I had very little time today between getting home from school, eating, and getting Trevor to his band concert on time.  On my drive home from work, I was quite irritable about the proposition and was wishing that I could get out of it.  After all, it was even making me miss choir practice (which helps lift my spirits every week).

I'm glad that God gives me what I need and not what I wish for as I really enjoyed this concert (as I do every year).  While I didn't like this year's policy of keeping parents waiting by making them drop off their junior high students, and I probably should have kept my mouth shut after hearing an older gentleman rant about the need to close our borders because of Ebola, the music was fantastic.  The band program at Northwest is absolutely amazing (the choir program is top-notch as well)!  These kids performed college level music in marching uniforms and still managed to move that part of my soul that only good music can touch.  

Music education is so important for children (adults too, for that matter).  It teaches them things that simply can't be taught in any other subject.  Some of these things are tangible, such as practicing to perfection and understanding music, while others are much deeper, like how to pull a person's emotions with the sound of great songs.

First, Fox News needs to be ashamed of itself.  For that matter, the people who watch it should be ashamed of themselves for supporting such inane fear-mongering.  I lost a portion of my 4th hour yesterday because one student had heard that there was an ebola patient in Detroit and another student heard that ebola was now airborne.  Both got their information from a Fox news station, the airborne scare came from its national news desk.  Both stories were simply not true (although they tried to stretch the truth to make themselves not culpable for the fear that they were spreading).

Second, anyone who thinks that we need to close our borders due to ebola needs to realize that their "logical" suggestion would cause an awful lot more harm than good.  Forgetting that this would be a violation of many people's rights, severely hamper our economy, and cost a great deal of money, people need to recognize that this kind of overreaction actually increases the chances of a serious disease (like ebola) spreading.  Why?  If people are afraid of ostracism, they will hide their symptoms.  They certainly won't self-report them, let alone seek help.  Out of fear of persecution (and often a misplaced sense of invulnerability to disease) these people would not be appropriately treated until after they had been contagious for a while.  Besides, how long will we have our borders closed?  We've known about Ebola for over a decade.

Third, people need to remember the AIDS scares of the eighties.  News agencies were making money hand-over-fist by misreporting to a gullible nation.  It took over a decade for most of the misinformation to finally get cleared up.  Ebola's symptoms DO NOT include coughing or sneezing.  Ebola IS NOT airborne; it can only be passed through contact with bodily fluids (much like HIV and AIDS).  Proper precautions will keep the disease from spreading.

We have more to worry about when it comes to the flu, car accidents, and bathtub falls than we do Ebola.  We must not let fear force us into rash, and even devastating decisions.

Terrible events have ways of bringing people together.  As more friends and family have started to pass away, I have found myself being reunited with friends and family with whom I have lost contact over the years.  This was certainly true for the visitation I attended tonight.

As the viewing was for one of my former coworkers, I found myself in the company of many friends who I have missed so much since I left Colon Schools.  The viewing was temporarily closed off as family a friends could say a Rosary or wait outside.  Our group used that opportunity to get back in touch with one another.

While there are number of reasons that I am glad that I left Colon to teach elsewhere, I certainly have missed the people with whom I used to work.  We were very much a family.  I have developed friendships and have worked to bring my coworkers at Lincoln closer together as well, and have felt that our relationships have improved, but it's a bigger school and the chemistry between people is different.

As I approached my former colleagues tonight, it was a joy to see their faces light up as they recognized me and greeted me with smiles and hugs.  While we were gathered for a solemn occasion, we also basked in our renewed friendship.  Somehow, it didn't seem like over nine years had passed since I had seen some of them.  We promised to stay in better contact, and I sincerely hope that we do so.

A series of break-ins have occurred within a few miles of our house.  Thus far, the assailants have not been caught.  I don't know many details about the situation, but Janelle has been concerned enough to leave on our porch light throughout the night.

While I will leave questions about the effectiveness of this particular practice aside, I realized that my greatest concern isn't that they might take some of my valuables, but that they might break into our home while we are still in it.  Things are things, but the thought of something happening to my children has me wondering if we should invest in an alarm system, or at least some NRA stickers to put on the house windows.

When Annie was still alive, I felt a bit more protected.  Between her night-time prowling and Janelle's light sleeping, I believed that we would have plenty of response time should an intruder decide to enter our house.  Now that we don't have a dog (at least for the time being) and since Janelle's light sleeping has seemingly gotten deeper, I find myself a bit more anxious at night.  I have been waking up more often and feeling more tired in the morning even after a longer time in bed.

