A Happy Evening

Its six levels, large central atrium, and limited exits make the San Francisco Gift Center an excellent secure site for a teen party. San Mateo High School held its junior / senior prom last night, and the participants seemed to enjoy themselves more than I remember my classmates doing in 197X.

Most attendees arrived in pairs, but even the singles appeared to have a good time. Hundreds of kids crowded the floor, hopping, gyrating, screaming--the distinction between a dance and a concert seems to have blurred over the years. Yes, there were wallflowers who watched from the sidelines, and most were males.

Since maybe WWII it’s been true that more women then men want to dance, and one generational difference is that these high school girls don’t wait to be asked and don’t bother to look for a partner either. They just leap out onto the floor solo or with a girlfriend.

The crowd loosened up as the night wore on, and the fun was of the good, clean variety. Another difference between proms then and now: this one had over 20 adult chaperones, a breathalyzer test at the entrance, and both uniformed and plainclothes security. Regrettable but necessary precautions that made for a happy evening.

Top: Even the chaperones look real young to me.
Bottom: Halfway through the night.

SMHS Production of Peter Pan

The San Mateo High School players put on an excellent production of Peter Pan last weekend. Most high schools have but a few shining stars, but SMHS is blessed with over two dozen kids whose musical and terpsichorean skills belie their tender years. Perhaps it’s the “American Idol” world we live in, or drama director Brad Friedman’s 17-year leadership, or the virtuous feedback loop that makes most of the talented students want to go to his school, but Peter Pan seemed to these eyes and ears to be much superior to the Finian’s Rainbow that I participated in a generation ago, and my high school’s program was considered to be a pretty good one.

Peter Pan had “wow” moments---when Peter and the Darling family flew over the stage at the end of Act I, the marathon dance numbers when the Lost Boys, pirates, and Indians were all on stage—and quiet moments with just a song and a spotlight. Bravo!

Peter Pan has three more showings—Friday, Feb. 6th 8 p.m., Saturday, Feb. 7th 8 p.m., and Sunday, Feb 9th 2 p.m. Adult tickets are $15, and students or seniors are $10.

To Honor A Hero

After the game (previous post below) we retired to the San Mateo High quadrangle, where the class of 1957 hosted a barbecue for all comers. But the occasion was much more than a 50th reunion. We were there to witness the presentation of a wrought iron bench to honor '57 graduate Paul Foster.

The high school choir sang an a capella rendition of the Star Spangled Banner as we stood at attention. Poised and harmonious, the choir with their perfect intonation hushed the crowd. As the rains came, speaker after speaker rose to reminisce about Paul Foster. A Marine honor guard stood stoically through the downpour, and none of us dared do less. Paul was a quiet youth who grew up a few miles from San Mateo High. He had a mischievous streak with his friends but was shy around girls. After high school he enlisted in the Marines and went to Vietnam.

[From his citation]
In the early morning hours the 2d Battalion was occupying a defensive position which protected a bridge on the road leading from Con Thien to Cam Lo. Suddenly, the marines' position came under a heavy volume of mortar and artillery fire, followed by an aggressive enemy ground assault. In the ensuing engagement, the hostile force penetrated the perimeter and brought a heavy concentration of small arms, automatic weapons, and rocket fire to bear on the battalion command post. Although his position in the fire support coordination center was dangerously exposed to enemy fire and he was wounded when an enemy hand grenade exploded near his position, Sgt. Foster resolutely continued to direct accurate mortar and artillery fire on the advancing North Vietnamese troops.

As the attack continued, a hand grenade landed in the midst of Sgt. Foster and his 5 companions. Realizing the danger, he shouted a warning, threw his armored vest over the grenade, and unhesitatingly placed his body over the armored vest. When the grenade exploded, Sgt. Foster absorbed the entire blast with his body and was mortally wounded. His heroic actions undoubtedly saved his comrades from further injury or possible death.

Sgt. Foster's courage, extraordinary heroism, and unfaltering devotion to duty reflected great credit upon himself and the Marine Corps and upheld the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.

Paul Foster was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor in 1969.

Ted Seweloh and Principal Yvonne Shiu unveil the 1957 class gift.

Little Big Game, 2007

Little Big Game

One drawback of globalization is the paving over of regional distinctions. WalMart demolishes Mom-and-Pop grocery stores, IHOP closes the corner diner, and Borders makes the independent bookseller a fading memory.

