Did you see this article in the Star Tribune? It's brilliant, and it's funny because it's true! My neighbors and I have already had a vigorous discussion about it (they disagree...and the word "transplant" was used when explaining how I can think the way I do).
The other way I know that sarcasm is lost is in my recent post on MN Speak (and I have no problem saying that since management turned over the site has REALLY changed). Yes, I did in fact make mention (as I did in a previous post here) that I find it ridiculous that our government passed this law and that they are using it to show they can actually get things done, but when I made mention of education, the roads, and such, I was being sarcastic. I know what our government has and hasn't done. My issue is that they are proud of the fact they passed a meaningless bill that will be impossible to enforce.
I don't like talking about politics, because it brings out the zealots who attempt to nuke the conversation to win instead of listening and trying to understand others' viewpoints. Sigh.
On with the ramblings.
So, without further ado: BUT I LIKE A COOKIE!
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Week in Review:
I love being a teacher. There are days when it's harder than passing a kidney stone, but I love being a teacher. There are some really rewarding days when the students get into it, and we rock and roll. Then there's this past week. Over five days, we had one good one and four bad ones.
The students have checked out. We have four weeks left, but the final week is essentially finals, so we really have only three weeks left. My students couldn't care less, and the teachers tell me, "Don't teach anything new, because the students won't listen. Don't set them up to fail." My teachers beat the crap out of me until the final bell. We learned new information in my world history class the day before the final...and then had to write an essay on that info. I'm just glad I listened.
As I said, somedays are bad. It's not that every class is bad, but one bad class along with two other indifferent classes (or three if you get coverage) can just make it a rotten day.
Here's the summation of what destroyed me last week:
1. Students going on vacation early. The students have a final project for The Odyssey. They have to work in groups and give a presentation to the class. They're freaking out (and they should, it's worth 200 points and can either help or destroy their grade). I'm being a very benevolent dictator and giving them time in class (everyday last week) to work on the project. Most are screwing around and not working. I'm not going to be lenient.
However, the issue here isn't their lack of work ethic, but the fact that some parents are going on vacation now and taking the kids with them. I have 110 kids I work with over the course of a day. Twenty-five are missing class during the course of this week. Some are already gone and won't return until after Memorial Day (So close to the end of the year? What are these parents thinking?), while others are leaving on Thursday or Friday.
I get that parents get short vacations and need to take them when they can, but I've got one parent whose kid is failing (I mean getting an "N" folks....We don't use "F" anymore.), and he is pulling his daughter for the whole week. She's missing the project. She can't get a partner (I'm letting her work alone), but I don't see her doing the project on the 30th. They are setting her up for failure. I have a back-up plan for her, but is it fair that she does something else because her parents want to go to the Bahamas?
2. Students feeling "Springy". Here's a tip to all my students who read this (I know a few of you do): If you skip my class on a test day, and I see you screwing around either in town or outside the school, you don't get to make up the test. You can beg, you can attempt to bribe, but it ain't happening. I have one student who decided that she wasn't going to take my test because it, "was a nice day," as she told her friends. I was told she, "was sick." Oops. Even if she was sick, I shouldn't have seen her attempting to ollie (jumping with a skateboard) outside the school at the end of the day. If you're so stupid that you think your teacher won't notice you as he or she is leaving for the day...when you missed a test, you deserve that zero.
However, that's not the only Spring issue. I had to boot two kids the other day because they were shoving each other around the room. When I wrote them up, they started begging so they wouldn't miss the dance.
I had another student refuse to move away from a girl and instead wanted to be sent out (and thereby suspended). I booted him, and he didn't even go to the office, just walked off. Never a good idea.
I get that in Spring, most kids minds go...uh...loopy, but holy hell, folks. Some of these kids are down right idiotic. "I'd rather be suspended than move one seat." That's just idiotic. He just wanted an excuse to miss class (he's going to fail, sadly).
The ultimate, however, came from a student WHO BIT ME. She was mad, so she grabbed my hand and bit it. She didn't break the skin, but left teeth impressions that stayed for two days.
What is wrong with these kids? It's Spring and their horomones and such are out of control. Hard to teach with that happening.
3. Non-caring Teachers. I get along with most of my colleagues. There are a few who have issues with me, but I don't care. However, some of the teachers have checked out for the year. Their students are wandering the hallways, coming to my class instead of their own, and these teachers don't care. It makes it hard on the rest of us.
Sigh.
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Movie Theatres:
I still believe in going to movie theatres. I do. I really like sitting there and watching the film on that big screen, but it's difficult at times when the audience is obviously not used to it or doesn't care about it. The other night my wife and I went to the AMC movie theatre in Maple Grove. It's a nice facility with large screens and clean spaces. That's good. As we sat in the theatre waiting for the previews to finish, I looked back at the projector room to see two guys yelling at each other and pointing at the projector. The film strip was too dark. It was obvious that the bulb in the projector was broken and needed to be changed. They stopped the film and started to fix it. The film was supposed to start at 8:05, but didn't start until 8:40 (they had issues). What angered me wasn't the theatre, but the audience. The management apologized for the trouble and gave out coupons. The audience turned on them, yelled at them, and then demanded their money back...but be allowed to watch the film. There were a bunch of teenagers trying to be cool and making fun of people, even going so far as the throw stuff at them (ice, popcorn, and later change). On the other end, however, there were parents with kids yelling about bedtimes. They just sat and bitched. Yes, that is their right, but come on...who does it help? Just relax and wait. It's not that hard.
On a side note, I did find it interesting that one of the teenagers who was posing (yes, he was a poser to the nth degree) was afraid to use the urinals in the bathroom. There were five urinals open (I was at one end) and he went into a stall. You can't be a tough guy and then be afraid of the guy at the urinal, Senor Poser.
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Picture is worth how much?
They say a picture is worth 1,000 words. This is from a story in the New York Daily News about the NRA expo that was held in New York recently.
There is so much I can say about this, but again, I try not to talk about politics and such.
I can say two things:
1. Dennis, I've got your next photo caption contest.
2. Is anyone else disturbed by that fact that she's in a Bjorn and attempting to grab a pistol. Do you think there's some guy out there who looks at this picture with a girl and a gun and thinks, "Oh yeah. A few years from now...she's mine," and then...uh...does something naughty?
Hope you've had a great weekend. Summer is coming as is graduation.
Namaste.

Has It Really Come To This? (5/19/06)

The Minnesota House of Representatives passed a bill 114 to 17 that would levy fines on minors caught buying or renting M or AO rated games.
Bill SF0785 "prohibits a person under the age of 17 from knowingly renting or purchasing a restricted video game and prohibits an owner of a retail establishment or an employee from renting or selling a restricted video game to a person under the age of 17." Violators would be fined up to $25.
The bill has already passed the Minnesota Senate and could become a law by August 1, if Governor Tim Pawlenty signs off on it.

So this is what it's come to? We need to pass a law to stop kids from buying or renting the "wrong kinds" of games? Come on! Seriously?

This is ridiculous. It won't work, folks. The more you make it unacceptable, the harder these kids are going to try and get these games. The fine is $25. That's nothing for some of these kids. If they can shell out $600 for a PS3, do you really think $25 is going to stop them? Why are we wasting our time? This isn't going to solve anything. Great to see our tax dollars at work, isn't it?

The Definition of Ironic: Random Edition I

I wanted to post this yesterday, but I got really busy.
There are so many times when I wish I had a camera with me (I'm not Margaret...or like most MNSpeakers), but this is too perfect to not talk about this morning.
I drive home on 94W everyday. Sometimes I take 394, sometimes I just go to Dowling Ave, and sometimes I go down 55. A multitude of ways of getting home.
Back to the point. As I made my way toward the Lowry Tunnel, I saw two cars pulled over on the side of the road. Two men were standing nose to nose and screaming at each other. Traffic was slow enough (because of YOU DAMN RUBBERNECKERS) that I could see this. It looked as though a major fight was going to break out.
Now the reason why this is ironic is because above these men was the Minnesota Public Radio electronic sign which flashes the headlines of what the people on MPR are talking about that day. As these men are standing toe to toe ready to battle, the sign flashes to its new headline. I look up and it says:

Road Rage Down in Minnesota.

