Did everyone at some point in time when they were kiddos get their ass handed to them on a paddle by their parents? My Mom's weapon of choice was a wooden spoon. And, of course, I would run away wailing and flailing my arms and legs all over the place, screaming child abuse and swearing I would NEVER spank my children..when I grew up. Well, now I am a Mother. And I have an "all boy" 2 year old son who every now and again feels the sting of my palm. And it works. He straightens up, and knows I mean business. At what point was it decided that a spanking was abuse? Granted, there will always be the people with problems who like to take it a step further and step over the line of discipline, and ends up actually abusing the child. But - perhaps it is just my raising - but if a kid is disrespectful, out of line, or making a scene, I would say it is time for a swift kick in the butt. Apparently David Nixon, the recent principal in a South Carolina school full of troublesome, agrees.

Before Nixon took over "John C," student behavior had gotten so bad that one teacher described it as "chaos." She eventually quit in disgust, pulled her own child from the school, and moved to a different one 45 minutes away. John C is located in a rural stretch of South Carolina near the Georgia border where all but one of the major textile plants have closed, and where the leading local employer is the school system. Nearly 90 percent of the kids at John C live below the poverty line. When Nixon went to his first PTO meeting, only about a dozen parents showed up at a school with 226 students. He still has trouble reaching many families by phone because they can't afford to put down a deposit on a landline. And yet Nixon has managed to turn John C around. It recently earned three statewide Palmetto awards, one for academic performance and two for overall improvement—the school's first such honors in its 35-year history. Not everyone agrees with his methods, but most parents and teachers will tell you he couldn't have pulled off such a turnaround without his wooden paddle.

Still, the mere fact that it works hasn't made spanking kids any easier for Nixon, who's no fire-breathing traditionalist. He's 31, a brownish-haired beanpole with a soft-spoken but determined manner. Married, with an 8-month-old daughter, he taught agriculture to high-school students for six years but had no prior administrative experience. He studied animal science at Clemson, served as state president of the Future Farmers of America, and raised 50 head of beef cattle on his ranch. In 2006, a family friend called about an opening at John C. The school, he heard, was "kind of in bad shape," but he took the job anyway.

Thirty minutes into his first day of school at John C, a father walked into Nixon's office and said, "I want to give you the authority to whip my son's butt." Nixon was surprised, but after he thought it over, he decided to give every parent the same option. The year before he arrived, students made more than 250 visits to the principal's office; order had to be restored. While suspensions take kids out of the classroom for days, paddling could be done in 15 minutes. "What are we here to do? Educate," Nixon says. "This way there's an immediate response, and the child is right back in the room learning." According to school statistics, referrals to the principal's office have dropped 80 percent since 2006. So far this school year, there's been fewer than 50. "I've had parents say 'thank you for doing this'," says fifth-grade teacher Devada Kimsey. "And look at the behavior charts now—there's nothing on them."

Corporal punishment is still legal in portions of 21 states, including South Carolina, but it is rarely practiced anymore. Most education scholars consider it abusive, helpful only in the short term and even predictive of future violence. "This is not a practice for the 21st century," says Nadine Block, executive director of the Center for Effective Discipline in Ohio. "Maybe for the 18th century. An atmosphere of fear is not going to increase learning. Maybe temporarily. But over time, it does not work."

Nixon's policy does not have universal support at John C. On the permission form he sends to parents about paddling, a few have checked "no." "I was spanked as a child," says Deniece Williams, 36, who has a son at John C. "I want to go a different route." The school's mental-health counselor, Heather Hatchett, is equally concerned. "I'm not crazy about it," she says. "A lot of these kids come from violent homes, and kids see this as another violent act." (Nixon winces when Hatchett's words are repeated to him.) Even Nixon's boss, Abbeville County superintendent Ivan Randolph, is unsettled by the practice. "One has to be extremely careful with this," he says. "If it's not administered properly, it could be abusive."

