Why children are left behind…

  • “Mrs. Gonzales, you must understand that these tests are mandatory in New York City.”

“La señora Riordan, hemos estado en este país un corto período de tiempo, queremos que nuestro hijo a aprender y hablar Inglés, pero que necesitan ayuda extra!

(“Mrs. Riordan, have been in this country a short time, we want our child to learn and speak English but he needs extra help!”)

  • “Well, the city of New York has strict guidelines in that testing is administered in English.  It’s really up to you in reinforcing what is taught here at school.  Due to budget restrictions, there is only limited extra help available to our students.”

¿Cómo se puede esperar que mi hijo o cualquier niño que no puede hablar Inglés correctamente, para pasar las pruebas cuando no se les ha dado la instrucción suficiente? ¿No acaba de hacerlos fallar antes de que tengan la oportunidad de pasar? ¿Por qué no estas pruebas se dan en español o cualquier idioma que un nuevo estudiante a la escuela habla?

(“How can I expect my child or any child who can not speak English properly, to pass the tests when they have not been given sufficient training? Do not just make them fail before they have the opportunity to learn. Why aren’t these tests are given in Spanish or any language that a new student to the school speaks?”)

  • “Well, honestly, Mrs. Gonzalez, it’s not like we want children to fail, it’s just that we have to follow the rules from the New York City Department of Education.  Rules are rules, you know!”

“La señora Riordan, todo lo que puedo decir es que cuando llegamos a este país, hemos querido sólo para nuestra familia para crecer, como los estadounidenses. Valoramos la educación que reciben, pero parece que estas pruebas pueden detectar sólo a los niños persiguen a los que no han sido capaces de aprender Inglés lo suficientemente rápido “

(“Mrs. Riordan, all I can say is that when we came to this country, we wanted only for our family to grow as Americans. We value the education they receive, but it seems that these tests can persecute the children  who have not been able to learn English fast enough “)

———————————————————————————-

For anyone reading this post, it’s not based on fiction.  Upon learning about the policy of the New York City Department of Education with regard to administering standardized tests to 3rd grade students who cannot speak English…in English, I ran to join in signing a petition against this practice.

In no way am I faulting those who teach.  These educators have their abilities paralyzed by the mandates of the NYCDOE.  The worst part of this situation are the schools who endeavor to provide a decent education but face possible closure due to student failure in various standardized tests.  This policy, aside from being completely unrealistic,  is nothing short of criminal.  In fact, this policy is focused more on the financial aspect, first and foremost, rather than the desperate need for children to learn. How can any child perform on such tests when a school cannot properly teach them or at least provide an alternate means of language availability in these examinations?

I wrote this from the perspective of a mother who desperately tries to plead on her child’s behalf for help and fairness, a mother who looks to assimilate into her new homeland and have her child become a productive part of life here in America.

Anyone interested in reading and signing this petition, the link follows….

Testing newly-arrived immigrants in English in NYC public schools is a crime against humanity.

Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #40: Role Play

One way to broaden your horizons is to see the world from someone else’s perspective. It not only reveals your understanding about that person, it highlights how they’re different from you and can help you see yourself and the world around you in a new light.

Your prompt this week is to role-play an entire blog post. Choose another person – someone you know or a fictional character – and blog as that person. Speak as they would speak, write about what they would write about.

The person doesn’t necessarily have to speak English or know what a blog is or live in a world with electricity, just try to say whatever that person would say. If the person lives in a different world or time period, you can decide whether to leave them there or bring them into ours.

Signature

The difference between…

“There’s a difference between interest and commitment. When you’re interested in doing something, you do it only when circumstance permit. When you’re committed to something, you accept no excuses, only results.”


I came across this quote while searching for some inspiration to respond to a writing prompt.  It sums up what makes me, me…perfectly.

  • Hard-driven when in the pursuit of accomplishing some task or issue.
  • Relentless when it comes to righting a wrong and standing up for myself.
  • Combative when dealing with  hurtful, vindictive, lesser beings.

Kind of a double-edged sword when I think about it.  Some of my actions (or re-actions) are interest-based yet, I can be totally committed at the same time.  If I could just channel these qualities (shortcomings?) into my writing and develop some consistency in what/when I publish, it would be so fulfilling.

Responding to this writing prompt gave me cause for some very deep thinking, not just in coming up with a suitable post but also in working up more structure and continuity in blogging.  At times, I’m completely in awe jealous of those who pump-out daily posts, some even more than that.

Hey, I have a brain that works overtime and I want to prove that fact!

So, in some roundabout way, this is taking me to square one, marked “Commitment”.  I need to focus less on being just interested in writing along with making excuses for not exercising my capabilities.

