Aaaahhhhh... (as in a sigh of relief)

as in, raise a few Heinekens to salute and commemorate my first (successful, if I do say so myself) substitute teaching assignment (or to use the preferred parlance: "guest teacher")...

No Child Left Behind? All I was worried about was no child left out on the playground, no child hiding under a desk, no child locked in the classroom for the weekend when I locked the door...

I must have had the deer-in-the-headlights look, since the teacher explained the lesson step by step, slowly and with small words, and then covered the textbook, her desk, and my tie in friendly reminder post-it notes. When she started sticking notes to each kids' forehead, I had to reassure and boot her out the door...

oops, gotta Lego emergency* -- to be cont'd

so anyway... the day went well. I choked a little when she told me after the math lesson I was teaching Sign Language, but luckily that consisted of popping in a video (and yes, she went over the incredible complex operation of this new-fangled contraption called a dee-vee-dee player step... by step... by step...). I wasn't sure if I was supposed to turn all the lights out on a room full of 7 year olds, but they were quiet and I'd just started to relax when they all instantaneously burst into song with the deaf kids in the show-- good thing my "holy *%#@&!!" was drownded out by the squeaky voice choir. Next came the clean-up song, chairs up, and they were out the door!

*y'know, when you can't find that one little piece to complete the Temple of the Crystal Skull, or something like that, so a complete all-out full-scale end-of-the-world melt-down is in order until Dad finds the brick stuck to the back of your sweaty, grimey little leg? Yeah, that kind.

poor bambi...

This is funny and scary: President Sara Palin ...

some things you should click on more than once, i.e. the door, then double-check to make sure you're registered to Vote!

It's been a good summer -- nothing dramatic or exciting, no travel and no visitors... a time to recharge the batteries before the hustle and bustle of fall begins:

1 High Schooler (cell phones and social life + grades do count!), 1 Middle Schooler (dances and French girls + sex education!), and 1 2nd grader (still the baby, but when did he get so tall?!?)

Grad School, How to be a Teacher 101 (5 hours a night, twice a week?) and attempting to be a substitute teacher -- I know, I know, you're supposed to do the learning part efore trying it in the real world, but I (and numerous credit departments) am impatient -- and now all those catch-phrases I spouted off as Boss/Dad come back to haunt me ("learn by doing" "no whinin', keep tryin'" "what doesn't kill you...")

football practice, better known as how to drive yourself insane by teaching 6-yr olds a fake reverse (and keep their mouthpieces in their own mouths at the same time)

The Wife + the new TV season, as she attempts to maintain "our" time after all else is done and in bed (I can't even escape by checking the Padres' score upstairs, since it's a pretty safe bet their losing. again.)

and Christmas is right around the corner...

Reading List

Legerdemain by James J. Heaphey (2008)

"Legerdemain" (not a word that rolls easily off the tongue...) means sleight of hand, a display of clever skill for deceitful purposes.

Cold War/Middle East military historical memoir... a recollection of espionage activity and political turmoil in post-WWII Morocco -- wasn't sure I would like this at first, not much of a modern history/warfare fan, but there was enough history (Nazis, Anwar Sadat) and it certainly relates well to the muddle of the Middle East (including Western involvement) today, and it's done in a fast-paced style that kept me involved. Some romance, some moral ambiguity, some violence, a little danger and drama, a good read.

A mark of a good book in my eyes is leaving me wanting to get more information about the subject and situation, and "Legerdemain" has piqued my curiosity in regards to Morocco, North Africa during WWII, and the more modern history of Egypt.

America America

America America

by Ethan Canin

Small town New York boy becomes involved with a wealthy family (with 2 daughters!) and presidential politics (cover ups, Nixon!) and deals with his changing family and personal life...

Some books I can pick up and read at anytime or anywhere, such as waiting for The Wife to run errands or in between switching loads of laundry -- in contrast, America America demanded and deserved my undivided attention, not for its complexity or density but because it is the type of story that draws the reader in and sweeps away the outside world as you read. It is a book for a quiet place, a chair and a drink, and the time to meet and learn about and be involved with the characters as their story, their life, unfolds. I found this a beautifully written story, with touching familial relationships, intriguing personalities -- some of which I wanted explored further, but I also appreciate the author's dedication to his primary storyline -- and an emotional twist that literally made me pause and look away from the page for a few minutes... It is also a book that leads to further reading (or recollecting, depending on your age) regarding the political landscape circa 1970-72.

Highly recommended.

