But wait! The staff is in on it, too; a group of inbred, in-fighting slackers, protecting their turf from parents, administrators and opposing ideologies. Well, Mr. Jackson, from what I've observed of Jeffco alternative education for the last twelve years, here's the more accurate picture:
1. I've never seen a more dedicated staff of professional educators at any level, including the collegiate. Rather than celebrating their freedom from "the restraints and never-ending paperwork," it is the norm at JCOS, given the needs and talents of the students, to spend an enormous amount of non-class time working with individuals, parents and a variety of projects and activities.
2. "Parents not consulted"? The "all of a sudden" merger of classes you refer to was anything but. I received notification in the mail, well in advance of the merger. The notice went into great detail about the background of the situation, as well as the rationale for the "proposed" solution.
3. I've been to Karla Myles's house several times. Her son and my son are friends. Far from being the "man-hating lesbian" you allude to, I have always found her to be very personable and friendly. Moreover, as she is the mother of a male child, your characterization seems unlikely.
4. Although you "liberally" sprinkle your report with the "l" word, there is a good reason why well-rounded education is referred to as "liberal arts." It's the philosophy that if education isn't progressive, it's not education. It's dogma, or politics, or the expediencies of a large bureaucracy, but it's not education. The parents, students and staff of JCOS chose this place, not necessarily because of their own political leanings, but because of the school's progressive, creative leanings. If the staff appears to not want to leave, it is probably because it most closely fulfills their "dream of how they would like to" educate.
Harv Teitelbaum
Evergreen
Polar Opposites
Regarding Robin Chotzinoff's "We're Loaded for Bear," in the September 13 issue:
A couple of weeks ago, on a Sunday afternoon, I went with another member of the Save Our Bears group to Children's Hospital. We went around to several wards in our polar bear suits. As we entered each room, there was instant recognition: "Klondike and Snow are here!" and young faces broke into smiles, forgetting for a few minutes about their pain.
What is the purpose of a zoo? Is it to exhibit "wild" animals in their "natural" habitat to appeal to our intellectual curiosity, thereby imparting respect for other species? Is it to take paying customers on a "virtual" tour of a faraway place, where they see "exotic" animals as part of the trip? Is it to breed captive animals whose wild cousins are disappearing in the face of the ever-expanding domain of Homo sapiens?
We won't argue these aims here. But a zoo can, and rarely does, manifest a higher purpose. It can show us that other species are God's children, too. This, I think, is at the root of the Klondike and Snow phenomenon. These bears, with all their charisma, knock down our hubris just a little. Their celebrity and popularity are a rare gift. The common folk realize this in their hearts and know what a precious thing is thrown away the day the bears are shipped off. On that day, an empty humanism reigns: Animals are mere chattel, not worthy of an emotional bond; such a thing is reserved only for humans to give and to receive. We have been called selfish. We're not the selfish ones.
Nancy and James Harris
Denver
