I worship the God of the impossible. Nothing is impossible for God. As Jesus standing outside the mouth of Lazarus's tomb said, "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies." Lazarus had been died for 4 days. His sisters were more worried about the stench then anything else when Jesus asked the stone to be rolled away. They believed that if Jesus had been there, their brother would not have died. They believed Jesus could have done a miracle and they believed that Jesus would do miracles in the future... but they had a hard time believing Jesus was going to do a miracle right then.
I am the same way. I think lots of us struggle with believing God is going to do a miracle right now. God was able to do miracles in the past. God will do miracles in the future. I believe God is doing miracles right now... whether or not He does is not up to me. I just don't want to act like He can't do them or isn't going to do them. I want to look for them. I want to expect them. I believe they are happening all around us all the time.
My life verses are Prov. 3:5-6, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your path."
I struggle with actually trusting God with all my desires. It sounds so ridiculous when I say that. How can I not easily trust God with all my heart? I know God is trustworthy. Sometimes my head gets in the way of my heart. I lean on my own understanding instead of simply trusting in the God of the impossible like a little child.
I think I too often pray for what I think can happen. I want to pray for the impossible. I want to see God do the impossible and praise Him. "In my weakness, His strength is made perfect." It is when we come to the end of ourselves that we experience God at a deeper level. 'God resist the prideful, but gives grace to the humble.' I want to live like I really trust Him. I want to live like I believe what I say I believe.
There are so many people all around me that need Jesus. There are so many people all around this world that need Jesus. Lord I pray for the revival of my heart... set it on fire for the lost I ask. Give me the grace, love and courage to be Your witness. I pray for revival at my school. I pray for revival in our country. I pray for revival around the world. Break my heart Lord and get rid of all the worthless desires and help me to trust You with all my heart. 'Create in me a clean heart o Lord.' Help me Lord to see Your miracles happening all around me and help me to PRAISE You with joy and enthusiasm.
I am nothing without You... but You amazingly want to use us to do Your good works. Help me to walk in them and praise and honor and glorify and worship You. You are NOT died. You are alive and on Your throne. You are at work. You are sovereign. You are Holy and I am not. I am crushed by my unworthiness, sinfulness and selfishness. I need Your touch to cleanse my heart. Give me a burden for my students... each one. Give me a burden for all of the students and adults at my school. It scares me to ask this Lord because I don't know what will happen to me if You really answer my prayer. There is a part of me that thinks I will be destroyed and so I have a hard time letting go of all my desires. Help me Lord to be so overwhelmed by a burden for the lost that I lose my concern for myself. Change me so You can use me to change others. Changed hearts change lives.
Day 129
Monday, April 28, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Slime and Chemistry Story
I don't remember hardly any of my teachers... but I do remember my chemistry teacher. He was a great teacher. He made the class fun and I learned a lot.
It was right after Christmas and I had gotten a can of 'Slime' in my stocking. We were making plastics in labs in chemistry and I told my teacher about the slime I had gotten. He was interested and asked me to bring in a small chunk of it. The next day I did. After a few days the teacher was giving a lecture. He had his podium out and was sitting on a stool blabbing away. He hardly ever did this. As he lectured, he kept having to sneeze. He was acting like he had a really bad cold but his face looked normal. Then all of the sudden I realized what was going on. He was going to use my slime!
I sat in the back of the class. Everyone else had no idea what was going on and especially what was going to happen. The teacher just kept talking and sneezing. I was now paying attention, not to what he was saying but to what he was doing. After several more agonizing minutes of lecturing and sneezing, he finally started making his move. His hands disappeared inside his podium. I knew they were getting ahold of the slime. Then came the build up to a big, I mean really big sneeze and he raised his hands to cover his mouth. I knew he had the slime in one hand.
Then, ATCHEW! and he flung the slime at the same moment, making it look like he had coughed up a chunk of his lung. The chunk of green slime hit a girl, that sat in the front row, on her neck and bounced off landing on her desk.
SHE SCREAMED... like only girls can... and so did all the other girls in the class. Then she bolted up out of her desk and ran out of the class. She was instantly followed by all of the other girls.
All of the guys in the class were initially and briefly stunned. Then we all laughed really hard for a long time. I knew what was going to happen and I was still stunned.
The teacher laughed so hard he fell sideways, stool and all. Like a giant fir tree, he crashed to the ground. He just laid there laughing hysterically. He finally pulled himself together and got up off the floor. His face now looked like he had a cold as it was all flush and his eyes were puffing from crying.
It was just him and us guys in the class for several minutes. We just kept laughing. Finally the girls all came back into class in one large silent group. They were not happy at all. The teacher and all of us guys realized that we should stop laughing... but that just made it even funnier to all of us males. So the rest of the class was either really funny or really annoying... it depended on your gender.
I think that chemistry teacher had an influence on me. I want to enjoy my students, subject and life.
Day 128
It was right after Christmas and I had gotten a can of 'Slime' in my stocking. We were making plastics in labs in chemistry and I told my teacher about the slime I had gotten. He was interested and asked me to bring in a small chunk of it. The next day I did. After a few days the teacher was giving a lecture. He had his podium out and was sitting on a stool blabbing away. He hardly ever did this. As he lectured, he kept having to sneeze. He was acting like he had a really bad cold but his face looked normal. Then all of the sudden I realized what was going on. He was going to use my slime!
I sat in the back of the class. Everyone else had no idea what was going on and especially what was going to happen. The teacher just kept talking and sneezing. I was now paying attention, not to what he was saying but to what he was doing. After several more agonizing minutes of lecturing and sneezing, he finally started making his move. His hands disappeared inside his podium. I knew they were getting ahold of the slime. Then came the build up to a big, I mean really big sneeze and he raised his hands to cover his mouth. I knew he had the slime in one hand.
Then, ATCHEW! and he flung the slime at the same moment, making it look like he had coughed up a chunk of his lung. The chunk of green slime hit a girl, that sat in the front row, on her neck and bounced off landing on her desk.
SHE SCREAMED... like only girls can... and so did all the other girls in the class. Then she bolted up out of her desk and ran out of the class. She was instantly followed by all of the other girls.
All of the guys in the class were initially and briefly stunned. Then we all laughed really hard for a long time. I knew what was going to happen and I was still stunned.
The teacher laughed so hard he fell sideways, stool and all. Like a giant fir tree, he crashed to the ground. He just laid there laughing hysterically. He finally pulled himself together and got up off the floor. His face now looked like he had a cold as it was all flush and his eyes were puffing from crying.
It was just him and us guys in the class for several minutes. We just kept laughing. Finally the girls all came back into class in one large silent group. They were not happy at all. The teacher and all of us guys realized that we should stop laughing... but that just made it even funnier to all of us males. So the rest of the class was either really funny or really annoying... it depended on your gender.
I think that chemistry teacher had an influence on me. I want to enjoy my students, subject and life.
Day 128
Friday, April 25, 2014
Dylan's Leaf Story
About 8 years ago, I had a 7th grade student I'll call Dylan. He sat in the third desk in the row next to the window. It was late October and it was pouring down rain. He was in my 4th period class.
I was teaching away and I looked over and noticed that Dylan was not paying attention... he was staring out the window. I walked over to him and looked out the window to see what he was looking at. I was thinking maybe something really cool was going on outside and I wanted to see.
One year, I had a student exclaim as she stared out the window, "Hey, there is a cow riding a whale!" I quickly walked over to take a look and sure enough, there was a picture of a cow riding a whale on the side of a huge milk truck. I had never seen the truck before and it was pretty cool looking to me. I told the class, "There really is a cow riding a whale... come see." Only a few kids got up to see. So in frustrated amazement, I commanded them all to get up and see the stupid cow riding the whale.
About 13 years ago I taught 7th and 8th graders, at Nate Saint Memorial School in Shell Ecuador. One day I looked out the window and saw a monkey in a tree. I had never looked out a classroom window and seen a monkey before. My 8 students all had their heads down and were working away. I interrupted them and said, "Hey, there is a monkey in that tree!" They all briefly looked up and glanced at the monkey and without any expression returned to their work. I couldn't believe it. I told them to stop working and look at the monkey for at least one minute. It was a really long minute for them. It was weird to me... their total lack of enthusiasm in seeing a wild monkey out their classroom window. That just doesn't happen in Tacoma Washington very often.
Anyways... back to Dylan... sorry.
There was nothing to look at but hard rain coming down. The two trees in the court yard had lost all their leaves so you couldn't tell how hard the wind was blowing. Then I noticed it. One of the trees still had one leave left! I quickly realized that Dylan wanted to see that last leaf fall of that tree. He was totally distracted by this goal of his. Without a word, I turned and walked out of the room and out of the school, around the building to the court yard and right up to the tree. All of my students were looking out the window now. I reached out and plucked the last leaf off the tree and dropped it to the ground. I could see Dylan and all of my students laughing and smiling. I returned to class and we got back to work. I thought it was all over. I was wrong.
The class had second lunch. This meant that after 25 minutes of class time, they got lunch, and then they returned for another 25 minutes of class.
After lunch, I started back teaching away and quickly noticed that Dylan was not paying attention again. In fact, he had turned his desk slightly towards the window so he was obviously looking out the window. I couldn't believe he wasn't paying attention. We had had our little laugh and now it was time to get busy. He wanted me to know he was staring out the window.
I asked Dylan what he was looking at now. He heard me, but he silently kept staring out the window. I was ready to get mad. I walked over and looked out the window. To my surprise, the tree had one leaf on it again... and Dylan was staring at it... again. I couldn't believe it. During lunch he had gotten some tape and gone outside and taped a leaf back onto a branch of the tree. I burst out in laughter. The class erupted in laughter, they weren't so sure how I was going to react... that is why there was a pause. I patted Dylan on the back and we smiled hard at each other.
I had Dylan in class and coached him in wrestling for 3 years. We would, once in while, remind each other of that day and have a good laugh.
I love laughing with my students. I love seeing them laugh. When I see past students, they remember and comment on the funny stories, the serious talks and good discipline of the class.
Day 127
I was teaching away and I looked over and noticed that Dylan was not paying attention... he was staring out the window. I walked over to him and looked out the window to see what he was looking at. I was thinking maybe something really cool was going on outside and I wanted to see.
One year, I had a student exclaim as she stared out the window, "Hey, there is a cow riding a whale!" I quickly walked over to take a look and sure enough, there was a picture of a cow riding a whale on the side of a huge milk truck. I had never seen the truck before and it was pretty cool looking to me. I told the class, "There really is a cow riding a whale... come see." Only a few kids got up to see. So in frustrated amazement, I commanded them all to get up and see the stupid cow riding the whale.
