Last week my three-year-old daughter got hold of a sheet of small, silver star stickers (say that ten times fast). I know this not because I saw her with the stickers but because of the sudden appearance of silver stars all over the house. They showed up on each of the four screws on a double light switch cover. There is currently one nicely centered on the mouse I am using. I thought she was done.
Yesterday, midway through the last period of the day, I hear, "Uh, Mr. Chintzibobs, there's a star on your, er, backside." Indeed, neatly centered on one of my buttons was a silver star. This comes a week after a belt loop on the back of my pants popped off in the middle of the day and stuck out in a most distracting manner. It is never good when the entire class laughs every time you turn around. Remind me to tell you the story about the Arby's ketchup.
The two big kids were in timeout in their room for not cleaning up the cushions of the couch in a timely manner. They were busy blaming each other for their dilemma. I interrupted in hopes of discovering who originally removed the cushions. The five-year-old boy blamed it on the three-year-old girl. In an unexpected rhetorical turn, the three-year-old girl blamed it on momma. The boy immediately recognized the fallacy of her argument, "Why did you say that?" Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I checked with momma. When I came back with the truth, she blamed Jesus. Her brother was outraged and shouted while pointing vaguely up, "Jesus is invisible and He never does anything wrong!" She countered with a devout hand over her heart, "Jesus is in our hearts."
My wife just came down to inform me that there is a giant lady bug blocking the door to our room. That would be my five-year-old son, but that is another story for another day.
Peace
30 November 2006
27 November 2006
Monday Miscellany: A Grave Subject
The Thanksgiving break was wonderful. I spent as much of it as I could outside. The weather was (and is) just too glorious to spend the days inside. The days are sunny and warm for November. My only complaint is that the sun leaves us by 5:30.
I spent my short break time continuing my winter yard upgrades. There is a narrow strip of wilderness on the north side of our house running the length of the property line. When we moved in, the wilderness was overgrown with blackberry, honeysuckle, and some kind of weed tree. I have been slowly beating back the wild and seem to have it on the retreat. In the process I have discovered that the area was a garbage dump for the previous residents. Two winters ago I disposed of four large garbage cans full of junk including beer cans, beer bottles, beer bottle caps, broken toys, broken tools, and sundry household items. I also discovered the remains of a fort of sorts.
This year I am working to excavate the remains of the fort and pull out some rocks for a landscape project I am working on. I found 14 caps from spray paint cans but no cans. I also found some linoleum, some carpet and lots of broken glass. Under all of that was a pile of rocks. When I say pile, I mean there is, in the middle of my little strip of woods, a collection of rocks covering an area about fifteen by fifteen feet and of as of yet undetermined depth. The five-year-old boy and the three-year-old girl helped me move some of the rocks but quickly got bored. I was able to renew the boy’s interest for another fifteen minutes by having him sort the rocks by color (he will gladly sort anything by color). Then he disappeared with a large stick and played with that for an hour. The girl used her shovel and pail in the dead vegetable garden patch.
Later the boy came to me said, “Daddy, you know how when humans die they bury them in the ground?”
“Uh, yes son.”
“I found a dead tomato and buried it. Then I drew an “X” over it in the dirt.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to tell him. I commended him for his creativity and sensitivity and assured him that the tomato’s family would have some closure. That got me thinking about graves. Just the day before at my parents for Thanksgiving leftovers, I had gone out to wonder my parent’s woods (I told you I spent a lot of time outside) and found my self-looking up at a tall, slender, and very dead pine tree that my dad wanted to take down. I stood at its base trying to figure out which way it was leaning to see if it was possible to bring down safely. Something shifted under my foot, and I heard something clink like too stones hitting together. Curious, I used my foot to sweep back the thick sheet of pine needles to reveal this:
Suddenly, a memory as vivid as it was distant came back to me: a little boy laying his dead pet hamster, Ivan III, to eternal rest at the foot of a young pine tree. The scent of the rotting vegetation, the sight of the black, root-bound soil, and the feel of the cold of the rich earth was so strong that I could see myself laying my pet in a small box underneath two red bricks. Years later, the tree that served as marker for Ivan’s grave has died. Even our graves die.
These thoughts went through my mind as I stood on a large pile of stones in the woods. What brought these stones here? Clearly, they were put there purposely by man. Could these stones be an Indian monument, a relic from the Civil War, or a grave?
We played soccer the rest of the afternoon.
Other Miscellany:
While at my parents, we broke out their new faux Christmas tree and decorated it. My daughter is very excited about Christmas this year and has no conception of time and she keeps asking if is Christmas. After three hours of tree decorating, it was time to go home. She was very upset to find out that we weren't taking the tree with us.
