On the day after Christmas, did you see what I see?

Welcome to my new follower, and second student to find me in the blogoshpere, Sarah. Without too many details, I will share with you my admiration for her self-determination. Plain and simple she is a warrior and a fighter. She didn't think working at ESPN surrounded her with enough testosterone or fragile male ego and decided to become a paramedic instead. Welcome to the horror of it all Sarah!

Today I was at Borders. While walking down the stairs to the first floor I passed a girl and her mother on their way up. The mother was leading her daughter by the hand. The girl was completely and totally excited to be slowly walking up the stairs. The mother held the girl's hand and encouraged the squealing girl on. You could tell climbing stairs was something her daughter with long curly blonde hair, and bright blue puffy coat, really enjoyed.

I locked eyes with the daughter and it left both of us with little choice but to smile. It was an extremely small gesture that brought an instant of joy to my face. It made me take a second to look back up the stairs when I reached the bottom. The girl's angelic glow and infectious smile stayed with me for most of the day. I'm sure most everyone has had an experience like that.  For me, life is always in the little things.

Allow me to now to help you re-imagine the scene you just pictured in your head. The daughter wasn't a little girl. It was a woman who appeared to be in her early 20's. My educated guess was that she was born like any other little girl and suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury later. Her mother was leading her with a practiced hand and also made eye contact with everyone around them. It was a look of compassion and understanding mixed with the fear of expectation. None of that really mattered as they blocked most of the stairs, she was doing it for her daughter who was having the time of her life.

The reason I turned at the bottom of the stairs, besides a moment of sharing someone's joy, was because there were two teenage boys and a father behind me. It had taken less than a step for me to figure out the mother's fear and expectation. Much like the girl's mother, life has taught me to always be on guard.  Just as expected, both boys were laughing as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Before your imagination runs away with you, the boys were laughing because they felt the daughter's joy too. One said,"Wow! All that from climbing stairs? That's awesome." The other boy remarked how the mom should take her daughter to ride the escalator. The boys with their shaggy black hair, sock caps, and pants hanging by willpower below their waist, understood and were touched by the girl's infectious aura. It's too bad the ass of father wasn't.

Just when you see light exist in the world someone seems to be there to stamp it out. There to set a manly example for his boys the man called the daughter a f*****' retard. Anyone that knows the real me, even a little, knows what is about to happen...I would never fail the What Would You Do? scenario. Still holding a bright orange Bunny Suicides calendar in my hand I turned to face the man. That's when I watched as the taller of the two boys said "Don't be a dick Dad" and lightly slapped his father with a backhand to the gut for emphasis.

The father with his rolled eyes and smirk missed the point entirely. The rolled eyes between the two boys told me they didn't. I wound up putting the Bunny Suicides calendar back with hope for the world yet.

JOE

Thank you Mrs. Mullins...

First off, I want to give a shout out to my newest follower, Jenn.  She is the first of my students to find me in the blogosphere. If you read Jen’s profile she says something about being an ordinary mom. I have to take issue with that since I don’t know too many moms who have gone through the fire academy and know how to deal with firefighters, climbing ladders, or how to run with 200 feet of hose. Welcome to the horror of it all Jenn.

Speaking of students, I had an interesting experience today. It was one of those things that has no choice but to make you review your own past and compare it to a current situation.  I should start by saying that I went a smarty smarty goody goody school back in the 80’s. You had to test into the school in the fourth grade and from that point on no one entered your class. Students left of course, but from the first day of fourth grade you were stuck with the same hundred students as a class. 

It was a bold educational system designed to meet educational requirements in combination with classical techniques and extremely challenging work.  They encouraged competition with each other and the drive for personal and group achievement. We were dominators in both academic and sport competitions.  One of my most memorable tests was in Civics. Our final exam for that class was to define the historical significance for every item/lyric of We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel.  Just my luck the song came out that year. I would challenge anyone reading to give it a shot and see what they recall or even know about.

My school was progressive in every area except one…Sexual Education. One week of each year between 5^th and 8^th Grades we had Mrs. Mullins. She resembled any heavy set polyester clad grandmother you know with a curly gray roller set and photo-gray glasses. Most of what she said was to scare us into not having sex. Things like “No heavy petting girls because he probably pet your dog on the way into the house…that would be disgusting and you could get an infection and die.” Another gem would be, “If you fool before you get married you could get one of a variety of venereal diseases, have your penis rot off…and die.” 

Why did I tell you all that? For this… Even though we were preached to about abstinence, we were still correctly taught about our changing bodies. We were never allowed to use slang and Mrs. Mullins took her anatomy/physiology lessons and question answering very seriously.  Fast forward a decade or so in education and you have the issue I encountered today…subbing in for a reproductive lecture that included two girls who didn’t know they had any anatomy between their legs other than a vagina . That’s correct ladies and gentlemen, they had no clue.  One girl, a mother of two no less, was so shocked that she stood up and exclaimed, “You mean I have a vulva?! All of this (insert circling hand motion) isn’t a vagina?!” Sadly this is not the first time this type of thing has happened.

