A Holiday Song?

A HOLIDAY SONG?

(by Mark Travis Riggs, with apologies to Rodgers & Hammerstein)

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens.

But for the mittens (used all winter long)

Why is this even a holiday song?

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels,

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles,

Brown paper packages (brown paper: wrong)...

Why is this even a holiday song?

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes,

Sleigh bells and snowflakes--okay, they belong,

But this still isn’t a holiday song.

Not to cause fights—I’m just seeing
If you think it’s bad.

When I hear this song at some holiday thing,

It makes me confused and mad.

Frost-painted windows, small sleigh bells on kittens,

Bright shiny ornaments, warm woolen mittens,

Tall evergreens covered in lights that blink:

This sounds like a Christmas song, don’t you think?

Crisp sugar cookies and butter cream icing,

Chocolate and mint smells you find so enticing,

Plate of those cookies with milk by the fire:

A Christmas song worthy of any choir.

Girls in green dresses with red velvet sashes,

Boot prints on floors, made from fireplace ashes,

Silver white wintertime Christmas Eve snow:

This is a song for a Christmastime show.

Sleigh bells, snowflakes, shoddy wrappings,

They just seem a tad

Ridiculous next to non-holiday things,

But this version makes me glad. 

Ten Years

I Don't Think About You Any More

by Mark Riggs

Except for when I hear something you've said

Repeated by some younger person who

Heard it spill off the play list in my head

(And of course that voice in there was you),

I don't think about you any more.

Except for when I'm making idle talk

With strangers I could easily pass by

Instead of just continuing my walk

(And in my head I know the reason why),

I don't think about you any more.

Except for when I make a young child grin

With ten piggies, and animals at fair,

And fore-bumper down to a chopping chin,

(And gitchee-goos that happen under there),

I don't think about you any more.

Except for when I laugh instead of cry,

Or kill someone with kindness when I'm mad,

Or consider the source so I know why,

(And "This world and one more," when I am sad),

I don't think about you any more.

Except for when I see the color red,

Except for when I sing some songs your way,

Except for in my dreams where you're not dead,

Except for first and last thoughts of the day,

I don't think about you any more.

So This Happened...

Ruth was driving the car. We were exiting from Highway 61 onto Highway 19 (southbound) just outside of New London. For a second I was reminded how it looked similar to turning from Public Street to Mason Street whenever we were heading home via the 4-way-stop in Center back in my high school days. I couldn't really describe why I was reminded by one of the other. I just sort of flashed onto it for a second.

I looked up through the sunroof and had a very strong feeling of déjà vu. I said to Ruth, "I've dreamt this before."

It was a lie. I knew it was a lie as soon as I said it, but I also knew that what I thought was going to happen next would really happen. I looked up through the sunroof again and said, "There's some sort of ship above those clouds."

Ruth simply replied, "Really?" I could tell by her tone and the way she simply kept driving that she didn't believe me.

I didn't know what to say back, so I just continued while staring up through the sunroof, "Yes, and the ship is going to start making some strange weather happen any second now."

I glanced at my sister and wasn't even sure if she was listening or had just fallen into some sort of road hypnotism from our long drive. I was leaning toward the latter, because she didn't seem to notice the two funnel clouds forming ahead of us.

"See," I said, "the weather is turning now."

As I watched, more funnel clouds appeared, and starting joining up to form a giant geometric figure. Not quite a dodecahedron, but something approaching it.

The clouds had moved down to the level of the ground, forming a sort of foggy mist just above the road. Ruth wasn't saying much, but she seemed to know when the curves were coming up. Most people who grew up in Center and had to make the trip to Hannibal often would probably have the feeling they could drive Highway 19 blindfolded, but I wouldn't recommend it.

I watched the strange geometric tornado phenomenon for a minute or so, getting extremely worried while my sister remained calm. A few of the funnels passed very near us. Since Ruth didn't seem to be too worried, I focused on the strange shape, suddenly remembering at one point to get my camera out and start taking pictures. After taking a few I lowered the camera from my eye and looked at the road in front of us again. What I saw and the fact I could no longer hear the wheels on the highway led me to get Ruth's attention. "You realize we're not actually on the road, right? One of those tornadoes must have picked us up. We may not even be in Ralls County right now."

I decided to use my camera's video function, because the odds of our landing safely seemed pretty slim. Ruth calmly asked what I thought we should do. I was reminded of the time she cut her hand while washing dishes, pulled the hand with a deep gash out of the water, and said something very calm like, "Well, that's not good." But I wasn't sure those were the exact words. To be fair, I had multiple tornadoes to worry about, so the exact words weren't so important at the time.

So I used the same tone of voice to say, "Well, I guess we use this recording to tell people we love that we love them, and whatever happens when we land happens."

