Narrow classrooms and existential/disappearing art galleries

The B112 Art Gallery that is no more

     Today at IVC, after my morning Phil 1 class, I decided to head home, but then I thought, hey, why not visit the Art Gallery in Building B100? (B112)

     SOME BACKGROUND. Recently, the Mold Monster was found lurking under that shitty temporary building that houses the bookstore in the parking lot. Apparently, if you find a Mold Monster under your building, you’ve just gotta move out and there’s no two ways about it.
     The discovery, occurring I guess right at the start of the Fall semester, inspired administration to kick a bunch of ESL courses out of their B100 rooms (they were relocated to those shitty old CEC temps) to give the bookstore a safe new home. Moving the bookstore into B100 was already in the Master Plan, but this alleged emergency moved things up a few years. (Who knows why things really happen at IVC. Nobody ever explains anything.)

     THE ART GALLERY AS VULNERABLE. Now, right from the start, some of our readers have grumpily speculated that the Art Gallery (B112), which has long been located just to the right of the B100 entrance, would also be a casualty of this latest and dubious round of facilities musical chairs. In fact, I was told by somebody who ought to know that, yep, the Art Gallery would be affected by this Mold Monster thing; it would be moved to SSC the PAC foyer.
     So, like I said, I headed over to B100 to visit the Art Gallery. I passed by that snazzy rusty humanoid sculpture out in the grass just outside the building and then headed straight to the room.
     Something didn’t seem right. I couldn’t tell what. I grabbed the door handle and, to my surprise, the door opened.

* * *

     WHAT!? NO ART GALLERY!? RG always refers to the “existential” Art Gallery. That’s because it’s virtually never open (it has weird hours, man), and when it IS open, it’s as empty as a barn.
     She’s right. You’d walk in there and there’d be a little gal sitting at the corner desk, alone, in vaguely bizarre echoey silence. There’d be some stuff on the walls I guess.
     Soon, you’d wanna escape to the sun and grass outside.
     So, anyway, I opened the door and, to my surprise, I cast my eyes upon, not an Existential Art Gallery, but a classroom. Huh?
     That’s right. There is no Art Gallery in B112. I’m sure it was there, but it ain’t there now. The room that once housed the gallery is now a classroom, and a weird one, cuz it’s seriously narrow. I kept thinking, how would you teach in here? You’d stand at one end, and the kids at the other end would yell, “we can’t hear you down here.” So you’d walk down to the other end, and then the other kids would yell, “we can’t hear you down here.” So you’d walk back. And so on.

Rust Man guarding the
Art Gallery that Is Not

     PERIPATETIC FACULTY. I walked all the way down that long room and found another door, this one opening to B100’s central hallway. I walked through it.
     Once in the hallway, I ran into a colleague who used to teach her ESL classes in rooms B101 or 102. She didn’t say so, but she obviously wasn’t too happy about the move. (Later, I spoke with RG, and she told me that some of these CEC boxes didn’t even have chairs in ‘em! I think the chairs arrived, like, yesterday.)
     She showed me what’s become of the first three rooms (on the left) as you enter B100. The doors to those rooms were locked, but we could see through the little door windows. The walls are gone, and now there’s just this huge empty room, awaiting shelving and cheap pens and textbooks.
     This big space is perfect for the bookstore, I guess.
     “Wow,” I said. "It's big."
     “I showed up to teach my class here, and they said I couldn’t go in,” she said. She looked right at me.
     I took her outside to show her the room that used to be the Art Gallery. She slowly walked inside and muttered, “How would you teach in here?”
     “I dunno,” I said.

Taking aim at the technical (vogue) term “rubric”

You should never use jargon for a general audience without first explaining it.

