Posts Tagged ‘second’
He came on Friday, reminding us all how true it is that, as one of America’s founding codgers noted, fish and visitors stink after three days. He called one of my close female friends in a moment of crisis.
Newly graduated in December 2007, he had made the unfortunate choice of leaving CalPoly with a plain, ol’ business finance degree. That’s the degree linemen choose — in the business department, the prerequisite bar is usually set so low that Mike Tyson would earn his summa cum laude, even without threatening to bite off his professors’ ears.
As a finance graduate might understand, because there is such a great supply of business majors, there is very little demand. He’s been living out of his car since he left school, and hasn’t had a job since he boneheadedly quit his internship. He’s made a lot of mistakes.
Of course, he swears he’s made up this time, that he has a few good job opportunities on the horizon. Press a little harder, and you’ll find that these opportunities are no opportunities at all. They entail selling insurance, providing your own leads and working solely on commission. I’d rather work for Alec Baldwin.
Moreover, our friend is eternally awkward, and has no idea how transparent was his sucking up. Nicole would ask him: Want to do a puzzle, friend?
Sure. I love puzzles, dude.
His unenthusiasm was palpable. Or, a different friend would ask another: How’d you like hiking up in Yosemite?
It was sweet. Once we got to the top of our mountain, there were all of these hot chicks, especially Nicole.
I’m told he laughed his way out of the shock and horror the within-earshot Nicole gave him. He was the definition of pathetic, and almost the second definition of sympathetic. Early on his last day in Nicole’s apartment, he broke the shower head. Not because he intended to, but because he forced it in a direction it was not at all inclined to swivel. He was pathetically sympathetic.
Until, of course, he in confidence he tried to make what he’d play off as another misfired joke.
I didn’t want to take advantage of my mom or my sister, so I’ve been taking advantage of my friend Danny and my friend Nicole. Heh-eh.
My facial expression told him that I was not the kindred spirit he imagined me to be. He stuttered a bit, and clumsily tried to cover up his tracks with a few more of his one-and-a-half laughs.
Someone is in a dire need of a reset button, so it’s too bad God hasn’t seen fit to make ‘em. Part of me believes it’d just be a waste, anyway: A guy like that would just bone up and make the same mistakes the second time around.
He left on Sunday, proving once and for all that fish and visitors can stink within three days, as well as after.
Most weekends, I designate one day as a work day, and another as a fool around and do nothing day. Responsibilities, chores, lesson planning and everything I have to do usually happens the day before I get back to work.
A normal two-day weekend would make Saturday my sleep-in-until-noon day and Sunday my day to get everything done. I like it well enough.
On three-day weekends, I have two days to slack off, and I love them for it. I can say, without hyperbole, that they rank right up there with Avatar reruns and mint chocolate chip ice cream. I should buy some mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Sunday is the day I’m catching up on The Colbert Report, House, M.D. and Ghost in the Shell: Second GiG, sleeping when I get tired and eating when I get hungry. I’ll probably get around to finally beating Gabriel Knight, cementing my status as a self-described adventure game fanatic.
Monday is the day I’ll finish up my lesson plans for the year, redo most of my TaskStream stuff, write a bunch of multiple-choice questions for Thursday’s test and finally settle down in my new place, tuning out the barking contests outside my window between one dog named Charlie Brown and another named Lucy Brown. One day left.
After a week of classroom-related stress, how do you relax?
This use of you’re is not a typo.
Mnemonics — little catch phrases that work as memory aids — are a great way to help students memorize things.
An example brought up around this blog lately was the Bill of Rights, and I had in the comments mentioned that my master teacher and I had used mnemonics to help students remember that list.
These mnemonics are the creation of my master teacher. I take no credit for their merits or flaws.
First Amendment — because it’s first, it’s the most important amendment: speech, expression, religion, assembly, petition for a redress of grievances.
Second Amendment — you have two arms, so this is the right to bear arms.
Third Amendment — three o’s in “quartering trooops.”
Fourth Amendment — four syllables in search-and-sei-zure.
Fifth, Sixth, Seventh Amendments — these have to do with trials, and start with the most important trial rights.
Eighth Amendment — the numeral 8 looks like a hangman’s noose, so “cruel and unusual punishment.”
Ninth and Tenth Amendments — just remember: these deal with unenumerated rights and powers, respectively. Ninth is people, and Tenth is states.
This was just the beginning. Though we would attack each amendment in greater detail, this list of mnemonics worked as our introduction, conclusion and touchstone for the entire judicial branch unit.
The trick with mnemonics, though, is that students will sometimes fail to make the connection between the memory aid — quartering trooops — and the actual knowledge needed — “Troops cannot be quartered in a civilian’s house during peacetime.”
Mnemonics can only be intended as the foundation of knowledge, or to fill in gaps. Students should understand that other knowledge will still be needed, i.e. that the Sixth Amendment gives people lawyers, and the Seventh has to do with civil trials by jury in amounts greater than $20, even though the mnemonic groups those two in with the trial amendments.
Mnemonics are an excellent mortar, or even an excellent foundation, but they cannot replace more complex scaffolding or knowledge.
Be sure to check out more of my tips and tricks for teaching the Bill of Rights.
