Tenure Class

As it stands right now, I have to really screw something up to not have tenure. I'm embarking on my third year, and I've slogged through the most worthless four days of my existence to lay hold of the golden status that grants me eternal job security. Speaking of worthless, let me expound on just how awful these days have been.

Theory. 

When will people realize that that's all it is--a theory. Tuesday began with the Oompa Loompa standing at the font of a multipurpose room in a local elementary school with her tiny hand held as high as it would go. But from the moment we went silent, she began spouting out every piece of educational jargon in the book. Jargon is all ready the scum that grows in the nether regions of any career field, but why do the high-ups feel the need to spout these vomitous bits every chance they get? Is it superiority complexes? Likely. "I've been to school for a thousand years and have lost touch of reality. Let me show you these complicated words I've discovered."

Blah blah blah...

Most of the time, it's not the argon that is in itself horrible--it's the lack of creativity. I hear the words you're saying. Try some new ones now. I heard the words "collegiality," and "repertoire" enough times that if they were pennies, I could have fed all of China for a week. Use a different word. Seriously. It's not that hard to say something different that means the same thing.

Practice what you preach.

There was one poster that listed either facts or suggestions to run a quality classroom. The first thing on the list was "The teacher talks too much." The instructor spent the first 45 minutes talking about her family, especially her son, Nicaragua Nick. The second thing on the list said, "Get to the point." Her 45 minute spiel was for a purpose (according to her). Nobody knows what it was.

On it went for four days. Four. Life hath not sucked so much. I may take some time on Monday to show some of the things we did to stay sane. But my battery is all but dead. So I'll have to post this.

Let the Kids Blow it Up

I swear I had posted on Monday. Sorry, folks. 

Well, there's a lot to yammer on about this week--reflections on the best amateur fireworks show I've seen, the most horrid and vomit-inducing class I've taken in recent years, and my lunch with former American Poet Laureate Ted Kooser. I've decided to talk about Ted tomorrow and build up my thoughts on my current class (they are many, though in the same vein of hatred and boredom), leaving tonight's post about fireworks.

I've liked 4th of July all my life, but I don't know that I've loved it. It's always been fun and had been a good reason for my mom to make homemade ice cream (peach--it's the bomb-diggity). But growing up in Colorado meant we never got a lot of leeway in the explosives department. With fear of forrest fires, the biggest things we could set off were fountains, and as cool as some of those can be, they stay entertaining for only so long. I'm told that Nebraska has restrictions, but compared to firework famine that Colorado endures every year, I was about to witness the clashing of heavenly bodies.

New theory, the best fireworks show you'll see will result in leaving high schoolers in charge of everything. On Saturday, we had a church youth group 4th of July party in Bennet. Tell, the host as it was, is a fireworks fanatic. This kid's parents give him his birthday and Christmas presents in the form of fireworks--and he knows how to put on a show. I was excited to see things blow up in the sky, but Tell and his friends coordinated several "light and run away" moments that left a platforms a-blazin' with several fountains sprayin' and artillery shells booming. On the second stage, other families brought their fireworks piles. In this arena, the result was a man tying Black Cats into a nine foot-long bull whip and waving them around his head while they sparked, sprayed, and smoked.

The finale of the night was a group of kids making a pipe bomb from several artillery shells and taping them into a launching tube. They set it off in the street, and the blast sprayed about 100 feet in every direction. I'm pretty sure I now have plans for every summer now.