Professor Diaries: Page 298

File Under: “Castro’s Amazing Powers”

After describing the Bay of Pigs as a battle between the US marines and Cuban army, the student continues, “Later Castro and Stalin got together to trade because the US would no longer trade with Castro.”

Professor Diaries: Page 266

File under: “Sadamarama” and “A New History of the Middle East”

“Saddam Hussein, the Saudi Arabian president who is famous for being a liar and not being a man of his word and a liar as well had over the past denied to the United Nations his ownership of missiles but will not let anyone into Saudi Arabia to look for the missiles. Saddam actually only ruled part of Saudi Arabia because everyone definitely did not agree on his views.  During recent years the US military has gone into Saudi Arabia and Iraq and his workers and followers gave up really easily.”

Professor Diaries: Page 255

File under: “A New History of the Middle East”

“This slide is showing what happened during the Iranian Hostage Crisis.  Since students were trying to overthrow the government and get the Shah back, they had hostages.”

Professor Diaries: Page 235

File under: “A New History of the Middle East”

“This slide is showing what happened during the Iranian Hostage Crisis.  Since students were trying to overthrow the government and get the Shah back, they had hostages.”

Professor Diaries: Page 231

File Under: “Sadamarama” and “A New History of the Middle East”

After correctly describing Operation Desert Shield, Operation Desert Storm and the Powell Doctrine, the student’s essay went on to discuss the 1990s, mentioning “Saddam didn’t get along with the Kurdistanians.”

Professor Diaries: Page 224

File under:  “Sadamarama” and “A New History of the Middle East”

"Sadam Hussen was a bad man! When Sadam was trying to invade Saudi Arabia, the United States sent troops to prevent them from invading Saudi Arabia. After Sadam was found hiding he was hung. “

Professor Diaries: Page 156

File Under “Secret History of Cuba” and “Google Bernardo Benes, Please” and “Who Advises these Presidents?”

“The secret missions were missions made to get  people out of Castro’s power. The Operation was called Operation Boatlift , where they would go to Cuba, and pick people up. At first the picked up the women and children, then they just picked up everyone who wanted to go.  The children would be adopted. President Carter was in charge of these secret missions.”

Professor Diaries: Page 190

File Under “Secret History of Cuba”

“The Bay of Pigs was a CIA backed attack from the sea and air on Cuba.”

Professor Diaries: Page 180

File Under: “Finding Osama” and “A New History of the Middle East”

“Osama bin Laden was found in a burial grave, hiding from the US  CIA. They went to Afghanistan looking for him because the US wanted to start a war with him. Iraq then split into three parts – North South and Baghdad.  Osama bin Laden was responsible for this.”

Professor Diaries: Page 175

File Under “A New History of China”

“ After the Chinese Civil War, Taiwan decided to go back to the mainland.”

Professor Diaries: Page 170

File Under “Secret History of Cuba”

“The Pedro Pan Act was where hundreds of thousands of kids from Cuba were brought to the United States. This had a direct effect on Cuba.”

Professor Diaries: Page 163

File under “Sadamarama” and “A New History of the Middle East”

“In an attempt to escape US capture, Sadaam Hussein went into hiding. The US invaded Iran in search of him and he was found hiding in a ground hole. He was then taken back to the US and put on trial.”

Professor Diaries: Page 160

File under “Iran is Everywhere” and “Secret History of Cuba”

“Hummad Admadinajad was seen back in the day with Castro and we really didn’t think anything about it.”

Professor Diaries: Page 156

File under “Talibanarama”  and “Who Advises these Presidents?”

“George W. Bush ordered the Talastan to turn over Osama bin Laden.”

Professor Diaries: Page 153

File Under: “History Unwritten”

After correctly identifying the key events in the War on Terror terror, the student writes that “millions of troops since then have been sent in order to find Osama and to”

Her answer stopped there.

Professor Diaries: Page 150

File under “Talibanarama”  and “Who Advises these Presidents?”

“During the Nixon lost years as president, he tried to get the Taliban prisoners of war released. He had no success.”

Professor Diaries: Page 145

File Under “Camelot: Not” “Iran is Everywhere” and “Who Advises these Presidents?”

