Category Archives: education

Writing Lesson #47

Some people will never use one word when two words will do.

If composing a road sign they would write, “Bring your vehicle to a complete halt,” instead of “STOP.”

This is the sort of thing that makes editors and teachers want to beat somebody over the head with a copy of The Elements of Style. Strunk and White may be a small book, but that would still get you fired.

So, what do you tell the writer? How about this:

You are not getting paid by the word. Instead, imagine that I gave you $400 and for each word you use I will take back one dollar. You get to keep whatever you don’t spend. I bet that would convince you to cut out unnecessary words and phrases, wouldn’t it?

Remember: it’s your job to stomp out verbosity. And if my suggestion doesn’t work, let the beatings begin.

A Stroll Down Cherry Lane

One thing leads to another. First my mind drifted to Dondi, the poodle who was hit by a car and fell down the storm drain. Naturally, I had to look at the actual site of that incident in Google Street View. There it is.

Since I was in the neighborhood, I took a virtual walk down Lexington Street to Cherry Lane School. It hasn’t changed that much.


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It was here that my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Rice, wrote in my permanent record that I had a tendency to begin ambitious projects and fail to complete them. Was she referring to my papier-mâché volcano? Or the elaborate diorama of a TV studio I tried to make out of clay? Maybe she was right.

It was also here at Cherry Lane that Miss Salerno tried to put ChapStick on Joe Sergio. She hated chapped lips and would chase him around with the ChapStick, trying to smear it on his lips. This was bad, but not as bad as when she tried to cut his hair. She was obsessed with Joe Sergio.

And it was at Cherry Lane where Mrs. Kennedy would award JFK fifty-cent pieces to her third grade students who did fine work or distinguished themselves in some way. I was among the handful of kids who never got one.

But what I remember best are the air raid drills. Sometimes we would get under the desks, other times we’d kneel in the corridor with out faces to the wall and our arms shielding our heads.

Of course, there were never any bombs, but it seemed like great fun at the time to pretend they were coming. At that age, everything is about fantasy and play. After the drills we would follow up on the playground, where we would make believe that the teachers were all vaporized, and climb from the rubble of Cherry Lane to rebuild the world.

The Origins of Pizza in America

There’s nothing more annoying than parents who argue with teachers about their kids’ grades. I swore I’d never be one of those people and have lived up to that standard. Except once. That was the pizza incident.

My older son’s 8th grade social studies class were assigned to write an essay from the perspective of one of their ancestors. He wrote as my grandfather, telling his tale of arriving here from Italy. In the story, my grandfather laments that America has lousy pizza.

He did a great job and would have had a perfect score, except his social studies teacher knocked off five points due to the pizza reference.

“Pizza,” she wrote in big red letters, “was invented in America after WW II.”

Pizza was invented in America? WTF?

This prompted a phone call.

“Look,” I said, trying not to sound confrontational, “I’m pretty sure there was pizza here before 1945 — and I’m positive we didn’t invent it.”

Editor’s note: beginning a statement with “look” always sounds confrontational.

She bristled. “No, it was first created by American troops returning from World War II. It was inspired by what they ate in Italy.”

The steam was beginning to build in my head. “Well, according to everything on the internet, you’re wrong.”

“Mr. Madeo. Maybe you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

This was eight years ago, back when everything on the internet was true, so I  called the principal. He wisely said he wasn’t interested in getting involved in academic disputes.

Harumph!

Just as I am not one to complain about grades, I am not one to insist on having the last word, so when I saw the teacher at my kid’s 8th grade graduation I was nothing but gracious and humble. “I just wanted to thank you for everything this year. But I still say you’re wrong about the pizza thing.”

She glared at me. I smugly turned away. So there.

The Graduate

Are we not graduates?College graduation season is coming. These are special days full of celebration and ceremony, grand events that mark an important moment of passage.

And that’s why you never, ever want to graduate in December.

It’s a long story why I graduated from SUNY Plattsburgh in December — but I like to think that I got more education by being there an extra semester. What I remember best about graduation was that it was firmly second-rate. When they started playing Pomp and Circumstance on a rickety old piano, we all looked at one another thinking we’d been gypped. The whole thing had the rag-tag feel of an afterthought, sort of, “Oh… we need to throw something together for these December graduates.”

I’ve been to kindergarten graduations that were better planned.

We were increasingly skeptical as fellow student Roger Sadler took the stage to give the commencement address. They couldn’t get anybody else to speak? Rodger Sadler? But Sadler was funny and had a disarming way about him. He seemed to recognize the absurdity of our low-budget graduation — and that made us all feel good.

Plattsburgh has cleaned up its act since 1983. This year they had singers, bagpipes, and other music  – and in the press release it sounded pretty good. But just pretty good. Take my word on this: attend the May graduation, not the December one.