EMAIL THE OBSCURE ONE

The short nap at the end of a long night.

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It's been a slow week other than the travails of the young men at my school. Again the bathroom becomes the center stage of the performances. One of the first graders had discovered the problem of many bathrooms in this day and age--the faucet for hand washing requires one to push a button with one hand and hold the other beneath the water--then switch. However, the first grade mind does not reconcile this with the other truth of hand washing--one must use both hands to rub away dirt and grime. I have witnessed many of the boys attempt the Carl Lewis hand maneuver. This involves pushing the water button down and at the speed of light attempt to thrust both hands beneath the water for the nano second before the water stops flowing. Of course the fact that it takes 17 minutes to wash hands in this manner is completely insignificant. And they must do a proper job because another aspect of 1st grade hand washing involves using the soap dispenser long before the first drop of water appears. This makes the entire process even more of a challenge since most of the lads believe that having enough soap in hand to qualify for export tax is also vital. However, today the problem has been solved. Upon walking into the bathroom, I discover that one bright young man has his head in the sink, with his hands just below his lowly hanging head. My first thought is "great he is washing his hair." I think this because the other day that's exactly what one of them was doing; however, I digress. When I see that isn't the situation I wonder if he is crying...nope. The young man has instead realized that by mashing the top of the water faucet with his forehead the water flows continually---thus his hands are free to be both grime free and able to dismiss enough of the soap to avoid any unneeded duty taxes. Of course when he pops up there is now an imprint of the faucet on his forehead but such matters are but a trifle. This particular young man is somewhat new to the country but is obviously pleased with himself. So I tell him he's the man. He replies that I'm the man. So I say "no, you are the man." However Casto thinks I am teasing him with name calling so he begins to argue as if I said he was a loser-head. "NO! You are the man" Again he doesn't quite understand the compliment so it sounds as if he is now challenging me. So I correctly reply "NO I am NOT! YOU are the man!" This continues until my secretary yells at us to keep it down before she goes to get the principal. HA! Like I would use the paddle on myself. However Casto gets the last word as he looks up at me and yells "you are a monkey" and runs back to class laughing. Until I give him four swats and yell "now who's laughing?" Ok I didn't really do that but it would have been cool. And it beats the 9 children who have all lost teeth this week. How do I know it's nine? Because apparently to get money from the tooth fairy it is imperative that you not only inform the principal when you lose a tooth but force him to see the area from which it has been lost by holding your mouth open to 179 degrees and pointing with a finger into the tiny abyss. And of course what day is complete without a little Varus story. Yesterday he is caught in class with someone else's paper on his desk. Of course he didn't do it; I know this because he told me. Of course this is also the one who was caught cheating on his 1st grade spelling quiz when he copied the word incorrectly from the desk behind him. Upside down letters sort of give you away. Today he greets me with "Hey Mr. Hail....whatch you been up to?" Nice job. I almost told him he was the man but I couldn't handle getting yelled at by my secretary again.
posted by Darol at 1:18 PM

 
Here are some rambling thoughts on children. Apparently, the bathroom may be the most fun place on the earth. Daily, elementary students gather in the bathroom to engage in many activities. These have included: Spirited games of hide-and-go seek; urinal spelunking; dancing and singing into the mirror; living out knock-knock jokes by closing the door and encouraging others to knock upon the stall door and yelling who's there over and over and over again; and the all important jump out and scare someone game. Now I hate to be crass but I am fairly certain this last game has some influence on the creation of certain phrases that are used when one gets so scared that they can't control bodily fluids. After all, if I come into the bathroom preparing my body for some relief and someone scares me, the process is quite liable to have already begun.
However all of the above activities are best suited to completed at 113 decibels. There is a parallel line of thinking within children that not only is the bathroom fun to play in, but there is no such thing as sound waves. Picture this: little varus is singing and dancing in front of the mirror after celebrating his most recent spelunking adventure by jumping from the stall to the nearest urinal. While I am down the hall on the phone, I can hear the music pouring forth. When I arrive in the bathroom, a shocked little varus (his name has been changed just a little so that I don't ever get sued) is shocked that his performance has been heard and interrupted. This of course was later in the day that he had been yelling from inside of his bath room stall "who's there? I hear you. And then calling out random names to see who would answer" every time he heard foot steps in the room. The two events never connected with him that we were hearing everything. Of course he isn't the only one believing that sounds do not travel from the bath room. The four girls playing hide and go seek were amazed that both the teacher and I could hear the game develop--though I confess that I am unsure what the base was. And I don't really want to know. Roll the credits.
posted by Darol at 8:30 AM

