Whenever anyone asks me if 180 days per year in school are enough, I answer by relating my high school experience. I was required to take American History. The teacher never got us to World War II.
This sums up my opinion of the public school system, both when I was a prisoner of it and now. The system is a failure. I can claim that is a failure because there hasn’t been a definition of a proper education since the one-room schools closed down—the three Rs as it were.
Where did the magical 180 days of classroom instruction come from? Some folks believe that farm families in the olden days demanded that their children go to school for not more than 180 days because they needed the kids to work the farm in summer. The 180-day rule has been around so long that other people believe it came from divine guidance. As in: Noah built the ark, and then it rained for 180 days.
You can teach Algebra in 180 days. You cannot teach American History in 180 days. You can teach Civics in 180 days. You cannot teach American Literature or English Literature in 180 days. You can teach an introductory course in biology, chemistry or physics in 180 days. You cannot teach Writing in 180 days.
Schools have become babysitters. In addition to providing free day-care, schools provide breakfast and lunch. Who expects lazy parents to get up an hour early and fix breakfast or pack lunch boxes?
Schools have become sports complexes. Schools have an obligation to teach physical education and offer daily exercise periods to all students. But the system has gone way beyond its charge. The system spends millions of dollars per year to field teams in most sports. Meanwhile, nearly one-fourth of our students are obese come graduation day.
Schools are inept when it comes to preventing dropouts. The attitude of school administrators towards dropouts is “so what.” Administrators don’t want students in school who pull the averages down. So what if dropouts cost society a fortune later on.
Schools have given up trying to prevent cheating. Cheating is rampant. But cheating, via the resulting passing grades, makes school administrators look better in those “No Child Left Behind” reports.
Schools have given in to grade inflation. There’s no way that so many students should make the honor roll as they now do. There’s no way that a school should have several 4.0 GPA graduating seniors all selected as class valedictorians. Unless, of course, you inject grade inflation into the system.
When it comes to grade inflation, never forget former Governor Bob Wise and his PROMISE scholarship. The PROMISE scholarship is a financial entitlement, and West Virginia teachers aren’t going to deny a “C” student that entitlement. Bob Wise did more to increase the number of “B” students than he’ll ever know.
My heart goes out to mentally challenged students. But the notion that all children can be mainstreamed in the public schools is a costly fantasy.
The school system has no clear mission. Schools are trying to be all things to all people and thus, serve no one well. If our schools were soup kitchens, the broth would be so thin that it would remind you of Moe, Larry and Curly pouring hot water through a rubber chicken. Until we define what a student should learn in each year of schooling, then we can’t know whether 180 days of schooling is too much, too little, or just right.
Given our current assembly of legislators, they will probably fine tune the 180-day rule by mandating that history teachers begin with World War II and then teach American History backwards. Or in the alternative, they might have teachers skip colonial history altogether and begin with Paul Revere’s ride.
In the past decade, Finland’s public schools have consistently ranked as the best in the world. Why? Because Finland has defined a “proper education” for the 21st century, and the schools teach to that standard.
Helsinki is Europe’s snowiest capitol city, averaging 101 snow days each winter. The difference between Finland and West Virginia is not measured in snow days, however. The Finns believe that getting an education is their most important endeavor. As such, their kids will ski to school if they have to.
In case you were wondering, Finnish students attend school 190 days from mid-August to the end of May. The school term includes holiday breaks as well as a week-long spring break.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Ignorance of Human Nature Is Criminal
The problem of prison overcrowding is not going away anytime soon. If anything, it probably will get worse because government ignores human nature when enacting laws.
Moses began with 10 laws. Since then, governments have written 10 zillion laws. In the beginning, it was easy for all people to comprehend the prohibition against coveting thy neighbor's donkey. But increasingly, laws have become more complex and sometimes almost impossible to obey.
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency recently declared carbon dioxide a pollutant. If you breathe, you pollute the atmosphere; you are a lawbreaker. If past is prologue, the next law will be: Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's carbon credits. But you will covet thy neighbor's carbon credits given the alternative.
Most people would never rob a bank. Banks are a safe place to keep money because of this common trait, not because of federal and state laws against bank robbery.
Jaywalking is a misdemeanor in every city, but only because architects and engineers ignore pedestrian habits and design streets and building lots in rectangles. Humans triangulate and will jaywalk as surely as they breathe.
Although the U.S. Food and Drug Administration has not declared swine unclean, the agency nevertheless writes dietary laws. Trans fat is now "unclean."
There are so many laws, a citizen cannot help but be a lawbreaker. We have gone beyond unlawfully removing mattress tags. For example, if the EPA monitored the chemicals that you routinely pour down your sink, you'd probably be in jail by year's end.
During the last century, laws controlling alcohol and drug use mushroomed. Not surprisingly, incarcerations for violating those laws also have mushroomed. This was entirely predictable.
In 1899, Thorstein Veblen wrote "The Theory of the Leisure Class" and had this to say about drinking and drug use in the chapter titled "Conspicuous Consumption": "Drunkenness and the other pathological consequences of the free use of [intoxicating beverages and narcotics] therefore tend in their turn to become honorific, as being a mark [...] of the superior status of those who are able to afford the indulgence."
In 1899, the free use of narcotics was considered an indulgence, a pleasure enjoyed by the leisure class as a measure of their status. So what caused drug cases to clog court calendars a century later?
Every law ever written to control the consumption of intoxicating beverages and narcotics has had the opposite effect.
As Veblen explains, restricting stimulants and making them more expensive only increases the common man's desire to consume them.
We will always have to live with crimes of passion. Neither law nor any threat of jail is going to dissuade a jealous husband in a moment of passion from shooting his wife's lover.
