Let's take it from the top

The first and only time we watched the musical Hamilton was when it streamed through the Disney+ app on Apple TV in July of 2020. That was during the heart of the pandemic summer. The only one in our family at the time who liked watching it was me. Hamilton was created by Lin-Manuel Miranda and it blends hip-hop, jazz, R&B, and traditional show tunes to tell the story of America's first Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton. 

It was fascinating to watch and the music catchy, but it was difficult to understand at times when the fast-paced music and scenes blurred by across the screen. Thank goodness for closed captioning. Now, both our kids love the music from Hamilton, especially our youngest Bryce, literally singing the lyrics for every song (and Hamilton was all songs).

My wife Amy and I haven't been the big musical fans throughout our lives, though, at least not until our kids became interested in the theater, so that's changing now. Otherwise, the movie Grease with John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John was always our only go-to musical. Because John and Olivia. C'mon. But we did take the kids to see a Broadway production of Wicked a few years ago in New York and that blew us all away.

Pre-pandemic both our kids participated in a sweet theater troupe called Musical Mondays. They got to play a variety of roles, which was so much fun to watch their fun. Bryce participated in another private theater program after that, and then Beatrice got involved in the student-run high school theater. Bryce joined the high school theater as well their freshman year. There is a teacher-advisor for theater who helps guide each production, but it's still mostly student run. 

The high school productions that both our kids have been in to date were fantastic. Such talented kids (including our own!). The last musical they were in was Little Shop of Horrors, which was something neither of us had ever seen. Not even the 1986 movie with Rick Moranis, Steve Martin, and many others. I've known what it was about since the movie came out back then, but it wasn't until we saw it in its entirety that we realized what we'd been missing. The doo-wap 1950's music kept our feet tapping and dark comedy kept us laughing. 

We did end up watching the movie the day after we saw the high school production, and while it had its moments (Bill Murray's character was hilarious), we preferred watching the kids sing, dance, and act. Beatrice even got to be one of three puppeteers, working the smaller plant puppet during the "Grow for Me" song. 

Bryce has three years of high school theater left and Beatrice has one year left. Both kids have had minor roles and been in all the ensemble scenes, and the more confident they get, the more they'd love a bigger part. They'll keep working at their craft and keep auditioning.

After every high school production, there's a tradition where the kids give a "theater robe" to a student who they feel went above and beyond during the show. The robe has memorabilia from past productions sewn onto it, and the student they pick then sews something onto the robe from the last production they did. After Little Shop of Horrors, the kids gave Beatrice the robe. 

Not only that, Beatrice is also on the theater committee for her senior year and gets to help decide the next play and musical. And the murder mystery play she recommended was picked for the fall! And she's going to be the director, too! We're so proud!

Both our kids have found their people in theater (and choir), as the saying goes, and we're so grateful. And next semester, Beatrice gets to call out, "Let's take it from the top".

We can't wait!

Because it's all "fire", dude

I told our kids I really was in men's glee in junior high, and then in choir in high school. They wanted proof. High school was easy because, there I was, styling a tux in the yearbook pictures from freshmen through junior years. 

But when I looked in my junior high yearbook, I wasn't in the group picture. Why I don't remember. Maybe I was at a math competition that day. Something else that would've conflicted with the taking of the group picture. Not only I wasn't in the picture, my name wasn't listed either. That was an unfortunate oversight somewhere along the line. Mr. Hannah, our junior high choir teacher, surely would've included my name in the listing.

"Dad, you weren't in men's glee; you're not in the picture," our youngest Bryce.

"Yes, I was," I protested. Why wasn't I in there? I thought.

"You're not in there, Dad," our oldest Beatrice said. 

"C'mon, Dad," my wife Amy said.

"I thought you were an athlete, a brain, and in student government," Bryce said. "You were a nerd, Dad. Except when you were in detention. That was cool."

That's a story our kids love: the fact that when I was student body president, I received lunch detention for too many first period tardies. One of the other kids in detention has said to me, "Dude, aren't you the president?"

Yes. Yes, I was. The kids always laugh at that. 

I continued to defend myself about being in men's glee. Then I had an idea -- I had a cassette recording from men's glee in junior high that Mr. Hannah had recorded and made for all of us and our families. 

