"Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-... That's all, folks."

I visited a world I never would have thought to before today.  No, it wasn't Walmart at 5 pm when everyone decides to pick up 57 items and stand in the 20 items or less checkout aisle.  No, it wasn't the inner sanctum of my mind.  No it wasn't the Twilight Zone.  It was. . . (Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek - my interpretation of a horror movie soundtrack)   ... the crawlspace beneath my house.

Yes, that's right - I chose to spend approximately 3 1/2 hours of my God given life beneath my house today with only the ugliest of critters to keep me company.  Now before you go calling the psyche ward on me, here is the reason --- I have --- (Reek, Reek, Reek ...yes, more horror movie soundtrack) --- Termites!  (If you could see me at this moment, my whole body just shuddered)

Can you believe this?  Those disgusting insects that will eat anything wooden structure in just moments are attempting to eat me out of house and home - literally.  I remember laughing at cartoons when I was a kid where animated termites would mow down a mansion in seconds leaving a pile of sawdust and the dweller from within in some compromised position.  Now how in the beep beep was that ever a funny concept?  Homeless is 30 seconds (fall on floor laughing). 

How did it ever occur to me that I might have termites?  Well, I noticed a couple of living room floorboards that looked like they were disintegrating.  Upon closer examination, they looked an awful lot like the stump outside of my house - at least it used to be a stump.  It has become less and less stumplike over the last two years.  Upon close examination of the stump remains and a reexamination of my living room floorboards and a quick visit to Google, I concluded that chances were decent this could be a termite problem.  Apparently, I reached the correct conclusion.  Yea for my brilliance. (note my lack of enthusiasm.  I hope that came across.)

At any rate, I met the nicest Orkin Man who quickly agreed I had indeed reached the correct conclusion.  He validated that with a trip to my crawlspace.  Upon resurfacing from the depths below, this man said I did have termites, they needed to be treated, but they weren't as bad as some of the infestations he had seen.   Yea for that (again, note my lack of enthusiasm).

He also mentioned that there appeared to be a lot of books below and asked if I used the space for storage.  "Absolutely not," I responded quite proudly.  "The renters before I bought the house did.  My husband cleared a bunch of stuff out of there."

"Well, he didn't clear out a bunch of wood and boxes of books."  The Orkin man pulled out a sample text from the dungeon.  (Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek) The most intricate tunnels had been burrowed deep into the tome.  "Termites love book because paper is made of wood."  Apparently. Yea.  (More enthusiasm)

After a nice sitdown at my dining room table, we came to the conclusion that this problem needed to be addressed ASAP.  The Orkin man quickly drew a blueprint of my home, went out and measured, returned and wrote a variety of numbers all over his really nice drawing.  He proceeded to explain that the numbers represented a variety of chemicals (about 5 or 6 in all) that will be sprayed on and into my home.  Some are liquid, some are powders, some are foam which is used simply as a traveling agent that permeates the walls.  They will drill holes into cement, fill with both liquid and foam termite killer, then plug up the holes.  The home will be termite free for three years or any additional treatment will be free.  After that three year period, a yearly Then he told me that the intial treatment would cost ... (Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek) $2500.00.  That's right Twenty-Five Hundred Dollars.  Two Thousand Five Hundred Dollars. 

At this point I was deciding how much I really wanted this house to stand.  Maybe it would be better to let this 40+ year old home be eaten.  Maybe it would be better to let my bank have the house back.  Maybe it would be better to put my cats in the car and just start driving.  Arizona is looking really good to me this time of year!

But then I took some deep breaths.  The sucky thing about being Christian is that I can't just ditch all my responsibilities and leave it for others to clean up.  Darn it. So I bit the bullet and signed.  My Orkin Man gave me good news though. 

First of all, this house is made of oak, not a termite favorite.  They prefer soft woods, which explains why that stump is just about dust but my house is still standing.  The great thing about the stump being soft wood is I don't need to pay anyone to remove that stump!  (lemons - lemonade - you know).

Also, the Orkin Man takes installments if your credit is good.  He is breaking these payment down to a little less than a hundred a month and that won't start until April.  Yea.