About 13 years ago I taught 7th and 8th graders, at Nate Saint Memorial School in Shell Ecuador. One day I looked out the window and saw a monkey in a tree. I had never looked out a classroom window and seen a monkey before. My 8 students all had their heads down and were working away. I interrupted them and said, "Hey, there is a monkey in that tree!" They all briefly looked up and glanced at the monkey and without any expression returned to their work. I couldn't believe it. I told them to stop working and look at the monkey for at least one minute. It was a really long minute for them. It was weird to me... their total lack of enthusiasm in seeing a wild monkey out their classroom window. That just doesn't happen in Tacoma Washington very often.
Anyways... back to Dylan... sorry.
There was nothing to look at but hard rain coming down. The two trees in the court yard had lost all their leaves so you couldn't tell how hard the wind was blowing. Then I noticed it. One of the trees still had one leave left! I quickly realized that Dylan wanted to see that last leaf fall of that tree. He was totally distracted by this goal of his. Without a word, I turned and walked out of the room and out of the school, around the building to the court yard and right up to the tree. All of my students were looking out the window now. I reached out and plucked the last leaf off the tree and dropped it to the ground. I could see Dylan and all of my students laughing and smiling. I returned to class and we got back to work. I thought it was all over. I was wrong.
The class had second lunch. This meant that after 25 minutes of class time, they got lunch, and then they returned for another 25 minutes of class.
After lunch, I started back teaching away and quickly noticed that Dylan was not paying attention again. In fact, he had turned his desk slightly towards the window so he was obviously looking out the window. I couldn't believe he wasn't paying attention. We had had our little laugh and now it was time to get busy. He wanted me to know he was staring out the window.
I asked Dylan what he was looking at now. He heard me, but he silently kept staring out the window. I was ready to get mad. I walked over and looked out the window. To my surprise, the tree had one leaf on it again... and Dylan was staring at it... again. I couldn't believe it. During lunch he had gotten some tape and gone outside and taped a leaf back onto a branch of the tree. I burst out in laughter. The class erupted in laughter, they weren't so sure how I was going to react... that is why there was a pause. I patted Dylan on the back and we smiled hard at each other.
I had Dylan in class and coached him in wrestling for 3 years. We would, once in while, remind each other of that day and have a good laugh.
I love laughing with my students. I love seeing them laugh. When I see past students, they remember and comment on the funny stories, the serious talks and good discipline of the class.
Day 127
Thursday, April 24, 2014
The Jaws Story
I was a sophomore in high school when Jaws came out. It was awesome. Everybody saw it.
My brother, our friends and I were totally into water skiing in high school. My brother and I owned our own boat. We would ski every weekend once the weather warmed up enough. In fact, my junior year, we skied at least once in every month through the entire year. We skied out in the Puget Sound, in Filucy Bay.
Jaws came out in the spring. It was the first nice weekend in early May and we were at 'The Point,' as we called it. It is the south tip of the mouth of Fulicy Bay. It is a great place to water ski from because the beach has no barnacles and is steep... you can pull right up to the beach with your motor still down and running.
Everybody who was there that day was a good skier. We were all slalom skiers and everyone could step start. Step starting is when you stand in about knee deep water and hold your ski out of the water with a couple coils of ski rope in one hand, while you hold the handle of the ski rope in the other. The boat trolls away from you and when the rope gets pretty taut, except for the few coils, you say, "Hit it!" and the driver guns it and you simply step onto your ski without getting wet at all.
We were all very aggressive skiers. We would push the limits of our skiing abilities. The goal was always to cut as sharp and hard as you could each time. You wanted to skip your shoulder on the water and not falling. You wanted to throw up as big of a spray as you could. Therefore, we all fell a lot... sometimes the wipeouts were very impressive.
Not this day. No one was falling or even getting close to falling. Everyone was skiing very conservatively. Everyone was afraid of Jaws and no one was saying anything about it. It was really bugging me. I was the youngest, everyone else was either a junior or senior. At the end of each person's turn, they would ski right up to the beach and run out of their ski. The only thing getting wet were people's feet and ankles. I was the last to go. I decided that it was up to me to show everyone else that there was no reason to be afraid of Jaws. I was going to ski hard and fall and not get eaten by Jaws... that would show them... so I thought.
So I put on my farmer John style wet suit and then my ski vest and gloves. I adjusted my ski binding tight and jammed my left foot in. I waded out into knee deep water as my brother, the driver, started trolling away and nodded 'Hit it' as the rope grew taut. Within seconds, I was gliding across the top of the water at about 36 mph. I loved water skiing. I loved pushing myself to and past the limits of my ability.
With intense effort, I started cutting back and forth across the wake. I was getting lower and lower with each cut. I was determined to not let some stupid movie ruin my summer of water skiing. I was in the zone... then WIPE OUT! I caught the tip of my ski as I flew to the other side of the wake after a cut.
I went skipping across the top of the water for a bit before I sunk in. It was one of those impressive wipe outs. Suddenly, I was overcome by an intense dread of Jaws. I was in salt water. I had just made a big commotion by falling and I knew sharks were attracted to motion. My ski had flown off in the crash and now I was panicking because I had nothing to protect myself with. I fearfully scanned the surface of the water looking for my ski. To my horror, I spotted it upside down with the fin sticking out of the water, looking like a shark fin. It was about 20 ft away and I had to swim for it... but swimming meant more commotion. I paused for a bit, then realized that I needed to go get my ski. So I swam as fast as I could to it, grabbed it and slipped it back on my left foot.
Now I felt so much better. My brother was trolling away from me and I was about halfway between the boat and the handle. I've skied since I was 5 years old and fallen hundreds of times. I've never had anything touch me in the water... until that day!
Suddenly, something brushed against the bottom of my right foot! I freaked! All's I could hear in my head was the sound of that lady in Jaws getting thrashed around and screaming and gurgling. I pulled and pulled at the ski rope and got ahold of the handle. There was a pile of rope right in front of me. I screamed, "HIT IT! HIT IT! HIT IT!" as I frantically flailed with my arms. My brother looked back and saw me panicking and with a questioning look on his face, he HIT IT.
The rope was zipping away from me and as it got close to the end, I threw my arms back over my head and arched my belly skyward and YANK... I was pulled violently out of the water... good bye Jaws. But my sense of relief was short lived as I kept going forward and right over the front of my ski, face first into the water. I refused to let go. I rolled over onto my back. I still was going to live... surely my brother will take me back to shore. Surely he saw my panic and would do the right thing... NOT!
Soon I was bouncing around and rolling over and over from belly to back as he whipped me at full speed over waves. He was thrashing me around like an inner tube ride... but I was the inner tube. Finally, I let go. I couldn't hold on any longer. I was exhausted and totally afraid. He had taken me way out in the middle of the bay where the sharks would hang out. He was doing donuts around me at full speed. I was so mad at him but I was even more afraid of Jaws. I was expecting dismemberment at any moment from Jaws and there was nothing I could do about it.
Then something inside me snapped. I couldn't stand the suspense any longer. I started flailing at the surface to attract Jaws and I stuck my face under water and yelled, "BITE ME! BITE ME!" All the while my brother was still doing high speed donuts around me circling the spot in the water where I was... just in case Jaws needed any help. I kept flailing and screaming into the water trying to get eaten by Jaws. My brother finally came trolling up to me. I yelled at him in full anger and hysteria and explained that something had brushed the bottom of my foot and that was why I had freaked out.
Sudden my brother and the other 2 guys in the boat sprang to my rescue and tried to pull me out of the water. I harshly yelled at them, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Then to their amazement I continued to try to get eaten by Jaws by flailing and screaming under water. They just stood there in shock as they watched me unsuccessfully try to get eaten.
Finally, I was exhausted. I couldn't thrash anymore. I wasn't getting eaten. I had tried my best to get eaten and hadn't. I HAD NO FEAR OF JAWS. I asked my brother and our friends to pull me out. The quickly did. I didn't realize what I had done at the time. I had totally humiliated them. You see I was the little brother... and the little brother had just tried his best to get eaten by Jaws.
From then on, everyone skied hard, fell and didn't get eaten by Jaws. Our summer was full of glorious days of water skiing.
I always tell my kids and students to face their fears.
Fear knocks on the door of faith. Courage opens the door and sees nothing.
Day
My brother, our friends and I were totally into water skiing in high school. My brother and I owned our own boat. We would ski every weekend once the weather warmed up enough. In fact, my junior year, we skied at least once in every month through the entire year. We skied out in the Puget Sound, in Filucy Bay.
Jaws came out in the spring. It was the first nice weekend in early May and we were at 'The Point,' as we called it. It is the south tip of the mouth of Fulicy Bay. It is a great place to water ski from because the beach has no barnacles and is steep... you can pull right up to the beach with your motor still down and running.
Everybody who was there that day was a good skier. We were all slalom skiers and everyone could step start. Step starting is when you stand in about knee deep water and hold your ski out of the water with a couple coils of ski rope in one hand, while you hold the handle of the ski rope in the other. The boat trolls away from you and when the rope gets pretty taut, except for the few coils, you say, "Hit it!" and the driver guns it and you simply step onto your ski without getting wet at all.
We were all very aggressive skiers. We would push the limits of our skiing abilities. The goal was always to cut as sharp and hard as you could each time. You wanted to skip your shoulder on the water and not falling. You wanted to throw up as big of a spray as you could. Therefore, we all fell a lot... sometimes the wipeouts were very impressive.
Not this day. No one was falling or even getting close to falling. Everyone was skiing very conservatively. Everyone was afraid of Jaws and no one was saying anything about it. It was really bugging me. I was the youngest, everyone else was either a junior or senior. At the end of each person's turn, they would ski right up to the beach and run out of their ski. The only thing getting wet were people's feet and ankles. I was the last to go. I decided that it was up to me to show everyone else that there was no reason to be afraid of Jaws. I was going to ski hard and fall and not get eaten by Jaws... that would show them... so I thought.
So I put on my farmer John style wet suit and then my ski vest and gloves. I adjusted my ski binding tight and jammed my left foot in. I waded out into knee deep water as my brother, the driver, started trolling away and nodded 'Hit it' as the rope grew taut. Within seconds, I was gliding across the top of the water at about 36 mph. I loved water skiing. I loved pushing myself to and past the limits of my ability.