"I have proof," I said. "Listen to this."

I pushed play on the only working cassette player we have. Young teenage boys' voices sang an old standard like Erie Canal. 

I stopped the tape. "See?" I said. "I was in men's glee."

The kids laughed. "How do we know you were one of them?"

Sigh. They weren't wrong. I really was in men's glee. No, really. 

Today both our teens are in high school choir and love it -- and we love watching them sing! Bryce has been in choir since middle school and this is Beatrice's first year. Since last fall, they've been excited about their spring trip to a music festival in Anaheim, CA. And so have we. 

Because Disneyland. 

Don't get me wrong -- we really enjoy hearing all the kids sing. They are amazing. But c'mon, it's Disneyland. We've been taking our kids to Disneyland since they were three and five years old. So, we volunteered to be chaperones. Over 50 kids in total and 8 chaperones between two high schools. 

It was wonderful listening to all the high school choirs sing throughout the festival day, especially our two high schools (and especially our kids' choir). There were over 30 choirs from multiple states that participated. Brilliant song choices and inspired singing. These music directors are doing amazing things with these kids who sounded more like professional adult singers than teens. 

As a parent, it's been quite the bumpy joy ride living it all over again through our teens' experiences -- and all the kids on the choir festival trip. Their boisterous energy, anxieties, friendships, camaraderie, teasing, occasional indiscriminate F-bombs, and Gen Z slang flooded the bus on our way to the Anaheim music festival. Our high school choirs performed admirably and won all gold awards. 

Amy and I and all the chaperones powered through with the kids, eating dinner with our hands at Medieval Times, cheering for all the choirs at the awards ceremony (with Mickey, Minnie, Merlin, and friends), finishing off the 10+ mile hike throughout Disney until it closed, and staying up until midnight each night doing room checks. We were all exhausted but elated on the bus ride home. 

"Are you 'locked in', Dad?" Bryce said to me when we left, leveraging some Gen Z slang.

"It's 'fire', dude," I answered. It means something is really good, impressive, or exciting. That always makes our kids smile. 

Because it's all "fire", dude. And that always makes us smile. 

The Freedom to Thrive

When I first wrote about the high school incident in Visalia last month where a small group of eight ASB students made the shirts they wore spell out “2 FAG6OTS”, there were those who warned me not to read the online comments. Not comments about my article; they were the comments on one of the original news postings about the incident. 

I didn't read them, because most of the time these days online comments are horrible and offensive, but someone did share with me that many of the comments supported the students' free speech.

Free speech to use an offensive slur toward 8th graders who were at high school orientation. Welcome to high school, kids. 

This prompted me to research more about the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which guarantees fundamental freedoms of religion, speech, press, assembly, and petition, primarily restricting government interference. 

It was adopted in 1791 as part of the Bill of Rights and protects against state-imposed religion and allows for free expression, though these rights are not absolute, excluding obscenity, true threats, and incitement.

The First Amendment broadly protects freedom of speech, even speech that is offensive, hateful, or deeply disturbing. The U.S. Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that the government generally cannot prohibit speech just because it is hateful or offensive.

And that sucks, doesn't it? I think it does. Even with the authoritarian movement in this country, we still have the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. I can speak my mind as I do here in this forum and not be jailed for it. Not yet anyway.

But that also means we can say some pretty offensive and intimidating things to each other without fear of legal reprisal. Again, that sucks.

There are limits, however. Important exceptions include:

• Speech — including hate speech — is not protected if it falls into certain unprotected categories, such as:
• True threats (serious expressions of intent to commit violence)
• Incitement to imminent lawless action (encouraging immediate violence or illegal acts — Brandenburg v. Ohio)
• Harassment (especially in workplace or school settings under civil rights laws)
• Fighting words (direct, face-to-face insults likely to provoke immediate violence — though this doctrine is narrow and rarely applied today)
• Defamation

Something interesting to note is that the U.S. does not have a general “hate speech exception” to the First Amendment. Many other democracies (like Germany, Canada, and the UK) do restrict hate speech more broadly, but the U.S. typically does not.