There are, of course, criminals who need to be locked up forever. Pathological killers fit this category. They cannot be reformed, at least not with our present understanding of how the mind works. But does it make sense to lock up the jealous husband in a maximum-security prison that should be reserved for pathological criminals?
According to a Pew Center report last year, 1 percent of American adults are behind bars. And 7.3 million adults (one of every 31) are in the penal system (in jail, on parole or on probation.)
In their zeal to enact more and more punitive laws, legislators have guaranteed that prisons will be overfilled. The courts have abetted the lawmakers admirably; our robed judges meekly complain as they hand out mandatory sentences. When you replace "let the punishment fit the crime" with rigid sentencing guidelines, is it any wonder why we can't build prisons fast enough?
Government always thinks it can solve problems by demanding more, not less. In this case, it wants more police, more lawyers, more laws, more courts, more prisons, more guards and more time behind bars.
I am most disturbed by politicians who proudly crow that they have appropriated funds to build a new prison and then tell us that new prisons are economic development projects. Prisons, they gloat, create construction jobs in the short run and correctional jobs for the long term. Hence, prisons are a business model.
This is how far we have fallen. In a nation founded on the principles of individual liberty, democracy and capitalism, we thirst to lock people in cages and have the audacity to call it economic development.
How pathetic is that?
Moses began with 10 laws. Since then, governments have written 10 zillion laws. In the beginning, it was easy for all people to comprehend the prohibition against coveting thy neighbor's donkey. But increasingly, laws have become more complex and sometimes almost impossible to obey.
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency recently declared carbon dioxide a pollutant. If you breathe, you pollute the atmosphere; you are a lawbreaker. If past is prologue, the next law will be: Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's carbon credits. But you will covet thy neighbor's carbon credits given the alternative.
Most people would never rob a bank. Banks are a safe place to keep money because of this common trait, not because of federal and state laws against bank robbery.
Jaywalking is a misdemeanor in every city, but only because architects and engineers ignore pedestrian habits and design streets and building lots in rectangles. Humans triangulate and will jaywalk as surely as they breathe.
Although the U.S. Food and Drug Administration has not declared swine unclean, the agency nevertheless writes dietary laws. Trans fat is now "unclean."
There are so many laws, a citizen cannot help but be a lawbreaker. We have gone beyond unlawfully removing mattress tags. For example, if the EPA monitored the chemicals that you routinely pour down your sink, you'd probably be in jail by year's end.
During the last century, laws controlling alcohol and drug use mushroomed. Not surprisingly, incarcerations for violating those laws also have mushroomed. This was entirely predictable.
In 1899, Thorstein Veblen wrote "The Theory of the Leisure Class" and had this to say about drinking and drug use in the chapter titled "Conspicuous Consumption": "Drunkenness and the other pathological consequences of the free use of [intoxicating beverages and narcotics] therefore tend in their turn to become honorific, as being a mark [...] of the superior status of those who are able to afford the indulgence."
In 1899, the free use of narcotics was considered an indulgence, a pleasure enjoyed by the leisure class as a measure of their status. So what caused drug cases to clog court calendars a century later?
Every law ever written to control the consumption of intoxicating beverages and narcotics has had the opposite effect.
As Veblen explains, restricting stimulants and making them more expensive only increases the common man's desire to consume them.
We will always have to live with crimes of passion. Neither law nor any threat of jail is going to dissuade a jealous husband in a moment of passion from shooting his wife's lover.
There are, of course, criminals who need to be locked up forever. Pathological killers fit this category. They cannot be reformed, at least not with our present understanding of how the mind works. But does it make sense to lock up the jealous husband in a maximum-security prison that should be reserved for pathological criminals?
According to a Pew Center report last year, 1 percent of American adults are behind bars. And 7.3 million adults (one of every 31) are in the penal system (in jail, on parole or on probation.)
In their zeal to enact more and more punitive laws, legislators have guaranteed that prisons will be overfilled. The courts have abetted the lawmakers admirably; our robed judges meekly complain as they hand out mandatory sentences. When you replace "let the punishment fit the crime" with rigid sentencing guidelines, is it any wonder why we can't build prisons fast enough?
Government always thinks it can solve problems by demanding more, not less. In this case, it wants more police, more lawyers, more laws, more courts, more prisons, more guards and more time behind bars.
I am most disturbed by politicians who proudly crow that they have appropriated funds to build a new prison and then tell us that new prisons are economic development projects. Prisons, they gloat, create construction jobs in the short run and correctional jobs for the long term. Hence, prisons are a business model.
This is how far we have fallen. In a nation founded on the principles of individual liberty, democracy and capitalism, we thirst to lock people in cages and have the audacity to call it economic development.
How pathetic is that?
Friday, January 15, 2010
NCAA Misses the Point in Caring for Injured Athletes
For four minutes, it looked like Texas was going to stomp Alabama in the BCS championship game. Then, Bama’s Marcell Dareus tackled Colt McCoy, the Longhorns’ star quarterback, and the contest was over.
McCoy was sidelined by a pinched nerve causing his right arm to go completely numb. Dareus told reporters after the game that his neck was still sore from tackling McCoy. The injuries surprised even the announcers because the tackle looked pretty tame. Watching the replay, it looked like Colt McCoy’s shoulder pad cushioned the blow to both players.
When horrifying moments like this occur during televised football games, the announcers are instructed to wax philosophic during interludes. You can tell when this happens because the announcers use real verbs, not the ones they have invented to describe play-by-play action.