Thank you!

(imagine a sentimental over-emoted sappy ballad, Celine Dion or Air Supply maybe, playing softly in the background...)


Now that classes are over it's time to catch my breath*, unwind a little, and look back on the past several years and appreciate those that made it all possible, to give thanks and credit where it is truely due...

There is especially one who deserves the utmost recognition and special attention, who was my rock, my right hand, my support and my strength; I absolutely would not have made it through the late nights and the hectic mornings, or handled the hectic last minute panics without her...

Yesterday, she received some long overdue one-on-one time, an afternoon devoted solely to her needs and desires, to showering her with the care and affection she deserves... I spent a long time attending to cracks and curves like I hadn't done it far too long, and then while I thought I might rub her raw, she had a sparkle and shine that reflected my affection and appreciation...

After I finished, tired yet satisfied, I was just as proud of her as I know she is of me...

I love you, Krupsie, thank you for being there for me...


*I know, I know -- it's actually time to GET A JOB but one cannot blindly wildly rush into these things... I'm not sure I'm ready, I mean what if I've forgotten how to shave? Tie a tie? Who knows if I even have pants that fit my fat lazy ass?

School's Out!

(I need a little Alice Cooper singalong right about now...)


I think I'm a fraction taller today,
walking with a bit more purpose in my stride,
might even be, if it's possible, just a little bit better looking...

I know I'm smarter.
I know what's happened, and why to whom and when,
I am now aware of how everything works,
and why it doesn't when it doesn't,
or if it can't, or just won't.

I can read faster and smarter,
I can undangle participles and label particles,
classify, justify, simplify, glorify, demystify,
and GoogleWikipediacutandpaste-ify...

I am new and improved, ready and willing,
capable, competent, qualified.
I can laugh louder and last; I can love longer, and last.
I am now able to check more boxes on surveys and
fill in more lines on applications --

and I have the paper to prove it:*

I am a college graduate.



*well, not technically in my hands, they have to mail it to me...

But is it Art?

No, I don't think so...

Just wanted to share my final art project, a little self-portrait I titled

"Imagination Amok: Things in the Past that probably didn't really happen versus Things in my Future that probably will never occur"

(copyright 2008 3BoysProductions, all right reserved, except of course for the images, ideas, and other creative parts that were obviously stolen borrowed from their original sources. Much thanks to ya.)


*other boy questions I've heard ad nauseam this past week include: what's a prostate? who's that girl? can I have a credit card? where's Mommy? promise me you'll never smoke again for the rest of your life.... what's a prostate again?

The Pearl

The Pearl by John Steinbeck (1947)

This is one of those books I think everyone read in High School (jr high?) but I don't remember at all... and 20+ years after reading Cannery Row (for the first of many times) and reading lots of other Steinbeck, kinda funny I never got to this one... until now!

I loved it, it made me angry, I expected bad things to happen -- but not that -- and was a little drained and quite impressed as I finished it... which is why Steinbeck is one of the greats, and I'll force my children to read him and love him and take my picture next to the "Steinbeck was here" signs every time we visit Monterey...

art as authority

this is the guy (the one getting inked as part of his art show) who teaches us how to do the art classes for the boys' school...

http://artasauthority.com/

I haven't really checked out the site yet, so I take no responsibility... there is a nice article on him in Sunday's U-T though...

update:

I am honored to have a celebrity visit my blog, and a comment from the artist himself, Kevin Freitas:

"The blog, artasauthority.com is user friendly and user safe and covers a lot of what's going on in the arts in SD. I welcome everyone to check it out and leave a comment, if they so desire. The exhibit downtown at Simayspace Gallery that I organized and curated (and where I was inked), is within the confines of the Art Academy of San Diego, and is open until April 25th. Please visit. Thanks!"

So go. Get some culture in your life.

similes and metaphors

Hmmmm...

"Purportedly, every year, English teachers from across the country submit their collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year's winners:

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease .

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are known to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for awhile.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up."

Literature-Map

this is cool -- put in an author you like* and it will show you others close in style you might like...

http://www.literature-map.com/

I would never have connected Emily Dickinson and Fannie Flagg with Michael Chabon, but it seems worth investigating...


*or dis-like, if you want to avoid similar authors...

I've mentioned her before, one of my favorite blog writers*, who now seems to be writing a new One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: Boobs, Injuries...
Read it upside down, of course, go down to find "Part 1: I Hate Tapioca"...



*I still crack up** over her redecorating her son's room with condoms.

