Bad Hippie, No Patchouli!

...without the "Gangster" Cavalier.

Goodbye, old friend. You were a pretty good car, even if you did smell like teenaged boys and sweaty soccer cleats. Granted, you were old and dingy, but you got us to more games than most people have attended in their lives. On your best days, you could transport at least four members of our little team, two bags of soccer balls, an equipment bag, and a slew of water bottles. And all in style -- with Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre accompanying us into the parking lot with great fanfare, much to my travelers' delight.

Sadly, it is your bumper stickers that will be missed. Not by all, but by me. It was a distinctive trademark that made you easier to find in crowded parking lots, and embarrassed the crap out of the boys who dared bum a ride in your august self. A two-fer, if you ask me.

But, much as I loved you, your replacement is totally sweet. Not as charming or careworn, but sporty and well, cute. Sorry, old friend. It's time for the younger generation to make the soccer runs now. Rest well.

My mother was, and is, a public high school teacher. At 60-plus years old, she's been teaching kids (and sometimes their kids) since she graduated from college,-- with stops to raise her kids along the way. The Hippie Patriarch was a high school teacher, too -- but is now retired. Yet I spent the first seven years of my school existence in the local Catholic school. Why?

Rumor has it that when I was one-ish, my mother heard tales from other mothers about the local eighth grade girls giving blow jobs to high school boys behind the middle school. Not only did that cause her to reconsider the advantages of private school, she decided we had to move out of that school district entirely -- just in case the parochial schools in that locale had been infected with such deviant behavior. Hence my introduction to nuns, their rulers, and kneeling on cold, linoleum floors for daily prayers.

When I transitioned to a public junior high, it was a bit of a shock. I was used to my small cohort of friends and the daily rhythms of prayer and mass and religion classes. Public school was a shock! It didn't help that my new junior high was bigger than my entire Catholic school, lower and upper grades, put together. I was much happier when we moved to a school district with a tiny high school school. I graduated with only 122 kids in my class...most of whom I knew by name if not reputation. It was a better fit for a shy teenager.

When The Beavis had to sign up for kindergarten, I didn't have a lot of choices. I was just getting out of college and was working through an internship, and there was really no money to be had. His dad was still in graduate school. So, when they announced kindergarten screening at the local elementary school, off he went. I had heard rumors about our district...the students scored poorly on national tests and we were on academic alert. But I also had heard from other parents that they were satisfied with the results they saw, and I knew many kids who had survived their experience to go on to good colleges. It couldn't be all bad, right?

Well, the younger grades were just fine for The Beavis and his friends. Then came middle school with its testosterone, attitude, and general teenagery-ness. Throw in a principal who was just phoning it in, and the inmates were running the asylum. The Beavis had a relatively easy transition of it, but still -- was it enough to get him the education he needed?

See, I believe in the public schools whole-heartedly. Sure, I went to an esteemed liberal arts college and could be considered a snot, but I did it on my own...getting a scholarship and paying for the loans myself, all while raising The Beavis. So I believe anyone can do it if they are crafty enough. Heck, I came from a rural school district that didn't have a lot of money, and I was able to compete with the best and brightest from East Coast prep schools. I figured a solid home life and an active parent would see The Beavis through just fine.

His dad disagreed. There were fights, several court dates, and the threat to remove him to a Catholic School, even though his dad was no longer a practicing Catholic. Or of having him attend school in his dad's district -- which had a lot more money, and well, a lot less diversity (to put it kindly). The Beavis was adamant. He was staying with his cohort, come hell or high water. So, he did. And he does pretty well...straight A's, minor discipline problems, and an interest in school athletics. But do those straight A's mean he's not challenged? Or is he just that smart?

I don't know. A few years ago, the district gained a new superintendent. He's heavy into the technology and is interested in raising the district's standards. Recently, the school voted to implement the IB (International Baccalaureate) curriculum, which befuddled a lot of parents. From what I can see, it starts in the middle grades and works it's way up, culminating with a special degree for students who sign up for that particular track. It seems like a more integrated teaching approach that blends subjects together to show students how things are inter-related, and fosters inquiry, creativity, and service over rote memorization and just passing some state-mandated tests.

In short, it's a liberal arts teaching approach plunked down in a public school setting.

Needless to say, I LOVE this idea. The most amazing thing to me about my college experience was the fact that everything was inter-related. I'd be sitting in my history class and realize that we were talking about a book I'd been reading in my English class, then I'd go to one of my religion classes and be able to relate the other two courses right back to that subject, too. Granted, I had loosely crafted a medieval studies major for myself, so everything was very inter-connected by design. But still, it blew my mind. Coming from high school where you filled out a lot of worksheets and copied notes off the board AND used the same damn fetal pig for a week's worth of dissection during June because of budgetary constraints, this was a true epiphany.

