Missing the Mark

There is no doubt that the public education system in the U.S. has had its ups and downs, and at present, it seems that it's more down than up.  However, with the enactment of No Child Left Behind in 2002, the  seriousness of our failing education system became painfully clear.  The fact that our schools are failing is a matter on which most all educators can agree.  In a Time Magazine article, Alex Tehrani agrees, stating that "NCLB proponents and critics alike agree that the law's greatest accomplishment has been shining an unforgiving spotlight on...schools and demanding that  they do better" (Tehrani).  The problem with this unified stance in terms of what NCLB has done for public education is that the "agreeing" stops exactly where it started: there is a problem.

Rooted in the "reward/punishment" philosophy of human behavior, NCLB strives for tangible results through a set of rewards and punishments for teachers and schools.  These "results" are a function of annual standardized testing that focus primarily on math and reading, and it's this testing that has been the catalyst for the arguments of many teachers, parents, and administrators.  The crux of the argument doesn't rest upon whether or not schools should make changes or whether or not they can produce results.  In fact, results are the one thing that teachers, parents, and administrations can agree upon.  The question at  the moment that poses that greatest challenge is "how" to attain and measure these desired results.   

What About the ROOTS?

Any educated landscaper that's worth his salt will tell you that the quickest way to green up your grass is to add some nitrogen, Ammonium Nitrate to be exact.  That same "educated landscaper", if he is worth his salt, will also tell you that adding Ammonium Nitrate to your lawn is also the worst thing that you can do for your grass.  Yes, it is true that adding Ammonium Nitrate to your lawn does a quick job of greening up your grass, with the blade of the grass receiving the most benefits (primarily aesthetic); however, just like most quick fixes, Ammonium Nitrate is fast acting, short lived, and doesn't support the growth of the root system.  This unbalanced approach to fertilization ultimately leaves the grass susceptible to disease and weakens its ability to endure hash weather conditions.

Similar to the effects that Ammonium Nitrate has on grass, the present education policy in the U.S. has narrowed its focus and stressed quick and visible results instead of dealing with the root of the problem.  David Bornstein, in his New York Times blog, agrees stating that "in response to the No Child Left Behind act, nearly half of all school districts in the country have shifted large chunks of time to math and reading instruction in order to improve student test scores."

PLEASE!...I Promise This is Important

One of the greatest challenges in any classroom is answering the question as to how to motivate students to learn.  There is of course, the age-old approach of the grand monologue, in which the distinguished teacher proclaims the importance of education and the power of knowledge before his or her students; however, as many teachers will attest to, no matter how honed a teacher’s persuasive powers are, this attempt to persuade students is like applying a surface anesthetic, very seldom does it penetrate to the depths needed.  At best this approach gives an understanding of the importance of learning, but it falls well short of actually motivating students to actually put into practice what they know is important.  

Hey Dummy, the Target is Over Here!

One of the greatest problems with both former President Bush’s No Child Left Behind and President Obama’s Race to the Top is the manner in which they both attempt to determine and measure the success of schools, teachers, and students.  In an attempt to gain a clear understanding of what is taking place in our nation’s public schools and to quantify the productivity of the overall system, these policies focus solely on one factor alone as opposed to the multifaceted and dynamic system that is public education.  Granted, test scores are important, and teachers should be held accountable for their performance in the classroom, and it is vital to have a device in place by which to measure these factors; however, test scores are not the only indicator of success in terms of schools, teachers, and students and therefore should not be the only measure used in determining teacher productivity in the classroom, student success in terms of learning, and ultimately individual school success.

For many years educators assumed that all students learn the same, but new research by Harvard’s Howard Gardner suggest that not only do students learn differently, but they demonstrate their learning in different ways as well.  Gardner’s research challenges many long held beliefs by educators, on the one hand, the use of one dimensional classroom testing being the best means by which to measure student learning, and on the other, the one size fits all teaching method.  When we match what Gardner’s research has found in terms of individual learning and the demonstration of that learning by students to the current means of both teaching and testing, there is an obvious contrast.  Ultimately what we see is that the current system of both teaching and testing is at best aiming at the wrong target, and if that is the case, both President Bush’s No Child Left Behind and President Obama’s Race to the Top are missing the mark in their attempt to right the education ship.  Not only does this off target attempt put our teachers, schools, and students at a disadvantage as it relates to funding for school districts, more importantly, it doesn’t address the greater problem: there is a good chance that we have overlooked some of the brightest students.    

