You get to know things better when they go by slow

In December 2005, I was living in the Upper East Side of Manhattan and teaching in north Bronx.  For reference, "North Bronx" is basically just above the northern tip of Manhattan. My school was on 225th St, and I lived on 86th St. That's 139 blocks, for those who are counting, at about 20 blocks per mile. Most days my commute was about an hour: I'd take a cross-town bus, and then a northbound 1-train. That is, until the bus and subways went on strike.

 

Now the strike wasn't a surprise. The schools opened on a pre-planned "two-hour delay" and a friend and coworker who lived further south and had a car picked up me and several others and we made it to and from school the first two days. Then I realized that if I left at about 7am (the normal time I'd leave on a regular-commute-day) I could walk the 139 blocks and arrive by 10am--the late-start time. I got 3 friends to join me and we met at a Starbucks in Spanish Harlem to begin the trek. 

 

It was cold. Really cold. But we were prepared with layers and layers of clothing. We first made our way over to Broadway--since it runs a diagonal, it was going to be our shortest route. Then, block by block, we walked north. Stories were told, snowballs were thrown. We made fun of people headed downtown in cars, stuck in traffic. More stops at more coffeeshops along the way. Our layers of clothes came off one-by-one. Yes, walking is work!

 

Slowly I came to realize I was walking streets that I'd previously only heard of because they were subway stops: 138th St, 145th St., 168th St. It was at 168th Street that I knew I was really having a learning experience. It was a vibrant neighborhood with the gigantic Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital, lots of restaurants and retail shops. Then it morphed into Washington Heights. At 181st St, a glance to the west showed the expansive G-W Bridge. At 191st, Broadway became more residential. Then we walked the bridge that we'd been across so many times on the subway, entering the Bronx. And we made it to school with time to spare. The four of us were the talk of the school that day. "You walked from where?" "Why didn't Ms. Bell pick you up today?" Because it was a great trip, I said.

 

As it turns out, I later moved into the Washington Heights Neighborhood. The GW Bridge remains my favorite NYC icon. And, from there, I often walked to school on any given day. I'd loved to embrace walking as a means of transportation. I never would have found that amazing neighborhood by train--walking helped me discover the city I was living in. 

 

I went on to become something of an urban hiker. Meeting friends on a Sunday morning just to walk a neighborhood. It was a great way to learn about the city past and present. 

 

After four years of NYC, I moved back to Austin, to my house in the Highland Neighborhood. I bought a car and began driving places again.

 

In October 2013, Lulu and I started looking at locations for our incipient school. We knew we wanted something in this part of town, for several reasons: for one, there are not a lot of preschools in this area, it's relatively affordable, and it's conveniently located to the handful of families that were going to follow Lulu from her old school in Hyde Park. We had lots of considerations: extent of renovation necessary, long term viability, city zoning restrictions.

 

It was mostly by coincidence that the best option ended up being just four blocks from our house and in the summer of 2014 I began a new phase of my life: the walking commuter. Sure, as the school director, sometimes I have to go to meetings and banks and make other school errands by car, but more often than not my job takes me no further than 4 blocks from home.

 

I. Love. It.

 

I once counted 390 steps. I pass 13 oak trees on Northcrest Boulevard. I notice the weeds growing bigger in cracks in the road. I can tell you how there are four prickly pears are in my next-door neighbor's yard. (He cut out 5 last fall.) The folks on the corner  can't keep their dogs, rabbits and chickens from escaping and I notice when they are gone and pet them when they're there. I enjoy following the progress of houses getting renovated and I know which others are vacant. When the roads were ice in 2021 the walk took 20 minutes.

 

Pretty much every time I set out to school--or head back home--I expect to see familiar faces along the way. The nice guy half-way to school has a heart-breaking story that will make you change your mind about the utility of registered sex offender laws. An old man's caretakers can barely keep the bamboo in check. Most of the time when I visit with my across-the-street-neighbors, it's on my way back from school. And sometimes I don't see people. One house is surrounded by a privacy fence and a motorized gate. The duplex across from school has antisocial people living there. Sometimes they smile back.

 

And, hey, if I'm running late, I'm not subject to the traffic laws--I can run! The 5-minute walk can be a 2-minute jog if it has to be.

  

Whether it's the plants, the people, the buildings or the hawks above...there is so much to observe on my walk to school. And I wouldn't trade it for anything. After all, as one of my fave bands sings about The Ancient Egyptians:  "You get to know things better when they go by slow."

Whose Child is This?

I'm not one to offer up Star Wars spoilers, but this is seasonally timely so here you go.

[sing to the Christmas tune you know]

Whose child is this who, on Jakku

was found by droid, beeping

Whom Han did trust and Maz did see,

while Finn, so quickly, was fleeing?

