my first blog

By Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. The great city of Atlanta and many other Georgia towns are, at this very moment, in the throws of the latest installment of their ongoing school cheating scandal. It’s a scandal that could take place in most any school district, but which is worst in Atlanta, a city that has well and truly lost its moral compass . Here no one, whatever their high titles and educational degrees and licenses, is responsible for anything.

And so I have selected for the music to accompany this article, Chaka Khan’s tune “Ain’t Nobody” (released 1983)… because in Atlanta ain’t nobody educatin’, ain’t nobody learnin’, ain’t nobody leadin’, ain’t nobody truth tellin’… and ain’t nobody cleanin’ up the mess and galvanizing the folks so that Atlanta can hold up its head again… proud of its achievements, not abashed by its lies, deceptions and deceits. You can find Chaka Khan’s tune in any search engine. Get it now… and let its pulse get you in the mood not just for disgust, outrage and indignation but for the hard work of school and municipal reform which must start at once, this very day… And don’t read this article with any smugness at all… for you cannot be sure the “educators” in your town aren’t doing the same things but just haven’t been caught yet.

Who’s bright idea was this anyway?

Investigators and the public may never know the name of the first educator who erased the wrong test answer and entered the correct one, and if there were only one such infraction, or even just a few more, we could simply say, “There are always some bad apples in any barrel.” But this is not what happened in Atlanta… where, at least 178 Public School employees in 44 schools, including 38 principals, all decided, some independently, some working together, to alter standardized test results.

Now think about this for a moment.

Each of these educators has gone through years of (we hope) rigorous training, with degrees and licenses to prove their hard work and diligence.

Each will swear on a stack of Bibles that they believe in education and that they are well and truly dedicated to helping students achieve success through the application of high standards of learning and instruction.

Each would take the most sacred oath that cheating, altering test results, passing off another’s work as your own, and all the other egregious forms of educational mendacity are wrong… and can never be tolerated at any time…. and that educators who perform these deeds should and must be punished and driven out of the Academy forthwith fueled by the indignation of the worthy.

Every teacher, every administrator would, I know, signify in any way requested their adamant belief in these propositions… and yet an astounding, astonishing number of these same teachers and administrators altered test results with their own hands… risking their careers and sacrificing their self-respect and honor to do deeds which all knew were wrong and which each abominates and deplores.

How had so many gone so wrong?

While there is finger-pointing all around, the most digits are pointed at former Superintendent Beverly Hall (1999-2011). Her mantra was “performance, performance, performance” which was what the people wanted…. but which morphed over time to “performance at any cost” with the emphasis on the “any”. In the Hall Administration you got the Superintendent’s eye (and extra bennies and emoluments) by demonstrating improved, increasing, dazzling performance. She, once so voluble, now has “no comment”.

The problem is, education doesn’t work like a machine process, a conveyor belt delivering better product for less. Oh, no, education is not remotely like that. Education is a slow, incremental process, where results today, with today’s students, are determined by what each previous teacher in each grade was able to achieve with each student. There is no activity slower than education… nor one in which so many each have a part to play.

Each and every teacher and administrator knows this… but each one decided that pleasing the powers that be was more important than doing the hard work of focusing on each student, with painstaking dedication, effort, and patience. And thus with a simple pencil eraser did each erase everything each knew to be true, good and necessary about their vocation… thereby shaming themselves, their city, their honorable colleagues, and, of course, the students who were, with each erasure and substitution, bereft of what they needed so desperately, a real education, an education of merit, of high standards set and high standards achieved, and above all of honest endeavor and honest testing and review.

As I said, finger pointing is rampant as everyone scurries to save themselves in an environment where there is now intense scrutiny and a desire to see heads roll and so demonstrate that there is a new broom sweeping clean. Interim Superintendent Erroll B. Davis, Jr. says that the prevailing “culture of fear and intimidation” in his predecessor Hall’s regime must be changed. “People,” he says, “felt that it was easier to cheat than to miss their goals and objectives.”

Not just one incident, but a series of incidents.

Americans, of course, want fast answers to endemic problems. And here is no exception. The people don’t want to believe they were thoroughly betrayed by the very people they must rely upon the most: the teachers, educators, and administrators charged with the sacred objective of lifting their children, one step at a time,to a higher, better place.

But the current scandal is just that — “current”, for the good citizens of Atlanta have been cheated by the cheaters since 2001 at least, and quite possibly longer.

Over the course of the last decade, one cheating scandal after another has punctuated the Atlanta school calendar. All bear a dreary resemblance to each other. High standards are set which cannot be met, though those setting them reap a torrent of praise for such daring and boldness.

In due course, though, the high standards are shown to be too high, unrealistic, overly ambitious. Cheaters enter to bridge the difference between what is… and what could never be. And, in due course, these cheaters, or at least some of them, are caught… to the outrage of citizens and short-changed students.

And so new leaders are brought in, who set unrealistic goals and tell you they have the necessary skills, you betcha, to achieve the objective and make Atlanta proud… yet in due course they, too, fail — but only after reaping educational awards and honors for proclaiming goals too steep to achieve. Thus they, too, are discarded and villified.

And all the while the students of Atlanta are bereft of the education they must have and have every right to expect. They do not get it because their parents, their teachers, their elected officials and bureaucrats at every level will pontificate about education… but will not engage in the slow painstaking business of educating one student at a time… for they want an education to be what no education has ever been: a machine process, an assembly-line activity… and until the citizens of Atlanta know this and demand this these humiliating, demeaning, abashing scandals must and will continue.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. at www.worldprofit.com, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati. Check out Mass Traffic Accelerator -> http://www.SmartWealthSolutions.com/?rd=dn4be8Ha

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. Today is Saturday, November 12, 2011. And Americans with well-worn pennants and blissful memories of picture perfect days like this when they were young and gleeful will today gather at gridirons around the nation… there to participate in the great rite of football. If they are lucky, alma mater will have a fight song as great as the one that ignites the crowd at Penn State… which causes even the most ancient and arthritic to jump up… and remember. when they were young, boundless in their hopes and expectations; loyal to God, country, college, and… the team.

