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Boston Globe
7 hours ago
- Boston Globe
My students don't have a local newspaper. Making their own changed everything.
As a pre-teen, I explored features neighboring the comics: horoscopes and advice columns. (For the record, dear readers, I never agreed with Ann Landers on how to hang toilet paper.) Later came movie listings to set up dates and classified ads to find summer jobs. As an English major, I eagerly awaited the book and movie reviews as much as I once had anticipated the arrival of the Sunday comics. By college, I had graduated from sitting cross-legged on the floor with the funnies to sitting at the kitchen table, legs crossed, with the arts section and a cup of coffee. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up On occasion, I thrilled to see my name published as part of my high school's graduating class or my college's Dean's List. Sometimes, there were candid shots of me or friends at a public event we had attended. Such mentions were small but significant gestures on our newspaper's part to show its readers, not only that we were seen, but that our existence mattered. Advertisement In time, my reading habits expanded to include the front-page news, and I was so hooked on print that I became a reporter. The job was not glamorous: I mostly attended government meetings and listened to police scanners, but I provided a service by recording daily small-town history. The more I spoke to residents, the more I came to care for them, and I hoped that, through my coverage, my readers would know that they mattered to me. Advertisement I kept each of my bylined stories and placed them neatly in a binder. To me, they were gold. That was the old way. Little of it proved sustainable when news readership declined and many small newspapers were bought out by hedge funds and media conglomerates. For subscribers today, news usually arrives on a screen instead of at a doorstep. I now teach high school English in Sharon, and it pains me that there's often no household print edition for students to grow up with. The news they read, if they read the news, largely comes from social media and shared memes. Recently, I started teaching journalism and advising the school newspaper club. I didn't expect my old reporter instincts to kick in. Soon, the school became my 'beat.' I suddenly made time for varied conversations with colleagues and students. I began to ask more questions. Who is that student — the table tennis champion? What's that new teacher working on? Tell me all about that School Committee proposal to institute club fees. Even better, my journalism students are asking such questions. They're even watching local government meetings. Their town became a news desert in recent years, and my students are jumping in to fill the void, with stories about the arrival of a nearby Costco and the building of a new library and the opening of new restaurants. Advertisement Although we regularly publish stories digitally, my newspaper club students longed to create a full print edition; they wanted something tangible: something to herald their presence and relevance to the community. Our first print edition came out this spring, and when I distributed copies to my sophomore English classes, students completely hushed, absorbed in the stories and the photographs, intrigued by the crossword puzzle that was created by a graduating senior. After about 20 minutes, I could hear them whispering to each other. One student had read a restaurant review and concurred, 'The pad Thai is so good.' Another read a story about the local history of nearby Lake Massapoag and cried out, 'There was an ice house there?' And another exclaimed, 'There are book reviews!' Some asked how to join the newspaper staff. One girl said that reading the paper made her feel 'professional.' For a few minutes, I was transported to the old days, when printed local news was something we could physically hold onto and when readers felt that their hometown lives had been documented. They had been seen. Lori Ayotte is a Massachusetts public school English teacher and a freelance writer. Send comments to magazine@
Chicago Tribune
21 hours ago
- Chicago Tribune
Excitement amid cuts: CPS families on the first day
Across the city Monday morning, children stepped into crisp uniforms and laced up brand-new shoes for the first day of school. Yellow buses wove through neighborhoods on soon-to-be familiar routes. Parents hugged their little ones and wished them well with their new teachers and friends. But despite the first day buzz, Chicago Public Schools opened its school doors amid a time of serious financial uncertainty, felt most by the parents and community interacting with the district every day. Delia Cruz, 37, a CPS mom from the East Side, doesn't begrudge the district for being underresourced, but as schools face tight budgets, she has learned how to be a fierce advocate for her kids. 'I'm not doing it for me, I'm doing it for them,' she said, as she braided her 8-year-old daughter Jadelinn's hair into tight coils Monday morning in her living room before their morning commute. In the months leading up to Monday, Aug. 18, CPS officials were focused on closing a $734 million budget deficit — all while navigating a power struggle fueled by a months-long conflict between City Hall, the Chicago Teachers Union and district leadership. Over the summer, CPS released school-level budgets, the financial roadmaps that guide spending at individual schools. Principals spent hours adjusting operational planning based on the allocations they received. According to a CPS news release, the district allocates resources based on specific student needs and school programs — including services for English language learners, students with disabilities and those requiring social and emotional support. Cruz doesn't follow the politics of the district or its budget, but finds purpose in her involvement with half a dozen parent associations. Like other families, she leans on the district for resources and support for her five kids, three of whom have autism. 'We have to make this work,' she said. Inside a two-flat in McKinley Park, Victoria Naranjo, 34, put together her daughter's lunch: cookies, fruit, an empanada. Her 6-year-old, Yohanna Seaños, bounced around the kitchen, too excited to sit still for breakfast. Her hair was freshly washed, with two curls hanging down her forehead. Framed on the wall in the kitchen is a certificate of recognition, acknowledging Yohanna's growth the previous school year. Above the table is a series of professionally done school photos. 