Our little visitor

Our little visitor
Originally uploaded by bostonian71

We recently took care of the guinea pig at my wife's preschool for a couple of weeks. By the end of his stay, he had learned two things:

-- Lettuce comes from plastic bags, which make a distinctive noise when they're opened.
-- If he started squealing at the sound of a plastic bag -- any plastic bag -- being opened, eventually one of us would cave him and give him some lettuce. Yes, he trained us well.

The guinea pig also had the entertaining habit of jumping up onto the top of his cardboard "house", then jumping off and running inside, only run back out a moment later. I once watched him do this five times in a row.

Sadly, he is back at school, and things are a little less amusing around the house. On the plus side, we have our dining room table back; if it weren't for the fact we have no place else to put a guinea pig, I suspect we would have one of our own by now.

An education newbie

The other day I got to go to a professional training day hosted by my wife's school. A couple of months ago I started working one afternoon a week, so I had credentials of a sort. Still, though, I felt a bit of a fraud among all these teachers with so much more experience and education. So I fully intended to lay low.

All I can say is, someone Upstairs has a sense of humor.

My wife's director kicks off the training with some announcements about scheduling, presenters, and other routine stuff. The last one, though, is different. "Now you know, at these things we always give out prizes. This wand," she says, waving one she was holding, "will make you an empress for the day, and confers the right to cut in line at the bathroom!"

With that, she asks everyone to stand up. "OK, if you've been in the field for five years or less, please sit down." As people retake their seats, she keeps upping the number until three people are left. The winner is a woman who's been teaching for forty years, and the director steps down from the stage to give her the prize.

"I want to give this to someone who's a new teacher," the woman says, as the director approached.

"Don't worry," the director replies, as she hands over the wand. "We're taking care of that next."

Taking care of that next, I thought. Wait, that means ... uh-oh.

"Would everyone who's been teaching for four years or less, please stand up."

About ten or fifteen people, including me, stand up.

"Three years or less ... two years or less ... new this year ..."

Three or four people are still standing.

"Six months or less ..."

Now it's down to me and one other woman. Maybe she just got hired six weeks ago ...

"Two months or less."

The other woman sits.

Oh, my God.

I crack up. The other teachers crack up. The director, as she hands me my wand, is trying not to crack up. And my wife, who was out of the room at the time, cracks up when she hears the story and sees my wand, a pale green sparkly wand with Tinkerbell's face on it that I have to carry around for the rest of the day.

I'd like to say that the wand now occupies a place of honor on the mantel. As it turns out, though, the daughter of whoever bought the wands thinks that they belong to her, so I will send mine back to school with my wife. Just as well -- pale green isn't really my color.

Gee, thanks for the ego boost, kid

The other day my sister-in-law called and said her 9-year-old son wanted to talk to me about video games. Since my knowledge of video games is way less than his, I was a little puzzled but took the phone anyway.

"My friend and I have been planning this video game all week and I want to know how to make it," he said.

"Uh ..." I said.

"It has eighteen levels, and a monster made out of fire that you can only kill if you get this water pump and shoot its arms off --"

"Er, that's nice ..."

"And I looked at this site about video games but it didn't really explain things so can you tell me how to make a game?"

I hated to disillusion him, but I had no choice. "Well, to be honest, at this point you probably know more about making video games than I do."

"Oh." A pause. "That's really sad!"

Fortunately he then proceeded to tell me about the cool fantasy book series he was reading, so all was apparently forgiven.

Adoption update

It took us forever, but we finally got our act together a couple of weeks ago and submitted our autobiography and a slew of other documents to our adoption agency. Naturally I then got an e-mail from someone there saying there was one more form that needs to be done (which got added to the packet after we'd had our initial meeting with them). I was planning to e-mail our social worker about it, but she beat us to the punch and called tonight to say that she can go over it with us ...

... when she comes next Thursday ...

... for the home study visit.

Freakout. Starts. NOW.

Watching Game 1 of the World Series right now ...

... and it's Red Sox 13, Rockies 1. In the sixth.

Life is good.

A day well spent

A recent and rare day off my day job:

6 a.m. The wife and I get up, shower, get dressed and have breakfast.

7:55 a.m. We pack up lunches and the laptop, get into my wife's car and head to her preschool. The plan is for me to spend a little time meeting the kids in her class before I head off to the library to do some work.

8:00 - 10:15 a.m. Wind up staying for all of choice time, during which I hear the story of Jonah and the whale according to a couple of boys ("A storm's coming, and Jonah's afraid ... then the whale ate Jonah for lunch!") I also play a game where two girls hold up little plastic animals, and I give them names, beginning with Fred but quickly going to silly names like Jehosophat.

10:15 a.m. - noon. Finally go to the library so I can check e-mail and do freelance work.

Noon - 12:30 p.m. Have a quick lunch with the wife.

12:30 - 2:00 p.m. Move into one of the empty classrooms and do some work there. Am invited by one of the kids to join them for nap, but tell him there isn't a mat for me.

2:00 p.m. After nap, the same kid pokes his head in and says, "Want to play?"

2:01 p.m. - 3:30 p.m. I play happily with the small group of afternoon kids until they're all picked up.

Final output for the day: a little bit of work and a lot of much-needed fun. Just what the doctor ordered.

A quiz for intelligent people

Got this test today via e-mail forward:

~snip~

This is a test for Intelligent People. I have determined that you qualify.

The following short quiz consists of 4 questions and will tell you if you are qualified to be a professional. Scroll down for each answer. The questions are NOT that difficult. But don't scroll down UNTIL you have answered the question!

1. How do you put a giraffe into a refrigerator?










The correct answer is: Open the refrigerator, put in the giraffe, and close the door. This question tested whether you tend to do simple things In an overly complicated way.

2. How do you put an elephant into a refrigerator?











Did you say, Open the refrigerator, Put in the elephant, And close the Refrigerator? Wrong Answer.

Correct Answer: Open the refrigerator, take out the giraffe, Put in the elephant and close the door. This tested your ability to think through the repercussions of your previous actions.

3. The Lion King is hosting an animal conference. All the animals attend....except one. Which animal does not attend?












Correct Answer: The Elephant. The elephant is in the refrigerator. You just put him in there.

This tested your memory.

Okay, even if you did not answer the first three questions correctly, You still have one more chance to show your true abilities.

4. There is a river you must cross but it is used by crocodiles, and you do not have a boat. How do you manage?





















Correct Answer: You jump into the river and swim across. Have you not been listening? All the crocodiles are attending the animal conference. This tested whether you learn quickly from your mistakes.

According to Anderson Consulting Worldwide, around 90% of the professionals they tested got all questions wrong, but many preschoolers got several correct answers. AndersonConsulting says this conclusively disproves the theory that most professionals have the brains of a four-year-old.

~snip~

I got two out of four questions right, and only because I started catching on to their approach after the second question. Does that mean I have the brains of a two-year-old?