The Ohoopee Letter News

Creative Homecoming Themes Part 3

2010-09-09T07:40:00.001-04:00

Our ballot for homecoming themes for this year's homecoming dance:

 Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory: Everyone gets a golden ticket to the most scrumdiddlyumptious dancing event in a world of pure imagination. Even Nerds will have a delickoricious time as Slugworth tries to steal the secret of the Everlasting Gobstopper. Inside this dance, all of your dreams become realities, and some of your realities become dreams.
 3:10 to [School name]: Load up the Conestoga wagon and hoof it on over to sprawling [school name] Ranch where you’ll whirl and gambol past the tumbleweed to the sweet sounds of banjos, lowing of cows, and the self-pity of Christian Bale. Join Doc Potter, Ben Wade, Zeke, Slick, and a host of Pinkertons at the squarest western dance this side of the OK Corral.

 Midnight in Gotham: A hearty dose of DC goodness will accompany you for an evening with the Dark Knight as he battles the Joker, Arkham Asylum, and chronic mumbling. Have Lucius Fox fuel up the Batmobile and make sure to tighten up your utility belt for an epic battle against the evil within. No one from Marvel will be admitted. This means you Iron Man.

 Medieval Knights: Forget the Dark Knight, join real knights at a rollicking medieval court. All of the Lords and Ladies of Castle [school name] assuredly will be taking their monthly baths for this special night of dancing among the minstrels and court jesters.

 Mystery in Savannah: The Spanish moss hangs languid in air heavy with humidity and expectation. The fog-shrouded dance floor evokes a sense of mystery. Ghosts of bandit-faced raccoons and other small mammals scurry with fear from the feet of revelers dancing the cobblestones of Olde Savannah.

Winner: Midnight in Gotham! Second Place: Willy Wonka

Looks like I'll be building a city this year.

Peace
..._

Constituting America

2010-08-31T22:12:00.000-04:00

A student of mine won a national award for a short film she made about the Constitution. She will be going to Philadelphia in a few weeks to accept the prize.

The organization that gave her the award is called Constituting America. The organization's mission is to: "reach, educate and inform America's youth and her citizens about the importance of the U.S. Constitution and the foundation it sets forth regarding our freedoms and rights." Constituting America was founded by the talented Janine Turner and is co-chaired by Cathy Gillespie. The National Youth Director for CA is Janine's daughter Juliette.

The Constituting America RV/Bus showed up to school on Friday, and Janine, Juliette, and Cathy were there to interview my student. I had the pleasure of meeting them all and, because I suggested that my student enter the contest, I also ended up being interviewed by the crew. I shall try to post more later about this thrilling and fascinating day.

My student's video can be seen at the website under the category "Best Short Film." You might see someone you know in the film. It was not his best performance.

Enjoy

Peace
..._

Fathers' Day

2010-06-17T22:52:00.000-04:00

I have posted about my dad before here, but considering that Sunday is Fathers' Day I thought I should post again about my dad and expand on what he has meant to me as a man and as a father.

In short, my Dad is the finest man I have ever known. He possesses the rare double gifts of both wisdom and intelligence. I have known a lot of smart people without a lick of wisdom and a lot of "uneducated" people who had more sense then a room full of Harvard dons. My Dad has both. I always knew he was smart, but it only in growing older and becoming a father myself have I realized how wise he is.

My dad worked the bulk of his career at IBM. He never talked about his job. I tried to ask him from time to time about his work, but he would never tell me much more than that he was a programmer. Like all jobs do to all men, it left him drained at the end of the day. I remembering him coming home every day, kissing his wife, going up stairs to change, and then coming back down stairs to watch a bit of news or MASH while dinner was being finished up. His job never seemed to consume him, I never remember him putting his job before us. I would like to think that he was not one who lived to work, but rather he worked to live and to provide for his family. I always figured that was why he didn't talk about his work at home, because his home and family was what he really cared about and why bring work to the dinner table?

My dad imparted to me a love of World War II movies and westerns. Movies on TBS were my first education in American history. Later he would indulge my growing interest in movies by taking me to see countless movies including the first Star Trek movie and the Star Wars trilogy. I never knew what he thought of the movies, but I remember his quiet presence beside me. I hope I thanked him for all the movies. If I didn't, well, that is what this is for: thanks Pop.

Later, when I became obsessed with space, he and Mom took me to Huntsville, Alabama. Then it was every historical site on the way to family in Missouri and Virginia.

As I said in my previous post, one of the greatest things he gave me was a sense of security. If we ever had money problems (and I seriously doubt it) then I was never aware of it. My Dad is both wonderfully generous and very careful with his money. It is a great comfort to me that my Dad has planned his retirement so well that I don't have to worry about him and Mom needing to move into the basement. Indeed, it is a great joy to see them both able to travel, and give, and enjoy retirement without financial worry. All of those washed-out ziploc bags, hand-washed plastic wear, and extra-chunky powdered milks paid off.

We always had everything we needed and more. Christmas never left me wanting more (and still doesn't).

When my mother was in the hospital several years ago for an extended near-death experience, my father was a paragon of all things a husband should be. He took care of my Mom better than any nurse or doctor could. He looked out for her and gently challenged the care she was being given. When "gently" didn't work, he was strong and insistent for her. Despite his own suffering, he was the anchor for us all. He gave forgiveness and compassion to the surgeon responsible for the mistake that almost killed his wife even when it will still unsure if she would make it. It was nearly impossible to pry him from his wife's side to get home for some rest, for who could take care of her better than him? Indeed, I know I always felt better about things when he was there. I still do.

He remains the strongest and hardest-working man I know. He does what he does quietly and without complaint.

There is much more I could and probably should say, but I hope this is enough to show my appreciation and love for Pop.

Peace
..._

The Faces of M.E.W.

2010-04-20T09:34:00.003-04:00

Best viewed large (taken at Red Top Mountain):

A student reported on a recent assignment that Al Capone was incarcerated at Al Catraz.

Updated: I just discovered that my wife also posted about this day here. She chose two of the same pictures for her post.
Peace
..._

Alas! A Lass Under the Bright Summer Sun

2010-04-11T19:50:00.002-04:00

When I was a very young man, there was a young woman who attended the same church as I did. She seemed taller than she actually was. Her posture and carriage made her tall or at least higher than the other young women. She always wore pretty dresses and long hair and moved with the grace of a model. She didn't seem to walk so much as glide. I would say I had a crush on her, but I felt that she was so far above my station that I didn't feel the right to have a crush on her. I don't recall ever having the courage to speak to her. I admired her at a distance.

One very bright and sunny morning I found myself at an event where, by the fates, I was obligated to sit next to her. I tried to talk to her and be wise and witty, but mostly found I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I remember nothing of the conversation, but I remember feeling smaller and smaller and a sweat breaking out across my forehead. At last, I felt that I couldn't politely continue to carry on a conversation with her without looking in her direction. So I did. I fully expected a vision of heaven upon earth. The sun shone full in her face, a blush of heat growing upon her cheeks, and a brown mustache lit up like the Vegas strip, sordid and mundane.

I turned away, wishing that I had never looked, that she would always have remained the faultless angel seen from afar as through a rose-coloured and hairless glass. If only I could shave that hairy lip from my brain then she would still live on eternally and infinitely beautiful, but the bristles grow forever more prickly in my brain as a reminder that the full sun brings light to the flaws of every man, woman, and child. Alas for us all.

Peace
..._

Mid-Week Miscellany: The Lady Gaga Edition

2010-03-31T21:42:00.000-04:00

I have been a loyal, dedicated, and profitable customer of Amazon.com for years. Today, however, they hurt me. Hurt me and left me befuddled and dazed. And a little angry. Amazon has worked very hard at recommending items based upon my past browsing and buying habits. The algorithms their 10,000 monkeys generated for my account have generally been very good at suggesting books, movies, and music for my buying pleasure.

When I opened up Amazon.com today to check the status of an order, I saw, listed under "Inspired by your shopping trends," the following items:
A Canon lens case (okay-good choice)
A flash card (yep-understand that one)
A "How to survive the end of the world" book (a little flummoxed by this one but I did buy "On the Beach," "The Day After," "The Hunt for Red October," "Wargames," "Red Dawn," "Failsafe," and "The Manchurian Candidate" all in one order this winter. Okay, maybe I'm not so flummoxed by this one; it makes sense in retrospect)
A World War II computer game (hold on while I move this item to my cart)
A Lady Gaga album: Bad Romance: The Remixes (this is the one that angered and befuddled me; as if I would ever...Lady Gaga!)

Speaking of the end of the world, can you believe that a teacher I know and respect believes that the world may end in 2012 and teaches this to his students? He has a survival bunker with a year's worth of water. How that will help if the world ends, I don't profess to know. Of course I know another teacher who taught French by showing French language movies that he had not previewed first. It is never a good idea to show a movie you haven't carefully watched. This is especially true of French language movies.

I am taking sixty juniors to Six Flags next week for seven and a half hours. I hate rides. I hate Six Flags. You can find me on the train or the Monster Mansion. Pray for me.

Peace
..._

Donuts with Daddys Part III: I Love my Dad because he eats Corn!

2010-03-13T20:00:00.001-05:00

It has been my pleasure to go to my childrens' Donuts with Daddies events whenever possible. I told about two previous events with my eldest here and here. With four children I have found it difficult to go to each one. I missed the twins' event recently but I still got to keep a tie and a questionnaire of each of their impressions of me. They are three and a half.

Matthew:
What is your Dad's name? Daddy
How old is your Dad? 3
What color are Dad's eyes? Red (me: I must be really scary)
Hair? Orange
How tall is your Dad? This tall [raised his hand]
What is Dad's favorite food? Chicken
What is your Dad's job? Teacher (me: good job)
Where is Dad's favorite place to go? work (me: not so much)
What is Dad's favorite TV show? football (me: he enjoyed watching football with me this fall)
What does Dad do around the house? play, eats (me: sad but accurate)
What is your favorite thing to do with your Dad? Watch a show
I love my Dad because I do!

William:
What is your Dad's name? Mark (me: what?)
How old is your Dad? 8 (me: closer than your brother's guess)
What color are Dad's eyes? Blue (me: well done)
Hair? Black
How tall is your Dad? Bigger
What is Dad's favorite food? apples (me: not so much)
What is your Dad's job? works on computers (me: teaching involves so much mouse work these days that I have to give him credit for this one)
Where is Dad's favorite place to go? stay home (me: I didn't know that he knew me this well)
What is Dad's favorite TV show? movies (me: well done)
What does Dad do around the house? plays with me; watches TV (me: true; I am glad they both said "play")
What is your favorite thing to do with your Dad? eat carrots with him; color (me: carrots? Carrots!)
I love my Dad because he eats corn! (me: again with the food)

I love those two boys. I am sorry I missed their day with me, but we are on a strict "don't take any days off because it is re-enrollment (and new contract) season."

I spent a day in the mountains recently. Here's a photo for your enjoyment. I may post about the adventure. I may not. Check out my photos at my Flickr for more of the same.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Sufjan Stevens and My Boy turns Nine

2010-01-17T21:26:00.001-05:00

I have been hearing about Sufjan Stevens for several years now. Last summer I finally bought his album Come on and feel the Illinoise. I wish I had listened years ago. His writing is beautiful, clever, and original. I do not think I have ever heard a song more perfect than Casmir Pulaski Day nor more devastating than John Wayne Gacy, Jr.

It has been a long, cold winter. This song touched me today. Here are the lyrics from Oh, God Where are you Now?

Oh God hold me now.
Oh Lord hold me now.
There's no other man
who could raise the dead.
So do what you can
to anoint my head.

Oh God, where are you now?
Oh Lord, save somehow.
The Devil is hard on my face again.
The world is a hundred to one again .

Would the righteous still remain?
Would my body stay the same?
Oh God hold me now.
Oh God touch me now.
There's no other man
who could save the dead
There's no other garden
to place our head.

Would the righteous still remain?
Would my body stay the same?

There's no other man
who could raise the dead
So do what you can
to anoint my head,
Oh God hold me now.
Oh Lord touch me now.

My eldest son turned nine this week. He is amazing, lovely, and more than I ever could have hoped for in an eldest son. He is smarter than his parents put together. Pray that we can be the parents that he needs.

A rather maudlin miscellany. Maybe later I shall tell you about my mini-class on films of the Cold War. Youngsters really hate black and white these days.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Turning Forty While Running from the Reaper

2009-11-23T20:55:00.000-05:00

40. Forty. XL. The number is biblical in its proportions. Rain for forty days and forty nights. Forty years of wandering the desert. Forty days of fasting. Forty days of lent. Everything seems to last seven or forty days or years. I don’t remember seven. Last month I turned forty. I don't feel I am allowed to play with my son's LEGO bricks anymore. Did you know that wikipedia has an entry for the number "40?"

At lunch one day, I confided in one of respected elders that I had passed this serious milestone. I hoped for some aged sagacity or perhaps a hopeful cliché like, "Life begins at forty." He looked at me and grunted, "Yeah, that's when everything starts falling apart."

In February (I was only 39 at the time) I decided to take up running. My hope was to keep the grim reaper off of my heels for a few more miles. To keep me inspired I began entering 5k races. Knowing that I will be running in a race with dozens, hundreds, or thousands of other runners forces me to get out and run so that I don't embarrass myself. I still embarrass myself. I am continually passed by 78 year-old runners who are barely breathing heavily through their three teeth, pregnant women pushing strollers, and the faster of the toddlers. In my first race I was passed by a seventeen year old girl with only a tenth of a mile left before the finish line. I was breathing like Darth Vader on speed before I finally pulled my body and crushed ego across the finish line.

Most of the races are fund-raisers for local charities. Many of them have fun names. They usually give out T-Shirts, prizes, and medals for winning or placing in your age group. My first race was the Fire Ant 5k in Ashburn, GA. It is part of the big Fire Ant Festival down there. It was a small race, and I finished the race without throwing up, suffering a major coronary event or even seeing a fire ant. I have also run the Athletes Helping Athletes 5k (for greyhound adoption) in Kennesaw, GA, a Run for the World 5k (in Rome, GA), and one down by the Chattahoochee River. After every race my son and daughter ask me if I won. I finally got a 2nd place medal for my age group in the Hog Jog of Vienna, GA. The Hog Jog is the kick off event for the Big Pig Jig. I haven’t told my children that there were only two people in my age group and that the guy who got first finished twelve minutes before I did. They were very proud of me. One of my students asked if the Hog Jog was for, er, bigger runners.

I will be running the Gobble Jog on Thanksgiving morning.

I knew I had truly turned forty the other day when I walked into a Walgreens and bought a box of Preparation H from the cute little girl at the cash register without embarrassment or without trying to disguise it by buying a bunch of other stuff.

Peace
..._

The Builder and the Destroyer

2009-11-04T07:57:00.000-05:00

"There are three classes of man. The first and smallest class is that of the dreamer. The dreamer lives to inspire the second class. The second class is that of the builder. The builder lives to stay one brick ahead of the third and greatest class of man, the destroyer. The destroyer will not rest until there is no place left to rest."--Tiebos

There were two boys. Their homes sat opposite each other's in a typical suburban neighborhood. Both of them were strange and stood out among the typical suburban children. They found themselves mocked by the other boys of the neighborhood. In turn, they mocked each other, as they had learned that is how the game was played. In a moment of divine grace, a day came when enlightenment shone upon them, and they saw that it was their very strangeness that united them. The two boys became the best of friends.

They spent their days in collecting and building. They collected rocks, shells, coins, stamps, high scores on the Atari 2600 and Intellivision, cereal boxes, license plates, and any thing else that was collectible (and some things that were not). But their collecting was, for them, another way of building. They built cities everywhere and out of anything. They build a rock city by the mailbox, a Lego City in the basement, a domino city next to the Lego City, a Lincoln Log city in the bedroom, and a dirt city in an embankment.

The dirt city was built into a six foot, sloping embankment in one of the boy's backyard. Pine trees swayed above the boys as they used hand spades to carve out roads from the cool red clay for Hot Wheels, and caves for homes, businesses, and fire stations. Working through dusk, red mosquito welts would rise like constellations on their arms as the first stars tried futilely to replace the fading sunlight. Sticks served as lampposts, guardrails, and pillars in the spreading metropolis. One of the boys pilfered a small bucket of concrete mix from a nearby home site to pave his roads and line his caves. The other refused to use the mix because it was stolen, but secretly coveted the smooth gray streets of his friend.

One afternoon, they boys returned from school to find two large gashes like the track of twin slashing meteorites had devastated their city. The sneaker prints at the end of each gash betrayed the man-made disaster that had been wrecked upon them. Believing the damage to have been accidental, the boys threw themselves into repairing the damage. Joy welled in their hearts whenever they discovered a beloved spot that, thought destroyed, was actually preserved under the ruins. Excavations and new road-building had the city running again by dinner time.

The next day the boys found more destructive footprints. It dawned on the boys that there was no other explanation than the idea that the destruction was purposeful. The boys were hurt in their hearts and couldn't understand why another would destroy their work. But they rebuilt the city....

...to find the city destroyed again. After this, they began hiding their work every evening with pine straw, hoping that this would keep the angel of death from visiting their city. This ruse worked for a few days before, once again, the ravishing feet trampled their town.

In the now mournful silence of rebuilding, one of the boys stood up, red clay sticking to bare knees and proclaimed,
"I'm done."
"You're going home?"
"No, I'm done with dirt city. I don't want to do it anymore."
"But I love dirt city."
"So do I, but I can't stand that someone keeps coming and destroying it." It hurts too much, he didn't say.
"What if we built it somewhere else?"
"They would find it. They would find it and destroy it."
"Oh."
"Its a little kid game."
"No, its not!"
"Let's play video games."

That fall, the pine needles settled over the broken concrete and shattered caves of dirt city and have never again been cleared away. One of the boys either grew up a little that day, or part of him died. Probably a little of both.

Peace
..._

In the Land of the Philistines

2009-11-02T08:33:00.000-05:00

In the spring of 2007, I was faced with a terrible decision: whether or not to leave the school I had been at for the previous six years. I had already signed the "I haven't decided" box on my letter of intent to let my school know that I was exploring other options. I found out a couple of weeks later that my boss took all "I haven't decideds" as personal affronts to his authority and leadership (he is an overly zealous believer in "From Good to Great) and considered such answers as the same as "I will not be returning." He was already interviewing for my position and had found a candidate for my position. After some push back by some parents and school board members on my behalf, he sat down and actually talked to me one on one (something he had never done before). He told me that they wanted to keep me and that if the problem was money, something could be worked out. It was a very amicable conversation, and knowing that if I talked openly about my concerns about the school that I would be burning my bridges with him, I probably left him with the impression that I needed better benefits for the newly minted twin boys. In truth, I thought he was a brilliant man with a great plan, but a terrible person. He gave me a week to give him a final answer. I didn't realize until later that the deadline was actually quite flexible.

It was a Friday when that deadline came up. The week had been difficult for me. I loved the faculty and students at the school. I made a list of reasons to leave. The list was over a page long. Still I hesitated. The students had just given me a van the year before. How could I leave that?

The day of decision was a teacher workday. I could get nothing done as I agonized over the decision. I paced my classroom seeking some clear sign. Finally, I picked up a Bible. It was one of a stack of ones from lost and found that I kept in my room. At a loss for wisdom, I decided to do the blind flip. For those of you not familiar with this process, let me explain. You close your eyes and open the Bible to a random place. Then you open your eyes and read the first thing you see. I have always seen this like using the Bible as a giant Christian Ouija board and do not recommend it as genuine process of Bible study and wisdom seeking, but I was desperate and I no longer give a snobbish snort inside my head when someone confesses to doing it.

The first verse I read as a result of my blind flip was somewhere in the Old Testament. I do not remember the exact verse, but the words advised me to take up my stuff and go somewhere else. It might have been in Job or Isaiah or even in Acts. The advice was so exact that I laughed at the coincidence and did another blind flip for amusement.

The second blind flip lead me to this verse from 1 Samuel 27:
1 And David said in his heart, I shall now perish one day by the hand of Saul: there is nothing better for me than that I should speedily escape into the land of the Philistines; and Saul shall despair of me, to seek me any more in any coast of Israel: so shall I escape out of his hand.

I laughed again but uneasily this time. I kept a thumb on that page as I did another blind flip.

The third blind flip lead me to these verses from Exodus 12:
30And Pharaoh rose up in the night, he, and all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt; for there was not a house where there was not one dead.

31And he called for Moses and Aaron by night, and said, Rise up, and get you forth from among my people, both ye and the children of Israel; and go, serve the LORD, as ye have said.

32Also take your flocks and your herds, as ye have said, and be gone; and bless me also.

I sent my e-mail within half and hour and have never regretted it.

Peace
..._

Photos from Fall

2009-10-28T09:30:00.004-04:00

Above: Taken on ridgeline on side of road (281) overlooking Whitewater Falls.
Below: Taken at overlook on 246/106 on way from Dillard to Highlands.

Above and Below: Taken at Dry Falls, NC on Highway 64 just west of Highlands, NC.

Above: Dry Falls again.
Below: unknown waterfall on the highway 64 from Highlands to Franklin.

Above: Whitewater Falls, North Carolina.
More at my Flickr page.
Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Mountains Edition

2009-10-26T21:14:00.003-04:00

My wife and I were lucky enough to get away this weekend to Highlands, North Carolina. The weather was perfect, the leaves were falling, and the waterfalls were roaring after heavy rain on Friday. Here are some quick thoughts on the trip. Hopefully, pictures will soon follow. Homecoming went very well, and pictures will soon follow of that.

Georgia waterfalls are beautiful and graceful. North Carolina waterfalls are magnificent and powerful.

While at an antique store outside of Dahlonega looking for a memento of our trip, we came upon a cheap desk that, we thought, would make a perfect desk for our eldest son. Feigning to use my professional furniture grading eye, I pulled out a drawer for inspection while my wife watched. As I lifted the drawer up to look in the bottom, I heard my wife gasp in shock and dismay from where she could see the bottom of the drawer. I couldn't see the bottom, and my heart skipped a beat as I visualized a colony of black widows or brown recluse spiders or a hidden murder weapon in my hands. I was afraid to turn over the drawer until my wife started laughing. Pasted on the underside was a photo from, we guess, a popular men's magazine of two girls by a pool sans swimming wear. We laughed for a long time. Oh, it was the only drawer so decorated; we checked the other six.

We visited waterfalls we had never seen before. On both mornings, we made the brief drive to the ironically named, "Dry Falls" before dawn to enjoy some solitude. The flow was so immense, powerful, and loud that leaving it felt like leaving a rock concert. The spray burst up from the rocks below in running puffs that startled us for looking so very much like leaping white ghosts in the cold morning air. While we couldn't see the sunrise from where we were, we could see the evidence of the sunrise, and that is all we sometimes need.

~~There is a strip-mall in Dillard~~ In one of the strip malls that make up the city of Dillard, Georgia there is a large antique store, a Christmas store, a general store, and an "independent" coffee shop. While my wife and I sat outside at a table sipping our hot beverages of choice, my wife asked if I had noticed the many "earth-friendly, organic, local, sustainable, etc" signs in the coffee shop. Indeed it was hard to miss the theme of the shop. Then she brilliantly observed something I had entirely missed, "Why do all the men at places like this have long hair and all of the women have short hair?" It is something to ponder on a cloudy Monday at work. The hot chocolate was excellent.

