Monday, October 27, 2014

Vacancy at the Hotel Uterus

Freedom is a beautiful thing
I think we can all agree that women are under a lot of scrutiny. A lot.
We are almost always too fat – unless we cross over and become “disgustingly thin” or a “skinny bitch”.
We are expected to behave, and we hear these commands all the time:
  "Sit up!"
  "Don't be pushy!"
  "Don't be too loud!"
  "You are too opinionated!"
  "Act like a lady!"
Wait, are those last four said only to me? No, I’m pretty sure they are universal.
I think.
We are constantly under observation: 
  "Sure, she lost some weight, but now her face sags."
  "I think she has had some work done."
  "She has cankles and her left eye is lazy."

From where I sit, women can't win for losing. This goes double for moms:
  "I don't know why she even had kids if she is never home."
  "She just lets those kids walk all over her."
  "She is a mess! If you can't handle the stress, don't have kids!"
Talking about not being able to win for losing, try that, women. Try not having kids. That will surely keep all that criticism off your ass.
Oh wait - no it won't.
You want to open yourself up to a huge stinking pile of judgment? Just be a childless female over 30. Even worse, a married childless female over 30. A woman who chooses not to have a child.
I have never been a childless female over 30, so I am not speaking from experience. But, I can tell you that I have never heard anything good offered up about women who exercise their right to live their life in a way that suits them.
I can also tell you that whenever I meet a woman who has chosen not to have children, she confesses that right away. Sometimes she will share this information apologetically, sometimes with a bit of compensating bravado, and sometimes just as a warning or heads-up that I may find her pristine ovaries all too much and take leave of her company forthwith.
Women would not be so preemptively defensive if they didn't all get a ton of shit for not having a kid.
This steaming pile of shit we dump on childless women is crazy for so many reasons, I feel compelled to enumerate them in my new blog segment, aptly titled:




This title makes me happy.

1. It is their body, their life and their choice

That's right people, women are actually autonomous creatures with lots to offer the world besides their uteruses. They are not extensions of a man who can breed with them; they are not cattle impregnated for the good of the farm; they are not the unpaid nannies of the world, continuing the species, alone, on their exhausted shoulders.
They are humans, living in a society and oh so very capable of personal choice.

2. Overpopulation

Seriously folks, before you start laying into people about how "they must experience children, for they are God's gift" - try remembering that God has been a little too generous with the gifts when we consider what the planet can sustain. God is like the uncle who brings us a puppy and a drum set. They seem like a good idea, but we have no place to put the drum set and now we have to feed and care for the puppy. We need fewer gifts please, God.
I know I am opening myself up to major critique with this point, as I have so many “littles,” but that is just my point. When I encounter people who have opted for a childless life, I thank them:
"That is great! You may have noticed I screwed up the “just replace yourselves” thing and I really appreciate you helping me even it out. Besides, no sense in both of us going under."

3. Poverty

This is a very real consideration. It even has a name, the Feminization of Poverty, with lone mothers experiencing the highest risk for extreme poverty because their income is insufficient to feed their children.
So, before we get all high & mighty as we look down on women who choose to lower their risk of destitution, maybe we should stop a moment to think about it as a very wise choice.
Also, if as a society we are so hell-bent on every womb being sacred and therefore obligated to hold human life - perhaps we should help a mother out now and again.
Players all be like:
  "Have a baby! Have a baby! Have a baby!"
  "Girl, why you have a baby when you can't take care of it!??!!!"
Can't win for losing.

4. Babies Kind of Suck

You know, I love me some babies. I am a total addict; I always need to hold them –I will even ask complete strangers if I can hold their babies. And thank God I have a fertile family that pops those little poopers out every few years because there is nothing better than baby head smell.
Buuuuuut.... truth be told, babies suck the life right out of you. You give up your body to make them and your sleep and sanity to raise them. And you get to deeply understand the phrase “this is why we can’t have nice things” for at least 20 years.
When the littles are young you spend every moment making sure they don't die, and when they are older you spend every moment fixing stuff they have broken or looking for stuff they have taken.
Seriously. Can someone tell me which of those little fuckers took my body wash?
I love my kids, but realistically - it is not for everyone. It is not even for most people. If social pressure did not exist, and we had a really clear picture of what it was like to raise children before having them, I think our over-population problem would fix itself in a generation.
So, women who do not have children, you are perfectly complete and amazing.
You have to answer to no one about your mindful decisions and your powerful choices.
You are going to have more time and disposable income than those of us who made a different choice, so good for you! I hope you use both in ways that make your life and the world even better. 
The mandate that you must have children to be a "real woman" is completely false, but you are real.

How could anyone ever tell you otherwise?

