Let The Debriefing Begin!

I know very few to none are going to read this full mess, a few more will skim it, and most will just completely ignore it. But getting people to read has never been the point of this blog. I've always found writing is my choice medium for collecting and clarifying my thoughts, and this is no different. So, whether you care or not, let the debriefing begin.

My life this summer has been like an Ibsen play. The author feels no need to secure a happy ending, but rather likes to throw people into situations and see how they react, regardless of what strings must be pulled. As soon as I find something I can enjoy and rejoice in, the Universe decides to play a malicious game of keep away with my happy. Today was my last day teaching these kids, since tomorrow is a "fun day" where they'll have rope courses and stuff like that. I was pretty happy about being done, as this job has been a strain on my patience and confidence in the future. But more on that later.

Once I came home, it was supposed to be simple. An easy night of relaxing and catching up with friends across the Ocean. I don't know what I was thinking. Why would I want to ever make things simple for myself? I turned on my computer, and it freaked out. I've had issues with computers before, but never like this. A program on my computer "AntiVir Solution Pro" was telling me that almost every program file on my computer was infected. I didn't remember installing such a program, as I already have triple redundancy in my computer security (Norton, Symantec, and this thing called CA Security Suite), so I don't know why I would have downloaded a trial version of a 4th. But considering this "spyware program" wouldn't let me go on the internet (I opened Mozilla Firefox, and I was told that Internet Explorer was blocking a potentially malicious sight. Very fishy), I suspected all was not well.

Literally every program was reported as "infected". I tried to open up the backup program for my external harddrive, and it was blocked. I tried to open up the in-house system restore feature, and again, was blocked. Could not open a single program. I couldn't even wipe my hard drive and reboot the system. Fully paralyzed. As I slowly realized I had gotten cluster-f*cked by a bogus virus scanning program, I had to laugh. Laughter slowly developed in to weeping, and weeping took a left turn at punching things and floored it down swearing boulevard. So I tried using my mom's computer to look up how badly I had screwed myself. I found several sights with unhelpful suggestions, recommending I do things like go on the internet and download another virus scanning program (uh uh uh, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, and I might as well bend over and...well, yeah). The solutions that didn't require me to download things, had instruction that followed something like this:

1. Find this hidden folder that is called something completely different in Vista. We don't know what it's called, so good luck.
2. Find this hidden file that's a string of random letters and numbers. Every time the virus infects a computer, it's a different string of random letters, so we can't tell you an exact file name. Oh, and all the other important system files in that folder are also named by a string of random letters. You can try this, but we can't guarantee success.
3. Since you probably couldn't do the first two steps, you might as well bend over...and unplug your computer because it will never work again.

If it wasn't for Safe Mode, I wouldn't be able to write this post, so thank God (who can't go faster than the Speed of Light) for that. I think this is also a sign that I should take the plunge and just go ahead and upgrade to Windows 7.

So ignoring those 4 hours that were delivered unto the Gods of Futility as temporal sacrifice, it was a pretty good day today. As I said, it was relatively easy. I had decided that I deserved an easy day for once. So we played with bubbles. And learned. Always learning.

After some 11th hour planning, and an ingenious suggestion from Angela, I settled on showing the kids how to make square bubbles.

Square Bubbles! Impossible you might say. I had the exact same reaction. But observe how I speak the truth.

And,

Huzzah! True, not what I imagined when I heard Square Bubbles (I was thinking of those crazy bubbles Spongebob blew), but rather mind blowing. Kudos.

But it wasn't just a "blow bubbles" day. They had to learn science. That's how this whole teaching thing goes. I explained about the micell structure of soap, and the weird polarity things that accompany it (something I only remember hearing off hand in 7th grade). I also went over why the sphere is a geometrically favorable shape (ratio of volume to surface area). It was a great lesson to reinforce somethings we have gone over, as well as teach them something practical (why soap works the way it does).

With the oldest group, E group, we did a Mythbusters experiment based on the Humpty Dumpty myth. The task was: put humpty dumpty together again. I suppose I am learning, because I had the foresight to tell them to go out side to do the experiment. I still have much to learn, as I should have rephrased the instruction "smash it against the ground".

