Reflections on a Graduation Commencement

Last Saturday, I passed a milestone in my life. My youngest son graduated from college. The last of my four children to complete the marathon of modern education. Every parent wants to give their children what is good, what is best. In our case we wanted to give our children the tools to succeed in whatever life sent their way. To that end we encouraged independence but required education. So it was that we sent them to go to college, a somewhat imperfect means of attaining that end.

I am proud of my youngest in attaining his degree with honors. He chose to attend his graduation ceremony, so it provided the opportunity to visit campus one last time. It was with some nostalgia as I sat in the auditorium watching the excited buzz of a graduation. I can still see my oldest daughter's face in the back seat as our car backed out of the driveway on her way to the first day of Kindergarten those many years ago.

Sitting in my slightly dirty but completely broken seat in the auditorium, I was lost in cherished memories of the past. But the man seated behind me had the kind of voice that carries. He was conducting a monologue in an authoritative, but somewhat pompous, manner. So I knew immediately that he must be my age. When his voice showed signs of running down, a younger male voice would ask a worshipful question, properly phrased to display knowledgeability of the subject of the monologue. Ah I thought, it must be a boyfriend of the older man's daughter. Not yet a son-in-law, as he is still trying to create a good impression.

The older man was speaking of how short sighted and foolish the voters in Colorado were. It seems they had voted down all the bond issues for education in the recent election. In short, Colorado had too many old people, childless couples and far right Republicans. The obvious solution was to move education spending from the hands of the voters to the wise and farseeing councils of Public Policy. It is probably with some jealousy that I listened to the conversation, as would have any man in my position. It isn't often that we get to speak at length. To be listened to with respect is just a fantasy. This man was living the dream.

Just then the ceremony began. Coming down the aisle before us was a long line of older people dressed in somewhat bizarre costumes, with some of them carrying colorful banners with archaic writing on them. Walking in a slow and self conscious step, they were a mixture of solemnity and nervous chatter. While their dress was the height of fashion at the court of Henry II or Richard the Lion Hearted, it was not so stylish seen against basketball nets.

Going out for lunch after the ceremony, my eye caught a newspaper headline that spoke of the latest failure of the Big 3 Automaker bailout. And the day's events made me sad. For I fear that our school system will follow our automaker's into bankruptcy. Or worse. Bankruptcy at least offers the hope of a new beginning. Continued funding of failed companies and managements simply provides for continuation of the sadness and failure.

The latest issue of the New Yorker magazine has an excellent article about teaching. The article points out that research shows the difference in student outcomes between good teachers and poor teachers is simply staggering. But, it continues, we don't know how to predict whether someone will be a good teacher or not. It compares teachers to pro football quarterbacks. We can't predict whether a college quarterback will make it in the pros or not. We just have to let them play, or teach. But our present system for hiring, paying and employing teachers depends on meeting certain qualifications. Yet none of those qualifications have any measurable validity in predicting or determining whether the teacher is any good at teaching.

Members of my family and friends of my family are teachers. They are good people and they work hard. More than most, they take ownership in what they do. Everyday they make a difference in lives of children. To quote a great book, they are the "salt of the earth". They trust their leadership to do right by them.

I don't know any of the United Auto Workers, or the leaders of that union. But I think that the same could be said of the UAW members who work on the assembly lines of General Motors, Ford and Chrysler. Their fathers were at Omaha Beach on D-Day. They jumped out of helicopters into the Ia Drang Valley. Many of their sons are on patrol in Iraq or Afghanistan. They trusted their union leadership to do right by them as well. But their leaders failed them. And now they must beg for money, or else they will be thrown out in the street. And even if they do get the money, what of their pride, being forced to live on the dole?

But a long time ago, their union's leaders became more interested in protecting their people from competition and from new ways of doing things. Company management spent more and more time figuring out how to out negotiate the union. Cars weren't what they focused on. People were going to buy whatever they made anyhow. And so a few brave consumers started to buy Toyota's or Datsun's . You know the rest.

Now we have some brave consumers that are buying charter schools, or faith based schools. They are buying anything that is not controlled by the unions and the rigid managements that deal with them. I worry for those I know and love who are teachers.

Just Say No to Chili's

I lost my temper over the Thanksgiving Holiday. It happened unexpectedly and quickly. Late Sunday afternoon, we were in the San Diego Airport returning to Denver. Our flight was delayed for a couple of hours due to mechanical problems. But as I told my son-in-law, you learn to accept inconvenience when traveling. Otherwise the petty frustrations will take years off your life from induced stress. As it turns out, those were fateful words.

We decided to slip into the Chili's Restaurant at the airport for some food and drink. Finding a table we chatted amiably until the server made her way to our table. Asking for drinks, she took our orders for the art of the bremaster. As expected, she asked my son and son-in-law for their ID's. And then it happened.

She asked for my ID. Caught off guard, I looked back at her with a question in my eyes; and I am sure a look of pure evil. I got back a very determined and no nonsense look. Feeling my blood pressure rapidly to a dangerous level, I took my driver's license out with a decided lack of grace. Reacting to the new chill in the air, the server took great care in looking over my license. This was now a game of power and the victor would leave no doubt as to who won. While I had not raised my voice or thrown any tableware, my family was noticeably silent for some moments after the exchange. The contest had not gone unobserved.

But why did I get so mad so fast over such a trivial incident? Just to satisfy your morbid curiosity, I would be enormously flattered if anyone mistook me for under 50, let alone under 21. What little hair I have is gray, and there is more than a trace in my face of past laughter. Obviously I hadn't taken my own advice about letting petty frustration roll off your back. This was the definition of petty, and it had definitely not rolled off my back.

But where do we draw the line? Requiring me to prove my age to get a beer is silly. Mindless is the word I used with my family at the time. My age is so far past the legal drinking age that it is obvious. It is mindless and it is also petty.

And it occurred in that modern epitome of both the mindless and the petty, an airport. How many times have you watched as an elderly lady has her dignity removed while strangers watch during a "random" search of her person as we pass through Security? How many times have I discovered holes in the socks of my fellow passengers? Large signs threaten us with jail for comedy, as we, mindless robots with straight faces look straight ahead and mechanically thank the uniforms who wish us a nice day.

The outrage I feel is not for the reasons for which we engage in this mindlessness. It is because of the very banality of it. It is banal and we stand helpless as individuals before it. Fear of assault in the courts over perceived injustice or unjust discrimination has caused managers to take decision making from the hands of their employees. And they are sensible in doing so. Any prudent manager will decide that it is better to have a million embarrassed grandmothers or angry old beer drinkers than an ACLU lawsuit over discriminatory profiling.

I understand why we do what we do. And I do not say that I have a better idea. But I must protest. I must hurl my defiance in the face of "The Man". I must let some small part of the world know that I am a man, and I will fight if pushed far enough. Thus I declare to the world that I will take action. I will fight back.

I will say no to Chili's. I will take my business elsewhere. I declare that I will never enter a Chili's Restaurant again.