Before we got very far in our recording, I could feel us descending, but slowly, like the air was supporting us from below. We landed on a blacktop somewhere, wheels still turning. Ruth slowed the car down as we approached a fenced-in area--fenced by the sort of wire fence in diamond shapes. A line of cars was slowly entering the fenced-in area as two men stood on either side of the large gate.

The line was moving slowly, so I got out to see if I could help. There was a car parked in the way of the line of cars, perpendicular to the cars trying to get in. I got in it and backed it up down a very thin stretch of land right beside the gate. The remaining cars were able to enter the gate, and people started heading toward the shelters nearby. As we closed the gate, I looked up at the strange geometric tornado, and again said, "There is a ship above the clouds. I know it."

The tornadoes calmed to nothing, and a perfectly circular hole opened up in the clouds. I opened up to a night sky, even though it was the middle of the day. At first I thought the moon was directly in the middle of this circle, but I soon realized it was the ship, farther away than it was when it started the tornadoes.

While we stared at it, what looked like a beam of grey light fell from it, but as it fell it looked more and more like the "pipes" screensaver from back in the day (but made of of grey pipes with cubes for junction boxes). The figure it made was similar to the figures the tornadoes made, but much more complex, and seeming to possibly involve more than just the normal set of dimensions.

Suddenly large and boxy "people" started exiting the strange geometric figure. Several people behind the fence turned and ran, afraid we were all in danger. I wasn't so sure. I didn't feel it was perfectly safe, but at the same time there wasn't a sign of hostility.

As I watched these figures--which reminded me of the Minecraft person, really--I don't play the game, but I've seen the "person" in it. As I was telling people to calm down, that maybe these things were not a threat to us, the boxy "creatures" opened up, and people not that dissimilar to human beings walked out.

They were taller than us, and wore strange clothes, but beyond that they were pretty much human-looking. They looked like very tall humans in these sort-of toga-like things.

We invited them in to the fenced-in area, and went to something that was more like an arena than a shelter--so I assumed the place had more than one purpose. One of them got up on a platform in the middle of the stadium and started speaking over a loudspeaker of some sort. They were explaining to us how they had travelled across the galaxy to come here. They wanted to help us. They were peaceful and benevolent. I was half listening to the speaker and walking around among the aliens to try to learn more about them. I mostly wanted to know for sure if they could be trusted, or if they were here to harm us and were just good liars.

I met one of the creatures, and he seemed nice enough. I think he thought I was odd because I kept staring at his eyes. They were normal enough, but just a slightly off color. But it wasn't the oddness I was looking at, but more like I was trying to see into his mind or soul to get a sense as to whether or not they could be trusted. He smiled the entire time, and backed up what was being said over the loudspeaker.

The second alien I met had two heads. They both seemed amiable enough, and smiled as we talked. I discussed how I assumed they had larger brains than us, since they were a bit taller than most humans, and that maybe this helped them figure out space travel. Of course, even as I said it I felt like a doofy middle-schooler trying to fit in with the high-school crowd. But he (they?) laughed, and grabbed me by the shoulders in a friendly way.

I remember grabbing his/their elbows to sort of communicate friendship as well, and thinking how they felt so similar to human arms--and I was reminded of my mom's arms for some reason. Probably because of this, I decided they could probably be trusted.

Still having no idea where we had landed from our tornado flight, but figuring I was still somewhere in Missouri, I wasn't surprised to run into Marissa and Hadleigh shortly after my meeting with the two-headed alien. I had not seen either of them for a while, and Hadleigh wanted to spend some time with me, so Marissa showed me where they were sitting, and said I could bring her back after we hung out for a while.

I got Hadleigh seated, and was going to sit down next to her when she decided to go exploring behind and under the seats. This arena was built somewhat like the bleachers at Mark Twain High, but slightly more complicated in that there were levels under the seats. They were like crawlspaces that allowed you to climb between levels as well as go back and forth under the seats.

So of course I chased her around, making a game of it. But I could tell her laughter was irritating the aliens in some way. I quickly climbed down a couple of levels to get her, and as we were coming back up toward the regular seat level, I could tell the mood had changed.

Humans were exiting the arena in a slightly-panicked way. I looked up to the ledge where the two-headed alien had been standing, and I saw people leaving by climbing up to that ledge and moving along toward an exit. The two-headed alien was still smiling at me, but it seemed strained or simply not genuine. I lifted Hadleigh up to the ledge and told her I would be climbing up right behind her.

However, it was a bit high for me to climb up, and as I was considering whether or not to go up the steps a bit and try there, I was over-run by the stream of people trying to get out. They seemed afraid of something, but I wasn't sure what. But the panic was catching, and I wasn't immune.

