Tag: High school

  • Reality of Homework

    So, the kid has started middle school, and new things have been thrown at her from her school, and on the whole, she has handled all of these changes admirably.

    With the exception of homework.

    Now, I am NOT here to say that her school has given her too much work, or any of that stuff. No, I believe that her school is rolling out homework at a respectable pace.

    It’s just that the kid doesn’t like doing homework, because she’d rather be talking to her friends, or playing online games. You know…

    And this isn’t like the first time that the kid has had homework. Even in her elementary school, she was required to read for thirty minutes a night, and do a page of math problems. If things were very hectic, she might also have a little science homework as well. Tops, all of this work would take her an hour. Most nights, she was done in forty minutes, and with only a minor amount of grumbling. Middle school homework takes about an hour.

    As we have been dealing with this new found disgust of homework, it reminded me of when she first got “homework” back in second grade. It was like five math problems that she could do at home, and she was excited to take care of it first thing after school. I get, because I remember doing the same thing at her age.

    For me, not that I 100% remember what my “homework” was, let’s say math, but it was the fact that I felt like I was older, doing ready studying, really learning. Home work was that thing my older brothers had to do, and it must be a good thing because they were smarter than me, so homework made you smarter. And I wanted to be smarter. What I do remember concretely was the feeling of accomplishment for completing whatever that homework was, and also how my brothers told me I shouldn’t be excited to get homework because it was like a punishment.

    Clearly things changed, and I also remember the awful years in junior high, with so much homework, and feeling like it was looming over my life. I don’t remember that feeling in high school, though I know there was an enormous amount of homework. College was college, and studying and homework was just part of the deal – no point in complaining about it, but, again, it never felt soul crushing like junior high.

    Either way, life has come full circle, and the kid hates the amount of homework she has; no matter the size of work. I guess this is a lesson she has to learn – get your work done so you can do the stuff you want to do.

    Something like that.

  • Local Middle-Aged Man Buys Shoes from His Youth

    Local Middle-Aged Man Buys Shoes from His Youth

    This is a long story, but follow me here…

    So, back in 1992, I was a sophomore in high school, and the way my town ran their schools, 10th grade sophomore year was your first year in high school. As such, we sophomores were the new kids in class, and as such, we were all figuring out how high school worked.

    I had come into high school with this idea that theatre was going to be one of my things, as my high school not only had a proscenium theatre, but also a theatre classroom and a blackbox theatre as well. Now, let’s not get crazy here, this was still Texas, so the entire focus of the school was on football, and that got all the money and attention. Yet, for some reason, there was this little pocket of theatre in the high school, and I wanted to be a part of it.

    And as I navigated this new world of high school theatre, with all of the pretension and promise, one of the upper classmen, a senior whose name I no longer remember, told me as he looked at my Reebok high-tops, that theatre people wear black high-top Chuck Taylor All-Stars. I was gullible and desperate for approval, so clearly I had to go out and get a pair of All-Stars. To my mother’s dismay, as she had just bought me a new pair of Reebok high-tops for school, I had her take me to Dillard’s so I could spend my own money ($20) to buy a pair of black high-top Chick Taylor All-Stars.

    From 1992 to this day, I have always owned at least one pair of All-Stars.

    Now, the only change that has occurred with my owning a pair of All-Stars came in 2000, when I went to buy some, but the store was sold out of high-tops, so I bought a pair of the low-tops.

    And Thus! From 2001 to 2025, I have owned only black low top Chuck Taylor All-Stars.

    Except when I went shoe shopping with the kid the other day. As she was looking at a pair of pink All-Star high-tops, I was drawn to the black high-tops. More for a lark than anything, I tried on a pair just to see. The kid encouraged me to get them, as she hasn’t seen me in anything but low-tops her whole life. I had to make sure she wasn’t messing with me, like telling me to do something to make me look silly. But, my kid isn’t vindictive like that, so she must have meant it, that the shoes looked good on me.

    Funny how that guys comment from high school has stuck with me; He was probably messing with me when he said it.

  • That Guy “Dan” from High School

    I went to high school with this guy, let’s call him Dan. We weren’t really friends, such as we didn’t hang out after school, but we hung in parallel social groups, and if we had a class together, we sit near each other so we could crack jokes and pass the time. He was very tall and lanky, but with no athletic coordination or maybe he didn’t like sports, so he preferred to be an outsider, but with his height, you couldn’t miss him. He was soft spoken, real dry sense of humor, and he was the type of guy you’d see reading Naked Lunch or The Bell Jar. He was smart, but a slacker, and he carried himself like a 90’s neo-hippie, you know, he looked like he was in The Spin Doctors.

    Dan had a thought or an opinion on just about everything. I had read about it somewhere, is what he would say when he had some knowledge that covered a rather arcane subject. But music, that was his big thing. I was, and still am for that matter, a huge Beatles fan which Dan was as well. He told me, that one day my music taste would evolve – not that I would stop liking The Beatles – but I would follow down the path of enlightened music enjoyment. He said that I would start with The Beatles, then in a few years I would be all about Led Zeppelin, and that I would end with Pink Floyd. I didn’t think too much of it, but his idea did stay in the back of my mind.

