Michael Schein

Diversity & Racism

mschein — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 03:24:58 +0000

My daughter just lost her job due to the color of her skin.
She has worked hard all her life. She studied hard in college, earning high marks in history. She lived in a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn, commuting on the subway to Manhattan to attend one of the finest urban graduate schools, known for its teaching program. She worked for free, volunteering at several schools. She went deeply into debt to graduate at the top of her class with a Masters in Education in history and social studies. As part of her rigorous training, she student taught at an inner-city school, where the kids loved “Mizz A.” In her final evaluation, the supervising teacher praised her compassion and enthusiasm. Streetwise kids of all colors and religions cried when she left.
Like all but a handful of new graduates in her department, my daughter was unable to find steady work her first year out of school. It was hard on us all. She substitute taught. She tended bar. She moved back in with us. All she wanted to do was to teach middle or high school kids. Don’t we need teachers? Isn’t education the key to economic recovery and global competitiveness? But the investment banks and insurers had vacuumed all the money out of our economy, and school districts around the country were forced to lay off teachers, creating a pool of experienced applicants who would always beat out the new graduates for the scarce job openings.
I told her, “Stick with it. You’re good at what you do; you’re passionate; we need teachers. You’ll get your chance.”
The only openings were in the private schools. After hundreds of rejections and dead ends, my daughter was among the few fortunate recent graduates to land a real teaching job. Sure, it was an 80% time job replacing a teacher on sabbatical, but it was a foot in the door at a good Eastside private school. I was naïve enough to tell her she was on her way. “Do the great job I know you can do, and they’ll find a place for you in the future.”
For you see, as a father, I had the same dream for my daughters that Martin Luther King had for his: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
I am proud to say that my daughter did the kind of job you see in those exhilarating movies like Mr. Holland’s Opus or To Sir with Love. She inspired! Many of her students will remember her as the teacher who changed their lives. Not only were her evaluations stellar, but parents spontaneously wrote and called to commend her work with their middle-school kids.
As a bonus, my daughter is a trained musician and singer. When the school suddenly needed someone to conduct the orchestra, she was able to step in and do a great job. That’s what special teachers can do.
A job opened up at the school. A real, full-time spot in the middle school social studies program. The administration opened the position to competitive application. My daughter’s supervisor was appalled; letters of support for her poured in from her teaching colleagues. But you already know the end of this story. The one thing my daughter had no control over – the color of her skin – determined that no matter what she had done or what she could do in the future, she would not be re-hired.
Did I mention that she is Caucasian? The school calls it diversity. I would call it racism. I do not make that charge lightly. I am a liberal; I understand that affirmative action was a reasonable remedy for past wrongs. But it was necessarily a temporary remedy, because it punishes new generations for the sins of those who came before. It institutionalizes racism, and “group guilt.”
I call “diversity” racism for two reasons. First, it is an excuse for judging applicants based on the color of their skin. This is contrary to the fundamental American principle that “all men are created equal,” deserving to be judged on their own merits. Second, it is based on the assumption that children cannot learn as well from persons of other races. This is false. Children are filled with love, not prejudice – until we teach them that it all comes down to race. Sadly, that’s what “diversity” hiring does.
Racism is no less poisonous when turned against a white person. Don’t tell me that my daughter has had the greater opportunities. She got into UW on her own merits. She worked for everything. We aren’t wealthy.
So long as we judge people on the color of their skin, nobody is safe. Today, racial minorities benefit. Tomorrow, the tables may turn. The only real protection against discrimination for all races is discrimination against none. “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” – Martin Luther King.
Who suffers from this form of racism? Obviously, great teachers like my daughter. If not for the accident of race she would have her pick of jobs, even in this economy. But the reality is, we all suffer. The children suffer, because they are deprived of a proven teacher who has shown she can inspire them. The school suffers from needless controversy and the disillusionment of faculty. Society suffers because racial strife is exacerbated. Once again, we confront the hard truth that all are not of equal worth.
What are the lessons for our children? That no matter how hard you work, no matter how good you are, it all comes down to the color of your skin. For shame.

