and a beautiful Lady of the House, and a knight/dragon (it depends on his mood) and even an incredibly lazy ferocious beast...it seems appropriate to announce the impending arrival of a princess.
Coming soon to a Leigh House, possibly but not necessarily near you: a Baby girl. God is gracious and generous.
Showing posts with label Fun Stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fun Stuff. Show all posts
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Friday, December 26, 2008
It Was Only a Matter of Time
I had a fairly stable home life as a kid. All growing up, you could count on several things as a part of my family.
Mom and Dad loved each other, and wouldn't give up, even when things got hard (and they DID get hard!).
We moved a lot, but my parents always tried to help us kids make the best of it.
Dad made chili and spaghetti, and the best shredded beef burritos you've ever tasted. Mom made pretty much everything else.
Sundays were family days.
Christmas was the best time of the year.
We'd take big vacations rather than save every penny for the future.
And whenever my Dad was with his brothers, he would instantly forget his children's names.
It wasn't a problem most of the time. Sure, Dad had some issues when we had pets...one of our dogs was named Butterscotch, and she had a knack for getting out of the yard. One day my dad was chasing her down the street and was bumbling over her name..."Come HERE Zach...Cilla...Chris..., um, uh...GOLDENROD!" Our dog actually stopped in the middle of the road and turned to look at him, before continuing her escape.
From time to Dad would call us kids by the wrong names, something I am certain happens in most families.
But nothing compared to when my dad was with his brothers. He couldn't call us by name if his life depended on it. It was truly amazing...once the effect occured while they were half a world away; we had a phone call with my uncles, and I became Adam, my dad's youngest brother for hours.
We would make fun of Dad, mock him and the inevitable confusion that would result from proximity of any kind with his brothers.
I should have known better.
We have (at present) only one kid, and so I have been able to avoid the challenge of remembering his name. That may change come August...but in the meantime, we've already added to the equation with Ody.
Aiden and Ody. Ody & Aiden.
Last night during prayers, I was asking for the Lord's blessing on...wait for it...Odin. Laughing, I tried to correct my mistake...and promptly asked the Lord to bless Aidy.
The curse has been passed down to me. Sigh.
Mom and Dad loved each other, and wouldn't give up, even when things got hard (and they DID get hard!).
We moved a lot, but my parents always tried to help us kids make the best of it.
Dad made chili and spaghetti, and the best shredded beef burritos you've ever tasted. Mom made pretty much everything else.
Sundays were family days.
Christmas was the best time of the year.
We'd take big vacations rather than save every penny for the future.
And whenever my Dad was with his brothers, he would instantly forget his children's names.
It wasn't a problem most of the time. Sure, Dad had some issues when we had pets...one of our dogs was named Butterscotch, and she had a knack for getting out of the yard. One day my dad was chasing her down the street and was bumbling over her name..."Come HERE Zach...Cilla...Chris..., um, uh...GOLDENROD!" Our dog actually stopped in the middle of the road and turned to look at him, before continuing her escape.
From time to Dad would call us kids by the wrong names, something I am certain happens in most families.
But nothing compared to when my dad was with his brothers. He couldn't call us by name if his life depended on it. It was truly amazing...once the effect occured while they were half a world away; we had a phone call with my uncles, and I became Adam, my dad's youngest brother for hours.
We would make fun of Dad, mock him and the inevitable confusion that would result from proximity of any kind with his brothers.
I should have known better.
We have (at present) only one kid, and so I have been able to avoid the challenge of remembering his name. That may change come August...but in the meantime, we've already added to the equation with Ody.
Aiden and Ody. Ody & Aiden.
Last night during prayers, I was asking for the Lord's blessing on...wait for it...Odin. Laughing, I tried to correct my mistake...and promptly asked the Lord to bless Aidy.
The curse has been passed down to me. Sigh.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Canis Lupis Gaseous
We have a dog!
He's wonderful.
He's a Basset Hound/Mix puppy, and when we got him, he had just turned 11 weeks, and weighed 21 lbs.
He is white with orange-ish brown spots.
He is quiet, he is gentle, he sleeps a lot (at different intervals, he's fallen asleep leaning against a large stuffed animal, on one of our couch pillows, resting his head on a book I was reading and had left on the floor, etc...all picture perfect if only our camera was working), and he is already using the "doggie door" (in quotes, because it is actually a cat door...but it functions as a doggie door until he grows...we'll try to replace it before then, but for now, we're broke and it works...).
When he walks, his naturally odd build makes him really funny to watch.
