Brenda Knepper has been a communications manager and creative director since 1991. Currently the Director of University Communications and Public Affairs at an urban university in Southern California, Knepper is also a versatile artist who works in a variety of media.
Brenda Knepper has been a communications manager and creative director since 1991. Currently the Director of University Communications and Public Affairs at an urban university in Southern California, Brenda is responsible for its institutional image, the development of internal and external communications, media relations and public affairs.
She has served as an administrator and marketing manager at several universities and has experience developing comprehensive branding programs for higher education institutions, non-profits and small businesses. An experienced writer, Brenda has expertise in both traditional and electronic media. From news releases and articles to developing content for websites, Brenda Knepper has the creativity and experience to get just the right message across.
Brenda has also been responsible for the strategic design of institutional internet and intranet sites and has provided creative direction for many award-winning communications and marketing programs. In addition to her work experience, Knepper has a B.A. in Humanities and an M.A. in Arts and Humanities. Brenda has conducted training sessions for administrators, faculty and staff at universities and non-profit agencies on topics including branding, web design, creative and communications strategy. Clearly, Brenda Knepper has the expertise to help move your organization to the next level.
Specialties
branding and identity, marketing and communications, creative direction and design, media relations and public affairs, education administration
Honors and Awards
2007 CASE International “Circle of Excellence” Silver Medal
“How to Get to College” poster and website
Council for Advancement and Support of Education
2006, 2003 CASE District VII Awards of Excellence
CalStateTEACH branding program Gold Medal
“How to Get to College” poster with illustrated map of campuses Silver Medal
2003 CASE International “Circle of Excellence” Silver Medal
Student Recruitment Materials
2000, 1999, 1998 UCEA Excellence in Marketing and Publications Gold Awards
Campaign, Publications; Special Events
University Continuing Education Association
The message below about Proposition 8 (on the November ‘08 ballot in California), has been sent out widely by Brenda Star Adams, who lives in San Francisco. Brenda is my goddaughter and namesake, and the daughter of Chris and Fran. I’m very proud of this young woman and I hope that her story touches you as it did me.
– Brenda Knepper
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Important Message from Brenda Star Adams
My name is Brenda and I am the daughter of lesbian parents. I am writing this message in hopes that if there are those of you out there questioning whether or not to vote against Proposition 8, that you listen to my story and understand exactly who proposition 8 would effect.
I am 28 years old. I am an attorney working for a nonprofit organization in the bay area, helping low income tenants avoid homelessness. My husband, Matt, is also an attorney working on mostly civil rights cases. We have been married almost two years and have an adorable but emotionally challenged dog named Abe.
My parents are Fran and Chris. My biological mom is Chris, and Fran is my “second” mom. They met when I was two years old. When I was around 11 years old my parents announced they had to talk to me about something very important. They looked incredibly somber. I got very upset and yelled “Are you getting a divorce??” Which they thought was hilarious because the real news was that they decided to make their commitment official after 10 years of being together with a small ceremony. As a child, it felt like they had been married all along so it made no difference to me. I was just happy they weren’t separating! But of course their ceremony was not official, because in 1992 lesbian couples could not be married in the eyes of the law.
On July 30, 2008, however, after the California Supreme Court decided that prohibiting CIVIL marriage between a same-sex couple violates the Equal Protection Clause of our Constitution, my parents WERE officially married at City Hall. The best part about their wedding was not the service, not the flowers, not the limo. The best part was that when I got to their house to accompany them to the ceremony, they were both a nervous wreck! They had not expected to be so nervous and to feel so excited after 26 years. It was as if they had convinced themselves their entire relationship that they didn’t really need the state to recognize them as a couple, because they HAD to believe that, and as soon as it was available to them and truly happening, they realized how much it really did mean to them. They realized how long they had been waiting for the moment to commit themselves in law to each other for the rest of their lives.
