Sophmoric Sophistry

"Parting is such sweet sorrow... but meeting you is better than not having met you at all." That line was on an 8th grade girl's folder.

Funny thing, these middle schoolers are. They're children on the verge of becoming young adults. Having said that, they're mostly in limbo. They're learning the norms and etiquette of being an adult, but they're still clinging to, and basing life on, their childhood.

You see, many adults end up dismissing the social behavior of middle schoolers. They feel it is beneath them. Not worthy of adult attention. Much the same way, adults tend to overlook middle schooler feelings and emotions. I once shared a poem written by an 8th grade girl with some friends. The only thing those adults could do was point out how naive the author was. But is it naivete or just a fresh outlook on a future life?

I think one of the wonderful things about my profession is that I get to deal with people who are not yet jaded in society. They haven't been stifled by society's rules and roles. They're still at that stage in life where they wonder just why do they have to wear shoes to a fancy restaurant.

So when you come down from the ivory tower, you can actually learn a lot from a kid. Kids live life with passion. They don't realize that they're doing it, but they are. And that's one thing adults always bemoan. They always wish they had more passion in their lives.

You see, when kids are happy, they're not afraid to show it. They will smile from ear to ear. They will laugh out loud. They will dance and sing. Hoot and holler. All those things.

When they are angry, they let everyone know. They don't hide it. They will scream. They will scowl and clench their teeth. Their hands would be balled up in fists. And sometimes they cry.

When they're sad, they cry. They hug each other for support. They will actually tell you that they are feeling sad.

And when they're in love, that's an incredible thing to watch too. They act awkwardly embarrassed in front of the object of their affections. They will give their favs gifts. They do nice things for each other. And sometimes, they will do those things in front of their friends, risking ridicule.

How many of us adults can say that we live life as passionately as a middle schooler?

The only hearty laugh I recently produced was the result of a girl tickling my ribs. And the only time I heard her laugh as hard was when I tried to smell her feet... and gave her the "Portagee Torture". How sad is my life that I don't laugh like that more often?

Have I been so angry I had to scream? No. OK, wait. I've been frustrated to the point where I did have to scream.

I've also been sad enough that I, a grown man, got teary eyed. But could I do that in front of others? Could I grab my friends and hold them tight and share their pain? Stupid adult male role. Doesn't allow one to be too emotional.

And how about love? Oh boy that's a doozy. Let's just say that I've spoken and acted in ways which adults would consider weird... by their own constricted standards.

I haven't even told you the secret to all this. Just what is it that allows these middle schoolers to live so passionately? Memory. Or lack of it.

They don't think of the future in terms of years. They think of the future in terms of days. They don't think of the past in years either, but in days too. So any consequence, such as ridicule, only lasts a short time. Any hurt that they feel, is but a passing irritant. It's like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Once he realized there was no future, he lived each day like it was the last day of his life.

The kids do that too. Though not on purpose.

Once again, I've probably gone way off the point. But hey, I felt like writing, so dammit, I'll write. It's my prerogative, and I'm gonna forget all the snide remarks come tomorrow. Heh.

BTW, underneath that bit of philosophy on the folder, the girl wrote, "I poop rainbows."

Hawaii History Day: District Event

OK, so lately I've been stuck trying to find good topics to write about. It doesn't help that I've been busy with serious work during the week, as opposed to my usual goofing off. Although I have had a bunch of little mini-topics, such as Valtrex, come to mind, I couldn't find one nice, juicy topic to really sink my teeth into.

And that was a lot of commas.

Oh well. I guess since I don't have the big hits, I should write some little ones to keep you two entertained.



Today was our district's History Day contest. History Day is an annual contest that revolves around large, involved research projects. Students choose a topic that relates to a given theme and create a project based on what they learned.

There are essay categories.



Multimedia.



Performances.



And display exhibits.



So students pick something they want to learn more about. They sift through secondary and primary sources. They learn the techniques of historians, or they at least learn some skills that would come in handy in college.

That's what the brochure says.

The reality is a bit different. You get a bunch of whiny kids who have to be forced into this assignment. You pull your hair out because students can't seem to connect two and two together and can't pick a topic that actually relates to the theme.

"You mean marijuana can't be a triumph in history?"

You also get frustrated since students can't even use an encyclopedia. They lack the wherewithal to even find secondary sources. You get blue in the face explaining what a primary source is, but they still draw a blank since it wasn't on MTV (a crap station geared solely to sell crap to teens).

You give them a couple of months to collect primary sources since none are available on this island. You explain to them that they will need to request some sources by mail, and it could take weeks. In the end, your students wait until the last few days to do the project. This is even after you set up deadlines for each part of the project.

But, you can't fault the students for being late. In today's fucking hippie tree-hugging-equivalent world of education, due dates aren't important so long as the kids get the point. You gotta accept the late work with a smile even though we're supposed to be creating self directed learners according to the state's education policy.



