Three Cups of Tea

I had the opportunity of hearing Greg Mortenson speak the other day.

He is the inspiration for the book Three Cups of Tea ~ must reading for educators, policy makers and anyone who cares about girls, south Central Asia and just about anything else under the sky (the book is co-authored by David Oliver Relin)

Greg's own story is compelling but his vision is extraordinary.

The son of American missionaries living in Tanzania (his mother helped found the International School of Moshi) ~ Greg served in the US military and went on to become a nurse. His avocation is mountain climbing. In 1993 Mortenson unsuccessfully attempted to climb K2, the world's second tallest mountain. He attempted the climb in honor of his younger sister who had died earlier. Dangerously ill and lost when descending, Mortenson was sheltered for several weeks by the small Pakistani village of Korphe; in return, he promised to build the impoverished town's first school. After an astonishing series of setbacks ~ he succeeded.

That remarkable success has grown into the Central Asia Institute. Today he has constructed more than 50 schools across rural Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Along the way, Mortenson has faced down tradition, ignorance, disease, bureaucrats, the mujahideen, the Taliban and every other conceivable roadblock. Yet ~ he prevails.

Mortenson is an advocate of girls’ education as one of the major solutions to bringing economic development, peace and prosperity to impoverished societies, and says, "you can hand out condoms, drop bombs, build roads, or put in electricity, but until the girls are educated a society won’t change".

I’m not doing his story justice in a few paragraphs but Three Cups of Tea is worthy of your reading list ~~ soon.

March: Ides, Mayhem and Madness

The Ancients had their Ides of March and the Moderns (here in America, at least) have their Mayhem of March ~ better known as March Madness ~ or the end of season college basketball tournament.

There must be 15,000,000 other bloggers and legit media writers commenting on the basketball tournament but it worth a few words here on The Clermont.

64 teams get to participate in the “big dance” as it is called. These teams are from large universities, small colleges, urban and rural settings, private and public. The chosen make the tournament by virtue of winning their own conference championships or are invited by the Selection Committee based on a winning record and playing against strong opponents. In theory, any team has a chance. We are half way through this week and from the original 64 only the “sweet 16” remain. You win and you advance ~ you lose and you go home. Tennis anyone?

The sweet 16 have mostly big boys (example ~ the University of Texas = 49,500 students) but a few cinderella hopefuls (example ~Davidson = 1,700 students). This is what makes the competition so compelling. Davidson? with a student body of only 1,700?

Basketball aficionado's engage in what's called bracketology ~ trying to figure out whose going to make it to the sweet 16 ~ the elite 8 ~ the final 4 ~ and then ~ the champion! The 64 teams are placed into four brackets and move up or out.

Here are two good books I recommend on this remarkable event:

A March to Madness: A View from the Floor in the Atlantic Coast Conference ... and... Last Dance: Behind the Scenes at the Final Four... both by John Feinstein

How March Became Madness by Eddie Einhorn

Please don't phone on Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday. Thanks.

King of Belgium

The King of Belgium can sleep tonight. His country has been saved. It has a new government and won’t be chopped in two. For now, at least.

That’s right ~ Belgium ~ the European country. Yes, the small one that’s about the size of the state of Maryland.

This might not be the biggest story of the day ~ in fact it was buried deep in yesterday’s New York Times ~ but if you read the Clermont Blogger, you’ll know that Belgium has survived another major crisis. Here’s what I wrote in November in the post “Bye, Bye Belgium” ~

What's happening? Well, nothing new really for this unhappy bilingual nation except the problems are getting worse. The linguistic and culture divide (Dutch Flanders in the north and French Wallonia in the south) means separate schools, churches and media. Apparently, the important local parliamentary elections last June were inconclusive so... oops... there is no federal government. Now people on both side of the linguistic divide want to go their own way.

How long will this new government last? Apparently, a Brussels poll indicated that the incoming Prime Minister (a comprise nominee among five political parties ~ five!) had barely a 50% approval rating. Good luck, Pierre. Or was it Pieter?

Not to worry ~ I’ll check things out in person as I’ll be there in a few weeks.

Don't get me wrong about Belgium. There’s nothing like a plate of pommes frites avec mayonnaise and a cold Stella Artois [or Heineken in Flanders ... for impartiality].

I’d hate to be turned away next month from a local restaurant for Belgium bashing.

Play Ball!

Growing up in chilly New England ~ the first signs of spring ~ would come flicking across my parents grainy black and white TV set.

