May Day!

Yesterday was May 1, a celebratory day for a variety of reasons in many countries around the world. So, it should come as no particular surprise that yesterday was a certifiably remarkable day here as well. I’m not talking here about the international labor movement, Maypoles, or rituals of pagan origin (well, maybe that last one, sort of). I’m actually talking about an amazing day of celebrations signaling the stunning progress of LGBTQ rights.

First, as many of you know, yesterday was the day when civil unions became legal in Colorado. The event featured parties of all sorts around the state, with some—like Boulder’s—beginning Monday evening, well before the magical midnight moment and extending on into the bleary-eyed hours of May 1. Although my partner and I didn’t get “unionized” (or, as someone said, “civilized”), we went anyway to witness this momentous beginning, as did scores of other folks who weren’t entering into unions. Out Boulder, who coordinated the party, managed to turn a gaggle of people gathered into a functionally bland room into a joyful community festival—lots of cake decorated with rainbow flags, lots of munchies, lots of excited chatter, lots of roses, lots of dancing to tunes set up by a local DJ. And lots of people. Couples, of course, and also whole families, groups of friends, whole “wedding” parties who came to celebrate this moment in the lives of folks they love. All in this big, beige room in the county clerk’s office building.

I didn’t get to actually see anyone go through the interview and sign the document registering their relationship as “real” before the law. But a friend who did said it gave her goose bumps. I believe it. When same-sex marriage became legal in Massachusetts, where we were living at the time, I blogged from the courthouse in Northampton and had the same experience. The officials performing these administrative formalities were anything but perfunctory as they welcomed each couple. In fact, they were so happy, so gentle and respectful toward the couples who came in that it brought tears to my eyes. That moment is hard to describe, the moment when you get to be present as relationships that have been largely invisible and totally discounted, sometimes for decades, are finally acknowledged as authentic in the eyes of the state.

After welcoming May 1 at this midnight gala, I then spent a piece of the afternoon at a middle school assembly—which, perhaps surprisingly (it was middle school, after all), continued the same theme. Here’s the story: A few years ago, the librarian at Manhattan Middle School decided she needed to be more active as an ally to LGBT folks—especially LGBTQ kids. So she devised some strategies to get LGBT-themed books to kids without their needing to check them out (and thereby reveal what might be seen as forbidden curiosity). Gradually, she also began to do other things—speaking gigs, working with Boulder Valley Safe Schools Coalition, and founding an allies club. That club, which started as a small group of kids, now has over 100 members.

For the past two years, the club has organized a diversity assembly focusing on LGBT issues. This year, the theme was taken from Gandhi: “Be the change.” The assembly included brief, one-sentence testimonials from several club members (“I’m an ally because …”), music from two local LGBTQ-affiliated choruses, and a rap performance by the allies club based on a video about Gandhi. The event wrapped up with lots of incredible food and chat time with the performers, some of the kids, some school personnel, and audience members, who included the superintendent of the Boulder Valley School District, several school board members and staff, and assorted community activists.

Afterward, driving home, I was thinking about the day and the pace of change it represented. I grew up before Stonewall—which is to say, before the contemporary LGBTQ-rights movement was even launched. I hid out for decades out of fear, some of it realistic and some goblin-generated. Then things began to change—slowly, it seemed, frustratingly slowly. Yet now, here I am, living in a world where same-sex couples are granted the legal rights and responsibilities of marriage and where middle school kids (that’s middle school kids!) take visible, active, and vociferous stands on behalf of LGBTQ rights. And they do it with the active support of allies who include librarians, teachers, and school superintendents. All within my adult lifetime. Not, it turns out, so slow at all. And I get to witness all of this, all on one lovely day in May.

Out Boulder’s ED said it so well in her comments at the civil unions celebration: There’s still a long way to go, a lot of work to be done. Much more than just full marriage rights. There’s work to be done on trans* issues, work on divisions within our own community, work on the lingering (and recently increasing) incidence of HIV/AIDS, work on poverty and poor health care, on bullying, on immigration rights and parenting rights, on lingering discrimination in employment and housing, on the high rates of smoking and alcohol abuse in our communities. There’s plenty left to do. But this May Day, it was time to dance with a DJ, rap with Gandhi, and eat cake with rainbow icing.

As I write this, I find myself regretting that I don’t have any pictures of these great events to share with you. So to make up for it, let me share some photos of yesterday’s other big event: our May Day snowstorm! 

Here's the view outside my bedroom window this morning

        

         

followed by scenes in my yard and bunny prints outside the coffee shop window .

      

         

                              

Snow in April—even tons of snow—was a bit unusual, but still tolerable. But May? Boulder got a foot of snow on Wednesday, obliterating the former 6-inch record for the date.

I figure it was Nature’s way of celebrating May Day and all the glorious joy it held.

A chance to channel Margaret Mead

During the past week, I’ve attended two public meetings about the proposed Boulder Valley School District (BVSD) budget for the coming year. I don’t have a child in the schools—except insofar as we all do. So why was I there? First, because I’m an avid supporter of public education. We all have a stake in quality education for children, both for the sake of the kids themselves and because the future depends on it. And second, because I was outraged by this budget proposal.

As you may have heard or read in the newspaper, BVSD is facing the same sort of dilemma that many school districts are facing: so much to do, so little money to do it. In response to this dilemma, BVSD’s new-this-year superintendent, Dr. Bruce Messinger, has proposed a budget that, predictably and somewhat understandably, slashes programs to cover this deficit. What’s so very troubling is that the programs threatened with the deepest cuts are literacy programs and support for Title I schools, the schools that serve disadvantaged kids. In short, it appears that the budget is being balanced, as some have said, “on the backs of the neediest children.”

I am horrified and furious about this proposal. So I went to some meetings to listen and to speak my piece.