One group was able to successfully put the egg back together again, while the others made a terrible mess. Here's the reassembled egg:

A little more tape than I would have liked, but they did it. And were very pleased with themselves. Pictures cannot be posted for certain reasons.

And I give you my pen-ultimate shirt pocket:

And because I decided I would give myself an easy day, my pocket is empty. But my heart is full. I challenge someone to come up with something cornier.

My last class of this program had 3 kids in it because it was one of the small groups to begin with, and many had already gone home:

And as I sat there watching my kids have the time of their life with nothing more than a bucket of soapy water, I started mentally debriefing, pondering, and thinking, as I must always do towards the end of a project.

I think it's fair to say that I've grown a lot in the past 7 weeks of this program. I had never worked with kids in this capacity before, always opting for work with the elderly as my community service of choice. And though there are many similarities (frequency of bowel movements, short attention spans, the smell), they differ greatly. I've learned how to command the attention of distracted, ADD little children, if only for a few moments of the day (talk loudly and be the most distracting thing in the room). I've learned how to deal with them on an individual basis (it's very important to go down to their level, and meet them at their height). I can definitely say that I've picked up important job (and life) skills from this experience. Though I have much to learn and to improve upon, the task managing children no longer seems so daunting. And after this experience, I know I will make a great father. Someday. I do find it odd that after through this program, I began to feel protective of some of these kids. I take it as a good sign. Papa Bear, that whole complex.

But what's more striking than how I've grown, is how I've come to view myself. I've always struggled with viewing myself as the appropriate age. As a young kid, I always felt much older than everyone else. Perhaps it was because I was well behaved and didn't do the immature things that make teachers cry (experience), but I felt too old for my classmates. As I grew old, this feeling inverted, and I struggled to view myself as old. And when I finally turned 18, went off to college and became "independent", I still felt like I was in middle school, trying to figure out how this whole "switching classes for each subject" thing worked.

Up until this summer, I'd found it hard to think of myself as an adult, and a member of the workforce. My first job, working in an engineering lab, did nothing to cultivate my personal maturity, as I worked under a pile of grad students, researchers, post docs, and a PI in the insular womb of academia. Even working on my own research project did nothing for me. But this summer has changed a lot. I feel like an adult.

I look back and I'm pleasantly surprised by what I was able to accomplish. I proposed and planned my own curriculum. I conducted 5 hours of classes each day on my own, following my own lesson plans. This and the many little things along the way have changed my personal perception. Which is a good thing.

I've been mentally planning the timeline of the next few years for some time now. After Yale, let's say another 4 years of grad school. Getting a job, getting married, getting a family, that whole bit. It all seemed so grown up, and so imminent. And it honestly terrified me. Aside from the legal reasons (and a whole host of other ones), I've never touched alcohol because it seemed too mature. I didn't feel like I was anywhere near being at a point in my life where it didn't seem odd and out of place. And while I'm still too young for some of the things I've mentioned above, and I have much left to grown into, for the first time in my life I feel on track. Not mired down by social retardation, by keeping even with the pack. It feels good.

And here's my final thought for the night:

I've also found the converse is true. This program has made me feel very young. I think many scientists become jaded by academia, since it indeed becomes much harder and much more abstract. Unless you're the type that really really likes numbers (not me), science can seem like a chore at times. But this experience has reintroduced me to some of the fundamental wonders of the natural world. Magnets are still awesome, and still seem like black magic to me. Baking Soda and Vinegar will forever make me giggle. And bubbles, well, they're bubbles, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I'm sure as I become busier and more entrenched in this whole living thing, that I'll lose sight of what I type here. As I dive deeper into my engineering courses in the fall, I'll forget how awesome even the simplest circuit is, or how a high pitched squeal of joy can light up a room. But in this rare moment where I have time to think, debrief and ponder, I can appreciate the wholeness of this experience, the complexity of emotion and sentiment.

The aging of eternal youth. I think that sort of sums it up for now. Ah, look at the time. I must be going, as I must still go to work in the morning. So that will be it for now, readership. I know most won't make it this far in the post, and I'd even be so cocky that no one will bother with these last few sentences. But that's perfectly fine. They've served their purpose.

