kid

Largest teacher prep program in Texas at risk of losing accreditation

A long awaited report on Maternal Mortality in Texas is now two months delayed and may not be available for the next legislative session. We’ll have the latest. Other stories we’re tracking: amid a statewide teacher shortage, the biggest teacher accreditation program in Texas now facing the possible loss of accreditation. We’ll hear more. And after several local ordinances to decriminalize marijuana pass on the November ballot, a pushback from many local officials. Also a singer from El Paso who’s new release, Frontera, is turning a spotlight on latino voices in country music. Our conversation with Valerie Ponzio, the week in Texas politics with the Texas Tribune and much more today on the Texas Standard:

Texas Standard: May 20, 2021

The Legislature has the power, but does it have the will? Where’s the long promised fix to prevent massive outages like the one last winter? What happened to a much anticipated overhaul aimed at preventing another deadly round of power failures. Also an update on prison and bail reform. And as cryptocurrencies crash, the transplanted Texan who seems to have unusual power in the markets. Plus the best community college in the nation? a hint: it’s in the Lone Star State. And an historian pushes back on a project aimed at teaching what are described as Texas values. Those stories and more today on the Texas Standard:

Poem For A Rising Freshman

Students are headed back to school. For many, that’s in a virtual way. For almost all, it’s different than last fall. That was the inspiration for this Typewriter Rodeo poem.

Remembering The Summers Of My Youth

Now that we’re in the dog days of summer, I’ve been thinking about the long summers of my youth. We had longer summers then. It’s not just an idealized memory. Schools would dismiss us in late May and we wouldn’t return until September 2nd or so, generally the day following Labor Day.

What I remember distinctly about those summers of more than 50 years ago, is that I was a free range kid. My mom opened the gate in the morning for me and my brothers and we’d wander out into the great pastures of our neighborhood and entire town – yes, it was a small town – unsupervised. We’d roam all over with all the other kids, also free range, and play games and sometimes watch TV at other kids’ houses until we were chased out by a stern mom who’d tell us to “get- on-outside and play.”

I say we were unsupervised, but not really. The whole town had its arms around us and made sure we behaved, and were safe.

About noon we’d meander back home and have dinner. That is what we called lunch then. The noon meal was dinner. Then we’d have a nap, with cicadas humming loudly, and go back out until supper time, about seven. We’d eat supper quickly so we could get back out to our friends where we’d play until well after dark, enjoying games like “kick-the-can” and “red light.”

The grown-ups were out there with us, sitting in lawn chairs, making homemade ice cream, listening to baseball games on small transistor radios and gazing up into the stars, marveling at the tech-savvy age they lived in, where they could see NASA satellites passing over.

Yes, as kids, we were quite free. I remember one day me and my brothers were on our bikes with backpacks on, ready to head out and my father said, “Where are you boys going?”

We said, “To the lake.”

He said, “To that one five miles east of town?”

“Yes, sir,” we said.

“That one out there on the FM road with all the 18 wheeler traffic?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That one you have to cross the rattlesnake field to get to?”

“Yes, sir,” we admitted.

“All right. Just be back by dark or your momma will worry,” he said.

I like that my Dad would never admit to worrying himself. He just worried about my mom worrying.

He was also big on the idea that boyhood shaped and toughened the man that the boy would become.

Once I asked him for a ride over to my friend Gonzalo’s house.

He said, “It’s only a mile over there. Walk. It’ll do you good.”

I said, “But it’s about 100 degrees right now.”

He said, “Wear a hat.”

Summers sure are different for kids now. The world is no doubt more dangerous now than it was then.

But no matter the reasons I’m grateful for the boyhood I had, rather than these modern ones, with kids so often cooped up inside with high tech games. To be honest, though, I do have a tiny bit of cross-generational tech envy in me. I know that when I was 15 I would have loved to have had an Xbox. Still, I know for sure that I wouldn’t trade my free-range summers for all the terabytes of RAM in the world.

A Poem Of Hope For A Sad Kid

Sometimes, a kid needs permission to feel sad for awhile. That was the inspiration for this Typewriter Rodeo poem.

