June 29, 2015
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Education Matters

PAUL Bakery Set to Open Monday

06/18/15

PAUL Bakery Set to Open Monday

The bakery chain will be the first restaurant to open at the new Lot 31 development near Bethesda Row

Posted at 09:58 AM | Permalink | Comments

Town of Chevy Chase Council Members Questioned About Their Knowledge of Secretive Write-In Campaign

06/18/15

Town of Chevy Chase Council Members Questioned About Their Knowledge of Secretive Write-In Campaign

The drama surrounding last month’s election in the small town continues

Posted at 08:57 AM | Permalink | Comments

Small Bites: Washington Post Food Critic Finds a Bethesda Restaurant He Likes

06/18/15

Small Bites: Washington Post Food Critic Finds a Bethesda Restaurant He Likes

Plus: Not Your Average Joe’s slightly delays opening; Stella Barra has new happy hour

Posted at 08:50 AM | Permalink | Comments

Trump Coming to Maryland, Brown Drinking Water, Bethesda’s ‘Other Side’

06/18/15

Trump Coming to Maryland, Brown Drinking Water, Bethesda’s ‘Other Side’

News, announcements and other helpful links for Thursday morning

Posted at 08:01 AM | Permalink | Comments

06/17/15

The Fence

Yesterday I was cutting up downed trees, backside of the farm. My old Stihl seemed out of breath and we needed a rest. So I settled among the deadwood, looked at the fence, hanging on the hill. Actually, it was more memory than fence, more like nothing stretched on damned little. But the memory’s strong. My son built it in ‘95, always doing something that needed doing. He had taken a year off, left the Big Apple to help out while I was wrestling with the ‘Big C.’ I couldn’t do much, just watched as he drilled the holes, steadied the posts as he tamped them in and told him how I appreciated it. Looked good then, galvanized box wire on treated pine posts topped with a single strand of barbed wire. The yellow posts marching up the hill with a red clay...

Posted at 04:08 PM | Permalink | Comments

06/17/15

Conversation

Part of you is always alone, you can’t help it. A good part of you is you, yourself. But again, there are people. You have to make a compromise between that aloneness and this crowd.—Naushaba Khatoon (my grandmother), December 2010 In Dhaka, Bangladesh, one is never alone. An operatic melody exists in the unremitting voices heard from sun up until late night throughout the city. Long vowels joined by soft consonants—hawking, greeting, gossiping. The recorded political tirades looped over loudspeakers and played from scooters buzzing around the city drone in angry, repetitive bass tones. There is percussion: the pounding hammers of construction, the punctuation of car horns; the sharp trill of rickshaw bells: two bursts in quick succession. Five times throughout the...

Posted at 03:43 PM | Permalink | Comments

06/17/15

Sreya V

Naming a Hindu child is an arduous task. Saints pore over eclectic books to match birth dates, timings, and stars with necessary consonants and vowels. My parents aren’t very religious, so when it came time to name me, they chose a seemingly unique name—Sreya. It was their little act of rebellion against a conservative home country. I guess that defiant nature rubbed off on me. A “Sreya” should be artistic and musical, but instead I am math-centered and tech-savvy. Sreya also means beautiful, an adjective I’m proud of calling myself even if others don’t see it. There’s so much I’m lucky to have—arms, legs, vision, senses—that it doesn’t make sense to consider myself ugly. It also means best and excellent. My teachers...

Posted at 03:39 PM | Permalink | Comments

06/17/15

A Shortened Stay

The dorm was still and dark. Lights out had been called three hours before. A waft of cool New Hampshire air rustled the leaves on the imposing red oak outside my window. I tucked my head under the sheets and stared at my cellphone screen. The sound of steady breathing assured me my roommate was asleep. Silent tears wet my face. I choked back sobs. Inner conflict and indecision overwhelmed me. Several times I picked up the phone, tapping letters on the screen. Several times I stopped, overcome by guilt and fear. Emotion won out in the end. “R u up?” Send. Despite the hour, my mom responded instantly. “Yes. Why? R u ok?” I tapped out the message that would change the course of my life. “I am having second thoughts.” Send. For two years, I...

Posted at 03:38 PM | Permalink | Comments

06/17/15

Universe Person

As I was cleaning the house, I found the picture of my mom that I often looked at as a child. It is an old picture of her, back when she was still in school. Her hair is in two pigtail braids and she is laughing at the sky with her head all the way back and her eyes closed. As a kid, my mom’s smile and laughter were often compared to the sun. People called her a “universe person” because she had the stars in her eyes, the sun in her smile, and the world in her hands. Her laughter was contagious and her smile brightened everyone’s lives. She meant the world to her family and her family meant everything to her as well. If my mom wanted the moon, they would give her the moon plus all the stars. She was bright and happy and everything in between. That is, until,...

Posted at 03:36 PM | Permalink | Comments

06/17/15

Farewell

Sitting on a simple wooden bench in my parents’ bedroom, my eyes fixated on a wrinkled piece of manuscript paper, I think about how this will be the first concerto that I ever perform, but the last that my mother will ever hear. I think about her five-year struggle with breast cancer. I take a mammoth gulp of air, raise the clarinet to my mouth, and close my eyes. Music was her life and our connection. She played the piano and sang in several community groups. Although she began her career as a lawyer, her passion was music. She eventually turned this passion into a thriving business that taught music classes to hundreds of small children each week. In the womb, she carried me across the stage as part of the chorus in Gilbert and Sullivan’s Yeoman of the Guard. As a...

Posted at 03:35 PM | Permalink | Comments

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About This Blog

Education Matters will discuss the news and issues affecting both public and private schools in Montgomery County. We want to talk about what’s happening inside—and outside—the classroom, who’s making the grade and who isn’t.

Julie Rasicot is a former newspaper reporter and managing editor who’s been writing about education for 25 years. She’s a veteran PTA and classroom volunteer who’s the mother of two girls—an eighth-grader and a fifth-grader—attending MCPS schools. None of that seems to matter, though, when she’s struggling to help her kids with their math homework.

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