Trading florid prose for money.

Not quite on the daily blogging train just yet...lots going on this week. I have a major grant due tomorrow, and then I leave for a conference on Thursday so will blog from the road.

A few thoughts on grantwriting, which I seem to be doing at just about all of my jobs this spring:

1. Begging for money is hard work. Begging for taxpayer money is far harder work. I make more per grantwriting hour than I would standing on a streetcorner with a performance troupe and a guitar case, but one of these two is more fun. Guess which one?

2. I don't mind answering questions in the least about why our projects might match your organization's goals. This seems extremely relevant, and I am happy for the chance to build a case. However, I think any questions requiring me to state why my organization is interested in receiving funding from [name of funding organization] are meant to test my ability to generate bulls**t. Come on, say it with me: You have money. We need money. This is why we are interested in receiving your money. (If you didn't have money, we wouldn't ask you for funding!)

3. Please, after I spend 20-30 hours filling out endless forms, could your organization send me any kind of evaluation at all? ANYthing that would help me do a better job if you're not funding my application? Or is it asking too much to receive some kind of meaningful feedback? You have to realize that if your funding categories appear to include our organization, we will keep applying until you either fund us or change your guidelines. I'd love to know the truth or some part of it about the reasons we're denied. "Our new board president doesn't like theatre." "We're only funding companies we've funded before that we trust this year." "Your narrative was dry and boring, and your project sounds uninspiring." "You didn't submit all the info we needed to make a decision." See, two of these reasons get me off the hook, and the other two are really important because it means I need to do my job better.

Now, I go forth to find more adjectives.

Arts advocacy.

So I spent Friday down at the capital building in Denver, meeting with a few representatives and missing a few senators, in efforts to convince them to vote for a few bills currently wending their way through our state government's halls.

This is less about the bills or the people who met with us than about what I learned, which is that it is darn near impossible to pay any attention to your constituents in the Capitol building if you're someone who actually plays a role in creating state law. I am not a lobbying novice to the extent that I found this surprising, but it was newly disheartening.

Of the five people I contacted to set up appointments, I actually met with two of them. Of those two, I spoke to only one for longer than 30 seconds (we might have clocked in at around 4 minutes, and she was being generous with her time).

And who could blame them? They had roughly 50 bills to consider that day, including animal protection, medical marijuana regulation, land use, water use...and the list goes on. Even when they had something intelligent to say, it was in the context of a crowded hall filled with shoving people in suits all waving cards at men in green jackets and falling on representatives like pirahnas whenever they came off the floor.

Apparently opinions are formed in their offices, in off-hours, and in the off-session, not hard in a state where the legislature is only in session five months a year (January-May, unless a special session is called). Clearly, any real decisions aren't made run-time because it's loud and hot and too airless to think straight.

And the political pressure to reject any legislation offhand that requires funding is immense. It doesn't matter how low our state falls in education rankings, for example (go number 50!); since we have less than no money and everyone's trying to suggest cuts to bridge the state's looming deficit, no policy that requires funding tied to educational improvement is likely to get past a first hearing. There is no money.

I could talk until I'm blue in the face about how this sets up a chicken-and-egg scenario where we keep funding what isn't working in our schools, even though change might cost less and be more effective. Innovation requires time to explain, though, time to make a case. And in a state where the state-level politicians have very few months to create a political identity, and sharp term limits, innovation is unlikely to make the radar let alone get passed. I am unconvinced that this is a good thing for those few tasks that the government basically owns non-competitively: transportation, prisons, and public education. (There are probably others but those are the three that often receive the most attention in CO because they don't have permanent dedicated funding sources or related constitutional amendments (higher ed at least), so their fungible budgets get attacked every single year.)

Basically I'm glad I walked in with very, very low expectations. It is frustrating that even really, really good ideas cannot get the attention they deserve in that kind of everything-gets-30-seconds environment. I was born in, and have lived in, several other states where I found the state government experience more...well, relaxed? "leisurely" is incorrect, you didn't waste people's time, but it seemed more possible to be informed about the arguments for and against any particular piece of legislation.

I think there's something to be said for year-round legislature sessions, or perhaps multiple short sessions. Surely more thought should be put into good governance than sound bites can provide.

today's moment of Zen.

To-do lists are long, time is short, children are obstreperous (but so darn cute!), so I thought I'd share my favorite snarky news item of the day...apparently I am not the only one craving the sound of silence.

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-et-olympic-internet25-2010feb25,0,899294.story

And here is a toast to whomever thought of posting these on Youtube without the commentary.

In the swim.

Oh, do I wish I had pictures of this afternoon.

Miranda had her first swim lesson of the session today. Instead of trying to corral Tucker for 45 minutes while she sauntered around the splash playground with her class, I decided, well, the heck with it, and took him swimming during her lesson.

He thought the pool was made of awesome! Even though the water features were turned off during lessons he went up and down the pirate slide by himself, on his tummy forwards and backwards, about a kabillion times. And fell face forward in the water at least twelve times and just stood up and kept going. Absolutely no fear whatsoever, which was seriously inspiring both because of memories of my own swim lessons (painful) and of trying to carry Miranda into the pool at various ages and teach her to float/swim (still painful unless a pool noodle is involved).

I spend a fair amount of time these days noticing how alike, and how different, my children are. Sometimes I try to figure out if "this" is a boy/girl thing, or a birth order thing, or a personality thing...but mostly I try to figure them out in the context of themselves and consistency. If Tucker's cranky for more than ten minutes, he's probably sick or in pain. If Miranda seems moody and cries more easily than usual, she probably needs food because her blood sugar is low, or water because she's dehydrated...she seems more susceptible to those kinds of mood swings. The pool is only one more place where my children approach learning differently. Now, I need to figure out how best to encourage one to take risks and the other to look before he leaps.

The $10K dress.

So several of you have been awaiting pics from my recent escapades at the Opera Gala. Each year the opera program hosts a big fundraiser at a local hotel. A major donor who used to be a model donated several of her old gowns to the opera program, in hopes that the students would be able to wear them for performances of some sort. These included a few couture gowns including one valued at $10,000. None of the dresses fit our current students, but one of them did fit me--the $1oK one!--so I got to wear it to the ball:

Talk about feeling like a princess! I should also mention the ridiculous shoes--I ended up wearing five-inch heels to be able to keep the dress off the ground. Did I mention I was stage-managing the event? Luckily I had very little furniture to move and a lot of assistance under the circumstances! And I towered over most of the donors during the pre-Gala cocktail hour, including the chancellor and provost, which was really amusing. I was definitely looked up to.

My own borrowed plumage aside, everyone looked stunning--the male singers were in tuxes and the ladies were in evening gowns. One of our students was Miss Montana 2006 so she had a great gown collection to choose from. It was a really memorable night, and the opera program did very well so the purpose of the evening was achieved. On a side note, I am really glad I don't work in a profession where my success would be based on looking glamorous. I like sensible shoes too much. It was really fun to play princess for a night, though.