Posts Tagged ‘raising teenagers’

Culture

February 25, 2015

Real People: Thinking Caucasian Little Boy Questioning Wonder

This Teacher Doesn’t Make It Easy!

 

If my son knew the material,

he could tell me which material the test covered.

But he doesn’t.  Which, of course, he wouldn’t,

seeing as how he needs to learn… it.

But so far I’m fairly certain that it’s biology.

Perhaps a little about cell morphology.

A question about ‘telomeres’  (put me onto chromozones)

and the word ‘pedigree’, plus the terms ‘incomplete’ and ‘non-complete’ dominance,

I see cramped like coded messages inside of little yarn balls of inked drawings

would seem to anchor us in Genetics.  Hoorah!

So we turn to that chapter,

but only portions of it seem to be the portions of it he remembers,

that is, the portions of it he has to study,

at least, as my son sees it.

This teacher doesn‘t make it easy!

 

The teacher gives some of the material in a handout,

some in varied sections of the textbook,

a portion of the material they have all read together,

…some seemingly as short as a paragraph –

while other information he delivered as a lecture in class.

Then there’s the information from the various tests,

which, unfortunately, had to be turned back…

-“What’s the point of a test, if we can’t study what you got wrong?”

-“Dad.  Why do you have to go off on all sorts of things that don’t matter?”

And there’re quizzes, versus major tests, for which the rules are somewhat different.

On the major exams, if you perform poorly, you can re-take the test.

But meanwhile, the class moves on.

-“So which are we working on?!” I exclaim.  “The past, or the present?”

-“Dad, please!  Just settle down.”

 

All the while, we’re in a rush, of course.  Not mine, but his.

There’s chats, meetings and activities

continually being updated by texts from his friends, he takes as we study.

-“Dad!  Dad.  Why do you have to go off on all sorts of things that don’t matter?”

-“Because I’m explaining this to you while you have your head in a phone!’

-“We don’t have time now to read the whole chapter!

Just help me to answer these 10 questions.  Number one:

Some person’s son has a different blood type from either of his parents.  Is this possible?”

-“Oh yeah.  Certainly.”

‘Maybe even probable?’  I mumble.

 

Photo from Google Images

 

February 15, 2015

Editor’s Note:  I have decided to try writing my essays as poems.  This can take a bit longer.  The form of this first essay was suggested to me by a friend.  It is a Pantoum.  Hopefully the repeating lines will add to the rhetorical punch.

Bacon and eggs Gov

How Governmental Succor Undermines Home and Family

 

It’s like he’s being recruited by a gang!

This morning I fixed an onion, sausage omelet, buttered whole grains toast, and slices of orange with tea for breakfast.

And my son refused it!  He stared at it.  “I can’t eat this,” he said.

My wife and I beamed, welcoming him.  Oh! the love of home, hearth and family.   “You have to have breakfast, son.”

 

This morning I fixed an onion, sausage omelet, buttered whole grains toast, and slices of orange with tea for breakfast.

At school my son could get a bacon, egg and cheese pizza plus fruit, milk, or three to four different kinds of cereal, breakfast bars or bagels off the rack.

My wife and I beamed, welcoming him.  Oh! the love of home, hearth and family.   “You have to have breakfast, son.”

“I can get it at school.”

 

At school my son could get a bacon, egg and cheese pizza, plus fruit, milk, or three to four different kinds of cereal, breakfast bars or bagels off the rack.

“Or you could eat right here.”

“I can get it at school.”

“They let us go to the school cafeteria if we have first period study hall,” he said.

 

“Or you could eat right here.”

How is it that a bureaucrat, untucked as his dingy sheer shirt, as he reaches for the ring binder to retrieve this morning’s mandated breakfast menu, can charm our intelligent son?

“They let us go to the school cafeteria if we have first period study hall,” he said.

“Is this how the government serves us?”  I asked the ceiling fixture.

 

How is it that a bureaucrat, untucked as his dingy sheer shirt, as he reaches for the ring binder to retrieve this morning’s mandated breakfast menu, can charm our intelligent son?

To return our hard-earned money to us as fast food pork?

“Is this how the government serves us?”  I asked the ceiling fixture.

Subsidizing my son’s rash dash to be as late as he pleases?

 

To return our hard-earned money to us as fast food pork?

Offering all sorts of empty convenience

Subsidizing my son’s rash dash to be as late as he pleases?

with no more, “Good morning.”

But, “Don’t talk to me, please dad.  I’m in a hurry.”

 

Photos from Google Images


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