With intense effort, I started cutting back and forth across the wake. I was getting lower and lower with each cut. I was determined to not let some stupid movie ruin my summer of water skiing. I was in the zone... then WIPE OUT! I caught the tip of my ski as I flew to the other side of the wake after a cut.
I went skipping across the top of the water for a bit before I sunk in. It was one of those impressive wipe outs. Suddenly, I was overcome by an intense dread of Jaws. I was in salt water. I had just made a big commotion by falling and I knew sharks were attracted to motion. My ski had flown off in the crash and now I was panicking because I had nothing to protect myself with. I fearfully scanned the surface of the water looking for my ski. To my horror, I spotted it upside down with the fin sticking out of the water, looking like a shark fin. It was about 20 ft away and I had to swim for it... but swimming meant more commotion. I paused for a bit, then realized that I needed to go get my ski. So I swam as fast as I could to it, grabbed it and slipped it back on my left foot.
Now I felt so much better. My brother was trolling away from me and I was about halfway between the boat and the handle. I've skied since I was 5 years old and fallen hundreds of times. I've never had anything touch me in the water... until that day!
Suddenly, something brushed against the bottom of my right foot! I freaked! All's I could hear in my head was the sound of that lady in Jaws getting thrashed around and screaming and gurgling. I pulled and pulled at the ski rope and got ahold of the handle. There was a pile of rope right in front of me. I screamed, "HIT IT! HIT IT! HIT IT!" as I frantically flailed with my arms. My brother looked back and saw me panicking and with a questioning look on his face, he HIT IT.
The rope was zipping away from me and as it got close to the end, I threw my arms back over my head and arched my belly skyward and YANK... I was pulled violently out of the water... good bye Jaws. But my sense of relief was short lived as I kept going forward and right over the front of my ski, face first into the water. I refused to let go. I rolled over onto my back. I still was going to live... surely my brother will take me back to shore. Surely he saw my panic and would do the right thing... NOT!
Soon I was bouncing around and rolling over and over from belly to back as he whipped me at full speed over waves. He was thrashing me around like an inner tube ride... but I was the inner tube. Finally, I let go. I couldn't hold on any longer. I was exhausted and totally afraid. He had taken me way out in the middle of the bay where the sharks would hang out. He was doing donuts around me at full speed. I was so mad at him but I was even more afraid of Jaws. I was expecting dismemberment at any moment from Jaws and there was nothing I could do about it.
Then something inside me snapped. I couldn't stand the suspense any longer. I started flailing at the surface to attract Jaws and I stuck my face under water and yelled, "BITE ME! BITE ME!" All the while my brother was still doing high speed donuts around me circling the spot in the water where I was... just in case Jaws needed any help. I kept flailing and screaming into the water trying to get eaten by Jaws. My brother finally came trolling up to me. I yelled at him in full anger and hysteria and explained that something had brushed the bottom of my foot and that was why I had freaked out.
Sudden my brother and the other 2 guys in the boat sprang to my rescue and tried to pull me out of the water. I harshly yelled at them, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Then to their amazement I continued to try to get eaten by Jaws by flailing and screaming under water. They just stood there in shock as they watched me unsuccessfully try to get eaten.
Finally, I was exhausted. I couldn't thrash anymore. I wasn't getting eaten. I had tried my best to get eaten and hadn't. I HAD NO FEAR OF JAWS. I asked my brother and our friends to pull me out. The quickly did. I didn't realize what I had done at the time. I had totally humiliated them. You see I was the little brother... and the little brother had just tried his best to get eaten by Jaws.
From then on, everyone skied hard, fell and didn't get eaten by Jaws. Our summer was full of glorious days of water skiing.
I always tell my kids and students to face their fears.
Fear knocks on the door of faith. Courage opens the door and sees nothing.
Day
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
1,000,000,000
It is so important to respect ourselves. We are fearfully and wonderfully made and we need to treat ourselves with respect. We need to treat others with respect... even the people we feel don't deserve our respect.
Integrity is doing the right thing even when you think no one is looking. The problem is...what is the right thing? How do we decide what is right or wrong?
Our society use to decided what was right or wrong by what the Bible said... not that everyone believed in it or obeyed it... but it was where we looked to decide. Not any more!
Now we vote. Now we decide for ourselves. Now we act like we are God... how foolish.
Right is right even if no one is doing it and wrong is wrong even if everyone is doing it.
Now we pass laws to make something legal... but does that make it right?
It is such a terrible idea to look to the government to find out if something is right or wrong morally. If we were living, 75 years ago in Germany, our government would be teaching us to hate and kill Jews. People should have known it was wrong. Many did and were silenced.
Students are being taught to value tolerance the most.
Tolerance is the sole virtue of a morally bankrupt society. Students need to figure out how they are going to decide what is right and wrong. We are foolish to look to our government to get answers to questions of morality. Just because something is legal doesn't mean it is right. The awful facts about abortion are clear.
There are over 1,000,000,000 pornographic websites. Pornography is awful and evil. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. We need to respect ourselves and others. Pornography rips away at our souls. No one can watch it and be unaffected by it. We need to be repulsed by it and encourage our friends and family to flee from it. There is such a silence about it and in that silence there is acceptance so how. Right now, about 80% of students will be regular viewers by the time they are 17... in a class of 30, that would be 24 students.
We need to flee from evil. We need to flee from pornography and expect the same from our friends and family.
If I have offended anyone... I AM NOT SORRY!
Day 125
Monday, April 21, 2014
Respect
At school, I have been confronted more and more with students demonstrating poor respect for themselves and others. I am so disappointed by the large number of adults at our school that allow students to regularly lie to them and/or break school rules expecting nothing to be done about it and usually not being disappointed.
This idea of respect and integrity is foreign to so many young people and has simply not been expected, let alone required, by the adults at our school. These are character traits I teach and encourage in my class, but it sure feels like many adults at our school accept and expect the opposite from students.
Education 101 is respect. Respect yourself. Students do this by doing their best. Respect others. Students demonstrate this to teachers by listening and following direction. Students demonstrate this to other students by treating fellow students kindly. I am concerned about the lack of respect I am seeing at school.
Respect and integrity will be a major focus of my teaching in these remaining weeks for this year.
Day 124
This idea of respect and integrity is foreign to so many young people and has simply not been expected, let alone required, by the adults at our school. These are character traits I teach and encourage in my class, but it sure feels like many adults at our school accept and expect the opposite from students.
Education 101 is respect. Respect yourself. Students do this by doing their best. Respect others. Students demonstrate this to teachers by listening and following direction. Students demonstrate this to other students by treating fellow students kindly. I am concerned about the lack of respect I am seeing at school.
Respect and integrity will be a major focus of my teaching in these remaining weeks for this year.
Day 124
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Forgiven
Jesus died and rose and lives. I have confessed my sinfulness and received Jesus Christ as my Lord as savior. Praise God for His relentlessness love. I need His love, grace and strength to forgive and love others.
My salvation is all about what Jesus did. I claim only the grace and faith God gave me to receive His gift.
My salvation is all about what Jesus did. I claim only the grace and faith God gave me to receive His gift.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
He Won't Stop Drumming Story
In Blog 113, I wrote about a student that wouldn't stop making animal noises. Well... this is about a teacher that had a student that wouldn't stop drumming with his drum sticks on his desk.
Remember, if you read Blog 113, there were a few years where some teachers would send or bring me their problem students for me to 'deal' with. They brought them to me rather than the principal or VP because I got results and my students and I really enjoyed it.
Anyways... back to the little drummer boy. I still don't know why the teacher just didn't take the drum sticks from him?
It was a Geometry class. They were taking a test. I was in the back, at my desk grading tests. We all had our heads down working, including me. Suddenly the door flew open and in burst this frustrated and highly agitated teacher with her little drummer boy in tow. She loudly announced to us all, "He won't stop drumming on his desk!" Then she quickly turned and without another word, left with her student awkwardly stranded up in the front of the class. All of my students gleefully and expectantly turned to look at me to see what I was going to do.
I had no idea what I was going to do... so I just put my head down and continued grading tests. My students quickly followed suit and resumed working on their tests. 'Tom' just stood there shyly not knowing what to do... just like me.
There was only one empty desk and it was way in the back of the room right next to me. I graded a few tests while Tom silently stood in the front. Then Tom, as I knew he eventually would, slowly started walking down the aisle towards the empty seat. Right as he started sliding into the seat of that empty desk, I slammed my hand down as hard as I could(it really hurt), and mutely pointed to the front off the room. Everyone was startled, especially Tom. Now everyone else in the class was eagerly looking back at me to see what I was going to do next.
Tom silently walked back to the front of the room. He was still numbly holding his drum sticks. When he got to the front, he turned around and looked back at me. I stared him in the eye and without a word, I raised my right hand and motioned to Tom to move to the right a little. Then I motioned him to move forward a little. Then I motioned him to move to the left for a while, clear to the other side of the front of the class. Now all of my students were laughing while Tom wasn't too thrilled about his new found attention that he had so desperately earlier desired.
Like a puppet master, I continued to 'move' Tom around the front of the class, for a while, for my student's enjoyment(and mine). Finally, I forcefully and silently made a stop sign with my hand and Tom did just that. I put my head down and without a word or expression, continued to grade tests. My students once again disappointedly followed my example and got back to work on their tests.
After I had graded a few tests, I loudly slammed my hand down again on my desk. Everyone jumped. I sternly stated, "You moved," and I resumed silently toying with him. I motioned Tom to move to the right. I motioned Tom to move to the left. I motioned him to move this way and that way while all the time my students laughed. After a bit, I gave him the stop sign again and resumed grading tests. The room quickly got dead silent and my students once again began working on their tests. Tom stood there alone and sorry. He had had his fill of attention.
After I had graded a few more tests, I looked up and calmly asked Tom, "Can I trust you?" Tom just blankly looked back at me... he had no idea what I meant. I explained, "Can I trust you to sit in one of my desks without disturbing the class?" Tom, amazingly stating the obvious, replied, "You can hold my drum sticks." I smiled and told him that he could sit down. Tom quickly walked to that empty desk next to me, handed me his drum sticks and gratefully sat down. Everyone of my students silently looked back at me and gave me an understanding smile of approval. They all understood what had just happened.
When the bell rang, I gave Tom back his drum sticks and genuinely smiled at him and said, "Have a great day." Tom understood too. He took his sticks and happily walked out of my class. Later in the day, he walked by my room in between classes while I was out in the hall. We smiled at each other and said, "Hi." to each other.