Yet the majority of parents see Nixon's paddle as a deterrent, not a weapon. (So what is it you're doing at home... exactly..?) "I agree with the policy," says Tim Rhodes, 42, who has two children at John C. "Kids know if they do something wrong, they are punished." In Fran Brown's first-grade class last month, a brown-haired boy spat on a fellow student. Miss Brown strode to her computer, drawing a loud "oooooh!" from the class. She typed an e-mail to Nixon, who came right away. "I don't think it's right for kids to take away from the instructed time," says Brown. After a conversation in Nixon's office, the child was paddled at home. Parents are given the option of spanking their child themselves; on rare occasions, they come to the school and use their own belts.

John C isn't as bustling as typical elementary schools. The hallways are hushed as kids move wordlessly between classes, lined up single-file on the right side of each hallway, though they do bop and sashay in muted, youthful excitement. A severe budget crunch means the school will almost certainly have to let some teachers go. Still, John C is in much better shape than the state's woefully underfunded schools from the 2005 PBS documentary "Corridor of Shame," or the Dillon, S.C., school President Obama cited as needing repairs to block out the sound of passing trains. John C, with its sliced tennis balls on the ends of chair and desk legs, is shopworn but pristine.

Nixon has instituted many reforms over the last three years, and he's leery of focusing too much on paddling as a "fix-all." "The best form of discipline," he says, "is praise." He brings pizza for classes that perform well on tests, and he's plastered the teacher's lounge with statistics on each student's performance. In March, he held a school pageant, where boys and girls dressed in their Sunday best and did twirls onstage, with hundreds of parents giggling and snapping pictures.

But all the improvements, says fifth-grade teacher Karen Bass, were built on Nixon's bedrock of discipline. Bass was the teacher who left with her child years earlier. She returned when an administrator told her, "You should come back. It's different now." Bass says she likes her job so much she doesn't use her vacation days. "I'm oh so very pleased," she says. "And I can say that with full confidence because I've been other places."

Kids at the school say the paddle definitely makes them think twice about acting up. Asked if he's afraid of it, second-grader Nathan Hoover says, "Yes! It really hurts." The policy, he explains, is three strikes and you're struck. "I know if I got [paddled at school]," Nathan says, "my mom would whip me, too." Hoover's mother says she would give Nixon permission to paddle her child—parents only get the form if their child commits a major offense—but she's relieved that corporal punishment is only a "last resort." "Some kids see too much of that at home," Hoover says. They're no longer seeing much of it anymore at John C. According to Nixon, the last time he paddled a student was more than a month ago: March 16, after a fourth-grader swore in the cafeteria. Corporal punishment, it would seem, has worked so well at John C that perhaps the need for it no longer exists. Given Nixon's ambivalence toward the practice—indeed, he would not even allow NEWSWEEK to photograph the paddle—could it be that he's already delivered his last whipping? "I hope so," he says. But he quickly adds that there will always be "new kids who need to learn the limits at school." And one way or another, Nixon will make sure they get the message.

the shadow of Plath.

I know this may be old news for those of us keeping up on such... but I have had the entire situation on my mind for some reason lately. Any Sylvia Plath fans out there? I used to chalk her up with the other "legends" who entered legendary status because of an untimely death... such as, in my opinion, Morrison from the Doors... and I will leave my examples at that so as not to offend any potential devotees out there. I changed my mind about Plath, however, after delving into her life a bit. Thought I would share a little time line of her life with you guys. Interesting to me, but if nothing else, puts my petty probs into perspective.

She was born October 27, 1932 in Boston, Massachusetts. She was the first child of Aurelia Schober and Otto Emil Plath. Three years after Sylvia was born, her brother Warren became her parent's second child. In 1936, the Plaths moved to Winthrop, Massachusetts, close to her mother's parents. Winthrop was also close by the Atlantic Ocean and Sylvia was fascinated by it. During this time, her father, Otto, was diagnosed with lung cancer but he refused to go to anymore doctors. Finally, in 1940, Otto died. Also in 1940, Plath's first poem and first drawing published in Boston newspapers.

