Where's Waldo?

See if you can find what is out of place in Al Gore's office. Thanks to Roger Mexico of Fark.com for the photo.

As the Parade Passes By

Oh wow, another school year has come and gone. I can hardly believe it. The last day of school was yesterday, and I am left feeling somewhat bittersweet this morning. That’s because of this particular group of wonderful students I had the privilege of teaching this year. I wish I could teach them every year.

Donald Trump has millions of dollars. Professional athletes have skill and admiration. Hollywood celebrities have fame. None of them have the gift that has been granted to me- that of seeing a microcosm of society pass by each and every year; of watching an incredible miracle take place: that of seeing little kids grow up into young teenagers, with all the angst and pain and doubt and searching for identity that goes along with it.

These children are all just people. Their thoughts and aspirations, though young and hormone-crazed, are no less important than anyone else’s. Their significance as individuals in God’s eyes as well as in my own is not diminished by their size or age. By the same token, they are still children, and they need compassion, understanding and correction when they make mistakes. They need encouragement and support to make good decisions, and they also need to be left alone sometimes to make mistakes in order to learn. It’s difficult to balance those needs; patience and wisdom are helpful in this regard (of which I have a limited supply, as I have learned many times!)

At the beginning of the school year they come in, their eyes wide and their anxiety clearly showing. They are all kind of going, whoa, baby…. “The kids are so BIG here! The lockers stretch up to the ceiling! The classes are so demanding!” As is our custom, we ask students still in the hallway at 8:15 to proceed to homeroom. Some children are just so intimidated though that they are afraid to say that they are lost, and do not remember where their homeroom is. You ask them to go to homeroom, and they just sort of sit there and quiver and then they break down into tears. Usually one of my female colleagues will witness this. She will come along and see me next to a crying little girl or boy, and her maternal instinct kicks in. “Come on now… I will protect you from mean old Mr. Houtchens….”

The end of the school year is an entirely different story. At 8:15 you go through the routine and tell groups of kids in the hallway to go to homeroom, and they sort of just look at you, roll their eyes and laugh, and go back to socializing. That’s when I use my secret weapon. It has taken me years of experience to figure this one out. I say to them, unless you move in three seconds, I am going to start hanging out right here and acting cool. This is absolute anathema to them. Nothing is worse than an adult trying to act cool- nothing. Our idea of cool is so antiquated that to them it is preposterous and embarrassing. Usually it is enough to make them scream and run away. If not, I start dancing the hustle. Doot doo doo doo doo-doo doo doot doot…. This usually does it. One year I had a particularly smart group of students who instead of running away, told me “Welcome to our group Mr. Houtchens!” I was then treated to a conversation of “So he goes… So I go… So he goes… So I go… So he goes… So I go….” Ugh. I think in that one case I finally left and let them have the last laugh, hehe.

The boys at the end of the year, besides socializing are sometimes looking for some stunt to pull off. They require a lot of supervision, an ounce of prevention and all that. They are chasing each other around, hockey checking one another, then running to the teacher to prevent repercussions. It’s sort of a one upsmanship kind of thing. Usually I will respond in kind. “If you are going to play hockey, then you get to sit in the penalty booth. Report to my room and sit in the ‘happy chair’ next to my desk.” After leaving them to sweat for a while they are then treated to a lecture of some sorts, depending on the severity of the incident. If it’s just a small amount of horseplay, I tell them to leave all throttling, maiming, folding, spindling, and mutilating of their friends limbs to after school. If it’s more severe, they get the stern warning. “How badly do you want to sit next to me all… day… long… doing work you really don’t want to do?” You can see the cogs turning and they usually get the message.

This year my students were hard workers in class. They took all their notes, and completed homework assignments, for the most part. I feel we had a sort of a working camaraderie of sorts, which did not go beyond the bounds of professionalism. For example, near Christmastime, I think, I was talking about Christmas break, and how it would be so wonderful to be out of school, and I got out my keys to jingle them. “Ho, ho, ho!” I said. “Merry Christmas!” [jingle, jingle, jingle] One of my students, who sits on the front row (and shall remain nameless) said, “Please don’t do that, Mr. Houtchens! It’s annoying!”
“Oh, you mean this?” [jingle, jingle, jingle]
“YES!”
“So this bothers you?” [jingle, jingle, jingle]
“YES!”
“Now you know how I feel.” [jingle, jingle, jingle]
“Noooo!”
By this time the class was in stitches, and so was this particular student. It became somewhat of a running joke for the rest of the school year. Thereafter, every time that student did something that I considered annoying, the inevitable occurred.
“Hey, Mr. Houtchens, how does it feel to be BALD?”
“Like this.” [jingle, jingle, jingle]

This student began to bring signs to class, to hold up as a form of silent protest, like Wile Coyote. I would say “Get out your notes class… today we are….” And I would look up and see this kid holding up this piece of paper protesting that we did too much work. Stuff like that. That would get ME laughing! This is just one example of how wonderful it was to teach this group of kids this year.