The next day(I know this because the teacher described the events, from her class, to me), Tom was back to his old ways in his other class and had just started drumming on his desk again. His teacher asked, "Do I need to send you to Mr. Power's room again?" To her and everyone else's amazement, Tom instantly stood up and handed her his drum sticks and meekly stated, "Take them." Then a friend of Tom's leaned over and asked, "Dude, what did he do to you?" Tom replied, "Dude, you do not want to go to Mr. Power's room!"
The teacher laughed recounting the events of that class to me and in bewilderment asked, "What did you do?" I smiled and said, "I just gave him a lot of what he thought he wanted."
I believe discipline should be immediate and painful... but if it can be given and received with a sense of humor it is even better.
Day 122
Remember, if you read Blog 113, there were a few years where some teachers would send or bring me their problem students for me to 'deal' with. They brought them to me rather than the principal or VP because I got results and my students and I really enjoyed it.
Anyways... back to the little drummer boy. I still don't know why the teacher just didn't take the drum sticks from him?
It was a Geometry class. They were taking a test. I was in the back, at my desk grading tests. We all had our heads down working, including me. Suddenly the door flew open and in burst this frustrated and highly agitated teacher with her little drummer boy in tow. She loudly announced to us all, "He won't stop drumming on his desk!" Then she quickly turned and without another word, left with her student awkwardly stranded up in the front of the class. All of my students gleefully and expectantly turned to look at me to see what I was going to do.
I had no idea what I was going to do... so I just put my head down and continued grading tests. My students quickly followed suit and resumed working on their tests. 'Tom' just stood there shyly not knowing what to do... just like me.
There was only one empty desk and it was way in the back of the room right next to me. I graded a few tests while Tom silently stood in the front. Then Tom, as I knew he eventually would, slowly started walking down the aisle towards the empty seat. Right as he started sliding into the seat of that empty desk, I slammed my hand down as hard as I could(it really hurt), and mutely pointed to the front off the room. Everyone was startled, especially Tom. Now everyone else in the class was eagerly looking back at me to see what I was going to do next.
Tom silently walked back to the front of the room. He was still numbly holding his drum sticks. When he got to the front, he turned around and looked back at me. I stared him in the eye and without a word, I raised my right hand and motioned to Tom to move to the right a little. Then I motioned him to move forward a little. Then I motioned him to move to the left for a while, clear to the other side of the front of the class. Now all of my students were laughing while Tom wasn't too thrilled about his new found attention that he had so desperately earlier desired.
Like a puppet master, I continued to 'move' Tom around the front of the class, for a while, for my student's enjoyment(and mine). Finally, I forcefully and silently made a stop sign with my hand and Tom did just that. I put my head down and without a word or expression, continued to grade tests. My students once again disappointedly followed my example and got back to work on their tests.
After I had graded a few tests, I loudly slammed my hand down again on my desk. Everyone jumped. I sternly stated, "You moved," and I resumed silently toying with him. I motioned Tom to move to the right. I motioned Tom to move to the left. I motioned him to move this way and that way while all the time my students laughed. After a bit, I gave him the stop sign again and resumed grading tests. The room quickly got dead silent and my students once again began working on their tests. Tom stood there alone and sorry. He had had his fill of attention.
After I had graded a few more tests, I looked up and calmly asked Tom, "Can I trust you?" Tom just blankly looked back at me... he had no idea what I meant. I explained, "Can I trust you to sit in one of my desks without disturbing the class?" Tom, amazingly stating the obvious, replied, "You can hold my drum sticks." I smiled and told him that he could sit down. Tom quickly walked to that empty desk next to me, handed me his drum sticks and gratefully sat down. Everyone of my students silently looked back at me and gave me an understanding smile of approval. They all understood what had just happened.
When the bell rang, I gave Tom back his drum sticks and genuinely smiled at him and said, "Have a great day." Tom understood too. He took his sticks and happily walked out of my class. Later in the day, he walked by my room in between classes while I was out in the hall. We smiled at each other and said, "Hi." to each other.
The next day(I know this because the teacher described the events, from her class, to me), Tom was back to his old ways in his other class and had just started drumming on his desk again. His teacher asked, "Do I need to send you to Mr. Power's room again?" To her and everyone else's amazement, Tom instantly stood up and handed her his drum sticks and meekly stated, "Take them." Then a friend of Tom's leaned over and asked, "Dude, what did he do to you?" Tom replied, "Dude, you do not want to go to Mr. Power's room!"
The teacher laughed recounting the events of that class to me and in bewilderment asked, "What did you do?" I smiled and said, "I just gave him a lot of what he thought he wanted."
I believe discipline should be immediate and painful... but if it can be given and received with a sense of humor it is even better.
Day 122
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
The Kick the Can Story
A few years ago, I had a student who didn't do his homework three days in a row. I'll call him 'Fred.' I was frustrated with Fred.
Now I need to stop and point out that this story occurred before my life changing experience with 'Stanley'(see Blog #1).
Anyways... suddenly I got this brilliant idea of how to motivate Fred. I walked over and picked up the garbage can from the front corner of the room. I calmly set it down on the floor in front of Fred's desk. Then I calmly told Fred that he was frustrating me and I was running out of ideas of how to motivate him. Next, I flatly stated that I could not kick him but I could kick the can.
Then with a sudden and violent effort, I kicked that plastic garbage can as hard as I could into the front corner of the room. Papers erupted from it mid flight and with a crash it rattled around in the front corner of my room. Everybody laughed... except for Fred. He sat there bewildered.
I went on with the class teaching away and Fred did a nice job of paying attention. He left after class and I thought that maybe this demonstration may have sparked some effort in him. However, the next day, Fred was absent and a student told me that he transferred out of my class.
The next day the principal came to my class to ask me about what happened that day. I clearly described my actions to the principal and she sat there with a look of shock and amazement on her face. Then she instructed me to refrain from kicking a garbage can in class in the future. Whenever I tell my students this story, I always include a demonstration of kicking the can. They love it.
Day 121
Now I need to stop and point out that this story occurred before my life changing experience with 'Stanley'(see Blog #1).
Anyways... suddenly I got this brilliant idea of how to motivate Fred. I walked over and picked up the garbage can from the front corner of the room. I calmly set it down on the floor in front of Fred's desk. Then I calmly told Fred that he was frustrating me and I was running out of ideas of how to motivate him. Next, I flatly stated that I could not kick him but I could kick the can.
Then with a sudden and violent effort, I kicked that plastic garbage can as hard as I could into the front corner of the room. Papers erupted from it mid flight and with a crash it rattled around in the front corner of my room. Everybody laughed... except for Fred. He sat there bewildered.
I went on with the class teaching away and Fred did a nice job of paying attention. He left after class and I thought that maybe this demonstration may have sparked some effort in him. However, the next day, Fred was absent and a student told me that he transferred out of my class.
The next day the principal came to my class to ask me about what happened that day. I clearly described my actions to the principal and she sat there with a look of shock and amazement on her face. Then she instructed me to refrain from kicking a garbage can in class in the future. Whenever I tell my students this story, I always include a demonstration of kicking the can. They love it.
Day 121
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Saved
In a previous blog, I'm not sure which one, I asked for prayer about a student the counselor told me had serious issues. She asked me to give him extra attention. I even received at least one comment from a reader saying they were praying for him. Well, today he told me that he got saved recently! I was so excited. I want to say thank you for your prayers. Prayer does work. I need your support in prayer and it is making a difference. Praise God.
I plan on writing him a Bible verse each day. I shared one with him today. He was very happy about that. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
On the way to church this past Sunday, we were listening to a Christian radio program and they were talking about praise. The speaker mentioned a book by CS Lewis on praise. I can't remember the title. But Lewis wrote about how praise went along with enjoyment and how to fully enjoy something, we need to share our joy with others. It is simply not complete praise when we don't share it with others. He sighted the example of watching an exciting football game. When your team wins, it is so much more fun to celebrate the victory with others. In the same way, we need to celebrate God with others to fully praise Him. It really blew me away... enjoy and celebrate with others... are two components of praise I hadn't thought of before.
Day 120
I plan on writing him a Bible verse each day. I shared one with him today. He was very happy about that. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
On the way to church this past Sunday, we were listening to a Christian radio program and they were talking about praise. The speaker mentioned a book by CS Lewis on praise. I can't remember the title. But Lewis wrote about how praise went along with enjoyment and how to fully enjoy something, we need to share our joy with others. It is simply not complete praise when we don't share it with others. He sighted the example of watching an exciting football game. When your team wins, it is so much more fun to celebrate the victory with others. In the same way, we need to celebrate God with others to fully praise Him. It really blew me away... enjoy and celebrate with others... are two components of praise I hadn't thought of before.
Day 120
Monday, April 14, 2014
Ugly Skill
I had hernia surgery last Thursday, so I was out Thursday and Friday. I was back at school today and heard from my students that both subs didn't know math and were not helpful. I also heard from a few students that some of my students demonstrated poor behavior. I tried hard to prepare them for my absence and made my expectations very clear.
Today I talked to them about the ugly skill we all have of finding a reason to treat others poorly. The Nazis killed millions of Jews and most of them slept well each night. A woman will convince herself that she has the right to 'terminate' her unwanted pregnancy... although often she will be haunted by guilt and regret afterwards.
Many students see a substitute as an excuse to be disrespectful and not try. I challenged my students to resist looking for reasons to treat others poorly. We are really good at finding them. It is simply wrong, selfish and destroys relationships.
Day 119
Today I talked to them about the ugly skill we all have of finding a reason to treat others poorly. The Nazis killed millions of Jews and most of them slept well each night. A woman will convince herself that she has the right to 'terminate' her unwanted pregnancy... although often she will be haunted by guilt and regret afterwards.
Many students see a substitute as an excuse to be disrespectful and not try. I challenged my students to resist looking for reasons to treat others poorly. We are really good at finding them. It is simply wrong, selfish and destroys relationships.
Day 119
Sunday, April 13, 2014
The Rancher Story
About 25 years ago, I spent 2 rough months up in Alaska being a deck hand on a long line fishing boat. It was an opportunity to make 'good' money... but I thankfully didn't.
The days were really long. My friend got me the job and we worked about 20 hours each day. We would spend a few days in port baiting garbage can sized tubs. These tubs would be tied together when setting the gear and ten tubs would be used to make one set. One set was 3 miles long. The hooks were 15 ft apart... so lots of baiting.