Peace
..._

Mid-Week Miscellany: Birthdays and Wipes

2009-09-02T21:01:00.001-04:00

The twin boys turned three a couple of weeks ago. We had a small celebration on their birthday with some cupcakes and good cheer. There is one picture of that day, not caught on camera, but one that I hope I shall never forget: W. and M. were sitting at the table waiting for their cupcakes. As I as came around the corner bearing twin candles lit over twin cakes, W.'s face swelled into what can only be described as an expression of pure joy. He rose up out of his seat smiling broadly as his hands clenched beneath his chin in spasms of happiness. He is normally the quiet and stoic one. I have never seen him happier. I write it here to remember.

When one of the boys was a babe, I don't remember which one, there was a time of weariness and much changing of diapers. My wife was away or resting, and I did something of which I am ashamed. I have never confesesed it. While changing his diaper, I reached for the wet-wipes and cleaned him up. Part of my brain was trying to tell me that something was wrong and that wipes don't normally smell so lemony, but it was an hour later that I realized that I had used Lysol disinfecting wipes. No harm was done, but I felt guilty about it for weeks after. I thought of it today as I disinfected the desks in my classroom with Lysol wipes.

Happy Birthday my boys (taken while getting ready to go to Grandma's house pizza and cake party):

Peace
...-

Why Are All Princesses Skinny?

2009-08-31T19:41:00.000-04:00

It is in the mundane, everyday moments of life that the most profound questions confront us and force us to rise above the wash, drippy spout, or untended weeds for more awesome things.  The moment comes unlooked for and, generally, unasked for. They catch us unguarded, ill prepared, and distracted. It was such a moment when my six-year-old daughter skipped up to a tired, Civilization IV playing me at the computer and asked, "Why are all princesses skinny?" She was holding a diminutive plastic Jasmine figurine. The figure was in the style of the picture above which in fact shows one of Ariel's many slender sisters. While the sister above is posed much like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model (only with less clothes), the Jasmine figure I can't currently find is much less contorted and doesn't look like she is trying touch her shoulder blades to her tail bone. Nevertheless, the Jasmine figure certainly puts the figure in figurine, if you know what I mean.

I have found that when confronted with a difficult question or one that one does not wish to answer, it is best to answer with a question. So I said:
"Why do you say that?"
"Because all of the princesses are skinny. Ariel, Jasmine, Cinderella, Belle...all of them are skinny."
[my answer redacted out of shame]
"I think they are skinny because if they were fat, no one would know they are princesses."
[my answer redacted out of shame]
"When I grow up I am going to get really skinny so I will look like a princess."
[my answer redacted out of shame]

She is only six.  It was, of course, much later that I thought of much better things to say than the pitifully weak things I did say. The incident caused me to question much of what I have been told about raising little girls. In days before TV, girls were raised to be free of vanity, so compliments were kept to a minimum. Later, the same psychologists who have given us our public school system told us that this was damaging to a developing child's self-esteem, so a plethora of compliments were encouraged to build up a girl's self-image. I fear sometimes that we have gone too far in telling all of our girls how beautiful they are. To continually do so can only make them think that the main thing we value in them is their appearance. They become vain.

The last time I was at Disney, the six princesses did a song in front of the castle. The lyrics were something to the effect, "Every girl is a princess."   Every girl wants to be a princess, but I have to wonder if that is a dream to which our girls should aspire when the target that the royal ladies make is so narrow in the waist.
ace

Peace
...-

Mondai Miscelleny: The Spelin Editon

2009-08-24T10:25:00.002-04:00

Last week I gave my students a review quiz over the fifty states. I told them that spelling would not count. That was an error. Here is a sampling of the creative spellings used by my 11th grade students:

Unusual:
Whyoming (hey, why not?)
Newbraska (settled by the inhabitants of Old Braska)
Utha
Massachutes (and scores!)
Whashington (from the student who knew there was an "H" but wasn't sure where)
Illinoise (from two students, thank you Sufjan Stevens)
Illnois

Common:
Deleware
Minnisota
Minesota
Minnasota
Conneticut
Coneticut
Main
Road Island

Peace
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Homecoming Themes: Erupt!

2009-08-21T11:25:00.002-04:00

I am the student government sponsor at my school. We try to be creative in our planning and execution of the Homecoming Dance. Today the student body voted for their choice of theme from a ballot put together by student government. Here is the ballot we used (references to the school name have been redacted):

Homecoming ‘09
>Jammin’ in Jamaica : Steel drums will pace your dancing as you enjoy an exotic adventure on a Caribbean island. The spirit of Marley will oversee the festivities.
>Sunset on the Prairie: Load up the Conestoga wagon and hoof it on over to sprawling XXXXX Ranch where you will whirl and gambol past the tumbleweed to the sweet sounds of banjos and the lowing of cows. When the sun goes down, the prairie dogs know to hide deep in their dens because all the cowboys and cowgirls of XXXXX Ranch are about to throw the squarest western dance this side of the OK Corral.
>Seven Seas: Sail across the dance floor on a three hour tour while fending off waves of pirates. No ninjas will be admitted.
>Bow Ties and Tie-Dye: Don’t let the Man get you down; instead, relive the spirit of the Sixties as all the flower children of XXXXX turn out for a night of Peace and Understanding. If you’re going to San XXXXXisco, remember to put some flowers in your hair; you’re going to meet some gentle people there.
>Erupt!: Everyone thought Mount XXXXX was dormant until it blew the roof off of Homecoming ’09. Dance at the base of an erupting volcano and save your date from a pyroclastic flow. Asbestos dance wear recommended.

The runaway winner: Erupt! We now have less than two months to plan how to fit a forty foot volcano into our gymnasium. Dang it. They had to pick the toughest one.

Last year's theme was A Night at the Oasis. Read about it HERE.

Peace

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Monday Miscellany: Back to School and Blogging Edition

2009-08-10T20:33:00.009-04:00

Last night my eight-year-old son confessed that he was feeling a wee bit antsy about the start of school. This was a big improvement from last year when I found him quietly but tragically crying in his bed because he couldn't find his stuffed elephant. His elephant was his preferred stuffed comfort. It was usually the only thing he packed to spend the night at grandma and poppa's. We hadn't seen him for a while. As I helped him search his room, I had painful flashback: it was the great group ralph of '08 at the Chintzibob vomitorium; feverish, I had been holding a stuffed elephant, soaked to the plush grey ears with thrown-up something. There were chunks. The flashback was over. What had I done with my boy's floppy-eared friend? My only guess is that he was thrown in the rubbish bin. He has not returned, and the boy has not brought him up again.

This morning the boy awoke with full-scale chicken pox. So much for the first week of school.

The twin boys soon turn three. M is conscientious, helpful, and a budding Dr. Doolittle. Our little home has been plagued by ants for years. We have slowly become used to them. I realized that it has, perhaps, gone a bit too far when M started catching them, keeping them, and feeding them raisins. He has named the spider outside his window "John."

One night, after I had put the twins to bed, I heard M crying for me. We have reversed the locks so that we can lock them in when necessary. He likes to counter this strategy by putting his lips under the door and shouting at the top of his lungs to get our attention. He was doing this. I went upstairs to see what the problem was. I heard him as I rounded the corner, "Daddy, door not locked, I can get out!" The little guy was concerned that he was going to be tempted beyond what he could bear. There is a spiritual lesson there somewhere.

Our summer was a quiet and restful one. I took a lot of photo hikes. I took the kids to the Tellus museum (4.5 of 5 stars), the park several times, and Amicalola Falls. The daddy long legs were spawning at Amicalola and at times the forest floor seemed to be no more than a carpet of fast-moving feet. The eldest and I went with Poppa to a Rome Braves game (also 4.5 of 5 stars). The Braves lost. There were other things. It is all a blur now. I took a group of students on a retreat. We rafted down the Ocoee. I didn't die.

I have one the easiest teaching schedules this year that I have ever had. For the first semester I will be teaching only four classes and will only have two preps. Granted, planning Homecoming is like another class. We are leaning towards a Sixties theme.

I was working on some assignments for my AP US history class while subconsciously pondering current events. I try to keep politics from this blog so if you don't want any politics, skip what comes next and look at the cut picture at the bottom. Really, I don't want to offend you so stop now. So Nancy Pelosi and Steny Hoyer wrote an editorial in which they claim that the recent boisterousness at Congressional town hall meetings, "are occurring because opponents are afraid not just of differing views--but of the facts themselves. Drowning out opposing views is simply un-American." While I am quite aware that the House prides itself on being the arbiter on all things un-American (see HUAC), I am afraid that the two esteemed house members are ill-informed about the roots of American protest. They cite, "GASP", that someone has even made an effigy of a Congressman! One doesn't have to be much of student of the American Revolution to know that shouting, yelling, vigorous yodeling, effigies, bonfires, involuntary rail-riding, burning of stamps, soaking of tea, tarring, feathering, tarring and feathering, name-calling, lettering writing, wig-wearing, and wig-throwing were all part of the patriot protest toolbox put together by the founding fathers. The founding fathers of the United States of America! If anything, the old, well-heeled codgers yelling at the Congressmen are unAmerican in their boisterous civility. If they want to protest in a more truly American way, then they are going to have to begin scrounging the egg case and produce aisle for a few choice items past their time and begin kindling some controlled releases of carbon. UPDATE: I used the term "founding fathers with a rather broad definition. With the exception of Sam Adams, most of the be-wigged and capitalized class of Founding Fathers were a bit suspicious of the rabble/mob and tended to disparage their more boisterous demonstrations (like the Boston Tea Party), but I doubt many of them would have called a good effigy burning, "Un-American" nor "un-English."

In a New York court in 1733, Andrew Hamilton successfully defended John Peter Zenger from the charges of seditious libel. The case is credited with establishing a freedom of the press in colonies that was not enjoyed in the home countries. Here is the quote I wanted to share with you: "Men who injure and oppress the people under their administration provoke them to cry out and complain, and then make that very complaint the foundation for new oppressions and prosecutions" (quoted in Diane Ravitch The American Reader). I suppose it wouldn't bother me so much if I thought that real debate is desired, but it is clear that the current government wants us all to shut up and take our government issued medicine. They promise that it is good for us.

At the park:

Peace
...-

Monday Miscellany

2009-04-20T17:36:00.008-04:00

I am sure I am not the first parent to experience this but...while I was driving my six-year-old daughter to dance last week, I took a moment to lecture her on the importance of behaving properly while in public. She listened intently and affirmed, "That is right. We should behave that way in Publix or Kroger or Target or any store."

When my wife told me that one of the twins fell asleep standing up, I thought she was exaggerating and could not visualize the possibility. I skeptically shuffled up the stairs with my camera and stood agog and took the following pictures:

The boys are getting closer and closer to each other. The curly-headed hobbit boy fell asleep in my lap on Easter. His first words on waking up were, "Where's Lala [his word for his brother]?" I said, "Outside." He replied without hesitation, "Outside, too" and jumped off of my lap. I like how this photo suggests that they fell asleep while looking at each other.

The blond-headed Nordic boy did, in fact, say, "Knees hurt" as soon as he woke up. You can see why.

Peace

..._

Cheese!

2008-12-11T19:20:00.006-05:00

The eldest twin loves the new camera almost as much as I do. As soon as he sees it in someone's hands, he makes a rush for the shiny lens while squealing, "Cheese!" This has made for more than a few fun shots. Here he is saying "Cheese!"

Typically I am careful to put the camera down out of the reach of little hands, but I had just taken a few shots when my eldest son needed some homework help so I put the camera on the coffee table, confident that I would be right back to it. Minutes later I heard the eldest twin's sweet little voice calling out, "Cheese!" I was sure that I would turn around to the sight of my camera dragging along the floor with high priced pieces trailing behind it. Instead, my boy was busy composing a still life using my camera and his most priced possession, his cup. If he had known how to take off the lens cap, turn on the camera, and push the button, this is the shot he would have taken:

I took the shot for him and showed him the results. He was immensely proud of himself.

Here is a free shot of the twins. The writing on the wall is the product of the eldest twin; whenever he finds a pencil or crayon, he can be counted upon to sneak off and color something. The younger twin (the big one on the right) always brings me crayons and pencils when he finds them so that I can put them away.

Peace
..._

Mid-Week Miscellany: I Couldn't Give That

2008-11-19T20:49:00.007-05:00

I teach at a school that attracts a predominantly white, upper-middle class student body. The school has, however, become a bit of a magnet for new Korean immigrants. I teach several of our Korean students, and their efforts to learn American English while trying to fit into a homogeneous and harsh social order has been alternately heart-breaking and humorous to observe. I try to help when I can and one of them in particular comes to me often with questions about the meaning of words and phrases. I have assured him that his eagerness to learn and willingness to ask questions will take him far. The other day he came up to me while I stood in a small crowd of students and asked, "Mr. Chintzibobs, sir, what does it mean to say 'I couldn't give a sh*t'?" It was, as they say, a teachable moment. It turns out he overheard it while listening to a group of teenage girls talking about some guy. I gave him a quick lesson on impolite words and advised him to avoid the gossip of teenage girls if he hoped to learn proper English and if he valued his sanity.

I also have a German foreign exchange student in my US history class. Should I be worried that it might be awkward to teach World War II with her in the room? Maybe I should just leave my Dr. Strangelove impression at home this year.

I don't think I ever updated my many readers concerning homecoming. The students selected as their theme:
A Night at the Oasis: Spend an exotic evening under the stars at a Bedouin campsite; warm yourself by the fire, relax in a Bedouin tent, or whirl like a dervish on the dance floor.

We spent countless hours and $4,800 on what turned out to be the best Bedouin themed homecoming ever! Here are some pictures. You can see many more over at my Flickr page.

We built four 10' x 10' tents out of 2x4's painted a lovely shade named, "cranberry zing."

The roofs were covered with gossamer purchased from Stumps.com.

Because we only expected about 200 guests, we created a small, cozy rectangle in the middle of the gym to create a more intimate space. The rectangle was created with black polyvinyl (again from Stumps.com) stapled to wooden uprights anchored in five gallon buckets filled with concrete. We then placed one tent in each corner.

A dramatic lighted entryway led from an exterior door to the center:

Each tent was decorated with unique imported Indian fabrics (purchased through E-bay), pillows (made from cloth napkins, table runners, and placemats that my wife found for a song), plants from Old Time Pottery, and rugs from Garden Ridge.

Each tent was also equipped with a faux fire (a Chauvet Bob purchased through Amazon.com).

From one tent to another:

Most of the pictures were taken with the lights on; the effect was much warmer when the gym lights went down. The black polyvinyl, which has the appearance in the full light of a massive trash bag day tends to transform into a black void when the lights go off. The night ended up a great success.

Peace
..._

First Picture With My New Camera

2008-11-10T21:13:00.002-05:00

Peace
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Track Your Shipment: A Modern-Day Torture Device UPDATED

2008-11-07T07:30:00.009-05:00

UPDATE: My camera has safely touched down in Atlanta:
November 7, 2008 12:01:00 PM ATLANTA GA US Arrival Scan
November 7, 2008 03:16:00 AM INDIANAPOLIS IN US Departure Scan
November 7, 2008 02:35:00 AM INDIANAPOLIS IN US Arrival Scan
November 6, 2008 09:51:00 PM HODGKINS IL US Departure Scan
November 6, 2008 05:17:00 PM HODGKINS IL US Arrival Scan
November 4, 2008 12:42:00 AM SPARKS NV US Departure Scan
November 3, 2008 09:04:33 PM US Shipment has left seller facility and is in transit
November 3, 2008 07:49:00 PM SPARKS NV US Shipment received by carrier

So, what is it?

Canon Digital Rebel XSi 12.2 MP Digital SLR Camera with EF-S 18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 IS Lens (Black)

I guessI deserve the cross-country tour for selecting free super-saver shipping. And yes, I do track my shipment on average about every two hours. Happy birthday to me.

Peace

..._

Wednesday Miscellany: George Washington is Dead

2008-11-05T20:39:00.009-05:00

Yesterday:
Five year old girl to daddy: "Why do Aarrack Obama and John McCain want to be president?"

Daddy: "Well, that is a good question. I don't know. Hopefully, they want to serve the country well."

Five year old girl: "I think it is because George Washington died and someone has to take his place."

In car from church fall festival to Aunt's house for party on Halloween:
Daddy: "Wow! Look at all of the trick-or-treaters."

Seven year old boy: "Daddy, when will we get to go trick-or-treating?"

Daddy: "We'll see."

Seven year old boy: "I hope it is soon because I am ready to see some new faces."

Five year old girl on the ferris wheel with Daddy (both for their first time):

Notes:
The boy and girl did get to go trick-or-treating; they had a grand time. George Washington was one of the few presidents who never did want the job; William Howard Taft was another. Teddy Roosevelt reportedly offered to make him a Supreme Court justice or his chosen successor as president. Taft chose justice. Taft's wife chose president. Taft's wife won. His presidency was challenging and unsatisfactory. Years later he would live his dream as chief justice of the Supreme Court. It is not a typo: my daughter cannot say the "B" in Barack's name.

Peace
..._

Homecoming Themes

2008-08-29T12:37:00.004-04:00

My life over the next eights weeks will be taken over by planning for Homecoming '08! The exclamation point is to let you know that I am supposed to be excited about this. As student government advisor, it is my job to supervise some twenty students in the planning and production of homecoming week. That includes homecoming week festivities, homecoming pep rally, court and queen presentation at halftime on Friday, and the homecoming dance on Saturday night. Last year's homecoming almost killed me and had me questioning and cursing every aspect of the American educational establishment. There is something deeply ironic about a man who has attended only one dance in is life (and that only because it was required by the school) having responsibility for planning a dance. Last year's dance ended up a huge success, and it was a great way for me to get to know the students at my new school. True, one almost killed me when a large chunk of two-by-four kicked up from his circular saw, just missing my head, and jammed into a wooden fence twenty feet away. The dent in the fence is a daily reminder my brush with death. Later, the same student gashed his hand with a knife and left a trail of blood across the gym floor. No stitches were needed, and no lawyers were called.

This year could be fun. It will certainly be less stressful. Today my students put together the final ballot of homecoming themes for distribution on Tuesday morning. Once the student body votes on the theme, the real work will begin. I am quite proud of the creativity of this set of students; they have a deep desire to avoid ordering dance-in-box from Stumps.com while creating a unique dance atmosphere. Here is the ballot (I have deleted the school name for the usual reasons):

Homecoming ‘08
1. A Night at the Oasis: Spend an exotic evening under the stars at a Bedouin campsite; warm yourself by the fire, relax in a Bedouin tent, or whirl like a dervish on the dance floor.
2. Winter Wonderland: Winter comes early this year as snow falls on [school name]; think Narnia without the creepy goat man.
3. Bright Lights/Big City: Experience a night downtown among the lights of the towering architectural wonders of New [school name] City.
4. In the Jungle: Jaguars frolic in the undergrowth as macaws and howler monkeys screech in the canopy above; Join Expedition [school name] as they celebrate the discovery of the headwaters of Bobs Creek.
5. Welcome to Area 51: The mysteries of Roswell, NM are revealed for the first time as a UFO crash site becomes the launching pad for the rockingest party this side of Sagittarius.

I am personally hoping for #1 or #5.

Peace

..._

Things They Don't Teach You in Teacher School: #7-10

2008-08-20T21:02:00.006-04:00

7. Very little actual planning occurs during pre-planning. For the most part, pre-planning is designed to be such a rigorous, time-consuming week of meeting after meeting that it is a relief when the students finally show up for class.
8. Administrators will discover new and wonderful tasks for you to do each year to enhance the student experience. These tasks will be required and involve either paperwork or e-work. Administrators have all summer to think up these educational enhancements and only forty hours of pre-planning to explain them all.
9. Administrators will never discover that some tasks no longer need to be done anymore because it turns out that the tasks were wasteful and of little worth.
10. Pray for your administrator. There is a reason that there is a high rate of turnover in school administrators. They are required to juggle the competing demands of parents, teachers, the school board, and students. Teachers are typically the first ball to be dropped by administrators under pressure. Don't take it personally.

#1-3 of this list appear here.
#4-6 of this list appear here.

Peace
..._

I Love Herman Melville

2008-08-19T13:54:00.002-04:00

Sentences like this one make Melville one of the most beloved of assigned high school readings:

"And the thews of Billy were hardly compatible with that sort of sensitive spiritual organization which in some cases instinctively conveys to ignorant innocence an admonition of the proximity of the malign."

--Billy Budd

My school begins tomorrow. I am teaching US history, AP US history and American literature. I am, in fact, excited about this year.

Also, there is a new edition of the Carnival of Georgia Bloggers here. Read and enjoy.

Peace
..._

Feline Feeling Fine=$170.00

2008-08-12T21:07:00.004-04:00

The cat came home from the vet today and is doing just fine.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: A Childhood Down the Drain

2008-08-11T21:00:00.006-04:00

Today we put our eldest two children on the bus to elementary school. Then my wife took the cat to the vet; the cat is still there. The vet has to have a urine sample before he can diagnose her problem; she has a shy bladder. I asked my wife exactly how one goes about getting a urine sample from a cat, but she could not enlighten me. Our fish, Goldie II, died just a couple of weeks ago, and we hope that the same fate is not in store for our dear Kitty.

The kids, however, did come home. Both of the children had good first days. P, our eldest, had a rough year in first grade so I was surprised and pleased when he told me that it was fun and that he liked second grade. It has been entertaining and somewhat disconcerting hearing the conversations that he has had with his younger sister over the past couple of months. She is starting kindergarten and has been insatiably curious. His answers were generally negative. Fortunately, his negativity had not had too much of an impact upon her, and he has tried to be genuinely helpful to her this week.

4boydad aptly described my more melancholy sentiments concerning the first day of school in the last two paragraphs of a post that hooks you with a very funny story then gaffs you in the gut with the knowledge that you too will one day long to return to the heady days of pulling your little one's precious possessions out of an unflushed toilet.

4boydad's story reminded me of another long-ago Lego lost-at-sea disaster story:
Stephen was one of my worst enemies during my elementary years. He lived directly across the street from me. We would sit on our respective driveways and yell insults at each other. I did it because he was different and everyone else treated him that way. He did it because that must have been the way he figured people talked to each other.

Eventually, at my mom's prompting, we became best of friends. Our friendship was not without its setbacks and conflicts. Early in our friendship I called him over to play in the sprinkler. Almost as soon as I set down the phone I saw him running down his driveway to our front yard where our sprinkler put up a valiant fight against the summer's heat. Strange, I thought, he is fully clothed. He began to undress. Perhaps, I thought, his swimsuit is under his clothes. As soon as it was clear that his swimsuit was not, in fact, under his clothers, he began to frolic in the sprinkling drops with nary a stitch of clothing on his body. My father and my sister looked up slack-jawed from the planting in which they were engaged; we three witnesses were struck mute. I stood back on the driveway, unsure how to handle this unexpected turn of events. We were saved when his mother frantically swooped down the driveway with a towel, scooped him and his clothes up, and returned him to his house. I grew up a little that day; I don't think I ever played in the sprinkler again.

