The Los Angeles Times (via This Week in Education) reported a disturbing trend among our student today — “teacher baiting.” The object? To see if you can make a teacher mad enough to explode, secretly tape the teacher with a cell phone, then post the resulting clip to YouTube. If it is unclear that “teacher baiting” is the intention behind the filming, why not try checking out a few of these videos on YouTube and see what you think? It became clear to me after viewing just a couple that the students were manufacturing situations in order to purposely upset teachers, including everything from disrespect and refusal to comply with teacher requests all the way up to bothering other students and provoking fights.

YouTube has so much potential. We can use YouTube to communicate, to create content, to share. Sadly, it seems a large number of teens are using it mock, torment, and perhaps even invade the privacy of teachers and other students in their class. I think this behavior is reprehensible. Because we apparently cannot trust children to use the technology in an appropriate way, it will be necessary to remove access to the technology. I think that’s a shame — so much good can come of it when it is used appropriately. However, knowing schools like I do, I am fairly certain the majority of them will opt to take the easiest route and ban YouTube (which won’t prevent students from posting videos at home) and cell phones (which will be easy to get around).

Because of the close-knit community at my school (and, I think, genuine camaraderie and affection between faculty and students), I cannot see this becoming a big problem at my school. It never occurred to me that kids would do something like this. I have to admit, I’ll be watching out for it, and not because I plan to “blow up” or even because I become angry or frustrated with my students on a regular basis. The fact is that I don’t. I am a fairly patient person. I would see this as an invasion of privacy and intrusion upon my personal rights.

What would you do if you saw something like this happen? What do you think we should do to prevent it?

[tags]YouTube, teachers[/tags]

I read “Forever Young” (registration required) by Steven Drummond in Teacher Magazine with interest. Sadly, I think most of us have worked with a permutation of this guy:

[A]fter watching the grizzled American history teacher for an hour, I saw why the girl had asked me [to be her teacher].

He’d been on the job for about 35 years, and, as he told me later, he’d passed up a buyout offer because he was at the top of the union scale, and didn’t want to give up his paycheck. The man was apparently having a rough year, though—they’d finally replaced the old textbook he’d been relying on for years.

The students who needed an A or B to get into college—mostly girls—sat up front and quickly filled in the blanks of a Louisiana Purchase worksheet the teacher had passed out. The rest of the class—mostly boys wearing jeans and black T-shirts—played cards in the back, but he didn’t appear to mind.

Minutes before the bell rang, a girl raised her hand. There seemed to be two possible answers to one question on the worksheet. The teacher looked confused as he tried to find the correct one in the textbook. Finally, he pulled out the old textbook, flipping through pages before shaking his head and saying he’d give credit for either answer.

It was a required course, and the students were stuck with him. Even the ones who did the work weren’t really learning anything. Knowing very little about me, a few of them quietly told me as I wandered around that they wished I could be their teacher. Not that I’d done much more than walk into the room: I simply wasn’t the burned-out guy up front.

My first year teaching in a poor, rural school, I worked with a few guys like this. One took all his days off as he earned them. Every month, like clockwork, Mr. H. took his day off. We had a history teacher who retired the year I started. The only thing I ever saw him carry out of the building was his hat. He left right at the bell and never did his bus duty. I immediately thought of that man when I read the above excerpt. He was all but phoning it in at that point. The fact is, though, I can’t say the majority of veteran teachers are like the guy in this article. I don’t think most teachers like this guy last long enough to be “grizzled veterans.”

I was thinking about it the other day, and it occurred to me that for the first time in my career–this year–I have thought of myself as a veteran teacher. This is my tenth year teaching if you count the year of pre-K I taught (neither employer I had after the preschool counts it, however). I mentioned in my first post about teaching Romeo and Juliet that I am currently teaching it for my seventh year. I don’t think I teach the play exactly the same each time. I have also taught works such as The Great Gatsby, Huckleberry Finn, The Crucible, and To Kill a Mockingbird many times, and my approach varies each time, but I don’t get tired of any of those novels. Part of the fun of teaching those books is rediscovering the literature each time with new students. This seems to be the lesson Steven Drummond drew from his observations of good teachers over the years: “What I learned is that none of them does quite the same thing in the classroom twice, and none teaches like the other. But they do have one key trait in common: they’re self-propelled.”

