Look! A Group of 12-14 Year Olds, How Delightful! My PTSD (Post Teaching the Seriously Deranged)

Yeah the little bastards can look innocent but watch your back

The horror. 

Middle school students traveling in packs — as they usually do. Threes and fours seem the most common. When there are five or more, look out. Mind you I’m not at all frightened of middle schoolers, not for a second. I was a middle school teacher for about twenty years and lived to tell the tale. But it’s been seventeen years since I stood before them and I can’t help but wonder: how? How did I not only walk among them, but teach them? And history at that a subject of minus interest to most of them. No wonder I was on everything from Xanax to Klonopin to — for a short time — Zoloft.

So as you may have gathered I have a touch of PTSD when I come upon them. I dive into bushes, leap into traffic, run backwards, anything to avoid their underdeveloped, twisted brains, their foul mouths and obnoxious scowls.

They’re not all bad, you say. True there was some nice Cossacks. The Huns had some good souls among them, you could have met a charming Khmer Rouge, but the odds in all cases are against you.

You never knew what you were going to get from one day to the next, indeed from one minute to the next, with a middle school child. They could be silent and sullen unmovable and uninterested then when you turned your back transform into a roaring dervish with a buzzsaw of emotions. A middle school classroom could resemble a confluence of a broadway musical and prison riot.

What's a middle school kid like? Some play jump rope, some have oral sex. Some watch cartoons, some torment homeless people. Some act like saints, some are stoned half the time. A class of them can, on rare occasions, be like a graduate seminar while some are like that nightmare you had the other night. None are ordinary. 

How did I teach the little buggers? The amount of patience required is immeasurable. You need to be as strict as a prison guard. You need to be worlds more creative than the greatest of Renaissance artist. You need rigid structure and incredible flexibility. You have to be a trained psychologist. You have to possess solomonic wisdom. You have to be quick and decisive. You have to have moral fiber that a priest would envy. You can make no mistakes, have no embarrassing features, you can’t hesitate or equivocate. Your every move is being scrutinized. Give them no openings, nothing to pounce on, be letter perfect. You are walking on a knife’s edge and any fall is into an abyss.

But it’s rewarding.

Yeah the psychic income. Incalculable. 

But if I may be serious for a moment (a moment of seriousness being as much as I can stand). What really gets you is the weight on your shoulders. You feel the burden of your responsibility to those five classes for the ten months of the school year. You feel the burden of so many individuals, the ones who are troubled, who trouble you, who are struggling, who you struggle with. You feel the weight of the whole school. You feel the heat from parents, co-workers, and those goddamned higher ups many of whom have transformed from compassionate teachers to soulless bureaucrats. 

Once the school year ends you sleep the sleep of the just. A long, deep, contented slumber that seems to extend into half the summer. You breath normally. You feel the rays of the sun and the gentle breeze and are relieved to be among the living, the normal, the unbothered. It is bliss.

I look back proudly as my time as a teacher. I made too many mistakes to enumerate but too few to stew over. I did my job. I was there. I showed up. I never mailed it in.

And what was the thanks I got? Well actually, I did get paid (a little) and did receive appreciation and kind words from many. But it’s never enough. You can’t get enough recompense for teaching labors — at least not in this culture. Public school teachers are suckers. That’s their superpower. 

So when I see middle schoolers I recoil. But really only for a beat or two. I’m in a better place now. They can’t get me anymore. I’m safe.

Reflections on a Vacation: See It, Say It, Sorted, UK Visit 2025 Part Six

I love the English countryside. For one thing it’s green. We’re back in Berkeley where the hills are brown as they will be until November (if we’e lucky with rain) or more likely December -- January if we’re unlucky. England is not known for its mountains but it has rolling hills aplenty and scattered about are rivers, streams, creeks and brooks. White sheep and multi-colored cows dot the countryside. There are stone walls everywhere and houses and other structures that look like they’ve been there for centuries. Many of them have. As previously mentioned we stayed at a friend’s house whose house was built in the 1700s. Next door is a Quaker meeting hall that was built in the 1600s. 

The days we spent a large part of on trains were days well spent. I love to read on trains but who can take their eyes of the views when riding through England?