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

All or Nothing

Here is the thing about me (and I bet it is about you as well): In the area of taking care of and loving myself, I am an all-or-nothing kind of girl.

BooBerry2If I start my day off eating sugary cereal "because goddammit - it is Halloween" and "I cannot live without me Boo Berry Crunch" [Editor’s note: read like a pirate].
Then, for the rest of the day, I am all like: "Fuck it, not going to Yoga - I ate Boo-berry Crunch. You know what? Screw brushing my teeth, I am going to let the flavor linger! Hey! Pass me those s'mores - I need a Boo-berry Crunch chaser."

Seriously, all it takes is one wrong turn and I’m suddenly Forrest Gump runnin’ down the road to Unwellsville.
This compulsive disregard for my health is clearly among the stupidest things I do (of which there is a tough competition brewing for that number-one spot).

So why would I, a girl who normally acts with thoughtful intent, do this to myself? If my kids said to me: "It's okay Mom, I can have Cheez-Its - I already drank a Coke!" I would be all swivel-headed-finger waving: "Oh no you didn't just say that to me!" There is no way I would support the kind of thinking that leaves you powerless to turn yourself around and get it together.

And yet...

I do this to myself. We do this to ourselves. We give up on taking the best care of ourselves and totally let go. Why? How can we stop? Look, I don't know! If I knew, I wouldn't have such a Boo-berry Crunch problem!!!
But, I do know one thing: If you don't like yourself, you won't take care of yourself.
Think about it, when you are driving a new car, all fresh and exciting, you love it. You clean it all the time, you buy scented car organizers, you get a custom brush and spray for polishing the dash.

But when you are driving your 10-year-old minivan with the massive scrapes on the side caused by your 16-year-old "emerging driver" - with a worn vinyl interior that has long since given up - you just decide to eat like a cookie monster in that thing. Crumbs everywhere? You don't care! Driving down the road with a megaphone, shouting: "You really wanna test me, huh? You really wanna go? Hit me! I dare you! … Gimme cookie!!!!"
You don't take care of what you don't like.

And conversely, if you like something, it is natural for you to take care of it. When you are loving yourself and feeling good about yourself, you make wise choices. Start the day with exercise or checking things off your list, and you’ll continue to honor and be kind to yourself throughout the day.
Think about it: it is easier to motivate yourself to clean house when it is already essentially clean. When you walk in to your kitchen and find evidence the Tasmanian Devil has wrestled with a Slurpy machine, and lost, you are more likely to throw your bags on the counter, contribute to the mess, and ignore it a while longer. It’s hard to show TLC to a kitchen when your feet are sticking to the floor. On the other hand, when you have been loving and taking care of your kitchen, you walk in, put everything away, maybe wipe down the counter again just to see it sparkle - you treat THAT kitchen like a precious gem.
So, this self-bashing thing we do? Counter productive. When you are hating on yourself, saying: "Boo Berry Crunch? Really? What are you, six years old? Forget it! You can't even take care of yourself!!!" (I know this seems like excessive breakfast conversation – but, trust me, it can happen). When you are all straight-up meanie pants to yourself - then of course you are not going to dote on yourself. You are kind of pissed at you. Why should you care what you do?
Drink tequilla! Don't buckle up! Yolo!
So, my friends, if you are not liking yourself - fake it. Brush and floss. Spend time making your hair look great. Take a long walk in a gorgeous place. Start taking really good care of yourself and you will start to love yourself - as if you were that scrappy little orphan kitten you nursed when it was a baby. Oh, how could you not love little Scrappy? It was up to you to care for him - and we always love what we take care of.
In the space between taking care of yourself and hating yourself, when you are teetering between all or nothing - always go for the all. If you can't do that, something is better than nothing, even faking it.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Back Off Dress Codes - This is Not Your Call

Ok, I am pissed. The Dress Code thing has always been an issue for me - but we are at code-fucking-orange here people.
That's right, girls are getting hazed and shamed. They are being kicked out of proms, made to wear scarlet letter suits, and are being called skanks by those in authority – the same teachers and administrators we trust to take care of our girls

This is not so different from the public humiliation (and sometimes beatings) the Taliban forces onto women refusing to wear burqas, my friends.

How many young women need to be humiliated and left in tears before we collectively say “Knock it off!”? It’s time we stop making teenage bra straps a political issue.

To be clear, I like dress codes and I enforce them in my home. I talk to my kids about the messages their clothes send to the world and I talk to them about who they want to be and who they want to look like. I support school uniforms for schools deciding they need them.

I do not, however, support bullshit.

And, make no mistake: dress codes are increasingly becoming an excuse for sexualizing women and disgracing young girls for the apparent pleasure of those in power. It’s bullshit.

So, people in positions of authority over young people: I will kindly ask you to just stop.