Obama's War on Schools

In his article "Obama's War on Schools," Chip Somodevilla argues that as a whole "those who know schools best are frightened for the future of public education...[and] they see no one in a position of leadership who understands the damage being done to their schools by federal policies.  Somodevilla believes that those "who know schools best" feel betrayed by President Obama's unwillingness to separate himself from former President Bush's No Child Left Behind, a policy that Somodevilla argues is the primary reason for our present education woes.  He argues in fact that President Obama's Race to the Top education initiative is merely cosmetic in it's approach to dealing with the present education crisis in America. Furthermore, Somodevilla goes as far as stating that in all actuality, President Obama's Race to the Top education initiative has actually added to the problem by increasing the blockades created by No Child Left Behind.  These blockades, Somodevilla argues, are exactly the reason that the United States has fallen as a global leader in terms of education.

Somodevilla believes that the punitive nature of No Child Left Behind as well as its primary focus on testing as a means of measurement of teacher effectiveness is responsible for this, and that it has placed teachers in a corner, limiting their ability to be creative in the classroom.  Not only has this test based system of quantification limited the teachers ability to teach, Somodevilla also argues that the most harm is done to the students as teachers focus only on the test as opposed to working to expand students' overall understanding of the world around them.  Somodevilla believes that this approach lays the entire blame for student achievement solely on the teacher, leaving the student and the parent out of the equation.  This, Somodevilla argues, is grossly unfair and not to mention it places the teachers and the schools in a place where failure in inevitable.

I agree with Somodevilla's argument, there is more at play with what's wrong with education than simply increasing test scores, or at least attempting to do so.  Using test scores alone to determine the effectiveness of a teacher or school seems to be narrow sighted at best.  The dynamics at play in the life of the student are at the very least as important when deciding who passes and who fails in the world of public education.  

How Dumb Are We?

Phil Toledano, in his article "How Dumb Are We?" argues that civic ignorance, as it pertains to the average American, is out of control.  Citing statistics from several polls, Toledano argues that there is a great chasm between American citizens and our European counterparts when it comes to our understanding our government and how it works.  Toledano is quick to point out that not having an understanding of the civic sphere here in the U.S. is nothing new, and he cites a yearly shift between those who "know" and those who "don't" as evidence.  Toledano states that this culture of ignorance has remained roughly the same since WWII and has only changed slightly (1% since WWII).  

After his opening remarks, Toledano takes a turn as he begins to lay out his opinion as to the why this ignorance is so rampant.  He follows this up by giving us his solution to the problem.  He begins with the complexities of the U.S. government first, and then he strolls through income inequality, he takes a jab at the public market and education, and finally he ends up on the budget.  Through out the article, Toledano makes several legitimate points, and in fact, I was drinking the Kool-Aid for the first few paragraphs.  However, by the end of the article, I felt the Toledano's argument had fallen apart.  

In one section he gives the complex U.S. government as one of the reasons for the average citizen's ignorance, but by the end he as also complained about those who call for a simplified government.  At another point, Toledano agrees with those calling for government run schools (inferred of course), this is ironic considering that at this point, if the federal government were a business, it would rest atop the heap when it comes to management. 

I find myself on the fence on some of these issues for sure, but that's only because of the complexity that Toledano speaks of.  This coupled with a limited amount of information of what is truly going on behind closed doors makes coming up with absolutes nearly impossible.  I think what I have the most trouble with in terms of Toledano's article is the fact that the very same ignorance that he is charging the American public with, he is basing his conclusion on.  Granted, knowing how the country we live in works is beneficial, but the reality is that it is virtually impossible to understand something that is not absolute absolutely. 

Humanoid to the Rescue (Paragraph 5)

Yesterday I saw a commercial for diet dog food.  I’m so glad.  The obesity rate for dogs is going through the roof.  Those poor animals aren’t sure how to eat right.  There’s just not enough healthy choices out there for a K9 these days.  I’m trying to understand how any animal made it without the care and concern of the human. 

