The Lasting Legacy of Our Railroads

The Lasting Legacy of Our Railroads

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Something about trains makes them utterly fascinating.  They are an iconic feature of our country’s history, serving since the mid 19^th century as a sturdy, economical, and appealing way to move us and our possessions across the countrywide.   

Today’s tourists adore them for their capacity to dramatize the past and the picturesque.  Intercity rail routes efficiently transport us to and from work.  140,000 miles of rails link 600 common carrier freight lines and generate $274 billion in American economic output annually.  Even after they disappear, the trains leave behind architectural gems that become everything from pharmacies to community centers.  And ever-growing miles of discontinued routes give us rails-to-trails.  But for many of us, above all else, trains produce nostalgic memories.      

 Growing up in the 1950s I remember some of the last steam trains huffing and clanking into our imposing granite station at the apex of town.  Later in the same decade, my Christmas present was an electric train that looked just like what I had seen.  My pals and I would argue about which kind of track worked better (American Flyer versus Lionel), and our dads shared our hobby enthusiastically.    

By the time I reached high school, diesels with plenty of amenities dominated the tracks west of Chicago.  A travel highlight for me was a cross-country “vista dome” trip with classmates to Montana in 1962.  As we saw virgin country under starry skies, while traveling in silver-sided comfort that featured dining tables and Pullman compartments, I was definitely impressed.

Many years would pass before I took another train ride, but in the meantime, I taught American history in public schools.  Thereby I came to appreciate the instrumental role of railroads as an engine of industry during the Progressive Era.  My students and I discovered the pivotal role of rails during the Civil War, and afterward in helping unify the country.   

Train stories carry an unsurpassable mystique.  Countless novels and films have built plots around train robberies, break-neck chases, and monumental disasters usually staged on wooden bridges.  Every time we start to forget “Murder on the Orient Express”, a remake appears!   One historian aptly described the American railroad’s imagery as comparable to the churches of Europe in the Middle Ages.

At the same time, trains explain many innovations we now take for granted.  Just to illustrate, consider the railroad’s unifying effect on how we tell time.  In post-Civil War days, historian Seymour Morris tells us, cities and towns across the country relied on the clocks of church steeples. There were 300 different times across the country, thus creating scheduling chaos for train travelers.   Railroad authorities tried to solve the problem with a daunting 600-page compendium of schedules.  Fortunately, an 1883 General Time Convention rescued the railroads by adopting the time zones we use today.   

Two personal impressions of trains leave me awe-struck.  First, work used require me to travel by rail regularly from Albany to New York City.  The expansive beauty of the Hudson River always kept me glued to the windows, followed by the shock of a bustling beehive known as Penn Station.

My second impression comes from a hugely entertaining chronicle titled “Last Train to Paradise”.   Written by Les Standiford in 2002, the book describes how a wealthy oil executive named Henry Flegler stubbornly funded a railway from Miami to Key West, despite crippling hurricanes, across well over 100 miles of scrub brush islands, mangrove swamps, coral kays and keys, and open ocean. Flegler put Florida on the recreational map in the early 20^th century, but by 1935 the Florida East Coast Railway had gone bankrupt.  A modern highway covers much of the railway’s old route.  I look forward this spring to learning firsthand about the remains and myths created by this “railroad across the ocean”.   

Hundreds of miles northward, we have our own historically celebrated railroad where I live near Arcade, New York.  The Arcade and Attica line, fully launched in the early 1900s, boasts a diesel and the last operative steam locomotive in New York state.  It carries passengers, cargo, and stages an array of appealing special events throughout the year.

 My personal reminder of railroad life comes from the wail of a distant whistle as a daily commercial freight train wends it way north around 4 a.m.  Although it may seem frustrating to wait as miles of boxcars rattle past a crossing, these leviathans remind me of their legacy as a driver of our American destiny.

Choosing Truth

By Jeffrey Bowen

There were no warning labels

On the life I chose to make,

But I knew I’d never find the truth

Unless I made mistakes.

And truth is something better

Than unreasoned certainty.

I believe the truth remains that way

No matter what you think you see.

Science doesn’t always prove a theory,

But at least it goes beyond some claims.

I’d rather learn what’s really real

Than find some fool who I can blame.