I fell down to the seats again, and before I could turn around and look up and tell Hadleigh I'd be right there, I saw her fall--apparently from the ledge--to a row or two behind me. In a panic, I climbed up one row and looked below those seats to see if she was okay.

It wasn't her. It was a poorly-made doll designed to look like her. It was made of old material and wasn't even stuffed. I felt maybe they had used some sort of high-tech illusion to get me to believe it was her. I was going to turn up to the two-headed alien and ask why he'd tried to trick me, but before I could I heard the alien voice on the loudspeaker: "We will not allow children on our planet!"

I started to yell for Hadleigh, because I knew they had to be taking her somewhere, and if she could hear me she would yell back. But my voice came out as a croak. My throat was suddenly dry, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get more than a hoarse "Hadleigh..." to come from my mouth.

I was reminded of the feeling of that alien's elbow's again, because they had felt so real, and so present. My voice felt exactly that same way: real and present.

I cried out for her again as I woke up, my throat dry, my voice only a whisper.

So I got a drink and went back to sleep and had a dream about being back in high school and playing on a baseball team. The end.

I've Been Wanting to Re-Read This for Years

So today I finally got my own copy of the autobiography Minority Report by Elmer Rice (published by William Heinemann Ltd, 1963). He's one of my favorite playwrights (my senior performance recital at Jewell was "The Adding Machine" (and I wish I could say I did it justice)). And if you want an older play that is very relevant to the way things are today, I suggest reading "We The People". And a huge dream of mine would be to direct (or at least design a set for) "Street Scene".

Anyway, years ago--seriously, like at least a few years before I turned 30--I read this autobiography. I came across something that struck me as so true and so important that I wished I wasn't reading a book checked out from the library, but instead was reading something I could keep and refer to forever. Unfortunately this was before lots of interwebness and the ability to make cool signage that would withstand the wear and tear of time within a pauper's budget.

I kept meaning to check it out from a library again, and make a copy of this section in particular, but I didn't. Mostly because I kept thinking I'd find it somewhere on the internet. And, alas, I also didn't memorize it, and I for sure didn't live by it.

Here it is, the entirety of section 4 of chapter XXII (the final chapter in the book):

"Even more essential to a man's conduct of life than his political and religious beliefs is his personal code of behavior. Here again I put the emphasis upon the personal because of my deep distrust of authoritarian moral prescriptions that are presumed to have universal applicability. Chief among these is the collection of precepts known as The Ten Commandments, generally ascribed to Moses, an obscure but articulate leader of antiquity; his attribution of their authorship to the Deity must surely be regarded as figurative. Though after twenty-five centuries they are still accepted by millions as a complete guide to correct living, it seems to me that even the most cursory examination of the Commandments reveals their inadequacy.

"Only two of the ten offer affirmative recommendations: the injunctions to Sabbath observance and to filial piety. The remaining eight merely state what is nonpermissible. Three of them deal with polytheism, idolatry and blasphemy, the remaining five with murder, adultery, theft, perjury or malicious gossip, and covetousness. In the main, it is a penal rather than a moral code. A man might rigorously obey all the Commandments and yet be a tyrant and a bully, a stingy and cruel husband, a neglectful father, a hardfisted employer, an ill-tempered neighbor, a loudmouthed opinionated boor, a social snob, a provocative chauvinist, a religious bigot and a malignant racist: in short, a despicable human being.

"Certainly I am not alone in believing that viability requires a more fecund soil than this stony bed of bleak negations. Or, to shift the metaphor, if the traffic is to move ahead there must be more green lights than red. I have never before tried to codify the principles of behavior that seem to me aids to constructive living. But since so many others have engaged in this innocent diversion, perhaps I too may be permitted to do so, preserving, of course, the classical decadal pattern. It should be noted that my code contains no absolutes, but merely suggests choices, and that since it is entirely personal, I am not proposing it for universal adoption. Here, then, is my decalogue:

"It is better to live than to die;
to love than to hate;
to create than to destroy;
to do something than to do nothing;
to be truthful than to lie;
to question than to accept;
to be strong than to be weak;
to hope than to despair;
to venture than to fear;
to be free than to be bound.

"However obvious and commonplace these tenets may seem, I can say unhesitatingly that if, throughout my life, I had used them as touchstones for my every thought, word and deed, I would be a better man than I am."

I have to give Mr. Rice a huge "Amen" on that last bit especially.

And maybe I should get back to writing more often.

I'm Just Sad and Confused

This was going to be a long status update on FaceBook. I opted to put it here, since it was long (and I wanted to add to it) and I haven't posted here in over a year.

