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Our eighth-grade vice principal, who served as my immediate supervisor for most of my time teaching at Hughes, retired just a couple of years ago. An avid sports fan, he also served as the athletic director for most of that time. As such, our school dedicated the gym in his name tonight.
Much deserved recognition for an outstanding man.
One of the most disturbing passages in the Bible comes in the Gospel of John after Jesus feeds the 5000. In the passage known as the Bread of Life passage, we read,
Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” (John 6.53-58)
This is an echo of what we read in other gospel accounts about the Last Supper:
While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” (Matthew 26.26-29)
Mark’s account is similar because his gospel is a source for Matthew’s:
While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take it; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it. “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many,” he said to them. “Truly I tell you, I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” (Mark 14.22-25)
And the same for Luke:
And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.” (Luke 22 19, 20)
In all four accounts, Jesus makes the same ghastly claim: eating his body and drinking his blood is essential for human well-being. John 6.52 records the Jews’ response: “Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves, ‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?'” While they’re not saying it outright, they are saying what most modern humans would say were they exposed to this notion for the first time: “This guy’s talking about cannibalism and vampirism!”
Indeed, there are few things in Christianity as disturbing as the cannibalistic ritual at its very core. No matter how one interprets this, it’s simply disgusting and barbaric. Protestants view it symbolically, which seems to lessen the effect, but it’s still troubling to think that millions of Protestants each Sunday symbolically eat human flesh. Catholics have an even stranger view of it, believing that the wafer they eat somehow mysteriously transforms into the actual body of Jesus even though it still looks like a cracker. For them, then, it’s not symbolic cannibalism but actual cannibalism.
If these Christians had not been raised hearing these words on a weekly basis and encountered it in another religion, they would be disgusted. It’s conceivable that Christians would reject whichever religion did teach this primarily on the basis of this teaching.
Yesterday was tough; today was a little better. At least they won a set. "Look at this way," said a friend, "it can only get better."
Losing builds character, but I think we've built enough character this week.
The Boy -- 10 years old today. A decade of the Boy. Double digits.
In the morning, we had his breakfast of choice: bacon, eggs, and cinnamon rolls. Healthy choices. In the evening, dinner too was his choice: crab legs and shrimp.
After cheese cake and ice cream, he and I went to the local guitar store to spend all his present money in one shot:
A third guitar -- a bass.
The Girl and I spent the afternoon at a tournament only half an hour away -- quite a change.
She'd probably rather not talk about that, though. Let's just say it didn't go as well as the team was hoping.
Happy Mess Day
Second Time Around
Third Party
Celebration Day
Birthday
Fifth Birthday Party
Sports and Ice Cream
Seventh Birthday
Day 60: Eighth Birthday
Nine
Boy, am I out of shape. Eight miles and it kicked my butt.
Having my first wreck on the new bike didn't help. Nothing major.
One of those accidents that could have been a lot more serious, and as a result, you ride a lot more cautiously afterward. No real damage done -- except to the ego.
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The title is misleading: to suggest that I do nothing at all during the three hours of state-mandated standardized testing would be to suggest a testing violation. That cannot be: a testing violation means paperwork, emails, meetings, reprimands, and the like. It means notes detailing the testing violation in one’s employment file, and in an absolutely worst-case scenario, it can mean termination of employment.
So what does this proctoring look like? I have three chairs I use in my room for such an occasion: proctoring means walking around the room and looking at everyone then sitting down in one of the chairs. After a few minutes, I get up and do it again, returning to a different chair. And then again.
“Why don’t you use the time to do lesson planning?” Testing violation.
“Why don’t you read?” Testing violation.
“Why don’t you grade papers?” Testing violation.
“Why don’t you write letters?” Testing violation.
There are only two things I can do other than walk around and watch kids take the test: create a seating chart and alphabetize the test tickets (why call them tickets — it’s not like they’re admission slips for something they really want to do). So I take a long time doing both. I work on the seating chart throughout the whole test: it’s like nibbling at a bit of candy you’ve been craving for so long. I alphabetize the test slips slowly and in stages.
And I daydream while staring at the backs students’ heads.
The Boy and I decided yesterday that we'd go mountain biking today after school. He wanted to go to a bike park in a town about half an hour from here, but I said it was too far and suggested Lakeside Park, where L had her sand volleyball practices. He agreed, somewhat reluctantly, but seemed eager about the afternoon when I left this morning.
This afternoon, just as I was finishing up with the bikes and bike rack, he came out to tell me he wasn't ready.
"Well, get ready," I laughed.
"No, I'm not mentally ready. I don't really want to go now."
This is what I was waiting for, almost expecting. It happens more times than I care to experience, and sometimes, K and I take a more gentle approach, trying to get him to see the positives of it, reminding him why he wanted to do it in the first place. Not today. Today, I didn't have the time for that.
"Stinks to be you. We're leaving in a few minutes. Change your shirt and get your shoes on."
I went go get his bike to complete the whole packing process (his goes on last) and saw that his back tire was flat. Again. I'd just replaced the innertube before our last adventure only to have it rupture about a mile from the car. I'd simply taken the older one, which had the slow leak, and patched the leak. It had worked fine for a while.
This put a new crimp in the plan. He was already reluctant to go. Getting a flat in the middle of a ride might turn him off of riding for a while. There might be even more fussing the next time. I decided just to take the chance. I pumped up his tire, saw that it was holding, and packed the bike. When we arrived at the park, it was still holding. About midway through the first part of the ride, though, E noticed it was getting squishy. We went back to the car, pumped it back up, and rode another few miles.
"That was fun," was his verdict.
We the kids posed for a picture well after testing to show the various positions they’d assumed during standardized testing.
It's that time of year: my students are writing their letters to next year's students. The English 8 kids wrote them last Friday; English I will be writing them in a couple of weeks.
The guidelines are simple:
To achieve the second goal, I only allow students one class period to write the letters. The results could theoretically be a little better for the English 8 students if I gave them more time, but part of the charm in the whole exercise is watching next year's students' shock when I tell them at the letters they're reading are in fact first and only drafts.
One young lady's letter demonstrated so wonderfully how much she'd grown as a person from the beginning of the year. J, at the start of the year, was one of the most worrying students: her behavior was often disruptive; she was often disrespectful when teachers called her on her behavior; she rarely did any work, and what she did was not turned in or handed in still incomplete.
Yet over the course of the school year, she's calmed down, learned that butting heads with teachers is counterproductive, and begun doing her work (then doing her best). Her grade has gone from a 62 (just barely passing) to a 84, just six points shy of an A.
One paragraph of her letter reads:
How to stay out of trouble in the 8th grade? Staying out of trouble in the 8th grade is probably one of the most important things you can do. One thing you can do to prevent getting in trouble is to minimize your circle and stop posting things on social media. People take a lot of things to social media and the drama leads into school so now it’s the school’s problem and once you post something on social media there’s literally no going back. It's there forever. Having a lot of friends can cause you to get into a lot of stuff because once one of your friends is beefing with one another they are going to bring you into it because they want you to choose one or the other. My advice to you as a 8th grader right now is to never trust a soul, follow the right path and take it slow, that's how you can be successful in the 8th grade.
There's a certain cynicism in that conclusion, but perhaps it's not entirely awful advice.