Pink Bats

I find it fascinating how Major League Baseball put out pink bats for all the players in honor of breast cancer.
In case you don't follow sports, all baseball players were given pink baseball bats to use today. The bats are going to be auctioned off for charity with the proceeds going to breast cancer research. This is a noble cause. However, according to a few different sources, only a few baseball players across the WHOLE league used the pink bats. Oh, they used them during batting practice as they were required to do so. They had to use the bats in order for the "game-used bat" tag for the auctions not to be a lie. However, only a few players used the bats during the games. Some readily accepted them, but others, well...they flipped.
Now, you may ask, "Why is this important?"
Because the reasons these guys won't use the other bats are amazing to me. Here are a few.
1. A player on the New York Mets (my favorite team) said he wouldn't use the bat because he wouldn't look good. The pink bat would be fodder for his teammates to make fun of him. Regardless of the fact that these guys are adults and being paid millions and can deal with thousands of people booing them, they can't take a little ribbing from teammates?
2. Superstition. A player for the New York Yankees said he couldn't use the bat because he knew it would end his current hitting streak. If he was to switch the bat, it would give him bad mojo. He also can't touch the first base line when he runs off the field.
3. Weight. This one I understand. The bats are made by a specific company. If you use the bat, it's weight may be different from what you're used to and can change your swing. But...baseball is a game of minute changes. You have to adjust. So, if you don't do well on your first at-bat, you can change for the next. Still, I can understand how changing equipment can be a problem.
However, the real reason many of them would not do it is....
4. Fear. Fear of being called a homosexual or made fun of. I'm not kidding. Ask Torii Hunter who said, "My dad is watching and I know what he would say." (Look at the Fox 9 news clip.)
Even though our society has grown a great deal, homosexuality is still not accepted in ANY sport. Pink means you're a girl which, for many of these ball players, makes them "queer".
They are afraid that people will say, "Hey, Hunter is gay because he swings a pink bat."
Maybe I'm overreacting, but come on. It's one game and it's for a good cause. Can't these guys overcome this fear for one game?
Can you defend this? Sure. Maybe it's because they need their bat (the superstition thing or the weight thing), but if you're a ball player and you wouldn't use it because you're afraid it makes you "gay", you need to grow up.
This just shows me I shouldn't write when I'm tired.
Plus I owed you a short post because my last few were too long....

Happy (sort of made-up) Holiday!!!

Yes, it's Mother's Day. The one day of the 365 and 1/4 days in a year that we are supposed to celebrate how fantastic our mother (or mothers or grandmothers or whatever) are.
I am not a fan of this holiday, nor is my own mother. She and I are of a like mind about today: It's a day that has been pushed by companies as a way to make a ton of money.
Now, am I really saying that you buying your mommalah flowers for today makes you a pawn of "The Man"? No. It means that you love your mother...but you feel you have to give a physical manifestation of that love.
Let's start at the beginning.
There is a historical background to Mother's Day, believe it or not (Look Here for proof). Yes, the Ancient Greeks did celebrate Rhea, but notice that it really isn't until only 134 years ago that someone went, "Hey, let's celebrate the mothers for all that they do!" Less than a hundred years ago (1914), President Wilson stepped forward and said, "National Holiday for MOMS!!!"
That being said, it's only been the last few years that stores have REALLY pushed the "Buy it...for MOM!" aspects of this time of year. I was in Brookdale Mall the other day (sadly), and a jeweler (I won't name the store) followed me across the outside of the store trying to explain to me why I needed to purchase a $3,000 necklace for my mom. "She did raise you, you know," was his plea.
As I said before, if you bought something for your mom or you sent a card, that doesn't make you a pawn. It shows you love your mom. That's great. For me, I just don't like the aggressive campaigns.
YOU forgot to buy your mother a gift?! How dare you spurn the woman who only went through HOUR UPON HOUR of labor FOR YOU!!!! You will burn in HEEEELLLLLLLLL!!!!
You get the idea.
This year I bought my mother and my sister (who is a mother as well)...nothing. I also bought my wife's mother, grandmothers, and aunts...nothing. I wished them well and told them, "Have a happy Mother's Day!" I think that's enough. Why? Because why do I need to give them something to show how much I appreciate them for being a mother? Is that what we have become? It feels like the conversation goes like this:

I love you!
Do you really? Then why don't I have a new cell phone?
Because love is something that shouldn't be turned into a physical item...it's a feeling.
Really? Because Jeff bought his mom a Hi-Def DVD Player. He loves his mom enough to spend $1,000. Besides don't you expect gifts on your birthday? This is the same thing. You're giving a gift to show how you love her for all she's done.
But why isn't it enough for me to say, and on more than just ONE day I might add, "Hey Moms! You are so vital, and I thank you so much for all you have done," to them? And why am I celebrating other moms besides my own? I get why I thank my mom. I get why, if I had a kid, I thank my wife, but why is it that I suddenly have to give a gift to my wife's aunt who I have only known for six years and really didn't do anything for my wife other than be related to her? I don't like being told I'm a bad person because I just called my mom and sister and said, "You rock, dude!" Oh, and I don't expect anything on my birthday. I don't even get upset if people forget to call. It's just a day...like any other. My wife's parents for the last three years have called her on the wrong day (twice the day after, once a week late). She doesn't care.
This shows me that you don't care. Your wife's aunt was there and may have given advice. Plus she has survived two children with issues. Have you? No! That's why you do it.
Because she's a survivor? Then let's celebrate all survivors! Holocaust Day...with cards. National Day of Recognition for Burn Victims...with salve! Look, I'm sick of all these "days"! We have a day for pirates, a day for secretaries (which should probably be administrative assistant day, but whatever), and even a national PET day! Come on! If I was bitter, I would ask where National Teacher Day is. I mean there are cards for secretaries, but nothing for teachers.
A-HA! That's what it is. You're bitter about not being recognized.
No. That's not it. I don't care about that, because that would be a made-up day done only to sell merchandise. You want to recognize your teacher? At the end of the year, thank him or her for all the work they have done to help you. Don't bring an apple. Don't bring a card. Just say, "Mr or Ms or Mrs. X. Thank you so much for everything." Back to the point now. It's the same thing with Father's Day. There they pimp golf clubs and such. It's really less about showing appreciation and more about getting goods sold. You want to make a good mother's or father's day? Give them the day off from work on a weekday and allow them free entrance to places they can go with kids.
That's just as bad. You're saying that people who AREN'T parents should have to work. That's discrimination.
Maybe, but is that any worse than trying to make someone feel bad because they didn't spend hundreds of dollars on someone. I recently explained to a woman in Williams-Sonoma that I would be buying NOTHING for Mother's Day. Her reponse was, "Wow, you really don't like your mother, do you?" Why is that the decider?
I could go on and on, but you get the point.
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So, what am I doing for Mother's Day for my mom? Well, here it is:
Mom. Happy Mother's Day. I love you very much. Of the course of twenty-seven year, you have been an amazing guide and teacher in all aspects of life. I know that they sense of humor I have is because of you. I mean how many people out there truly can make jokes about the language used by Shakespeare (booge)? How many people can turn easily from laughing about someone's 13th car crash to having an intellectual discussion about Quartos and Octvos (which I can't spell)?
So, Mom, in honor of this (sort of made-up) day, I present one of my favorite stories about our escapades (instead of icecapades).
New York, August of 2001. My wife and I are visiting my family in New York. My parents, in honor of my wife and I being newly married and having our first trip to my home as man and wife, decided to have a very nice and very fancy brunch at the Plaza Anthenee Hotel. This was five-star dining, folks. Very chic and very expensive.
As brunch went on, my mother and I started discussing my old high school and its plans to get money from alumni. It seems that the school had created a new department called The Office for Development of Alumni Relations. It was known as ODAR (pronounced Oh-Dahr). My mother and I were feeling punchy, so we started riffing on ODAR making it into a he and making him into an intergalactic villain out to get money. As we kept playing and laughing, the people around the room turned and stared at the two people (that would be my mother and me) with red faces and tears streaming down their faces who were laughing loudly. My wife, bless her, was utterly embarrassed. How dare I go to an extremely fancy place that Donald Trump, of all people, dines at, and act like a buffoon (she would learn over the course of the years)! It got worse. The name of the dinnerware was Alumicron. That set us off again. ODAR's nemesis became Alum-icron. I don't think my mother and I have ever laughed so hard as we did making up stories about the two men and their battles. My family began to ignore us in the hopes that we would stop. At one point my father and my wife both said, "We are in a NICE restaurant, you two...grow up." We ignored them.
The reason this story resonates with me so strongly is because it is the perfect representation of the relationship I have with my mother. She raised me right. I like to believe I'm polite, respectful, and such, but she also instilled in me a wicked sense of humor (of course this was possible because HER mother told her, "YOU will have a child just like you." Little did she know....). My mother and I can help each other out when we need help, but we also make each other laugh. When my mother is down or upset, I know what to say to make her laugh. When I was worried about teaching and whether I would be good or not, my mother was able to help and make me feel better. She's awesome.
I love my mother. I have no problem admitting it. All through school, I would hear kids talk about how much they hate their moms and how their moms did not understand them. I never had that problem. Maybe it's a third-child thing...I don't know.
So, Mom, happy Mother's Day, and thanks for all the fantastic things you have done and taught me over the years. Who knows, maybe I'll have a child just like me one day, and the three of us can laugh together.
But wait, there's more!
My sister is also a mother. She has a very precocious toddler (who is in the "TERRIBLE TWOS" phase of her life). My lovely sister will not admit this, but she is a good mother. She has managed to keep my niece alive for two years now. Beyond that, this child is very smart and very outgoing (it's adorable...really). Sister One has managed to raise this child while maintaining a career as a journalist and editor. It's quite amazing to see her balance the career.
If you need proof how much my sister loves her daughter, this story will illuminate:
It has been raining on the East Coast for several days now (not unlike here in Minnesota). My sister wanted to let my niece get a chance to run around, so they went to an indoor gym. MJ (my niece) is only two years-old, but she loves people. She runs up to boys in particular and tries to play with them (and sometimes hug them). MJ went and started playing near some older boys (who were around 11 or so). They decided to destroy the fresh meat and shoved my niece off the structure. My niece got up and went up again, only to be shoved again and get a bloody lip. My sister, seeing all of this, ran in to save the day and called the boys on their bad behavior.
"Apologize for what you did, please," she said to them.
"Fuck off!" they replied.
My sister kept her cool. In the old days before MJ, she would have made those boys disappear and got away with it (she is an evil genius). Instead, she told the boys they were being bad and not polite.
Upon seeing this, the boy's mother came over and attempted to Springer my sister.
"You don't talk to my boys! I'll take you down, bitch!" (Yes, this woman did have the full-on female mullet.)
My sister, again, kept her cool. Management had disappeared (of course), and the woman REALLY wanted to throw down. My sister calmly explained to the woman that her boys had bloodied my niece's lip and how they needed to have more self-control. She made the woman see that she needed to be a parent instead of a friend.
My sister and niece left that gym and returned home to play, but I'm very proud of my sister. In becoming a mother, she has learned amazing self-control. Much like all the kids in my family, my sister has the "ANGER" gene. We get passionate which is only a step away from full-on-anger at times. She has learned to control her feelings (much better than even I have). That's why I'm so proud of her for what she's done with my niece. It has been very difficult balancing her life, but she has done it and done it well.
So, to my sister, happy Mother's Day. You are a spectacular mother. Revel in it. It's rare I give compliments.
And if you're a mother reading this, have a good day.
Namaste.