So I had a friend when I lived in L.A. who I never really saw on the FaceBooks whenever I'd do a search for him. (I'd see lots of folks who shared his name, however.) And I occasionally would do a Google search for him, to no avail. I last communicated with him not long after I left L.A., just to get his address to mail him a phone he loaned me.

Apparently I haven't done one of those searches in the past 5 years or so. Today I hit the jackpot, but didn't win anything other than confusion and sadness. Apparently he had moved back across the pond.

And back in June of 2010 he killed his ex, his very young son, and himself. That's the theory deemed most likely, anyway.

He was my proofreader at the business card place where I worked the evening shift. He came to pick me up on his motorcycle when my car broke down very late at night on my way home from work (which would put the time at about 12:30 in the morning)--and it wasn't the least frightening of neighborhoods. (In the end, he didn't need to pick me up. A homeless man jerry-rigged my car so it would work, and this friend followed me home, pulling ahead of me and holding off traffic at red lights because if I stopped at a light my car would shut off, maybe for good.) He gave me rides to work on that same motorcycle while my car was being worked on, and he found a mechanic that would give me a good deal on a new engine when it turned out that's what my car needed.

He thought I smoked a lot of weed because of the way my mind worked. And he didn't get my joke about the sticker on his motorcycle helmet meaning he was a fan of "The Panda" (a wrestler I made up) in the World Wrestling Federation. And when I said I wanted "spicy giblets" from the gas station in downtown L.A. where people at work would occasionally send someone to get dinner, he thought I meant a chicken meal, and that's what he brought me. (I meant spicy trail mix, which I called "spicy giblets" for no particular reason. In his defense, it was an honest mistake.)

One time he told me I'd use odd expressions (which I'd learned my mom while I was growing up) that he'd heard while growing up in England (the northern part, if I'm remembering correctly).

I went to parties at his house. He and I saw "The Nightmare Before Christmas" in Culver City... and he tried to beat the parking garage bar as it lowered, and it hit me in my (thankfully) helmet-covered head. I really wish we had been able to keep in touch. He introduced me to Weetabix and pesto. He introduced me to "the stairs" in Santa Monica. He loaned me a bike to use to get there.

Sad and confused. That's what I am. Sad and confused.

That's E-nerd-tainment! (with apologies to Howard Dietz... and probably the rest of the universe)

A meme with a Battlestar theme

Or a cat wearing the Sorting Hat

Or a pic of the Hulk as St. Nick

That's e-nerd-tainment!

Fan fic, be it sloppy or slick

Be it short, or the babbling sort

Or the kind where you wish you were blind

That's e-nerd-tainment!

The plots involve 'bots, or a giant T-rex,

Takei-making-ray beamed out from Planet X,

Intergalactical sex,

Where a guy's his own grandfather, and causes timeline bother.

One scene posted at 2:13:

Aeryn Sun's wearing just three balloons

Quarter past, googol hits it's amassed

That's e-nerd-tainment!

It might be a fight about Leia and Luke

On boards seen by hoards, whether "meant to" or fluke

Both sides posted by the same kook

The title of the thread: "Worf, and How He Links to Red Dwarf"

Cosplay everywhere on display

Hot or cool, made by genius or fool

Hip hooray! Nerds are having their day!

The e-world's a stage, a stage for a world of e-nerd-tainment!


(c) 2014 Mark Travis Riggs


Edited 1/12/14 to change "Picard" to "the Hulk" and "2:15: The whole world's scene that scene" to "Quarter past, googol hits it's amassed" and "A gay" to "Takei". (The first and last because I wanted to include more "nerd" stuff, and the middle because I didn't like the original line much at all. Truth be told, I'm not a huge fan of the replacement. But it's always a work in progress, so who knows what tomorrow will bring?)

We Interrupt This Lengthy Blog Silence for the Following Moment of Simple Beauty

The sky above my house is very clear right now. I was just in the back yard, and I looked up to see a truly beautiful sight. All the leaves have vacated the trees in my yard and the surrounding ones, and the sky is so clear I can see more stars than I'm used to seeing in the city.

The view above me had a background of that deep-blue black which is the color of the darkest urban night sky possible without a power outage. The rest was either dark lines of naked trees or bright dots of light that started the journey here long before I was even thought of.

The stars were not only above the trees, but they were shining through them--since the leaves have all given up all of their summer duties, including the minor one of making stars have to work so much harder to accomplish this. I've only ever been able to pick out few constellations, but bits of Orion were recognizable through one tree (at least they were once I saw the rest of him poking out above the tree). I was struck by the simplicity of this beautiful scene.

It made me wish I had a better camera. It made me wish I knew how to take paints or charcoal or pencils or markers and re-create the memory of that sight.

But mostly it made me stand there longer than I probably should have, given the cold.

So I Won't Be Teaching This Year...