We all know that feeling and we just cannot get enough of it. Thus, to put yourself in the mood, go to any search engine and find that fight song — “The Nittany Lion” — one of the best — then turn the sound up and play it… “But of all the honored idols. There’s but one that stands the test. It’s the stately Nittany Lion. The symbol of our best…”

Joe Paterno, the winningest coach in the history of the Great Republic.

Until just a few days ago when the shocking, sordid facts of the scandal broke upon a first disbelieving nation, Joe Paterno, head coach at fortunate Penn State, was moving towards the end of his career wafted by the incense of millions of people around the nation… who venerated the man, his vision, what he stood for, and not least of all the golden touch that turned Penn State from a mere college town, to a site of pilgrimage for the faithful. It was heady stuff, as close to perfection as mortals ever know. All that was needed to complete the scene was the explosion of affection at his last home game… and a trip to the White House to receive the nation’s highest honor, the Medal of Freedom, from the hands of the President of the United States, an event eagerly promoted by Pennsylvania’s two United States senators, star struck like all the rest. A great American story was about to be concluded to the satisfaction of all.

But as any student of classics could tell you, this isn’t how Fate works… as JoePa knew, for he was an unlikely student of the Roman poet Virgil and the “Aeneid” he read often in the original Latin. JoePa knew Nemesis, the goddess of retributive justice. And it was Nemesis who came to preside over his final sickening days at Penn State… which he left as pariah, not patriarch. And so a dazzling 46-year career came to an end with breath taking speed, obloquy, disgust, contempt, anger… and sadness.

What had happened, what had gone so terribly wrong? Here are the facts:

On November 5, 2011, former Penn State defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky was arrested on 40 counts relating to sexual abuse of eight young boys over a 15-year period, including alleged incidents that occurred at Penn State. A 2011 grand jury investigation reported that Mike McQueary, a graduate assistant, told Paterno in 2002 that he had seen Sandusky performing a sex act on a 10-year-old boy in Penn State’s shower facilities. According to the report, Paterno notified Athletic Director Tim Curley the next day about the incident.

Here’s where JoePa’s storied career begins to unravel, for it is here that he decided to act for the good of his team, his “program”, not the good of the victims and of the institution which hired him and provided every element for a supremely comfortable life.

Yes, this is the damning fact: Joseph Paterno knew… Joseph Paterno, fearful that his beloved program would be besmirched, decided to wink at the problem, hoping it would go away, rather than take the necessary action… which meant staying with it until it was well and truly solved.

JoePa had the responsibility to act… the need to act… the moral imperative to act… but he did next to nothing, thus showing clearly that here was a man who could prattle of leadership, of responsibility, of honor… but they were nothing but self-serving words… that when these traits were needed, JoePa had none of them.

And neither did anyone else at Penn State, where “honor” was a word in a rousing song… not the foundation for an institution of higher learning, humanity, and right.

The scandal is not that reprehensible acts were committed on the bodies of young boy who, all unknowing, maddened Sandusky and caused him to take terrible risks and do terrible deeds. That is not the scandal… that is a tragedy, frequent enough, a tragedy that everyone at Penn State, or wherever it occurs, can deal with, promptly and relatively easily IF the will and desire to deal with it be present.

The scandal is that Paterno, and the entire establishment at Penn State who knew the facts (and there were many such) chose not to act, thereby degrading themselves and their offices of honor, thereby giving the students, their charges, the worst possible example. And this lead to one of the most alarming incidents in the matter: the riot of Penn State students November 10 when they heard the news that Paterno had been removed by the Trustees of the university, they took to the street, not to remember and support the victims, but to support… JoePa. In short, they came down firmly, resolutely and violently on the wrong side, the side where there was no honor and no humanity. And these some of the brightest students in the land, the most privileged, the most likely to succeed. Their choice, their actions, their lack of vision were telling. How had a great institution fallen so low that its students could be so wrong in their selection?

Winning is not everything, and never was.

The cause of this great problem has been obvious for years to all who had eyes to see. The administrators of great educational institutions, the pride of a great nation, have allowed their progressive, humane principles to be insulted, demeaned, devalued. Once the greatest and most significant parts of these institutions, the liberal arts have been steadily slashed by the people who made JoePa a god, people who made winning, merely a thing, into everything, the thing that humbles all else.

But this is wrong and has always been wrong.

Teaching students to be good citizens is more valuable than winning games, no matter that they are won in profusion and record number.

Teaching students about the values and responsibilities of the well lived life is more important than wearing some token of a victory that they did nothing to help achieve.

Working to transform a distressed planet in a myriad of ways, this is far more important — and necessary — than supporting, in any way, a squad of those manifesting every kind of anti-social behavior.

And no one exceeded Paterno in finding such people and using them for his ends.

And so Paterno allowed Sandusky, despite his detailed knowledge of this man and his mayhem, to keep a college title, an office and easy access to his prey, despite his 1999 dismissal. It was, he thought, good for his “program,” his team, his power and control. So, too, the fact that from 2002-2008 46 of his players were arrested and charged with 163 counts; 27 of t hem were eventually convicted or pleaded guilty to a combined 45 counts.

Through all this the Nittany Lion was diminished, its shibboleths hollow, in the hands of the unworthy, majestic no longer. Now, therefore, must Penn State, bolstered by courageous and energetic leaders seize this opportunity to restructure itself, to become in fact, not merely in name, a great institution of humane values. This is your moment, people of Penn State and all others similarly situated. Seize it. For you who have lost your soul and direction, must take this opportunity to find them. “Fight for her honor, Fight, and Victory again.”