So the money I was adding to my check due to taking the ex-husband off my insurance will now go to the Orkin Man.  We got to know each other fairly well, him being in my crawlspace and all.  He has two kids - one in college, the other 19 and working.  He is a good Dad and he and his wife are doing a great job raising their kids to be responsible young people.  His daughter wants to be a teacher.  At least I know the money I am spending will go to a company that hires good people like my Orkin Man. 

Tomorrow I will tell you about my actual 3 1/2 hours in the crawlspace and the rest of my day.  But I am far too tired to get into that tonight.  All I can say is it's worth tuning in for.  I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't lived it.  Luckily, tomorrow is another snow day.  For the first time all year, I am really happy about that.  I am sleeping until 10 tomorrow and I am feeling completely guilt free about it.  Let's just hope that my bed doesn't fall through the floorboards into my crawlspace!

Soap Opera Signing Off

The last moments of the Moriarity Soap Opera are playing out.  I feel sadness, profound sadness that I can find no other option.  I realize this is necessary but can't help feeling that I should be more kind, more caring, more giving.  How, I have no earthly idea, but that feeling somehow pervades.  Think I still need to work on my own self-esteem a bit?

Below - the final moments played out. 

I called CCCS this morning and separated out the ex's debt from mine.  They will call with details of what I own from this point forward in one to two business days.  They will contact the ex.  I told them the situation, then sent the following final e-mail (I hope) to my soon to be ex:


Dear _______,

I am very sorry about the last couple of weeks for you, but as harsh as this may sound, the drinking is clearly contributing to the situations you continue to find yourself in. I can't keep listening to you continue to spiral downward, so I need to end all contact with you. I got hives last week after our phone calls. When you drink, you make poor decisions, and you do and say things you never would if you were sober, so here is what I plan to do at this point. I am cutting all ties with you. It will be better for my health at this point.

I am calling CCCS today, and they are going to separate our credit card payments. What is mine will be mine. What is yours will be yours. I will not cash your check if you do send me one. They will call you today after I have spoken to the counselor. I am sure you will need the money, and I can get by this month. I can't rely on your check, and I need my finances to be more stable to survive. This way, we will both know what we have coming in and going out.

When I can afford it, I will file for divorce, probably sometime during the summer. I hope you will sign a quit claim deed, but if you don't, I'll deal with that later. It isn't that important at this time, and if I could, I would dump the house and get something more manageable for just me. It is a non-issue at this time.

I will send items like your CD's and whatever else as I can afford to.

I wish you luck. I am done with phone calls and e-mails, so please don't contact me anymore. I am sorry I yelled at you the other night, but telling me I should have fought harder when you were choking me last May is not logical (the second time you have told me this), and it angers me when I hear you refuse to own your part. I don't need to relive this anymore, and I am choosing to get on with the life God gave me.

I really hope you get sober, and take good care of yourself. I will pray for you as I always do.

Best Wishes --


I unlocked my e-mail for the sole purpose of one final goodbye, certain he would send it, and he did:  Here was his response:

Hello, still locked it the hospital phone almost dead only got your message in tex w no body. Don't know when I'm out or where ill live I will do will have to file 7 I have nothing sorry just txt me phone on last breathe

Like his phone, our communication just exhaled its final last breath.  I just blocked any future e-mails from him and my phone will ring silent if he does call me or text.  The drama is over.  Now maybe the hives will go away.  Onto the rest of my life.  Thank you, God!

NO MORE SOAP OPERA SUNDAYS, MONDAYS, TUESDAYS, WEDNESDAYS, THURSDAYS, OR FRIDAYS.

The Voice of Reason

Isaiah 30:20-21
20 Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them. 21 Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”


Well, when God wants me to hear His voice, He sends me signs, quiet clear words - often echoed by other people. Today was one of those amazing and powerful days when I realize how much God is speaking. I just need to listen.
I went to church, happy to be in a warm, safe place where I could experience fellowship and just praise God.  One of my Sunday school students ran out in ten degree weather to say hi in his new T-shirt, which he couldn't wait to show me.  We frequently discuss video games, one of his all time favorite topics, and he ran out there to show the phrase of the day so boldly printed in green -  "If I'm not sweating, then I haven't played video games enough!"  It was so nice to see his joy, his excitement, his happiness.

I went inside, said hi to several people, and went to sit down.  It wasn't long at all before the service started - I had gotten there late due to the weather.  I stood up to sing.

