Skipping Beatles

A child at my school knows all of the words to "Man in the Box" by Alice in Chains. I forgot to take into account that Rock Band flaunts that as one of the beginner levels. But I grew up on that song. This kid said that he was going to Powerman-5000 tonight, he said that he met Static-X on their tour bus when he was two.

I asked his dad this as he picked him up and verified it all. This kid loves hard rock. Now, personally, I think those two bands are bogus, campy, hollow artless pieces of energetic flair to flaunt when you're drunk, angry, and stupid (which I like to be on occasion, and that's why I have an ounce of tolerance for these bands. That or I'm ignorant to how great they really are, and radio killed what could have been a good first impression), but I'm impressed this kid even knows this kind of music at his age.

His dad said "Yeah, I skipped The Beatles and went right for the gusto." "Good job!" I retorted. I'd like to see what his musical preference is going to be twenty years from now, coming from a guy who actually started on The Beatles from his own father.

I literally sang "Man in the Box" with the kid word for word on the playground today. Supplementing the Clear Channel version for the dual "shit" bombs, of course. A highlight of my time at the preschool.

Death From Above 1979 -- "Romantic Rights"

When the Twitch Rears

Two kids were fighting on the playground. I came up to them, pulled them apart, and said:

"Look at me! Look at yourselves! You wanna keep on fighting like this the rest of your lives?! It's all you guys do, is fight! You know why we get mad telling you not to fight? Cuz you'll keep doing it the rest of your life if you don't learn otherwise! You guys know Dinkytown, right? Right over there? There are bars around there with people my age. Adults. You know what a lot of them like to do? Fight. All the time. Sometimes just for looking at each other funny. You give them a juice that adults drink, alcohol, and all they want to do is fight! You wanna be like them?! DO YA?! Jeeze, you're totally going to turn out like that. You don't listen! You're gonna go to jail, you keep it up. If I have to tell you again to not punch each other you're going to my version of jail. The picnic table! You got it?! You wanna be drunken losers in Dinkytown?! I didn't think so! Don't let me catch you punching each other again, or I'm calling your parents and sending you to jail. GOT IT?!

Now, who wants to go into the peanut butter machine?"

Needless to say, I hardly had any sleep last night, and my first sip of coffee was still waiting to be savored. I've also decided I'm going to be a peanut butter monster birthed from the "peanut butter machine" (a stupid plastic orange tube on our playground) for the Miniapple version of Halloween.

The Dead Weather -- "I Cut Like a Buffalo"

Hair o' the Dog

Nothing beats the harsh reactions of children to an extreme haircut. For instance, my own. I went from a shoulder length Robert Plant style to a short, less threatening Flock of Seagulls style. Here are some of the reactions:

1) "You -- you look like ME, now, Peter!"

2) "You're gross."

3) To another child about me: "He doesn't look that scary to me."

4) "Your hair's doing something."

5) "I like your hair. I'm sorry I called names to you before."

I said, "Like what?"

"Like 'Pumpkin Peter'."

6) Toddlers not recognizing me anymore and crying when I held them.

7) "It looks like you shaved your hair."

I said: "I cut it, actually."

"That's what I thought you did."


Basically, most of the time kids would hear my voice, talk to me while facing away, turn to face me, then stop talking. Their eyes would glare, mouths open. They'd cock their heads, smile, and not say anything, forgetting what they had to say.

To their credit, it is a pretty drastic change, though. Parents didn't recognize me, either.

Thanks Ashleigh!

Beastie Boys -- "Pass the Mic"

The Missing Beak

An interesting anecdote as told by my coworker today in the nap room:

In Milwaukee, I have a neighbor, a grandma, who told my mom a story a little while ago. Something that happened to her 7 year old granddaughter.

She said that her grandchild went on a field trip to the Shed Aquarium in Chicago. Things were going smoothly. The children behaved, willingly herded to each tank. Staring at each of the exhibits.

All of a sudden the teacher realized that my neighbor's grandchild was missing. They started to panic, looking all over the aquarium. They looked in the Oceanarium room, and found her near the beluga whales, to their relief.

On the bus ride home, the child spoke to her teacher. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I did something bad."

