Non-Traditional (Part 2)

The further adventures of Nick, as he returns to school for the first time in twenty years...

In the first part -- recounted here -- I made my way to the hallowed campus of Southwestern College to attempt a second go at furthering my education.

Day 1 went well.  Which was the one thing I had assumed would go well this semester.  I had a few shocks, particularly when seeing how late students would mope into class, and just how apathetic the atmosphere was here and there.

More shocks on Tuesday?  You betcher butt.  But we'll get to that in a moment...

Crushing Tiny Cities, The Four Things All Students Need, and What Happens When James Bond Mistakes You For Someone Else

Last Thursday I went to the Student Center to get my photo ID, to make it easier to use the facilities.  To do so, the man with the camera had me step behind a blue line, then tilted it up about forty degrees to get my head in the shot.  The camera was mounted on a shelf about two-and-a-half feet high, meaning that my ID photo is shot up and at an angle that makes me look like that big fellow atop of the beanstalk. 

Before I left the building, crushing tiny cities as I went, the cameraman asked, "Hey!  Are you still with the newspaper?"  This was a bit distracting, since I'd only been with the paper about two hours at the time. 



You have no rightsh on thish campush.



I then recognized him - James Bond.  And no, I'm not kidding.  Mr. Bond is the very gent who tried throwing me off campus a little more than a year ago for trying to register voters.  It didn't go well for him.  He got schooled in First Amendment rights by a lawyer/professor and I had to agree to sign in if I showed up on campus again to do radical terroristy things like utilizing the Democratic process.

I signed in that day, and never again.  And that little action was mentioned in the nationally-infamous Muzzle Award given by the Thomas Jefferson Center for the Protection of Free Expression to SWC for their (former administration's) inability to understand those most basic American rights.  I call that a win.

But apparently Commander Bond had assumed I was already with those rabblerousers at the Sun, so I answered, "Nope.  I was a civilian when you tried to throw me off campus."

The last bit of weirdness I got was when I took a little coupon book with discounts for those important student needs.  A couple bucks off for books, a buck off at the cafeteria, a couple of dollar-off coupons at Jason's coffee cart, and...

Discount hepatitis shots.  Yep, a little something for that student that does have everything.

True Believers, You Mean... I Actually Gotta Buy Stuff?, That Sneaky Homework, and You'll Get Your Money When We're Damned Good And Ready To Give It To You.

I picked up my books over the weekend, and armed with those books and my coupons - in case the urge for a hot coffee or an ice-cold Heptivax struck - I returned to class on Tuesday morning, Business 120.



You're serious about the textbook?

 I also brought my completed homework - the only homework yet assigned.  So what percentage of the class had finished theirs?  Maybe 25%.  And how many of the forty or so students had bought their textbook - the one necessary for the 60-page reading assignment it took me about six hours to complete?  About four.

Forgive me if I seem to be harping on this, but I simply can't understand this.  So far, we've been told to do only three things: get the textbook, read two chapters, and do a short non-graded quiz.  The answers of most of the students appear to be "no, no, and... no."

Sometime later, I found out that one of the reasons that so many of the students didn't have the books, is that at SWC, the school doesn't start giving out financial aid - including that needed to buy books - until the second week.  Apparently this makes sense to someone.  But not to me, and likely not to the students who are now at least one day behind in every class, and will likely be closer to a week behind.

If only we had some new people in power who could look into this vast abyss of stupidity!

In Journalism 200, Professor Max Branscomb spent the day lecturing on the journalists' Code of Ethics.  It's clearly a passion of his, and it came through.  It's always a pleasure to watch someone who believes in what he or she is lecturing.  Max's passion is good, high-quality journalism, and that comes shining through.

Mike Van Keith is a true believer of the power of business, and he demonstrates that with every word, peppering his lectures with anecdotes and asides that shows how well he understands how it all works.  Both instructors are easy to listen to and easy to understand, but use completely different styles of lectures.

More on that later.  I've got to keep this short.  I've got a couple of chapters to read, and a bit of homework to do.

Thank God I went ahead and bought those books.

Imperial Beach and the Colors of Ugly

 

Imperial Beach's wild, savage parrots.