Texas Standard: June 28, 2018

The end of Rowe versus Wade? Not so fast say a Texas law scholar and a former law clerk to retiring Justice Kennedy, we’ll explore. And conventional wisdom has it that Kennedy’s likely successor on the court will be an ideological opponent of the landmark 1973 abortion rights decision. But in the end, such a challenge might not turn on Kennedy’s successor, we’ll hear why. And first it was bags, but now that Texas bag bans have been trashed in a court challenge, the spotlight turns to plastic straws, we’ll take a look at the latest. Also, digital savant Omar Gallaga with summer tech for kids. Those stories and so much more today on the Texas Standard:

My Valentine

At 60, I didn’t expect ever to fall in love again. I thought that sort of euphoric madness that comes with infatuation was all in the past – reserved for younger people. But I was wrong. When she came into my life, the world stopped – and changed forever.

I first saw her in photographs. Someone showed me pictures – black and white – grainy photos. She was interesting, but the pictures didn’t do her justice. When I met her in person, I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I was mesmerized. She was 7 ½ pounds and 19 inches of perfection.

At 60, she was my first girl. Perhaps not a bonafide miracle, but for me she was. My eternal valentine.

We named her Scarlett. And Paloma-Maria after her two grandmothers.

That very night I began keeping a journal for her.

I wrote: You are just a day old now. You are my ONLY girl, which makes you precious beyond measure. I will keep this little journal of our first years together. I will tell you what amazed you and what delighted you. Your first words will be here. Your first steps. I will do all I can, as will your mama, to make sure you are exposed to all the influences that will make you an extraordinary woman – one who is intellectually curious, adventurous, brave, full of self-confidence, but also empathetic and kind, a woman who is strong, and gentle, too, both a warrior and a poet.

Three years have passed now. People have started asking me how raising a girl, at least for me, is different from raising boys. I say, “Don’t know much, but let me tell you what I didn’t know.”

Until I had a girl, I didn’t know about spontaneous politeness and gratitude. Returning from the beach she said: “Thank you for taking me to the beach.”

Until I had a girl I didn’t have a child who thought I had super powers. She handed me scissors and a paper and said, “Can you make me a bicycle?” I said, “How about a rectangle?”

Until I had a girl I didn’t know you had to dance to the opening theme song of Dora the Explorer and Elena of Avalor. Scarlett’s motto is never miss a chance to dance.

Until I had a girl I sang the lullabies. But she’s not pleased with the way I sing them so she often takes over.

Until I had a girl I didn’t know that when you took her for a walk around the neighborhood in her big stroller, you had to take her dolls, too. I didn’t know that dolls left behind would be “sad.”

Until I had a girl I wasn’t awakened this way, singing Happy Birthday.

I couldn’t have been any more moved if it had actually been my birthday. Such technicalities don’t matter to her, though. People need to celebrate their birthdays at least once a month – to appreciate the simple joy of just being alive.

Until I had a girl I didn’t know there were so many colors in the world. She has 300 around her easel. She likes to paint vermillion crocodiles. To me they are just collages of triangles and squiggles, but I put them on the fridge anyway, and brag about her Picasso-like potential.

Until I had a girl I never got my nails painted. One day she got her mom’s polish and wanted to give me a manicure. I resisted. My wife shot me that “Don’t be a Neanderthal” look. I said, “Okay, one hand.” I forgot about it and later that afternoon I suddenly realized I was likely the only guy at the gun show with autumn mist nails. A man there noticed and said, “Next time – go camo.”

Until I had a girl I never had a child so empathetic. She wants to know how I’m feeling, if I’m happy or sad, or if my anything hurts and if I might need a doctor – and lucky for me, she happens to be one.

Until I had a girl I didn’t have a child so young so self-aware. I asked her if she was mama’s girl and dada’s girl. She said, “I’m Scarlett’s girl.” Gotta love that.

Until I had a girl I didn’t know that Valentine’s Day was so important. It’s her favorite holiday, along with Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and July 4th. But truly with her loving heart, Valentine’s was made for her. It’s a week away, but she’s already popped the question: “Dada, will you be my Valentine.”

Yes, always and forever. And your mama’s, too. After all, she did give me you.