Friday, August 28, 2020



Ohio State University suspends 228 students for violating pandemic precautions even before classes begin

Even before classes began Tuesday, The Ohio State University temporarily suspended 228 students who officials said broke guidelines around social gatherings during the coronavirus pandemic.

The suspension comes as K-12 schools, colleges and universities across the country contend with how to start and safely continue the academic year during a worldwide pandemic.

Ohio State, located in Columbus, is one of the largest in the country, with nearly 70,000 students.

Students moved back to campus starting August 12. At the time, the university sent out a note telling students they must wear a mask, practice social distancing, and that gatherings could not include more than 10 people.

In the note, Vice President of Student Life Melissa Shivers warned the university's student conduct team was in the process of opening dozens of cases that would likely result in interim suspensions.

Shivers also made clear that student organizations involved in unsafe gatherings could lose their university recognition and funding.

"Perhaps knowing about the action we are taking will influence your decisions and prompt you to encourage others to take this situation seriously" Shivers wrote in her Friday letter. "And remember that this is all about more than the individual. We have one shot at this -- responding to what so many of you asked for: an on campus semester at Ohio State."

The Office of Student Life is monitoring off-campus neighborhoods and is reporting students who might have broken rules, school spokesman Benjamin Johnson told CNN.

SOURCE 





Whither Race-Neutrality in California?

In 1996, California voters approved Proposition 209 by an impressive 56-to-44 percent majority. Prop 209 amended the state’s constitution to prohibit the granting of preferences based on race or gender. It inaugurated a series of campaigns, led by businessman and University of California Regent Ward Connerly, that by 2006 had established similar prohibitions in 10 states.

A few weeks ago, in a move perfectly in sync with the racial politics of 2020, the California legislature put a referendum on the November ballot that invites voters to repeal Prop 209. The new Proposition 16 would allow the state government, and state officials, to take racial and gender “diversity” into account in their decisionmaking. In other words, it would allow officials in state government and state universities to freely discriminate on the basis of race or gender.

Listen closely, and you will hear that race-conscious preferences to achieve “equal” racial representation is the principal substantive idea that advocates for change are advancing to combat America’s fundamentally “racist” nature. Increasingly, there is no pretense that this is about eliminating discrimination.

On the contrary, it is about institutionalizing discrimination to achieve racial proportionality.

The spirit is well-captured by a recent, full-page headline in the New York Times’ Arts & Leisure section that read, “Fix Classical Music. Now.” Inside, the Times’ classical music critic, Anthony Tommasini called for abolishing blind auditions—a reform that was instituted by most top orchestras in the 1970s and 1980s to overcome a history of discrimination against women. Tommasini conceded that blind auditions might have been useful in increasing the number of women in orchestras, but now, they have become an impediment to achieving racial diversity. This sort of logic can only end in the assignment of orchestral seats on the basis of race.

This is the same thinking driving Proposition 16—just substitute “Berkeley and UCLA” for “top orchestras.” The proponents of Prop 16 believe merit-based admissions amount to some sort of institutionalized racism because, at California’s most elite public schools, they produce too many Asian Americans and not enough Blacks and Latinos.

This year’s first big assault came in April, when the University of California’s Board of Regents voted unanimously to eliminate the SAT and ACT as factors in admissions decisions. UC’s Academic Senate—the voice of the UC faculty—had, a month before, issued a unanimous report urging that the SAT and ACT be retained. But to the Regents, standardized testing had become the academic equivalent of a blind audition—an outdated obeisance to the idea of “merit” in a world where full racial representation is the dominating goal.

To those of us who study affirmative action objectively, rather than ideologically, the pervasive obsession with diversity is only half of why the unfolding story in California is so depressing. The other half is the determination of university officials, legislators, and journalists to ignore the basic facts underlying racial preferences and race neutrality in the UC system. To see this, we need to briefly revisit what brought about Prop 209 and what happened when it passed.

In the mid-1990s, when the UC Regents were considering SP-1, a forerunner to Prop 209 that would eliminate race and gender as admissions factors, the university had been using preferences on an increasing scale—particularly at its most elite campuses—for over 20 years.

The practice was steeped in cynicism; administrators at my own law school were well aware that students granted the largest preferences were likely to have mediocre grades and fail the bar exam, but keeping the racial composition of the class “in sync” with the racial composition of the applicant pool was thought essential to keep the peace.

