In 1848, Sam Brannan – an ex-communicated Mormon – ran through the streets of San Francisco yelling that there was gold in the foothills. Of course, this man who single-handedly started the gold rush bought up all the picks, pans and mining equipment he could find before announcing the discovery to the world.

In 1859, San Fransisco resident Joshua Norton – an Englishman who came to the city by way of South Africa – declared himself Emperor of these United States. Norton I: Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico, later dissolved congress, saying:

It is represented to us that the universal suffrage, as now existing through the Union, is abused; that fraud and corruption prevent a fair and proper expression of the public voice; that open violation of the laws are constantly occurring, caused by mobs, parties, factions and undue influence of political sects; that the citizen has not that protection of person and property which he is entitled to by paying his pro rata of the expense of Government–in consequence of which, WE do hereby abolish Congress.

Over the years, he issued several other decrees, printed his own currency, and continued to insist his title was Emperor. How did San Fransisco respond? They called him Emperor and local establishments accepted his currency.

In 1863, Lillie Coit became an honorary member of the “Knickerbocker 5″ volunteer fire fighters unit. This woman wore pants, fought fires, smoked cigars and gambled. It was all very scandalous, except nobody cared – she was just another character in a thriving city. Coit Tower, shaped like a fire hose nozzle (possibly apocryphal), now stands in her memory.

These folks – and many more I’ve failed to mention – may have been a little eccentric, and possibly mentally ill, but they were part of the life blood of San Fransisco. Part of character of westward expansion.

The people who settled California in these decades were exploring the final frontier. They came from around the globe. All of them were outsiders. Many of them hoped to find something in this “undiscovered” country. Most of them were crazy in one sense of the word or another.

The laws of high society hadn’t quite made it out here. The rough and tumble attitude allowed unique characters to thrive. This, of course, wasn’t always for the best – I understand the “Shanghai-ers” formed a union as they carted men off in the night to serve aboard ships.

And this isn’t some ancient, long forgotten history. These are the stories I heard growing up. These are the heroes I was taught to admire.

To be honest, California is still a little rough and tumble and it’s certainly still home to many colorful characters. We may be misfits without high society to keep us proper, but…it’s all good, man. We get by.

Shoot for the moon, the common saying goes. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.

Then, of course, there’s the more skeptical version of that expression:
Shoot for the Moon. If you miss, you’ll end up co-orbiting the Sun alongside Earth, living out your days alone in the void within sight of the lush, welcoming home you left behind.

So what is a person to do? Is it better to dream the impossible dream or to manage expectations?

Are the two mutually exclusive?

Maybe, maybe not. Aiming for perfection is all well and good – it’s when that aspiration meets the real world that things get dicey.

First, there’s the practical problem. If you do all things perfectly all of the time – you really aren’t accomplishing much at all. Perfection is an ideal. It arguably doesn’t exist. As Voltaire wrote in La Bégueule:

Dans ses écrits, un sage Italien
Dit que le mieux est l’ennemi du bien.

In his writings, a wise Italian
says that the best is the enemy of the good.

Perfect’s not so perfect any more if the task never gets done.

Perhaps perfection is going too far, but perhaps one could still aim for perfection and settle for above average.

The challenge here is not so much where you aim, but where you land. If you really aim for perfection – work for it with everything you’ve got and pour your heart and soul into getting there – will you really be satisfied with good enough? Even if that good enough is above average, that’s still mighty short of perfection.

And that’s a recipe for disappointment. Perhaps even a recipe for assuming failure.

Arguably, that sense of failure could lead you to try harder next time – to be better next time. But, it seems to me, that sense of failure is just as likely to set you off on a downward spiral of accepting defeat before you’ve begun.

I don’t think there’s a formula that works for everyone. But I do wonder if we can blur the lines a little more than they’re typically blurred. Sort of a hope for the best, plan for the worst model.

Perhaps, instead, I would propose something like this:

Shoot for the moon – but if the conditions are unfavorable, reschedule the launch for tomorrow. That’s better than dying in space.

On April 15, 1912, Margaret Brown – a new money socialite who was quite outspoken for a woman of her time – survived the sinking of the Titanic. She helped evacuate other passengers before being pressed to board a life boat herself. She then argued with the Quartermaster, insisting the boat take on more passengers and search for survivors. It’s unclear who won this fight, but my money’s on Molly.

This incident, as well as a series of other misfortunes in her life, earned this daughter of Irish immigrants the moniker “unsinkable.”

It seemed like nothing could pull her down.

She died in 1932 at the age of 65.