The teacher shook her head. "No, it's all right. You know what you did, and we have you safe and sound. It doesn't matter. It's okay."

The girl persisted. "No, I'm sorry. I did a really bad thing."

The teacher also persisted. "It's okay, dear, really. You're on the bus with us. You scared us a little but it's alright."

The girl shook her head. "No, you're going to be mad at me. I did something really bad."

The teacher started. "No you didn't--"

She stopped as the child started to unzip her backback. Inside, quiet and frightened, was a penguin. A live penguin that had crawled into the girl's backpack. And they had traveled halfway to Milwaukee with it on the bus.

The teacher yelled "Oh my god!"

Apparently, as far as I can tell, the girl had snuck behind the scenes into the penguin exhibit and had somehow lured a penguin into her backpack.

They called the aquarium, turned the bus around, and retured the penguin before returning to school.

--------------

I just about shit a brick when I heard this story.

Blue Roses -- "Doubtful Comforts"

A Teacher's Love

When the day finally comes when I quit my job at Miniapple, I'll feel wholly satisfied that all of the basic activities and experiences I wanted to share with the children have been met. Today, the last of my true wants was realized:

The older kids, while at the public library, checked out, for their classroom, "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark". Upon finding this treasure while rooting through the book pile in search of "new fish" to read to the children at Day Care circle time I remembered that it happened to be a certain child's last day at the school. He is about to go into elementary school. This kid has pestered me every day since I first retold orally the "Scary Stories" stories from memory sans book two years ago to tell the same stories to him again and again. He never let up.

I had the book in my hands today, and I thought it would be the perfect way to say goodbye to him.

So, with a picture book for the wee lil' ones tucked under one arm, and with Alvin Schwartz's shit-your-pants-from-fright collection of debauchery tucked under the other, I went down to the group. I announced my finds, first the standard safe picture book. Second, my jackpot.

I'll never forget the eyes of that child. They went as wide as a barn owl's.

After I trudged my way through the first book I announced, "As a present to -----, I'll take a small group of some of you into the library to read this story." A small group of five came with me.

Now remember: the leaving child had heard these stories countless amounts of times. He even has the audio book version (which might still be one of the most terrifying pieces of audio from my childhood).

After reading "The Big Toe" the kid said "Peter, I think I wanna go back into the climber now. It's too scary."

I was shocked. "What?! You've heard these millions of times, man!"

He said, "Yeah . . . I-I know, but . . ."

I persisted. "No, no, no. Not until you see this page."

The most terrifying picture of my childhood came from a story called "The Haunted House". I avoided this picture at all costs when I was little. I skipped the story only because of the picture.

No way was he going to get away without seeing that photo:

All the kids said "Ew!"

The leaving child said louder "Peter, I wanna go into the other room!"

"No, no, no. How about the classic 'Bloody Fingers' story."

He was back in my clutches.

The kids were hooked. Their parents came in, present for my reading of "Me Tye Dough-ty Walker!" They loved it. Especially at the climactic scream at the end. The leaving child howled with frightful laughter, hugged me hard, and embarked on his post-pre-school life.

The last thing he did in pre-school was scream in delight. I think it was the best send-off I've ever given a child. I loved that kid.

*Here is one of the stories from that notorious audio book. I've searched high and low over the years for it. A couple of months ago I found it on a torrent site. Best download of my life.*


Saul Williams -- "Skin of a Drum"

One Dollar Baby

Apparently, there's an underground prostitution racket going on at the school.

A parent called the school today relaying a statement a five year old boy had said to her three year old girl earlier that morning.

This peer said to her child: "I'll give you a dollar if you suck my pee-pee."

No word on whether or not she took him up on the offer . . .

Garbage -- "Queer"

Rats and Revenge

Yesterday, I was passing a parent in the school. She smiled and said, "Peter, you're like the Pied Piper around here."

I smiled back. "How's that?"

She said, "You know the Pied Piper, don't you?"

I said, "I know the reference. I don't really know what he's all about."

She said, "Check it out."

I nodded. "Okay, I will."

So I checked it out on Wikipedia.

Apparently, the story goes as follows: A man is given the job to rid a town of a rat infestation. He plays his pipe, which lures the rats out of their hiding places, and lures them into the river, where all the rats drowned. For some reason, the people of the town refuse to pay him for the extermination, and the Piper vows to get his revenge.