At the undergraduate campuses of Berkeley and UCLA, preferences for Blacks and Latinos were equivalent to two hundred points on the 1600-point SAT and half-a-point on a 4-point GPA scale. Administrators ignored the reality that these preferences placed minority students at a huge academic disadvantage. The results were scandalous. Blacks at UCLA and Berkeley had four-year graduation rate averaging only 15 percent; fewer than half of these students ever received a UC degree. Black and Latino GPAs lay mostly in the bottom fifth of their classes. And although hundreds of these minority students wanted a degree in STEM fields, they had only a one in three chance of obtaining one, compared to a 70 percent chance for Asian Americans and a 65 percent chance for whites.

Moreover, UC was doing nothing to “grow” the pool of high school students qualified for UC admissions. The number of black students applying to UC was 2,159 in 1989, and 2,149 eight years later, the last year of racial preferences.

The passage and implementation of SP-1 and Prop 209, which both took effect in fall 1998, had almost miraculous effects upon this picture. There was an immediate jump in the rate at which highly qualified African American and Latino students admitted to the UCs—particularly at Berkeley and UCLA—accepted offers of admission. The obvious implication, consistent with careful research, is that minority students were very attracted by the idea of attending a school where there would be no taint of preferences on their presence and, eventually, on their degrees.

UC administrators could not bring themselves to admit—much less promote—the remarkable successes of a policy they had publicly opposed.

Meanwhile, the university itself made a fundamental change in its approach to diversity. Since it could no longer merely use preferences of whatever size was needed to create the desired racial mix in the freshman class, UC began to develop outreach programs to build stronger applicant pools in low- and moderate-income communities. In other words, UC began to practice true “affirmative action” as it was originally conceived in the early 1960s. UC campuses built learning partnerships with poor-performing schools. Students were helped to understand in 9th grade the set of courses they would need to take to qualify for UC admission. The state invested more in high schools, and high school dropout rates for Blacks and Latinos fell nearly in half.

The UC system continued to use preferences, but these preferences were based on socioeconomic status, not race, and they were much smaller than the old racial preferences, thereby usually avoiding the mismatch problem.

The results were stunning. Black applications within California to UC, which as noted earlier stagnated from 2,191 in 1989 to 2,141 in 1997, rose to 3,108 in 2003, 4,153 in 2008, and 5,728 in 2012. Latino applications rose even faster—by a factor of five over the 15 years after Prop 209.

Four-year graduation rates for both groups more than doubled, GPAs rose, and successful persistence in science fields rose as well. The number of Blacks receiving UC bachelor degrees rose by over 60 percent from pre-209 cohorts to those admitted 10 years later, with STEM degrees by Blacks nearly doubling. Latino bachelor degrees rose nearly 100 percent, with STEM degrees up by over 125 percent.

These were the changes for the groups that, according to the opponents of Prop 209, would be decimated by Prop 209. For whites and Asian Americans, the improvements were much less dramatic, though improvements there were. For them, the biggest and best change was to be free of invidious discrimination.

There was only one problem in this picture: UC administrators could not bring themselves to admit—much less promote—the remarkable successes of a policy they had publicly opposed. Therefore, they could not push back against protesters who demonstrated against the declines in black enrollment at Berkeley and UCLA. Instead, they aligned themselves with the protest, instituted procedures that quietly (and illegally) reinstated preferences, and, this year, have supported the abolition of the SAT requirement and the repeal of Prop 209.

We are thus faced with a fall election that will test, more severely than ever, whether the common sense of voters, and their fundamental aversion to racial discrimination, will beat back the collective efforts of California elites to make a mindless “diversity” mantra drown out the clear story told by the facts.

SOURCE 






The Dark Side of Distance Learning

Parents across America being forced to deal with the technological and administrative burdens of “distance learning” face severe consequences, even potential criminal charges, if they fail to meet these challenges.

One might think that actually getting a student to sit in front of a laptop for hours on end would be a victory in and of itself. Now, however, parents have the added stress of making sure nothing that might be seen on camera behind and around the child shows anything that could be considered politically incorrect, or that might trigger a report to the “authorities.” Failure to do so could result in a visit from the police. This is exactly what happened to the mother of a fifth-grade boy in Baltimore.