**oops, shouldn't use the term "crack up"

Election Year!

I don't usually espouse my political views out loud, and while I would have voted for him 8 years ago (man, that seems like soooo long ago!), I think there is a very important question to ask before you check the box for John McCain:

If you are between the ages of 20 and 30, would you want your Great-Grandfather as President? You might not even have one, they're mostly dead by now...

If you're between 30 and 40, do you want to vote for your Grandfather? C'mon, you don't go visit him regularly, and if you do you, don't you roll your eyes a lot?

If you're 40-60, aren't you thinking of plans for taking care of Dad, looking into nice facilities with backgammon night and several varieties of jello, rather than installing him in the Oval Office?

If you're over 60 and still get to the voting booth, how many times did you lose your glasses or car keys this morning? How many times did you forget you were looking for your glasses or car keys? Would your wife trust (let alone vote for) you as the Leader of the Free World?

Parental Predicament

Question:

If I buy my 13 year old an iPod and he turns around and sells it on the playground, does that make me an accomplice in a black-market enterprise?
Does this not bode well for any future career not involving the movement of illegal goods?
Is he showing initiative in planning to upgrade, or stupidity in letting his plans slip out before he made the new purchase?
Can I trust him to walk his little brother to the park, or will he come back with a fistful of pesos?

Seriously, the dilemma I find myself on the horns of is this: who gets the money? I know it was a gift, but a) my feelings are hurt, and b) I could use that coin! And since he forgot about tax, doesn't he owe me a little extra?

I don't mind giving him the $ back after he's earned enough for the model he really wanted, but I don't want it wasted away on fritos and video games (kids these days...)

Any ideas, suggestions, helpful hints...?

The Freedom Writers

Freedom Writers Diary

... loved the movie, added the teacher Erin Gruwell to my Hero/Aspire To Be Like list, and the book makes the transformation and accomplishments of the kids even more remarkable...

so remarkable the cynic in me (always present, just at times more "vocal") started questioning the veracity of the stories... towards the end, every page seemed to have a too good to be true factor: this kid's going to Harvard, this one Columbia, this one football scholarship UCLA, this one drafted to play baseball... I don't know, I'll have to find out how much *creative* writing was involved...

"I am a teacher at heart, and there are moments in the classroom when I can hardly hold the joy."

Parker J. Palmer The Courage to Teach

Resolutions...

Happy New Year!

Ok, so not all of last year's goals were accomplished, but it's the quality, not the quantity that's important when it comes to self-improvement, right? I did add Ray Sings, Basie Swings and Blues Before Sunrise to my listening rotation. I did not get a job. I'd say the universe is quite balanced...

So for a Great '08, I resolve to:

1. Get a job. No, really. Seriously. I will graduate in May (just cash, please) and start the Teaching Credential program in September, so it's time to see if all this "Inspired" stuff can help put bacon on the table. I should be able to work as a substitute, maybe even before grad, and I actually look forward to it -- throw me in the lion's den, I'll teach 'em how to not dangle their participles...
2. Spend less time making irrelevant and sometimes asinine comments on LibraryThing, and adding 600 books a day to my "wish list"...
3. clean out and organize the storeroom...
4. ban all post-it notes from the house. There is a feral pack of them, 25-30 strong, stuck all over my desk, and I think they've eaten all my pens. Looking closely, but not too closely, I can see vague, barely decipherable markings that at one time must have been important words: Zorba, vocab, Paolo Nutini, $17.03, thermal plumes, crickets... what could it all mean?!?!? ...

Anything you would like to add to the list?

40 reasons...

"40 reasons not to spawn"

Saw this interesting article, and my first thought was:
She could only think of 40?!?!?

Sheesh, my kids give me 40 reasons before we're finished breakfast, and another 40 before I kick 'em out of the truck in front of the school... if they're lucky, it's their school... But that's why they make backpacks with pockets for maps and compasses, right?

The two lines that caught my eye:

The child is a kind of vicious dwarf, of an innate cruelty.

...maternity-leave provisions (16 weeks at full-time pay) and healthy cash payments for additional children (1,000 euros a month for each child after #2)

Ok, I don't know how much a Euro is, but it's gotta be alotta coin to be worth childbirth* -- and 4 months pay is plenty to provide the "vicious dwarf" with his/her own cable TV and a lock on the door...

