Tales of the Invisible Ben

Where Was I...?

As the calendar slowly turns towards 2006, I find myself reflecting on the past. And I stretch my mind back to the past trying to recall exactly where I found myself...

Yesterday: New Haven, recovering from an exciting holiday party held at the home of the Maestro. Some will say that I'm crazy, but there is nothing quite as soothing on a rainy December evening as a midnight dip in a scalding hot tub.

The Day Before Yesterday: At my parent's house sifting through the debris and assorted detritus that makes up my past. Despite having recently obtained a dog and the fact that my sister is planning to attend med school nearby starting next fall, my mother remains convinced that the time is drawing near for us to move. So every time I come home, I am asked to do something to help out on that front. This visit, I actually accomplished a little bit...throwing out a full garbage bag of expendable paperwork (mostly humor from my early days on the Internet) that had been filed with old correspondence, creative writings from high school, and faded photographs. The rest of the material was safely tucked away for safe keeping.

The Day Before That: Filing papers, and watching the new King Kong, which was fun, and worth both the money spent on the ticket and the 3 hour plus running time, but left me with relatively little to say coming out. Everyone knows the basic plot and no matter how many stampeding dinosaurs, Depression-era automobiles, or members of Tenacious D thrown into the mix, it's still just the tale of a monkey and his gal. The tragedy's been told...

Two Weeks Ago: Finishing my graduate school applications. If I wanted to go anywhere during winter break, that would have to be done. And it is done. 6 applications. Hopefully, someone will deem me worthy of consideration and I'll escape from Underwood. It's in their hands now...

1 Month Ago: Watching my computer die. Still puzzling how to recover my old e-mails...

6 Months Ago: Playing pub trivia and enjoying summer vacation. Those were good times. If I can make it 6 more months, perhaps I'll get there again.

1 Year Ago: Attending New Year's festivities downtown. Running into Underwood students at 3 AM at a diner. Receiving prank phone calls. Hating my newfound notoriety.

2 Years Ago: Spending New Year's at home watching Indiana Jones DVDs. Lesson Planning.

6 Years Ago: Welcoming the new "millennium" in my basement with friends from home. Walking out to the park to watch the sky.


I could go on...but honestly, things get hazier after this point. I know that for at least 4 or 5 years, New Year's in my basement was a proud tradition, but with all of us going off our scattered ways, traditions in connection with the holiday have dwindled. This year, I'm returning to the tradition established 2 years ago of spending the night by myself lesson planning and maybe watching movies. It's not that glamorous...but if I play my cards right I can have a full weekend (Sunday and Monday) to recover before going back to school on Tuesday.

In any event, congratulations to all of you reading this. You and I have both survived another year. Let's hope we can do the same with the next one...

Cheers.

Shoddy Dream Aquariums

Normally, I find that real life provides sufficient fodder for this blog, but with school out on break and me blogging from the deepest, darkest reaches of New England, I am at somewhat of a loss for material.

Fortunately, my subconscious has provided the solution to my problem.

Consider the following dream I had last night, presented in italics to distinguish from the harshly regular world of reality.

I'm in a classroom at Underwood High. The students in the room are from my first period chemistry class, but instead of sitting at lab tables as is the norm, they are in desks, clustered in groups of four.

The lesson I am presenting focuses on density, specifically how one should go about determining the volume of an irregularly shaped object. It's a standard procedure requiring nothing more than a graduated cylinder and a pre-measured amount of water. Placing the object, in this case a lump of clay, in the liquid causes the water level to rise such that the new volume measurement increases an amount equal to the volume of the object.

As stated, a relatively simple procedure. And yet, for some reason, I have placed the graduated cylinder in a rather large aquarium. Barring this relatively minor irregularity, the lesson proceeds as it has many times before...at least at first. I explain the procedure and place the clay in the water. The water level rises, but in the murky world of my dream, I can actually see the water level rising slowly, millimeter by millimeter until it reaches what should be its final destination...

And then it keeps going. The water level keeps rising, eventually overflowing from the cylinder and filling up the aquarium. My students ask where the water is coming from and I, increasingly confused, become flustered as I try to explain what is occurring. The aquarium begins to fill up steadily and its sides start to shake slightly.

Finally, the rickety old thing can't handle the pressure and the walls burst. I, standing right next to explosion, am knocked over in the subsequent deluge. And all goes black...

When I regain consciousness, I find myself in the room with one of the school's disciplinarians and the superintendent, witnessing a conversation between the two on the merits of group work in the classroom. And they turn and ask me for my opinion, and as I, drenched and confused, am about to respond...

I wake up feeling neither wiser nor especially well-rested.

I think I liked it better when my work life stayed out of my dreams. Things made much more sense that way.

Tastes Like Burning!