—OWL

     Lately, I've been carping about the ubiquitous (in academia) word "rubric." It's cringeworthy.
     Here's a slightly more developed version of my carpage:

The OED:
     I consulted the Oxford English Dictionary, which famously provides the history of words used in the English language.
     Evidently, in English, the word “rubric” was first used, circa 1400, to refer to a “direction in a liturgical book as to how a church service should be conducted…” (OED). Traditionally, these directions were written in red (the word seems to have derived from a French or Middle French word for ocher/ochre).
     That initial meaning quickly gave rise to a prominent new meaning of “rubric” as a “heading” of a section of any book—again, written in red. One hundred and fifty or so years later, the noun “rubric” referred to the heading of a statute in a legal code (the color dimension drops out). By the early 19th Century, the word was used to refer to a “descriptive heading; a designation, a category” (OED).
     Let’s call this the “heading/category” sense of the word “rubric.”
     Also knocking around in recent centuries is/was a meaning of “rubric” such that it refers to an “established custom” or prescription—this strikes me as diverging significantly from the original textual meaning.
     Let’s call this the “rule/prescription” meaning.
     Also, “rubric” was used to refer to a “calendar of saints” or the names on such a calendar, written in red.
     Evidently, by the mid-20th Century, academics (only in England?) used the term as an “explanatory or prescriptive note introducing an examination paper” (OED). This appears to be a very specialized meaning. Interestingly, it seems to derive from “rubric’s” initial meaning as a “direction,” though the color and religious dimensions are absent.

Meanwhile, back in the colonies:
     My Mac’s dictionary* defines “rubric” as a “heading on a document,” but it also cites the original meaning (see above) and two more meanings: a “statement of purpose” and a “category.”
     Merriam-Webster's account of the word starts with the word’s initial meaning: “an authoritative rule; especially: a rule for conduct of a liturgical service….” But it also lists “the title of a statute,” a “category,” a “heading,” an “established rule,” and finally “a guide listing specific criteria for grading or scoring academic papers, projects, or tests.” More on the latter meaning momentarily.

Want rubrics? I'll give yah rubrics

     My own history with the word seems to have brought me in contact with the “category” and “heading” meanings. (“Gosh, doesn’t that investigation belong under the ‘natural philosophy’ rubric?”) Until recently, I had no idea the word is associated with the color red or that it initially referred to directions (in texts, in red) concerning religious rituals. The above lexicographic info does seem to explain why one might have my particular understanding of the word.

* * *

     Nowadays, some academics insist on using the word “rubric” or “rubrics” to refer to assessment tools. They're pretty unapologetic about this peculiar conduct of theirs. No doubt, such use of the word makes them feel special, but it tends to confuse the rest of us, including many academics. It seems clear that this particular usage is new and technical (in some benighted academic circles: education?) and, insofar as it is imposed on a wider (and bewildered) audience, it is classic “jargon,” in the most negative sense of the word. Perhaps the usage derives from the 20th Century usage referred to by the OED: an “explanatory or prescriptive note introducing an examination paper.” But I doubt it. It is a long way from that meaning to the current educationist jargony meaning.

     Wikipedia has an interesting article about “Rubric (academic)”:

     In education terminology, scoring rubric means "a standard of performance for a defined population". The traditional meanings of the word Rubric stem from "a heading on a document (often written in red—from Latin, rubrica), or a direction for conducting church services". …[T]he term has long been used as medical labels for diseases and procedures. The bridge from medicine to education occurred through the construction of "Standardized Developmental Ratings." These were first defined for writing assessment in the mid-1970s and used to train raters for New York State's Regents Exam in Writing by the late 1970s….
. . .
     ...Rubric refers to decorative text or instructions in medieval documents that were penned in red ink. In modern education circles, rubrics have recently (and misleadingly) come to refer to an assessment tool. The first usage of the term in this new sense is from the mid 1990s, but scholarly articles from that time do not explain why the term was co-opted….

     I briefly investigated the history of this entry. In one of its original iterations, the article stated:

     In education jargon, the venerable word rubric has been misappropriated to mean "an assessment tool for communicating expectations of quality." Rubric actually means "a heading written or printed in red" (see main entry for rubric). We may hope that some other term will soon replace the fad for this misuse of rubric.
     In educationese, rubrics are supposed to support student self-reflection and self-assessment as well as communication between an assessor and those being assessed. In this new sense, a rubric is a set of criteria and standards typically linked to learning objectives. [Good God, my eyes are glazing over.]....

