Sunday, March 7, 2010

A Public Education Success Story in New Orleans -- Wright in My Neighborhood!




Finally! I finally remembered to post pictures of the Sophie B. Wright Charter School marching band!

These pictures were taken on Super Bowl Sunday during the King Arthur parade.

It's difficult to describe how proud I am of these young people and their adult sponsors. If you check out the above link to a recent Times-Picayune article about the school's journey, you might come to appreciate the obstacles thrown into the school's path since 2001. You might also come to understand how Katrina's devastation and aftermath might have been the genesis of the good things going on in education in New Orleans: when the slate is wiped clean, there are no more "lines" inside of which the system must color.

After Katrina, and liberated by the designation of her school as a "charter" affiliated with one of our universities, Wright's no-nonsense Principal chose traditional values and discipline as the foundation for her re-molded school. She rounded up a phenomenal faculty and staff, and recruited not only highly-performing students, but also parents whom she knew to be both interested and committed to raising and educating good citizens who will become contributing members of society. Not a bad equation.

When we first moved to this neighborhood in 1999, Sophie Wright was a mess -- what you envision as a typical inner-city junior high with slovenly-attired, foul-mouthed students that walked to school or jumped off the bus early, leaving littering and looting in their wake. I choose to forget how many times the cars were vandalized, or how many plants were ripped out by the roots, or how many things "disappeared" from our wrought-iron-fenced-and-gated yard, or what unpleasantly foul words I heard wafting loudly through the air as school opened or closed. Many was the day I tried to get through by phone to the office to report wandering students or a fight among them taking place at our corner. Rarely was the phone answered.

That doesn't happen anymore, or at least it doesn't happen where the neighborhood is made keenly aware of it.

We sensed the beginnings of change in the fall of 2006 or spring of 2007. Still a little gun-shy (pardon the pun) about the neighborhood's darling children, we kept a close eye on them as they traveled to and from school. One afternoon, a young girl -- probably no older than 12 or 13 -- was being cruelly taunted by a small group of young men as they headed home on foot. She took all she could take and picked up a brick, eyeing them as targets. Pepper happened to be puttering in the yard and yelled at the young men to leave her alone and to clean up their language -- they all took off, lickety-split, and he thought maybe, once again, he should try to report the incident, not expecting to have much success as past experience suggested. He called the office and someone answered the phone, even though school had been dismissed for the day! He deemed it a refreshing experience as he gave a description of the events and kids involved, but thought that would probably be the end of it.

Not so.

Ten minutes or so later, a man wearing the uniform of Sophie Wright's faculty and staff appeared at the gate with a clipboard and the young people in tow. He politely introduced himself and showed appropriate identification as a member of the Sophie Wright team and asked Pepper to recount what he had observed. Flabbergasted, Pepper re-told his tale, identifying the players along the way. Then, you could have knocked him over with a feather when the Wright faculty member exacted an apology from the kids to one another and to Pepper, and he promised that their parents would be informed and the students disciplined. To be honest, we were a little fearful of retribution, but nothing ever happened, and those students minded their manners thereafter when passing through the neighborhood. At least they did in front of our house!

Since that time, the appearance of the campus has been brightened and beautified by groups of students, staff, and parents working together. The academic performance of the school as a whole has measurably improved. Activity is going on at the school all the time, keeping its students engaged in creative, wholesome pursuits. And I'm no longer secretly afraid of the neighborhood students.

To me, the marching band is the public face of Sophie Wright's success. We listen each year as the band starts from scratch, practicing in the schoolyard, sometimes wondering if they will ever all play the same notes at the same time. But, they work -- they work hard, putting in long hours -- and they succeed in coming together. Their band director and chaperones work hard, too, and should share in the glow of success, knowing that they have probably changed these children's lives forever, for the better.

This year, the band began practicing for the parades by circling the block while playing or dancing. Part of their training is learning to concentrate through the din of cheering parade-watchers. Pepper and I tried to help them out by standing outside and clapping as they pass, or honking a car horn in rhythm to the beat. They did as instructed and concentrated on their performances -- for the most part. We spied quite a number of surreptitious peeks in our direction, accompanied by shy, satisfied grins. But, who can fault them?

The last few years during Carnival, entrepreneurial booster groups (including non-band students) have opened the school during weekend parades, selling really good (donated) food prepared in the cafeteria, secure parking spots in the schoolyard, and use of clean restrooms. That's teaching by example, I'd say.