He does so by playing his pipe for the children in the town, and one hundred and thirty youngin's follow him out of town and to a cave, never to be heard of again. A crippled child comes back and tells the people about the happenings within the cave. Adaptations include the Piper murdering each child, strewing dismembered body parts all over the nearby forest; not doing anything to the children, just holding them ransom, until he gets his money.

Theories point to the Pied Piper being a symbol for Death. Others point to him being a psychopathic pedophile.

After I read this I burst out laughing. I understand that the mom was most likely referring to children following me around based on my games and storytelling.

At the same time, she inadvertently called me a pedophile.

Blitzen Trapper -- "Black River Killer"

The Coma Child Incident

I'm a fucking jerk when it comes to kids. More precisely, I terrorize them if they don't do what they're supposed to do.

One of my ongoing "-isms" at the school is to threaten to call a doctor if the kids are crying due to minor scrapes, blisters, little bumps to the noggin'. I usually keep a cell phone in my pocket while at work to check the time periodically, take a few snapshots of something cute, etc.

Today, I actually called the doctor on a kid.

2:30 is wake-up time. I turn on classic rock radio, turn it up (today we rocked out to Led Zeppelin's "What Is and What Should Never Be". One child, no taller than my knee, was playing drums while I air guitared), and put the cots away before reading a story and giving the kids a snack. One kid wouldn't wake up when he was supposed to today. He was breathing. He's just stubborn as all hell, as bad as a teenager.

I shook him with all the kids watching. "WAKE UP!!!" No avail. I threatened: "OH NO, HE'S IN A COMA!! HE'S NOT WAKING UP!! CALL THE DOCTOR!!!"

I took out my phone . . . and thought. What if I called Shannon . . .

I turned on the speaker. I called Shannon. She answered timidly, sitting in a cubicle, no doubt, at her job.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this the doctor? *Quieter* ShannonthisisPeteryou'readoctorplayalongdowhatisay."

Shannon: "Dude, I'm at work."

Me: "*Quieter* It'sokayjustplayalong. *Louder* Oh, this is the doctor! What's your name?"

Shannon: "Sam."

Me: "Who?"

Shannon: "Sam. Dr. Sam."

Me: "Oh, Sam. How are you? Yes, I have a patient, his name is -----. Is his name in your registry?"

Shannon: "Yes, yes it is. He's on record."

Me: "Good! Good! Well, I'm checking to see if he has a history of sleeping too long. As in falling into comas. I think he might be in one."

Shannon: "Hmmm . . . I might need to see him."

Me: "You will? Oh man. Alright, well, should we give him a shot of something. Adrenaline, maybe? We've got that lying around."

Shannon: "Yeah, I'd give him the shot. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

(The kid's eyes burst open)

Me: "Oh! Wait, he just woke up. I think he's okay!"

Shannon: "I'd give him the shot anyway."

(The kid jumped out of bed shouting "NOOOOOO!!!")

Me: "Alright, thank you Doctor."

Shannon: "No problem. I'll see you soon."


After this exchange, all the kids shouted "Can you call the doctor on me, too, Peter?!" The coma child was embarrassed and started fake punching me.

Thank you Shannon for playing along. You just scored a jackpot amount of points in my AWESOME book.

Led Zeppelin -- "What Is and What Should Never Be"

Give Peas a Chance

I assume you've read "The Princess and the Pea", or one of the story's adaptations. If you haven't, I'll refresh you:

A prince laments about how he can't find a REAL princess. They're all too beautiful, too fat, too skinny, have too many pets, etc. One day, a princess shows up at the doorstep of the court, seeking shelter from the rain (first off -- a princess in the rain? She doesn't travel by carriage or with coverage? Maybe she was also lamenting, wrought with emotion, opting to walk, dwelling upon her princess thoughts, like princesses are apt to do). The queen takes the opportunity to test this wet beauty. She places twenty of the most comfy mattresses in all the land on top of one single pea. She places the princess on this towering inferno of slumber. The next night, the king and queen, over the newspaper and english muffins, ask her how she slept. The princess complains that she could hardly sleep a wink due to an uncomfortable lump pressing against her back all night. The family smiles, content that because she is so sensitive, sensitive enough to feel a pea through twenty mattresses, she will be the rightful bride for the prince.