     Well, whatever.
   
The "technical terms are superior" fallacy:
     Over the years, I have often encountered a particular fallacy that is available to those who learn the technical terms of a particular field or discipline. The fallacy is committed when one supposes that one’s technical meaning of word X is somehow the true and correct meaning of that word; accordingly, one supposes that that meaning eclipses (or should eclipse) the word’s ordinary meaning (what philosophers call the meanings of “natural language”).
     Utter nonsense. In general, the meanings of words in our language do not require repair or adjustment or replacement. (Admittedly, they do require discerning and informed use.) Technical meanings arise relative to particular disciplines and their particular agendas and issues. Thus, for example, there is a very good reason for the technical term “valid” in logic, just as (no doubt) there is a very good reason for the technical term “mass”** in physics. (I'll stick to logic, which is a discipline within my field.)
     Even so, it would be absurd for logicians to advocate (to the broader community) abandoning the ordinary meaning(s) of “valid” in favor of this technical meaning. The most that can be said in favor of the latter meaning is that our language (as English speakers) would be enriched by adding yet another meaning of “valid,” namely, the logician’s technical meaning. But if we seek to continue to speak (and write) well, we need to keep those non-technical meanings in our quiver.
     It seems to me that it is exactly those fields that are least secure in their standing (in academia, or among intellectuals) that tend to produce “experts” who insist on imposing their technical meanings on the rest of the population. (SLOs, anyone?)
     Education people (or whoever you are): in English, “rubric” means “heading” or “category.” It does not mean “an assessment tool for communicating expectations of quality.”
     If you feel that everyone should adopt this particular technical meaning (shoving aside more venerable meanings), you need to make a case.
     Good luck with that.

*New Oxford American Dictionary, 2nd Edition
**An argument is valid, in the logician’s technical sense, if, upon viewing the premises as true and the conclusion as false, a contradiction arises. Physics: mass is "the quantity of matter that a body contains, as measured by its acceleration under a given force or by the force exerted on it by a gravitational field." --NOAD

Out of the fire: the union PAC comes to its senses

     As you know, in late 2010, SOCCCD trustee John Williams was up to his eyeballs in trouble with his county gig as Public Administrator/Guardian. Explaining that he had health issues, he decided to resign from the board—presumably, to concentrate on trying to save his ass downtown.
     He was replaced by the mild-mannered Mike Meldau, who turned out to be a pretty good trustee.
     Eventually, the OC board of Supes managed to get Williams out of office, though the price was a sweet deal for Orlando Boy that included an agreement not to release what must have been a damning report regarding his office at the county. Brown Boy left. Good riddance.
     By that point, Williams was the (latest) poster child for incompetent and corrupt OC government, and, ipso facto, he was a huge embarrassment for the local GOP, some of the past and present leaders of which created and maintained the cronyistic system that brought Orange Countians the likes of Sheriff Mike Carona, Treasurer Chriss Street, Public Administrator John Williams, and many other boobs, rascals, and creeps.
     But John Williams is a shameless bastard, and a guy who, despite his stupidity, does possess a range of minor crafty capacities, including his instinctive sense that he can continue to count on his utterly clueless red-countied, blue-haired constituency, even as his corruption and incompetence has become obvious to intelligent beings everywhere. When some of his long-time supporters in the SOCCCD faculty union—the union had sidled up to him for twenty years, solely owing to his support of the faculty contract (the cheap bastard was willing to tweak his “fiscal conservatism” for the sake of the chump change necessary to run a trustee campaign)—dropped by to suggest his running to regain his seat for the area 7 trustee seat, he saw his chance to complement his very comfy circumstances with a return to his old office, an undemanding job that, nonetheless, had for decades provided him with great benefits and innumerable taxpayer-paid trips to Orlando, Florida.
     He filed.
     A remnant of the corrupt union regulars who controlled the organization during the 1990s then went to work, exploiting faculty’s traditional inattention during summer. They got themselves on the union PAC and managed to get that group to recommend endorsing you-know-who.
     Then disaster struck. Meldau had no stomach for a fight. As an incumbent, he would have been a shoo-in. But it was no use: he wasn't going forward. That meant that Williams had a fighting chance to regain his seat. (For a while there, it looked like Williams would be unopposed! As it turned out, he has three competitors, at least one of whom—Tim Jemal (see)—has attracted significant endorsements.)
     Meanwhile, new union leadership recognized that it was now sitting on a potential powder keg. That crew arranged to put off the Rep Council decision whether to accept the PAC recommendation with regard to area 7 until Sept 10. That bought some time.
     (Comic relief: Supervisor-elect Todd Spitzer sued Williams for lying on his candidate statement, and the judge ruled that Williams must delete the preposterous claim that the OC Grand Jury praised his office.)
     Then (I gather), some time recently, the few sentient beings on the PAC managed to persuade one or two others of the group to vote to “unrecommend” endorsement of Williams. I have no idea how that happened, though I can imagine. In any case, it now appears that the PAC recommendation with regard to area 7 is “no endorsement.”
     Excellent.
     The meeting in which the Rep Council will decide whether to go along with the new recommendation will be at IVC, on Monday (the 10th). Stay tuned.