So my life will always stay with reasons.

It’s a choice I had to make.

At night I sleep much better

Knowing knowledge isn’t fake.

I am searching for a better world,

With room for joy and wonder,

But meaning lies in simple truth,

Without it we soon blunder

Into making bad decisions

And selling false realities.

I’d sooner hear the honest truth,

That’ssave who I chose to be.

We have to have the will to doubt

Amid the consequences.

After all we’re human,

And sometimes lose our senses.

But always rise above mistakes.

Learn more than what we’ve lost.

Truth belongs with certainty,

It’s always worth the cost.

Should Empathy Become A High School Graduation Requirement?

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­What if we required every high school student to demonstrate empathy in order to graduate?  I can already hear an avalanche of reservations triggered by educators who would object to one more mandate on their instruction, and by parents who might wonder just what empathy is and how to assess its presence in their children.

Let us put the mechanics aside for a moment, and consider the meaning and context of such a seemingly outlandish idea.  First and foremost, what is empathy and why do we need it? 

In current psychology, the term works in three related senses:  first, knowing another person’s feelings; second, feeling what that person feels; and third, responding to someone else’s concerns by word or deed.   Simply put, this means stepping into another’s shoes, both cognitively and emotionally, and really understanding or relating to what they are going through.    

Empathy can appear almost instinctively at a basic emotional level when you read another person’s facial expression and cannot help but mimic it.  On a higher level, it requires social awareness and understanding.  For example, a doctor who is treating a dad’s case of cancer should listen responsively and receptively not just to dad, but to all of the family members who are affected.  After compassionately digesting those collective concerns, the empathetic doctor should reach beyond a clinical explanation and really treat the whole family.  In fact, research has shown that such doctors generate better medical results with their patients.    

Another way of looking at empathy involves considering the effects of its absence. Daniel Goldman, an expert on social and emotional intelligence, calls these effects the “dark triad”.   They include believing that others exist to adore you (narcissism), that selfish ends justify the means, and that emotional pain and remorse in relation to others is meaningless. 

The preceding makes a strong case for empathy as a life skill.  But what difference does it make for our schools and their inhabitants?

 According to growing research evidence, not to mention common sense, a big difference!  Students with high levels of empathy reportedly display more classroom engagement, better communication skills, and more prosocial behaviors than their peers.  Extensive comparative studies document an 11-13 percentile point advantage in test scores for students who participate in focused social-emotional learning programs.  The most recent studies show international consistency of findings and both immediate and enduring effects.   

Consensus is growing around the idea that empathy is best activated when teachers not only demonstrate it themselves, but also build it into their daily instructional practices.  The competencies teachers should nurture include:  effectively reading emotions; recognizing and validating the feelings of others; finding positive ethical compasses; compassionately embracing cultural and historical perspectives; controlling one’s emotions; practicing kindness; collaborating to reduce conflicts and solve shared problems; and community service projects.   

Challenging teachers to inspire student competencies like these is not unrealistic because it already prevails in most classrooms, but may not yet be formalized in the curriculum.

Our state’s newly mandated mental health education requirements promote “attitudes and behavior that enhance health, well-being, and human dignity.”  The implications of social-emotional learning accompany our State Education Department’s extensive written guidance for strengthening the mind-body connection physically and emotionally.

 Extracurricular activities and school community events may foster wonderful opportunities to build empathetic relationships.  The values and practices of parents can set the primary stage for positive mental health in school and community   Principals and district leaders can make the term a watch word and heighten cultural awareness in a multitude of organizational ways.  What is even more, as our students look toward the future, they will find employers prize employees who exercise relevant social and emotional habits.     

The difficulties of measurement work against empathy becoming a graduation requirement anytime soon.  However, widespread attention to positive mental health as a curb to bullying and substance abuse suggest our journey toward empathy is well underway.

A good way for parents to help children think about empathy is to ask them before bed to tell you about a time that very day when they saw a teacher, classmate, or some other individual perform a remarkable act of kindness or empathy.  Try this out on yourself and you might sleep better.

