Some public schools enforce no-fighting policies to the extent that they expect children to play the victim:
"The principal at my own son’s school expects–and I kid you not–that students will curl up on the ground into a fetal position and hope that someone else goes running for help."
We haven’t had to confront this yet with Mr. B. But something tells me it’s not too far off.
Via Instapundit
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Posted in Mr. Boy
I’ve posted before about this effort to help our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan call home. But today, receiving a relative’s Xmas gift for Mr. B in an Amazon box, I found a soft-plastic mailer for the program, postage-paid, inside. Pretty cool. Makes it very painless. Indeed, Mr. B. and I rooted out an old cell phone from the garage and dropped it into the mailer. We’ll take it to a mailbox later today to mail it. It’s another good reason to shop Amazon when you can.
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Tagged Amazon, Cell Phones for Soldiers
Mr. B. frequently comes out of school in the afternoons perturbed at his imprisonment rather than elated that the confinement is over for another day. Today he grumbled that he wished he didn’t have one more day until Christmas break began. But he does. Nevertheless, after delaying the start of his homework for so long that I began to think he’d given up on doing it, he pitched in and got it all done, including his weekly book report and begging me to help him learn the twenty-five spelling words for tomorrow’s test. On the list were such toughies as Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, and, lo and behold, Christmas. Surprisingly, he had the first two down cold, but he kept stumbling over the big C, spelling it c-h-i-r-s-t-m-a-s until I told him to remember that it was originally about a Roman Catholic mass for the birth of Jesus who was called the Christ, c-h-r-i-s-t, with mass at the end, minus one s. After that he got it. Thank goodness we both get a break from school after tomorrow.
Rats. Mr. B. and I were just at Lowe’s to pick up a replacement flapper for the one that’s leaking in the toilet in the guest bathroom, causing it to run and run. Now I discover we’re to have a freeze tonight and a deeper one tomorrow night. Don’t think I have enough covers for the outdoor faucets. Could have bought more at Lowe’s. Come to think of it, they had several big boxes of them arrayed up and down the center aisle near the registers. I wondered about it. Now I know why. Will have to use a towel for one or two faucets, I guess. Curiously enough, there’s also a possible brush fire warning from all the wind today. But, having little brush around the rancho, I believe we can just let that one go.
UPDATE: The freezes went okay, but I couldn’t get the toilet’s inflow shut off to fix the flapper. Something tells me something worse is going on. I called a plumber and await his ministrations.
MORE: He came, he tinkered, he resolved the problem with a new fill valve, wall shutoff and water hose. Said the flapper was okay all along. Problems that start out small have a way of becoming larger at the rancho. Sigh.
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Posted in Mr. Boy, Rancho Roly Poly, Weather/Climate
Tagged freeze, South Central Texas
The Mouth of the Brazos and I go back to a time when kids carried pocket knives everywhere, even to school. Imagine that. Nowadays, as MOTB says, just drawing a picture of a knife can set teacher tongues wagging. But imagine my surprise when I learned that Mr. B.’s teacher has outlawed tag at recess. The problem, as she sees it, is the "contact" part, as in the touching, slapping, punching, whatever, to indicate who is "it." Mr. B., ever the rebel, suggested pointing. Just pointing, within a range of, say, twelve inches. One teacher liked it. But not his. So, no tag at recess. They call this progress. Sensitivity, and other malarkey.
UPDATE: Teachers do have the ability to impose rules of their own, but in this case, the no tag policy is district wide. Not a single child in the Austin school district is allowed to play tag at recess. Pathetic. Worst of all–are you ready for this?–it’s increasingly becoming the case nationwide.
Mr. B. came home from school with a big smile today. He said he had some news. He turned it into a joke. He said "Dad, me and two other boys had to go to the principal’s office, today." I thought, uh oh, but I didn’t say anything. He said, "It’s all explained in this note," and he handed me the note. The note said, "These three boys got 105 on their spelling tests this week, including photosynthesis and chlorophyll." He was especially pleased that not a single girl in the class could spell chlorophyll. Let me tell you, among second grade boys, beating out girls is a big deal.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 