Don't overturn the Blaine Amendment!

As a child, one of my favorite stories was Robin Hood because he took from the rich and gave to the poor. As a child of parents who struggled financially, I admired how Robin Hood was able to help those most in need. I often dreamt of someone helping my family like that.

Fast-forward to 2017, where I have a chance in Colorado to see the Robin Hood story play out, except in reverse. Vouchers. Yes, vouchers. A program that takes from the taxpayer and gives to the rich to send their children to expensive private schools. Who’s left out of vouchers? If you listen to voucher-supporters, no one. If you look at the realities of voucher programs, it’s those living in poverty.

The newest argument for vouchers is the belief the Blaine Amendment needs to be overturned within Colorado’s Constitution. The Blaine Amendment, passed in 1922, was anti-Catholic in origin. True. In Colorado today, it prevents the formation of a voucher program. Also true.

Education reformers and voucher supporters contend vouchers will give greater choice to parents, especially parents who wish to send their children to private school, like a Catholic school. The isn’t completely true.

First, in the Denver-Metro area, parents already have school choice—they can open enroll their children in any school that has room. I have open-enrolled my child in a different district, and it was our decision to make. But what if we have a $5000 voucher to put him in a Catholic high school?

Let’s say a local Catholic high school costs $13,000 a year in tuition. Simply tuition, not books, sports fees, school fees, etc. I take my voucher to the school, and miraculously, my child is admitted! Wait. Where will I find the extra $8000 or more it will take to keep my child there? Will the high school give my child a full scholarship to attend? My child doesn’t have extraordinary athletic gifts nor brilliant academic potential. How will I afford books and other fees?

Instead, vouchers take from public schools. Public schools are inadequately funded as it is, and vouchers will remove even more money from our students. Moreover, public schools work with all students, including students will learning, emotional, and physical disabilities. Taking money from public schools takes money from these students as well. The Blaine Amendment protects public schools from losing funds to private schools so public schools can still work with ALL students.

Another voucher concern is this: vouchers are supposed to go to ANY school. This means my homeschooling neighbor, who only graduated from high school, will get voucher money for a personal choice to keep her child home and educate him. How will our public money be used? Will private schools, homeschools, cooperative schools, and any other type of private school be held to the same standards as public schools? Will private schools be required to provide special services for students with special education needs? There seems to be no viable answers to these questions.

Vouchers are like Robin Hood, but in reverse. They take from the middle class and poor, and give to the rich. Realistically, only those who can afford private schools will be able to use vouchers. A student in the Five Points neighborhood who wants to attend a private Catholic high school and isn’t academically or athletically gifted or who has special needs will not be able to use voucher money.

Those who advocate for overturning the Blaine Amendment or for vouchers are disingenuous. They leave out the other aspects of this issue to promote their own agenda. The Blaine Amendment should NOT be overturned. It is the only way public school students are protected and provided a guaranteed and viable education.

Good-bye to a Good Man

It's been raining buckets tonight, a rather unusual event here in the semi-arid climate of Colorado. It doesn't seem to be slowing down either. Fitting, I guess, as one of the best priests I have known is dying.

Monsignor Leo Horrigan was pastor at our parish, Notre Dame, for a long time. In fact, we joined Notre Dame right after we married because we really enjoyed his homilies as well as the environment of the church. He was the rock of Notre Dame.

Monsignor Horrigan had a beautiful deep voice. Listening to him speak was a moving experience. Moreover, his homilies always seemed to be what I needed to hear when I needed to hear it. He knew how to balance his messages--time, length, connections to scripture, connections to our lives. I find it difficult to find meaning in many homilies, especially those that provide us CliffNotes of the Bible passages we've just read. Monsignor knew how to connect with his parishioners.

After our son was born, we wanted Monsignor to baptize him, but because Notre Dame--and Monsignor--were viewed as 'training ground' for newer priests, we weren't able to have him preside at our son's baptism. He was the presider, though, for our son's Holy Communion, and I treasure the picture I have of Monsignor giving the Host to our little boy.

When our son attended school there, Monsignor was present for school functions. He delighted in children, and his face showed it. He was all-smiles, whether it was conferences, field day, Mass day. It seemed like children gave him energy and joy.

Notre Dame felt like a second home to me, because of Monsignor Horrigan. His retirement was wonderful and well-deserved for him, but I cried all the way home. I was sorry to lose him. In the seven years since his retirement, Notre Dame changed in negative ways. So much so, we finally left and found another parish.

Monsignor Horrigan was everything a priest should be: humble, kind, compassionate, loving. He will be missed.

Teacher*Wife*Mother*Daughter: Teachers have nightmares

Teacher*Wife*Mother*Daughter: Teachers have nightmares: I was on a hike the other day with a friend, a retired teacher, who asked me if my nightmares had begun yet. See, I have nightmares several ...

Teachers have nightmares

I was on a hike the other day with a friend, a retired teacher, who asked me if my nightmares had begun yet. See, I have nightmares several nights a week before school starts again.

They're often typical control-issue nightmares, like I can't manage my class. No matter what  I do, student behavior is out of control. This is unlikely to happen in real life, but I have experienced some rough groups of kids, and the thought of not being able to control a class worries me.

Other nightmares involve me being at my school but it's not my school--but it is. I can't find my classroom. Seeing as how I've  been in the same classroom for 13 years, it's a silly nightmare. However, the stress I feel while dreaming it is real.