******Your response to this article is requested. What do you think? Let us know by posting your comments below.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Jeffrey Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati. Check out Fast Fan Pages -> http://jozsef.ffpages.hop.clickbank.net

How to Launch Your Niche Profit Blog and Start Building a Following Quickly When you start a niche profit blog, your goal is to make a profit with it, so launching it successfully and building a following quickly is your first order of business.

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When you launch your blog make sure that you’ve got a few weeks’ worth of solid content for your visitors to consume when they arrive. If you use WordPress, it’s easy to upload content and choose which dates it will appear. Develop a Blog Promotion Plan You want to create massive exposure for your blog when you first launch it.

Here are a few ideas for promoting your blog:

Publish a Press Release announcing your new blog launch and submit it to a PR submission service.

Schedule a series of guest blogging gigs on the top blogs in our niche—kind of like a promotional blog tour.

Create a series of videos highlighting your blog, the topics you cover, the products you are offering and even something about you.

Interview the luminaries in your niche and then publish these videos to several video sharing sites (not just youtube.com) with a link back to your site in the description.

Do a massive article marketing campaign by creating 25 or more articles a week and submitting them to the top article marketing directories.

Get booked on popular Internet radio or podcast shows in your niche to talk about your topic. Create a contest using a WordPress plugin that rewards your visitors for sharing about your blog with valuable prizes and prestige.

Monetize your blog Decide on how you will monetize your blog once you have built up a nice flow of traffic. AdSense is a reliable mainstay, but you could also sell advertising space in your side bar or promote complementary affiliate products to your visitors.

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There is a lot more that you need to know about creating niche profit blogs.

Go ahead and check out today to discover how you can start making a profit from niche blogging today. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati. Check out Painless Traffic -> http://jozsef.impainless.hop.clickbank.net

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. To get the most from this article and set just the right mood, go to any search engine and find a copy of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” for the words to this, America’s National Anthem, are at the heart of what tiny Goshen College is doing… prohibiting this stirring song from being played because of what college officials call its martial message.

Goshen, Indiana looks, at first glance, to be a typical Midwestern college town. 116 miles from the breakneck pace of the Windy City and all its distractions. Goshen is, particularly in summer, a sleepy place, a place where the pace ambles, and you can still find students sitting comfortably under a tree engrossed in a book.

But first impressions can be wrong… and if you saw Goshen as somnifacient you’d be wrong… for Goshen is more, far more than what you see. It is a land where the Word of God is vital! Living! Omnipresent and Real!

God is not abstract and distant from the collegiate community at Goshen. He is a kind and gentle God, as close as your beating heart. You do not merely think He cares for you… you know it! You see it! It is present reality.

In Goshen, Indiana as in its Biblical predecessor, no armies or any of the paraphernalia of war are allowed to enter… for this is land blessed by God… a land protected by God… a land apart. Glory Hallelujah for ever and ever.

The troubled spirits at Goshen.

For years now, officials at Goshen College have wrestled with something that profoundly bothered them… how could they, in good conscience, play “The Star-Spangled Banner” at sporting and other events when it celebrates everything they abhor and abominate, the chaos, mayhem and destruction of the “rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air”?

One bright idea after another was tried, to serve God as they were sure He wanted…. while not outraging the profound patriotism not merely of their Indiana neighbors but which they themselves deeply felt.

Some suggested playing a tune like “America the Beautiful” (which many of their fellow countrymen in any case prefer) or “This Land is Our Land.” Others recommended playing the National Anthem along with the anthem of another country, perhaps of an international student.

The discussions were long, learned, abstruse, unsatisfactory. There was no idea, no policy that satisfied all and kept Goshen true to its principles. Because a few could not solve the conundrum, Goshen resolved to consult the many. A survey was sent to 4,000 alumni, faculty, and students… A year was dedicated to finding a solution to a problem that seemed insoluble, how to serve their God and their country, too.

In due course, college officials released their findings… and in minutes the peace of Goshen College and its idyllic community was sundered; officials had decided to ban the National Anthem altogether, thereby returning the college to its strict previous policy…. Obeying God, so they reckoned, was more important than America. It was a decision nicely calculated to produce maximum criticism, outrage, and anger. Peaceful Goshen, where God’s peace abideth, was not peaceful anymore.

Their decision subjected an unhappy Goshen to the scrutiny of America. Officials who saw themselves as stewards of God…. were now pilloried as insular, bigoted, selfish people willing to take the benefits of the Great Republic while insulting the profound symbol of that Republic.

Goshen College, only days before unknown and unacknowledged, was now pummeled and ridiculed, assaulted and demeaned by local townspeople and by the nation. News media helped fan the flames by framing the matter as a debate between those who love country, who honor the military and its sacrifices, and despicable religious zealots and America detractors.

For Goshen these days of June, 2011 were the unhappiest of days. There was no peace in the land where in happier days God Himself found peace.

Waffled.

All of Goshen was on alert now, waiting for the further attacks they knew would come, and bitter, too. And as the attacks mounted the college officials resolved to do what members of the Academy so often do: abjure inconvenient principle, find a comfortable modus vivendi. In short, they waffled.

It was painful watching these officials, all targets now, twisting in the wind. They wanted the ban to continue; they wanted the attacks to stop. They wanted to have their cake and eat it, too. They wanted the impossible…

But in God, all things are possible.

“And Jesus answering said unto them, Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s. And they marvelled at him.” (Mark 12:17)

Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus was constantly questioned by those seeking to discredit him. The occasion on which he uttered the words above were one of the most important. Here some of his many detractors sought to trip him up by asking a vital question about taxes, specifically should they be paid at all. His questioners hoped Jesus would give a simple “yes” or “no” response. Answering “yes” would have left him open to the accusation that he was in opposition to the Jewish resistance to the Roman occupation and therefore against God, too.

Answering “no” would have given those present an opportunity to report him to the Roman authorities as someone who was trying to incite a revolt. Either way, the questioners supposed, Jesus was trapped.

But he wasn’t.

