Teacher Week: High School Teachers

High School. The years where you're supposed to continue a higher level of thinking. You have to navigate the halls, the hate, and the fun and still come up strong.

My high school years were great. My band teacher taught me discipline, organization, and the ability to perform without an over abundance of nerves. He got us all motivated and dedicated to one cause. Nearly all of us bought in. And by all, I mean over 180 kids at one time.

I learned how to write poetry, to create a picture with words and give it feeling. I learned the art of a story arc, how characters had to be believable and have the right motivations. I learned that some people are going to like what you write and some people aren't.

I learned to type. The right way.

I learned how to look deeply into story. How Shakespeare wasn't as complicated as some made it out to be. And how Hawthorne was. I learned how to write essays that looked deep into the souls of characters and how to find a different meaning than was there.

I learned about World War I and II and how the seeds were sewn for those conflicts many years earlier. How one event builds on another and another.

And I learned Hamlet. I got to be Hamlet when we read aloud in class. And how my teacher pulled me aside one day and said, "Not many people get to play Hamlet, but you'll always be able to say you did."

Teacher Week: Middle School Teachers

Middle school is where you start to grow up. Sixth, seventh and eighth grade are those hormonal years where you don't understand your own body, you don't understand the world around you, and yet you think you're the coolest thing on earth.

Or you have no confidence whatsoever.

My middle school years weren't any different from that, but I had some really great teachers to help guide me through those years.

I remember learning about developing your own photographs, real hands on stuff. And learning about how to build something from scratch, where you're given a task (build something that will roll ten feet and pop a balloon--using a mousetrap), and you have to come up with a way to complete.

I learned about failure. The balloon didn't pop. Not having the right notebook for a notebook check.

But when failure came, teachers were there to guide me through it. One teacher, right after failing me gave me a new notebook and a guideline of how to pass next time.

And, when the most tragic of events happened--a student in our 8th grade class died--our teachers were there to guide us through.

The day after his death, our teachers were there to talk with us. To help us with our grief. They allowed students to write poems, to discuss their feelings, to hug if it was needed.

And weeks later, when the students went to City Hall to plead for a walkway over the highway where the student died, the teachers watched. They didn't need to say anything. Didn't need to acknowledge it.

But one cut out the news article the next day. Posted it on her bulletin board and just wrote next to it... "I'm proud of you!"

And it was the right amount of care and the right amount of guidance.

Years later, that same teacher gave me the best advice about teaching 8th Grade. She wasn't even talking to me when she said it.

"Sometimes you just want to tell them to act their age," she said. "Then you realize... they are."

Teacher Week: Elementary School Teachers

This week my blog is going to be an ode to the teachers I've had in life. I'm not going to use their names because some of them are still working and I didn't clear it with them, but I will talk about the things they did to inspire me.

My elementary school teachers really had an impact on my life, whether it was teaching me to count to 100 in Kindgergarten or delivering the news of the Challenger explosion in first grade. I remember my second grade teacher pushing me to finish a novel about Daniel Boone, my first read that was over 100 pages long.

But what I remember most were my fourth and fifth grade teachers. My fourth grade teacher would go above and beyond her teaching contract, taking the time to read the stories I wrote even though they were no assigned class projects. In fact, she was responsible for my first published story, a Sherlock Holmes pastiche called "The Adventure of the Golden Bookcase" which was published in the district's literary magazine called "The Cobbler."

My fifth grade teacher also pushed my writing. We had weekly creative writing assignments where she'd give us a story starter and we'd have to write about it. I was able to push my fifth grade self to write horror stories, historical tales, and another Holmes story. I also learned the art of peer sharing. Before we finished the stories, we had to read them to a group of students in our class. Those students were able to clear up confusions, maybe make a few grammatical changes. My first foray into revision.

You learn basics in elementary school. The seeds are planted for the rest of your life. And the dedicated teachers I had helped send me in the right direction.

What good elementary teachers did you have?

Life Experiences

It's funny, but with all the snow, cold weather, and work, I feel like I'm running out of things to write about on this blog.

(Don't worry, this is not another one of those should I or shouldn't I... you're stuck with me.)

It got me thinking, to keep a website, a blog, anything where you share info with people fresh, you have to have life experiences. Right now I'm stagnating a little bit. I haven't been doing much. I've been planning my wedding and staying in. Nothing really worth writing about here.

So, what do I mean by life experience?

I mean like my trip to Cancun or my upcoming Bermuda honeymoon. I mean like getting a book deal and pimping the book. Or having something happen writing wise that catches my eye.

We're in a slump season, so until then you're going to get book reviews of old books, making fun of things, and NJ The Promised Land.

Okay, nevermind, this blog hasn't changed at all.

Learning How to Cook

I'm trying to teach myself how to cook. I can grill pretty well (although I think my grilling ability has been recently thrown off by my Foreman "I lived in an apartment" Grill.), but I don't know how to cook.

So, slowly, I've been trying to domesticate myself and learn to cook different things.

Item 1: Bratwurst. I do a pretty darn good beer Brat. I boil them in beer and onions and then grill (or if no grill is available) throw them in a pan to crisp them up. On a roll with the onions and some mustard and you are good to go.

Item 2: Wings. I've learned a great wings recipe. They are broiled, not fried, and the sauce is homemade. It takes about half an hour to make. I'm a regular Rachel Ray.

