It's In the Syllabus

I dedicate this post to all the teachers of the world... which, is a good thing, since googling "it's in the syllabus" might accidentally lead you to the Addiverse. These stolen memes and these words are for you. Besides, many of my friends are teachers--in fact, I'd venture that 50% of my friends are teachers. I have relatives who are teachers. I am married to a teacher. Educators: you deserve to feel the love at the start of the new year.


Ah, the end of summer. The sunburn is finally done peeling. The days are getting surprisingly shorter. A overachieving tree is already starting to turn colors. Vacations are winding down. NFL fantasy football drafts are underway. The Boys of Summer are preparing for the play-offs. The harvest is just about to start (city folk like me don't think about the harvest, but I hear it's this time of year). The temperature remains scorching but paper and pencils and notebooks and glue sticks are all on sale, so....

...teachers, I'm sorry but you have to go back to school. Forget the kids. Most kids love going back to school. It means new school supplies, new shoes, seeing friends on a daily basis. It's the teachers that are freaking out as school approaches. Yes, teachers--you have to go back. Inservices, classrooms without air conditioning and copier jams are awaiting your arrival.

"Back to school" is the time of year that I'm glad I don't have my summers off from work. Seriously. The angst eminating from teachers the week before school suggests it is not worth it. I'll just plug along on the 12 month schedule, thank you very much.

This is the wife's 29th year of teaching. Twenty nine years. (Man, that's a lot of student names.) After twenty nine years, you would think that seeing the "Back to School" sales would have no effect. But, they do. Oh, they do. It's bad enough when the ads start showing up right after July 4th, but to SEE the actual supplies is terrifying. The panic sets in. The truth permiates the soul. The fretting begins. I don't need a calendar to know what time of year it is--all I have to do is observe the wife. She's an educational calendar barometer. I can recognize the beginning of the year, mid-terms, return-after-Christmas-break, finals, end-of-summer, all by observing the wife.

Teachers are a kindred spirit, gathering in the break room, sharing student rosters and comparing schedules. They dust off the cobwebs and put on their teaching clothes. They lament the list of meetings and inservices demanding their attention. I'm sure they talk about what they did over the summer but I'd bet dollars to donuts that the conversation is about the classroom, room assignments, student rosters and in-service schedule, not about what happened in July.

Like I said, having to work year round has merit. There is no tongue in cheek here nor am I facetious. I'll stick to working year round. That culture shock is not worth the time off

My favorite quote this time of year is "It's in the syllabus." No kidding. I didn't think people really said that but they do. And, students--it really IS in the syllabus. The wife says she is going to get a t-shirt that says this and wear it to the first day of class.

I admit that I never once looked at a syllabus handed to me by my college professors. My focus was on how the first day of class--syllabus day--was going to be super-short. I just folded it in half and stuck it in the front of my text book. Don't tell that to the wife.... she spends hour upon hour developing syllabi for her classes. It truly does include everything a student needs to know. It is a work of syllabi art and yet... it goes unnoticed, unappreciated, unused. Students, you really do deserve to hear "it's in the syllabus" if you haven't looked at it.

I'm sure teachers as students loved going back to school. Hell, that's why they are teachers--they loved going to school. They are passionate about educating and love to educate students. For those of you teachers who are excited to see the end of summer, I salute you. For those of you teachers who are not excited to see the end of summer, I salute you, too. I salute your passion, your love of education, your willingness to serve our children, your desire to make a difference in the world.

As you start the school year, I wish you the best of luck.
I hope students read the syllabus and that they don't ask questions about that of which you just explained.
I pray no one pukes, poops or pees in your class room.
I ask the Universe to keep your classroom lice-free.
I wish you a stress free parent zone.
I envision you giving grades that are not challenged by student and parent alike.
I wish you bravery, strength and patience as you resume your educational efforts.
I support a vision of cell-phone-free classrooms.
May your pencils remains sharp and your "back of the head" seeing eye even sharper.
May the cheaters be few and the completed homework be plenty.

May the answer ever be in the syllabus.

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P.S. Here's a way to ensure your students aren't staring at their crotches (texting, of course) or cheating the electronic way.....

Standard Standard. Again.

Oh, double standards, how you hurt my brain. This time, you hurt my brain on an Olympian scale. I'm all fired up, bright as the Olympic torch.

How is it that an Olympic swimmer blatantly lies to the media, his mother and law officials about being held at gunpoint--makes a grand false report, tells an ugly mess of a tall tale...all on an international stage...and yet....

"Boys will be boys."

(Ummmmm.... the lead liar is over 30 years old. That's a boy?) 

