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Comprehensive #CommonSenseGunLaws

21/2/2018

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If comprehensive #CommonSenseGunLaws were passed in 2018, it would take approximately 21-years to significantly reduce (perhaps eliminate) mass shootings at schools and 35-years to do do the same for mass shootings across the United STates.

Okay, say what you want about my math, but here it is anyway...
If in 2018, the average age of a mass school shooter is 21 and if we subtract 21-years from the current year (2018 - 21) we get the year 1997. I got that approximate age by adding the ages of shooters listed in this NY Daily News. 

If, in 2018, the average age of all mass shooters is 35, and, if we subtract 35 from the current year (2018 - 35) we get the year 1983. I got that approximate age by adding the ages of all the mass shooters listed in a Wikipedia table. 

Imagine today had we accepted our responsibility for developing comprehensive #CommonSenseGunLaws in 1949 at the time of the Camden shooting or in 1966 when the University of Texas tower shooting occurred.

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10 Reasons My Niece & I Attended Local #MarchForScience

23/4/2017

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None of them were particularly...
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none were particularly political...
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Reason #10
All my colleague's slogans were positive
Reason #9
All the art and designs my niece added to the slogans were positive...
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Reason #8
My colleague and I had a serious conversation about whether or not to use sticks for attaching posters...
Reason #7
​
We decided - sticks are too distancing...
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Reason #6
Without distance - we hold our ideas...
Reason #5
Holding ideas makes them real...
Reason #4 Real ideas require dialogue...
Reason #3
​In dialogue, everyone becomes visible...
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Reason #2 ​Visibility moves us from conflict to conversation...
#1 Reason...
We marched for
​CONVERSATION not conflict
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Sisterhood: a poem because I say so

12/4/2017

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Sisterhood...
See it (check).

Sisterhood...
Think it (check).

Sisterhood...
Wear it (check).

Sisterhood...
Do it (uhh, umm)...
See, what had happened was...
I heard - "when you know better, you do better."
However, I didn't realize there was
so much space between
knowing AND DOING.

​Sisterhood...
I didn't know
"doing" was like ALWAYS capitalized

​Sisterhood...
I didn't know
I had to
Experience it.
and/or

Feel it.
and/or

Share it.
and/or

Receive it.
and/or

​Believe it...
Enough to absorb enough space
For me to
Know it AND Do it.

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Day 8: National Poetry Month

8/4/2017

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This One Ain't Mine: It's JoeAnne's from Facebook, Yesterday at 12:18AM

So. . . We answer horror with missiles. . . Hitting an empty airbase.

The ersatz president twirls his nuclear pistols and preens in front of lights and flashing cameras.
A grotesque performance of empty men and meaningless shadows.
​
The children are still dead.
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What Do You Think About Thinking?

8/4/2017

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Day 6 & 7: National Poetry Month

8/4/2017

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Yelp! I missed posting on day 6 because time moved faster than I could.

However, I missed posting a day 7 poem due to unexpected melancholy caused by a variety of issues like coming up with a brand new poem to just give away for free!
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Day 5: National Poetry Month

5/4/2017

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Pop Haiku

Fault not Pepsi/girl
Thinking they speak for our world
​It's "American"


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Day 4: National Poetry Month

4/4/2017

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Prodigal

This is a story
only for fathers and God.
Mothers rarely save their wealth
as after death gifts.
If some mothers hold it all till the end
they've learned this practice from men.

In the story of mothers and God,
we give all to our daughters
shingle by shingle
faith they become
women
fortified in character,
mighty and strong,
with reserves to rebuild
after meeting prodigal sons--
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Day 3: National Poetry Month...

4/4/2017

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A Yevtushenko dashed off, just to mark an occasion poem:

Nemesis for Hire

Greetings My Friend!

Feeling forlorn in a life that’s untorn?

Are your emotions flatlining?
Your food tasteless while dining?

Do you have a Dad and/or Mum?
But the relationship’s not bum?


When you talk to others, do you walk away understood?

Are you a boy or a girl or not sure in this world?

Still, you’ve never had an issue?
Never or rarely in need of tissue?

Are you wondering why you stay in one spot?
Questioning where greener grass grows while yours seems to rot?

Nemesis, my friend.
Everyone needs one.


You know, something to beat,
rage against and defeat!


Oh of your luck, to happen upon me!
A complete free agent, born to circumstance.
A nemesis connoisseur;

I‘ve experienced a slew.
And would love to be nemesis for you!

My resume - more than show and tell
it displays variety as well.

the grandeur of my flighty foes:

Religion and gender and poverty and slights
from elementary school to all sort of professional fights!
Rejections from lovers, acquaintances, colleagues children, and friends,
But my point was not to write a list with no end...

I’ve had intimate sessions with aggressions
Designed by Micro and Mac

Ask those masquerading to "know" me
But really the culprits providing the whacks!

