5-5-5

The challenge: From your Pictures, take the the fifth picture from the fifth file, post it, and write about it. Then you tag five people to do the same. I'm not going to bother to tag anyone; at times I'm not sure if there are five people who read this. I accepted Kel's general challenge, and I will pass it on. If you are reading this and you feel like doing it, go right on ahead. It turns out to be a silly one for me:



I'm not sure this qualifies as a picture, but it was the fifth item in my fifth folder. The image is a gif of the Gundam Heavy Arms from Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz. It is probably my favorite Gundam of all time (Gundams are a Mobile Suit, ie., a big machine piloted by a human who sits in the chest cavity). There are Gundam models, action figures, t-shirts, and multiple series of cartoons from around 1979 (making it the longest running mecha-type anime that I am familiar with). Some people can't abide it, but fortunately I am not one of those.

R.

Class Divisions

They are very interesting, these non-real life microcosms that are our classrooms. Yesterday I taught Algebra. Or I suppose I should say that I babysat a room full of kids that were supposed to be doing Algebra assignments given by their regular teacher. Throughout the day I noticed that there were students that would get the work done, students that would play around with it like my three-year-old does his dinner, and students that would not even take out their writing utensils. This last group would tell me that they couldn't do the assignment because they didn't know what to do.

Sometimes I would know, sometimes I would not; I am a writer and historian, after all, not a mathematician. It has been over eight years since I squeaked through College Algebra with just high enough marks to have it transfer when I moved and switched schools. Whatever.

For the last class of the day, it was not knowing most often. So when one of the kids who tore through the assignment finished I asked him to help some of the students who were having trouble. This is what he did, no kidding: studiously avoiding those who had not deigned to whip out their pencils, he went to all of the kids that were playing with the assignment and asked if they needed help, then helped or moved on as their response warranted.

I could speculate on and on about how and why this happened, but instead I will merely leave my observation here for your consideration.

R.

Uh-oh, It's Magic

I find that there are almost as many songs with magic as there are fantasy novels with lame magic. Like bad fantasy magic, I grew weary of sifting through lame songs to make this playlist for your listening pleasure. Feel free to skip as you please.

Yesterday I was substituting at a remedial high school, one where everyone there lives in a group home for various reasons and where a few are at about the same reading/writing/counting level as my five-year old. In between doing my best to help those that were willing to accept it an idea hit me that had me wanting to yodel like the freak in Hocus Pocus.

I'm not sure whether I'm elated or horrified, but with sudden clarity I saw a magic system that would meet most all of my overly-critical magic requirements: it would not be a regurgitation of some better (or at least more successful) author's system; it would be grounded in science; it would create more problems than it ever solves for the user. Now I must rework my world to accommodate this new development. It is bittersweet; it will be more work, but it should make the story more marketable. Or something like that.

R.

So Tired

Tired of opening my browser to Gilly's face. I submit my humble apology to my readers for the many times they (potentially) came here only to find the face of Gilly still at the top. I will write some good posts soon to make up for it. In the mean time I will give you a few random thoughts as is my default when my brain doesn't feel up to writing the post I actually want to write.

Skinny Pants - Substitute teaching has brought me face to face with style. All I can say is skinny pants look bad on girls. They look worse on boys.

Recession - Seeing all those kids decked out in their matching trendy clothes makes me grateful to be a home-schooler. I couldn't afford to send my kids to public school. I'm sure there is a connection between that and our economic crisis.

No Student Left Behind - Except for the ones who are left behind.

If you are reading this, thank you for stopping by in spite of my absence and the looming presence of Gilly.

R.