A Warning

As the school year is winding down, fewer and fewer of our students are showing up. This is not something we're necessarily discouraging.

The school had a few bucks left to spend, so we hired a bus and took the 18 students who showed up to see The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. We figured a dumb action movie would be a safe bet with a bunch of teenagers.

In responding to one of Splotchy's posts, which was part of his great Two Buck Schmuck series of posts, where he goes to the Lagrange Theater and reviews movies, I categorized a movie as "Amazingly Bad." This movie fell in that category.

Before I tear it apart, let me point out the only two redeeming qualities of the movie. One was a great cameo by Marvel Comics genius Stan Lee, who created The Fantastic Four, Spiderman and a bunch of other great comic book characters, where he's having trouble getting in to the wedding of two of the characters he created. The other was a scene that was a message against torture.

Here is a sampling of the bad.

First, having great special effects mean nothing if you have a crappy script and a story that plods.

Second, if you have a great actor like Andre Braugher in a movie, don't make him a cardboard cut-out of a character. Give him something to work with. The same with Lawrence Fishburne-- he was the voice of the Silver Surfer, who was mute through most of the movie!

Third, have a leading woman you can care about. Jessica Alba has the acting talent of a wombat. I can think of a half dozen women who could have made the role interesting. Even good-looking ones. Good-looking actresses who can actually act.

Fourth, when you have an actor like Michael Chiklis who was a total natural to play the part of The Thing, give him something to work with-- like a decent script. In the comic book, one of my childhood favorites, he got all the great smartass lines. You may have wanted to keep that aspect of the comic book.

Fifth, have a villian who's villianous. Dr. Doom was as threatening as an overserved yuppie in a fern bar.


Oh, and when you had The Thing have a run-in with a bear in the Black Forest of Germany, you may have wanted to have it be a bear that is native to the Black Forest, like a Black Bear. Grizzleys are huge and scary, but they only live in North America.

Here's how much this movie sucked: since it was a school field trip I not only didn't have to pay for it, or use up a Netflix queue slot-- I was actually paid to see it-- and I still felt like it was a waste of my time.

Now I understand why movie critics get so grumpy.

Unlikely Crushes

A few days ago, my wife Kim was running my stepdaughter to her guitar lesson at the Old Town School of Folk Music, near our home, when she spotted actor/musician Jeff Daniels parking his own tour bus (apparently he's also a musician). She confessed to thinking he was a hunk, diplomatically claiming she found me hunkier (that's all right dear-- I've seen him in Gettysburg-- I could never grow a mustache like that), but I can't blame her-- he's a good-looking, smart guy who's been in many of my favorite movies-- Something Wild, Gettysburg and even, improbably, RV, a Yen family favorite.

One of my favorite bloggers, Kristi, has posted about unusual crushes a couple of times. My favorite of hers is Michael Chiklis

I was thinking about some of my celebrity crushes over the years, and it occurred to me that some of them were a little unconventional. I remember watching Diana Rigg in The Avengers on my family's big old black and white Zenith television when I was 6 or 7 and having feelings I really wouldn't understand until 7 or 8 years later, when I was a teenager. It must have been those leather slacks-- I had similar feelings toward Julie Newmar and Eartha Kitt in their Catwoman get-ups on the Batman show.

On the opposite end, though, my most unusual childhood celebrity crush was Jane Goodall-- yes, that Jane Goodall. The one that worked with the chimpanzees.

I grew up in what we educators call a "literature-rich environment." My parents bought us encyclopedias before we could read. They subscribed to newspapers, Time Magazine (back then Time was not just a big fluff piece), Reader's Digest-- and National Geographic magazines and books. Jane Goodall made frequent appearances in those. She had pretty eyes and blonde hair and just exuded intelligence. I just thought she was a fox. While the other boys were looking for the pictures of the topless African and South American native women, I was gazing at my beloved Jane.

Smart, blonde and older than me... hmmmmm. Maybe that explains my crush on Geraldine Ferraro in the eighties...

Raging Controversies Of Our Times

I played hooky yesterday.

I realized that I had a bunch of unused sick days, so Adam, who is already on summer vacation, came home with me from his Father's Day ball game Sunday, and we hung out.

Monday morning, I made my sick call ("cough, cough") and I fed him his favorite breakfast of Lox, white rice and french-cut green beans.

Afterward, we played a game of of Risk, and headed out to his favorite restaurant, Hot Doug's, just a few blocks away from our home. The picture at the top is of Adam with Doug Sohn, the owner.

Doug and his restaurant were in the news recently: the city of Chicago passed a ban on foie gras, and fined Doug $250 for serving it.