I've lost many battles, but tend to win wars.
It’s the journey my friend,
the end always bores!

But everyone loves you, damn-it: let’s cut to the chase.
I'm a nemesis for hire.
I’ve all you need to sire
a challenging move

And get some flavorful food!

As for your lack of of ambiguity
I'll target your mum -
And develop for you
A graphic-like model, epic Shakespearian feud

You know, the kind,
Only
death soothes
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It's day 2 of Poetry Month, so here is a poem:

3/4/2017

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Title: Remembering the Future


Sitting on the deck built for an outgrown life, the sun moves over head from the east to rest its sinking westward - directly opposite you.


Its roundness spreading; its color smudging into a setting that pulls water from your eyes.


Through blurred vision - welcome the surprise sadness that comes from remembering the future.


By Mursalata
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IF I COULD DRAW - I'd create awesome thought provoking editorial cartoons...

6/3/2017

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They would predict alternative futures: alt-future 1

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Read the Letter Mursalata Muhammad wrote Her Daughters After Reading "Read the Letter Aaron Sorkin Wrote His Daughter After Donald Trump Was Elected President."

14/11/2016

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In a letter hoping to move her two daughters, nearly 60 nieces, and you - the mostly unknown writer born into a world of confusion reacts to the Oscar-winning screenwriter's reaction to Donald Trump being elected the 45th president of the United States in a moving letter written to his 15-year-old daughter Roxy and her mother, Julia Sorkin.
 
Greetings Daughters, Nieces and You:
 
Well, America recognized one of two possible political choices this month. I couldn’t have protected any of you from either choice. While it’s a terrible feeling for a mother, as a human being I’ve come to understand the futility of trying to protect people from politics. Observation, action, and more observation are better for life in a land ironically called the "United" States. Fortunately, those of you who know me - know I can't sugarcoat it. My life experiences gave me "dealing with" not coating skills.
 
My presidential voting experience is similar to Sorkin's because this election wasn't "the first time my candidate didn’t win" - in fact, I've never had a candidate make it far enough to even possibly win. After the election, I felt a bit guilty about writing in names on my ballot for state representative because I thought it may have invalidated the entire ballot. However, I ended the guilt with the reassurance that my write-ins weren’t the tipping point in this election.
 
What I continue to find of growing interest is that this is the first time so many folks have the opportunity to experience the country's thoroughly incompetent and dangerous ideas, as a serious psychiatric disorder that has only been building to another psychotic break. This is not our country’s first or last "collective" mental breakdown. It just has the most consciously aware participants to date. The foundations for our current psychosis began in the 1640s when the colonial customs of indentured service became laws establishing servitude for life and differentiated treatments for "whites" and "blacks" confined by law to service for life.
 
So who really won the election? It wasn’t just Donald Trump, his racially and economically diverse collective of supporters, Mr. Duke (formerly of the KKK), the Klan, white nationalists or any number of sexists, racists buffoons. There are more winners than you’d think. Ask yourself: What is winning? Come on, you’re my daughters - this isn’t the hardest question I’ve ever asked you. Right! One way to understand what something is - is by understanding what it isn’t.

Unfortunately, political winning isn't about issues; political winning is about how to frame and reframe issues, so more people see them at the moment their voices can make a choice. In this sense, you're winners because current politics have reframed issues about gender so clearly that I don’t have to waste energy trying to convince you that sexist, racist buffoons exist. That’s just one of many winning realities the 2016 U.S. elections gave us.
 
Now, we can move on forward to more productive realizations like the fact that "the same office held by Washington and Jefferson, Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt, F.D.R., J.F.K. and Barack Obama, will be held by a man-boy who’ll" (Sorkin) still be constrained by two historically idiotic notions:
  1. a two-party system is democratic
  2. any decision made by individuals elected to make judgments (for life) in a court can be supreme
As for world reactions to a Trump presidency, I say, forget their organizational emotions bearing "state of fear" clothing as predicted by economists and "felt" by the Dow and NATO. Instead, pay attention to the fears of everyday people.

It was their ability to collect and embody their fears in an individual that produced our current political predicament. Additionally, if there are Muslim-Americans, Mexican-Americans, and African-Americans shaking in their shoes today, believe, those folk were shaking before the election. A large number of Americans understand that America has been hard-pressed to produce a culture capable of making them okay with packaging away their fears. Afraid or not, those willing to participate in the voting process weren't aware of how much the collective fear of Trump supporters outnumbered their fears. Anti-trump voters are just beginning to understand that their tendency to segregate their fears guaranteed failure.
 
Before moving on to ideas for how we might address our country's psychotic state, Sorkin asks, "What wouldn’t we give to trade this small fraction of a man for Richard Nixon right now?"
 
My answer: Nothin'. I'd give absolutely nothing because my experience with "collective crazy" leads me to know that which created the psychotic break is capable of reframing and repairing it.
 