One of the things I find frustrating about some teachers is their lack of willingness to change. I am passionate about new technology. My SMART Board projector has been flickering. When the technician came in and checked it out, he told me they could loan me a projector while they fixed mine. He must have seen me blanch, and I told him in no uncertain terms that I can’t teach without the thing anymore, so I have to have it working. He laughed and said it wasn’t the first time he’d heard that. It’s true, though! I didn’t have a SMART Board until September of this school year, but now I am so addicted to it that I can’t be without it. The possibilities are endless–if I know of a website students might be interested in, I can pull it up right then. I can pursue teachable moments. On the other hand, learning how to use new technology is intimidating for some. I know how my classroom has transformed through my use of the SMART board, blogs, and wikis. I know it could transform others. I also know not everyone is patient enough to really learn how to use all of this technology, and that fact makes me sad.

I consider myself an autodidact when it comes to technology, and I actively pursue learning opportunities. I admit to being shy of podcasting and digital video editing, but I have just started getting my feet wet in both areas, and I was so excited to learn something new that can help my students. As Drummond says, “fresh [teachers’] best source of professional development isn’t a mandated chalk-and-talk or some perky pep rally, but their own curiosity.” If you really don’t want to learn how to do something new, and you know who you are, you won’t. Instead, you will grumble about the new requirements/book/class you have to teach, and you’ll likely wind up like the teacher in the quoted passage above.

One the other hand, it isn’t as though you have to constantly do things differently. As veteran teacher Mathias Schergen said, “I guess that’s part of the reason to stay excited and stay geeked up about it,” he explained, “because I see the progress in my own teaching. I just like the idea of always refining and expanding what I’ve done already.” I think I might be able to plan some parts of my curriculum in my sleep. I have a trusty file cabinet repository of ideas, and I remember what worked before. I don’t have to reinvent the wheel each time I teach. The difference is that I try to stay excited and look for new angles. I like to “stay geeked up” about teaching.

I think there is great potential in technology to allow teachers to connect and grow professionally. One point Drummond makes in his article is that teachers have been expected to work in a degree of isolation. With the explosion of the edublogosphere, many teachers now have a voice and a place to throw out ideas and learn new things. I personally think it is unfortunate that some teachers tend to use their blog as a platform to complain. We all need to vent sometimes, but if that’s all your education blog consists of, what sort of message are you sending–perhaps without realizing you’re doing so–about your satisfaction with your career? Shergen noted, “We have our little powwows and cry on each other’s shoulder, [but] I learned very early on from a very wise teacher that you can get caught in the blame game and you don’t go any further. It’s a way of abdicating your responsibility in the situation.” Barnett Berry, founder and president of the Center for Teaching Quality in North Carolina, calls those teachers “lounge lizards.” I have been one myself at one point in my career, I think, but eventually I reached a point when I had to decide if I really wanted to teach or not, and if I wanted to, I needed to force myself not to do it halfway–for the sake of the students and for my own well-being, I had to keep it fresh, or I would not last as a teacher. How miserable must teachers like the history teacher described in the quoted passage above be? Ticking off days until retirement, grumbling about the students/parents/administration in the lounge? Who wants to live like that?

One of my wise colleagues said to me that one of the reasons she teaches is that it keeps her young. That’s because she keeps it fresh, she likes to learn new things, and she has a sense of humor. Teaching is exhausting. It’s challenging. I think you have to be willing to adapt in order to enjoy teaching after 20 or 30 years, but it is possible. I don’t have all the answers, but I know an open mind and willingness to learn is a start. Isn’t that what we ask of our students?