Each evening, while the snow was still deep in Massachusetts, a reporter from the local station would be on the air from exotic Sarasota, Florida where the Boston Red Sox would do their stretches and practice bunting. It was time for spring training. Play ball was the cry!

My cousin’s husband Ralph ~ a traveling salesman type ~ managed to get to Florida each March and would send us postcards of white beaches, orange groves and palm trees. This was long before Disney World, Cape Canaveral and Jet-Blue. Ralph might as well have been on the moon. He’d always scribble a message about his being happy to be back watching the Grapefruit League in action. On TV the lucky reporter would be talking about Ted Williams and the sunny weather.

My Dad and I would just sigh and listen to the wind blow outside.

Although I now live in Florida ~ and many a season has passed ~ it is still a happy ritual to see some baseball during spring training. So there I was yesterday sitting next to a couple who had just flown in from Mineota, Minnesota. I think that’s what they said. Their teeth were still chattering and they had lines on their foreheads ~ from ski caps or earflaps or whatever. They kept staring into the sun.

The game itself was inconsequential but the bats were cracking and players were punching their gloves. In the eighth inning, the right fielder ran down a 300 foot shot by the warning path and pulled it in. His momentum took him to the railing by the stands where he tossed the ball into the waiting hands of a young boy.

Timeless.

Everyone is going to China

When we left off last month [17-2-08], international school Heads were out on the teacher recruitment trail. February is the peak of the semester long hunt for new staff.

It’s tough work. Demand is greater than supply and you know what that means.

This is what one of my acquaintances wrote in an email the other day:

Recruitment was difficult this year for the school…we still have 6 positions to fill including physics and calculus… everyone is going to China

This is from a person who leads a school in a stable, American-centric, more-or-less friendly country where there is a decent standard of living. It’s not a hardship post.

For the uninitiated, six positions to fill between now and August might not seem like such a challenge. However, the operative word is "still". My guess is the Head has already filled 10-15 positions (now there’s some work) so an outstanding balance of six is significant, if not daunting.

This experienced school Head knows that she has a long spring ahead trying to find qualified candidates ~ made even more difficult because some are in the always-hard-to-get areas of math and science.

Yes, everyone is going to China ~ and to a slightly lesser degree the Middle East ~ where new international schools are popping up all over. This may be good news for international trade and commerce but it makes it a real challenge for those who have to staff the schools.

Alas, there are still a few more recruitment fairs in the spring. But the pressure is on to fill those vacancies…

Cat in Dog House

Harley, my daughter’s scary black cat, is in the family dog house.

In other words … he’s in trouble ... again.

Cats are mercurial. For example, humans are either awake or asleep. There is no in between state. But cats go back and forth in a special feline zen zone.

I was just talking to Harley the other morning. I was describing the previous night’s college basketball game on ESPN. Harley was listening attentively ... so I thought. In the middle of my animated narrative (the game went into overtime), he purred… blinked his eyes… and fell asleep. Maybe basketball isn’t his sport.

This time of year Harley likes to meander onto the deck to take in the warm sunshine. He also watches the golfers slice their shots into the lake on the tricky 10th hole by our condo. As a result, he’s probably the only cat who knows the F-word.

Out on the deck there are half a dozen plants. Lovely flowering things grouped together that are pleasing to look at. However, Harley sees this as his personal jungle. He goes on forays for bugs. Last evening he must have gotten into a brawl with the insects. Two of the plants (pretty reds and blues) are now broken. My wife is not pleased as this is her garden. As a result he’s in proverbial the dog house.

Harley is restricted to the guest bedroom where he has his food and water. 12 hours alone to contemplate a little discipline. This is kind of funny because Harley is like a bad 6th grade boy. Discipline? What’s that?

When he is out of the dog house tomorrow, it will be just another cat day. A little sleep here and there and then back to the jungle to kill a few more bugs.

Is Money the Best Teacher?

The New York Times ran an interesting article yesterday about a new charter school which will open in Manhattan in 2009 with starting salaries for teachers in the range of $125,000. Wow.

The founder of the school is betting that money will do the trick.

He’ll add bonuses for those who produce results. He expects to recruit the “best and brightest” teachers. The school will have few administrators, only two social workers and a core curriculum with no frills.

To earn these big bucks, teachers will carry a heavy instructional load with class sizes at 30 students. They’ll have clerical and disciplinary responsibilities. It should be noted that this will be a middle school. Hmm.

