Well, this is only partially random, but I’m sort of stuck with that appellation for a collection of thoughts. Anyway, over the last couple of instances of Random Thoughts – all of them actually – there seems to be a common theme of opposition to authority, not always necessarily rationally. Since, unlike 30% of the population apparently (REALLY?!?! must be lonely in there…), I have a nearly constant internal monologue, I think through scenarios when otherwise occupied. The whole notion of reflexive defiance led me down many paths, but one was recalling several manifestations from my youth, not as explanatory of cause and effect necessarily, but fun stories nonetheless. So here’s a collection of three stories of “Oppositional Defiant Disorder in Catholic School” – that sounds like the ‘plot’ for a porn movie.
My parents were worried about the quality of the public schools – not necessarily correctly given this was late 70s in small town Wisconsin, but that meant that, despite being relatively poor, they sprang for my brother and I to attend a small Catholic school, even if my mother was Catholic in name only and my father a Lutheran and church played no role in their lives. Anyway, said Catholic school was about 1-2 miles from our house and we walked both ways generally (yes, uphill and in snow both ways), perhaps helping develop that inner monologue along with a generally healthy physical condition. I attended this school from 1st to 5th grade at which point, rather than go on to the Catholic high school track, we transferred over the public Junior High. As you might imagine, Catholic school provide ample opportunity for an asshole^H^H^H^H I mean fiercely independent kid to butt heads with authority. Herein lies 3 tales of said butt.
Item the 1st – On the Origin of the Secret Police
So this is the earliest manifestation of my apparent problem with traffic control. Near where we would cross the street for the final block to school (assuming we didn’t go the back way – heh – through the woods), the school stationed crossing guards, manned by some of the older kids. Yeah, yeah, you already know where this is going. Of course I’m not going to cross with the crossing guards. So I made it a point to cross the street a block south of the controlled intersection in full view of said crossing guards. Of course, as I’d pass them “You have to cross up here, with us!” “No I don’t, why would I have to do that?”
After two or three instances, I get summoned to the principals office. Yes, the little fucking Eichmanns reported me to the principal. Talk about getting your NKVD on early kids! Should have been an early lesson in how totalitarianism happens – the subjects are all too willing to become the enforcers, with only the minimal reward of a snazzy uniform (or at least orange vest) and, probably much more profound, the little frisson of pleasure at the execution of little bit of power over your fellow man. I don’t really recall the gist of the conversation with the principal other than the usual defiance. And I probably went the back way a bit more often after that – huh, maybe that explains certain future proclivities… – but I did continue to cross a block south of the check-point. There was one or two more trips to the principals office, but I never crossed with the crossing guards, so presumably there was nothing they could do except try to threaten me into compliance. Which, as you might discern, actually had exactly the opposite of the intended effect.
Item the 2nd – On the Origin of the Food Police
(Sorry, couldn’t find a music link relevant to the content, so you get one I’m currently trying to ‘prefect’ on gee-tar. Where perfect means reduce the butchery, even if only on the margins.)
This takes place in the Catholic Schools lunch room. You know the drill, come into the gym, get into line, have stuff put on your tray/plate, go sit down, try to choke it down (always with these porn references…). To prevent you from throwing food out – children were starving in Africa and me not throwing food away was somehow going to alleviate that issue doncha know – they had someone at the trash can where you returned your tray making sure your plate was clean. Anyway – in line and there was some sort of casserole thing, not sure if tuna your whatever, just a mound of pasta (maybe) and some meat (or at least meat like substance; maybe) glued together by some thick slimy ‘gravy’ or ‘sauce’ or…. anyway, I’m pretty sure it came directly from the ‘digestate out’ pipe. I just said “no thanks, I don’t want any” “But Lil’ Putrid, you must!” “I don’t want any, I’ll just throw it away!” “Lil’ Putrid, you must take some and you cannot throw it away!” PLOP!
I studiously avoided eating the slop, and, not being confrontational (no really), was trying to wait for a brief distraction at the trash can to sneak past the beautiful young lady guarding it – OK, that last was editorial prerogative, you can stereotypically imagine who would be guarding the lunch trash can at a small catholic school and you’d be very close to reality. Unfortunately, no opportunity was presenting itself and lunch period was nearing the end when I would be even more conspicuous. So slowly off to the trash can to try and surreptitiously dispose of the luke-warm, congealing cat food. Almost, turn your back, good… GO NOW! “LIL’ PUTRID! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?! DON’T YOU KNOW KIDS ARE STARVING IN AFRICA?!?!” Sigh. “Sit down and finish.” “But I didn’t want it…” “EAT IT!” – No comment. Now there was no escaping it, all the beady little eyes were on me. But now defiance had fully set in.