Stay tuned for the results.  Please.

Flicker of Inspiration Linkup #39: Commitment Device

This week we’re asking you about commitment. In 800 words or less, tell us about commitment; for you, for someone you know, or for a fictional person or character. Tell us what their commitment means, maybe tell us what they’re doing that reinforces the commitment.

Sometimes you can do it on your own, sometimes you need help. Sometimes you need someone to chain you to a radiator. Everyone does it their own way, but it’s always hard. If it was easy, it wouldn’t require a commitment.


 

 

Signature

He walked…

Yesterday, January 21st, it finally snowed here in New York, the first measurable precipitation since a freak October blizzard crippled the area last year.  Not a storm of epic proportions in the Northeast but a reminder that winter still lurks, waiting to spread its icy warmth on the landscape.

My truck slowly warmed up in the driveway as I put myself together for the drive into work.  In my tote bag, a black woolen hat, favorite scarf, gloves with a gaping hole in one finger and travel mug filled with steaming hot coffee…I headed out the door, ready for anything.

Arming myself with four-wheel traction, I hit the road, noticing how peacefully quiet the trip was; no other cars were slipping and sliding along.  It was Saturday and it seemed like everyone was hunkered-down at home, enjoying the snowfall, sheltered from the 18-degree temperature that made your fingers go numb instantly.

Almost everyone.

Out of nowhere, as I slowly drove down a hill, a small elderly man was walking along struggling to step in and out of snow piles left by plows.  He had no gloves or even a hat to shield him from the brutal cold, just a red-checkered jacket and thin pants tucked into boots that seemed much too large for his feet.  I slowed down as I passed him and quickly pulled to the side to stop.  He approached my truck and I asked if he was okay, offering him a ride and a chance to get warm.

At first, he seemed confused, even disoriented but accepted my offer without further hesitation.  Once inside,  I thought about driving him to our local police station but first gave him the hat, gloves and scarf that I brought along with me; he was shivering badly.  My tattered gloves fit him perfectly and as he gingerly put them on, he seemed to warm up quickly.  I questioned him about where he lived, hoping that I could drive him back home. He refused, asking instead if I would take him to a local church, saying that he walked there daily to light a candle for his late wife.

The conversation turned to how much he missed her and his feelings of being a burden to his only daughter with whom he lived.  Somehow, I sensed that his walks every day were an escape as well as a chance to be closer to the wife he still grieved over.

Pulling into the church parking lot, I offered to wait and drive him home but he again refused, telling me that his daughter picked him up each day by eleven o’clock.  I wrote out my name and cell phone number on a slip of paper and gave it to him, along with some loose change, as he got out of my truck.  He started to take off the hat and gloves but I stopped him and insisted that he keep them.  Smiling, he thanked me and gave me a “God Bless” as he closed the door and went towards the church.

For the rest of the day, I could not get the old man off my mind and my co-workers kept insisting that I should have contacted the police.  Consumed with guilt by the time work ended, I climbed back into my truck only to see that the paper I had given the man was lying there, on the seat.  I was positive that I saw him tuck it into his pocket when I dropped him at church.

Shrugging it off, I stopped at a store before heading home and as I parked, I noticed a woman walking out with a hat and scarf similar to what I had given the old man earlier that day.  As I got closer to her, I watched as she pulled gloves out of her pocket, one with a hole in it.  It got the best of me and I made it a point to walk by her and make a comment about the cold weather and about how she was smart enough to be bundled up as I crammed my cold hands into my pockets. She smiled back and told me the gloves had belonged to her father who died several years earlier.  I told her how sorry I was and shared that I had a hat and gloves exactly like what she was wearing but didn’t elaborate further.

The woman proceeded to tell me that her father had left home, after an argument.  Even though it was snowing, he insisted on going  on his daily walk and stormed out of the house wearing just a red checkered jacket, lightweight pants and boots.  His head and hands were bare.  She tried going after him but her car wouldn’t start and phone lines were down; she had to walk to a neighbor who drove her to the police station.

The old man’s lifeless body was found, hours later, just outside the doors of a church.  Clutched in his frozen hands were a black hat, scarf and gloves and a few coins that he planned on using to light a candle in his wife’s memory.

Standing there, with a shocked expression on my face, I asked the woman when her father died.

She replied…”January 21, 1997,  fifteen years ago today.”

Flicker of Inspiration Linkup #34: S-s-shuffle!

Your goal this week was to create a piece that featured a sudden shift – a change in mood, a twist in the plot, a major character revelation, etc.
Signature