Conference Time

So, post number 300. Woooo.
It's conference time again. That's right. Yours truly will be sitting in the cafeteria all by his lonesome watching as zero parents come to talk to him. It's true. Not a parent has signed up to talk to me AGAIN. Sigh.
I've decided to do a live blog from the actual conferences. Yeah for you!!!
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4:13
I've been here for ten minutes now. One parent has already stopped to talk to me. This was my only signed-up parent (The list changed this morning). Great conversation. I heard all about how Student X's dad can't make it because of gall bladder surgery and etc. Just what you want to hear.
On the plus side, I actually have a sign this time...and my own table. Spacious...for a freaking cafeteria.
The parent sitting near me reeks of salmon...I kid you not. I guess that's mean, but I'm also really sick, so I don't care. It's also a million degrees in hear. A little man in an orange robe just burst into flames. Ooops, that might have been in poor taste.
Sadly, this almost feels like an episode of 24.
I'm waiting for Jack Bauer to call me.
So, things that happened this week. Well, Prom is over. My understanding was that it did not go well. ne of my colleagues showed up for pictures (as he usually does) and he did not enjoy himself. Still, he got his picture, which is what he wanted.
Several students came to me on Monday and expressed their displeasure. You have to understand, I have hall duty outside the nurse's office everyday at 10. If I don't show up, STUDENTS COME LOOKING FOR ME IN MY OFFICE! The other day I was ten minutes late due to a meeting, and I was given hell for it by a few students. "Mr. Leab! How dare you come late!" they yelled at me.
Back to the point, It seems that I am supposed to always be available for crisises and such. These kids seek me out to discuss all of life's problems. I'm not upset by it, but it does lead me to wonder what the point of an in-school counselor is. If I'm helping students with understanding the "why's" of life, what are the counselors really for?
For example, a senior came to me today to discuss why he/she isn't upset about graduating. "Is it bad if I don't care if I see any of these people (other students) ever again?" Thus starts a lengthy conversation where I am supposed to be the guru. Every conversation feels like it needs to be prefaced with, "This is just my opinion. Nothing more, but....."
Hang on, another parent....
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4:30
I just met one of my advisee's parents. They are "Stone Cold Rockers" as I was told.
My colleague to my left just mentioned that he is now "too fat" for his Santa Suit. That's hysterical! How can you be TOO FAT of the suit? Awesome.
Anybody read the Pioneer Press yesterday? They had a huge ad in the paper for the St. Paul Teachers...
Hang on a minute.
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4:40
Wow, a teacher being told, "You rock!" by a parent is very odd. Oh well. Back to the story.
There was an ad thanking the St. Paul teachers for all their work. I was in there. Hey, my school keeps forgetting about me, but the district? They are well aware of everything. My wife, who never reads the paper, heard about it from one of her colleagues.
"Hey, your husband was in the paper!"
"What didn't he tell me about?" my wife says with a sigh.
"No, no. It wasn't anything bad. He was thanked."
"I'm sorry...thanked?"
"Yeah, he was thanked for being a St. Paul teacher."
"Huh....His school can't remember him, but the district sure does."*
*Yes, I did in fact crib my response from my wife's. However, I am admitting it, therefore it is not plagirism, and I cannot be sued. Besides, my wife would only get money from me, which is also hers, therefore it becomes a lose/lose situation.
Wow, there are no parents here tonight. None. At the last conference, there were parents galore, but they were probably worrying about colleges. Now, with the seniors leaving very soon, they must not care anymore.
My colleagues are freaking out about my writing. One of the other teachers who really doesn't like me keeps coming over to see what it is that I am writing.
"Better not be about me, Leab."
I feel bad for him, he was the subject of a student prank that went really awry. They attempted to create a MySpace account and put all sorts of nasty things on it about him. A few of us (including myself) came across it and told him. The response was that the student who did it was shut down. The site is now gone, but it brings up a problem:
I have a blog that is my own and definitely me, but what happens if my students turn on me and decide to try something like that with me? Will I be able to defend myself? Could I be fired?
Of course, I don't believe my students would do this. Do they read my blog? Sure, every once in a great while, but not religiously (I don't think anyone reads this religiously anymore...that's not a bad thing and I'm not complaining, just noting).
Hang on a second.
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5:05
Just had to explain to a parent that the student will probably fail the class because he/she (won't say which) has turned NOTHING in this quarter. There are only five weeks left (though it's really four as the last week is used to finals and such), but this kid is convinced he can make it on a D. Sigh. When I was younger a D was horrible. It was worse than an F. F meant you totally didn't get it. D meant you could understand, but you just really couldn't or wouldn't do the work. It's sad really. I got a D in Archaeology my Sophomore year of college and I felt guilty. Really guilty. Maybe it's just me, but I KNEW I could do better. I felt I was a failure.
During my Master's, I got a B in one class, and I flipped out. Here were my colleagues all graduating with perfect 4.0 GPA's, and I had a 3.93. It shouldn't but it REALLY angered me. I felt it would look bad when I went to look for jobs.
Uno memento
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5:50
Wow, I got hit by parents of kids not in any of my classes.
"Oh, YOU'RE Mr. Leab....My kid LOVES you."
Oy vey.
I did have a few kids in my classes come by. The best so far? One parent who started with, "I'm not happy about her grade. What are YOU going to do about it?"
Sigh.
Oops, hang on a minute
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6:30
I have a deaf/hard of hearing student in my class. His parents are freaking out about him being in a regular class. I spent the last 20 minutes trying to explain to them that he's fine. The mom isn't sure. She thinks 1. I'm nuts, and 2. That her son will fail. I tried very hard to assuage her fears. It's difficult. She is so concerned that her son is going to fail because he is deaf and the other students aren't. That being said, she actually praised me at the end of our meeting for not expecting the kids to read all of the text on their own.
Did I explain to her that I don't have enough textbooks and that's why I don't send the book home? No, but I probably should have.
Back to the other parent for a minute.
"What are YOU going to do about it?" she asked.
"What would you like me to do?" I replied.
Parents seem to hate this. Her face got that "I'm going to kill you, bastard" look on it.
"Well, why is she failing? What haven't you done?"
"Well, Ms. X, she hasn't turned in any work this quarter. There are only five weeks left. It would help if she turned SOMETHING in."
"Well have you been reminding her? Have you kept on her?"
"Yes. She also has an assignment log that she is supposed to keep filled out. Did she tell you that?"
A small shake of the head.
I continue.
"Did she tell you she has folder that all of her work?"
"Uhhh...no."
"Ok, that's fine. It means that she hasn't been sharing her work with you. Start asking her."
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It's the end of the night. I had a parent show up at 7:00. Annoying, but dealt with easily.
I'm going home and eating dinner.
Hopefully this gives you a nice idea of what we truly feel and do at conferences.
Namate.

Bauer Power

Aziz Ansari is actually quite a funny guy. Check him out over at his website.
Now, I don't really watch much TV anymore. No, it's true. My students can hardly believe it. "How can you not watch TV, Mr. Leab? That's impossible!"
Well, I do actually watch a few shows, but the only one I never miss is 24. Now this season of the show is...well...not so good in my opinion. It's got tension, but it's also predictable and sometimes way the hell out there (I'm a federal agent who hijacks a plane...sigh). That being said, 24 has taught us many things about life. Thus I present Aziz Ansari's comedic writing about a great show.
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7 Ways to Use the Lessons of '24' at Work.
Comedian Aziz Ansari on how to get ahead following the rules of CTU.
By Deborah Netburn, Times Staff Writer
April 11 2006

1. If your boss catches you shooting heroin in your office, just say its part of your cover. If he says, "What cover?" Yell "Federal Agent!" and tackle the crap out of him.