The proceeds go, among other places, to the purchase of those dazzling uniforms and instruments you see pictured above, and to outfitting the spirit groups for the Warriors. I've even kicked in a few donations myself.

Sophie Wright was everywhere this Carnival season, showing off their hard work and doing their beaming mentors proud. We were proud of them, too.

Sophie Wright is a win-win for its students, the neighborhood, and the future of public education. We wish them continued success as their program builds and their school's successes multiply.

Now, if we could only do something about that awful bus backing-upping beeping!

Saturday, March 6, 2010

The Cat's Out of the Bag!



This is absolutely erudite, profound, and downright funny. I wondered what Victoria Jackson had been up to since her Saturday Night Live days!

I also wonder how many black helicopters and guys in dark glasses with squiggly things coming out of their ears are monitoring her movements these days.

Friday, March 5, 2010

No Saturday Rest for the Moogie


Remember Sophie Wright Middle School Academy a half-block down the street? The School whose marching band I've bragged on and encouraged?

They've turned on me.

Tomorrow, Sophie Wright will host the Louisiana Drumline Mini-Camp, a "workshop for experienced drummers ages 8 - 18, " including sessions on drums and other percussion instruments.

Legions of eight year old drummers! Hooray.

Even if they forget and leave their drumsticks at home, it won't matter -- a new pair of drumsticks is included in the registration fee.

The hours? 8:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m..

So much for a peaceful Saturday morning sleep-in. And so much for a morning without bleeping beeping bus backing upping.

*Sigh* What I go through to support the arts.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Tired Brain Syndrome


I don't recall when or where I found this, but I saved it to post on a day when my brain was tired and I didn't want to get into anything lengthy. So, here it is today.

I listened to most of the Young President's latest "last" statement on the healthcare issue today. It made my brain tired.

I don't know whether I could make it through this maze today. Maybe it's because my blonde-ish comes out of a bottle, and the original color was nowhere near blonde, at least once I attained double digits in age. Most likely it's because my brain is tired.

I did give birth to one blonde. Okay -- strawberry blonde.

Maybe a cocktail would hlep. Help. Maybe.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The Jefferson Family Implosion Continues on the Fast Track

Remember "Dollar Bill" Jefferson, my former Congressman who stashed $90,000 in cash in his freezer? The one who is now awaiting sentencing for his public corruption conviction?

Remember his brother, Mose Jefferson? The one now awaiting sentencing for bribing a public official? The one scheduled for another trial in March for mail fraud, looting charities set up to access public funds to assist the impoverished, and a number of other naughtinesses?

Meet their sister, Betty Jefferson, 4th District Assessor for Orleans Parish, the lady in regal purple pictured above. Last Wednesday, she and her daughter, Angela Coleman, pleaded guilty to the federal raps of conspiracy to commit mail fraud, aggravated identity theft, money laundering and tax evasion.

The fun part? Ms. Jefferson and her offspring (obviously, the tainted nut doesn't fall far from the poison tree) will be testifying against good ol' Mose and his gal-pal, Renee Gill-Pratt, former state legislator and City Council member, in that March trial.

Yet another sister, Brenda Foster, pleaded guilty in 2008 in the upcoming foray into federal court, and agreed then to testify against Mose and Renee.

What a charming southern family. Wouldn't you just love to invite them all over for sweet tea and a spirited game of Backgammon? After you locked up all the family silver and heirlooms?

One Times-Picayune columnist, Stephanie Grace, echoed my feelings in her Sunday op-ed piece entitled, "Predatory Jeffersons": this family is nothing more than a band of amoral brigands aiming to "spread the wealth" from the public and the poor by channeling it to themselves. Her two closing paragraphs nail it:

In short, legal documents in this case paint a picture of a family willing to betray anyone and everyone around them, from their closest friends to their poorest constituents, for their own gain.

Whatever else Bill and Mose Jefferson did, that will be the final word on
the family's political legacy.

The scary part? Dollar Bill has five daughters, all Ivy League educated, and at least one of whom has already dabbled in politics.

Run for the hills and hide your assets!

Monday, March 1, 2010

More Mardi Gras Merriment





Amazing, huh?