Then there is London. Saying it’s a big city is like saying the next galaxy is far away. London left being merely "big" a long time ago and is now massive. The humanity. In our week there we saw — good God how would I even even began to guess how many people we encountered? Let’s simply go with a lot. Mind you we were in places that draw crowds such as the British Museum, Trafalgar Square and Westminster Abbey. London draws people from all over the world both as immigrants and tourists. We  saw group after group of students. We encountered some obnoxious French high schoolers, Spanish middle schoolers and countless British students, some maybe were even from London. I'm not always sure what six and seven-year-olds are doing in museums.

The traffic in downtown London has three speeds: slow, slower and slowest. Less people drive in England than in the states but there are more than enough cars and boy are there are a lot of taxis (they’re quite nice to ride, roomy and comfy) and one helluva lot of double decker busses. The underground is the way to go. It’s fast, efficient and not at all difficult to navigate.

London is similar to New York in a lot of ways one of which is the quality an quantity of excellent museums. We made our third visit to the British Museum, perhaps the granddaddy of them all, on our last day. It’s one of those museums that you need several trips to if you mean to take it all in. I always make a point to see the watches and clocks collections. I love the medieval collections and the ancient civilizations as well.

Highlights of the trip were our visit visits to Scotland and to England’s Lake District, going to see the Arsenal play and win, my first visit to the National Portrait Gallery and all the many excellent meals we enjoyed. We ate like royalty spending freely always adding dessert. I’m going to need to get back to the gym as I will tomorrow.

It was a fun trip and a nice break from the normal routine. Though that being said a good vacation helps you really appreciate the creature comforts of home.

Glad to have gone and glad to be back.

Not Enough But More than Enough to Enjoy: See It, Say It, Sorted, UK Visit 2025 Part Five

The Thames, St. Paul's in the background

Finally. After all these years I had lobster for dinner. It was delicious. But I wish I’d gotten its father. This scrawny little crustacean provided insufficient “meat” for a hungry bloke but that is often the way with lobster. On the other hand the chips (French fries to you Yanks) that accompanied the little fella were the best I’ve had in many moons. The salad sublime, the NA beer — Swiss, had never tried it before — excellent and I enjoyed the ice cream for desert. Of course my wife’s company was, as always, wonderful and we enjoyed friendly banter with the family seated next to us which included a four-year-old who like me is a footie fan, and a baby that was as cute as the Dickens (actually I don’t know that the great author was all that cute). We also were charmed by our waitress who was from Moldova. 

The dinner capped a long day yesterday which featured a visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum. There we took in some of Britain’s plunder from its empire days although I spent a lot of time with British art from the 17th through 20th century. As with many museums there was more to see that one can possibly take in in one day. But I did manage to behold some Renaissance art, Buddhist art, bronze, iron and alabaster art and a smattering of representations from other lands. The gift shop I found wanting (but one substandard bookmark!) But the cafe more than made up for it.

After that we went to Westminster Abbey but it was sold out for the day. Disappointed but undaunted we strolled along the Thames eventually crossing the Millennium Bridge then walking by St. Paul’s before our dinner.

Yesterday I went on a tour of the famed Wembley Stadium. It’s an impressive place seating over 90,000, all seats including good sight lines. It’s clearly a terrific place to watch a match. We got to sit in the royal box, explore the dressing rooms, the post-match interview room, and the edge of the pitch where coaches stand and subs sit. I’d love to see the place when full with a game being played.

Today is the last full day of our journey with return home scheduled for early tomorrow morning. So far so good.

Yesterday I Yelled, Today I Beheld: See It, Say It, Sorted, UK Visit 2025 Part Four

At the Arsenal match, photo by author

Yesterday I was among 65,000 raucous fans yelling, cheering and singing. Today I was among dozens quietly contemplating the artistic wonders before us. I loved both experiences.

Sunday I went to Emirates Stadium in North London to see my beloved Arsenal play their last home game of the season. When I procured the ticket back in the Fall I had reason to believe that it might be the day that the Gunners clinched the title. Instead the battle was for second place. So it goes.

There’s little I love more in this world than my pilgrimages to see The Arsenal. It’s like heroin, the high is incredible. Merely seeing the team I follow all season long on the telly is cause for jubilation, add to that the incredible atmosphere in the stadium and the sense that I am at home and with my tribe and you have something very special in my life. 

I stopped in the team’s megastore pre-match to add to the clothing and souvenirs I have of the team. Then it was a stop at a concession stand for a vegetable pie (where do you get that in the States?) and a bottle of water.

My seats were excellent and given the king’s ransom I paid that was as it should be.

The game itself was nothing extraordinary but it’s always extraordinary to see some of the best footballers in the world in action. Add to that the fact that the home team notched a 1-0 victory and you couldn’t ask for more (well, besides a title). 