Ph.D in Stupidity (Paragraph 4)

The final step of the directions on a well-known brand of tampons reads "Finally, pull up underwear."  How thoughtful.  Women all over the world should be thankful for the insight and consideration of the feminine hygiene industry.  If it weren’t for the thoughtfulness of the great minds in the tampon business the entire female population would be stuck at home, standing in the bathroom, dumbfounded as to how to complete the final step in the feminine product usage process.  I’m just saying, if I were a woman, the fact that someone thought it would be necessary to inform me that the “final step” of using a tampon was pulling up my underwear would seriously tick me off.  You might as well tell me that the first step to staying alive is breathing.        

I'm Your Responsibility (Paragraph 3)

After his arrest, famed killer David Berkowitz, better known as Son of Sam, claimed that his neighbor's demon possessed dog was responsible for commanding him to kill.  I’ve heard of “the dog ate my homework,” but blaming Spot for a killing spree seems like a stretch.  It seems that everybody is a victim these days.

Spank the Monkey (Paragraph 2)

You might remember the woman with the pet chimpanzee that ripped the face of her friend completely off?  Listen closely; I said, “ripped completely off.”  That’s vicious, and in the greatest sense of the word.  I mean seriously, I’ve heard of penis envy, but this looks like some serious homo-sapien envy to me.  Why go for the face?  The New York Times called it a modern-day tragedy.  Tragedy? Are you serious?  The chimp’s owner just couldn’t understand why Travis (the chimp) would do such a thing.  Hey lady; here’s a little observation: it’s a freaking wild animal!  It lives in a world where having a name, wearing cute little chimp diapers, bibs and “giving momma sugars” don’t register.  

Purple Hair and Back-up Lights (Paragraph 1)

There are two things that one must watch for when crossing any parking lot: purple hair and back-up lights.  Oh, and I almost forget, the biggest four-door American made car known to man.  Yes, I know, most of you haven’t a clue as to what I am talking about, and more than likely hearing the phrase “purple hair” has taken you away to a place dominated by nose rings, tattoos and mohawks instead of the guidelines for proper pedestrian safety, but the combination of the aforementioned can be deadly. 

The Anatomy of a Loser

 

One's school life many times is like a bag of Chex mix, overall it's pretty good, but there is always that weird flavored pretzel that the food god's seem to deal you no matter how hard you try to avoid it.  I guess if one were to back up and look at the big picture, the troubles of one's school life are just one part of a much larger maze that we all so comfortably call growing up.  It feels a little strange reducing one's childhood, and life for that matter, to that of a rat working his or her way through a seemingly pointless lab experiment, but essentially that's what it all boils down to; we are presented with a series of decisions; if we push button number one, we get a sweet treat, and if we choose button two, we get a shock.  The problem with this little experiment is that everything in the maze seems to lure us to button two, but the shock is delayed, and it's only with age and some maturing that we realize how wrong our choices really were.

I think it was along about the 7th grade when I realized that everyone in my class couldn't stay friends with each other forever.  The lines of demarcation were visibly growing, slow at first, but then they quickly picked up speed and strength until by the end of the year my school looked more like an episode of Survivor than a healthy learning environment.  Anyone who has been through school can relate to what I am talking about.  It doesn’t matter if you attended school in the 50’s or in the 2000’s, the voting criteria in this sadistic game hasn't changed, doesn't change, and will never change, so you will be all too familiar with the common weak links.  Stinky kid was always the first to go, velcro-pleather shoe guy was a close second, followed by poor kid, religious kid, and finally weird kid who wore all black finished out the top six.  As harsh as these labels might sound, that's the way it is on the social island.  

 

Unlike Survivor, you couldn't earn immunity by winning interestingly designed challenges where you exposed your chiseled chest and ripped abs; it was simply who you were in the eyes of your peers that decided your fate.  You were exposed alright, but it was your weakness that got judged, not your strengths, and the hardest part for the social outcast was that if you were voted off you didn't get to gracefully bow out of the game and return to your normal life.  You had to stay on the island and wonder the badlands of the social world for the entire year, and more than likely, the rest of your school life.  Instead of eating with friends, you were relegated to the lunch table in the corner, you paced aimlessly along the outer reaches of the playground back by the fence mumbling to yourself like Rain Man, and you could forget birthday parties and there was no way your Valentine's shoebox would have anything thing it at the end of the day.  You were left to stand in the filth of who you were.  You were not a human with needs, wants and desires of your own, but an everlasting reminder to all those still on the island of who not to be and what not to do.

