Count the Dots!

I’ll be nice, and not name names, but there was a time, when I taught at another school, when I had in-school suspension for half a day, every school day, for an entire semester. It sucked.

There was a senior in this high-school version of, well, jail, who was working on Geometry homework. I was trying to help him — and to get him to think for himself. (I’m always trying crazy stuff like that.)

To do the problem he was working on, he had to know what three times eight equals. He was 18, or perhaps 19, and a senior. I was not willing to simply tell him the product of three and eight, because . . . that’s just ridiculous.

I told him to draw a row of eight dots on his paper. He did. I told him to draw another such row beside the first row. He did. I told him, finally, to add a third row. He did, and gave me an utterly blank look.

I said, “Now count the dots.” He did.

Image

Even though he got the correct answer, he was still furious at me for, well, possibly the rest of his life, which may or may not still be going on. We haven’t kept in touch.

On “Mediocracy”

I have actually heard two different high school principals say, to assembled students in one case, and a faculty meeting in the other, that “mediocracy” was not acceptable, nor what we should want as a school, from our students, blah blah blah.  Use a non-word like that, and you’ve lost me as a listener, possibly permanently.

Clearly, the fact that two different principals (neither at my current school, by the way) in central Arkansas did this same SNAFU means it is likely that someone nearby is teaching this to people, spreading the idea to replace “mediocrity” (a perfectly good word) with “mediocracy.” They’re probably doing this at a nearby teacher school, er, I mean, “College of Education.”

This got me wondering about possible definitions for “mediocracy.”  One comes to mind very quickly, and that is a system of government:  rule by the mediocre.

Oh, wait, we have that already, and have had it for as long as I can remember.  I guess we are willing to accept mediocracy, at the federal, state, and local levels, and in all branches of government.

Sigh.

The Best Way to Lose a Spelling Bee

bee

In 4th grade, I finished in second place in my school district’s spelling bee. This makes a much better story than winning, because of the word I could not spell correctly. That word was obeid (crap) obiedi (grrrr) obedei (blast it) obeedient that word that means you do as you are told.

My mother’s reaction was great:  “Of course he couldn’t spell it! He doesn’t know what that word means!”

¿Es usted normal?

It took some time for me to figure out that things are seriously screwed up. One of the early indicators involved this question, and the reaction to my answer to it, which was asked to me in Spanish class, 7th grade.

The exercise was simple. A list of adjectives appeared in the textbook, and we were going down the row, with the teacher asking each student, in turn, “Are you [adjective]?” in Spanish, and then the student answering, also in Spanish. Previous students had declared whether they were or were not tall, funny, popular, etc. It didn’t take long to figure out the pattern, and that I would soon be asked, yes or no, if the word “normal” described me.

I didn’t have any trouble with the question itself — the answer seemed quite self-evident — but I did want my translation to be ready. And so, it was.

My turn. “¿Roberto, es usted normal?

My instantaneous reply:  “No, yo no soy normal.”

I wasn’t particularly paying attention to the other students up until this point, but this changed quickly, amidst the hysterical laughter which ensued, with things like “You aren’t normal?” being shrieked, with glee, above the general hilarity. Another such comment I remember: “Well, what are you, then?”

I knew damn well I wasn’t like any of them, nor did I want to be. The drive to fit in, be one with the crowd, conform — however you want to put it — has always been missing from my personality. What’s more, I’m delighted that it is. I’m not a slave to the opinions of others. I’m not normal now, any more than I was in 7th grade.

To me, “normal” implies the following:  typical, ordinary, average, and boring.  If I had nothing different about me — no “abnormal” traits — then what would be the point of my existence in the first place?

I was genuinely surprised by this in the 7th grade. It doesn’t surprise me any more when things like this happen, having had decades to get used to the “normality police,” who seem to be everywhere. This experience, way back in the 7th grade, was eye-opening for me.

So, over 30 years later:  no, yo no soy normal. Nor will I ever be. What’s more, I still don’t understand why anyone else, then or now, would want to apply the word “normal” to themselves. This is a mystery I doubt I will ever solve, for I do not even come close to understanding it.