Still, The Beavis and his friends are 14. They are entering high school and will be experiencing all the weirdness that goes along with it -- girls and dating and even more hormonal crap. Is it too late for them? Are they too conditioned to worksheets and rote memorization to appreciate the opportunity they now have for inquiry and learning for learning's sake? I mean, come on. Not many 14 year olds can see past the latest juicy school gossip (on a consistent basis) to appreciate this type of experience. Or maybe I'm wrong, and these kids are going to surprise me. I don't know. It worries me. The younger kids will benefit from the full extent of the program, but The Beavis and his friends are the experiments, the tail end -- so to speak -- of this program. Will it be enough?

At the very least, the IB will separate out the college-track kids from the less college-oriented kids. Granted, that will take him away from some of his friends, but it will also take him away from some of the bad influences he is currently exposed to. And, yeah -- that sounds snotty. But I'm struggling with wanting the best possible future for him with wanting this awesome utopia where every kid loves learning and school is an academically-challenging, safe place. And we all know that isn't true -- just turn on the news and see how many teachers have gotten beat up in the last week alone. Or how many kids are being bullied and threatened on a daily basis.

It's a real dilemna. I want The Beavis to be normal and well socialized (and clearly, I can't home school him with a full-time job, and never could), but I want him to be safe and well-educated, too. The only thing I can do is work with the current system and stay involved in his life, and hope that it all comes out in the wash at the end of the day.

And really, isn't that what parenting is about? Doing your best through your fears and doubts, and having faith that a happy ending will work itself out?

No, I am not running for public office. But I thought I'd share the highlights of the democratic primary, from my unique point of view as a resident of Mayberry-on-Acid, U.S.A.

Exhibit A:

One of Beavis' closest friends is a bit precocious...in fact, he's so precocious that during the last election (at the age of 10), he requested that I drive him around town and help pull down all of the yard signs that had been put up in support of George Bush. This time around, he's 14. He recently spent the night at our house, and no -- the boys didn't surf the Internet for naked picts of Lindsey Lohan or try to get me to rent them inappropriate movies. Instead, they watched the campaign returns on CNN. Yes, you heard me -- two 14-year-old boys watched the campaign returns on CNN on a Friday night, while discussing the merits of Barak vs. Hillary. Talk about strange. I don't even watch the returns, and I'm supporsed to be an informed citizen! Thank God for Yahoo! alerts.

Exhibit B:

HWSRN's uncle called from California to report on the political climate there. The Californians had just finished their primary, and HWSRN's uncle was flush with the responsibility of exercising his right to vote. When we asked him how the vote went, he answered, rather cryptically: "Today I drank the Obama kool-aid."

Is it just me, or is it a little disturbing to mention a future presidential candidate and Jonestown in the same breath? Scary! Unfortunately, I can't stop using this phrase to describe Obama now. Everything Obama does can now be related to kool-aid. We're doomed, America! Doomed!

Exhibit C:

While standing in line to vote on Mayberry's version of Super Tuesday, I got to listen to the best and brightest minds in my little college town weigh in on candidates. Granted, the best and brightest minds seemed a little confused by the provisional ballot fiasco, but they were enthusiastic and had turned out in droves. My favorite conversation, between two future mathematicians, I think, went something like this:

"Dude. It's March 4! Isn't that cool? It's March 4, and were, like, marching forward towards change. March - marching, get it?"

To which his companion replied, "Dude. That's AWESOME.

Okay, Keanu. Maybe it's time to lay off the magical herbs a bit and pay more attention to the candidates' platforms than to the date. Geez!

Not the most scintillating observations, to be sure, but a pretty telling portrait of life in small-town U.S.A., where the Birkenstock-wearing liberals drive Priuses and the teenagers want to commit vandalism against political signage.

Good Lord. It's like living in some strange, hippie time-warp. Help me, Abbie Hoffmann!

There's nothing cozier than sitting in your house with a hot cup of cocoa on a snowy day, if you have nowhere to go -- but it's a whole different story if you have to commute. Last year's snow didn't affect me much, since I was laid off, and the seven years before that were spent working in a small office three blocks from my front porch. So I've never truly experienced the special kind of hell that comes during a snowy rush hour until this year. And believe me, I'm ready for it to end.

Except for that whole part about being snowed in at home and stuff. That's not bad at all, especially when you have a cat or two on your lap and some warm knitting to keep your hands busy. Then, views like this one are pretty darn amazing.

When we first brought Picasso into the Hippie Household, Stinky was a little bit upset. There was a ton of hissing, lots of attitude and a hunger strike that lasted, oh -- three days. But just look at them now:

Aren't they cute? I've got a little old married couple living in my house. They fight, they make up, and at the end of the day -- they go to bed pretty happy with eachother. We should all be so lucky.

Happy belated Valentine's Day to everyone in Blogland!