UPDATE (9/10): During the Sept. 10 Rep Council meeting, faculty were informed that the Ex. committee had voted to accept the PAC's last recommendation (which included no suggestion that Williams be endorsed). The FA Prez described late summer as a "roller coaster ride"—an allusion, I think, to the endorsement fiasco, which (evidently) came about owing to thebylaws, which entitle former FA Presidents to join the PAC. Some of those oldsters showed up to promote Williams. Later, of course, this was undone.

The August BOT meeting: neither live nor direct

Brandye D got excited 'bout the
IVC A400 remodel project

     [Please see Tere's "Board Meeting Highlights"]
     Normally, I attend meetings of the SOCCCD Board of Trustees, but, on Monday, something came up. Missed the meeting.
     So this afternoon, I watched “streaming video” of the meeting, although, in truth, I think I fell asleep for some of it.
     As always, the meeting started with Clerk Marcia Milchiker reading out actions taken during closed session. She reported two actions, including the rejection of a “claim” made by a classified manager. The vote was 4-0, with trustees Bill Jay, Dave Lang, and Jim Wright abstaining.
     What’s that all about? The agenda for the closed session includes this item: “Anticipated Litigation/Significant Exposure to Litigation ... Claim of Tracy Daly.” I like Tracy, but she was considered close to the Mathur regime, and so when he left (it was a Nixonian exodus) she seemed to disappear into I-know-not-what.
     Bill Jay did the invocation, which started with the words “Dear heavenly father….” I think Bill was communicating more with his worldly audience than with the Lord. It seems to me that, if you address the Lord, then you really ought to address the Lord, and not the knuckleheads in the room or out there in TV Land. Accordingly, you ought to have something to say. I wish these trustees agreed.
     Naturally, there were no public comments. It’s Orange County.
     Next came board reports. Nothing special was reported. Mike Meldau, who’s chosen to retire from the board (not wishing to compete for his seat), said he had attended a tour of the newly refurbished Student Health Center at Saddleback College, and he was pretty excited about it. So was Marcia Milchiker, who seemed to announce that, on Sept. 17, the center would provide “free flea shots.” Marcia had also attended lots of the inservice activities, though none of that seemed to take. She was plenty excited about the “35” new faculty hires. Who isn’t?
     Newbie trustee Jim Wright also attended some inservice activities, and he seemed really to like the chancellor’s opening session, held at IVC, which he pronounced “very well done.” He had visited the newly fixed up Saddleback Library, too. It looks “wonderful,” he said.
     (Recently, some Saddleback faculty told me that the continuing disruptions caused by the library remodel were intolerable—scandalously so. They seemed especially snarky about a certain administrator.)
     Student trustee Park had lots to say. She’s been busy making appearances, I guess.

