My son said I would write about this

First, I have no idea who these people are. I was looking for Thanksgiving photos because, well, I didn't take any during our family feast. So, we have this family of strangers but at least they're waving at us.

My son, Travis, said I would write about the post-Thanksgiving day sales. He was right. Thanksgiving too. Thanksgiving takes on some meaning to the Williams footprint. We've had benchmark days that tied, at least myself, to what the holiday is suppose to be about.

When I was growing up, we never talked about the meaning of the day. I mean, we prayed over the meal, but that was about it. We went to our grandparents house and my two brothers would attempt to out eat the other. Two plates of food covered from rim to rim-impressive. Then dessert. Very impressive. We would dress up in tight clothes and eat off of good china. Grandmother was an amazing cook. I can still remember her fried chicken. Wow.

But then my parents and grandparents died off; I grew up; got married, had kids and had traditions of our own. Then, the Thanksgiving of 2000 rolled in. Two days before this Thanksgiving, we found out Joni had breast cancer.

And the prayers got real.

It was a great holiday and a terrifying holiday all at once. Conversations in the next forty-eight hours included combo platters like "Are you bringing rolls and oh, by the way, do you want to be buried or cremated if things goes south?" Weird.

Then there was the Thanksgiving of 2007 and the little boy who was ours was now a man and in the throat of the dragon that day. Travis was in Iraq, Saddam's hometown as a matter of fact. He volunteered to go out on patrol that Thanksgiving day, not necessarily so others could stay in and relax; he needed to stay busy. That was a long day for the father-"Are you bringing rolls and oh, by the way, has our son been shot today?" Again, weird.

Now, in 2009, Jessica and Matthew had Eli, a five pounder plus, on the Tuesday before, offsetting Joni's little event, but then Jessica's labs went south and sometime during the night, there was discussion of the day going really bad. But then the dawn brought a new day, and a full recovery. Weird.

Now, the Williams', some accusing Dad of starting, have a tradition of going out at pre-dawn on Friday and hitting the stores. It's funny, Dad doesn't buy anything; he just watches. The center to the American Free-Enterprise system is examined that day. All the scary people that make up the backbone to this civilization are there, buying crap that can't fit in a grocery cart, oh, and a pack of gum as well. The Williams family, working on a gift exchange program and having their gift list and dollar limit fan out and hide from each other, not wanting anyone to see what they bought. Weird.

The day is topped with breakfast at Five and Diner. A short stack, or an omelet, or some other combo platter and lots of coffee.

It's here that some of us, review the meaning of the holiday. Funny, it has nothing to do with anything advertised, purchased, traded in for, or listed. It has everything to do with those around the table and their spouses home with sleeping kids and how we survive those times when things aren't so good.

Weird? No, not really.

Smells are funny

You ever notice smells? They're funny.

We can find ourself walking down a street on a spring day and we can't stop breathing in deeply through our noses, inhaling the fresh aroma of orange blossoms. Or how about a store like Macy's or some other big retailer where they have ozone generators. That's why it smells so good; they generate electricity that lights up the air.

Or the fresh smell of a baby just after a bath.

Or how about a dog? I love dog smell. Not to be mixed with dog breath.

Or fresh baked bread, or chocolate chip cookies?

Then, as you get older, smells start to, well, change.

On the up side, you bury your nose in a tall glass of red wine, or even better-a short glass of scotch.

But then there's the not so good side. Like my tennis shoes right now. Yeah, sorry, too much information. But their comfortable tennis shoes and I like them. Although the sole is coming off-again-and they kind of flap a little when I walk. I have loyalty to clothes. If you serve me well, I will wear you until you disintegrate in the washer.

Fresh baby smell-meet fresh elderly man sitting in his ripe shoe smell. Yeah, not as cute. We even take our babies and blow raspberries on the bottom of their feet to watch them giggle and laugh. You wouldn't survive doing that to me, not today, after lawn cutting. You would pass out because whatever odor is coming off of my feet right this second is displacing oxygen and you would suffocate unless the chemicals in what ever that smell is, mixes with the moisture in your lungs and you find yourself clawing your way across the carpet towards an open window, dying slowly of some chemical reaction in your lungs.

