Having just voted in Michigan’s “Super Tuesday” primary, I got to thinking about the voting process.  Candidates tour around giving speeches, shaking hands and arguing with one another.  I voted for my preferred candidate by taking a black pen and filling in an arrow pointing to the candidate’s name.  I then fed my ballot into a machine where it tabulated my mark.  In November I will repeat the process with few changes other than an increased feeling of futility and even less faith that we have collectively chosen the right leader for our country. 

But what really got me thinking this morning is how interesting this process is compared to the process by which our schools are evaluated and how student achievement is determined.  Students are no longer able to fill in a “simple” multiple choice response on assessments.  Students must not only possess problem solving skills but also the ability to articulate in writing the thinking behind their choice, the process by which they solved it and an evaluation of other strategies. Paper and pencil tests are out the window and online testing is the new norm.  Students, teachers and schools are evaluated based on these results.  Maybe the politicians who implement such requirements should be elected by the same process. 

Perhaps candidates should have to rely on their constituents to not only select them as “most right answer” but to defend why in written form.  Voters should be required to explain their thinking and to evaluate why Johnny in the next voting booth might choose a different candidate. Voters should be required to complete the process online, using unfamiliar systems and technological aptitude that exceeds their training or experience.  Maybe candidates should have to suffer the results of tech glitches and system errors.

I just think it would be apropos for these candidates to endure the same process that I do based on rules they established.  If it is reasonable to expect my students to reflect effective teaching through online assessments based on Common Core standards then I think it is reasonable for candidates to be elected using the same standards of practice.  If they think it is unreasonable for Voters to use an online system or for the system to provide accurate and meaningful data; if they think it is unreasonable for voters to have to provide deep analytical responses and discerning evaluations along with each response; if they think it is unreasonable to depend on a mastery of all these elements by 85% of voters in order to get elected, I will remind them that my students are expected to do all these things. 

And my “constituents” are only seven years old. 
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I’d be remiss if I didn’t update on the Kid.  He’s in his second year at State and is having the time of his life.  He’s working hard on academics (3.8 this semester, including a 4.0 in Calculus – a first for his tumultuous history with Calc).  He has a job working for researchers on campus, providing computer programming support.  He has also been offered a TA position for next semester, working with his favorite professor in a class he just completed.  He has leased a townhouse for next year with two of his best friends at State (the other 2/3rds of “The Musketeers”) and he and his girlfriend are very happy together.  He is thinking about the future, but not obsessing over it.  He is focused on his academics but finds time to relax and play.  He and his girl are wonderful together, but don’t want to rush into anything. 

Sigh.  We raise them to be independent, successful and happy.  It’s just the most amazing feeling when they ARE.

That said, this is the same kid who stood with me in the checkout line at the grocery store holding a can of olives that bears the name of dear friends of ours.  “Lindsay olives?!”  he said.  “That is so cool!  I mean, how awesome is it that you KNOW the people who grew these?”  I just stared at my brilliant child.  “I just think it’s awesome,” he continued, “that they grow these right on their property!”

“They grow grapes, Jacob.  You’ve been there.  They have a vineyard full of grapes surrounding their home.  Not olives.  Grapes.”

“Oh yeah, right.  Grapes.”

Sigh.  I suppose no matter how old or successful he gets, we’ll still have those moments of our Little Flash, won’t we?

The Mister’s brother is unhappy at work.  He works for the US Postal Service and is ready to retire but has a few more years of frustrating work ahead of him first.  He put a kibosh on our annual exchange of gift cards for Christmas, a move that we did not necessarily support as we wanted to spread a little cheer and joy his way during the season of giving.

To that end, we decided to send some local beverages his direction; a little wine from the local winery for his wife and some beer from our small town brewery for his enjoyment.  The winery was generous enough to even provide me with a great box that would ship both bottles nicely.  🙂  I got the package ready and The Mister stopped by UPS on his way home from work one day to mail it.  Going through the long list of shipping-related questions, the clerk asked what was in the box.  The Mister told him, “Wine and beer.” To which the clerk responded very coldly, informing The Mister that it is “Illegal!” to ship alcohol.  The Mister, full of holiday cheer, responded by saying, “Then I’ll just come back tomorrow, and there’ll be a vase in the box.”  Ahem.  Probably not the smartest response.  He left, package still in hand.

But when The Mister hears words like, “illegal” he simply translates it into “more challenging”.  What does he do?  He goes to the Post Office!  Of course he does.  He avoids the counter and the same litany of questions and goes to the self-service package area where he happily (and quickly) skips through the screens asking him about what he is shipping, adheres the postage and drops the package in the chute. 

Because that’s what The Mister does.  He sends an illegal package to a disgruntled postal employee. 

(I must add, that thanks to tracking services, The Mister was also able to revel in the delight of this development by noting when exactly the package arrived at his brother’s facility in Cincinnati.  There might be more evil in this man than I originally knew!)

As an elementary teacher, I work with all women.  On a daily basis, I hear all the complaints of mothers young and old.  I hear wives muttering about husbands, women gossiping about friends and mothers sharing frustrations about their children – young and old.  I am a listener in these conversations.  I am a focused, attentive pair of ears attached to a worried heart that wonders, “Will I be complaining soon?  Will my “newlywed years” end soon?  Will my soon to be twenty-something child cause me motherly angst in the coming months or years?  Will I have complaints to offer in future conversations?”  I wonder, and sometimes I worry, but most of the time, I remain silent and grateful.

I love my husband.  I deeply love my husband.  And while I am not nearly naive enough to think he is flawless, I also recognize that my love isn’t in spite of his flaws, but perhaps because of.  Sure, I get frustrated on occasion, but I know that every day, correct that, perhaps every hour, that man forgives me for my flaws.  He doesn’t bring them up.  He doesn’t hold them against me.  He doesn’t remind me of all the areas big and small where I need improvement.  He just loves me.  Deeply.  Every day.

And my child?  I can’t really say “child” anymore.  I know, technically, he’s always my “child”, but he’s a man.  A beautiful, man.  He is thoughtful, respectful, considerate and responsible.  He is making sound choices and shows gratitude on a regular basis for the blessings that surround him.  I absolutely adore the man he is becoming.  And he adores his mother (or he is great at pretending that he does!)

I have this beautiful home, this sweet dog, amazing friends who come for lunch, or for advice, for drinks on the deck or to talk for hours.  I have a good job where I am surrounded by kids who love to hug and giggle.  I have shelves of books and a piano in the family room.  I have money in the bank and two working cars in the garage.  We have a church to go to on Sunday mornings, good jobs to go to during the week, a local farmer’s market to visit each Saturday and a house in the woods to come home to each night.

I am, above all else, so very grateful.

The Mister and I have been talking about the designs for the new garden area.  We are very close to having that area of the yard cleared out and we have lined up a tiller to get the ground ready for a few plants before the season is over (I want to get the strawberry plants we brought from the other house in the ground so they can root up before winter, not to mention the importance of getting rhubarb and asparagus going as soon as humanly possible!)

We have stood out in the dirt and pointed at things and we have laid in bed trying to explain our thoughts on what should go where and how we can add the chicken coop next spring and where exactly the gate will go but in order to get some concrete numbers about lengths of fencing and number of posts, we decided we should draw out the garden design.

So we did:

As you can tell from the drawing, we have a lot of work to do.

(The scariest part of this is that it makes perfect sense to The Mister and me!  We actually clarified a lot of things through this drawing!)

P.S.  Be grateful our school has a full-time art teacher and I’m not responsible for teaching the kids how to draw!