I've already messaged most of my co-workers via The Facebooks, although I haven't responded to many--maybe not any--of the responses yet, as my emotions about it are somewhat complicated.

But there it is: I'm not teaching next year.

I have been granted the opportunity to fulfill one of my dreams. (I have way too many dreams for me to accomplish in one life, which is probably a major reason why I don't pursue any of them that much... I should probably work on that.)

I'm going to miss a lot about teaching, and a lot about Eastgate, but this is a chance to do something that I've been dreaming about doing since... well, at least since I started teaching, but probably since I was in high school. It's scary, because pursuing a dream always is, but it's also very exciting.

The short version is: I'm helping to write an Algebra textbook. The long version is: too long for me to type right now. There aren't any huge fun secrets that are keeping me from explaining. I'm just lazy and in a bit of a hurry. Just know that it's a bit more involved than writing a textbook, and I'll say more about it in future posts, I'm sure.

Yes, it's been over a year since I've written. I apologize. I know the world has been a much more bleak place without my typo-ridden and poorly-punctuated stream-of-apparent-total-lack-of-consciousness ramblings. I shall endeavor to post more frequently.

But back on topic: one of the things I'm going to miss the most at Eastgate is having so many friends in one place. All the teachers, instructional assistants, cafeteria workers, custodial workers, administrative assistants, the library staff, and whatever co-workers I'm inadvertently leaving off here... I'm going to miss working with them and seeing them daily.

I'm also going to miss the kids. While a middle-school-aged child can go from zero to bouncing off the walls then back down below zero to "moody and sullen" and so forth in the course of the first five minutes of class, I have still enjoyed teaching them, attempting to teach them, and generally entertaining them when nothing else seemed to be happening.

However, all of the sad aspects are balanced by the joy I'm feeling about trying something I've always wanted to do.

Plus, I won't have to get up as early every day!

I Sliced My Thumb (the Long-Awaited Details (for a Set Definition of "Long Awaited"))

Finally, the long-awaited tale of how I sliced my thumb last week!
(Yes, only a couple of people have asked how it happened, but I think that sentence will help make people think I'm about to say something interesting and relevant to them. Suckers!)

So last Sunday Cody woke me up to see if I'd watch Hads and let Marissa get some more sleep. I'm all about watching Hads, so I was all about letting Marissa get some more sleep. They two of them had been doing a lot of work helping Cody's mom out the night before, so we can pretend I was being more benevolent that selfish we like.

I was going to need to feed Hads at 11:00 or so, so somewhere around 9:15 or 9:30, I decided to make sure there were plenty of clean bottles.

I got to the sink and realized the knives I'd re-washed with the intention of drying before spots could form on them had fallen into the "Oops, guess what I forgot to do" black hole. I picked up one of the knives and ran my thumb along the side hoping I could just rub away the spots.

Swipe one, completely safe and away from the sharp edge.

Swipe two, just as safe and away.

Just before swipe three, I distracted myself by realizing I was probably going to have to wash the knives again, and therefore didn't pay as much attention to where my thumb was.

The result: Marissa didn't get to sleep in. She watched Hads, I drove myself to the emergency room, and now I have five stitches in my thumb.

I refuse to post the picture I sent to Say for her opinion, but if you're friends with me on Facebook, she posted it there and tagged me--I'm sure you've already seen it and almost lost your lunch if you are in the aforementioned category. But here's the "after" picture. Hope it doesn't gross you out! Enjoy!

Well, 2011, I Think You Should Go. Now.

It wasn't that bad of a year. The past 6 months have been a bit of a joy, and there are lots of things I wish I had done differently... but what year isn't like that, eh?

I'll just be glad to see this one go. I was already not thrilled to death with it, but now it's just... I don't know. I'm just over everything, the bulk of the everything being me and what passes for a mind in my head.

There were a couple of paragraphs here. I deleted them. Suffice it to say today turned into a bad day, but I've decided not to go on about it here just yet. The short version is: I'm a f***ing idiot.

Anyway, Happy New Year, everybody. It'll be better next year. Maybe not tomorrow, but... at some point next year, it will be better.

Right?

Say

I was just thinking today that I may have never shared the story of my sister's nickname, Say (she actually has more than one nickname, but this one I'm responsible for).

When I was but a toddler, my sister took me everywhere with her. I was around her a lot, especially when Mom was in the hospital giving birth to Dane with I was almost 18 months old.

I think it was when Mom returned from the hospital and I was given to her that I looked around and said, "Where say go?"

Mom was baffled. Everyone else in the room was baffled, I assume... assuming others were in the room, and it seems like Mom mentioned there were others, but I have no idea who they might have been. Nobody knew what I was talking about, even though I asked at least one other time, "Where say go?"