He loves Aiden, Sheri and me, and is very happy to curl up and sleep next to us in the living room.
He's a perfect addition to the family.
His name is Odysseus...and we call him "Ody" for short.
We love him a lot...and there's only one area in which we wish our special guy was different.
The books mention that Bassets can be...overly prone to clear a room when they get a little too relaxed...they let their guard down...and a silent cloud of death quickly spreads throughout the immediate area.
Ody is no exception to this rule.
Wow, is he NOT an exception.
It gives a new meaning to the idea of a stinky dog. When not afflicting us in this manner, Ody smells pretty good (we did just give him a bath, but still...he's soft and nice smelling...unless he's destroying your sense of smell with an SBD...)
Still...he's awesome. We have a Christmas puppy! So exciting!
He's wonderful.
He's a Basset Hound/Mix puppy, and when we got him, he had just turned 11 weeks, and weighed 21 lbs.
He is white with orange-ish brown spots.
He is quiet, he is gentle, he sleeps a lot (at different intervals, he's fallen asleep leaning against a large stuffed animal, on one of our couch pillows, resting his head on a book I was reading and had left on the floor, etc...all picture perfect if only our camera was working), and he is already using the "doggie door" (in quotes, because it is actually a cat door...but it functions as a doggie door until he grows...we'll try to replace it before then, but for now, we're broke and it works...).
When he walks, his naturally odd build makes him really funny to watch.
He loves Aiden, Sheri and me, and is very happy to curl up and sleep next to us in the living room.
He's a perfect addition to the family.
His name is Odysseus...and we call him "Ody" for short.
We love him a lot...and there's only one area in which we wish our special guy was different.
The books mention that Bassets can be...overly prone to clear a room when they get a little too relaxed...they let their guard down...and a silent cloud of death quickly spreads throughout the immediate area.
Ody is no exception to this rule.
Wow, is he NOT an exception.
It gives a new meaning to the idea of a stinky dog. When not afflicting us in this manner, Ody smells pretty good (we did just give him a bath, but still...he's soft and nice smelling...unless he's destroying your sense of smell with an SBD...)
Still...he's awesome. We have a Christmas puppy! So exciting!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Saving the American Car
Sometimes, going backwards is the best way to go forward.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am not mechanically inclined. I am perpetually paying more for stuff handier people could take care of themselves. I have accepted that my unhandiness is part of my life...I am what I am, and I have accepted it. I have other talents...not ones that make me particularly popular on man-night (I have zero ball-handling skills--you do NOT want me on your basketball team, am clumsy when it comes to carpentry or mechanics, and I am not wild about any football team, college or pro...I have some preferences, but I adopted those in part to avoid being a leper amongst my fellow men). I am working on amending the problem...I am proud to say my drink of choice is scotch (Scotchy, Scotch, Scotch...I like Scotch...) and I really enjoy a good cigar (I had my first Cubans this summer...amazing). I enjoy poker and meat...I like eating meat while playing poker. And I have what might almost be called lust for the muscle car.
Which is really odd...since I am not the car-type. I don't care much about cars, nor have I ever been moved to learn much about cars.
But I cannot resist the old Muscle Cars. Even when they're not restored, I think they're just about the sexiest things on the road. I know I am doomed to never own one...you cannot one one unless you can take care of it, and I know I couldn't take care of it...but that doesn't stop the longing.
SO...with this in mind, I propose my solution to the dilemma facing Detroit. American cars cannot compete with Japanese cars. I know it is not entirely because of the product...but the product doesn't help. Compare a Focus with the Civic. Although the Focus is the closest Ford comes to competing, it cannot close the deal...it's just not as nice as the Civic. American Car's R&D departments just cannot muster the energy to put a stop to the foreign cars' dominance.
What is the answer? Look to the past! Get rid of the R&D departments, the focus groups that are obviously missing the mark, and the innovation that continues to produce cars that nobody wants to buy.
STOP!
Start making the old shells again. Put your Ford Focus into a classic Mustang body. No, it won't be an actual "Muscle Car" but who really cares? Get a nice loud muffler on that baby, a fresh, bright coat of gumball red...no more talk of a bailout.