The use of real verbs lends gravitas to tone down their manic cheerleading. For example, the player whom they just made fun of for getting “de-cleated” is, after his season-ending injury, “a good student who enjoys visiting war veterans in the hospital.” (And there is nary a whisper about the Candystriper he allegedly knocked up on one of those visits.)
During such an interlude in the Texas-Alabama game, the announcers recalled Oklahoma quarterback Sam Bradford’s season-ending shoulder injury. Then they mentioned Florida quarterback Tim Tebow’s season-interrupting concussion. These two young men are former Heisman Trophy winners.
Colt McCoy was edged out for the 2009 Heisman by Bama’s Mark Ingram. But for the moment, Brent Musburger and Kirk Herbstreit elevated Colt McCoy to the pantheon of wounded Heisman winners.
Not too long after this moment of glib gravitas, a shocking graphic flashed before my eyes. It was a chart detailing the head coaches’ pay. Texas coach Mack Brown is paid $5 million per year. Alabama’s Nick Saban is paid $3.9 million per year. If Texas had won, Mack Brown would have gotten a $450,000 bonus. Saban got paid $400,000 for the win.
At the end of the game, one thing could be said for certain. Neither Mack Brown nor Nick Saban risked injury to earn his preposterous salary. The injuries were borne by their unpaid players. And many of those lads will face complications for the rest of their lives for “leaving it on the field.”
A century ago, the United States accepted that workers should have a reasonable expectation of an injury-free workplace. States adopted worker compensation insurance plans, and the concept of no-fault insurance for workplace injuries took hold.
College football is a big business; it is not a playground sport where the true amateur plays. You know it’s a big business when West Virginia University can afford to pay its head football coach a million dollars per year in salary and expenses.
The NCAA has rigged the college farm team system to perfection. By pretending that collegiate sports are all about the amateur athlete, then colleges and universities can avoid the niceties of paying athletes or providing them with workers’ compensation and disability coverage.
We are beginning to learn that concussions take their toll later in life. I hope that Pat White and Jarrett Brown, both quarterbaks at WVU, never suffer from their college football concussions. But the evidence at hand suggests that their golden years may not be so golden.
WVU linebacker Reed Williams sacrificed his shoulders for college football. Who will pay for his arthritis medicine in 2050? Likewise for the women, who pays for former basketball player Meg Bulger’s future knee replacement?
Honestly, I think the Romans had more respect for the wellbeing of their gladiators than the NCAA does for amateur athletes. But I am being unfair. The Coliseum in Rome never had a television contract.
Pat White’s season-interrupting concussion serves to illustrate my point. When he returned to the field, much was made of the special helmet he was wearing. His new helmet was designed to protect him from another head injury.
Why wasn’t Pat White wearing the best helmet in the first place? How does a coach look Pat White in the eye and say, “After you’ve suffered a doozy of a concussion, then we’ll buy you a really good helmet!”
Someday, an injured player will sue his or her university, and the judge will rule (correctly, I believe) that the school is the player’s de facto employer. When coaches make seven figures, and Wyoming wins a bowl game ($750,000 payout), it’s hard to pretend that we still live in the days of Knute Rockne winning one for the Gipper.
Last season, a thousand college athletes left something on the field, and all they got were numbered T-shirts.
McCoy was sidelined by a pinched nerve causing his right arm to go completely numb. Dareus told reporters after the game that his neck was still sore from tackling McCoy. The injuries surprised even the announcers because the tackle looked pretty tame. Watching the replay, it looked like Colt McCoy’s shoulder pad cushioned the blow to both players.
When horrifying moments like this occur during televised football games, the announcers are instructed to wax philosophic during interludes. You can tell when this happens because the announcers use real verbs, not the ones they have invented to describe play-by-play action.
The use of real verbs lends gravitas to tone down their manic cheerleading. For example, the player whom they just made fun of for getting “de-cleated” is, after his season-ending injury, “a good student who enjoys visiting war veterans in the hospital.” (And there is nary a whisper about the Candystriper he allegedly knocked up on one of those visits.)
During such an interlude in the Texas-Alabama game, the announcers recalled Oklahoma quarterback Sam Bradford’s season-ending shoulder injury. Then they mentioned Florida quarterback Tim Tebow’s season-interrupting concussion. These two young men are former Heisman Trophy winners.
Colt McCoy was edged out for the 2009 Heisman by Bama’s Mark Ingram. But for the moment, Brent Musburger and Kirk Herbstreit elevated Colt McCoy to the pantheon of wounded Heisman winners.
Not too long after this moment of glib gravitas, a shocking graphic flashed before my eyes. It was a chart detailing the head coaches’ pay. Texas coach Mack Brown is paid $5 million per year. Alabama’s Nick Saban is paid $3.9 million per year. If Texas had won, Mack Brown would have gotten a $450,000 bonus. Saban got paid $400,000 for the win.
At the end of the game, one thing could be said for certain. Neither Mack Brown nor Nick Saban risked injury to earn his preposterous salary. The injuries were borne by their unpaid players. And many of those lads will face complications for the rest of their lives for “leaving it on the field.”
A century ago, the United States accepted that workers should have a reasonable expectation of an injury-free workplace. States adopted worker compensation insurance plans, and the concept of no-fault insurance for workplace injuries took hold.
College football is a big business; it is not a playground sport where the true amateur plays. You know it’s a big business when West Virginia University can afford to pay its head football coach a million dollars per year in salary and expenses.
The NCAA has rigged the college farm team system to perfection. By pretending that collegiate sports are all about the amateur athlete, then colleges and universities can avoid the niceties of paying athletes or providing them with workers’ compensation and disability coverage.