You know I'm just kidding, the author is both French and wrestling with issues. So I made my own list, and realized I shouldn't count "no peace and quiet" for #'s 2, 5, 16, 21, and 32 through 39... and that most of the spots left on the list were taken by variations of either "the killer of desire/must check 12 times to make sure door is locked" and "it costs how much???" ...so I guess mine aren't that bad, and I'll keep them (the kids, not the reasons), despite being Frenched out of the 16 weeks pay...

...and, as of on cue, Son #3 just provided me with reason #41: they get in the shower wearing socks and a sweatshirt.

*I make no pretensions to knowing even the slightest idea regarding the pain of childbirth, and do not wish to be construed in any way as minimizing said pain. My hat is off, and all important parts tied tight, in respect for the anguish mothers endure to bring children into the world. But c'mon, for the right amount of zeros on the check, you'd do it all again, wouldn't you?

Yes, Virginia...

I don't remember exactly when Son #1 discovered the truth behind St. Nick, but he was cool about it -- he played the game well for his little bros, and winked at me as a co-conspirator when he mentioned all the things he wanted "Santa" to bring him, as if I wanted to reward his not exposing Mr. & Mrs. Claus as frauds...

But now #2 is 10, and should know better... but I don't think he does. He believes. He believes strongly, with a passion that I would not be surprised if it lead to a black eye for defending Santa's reputation on the playground. We've tried to test him, to see if he was just playing along this year, but he has never been a good actor/liar. We've tossed him little hints, jokes about the number of Santas at the malls or how the Claus clan spends the summer, but he has a plausible (if you factor in magic) explanation for everything.

My worry was he would be exposed as a True Believer at football practice, but that's not the type of thing you talk about in the huddle, and I was glad when the season ended with his faith, and manhood, still intact. Now with one week left of school before the Christmas -- oops, Holiday, oops, Winter Break -- I do hope one of his friends will break it to him gently... it's not something I want to have to tell him before he goes off to college or on his wedding night ("Hold up, Son, one more thing...").

update: And now the cinematographer, or more appropriately the "Punk'd" hidden cameraman, side of #2 is coming out: he is testing all the angles to best catch Santa in the act of delivering the goods... he has the batteries, the back-up batteries, the charger, the blank tape, where exactly to place the plate of cookies... which means I need to climb over the stair railing, shimmy along the back of the couch, spiderman my full-of-cookies ass down the bookshelf to "accidentally" knock the camera sideways so it films the wall. And then spend 10 minutes making sounds like a jolly old elf filling stockings and sneaking back out to his reindeer! Sheesh! I hope it's worth it, this kid better have gotten me a darn good gift...

How To Gain 20 lbs in 4 Days

Who's idea was it to put a huge feast at the start of the long holiday weekend? The Four Days of Football (yes, I know the minor celebration of Thanksgiving is in the mix too, but let's focus on what's important) is a glorious national tradition, and should culminate in the massive gorging, instead of starting 96 hours of how much can I stuff in my gut, and where is that pair of 42" waist jeans?

Thursday was the turkey, of course, accompanied by the usual stuffing, potatoes, brownies, Newcastle, pecan pie, apple pie, more Newcastle, and another brownie. or two....

Friday was Cocktail Hour at Mom's, with olives, oysters, lox, caviar, cream cheese on all of the above, shrimp, pecan pie, quiche, lamb, apple pie, truffles, shrimp, unpronounceable cheeses, and can't let those shrimp the boys left on their plates go to waste...

Saturday the Sister got married (again, and sort of) so the union must be ceremoniously recognized with a meal! Carnitas, rice, cerveza, guacamole, margaritas, and cake...

not to mention all the left overs in between, I mean it's not good for the fridge to be so packed full, is it? Just doing my part to improve energy consumption efficiency...

So today, the sad (but full of Football) end of the long weekend, begets a tough choice -- celery with my water? Or just water? Then again, meatball sandwiches would be good. And a Newcastle, with chips, and lots of cheese, and there's a piece of pie hidden in the back of the fridge, behind the SlimFast shakes, and...

...and skip the jeans, where are The Wife's maternity sweat pants?

A Milestone

I just realized, as I went to compose and post #101, that my last post, the dubious literary achievement seen below, was my 100th blog post (that doesn't count my other blogs, but it does count the insignificant wastes of "ink" like this one here, so it all evens out)... anyway, just thought you might like to know... go buy a cake, or something....

How you doin'?

Heard from a dear old friend the other day, and she wanted to know what was going on in my world... I wanted to reply with more than a quick summarizing sentence, so I started thinking about what really was happening in my life lately. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was all the same ol' boring stuff -- so I told her I'd been in jail for 18 months, and I haven't heard from her since.