Waldo. Harry Potter. Jimmy Neutron. Spiderman. The list of nicknames I've acquired at Underwood high school spans the pop cultural canon, but all have one underlying thing in common. All of them were student derived. In other words, I don't walk down the hall to say hello to another teacher and then here them call me "Waldo" instead of Mr. _________. It just doesn't happen.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I found out from the head of the special education department on Monday that I may have earned a new nickname with the staff: "Fire Marshal Bill" (Although other variations, i.e. Fire Marshal Ben", may also be acceptable.) Now, so far as nicknames go this is rather innocuous, despite its hints towards pyromania and irresponsible behavior. Regardless of these faults however, I suppose I earned the title given what happened a week ago last Friday.

It was Friday the week before the week before winter break and the teachers at Underwood were beginning to feel the strain. Students were chomping at the bit to get out of doing anything that even remotely resembled work. There were fights. There were fits. There were kids in the halls. The administration was being its usual well-meaning, but ultimately bumbling self. It was the usual routine. And we needed to vent. So a few of us gathered together at the end of the day to eat leftover holiday candy and talk shop. Not much to report except that all of us agreed that the next week would be a joke, but we still had to teach something.

Our conversation broke up around 4 or 4:30, and I went downstairs to the ninth grade offices to work on interim reports, which were due to be mailed on Monday. Upon returning to my classroom, I sat down to grade some quizzes so I could have a nice, relaxing weekend. Unfortunately, I got sidetracked when a few of my students, having just finished wrestling practice, dropped by to find out their grades. Of course, ths led to inevitable demonstrations of color-changing hydrates and the electrolysis of water, with side discussions of the Hindenberg explosion and the nation's strategic helium reserves.

But finally, around 5:30 or so, I can start grading. Because I make multiple versions of my quizzes, this can often be a time consuming process, but around two hours later, I had basically finished off. And then, with only 5 papers left to go, the fire alarm went off. It was about 7:45 and I initially figured it was a malfunction of the sort we had experienced earlier in the week during our benchmark testing.

So I wandered out into the hallway. It smelled like smoke. Now the wiser thing to do would likely have been to simply pack my stuff and leave, but I decided to follow the smell. When I turned the corner near the counselor's office, I saw something startling. The corridor from the counselor's office to the main office was entirely filled with gray smoke. Visibility was practically nil.

At this point, I realized two things: 1. This was not a malfunction or a drill. 2. I should really just pack my stuff and leave.

I scrambled back to my classroom, shoved all my remaining papers into my bag, and went downstairs to look for the custodians and make sure they knew what was going on. I soon caught up with them however and learned that the fire had started in the auditorium. One had even looked under the door and seen flames! We gathered behind the school at the maintenance entrance and waited for the fire department to arrive. When the first fire truck arrived, yours truly was the one who led them inside to show where things were going on. The fireman's response?

"This ain't no drill! We've got a job!!!"

After that, the pace picked up. Around a half dozen firetrucks, the police, the school district, and two news crews were on the scene. Meanwhile, I was struggling with my cell phone's dying battery to contact my principal. I was the only one who had her number and figured that she would probably appreciate knowing that her school was, how do you say, ah yes, ON FIRE! Unfortunately, the cell was dying, and the only way to recharge it was to walk around the building past the fire engines and news crews, get to my car, and plug in the charger.

Which I did, and after a few minutes was able to leave a message on my principal's voicemail. When she finally called back, I explained the situation. She was a good half hour to an hour away, but promised to be there shortly. I stuck around, figuring that would be the best way to find out what had happened and also to let others know that the principal had been contacted. By the time the principal arrived at 9, the fire, which appeared to be electrical, had been put out, but not before scorching the back corner of our already subpar auditorium to a blackened crisp. The fire marshal asked all of us who had been at the school what we had seen, and by the time things had finished with that, it was nearly 9:30.

What with cleanup, several lengthy conversations with the principal and vice-principal, and everything else attached, I ended up at school that night until 10:15, making it the single longest day of work I have ever had. And I still hadn't gotten dinner! So by the time I got home and had some food, it was 11, my quizzes were still ungraded, and I was exhausted.

But I had learned a valuable lesson: Never stay at school working until 8:00 on a Friday because it will catch on fire.

This was the second actual fire I have been involved with at Underwood this year. I had hoped it would be the last, but on Monday, another fire broke out in one of the stairwells. In contrast to the other two, whose exact causes remain up for debate, this one was almost certainly caused by a student playing with matches or a lighter near the insulation for the school's heating pipes.

It was enough to make one of my colleagues wonder yesterday if the school would still be there when we got back after New Year's.

The short answer: probably.
The long answer: probably...but for how long after that?