We have a wonderful band at our church that plays modern Christian music.  I always feel at peace as I enjoy the songs, a chance to praise god and to focus solely  Him, not on me.  I felt God's love as I gave all the stress of the last few days over to Him and thanked Him for all he has done for me.  I praised him for the neighbors who happened by me yesterday and helped me put on my donut tire after I had a flat.  I thanked Him for making sure I had enough money to have a new tire put on my car and for it happening on a Saturday instead of a school day.  I thanked God for the fact it happened when I was going 10 miles and hour and not 70.  I thanked Him for everything. 

A few songs later, a couple of lyrics hit me to the core and I began to cry.  When I was saved, the same thing happened, and sometimes the lyrics ring of such simple truth that I get emotional.  Anyway, one of the lyrics really pointed out how this world is not the way Jesus intended it to be, that we are supposed to be his hands and feet, show compassion.  I thought of my ex and our conversations the last few days, and my heart ached for him, that he seemed unable to come to terms with his need for alcohol. So when they asked people to come forward if they had special prayer requests, it made sense to go up to the altar.

I asked the pastor to pray for my ex, that he was struggling with his addiction, that he'd lost his job, that he was in the hospital, that he needed God's help.  This act may seem odd to some, but it helped me let go of any self-perceived control over the whole situation.  As my pastor and the congregation prayed for him, one of the elders, who would never speak up as he did today (this according to people who have gone to this church forever), said in a firm, caring voice that resonated through the entire room as I walked back up the aisle, "Realize there is nothing you can do for him.  When he is ready to let God help, God will be there, but there is nothing you can do for him right now." 

I walked to my seat, stunned, tears streaming down my face.  Back in March, April, and May of last year, those were virtually the same words I had heard over and over in my head as I had tried to grapple with the ex's drinking.  This is not your deal. This is not your deal.  I heard that same phrase from the time I asked Jesus to come into my heart to the day I prayed to him when the ex was choking me.  I heard it so often, it almost became my mantra.  The phrase gave me an objective perspective when he ranted and blamed me for his troubles.  And here it was again, the same phrase once again.

Jules told me the same thing the night before when she recommended I block his e-mails, I just read a fellow blogger's comment to my previous post, and she said the exact same thing. (Thanks, Cheryl)

 Wow!  I get it.  I get it and I let it all go to God.  If I truly have the faith I claim to have, how dare I question God's ability to take care of this man and his struggles.  How dare I interfere or enable.  I get it.

Time to move forward and listen to what God truly wants me to do to glorify His name. I will never stop praying for this man, but I think I am finally past my false belief that I have any power to help him.  I will leave that awesome task to God.

Chaos - Only in Greek Mythology from Now On!

Well, I finally had to block my ex's e-mails  (Thanks, Jules, for your objective wisdom in this matter).  I can no longer read his drunken nonsense.  Tonight's final episode will be just that -- the last. 

It all started a few days ago.  I got a one line e-mail that stated "I think I am about to get fired". 

The last time we spoke a month or so ago, we had created an agreement regarding some credit card debt we were cleaning up.  We had struck a deal with Consumer Credit Counseling before splitting up.  After he had left the state in a hurry to avoid having to go to court over domestic violence (I can't even believe I am writing this in first person!  It feels like the plot line from the Lifetime Movie Channel!), we developed a respectful tone with one another.  He was working again, and he appeared to be moving ahead with his life.  Occasionally we talked -- Our would have been 7th anniversary, an occasional How's the Weather e-mail...nothing too intense, and that was working for me. 

Then the bills began to pile up.  I realized I had taken on all of the debt except his car and the lawn mower I still had in the garage, and I was sinking into poverty fast.  At the time, it seemed easier to take on the debt if he would just go away.

After having to go to the emergency room and racking up over $1000.00 in emergency bills and having the car break down, I accepted that I couldn't pay his bills as well as mine.  I called CCC to see what could be done.  They said we could separate his debt from mine which would lower my payment to 250 - less than half of what I was currently paying.  I called him with their number. 

He hit the roof, said I had everything - at least $30,000 dollars worth of stuff in the house which belonged to him, not to mention the house

(By the way, I bought the house and have paid the mortgage ever since we have had it, but because we are married, it is partially his unless he signs a quit claim deed)

to which I hit the roof and said had he not almost choked me to death and left the state that we wouldn't be having this discussion. 