I digress. It was, I think, Stephen who got me interested and then addicted to collecting and building with Lego Bricks and Toys. We became obsessed with categorizing our Lego Bricks as common, rare, or extremely rare. We bartered with each other and begged our parents for the latest set with the latest rare piece. Then came Timmy.

Timmy was the neighborhood Eddie Haskell. He was several years older than Stephen and I. He is the first person I remember meeting when we moved into our new house. He was the one that got me to kiss Sarah. Sarah was his younger sister, and she was my age. He liked to watch us kiss. He told us how the French kissed and suggested that the two us give it a try. He wanted to watch. Sitting on the camping trunk in my parent's garage, we tried it. Timmy was not present. I didn't kiss another girl for many years. Later, a kid named Paul gave me a bloody lip so Sarah slugged him.

I digress. Timmy came into possession of what was, he claimed, at the time, the rarest of rare Lego bricks: a 1x1 clear tile. He talked Stephen into trading several pounds of bricks for it. When Stephen told me about it, I told him that he got ripped off, but I was secretly jealous. He let me briefly look at it, but I don't remember if he let me hold it.

That night, when Stephen went for his evening bath, he did as was his wont: he gathered his favorite Lego bricks and took them into the bath with him. He took the 1x1 clear tile with him. It went down the drain and was never seen again.

When he told me about the tragedy the next day, I grew up a little more. Never again did I take my own Lego bricks into the bath without obsessively worrying about losing one. My paranoia became so acute that I soon gave up taking any Lego into the bath. After that, bathing became just another chore.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Like a Cheap Cigar

2008-07-28T20:43:00.003-04:00

Each generation is destined to rise up, challenge, and ultimately prevail over the generation that gave it life, nurtured it, and offered it the world as its inheritance. Each generation finds a new way of challenging the old. It has happened or will happen to many men of my generation in a uniquely humiliating fashion.

Men of my age went to school during the heady beginnings of the digital age. Sure, I took high school keyboarding on an IBM electric typewriter, but a new computer lab was just next door. How can I ever forget the moment when my dad hooked up Pong on a spare TV in the bonus room? When I got home from school I spent much of my time on my Intellivision, my friend's Atari, or, later, a Commodore-64. I took a computer to college. As an adult, I continued playing games, but not as often nor as obsessively as before since the demands of adult living rightfully took precedence over leveling up my Diablo character or building the perfect Sim City.

With delight I introduced the joys and mysteries of gaming to my eldest boy as soon as he was able to hold a PS1 controller. This process was gratifying and ego-building as I, the master, instructed my apprentice in the many ways of defeating a slippery AI or a quick-fingered human opponent.

Two weeks ago my son invited me to play a head t0 head arena battle of Hot Wheels: Beat That! on the PS2. I walked into the room and picked up a controller, wondering, in the interest of avoiding tears, how many time I would have to let him get me before I destroyed him. Thirty seconds later, with the smell of burning flesh and twisted metal rising from my virtual Hot Wheel and my mind still trying to catch up to how in the world he got me, my son informed me that he smoked me like a cheap cigar (had he really learned that from me?). And then came the dance. The victory dance.

Two arena battles later brought no better results. Indeed, after feeling the tell-tale vibration in my controller and seeing my Hot Wheel burst into flame for the fifteenth time, victory was becoming routine for my son. I congratulated him, told him that I was impressed with him, and left the room.

He hasn't said anything to me since then, but I think he knows how big of a moment he just had. Sure, I have let him win past contests, but those victories had always been tempered with the drubbings I gave him before and after his wins. On this day, he had tasted only victory and I, only defeat.

I apologize that I must cut this miscellany short at one item as the kids are in bed and I need to play a few rounds of Hot Wheels Beat That! to figure out how he got me.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Made in China

2008-07-21T22:34:00.005-04:00

I took the seven year old boy and the five year old girl camping last month. On the way to the campground we listened loudly to a children's CD by They Might Be Giants. One of the songs, titled "Where Do They Make Balloons?" runs through a catalog of origins for famous products/items and asks:

Marmalade's from Scotland
Rugs from Pakistan
Mexico has jumping beans
And cars are from Japan

Clowns are from the circus
Barking comes from dogs
Eggs come from a chicken
And log cabins come from logs
But where, where do they make balloons? (where)

My son looked over at his sister and said, "I think they are probably made in a factory in China."

My father, the incarnation of preparation and planning, taught me through his example to check your camping equipment before taking it camping. After last year's camping trip left our tent as a worthless pile of broken fiberglass and sodden canvas, he gave us his old one. Two days before we left, I carefully took out the tent and assembled it in the back yard to make sure that I could assembly it by myself and to seal the seams with seam sealer. The next day, I took it down, bagged it, and put it in my trunk, safe in the knowledge that the tent was in good shape, easily assembled, and relatively waterproof.

Once at the camp site, we began the process of setting up the tent only to find that the two fiberglass support members, without which the tent is merely an elaborate, zippered tarp, were still in the backyard, a hundred miles away. At this point a series of errors in judgement on my part resulted in an excursion to North Carolina, a drive down every road in Blairsville, Georgia, and the three of us sleeping in my Corolla.

The next morning my son vomited. We were home by noon.

Because no one signed up to take summer school for history, I have been watching the entire run of Arrested Development at Hulu and trying to keep the kids from killing each other. I have been more successful at the former than the latter.

Today, my five-year-old daughter lost another tooth. Tomorrow we register her for kindergarten. I don't know what to say about that.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany on a Tuesday

2008-04-29T21:15:00.002-04:00

The doorbell rang on Sunday afternoon. In many households, the sound of a ringing doorbell is a cause for joy or hope; perhaps a friend has dropped by unexpectedly or a neighbor wants to chat. In our household, the sound is an ominous death knell. The two "adults" of the house come up with any excuse to make the other adult answer the door: "Could you get it? I'm in the middle of changing the kitty litter." "Oh, I can't get it right now; I'm juggling a chainsaw, three eggs, a butcher knife, and a neutron bomb." "I'm changing a diaper" (this excuse has the added benefit of having a high probability of being true). "I can't come to the door; I'm deep frying a hot dog." This door answering reluctance most likely originates in the first few months after we purchased our "Handyman's Special" home when we were forced to conclude that our house had lived its previous life as a crack house. We came to this conclusion based upon the steady stream of seedy visitors to our front door, apparently unaware that CrackMart had relocated. That and the bag of tiny Ziploc baggies that I found in the attic over the garage, but that is a story for another day.

The doorbell rang on Sunday afternoon, and I, being slow in coming up with an excuse, was forced to greet the unexpected guest. Fulling expected to be handed a copy of the Watchtower, I took a deep breath and opened the door. Two of the neighborhood girls, with expectant and hopeful faces, held out a tray of wares for sale. It was clear they had rehearsed as one of them began, "Could we interest in you in the purchase of some rocks? They are good for display or collecting." I looked down at the tray of rocks. I was pretty sure I recognized some of the rocks that one of them had collected in my own back yard during my garden work. Most of the rocks appeared to be common quartz crusted with Georgia red clay. I stammered a bit before I finally got out, "Well, I don't think we can use any rocks right now, but I wish you the best of luck in your sale." Yes, I know...I am cold-hearted Scrooge and that kind of entrepreneurial pluck should be rewarded, but there would have been something not quite right about buying my own rocks.

Some quotes from my seniors:
Yesterday: "I don't see cheating as wrong; it is just a way to get ahead."
Today: "College is just about having fun."

From a junior US history test concerning Truman:
"He didn't get a lot done in civil rights, but he did demilitarize the army."

Peace
..._

Visit the Georgia Blog Carnival #32

2008-03-29T18:43:00.002-04:00

The 32nd edition of the Carnival is up here. It is shorter than normal, but there are some great Spring photos.

Peace
..._

Midweek Miscellany: Four Trees, the Wrong Trousers, and a New Five

2008-03-26T21:00:00.000-04:00

It seemed like such a good idea: Plant a tree for each child in our backyard. My seven-year-old son has a silver leaf maple that is now over twenty feet tall. My daughter has redbud that bloomed for the first time last year, but has not grown much lately because of the Georgia drought. I haven't decided which trees will be the twins'. I planted five trees last year, and we will probably wait before assigning trees. Two weeks ago my eldest informed his mom that we can't move until he has grown up and saved enough money to buy our house so he can have the tree. Last week was my Spring Break.

Since my seven-year-old son was not off, I helped get him ready for school each day and walked him to the bus stop. On Thursday I picked out his clothes for him. Something didn't look quite right with the jeans, but we were in a hurry. He came home having had a bad day (he got a red star). His Mom looked at him funny, examined his jeans, and laughed for fifteen minutes. The jeans belonged to his five-year-old sister. I feel like such a heel. I fear that my lack of child-wear savvy was somehow the cause for his red star.

In the true spirit of Miscellany: Some bits concerning my daughter. She has just turned five, which means that she is now in her third year of the terrible twos. She is a sensitive and opinionated child. She has asked me to teach her to read, and she is picking it up very quickly. The flashcards I made for her brother and that he didn't need because he already knew all of the words are coming in handy. A couple of weeks before her birthday, she was setting up her Barbies for a wedding when she realized that something was missing. She asked, "Daddy, are there boy-Barbies?" After telling her that there was such a thing, she asked for a "Wedding boy Barbie" for her birthday. Princess Bride has become one of her favorite movies. In spite of my fumbling attempt to properly raise a girl, she gives excellent and frequent hugs. I look forward each day to the enthusiasm with which she greets me when I return home.

I have shared before some of the unusual google searches that bring people to my blog. Some are slightly icky. Some are funny. Some are so suggestive of a story behind the search that I wish I could contact the person who made the search. Here are some of more interesting recent ones with my comments in italics (I was going to hyperlink each one to each post that it lead to, but I decided that I was much too lazy for something so time intensive):

"going commando school"
"name tag silver magnets"
"jury duty excuse note for teachers"
"changing a child's surname of pumkinhead"
"lego nomenclature"
"does your wife mow the lawn"
"marathon mowing"
"Spring Zephyr"
"how long does Publix keep security tapes"--I really want to know what this person did at Publix to make them so concerned
"letter with curses"
"stomach fat survival"
"goose or pope"--Interesting choice. I favor the pope.
"smartboard hyperbole"--I am probably guilty of a bit of this, but I love my SmartBoard!
"why did I marry a nerd"
"ice age theme of redemption"
"the wiggles get busted for drugs"
"kennesaw mt lord of the flies"--I wonder if the seeker ever found a connection?
"sergent york's achievements"
"what is truett cathy's favorite sport as a kid"
"American English supermarket deli conversation"
"leg braces crippled lover"--Should there be a comma after "braces" or did the braces, in fact, cripple the lover?
"a guy roasting marshmallows on a fire with a tornado"--My personal favorite; I don't know why
"poe, about monkeys"
"tofu grinder"

Peace
..._

The World Is Too Much With Me: A Visit to John's Mountain and Keown Falls

2008-03-26T19:46:00.013-04:00

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
--William Wordsworth

Spring Break came early to my school this year. We were off last week, and I was ready for the break. Teaching is a wearying profession. I do not like to gripe about my chosen profession. I chose to teach and, considering the many benefits of the career, it seems disingenuous to gripe about my every little frustration. Too many teachers seem to have received certification in elementary complaining and secondary whining and can see nothing but the dark side of teaching. They poison the staff room and the blogosphere with bitterness, frustration, and anger. I have learned to avoid the AJC education blog and certain other blogs for this reason. At times I have had to avoid certain teachers for fear that I might become, as my former boss put it, "a disgruntled teacher."

Putting that gripe aside for now, the exhaustion that comes with teaching compounds itself with each pointless meeting, failed lesson plan, nasty e-mail. Every day is a five-hour performance and must be one of commanding a captive audience. A teacher can feel his normal happily gruntled self on the road to losing his gruntle. Students perceive this and a break is often the only thing that can stave off disgruntledness.

So I took one day of my Spring Break and went to the Northwest Georgia mountains. Preferring the Northeast Georgia mountains, I have never spent much time exploring Northwest Georgia. Suspecting that they must be feeling my neglect, and desiring to see something new, I conducted about five minutes of intensive internet research and headed up I-75.

Even when trying to get away from it all, I can't stop thinking about finding things for class so I first made a brief stop at a little antique mall in Calhoun (exit 315, turn right and it is immediately on the right). I purchased a Max Boot book, and headed northwest into the mountains.

I ended up parking at the top of John's Mountain. At the end of a long gravel road is the small parking lot, but I had no trouble finding a parking space as I had the only car there. The trailhead lacked any of the typical directions, mileage, trail information, or bear warnings. Instead there is a stunning overlook facing west, a trail that heads south down the ridgeline, and another trail that plunges down the east face of John's Mountain.

As I emerged from my car, I was nearly overwhelmed by the awesome silence. There was no breeze, and even if there had been one, there was not yet any foliage to rustle. I heard not the buzzing of an insect, nor the cry of a bird, nor the sound of far off people. It is at times like these that I am grateful that I do not possess an I-Pod to drown out the awful silence.

There is something that draws us to falling water, and I wanted to get to Keown Falls but was unsure which trail would lead me there. The online guides that I had read were of little help. I knew the falls are to the southeast of the parking lot; one trail heads east and the other aims south. My mountaineering instinct urged me to take the descending east trail, for falls must fall, but my curiosity wanted to follow the ridgeline so I headed south. The geography of John's Mountain reminds me of Kennesaw Mountain without the bloody history. It has the same mix of trees, lichen-covered outcroppings of gray rock, and openness. Eventually, I came upon the head of a stone lion emerging from the mountain. My wife assures me that I am not just seeing things.

The lion puts me in the mind of Wordsworth's The World is Too Much with Us:

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

Eventually, the trail strikes east to an arm of John's Mountain, and then ambles roughly north while descending in some mild switchbacks and offering some stunning east-facing overlooks. I came to the conclusion that the trail forms a loop. After about an hour hike, I found Keown Falls. The falls do not carry much mass (and, I read, it tends to dry up in late summer), but the descent is dramatic and the viewing platform provides a nice view.

There is signage at the falls. The Pinhoti Trail passes by and another trail leads down the mountain to another parking area. The signs warn all comers of the mortal dangers of slippery rocks and also confirmed that the trail does indeed loop back to the John's Mountain overlook. Access behind the falls, however, is not lethal. The hike back is. The return loop of the trail ascends nearly straight up the mountain and, though shorter than the other arm of the loop, is much more strenuous.

One of the benefits of hiking on a Friday in early Spring: I saw only one other person on John's Mountain (a jogger) and a family at the falls that had hiked up from the valley. Days like these refresh the soul, clear the mind, and grant the body the true rest of the weary. I need more days like these to get restore my gruntle.

I left John's Mountain and drove south down Furnace Valley, discovered a lovely old CCC camp that is now a Forest Service campground called the Pocket, and a promising trout stream called John's Creek. I shall return again with family and a fishing pole.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Pennies, Epics, and Partisan Teachers

2008-03-03T07:00:00.002-05:00

I left school a little early on Friday so I could cash in the high school's Pennies for Patients coins. I fed coins into the CoinStar machine at Kroger for an hour. By the time I was done, my back was aching, my fingers were blackened from many filthy lucres, at least four other CoinStar customers had turned away upon seeing my haul, and $1,320 worth of coins had been donated to Pennies for Patients.

One day, after the 117th time of claiming to be bored, my eldest son was instructed to write a story by his mother. The story concerned an epic underwater battle between a chicken and a spidershark. The sentence construction of the second sentence made me laugh out loud. Here is the entire story for you enjoyment with original spelling and grammar preserved:

1 Day a chicken went under water and rose and sew a spidershark and aimd at the spidershark and hott [hit] the spidershark and the spidershark ate the speer! And back and forth it was. The SS [spidershark] shoot it from it's moth [mouth] soon the SS was dead chicken got a gold metel. The End.

When I first started teaching government I decided to teach the subject as neutrally as possible while attempting to challenge the beliefs of my students. I did not think it would be enlightening to merely parrot those students who agreed with me, nor did I think it would be fair to only attack the beliefs of those students with whom I disagreed. My stance on this generally drives my students crazy. They want to know. Earlier this year a student tried to draw me out by claiming, "You're a liberal. All teachers are liberal, right?" Certainly the most vocal of the teachers at my new school are strong partisan democrats, but I refused to fall into his trap. Early this semester a student asked me why so many people hate Hillary Clinton. I spent about twenty minutes discussing partisanship, politics in America, the history of the Clinton family, and the importance of judging people and issues for yourself. That night she left this comment on the class blog:

I just wanted to say that our discussion today in class gave me a whole new perspective on politicians. Thanks Mr. C!
Last spring, I enthusiastically supported Clinton for president (because I really wanted a woman president) however when I shared my enthusiasm with some of my fellow students and teachers, they showed an immense dislike and maybe even hatred towards the woman. Therefore, I began to falter and came to really dislike her too. I had no idea why I disliked her, but just because everyone seemed to, I did too. They said she was a witch and other bad stuff and so I thought so too, which is pretty shallow. But then again, I only supported her in the beginning because she was a woman.
But after today, I stopped 'conforming' and decided to actually think about some of my beliefs and decisions. Instead of listening to other people's opinions about the person, I've actually started to look into the different policies and beliefs the candidates supported and etc. Hmm, I kind of feel smarter now. :P
Thanks again~

Peace
..._

Fun with the US Senate!

2008-03-01T07:01:00.007-05:00

Patiently waiting to be graded, the tests are in my briefcase by the front door. There are times I just want a unit to go on and on because of the simple fact that I despise grading tests and ending a unit means giving a test. My unit on the legislative branch finished up this week; in this case I didn't want the unit to end because it was so much fun.

We started with a screening of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. I used to be nervous before showing Mr. Smith as there was no way to know how students would respond to it. One, it is old. Two, it is in black and white (every time I show it a student blurts out in the first ten seconds in a voice of painful despair, "Is this in black and white?"). Third, it is about the U.S. Senate. Fourth, it has moments of such unflinching patriotism as to seem propagandistic by today's standards (in fact, Frank Capra would go on to direct the Why We Fight series for the War Department during World War II). After a few showings, I now know how students will respond: the majority of the class always ends up liking it, some students end up loving it, a few are bored to tears, and the entire class is disappointed at the abrupt ending (according to IMDB, the ending was cut down after a test screening).

Now that the movie had inspired the students, we went to my week-long senate simulation. This was only the second time I used this simulation, but I was encouraged that a plurality of the students agreed when a student asked, "Why can't we just keep doing this?" In retrospect, I suppose that could have just been a implicit criticism of my lectures.

The last major activity of the unit involved exploring Thomas. Thomas is the searchable Library of Congress database of legislative activity. I found it by accident while exploring the official website of the US Senate. On a whim and utilizing my SmartBoard, I took my students to Thomas and searched for the legislative records of John McCain, Hillary Clinton, and Barack Obama. My students found the results shocking.

Hillary Clinton has sponsored or cosponsored 152 pieces of legislation this term.
Barack Obama has sponsored or cosponsored 113 pieces of legislation this term.
John McCain has sponsored or cosponsored 37 pieces of legislation this term.
On the surface, my students concluded that it looks like Clinton is a serious legislator and McCain is a no-show. Then they read through the bill summaries.

My students concluded that:
Clinton is a legislative lightweight, sponsoring bills such as
S.CON.RES.10 : A concurrent resolution honoring and praising the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People on the occasion of its 98th anniversary.
S.CON.RES.26 : A concurrent resolution recognizing the 75th anniversary of the Military Order of the Purple Heart and commending recipients of the Purple Heart for their courageous demonstrations of gallantry and heroism on behalf of the United States.
S.CON.RES.27 : A concurrent resolution supporting the goals and ideals of "National Purple Heart Recognition Day".
S.RES.20 : A resolution recognizing the uncommon valor of Wesley Autry of New York, New York.
S.RES.92 : A resolution calling for the immediate and unconditional release of soldiers of Israel held captive by Hamas and Hezbollah.
S.RES.176 : A resolution recognizing April 30, 2007, as "National Healthy Schools Day".
S.RES.222 : A resolution supporting the goals and ideals of Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month.
Obviously, this is a stacked selection and most of these types of bills fall at the top of her list while later bills are much more serious.

My students concluded that Barack Obama was driven by one interest:
S.CON.RES.5 : A concurrent resolution honoring the life of Percy Lavon Julian, a pioneer in the field of organic chemistry and the first and only African-American chemist to be inducted into the National Academy of Sciences.
S.CON.RES.25 : A concurrent resolution condemning the recent violent actions of the Government of Zimbabwe against peaceful opposition party activists and members of civil society.
S.CON.RES.44 : A concurrent resolution expressing the sense of Congress that a commemorative postage stamp should be issued honoring Rosa Louise McCauley Parks.
S.CON.RES.46 : A concurrent resolution supporting the goals and ideals of Sickle Cell Disease Awareness Month.
S.RES.133 : A resolution celebrating the life of Bishop Gilbert Earl Patterson.
S.RES.268 : A resolution designating July 12, 2007, as "National Summer Learning Day".
S.RES.383 : A resolution honoring and recognizing the achievements of Carl Stokes, the first African-American mayor of a major American city, in the 40th year since his election as Mayor of Cleveland, Ohio.
These are the first seven items on Obama's list. Like Clinton, he sponsored more serious legistation later in the term, but "National Summer Learning Day?" What?

Finally, my students concluded that despite McCain's relatively small sponsorship of bills, McCain is a serious legislator.
S.32 : A bill to reform the acquisition process of the Department of Defense, and for other purposes.
S.83 : A bill to provide increased rail transportation security.
S.84 : A bill to establish a United States Boxing Commission to administer the Act, and for other purposes.
S.85 : A bill to amend the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 1968 to clarify that territories and Indian tribes are eligible to receive grants for confronting the use of methamphetamine.
S.86 : A bill to designate segments of Fossil Creek, a tributary to the Verde River in the State of Arizona, as wild and scenic rivers.
S.166 : A bill to restrict any State from imposing a new discriminatory tax on cell phone services.
S.192 : A bill providing greater transparency with respect to lobbying activities, and for other purposes.
S.327 : A bill to authorize the Secretary of the Interior to conduct a special resource study of sites associated with the life of Cesar Estrada Chavez and the farm labor movement.
According to my students, even serious legislators have to occasionally sponsor light legislation like S.327.