At these meetings and others, lots of folks, mostly parents and teachers, have spoken against this proposal, arguing from personal experience, from hard data, and from their hearts [read about some of these comments here and here]. I heard a woman who served for many years as a teacher and administrator in BVSD say that when she learned of this proposal, her first response was shame. She was ashamed that her beloved school district was considering a proposal that specifically and explicitly slashes funds for programs that serve kids who are already marginalized. Some parents were near tears as they described how these programs had helped their kids or other kids they knew and what they fear will be lost if these programs are cut. Teachers pleaded for reconsideration, describing case after case of individual children and whole schools that had turned around because of these programs. One mother, who moved here from New Orleans, begged that this moment not become her child’s next Katrina, where people she trust fail her, again.

The rationale for these cuts goes something like this: BVSD is doing a “reset.” The plan is to cut all “extra” programs until all schools have equal funding and then decide what’s worth restoring. Sort of like resetting the computer to factory settings and then reconsidering which programs to reinstall. 

I have three problems with this plan, all interrelated. First, we’re talking about children, families, and teachers here, not hardware and software. Ending educational programs, even if some are later reinstated, leaves at least some kids high and dry, some teachers without jobs, some families without the support systems they rely on for their kids. It leaves real people lost in the gap between what was and what might (or might not) be "reinstalled." You just can’t do that to children, their families, and their teachers and expect everything to “reset” on cue.

Second, based on my training in developmental psychology, one thing I know for sure is that children are sponges. They learn all sorts of things from the world around them, whether or not we intend for them to. For instance, they learn about the social world—about who belongs to which category (teacher vs. pupil, girl vs. boy, white vs. person of color, rich vs. poor, etc.), about who “should” like whom, and about how those groups rank in their particular social environment. In short, they learn about who is valued and who is not. And the lessons that they learn early on—not so much through direct teaching as through osmosis, just by watching and listening—are remarkably lasting. In part, they’re lasting precisely because they’re learned that way; they sort of get into your cells. So I’m thinking about what children might learn from cuts like these.

The third part is the issue of equity. I've mentioned before my involvement with the Boulder Valley Safe Schools Coalition, which works to make the schools welcoming and supportive for LGBT students, parents, and staff. But my commitment to equity extends far beyond LGBT issues and includes all marginalized groups. There are many differences among the groups who stand outside the mainstream for one reason or another. But there is stark similarity in the means by which those groups are kept out. Institutional structures that fail to recognize the distinctive needs of particular groups are among the most powerful—and often insidious—of those means.

The tagline on the BVSD logo is “Excellence and Equity.” I am stunned by the total absence of any concern for equity here. I learned long ago that “equitable” does not mean “identical.” A simple “reset” that makes all schools “equal” (i.e., identical) does not constitute an equitable adjustment. If we offer all children identical resources, we are unavoidably mistreating many of them. The reality is that poor kids, kids of color, kids whose second language is English, kids with learning deficits have distinctive needs, and these needs demand differential programming—equitable programming that recognizes their particular strengths and challenges. Some reassurances are now emerging that some of these programs will be reinstated … at least in part. But the “improved” funding for literacy programs is still about half what it was last year. And I still insist that is not OK. In his response to some of these critiques, Dr. Messinger even acknowledged that it is not OK, but (I imagined a shrug), there it is. As if meeting the needs of half of these kids or meeting them half as well would just have to do. 

I repeat, the tagline is “Excellence and Equity.” The two are inseparable. Our treatment of people is part of children's education, just as the formal curriculum is. When we diminish precisely those programs that serve this particular set of children, we teach all children something: equity matters until there’s a budget crunch; then, not so much. 

To these particular children and their families, we’re saying, “When push comes to shove, when budgets come to the bottom line, your needs are expendable.” How else can they understand the fact that the proposed cuts slice away at programming intended to help them succeed in school—and, I might add, in life? And to everyone else—including the kids and the adults who may seem to be unaffected by these cuts—we’re saying, “When the going gets rough, you can just look the other way. As long as you are personally safe, it’s not your worry.” What an awful lesson for our schools to teach us.

I’m not totally oblivious to the budgetary dilemmas facing BVSD. Finding the money to continue providing excellent education and also to reimburse teachers at an honorable level is a daunting task. I don’t pretend to know the details of that process or the answers to those dilemmas. However, I find it impossible to believe that no better options can be found to balance the budget than to cut programs that serve the students who most need BVSD’s full support.

So, I have to wonder why these particular programs were targeted. Here is my (no longer secret) fear: The children who are directly hurt by cuts like these represent families and communities who make up a relatively small, mostly invisible, and not very powerful portion of the BVSD community. My fear is that these are simply the “easiest” places to cut, the “low-hanging fruit,” precisely because the groups most greatly impacted are less visible, less powerful, and less outspoken than other groups might be.

The budget shortfall is around 2% of BVSD’s overall budget. There simply have to be better ways to deal with this than selectively cutting these particular programs. How about cutting funding for interscholastic athletics? How about reconsidering the administrative structure? How about an across-the-board 2% cut in all programs?

I honestly don’t know the answers. But a lot of folks are working on this budget, and they all serve at the pleasure of the public. Enough noise from “out here” may just echo enough “in there” to trigger some re-examination of priorities. Of what this community stands for—or hopes to stand for. Of the meaning of “Excellence and Equity.”

Please add your voice to the mix. Email the BVSD school board, email Dr. Messinger, write a letter to the Daily Camera. While you're at it, write to your state representatives and senators, since part of the problem is that Colorado’s state funding for education is pitifully low (use this interactive map to find them). Help make some noise. We may or may not change what they do, but we can sure make them aware that this particular approach is not all right with us. Heck, maybe it will make a difference. As Margaret Mead famously said,

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed individuals can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.