Month / March 2025

by nflanagan

Coming to Life: Woodchippers and Community Builders

Maybe it’s 35 years of working in a classroom, but here’s what I think: it’s too bad that there aren’t more teachers in Congress.

Teachers generally know how to encourage recalcitrant students, stand up to student bullies, kick butt and make it stick, not to put too fine a point on it. Congress is acting like that 7th hour class with the wrong mix of kids, people who just can’t seem to work together. And if you have to ask why it’s important for students to work together, you’ve obviously never been a teacher.

As I watch what I hope is the nascent rise of a nation coming to life, reclaiming its identity, I am reminded again and again of the basics of K-12 community-making: Be kind, a team player. Show up and persist. Build some joy into whatever you’re doing. And keep your promises. We’re in this together.

If your job involves teaching 30 unwilling 4th graders to master two-digit division, you have to show up and persist—and also build some fun into the persisting. Because joy is the end goal—having the skills to pursue a good life. Accomplishing something important.

Not sure what’s happening where you live—but here in Northern Michigan, people are paying attention and organizing. Plenty of social change movements fade away (I knit 16 pussy hats and can only locate one at the moment), but the upcoming events calendar is full. If it only takes 3.5% of the population to foment change, we can do this.

What’s on my agenda? A Zoom messaging workshop. A book group that is reading and discussing Project 2025. Even a sermon, last Sunday, on “Embracing Diversity.”

On Saturday, there was an empty-chair Town Hall, featuring a cutout of Jack Bergman, Congressional Representative for the largest—geographic—district (CD One) in Michigan. Bergman is not a Michigan native, and in fact his primary residence appears to be in Louisiana.  In 2016 and 2018 the Bergmans listed a metal storage building at 5070 South Cisco Lake Road as their single family residence. The problem with this is the fact that the building has electricity, but no rooms nor septic field and was used to store trailers and boats.

And yes, I think that it’s Michigan’s responsibility to offload an election denier and traitor to the military, where he was once a Brigadier General—especially since he has shown zero evidence of caring about his constituents, many of whom live in Michigan’s poorest and most remote counties. The ones where hospitals are dependent on Medicaid, for example. There are no Tesla dealerships in the entire Upper Peninsula.

The Town Hall was wonderful—seating was limited (and the weather was dicey) but over 1000 people attended, in person or via livestream. Questions were not pre-screened. Just people taking turns at the microphones, pouring out their anger, their pain, their uncertainty. A special education teacher (who got a rousing ovation). A ‘recovering psychiatrist’ who warned us (acknowledging the ethics violation) that we were being governed by a malignant narcissist. Moms, nurses, dishwashers, authors and physicians.

And this comment from a veteran:
“My son is a veteran. I am a veteran. My father is a veteran. My grandfather is a veteran. And my great-grandfather is a veteran. Jack Bergman, you are a veteran. You’re a jarhead like my dad… and like my father, like my entire family, you took a vow; a very important vow. You vowed to (and here, the audience joined in) defend the Constitution and the Republic against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

Where the [expletive] are your vows, Jack? You are a disgrace to the uniform. You are a disgrace to the office that you hold. You are a disgrace to this country. And Jack, if you are too feeble and too afraid to stand up for what is right and to fulfill your vows, then it is time for you to step aside and let somebody else do it. Semper Fi.”

Turning to see the speaker, I noticed that the man behind me, in camo zip-up and olive drab beanie, had tears streaming down his cheeks.

I think something is happening. What we need now is showing up and persisting, keeping the faith. Remembering to have fun—because we want to live joyfully, to move forward.

In two weeks, I’ll be at the Network for Public Education conference in Columbus, Ohio.

Trump (or Musk, or whoever’s running the country) is putting public education through the woodchipper at the moment. There is already a bill filed in the MI (yes, Michigan) legislature to support shutting down the federal Department of Education, essentially saying ‘just send us the money—we’ll take it from there.’

It’s all pretty grim. I need to get together with my people, which is what I’m planning to do in Columbus. We’re in this together.

by nflanagan

Trump and his “Aptitude for Music”

There are so many things to be said about the ongoing demolition of the American government that your average reader—even someone who follows politics closely–can’t keep up. Everything from the Massive Erroneous Deportation to the Declaration of Independence in the Oval Office to the biggest upward transfer of wealth in history. Not to mention Goodbye to the Department of Education.

Lots of great writing about where we find ourselves as a nation, as well—I am learning to get along without the Washington Post, with the great political commentary coming from independent newsletters like The Contrarian, Meidas, Robert Reich, Heather Cox Richardson, Lucian Truscott, The Education Wars and the Bulwark, which are only the ones I’m currently paying for. Can’t add much, beyond my personal open-mouthed horror, to the wall-to-wall political coverage available.