Two years later, when Sylvia was almost 10 years old, the family moved away from the ocean- back inland to Wellesley, Massachusetts. In Wellesley, Plath and her brother started school at Marshall Perrin Grammar School. In 1944, Plath started Alica L. Phillips Junior High School and managed to maintain an "A" average. She also wrote poems for The Phillipian, the school's literary magazine. In 1947, Plath graduated from Phillips, and began her legacy of winning scholarships and awards- she won Honorable Mention in National Scholastic's Literary Contest, and is only student in the school's history to earn a sixth letter, as well as an Achievement Certificate from the Carnegie Institute.

In 1947, she also entered high school at Bradford High School. She graduated in 1950, receiving a full scholarship to Smith College. In August of that same year, Seventeen magazine published her short story, "And Summer Will Not Come Again," and The Christian Science Monitor published "Bitter Strawberries, " a poem. In 1953, Plath won the chance to be a guest editor at Mademoiselle magazine in New York. She spent the summer there and upon her return home in late July, she learned that she had been rejected from a writing class at Harvard summer school. She was already depressed and exhausted from New York, and the rejection made it worse. Her mother sought psychiatric help, but all it resulted in was a series of un-professional painful shock treatments. So finally, on August 24, 1953, she tried to commit suicide. She left a note saying she had gone for a walk and preceded to swallow a large number of sleeping pills and then crawled into a small space under her house. She was discovered three days later and rushed to a hospital. To recover, she spent five months at a private hospital called McLean's. This was paid for by Mrs. Olive Higgins Prouty, a generous benefactress of Plath. In 1950, Plath had won a scholarship from the Olive Higgins Prouty Fund and wrote her to express her thanks. Mrs. Prouty responded and continued to be an adviser and friend of Plath throughout college. This period of her life, from New York to the end of her stay in the private hospital, Plath recorded in her book, The Bell Jar.

In 1954, Plath won several poetry contests at Smith College and wrote her honor's thesis on 1955 Dostoevsky's use of "doubles" in two of his novels. She graduated summa laude of her class and ended up winning yet another scholarship-this time to Cambridge University, England. At Cambridge, she continued to have great academic success and in March of 1956, she met Ted Hughes, the British poet. Four months later, on June 16, 1956, Hughes and Plath were married. The newlyweds spent their honeymoon at Benidorm, a small fishing village in southern Spain. In 1957, the couple moved to Massachusetts, where Plath taught English at her old college- Smith College. The next year, Sylvia and Ted moved once again-to Boston. Here Plath wrote and attended poetry classes at Boston University, which were taught by Robert Lowell.

They stayed in America until 1959, when they returned to London, England. The very next year Plath's first child was born. Her name was Frieda Rebecca Hughes. This same year, Plath published her first major work-a collection of poems called The Colossus and Other Poems. In 1961, Plath got pregnant again, but unfortunately had a miscarriage. After this, the family moved to Devon, England.

In 1962, Plath's first son was born- Nicholas Farrar Hughes. Unfortunately, this year was also the beginning of the couple's marital trouble. During the summer of 1962, Sylvia learned of Ted's adultery and they were separated. Plath took the children with her and moved to a flat in London. Here she started to write poems quickly and voluminously. In 1963, The Bell Jar was published under the pseudonym, Victoria Lucas. However, ill health was starting to effect Plath and she said, "I am fighting now, against odds and alone." Although she seemed to be recovering, she even said, "The next five years of my life look heavenly," the "odds" must have overwhelmed her. Sylvia Plath lived just long enough to see The Bell Jar in print...

On February 11, 1963, after carefully sealing the kitchen so her children would not be harmed, Sylvia Plath took a bottle of sleeping pills and stuck her head in a gas oven. Her downstairs neighbor, knocked out by gas seeping through the floor, believed she had intended him to rescue her when he smelled the gas.