Hot Doug's is no ordinary hot dog joint. Sure, you can get a regular dog for a very reasonable price, which is what Adam prefers. But yesterday, I got the "Dave Kingman," a spicy Sante Fe chicken sausage, with everything (no bun-- I have celiac disease). Doug is a graduate of Kendall College, a highly-regarded local culinary school. He mixes gourmet cooking with his dogs-- for instance, a couple of days a week, he serves french fries cooked in duck fat. There was an alligator sausage on the specials menu yesterday.

Doug's "encased meat emporium" as he dubs it, was originally located near Roscoe and Western, about a half mile from where it is now. A few years ago, there was a fire within the building his business was located in, which closed him up for nearly a year. He was was smart enough to have "loss of business" insurance, and between that and the regular insurance, he could have walked away and worked for someone else. Instead, he opened up shop in a newer, less established location. And it worked. If you go by on the hottest day in the summer or the coldest day in the winter, people are literally lined up out the door to purchase their lunch there.

The city did not appreciate that he reopened his business, providing jobs and tax revenue for Chicago. They fined him $250 for his foie gras infraction-- and made Chicago the laughingstock of the world. Even our Mayor Daley publicly denounced the law and the decision-- he pointed out that there are far bigger problems in Chicago that the city council should be tackling.

As Adam and I talked to Doug yesterday-- Adam making his usual offer to buy Doug's restaurant-- I pointed out to Sohn that the New York Times had covered the story. Doug added that the International Herald Tribune had covered it, and told us, chuckling, that the city inspector who'd been made to go and cite Doug for the violation (Doug has the citation framed) had pointed out that Doug had gotten far more than $250 worth of publicity out of it.

Doug was quick to add, however, that this had not been his intent-- "Being a smartass was my intent. The publicity was an extra."

Biggest. Jerk. Ever.

I was reading the details on the story of a lawsuit that's been making the rounds of the news lately-- Roy Pearson, a Washington D.C. judge is suing a cleaners owned by Soo and Jin Chung for $54 million over an allegedly missing pair of pants.

http://abcnews.go.com/TheLaw/story?id=3269485&page=1&CMP=OTC-RSSFeeds0312

The couple who own the cleaners offered to compensate the plaintiff, who is a judge, 100% for the $1,150 suit. When he persisted in his lawsuit, they offered him $3000, then $4,600, and finally, $12,000.

The story is infuriating-- I love how the plaintiff points out that he reduced the lawsuit amount from $57 million, to only $54 million.

He also tried to corral neighbors into making the suit a class action suit. Fortunately, it appears someone else has involved in the case has good sense-- the judge of the case. The District of Columbia Civil Judge Neal Kravitz angrily refused this, stating:

"The court has significant concerns that the plaintiff is acting in bad faith and with an intent to delay the proceedings," the judge wrote in court papers. "Indeed, it is difficult to draw any other conclusion, given the plaintiff's lengthy delay in seeking to expand the scope of the case, the breathtaking magnitude of the expansion he seeks, his failure to present any evidence in support of the thousands of claims he says he wishes to add, and his misrepresentation concerning the scope of his first amended complaint."

Some of the details of the suit are priceless-- Pearson having to leave the witness stand in tears; his attempt to bring 67 witnesses; and my favorite-- the fact that people reading about this have set up a legal defense fund, to help these poor people with the thousands of dollars they have spent fighting this frivolous lawsuit.

Here's my fondest hope, if there is real justice in this case:

• Judge Kravitz rules against Pearson, denying him even a dime of "compensation."


• Judge Kravitz imposes sanctions on Pearson for filing a frivolous lawsuit.


• That Judge Kravitz also rules that Pearson has to recomenpensate the Chungs for the money they've spent fighting the lawsuit.


• Pearson's superiors realize that he's abused his judicial powers and fire his lame ass.


• The Chungs make so much money with people donating their legal defense fund that they are able to retire. They close their cleaners, the only one in the neighborhood (this was one of the rationale for the suit), and Pearson becomes a widely reviled figure in his neighorhood.

You can donate to the Chung's fund at:

http://www.customcleanersdefensefund.com/

Five Years

I was going to do this post, about a baseball game on a Father's Day five years ago, this morning. I'm glad I waited until after today's game.

Adam's ball game today was against the Cardinals, who are sponsored and coached by the sponsor of his first team five years ago, the Minor League Tigers.

It's funny, from season to season, seeing the other parents-- there's a bond you share, having spent a spring and summer sitting and watching your kids play ball. In subsequent years, they're usually on teams that play your kid's team, but there's a collegiality, between the parents, and frequently between the former teammates, that stays.