And neither are the people of Goshen College, for Jesus has solved for them, the problem he solved for the Jews the day they asked the question they were sure would trick him, ending his bothersome ministry.

The flag of the United States and its magnificent anthem are of Caesar. Use them, honor them accordingly, for you have the highest authority for doing so and no cause for dismay and confusion. Confounded you may have been… but can be so no longer.

And so America asks you, Goshen,

“O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave, O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?”

Let the flag fly… the great anthem soar… not divisive but uniting and all under God… for in these ways the people see how God loves us and with what munificence He has shed His grace on us all.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also a historian and author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati http://SmartWealthSolutions.com. Check out Passive Niche Profits -> http://jozsef.nichepblog.hop.clickbank.net

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. To get into the mood of this article, I recommend searching any search engine to find one old summer song that retains its toe-tapping zest. It’s Mungo Jerry’s 1970 hit “In The Summertime.” So timeless is this infectious little number that Hershey’s, the chocolatiers, is using it in a current (June, 2011) ad campaign. As Mungo says in the song, “Sing along with us.” My prediction is that you won’t be able to help yourself… it’s ok, when summer comes we’re all young again… and just plain happy to be alive.

Two things that could not be denied inspired this article… first the oppressive record-setting heat wave here in New England, a phenomenon which turned all of us in the city from folks assiduously avoiding each other into sweltering fellow travelers, anxious to hear the latest news about possible relief… and having no hesitation or shyness about reaching out for news and the agreeable opportunity to be resoundingly banal, “Hot enough for you?”

The second thing that caught my attention was the trill of bells which sounded at first hearing just the way the bells sounded from the Good Humor truck as it traversed the neighborhood, proving beyond a doubt that all us Illinois kids had absolutely no hearing problems; we could hear those bells across Guinness-Book-Of-Records distances… and nothing, but nothing, was going to get in the way of that truck and all of us making an absolutely certain rendezvous. It was clearly written in the Book of Kid Rights and Privileges, that it was our irrevocable and bounden duty to hear its bells, stop the wagon, and look long and hard for what a dime could get you. Personally, I was always seduced by the orange creamsicles. I haven’t seen, much less enjoyed one for decades… but as I write, I am falling helplessly into the insistent consumer mode which marked all my encounters with the mobile ice-cream emporium. The truck arrived; my money departed.

You need to be very clear about our relationship to Good Humor and its cascade of ice-cream novelties. Kids we ceased to be when we saw the truck and reviewed our resources. We were practised buyers, omniscient as to what was on that truck and what we fancied and would have, negotiators with proven skills, discerning, our “due diligence” certain, exhaustive, no doubt frustrating to the college kid home for the summer who wore the company’s uniform and drove the company’s vehicle… Long-suffering, so young himself and barely out of the juvenile consumer throng before him, he saw his profits melting as his pint-sized customers looked, looked again, made a decision, changed their mind, then looked some more…

It was a ritual, and no matter how many times you stopped the wagon, you performed it, loyally and with care. It was, after all, part of the experience… and, besides, you knew, none better, that the customer (even the most dilatory) was always right. It was something your father told you that you never forgot.

Some facts about Good Humor.

As a card-carrying kid and loyal Good Humor customer I knew absolutely nothing about the company whose success hinged on the wishes and buying power of kids like me. The only thing I cared about was whether they had orange creamsicles (they always did)… and what new novelties they had, putting them prominently at the front, the better to seduce me from my unending favorite; I have to admit I was always willing to try the new offerings, particularly if they came with the lure of that magic word: “deal” and a handful of discount coupons, which soon expired but could be seen months later under refrigerator magnets.

So ignorant then about my favorite company, I felt obliged for this article to rectify the matter… and so I have. Originally, Good Humors were a product, chocolate coated ice cream bars on a stick; I loved these too and regarded it as my particular job to ensure Grammie always had a good supply; since she loved them, too, my job was never onerous. Grammie and Grampa had great power and influence on Good Humor drivers. One never-to-be-forgotten day, Grampa who (I now know) had a talent for the right gesture at the right time, peremptorily stopped the wagon when the supply of ice-cream had run low at a birthday party Grammie was hosting for one of my young cousins. With a practised gesture I can see to this day, he ordered the wagon to stop… and invited all the guests young and old to take their pick of the inventory. When the impressed and jubilant driver had done his work, Grampa tipped him liberally, it may even have been $20, a fortune. Grampa was a dark horse in such gestures; he didn’t make them often (for he was a good penny-pinching, investing Hanoverian) but when he did… people noticed, winked, and said “Good Old Walt,” with just the right amount of admiration. They knew, and in due course all the grandchildren knew, that under his gruffness, an art form, there was a man who knew just when to be lavish with ice-cream… or whatever was called for.

Good Humor, having found success with Good Humor bars, did what all successful businesses do: it added new products, always using America’s kiddoes as ground zero for testing and launching new products. Good Humor started in Youngstown, Ohio in the ‘twenties; by the mid-’thirties it covered most of the nation. Catering to the national sweet tooth and a love-affair with ice-cream that still seems inexhaustible, Good Humor flourished, until at its peak in the 1950s, the company operated 2,000 “sales cars”.

But the tribal ways of Good Humor, which I knew to my fingertips, were under threat; baby boomers like me grew up and put aside Good Humor along with the baseball glove and “Mad” magazine.. There were labor issues, costs increased, gasoline and insurance soared. And profits declined.

In 1961, Good Humor was acquired by Thomas J. Lipton, the US subsidiary of the international Unilever conglomerate. Sad but true, in 1978 the company sold its fleet, and an era truly came to an end. Distribution was then handled by grocery stores and independent street vendors. By 1984, Good Humor was profitable again… and (from 1989) growing. Gold Bond Ice Cream, that included the Popsicle brand, was acquired… and in due course Isaly Klondike and the Brewers Ice Cream Company. Nine plants nationwide work hard keeping up with the demand. (I confess I love Brewers chocolate ice-cream whose taste rivals more expensive brands.) I am glad that they prosper, for having lost creamsicles, I can ill afford to lose any more flavors… or a single memory.

