High School Memories

When we grew up and went to school, there were certain teachers who would hurt the children in any way they could.

By pouring their derision upon anything we did, exposing every weakness however carefully hidden by the kids.

But in the town, it was well known that when they got home at night, their fat and psychopathic wives would thrash them within inches of their lives.


During my senior year of high school, I walked into a classroom one morning and saw those words written on the blackboard.

I knew exactly what I was reading. They are lyrics from a Pink Floyd song on the classic double album, The Wall. (And yes, when The Wall was originally released in 1979 and available at Turtles or Peaches or The Record Bar, it was a double album that one played at 33 RPM on a turntable.) By the time I was a senior in high school though, it was available on the space-age Compact Disc format.

There were 2 things that I found very amusing about this display. First was the classroom in which the lyrics had been posted. During my senior year, I took a class called "Contemporary Affairs." Our text was Time Magazine. The teacher was also the woman who taught AP U.S. History -- which I took because I was/am a dork and I really liked history. So I was familiar with this woman's teaching style. She was a good teacher on some levels, but she also had an inflated sense of her abilities and/or stature in the high school education community. People who take AP courses tend toward the overachieving side of things. She seemed to prefer teaching the AP kids. Why? I don't know. But the students who took the Contemporary Affairs class included folks who didn't necessarily take the AP courses. This particular teacher seemed to take that opportunity to demean and mock some of the ideas and comments from those students. The assumption seemed to be that if the students didn't take AP U.S. History, they didn't take their education seriously and held opinions that didn't merit consideration. (This is where we could've used Uncle Buck to come in and fight for all of the so-called silly-hearts. See below.) So you can imagine how a student who was not used to this teacher's demanding -- and sometimes unreasonably demanding -- nature might react.

The second thing that I found amusing was that I recognized the handwriting of the person who wrote the lyrics on the board. This was funny because the teacher was not happy -- at all -- about the public embarrassment. I did not feel particularly sorry for the teacher because she had sort of made her bed. Karma is a . . . .

I don't believe that the teacher ever learned who wrote the lyrics on her blackboard -- which to high school students only enhanced our enjoyment. One person had the guts to write the lyrics, but we all felt like we got away with it because we all identified with those lyrics on some level. I think it goes without saying that high school students overdramatize the things that happen to them, but that doesn't mean the emotions are any less real to them and it doesn't give people like teachers license to ridicule them or their evolving positions on issues and understanding of the world around them.

And if they do ridicule, they may get some rebellious graffiti which hopefully shines a light on their psychotic instructional techniques.



Oh yea, the name of the Pink Floyd song is The Happiest Days of Our Lives.



How hilarious is that?



Uncle Melanoma Head

Under the wire

Today was a busy day. My mind is a little frazzled. And it's only Tuesday. Sheesh.

I think it all goes back to that extra hour of sleep that I didn't utilize Saturday night.

Given my exhausted state, there's a good chance for gibberish.

Dyson -- that dude's a little creepy with the overdramatic way he talks about his allegedly state-of-the-art vaccuum. He's like some IKEA-ized version of J. Peterman. Does the world really need a cutting edge vaccuum?

And I noticed Mr. Dyson developed a new obsession about those air dryers that gas stations use because they are too lazy to buy paper towels and/or get up from behind the counter and add more paper towels to the dispenser (all under the guise that "it's better for the environment" not to "waste" all those paper towels). Dyson claims he was tired of everyone's tendency to use those dryers and then wipe their hands on their pants anyway because of the inefficient way blowing hot air eliminates water from one's hands. Yea, like there was nothing else he could spend his time and money on.

OK, my brain is mush. Too bad there's no Dyson product for that.

