I've learned that teaching is hard. Not only because of the curriculum, not only because of the new tests, new rules, new measures. Not only because there are tests, tests, and more tests. But because it so often feels like an insurmountable, thankless, stressful endeavor.
The rules are always changing. The tests are always changing. And the blame for anything and everything that goes wrong usually falls squarely on our shoulders.
When WLRN put out a call last week asking Miami Beach residents if they were staying or leaving during Urban Beach Weekend, the overwhelming majority said that they would be leaving until Monday or Tuesday.
Among the most frequently cited reasons for the exodus: a recent history of violence, traffic and noise, along with the event bringing a "bad crowd" into town.
Longevity in the arts, like any field, requires constant learning. Performance labs provide this space. It’s where artists can experiment, research and refine their skills. In these labs, sometimes new ideas emerge and old ideas are fleshed out. It’s where artists—dancers, choreographers, directors, composers—innovate and hone their craft.
You could call it Latin America’s Apollo 13 moment. In October 2010, 33 miners trapped 2,300 feet below Chile’s Atacama Desert for 70 days were rescued one by one in a small steel capsule. I’ll never forget being there to witness that operation, which was watched on television by more than a billion people around the world.
On Saturday and Sunday, The LAB Miami will host the first-annual Hack for Change: Miami as part of the National Day of Civic Hacking. The event endeavors to bring together citizens in the spirit of collaboration to develop new technological solutions for some our country’s oldest problems. Or, as the national website puts it, “to do what is most quintessentially American: roll up our sleeves, get involved, and work together to improve our society.”
By Joe Eaton and David Donald and Center For Public Integrity
Aging Americans worried about their droopy upper eyelids often rely on the plastic surgeon’s scalpel to turn back the hands of time. Increasingly, Medicare is footing the bill.
Yes, Medicare. The public health insurance program for people over 65 typically does not cover cosmetic surgery, but for cases in which a patient’s sagging eyelids significantly hinder their vision, it does pay to have them lifted.
Sunrise is a special time on South Beach, but on holiday weekends, it's a magic hour.
Right around dawn, there's a brief overlap as the night owls wind down and the early birds gear up for a new day.
"It's peaceful, it's quiet. All of the chaos kind of dies down," observed Malika Everette, who woke up early on Memorial Day to take photos of the sunrise over South Beach. Everette planned to post the landscapes to Instagram before heading back home to Atlanta.
The giant African land snail has competition in the "strange and destructive little invasive species" department. A report released last month by University of Texas scientists shows that "crazy ants" are "invading the southeastern United States and Texas" -- including Florida.
Tourism has been the fuel for South Florida's economy since Henry Flagler stretched his railroad to Palm Beach in the 1890s. It remains a significant and long-term driver of the local economy to this day.
Our program starts where Henry Flagler ignited the industry, at The Breakers in Palm Beach. The Breakers CEO Paul Leone tells us his resort has never been busier, even as it gears up for the "slow season" (which isn't slow.)
South Florida has serious car culture and Memorial Day weekend is one of the best times of year to see it in its full splendor. As Urban Beach Week draws car enthusiasts from all over the country to South Beach, there’s no mistaking a local car if you know what to look for.
“I can just look at cars and tell which one is from Miami,” says Isaac Hernandez, a Miami car enthusiast and owner of Ride Kreations.
It’s family literacy night at Holmes Elementary School in Liberty City, and first grader Adam Redding is reading a poem about plants while he absentmindedly tips dirt out of a plastic cup and onto a laptop.
I can imagine my dad's excitement leaving gritty Newark behind him and hitting the highway in his old Studebaker bound for paradise . . . Miami Beach. I can see the bathing suit postcards guiding his way and hear the ocean calling his name: M-I-L-T-O-N B-R-A-N-D, come on down!