I like Imperial Beach. I like living here. I like the surfers who walk through town barefoot, board under their arms, in their wetsuits. I like the dog walkers, the wild parrots, the skateboarding parents, the hipster grandparents, the aging hippies, the active military, the beach, the surf, the estuary, and that view that gives you the USA, Mexico, and the broad sweep of the Pacific Ocean, all without having to turn your head.

There are also a few things I don’t like. One of those is the occasional green flash of racism that appears on the horizon.

THE GREEN FLASH

I saw a particularly colorful, stupid version a week or so ago, while at the laundry – to be specific, I was at the Palm Coin Laundry. I watched the laundry owners walk up, past the 7-11 next door and pass several of us: a pair of young women, a young mixed-race couple and their kids, and me; and walked straight on to the middle-aged Hispanic man sitting in the bed of his truck, watching his clothes through the laundry’s glass front.

“If you’re going to work here,” the owner said, “could you move your truck?”

When the gentleman said that he was washing his clothes and waiting for them, the owner – a just-past-middle-aged Caucasian pretty boy – responded that he looked like he was working. The Hispanic chap said again that he was washing clothes.

“I thought you were working,” the owner said. “Guys who work over here…” he pointed at something that I didn’t see, “sometimes take up our spots.”

The young women, the couple, the Hispanic gent, and I all had parked our vehicles there – and all of us were clearly not working. His truck wasn’t marked for work, there were no tools visible, and he was sitting on the tailgate, watching the inside of the laundry. I want to be specific: he clearly wasn’t working.

At this point, Mr. Palm Coin Laundry had made a couple of dumb moves: he had assumed that the one probably-Mexican guy he could see was working, and when he was corrected, he failed to back off and apologize (or at least not pursue it further). It gets better.

The owner then sauntered away inside and the guy in the truck followed him. He was offended, and rightly so. He quietly said something to the owner; I wish I had heard it, but I didn’t. But the reaction was the same:

“I thought you were working.” Still standing fast, the owner refused to admit he may have made an error. So when the man from the truck asked him to unlock the washers so he could get his clothes out, the owner stomped off, came back, and unlocked all the washers.

It’s my belief that the right thing to do would have been to…

A) Apologize for making a dumb-ass assumption.

B) Assure him it won’t happen again.

C) And thank him for being a customer.

But, no. He did none of these things, instead defending his position. Is this racism, or is this just brain-dead business sense? You may have a different opinion, but I was there, and I watched this Imperial Beach business owner stride past seven other people to focus on the one man of color and ask him to move just that one vehicle.

If that were you, how would you feel?

RUST AND CHROME

I like art. I like sculpture. I like the mixed-media sculpture, and classical sculpture, and even abstract sculpture – that trope, “modern” art.

What I don’t like is this:

At first thinking it was a giant Elvish rune from Lord of the Rings, probably warning of “dangerous magic here,” or some similar twaddle, I discovered that this was, in fact, supposed to be a piece of art to be proud of.

I don’t quite understand that.

This abstract chrome beast, which looks like it’s mounted on a basketball goalpost and planted in a small dumpster, has put a nasty chrome dent in the view off the end of Dahlia. Entitled “Sun and Surf,” this ugly thing appeared while we were in New Mexico over Christmas. In which case, I can only assume that Santa Claus has decided that Imperial Beach was very, very bad last year.

I understand that the curve at the bottom is surf, and the bird-shaped figure at the top is a wave, but what exactly is the round thing on legs in the middle?

The sun on crutches? A rotund Samoan on a boogie board? A Martian death machine rising from the waves?

I like that last one particularly.

One last thing: this brilliant idealization of a can-opener seems to be constructed of chrome. You know what chrome does in salt air? It rusts.

There is already a patina of rust on the seaward side. How long will it take this hideous thing to complete its metamorphosis into a rust-colored Martian death machine and slay us all?

Maybe if Imperial Beach is good this year, Santa Claus will haul that ugly thing away. And maybe if we’re really good, he’ll take the art, too.



Imperial Beach art critic.

Non-Traditional (Part 1)

About twenty years ago, I left college. Not with a degree or a cum laude or any of that; I just left. On Tuesday, I returned to college.