1/16/2019

Lessons I Learned from Teaching U.S. History

 Lessons I Learned from Teaching U.S. History

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

 I learned some unforgettable lessons from my first year of teaching U.S. history to high school juniors and seniors in 1969.   Nearly all of my students were white and economically advantaged in Bethesda-Chevy Chase, Maryland.   My curriculum was framed by a thousand-page tome entitled “The American Pageant”.   A department mentor supplied a course outline, some time-worn mimeographed worksheets, and a cranky overhead projector.  Mostly I was left on my own to journey through the textbook’s exhaustive chronology of political, economic, and military developments.     

Naturally I wanted to help my 125 students remember enough to pass the course and graduate.  Yet I also rationalized that I could use history as a tool for critical thinking and big ideas about American character.  

Was I ever naïve!   I was trying to inspire interest in a textbook crammed with the publisher’s mind-numbing interpretations.   Besides boring my classes with a slew of forgettable historical facts, I was doing little to make our past relate to the present.  

 In 1969 we were passionately, sometimes violently launching the beginnings of the civil rights movement.  I had watched the skylines of Baltimore and D.C. burning the year before, as the national guard patrolled our streets.  There was growing discontent over the Vietnam war, and protests were getting louder and lifestyles were turning psychedelic.   My students and I remained comfortably oblivious to events of the day.  It actually surprised me when just one of my most rebellious students skipped school to listen to the daily reading of the war dead on the steps of the Capitol.  I persisted in disassociating the day’s issues from my teaching though ironically, by Valentine’s Day, I had received my draft notice and would spend the following year in Vietnam.

Another fallibility was my tendency to lecture and harness myself to the textbook as a main resource.  I was only trying to stay one factual step ahead of my most assertive students, but I was defaulting to advice I once heard from a workshop presenter: “I am here to teach, you are here to listen.  Raise your hand if you finish before I do!”  

Finally, our textbook, which still sits on my bookshelf, comes back to haunt me.   The American Pageant has been reprinted 13 times, but it continues to prove its original author’s observation: “Old myths never die – they just become embedded in textbooks.” 

Pageant is just one of 18 current texts examined by historian James Loewen whose best seller, “Lies My Teacher Told Me,” makes it abundantly clear that we are still trapped by Eurocentric misconceptions that “precolonial” native Americans had little to contribute to our culture, lacked technology (including guns), and had no idea what was really meant by property ownership.   Multicultural diversity and mutual accommodation were quite real 300 years ago, but the textbook I used as a resource never let this interfere with the story that white society was superior in every way and sanctioned by God.  

If I were teaching our history today, given adequate primary sources, I would start by coaching students to understand that acculturation works in many reciprocal directions.  I would ask them to enliven their learning by investigating their own ancestry as well as the embedded roots of today’s hot issues.  I would urge my students to ask why questions, the kind that demand the use of primary sources and live interviews.  

As for our native population, these days I would ask my students to consider what is meant by “America First” when we have 326 Indian reservations in our country, each one considered a sovereign nation.  Indeed, I have learned that history is a moving target.  We interact with it constantly, and thereby it changes. Ignoring our past may not mean that we repeat its mistakes, but its echoes send important messages. 

  Fortunately, as my first year of teaching flew by, I began to discover how to make U.S. history an empathetic experience.  An English teacher colleague and I were given time to co-teach a short course on World War I.  By mating historical events with fictional novels, we tried to immerse our students in the emotional grips of war and its devastating consequences.  We sought to help students feel how others felt, and to encourage and integrate different perspectives.   At other times, I staged debates and encouraged my students to present reasoned arguments, so they could advance and defend both sides of issues.  I started to rely on cooperative and differentiated approaches, hoping to individualize lessons and to avoid the one-way street of endless lecturing.

As I gained ground in teaching, I grew to appreciate the challenge of making history topically relevant and fair minded.  It is tempting to grab pieces out of context, but it takes enlightened teaching to help our children see it clearly and without premature and poorly informed judgments.

 Our collective civic future is at risk.  We have let our own history become a stomping ground for publishers rather than fertile territory for critical thinking, for exercising communication skills, for self-discovery and compassion.   There are multiple dots between America’s past and present.   When we connect those dots, we must look between the lines to see and feel the whole landscape with its many different routes to truth.     