Having completed this article, I shall allow myself the luxury (though it is very early on a Sunday) to reward myself with an ice-cream flavor I did not previously know, peach cobbler. It’s by Ben & Jerry,whose flavors I cherish, though their politics are intrusive and unappealing.

I am glad the store is handy… I am glad I won’t have to wait for the ice-cream truck to come, always late, increasing my impatience.

And I am glad I have shared this story with you. For while there have been many vicissitudes at Good Humor… the only thing that really matters, the ice-cream itself, abides, perfect for a hot summer’s day like the one just dawning. And that is good to know and to share with a friend.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati http://SmartWealthSolutions.com. Check out Passive Niche Profits -> http://jozsef.nichepblog.hop.clickbank.net

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

The National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) is the largest nationally representative and continuing assessment of what America’s students know and can do in various subject areas. Assessments are conducted periodically in mathematics, reading, science, writing, the arts, civics, economics, geography, and U.S. history.

Since NAEP assessments are administered uniformly using the same sets of test booklets across the nation, NAEP results serve as a common metric for all states and selected urban districts. The assessment stays essentially the same from year to year, with only carefully documented changes. This permits NAEP to provide a clear picture of student academic progress over time. May 4, 2011 it dropped its latest bombshell. America’s present and future citizens know less and less about the democracy they will inherit.

As retired U.S. Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor said in a statement, “Knowledge of our system of government is not handed down through the gene pool. The habits of citizenship must be learned…. But we have neglected civic education for the past several decades, and the results are predictably dismal.”

Some of the shocking results.

Item: Many high school students (being at least 18 years of age) may be old enough to vote, but just one quarter of them demonstrate at least a “proficient” level of civics knowledge and skills. As if this figure weren’t bad enough on its own, this 24 percent figure actually represents a slight dip from the proportion of 12th graders scoring proficient or “advanced” in the subject four years ago.

76% of these high school students could not name a single power granted to Congress by the Constitution. Neither could they identify a single effect of foreign policy on other nations.

Item: Just 22 percent of U.S. eighth grade students had any idea of the purpose of the Bill of Rights and were unable to identify even a single one of these rights. This result is now chronic. This result has not changed at all since first measured in 1998.

Only 1 in 10 of these eighth graders demonstrated acceptable knowledge of the checks and balances between the legislative, executive, and judicial branches,the bedrock of our entire way of governance.

A tiny ray of light.

Amongst all the dismaying news in this study, there are, it is true, two aspects which show improvement. Since we must take our good news as we find it, even if meager, here it is:

Item: The average 4th grade score rose compared with both 2006 and 1998, the first time “the nation’s report card” was given. Twenty seven percent were proficient or better in 2010, compared with 24 percent in 2006.

Item: Hispanic students, a growing proportion of the country’s population and student body, narrowed the gap between their scores and those of non-Hispanic white students. On average, Hispanic eighth-graders scored 137 and non-Hispanic whites 160. This 23-point gap was down 29 in 2006.

We stopped teaching civics, and such egregious results are inevitable.

Justice O’Connor’s comments upon the release of the newest NAEP survey are apt. If you fail to teach what used to be called “civics” in my day… you get students (and future citizens) with inadequate information on what our government is and how it works. (Justice O’Connor last year founded a non-profit organization icivics.org. It teaches civics through Web-based games.) Ignorance is endemic, systematic, embedded and completely predictable.

It’s time to attack this pervasive problem root and branch. What we must do:

1) Recognize the problem. We cannot solve a problem unless we recognize that there is a problem. Here there is more than a problem; there is incipient catastrophe. The President himself must recognize the grave seriousness of the matter and direct the nation’s attention to it, basing his remarks on the solid foundation of these important data from NAEC, which was created by Congress in 1988 and not a minute too soon.

2) You cannot have students proficient in civics where their teachers are not proficient. The lack of civics awareness can be traced to several causes, one crucial aspect of which is the abysmal level of teacher training in civics. Teacher proficiency and student proficiency must take place together, for to blame students for the inadequacies of their teachers is unjust and unproductive.

This leads ineluctably to what teachers are taught in their training programs and what they must teach in the classrooms of our civics challenged students. We must agree that there are certain civics topics which both students and teachers must know, so to be introduced into the curricula of each. And then, though the teachers unions will scream bloody murder, these teachers, no matter what level of seniority, must be tested (as their students are) in the subject matter they are expected to know.

3) We must reward students (and even teachers too) who demonstrate superior civics knowledge. When my mother was in high school in the 1940s, she received two medals for civics education; I have them still. I received honors, too, in the same subject. We can help students excel in civics by giving them tangible reasons to excel. There was nothing to be gained by destroying a culture which recognized and rewarded merit. We are suffering the consequences now and will continue to suffer them, and even worse, if this critical problem of our endangered democracy is not dealt with now… and with the total focus and seriousness it requires.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati http://SmartWealthSolutions.com. Check out Easy Quick Profits -> http://jozsef.eqprofits.hop.clickbank.net

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

I had quite a different thought in mind for my article today… but at about 4 a.m. a light breeze caressed me and I was overwhelmed by an astonishing chorus of birdsong, as one determined winged group answered another, each and every one of them demanding con brio that I wake up and celebrate this day… and make sure you celebrate it, too, for the true end of winter (not just some date on the calendar) is a most important thing.

So, I threw up the sash on the window and quaffed the air. There wasn’t a touch of winter in it, not a scintilla, not a particle. It was well and truly May… and, in an instant, I was back over 50 years ago where, in the breeze way, my mother was engaged in directing her young charges in the finer points of May baskets. But first…

On December 3, 1960 Lerner and Loewe’s “Camelot” opened in New York with Julie Andrews and Richard Burton as Guinevere and King Arthur. Andrews belted out a pip of a song on May… and it’s utterly appropriate you let it enliven your day today. Go now to any search engine and find it, and let it be 1960 for you all over again…

“It’s May! It’s May! The lusty month of May! That lovely month when ev’ryone goes Blissfully astray.”