I would love to tell you that I was one of those outcasts, a pariah of sorts, wondering through my school years estranged from regular society, but I can’t.  I was one of the weak minded posers who cast my vote by placing my foot on the throats of those that were different, those who where dealt a hand full of jokers, and it pains me to think that what I thought was strength was nothing more than a manifestation of my own insecurity and weakness.  I was the one who was the real loser, the fake, the weak.  

It's amazing how strong the need to fit in and be accepted presses upon the psyche of a young person.  It's like a raging river, a torrent that slams against you; it rolls you over and over against rocks and snags; it leaves you spinning out of control grasping at anything that will keep you afloat.  Everything you are is focused on just trying to survive, and in the heat of the moment panic overwhelms your ability to see what is truly important, and as is the norm with panic, bad decisions make up the lion’s share.  It's only after you've been spit out on the sandy beaches of maturity that you realize that what you went through was a Survivor-like challenge, and yes, there was a prize; it is the revelation that you won when it came to being a selfish egotistical jerk and failed miserably when it came to being true, honest, and seeing the world from another’s perspective.  The reality is that even though today I know what lurks just beyond those shores, I am continually lured back into the current.

Random Rant

I have just finished an act that has left me ridden with guilt.  Condemnation streamed from the heavens, not the heaven of angels and such, but the heaven of book lovers of old.  I have just damaged a precious page of this precious little book.  Yes, I just dog-eared a page in my book, and as I did, I caught myself imagining the excuses that I would give to those in class that might see my actions as an uneducated display of disrespect for the very foundation of "what we do." That got me to thinking; why should I feel guilty or even care for that matter?

It's strange to me that I should I feel that I have done something wrong.  I am struck by the illogical nature of the very idea that applying a helpful crease to MY book is such a crime.  Why should I feel guilty.  It's not like I'm cutting words out or ripping pages from the spine or running the thing through a wood chipper.  No, just a simple crease.  It's my freaking book!  If I want to write, crease, or create a an entire origami zoo out of every single page, I will.

Cultural Mysophobia

In my last post, I meticulously described in great detail how the sound of the human chew grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.  I thought that I would explore this a little further.
My earliest memory of agitation with mastication brings me to my grandfather.  My grandparents were notorious for preparing a big breakfast every morning.  It was just a normal part of the day for them.  I'm not talking about cereal; it was eggs, bacon, biscuits, gravy, the works, and this was day in and day out.  I can remember as a youngster sitting there watching with awe as my grandfather prepared his food.  Naturally I was curious to see how he ate, how he prepared his food, how he approached his morning meal.  The truth was that whether I wanted to or not, I had to see it.  We ate at a bar that spread from the kitchen over into the living area.  It was a perfect place to sit, spread out the food, and eat.  The only problem was that when you were eating together, you were really eating together.  If you could have seen me and my grandparent's spacial bubbles while we sat at that bar, it would have looked like the Olympic rings.  We were in each other's space in the worst way.  You could see each pass of the fork to the mouth, each mucus coated guy wire stretching from the roof of the mouth to the tongue, each pouch of food being drawn to the stomach while the adam's apple pulsed and pumped like some type of industrial press forcing the food along an assembly line.  It was too much, too much.
I couldn't have been very old when I came to the conclusion that hearing bodily actions up close and personal was something that I just couldn't handle.  I'm guessing I was probably about 4 or 5 years old at the most.  Thinking about the "why" of this has led me to an even worse conclusion about myself.  I don't like being close to other humans, even family members.  Wow!  Did you just hear that?  That was the psycho alert that just went off.  Who doesn't like being next to their family member?  Now you know at least one person that fits that bill. But it's not just family members; if you  are in any way different than me, no let me rephrase that, if you're NOT me, I would rather you keep your distance.
As I look closer, it seems like my dislike of chewing  is more a function of just being close to people in general.  It seems that if I'm close enough to see what's really taking place in the lives of others as opposed to my ideal picture then I am uncomfortable.  I have to admit, this goes for emotional closeness as well, talk about messy.  Being close means you see and hear things that you ordinarily would not, so staying at a distance allows me to keep my assumptions about the world around me in place.  Because of this, I don't have to do much; I don't have to change or adjust to the reality of the human experience.  I mean if we really look at this, I am attempting live this life as if I were the only human who has the right to be fully human, the only one who can eat, breath, and live uninhibited.  With my rationale and my desire to make everyone else into exactly what I want them to be, I am separating myself from the possibility of a deeper human experience.
I used to think that I was a freak, boarder line Howie Mandel, but I think there is a principle here, or at the very least a type of behavior that many of us engage in on a regular basis.  I'm not trying to get all preachy here, but think about it for a second.  How many times have we locked ourselves in the bubble of our own world and our own reality and missed THE reality that there are actually others that think, act, and feel differently than we do?  Instead of distancing ourselves from the "different" in the world around us, it seems to me that if we would just take the time to move a little closer to those who we think are so different we just might see how similar we are.  That's the problem isn't it; taking the time to take a close look at others makes us take a closer look at ourselves, and that can be scary.        