2. If you are sleeping with a beautiful European woman, be careful - she is probably a terrorist/assassin that is using you to get information to kill her next target. Continue sleeping with her, you may be able to uncover valuable information that could stop the assassination from happening!

3. Sometimes you have to kidnap your co-workers kids to get stuff done
Lazy Co-worker: "Look Aziz, I can't get the report done by Tuesday."
Me: "Oh really? Well my men* are holding your children."
Lazy Co-Worker: "OKAY! I'll have it on your desk first thing!!"
*This reminds me, you should probably hire "some men," they are quite a useful asset. You can find great ones on Craigslist for an affordable rate.

4. If you get arrested, no matter how large or small the crime, just pretend like you have some valuable information and agree to give it up only under the condition you are given full immunity signed by the President. Don't worry they'll get him on the phone.

5. Don't be afraid to go rogue - if you think your bosses orders don't make any sense, ignore them and obey your own. In the end, your actions will be proven correct and you'll be praised for having the balls to break protocol. And not only that, at some point you'll get to steal a co-workers car!

6. If your bosses orders REALLY seem ridiculous, then chances are he's working for the enemy and your workplace has been compromised. This is when you want to inform everyone in the office that you are carrying a loaded gun. You may also want to bring "your men" into the situation at this point.

7. Is there a secure room in your office that you want to access, but can't? Find someone who does have access and cut off their thumb. (Note: Only use this tactic when the room in question is locked by a thumb scan. Actually do it anyway, its good to practice.)

Aziz Ansari is a comedian based in New York City. He recently won the Jury Award for Best Standup at HBO's US Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen.

Ramblings for the Evening (04/26/06)

I hate testing time. It ALWAYS seems to be testing time (Thanks NCLB!). Sigh.
Justin, stop biting your hands. Yeah, you heard me.
All right, let's just get to it.
So, without further ado: JESUS NEVER PUNTS!
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Airline Intrigue:
Anybody read USA Today? I do. I like the pretty color pictures! Ok, so I get it to balance the Pioneer Press and Star Tribune (it falls almost right in the middle). I've said it before: I read about six newspapers a day, as well as multiple blogs. I like to read. My students don't get that.
So, two days last week being dedicated to MCA testing (Hate...it...so...much), I had the chance to really dig over every single word of the paper more than once (usually I read only a few articles more than once). A few days ago, the business section of the paper discussed the amenities of the airlines. Almost NONE of the airlines give food or headphones for free. It's insane. Most airlines charge $5 for a sandwich. Are you kidding me? A sandwich? I can actually get a better sandwich for less at Panera Bread. Headphones? Hey, they're $3 a pop. Sigh. I actually bring my own, but, funny story, the last time I tried to use them on a plane, the attendant tried to take them away. I'm not kidding. She pulled them down from my head and said, "Sir, you cannot use those on this flight. However, if you wish to listen to the movie or music, I can give you a headset...for three dollars."
I think the only thing louder than the jaws of the passengers around me hitting the floor was my, "Yeah...right, lady!" That's proposterous. What's next? "Sir, did you bring that food on the plane? Yeah, I'm going to have to take that and make you watch as I put it outside at 35,000 feet. Have a nice day!"
Even better is the fact that Airbus (at least I believe it's Airbus) is adding standing room only seats. Padded backboards with belt buckles. Wow, do you get a drink with that?
Look, I hate flying. It's not the turbulence or the fear of crashing (Lord knows after all the near-misses and not so near-misses, I'm not scared of that anymore...just can't sleep on a plane). No, my issue is with the other people and the fact that it's like taking a bus in the sky. I prefer trains. Seriously. The best part of being in Europe a while back was taking the train to get around. It was fantastic. I truly wish we had a system like that here. I don't mean the current Amtrak system. I mean the bullet train that goes 300 miles per hour. I would go from here to New York by train. I would.
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Stephen Colbert:
The man is hysterical. That's how I feel, whether you agree or not. I don't know how you feel about him, dear reader, but he consistently makes me laugh. Ever since the report he did on whether or not Prince Charles was gay (see the pic on the left), he has never stopped being funny. Over the weekend he was hosting the White House Correspondents' Dinner. I couldn't sleep so I flipped around and found him on C-Span (don't knock it...it's a good channel). It was the end of the dinner, and Colbert was giving the keynote speech. It was hysterical, but the crowd...never laughed. At least the audio wasn't good enough to hear a single laugh. As he roastd the media, the administration, and such, there wasn't a peep. The only laugh came when he bit his thumb (if any of my students are reading this, you should get what that means) at Scalia...and the judge returned the gesture.
Colbert ever had a movie where he tried to escape from Helen Thomas and her incisive questions. It was brilliant. The crowd? Hated it. They were silent. It was as if Colbert stood up there and extolled the virtues of Hitler. Sigh.
Humor is a dying art. No one appreciates a sutble ribbing. If you don't watch The Colbert Report, you need to start doing it. It's smart humor. Very smart.
That being said, Mr. Colbert, should you ever read this. Make sure you point out that USA Today mentioned all the stars who were at the dinner...except you. They never mentioned you sir. Apparently they don't like your truthiness.
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Prom Time:
Hey, hey: Prom is on Friday night. Am I going? No. Was I invited? Sadly, for the second year in a row, yes.
Last year it was a guy and a girl. This year? A lovely senior asked me. I guess it would have been a lark to show up...but I love my job.
That leads to the next question: Would I chaperone? That's a tou....NO!
Granted, if I did chaperone, I would show up in my tux (I have a Humphrey Bogart tux with the white coat and black pants), but it ain't happening folks.
The reason I bring up Prom is because I am amazingly shocked at how much people will spend on this ONE NIGHT. If it were a wedding, it's one thing. That's an event that's, sadly, designed to be lavish. But Prom is just a dance. One girls told me that the whole night will cost her almost $1,000. WHAT!!!!? That's insane. INSANE!
I asked her to explain the breakdown. The money went to:
The limo
The dress
The hair
The nails
The tickets (which are now $75 this week...mine were never that expensive.)
The shoes
The boutonnière (The guy's lapel flower for the uninitiated.)
That comes out to 1K. Oy vey.
What's worse? That doesn't take into account when they go into more than one. One of my seniors is going to three proms. THREE! Holy Moses, dear readers. That's frightening. Crazy, even. She'll spend almost two grand to head to these proms.
I also look at these places that now allow you to reserve a dress and let others know it's yours. Wow. Don't buy that dress, Melanie! Jamie already got it.
Sigh.
Maybe it's because I'm a guy. You just need a tux, a corsage, and the ability smile over...and over...and over. Oh, and to pay for dinner.
Look, it's a dance. That's it. People make it into way too big of an event. My ten year high school is coming up. I talked to three people (basically to tell them I'm not coming and will probably never return to the school...ever) and all three didn't mention Prom. If Prom is the end all, be all of your high school career...there are issues, folks. I'm just saying....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Doe! A Deer...in my Yard:
My neighbor came over tonight to thank my wife and I for babysitting (She has a toddler who thinks I'm funny...stupid kid...just kidding...sort of). As we stood there talking about how great the kid is and the such, we heard a noise, like someone traipsing through my lilac bushes. We walk around to the back and there, standing in my roses...is a large doe. Both of us froze.
There is a moment when you see an animal, no matter how harmless it is, where your brain goes:
"Holy crap. Free food."
Just kidding. It goes:
"Holy crap. What do I do now? Hmm. Options...now!"
Then you start playing out the scenarios.
My neighbor and I stood there staring at the deer, and she stared back. Here's the issue, however. My neighbor's car was against the other side of my yard, which meant the only way out...was through us. The deer stood fast and quiet for a few minutes (and chewed on one of my plants), then, having had its fill, it wanted to leave.
The doe...moved toward us. My neighbor bolted. I just stood there as the doe bounced by me. Deer are fascinating creatures in the way they move. This doe was obviously afraid of me (most people and creatures are), and she bounced by me. It was beautiful.
Maybe I'm just sappy.
And finally:
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Confusing Bumper Sticker:
Ok, dear readers, I want your opinions on something here.
As I drove home tonight, I read a bumper sticker that read "Republican for Voldemort".
What does that mean?
Is it a Liberal ripping on Republicans saying they would vote for evil?
Is it a Republican saying that he/she likes Harry Potter?
You tell me, dear reader.
Until tomorrow...or later,
Namaste.

I'm a Bad Monkey

I know.
I haven't been posting lately.
All I can say is sorry.
I'm just trying to find the time right now, which is REALLY hard.
With the seniors charging toward the end, Spring in the air, and students trying to shut down on me, I'm having a hard time getting online to write.
I promise it will increase, but it will take time.
I'll have a lot to talk about, but, again, it takes time.
At least the show is over.
Namaste.