I suggest you re-read Sorkin's letter (Click Here). He includes a list of suggested actions you might consider. My only addition is to remind you that "It's okay to be afraid. Be afraid. Then do things anyway. Sometimes, you have to do things afraid" (Mutasha Muhammad, 1930 - 2011).
 
Smooches,
 
Mursalata Muhammad,
Mother, Aunt, Human being.
11 November 2016
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Straight-up Plagiarizing Lincoln

17/8/2016

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Mursalata Muhammad
her hand & pen
she'll be great but
god knows when

Mursalata Muhammad is my name
with my pen & access to various technologies I wrote the same
I wrote it in both haste and speed
& left it here for fools to read
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Wilson, Douglas (2006). Lincoln's Sword, page 23.

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The Fruit of Practicing What You Teach...

14/8/2016

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@6:33pm I finally read what I wrote to me...

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"Living in Two Worlds" by Marcus Mabry Newsweek on Campus 1988 

20/6/2016

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A round, green cardboard sign hangs from a string proclaiming, “We built a proud new feeling,” the slogan of a local supermarket. It is a souvenir from one of my brother’s last jobs. In addition to being a bagger, he’s worked at a fast-food restaurant, a gas station, a garage and a textile factory. Now, in the icy clutches of the Northeastern winter, he is unemployed. He will soon be a father. He is 19 years old.

In mid-December I was at Stanford, among the palm trees and weighty chores of academe. And all I wanted to do was get out. I joined the rest of the undergrads in a chorus of excitement, singing the praises of Christmas break. No classes, no midterms, no finals . . . and no freshmen! (I’m a resident assistant.) Awesome! I was looking forward to escaping. I never gave a thought to what I was escaping to.

Once I got home to New Jersey, reality returned. My dreaded freshmen had been replaced by unemployed relatives; badgering professors had been replaced by hard-working single mothers, and cold classrooms by dilapidated bedrooms and kitchens. The room in which the “proud new feeling” sign hung contained the belongings of myself, my mom and my brother. But for these two weeks it was mine. They slept downstairs on couches.
​
Most students who travel between the universes of poverty and affluence during breaks experience similar conditions, as well as the guilt, the helplessness and, sometimes, the embarrassment associated with them. Our friends are willing to listen, but most of them are unable to imagine the pain of the impoverished lives that we see every six months. Each time I return home I feel further away from the realities of poverty in America and more ashamed that they are allowed to persist. What frightens me most is not that the American socioeconomic system permits poverty to continue, but that by participating in that system I share some of the blame.

Last year I lived in an on-campus apartment, with a (relatively) modern bathroom, kitchen and two bedrooms. Using summer earnings, I added some expensive prints, a potted palm and some other plants, making the place look like the more-than-humble abode of a New York City Yuppie. I gave dinner parties, even a soirée française.

For my roommate, a doctor’s son, this kind of life was nothing extraordinary.  But my mom was struggling to provide a life for herself and my brother. In addition to working 24-hour-a-day cases as a practical nurse, she was trying to ensure that my brother would graduate from high school and have a decent life. She knew that she had to compete for his attention with drugs and other potentially dangerous things that can look attractive to a young man when he sees no better future.

Living in my grandmother’s house this Christmas break restored all the forgotten, and the never acknowledged, guilt. I had gone to boarding school on a full scholarship since the ninth grade, so being away from poverty was not new.

But my own growing affluence has increased my distance. My friends say that I should not feel guilty: what could I do substantially for my family at this age, they ask. Even though I know that education is the right thing to do, I can’t help but feel, sometimes, that I have it too good. There is no reason that I deserve security and warmth, while my brother has to cope with potential unemployment and prejudice. I, too, encounter prejudice, but it is softened by my status as a student in an affluent and intellectual community.

More than my sense of guilt, my sense of helplessness increases each time I return home. As my success leads me further away for longer periods of time, poverty becomes harder to conceptualize and feels that much more oppressive when I visit with it. The first night of break, I lay in our bedroom, on a couch that let out into a bed that took up the whole room, except for a space heater. It was a little hard to sleep because the springs from the couch stuck through at inconvenient spots. But it would have been impossible to sleep anyway because of the groans coming from my grandmother’s room next door. Only in her early 60s, she suffers from many chronic diseases and couldn’t help but moan, then pray aloud, then moan, then pray aloud.

Not very festive: This wrenching of my heart was interrupted by the 3 a.m. entry of a relative who had been allowed to stay at the house despite rowdy behavior and threats toward the family in the past. As he came into the house, he slammed the door, and his heavy steps shook the second floor as he stomped into my grandmother’s room to take his place, at the foot of her bed. There he slept, without blankets on a bare mattress. This was the first night. Later in the vacation, a Christmas turkey and a Christmas ham were stolen from my aunt’s refrigerator on Christmas Eve. We think the thief was a relative. My mom and I decided not to exchange gifts that year because it just didn’t seem festive.