However. Here’s one inane Trump declaration where I have considerable expertise: Touring Kennedy Center, Trump Mused on His Childhood ‘Aptitude for Music.’ 

In case you’ve missed it (and you’re forgiven if you have): President Donald J. Trump — who recently overhauled the once-bipartisan board of directors at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and installed it with loyalists who elected him to serve as its chairman — held court Monday in a place that he had not publicly visited during either of his terms in office: the Kennedy Center.

Remarks were made to the Washington Post by Trump officials who recently toured the arts venue and described it as “filthy,” noted that it “smelled of vomit,” and added that they “saw rats.”

But not to worry! Trump alone can fix the Kennedy Center. In fact, Trump—who could have been a superb musician, if his parents hadn’t pushed him into becoming an outstanding athlete and phenomenally successful businessman instead— can add “born arts connoisseur” to his  already-substantial resume’. Because ‘the test’ showed what we’ve all missed: the guy who bragged about punching out his music teacher in second grade was really an untapped musical genius.  

First of all: Hahhahahhahaha.

Like all Trump anecdotes—Sir! Sir!– this one is mainly bullshit: He told the assembled board members that in his youth he had shown special abilities in music after taking aptitude tests ordered by his parents, according to three participants in the meeting. He could pick out notes on the piano, he told the board members.

If you polled actual music teachers, all of them could tell you stories about small children whose parents considered them exceptional, because they could dance to a beat , clap a rhythm or pick out a tune on the keyboard. Many of them had a great-grandmother who taught piano or uncle who was a whiz on the saxophone—thereby confirming that their talent was inherent, according to mom.

Some of those kids (especially the ones whose parents encouraged practice and persistence, attending every concert) turned out to be good musicians, after some basic musical instruction. Others, not so much.

Second: Testing children’s innate musical ability has fallen out of favor, for the same reasons that other standardized testing has been rightfully criticized. In the post-war years, a ‘musical abilities test’—the Seashore Test—was popular, often used to determine who should get to use expensive school-owned instruments. I took it myself, in the 4th grade.

What the Seashore Test did, mostly, was identify kids who had some musical experience—piano lessons, singing in the church choir, music-making in their families. Because the more you do music, the better your ‘ear’ and sense of rhythm. Kind of like the way kids who go on family trips to the library or museum get a leg up on other kids, when tested on their reading abilities or content knowledge.

Is there such a thing as talent? Sure. But testing as a means of determining talent—or taste, or creativity—when the testee is a child is pointless. Genuine, exceptional talent emerges as a result of passion and tenacity and, sometimes, good luck.

Here’s a story about my own failing in assessing talent, as a music teacher.

Why did such testing fade away? Because it missed a lot of students who became strong musicians—singers and trombonists, the lead in the school musical—down the road.

Lesson learned: ALL children should all enjoy making music in our schools. Because you never know if someday your child might be Chair of the Kennedy Center Board.

by nflanagan

Eve of Destruction: How Close Are We?

From a brilliant essay with scholarly references by Laurie Winer, on Timothy Snyder’s Substack:

As we brace for further actions from a cabinet catering to a serial fabulist, it is important to note that the president’s abstruse nonsense is not random. It has a history. A history that takes us in only one direction, to catastrophe.

Winer gives us six researched markers of what will happen, on this eve of destruction. The first one:

It was this observation that made me decide to read the rest of the column, because it’s precisely where most of my somewhere-on-the-liberal-scale friends and colleagues are, right now.

I belong to two women’s groups that meet regularly and that’s exactly what we’ve been doing for the past four months—agonizing about the headlines over pastries and coffee. If that’s what the well-meaning housewives of Dachau were chatting about in 1933– Was baut Herr Hitler da drüben?—we are in serious trouble. Because a fair chunk of the population isn’t paying attention yet.

Is this a constitutional crisis? Or is this an existential crisis, as evidenced by collaborative Democrats yesterday (including one of my own senators)?  

America is facing an existential crisis. This is a fight for the survival of our democracy. Yes, a government shutdown is a terrible thing, but it would have created the conditions for a real fight against the intolerable and quickening plummet into oligarchy and fascism. The surrender also fails to recognize the useful role that public protests would have played during a shutdown to push back against the Republicans.

Are we, truly, on the Eve of Destruction? I ask this because young people in 1965, when P.F. Sloan wrote the song Eve of Destruction, are now drawing Social Security checks. Are they ready to return to the streets in unrelenting public protests, the kind that ended the Vietnam war or took Nixon down? Is it going to take messing with Social Security and Medicaid for Boomers to wake up?