But schools do have the authority to respond when speech crosses the line into harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

Let that sink in — schools do have the authority to respond when speech crosses the line into harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

I'm on my local school board in Santa Cruz and my district shared some important background about when the speech crosses the line. Under California Education Code 48900.4, a student may be disciplined for harassment, threats, or intimidation directed toward a student or staff member that is sufficiently severe or pervasive that it disrupts classwork, creates substantial disorder, or creates an intimidating or hostile educational environment. It’s important to clarify that a racial slur, though it may not be pervasive, is severe. 

Education Code 48900 allows schools to discipline students for bullying, which includes verbal acts, written communication, or electronic communication directed at one or more students that is severe or pervasive and that causes emotional harm, fear for personal safety, or substantial interference with a student’s participation in school. The law specifically recognizes bullying based on actual or perceived characteristics such as race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, or other protected characteristics.

It is important to note that the legal standard used in harassment and bullying cases is “severe or pervasive.” This means the conduct does not need to be repeated over time if the behavior is serious enough. In some cases, a single incident may meet the standard if it is sufficiently severe. Racial slurs directed at a student can fall into this category, particularly when the language targets a student’s identity and creates humiliation, intimidation, or a hostile learning environment.

It's true that schools cannot discipline students solely for speech that would be protected by the First Amendment if expressed off campus. But the incident referenced above happened on campus, during school hours, and during an orientation assembly for 8th graders.

Really. Harassment, intimidation, or bullying that interferes with a student’s ability to learn or feel safe at school.

That's why I'm grateful of our Superintendent’s Student Advisory on Race & Equity in Santa Cruz that was formed in 2020 to elevate student voices around issues of race, equity, and school climate. The Advisory provides recommendations to ensure schools are safe, inclusive, and supportive for all students.

Our school board recently adopted updated Board Policy and approved a new resolution drafted by the Student Advisory on Race & Equity that called for eliminating the use of the N-word and all hate speech. Yes, the N-word. Today. Over 60 years after the Civil Rights Act and all the important anti-racist work since. 

Back to the Visalia Unified School District, the one I grew up in decades ago. Do you think those 8th graders the slur was directed at will feel safe at their new high school now? Based on the latest news I've read about this, the involved students have faced “disciplinary action,” according to the district, but officials said specifics of the investigation — including how many students were involved and how they were disciplined — won’t be made public. Being on my local school board, I get that. 

Whatever the disciplinary action, I hope the students who were involved reflect on what they did and understand how it created a humiliating, intimidating, and hostile learning environment for those students they targeted. Even if they grew up being taught that being LGBTQ+ is "wrong" due to religious beliefs, etc., it's not okay to harass, intimidate, or bully because they don't like it.

Same goes for me and my family — we can speak out against those who discriminate against any race, ethnicity, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, or other protected characteristics. We don't like it, but we're not going to harass, intimidate, or bully them to change their minds. We'll do our best to educate and create a mutual understanding of what the hate speech does to the children and adults on the receiving end. 

So, yes, you're free to be hateful and offensive in this country. And when you lead with "hey, it's free speech", that you can say whatever you want whenever you want, without denouncing demeaning and destructive language directed at specific groups of people for whatever reason, then you're making the world less safe for families everywhere. 

Thank you for letting me speak my truth. Let's reinvest in the freedom to thrive, not destroy.

No Harmless Joke

We used the f-word all the time. We threw it at each other like teasing darts, meant to sting and leave a mark. We also knew other people who used the f-word to make others feel less than human, a filthy sub-species that wasn't worthy to bask in the same circles or sunlight as them. 

That may seem dramatic, but it was more than true, going all the way back to grade school for me and my friends. The usage became especially prevalent in junior high and high school. It continued for years after high school as well. It was about men minimizing other men, to demasculinize each other. When we used it against each other, we never thought about its origin or why it was ultimately offensive. And when it was between us, we were only joking with each other. 

It was only a harmless joke. C'mon.

The f-word I'm talking about is faggot. Including any derivative or tangential equivalent like "you're so gay".

Let's go back in time. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the morpheme comes from the French fagot, which means a small bundle of bound-together sticks to be used as kindling. 

By the mid-16th century, the word had become associated with the burning alive of heretics and was used in callous phrases such as "fry a faggot." 

By the 1800s, the term was also being used to refer derogatorily to women. The modern term may have come from these origins, but the etymology is in dispute.