A few days after New Year’s I returned to California. The Northeast was soon hit by a blizzard. They were there, and I was here. That was the way it had to be, for now. I haven’t forgotten; the ache of knowing their suffering is always there.  It has to be kept deep down, or I can’t find the logic in studying and partying while people, my people, are being killed by poverty. Ironically, success drives me away from those I most want to help by getting an education.

Somewhere in the midst of all that misery, my family has built, within me, “a proud feeling.” As I travel between the two worlds it becomes harder to remember just how proud I should be — not just because of where I have come from and where I am going, but because of where they are. The fact that they survive in the world in which they live is something to be very proud of, indeed. It inspires within me a sense of tenacity and accomplishment that I hope every college graduate will someday possess.
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Flint Michigan & The Freddie Gray Syndrome

25/1/2016

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There is more than a "Water" issue
in Flint Michigan

Sure we can donate water, but who is donating the pediatric services and the other long term health and educational needs lead-poisoned children in Flint, Michigan require? Let's be frank, Flint is in the media due to gross governmental negligence, but it is not the only poor U.S. community at stake. However, while we can multitask, we cannot fully give our critical attention to children in the shadows of media. So, let's focus on Flint and see if we can get traction out of the situation.

Shame on us for our hyper-focus on water delivery and a "who's on first" approach to the cause of the Flint water issue. Why? Because it keeps the real conversation of the long term educational and health effects on the children of Flint out of focus. We are cool with diverting our attention from a burgeoning Freddie Gray Syndrome that can't seem to find its way to Governor Synder's "things to be accountable for" list.

Did you here about the president who, a few years ago, turned his summer home into a refuge at least 100 displaced Syrian children?

Now, I'm not saying Governor Synder is presidential in any why. I'm not even trying to make a direct comparison between him and
Uruguay's President Jose Mujica.

I'm just
asserting that Governor Synder's policies and practices put him a lot closer to the long term struggles of Flint's Children than President Mujica's may have put him to Syrian children.

The Freddie Gray Syndrome: Some Reading...

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  • April 23, 2015 - Baltimore Sun: Beginning of Freddie Gray's life as sad as its end, court case shows CLICK HERE
  • April 26, 2015 - Washington's Post: Freddie Gray’s life a study on the effects of lead paint on poor blacks CLICK HERE
  • April 27 - Think Progress: Before The Police, Freddie Gray Was Attacked By His Own Walls CLICK HERE
  • April 28, 2015 - Daily Mail: How Freddie 'Pepper' Gray, 25, lived off lead paint settlement after being poisoned as a child CLICK HERE
  • May 5, 2015 - The Daily Beast: Why Freddie Gray Never Had a Chance: Lead Poisoning Is Killing Inner-City Baltimore CLICK HERE
  • May 19, 2015 - Fox News: Could lead paint have played a role in Freddie Gray's death? CLICK HERE
  • August 25, 2015 - Washington Post: How companies make millions off lead-poisoned, poor blacks CLICK HERE

According to the Mayo Clinic...

Exposure to even low levels of lead can cause damage over time, especially in children. The greatest risk is to brain development, where irreversible damage may occur.

The signs and symptoms of lead poisoning in children may include:
  • Small amounts of lead can cause serious health problems
  • Developmental delay
  • Learning difficulties
  • Irritability
  • Loss of appetite
  • Weight loss
  • Sluggishness and fatigue
  • Abdominal pain
  • Vomiting
  • Constipation
  • Hearing loss
Lead poisoning symptoms in newborns
Babies who are exposed to lead before birth may experience:
  • Learning difficulties
  • Slowed growth
(yes, it also does horrible things to adults check out the Mayo Clinic's website)
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I've Grown Weary of First's

21/1/2016

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I've grown weary of announcements of "Firsts" - at this moment it's "first generation college student" because the upwardly-mobile reality I've witnessed over the last 40 years reveal we need more than the first generation educated...

For example, the economic success associated with education, only begins with the "first generation" college graduate. Sustaining educational success and, hopefully, building wealth and/or lasting social change with it - requires educating the 2nd and 3rd generations - at least - in a manner that makes education the rule instead of the rule's exception.

That's my only example for now - CLICK HERE for a Brookings report that supports my "first generation college student" weariness.

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Holidays: We Hope You Enjoy Them All...

26/12/2015

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We started ours with welcoming Merry Wishes from family/friends & watching
"The Wiz" & "Home"
last night!
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For 1st day of Kwanzaa - Umoja (unity) - I made the Best Fried Cheese Grits of all my attempts!
My secret: Mom's cast iron skillet.

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My 2003's Best POOR, AVERAGE, GOOD Rate My Professor Comments

15/10/2015

1 Comment

 

2003's Best "POOR" Rating Comment...

