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October 2008
One New Year’s Eve when a blizzard swirled outside, I, feeling duty-bound, made the trek to the person’s snow-swept doorstep with the paper. The door swung open; the warmth of hearth and oven-doings greeted me. As I handed over the newspaper, I sensed how important the product was to the individual who had been waiting for it. It made me feel really good about what I do and the value of my service. I was reminded of this feeling recently when pondering another product denied — not the newspaper, but the learning and engagement children expect when The story I read was about a school district that was asking the state to allow it to stage a “TAKS holiday” — actually eight days spread across the year — for students who had passed the Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills. Those who hadn’t passed TAKS still would come For one thing, the proposal sent the message that all that mattered at that school district was passing TAKS. For another, it treated the classroom days of the high achievers as disposable. What do they This made me hurt. I’ve seen the hurt of students who really want to make the most of the learning experience and who feel disposable when minimum standards become the end-all. I remember the disgust expressed by my own children in high school, once they had passed TAKS, about being shuffled off to the side so the faculty could be on hand to monitor and administer the state test or to help those who still needed to pass. Part of the outrage was that they still had to be on campus. Their presence, of course, translated into precious state dollars. But not having a “TAKS holiday” wasn’t their grievance. They didn’t want a day off. They wanted to be learning. Really. We are led to believe that all children want the easy way out. Not true. Sure, every Texas child prays for a snow day. That’s about nature’s serendipity. That’s not about a state’s calculated decision to deprive them of something they were expecting to get — learning — and something they were expecting to deliver — effort. They want to be there. At least most do. They want to get to work. I remember once speaking to a first-period journalism class at a Central Texas high school. The school had Channel 1, the rotisserie of pseudo news and calculated merchandizing that buys its way into schools with TVs and satellite dishes. Instead of watching the televised intrusion that was barging into the start of the school day, I watched the students. They appeared impatient. They wanted to get to work. It was a sight that made me feel good about young people and about the enterprise of education. Like the appreciation for the newspaper I got to deliver, it was a revelation to see how much the students, motivated by a teacher they had grown to respect, were ready to get down to business as soon as interruptions ceased.
JOHN YOUNG is the opinion editor and a columnist for the Waco Tribune-Herald. He also is the author of “Ghosts of Liberals Past.” He can be reached at jyoung@wacotrib.com.
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When I was editor of a small daily newspaper in the Rockies (Alamosa, Colo.), I had occasion to hear from a reader who looked up my home phone number to tell me that the newspaper hadn’t arrived. Tending to the individual’s complaint might have sounded like an unwanted hassle; I was the editor, not the circulation manager. Instead, what happened when I delivered the man’s paper was a revelation.