Tag Archives: New Job

Explanation, Not An Excuse

by Richard

Sorry to not be here for now, dudes. I’m on the road picking up Zippy the College Boy.

Since he’s in school with a next-door-neighbor, I’m headed down to pick them up from Wilmington and the neighbor will be driving them back in January.

Combined with the new job, this is making for a difficulty in trying to find time to blog. Hence the day off for traveling. I’ll be back on Friday.

After 8 hours on the road and a day at work. Wheee!

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Oh, Geez. That’s Not Good.

by Richard

Looks like I might be in a bit of hot water here, dudes.

In all the rush to get the book, you know the one (A Dude’s Guide to Babies), I seem to have forgotten something.

This, right here, is November.

Sure, that means not much to most of you. Maybe Thanksgiving. Maybe to start shopping for Christmas. You know, that sort of stuff.

Heck, I even sort of remembered that my birthday was coming up this month.

What I seem to have forgotten until right now is that there’s another birthday coming up this month and it’s not my nephew’s (even though we share the same day). It’s the birthday of my wife, known as The Imperative. And it’s coming in less than two weeks.

And I have absolutely no idea what to get her.

And I haven’t been paying attention to what she’s been talking about as she goes through the gazillion catalogs that have arrived in our mailbox.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Looks like I’m going to have to go back to the well and maybe get one of my standby gifts. I’ve talked about how much she likes those Pandora beads and why I think they’re great. They’re small and easy to get and the ladies at the Pandora store keep track of which ones The Imperative has already purchased.

Either that or Brighton, which is a store in the mall. They’re great as well, in that they also keep a list of the stuff that has gone out of the store in The Imperative’s bag.

Of course, with the new job at the Wonderful Elementary School, I’ve got less time than usual to get out there and procrastinate before purchasing a last-minute present. I might have to even — gasp — plan ahead this year. Plan ahead, he said, forgetting for a moment that he just was lamenting the fact that he only had 10 days to figure out the whole gift thing.

Welp. Better get to work.

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A Field Of Waving Hands

by Richard

Where did all that enthusiasm go, dudes? Where did it go?

For those of who aren’t following this bit of blog religiously, a little update is in order. As part of the growing up and getting out initiative, I’ve gone out and gotten a new job outside the home.

I’m currently a Title I Tutor at a local elementary school. I’ve previously talked about what a great school it is, full of dedicated teachers who are giving these lucky kids a fantastic education.

What really struck me this last week, though, was the kids themselves. For the most part, whenever a teacher asks a question she’s answered by a forest of upraised hands, most of them waggling back and forth like a hyperactive dog’s tail after he’s just discovered coffee-dog biscuits.

Seriously, dudes, these kids really, really, really want the teacher to call on them. Heck, even kids who don’t know the answer to the question are raising their hands, sincerely hoping they will miraculously find the answer once the teacher calls their name.

Is it that these little dudes and dudettes want the teacher to validate them? Because, to the young, the teachers and other authority figures are important, nearly as important as pleasing those same figures?

Or is it that the kids want to be seen as smart? After all, this is an elementary school, well before those times when being seen as the smartest kid in the room is a detriment. Do they actually want to be seen as knowing the answers? Do they care?

I’m not sure. All I do know is that they do want to be called on. They do want to answer the question. No matter what the question was.

There’s certainly no shortage of persistence in those rooms. If the teacher calls on one kid, the hands go down slowly and reluctantly, simply biding their time until the next question is asked and the hand can shoot up once more. And the kid who just answered the last question? Her hand is back up there with all the rest.

That, dudes, is enthusiasm, no matter the reason behind it. It’s a familiar lament, but if we could only bottle that enthusiasm and sell it to the old and the tired. Anyone older than 17, in other words.

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