We are beginning to learn that concussions take their toll later in life. I hope that Pat White and Jarrett Brown, both quarterbaks at WVU, never suffer from their college football concussions. But the evidence at hand suggests that their golden years may not be so golden.
WVU linebacker Reed Williams sacrificed his shoulders for college football. Who will pay for his arthritis medicine in 2050? Likewise for the women, who pays for former basketball player Meg Bulger’s future knee replacement?
Honestly, I think the Romans had more respect for the wellbeing of their gladiators than the NCAA does for amateur athletes. But I am being unfair. The Coliseum in Rome never had a television contract.
Pat White’s season-interrupting concussion serves to illustrate my point. When he returned to the field, much was made of the special helmet he was wearing. His new helmet was designed to protect him from another head injury.
Why wasn’t Pat White wearing the best helmet in the first place? How does a coach look Pat White in the eye and say, “After you’ve suffered a doozy of a concussion, then we’ll buy you a really good helmet!”
Someday, an injured player will sue his or her university, and the judge will rule (correctly, I believe) that the school is the player’s de facto employer. When coaches make seven figures, and Wyoming wins a bowl game ($750,000 payout), it’s hard to pretend that we still live in the days of Knute Rockne winning one for the Gipper.
Last season, a thousand college athletes left something on the field, and all they got were numbered T-shirts.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
David Allen’s Crossword Tips for 2009
As you know, I am hooked on crossword puzzles. This year, there have been some new words introduced into the crossword puzzle dictionary. Here is a sampling:
Eugooglewiki--verb. A combination of euthanasia, Google and Wikipedia. To cause brain death by searching the internet for knowledge.
Neumoania--noun. First used by Dr. Phil to describe teenage anxiety (neurosis) caused by cell phone spell-checkers that require correct spelling before transmitting text messages.
Emurhea--noun. A combination of “emu” and “rhea”; accepted as a 7-letter word for “flightless bird.” Coined by Capt. Sully Sullenberger in a radio message to tower (“The emurhea has landed.”) when his US Airways plane ditched in the Hudson River.
Humanaterrarium--noun. Found on page 1,462 of the new federal health care legislation. An observation facility where sick people needing expensive medical procedures undergo cost-benefit analysis to justify prolonging their lives.
Xenonutrients--noun. The politically-correct term for foreign (“xeno-”) or ethnic foods.
Algorerhythm--noun. The naturally-occurring cycle of global atmospheric warming and cooling. Coined in 2002 by leading climate scientists in their secret E-mail messages but only recently made public by computer hackers.
Wism--noun. Coined at the end of the Bush (43) presidency. An era of change without substance or direction.
Cyberyegg--noun. Variant of “yegg”, a crossword staple meaning safe cracker. A cyberyegg accomplishes the same by electronic methods.
Roamingpolanski--verb. A feminist term coined in 2009. To legitimize the drugging and raping of young girls by middle-aged, male movie stars with valid French passports.
Bidenmitongue--verb. To give in to the uncontrollable urge to say something preposterous when being interviewed on camera.
Buffetobama--noun. [1] A sumptuous meal for nicely-dressed, uninvited moochers who crash White House parties. [2] Generally, a free lunch.
Solonophobia--noun. From “solon” (legislator) and “phobia” (fear). State of paralyzing fear experienced by senators and congressmen when having a recurring nightmare in which the government can no longer borrow money.
Caddywhompass--verb. To destroy a luxury SUV. Reported in the Orlando Sentinel: “Using one of her husband’s golf clubs, Mrs. Tiger Woods smashed the windows of his Cadillac Escalade while Tiger was still inside. Casey Martin, the Woods’ next-door neighbor, told police, ‘She caddywhompassed him good!’”
Eugooglewiki--verb. A combination of euthanasia, Google and Wikipedia. To cause brain death by searching the internet for knowledge.
Neumoania--noun. First used by Dr. Phil to describe teenage anxiety (neurosis) caused by cell phone spell-checkers that require correct spelling before transmitting text messages.
Emurhea--noun. A combination of “emu” and “rhea”; accepted as a 7-letter word for “flightless bird.” Coined by Capt. Sully Sullenberger in a radio message to tower (“The emurhea has landed.”) when his US Airways plane ditched in the Hudson River.
Humanaterrarium--noun. Found on page 1,462 of the new federal health care legislation. An observation facility where sick people needing expensive medical procedures undergo cost-benefit analysis to justify prolonging their lives.
Xenonutrients--noun. The politically-correct term for foreign (“xeno-”) or ethnic foods.
Algorerhythm--noun. The naturally-occurring cycle of global atmospheric warming and cooling. Coined in 2002 by leading climate scientists in their secret E-mail messages but only recently made public by computer hackers.
Wism--noun. Coined at the end of the Bush (43) presidency. An era of change without substance or direction.
Cyberyegg--noun. Variant of “yegg”, a crossword staple meaning safe cracker. A cyberyegg accomplishes the same by electronic methods.
Roamingpolanski--verb. A feminist term coined in 2009. To legitimize the drugging and raping of young girls by middle-aged, male movie stars with valid French passports.
Bidenmitongue--verb. To give in to the uncontrollable urge to say something preposterous when being interviewed on camera.
Buffetobama--noun. [1] A sumptuous meal for nicely-dressed, uninvited moochers who crash White House parties. [2] Generally, a free lunch.
Solonophobia--noun. From “solon” (legislator) and “phobia” (fear). State of paralyzing fear experienced by senators and congressmen when having a recurring nightmare in which the government can no longer borrow money.
Caddywhompass--verb. To destroy a luxury SUV. Reported in the Orlando Sentinel: “Using one of her husband’s golf clubs, Mrs. Tiger Woods smashed the windows of his Cadillac Escalade while Tiger was still inside. Casey Martin, the Woods’ next-door neighbor, told police, ‘She caddywhompassed him good!’”