[tags]education, teaching[/tags]

One of the persons who commented on the article I submitted to English Journal was interested in learning more about my experiences as a non-Jewish teacher working at a Jewish high school. I decided not to go there because it would have detracted from the article’s purpose. I think I mentioned the fact that I am not Jewish in the first place because I wanted to credit my colleagues with helping me make connections between the literature we studied in my classes and the students’ Jewish culture and teachings. I never really meant to make a “thing” out of being a non-Jewish teacher because my students don’t make a “thing” out of it.

This morning our school dedicated a new sefer Torah, a Torah scroll. You can learn more about the making of a sefer Torah at Rabbi Miller’s website. He is a sofer, or scribe. A sefer Torah must be made of all-natural materials. The sofer must handwrite all of the Torah on a prepared scroll, a process which can take more than a year. In addition, any errors will render the Torah invalid. According to our Rabbi Gottfried, if the sofer makes an error, he or she must wait for the ink to dry, then carefully scrape the letter from the parchment. For this reason, sefrei Torah (Torah scrolls) are very valuable and expensive; however, they are not made to be showcased behind class — students handle the Torah during prayers, although to preserve the Torah as much as possible, the students avoid touching it with their hands and use a pointer to read. If the Torah needs repair, it must be done with natural materials — tape won’t fix a rip in a Torah scroll.

A Torah Dedication is a big deal. Students I had never seen in ties were dressed up. Students who don’t normally wear the kippah (yarmulke) were wearing one. Members of the community were invited to participate. Our headmaster played his accordian, and lots of people danced (I just got out of the way), including my principal, who is Catholic. Watching this dedication reminded me of something I do love about teaching at a Jewish school — watching the cultural traditions. Shabbat, or the Sabbath, is closed with a ceremony called Havdalah, and each time I have been present for this ceremony, it is followed by music and dancing that I can’t describe unless you’ve seen it. I suppose the best description might be this: last year when my husband and I took our children to a Shabbat trip, or Shabbaton, my husband was fed up with our kids and wanted to duck out early. I didn’t want to miss the music and dancing, but I agreed to go. Then it started, and I nudged my husband. “I thought you wanted to go!” I said. He replied, “Actually, now I want to stay and watch this.”

My own religious tradition has no such ceremony. I come from sturdy Protestant stock, I suppose. My immigrant ancestors included Huguenots, Quakers, and Pennsylvania Dutch of unknown religious origin. I have distant ancestors who may have been Crypto-Jews, but it is most likely something I can never prove based on the information I currently have. I find much beauty in the ceremony involved in Judaism. I am not sure I could ever live with some of the restrictions, such as kashrut (eating kosher), keeping Shabbat, and the like, but I do enjoy being on the periphery.

I was talking with one of our math teachers today. He happens to be Jewish, and he has taught me a great deal about some aspects of Jewish culture. For instance, he told me how to find symbols indicating whether or not food is kosher on packages. He regularly teaches Israeli dancing, but I haven’t learned yet. He is approachable and very kind. We were discussing the differences in our religions today, and I mentioned that for many Christians, there is no gray. You either believe all of the Bible or you are saying you believe none of it. Students at our school are taught to question or challenge everything, including religious teaching, in order to find their own path in Judaism. We have students who claim to be atheists as well as strictly observant students. The math teacher indicated that our school is unique in that regard because it is a diverse Jewish school; students from the three major Jewish denominations — Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox — all learn together at our school. Believe it or not, this is a somewhat radical concept, and our school is one of the first “transdenominational” Jewish high schools.

I told the math teacher that I have been undergoing what I consider a crisis of faith for about two years now. I am not exactly sure what I believe. I am interested in Judaism, but my Christian faith is too deeply entrenched. I don’t, for instance, question Jesus’ divinity as part of the Trinity. What do I question? Certainly other messages I have been taught — that anyone who is not Christian will not go to Heaven, for instance. My headmaster is the kindest, warmest person I have known in my life. I cannot for an instant belief that he is, as I have been taught, destined for condemnation because he is Jewish and not Christian. I heard one of my former colleagues telling a story about a friend of his who was, I think, a female pastor (though I am uncertain of her denomination). She was very interested in Judaism; she even said that she would consider converting except for one thing: she couldn’t give up Jesus.