Conversations with my Wife (4/18/06)

The wonderful thing about talking to someone you love and trust is how it illustrates life's foibles and little feelings.
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"Thanks alot."
"What did I do?"
"You woke my up last night."
"I did?"
"Yeah! You got up and went to the bathroom (and I warned you NOT to drink two bottles of water before bed). That's when I woke up."
"Do you know why I got up?"
"You had to pee...duh."
"Keep your voice down. You'll wake my parents."
"Sorry. Wouldn't want THAT to happen. I can hear your dad snoring. Nothing is going to wake him up."
"Sigh. I got up because you burped in my face."
"What?"
"We were facing each other and at, like, two a.m. you burped. A nasty burp that smelled like...maple sausage. How could I sleep?"
"What? Come on. That's not true."
"It is too! You burped in your sleep."
"I've never heard of that happening before....Quick, call a doctor, this is amazing."
"Seriously, it was gross."
"Sorry, dear, but come on...it's kinda funny."
"I'm so going to kill you in your sleep one day."
"I love you too."
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"Did you see the article?"
"I did."
"How do you feel about it? Isn't it sickening?"
"A little, but I've seen worse."
"Such as?"
"Enron, for starters. Or how about Northwest?"
"That's different...."
"How? Those companies either went under or are near it, yet their executives were given cash hand over fist. Your company is still doing well."
"It's different. We did not have a good year. These guys didn't earn over 100 percent raises."
"That's your opinion."
"It's fact. We did not have a great year."
"Ok, ok...I give."
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"It's just not fair."
"What?"
"No one flirts with me anymore."
"Bullshit."
"No. The last time was a few years ago. I can remember it."
"No, dear. It's just that you've become a married person. You don't see it anymore."
"People don't flirt with me anymore. But you, well, women are grabbing you at conferences."
"Is that what this is about? Come on. Women don't find me attractive, they just see me as a viable option. It's a bunch of teachers. Most of us aren't...uh...hot as it were. That Van Halen video? There are no teachers that really look like that. Our job kind of destroys us."
"You move your buddy, you get flirted with. You go to the conference, you get flirted with. You stop by work and my colleague calls you, 'yummy.' It's not fair."
"Honey...honey. Do you really want people to flirt with you? Do you want to deal with trying to explain to someone, 'Sorry, been married for five years now. It's awfully sweet, but I'm taken. Besides......I hate it when guys flirt with you."
"That's because you're insecure."
"I'm short, fat, and not very good-looking. I got you on my charm. Charm, much like looks, can fade. I worry that you'll one day wise up and walk off."
"I won't go. You have to stop that."
"You say that now, but feelings change. People change. Isn't it enough that I think you're beautiful? That I love you with all my heart?"
"Of course, but you have to love me."
"I do? I kinda got the idea it was a choice."
"Nuh-uh. Till death do us part."
"That wasn't part of our vows...."
"Don't get smart with me."
"Sorry, professor."

Ramblings for the Evening (04/16/06)

What a lousy week....
It's been long, full of surprises, and, well...odd.
Nothing like holiday time to bring out the crazy in people. Go Jesus!
Sigh....
So, without further ado: THAT WOULD BE...CA-RAAZZYY!
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Meeting Normie:
Last week was the final home game for the Minnesota Wild. It was a great game. The home team won 2-0 over the Chicago Blackhawks and included a goal from a player who then turned around and beat up a Blackhawk player. As Veilleux was carted off the ice (he was tossed), he gave the entire crowd a "raise the roof" move which, of course, made everyone cheer louder. It was awesome.
The highlight of that evening (for me), however, was not the game itself, nor the atmosphere of the place, but literally running into the junior senator from the state of Minnesota. I'm talking about Norm Coleman. As you'll recall, I knocked down the former mayor of Saint Paul at the first game. This game, well, it was Norm Coleman. A friend of my wife was in a suite (lucky duck) and invited us down to join him (used two of his cohorts' tickets). Well, neither one of us had been on the suite level, so we decided to go.
After ten minutes of checking out the suite (very nice, but...it didn't feel right), I was...well...bored. It was all engineers, and they started talking about work. If I really wanted to hear about stents and such, I would go out to lunch with them. I walked out and started back to the elevators to go up. I was yelling back at my wife who kept asking, "Wait...where are you going?" I kept yelling back, "I'll see you up there when you're ready to come back."
Wham.
In my idiocy, I walked into some older gentleman in a suit.
"Holy crap! I'm so sorry. Are you ok?" I asked this guy.
In a polite southern accent, he responded, "It's all right, though most people walk so they can see where they're going, not where they've been."
"Sorry," I responded. "When I lived in New York, I was able to feel people coming. Since coming here, that's gone."
"New York," I hear this eastern accent say. "Where in New York?"
I spin on the speaker to start to answer...and it's Normie.
"Manhattan." I respond.
Over the course of the next two or three minutes, I talked to Norm Coleman about living in Minnesota vs. New York. Then he was rushed off.
When my wife came back to her seat, I told her the whole story. I talked about running the southern guy over (still have no idea who he is), and she sat there just saying, "Yup, sure, whatever...."
Finally, I said, "Ok, he was wearing a yellow shirt. We'll check the paper tomorrow and look for his picture. He'll be in it."
As if trying to help me, the scoreboard cut to the inside of a suite. There's some guy in a suit. "What the hell is this?" Some guy in the crowd asked. (This guy would go on to win a game-worn jersey...schmuck.)
As the camera moves forward, we see Norm Coleman.
"HA!" I say to my wife. "You didn't believe me."
The crowd, upon seeing Coleman, a person who was instrumental in bringing the Wild to St. Paul, booed him. It wasn't a smattering with cheers. No, it was a full on gaggle of boo-birds.
I found it fascinating.
Regardless of how you feel about Coleman (you either voted for him, against him, or you didn't vote), it was interesting to watch his face as he heard the crowd booing. He looked up at the screen, obviously seeing that the camera was on him, and half-smiled. Then he waved at the camera and got up to walk over to someone.
Do you think he's worried at all about what's the come in November?
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Fish Bait:
Tom, better known as Admin Worm, has ended his blog. I'm quite sad at this. His rants were particularly inspiring and often interesting. I just hope that he'll stop buy and comment on here. His thoughts are always welcome.
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In-Laws:
My in-laws are in town for Easter (Goooooo, JESUS!). It's been...interesting. My father-in-law has tooth issues and is pain. My mother-in-law is passing judgement left and right about my wife, myself, and my wife's other family members.
Yesterday, my wife ditched me and took her mother to the spa, leaving FIL (Father-in-Law) and I to fend for ourselves. What did he want to do? Go to Lakeville and check out the motorcycle shops. It was fine (though...well...how do I put this? There was a great deal of Arctic Cat stuff, if you catch my drift...think ABC area.), but my FIL spent the entire time essentially opening up to me about life.
Then, last night, we headed over to friend of FIL. These two got extremely drunk and shared stories about hunting in Africa. Then, for an encore, they sat there and fired shots at me for my "liberal tendencies" and for "ruining America."
"But Leab," you're asking, "How are you ruining America?"
Glad you asked. Teachers aren't doing enough to earn our money.
Sigh. SIGH!
Moving on. I think you get the point.
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Wasted Development:
On Friday, while students were sleeping or relaxing, I was at a meeting with fellow teachers. Let's move beyond the fact that HALF of the faculty was missing and get to the part where the speaker was a former middle school teacher who talked to us in a high-pitched baby voice. "Have you all finished your cards? Hmmm. Gooooood. I'm so proud of you...." Sigh.
The meeting degenerated from talking about school issues to becoming an argument between two teachers. They went after each other. Now, I had lost my voice on Wednesday, and it was barely coming back on Friday. Annoyed, I raised my hand to be recognized and said, "Look....Some of us have a wife, some in-laws, and a bunch of stuff to do at home. Can we cut the petty arguments and get back to real work, please?"
It was quiet. The facillitator started to talk again. I wanted out for lunch, dammit. How dare she try to keep us past noon when no breakfast was served. I decided to say something. I raised my hand again.
She called on me, so I said, in a dark rumbly voice (a la Charlton Heston), "Let my people GO!"
There was a moment of laughter. She had no idea what to do, so she said, "Ah, just go to lunch."
Like I said...waste of time. Though I learned alot more about which teachers hate each other. Good stuff.
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Another Show:
Another show opens this week. I'm nervous. I did very little work as I was told by the director to back off and only help when asked. I did just that. I'm just nervous that some things my not come together in time, but I seriously don't have the time this upcoming week (it opens on Thursday) to help. I feel these kids are competent, but I'm still worried.
And finally:
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Much Like Wine....:
Happy birthday, Sister #1. Much like wine, you're getting better with age. Yes, I know you're bracing for 40 (even though it's years away), but I hope today went well.
I'm very proud to have you as a sister.

Odd Night

It's late (for me to not even try to be asleep).
I've had a really odd night. Ran into people I would never even think of seeing normally (Yeah, I met Norm Coleman tonight at the Wild game. That was odd...more on that tomorrow).
Basically, I'm in strong meditation as I prepare for my in-laws visit for the holiday (Easter...not Passover, you silly geese).
Tomorrow, I will tell you about the game, my blogaversary (I threw a party...and nobody came...oh well), and more.
40 lines of R & J down, hundreds more to go.
Namaste.