When setting the gear, we would travel pretty quickly. The hooks and line would rattle against a metal chute that each tub would be slid into when setting the gear. One time, while we were making a set, it got real quiet. I was in the back with 'Alvin.' He was the experienced guy and I was the green horn. We were talking, when we suddenly realized that something was wrong. We both turned and saw the 3/8th inch line stretching more and more tautly. A hook had inexplicably gotten hung up on the side of the chute. There were knifes everywhere, so I quickly reached up and snatched a knife that was stuck in the ceiling and reached out to cut the leader. 'Alvin' didn't have time to warn me... and he would have! I barely touched the leader, but when I did, the tub erupted! Like a volcano, hooks and line violently shot vertically up out of the tub, slamming into the ceiling and then horizontally yanked out the back. I was literally inches from the eruption of hooks and line. 'Alvin' grabbed me from behind and pulled me backwards. He then spun me around to face him and with a grim face told me to, "Never do that again." Long line fishing is very dangerous. Getting hooked and drug overboard was just one of the many popular ways to die.
When we would go out fishing, I would be very sea sick for the first two days. The problem was I would still need to work long dangerous hours while I was very sick... it was HARD. I remember barfing over the side and right after I barfed getting totally smacked in the upper half of my body and face by a big wave washing over the side of the boat. What a rush! You just had to stay alert. The third day out was always glorious. I would wake up hungry... the sea sickness would be gone.
There were 6 of us on the boat. My friend and I were the inexperienced ones. However, two people got hurt badly and it wasn't my friend or me. When you get a hook into you, you have several options. Option #1, pull out the hook. Option #2, cut the leader. Option #3, get pulled overboard to become bait. Option #4, grab onto something that isn't going anywhere and hang on until the hook comes out of your body. Twice, two of my coworkers chose Option #4. The sound of a grown man screaming as a hook goes sideways through his hand is pretty hard to listen to and even harder to watch.
I remember once we got into fish so heavily that they were knee deep on the deck. Another deck hand 'John' and I spent the next 6 to 7 hours cutting the heads off of fish. At one point we got into several wolf eels. I looked around and all of the sudden there were 4 to 5 huge eels snaking around on the top of all the fish. I couldn't move... it was creepy... I would simply keep cutting heads off of the cod fish we were catching and would wait for an eel to get close. Whenever one did, I would reach over and slice off its head. We had wolf eel for dinner that night and it was good... it tasted a lot like greasy chicken.
One night, I was up in the wheel house on watch. It was really stormy. We had to stay out in the bad weather overnight because we still had to pull in a set of gear the next day. It was about 2 AM. There were whitecaps on the top of all the big waves. Then in the distance, I noticed one long continuous white cap. I was getting closer and closer. I didn't know where the skipper slept. I didn't know what to do, but the wave was HUGE. It got closer and closer and then it hit. The boat we were in was a 65 ft long boat and the wheel house was maybe 15 ft up in the air. The stacks that went up out of the roof of the wheel house were at least 25 ft from sea level. The boat violently lurched to one side and then the next and water came crashing down through the stacks. Within moments the skipper came scrambling into the wheel house and gravely asked me what happened. I told him about the huge wave and that I didn't know where he slept. He told me to get to bed and I gratefully did.
The next morning, though, that is when I earned the nick-name 'Rancher.' It was still very stormy. We had to haul in that last set of gear. We were taking green water over the deck. Green water is deep water... not spray. I was up on the front deck heading cod fish. When a big wave would crash over the side, you would just hang onto whatever you had near you that wasn't going anywhere. Most of the time the water was about 2-3 ft deep! The skipper was up in the wheel house and it was all hands on deck. We were trying to get in the last set of gear and get the fish headed and stowed down below. It was nasty. I looked up at the skipper and he looked back down at me. I gave him a big stupid smile and a thumbs up. I was thinking, "This is rugged manly fishing!" I was not scared at all. He just looked down at me with a serious face and slowly shook his head from side to side. I suddenly realized that all may not be well. I looked over to my coworker 'John' and asked, "Have you ever been out in this kind of weather before?" He flatly stated, "I am crapping my pants right now." I couldn't believe it. This manly experienced fisherman was scared. I turned and looked, again, back up at my skipper... but this time I had fear in my eyes. He returned my gaze with a wry smile and a knowing nod of his head. I suddenly felt very small and helpless.
From then on my skipper called me 'Rancher.' One day I finally asked him why. He explained it like this, 'Well... the farthest thing from ranching is long line fishing.' In other words, I was so inexperienced, I wasn't scared when I should have been. I often call my students 'Ranchers' when they give me a ridiculous answer or do a lousy job of following directions.
Day 118
The days were really long. My friend got me the job and we worked about 20 hours each day. We would spend a few days in port baiting garbage can sized tubs. These tubs would be tied together when setting the gear and ten tubs would be used to make one set. One set was 3 miles long. The hooks were 15 ft apart... so lots of baiting.
When setting the gear, we would travel pretty quickly. The hooks and line would rattle against a metal chute that each tub would be slid into when setting the gear. One time, while we were making a set, it got real quiet. I was in the back with 'Alvin.' He was the experienced guy and I was the green horn. We were talking, when we suddenly realized that something was wrong. We both turned and saw the 3/8th inch line stretching more and more tautly. A hook had inexplicably gotten hung up on the side of the chute. There were knifes everywhere, so I quickly reached up and snatched a knife that was stuck in the ceiling and reached out to cut the leader. 'Alvin' didn't have time to warn me... and he would have! I barely touched the leader, but when I did, the tub erupted! Like a volcano, hooks and line violently shot vertically up out of the tub, slamming into the ceiling and then horizontally yanked out the back. I was literally inches from the eruption of hooks and line. 'Alvin' grabbed me from behind and pulled me backwards. He then spun me around to face him and with a grim face told me to, "Never do that again." Long line fishing is very dangerous. Getting hooked and drug overboard was just one of the many popular ways to die.
When we would go out fishing, I would be very sea sick for the first two days. The problem was I would still need to work long dangerous hours while I was very sick... it was HARD. I remember barfing over the side and right after I barfed getting totally smacked in the upper half of my body and face by a big wave washing over the side of the boat. What a rush! You just had to stay alert. The third day out was always glorious. I would wake up hungry... the sea sickness would be gone.
There were 6 of us on the boat. My friend and I were the inexperienced ones. However, two people got hurt badly and it wasn't my friend or me. When you get a hook into you, you have several options. Option #1, pull out the hook. Option #2, cut the leader. Option #3, get pulled overboard to become bait. Option #4, grab onto something that isn't going anywhere and hang on until the hook comes out of your body. Twice, two of my coworkers chose Option #4. The sound of a grown man screaming as a hook goes sideways through his hand is pretty hard to listen to and even harder to watch.
I remember once we got into fish so heavily that they were knee deep on the deck. Another deck hand 'John' and I spent the next 6 to 7 hours cutting the heads off of fish. At one point we got into several wolf eels. I looked around and all of the sudden there were 4 to 5 huge eels snaking around on the top of all the fish. I couldn't move... it was creepy... I would simply keep cutting heads off of the cod fish we were catching and would wait for an eel to get close. Whenever one did, I would reach over and slice off its head. We had wolf eel for dinner that night and it was good... it tasted a lot like greasy chicken.
One night, I was up in the wheel house on watch. It was really stormy. We had to stay out in the bad weather overnight because we still had to pull in a set of gear the next day. It was about 2 AM. There were whitecaps on the top of all the big waves. Then in the distance, I noticed one long continuous white cap. I was getting closer and closer. I didn't know where the skipper slept. I didn't know what to do, but the wave was HUGE. It got closer and closer and then it hit. The boat we were in was a 65 ft long boat and the wheel house was maybe 15 ft up in the air. The stacks that went up out of the roof of the wheel house were at least 25 ft from sea level. The boat violently lurched to one side and then the next and water came crashing down through the stacks. Within moments the skipper came scrambling into the wheel house and gravely asked me what happened. I told him about the huge wave and that I didn't know where he slept. He told me to get to bed and I gratefully did.
The next morning, though, that is when I earned the nick-name 'Rancher.' It was still very stormy. We had to haul in that last set of gear. We were taking green water over the deck. Green water is deep water... not spray. I was up on the front deck heading cod fish. When a big wave would crash over the side, you would just hang onto whatever you had near you that wasn't going anywhere. Most of the time the water was about 2-3 ft deep! The skipper was up in the wheel house and it was all hands on deck. We were trying to get in the last set of gear and get the fish headed and stowed down below. It was nasty. I looked up at the skipper and he looked back down at me. I gave him a big stupid smile and a thumbs up. I was thinking, "This is rugged manly fishing!" I was not scared at all. He just looked down at me with a serious face and slowly shook his head from side to side. I suddenly realized that all may not be well. I looked over to my coworker 'John' and asked, "Have you ever been out in this kind of weather before?" He flatly stated, "I am crapping my pants right now." I couldn't believe it. This manly experienced fisherman was scared. I turned and looked, again, back up at my skipper... but this time I had fear in my eyes. He returned my gaze with a wry smile and a knowing nod of his head. I suddenly felt very small and helpless.
From then on my skipper called me 'Rancher.' One day I finally asked him why. He explained it like this, 'Well... the farthest thing from ranching is long line fishing.' In other words, I was so inexperienced, I wasn't scared when I should have been. I often call my students 'Ranchers' when they give me a ridiculous answer or do a lousy job of following directions.
Day 118
Saturday, April 12, 2014
The Share Story
Around our house, one of the worst phrases our kids can say is, "That's not fair." They learned pretty quickly not to say it.
This happened when our oldest kids were 6, 4 and 2. We had just moved into a new house. I walked outside to see what they were doing. As the door opened, I was greeted by a loud shrieking wail coming from all three of our children. They had surrounded a plastic tricycle and symotaneously decided to ride it. All three of them had a death grip on the poor thing and were bent on ripping it from the other two. Each of their precious little faces were beat red and twisted in fierce wrath. Occasionally one would let go with one hand to quickly try to quickly hit one of the other two selfish siblings to free their grip from the tricycle.
I was shocked. I couldn't believe my eyes. Our three angelic children were behavior like a ravenous pack of hyenas fighting over a fresh kill.
I yelled, "Hey!" as I marched towards them and the once ravenous pack of hyenas instantly turned into a confused, quiet and stammering little group of kids. As I walked up they suddenly each started telling me that it was their turn to ride the tricycle and the wailing started to commence again.