As it was the season finale the team took a lap of appreciation which was preceded by words from both team captain and the gaffer (manager).  The weather was pleasant so most people gladly stuck around for the festivities.

Munch portrait of an anarchist

Today was just a little bit different as the missus and I went to the National Portrait Gallery. Here voices were muted and instead of singing we contemplated great art in the former of portraits. There was a special exhibition of Edvard Munch portraits that we particularly enjoyed. Other than a footie match there’s little I enjoy more than wiling away time in a museum and this is one of the best I’ve ventured in.

In addition to fabulous paintings there were photographic portraits of more recent subjects. There were portraits of kings, artists, intellectuals, poets, rock stars and ordinary folk. As always I found the presence of great works of art inspiring.

Two very different experiences in two very different venues but both rewarding, enjoyable and memorable. Can’t beat that.

I Hate the Bother of Travel But Love Where I Go: See It, Say It, Sorted, UK Visit 2025 Part Three

Phil and I

I love to travel but I hate the traveling part. Heavy luggage. No wifi, spotty wifi, low batteries. Waiting for cabs. Looking for the right train. Hungry again. Need the toilet. Have we got everything? Where's the other bag? Can you hold this? On Friday we had to gather our belongings drag them downstairs catch a cab to the train station and bid adieu to Edinburgh.

The train took us to Oxenholme in England’s Lake District where my longest-serving friend, Phil, was waiting. He lives in the hamlet of Sedbergh nestled in the cold, foggy, rainy climes of Northern England. It was sunny, clear and warm. Atypical just as had been the weather in sunny Scotland. Once there the hassles of travel seemed a small price to pay.

I’ve known Phil since high school though we were out of touch for nearly thirty years until the magic of the internet brought us back together and we’ve seen each on numerous occasions for the last twenty-two or so years. 

Phil has a lovely home in a lovely area. His wife was traveling in Japan with their son so it was up to Phil and his dog Suki to entertain us and they did a wonderful job.

It was grand to have an extended time to catch up and re-live high school days. We were in Berkeley High’s first small school within a school called Community High where we were divided into tribes. It was all very Sixties and the forerunner of many such attempts to make the high school experience more manageable and relatable. It also provided another way for me to think of myself as special. Phil had a copy of our yearbook, mine had been lost or destroyed in a fire many decades ago. It's pictured on the right. It brought back many memories that washed over me like a warm wave. 

We discoursed on other topics far and wide from baseball to the books of Robert Caro to Trumpy. I can number on one hand all the people I've personally known who are Phil's equal in the art of conversation. I can't number any who would be his superior in that category. 

Phil provided both car and walking tours of the area. We saw many more sheep than people and a lot of green hills, trees and stone walls. Phil’s house was built in 1743, the same year, Phil proudly pointed out, that one Thomas Jefferson was born. Next door was a Quaker meeting house that dated back to the 1600s. 

We dined at the golf course where I feasted on fish and chips.

By yesterday afternoon it was time again to schlep our luggage to a train station and struggle onto another train. Three hours later we were back in London and soon thereafter made our way to another cab. We're now staying in the same Air B&B we did last year and the year before.

I’m off to Emirates Stadium this afternoon to see my beloved Arsenal Football Club in action. Hoping that it will be one of the main highlights of the trip. Seeing Phil, Suki and the area in which he resides is already a highlight. I hope to visit again. Indeed there are many parts of the UK that I want to make return visits too and many more that I want to explore for the first time. We'll be making our first-ever trip to Oxford tomorrow. Happily looking forward to what is yet to come as I also look back at what I've enjoyed to date -- such as Phil's warm hospitality.

I'll Have the Cullen Skink, Please: See It, Say It, Sorted, UK Visit 2025 Part Two

One of the many great views from Edinburgh Castle

Here I am in Scotland raving about the cuisine. I’ve had Cullen Skink twice now and I remain very much in love with this delectable fish stew. I’ve also dined on salmon, sea bass, haddock and macaroni and cheese. The latter is served most everywhere here and is part of a hearty meal. Every salad I’ve had so far has been excellent and the desserts are delicious. Who knew?