I have some reservations for this story, namely on the subject of "sense making": who in their right mind would want to marry someone who feels a fucking pea through twenty mattresses? If she's that sensitive, I'm sure she'll complain all the time. "The wind has grit in the air, it hurts my face!", "The sun beams are too hot!", "Your prick, while small, feels like sandpaper amongst my womb walls!"

How is this story showing children the merit of true love? It doesn't. It makes people want high-maintenance pea brains . . . come to think of it, this does explain the intriguing monsters down on First Ave. in downtown Minneapolis on the weekends. The high-strung princesses are out in full force in that locale with many a drooling popped collared chivalrian following close behind.

I'm never going to read that story to children again.

Metric -- "Monster Hospital"

Nature Vs. Napalm

I've touched on the nap room aquarium before, but I had an interesting finding regarding the fish inside this afternoon. While sitting and manning the kids in their cots, there's really not much to do except watch either the clock or the fish swimming around in the tank. It's really a beautiful tank. Puts you to sleep if it's in the dark.

I started noticing a pattern in the behavior of all the fish: they hate each other. There's one alpha fish, a dark, white spotted fish that's bigger than all the other fish. All it does is chase and nibble at other fish. Every fish gets chased away from it, no matter where it is in the tank. It doesn't have it's own territory. It just threatens each fish whenever they are in its vicinity. Seriously, I've never thought this about a fish, but that fish is an asshole.

All the other fish have taken on the role this alpha asshole fish hath wrought as the code of the tank. They chase all the other fish away from wherever they are. They don't chase the asshole fish, but they chase all the others. They especially gang up on one particularly ugly fish, coming at it from all sides and nibble away. It's kind of sad.

I think it's also funny that all the kids act this way on the playground. If a kid is around another kid they'll usually steal a ball, hit, throw woodchips, they're dicks to each other. Does Miniapple harbor hostile energy within all creatures, or are all preschools like this? All fish? I have a feeling all creatures are like this wherever you go.

You want to know why war will never cease? Take a look at preschools and other animals locked up in a designated perimeter. The kids have only so far to travel in their exploration. So do we, as relegated by societal rules. Invisible fences. We're all hostile, and we are born with it.

Violence is inherent and ever present.

A Perfect Circle -- "Peace, Love, and Understanding"

Poetic Justice

One of the routines I pull with the kids is getting fake hurt with a hanging rubber ball in the climber. The kids will pull back the ball and let it go at full speed. I put my hands over my face and pretend that the ball smacked me uber hard in the noggin'. I'll fall over screaming. The kids fall over screaming, but in laughter. It's a pretty popular bit.

Today a child came over to me with a smile on his face. "Peter, I've got to show you something!" I'm thinking "It's probably a bug, he's only three." He says, "Stop here!" It was in the trajectory of the ball. "Oh," I think. "I get it."

He pulls back the ball. BOOM!! I go down. Huge laughter. I'm just surprised at the way he played into the bit, by pretending to show me something.

We do the routine two more times. After the third time of falling down, a kid came up behind me and asked a question. I turned around to talk to him really quick.

I turned back . . . and was slammed in the face for real by the ball. I was down screaming real bloody murder, the kids were screaming in laughter.

Papercuts -- "Future Primitive"

Roast Queef

Here's a question:

How come we can't show our private parts to others?

Is your answer "Well, because"? Figured as much.

A child in the class was hiking up her skirt, showing off her stuff. My coworker scolded: "We keep those parts for ourselves."

Why? I'm not debating, I'm just asking. I asked her. She didn't want to hear it.

While researching for the burlesque show I did a couple years ago, I came across Michel Foucalt's "History of Sexuality". In it, he discusses why homosexuality is deemed unholy (it's not for the sanctity of marriage, it's more along the lines of sexism -- males were seen as inferior if they were "on the bottom", etc.). It probably stems from this area of history. Showing weakness.

Well, answer me that question, given that history might have taught us that it would show weakness. Now, in the postmodern age, we know better. It shows empowerment, more likely, now.

