Amish You a Merry Christmas

Just when you think the miracle of Christmas is a holey old joke of a sock- You go to Wisconsin and everything changes.

I live in California. And I love it. But the only other place I would consider living in this world is Wisconsin. Imagine my ultimate joy when I found out that my small clan and I would be celebrating the birth of C in an unincorporated village on the snow filled plains of Wisconsin this year. Yahtzee!

On Christmas day, my family piled into my father's beloved mini van and off we drove to my cousins house- All very "Over the river and through the woods." Amidst explaining to my other cousin the Oakland slang, "Doin too much," my dad drove off the road and into a ditch. Whether he was "doin too much" or "not enough" is still up for debate.

The family squawked about for a minute or two, complaining of cold, making jokes and generally being useless when a little blue light from the distance started bobbing towards us. It was The Amish. Or An Amish. A man with a very long beard. As he chatted with the other Men, another Amish came by. In a horse drawn buggy. A voice from it shouted, "I would help but cars are ugly!"

Mokay. I didn't know the Amish were so feisty. Feisty and efficient. Within 5 minutes the bobbing blue light man came back to us with a small metal wagon sleigh thing attached to a pair of enormous horses. As fast as you could say, "Amish you a Merry Christmas!" the Amish tied a chain from the van to the wagon, cried yehaw; his mighty horses plucking the van from its snowy resting place- then disappeared back into the barn from whence they came.

A country Christmas Miracle. I was thrilled, my faith (in horses) restored, my hands numb from clapping in 30 degree weather. We hopped back into the van to the aroma of Roast Beast and exulted. The Amish are doin just right and yes, cars are ugly.

Don't Forget to Love Yourself

My students and I wrote this song.


I love myself,
I am very attractive,
Everything I do
is super duper positive.

I'm nice,
I'm cool,
I'm good,
I'm a rockstar.

Bet ya didn't know
I live on Planet Ma-ars.
I'm an alien shark
with High Self-Esteem,
I'm so cool
I'm on the Ice Cream Team.

School is Bomb!

The high school drop out rate is on the rise. There are a lot of scary statistics out there saying so. The worst kind of statistics. The kind you won't really think about until the day America loses the Battle of the Universe to Lithuania and we are all wearing McDonalds French Fry cups for mittens. Everyone will want to know- How did we lose to Lithuania?

A failing and progressively ineffective public education system will be the answer. Well, one of them at least.

If it's not the fact that public ed is still stuck in a education model that was made in the industrial era- prioritizing skills more useful in the factory than in the innovation of the global market- it will be a sheer numbers game.

There won't be enough people to fight for American freedom because not enough people will be able to have the freedom of a High School diploma *. Without a diploma * you can't join the military. Without military power, you lose the Battle of the Universe. Tic Toc. Tic Toc.

As I was driving to school the other day I heard a wonderful commercial on the radio urging young people to go back to school! Ernest and free flowing voices of urban youth spoke of their teenage parenthood, incarcerations, and homelessness. Education they claimed, was their only option for success. Of course, I was tearing up, passionately nodding my head and gripping the steering wheel in fierce agreement. When they finished, "This announcement is sponsored by the United States Army."

It reminded me of a speech Arne Duncan, Secretary of Education, gave wherein he stated, "75 percent of young Americans, between the ages of 17 to 24, are unable to enlist in the military today because they have failed to graduate from high school, have a criminal record *, or are physically unfit."

75%. Great for an outlet mall. Terrible for the United States. Now, I'm not an alarmist, NRA member, war monger or any other such proponent of bombs, violence, or the killing of innocent babies, but like it or not, the military is necessary for National Security. We want it strong for various reasons. Plus, it's been helpful for things like stopping Hitler and keeping out terrorists.......oh wait, nevermind.

Should the Battle of the Universe take place in an era low on high school graduates, American military will be understaffed, ill-prepared, and the rest of us could be at risk for an unwelcomed draft.

Dramatic? Yes. Lose sleep? Not just yet. Another reason why Public ed is in crisis and needs a massive overhaul? HU-RAH!

You Know Your Cat Is Your Best Friend...

When you file into the bathroom together, go to your respective receptacles and share a morning pee with each other. Everyday.

Best Guests

I just had four friends from Chicago short noticedly stay at my house this past week. At first I was a little, "Ah shit, What did I agree to?" But then became obsessed with finding the perfect cat litter.

The first night we hung out they bought me dinner.

The second day we hung out- they allowed me to take them surfing. Aka- I got to go surfing on a weekday- aka their vacation became my vacation.