More about me

Back in July, my firm asked all of the associates to take a behavioral assessment that was supposed to measure how we operate at work. (Aside: I highly recommend the CD How We Operate by the band Gomez. You can check out a tune from that CD on the playlist that runs on my blog.) I have a master’s degree in counseling psychology, so I am very familiar with a variety of psychological and behavioral assessments. One thing that they all have in common is that the results depend on the truthful responses of the one completing the assessment. For that reason, many tests of this sort include built-in measures for untruthfulness or inconsistent responses. At the presentation of the results today, I heard no information concerning any measure to double-check for such responses. (I’m not saying that the people I work with would lie on an assessment like this, but I think some naturally might try to respond to the questions in a way that they think the partnership wants to hear – to present themselves in a way that might get the partnership to look more favorably at them. I don’t think that would be surprising to anyone – many people want to please their employers.)

So anyway, I know all of you are curious to know how I came out on this test given my past performance on that internet personality test. There really were no surprises here to me, but you may find some off the summary information humorous. Of course, if my neuroses can bring a smile to your face, far be it from me to take from you such joy.

1) Openly challenges world around him.

2) Impatient for results . . . and is far less productive when doing routine work.

3) Private.

4) Communication is direct, to the point, and sometimes brusque. (That one made me chuckle. It's funny because it's true.)

5) Little interest in small talk.

So now you know a little more about me. Just remember that this is supposed to represent how I behave in the workplace. So any of you on the Scotland trip, don't fret.

Sun-Day-in-the-life

I do this just about every year. I lose the advantage that Congress so nicely bestows on us each fall. As you know, the transition from Daylight Saving Time to Standard Time gives us an extra hour of sleep. But every year, I simply use it as an excuse to stay up later. Last night, I stayed up to watch the end of the Arkansas-South Carolina game (the Ole Ball Coach's defense couldn't stop the stellar Razorback running duo). Then I watched Lou Holtz spit all over Mark May on ESPN's college football recap show. Then I flipped channels for 30-45 minutes before concluding that nothing was on, so I went to bed.

This morning, I awoke to Keegan yelling from his crib. He's not saying anything specific, but you can tell from his tone that it's something like (Hey, Mom and Dad -- I don't care which one of you -- but one of you needs to get your lazy butt out of bed and get me out of here so I can start my day. I have things to do. Milk to drink. Pages to scribble on. Marbles to play with.) This morning, Jen answered the bell because she is a great mom and she had been the wiser of this pair and went to bed at a reasonable hour so she could take full advantage of the extra hour of sleep.

I got up at the usual hour on Sunday morning. Keegan's internal clock got him up a little early given the move to standard time. After showering, I went downstairs and was welcomed to the morning by the children's songstress, Laurie Berkner. She wasn't actually in my living room. But her CD was playing for Keegan. K-Man loves this lady's CDs. Jen and I wouldn't mind if Ms. Berkner announced her retirement never to be heard from again -- Garth Brooks style.

Given Keegan's early rising, Jen decided to let him nap right about the time we would've left to go to church. So I went to church alone, and Jen stayed behind while Keegan napped. I think Jen enjoyed the quiet time alone at home while Keegan slept. Good message out of Galatians this morning. When I got back home, Keegan was still sleeping. Today was a Falcons home game, so once Keegan got up, we piled into the car and headed downtown. (I know that was a run-on sentence, but this isn't Mrs. Ferris' 7th grade English class, so pipe down.)

We park for Falcons games at the parking deck that I use for work. I am cheap. Why pay $20 for parking when I have a parking pass for my deck that I can use even if we have to walk a little farther? Don't answer that. So we park and start our trek towards the Dome. We alternate carrying Keegan and letting him walk. He loves seeing all the traffic lights up close as we walk. Eventually, we make it to the game. We buy incredibly overpriced cheeseburgers (which I justify because I saved all that money not paying for parking!!) and make our way to our seats. Upper deck end zone. Keegan helps Jen with her burger. Then I get some popcorn for Kee because I think it will occupy him and prolong our stay at the game (which I think going in the Falcons have a chance to win). K-Man liked the popcorn. He also monopolized the Sprite that Jen bought. (I know what you're thinking, but I saved so much money not paying for parking.) None of this matters as long as Kee stays relatively calm and watches the game or the lights or the Chick-Fil-A cows that periodically parachute from the rafters. We were golden until half-time. Something clicked. Not in a good way either. It's like that sound you hear right before the head cracks on your '88 Hyundai hatchback on I-85 in North Carolina. When you hear the sound, it's too late. So we saw the first half of the Falcons game today, and they were winning when we left. (And they held on for the W too as I suspected they would.)