Why can't we show our stuff if it might empower us? What the hell is wrong with us?

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with ME for dwelling on this?

The Dead Weather -- "Hang You From the Heavens"

Upchuck

I woke up today feeling really woozy. I dry heaved in the toilet right before I left for work. Coming in fifteen minutes late, I slowly trudged up to the director. "Hey, if there's any way, any way at all possible, to let me home early, please, please let me go home."

She took a look at my face and said "Alright," with a knowing glance. I apparently looked like hell.

An hour later I threw up in the adult toilet. I left five minutes after and felt like crap the rest of the day.

Here's the kicker:

I missed out on my students' graduation because I felt so crappy. Crappy enough to miss out on a proud day for the kids. What the fuck is up with my body?!

The Zombies -- "Going Out of my Head"

Sad Jesus

Tonight, Miniapple had its Spring Program at St. Lawrence Church, complete with a potluck at the end. A couple of days ago, while sitting in "rehearsal" with the kids in the pews waiting for our turn to go up and sing, the kids were asking about Jesus on the cross.

"Who is that?"

Me: "That's Jesus."

Kid: "He looks sad."

Me: "I think he's actually supposed to be happy. People think he died to make others happy, so that made him happy."

Kid: "Happy?! What?!"

Me: "Hey, don't look at me. I didn't make it up. A lot of people believe in that stuff."

Kid: "He's scary."

Damn straight, son.

Also, while cleaning out our classroom a little as we wind down the school year, my coworker found a piece of paper. It was a note written to a former teachers who used to teach in the same classroom by a parent of a child long gone from Miniapple. It was written after a conversation the parent and child had had about Montessori Method and its history.

Here's the note verbatim:

"February 13, 2004

Tracy and Amy:

Sally is very excited about Maria Montessori history. Here are two things she has picked up from the prep she's getting for Italian Day at the end of the month:

1. When Maria Montessori died Amy took over the school. It was really hard work, but Amy understands how to do things like Maria Montessori so everything about the school is good.

2. Maria Montessori taught children to only use their hands for gentle things. Sally told me that when she goes to Meadowbrook next year the children will be throwing spitballs all the time. If she gets hit by a spitball she will tell the kid who threw it to stop. If the kid doesn't stop she will punch him. I asked Sal, "What about using gentle hands?" "Well, I won't punch him hard," she said.

Thanks for all you do for Sally. Being at Miniapple has been a wonderful experience for our whole family."

If I could just sit and talk with children all day, that'd be all I would need. Sharing laughs and animal crackers.

The Hives -- "Outsmarted"

Bugs Bunnies

I was tired. Kids were crowding around me while I was sitting on the picnic table, asking for stories. I have a cough, so I didn't feel like talking to the kids extensively. All of a sudden one of the kids screamed "WHAT IS THAT?!"

I turned, thinking it was a kid reacting to an ant on the picnic table. I saw a little creature come out from under my butt, underneath the seat of the picnic table. It looked like a pathetic rodent. Upon quick closer inspection I found out it was a baby bunny. Like pure, fresh out of the womb, baby bunny. It couldn't even walk. It looked blind. It looked scared out of its wits.

I yelled "EVERYONE STOP! DON'T MOVE!!" Of course, the kids picked up on me looking at something and ran over. The entire playground of pre-schoolers ran over to see what the matter was. I'm pretty sure the bunny was stepped on at least once due to kids running around. Another teacher became privy to the knowledge and started rounding them up away from me. I pushed the bunny back under the table asking for a bucket and some latex gloves. The bunny nestled underneath a table leg, hiding. Kids kept coming over. We were all literally screaming "STAY BACK GODDAMMIT!!!"

I dug underneath the table and pushed the bunny out carefully and picked it up and put it in one of our sandbox buckets. I then opened our playground gate, traversing a crowd of children actually reaching up and trying to steal the bucket away. The Id and Ego thing is completely true with children. There's no fucking control of impulse. Again we were screaming "KEEP YOUR HANDS AWAY!!!"

I'm pretty sure the hustle and bustle would have killed that little guy. The kids would have ripped it to shreds. I'm not kidding.