Friday, December 18, 2009
Moving Mountains: As Humans, We Alter the Landscape
When you're talking about mountaintop removal, you're talking about moving millions of cubic yards of earth. How much is one million cubic yards?
Try this exercise: Go to the mall and buy 12 million yardsticks. Glue the ends together to form 3-foot-by-3-foot-by-3-foot cubes. Using a football field as your grid, arrange the cubes in layers (120 long by 53 wide.) When done, your stack of cubes should be 474 feet high or as tall as a 40-story building.
When you talk about mountaintop removal, you are likely referring to a southern West Virginia coal mining technique. In north-central West Virginia, however, we have been flattening hilltops for decades to create developable land.
By my estimate, during the past three decades alone, some 30 million cubic yards of earth has been moved to build shopping malls, motels, new roads, airport expansions, a new school, a championship golf course, new housing developments, the FBI fingerprint center and various other large sites. And this is just in Harrison County.
One airport expansion alone required 10 million cubic yards of excavation. The Eastpointe-Newpointe shopping area runs a close second if it is not, in fact, a larger project.
You won't need to wear out your pencil by adding up a list of small developments to arrive at 30 million. In fact, you don't even need to include the excavation required to build Corridor D (U.S. 50) and I-79. (That's probably 30 million cubic yards if not more.)
Robert C. Byrd High School's site required about 320,000 cubic yards of excavation. But that doesn't tell the whole story. The land was previously an underground coal mine. Then it was surface-mined and abandoned. Then it was reclaimed under the Abandoned Mine Land program. And, finally, that same dirt was moved a third time to build the school location.
People don't associate mountaintop removal with commercial site development. A perfect example of this is our new hospital site. Two-million cubic yards of earth were moved to flatten a hilltop for the new United Hospital Center.
This is not mountaintop removal -- the destruction of our beautiful hills. No, the hospital site is a beacon of progress. Healing the sick, tending to the injured and comforting the dying represent mankind's greatest act -- humanity. The modern hospital can achieve these goals far better than the old one can. The new hospital salves our eco-vanity in a humbling way.
I wanted to attend the UHC groundbreaking. I wanted to hear important dignitaries tell us that the hospital's good for the community far outweighed any harm to the environment. As I had a previous engagement, I missed all that speechifying.
A few days later, though, I did run into Alvin, the famous singing chipmunk. He told me that he had attended the groundbreaking to protest mountaintop removal. Still in shock, Alvin said, "The groundbreaking itself was a non-event. Then things got pretty dicey when the bulldozers moved in. My friends are still looking for places to live."
The Morgantown area has seen its share of mountaintop removal in the past three decades. It surely rivals that of the Clarksburg-Bridgeport area.
My best estimate of disturbed development land in the I-79 corridor from Clarksburg to Morgantown, and during the past three decades, is 50,000 acres or about 80 square miles. For the great bulk of this area, we have traded grassland and forest for rooftops and pavement.
I would think that even a weekend environmentalist would jump all over the disappearance of this carbon-consuming resource. Apparently, they are too busy potty-mouthing Brazil for wrecking the rain forest to notice what has happened here.
West Virginia is a great place to grow apples. Florida is a great place to grow oranges. That line of thinking has permeated the debate on mountaintop removal. In the northern part of the state, mountaintop removal is an economic development asset. In the southern part of the state, mountaintop removal is the rape of our most cherished asset.
The sound bite of our time has become "Mountaintop coal mine bad. Mountaintop hospital good."
Pray tell. Is the debate about mountaintop removal really that simplistic?
Humans don't live in isolation, nor do they live in regions. Humans live as a collective, and, collectively, we alter the landscape to suit our desires. We move mountains because we want to. We move mountains because we can.
Try this exercise: Go to the mall and buy 12 million yardsticks. Glue the ends together to form 3-foot-by-3-foot-by-3-foot cubes. Using a football field as your grid, arrange the cubes in layers (120 long by 53 wide.) When done, your stack of cubes should be 474 feet high or as tall as a 40-story building.
When you talk about mountaintop removal, you are likely referring to a southern West Virginia coal mining technique. In north-central West Virginia, however, we have been flattening hilltops for decades to create developable land.
By my estimate, during the past three decades alone, some 30 million cubic yards of earth has been moved to build shopping malls, motels, new roads, airport expansions, a new school, a championship golf course, new housing developments, the FBI fingerprint center and various other large sites. And this is just in Harrison County.
One airport expansion alone required 10 million cubic yards of excavation. The Eastpointe-Newpointe shopping area runs a close second if it is not, in fact, a larger project.
You won't need to wear out your pencil by adding up a list of small developments to arrive at 30 million. In fact, you don't even need to include the excavation required to build Corridor D (U.S. 50) and I-79. (That's probably 30 million cubic yards if not more.)
Robert C. Byrd High School's site required about 320,000 cubic yards of excavation. But that doesn't tell the whole story. The land was previously an underground coal mine. Then it was surface-mined and abandoned. Then it was reclaimed under the Abandoned Mine Land program. And, finally, that same dirt was moved a third time to build the school location.
People don't associate mountaintop removal with commercial site development. A perfect example of this is our new hospital site. Two-million cubic yards of earth were moved to flatten a hilltop for the new United Hospital Center.
This is not mountaintop removal -- the destruction of our beautiful hills. No, the hospital site is a beacon of progress. Healing the sick, tending to the injured and comforting the dying represent mankind's greatest act -- humanity. The modern hospital can achieve these goals far better than the old one can. The new hospital salves our eco-vanity in a humbling way.
