| In response to docmom... |
[Apr. 25th, 2009|01:28 pm] |
In this meme, you comment, and I respond with five things I associate with you. Then, you go forth and pontificate on those five things in your own journal, and you ask folks to comment, and you tell them what you associate with them, and lo! Wordy meme/writing prompt, hopefully with much discussion.
This post has been in various stages for 2 weeks now. I found myself with some unexpected time this afternoon, so it's now done. Enjoy.
High School Sports
I never gave a lot of thought to high school sports when I was actually in high school. I went to a few football games here and there, but that was about it. A good chunk of this was being apathetic about them...I didn't know anything about soccer, for example, and so never bothered to go to the soccer games. Same with volleyball, in retrospect. Softball, I don't know why I never went to the games...there were a number of nice (and nice looking) girls on the team...I guess I just never thought to go. In other cases, it was more to do with the people and circumstances. I've already written about my issues with the school's basketball team, and with basketball in general. And my high school's baseball team, although they were really good, was largely made up of a bunch of jerks, and was coached by an utter cretin.
This all changed once I became a teacher. Although most of the student-athletes would never admit it, they want to see their teachers at their games. I made it a point to get out and support the students. Sadly, few other teachers do the same. One teacher in particular lives in another county and only shows up to games when that county is playing us and sits on the visiting team's side. I noticed that the athletes I had in class started to do better, academically and behaviorally after they saw me at a few games. The fact that I actually enjoy the games doesn't hurt, either. The whole “school spirit” thing kicks in, and the kids play hard...even when it's obvious they're going to lose.
Last year, in particular, the baseball team adopted me. I started out watching their games because I was working the gate for their games (we have to work two gates a year, anything after that, we get paid for). After I'd worked my two, Kat and I kept going to the games. The players started noticing. Then they had an away game, in McLean County. We'd been wanting to go to an away game for awhile, and I needed (and, dammit, STILL need) McLean County for my Where's George addiction, so we took the hour or so drive out to their high school, which makes UCHS look like it's in a happenin' place, and watched the game. And froze to death. The players and parents really noticed at that point. After that, players that I didn't have started asking if I was coming to that night's game. They started shouting my name when they saw me at the game. One of the assistant coaches started greeting me as “Coach.” Kat and I were invited to their year-end banquet, and they gave me a miniature UCHS batting helmet and called me their #1 fan.
Kat and I sold tickets a number of times for the football games throughout the playoff run, and a few other times for various other sports (not for basketball or wrestling, though...the way those are set up, you can't watch the game while you're working.) Our athletic director comes to us when he's in a pinch for tickets to be sold, and it paid off...I'm working the gate for nearly every baseball game this year, meaning that I get paid to watch my guys. They're hanging in there, although they've hit a rough patch lately.
Memory
I'm not sure why my memory is so good. Kat would probably disagree with you...one of our usual arguments is over whether or not I told her [insert random thing that I damn well know I told her but she doesn't remember]. Also, my memory is...strange. I remember obscure details, but am terrible with names. That's probably why I'm good at trivia contests, academic team stuff, etc, but not so good at keeping up with day to day practical things. I think I'm probably more into the experience of the moment, which is why I remember little details.
Nicknames
Heh. I had the one unfortunate nickname in high school (and no, I'm not typing it here) that went from derogatory to just silly. My mistake was introducing it to a new group once I got to college. Thankfully, I managed to deprogram you all :-). Anyhow, other than that, I really haven't had much in the way of nicknames...my parents and Kat will sometimes call me Jas, that's about it.
Beards
I grew my first beard during my senior year of high school. I had started growing my hair long during my junior year (it was the early 90s..I had a mullet, ok? ok.) In retrospect, I think that I grew my hair and beard out to counter the “nerd” grief that I got throughout high school. I had the proverbial stick up the ass during my first two years in high school. I started to loosen up during my junior year, and GSP did a lot to help as well. So I came back from Christmas break of senior year with shoulder-length hair (in the back only, and damn, but was it stringy) and a full beard (although the “full” in this case is relative...I look back at the pictures from those days and am amazed at how thin the beard is compared to now). I had never cared for shaving...it took time and made my face raw (electric razors and I don't get along...they leave stubble, and pull, and once I got my long hair stuck in one and had to get out the scissors.) I got the above-mentioned bad nickname due to my poor shaving habits and inability to grow a decent beard at the time. For a brief period, I got a wild hair and shaved the sides, leaving a goatee. Kim made me shave that for prom, and I got to Transy with a mullet and a clean-shaven face. I gave up on shaving when I realized that it was more trouble than it was worth to get up early enough to shave before class (I got to Dr. Fuller's class about 5 minutes late every day as it was) and decided that I looked better with a beard than without anyhow, so I grew it out around a month into being at Transy. I goofed up trimming it a couple months later, shaved it off, and grew it back. At some point in 1995 (my second year, I think), I cut the mullet. I kept it until a month in 1998 when I again goofed up trimming it.
The month that it took to grow back convinced me that I really don't need to be without a beard. Not only did several people I'd known for years not recognize me (and I spent several days doing double takes and saying “what the hell??” every time I passed a mirror), but I realized that (1) I have no chin and (2) I have really bad acne scars that are horribly noticeable without the beard. I also could feel every single air molecule individually striking my face...and it felt wet for a week. Really, really annoying, and this wasn't even winter yet. I probably would freeze to death without the beard. Kat has grudgingly made her peace with the beard...grudgingly.