As a post secondary instructor I have to ask, when did things get so screwed up in schools that two of our students, from two different schools, were never given the knowledge of their own body parts and how they work?  After a good laugh, and some further discussion, it was revealed that no one had a quality sexual education program at their schools. What they did have was usually performed by the PE coach in a locker room telling them not to let boys touch them or how boys should wear condoms. Not how to put a condom on, just that it should happen. 

I realize we live in a society that still discusses seeing a covered nipple on television several years ago, but are we so naively focused on teaching abstinence that we stopped educating our kids? I don’t want to get into the classic SexEd debate about where responsibility rests for the education to happen. The point is…it isn’t happening at all. 

Teen pregnancy is on the rise and worse it is being glamorized. Last year more than 20 high schools in the nation had to close down because of the number of students out with gonorrhea. We even had a local school close down a few years ago for the same reason. Herpes is at an all time high among 18-24 year olds. The worst news yet, condom use is at an all time low in that same age category.  HIV and AIDS were galvanizing topics one way of another not so long ago. Today what people marched for is considered a joke and no worse than the flu. 

I just want to send this out to the void…In today's society kids are exposed to messages of hyper-sexuality you probably never had to deal with. If you love your kids and you want to save their lives, stop preaching and make sure they get a thorough sexual education.You owe it to them. As for you Mrs. Mullins, before I got happily unmarried I fooled around A LOT (nearly mathematically impossible) and I never got so much as a crab, my penis hasn’t rotted off…and I didn’t die!

Willy Wonka goes to war...

Dear Vending Machine Man,

This letter is to  inform you of my severe displeasure with your recent replacement of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups with the Boyer Mallo-Cups. You sir, have lost your ever lovin' mind if you think you can continue to perform these sort of shenanigans.

I was willing to overlook your support of poor cardiac care when you replaced our natural fruit juices with the glowing poison of Gatorade.  I am sure you had the best of intentions when replacing drinks with 7% of our daily sugar intake with those containing 50% of salt intake in a single serving...with 4 servings in the bottle!

I was also willing to overlook you replacing the Mac's BBQ Pork Skins with the Hot Fries dipped in that glowing red dust that I am sure we will find out next year causes cancer. At only 80 calories Mac's gave its consumers a light airy crunch with peppery bite. The Hot Fries leave you with oiled up fingers covered in cancerous dust and unable to answer your office phone. Even when you pick up, you get the same dust all over the side of your face.

However, I was appalled today when I went into the break room to find that you had replaced everyone's favorite candy with a poor generic substitute in a cheap yellow wrapper. The Mallo-Cups may have a "smooth whipped cream center" but it is NOTHING compared to the peanut buttery rich goodness of the dejected Reese's candy.

The lack of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups this afternoon has caused an uproar around the office. We have some very large girls, with some very large appetites, and cravings that must be satiated or else things get...complicated.  Poor Kiki and Shawanda have been stalking the halls looking for their fix all afternoon.

I was almost killed today when the aroma of a freshly opened package of peanut butter and crackers reached their office through the ventilation ducts. Fortunately, my quick reflexes allowed me to toss the package into the office across from mine. Unfortunately, the guy in the office was was bent down tying a shoe and the package flew behind him.

The scene of two Sumo sized women diving for a tiny screaming man would have been worthy of movie admission.  I can only imagine his horror as the fluorescent lights overhead were blotted out by the creatures of candy craving flesh flying at him with their press-on nails unsheathed.   Which reminds me, what did you do with my white cheddar popcorn?! 

I demand that you discontinue your poor, inconvenient, and unhealthy practices of candy and vending replacements. From this date forward you should strive to meet the dietary requests of your consumers as well as their necessary afternoon sugar bliss.

Sincerely,
Joe

Why did the chicken cross the road and other plot holes...

Special thanks to my Saturday Writers buddy Sioux, over at SiouxsPage, who sent me a link to Savage Chickens. It will now be a part of my morning check of blogs. Before I knew it, I had spent almost half an hour looking at chicken cartoons this morning.  They are drawn by Doug Savage on Post-Its of varying size and posted almost daily.

This seems to be a week for old hats. As some of you know, I am stepping down at the end of the year as director of my paramedic school. The plan was for me to step down into a part time position dealing with our clinical sites. My intent was to open up a lot of time for me to devote to writing. In the course of two minutes it was decided, without my input, that I would instead be getting my original job back as EMT instructor.

Going back to being an instructor is good and bad. The good of it is teaching is what I love. No matter what job I have had in the past, I have wound up being an instructor or trainer for it. The best part about teaching for me is that it's a job and not work.  The bad is that it means working on Tuesdays and Thursdays for 14 hour shifts. I'm off the rest of the week but those are some long days. 

The biggest downer is that I was finally going to be able to attend Coffee and Critique...now I won't be able to. There are probably a couple of people who just breathed a sigh of relief and don't know why. I'm not sure C&C could handle the demonic, zombified, vampire bitten, bloodied victims of scarecrow inspired psychopaths that I would bring to the table. 

There are a lot of online critique forums out there but they are usually very lacking in professionalism and well...talent.  The Critters group on Critique.org looks very promising though and I have applied for that. Now, what I need is a proofreader who can handle the material...I can pay in cash and pilfered chicken cartoons.   

JOE