Honorific

 Okay, KISS Army, bring it on. 

I did not sneer when your favorite band was inducted into The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. Forty years of stomping around stages across the globe in silver platform boots in kabuki makeup should count for something. 

I didn't complain that they received this honor ahead of DEVO. For the record, the Supdboys are still waiting for their call. 

To make it abundantly clear: This kind of perceived "snub" is part of any organization that makes arbitrary subjective choices based on a very ambiguous criteria. Hence the inclusion of Dolly Parton to the list of those who have been invited to be enshrined.

Which brings us to the Kennedy Center Honors. Previous honorees include luminaries such as Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, Aaron Copeland, Ella Fitzgerald, Perry Como, Charlton Heston, Chuck Berry, Stevie Wonder, Mel Brooks and a singer songwriter by the name of Bruce Springsteen. In 2019 the creators of Sesame Street, Joan Ganz Cooney and Lloyd Morrissett, were awarded for their work. 

You might see where this is going.

To be clear, I have no issues with rock bands being invited to be feted by the Kennedy Center. Groups like Led Zeppelin, The Who, and the Grateful Dead have had their special evenings of lavish praise. Why not the band whose most significant contribution to Americana is their ode to bacchanalia, "I Just Want To Rock And Roll All Night (And Party Every Day)" and the pinball machine that bears their likeness? 

It's that second point that might shine a light on how this selection was made. For a very long time, KISS has made a business out of their show by merchandising virtually any and every product upon which their logo could be stamped. If all of these assorted tchotchkes put you in mind of a certain "president" who has is own line of fragrances, steaks, trading cards, sneakers and so forth, maybe now would be the time to remind you of the time "Demon" Gene Simmons showed up on a reality TV show called Celebrity Apprentice. Gene got fired. As most apprentices did. Which may be why in the aftermath of the former game show host's first try at being "president," Gene had this to say:  “Look, we all lie to some extent, but what happened in the last four years was just beyond anything I ever thought imaginable for people who have lots of power—not just him, but the administration, everybody … all these QAnon people.” Or how about, “He’s out for himself, any way you can get there. And in the last election, over seventy million people bought it hook, line and sinker.”

But when the call went out for the "Kennedy Center" honor, Gene's redundant reply was, We are deeply honored to receive the Kennedy Center Honor." Apparently Kid Rock was unavailable. 

Together

 I think I mentioned that a new school year is beginning. Each time we round this corner, there are days of preparation that go into starting over. As much as we would like to believe that we have seen and done it all, there are plenty of reminders that need to be inserted in all of our educator brains to help ensure a productive voyage to next August when we will crank it over again.

One of those reminders is that of Restorative Justice. If you have never heard of this school of thought, I point you to my local chapter of the folks who are working to break the cycle of violence and incarceration that has pervaded in our cities and towns for far too long. If this sounds like bleeding heart gobbledygook to you, I would only encourage you to think about how you responded to being spanked or sent to your room as a child. If you immediately stopped crying and came to the crystalline realization that your parents must have a point and of course you should "do the right thing," then maybe this school of thought isn't for you. If you continued to cry and grumble and stomp off into some required isolation, certain that "nobody understands," then you might start to grasp what we're trying to do here. 

Just a few days ago, I witnessed a first grader being told that he was going to lose his recess after he continued to stick his tongue out at a classmate. The woman who made this decision for the not-quite six year old was acting on behalf of the classroom teacher, believing that she was creating order and that surely this boy would keep his tongue in his mouth when he returned from watching his friends enjoying their time on the playground. If you don't behave, you don't get recess. Seems simple enough. 

Too simple. The chances that that little boy will remember exactly why he had to sit on the bench for fifteen minutes after those fifteen minutes are up are slim to none. Instead, having a conversation on the way out to recess with the owner of the offending tongue and the children who were affected by this breach of etiquette with an eye toward making understanding about why this behavior is something we could all do without as well as making a practice of connecting whatever restoration needs to take place. In this case, the simple apology to the adult who had a problem with this kind of childish behavior from (checks notes) a child would probably be sufficient. 

It's a teaching moment. Hearing both sides and making sense of a situation is what educators do. Suspending a kid because he "doesn't know how to behave" is shirking the responsibility for teaching that kid "how to behave." 

And here is the reason why the convicted felon's plan to "restore order" in America's cities is doomed to failure. Millions of dollars are being spent to apprehend and prosecute "bad guys." Not a penny is being committed to social programs that could help keep crime from happening before it starts. Locking people up does not impact the reasons why they are being locked up. Just like the time you spent sitting on the edge of your bed after you were sent to your room, wishing your parents were dead, In most cases, your parents didn't die, and you "learned your lesson." But what if that lesson was what happens to you when you do things right? And what about the people you hurt with your notions about interior decorating with crayons? Maybe helping mom and dad clean up the mess and learning all the places where crayons can be completely valid. 