I left out the word "white" in my description of the swimmer. What if he were a black male athlete who lied on this scale, on this stage? Would we be so quick to chuckle and write it off to the indiscretion of youth for a black male athlete? Absolutely not. Don't even pretend to think that it would be the same. You are only lying to yourself if you say the race wouldn't matter.

I left out the gender in my description of the swimmer. What if that had been a woman swimmer? Being a female swimmer, would they say, "girls will be girls?"

God help us if it had been black female athlete who didn't do her hair properly and didn't put her hand over her heart.

I left out the word "American" in my description of the swimmer. What if the athlete were from a different country? Would we be quick to stand behind them and say, "boys will be boys?" Don't lie to yourself. Don't lie to me.

What if the swimmer were from a country with refugees, the countries of which we must keep out of our country? Wouldn't that just "prove" The Donald's point of why we as a nation shouldn't let "those people" into the country? Don't even pretend that thinking doesn't happen. All you have to do is peruse FB to know that the hate is there and that people would apply his rhetoric.

What if he were Muslim? I know religion has nothing to do with swimming... Um, exactly: religion has nothing to do with swimming, so I'm glad the swimmer's religion wasn't included. You wouldn't hear that a "Christian swimmer in hot water for lying." Would we mention if he were Muslim? I fear some newsfeeds would include this non-related fact. Sigh.

I'm not trying to fuel a race war.
I'm not organizing a gender rights march. 
I don't want to argue about religion.
I'm not demanding a vote for the Democratic side of the fence.
(Or, on the Republican side of the wall between us and Mexico. Heh heh.)


All I'm saying is that there is a double standard....here in this situation, overall in this country. If that "boy" isn't held accountable for his lying, it gives a loud and clear message. Not only we do we perpetuate the "ugly American" stereotype so unfortunately held around the globe, we send a loud message to our own country.

(My hope is that if he were a gay swimmer, the situation would be viewed as "fabulous boys being fabulous boys." I crack myself up.)

Don't start with how I'm being un-American by writing any of this. I'm not being that at all. I am proud of what America has done, is doing, will do. I am so incredibly grateful to live in this great nation. I am pro-America, glad to be in the home of the free and the brave. You can spew hateful rhetoric at me--and, I'm most certain that people will do just that--but, in the end, listen to yourself. Take ownership of your hate. Take a look at how we continue to morph into a hateful, judgmental ball of ugliness.

I'll bet dollars to donuts that writing this lumps me in with the un-American "lib-tards."  Or, I'll be viewed as an emotional bitch, not as an assertive peer voicing an opinion. Grrrrr.

Double standards obviously don't exist only on the athletic field. Do you think a female candidate for President would get away with having three different marriages? Do you think she could get away with having a spouse from another country, all the while spewing how we can't let foreigners into the country? Could she get away with making untrue statements and then later say she was being "sarcastic?" Her male counterpart is celebrated. She'd be ripped to shreds.

Standard.Standard.

Before you get your undies all in a bundle, understand I'm not saying the female candidate is better or worse--I'm just pointing out the double standard--she can't say or get away with what her male opponent is saying at this very moment.

As I'm already fired up, I am tempted to keep going. But, I'd digress to places of which I don't need to go during a double-standard tirade. Instead, I'm going to insert a clip from the Today Show via YouTube. Hopefully, it won't be deleted from the website before you can view it. If nothing else, it's fun to watch Al stir his drink instead of strangling his cohort.

Boys will be boys, indeed.

The Apocalype Trunk

People may make fun of my car's "Apocalypse Trunk," but more times than not, it has served me--and them--well. I've always said that if the apocalypse comes, you should be with me, because we will survive due to the crap packed into my car's trunk. Me and the cockroaches, going forward in the darkest of times. God have mercy on the rest of your souls, especially those of you who made fun of the contents in my car's trunk.

What is in an "Apocalypse Trunk," you ask? I attest that my trunk's contents include everything from emergency rations to clean underwear. (Dirty underwear would be weird--dunno why I had to clarify that.) Oh, I have the normal stuff like toothbrush/toothpaste, batteries, tampons, shampoo, band-aids, a deck of cards (hey, we'll need something fun to do in the event of the Apocalypse), jumper cables, duct tape, pocket knife, a full change of clothes, a folding chair, maps, scissors. I even have some flip-flops for times it is raining and I don't want to get my good shoes wet. I like to think I am a girl scout extraordinaire. Compass in hand, map in pocket, hat on head, spare pair of glasses on cord--I'm ready to spring into action. I've helped many people, on many an occasion.

