When I reached college age, I had good grades and a so-so SAT. But, I never had any doubts about being able to go to college ... that's the way it used to be in America. If you could do the work, you could get into college. I didn't start to shine until graduate school. Now I have a Ph.D., but today, I probably wouldn't be able to get into college with my high school record .... or lack of one.
Is this what we want in America. Do you know where all the seats in college are going to ... foreigners who are willing to pay more for them. Now, I don't mind them taking the seats. But, let's make more seats and assure that all Americans that can do college level work get the chance.
Guess what, global competition is fixing to put the hurt on Americans. We need to start fighting back by addressing what matters .... the education of our children is on the top of this list. We either arm our children our watch them die ... not physically, just their standard of living and their general well being. Jehovah's Bush's concept of "no child left behind" is a good one. However, just saying the phrase does not make it so.
Do you care?
Do you believe everyone on our planet is our brother? If so, how do we make laws and policies that help our brother? How do we need to change our thinking to lift the boats of all brothers?
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Just a Trip South and An Old House
Yesterday, I took a business trip two hours south. Traffic stopped at one point on the high way and I looked to my right at an old two story colonial house on a few acres in Maryland. Old is the key work. Not in great shape but okay. I thought to myself, wow, there has been a lot of living in that house. Lovers, children, heataches, crying, laughing, dying. All in those rooms. I could live there.
On the way home, four hours later, I looked at the same house. It had burned down. It was all black. It was still standing like a shadow of the lifes, dreams and stories that once had filled her rooms.
Lots of people, stopped in their cars and gathered on the street looked at that old house. But, me and that old house had lived a little together. We had taken a journey through time with each other. He had held hands and stared into each others eyes. We had dreamed and wanted more. The rest of the people gathered round, had only chased an ambulance, attended a funeral, but they had never even had a moment with her. Some how, she must of know that I cared. I cared about happened in her walls and in the craddle of her arms in the warmth of her wooden embrace.
I drove on wondering what good fortune had allowed the traffic to stop those long moments and allow me to spend a few minutes with her on her last day.
On the way home, four hours later, I looked at the same house. It had burned down. It was all black. It was still standing like a shadow of the lifes, dreams and stories that once had filled her rooms.
Lots of people, stopped in their cars and gathered on the street looked at that old house. But, me and that old house had lived a little together. We had taken a journey through time with each other. He had held hands and stared into each others eyes. We had dreamed and wanted more. The rest of the people gathered round, had only chased an ambulance, attended a funeral, but they had never even had a moment with her. Some how, she must of know that I cared. I cared about happened in her walls and in the craddle of her arms in the warmth of her wooden embrace.
I drove on wondering what good fortune had allowed the traffic to stop those long moments and allow me to spend a few minutes with her on her last day.
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