When we got home, Keegan went down for another nap, but I don't think he actually slept at all. Of course he didn't.

I watched a good chunk of the Colts-Patriots game -- well it was on in the background while I played with Keegan. Good game. I thought the Colts had the win. Surprised that Peyton didn't put together the final drive (reminded me of his days at UT when he never beat UF). Speaking of the NFL, how in the world are the Packers 7-1?

Tonight was fairly laid back. Jen made a nice batch of sausage and rice for dinner. No sausage for Keegan though. He got a hot dog with his rice. No need to fuel a diaper failure. Simple meal but hearty.

Now we're trying to squeeze out another couple of hours off relaxation before another week starts. I find it very hard to enjoy the rest of Sunday because I get too concerned with the forthcoming Monday to Friday. Jen calls it being in "work mode." That is not a term of endearment either. And it has nothing to do with "Business Time."

Well, I'm going to call it a night. I'm quite sleepy. What with not getting my extra hour of sleep and all.

Friday Night Lights

Last night, Jen went to hang out with a friend of hers. So Keegan and I ate dinner together. “Dinner” may be a misnomer really. When I got home from work, K-Man was working on a lollipop. What a cool mom!! How many moms let their kids enjoy a sucker as an appetizer? Uh, one? Jen was cutting up some sweet potato slices that she planned to bake for Keegan’s dinner. (Yea, I thought the same thing.) Jen took off leaving me with the task of trying to convince Kee that baked sweet potato slices are yummy. Doubting that myself, I started by spreading some butter on a few of the slices. Then I cut them up into K-Man-sized pieces. The first bite went down fine. The first of most things go down OK. Not the second one. But it did go down even if Keegan contorted his face like he had sucked on a sweaty tube sock. The third one was a no go.

Plan B. Hot dog. Washed down with a glass of milk. Whole milk too. Not that milk-flavored skim stuff. So in the end, Kee had a square meal: meat, milk, veggies and sugar. We skipped the candy corn.

When Keegan went to bed, I watched a show that I have really enjoyed over the last year. Friday Night Lights. I think what interests me the most about the show is the coach . . . and the coaching. The coach character on the show really cares about the kids he’s coaching (incidentally, the coach is played by the same explosives guy who got blown up on Grey’s Anatomy a couple of seasons ago). He wants to win. And he faces the challenges of running a football program in Texas where the expectations are high and the temptations to cut corners are great. He’s not perfect, but he tries to do the right things. The one thing that I have learned from the show is that I’m glad that I don’t have a daughter. The coach on the show has a 16-year-old daughter who is pushing her parents’ limits at every turn. No thanks. I don’t want any part of that. I’ll stick with raising a boy.

But as I said, I also like the coaching. Trying to figure out how to reach different players to get them to perform. If I could, I would love a job coaching. When I watch a show like this or a movie like Hoosiers, I get lost in the idea of coaching. A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to scout a high school player for the women’s soccer team at Asbury. One of the parents noticed what I was doing, called me “coach” and asked me if I wanted to see a roster of the club’s players. Jen asked me if I liked being referred to as “coach.” She knew the answer without asking. I look forward to getting the chance to coach Keegan’s teams – whatever sports he chooses to play.

Well, it’s time to turn on the Arsenal v. Manchester United match. For those of you who are not familiar, this match in England is bigger than Sunday’s NFL game between the Colts and the Patriots. Here’s to a ManU 2-0 win.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose!