So end of lunch period rolls around, and still I sit in front my slowing curing cement mound. Ten minutes into the standoff, I think it was understood that I wasn’t budging and they wanted to clean up, so the principal was summoned, principal being a 40 something Catholic nun in full garb. I know, I know, this sounds like the setup for some Anime PrOn story, but trust me, it ain’t. So that’s how I end up sitting in the principals office with a cafeteria tray in front of me. An hour or two passes – “Don’t you want to go outside for recess with your friends? Just eat the food.” The principal’s office overlooks the playground and the windows are open, so the sound of playful laughter and freedom ring through the office. Ha, but I have a secret weapon! I have no friends, your bribes and taunts are fruitless! Ha-Ha. Oh wait… Recess passes. “Eat the food.” “I don’t want to. I told them not to give it to me they did anyway. I’m not eating it”. “Just take one bite, that’s all” – HA! We’re down to negotiating conformity, “just let us win. that’s all we ask” – I HAVE THEM NOW!! – “No, I told you, not eating it!”. End of school day nears. “Just take a bite!” (She looks down at the frigid congealed mass of cement in front of me… “I’ll even heat it up for you!” “No”. But off to rectory (nunnery?) we go, heated up on the stove. “Here, just a bite.” “No”. We sit. School day is ending. It is realized that this standoff will not be resolved peacefully and maybe they can’t keep me too much longer. With a disappointed sigh at the depths of my depravity and failure – “You may leave”.
Item the 3rd – On the Origins of a Serial Killer
I’m not really sure what grade this was – second maybe? In any case a grade in which one of your assignments was to complete a connect-the-dots, color it, caption and label it (the more labels the better); who knows, might have been high school senior. Anyway. The connect-the-dots was pretty obviously a young boy bending down in front of a young demure lass in a field of flowers – facing her you pre-verts. Clearly a young boy picking flowers to give to the girl. All nice and wholesome. So everyone dutifully completed the picture, drew in some flowers and captioned it “Here’s some nice flowers for you!” “Oh, thank you!” Now do you think Lil’ Putrid did the same? Well, if you’ve been paying attention, you know the answer to that one. Sigh.
So.
Completed the little boy and girl outlines. Colored it beautifully (I don’t actually remember – probably pretty sloppy), and… drew in a baseball bat where the flowers were supposed to be and wrote the caption. “I’m going to bash your brains in, Jill!” with her screaming “AHHHHHHH!” Right. Hand it in, class ends and off to next period. Half way through the next class. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! “Oh, come in Teacher From Last Period! What to you need?” “I need to talk to Lil’ Putrid for a moment”. You can imagine the ‘discussion’ that followed. It didn’t help that I had, without intention, used a generic girls name in my labeling that happened to correspond to a girl in the class. “WTF is wrong with you Lil’ Putrid?” (or words to that effect). “And why do you want to hurt Jill?” Through my blubbering – yes I was blubbering, I was after all only a senior in high school – I manage to convince her that the naming was all a coincidence, didn’t even think of it. But that still left the “WTF is wrong with you Lil’ Putrid?” hanging in the air, unanswered. Fortunately, this was a small town school in the late 70s, so I was not remanded to state custody and drugged up. No, my punishment was worse. “Take this home to your mother with this note, have her sign it to verify you showed it to her and bring it back tomorrow.” Well, you know that feeling of dread, knowing the world is about to end, but not knowing how to prevent it? That was me for the rest of the day. I may have even used the cross walks on the way home I was so distraught.
Well, no avoiding it. That afternoon, I hand it over to my mom. She reads the note. Then takes the drawing up, looks over it. I see her face twitching. Oh shit, I’m fucked. Then she just bursts out laughing. As an aside, we might now have some insight into the origin my oppositional defiant disorder. After a short quiz and conversation to verify that I wasn’t a budding violent psychopath, the note and picture were signed and remanded to me. Turned it in the next day and nothing more was heard of it. I don’t know what conversations may have gone on behind the scenes between parents and/or teachers, but it never came up again to my knowledge.
Sometimes, I’m very appreciative of the era and environment I grew up in.
You know the drill, come into the gym, get into line, have stuff put on your tray/plate, go sit down, try to choke it down
They provided you with food and you didn’t have to pay for it? Luxury! In Catholic Grade school we had to bring our own or go hungry. Catholic high school we could buy food there (marginally edible, and no meat on Fridays) or bring our own.
Oh, we actually paid, but if I recall it was bring a lunch money envelope for the week on Monday and hand it to the teacher. I think there was also an internal ‘let it slide’ for the poorest of the parishioners.
I worked in the high school cafeteria in 11/12th grade. Free food and all you could eat. The food was as good as we ate at home. First week we worked @ .20 an hour, busted our butts washing dishes. I organized a strike and we got bumped up to .30 per hour. Now we’re talking. My folks loved that they didn’t have to come up with 70 cents on Monday for a week’s meal ticket, plus I was earning my own spending money, $3 @ week.
I attended 1st and 2nd grades less than a 1/4 mile from my house. One of the chefs was my neighbor, Fay. Fay was an awesome cook. I still remember her mac ‘n’ cheese. Then I went to 3rd grade in the small city. The food was not as good.