Wet dogs don't do it for me. Nope. Not at all.

How about that funky smell when you leave chicken in the kitchen trash too long in the summer? Now, there is something to compete with the shoes! I got into my son's truck the other day and he normally keeps it pretty clean but something had crawled in there and died, maybe a free range chicken from the neighborhood. I looked down and had both of my feet so it wasn't me.

Sometimes noses smell stuff that isn't there. Example: sometimes when I'm outside, I could swear I smell cigarettes. Its actually fresh air but something causes me to smell that, weird. I remember working environmental crimes years ago and one of the safety things we learned early was that if you smelled a chemical smell, and then it went away, it wasn't that it went away and you were no longer standing in the middle of some toxic fume, it was that your nose and nasal membranes got overwhelmed and they didn't smell it anymore. They stopped working. That is never a good sign.

Now how come that doesn't happen to my feet?

Sorry, I'd just thought I'd share. Go back to whatever you were doing. I have to go glue the sole back on my shoe-again.

I Now Know Why

There is a great story I heard once. It was Pearl Harbor, December 7th. I think it was the USS Nevada; it was moored and its engines cold when it was attacked. The captain called down to engineering and told the young chief who answered he needed power yesterday. Normally, it took a battleship at least a half hour to come up to steam. The chief told the captain he would be ready to answer bells in 10 minutes. It was a cold engine start. It had never been done-until that day.

10 minutes later the chief called the bridge and told the astonished captain he had power. The chief won the Navy Cross for that.

I now know why the life expectancy of a teacher, teaching in the high school system (I am guessing it would apply to elementary school teachers as well) is only five years. The system, although not broken, is, well-bent.

Look, we have the best education system in the world. Sorry, you can pick and choose any country, ANY country, and we pound them like any opponent in an Ali fight. But its almost like those that manage our system sit down and actually try to figure out a way to make it difficult to work in that same system. We all are responsible, from parents to the head of the State Department of Education. All of us have got to look at this with common sense instead of "Who can we blame because Johnny can't read."

Actually, Johnny can read. He just isn't reading to the level we want him to read; or Johnny, believe it or not, doesn't give a crap about reading, writing, and definitely nothing to do with the slope-intercept formula. He would rather be listening to his I-Pod and 'shooting hoops' with his buddies or dealing with stuff beyond our comprehension. Now, there are a bunch, I want to say the majority of students, who do care. But if you have a bleeding artery, you don't spend a lot of time on those body parts that are working. All your focus is on the bleeder.

AIMS-Arizona Instruments to Measure Standards, came out in the late 1990's to start to hold schools accountable for educating Johnny to a certain level. They established that Johnny had to take a standardized test his 3rd, 8th and high school year. He only needed to pass the high school test to graduate. The other two he could have answered with a crayon and his toes and no one cared, just the high school test was the one where kids would be held back. The state, realizing it was a high stakes test and Johnny might need to run at it more than once, started to give him the test his 10th grade year. The idea was that Johnny didn't graduate until he passed the test. They even had practice years, where the test wasn't counted, it was just a research tool to see how students would do.

They bombed.

It took them a couple of years to figure out the math results, the worst of the three tests (reading, writing, and math), had calculus on the test. No big deal except calculus was not normally taught in high school. Students had never seen it. It was an elective class-not required-Oops. So, they adjusted and cut back to have algebra and geometry. However, now, both subjects are not completed until, at the earliest, the end of a student's 10th grade year. The same year they start taking the test in February and all schools are measured by. A lot of students take algebra their freshmen year, then geometry their sophomore year, whether they pass algebra or not. They just keep moving. Now, if Johnny doesn't pass algebra, they are fast tracking him into geometry because he has to take it on AIMS as well as having completed Algebra 3/4 by his senior year, whether he understands it or not.

Now, schools are starting to fail to make "AYP", annual yearly progress. The feds said, 'No Child left Behind', including SPED kids, that school should be moving forward, until all children-100% pass the test with the federal guidelines. Now, some of those federal people have great hearts, but they didn't bring their check book- a big checkbook.