The worst nightmares involve school shootings. While I can't speak for my colleagues, I can unequivocally state that the numerous school shootings we've had in this country has profoundly affected me. When I was 13, my friend was shot and killed on our junior high's campus. I was there. I still feel anxious when Flight for Life flies over. Then there was the Jonesboro, AR shooting, where those boys pulled the fire alarm and executed students and a teacher as they left the building. Next was Columbine. I'm a Columbine graduate and I work about 4.5 miles from there; I still get panic attacks when the shooting comes up. I can't even walk in the building; I cry and panic. Then there was Bailey, a few miles away from my school. And then there was another shooting at my junior high just a few years ago. And I'll never forget the Arapahoe  HS shooting where the young man was headed into the building to kill his debate teacher; instead, he killed an innocent young woman and himself.

Needless to say, I worry about angering a student to the point where he wants to kill me. Therefore,  I dream about being hunted through the school halls. I dream about school shootings. I worry this will be the year someone will shoot up our school.

I'm not sure how to work with my mind to alleviate this stress. But I do know that I will have nightmares from now until school begins.

Overloaded

School has ended, and I'm now on summer break. "Must be nice to have summers off" teachers often hear from non-teachers. I personally never quite know how to respond. If I say, "Yes, it is," I might sound defensive. If I say, "Well, I earned it," that sounds like bragging. But the reality is this: the general public thinks KIDS should have summers off, but they don't seem to feel adults should as well.

It IS nice to have put aside enough money to rest for a couple of months. There's a misconception that teachers are paid for their time off. Not true. Our ten-month paychecks are divided over twelve months. I have earned that money. Teaching takes a toll on bodies and minds it's hard to articulate what it's like to teach for a year.. I love my work and my students, but I need a break. Imagine if more Americans were given the opportunity to take one to two months off from work, what would their productivity be like?

I understand that my colleagues  work second and/or third jobs for 'extra money,' especially during the summer. I think it's a shame, but having done it myself, I know it's necessary because everything is expensive and our salaries don't always provide for necessities.

I love my students and my work. I love watching their faces glow with knowledge when they realize something or dance when they ace an essay. I love working with them to help them understand a concept or a novel. I appreciate their confidence in me for their letters of recommendation or simply to just talk about their anxieties, goals, happiness...whatever. When I try to sleep at night, they intrude into my thoughts. I worry about their grades, their home lives, them. They are on my mind when it's the weekend. They are on my mind over our short breaks throughout the year.

Teaching youth is an amazing profession. Not everyone can do it or should do it. Teachers have the capacity to lift up or destroy a child. It's an awesome responsibility. But it takes a toll. There is a level of exhaustion teachers have at the end of the year that is difficult to describe. Even the hairs on my head are tired.

So when people say in their snarky way, "Must be nice to have summers off," my response is now, "Yes, it is." And smile.

Lianne

The name of a girl I once knew has haunted me recently, so I decided to look her up and see how she is. I'd known Lianne from junior high and high school, and I had always admired her sunny disposition, thick blonde hair, and personality. After high school, we worked together at Round the Corner Restaurant, and she was one of the reasons I decided to work there. She was kind, friendly, and caring. And she even seemed to care about me.

As with any job, after-work parties happened. There was always plenty of alcohol and drugs, none of which I really touched. Especially the drugs. In sixth grade, a Burbank police officer came to my class with his bag of drug paraphernalia and explained to us how each was used and its effect. He scared me straight.

That doesn't mean I wasn't tempted, as were most of us who didn't participate in drug use, but the druggies we hung around were mostly respectful about our choice. They would offer; I would refuse; they'd make sure I was sure. I was sure. And off they'd go to do their thing. After a rough day at work, it was hard to say no to something that would help mellow me out, and there were times when I was tempted.

So what about Lianne? Well, Lianne's parents were alcoholics, and although Lianne drank (we were legal to drink at 18), she avoided drugs as well. Until one night when she didn't. I remember trying to talk her out of smoking weed, but I knew it was ultimately her decision.

I firmly believe addiction is a genetic disorder, and when faced with something addictive, like marijuana or alcohol, those with the addiction gene are affected negatively. I've watched too many people "try" marijuana, only to find themselves craving it. Craving any high, really. Lianne chose drugs and lost her boyfriend. Ultimately, I think she lost more than her boyfriend.

In fact, after she left Round the Corner, I only heard about her from others. She was partying all the time, using drugs, getting drunk. The last time I saw her, in the early 1990s at the Scottish festival, she was wasted, slurring her words, making no sense. I felt both pity and disgust at the time.

So what happened when I looked her up the other night? I found her obituary. She died six years ago. I was shocked. I also found a YouTube video her sister put together of Lianne's life, which I've watched a couple of times. I was profoundly shocked at the physical changes in her. Granted, none of us remains young forever, but I had a hard time figuring out which was Lianne in some of the pictures. She had aged considerably in the years since I had last seen her. I would not have recognized her on the street.

Stoners tout the greatness of their drugs and how they feel while on drugs, but they neglect to mention other factors. The search for a better high causes risky behavior, for example. One night, at the same party actually, some guys we didn't know sold pot to some of my friends. After smoking it, they began to freak out and run around screaming. Why? The pot was laced with LSD.

Stoners tout the belief that marijuana isn't addictive, but I feel if a person comes from a family of addicts, whether it's alcohol or drugs, they will get addicted. And while stoners say that marijuana is not a gateway drug, explain to me how recovering addicts started their addictions. Most recovering addicts I've met began with pot.

And finally, frequent drug and alcohol use will result in physical changes. Like Lianne. Like every person I've ever known who was caught in the vicious cycle of addiction. Broken blood vessels, yellowy eyes, weight gain or loss, brittle hair...

Lianne isn't my first friend to die because of drugs. Another friend, someone I had known in and met again in Colorado, died in a drug-lab fire in 2001. She was 32 years old. Lianne was 43.

I'm sure some of my sixth grade classmates were intrigued by drugs during the police officer's presentation, but he scared me badly. I don't regret my decision to remain drug-free, as hard as it was to uphold.