I disdain authoritah as much as the next curmudgeon but I dislike drama even more so… yeah, I would just cross where told and move on with my day.
I am disappoint. Thing is, I don’t like ‘drama’ either. Really. I guess I just hate authority even more, especially if unearned and arbitrary.
I was a painfully shy introvert if that helps. The idea of “talking back” to anyone was completely foreign to me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I was a painfully shy introvert
Me too. To the degree that if I needed to talk to a cashier or get a bus ticket or anything really, my brother would have to do it for me. I’d prefer to miss out rather than talk to someone. Guess that sort of indicates how strongly I dislike being told what to do – that’s the only thing that would get me out of my shell.
I’m still a painfully shy introvert.
The necessity of being an adult has allowed me to force myself to act when necessary, though I still avoid it. (If I didn’t run meetings, they would never end and I would be stuck forever, so I took over and got myself out of there quicker)
Hm. Nope, didn’t have that problem at all.
Maybe you’re just an asshole. 🙂
Rhy – *NOW* you’re catching on.
I never talked back as a kid. Nor as an adult, honestly. “Anger,” as an emotional state, is not one that really ‘feel,’ honestly. It just doesn’t happen. (I certainly feel it intellectually, but no hormonal flood.) The only times I remember yelling are in fights/ ‘arguments’ with then-current girlfriends.
Unless you need the adrenaline rush cuz something is trying to kill you, anger is a pretty worthless, and often (usually?) a detrimental feeling. Having said that, cuz I never get that sensation, perhaps I’m the one missing out.
After two stories, I’m sensing a theme….
I went to public school where nobody gave a shit if I got run over or cleaned my plate. So I never had to deal with these little melodramas.
*squints*
This was definitely written by AI.
Yep. 💯
I’m not sure if I should be honored or upset. But I’ll settle on the former for now.
Now to go work on ‘item the second’ music link…
😉
Cool music until the dude starts screaming/singing
screaming/singing
Used to hate that; started growing on me with Opeth since the music was very interesting to me. Now I kind of like it in very limited circumstances, Amorphis being one of the few others. Both those guys (Amorphis and Opeth) can actually sing quite well in ‘normal’ voice, so that kind of helps for me – I know they can sing, they just choose the harsh vocals for a reason.
Plus I like Rush, so my taste in vocals is suspect. Right Mike S.?
Now I’m intrigued… Ah… we used call that cookie-monster.
I actually like some screamo but this is a different beast. This track is nice but… yeah, I don’t really like the cookie-monster parts.
Hier is a similar example of this phenomenon, auf deutsch. The growly stuff is his usual vocals but sometimes he busts out a very pleasant normal vocal.
It all sounds like this to me
https://youtu.be/WADa5ItkV6o
LOL I was almost expecting the South Park where everything literally sounds like shit.
New B&B soon.
Rush.
Gross.
I also need a “I Survived Catholic School” bumper sticker. It would not please my wife in the slightest however.
I graduated with 50 Christian gentlemen. I knew for damn sure I was going to a big college where nobody knew who the hell anybody was and women would (mostly) be an added bonus.
OTH, I don’t think anything like my very classical education exists any more. It has actually served me well.
OTH, I don’t think anything like my very classical education exists any more. It has actually served me well.
“The Trivium” by Sister Miriam Joseph was a mind-altering book.
When 16 year old spawn of Juris came to live with us, he was signed up for Catholic HS since the public HS district we lived in was very, uh, diverse (and not particularly academically rigorous). He bitched for two years about uniforms, conformity, etc. and then after graduation was accepted into University of Portland, a school run by the same branch of the Church that runs Notre Dame. And there, by the grace of the god I don’t particularly believe in, he got his shit together.
You forgot to add “and we did it barefoot.”
We got the newspaper, so I could wrap my feet, just like Mr. Meat.
My favorite was the Sunday edition. It came with all those glossy ads. They were a little more water resistant and lasted longer. Anyway, it was all good training for when I ran away to Alaska.
In Tucson we lived 3.1 miles from the Catholic School I was sentenced to. I, and hundreds of my classmates rode our bikes, both ways in the Sonoran Desert heat and cold because we weren’t going to ride the school bus. Why? Parents who said, “Why should we pay for them to ride a bus when they all have bicycles?” AND “Only the little kids ride the bus.” from our classmates.
Lunch was brought from home and bartered in the Social Hall/lunch hall. Once a month was “Hot Dog Day” to raise funds for something or other.
You know , of course, PM, those personality conflicts have been duly noted on your permanent record and will follow you for the rest of your life. You may laugh and scoff but one day there will be a reckoning, a confrontation with authority and you’ll be confronted with your permanent record.
I would not want to be in your shoes.
“Did you or did you not cross at the correct crossings?” You may squirm and look away but it’s all there, on your permanent record.