Once in a Lifetime Came Jim Vetro

Once in a Lifetime Came Jim Vetro

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

When James Vetro interviewed me for a position as his assistant, he quickly discovered I knew almost nothing about state aid to our public schools.  In 1975, this amounted to over three billion dollars’ worth of ignorance.  I knew that Jim’s position as director of research for the New York State School Boards Association (NYSSBA) was closely identified with his expertise in school finance.  I was finishing a doctorate in school administration at the state university at Albany, but only one course in all my studies had involved school business administration, much less state aid, so I figured my chances of employment were slim.  Thankfully I was quite wrong!

Jim Vetro’s priority was someone he could get along with, someone with a decent personality, as he told me a few years later.  Apparently, mine fit.  I guess he figured he would always be around to field the multitude of complex finance questions that came daily from superintendents and board members, while I would learn to fill in the gaps.   

Within a couple of weeks, I discovered that Jim had meetings and other duties that often called him away.  When state aid negotiations demanded technical expertise, quite regularly the media called or arrived for an interview.  Further, I discovered that superintendents phoned frequently because their annual proposed or actual school aid entitlement was falling short.  Why the hell, they wanted to know, were they being shortchanged?  When this happened, they were usually scrutinizing pages of computer runs, finding unpredictable formula-driven variations.  Of course, I had no idea what to tell them.  And when the news media got to me because Jim was elsewhere, I was terrified that I would make a dump ass of myself.  However, Jim had a solution of sorts.

He introduced me to a couple of well-seasoned colleagues in the state education department who were patiently willing to rescue me with simplified details about operating aid’s dependence on weighted pupil counts, full or market valuation of property, and all kinds of separate categorical aids for everything from transportation to excess cost for children with disabilities.  I worried that the old finance guys would soon retire, but in the meantime, I called them with frantic abandon, and then proceeded to make seemingly calm calls back to superintendents.  I fooled them unless they asked me yet another question.  Still, I was relieved to find that most superintendents had no more technical knowledge of formulas than I did.

Within a few months, I became conversant with the basics of school finance.  My responsibilities expanded with Jim Vetro’s good-humored, consistently genial mentoring.  School board members and superintendents really adored him simply because he was genuinely likeable and deeply knowledgeable about his field.  I benefitted from being around him.  In retrospect, I realize that Jim really changed my professional and personal life in so many unusual ways. 

Jim Vetro thrived on habits.  One was singular dedication to staying in shape.  Thus he took time on many days of the week to walk to the nearby Albany downtown YMCA where he enjoyed an abundant group of workout friends.  I joined his athletic fraternity enthusiastically, thereby connecting with a host of state agency pros who added to my sense of belonging. 

One of Jim’s fortes was school budgeting workshops, conducted around the state during the winter months.  He recruited superintendents, NYSED managers, and school business officials to present at these, and I believe they felt it was an honor.   My job was to sweat bullets while dealing with banquet managers who all too often forgot to arrange for a meeting room, or a speaker system, or a group lunch.

I also importuned the speakers to give me their written remarks, and tried to keep them on schedule.  As I look back on it, however, winter weather on the N.Y. Thruway was our biggest challenge.  Thankfully Jim seldom hesitated to drive his monster Cadillac through lake effect snowstorms to get us to and from our workshops.

Jim represented the Association as a founding member of the Educational Conference Board (ECB) which included representatives from the teacher unions, superintendents, school business officials, and principals.  The ECB always advocated more state aid, levelled up so no organization would experience equalization at the expense of another.  Through this organization, I became acquainted with Jim’s counterparts in these organizations.  The networking helped me gain confidence and valuable contacts, especially because my duties included sitting with the ECB members routinely at meetings of the Board of Regents. 

Over the years my two children were born.  My wife and I had no relatives nearby to step in when emergencies arose, so we were immensely grateful that Jim unfailingly supported me with no questions ever asked.  He and his wife Peg were always tuned in to our needs; conversely everyone stood ready to help the Vetros when they encountered tragedies.   

Jim’s physical appearance accentuated his big moustache and a curly head of brindled hair, combined with a deeply tanned complexion.  Reinforced by his genial, though sometimes stubborn personality, his bearing earned Jim the moniker of “Italian stallion”.   This was often previewed by a chronically strong cologne that announced his presence beforehand. 