L-R: Fran, Chris, Brenda in front of City Hall
The ceremony was beautiful. Simple, and beautiful, just like my parents. You may be wondering, What is it like to grow up with lesbian parents? I cannot tell you how many times I have been asked that question. My answer is always the same - totally normal, and probably much like a typical heterosexual household. Fran is the disciplinarian - without her I would be a completely spoiled brat. Chris is the pushover. I can pretty much get her to agree to anything (although I try to use restraint!) Like many mothers, Chris taught me the meaning of kindness. To not sweat the small stuff. The immense power of love over hate. Above all else, she taught me to always listen to my intuition and to follow my heart. Fran taught me the meaning of responsibility. The value of my word - that if I promise to do something, I must unquestionably do it. And of course the importance of honesty and integrity. Chris taught me through her wise words and never-ending love - she is one of those mothers like a sage on top of a hill - she always knows exactly the right thing to say just when you need to hear it the most. Fran, on the other hand, taught by example. She is beyond a doubt the most honest person I have ever known, and merely expects out of others what she expects of herself. I have spent my life with her voice in my head, and it has pushed me to constantly try to be the best person I can be. Both of my parents love me completely, and unconditionally, like most parents do. In this respect they are completely normal. But in reality they are not normal - they are exceptional. And I often wonder what I have done to deserve such amazing parents.
I know that it is hard to discern the truth amongst all the propaganda, TV ads, and emails about Proposition 8. But the truth is that the Supreme Court decision does not mean that gay marriage must be taught in schools. It does not mean that churches and synagogues and mosques must conduct gay marriages or else lose their tax exemptions. It doesn’t mean any of that - those are just tactics used to scare those of you who are unsure into believing the worst. The truth is, all the court said is that the state cannot discriminate against people like my parents who have chosen each other as life partners. I think we have all at one time or another hoped that one day we might be blessed enough to find someone to share our lives with, raise our children with, grow old together with. Some of us have dreamed since little girls of our wedding day, what dress we would wear, what our vows would say. And some of us have never wanted to get married - and that is the choice that each of us has the privilege to make. But my husband and I are no more deserving of the right to make that choice than my parents. None of us are.
All I ask is that, as you sit down and try to determine how you will vote on November 4th, you consider my family and vote NO on proposition 8. I do not know if I can bear to watch us take a step back when we have come so far forward. And I really don’t think I can bear to see my parents robbed of the happiest day of their life together.
Regardless of how you vote, thank you for taking the time to read my message. I truly appreciate it.
by Brenda Knepper
My adopted brother, David, killed himself in February after struggling for many years with alcohol addiction. Unfortunately, the anguish and despair that drives someone to such an act is compounded by isolation that often prevents others from knowing how serious the situation has become until it is too late. His mother, Sally, died a couple years ago very unexpectedly and her death took a heavy toll on the family. I wrote this essay in an attempt to find some meaning in these terrible losses.
My stepmother, Sally, once told me that she had a near-death experience during surgery when she was a young adult. During the experience, she said she hovered above her unconscious body observing what was happening below. Even though she seldom set foot in church, she believed that she had a soul and that there was something beyond this life; she believed in an afterlife. Who or what was the “her” that was doing the observing and was not located in her body?
I choose to believe that life goes on after this physical existence and that we are all moving towards reconciliation with a healing and loving God and a “peace that surpasses all understanding” – some of us slower than others, some by more direct paths, some by very wandering paths, and some by paths that may look like the wrong path.
I choose to believe that God was waiting for David with an open heart and outstretched arms, along with David’s mother, his aunt, grandparents and others who love him. I believe that there was healing waiting for David that was not possible on earth.
Megan Kanka and Polly Klass were children whose abduction and murder caused laws to be changed and organizations to come into being that have helped to prevent other children from suffering their same fate. They were seven and twelve when their lives ended and their true missions were revealed. I choose to believe that with David’s suicide, his mission in life was revealed – his life and death now dramatically serve as an example and catalyst for me and others to learn everything we can about how to stop cycles of abuse, provide support for loved ones and their families who suffer from substance addictions and depression, and prevent suicide from ever happening again in our families.