It’s easy to laugh at Eve of Destruction today—kind of a one-hit wonder, reminiscent of flower power, that was banned by radio stations across the country for being “too controversial:”

Think of all the hate there is in Red China
Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama
Ah, you may leave here for four days in space
But when you return, it’s the same old place
Hate your next door neighbor but don’t forget to say grace

Sixty years later—and with the knowledge that the republic did, indeed, survive and even thrive—this all feels pretty idealistic, even innocent. But not all constitutional/existential crises are survivable, mere storms that rock, but don’t sink, the great ship.

Here are the other historical markers shared by Laurie Winer (read the linked essay):

  • People around you will forget that they once were anti-Trump.
  • The administration will issue absurd denunciations of opponents whose expertise is needed.
  • There will be parades and possibly mandatory public displays of support for the administration.
  • News sources will disappear or be radically altered.
  • MAGA will continue to believe what the leader says up until the very brink of disaster.

Any of those resonate?

When I saw Trump being driven around the Daytona 500 track, I remembered how he wanted military parades in his honor, missile trailers destroying the concrete of Washington streets, and camo-clad, heavy-booted soldiers carrying weapons.

Nobody’s talking him down from his bad decisions and co-conspirators—the ‘cabinet catering to a serial fabulist,’ per Winer—any more.

Surreal, indeed.

by nflanagan

Goodbye to the Department of Education

Lots of my fellow ed-bloggers are musing fretfully about what appears to be the imminent demise of the Department of Education (ED, in DC insider parlance). There’s a lot to say about laying off half the employees at a vital federal institution and crushing its ongoing critical functions. Some are hanging on to the idea that only Congress can disappear the ED, but I have my doubts.

Chasten Buttigieg, spouse of the former Transportation Secretary (and person who lives near me) suggested on Bluesky today: If Linda McMahon and the Department of Education believe in “efficiency and accountability” (after laying off half of the department), then I’m sure they’ll gladly publish a list of every position that has been eliminated and why that position is no longer needed.

As if.

Speaking as a person who was already four years into her teaching career when Jimmy Carter got the ED through Congress and running, I clearly remember the parade of Famous Political Operatives (including Reagan, the Republican party and various right-wing caucuses) who pooh-poohed the idea that education was important enough to have its own Department and Secretary.

They were all operating from the same standpoint: Too much tax money for public education, too much federal say-so on what should be state and local decisions. Classic conservative positions. The Detroit News has been referring to public education as a massive entitlement program for years.

Those reasons were not enough to take down the ED, however. And the Department went merrily on, as bureaucratic institutions do, making things better for kids with disabilities and establishing programs to continuously improve public education. Theoretically.

Some of those programs and laws administered by ED—NCLB, grandchild of the ESEA, springs to mind—were not popular with those staffing the 13,000+ public school districts in the U.S. But the ED had a core function that we all could get behind, beautifully illustrated yesterday by this AP headline: The Education Department was created to ensure equal access. Who would do that in its absence?

Without the department, advocates worry the federal government would not look out in the same way for poor students, those still learning English, disabled students and racial and ethnic minorities.

There was a time when I would entertain arguments about whether the Department of Education was entirely a force for good. I was disabused of this notion by Renee Moore, a brilliant and dedicated educator who taught in the Mississippi Delta. Without a federal force to protect public education, she pointed out, Mississippi could easily slide backward into the segregated, utterly neglected public schools that made up its past. We can’t trust states to equitably take care of the children who live there, especially those in poverty, she said. The federal government gives us a backstop.

I thought about Renee this morning, when I read this statistic: The share of K12 funding provided by the federal government ranges from 23% in Mississippi to 7% in New York. Overall, in 2021-22, average federal education spending was 17% in states that voted for Trump in 2024 versus 11% in states that voted for Harris.

Education Week also had an interesting piece up today, Can Trump Do That? Which Actions on Education Are Legal, and Which Ones Aren’t? It’s paywalled, but the gist is that in 11 federal education programs that Trump has indicated he will destroy, in some way, he’s on legal (but distasteful) footing in only one. The rest, he technically can’t do, via a wave of his magic Elon-wand.

But we all know where Trump and Musk are going. We see it with our own disbelieving eyes. Rules, schmules. And the states that are going to get hurt the most are his most loyal base.

Lots of Trump’s executive orders are easily reversible. Don’t take your Sharpie to the Gulf of Mexico. But destroying the Department of Education is a Category Five injury to the concept of a free, high-quality education for every American child, regardless of what they bring to the table.

by nflanagan

Diversity, Political Culture and Middle School Band

Like all educators, I’ve been following the repercussions of the “Dear Colleague” letter the federal government sent to public schools, threatening to cut off funding for schools that dabble in things like human rights and accurate history. The fact that the poor, strapped (snort) Department of Education used some of their evidently dwindling resources to set up a snitch line so parents could rat out teachers and school leaders is telling.