Sometimes I think my religion is dominated by people who follow Jesus not because they want to — because they appreciate his teachings — but because they are afraid not to. I don’t really even think a lot of people of my faith even believe half of what Jesus said or believed; at any rate, many of them certainly don’t act like it. This conundrum is at the center of my dilemma. The age-old struggle with hypocrisy. I told the math teacher that I had actually considered making an appointment with Rabbi Gottfried to discuss my “crisis.” I laughed, noting that I found it interesting I was considering going to a rabbi before a pastor of my own faith to find answers. The fact is, I’m not really sure what Protestant denomination would be right for me, or even if there is one.

Last year, one of my former students declared I was an honorary Jew. She said it in a joking manner, but I knew that behind the joking was acceptance. Because I have tried to understand and to question and to bring elements of Jewish culture, history, and religion into my classroom, I am accepted. But the fact is, I would be accepted anyway; that is the way of the culture in my high school. I think the students appreciate the efforts I have made, and on one or two funny occasions, I found myself in the unique position of educating students about some element of Judaism that they didn’t know!

Because I was on the faculty as a new Torah was dedicated, Rabbi Gottfried dedicated a letter, “dalet” (“D,” for my first name) in our new Torah in honor of me. Furthermore, Rabbi Gottfried looked up the Torah Portion for the week in which I was born to find this letter. The Torah Portion the week I was born happens to have been Deuteronomy 26:15, rendered thusly according to the NKJV (which I have to admit is becoming a favorite for readability combined with poetry):

Look down from Your holy habitation, from heaven, and bless Your people Israel and the land which You have given us, just as You swore to our fathers, “a land flowing with milk and honey.”’

I haven’t figured out why yet, but I found it appropriate.

I suppose this was a very personal post for this particular blog, and I admit I am kind of nervous about putting it out there, but participating in the Never Forget Project has been making me think about my own role in our project and at my school. Feel free to ask me questions about this post, especially if you want me to explain any aspect further.

[tags]Judaism, education, Jewish high school, sefer Torah, sofer, Torah dedication[/tags]

Her name was Kia. It actually took me a few days to remember that, though I have never forgotten her face. What made me remember her name? I recalled that at the time I taught her, I had associated her name with a fledgling car company. Then I remembered. I was a first year teacher. She was in my difficult sophomore class. They began testing me the second day. I was trying get a student who had just been enrolled in the class set with books and a syllabus, and I had this crazy idea that the class should be working quietly while I did this. They had another idea. I remember becoming so frustrated at one point that I told the class that it should be so quiet that I could hear a pin drop. Of course, I’m from the South, so pen/pin sound the same to us. They all dropped their pens. I remember the dread I felt at that moment. They were going to be difficult. And they sure were.

I had 33 students in that class. I had to put my large desks in tables because they wouldn’t fit otherwise. I was never given enough desks for all the students in that class. The class tested me at every turn. We were all confined together for 90 minutes every day due to the asinine 4X4 block schedule our school had adopted. No one will ever be able to convince me that a 4X4 block is a good idea. Oh sure, I had four classes each day. I also had each of them for 90 minutes.

I can’t remember anymore why I had asked Kia to go to the office. I remember very clearly that she was digging in her heels and wouldn’t leave. It was becoming a power struggle. I finally picked up her backpack, preparing to escort her myself when she snapped. She threatened me. To be honest, I can’t even remember what she threatened to do. I turned on my heel and went straight to the principal. That’s when I melted into a puddle of tears. A student had threatened to actually, physically hurt me.

I might be able to consider myself lucky compared to other teachers — I have only been threatened once. Once was enough. Kia was suspended for five days. Then she was returned to my classroom without incident. The principal visited my class a couple of times after that just to make sure all was well. I did not go home the day of the incident, even though my principal offered. To me, that would be like letting the kids know Kia won. I knew for sure the kids would talk about it. I knew it would be all over the school.