They stuck Harold and Kumar into the DVD player while cooking a delicious meal and made me a vodka soda with lime.

They cleaned my kitchen leaving it in better shape than when they arrived.

They invited me to Napa to drink more vodka sodas with lime, eat more delicious food- we're talkin fresh oysters from the seaside, insisted we go wine tasting, and supported my decision to buy apple flavored Licorice.

Really the Award goes out to couch surfers who know how to treat couch owners. God bless ya!

Why is my ear hecka wobbly?

Yesterday, as I was lining my students up from recess, I heard a horrified yelp from the back of the line. I looked back into the small face of my newest student,let's call him Jorge - Fernando, yelling in a panic "WHY IS MY EAR HECKA WOBBLY!?!"

I let him touch my ear to assure him that everyones ears are hecka wobbly. He then started to squeeze his ear into a pair of lips and began talking to me. "My ear is talking," he said and filed into the classroom.

This is why I love my job.

Robin Williams, You Have It All

When making my Top 5 Most Perfect Movies list I considered the movie Hook. But then I watched it on the USA channel at my parent’s house in Minnesota for the 8 millionth time. And you know - as much as Dustin Hoffman virtually disappears as an actor in his genius depiction of a poetic yet bumbling drama queen of a Captain Hook and that infamous imaginary food fight has lead me to experiment with food coloring on mash potatoes and scour the earth for a glass of BoBo- the movie is kind of annoying. I really hated Peter Banning’s sappy 10 year old son crybabying over how his dad never watches him play baseball and that weirdo scene where Julia Roberts turns into a life size princess Tinkerbell and tries to get into Robin Williams' pants. Of course RU-FI-OOOO was a 1991 wet dream and a half and the lost boys were a charming amalgamation of thoughtful raggamuffinry, but all in all, Hook was far from perfection. It is, HOWEVER, a pretty darn good Robin Williams flick.

Robin, Robin, Robin. So many movies. So many Laughs. So many tears. Love him or hate him- the dude has skillz. Therefore I came up with the best and worst of Robin William’s oeurve. Note: Half the movies on the Goddawful list I have not seen but am fully confident in their excruciating dreadfullness based on trailers and general life experience.

Top 10 Most Brilliant Robin Williams Movies

1.) Ms. Doubtfire
2.) Aladdin
3.) The Birdcage
4.) Death to Smoochy
5.) Deconstructing Harry
6.) Dead Poets Society
7.) Hook
8.) The Word According to Garp
9.) Good Will Hunting
10.) Patch Adams

Top 10 Most Goddawful Robin Williams Movies

1.) August Rush
2.) The Adventures of Baron Munchausen
3.) Night At the Museum 1 and 2
4.) License to Wed
5.) Jumanji
6.) One Hour Photo
7.) Old Dogs
8.) Fern Gully
9.) Insomnia
10.) Patch Adams

I’m not gunna lie- I fricken love RW. He’s a nutjob and I wish we were roommates. We’d sit around drinking absinthe all day doing character monologues back and forth until we woke up the next morning singing “You Never Had A Friend Like Me” while washing the dishes. Oh, What Dreams May Come!

Top 5 Most Perfect Movies

Perfect? What on earth could that mean? The idea of the perfect movie first occurred to me several months ago when I attended a Movie in the Park extravaganza in San Francisco. The feature was…dun dun duuuun…Back to the Future. A park filled with an urban gathering of the Mcfly generation was, as expected, the best possible way to see Back to the Future for the 15th time and despite the fact that I was sitting on some random pipe in the ground and some exhibitionist couple were violently sucking face two inches in front of me, I had a marvelous time.

I left thinking, “What a perfect movie!” Every single minute mattered, entertained, and delighted. From Crispin Glover, Michael J Fox, and Leah Thompson to Christopher Lloyd RIP- (Wait, did he die?) the acting was SPOT ON. Even Einstein the dog was on point. The details were impeccable- Anyone remember the ululating Libyan terrorists? THE POWER OF LOVE!? I could go on.

What I decided makes a perfect movie are the following elements:

A.) Not a minute is wasted on superfluous scenes intended to showcase the leading actor’s talent (or lack thereof), extraneous plot developments, or overdramatized landscape panning.
B.) Each actor owned their role in a way that nobody else could.
C.) The soundtrack enhances the concept of the film without becoming the centerpiece of its momentum.
D.) The plot is seamless with scenes that are coherent but not overly predictable.
E.) Every time you watch the movie, you notice some new detail that’s extremely funny, telling, or well...perfect.

