Five Stages of Heat

This is my second summer in Phoenix and I’ve noticed a pattern of behavior that I don’t understand. Starting in April, the temperature, without exception, starts its slow, steady climb into the triple digits.

We laugh at people back East and the Midwest who are still digging their way out of another frigid winter. We scoff at the inevitable sun and heat. That’s why we live here…in the desert, we delusionally proclaim.

Then July comes and the temperature (like every July) climbs past 110 and we suddenly are outraged, insulted. We go through what I call the Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Summer Grief.

First, we are in denial. June was unseasonably cool this year. So by June 20th, we absolutely convinced that there was no freaking way we could see 110 degrees this summer.

Second, we get angry. This happened last week as the temps shot past 110 for more than two consecutive days. It was as if Mother Nature punked us, played us for a sucker, took us for a mark. Yes, our anger was righteously deserved, we thought. How DARE she trick us and invite the Heat Miser to stay in our town and burn everything under the sun to a crisp. Our anger was palpable.

The third stage happened on Sunday. We start bargaining with God. We sit in our house or apartment and as we wipe the dripping sweat off the back of our neck as we sit three inches from an industrial fan used in hog barns, frantically trying to get cool, trying to get God to turn down the sun. We make deals with the Almighty that are ignored and unheeded. We promise to stop nefarious habits or give copious amounts of money to a religious charity, swearing up and down that if only God would talk to Mother Nature and stop this ridiculous heat wave, we would all be better people. Bargaining never works. The sun rises in the east, roasts the Sonoran desert for about 14 hours and then sets near Tonopah around 7:30PM.

The fourth stage of our collective Summer Grief is settling in the Valley now. It’s depression. In the morning you hesitate opening the front door to the oven that is the outside. You dread getting into the car and having your back instantly turn wet with sweat as you wait for the AC in your car to move enough air around to promote a stale breeze. You have no energy; you don’t want to go to Starbucks or Taco Bell because you’ve seen birds burst into flame in mid-air and snakes sweating because it’s so hot.

And this depresses the Hades out of you. In fact, you imagine Hell is a nice place this time of year compared to the Valley of the Sun as the temperature hovers around 118 degrees during the day and doesn’t go below 100 at night.

You pray for death, but even Death doesn’t come to the Valley this time of year. That robe he wears is too heavy and that scythe he carries is just too heavy when lugging it down Van Buren in the concrete inferno.

The final stage comes late; too late for you to realize that summer and Summer Grief is almost over. It’s the most interesting stage because you don’t realize you’ve reached it until it’s too late.

It’s Acceptance.

By the time late August sluggishly arrives, you’ve adjusted to the blazing cauldron that is the Valley. You’re mind is so numb that you forget to sweat. You’ve become quasi-Saharan. You enjoy taking three showers a day just to feel mildly fresh. You have finally figured out a system to get your Starbucks, get back in the car and not look like a bad comedian on stage in the midst of being soaked in flop sweat.

And it’s around this time that September comes and the temperature only (ONLY!!!) hits 100 degrees. You feel like Prometheus finally capturing and taming fire. You regale your friends with “it wasn’t that hot” stories and how you survived a 118 day with nothing more than a pair of khaki shorts and an old ASU t-shirt, your only liquid refreshment being a warm bottle of Yoo-Hoo.

Then it hits you – summer is over. The heat wave has broken and Mother Nature has moved back north because she doesn’t like the snow birds either.

And we’ll go through the Five Stages of Summer Grief all over again next year.

Slighting Out Kids

An article in the Republic caught my attention the other day when Pat Kossan wrote, “Arizona classrooms are the third-most crowded in the nation, and they're about to get squeezed further.”

In the Republic article, it said that state administrators would have to come up with some kind of plan. Because of the economy, states slashing budgets, and stimulus money being siphoned off, your kid may be in a larger classroom.

But there is a debate among educators and academics on whether or not the size of the class is proportionate to the level of education your child receives.

Arizona has the dubious distinction of having a higher average of teacher-to-student ratios.

“Arizona had 20.2 students for each teacher in 2006-07, according to the most recent data available from the U.S. Department of Education. Only Utah at 22.1 and California at 20.9 had more. The national average was 15.5 students.”

It doesn’t matter what school system you’re in, or whether you choose to send your kid to a private or public institution. Class size does matter.

I am wrapping up my first year working with a sixth grade class here in the Valley, and although I am not a teacher, (and not receiving a degree in education) I have noticed that the less kids there are in the classroom, the more engaged they become.

About once a week I teach public speaking to these kids who, for the most part, are from another part of the world or their parents do not speak English. They are from Africa, Eastern Europe, Latin America and Russia. So to get these kids all on the same speaking page is tough.

I can’t imagine the challenge that I, let alone every teacher, face if the class size swells next year. Many times I will have to work one-on-one with these kids and when you’re focused one particular child there is a better chance for that child to learn. In my experience it also helps me to learn what the child is capable of so I can tailor my visits and help those who need a bit more time learning.

I know that budgets are being drastically cut and that people are looking for money in almost every nook and cranny of state and federal coffers. But I also know that just because you throw money at a problem, it doesn’t guarantee that the problem will be amended or quickly fixed. We have seen how government is all too ready to throw money at programs that, frankly, are just wasteful spending.

But not education.

I agree with Kossan’s assessment, “Arizona schools must find a balance among the number of teachers hired, the number of students each teacher will have, and how much each teacher will be paid.”

Just because Arizona is suffering in budget woes doesn’t mean our kids should.

Unfortunately, I don’t see our state political heroes making the sacrifices or coming with better ideas to lower the teacher-to-student ratio next year.

Swine Flu Hits PHX! Do You Care?

Yesterday, it was announced that an 8-year-old boy had been (past tense) infected with the Swine Flu. He has since recovered, but the rest of the Valley has not.

With that positive confirmation, Moon Mountain Elementary School in the Washington School District announced that the school would be closed until May 7th unless there were more children who presented signs for the virus.

One school shut down is one school too many.

I have said before that this Swine Flu panic/concern/scare/pandemic is much ado about nothing. And your elected political heroes are playing you for a fool.

The main reason given in shutting that one school down was for “containment” purposes. That kite has enough string, but I don’t think it will fly.

State School Superintendent Tom Horne announced on Monday (and Governor Jan Brewer reiterated in a press conference yesterday) that any school who has students test positive for the Swine Flu would be shut down. That’s a great CYA move.

Government is very good at pointing out problems. Government is not good at solving them.

If the government were serious, truly thinking that this Swine Flu could have demonstrably, imminently mortal consequences for Phoenix, or any other part of the country, they would announce a full-scale shutdown of our daily lives.

But that hasn’t happened and that’s why I think yesterday’s announcement was a joke.

So far, one child has tested positive for Swine Flu. But it didn’t start with him. He’s not the Alpha case. Swine Flu has been in the Valley for weeks and we are just starting to unravel the trail. But that infectious trail didn’t start with an 8-year-old boy from the north valley.

What I want to know is: where did the kid get the virus? A fair and reasonable assumption would be the child was infected with the Swine Flu from an adult. Why, if logic dictates, doesn’t the government close post offices, grocery stores and restaurants? Why don’t they encourage you to telecommute or (ironically) call in sick to your employer?

Kids aren’t the only ones who catch viruses. Anyone could be a Swine Flu carrier; anyone could infect you, the entire Phoenix Symphony Orchestra, or me. But we are told to carry on with our daily lives.

Except if your child attends Moon Mountain Elementary. Then only you should be concerned.