Jar Wars Video
Friday, September 28, 2007
Jar Wars
For the past three years I have organized a fund raiser. The idea for the fund raiser was taken from my high school. On an annual basis, our school would anticipate the arrival of Jar Wars. The details of the event were kept a secret for most of the year. There were periodic announcements on the school television station, but these commercials were cryptic and kept the underclassmen in the dark.
The Jar Wars fund raiser was created by Mr. Carmen Gumina. His enthusiasm for the project was contagious. He was a Biology teacher at Webster High School and is currently serving as a Principal in the same school district. When I became a teacher I reflected on my high school experience and thought about what had made it a truly unique experience. The one event that I looked forward to each year was the Jar Wars fund raiser. As I began my own career on the west coast of Florida, I hoped to start a similar event for my students.
Monday will kick off the competition. This year we are raising money for the Achilles Track Club, a local organization that encourages people with disabilities to participate in athletics. We hope to beat the total from last year which was over $2,800. There are no administrative costs; all money will go directly to the charity. All prizes that are given to the winning team have been donated from our community.
To follow in the footsteps of Mr. Gumina, I have put my dignity on the line and offer up my hair as a reward to the students. Should they raise more than $3,000 this year, I will shave my head on the morning news. This morning was the culmination of a advertising contest for Jar Wars. The students who designed the most creative advertisements won a small prize and were invited to come on the morning announcements and smash a pie in my face. The odor of curdled whipped cream is still in my nose, but hopefully it will make the smell of a successful fund raiser that much sweeter.
Monday, September 10, 2007
St. Augustine
I had the opportunity to travel to the Oldest City in the United States last weekend. As a History teacher, one would assume that I had a great time reading placards on monuments and visiting museums. For those of you who do not know, St. Augustine was first "discovered" by Spanish explorer Ponce De Leon. He was looking for the fabled Fountain of Youth, but all he ended up finding was a bunch of sulfur water and some Calusa Indians. While there was no Fountain of Youth, De Leon did realize that St. Augustine would be a great place to set up some gift shops and wax museums, so he claimed the land for Spain.
Now, I must admit that I had a good time in St. Augustine. There was plenty to see and do and overall it was a fun weekend. As a pseudo-historian, however, I did not come away from the weekend feeling like I had just spent the weekend in the Oldest City in the country. The town itself is beautiful, however, the people that now occupy St. Augustine seem hell-bent on exploiting the tourists who now come to visit the town. The prices that were charged for admission were outrageous for even the most mundane of attractions. While paying 5 dollars to a historical society for their upkeep of a monument is palatable, forking over 10+ dollars to see a cheap re-creation of Ponce De Leon drinking from a pool of water should be considered a crime.
The majority of the attractions in St. Augustine where basically tourist traps that exploited historic events. The best [i.e. worst] of these tourist traps was the "Fountain of Youth Experience." The center-piece of this attraction was a 20 foot illuminated plastic globe. The recorded narrator described how Ponce De Leon traveled the earth while a docent used a laser pointer to highlight his route. I stared in amazement and pondered if this was really happening. Around me there were families staring blankly with moronic grins on their faces nodding in wonderment at this massive globe. The fountain of youth experience unfortunately went downhill from there. It is a good thing that Ponce De Leon did not find the fountain of youth because he would have been utterly disappointed if he had the chance to visit the "Fountain of Youth Experience."
On the whole the weekend was not a wash because I did learn one fun fact. It turns out that the average height of a Spaniard during the 1500s was only 4'5". Ponce De Leon was a towering 4'11". The average life span was also only 40 years old for the Spanish male. Ponce had heard rumors of a tribe of Native Americans living in South Florida who were over 6' tall and who lived well into their 80s. They were the Calusa Indians and it was because of their massive height and old age that Ponce De Leon had assumed that there was a "Fountain of Youth" somewhere in Florida. Apparently the geriatrics of the country have also heard this rumor, because Florida still abounds with retirees seeking to prolong their lives and to make the roads unsafe for all of us youngsters.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Teaching is like a Marathon
For the past two months I have devoted at least 25 hours a week to training for the NYC Marathon. For the months of September and October that number will rise to close to 35 hours a week. That will make my training comparable to having a second full time job. During these runs I am usually accompanied by friends with whom I discuss current events and ways to become a better educator. Tonight I went out for a speed workout by myself and began to think about how my career is similar to the race that I will run this November.
The first day of school begins with a stomach full of butterflies. As the gun goes off we shuffle uncertainly through the hazy morning. The first day feels vaguely familiar, similar to all those training runs that helped build up muscle memory, yet it will certainly be unique. It is usually nothing like the way they described it in the summer trainings or during all that planning and prep time. I see a blur of faces, some familiar but many new. Like the first few miles of the race my adrenaline will carry me. I pass smiling faces and hear words of encouragement and just like the weeks of the school year, the miles start to fly past.