Letting everyone in on the process is how we grow stronger. Together.  

It Is

 Sometimes I write about being caught in a reverie. That is what truly happened to me this past Monday morning. 

At 7:55 AM, I was standing in the doorway of the classroom building of my school. The school I refer to as "mine" because I have spent nearly half my life there. I was staring off into the middle distance, somewhere in the direction of the windows of the office of our Teacher on Special Assignment. The plastic sign screwed into the wall next to that office reads "Assistant Principal." There is a laminated piece of paper that has been carefully handwritten and taped over that sign that says "Teacher On Special Assignment," in case there was any confusion. We don't have an assistant principal. My school is not big enough to afford such a position. 

Which doesn't mean that we don't occasionally need one. When our principal is off site for a meeting or up to her elbows in some other business on campus that doesn't allow her to rush to the scene of whatever major or mild emergency needs attention. Someone has to show up and be that calm voice of authority until our Actual Principal is free to work her magic. Sometimes it's our Teacher on Special Assignment. Sometimes it's our Restorative Justice Coordinator. Sometimes it's our Admin Assistant. Sometimes it's me. We all acknowledge that we are happy to step in and help out, but even happier when the Actual Principal shows up. This same scenario can be played out using the absence of a third grade teacher. Someone will step in and fill that void until that teacher shows up after being caught in traffic or late from a doctor's appointment, or a substitute will appear and then we can get them settled while the kids wonder what awaits them in a day without their "regular teacher."

In the moments before the gates opened on the First Day Of School, I was standing in that doorway trying to recall any or all of the dozens that proceeded it. I was not nearly as nervous as I had been decades ago. In a previous century. There was some anticipation. I ran through lists of students' names that I knew would be returning. How many of them would remember my name?

It was while I was flipping through the rolodex in my mind when I noticed that our staff had begun to gather at the gate. Usually, these folks would be busy rushing about making copies or preparing their rooms for whatever was about to take place that day. But not now. They were all there to greet the reason for our work: The Kids. 

"Mister Caven?" 

It was our Math Tutor. She brought me back to the here and now. 

"Is it time?"

Yes. It is. 

Location, Location, Location

 Okay, here's the setup:

The convicted felon and top of Epstein's List started going on about his trip to Russia at the beginning of this week. “You know, I’m going to see Putin. I’m going to Russia on Friday. I don’t like being up here, talking about how unsafe and how dirty and disgusting this once-beautiful capital was.” That last bit was yet another shot at the place where he spends his off days from the senior's gold cheaters tour. He's sending in the National Guard to correct the trajectory of Washington D.C. which has seen crime rates falling since before the pandemic. You may not remember the global pandemic. The nation's top former game show host sure doesn't. 

But let's get back to that Russia visit.

He's not going to Russia. The meeting is set in Alaska. And though certain Republican firebrands might claim to be able to see that Evil Empire from their log cabin on the Bering Strait, they are on different continents. 

Different continents. 

Yes, proximity is on his side, but since we live in a time in which it is continually difficult to discern what is stupid policy and what is just garden variety stupid, it is possible that a deal was made somewhere in the misty midst of bad decisions by the Second Trump Reich to give up our forty-ninth state in exchange for Hunter Biden's laptop. 

My main concern here is one of geography. How can we let a guy who can't distinguish Fairbanks from Moscow out to make bad deals about territory in other parts of the world? Like his AI vision of "Trump Gaza?" Or his continual ignorance of the facts surrounding the war in Ukraine. Russia invaded Ukraine. Why should they "swap" territory? 

Maybe these bromancers can play some golf in St. Petersburg and figure it out. The St. Petersburg in Russia, not in Florida. 

But they're not going to be in Russia.

They're going to be in Alaska. 

It's almost too stupid to be believed. 

Breakin' The Law

 Liberation is a tricky term. I was once liberated from a Saturn station wagon. I was liberated from having to go to my job at a video store when it closed down. I'm suggesting that "liberation" is usually in the eyes of the liberators, not the liberated. Women's liberation, for example, would have men believing that those uppity women folk don't know how good they have it. For those who continue to do the same job as men for eighty-five percent of the pay might disagree. 

Much in the same way that the citizens of Washington D.C. may disagree with the "liberation" they are experiencing at the behest of the top of Epstein's list. In order to distract America from his obvious and nefarious connection to the trafficker of underage women, the Cheeto In Chief has sent eight hundred  National Guard troops into the streets of our nation's capitol to bolster the hundreds of federal law enforcement officials already on the case. 