Item 3: Grilled Fish Tacos and slaw. I can grill or broil a darn good fish taco. Healthy and delicious, mixed with a great slaw made out of cabbage, carrots, onions and peppers and mixed in a vinegar. Very tasty. And the fish rub is great too.

Item 4: Turkey tacos. Mix in the mix and turkey meat in a pan. Wrap in warm taco.

Item 5: London broil. Broil it... mix up some au jous.

I'm not great yet, but I'm getting there.

New Jersey: The Promised Land--Bonus Edition!!!

Listen, with the Olympics ending, I thought it would be fun to see why New Jersey is better than Canada.

-We end our sentences with "Oh!", which is much better and more powerful than "ey."

-When the Olympics are being played we actually get snow.

-We say things like "I got your maple syrup right here!"

-I'm allowed in New Jersey.

-Taylor Ham > Canadian Bacon.

-We know how to cross the street.

-Martin Brodeur actually likes it here.

-Our pizza is made out of actual ingredients, not ketchup and crackers.

-We endure the JERSEY SHORE show and rise above it. Yet, DEGRASSI is actually taken seriously in some circles.

-Bruce Springsteen actually knows what ironic means and can come up with real ironic situations.

SO WHAT DOES CANADA HAVE OVER NEW JERSEY?

Molson....

New Jersey: The Promised Land--Drivers

In New Jersey, people don't really know how to drive. You may be able to zip along for about ten miles, and then bam, you're stopped in a bottleneck or unannounced construction or someone just decided to hit their brakes because "Hey! That's a cool billboard." People go slow in the fast lane, fast in the slow lane, don't always use their blinker, don't pay attention to traffic signals, and love to keep you from where you're going.

But Dave, you're probably saying right now, I thought you loved New Jersey. Isn't this a bad thing?

No. It's a good thing. You know why? Because any good New Jersey drives now have great reflexes and great instincts. When NJ drivers go out, they're ready for anything. Stop short? Easy? Pass from the wrong lane? Easy. You go out and you know how to use your brake, how to use your gas pedal and how to flip people off. You are training to drive in the trenches. You may curse a lot, but you're ready.

Compare this to Ohio (#34). I drove in Ohio once. I was on an interstate highway, and people were following traffic laws. It was amazing. Everyone passed on the left and used their turn signals. It was weird. I didn't really know how to react. All I knew was, suddenly I was going 90 mph and a cop was on my tail. I got a ticket. Now, granted, it's my fault, but the state sucks. They're so plain Jane that they don't even attempt to be daring. They don't zig zag, they don't cut corners... they're just... square. What interesting thing has happened in Ohio? NOTHING.

So boring.

In NJ, you never know what you're going to get. The drivers prove that.

Traditional Post: Why I hate the Olympics

I held off until after the Olympics were over so I could go through my list after catching some of the coverage.

So, why do I hate the Olympics? Mostly it has to do with NBC, but the Olympics follows a formula as well, and that formula helps me be annoyed too.

1) The Olympics are put together and marketed as sports for people who don't like sports. I don't care about flag dancing or figuring skating or cross country skiing or skiing and shooting. There's nothing to watch there. Oh look, he went by slowly. Oh, he picked up a gun and fired it. Oh okay, he moved off slowly again. Nope, not a sport. An athletic achievement? Yes. But not a sport. Therefore, no competition, no tension. Just slow moving nonsense.

2) The personal stories. Because the athletic events are so boring, NBC has to pump them up with personal stories about the athletes. And they are never EVER heartwarming and happy. These people are beaten by their parents, abandoned as children, had deaths in their family, children with horrible diseases. It's not good enough to be great in your sport, you have to have a tragic past as well. Most of these athletes would be serial killers if they didn't go into their event. You never hear a story about a guy who was good at a sport, grew up well adjusted, and then won. Maybe Michael Phelps, but even then the media decided to tear him down.

3) The banishment of sports. I was looking for the first USA hockey game last week and I put on NBC. What did I find? A weatherman sitting with Bob Costas holding a pitcher full of ice and pouring water over it. "This is what happens when rain hits ice," he said. I. Don't. Care. I couldn't find the hockey game. It was buried on a cable network I'm lucky to get. Not to mention the game started at 3 in the afternoon. On a Tuesday. Why do you hide professional sports, NBC? Why don't you put them on regular TV? They would garner ratings.

4) Mary Carillo. I cannot stand this woman. All she does is tour the country the Olympics are in and try stuff different from the US. She makes jokes about it that are never funny. NEVER. FUNNY. She adds nothing to the games. In fact, she takes away from the games, because they focus on her instead of hockey.

5) Pros in sports. DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES? Not anymore. I cannot take a team win as a serious upset when there are professional players on the teams. Amateurs make it interesting. Pros make it dominent. And dominence is rarely compelling. (Though hockey managed to be this year, admittedly.)

6) Tragedies. There is always a tragedy at the Olympics. And it gets endless coverage. People, can we--for one year--stay safe out there?

7) The controversies. This judge was Canadian, so he picked a Canadian winner. Everyone hates Russians. We're American so we get judged harder. SHUT UP! Lose with class. You lost, big whoop. It happens. Stop whining about it. Otherwise you sound like Bobby Gonzalez. And believe me, you don't want that.

UGH. I hate the Olympics.