“This picture shows Kennedy.  Kennedy really did not know what he was doing. He was different from any other presidents. In this slide we see him with the Shah of Iran, returning from cancer treatments.”

Professor Diaries: Page 141

File Under “Iran is Everywhere” and “Who Advises these Presidents?”

In neatly uptilting writing she summarizes the 9/11 attack, ending her essay with a turning point in his leadership when George  Bush "called the president of Iran to see if he had heard or seen bin Laden.”

Professor Diaries: Page 132

File Under “Random Saddamizations” and “Talibanarama”

"On September 11, 2001 the World Trade Center was attacked by the Taliban. The US goes into Iraq looking for its leader, Osama bin Laden, They threaten the Taliban by saying “give us Osama or we will send your women to school.” 

Professor Diaries: Page #123

File Under “Random Saddamizations” and “Talibanarama”

“On Sept 11 planes crash into the Twin Towers. President Bush calls it a terrorist attack from the Taliban and Osama bin Laden. The US declares war on Iraq and sends troops to fight over there.”

Professor Diaries: Page 101

File Under  “Mariel Boatlift: The Untold Story” and “Please Google Bernardo Benes”

“Buendiro (spell?) is sent to Panama, where he is sent by the CIA to go to Cuba to bring back prisoners from the Bay of Pigs. Prisoners line up for miles to be set free.”

Another student writes...“A man met with Fidel to discuss the terms of releasing the US hostages.” After that non-specific, unsupported opening, the student wrote “Ronald Reagan,” then crossed the name out, leaving the rest of the page blank.

Professor Diaries: Page 74

“This is a slide showing the World Trace Center in America being attacked  by a man named Bin Laden. Bin Laden is from Afghanistan. The United States was furious and our main goal was to go to war and find Bin Laden and kill him.  After awhile we found him in a spider hole which he had been hiding in for days. The US hung him while he was saying a prayer.”

File Under:  Random Saddamizations

Professor Diaries: Tough Decisions

“Actually, the US has never nuked another country which also has a McDonalds.”

File Under: “Can I mark it wrong if it’s right?”

Professor Diaries: Page 18

“This slide shows European recovery after the war, thanks to the Truman Doctrine which got all the countries together to help each other if they needed help or just to help everyone help each other out. The Marshall Plan was to just attack anyone who was thinking about attacking the United States." 

File under “Cheerleader History” and “Bush Doctrine” and “How the Cold War Probably Could’ve Been Fought More Cheaply”

Professor Diaries: Page #11; Volumize It

  Getting to the Root of the Matter

Blue Class #19 – (Notes: Never missed a class)

In even round words she summarizes the limitations faced by women in the post WW2 suburbs, then shifts her narrative to a turning point, “Women got tired of doing it all, unpaid, and weren’t happy. They were prescribed volume to deal with their unspeakable unhappiness and frustration….” She finished with an eloquent summary of the thesis and impact of the book, Feminine Mystique and “the problem that has no name.”

She makes no more mistakes in her other half-page essays, filling the page so completely she writes up and over the margins, circling key words,  proofreading herself.

Blue Class #1 – (Notes: Not sure who this guy is)

In tiny letters he identifies the same images as Blue #19, and my eye pauses when he identifies the Feminine Mystique as the “problem that no one knows”  written by “ a lady at Duke University. It was a a book on women’s suffrage.” 

He neglects to mention valium, which makes me think wasn’t there when I started to belt out the Rolling Stones “Mother’s Little Helper.”

Camp Mommy - Day 3 (Weave and Shake)

Today is Zoe’s choice, and she chooses Skate World.

We arrive at 12:30.

$26 and seven minutes later, we  are all tied up and ready to roll.

Zoe glides off on rollerblades.

Zack slips and slides next to me as I stroll him around the carpeted oval which surrounds the slippery rink.

“What’s that? “He asks, pointing at one of the glow in dark space themed shapes that litter the  indigo inky dark carpeted oval.

I lean over, thankful to not be in a dress, “That one? A comet. They come and go. Cool?”

He nods, still staring at the carpet.

I look around, then find Zoe perched at the same spot she was at when she ditched us a few minutes before.