The Oxford English Dictionary cites a 1914 reference in a book of criminal slang as the first modern American use of faggot as a slur for a homosexual male.

Today the term is listed in most every dictionary as derogatory or offensive.

When I read about the high school incident in Visalia where I grew up, I was disappointed and angered. It was my rival high school when I was a teenager, but that was decades ago and nothing like this happened then that I remember. 

A group of senior students, some who were part of the ASB student leadership, spelled out a homophobic slur with the t-shirts they were wearing. 

According to the news reporting, the picture of them doing this was taken during school hours, immediately following a senior class photo shoot. In the senior photo, the shirts spelled out "Class of 2026 Always Legit," before they rearranged the letters to say the derogatory word.

It seems to have been prompted by the fact that the seniors were leading an eight-grade orientation on when some ASB leaders reacted to two middle-school boys holding hands. Then later in the day, a small group of eight ASB students – male and female, made shirts to spell out “2 FAG6OTS” while seating next to each other on the bleachers.

Student leadership did this. During school hours. In front of the entire student body, teachers, and administration. 

The Visalia Unified Superintendent said, "This is unacceptable behavior and this matter is being thoroughly investigated and appropriate action will be taken."

He added, "Every student deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued on our campuses. We will continue working to ensure our schools are places where dignity, belonging, and accountability guide our actions."

I also read that one of the students' parents was quoted anonymously that "we will deal with them; they didn't mean any harm".

I ask the parents of these kids -- then why did they do it in the first place? Why did they think it was okay? The problem with privileged circular logic is that some of them probably do believe it was a harmless joke. 

When some of my friends in high school egged another friend's house, him and his parents were very hurt. My parents were very upset and disappointed in us. I was upset and disappointed in us. But some of the other fathers didn't care and chalked it up as harmless teen fun. 

Back in the day, my friends and I also rationalized it as harmless joking amongst ourselves. We thought we were pretty good guys who just teased each other relentlessly. It took many years after high school for us to understand how cruel and offensive it was using gay slurs, ethnic slurs, female slurs, etc., and we finally changed our behavior. We never spelled out a slur with our t-shirts at a school function, but that didn't make our behavior any less hurtful if others knew what we said.

Many of us went on to have families of our own. My wife and I have two daughters, both in high school now, and our youngest identifies as non-binary and is gay. Something they knew since they were in the 4th grade. Something we've accepted fully because we love our children and fully support them in being who they are and becoming happy and healthy adults. I believe that's true with most parents. 

We now live in a country whose leadership openly and unapologetically practices discrimination, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, and harassment of historically marginalized populations. Masked in the guise of equality and unity. Thankfully most of us pushing back against the offensive and dehumanizing rhetoric and actions.

So again, I ask the parents of the students who spelled out the homophobic slur at the school function, and the students themselves who did it (some of whom were ASB leaders): Why did they/you do it in the first place? Why did they/you think it was okay? What should the consequences be? What's the learning opportunity here, the empathic growth opportunity for all involved? 

It's no harmless joke, kids. Everyone deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued. Even those we don't like and disagree with. No one deserves their humanity and rights minimized based on gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or religion. As the parents and the adults in the room, we can and should do better for our kids. For all the kids. 

The Autonomy Train

I slept restlessly for the first two hours with my cell phone near my head. My wife Amy was already long asleep, knowing I would be checking if they needed a ride home from the homecoming dance. I checked a few times to see if there were any messages from our teens but there were none. Before I finally fell back asleep for the final time that night, I thought I had heard them come home, and all was right with our world. 

We're at a point now where we want our kids to have more autonomy, independence, and more problem-solving skills to figure out what to do in life without our direct parental intervention. We've given them plenty of emotional, psychological, and physical safety skills over the years thanks to Kidpower, and we continue to reinforce those safety skills continuously, teen eye rolls and all. This includes always understanding what the "safety plan" is if help is needed when we're out together or when they're on their own, which is more and more these days being 15 and 17 years old. And to always let us know if the "plan" changes and why. 