As we were wrapping up the discussion, I told my students that light legislation is the bulk of legislation proposed by our esteemed members of Congress. They were genuinely angry and disappointed that so much time is wasted on feel-good resolutions. I a fit of hyperbole I assured my students that I was sure that some Congressman had introduced a bill glorifying the chili dog. They challenged me so I turned to Thomas, confidant that something would turn up. No dog, but this bill on chili, reproduced in whole for your enjoyment:

101st CONGRESS
2d Session
H. J. RES. 465
To provide for the designation of chili as the official food of the United States of America.
IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
January 30, 1990
Mr. INHOFE introduced the following joint resolution; which was referred to the Committee on Post Office and Civil Service
JOINT RESOLUTION
To provide for the designation of chili as the official food of the United States of America.
Whereas chili is an indigenous American cuisine that was created, refined, and approaches perfection only in the United States;

Whereas chili enjoys a universal popularity throughout the width and breadth of this great land that is unequalled by other American foods;

Whereas chili is a succulent, distinctive blending of meats and spices that has economically nourished countless millions of Americans since its historic inception in the nineteenth century;
Whereas chili's composition encompasses the best ingredients and hospitable traditions of the varied cultures that have been blended in the American melting pot experience;

Whereas chili's acclaim transcends America's regional and ethnic culinary favorites;

Whereas chili is a truly egalitarian cuisine whose vast popularity prevails with American people of every economic and social strata, unifying gastronomes and those with more proletarian palates as its devotees;

Whereas chili embraces the highly individualistic traits of America's heritage through its infinite varieties, highly personalized blending of ingredients, and many adaptive uses;

Whereas the state of the art of chili preparation has been signifcantly advanced in recent years through the phenomenal growth of a stimulus for culinary excellence known as chili cookoffs, which are unique, convivial festivals held in every State of the Union that often raise many thousands of dollars for deserving charities as an ancillary benefit;

Whereas chili is a definitive food whose hearty, committed character embodies the robust and indomitable American spirit; and

Whereas in view of the foregoing facts and of precedent whereby other appropriate national symbols of history, culture, and patriotism, such as the bald eagle, the rose, the Star-Spangled Banner anthem and the Stars and Stripes flag, have been declared official representatives of Americana: Now, therefore, be it

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That chili be designated as the official food of this great Nation and that the President is authorized and requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the people of the United States to commemorate this designation with appropriate celebrations throughout our land.

Note: Congressman Inhofe spelled "siginifcantly" wrong, and Blogger doesn't know how to spell "Barack" or "Obama."
Peace
..._

The 30's and 40's in Color

2008-01-23T15:10:00.000-05:00

I came across the Library of Congress's Flickr account today. I was already aware of their significant online collections, but I was astounded at the quality of pictures they have posted on Flickr. They have two collections: News in the 1910s and 1930s and 1940s in color. The color photographs are a beautiful melding of historical content, rich color, and the photographic arts. Color photography was fairly rare during that period, and these offer a stunning mirror of that lost time. The photographers appear to have been more than snapshot takers; many of the pictures rise to the level of art.

The below woman aircraft worker (1942) speaks for itself:

The above photograph is one of my favorites. It is At the Vermont State Fair1941 by Jack Delano. From the matching sets of dresses to the boy in the middle who seems to need to go the bathroom, it is a lovely vignette. I find it interesting that everyone in the family is looking in a different direction as though trying to figure out where to go first, or perhaps waiting for dad and no one notices the photographer. Is the lady in black pregnant with the eighth?

I encourage you to go there, but be warned that there are over 3,000 photographs and you may spend more time there than you intended.

Peace
..._

Snow Days

2008-01-21T15:05:00.000-05:00

We had snow on Wednesday evening and Saturday. It was my daughter's first snow, and she had a grand time. My eldest son claims to remember making footprints in the snow when he was two; it's quite possible he does.

We:

Made a snowman

Had a snowball fight

Played orcs and kings (I was the king)

Caught snow on our tongues

Had a child fall on the sidewalk and acquire a bloody knuckle and a knot on his forehead (the youngest twin)

Had hot chocolate

Froliced until our faces were red and our fingers were numb

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany:

2008-01-14T20:34:00.000-05:00

Is there any better time for teaching high school government than right now? I didn't think so.

On the first day back from the break I surveyed my honors and college prep government classes. Of the thirty students, five were planning on voting for Ron Paul. No other candidate received more than one commitment. Paul has had a surprising resonance with the young. Part of it has been powerful grass roots involvement of his supporters on the internet. I will not dare to speculate on other reasons for his followers among the young.

I have been busy working on a blog that I created for my honors government class. You can go and check it out here if you wish. It is the first time I have attempted a class blog; my previous school blocked any and all blogs and well as most of the rest of the internet. Now that I have access and a subject that lends itself to the immediacy of the internet, I couldn't help but give it a try. My students are required to read it weekly and to post a comment to any post that begins with "For Discussion." So far it has been a useful tool.

While working on my government blog, I looked up the term "blowback" to determine its exact etymology and connotation. I came across this definition at Dictionary.com (emphasis mine):
Webster's New Millennium™ Dictionary of English
Main Entry: blowback
Part of Speech: n
Definition: an unintended adverse reaction or effect from an action or cause, especially political
Example: The blowback of Bush's ill-made decisions will last for many years.
Etymology: 1968
Usage: also written blow-back
Webster's New Millennium™ Dictionary of English, Preview Edition (v 0.9.7)Copyright © 2003-2008 Lexico Publishing Group, LLC

The example given by the editors at Webster's New Millennium Dictionary of English provided my class with a nice example of the prevalence of bias. Whether accurate or not, the example is a politically charged one and has no place in dictionary.

During a lecture today on the Spanish-American War, I exclaimed, "Butcher Weyler didn't get sent to Cuba to sell rump-roasts to the locals; he came with a mandate to put the Cubans in line." I don't know why I said it, but I did. My students gave me hard time about it and were convinced that I spent some time thinking about and planning the line. I didn't, but I made a note of it for next year.

My eldest son turned seven this past weekend. Happy Birthday son. Here he is firing off the new Nerf-type Bazooka he got for Christmas.

Peace
..._

No Hand Shows!

2007-12-13T07:27:00.000-05:00

Finally, someone stood up to the idiotic "hand show" debate questions! At yesterday's Iowa dabate, Fred Thompson refused to raise his hand as an answer to a global warming question saying, "I'm not doing hand shows today." Hopefully, this will put that type of question forever to rest (the "hand show" question, not the global warming question). "Hand show" questions were never designed to inform voters on the complex issues confronting a president, they were carefully worded "gotchas." Maybe some seriousness can return to the debate format. If only someone had done this at the first debate...

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Diamonds or Pearls Before Swine

2007-12-03T13:55:00.000-05:00

My six-year-old boy got into trouble at school the other day (he's been doing that a lot lately). After talking to the teacher, his mother asked him, "Did you hit a little girl on the rear end with a ruler?" His reply, "No, she's the tallest girl in class."

Every year I give a test on which I assess student learning concerning the 1820's-1850's. Every year my students jumble the events of the Mexican War and the Texas War for Independence into an incomprehensible mash of historical nonsense. Every year I try teaching it different. I finished grading this year's test last night. It was no different. Also, note to self: make sure to explain to high school juniors that the Underground Railroad was not "like a subway."

The CNN presidential debates have been awful. It makes me embarrassed to teach US Government. I could understand MTV asking "Boxers or Briefs", but "Pearls or Diamonds?" At least we have had some good discussion topics. Most of my students recognize how inappropriate many of the questions have been. I think the YouTube debate format was insipid, but YouTube has become one of my favorite teaching tools. Need a video to demonstrate Ben Franklin's Glass Armonica?...here it is! Need Pearls or Diamonds question and answer?...here it is! Need James K. Polk by They Might be Giants?...here it is!

Peace
..._

What is a "Splitcat Chintzibobs?"

2007-11-13T14:58:00.001-05:00

As I am sure most of you have figured out, "Splitcat Chintzibobs" is a nom de plume. I got the name from a book I read while in college, "The Autobiography of G.K. Chesterton." The pertinent passage comes from Chapter 8. Here it is:

It was in connection with this last line of journalistic adventure that an incident occurred of greater public, indeed of a certain historic importance. It is not only a landmark in the history of the law, but it throws a lurid light on that curious lawlessness which, in many modern matters, seems to be the principal effect of law. My sister-in-law was contributing to a Sunday paper in serial form one of these gravely, not to say brazenly, romantic romances. In this case something brazen, in the sense of something theatrical and even pantomimic, was perfectly appropriate to the theme, for the villain on whom the tale revolved was represented as a theatrical producer on a colossal scale like that of Cochran or Reinhardt. He was represented as doing various unscrupulous things, as is the humble duty of a bad man in what is only meant to be a good story; but not otherwise of any extraordinary depravity, and even adorned with something of the magnanimity suitable to melodrama. I fear I have forgotten his name; perhaps, as the sequel will prove, it is just as well. But let us suppose, for the sake of argument or narrative, that his name in the story was Arthur Mandeville. Now it so happened that there floated about somewhere in the great dust-cloud of atoms drifting round theatrical circles and occasionally or indirectly connected with theatrical or semi-theatrical enterprises, utterly unknown to anybody connected with the serial or the Sunday paper, a private individual whose name actually was Arthur Mandeville. He was not even an actor in any sense of an actor in action; he was certainly not a manager in any ordinary sense of having any theatre to manage; he was no more in any position remotely resembling that of the man in the story than he was the Sultan or the President of the United States. But he was a man who had once, in a series of other small enterprises, paid salaries to some small company of performers and given some small show somewhere. This man brought an action for heavy damages against the paper, on the ground of a malicious and vindictive blasting of his private reputation; and he won it.

The extraordinary thing was that nobody, from first to last, pretended that there had been any attack upon this man at all. The judge, in giving his judgment in the man's favour, upon the law of the matter, repeatedly declared that it had been proved up to the hilt that the lady who wrote the story had never even heard of the gentleman who she was supposed to have pursued with her envenomed darts. But the judge was none the less convinced that, as the law stood, the two coincidences of the name and of some shadowy and temporary point of contact with a similar profession, were enough to constitute a case of libel. A considerable section of the literary world awoke to this state of affairs in a condition of not unnatural alarm. It looked as if the trade of the novelist might well be classed among the dangerous trades, if he could not casually call the drunken sailor by the name of Jack Robinson, without some danger of being fined and sold up by all the Jack Robinsons who may happen to be sailing, or to have sailed, all the seas of the world. The ancient question of what should be done with the drunken sailor, if he invariably took a fancy to avenging himself legally upon anybody who should say "Jack Robinson," gave rise to some considerable literary and journalistic discussion at the time.

I remember, in the course of the controversy, that I suggested that we should have to fall back on some alternative to names, such as numbers, in describing the ringing repartees leading up to the duel in which the subtle and crafty 7991 died upon the sword of the too-impetuous 3893; or the vows breathed by the passionate lips of 771 in the ear of 707. But another way of evading the difficulty, to which I was much more attached, was that of equipping all the characters with names so extraordinary, that it was practically impossible that they could be the real names of any real people anywhere; and by way of illustration I wrote a moving love-scene between Bunchusa Blutterspangle and Splitcat Chintzibobs. Fortunately, for general journalistic convenience, my proposals were not accepted; and a much more practical proposal, invented by my sister-in-law, was carried out with complete success. She republished the whole story in book form; and before doing so went round to a number of leading literary men of the day, especially those she knew best, and obtained their permission to use their names for all the characters in the book; retaining her own name, as a graceful acknowledgment, as the name of the original villain. Anyone curious enough to look up that curiosity of literature, will find the most famous persons figuring on every other page in the humblest or most improbable capacities; a dear old stage-door keeper of the name of Bernard Shaw, a cabman known to his comrades in the cab-shelter as Barry Pain, and many others whom I forget. Some little time afterwards, I think, this extraordinary condition of the law was altered, in a typically English manner; that is, not by anything so logical and pedantic as a new law, but simply by another judge saying that the law meant the exact opposite of what the first judge had said it meant. But this queer little affair has some relevance to more real problems that arose, when we found ourselves more seriously engaged in the same strange field of modern British legalism.

Peace
..._

Christmas Door Decorating Contest! Veterans' Day Edition

2007-11-12T18:01:00.000-05:00

I have had an abnormally large number of "hits" from people googling some variation of "Christmas Door Decorating Contest." Those hits have taken people to my post from last year entitled "Door Into Winter" in which I describe my first foray into decorating my classroom door. I lost that year and the next but won some kind of prize for every year after that.

In hopes that someone will find this information helpful, here are the other doors I have done.

One year a student brought in a stuffed and mounted buck's head. We put a red nose on it, mounted it on the door, and posted a statement, "1st Period US History: Doing
our part to restore the true meaning of Christmas." There was also a "hit" list of reindeer names with Rudolph's name checked off and a picture of Santa with a "no" sign through it. It was in incredibly poor taste but won for most creative. Read more about it here.

My favorite door was the last one we did (I posted about it here). It was very simple but very heartfelt and meaningful. We cut out a large, Christmas tree from green construction paper. We then hotglued (can that be used as a verb?) red and green spice drops on to the paper as ornaments. Then we stuck a toothpick in each spice drop. From each toothpick we hung a simple white ornament with a yellow ribbon tied around it and the name of a foreign country written upon it. We then posted a statement saying:

Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Christmas Tree

This year, as hundreds of thousands of US troops are deployed around the world, it is our hope that you will take a moment to pause and reflect on the sacrifices made by these brave men and women. Many of them will be putting their lives in danger throughout the Christmas season. All of them would prefer to be home with their families. Few of them will have a Silent Night. Some of them will die.

We ask that you would take one of these ornaments for your own tree at home. Each one has the name of a country where US troops are presently deployed. The yellow ribbon has not only become a symbol of the desire for all of our troops to return home safely, but will also draw the eye to this uncharacteristic color for a Christmas tree. When you see this ornament, we ask that you say a short prayer for the safety of our troops, the protection of their families, and peace to all.

We also ask that you take the time to read a sampling of letters from troops away from their homes at Christmas during the American Civil War.
Finally, we ask for a renewed dedication to the preservation of our civil liberties and our unique American heritage so that these sacrifices shall not have been in vain.

I was saddened to discover that that was to be the last year that we had a contest. I was planning on doing the same thing every year. I wish I could still do it. If you wish to use this idea, please do and let me know. I would be thrilled to see this become a tradition somewhere.

Peace

..._

Fun and Pumpkicide

2007-10-31T21:15:00.000-04:00

The entire western half of the neighborhood must have heard the cry of anguish, "Why did they do it?" The six-year-old in a pirate suit had just returned with a large haul of sugary booty from a harvest festival at a local church. Everyone had been generous, kind, and patient at the festival, and now he had come home to find his and his sister's carved jack-o-lanterns cast down and crushed by the front door. His cyclopean beast was cracked in half and upside down. His parent's explanations that people are sometimes simply cruel left him befuddled and as crushed as his creation. A misguided offer by one parent to keep them inside next year was met with the boy's exasperated but wise, "But then no one will see it. Maybe we can put them in something to keep them safe. We can use superglue."

An offer of some candy distracted him temporarily from the tragedy, but the lesson will be there. The world is cruel, and it is safer inside. One can only hope that despite this incident, he will always remain brave enough to offer his work where others might see it.

Peace

..._

We've Got Spirit, How 'Bout You?

2007-10-23T18:34:00.000-04:00

As student government sponsor, I have the privilege of planning the homecoming dance for our school, so for the past few weeks I have been swamped with preparations for the dance. The dance was held last Saturday, went very well, and now I have my life back. I don't get paid any extra for this part of my job though I will be asking for more next year.

Two Fridays ago was our game against our arch-rivals, my former school. I was obligated to go and took the two eldest children. It was a beautiful evening, but my former school was too much for my new one. By halftime the game was becoming a blowout. Just before halftime some of my former students found their way over to our sidelines and said hello. This was met by icy stares from my current students.

One of my former students asked me if I had seen the sign. "What sign?" I asked. The one that some of my former students were holding up saying, "Give us Mr. Chintzibobs back!" I laughed and told them to get back to their side of the field before they got me into trouble.

They left, but others showed up. That's when I heard a cheer I had never heard before and shall probably never hear again. Our cheerleaders were shouting out as loud as they could, "We've got Chintzibobs...We've got Chintzibobs." The student section picked it up and joined in. Then they tried to get me to come down to the sideline to show me off like some kind of trophy. Luckily for me, I the two kids with me and couldn't leave them behind.

When I got home and told my wife about it, she laughed at me and said, "I'll bet you never thought that cheerleaders would be chanting your name."

I guess all of your best moments don't necessarily happen in high school.

Peace
..._

Carnival of Georgia Bloggers

2007-09-29T07:31:00.000-04:00

The 19th carnival of Georgia Bloggers is up at Georgia on My Mind. Read and enjoy.

I've been on a school retreat this week. I had a cabin full of freshmen. I caught them drinking energy drinks at midnight. It was a long night, but overall the retreat was a fun experience. The facility is a gorgeous camp nestled in a cove near Jaspar, GA.
Peace
..._

12th Anniversary Trip

2007-09-16T22:40:00.000-04:00

Today is our 12th Anniversary. If someone had told me on that rainy September evening twelve years ago what our lives would be like now, I am sure I wouldn't have believed it. To be more accurate, I am sure I couldn't have conceived it. I used to be limited to thinking only about a month ahead. Now I alternate between thinking a meal ahead and twenty years in the future while trying to concentrate on enjoying every moment that I can. We have been immensely blessed, and I am sure that I still cannot conceive of what the next years may hold or what life will look like in twelve years, but I am certain that my wife shall still be by my side, and I shall be by hers.

We celebrated our anniversary with an exciting trip to the park. It was a lovely early fall day: windy, humid, and alternately too warm and too cool. We had a splendid time.

Photo Caption: Someday this will all be mine

Peace

..._

Things They Don't Teach You in Teacher School: #4-6

2007-09-10T19:22:00.000-04:00

4. Someone will always ask for the answer of a question that you just answered. At any given time you will be lucky if one-third of the students are actually listening.
Example:
Teacher: Chapter one will be on the test. Any questions?
Student: Will chapter one be on the test?

5. Many students can send a text-message without ever taking their phone out of their pocket.

6. There are 180 days on the calendar. You might get to actually use about 160 of them. You will lose days for: the day before a major holiday (just forget about it), altered schedules, half-days, field days, field trips, early dismissals for sports, special "assemblies", testing, festivals, retreats, and many other creative ways that schools have of counting something as a school day without any actual instruction going on.

Peace
..._

Things They Don't Teach You In Teacher School: #1-3

2007-09-05T17:32:00.000-04:00

In no particular order:

#1 On many days, you are the only one in your class that wants to be there. For all of the rest of the days, even you don't want to be there.

#2 Some students have an endless supply of grandparents; they tend to die or get rushed to the hospital around major tests and projects.

#3 Biology 101: Students trying to put on muscle consume a lot of protein. Over-consumption of protein can create digestive distress. There will be parts of your classroom that you will learn to avoid. Many students are not nearly as embarrassed by their exhaust fumes as they should be; to some it is an immense source of pride.

Peace
..._

2007-09-02T07:46:00.000-04:00

I went out to my garden to check on these... And almost stumbled right into this...
It is good that I didn't stumble into it, I thought, as I saw what she did to things that wandered into her net...
No, I haven't killed her...
But I am not sure how I am going to pick my tomatoes.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Reading, Lechery, and Treason

2007-08-27T18:46:00.000-04:00

My eldest son (now six) needed speech therapy when he was younger. We worried about his lack of vocabulary, trouble with pronunciation, and difficulty constructing sentences. The county agreed with us. Like most parents, we fretted about our first child's lack of communication skills. After a year of preschool speech therapy, he had improved immensely (though he rarely talked with his tutor). After last year's kindergarten, he had made great strides and had learned to read. To our great joy he has become a lover of reading. At open house this year, his teacher suggested downloading the first grade sight words and making flashcards out of them. So I did. He knew them all. So I downloaded the 2nd grade sight words. He knew them all. So I downloaded the 3rd grade sight words. He knew them all. He wants me to download the 4th grade sight words, but there aren't any. I had a nightmare last night that he was almost as tall as his momma. I guess he can slow down a little.

Here is some of his folk art from last year. I laugh each time I notice the belt. Now I just worry that there is lead in these toys.

Last week was my new school's open house. Parents come and go through their child's schedule; each class lasts ten minutes. The teachers are supposed to introduce themselves and hit the highlights of their courses. I have now done a lot of these events. They are long and exhausting (coming at the end of a normal school day--I was at school on that day from 6:30am to 9:30pm). I have also perfected a few of my punch lines (it puts the both the parents and me at ease). One relates to my alma mater. I graduated from Georgia Southern University I tell them. And no, it is not true that the transcript includes a place for B.A.C. instead of G.P.A.

I have never felt that I can just say where I graduated from and leave it at that. I have to acknowledge that elephant in the room: GSU has a reputation as a major party school. Students who don't make it into UGA often end up at GSU. I teach at a Christian school and don't want the parents to assume that I am one of "those." So I usually go on to explain that all colleges are party schools and that students will find whatever they are looking for in college. Every college (even the tiniest of Christian colleges hidden away in the mountains) has those who double major in drunkenness and debauchery. College is frequently one of the first extended character tests that young people face. I typically teach juniors and seniors, and these observations seem to both worry and reassure the parents. They are reassured that their child's teacher was not a partier, but they worry that their child will soon become one.

A political note on the Iraq war: At one point the Democratic talking point was simply, "Bush lied; people died." The Republican talking point was simply, "Dems want to cut and run." There was and continues to be no substantive debate concerning the war. The political discourse is currently more of a quagmire than Iraq is. The problem with both of these slogans is that both are merely attacks on the opposition as opposed to plans for a way forward. Both sides claim that attacking one's patriotism is verboten, but I say that any politician that puts political gain before country is acting in an unseemly and unpatriotic manner.

Peace
..._

"A" is for...?

2007-08-20T21:41:00.000-04:00

Schools these days are less and less likely to be named for historical figures, but on May 23 the school board of Ogden, Utah approved naming a new elementary school: James A. Madison Elementary School. Trouble is, James Madison didn't have an "A" for his middle initial. He didn't even have a middle name to be initialized. A history teacher pointed out the error before the school's sign was completed.

The full story is here.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: In with the New!

2007-08-19T20:26:00.001-04:00

The ancient Greeks would look to nature for signs before the beginning of an enterprise great or small. The flight of a bird could portend greatness or warn of coming disaster. Before dawn on the morning of the first day at my new school, I opened the front door of my house to begin my commute. I felt something bump into my shoulder and then into my head as I began to step out through the door. I jumped back to see a plump arachnid spinning only inches from my eyes. This was the very worst of omens, if not for the ancient Greeks at least for this modern American. You can read about my earlier experiences with what I term "Spiderfall" here.

Later that day I introduced myself to my classes. My new school is the main rival of my old school, and I knew I had to get the fact that I was coming from their cross-town rival out and over with as quickly as possible. I revealed my dark secret in different ways to my five different classes. In one class I said, "For the past six years I have been teaching at another local private school," when a girl exclaimed, "As long as it isn't [the name of my old school]."

In truth, it was a pretty good week. While my move to a new school has been mostly a horizontal move, there is much more vertical potential, and the leadership is much more gifted in, well, leadership. I also get a new benefit: free hot lunches. I was, at first, skeptical of the value of this benefit, but the first week's menu has me excited to go to work everyday if not for the students at least for the food. There is always a salad bar, sandwich bar, hot soup, choice of Mayfield frozen treats, and two entrees. By Tuesday's Blackened Flounder with Rice Pilaf, I was happy I made my move. I think this a job in which I can really grow.

We went to a local mega-church Sunday. My wife and kids have been before, but today was my first day. It is a huge institution. It takes some time to get everyone where they belong. Everyone was very nice and the twenty-minute Sunday school lesson was good. But on the way out, I realized that we had spent at least twice as much time walking around, signing the kids into things, and picking the kids up from things than we did learning about the Word of God. I have trouble getting past the fact that there is valet parking for pre-school.