Four of us who were there today reminisced about a game on Father's Day five years ago-- a game where our boys surprised and amazed us. Five years later, we still all remember it like it was yesterday.

The boys on the Minor League Tigers were 8 and 9 years old (the leagues are divided by age). For many, including Adam, it was their first year-- and it showed. They were still learning a lot about hitting, fielding, base-running, pitching-- all the details of playing baseball. We did not win a lot of games. In fact, we only won 4 of 20 games that season.

On Father's Day, 2003, the Welles Park Minor League, which normally played most of its games, of course, at Chicago's Welles Park, played its games at Thillens Stadium, a beautiful little ballpark on Chicago's Northwest Side, as a Father's Day treat. We were up that day against the Minor League Yankees, who were tearing up the league that year; they finished the year in second place in the league. We came in fifth of seven. The dads were, frankly, expecting a drubbing for our boys. We didn't sweat it-- we knew our guys would still have a good time anyway, so we settled into the stands to have a good time watching our boys enjoy baseball on a beautiful June Chicago afternoon.

The game started out slowly, each team getting a few runs. Then things exploded-- but not how we expected. All of a sudden our guys started getting on base-- hits, walks and hit batsmen-- inning after inning, they scored run after run.

We fathers were slack-jawed. We weren't used to seeing our boys do this well. We kept turning to one another, kiddingly asking "Who are these guys? What have they done with our boys?"

When it was all over, the Tigers had won 20-4.

Someone had the foresight to pose a picture right after the game in front of the scoreboard while the score was still up-- the picture at the top of this post. (This was another treat-- we don't have scoreboards at Welles Park) You can see the joy in the boys' faces. Their smiles that were almost as big as the ones on our faces. It was the highlight of the season, and the best Father's Day present that we dads could have gotten that day.

It was funny, then, that at the Father's Day game today, there was a reunion of four of the players-- Adam, ironically, on the Yankees this time-- and four of the dads.


















David had just begun to pitch that first season. I'd often sit with his dad, Doug, at the games. David, a southpaw, pitched with a concentration and intensity I rarely saw in that league. It's paid off, apparently-- he was their starting pitcher today, and turned in a fine performance.

I did chuckle and mention to his dad that I noticed that he no longer wears the everpresent sunglasses of five years ago.



















Left-Fielder Chris, who fielded a ball Adam had slugged deep to rob him of a hit, was on that team too. His dad and I also frequently sat together as well when our sons were on the same team. At the Thillens game five years ago, Chris' dad, who is a fairly well-known singer, sang the National Anthem.


















Daniel has become quite a good pitcher, but didn't pitch today while he recovered from a minor injury. He played first and third base quite well.


















And of course, Adam.

Fortunately history didn't repeat; this time, the Yankees, now Adam's team, won, 19-7. And Adam had a great game. He went 2 for 4, with a couple of booming base hits. As I mentioned, he just missed a third hit when his former teammate Chris snagged a fly ball he'd hit. Adam also stole a base, and got an rbi and a run. For his performance, he was awarded a game ball.






















The Yankees are now 7-4 for the season.

Talking to the other dads who were there that day five years ago, we remarked how fast five years has gone. It was funny, remembering our guys as little boys. Now, they are all teenagers. They're taller and slimmer. Their voices are lower and they are adolescents now. The level of play is infinitely better than that season five years ago.

As Adam and I walked home, I mused about a Father's Day; his great game and the time with him were the best present I could have gotten today. And then it hit me.

Five years from this day, he'll have just graduated from high school, and I'll be getting ready to send him off to college.

Transitions

Today we had the graduation ceremony for our seniors.

Last August, when I took this job, I was dealing with a lot. My father had just survived a cancer operation. The doctors had taken a tumor the size of a grapefruit out of his abdomen. I was "Riffed" (teacher slang for "laid off") from my job as a sixth grade teacher, a job I'd loved. A week before I left that job, one of my closest friends was murdered. Between it all, I felt like I'd recieved a body blow.

I spent last summer grieving my lost friend and trying to figure out my next step in life. The job market for teachers was terrbile last year. Most districts in the Chicago area had cut positions because of budget crunches. People I talked to couldn't even get an interview. I wasn't sure I even wanted to teach anymore; "No Child Left Behind" has had the perverse effect of taking the innovation and fun out of teaching.

In August of last year, I got a call from my old friend Karen Calhoun. She and I had become good friends while we were teaching seventh grade at a grade school in Chicago's tough Austin neighborhood. She had since left the school we'd taught at and was at an alternative school not too far from where we'd taught together before.