Bring back the classics...those of us who don't want to spend every day this summer taking apart an engine (and wouldn't know where to begin even if we did want to!) will flock to your stores, and buy the cars we have loved since we were old enough to hold the Hot Wheel versions.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am not mechanically inclined. I am perpetually paying more for stuff handier people could take care of themselves. I have accepted that my unhandiness is part of my life...I am what I am, and I have accepted it. I have other talents...not ones that make me particularly popular on man-night (I have zero ball-handling skills--you do NOT want me on your basketball team, am clumsy when it comes to carpentry or mechanics, and I am not wild about any football team, college or pro...I have some preferences, but I adopted those in part to avoid being a leper amongst my fellow men). I am working on amending the problem...I am proud to say my drink of choice is scotch (Scotchy, Scotch, Scotch...I like Scotch...) and I really enjoy a good cigar (I had my first Cubans this summer...amazing). I enjoy poker and meat...I like eating meat while playing poker. And I have what might almost be called lust for the muscle car.
Which is really odd...since I am not the car-type. I don't care much about cars, nor have I ever been moved to learn much about cars.
But I cannot resist the old Muscle Cars. Even when they're not restored, I think they're just about the sexiest things on the road. I know I am doomed to never own one...you cannot one one unless you can take care of it, and I know I couldn't take care of it...but that doesn't stop the longing.
SO...with this in mind, I propose my solution to the dilemma facing Detroit. American cars cannot compete with Japanese cars. I know it is not entirely because of the product...but the product doesn't help. Compare a Focus with the Civic. Although the Focus is the closest Ford comes to competing, it cannot close the deal...it's just not as nice as the Civic. American Car's R&D departments just cannot muster the energy to put a stop to the foreign cars' dominance.
What is the answer? Look to the past! Get rid of the R&D departments, the focus groups that are obviously missing the mark, and the innovation that continues to produce cars that nobody wants to buy.
STOP!
Start making the old shells again. Put your Ford Focus into a classic Mustang body. No, it won't be an actual "Muscle Car" but who really cares? Get a nice loud muffler on that baby, a fresh, bright coat of gumball red...no more talk of a bailout.
Bring back the classics...those of us who don't want to spend every day this summer taking apart an engine (and wouldn't know where to begin even if we did want to!) will flock to your stores, and buy the cars we have loved since we were old enough to hold the Hot Wheel versions.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 06, 2008
The 5 Films You Need To Watch This Christmas
I'm not a terribly original film connoisseur, but choosing a classic is hardly something to be ashamed of. My list, from bottom to top, for your Christmas viewing is as follows:
5. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. More for its sentimental value than for the story (although the story itself is also a treasure), this cartoon ranks a spot on my list of Christmas "must sees" because it wouldn't be Christmas if we didn't get to see the Grinch's heart grow three sizes that day.
4. Love Actually. This is the most modern of my selections, and if you are taking my list as a guide, you should be warned: there is foul language and nudity in this love story. However...it paints a vivid picture of the effect that Christmas has on the world, even a world that is not particularly centered on Christ. We love, we risk, we cherish...because that's what you do at Christmas. Great story, fun movie.
3. Jesus of Nazareth. This is not a strictly "Christmas Movie" per se, however it does involve a great section on the birth of Christ. Franco Zeffirelli treats you to a powerful (and long) telling of the life of Christ, from beginning to end. Not to be missed is the story of the Prodigal Son, or the redemption of Mary Magdalene. Find it, set aside a weekend, and reflect on the grace of God and the reason for Christmas.
2. The Christmas Carol. In keeping with my long established disdain for the rules of any game, I will use this opportunity to list three movies as one: my favorites three versions of The Christmas Carol.
The 1951 Alastair Sim "Scrooge" in black and white is a classic, and includes some fantastic scenes of Scrooge at Marley's deathbed which every other version skips over. Scrooge is particularly abusive of his fellow man in this one, which makes his conversion all that much more joyful.
The Muppet Christmas Carol, fun and brilliant. My son can watch it, and I never get tired of hearing the song from the Ghost of Christmas Present, or the jokes from Gonzo and Rizzo.
And finally, the George C Scott Christmas Carol; if pressed, this is my favorite version of the story. George C Scott plays Scrooge as cold, calculating, and untouchable by the world, until prodded from his isolation by the ghosts, culminating in the sheer terror of the Future. His redemption is tender, sincere, and moving. If you haven't seen this version, run to the store and do yourself a favor.
And finally...
1. It's a Wonderful Life. As I say, not terribly original. But I challenge you to yawn as George Bailey struggles against his destiny as a responsible man. If there is a movie we need to think about more in this day and age, I cannot think of it. This movie also lays claim to some of my favorite lines..."The police are way on the other side of town--they'd be on my side too!" "I think I'll go find the girl and have some passionate necking." Ultimately, as a man who is struggling to be good while watching his dreams pass him by, George stands as an example to every man in this age of self indulgence. I aspire to be George Bailey, and Christmas is not Christmas without the reminder of the role of sacrifice in our lives.
5. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. More for its sentimental value than for the story (although the story itself is also a treasure), this cartoon ranks a spot on my list of Christmas "must sees" because it wouldn't be Christmas if we didn't get to see the Grinch's heart grow three sizes that day.
4. Love Actually. This is the most modern of my selections, and if you are taking my list as a guide, you should be warned: there is foul language and nudity in this love story. However...it paints a vivid picture of the effect that Christmas has on the world, even a world that is not particularly centered on Christ. We love, we risk, we cherish...because that's what you do at Christmas. Great story, fun movie.
3. Jesus of Nazareth. This is not a strictly "Christmas Movie" per se, however it does involve a great section on the birth of Christ. Franco Zeffirelli treats you to a powerful (and long) telling of the life of Christ, from beginning to end. Not to be missed is the story of the Prodigal Son, or the redemption of Mary Magdalene. Find it, set aside a weekend, and reflect on the grace of God and the reason for Christmas.
2. The Christmas Carol. In keeping with my long established disdain for the rules of any game, I will use this opportunity to list three movies as one: my favorites three versions of The Christmas Carol.
The 1951 Alastair Sim "Scrooge" in black and white is a classic, and includes some fantastic scenes of Scrooge at Marley's deathbed which every other version skips over. Scrooge is particularly abusive of his fellow man in this one, which makes his conversion all that much more joyful.
The Muppet Christmas Carol, fun and brilliant. My son can watch it, and I never get tired of hearing the song from the Ghost of Christmas Present, or the jokes from Gonzo and Rizzo.
And finally, the George C Scott Christmas Carol; if pressed, this is my favorite version of the story. George C Scott plays Scrooge as cold, calculating, and untouchable by the world, until prodded from his isolation by the ghosts, culminating in the sheer terror of the Future. His redemption is tender, sincere, and moving. If you haven't seen this version, run to the store and do yourself a favor.
And finally...
1. It's a Wonderful Life. As I say, not terribly original. But I challenge you to yawn as George Bailey struggles against his destiny as a responsible man. If there is a movie we need to think about more in this day and age, I cannot think of it. This movie also lays claim to some of my favorite lines..."The police are way on the other side of town--they'd be on my side too!" "I think I'll go find the girl and have some passionate necking." Ultimately, as a man who is struggling to be good while watching his dreams pass him by, George stands as an example to every man in this age of self indulgence. I aspire to be George Bailey, and Christmas is not Christmas without the reminder of the role of sacrifice in our lives.
Monday, November 17, 2008
In Defense of the West
When the movie 300 came out, there were mixed responses amongst many of my friends. Some loved it. Some hated it. Some scoffed at the suggestion that the Spartans were the defenders of freedom and liberty and the West. Some wondered why everyone was wearing a leather bikini...I loved the movie. I thought it was a lot of fun, but more than that, that it spoke to a call that I believe rang out at Thermopylae, and again and again throughout the ages...the call to defend the West.
I cannot offer the most articulate defense of this idea, "The West", and even if I did here offer up my best thoughts, they would be poor shadows of better men's thoughts. What I will offer tonight is my best reason for believing that 300 got something important right.
The Spartan 300 have been hailed through the ages as some of the first glorious martyrs for the cause of the West. Many have suggested that this is a particularly ironic interpretation of the events, since the Spartans were not a free society...and their prosperity came at the cost of other's freedom (poor Helots). Still...they stood against the first global empire...they resisted a tyrant, in favor of preserving the Greek way of life; the Polis, and free citizens.
Were the Spartans perfect representations of the West that was born, in part, as a result of their efforts? No. Barely a generation later, Spartans would be responsible for sacking Athens, the seat of freedom and liberty in Greece. But against the Persians, the Spartans stood with their fellow Greeks, in defiance.
Reynolds used to tell us that it was a sign of the downfall of the West that he is allowed to teach us at all. By this same reasoning...it is a sign of how fragile and new the West was that the Spartans were among the defenders...yet defend it, they did. They worked to establish a future they did not even comprehend, a world they would not have been allowed to inhabit, once it was established. They faced overwhelming odds and certain defeat, with hope and reckless abandon, for the tomorrow they would not allow to slip away into the night.
"They ushered in a future brighter than anything they could imagine."