I wanted to attend the UHC groundbreaking. I wanted to hear important dignitaries tell us that the hospital's good for the community far outweighed any harm to the environment. As I had a previous engagement, I missed all that speechifying.
A few days later, though, I did run into Alvin, the famous singing chipmunk. He told me that he had attended the groundbreaking to protest mountaintop removal. Still in shock, Alvin said, "The groundbreaking itself was a non-event. Then things got pretty dicey when the bulldozers moved in. My friends are still looking for places to live."
The Morgantown area has seen its share of mountaintop removal in the past three decades. It surely rivals that of the Clarksburg-Bridgeport area.
My best estimate of disturbed development land in the I-79 corridor from Clarksburg to Morgantown, and during the past three decades, is 50,000 acres or about 80 square miles. For the great bulk of this area, we have traded grassland and forest for rooftops and pavement.
I would think that even a weekend environmentalist would jump all over the disappearance of this carbon-consuming resource. Apparently, they are too busy potty-mouthing Brazil for wrecking the rain forest to notice what has happened here.
West Virginia is a great place to grow apples. Florida is a great place to grow oranges. That line of thinking has permeated the debate on mountaintop removal. In the northern part of the state, mountaintop removal is an economic development asset. In the southern part of the state, mountaintop removal is the rape of our most cherished asset.
The sound bite of our time has become "Mountaintop coal mine bad. Mountaintop hospital good."
Pray tell. Is the debate about mountaintop removal really that simplistic?
Humans don't live in isolation, nor do they live in regions. Humans live as a collective, and, collectively, we alter the landscape to suit our desires. We move mountains because we want to. We move mountains because we can.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Paley Sculpture Highlights Clay Center's Art World Status
It’s not often that a major sculpture is commissioned for a city of barely 50,000 residents. You need an appropriate place to locate it. You need a benefactor to pay for it. And, perhaps most importantly, you need a sculptor who can envision such a work and then bring it to completion. Albert Paley’s Hallelujah located at The Clay Center for the Arts and Sciences is such a sculpture.
Charleston may be the state capitol, but it is a shrinking city. A few years ago, the city started taxing anyone who worked inside the city limits $2.00 per week to help shore up its declining tax revenue.
But Charleston does have pockets of “old money” as evidenced by The Clay Center. Named for the Clay family whose charitable foundation was the major donor, The Center cost over $115 million in 2003. The Hallelujah sculpture was donated by the McGee Foundation.
Albert Paley is well-known as one of the world’s leading metal artists. He works with a variety of metals. In this case, he chose weathering Cor-Ten steel for the major elements, stainless steel for the ribbons, and bronze (which will weather green) for the carousel segments.
Artist-blacksmith Jeff Fetty of Spencer is best-known to West Virginians for his sculpture garden of large metal flowers at Trace Fork Shopping Plaza near Charleston. Jeff has done commissions in Europe and around the United States,and he has known Albert Paley for many years. He took a class from Paley in Aachen, Germany, and he has visited Paley at his studio in Rochester, NY.
WV Public Broadcasting interviewed Jeff in mid-September and asked him what he thought of Paley’s Hallelujah.
“After being a Paley fan for so long, when I first heard that the Clay Center was getting a piece of Albert’s work, I was in disbelief, but very pleased when I heard that it was a reality,” Fetty said. “I just feel that Charleston and West Virginia are very privileged and fortunate to have his work in our lives, and I applaud those responsible for this gift.”
As an artist, Jeff is right in his assessment of Paley’s work. Like owning a Picasso, just having a Paley lends credibility to The Clay Center’s status in the art world.
People have taken notice of Hallelujah, and their comments are predictable, yet intriguing. As you would expect, numerous people have called it “Junk”, and that is because the major component is rusted steel. While bronze and copper are downright beautiful when they oxidize, most people consider steel ready for the junkyard when it rusts.
Those who admire abstract art appreciate Hallelujah simply because it is abstract art. They can enjoy the work because they aren’t looking for a hidden message.
Joe Mullins, the Charleston sculptor who designed the Veterans Memorial on the Capitol grounds, once told me that, in simplest terms, a necktie is abstract art. He’s right about that, and we don’t give much thought about the “message” of a necktie.
According the WVPB report, Hallelujah also has been described as a collection of drafting tools, a rocket ship, and something you’d see at Disney World.
Hallelujah will get many such critiques because it is in a prime location between Lee and Washington streets, two of Charleston’s busiest downtown thoroughfares. Because it is outdoors, Hallelujah will be the only Clay Center exhibit that thousands, or maybe millions, of people will ever see.
Or, it may be the magnet that draws in thousands of people who otherwise would never have visited the center. At 64 feet tall and weighing nearly 100 tons, nobody is going to miss seeing this landmark.
The Clay Center was an ambitious undertaking, and it has struggled to attract visitors and generate revenue. This year, the county commission voted to give the Center $100,000.00 to subsidize visits by the county’s school children. The money comes from the county’s share of gambling revenue at a nearby dog racetrack.
Hallelujah could be the event that changes the center’s fortunes. Or, it could be the exclamation point for a project that greatly overreached given West Virginia’s location and demographics.
Hallelujah was fabricated in New York, assembled there, then dismantled, and re-assembled in Charleston. If The Clay Center ever fails for lack of old money, Hallelujah can always be sold and moved.
Hallelujah’s intrigue lies in its ability to change color over the next decade or two. What we see today will disappear by next autumn as the bronze and Cor-Ten steel oxidize. And what we see in the next year after that will change again. Much like our hardwood forests when the leaves turn color, you’ll never see the same Hallelujah twice.