A few years ago, I started calling my grandmother unsinkable. After my father passed away, a friend who had also lost a parent described how difficult it was to hear other people talk about their living parents. “And grandparents,” she added. “Grandparents enrage me.”

I could appreciate where she was coming from, but I didn’t know how to respond. I’d lost so many people in my life – a father, an uncle, a cousin, peers – but I still had one grandparent standing. She was unsinkable.

Born on August 23, 1924, my grandmother was a child in the Dakotas when the Dust Bowl swept up. Her family moved to California where she was mercilessly mocked for her accent. Life wasn’t always easy, but she was tough. Whatever life threw her way, she emerged on the other side.

I gather she was scandalously strong and outspoken. Unbecoming for a properly lady, perhaps, but with that working class Irish attitude that expects pain with a tightened jaw. Not that she didn’t complain.

Her physical ailments were many. I lost count of how many times she had cancer over the years. Her recent life became a series of regular hospital visits. It always seemed dire, but she always came back. Unsinkable.

She passed away on March 17, 2014 at the age of 89.

Unsinkable til the end.

Over the weekend, I attended a community organized discussion about PARCC, which stands for Partnership for Assessment of Readiness for College and Careers, though I prefer to call it “the test that’s replacing MCAS.”

Built around the new Common Core state standards, PARCC is an online math and English/language arts assessment being rolled out in 17 states. Massachusetts joined the PARCC consortium to receive federal “Race to the Top,” funds. In the fall of 2015, the Massachusetts State Board of Elementary and Secondary Education – fondly known as BESE – will vote on whether to adopt PARCC or stick with MCAS.

More immediately, PARCC is about to be field tested on 15 percent of Massachusetts students. In my community of Somerville, students will be taking PARCC next week.

When 40 parents and teachers gathered at the East Somerville School at 9am on Saturday morning, we started by trying out some sample questions for ourselves. Personally, I went with 3-5 math, 3-5 ELA, and high school math.

The format of this online test is really interesting. When I took the GREs, it had a computer-based format, but that test was essentially an electronic scantron. It would ask you a question, you’d select A-D, and it would automatically advance you to the next screen. It benefited from digital technology, but was not significantly shaped by it.

The PARCC, however, is designed with online technology in mind. You can drag and drop answers, highlight text, draw shapes and interact in ways that a scantron won’t allow. The math sections have free response boxes where you can write out equations – which seemed cool, until I realized I couldn’t figure out how to format the equations properly.

High school math was particularly challenging. It had word based problems that I would read, re-read, and then think…wait, what are they asking?

After playing around with the test, we discussed what we thought of PARCC and its roll out. I was particularly impressed with the tone of the conversation – community members asked questions, community members shared answers. People spoke from experience and referenced where they had learned certain pieces of information. People followed up on each other comments, introducing themselves as they went. Everybody spoke. Deliberation at its finest.

People worried about computer literacy. One teacher commented that computers were disappearing from the classroom – they’re too expensive to maintain, she said. A parent said his daughter didn’t remember the last time she used a computer in school.

An English Language Learner teacher wondered how her students would respond to this new test.

People wondered why PARCC is time limited – a change from MCAS which is not.

Some liked that the test demands more critical thinking. It’s testing a deeper level of knowledge that our children should be acquiring. Some worried that the format – online, fixed response boxes, and asking only for the final answer – wouldn’t allow children to demonstrate whether they had acquired that deeper level of critical thinking or not.

Finally, people showed love for their schools. Somerville schools are fantastic, one parent said, but it’s never reflected in the numbers. How can we really show the great things going on in our schools?

Tests can be important tools for improving instruction, a teacher added. But there is more to a child then their ability to take a test.

“Take the Test Day” was sponsored by the Somerville Teachers Association, Citizens for Public Schools, and the Somerville Family Learning Collaborative.

Today is March 14 – 3/14 – affectionately known as Pi Day.

Larry Shaw, a physicist at the San Francisco Exploratorium, is widely credited as holding the first official Pi Day Celebration in 1998. The event has grown since then – with the U.S. Congress eventually passing House Resolution 224, declaring March 14, 2009 as National Pi Day.

The full text of the resolution is pretty fantastic:

 March 12, 2009.