Wry non-remarks 'bout
Padbergian snubbage

     Board President Nancy Padberg then moved on to other business, but Dave Lang then noted that, once again, she had skipped over the goshdarned Chancellor’s report. Gary (Poertner, Chancellor) muttered that he could think of some wisecracks, but he'd leave 'em to himself while the cameras are rolling.
     That Gary can be pretty funny. (Sadly, his drollery was the highlight of the evening.)
     Gary reported that he appreciated seeing all the indications that folks are joining in the district’s “student completion” initiative, launched this summer. Tonight, he said, we’d hear from the two Academic Senates, and there would be many further presentations (by the senates, I think) in the coming months. With regard to this completion business, Gary once again stated that “we should be a leader in the state.”
     There were no trustee requests for reports.
     (Gary must be pleased. The current board doesn’t look for trouble, and the trustees generally proceed reasonably, and so meetings are strictly snore-worthy. How I long for the days when Steve would lecture us about “liars” and the "ADL" and Don would carp about “liberal busybodies” among librarians. And Tom’s staunch face alone could send small children and animals screaming into the night.)
     As you know, Bob "Buzzin' Bee" Cosgrove and Kathy "New Girl" Schmeidler are the presidents of our two Academic Senates. The two came up for the discussion item: “Irvine Valley College and Saddleback College: Role of the Academic Senate in Education Program Development.”
     Bob started off with a fine quip: that we'll just hire some consultants for all this work.
     After that, Bob and Kathy took turns squawkin’. In a fairly brief presentation, they laid out the academic senates’ role, starting with the verbiage in Title 5 and board policy re “delegation of authority” by the board to the senates. “We are the only ones who can develop curriculum,” said Kathy, with profoundly subtle snarkitude. She and Bob went on to explain how much faculty do beyond their teaching, what with committee work and program development and SLOs and whatnot. I think these two were softening up the trustees for future contract negotiations.
     After that, some sharpie—from Smith Barney—got up to discuss the health of the “retiree trust fund.” Not much has happened to the market in recent years, he joked. In fact, of course, buttloads have happened, including the Crash of 2008, but, despite it all, the fund has performed nearly 5% per year(?) since 2008.

Smith Barney sharpie

     Barney Boy yammered about Greece and the EU and all the wackiness of Europe. It’s hard to say what will happen next, he said. And so, as our investment consultant, he’s trying to keep a “balanced approach.”
     Nancy seemed pleased. “Sounds like you’re doing a pretty good job,” she non-joked. When Nancy said “sounds,” she meant “sounds.”
     The trustees discussed that big-assed golf driving range down at Saddleback. Apparently, geezers aren’t using it nearly as much as they once did, and so some kind of management adjustment has to be made.
     At one point, the board discussed the new Bio building project up at Irvine Valley College. Back in December (I think), the contractor went belly-up, but then that “surety” business kicked in—you know, the insurance for such emergencies. Brandye D did most of the ‘splainin’. The upshot seems to be that 3 or 4 new contractors are competing to take over the job, and that process should be settled within a couple of weeks. As a result of the delay, we are down maybe a million bucks, but I think she said we might be able to recover 40% of that.
     In response to one of Lang’s zingers, for some reason, Brandye got all excited—“It’s so exciting!” she said—and mentioned moving forward soon with the A400 remodel project at IVC.
     I think maybe Brandye is aware that some of the natives are restless over at IVC. And though no one appreciates Brandye's squeally enthusiasms more than I do, I think she underoverestimates their power to soothe the savage breast.
     While we’re on the subject (of breasts? savages? construction?), my dean always insists that, if it weren’t for VPI Craig J, H&L (my school) would never have gotten this building.
     Just sayin’.
     Next came the two student government kids with their budgets. The IVC kid gave a very brief report. Lang zeroed in on some requested allocation for $3k that produced an allocation of $13k. What’s that all about? I think the kid said that the “bookstore repair” was an unexpected expense. Oh.
     Not sure, but maybe that’s a reference to the recent discovery of the Mold Monster under that shitty old temporary that houses the bookstore. That discovery led to a decision to move the bookstore into B100, displacing various classes (ESL and whatnot). Those classes ended up in shitty temporaries.
     (To hear IVC administrators tell it, the story goes like this: Nixon/Agnew joined their bookstore colleagues in a routine inspection of the building, and then, surprise surprise, mold was discovered! Who'd've thunk?! With the cooperation of affected Schools/departments, Craig and Co. quickly moved classes out of B100 and in those CEC temporaries. Owing to this emergency, soon, the bookstore will move to B100, where it was fated to go anyway [years from now], according to the facilities master plan.
     (So, is that how it all came down? Golly, d'ya suppose there's more to the story?)