“And what’s that?” Zack asks, pointing to another carpet shape, now sitting or more actually sprawling on the  carpet.

“That’s a galaxy."

 He nods, then points at  other shapes.

"And that’s a planet, and that’s a nebula.”

He nods then keeps staring at the carpet.

If the music hadn’t have been so loud, maybe I would have taken the time to explain outer space and the Big Bang and the connectedness of time and gravity and space but I was distracted by protecting my son from crashers who flew off the rink to the carpeted oval where he was now camped out.

As a danc-y Michael Jackson song died down, Zack  stood up, looked around and grabbed my hand,  “Let’s weave.”

I wholeheartedly give him what he asked for, pulling him along the next part of the circle, passed the beginning part, and halfway around again, cheering him for his mild efforts , letting him skate on my left, then my right, never letting him go as he slipped and slid around over comets and the such.

Zoe caught up to us.

“I want to weave!” he tells her.

She nods, then looks at me sadly, eyebrows up.

“So do I. Is that OK?”

“I can’t weave with both of you!” I half-shout over Hannah Montana. “You can hold yourself up. Follow us.”

“Let’s  WEAVE!” he commands, she nods, and I beckon them to follow me, dancing through and around the people crashing on the carpet, camped on the corners,  past the Moms texting and the teens pouting.

As we finish the second round, I ask, “Again?”

Zoe  shakes her head.

Zack says, “Weave!”

I turn to Zoe. “You don’t look like you want to skate anymore.”

She shakes her head.

Zack stomps his skate. “I want to WEAVE!!”

I point to an empty spot in a nearby corner. “Do you want to wait there while we weave?”

The music dies down, Zoe and Zack look at each other, then back at me.

“He said leave, not weave. Can we go?”

At 1:02, we pull into the parking lot at Steak'n'Shake.

Camp Mommy - Day 2 (Roller Coasters and Clean Floors)

On our second day together I took the kids to Target to spend their $15 gift cards.

She picks out cute sandals. 

He picks out a Roller Coaster set. I buy myself a diet coke and a Peppermint Patty.

We spend the rest of the day building the Roller Coaster, and spent the evening watching the gears we made pull the chain we made over the scaffolding we built, over and over until the batteries died and a chain pulled off and a  meltdown caused by the imagined destruction and disappearance of a tiny black pin sized piece which popped off and flew under the sofa.

Thankfully, the maid came yesterday so the floor under the sofa was shiny and bare – Zack reached under and found the rogue piece without having to move a single sock.

Once the piece was restored, he rubbed his eyes, stretched his back and asked me to please put the roller coaster up in his room, which of course I did because the living room floor looked so damn good.

As I lay falling asleep that night I realized I forgot dinner entirely.

Camp Mommy: Day 1 (Playing Cuba)

 On our first day of the whole week we will be stuck together, I take Zoe Zack and our six year old friend to the movies at the mall .

 They quietly shake me down for $20 in tickets and $20 in candy,  then plant me in a row high in the theatre where they abandon me (sober and alone) with a chipmunk nightmare of a movie.

Lacking a better plan, I take the kids to lunch and to the grocery, then back to our house where they are welcome to play as long as they don’t get in my way.

They sprawl across the living room on mats and pillows and play Life, then abandon it while I clean toys and socks and shoes from up around them.

They play cars and tracks and admire Legos in Zack’s room while I pull a load of laundry out, put a load in, and hang a load up.

They play Halloween costume fashion show, then quit that, turning it into American Idol, then America’s Next Top Model, then something else which involved Zack licking his pinkies and running them along his eyebrows.

 I  clean the  counters, put away orphan groceries, unload the dishwasher, load the dishwasher, clean the sink, then wipe down the  counters again, intoxicated by Clorox.

They play hide and seek until one of them attempts a wildly improvised rule change.

I sweep from the door down the hallway, moving sofas, moving tables, moving backpacks and shoes, sweeping sand and paperclips and broken crayons into a huge pile.

In a rare stroke of genius, I move the trashcan to the trash, sweep it up uneventfully and move the trashcan back to the kitchen.

They settle at the table, lured by blank paper, scissors, glue, and tape.