Mail Mondays (04/10/06)

I totally and utterly forgot my own anniversary. No, no, not my marriage anniversary, but the anniversary of my beginning this blog. That's right, it's been one year. I guess if I forgot already, then I can just talk about it later.
So, I actually have some mail as well as some other stuff to talk about. I know, I can't believe it either. What can I say?
Let's get to the mail.
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Leab,
When you were talking about students talking smack about you and then needing your help....Were you talking about me?
Concerned Student #10

I got a couple emails about this, strangely enough.
Yes. I was. Today was just another example. If you truly have everything and want to talk about me, cool. Again, you don't get to totally and utterly go after me (and yes, seniors, I get that this is your last quarter. You have nine weeks, or maybe it's eight, left, then you get to leave), you better HOPE that it won't bite you in the ass. This is how it works:
When the bridge burns, I sure as hell am not going to be rebuilding it. Before you set that fire, you better think hard.
It's kind of sad, really. This year's Seniors were the first class I ever worked with as a teacher. I honestly love a lot of them (I'm using "love" here, folks), but with little time left before they go off to college, many of them are acting like I have nothing left to offer them. Wow, a man at least a decade older than most of them knows absolutely nothing? Good to know. Sorry, Dad, you got nothing left to tell me. Moving on....
Look, are all of them treating me badly? No, there are a few who actually have sought me out and asked questions about what to expect next year.
I said it before: I don't care if you rag on me. Go ahead, I am the authority figure. I don't care if you want to make fun of me to my face. I even don't care if you sit there and think the things I tell you about my life are crap. That's your opinion. However, you don't get to join the group, attempt to belittle my life, then come to me later and ask me how those stories shape a person's life. It doesn't work that way.
If you really think you don't need me anymore, cool. That's your opinion. Just don't come crying to me about life and say you need me again.
When the bridge is burned, I'll be on the other side. You burn it, you own it.
Eight weeks, kids. Make sure you know exactly where you stand before casting me (or any teacher, friend, or person period) aside. Think long and hard.
That's the best (and in some cases last) advice I can give.
If you need a second opinion, ask Jolene. She knows.
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That's really it for the good mail this week. The rest was...well...feh. I won't name names in any of my stories, so stop asking (students, directed at you).
I have to thank Dennis for this. The Easter Bunny video is one of the funniest I have ever seen. Go, see it, and enjoy.
Tomorrow, ramblings, and I guess a blogaversary.
Namaste.

Ramblings for the Morning (03/8/06)

Ah the quiet of Saturday morning. My wife is asleep, my cats are off eating, and I can sit here and write for a little bit.
Ok, here we go.
So, without further ado: FOUR LEGS GOOD, TWO LEGS BAD!
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Killer Food:
My sister sent me this story. The gist is that a national symbol of Sweden, disgusting as it may be, has been BANNED from plane flights. The reasoning? Well, it's two-fold:
1. It's in a can, which, under pressure, could explode (Look out, Tuna, you're NEXT!!!!)
2. The other, and to me more viable reason, is the smell. Apparently it is one of the worst smells ever in the recorded history of humanity. Take rotten fish. Good, your nose already hurts, right? Now, put it in the sun for say... a month. Now, can it and then serve it. Yum-O (as Rachael Ray would say)!
Still, the part I'm going to be curious about is the Swedish retort. They say banning the fish is, "culturally illiterate." We, in America, have allowed many things because of the cultural heritage or meaning. Will Sweden bend to pressure? Is anyone else shocked that there is a "Swedish Surstromming Academy" which promotes the fish? (Though I will admit they have a point about stinky cheese and Champagne....)
What does this academy look like? Is it a small shack on a lake where a bunch of Swedes gather, drink themselves silly, then eat the fish?
Not to beat a dead horse, but I also have this vision from The Deer Hunter of people around a table spinning a plate and getting the fish in front of them. As they steel themselves up to eat it, a man slaps them and yells, "MAO, DIDDY MAO!!!"
You have to love those crazy Swedes.
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They Shoot Bloggers, Don't They?:
What's happening to all the bloggers I read? Meridita? Left. Worm? Considering quitting. Sopheava? On hiatus. (I remember when they said Arrested Development was on hiatus...that's gone.) I don't want to even think about Slanderous (which I will NEVER remove...unless a court order comes in and says, "Remove it.") There are some still writing, but the ones I read everyday are starting to remove themselves back to real life. Sigh.
Luckily there's always the Gonerick Hotel caption contest. Go, have fun. I'm done venting about this now....
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Inside Man Review:
I went and saw Inside Man the other day. It wasn't bad. The acting is pretty good, so is seeing New York (a staple in Spike Lee films), but the story...well. Look, I love mysteries. This film has a good mystery, but when you hear the semi-twist in the first few minutes, you know right away who the "Inside Man" is. If I have a gripe about this film, it is the writing. Sometimes you can just hear the writers thinking as the film goes.
"Man...I'm tired. I've been writing this forever. Ok, I got nothing for an end, so.........Uh......Let's just have this happen, they'll meet, he'll do this...sure, that works. Ok, T.h.e. E.n.d. Great. Where's my money?"
Seriously, the script dies at the end of the movie. There's a false ending, and it just keeps going and going. Still, I liked the film, and I recommend it.
That being said, a guy I went to college with is in the movie, which was really strange to see. He was an actor and wanted to be professional, but the last I heard he had quit and started teaching English in St. Louis. His only other credit had been as an extra on That 70's Show. Now he's playing Redheaded Detective. Good job, Ken, you've got lines now. Keep up the good work, and you might equal Johnny and his stint on Scrubs.
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Moving...on a Friday Afternoon:
I helped a colleague of mine move yesterday. He called me because he NEEDED my truck. I never put a single thing in my car...it all fit in his rented moving truck. There were a few of us doing the work: Two other teachers and two of my colleagues kids.
It was...interesting.
We got everything done in three hours, which was great, but I was close to killing one of my colleagues. Here's a tip, boys and girls: You NEVER talk smack about a guy's wife when you have 1. never met her, and 2. are yourself single and thought to be gay by the world around you.
This guy crossed a line, and I called him on it. While the rest of us actually moved the furniture up and into the building, he stood in the truck and "organized" everything. Sure.
He got mad when we were in the elevator, and the gal who rode with us ignored him and talked to me.
He got upset when there was no beer.
But my absolute favorite was when he thought it would be funny to CRUSH me against a wall using a couch.
"Oh, look out Leab...wall." Then he shoves me and the couch as hard as he can into the wall. That move, which he did twice, snapped my sunglasses in half. IN HALF!! I loved those glasses, but they're toast now.
There's an old saying, "Too many chiefs, not enough indians." In our case it was, "Too much schmuck, not enough moving."
My colleague owes me big time now. I don't know if he'll ever pay, but he owes me.
And finally:
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End of the Line:
Spring Break sadly comes to an end on Monday. We have to return to school. I was enjoying the time off, and my wife told me that yesterday morning (before she left for work) that I was finally looking relaxed. It only took a week.
Have I missed the students? Some of them.
Am I looking forward to the next nine weeks? Some of them.
We start Romeo And Juliet on Monday. I will be curious to see how it goes. I need to get through that, The Odyssey, and some poetry in the next nine weeks. Teaching, don't fail me now!
Have a great weekend!
Namaste.
Oh, and here's a fun picture of a colleague of mine playing one of his first video games....Good stuff.

Quick Note (4/7/06)

I forgot to mention.
Happy Birthday to my beautiful neice, Maddie.
You're two now, and you have a license to be terrible. Have at it.
May your next year be brilliant and healthy.
Love,
Your uncle.
So, for your birthday, here's a dancing monkey from your Uncle Monkey.