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What Drew Me to this Writer's Comment:
  • Emphasis on how I tried to teach EVERYTHING: English, spelling, and grammar
  • The inclusion of "spelling" - considering my personal reliance on spell check, I am not sure what kinds of lessons I used to teach spelling
  • Writer's expressed sense of passion in comment
Reflection: I figured out why the "POOR" ratings sting me a bit - the Rate My Professor website capitalizes the ratings. Now that I've recognized this feature, I make sure to enjoy the higher ratings longer than I twitch at "POOR" ratings.

2003's Best "AVERAGE" Rating Comment...

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What Drew Me to this Writer's Comment:
  • The criteria this writer provides - busy work, unknown expectations, tough grader - does not support an AVERAGE rating (but like some students, I'll take it!)
  • Writer's conclusion  - not recommend me to anyone - is supported by the comments, I'm left wondering why this perception of teaching earns an AVERAGE rating (but like some students, I'll take it),
  • Even with an "average" rating, this writer recommends me to no one
Reflection: In some circumstances I am an AVERAGE student

2003's Best "GOOD" Rating Comment...

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What Drew Me to this Writer's Comment:
  • Writer's ability to see my human flaw - I am lousy at remembering names
  • Writer's interpretation of my job's focus is on benefits for students
  • Perception that I could teach EVERYONE
Reflection:
Teaching is not my job it is my vocation and benefits learners - cool

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Parenting Human Literacy #4: Banking!

16/9/2015

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Money in The Bank...

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Hadit not been for the Lake Michigan Credit Union (LMCU) banking program, Khayriyyah and Khyasirah may have never gotten an allowance (subject for future post). I’m not sure how Wil and I might have thought about paying our children to do anything. I’m sure the issue would have come up at some point, but the LMCU bank program brought the money issue up when the girls were in kindergarten and 2nd grade.


When we received the paperwork about the program, we immediately signed the girls up for savings accounts.  Participating in the banking program meant the girls needed money. We weren’t going to just give them “free” money – that would send a crippling message because we wanted them to learn how to working for AND saving money, right?


NOTE: Never, ever, give your children “free, no strings-attached, unearned money” if you want to leave, become self-sufficient, and potentially be a source you can borrow from at reasonable rates. Check out this resource: Get Kids to Save

Okay, so, the LMCU bank program led us into the realm of allowance earlier than we expected, which was just fine. While I don’t remember what they earned, I’m confident it matched their 5 and 7-year-old skills.



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About the LMCU program:
  • This was a freaking 360-degree wonderful everyone wins idea!
  • Their bank was housed at Endeavor Elementary school. All the banking jobs were held by 5th graders, who were trained to run their school’s LMCU “branch”.
  • I believe, the bank opened once a month during the school day.
  • Students were given time to go the bank, where they could open accounts and make deposits – I think they could only deposit (this is good).


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10% Rule: Save TEN percent ALL money that crosses your palm – this includes
  • Allowance (we matched)
  • Birthdays
  • Graduation money (high school and on
  • Paycheck (when they got their first job)


Where Is All That Money Now?

Well, I wish I could end this post by writing that our girls still have all their saved money, but I can’t because they spent it. They didn’t spend it all at once  - but over time with thoughtful reflection. Sure, I wish we would have done more with their savings like invest some of it (investment: subject for future post).

However, the point of the LMCU banking program was to build a sense of thoughtful habits about money. I'm happy to say both girls have developed a good level of conscious thought about money.

Unfortunately, the LMCU banking project ended a long time ago. When the branch at school ended, the girls took their checks (yes, we only gave them checks) to the real branch. You are missing a special sight if you never see you child walk up to a teller and hand over their check for a deposit.

No, you don’t NEED the bank “branch” at your child’s school – but the educational benefits are hard articulate.

With or without a program like the one Lake Michigan Credit support, Wil and I suggest you start a saving account for your children and pay them with checks (yes, they are going out of style but while they’re still available, order and use them for this purpose).


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Parenting Human Literacy #3: Snacks!

10/9/2015

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As soon as our girls were old enough to argue over what snacks we should buy during our grocery store trips, I began looking for a solution. I decided to turn snack shopping over to them. This was one of the BEST parenting decisions I have ever made in the 18 years I’ve spent with the two of them.

I gave them snack and cereal purchasing duty because they were driving me crazy and had no concept of a grocery budget. They were about 6 & 8-years old. I had a budget of about $40 every two-weeks for snacks, which I gave the budget to them and then the magic began happening.


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I always gave them cash for their grocery/snack shopping. The first few times they went in happily blind to all the decisions that happen while shopping. They argued, and I stayed out of it. They bought snacks with little planning and thought, which resulted in not having enough snacks to last until the next shopping day.

Here is the first big deal rule I gave them:
  • Wil and I did not regulate snack time. That’s right! We told them they could eat their snacks whenever they wanted.