Spelling Bees
I think part of why I've always hated English class was because (at least in the earlier grades) it was basically a rehash of what was blindingly obvious. (In the later grades, it was more about over-analysis and self-important academic grandstanding...does it really matter what color Jay Gatsby's car is? Is my life enriched in any meaningful way by knowing that Carson McCullers was born on February 19, 1917? I've had this useless fact filed away in my memory because I had to know it for a stupid English test for nearly 20 years, taking up room that could be better used for...anything, really. Am I a bad person for refusing to toe the party line that Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights is a tragic character to be pitied, rather than the conniving asshole that he is?)
*ahem*
As I was saying, I've always been good with words, reading, language, etc. I could read before I got to kindergarten and was bored by what they gave us to read there. I was in a reading group in first grade that was so advanced we had to go to another class for it. So being forced to spend hours, days, etc of my life doing pointless grammar exercises when I already knew them, endless definitions of words I already knew, etc, made me detest English. Perhaps these early experiences poisoned the well for the later stuff, but only slightly...I loved most of the books we had to read...until we had to talk about them.
I suppose my natural talent with words came into play when it came to spelling bees. In 4th grade, I was picked to go to the school spelling bee from our class, along with a couple others, since I always did well in the class spelling bees. I did reasonably well, getting knocked out by “apricot”...I spelled it apercot. Fifth grade, I won the school spelling bee and qualified for the county bee. It was at Jefferson Mall (of all places) and there were a hundred or so of us moving in a long snaking line around where the Lazarus (probably still Shilleto's at the time) store used to be (I can't remember what's there now, but it wasn't Lazarus the last time I was there). I made it to the third round, when they busted out the intermediate level words which overwhelmed my 5th grade mind. I found out years later that my friend Brandon went to the same spelling bee and came in second.
In sixth grade, I came in second in the school spelling bee, getting bounced on “peculiar.” By this time, I was “into” the whole spelling bee thing, and I set my sights on the next year's bee. So, in the fall of 1987 in Ms. Kantlehner's 7th grade English class spelling bee..the top finishers to go on to the school's bee...it happened.
The word was “one-half.” That was how it was listed in our spelling books (which were ancient then...probably of late 70s vintage). “O-N-E *dash* H-A-L-F” I said. But, from the depths of some dark, demon-haunted corner of my mind, came something terrible...something unbidden, unwelcome, unwanted...and unstoppable as a juggernaut...”E”. I cringed. The teacher cringed. The class cringed. I sat down, having finished dead last in my class.
The next year brought redemption. I easily won Ms. Garcia's spelling bee, and went on to win the school's bee. The county spelling bee was at a larger school that year...I've long since forgotten where. We again snaked throughout the school and on and off of the stage in a huge line. I found myself sitting next to a cute girl with long braided hair down to the small of her back from Frost Middle School named Amanda. We talked and kept each other company. We found out we were both on our school's academic teams. She was a sweetheart...the stuff every first crush should be made of. The snake line got shorter and shorter, and soon Amanda and I were able to stay on the stage along with a few others. Amanda got knocked out, and it came down to a fifth grader and me. I can't remember what word he misspelled, but whatever it was, I spelled it right. I drew my number. The word was “undulance:” the quality or state of undulating. “U-N-D-U-L.....*ok...50/50 shot here...umm....* A? - N-C-E.” “You've just won the spelling bee.” Wow.
As the 1988 Jefferson County Spelling Bee Champion, I got a big trophy (although it wasn't as big as the one that Brandon had received years earlier for coming in SECOND..grrr!), a number of certificates (at least one of which spelled my name wrong), a $200 savings bond (that, to my lasting annoyance, I cashed in to put toward a Craftmatic bed that I bought with She Who Must Not Be Named), and had my name on the 11pm news (which they mispronounced.) My birthday was less than a week later, and my parents called me their #1 Speller in their birthday card. I also got a card through the inter-school mail congratulating me from Amanda at Frost Middle. I spent the next several months all a-twitter waiting to see her in February...where she was all over some guy named “Ricky James.”
Ricky James?? Ricky. James. What the ever loving hell kind of name is that?
*ahem*
Anyhow, winning the county bee qualified me for the “official” state championship, which is where [Bad username: âdocmomâ] and I met for the first time, and the qualifying bee for the national spelling bee. The state bee was recorded to be on tv later. They had a local (Louisville) DJ as the moderator. Docmom looks exactly the same now as she did then, just without the 80s hair. She and I both exited early in that one (I suspect because, at least for me, that was spring break week and I had other things on my mind, like coming up with new ways to slay Ricky James...)
At the qualifier for the national bee, we snaked around again, but all on a stage this time. Every student got applause as they missed their word, in recognition of how far they'd made it. I came in 10th, getting knocked out by “sinciput” meaning the front of the head...a word that I had never heard before...or since...and I teach anatomy. That was my last big spelling bee...there was one in class in 10th grade, but the school bee was at the same time as a quick recall match, and it didn't go on to anything beyond that.
When we were all at Transy, there was some flap about several school districts saying that spelling bees didn't really promote learning and were too competitive and led to bad feelings and all the usual crap. I disagreed then, and I still do. I learned many things learning words...patterns, definitions, etc. And let's face it...life is about competition. And as a teacher, this was one of the first examples of taking the responsibility off of the students. I have to wonder how many teachers were taken to task for having spelling bees in their classrooms. |
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