2ndclepunkbuddha

At long last the Practicum experience came to an end as of last Thursday.  There have been many bumps in the road, much craziness, much drama, but what can one expect out of being with a bunch of 6th and 7th graders?  To say that I learned a lot is an understatement.  For one, I was placed in a city school on Fleet Avenue, on the edge of Slavic Village, in the hood, in a charter school.  This place is unique because of their approach to learning and discipline.  What they say GOES.  Iron fist.  I am the KING OF THE CASTLE as the adult in charge.  In the Elyria school, kids were obnoxious and trashy, the inmates had taken control of the asylum.  Here, the kids were disciplined and cooperative, who could ask for anything more?  One kid noticed my ID badge around my neck and asked of my first name.  I confirmed that it was, in fact, my first name.  He quickly said back "Oh, I would never call you by your first name! Respect."...

An example of what he could do. 

Eclipsed by my jaunt to Detroit this weekend, I wanted to say a few words about a rare gem that we lost a few days ago, Ted Flynn.  Ted was known among the scene for his eccentricities in a scene full of eccentric people.  His sense of humor was beyond anything I had ever encountered, and could turn even the most angry or depressed into fits of laughter.  He played in many an independent project in the Speak In Tongues days as one of the primary members of the collective.  Never a two were the same, the only one who was able to pull of an electric jug band and still smile while doing it.  He lived among the clutter, quite literally.  Most of the stuff he owned he pulled out of the garbage.  On one's luckiest day they were not able to find some of the rarities that he found, from an obscure 45 to a perfectly functional computer to most of his wardrobe.  It was during the early 2000s that he and I were closest.  Many a time he would call in t...

I have had much time and energy to think about my upcoming 20th high school reunion.  Much has cluttered in my brain here and there about what will and won't happen between now and then.  I put on an exterior to others that I am hard as a rock, fearless and invulnerable.  And yet, the thought of having to once again be around the gals I spent my awkward adolescence with can shake me to the core.  Still, I have chosen to do this and I am going with a positive attitude.  A part of me thinking that part of being an adult means that I don't have to do things like this if I didn't want to.  Sometimes my stomach would literally churn and burn with the thought of having to face some of the skank whore bitches again and the rest of them who, like me, were forced into a rather awkward boxed corner of lonerdom and grinding of teeth.  Only people who are wildly successful end up going to those events, and I'm not one of those wildly successful people.  ...

Earlier today I was looking for something.  I have noticed my bookshelves seem to be kind of organized in vertical segregation : the more important the books and things are, the higher they are located on the shelves.  On the shelves closest to the floor, I have a bunch of randomly stacked old notebooks, papers and paperback books crammed into crannies.  For whatever reason I decided to look through the old notebooks to check their contents.  They were mostly from recent classes like Western Civ I (extensive notes on the Holy Roman Empires), random scribblings that I tend to make when bored during my observation times (methods, as it's called) at a city school on the near West side.  Loose papers had been crammed in between the attached notebook papers, which I investigated.  Syllabuses, old tests, a To Do list I put down for errands one day.  And then something else.  Isn't it hilarious?  Something not that old, but seeming to be now for a v...