Almost from the day she died, readers and scholars have been faced with the enigma of her suicide in addition to being perplexed and thwarted by her mental illness. Sylvia Plath's unabridged journals lend credence to a theory that she not only suffered from mental illness (probably bipolar disorder) but also from severe PMS. (Seriously... that is an actual diagnosis. Take notes ladies...)

Not long to follow, Ted's mistress Assia Wevill also committed suicide by gassing not only herself, but the young daughter they had together. It is assumed she created a "copy cat" suicide after Ted broke off their affair.

According to the AFP: "Unmarried and childless, the 47-year-old Hughes had recently left his teaching post at the University of Alaska-Fairbanks' school of fisheries and ocean sciences to make pottery in a home studio."

On March 16 of this year, Plath's son Nicholas commited suicide by hanging himself from his home. His suicide occurs 46 years after his mother's. If you do the math, you can see he was barely even one when his mom stuck her head in the oven, leaving behind a poetic legacy for both scholars and artsy wannabes to marvel over for centuries. Left behind is Frieda, daughter and sister, who has witnessed the suicide of her mother at the age of 3, the death of her father from cancer, and recently her last link to the Plath family, her brother. She is a painter and

Poppies in October

Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly--

A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for by sky

Palely and flamily

igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.

O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.

--Sylvia Plath

Narcissism Epidemic

This is an AMAAAAZING article - empowering to all ladies. Perhaps even to that handful of charismatic Y-chromosomes out there worried about their sisters and future daughters.

Coincidentally, I have been working on a similar idea for an outside class. This stole all kinds of my thunder. But, it is written better than what I would have come up with - even if it is written in complex form with "deep" vocabulary.. (that, Mr. Wascovich, is for you... ahem.) It is discussing the narcissism epidemic that has blanketed the youth, and how everyone is so focused on being "special" at whatever cost, and in turn cheapening the meaning of whatever special is all together.

Growing up, my literary heroines were those who, like me, struggled to be good. A strong-willed (and loud) child, I craved examples of unruly knuckleheads tethered to a loving family that encouraged us to be our best selves despite our natural inclinations. Precocious but naive, I thought of myself as an ugly duckling—misunderstood in my youth but destined for a beauty and stature completely impossible for my loved ones to comprehend. I shudder to think what a monster I would have become in the modern child-rearing era. Gorged on a diet of grade inflation, constant praise and materialistic entitlement, I probably would have succumbed to a life of heedless self- indulgence.

Perhaps, one day, we will say that the recession saved us from a parenting ethos that churns out ego-addled spoiled brats. And though it is too soon to tell if our economic free fall will cure America of its sense of economic privilege, it has made it much harder to get the money together to give our kids six-figure sweet-16 parties and plastic surgery for graduation presents, all in the name of "self esteem." And that's a good thing, because as Jean Twenge and W. Keith Campbell point out in their excellent book "The Narcissism Epidemic," released last week, we've built up the confidence of our kids, but in that process, we've created a generation of hot-house flowers puffed with a disproportionate sense of self-worth (the definition of narcissism) and without the resiliency skills they need when Mommy and Daddy can't fix something.

Indeed, when Twenge addressed students at Southern Connecticut State University a couple weeks back, their generation's narcissism was taken as a given by her audience. The fact that nearly 10 percent of 20-somethings have already experienced symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder, compared with just over 3 percent of the 65-and-over set? Not surprising. That 30 percent of college students agree with the statement: "If I show up to every class, I deserve at least a B"? Didn't get much of a rise either. When they're faced with the straight-out question—do you agree with this research, that you guys are the most narcissistic generation ever—there are uniform head nods and knowing grins to each other. "At the end of the day I love me and I don't think that's wrong," says Sharise Tucker, a 21-year-old senior at Southern Connecticut State, a self-professed narcissist. "I don't think it's a problem, having most people love themselves. I love me."