Enough reasoning. Here is my Top 5 Most Perfect Movie List:

1.) Ferris Bueller’s Day off
2.) Back To the Future
3.) The Sandlot
4.) The Fugitive
5.) Close tie between Ace Ventura Pet Detective and Dumb and Dumber

Clearly, I am a product of the Mcfly Generation. Feel free to add or debate this list with your own experiences in Perfect Cinema. Goodnight and Good Luck.

Helium Article # 1

In my wisdom teeth removal recovery period I have joined a website called Helium.com. It's some kind of information sharing self-publishing article generator thing. It provides article topic titles and you go nuts writing away.

Today I chose the topic: Online Dating Mistakes Men Need to Avoid

Here it is:

As someone who treated online dating like a sport for about 5 months and went on at least 40 dates, I consider myself an expert on the online dating mistakes of men. Here are the top five things men should consider as they enter the ether world of love:

1.) How accurate are your pictures?

The very last date I went on and the reason why I quit online dating was because my date grossly misrepresented himself in his online pictures. Not only was he overweight, beady eyed, and poorly dressed, but he had a terrible personality to boot. Now if you are an overweight, beady eyed, poorly dressed man with a terrible personality, please present yourself that way. If you find a lady that’s into that sort of thing, you will know it’s real. Sell yourself in any other way and you’ll be wasting your time and money on a woman who will turn you into a cautionary online dating tale faster than you can say McMuffin Breath.

2.) Do you need a therapist more than you need a girlfriend?

At least 30% of the dates I went on were pro bono therapy sessions wherein I reassured, understood, rationalized, and talked down the saddest men in the world. Yes. Life is hard. But it’s a lot harder to find a hot girl that gives a hoot about your bummed out sack of broken dreams…on the first date.

3.) Are you as funny in real life as you are on paper?

How many times did I LOL when reading a potential suitors profile? SO MANY! How many times did I LOL in a face to face? Not at all. Never. Nope. I even had a guy ADMIT that he is funnier on paper. Most women don’t date paper, so step up your face game or chill out on the Mr. Witty profile man.

4.) Eager Beaver?

I know its super exciting to be out with a fantastic lady with a cool phone, but really try not to make 5 future plans with her after ten minutes of waiting for the first drink to kick in. If you think she’s the cat’s pajamas and all you want to do is touch her arm, take three deep breaths and try to hold out for the next 15 or so minutes to pass. If you have to touch her, be subtle: No weirdo hand on the lower back. If you need to tell her she’s pretty make a comment about her necklace. Do not go overboard on the compliments and please, whatever you do: hide your boner at all costs.

5.) Open up.

Number one most obnoxious thing a guy can do on a date is be a total dud. We ladies would much rather have a horror story than no story at all. I once went on a date with a guy who had just gotten back from a trip to Brazil. I thought, “Great we’ll have so much to talk about! Traveling, cultural/social observations, bachelor party shenanigans, ocean creatures!” Imagine my disappointment when all the guy could squeeze out of his Brazilian excursion was that he ate a lot of beef and went rock climbing once. I also found out that his job involves a lot of paper shuffling and that he works out until 9 o’clock three days a week. Womp Womp. The ability to elaborate is key to keeping an intelligent woman’s attention. It gives us more fodder with which to psychoanalyze you and subsequently decide if we want to see you naked or not. There’s a fine line between sexy mystery man (only exists in foreign movies), and short-answer bad conversation dude (all too common). Try not to be the latter.

Yeah Well, Life's Not Fair

Remember when you were a kid and Jessica Fairbanks, your best twin-name friend/nemesis, got to ride the pretty tall white horse named Dakota, and you got stuck with the fat old flea-bitten fart of equine genetics named Ralph. And how you expressed to your mother that,"It's not fair!"? and she responded with something to the tune of, "Yeah Well, life's not fair (YWLNF)." And how in that moment YWLNF was least desirable pentad of words you would ever ever want to hear?

Then when you got older and found out that indeed life IS NOT fair and that its' injustices both small and large are not only ever-present but yet to come. And that if you said "It's not fair," every time something was not fair you would be a miserable/infantalized adult with no friends and an equally disgruntled parrot named Lady?

Yes, life is full of inequalities- My students make sure to remind me of this on a daily basis. I try as little as possible to drop the YWLNF line of them, but sometimes it's all I got. I started thinking- What can really truly justify the YWLNF line. Less- "My boss is a prick loser and has out for me" and more "Life's a bitch and then you die"- I came up with a list.