In the end, I found four projects that were acceptable. With some extra work, they could end up being very competitive. I spoke with the students and explained the changes they would have to make. Of the four, only one made the changes. Two waited until the night before the event. The fourth didn't even want to make the changes so they decided they didn't want to participate anymore.

One of the projects still had the glaring error of stating that two atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima. Sigh.

But once again, crazy policies win. Our district is allowed to send three projects in our age group to the state event. Yay for celebrating and rewarding mediocrity.



Aha! But what did I see? One of the judges from a different category came over to speak with some of my students. It seems the judges were interested in the topic my students chose. So while we were waiting for their parents...

Kids: They really liked our project.

Me: Those judges see hundreds of projects each year. There are tons of projects about Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima. The USS Indianapolis is a bit unique.

Kids: Yeah! Woohoo!

Me: How did you guys pick that topic anyway?

Kids: You told us. But we didn't tell the judges that.

Me: What? I thought you guys found it yourselves.

Kids: No.

Me: You sure? I thought you guys found it on the internet.

Kids: That was after you told us about it.

Me: Oh... No wonder you guys had a good topic.

And that was my day. How was yours? Don't need to answer that. I really don't care.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Those little phuckers...

This is the kind of stuff I have to put up with at work:

Over the weekend, I thought about changing my wardrobe. I looked into the possibility of wearing long-sleeve dress shirts and possibly ties. I figured it would really throw the kids for a loop, and it would also make me look like the professional I pretend to be. Luckily I decided to forgo the tie. It gets really, really hot where I work.



So I walk into school wearing my black Dockers and a light blue dress shirt. Every single kid I passed had the same question.

"Are you going to a funeral?"



Out here in the toenail of the United States, the number one occasion for dressing up is a funeral. It's normally too hot to wear dress shirts unless you work in air conditioned heaven all day. Even the government officials and politicians wear aloha wear.

The other day some girls were talking about who they liked during recess. I try to pay attention to these things for three reasons. One, it helps you deal with social problems if you know who likes who. Two, the kids build a better relationship with you if you show interest in their lives. And three, I'm just plain nosy.

Girl: Hey Mr. Nonwheezer. You're always asking about who we like, but you don't seem to be interested in getting a girlfriend.

Mr. Nonwheezer: Actually I am interested. It's just that girls aren't interested in me.

Boy: Of course girls would be interested in Mr. Nonwheezer. He has a motorcycle. If I had a motorcycle, I would be checking out all the chicks.

Mr. Nonwheezer: You do realize that all the girls around me are thirteen, right?

Boy: SO?

Girl: We're 12.

Mr. Nonwheezer: sigh...



Today I was giving directions on making bibliographies. I had been speaking a lot that day, so I may not have been speaking as clear as I normally do.

A girl in the front said, "Hey Mr. Nonwheezer. You sound gay when you talk like that."

sigh...



The other day in computer class, I was describing parts of the computer and passing around hardware samples. A kid asked, "is it ok to lick the circuit boards?"



This week my grades were due. I explained to the kids the grading system I used. Of course I joked about it at first saying that my favorite students got A's.

"Except this girl. This girl is not one of my favorites, yet she still got an A. However, she has the capability to become one of my greatest students. But right now she's like Darth Vader..." I was cut off before I could finish.

The girl I was speaking about asked rather abruptly, "who the fuck is Darth Vader?"

"Darth Vader! I mean, come on. Darth Vader! Star Wars? Back in the 70s there were huge lines to see the first movie? Hello?"

A smart alec boy responded with a smug voice, "you mean the FOURTH movie."

...



Mr. Nonwheezer: OK kids, this here is a flash drive. This is my personal flash drive, so don't break it. You break it, you have to buy me a new one. They're really expensive. I think this one would be about $19 now."

Boy: Nineteen dollars isn't that much. But then again, with the size of your paycheck, $19 would be expensive.

Mr. Nonwheezer: gee. thanks...



The funny thing is that all of this happened in one week. While teaching can really suck, with the stupid paperwork, the ridiculous laws, the unrealistic expectations, the low pay, etc, it's these little gems that keep the job interesting. I don't think you'll find as many candid little quips in any other job.

And how can you not get a kick out of teaching when a girl digs through your desk to find your toy stash then shouts across the room, "Mr. Nonwheezer, can I play with your balls?"

The Band Teacher's Back and I'm Gonna Be In Trouble

Hey la, hey la, the Band Teacher's back.



The Band Teacher is back. For those not in the know, let me try to explain just who the Band Teacher is.

The Band Teacher taught at our school for a couple of years before she went back to college. She's actually pretty talented, and comparing her students to other students, it turns out she was a really, really good teacher.