But as Twenge goes on to illustrate, all that narcissism is a problem that can range from the discourteous—residential advisers at Southern lament students disregarding curfews, playing dance music until 3 a.m., demanding new room assignments at a moment's notice and failing to understand why professors won't let them make up an exam they were too hung over to take—to the disastrous—failed marriages, abusive working environments and billion-dollar Ponzi schemes. Seems that the flip side of all that confidence isn't prodigious success but antisocial behavior.

Armed with a steady influx of trophies just for showing up, "I Am Special" coloring books and princess parties, it is hard for kids to understand why an abundance of ego might be bad for them. Hot off their own rebellions in the late '60s, my parents struggled to give me the freedom to be me while also teaching me generosity, compassion and humility. I didn't make it easy on them. I was the kind of kid who threatened to drink Drano if asked to load the dishwasher. "Don't get cocky, kid," was the response from my dad when I declared my grades too good for my behavior to be monitored. "Pretty girls are a dime a dozen," my mother would remind me when I came up with the brilliant idea that school was getting in the way of my social life. My mom would also trot out fables to keep me in check. Ever read the original ending to Cinderella? The evil stepsisters get their eyes plucked out by pigeons and end up beggars. But it worked, mostly, and "Don't believe your own bulls––t" became my mantra. Of course, I still hate to be told what to do, dislike following rules and will waste hours trying to get out of the simplest household task; but hey, I'm a work in progress.

But no matter how you were raised, the handiest cure for narcissism used to be life. Whether through fate, circumstances or moral imperative, our culture kept hubris in check. Now, we encourage it. Pastors preach of a Jesus that wants us to be rich. The famously egocentric wide receiver Terrell Owens declares at a press conference that being labeled selfish is fine with him. Donald Trump names everything he owns after himself and calls his detractors "losers." We live in a world where everyone can be a star—if only on YouTube. The general sense among students on that New Haven campus is that with the world being such a competitive, cutthroat place, they have to be narcissists. Well, you may need a supersize ego to win "America's Next Top Model" or to justify your multimillion dollar bonus. But last I checked, most of our lives don't require all that attitude. Treating the whole world as if it works for you doesn't suggest you're special, it means you're an ass. As an antidote to a skyrocketing self-worth, Twenge recommends humility, evaluating yourself more accurately, mindfulness and putting others first. Such values may seem quaint, maybe even self-defeating, to those of us who think we're special, but trust me: it gets easier with practice.

HIV flop

So for those of you who caught it from previous blogs, I get pretty passionate during conversation concerning out war soldiers and veterans. This hit home for two reasons, one because my Dad is among the veterans and my brother is about to venture into the borders of Kabul and Pakistan so these things catch my eye... and two because just this morning I found out that my photo made the olympus america photo contest finals... and they are directly involved in the incident...

Three patients exposed to contaminated medical equipment at Veterans Affairs hospitals have tested positive for HIV, the agency said Friday.

The three cases included one positive HIV test reported earlier this month, but the VA didn’t identify the facility involved at the time.

The patients are among more than 10,000 getting tested because they were treated with endoscopic equipment that wasn’t properly sterilized and exposed them to other people’s bodily fluids... wow. That is devastating...

Vietnam veteran Samuel Mendes, 60, said he was surprised to learn of an HIV case linked to the Miami facility, where he had a colonoscopy. He was told he wasn’t among those at risk.

“I was hoping and expecting to not get anyone contaminated like that,” he said. “It’s probably a little worse than we thought.”

The VA also said there have been six positive tests for the hepatitis B virus and 19 positive tests for hepatitis C at the three locations.

There’s no way to prove patients were exposed to the viruses at its facilities, so says the agency...

“These are not necessarily linked to any endoscopy issues from out facilities and the evaluation continues,” the statement said.How many endoscopies would these patients get at one time? Are you kidding me?!

The VA has said it does not yet know if veterans treated with the same kind of equipment at its other 150 hospitals may have been exposed to the same mistake before the department had a nationwide safety training campaign.