For those of you regular readers, it probably comes as no surprise that I chose to continue my continued education at Southwestern College, a school that I have championed as being far better, and much more deserving than the corrupt Governing Board it was saddled with.

But I’m not going to travel that road today. Today I’m just here to say that I – quite literally – put my money where my mouth was, and enrolled.

After a few oddly nervous days, worrying about what my return to academia would be like, I woke on Tuesday morning without a worry in the world. I got up and realized I wasn’t thinking of this as going to school; I was thinking of it as going to work.

I showered, shaved, grabbed some coffee, and glanced in the mirror to check my man-nificence one last time, then headed to work…er, school.

The first class was Business 120 – Intro to Business. It may seem odd that I was taking the absolute basic business course, but in all my previous college days, I had never taken a single class of the kind. Granted, I had written extensively about business in my freelance writing days, but I thought it might be time to actually get a little education to go with my knowledge.

Michael Van Keith is the instructor, an adjunct professor with style, charm, and magnificent hair. He engaged just about every student, even if they came in forty-five minutes late.

Which leads directly to my first rant: what the hell are people doing showing up for class half an hour late or more? On your first day? Is this a particularly unique way of making a good first impression? Because that’s not what happened. A very young student near me grumbled loud enough to be heard, “This is a business course. It’s not professional to be late.”

A Note From December 24

As the last few hours of December 24th fall away, a terrible Christmas movie is on the TV, the wine and margaritas are flowing into the adults' glasses, and the dogs are wandering around, getting underfoot and being loved. 

I'm in the kitchen of my parents' house in Las Cruces, New Mexico, to where they recently retired.  My girl is here with me, as is one of my brothers and his family.  Tomorrow morning we'll call my other brother, and all of us will call other friends and check in with them.  We won't text them or Facebook them, but we'll call.

As I sip my third chilirita - a margarita made with blackberry/habanero sauce - I feel a slipping of negativity from my shoulders and a blissful sense of peace taking its place.  Right now, there is nothing I wish to bash, no one I want to see imprisoned, no cause I wish to take up.

Except this one: to wish each and every person who reads this a happy, peaceful Christmas with the ones they love.  And if you can't be with them this year, I suggest picking them up and giving them a call on Christmas morning.  Don't text them or Facebook them, because after all, what they want to hear is your voice.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

A Report on the Whereabouts of One Raj K. Chopra

I received a piece of information last week that caused me to laugh out loud – then made me want to throw up a little bit. It’s regarding the former superintendent at Southwestern College, Raj K. Chopra.

What I was told – and it was from an unimpeachable source – is that Raj Chopra has apparently decided to stick around California a while.

Why is this both funny and disgusting? Because the smart money would have had Chopra hightailing it India after his resignation from SWC, or attempting to find new work somewhere on the East Coast, as far from California, Arizona, and Kansas as he could get.

But no. Chopra is apparently spending some quality time in East County (that’s the sparsely-populated central/eastern San Diego County for you non-locals) trying to convince someone to hire him as a school superintendent.

That was the laughy part. Chopra needed to retreat to conservative East County to try to find someone to help him grab a short-term or interim position. When his best possible chance at a career – and coincidentally, the most dignified thing he could do, is to go elsewhere and seek a position, he’s wandering So Cal, hat in hand, looking for an eighteen-month long bit of work.

Because, you see, eighteen months as a superintendent in California is all he needs to become vested in the state’s pension system. If he acquires even an interim position, all he has to do is rest his butt in a chair for eighteen months, say nothing, do nothing, and the people of California will pay for his quite-large pension.

Which he will have earned by turning Southwestern College into an oppressive, frightened shell of itself.

That’s the whole throwy-uppy thing.

It’s imperative that Chopra not be allowed this opportunity. If it’s the work he wants, let him take his carcass somewhere else and find it. Do not let this man game the system. Do not let him earn his pension on the backs of those students who were unceremoniously abandoned or the faculty and staff who were laid off and let go – all do to his butcher’s work to the budget.

He doesn’t want the work; he wants that pension.