The first moment of reflection comes at the end of the first marking period. By this time routines have been established, small aches and pains have been worked out and I have finally hit my stride. There is still a long school year left but I feel strong both physically and mentally and I know that all the training, planning and prep time has paid off.
I wish the midpoint of the race felt like the climber who has reached the apex of a mountain, as he knows that it is all downhill from that point. Unfortunately the hardest part of both a Marathon and the school year come toward the end of the year. As we return from winter break, the dreaded FCAT crunch begins and fatigue will quickly follow it. I know that I am more than halfway done and I feel physically able, however, the second 13 miles of the race seem exponentially longer. By mile 15 my body begins to show signs of deterioration. My classroom and the school around me begin to display similar signs of stress.
The hardest part of the race comes at mile 23. The invisible wall that many encounter can leave students paralyzed with fear as they face down their Scantron as well as the Marathoner dehydrated, cramped and bleeding on the side of a course. To make it through the last three miles of the school year takes guts, determination and at times the help of those around you. The last three miles of the marathon may as well be a million to the under prepared, and quitting seems like the only rational decision. A runner who skimped out on training would feel like they were looking in a mirror if they happened upon a teenager who has capitulated as he or she Christmas Trees a bubble sheet.
For many it will come suddenly and when all hope seems to have been lost. The finish line somehow becomes something tangible. It is concrete. It is not longer something that you could only visualize. There it is. It is still over a mile away but the streets are lined with encouragement. The school suddenly becomes electrified with energy. We almost made it. The countdowns become shorter and you can just make out the race clock. Like the start of the race your feet suddenly become swift as the lead somehow sublimates from your body. Positive thoughts reenter your body and as waves of emotions pass over you are somehow crossing the finish line, signing yearbooks, speaking at ceremonies and posing for pictures, shaking hands and giving high-fives. You receive congratulations on a job well done, the hard work paid off, and a myriad other descriptions of what a difficult task you just accomplished.
As the euphoria fades and life returns back to normal you reflect and make some notes on what you will do different the next time around. The experience will drive many to never return again, but those who are dedicated will learn from prior mistakes and come back year after year stronger, more able, and with wisdom of past experiences.
The first day of school begins with a stomach full of butterflies. As the gun goes off we shuffle uncertainly through the hazy morning. The first day feels vaguely familiar, similar to all those training runs that helped build up muscle memory, yet it will certainly be unique. It is usually nothing like the way they described it in the summer trainings or during all that planning and prep time. I see a blur of faces, some familiar but many new. Like the first few miles of the race my adrenaline will carry me. I pass smiling faces and hear words of encouragement and just like the weeks of the school year, the miles start to fly past.
The first moment of reflection comes at the end of the first marking period. By this time routines have been established, small aches and pains have been worked out and I have finally hit my stride. There is still a long school year left but I feel strong both physically and mentally and I know that all the training, planning and prep time has paid off.
I wish the midpoint of the race felt like the climber who has reached the apex of a mountain, as he knows that it is all downhill from that point. Unfortunately the hardest part of both a Marathon and the school year come toward the end of the year. As we return from winter break, the dreaded FCAT crunch begins and fatigue will quickly follow it. I know that I am more than halfway done and I feel physically able, however, the second 13 miles of the race seem exponentially longer. By mile 15 my body begins to show signs of deterioration. My classroom and the school around me begin to display similar signs of stress.
The hardest part of the race comes at mile 23. The invisible wall that many encounter can leave students paralyzed with fear as they face down their Scantron as well as the Marathoner dehydrated, cramped and bleeding on the side of a course. To make it through the last three miles of the school year takes guts, determination and at times the help of those around you. The last three miles of the marathon may as well be a million to the under prepared, and quitting seems like the only rational decision. A runner who skimped out on training would feel like they were looking in a mirror if they happened upon a teenager who has capitulated as he or she Christmas Trees a bubble sheet.
For many it will come suddenly and when all hope seems to have been lost. The finish line somehow becomes something tangible. It is concrete. It is not longer something that you could only visualize. There it is. It is still over a mile away but the streets are lined with encouragement. The school suddenly becomes electrified with energy. We almost made it. The countdowns become shorter and you can just make out the race clock. Like the start of the race your feet suddenly become swift as the lead somehow sublimates from your body. Positive thoughts reenter your body and as waves of emotions pass over you are somehow crossing the finish line, signing yearbooks, speaking at ceremonies and posing for pictures, shaking hands and giving high-fives. You receive congratulations on a job well done, the hard work paid off, and a myriad other descriptions of what a difficult task you just accomplished.
As the euphoria fades and life returns back to normal you reflect and make some notes on what you will do different the next time around. The experience will drive many to never return again, but those who are dedicated will learn from prior mistakes and come back year after year stronger, more able, and with wisdom of past experiences.
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