I suppose that it doesn't help that I still hold onto a bit of my childhood fear of the dark, particularly when I'm still in a dreamy haze.  Maybe keeping that outdoor light on will at least make it so I don't go bump in the dark as often.

A colleague of mine from my days at Colon Jr./Sr. High School passed away this Sunday at the young age of 65.  When I first arrived at Colon, he was one of those quirky math teachers (and our school had a few of them ... I'm looking at you, Jenni and Munch) who seemed to genuinely like what he did ... even if the middle school students seemed to be driving him crazy.  

I did not know him well, but all of my memories of him are pleasant.  I also shared some of his concerns about how our government (federal, state, and local) were dealing with education, particularly in how teachers get treated.  While I can't come up with specifics, I know that he gave me helpful advice and was a pleasant lunch companion.

I was sad to see him leave the school, and am sadder still that he has passed away.  I pray that he has reached his heavenly reward and that his family's sorrow will be tempered by knowing that he made a real difference with the time that he had on this Earth.  

Today's first reading and Gospel both use the parable of the vineyard owner.  In both cases, the vineyard owner builds a wall (or hedge), a wine press, and a tower.  In the first reading, wild grapes take over his fields.  In the Gospel, he rents out the land, but when he sends servants for his portion the harvest, the tenants beat, abuse, and kill them.  He then sends his son, hoping they will respect him, but they they abuse and kill him too.  In both cases, the landowner eventually abandons the land or the tenants and seeks others who will be productive.  These aren't nice tales.  They don't have happy endings.  They warn about neglecting the will of God, that the rewards promised to us will go to others if we don't do our part in making the world a better place.

In truth, my focus this mass was not on the readings as much as on the homily.  Our pastor discussed the role of exorcism in the Catholic Church.  It was one of the longest sermons that I can remember.  While it dealt with the presence of the devil and demons in our world (a topic that I wrote about this week, even), I found myself not being entirely accountable.  Instead, I was worrying about the length of the mass, especially since there was also a baptism.  I usually don't mind long services, myself (in fact, I miss Fr. Jim's three hour Easter Vigil), but I know that they stress out my father, and that my wife had a meeting today.  So, as the homily went on, I couldn't help but feel my anxiety grow.

My mind tends to wander anyway.  I even have that problem when I'm praying on my own.  My thoughts drift.  When I was younger, I intentionally brought my daydreams to the forefront of my thoughts as a way to pass the time more quickly.  Now that I have a better understanding of the beauty of the mass, I still find those childish habits returning and my focus disappearing.  I still listened to the parables about the vineyards and the discussion about demon possession, but I did not give them the concentration I feel they deserved.

I suppose that this is how some of my students feel as I talk about history.

Were I to get complete control (and I mean complete control) of a school or school system, there are a few things that I would like to change.  Probably the most important of these things would be the structure of the school day itself.

For one, our schools start too early.  Despite a plethora of studies that show that middle and high school students benefit the most from late starts to the school day, we continue to force students to be to school before 8am (let alone the recommended 9am).  Even college age students do their best to avoid 8am classes.  Yet we have some students who, due to practice schedules, actually have to be at the school by 6:30am.  When you add in hours of homework, after school activities going throughout the evening, and television studios putting their most attractive (to high school age students) shows after 9pm,  it is no surprise that many students are yawning through their school day.

To make matters worse, we throw too many subjects to them through the school day.  A full load at the college is between 12-18 credits (with 18 pushing the limit).  That's the equivalent of three to six classes a semester that meet between one to four times a week.  Most high schools run a six-class schedule, with students having to juggle the maximum subjects of most college schedules while meeting for five hours a week for each subject.  Despite what many politicians claim, our students are actually in school too long.

We also need more selection for our students.  Right now they are packed into classes that supposedly teach the same standards at the same time even though we know that students learn differently and at different paces, and even though we know that not all of our students will need the exact same lesson at the same time.

Later starts and a varied class system with fewer on ground hours is a program that has made our colleges and universities some of the best in the world.  I know that we would still need to supervise our students through the school day (something that colleges don't need to worry as much about), but we could do so by allowing students to pick tutoring centers during the time that they are not in direct instruction classrooms.  These centers could range from study halls that provide a quite place to work, recess areas to give some of our students that much needed activity that they are often denied, "reruns" of courses so they get a double hit of the info, student-led group study sessions, or even one-on-one tutoring.