A more insidious phenomenon is the derogation of the local hero. In every area of endeavor the best in the world, maybe the best there ever was, is but a mouseclick away. Why should we attend a cello recital when we can tune in to Yo-Yo Ma? Shooting par golf doesn’t mean much when we can watch Tiger regularly belt 300-yard drives.

High school football was “the” weekend event before the NFL blanketed the country with live telecasts. Some high school games in my hometown attracted sellouts of 25,000 at the old stadium. It was also a time when everyone watched only three channels on TV; the old gang has broken up and we’ll never assemble those crowds or that passion again.

At the little big game last Saturday between the Burlingame Panthers and the San Mateo Bearcats a noisy gathering of about 2,000 students, alumni, and parents cheered the combatants. Burlingame High won easily, 42-10, on San Mateo’s home field, but neither team was going to the playoffs and it was difficult for an uninterested parent to be invested in the outcome.

Halftime at the Little Big Game

I asked the youngster how he felt about the game, given the Bearcats’ shellacking and jeers from the Panthers’ rooting section. He was hoarse from cheering and smiled. He had enjoyed the camaraderie and knew that a high school football game wasn’t a matter of life and death. Youthful passion can be wonderful, but perspective is better. Maybe he’s grown up a bit since the last time. © 2007 Stephen Yuen

Johnny Can't Read But He Can Graduate

At the open house the youngster’s teachers were effusive. “It’s a joy to have him in the class.” That’s what they say when a student beats low expectations. Yale and Stanford are not in his future, but we’re pleased because his future is much improved . He’s been in special education all his life, but he was able to pass half of California’s high school exit exam last year without accommodations. He says he wants to go to college, and we’ve started to look into programs designed for students with special needs.

Special education, by the way, is (another) government program that’s filled with perverse incentives. In the most recent article in its series, The Wall Street Journal covers the phenomenon of schools allowing special ed students to graduate without the requisite knowledge or skills. Parents are

disappointed not because their children are failing, but because they're passing without learning. These families complain that schools give their children an easy academic ride through regular-education classes, undermining a new era of higher expectations for the 14% of U.S. students who are in special education.

What’s not stated clearly in the article is that when a special ed student receives a regular diploma he no longer qualifies for government benefits. If our student were to fail the exit exam, he will receive a high school “certificate of attendance”, under which he can still qualify for benefits and go to college. But if he passes, he will be cut off, and we will have to bear the cost of his therapy and accommodations. We’ll support our student to fulfill his dream of graduating with the regular kids, but I can see why other parents would be conflicted with many thousands of dollars at stake.

© 2007 Stephen Yuen

Ms. B taught French to our older son as well.

[See here for a post on an earlier open house.]

Open House

The local high school’s façade looks clean and colorful after the multi-year earthquake retrofit and the renovations that were partially funded by well-heeled alumni. Of course, what goes on within school walls is much more important than how it looks from the outside.

Last night we went to the open house and visited with our sophomore’s teachers. Although he has average grades, he tries hard, they said, and is curious, polite, and motivated. [We identified ourselves again: were they talking about our student?] One teacher said that some kids are so uninterested in the proceedings that they race through multiple-choice exams, circling answers randomly. Cliques rule, and social interactions in the hallways can be cruel, almost abusive.

Although per-pupil spending in our district is high, there is never enough money at the ground level where the learning occurs. Extra-curricular activities were slashed long ago. Teachers were laid off, and more layoffs are expected this fall. Despite all they have to contend with, the teachers we met were energetic, enthusiastic, and evinced genuine interest in education.

Given the multiple problems they face, the multiple demands we make, and the multiple skills they need to have, the instructors are woefully underpaid. I say this from the perspective of someone who has dealt with many people at various levels in business and the professions; every teacher we met could be making more doing something else. (I’m most certainly not an advocate for mandated job-equivalency compensation.) But we should count our blessings, too; our school isn’t an inner-city school, where the problems are even worse.

We walked over to the gym to talk to the volunteer organizations. One of the leaders of the charitable foundation was a fellow that I had worked with over twenty years ago. I was pleased to see that he’s done well for himself; circumstances were harsh when I last saw him. We’ve both reached the age where we should give something back. The young teachers we met have started already. © 2007 Stephen Yuen