Happy winter holiday, ladies and gents. And be careful as you roast your chestnuts over that open fire.
Trust Fire Marshal Ben...those things can be a hazard!

Thank God...An Intelligently Designed Ruling!

I have not, as yet, had a chance to peruse all 130+ pages of the ruling in Kitzmiller v. Dover School Board court case. However, from what little I have seen, it appears that Judge John Jones (an alliteratively named jurist, if ever there were one!) has ruled on the side of science.

One favorite highlight that I have seen is posted below. I wonder if the folks in Kansas will reconsider their redefinition of science after reading it:

To be sure, Darwin's theory of evolution is imperfect. However, the fact that a scientific theory cannot yet render an explanation on every point should not be used as a pretext to thrust an untestable alternative hypothesis grounded in religion into the science classroom or to misrepresent well-established scientific propositions.

Preach on, Brother Jones! Remember the teachings of the Flying Spaghetti Monster! Intelligent design isn't a valid scientific argument!

Can I get an Amen from the crowd?

The Movie Quote Contest: Back With a Vengeance

The winter break is nearly upon us, and longtime readers of this blog know that can only mean one thing! Yes, it's that most glorious of holiday traditions: the annual Invisible Ben Movie Quote Contest!
This year's contest has a slight twist. In the past, I included some movies that I had not actually seen. This year, every film on the list, I've watched in their entirety, from the studio logo until the closing credits.

Otherwise, the format is the same as always: 50 films, 50 quotes. See how many you can identify!

Answers will be posted around New Year's.

1. Joey, have you ever been to a Turkish prison?

2. I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.

3. You'll get your Iron Cross now, "Von" Ryan!

4. Fat man, you shoot a great game of pool.

5. I am not an animal! I am a human being! I am a man!

6. Have you ever been in love, Mac?
No, I have always been a bartender.

7. I'm sorry, Wazowski, but Randall said I'm not allowed to fraternize with victims of his evil plot.

8. We would have injected vitamin C if only they had made it illegal.

9. Commander Cody, the time has come. Execute Order 66.

10. Scottie, do you believe that someone out of the past - someone dead - can enter and take possession of a living being?

11. In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God.

12. I'm very discreet... but I will haunt your dreams.

13. Jimmy had never asked me to whack somebody before - but now he's asking me to go down to Florida and do a hit with Anthony? That's when I knew I would never have come back from Florida alive.

14. Rise and shine, campers, and don't forget your booties 'cause it's cooooold out there today.

15. I am going to go with the balloon animal display for the kids, and then when she comes near, guess who’s the broken man with the haunted past?

16. I hope you die!
That'll be the day.

17. There's a million fine looking women in the world, dude. But, they don't all bring you lasagna at work. Most of 'em just cheat on you.

18. Certainly, in the topsy-turvy world of heavy rock, having a good solid piece of wood in your hand is often useful.

19. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.

20. That's funny...that plane's dustin' crops where there ain't no crops.

21. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.

22. Dear Buddha, please bring me a pony and a little plastic rocket

23. Bring back life form. Priority One. All other priorities rescinded.

24. He told them to look not at the facts, but at the meaning of the facts. Then he said the facts had no meaning.

25. You know, once I was thinking of quitting when I was diagnosed with brain, lung and testicular cancer all at the same time. But with the love and support of my friends and family, I got back on the bike and won the Tour de France five times in a row. But I'm sure you have a good reason to quit.

26. I'll count three, and if you're not out of the house by then, I'll loose the dogs on you.
If you say "three," mister, you'll never hear the man count "ten."

27. You know what I think? You're stealing gold, that's what I think. We're fighting Saddam and dying, and you're stealing gold.

28. Can I get a copy of this? I'd like to send it to the kids from the show "Full House."

29. You guys are about to write a story that says the former Attorney General, the highest-ranking law enforcement officer in this country, is a crook! Just be sure you're right.

30. I beg your pardon, but aren't you Guy Haines?

31. Chuck. Chuck. It's Marvin - your cousin, Marvin BERRY. You know that new sound you're looking for? Well, listen to this.

32. You're bleeding, man.
I ain't got time to bleed.

33. Damn it boss, I like you too much not to say it. You've got everything except one thing: madness!

34. What did one shepherd say to the other shepherd? Let's get the flock out of here!

35. Finance is a gun. Politics is knowing when to pull the trigger.

36. You see, their young enter through the ears and wrap themselves around the cerebral cortex. This has the effect of rendering the victim extremely susceptible to suggestion. Later as they grow follows madness and death.

37. Technically speaking, the operation is brain damage, but on a par with a night of heavy drinking. Nothing you'll miss.

38. Ma chère mademoiselle. It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now, we invite to relax, let us pull up a chair, as the dining room proudly presents... your dinner.