The truth is, my days of going “blissfully astray” have long passed. This is not a good thing… we all need a day now and then when “wicked thoughts Merrily appear.”

May 1 is tailor-made to be that day: “That gorgeous holiday When ev’ry maiden prays that her lad Will be a cad!”

For many years politics, particularly Red politics as directed by dour Russian communists whose dissipations were leaden and plodding, obscured the real purpose of May 1 and, indeed, the entire month of May. Lenin and company decreed that May’s license for merriment be replaced by International Workers’ Day (also known as International Labour Day).

Per usual, this determination came in a ukase from the sweat-drenched apparatchiki of Moscow… personally, I have always maintained that if the workers had been asked for their opinion on the matter they would have chosen…

“”It’s May, it’s May, the month of ‘Yes, you may’ The time for every frivolous whim, proper or im-”

But that was the thing about those revolutionary Russkies: they were always telling you something, demanding something, insisting on something… the very things we throw off on May 1st… the better to let our genetic code do its thing and direct us in uninhibited may-hem.

In short,the vital sap of May has proven its prodigious strength… there will not be in Moscow today — or perhaps anywhere — a tedious parade featuring tractors and heroes of the falsely named republics. These parades and the grim visaged crew who invented and directed them have been toppled… and we all have regained the undisputed right to a day “depraved in every way”… and a good thing, too. It’s what the workers would have chosen for themselves… if anyone had bothered to ask them. Which brings us back to the true meaning of May Day and the May days which follow….

Sacred to the feast of Beltane, Celtic start of summer.

May Day calls for a sloughing off of sober responsibilities and of the proper, serious, VIP you have become. For this day, this single day, you dance, not march, to a different drummer, this time played by the (rather sheepish) pagans who celebrate the festival of Beltane. Sadly these latter-day neo-pagans are in desperate need of experienced help. I have rarely seen a more tatterdemalion crew or folks more in need of assistance in the art of dissipation. Their current antics are not inspiring and irritate, I aver, the high panoply of Celtic deities who wince every time a foul-smelling, foul-attired Beltaniain happens by. In short, the neo-pagans are an embarrassment in need of a make-over, the better to serve the cause of excess and pleasure.

No doubt they are adversely afflicted by the shear lack of accurate information about how the good pagans of yore did dissipate. What’s known about Beltane, for instance, is quite frankly not very attractive. For instance, a highlight of the event was the ever-festive bonfire created by rubbing sticks together. Related rituals included driving cattle between two fires, dancing around the fires, and burning witches in effigy, no doubt an acquired taste.

Another tradition was Beltane cakes, which would be broken into several pieces, one of which was blackened. These pieces would then be drawn by celebrants at random, the person getting the unlucky piece would face a mock execution. Perhaps it was more alluring and pleasurable if you were actually there…

Walpurgisnacht.

St. Walburga (or Walpurgis), the abbess of the monastery of Heidenheim, helped St. Boniface bring Christianity to 8th century Germany. The date of May 1 became, over time, sacred to this well-loved Christian lady, the better to obliterate a pre-existing pagan festival, again including rites to protect oneself from witchcraft. This lead, in the muddled way with such matters, to a hybrid festival in which witches were said to meet with the Devil on the eve of May 1. The night of April 30th became known as “Walpurgisnacht”… and the day following was, perhaps, given over to gratitude for having survived it.

Things were better in England…

In medieval England, folks would celebrate the start of spring by going out to the country or woods “going a-maying” by gathering greenery and flowers, the first description of this occurring in “The Court of Love” (1561). Thereafter the maypole went up… the music began… morris dancers at the ready… and a May Queen to crown with persiflage, good humor, debauchery and the certainty of a headache tomorrow. Yes, as always, the Brits know how to party…

From this tradition came my mother’s May Day version. Like everywhere else in the great heartland, May 1st in Illinois meant the harsh winter was gone, gone forever. Everyone and everything breathed easier as a result; there was the promise of clemency and of sultry slower moving days. The advent to these days lay through the rich flora of midwestern America. Our home, beside a rambling creek, was incomparably beautiful at springtime, carpeted as it was with violets on every side. In the late light of day, you could believe it was God’s own greenhouse.

From this incomparable soil came its harvest of beauty… tulips, lilacs, the last remaining daffodils and always the violets in unimaginable beauty and abundance…

From these my mother chose the best and directed us in how to make the May baskets… and make them just so, festooned as always by a ribbon of the brightest hue. Then, without a card, she dispatched us on the task of delivery; to be put in front of entry doors, the doorbell rung, then running fast away, never to be seen.

I asked her once why we didn’t add a card, like florists do. She only smiled. I know why now… we who delivered, laughing so, were the card… and our message was unmistakable, an image of youth and laughter, running through a panorama of flowers whose very fragrance I can smell to this pristine May day.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati http://SmartWealthSolutions.com. Check out Job Crusher 2 -> http://www.SmartWealthSolutions.com/?rd=qe1rbbMV

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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s Note. To get into the right and proper mood for this article, search any search engine for Sir William Walton’s resounding “Crown Imperial.” This was the music Their Royal Highnesses heard as they walked the Westminster Abbey red carpet to their future subjects, the cynosure of every eye. Walton was the perfect choice… you’ll see.

The State Landau, smart and polished had just driven up to the gate where the newly minted, newly married Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were waiting. The woman who started the day as Kate Middleton, turned to her new husband and said the magic words, so telling because we all felt the sentiment before she even uttered it. “I am so happy,” she whispered to her prince, truly charming and a bit abashed by his position this day and perhaps thinking, “Waiting was worth it. I am truly marrying the woman I adore… and everyone is so glad about it. And I do believe she loves me for myself.”