When I got to them, without a word, I reached down and firmly grabbed the tricycle. With one hand, I lifted it in the air and briefly looked to make sure no one was still hanging on. Then I pivoted and tossed it onto the roof on the garage. I turned again and without a word gave my three children a quick stare. They stood there motionless and speechless. Without a word, I walked back inside the house.
A few days later, I spotted my three lovely children fighting over something else. I walked over and calmly asked if they needed me to solve the problem. With instantaneous good will, they each insisted the other play first. I smiled and walked away.
The tricycle remained on the roof of the garage for about 3 weeks.
Day 117
This happened when our oldest kids were 6, 4 and 2. We had just moved into a new house. I walked outside to see what they were doing. As the door opened, I was greeted by a loud shrieking wail coming from all three of our children. They had surrounded a plastic tricycle and symotaneously decided to ride it. All three of them had a death grip on the poor thing and were bent on ripping it from the other two. Each of their precious little faces were beat red and twisted in fierce wrath. Occasionally one would let go with one hand to quickly try to quickly hit one of the other two selfish siblings to free their grip from the tricycle.
I was shocked. I couldn't believe my eyes. Our three angelic children were behavior like a ravenous pack of hyenas fighting over a fresh kill.
I yelled, "Hey!" as I marched towards them and the once ravenous pack of hyenas instantly turned into a confused, quiet and stammering little group of kids. As I walked up they suddenly each started telling me that it was their turn to ride the tricycle and the wailing started to commence again.
When I got to them, without a word, I reached down and firmly grabbed the tricycle. With one hand, I lifted it in the air and briefly looked to make sure no one was still hanging on. Then I pivoted and tossed it onto the roof on the garage. I turned again and without a word gave my three children a quick stare. They stood there motionless and speechless. Without a word, I walked back inside the house.
A few days later, I spotted my three lovely children fighting over something else. I walked over and calmly asked if they needed me to solve the problem. With instantaneous good will, they each insisted the other play first. I smiled and walked away.
The tricycle remained on the roof of the garage for about 3 weeks.
Day 117
Friday, April 11, 2014
The Ball Stuck on Lane 11 Story
A few weeks after almost getting killed by a bowling alley machine(See blog 114), I was so thankful that a ball got stuck on lane 11 at the bowling alley I worked at.
I had been the object of ridicule for about 2 weeks at work. My coworkers, rightfully so and in a friendly way, relentlessly teased me about getting eaten by a machine at work. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was working at the bowling alley. My friend, who also worked there and had gotten me my job there, was also there... he was always there. The place was crowded. Every lane was being used. Then, over the loud speaker from the front desk, came those glorious words, "Ball stuck on lane 11."
It was a command given to me to go over to lane 11 and fix the problem. I walked over there and was met by my friend and coworker, who by the way was off duty. My friend, 'John,' got down on his hands and knees and deftly pulled out a section of the approach on lane 11 that was right over where the bowling balls return under the lane. Then he did the inexplicable. He bent over and stuck his head down in the dark hole. I just stood there in amazement and thought, 'No way am I going to stick my head down in that hole!'
Within a few seconds of 'John' doing what I thought was the unthinkable, I heard a thud and 'John' immediately sprawled out flat on his belly on the approach. A bowling ball had violently hit him in the head and knocked him out. I had never seen anyone get knocked out before and I did what I believe most any good friend and coworker would do... I collapsed next to him, lying on my back in convulsive laughter with flowing tears of hilarity. I laid there for quite a while laughing spastically, with my friend laying on his belly, knock out, while his head was still down in the hole. Strangers were awkwardly still bowling around us. Suddenly, the thought occurred to me, 'Is John OK?' I rolled over to my knees and grabbed John by the back of his belt and yanked him backwards, dragging him out of the hole. He was still out cold. He had a golf ball sized lump on is head. Drool was flowing from his mouth.
Just like I had seen in countless westerns, I gave him a few firm smacks on the side on his face to awaken him. It worked! He groggily awoke and my short lived concern was swallowed up by laughter again. I flopped over on my side next to him laughing hard. After a few minutes we both pulled ourselves together. I replaced the section of the lane approach and we walked away from the area. John left and I continued to work that day. I did not receive another ribbing from my coworkers, about being eaten by a machine, from that moment on.
Whenever I hear the words, "Ball stuck on lane ___, " I smile and remember the fun times I had at that job.
Day 116
I had been the object of ridicule for about 2 weeks at work. My coworkers, rightfully so and in a friendly way, relentlessly teased me about getting eaten by a machine at work. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was working at the bowling alley. My friend, who also worked there and had gotten me my job there, was also there... he was always there. The place was crowded. Every lane was being used. Then, over the loud speaker from the front desk, came those glorious words, "Ball stuck on lane 11."
It was a command given to me to go over to lane 11 and fix the problem. I walked over there and was met by my friend and coworker, who by the way was off duty. My friend, 'John,' got down on his hands and knees and deftly pulled out a section of the approach on lane 11 that was right over where the bowling balls return under the lane. Then he did the inexplicable. He bent over and stuck his head down in the dark hole. I just stood there in amazement and thought, 'No way am I going to stick my head down in that hole!'
Within a few seconds of 'John' doing what I thought was the unthinkable, I heard a thud and 'John' immediately sprawled out flat on his belly on the approach. A bowling ball had violently hit him in the head and knocked him out. I had never seen anyone get knocked out before and I did what I believe most any good friend and coworker would do... I collapsed next to him, lying on my back in convulsive laughter with flowing tears of hilarity. I laid there for quite a while laughing spastically, with my friend laying on his belly, knock out, while his head was still down in the hole. Strangers were awkwardly still bowling around us. Suddenly, the thought occurred to me, 'Is John OK?' I rolled over to my knees and grabbed John by the back of his belt and yanked him backwards, dragging him out of the hole. He was still out cold. He had a golf ball sized lump on is head. Drool was flowing from his mouth.
Just like I had seen in countless westerns, I gave him a few firm smacks on the side on his face to awaken him. It worked! He groggily awoke and my short lived concern was swallowed up by laughter again. I flopped over on my side next to him laughing hard. After a few minutes we both pulled ourselves together. I replaced the section of the lane approach and we walked away from the area. John left and I continued to work that day. I did not receive another ribbing from my coworkers, about being eaten by a machine, from that moment on.
Whenever I hear the words, "Ball stuck on lane ___, " I smile and remember the fun times I had at that job.
Day 116
Lousy Quitters
In every class there exist a range of success. Every class has those 'A' students and most every math class has those 'D' and 'F' students and the ones in between.
It is my goal to help each of my students improve. It has been such a great year seeing so many do just that, with God's help. But I still have kids that are struggling. They have had so much time and opportunity to learn enough of what is on my 4 posters (see Poster on home page). I can spot the struggling students in my class so easily. They struggle to pay attention. This is their number 1 visible flaw. Why do they struggle paying attention?... is the question? What can I do to help them? What do they need to change to help themselves?
These low students still don't see themselves as successful math students... so this impacts their attitudes, emotions, efforts, behaviors and therefore their results. It always go back to this core belief. Successful students expects themselves to learn, improve and succeed. Unsuccessful students expect themselves to struggle, be confused and 'not get it.' This core belief causes them to have bad attitudes, poor emotions, inappropriate behavior and therefore receive low grades.
When I give my students a 'problem' they haven't seen before. The successful students are the ones, because of their belief system and their skills, to wrestle with it and solve it. Struggling students, because of their belief system mostly but also their lack of skills, quickly give up. Often times though, the skills needed to solve the problem, the struggling student possess. They are so ingrained in giving up, it is simply who they are, quitters.
I want all of my students to be problem solvers. In this life we will have problems. I want all of my students to be lousy quitters. I want them all to possess the beliefs, attitudes, learning skills, math skills, behaviors of intelligence and problem solving strategies and skills to confidently face problems they will all encounter.
So why do my struggling students have a hard time paying attention?... it is because they expect to not 'get it.' It is such an easy thing to change for so many. It is such a difficult thing to change for these last few. I refuse to give up on them. I talk to them privately before class and encourage them to belief, and try and pay attention each day. I have set them up with a neighbor who is a successful student and talked with them about working well together to make sure everybody is understanding. I talk with them during the period to encourage them to refocus, belief and try. I ask them after class on their way out how they did and/or give the encouragement or praise. I have to be patient. I have to live in 'Hope Land.'
These struggling students need to change their beliefs about their ability to learn and succeed. Then they need to try to learn and use more and more learning skill to succeed. They also need to implement into practice more and more behaviors of intelligence so they minimize the number of mistakes they make once they have learned how to do the problem. I call it Learning Well. First understand the problem conceptually. Can they explain it, talk about it, draw it? Second, they need to be able to show their work clearly and correctly. Third, they need to put into practice as many behaviors of intelligence as possible to eliminate errors. Learning well involves all three of these components. I have it up on the front of my room on a poster and refer to it often.
I want to teach all of my students to be LOUSY QUITTERS
Day 115
It is my goal to help each of my students improve. It has been such a great year seeing so many do just that, with God's help. But I still have kids that are struggling. They have had so much time and opportunity to learn enough of what is on my 4 posters (see Poster on home page). I can spot the struggling students in my class so easily. They struggle to pay attention. This is their number 1 visible flaw. Why do they struggle paying attention?... is the question? What can I do to help them? What do they need to change to help themselves?
These low students still don't see themselves as successful math students... so this impacts their attitudes, emotions, efforts, behaviors and therefore their results. It always go back to this core belief. Successful students expects themselves to learn, improve and succeed. Unsuccessful students expect themselves to struggle, be confused and 'not get it.' This core belief causes them to have bad attitudes, poor emotions, inappropriate behavior and therefore receive low grades.
When I give my students a 'problem' they haven't seen before. The successful students are the ones, because of their belief system and their skills, to wrestle with it and solve it. Struggling students, because of their belief system mostly but also their lack of skills, quickly give up. Often times though, the skills needed to solve the problem, the struggling student possess. They are so ingrained in giving up, it is simply who they are, quitters.
I want all of my students to be problem solvers. In this life we will have problems. I want all of my students to be lousy quitters. I want them all to possess the beliefs, attitudes, learning skills, math skills, behaviors of intelligence and problem solving strategies and skills to confidently face problems they will all encounter.
So why do my struggling students have a hard time paying attention?... it is because they expect to not 'get it.' It is such an easy thing to change for so many. It is such a difficult thing to change for these last few. I refuse to give up on them. I talk to them privately before class and encourage them to belief, and try and pay attention each day. I have set them up with a neighbor who is a successful student and talked with them about working well together to make sure everybody is understanding. I talk with them during the period to encourage them to refocus, belief and try. I ask them after class on their way out how they did and/or give the encouragement or praise. I have to be patient. I have to live in 'Hope Land.'