1.) Having extremely abusive/shitty parents
2.) Innocent Bystander Casualties
3.) Extreme Psoriasis
4.) Colostomy Bag Necessity
5.) Severe Wheat/Gluten Allergies- seriously, what.
6.) Genocide
8.) Dirty drinking water
9.) Underdeveloped/absent sexual organs
10.) The fact that nearly 99.9% of the population will never get to go to outer space.

Sometimes you'll hit a kid with YWLNF because they're upset that they got the blue frisbee instead of the green one. Then other times you have to explain to a 7 year old that the reason they are not coming back to the same class next year is because their crackhead mother, with her own abusive background, exposed them to so much severe emotional, chemical, and sexual trauma at the age of 3 that their current guardian can no longer take on the challenges of caring for such a damaged child, and that they have to be shipped to another city where their Child Protective Services case was first opened, and entered into the foster care system, where they will not know anyone, will gain an even deeper sense of abandonment than they already have and have to rely on the failings of the under-funded Social Services to survive past high school.

But you can't really say YWLNF to a kid like that because they already know- and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it- I guess that's what makes certain parts of Life truly unfair- - the inability to change them

Coulda Shoulda Woulda

I have been a busy little beaver in the past month- wrapping up the school year, traveling, river ratting, sharpening my teeth. So busy that I have not had a smidgen of time to do any serious blogging of sorts. Damn Shame. This does not, however, mean that I have not THOUGHT about my blog. I think about it all the time- In fact I think about it so much I thought I'd blog about thinking about my blog. Finally- A little motivation- RIGHHTTTT!

Here are my top 5 Blog Thoughts (with Abstract):

1.) I djflkanut NEW YORK



When I went to NYC a few weeks ago to visit friends from various parts of my life I learned three things about myself: 1.) When it comes to vintage clothes under $20 I have no control. 2.) I love Ramen. 3.)Heat + Humidity + One leaky wallet + UTTER FILTH = Me djflkanuting New York.

While I relished the time I spent with my friends, who I love dearly and with great passion, I really did not enjoy New York this time around. I mean don't get me wrong: The food was off the HOOK, the shopping rocked my frock, and the people are insanely beautiful. But the HEAT. THE HEAT. JESUS MARYSUS. Imagine 90 degree humidity holding hands with the infernal sun: On top of rotting trash, millions of sweaty, stinky pedestrians, constant mind-numbing consumption, and an eternal hangover: NYC you kicked my ass.

2.) THE ONE

That's it. It Happened. I'm completely, totally, head over heels, butt-crazy IN LOVE! You know how people who are partners-4-life tell you that they just KNEW on the first date- just KNEW. I understand that now. City of Oakland: I HECKA DO!

3.) To Clean or Not to Clean

The other day I was washing my dishes, and started laughing. This is it, I thought to myself. Cleaning: It's friggen awesome. Dear Mom, You win.

4.) The Road Not Taken

Life is full of infinite possibilities. And so is email. I recently started this game "The Road Not Taken" (inspired by the Robert Frost poem) with my friend Nick, wherein I give 5 possible responses to his last email. Now the first email thread was pretty cut and dry.He wrote something- I wrote 5 somethings back. However when the ball went over to Nick's court. The response thread grew. He gave five responses- one response per 5 responses I gave- Then 5 whole new responses to my email in summation. Resulting in 10 total responses.

Now of course, we could continue on like this. I could directly respond to his last 5 responses then create a whole new thread of 5 more responses totaling in 10 responses per email OR I could Experiment In Exploding The Universe By Dabbling In Exponential Infinity Popping or EIETUBDIEIP. Think painting of a painting of a painting or in Laymen's terms: Sheri Lewis's "Song that Never Ends."


Every response gets 5 responses. This would require alot of work on both Nick and I's part. We'd both have to be very committed- which is kind of ironic since the whole point of giving 5 responses is to not commit. In any case- EIETUBDIEIP is not for the light of heart. But then again- consider: The Road.


5.) Trader Jo'Mama



Trader Joe's is funny because they try to keep it real by giving "ethnic" branding to their diverse array of food items:

Trader Giotti
Trader Jose
Trader Ming

In any case I came up with a list of possible Traders and their corresponding products:

a.) Trader Joke: Vegan Prime Rib
b.) Trader Jonas Brothers: Static Free Hair Brush
c.) Trader Guzman (my cat): Corn on the Cob - he loves corn. loves...................................

ugh this one is a fail. i really tried. if you got anything Joe-wise let me know.