Niagara's Training Wheels

Day Three
Still couldn't sleep. Part of it was the Sexympics going on next door, but part of it was due to what had happened the previous day.
I don't normally drink coffee (it was just never my thing), but I needed coffee this particular morning. At breakfast, aside from the food, I found myself being made fun of by my colleagues. Why? Well, first there were the two ladies who sat at our table. I made pleasantries (I'm not a nice person normally, but I was told to network, which I was doing). The two girls smiled and started talking to me. When they left to get seconds, the crew I was with was merciless.
"They LIKE you...oooohhh."
"Look at you getting girls to come after you...."
Etc, etc, etc. They were merciless.
It got worse.
The gals from Florida saw me and came to my table.
"Heeeeey, Leab! How are you?"
"I'm good, ladies, how are you? No hangovers I hope?"
My colleagues stared at me in amazement. I could tell that one of them, probably the best looking of the bunch (in my opinion), was thinking "How the hell is it that this short, fat, Jewish-looking New Yorker is getting all the girls? I'm hot stuff dammit!"
I talked to the Florida Posse for a few more minutes, and, even though I introduced them to the other guys, they never stopped talking to me.
"Oh, and happy birthday, Jenny."
"You remembered?! That's so sweet! Well, we're going drinking again if you want to go with us...."
I excused myself at that point.
The training that day was a little better. It was...more practical (and kind of fun actually). The best part? One of the trainers came up with a system titled DIDLS (it's a way of looking over passages by looking at Imagery, Language, etc). However, she didn't realize that DIDLS (pronounced diddles) had another meaning. Everytime she talked about "DIDLing a passage," we all laughed. She turned bright red when we explained it to her, so she changed the name to LIDDS. Awesome.
It was a gorgeous day. During the break I went for a walk. The sun had finally, FINALLY come out. I went by the Falls for a final look and saw not one by TWO rainbows shining in the sun. It was awe-inspiring in some ways. It made me think a great deal about the beauty of nature.
Lunch that day was interesting. My school sent four guys. Two white (including me) and two black. One of the black guys is very brown...as in Middle-Eastern brown. He joins the other white guy and myself as we head to lunch. Now the white guy and I do not have our badges on, neither does our colleague. We start to walk into the lunch area, and we are not stopped by anyone. Our friend, however, is not so lucky. Remember, he's walking WITH us. The waiter (or maitre'de or whatever he is) grabs my colleague and pulls him aside.
"You badge, sir. Where is it?"
He digs it out and shows it.
"Do you need to see mine?" I ask.
"No," he says.
Anyone who doesn't believe in racism has obviously never seen a situation like this. It was appalling. My colleague took it in stride ("I'm used to it," he told me, "It happened at the border too, remember?"), but it was still angering to see. Why didn't the guy need to see MY badge?
We took off and went to eat outside the conference (the food served at lunch wasn't good). During lunch, one of my colleagues and I discussed the nature of God and the universe. He's devout, me...not so much. Our conversation was so outrageous and passionate (yet never angry or denouncing in anyway) that people gathered around us to watch and listen. That's how you know it's a good conversation.
The rest of the training was uneventful. Several people started leaving on Sunday after lunch. The gal who sat next to me ended up giving me her room number and asked me to call (I didn't). At the end of the class, I went over to the shops to buy my sister a present (her birthday is on the 16th). I walk in, and what happens? I feel that familiar pinch on my ass. I jumped so high, I knocked over a rack of shirts. It was Jenny.
"Well, well, well. How are you?"
"Good to feel you again. How's your birthday?"
"It's great. See my crown?"
She was wearing a large crown that said "Birthday Girl" in big letters.
"Very nice."
"Do you have a present for me?" She asked.
Very forward. Have I been out of the dating game for so long that I don't realize how forward most women are? Seriously. I get women. I get dating. There are things I can tell you about women and men that are always right (for example, a woman can lick her lips in a non-provocative way and men will always stare). I get these things, but I don't remember ever really being as forward as this gal.
With no alternative, I gave her the cookie I had bought at the Hershey's Store.
"Here you go. Eat it in good health, and happy birthday."
In retrospect, that was a mistake. A big mistake. She would go and tell her friends about it, and I would end up in trouble later.
That night my colleagues and I would head to a fabulous Chinese restaurant (and we would be the only diners there). The food was great, as was the conversation. I would learn that one of my colleagues used to be a fisherman, that another, who is a narcoleptic, married a woman with ADD ("It balances out," he would tell me), and that my third colleague hadn't touch a drop of alcohol in 25 years. It was a fascinating night.
After dropping off my other three colleagues, I decided to go for a walk.
As I made my way up Clifton Hill, I felt a hand on my back. Now, I don't know about you, but I am not big on people touching me. If I allow people to touch me, it's usually a sign of trust. There are friends of my wife who try to hug me, and I will always back away. It's just my thing. So when this hand touched my back, I immediately reacted by grabbing it and starting to twist. It was Jenny again. I felt bad.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry. Are you ok?"
"What the hell was that?" she asked.
"I really don't like to be touched."
"That's because it hasn't been done right," she said coyly. This girl was not going to give up. I commend her for her passion, but sheesh. There is a limit, right folks?
"No, it has. I've been married for five years now," I said with emphasis on the time.
"Would you like to join us over at the Casino?"
"No thanks, I'm just taking a walk....Clearing my mind and such."
I started to walk off again, but she followed me. SHE FOLLOWED ME. Sigh.
Short of hitting her and running, I didn't think there was anything I could do, so I allowed her to walk with me. I talked to her for about 40 minutes as I doubled back to my hotel.
I learned she had been married to her high school sweetheart at 19, but he had broken her heart and run off. She also lost a child, which can be traumatic. All this, and she was only twenty-five. I allowed her to spill her guts to me as we walked. I don't know if what she said was true or not, and to me, it doesn't matter. If she was using it solely to try and get me to bed her, it didn't work. If she needed to empty her soul and such on her birthday and talking to a stranger did the trick, then I gave her a good birthday present, I guess.
On a final note for day three, Jenny was staying at the same hotel I was (I was shocked to learn). She wanted to know if I wanted to go to her room for a drink. I politely declined.
"Don't you like me?" she asked. "Am I unattractive or something?"
This is one of those scary situations where you want to comfort, but also be frank, so I tried to split the difference.
"Jenny, you're a great gal, but I'm happily married. Five years. I love my wife, and, before you say anything, I can't cheat. I can't do it. I was cheated on, and it broke my heart. I can't and won't cheat on my wife. EVER! Do you understand? If you really need to be with someone, I'll give you the number of a good-looking, single guy I met here. He's from Canada, and very sweet. Better looking than me to boot. Do you want the digits?"
She declined. I would see her one more time.
With the excitement over, I headed to my room to try and sleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day Four
The end. I skipped out early and went for a walk to the far side of the city. They trainers even admitted they had nothing for us.
At breakfast, which was continental (read: no REAL food), I saw the Florida girls for the last time. I was sitting talking to a colleague, when, from across the room, this collective shout of "Leab" was heard. We looked over, and sure enough it was the Florida crew. They all waved, then they left. It was embarrassing. I blushed...and got made fun of...good stuff.
I went to the Fallsview Casino Resort to look around and see what I could see. It was a brand new facility. Imagine taking the Mall of America and placing a large casino where (the former) Camp Snoopy is. Then drop a hotel on top of the whole building. Now you have the resort. Oh wait, I forgot: Add random stages throughout the casino where cover bands play. ONLY cover bands.
I walked around the complex and through the casino for an hour. I stopped at the bar to get water (the casino was NOT a smoke-free facility). I'm sitting at the bar, sipping my water, looking at the Chinese guy on one side of me, and an Indian woman on the other, and my first thought is, "Wow, how Benetton." Then a guy with a headset comes over to me.
"Excuse me, sir."
I'm thinking, "Damn. They know I have a camera in my pocket, and I'm in trouble. There's going to remove me."
"Sir," he says again, "Can you please sign this?"
He puts a clipboard in front of me.
"What is this?" I ask.
"Release form. You just walked into a commercial and that was our best take. You're in the background. Sign this form so we can use you please."
"Excuse me? What?"
He explains it again.
I sign the form, and he hands me a $25 chip, saying, "Here's your payment."
Looking around I told the guy next to me they need to fuzz us out in the background. There were these four BEAUTIFUL people as the main characters (two guys, two girls), then in the background is me, Yao Ming, and a not-so-good-looking gal. It was an interesting dichotomy, but you don't see me and think, "Wow! Hip people go THERE! Honey, LET'S GO!!!!"
So, if you're on the east coast, looking for the short, fat guy with brown hair and a goattee in the background of a Fallsview Resort commerical. I'm at the bar.
The rest of the day sucked. The bus ride to the airport was infuriating. I was trapped in front of the two most bitchy people in the world, who talked crap about all their colleagues and complained about one of them talking about them. (Ring, ring....Hello? Hypocrisy? Haven't heard from you in AGES!) I finally asked them to be quiet, and they turned on me. I wasn't having it, so I answered back. We ended up having to move seats to be separated. Good stuff.
The flights back were quiet. Once again I sat alone away from the other guys. I wrote a test on the way back, they slept.
In the end, I got home later than I wanted and headed to work early the next morning (big mistake).
If this trip taught me anything, it's that when people get a change of scenery, they can get a change of personality that may not be for the better.
I enjoyed the trip, but I liked being home again with my lovely and understanding wife.
As for IB. I say no more.
"I'm a bad, bad man."

No Power, No Post

Hey kids.
My wife and I were out tonight as we had no power. My lovely neighborhood seems to lose power alot. It's annoying and quite frustrating.
So, that means no post tonight (I promise there will be a post tomorrow about the last two days of the conference).
Hope you'll stop in and read. If you don't, hey, I understand.
Namaste.

