Love and Logic

Sung to the tune of "Love and Marraige"

Love and logic,
Love and logic,
They go together like
Peas and chocolate...

It's a work in progress.

Just like Dad

I can vividly remember coming close the culmination of my high school years and thinking, "I don't ever want to be a teacher like my father!" Of course, irony has a way of making the inevitable happen. I was teaching a math lesson today to my fifth grade students when I looked down and noticed that my hands were covered in the blues, blacks, reds, and greens of the vis-a-vis markers I was using. I instantly was brought back to that final year of high school when I noticed that my fathers hands, the hands of a skilled mathematics teacher at my highschool, were covered with the same blues, blacks, reds, and greens. Instead of what may have been mild disgust, I now looked back and admired the ink stained hands of my father.

Curveballs

I hate analogies, but this one is necessary for getting my point across. It seems that this season (My student teaching year) has been going smoothly. I spent the summer mentally preparing for a great year. So when I stood up to the plate for the first time, I easily hit a home run. My professors began to have faith in my abilities, my relationships with my teammates has continued to be of great value to my personal well-being and my academics. It seemed that every ball thrown at me was easily batted back. Score after score of tests, projects, and responsiblities.

But... pretty soon, life changed up its pitchers. A curveball. Just when I thought another good week would go by with the same success - Swish. The bat hit my back with an unsatisfying thud on my shoulder. It's amazing how quickly you can crush the seemingly strong spirit of a great player. Especially when he gets cocky.

Now, all I need is a good coach, "Get back up! Shoulders square! Elbow up! Eye on the ball! You're doing great, kid!"

Life-Long Learning

From the very beginning of my career in education I was told that this is a life-long learning profesion. Looking back, I now realize the inevitable torture I was voluntarily signing up for. Not that learning in itself is a negative notion. I revel in the moments when light bulbs illuminate in my mind and in the minds of my students. I even strive to work out my brain through "masculine" book clubs and various "self-help" books, most of which I am not proud to admit I have read. In contrast, when it comes to the assigned readings and group discussions at NNU I find myself procrastinating and dreading the learning experiences provided, or should I say purchased, from our university. Why is it that I love to learn, but not in the settings most conducive to doing such? And why is it that over three quarters of the way through my education I begin to show an incredible draw towards other fields of study, such as politics and construction.

How do I deal with my frustrating need to be doing nothing, and my burning passion for bettering myself mentally? Huh, learning is a lot of work!

Snot Booker

My wife called me a snot booker.

Now I record and maintain documents about the input and output of snot...

Or something like that.