From the very night that I heard of David’s death, I have been taking a critical look at my relationship with my son. I ask myself what isn’t working, what works, where can I get additional support, and what should my role be in empowering him to lead a full and responsible and joyful life? One of David’s gifts to me is to understand more fully that how we love and support each other may be a matter of life and death.
While we are saddened that the light of David’s personality was dimmed by the battles that he and his family endured, we can hold on to the good times – when his true self came through – hopefully calling on those memories to help ease the shock, anger and sorrow of his death. David had many friends! He had the gift of an outgoing friendliness and charm that attracted lots of people to him over his lifetime. He was engaging, fun, and connected with others. He had also developed impeccable skills in the trades. I remember younger days – long days at the swimming pool in Georgia when we first met Sally and her boys. Both David and his brother, Don, were lively and bright-eyed guys; they are my adopted brothers even though we have been present in each other’s lives infrequently. I have always told people that I’m the eldest and only girl with six younger brothers.
The last time I saw David, I admired the beautiful flagstone patio that he had built at the back of the house in South Carolina and was surprised at how he instantly connected with my eight-year-old son, taking him on a long hike in the woods with the dog. I could see in David a person who might have made a good father, if he had not had to struggle with, what we can only see in hindsight, a terminal illness.
When one door closes, others open. While honoring the terrible grief that my Dad and Don have experienced with the tremendous losses of those most close to them, I hope that there is some comfort in the deepening connections and renewed relationships with the rest of the family that have resulted from these life changes. I know my other brothers feel the same as I – we are very grateful to have our Dad and Don more closely in our lives.
David left behind a note asking that his ashes be spread off the Gulf Coast of Florida where his Mom’s were spread. He signed his short note, “Love, David.” I choose to believe that David sincerely meant the very last two words that he chose to write – with everything his heart and soul had to give in those final moments. His life and love have been offered up, to learn from and to perhaps save the lives of others. Maybe David’s gift to you is different, but that is David’s gift to me.
Originally posted on Black-Eyed Pea Cake Tasters.
by Brenda Knepper
On a Halloween evening a little over a year ago, a close friend of my son’s was shot and killed in a drive-by shooting. Up until Richard’s death, I had been oblivious to how many of our young people in Long Beach were being murdered.
Did you know that the candlelight vigils honoring those who have been killed, are rituals that kids seem to know to perform, without deliberation, in order to begin to heal? I didn’t, until I went looking for my son a few nights after Richard’s death and found him and his friends sitting around a makeshift altar on the sidewalk in front of Richard’s house. They were clearly in shock, trying to process what had happened. Money that would usually have been spent on something else had been used to purchase altar candles at the 99-cent store. Was this not a plea for help? Instead of being angry with my son for not letting me know where he was, I felt compelled to drive to the 99-cent store and buy candles to join the group. Although I’m not Jewish, the term “sit shiva” came to mind, as we sat there by the sidewalk memorial honoring this young man whose life was too brief. These boys seemed to innately know what they needed to do to mark the tragic passing of their friend.
Did you know that the weekend car washes put on by teenagers around Long Beach are frequently held to raise money for funerals for friends or relatives who have been killed? I didn’t know that — until kids who knew Richard and members of his family quickly put together two car washes over the weekend following his death to raise money for his funeral and provide funds for his girlfriend who was pregnant at the time. One was held at the AutoZone parking lot on Atlantic in North Long Beach near my home. These Hispanic kids knew what needed to be done as soon as they heard the news, because they had probably been through it before. I hadn’t.
A couple weeks following Richard’s death, a car wash was held in that same AutoZone parking lot for a 24-year-old who had been found in his car in Compton, riddled with bullets. According to one of the girls that I spoke with who was helping at the car wash, the young man had fallen asleep in his car in front of a friend’s house, waiting for the friend to come home, and had been killed as he lay there sleeping. Okay, so he wasn’t killed in Long Beach, but his car wash took place in Long Beach. Close enough.Several times since then I’ve passed car washes as I drive through town and I’ve wanted to cry because, inevitably I find that it’s for a young person who is no longer with us. I had never noticed. For some reason, I thought that most car washes were put on by church groups to raise money for youth retreats. As I passed corner lots with kids busily washing cars and soliciting donations, I had never looked closely at the posters tacked to nearby telephone poles, with their photos of slain young men.
