Is Equal Opportunity Just A Myth?

Is Equal Opportunity Just a Myth?
America claims to be dedicated to equal opportunity, yet equality is not sufficient in urban communities. These kids need more. We need to think about equity, not equality. It is not enough to hide them away. These are visions we should never forget. [[click below to link to full text]]
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In Amazing Grace: The lives of children and the conscience of a nation, Jonathan Kozol paints a vivid picture of the conditions in the poorest sections of New York City. During the early to mid 1990’s, Kozol made several visits to Mott Haven in the South Bronx. As he describes in Amazing Grace, the South Bronx is one of the most severely segregated and poorest Congressional Districts in the United States.

The members of this community have been segregated into a hell plagued with sickness, violence and despair. Kozol argues that this strategic placement serves to isolate the rich from the realities they have thrust upon their fellow man. New Yorkers do not stroll through the streets of Mott Haven, and taxicabs take no short cuts through Beekman Avenue. Many taxicabs will not even venture past East 96th Street. Out of sight is out of mind.

As I was reading Amazing Grace, I remember thinking back to my days living in Manhattan, coincidentally around the same time Kozol conducted his interviews in the South Bronx. I lived in what Kozol refers to as Manhattan’s “Liberal West Side,” an area that was undergoing rapid transformation and gentrification at the time Mayor Rudolph Giuliani took office.

There is no excuse for the conditions in which these people must live. No person should be forced into an apartment that has a higher ratio of cockroaches and rats than human beings.

In 1995, the American Sociological Association (ASA) held its annual conference in New York City. Prior to that meeting, they sent out a fact sheet that may be of interest to ASA members. In this sheet, they too described the same social conditions and asked their members to take note of the changes that occur at 96th Street. I can assure you that the conditions Kozol describes in his book were not exaggerated.

These children are desperately in need of the best schools, yet we give them the worst. They have few libraries, few safe havens, few doctors, and few role models. They have every reason to believe that they are throwaway children and we have certainly not shown them anything else. The social services we have provided are a bureaucratic nightmare. People in need are treated as sub-human, and made to feel ashamed of being poor.

These are among the sickest children in the world. Americans claim to be dedicated to the children and fool ourselves into believing that we are doing them a favor by providing them with medical care, public education, and public housing. Yet, the quality of their neighborhoods speaks volumes of our sentiment and intentions.

Shortly after Amazing Grace was published, managed care rapidly moved onto the New York scene. Around the same time, the Mayor announced he would be closing some of the hospitals that served the poorest of the poor because of financial problems associated with payment and large trauma departments.

Kozol makes the point that people could attempt to gain admissions at a better hospital than Bronx-Lebanon; yet, the privatization of Medicaid has now made this completely impossible. Further restrictions on medical care are inevitable as the result of Medicaid managed care. The law is not designed to protect these people, and this was made obvious in a recent conversation I had with a friend who practices medicine in New York.

My friend John works as a board certified trauma physician at a private hospital on the Upper East Side. The last black patient he treated at Beth Israel was famed rock singer Michael Jackson. I asked him if he ever gets any asthma patients in his ER. He knew immediately of whom I was speaking. “You mean the kids from the South Bronx?” he asked. He told me that they know better than to show up at Beth Israel. “But if they do?” I asked, and he replied, “We ship them back.”

This is the reality. The best doctors treat the wealthiest patients rather than the sickest. Schools educate the best students rather than the neediest. It is no wonder that these children perform poorly in school. By every measure, these children are destined for failure. Their home life is less than enchanting, and they do not benefit from enriched environments and educated parents.

Certainly, there are many dedicated parents who care about their children, but is that enough? When I was in school, children frequently asked the teacher, how will this help later in life. In my class, there was an unequivocal reply, but it could be argued that what children in the South Bronx need to learn couldn’t be taught in the classroom.

There is no doubt that the prevalence of violence in urban neighborhoods affects the ability of children to perform well in school. There is a large body of empirical evidence that demonstrates the effects of chronic stress on memory and the learning process. Rather than taking the children out of these communities, we have constructed prison like buildings for them to attend school. They routinely have gunfire drills reminding them that danger is never far behind.