Whereas the Greek letter (Pi) is the symbol for the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter;

Whereas the ratio Pi is an irrational number, which will continue infinitely without repeating, and has been calculated to over one trillion digits;

Whereas Pi is a recurring constant that has been studied throughout history and is central in mathematics as well as science and engineering;

Whereas mathematics and science are a critical part of our children’s education, and children who perform better in math and science have higher graduation and college attendance rates;

Whereas aptitude in mathematics, science, and engineering is essential for a knowledge-based society;

Whereas, according to the 2007 Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS) survey done by the National Center for Education Statistics, American children in the 4th and 8th grade were outperformed by students in other countries including Taiwan, Singapore, Russia, England, South Korea, Latvia, and Japan;

Whereas since 1995 the United States has shown only minimal improvement in math and science test scores;

Whereas by the 8th grade, American males outperform females on the science portion of the TIMSS survey, especially in Biology, Physics, and Earth Science, and the lowest American scores in math and science are found in minority and impoverished school districts;

Whereas America needs to reinforce mathematics and science education for all students in order to better prepare our children for the future and in order to compete in a 21st Century economy;

Whereas the National Science Foundation has been driving innovation in math and science education at all levels from elementary through graduate education since its creation 59 years ago;

Whereas mathematics and science can be a fun and interesting part of a child’s education, and learning about Pi can be an engaging way to teach children about geometry and attract them to study science and mathematics; and

Whereas Pi can be approximated as 3.14, and thus March 14, 2009, is an appropriate day for `National Pi Day’: Now, therefore, be it

Resolved,
That the House of Representatives–
(1) supports the designation of a `Pi Day’ and its celebration around the world;
(2) recognizes the continuing importance of National Science Foundation’s math and science education programs; and
(3) encourages schools and educators to observe the day with appropriate activities that teach students about Pi and engage them about the study of mathematics.

There’s a debate raging. Well, it’s been raging for awhile, but there’s a latest wave in the headlines.

Some folks are encouraging us to ban bossy and to “encourage girls to lead.” In response, others advocate that we should not ban bossy, but instead encourage girls to be bossier.

This is a good conversation to have.

Frankly, my position is this:

• Whatever your gender, don’t be a [insert colorful word of choice]
• Whatever your gender, don’t make judgements or assumptions about others based on their actual or perceived gender.

It should be that simple, but unfortunately it is not.

There are entrenched inequalities, hard fought battles, and deep wounds which aren’t easy to heal.

If any person says they don’t feel comfortable sharing their opinion for fear of being branded and outcast, that is a problem. Regardless of your personal experience with bossy, it’s important to recognize others’ truths. For some, it’s a trigger word which evokes decades of shaming, fear, or oppression.

I’m not prepared to tell any person they shouldn’t be tilting after bossy if they feel so moved. We all crusade after our demons.

But this negative reaction to bossy isn’t everyone’s experience. Some people feel pumped by bossy, some people are proud to own bossy, some people think, aw, yeah, I do I want.

Others are neutral.

These perspectives are equally valid.

So now we have a fight about bossy. Should we ban bossy? Not ban bossy? If all perspectives are valid, then who’s right and who’s wrong? Is there one group we should protect or defer to over the other? If all perspectives are valid, that leaves only one possible solution.

Everybody’s right and everybody’s wrong.

Does that mean we shouldn’t argue about it? Absolutely not. Let’s talk about it. Let’s fight about it. Let’s debate it until no one has the energy to bring it up any more.

Yeah folks disagree. And that is great.

But in all the debate and discussion I would urge this: remember that it’s really about people.

It’s not about boys vs. girls or women vs. men. As much as it is about gender, it’s not about gender.

What this conversation is really all about is making sure that every single person – every one – can be the best person they can be. Whatever words you use or don’t use, let’s strive for that.

I had an interesting conversation recently, with young people who felt disillusioned with the non-profit world after having the opportunity to work…in the non-profit world.

They were stuck by the scrambling for money, the disorder, the politics, and the in-fighting between seemingly like minded groups.

“I thought non-profit work would be all nice and fuzzy,” one person reflected, “But it’s not all sunshine and butterflies.”

A few adults in the group – who had experience working in non-profit and other sectors – reassured them.

“Before you get too disillusioned with non-profit work,” they said. “Remember that it’s basically the same no matter what sector you work in. It’s the same in corporations and the same in academia. It’s just human nature.”

I found that oddly…not reassuring.

If I was feeling more satirical today, I’d argue that we should emotionally scar all our young people – so they grow up healthy cynics prepared to take on whatever terrible things life throws their way. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and we do, after all, have a responsibility to ensure the strength and vitality of the generations that follow.

But I guess I’m feeling more practical today, because what I really want to know is how we can support people through these first forays into the real world. Prepare them for the “realities of office life,” as one person said, without brushing off all the ills of the world as inevitable.