Kia was strange for the rest of the year. One would think she would give me dirty looks whenever she saw me, but it was quite the opposite. She would smile and say hello. As if nothing had happened. I still scratch my head over it.

Watching Freedom Writers put me in mind of this experience and several others I had, both as a student and as a teacher. When I reflect on this experience after nearly 10 years have passed, I don’t feel angry. I can’t even remember the details. Funny, isn’t it? One would expect never to forget something like that. And I had trouble even remembering her name.

[tags]Freedom Writers, school violence[/tags]

Are any of you going to see Freedom Writers? I just sent an e-mail to my department head asking if she’d like to go see it with me this weekend. I wasn’t sure if she had heard of the movie (I hadn’t until a couple of days ago), so I enclosed the IMDb link for the movie. I was curious about some of the message board subject titles on that movie’s page, so I logged in to see what was up. Looks like the board is on fire with debate about the merits of what appears to be yet another movie featuring a white savior who transforms the lives of students who are mostly underprivileged nonwhites living in neighborhoods infested with gang activity. On the one hand, those naysayers have a point. There have been quite a few movies like this one. Dangerous Minds and The Ron Clark Story come to mind. However, there are also movies like Stand and Deliver and To Sir With Love that feature inspirational teachers of diverse racial backgrounds. Erin Gruwell, who wrote The Freedom Writers Diary: How a Teacher and 150 Teens Used Writing to Change Themselves and the World Around Them, also happens to be white, so on the other hand, I don’t understand criticism about her race. It seems as though the movie producers were trying to be accurate. Amazing, inspirational teachers work all over the world and never get recognition or attention outside of the students whose lives they touch. I think many people who go into teaching really want to touch students in the way that Erin Gruwell has.

My first year teaching, I taught at a rural, underprivileged school not far from Macon, Georgia. We had a gang problem — there was nearly a fight between two boys of rival gangs in my classroom because one of them had a Band-aid stuck to his shirt. I can only remember that it was some sort of gang code for something, but what it meant I have since forgotten. I deeply wanted to show these kids that they were smart, that they had a future, that they could write. They wrote poetry — some of it I still remember well. They read Shakespeare. They also had a lot of problems, and I was not the transforming power I wanted to be — the kind of teacher one sees in these sorts of movies. I would like to think that I touched the students in some way and that some of them still retain positive feelings about their reading and writing experiences in my classroom. Truthfully, however, I’m not really sure I made much of an impact. I ran into many of them a couple of years after I left the school at a field trip to the very Shakespeare play — A Midsummer Night’s Dream — that they read in my class. We were such a poor school that I made photocopies of the entire play for the students. The other 10th grade English teacher didn’t teach Shakespeare. She disliked Shakespeare (which I never understood — how can you be an English teacher and dislike Shakespeare? — but then, I don’t understand how anyone can dislike Shakespeare) and didn’t teach his work. Her rationale was that she knew students would all read Macbeth in the 12th grade, as our 12th grade English teacher always taught that play — as if exposure to one play is enough! I am getting wildly off-topic, so just before I veer back on course, I just want to add Shakespeare is my favorite writer to teach, and I am currently enjoying a study of King Lear with my seniors.

Back on track. Where was I? My point was that despite the fact that the students were glad to see me at the play, and that I was truly glad to see them, I didn’t come anywhere close to doing for them what teachers like Ron Clark or Erin Gruwell did for their students. I couldn’t handle working at that school, where lack of discipline and violence ran rampant, and my principal denied there was any problem to a ridiculous degree. I just couldn’t do it. And where am I now? At a private school teaching students who for the most part have more opportunities in life than I have had. Sometimes I tell myself they don’t need me… but all students need good teachers — even those who don’t live in a ghetto rife with gang warfare. I am not sure anymore where I’m going with this post. I suppose I’m just dumping my feelings. I think in some way, I am trying to say that I would have loved to have transformed the lives of my students. I don’t think I did, but I think I gave them a good education for the time they were in my classroom. Their faces are blurring, and I can’t recall most of their names now. I am immensely proud of those teachers, like Erin Gruwell, who really do something amazing for the students who need them the most. I am honored to share the same profession with the likes of these educators. They are outstanding, and they succeed against some tough odds. I suppose, therefore, that it bothers me when such inspirational stories are reduced to a debate about the fact that the teacher is white.

