2005-12 Vital Source Mag – December 2005
Forgotten Milwaukee
By Frizell Bailey Few would argue that a quality education is critical to a child’s success in life. There is a clear correlation between educational attainment and income level. So it would seem a no-brainer that the surest way to tackle the economic disparity that exists between blacks and whites in Milwaukee would be to offer poor blacks students a quality education. However, black students in Milwaukee all too frequently fail to receive one. According to a 2004 Milwaukee Public Schools Report, 61 percent of MPS seniors graduated in 2003. Broken down by race, the study found that while 71 percent of white students graduated, only 56 percent of black students did. Why is there such a huge gap between white and black graduation rates? The easy answer would be to talk about the failures of Milwaukee Public Schools, which are, according to critics, the logical culprit. Educators, the argument goes, simply are not doing their jobs. We need more accountability. We need to rid ourselves of these no-account teachers who simply want a paycheck. Some see a solution in school choice. The Choice Is Yours.In 1990, then-Governor Tommy Thompson signed a state budget into law that included a pilot program allowing 1 percent of Milwaukee Public School students to opt out of the district in favor of private, non-sectarian schools. Then in 1995, Thompson proposed expanding the program to include religious schools. The Legislature approved the measure, making law what would become the Milwaukee Parental Choice Program (MPCP). At the heart of the issue for proponents of school choice is a free market. Just as in any other industry, the theory goes, public schools have no incentive to innovate if there is no real competition. The thinking has been that parents, given a choice, would remove their children from failing public schools and enroll them in “better” private or charter schools, given the choice. As for public schools, they would either learn to compete or go the way of the dinosaur. Either way, students would receive a better education. This rationale, of course, fails to consider one fundamental element of human nature. People will do anything for money. Who’s Minding The Store?Perhaps the biggest criticism of choice schools is that there is insufficient accountability. And there is perhaps no more glaring an example of choice school failure than Harambee Community School. Cleveland Lee, the school’s chief financial officer, was found guilty of theft and filing false income tax returns. Lee embezzled almost $750,000 from the school, using the money to buy luxury cars and remodel his home instead of educating students. Legislative leaders have tightened oversight of choice school finances in the wake of such scandals. But these new rules still do not give the Department of Public Instruction authority to oversee the educational programs of these schools, though in recent weeks DPI has sought to enforce educational standards as outlined by existing minimum school standards law. Anyone Can Teach?Within the program’s current structure, there are no qualification requirements […]
Dec 1st, 2005 by Frizell Bailey
The Brian Setzer Orchestra
By Kevin Krekling Surfdogwww.briansetzer.com It’s that time of the year again. A time for shoveling snow, mistletoe hookups, eggnog hangovers and Brian Setzer Christmas albums. The former Stray Cat is back again with his second holiday record in three years. And, what you get here with Dig That Crazy Christmas is pretty much the same as what you got with 2002’s Boogie Woogie Christmas. But we’re talking about a guy who has changed virtually nothing about his style since the early ‘80s, so what do you expect? The album is simply Setzer reworking old Christmas classics in his familiar uptempo, horn-driven, rockabilly style. But given the fact that the two newly penned originals are easily forgotten duds, and that Setzer’s voice sounds pretty rough, the album is actually quite fun. Does it stack up to A Christmas Gift For You From Phil Spector? No. But, at the same time, it’s not ‘NSYNC Home For Christmas, and that is something we can all be thankful for. So, if you’re looking for something festive, fun and tolerable to throw on this holiday season, this may be right up your alley. VS
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
Sex, Drugs, and Nudity on New Year’s Eve
The English language has yet to devise a single word to adequately describe my feelings for the holidays. The entire month of December – and that beloved, drunken evening known as New Year’s Eve in particular – has always been fraught with heartache, loss and occasional unsolicited nudity. Instead of employing pedestrian terms like “dread,” “fear,” or “sheer, unconditional panic,” the best way to illustrate my aversion for this time of year is through complicated yet familiar thoughts we’ve all experienced, like “the disgust you feel the day after an imbecilic president is re-elected,” or “that sinking feeling you get when you’re watching a sub-par episode of Charles in Charge and you realize your left leg is on fire.” To drill this home even further, I’ll share a few of my personal moments from New Year’s Eves past, presented in the always-entertaining bullet point format: 1998: I find myself lying on the floor and handcuffed to the foot of an unknown girl’s bed while another couple “sleeps” on the bed itself. I’m half-drunk, half-asleep and in a matter of minutes, half-clothed. Imagine the priceless look on my face, however, when I discover that not only am I without a condom, but that one of the people on the bed is an ex-girlfriend. Along with becoming yet another footnote in a long line of humiliating, holiday-themed sexual encounters, this will mark the first and last time I make out with a girl with a pierced tongue. Oh, one more thing: the seductive music this girl deemed fit for our anonymous New Year’s tryst? The soundtrack to Blade Runner. 