The student was a Boy Scout and his mother a Navy veteran. They made what turned out to be a serious mistake during a distance learning session, when they failed to realize that hanging on a wall behind where the boy sat for his video learning session were two BB guns, including a fabled “Red Ryder” model. This oversight was sufficient to trigger fear in the fifth-grade teacher on the other end of the video session, who quickly reported the “disturbing” images to her school principal. Up the chain of command the report went, from the teacher, to the principal, and to the police who were summoned to search the house for “weapons.”

Even more disturbing than the fact that a teacher apparently became traumatized at the sight of a BB gun on a bedroom wall, was the fact that, according to media accounts, the initial call came from “a concerned parent.”

The Baltimore incident typifies the “zero tolerance” policies that schools across the country have for years followed. These policies allow no room for reason or common sense, and which in this era of “distance learning” are being abused in deeply disturbing ways.

According to news reports of the Baltimore incident, the mother of the fifth grader herself posed a number of important questions to the school and to the police, none of which were answered as they should have been were we living in a society protective of individual privacy, rather than one that most highly values the power of government entities (in this case, public schools).

The boy’s mother asked the right questions -- who exactly is able to access the videos of her child as he complies with mandates that he sit in front of a computer video camera to “distance learn?” What happens to the video images and screen shots of the children? Why did the school officials call the police rather than simply phone the parent to obtain the facts and voice their concern?

The only reply from the school officials was that they followed their precious “policies,” including their view that the rule prohibiting students from bringing weapons to school applies equally to “distance learning.” In other words, if a rule prohibits bringing a gun to school, it also prohibits “bringing” it to a “virtual classroom” (also known as a “bedroom” if that is where the student’s laptop is set up). Despite the profoundly idiotic nature of such a policy interpretation, the teacher and principal at this Baltimore public school apparently believe the nonsense they were uttering.

As disturbing as is the privacy-invasive nature of this incident, and the implications for students and families wherever “distance learning” mandates are in place, it gets worse.

In Boston, for example (and almost certainly other cities), parents are being reported to the Department of Children and Families for alleged “child neglect” if students are not logging in to their “virtual” lessons for the requisite time. Despite there being any number of legitimate reasons why a student might not be properly logged in -- such as the parents not being fully cognizant of online learning protocols, or their having to rely on an older sibling to ensure the youngster remains on-line -- failure can result in visits from the authorities, and even criminal charges.

As with the Baltimore mother, parents in cities like Boston face the worsening nightmare of navigating the techno world of “distance learning” being administered by callous and unthinking bureaucrats with the power to have you thrown in jail at their whim.

SOURCE 






Mass: Even in union-free charter schools, leaders are embracing a virtual start to the school year

As teachers unions statewide continue their push to keep classrooms closed this fall, another sector of public education, largely free of unionized teachers, has also jumped onto the remote learning wave: charter schools.

All 15 of Boston’s independently run charter schools have decided with little public fanfare to start classes in cyberspace — a broad consensus that suggests the reluctance to reopen classrooms this fall goes well beyond teachers union agendas. Only City on a Hill Charter School in Roxbury has unionized teachers.

Some charter leaders who initially were hoping to kick off school with a mix of in-person and remote learning said they have noticed increasing hesitation about reopening classrooms in their surveys and virtual town hall meetings.

Much of the unease, they said, was due to an uptick in COVID-19 cases in some neighborhoods, apprehension about older students riding the MBTA, and uncertainty about how COVID-19 affects children.

“I think at the end of the day, the safety of our students, families, and staff has to come first,” said Kate Scott, executive director of Neighborhood House Charter School in Dorchester. “I know the numbers in Massachusetts are not the same as in Arizona and Florida, but some hyperlocal issues remain and things will probably get worse when college students come back.”

Scott added there were no good options for reopening school this fall — education can’t exist the way it did before March as long as the pandemic is around — but she added schools have a great opportunity to reinvent education, and the best first step is to create a robust virtual schooling experience for students and teachers.

Several Boston charter schools are planning to implement what they call “remote-plus,” in which they intend to reopen some classrooms to serve high-needs students. All are planning to give students learning remotely assignments they can do offline, such as hands-on projects or community service.

The charters are also stressing the need to provide students time for healing. A few, like Neighborhood House, are working to bring students back for outdoor activities — masks on and socially distant — so they can build stronger relationships with their new classmates and teachers and have a safe place to talk through issues.

Conservatory Lab Charter School in Dorchester is planning a two-week in-person orientation, before switching over to remote learning, so students can pick up musical instruments, learn the technology platforms they will be using, and create bonds with one another.