An agency spokeswoman has said the mistake with the equipment was corrected nationwide by the time the campaign ended March 14. The problems discovered in December date back more than five years at the Murfreesboro and Miami hospitals.

The VA’s disclosure Friday was the department’s first comment since April 3, when the VA reported the one positive HIV test.

VA spokeswoman Katie Roberts has declined to provide any details on how widespread the problems might have been other than saying a review of the situation continues.

She said in an e-mail Friday that “there is a very small risk of harm to patients from the procedures at each site.” She said the HIV results “still need to be verified” in additional tests.

The VA statement shows the number of “potentially affected” patients totals 10,797, including 6,387 who had colonoscopies at Murfreesboro, 3,341 who had colonoscopies at Miami and 1,069 who were treated at the ear, nose and throat clinic at Augusta.

More than 5,400 patients, about half of those at risk, have been notified of their follow-up test results, the VA said.

The Friday statement said the VA is “continuing to notify individuals whose letters have been returned as undeliverable, and working with homeless coordinators to reach veterans with no known home address.”

The statement also said the VA has assigned more than 100 employees at the three locations to “ensure that affected veterans receive prompt testing and appropriate counseling.”

All three sites used endoscopic equipment made by Olympus American Inc., which has said in a statement it is helping the VA address problems with “inadvertently neglecting to appropriately reprocess a specific auxiliary water tube.”..holy crap. I just made finals in their contest... hmmmm. Ironic.

Charles Rollins, 62, who served three tours in Vietnam with the Navy from 1966 to 1969, said the news concerns him because he’s used the Augusta ear, nose and throat clinic several times.

“That’s terrible,” he said by phone as he socialized at an American Legion post in Augusta.

they published what?

So I decided to venture away from the normal New York Times news, and thought I would see what local newspapers are publishing. Then, I was reminded why I don't read the News Telegram....

"Massive stuffed gorilla flies out of truck"

John Bray is looking for the person who lost a massive gorilla on Blatnik Bridge in Duluth.

Bray says he was driving across the bridge Thursday afternoon when a huge stuffed brown stuffed animal flew off the truck in front of him. Bray says it flew up 50 feet and came down in the middle of the road.

He says he pulled over and traffic stopped. He then shoved it into the back of his sports utility vehicle and brought it to his office. He's a spokesman for the Department of Transportation.

Bray says it was a funny incident but someone could have been seriously hurt. He says the driver is required by law to have a load tied down, but he or she won't get a ticket.

Yea. It made the paper. yyyeeEEEEEHHHAAAaawwww!

Obama what?

While Obama was in Strasbourg, France, on the eve of a Nato summit meeting there, he was also up for two British Book Awards in London. On Friday his “Dreams From My Father” took the biography prize, but he lost author of the year — he had been shortlisted for “The Audacity of Hope” — to Aravind Adiga for his novel “The White Tiger,” which also won the Man Booker Prize last year. Other British Book Award winners included Kate Summerscale for her mystery “The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective,” best nonfiction book and book of the year; and Stephenie Meyer, for her “Twilight” series book “Breaking Dawn,” children’s book of the year.
I wonder how much he wrote himself, in all seriousness. It would be nice to know that during all of his shenanigans he had time to write it…
I also would love to know how much this award was weighed on the actual word of, as my dad calls him, Obie.

attack of the clones..

a day in the life of me....

half of it anyway.

Self struggles:
Do I take it or dish it back? Do I let it out or hold it in? Major inner struggles for the majority of mankind - emotional ventilation, sexual frustration, introverted vs extroverted anger, coping by giving in or coping by pretending it’s okay… a few of many.
So the question is...are you in pink, or are you in black? And are you happy being that color?




Wish my thumb drive asn't such a jerk - I had to convert the files to jpeg so it would read at the print shop. It muttled up the images a bit, lost alot of detail. Gotta do what ya gotta do I suppose... *grunt*