So, when both our kids wanted to go to the high school homecoming dance that would go to 11 PM, and Mom and Dad like to be asleep by around 10 PM, we asked them to find a ride home. Neither of them drives yet; our oldest Beatrice hasn't been in a hurry to drive, and our youngest Bryce can't wait to drive, but still has to wait until the spring. That's okay. Even though Amy and I were driving back in high school, driving is a lot of work (and insuring a teen is a lot of money these days). Beatrice does have friends who drive now, but they're not supposed to drive with other kids the first 12 months they have their license, and we don't want them too either (right now). 

We have reciprocal friends who share in pick-ups and drop-offs, including us, when our friends' kids need rides. Our kids are also comfortable taking the city bus that drops off right down the street from our house and have done so many times in the past few years. While we wouldn't want our teens to ride home on their bikes from a school dance that late at night, only Beatrice uses our e-bike. Bryce uses no bikes. (We tried a long time ago to be a bike family, but that never worked out.)

Plus, the next night after the homecoming dance we were taking Beatrice and a friend to see a concert and knew we'd be coming home after midnight, way past our bedtime. Two nights in a row of late nights and disrupted sleep don't bode well for us, especially Amy. 

We enjoyed the homecoming football game and halftime show while our kids hung out with their friends and then went to dance. When we left the game, we texted them to ensure they had their house keys and to ensure they found a ride home, preferably together, and we let them know the buses still ran that late. They responded that they had their keys and would find a ride. Of course, we'd get them if they had no other ride no matter how late it was, which is why I was restless with the phone near my head. The Mom-and-Dad Uber service is always available, but we agreed that it's time for them to adult more often and figure out (safe) alternatives. We're grateful that they hang out with good kids.

They had fun and made it home safely from the dance that night, getting a ride from another friend's parent. In a few years they'll be doing a lot more adulting on their own without Mom and Dad's help. Blessings to them. The autonomy train has left the station and it ain't coming back. Toot-toot.

Because There's Always A Promise

The past few weeks have been a lot. Work changes, tons of school board activities, Beatrice's High School Musical, Bryce's We Will Not Be Erased march, Bryce graduating 8th grade, and my best friend's memorial. And yet, I've never been on a sounder emotional footing.

Thank goodness, because the world around us continues to be a proverbial shit show. But none of that mattered, especially this past week. 

First, attending the elementary school promotion ceremony where both our children went to school from preschool to 5th grade was so very sweet. Our oldest Beatrice was with me because one of her longtime friend's sister was graduating 5th grade. Most of the 5th graders all looked so tiny and young. Now they were on their way to middle school. Beatrice's memories were bittersweet because it was the heart of pandemic when she graduated 5th grade and the school did a drive-through promotion certificate pick up.

When Bryce graduated 5th grade, I wasn't there because I had work travel that week. But, because the school streamed the ceremony via Zoom, I did get to watch Bryce speak along with a few other students from each 5th grade class. 

I was not going to miss their 8th grade graduations, however. Amy and I were there for Beatrice's two years ago and then Bryce's this past week. Being on the school board, I'm grateful that I got to hand both our children their promotion certificates on stage. Plus, there's nothing better when you're the school board president and your punk rock kid puts rabbit ears above your head for the photo. Love that kid!

8th grade was a lot for Bryce. They struggled with an introverted social battery that drained quickly and led to emotional changes and anxiety challenges. Beatrice experienced similar changes and challenges when she was in 8th grade, too, but who's now thriving in high school. Bryce is looking forward to joining her in high school where they'll both be in choir and theater together. Amy and I continue to provide a loving and supportive environment for them that helps them learn to adapt and thrive. 

All of Beatrice's and Bryce's recent school activities (and anxieties) have brought back many of my own bittersweet memories (and anxieties). And since my best friend Robby passed away earlier this year, my high school memories continue to unravel like multicolored streamers in high wind. They ripple, flap, and tangle, weaving and bleeding into each other – an unreliable blend of what happened then, what’s happened in the years since, and how I feel about it all now. Memories that tatter in my heart. Memories that reconcile and heal in my heart.

And it was the healing in my heart that radiated with love and gratitude at our friend's celebration of life memorial. My dearest friends and brothers as I call them helped me plan the memorial, and many other longtime friends helped to pull it off. Nearly 50 of us came together to celebrate Robby, including his sister and niece. There were many faces I hadn't seen in person in decades. There were lots of smiles and hugs, and of course tears, and while we're all certainly a lot older now, our past youthful spirits were aglow with the promise of our lives then and now. 