It may sound like my trunk is stuffed to the brim with survival gear, but it's not. There is plenty of room in there for groceries, a suitcase, workout gear, my briefcase, a picnic basket and a bunch of folding chairs. Well, not all at the same time but you get the idea. The photo semi-sorta illustrates what an Apocalypse Trunk looks like. (That's a Raiders/Packers outdoor rug lining the bottom of the trunk, thanks to Eldest Niece. I love that thing. I have it in there so I can see it every time I open my trunk, but more because I wanted to keep it safe from people at work, as they didn't show proper respect. They're just jealous.)

My car is nine years old, which isn't really old but it's old enough to keep me prepared. I do a lot of traveling, both near and far, so it's important that I think ahead. Having a blanket, towel and cell phone charge seem reasonable to keep around. Having a flashlight on hand is a good idea. Keeping an umbrella (or, two) in tow is common sense and doesn't take up that much room in my trunk. An extra pair of prescription glasses is a must, considering my ridiculously-poor eye sight (I'm not going anywhere without glasses).

The Apocalypse Trunk also includes some not-as-usual stuff like an Ethernet cord (always be ready to use technology), staple gun (for stapling or shooting, I suppose), sleeping bag (you know, the kind that weighs 6 ounces and looks like tin foil), bed bug suit (bed bugs will surely survive the Apocalypse), brand new dog leash and collar (even though we no longer have dogs--who knows when a stray dog will need rescuing?), para-cord bracelet (so many uses, so little room needed, hand warmers, bagged water, a fifth grade math practice book (why, I have no idea), Microsoft Excel books (perhaps to start a fire?) and even a pair of drum sticks.

Yes, drum sticks. Hey, one never knows when the opportunity to sit in with a famous band will surface. Or, maybe wood is needed to keep a small fire going when in need of warmth or boiling water. What if you have an itch on your back that you can't reach? Maybe a drumstick would come in handy to poke the eyes out of a bad guy.

Actually, those drum sticks came in mighty handy last week and it wasn't because I ran into a band who needed an emergency substitute percussionist. My nieces were camping at a state park near our abode and called to say (in a most round-about way) they were having trouble putting up their tent as they didn't have a hammer. Knowing that I had a hammer in my Apocalypse trunk (that's certainly not unusual) and knowing we were within five miles of their location, the wife and I drove to their campsite and provided the much-needed tool.

The hammer worked out swimmingly and soon they had the tent standing upright, the majority of stakes in place. Problem was, a few of the stakes had broken (most likely when they were trying to pound them into the ground using various implements) and thus they were one short to keep the right side of the large tent in place. You would think one stake wouldn't really matter, but in this case, it most certainly did. The wife and I problem-solved with the young ladies but we weren't able to get anything to work. That's when I realized.....

.....I opened my trunk and grabbed one of the drum sticks. I pounded that puppy into the ground and...

...wa-la! Tent stake!

Lest you think I'm kidding, here's a photo. Genius. Creative. Not exactly life-saving but definitely worthy of the task. It didn't matter that there was no hook at the top, as the stick was long enough to make that issue not matter. It didn't matter that the tent was a wee bit off the ground due to the set-up. That tent was going no where.

I'm sure seasoned campers in the area were mighty entertained (or, mortified--hard to say). Perhaps they were jealous of such creativity and improvisation.

I left the hammer, the other drum stick and the para-cord bracelet with them, just in case and for good luck. We didn't hear from them again, so they either had a great time without further issue or they are lost in the woods, wishing they had a drumstick and a para-cord with compass. Perhaps they found a band which needed a drummer and they had two drum sticks to spare.

So, if the days are getting dark and the election has you worried about your survival on the planet, come find me. Know that there are candy bars and bagged water waiting just for you. As long as you don't want to play the drums, it's all good.

The Game of Fame that Was Not to Be

The wife and I spent a long weekend with the gaybors at the NFL Hall of Fame. The gaybors take us on these adventures of which we could never do without their generosity and access. This time, it was a trip to watch several NFL-types be inducted into the Hall of Fame, including the Wife's beloved Green Bay Packer Brett Favre and my bad boy Oakland Raider Kenny Stabler.  The Hall of Fame Game was to feature the Green Bay Packers verses the Indianapolis Colts.

I would venture a guess that 75% of people on the Hall of Fame grounds were Packer Fans, crushing the number of Indy, Pittsburgh or other fans in attendance. It was like being at Lambeau Field. The wife was surrounded by her people. It truly was a sea of Green and Gold....

....well, perhaps I should say 75% of people in attendance were wearing the number FOUR, as there were green #4s, purple #4s, pro-bowl blue #4s and black Falcon #4s. Surprisingly (or not), we saw ZERO Jets #4. I guess all those pissed off Packer fans didn't burn all their Favre jerseys, after all.