The Charleston Gazette offered an online poll to capture the community’s opinion of the sculpture. Over 1,700 people voted. This is a promising response rate because it indicates community awareness.
Half of those voting had yet to form a critical opinion. Of the remaining half, those who “hated it” outnumbered those who “loved it” by a 2:1 ratio. In time, more of the undecided will favor the work than oppose it. That’s just human nature.
The opinion poll also indicates that the sculpture has done its job as a work of art. First, the community knows it’s there, and second, people are willing to study it before forming an opinion.
Albert Paley was most gracious when he attended the dedication on October 6th. When asked what the sculpture represented, he essentially said that would be in the eye of the beholder. “It is what it is.” is how he characterized his work. Mr. Paley should be congratulated for his humility as well as his talent.
Charleston may be the state capitol, but it is a shrinking city. A few years ago, the city started taxing anyone who worked inside the city limits $2.00 per week to help shore up its declining tax revenue.
But Charleston does have pockets of “old money” as evidenced by The Clay Center. Named for the Clay family whose charitable foundation was the major donor, The Center cost over $115 million in 2003. The Hallelujah sculpture was donated by the McGee Foundation.
Albert Paley is well-known as one of the world’s leading metal artists. He works with a variety of metals. In this case, he chose weathering Cor-Ten steel for the major elements, stainless steel for the ribbons, and bronze (which will weather green) for the carousel segments.
Artist-blacksmith Jeff Fetty of Spencer is best-known to West Virginians for his sculpture garden of large metal flowers at Trace Fork Shopping Plaza near Charleston. Jeff has done commissions in Europe and around the United States,and he has known Albert Paley for many years. He took a class from Paley in Aachen, Germany, and he has visited Paley at his studio in Rochester, NY.
WV Public Broadcasting interviewed Jeff in mid-September and asked him what he thought of Paley’s Hallelujah.
“After being a Paley fan for so long, when I first heard that the Clay Center was getting a piece of Albert’s work, I was in disbelief, but very pleased when I heard that it was a reality,” Fetty said. “I just feel that Charleston and West Virginia are very privileged and fortunate to have his work in our lives, and I applaud those responsible for this gift.”
As an artist, Jeff is right in his assessment of Paley’s work. Like owning a Picasso, just having a Paley lends credibility to The Clay Center’s status in the art world.
People have taken notice of Hallelujah, and their comments are predictable, yet intriguing. As you would expect, numerous people have called it “Junk”, and that is because the major component is rusted steel. While bronze and copper are downright beautiful when they oxidize, most people consider steel ready for the junkyard when it rusts.
Those who admire abstract art appreciate Hallelujah simply because it is abstract art. They can enjoy the work because they aren’t looking for a hidden message.
Joe Mullins, the Charleston sculptor who designed the Veterans Memorial on the Capitol grounds, once told me that, in simplest terms, a necktie is abstract art. He’s right about that, and we don’t give much thought about the “message” of a necktie.
According the WVPB report, Hallelujah also has been described as a collection of drafting tools, a rocket ship, and something you’d see at Disney World.
Hallelujah will get many such critiques because it is in a prime location between Lee and Washington streets, two of Charleston’s busiest downtown thoroughfares. Because it is outdoors, Hallelujah will be the only Clay Center exhibit that thousands, or maybe millions, of people will ever see.
Or, it may be the magnet that draws in thousands of people who otherwise would never have visited the center. At 64 feet tall and weighing nearly 100 tons, nobody is going to miss seeing this landmark.
The Clay Center was an ambitious undertaking, and it has struggled to attract visitors and generate revenue. This year, the county commission voted to give the Center $100,000.00 to subsidize visits by the county’s school children. The money comes from the county’s share of gambling revenue at a nearby dog racetrack.
Hallelujah could be the event that changes the center’s fortunes. Or, it could be the exclamation point for a project that greatly overreached given West Virginia’s location and demographics.
Hallelujah was fabricated in New York, assembled there, then dismantled, and re-assembled in Charleston. If The Clay Center ever fails for lack of old money, Hallelujah can always be sold and moved.
Hallelujah’s intrigue lies in its ability to change color over the next decade or two. What we see today will disappear by next autumn as the bronze and Cor-Ten steel oxidize. And what we see in the next year after that will change again. Much like our hardwood forests when the leaves turn color, you’ll never see the same Hallelujah twice.
The Charleston Gazette offered an online poll to capture the community’s opinion of the sculpture. Over 1,700 people voted. This is a promising response rate because it indicates community awareness.
Half of those voting had yet to form a critical opinion. Of the remaining half, those who “hated it” outnumbered those who “loved it” by a 2:1 ratio. In time, more of the undecided will favor the work than oppose it. That’s just human nature.
The opinion poll also indicates that the sculpture has done its job as a work of art. First, the community knows it’s there, and second, people are willing to study it before forming an opinion.
Albert Paley was most gracious when he attended the dedication on October 6th. When asked what the sculpture represented, he essentially said that would be in the eye of the beholder. “It is what it is.” is how he characterized his work. Mr. Paley should be congratulated for his humility as well as his talent.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Chrysler Looks Better in the Rearview Mirror
My first car was a 1970 Buick Gran Sport with four on the floor and 400 ponies—a Pontiac GTO incognito essentially. From then on, I continued to buy “American-made” cars. My Jeep CJ-5 was an off-road blast. I’d take my Lincoln Versailles over a Mercedes any day.
When I moved to the country, I switched to Fords—a Bronco II, two pickups, and an Explorer. And when I moved back to town, I bought vans—a Ford Econoline and two Dodge Caravans.