A little later he called me back, and agreed to send me most of the money that was his half of the CCC debt, and I would continue to pay the full amount.  I had the option to cut his debt free and I didn't do it.  I sure wish I had done that then.

Since the drunken anniversary call, I hadn't really heard from him, and I was settling into my workaholic routine quite nicely.  The ex sent his almost half of the debt for one month, and I had hope that we were treating each other fairly and kindly and moving forward with our separate lives.

Then I got that one line e-mail - "I think I am about to get fired."

I was a bit shocked.  This man has never been fired - he always quits jobs because he gets bored or feels he is undervalued.  But fired?  Momentarily, I thought of my money situation and then shook that from my mind.  How callous of me.    How was he?  Do I respond?  How do I respond?  So I e-mailed back:  So sorry!  What happened?  I'll pray for you.  Call if you want.

Now that had to be the all time dumbest thing I could ever have e-mailed back.  My dear friend Jules has metaphorically shaken me through the phone, and rightfully so!  How could I fall for the feel sorry for me routine once again?  But I did.

My reward for that phone call was a drunken spiel about how he had rescued a co-worker from a snowbank because she had called at two in the morning saying her husband would literally KILL her if he knew about this.  So, even he had a couple of beers (whatever that means) he drove to pick her up and took her to his place to stay overnight out of the kindness of his heart.  Then he stayed up all night talking with her - but there was nothing sexual (like I even care!) and he called in the next day because he had been up all night.  They unfairly fired him, he stated, because his boss said this woman has been in an abusive relationship for over 14 years and that's why they have Human Resource department.  So the ex shouts back that he was helping someone and if that was worth firing him, then so be it. HUH?????

At any rate, after I heard the whole story, I asked him why he is still drinking.  Of course, that was the craziest thing I could have ever said, according to him...The conversation deteriorated from there.  He proceeded to ask me again if there was any chance for us to get back together (I told him no), then attempted to serenade me with songs he had once sung to me.  Mercifully, I was saved by one of my girlfriends who was returning my call from earlier, so I wished him well and told him I had to go.

Then I got other e-mails where it was clear the alcohol was taking over once again - ones where he called himself evil, etc.  I wrote back saying he wasn't evil.  He was saved by God, so he couldn't be.  If they don't fire him, I hoped he would quit drinking, and if they did fire him, I hoped he would quit drinking.  Then he responded that those were better words written than any song he had ever penned. 

He then texted (there's another darn 20 cents of mine he wasted!) that he was sending the money he owed a little late because he wanted to see how much his final check would be.

Then -- the piece de resistance ... This e-mail:
Friday, January 21, 2011  1:58 AM  (Yep, I'm guessing he was drinking and e-mailing yet again)
Hello baby
It has taken me 8 months to work the courage to write this because i alwas revered you more than you will ever know.  I have had over 40 employees and my sister in law call me this week to etell me I am a good man.  I lost my job because I went and saved a woman in distress.  I thought about it over and over and wouldnt change a thing

When you said my drinking was not your deal...and you couldnt help ... I died that day

I only ever wanted a woman strong enough to fight for me like I would her

I am sorry things turned out like they did

You could own me if you wanted

You just didnt realize

And In front of Jesus....I miss you soo much, now my life will get really bad

Be good


Ummmm...ok....When I read this, I could see the self-pity, the blaming of others for his own choices, the addiction refusing to allow him to own his behavior, the denial, the woe is me. Yet, after seven years, I couldn't shake off any of that enough to ignore the e-mail.  So I looked up one of his cousin's phone number on Facebook and left a message asking him to check on the man to be sure he was ok stating I really didn't want to create any more drama, but just wanted to be sure he was ok.

Then not a minute later, I get another text message stating  "Guess things happen for a reason.  I 'm in the hospital"

Well, that freaked me out.  I called and he answered.  Then he proceeds to tell me that I should have fought harder when he put his hands around my throat - kicked him off me. 

OK  -- silly me, of course I should have done that.  What was I thinking????