I was disappointed to hear about Kramer's offensive outburst but not terribly surprised. The offensive word he choose to employ has become ubiquitous in the current pop culture. Comics, rappers, and movies have made the word commonplace in an entertainment setting. My students (99% white) are growing up hearing the word continuously in daily use, and we should not be surprised to hear the word flowing out of the mouths of our children.
In my ten years of teaching, I have seen a steady increase in inappropriate racial/ethnic joking. While past racism in America was passed down from parent to child, I think a new racism is on the rise that is directly attributable to choices made by entertainment outlets and consumers. I am glad to see that a group of black leaders is seeking to end the black use of the word. According to CNN.com, "Black leaders on Monday challenged the entertainment industry, including rappers, to stop use of the racial slur that Michael Richards uttered in his tirade." For once, I agree with Jesse Jackson. This is a step in the right direction and may prove to be a positive result of Kramer's poor choice.
Peace
I spent my short break time continuing my winter yard upgrades. There is a narrow strip of wilderness on the north side of our house running the length of the property line. When we moved in, the wilderness was overgrown with blackberry, honeysuckle, and some kind of weed tree. I have been slowly beating back the wild and seem to have it on the retreat. In the process I have discovered that the area was a garbage dump for the previous residents. Two winters ago I disposed of four large garbage cans full of junk including beer cans, beer bottles, beer bottle caps, broken toys, broken tools, and sundry household items. I also discovered the remains of a fort of sorts.
This year I am working to excavate the remains of the fort and pull out some rocks for a landscape project I am working on. I found 14 caps from spray paint cans but no cans. I also found some linoleum, some carpet and lots of broken glass. Under all of that was a pile of rocks. When I say pile, I mean there is, in the middle of my little strip of woods, a collection of rocks covering an area about fifteen by fifteen feet and of as of yet undetermined depth. The five-year-old boy and the three-year-old girl helped me move some of the rocks but quickly got bored. I was able to renew the boy’s interest for another fifteen minutes by having him sort the rocks by color (he will gladly sort anything by color). Then he disappeared with a large stick and played with that for an hour. The girl used her shovel and pail in the dead vegetable garden patch.
Later the boy came to me said, “Daddy, you know how when humans die they bury them in the ground?”
“Uh, yes son.”
“I found a dead tomato and buried it. Then I drew an “X” over it in the dirt.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to tell him. I commended him for his creativity and sensitivity and assured him that the tomato’s family would have some closure. That got me thinking about graves. Just the day before at my parents for Thanksgiving leftovers, I had gone out to wonder my parent’s woods (I told you I spent a lot of time outside) and found my self-looking up at a tall, slender, and very dead pine tree that my dad wanted to take down. I stood at its base trying to figure out which way it was leaning to see if it was possible to bring down safely. Something shifted under my foot, and I heard something clink like too stones hitting together. Curious, I used my foot to sweep back the thick sheet of pine needles to reveal this:
Suddenly, a memory as vivid as it was distant came back to me: a little boy laying his dead pet hamster, Ivan III, to eternal rest at the foot of a young pine tree. The scent of the rotting vegetation, the sight of the black, root-bound soil, and the feel of the cold of the rich earth was so strong that I could see myself laying my pet in a small box underneath two red bricks. Years later, the tree that served as marker for Ivan’s grave has died. Even our graves die.
These thoughts went through my mind as I stood on a large pile of stones in the woods. What brought these stones here? Clearly, they were put there purposely by man. Could these stones be an Indian monument, a relic from the Civil War, or a grave?
We played soccer the rest of the afternoon.
Other Miscellany:
While at my parents, we broke out their new faux Christmas tree and decorated it. My daughter is very excited about Christmas this year and has no conception of time and she keeps asking if is Christmas. After three hours of tree decorating, it was time to go home. She was very upset to find out that we weren't taking the tree with us.
I was disappointed to hear about Kramer's offensive outburst but not terribly surprised. The offensive word he choose to employ has become ubiquitous in the current pop culture. Comics, rappers, and movies have made the word commonplace in an entertainment setting. My students (99% white) are growing up hearing the word continuously in daily use, and we should not be surprised to hear the word flowing out of the mouths of our children.
In my ten years of teaching, I have seen a steady increase in inappropriate racial/ethnic joking. While past racism in America was passed down from parent to child, I think a new racism is on the rise that is directly attributable to choices made by entertainment outlets and consumers. I am glad to see that a group of black leaders is seeking to end the black use of the word. According to CNN.com, "Black leaders on Monday challenged the entertainment industry, including rappers, to stop use of the racial slur that Michael Richards uttered in his tirade." For once, I agree with Jesse Jackson. This is a step in the right direction and may prove to be a positive result of Kramer's poor choice.