My son just came downstairs to let me know that he had just finished reading the Bible. He has been working on a Toddler Bible for the past three days. It has a picture and one or two sentences per page. There are over 400 pages.

Peace
..._

The Twins Turn One

2007-08-15T18:18:00.001-04:00

Are they really related?

W takes his first bite of a cupcake.

M tries to eat the entire cupcake in one bite.

One year ago today, the second of the twin boys scared me by emerging motionless and blue. Now he is a healthy and round one year old though still often motionless. Sometimes we are shocked by how different the two of them are. My fears of not being able to tell them apart are long past.

Here is who they are at one year old:

W (the first born)
Dark complexion, dark hair
One wild curl behind his right ear
Eats anything
Strong and wiry
Climbs everything
An escape artist
Blue-eyed
Throws himself into everything
Goes over things instead of around them
Has begun to put a toy to his ear as though it is a phone
Has taken a few tentative steps
Has started to get his leg stuck in his crib
Loves TV
Enjoys making noise
Impresses the family with pull ups on the pack & play
Prefers to hop
Laughs easily and quickly
Ticklish all over

M (the second born)
Light, pale complexion
Very light brown, thin hair
Picky, demanding, and voracious eater
A gentle giant
Sees no reason to escape
Blue-eyed
Studies things before deciding to touch
Goes around things
Has learned to wave this week
Has taken a few tentative steps
Makes some really entertaining attempts at clapping
Loves his momma
Prefers to sway
Only ticklish in the right places at the right time

VIDEO and my wife's commentary here.

Peace

..._

The Fyring Therof!

2007-08-14T18:52:00.000-04:00

Today was the first full day of teaching at my new school. I used the Smart Board in each of my five classes, and I think I will find it a big help. While doing some research for my AP US History class, I came across the full text of The Book of the General Lawes and Libertyes Concerning the Inhabitants of the Massachusets (1648). It was a document that put legal rights and responsibilities in alphabetical order from "actions" to "torture." It provides an illuminating glimpse of early Puritan Massachusetts. Shuffleboard and Anabaptists were banned. I was surprised to see that the wrangling over public smoking goes back so far in American history though the primary worry of the Puritans seems more practical than moral:

Tobacco.
This Court finding that since the repealing of the former Laws against Tobacco, the same is more abused then before doth therfore order,
That no man shall take any tobacco within twenty poles of any house, or so neer as may indanger the same, or neer any Barn, corn, or hay-cock as may occasion the fyring therof, upon pain of ten shillings for everie such offence, besides full recompence of all damages done by means therof. Nor shall any take tobacco in any Inne or common Victualing-house, except in a private room there, so as neither the Master of the said house nor any other Guests there shall take offence therat, which if any doe, then such person shall forthwith forbear, upon pain of two shillings sixpence for everie such offence. And for all Fines incurred by this Law, one half part shall be to the Informer the other to the poor of the town where the offence is done.

Peace
..._

Beach Boys

2007-08-01T21:16:00.001-04:00

I am back from the beach while the rest of the family stays until Saturday. There is a lot to tell, but I have to be up early for pre-planning so here are a few pictures. It was the first time at the beach for the twins and my four-year-old daughter.

Above: First Wave
Below: Asleep in the Gulf

Above: Loving the Sand
Below: Loving the Water

Above: Cautious Boy
Below: At the National Museum for Naval Aviation

More over at Flickr.

Peace
..._

Pre-Planning Miscellany

2007-07-28T16:06:00.000-04:00

School starts on August 13 at my new school. Since I am new there, I have to report on August 2 for two days of new faculty orientation. I have a lot to do between now and then so, naturally, I am going to the beach for a few days. I received my preliminary class rosters today, and if things stay the same, I will only have 47 students in my five classes (public school teachers typically have between 100-150). I can live with that grading load, but my Civil War class only has two students and my AP US history class has only five. I find that anything less than twelve makes for a challenging dynamic. Students tend to either get way too self-conscious or too comfortable in a small class. Our pre-planning schedule looks to be quite rigorous. My main complaint with my pre-planning experiences of late is that they mostly involve sitting for hours listening to someone else talk (a lot like what our students have to go through everyday) and very little "planning." In the past few years I have noticed that teachers (myself included) are the massive whiners and complainers. We also tend to be obnoxious know-it-alls (myself included). I have committed to being more positive this year.

I got my AP scores a few weeks ago: My AP US class got seven 5's (the highest possible score) out of sixteen students (44%). I am very pleased with that. One of my students sent me a postcard from Scotland where he is attending a Scottish history program at St Andrews to thank me (he got a five). Technically, he wrote, "I got a 5 woo-hoo." In light of my new commitment to positivity, I would rather not discuss the results of my AP European class.

We are going to Pensacola tomorrow so there will probably be no posts until Wednesday. I have three books I need to read by Thursday.

Peace
..._

Kennesaw Mountain, GA, continued

2007-07-27T11:54:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I reported some ads from the April 27, 1861 edition of Harper's Weekly. The ads were of some basic categories: healing balms, offers for selling agents, pianos, clothing, and a couple of items that reflected the national crisis: an illustrated guide to national leaders and some military/tactical handbooks. Today I give you some ads from the July 23, 1864 edition of Harper's Weekly. By the way, copies of all editions of Harper's Weekly can be acquired through the Alexander Street Press and Harpweek.com has a number of online themed selections.

Notice that while many ads are similar to the 1861 ads, there is a distinct change in content of the advertising. Only two of the twenty-eight ads in 1861 edition have any connection to the crisis of Union, while nineteen of fifty-five of the ads in the 1864 edition can be connected to the Civil War. The significant jump in number of ads is also of interest. My comment are in italics.

FISK & HATCH,
Bankers and Dealers in Government Securities.
No. 38 Wall Street, New York.

There a two other ads similar to this. Most of the war was paid for by through government borrowing, creating a vast market for government securities. However, borrowing was not enough and the 1862 Revenue Act created our first income tax and the Office of Internal Revenue.

PRESIDENTIAL
Campaign Medals.
Of every description now read in Pin and Medal. Trade orders solicited and promptly filled at Factory prices. Wholesale Depot Campaign Medal Co., 436 Broadway, N.Y.

Several similar ads including one for Fremont medals: Free Speech, Free Press, Fremont. 1864 was a presidential election year. Fremont was a radical Republican who considered as a challenger for the Republican nomination in 1864. Sherman's capture of Atlanta will play a key role in Lincoln's re-election against his former general, the Democratic George B. McClellan. This edition of Harper's Weekly contains a short piece on the assault on Kennesaw Mountain, one of many battles in the long Atlanta campaign.

Good News for the Army.
Hereafter we will send, post-paid, any of our PHOTOGRAPHIC ALBUMS ordered by soldiers for themselves or friends, giving an Album of the full money of the money sent.
Our Albums have the reputation of being superior to all others in beauty and durability, and range in price from 50 cts. to $50.
Our catalogue of CARD PHOTOGRAPHS now embraces about 5000 officers, army and navy, statesmen, actors, copies of works of art, &c. Catalogue sent on receipt of stamps.
Stereoscopes and Stereoscopic Views.
Our assortment of these is very extensive, including a great variety of views of the present war.
Catalogue sent on receipt of stamp.
E.&H. T. ANTONY & Co,
501 Broadway, New York.
Manufacturers of Photographic Materials.

Photography was a booming business during the Civil War, and the war was our first to be photographed. Soldiers would frequently pose for a formal photograph before reporting for duty. Cards of leaders were also quite popular. Stereoscopic images created a three-dimensional effect when used with a viewer. I have a few reproductions that I show my students.

Metallic Artificial Legs.
Weight only Four Pounds.
A fit guaranteed. It makes no noise. It does not get out of order. The measure can be sent, and the leg returned by express. If you are not satisfied after six months' trial, I will return the money less twenty-five dollars.
Price $75 to $100. Send for a circular.
Office and Salesroom 491 Broadway, New York.
J.W. WESTON
E. WESTON, 21 West 4th Street, Cincinnati, Ohio.

Sadly, ads like these became increasingly common during the war. The high number of battlefield amputations led to a booming business the manufacture and sale of prosthetics.

AGENTS WANTED.--$50 per month guaranteed. For terms and specimens, address, with stamp, L.L. TODD & CO., New York.

GUN-POWDER
SMITH & RAND, Manufactures of ORANGE RIFLE and ORANGE LIGHTNING Powder, of superior strength and cleanness.
Office, 170 Broadway, New York.

Soldiers, especially officers, often times purchased their own battlefield supplies. Many times the products ended up being worthless and were cast aside during long marches.

DIARRHOEA.
DYSENTARY, CHOLERA, CHOLERA
MORBUS, &c.--Certain and immediate cure. HEGEMAN & CO.'s celebrated Diarrhoea Remedy has been used with unfailing success since the Cholera season of 1832. A single dose will usually check the diarrhoea in a few hours. Prepared only by HEGEMAN & CO., Chemists and Druggists, New York. Sold by all the principal Druggists in the United States.

Disease killed more soldiers during the Civil War than did battle inflicted wounds. This was standard for wars before the 20th century. The drug claims to heal three of the most common of deadly camp diseases.

Remington's
ARMY AND NAVY
REVOLVER.
Approved by the Government.
Warranted superior to any other Pistol of the kind. Also Pocket and Belt Revolvers. Sold by the Trade generally.
E. REMINGTON & SONS,
Ilion, N.Y.

Officers were expected to purchase their own sidearms and swords.

U.S. Gov. Artificial Leg Depots,
658 Broadway, N.Y., Rochester, N.Y. Chicago, Ill., Cincinnati, O., and St. Louis, Mo., where the Government furnishes the U.S. Army and Navy Leg to Soldiers gratis, or its value applied on the Anatomical Ball and Socket-Jointed Leg, which has lateral motion at the ankle like the natural one.
DOUGLAS BLY, M.D., U.S. Commissioner. For instructions address DR. Bly, at nearest Depot.

The demand must be quite high for the government to create five depots.

DO YOU WANT LUXURIANT
WHISKERS OR MUSTACHES?--My Onguent will force them to grow heavily in six weeks (upon the smoothest face) without stain or injury the skin. Price $1--sent by mail, post free, to any address, on receipt of an order.
R.G. GRAHAM, No. 109 Nassau Street, N.Y.

There are at least three more along the same lines.

SOMETHING NEW
IN PLAYING CARDS.
LOVE SCENES.
DESIGNS from FRENCH ARTISTS.
The above new Card has fifty-two beautiful pictures, of elegant design, and they can also be used the same as ordinary playing cards, thus combining pleasure with amusement. Enclose 50 cents and two red stamps, and send for sample pack. $5 per dozen. Liberal discount by gross to dealers. H.A. CASWELL, 60 Nassau St., New York.

One of my favorite ads. It speaks for itself.

I could teach much of the Civil War through these ads.
I saw a lot more wildlife at Kennesaw Mountain than I expected. I took all of the following from the trail.

These butterflies were everywhere, but they wouldn't sit still for a good shot.

I saw at least five deer. All of them seem quite used to humans.
While trying to take a picture of one of the butterflies, I heard something in the leaves behind me. Wondering what it was, I watched for over a minute as something seemed to be trying to push itself up from the leaves. This little guy popped up and quickly retreated. I used to be fast enough to catch these lizards with my bare hands.

One of the joys of Disney World is finding the Secret Mickeys. I found this one on top of Little Kennesaw Mountain. These cactii are numerous across the crest of Big and Little Kennesaw Mountain.

Peace

..._

Kennesaw Mountain, GA

2007-07-26T09:05:00.001-04:00

I took a long hike at Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park on Wednesday (from the visitor center over Big and Little Kennesaw Mountain down to Burnt Hickory Grove and back to the visitor center around the base of the mountain). If you live in/near Atlanta and haven't been there, you must take a half of a day to explore it. I snuck away by telling my wife that I am teaching a Civil War class and need to scout locations (visions of field trips are dancing in my head). I have written about a previous visit to KM here.

While there I couldn't help but buy a couple of things in the bookstore. Many of the items can be found at virtually any local historical site. I got two reproductions of Harper's Weekly: A Journal of Civilization ($2.00 each). One is dated April 27, 1861 and the other July 23, 1864. I didn't get them for their articles or illustrations but for the ads on the last two pages. I will be working them into lessons on advertising, primary sources, and the Civil War. In some ways, the ads reveal that little has changed: get rich quick schemes, balding prevention, magical medicines, new technologies, testimonials, etc. The change in ad content from 1861 (the very beginning of the Civil War) to July of 1864 (when war weariness was beginning to weigh on the coming presidential election) is also very suggestive.

What follows is a selection of the 1861 Harper's Weekly ads. Others I left out include pianos, muslin shirts, paper ties, horse medicine, a patent baby-tender, a ladies' fashion book, and other similar items (my comments in italics):

Premature Loss of the Hair,
Which is so common now-a-days, may be entirely prevented by the use of Burnett's Cocoaine. It has been used in thousands of cases where the hair was coming out in handfuls, and has never failed to arrest its decay, and to promote a healthy and vigorous growth. It is, at the same time, unrivaled as a dressing for the hair. A single application will render it soft and glossy for several days.
For several days? Does this mean they didn't wash their hair for...several days? Even if users continue to lose hair, I am sure they feel much better about themselves after using Burnett's Cocoaine.

"Matrimony made Easy."--A new work, showing how either sex may be suitably married, irrespective of age or appearance, which can not fail--free for 25 cents. Address T. Williams & Co., Publishers, Box 2300, Philad.
I love it: free for 25 cents! The rest of this ad speaks for itself.

$5,000 REWARD--TO ANY SOBER energetic man who fails to make $2,000 a year. Business easy, honest and at home. For full particulars, inclose a stamp for return, and address
A.D.F., Box 78, P.O., Wellsburg, Va.
I wonder if it involves stuffing envelopes?

6000 AGENTS wanted, to sell SIX NEW INVENTIONS--two very recent, and of great value to families; all pay great profit to Agents. Send four stamps and get 80 pages particulars. EPHRAIM BROWN, Lowell, Mass.
What do you think: Amway or Tupperware?

SANDS' SARSPARILLA--The best Spring Alternative. It will purify the blood, promote a vigorous circulation and thoroughly renovate the system. For sale by A.B. & D. SANDS, 100 Fulton St., N.Y.

Wheeler & Wilson's Sewing Machings At reduced prices, with Glass Cloth Presser, Improved Loop-Check, New Style Hammer, Binder, Corder, etc. Office No. 595 Broadway, New York.
"This Machine makes the 'LOCK STITCH,' and ranks highest, on account of the elasticity, permanence, beauty, and general desirableness of the stitching when done, and the wide range of its application." [Report of the American Institute, New York.

5,000 Men Wanted To Sell LLOYD'S NEW POLITCAL CHART FOR THE TIMES, containing large, new, colored Portraits of PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS CABINET, GEN. SCOTT, GEN. WOOL, MAJ. ANDERSON, AND LIEUT. SLEMMER, with a sketch of the life of each. A MAP OF OUR COUNTRY, showing, in different colors, the FREE STATES, BORDER SLAVE STATES, SECEDED STATES, and TERRITORIES.
Also, accurate Election and Census Returns for 1860, with much other valuable information.
Finely colored on excellent paper, 28X36 inches in size.
Mailed, pre-paid, for 25 cents. (Stamps received.)
A RARE CHANCE FOR AGENTS.
Published by H.H. LLOYD & CO'S,
Agents' General Depot for BOOKS, MAPS, AND STATIONARY PACKAGES, No. 25 Howard Street, New York.
Capitalism always finds a way to make good on national crises.

General Scott's Infantry Tactics; or, Rules for the Exercise and Maneuvres of the United States Infantry. 3 vols. 24mo, Muslin, #2 50. Published by Authority.
United States Army Regulations. Approved by the President of the United States, and Printed under the directions of the Secretary of War. 12 mo, Muslin, $1 50.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, Franklin Square, New York.

I shall post the ads from 1864 tomorrow. Until then, some pictures:

One of the few monuments at Kennesaw (compared, say, to Chickamauga). The inscription reads:
We sleep here in obedience to law:
When duty called, we came,
When country called, we died.

How may students will see in this inscription an echo of the Spartan memorial at Thermopylae: Go, stranger, and tell the Spartans that we lie here in obedience to their laws.

View from the top looking north to the North Georgia Mountains.

View from the top looking south to the Atlanta hazeline. Usually one can see Stone Mountain but the haze was too bad.

Gun emplacements at Fort McBride on top of Little Kennesaw Mountain.

Peace
..._

Georgia Carnival #14

2007-07-20T10:36:00.001-04:00

The 14th edition of the Georgia Carnival of Bloggers is up at Georgia on My Mind. Take a look!

Peace
..._

Some Things You Only See When You Don't Have a Camera, Number 2

2007-07-19T10:10:00.000-04:00

The spider was in a concrete chute leading into a storm drain. I don't know what drew my eye that way, but there it was: the largest spider that I have seen in the wilds of Georgia. I have seen spiders too numerous to count. I have killed most of them (see here). I have seen large spiders. With the exception of National Geographic, I have never seen one so large. If it had been hairy, it could have passed for a tarantula. It took no notice of me; it was so big it didn't need to. I examined it for a full five minutes, pondering my duty. Concluding that any swipe at it would probably only cause it to fall or retreat into the depths of the chute where it would undoubtedly breed tens of thousands of value-sized progeny, and given the fact that I was at least a mile from home, I elected to leave it be while secretly wishing that the man with the rifle was close by.

Since that moment of mercy two weeks ago, I have scoured the local headlines in fear of seeing something like, "Local Tot Assaulted, Dragged Under Ground by Massive Arachnid, Body Still Missing" or "House Encased in Silk, Inhabitants Trapped Within." I was shocked today when I read the following headline in the AJC, "Teen Claims Spiders Alerted Her to Fire." The story relates:

Danielle Vigue, 18, says she awoke early Tuesday to find spiders in her room, and started killing them. When more showed up, she says she went across the hall and got into bed with her 15-year-old sister, Lauren.

"At first there were five, they were all around the light fixture," Danielle Vigue told The Saginaw News. "I hate spiders, they freak me out."

A fire apparently was smoldering in the attic...

Later, the room was found to be filled with smoke and fire.

What is this? Could a new era in human-arachnid relations have sprung from my moment of mercy to the queen of Georgia spiders? Even the 30-year fire chief had never heard of spiders saving someone from a fire.

Sadly, the hope for a new era is mere self-deception and faulty thinking. Note that the story relates no evidence for a fire before the appearance and mass murder of several spiders. The fire was noticed after several spiders were killed. While it is impossible to reach any definitive conclusion, the spiders could have just as easily have started the fire in revenge for the death of their colleagues as fled from it.

With the issue ambiguous, I will await more definitive proof of the goodwill of spiders. Until then, I will be checking the batteries in my fire alarms.

Peace
..._

Some Things You Only See When You Don't Have a Camera

2007-07-16T08:58:00.000-04:00

Turning a corner and descending into a rural valley hidden in a sea of suburbs, the walker noticed that the road lacked painted stripes; it was as though he was walking through the Cobb County of forty years ago when many of its roads were rural, stripeless, and often unpaved. It was the day before Independence Day, and the flags and bunting were popping up like March daffodils. The depression of a stream paralleled the road on the other side of the narrow valley. Long, winding driveways led from the road, across the stream and up the side of the valley where homes nestled among the trees. The relentless barking of a dog drew the walker's attention. Two men stood under the trees in a small clearing near the intersection of the stream and a driveway. At first, it seemed that the dog was tied to a tree between the two men. Then it became clear that the dog was penned up near the house, but was very interested in whatever was tied up to the tree. One of the men seemed to be carrying a long stick as though it were a gun. The fettered animal turned to reveal the silhouette of a goat, and the man turned to reveal the silhouette of a man with a rifle. The goat continued turning as the man angled to get in the killing shot. With one motion the man expertly lifted the rifle and fired one shot. The sound was surprisingly quiet. The dull thump in the back of its head buckled the goat's knees as it collapsed in slow motion. It did not move again, and the dog went nearly insane with glee and frustration behind his fence.

The walker blinked, surprised at the scene that he had just witnessed and coming slowly to the realization that surely the carcass was being specially prepared for the next day's July 4 celebration. He chastised himself that his first reaction had been to wish he had a phone so that he could call emergency services. He wondered what the police signal for "goat-down" was. As he ascended the road out of the valley of death, he tried to picture this scene in one of the new neighborhoods of nearly identical million dollar homes only a few blocks away. The neighborhood association would have been down on the amateur butchers with the police and a court order before the barrel of the rifle had cooled. The two men would have been cited with disturbing the peace, discharging a firearm, unlicensed animal husbandry, first-degree goaticide, and exposing the brutal realities of life and death to those who would rather not think about it.

The walker entered his front door strangely pleased that close by, a goat would be slowly roasting over a fire at a large, hopefully raucous assembly on Independence Day.

Peace
..._

Tour of my New Classroom

2007-07-12T19:33:00.000-04:00

Four preps. I found out today that I will have four preps this fall. Four preps and five classes. For those of you not sure what a "prep" is, the term is short for "preparation." It refers to the number of different classes for which a teacher must prepare. The more preps one has, the more work one has. I have had as many as six and as few as two. Most teachers consider three to be challenging, but it is quite common in small and mid-sized private schools (less pay and more work--go figure). Four is unusual and is usually reserved for rookie teachers (because of the demands of seniority, rookie teachers, the ones least prepared for it, always get the worst schedules).

My class load:

Two sections of US History

One section of US Government

One section of AP US History

One section of US Civil War

The last one is quite exciting. I have had the privilege of teaching the Civil War one other time and look forward to it.

Here are some views of my new classroom (taken very amateurishly with my new Canon A710is):

From the door (25 total desks):

From the front of the room (look at all of the storage in the back!)

From one of my two windows:

From the other of my two windows:

A key piece of equipment (an LCD projector--very exciting):

Not pictured: My Smart Board which is being installed this week or next.

Overall, the room is smaller than my last one, but it has more storage, better desks, an LCD projector and Smart Board, and an industrial sized dispenser of antibacterial solution mounted on the wall. The view is not quite as beautiful as my last room's (three pine trees loom out of one of the windows), but I still overlook trees.

Peace

..._

UPDATED: RIP: HP Photosmart R707 Camera 2005-2007

2007-07-02T16:58:00.000-04:00

My digital camera has died. I took over 3,500 pictures with it before its shutter closed for the last time. It was a good camera. Before you rejoice that there will no longer appear any obnoxious photos on this blog, I must inform you that I just purchased this:

It is a Canon a710is and shipped today. I hope to see it by Thursday. I am very excited about it. I can't wait to take a picture of Orlando Bloom with it.

Peace

..._

My camera did get here on Thurdsday! Crutchfield Electronics (via Amazon) really came through--ordered on Monday and delivered on Thursday with a holiday on Wednesday. I am still working through the myriad settings and have yet to take a really great picture, but here is a sample that has been severely cropped (I am just impressed by the shininess of the bumblebee's abdomen):

Peace

..._

Mid-Week Miscellany:

2007-06-26T21:39:00.000-04:00

We had a backyard BBQ at our house this past weekend. There were eight adults and fourteen children under the age of thirteen. There was one bloody nose, one bloody knee, countless bug bites, one nose run-over by a wagon (yes--a different nose), more than a few meltdowns (mostly by my eldest), and one Jedi council. It was hot. Really hot. We enjoyed it and thank all who came.