Today, we may be poor, shattered, fragments of the inheritance to which we still cling. We teachers may barely qualify as students, starting their educations, in the generations that have gone before. Our challenges are daunting, and it is doubtful that the tide can be held back; but our task is clearly set out before us. As the last heirs of the West in twilight, it is ours to hold the line, to stand as 300 stood in a gap and make a mark that will change history. It is a good time to be a teacher.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I Moved Into a Burning Ring of Fire...
It was the Summer of 2008 when we moved from La Mirada, our home for the first five years of our marriage, my home since I left the Philippines in 2000 to go to college at Biola University.
We moved up to Santa Clarita, almost exactly 50 miles from where we once lived. On the whole, though I miss many dear friends from our old home, I love our new place. We have a house, we are settling in, we will get a dog (SOON!!!) and it has been a good time.
Something I didn't realize, as we were making our move, was that we were moving into the area where all the Fires happen. Today, we're cut off from home...because of massive fires everywhere.
I didn't realize it until I looked outside today and the sky was orange. Cah-razy
We moved up to Santa Clarita, almost exactly 50 miles from where we once lived. On the whole, though I miss many dear friends from our old home, I love our new place. We have a house, we are settling in, we will get a dog (SOON!!!) and it has been a good time.
Something I didn't realize, as we were making our move, was that we were moving into the area where all the Fires happen. Today, we're cut off from home...because of massive fires everywhere.
I didn't realize it until I looked outside today and the sky was orange. Cah-razy
Friday, November 14, 2008
These are not...my...pants
It would happen on a Friday.
Out on the dodgeball field, revealing my mad dodgeballing skills...I went to reach for a ball...bent down...and suddenly felt a breath of fresh air...in the seat of my pants.
I split my pants.
I SPLIT MY STUPID, STINKING, *@&&!#@#@ PANTS.
Fortunately, not badly. Right up the seam...and not too noticably. I was due to teach a class in two minutes...so I managed to back off the field without attracting any attention, and call over another teacher to get some help.
The resolution to this problem wasn't all that exciting. What I don't understand, what puzzles me beyond reason, is why this pair of pants has always been so ridiculously tight. Not because I am in denial about a flux in my own weight...I know I have fluxed. No, the problem is that this pair of pants was exactly the same as three other pairs of pants that I own, excepting the color. The same brand, the same cut, the same size...and all a different fit.
Why, oh world of affordable fashion, why are your pants vairable sizes when they claim to be uniform?!?!?!? WHY?!?!?!?
I have resolved to procure some pants of real quality in the near future...I like to set attainable goals. This week...get new pants.
Out on the dodgeball field, revealing my mad dodgeballing skills...I went to reach for a ball...bent down...and suddenly felt a breath of fresh air...in the seat of my pants.
I split my pants.
I SPLIT MY STUPID, STINKING, *@&&!#@#@ PANTS.
Fortunately, not badly. Right up the seam...and not too noticably. I was due to teach a class in two minutes...so I managed to back off the field without attracting any attention, and call over another teacher to get some help.
The resolution to this problem wasn't all that exciting. What I don't understand, what puzzles me beyond reason, is why this pair of pants has always been so ridiculously tight. Not because I am in denial about a flux in my own weight...I know I have fluxed. No, the problem is that this pair of pants was exactly the same as three other pairs of pants that I own, excepting the color. The same brand, the same cut, the same size...and all a different fit.
Why, oh world of affordable fashion, why are your pants vairable sizes when they claim to be uniform?!?!?!? WHY?!?!?!?
I have resolved to procure some pants of real quality in the near future...I like to set attainable goals. This week...get new pants.
Friday, November 07, 2008
More on This Later...
There are many reasons I support our veterans, and I will be happy and proud to show my appreciation for their service and sacrifice over the next few days...but on a light-hearted note, allow me to say that I am thankful to our Vet's because they afford us a three day weekend...just about exactly when I needed one.
Thank you, men and women of the armed services...in so many ways you sacrifice so that others do not need to...and for one lame but very sincere teacher, this three day weekend is just another instance of your provision for our country!
Thank you, men and women of the armed services...in so many ways you sacrifice so that others do not need to...and for one lame but very sincere teacher, this three day weekend is just another instance of your provision for our country!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Its the End of the World as We Know It
When given the option of making a solid prediction regarding the continuation of life on planet earth...avoid making claims tied to specific dates. Dates are too messy, and have a nasty habit of being wrong. Far easier to vaguely suggest the end of the world if your advice goes unheeded...some might blow you off, but at least you won't be the laughing stock of the world the morning after your predicted the Apocalypse...