Peace
20 November 2006
Monday Miscellany: The Queen is Dead
I have shared before some of my family's continuing battle to keep beasts of the field from grazing in the fields of our home (see here and here). Our efforts have not always been successful though this has been the first year in several that I have been able to walk to my car in the dark without fear of becoming ensnared in the web of a spider large enough to eat me.
It now appears that our home, indeed our entire neighborhood, sits over a raging hellmouth of Formicidae (ant). One of our new bus stop friends has informed us that the entire neighborhood struggles with ant intrusions. We have battled occasion invasions for several years, usually with Max Attrax or Ant Kil. During times of rain, they take shelter in our cars. During times of dry, they invade our home looking for water. They rarely invade the kitchen. Frankly, I am a bit offended that they do not plunder the kitchen for food. Too good for our grub, indeed! Perhaps the phenomenon is merely a critical commentary on the relative rarity of food preparation in our kitchen. Lately, they have invaded our bathroom. Specifically, they have demonstrated a preference for our bathtub.
After a couple of weeks of intense battle, I thought I had them licked on Friday. Their numbers had trickled to a few stragglers when I noticed that several of them were huddled in the corner around a rather large mass. Large for ants that is. I looked closer and noticed that it was not a mass, but a super ant. The Queen. Had she come out to parlay or had I interrupted her and her attendants during their daily bath? My terms were unconditional surrender, but I don't think she heard me as a stream of hot water and shampoo washed her down the drain. I went to school elated in victory and sure that the ants would not soon return.
Today they returned en masse. I came home to multiple tracks of ants in the bathroom. Their chief objective seems to be the homemade soap. Dejected, I destroyed several tracks and laid out the baits again. The battle between man and nature goes on. At least I can rest assured that our ants are clean ants.
Peace
It now appears that our home, indeed our entire neighborhood, sits over a raging hellmouth of Formicidae (ant). One of our new bus stop friends has informed us that the entire neighborhood struggles with ant intrusions. We have battled occasion invasions for several years, usually with Max Attrax or Ant Kil. During times of rain, they take shelter in our cars. During times of dry, they invade our home looking for water. They rarely invade the kitchen. Frankly, I am a bit offended that they do not plunder the kitchen for food. Too good for our grub, indeed! Perhaps the phenomenon is merely a critical commentary on the relative rarity of food preparation in our kitchen. Lately, they have invaded our bathroom. Specifically, they have demonstrated a preference for our bathtub.
After a couple of weeks of intense battle, I thought I had them licked on Friday. Their numbers had trickled to a few stragglers when I noticed that several of them were huddled in the corner around a rather large mass. Large for ants that is. I looked closer and noticed that it was not a mass, but a super ant. The Queen. Had she come out to parlay or had I interrupted her and her attendants during their daily bath? My terms were unconditional surrender, but I don't think she heard me as a stream of hot water and shampoo washed her down the drain. I went to school elated in victory and sure that the ants would not soon return.
Today they returned en masse. I came home to multiple tracks of ants in the bathroom. Their chief objective seems to be the homemade soap. Dejected, I destroyed several tracks and laid out the baits again. The battle between man and nature goes on. At least I can rest assured that our ants are clean ants.
Peace
09 November 2006
Genius Has No...
This week we were discussing the rise of the women's movement during the 19th century in my AP US History class. I mentioned writer Mary E. Bryan's argument that "Genius has no sex." One of my students made a knowing, "Uh huh" under his breath. Chuckles of a few followed. I immediately amended my lecture notes. They now read, "Genius has no gender." The rewriting of history goes on...
Peace
Peace
01 November 2006
View from my Window
My AP US History class has been a lot of fun this year. The biggest surprise about them has been that they actually read and process the textbook. I have never had a class that has consistently read the assignment and brought that knowledge to class with them. Indeed, they have caught me in three minor errors so far this year.
The view from my classroom windows makes it difficult to focus somedays. I would much prefer camping or hiking in the mountains to the growth of absolutism under Louis XIII. I wish the angel of the Lord would say to me, "Run for your lives! And don’t look back or stop anywhere in the valley! Escape to the mountains, or you will be swept away!" (Genesis 19:17, taken badly out of context). Sadly, the master plan for the school calls for the magnificant hardwoods to be cut down and replaced with parking lots and sports fields. Alas the price of growth.
Here are some quick pics I took outside my window:
Peace
The view from my classroom windows makes it difficult to focus somedays. I would much prefer camping or hiking in the mountains to the growth of absolutism under Louis XIII. I wish the angel of the Lord would say to me, "Run for your lives! And don’t look back or stop anywhere in the valley! Escape to the mountains, or you will be swept away!" (Genesis 19:17, taken badly out of context). Sadly, the master plan for the school calls for the magnificant hardwoods to be cut down and replaced with parking lots and sports fields. Alas the price of growth.
Here are some quick pics I took outside my window:
Peace
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