They needed a science teacher, she told me. I had a science endorsement. I took the interview and got the job on the spot.

Anyone who's read this blog regularly knows that it hasn't been easy. But today, all the tough times in the last year proved to be worth it.

Most of these kids were difficult. Most of them have had a rough time in life. Broken families. Absent parents. Parents with substance problems. Dealing with neighborhoods full of drugs, guns and gangs. Today, each one of them got past all the problems and disappointments so far in their lives and got a high school diploma.

We graduated nearly 100 kids today-- some from our school and some from our sister school. Here are some of my kids.



This is Ludovia. She was in my Physical Science class last semester. She finished my class through her pregnancy-- she missed the last month when she gave birth, but made sure to get the make-up work for all of her classes and did it at home. She came back after giving birth and finished her diploma. She's got a sunny personality-- she gets along with everybody. I'm certain that she'll do well in life.



Preston ended up with us after getting kicked out of Amundsen High School, not too far from my home, after getting in a fight he hadn't started-- part of the "zero tolerance" policy of the high school. We all found this amazing, because he got along with everybody-- students and teachers-- in an environment filled with conflict. He's intelligent, hard-working and a really nice guy. He was class Salutatorian.

He'll be attending Eastern Illinois University, where I got my bachelor's and master's degrees, this fall, studying Music.



LaShai was a kid who came to us late in the year. She started coming up in discussions at our meetings; she was a "plugger"-- a kid who quietly worked hard, without fanfare, and got things done. We talked about how we spent so much time talking about the problem kids, and how we were going to deal with them, and kids like her slip through the cracks, not getting attention.

Today, she got attention. She was class Valedictorian, and was given a "Teacher Recognition Award" we'd created for her.



This guy's name is "Mister." For real. He's one of the nicest kids I've ever had the pleasure to teach.

Truth be told, he didn't work all that hard in school. We didn't bust his chops over it-- he worked nights at Sam's Club. As someone who actually had a job, he was a novelty-- the rate of inner city teenage employment is the worst it's been in a couple of decades. According to today's New York Times, the employment rate for black teens from low-income families is 18%-- a little less than one in five. Mister happily defies those odds.

I expect him to be running a Fortune 500 company before he's 40.



I've mentioned Kyle in another blog post. He was one of my "projects." I didn't have him in any of my classes, but he seemed to look up to me. I took a little time with him every day. We must have done something right-- he kept coming to school. He wasn't the perfect student, but he finished. I was really happy to see him get his diploma today.

There was one other student I've mentioned before, another of everyone's favorites, Lena. With her purple hair and her red Converse Chuck Taylors, she stood out at our school. She was so quiet that we could only guess at who she was-- but we got a pretty good notion of it. When she showed up with her boyfriend, a metalhead who was wearing a Slipknot t-shirt, we realized we were right-- she is a kid who marches to her own tune, and won't let anyone else define her.

This year has been difficult, but healing. Sitting there, watching those kids get their diplomas, I realized how important this was to them. This was a badly-needed success for them, a step forward in life. I was happy to have been part of it.

On Friday, I gave my notice that I wasn't coming back next year. I had a feeling that they didn't want me back-- I hadn't made much of a secret that I wasn't very happy with the administration. And truth be told, I'm burnt out. I made a promise to leave teaching before I became the teacher I hated. It's time to leave. I was happy today, and satisfied that I was where I needed to be this year.

It was obvious, the appreciation that the students and their parents had for us, the faculty. It was a good feeling. But as I've mentioned before, as much as they thought they needed me, I needed them just as badly.

Advantages

There are a lot of advantages to the end of a school year besides the obvious-- that it's almost the end of the school year. The main advantage is that there are hardly any students. And that means that there'll hardly be anyone we have to share the barbecue we're cooking out back with.

It also means that I can play the Oldies station cranked up, because whatever students who did bother to show up are hanging out downstairs by the barbecue. And this meant that there was no one around to laugh at me when I started singing out loud with the Edison Lighthouse's "Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes"....



Hey, are you laughing at me?!

Have You Ever Seen Anything Wronger?

I was recently commenting on the fact that Crocs on males is a fashion trend that I am not down with. And of course, W. had to come along and prove my point.

Thanks to Kristi and Vikki for this one!

And thanks to Skyler's Dad for the link to the Dishonest Dubya Lying Action Figure, Complete With Pretzel-Wretching Action!.

Just keep repeating the mantra, guys:


one twenty oh nine
one twenty oh nine
one twenty oh nine
1/20/09....