[tags]Freedom Writers, teaching, writing[/tags]

I obtained my first teaching certificate in 1997 upon my graduation from UGA. I taught for one year at Twiggs County Comprehensive High School and then for three years at Warner Robins High School in Middle Georgia. Upon relocating to North Georgia, I did not immediately find a teaching job. I did find a temporary teaching job as a daycare facility’s pre-K teacher, and though I was not certified to teach early childhood or primary school students, I believe I was the only certified teacher at the center. I worked for two years at Snellville Middle School following my pre-K job, after which I ended up back in high school (where I belong) at the Weber School. This is my third year at Weber.

I have a theory, and I am interested to see what any of you think of it. My theory is that it takes a teacher two years teaching at the same school, same subjects, in order to feel completely comfortable — like a competent veteran. I have noticed that each time I worked at a new school, I felt like a first-year teacher all over again. Each school as a different curriculum, culture, climate, and system of rules. It seems to take me two years to get all that down. After this point, working as a teacher seems easier. I already have, for example, handouts, quizzes, tests, and other materials already prepared, so it takes me less time to plan. I have already had time to teach material and learn what works well and what doesn’t. I get to know what my students will most likely already know or will already have done by the time they come to me. It’s a wonderful feeling. It really makes me feel more organized. I also feel like I get assignments graded more quickly — probably because creating materials takes less time.

For only the second time in a career in its tenth year, I feel that sense of comfort that comes with working at the same school for the third year in a row. What about you? How long do you think it takes you to feel comfortable and completely competent at a teaching post?

Education Week recently had an article about challenged books (subscription only).  I have never had any problems with parents disagreeing with reading selections I ask their child to read.  One thing that seems clear to me after reading the article is that it might not be a bad idea for our department to come up with a procedure for challenging books, just in case a parent ever does have objections.  I have to say that my experience of parents of my students at Weber is that they are well-educated, thoughtful, and want their children to be exposed to divergent thinking.  They are open-minded and intelligent.  I could be mistaken, and someone will surely correct this notion if I am, but it seems to be common in Jewish culture to test, to question, to learn, to expose one’s self to other viewpoints.  Thus, I have not found that they concern themselves with challenging book choices; rather, they seem to embrace our curriculum, as they embrace their children’s intellectual freedom.  At least, that is how it seems to me.

The article recounts an incident involving a school library and a concerned parent in Fayetteville, Arkansas.  The parent apparently objected to a large number of books, most of which were not described in the article.  The book she seems to be most upset about is It’s Perfectly Natural by Robie H. Harris and Michael Emberley.  The article seems to imply that the parent, Laurie Taylor, only wanted to prevent her own children from being able to check out the book, as well as the other books on her list; however, a quick glance at Laurie Taylor’s website tells another story — what she really wanted was to remove the books.

I have always felt that it is the parent’s prerogative to decide whether or not their children should read certain books.  My mother often read books she had concerns about, but I can only remember her telling me once that she didn’t want me to read something, and to be fair, it was a romance novel that was too old for me at the time I wanted to read it.  On the other hand, I am vehemently opposed to removing books from a library because one or even the majority of parents feel the books are not appropriate for their own children.  If this is the case, they have every right to ask that the library put some sort of block on the child’s library card.  I do not think this is an unreasonable request at all.  They do not have the right to tell other parents that certain books are not appropriate for the children of those other parents.