Al Gore should have taken this into consideration when making his predictions...after all, there have been some classic instances of marking the exact date you're dire warnings become completely obsolete...Hal Lindsey, Edgar C. Whisenant, and many, many, many others...
Then it might not be so funny when scientists are utterly confused why science isn't producing the results they've come to expect... Who Knew? Man might not be a parasite, might not be the worst enemy of the world...or at least might not actually be the most powerful force to impact the earth and the rotation of the planets...
Al Gore should have taken this into consideration when making his predictions...after all, there have been some classic instances of marking the exact date you're dire warnings become completely obsolete...Hal Lindsey, Edgar C. Whisenant, and many, many, many others...
Then it might not be so funny when scientists are utterly confused why science isn't producing the results they've come to expect... Who Knew? Man might not be a parasite, might not be the worst enemy of the world...or at least might not actually be the most powerful force to impact the earth and the rotation of the planets...
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
I am actually NOT trying to get into trouble...
Yesterday I made...well, a mistake. It might be understandable...and thus far, nothing has come of it. Still...it comes at the beginning of a less than perfect week...I just want everything to run smoothly from now on...and yesterday didn't help...
See, I teach one of the drama classes at our school; the class for 7th & 8th graders, Monday and Wednesday. Its a lot of fun, and a little challenging; middle-schoolers are not generally prone to drama in the formal sense...its a bit like channeling a river, getting them to use their expressive energies productively.
We've done a lot of work on basic emotional expression, as well as developing their level of comfort in front of their peers, doing silly or awkward things.
Finally we've come to the time when we can begin using lines. I have been looking for sources, but haven't had a whole lot of luck. Finally one of the other teachers lent me a book, and I started picking some scenes. I picked a scene for the ladies of the class from Little Women...for the boys, of whom there are several, I had to try and find a large scene with something interesting.
I found a scene from a play called "Dead End" set sometime in 19th century, on the streets New York. 5 street kids...one rich kid...and a "Jew kid". The language was stylized to make them sound like they were from New York, and some of the sayings are a litte rough. There are issues of class prejudices, racial prejudices...but I decided we could use that to discuss some of what theater allows us to explore.
There were two or three "bad words" such as "ass" or "hell"...I figured it was nothing they hadn't encountered at some point, and we would just change the words and move on.
Somehow...I missed the real gems. I won't repeat the worst of them here... but...at one point one of the charaters teased the "rich kid" for being a sissy...and suggested that he had the appetite and eating habits of an infant...only...not quite like that...
Then there were the derisive racial slurs when the "Jew kid" entered the scene...again, in my cursory reading of the scene, somehow I missed them.
The scene ends with the 5 street kids throwing the "Jew kid" to the ground, holding him down, spreading his legs and preparing to "cockalize" him. Fortunately, none of my kids could figure out what that meant...
Sigh.
As the kids left the class room, on their way to get into their cars with their parents and go home, I heard them muttering some of the delightful new words they had picked up from my class...the end of a not so great Monday.
See, I teach one of the drama classes at our school; the class for 7th & 8th graders, Monday and Wednesday. Its a lot of fun, and a little challenging; middle-schoolers are not generally prone to drama in the formal sense...its a bit like channeling a river, getting them to use their expressive energies productively.
We've done a lot of work on basic emotional expression, as well as developing their level of comfort in front of their peers, doing silly or awkward things.
Finally we've come to the time when we can begin using lines. I have been looking for sources, but haven't had a whole lot of luck. Finally one of the other teachers lent me a book, and I started picking some scenes. I picked a scene for the ladies of the class from Little Women...for the boys, of whom there are several, I had to try and find a large scene with something interesting.
I found a scene from a play called "Dead End" set sometime in 19th century, on the streets New York. 5 street kids...one rich kid...and a "Jew kid". The language was stylized to make them sound like they were from New York, and some of the sayings are a litte rough. There are issues of class prejudices, racial prejudices...but I decided we could use that to discuss some of what theater allows us to explore.
There were two or three "bad words" such as "ass" or "hell"...I figured it was nothing they hadn't encountered at some point, and we would just change the words and move on.
Somehow...I missed the real gems. I won't repeat the worst of them here... but...at one point one of the charaters teased the "rich kid" for being a sissy...and suggested that he had the appetite and eating habits of an infant...only...not quite like that...