It wasn't until my sister walked in and I exclaimed, "There say is!" they realized I was referring to my sister Lynne (called Rusty at the time) as "Say".

And it stuck. The end.

Well, that and the fact I can't ask where my sister has gone off to without thinking of that story... mainly because I always word it as, "Where Say go?"

And yes, upon her return, I say, "There Say is!"

"Mom, You Ignorant Slut" (A Belated Mother's Day Memory of My Mother)

This is not a story about my mother as much as it is a story about the complete and total ignorance of youth.

It was the late 70s. I was in either late elementary school or about to enter Junior High. Saturday Night Live was mostly the original cast, and I tried to watch it when I could--just because it was so "adult".

For some reason, Mom and I were standing pretty close, face-to-face. She might even have just gotten a hug from me. I have no idea. I just remember we were face-to-face. Wanting to say something funny to her, I flashed on this little tidbit from the Weekend Update part of SNL:

"Yes," thought my young and ignorant mind, "That's funny."

I looked her in the eyes and said, "Mom, you ignorant slut."

I remember she was smiling at the time. You know how things go to slow motion in your mind in a life-or-death kind of situation?

Oh yeah, totally there.

Her face started to cloud over (in slow motion--or that's how I remembered it later, of course), and I could see something was very wrong.

I blurted out as fast as I could and in a very panicked voice, "I don't know what it means! I don't know what it means!"

Yes, my quick thinking saved my life that day. I was instructed that if I don't know what a word means, perhaps I shouldn't use it. (Never mind that I had a good idea of what "ignorant" meant, but still used it.) I was, however, allowed to live.

That's one of my favorite stories to tell about my own ignorance--not just because it shows how ignorant I have been in the past (and thus may be in the future), but it's apparently crazy funny--at least Brenda seems to enjoy the story... and I enjoy that she enjoys it.

I Know You Aren't Keeping Score, But...

I'm trying really hard to average a post a day on here. I'm behind by one at the moment, and it's making me crazy.

Okay, crazier. Or more crazy. Whatever. I teach math.

Anyway, I keep meaning to post things in the morning and then again in the evening, so I can get caught up... but then the time comes in the morning and I'm either running behind or have even less to say than I usually do (because I thought about typing "or I have nothing to say," and realized that's the norm on here anyway) in the morning... or if I get something posted in the morning, I don't get around to it in the evening.

Again, not that anyone is keeping score. It's just a goofy rule I've made up in my head.

Like the one I had as a kid about turning on the bathroom light before I stepped into the bathroom--otherwise something "bad" would happen. I'm not sure what... monsters attacking, maybe?

I had another rule about the sleeping bag I used to sleep in. If my foot went out the hole in the bottom, it would be chopped off.

Now my rules have no dire consequences. They're just goofy rules I try to non-blog by. I suppose my brain likes a challenge, but it terrible at rising to one.

Anyway, here's a non-blog post for today... just me, rambling about how I never get around to writing like I want to.

Next up: me rambling about how I never learned to play the piano. Or something.

Goodness Sakes! Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally!

This is old news to my friends on Facebook, but yesterday morning my status was asking non-math folks what was confusing about the order of operations.

(Warning: Math review)

For those who don't remember, that's:
1. Operations inside grouping symbols
2. Exponents
3. Multiplication and division
4. Addition and subtraction

(That's the super-simplified version, which is as complicated as we get in 7th grade.)

I have kids who seem to be struggling with it (confirmed by the quiz results yesterday, by the way), and this is one place where I'm at a loss as to how it is confusing or difficult.

Fractions, I get. I remember what confused me about fractions. That memory serves as a nice jumping-off point for finding other ways working with fractions might be confusing or difficult. Decimals, long division, even multiple-digit whole number multiplication. Yes, I get it.

Heck, I can even related to that panic one might feel when asked "What's 6 times 7?"

But the Order of Operations? C'mon! What's difficult about it?

There had to be an answer, of course, as I have so many kids who struggled on a quiz where the only steps needed were the last two (multiplication/division and addition/subtraction). I tried to take math fact fear out of the equation by making the first four problems along the lines of 3 + 2 x 5... I mean, who doesn't know 2 x 5 (or even 5 x 5, should you not remember to do the multiplication first)? Who doesn't know 3 + 10 (or 3 + 2, should you think the addition goes first)?

So the cool thing is this: lots of help from the Facebook friends.

The first was a reminder that some students are going to be freaking out about the arithmetic involved, no matter how simple it might be.

The next was the confusion as to why the Order of Operations exists--when you're working with one operation, you just go from left to right, and you don't even have to worry about that when working with addition and multiplication.

Exponents in the presence of parenthesis can be confusing--which is something I can keep in mind as we delve deeper into the whole Order of Operations thing.