Not really. But I did make up a bunch of cool stuff, involving lottery winnings, world travel, and the opportunity to direct Spiderman IV... and, surprisingly, I haven't heard from her since.

Um, no. Not even close. But the lady in front of us at Vons won an iPod, I travel the freeways daily to and from school/practice/endless errands, and the latest Spidey film is on our Netflix list....

So what is going on in my world? At the risk of sounding like one of those 6 page family update Christmas card letters, here's a rundown of the latest...

• TMW&BWITW* is still the Queen of all hair stylists (contact me for her appointment #) and still very much loves her career. Her hair is deep dark red, cut in something called an a-line bob, I think, and she is hotter than ever. She plans on having Son #1 work for her at the Salon this holiday season, which should be quite the adventure for both of them. Between the two of them, her clients won't be able to get a word in. The Wife and I just celebrated anniversary #11. She enjoys walks, shopping, the beach, dinner & a movie, and hanging out in back watching the kids play. They don't make 'em any better than her....
• #1 son is in 8th grade, attempting to achieve straight A's for the reward of a cell phone, the absolute essential object to have for high school. Pencils? Books? Don't be silly, ya gotta have the phone. Between you & me, our money is safe, but he is trying so hard. It has been interesting watching him struggle with the whole puberty/maturity thing -- at times painful (will that voice just hurry up and change?), but mostly a joy. #1 has always been a joy, even at his most exasperating. He has also discovered MySpace and heavy metal, and using his limbs as post-it notes. His hair is always in his eyes, and his hat is always on his head. He is taller than all his grandparents, and weighs as much as a St. Bernard.
• Son #2 weighs as much as straw, but he seems to have kicked his height genes into high gear this year. Our 5th grader reads The Iliad, Gulliver's Travels and Ivanhoe, knocks his week's homework out in 20 minutes, and seems to have discovered the social side of school this year. He plays Pop Warner football (Go Cougars!), lives and breathes the Chargers, and wears his jersey to bed. My tough tackler is still scared of spiders and the dark, and plans on working in our haunted house next Halloween, despite never having actually stepped foot in one. He is the goofy one, strange of face and voice, and the leader in organizing games and adventures with the kids on the block. #2 is the caretaker of Trooper and Wreck, the 4 month old bearded dragons.
• 1st grader and consummate 6 year old #3 is learning to read, en Espanol y Ingles, and after fighting it for the past year has started to discover the coolness of books. He is totally amazed that I read some of the same exact stories when I was a kid, "so long, long, long, long time ago?!?!?" People say he is beautiful, and wonder where he got it from. Thanks. He also played football, although without #2's passion for the game; the interest was in what's for snack and when is the game over? I keep telling him that when the doctor predicted 6'5" he instantly became my retirement plan, so he better start loving push-ups.... #3 makes up entire days of classroom activity, in outlandish scope and amazing detail, never once coming close to what he actually did in school each day. He also sings double-LPs worth of songs in French, despite not knowing a single word of the French language.
• Turbo is fat and lazy, and barfs on the dining room rug once a week.
• I am "semi-retired" (not really, but it sounds better than "between jobs" or "still looking") and taking care of the boys & house & grocery shopping; Mr. Mom, if you prefer. I am going to school at Azusa Pacific University and will have my BA (Human Development / English, straight A's) in May, then it's on to the teaching credential program. So by this time next year I hope to be working as an elementary school substitute (I'm leaning towards being the mean sub by printing up surprise pop quizzes and practicing a surly demeanor). I have also been tutoring some 4th graders and coached the flag football team to a perfect season (ok, so it was 0 - 8, as in perfectly horrible. But they tried hard, and seemed to really enjoy the snacks). I have been trying to cook the ultimate pot roast, keep my garden safe from cat & kids, read a lot of kid's books, and spend too much time listening and listing... I am also attempting to re-write that last sentence with a lot more testosterone -- as you read it, try picturing me watching NASCAR, scratching my hairy chest and spitting on the floor, while opening a beer with my eye socket. Remember, I coach football, my wife is gorgeous, and the only daytime tv I watch is ESPN. While I work out. With a beer in my hand.

So there you have it. Too much of it, I'm sure. I didn't even get to my sexy new sister-in-law, my sister's Grand canyon elopement, the fires, and my parents spending the night. And the next night. And the night after that. I guess I'll save all that for the next time someone asks how I've been doing (if this didn't teach 'em)....