I lost it and screamed at him.  I told him that I am tired of his excuses, that he needs to own his behaviors, that drinking is causing his problems, and I am not going to take his calls anymore.  He hung up on me.  I am not proud of my tirade.  It wasn't graceful or kind.  It was me being frustrated.  I allowed myself to fall for the drama yet again.

He told me this same thing (I should have fought him off when he was choking me) the day he called on  our would have been anniversary.  Enough is enough is enough.  Tonight is the end of this insanity.  His cousin texted me...I sent him Tim's number, told him he says he is in the hospital and we argued over the phone, and thanked him for checking on him. 

Monday I will separate our CCC accounts and I will file my taxes separate married.  Then I will get to saving my money and get this divorce finalized.  I have had enough of the drama, am no longer interested in trying to rescue a grown man, and am truly enjoying my very undramatic life.  If I want a little Chaos, I'll read Greek Mythology from now on!

We Shall Overcome

Three snow days and we finally went back school yesterday.  I had a Monday/Friday opportunity to teach students the major concepts necessary to pass the state test in April.  Mind you, if I don't teach them well enough, the principal is certain he will be fired as well as half our staff.  This all due to some pie in the sky figure the state and federal government dreams up in order to make sure all are students reach proficiency by 2014.  The chance of pushing the test back is minimal at best.  No, they usually just tack the days to the end of the year when all students feel they are technically out because the big tests have already been given. 

We are still wading through the same story I started a week and a half ago that I was planning to use to cement their understanding of propaganda.  I have also had them write out reading strategy responses in their journals, and I plan to put them into pairs where they have to complete graphic organizers that focus on different skills based on their reading comprehension MAP scores. 

Give it to them as homework, you might think.  Ahhh.  Not if you want it read.  Kids don't do homework anymore.  Nobody really makes them.  I even tried to spark up my homework by telling kids to do the following assignment:

1.  Watch a TV commercial
2.  Analyze commercial:  Identify product being sold and target audience.  What persuasive/propaganda techniques are being used?  Is this commercial being used persuasively or as propaganda?  Why do you feel that way.
3.  Text response to number I gave them where I have a poll set up for the class.  (see http://www.polleverywhere.com/ if you are interested in trying this with your students.  It is a cool site!)

I had four incomplete responses texted to me, one well written e-mail response from my overachiever, several who took the initiative and wrote the homework out on paper because they had difficulty with the texting instructions they had to write out in their agenda.  The rest?  Whiners who cried out "I couldn't get it to work" and so many others who said "What homework"?

I think I may be a little surly as well because just about every one of my students who I friended on Facebook think I have a direct connection to God's weather plans and my district's decisions regarding school.  For some reason they all seem to think I know whether we are going to have school or not.  Never mind that I tell them over and over that, just like them, I find out when they find out - from channel 27 or from the onecall system our school sends out with recorded messages.  Coincidentally, it's those same students who said "What homework" in class.  when I asked them about it on Facebook, and I explained it to them several times on facebook both en masse and individually, they said they would do it...I have this really great bridge I can sell 'ya ...

And here we are, at the beginning of a three day weekend -- That's right - Monday is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  Don't get me wrong.  I am so glad King finally received a day that our country honors him.  But have you ever tried to get 7th graders, or any graders, for that matter to get back to work after a multitude of snowdays (I think we have been to work in January a total of six days this year - if that!) and the threat of more nasty weather next week?  Especially after having just been off  for Christmas Break.  All the routines have been forgotten, the expectations, the work ethic.  It's like starting from scratch. 

With all this being said, I just received my Take One box in the mail, a program that lets you turn in the first portfolio entry for the National Board Certification process.  When I got the box, I remembered reading the first few standards in the instruction manual and thinking - "Wow.  They don't cut you any slack for being in a difficult environment, for having difficult students.  There are no excuses in this program for students not learning. It is the teacher's job to figure out how to teach each student.  Period.

So maybe it is quite appropriate that MLK Day is Monday.  I will be singing that hymn and applying it to my life on so many levels.  Yes - -We Shall Overcome!

I am Not a Rock Star!

A fellow blogster - Tracy of "My Thoughtful Spot" brought up a really good topic which deserves a shout out followed by my own rant.  That topic is ...  my intense dislike of shopping. 