Do you think that reporters from the local newspaper always know when someone from your community has been killed and will automatically report the story? Such as when an 18-year-old from Jordan High has been killed in Wilmington by someone wearing a wolf mask on Halloween night . . . wouldn’t you think that a young man being shot in front of his younger sister who was in the back seat, and his cousin who was driving, would be a newsworthy event? I thought so. I thought that the reporters closely monitored police scanners or logs, but after weeks of there being no mention of Richard’s death in the Long Beach Press-Telegram, I finally wrote a letter to the editor, because I wanted my son and his friends to know that the adults in the city cared that their friend had died. The young people knew that they themselves cared, because they were texting each other and paying homage to Richard on their MySpace pages (R.I.P. RICHIE! Ill nVr fGet U!). Without a peep from the adult community around them.What’s a boy to do? Seek revenge? I’m sure it happens — when it seems like no one cares, or that nothing can be done.
As it turns out, no one had called the paper about Richard — it’s not that the editor didn’t want to write the story; they were just unaware of the story. I think there’s a lot of apathy in communities where drive-byes and murdered kids are a common occurrence. And unfortunately, three white girls in the Bixby Knolls neighborhood were beat up by black youths from North Long Beach that same Halloween night and you can be sure someone called the paper about that. That made headlines, even national news, for months afterwards.To their credit, the Press-Telegram did finally write about Richard several weeks after his death and they wrote a follow-up front page story when, unbelievably, Richie’s girlfriend gave birth to the first baby of the New Year in Long Beach that following January 1st.
Do you think that the reason some of our teenage drivers recline their front car seats so far back is to keep their heads out of the range of a bullet? I didn’t think that — until the bullet went through Richard’s head, causing his mother to have to make the awful decision to take him off life support two days after the shooting. He was made a vegetable upon impact, with no chance of recovery. After that, I not only worried about how vulnerable my son’s head was while he was out driving in his car, I also worried about my own head.
Have you ever thought about how the term “drive-by” waters down and minimizes what it really is? Murder or attempted murder. I mentioned this to someone recently and they said, ‘yeah — like someone was just out for a nice Sunday drive and whoops! shot your kid. They were just driving by.’ My son visited Richard in the hospital before he was taken off life support, and you can imagine that Richie was not looking or feeling too good. In fact he was in a coma, with his face swollen and bandages wrapped around his head. What happened to Richard was not merely a drive-by; it was a violent, bloody act that not only ended his life, but ripped through and devastated the lives of his friends, his family — many people, for many years to come.
His son will grow up without a father. And although he was young, Richard was really looking forward to being a Dad. And I’m really angry that, for my son, losing his friend in this manner was undeniably a defining experience in his young life. Something I would never have wished on him.
I know what you’re thinking: ‘She’s not talking about my neighborhood or my kids.’ But you’re wrong. Long Beach is our neighborhood. Our kids in Long Beach are being murdered. They are being brought up in a war zone. And we just aren’t angry enough yet to stop it. But I’m getting there.
Originally published on Black-Eyed Pea Cake Tasters.
by Brenda Knepper
Eyelash Curler
In 1973, as a freshman at George Mason, I wrote an essay for an English comp class that comes up as a topic of conversation every now and then. In it I ranted about how unfair it was that women “had” to wear makeup and girdles and pointed-toe shoes throughout their lives to keep up a certain level of attractiveness; whereas, men could allow themselves to get fat, go bald, and never feel the need to apply a speck of face powder (remember that?) to their aging skin, all the while accumulating power and wealth.
