Obesity is becoming more and more common, and especially among the poor. This promises to eviscerate the quality of life of people who otherwise could be expected to thrive. This is not a situation where the solution can come from government doing for people what they can not do for themselves. Rather, people, individuals and families, will have to change their own lifestyles from what is prevalent today.
If we are going to continue to share the risk of illness across a greater community, then the incidence of the co-morbidities of obesity must be much lower than what they portend to be, looking at current trends. Failure to improve our nation’s health will undermine radically the extent to which the public can provide healthcare to those without the means to acquire these services on their own.
Simply continuing to provide aid to low or no income people without seeing improvement in their health status is unsustainable. The gravitation to a society where people in good health contribute all of their resources to prop up those in failing health is not likely to proceed long on this path before upheaval undoes the connection between the haves and have-nots.
It is time to require those who receive health coverage from the state to comply with interventions to reduce childhood obesity. We can not afford to take on responsibility for a demographic train wreck, and why would we want to try? Compassion alone should motivate us to put in place requirements that are in obvious need, and absent of which widespread catastrophe can be expected.
Mere objection to change will not prevent changes from occurring. Given the unsustainablility of the status quo with respect to aid to the poor, change is not only in order, it is inevitable. We can actively alter our course, or allow things to drift in high seas towards a rocky shore. And no one is isolated from the ravages of the demise of families in our community.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
The Storm before the Calm
The Storm before the Calm
Across the river
from the beach
where cars can come and park
lies a split of land
between the river and the bay
that is swallowed by the sea each day.
A ribbon of sand
is the only land
where the river and bay
stand side by side.
In the bay are rocks and surf
big enough to break a boat.
Although small enough to see across
many sailors have been lost.
The mouth of the river is almost a pond
except the current is strong.
The wind is enough to fill you sails
but only boat wakes make for waves.
This spit is a place on earth
walked only by those
who take a boat to reach it.
The trip makes clear the mind
so the heart is free to enjoy it.
When the tide gets high
foam rises
as waves break against waves
headed in opposite directions.
Then together both bay and river rise
till no land divides them.
When I die
burn me so no water is left within me.
Carry my remains to this spit
so my friends and family will know it.
Across the river
from the beach
where cars can come and park
lies a split of land
between the river and the bay
that is swallowed by the sea each day.
A ribbon of sand
is the only land
where the river and bay
stand side by side.
In the bay are rocks and surf
big enough to break a boat.
Although small enough to see across
many sailors have been lost.
The mouth of the river is almost a pond
except the current is strong.
The wind is enough to fill you sails
but only boat wakes make for waves.
This spit is a place on earth
walked only by those
who take a boat to reach it.
The trip makes clear the mind
so the heart is free to enjoy it.
When the tide gets high
foam rises
as waves break against waves
headed in opposite directions.
Then together both bay and river rise
till no land divides them.
When I die
burn me so no water is left within me.
Carry my remains to this spit
so my friends and family will know it.
Friday, January 20, 2012
John versus the Board of Ed, et al
The acrimony surrounding the state of our school down the road is almost as upsetting as the conditions inside the school, itself. This sort of upheaval, dividing parents and administrators, including calls for dismissal and wide-ranging expressions of disgust are not an unexpected response when the fortunes of our children are at stake.
We have to keep in mind that the problems presented by the loss of discipline in the classroom are not entirely due to anything the school system has or has not done. The chaos inside the minds of children reflect long-term trends in our society, and are especially concentrated in the lower strata of the socio-economic spectrum.
Typically, we live in these separate strata, and so the problems of one seldom matters to the occupants of another. Racial divisions have long existed along these lines of separation, and the injustice of people of different races attending separate schools is something Americans have worked to solve since the days of Brown v. the Board of Ed.
The desire to move to a color blind culture is the noble imperative behind the legislation that put children together in the same classrooms who before were not. And out of this, the collision that occurs is to some degree the inevitable pains of merging across distinct sets of experiences and expectations.
