The Mad Dash

"What are my chances of passing?", she asks with the look of fear in her blue eye shadow. I stifle the urge to say something quirky or even laugh, "You'll do great". The standard reply to a middle schooler in despair.

Fact is, she and many of her peers will probably do fine, or great. However, there are a handful that might not pass the rigorous portfolio presentations today. I'm surrounded by the full spectrum of ninos. The air pushes down on the shoulders of us basement dwelling learners, and segments of various songs escape the headphones scattered about the room. Music helps them relax. That and the ridiculous jokes that spew from my mouth. Any laughter helps, whether directed at the punchlines or myself.

Myself, I feel the tension, but also excitement. Seeing what these young'ins are capable of brings a feeling of joy. A majority of society sees one of these kids on the sidewalk after school and thinks about what graffitti scribbling, drug smoking, up-to-no-good deeds will be done by the punks. But they're human, and sometimes more in tune with what's just and fair than many of the adults in their lives. That's what makes days like this worthwhile, even the kids that struggle today will have accomplished more than many of those adults driving by.

I guess they have to earn their summer vacations one way or another...

Fortune Cookies Never Lie

Time is flying past like a family of spooked quail. Only a few days remain in the school year, friends are getting hitched, and vacations are a few short transits away. Last week I felt the pressure of all these tasks like a burden upon my shoulders. Today however, I'm encompassing all that finds itself upon the to-do list, because it can't be that bad.

Part of my recent paradigm shift comes from a fortune cookie. Yes, it can be that simple. However, it wasn't so much the fortune as it was the context in which the fortune was read.

Plagued by homework and projects around the house, last Thursday after school I was a mess. Despite my obvious apathy for the rest of the world, Emery wanted to hang out with me and not just some guy in the same room locked to a computer. So, as we occasionally do in times of desperation, we went out to eat. After deciding on Panda Express for all our quick but not as deceptively unhealthy food needs, I relaxed and took a break from the stresses of life. It worked, and by the time I had chowed down on some chow mein, my mental clarity was returning. Emery is such a great person to have in my life, and quite the dinning partner too. When we broke into our fortune cookies, I enjoyed how the words rolled off the tongue and into our laughter. "Saturday is a good day for completing chores", mine stated with a sense of sarcasm.

After that wonderful evening and learning how to laugh away some of the stress I'm facing, Emery and I enjoyed one of the most productive yet relaxing weekends together in quite a while. Amazing how your fortune cookies are usually right, but it's up to the reader to interpret it correctly.

=)

by the way.....

Happy Mother's Day!

Matt Foley is my friend

Planning, not my forte. I would rather wing it and look cool and spontaneous than put the effort into planning. This idea works well when first dating someone, traveling the globe, or channel surfing. However, I no longer do two of the three, and going to work is far from traveling the globe. So when I conjure up a last minute lesson plan for class, it shows.

I can see the confusion in my students' faces. I sense my heart palpatating with every word that struggles from my lips. Then, so as not to look like I'm unprepared, I tell the kids that I told them this last week but they must not have been listening. Hey, it works most of the time.

I thought about implementing the perpetual plan B for tomorrow as well, but then an apiration of a fat guy in a suit and glasses landed on my coffee table. Yes, it was none other than Matt Foley: Motivational Speaker Etrodinaire.

I'm not sure why, but the quick comedy sketch on SNL about an animated motivational speaker that even a crack addict couldn't look up to seems to do the trick. Maybe I feel that my apathy towards planning could lead to my students becoming the next generation of Foleys. Or worse, I'm halfway there! Either way, here's to my motivation and the other zaney Chris who died before his time.

Cinco de Meandering

Astounding as it may seem, I took the day off. It was a school holiday in actuality, so I don't mean I took the day off as in 'fake a sore throat and call in sick using my best Oscar the Grouch voice'. Usually my brain interprets a day off from my job as extra time to work on homework or projects around the house. But today was a break from all of that, even though I did complete a few task at home.

The morning was blissfully smooth. I dropped Emery off at work, then headed home to get started with my to-do list. Carry concrete from backyard to front. Done. Carry asobe bricks from front yard to back. Somewhat done. Then I realized, I hadn't even had breakfast.

After that, I lost interest in moving rocks back and forth, so I went shopping. I get lost in Home Depot, something about the space-time continuum is warped amidst those aisles. So instead I headed for the Ace hardware down the street. Upon entering I'm reminded that today is Cinco de Mayo by the cashier. Maybe I should be next door buying Corona? I had a mental list of items when I entered, but it's gone now. Maybe this aisle. Maybe the next. No, maybe the last one. Why am I here? Gloves, yes those were on the list. After the fifth employee asks me if I need help, I realize I've been here for over an hour.

Then I returned home and meandered around the house. What tasks can I do inside since the sun outside seems tortuous? I need to take the day off from working. Ah Ha! I'll play with bikes!

A few bites of lunch and bike tunings later, I'm bored. If I don't work on stuff, what do I do all alone here at home? I miss Emery. She calls. I'm so excited to pick her up. Once she's home we enjoy hanging out and being together. I guess only the morning was Cinco de Meandering, and this evening was a true day off.

Too bad I still have to work tomorrow. At least theres next weekend!

My friend informed me of this amazing video. These guys have either balls of steel or too much brain trauma!

Church... of Sorts

Another early morning, brisk air saturates my skin as I walk out the front door. Fill watering can, provide plants a drink, repeat. But today is different, I'm in no hurry as the sun separates from the horizon. It's Sunday.

I grew up in a fairly Christian home, but going to church every week proved mundane for me. Something about sitting on a hard wood pew surrounded by judgmental elderly women was far from appealing. But nowdays, I loosely consider myself an adult; free of most family expectations.

As I push my bike out onto the porch, I grab a sweatshirt this time. "Isn't it supposed to be hot today?", I ask the mechanical wonder in my hands. I enjoy the whispering breeze, chatty birds, and gentle clanking of tools making adjustments that are little more than meaningless.

What will the trails hold in store for me today? A smooth descent, a clean climb, or a rock to the spokes? Either way, whenever Adam shows up I'll be ready to roll.

This always happens. Adam is here and I'm still floundering. I can find no fewer than 3 gloves, but all the left hand. Water, check. Helmet, check. Camera, check. Emery and June are enjoying a play date, so we're off.

Adam turns up the tunes and pilots the Forester through traffic. We talk about how we should really be riding up the road to trail, but we both know we would rather not. Park, load up, head out. Tucson Mountain Park has the usual weekend visitors; hikers, bikers, and golfers that can't shoot straight.

I clean the first climb, a new experience for this pedal pusher. Adam trades me bikes at the top, and I reaffirm my faith in the Slayer after the descent. His red and shiny Yakuza felt too sluggish, yet supple.


We hike-a-bike through newly found trail. Potential, but rough as is. Next up is Hooligan's Hollow. Nothing like the smell of brakes in the morning! One can navigate the downs on this trail quickly if they have little regard for bodily injury. I prefer to ride the fence rather than my face down this one. Brake. Charge. Brake. Turn. Brake. Charge. Climb. Charge. Jump. Brake. Brake. Brake! Then you ride out the wash to jackhammer trail past overly perfumed hikers. Road back to car.



Adam descends Hooligan's
















Repeat this ritual as needed for mental clarity, sense of belonging in the world, or amazement. I don't foresee any indoor church experiences in my future, particularly when a cross is involved.