I argued that a line of cosmetics should be developed for men and that they should feel just as compelled as women to “keep up their appearances.” After all, why should women be required to work so hard to stay beautiful, while living with fat, balding, possibly disgusting, spouses? My professor seemed highly amused by the paper and read it to the class. It got some laughs and I remember being surprised, because I was serious.
At that time in my life, I was spending an hour or more each morning applying thick, black, clumpy mascara to my delicate eyelashes to make them appear longer, darker, fuller; and using all the other cosmetics that Seventeen magazine told me were necessary for a beautiful face . . . foundation, eye shadow, lipstick, gloss, blush . . . all that on a pretty-enough 18-year-old face.
I also used an eyelash curler prior to applying mascara. That’s a scary contraption. They are still on the market and haven’t changed much over the years. To use, you have to bring the curler close enough to your eye so that your eyelashes can be caught in its “mouth,” and then squeeze it closed so that two rubber-covered bars clamp down and basically bend your eyelashes upwards. You have to be careful not to get your eyelids caught in the thing, or it could really hurt. Who thinks of these things? Not only that, who thinks them up and then convinces lots of women in the world that they are necessary?
Are men ever that concerned about the hairs on the ends of their eyelids?
Each morning, I also plugged in a set of hot rollers, waited five minutes until the dot on the top of each turned red, and then wrapped clumps of my hair around those heavy, spiked, hard plastic curlers, so that Voila! my hair would be lovely for about two hours. I would then hurriedly put on an outfit that I had composed the night before and then finish off my “look” by cramming my young feet into a pair of too-small, too-high, or too-pointed shoes. I envied men who had only to wet their hair and comb it back, put on a uniform suit without much thought, and slip into shoes that fit.
Tip O'Neil
Thoughts about beauty and gender inequity came to mind a few years later, when I happened to see Tip O’Neil emerging from an arrival gate at National Airport (now Reagan National) one evening. It was the early eighties; he was Speaker of the House and I recognized him from seeing him on the news. He was walking with an entourage of colleagues, exuding power. You couldn’t help but notice him in the center of this important group of men. I took all this in and thought: my, he is HUGE . . . a really big fat man . . . and what a large, bulbous nose he had on that mug of a face — yet he has position and power.
Nancy Pelosi
I don’t recall the media making an issue of his weight, unlike poor Liz Taylor, whose ups and downs we were made well aware of. If Tip were a large woman with a big nose, his political career would have been quite a different story, wouldn’t it? Or no story at all. Twenty-some years later, the first female Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, illustrates my point. You have to admit she looks like a cute Barbie doll . . . petite, well-dressed, with impeccable hair and make-up. Just the type of woman we want to look at when Congress is in session.
I say three cheers for former Attorney General Janet Reno; I’d like to see more like her.
A few years ago I was up past midnight reading, with the TV turned on in the background. At one point, I glanced up at a program that featured Priscilla Presley and other celebrities. These women were sitting around chatting with each other and exclaiming about a wonderful product they had discovered — miraculous hair extensions that turned limp hair with no body, into gorgeous, fluffy, sexy and majestic manes. One after another, the infomercial showed “before” shots of the actresses with lifeless, bland hair and then incredibly beautiful “after” clips. Not only did their hair look beautiful, after applying these wonderful, easy as 1-2-3 hair extensions, the women found they were more confident and energetic, more prosperous and successful.
As I watched one story after another, I realized that this too, was my problem: thin hair.
No wonder I was feeling low and unloved, with my career stalling and an angry adolescent at home — I had thin hair. It was getting late, so I quickly wrote down the 800 number so that I could order the extensions first thing in the morning. And if I ordered quickly, I would get a free brush or extra extensions or something! It was going to be a new day!
The next morning I got up, took a shower and started getting dressed; I seemed to have forgotten about the miracle extensions I needed to order. When my eye caught the scrap of paper with the 800 number laying on the coffee table, I slowly remembered how I had gone to bed thinking that thicker hair was surely going to change my life . . . and yet . . . this morning . . . I began to have second thoughts. And the more I thought about, the more I realized that I must have been out of my mind.