Children cannot learn in this environment. This constant stress triggers “hot-memory.” Hot memory can be thought of as learning with your heart and not your mind. It is no wonder children perform inadequately in this environment.

It is bad enough that children live in such conditions, must we educate in them too? If we want underprivileged children to learn and grow spiritually, we must create an environment that allows their cool memory systems to take over.

It is only under these conditions that children will permit themselves to learn and develop their intellectual strengths. We have failed to create a safe home environment for urban children, but we can give serious thought to creating a school environment outside of the community so they have fewer fear-driven hours each day.

Studies consistently report lower academic achievement in urban neighborhoods like Mott Haven in the South Bronx. Children growing up in urban neighborhoods have a much higher incidence of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Most researchers believe this to be the direct result of living in stressed communities plagued with street crime and violence. The potential impact of chronic stress on academic performance and achievement is not known, but reading scores in neighborhoods like Mott Haven certainly seem to indicate some type of causal relationship. There is virtually no research on looking at the long-term effects of this inflated incidence of PTSD among urban populations. It is important to develop an understanding of the effects of fear on the academic performance of urban adolescents so we can begin to dismantle the myths regarding school performance and minority children.

Under these conditions, it is not surprising to learn that students also report pervasive feelings of fear and do not feel secure despite the added presence of security personnel on school grounds. For these students, school is a mere extension of the violent communities in which they live.

Since urban communities have many different sources of stress, it is important to examine how school policies contribute to the learning environment in public schools. The quick response has been to install weapons detectors and hire school security for urban schools. The presence of school security certainly affects the climate of American public schools by establishing school environments that focus more on student behavior than student achievement. Together, the urban public school and the community it serves are a constant reminder of the poor living conditions and social reality of urban America.

The secured environment is an indication of the roles students are expected to play later in life. This is a lesson they will not soon forget.

Kozol makes it quite clear that there are several exceptional children in this community. There are probably as many exceptional children here as every other community around the country, yet, so few of them will make it out of the South Bronx. Kozol is careful not to dwell on the exceptional cases of children who successfully navigate their way into the main stream of society. Kozol does this so we do not develop a false sense of hope. If we cling to a few exceptional cases, we may come to believe that what we are giving enough to children like
Anthony or Anabelle. Clearly, we can do more. Failure should be the exception—not the rule. Success should be the norm, and until it is, we should not give up hope for these children.

America claims to be dedicated to equal opportunity, yet equality is not sufficient in a community like Mott Haven. These kids need more. We need to think about equity, not equality. It is not enough to hide them away. These are visions we should never forget.

Welcome to America. The Wealthiest Nation in the World.

Reference: Amazing Grace: The lives of children and the conscience of a nation. (by Jonathan Kozol)

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1251493/is_equal_opportunity_just_a_myth_.html?cat=2

MESSENGERS OF PEACE NEEDS YOU!

This fall marked the beginning of one of the greatest tragedies in American history: Hurricane Katrina. This is further compounded by the potential devastation that awaits New Orleans residents when they return to the unknown losses that await them as Hurricane Gustav looms of the Gulf Coast and inches its way closer and closer to the Louisiana border.

Several years ago, I made an online statement that Nashvillians in need of benefits should apply "before the Louisiana people utilize whatever resources we have left." In retrospect, that statement seems crass and insensitive. Now that several years have passed, I would certainly blame this disgusting war as the main culprit of domestic waste. Unfortunately, I cannot turn back the hands of time, and that statement exists- floating around for all eternity in the magical world of cyberspace. All I can do now is try my best to explain what prompted that statement and hope that those who read my previous piece will also see this retraction.

I would like to take this opportunity to explain what prompted such an apparently callous, insensitive comment and set the record straight.

We live in a country that rallies together when faced with domestic and international crises. We open our hearts, our homes, and our wallets for disaster relief here and overseas. We also live in a world where smaller crises exist everyday albeit poverty, hunger or homelessness. Such domestic problems tend to be chronic in nature and often slip under the radar. The battle lines have been drawn and we lost. We are losing. With every day that passes the casualties grow to astronomical proportions. We failed.