Leavenworth I love you!

mschein — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 01:25:11 +0000

Call me a sucker for kitsch, lederhosen & polkas, but really it is the mountains everywhere, A Book for All Seasons, and Red Bird cafe a/k/a Good Mood Food, that made our recent trip memorable. Pat, Lilly-Anne & the gang kindly hosted this lesser-known scribe & my dear wife in the Sherlock Holmes room of the Innsbrucker Inn, a quaintly decorated literary establishment right in the heart of town. On Friday night I got a chance to talk WA history & Bones Beneath Our Feet while showing historical slides at the local library. The next day, I met with a number of interesting local readers at the bookstore. It is such a pleasure watching a twenty-something choose between Catch-22 & War&Peace.
Not to leave you in suspense, she chose Tolstoy. Ambitious! Ah, youth . . .
This seems to have about wrapped up the many BONES appearances. I’m ready to move on to my new venture – Wry Ink Publishing – and our first release, set for April. More on that later. Don’t worry – I’m too busy to yodel.

Just Deceits hits #1?!

mschein — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 17:33:32 +0000

Ahh, the mystery of the internet, the e-world, the unknown. My first novel, JUST DECEITS: A HISTORICAL COURTROOM MYSTERY, hit #1 on the paid KINDLE list in the legal thrillers category this past week. I’m delighted – it is such a great read – but also somewhat mystified and humbled by the alchemy of the eBook. Here’s a book that came out from a tiny Seattle press in 2008, with NO reviews, NO marketing, nothing, nada, zip – one that in the old lit world would have been deader than last week’s newspaper in the blink of an eye, instead gradually climbing, climbing, like the Little Engine that Could, through the never-out-of-print ranks of the undead eBooks, till BANG-O! with a little help from a few free download promotions, suddenly it takes off. Listen up, dear fellow writers: the primary lesson here is, give away free books! Counter-intuitive, but well worth it. And with eBooks, it’s easier, since after all, they don’t cost anything to give away. I will also add that I’m not even sure that JUST DECEITS is a legal thriller. It certainly isn’t the John Grisham Scott Turow Bob Dugoni type book, since it is a historical novel as well as a courtroom drama. But who cares? It hit #3 in the historical novel category on paid KINDLE downloads, too. So, if you’re looking for a great read – please try JUST DECEITS. & here’s a secret: you don’t even need a Kindle. It is available at Secret Garden Books or on Amazon in old-fashioned trade paperback too. Write on!

Bon Voyage Nellie!

mschein — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 16:06:35 +0000

How sweet it has been to have our daughter back for almost a month. She’s a freshman at George Washington U, way across the country in that other Washington. It’s a place she’s growing to love, and the place where she’s growing by leaps & bounds. A place to which she returns tomorrow. She’s not independent – it’s all fueled by parental support – but in all other respects she’s now an adult, and we’re simply the booster rockets falling back towards earth. She’ll be doing an internship with the Democratic Governors Ass’n, and a heavy load of credits, followed by summer who knows where – and all we can do is sit back and cheer & worry & be happy for her. In the words of Kahlil Gibran:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

Bon Voyage, Nellie! We love you in ways you may someday understand, in ways we do not even understand ourselves . . .

Just Deceits beats Bones, but that’s not all folks!

mschein — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 01:45:30 +0000

Laid up with a case of 2nd book-itis. JUST DECEITS consistently outsells BONES BENEATH OUR FEET. What do I care? I wrote them both. The good news is that I’ve got a 3rd in the wings, waiting to fly. & like every next book ever written, this one is the very very bestest in the whole wide woild, the next MOBY DICK and HOWL and CUCKOO’s NEST wrapped in one roasted banana peel. A book not yet cooked is such a delightful fantasy – like a lover merely imagined. No inlaws, arguments over money, or hairs in the sink yet. Just the pure platonic form of literature, the great seductress, the oracle that answers all quests. Onward! Spit in the Reaper’s Eye, wink at the void, and have a pretty good weekend too. Hell, it might even snow in Seattle – stranger things have happened.

Out of Nowhere – Secure your load!

mschein — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 15:41:01 +0000

I just finished OUT OF NOWHERE, a book by Ballard author Peggy Sturdivant and by Robin Abel, mother of Maria Federici, a young woman whose face / life was shattered by a piece of an “entertainment center” that came crashing through her windshield during her commute home from work. This is an excellent journalistic telling of the true tale of a tragedy that spurred rebuilding two lives, and agitating for changes in the law. The offending board came off a poorly-designed U-HAUL open trailer, but the pervasive message is to secure your load on any vehicle as if your own son or daughter were riding in the car behind you.
Next, I’ll return to the refuge of poetry & fiction – I’ve had more than enough reality lately. I’ve been reading outside my comfort zone on behalf of my fellow Ballard Writers. If you are interested in the amazing & diverse talent in our neighborhood, please CLICK HERE.