Can You Please Die for Me?

Hate is such a strong word, and to be totally honest, you would be hard pressed to ever hear me just give in and say that I hate someone, but with that being said, I have no problem admitting that there is a group of human behavior's that I do hate, and hate with a passion.  The only problem here is that I'm not talking about your basic "bad" human behaviors like "I hate bullying," or "I hate cheating."  Those are terrible behaviors, and they definitely fall into my dislike category, but what I hate isn't necessarily good or bad; it's more trivial than anything.  These despised actions of the human condition don't hold any sway on world peace or any peace for that matter.  They in fact only affect one person; it's me that they disturb, me and only me. So yes, as I meander through this explanation, like cream rising to the top, my selfish self is going to spring out like a jack-in-the-box.  Right in your face.  More than likely after this little confession session, you're opinions of me as a person will be forever skewed.  So here goes...   

I hate the sound of someone chewing food. Yes, that's right, chewing food, not gum or candy but food.  Yes, I hate something that every human does on a daily basis, and something that every human has to do to live I might add. The grinding of molars upon bits of feed, the crunching of starchy morsels, the wishy-washy sound of saliva moistening the food as it's passed back and forth in the mouth by the strange and muscular tongue; it drives me crazy.  The gulping sound of a long anticipated swallow, the low "um, um" that accompanies each gnash of the teeth in a rhythmic cadence as the jaw completes its cycle of the chomping chew, that is what I hate.  I can deal with my own mammal chewing tendencies, my own cud chomping doesn't present a problem at all, but you put someone beside me in any eating environment chomping through a meal, and you better have some ambient sound, or it's going to get ugly.  I'm not talking about ugly in the sense that I might lash out and judo chop you across your pie hole, but if I have to hear unabated chewing for too long, I'm likely to vomit up a comment like Lardass' blueberry explosion in Stand by Me.  It wouldn't be a mean comment either, and in fact, the chewer wouldn't have a clue what I was even talking about, but by saying some inside-jokeish snide remark, like a pressure valve, I am able to release the build-up of inner tension and thus safe face.

