tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54684512011-04-21T13:31:31.738-07:00One minute a day keeps the fantods away.zknoreply@blogger.comBlogger91100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1107401382907565562005-02-02T19:26:00.000-08:002005-02-02T19:29:42.906-08:00

So today, then: There were no good minutes today. I love my job, I enjoy the company of my fellow teachers. 95% of my students are great kids. I feel very comfortable with them at the helm in the future. The 5% make me reconsider every movement I make. When a kid gets pleasure out of murdering your day... Anyway, tomorrow can only be better. And I get to see the nephew this weekend.

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1104798182744720042005-01-03T16:15:00.000-08:002005-01-03T16:23:02.746-08:00

So today, then: One good minute. Goofy ass kid in my late afternoon class. Always looking to be looked at, always making a comment. The type who makes a face for twenty minutes and won't stop until someone notices and laughs. Today he's late because the bus back from the P.E. at the bowling alley is late. (The state of Physical Education at the Secondary level should be obvious to whoever

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1103247260218559252004-12-16T17:21:00.000-08:002004-12-16T17:34:20.216-08:00

So today, then: One good minute. My goal as a teacher is not to be liked. To put it another way--I want respect, I want positive thought processes, I want enrichment. I'm not out to be anybody's friend, here. And I hate it when people talk about how much their students like/respect them. That said. Today, in my first hour Senior Composition class, a student asked a question. Something to

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1102909685707225062004-12-12T19:38:00.000-08:002004-12-12T19:48:05.706-08:00

So today, then: One good minute, in increments: 0:00-0:12: Waking up next to my wife, her rolling over to me. Listening to her heart beat through the palm of her hand. 0:13-0:20: Reading in an article about Ukraine, in The New Yorker, that the state-controlled news channel was broadcasting propaganda, and all the while the deaf interpreter in the corner of the screen kept signing, over and

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1102388395161068052004-12-06T18:47:00.000-08:002004-12-06T18:59:55.160-08:00

So today, then: Teaching, at least at the high school level, is 85% patience and 15% frustration. An example. I'm talking to my Seniors about persuasion, about how it has become an industry not to be fucked with, called marketing. We watched a PBS special called The Persuaders, and we were discussing the implications of a free-press being taken over by advertising and marketing (a Boston

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1101693510952470702004-11-28T17:41:00.000-08:002004-11-28T17:58:30.953-08:00

So today, then: One good minute, courtesy of Meet the Press***1***. This is about a forty-five second exchange between Al Sharpton (at his best a great mix of James Brown and Howard Dean; at his worst...) and two very hardcore conservative high-profile crazies. The conversation veered between absolute chaos and genuine discussion. Falwell came off as his normal self, but this Land fellow was

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1101343550951805312004-11-24T16:22:00.000-08:002004-11-24T16:45:50.950-08:00

So today, then. Pep assembly schedule. Kids get to leave early by class to go to the auditorium. I have 10th graders 8th hour. They're supposed to leave two minutes after the 9th graders. So I say, "Today, you are 9th graders." I was tired; I didn't have the heart to keep them two extra minutes. I nod and raise my eyebrows. "Right?" Most of them get it right away. Then, the others.

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1097722714900495582004-10-13T19:52:00.000-07:002004-10-13T19:58:34.900-07:00

So today, then: Driving home, listening to The Arcade Fire. There's a tanker truck in front of me. Someone has defaced the warning above one of the gauges on the back of the truck to change it from NO GLOVES to NO LOVE . One good minute.

zknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468451.post-1097626444387858992004-10-12T18:58:00.000-07:002004-10-12T17:14:04.386-07:00

So today, then: Got an email saying I had a new girl added to one of my classes. She stands waiting while I wrangle the fifteen-year-old hormones into a managable mess. She's nervous, maybe because she's new to the school, but maybe also because she moved to the United States from Lithuania not-so-long ago. So she stands, nervous. I get the others moving and finally make my way back to her.

zknoreply@blogger.com0