This is a brave step forward in terms of remuneration and compensation. However, I’m personally doubtful if super salaries are the answer to raising the quality of education provided at a school. Here’s what I’ve experienced and what you often find in good international schools:

Teachers do need to be compensated as aggressively as the market will bear.

New or experienced, teachers need sustained professional development.

New or experienced, teachers will tell you that size does matter: the number of students in a class ideally should not exceed 22

Supportive and cooperative parents play a big role in the success formula

Technology will help – not hinder – the learning process but teachers need to know how to engage 21st century practices using the big T.

Educational leadership plays a key role in creating a positive learning environment in any school.

Good luck to this new enterprise and the teachers who will work there. They’ll deserve every dollar they earn. Interestingly, as of this morning there were 375 comments on the article. Everyone has an opinion when it comes to the subject of education.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/07/nyregion/07charter.html

San Pedro Sula in 3.6 hours

Schools in Central America start the day early. This practice has something to do with proximity to the equator and Mother Nature’s precise if monotonous balance of light and darkness ~ in 12 hour cycles of each.

So there I was saying hello to everyone at the Monday morning assembly at 6:45 a.m.

Si ~ 6:45 a.m.!

In front of me are 800 students in straight rows ~ and looking sleepy in their tidy uniforms. Never mind, a peppy little speech and then to the Headmaster’s office for a cup of much needed coffee.

San Pedro Sula is the commercial center of Northern Honduras (from whence the coffee came, I was assured). The flight over from Miami the other evening was a decent two hours and get this ~ on time!

Coming in over the water ~ very close to the fabled Mosquito Coast just to the south ~ you can see miles of banana plantations. The old United Fruit Company and the still-going-strong-Dole Corp. run pineapple plantations and banana farms here.

I read in a professional journal recently that Dole operates two bilingual schools for its expatriate employees. However, I’m at another bilingual school this week ~ one of many up and down the spine of Central America. Alas, it is a brief visit (hence the 3.6 hours in the post title).

And then its back to the airport before the sun is up. Miraculously, there are few passengers this morning. How can this be? SAP ~ the local airport code ~ has only four gates and there is a plane at each.

The electronic departure screen is not working and a man is carefully sticking small letters and numbers onto an announcement board by Gate 3. He is short with brown skin and wears blue overalls. The name on his shirt says Jorge. I’m impressed at his effort to post all the details in English and Spanish. How efficient.

Oops ~ not quite right. We are now going to “Mayami”. Close enough, I guess. He gets an A for effort in my book.

It doesn’t matter. A few minutes later we’re called through Gate 1 ~ destination Panama City ~ says the handwritten notice.

The Swamp Cabbage Festival

The old maxim ~ it takes house guests to get you out and about ~ held true for us last weekend.

Floridians have plenty of visitors this time of year. Actually it’s like a stampede as friends, relatives, old classmates, former colleagues and didn’t-we-once-meet-acquaintances, flee the frigid weather across the northern part of the country for the warm southern climes.

Nice to see you again, they say. Where’s the pool?

Despite the mild cynicism it is good to see people ~ even if all the visiting is squeezed into 10 or 15 weeks (why don’t people come in September at the height of hurricane season, I wonder)?

So there we were last Saturday with a visitor off to the Swamp Cabbage Festival up near the Caloosahatchee River. We missed the Mullet Festival in January and I won’t be here in April for the Orchid/Bromeliad Fair. Lot’s of choices.

This event had something for everyone. There were classic cars, motorcycles, a bluegrass band, a Swamp Cabbage festival beauty queen and arts and crafts including some nice jewelry from the indigenous Seminole Indians.

Most curious of all there were armadillo races ~ “gentlemen start your 'dillos” the announcer said ~ with proceeds going to the local schools. How do you handicap an armadillo race, by the way?

… and the food. Of course swamp cabbage itself (didn't you know?) is the heart of sabal palm ~ not dissimilar to the normal heart of palm you’d buy in the store. It comes served either as a mushy stew or as fritters just out of the deep fry. Tired of palms?

The alligator fritters (from the tail) are very, very deep fried. I passed.

Best dish of all? The blooming onion which consists of one huge vidalia onion ~ deep fried, of course ~ which is cut to resemble a flower. These monsters are usually served on a large paper plate garnished with dipping sauce in a cup.

Visiting us next winter? Leave the trans-fat counter at home.