The Kathy and Bob Show: faculty do much work

     The Saddleback kid was equally brief. He yammered a bit about all the money dedicated to “student scholarships and cocurricular activities.” Lang or somebody noted that, in fact, they’re spending less this year than last year on that stuff, and so the kid explained that, yeah, but they’re spending more than they first said they would. Oh.
     As I recall, in the past, trustees, especially the late Tom Fuentes, have been troubled by the SC student government budget starting always with a big “rollover” from the year before. Not good. (What's the point of taking all this money and hanging on to it?) So it looks like they’re trying to address that. I dunno. I sure miss old Tom. He sure could make trouble. That was his special talent.
     VC Deb Fitzsimmons gave a relatively brief presentation on the district budget, which is lots like the last budget, I guess. That’s about when I fell asleep.
     For what it’s worth, had I actually been to the meeting, I think I would have fallen asleep at exactly the same spot.

A "lack" of writing and thinking well

     At yesterday’s Academic Senate meeting, senators were at one point obliged to read a document, evidently produced by a district committee or committees, that lists “barriers” to “Mutual Respect, Cooperation and Collaboration.”
     Yes, as I understand it, the document is yet another product of our seemingly endless and largely absurd effort to address the accrediting agency’s “recommendations.” These recommendations are in fact tasks issued by the Accreds in order to address problems at our college(s) that they have identified.
     For instance, in February, in a letter, the Accreds issued three recommendations, including this one:

[We] recommend that the district provide a clear delineation of its functional responsibilities, the district level process for decision making and the role of the district in college planning and decision-making…. 

     The letter stated that, despite recent “warnings” that it is out of compliance with the relevant standards, our college (IVC) has made enough progress that it is hereby declared "accredited." Nevertheless, the college must now produce a report that demonstrates that it has “addressed” the three recommendations, including the one above.
     I call our accreditation labors absurd in part because the process is so slow and cumbersome and generally ridiculous that, at times, the Accreds’ recommendations arrive only after the problem that gave rise to the recommendations has been largely overcome. But the Accred Machine will not stop; nor will it adjust.

     Consider: there’s been much fear and distrust—and “disrespecting”—in our district, owing in large part to the ruthlessness and pettiness and connivery of former district Chancellor (and nakedly ambitious wannabe) Raghu P. Mathur. (He's presently running for Laguna Hills City Council.)
     But Mathur left the district more than two years ago!
     Nevertheless, here we are, still addressing the absence of "mutual respect” (a euphemism, really, for prevailing Mathurian realpolitik) and the fear and distrust that it long engendered in dark, dark Raghustan. (Arguably, the atmosphere of hostility and fear was caused also by the bullying realpolitik of trustees Don Wagner and the late Tom Fuentes. But they, too, are long gone. In truth, we have a much better board and chancellor now. Admittedly, there seems to be some bullying at IVC that is unrelated to the Mathurian crowd.)
     So, do we write the Accreds, advising them that their recommendations are (to a degree) inappropriate because the source of the underlying problem is now gone?
     No, we do not. (Or we do, but this gets us absolutely nowhere.) Instead, like the Queen Mary or maybe the Titanic, we uselessly set about to turn the whole goddam operation around in mid-ocean. It’s a mammoth undertaking, and it is pretty dishonest; plus its pointless. But we are bound to do it anyway.
     Absurd.