A couple of people gave ideas as to how to make it "easier to remember" or "easier to understand" beyond the whole mnemonic device I used as the title of this post (although usually it's "Please Excused My Dear Aunt Sally," but as students get older some people change "Parenthesis" to "Grouping Symbols").

And one math-phobe expressed she found the Order of Operations easy to understand (comforting, even), because it was a simple list.

Oh, and lots of funny comments from my non-math friends, too.

So I think I have found a new way to irritate my Facebook friends and also get some insight into what's confusing or difficult for my kids--I mean, I have an imagination, and I do use that to figure out where the kids might get confused. However, extra brains on the task can't be a bad thing, right?

Anybody Want to Research for Me?

So I was thinking about writing on a few topics, share a few stories, and so on... But I'm getting the feeling I've written on them at some point or another, and I don't want to show my Alzheimer's hand this early in the game.

Therefore, if anyone would like to do some research for me, do me a favor and go back and see if I've written on any of these topics:

1. My guardian angel story
2. The time Scott and I almost hopped on a train just to get away from our lives in Ralls County
3. The time I "got lost" at the mall in Omaha
4. My high-school obsession with iguanas
5. The time I spent the night in the theatre at Jewell, just to see if I saw Mona, the ghost that haunted the place
6. My wreck one month after I turned 16, the blackout, and the flashbacks
7. States I've travelled to and/or through

Yeah, that will give me some "on deck" topics for when I've run out of nothing to say.

(That is, if I haven't already written on all those topics...)

Okay, get researching!

The Tale of My First (and Only) School Paddling...

I was a joy as a student in 8th grade. I'm sure of this. I'm sure Mr. Carrol (Carroll? Caroll? Carol? Whatever.) thought I was his best students ever! Of course, he was a coach, so I wasn't too concerned with what he thought. That's how I rolled in grade 8, peeps.

It was in his Social Studies class, however that I had to take a geography test in which you identified (and spelled correctly) major U.S. cities. I can't remember how many there were. I just knew if I needed one, I could find one on a map (or, as it turns out, go to mapquest), so I did not feel this was information that needed to be taking up space in my head.

Everyone who did poorly had to write the cities they missed twenty-five times each.

Seriously.

This, of course, meant war.

So I wrote them out, and then cut the cities up so that I had a lot of little slips of paper with a city name written on it once. I'm pretty sure there were close to 1000 little strips of paper.

Mr. C. took me to the office to see Mr. Ray. In a wonderful Malaprop moment, Mr. Ray responded to my claims that I did the assignment as instructed (I just went above and beyond the call, right?) by saying, "The assignment was to write the cities twenty-five times each, not make graffiti."

After a pause, Mr. C. quietly said, "Confetti."

What 8th grade kid wouldn't love that moment, right? However, I had the sense not to crack up laughing. I have no idea who I borrowed it from and if I returned it promptly.

I was put into the conference room with the slips of paper and some tape, and told I would have it all taped back together by the next day, or I'd get a paddling. It was toward the end of the day anyway, so I taped some up, then took the paper bag containing my "graffiti" on the bus with me at the end of the day.

This kid who was two years older than me grabbed the bag and said, "What would you do if I threw this out the window?"

I shrugged and said, "Nothing."

Out the window it went.

Turns out, being bullied by an older kid who--despite my pleas to not throw my precious project out the window--threw my beloved project out the window anyway does not equate to any sort of sympathy in this situation (actually, I didn't even play it off that way... I just said, "This older kid threw it out the window.").

And so I got the paddle.

I remember it hurt right then, but by the time I got back to class, it was fine.

The important part was: I didn't have to tape up those stupid little slips!

Remembering Eighteen

Yes, I remember a lot of being 18. I remember having to register for the draft. I remember not feeling any different than I did the day before.

I didn't smoke, so being old enough to buy cigarettes was no big deal. I remember being excited I could vote, but we had a presidential election the November before, so it would be a while before I got to vote for a president.

I've said several times over the past week or so that I could never survive being a parent. I think having a kid turn 18 would be the worst of all. Where did the kid go? (Well, speaking from experience, I know the kid is still in there somewhere, just under the surface, usually. Or that's the case in the darkness behind my eyes.)

Cody turned 18 this week. Jordan turns 18 in just a little over 20 months. It's just strange.

Now begins the string of graduation ceremonies... And then I guess the nearest nursing home after all that's over, eh?

Anyway, back to school tomorrow to prepare more kids for 8th grade and beyond. Gives me something to do while all these kids I know are growing up!

Not Like I Ever Have Anything to Say, but...

I'm going to try to post twice today, as I was so beat last night from travels, unpacking, gift-giving, and grocery-shopping... and cooking dinner...

Where was I?