Colleagues, board members, and superintendents all found Jim Vetro an open, honest, and truly likeable man with a disarming sense of humor.  I thrived on his dynamic personality and interpersonal ease.  He always seemed to be in my corner, to willingly protect me from the slings and arrows of state association work.   When someone like James Vetro comes along, with assets that combine both professionalism and personal charms, it may well happen only once, and we must count ourselves just plain lucky. 

2/6/19

Idioms Tell Volumes About Us

Idioms Tell Volumes About Us

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Whether we call them idioms, colloquialisms, or odd expressions, they load the English language with terms that confound teachers and learners alike.  The more they are repeated and used publicly, the more idioms are likely to take root in our psyche and become a shortcut for deceptive meanings.  

Simply defined, an idiom is a phrase whose meaning is hard to predict from its parts. It cannot be taken literally.  Say you are an English language learner and I tell you I am sick as a dog.  This phrase comes from the 17^th century, but as a “newbie” to English, you might wonder why this is so bad.  Actually, dogs are known for vomiting frequently.  If I tell you this means being under the weather, meanings grow even more confusing.  Maybe I am just trying to escape bad weather because it is raining cats and dogs.  Or maybe I could be cured by some hair of the dog, also known as alcohol.  

Where do we find idioms?  Largely in everyday or colloquial conversations.  Their mates are slang, contractions, and profanity.  Despite never taking Latin in school (wish I had), and failing dismally at crossword puzzles, I really enjoy idioms.  Recently I made a list of those I use frequently.  I kept a cell phone recorder nearby because they disappear into “thin air” (yet another idiom). 

A review of the list surprised me.  Animal references are favorites.  My summer is filled with dog days, often I am dog tired, perhaps because I get up at sparrow’s fart (really early, thanks to the British).  Doggonit, I will always believe in puppy love, and I find it is never too late to teach an old dog new tricks.

 Efforts like this make me sweat like a stuck pig.  Still, I sleep as snug as a bug in a rug and never let bed bugs bite.   I regard despicable people as lower than whale waste.  I prefer to avoid those whose mouths run like a whippoorwill’s butt, preferring not to meet them in a dog’s age.  Lately, when I wash my hands of problems, I am likely to utter under my breath, “Not my circus, not my monkeys”. Sometimes caught between a rock and a hard place, or not seeing the forest through the trees, I decide there is more than one way to skin a cat.  

Living here in western New York, I belabor the weather.  Favorite idioms come from my dad who was an inveterate coastal fisherman.  Good weather could be predicted from the sailor’s delight of a red sky at night. However, the same in the morning always meant that sailors should take warning.  And “mackerel sky, not long wet nor yet long dry” predicts changeable conditions, which can include fog “thick a blue dungeon.”

Two of the more colorful expressions cemented into my memory come my Air Force experience teaching English in Vietnam. A Louisiana bunk mate used to crack me up when he complained, “That is harder than stuffing a pad of butter up a wildcat’s butt with a hot knitting needle.” On another occasion our commanding officer drove our jeep barely under the landing gear of an incoming C-123.  As we breathed a sign of relief, he turned and said, “Well, no guts no glory.”  I still use that idiom in hairy situations.

I fall back on language from the Bible all the time, thanks to my dad’s religious upbringing.  I find myself advising:  ask and ye shall receive; as ye sew so shall ye reap; there but for the grace of God go I.; and let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

Certain life style expressions have become idioms of choice in my household.  Included are:  persistence always triumphs; what goes around comes around; first paint the target, then shoot the arrow; cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face; the horse is out of the barn; and if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. And when something really puzzles us, for some reason we say, “No kidding Dick Tracy!” 

Our idioms tell volumes about our origins, what we read or see on tv, and the people who have influenced us.  I suggest you draw up a list and share it with your relatives and friends.  You might find yourself moon struck or gob smacked at the end of the day.    

Adventures on the Country Roads of Italy

Adventures on the Country Roads of Italy  

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

One of the best ways to learn when traveling is to make comparisons.  It gives us firsthand knowledge.   We can learn about other places and civilizations by exercising all of our senses.  Because our own lives are a reference point, we can learn a tremendous amount about ourselves at the same time.  If we stay open-minded, feel safe, and avoid political opinions, international travel can be vitalizing and fun.  A recent bus tour of both city and country locations in Italy certainly gave my wife Hillary and me a unique appreciation of its deep history and sheer beauty.    