 
Please understand that I consider James to a great friend and love him as a brother. Just thought it would be important to begin there. If you haven't read the adventures of James lately, stop by and see his post for Jan. 16 here.

So while James is saving his neighborhood from ferocious beasts I couldn't help but think about the time I was called upon to save my family from a series of disasters that occured one summer. I felt chills reading of James's exploits as it reminded me of the impending danger we faced from a terric fire that burned outside of our home. My parents were trapped within the home and had no method of getting out. I knew from the insane barking of our dog that fear had taken ahold of all of them. A lot of time we think we can play the hero when faced with danger but the sight of the flames gripped me with great fear. Maybe it was the thought of my parents gasping for air as the flames grew higher. Maybe it was the soon to be desperate whining of my beloved pet dealing with the terror as only animals can. But either way something inside of me finally snapped. I rushed towards the flames with only one thought "I have to save them--no matter what". Somehow the image is still caught in my mind. Maybe the flames themselves possessed some dim form of intelligence--it was as if the sight of body flashing toward them created a pause in their relentless destruction. Then without further thought I hurled myself into the middle of the danger. Rolling on the ground and kicking up dirt to protect myself I vanquished the flames and saved my family. never again would that smouldering damp match threaten those whom I cherished.

Of course it was less than a week later that I was again called upon to defend my loved ones from an invasion of aliens. Few nine year olds have their mettle tested as mine was that summer. The burn scars were barely healed when I was again plucked into the path of danger from the road of serenity. I will never forget the grave, yet uplifting words of my father as I drove back the Alien Horde from the land that his tears and sweat had purchased. "Turn off the flashilight, quit yelling at the neighbors, get out from under the car and go to bed. It's 11:30." wow. It's 11:30. that has always stuck with me. Once again our neighborhood could breath easily.
posted by Darol at 9:42 AM

 
I won't bother to talk about my lack of posting. I will talk about the lack of really good cards--birthday, holiday, joy to the world types of things. The current crop of cards is ridiculously poor. It began with trying to find a card for my sister's birtherday. Not only were there none for her that made any sense (I find two page long, premade dialogue to be an ill fit) but there weren't any period. I am at a Walmart--which by default means if they don't have it nobody has it--the day after Christmas and there are no cards for sister (or as my mom found out later....daughter) birthdays. However you will be comforted to know that the Valentine and St. Patrick's Day cards were already neatly packaged and busheled for delivery to the people. WHAT?!?!? I guess it's never too early to pinch somebody for not wearing the appropriate color. I think we should have greeting card days where you get to punch a hallmark representative if they put out stupid cards.
Then we come to the issue of finding a card for an occasion that you want to be just right. Not too mushy yet not so boring that a coma results from reading the inscription on the cover. Maybe just some blank cards where a person can at least write the way he/she wants to. NOPE. Oh you can find cards to celebrate ARBOR day (which really has sick irony to it from the perspective of the trees. "hey just wanted to say we love trees-----by killing them to make this card to say we love them.) You can even find a card to celebrate the first time you fly a kite in a rain storm and don't get called Benjamin Franklin by gang members who blow up rubber trees to protest the effects of NAFTA (well I mean you probably could find one for that). But try to find a card that you would like to give someone that might have any meaning whatsoever and you are out of luck. It's like Hallmark bought the Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy program and just keeps printing passages out of it. Sad really. Roll them credits.


posted by Darol at 1:37 PM