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Sunday, May 12, 2002 Kindergarten Teachers: Fear I have the upmost respect for my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Humble. She was a smiling, grandmotherly figure who helped a young girl uncomfortable in English adjust to a group of babbling peers. I remember being taught to count to 100 and the days of the week. I remember practicing writing my name. And show-and-tell. She didn't mind that I always took that disabled Barbie doll, that a misguided but well-meaning realtive gave me, to show the class because it was the only thing I thought I had in common with the rest of the kids. Even when I wasn't in kindergarten anymore, the teachers still held this mystical, patient air. They were so good, so efficient at dealing with hyperactive children. Be the teacher a man or woman, something set them apart from the graded teachers. When I was still in elementary school, I managed to get a job at helping one of the kindergarten teachers clean up her classroom after school. I thought it was fun, putting away puzzles and toys, cleaning up the bookshelf, and preparing activities for the next day. But then the school got a new kindergarten teacher. She had a classroom across from where I worked. She was short, perhaps only a few inches taller than me at the time, and fresh out of school herself. Her bobbed blonde hair was almost white and she wore her face like a mask: caked makeup, as stark as a clown's. There was something not right about her, how she wore her stiff suits and how she opened her bright red lips in a practiced "O" when she talked. I avoided her. At the school, all the kids sat in a perfect que in the gymnasium to await the buses. As usual, I was late because I had been helping the other teacher, but she was there, patrolling. And when she saw me, an unholy fire lept up into her pitless dark eyes. A typhoon of fury descended on my head and I was verbally beaten to the ground. When my shivering husk stumbled to the end of the line, the younger boy in front of me clutched his lunchbox like a talisman. NYT Linkfest (registration required): A Man Who Would Shake Up Science. A new look at the world through simple programs? Looks like Wolfram is trying to aim for the title of 21st century Renaissance Man. I'm not saying that's a bad thing (the sometimes crusty institution of old science needs to be shook up once in a while) but conclusions shouldn't be so hastily reached. I'd wait for the reviews to come in when people can actually get their hands on a copy of his mysterious book. Global Village Idiocy. Not everyone has the ability to take everything with a healthy amount of skepticism. I get most of my news from the internet these days, but that doesn't mean I believe everything I read either. If only there wasn't so much blind devotion floating around. Kicking Up Cosmic Dust. I'm sorry, but I'm not that much of a Star Wars fan. Of course, I'll go to the theater dutifully like any other sci-fi geek and watch it, but I'm not a nut (like a guy I knew who bought all the Episode I toys, held a countdown 100 days before it opened, played the trailer 24/7, and ran around with his Star Wars blanket like a maniac). I mentioned this less than stellar review to my roommate. She just hopes that N'Sync isn't in it. [posted by S. Y. Affolee on 10:41 PM : ]
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