Off Topic: a plan for the future to have a future

As a retired educator I often run across items that give me hope for the children in our school system.  This video raises some very important questions about the influences in children’s learning capability.

Surprisingly, it is not only the child, or the teacher who are responsible for their success.

It is the parent…

With that in mind I share with you a video that was introduced to me on Angela Grant’s blog site, she calls: Failure to Listen.  The video is entitled:

Plan for the Future to have a Future | A Theory of Change (video from Harvard)

After watching , you may agree or disagree with the theory and the recommendations posited.  However, I urge everyone to watch, to think, and to consider, that the children in our current system are our future.  Children learn what they see at home, they emulate their parents, for good or ill, and the lifestyle modeled is often self-perpetuating.

My questions to you are:

  • Can we break the cycle?
  • Is it society’s job to step up and step in?
  • Do you believe that interventions of this type will even work?
  • If not, do you have a different idea about what to do?

Speak up, speak out, and share your thoughts.

Daily Prompt: Dear Mom

Today’s prompt from The Daily Post, asks me to write a letter to my mother telling her something I’ve always wanted to say, but wasn’t able to.

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Dear Mom,

My best memories of our time together are from when I was little.  You seemed so happy and carefree  then.  Little vignettes from those early days will come to me now and again, and I wish that I could tell you how much I loved our shared time together. 

If you were here now I would tell you I loved you for making me finger puppets.  I remember sitting in the little kitchen, watching in wonder as you penciled lovely ladies on cardboard.  When finished, you would carefully cut them out, adding finger holes for the legs.  Then placing the beauties on our hands they would come to life as we sang and danced them about the surface of the table.

I loved sitting next to you as you *read  the Sunday funnies to me.  That time together  fostered my life long love of reading, and remains a valuable and cherished gift.

I remember your anger at Christmas, when you gave me money to buy presents for the boys,  and I spent it on a Barbie for me.  You never forgave me in words, but the detail put into the wardrobe you created for that ill gained doll spoke volumes.  How many nights did you stay up late to create an azure silk gown with a real mink stole, and the other delights to adorn my doll?  Your forgiveness was surely evident in the many hand sewn details you added to each outfit. 

Each memory of  your sharing, of your creative ways with me,  echos…”I loved you.”   Did you know how much it meant to me then,  what it means to me as an adult?  Did I ever say how much I cared? 

I wish I could tell you now.

Lynda

~*~

*It would be many years later that I would discover that my mother was illiterate.  It was a poignant surprise, which I have shared HERE

 

I have another blog. I haven’t shared it before today, but today’s writing prompt, *Childhood Revisited, seemed to fit best on the other side.  The stories I share are from memory, and sometimes will be raw and brutally honest. Everyone has a past. This one is mine.
* http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/12/08/daily-prompt-childhood-revisited/

 

People I used to know

Why do very old memories lose their color over time?  They seem to fade like early snapshots from an old Brownie box camera, and yet, even lacking color they do not lose their emotion.

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Standing there, holding onto the coffee table for balance, she looks to the front door of the apartment they live in.  There is a couch behind her and in front of the coffee table there is a reading chair by the window.  Though tiny of stature she can sense that the room is small.

Then the door opens, and there is her father filling the space of the door frame.  As he walks in he smiles and looks down at her.  Dressed in creased and pressed military slacks and a white undershirt, he wears his cap folded flat and tucked in at the waist.  She notices there is something on his shoulder.  Reaching up to…

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