What case? Why cracking down on the crime that has been going down steadily over the past two years. He put United States Attorney General Pam Bondi, who couldn't manage to find a file on her desk but now she's going to spearhead the "historic action to rescue our nation's capital from crime, bloodshed, bedlam and squalor and worse," in the words of her uber-agitated boss. 

What's worse that squalor, I ask? How about having a "president" who wasn't upset about his buddy being a pedophile, but rather because the pedophile in question was poaching all the teenage girls from his spa. 

That's some pretty solid squalor there, if you ask me. 

Then there's the matter of Posse Comitatus. For the second time in the past few months, the former gameshow host and current top of the Epstein List has deployed federal troops for domestic law enforcement. This is against the law. The convicted felon is breaking the law by sending the National Guard to clean up the city that has already seen a reduction in the amount of violent crime over the past two years. It should be noted that back in 1993, the District of Columbia experienced a twenty-three percent drop in violent crime not because they sent in heavily armed federal soldiers, but because four thousand people meditated for two to four hours a day. 

Please understand that I believe this same kind of stunt today would probably not have the same shock and awe as a bunch of armored personnel carriers rumbling through the streets. Then again, that sort of thing was normalized back in June when the Royal Buffoon decided to have tanks show up for his birthday. 

Oh, and did I mention that that same "president" is at the top of the Epstein List? 

I just figured I should mention that in case anyone had forgotten.  

Games With Frontiers

 The sometimes avowed King of our little cul-de-sac when in the neighborhood where I grew up was almost always at the center of the games that all the kids played. When it was football season, we played football. When it was time to play basketball, we played on his driveway. On rainy afternoons there was some version of make believe taking place in his basement: wrestling, trapped on a raft at sea, hounded by monsters of all shapes and sizes. The most important feature of all of these activities was that he alone was the arbiter of how any  of these games progressed. When we played tag, he was the one who always insisted that no one had touched him event when there were plenty of witnesses. No one wanted to contradict him because it would end the game. 

So we played on. By his rules. 

Which is how I feel about the gerrymandering of districts in Texas. This sort of political trick has a history of political corruption ever since Elbridge Gerry first proposed a salamander-shaped district in Massachusetts where he was governor at the time. Far from being a tribute to amphibians, this move was intended to bolster Republican control of the legislature. 

His last name was Gerry. I leave it to you to determine the true etymology of "mander," since it may have something to do with "meander" or possibly a French word meaning to call or summon. Whatever its origin, the term has plenty of history behind it that suggests that it is not the democratic ideal solution to a problem, but rather a way to shift focus to allow your team to win. 

That's why the folks down there in the Lone Star State who want to ensure Republican dominance in that state are referring to their process as "redistricting." Their hope is to carve intricate patterns out of the state that will keep it red in perpetuity. A pretty obvious ploy considering the fact that there are more than eight million registered Democrats down there and less than seven million Republicans according to numbers last updated on August 8, 2025. By pinching and squeezing district boundaries to suit their purpose, Governor "Hey" Abbott hopes to keep his party in control.

By Gerrymandering. 

Clever Texas Democrats did something in response that never fully occurred to me back in the day. I could just go somewhere else and play. Which is what the did. They fled Texas to keep this process from thundering on through the state legislature. Games, after all, are more fun and competitive when everyone agrees on the rules. Or at least agrees that that one shot from behind the planter next to the driveway should be worth five points for everybody.  

Ramping Up

 Last week it was a pleasure to get back to work. 

I could tell you that I was inspired by the challenge of taking on the repsonsibility of molding all those young minds once again. 

Because I am. 

I could tell you what a pleasure it was to meet some of our new families and greet many of our students who were returning for registration. 

It was. 

Mostly I was glad to have long days where my concerns were not that of pedophiles and interior decoration. I was allowed to focus on things like curriculum for reading and math. I was encouraged to think about all the ways we can interact with the children at our school in ways to build them up.

And not have to worry for the time being about how our country continues to find distractions beyond the education of this next generation. For a while, thoughts of Gaza and ICE were pushed to the background as I stapled miles of border across miles of bulletin boards. I moved furniture from one room to another. I cleaned this and I fixed that all in the anticipation of another school year. 

It wasn't until I came home and looked at the news that I confronted the extraordinary torment continues on virtually all fronts. I know that it is only a matter of time before the lack of public broadcasting or a Departent of Education comes roaring into this tranquil place where we are trying to teach kids to read and write. 

It is a tough way to have to start a new year.