More deeply, how can we all collectively – now and in the future – move towards systems and institutions which aren’t as corrupt, bureaucratic, or disorderly as they seem when you first encounter them? I can’t help but wonder if my years in the “real world” have dulled my senses to this behavior. Has some of this become so every day that I don’t think to question it any more?

No, it is not all sunshine and butterflies – not in the non-profit world, and not in life. Frankly, I am okay with that – I sunburn easily and “there is no sun without shadow,” as Albert Camus says.

But that doesn’t mean shouldn’t strive towards sunshine and butterflies. That sounds nice, doesn’t it? Even if we never get there? Even if we don’t really want to be there?

So today, I leave you with the absurd – shall we purposefully prepare ourselves and our children to strive for the unobtainable? And can we avoid burning out from certain defeat?

When I go to work, I am a professional. When I go to a community meeting, I am a citizen.

If I go to a community meeting for work, I’m a professional again. If I go to a community meeting representing an organization I serve on an unpaid board for…then I think I’m a citizen again? Unless I’m serving on that board for work…then I’m a professional.

It’s all very confusing.

Everyone wears many hats and has many different roles, but I find this gap between our professional identities and citizen identities particularly interesting.

I don’t strip my soul when I walk into work, nor would I be willing to.

Similarly, I like to think that the knowledge and perspective I’ve gained through my paid work brings value and perspective to my unpaid work as a citizen.

I know for sure that I appreciate it when some one stands up in a public meeting and says, “I live down the street and I’m actually a [fill in the profession], so I think…”

Albert Dzur, political science professor at Bowling Green State University, develops the idea of democratic professionalism. He is interested, as his website explains, in “how collaboration bridges the distance between professionals and the communities they serve.”

In Democratic Professionalism, Dzur frames this in terms of the Dewey-Lippmann debate:

[Walter] Lippmann’s realist argument held that the American public could not make rational contributions to the policy-making process because the time, ability, and interest levels of the average citizen were no match for the complexity of contemporary issues…A realistic view of public capacities would lead to a chastened democratic theory that emphasized the professionalization of policy making.

…[John] Dewey argued that public incompetence is not, as Lippmann thought, simply a matter of a lack of individual intelligence or rationality. True, a large number of citizens are unable to cope with the issues affecting them because they lack the time, information or analytic tools, but Dewey thought the underlying reason for this incompetence was a failure of social organization.

When I read these arguments and discussions about collaboration between professionals and communities, I can’t help but wonder – are the citizens and professionals different people?

It sure sounds like they are.

It seems to me that whether I think professionals are scallywags aiming to wrest  power from citizens, or whether I think citizens are incompetent and can’t be trusted with any serious issues…really comes down to a question of whether I think I’m a citizen or whether I think I’m a professional.

And I use the term “professional” broadly – to include so-called white color work and blue color work.

Now, there are some interesting questions around expertise in public settings. Co-founder of the Highlander School Myles Horton professes to have once refused to provide expertise to a community member even when threatened at gun point. His role, he strongly believed, was to educate – but to let people make their own decisions.

But I see expertise as being different from professional.

Expertise is a resource, something that must be cultivated and, in some cases, sustained. It’s something you gain, and generally something that isn’t diminished when someone else gains it at well.

A professional is a person. A person with expertise, no doubt, but a person none the less. And that person is part of communities and holds multiple self-identities. That person is a citizen.

So setting citizens again professionals – or even bringing the two together in collaboration – seems like a false dichotomy. Citizens are professionals. Professionals are citizens.

What we should really be asking ourselves is:
1) How can we help people bring their citizen and professional identities together, strengthening both their “work” work and their community work?

and, importantly:
2) How can we best share expertise? How can we all educate each other, and how can we build a society where people’s professional achievements are driven by their interests and passions, not solely by what doors weren’t closed to them?

If “professional” refers only to a certain class of people – whether driven by income, race, gender, native language or other factors – if “professionals” are a closed, elitist group – well, that is a problem indeed.

We’ve been mapping morals in the class I’m co-teaching this semester. As my co-teacher and colleague Peter Levine has shown, this technique can also be used to map literary characters.

So, for fun, here’s some mapping of Hamlet from three of his soliloquies.

We meet Hamlet for the first time in Act 1, Scene 2. At this point, Hamlet has not spoken to the ghost who walks the ramparts. But while Hamlet doesn’t yet consider his uncle to be guilty of fratricide, it’s clear there is little love lost between the two men – a little more than kin, and less than kind.