Chopra’s biggest supporter, the San Diego Union-Tribune, has long complained about the unions and their “abuses” of the state pension system. But it’s not a union member attempting to abuse the system now; it’s management. Kind of makes you wonder if this makes the U-T reconsider their position on Chopra, or if they’ll unfurl their hypocrisy flag and keep supporting him.

Consider this your Distant Early Warning. Raj Chopra is trying to slip back into the system, all to collect that unearned pension. Don’t let it happen. He’s already left one school in tatters and a nationwide laughingstock.

Don’t let it happen to your school.

Thinking of Scoundrels, Deals, and the Possibilities of the Future

I’m going to muse a bit. Right here, to myself. Just a bit. And while I muse, I’m going to think about scoundrels.

If I was a scoundrel – let’s say I was in a position of some considerable authority at a large institution of some sort…

…and let’s not think too hard about which kind…

…and I had been involved in some truly shady dealing – the kinds of dealings that might lead to a quick appearance in public wearing handcuffs, then I might truly consider what options I had.

I might seriously consider the fact that these shady dealings must have involved others. I might come to the conclusion that people from law enforcement, or even other civil parties, would much rather get those people than me.

And by that, I mean that if a scoundrel had some information, good information that could cause serious legal issues to others involved with these shady deals, that scoundrel would be pretty smart to make a deal.

If that scoundrel were to do that, I know that I, here on these blogs, would surely feel a stirring of warmth in my soul that might cause me to get rid of most or all of this public information.

Of course, this offered information should bring Hell raining down upon people of importance – a Salcido or a Williams, a Hom or a Chopra, perhaps. The more people, the more importance, the warmer that feeling in my soul becomes. And a scoundrel could surely guess how much I’d feel like making that happen.

A lot. A whole damn lot.

Me. This guy writing the blog – I’m not the scoundrel. But I know who is, and he knows I know. He’ll be reading this, and he’ll know I’m talking about him.

And if I were that scoundrel, I’d wonder what any deadline might be for this possibility to happen.

I’d hate to ruin a man’s Christmas, but I don’t think he should ring in a Happy New Year’s before making that decision. In fact, I’m quite certain of that.

Call this my version of flexibility. Call this my willingness to cooperate. Call this my desire to look past things to see a bigger justice done.

Personally, if I was you, I’d call it my best chance at getting rid of some truly distressing baggage and moving onto better things somewhere else.

Call it whatever you want, but you better make that call soon.

My email is on the page.

You know, these blog posts get harder and harder to cover up the longer they’re up…

San Diego Union-Tribune Blasts "Pro-Labor" Forces - McCarthyists Applaud

So, yeah, the San Diego Union-Tribune is at it again. On Wednesday, December 1, the U-T editorial board dumped their latest pro-Chopra screed onto their Sign on San Diego boards.

This comes as no surprise. The U-T’s violently anti-union shtick has helped turn them into a So Cal newspaper punch line again and again. But a quick glance over this newest bit – found here – demonstrates a truly petty, almost lurid sort of pathetic-ness.

Painting the non-related elections at Palomar and Grossmont-Cuyamaca Colleges with the same brush as the one used on Southwestern College is insulting to SWC – and to Palomar and Grossmont-Cuyamaca. Each of these schools did what they did and ran who they ran for the sake of their school, not some fictional pro-labor attack on San Diego County.

Now-former Superintendent Raj Chopra has long been a U-T paragon of all that is good and wonderful in education – a man who “brought hardheaded financial management and no-nonsense leadership at a time when the district needed it,” and like a combination Chuck Norris and John Wayne, fought the teachers’ unions that “enjoyed unfettered freedoms”.

Of course, that’s all crap.

Chopra took his budget machete to classes, adjunct professors, and classified staff in a time when the school had a surplus approaching $15 million – more than it had in years, and more than almost any other school in the state. Yet the U-T continued to defend Chopra, based on his (and the Governing Board’s) claim of ‘coming financial disaster.’ That was an outright lie, and the U-T helped perpetrate it.

Why does the Union-Tribune bother to take these continuing shots at the school? Why do they shriek and point and howl “Pro-Labor Forces are Coming! Pro-Labor Forces are Coming!” like a deranged 50’s era Commie-spotter who doesn’t like the look of his next door neighbor?