After Katrina, Tennessee residents took in many refugees. The local papers printed countless ads offering shelter, financial assistance, and job opportunities to "Survivors of Katrina." After calling some of these people in response to their apparent act of altruism, I learned that these offers were only applicable to survivors of Katrina and not to local residents. I was angry.

I was angry because in the months before that devastating storm hit the Gulf Coast, there was an urgent call for people to open their homes to the 30,000 children and adolescents in desperate need of foster care. Children without a home. Children without a safety net. Our city did not respond. Our residents did not rise to the occasion and countless children continue to live in uncertain conditions without the necessities they need to thrive in this complicated, fragmented society.

After considerable thought, I came to the conclusion that the media and current policies that allow such unfortunate states of existence are partly to blame, but so too are the American people and the residents of this fine city that I like to think of as home. So why is it that we are so generous in times of urgent need by allowing pervasive states of poverty for our local residents and out children? Are they damaged goods? Are persons in poverty to blame for their circumstances? Are they too week? Are they somehow supposed to magically lift themselves out of the dark and somehow find the path into enlightenment of financial security? Is this the ultimate act of Social Darwinism where survival of the fittest means people who are fit to survive against all odds? Is it just a coincidence that the words indigent and indignant sound so similar?

As Hurricane Gustav approaches, I call upon our local residents to do more than just welcome the fleeing victims to open their hearts and their homes. I challenge each and every one of you to continue this charity after the storm has cleared. Even after the storm in the Gulf has moved past the coast and becomes another chapter in history, there is much to be done right here, right now. Do we accept the indignation of indigence and poverty with indifference? Or do we act?

We can do so much on the home front before our indifference creates a storm of domestic disaster. It is unfortunate for us that people have been too blind, too indifferent, and too complacent they do not even see such a storm brewing. But if you look, and if you listen, it is not hard to see how such a storm is brewing just beyond the horizon.

Elyssa Durant, Ed.M.

Chapter II: Older & Bolder

I first started posting this blog shortly after my 35th birthday. It was a gift to myself so I could live my life without being too scared that I might be discovered for being a little bit crazy, a little bit lonely, and making a whole lot of noise. I started by disclosing my deepest secrets, often exposing to my deepest fears. Initially I chose the motto: "Too old to start over, Too young to forget." Eventually that moniker evolved into something a little more challenging and inspirational, "Too old to start over, Too young to give up." Now that my 36th birthday is just around the corner (actually, more like an intersection) I plan to spend the last few days I have in this demographic bracket uncovering some the essays I have written that still need a little tweaking, and a whole lot of twacking! So be prepared to find a few typos, a few disconnected thoughts without making an obvious transition. Because I am naming the next phase of my life, you know, the "35 and up" phase, "Chapter II: A Little Bit Older, And a Whole Lot Bolder." I have enjoyed the feedback I have gotten from so many people from all walks of life who have written in response to something I have written. Women I have never met, from places I do not know. Women like Joy and Cat who encourage me to keep writing even if they disagree with some of my core values or excessive use of profanity. Women (or men) who have somehow managed to stumble across my writings in one of their many raw forms without realizing that just by contacting me, much of the fear and hesitation I once felt about publishing my collection of personal (and professional) essays have been replaced with a new found sense of pride and accomplishment. Fear and uncertainty have are quickly evolving into confidence and proliferation. Personally, professionally, and spiritually, I hope to continue "kicking ass and taking names," because at this point in my life, I may actually start doing that a little bit more. You will notice that I am reclaiming my name and uncovering the many aliases I have used over the years... I am done hiding. I'm am not perfect, and I will always struggle with my obsession to find just The Write Words, but I'm guessing it is probably good enough. Probably good enough so that most people will won't even notice if I forget to capitalize a proper noun or if I end a sentence with a preposition. So be it. You may also notice that I am reclaiming my name, and will be using try to cut down on the number of anonymous postings I listed under an alias because I was afraid I would be embarrassed if my work was not well received. I am ranges from the less obvious accounts I have created to maintain a bit of distance between myself and my classmates, peers, and colleagues, but in addition to "Miss Elyss" or "Lyssie D." I am even willing to admit that I have created so many login accounts and user names to post anonymously, that I have forgotten most of the passwords to access my own content. But I am rather proud of the creativity I demonstrated when I came up with two of my personal favorites, "I.M.Phobic" and "EyePhobic." I never could get into that whole IM thing, webcam or chat rooms! The way I see it, it is bad enough i need to put on clothes and make-up to leave the house-- I'll be damned if I have to put on make-up to send an e-mail! Yes, they were all me. They are a pert of me, because like so many women-- no... like so many people... I'm a little bit of everything... so for those of you who are listening and even to those of you who just wish I would shut the fuck up already; be careful what you wish for! The more content I create, the easier it becomes to let go... and the more I let go, the more I can heal. The more I can heal, the more I can focus on the academic issues that will always be my first and primary area of interest. However, it seems rather obvious to me now that the only way out is through. So, I will continue to write through the dark and hope that it I can become more present minded rather than being trapped by memories from the past. To Joy, Cat, TA James, and a few others, thanks so much for the gift. I hope I can make you proud! Goodnight to you all,