*The Most Wonderful & Beautiful Wife in the World

Jesus and George

courtesy of http://cagle.com/


reminds me of a bumper sticker I'm looking for (let me know if you find it) --

"When Jesus said 'Love your neighbor' I'm sure he
didn't mean bomb the hell out of 'em"

...or something like that, I'm paraphrasing.

The Fish Whisperer

Maybe we'll look back on this day and realize this was the moment #2 was set on the path to his career as a... koi pond cleaner? animal rights activist? public defender? It certainly won't involve the Pro Bass Fisherman's Tour....

He was at a birthday party, swimming with some friends, when the hostess of the shindig tossed a bunch of goldfish and some paper cups into the pool -- "It's a game! Catch as many as you can!" Being 10 year olds, they dove and lunged and splashed, except for my son: instantly concerned for the health and safety of the fish, he yelled at his friends to stop playing and get the fish out of the pool quickly. After a brief argument in front of shocked adults, he went and got a cup of fresh water and his friends helped him get the fish out of the chlorine/boy-filled water. None required mouth-to-gill, and the party continued.

So... now we have a family of fish, from all appearances happy and content, in a nice bowl on the toilet bowl tank. They'll probably be belly-up in the morning, but they'll go to goldfish heaven knowing a boy with a good heart cared for them.


p.s. Said son also recommended "The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane" for TeacherDad's next book review, so I'll be checking that one out tonight....

500 years of women

Very cool, if not a bit disconcerting with the floating, morphing head and all...

how many can you recognize?


http://historyiselementary.blogspot.com/2007/08/wordless-34.html

Coach Dad

Well, my record as head coach stands at 0 - 1.

Then again, seeing as it was a pre-season game, with no officials, and I wasn't officially given the title "Head Coach" even on an interim basis, and 4 out of the other 4 coaches knew what was going on a lot more than I did... besides, it's not about winning, it's all about the kids having fun, right?

We lost. 0 and 1.

No surprise: the boys didn't listen, they didn't pay attention, they forgot what they were supposed to do. Surprise: The whole game was moving, then over, so fast I had no idea what happened and forgot what I was supposed to do. I felt as if I let the boys down by not having them better prepared. And no matter what we're supposed to say about "fun" -- I wanted them to do well, I wanted our team to win, and I want to win this week!

No surprise: they were still not paying any attention in practice today. Surprise: the number of times I'm explaining something to one player and another player walks up and hugs him, or burps or farts, or just falls down on the grass in hysterical laughter. Then we start all over. The boys are working hard though, and most of the time trying hard to play right -- my favorite question is "Did you see me Coach? Did you see me?"

Who's the patron saint for coaches of 6-year old football players?

bookshelf

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

This is one of those shake 'em by the lapels and make 'em sit right down and read it books -- don't tell me how it ends, I'll finish it tonight. After six weeks of children's books (http://teacherdadbooks.blogspot.com/) I was craving something adult, something without rhymes or magic or cats that talk. This is it: an amazing, gripping book that made me feel like I was right there, in the story freezing and starving and scared for my life. I read 1/2 of it last night and then dreamed it all over again, The Wife had to wake me up to stop my shouting (I thought I was yelling "come and get me muthaf---!" but she says it more like "uuhhyaaaauuuu!").

Anyway, go get this book and read it this weekend.

TeacherGrump

"Never smile until December."

This has been a common, and quite frankly unsettling, phrase I have heard when I discuss my plans to become a teacher. It doesn't come from the non-educators; those that do not teach often stare at me with utter horror, and say things like "Why on God's green earth would you want to be a teacher?!?!?!?" and "How can you stand to be around all those kids?" ...while also commenting on the abject poverty my family will surely be forced to live in on my paltry salary.

But I've had several teachers, new-ish ones and seasoned veterans, tell me the Don't smile rule as if it's a holy mantra, the only way of surviving the 9th level of hell that is a classroom. Gee, enjoy your job? Maybe I'm naive, but, just like any other job, doesn't the worst day go by quicker and smoother if you smile once in a while and try to have a little fun? Even if it's only to find a speck of sanity-saving humor in an absurdly disastrous and depressing day, ya gotta try to crack at least one little smile. I know, they're just emphasising the importance of discipline, of setting the rules and establishing who's in charge. But I hope that isn't the reality of a classroom, because I think no matter how nervous and unsure I am my first day, or first month, or first several years, you won't be able to stop me from smiling.