Yes, actually I was. Did I really think that I was going to be able to glue or tape locks of hair all over my head, fluff it out, and then feel better about myself? Yeah, right. You know where those hair extensions would end up very quickly — in the Halloween box out in the garage.
That’s almost as crazy as the rising plastic surgery trends due to “makeover” reality shows.
Think about this: we think the practice of Chinese foot binding was bizarre — what could be more barbaric than having someone slice open your chest, insert round “perky” gel bags into your mammary glands, and then sew it back up? Perhaps having someone slice the backs of your thighs open and suck out the fat in them with a vacuum cleaner.
I realize now that the thesis of the college paper I wrote when I was younger, was incorrect. We do not need to have men wear make-up or toupees, or squeeze themselves into tight corsets or the latest body stockings the way that women do. We do not need for men to adopt the insecurity and self-hatred that drives women to slice and dice their bodies, attempting to freeze-capture fleeting youth and beauty.
My grandmother is in her nineties. I love the way her age and her life’s history are written on her face and body. She was a very beautiful young woman in the 1920s and 30s, without makeup. And now she’s 95. Her cheeks sag and there are lines around her mouth. She laughs and will show you how, if you pinch the skin on the back of her hand and lift it up - it will stay there for quite awhile because the elasticity is gone. Her white hair still curls the way mine does naturally without hot rollers and the blue eyes that I also inherited shine in a way that lights up her face.
She is slowing down a little, finally, but is still healthy. When you sit down to have a conversation with her, she is totally present. I called her recently and she said she had been sitting on her front porch, watching a squirrel carry a heavy ear of corn partly up a tree, drop it, and try again — over and over. She is easily amused.
As often as possible, I remind myself to aspire only to the health, beauty and contentment of my grandmother.
Originally published on Black-Eyed Pea Cake Tasters.
by Brenda Knepper
One of these days, I’m going to go over and introduce myself to my new neighbors.
A few months ago, the woman who lived next door to me was killed in a drive-by shooting. I had often seen her sitting out on her front porch smoking cigarettes for the year or so that she and her three children had lived in the house next to mine. She was a young, pretty African American woman with very well-behaved kids — two boys and a girl, all under 10. She had a boyfriend who was there some of the time. The boyfriend was very outgoing and usually had a big smile on his face. He chatted with me a few times — he was a driver for a towing company in Compton and I had once told him the only tow truck story I have in my repertoire. She was quieter than he was, but would usually give me a little wave whenever I pulled into my driveway.
The family was a welcome change from the psychotic weirdo and his perpetually angry girlfriend who had lived in the house previously. This other guy stalked the young neighborhood boys — slowly driving along side of them in his car as they rode their scooters down the sidewalk, glaring at them and cursing them. What the hell?? I saw him do this on a couple occasions and took to calling the police regularly to report this and other threatening behavior he exhibited, such as pacing in his front yard, swinging numchucks over his head on any given day. He seemed to want all the neighbors to know that we had better not mess with him. Why would we want to?
His mad-faced girlfriend would occasionally come out and fanatically spray, what I think must have been pet repellent, around the bushes in front of the house whenever a stray or our little cat, Sassy, wandered into their yard. Sassy didn’t know any better — the neighbors before them had put food out for her. They LIKED her to come over.
When these two whackos finally moved out, many of us on the block were very happy. And relieved.
After a year of truly enjoying the new family with the friendly-enough adults and polite children, a few months ago I was shocked and saddened to hear that the young mother had been killed by a bullet from a passing car as she was coming out of a local mini-mart. Hit in the chest and died at the hospital a few hours later.
Within a week and a half after her murder, the house was empty again. Her poor, bereft children went to live with their poor, bereft grandparents. I have a picture, permanently etched in my mind now, of their young mom sitting on the porch, never growing any older.
I wish I had taken the time to walk across the yard and say hello. I didn’t know her well, but God I miss her.
Originally posted on Black-Eyed Pea Cake Tasters.