True story: In 6th Grade I was the captain of the school patrol, for the full year. A .6score, I was the main man, wore a leather belt while my underlings had white cloth belts. My first taste of power and I loved it.
Most important thing I did: A woman fell down on the ice and broke her arm while waiting for the street car. She gave me a phone number that I had to memorize, I ran to the school office, gave the secretary or first grown up I saw the phone number to call and tell the people that their mother or employee had fallen and needed help.
I earned my stripes the hard way. I’m just now checking in my book to see if PM’s name and offense(s) are listed.
Were you also a graduate of Camp Legioneville?
I joined the NG between 11-12th grade but didn’t go to summer camp until after graduation. Sort of like Camp Legion, I guess.
I was a crossing guard captain. We went to Camp Legionville, which was run by the Minnesota Highway Patrol, to learn the ins and outs of getting kids across the street. That said, since I myself had to walk 6 blocks to school, all while traversing the first 5 crossings on my lonesome or with whatever reprobates we met up with along the way to school, it always struck me as funny that we had crossing guards at all. I wouldn’t have turned in Lil’ Putrid.
Rules are Rules… But I’m lazy. You crossed outside my specific jurisdiction, I’m not going to do anything.
All so bizarre to me. I did get a ride in 1st and 2nd grade but 3rd grade I mostly walked, a mile and a half in the “inner city” and not a crossing guard in sight. I used to love hanging out in the pet store on my way home. I skipped the strip club, though. It was the late 70s FWIW.
My daughter was a crossing guard at her public elementary school. One day another mother got out of her car, physically picked up my daughter (and her flag), moved her to the other side of the road, then got back in her car and drove through.
When I heard that, the Papa Bear Rage rose to unseen levels. Luckily, the principal calmed me down.
You didn’t properly arm your daughter to open that woman’s throat when she performed a physical assault?
I was jealous of the Catholic kids in public school. They got extra days off and came back to school with cool ash on their forhead.
I grew up in a heavily Catholic area – even in public school half the kids had that. Maybe even me on odd years.
My first experience with that was when I was 14, working the register at McDonalds… Couldn’t figure out why so many people have grey shit on their foreheads, and they’re all ordering fish sandwiches for some reason.
The grade school was right across the street from the Lutheran church and affiliated buildings. Tuesdays after lunch we all got excused to go to Bible School for maybe an hour of class time. Most of the kids were Lutherans, a few went to the local Methodist or Presbyterian places. Fourscores were more like the Church of the Flying Spaghetti but we went to the Lutheran bible school to get out of class. There was 1 Catholic girl in my class, she had to stay in the classroom ’cause Catholics kids didn’t have a Tuesday religious training session.
The Mormon kids in high school can in an hour early and did whatever it is they do before them came to class.
I generally behaved in school and so was given a lot of freedom by my parents and teachers. It was like figuring out how to escape a Chinese finger trap.
There were times when I didn’t behave:
-I escaped from pre-school and walked home. I took my place at the end of the line and ran out the exit when everyone was looking the other way. My mom was quite surprised to see me. The teacher didn’t take it so well.
-In 6th grade, I was shanghaied into doing the morning announcements. I asked if I could do a movie review. They foolishly agreed, not knowing my favorite tv show at the time was The Critic. It was fun to yell “It Stinks!” and here it echo throughout the school along with the laughter of many children, but it nearly got me impeached as class president.
In other news, Welding Master Yoda says I turned a corner tonight and finally learned to tie in beads properly. Everything’s easy when you know what to do.
I half-heartedly participated in a bullying incident with some pals once in 4th or 5th grade. It was my one and only visit to the principal’s office. I was mortified.
“I generally behaved in school and so was given a lot of freedom by my parents and teachers.” THIS. My high school was the first public charter school in Indiana, and one of the best in the nation. I was a good student and was an active participant. I was always nice to folk, no ‘demerits’ or anything like that.
This bought me the benefit of the doubt, or rather, I never was the sore thumb stickin’ out. Our school was different, with ‘lunch’ being brown bags and the freedom to wander Main Street and go to the nearby Subway and other nearby restaurants. I had an 90-min study hall senior year, and a few times I would take orders from other kids and drive to McDonald’s or wherever, pick up orders and deliver.
Being good (enough) lets you get away with a lot of shit. It’s like highway driving. It’s nice to have a nearby car going faster than you. Let them be the first to alert spying authorities! I’ll just zip right on by! (Just a liiiiitle bit slower than that dude, but quicker in the end!)
Alas, I have no tales of youthful rebellion, as I was a Little Miss Goody Two Shoes.* 😞 The only incident that comes to mind was in third or fourth grade when I got bored during the painfully slow but apparently obligatory “take turns reading aloud from the Reading book” torture session. I found a story further back in the book about Louisa May Alcott and started reading that to myself instead, so of course I was called on to read from the other story and had no idea where they had left off. I don’t recall being punished, just embarrassed. I’m boring like that, and obviously not cut out for a life of crime.