Yesterday I trekked up and I do mean trekked and I do mean up — way up — from out hotel to the Edinburgh Castle which has been around in one form or another for well over 1,000 years. Many such tourist sites one visits are ultimately kind of meh but with this castle you get a lot of bang for your buck — or pound. The views are spectacular in all directions. One can see why it was such a formidable fortress and safe haven for the royals. Why anyone would even dream of attacking it beggars belief. The castle is well-preserved maintaining a middle ages look and feel while being sturdy with modern convinces like gift shops, toilets, and mini-museums tucked inside. There’s much to see and I took in as much as I could. But it is the views I’ll remember.

Today the missus and I walked the Royal Mile which is surely longer than the name suggests. We popped into three small museums: children’s, peoples and Edinburgh’s. I was not disappointed by any of them and especially liked the people’s which celebrated the hard lives of common folk who in most of the world for most of history have not had it easy. It was a sobering exhibition.

There were shops and pubs aplenty along the Royal Mile. Plenty of cashmere and tweed being sold. Some places make kilts. Whiskey is also purveyed. You can stock up with scarves, shawls, gloves and hats. We stopped in one of the endless pub/restaurants for another in a series of long, leisurely meals. 

Then we went to Scotland’s National Gallery. This is a serious museum with four floors of great art. We only had enough energy to explore two of said floors but we saw plenty and it ranged from the beautiful to the magisterial, no surprise given the artists included some of the greatest from both Great Britain and other parts of Europe.

When you’re not seeing quaint shops and pubs in Edinburgh you’re taking in views and beautiful ones at that. Sadly the parts of the city we’re exploring are overrun by tourists (yeah, like us). We know how annoying they can be. I imagine it’s far worse in the summer.

I began the previous post with a rant about showers and I nearly repeated it today. This hotel has another overly complicated system to get you either water that is too hot, too cold, coming too fast or too slow, that is if you can figure it all out in the first place. Anyway the food around here makes up for it. Especially the Cullen Skink. Yum.

We're In Edinburgh and it's Love at First Sight: See It, Say It, Sorted, UK Visit 2025 Part One

Edinburgh, photo by author

Why can’t every hotel, bed and breakfast Air B&B, inn, hostelry and motel in the world have a standard, simple shower. One with a high nozzle that sprays water down on a person in a steady flow? That’s the question I pondered yet again this morning after our one-night stay in an otherwise perfectly functional hotel in London. This while wishing I had an engineering degree so I could sort out the various nozzles, handles and switches. NonethelessI managed to shower and soon the missus and I were at King’s Cross railway station awaiting our train to Edinburgh, Scotland.

We arrived in England’s capital yesterday morning after an overnight flight from San Francisco during which I consumed two typically substandard meals and slept fitfully and uncomfortably. Did manage to get some reading done.

For the third year in a row we had lunch at the Euston Flyer a large and lovely pub/restaurant. I had the fish and chips and an NA beer, again for the third year running.

At another table were three couples in their early sixties from the states and it took me no time at all to determine that they were Mormons. They had gotten to know the proprietor and bombarded him with questions about England that betrayed a woeful ignorance of geography typical of dumb Americans — of which there are far too many. One of their party told the owner that they were from Utah. Duh.

Speaking of dumb….On the tube taking us from the airport to central London there was an American couple who, as the train pulled way realized that they’ve left — it’s unclear how many or of what nature — bag(s) with items important to their journey somewhere they knew not where. I saw the looks on both their faces when they were struck with the realization. It’s a terrible feeling and I felt for them. We’ve all been there in one way or another knowing something valued or critical has been left behind and is likely lost for good. The man kept apologizing to the woman who assured him it was okay despite the fact that it clearly wasn’t. It was obvious to me that they’d been together only a few years and had doubtless met online. They probably got together a few years after divorces and have found companionship and sexual compatibility. This is likely their first trip together. Bad start.

After settling into our hotel we went for a walk. It was a lovely day the kind that London doesn’t get a lot of. That is.... it had been. Suddenly clouds thick and gray formed there followed the rumbling of thunder  then a torrential downpour. We took shelter in a store with many others. It didn’t last long and soon we were on our way.

In the evening we stumbled upon a lovely little Italian restaurant where we had a sumptuous dinner and enjoyed a chatting with the waitress who, like the meal, was authentically Italian. One table over was an interesting trio that included a man of about forty who was clearly on the bipolar spectrum (takes one to know one) and was in a bit of a manic phase. He was shuffling, squirming, twitching, getting up to walk. Poor bloke. The older gent at the table was a fellow Gooner (Arsenal fan) and upon chatting with him discovered we’re both going to the match on Sunday.