Because there's always a promise, one we owe to ourselves to fulfill every moment of every day. Blessings to Robby and blessings to us all. 

Listening with Empathy and Love

40 years ago I was a mental mess. I had finished high school and graduated, but had trashed my stellar GPA the last semester. I remember barely keeping it together as I pushed my best friend into the stadium for our graduation ceremony. He had broken his neck our senior year; I had broken my spirit. It was still a special moment, but a painfully bittersweet one.

Thankfully I was only just beginning to talk about how I felt, even if I didn't fully understand what was going on with my mental health. I was over a decade away from the grateful and mindful path I'm still on today, but at least it was a start. Childhood trauma combine continuous self-imposed pressure to succeed in school led to crippling social anxiety and panic attacks for me my last year and a half of high school. Once I could finally talk about it with friends, my family, a caring high school counselor -- it helped, but the damage at the time had been done. Suicidal thoughts crept their way in at times, but I knew in my heart life would be different someday. 

And it is. Us Gen X kids may have been tougher and survivors growing up (at least it makes a great social media meme), but some of us had our share of mental and emotional train wrecks along the way. Now, with Gen Z teens, my wife Amy and I have been riding the parental roller coaster, again, of teen anxiety. Anyone with teens today knows what I'm taking about. 

Depression, anxiety and behavioural disorders are among the leading causes of illness and disability among adolescents. Ugh.

Teen anxiety may be a common crappy rite of passage, but one difference for our kids than for me at that age was earlier self-awareness, more accessible empathy (from within and from others), and the ability to articulate how they feel. Listening to your kids without judgement, and/or without trying to always solve their problems or telling them to toughen up and deal with whatever it is they're dealing with, is super critical. Encouraging hobbies, sports, theater, music, and physical activities can help, too. 

Sure, I grew up riding in the back of pickup trucks with nothing strapping me in (literally and figuratively). I also literally fell out of the back of one of those trucks when I was 16. Good times. 

Our kids will go through what they go through, have their own bittersweet journeys just like we did. But there should never be any stigma in listening with empathy and love and giving them the resources and support they need to learn how to adapt and thrive in life. And parents need a lot of that empathy and love, too. 

Let's Dance!

In a world on fire full of crazy hate, it was fun to watch high school students and teachers dance like no one was watching. But there lots of people watching -- a high school gym full parents, students, teachers, and administrators who cheered on the dancers for the "Dancing with the Santa Cruz Movie Stars" competition. We never watched the Dancing with the Stars show on TV, but we used to love So You Think You Can Dance. 

I remember when I was in high school when some of us would do funny skits during assemblies that sometime involved other teachers and even parents. 

Like the time I stood in the gym in nothing but a towel wrapped around me (I had shorts on underneath) with a few more of my football team. We were blindfolded and we were supposed to guess which girl was giving us a kiss on the cheek (or something like that). I don't remember all the context during the assembly, but that's what we did. However, the twist was our mothers were the ones who kissed us on our cheeks, and a gym full of students, teachers, and administrators got quite a kick out of it. 

There were many other fun times like these when I was in high school, but this dance show at our daughter's high school was next level. Our daughter Beatrice wasn't dancing, but she was there with her friends cheering on the competitors, including her favorite math teacher. It was only the second year of this competition, and the dance teacher who organized was another favorite teacher of Beatrice's. 

My wife Amy and I hadn't had that much fun on a Friday night since our date nights of old, pre-kids. Watching the high school "Dancing with the Santa Cruz Movie Stars" competition filled me with pride and nostalgia. Teachers or another student were paired with dance students who choreographed the dances to movie soundtrack songs from Barbie, Mama Mia, Teen Beach, Singin' in the Rain, and many others, including Star Wars. Yes, Star Wars. I wanted to get up and dance with a lightsaber, too. A student, a school administrator (who won last year), a professional dancer and choreographer, and our city mayor made up the judges. 