There are flaws with my proposed system, but I think that it's better than most schools are doing right now.  Granted, any system is going to do poorly under the current financial and legislative constraints that public schools are currently under.  Still, it's nice to dream.

Over the course of this week, I keep finding myself in positions where I can't write anything down, but I have fantastic ideas ... for stories, for games, and for this blog.  By the time I get situated so that I can write something, the ideas are gone, leaving only a faint residue to tickle the back of my brain.  This is more frustrating to me than normal writer's block, where I try to sit down to write and force myself to be creative.  Rather than facing a blank slate, I had something worthwhile and lost it.

Our minds are such complex and funny things.  Moments of forced idleness, such as riding in a car, allow are minds to wander and make the wonderful connections that we would love to reach for when we try to write.  Yet, when forced to actually do the work, our minds come up with every possible excuse to avoid the heavy lifting of writing.

I know this is why many writers carry around a writer's journal with them.  That way they can jot down their inspired thoughts soon after they occur.  I keep one next to my bed for this reason.  I find, however, that when I attempt to carry one around, the ideas tend to be even more illusive, waiting for a moment when I don't have a pen or can't use a pen to show themselves.  This game of mental hide-and-seek is not that amusing for me anymore.

Oh well ... they probably weren't that great of ideas anyway ...

It has been a fast month.  I can scarcely believe that the month is over.  It feels as though school began just a few days ago.  Now we are already half way through the marking period.  I can't help but recap the events of this month in my mind.

School started (and has moved through the first month).  So far, despite any political and economical concerns, it's been a good start to the year.

I am not teaching a class at Baker this term.  I have been able to use some of my time to play outside and spend more time after school getting things done at Lincoln.

Janelle's brother visited for the month, staying at her sister's house.  We got to play Carcassonne, hang out, and watch as the tree house he was building got better and better.

We made our annual visit to the Renaissance Festival.

Rowen started preschool.  While initially unwilling to talk to his teacher or most of his classmates, he seems to be enjoying it more now.

The new TV season has begun.  Janelle loves Outlander (which is why I have read the first book).  Dr. Who has been a bit less than I would hope, but I like the new Doctor.  Gotham shows some potential.  The Blacklist started with a great opening.  The Big Bang Theory's first two shows were quite entertaining.  I'm looking forward to the Flash, Arrow, Resurrection, Bones, the 100, and Elementary.

I made one entry to a writing contest.

I'm certain that there is more, but that hits most of the main points.

As I have a bit more time on my hands for the first time in over eight years, I have decided to spend a bit more of it outside.  Otherwise we have all been spending too much of our time either watching TV or playing computer games (especially now that Connor has caught the video game addiction).  And so for the past few days, my boys and I have been taking walks around our neighborhood and finishing with a few shots with the basketball.  

Connor is riding his new, but already too small, bike.  He's still getting the hang of the pedals, and today was the first day that he made it up the first hill by himself (I still had to push him up the second hill).  The training wheels are still on, but he needs a bit more practice with the steering and pedaling before they should come off.  Rowen, meanwhile, is learning to stay to the side of the road and is able to run for quite a while.  It is cute to see him bend a bit and rest his hands on his knees when he gets a bit winded.  Trevor still likes to prove that he can beat all of us home.

My basketball skills have certainly atrophied, but my boys make me look like a pro star.  Connor can nearly get the ball up to the basket, Rowen just throws the ball randomly, and Trevor thinks hitting the post makes his shot a "close one."  Today, a neighbor child came over with his football as well, and so I found myself juggling a football and basketball as I seemed to be the boys' favorite target.

I have also liked our walks and time outside as I've been seeing more of my neighbors these past few days than I have almost the entire time that we have lived here.  I truly did not realize how much my extra work was isolating me from ... well ... everything.  It is clear that I need to get us all out even more often.

Today's Gospel gives a short, but important, parable.  In it, the father asks his two sons to complete a task.  One says he will, but doesn't even attempt the job.  The other says he won't but then goes and completes the task.  Jesus doesn't just want "yes-men."  Too often people claim they are Christian and then do not emulate Christ (for that matter, I've been guilty of this).  Worse are those who persecute others in the name of Jesus.  Jesus specifically says that the outcasts (prostitutes and tax collectors) are more deserving of salvation than the religious of his time.