Today we took the train to Edinburgh (that’s pronounced ED-In-Burr) and it was love at first sight — not the train, Edinburgh. What a grand looking city. Like a lovely older woman who is classy as hell but knows how to have a good time. There’s a gothic look to the city with spires reaching to the heavens, statues, memorials all mixed in with the greens of parks and trees. It's also a surprisingly cosmopolitan city replete with tourists and university students from countries far and wide.

After checking into our newest digs — which feature a view of Edinburg Castle — it was time for dinner. We stopped at the first place we came upon and it was an excellent choice. Fiddler’s Arms was the name of the pub/restaurant. The staff was young and friendly and the food was delish. I started with a fish stew called Cullen Skink that’s popular in these parts. It was the best stew I’ve had in many moons, if not ever. That was followed by pan-seared salmon. It was a healthy piece of fish and assured two great meals in two nights. Almost makes up for the airplane “food.”

We walked around for a bit and now it’s back in the room. Tomorrow I get a tour of the aforementioned castle, the missus is sitting this one out. The vacation is off to a cracking start.

For Your Reading Enjoyment I Proudly Present Thirty-Six Great Quotes

Robert Benchley

“There are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe there are two kinds of people in the world and those who don’t.” — Robert Benchley

“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

“It was a genuine battle picture, and I was aware of its angry beauty.” — Siegfried Sasoon

“And the blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.” —Sylvia Path

“If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.” — Stephen Fry

“Every tradition grows ever more venerable - the more remote its origin, the more confused that origin is. The reverence due to it increases from generation to generation. The tradition finally becomes holy and inspires awe.” — Nietzsche 

“Often the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of.” — From The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain.

“Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind.” — Ecclesiastes 1:17

“The rich rob the poor, and the poor rob one another.” — Sojourner Truth

“Teachers, let me tell you, are born deceivers of the lowest sort, since what they want from life is impossible -- time-freed existential youth forever. it commits them to terrible deceptions and departures from the truth.” —  From The Sportswriter by Richard Ford

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

“No one is more dangerously insane than one who is sane all the time: he is like a steel bridge without flexibility, and the order of his life is rigid and brittle.” — Alan Watts

“It is easy, when you are young, to believe that what you desire is no less than what you deserve, to assume that if you want something badly enough, it is your God-given right to have it.”  ― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

“What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.” ―J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

“Literature is my Utopia. Here I am not disenfranchised. No barrier of the senses shuts me out from the sweet, gracious discourses of my book friends. They talk to me without embarrassment or awkwardness.” — Helen Keller, The Story of My Life

“Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.” ― Anaïs Nin

“I would like to be one of those people who treat their local team like their local restaurant, and thus withdraw their patronage if they are being served up noxious rubbish. But unfortunately (and this is one reason why football has got into so many messes without having to clear any of them up) there are many fans like me. For us, the consumption is all; the quality of the product is immaterial.” — Nick Hornby Fever Pitch

“A Troll is someone who wants you to feel, for a few seconds, as miserable as they do their entire existence.” — Ricky Gervais

“Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those timid spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.” — Theodore Roosevelt

“Film as dream, film as music. No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls.” — Ingmar Bergman

“And the blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.” — Sylvia Plath

"The only one way we were going to get serious about a revolution was when we had something in the soil. We have it — the People’s Park — and its avenging angels are everywhere.” — Eldridge Cleaver

“There were complications, there were questions; but they were so much more together than they were anything else.” — Henry James from The Wings of a Dove

“The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.” — Thornton Wilder

I am one who believes in the power of the people. I am inspired when I see people hit the streets, who challenge their elected officials, and are willing to stand up and fight. I encourage it. — Maxine Waters

“There are people in every time and every land who want to stop history in its tracks. They fear the future, mistrust the present, and invoke the security of a comfortable past which, in fact, never existed.” — Robert Kennedy

“I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.” ― Edna St. Vincent Millay

“The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you've got it made.” — Groucho Marx

“There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious—makes you so sick at heart—that you can't take part. You can't even passively take part. And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you've got to make it stop. And you've got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it that unless you're free, the machine will be prevented from working at all.” —Mario Savio

"I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.” — Angela Davis

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.” ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

“Think of how stupid the average person is, and realize half of them are stupider than that.” — George Carlin

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” — Oscar Wilde

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ― Maya Angelou

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 

― Martin Luther King Jr.

“[...]the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!” 

― Jack Kerouac, On the Road