The following is a list of resource materials that I’ve used for parenting and understanding my ADD/ADHD son. They are useful for parents and teachers dealing with children with behavior challenges. –Brenda Knepper
Armstrong, Thomas, Ph.D. In Their Own Way. Los Angeles: Jeremy P. Tarcher, Inc., 1987.
Armstrong shows how children are individuals with distinct personal learning styles, such as linguistic, spatial, kinesthetic, musical and interpersonal, and how to recognize these styles to help them achieve in school.
Barkley, Russell A. Defiant Children. New York: The Guilford Press, 1987.
This is a 10-session training program for parents of behavior problem children. The manual and accompanying workbook teaches parental management skills.
Bradley, Michael J. Yes, Your Teen is Crazy! Gig Harbor, Wisconsin: Harbor Press, 2002.
A guide for parents for raising teenagers with wisdom and problem-solving strategies. Also covers changes in brain chemistry that occur during puberty and an adolescent’s development, that can impact behavior.
Dehorty, William J., Ph.D. Take Back Your Kids. Notre Dame, Indiana: Sorin Books, 2000.
Guide for parents in raising well-adjusted, productive kids. Covers setting limits and resisting children and adult peer cultures.
Ekman, Paul, Ph.D. Why Kids Lie. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1989.
This book helps parents to understand their child’s truths and falsehoods, the motivations for lying and how to encourage truthfulness.
Fowler, Mary Cahill. Maybe You Know My Kid. New York: Birch Lane Press, 1990.
A parent’s guide to understanding and helping a child with ADHD. Cahill tells her personal story, as well as giving information on diagnosis, management and classroom intervention.
Goldberg, Ronald, M.D. Sit Down and Pay Attention! Washington, D.C.: The PIA Press, 1991.
Dr. Goldberg explains common misperceptions about ADD and offers practical advice on diagnosis and treatment. Covers ADD from childhood into adulthood.
Good, E. Perry. Helping Kids Help Themselves. Chapel Hill, N.C.: New View Publications, 1994.
Good explains how coercion, blaming and threatening does not help young people and may cause additional problems, and offers advice on helping them become responsible and independent.
Greene, Ross W., Ph.D. The Explosive Child. New York: HarperCollins, 1998.
Important and enlightening book that illustrates the struggles of inflexible-explosive children and how to understand and manage them with compassion.
Hayden, Torey. The Tiger’s Child. New York: HarperCollins, 1995.
Story of a special-education teacher’s relationship with an abandoned, abused girl who was “locked in a prison of rage and silence.” One of several chronicles of Hayden’s inspirational dedication to children with mental and emotional disorders.
Eisenrich, Jim. Children with Tourette Syndrome. Rockville, Maryland: Woodbine House, 1992.
Handbook for parents of kids with Tourette Syndrome. Offers understanding of the symptoms and treatment of TS and strategies to help TS children. Also includes information on related disorders such as ADD and OCD.
Hallowell, Edward M., M.D. and Ratey, John J., M.D. Driven to Distraction. New York: Pantheon Books, 1994.
Resource on ADD that covers education, family perspectives, subtypes of ADD and ADHD. Covers ADD in children and adults, and offers insight into the impact of ADD on relationships and families.
Hughes, Susan. Ryan. Duarte, California: Hope Press, 1990.
Susan Hughes’ story of her hyperactive TS/ADHD child. Tells of her struggles to understand his unusual behaviors and to get a correct diagnosis and help for her son.
Palladino, Lucy Jo, Ph.D. The Edison Trait. New York: Random House, 1997.
Raising a child who is nonconforming, while preserving his or her spirit. Guide to nurturing gifted and creative children.
Schwartz, Jeffrey, M.D. Brain Lock. New York: HarperCollins, 1996.
Schwartz’s book offers understanding of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), its symptoms and treatment, and self-management.
Tobia, Cynthia Ulrich. Every Child Can Succeed. Colorado Springs, Colorado: Focus on the Family Publishing, 1996.
Tobias covers childrens’ unique learning styles with humor and how to work with the different types of children to build on their strengths.