I can imagine the thoughts you may be having right this moment --
Shut up!  You hate shopping? But what do you do on vacations?  How do you spend your time on weekends?  How in the world do you ever enjoy Christmas?  What in the world do you wear? Rags?  What do you eat?  Roadkill? Are you really a woman?

Yes, I definitely hate shopping. I actually relax on vacations and weekends spending money on gas and needless items that would clutter up my home.   I buy whole wardrobes at one time so I can do all the shopping at once, and when I find a brand of slacks that fits, I buy in bulk.   If I can afford Christmas presents, I shop on the Internet.    I shop for food but usually go when the clerks are the only people in the store besides the shelf stockers.  Yes, I am a woman - and just like Oprah - I am not even a litttle bit gay!

Tracy - I thought I was the only woman in the entire world who detested shopping.  Thank you.  This is sort of like when I found out there were actually other women in the world who did not have a biological clock that was ticking - that there were other women who felt no urge to procreate or breast feed.  You have validated my non-shopping genetic disposition.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I have never liked to shop, and that feeling has only intensified over the years.  I have an aversion to crowds, which makes me wonder why I ever used to dream of being a famous musician.  I would have ended up killing the very fans I yearned for when they rushed the stage.  (Well, not the cute guys)  Of course, maybe that's why my dream was to be a famous jazz saxophone player - the venues where most jazz groups play are usually much smaller - unless you get to the David Sanborn or Kenny G level.

This aversion to crowds impacts my teaching as well. When kids rush me - which usually happens when I am handing out candy or sodas OR when grades come out and they are missing work, I get pretty claustrophobic. 

Students (as they are rushing forward at top speed): 
Ms. Mort - I turned that in!  Rembrandt over here saw me do it!  or I was absent when you did that! 
Mrs. Mort: 
Get away from me! (chair in hand fending off the masses)   I am not a rock star.  Go sit down.  I will talk with each of you seperately!  Go on-  get to your seat!  Back Off!

My seventh graders are always a little mystified by my reaction, but since I am cool most of the time, they forgive this one idiosyncracy, albeit begrudgingly.  The ones who are far away turn around and trudge back to their seats while the closer ones give me their cutest smile and once more try to engage me in conversation.

Student: 
Mrs. Mort - just one quick question - I turned this in or Mrs. Mort!  Rip Van Winkle saw me turn this in after his nap!  or Please, Mrs. Mort, just look at mine - it'll just take a sec!

Mrs. Mort (again with chair in hand): 
I said get away!  Back off!  Don't make me call security.  I am not Lindsey Lohan!

Students in seventh grade often struggle to realize they are not the center of the universe.  They will eventually listen to me if I repeat something often enough.  The remainder of the mob  adoring fans return to their seats and thrust their hands to the sky and shout out my name doing their best Horshack impersonations.  (See past episodes of the sit com Welcome Back, Kotter)  I have learned from experiences like this to preface the Passing Out of Grades with the following speech:

I am going to give you your current grade.  Please hold all questions.  Do NOT, for any reason get out of your seat.  I will not answer any questions until I am ready.  When I do answer questions, I will call on you to come up one at a time. 

That being said, I still get rushed but on a more managable level.  I guess I should repeat my speech several times before I hand out the grades.

I am not sure when this aversion to crowds began, maybe when I waited tables.  "Rushes" scared me because everyone wanted something all at once.  When I shop, I get really frustrated by people who hog the aisle or congregate there.  It really hasn't mattered the geographic location of the store - it seems that people congregate in grocery store aisles in all parts of the country.  Now I understand why Walmart's recent ad campaign emphasized wider aisles.  The only problem is that now more people cluster together.  It looks like a mini riot minus punches being thrown (customers save that for Christmas). 

Now that I live in a small town, I realize shopping is often a social outlet.  We have only one Walmart and one Kroger's in our small town.  Surrounding towns don't even have that, so Mt. Sterling is often the destination for towns east of Lexingtonand/Winchester.   So when people shop, they often see family, friends, and acquaintaces buying the week's produce or meat.  This prompts a one hour mmeting of the minds in front of the hamburger.  When the friends realize they are blocking the aisle, many look at you as if you have committed the most egregious faux pas when you try to grab a pound of beef.  Sometimes whole families have met in front of the tampons.  Tampons are embarassing enough to buy without having to wade through a half dozen men to do so.  Yep - she's on her period - Don't piss her off; she just might go postal on 'ya.