We all have different levels of tolerance for what we consider appropriate.  I think Taylor’s labelling of the books as “pornography” is taking things too far, and she was apparently unhappy enough with the school system’s ultimate decision to remove her children from the school system and enroll them in a private Christian school.  In the end, Fayetteville schools determined they needed a procedure in place for parents to challenge material:

Parents must first read the entire book, discuss it with a teacher or librarian, and outline their concerns in a written “request for reconsideration.” If the principal cannot resolve the parent’s concerns, the complaint works its way through the district administration, and could eventually be turned over to a review committee selected by the superintendent.

I think this is fair.  One of the biggest problems I have with many parents who challenge books is that they haven’t read them, except for, of course, passages with which they have some objection.  A perfect example is a local case involving Gwinnett County Public Schools and Laura Mallory, who wanted the Harry Potter books removed from GCPS libraries.  The district decided against Mallory, who is appealing to the Georgia Department of Education.  Mallory has not read the books herself; in her defense against the charge of wanting to ban something she doesn’t really even know much about, Mallory contended:

They’re [the Harry Potter books] really very long and I have four kids. I’ve put a lot of work into what I’ve studied and read. I think it would be hypocritical for me to read all the books, honestly. I don’t agree with what’s in them. I don’t have to read an entire pornographic magazine to know it’s obscene.

I’m not sure what I can add to that, except to say she has proven my point.

The State of Georgia will hear Mallory’s appeal on Tuesday, October 3.

An article in today’s AJC discusses UGA‘s growing intolerance of the university’s reputation as a “party school.”

A week into the new semester, as students hit the bars as well as the books, it’s clear how tough it could be to change a social culture critics say is built around booze.

First, came articles on drinking in the campus newspaper that administrators found too glib. Then, there was a flap over coupon books given to students as they bought textbooks that included ads for alcohol specials and bail bondsmen. That was followed by national publicity about the university making another list of top party schools.

UGA has been trying to turn around its image for some time. I vaguely recall an embarrassing lawsuit brought by a student some years back over lack of academic rigor in a class that was designed for student athletes. I can’t find a reference to it online, but that’s probably because I can’t recall her name. UGA gradually increased SAT scores required for incoming freshman in an effort to attract the best and brightest. It still hasn’t successfully shed its image as a party school. The Princeton Review voted it the 12th biggest party school — 10th in hard liquor consumption and 8th in a list where “students (almost) never study.”

I remember well what it was like to go to school on the beer-drenched campus of UGA. I never have been a big drinker, and I admit to finding the alcohol culture at UGA distressing. In my Music Appreciation class, the classmate who sat next to me showed up to a morning class still drunk from the night before. He smelled absolutely awful — like a mixture of hard liquor and vomit. He was so drunk I was afraid he was going to vomit right there in the classroom or perhaps even pass out.

I lived in Reed Hall, right next to Sanford Stadium. On game days, it was awful. Folks tailgated all over the campus. After the game, the alley between Reed and the stadium was littered with the beer cups. It was an appalling lack of respect for the students who lived there, in my opinion. I don’t know why folks couldn’t be troubled to throw away their cups. The alley smelled of beer for what seemed like days afterward.

UGA is trying to curb tailgating, and I hope they are successful, but if I know UGA alumni, I imagine they’re raising hell about new restrictions on when and where they can tailgate.

In days past, the joke was that if you slowed down as you drove through Athens, they threw a diploma in your car. Nowadays, UGA must be proud of its growing reputation as a research university and Public Ivy, and I think they are taking steps to put the their party image behind them:

• Asking the media to stop calling the Georgia-Florida football game as “The World’s Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party”
• Tightened policies on game-day tailgating, including setting up family-friendly alcohol-free areas
• Approved an online alcohol awareness course
• Announced that parents will be notified of students’ drinking violations
• Begun assigning first-time violators of drinking laws to an alcohol awareness class and placing them on probation
• Announced that violators already on probation will be suspended
• Started sending violators to the county jail for booking and requiring them to post bond before being released
• Held a town hall meeting with football coach Mark Richt
• Announced plans for a new center for alcohol awareness and education

I do hope that UGA can fix their image. Overall, I enjoyed my experiences there, but I will admit that the drinking culture really did curtail my appreciation for the school at times.