Dear Colleague, my ass.

More like Big Brother is watching. Or Here’s Our Grand Portal of baseless conspiracy theories and fear-mongering to support so-called “parents’ rights”—jump right in!

To make this all seem “normal,” the ED sent out a nine page read-what-our-lawyers-say explainer that further muddies the waters. The purpose of this second epistle seemed to be upping the threat while appearing to be efficient and legal-ish.

Many times, in my long career as a vocal and instrumental music teacher, I’ve had dear colleagues (ahem) express mild envy over that fact that the general public saw my subject discipline as what we used to call a “frill”—nice, but neither substantial nor essential.

Parents, these teachers suggested, didn’t really care about what kids were learning or singing in music class. It was an elective, not part of the more important career-preparation/serious-academics curriculum. In other words, my students were not being tested on the music curriculum, like theirs were. In band and choir class, we were just, you know, playing around. Fluff.

As you may imagine, I’ve written countless blogs and think pieces about what kids take away from a quality music program. If you think that the arts are a value-free zone—not tested, so not important—I’ve got news for you.

The classroom where I spent more than 30 years, teaching secondary vocal and instrumental music, was a platform for learning about lots more than the fingering for Eb and how long to hold a dotted quarter note. It was a place where we could explore how the music that students are marinating in, 24/7, came to be—a cultural voyage, through time and place, and the human response to make art reflecting the artist’s circumstances.

Proof of that–a couple of days ago, a young band director, on a Facebook page for instrumental music, asked his dear virtual colleagues for advice on this dilemma: His 8th grade band had been preparing Moscow 1941, a terrific composition, for an upcoming performance. Given the current fluctuating official opinion on Russia, Russia, Russia, he was stymied by his middle schoolers asking if they were playing a Russian march to show support for the Trump administration.

What do I do? he asked. Do I tell them Russians were the good guys in 1941, but not now? Do I say it’s just notes and rhythms, forget the title? Do I just pick something else? The kids like the piece and we have it ready for performance. Also—I’ve already talked to the kids about great Russian composers and the dark and moody music they have produced, over centuries.

First—I love that there’s an online forum for discussing these professional issues. Responses were mostly thoughtful, ranging from “tell kids the truth about Russia, then and now” (including a couple of good resources) to “get your principal involved.” There were also a few “avoid conflict, always—dump the piece” responses, which I took as evidence that teachers, in general, are rightfully anxious about threats from federal, state and local officials. Music programs are chronically in the crosshairs and choosing music that Trump-voting parents could misinterpret could be risky.

The discussion morphed into examples of band directors who chose music to represent Ukraine, and other masterworks inspired by political events, like Karel Husa’s Music for Prague, 1968. This is what the arts are supposed to do—help us make sense of the world.

Back in the 1990s, I bought a piece for my middle school bands called A Lantern in the Window, a musical depiction of the Underground Railroad. There was a quiet, spooky opening, followed by a pulse-pounding chase, and the piece ended with a richly harmonized quote from an old Negro spiritual, Steal Away to Jesus.

I programmed Lantern often, every two or three years, because it was a perfect teaching piece. There were multiple tempos and styles, and I could talk about the use of familiar songs, how a few measures could remind us of a powerful cultural idea.

Students always wondered why an enslaved person would believe in Jesus—and yes, these conversations had to be carefully handled. But they were worth it. They illustrated the power of music to tell an important story. And that, I thought, was the heart of my job.

Last week, “The President’s Own” Marine Band quietly canceled a concert program originally billed as the “Equity Arc Wind Symphony.” The performance was to be the culmination of a “multi-day music intensive with musicians from ‘The President’s Own’” and high school musician fellows selected through auditions organized by the Chicago-based Equity Arc, a nonprofit organization that provides “specialized mentoring support for young BIPOC musicians and helps institutions take meaningful steps toward equity and inclusion.”

When I see stories like this in the news, I wonder how music teachers, specifically, can stand against federal threats. Our job—our low-paying, high-importance, mega-stressful job—is to give children of all ages, colors and abilities the chance to love, understand and perform music. Politicizing that—for whatever stupid reason—is both wrong and damaging to children and to our American culture. That’s a good reason to push back.

I have empathy for teachers, like the band director worried about Moscow, 1941, but I also know that huge masses of the middle class workers will have to stand against the takeover of our government and our national culture in order to stop the carnage going on right now.

Deep breath. Buck up. There is lots of work to do.