Now, when I go shopping, I prepare myself know full well I will undoubtedly uncounter a group of my students since this is the only Walmart near their county, and when I do, will undoubtedly rush me if I have candy in the cart.  Needless to say, I NEVER go shopping right after I have handed out grades!

Objects in the Mirror are Closer than They Appear

Once in a while, I think that mankind is evolving, that it’s more cerebral than its animalistic predecessors were. And then . . . I have to break up a fight between two middle school students, and I am forced rethink my position once again and ultimately accept the fact that the human race has not fully emerged from the dark ages. We may have moved into that time just after the sun peaks over the horizon, but not much further..


Bullies are not always easy to spot. You might think they all have to shop from the Eddie Bauer's Big and Tall catalog, but you would be sadly mistaken. Bullies come in all shapes, sizes; they are both male and female. The bully is an odd species to me, one that camouflages its true intentions in Eddie Haskell mannerisms and seems utterly shocked when caught tormenting some unfortunate.

In fact, in my teaching career, it seems to me that most bullies are not that big or that tall. The bully seems to come in a more compact form and stands ready to battle at the slightest provocation. One accidental bump in the hallway and said bully becomes the Tasmanian Devil. Just seconds ago a jovial, good natured creature, the bully quickly loses all sense of reality and sees only the face of his offender with a miniature fistprint planted on his cheek as penance for the unintentional transgression. This phenomenon is called “Short Man’s Syndrome” in teaching circles. Teachers learn size doesn't always factor in when it comes to bullies.

I see this same behavior in my cats: Elvis, my six pound runt thinks nothing of tearing after my fourteen pound gentle giant. Goldie’s eyes always have that “What just happened?” look as he zooms past me and races for the door - sometimes so quickly that he forgets to see if the door is open and knocks himself out. This always disappoints Elvis as he is all fired up. Inevitably, Elvis rids himself of his adrenalin by stampeding up and down the hallway several times, and then walking around like he is Popeye, the Sailor Man.

I have seen similar scenarios played out when those tiny obnoxious Chihuahuas who think they own everything that they see will chase you down the street when you are only trying to burn off a few calories on a relaxing walk. How utterly humiliating it is it must beto have to run as fast as you can to escape a yapping two pound dog.

You would think humans, having the larger brain and the ability to reason, should be able to suppress the urge to pummel one another, right? Unfortunately, the answer to that is – Uhhhh…no.

Case in point, played out so many times in so many schools in so many places. The brilliant young man  or woman certain to succeed in any profession is ridiculed for his or her intelligence by the the immature, less intelligent person. Said immature, less intelligent person, due to personal insecurities and fewer brain cells, hurls a volley of insults about the “nerd’s” looks, lack of coordination, family ancestry – it doesn’t really matter the insult as the intent is always the same – make the other person feel less important and less worthwhile. For years the Brain, due to a peaceful nature, tries to ignore it or let it go. This, unfortunately, is as good as giving the bully the go ahead. “Hmmm…won’t resist? OK –when I feel bad about myself or want to look tough in front of others, I will pick on the passive smart guy because most of my peers resent his intelligence anyway.”

Occasionally the ones being bullied fight back, and I must admit that I am not really sorry to see bullies get their comeuppance. Immediately, this makes me painfully aware that I am not far removed from the caveman myself. But after seeing the same bully target many people, I tire of seeing a few rotten apples make other students’ lives miserable. While I would rather not have students fight at all, sometimes bullies only seem to understand good old-fashioned butt whippin'.

I wonder if our countries work on this same principle. Did you ever notice that some of the smallest countries cause the most problems for the world? Look at Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, North Korea… All these countries pick, pick, pick, pick, pick -- until someone says “Hey, that’s enough. I have tried talking with you, ignoring you, avoiding you, not playing with you, and yet you still insist upon being a bully. Therefore, it’s time to fight back.” Hence the military presence big countries often exercise on smaller ones.

Invariably, the bully – be it a person or a country, uses baser instincts – and they prepare for battle. Humans taunt verbally then put up their dukes, countries attempt diplomatic relations then threaten nuclear holocaust.  The neanderthal seems to be closer than it appears when looking at it in the mirror.  I hope we get smarter or we can run faster.