As they leave, I pray for their blessing and protection. That they would grow up safe and well. That perhaps, they would see some small part of God’s love in me, and know that they are truly loved.

Goodbye, Reverend Falwell

With the news of Reverend Falwell’s death, I was shocked and dismayed. A plethora of strong feelings came abruptly to the surface as a result of the time I spent in my college years at Liberty University. As I scoured the net, I read many, many things about Jerry that were not very pleasant. That he and his entourage refused to tip waitresses in restaurants in Lynchburg. That he was a divisive force for doubt, grief and pain to many people. That he encouraged hatred towards others in one respect or another. That he bilked millions out of his followers to establish for himself and his family a lavish lifestyle. That he set himself and his followers up as a group which represented judgment rather than love.

I don’t know. Perhaps these things are true, perhaps not. I guess some of it depends on your own personal perspective of the man. One thing I did realize was that those who passed judgment upon him in their posts (on the ABC news message boards) did the very same thing that they accused him of doing. With that in mind, I posted the following message on those boards:

I attended Liberty University in the early 1980's. After I left, I was, in retrospect, disillusioned with my faith. I felt let down by what I thought would be an incredible faith-building experience which instead turned out to be (in my own opinion) an experience involving the rules of and traditions of men. I have been trying to work this out since I left- I still get the heebie-jeebies in large churches. I had hoped at some time to contact Rev. Falwell to clear the air. When I heard of his death, I prayed asking God to let Jerry know that I forgive him, and to gather, bless and love him wherever he may be. Jerry, I forgive you. Glenn Houtchens

The time has come for judgmentalism to end. One does not need to hold to Christian fundamentalism in order for God’s love to be shed abroad, like a candle on a lamp stand. One does not need to hold to certain denominational (Baptist) theological viewpoints in order to be able to tell right from wrong. Frankly, I have enough issues on my own plate (and I DO have issues) without having to worry about setting other people straight. There is a place for correction; a place for acceptance and love. Are these not both really different aspects of the same thing? May wisdom, discernment and humility guide our actions by the leading of the Holy Spirit of God.

Rest in Peace, Jerry. For good or ill, you have affected us all, and that’s something that not many people often do. I ask God’s blessing upon you as you continue your journey.

Glenn Houtchens

The Steamroller

Today I devote my column to a question that seeks an answer. A steamroller is gathering momentum in American politics. It is an angry juggernaut that is plodding slowly and inexorably towards next November, when the next American president will be elected. That juggernaut is the Democratic Party, and right now they have the momentum.

Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama seem to be the choice that is being plugged by the media. According to ABC, CBS, and NBC they can do no wrong. And truthfully, our sitting president is in the doghouse, for his failure to have vision as commander in chief to predict the consequences of his actions, as well as his inability to communicate his thoughts to the American people. [Forget the fact that nearly all democrats voted for the authorization to go into Iraq, they are riding on the president’s disfavor.]

This brings me to my current dilemma. The single issue that will decide where I cast my vote will not be made from an economic perspective. I don’t care about money, personally (although I hate to see it wasted by those in power.) I don’t care much about the newest liberal philosophy, that of saving (worshipping) our environment by reason of guilt. The single issue that will decide my vote will be that of the value of human life. I have no desire to see our country continue its barbaric practice of throwing babies into the fire, as a sacrifice to the god of convenience as a “right of personal choice.”

I see no contender currently running that has a chance of defeating either of these democratic nominees. Giuliani, McCain, and Romney all in the lead in polls, but they are not sparking the interest of Americans. They are similar, in my own opinion, to the Bob Dole/Jack Kemp ticket years ago that failed to address issues and failed to be innovative in their campaign and message. They were defeated before they even ran.

There is one person that I believe has a chance of defeating the steamroller. The person represents a steep grade of intelligence and communication. That person is Newt Gingrich. Gingrich is an avid student of history, something that seems to be lacking in all current candidates. If he were to take Fred Thompson as running mate, that would make for a great ticket, solidly based on Reagan type conservatives, something the Democrats fear greatly.

Just my thoughts. Here’s the link for the ABC news discussion page:

http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/Politics/comments?type=story&id=3171298

Modern Slavery

[Above- Gulf Coast Marine Institute in 1988; I am at far left, Roscoe is in the white shirt.]

Recently, several states in response to pressure from black constituents, issued apologies for the governmental sponsorship of slavery before the Civil War. One can argue from both sides of this issue. Slavery is wrong. No one alive during this century has been a legal "slave;" no one alive has made another a slave by this definition. Therefore, one can see how it is good on one hand for the state to admit it was wrong (albeit after over 150 years), however, one can see how it is wrong for people to accept responsibility for actions made by ancestors 5 or more generations removed.