I make a habit of watching Gardening in Georgia on PBS whenever I can. A few weeks ago the host, Walter Reeve, was talking with one of the many experts from UGA that he has on the show. The expert, I forget his name, remarked that gardening is a hobby of hope; people who garden have hope and continually look forward to the future. They plant now for the beauty they will see next year or even years hence. I like that.

For the tags of my last Miscellany, I whimsically added Orlando Bloom. I have received at least five hits so far from that tag.

When I first taught economics in 2001, I created an in-class stock market simulation to introduce students to the stock market. Students were assigned roles as clerks, brokers, mutual fund managers, or investors. In two or three days of class time, we simulated about three months of stock activity using random events and trends calculated on rather complex charts. I no longer use the simulation now that I use Virtual Stock Exchange, but I came across my fictional company descriptions and cannot pass up the opportunity to record them for posterity here:

Stock Market Research
Corporations

Bates Motel (BaM):
Bates Motel is a Detroit, Michigan based low cost motel chain. Founded in 1956 by Albert Hitchcock, the chain now has 243 motels in 47 states. Their motto, “Bates Motel: Where we don’t murder your budget,” was adopted by their controversial new CEO Alice “Mother” Bates. “Mother” Bates took control of the chain from her son in 1997 in a hostile inner-family feud. Since then, the company has focused on cutting costs and slashing overhead to cut the red ink on company statements. Seventeen struggling motels were closed in 1997 with another twelve getting the ax in 1998. In 1999, Bates reported their first profit in seven years though customer service complaints have risen dramatically. About half of the Bates chain is owned by franchisees, the other half controlled by the company directly. In January 2001, “Mother” Bates announced plans to expand into the Central and South American market, where, she said, “We can make a killing”. Negotiations are under way for expansion into Mexico, Brazil, Columbia, Panama, and Peru. Analysts are generally divided on future earnings potential because of the risky nature of overseas expansion.

Bevrolet Motor Company (Bev):
Bev McGee founded Bevrolet Motor Company in 1923 as manufacturer of drive trains. Bevrolet was later acquired as a subsidiary parts supplier for Chevrolet in 1956. The company broke from Chevrolet in 1972 and continued to market parts to a wide variety of companies including Honda, Subaru, Ford, Chevrolet, and Mitsubishi. In 1994 the company began automobile production with their line of Bamaros. In 1997 the company launched, with much fanfare, the Urban line of Sports Utility Vehicles. While the Bamaro line remains strong, the Urban line has failed to live up to expectations. The directors of the company continue to play up the new line of 2002 Urbans which, they say, will rewrite the book on SUVs. The company has failed to make a profit since 1993 because of the massive investment in the Barmaro line and Urban line. The parts division of the company also appears to be in trouble as many auto manufacturers do not like to buy from competitors. Mitsubishi cancelled their contract last year and Honda, Subaru, Ford and Chevrolet are considering the same measures. Analysts generally advise against buying this stock. The stock reached an all time low of $7.50 last week.

Croaka-Cola (CrC):
Invented in 1943 by California Entrepreneur Michael McGee, Croaka-Cola has slowly improved regional market share in the competitive soda industry. Dominant in the Southwest during the 1950’s, Croaka-Cola almost went under due to pressure from Pepsi. The removal of asbestos from the secret recipe of Croaka-Cola in 1963 led to its rejuvenation. Since then Michael McGee has established an unprecedented 15% share of the soda market in the South West. In 1990 the Croaka-Cola Casino opened in Las Vegas. A theme park like atmosphere and family oriented gambling have made the Casino the crown jewel of McGee’s empire. Though rumors of the company being bought out by one of the big players continued through the 90’s, the still spry at 89, McGee maintains a firm grip on the company. The company’s goals for the new millennium include nationwide expansion and national distribution of the casino’s microbrew Croaka-Beer and Croaka-Stout.

Ezzon Oil (Ez):
One of the great American oil producers, Ezzon was formed when Standard Oil Company was broken up early in the twentieth century. The company today has holding worth over $250 Billion on all seven continents. Though the company experienced severe public relation troubles following the wreck of the Ezzon tanker Baldez in 1988 and the ensuing clean up, the company has emerged with a sterling image as eco-friendly. The company continues its efforts at overseas exploration for new oil resources. Recently the company, in partnership with a Russian firm, has spent large amounts of money in the exploration of Siberia. The company continues to report big profits and most fund managers include this stock in their holdings.

MacroSoft (Ma):
This software giant, founded by nerdy genius N.O. Dates, has gained near worldwide monopoly status with the dominance of its operating system “Doors”. Dates, the richest man in the United States, has been criticized for unfair business practices and the company is presently under investigation for the violation of federal anti-trust laws. Dates continues to fight the investigation and is confident that nothing will come of it. However, US President Bill Cantax has made it his personal goal to break up the software giant. Stock prices have dropped dramatically over the past year as details of the investigation have been made public. Pre-sales of the new Doors 2-ought-2 operating system to be released in two-months have been strong.

Melta Airlines (Me):
This Atlanta based airline giant continues to find ways to make a profit while other airlines have gone bankrupt. Many point to the companies’ positive relationship with its employees and its well-timed acquisition of smaller, nearly bankrupt airlines, as the key to its success. The company is the second largest airline in the world. The present CEO Roberta Burns has been credited with the company’s success and its outstanding relationship with labor.

Nile Books and More (Nil):
This Internet book superstore has yet to show a profit though it still remains strong on Wall Street. Stock prices have consistently risen since its IPO in 1996. Analysts predict that its present dominance of Internet book sales will lead to future profits. Niles plans include expansion of their CD, DVD, Video, and Game catalog as well as potential ventures into computer sales. Some analysts warn that the stock may be overvalued and that unless the company begins showing a profit soon the stock could fail dramatically.

Pacific Steel Corp (Pac):
This storied company has somehow managed to stay afloat through the lean years of the steel market in the United States while most steel company have folded. Recently the company has been hurt by imports of cheap Korea and Russian steel. Pacific’s complaints to the government concerning the unfair business practices of the Korean and Russian steel makers have gone unanswered. Despite this Pacific remains the world’s leader in the high-grade and high-tech steels that the company has begun to focus on in recent years. PSC continues to make huge investments in Research and Development has recently announced several breakthrough methods of high-carbon steel and stainless steel production. Though still in the red the company is on solid financial ground and has recently signed contracts for several high-tech steel projects. While some analysts see the low cost of the stock as a bargain others see it as too great of risk.

Pepe Inc (Pep):
The Pepe corporation includes the Sugar High Candies division, the Big Blots chain of discount stores and the AutoMax chain of used car dealerships. The company’s diversity has proven to be both a strength and a weakness. While the company as a whole has been able to weather the bad times of one of its divisions some think that the company would be better off focusing on one thing. Recently the AutoMax chain has experienced difficulties achieving sales goals and several unprofitable locations have been liquidated. Big Blots continues its expansion and is considered the keystone of the company. Sugar High Candies, the original holding of the company continues to maintain 5% market share of candy sales nationwide.

Old Army (OA):
This peppy upstart came out of nowhere in the 90’s and quickly carved a large chunk out of teenagers’ wallets. With its mix of low overhead, low costs and stylish clothing the company has experienced unprecedented success. Profits remain strong and a new initiative of loss-prevention aims to cut losses to theft. Old Army plans on opening 53 new stores in the coming year.

Shoehorn.com (SHC):
This recent IPO has recently dropped significantly in price. The internet shoe store has experienced difficultly marketing to shoppers used to being able to try shoes on for look and fit. Return rates have been high and have bit into the small profit that Shoehorn was able to post last year. The company is presently looking for investors to shore up the shaky finances.

SuperMegaWorld Corporation International (SMW):
This massive world wide corporation presently consists of: Zabisco, a snack food maker, Tall Tower Records, Galaxy Pictures, Media Two stores, and the Dizzy World entertainment complex. The company was originally the brainchild of Walt Dizzy and the antics of his frisky rat “Ricky”. The Ricky Rat name soon became a household name after World War II and was the star of a number of animated short films. Dizzy World opened in Orlando, Alabama in 1963 and has since become the entertainment capital of the world. Since then the company has acquired its other holdings and solidified into an entertainment super giant. Success of its films and store locations have boosted profits in recent years. Rumors swirl around the filming of the massively over budget and past due “Titanic II: The Revenge”. Many fear that the first film to cost over $1 Billion could very well sink Galaxy pictures.

United Business Machines (UBM):
One of the pioneer computer manufacturers and once the bluest of the blue chips, UBM has experienced difficulty converting from a hardware manufacturer to a software developer and service oriented firm. After a massive restructuring in the 1990’s and massive layoffs in the 1980’s the company, smaller and smarter, appears poised to make big gains playing on its well-respected name. Profits, though small, have returned to the company and the stock is making a rebound.

Peace
..._

Georgia Carnival of Bloggers

2007-06-23T07:12:00.000-04:00

The 12th edition of the Georgia Carnival of Bloggers is now available for your reading pleasure here. Enjoy.

Peace
..._

Mid-Week Miscellany: The Wiggles and Pirates, Too!

2007-06-20T21:10:00.001-04:00

On Sunday we went to my sister's for my niece's birthday party. Since my niece finds Orlando Bloom's work in the Pirates movies to be that of a deeply talented actor, the party was pirate themed, and each child attendee received a cup of pirate loot. My six-year-old son and four-year-old had great fun with the eye patches and pirate bouncy balls. At one point my son came up with the idea of using the bouncy ball as his fake eye. He ran into the room and queried, "Do you want to see my peg eye?"

Earlier at that same party he was eating at a table full of older girls. Somehow, his elbow got wedged into the back of the chair, and he couldn't get it out. Not wanting to lose face in front of the ladies, he played it cool until his uncle walked by chair. He quietly asked if his uncle could help him because his elbow was stuck in the chair. His uncle helped him out, and the girls were never the wiser.

The twins just passed their ten month birthday. Yesterday I caught the eldest standing on his on-all-fours brother's back in an attempt to crawl onto the couch. He is becoming an accomplished escape artist, but has yet to learn that his actions have often painful consequences.

Did you see this Washinton Post piece: Va. School's No-Contact Rule Is a Touchy Subject? A couple of snippets:

All touching -- not only fighting or inappropriate touching -- is against the rules at Kilmer Middle School in Vienna. Hand-holding, handshakes and high-fives? Banned. The rule has been conveyed to students this way: "NO PHYSICAL CONTACT!!!!!"

School officials say the rule helps keep crowded hallways and lunchrooms safe and orderly, and ensures that all students are comfortable. But Hal, 13, and his parents think the school's hands-off approach goes too far, and they are lobbying for a change.

...

Deborah Hernandez, Kilmer's principal, said the rule makes sense in a school that was built for 850 students but houses 1,100. She said that students should have their personal space protected and that many lack the maturity to understand what is acceptable or welcome.

"You get into shades of gray," Hernandez said. "The kids say, 'If he can high-five, then I can do this.' "

She has seen a poke escalate into a fight and a handshake that is a gang sign. Some students -- and these are friends -- play "bloody knuckles," which involves slamming their knuckles together as hard as they can. Counselors have heard from girls who are uncomfortable hugging boys but embarrassed to tell anyone. And in a culturally diverse school, officials say, families might have different views of what is appropriate.

It isn't as if hug police patrol the Kilmer hallways, Hernandez said. Usually an askance look from a teacher or a reminder to move along is enough to stop girls who are holding hands and giggling in a huddle or a boy who pats a buddy on the back. Students won't get busted if they high-five in class after answering a difficult math problem.

Typically, she said, only repeat offenders or those breaking other rules are reprimanded. "You have to have an absolute rule with students, and wiggle room and good judgment on behalf of the staff," Hernandez said.

Schools exist to educate. Besides subject area teaching, the social education of children is one of the most important functions of schools. Children must learn to function in groups in appropriate and constructive ways. They must learn how to appropriately talk to, listen to, and, yes, touch others. Teachers and administrators must serve the central place in this development and must ensure that children to do not come to serious harm.

Frankly, this policy is a cop-out and is lazy educating. In a misguided attempt to keep students from any harm, the school has abandoned all responsibility for the development of the vital social skill of appropriate touching and has instead opted to teach that touching is wrong without considering the harm that might to done to a child who is deprived the gift of friendly touch: "Usually an askance look from a teacher or a reminder to move along is enough to stop ... a boy who pats a buddy on the back." While it is important to stop the malicious plague of boys who pat their buddies on their backs, isn't it more important to engage students in the "shades of gray" that Principal Hernandez is so loath to consider? She argues that, "You have to have an absolute rule with students," but one wonders exactly how can an absolute rule have "wiggle room" and still be absolute. Perhaps students are free to wiggle all they wish as long as they don't touch during "wiggle-time." Besides, that wiggling will most certainly be eliminated as soon as the Ritalin is added to the school water-fountains. I agree with her that "good judgment on behalf of the staff" is necessary; let us hope that the staff of Kilmer Middle School shall one day demonstrate that good judgment. Until then there will be a lot of teachers looking askance at the giggling girls and at the boys patting boys on the back.

Peace
..._

Twins Reach Ten Months!

2007-06-15T22:38:00.001-04:00

Twin A at ten months.

Peace
..._

Camping with the Chintzibobs: How Spring Break Broke the Tent, Part II

2007-06-14T21:45:00.000-04:00

On April 26th the Ohoopee published an article entitled: Camping with the Chintzibobs: How Spring Break Broke the Tent, Part I. Without further delay, we give you Part II.

The first day and night of my eldest son's first camping trip had been as close to perfect as possible. I met the dawn of the second day pleased that no one had been attacked by a wild animal and nothing had burned down.

The second day of camping ended up much like the first; we hiked, fished, shot each other with Nerf guns, and nibbled Pop Tarts (truly the modern equivalent of Lembas). As the perfect day wore on, a cloud hung over me (so to speak). Before leaving on our trip, I had carefully checked the weather and knew now that I was promised a 30% of showers overnight. Being a Chintzibobs, I didn't like those odds. For a camping Chintzibobs, a 30% chance roughly translates as, "Build an ark and stock it with two of every kind of Pop Tart."

Tragically, I elected to pluck the nose hairs of Zeus and stay another night.

After dinner we went for a round the lake walk. I was alarmed though not surprised to see clouds gathering. At the exact midpoint of our trek around the lake, rain began to fall. Fortunately, it was only a gentle Spring zephyr. We made it back to camp and hid away in the tent with some pretzels, Gold Fish, pen, and paper. The rain fell steadily but half-heartedly for an hour, grew bored of itself, and went away. We emerged from the tent, made a fire, roasted a large number of marshmallows, and chatted about word origins.

The boy is going through a phase of: why do they call it that? When I don't have an answer, he usually supplies his own answer. Example:
"Why do they call it fire?"
"I don't know son."
Thoughtful staring at the sparks and smoke rise into the sky.
"Maybe it is because the fire flies and you can roast things over it."
"Oh I see, fi=fly and re=roast. Could be."
"I think it is."

The boy grew quickly sleepy by the fire and surprised me by going off to bed by himself by about 8:00 pm. I spent the next few hours enjoying the cool night air, the starry night, and the dying fire. Growing sleepy myself, I got up to douse the sparkling embers with my son's carefully laid out fire extinguishers (he had spent much of the evening gathering things to help put out the fire: rocks, sticks soaked in water, sand, etc). With the steaming death throes of the fire swirling about me like a specter, I looked up for one last look at the stars. They were gone.

I couldn't see a single star. The clouds had gathered quickly. By the time I settled into my sleeping bag, the first rumbles of thunder could be heard echoing off of the mountains. I told myself that it was just big trucks on the road by the park entrance. The wind began to rise as flashes of lightening began illuminating the tent. The thunder grew less grumbly and more cracky as the storm crept nearer. The rain fell, the wind blew, and the thunder snapped. The first storm passed into a light drizzle by midnight, and I hoped it would be over. A quick check showed the tent to still be dry.

The next storm exploded upon me just as I was dozing off. The thunder was so loud that my son shot up out of his sleeping bag in fear. I turned on the flashlight and assured him that I was there and that it was just a little storm. He laid back down and pushed his hands into his ears without complaint. The wind buffeted each of the sides of the tent in turn. The storm took a deep breath and again led me to believe that the rain was finished.

The rain fell again, the thunder and lightening shattered the quiet darkness, and the wind blew harder that I thought possible without trees falling all around us. The rain and wind began to come in great waves. Checking the seams, I could see that the water was starting to come through the seams not by drips but by being blow sideways through the gaps formed whenever the wind stretched out the fabric of the tent.

When I saw that the water was beginning to puddle and flow on the floor of the tent, I began to prepare to evacuate. I dressed and began gathering anything that would be ruined by getting wet. In the middle of this, a powerful gust struck the front of the tent, and I heard a plastic crack and snap. Then the front wall of the tent began to rise up above my head as a new ceiling. I think I said something I have since come to regret. I threw myself against the front of the tent to bring it back to earth and told my son to put his shoes on. As calmly as I could, I told him that we going to get into the car because the water was getting into the tent. I held the tent open for him, shined the flashlight for him, and told him to run to the car and get into the back seat. He refused. He was probably right to do so. I gathered what I could, and we ran to the car together.

The clock on the car said that it was after 1am. My son attempted to get some sleep in the back seat. The storm continued to rattle the valley. I sat in the driver's seat and wondered if my son would ever trust me again. The tent was in ruins. He was stuck, slightly damp, sleeping in the crowded backseat of a car. I didn't sleep much.

The rain stopped some time after 4am. We both got up early and surveyed the damage. I saw now that the wind had snapped a fiberglass support and pulled the front-side stakes out of the ground. The tent had flipped over itself but was stopped from further destruction by the still-holding rear stakes.

I watched my son closely for signs of trauma. Surely after last night he would want to go home immediately and never go camping again. His vision of me as competent and near god-like would be shattered. As soon as breakfast was over, he wanted to go fishing. We went down to the lake and watched the sunrise. On the way back to the campsite, I reminded him that we were going home today. He looked at me and asked me when we could go camping again and if we could stay longer next time. I smiled and told him, "Soon son, soon."

Peace
..._

Jury Duty vs Post-Planning

2007-05-31T21:52:00.000-04:00

This week is teacher post-planning. In theory, teachers are supposed to meet to review what went right and wrong during the past year and to begin planning for the next year. In practice, it means a few short days of cleaning your room, tying up loose ends, and long lunches. I have missed most of this years' post-planning due to jury duty. I have mixed feelings about this. I am thrilled to have jury duty (I teach government and now I can speak from direct experience about jury service), and I actually got on a jury today (guilty on both counts), but this is my last year at this school. I have been there since January 2001, and I hoped to spend this week saying goodbye. While my jury (yes, my jury--I was foreman) debate how many flails of the arm constitutes resisting arrest, the faculty was putting on a farewell luncheon for the three teachers leaving. I missed my own farewell lunch.

Tomorrow is the last day of post-planning, and I will be at school. The administration will give us a free lunch (the one thing they are truly good at), and then I will move on. I expect it to be a very anti-climatic ending to a very difficult year.

I hate change.

Peace

..._

Best Excuse Note of the Year

2007-05-26T06:40:00.000-04:00

Last night was graduation, and while the graduates were getting their diplomas, I remembered getting this e-mail from one of them early this semester:

hi, its susie student. so here's a kind of funny story... so i walk into a nail place after cheerleading practice today because i want to get my nails done for this weekend and i bring in this little folder/organizer dealfor all my hw. it just so happened to have all my homework both for tomorrow and for this weekend, completed- i might add. all of the sudden this very intimidating vietnamese woman walks up to me and tells me to pick out the color i want and walk back to her little station. long story short-after she scared me death and spent 10 minutes trying to talk to me in someother language, i left my homework folder in the nail place and the hw for your class was in it. i have already finished the homework due friday and for next tuesday- if u need any proof u can ask bob who sat next to me in study hall making fun of me for being diligent and told me to stop probably 6 times. i know you don't accept late work on little homework assignments but i would love if it you had mercy on me for this first one. i don't intend and plan not to have any more issues like this but for this once, out of the kindness of your heart, would you please consider giving me some credit for it? i'm pretty sure that nail place opens at 10 so i can have my homework to you by 10:15 if they didn't throw it away. if not, i may face my first 0 in the history of my schooling (which would be fair, i know, i'm just bummed). anyway, have a great night and i hope you and your family are doing well!

She is one of the most diligent students I have ever had and had been really sick all semester so I marked her down for a late grade and gave her full credit for making me laugh.

Peace
..._

Georgia Carnival: Edition Nine is Up

2007-05-12T06:50:00.000-04:00

The ninth edition of the Georgia Carnival is up here. Read and enjoy.

In other news, I had my first mosquito bite of the season last night.

Peace
..._

Monday Miscellany: Bears, Monkeys, and POE

2007-05-06T22:34:00.000-04:00

Next year I will be teaching at a new school. I am going to be teaching at the arch-rival of my present school. When I informed my current students of my move, they felt betrayed so I told them that I was going undercover in order flunk all of their star athletes. They know I am lying, but it made them feel better anyway. A couple of my tenth graders went to Build-A-Bear and made a mini-me:

If you know me, then you know they got it right.

If you go to Flickr and look at the picture more closely, you will see that in the background just above the Bear's right shoulder is a stuffed monkey. Clearly, I have a long history of unusual gifts (and look here). The monkey came to me about five years ago.

Here is the story of the monkey: I have always struggled in creating tests for my AP (advanced placement) classes. Genuine AP multiple-choice questions are well-written, extremely challenging, and the College Board has only released a limited number of their questions. I use as many of their questions as I can on my tests, but there are never nearly enough for a complete test. Strangely, most of the other standard sources for multiple-choice questions (like the textbook's test bank) are actually either poorly written or contain only four choices. The College Board uses five choice multiple-choice questions. On the rare occasions when I have been able to use one of the test bank questions, I have had to add a fifth answer. The structure of the question often makes it challenging to write an appropriate fifth answer.

One late, test-writing night about six years ago I began adding "creative" fifth answers to the questions. Some of them were lame, cultural references (usually relating to Britney Spears), but the bulk of them developed into a story concerning the attempts of a species of super-intelligent subterranean monkeys to take over the world. They were such great hits, I began adding punch lines to most of my tests. The students end up much more relaxed, and they tend to read all of the answers much more clearly. So my students got me a monkey at the end of the year. Since then my AP classes have passed the monkey around for luck before every test (there is a pun there about monkeying around--but I shall spare you). Here are some samples in a neat little quiz (answer in the comments if you wish, but no cheating):

1. The Whigs in 1840
a. Feared splitting their party and hence had no platform
b. Nominated Winfield Scott for president
c. Campaigned for a program similar to Clay’s American System
d. Tried to play down their candidate's war record
e. Advocated the violent overthrow of the US government and the institution of government by monkey

2. As part of the “Great Biological Exchange,” Europeans brought to the New World
A. A horde of subterranean monkeys hidden in the hold of a supply vessel
B. Tomatoes
C. Peanuts
D. Olives
E. Tobacco

3. The cotton gin was invented
a. By James Watt
b. By John Kay
c. In the 1790’s
d. In the 1830’s
e. By 1,000 monkeys typing away at 1,000 typewriters for a thousand years

4. In the Webster-Hayne Debate, Daniel Webster argued that
a. Each section of the country had to stand up and fight, if necessary, for its rights
b. States had the right to nullify national laws
c. The Union was made up of sovereign states
d. Final jurisdiction on all questions of constitutionality rested in the nation’s Supreme Court
e. Robert Hayne was a “big-poopie head that is not allowed to pick his nose without the permission of the Federal government.”