How we didn't burst into flames with all the excitement, I do not know.

So many things happened in such a short amount of time--I don't even know where to begin orwhat to include. Because younger gaybor does work for the NFL, we had top-notch access to everything. We hob-knobbed with current and past NFL greats...some of the time, we did not know who we were looking at, but their stature and Super Bowl rings let us know we were looking at someone of NFL importance. (For the record, it is REALLY hard to determine who you are looking at when they do not have a uniform and helmet on.) We ate decadent buffet meals with players and families and totally enjoyed Orlando Pace's family dancing like their was no tomorrow (they do a mean Cupid Shuffle). We gawked at the Stabler family (who was at the table next to us) and pointed out all the Super Bowl rings (beyond ostentatious displays of victory). We strolled through the Hall of Fame, stared at Tony Dungy while he was shopping in the gift shop with his son and we laughed at just about everything. I was in hog heaven because not only was "The Snake" being inducted into the hall, but also because there were TWO Goodyear blimps flying high above the stadium. (You may not know it, but I do love a good blimp...and, there were TWO!) The wife was giddy with delight when she got her photo taken with a Packer great (George Koonce) and was smitten by the volume of Packer Fans in attendance for the weekend. As part of the package, we attended the Hall of Fame concert by Tim McGraw. Like I said, we wouldn't have been able to do these things without our beloved-have-NFL-access-friends.

Several of the high lights had nothing to do with the actual enshrinement, which made for that much more fun. For instance, the wife almost got beat up at the Tim McGraw concert, something of which we are still laughing about. I made a new boyfriend...of whom caused us to move seats lest he puke all over us. And, can I just say that people in Ohio are super-friendly, nice and polite. I don't think I've been anywhere so genuinely friendly.

Security was amazing and omnipresent--at one point, their were SWAT sniper types on the roof, overlooking the stadium. Talk about feeling safe. Police presence was almost overwhelming. Getting "wanded" happened every time you entered a new section of the grounds. Security checkpoints for bag checks were the norm. (Note: If you go anywhere like this, invest in the plastic-see-through purse-type bag--it saves oodles of time at the bag checks.) There was nothing that was going to go wrong at this event....


...save the Hall of Fame Game being canceled. Oops!

Suffice it to say the new turf was ruined when someone (or, a bunch of someones, I suppose) used the wrong paint on the field. The giant logo mid-field and in the end zones congealed into this hot mess of goop and then turned to something like cement. We were at one of the buffets at the time the issue surfaced (Orland Pace family, we bow to you!), so we had no idea anything was transpiring. We thought it was strange that they didn't close down the buffet at 7 PM as scheduled, but we were none-the-wiser until one of the gaybors got a text from her brother, alerting us the game had been canceled. We thought he was kidding. Turns out he was not.

Oh, they tried to fix it. They scraped off that paint as fast as they could. It remained too unsafe to play. Imagine being the President of the Hall walking out to mid-field, having to tell all those green and gold diehard fans that the game was canceled. That's the stuff of which nightmares are made. I'm sure he has an ulcer bigger than the congealed logo.

The money lost because of this error is probably staggering. After all, they are refunding the price of the tickets....but, the lost revenue from concessions alone must be daunting. (I know, the NFL has bazillions of dollars. Still....) I heard they stood to lose four million dollars by canceling that game. That number probably does not include anything but the actual loss of revenue for the game. I'm guessing the persons involved in this error are now unemployed....

This photo is of the players, big wigs and inductees standing on the once-congealed mess. I love that the players are in shorts. If you look closely enough, you can see Brett Favre walking down the 50 yard line, headed toward the other inductees. Yes, he has shorts and a polo shirt on.

I want the NFL Hall of Fame to know that this snafu did not ruin one iota of our time at the Hall of Fame. I am sure the NFL is receiving tons of hate mail and bad press. But, it was the first pre-season game of the year and would not have given us opportunity to see any of the starters do anything besides talk to each other on the side lines. We still got to see the teams and still got to fill the stands. We still got to see the inductees take the field once again and give us a wave. We still got to swim in a sea of Green and Gold. It's just that the game was not not to be.

I'll tell the stories of the wife almost getting beat up and me almost getting puked on another time. For now, let us bask in the glow of football. Let us revel in glory of a sport that entertains us to no end. Let us don our team colors and banter with those who fail to embrace those colors. Let us thank the gaybors for yet another excellent outing....

...and, let us pray for the person(s) who used that paint. They are gonna need all the prayers they can get.
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