Alpha

Ironically, I am entitling my second NaBloPoMo entry "Alpha." It's ironical because alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet. That is one of the few things I remember from the three quarters of Greek that I took during my sophomore year of college. Yea I know, who takes Greek? After that one year, not me. But my future wife was in that class too -- although that's not why I took it. Frankly, I don't recall why I signed up for that class. Fritchman was in that class too. But none of us were in there after that first year. I moved on to French, and Jen took Spanish. Not sure what Mark did about the foreign language requirement.

But I digress.

A few years ago, our church started offering a program called the Alpha course. The course was written by Nicky Gumbel who is the Vicar at Holy Trinity Brompton in London. Gumbel is a former barrister, so I identified with him right off the bat. Depending on how you run the course, Alpha is a 10-week course that includes a 30-45-minute message each week presented by Gumbel. The course offers people a chance to explore the Christian faith regardless of their religious background or relative inexperience with or hostility towards the Christian church. The course progresses through a series of topics designed to explore the meaning of life and learn more about the Christian faith. We offer dinner, dessert and childcare for the participants. The evening usually progresses as follows: welcome, dinner, music, video, dessert and discussion.

The first time that our church offered the course, I signed up as a small group leader. The SGL is tasked with facilitating discussion about the week's video. And by "facilitating discussion" I don't mean correcting what I might think are people's misconceptions about God or Christianity. I encouraged people to be completely honest about where they were. If they thought Christianity was irrelevant in today's world, I wanted them to shout it from the rooftops. If they were mad at God, admit it. God can handle that. If they'd been hurt by a church leader in the past, I apologized for that but encouraged them to take a fresh look at things now that they were in a different place in their lives. The great thing is that when you give people the freedom to unpack their thoughts and feelings about the church or Christianity in a place where they are safe from judgment, they'll dig in and really explore. I always considered it a privilege to get a front row seat to watch people walk this journey for the 10 or so weeks I met with them. Some made serious changes in their lives in that short span of time. Others simply started on the journey again. But both were affected. And I enjoyed being a part of it all. If you get the chance to be a part of an Alpha course, I would strongly encourage you to participate or lead a table.

But one request: if you have been an active member of a church for a long time and maybe even took part in an evangelism training course like Evangelism Explosion or something similar, please leave whatever you learned there at home when participating in the Alpha course. Alpha is not designed or intended to be a place where believers can have a captive audience of unbelievers or new believers and commence firing the proverbial fish in the barrel. I cannot tell you how many times tables at Alpha have been short-circuited because one or two participants think this is the opportunity to share the Four Spiritual Laws with all the non-believers at the table or to quote Scripture or talk about the God-shaped hole they had before they met the Lord. All of that breaks down the atmosphere of trust that the SGLs are trying to develop around the tables. When a participant shares his or her doubts about God, Jesus or the Bible and is immediately met with a barrage of memorized verses or a diatribe about the inerrancy of the Bible, you've lost that participant. At best, you've set the table back because the table moves forward only as fast as the slowest member. As I see it, the Alpha course is about fostering an opportunity for seeking. Most importantly for individuals to explore for themselves and come to their own conclusions. If you don't think you can submit to those general rules, please don't participate. (Disclaimer: This is my personal opinion! I am not a spokesperson for my or any other church or the Alpha course itself. If you have a beef with the preceding paragraph, you have a beef with me; not my church or the Alpha course. I'm just saying.)

Funny story about the current Alpha course that our church is offering. (Not funny "ha ha." More like "funny how you averted that potential disaster.") About six or seven weeks into the course, we offer a weekend get-together. In the past, we've reserved cabins at a nearby park and had an Alpha Weekend Away where we offer a few of the Alpha messages in a day and a half and play and fellowship and eat. This year, we decided to hold the Alpha Weekend at the church. It gave us a chance to offer childcare which we couldn't offer at the cabins. On Saturday, we decided as part of the weekend that we would have a huge tailgate in the church parking lot. Each table had a theme for the weekend, and their tailgates were extensions of that. People set up all sorts of tailgates. The best tailgate -- as voted on by an esteemed panel of the Alpha leadership -- was a table that brought out a couch, a dinette set and a big screen TV among other things. At lunchtime, the parking lot was awash in the aromas of grilling burgers, dogs and brats.