'Last year, in just six months, she learned to speak full sentences in English,' boasted her father, Jose Ramos, 37. The family arrived in Chicago from Caracas, Venezuela, about a year ago, fleeing violence and seeking better healthcare and education for their children. Yohanna's younger sister, 4-year-old Mya, had been diagnosed with tuberculosis and later suffered a stroke that left her with permanent cognitive delays. Naranjo said that as a young mother, it was difficult to know how to care for 4-year-old Mya, who now eats through a feeding tube in her stomach. She has taken Mya to weeks of speech therapy, and the little girl, who sits in a stroller, can sound out basic words like 'Mama' and 'Papa.' She has met with district specialists to fill out her youngest's individualized education program, which provides tailored support to students with disabilities. But the school where Mya was assigned is a far commute from their home, she said. Naranjo worries because Mya's teachers there don't speak English. She said the nurse only works two days a week. 'I need a school that has a nurse working daily,' Naranjo said. 'I have to figure out how to switch her.' All four members of the family left their house on Monday morning and trooped the several blocks to Edward Everett Elementary School in McKinley Park, slightly behind schedule. Teachers stood at the entrance to the building, greeting their first-day newcomers. Naranjo left her husband and 4-year-old to meet Yohanna's new teacher, and came out of the school after a few minutes smiling. 'She speaks Spanish!' she told Ramos, with relief. The first day of school opened with the lowest number of teacher and support staff vacancies in recent CPS history — a 2.46 percent teacher vacancy rate compared to last year's 4.4 percent vacancy rate, according to district officials. There were some security concerns, CPS said, including a gun identified during routine security screenings at Whitney High School in the West Loop, which was immediately confiscated. The school year also began against the backdrop of a $1.5 billion teachers contract ratified this spring that adds protections for bilingual students and those with specialized needs, commitments that may prove difficult to uphold under the district's 2026 fiscal budget constraints, according to a June letter from the CTU President Stacy Davis Gates. Meanwhile, Mayor Brandon Johnson, a former teachers union organizer, has put pressure on interim CPS CEO Macquline King to borrow to cover this year's gaping budget shortfall. But the temporary schools chief is in a difficult spot. The district, one of the largest municipal junk bond issuers — or high-risk borrowers — in the nation, according to analysts, has received warnings from credit agencies that taking a loan to meet basic operational needs is not advisable. In community information sessions that King arranged with community members, most parents expressed hesitancy to engage in borrowing now for fear it would hurt future CPS generations. Taking that feedback into consideration, King's team proposed a $10.2 billion budget last week, which, instead of borrowing, included plans to cut corners wherever possible. Although the cuts are targeted for outside the classroom, the district's plan will affect the day-to-day experience for thousands of Chicago families. CPS has already had to lay off over 2,000 employees, including 700 special education assistants, 300 paraprofessionals and 100 crossing guards, according to a recent district presentation. Indeed, there was no crossing guard ushering kids into school outside Everett on Monday morning. Instead, a security guard, Victor Juarez, greeted families as they walked in. 'Good morning, Ryan!' he shook his head at one little boy, who ran in several minutes late, snot dripping from his nose. He admitted that the school has never had a crossing guard at the particular intersection where he stood, but pointed across the street where there used to be someone in a neon vest guiding those on their morning commutes. 'We need them,' he said. In their East Side dining room, four of Delia Cruz's kids posed against a wall, clutching laminated first-day-of-school posters. Jadelinn Cruz, 8, stood straight-faced in her navy uniform, with hair tightly braided by her mom. 'Why don't you do a silly one?' asked Cruz, the mother of five. She held up her phone camera from across the table. Her daughter finally gave a toothy grin before bounding towards the couch. The home brimmed with chaos and promise. Markers littered the kitchen table. Backpacks leaned up against the front door. The neon light of the TV flickered in the background. Cruz and her husband, Ivan, had to get their three daughters and eldest son out the door before 8:15 a.m. When their younger son, Lionel, starts classes in early September, the mornings will get even more hectic. 'It's crazy, but we manage,' Cruz said. Her hands rested over her swollen belly: She's eight months pregnant. The couple, both Mexican immigrants who came to Chicago decades ago, met at a nearby church when they were teenagers. The family's experience with CPS has been mixed. Eleven-year-old Lionel is autistic, and before he transferred to a school outside the district two years ago, there was only one special education classroom assistant to manage his classroom. He was almost expelled after he pulled the fire alarm, Cruz said. 'It wasn't working before,' she said. 'They didn't know how to take care of him.' Lionel now attends a therapeutic day school in Clearing. While her experience with Lionel was rocky, other investments in CPS give Cruz hope. George Washington High School in the East Side neighborhood — where her oldest daughter attends and Cruz serves on the Local School Council — was selected as one of the district's new sustainable community schools. The school will receive an additional $500,000 to partner with nonprofits and provide wraparound social services to students. 'That makes a difference,' she said. At 8:17 a.m., the family piled out the front door. Jadelinn and her 5-year-old sister, Jayne, each held paper towels and tissue boxes to give to their teachers. They wore matching pink backpacks. 'I'm gonna see all my friends,' Jadelinn said, jumping up and down in front of her parents. After their parents dropped them off, the sisters didn't look back.
Epoch Times
2 days ago
- Epoch Times
‘A Case of Mice and Murder': An Exquisite Treasure
In the middle of London, there are four small enclaves, or cities-within-a-city, called the Inns of the Court. They are the places where some of the top members of the English bar and judiciary learn English law and reside; these are small pockets of high society heavily steeped in traditions, rituals, and history. Sir Gabriel Ward is an Edwardian (1901) barrister who has lived the majority of his life within the confines of one of these Inns of the Court, called the 'Inner Temple.' It's a collection of stately and grand buildings that have become Ward's home and his sanctuary.
