One can tell that Summer is coming...

Okay... its probably a little early to be writing about Summer, yet... here I am. You see, historically around the end of March, first of April, educators (whom I work with) begin to completely freak out! You see for 7 months they have not, in any way, noticed that certain of their students are struggling. Suddenly, as the first burst of warm weather hits, they are struck by the fact that little "Johnny", who has been suspended 4 times, failed to turn in any homework, and performed terribly on the Iowa test of basic skills; is in URGENT need of being assessed for problems. And if little "Johnny" does not get HELP RIGHT NOW, he is going to be a complete failure for the rest of his life.

Johnny, on the other hand, thinks things are great. The sun is warm, the playground is fun, and his friends have something now called "cigarettes" that may be very interesting. See everything is new here.? This is where my life suddenly becomes rather...errr... complicated.

E-mails suddenly begin to flood my in-box. Referrals for testing pile high on my desk. My phone rings endlessly with educators asking when I will get off my lazy butt and take care of little "Johnnies" that are multiplying by the dozens. *Sigh*

I remember when I was Johnny. I was a late-blooming Johnny developmentally. I waited until my final year of High School to send my choir instructor into a tizzy. I was also something of a spazz. I was rather "giddy" one day when the principal, assistant principal, and campus police officer pulled me from choir class. They all insisted that I "breath" into their faces. After each successively smelled my breath and shook their head they told me to get back to class. NOpe.. not drunk... just a spaz. They were smelling for alcohol. An earlier incident gave them reason to be suspicious (that is another blog post) but I was just a retarded teenager with Summer-fever hitting into high gear.

Perhaps I needed someone like me to evaluate me, and tell me that my choir teacher was an overzealous, summer-fever infested idiot? I'd like to think that I do that for some students (let them know that the adults are sometimes completely batshit stupid). As a matter of fact, I have. Good for me! Good for the kid! Good for the teacher (reality is always the best medicine)!

Happy Summer-fever (coming soon to a town near you).

HH

Random thoughts from an IPOD induced buzz...

A recent post from Shane really made my ponder. The image above gives me chills, a genuine sensation of peace, and justs plain soothes my empirical soul. Does this come from some ineffable place hidden deep within the primal part of my amygdala? Is this a purely ethereal experience that I can but describe to you without any pretense of true empathy by you? Can "we" ever truly have understanding of common experiences? Does it really even matter?

My son is outside playing with a neighborhood friend. He and I are much alike. We seek solitude often. The wife and I have worried that his propensity for solitude may stifle his need to seek out time to engage and learn socialization. The wife points to me as a prime reason why he ought to get out more often. She may be on to something there.? However, he always befriends others who are more passive and allow him to dominate them. His current ami is a wonderful kid who is compassionate, socially skilled, and shy.

The market is beginning to worry me. I haven't been actively trading, but the two rather epic days in which the worldwide markets plunged 3 and 2 percent respectively are signaling something. Just wish I could say what that is. For the meantime, I am putting my money into very safe places, and will wait it out.

The weather is beginning to warm up. I downloaded a number of podcasts, (some from here) and have spent most of my day walking around the house/neighborhood listening and completing chores. The IPOD era really is working for me. I don't get bored very much. However, there are some who find my listening habits amusing.

My daughter has gymnastics practice 4 days a week (4.25 hours a session). I pick her up 2 times a week. I love to go and observe the last hour of her practice. As I watch, I have my ear-buds in, and my music/podcast going. I often stand as far from the other parents as possible. This has lead many to remark that I do this just to avoid conversation. They couldn't be more half-right. However, every person who makes this remark sees no contradiction in interrupting my listening/observation to chat with me. If this were my intent don't you think they would get the hint and not talk to me? Yet, it never fails. I spend the rest of my time listening to their issues (most are aware of my profession). Any suggestions about how to politely let them know to Fuck-off would be appreciated. ;). So, can they understand how this truly makes me feel? The Evidence suggests they just don't give a poop.

Hap