Hippie Boy

mschein — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 03:41:58 +0000

No, not a new moniker for my altered ego, but a great read written by Ingrid Ricks. Hippie Boy: A Girl’s Story is a wise YA memoir suitable for A’s of all ages. Hippie Boy tells the chilling tale of growing up fundamentalist Mormon and bouncing between EARL the holier-than-thou freeloading stepfather and a Willie-Lomanesque real father, doing endless loops selling bric-a-brac on the road, while dodging the law. All’s well that ends well, and Ingrid today is thriving with a hubby & kids here in quirky Ballard. I recommend her book.

Snake swallowing its tale

mschein — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 00:45:36 +0000

Yes, the misplaced homonym is intended. If we write as an outlet to maintain sanity, why is the writer’s life beginning to drive me insane? I’ll do what I’m sure some writing seminar is built around not doing: give away the answer at the outset. BECAUSE WHAT I’M LIVING IS NOT WRITING; IT’S MARKETING! So fuck that. I learned yesterday from a friend in the know that the best way to build my brand is to give away as many Kindle downloads as I can for free. Digital kindling. Sure, why the hell not; I can embrace the koan that to impart value I have to let go of the idea of value. But even to do this, I have to create passwords and navigate the backpages of some arcane system, when all I really want to do is write. Years ago I went through the workshops that clarify why I write, but I think I got it wrong. It was something lofty about uncovering meaning. The closest I can come to an honest answer today is, to scratch that itch. No one needs an audience for that. In fact, it feels better without one, since it can be damn embarrassing. The writing life provides unique rewards, but they are not financial. The more we stress to measure success in books sold and deals inked, the more writing resembles manufacturing, used car sales, or investment banking. So, as I say at the end of most of my emails, WRITE ON – and leave the rest (in Yeats’ felicitous phrase) to “the noisy set of bankers, schoolmasters and clergymen, / the martyrs call the world.”

Among the Wonderful

mschein — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 01:03:01 +0000

I’ve recently spent time among the wonderful – that is, reading AMONG THE WONDERFUL, Stacy Carlson’s wonderful historical novel set in 19th Century New York, at Barnum’s American Museum. Much of the novel follows Ana Swift, “World’s Only Giantess,” and her perspective on life is – well – different, though rich with shared humanity. I didn’t take notes to do a real book review – this is just a fellow historical novelist tipping my hat to a writer I admire. Ms. Carlson (native Seattleite, now living in Oakland says the liner notes), has gotten it oh so right! I recommend it.

Ballard Writers Rock

mschein — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 17:07:19 +0000

Last night I attended the 2nd Annual Ballard Writers’ Book Slam, organized by the incomparable networker / journalist / writer Peggy Sturdivant (Out of Nowhere). What a surfeit of literary talent we’ve got here. I’m not one of those feel-good guys, who says everyone is wonderful. But almost everyone was wonderful! I thought I brought a program home, but I can’t find it, so – from memory – Who’d have thought I’d love a book about Balance, but he sold it. Then there’s Urban Gardening – yuck – I don’t dig dirt, but I dug his prose. Fellow LiTFUSIAN Ann Teplick was intensely stirring, and Ingrid Rick’s Hippie Boy engaging & disturbing. Laura Cooper landed her fish, her man, and her memoir, all in one hand-over-hand yank. Corbin Lewars is always a welcome voice, and I was so touched to have inspired Alison Krupnick to drop all pretense of “quiet desperation” in favor of the writer’s life of noisy desperation & joy – www.sliceofmidlife.com. Donna Miscolta’s When the de la Cruz Family Danced is one of my wife’s faves of the year, and in my to-read pile. Then there were the new sensations – the rapping kids, the poet/novelist to Donna’s left (hello!), and my personal favorite of the newbies, Alma Garcia – look for her tentatively titled fiction of border tension, Shallow Waters, on a bookshelf near you in the coming years. Finally, the old pro (who I’m sure is younger than I am) Stephanie Kallos (Broken for You, Sing them Home) treated us to a snippet from her work in progress, and it knocked my socks off with its free flight of poetic description. Thanks to Secret Garden Books in Ballard (Christy, Suzanne) for supporting this event – shop your local bricks ‘n mortar bookshop. To those I haven’t mentioned – apologies! Don’t worry, nobody reads this blog anyway. I just like to write . . .