(I mean, besides the fact that they’re violently anti-union, and their buddy-chums at the Lincoln Club* might start yanking their advertising if they didn’t?)

Online page views. They don’t care what they have to say to get those views; it matters not one bit to them. You know what does matter? How many times you hit that link and make that comment.

Send that link out to your friends, encourage them to get over there and make another comment; what does that do? It justifies what the U-T has to say. It’s getting readers, you see, and they’ve got proof of it.

Go back and look at it now. More than a day after it was posted, and not a single pro-Chopra comment has been made. All the ones who have spoken up are anti-Chopra, anti-U-T types. That is basically playing into their hands.

They don’t care what you’ve got to say. And not to put too fine a point on it, no one cares what the U-T has to say about Raj Chopra. They’ve done it for so long, so loudly, and so vitriolically that no one actually has to read what they have to say. This piece – and any others that follow it will sway no one. And given how their pet (read: endorsed) candidates performed last month, they didn’t sway a whole lot of folks then, either.

Let it go. It’s time to let the U-T spew their own crap to whoever wants to read it. There are some good reporters there, and a few excellent writers, but they’re overshadowed by an editorial board that can’t see past their own preferences. And though this board doesn’t care what you say, but they’re delighted that you’re taking the time to say it.

*To those who don't know, the Lincoln Club is SD County's hardcore right-wing batch of movers and shakers.

Raj Chopra is OUT at Southwestern College

It appears that all the hard work has paid off. This afternoon, embattled, embittered Superintendent Raj K. Chopra resigned from his position at Southwestern College, taking with him only six months' severance.

This was the second big victory for SWC's pro-student, pro-education, pro-faculty contingent, following the November elections that brought Norma Hernandez and Tim Nader to the Governing Board - along with a 3-member majority.

In fact, it was the former Board's insistence on standing by Raj Chopra that all costs - particularly when supporting his appalling short-sighted budget measures and ham-handed disciplinary actions against the faculty - that turned the election of the board from a formality into a crusade.

The public cannot fire the superintendent, you see; only the Governing Board can. But the public can - and did - fire the Board.

Things are looking up at Southwestern College.

I've included the press release from the school's resident PR flack, Chris "Truth-bender" Bender.


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Tuesday, November 30, 2010

CONTACT:
Chris Bender, Southwestern College
(619) 482 – 6564

CHOPRA ANNOUNCES DEPARTURE FROM SOUTHWESTERN COLLEGE

CHULA VISTA, CA – Southwestern College today released the following statement on the departure of Superintendent/President Dr. Raj K. Chopra:

Dr. Raj K. Chopra is resigning from his current position as Southwestern College’s Superintendent/President effective Tuesday, November 30, 2010. Dr. Chopra’s Employment Contract was to expire on June 30, 2012, but the Governing Board and Dr. Chopra have agreed to end that Contract approximately 20 months early. This will permit the new Governing Board – which will be seated next month – to select a new leader to help the College build for ongoing success. As part of the written agreement between the Board and Dr. Chopra, signed by him today, Dr. Chopra will receive the equivalent of six months’ salary.

“I believe some important objectives have been achieved,” Chopra said. “The College, in spite of unprecedented financial problems at the state level, remains in good financial standing. With the accreditation visit completed this month, construction of the new facilities on the corner lot, the central HVAC and Field House well underway, and Proposition AA projects almost completed, it is the right time.” Chopra expressed his appreciation to the Governing Board for the opportunity to serve the students and community of Southwestern College.

The Governing Board greatly appreciates Dr. Chopra’s hard work, leadership and commitment to the College and his many significant accomplishments. The Board and College wish Dr. Chopra all the best for the future.

# # #

To the Prospective Employers of Nick Alioto

A couple of weeks ago, it was brought to my attention that a certain Vice-President of Business and Finance at Southwestern College is really quite upset that some blogs have said relatively mean-spirited things about him.

By some blogs, I mean mine. By mean-spirited, I mean the ugly truth.