I put it in some nearby bushes, got a dish of water, cut an apple up and put everything just outside the bucket. Keeping an eye on it from the playground, I thought the ordeal was over. A kid came up to the table and said "THERE'S ANOTHER ONE!!!"

I yelled "WHAT?!" I went over, looked down, saw only gray fur. As in, disembodied fur. It looked like dust. I didn't think anything of it, thinking that's what he was talking about. I said "It's nothing!"

The kid pointed again "AHHH!! IT MOVED!!! THEY MOVED!!! LOOK AT THEM!!"

I followed his finger. More kids started screaming.

Underneath a table leg, the one I hadn't been working to push the little rabbit out from under, was a rabbit nest. Five tiny bunnies were nestled in a pile of woodchips and gray fur. They were stroking themselves, seemingly unaware of the peril traversing every which way around them. I quick got the bucket I had left in the bushes, complete with the dish and apple, and put the baby bunny back with its siblings. We rounded the kids up and put them inside, fearing for the nest's safety. The kids were still going apeshit all afternoon. The energy from the teachers wanting to protect the rabbits were being sucked into the kids, coming out in a form of complete chaos.

The thing that scared me was the fact that the first bunny, upon closer inspection, was covered in crawling bugs. Little lice looking insects crawled in and out of the fur. After dumping the bunny back with its family, I tried killing a bug that was left over. After my lice debacle last year anything resembling lice or fleas deserves to die. No questions asked. Their kind failed to gain my empathy. It jumped all over the bucket. I think it may have had wings, but I wasn't sure.

All I know is that if I get lice again right as I quit my job due to this stupid nest, I just know everyone I'm close to will say "I totally saw that one coming."





Deerhoof -- "Gore in Beans"

Hogwash

Miniapple visited a small petting farm up in Hugo, Minnesota today. It was a lacking field trip. The kids, the adults, both didn't seem to have much fun. Waste of time. For one thing it was too far away. The kids were getting restless on the school bus. Plus, one kid had the foreboding gray face of nausea on the way back. I placed a garbage bag inside her shirt, acting like a net for impending spew. Luckily, she kept it in.

The thing that made the trip noteworthy happened after we sent the kids through the pig pen. One farmer had been taking us through, and another farmer ran up to him.

"You lettin' them kiss the pigs?"

Tour guide: "Hmm? Yeah, they're kissing 'em. Huggin' 'em. Havin' a good time."

Frenzied Farmer: "Well, there's that sickness goin' around."

Tour guide: "Yeah. Yeah, there's that. We're not s'posed to let 'em kiss the piglets."

(He said this as a statement rather than a question. Really odd, as if he knew all along but chose to give my students the swine epidemic. He was obviously playing cool, trying to be the good, well composed host.)

Frenzied Farmer (looking at me): "You've heard of the sickness, right?"

Me: "Oh yeah, the swine flu. N1 something or other."

Frenzied Farmer: "You don't let them kiss the pigs now."

Me: "I was unaware of any kissing."

Frenzied Farmer: "Cuz it's not the pigs you should be afraid of. It's the kids. The kids are now the ones giving it to the pigs, the pigs spread it to more people. There was a farm up in Canada where a one and a half year old kissed the nose of a pig. Gave the swine flu to the poor little piggy."

Here's the kid he was referring to:
I'm pretty sure this kid did NOT have the swine flu. It's just a joke. Sadly, a toddler DID die of swine flu, but it was in Texas, not Canada. I just think it's funny that no one knew what the hell they were talking about or really what they were actually doing on the farm.

I wanted to tell him about the captions on the pic, but thought he wouldn't get it. This was a little too "Beverly Hillbillies" for me. Plus, I thought he might get into some apocalypse related hogwash, thinking that that kid actually did kill us all.

The Beatles -- "Piggies"

My First Test Audience

I tried a little experiment today . . .

I had the same rendered CD from the raw track listening party (more of a get-together, I guess) last night with me in the car as I drove to work. I parked and looked at the CD player. I was wondering how the kids would react to my music.

I plopped the CD out and carried it into work. At 11:00, circle time, I asked the kids if they wanted to hear the product of what I did every night when I left them to go home. With an extreme amount of enthusiasm they said "YEAH!!"