What was the most inspiring for us, though, was all the dancers' willingness to be vulnerable for the sake of fun and entertainment, for trying something new. No one was making fun of anyone as far as we were concerned. The packed gym was cheering on all the dancers regardless of their skill level, and some of them were pretty darn good. Most of the dancing pairs only had a few days to pull together a routine, too. Amy and I used to take dance lessons and love to dust off our moves sometimes, so this got our boogie shoes tapping. In the immortal words of Kevin Bacon's character in Footloose, "Let's Dance!"

Our Kids, Our Future

I told my wife Amy I'd only help sell the drinks for the PTA if I could be in the shade. And that's exactly where the table was when we got to our middle school, but it was still 85 degrees with only a little sea breeze. I set up the water, soda, and juice station nonetheless, preparing to ask for donations. Our oldest daughter Beatrice, now in high school, helped me set up, then vanished. Amy was inside the school running the PTA table and our 7th grader Bryce was preparing to sing in the choir. I was on my own for middle school open house.

It was nice to see old friends whose kids have been going to school with ours since forever. We were only asking for $1 PTA donations for the drinks, and because of the heat and the taco truck nearby serving delicious food, folks flocked to my table. Soon there was nothing left but a few waters. That's when the classroom open house started. 

Amy and I went to each of Bryce's classes, in her regular schedule order, and got to meet and hear from her teachers. It was a great turnout overall and most of the classrooms where full of eager parents wanting to learn what was in store for their children. 

It was the same story the next night when we went to Beatrice's high school open house. Except it was over 20 degrees cooler. That's Santa Cruz for you. I should've sold drinks that night for sure. Beatrice was excited to help us find each of her classes, and again, we really enjoyed meeting all her teachers. 

Being on our local school board, I have the privilege of serving our community, our district teachers, our district staff, and most importantly, our district kids TK-12. It was inspiring to hear this year all our teaching positions were filled! This hasn't been easy here or in many districts throughout California and the rest of the United States. Especially in rural areas. And now the teacher shortage has gotten worse, declining 16%, even after a seven-year increase in the number of new teacher credentials issued in California.

Public education is one of the cornerstones of a sound and thriving democracy. And while democracy isn't exactly thriving right now, I have hope that it will hold. What else does public education mean to America, and to our family? 

These reasons (according to the California School Board Association - CSBA and the Masters in Governance course I'm taking as a school board member): 

• A tuition-free education for all students.
• The promise of equal educational opportunities no matter race, religion, or ability.
• A commitment to high standards and high expectations for all students.
• A system of governance that ensures public accountability.

The public school system is not without its challenges, though, including teaching and staffing shortages, declining enrollment, budget shortfalls, navigating the academic and behavioral setbacks that occurred during COVID, fewer resources for students with special needs and those with cultural and language needs, divisive culture wars, mental health struggles, antiquated curriculum for some, among other challenges. There are also alternatives for families when the public school system doesn't work for them. 

But the public school system has provided our children with the educational resources and quality teaching since preschool that have helped them thrive academically and socially. I see that district-wide now as a board member, from elementary to secondary. Our daughter Beatrice might even want to be a teacher someday, and we couldn't be prouder. This is why I'm hopeful after meeting teacher after teacher who teach all the kids in our district. Who prepare our kids for college and/or career. Who help our kids believe they can be the best versions of themselves -- inclusive and empathetic critical thinkers. Our kids, our future. That's what it's all about.

A Beautiful Mess In Progress

After graduating 8th grade, our oldest Beatrice stressed about going to high school. Who wouldn't? I remember I did. It's such a big change, just like going from grade school to middle school. Like me her dad, stress keeps her up at night, and sleep is a restless mind-scramble mess.

But then she was a junior leader again at a local day camp in town working with 7-8 year-old kids, something she's loved to do, and the high school stress disappeared for the summer. This is the second year she's done it, and next year she'll be able to be a paid summer counselor, which is what she wants to do.

After summer camp was over, something wonderful happened; the week before the start of high school, she really wasn't that stressed any more. High school orientation came and went and it got her super excited about high school. She'll be 15 soon and there's a new level of teen maturity we hadn't seen until this summer. 

Same with her sister Bryce, who will be 13 soon and starting 7th grade. Both girls are very close and share a lot of the same interests -- but also couldn't be more different from one another. Bryce can be dark and broody, not wanting to talk a lot, rarely smiling, and always listening to her music. Beatrice is usually bright and shiny, always wanting to talk a lot, always smiling, and always drawing in her sketch pads. 