This, this! is Orphan Rey,

Whom Force did find and message bring

Haste, haste! to Luke you go, 

Oh Rey, on you we're counting.

it IS a gift to be simple

'tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free." So went my favorite hymn back in my church-attending days. The old Shaker tune is still one of my favorite classical tunes.

A regular field trip for us suburban Louisville kids was to go to Shakertown. Our teachers would wax on about their different way of life, though the only connection to any curriculum would be that "this is how the early Kentucky settlers" probably lived. To us kids, it was just a gimmick, a fun day to not be stuck a desk, spelling words before playing the same old games at recess.
  

At the school I helped found, Highland Montessori School, simplicity is a guiding philosophy. This isn't as much about the children, for whom everything seems simple. It's guided at the adults. Our brains seem wired to complicate life. If a child wants to sleep until 9am, then by all means that is what is best, whether s/he is 4 or 14. Biology knows what is best, why do we mess with it?

Simplicity also guides the school's business practices as well. Profit-maximizing monopolistic pricing theory aside, there is no need to confuse both the parents and the bookkeepers with tiered pricing schemes. HMS establishes one price, and that family pays that tuition each month until their child has completed school. Both the school and the parents can more accurately budget months and years ahead.

  

Why do our leaders insist on complicating school curriculums by force-feeding children? Research shows over and over that children--and adults--learn best when they _want_ to learn something. This kids's TED-x talk on Hackschooling" totally gets it. Learning can be fun, and it doesn't have to be complicated.

When I was in college I learned that problems that presented themselves as complex often weren't really. Whether it was a essay for a course I didn't like or an econometrics problem set or a relationship issue, I taught myself to just put the question in the back of my mind and let it sit there. Nine times out of ten, the simple solution would appear while I was going for a jog or watching Lake Michigan or watching Cheers reruns.

For me, the simple life is well-portrayed, perhaps glorified, by the elves in the Lord of the Rings. (In fact, after the Fellowship of the Rings came out, I bought the domain "livelikeelves.com"--what should I do with it?) Their entire world is natural, from the clothing, enormous treehouse homes of wide-open living spaces and a pacifist yet realistic outlook on the world. I'm sure such thoughts entered many an Atlantans mind when stuck in traffic on Tuesday.

Settle down. Simplify. When confronted with a seemingly complex problem, think "What would the Shakers do?" and then go make something with your hands.

How do you like working in a pre-school?

The Question: So, how do you like working in a preschool?
  Recently, I left my 11-year career as a high school Social Studies teacher to help my wife start up her new preschool. The above question has been frequently asked. Perhaps I'm wrong, but it feels like this question is loaded, like "Isn't this a big step backwards?"
  Answer #1: I'm more of a part-time pre-school teacher.
  I'm the school Manager (for lack of a better title). I love the change of "job" largely because it lets me do a variety of tasks on a daily basis: fix things up, sit on my couch with my laptop or participate in the classroom. I'm simultaneously HR department, accountant, building supervisor and, the subject of the question, the #1 substitute teacher.
Answer #2: I wouldn't have done this had I not already realized that, at its core, teaching is the same at all ages. 

  Rule 1 in any classroom environment is that the kids must feel safe, physically and mentally. During all of the fun parts of teaching, we have to remember that the biggest part, the base of Maslow's famous pyramid refers to physical well-being. For high-schoolers and preschoolers alike, they have to get enough sleep, eat well and feel appreciated before other lessons begin having an impact.

  So many kids are so on the edge about this, and this is not just a poverty-related issue. Even well-to-do kids who seemingly have it all may be neglected by their parents: both parents work late, with an endless stream of cousins, baby-sitters and nannies spending more time with kids than mom and/or dad. Or, maybe mom and dad are home every night, but the kids are plopped in front of a TV or constantly play video games. (I recently saw a picture of a 2-year-old playing a war-simulation video game in the lap of a parent… ergh.) It's no surprise that school is often the warmest, safest, lovingest place for a child to be.
  Answer #3: Montessori practices are completely in line with what I wanted to do in my high school classroom.

  Very quickly after I met Lulu, I realized that what she was doing with preschoolers aligned perfectly what I was doing with high schoolers. Creating an open, safe classroom, teaching communication skills and letting students choose the way they work were all components of both of our classrooms. (I won't get into not being allowed to go further down that road. Not for today, at least.)
   A couple of weeks ago, a UT professor came to visit the school, interesting in enrolling his son a year from now. I asked him what he already knew about Montessori. After a pause, he replied "Project-based learning." The answer took me by surprise, but it is spot-on.
  In the larger picture, in which I truly believe that project-based learning is the future of education, a Montessori school ideally prepares young children for the choices, personal responsibility and interpersonal relations that will enable them to succeed working with others later in their educational and professional lives.
  So, the final answer: I love being a part of this Montessori classroom, and I want to make it as good as it possibly can be.