The pageantry and ceremony in general.

In the 19th century, the British and their monarchy were a byword for sloppy, disorganized, and often dangerous royal ceremonies. The person who was most instrumental in changing matters was Queen Victoria’s “beautiful” (her word) hunk the German princeling Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. From his time at Court in the mid-1800s things got better, slowly but surely, as I detail in my book “Insubstantial Pageant: Ceremony and Confusion at Queen Victoria’s Court (1979). By the early 20th century the overall reality of ceremonial muddle had been replaced by a professional approach to showcasing the monarch to his people. The British are now justly renowned worldwide for the flawless pageants that punctuate each sovereign’s reign and present him to his subjects and the world just the way he wishes.

The now traditional and punctilious pageantry we expect was very much on display on Friday, April 29, 2011. It was a joy to watch the aspects emerge… particularly given the fact that this event operated under peculiar circumstances… the inevitable, could-never-be-avoided comparisons to the pageantry and circumstances of the marriage 30 years before between Prince Charles, Prince of Wales and Lady Diana Spencer. The marriage and ceremonial arrangements of Diana, Princess of Wales’ elder son and his beautiful Kate had to be considered carefully so that all of the inevitable comparisons tilted in favor of the soon-to-be Cambridges… as they most surely did.

Princess Diana’s marriage to the heir to “this throne of kings, this England”, Prince Charles was an affair of the highest state; after all the groom was the heir to the imperium. In retrospect, what seemed so beguiling at the time appears as more an event than a marriage. Splendor (and perfect coordination) was there… love and affection were not. It was an omen for the tragedy which followed, besmirching the reputation of Prince Charles and ending in Princess Diana’s sad demise.

Both of Princess Diana’s sons, groom Prince William and justly concerned younger son Prince Harry were clear on what they wanted… a real marriage, a real wedding, true and heartfelt feelings all round.

There is no question but that they got what they wanted… which was a decided relief to the British nation and its Commonwealth… and its Queen, Elizabeth II, who arrived back at Buckingham Palace after the marriage ceremony and proclaimed the day’s events “amazing.” And so they were…

The Married Couple.

After the cynical, loveless marriage of the groom’s mother Princess Diana, the nation and body language experts were on the qui vive for “the truth” about this couple, their wedding, and whether it confirmed (or challenged) the good feelings they had about Wills and Kate, and their pivotal role in establishing just the right reality (not merely image) that will allow the monarchy to flourish after the many crises of the current Royal Family, particularly the much married, much divorced children of Queen Elizabeth, a tawdry, shopworn crew.

April 29th delivered what everyone wanted: a grounded, affectionate, sincerely attached couple, people who are what they seemed to be, not a scandal waiting to happen.

Kate’s gown was the first clue. Lady Diana’s overdone gown made her look like a confectioner’s bride. Who’s idea was the taffeta anyway? But Kate, chic Kate, delivered exactly what one would have wanted for one’s own family wedding: a form-fitting dress that breathed classic good taste, undeniable (though understated) elegance. It is the dress of a lady of taste, breeding, good judgement, and, so very visible, care, every one a desirable trait for her future job as one-who-may-be Queen Consort.

The little clues so beloved of commentators and would-be cognoscenti began to stack up:

* The interaction between Princes William and Harry indicated just how close they are; they needed to be given the scandal and tragedy of their parents’ relations. Harry, for all that he’s a known wise-acre, will be lonely now; Wills has other things to do which, even with the best will on earth, will limit time with Harry.

* The way he looked at his bride for the first time in her riveting marriage attire… and said, quite simply, “You look so beautiful.” And so she did… and what every bride longs to hear, the compliment based on affection, awe, and a dawning awareness that he is really getting married, and to the person he has always wanted.

* The body language. As all the world knows, these two people took some eight years to get acquainted, know each other, argue and make up with each other, and love each other. The time they wisely took enabled them to become and be a couple, then yesterday, a married couple. They move together well; I was interested to see how they left the Abbey, hand in hand, the new Duke of Cambridge putting down the heel of one shoe on the toe of the other, so as not to hurry his duchess in her gown and (not too long) train.

Mad for Kate.

I have long been a Kate Middleton admirer; I thought she had just the right traits of heart and mind to be a truly helpful, loving partner to her prince, the better enabling him to do the important work he must do to transform and improve the monarchy in a world of relentless change. After yesterday, my already substantial admiration has substantially increased. She played her part faultlessly and, more than that, with her new husband’s complete concurrence they turned their marriage from an event of monarchy and nation into a true wedding, dedicated to each other and their friends and family, including their great nation.

Everything was done well, thus delivering just what everyone wanted: two deeply devoted people with a great task, historic task before them, ready now together ready to do the best we well know them capable of.

And so the newest Royal Duke is now His Royal Highness of Cambridge, the old shire, not the University and Kate gets what the Duchess of Windsor could only long for, the coveted letters HRH. True, of the many new Royal Dukes of Cambridge since the 17th century, not one has been notable for anything other than his capacity for strong drink and wrong women and oodles of FitzCambridge children, royal byblows. Queen Victoria always had trouble with the Cambridges of her day, but from these self-same Cambridges came a pillar of the dynasty. That pillar was Queen Mary, Elizabeth II’s dutiful, God fearing, monarchy reverencing grandmother… may our new duchess find such traits in herself. God Save the Queen (to be) and may she remain happy and glorious!

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also a recognized royal expert and historian having penned 18 best-selling business books. Watch for his online televised interviews about the Royal Wedding of William and Kate. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati http://SmartWealthSolutions.com. Check out Job Crusher 2 -> http://www.SmartWealthSolutions.com/?rd=qe1rbbMV

Something wonderful, unprecedented, and magnificent is happening as I write (April 23, 2011) off the holiday beaches of Provincetown and Truro, Massachusetts. It’s a convention… no, not a political convention (though this story has a political aspect). And it’s not strictly business either, though business will most surely be generated.

