MR. HAGEN'S CLASS

kay·fabe ˈ kāˌfāb/ noun (in professional wrestling) the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic. "a masterful job of blending kayfabe and reality" In the fall of 1984 the United States was suddenly and maliciously attacked by the combined forces of the Soviet Union, Cuba and Nicaragua-yes Nicaragua.  Just stay with me here.  If it hadn't been for the courage of a ragtag group of teenagers led by Patrick Swayze, Charlie Sheen and Ferris Bueller's sister America as we know it could have been lost to history as just one more failed experiment in democracy.   Okay, so you caught me.  I recently watched the classic 1980s movie "Red Dawn.”  I haven't seen it since it first came out at the Villa Theater.  Like my friends I was sure that I'd be just as ready as the heroes in the movie if the Commies started falling out of the sky and tried to take over the north side of Milwa...

(undated) I saw my old boss at the museum today.  He’s long since retired from the cuckoo’s nest where we worked together for years.  Now he’s a docent leading enthusiastic groups of small children through the museum’s exhibits.  The last time we spoke he’d let his beard grow out into a salt and peppery mess.  He explained that the museum had a special exhibition on pirates and that he was able to dress up in full pirate regalia for tours.  What fun! He asked me a simple question:  “So, have you built any volcanoes lately?”  I was almost embarrassed at the query.  Back when he was my boss I did ridiculous projects with my students. I’d have wading pools filled with slabs of ice and sand to demonstrate the impact of glaciers on our state; or three foot high replicas of volcanoes painted by my students erupting in my classroom and powered by my wife’s Halloween smoke machine (we nearly set off the school’s smoke alarms);  or models of...

His name was Les.  I can't think of a more awkward name to lug around middle school than "Less".  But it gets worse.  He wore those black plastic framed glasses made popular by Superman's Clark Kent. That may have been okay for a nuclear physicist or an engineer but not for a tweenager in the early eighties.  And he was scrawny.  If you ever found yourself chasing him on the playground and you inevitably would, all you'd see was elbows and knees flailing as he darted away.  If you did somehow manage to catch Les he'd beg forgiveness for whatever snarky remark he made that caused you to chase him in the first place.  But as soon as you let him go he'd give you the finger or make another smart ass comment that'd make you want to chase him all over again.  It was a little game we used to play:  chase Les, grab Les, hurt Les, release Les.  Get taunted or insulted.  Repeat. One day some genius in my class decided to play a...

We’ve been watching her since the beginning of the year.  She’s inattentive and easily distracted.  Her mom has apparently seen fit to send her daughter to school with enough supplies to outfit an entire classroom.  She absentmindedly shuffles through her pencil box looking for something, anything to keep her mind off her work.  She whispers to her tablemates, plays in her desk, tunes out the world.  179 would rather be somewhere else. On Monday I received an email regarding 179.  Her grandfather requested a meeting.  When I got to the room 179’s mom and aunt were already seated.  Turns out our little 179 has seen things.  The death of a loved one up close and personal.  Mom’s boyfriend was stabbed to death in the street by another family member. 179 saw it all.   Auntie is going through counseling (her man wielded the knife) but mom and 179 are not.  Nope, the little one in the pigtails at table 3 is just going t...

It all started the day my wife came home from getting her hair done and told me that her hair dresser voted for Donald Trump.  In the weeks leading up to the election I'd been following the race almost compulsively.  After seventeen years teaching in the public schools I quit my job in late September.  That allowed me the opportunity to devote my every waking hour to the train wreck that was our presidential election.  What a mistake.  I wondered what kind of person would have voted for Trump. Then Jenny told me about Steve.   Steve's a great guy with a wide range of interests.  He's an engaging conversationalist and a deep listener.  He's also one of the few people with whom I could easily agree to disagree when the discussion came around to politics. And it wasn't even so much that we disagreed as it was that we came to our world views from two very different vantage points.  He's a small business owner and until recently I...