Here's where it gets funny.

Test makers also intend students, who are new to this country and can not read or write, to take the test in the English language. Many seeing the English alphabet for the first time. This also applies to special education (SPED) kids. The legislature and Congress hold schools accountable for these groups passing the AIMS test. If these two groups of kids don't pass, the school, teachers, staff, administrators, could be replaced. Here's an even funnier part-I'll give you two real scenarios: 1) a student arrives on Monday to his new school. He is a refugee and Catholic Services, a great organization, helps him settle in his new life and enrolls him in high school. He is from a country that has actually seen the English alphabet. We get many students who have never seen the English alphabet. This particular student uses it in his native French language, anyway, he gets here on Monday, Tuesday he has to sit and take the AIMS test-wait-it gets better-the test on Tuesday is the writing component. He is given a writing 'prompt' that he has to read-in English- and answer in writing-that's right-in English. Lets just say he didn't do too well. So, he had a bad test day. The next day, Wednesday, he gets to take the Reading component-in English. Of course the math section is in, that's right, English.

No problem, he has until his senior year to pass and usually the staff do a Herculean job of getting him to that level. BUT-the school and the teachers are held accountable under AYP for that first test. He failed. That means the school failed. 2) SPED kids are accommodated throughout their school career. They should be. However, in AIMS they're not. Oh, yeah, they only have to try the test once. They are not required to ever pass it. It can be written into their education plan that they don't have to take the test ever again. BUT-the school is held accountable because SPED Johnny didn't pass the test his sophomore year. By 2014 it is required that 100% of the SPED kids have to pass the test. 100%.

You couldn't get 100% of Congress to even show up to vote on No Child Left Behind.

Teachers get asked, "Why is your D and F rate so high? What are you doing wrong-something must be wrong with your teaching?" D and F rate effects graduation rate and drop out rate, two other factors with AYP/No Child Left Behind and state measuring guidelines. Teachers were stopped being asked about D and F when it was discovered that of the, lets say 70% failure rate, 95% of those particular students had over a 40% absentee rate. In a 9 week term, they had missed anywhere between 25-50% of those days. You can't learn if your not here.

Where were they? Well, some are working 3rd shift at the CVS to make money for the family or themselves because they moved out due to their home life was so bad. Some were taking care of little brother or little sister because single mother is at work and can't afford a baby sitter. They overslept because they were on the phone with their boyfriend/girlfriend until 3am. They overslept because they were on the phone with their boyfriend/girlfriend until 3am talking about what they were going to do about the pregnancy. Or, they get to school late because mom or dad didn't want to drive them. When they're in class, they're not in class. A cold engine.

Now teachers aren't perfect, far from. They bitch more than cops, and I thought that was impossible, but they do. But maybe there's a reason. A lot of these problems would fall on deaf ears in parts of our society where ELL, Title 1, or SPED kids don't exist in any great number. There are some schools where there are virtually no Title 1 kids. These are usually the kids who fall into these categories we're talking about. Where discipline is not an issue and where STD's, pregnancies, and drug use, are handled by the family because they are embarrassed by the potential social stigma that could result if it was known publicly so they throw money at it and poof! It all goes away-back under the carpet. But for a great percentage of schools who deal with the vast majority of our kids, this is not a possibility. Its only getting worse.

I had a meeting with a parent the other day. The mother, counselor, three teachers, and the student met to discuss why 'Johnny' was circling the drain. The mother was berating the boy, who was busy dealing with what he was going to do as a senior, about trying to finish school, and whether he was going to marry or somehow financially support his 15 year-old girlfriend and their love child, created in a bathroom stall. The mother, claiming that she and her husband only had an 8th grade education, couldn't understand why Johnny was the way he was.

Johnny just hung his head. He had heard it all before. The cycle was repeating itself.

Look, I'm coming to grips with my heritage, I'm part Scottish. We love a good fight. But Geezus, Mary, and Joseph, if you ain't going to use the brain that God gave ya, and create solutions to the ills of the process, then don't get in the way of those that can. If you got no business in the engine room, then get the hell out of the way; I got a cold engine I gotta light.