No, it’s a story about our favorite mammal… the whale, specifically the North Atlantic right whales, who have gathered in unheard of numbers to gorge themselves on an abundance of the zooplankton they love. It seems this year has produced a bumper crop. And so 200 of these creatures we all champion have come to Massachusetts; just a little less than half their total number. So numerous are they, so close to shore, pilgrims going to see them (and this week-end will be packed with same) will not even have to leave the land. Again, a first.

Dr. Charles “Stormy” Mayo, senior scientist at the Center for Coastal Studies in Provincetown, has been paying close attention to this phenomenon. First, he noted the zooplankton has been ample. Second there are the necessary currents which bring the zooplankton to the area; then the local currents which cause them to concentrate in amounts sufficient for hefty whale appetites. Given the fact that right whales can weigh up to 90 tons, you may imagine such appetites are gigantic. It is anticipated the whales will stay and feed for about a week; then go on their peripatetic way, the glories of the wide Atlantic… the more so since they remain on the knife edge of extinction.

The name.

As with so much of maritime history, we first need to be aware that many whale tales are fishy. So it is with right whales. Lore has it that they are called that because whalers thought these the “right” ones to hunt; that’s because most of them float after slaughter. They are also pretty easy to access given that they often swim (as they are swimming in Provincetown today) close to shore. In short, easy pickings… and hunted nearly to extinction during the active years of the whaling industry, described in detail in “Moby Dick” by Herman Melviille (published 1851). It goes without saying that Moby Dick is the most famous right whale in history; perhaps even the most famous whale of all. Local folks will surely tell you so. Then they’ll sell you some trinket or other.

Taxonomy

Right whales are three species of large baleen whales consisting of two genera in the family Balaenidae of order Cetacea. They occupy the genus Eubalaena.

Authorities have repeatedly recategorized the three populations of Eubalaena right whales,in one, two, or three species. In the whaling era there was thought to be a single species. Later, morphological factors such as differences in the skull shape of northern and southern animals indicated that there were at least two species — one in the northern hemisphere, the other in the Southern Ocean.

Right whales do not cross equatorial waters to make contact with other (sub) species and (inter) breed. Thick layers of insulating blubber make it impossible for them to dissipate their internal body heat in tropical waters.

Their look.

Unlike other whales, right whales have distinctive callosities (roughened patches of skin) on their heads, along with a broad back without a dorsal fin, occasionally with white belly patches and a long arching mouth that begins above the eye. The callosities appear white due to large colonies of cyamids (whale lice). They can grow up to 18 m (59 feet); significantly larger than humpbacks or grays, but smaller than blues.

Its predators: orcas and us.

Orcas are bad enough, but over time right whales have developed a community approach to defending themselves. It is quite different with humans who are, by far, the greater enemy. We wanted them, first and foremost, for their oil, but later as preservation technology improved, we slaughtered them for their meat.

While many different peoples hunted right whales (not least because they swim slowly and can the more easily be caught), it was the people of Massachusetts and New York who hunted them most efficiently, to the deadly diminution of the whales. Just what they did and how they did it can be found in no better place than “Moby Dick”, as generations of students have (sadly) discovered. It is the story of hard-living, young dying men who had employment in the most demanding of industries. Sent to sea at 15 or less, they quickly grew inured to its hardships… or else suffered the consequences. Such men cared nothing for the majesty of the right whale, or any whale. They saw Yankee greenbacks, pure and simple.

With typical American hard work, imagination and ingenuity, the whale industry went global with a vengeance, establishing whale stations wherever needed, the better to ensure supplies and cater to the burgeoning international markets which clambered for bits and pieces of whales, caring nothing about the mammals themselves.

In due course Yankee efficiency ran the right whales right up to the verge of extinction. The world saw and took notice, but nearly too late as the world has seen with so many other animals found now in scientific collections as specimens only. They banned right whaling in 1937. Japan and Russia (mostly as the Soviet Union) scoffed at the prohibition and advanced the date of extinction. Somebody somewhere always has a good reason for believing their needs transcend the necessity for protection and preservation. All extinct species have learned too late that the human species is adept at special pleading and privilege, to the detriment of all.

Now they gather again.

In 1910, the great monarchies of the world gathered for the coronation of British King George V. Just 4 years later, these self same monarchies took sides in the great war known as World War I. Their 1910 gathering in London was seen as the swan song of the old regime, its last great convocation. Extinction for them followed rapidly.

Is this the fate of the right whale, now gathering in the largest number ever seen together, a group of about 200 in a total population between 400-500? We must not merely hope alone. We must continue to badger our representatives with our unfailing concern and high anxiety about the fate of creatures who never hurt us but whom we have devastated and tormented with near total impunity. This is not acceptable.

Reason for hope.

Fortunately whales, especially right whales, have good reason to hope for the best. Unlike too many extinct animals, whales have captured public imagination and thus a large constituency of good people willing and able to lobby for whales. An important part of this constituency consists of school children. Some of their poems and essays in support of whales appear on their “Save the Whales” website.

Here’s one of the many poems I liked, this one by Victor Tucker, age 8, in 2007, then a third grader from Kansas:

Whales are chubby. Whales are fat. Whales are bigger than a cat.

Whales have two eyes, two ears, and a nose. Whales have everything but toes.

Whales are big. Whales are stout. Whales, they hum, they don’t shout.

Whales have a blowhole on top of their head Whales don’t have to make their bed.

People want to kill the whales. We have to even save their tails.

*

Does anyone else see a budding Ogden Nash (d. 1971) here? May saving whales help give us more whales and more poets, too.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. , providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses.
Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author’s permission by Joseph Szanati http://SmartWealthSolutions.com. Check out Commission Maniac -> http://jozsef.xclone.hop.clickbank.net