Out of control behavior by students is nothing new in our schools. My first teaching job was at a school for emotionally disturbed teens that charged $51,000 a year to take these children off the hands of parents and school districts that could afford the tuition. This kind of mania is not isolated to the lower rungs of the economic ladder. However, the frequency and youth of students given to these outbursts is noticeably greater in communities where more children have fewer parents with less education and income.
Our integration of school children is an attempt to break the isolation of minorities in settings that tend to lead to a cycle of poverty. And so we have, after redistricting, more and younger students who are not coping with the classroom setting to the point that the entire student body suffers a consequence. What used to be somebody else’s problem is now ours. And the classrooms that were supposed to be a ticket to a better life succumbs to the chaos that happens when a critical mass of students decide to tip the apple cart just for the hell of it. I saw this happen on many occasions in Haddam Killingworth in the 90s. It is happening today in Farm Hill, but to a degree that is orders of magnitude worse – to the point where it can no longer be tolerated if learning is to occur at all.
We cannot, and should not look to keep people separated by geography that mimics economic, and in turn racial differences. But we must separate the students who disrupt the education of others, and stand to learn nothing in the process. After so many strikes, you have to leave. When violence occurs, and threats are real, even a child does not have the right to stay.
We want the new families at Farm Hill to have an opportunity to send their children to a school where their children can learn and lead to a new future. Redrawing lines on a map without addressing the challenges this poses falls short of meeting the needs of all our children.
Setting standards for student conduct required to earn a seat in a classroom is necessary, overdue, and nowhere in sight in this district. Children can and will respond to adult leadership, as they will falter without our clear and considerate guidance. Until students are clear on what they absolutely can and cannot do in a classroom, this school will not be where I send my children to get their education.
We have to keep in mind that the problems presented by the loss of discipline in the classroom are not entirely due to anything the school system has or has not done. The chaos inside the minds of children reflect long-term trends in our society, and are especially concentrated in the lower strata of the socio-economic spectrum.
Typically, we live in these separate strata, and so the problems of one seldom matters to the occupants of another. Racial divisions have long existed along these lines of separation, and the injustice of people of different races attending separate schools is something Americans have worked to solve since the days of Brown v. the Board of Ed.
The desire to move to a color blind culture is the noble imperative behind the legislation that put children together in the same classrooms who before were not. And out of this, the collision that occurs is to some degree the inevitable pains of merging across distinct sets of experiences and expectations.
Out of control behavior by students is nothing new in our schools. My first teaching job was at a school for emotionally disturbed teens that charged $51,000 a year to take these children off the hands of parents and school districts that could afford the tuition. This kind of mania is not isolated to the lower rungs of the economic ladder. However, the frequency and youth of students given to these outbursts is noticeably greater in communities where more children have fewer parents with less education and income.
Our integration of school children is an attempt to break the isolation of minorities in settings that tend to lead to a cycle of poverty. And so we have, after redistricting, more and younger students who are not coping with the classroom setting to the point that the entire student body suffers a consequence. What used to be somebody else’s problem is now ours. And the classrooms that were supposed to be a ticket to a better life succumbs to the chaos that happens when a critical mass of students decide to tip the apple cart just for the hell of it. I saw this happen on many occasions in Haddam Killingworth in the 90s. It is happening today in Farm Hill, but to a degree that is orders of magnitude worse – to the point where it can no longer be tolerated if learning is to occur at all.
We cannot, and should not look to keep people separated by geography that mimics economic, and in turn racial differences. But we must separate the students who disrupt the education of others, and stand to learn nothing in the process. After so many strikes, you have to leave. When violence occurs, and threats are real, even a child does not have the right to stay.
We want the new families at Farm Hill to have an opportunity to send their children to a school where their children can learn and lead to a new future. Redrawing lines on a map without addressing the challenges this poses falls short of meeting the needs of all our children.
Setting standards for student conduct required to earn a seat in a classroom is necessary, overdue, and nowhere in sight in this district. Children can and will respond to adult leadership, as they will falter without our clear and considerate guidance. Until students are clear on what they absolutely can and cannot do in a classroom, this school will not be where I send my children to get their education.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Pages to Turn
In the secretary
I found an old notebook
With notes written long ago
before the children became her work.
Now the only pages of interest
are the ones with no writing.