There is another form of slavery however, that is real, is happening today, and is a serious threat to our society. I find it oddly disturbing that those who are most vocal about previous transgressions are strangely silent on this issue. I am talking about drug addiction, narcotics specifically.

Those who choose to partake of such things quickly find that their "choice" in the matter quickly vanishes as their brain becomes hardwired for the continued abuse of such drugs in a pattern of addiction. They are no longer the person they once were, for their brain chemistry has changed, permanently. They become hollow shells, seeking only to find their next fix in a nightmare of pavlovian desire.

The year was 1987. I was working at a place called Gulf Coast Marine Institute, in Sarasota, Florida. Juvenile offenders there were given scuba and sailing lessons in order to give them some positive life experiences. This was done in an attempt to reduce the rate at which such persons become permanent wards of the state, in jail. I was part of the educational department there, helping kids keep up with their studies until they graduated from the program.

One of our brightest students was a teenager named Jeff. Jeff was a model participant, making great progress in the program while encouraging his peers to do likewise. He was a leader there. He was intelligent and very friendly and popular, with peers and staff alike. At the same time, break ins were occurring during the night at the institute, and the petty cash box was being systematically raided.

One day there was a staff party planned for after work, and we all met at a restaurant to relax and unwind in a social situation away from the stress of our jobs. Afterwards, Roscoe and I swung by the Institute to drop off some equipment before going home. It was early evening.

While there, we heard some noises coming from the back door. Quietly creeping to the common room, we realized we had caught the perpetrators who were doing the break ins! Using hand signals, I went back to the front office for the camera as our unknown thief continued to use a crowbar to pry open the steel door and lockbolt. Roscoe stood by the door and did a silent 3 count using his fingers. Three... Two... One... Zero! Roscoe pulled the bar and threw open the door (which opened to the inside) and I flashed the camera at some very surprised individuals. Well they took off like a bat out of hell, and we called the police. In retrospect, it was rather foolish for us to do this, as we had no idea whether they were armed with firearms or not.

You have probably guessed by now, that it was Jeff, along with his younger brother. They had been stealing from the petty cash box in order to buy crack cocaine. The police arrested them at their house later that evening. As it turns out, they had threatened to kill their mom unless she allowed them to do crack. I believe they would have. It was an incredibly sad and sobering situation. Jeff had such hope- such promise. It all started with ONE choice, one decision, whereas afterwards the freedom to make a choice was taken away. I have no doubt that Jeff today is either in prison, or dead.

Neal Boortz wants to legalize these drugs, because it would COST LESS to enforce the law, and take away the power and money from those who would smuggle it across the border. Wrong, Neal. Evil does indeed exist in our world, and we must not lose the will to fight it, no matter the cost.

G.Houtchens
armchair coach
amateur historian

Gamers are Lamers

That's a phrase that I learned from a freind of mine that I used to play AD&D with, a nice guy by the name of Mark. I played Everquest for a few years in the early to mid 90's, and it can be very addicting. [Inset- screenshot from the website of my old guild, Triad Continuum] I happened to find a video that illustrates the idea of something quite common with online role playing games called "guild drama," when freindships forged in the game are strained over differing goals or new alliances. For example, players typically fall into one of two camps: those who play for social reasons and those who are powergamers. The socialites like to hang out with freinds whereas the powergamers are driven to accumulate levels (power) and wealth in the form of high end items. Thus, a natural schism occurs after a certain amount of time that causes guilds (groups of players banded together for a common purpose) to split up. It's an interesting sociological phenomenon.

The video is not set in Everquest, but instead in WoW, the World of Warcraft. It is purposefully over dramatic, which I find amusing, since even though overblown, it still illustrates the types of things that happen in MMORPG's (mass multiplayer online role playing games.) I personally feel that writing is a better medium than movies, since the imagination is more actively engaged. Note: This movie would be rated as PG as it contains some offensive language, but not alot more than what one would expect from Disney nowadays. Thus, I will not imbed it onto my blogsite, but will put a link if you are interested in seeing it. If you are under 16, you will need to get your parents permission. The title of the movie is Jimmy: The World of Warcraft Story. I hope you find it as amusing as I did. "I'M A CHARGIN' MY FIREBALL!" lol

Jimmy: The World of Warcraft Story

Serious Hollywood Horror

Here is an attempt to post my first video link. Hope I can get it to work. When I saw this, I began laughing so hard that I must have turned 20 shades of red. I began pounding my desk and when it was over my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. My dogs wondered what was wrong with me. I can still barely type as I try to get this link to work. Click below and get ready for some spine chilling thrills. By the way, you will not understand the nuance unless you are over 40 years of age. Make sure your sound is turned up. Click the link and enjoy.