Oh yeah, I was so beat, I didn't get any blog-posting done. I watched Groundhog Day (or most of it), and decided to just call it a night.

I guess I'm strange (or not in the majority, anyway), but I enjoy snow. I'm a little sad I wasn't here for the snowfall. Snowfall is to my eyes what wind is to my ears and skin. I love a windy day. I find it very calming to hear the wind rushing around my ears and feeling it move over me. Snowfall does the same thing. I could sit in the chair by my front window and watch it snowing for hours if I wasn't so worried the neighbors would mistake me for dead and call an ambulance.

Maybe I'll make a snowman today. Most likely not, but I haven't made one (or a snow angel, for that matter ) for a while, and it's about time. I need to do something to make up for missing that snowfall!

The flight back was uneventful. Didn't say much at all to the guy next to me. Was that rude of both of us? Probably, but I think I irritated the guy next to me on the way there (the guy on the other side of me on the way their didn't say a word, and I returned the favor... and on the way back, I was on the emergency exit row, so there was no seat between me and the window)... so I didn't think it would be a good idea to talk.

And I'm so confused about the use of cell phones (or whatever the best term for them would be) on the plane. I didn't hear them say it was safe to use them on the first flight, but people with me said they did. Then on the flight back, I for sure heard them say to not turn them back on at all (unless in airplane mode, which is a complete freakin' mystery to me on this new phone--a search for "airplane mode" in help gets me nothing at all). So did my group mis-hear the Chantho-voiced (or Diagnosan-voiced) steward one of the many times she spoke over the speaker during that first flight, or does the phone thing vary from plane type to plane type? Whatever, I don't know that I'll be flying again for a while, anyway.

Anyway, I'm home, there's snow, and the kids didn't have school one of the days I was gone. This means my plans for Monday are all prepared already! Hooray!

I Could Live Here...

I finally got to drive down the 10 today. I haven't been on that interstate since... 1994, maybe?

I noticed as I drove to visit Kathy that I could live here. It's beautiful. There are mountains, and that sort of deserted beauty that a desert seems to have. Where Kathy lives, you can see crazy numbers of stars. And the weather kicks butt.

Thing is, there are lots of beautiful places I could live.

Colorado. Now that's beautiful. I could live there for sure.

California: also beautiful. Seeing the ocean put my mind in such a good place back when I lived there in 1993 and 1994. I could use that sort of calm mind on a regular basis.

Germany... it's been years since I've been there (December of 1987 and January of 1988), but from what I remember, plenty of beautiful stuff.

Sydney: Also plenty of beauty. The nearby Blue Mountains were also very beautiful.

London and other bits of England: loved them. Could easily live there.

Heck, I even found beauty in New York City. Not a traditional and natural beauty, mind you, but more of a beauty that comes from the sheer life force of a place.

So the big question in my mind is this: Why don't I notice the beauty around me back home?

The follow-up question in my mind is this: What do you mean you don't notice the beauty around you back home? What do you think taking a picture a day is all about?

The follow-up statement to that follow-up question is: Okay, that was two questions. Two questions can't be a follow-up question. That's a follow-up question with a follow-the-follow-up-question question.

And the follow up statement to that follow-up statement is: Yeah, whatever. You still understood my point, right?

And from there: What do you mean? I am you!

And finally: Would you both just shut up so I can get back to the point?

My point is, familiarity may not breed contempt, but it does breed a kind of laissez-faire attitude about having an opinion one way or the other about the view.

But Arizona is really kinda beautiful. That was my original point. Kyrie might not appreciate how I took it down the road instead of around the block, but I made it back with it, didn't I?

I Really Love to Teach

No irony intended in that title. I enjoy teaching. I enjoy finding new ways to reach students. I love thinking of ways to help students. I become frustrated with myself when students aren't "getting it" (although I still spend a few moments being frustrated with them, I should admit). I really do love to teach.

This summit I'm at is giving me all sorts of great ideas--and it seems to be saying a lot of things I've "felt" all along, but they're backing it up with actual research.

I really stink at sifting through research, I should say.

Anyway, I'm excited, and I have all these ideas, and I wish I could start work on some of my ideas tomorrow. I can't. But I want to.

If 80-and-out stays in place, this semester is the first semester of the last half of my teaching career (assuming I leave at the end of the school year I become eligible to leave... which I plan to do, because I love to teach, but the b.s. is just too much most days). So I may be halfway through. That seems odd.

But I want to make this last half way better than the first half--I mean I want to be a better teacher. I want to help more kids find success is math (or whatever I teach in the next 12.5 years).

All this to say I'm excited about this summit. Maybe it'll all blow up in my face and I'll be all resentful that I was ever excited about it, but right now, I'm hopeful.

So let me have this, people.