This freedom along with their lack of planning ensured they’d run out of snacks. This was a great lessen because the other rule was “if you run out of snacks before the next grocery day, we will not buy more.” Living with them on the no snack days was awesome! There is nothing more satisfying than watching the reality of no snacks for 6 more days. It only took a few of these experiences to teach them to self-regulate their snacks.


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To help them out, we instituted a few more rules...
1. They had to make a list (planning)
2. They could only have ONE list (cooperation & negotiation)
3. They had to spell everything correctly on their list (language arts)
4. Their idea – calculate to costs and add items up before the checkout - a few times of putting items back at the checkout made them cost conscious – (math skills)

Once we arrived at the store, they took a mini-cart and began their shopping; I took the big cart and began mine. For the record, I was very anxious and worried about letting my girls walk around the store, so I followed them close enough to relax but stayed far enough away so that I never but into their conversations.

Once my girls began doing their own snack/grocery shopping, I enjoyed the whole experience much, much, more.

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To Know His Name is Human Literacy

6/9/2015

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After a day of first world privileges, I cannot sleep without acknowledging our comfort with starting our thinking at the end with labels like "Drowned Syrian Boy" and being complacent with NEVER getting to the humanity of the beginning.

This is Aylan Kurdi. He never lost his humanity. To know his name helps you remember yours.

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What you do next determines your current level of bravery...

1. I'm ready to practice humanity

2. I'm fine with remembering it on photographic occasion

Human Literacy is the process of learning and practicing how to be human while learning and relearning how to recognize the humanity of others. The process of becoming literate of humanity makes it impossible to negate anyone's humanity without the expectation of dire consequences (my working definition).

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Practicing human literacy is exhausting. If you're barely tired, there is more for you to do.

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It's nice to welcome refugees...

1. One hundred children orphaned by the Syrian civil war could find a home in Uruguayan President José "Pepe" Mujica's summer retreat, "a mansion and riverfront estate surrounded by rolling pastures," according to Yahoo News. That would be a welcome sight for any of the hundreds of thousands of refugees displaced by Syria's political turmoil. 


2. One of Egypt's richest men has declared he is seeking to solve the ongoing 
Syrian refugee crisis by purchasing a Greek or Italian island and building a settlement there for hundreds of thousands of refugees.

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Welcome them here WHILE addressing the reasons sending them fleeing.

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Parenting Human Literacy #2: Reflective Discipline

2/9/2015

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NOTE: Whatever discipline you use with your young human beings make sure it includes accountability on everyone’s part. Make sure to acknowledge that consequences can be positive and negative, intended and unintended, known and unknown, and most honestly only loosely in your control at all times. (See Previous post for Human Literacy Definition).

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Before & after I had children, I thought the type of discipline was relative to the situation and did not exclude corporal or psychological punishment. My mother used a variety of punishments (spanking, whopping, psychological maneuvers).

She bore 13 children and explained that some of us responded to just above normal level talking and explanation, some to shouting, some to spanking, which consisted of a limited number of strikes from her hand to the child’s hand or buttocks. Sometimes the spanking employed a ruler, in which cases she notes that you must not be angry during those times because you can misjudge the force needed to make your corporal punishment point. She also told me that some of us responding to privilege restrictions, while others needed whopping.

A whopping is different from spanking because its purpose is to strike clear fear into the child, who was tended to be male and between 10 – 12yrs old (however, female children were not exempt from wondering into this realm of punishment). Whoppings required an instrument: a switch (a specially selected thin flexible branch, sometimes several of them braided together), a belt (the kind men use to hold up their pants not the dainty fashion belts women wore), or a cord (from some discarded appliance). Unfortunately, whoppings are usually accompanied by fear and anger. My mother noted that unlike the fear and anger that accompany whopping, verbal exchanges that attack the child/pre-teen/teen’s self-worth and always anger. Hey, I’m just telling you me experience with this stuff…

My mother explained that by the time you reach whopping-a-child-level you have a bigger problem that the punishment most likely won’t fix. The idea here, is that you’ve already gone through all other non-physical and physical options and are now so despondent that you’re pissed enough to actually hurt this kid, who is probably at a decent age of reason, say, 10 – 14 years or so old.

I had the privilege of seeing how my six older sisters parented. I also had the experience and recall of only two physical altercations with my parents, as I was mostly a talk to child. At some time between 3 and 5-years old, I played with matches, which resulted setting my parents’ room on fire and almost killing younger brother and myself.

Yes, even at that age, I knew what I was doing and it felt great to set the matches catch fire! The sulfuric order intensified once the match was lit, the smoke stung our noses. It was a great few seconds or minutes of acceleration. However, once the curtains shot up to the ceiling in a reddish-orange stinking polyesterish intensity of heat, nothing I’d experienced up to that moment felt worth it. When someone opened the bedroom door in response to our screams, I shot past him/her and immediately sought a hiding place. When I was found, I got a whopping – I was the exception to the age rule – I was okay with the whole thing because I was alive. I never played with matches again. My mother never hit me in any way again. I think she freaked herself out with the amount of fear and anger she had when she whopped me.