How about now?  Too often "Christians" are judging, harassing, and persecuting people they think are not deserving.  "Christian" candidates take away money from the neediest, put the harshest laws on crimes committed by the disadvantaged, and claim a moral superiority on ethical issues without addressing the causes.  Jesus preached to (not at) the underprivileged and the forgotten, the people who most of us would like to forget exist.  He warned us that we can't just "talk the talk."  We must put deeds behind our words.

Our homily today covered a different matter: the persecution of Christians at the hands of ISIS.  While our priest presented atrocities committed, my mind could not handle the level of slaughter that was discussed.  Now, I am a cynic at heart, and I know about the methods of propaganda as well as the misinformation that can come from a war zone.  What I have found is that while the details discussed in the homily might not be true, there is no denying that ISIS (or whatever name it has decided on today) is committing war crimes in Iraq and Syria.

A student of mine once told me that bin Laden was not a Muslim, that he might have claimed to be Muslim, but he was not a true follower as a true follower would not harm innocents.  I do not know how true that statement is, but I can't help but wonder the same about ISIS.  Do they realize that, although they might claim to be Islamic, they actually serve Satan?  Only Satan revels in this kind of bloodshed.

We need to be careful about how we interpret God's plans for us.  God is the ultimate judge.  I worry about those who claim to carry out judgement for Him.

Reading about St. Vincent de Paul on his feast day made me think about the concept of (and connection between) religion and charity.  What most impressed me about his work is that, unlike most religious orders of the time, he did not require his followers to live austere lives, to spend most of their day in prayer, or to separate themselves from the world.  Instead, he told them that helping those in need was a form of prayer itself.

We can be charitable in several ways: in giving of our treasure, in giving of our time, and in giving of our talents.  Within these categories of charity, we can find a number of ways to give of ourselves to help others.  Too often charity is thought of as simply a monetary donation, usually given around the time of Christmas.  True charity is about giving of oneself for the benefit of others.  It does not require fanfare or recognition.

This past summer, an enterprising marketing expert came up with the "ice bucket challenge."  It was (is?) an effective method of raising money and awareness for ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) that tapped into people's desire to give of themselves, to fit in with others, and to make a spectacle.  While I am glad that money was raised to help end a disease (although that particular foundation supports the destruction of embryos), I am bothered by the way it required people to name or "challenge" others.  Charity should not be done through shaming.  Just because people didn't dump ice water over their heads doesn't mean that they don't give generously to good causes, and by giving, I mean more than just money.

We can all be more charitable in our lives, but we should do so on our terms, not out of fear of the fires of hell or out of pressure of the ice bucket challenge. 

My wife's brother has been visiting from Oregon for the past month and is about to fly back tomorrow morning.  During this time, he has been staying with my wife's sister and her family.  While there, he has been building a treehouse for their oldest child.  Without having a tree big enough, they chose to build the treehouse in a small group of trees, using the biggest two as the main supports.  He used a special type of support that allows the trees to move back and forth without moving the treehouse itself.

The treehouse is over ten feet off the ground, with a deck that goes around half of it and an observation platform on the roof.  The interior is like a little office with a both a large and small window, a solid door, and a small attic.  It reminds me of the writing gazebo that I wrote about earlier.  It would be an ideal place to get away from everything and spend time with thoughts and dreams.

I find myself envying my niece's get-away.  I had always wanted a treehouse while I was growing up.  Now as an adult I find myself wanting one even more.

My shoulders are sore.

Growing up, I loved spending time hanging from trees, running obstacle courses in my yard, and jumping around playground equipment.  I climbed up the outside of spiral (actually helical, but what's in a name?) slides, dangled from the outside railings around my grandparents' deck, and used any narrow flat surface as a balance beam.  By the time I was in middle school, I felt that there wasn't anything that I couldn't do.  

Today, the closest that I get to the same feeling is when playing Assassin's Creed.  There is a middle-school portion of my brain that believes the actions of Altair, Ezio, Connor, and Edward are realistic, and that (with mild practice) I would be capable of doing the same things.

On Tuesday, I watched as my youngest child had similar thoughts while playing on various playground equipment at both Ella Sharp Park and the St. Mary's school parking lot.  Watching him play with enthusiasm (and still some caution in higher locations), filled me with nostalgia.  One set of monkey bars was built sturdily enough to hold my weight, so I dangled from them for a few moments, quickly coming to the realization that I could not even pull myself up half way to a chin up, let alone swing from one bar to the other.  In my mind, I remembered being able to pull myself up and flip over to the top of the bars.

It seemed so tantalizingly close, but instead I think I might have pulled something.