She also works out a lot. Her stomach is flat like a slice of sashimi. That helps to accentuate her boobs. I'm also willing to bet you can bounce quarters off her ass.



One day I helped the Band Teacher change the oil in her car. As a reward, and good mistresses reward lowly slaves, she treated me to McDonalds. I think I had Chicken Selects.



A student of ours just happened to be in the same fast food establishment. That was "patient zero." If you haven't worked at a school filled with preteen girls, you haven't seen a real grapevine in action. The rumor mill was in full swing.



The next day, the whole school was talking about how someone saw me kissing the Band Teacher. The grapevine is fast. Faster than an SR71. However, it's about as accurate as a SCUD.



Sounds like fun times, right? WRONG!

I'm guessing the Band Teacher enjoys talking to me. She calls me now and then just to chat. However, she tends to have a low bullshit tolerance. If I start to go into my usual, lovable, misogynistic self, I get the "look."



I can't make comments about how women are the anti-Christ no matter how sound my reasoning is. I have to watch what I say. I can't be too rude or crude, which sucks. If I try to smell someones burp, I would be in the doghouse. The other crappy part is that I can't flirt with her. She has like a lvl 6 Protection from Lechers spell or something.

I visited her one Saturday and I guess I must have said something funny because I got kicked... hard.



It didn't hurt. I only cried for like 4 minutes and the doctor said the bruise would heal.

I also can't tease other people when she's around. The crazy lady seems to identify with two legged mammals with permanent mammary glands. I have been left to bleed behind a dumpster after commenting on the temperature after studying a boobometer. I got off easy. Heaven knows what would have happened if I tried to determine if it measured in Celsius or liters.

Jugs.



So now that she's back, she'll probably want to hang out. I'm too scared to say no. Perhaps I can modify my personal space shields into something more tangible like barbwire.



Of course, if she reads this, I am as good as dead. So, my dear readers, all three of you, if the blogs stop, start dredging the rivers. You'll eventually find my mangled corpse rotting with a smile because I would most likely get off one joke before I swing.

Middle School Adventures Part 1

Ah, HAMS. The Hawaii Association of Middle Schools.

This group puts on annual conferences which gather together top teachers from schools all over the state. Not sure why I had to go.

No seriously, I was an afterthought. I was asked literally days before the event.

Anyway, this year's conference was held at Punahou Chase Middle School. It's on a different island from me. Which means I had to wake up at around 4:30 AM to get there on time. I woke up before the cocks get excited at the crack of dawn.

There were 10 of us all together. For some, Starbucks was a God-send. I'm glad I avoided it. I swear the employee that was in the bathroom with me did not wash his hands.


Our second order of business was to get our rental cars and head on over to the school. I was the errr... lucky one to get stuck in a car with Shara and Audrey.

Audrey went through each channel on the radio twice and still couldn't find a station she liked. She made me cower when she mentioned Tim McGraw.

As we passed the others, at incredible rates of speed, I looked out the window and prayed for salvation.

Shara: I bet Nate [teacher] wish he was in this car with the cool people.
Me: Who said you're cool?
Shara & Audrey: We did!
Me: ok. . . (meekly)
Shara: Dale Earnhardt Jr is a sissy.

She then proceeded to floor it. We passed 74 cars on the freeway, averaged 183 kmh, and placed 3rd at Charlotte.

When we arrived, they receptionists gave us funny hats and sheriff badges. Way to improve teacher morale! The keynote speaker was awesome though. She had a lot to say and yet was extremely entertaining. She spoke for about an hour and yet we wanted more.


After the speeches, we broke off into different sessions for training, tours, etc. I took the tour. When else would I ever be on a campus like Chase Middle? I'm not rich, and I'm not good enough to work here.

They say that Washington DC was designed to impress and awe visiting heads of state. They haven't seen Chase Middle. This is just the 6th grade entryway.


And their hallways.


And the students' common meeting area.


OK, We get it. I'm in frikking awe. Now stop rubbing it in. I mean I know I will never get this thing here:

air conditioning.

Anyway, after another session about technology in the classroom, something our tech coordinator already explained to us, it was lunch time. Audrey loves hats!


And food!


In this pic, from left to right: teachers.


For our viewing pleasure, a bunch of the students were forced to sing and dance. Dance you puppets, dance! HAHAHA! (they actually were really talented)


What followed was a really boring and useless session where the presenter had no useful information. Luckily my last session had a wonderful presenter who had great information about effective teaming. After that it was time for us to escape.

This is the teacher's parking. A gated, underground garage. I thought I was lucky we had painted lines in our parking lot.

On the way back we caught up with Nate. He had snuck out to a bar in Tijuana for a few drinks. He mentioned something about 12 year olds not being able to handle more than 2 shots of tequila before passing out. This shot came out blurry since he was too drunk for my camera to stay still.