Party Accomplished

Zee Hosts

Lucky Josh Dodds

MOMMA!

Bluegrass Bandini's- My favorite song: H1N1

Yup

Ladies of the Lawn

Jukin'!


Mr.Coleman

Smile High Club

Before the mug breaks.

My backyard alight with the lucid night

Party for Party Sake

Being Mean

The best part of becoming friends with someone is when you can start making fun of them to their face. My friend Josh Dodds and I are at this very point in our relationship and I am loving it. Mcdonalds style. Today after we went to a brunch with a bunch of people we vaguely know we sat on my couch for an hour making fun/gushing over each other.

JD: Jess, I just love your hair. Maybe you should do it like this (starts playing with hair.)
JB: I like my hair. You are obsessed with my hair.
JD: I am obsessed with hair in general. Why is it so greasy?
JB: I put pomade in it.
JD: You put grease in your hair?
JB: Yup. Do You?
JD: Well, you know, I got to. You don't have to though.
JB: It gets puffy.
JD: Like frizzy?
JB: Like Puffy. Big.
JD: I don't think so. I think it would be fine without it. Do you put it in when it's wet or dry?
JB: Both. It depends. I put it in dry today.
JD: You should put it in wet.
JB: It's not as effective. I like the way it looks now.
JD: Yeah, it looks good.
JB: Exactly.
JD: I don't know Jess. It feels nasty.
JB: Nobody told you to put your hands in it.
JD: Right.

Oh and when I wrote "the best part of becoming friends with someone is when you can start making fun of them to their face." What I really meant to say was, "The best part of becoming friends with someone is when you can shamelessly talk about your hair and the other person actually cares."

Special Ed vs Specialer Ed

Last Friday my friend/teacher partner Erika and I were strapped for lesson plans so decided we were gunna give our ragamuffins what they really want: an intermural-special-ed-dodgeball-throwdown. Erika and I both teach Separate Day Classes with special ed students, but in very different capacities. While Erika's students are struggling to remember the letter A, mine are screaming,"I'll fuck you in the ass!"

The most important distinction here is that Erika's students are in Special Ed primarily because they have a Specific Learning Disability or have been labeled "Mentally Retarded." My little hellraisers' disabilities, on the other hand, are due to "emotional disturbance." Students in my class very rarely have any cognitive deficits. They are just filled with rage.

So obviously pitting these two groups against one another in dodgeball was the most logical thing to do.

We penned the band of outsiders in a fenced in area, split the court in a half with purple chalk and let them at it. In a matter of minutes Erika's students had all been hit roughly ten times and at least three of my students were on a time-out from throwing above the neck and attempting to insight a riot. Ms. A's kids huddled at the back of the fence dancing and singing around generally ignoring the balls whipping past their faces, while my precious babes loomed over the purple line with blood dripping from their mouths screaming countless taunts, teases, and degradations of the soul. It was quite a sight to behold.

I, being a charitable and slightly vengeful person myself, joined Erika's motley crew and cross-haired all my favorite students- Jesse Owens, Hip-Hop, Spider-Monkey, Bo-jangles, Ziona Get-It-Straight, Cornbread and Ms. Fierce, beaning them all with a Ms. Baer ball to the knee caps. Suckas! Of course they showed me absolutely no mercy and I ended up running off the court with my tail between my legs and my arms cradling my head, screaming "STOPPPPP!!!"

In any case. If you are ever bored and have two special ed classes at your disposal, I encourage you to go to your neighborhood dollar store, purchase 8 rubber balls and head out to the nearest blacktop. It will be the best 8 dollars you ever spend.

Hands-On Learning

This week I went to the SFMOMA with one of my favorite students. She's a third grader and the definition of precocious. It was her first time going to any museum EVER even though she had seen them on TV and stuff. For the sake of confidentiality- let's call her Ziona- her self-proclaimed alter ego.
I am going to break down our adventure into top 5 incidents:

Incident #1: On the way to the moma is a park called Yerba Buena gardens. It's really beautiful and has all sorts of water features. Ziona is in pure heaven. She's a total water baby, and is pulling out all her change to make wishes for Martin Luther King and I am going to assume, her father, who passed away 4 years ago. In defiance of all logic and celebration of all possibility- every wish she makes is about the resurrection of her father. I watch her tenderly and make a similar wish of my own.