Towards the end of the morning video on Saturday, I see a guy in the parking lot. He's with our group. He appeared to be setting up some of his table's tailgate stuff. I couldn't see exactly what he was doing because he was obstructed by a truck in between me and him. About 15-20 minutes later, after the video is done and the tables have split off around the church building to pray in groups, I was talking to Caroline and looking out the window, noticed a flame peeking up over that truck bed that had been obstructing my earlier view. I may have blinked twice. In that span, the flame shot up about 15 feet -- as tall as the tree that was next to the truck. And then billowing thick black smoke shot up as well. I ran outside to see what exactly was on fire. Turns out the guy had decided to start up his deep fryer and then left it unattended and went back inside. When I turned the corner of the truck, the fryer was fully engulfed. Did I mention it was attached to a propane tank? And there was a back-up tank sitting about 3 feet away. The black smoke? That was the rear tire in flame. The back end of the truck above the tire was aflame as well. The fire was on the side of the truck where the owner inserts the hose at the gas station, so my immediate concerns were not only exploding propane tanks but an exploding full-size pick-up. So I ran inside to call 911 and three guys grabbed some extinguishers. The three volunteer firefighters successfully put out the flames. I didn't think they had a chance frankly. Just as they put out the flames, the rear tire blew. From where I was standing, I thought it was the propane tank. I relayed that info to the 911 operator. The concussion knocked back one of the guys with the extinguishers; he also had some trouble hearing out of the ear on that side of his head. When the tire blew, it knocked over the deep fryer and the pot of grease. Thankfully, the fire was out, so it wasn't a flaming pot of grease like some medieval weapon. About 10 minutes after I called 911, and well after the fire was out, the fire department showed up to survey the damage.

At the final session later in the afternoon, one of our pastors, JM's Dad, introduced the last video. Welcoming everyone back, he said that he'd talked to the prayer team and asked them when they pray for the Lord to bring His fire that they be more specific next time. Bellowing laughter ensued. I couldn't see the truck owner to gauge his reaction.

National Blog Posting Month

And so it begins. I have signed on to write every day this month. I have no idea what I am going to say every day. Or any day for that matter. I have not been stockpiling ideas for the last couple of weeks that I've known about this month-long venture. I can assure you that you will not be reading 30 days of the most profound material you have ever read. Some days I will try to be funny -- emphasis there on the word "try." Some days I will be serious. Some days I will be stupid -- emphasis there on the words "will be." If I insert a video clip or pictures on any particular day, I intend to supplement that with a written post as well. I don't want to take short-cuts to maintain my eligibility for the "prizes" that are being randomly distributed to NaBloPoMo participants.

One word of caution. If you visit the NaBloPoMo site, they have a feature that allows you to click on the "randomizer" button and view the blogs that are registered to participate this month. They come up randomly -- hence the title. Please know that while many blogs post pictures on their sites, some post pictures that are not suitable for everyone's eyes. I got an eyeful -- so to speak -- when I clicked on the randomizer last week and landed on a site that features unclothed XY-chromosomed humans. I was "lucky" enough to land on a day that featured very old unclothed heterogametics -- emphasis there on the words "VERY OLD." I could not click the red X to close the window fast enough. The moral of this story is that if you choose to randomize, keep your finger on the left click in case you need to avert your eyes rapidly.

In other news, we took Keegan out trick-or-treating last night. Superman took home a lot of candy. More on that later when I can supplement the post with some pics of the K-Man of Steel. Of course, my dog neighbors used the occasion to remind me of last Saturday's debacle in Jacksonville. I believe my initial thoughts were something to the effect of "just shut up and give my kid a snack-size Snickers before I kick your jack-o-lantern off your front porch." But I'm not bitter or anything.