This exact scenario took place just last week. This is no lie; I had a guy in one of my classes come in with an entire fried chicken dinner.  We're talking roll, cole slaw, beans, mashed potatoes, the whole works.  It was all neatly packaged in that squeaking styrofoam to-go box.  I knew this was going to get bad quick.  So class starts, and as the seats in the class were slowly filling up, in comes lunch-boy.  Disheveled in appearance and only minutes from rolling out of bed (it's noon by the way).  I watch him as he slowly scans the room.  First he looks to the left, no seats, and then he looks to the right, no (I grumbled in that slow-motion growl).  His eyes connect with the seat right next to me.  Peering over his chicken dinner he makes his way to the boundaries of my bubble.  Here we go, giddy-up.  He sits right next to me and commences his pre-meal prep.  You would have thought this guy was sitting down to dinner at some five-star restaurant.  He spreads out his napkin placing his plastic scarf tools parallel to one another like a surgeon preparing to extract some internal organ.  Then he takes the first bite.  His heavy breathing and the whistling of nasal air being pulled quickly though his snout makes me wonder when was the last time this guy ate.  Due to the sheer mass of chicken meat that he had stuffed into his gullet, I know the whistling of air over nose hair and clogged sinuses would be lasting through the entire meal.  Eating and chewing and swallowing and the squeaking of that dang styrofoam box went on and on.  Between his heavy breathing, the crunching of deep fried chicken skin, and that styrofoam box, I just about had a fit.  I'm over here twitching like a junky in rehab, and I'm trying not to be noticed, but I know people are starting to stare at me.  By now I've given him several unapproving glances at no avail.  Luckily, he finished his scarf session before I blew a gasket, but I was seriously about to boil over.  I thought to myself, "You just about made a complete fool of yourself," and as I was both comforting and giving myself the proverbial pat not he back for my great self control, I glanced back and my chicken eating classmate launched the death blow.  There was a piece of cabbage from his cole slaw, and it was hanging from his scraggly beard like a Christmas ornament.   Watching that remnant of vegetation sway back and forth as his tongue made laps around his mouth cleaning the remains of his feast, I sat in amazement. It was taunting me.  Seriously, how do you not know you have a giant piece of cabbage hanging from your beard?   Can you not feel it pulling down on the skin of your face?!  Please wipe it off!  He never did.  

Look, I truly do feel guilty for hating these basic human behaviors, and I feel even more guilty after telling this story.  Just think of what I am asking, "Please stop nourishing your body so you can live; stop eating so I can be comfortable."  It's ridiculous I know, and I couldn't even tell you why I hate it so much, but I do.  Look, I'm in no way making a defense for what I have just told you.  It's wrong any way you look at it, and the strangest part about this whole peeve of mine is that I am the worst chewer of all.  Being so versed in chewing, I know that I fit right into the category of behavior that I hate so much; I am a loud, saliva ridden chewer of the highest order.  It doesn't matter what I'm eating, it always sounds like I've got a mouth full of Captain Crunch.  I'm like a horse eating oats.  Maybe my hatred for chewing is a function of my own chewing; maybe I hate the way I chew, and I project that hatred onto others.  Who knows?  

I've Got Your Expansion and Contraction Right Here

I am almost positive that I have read or heard from at least one source that if one knows his or her own weakness, and if one is able to come to grips with said weakness, there is some type of strength gathered from it.  I'm not sure how true this is, but if it is true in any sense, I should be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.  Seriously, where else would one go to find something to write about besides the thing that occupies so much of our time.  The more I think about it, how much I suck at something seems to hover around me like I'm Pig Pen from Charlie Brown.  There is this inescapable cloud of crap that seems to envelop me.  

Don't get me wrong, I know that most other people don't necessarily see it as crap, especially in today's PC climate.  More than likely for the PC crowd, I'm just "challenged,"but to me, mostly because I know the truth as I will describe shortly, it's just straight crap.  Here's the part where you probably think I'm going to tell you I'm learning disabled, or maybe I'm dyslexic, or  maybe I've been raised by foster parents because my real mom and dad abandon me when I was just a child.  Your not even close, and this is where the real embarrassment begins. Here's my big problem; I want to be good at stuff.  Actually in the honor of full disclosure I need to make it a bit more clear; I want to great at everything I do.  I know, it really doesn't sound that bad, but this is where Pig Pen's sweet little swirling cloud quickly turns into a raging tornado.  I wish I had some grand reason for wanting to be good at everything I do, but the truth is I don't.  I simply want to be the best at what I do no matter what it is. I know that sounds innocent enough, but wanting to be good and wanting to be the best are miles apart, especially when you know the real reason behind your motivation.  See, being the best as opposed to simply being good means that my focus is not on mastering some new concept or skill to better myself and those around me, no; my sole focus is to be standing on the podium while being sprayed with champaign, swigging from some giant jug of milk, surrounded by models, and  all the while holding the biggest bouquet of flowers none to man.  There it is, and there is no way around it; I am prideful, and yes, prideful people are constantly worried about what they cannot do, and that takes me right back to square one, the swirling cloud of crap.  The only difference between me and Pig Pen is that I have mastered hiding the cloud.  