The blank ones are for me to fill.
The pages from the past
are the ones to turn
so I can reach a place
with room for the thoughts of the day.
I found an old notebook
With notes written long ago
before the children became her work.
Now the only pages of interest
are the ones with no writing.
The blank ones are for me to fill.
The pages from the past
are the ones to turn
so I can reach a place
with room for the thoughts of the day.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Her morning
In the morning I leave her
eyes shut and shades still drawn
to go to another part of our house
where morning chores will not wake her
from her last hour of rest.
The children stir first
awaking with fresh questions for their father,
thoughts nurtured overnight in ceaseless imagination.
Our boy often joins his mother in his father's place
until the shades are raised
in the groggy search for clothes for the day.
What dreams come to her during the days early rays?
Secrets of her soul run deep beneath ample covers.
Reluctantly she draws back the bedding
emerging as from a cocoon
like a butterfly stretching its wings for the first time.
The waking world surrounds her.
Quizzical kids ask her their first questions of the day.
An earth unto herself begins to turn again.
Clothing comes after a while,
after breakfast and a check of the calendar.
Only slowly does she take to the awoken stage.
What beautiful bliss sleep must bring her.
She leaves behind the consolation of rest and silence
the instant she stands to greet her anxious brood.
eyes shut and shades still drawn
to go to another part of our house
where morning chores will not wake her
from her last hour of rest.
The children stir first
awaking with fresh questions for their father,
thoughts nurtured overnight in ceaseless imagination.
Our boy often joins his mother in his father's place
until the shades are raised
in the groggy search for clothes for the day.
What dreams come to her during the days early rays?
Secrets of her soul run deep beneath ample covers.
Reluctantly she draws back the bedding
emerging as from a cocoon
like a butterfly stretching its wings for the first time.
The waking world surrounds her.
Quizzical kids ask her their first questions of the day.
An earth unto herself begins to turn again.
Clothing comes after a while,
after breakfast and a check of the calendar.
Only slowly does she take to the awoken stage.
What beautiful bliss sleep must bring her.
She leaves behind the consolation of rest and silence
the instant she stands to greet her anxious brood.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Tornadoes
When the tornadoes come
There is no warning
There is no remembering
Only debris to remind you of their path
Fortune favors no one
When the gyres wind up your world
And toss it to the sky
Scattering far and wide
What on earth was home and heaven
They will pass.
But will we survive?
Time will tell, and soon.
When the tornadoes come
That is all that is certain.
There is no warning
There is no remembering
Only debris to remind you of their path
Fortune favors no one
When the gyres wind up your world
And toss it to the sky
Scattering far and wide
What on earth was home and heaven
They will pass.
But will we survive?
Time will tell, and soon.
When the tornadoes come
That is all that is certain.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Return from Odyssey
Return from Odyssey
I walked again today
along a familiar way.
The sights were all the same,
only my mood has changed.
An old friend came driving by
offering me a ride.
I declined with a smile.
"I need to feel my feet" was all I said.
It is a fine thing to return to a place
that long ago was your home.
The sights are mainly the same,
but my mood has changed.
Some bushes have grown taller.
Some trees older than I have fallen.
By storm or saw, it matters not how.
It will take more time than I have for them to grow back, now.
The children that used to play
have almost all grown and gone away.
I am one of those
whose home is no longer my parent's house.
But, whenever my feelings turn foul
I tend to return to my ancient sod
to feel my feet beneath me,
and my mood never fails to change.
I walked again today
along a familiar way.
The sights were all the same,
only my mood has changed.
An old friend came driving by
offering me a ride.
I declined with a smile.
"I need to feel my feet" was all I said.
It is a fine thing to return to a place
that long ago was your home.
The sights are mainly the same,
but my mood has changed.
Some bushes have grown taller.
Some trees older than I have fallen.
By storm or saw, it matters not how.
It will take more time than I have for them to grow back, now.
The children that used to play
have almost all grown and gone away.
I am one of those
whose home is no longer my parent's house.
But, whenever my feelings turn foul
I tend to return to my ancient sod
to feel my feet beneath me,
and my mood never fails to change.
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