These struggling students need to change their beliefs about their ability to learn and succeed. Then they need to try to learn and use more and more learning skill to succeed. They also need to implement into practice more and more behaviors of intelligence so they minimize the number of mistakes they make once they have learned how to do the problem. I call it Learning Well. First understand the problem conceptually. Can they explain it, talk about it, draw it? Second, they need to be able to show their work clearly and correctly. Third, they need to put into practice as many behaviors of intelligence as possible to eliminate errors. Learning well involves all three of these components. I have it up on the front of my room on a poster and refer to it often.
I want to teach all of my students to be LOUSY QUITTERS
Day 115
Thursday, April 10, 2014
The bowling Machine Story
I've done a lot of stupid things that have almost killed me... but this time would have been one of the most embarrassing... if that is possible.
I was in 10th grade and I worked at a bowling alley. It was Saturday morning and the first thing I always had to do was clean the wheels on the ball returns in the machines on each alley. The first thing I needed to do was turn off each machine from the back before I went inside them. The switch in the back was the master switch. Each machine could also be turned on and off from the front desk only as long as it was ON in the back. So... I turned off all of the machines from the back this one Saturday except for the last 2, lanes 23 and 24, because they were already OFF... but not turned off in the back!
I had cleaned 23 lanes. I was in the last machine cleaning the last wheel. I thought I was almost done, but unbeknownst to me, an elderly... I mean really elderly couple... had come in to go bowling and were at the front desk getting assigned a lane. Yes, you guessed it right. They got lane 24.
I was laying on my stomach cleaning that last wheel, when all of the sudden the machine sprang to life, with me inside. The first thing that happened was that the lights came flashing on. As they were turning on, the large conveyor belt I was laying on started carrying me to the very back of the machine. With ninja like reflexes, I pivoted and scrambled my way back onto the hardwood deck where the pins get placed without spilling a drop of the solvent from my can. I had a brief moment of relief, but then to my dismay, like stalactites on the ceiling of a cave, the machine started lowering the pins towards me. I simply laid there and cowered, as the pins quickly got closer and closer, expecting to get impaled or seriously crushed in several places. Just before they touched me, the pins stopped coming down at me
and thankfully started going back up.
I knew how the machine would go through a cycle to set the pins, but in that moment of panic, I was only able to think about 2 things. The first was to get out and the second was to not spill the solvent. Every movement and action the machine made surprised me.
Now that the pins were retreating back up, I thought I was home free. All's I had to do was simply crawl out. Again a very brief feeling of relief swept over me as I started crawling out of the machine to my escape. But my happy little feeling of freedom quickly evaporated as the sweep came crashing down right in front of me. I should of known it was going to happen, but I was brain dead and it scared me. To my horror, the sweep was sweeping me back into the very machine I had almost escaped from. I pivoted to me right side and held onto the sweep with my right hand and my precious can of solvent in my left hand. I was briefly swept clear off the hardwood deck back onto the now rapidly moving conveyor belt. Suddenly the sweep became my only ally in the machine and I just held on as tight as I could while the conveyor belt clawed away at the lower half of my body trying to pull me to the back.
When I said the machine came to life... it really felt liked it was alive because it kept surprising me.
The sweep had swept me back inside but then mercifully, it started pulling me back out and came to a stop. I was alive. I was safe. I had not spilled any solvent. I reached out and over the sweep and set down the can of solvent and started climbing over it to my freedom. I was so thankful it was over. I was so proud of how I had kept my cool and reacted so cleverly with such grace and skill.
I was half way over the sweep, when it suddenly started going up... DUH! Like I said... I guess I just went brain dead for a while. It was not over. In fact it had only begun.
The sweep lifted my body up at the waist. The part of the machine that held and set the pins, started pushing my legs down. And oh yes... the machine had a display panel that showed which pins were still standing after your first shot... it rigidly pressed harder and harder down against the center of my back as the sweep lifted me higher and higher.
I was getting crushed by the machine. It squeezing me tighter and tighter... and then it surprisingly came to a stop.
My entire body was gripped by the machine. My head and arms were free. I could thankfully touch the hardwood deck with my finger tips. My chest was compressed, so much by the machine, that I could barely breathe. I was not able to yell for help. I had to hold myself up, Bruce Lee fingertip pushup style, to be able to faintly pant.
I had no thought of the possibility of death at this time. I could pant. I was fine. Someone was going to see me soon. I knew I was going to get rescued soon... or so I thought... at first.
I could see the old couple standing at the front desk. They were just talking away with the lady behind the desk. Normally I would have not have been impatient, but this was not normal. I felt like they talked a long time. Finally, movement, they were walking towards my lane... number 24! Yes!
But then the old guy turned right to go to the bathroom. The old lady walked over to buy some coffee out of a coffee machine. My entire body was wracked in pain but I was only focused on my arms and fingers. I needed them to hold me up enough to continue my faint panting. They were getting tired. It was getting harder to hold myself up.
I tried 'yelling' for help but all that came out of me was a tiny high pitched short little yelp that I could barely hear. I tried flailing with my right arm briefly a few times when it looked like she was looking my way, but that didn't work.
Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I realized that I could die. The weird part was that that could happen real soon in a bowling alley machine. To my utter disappointment, she got up and walked away to look for a ball. I was helpless. I watch, in mute horror and in fading strength, as the 2 oldest bowlers in the world found their balls, took off and put on their shoes and chatted as they got ready to FINALLY bowl.
My arms were violently shaking. I had total lactic acid build up. I was running out of time. The old guy suddenly stepped up onto the approach and picked up his bowling ball.
YES! I was so happy. My strength rallied a little. I tried to 'yell' and I gave a few quick flails with one hand. Then an awful thought came to me. What if he doesn't see me and just walks up and throws that ball bowl down my way? I could just get totally pounded by these pins!
He stood there looking right at me. I gave one more quick flail. Then he turned and put down his bowling ball and walked back to his wife. I could see them talking and looking my way. I was done. I was shaking like a leaf. I couldn't hold out much longer, but I knew now that they saw me. Then he did the old man shuffle walk up to the front desk. Out came the lady from a room behind the front desk and I could see them talking. Then I saw panic on her face as she looked my way. I heard her yell for help and the mechanic came bolting out of that same room. He looked my way, paused momentarily to take in what was going on, and then sprinted across the lanes in a direct line right at me.
RESCUE AT LAST!
It was weird the thoughts of dread that went through my mind when I realized I might die. I kept trying to decide what the headlines would be in the paper about my unusual and untimely death.
TRAGIC TORSO TWIST or maybe FREAK BOWLING ALLEY MACHINE MAHEM.
Either way, I kept thinking about how embarrassing and awkward it was going to be for my parents, if I died this way. I could see my mom walking through some store and have some stranger approach her and ask if she was the poor mother of the young lad who had tragically and inexplicably been eaten by a bowling machine. I could imagine her awkwardly walk past people as they whispered to each other that she was my mother.
The mechanic came running up and quickly reach over to the right side of the display panel and turned a lever and swung up the display panel removing all that pressure off my back. I arched back and upwards and took in a long beautiful and grateful breath. I was alive! I was going to be fine!
He ran to the back and came out with a tool he used to crank the part of the machine down that was crushing my stomach and legs. I soon was freed and slowly was pulled out of the machine. My strength quickly returned and as I stood up I reached with my left hand to massage an ache in my left side. My left hand went deep into my side. I gasped and pulled up my shirt to see. A lot of my left side was gone. It looked liked I had been attached by a shark years ago. My body had molded like play dough around the gears and levers of the machine. It was so cool looking. I wish I had had a cell phone then to take a selfy.
My coworkers teased me for weeks about getting eaten by the machine. That stopped though the day a ball got stuck on lane 11.
Day
I was in 10th grade and I worked at a bowling alley. It was Saturday morning and the first thing I always had to do was clean the wheels on the ball returns in the machines on each alley. The first thing I needed to do was turn off each machine from the back before I went inside them. The switch in the back was the master switch. Each machine could also be turned on and off from the front desk only as long as it was ON in the back. So... I turned off all of the machines from the back this one Saturday except for the last 2, lanes 23 and 24, because they were already OFF... but not turned off in the back!
I had cleaned 23 lanes. I was in the last machine cleaning the last wheel. I thought I was almost done, but unbeknownst to me, an elderly... I mean really elderly couple... had come in to go bowling and were at the front desk getting assigned a lane. Yes, you guessed it right. They got lane 24.
I was laying on my stomach cleaning that last wheel, when all of the sudden the machine sprang to life, with me inside. The first thing that happened was that the lights came flashing on. As they were turning on, the large conveyor belt I was laying on started carrying me to the very back of the machine. With ninja like reflexes, I pivoted and scrambled my way back onto the hardwood deck where the pins get placed without spilling a drop of the solvent from my can. I had a brief moment of relief, but then to my dismay, like stalactites on the ceiling of a cave, the machine started lowering the pins towards me. I simply laid there and cowered, as the pins quickly got closer and closer, expecting to get impaled or seriously crushed in several places. Just before they touched me, the pins stopped coming down at me
and thankfully started going back up.
I knew how the machine would go through a cycle to set the pins, but in that moment of panic, I was only able to think about 2 things. The first was to get out and the second was to not spill the solvent. Every movement and action the machine made surprised me.
Now that the pins were retreating back up, I thought I was home free. All's I had to do was simply crawl out. Again a very brief feeling of relief swept over me as I started crawling out of the machine to my escape. But my happy little feeling of freedom quickly evaporated as the sweep came crashing down right in front of me. I should of known it was going to happen, but I was brain dead and it scared me. To my horror, the sweep was sweeping me back into the very machine I had almost escaped from. I pivoted to me right side and held onto the sweep with my right hand and my precious can of solvent in my left hand. I was briefly swept clear off the hardwood deck back onto the now rapidly moving conveyor belt. Suddenly the sweep became my only ally in the machine and I just held on as tight as I could while the conveyor belt clawed away at the lower half of my body trying to pull me to the back.
When I said the machine came to life... it really felt liked it was alive because it kept surprising me.
The sweep had swept me back inside but then mercifully, it started pulling me back out and came to a stop. I was alive. I was safe. I had not spilled any solvent. I reached out and over the sweep and set down the can of solvent and started climbing over it to my freedom. I was so thankful it was over. I was so proud of how I had kept my cool and reacted so cleverly with such grace and skill.