The curious can find anything and everything! I often wonder why it is so much easier for others to to get my information about me than it is for me to get about myself! I'm a digger. To be clear, that is "digger." I never use the "N" word, and I'm way too proud to marry for money. I'm a digger. I love information. I love to find, I love to collect it, but most of all, I love to use it. I love to dissect it, analyze it, formulate new questions and ponder the answers. I love the journey of natural inquiry... never knowing where my racing mind will take me, often surprised surprised by the answer, but always, always intrigued by the things I encounter along the way. So I set out to find the answer to one question, and instead I find myself asking a million more. It keeps me up at night, and allows me to avoid the day. My life is not unexamined, and my thought patterns may be far from typical, but the things I have learned along the way are by far the most intriguing and most unique. I am not afraid to ask questions, nor am I afraid that I don't have all the answers. As a digger, I do know that it is the path least taken: the creative, atypical mind; that is riddled with creativity, tangential thoughts and questions that often deliver the most interesting answers. But sometimes, it is the answers that deliver us to the most interesting questions. We often think that questions drive the inquiry-- at least that's what they tell us in school. To use the "Scientific Method." And of course, to never, ever color outside the lines. But aren't the best discoveries the ones we weren't searching for? The unexpected gift... the non-occasion. The beauty is in the every day. The challenge is in the unexpected. Call me crazy if you like (and many have) but I can assure you that there will come a day when all of that R.A.M. will come in handy. I am definitely asking the right questions... and maybe one day you will too. Finding my voice has allowed me to appreciate the silence. The hours between dusk and dawn where the rest of the world sleeps and I dig. I dig and I write. I fill the lonely hours with my innermost thoughts, and my very best friend. So as the rest of the world sleeps soundly, surrounded by loved ones in a sanctuary they call home, I fill myself with books, journals and information. Lots and lots of information. Who would have thought that loneliness can become a family in it's own right? It is always there and it is always familiar. That solitude can become our greatest companion and that strangers can become our best friends. I miss New York. I miss Dr. Stu. I miss Jefferey and I miss Todd. I miss my wild, brilliant friends plagued by curiosity, insomnia, and creativity. Hey boys-- guess what? I'm coming home! Let's go to hot and crusty at 3 a.m. when everything really is, yes, "hot and crusty!" Lets go the Internet cafe across from the Hello Kitty store and wake up old friends that actually dare to sleep when it is dark out??? WAKE-UP TODD! I've been calling you for hours! I have a joke to I want to tell you! New York, New York... The "City" that never sleeps? See I don't think it was ever really about the city, I think it is more about the anonymity. Someplace you can be yourself, and never worry about being judged by your in-bred hillbilly neighbors who are, in all honesty, much more focused on raising hell then raising children... To them, I am "strange." I am "weird." I am "Italian." or "Jewish" or "something!" because I talk really really fast! You are all wrong: I'm from New York! So while you sleep, I dig. I learn , I question, and I write. But I do it alone, and I'm starting not to like so much. So for all of you out there who are insomniacs: "writers," "consultants," "perpetually un and underemployed yet overqualified" computer geeks -- please enjoy my video blog below. I chose a few songs have keep me company at night. Just loud enough to drown out the drunk couple outside my window having yet another domestic dispute, but low enough so that the neighbors downstairs won't complain. Hopefully, you will know some of the selections that have kept me dancing in the living room into the wee hours of the morning, and can learn something about my favorite word if you are paying attention... You'll find all of my favorites in one place. So enjoy the trip my friends, it's getting early for some, but late for others, and I've got some shit to do before the world wakes up, because to quote John Cougar (or is it Melloncamp?) I Ain't Even Done With The Night! http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=04EA65F6BD91E91B DESCRIPTION: Everything from my favorite word to my favorite website. There's something in there for pretty much every mood-- songs to make you cry, videos to make you laugh. Political ads that make you sick and some that will give you chills-- but at least they make you feel!!! Finding my voice, and hearing those of strangers has given me the strength I needed to move on. So for so many of you who have contacted me lately, via the web, via your cell phone, or even by way of a nasty website-- stand tall and stand close because much like fear, courage also rubs off on you somehow when you are surrounded by the right people. So a big shout out, and a sincere word of thanks to all of you who have helped to find my voice once again and the courage to say whatever is on my mind... Say it loud, say it proud, just say it! I will not be ignored and I will not be forgotten. But guess what, Here Comes the Sun. I made it through night and now it's time to go, because that was SO yesterday! Thanks for giving, good luck forgetting! Elyssa D'Educrat / Elyssa D. Durant Nashville, Tennessee / New York, New York http://www.youtube.com/user/elyssadurant