The next time I recall receiving physical punishment, it came from my father. He had a sharp, biting, critical tongue, which I inherited and honed under his guidance. I don’t think he was aware of this until I said something to him that struck a nerve – I was being a sarcastic smarty-pants. Whatever I said in response to him, I said in an aloof manner while strolling past him, as if he were a peasant in my empire pre-teen rule. Just as the ending syllables of my “take-that” phrase left my lips and I was near clear of him, I felt a stark sting spread cross my buttocks and realized this person hit me! I could not believe my father spank my behind so hard that the force added an extra step to my haughty stride. 



Tears immediately appeared in my eyes; I don’t think is screamed (but could be wrong because I had a dramatic flair at the time). I do know we made eye contact and he may have warned me to watch my mouth. I was about 12-years old and we both knew should apply to both of us. I also saw the shame and defeat in his face that my critical, sarcastic, biting based on truth words had pushed him to violence. He lost and I won. Like the time I played with matches, nothing I’d experienced up to that moment felt worth it. However, I became aware of my sharp tongue and awareness is the first step to reflective actions and choices. I cannot say I was never sarcastic and critical again.


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My Attempts at 
Physical Discipline


  • Limited spanking to “if you hit her, I’ll hit you with explanation” – EXAMPLE: one of my daughters once kicked her toddler-aged foot at another child and made contact. I gave her foot a tap/spank and talked to the foot as if it had a brain. Then I talked to my daughter about her foot and what happened to make her foot kick someone.

  • I never whopped (I never got that angry or fearful)

  • Okay, once, I slapped one of my daughters across the face. It was a total angered reflex at, guess what? Her biting sarcastic verbal skills and inability to shut up! I did not immediately apologize. I eventually apologized and we talked about how she won because I was moved to violence and I would never allow that to happen again. I have also vowed to find an occasion to slap the other daughter because I want my daughters to understand I love them equally. It’s been 8 years since that incident and to ensure my arm can’t reach her, the as-yet-slapped daughter makes sure her back talk is done from another room. I constantly point this strategic move out the once-slapped daughter. I assure both of them that the as-yet-slapped daughter will slip up one day and I’ll be able to put the universe right. 

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I Prefer Consequence & 
Reflective Moment Discipline

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NOTE: The human beings we raise adapt and so must our disciplinary methods. If we don’t adapt, they will drive us nuts and cause havoc in the world or become victims of it.

Personal and Collective Responsibility:
  •  This disciplinary action required a phone call to my daughter’s school and a note to her teachers, which she had to write. To drive home the point of personal responsibility I once made my daughter carry an empty a dozen-sized Krispy Kreme box around school all day (middle school) because she ate the last doughnut and could not manage to put the box in the trash after several days of reminders. I thought, if she carried the box around all day, she’d remember to put it in the trash at the end of the day.

Time Outs:
  • Once time outs stopped working, (which I could tell because the girls had more fun sitting in a chair as they did playing about freely), I put myself on Time Outs! This only worked twice, but was worth it to bring their attention to their behavior. Yes, they were such an issue that mommy had to go to her room a shut the door. It was nice to hear the perplexity, as they loudly whispered outside my door trying to figure out when I might come out again. GREAT!

Hugging, Listing, Telling, Explaining: When they argued or dared say I don’t love/like you, they were sentenced to... 

  • Hugging each other for an unspecified amount of time
  • Writing a list of good things about the person other and reading the list to the person
  • Telling/explaining to the person how the felt/feel and would need to heal

Restorative justice:
  • Yes, we allow our children to weigh in on disciplinary consequences for themselves and others

Think About Yourself:
  • When there were issues, which happen in child-teen years, they were banished to their rooms to think about themselves for a while and write in their journals. When they felt ready to talk about the issue, they could come out. If they came up unprepared to talk about the issue, they were sent back, and could not come out until we (mom/dad) felt enough time had passed.


That’s All



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Parenting Human Literacy #1: New Mommy!

26/8/2015

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Human Literacy is the process of learning and practicing how to be human while learning and relearning how to recognize the humanity of others. The process of becoming literate of humanity makes it impossible to negate anyone's humanity without the expectation of dire consequences (my working definition).
  • I am sharing my parenting escapades because many people have been amused by them, while others have suggested I share them with the world - or those few people who happen across this Blog.
  • I begin this (hopefully) regular sharing by telling you, the reader, that nothing I share is guaranteed to work. My parenting actions were mostly reactions to my children. I spent my time trying to ebb their flow, while ensuring thoughtfulness on everyone's part. 
  • My first advice is to remain calm (as calm as the reality of the situation allows because, yes, I did slap someone once - but that's a teen story and these entries focus on the lovely early childhood - pre-teen days of parenting humany literacy).