Oh So Comfortable

One of my favorite childhood memories was playing Risk with my Dad and Uncles--often on New Years Eve or other holidays. This is a game where there are long stalemates, until a player reaches a threshhold where the odds are in their favor, or maybe they're just bored, and they make a risky decision. Perhaps they go on the attack or fail to defend a position and they gain or lose a lot very quickly. Ultimately everyone is defeated except for one vanquisher.
 
This is life: you can sit back and watch momentum build up around you, or you can go out the door and get a piece of that pie yourself.
 
Risk-taking has so many contexts, and it has everything to do with the extent to which you trust in the world. If you don't trust your neighbors, you have no problem pissing them off. In NYC I watched youths take risks because they thought they had nothing better to live for: jaywalking in really dangerous places or buying guns and pulling stupid pranks  (here is Austin's version). In a country where you're likely to die of AIDS anyways, why not have unsafe sex? In a war-torn country where a 12-year-old might get recruited into an army if he stays in the village, it makes sense to sign up for Al-Quaeda, with promises of the glory of battle and eternal life with virgins. All of these are youths who feel that there's not much worth living for and therefore make decisions that do not benefit the larger community.
 
On the other hand, if you trust that things will work out, you sit back and let things take care of themselves. A politician in a safely-gerrymandered district or early in a six-year Senate term also has little to lose from outlandish political views or poor life choices.

Stick your neck out! ©Rick Weller 2011

Economists have always sought to quantify risk in the risk-vs-reward context. Investors frequently risk millions of dollars on a product that people will want--knowing that the odds of losing all of the money are significant. The hope of a large reward is worth the risk. In the end, if people demand the product, then inherently the world will be better off. These decisions are made in the same metric used by kids of the Bronx or Somalia.

Graham Green said that "it is impossible to go through life without trust: That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself." Is risk-taking a matter of not involving others? A go-it-alone attitude? If you Trust in God do you just sit back and not take risks?

I, for one, want to get out and make the world a better place, but this hammock is so damn comfy....

How free is a flag tied to a pole?

World Cup fans will hear a lot of Wavin' Flag in the next month. And rightly so: it's a great song with catchy lyrics, good rhythm and beautiful melody and harmonies. I fell in love with it as soon as I heard Knaan sing the first soaring lines at the ACL festival last fall.

Please, however, take to heart the song's original message when you hear it. The stanzas have been rewritten for the World Cup, but the song's meaning comes straight from Knaan's childhood on the streets of Mogadishu. It is not the beautiful, soaring notes that it seems at first glance. The sarcasm of the title-line "They'll call me freedom, just like a wavin' flag" struck me the second time I heard the refrain back in October. This is an anthem not of freedom, but of the dream of freedom. It is of pride of one's people, not love of country. When you do see the waving flags in South Africa, while we're watching Knaan, Didier Drogba and Samuel Eto'o, please remember the millions of children who dream to leave villages and ghettos but will never get the chance. They are "struggling, fighting to eat" and are victims of "so many wars, settling scores.... leaving us poor." Those who can only dream of flying away from their abject poverty.

Like billions of others, I will get caught up in the beauty of the game, but let's not forget the billions who will walk miles and miles just to get to a TV to watch it. When you see the waving flags, think of what they really represent.

Thank you, Facebook

It's become a ritual that whenever Facebook changes anything, people throw up their arms and quickly update their status that they'll stop using the site. I laugh at the inherent irony of such posts.

Lately, it's been a lot of anti-privacy stuff, and quite predictable impulsive responses result. This makes me laugh, too, because facebook wouldn't be able to share one, single thing about you if you didn't type it in. Now, if FB were a fee-based site, we could complain and ask for changes, but with FB, we are all getting waaaay more than we pay for. (On this topic, watch Danah Boyd talk about it back in March at SXSW, or better still, read her full text. It's a great speech.)

I'm on the record for being a big facebook lover. I love seeing what friends are up to--especially those of you I don't see regularly. I like that FB has effectively disposed of the FW: FW: FW: chain emails. It has largely become the "home page" for my blog reading. I turn to FB when I want a reference or when seeking travel advice. Odds are, you're reading this after linking through my facebook post. 

So, recently, facebook announced something called the Open Graph. I'm no computer programmer, but it seems that FB is opening up our posts for commercial purposes. I'm cool with this. I'm much more comfortable with FB doing this than Google. Mashable lists 5 ways that this will affect e-commerce. I'm cool with all five of those ways. Seems like FB wants to compete with Google and Amazon, and competition is always good for us normal people. And, if all this results in is more advertising aimed at me for the stuff that I want, so be it. I hate shopping. If FB can make shopping easier for me, then I'm all in.