*linking the obvious and obligatory to beat PON to the punch.
Yah.
I even flirted with stealing during my teen years but I was such a fucking nerd it was books from the bookstore.
I got caught stealing a comic book as a youngster, maybe 9 or 10yo. I don’t recall the specifics, but Dad somehow found out and drove me back and had me walk in to return it. I wish I remember that better. It was a bit of Family Lore for a bit, pretty much the only time I was ever publicly in trouble. As a kid. The only time I’ve technically been in trouble was when I finished my last contract in Korea. That eventually involved a summoning to the police station for a formal interrogation with the cops. (I had an appointment!) My boss’ mom’s faked a fall during an argument I had with my boss and filing a complaint to implicate me as if I pushed grandma down.
Stres$ful and unpleasant, but even the cops agreed with me after looking at the CCTV. The process is the punishment.
Porn movie.
I thought they were going to break into this for a moment. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TSM0jj-hZtw&pp=ygUXbm8gcXVhcnRlciBsZWQgemVwcGVsaW7SBwkJrQkBhyohjO8%3D
We had one very cruel teacher when I was in 5th grade. If somebody pissed her off she would make them stand and have everybody in a very full Catholic area classroom say something bad about them. Later when I read about communist societies, I recognized what we had suffered through.
Sure enough one day a friend upset her about something and the criticism session started. When it came time I said, “I agree with him.” and boom there were now two of us standing there. I went home afterwards and told my parents and to this day I do not know what my father said, but I never had to criticize a classmate or stand there.
Single female older Catholic school teachers are not to be trusted.
Sister Mary Agony?
No. A non-nun. We did have our own versions of Sister May Agony, but this horrible person was not one.
I hated Jr High.
Particularly 7th grade English class. They failed to teach me to spell in the previous six years and wanted me to diagram sentences then.
What BS.
I eventually made it my mission that no one in the class was going to learn a damn thing. I’m not sure the girls volleyball coach could have taught anyone a thing anyway but I took up the mission.
After she grabbed my ear in the hall one day I decked her.
She must not have said a thing about it as no punishment came of it. I called her a bitch after the punch and left.
I believe I stayed home or left early over 30 days that year.
I still hope she meets a terrible end. I say her out with her own kids when I was in college. They looked meek and abused.
I’m not sure the girls volleyball coach could have taught anyone a thing anyway but I took up the mission.
Good god, I’ll be damned if the worst teachers weren’t the coaches who had to teach a class or two of something or another. Trying to learn math from an asshole football coach is probably why I hated math for so much of my life.
Middle school is Exhibit A in the fuckery of education. OK, we’ve got hundreds of kids simultaneously going through the biggest change possible in their physical existence, and ya know what we’re gonna do?! Fucking put them all in one place so their insanity can fester and feed and compound with their equally fucked peers! All confused about the new gravity their balls have discovered, confused with such perkiness budding in.. those cuties over there… SHE LOOKED AT ME!
*Tries to vigorously masturbate, bursts before fly unzipped* Bummer.
In most human societies, a person would be considered a low-ranking adult when they reached early teens (e.g. a bar/bat mitzvah is at 13). Around that time they would start working with the adults in a “rookie” or apprentice role (a small number of upper-class kids would continue schooling though).
Thus, those crazy hormonal years would be spent mostly around other adults, not other kids. They’re looking for people to idolize at that age, and historically that would have been other working people in their community. Today, the role models are the coolest kid in class – or more recently with social media, whatever accursed “influencer” is popular. I don’t think it’s a surprise that most of the acting out begins at that age. Their brain is trying to develop into an adult brain, but they’re pretty much being treated the same as children.
tl;dr: Make Child Labor Great Again
When I ponder what sort of people might have liked jr high, nothing good comes to mind. In 7th grade, I had to get an IQ test and psych eval as part of a follow up since I got discovered as being “gifted” in 2nd grade. When I was asked what I would change about school, I said “mandatory attendance”. I stand by that answer.
In my brief experience (about 3 months) of teaching in US middle and high schools, I saw a vicious cycle whereby a handful of poorly behaved students force the teachers to run their classrooms like prisons to the detriment of everyone including the teachers. For far too many students, schools are just places where they spend 12 years pretending to learn at great expense until they are old enough to work, etc.
I did my best to create a positive learning environment, and it was a valiant but doomed uphill battle. Teaching overseas was far more enjoyable.
As for Tripacer, be thankful you did not grow up in Tanzania or another country where beating students with sticks until they cry is common. I intervened to stop that once. There were also school riots to get revenge on overly strict teachers. Trying to defuse those was dicey.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jb5GU3fBQRQ
For far too many students, schools are just places where they spend 12 years pretending to learn at great expense until they are old enough to work, etc.