Then there were the derisive racial slurs when the "Jew kid" entered the scene...again, in my cursory reading of the scene, somehow I missed them.
The scene ends with the 5 street kids throwing the "Jew kid" to the ground, holding him down, spreading his legs and preparing to "cockalize" him. Fortunately, none of my kids could figure out what that meant...
Sigh.
As the kids left the class room, on their way to get into their cars with their parents and go home, I heard them muttering some of the delightful new words they had picked up from my class...the end of a not so great Monday.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Ramblin' On
Get home from the first day of the last week of 1st Quarter...and its time to ramble on...
Monday, October 06, 2008
Its Monday Morning
And I love my job.
Sure, I'm tired. I got roughly 4 hours of sleep last night. My house is in mild disarray from the weekend, to say nothing of the perpetual disarray from moving, etc. I am still sick with the phlegm that clings to my lungs despite my best efforts to hack it out. I have a slight headache from coughing so much. The body needs more care; a fact that I am trying to address in my "spare time".
Yes, I have a lot of work to do. I am slightly behind on grading. There are at least half-a-dozen things I was supposed to do before I got here this morning, and they remain undone. Hopefully this evening.
None of this matters...today I get to try and teach my students to love words. Today I get to talk to them about the magic of sitting under the stars and waiting for God to speak to them. Today I get to guide them as they meet Helen and Paris. Today I get to push them to ask questions about God's dealing with Saul...could Saul have been saved? Why doesn't David kill Saul? Why doesn't the Lord end Saul? What matters most to Saul?
It's a good day...even if it is a Monday.
Sure, I'm tired. I got roughly 4 hours of sleep last night. My house is in mild disarray from the weekend, to say nothing of the perpetual disarray from moving, etc. I am still sick with the phlegm that clings to my lungs despite my best efforts to hack it out. I have a slight headache from coughing so much. The body needs more care; a fact that I am trying to address in my "spare time".
Yes, I have a lot of work to do. I am slightly behind on grading. There are at least half-a-dozen things I was supposed to do before I got here this morning, and they remain undone. Hopefully this evening.
None of this matters...today I get to try and teach my students to love words. Today I get to talk to them about the magic of sitting under the stars and waiting for God to speak to them. Today I get to guide them as they meet Helen and Paris. Today I get to push them to ask questions about God's dealing with Saul...could Saul have been saved? Why doesn't David kill Saul? Why doesn't the Lord end Saul? What matters most to Saul?
It's a good day...even if it is a Monday.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Something every teacher should know
How many kids they could take in a knock down, drag out, fight.
31
31
Created by OnePlusYou - Online Dating Site
Monday, September 15, 2008
Reasons I Love My Job
1. The Students.
My students are bright, pleasant, cheerful, and open to learning. They have hope for a good tomorrow...and by spending time in the class with them, I am inspired to be a better person myself. My experience with teach has been, for some time now, a sanctifying one. I frequently fail...but to do the job well, as I look at my students, I know that I have more work to do...and I want to make a real go of it.
2. The Administration...seriously. I don't believe they even know I have a blog...but that is neither here nor there. This isn't about brownie points...its a very real acknowledgement. I have been blessed, throughout most of my time teaching, with excellent administrators. Sometimes I failed them...sometimes their bosses forced them to fail me. At Trinity...well, my bosses (from the very top on down too!) have the vision. They want education to expand the souls of the students...not merely equip them to pass tests and get jobs, based on the ridiculous suggestion that people with larger souls are more desireable people as a whole. They support the teachers in a way that separates them from many, many schools (I know this from stories from other teachers...) It is a blessing, and its one I thank God for regularly.
3. The opportunity to grow in this school. To some extent, the ceiling is set by my own ambition. Nearly every suggestion I have made regarding class content, class events, class structure, etc has been met with one basic question; how does it further the purpose of the class? If it is reasonable and if I can show how it supports the mission of the class...I get the green light. I am amazed by this approach towards growing the school...and excited by what that means in the years to come.
My students are bright, pleasant, cheerful, and open to learning. They have hope for a good tomorrow...and by spending time in the class with them, I am inspired to be a better person myself. My experience with teach has been, for some time now, a sanctifying one. I frequently fail...but to do the job well, as I look at my students, I know that I have more work to do...and I want to make a real go of it.