Weisberg, Lynne W., M.D., Ph.D. and Greenberg, Rosalie, M.D. When Acting Out Isn’t Acting. Washington, D.C.: The PIA Press, 1989.
The book offers guidance on understanding child and adolescent anger and behavior disorders.
Reprinted with permission from CSU Dominguez Hills
Dateline Dominguez Hills
1/30/2007, www.csudh.edu
by Joanie Harmon-Whetmore
When Brenda Knepper was researching the history of the Protestant Reformation for a humanities course, she found out that an ancestor, Wilhelm Knepper, who arrived in the American colonies in 1729, had been imprisoned for four years in Germany for embracing a radical pietist faith, at a time when only the Lutheran, Reformed, and Catholic churches were recognized by the government. A member of a Gregorian chant choir, she was also intrigued by the fact that Wilhelm Knepper had penned 400 hymns, many of which were published in both Germany and the colonies.
“I love to learn from history,” says Knepper, who has joined the California State University, Dominguez Hills (CSUDH) University Advancement staff as director of university and development communications.
Knepper, who is completing her master’s degree in humanities at CSUDH, recognizes the University’s mission and its history of serving an urban community in the wake of the Watts riots of 1965, as communications tools that encourage the public to take another look at the “hidden jewel” of the South Bay.
“We have students here who are first in their family to go to college, and on the other end, students who come from more affluent and educated families,” she points out. “Attracting students locally into the University is a way of raising up the whole community, and is tied to the roots of how Dominguez Hills was founded.”
Knepper and her 18-year-old son have had their own experience with the effects of a lack of direction or education in the lives of young people, when a close friend of her son’s was randomly killed in a gang-related drive-by shooting on Halloween of last year.
“This young man’s death happened around the time that I was interviewing for this job,” Knepper remembers. “The idea that education is a way to keep kids off the street, to prepare them for careers, and help them to be better equipped for life, really motivates me. I see the connections between why the University was established here, and what it provides to the community now. It’s a beacon for this area, and offers a way for people to improve the quality of their lives.”
Knepper’s extensive marketing experience in higher education includes her most recent position as creative director at the California State University (CSU) Office of the Chancellor, where she was responsible for the CSU’s institutional image and development of internal and external communications. While at the Chancellor’s Office, Knepper developed a comprehensive branding program for systemwide communications, and managed the redesign of the CSU Internet and Office of the Chancellor intranet sites. She also provided creative direction for several award-winning communications programs, including the CSU “How to Get to College” poster campaign and the CalStateTEACH branding program. Prior to her years at the Office of the Chancellor, Knepper managed the publications department at CSU Fullerton’s Extended Education and has over 20 years of experience in design and communications.
Knepper’s interdisciplinary educational experience is aligned with her approach to her new job of telling the local community and beyond about Dominguez Hills.
“Being a communicator is an interdisciplinary endeavor,” she says. “We hear stories from a variety of people about a broad range of programs or events at Dominguez Hills, however, when funneled through University Communications to various media outlets, they tell one recurring story about the rich resources at this campus.”
As a returning student, Knepper decided to pursue her master’s degree in humanities at CSUDH when she found out that the fine arts program she originally sought out at another campus was closed, and that the program here was a good fit with her undergraduate work and her broad interests. She was impressed by “the quality of the program, and its high standards. I love the small classes and the diversity of the students and faculty. A recent WASC (Western Association of Schools and Colleges) report said that Dominguez Hills was where other universities are going to need to be in terms of diversity in the next 15 or 20 years. We’re there now.”
O Lord,
remember not only
the men and women of good will
but also those of evil will.
And in remembering
the sufferings they inflicted upon us,
honor the fruits we have borne
thanks to this suffering –
our comradeship, our humility,
our compassion, our courage,
our generosity, the greatness of heart
that has grown out of all this;
and when they come to the judgment,
let all the fruits
that we have borne,
be their forgiveness…
Anonymous
(found on the body of a woman at Auschwitz)
