten this advice from several women already, so I think I may actually take heed.
5. People here love to dance. And, I mean, really love to dance (usually to reggaetón, salsa, merengue, bachata). Last Friday, the office was celebrating it´s second anniversary. Along with lots of food and drink (starting at 2 pm), the festivities included a talent show and lots of dancing. Nothing could stop my 49-yr old supervisor and the rest of the management from taking over the dance floor.
6. Flor de Caña (the pride of Nicaragua) is the best rum I have ever tasted.
And aside from that, I thought you might find the following article interesting. Some of you may have heard or read about the LifeStraw – a simple, easy-to-use device for purifying water. Here is the story of its inception. A very smart idea.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121372818319181665.html?mod=loomia&loomia_si=t0:a31:g2:r4:c0.192655
-denitza
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Rock You Like a Hurricane
Sometimes when the Pickerings get together, we play a little game called “What would you be doing if you didn't get the Pickering?” The answers vary quite a bit. I’ve answered everything from investment banking to selling jewelry, from graduate school to writing greeting cards for Hallmark.
The next time I’m asked that question, I’ll know exactly what to say: If it wasn’t for the Pickering, I’d be a weatherman. The forecast? Severe weather everywhere I go.
Yesterday, Typhoon Fengshen hit the eastern islands of the Philippines. It turned north and swept toward Taiwan this morning. My aparment lost power sometime in the night. I woke up at 7:00 AM to torrential rain, a charcoal-gray sky, and winds thrashing the huge trees outside my window.
The power and wireless internet are back, and it appears that the worst of the storm is over. I ventured out to the grocery store this morning and made it back with mangos. The roads are pretty flooded and littered with tree branches. On one major road, a fence in the median had blown into traffic. Still, Manila missed the worst of it.
All these tornados, 500 year floods, and hurricanes in the past month have made me think more about the future and the need to be prepared for it. Therefore I, Tom Niblock, in sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath, upon my expiration, the following possessions:
To Liam, one Adidas Army Sports backpack (sorry Judy).
To Asher, one plastic chicken that lays gumballs.
To Benny, one old TV that might work and one fridge that probably worked before I moved it out of Lisa and Sarah’s room.
To Jonathon Kent, all my Iowa Hawkeye t-shirts and sweatshirts.
To Clare, Darren, Ed, and Scott, my copy of China: The Fragile Superpower.
And to Jack, this music video.
It's early morning/The sun comes out/Last night was shaking/And pretty loud
My cat is purring/And scratches my skin/So what is wrong/With another sin…
-Rock You Like a Hurricane, The Scorpions, 1984
The next time I’m asked that question, I’ll know exactly what to say: If it wasn’t for the Pickering, I’d be a weatherman. The forecast? Severe weather everywhere I go.
Yesterday, Typhoon Fengshen hit the eastern islands of the Philippines. It turned north and swept toward Taiwan this morning. My aparment lost power sometime in the night. I woke up at 7:00 AM to torrential rain, a charcoal-gray sky, and winds thrashing the huge trees outside my window.
The power and wireless internet are back, and it appears that the worst of the storm is over. I ventured out to the grocery store this morning and made it back with mangos. The roads are pretty flooded and littered with tree branches. On one major road, a fence in the median had blown into traffic. Still, Manila missed the worst of it.
All these tornados, 500 year floods, and hurricanes in the past month have made me think more about the future and the need to be prepared for it. Therefore I, Tom Niblock, in sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath, upon my expiration, the following possessions:
To Liam, one Adidas Army Sports backpack (sorry Judy).
To Asher, one plastic chicken that lays gumballs.
To Benny, one old TV that might work and one fridge that probably worked before I moved it out of Lisa and Sarah’s room.
To Jonathon Kent, all my Iowa Hawkeye t-shirts and sweatshirts.
To Clare, Darren, Ed, and Scott, my copy of China: The Fragile Superpower.
And to Jack, this music video.
It's early morning/The sun comes out/Last night was shaking/And pretty loud
My cat is purring/And scratches my skin/So what is wrong/With another sin…
-Rock You Like a Hurricane, The Scorpions, 1984
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