5. The Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution
A. outlawed slavery.
B. guaranteed citizens the equal protection of the laws.
C. specifically gave the former slaves the right to vote.
D. ended Reconstruction in the South.
E. gave all Monkeys the right to “a free and unimpeded flow of bananas”

Not my best questions, but you get the idea.

I watched the movie The Day After today. Do any of you remember this 1983 made for TV movie about the consequences of a full-scale nuclear war on a community in Kansas? I think I remember seeing it in 8th or 9th grade and being scared out of my mind. The reason I ask is that AP exams are this week, and we usually take it easy after the exam so I am thinking about a unit on the Cold War through film. Here is my potential list: Dr. Strangelove, War Games, and Red Dawn. None of them are brilliant (with the possible exception of Dr. Strangelove--but I love Peter Sellers) but The Day After (1983), War Games (1983), and Red Dawn (1984) were made during a two-year stretch near the beginning of Reagan's presidency. Why could that be? I probably only have time for three films. Any suggestions?

Peace

..._

Modern Day Primitive Rituals: Giddy in Misery

2007-05-03T21:29:00.000-04:00

I went to the store while my daughter was at dance to get some Cheerios and formula for the babies. The twins (at eight and a half months now) are at the Cheerios stage in their development. I suppose each stage of a child's life has its good and bad. With the Cheerios stage, one can only delight in watching as a baby struggles to grasp, raise, and chew his own food. Later of course, one must pry the soggy almost-eaten Cheerios off of his clothes, chair, and body. Hours after that, one can only shrug as you find him eating a Cheerio that he has mysteriously produced from some magical, Cheerios hiding place on his body. They will continue to fall out for the next several days, and there is always one or two in his diaper.

But I digress, I was at the store pondering my choices: Multi-Grain Cheerios, Frosted Cheerios, Honey-Nut Cheerios, Yogurt-Burst Cheerios (Strawberry), Yogurt-Burst Cheerios (Vanilla), Berry-Burst Cheerios, Fruity Cheerios, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, and the generic Happy-Os when I noticed a young lady marching down the aisle with a determined gait. It was clear that she knew exactly where she was going and what she was getting. She was talking on her cell-phone, and I could not help but overhear her as she approached, "They broke up...Yes, they just broke up....I am getting the cookies and milk now if you would take care of the movies." She grabbed a package of Oreos off of the shelf without breaking stride and took a left turn towards the milk. She picked up the pace and her voice seemed to be gaining an edge of insane giddiness to it, "I just love this ritual."

Ritual? I wanted to hear more, but from that short snippet of overheard conversation, an entire story had leapt into my head. I picked-up the Happy-Os and absent-mindedly picked up a package of Oreos in amusement. A few minutes later, I found myself at the self-check out next to her as she purchased a gallon of milk and the package of Oreos. She must have been talking to someone new for the story was same but with added details. Apparently the break up had been expected with anticipation for some time, and the planning for the pity-party was in full swing, "They just broke up. They had a big fight this morning so I bought some magazines, now I am getting the cookies and milk. Yeah. They just broke up. Can you get the movies?" Then she was gone.

As I write this hours later, I figure that by this time they must have made quite a dent in the Oreos and Milk and read quite a few articles in all those magazines about taming that tummy. Surely, he has called several times, and her friends have told her not to take it. Eventually, my guess is, she shall take the phone call because of a short, but very sweet text message, and six hours later they will be back together again; the party will end. Some day in the future, maybe next weekend or maybe next month, she will need another Friday night with her friends, and she will pick a fight and the ritual will be set in motion again. Misery loves cookies (or ice cream).

My Oreos, on the other hand, will be going to school with me tomorrow to be presented to the winner of the Second Page Club.

Peace

..._

Camping with the Chintzibobs: How Spring Break Broke the Tent, Part I

2007-04-26T21:12:00.000-04:00

I had to talk the boy into going camping. He was willing to go fishing, but camping was not an option for him. It was, after all, Spring Break, and I figured that he had big plans for recreating Star Wars Episode 7: The Fall of Dark Robot or perhaps laying out an epic Heroscape battle. After a day of grilling, prodding, and wheedling, I discovered that his tendency to be a homebody was not the problem. He was afraid of the campfire.

Someone, I am not naming any names or making any pointed accusations, but someone has instilled an unhealthy fear of fire in him. Once I figured that out, all I had to do was promise (despite how much it pained me) not to have a fire, and he half-heartedly agreed to go camping. Meanwhile, his younger sister spent two days alternately running around in circles repeating with glee, "I want to go camping" and wailing through tears, "I want to go camping." I left her at home though we were both broken-hearted about it.

The day before leaving, my son asked me excitedly, "Will we be able to roast marshmallows?"
I replied, "Sure son, we can even make s'mores, but we will have to make a fire if we want to do that."
He looked thoughtful for a moment and conceded, "Okay. We can have a small fire."

We arrived at our campsite at the lovely Lake Winfield Scott campground on Monday morning. It was good to be in the mountains that day as the air was warm, the sky was sunny and blue, the campground was not crowded, and my favorite campsite was empty. Two quick blows took a bit of the wind out of my sails: the boy insisted upon camping at a different campsite (one closer to some neighbors with kids his age), and I discovered that the park service had not turned on the water supply to the spigots or the bathrooms yet (not for the first time I was relieved to have left the girl at home).

The two of us spent the rest of the day and all of the next day hiking, fishing, chasing each other around the campsite with Nerf guns, munching PopTarts, guzzling IBC Cream Soda, roasting marshmallows, and making s'mores. It was a perfect day. I turned off the fire (as my son put it), and we went to sleep in the tent with sticky fingers and tired bodies.

As I lay in my sleeping bag listening to my son fall asleep in his Spiderman sleeping bag, I couldn't help but think of the many times my parents had taken the family camping. Many of my favorite memories of youth revolve around those happy times sitting around the fire at night with my family, the darkened shouts of snipe-hunting among the fallen leaves, the hissing of the lantern on a branch above a game of cards, the smell of bacon and hash browns cooking on the Coleman stove, the pops and sizzles of the logs in the fire, the odor of Off, the flapping of massive moths around the lantern, the showers of sparks rising through the glowing boughs and leaves of sheltering trees to join the stars above. Ultimately, a pop-up camper and big green Chevy van would make camping easier for us. It wasn't long before we were too grown up to camp as a family, and we kids would have to wait until we had our own kids to camp again. It was much too long before that day came for me and my boy, and I found myself missing my dad. He doesn't go camping anymore.

Camping was always an adventure for us. It invariably rained, usually violently. We would hang out our stuff to dry, pick up our storm-scattered things, and go right on camping. On one occasion, a tornado touched down across the lake from us. During another outing, I was sleeping in a little orange tent with my middle brother when he woke me up with an accusation, "Man, did you wet the bed or something?" For a terrifying moment, I thought that I had wet my sleeping bag for I was soaked, but it was the rain pouring in from every direction that was soaking us. My eldest brother and his friend abandoned their tent when they discovered that the lake was rising inside their tent. We all crowded into the camper.

Through all of these camping adventures, I never remember real fear. I do remember waking up in a tent and hearing something outside making a noise like a twelve-foot bear. My heart would start racing, and my mind would start making up violent scenarios. I would remember the story I had read in Guideposts about the guy who woke up with a rattler inside his sleeping bag. Then I would hear my father stir or he would clear his throat like only he can do, and I would instantly be reassured, "Dad's here. He knows what he is doing. Nothing bad can happen with him around. He can take care of any problem. All will be fine." Throughout my childhood, I remember instinctively feeling this sense of safety around my Dad. On long trips to Missouri, I never feared a car wreck. That green van was an armored tank when he was driving (I felt a little different when Mom was driving). I didn't think about it, and I didn't even know that I felt it until I heard a friend of mine speaking about it at his own father's funeral a couple of years ago. He described feeling about his dad exactly what I had felt about my own. I still trust Dad's judgment more than anyone else I know.

I faded off to sleep in the tent wondering if my son felt that way about me. Was he sleeping so soundly because he was counting on his Daddy to fight off the nightly terrors? Did my Dad ever have doubts like mine or did he ever fear? How could I ever live with the quiet confidence and sure competence of my Dad? I fell asleep hoping a stray ember wouldn't burn the tent down.

Peace

..._

Monday Miscellany: Profit and Loss

2007-04-23T18:05:00.000-04:00

In February my Economics students began a stock simulation provided free of charge by the good people at Virtual Stock Exchange. Students are given virtual dollars (I gave them all $100,000) and then invest it in real stocks that follow the prices, rules, and trends of the real stock market. I announced a series of prizes including bonus points on the final exam for first, second, and third places.

The real problem with the simulation is that the limited time scale encourages short-term trading as opposed to long-term investing. While the simulation is limited (or maybe because of its limitations), students have been instantly and almost universally engaged. They have popped into the media center between classes to check stock prices, they constantly beg me to check the stocks on the class computer, and a few have developed Dow Syndrome (a sudden illness, usually brought on by the surreptitious checking of stocks on cell phones) and have had to rush to the bathroom in an emergency only to find themselves feverishly sell Google in the computer lab. Many of my students haven't talked this much to their fathers since they were in elementary school. A couple of students bought Playboy and Anheuser-Busch shares on the first day. I had to make them sell the shares and add new rules to the game, but the incident led to a good discussion of ethical investing (the consensus of the students: if it makes money, it's ethical).

True, some of those that fell behind early abandoned the game. Even so, most of the students continue to make at least an occasional transaction. To encourage those who seem to have quit, I told them that whoever places in the 31st position will win a cookie (the 31st position is the first position on the second page of rankings--what we call President of the 2nd Page Club). Fighting has become fierce for third place (first and second seem locked up) and for the cookie position. The game will conclude in eight days. Here are the top players as of the closing bell today:
1. Hayden
+195.21%

2. iwantcandy07
+175.79%

3. sasquash
+107.16%

4. MoneyLoseingMackinleymehhhhh
+94.92%

5. The Woobie
+31.17%

Your eyes do not deceive you. One of my students has made almost 200% since February! I guess I am just that good of a teacher. I should say that I am that good of an Economics teacher since they clearly can't spell.

Anything could happen at this point. Up until last week, we all thought sasquash or MoneyLoseing... would win but Hayden and iwantcandy07 both went way out on margin and bought a bunch of a pharmaceutical stock at $1.07 that went to over $4.00 in one day. MoneyLoseing... made most of his money by typing in funny words or IM messages into the symbol finder. He put in "HA" and bought $200,000 of Hawaiian Airlines. He made about $30,000 on that deal. Sasquash wants a cookie instead of the bonus points.

All-in-all, I have never seen so many second semester seniors so excited about something at school.

When I first started my blog, I promised myself that I would never apologize to my readers if I went too long between postings. I had read too many other bloggers who seemed to start off every post with "Sorry it has been so long, but life has been so busy" or something to that effect. The blogs usually died soon after. The last posts of many a blog in the blograveyard begin, "Sorry, but." I vowed to never let that happen. I thought it would be far too easy to let my writing go for a while and then pull out the "life's been busy" excuse every time I needed it. It would encourage my lazy side too much.

Last month was the first month for which I will not have an archive because I did not post. I do not offer an apology, but I do feel that I owe an explanation: I have been looking for a new job since February and have either focused my energies or seen my energies drained by that effort. In addition, March is research paper season at my current school, and it takes an intensive effort by the teachers to make it a successful project. The good news is that I have found a new teaching job and the research papers are done so I shall be posting more regularly in the near future. Instead of an apology, I offer my thanks for continuing to drop by during my drought.

Speaking of droughts, I took my son camping for his first time over Spring Break. The Georgia DNR knows that in times of extreme drought, all they have to do is call the Chintzibobs family and ask them to go camping and the state will be assured of a copious, all-day, all-night rainfall. The DNR rarely makes this call because they know that invariably, with that rainfall comes severe weather, possible tornados, and disaster proclamations by the governor. This trip was no exception. I see that this Miscellany has become much too long so I will save the full story for another day.

Peace

..._

Three Reasons to Love Grandma

2007-04-22T18:02:00.000-04:00

I asked my six-year-old son if he wanted to go over to Grandma's on Friday night so my wife and I could go get another crib (another story) and celebrate my new job (another story). His eyes lit up and he exclaimed "Yes!"

I asked him why he like going over to Grandma's so much. His anwer:

"I get to play outside. I get to play in the basement. And she always says, 'Yes'."

Peace
..._

Pictured below is the same son at sunrise on Spring Break on his first camping trip (another story)

Twins at Six Months

2007-02-24T19:54:00.000-05:00

Twin A on the left and Twin B on the right.

Peace
..._

New Carnival of Georgia Bloggers Is Up, et al

2007-02-16T20:41:00.000-05:00

You can find the 4th Edition of the Georgia Carnival of Bloggers here. I didn't have anything to submit this time, but I will try next time. Until then, I have plenty to read.

In other news: According to my statcounter, a google search from the Oklahoma Christian University of Science and Arts for "NUDE Ben Franklin" brought someone to my post here. It was Valentine's Day. I am not quite sure why the search specified "NUDE" in ALL CAPS.

Peace

..._

The Georgia Carnival: 3rd Edition

2007-02-02T22:45:00.000-05:00

The third edition of the Georgia Carnival of Bloggers is up here. Enjoy.

Peace

..._

Leave Him Alone, Frog!

2007-01-31T22:23:00.000-05:00

I try to teach my students courage. Specifically, I hope they will find the courage to stand up for the downtrodden, the outsider, the bullied. Sometimes I tell them about Sean.

I was an outsider in ninth grade. My one close friend, cruelly nicknamed Pumpkinhead (I have written about him here), was my friend because we had our outsider status in common. The previous year we had not spoken to each other because we had different best friends. I remember standing on the playground with my best friend and making fun of Pumpkinhead and his best friend with my best friend and feeling secure that we were better than them. At the end of eighth grade, Pumkinhead's friend left the school; my friend left the school too. As the only outsiders left, we found ourselves forced together by fate.

While Pumpkinhead and I spent most of our freshmen year throwing rocks at each other, I also found the time to learn a lesson in courage. Our ninth grade class was in the same PE class with the eighth grade. Most of the classes involved wrestling, basketball, and softball. One of the eighth graders was named Sean. I am sure that he too had a cruel nickname, but it eludes me at the moment.

Sean was shorter than average, stunted in growth, and possessed long, thin arms. His eyes were large and bulbous. His ears were impressive wings that always seemed to be clogged with a generous portion of wax. He was not merely the outsider of his class, but also of the school. He talked to no one. I don't remember him ever saying a word to me or anyone else. Various tales circulated concerning his level of intelligence, and some said that one or both of his parents had died. His head was permanently bowed, his eyes aimed only at his feet; this was not caused by any physical infirmity, but by an unwillingness to meet anyone's eyes with his own.

His lack of coordination, strength, and speed, and his body were sources of constant jokes at PE. It wasn't the insiders that mocked him; they were too important to be bothered by one so low. It was those on the periphery of the insiders that picked on Sean in hopes of capturing the attention of the insiders.

One of these insiders was Frog. Frog had come to school in the middle of the semester. Mrs. Plopper brought him by to introduce him to the class. We saw a curly-blonde head stick quickly into the door, blink, and then pop back out again. I think everyone had the same thought at the same time: "Frog." I don't remember his real name, but I shall forever remember those blinking eyes under a pile of curls. We had a nickname for him before we learned his real name.

Frog was a desperate wannabe. He didn't seem to understand that he could never be a true insider. He was cruel to Sean.

One day at dinner I mentioned to my family that Sean was being continually picked on by my class members. My older brother (a senior) wanted names. I reluctantly gave him a name and the next day my brother gave him a black eye. After that, I determined to never again use someone as a proxy in a fight that I should be fighting.

The next day at PE, Frog was ruthlessly mocking Sean during basketball. I knew what I had to do. With my heart beating so hard that I thought I was going to throw-up, I waited for Frog to lash at out Sean again. When he did, I lashed back with all of the power I could, "Leave him along, Frog!" All of my own years of pain as an outsider were put into the loathing that I put into the word, "Frog."

All three of us stopped running down the court. I was sure that Frog was going to beat me up. He just gave me a startled look, turned, and went down the court. Sean looked me in the eye. It was the first time he had ever looked me in the eye. I don't know what he was saying with his eyes. It seemed to be a mix of shock that someone would stand up for him, gratitude, an question asking what took so long, and a deep sadness.

Maybe he knew that I was, at heart, a coward. I left school that day proud of my accomplishment and sure that I would soon be able to stamp out injustice at my school. I never again stood up for him. For that I am forever shamed.

My shame does not end there. That summer, Pumkinhead's family was caught in a home fire. His parents and baby sister were killed, and his home destroyed. I heard about it on the news and read about it in the paper. I never tried to contact him though I knew I should.

Several years ago, I saw a wedding announcement for Pumpkinhead in the paper. It sounded like he was doing well. I hope he is having a good life. After ninth grade, I never saw Sean again.

Peace

...__

U2-charist

2007-01-29T22:34:00.000-05:00

I don't even know where to begin with this story:

From Breitbart:
The Pope may have condemned rock music as "anti-religion" but the Church of England has announced it is to use the songs of a global supergroup in an effort to boost congregations.

The first "U2-charist" in England, an adapted Holy Communion service that uses the Irish rock group's best-selling songs in place of hymns, is to be staged at a Lincoln church in May.

A live band will play U2 classics such as Mysterious Ways and Beautiful Day as worshippers sing along with lyrics which will appear on screen at St Swithin's parish church in the town-centre.

With theology like this, I can't understand why the Church of England would need to "boost congregations." If the Beatles could be bigger than Jesus, why can't U2 simply replace Him?

It is not clear from the article if this was U2's idea or if they have given the event their, er, "blessing." I hope not. If it were not completely consistent with the literal and symbolic emptiness of the Church of England, I would be tempted to disbelieve the entire story.

More:
The atmosphere will be further enhanced by a sophisticated lighting system that will pulse with the beat, and striking visual images of poverty and drought.

In America, we have a term for this type of event: a rock concert.

Peace

Donuts with Daddies Redux

2007-01-28T20:56:00.000-05:00

It was Donuts with Daddies day again at my son's school on Friday. I told about my previous adventure with DWD here. Once again, I got a tie and a book about me. According to my son:

Daddy works at "American School."
Daddy is "60 FEET" tall.
Daddy is "66" years old.
Daddy is happy when "I give him a gift on his birthday."
Daddy's favorite food is "sarl" (cereal).
Daddy likes to "Paly (Play) games on the comeputr (computer)."
Daddy and I like to "Fish".
If daddy were an animal, he would be a "bird."

The boy refused to eat his donut because it was too sticky. He wondered, "Why did they get these type of donuts." I think he was expecting to get the munchkins they had gotten last year. He had promised me a chocolate one.

The class entertained us with a song and then got the dads to join in on the Tootie-ta song. I wore the tie all day so I could brag all day about my boy. The tie will go on the rack next to the one from last year. There is plenty of room for more.

Peace

Intelligence Quotient: Updated

2007-01-19T16:48:00.000-05:00

Charles Murray, the controversial author of The Bell Curve, had a very interesting series at the WSJ's Opinion Journal this week. I disagree with a few of his premises, but agree with some of his conclusions.

Intelligence in the Classroom Half of all children are below average, and teachers can do only so much for them.

What's Wrong With Vocational School? Too many Americans are going to college.

Aztecs vs. Greeks: Those with superior intelligence need to learn to be wise.

Enjoy.

Peace

Update:

I meant to add a bit more commentary shortly after I posted these links, but I am in the midst of research paper season so I am glad to get the prompt to expand my comments. It wasn't really fair to say I agree with parts and disagree with parts of what Murray says without giving a hint of what I believe.

In brief, I appreciate Murray's attempt to restart the discussion he began with the publication of The Bell Curve. He has taken many undeserved and unfair hits since then (and some deserved), but he touches a number of taboos that most of us know but cannot discuss without seeming insensitive or elitist. Specifically, he argues that not all students are created equal in ability; some are more gifted intellectually (he measures this exclusively through IQ--a point I strongly disagree with) than others and no amount of schooling can change that.

I think that too often our schools have tried to make everyone feel equal. The only way to create this type of equality is to make everyone equal to the lowest achieving student. In other words, if our goal is universal education in which no child is left behind then the standards have to be set at a level that the least gifted child can achieve. No child will be left behind, but the rest of the students will have had to stay behind so as not to outpace that child. I don't believe that a child can do anything he or she dreams of. The sooner a student (and his or her parents) comes to understand his or hers limitations, the sooner he or she will be able to apply him or herself in an area of real ability. That doesn't mean that I believe that our efforts should only be on the gifted students. I believe that the purpose of education should be to push all students to achieve all that they can achieve. I think we have made great strides at reaching students who need more help, but we need to put the same energy into pushing the gifted to greater heights or we are in danger of achieving national mediocrity. Murray reports that only 1/100th of 1% of the Department of Education's budget in 2006 went to gifted programs and that the 2007 budget includes no money for gifted programs. That should not be. Our nation cannot continue to prosper by settling for basic standards, and Advanced Placement programs are no answer.

Murray also makes some fine points about the need to instruct gifted students (all students, in my opinion) in humility and responsibility. He is right in saying that our leaders need to be wise. I, however, do not think that they must possess a high IQ. I know too many intelligent people that I would not trust to care for my dead cat. Alexander Hamilton was most likely more intelligent than George Washington, but I would much rather have Washington leading my army or my nation. Granted, Hamilton did not exactly possess a high degree of humility, but few highly intelligent people do.

Murray does not quite come out and say it, but it seems that he would restrict gifted programs to those with high IQs. I think that would be waste of all of those with other types of giftedness. Brilliance has many more facets than IQ. Creativity, artistry, and talent are all areas in which schools need to create more avenues for advance.

Lastly, I see no other result from his package of proposals than student tracking based upon IQ. The tracking would have to begin in kindergarten, and a student would probably be labeled before middle school. This would be a great tragedy.

Peace

Carnival of Georgia Bloggers 2nd Edition

2007-01-19T16:35:00.000-05:00

The 2nd edition of the Carnival of Georgia Bloggers is up. Be sure to click here to see the great variety of blogging Georgians.
Peace

A Shot in the Dark

2007-01-16T21:01:00.000-05:00

My students never quite trust me when I teach the US Civil War. I suppose I deserve their distrust. I have two dark secrets that I feel compelled to disclose every year.

Before I reveal those secrets to you here, a little background is necessary. I teach in the Deep South, a region with strong feelings but often little knowledge about history. I have lived in Cobb County, one of Atlanta's many suburban counties, for the past thirty-two years of my life. Like much of the Atlanta area, it is a county that has undergone a rapid change as its rural heritage has been replaced by a typical suburban mix of homes, shopping centers, and Starbucks. These days, it actually makes the papers when an old family farm finally gives way to the never-ending need for neighborhoods that only recall their heritage in names like Brook Field, Morgan Farm, and others too many to mention.