2000: Out of my skull on a laundry list of illegal substances, I find myself staying at the San Francisco home of two bona fide 60s hippie burnouts. Actually, “home” really isn’t the proper term to describe the place. “Vaguely creepy, clothing-optional, secluded cabin in the mountains” is more apt. While there, I’m treated to such time-honored holiday pleasures as naked swimming, naked hiking, and something called “Goquet” (a family-invented golf/croquet hybrid that also happens to be clothing-optional). The topper? In a drug-induced haze, I slowly come to the frightening realization that a fully nude 65-year-old man is serving me turkey. 2003: On my birthday (December 28) I’m informed that not only have I been fired from my job of five years, but because of a past run-in with the law, I’m required to go back to my hometown and perform 200 hours of community service. New Year’s Eve finds me drunk and alone, contemplating the many ways one could kill oneself with a half-bottle of whiskey and a tire iron. When I finally sober up sometime in early February, I move back in with my parents and spend the next two months vacuuming floors at a nursing home, as well as assisting a few of the more catatonic residents during rousing games of bingo. I pine for Milwaukee while sleeping on the floor of my empty boyhood bedroom. …Which brings us, more […]
Dec 1st, 2005 by Matt Wild
The Darkness
By Erin Wolf Atlantic www.thedarknessrock.com When The Darkness crash-landed on the stagnant rock scene two years ago, it startled hordes of music fans into stupefied wonder, creating either strong affinity or distaste. Cheeky hair metal can produce nothing but strong feelings. For those hordes still recovering from the initial shock of their first release, Permission to Land, The Darkness bring it on back with their latest, One Way Ticket to Hell…And Back. Somewhere, Freddie Mercury is listening intently to his emulating, three-octaved vox counterpart, Justin Hawkins. Hawkins, sibling Dan, Ed Graham, and Frankie Poullain have become Britain’s most-loved (and hated) rock band for sheer bombast, guitar solos straight from the ‘80s and stage personas amplified by J. Hawkins’ elaborate cat-suit costumes. The Darkness again come clawing through the paper bag that has confined rock music for nearly a decade. One Way Ticket to Hell…And Back slams another dose of tongue-in-cheek, elaborately sung and lovingly frosted heaven down our throats. Take the medicine with a spoonful of sugar or leave it. More solos, more vocal trills, more arena-rock bliss, more flippant than ever, The Darkness’ latest is just more. Confident to the point of annoyance, The Darkness rip through tales of rock-star woe, complete with cocaine sniffing. More orchestrally polished, thanks to producer Roy Thomas Baker (who also has worked with Queen and The Who), the band experiments with piano sounds, bagpipes, sitar, Moog and enough pan flute intro to satisfy Jethro Tull. From Bryan Adams-esque ballads to the fist-pumping title-track, One Way Ticket sounds more pulled together, more ballsy, and more competent: they don’t take themselves seriously, yet they can seriously play their instruments. The Darkness return with a triumphant scissor-kick in the air. VS
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
Six Milwaukeeans’ Best (And Worst) Holiday Memories
By Evan Solochek Tom Barrett (Mayor of Milwaukee) When I was 12, I served as an altar boy on Christmas morning. My mother woke me at 4:30a.m. for 5:30a.m. mass. We met my best friend and his mother and drove to St. Sebastian. I remembered being amazed at how many people would actually get up at that time in the morning to go to mass. It was a beautiful and meaningful service. When it was over, my mother and I set out for home, my anticipation of opening my presents growing to near-urgency as we approached our house. As I raced to the door ahead of my mom, she stopped me and gave me the heartbreaking news. My younger sister still believed in Santa Claus and, to preserve her imagination, I would have to wait until she awoke to see the presents under the tree. Of course, all Christmas stories should have a happy ending and this one does too. When I finally was able to look at the presents, I saw a brand new toboggan. There was fresh snow from the day before and I spent hours with my brother and sisters riding in Washington Park. Mark Borchardt (filmmaker, American Movie star) Last Christmas the cat got stuck up in the tree. Family and friends, including my kids and Ken Keen, were gathered at the house for the yearly celebration, but this unforeseen event became the main narrative of the day. What started out as a pedestrian incident turned into a tense, day-long ordeal. A variety of initial rescue attempts proved futile as the cat only moved further up the tree. Finally, the fire department was called, but they had abolished the service and their basic philosophy was that the cat got itself up there and the cat can get itself down. So much for that. It grew colder and night was closing in. The cat would surely meet a bitter fate if a rescue was not accomplished. Though my youngest daughter Dara’s heart grew increasingly concerned, it could not be broken. I climbed up on the motor home underneath the tree and vigorously shook the main branch that the cat had sunk its claws into. Terrified, it clung for dear life, so I shook the branch even more violently. The cat determinedly stayed on it for a while but then its grip started loosening, its stamina weakening. Excited voices rose as I shook the limb even more intensely. Suddenly, the cat’s back legs gave way and swung out in the air, a ballet of madness. Gasps from the ground erupted as the front legs finally gave way and the body took a free-fall through the dead branches of the tree. The plummeting cat almost missed the blanket but caught enough to break its fall. It bounded off and raced around the house. Dara reappeared with the cat in her loving arms and Ken concluded that the rescue required some kind of a fermented beverage. Keith Tozer (Milwaukee Wave […]
Dec 1st, 2005 by Vital Archives