    I graduated and went away to college, for a reason I have forgotten, I bought “Physical Graffiti,” and I got hooked on Led Zeppelin. Somewhere, hiding in the back of my mind where I placed it, I envisioned Dan sitting Lotus style, hand raised to heaven, surrounded by a cloud of pot smoke, smiling and nodding at me – “You have attained the next level” he imparted on me. The truth is that I did start on a path of deep diving into all things Led Zeppelin. Got all the albums, hunted down rare “B” sides, read biographies, even did a sad stint of trying to learn how to play their songs… that didn’t go well.

    Then, jump ahead three years, and I have dropped out of college and am working at a pizza delivery place in my home town. Who should happen to come in and get a job at that pizza place? Why, it’s Dan! It didn’t take him long to scope out my car, which had three band stickers on the back window; The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Nirvana. “What, no Pink Floyd?” he asked.

    I was slightly surprised that he remembered that conversation, but I had to admit that I never really got into Pink Floyd. I mean, I had a copy of “Darkside of the Moon,” and it was cool and all, but I never had any interest in going any farther than that.

    It was like I kicked his puppy. Dan was so disappointed in me. “Pink Floyd will be there for you when you’re ready,” he added.

    I don’t think about Dan often, but when I do, it’s all pleasant and happy memories. Sad to say, I have never come around to Pink Floyd. Not that I have anything against them. It’s just not my thing. Yet, when a Pink Floyd song comes up on a Spotify playlist, I think of Dan; knowing that he is still floating on a great pot cloud in the sky – waiting for me to join him – maybe to push play on “Wish You Were Here.”

  • ODDS and ENDS: Anyone Remember This, Super Bowl, and Sketchbooks

    (Guidelines are for losers)

    Does anyone remember Faces of Death? I’ve never seen it, nor do I want to. But the other day the movie popped in my head. I had a flashback of a memory from high school of finding out that it would be playing at a local dollar theatre at midnight, and how we all had to go. Through a combination of curfews and chickening-out, most of us didn’t go and see it. The handful of guys who did go just ended up arguing about how much of the movie was real or faked. (Turns out most of it was faked.) It’s funny thinking back on how controversial Faces of Death was back in the early 90’s, but also it’s not surprising how we couldn’t keep away from it. And don’t get me started on Banned from TV.

    I pick KC. I will also buy frozen hot wings from Trader Joe’s along with those frozen Mac ‘n Cheese balls this weekend for the game. Don’t give two craps about Usher; not that I have anything against him, he’s a talented man, just never been a fan. So… yeah; super bowl, yeah…

    I haven’t been drawing in my sketchbook lately. I have in my bio that I am a “sketchbook enthusiast,” but with my lack of production lately, I’m not sure if I can call myself that anymore. (It also begs the question; does anyone read bio’s let alone mine?) My daughter got a couple of sketchbooks for Christmas after having been inspired by her art teacher. She tries to draw something every day, and most of what she draws are cartoon characters, which is great. I hope that she establishes this as a habit that she keeps up with. Not that I am expecting her to become some “artist.” I just would like for her to have a creative outlet – a way to express herself and her feelings. Nothing bad comes from that.

  • Short Story Review: “Big Phipps Climbs the High Dive” by Brendan Gillen

    (The short story “Big Phipps Climbs the High Dive” by Brendan Gillen appeared in Volume 5 of Taco Bell Quarterly.)

    (Things will be spoiled!)

    I like flash fiction. It’s a literary form that I think correctly reflects the time we live in; cut the bullshit and get to the point. And it also feels like it’s a big middle finger to those writing professors that used the cliched response to their students that “less is more” but then would turn around and complain that their short story didn’t take enough time to develop theme, character, setting…

    Where stream of consciousness tried to capture the feeling of how thoughts and emotions roll around in one’s mind, flash fiction is an example of a thought, emotion, or memory that explodes to life in your mind, then fades away. “Big Phipps Climbs the High Dive” by Brendan Gillen is a sharp piece of flash fiction that seems to fit that definition.

    The piece is a memory from high school, and not a particularly fond one, but I wager that most people who write fiction don’t have good memories from high school. It’s about Phipps, a larger kid who is about to win a belly flop contest. The narrator unfortunately gave Phipps an awful nickname “Beans” which he regrets, and even tries to get other students to stop using, but the cats out of the bag. There is a sense that the narrator regrets many things when it comes to Phipps, but the narrator never gives us what Phipps full, real name is. It’s as if Phipps never became real to the narrator, even though we are given insights to who Phipps is. He is a boy forced to play football because of his size. He likes playing Warcraft, which the narrator has done with him at Phipps’ home, but the narrator won’t let himself becomes friends with him. An example of peer pressure on the narrator is given, and the feeling of shame just oozes off of the story. And after Phipps has won the contest, the narrator tries to talk to Phipps, but the narrator admits what he wants is for the charade of their “friendship” to continue. Phipps response is a perfect button for this piece, as Phipps is aware of the type of person the narrator really is, and is done with playing along.

    (And we are at the part of the blog post where I ask if you liked it. Then I ask you to please like, share, comment, or follow this blog. You know…)