I honestly believe that for all but the most high-performing students, K-12 is a waste of time after they have covered basic literacy and math. Bryan Kaplan’s book “The Case Against Education” had good statistics in it about how little is retained of K-12 topics into adulthood (other than the two I mentioned). Most Americans can’t tell you when the Civil War happened, how the water cycle works, or how to expand a quadratic equation.
14-year olds can and do hold jobs, but they’re also mandated to spend most of their day in school learning (probably) useless bullshit that won’t be retained anyway. They could at least be learning on the job how to show up on time, get along with bosses and co-workers, and whatever type of work it is they’re doing.
You fascinate me. “Mandatory attendance” is evil, yet you join the military. I guess you ‘joined,’ you weren’t conscripted, but having the anti-authority mindset, see PutridMeat and others’ comments therein, ya still sign up to enter another world of rights, where “Freedom” certainly ain’t one of them.
I detest *and* understand Asian tiger-parenting, but there’s strict wisdom to it. (S Korea also has the highest suicide rate in the world.) For a part-time something, I did glorified after school daycare with a nearby school in an affluent community, further cementing why I can’t work in US education. Told my voca dude today: “They wouldn’t *have* me.”
My teaching highlight: In Singapore, we did one:one Level Testing with kids, 3-12yo, mostly 4-6. In those moments, I had a few where I was responsible for, and witnessing, a kid actually read for the first time. I’m purposefully not a parent, but those are special moments and memories.
Our foreign adventures are quite different in character, with interesting overlap. We should be an overseas superhero duo! You’ll diffuse adversity and promote liberty throughout the subjected communities we avenge! I’ll grab a bite to eat!
Yep. It was called high school because it was meant for the top students and college was for the best of the best.
Grade inflation and the Handicapper General mentality has eroded that.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZzs9TR8DpY
There are very problems with letting young teens work. These include:
-They can’t drive and probably shouldn’t.
-Parents like free daycare.
-The education blob wants warm bodies to justify budgets.
-Child labor laws prohibit it in most cases.
-The crabs in a bucket mentality created a cultural inertia.
The best solution I ever read was about a teen who enrolled at two schools then filed transfers from each to the other. The bureaucrats at both schools thought he was at the other one and he was never bothered again.
@Akira: Excellent summation, and I agree.
“They’re looking for people to i̵d̵o̵l̵i̵z̵e̵ bone at that age…” Correct.
Hmm?
-Child labor laws prohibit it in most cases.
Those were written decades ago and have gone horribly out of date. There are rules against under-16’s operating “powered” machinery, but those laws were written before E-stops and light curtains were much of a thing, and most states haven’t updated it since.
With all the industrial machines I’ve ever worked on, they have so many redundant safety features that you’d have to be TRYING to hurt yourself on it. Sure, there are many machines and industrial settings that always have an element of danger and shouldn’t be places for kids (e.g. a foundry) but there’s a lot of learning opportunities being needlessly kept away from teenagers because of these laws.
Hmm, a road trip with the legendary Evan. Perhaps these?
biplane acrobatic flight cocoa beach fl
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znA4Ubh2lOU
gator cage diving
https://aventuramagazine.com/meet-gator-guide-chris-gillette/
If you can make it near me in Gainesville or even Atlanta, I can take you the rest of the way and you can crash at my place.
I joined the Army for a few reasons, despite the obvious downsides:
-It was something I always wanted to do
-I wanted a steady income for a few years
-I wanted an adventure
-I wanted to have a job I actually liked
-I wanted to challenge myself
-I wanted to do something heroic
It was a wild ride and was mostly good for me. I’m glad I did it and I’m glad it’s over.
Woah. I’m “legendary” now? Well, yes!
Never fear, all the good bits are true.
From myth, a man takes action.
From action, a man becomes a hero.
Through death, the hero becomes legend.
Through time, the legend becomes myth.
A wise man once said: round, round, get around, I get around
Gators survive encounter with Florida woman
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZenTedJzfg
oops, threedoor, not tripacer
I’ll blame that on the beer.
I had a stripe of that defiance too during my 13-year sentence in an educational institution.
– Junior year English teacher made us write an essay on “If you could take anyone to lunch, who would it be?” I wrote “John Dillinger” and then ranted for a few more paragraphs about what a stupid essay topic this is. Most of it was just purposeful meanness, but if there was a theme, it would have been questioning why the life path you aspire to has to be that of someone who already existed rather than a new path of your own choosing. That teacher later told my Mom at conferences that “He writes better than any other students, even those in my advanced classes, but he’s just so ANGRY!”
– My friends and I made a point to throw away our silverware at lunch every single day. To avoid the eye of the roving lunchroom Gestapo or the security cameras, we practiced some sleight-of-hand to bend the silverware in half and stuff it into the empty milk cartons. In our minds, the loss of so much silverware was really going to strike a blow against compulsory schooling.
– Somewhat related to the previous item, I stole as much school property as I could. Our science teacher once passed out some Zeiss brand viewing lenses (like one of those things jewelers use to look at diamonds) and instructed us to put them back in the bin as we left the classroom, but I just pocketed mine. I actually still have it and use it when I need to look really close at something for some reason. Also have a very large drill bit that that I swiped from the machine shop.