But it is not only the county's rural heritage that has been under assault. The entire Atlanta region has seen its southern heritage watered down by an influx of hordes of Yankees. Sherman came in the 1860's. Lockheed came in the 1940's. IBM and many other companies came in the 1970's. I am not sure which has been more destructive of the local southern culture. It is not uncommon to go to a pro-sports event in Atlanta and see the hometown fans matched or exceeded in numbers by fans from places like New York or Chicago. Nearly every Civil War battlefield is now under a parking lot, apartment complex, or Starbucks.

The transition has not been without its tensions. I well remember my own high school history class debating the Civil War:
Yank transplant: "Who won the war?"
Local Rebel: "Who won most of the battles?"
Yank transplant: "Lee owned slaves!"Local Rebel: "Grant was a drunk!"
Yank transplant: "Who won the war?"
Local Rebel: "Who won most of the battles?"
You get the idea. I don't remember it going any deeper than that. I don't recall joining the debate. I didn't know which side to join. My soul was deeply conflicted by the fact that one of my dark secrets is that I was born in Poughkeepsie, New York. My dad worked for IBM and was transferred to Atlanta when I was five. Our neighborhood, named Bunker Hill in honor of the Bicentennial and, perhaps, to make us Yanks feel more welcome, was filled with Yankee transplants.

I was conflicted as soon as I began attending elementary school. I had been in the habit of calling my parents simply, "Mom" and "Dad." I soon picked up the habit of referring to them as, "Maya-me" and "Daya-de" until my dad told me quite vehemently to stop talking like that.

My students are always shocked to discover that I was born in the North. Some of them doubt that a place named “Poughkeepsie” actually exists. In a desperate attempt to reestablish my southern credentials, I explain that I was only born there by a fluke of timing. My mom is from Arkansas and my dad is from North Carolina. They reply, “Yeah…NORTH Carolina!” or “Arkansas? Isn’t that where Clinton is from? She’s a New York Yank!” Okay, I might be exaggerating, but my students’ conception of who their teacher is has been shaken. I continue to explain my true heritage by telling them that my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather came to Virginia in 1636. I tell them that I love sweet tea and will eat anything fried. In fact, my mother, at her wit’s end in her struggle to get me to eat vegetables, battered-up every vegetable fit to fry and dropped it in boiling oil. I ate fried okra, squash, zucchini, not to mention the fried chicken hearts and gizzards I got for a treat. I don’t volunteer that I find grits repulsive. It is all to no avail. I cannot now be trusted to teach the Civil War with any measure of objectivity.

It is usually at this point that I drop my second bombshell secret. My great, great grandfather may have been the one that killed Stonewall Jackson. As you may or may not know, Jackson was reconnoitering the battlefield at Chancellorsville at the end of a day that many say was his finest hour, when a group of North Carolina infantry challenged him in the half-light. Thinking Jackson and his staff was a force of Union cavalry, the North Carolina infantry opened fire. Jackson was hit once in his right hand and twice in his left arm (whatever you say about their judgment, at least the North Carolinians were good shots). His left arm would be amputated, but he would die from complications due to pneumonia on May 10, 1863, reportedly saying, “Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.” Lee was devastated by the news and remarked, “I have lost my right arm.” Indeed, when Lee needed Jackson later that year at Gettysburg, Jackson was not there, and Lee failed when he might have had his greatest victory. Lincoln would have never given his famous address, the Confederacy would have won the war, and all of American history would have been drastically different. I might be exaggerating again but who can tell?

According to a clipping from 1899 saved by my father’s family, “Mr. W.I. […], of near Bethel, an old Confederate, was in town Wednesday and told us a little about the part he took in the volley that killed Stonewall Jackson. He was in the brigade to guard the road with orders to let no one pass. Having just driven Hooker into his defenses at Chancellorsville, Gen. Jackson was very anxious to follow up the fruits of the battle and reconnoitering at night, and refusing to halt as demanded, was fired into by his own men and mortally wounded, on the night of May 2nd 1863, dying the 10th. Mr. […] was in the Brigade and fired at Jackson. Who hit him can not be known.”

I have replaced the last name of Mr. William Ivey with ellipsis to protect my family. He was my great, great grandfather. My students think he was Yankee spy.

I don’t know if revealing my secret Poughkeepsie-born, Stonewall Jackson-killing past makes it anymore difficult for my students to accept my criticisms of the South or not, but I hope they know I love the South and would like to see all that is good about the South preserved.

Peace

Monday Miscellany: A Little Bit Taller

2007-01-15T08:11:00.000-05:00

My eldest son turned six last week. He hopped out of bed on his birthday and asked, "Am I any taller today?"

His party went well. The temperature was in the low seventies so we strung up a Superman piñata in the back yard. Superman got pummeled, and no one got hurt. The bigger kids wanted to whack his head off, but his head was still attached even after he had given up his sugarcoated entrails (who knew that the source of his power was not the yellow light of Sol but Whoppers, Twizzlers, and Bottlecaps?). I must admit that it felt a little odd stringing up a human figure (or Kryptonian figure) from a tree in my back yard. Next year I shall insist on an inanimate object.

One can never predict what present will be a six-year-old's new favorite. He has certainly enjoyed his new light saber (Mace Windu's purple light-up one). It joins his red, spring loaded, light-up one and his battery-less blue and green ones. It is becoming quite the armory over here. But his favorite toy seems to be a single Lego brick. It is a red light-up brick that projects a beam of red light that has spent the past twenty-four hours vaporizing all manner of bad guys.

My wife already wrote a nice appreciation of our now six-year-old boy at her blog here. I will just add a few of my own thoughts to hers. I appreciate any boy that can create an Episode 7 of Star Wars in which the evil Dark Robot's head explodes at the end. I have seen it recreated in Lego numerous times; it is quite dramatic.

He had to go for his six-year-old check-up on his birthday. The last time he was there he had gotten a painful flushot and was not looking forward to the event. As soon as he entered the exam room, he saw the finger prick kit causing his anxiety level to rise appreciably. One can tell he is nervous when he starts playing with his fingers in his lap (the proverbial wringing of the hands). The anticipation was much worse than the actual pinprick. He is not fearless, but he is growing brave.

He is also having to learn discernment. He came home and showed us the birdie. He said a kid at school said that it meant that you didn't love Jesus. About the same time he started saying sarcastically, "Oh my God!" He has not repeated either since (at least in our view). He got in trouble on the bus for the first time last week.

He measured in at the doctors at 46 pounds and 46 inches. Both are average for his age. By objective standards he is just your average six-year-old kid, and I am just a typical parent who wants to freeze the passage of time so that an imaginative, bright, mystical boy won't grow up too fast.

Peace

Mr. Holland's Opus?

2007-01-10T19:22:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it seems that the stories about teachers are as positive as news reports from Iraq. I came across three such stories within moments today. It made me sad. Here are the titles, links, and a brief quote from each.

CNN.com:
School board fires teacher over controversial artwork
Murmer, a teacher at Monacan High School, was suspended in December after objections were raised about his private abstract artwork, much of which includes smearing his posterior and genitals with paint and pressing them against canvas.

Yahoo News:
Pa. teacher on trial found dead
Snyder was accused of taking pictures of boys in bikini briefs and other revealing clothing while they performed chores at his house. He was suspended from teaching at Southern Lehigh High School shortly after the charges were filed in 2005.

Ex-coach allegedly hits students in groin
A former high school basketball coach faces 39 charges for allegedly hitting male students in the groin, showing them pornography and pouring water on his players then driving them to games in the winter with the windows rolled down.

Peace

Monday Miscellany: Storm Warning

2007-01-08T08:15:00.000-05:00

A sound like a bag of potatoes slowly rolling down the stairs got my attention. It is becoming an all too familiar sound, as it was my three-year-old girl falling down the stairs. She has fallen down the stairs a lot lately, but I could tell from the sound of the tumble that this one was more serious than previous falls. My wife quickly put down a baby, and I ran from the computer, visions of broken bones and bloody faces dancing in our imagination. She was already screaming by the time we got to her. As my wife tried to calm her, I thought I heard something above the cries. Was one of the babies crying? Yes, when of the babies is always crying, but there was something else. I glanced at the TV and saw the scrolling warning of imminent weather and the advice to take cover immediately. I picked up the crying baby, turned the channel to a better local channel, and helped my wife look over the girl while trying to keep an eye on the Doppler radar. It was a tense few minutes but the storm blew over and the girl ended up with a cut on her gum and a loose tooth but, thankfully, no other obvious injuries. She got a free sno-cone for her troubles.

My five-year-old boy is not going to be five for very much longer. As soon as Christmas was over, he began planning his birthday party. He wants a surprise party. He wants to have people over to our house. He wants to get up in the morning and not be allowed to come downstairs until everything is ready (like Christmas). He wants a Piñata. He doesn't want any clothes for his birthday. He wants a chocolate cake with chocolate icing with blue stripes and sprinkles. He told us that there is no school on Friday. We asked, "Why isn't there school on Friday?" "It's my birthday." He insists that one doesn't have to go to school on one's birthday. He wants a new blue and a new green light saber like the red one he got for Christmas (he currently has four light sabers). I hope he is not disappointed.

My five-year-old boy is also becoming a bit of a mystic. He claims that on leaving my office (slowly becoming the Lego room) that he couldn't get out because God/Jesus was in his way. God told him that He had good news and that he was going to heaven. After that, he was allowed to leave. His momma asked his what he felt when God was in his way. His response was to blush and say, "Everything." Today, it happened again. God was in the bathroom with him, but didn't have anything to say.

My five-year-old boy is permitted to watch old Looney Toon cartoon when they come on (Bugs, Daffy, Elmer, etc). They seem to have done me no harm (if you count always visualizing Bugs in drag on a large horse whenever Ride of the Valkyries plays). I have begun to question our decision of late. The casual use of tobacco, the continual employment of drag, and the objectification of women used in those early cartoons is quite shocking by today's standards. Sure, there are no burp or fart jokes, but there are also few female characters. The other morning, an early Looney Toon was panning quickly through a montage of images when the image of an attractive and shapely woman flashed by, the scene stopped and backed up to show the image again before continuing to pan. My son let out a loud, "Woo-hoo." Oh, dear.

Peace

The Carnival of Georgia Bloggers

2007-01-05T06:24:00.000-05:00

Elementary History Teacher has begun the very first edition of The Carnival of Georgia Bloggers over here . I encourage you to check it out and to join the next edition if you are an interested Georgia blogger.

Peace

Monday Miscellany: The Living and the Dead

2007-01-01T20:46:00.000-05:00

The first morn of the new year saw the sun rise bright and shiny after several days of overcast and rain. After being restricted to indoor activities for several days, I needed a long walk to clear my head. So I struck out with a determination to walk down at least one road that I had never walked down before.

The world was still wet, and the debris of the previous night’s bacchanalities was scattered about the neighborhood: the shattered paper casings of fireworks, broken liquor bottles, beer cans, and an unfired 9mm hollow point bullet. The sight of the bullet brought my walk to a sudden pause. The bullet lay in the street feet from where my son normally stands to wait for the bus. The neighborhood has shown some troubling signs of late. The police have been at the neighbor’s house at least three times in the last four months. They were there at least once with guns drawn. During a walk last summer, I found a knife in the grass only twenty yards from where I found the bullet.

Unsure what the exact protocol was for finding an undischarged bullet, I pocketed the bullet and continued my walk. I moved my camera and keys to the other pocket when the irrational story line flashed through my imagination, “Teacher maimed by bullet accidentally set off by camera in pocket.”

I am not sure what drew me into the cemeteries on this day. On a day of celebration for the possibilities of a new year, I ended up meditating on those lost to the past. I visited two cemeteries over the course of my perambulation.

One is ancient (by local standards) and has been ostensibly adopted by the county police department as a part of the county “adopt a cemetery” program. It sits long out of use, neglected and overgrown, sandwiched between a suburban neighborhood and a church. The cemetery is quite small and cars roar past on the four-lane road bearing drivers oblivious that the little copse of trees houses the eternal resting place of the remains of a few dozen souls.

The other cemetery is nearly as old but is still in use. That is, fresh bodies are still being added. The further one walks into it, the older the remains one comes across until one finally comes to an area of unfinished and uninscribed stones. Simple rocks rise from the grass where they were placed with care over a hundred years ago. Some have fallen over, never to rise again. A few family plots are still well maintained. A handful of headstones have been filled out with all but the date of death and the body to be added. Plastic flowers look to have been recently added to several graves and not so recently to several others.

I have an odd fascination with cemeteries. My interest is part historical curiosity and part fear of mortality. The inscriptions, the dates, the names, and the groupings tell a story that moves me to melancholy. An incomplete story, but a story made all the more tragic by the fact that all of the principal characters are dead and no one remembers their tales. One is struck by ironic headstones claiming, "Gone, but not forgotten" while crumbling with neglect and standing over sunken graves. I am stirred by the challenge to interpret the little information I am given into the semblance of a narrative that will honor those buried beneath me.

I came across the grave of a Korean War veteran and his wife. They (or someone) chose to add the date of their marriage to their headstone); that date was 1953. One can guess that he came home from the war and got quickly married.

Every male in the very large Rogers family served in the Coast Guard during World War II (I think I counted six of them).

One comes across heartbreaking tragedy. Beside one couple’s headstone were five miniature headstones; each was for a child that died in infancy and was a reminder of the precarious nature of life a hundred years ago.

I was startled to come across a couple that shares my family name. Edward H. lived from 1903-1953 and Ethel M from 1903-1986. I have a fairly unique surname. I wonder if they are related to me somehow. I shall probably never know.

On my way out I came across three headstones that still have me wondering. The one for Sarah Frances Green first got my attention.

The simple inscription, “Our loved one”, drew me in for a second look. She was only twelve when she died. Her parents are buried right next to her. Her father was a Mason. There are no other family graves. The inscription "Our loved one" seems to imply she was an only child. What tragedy took her? Illness or an accident? Perhaps a mishap with one of the new motorcars? How many times did her mother travel to her daughter's grave over the fifty-three years ensuing years before she herself was laid to rest between her loved one and her husband, or was the pain too strong to bear?

Standing over their graves, the feeling that overwhelms me is not sadness in Sarah Frances' death, but the very loss of her memory. Mostly likely, no one alive today knows why she died. What is on that tombstone is probably the only record of her that survives that anyone is likely to see or read. No one lives who remembers her laugh, or her voice, or the color of her hair. No one can tell me what it was about her that made her “Our loved one.”

It is prospect of discovering stories that draw me into cemeteries. It was stories that drew me into the history profession. One day, I hope to bring a group of students to a cemetery on the first day of class to get them thinking about the creation of stories from evidence and the tragedy of forgotten history. The way I see it, a cemetery is a great big primary source. Until then, I shall wonder where this bullet in my pocket came from.

Peace

Meet the Twin Boys at Four and a Half Months

2007-01-01T17:34:00.000-05:00

Shortly after the twin boys were born I posted brief introductions to the personalities of the newborns. What struck us most then was how different they already seemed to be. You can read the original posts here and here.

2006 was very good and very challenging to our now family of six. The twins have been a great blessing to us. Here is what they have grown into:

Twin A (the first-born and smallest)
Weighed 14 pounds and 1 ounce at his last dr's visit (just before Christmas)
Has prominent blue veins on his head
Has a crooked smile
Tends to be very stiff and intense
Only poops about once a day now (his overpooping and underpooping have been concerns)
Has been on antibiotics once
Seems to be getting another ear infection (this was chronic with his sister who took ear tubes and surgery; she just got over another one)
Is teething with nothing to show for all the drooling
Is talkative
Is mostly bald
Seems to say "ma.ma.ma.ma" when he is crying
Has beautiful blue eyes
Loves to run in place while laying on his back (especially after coming off Benadryl or while nude)
Enjoys watching TV
Has a narrower face than his brother though they are starting to look more alike
Is a fitful sleeper
Has has a clogged tear duct in his left eye since birth

Twin B (the second-born and largest)
Weighed 15 pounds and 6 ounces at his last dr's appointment (just before Christmas)
Is very floppy and laid back
Looks at you like you are the greatest thing in the world
Melts right in to whoever is holding him
Is very talkative
Is mostly bald (has a bulging vein on the back of his head; his doctor told us not to let him shave his head when gets older (for aesthetic, not medical reasons))
Enjoys watching TV
Has big beautiful blue eyes
Has a round, happy face that lights up the room
Calms down very easily (once he gets fed)
Is a very intense eater
Tries to take out his pacifier and put it back in (he has the taking out part down, but struggles with putting it back in)
Likes to be held or in visual range
Is helping me write this post
Is a manly burper
Is a good sleeper
Likes to hold onto a blanket or towel

They are both much loved by us all.

Can you tell which is which?

Peace

Bumbo Babies

2006-12-26T13:14:00.000-05:00

The twins got Bumbo seats for Christmas. They are from South Africa and are all the rage among hip moms. I think they are pretty funny.

Don't laugh at me--you look pretty funny too!

Twin A's first girlfriend.

More photos at my Flickr account here.

Peace

Sick Boy: Updated

2006-12-21T10:54:00.000-05:00

This is the big twin. His mother took the picture. He is going to the doctor today. He will probably be the third member of our family to be diagnosed with an ear infection. Little twin was diagnosed yesterday and three year old girl was diagnosed Monday. No one is getting much sleep right now.

Peace

UPDATE: It was not an ear or sinus infection, merely viral. Everyone in the house seems to have it.

Door into Winter, Part Four

2006-12-17T07:32:00.000-05:00

Our Christmas door won the award for "Originality."

Last weekend I was at the computer with my headphones on, enjoying a game of Civilization IV and some DMB, when my wife exclaimed, "There's someone at the door!" It was 9:30pm on a Friday night; who could be at the door? I opened the door to find a group of carolers. They sang a couple of songs with great gusto, but not so much talent and piled into a large black SUV and drove off (we did not invite them in--the house was not ready for visitors). My wife and I have laughed for days about it.

The seven young men (six seniors and one sophomore) were my students. A couple of them had mentioned they might come a-caroling a couple of weeks ago, but I had written if off as typical teenager hyperbole. A few days before, a student had asked me how I would feel if I got t-p'ed. I have gone ten years as a teacher without such a blessing so I equivocated and told him that my neighbors probably wouldn't appreciate it. In retrospect, I think they were trying to plan some kind of event and couldn't decide between a good t-p or caroling. That they actually surveyed me to find out my preference is rather endearing. I approve of their choice.

Peace

Door into Winter, Part Three

2006-12-11T20:14:00.000-05:00

I have been writing about the Christmas door decorating contests at my school. You can read the previous two installments here and here.

One year, I had a class of underachievers in a US History class. We spent a number of days planning outrageous things that I would never actually allow. At last, one of my students said, "I have a mounted deer's head at home. Let's stick it on the door." From that moment of inspiration we came up with an award-winning door that was both simple and unique. We mounted the deer's head on the door, put a red nose on it, and put a big sign above it that said, "Doing our part to restore the true meaning of Christmas." Under that was a list of the names of each of the reindeer with most of their names crossed off.

Fortunately, our high school is in a separate building as the lower school.

Our door for this year is complete and was judged this morning. No word on the winner though two judges had good things to say about it later in the day. Sadly, I cannot share the details of this door as it gives away my secret identity. Those of you in the know, it is a play on "I've been dreaming..."

Last thing: I got a google hit for "Christmas door decorating contest". How about that?

Peace

Door into Winter, Part Two

2006-12-06T18:35:00.000-05:00

For part one, click here.

My favorite door was my last one. We cut out a simple green tree on a white background and hot glued sugar gum drops to the tree. We then stuck a toothpick into each sugar gum drop and hung a white ornament from each toothpick. Around each ornament we tied a yellow ribbon. We wrote this letter and pasted it to the door:

Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘Round the Christmas Tree

This year, as hundreds of thousands of US troops are deployed around the world, it is our hope that you will take a moment to pause and reflect on the sacrifices made by these brave men and women. Many of them will be putting their lives in danger throughout the Christmas season. All of them would prefer to be home with their families. Few of them will have a Silent Night. Some of them will die.

We ask that you would take one of these ornaments for your own tree at home. Each one has the name of a country where US troops are presently deployed. The yellow ribbon has not only become a symbol of the desire for all of our troops to return home safely, but will also draw the eye to this uncharacteristic color for a Christmas tree. When you see this ornament, we ask that you say a short prayer for the safety of our troops, the protection of their families, and peace to all.

We also ask that you take the time to read a sampling of letters from troops away from their homes at Christmas during the American Civil War.

Finally, we ask for a renewed dedication to the preservation of our civil liberties and our unique American heritage so that these sacrifices shall not have been in vain.

“Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13

I should probably do the same door until it is no longer necessary to have our boys and girls overseas.

Peace

Door into Winter

2006-12-04T18:51:00.000-05:00

Update (11/12/2007) Other ideas for Christmas door decorating: Door into Winter II, Door into Winter III, and Christmas Door Decorating Contest.

The SGA at my school sponsors a Christmas door decorating contest every year. We missed it last year (on account of a new advisor), but it is back this year. The first period in a classroom gets the task of decorating their door with prizes awarded for creative, spiritual, and overall. My AP US class is my first period this year, and we brainstormed for eight minutes this morning (that is all the time I could spare). Most of the ideas involved a nude Ben Franklin. I should have never mentioned Franklin's tendency towards naturism (he called it taking an "air bath")as it has become a running gag in class. The one good idea involved using the famous Washington Crossing the Delaware painting and inserting cut out pictures of the members of the class in place of the characters on the painting. I would be Washington. Washington crossed the Delaware on Christmas night to surprise the Hessians on the other side leading to one of Washington's finest victories of the war. The painting is, of course, pure patriotic fluff, but wonderful fluff all the same.

I thought I would give you a taste of doors past this week. Only my first two doors failed to win, but only because my first could not win and the second was bad. That first door was also created by an AP US History class. We simply taped a single piece of white paper to the door that stated:

In protest of the crass commercialization of Christmas, our class would like to humbly present the idea that Christmas is not about contests but is, instead, about the birth of our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ:

In Class, December 7, 2001. The unanimous Declaration of the six united students of AP US History,

When in the course of Christmas events, one class decides to separate itself from the bonds of Christmas Door Contests, it becomes necessary to declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all doors are created equal, that they are endowed by their maker with certain swinging motions, that among these are locking, opening and closing.

That whenever any form of contest becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the class to alter or abolish it, and to institute new contests, laying its foundation upon such principles as to them shall seem most likely to effect an understanding of the true meaning of Christmas.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the AP United States of America class, in General Congress, assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of this contest, declare that Christmas is not about contests, decoration, winning or losing, or prizes. Instead, Christmas is and shall ever be about the promise of redemption of fallen man by the birth of the Jesus.

And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, Our Fortunes and our Sacred Door.

The entire class signed it, and we lost. The judges even went to the extraordinary measure of calling us out over the intercom when announcing the winners. They said something to the effect, "Any doors that removed themselves from the contest could not be awarded a prize." They had a point but missed ours.

Peace

Seeing Stars

2006-11-30T21:36:00.000-05:00

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