Incident #2: We are still at Yerba Buena and Ziona is obsessed with the water. Sitting there serenely she sweeps the water with the tips of her fingers:
Z: This feels like Barack Obama's Handshake.
M: What do you mean?
Z: Cold.
M: How do you know Barack Obama's handshake is cold?
Z: No answer.

Incident #3: We get into the museum and it's like shooting a gun to commence a race. Ziona is OFF! and I am forced to walk way more briskly than my usual museum stroll. I catch up to her just in time to see that the first thing she does at the sight of art is go right up to that sucker and put her whole hand on it. Smack.
M: Oh uh, don't do that.
Z: Why not?
M: Um, cuz you're not supposed to, and.....(she's off again)
By the time I catch up with her she's getting yelled at by a docent because there's a pool table sculpture with very meticulously placed balls atop it and Ziona is reaching over to grab one. My need to explain the rules has passed and Ziona sulks for a mere two seconds, "I don't like that lady," and is Peuwh...off yet again.

Incident #4: There is a video featuring a man dressed in drag slowly moving about a white room and fondling a pearl between two white gloved fingers. After running in and out of the room roughly 13 times Ziona keeps returning to the video, making little comments like, "What is she DOING?" "That's a man." "OHHH a pearl!"
Me: You seem to really like this video.
Z: I just wanna keep watching it because it doesn't make sense.
M: Do you think it has meaning?
Z: No
M: What if it did have meaning? What would it be?
Z: Slow-motion
M: Like being patient?
Z: Yes.

Incident #5: Ziona wants a subway sandwich so we decide to leave. On our way to the car we encounter another water feature, different from the one in Yerba Buena. Within seconds she's got her hands in it.
M: Does this one feel like Barack Obama's handshake?
Z: No.
M: Why not?
Z: Too cold.
M: Oh.

Needless to say we had an excellent time. I don't think I saw any art that day, except of course, the art of being, which Ziona has flawlessly mastered. In the car ride back she asked me if diamonds really do come from Africa and we had a wonderful conversation about questioning leadership. "I love this," I thought and turned up some Justin Timberlake real loud for drive back home.

Friends Tell Friends...

...When they have something in their teeth, or on their face or hanging off their shoe. For years, I have had an overwhelming urge to tell strangers with babies slung all over them that they have something on their shirt, head, back, ankle... Like a piece of schmutz ketchup. I never actually say it. But I always think it. And damn if it doesn't crack me up. EVERY-SINGLE-TIME.

Dinner

Mama brought ducks
With their little heads cut off
Kept em in a separate Tupperware
From the carrots
She dumped em in the
Frying pan
Sparks of broken water
Shot out at her
Face and hands
Burning her skin.

She barely jumped back
Let her skin burn
Watching those dead ducks
Fry. Fry. Fry.
Burn. Burn. Burn.

Nobody said nothing
When we ate the
Carrots
And the duck.
Mama’s hands all
Bleeding onto the plate.

Excessive Mischief

Recently a student of mine was written up by her bus driver for spitting on another kid. I am hoping this was her attempt to experiment with what she has been learning about hedgehogs- that they spit on each other for over 20 minutes at a time (Nobody knows why!)- and not her determination to be bus bully of the month. In any case, when I received the written notice there was a section of boxes catagorizing the offense. There was, of course, the violence box, swearing, moving around, yelling, disregard for authority boxes: Typical stuff. But to my sort-of delight, my student's deviance had been marked EXCESSIVE MISCHIEF.

Ha. I thought, Excessive mischief. How poetic: Implying that a certain amount of mischief is acceptable, if not encouraged. That mischief is an inevitable and essential part of being. Heck, I remember throwing pop cans out of the bus when I was in grade school, bagels out of cars in high school, doing donuts on the quad in college. Mischief is a one of the thickest fibers of life, and I'd like to think that this write-up document whole-heartedly acknowledges this tried and true fact.

There is a line, however, between mischief and Excessive Mischief. Being mean, dangerous, and gross is exactly where that line exists and my student definitely crossed it. So I tied her up and stuck her in a cupboard for about twenty minutes, while blasting Sheri Lewis's Song That Never Ends through a set of headphones I taped to her head and am pretty sure she'll never do it again. Conditioning folks, it's all about conditioning.

She will be back on plain old type 1 mischief in no time, I trust, and hope that her endeavors are as full of the wonderous joys of youthful mischieviocity as hiding toxic fish sauce in the back seat of your friend Maya's car in order to get back at her from when she sprinkled your lawn with instant mash potatoes. But the second that shit gets excessive, it's all lamb-chop baby, and there's no turning back.