 I mop around them,  pausing for a minute to make them a each chocolate shake with the “Magic Bullet” that G-rated Santa brought me which turned out to be a blender not an adult toy.

While they color and sip, I mop my cloroxy smelling concoction under and around them,  down the hall, then back into the kitchen, tuning in and out of the chattering giggles of their table coloring game.

Zoe was the Mom, Zack and our friend were the kids. They made her cards and said sweet things to her, she said sweet things back them, and told them stories in a delightfully Snow White manner.

I was standing in the kitchen wringing out my bleach-filled mop, I hear  Zoe say, “Mom, he spilled a shake!” followed by silence.

 I keep wringing the mop, admiring the clean floor, readying to attack it again, one more around, from the front door to the back, then back to the kitchen again.

The silence continues.

“He really spilled a shake,” our friend says, pointing at a sprawled cup surrounded by a lumpy pool of chocolate shake contained in the boat of a wadded up piece of white paper.

“Your Mom can handle this sweetheart,” I answer, pointing to Zoe, being the cool hip Mom who played the game along with them. 

Zoe smiled back at me. “That’s right, I’m the Mom. You're the maid. We’re playing Cuba."

The 30 Eclair Affair

I was sitting on the sofa, holding my less-new leather journal -- hugging it actually -- staring into space when he interrupted my ruminations with  “Please, will you play cars and tracks with me?” in a tone that implies I might not have heard him the first few times.

Yes, I nod, even though I don’t want to play with him, his cars or his new tracks.

I don’t want to get up, I don’t want to have fun, I don’t want to do anything at all actually, and I’ve been this way for weeks. I’ve spent the last month ordering take-out and watching On Demand, coughing, sneezing, alternately dayquiled and nyquiled, holding steamy coffeemugs to my stuffed up head.

Still, I say yes to my son, mostly because I read in a fantastic parenting book that “no” should be used sparingly.

 Example: “Can we go to McDonald’s?” “Yes, but not today.” And:  “Can I have a sleepover with Friend X?” “Yes, when you are 13, if she invites you and you still want to.” And: “Can I join a rock band?” “Absolutely, good luck, that sounds like fun. Definitely learn to read music first.”  Also: “Can I build a roller coaster in my room?” “Absolutely, when you learn how. What kind of engineering should you study?”

Zack, well trained to expect a conditional and unsatisfactory “yes” puts one pleading hand on my thigh, leans his kindergarten sized self over so his long curly eyelashes almost touch my glasses. “When?”

Not saying no (at least, not verbally) I shake my head. “I’m not sure, I just want to finish writing this… I  can’t stop and play in the middle of this train of thought, but when I’m through….”

He understands and nods. “Are you writing about Zoe putting my electric race cars on her head --- and getting them tangled in her hair?”

I shake my head.

“Are you writing about how at first you kept eating that piece carrot cake instead of going to help her while the wheels kept running and spinning and tangling into her hair?”

“Should I write about that?”

He nods his head, then adds, “and remember you said you were going to write about how you ate the entire box of  eclairs on Christmas.”

I start to shake my head no, then remember to save the no. “Yes,  I will. And they  were mini-eclairs”

Satisfied in his mission, he takes his hand off my thigh and straightens up.  “OK Mom, take all the time you need, then come play with me. Take two hours.”

“Thank you. I might need it.”

“Or, you can just take one hour.” 

“Thank you, thank you for understanding. I never know how long the writing will take. So thank you.”

 “I understand Mom. I’d rather you came to my room and played with me sooner than later, but I absolutely understand,” he tells me, patting my thigh again and kissing me on the cheek before backing away.

He heads back to his room, tap dancing down the hall while humming a Lady Gaga song.

Relieved to find a window of time alone to write, I re-open my journal and flip to a new page which I   title, “The 30 Éclair Affair.”

Then I closed my journal and got up off the sofa, lured away by the generosity of Zack’s patience.

Winter Solstice

What is sweet
about December is that
the darkness again
ceases its surge
and pauses.

And then -- every time --
(like hope)
( like faith)
(like love)
the silent sunlight
wins again
stretching longer into the
Sweet December days.

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Sent from my iPhone

Zoe turning 9

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Sent from my iPhone