Our jaunt included 35 adventurous seniors from several countries.   Jackie, our tour director, is bilingual and passionate about all things Italian.  The bus ride alone was a continuous listening and learning experience.  We also enjoyed local guides who enriched our days with unique historical descriptions and anecdotes.  We hiked over miles of cobblestones and up and down stairs.  In the evening, after a couple of eight-course dinners lubricated by local wines, our tour group bonded over vintage rock and roll music.  

 My purpose here is to make a few simple comparisons with our home country.  First, consider the landscape.  It seems hard to believe that forests cover about one third of both the United States and Italy.  Our impression was that every available acre of Italian country is planted with olive and fruit trees, wheat and maize, and endless rows of grape vines. Volcanic soil is perfect for agriculture.

Cities like Rome and Florence have been built on the accretions of previous inhabitants over thousands of years.  In Tuscany and Umbria, hill towns built on volcanic tuff perch above high walls that may conceal caves and parts of ancient neighborhoods.  Pompeii, an entire city frozen in 79 AD by volcanic ash from Mt. Vesuvius, has no American equivalent.       

 Italy is geographically narrow and long while the U.S. sprawls in every direction.  Old and permanent, Italian landmarks are built from bricks covered with mortar.  Perhaps this is because the Romans, borrowing from their predecessors, invented bricks, made narrow walkways from basalt (volcanic rock) that lasts forever, and clustered their towns to protect against historical enemies.  Related factors may be the centralizing feature of cathedrals as well as the communal style of life around piazzas. The splendor of Christianity is enshrined in architectural masterpieces.

 By way of contrast, American towns and homes seem much newer given our short history, use of flammable wood as building material, huge land mass, and our restless mobility.  Americans and Italians are marvelous architects, but ancient Romans mastered the mechanics in ways we still copy.  Prompted partly by the need to move and house large armies, the Romans constructed straight roads, aqueducts, and municipal buildings with extraordinary efficiency.     

Trying to compare Italians and Americans based on a tourist view is a challenge. We certainly noticed that Italian service folks were patient, courteous, and spoke basic English.  When they do speak Italian, their words seem to roll out like an animated avalanche, typically punctuated by hand gestures.  As for style, Italians have a distinctive flair.  They cherish colorful traditions, stylish garb, and superb craftsmanship. 

 Italian road vehicles and driving habits contrast with ours, not so much on their “strada principali” but on city streets and on winding country roads.  Tiny compact cars and motorbikes weave down narrow roads, overlook traffic laws, and cram into every available parking space.  Busses seem to fit easily around tight corners because of wheels that turn at right angles.   Our bus driver Enzo adeptly navigated torturous roads clinging to sea cliffs so we chipped in and purchased a Ferrari driving experience for him when we visited the factory and museum.  

 We found Italian food delightfully fresh and varied, not spicy at all, supplied by nearby farm markets.  Multi-course dinners included antipasti, a typical first course of pasta, then vegetables and meats.  Pizza is sort of a gesture for tourists. The best desserts are found at corner gelato nooks.  We were told that real Italian gelato contains no fat, is not inflated with air, and is made from wholly organic ingredients.  Thus I gained some pounds, while also learning to appreciate abundant wines which are intended to be consumed with food.  

Many of our misconceptions disappeared as we traveled.  For instance, Venetian canals are mostly fresh and clean.  The Verona balcony where Romeo and Juliet allegedly declared their vows may be a tourist attraction, but Shakespeare invented it.  And the white that we saw on distant mountains is not snow, but rather carrara marble quarried today in Tuscany as it was in the days of Michelangelo.

Finally, something called “campanilismo” is probably the most vital ingredient of Italian life.  Remember, for most of its history Italy was anything but unified, so a positive provincialism still thrives.  An American parallel might be the traditional small town that deeply appreciates its heritage.  In Italian communities, you can feel it in well preserved city centers, old cafes, nearby churches, clean streets, and the friendly rhythms of life around the municipal bell towers.

 Throughout our trip, we realized that each separate region of the country rivals the art, history, and civilization of entire nations elsewhere.  No other country in the world has 53 world heritage sites.  Now we know why.  We want to return.