Pushing the Limits

You fit so nicely around your wonderful fleshy holder.  Perfectly placed and literally within arm's reach.  You're visible and easy to read with just a simple glance.  I find it both strange and ironic to admit that with all of your wonderful features, visibility, and uses for ordering my daily affairs that I simply don't take the time to interact with you on a more regular basis.  I simply don't consider you important enough to pay attention to.  Don't get me wrong however, I want to have a viable and thriving relationship with you.  One where I don't have to enter a room with excuse in hand, one where I don't have to write papers while watching the amazing feats of Ron Popeil's Magic Pasta Maker.  

I want to put you first, let you direct my day, but for some reason, I think I am better of just doing this life on my own.  It's like an addiction.  I know better, but I can't seem to break the habit.  I know those sweet little hands innocently wrapping around every minute of every single day are just waiting to draw me closer to efficiency and punctuality, but again and again I turn away only to have you staring back into my eyes the very next morning.  

Here is the question though, is it really a bad thing.  I mean do we really have to be together every moment of everyday.  I keep asking myself what is more important?  Is it how I get there and who I bring with me, or is it that fact that I get there?  Seriously, if I'm good enough my mom will never know that I bought her Mother's Day card at Kung Woo's Kwik-E-Mart on the way to her house, right?  If she thinks that I thought ahead isn't that all that matters?  Time, you make this life so frustrating.

Finding My Groove

At 7,500 ft., the trailhead that leads into the Chicago Basin rest at the bottom of a 5,000 vertical foot rise that is stretched over a punishing 7 miles.  This 7 mile gut-wrenching hike ends in belly of one of Colorado's most scenic areas, the Chicago Basic.  The Chicago Basis rests in the middle of the Needle Mountains, and the beauty of these mountains lead one to believe that the hike ahead will be just as breath-taking as the view from the trailhead; it is; however, not all for the same reasons.

Oklahoma air and Colorado air don't have much in common, and every summer when I arrive in Colorado to make this same hike, I am quickly reminded of this as my lungs scratch and bite for ever breath.  My trip starts in Durango, Colorado where I board the Durango-Silverton train and take it high into the mountains.  A three-hour trip that tip-toes along sheer cliffs, rushing rivers filled with the summer's snow melt, and rows and rows of pines that stretch to the horizon leads me to the heart of the Needle Mountains.

Once off the train, the air is crisp, and the adrenaline is flowing, but it's not long before reality sets in; this is going to take some hard work.  For the next six hours, a forty-five pound pack digs into your shoulders while your quads feel like you've bathed them in molten lava. The air gets thinner and thinner, and the closer you get to the end the harder it gets. Really, the the whole thing is like some type of sick human tractor-pull, but as painful as it is, the pay-off is well worth it. The view from 14,000ft. is beyond description.

These trips to Colorado have meant a lot to me, and I have found that most of what takes place in life in general is not much different in terms of principle than my experience climbing in the Colorado mountains, one foot in front of the other until you reach the top.  For me, the progression of events that take place when heading up the mountain translate well to just about any endeavor.  The thing that I have found so helpful from my time in Colorado is this: the next step is that most important one.  In the mountains one step is worth quite a lot, and looking too far ahead or too far behind can have a severe penalty. 

I think I can...I think I can

I guess it's natural to have a little apprehension when shoving off the shores of the known world, and I'm no exception.  When faced with something new, there is no doubt that the thought of falling off the edge of the earth works to set up camp in my thinking, but for me, it's not long before the excitement of learning and experiencing something new quickly overshadows any anxiety that accompanies any new venture.  It's not often that I say "no" when it comes to attempting something new; I have a simple schema that I follow: if another human is able to do it, then the only thing that separates me from doing it is time and effort (excluding the obvious gender limitations).  However, I must admit that there are limits to my desire to experience something new, and when the "uncharted waters" that I'm venturing into could sink the entire ship, the risk-reward curve quickly takes the helm.