My car-buying habits changed on September 30th. I traded my Caravan for a Honda Odyssey. I told the salesman that he should feel ashamed for taking a commission on the sale. He asked why I would say that, so I replied, “The Honda sold itself.”
I actually considered trading for a new Caravan in 2008. But when the economy turned, I thought it prudent to wait and see. At the time, I figured that I would get a better deal the longer I waited. As we now know, Chrysler was bust and on the verge of shutting down completely.
Chrysler’s recent failure brought back old memories. I really wanted to buy a Plymouth Barracuda in 1970. But the first one I saw in a showroom had a big hole in the carpet. The carpet had been pre-cut (in the wrong place) for the gear shift. Even though you could see the bare metal of the floorboard, that flaw did not stop Chrysler and its Plymouth dealer from showing the car.
It never surprised me when Chrysler asked for a bailout in 1979. I was surprised, however, that Lee Iacocca was able to save the company given its culture at the time.
Here we are thirty years later, and history has repeated itself. The doubling of the price of a gallon of gasoline from fifty cents to one dollar in 1979 put a terrible strain on Detroit’s automakers. When gasoline hit $4.00 per gallon in June 2008, it had doubled in price in eighteen months. As in 1979, Detroit was caught flat-footed trying to sell gas guzzlers.
I think I made up my mind to buy a “foreign” car when President Obama married Miss Chrysler to Mr. Fiat last spring. The dowry needed to carry out such an arranged marriage is always proportionate to the bride’s homeliness. In this case, the dowry amounted to the full faith and credit of the United States Treasury.
Daimler Benz thought it could make Miss Chrysler into a desirable bride. In the end, Benz had spent $30 billion on lipstick and makeovers and was absolutely giddy to palm her off on another suitor. If Daimler Benz couldn’t transform Chrysler, then there’s no way anyone else can either.
Chrysler’s downfall has a West Virginia connection. If you’ll recall, a Putnam county couple sued the company a few years ago over problems with their Dodge Intrepid. The case went to trial, and the jury awarded them $6,950. Since Chrysler lost, it had to pay the plaintiff’s attorney fees which totaled $143,026. Chrysler’s own attorney fees were more than that. The company was out-of-pocket about $300,000 when all was said and done.
Whether this expense was due to a management blunder or to a legal system gone haywire matters little at this point. Courtroom battles take their toll on a company. While it may take a ton of straws to break the camel’s back, each one, however slight, takes a measurable toll.
What sold me on the Honda were its buttons—the big buttons on the dashboard. When I saw that Honda’s engineers had gotten over their “How many buttons can we place on the head of a pin?” design mentality, I said to myself: “This is an American car!”
On September 30th, Detroit lost a long-time, repeat customer. Most likely forever.
When I moved to the country, I switched to Fords—a Bronco II, two pickups, and an Explorer. And when I moved back to town, I bought vans—a Ford Econoline and two Dodge Caravans.
My car-buying habits changed on September 30th. I traded my Caravan for a Honda Odyssey. I told the salesman that he should feel ashamed for taking a commission on the sale. He asked why I would say that, so I replied, “The Honda sold itself.”
I actually considered trading for a new Caravan in 2008. But when the economy turned, I thought it prudent to wait and see. At the time, I figured that I would get a better deal the longer I waited. As we now know, Chrysler was bust and on the verge of shutting down completely.
Chrysler’s recent failure brought back old memories. I really wanted to buy a Plymouth Barracuda in 1970. But the first one I saw in a showroom had a big hole in the carpet. The carpet had been pre-cut (in the wrong place) for the gear shift. Even though you could see the bare metal of the floorboard, that flaw did not stop Chrysler and its Plymouth dealer from showing the car.
It never surprised me when Chrysler asked for a bailout in 1979. I was surprised, however, that Lee Iacocca was able to save the company given its culture at the time.
Here we are thirty years later, and history has repeated itself. The doubling of the price of a gallon of gasoline from fifty cents to one dollar in 1979 put a terrible strain on Detroit’s automakers. When gasoline hit $4.00 per gallon in June 2008, it had doubled in price in eighteen months. As in 1979, Detroit was caught flat-footed trying to sell gas guzzlers.
I think I made up my mind to buy a “foreign” car when President Obama married Miss Chrysler to Mr. Fiat last spring. The dowry needed to carry out such an arranged marriage is always proportionate to the bride’s homeliness. In this case, the dowry amounted to the full faith and credit of the United States Treasury.
Daimler Benz thought it could make Miss Chrysler into a desirable bride. In the end, Benz had spent $30 billion on lipstick and makeovers and was absolutely giddy to palm her off on another suitor. If Daimler Benz couldn’t transform Chrysler, then there’s no way anyone else can either.
Chrysler’s downfall has a West Virginia connection. If you’ll recall, a Putnam county couple sued the company a few years ago over problems with their Dodge Intrepid. The case went to trial, and the jury awarded them $6,950. Since Chrysler lost, it had to pay the plaintiff’s attorney fees which totaled $143,026. Chrysler’s own attorney fees were more than that. The company was out-of-pocket about $300,000 when all was said and done.
Whether this expense was due to a management blunder or to a legal system gone haywire matters little at this point. Courtroom battles take their toll on a company. While it may take a ton of straws to break the camel’s back, each one, however slight, takes a measurable toll.
What sold me on the Honda were its buttons—the big buttons on the dashboard. When I saw that Honda’s engineers had gotten over their “How many buttons can we place on the head of a pin?” design mentality, I said to myself: “This is an American car!”
On September 30th, Detroit lost a long-time, repeat customer. Most likely forever.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)