I Fancy Myself A Modern Day Robin Hood

I've done a lot for these kids and for this job. Money, time have all been doled out in copious amounts to educate these kids. Through all the crudola these putzes have given me, I still find myself wanting to give more. Like a mother bird gathering food for her fledglings, I can hear their unspoken bleating cries calling out for further stimulation. The need to give unto them is so strong I would do anything for them. I would even steal for them.

I continued my sound unit with the remaining kids who did not get it yesterday. I decided to nix the whole letting them make the Screaming Cup thing, since I was beginning to hear the shrieking everywhere I went (I actually saw one of my students at the market, and he snuck up behind me and did the cup thing. Not cool, dude. But I probably would have done the same thing). Previously, I had just given them a simple drinking straw to play with, but I felt like stepping it up.

You can make a slide trombone version of the reed straw by taking a Slurpee straw as the reed, and a Big Gulp straw (which is just slightly larger) as the slide. It works remarkably well, and has always been one of my favorite experiments.

When I usually do it, I only need a few for myself and a friend or two, so grabbing an extra straw as I walk out of 7-11 isn't a big deal. But when you have to acquire straws for 40 something straws, it becomes a bit of a logistical issue.

My sister drove me to work that day and stopped of at 7-11 with me. I had planned this maneuver out the night before, and after synchronizing watches, the operation commenced.

I sent my sister down one side of the store where the food is, as a distraction, to buy something for lunch. Meanwhiles, I snuck around the other end to where the Slurpee and soda machines were. I first raided the Slurpee straws, grabbing everyone they had and stuffing them in my pockets. I next moved to the Big Gulp station, and grabbed as many straws as I could. One of those two handed jobs (ha). As I met my sister at the counter (since it would look suspicious if I walked in and didn't buy anything), I realized a complication. I was trying to hide my pilfered straws below the level of the counter, but that was rather difficult since I had to hold the bundle with two hands, hunched over to keep the straws at the appropriate level. I became self-conscious of my suspicious posture and I began to panic. So I tried some inconspicuous whistling. But in my panic I had forgotten I don't know how to whistle. So as I stood at the counter, spitting more than anything else, I turned and realized that there was a mirror right behind me, revealing to the cashier what I was hiding. The jig was up. I straightened up, waved my bundle of straws at the cashier, and rushed out of the store before anything could be said.

The children are beginning to sense that school is beginning to wind down, as each day they are becoming more and more unmanageable. I think they've been squished together to long, as the forced interaction with their peers is starting to strain their relations and cause tension. Today was a day of drama. Many hurt feelings, much crying. Several kids were pulled from my class throughout the day to go through some conflict resolution stuff. The ones who weren't, I had to deal with myself.

I don't really know how to deal with most crying children. As an example, I had C group in the afternoon, and I had them cut something, so one of my kids, S-----, was using the scissors. At one point in the class, one of the kids came over and pulled on my shirt, and told me that S----- was crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said F---- was being mean to her. I caled Faith over and asked her what was going on. Apparently F---- came over to her and asked "can I have the scissors to give back to Mr. Sakimoto" (by F----'s recounting). It didn't sound right, but since S----- wouldn't say a word, I had to assume Faith was telling the truth. But knowing how S----- and a lot of these kids are, it wasn't impossible. For a lot of these cases, my first instinct is to just tell the kids to suck it up. Some of them are so damn sensitive, that I have a hard time imagining them functioning in the real world. Some of them just need to grow a pair.

I also want to throw things at most of them. These kids have no retention, at all. I'm not talking about the material, but simple instructions. I tell them everyday "if we cannot get through the class without interruptions, we will not do the experiment" to which they all perk up and straighten up. I tell them "if you keep talking, we will run out of time, and you will just sit at your desk for the rest of the time, while everyone else does the experiment". This usually gets them to quiet down. Until the minute had moves another tick, or I start to talk, which they take as a sign to start talking as well. And it's impossible to get their attention. I flash the lights on and off, I yell, sometimes I just sit there until the talking stops. I really want to throw things at some of them, because more often than not, it is a few brats who can't keep quiet, who can't keep still, and who are ruining it for the rest of the students.