Like summer camp for Bea, the theater and choir are what have matured Bryce. After being in Beauty and the Beast last spring, Bryce is auditioning for The Addams Family musical this fall. And now that she's in her second year of middle school choir, may even want to try out for small solo parts. 

We're so proud of both kids, but my wife Amy and I would never want to put either of them in a box. Meaning, label them by what's seen on the surface, because there's so much more to the essence of them. To any us for that matter. 

A few months ago they watched The Breakfast Club with us, one of our favorite teen angst coming-of-age movies. Ironically, the movie came out the year after I graduated high school and the year Amy started high school, but it still left quite the impact on us both. 

Beyond the cheesy teen antics, it's an intense emotional drama at times. Our girls liked it, too. Out of all the questions they could have asked us, they asked if either of us had been in detention, and I told them I had lunch detention in high school for a week due to too many 1st period tardies. This was when I was student body president, too. Mercy me. They thought that was funny, especially when I told them the other kids in detention said to me, "Dude, your the school president. Wow."

Neither of our kids want to be labeled or put in a box (or be in detention). That's why they liked the note that the "brain" character writes at the end of The Breakfast Club for Mr. Vernon, their detention teacher, who had asked them to write an essay telling him who they think they are. 

Like all of us who have kids, teens in high school and middle school, they are so many things beyond what is seen on the surface. Getting to know who we really are is always a messy work in progress growing up and throughout adulthood. A beautiful mess in progress. We are all the things -- a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, and a princess, and a criminal -- and so much more. 

Sincerely Yours,

The #BhivePower Club

Retro K: A treasure trove of golden memories friendship has forged

Thirty years ago a young man befriended me by the name of Robin Christopher Day. We were in the 7^th grade at the time and in Mr. Franks "hot hockey stick" history class together. I say hot hockey stick because Mr. Franks had a sawed-off hockey stick he used to rattle the young minds of his class. And rattle he did. If you were out of line in class – slam – right on the desk in front of you. If you didn't do your homework – slam. He made us all wet our pants from time to time, that's for sure. Can't get away with that crap anymore.

Robby made me a cassette tape of two Cheap Trick albums and our rock and roll friendship was born that year. Over the years we grew as friends, becoming the best of. In fact, our circle of friends since high school has remained more or less intact, becoming the equivalent of a straight small town all-male review Sex in the City. Oh, the stories I could tell.

But I won't. So don't ask.

High school was a particularly poignant time for Robby and me. Not just because of the standard coming of age high school antics most of us experience, but because of two events: I went a little crazy and Robby broke his neck.

These are mutually exclusive, and although my mental instability was exacerbated by Robby's accident, they were still independent of one another with their own stories.

This post isn't about my end of days anxiety or about Robby's paralysis; it's about our friendship that has stood the test of sometimes volatile and dark times.

Spring break of our senior year, a group of the "guys" went to the coast for a day. The coast being Morro Bay, since growing up in Visalia nestled deep in the southeast corner of the Central Valley under the watchful Sierra Nevada meant the ocean was almost three hours away.

We wanted Robby to come with us, but he had a swim meet that he refused to miss (Robby was a swimmer and water polo player). Nobody blamed him; I wouldn't have missed a football game for anything.

When we returned that night from Morro Bay, we learned that Robby had an accident in the pool and broke his neck.

Paralyzed from the sternum down with limited mobility in his arms and hands, Robby adapted and has lived a full life in Chico since he moved there in 1989, which is where I've been for the weekend visiting (I miss Mama A and Baby B, though!).

Every year the guys and I come to Chico at least one or two times to visit. To relive the glory days and share the treasure trove of golden memories friendship has forged since. (No, I can't tell you a thing.)

And through all the falling outs and falling downs and triumphs and laughter and tears and darkness and light – Robby and I remain the best of friends unconditionally.

I hope that Baby B will have a friend like Robby someday, and that is why I'm proud to say Robby will be the Godfather of Baby B.

Time stand still

I'm not looking back

But I want to look around me now

Time stand still

See more of the people and the places that surround me now

Freeze this moment a little bit longer

Make each sensation a little bit stronger

Experience slips away...

--Neil Peart