Thus, Hamlet’s first soliloquy, O, that this too too solid flesh would melt – or, as it’s more colloquially known, the frailty thy name is woman speech – serves as an introduction to the points of tension in the play. Or, as mapped:

The first act ends with Hamlet speaking to the ghost, who reveals itself to be none other than Hamlet’s deceased father. Not only dead, but murdered by his uncle. The serpent that did sting thy father’s life/Now wears his crown.

His father’s ghost urges him to act:
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned incest.

Hamlet isn’t sure what to do. He has a duty to his father, but he has a duty to the crown, and to the uncle who now wears it.

By Act 3, Scene 1, Hamlet is at a mental and emotional loss for how to handle the situation, delivering his famous To be, or not to be speech:

Simplicity is part of the beauty of this speech. Its essence is truly encapsulated by that first line – to be, or not to be.

At other times in the play, Hamlet rambles from one idea to another – the turmoil and confusion he feels expressed in the wandering of his words. But here we see him struggle with the same idea over and over. To be, or not to be.

That is, indeed, the question.

This is an important turning point in the play. While Hamlet finishes this soliloquy unresolved and convinced that Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, he also realizes that he will not act on his suicidal thoughts.

He spends the next two acts debating what to do, but at its core – the moment he decides not to die, the moment he decides to be, is the moment he decides to act on his father’s wishes – to act on life if not on death.

In Act 4, Hamlet becomes thoroughly resolved to avenge his father. He has determined his uncle’s guilt and, while he still struggles with the reality of what he feels he must do, Hamlet is convinced of the path he must take. In Act 4, Scene 4, Hamlet gives his How all occasions do inform against me speech. He reflects on the evidence, examines his own morals, and comes to the inescapable conclusion: He has a moral obligation to seek revenge.

All this mapping is, of course, quite subjective. I used my own judgement to pull out themes from the three soliloquies and my own judgement to estimate what ideas Hamlet was linking together.

But, I believe, there is value in this activity. Consider for a moment the above maps merged into one:

Repeated ideas here are considered to be the same node and nodes and edges are color coded by when they are mentioned.

This could certainly be helpful from a literary view – the network seems to capture many of the play’s key themes and shows Hamlet’s inner turmoil. But could this be helpful from a civic point of view?

What would happen if Hamlet met someone convinced that one’s only duty is to the living? Or someone convinced that existence beyond this mortal coil wasn’t something to be afraid of? How would Hamlet interact with that person? Would he be taken with their arguments?

The specific questions are beyond the point. The real question, of course, is this – how do your personal questions, beliefs, ideas, struggles and experience define who you are, and how does that shape your interactions with others?

For example, when you meet someone new, are you quietly thinking in the back of your mind: Like me, or not like me?

That is the question.

I strongly dislike the phrase “YOLO,” the perky abbreviation for “You Only Live Once.” I was never a big fan of carpe diem, but at least the Latin gives the sentiment a little class.

Urban Diction defines YOLO as “The dumbass’ excuse for something stupid that they did.” Which is, I suppose, pretty much how it’s used.

It is, of course, everybody’s prerogative to embrace YOLO or whatever other life lessons they so choose. I’m not here to judge. But I find it disturbing when people shout the phrase with unbridled cheer.

You only live once. Indeed. Embrace the sentiment if you would like. But what does it really mean?

You Only Live Once means accepting that you can’t change the past. It means recognizing that the present will soon be gone, and that whatever you do today you’ll have to live with tomorrow.

You Only Live Once means cherishing every moment. It means there’s no such thing as wasted time. The line at the grocery store is a opportunity for self reflection. Sitting at the bus stop is a chance to watch the clouds. Every moment is a moment for thought, reflection, observation and beauty.

You Only Live Once means not worrying about what will happen after the here and now. These are the only moments you control, and this is your only chance to control them.

And, of course, You Only Live Once means that you might die tomorrow. And if you hope to die with no regrets on your lips, you’d best accept your death every moment of every day. You Only Live Once means you should fall asleep prepared to never wake up, and you should wake up prepared not to make it through the day.

Again, it’s everyone’s prerogative to embrace such sentiments if they so choose. But the dark reality of what it means to only live once seems more appropriate of Nietzsche than a girl downing jello shots.

So I’d propose a slight modification to this expression. Instead of You Only Live Once, let’s say what this really means. You Only Die Once. You only die once, and if you’re unlucky, that might happen tomorrow.

A bit wordy, perhaps, but that’s an expression I could get behind.