The "Burning Opera House" weighed 35 pounds, but the designer had it perfectly balanced so he barely noticed it at all. Note the "fire hose" -- the gilded, sequined and slightly suggestive fire hose. We were on the edge of St. Ann's, after all (as the intolerant, God-hates-you protesters with bullhorns noted. They apparently haven't met the loving God of the New Testament, preferring the spiteful and wrathful Old Testament God-- kind of like them. Didn't they hear that Jesus died to wipe away the sins of His children? But I digress . . . .)!

The zebra/giraffe wasn't quite so lucky in the weight department -- he had to stop and set down the menagerie every now and then because it was so heavy!

Unlike Moogie (see previous post), the lady in turquoise tights apparently hadn't lost her asp.

Sorry. I couldn't resist.

I don't know which is more fun in the Quarter -- Halloween or Mardi Gras Day!

A Honey of a Mardi Gras






What a fabulous day, that day before Ash Wednesday where it's just Tuesday in the rest of the country! I'll bet most other places even have more bills to pay because they get mail delivery on Mardi Gras!

We actually thought about logistics this year, and the ability to move through the city without getting trapped in an enormous Mardi Gras Indian gathering under an Interstate overpass or stopped by a police line closing streets for truck parades or walking groups, so we parked roughly halfway between Krewe of Eggs/Parc St. Charles balcony and the Whiddons' house in the Quarter. Unfortunately, we didn't plan on getting delayed on Prytania so Pete Fountain's Half Fast Walking Club could cross on its way to St. Charles, and we were almost a little late for our first stop. But, we soldiered on and made it in plenty of time -- even scored a 50th Year Commemorative Half Fast Doubloon later in the day! Kismet!

Krewe of Eggs was delightful, as usual, at Li'l Dizzy's at the Whitney, with this year's theme of "Gone With the Hen." There were the standard rubber-fried-egg food fight and movie-chicken-and-wind themed door prizes and favors. My favorite was the squawking rooster and hen -- now added to the Krewe of Eggs Mardi Gras Shrine in the powder room -- and the folding fans for "Hot, Flashy Chicks." The joint was "buzzing" with swarms of bees -- "The Bee Team." There were, among others, Worker BEEs, BUMblebee, Queen Bee, O-BEE-GYN, BEEwitched, BEEdeviled, BEEdazzled, BEE Hive, BarBEE, and, naturally, starring Moogie as the fabulous Queen of De-Nial, BEEopatra. That's me up there between BEE Hive and BarBEE, but I seem to have lost my "asp" in the picture. You know how it is with Moogie -- she goes to the casino and loses her asp; she goes to Mardi Gras and loses her asp . . . !

After the "Corr-egg-nation" of Royal Rooster XX and revelation of The Pretender to the Perch, the Krewe headed to the Balcony. It was blooming COLD!!! I dressed in layers upon layers and still shivered myself sore on the balcony trying to capture a picture of our friend, Lisa, riding in the Mr. Big Stuff float in Zulu. And Zulu ran really late -- later than its "traditional" fashionably late a la Zulu -- due to a breakdown, so I had plenty of time to shiver. I now think I understand why one doesn't see many bees during the winter!

We skipped Rex this year -- the atmosphere on the Balcony was just a little off-putting for some reason, so we headed early to the Quarter to ooh and ahhh over the creativity and downright brazenness of many a body. We didn't make it in time to see the St. Ann's costume contest, but we did manage to catch a number of the costumes later as the contestants strolled around Bourbon and Dumaine. Bobbie once again outdid herself in the hospitality department, and we just enjoyed the company and revelry all afternoon.

The truck parades were just making the turn onto St. Charles when we hit Napoleon on the way home, so we did have to do a little time in traffic (and roll over thousands of beads!). The first pic shows the condition of the street as we passed. It never fails to amaze me how much trash is generated during Carnival, and how very quickly it gets cleaned up by the Prison crews who pile out of their buses and attack the parade route with rakes and construction-grade trash bags. A few hours after the parades clear, the only remaining trace of the revelry and excess is the beads that never made it to outstretched hands hanging from the trees that line the Avenues. And they'll stay there as a promise of next Carnival season, barring any big gusts of winds (please, please bar the big gusts of wind for another year!) during the summer and fall.

I can't wait for St. Patrick's and St. Joseph's parades in a few weeks! They throw groceries!