Some charter schools also needed time before opening classrooms to figure out transportation. Typically, the Boston Public Schools provide buses, but with physical distancing, it’s unclear if the district will have enough buses or when they might be available.

Going remote was a difficult decision for charter leaders, who are keenly aware of the harm prolonged school closures could cause their students, academically and emotionally. Boston charters overwhelmingly enroll students who are Black or Latino, many of whom live in poverty, and the pandemic is threatening to widen achievement gaps between them and their Asian and white peers.

But concern over safety in the age of the coronavirus also runs high in many of their students’ neighborhoods and communities. COVID-19 has disproportionately impacted people of color, and many charter students live in neighborhoods with high rates of residents testing positive for the virus, such as East Boston, Dorchester, Roxbury, and Mattapan.

Meanwhile, many students are still grappling with the fallout from the police killings of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and others, while they also feel growing urgency to combat racism — making in-person schooling an ideal place to tackle both as a community.

Arianna Constant-Patton, an incoming senior at Boston Collegiate Charter School in Dorchester, embodies many of the conflicting feelings students have about returning to classrooms amid the twin pandemics of coronavirus and racism.

“I feel like I’m treading water in the middle of a river and I can’t see the waterfall in front of me,” she said. “It’s not good.”

She said she is frustrated that classrooms won’t be reopening. She’s nervous about navigating the final stages of applying for college from home — a process already disrupted by the cancellation of SATs and campus tours — and how online schooling will affect the quality of her classes, her grades, and her patience, given they will have a full day of Zoom classes.

Yet the idea of returning to classrooms makes her uncomfortable, because she lives with her grandmother and doesn’t want to contract COVID-19 and transmit it to her. She also questions whether she could tolerate wearing a mask all day in school and how it would impede class discussions, especially when everyone is 6 feet apart.

Knowing the high stakes for their students, charter schools finalized their reopening plans earlier this month and at the end of July so they could refocus their energies on getting instruction humming by opening day.

Charters also are using this time to prepare for the eventual return of students to classrooms part time, hopefully sometime this fall, an effort that requires safety modifications to facilities, more adjustments to teaching, and potentially securing alternative transportation.

“We want to make sure teachers have the time to develop the lessons they are going to deliver in a virtual world that will be inspiring to kids,” said Shanna Varón, executive director at Boston Collegiate, stressing she doesn’t want students sitting in front of computers all day.

Some city councilors, like Andrea Campbell and Michelle Wu, had urged the Boston Public Schools to wrap up their reopening plans early so they could focus on implementation.

But instead Mayor Martin J. Walsh and school officials, who want to reopen classrooms, spent much of August engaged in a public battle with the Boston Teachers Union, which pushed for a remote start.

On Friday, city leaders announced at a City Hall press conference that schools would begin remotely.

Across the city on Friday, the independently run Boston Preparatory Charter School in Hyde Park was immersed in preparing for the new year. Staff were programming student laptops, teachers were inventorying science equipment, and construction workers were tearing down walls to create “supersize” classrooms for social distancing.

“What we are continuing to work on with our community is increasing the comfort to open in a hybrid manner,” said Sharon Liszanckie, the school’s executive director.

Liszanckie said she hopes to bring students back to classrooms a few weeks into the school year. Until then, the school will go strong with remote learning, she said. Students will take six Zoom classes a day, receive two targeted academic interventions, and will have access to online clubs and virtual office hours with teachers.

Other charter schools are also crafting virtual schedules that mirror a regular school day.

Still, some parents wish classrooms would just reopen.

“To be honest, remote learning when they first put it together was rough,” said Natalie Branch-Lewis, whose 13-year-old daughter is an incoming eighth-grader at Boston Prep. ”My daughter was like, ‘I don’t have to get up and go to school.’ She would sit there and turn off the Zoom camera.”

While her daughter was looking forward to returning to classrooms and socializing with friends, Branch-Lewis said she understands why Boston Prep decided to stay remote, noting the school did a good job communicating with families this summer, and she likes that they have developed a detailed plan.

Varón, of Boston Collegiate, vowed online learning this fall will be more vibrant than the hastily arranged remote learning of the spring.

“My great hope is that at the end of the school year we will feel grateful that we were pushed to do great things because of the crisis we are in,” said Varón, who added it won’t be easy as the pandemic drags on.

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