MR. HAGEN'S CLASS

In the hands of a truly talented person graffiti can be elevated to an art form.  My high school buddies were not artists and they didn't claim to be.  They didn't even call what they did graffiti, it was graffilthy and they took pride in their work. Their medium was black Sharpie marker, their canvas any surface in the school where they could scrawl the names of their favorite heavy metal bands without getting caught.   Somehow during senior year they managed to get their hands on a master key to the school that gave them access to the locked bathrooms in the shop wing where they could safely create their own Sistine chapels in Sharpie on the bathroom walls and stalls.  Metallica, Iron Maiden, Dio and Black Sabbath. Sistine chapel?  Maybe more like Neanderthal cave painting:  crude but effective. They hit their targets with such ferocity it fed rumors the perpetrators were a gang or even a satanic cult, but it was just a couple of stoned metalhea...

“She carries a map of the world in her pocket To remind her of places she'll never see, And quotes from all her lifelong Heroes of all the things she'll never be…” Juan W.

“So what do you want to be when you grow up?” It's a question I've asked literally hundreds of children during my career as a teacher with the public schools.  The usual answers included football player, basketball player, dancer, singer, doctor, astronaut, etc. If I fished long enough eventually some bright-eyed small person would invariably say, “I want to be a teacher just like you, Mr. Hagen!”  I have to confess that I always admired the certainty of the kids who thought they knew who they wanted to be - even if they changed their minds on the long road to adulthood. As for me, I never really knew what I wanted to be. I've been a cook, painter and  printer; a landscaper, furniture mover, truck washer and much, much more on my own long road to teaching. Every lawn mowed, floor mopped and dish washed helped me move.  Forward.  Maybe not always in a straight line but forward.   In all my years working in a classroom I never once heard a kid say ...

THAT'S MY GIRL I wake to watch the covers rise And the covers fall. A storm last night was raging wild But my angel slept right thru it all. That's my girl . . . A universe outside of my doorway But she's my world. I lie awake and watch the moonlight On the bedroom wall. A shadowplay of crosses sways in the night light but she doesn't see it at all. In peaceful dreams . . . In her own world . . . That's my girl. (Guitar solo) A chaos of curls On the pillow beside me A kiss on the cheek As I quietly head toward the door. My whole life . . . My whole world . . . That's my girl.

“When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life in a manner so that when you die the world cries and you rejoice.”  --Native American Proverb  Kids nowadays have it so easy with their memes and tweets.  Back in the PG era (pre-google) if you wanted quotes you had to either read a book (which even then nobody bothered to do;-) or steal them from the Quotable Quotes section of Reader's Digest in your dentist’s waiting room.  Of course I was way too cool for that.  I don’t even know where those pages upstairs came from . . .