     Back to yesterday’s Academic Senate meeting:
     In the course of addressing the Accreds' recommendations, a group (or groups) within the district have arrived at a list of five "barriers" (do these people realize that this is a metaphor?) to "mutual-respect" and "cooperation." Here they are:

Barrier 1: Unhealthy competition within and between IVC, Saddleback, and District Services.
Barrier 2: Lack of utilizing data and metrics for decision-making.
Barrier 3: Circumvention and lack of established policies, procedures, and protocols.
Barrier 4: Lack of district-wide perspective and mutual understanding and acceptance of the roles of each college and district services.
Barrier 5: Lack of district policy encouraging civility, respect, and collegial behavior

     Now, I won’t launch into a critique of the entire list, although someone really should do that.
     Nope, I want to focus on “barrier” #2 in particular. I don't really have a problem with 2, but I do have a problem with how it's expressed.
     Let’s read it again:

Lack of utilizing data and metrics for decision-making.

     Lack of utilizing data? Really?
     Suppose a man stands on railroad tracks and is fatally run down by a train. How should we describe this? Was there a “lack” of getting out of the train’s way?
     And what’s with the word “utilizing”? People who go to college learn to avoid “utilize” when “use” is adequate. Students are advised that, though there may be special situations in which the word “utilize” is appropriate, unnecessarily opting for “utilize” is pretentious. It is the writing of someone who is trying hard to sound important. (See this and this and this)
     Could it be that the crew who arrived at “barrier” #2 missed out on this familiar advice?
     If so, what are they doing in positions of authority at a college?
     “Metrics” is another word that is over-used by people who have little to say but who want to sound impressive nonetheless. The word refers to measurement or the results of measurement. And so “data and metrics” refers to—data. (See Economist style guide. See also here and here.)
     OK, let me give this thing a shot. What might the authors of "barrier 2" really be trying to say? How about:

[One impediment to mutual respect and cooperation in the district is the] failure to make decisions based on available information.

     Well, yeah.

Rebel Girl's Poetry Corner: "I am the horizon you ride towards, the thing you can never lasso"

Backdrop addresses cowboy

~ Margaret Atwood

Starspangled cowboy
sauntering out of the almost-
silly West, on your face
a porcelain grin,
tugging a papier-mâché cactus
on wheels behind you with a string,

you are innocent as a bathtub
full of bullets.

Your righteous eyes, your laconic
trigger-fingers
people the streets with villains:
as you move, the air in front of you
blossoms with targets

and you leave behind you a heroic
trail of desolation:
beer bottles
slaughtered by the side
of the road, bird-
skulls bleaching in the sunset.

I ought to be watching
from behind a cliff or a cardboard storefront
when the shooting starts, hands clasped
in admiration,
but I am elsewhere.

Then what about me

what about the I
confronting you on that border,
you are always trying to cross?

I am the horizon
you ride towards, the thing you can never lasso

I am also what surrounds you:
my brain
scattered with your
tincans, bones, empty shells,
the litter of your invasions.

I am the space you desecrate
as you pass through.

*

Landmark community college bill heads to governor (EdSource)

     One day after a survey warned that budget cuts have caused an unprecedented drop in enrollment at California’s community colleges, the state Legislature overwhelmingly passed a bill that could bring the first significant reforms in more than a decade to community colleges.
     The Student Success Act of 2012, by Democratic Senators Alan Lowenthal of Long Beach and Carol Liu of La Cañada Flintridge, received nearly unanimous bipartisan support. It would give new students more support early on, including orientation and better academic counseling, in an effort to improve dismal graduation rates. Only about a third of community college students earn an associate degree or a certificate, or transfer to a four-year college within six years.
     “While many students are getting out of the starting blocks at our community colleges, many fail to get across the finish line,” said Lowenthal in a written statement following Thursday’s vote. “This situation is unacceptable by any measure and demands immediate change.”
     The bill stems from the work of the Student Success Task Force, a panel established by the Legislature that developed 22 recommendations aimed at improving completion rates for students through a combination of financial and academic incentives, as well as reprioritizing resources….