– I stole some books from an English teacher’s classroom during senior year. At the time, my mindset was “everyone in this class is so stupid that they’ll never appreciate them”, so I felt entitled to help myself. I feel kind of bad about it now because 1) I think that teacher brought them in or they were donated, and 2) That teacher was actually kind of cool and had us read Anthem by Ayn Rand.
None of this was particularly “cool” to do, and I was generally miserable during school.
My teachers generally liked me and could tell that while I liked learning, I hated school, but not them. Many of them gave me books as presents.
Watching the way children torment each other made me understand the popularity and utility of religion.
***
Latin religionem (nominative religio) “respect for what is sacred, reverence for the gods; conscientiousness, sense of right, moral obligation; fear of the gods…”
***
It has immense utility, for sure. I don’t know how to square that with the fact that I don’t believe in the core premise (existence of supreme being).
It’s kind of weird how much tormenting and outright violence is casually tolerated in schools. Somebody on a podcast said that “for most people, school is the only place where they will ever experience violence.”
I read something similar: “the social skills you learn school are the same ones you learn in prison”.
Having been to both and having a friend was in both, I can assure you this is true.
The difference:
In school, defending yourself from a violent attack will get you in trouble as well on the grounds that “you were BOTH fighting”.
In prison, they would review the camera footage and not discipline the defender if it could be seen that they were minding their own business and got attacked.
Yeah, I remember getting a week of detention for defending myself in a very restrained way.
The guy next to me was talking shit, so I retorted. He started love tapping me in the head, and without even turning, I delivered a perfect 3 Stooges double eye poke. He stormed out swearing. We both got sent the principal’s office, and like you said, both got punished, though he got a week of suspension. That was more of a reward for him. I used study hall detention to catch up on some reading. Lemons into lemonade. The guy was a well-known troublemaker, and I guess I took one for the team. As I told a few people at the time, “meh, I know how to take a punch”.
Damn, I am racking up the typos tonight. Proofreading…the final frontier…
One of the more bizarre moments of my brief perhaps never to be continued teaching career was when several students begged me to assign homework, which I did with reluctance after pressure from the principal. I figured most either wouldn’t do it, or would copy, cheat, half-ass it, or try to do it at the beginning of class right before I checked. And that is exactly what happened.
I feel sorry for the college bound students. I tried to give them a taste of college grading, and they barely choked it down.
The correct grading approach IMO – midterm, final, take the higher of the two. Extra credit on a case-by-case basis for the truly deserving and desperate. In other words, show up and try, and you’ll get at least a C.
Why were kids begging you to give ’em HW? Best hypothesis: After faked, then graded, they’d have a Writing Sample for whatever? (Why the fuck would kids need that? College? Or bullshit applications for social services. Um. That last one seems most likely.)
See also: Our hatred of the US education system. Parental involvement is *the* key. Now? Folk are used to trusting strangers to raise their own kids in the village that needs to be burned to be saved.
Morning all.
I raised my son the way I thought I should have been raised. He turned out to be the most well adjusted, stable, sane and successful person I think I have ever met. When I die I will probably not remember most of what I did in life but that I will remember that and consider it my greatest accomplishment.
It wasn’t all me of course but I will take credit for it.
As for me I was never a team player. I never liked people as a species. There were individuals but as a group I always had disdain for humans.
Some of my favorite movie dialogue:
Edwards: Why the big secret? People are smart. They can handle it.
Kay: A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you’ll know tomorrow.
Edwards: What’s the catch?
Kay: The catch? The catch is you will sever every human contact. Nobody will ever know you exist anywhere. Ever. I’ll give you to sunrise to think it over.
[starts walking away]
Edwards: [shouting after Kay] Hey! Is it worth it?
Kay: Oh yeah, it’s worth it…
[starts walking again, stops and turns back briefly]
Kay: … if you’re strong enough!
Fantastic scene in a fantastic movie.
Well-done, cleverly written and well-acted, sit-down -and-have fun popcorn fare at the same time.
Congrats on your son.
So much talk about school. Consider who the architects of our modern schooling are and all becomes clear.
This quote from Rockefeller chum Frederick T Gates comes to mind:
***
‘In our dreams we have limitless resources and the people yield themselves with perfect docility to our moulding hand. The present education conventions made from our minds and unhampered by tradition we work our own good will upon a grateful and responsive rural folk.
We shall not try to make these people or any of their children into philosophers or men of learning or of science. We have not to raise up from among them authors, editors, poets or men of letters. We shall not search for embryo great artists, painters, musicians, nor shall we cherish even the humbler ambition to raise up from among them lawyers, doctors, preachers, politicians, statesmen, of whom we now have ample supply.