Number 1

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It was a lovely day. My daughters were with me at home, and memory says it was a Saturday because there was no sense of rush - I had time to think about what the child said to me and react with genius, even though I was beyond irritated...

The child disagreed with something I'd done by yelling, "I want a new mommy!"


First, I recognized that I was bigger than she was and thought her fierce bravery for stepping to me that way. I admired her "umph" and new she either wanted to hurt my feeling (I only have one) or a new mommy (in her childish ignorance). I decided, it was a little of both and came at her with all the might my imagination could muster.

"Okay," I told her. "Go get your Buzz Lightyear suitcase because you'll need to move when you new mommy comes to get you." 

Not phased, she went to her room for her little tattered suitcase; I knew the fight was on and I would win or she'd have a new mommy.

When she came back down the hall with her empty suitcase, I had the newspaper opened to the classifieds section. I calmly explained the process... "When people want something new, they look it up in the classifieds in the newspaper. See, here is where you can buy new cars, and, here, new houses. Now I know there is a section for new mommies somewhere."

When I saw her eyebrows raise and her usually almond shaped eyes (she gets those from her father) grow wide, I knew I was winning. I could have stopped there, but I didn't.

"Look, I'll keep looking in the paper and you should go pack. Now, remember, once you get a new mommy you cannot come back to the old one. It's sad because I really love you and will miss you. Your dad and sister will miss you too. That's how it goes when you get a new mommy. 

Her walk back to her room didn't have as much pep.

After awhile, I yelled, "Are you packed? I think I see a few new mommies. Come look at this one. She sounds nice. Way nicer than me." When I got no answer, I took the paper in to show her the mommies I'd found.

I found her with an open but empty suitcase. Yes, I could have stopped there, but I didn't.

"Why haven't you packed anything? Don't you want to take...." I listed a bunch of things she should take along with her. I'm not sure if I actually but items into her suitcase before she started crying: "I don't want a new mommy!!!"

Yes, I could have stopped there, but I didn't. 

"I don't want you to have a new mommy. I like being your mommy. We do lots a fun things together don't we?" 

"Yeah" she sniffed.

"Really? Like what?" I ask. This is where we come back together and talk about what we like to do with each other, daddy, her sister, family, and friends.

"Just because we love each other and fun doesn't mean we like each other all the time. When we don't like each, it doesn't mean you can get a new mommy or I can get a new daughter. We have to figure it out."

Okay. That's most of what I remember and it was probably my oldest child because the younger one waits for her sister to take the lead on getting in my face.


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NOTES:
  • This parenting reaction works best on beginning readers.
  • Yes, I was prepared to find someone to stand as a "new" mommy.
  • My friends know - it takes a village to raise a child - and my request to find someone to pose a "new" mommy would only briefly surprise them.
  • Since newspapers are pretty much gone, you'll have adapt this for the online - which is cool because you could create a whole fake online shopping site for "new" mommies!
  • This whole deal took a couple of hours to get through!

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If I Believed in Spirits

22/8/2015

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If I believed in spirits, they wouldn’t haunt me. My spirits would surprise me with memories that overtake emotions and senses like unexpected smells, sounds, or images that spring up coincidentally in everyday living. 


If my mother were a spirit, she’d lure me to a friend’s home under the pretense of purchasing an old bike because that friend was moving out of town to work at her Dream Job and needs to get rid of her things quickly.



If my mother were a spirit, she’d make that friend’s name Amy. She would not have to do much to ensure my schedule was so hectic that getting Amy’s home would be a routine challenge, which would never lead me to expect I was going to be surprised (not haunted) by a spirit.

If my mother were a spirit, the day I arranged to pick up the bike, I’d be 40-minutes late and go to the wrong house. After a few text exchanges with Amy and complaints about how one street can be both NW and NE, my husband would see my growing frustration and offer to drive.

If my mother were a spirit, she’d make sure Amy had cute vintage suitcases and a travel case on her porch marked for donation.

If my mother were a spirit, she’d know I’d ask about them because I like odd items.

If my mother were a spirit, she’d have Amy say, “If you want them just take them. I have a few other cases on the side of the house. Want to see them?”

If my mother were a spirit, she’d have me say, “Yeah, I want to see them. The girls might like to have one too.”

Amy and I would walk down the stairs of her enclosed porch and onto the sidewalk, and, then around to her driveway where the other two travel cases were sitting.

The essence of every moment I’d ever experienced being Mutasha’s daughter swept across my soul and filled my eyes with tears of humble gratitude and thankfulness the instant I saw the green and tan travel case.

My mother had this exact travel case. She filled it with many items of personal value; I rummaged through it, often without permission. It smelled of Wind Song perfume.

If I believed in spirits, my mother would be a spirit and she would bring me the gift of a green and tan travel case. When I opened that case, I’d find these words inside it and wonder what more she wants to tell me. 


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