I was half way over the sweep, when it suddenly started going up... DUH! Like I said... I guess I just went brain dead for a while. It was not over. In fact it had only begun.
The sweep lifted my body up at the waist. The part of the machine that held and set the pins, started pushing my legs down. And oh yes... the machine had a display panel that showed which pins were still standing after your first shot... it rigidly pressed harder and harder down against the center of my back as the sweep lifted me higher and higher.
I was getting crushed by the machine. It squeezing me tighter and tighter... and then it surprisingly came to a stop.
My entire body was gripped by the machine. My head and arms were free. I could thankfully touch the hardwood deck with my finger tips. My chest was compressed, so much by the machine, that I could barely breathe. I was not able to yell for help. I had to hold myself up, Bruce Lee fingertip pushup style, to be able to faintly pant.
I had no thought of the possibility of death at this time. I could pant. I was fine. Someone was going to see me soon. I knew I was going to get rescued soon... or so I thought... at first.
I could see the old couple standing at the front desk. They were just talking away with the lady behind the desk. Normally I would have not have been impatient, but this was not normal. I felt like they talked a long time. Finally, movement, they were walking towards my lane... number 24! Yes!
But then the old guy turned right to go to the bathroom. The old lady walked over to buy some coffee out of a coffee machine. My entire body was wracked in pain but I was only focused on my arms and fingers. I needed them to hold me up enough to continue my faint panting. They were getting tired. It was getting harder to hold myself up.
I tried 'yelling' for help but all that came out of me was a tiny high pitched short little yelp that I could barely hear. I tried flailing with my right arm briefly a few times when it looked like she was looking my way, but that didn't work.
Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I realized that I could die. The weird part was that that could happen real soon in a bowling alley machine. To my utter disappointment, she got up and walked away to look for a ball. I was helpless. I watch, in mute horror and in fading strength, as the 2 oldest bowlers in the world found their balls, took off and put on their shoes and chatted as they got ready to FINALLY bowl.
My arms were violently shaking. I had total lactic acid build up. I was running out of time. The old guy suddenly stepped up onto the approach and picked up his bowling ball.
YES! I was so happy. My strength rallied a little. I tried to 'yell' and I gave a few quick flails with one hand. Then an awful thought came to me. What if he doesn't see me and just walks up and throws that ball bowl down my way? I could just get totally pounded by these pins!
He stood there looking right at me. I gave one more quick flail. Then he turned and put down his bowling ball and walked back to his wife. I could see them talking and looking my way. I was done. I was shaking like a leaf. I couldn't hold out much longer, but I knew now that they saw me. Then he did the old man shuffle walk up to the front desk. Out came the lady from a room behind the front desk and I could see them talking. Then I saw panic on her face as she looked my way. I heard her yell for help and the mechanic came bolting out of that same room. He looked my way, paused momentarily to take in what was going on, and then sprinted across the lanes in a direct line right at me.
RESCUE AT LAST!
It was weird the thoughts of dread that went through my mind when I realized I might die. I kept trying to decide what the headlines would be in the paper about my unusual and untimely death.
TRAGIC TORSO TWIST or maybe FREAK BOWLING ALLEY MACHINE MAHEM.
Either way, I kept thinking about how embarrassing and awkward it was going to be for my parents, if I died this way. I could see my mom walking through some store and have some stranger approach her and ask if she was the poor mother of the young lad who had tragically and inexplicably been eaten by a bowling machine. I could imagine her awkwardly walk past people as they whispered to each other that she was my mother.
The mechanic came running up and quickly reach over to the right side of the display panel and turned a lever and swung up the display panel removing all that pressure off my back. I arched back and upwards and took in a long beautiful and grateful breath. I was alive! I was going to be fine!
He ran to the back and came out with a tool he used to crank the part of the machine down that was crushing my stomach and legs. I soon was freed and slowly was pulled out of the machine. My strength quickly returned and as I stood up I reached with my left hand to massage an ache in my left side. My left hand went deep into my side. I gasped and pulled up my shirt to see. A lot of my left side was gone. It looked liked I had been attached by a shark years ago. My body had molded like play dough around the gears and levers of the machine. It was so cool looking. I wish I had had a cell phone then to take a selfy.
My coworkers teased me for weeks about getting eaten by the machine. That stopped though the day a ball got stuck on lane 11.
Day
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Animal Noise Story
Years ago I taught at Marcus Whitman JH. I taught on the second floor. There were a couple of years where a few of the teachers on the second floor would bring me their challenging students during my class for me to deal with. They felt like they got better results with me than with the principal or vice-principal. I treated each case different and totally impromptu.
I believe that punishment needs to be immediate and painful to be effective. Painful does not necessarily mean physical. I mainly used humor and a little public humiliation to change behavior. My students helped with the public humiliation part and really enjoyed watching. Whenever a teacher brought in a student for me to 'deal with' my students would get very excited to see what was going to happen.
Well... one day a teacher, who happened to be my most frequent flyer, burst into my room and announced in an exceedingly frustrated tone, "Johnny won't stop making animal noises!" and then she left. Like an audience watching the Christians get thrown to the lions, all of my students gleefully took notice to see what I would do. I had no idea what I would do... but knew I wanted to have fun doing it.
I walked over to 'Johnny', clasped my hands together and tilted them to one side and asked in a tone dripping with concern, "So... what seems to be the issue."
All my students laughed.
Johnny replied, "I didn't do anything wrong."
I calmly explained that we weren't going to get anywhere until he admitted what his issue was.
All my students laughed.
Johnny said, "I don't know what you are talking about."
I patiently pointed out to Johnny that his teacher was obviously very upset and said that he was making animals noises. I asked Johnny again, in as sincere of a counsellor tone as I could muster, "Is making animals noises in your class the issue?"
All my students laughed.
Johnny said, "No."
I told Johnny we weren't getting anywhere, (more laughter). I told Johnny that I thought I knew what the really issue was. I waited for effect. Then I told him that I thought he made animals noises because he wanted attention. In disciplining, I have found that giving in excess what a student thinks they wants usually works really well.
I told Johnny, "We are all here for you. If you want attention, you can have it. If you want to make animals noises, we would all be happy to here some." Then I slid into an empty seat in the front row and left Johnny all alone in the front of the class. I turned to the class and asked, "What animal noise would you all like to here first?" I got all kinds of responses from monkey to elephants, so I turned to Johnny and said, "Let's just start off with something simple. Give us a dog."
Johnny said, "Woof." weakly. I was very disappointed with Johnny and I let him now it. I told Johnny, "We are expected a lot more from you than that. You have been practicing. Now try again."
All my students laughed.
Johnny said, "Woof." weakly again. I sat up straight and sternly told him, "If you don't start doing a better job, I am going to give you a detention. I want to hear a mad ferocious dog." At this point, I pulled up my left pant leg, slouched in my desk, and stuck out my leg as far as I could at him, closed my eyes and ordered, "Make my think you are going to rip off my leg!"
All my student laughed. Johnny just stood there.
I sat up in my desk and told him, "Johnny, you are really disappointing me. We are here for you. You want attention. You like making animal noises to get attention. We are asking you to make animal noises for us. What is wrong?"
All my students laughed. Johnny asked, "Can I sit down now."
Before I let him sit down, I demonstrated the cow, elephant, turkey, cat and of course... the mad ferocious dog.
My students all laughed. Johnny got the point. I let Johnny sit down and Johnny gave me a knowing and thankful smile.
His teacher never had any trouble with him making animals noises in class again after that.
Day 113
I believe that punishment needs to be immediate and painful to be effective. Painful does not necessarily mean physical. I mainly used humor and a little public humiliation to change behavior. My students helped with the public humiliation part and really enjoyed watching. Whenever a teacher brought in a student for me to 'deal with' my students would get very excited to see what was going to happen.
Well... one day a teacher, who happened to be my most frequent flyer, burst into my room and announced in an exceedingly frustrated tone, "Johnny won't stop making animal noises!" and then she left. Like an audience watching the Christians get thrown to the lions, all of my students gleefully took notice to see what I would do. I had no idea what I would do... but knew I wanted to have fun doing it.
I walked over to 'Johnny', clasped my hands together and tilted them to one side and asked in a tone dripping with concern, "So... what seems to be the issue."
All my students laughed.
Johnny replied, "I didn't do anything wrong."
I calmly explained that we weren't going to get anywhere until he admitted what his issue was.
All my students laughed.
Johnny said, "I don't know what you are talking about."
I patiently pointed out to Johnny that his teacher was obviously very upset and said that he was making animals noises. I asked Johnny again, in as sincere of a counsellor tone as I could muster, "Is making animals noises in your class the issue?"
All my students laughed.
Johnny said, "No."
I told Johnny we weren't getting anywhere, (more laughter). I told Johnny that I thought I knew what the really issue was. I waited for effect. Then I told him that I thought he made animals noises because he wanted attention. In disciplining, I have found that giving in excess what a student thinks they wants usually works really well.
I told Johnny, "We are all here for you. If you want attention, you can have it. If you want to make animals noises, we would all be happy to here some." Then I slid into an empty seat in the front row and left Johnny all alone in the front of the class. I turned to the class and asked, "What animal noise would you all like to here first?" I got all kinds of responses from monkey to elephants, so I turned to Johnny and said, "Let's just start off with something simple. Give us a dog."
Johnny said, "Woof." weakly. I was very disappointed with Johnny and I let him now it. I told Johnny, "We are expected a lot more from you than that. You have been practicing. Now try again."
All my students laughed.
Johnny said, "Woof." weakly again. I sat up straight and sternly told him, "If you don't start doing a better job, I am going to give you a detention. I want to hear a mad ferocious dog." At this point, I pulled up my left pant leg, slouched in my desk, and stuck out my leg as far as I could at him, closed my eyes and ordered, "Make my think you are going to rip off my leg!"
All my student laughed. Johnny just stood there.
I sat up in my desk and told him, "Johnny, you are really disappointing me. We are here for you. You want attention. You like making animal noises to get attention. We are asking you to make animal noises for us. What is wrong?"
All my students laughed. Johnny asked, "Can I sit down now."
Before I let him sit down, I demonstrated the cow, elephant, turkey, cat and of course... the mad ferocious dog.
My students all laughed. Johnny got the point. I let Johnny sit down and Johnny gave me a knowing and thankful smile.
His teacher never had any trouble with him making animals noises in class again after that.
Day 113
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