You see, it appears that Nick Alioto is looking for work. Apparently he’s had his Road to Damascus epiphany and realizes that his future at SWC is as shiny as a gallon of Mississippi Mud. But while he’s still got his job, he’s looking to find another.

And he’s afraid that the ugly truth is going to make it hard to get another cushy job where he can move piles of money from one place to another. Apparently he’d like it if I made it possible for him to find that cushy job by taking down all the blog posts and links I have up.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I don’t want Nick Alioto to get that cushy job.

So here are a few things you prospective employers might want to read:

"College VP Raised Money from Contractors He Oversees" [San Diego Union-Tribune]

"Southwestern Suitors" [San Diego Reader] [San Diego Union-Tribune]
"Gala Prize was Napa Weekend with Contracting Official"

"Nick Alioto Under Fire for Financial Shenanigans – Again! And There’s More the U-T Didn’t Know!" [SWC Board Must Go - my related blog]

"Firm Overbills Racine Schools" [Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel]

"Director Left Last District in a Hole" [Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel]

"Racine: The Travesty of Smoke and Mirrors Savings" [FoxPolitics.net]

"An Interesting Story about PBCG Head Nick Alioto" [Real Debate Wisconsin blog]

“Is Southwestern College’s Nick Alioto Racine USD’s Nick Alioto?" [This blog]

"The Plot Thickens" [Save Our Southwestern College blog]

"“Sun” Newspaper Earns More National Kudos; Raj and the Governing Board Still Hate It" [SWC Board Must Go]

"The Human Chord: November Elections Call for Change" [Southwestern College Sun]

"Why You Should Come to Wednesday’s Governing Board Meeting" [SWC Board Must Go]

Besides a chance to gather up these tasty links and repost them for all to see, my reason for this post is simple: I want to spare some other school district the pain that Southwestern College went through.

I have been told by two separate governing board members (one of whom is now an ex-board member) that Alioto was presented to the board to vote on by member Yolanda Salcido - who said he was good for the job. They did no background check on him. (I suppose it's possible that they did, and they were even worse judges of character than anyone considered.)

Out of curiosity, I did the research that found the information on his Wisconsin shenanigans. On Google. In about three minutes.

I hope that whoever is considering hiring him reads this, follows the links, and thanks their lucky stars that they're able to take a pass on him.

And if some board member or upper-level administrator does choose to hire him, this post will remain in cyberspace for eternity, as proof that they chose to ignore the warnings.

With the right blogger or researcher opposing you, it can cost you dearly; trust me on that.

I have a few more posts from an earlier version of SWC Board Must Go that are currently inaccessible. As soon as I can get them up, I'll post those links, too. And if and when Alioto is indicted for his shady actions, I'll be sure and post that, too.

You're welcome.

"In the Closet, On the Shelf"

This was my Halloween short story, initially written for David Hunter's "The Campfire Pages" All-Hallows Eve writing blog.  This is the same story, with no edits.

“When we are children, it’s not the unknown that scares us; it’s the unknown corners of the known that terrify us. We bury our heads under blankets when the oak tree outside blows in the wind and ghouls appear in the branches. We ride past empty houses and down deserted streets on our bikes and we never are anxious. Yet we pass the dark rooms of our own house with quick steps, afraid of what will pull us in with them.

Closets frighten us. Clothes, shoes, toys, coats – they shift and form boogeymen and skeletons, zombies and devils. We would cross the room and push the door closed, but we’re afraid to touch the floor.

Things under the bed also frighten us.

One of my earliest memories is of the closet in my parents’ house. It was room-length, and the doors were sliding mirrored ones. It was nearly impossible to keep them closed. When the air conditioner or the heater came on, they’d sway slightly, and the reflections of the room and windows behind the bed would jump and jitter. In the cracks between the doors, I’d see it watching me.

From high up on the shelves, where the dress slacks and sweaters were stacked, it would squat, waiting for me to sleep.

As I grew older, I realized that there was no monster on the shelf, no little goblin looking down at me. There were just patterns on sweaters and the shine from my church shoes. I never told anyone about the shelf-creature, but then children never told anyone about the horrors they saw. If we cried loud enough to wake mother or father, all they would say is:

“There, there… everything will be all right. There are no such things as monsters.”