39. I have learned from experience that a modicum of snuff can be most efficacious.

40. Why would a man leave his apartment three times on a rainy night with a suitcase and come back three times?

41. In the end, it was luck. We were this close to nuclear war, and luck prevented it.

42. And so, Theodore Donald Karabotsos, in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been, we commit your final mortal remains to the bosom of the Pacific Ocean, which you loved so well. Good night, sweet prince.

43. Take this guy... armed robbery, double homicide. Has a taste for theatrics, like you. He leaves a calling card.

44. Your mother's in here, Karras. Would you like to leave a message? I'll see that she gets it.

45. Now I'm gonna have to get rid of my outlaw name, it just won't work anymore. My real name's Wyatt Earp.

46. My boy says he can eat fifty eggs, he can eat fifty eggs.

47. Hey, what's-a matter, you no understand English? You can't come in here unless you say, "Swordfish."

48. This is blood for blood and by the gallon. These are the old days, the bad days, the all-or-nothing days. They're back! There's no choice left. And I'm ready for war.

49. This weekend is not about me. It is about you. I'm gonna show you a good time. We're gonna drink a lot of good wine. We're gonna play some golf. We're gonna eat some great food and enjoy the scenery and we are going to send you off in style, mon frere.

50. Look Dave, I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over.

Married to the Mob Mentality

A few nights ago, the Invisible Dad returned to town for a meeting and we had the chance to meet up with his parents (the Invisible Grandparents, as it were), for a fancy dinner and a chance to discuss all the exciting things we had not had a chance to share in the week and a half following Thanksgiving. As was the case on that occasion, the meal, for me at least, had an avian focus, although ostrich is arguably the most bovine of poultry so far as texture and flavor are concerned. And although both meals had potato themed side dishes and pie for dessert, enough interesting items had happened during that week to provide some distinguishing features for later blog entries.

Take, for example, the tale of my fellow chemistry teacher and his first period honors class. I have a class during that period, so I only heard about the full story later in the day from scattered sources, but the basic gist is as follows. First period, my colleague had to make a few extra copies, and since his classroom is right across the way from the science office, he left his juniors alone for a moment to run things off. Upon returning, he found the door was closed and, strangely enough, locked. A quick run through the keychain indicated that the door's main lock was not involved, but rather the door's interior latch.

It was about here that one unfamiliar with Underwood High School might wonder why the doors would even have an interior latch. I have yet to determine a definitive answer on this point, but I suspect that it has something to do with the school's previous lack of security in the hallways. Although still persistently dangerous, Underwood's hallways are much quieter than in the past when gambling and fighting were omnipresent phenomena. In any event, the latch was closed. So my colleague did the only thing he could, he started knocking.

Now if this had been just an ordinary day and just an ordinary example of kids playing around, then after a few minutes, someone would have opened the door and the story would be over and done. But things didn't turn out like that. Instead, the entire class was sitting at their desks, quietly doing their work as their teacher pounded on the door. For one minute.

Five.

Ten.

After this point, as I heard the story, school police were called in to deal with the situation, but as they banged on the door, there was no change. The students just sat there. Coolly. Calmly. Once or twice a student would get up, walk towards the door, throw out a gum wrapper or shrapen a pencil, and then go right back to their seat.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then twenty.

After twenty-five minutes, a student finally opened the door. Needless to say, their teacher was angry, but the head of the honors program (who had also been called in) was livid. This was supposed to be a group of the smartest students in the school, the ones upon whom our test scores depend for NCLB certification. And here they were acting like fools. No...that's too kind. Ordinary foolishness is a different animal, characterized by noise, disorderly conduct, and impulsiveness. This was calculated maliciousness, which is why not one teacher in the honors program disagreed with the decision to suspend the entire class.

When I finished the story, my grandparents were relatively stunned. My grandmother asked why no one opened the door earlier, and my grandfather commented that probably someone had told the class that if anyone went to open that door, he'd kill him. The evening of the incident, my principal had told me something similar to that. She wanted to find out who it was so that she could get him in something more productive. Someone with that kind of charisma belonged in a leadership role on mock trial or student government. Unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that such a convergence of talents would ever take place. The student responsible will likely never come forward of their own accord and has enough of his peers spooked that they will not point him out. After all, "snitches get stitches," or so the saying goes.

Which is rather unfortunate for people who like their schools or societies orderly and safe. But what this incident confirms is that the veneer of order at Underwood High is dangerously thin. The same day as this chemistry incident, there were six separate fights at the school, including one in the cafeteria where a security guard's ankle got broken. (I learned later a student of mine was involved in that one!) As the Invisible Dad noted, the illusion of control is starting to slip, and it would not be at all surprising if my principal were replaced next year, especially if poor test scores provide the new district superintendent with the perfect excuse.