I feel bad about large group discipline. I always hated being punished as a group in school because the offender was never me. I was always quiet, respectful and well behaved, yet I would have to sit in the cafeteria at recess with my classmates because Chris couldn't stop himself from throwing food. And I can see the same frustration with some of my better kids. One girl, A----, is at times a little rambunctious, but always quiets down and pays attention the first time I ask her. But her classmates cannot. And I see the selfsame pain, frustration and fear that she won't get to do the experiment. I've learned ways to sort out the good ones and make sure they are rewarded for their outstanding behavior, but as the day wears on, and I become more stressed, agitated, and aggravated, it become harder and harder. And so it goes as it goes.

I've been told many many times before that children have an amazing, unhindered and unfettered creativity (watching too many TED talks). But I have yet to see it.

I decided to do something ambitious with my older kids with the last few days of this program. I love the show Mythbusters. Sure, it lacks the rigor of true scientific testing, and I find many faults with their methodology, but I love their spirit, and it's some of the best television out there. And I had tested the waters before pitching this idea. I had talked to many of the kids and asked if they had seen the show and knew what it was about, and many of them said yes, and seemed really excited to do a Mythbusters like experiment. So we went ahead with it.

The first day I decided I would just introduce the project, and have them brainstorm and come up with original ideas for myths. It was a struggle getting them to understand what a myth was. I tried to explain as best as I could, and gave many examples (like "you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar"), and I explained that it had to be something we could test and find out an answer to, but at the end of the brainstorming, many of the kids came up to me with lists like:

1. Egyptians
2. Zeus
3. Zombie

And then I tried to explain that it was like a story that you had to test to see if it was true. And I got lists that looked like these:

1. What if you went to the beach with your family and saw a bird?
2. Is it true that I saw you at the market yesterday?

I know they're trying, but I swear, so many WTF moments. To their credit, some of them came up with good ones, here's the complete list from my E group (the oldest ones, and the only ones who were able to come up with a list at all. The other groups either complained that it was too hard, brought me unusable things, or cried in the corner. Whoot):

• Do you sleep better with the lights on or off?
• Can you get sick from a dream (some of my kids claim this happens regularly)?
• Which catches more flies: Jackson Chameleon or a Frog?
• Which is dirtier: A fly or a cockroach?
• Can an average man lick his armpit?
• Does a dream catcher actually catch bad dreams?
• Does a gnat live better in water or Playdough (WTF?)
• Which will wear down faster: tennis shoes or high heels?
• Fire starting methods.
• Age at first white hair.
• Can you stand on 100 paper cups (I actually like this one).
• Can you count to 1000 in a minute?

Seeing that many were hopeless, I came up with a few fairy tales ones. My favorite one is the Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme, particularly the line "and all the King's horses and all the King's men, couldn't put Humpty together again." What I would like to do is to drop an egg from a reasonable height, collect the broken shell, whites, and yolk, and see if you can reassemble the egg with glue and tape and such. I'm really excited about this, and might even do it myself, though after seeing what these kids are capable of, I'm a little doubtful they could handle.

As a closing thought, I have a suggestion for school systems across the country. Kids need to be trained in fine motor skills. So many of them have the hardest time folding paper in half, cutting with scissors, tying knots, passing string through a huge hole. I know they're young and uncoordinated, but many of them are simply hopeless without an adult. And so many are unwilling to try. They tell me it's too hard. And when I tell them they just need to give it a try, they become mad, or sad, and start crying. I can't deal with this. I need to start associating with people my own age for a bit.

And with that rantification down, I give you my shirt pocket:

: Many many Big Gulp straws, many many Slurpee straws, my ID, a pair of scissors, a homopolar motor, a Nature Valley Honey Oat bar, three pencils, two dry erase pens, one of those sweet high end erasers (confiscated), a paper airplane (confiscated), a paper clip necklace (confiscated. They were my paper clips), a slide trombone reed straw thing (confiscated. I warned them not to play with it in other classes), an eraser shaped like an Unagi-don (I kind of just wanted it).

Three more days of teaching, and a Field day type thing on the last day. The end is almost in sight, and I'm feeling groovy.

And if you've actually taken the time to read my inane ramblings and incessant rantings, thank you. I can't imagine people actually read this blog, let alone these obscenely long posts. And since very few will reach this point: baba booey baba booey baba booey baba booey.