2. The Administration...seriously. I don't believe they even know I have a blog...but that is neither here nor there. This isn't about brownie points...its a very real acknowledgement. I have been blessed, throughout most of my time teaching, with excellent administrators. Sometimes I failed them...sometimes their bosses forced them to fail me. At Trinity...well, my bosses (from the very top on down too!) have the vision. They want education to expand the souls of the students...not merely equip them to pass tests and get jobs, based on the ridiculous suggestion that people with larger souls are more desireable people as a whole. They support the teachers in a way that separates them from many, many schools (I know this from stories from other teachers...) It is a blessing, and its one I thank God for regularly.
3. The opportunity to grow in this school. To some extent, the ceiling is set by my own ambition. Nearly every suggestion I have made regarding class content, class events, class structure, etc has been met with one basic question; how does it further the purpose of the class? If it is reasonable and if I can show how it supports the mission of the class...I get the green light. I am amazed by this approach towards growing the school...and excited by what that means in the years to come.
Monday, May 19, 2008
What's Been Goin' On
There's a story...and I will get to tell it soon...
Right now though, Sheri graduates this Saturday. Can we say Awe-some?
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
In Defense of Superman
A friend sent me this. I read it and responded...and thought that it was a discussion worth having out loud. Here are my thoughts:
I could go into a lot of reasons that writer’s an idiot…apart from his inability to write well, his approach to reading is also about as refined as the 13 year olds that toss out Superman comics, thinking they have found the truly profound “real” comics because they started reading some Frank Miller (and I like Frank Miller…but his stuff doesn’t compare to Kingdom Come)…
But the real problem with this writer is that he doesn’t understand the nature of a hero or the power of the image that Superman represents. Superman cannot be harmed…he is a god among men…but serves instead he serves us. Batman is a man who decides to circumvent the institutes of men to establish justice as he sees fit. He’s also a hero…but I think it is grossly naïve to suggest that Batman is a greater hero because he struggles against other men, outside the law, all the while ignoring the fact that Superman struggles to empower other men within the law.
The writer also ignores the real psychological battles Superman deals with—something epics like Kingdom Come wrestle with. How does a god-man live in a world of fallen men…and not hate them? How does he not only not hate them; he serves them? Superman is hope personified; not because he cannot be harmed, but because he strives for beings so much less than himself…because he takes on man’s burdens as his own, and loves them better than they love themselves. In short, the writer lacks any sense of the subtlety which makes Superman perhaps the greatest Superhero of all time. It’s why Superman is such a Christ-like hero.
If the compulsion to contemplate suicide is what qualifies you for being a “real” hero for this writer, I hope it is obvious that his opinion of what a hero is needs some realigning. While heroes experiencing real struggles help us relate to them, why should we expect our heroes to be more messed up than most of us? Do you normally contemplate suicide? I certainly don’t…and I am hardly convinced that the better hero is an individual that hates his life enough to wish for death, rather than an individual who values life enough to place ours as a premium.
These are my thoughts.
I could go into a lot of reasons that writer’s an idiot…apart from his inability to write well, his approach to reading is also about as refined as the 13 year olds that toss out Superman comics, thinking they have found the truly profound “real” comics because they started reading some Frank Miller (and I like Frank Miller…but his stuff doesn’t compare to Kingdom Come)…
But the real problem with this writer is that he doesn’t understand the nature of a hero or the power of the image that Superman represents. Superman cannot be harmed…he is a god among men…but serves instead he serves us. Batman is a man who decides to circumvent the institutes of men to establish justice as he sees fit. He’s also a hero…but I think it is grossly naïve to suggest that Batman is a greater hero because he struggles against other men, outside the law, all the while ignoring the fact that Superman struggles to empower other men within the law.
The writer also ignores the real psychological battles Superman deals with—something epics like Kingdom Come wrestle with. How does a god-man live in a world of fallen men…and not hate them? How does he not only not hate them; he serves them? Superman is hope personified; not because he cannot be harmed, but because he strives for beings so much less than himself…because he takes on man’s burdens as his own, and loves them better than they love themselves. In short, the writer lacks any sense of the subtlety which makes Superman perhaps the greatest Superhero of all time. It’s why Superman is such a Christ-like hero.
If the compulsion to contemplate suicide is what qualifies you for being a “real” hero for this writer, I hope it is obvious that his opinion of what a hero is needs some realigning. While heroes experiencing real struggles help us relate to them, why should we expect our heroes to be more messed up than most of us? Do you normally contemplate suicide? I certainly don’t…and I am hardly convinced that the better hero is an individual that hates his life enough to wish for death, rather than an individual who values life enough to place ours as a premium.
These are my thoughts.
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