Investing in the Ivy League - Vanderbilt University

Investing in the Ivy League - Vanderbilt University

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http://campusmixxer.com/Vanderbilt_University/news:investing-in-the-ivy-league/

A Brief History of Tennessee Healthcare

(For Historical Reference)



1996: Throughout the three year process of filing appeal after appeal after appeal, I acquired well over 1/4 million dollars in debt due to uninsured medical expenses and student loans. My life will never be the same. My heart will never be the same.

1999: Patient X: Corporate TennCare adjusted the prescription formulary over Memorial Day in 1999 and failed refused to offer a 3-day or 14-Day emergency supply as mandated by Grier.

2001: I have no other benefits. No Social Security checks to count on; no disability payments to pull together; no Medicare to meet me when the bottom falls out, again. This surely is not the first time my Medicaid has not come through as a reliable source of payment. It is not even the second or third time. It more like the eight or ninth, maybe more often than that. I only recently qualified for Medicaid some eight months ago! Since then, I have already acquired several thousand dollars in unpaid medical expenses that have made their way to collection agencies.

2002: Before my benefits were stabilized, learning to navigate the system consumed every waking moment of my life. I was unable to work or attend school on any substantial level and I am frightened to see at might happen if I were to stray from my established, stabilized, treatment plan. If I lose my benefits, will I still be able to work? To function? To be productive?

2005: The massive number of people being dis-enrolled or limited in their access to medical care and other social services will no doubt create significant anxiety, confusion, and chaos for everyone involved in the social service and health care industries.

2006: Without my current level of benefits, I simply do not function.

2007: I remember how difficult it was for me to obtain benefits when I first applied several years ago. I am deeply concerned about how the most recent decision to eradicate yet another class of TennCare / Medicaid recipients (the Daniels class that is made up of SSI recipients by way of a pending federal waiver) will affect the poor and disabled residents in Tennessee.

MAY 2008: And even though my life has become a living hell, I have almost learned to enjoy the sheer irony of it all... for someone with OCD and post-traumatic stress, this is truly a ridiculous little experiment.

JULY 2008: I am becoming increasingly inspired to just burn every last document I own, throw away my keys and my cell phone and take Spotty some place where we can live off the land, but I have come this far, and I am becoming rather skilled at expressing myself without an audience or the obsessive need to check every fact, throw, and typo for capitalization and perfection.

AUGUST 2008: So after all this-- now I face losing my health care once again? Where is the safety net? Where is the American Dream that I so diligently chased after for so many years? What was the point spending so much on an education that will never be utilized? I understand the how; I just don't understand why.

LAST MONTH: So for now... I write. Maybe later, I'll read. But if there is any justice left in this world, maybe someday, I'll actually live.

TODAY: Good-bye for now. I need a break.