Dating and Mating in Niagara

Day Two.
I didn't sleep at all the prior evening.
The hotel gave me what I call "Hellaciously Perfect Placement." On one side was the ice machine which would, at random times, make loud noises and rattle. In front of my room was the elevator, which dinged on every floor whenever someone pushed the button (I don't know why). Behind me was the wall of the casino...not so loud, but it bounced the sound of the Falls right into my room (that wasn't so bad, actually). And then there was the other wall.
Now, the walls of this hotel were quite thin. With a toilet so loud you could hear it down the hall, I was embarrassed to flush it. My neighbors felt no such compassion. They were either newlyweds or just really happy people, because all I heard that first night was the thumping of a bed on a wall and loud screams. That's right, I was privy to the sounds of the beast with two backs, to the music of the Horizontal Mambo, to the background music of most Cinemax movies. You get the idea.
Let me tell you, it makes hard to sleep when your wall is bouncing your bed (I ended up moving my bed away from the wall. I had to....)
With little sleep to speak of, I headed out to breakfast.
The IBO was giving us breakfast, which was nice, but they didn't have enough tables for all the attendees. If you got there late (I did), you were either standing or eating in the hall. Now I got lucky in that the other guys got up earlier (that's what happens when you sleep in the hotel where the conference is being held) and grabbed me a seat. The food was quite good. I was shocked. The last time I went to a conference, the food was terrible. That was a pleasant surprise.
I noticed there was not a ton of intermingling between schools. The guys and I talked amongst ourselves, the other school at the table only talked amongst themselves. I tried to bridge the gap (I'm a uniter, not a divider...), but they weren't having it.
With a flash of the lights, over a thousand people stood up and went off to their meetings.
I was lucky in that my group (the English teachers) were to be in the basement of the hotel in which I was staying (yeah, take that Sheraton!), which meant I could drop off my stuff during the breaks.
IB training. If you have never experienced it, it can be hard to explain. In the case of the English teachers, we had two older and VERY southern (from Texas, y'all) women. They did not really agree with each other (which would be a problem the whole weekend).
A student asked me to discuss the IB training. I'll give you bits and pieces. The biggest issue started right up front. We began with question and answer before any training. One of the guys I was there with posited a question about the "elitism" of IB. If you don't know, you have to be a very hard worker to do well in the program. In most schools the GAT kids (Gifted and Talented) are the ones who end up in the program. The concern raised by my colleague was the fact that the program is dominated by Caucasians and Asian-Americans. The response was slightly troubling (at least to me). The ladies were proud of the elitism, because it meant that only the best students will come out of the program. I don't know about you, but when I heard that, my first reaction was, "That's great and all, but what about the regular students? The ones who work really hard, but are unable to keep up. What about them?" I didn't voice this concern to the two ladies, but later I would talk to the other guys who came with me and discuss this issue further.
Back to the point, IB wants kids to be able to work at a very rigorous pace and to be able to take any passage from any book they have read and be able to discuss it's meaning, placement, etc without any problems. Now, I'm simplifying it tremendously, but that's the gist: students write the way IB wants (there is a rubric) and students talk the way IB wants (there's a rubric for that too).
The rest of the training that day was ho-hum. We got introduced, etc, etc. What was more fascinating to me was the guy with the welding torch outside the window. We would see these blue flashes now and then.
The other aspect of the whole weekend began to develop during that first session. Because we arrived late, the four of us were split up around the room. I ended up next to a girl from Colorado. I didn't think anything about it at the time (remember: little sleep, just ate, and not sure what to expect). During the entire first session, this girl would not stop talking to me. I just thought she was nervous. One of the other guys later told me I'm an idiot.
This is the seedy underbelly of the conferences and the training: the meat market aspect. When lunch came around and the guys told me about how that gal was flirting with me, I thought they were picking on me. Then we were joined another school from Minnesota (I'm not saying where, but the school is close to Minneapolis. That's all I'm saying about it). We got to discussing, and then one of the teachers from this other school asks me, "So, you been hit on yet?" I went a little numb.
"Yeah," I replied. "I have. You?"
"From the moment I got here. That girl over at the fruit...do you see her?"
"The one in black?"
He nodded.
"That's Lily (name changed just in case). She's usually so quiet and reserved."
At this point he droned a little bit about how quiet she is, how he asked her out before and was rejected, and how she had talked about how much she was looking forward to this trip.
"So," he continues, "We get here yesterday and go to the Hard Rock Cafe. She's slinging shots like they're going out of style. Next thing I know, she's in my lap sucking on my ear."
At this point my B.S. meter is ringing.
"Come on...." I retort.
"It's true," says the guy sitting next to Earlobe. "We all saw it. She was not the same person. That's what these things (he indicated the whole room) do to people."
"See, Leab," One of my colleagues says, "That girl does have a thing for you."
It's at this point I start to blush.
Earlobe continued. "People get here and consider it a free pass."
At this point, Colorado Gal comes by, places her hand on my shoulder and tells me, "I'll see you back there, Leab."
I blush even harder.
Fast foward to that night. The boys and I decide to eat on the other side of town, so we take the long walk over. Though I won't say what we discussed about, I will say that my favorite line had to do with a bridge, kids drinking underneath it, and one of them exclaiming, "Give me your hooch, bitch!"
Dinner was uneventful except for one moment. A couple sitting next to us forgot their camera. It was a nice Nikon Digital SLR (around about $1,000). I noticed it, so did one of my colleagues. He ran out to get them, I grabbed the camera and followed. Five minutes later, after we had ordered, a man and a woman came up to us and said, "That was mighty nice of you. Most people aren't good today, so it's nice to see someone do something nice. There's not many good people anymore."
Dinner went off without a hitch, though we did discover that the menu was misleading. It had a "One Pound Steak Challenge." I asked the waitress.
"There is no real challenge," she told me. "We just call it that so people will order it."
"Good marketing, I guess," I retorted.
We were on our own starting at 8:30. Two of the guys went to go to sleep. One went to go grade papers. I decided to walk around town some more. Near my hotel was a Planet Hollywood. I hadn't been in a Planet Hollywood in years. I decided to check it out and see if it was still as garish as I remember (Oh God, it was).
I went to the bar, sat down, and ordered a Molson Golden. I don't normally drink beer, but my brother-in-law is always going on about how Molson Golden in Canada is SO much better than in America because of the different brewing techniques. I wanted to see. I still think he's full of it as I didn't taste a difference.
As I sat at the bar, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was one of the ladies from the Florida that I talked to on the bus ride up.
"Hey, St. Paul right?"
"Yes, but most people call me Leab."
A slight (almost fake sounding) laugh.
At this point, the rest of her crew strolled over. I was surrounded.
"Hey there," Carol says to me. I attempt not hit her with a bottle for what she did at the border.
At this point I'm trapped. I listen to stories about students, being in Florida, etc. I talk very little. I tell the occasional joke here and there and make witty comments, but I mostly keep to myself. At one point, Jenny (not her real name) says her legs are tired from all her walking she did that day. Being a gentleman, I gave her my seat. That was a mistake. I stood next to her, and she grabbed my ass. I tried not jump as it was a shock, but I slammed my knee into the bar. That hurt, and it left a bruise.
The culmination of the evening came when Jenny told me her birthday was the next day.
"Oh," I said, "Well, happy birthday in advance. Let me buy you a drink."
"I don't want a drink," she said. "I have an idea of what I want for my birthday, and I usually get what I want."
Now, remember boys and girls. I'm a guy, and most of us are idiots. So I, of course, ask:
"And what do you want?"
All four of the ladies are now looking at me. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Carol, of all people, is shaking her head. The other three ladies start moving down the bar.
"Any thoughts on what you want?" I ask again.
"Well, I can think of one thing," she says and squeezes my arm.
Now I get it.
"Oh...OOOOhh. That's really sweet," I say, "But I'm married. Five years." At this point I show her my hand.
She's quiet for a moment, takes a drink, and then says, "Well, you don't have to be. She's not here is she?"
I shake my head.
"Well, you could have a free pass. What she doesn't know...right?"
I was shocked. I don't know if my face showed it, but my brain almost melted trying to comprehend what this woman was telling me. If my wife doesn't know, it won't hurt her. Wow. I smiled, laughed a little, and then finally said, "I'm sorry, Jenny. You're beautiful, but I'm married. If I wasn't, then that would be a different story, but I am, and I love my wife."
"That's ok," she tells me. "There's no harm in trying."
Again, my brain screams as if having an aneurysm. Hey, it's ok, I just tried to make you cheat on your wife, but no problems...no worries.
I bought her another drink. She called down the bar to her friends. "He said, 'no,' girls." Immediately, I hear the responses.
"What? What's wrong with you."
"She's gorgeous! How could you?"
"She's only 25 and throwing herself at you!"
"Look, ladies," I began. "I'm married. Five years. Quite happy. Sorry."
"Well she's not here is she?"
"Why is that the popular response?" I ask.
"Because that's what happens at these conferences," I'm told. "A teacher at our school slept with a married woman at a conference in New Mexico. There was no trouble there."
I left not long after that. Jenny did grab my ass again, but I think it was more as a goodbye. I can't really explain it.
I would see those ladies again the next two days, but more on that later.
Am I the only one troubled by this? Am I too old fashioned in the modern world? The average marriage now lasts only five years with sixty-five percent of the marriages in America ending in divorce. It's no wonder if people treat large gatherings, such as conferences, as meat markets. Instead of "Welcome Educators," maybe the banner should have read, "Let's Get It On!"
I would hear more on day three about all of the hookups. I would also be propositioned twice more. Once by an English teacher, and, sadly, once more by the Florida crew.
Like I said, everyone said this was typical. It kind of saddens me that this is true.
More tomorrow.
"What about the kids, fool?!"