I put the CD in, and being unmastered and all, the volume was really low. The CD player could only play it so loud, so it was hard to keep their attention intact, but here's why:

I started playing "Typosgraphy". Around thirty seconds into it my voice starts up. The kids' eyes lit up. "That sounds like you, Peter," one child said. Then three quietly agreed. The song's main purpose is to surprise people into paying attention. That's actually one of the made-up meanings for the word "Typosgraphy". It was magnified in the children.

The music BLASTS into a huge wall of sound and guitars. The kids' eyes got wide, and they all started flapping their arms frantically while laughing/screaming. I had to pause the song and calm them down. Then I said "You guys wanna hear the next one?"

"YEAH!"

"Trachomanic" started up. The stop/start nature of the first verse is supposed to mimic a mechanical fly. The kids found this hilarious. Two stop/starts in the kids were rolling in laughter. I had to pause again. Wait. Then the song picked up into its main groove. The same flapping occurred. I had to halt the listening party completely in order to maintain a sense of order before lunch, or else lunch would have been a disaster of food mess, nobody eating, spills.

After nap, I brought out "In Hopes to Mend", saying I had to skip around parts because some of it was inappropriate. The beginning piano started, and one kid asked "Is that inappropriate?". Once the groove started, the kids started a dance party. Butts were shaking all over the room. I put "Switch" on, making them promise to be quiet, seated, and restrained (in kid terms). The same "Inappropriate" questioner had his eyes half-closed and was shaking his head in an almost trance, like a blind black man listening to blues on the porch humming "Mmmm-mmmm . . ." Once the end rolled around, a super intense collage of guitars, effected air raid sirens, and screams, this same kid got serious and said "Can you turn it off now?"

I asked him "Why?"

He said "Can you turn it off?" No reason. It was either too long for him to sit through, or it was mud to his ears. I think it was a bit of both.

As a child left with his parents in the evening, he said to his parents "I heard Peter on the radio!"

Oh, if only . . .

Brian Eno -- "Another Green World"

Inbox Beware

Today at work the new director's 8 year old daughter came up and said "Peter! Guess what book I have in my backpack?"

I said "What?"

"Goosebumps!"

I shit a brick. I became my ten year old self again.

"Can I read it?!" I shouted with excitement.

She said "Sure, go ahead."

The kids haven't been this excited to sit and hear a story since I used to tell Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark tales every day at their request. With Goosebumps the madness has returned. The kids actually wanted to sit through 9 chapters. That's like forty pages. It's "The Haunted Mask II", not too much of a scary subject matter. I would love to just sit and read every single Goosebumps book with them, starting from Number 1. I think I have about 40 books from when I was a little. I hope my parents haven't thrown them away.

Just to dabble into them again with attentive, freaked out kids . . . dream come true . . . let the parental complaints start falling into my inbox!!! I don't care!!







Ghost Hunter -- "In the Early Months of the Emergency"

Wireless Evolution

A definite first.

We have a new kid in the class. He was rooting through his cubby, looking for a sweater, when all of a sudden a cell phone dropped out onto the floor. I thought it was a toy. So as he tried to put on his coat (failing by putting it on upside down), I picked up the phone and pressed a button. It turned on. It was a real, working cell phone.

Now, granted, it was a Motorola piece of crap from the year 1834, but a goddamn 4 year old HAD A CELL PHONE!!! I asked "Is this yours?" He said, "Yeah, my mom gave it to me." I said "Not just for today, right? I mean, this is YOUR phone, for always." He said "Yeah, it's my own phone."

The kid has a cell phone. I was speechless. He showed me how to work the damn thing. He doesn't know how to put on a jacket but he knows how to text message!

Childhood priorities have obviously changed since my day.

Beck -- "Cellphone's Dead"

The Sandwich Crust Epidemic

At the end of work today, I was manning the toddlers in our library. A little one year old was fascinated by my flannel shirt, mainly because of the snapping buttons. He would say "Can I button?" He would try, unsuccessfully.

The thing that made me laugh, though, was when he looked at my hairy chest after pulling my buttons apart. He stopped, scrunched up his nose, and said "You're messy."

Then, apparently appalled, he left to go play with some blocks.

The Dutchess and the Duke -- "Reservoir Park"