The task which we set before ourselves is a very simple as well as a very beautiful one, to train these people as we find them to a perfectly ideal life just where they are.‘”
***
https://ia601309.us.archive.org/31/items/countryschoolof00gate/countryschoolof00gate.pdf
At WVU, there was this people mover thingy called the PRT – personal rapid transit. It was kind of like a train, but only one car holding maybe a dozen people went at a time. I hardly ever rode it as I preferred to walk. One of the few times I did ride it, it was intentionally stopped by an annoyed operator on a hot summer day. A guy wanted to get the thing going faster since the car only had a few people in it, so he manually turned the entry turnstile a bunch of times to hack the system. The operator must have seen it on the security camera because he then used the intercom to scold the miscreant. That guy argued for a minute before tearing off the window stripping with the emergency handle to escape. I was tempted to do that myself. Anyway, I was grateful for the extra ventilation. The other passengers and I ended up having to wait for a replacement car and I was 20 minutes late for a meeting with a professor.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iaSaWfw07Sw
I liked school for the most part. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
But to be fair, it was the 70s and 80s, when the world was somewhat less stupid. I don’t think I would like it today.
Oh, I’m still awake. Normally commuting, but I recently found my ‘Sunday’ has already technically begun .. four hours ago. I watched our victorious first, but slept through and only caught the (literal) last out to conclude our double-header sweep of the Brewers.
Got myself listening to MMW for the first time in ages. Some definite hits and misses. I love his drumming. If I’m anything musically, I’m a pocket drummer. Funk would be my chosen descriptor for my style, but I ‘technically’ started in jazz.
I wish you well on your way to a glorious Wednesday. I restart my week on Friday, if that helps. For now, I’ll rile about on my legitimate crush on Cutie Colleague.
Happy national bacon lovers day!
🥓🥰🌞
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-h8zs898lr4
🎶🎶
What do you mean that isn’t everyday?
https://www.tiogapublishing.com/news/state/suspect-in-bethlehem-restaurant-shooting-in-custody-police-say/article_85ef7220-9037-5adc-9352-dff58236e51e.html
An 18 yo old. From NJ.
Tell me again about your laws.
🙄
Obviously an Indiana gun.
Should we blame Evan, or Kevin?
He went wild from PA’s freedom. He just couldn’t handle it.
So free he could buy hard alcohol from a private liquor store.
Ted’S – it’ was self’serve gas ‘that did’it.
Mornin’
Good morning, DEG, Ted’S., Sean, U, EfE, and (maybe?) Derpy & Suthen!
Morning.
Woke up with my alarm. Made it to the office. Almost forgot my belt, but had enough time to get it before I was too far along the commute. So… my mind may not be back to normal.
As long as you make it to and from the office safely!
(Your mind was normal?? Oh! You mean normal for YOU! 😉)
😥
How are things with you and yours?
Things are OK. The hometown team won 14 to 3 last night! 😁👍 Of course, this may mean they lose the rest of this series. I guess we’ll see when we go again Saturday night.
That’s what you get for scoring all of your points in a single game, you gotta save some for later. 😜
😄😳😞
radioactive shrimp are invading the US
Ukrainian Refugee Shrimp?
Chernobyl
suh’ fam
whats goody
Good morning, homey and Roat!
Every time someone calls Rat on a Train “Roat”, I can’t help but think of Wait Until Dark.
https://m.imdb.com/title/tt0062467/
TS – sometimes it’s just easier to abbreviate.
Morning.
https://thehill.com/homenews/campaign/5460581-newsom-trolls-trump-social-media/
The media campaign to make a president has swung into full swing.
I particularly enjoy how they are attributing TACO to Newsome while simultaneously telling you it was actually out of Wall Street.
Taco turned 70 last month.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YsGjFh1ke44
There it is.
And contemptuous scorn from anyone to the right of, say, AOC.
PS. You know the “TACO” thing is lame when nobody can remember WTF it is supposed to stand for.
Texas-Alaska Coal and Oil?
Better than listening to Newsom flapping his gums.
“Democrats are over being the nice guy party,” said Democratic strategist Jamal Simmons,”
Huh.
Wow, I wonder what color the sky is in whatever alternate universe he lives in.
Democrats are over gaslighting about being the nice guy party.
What makes you think he goes outside?
Next thing you know, they’re going to start playing dirty tricks.
It’s Database Patching Day!
🥳
It’s all automated, so all I have to do is watch for the progress emails as each node gets patched and make sure nothing goes down. (It’s load-balanced, so the application doesn’t have an outage to worry about)
This is a good thing.
I must talk all day. Almost done with this wretched flu. I look forward to sleeping all night someday soon.
Flu in August?
Get well soon! 🙂
GM 🙂
District Manager.
https://pagesix.com/2025/08/19/style/halle-berry-flaunts-curves-in-itty-bitty-bikini-on-bora-bora-vacation/
Good genes?
Nope, too little Neanderthal.
You’re into women with back hair?
No, Ted – Redheads.