Stop what?” you ask? I’m so happy you asked for clarification. Here it is:

1) Stop humiliating our daughters.

Yes, humiliating them. Stop pulling them out of a group to shame them. Stop conducting the "inspections" in front of others. Stop asking them to bend over so everyone can see how short their skirts are. These are young women - not your playthings. And the claim that you "just want them to respect themselves" feels disingenuous when you treat them like cattle for sale. Just stop it.

And don't give me the old "Dress codes apply to both boys and girls" argument.
No they fucking don't and you know it.
The boys in this situation were not sent home, made to put on different clothes, or singled out at a school assembly. Their only consequence: they were respectfully asked if they could adhere to the school’s dress code in the future. Nice. By the way kids, this is the way violations should be handled, regardless of gender.
My 16-year-old son regularly violates the dress code at his school, and is repeatedly vocal to teachers and administrators that no dress code consequences will come his way because he is a boy. So far he is right.

It is about curves and boobs and legs and butts - on girls. It is a gender issue, so stop the bullshit.

2) Stop micro-managing decency.

The newest items to be flagged for dress code persecution are leggings and yoga pants.

What the fuck is that all about?

First of all, I have yoga pants that happen to be indiscernible from dress pants. I have one kid who is so skinny that leggings look like regular pants, and I have another with legs so muscular they can only fit into pants made out of stretchy material. Soooooooo..... what is this rule about, exactly? The shape of the pant? The fit? The material? Aren't we getting a bit ridiculous here? Are teachers now going to perform cotton/spandex ratio checks? Stitching/seam/pocket checks? This is getting weird.

Leggings are comfy and good for everyone, even those with tricky figures (hence my personal collection of Ray Liotta yoga pants). Leggings and yoga pants actually provide pretty good skin coverage. So why are we banning them again? Is it because someone has decided they are sexy, and so now we are sexualizing all those who wear them? Don't strip us of our precious yoga pants. We need them.

This inspires an “I'll show you” attitude; students will find a way to wear something that covers head to toe and isn't technically see-through (but kind of is… but not… but yes…). Rigid rules invite rebellion.

3) Stop teaching our sons they are powerless.

Although dress code restrictions and consequences don't seem to ever apply to boys, the reason behind them certainly does. Most dress codes are put into place for the purpose of making sure the animalistic boys don't get distracted.

There are so many ways in which this is wrong. Let's cover the top three:

First, why why why do we think so little of our boys? What are they? Crazy unbalanced aggressors on the precipice of reaching a sexy-time frenzy the moment a female’s lower limbs enter their sight?
Are they so unable to handle life that the sight of a bra strap might render them incapable of learning, or even functioning?

Seriously. Boys know girls have legs. And shoulders. Let's give them some credit.

Second, ripping dress-code-violating girls out of class and sending them home prioritizes the rights of the boys (to learn without "distractions") over the rights of girls (to simply attend school). Shouldn’t we hold the rights of our young girls to attend school just as sacredly as we do for our boys?

Third, any policy that delivers humiliating messages to females (while being completely silent to males) sends a strong message to both genders that men are weak (and must be protected and cannot be held responsible for their actions). And if men are not responsible for their actions, who are? Well, by process of elimination, it must be the women.

So when schools enforce dress codes through humiliation, what they are really doing is indoctrinating our young men and women into a mindset that is remarkably harmonious with rape culture.

It seems we have some baggage to unpack here.

Speaking of which...

4) Stop putting YOUR baggage on our kids.

If you’re a school administrator or teacher and you get turned-on or flustered by an insufficient amount of cloth between you and a budding teenage girl – I suggest reevaluating yourself - not the school policy. Or maybe you should consider a different career, far far away from the schools that hold our vulnerable boys and girls.
Your boner, your problem.

5) Stop thinking this is yours to control.

Public school is where the dress code drama is playing out. Public school is obligated to provide an education to all. Even to those in booty shorts.

Seriously, what is the ultimate repercussion? Are we really going to kick out those who don't comply? You can make suggestions, but ultimately, I don't think it makes sense to expel someone over a few inches of cloth.

I guess you could always just participate in revisionist history and photoshop all students to conform to your idea of what they need to look like, as a school in Utah did. Of course, they only manipulated photos of girls in the yearbook.

Ultimately, I am the parent. It is up to me to explain that the real problem with short shorts is that your sweaty thighs rub against the seat where other sweaty thighs have rubbed. That is super yucky and we all need to agree that dress codes protecting us from the ravages of unbridled thigh sweat are good.
Really good.

But dress codes with no foundation in safety, which allow school authorities to feel superior as they target and shame the girls, are bad.
Really bad.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Why I am Not a "Plan B" Parent

Totally OK with whatever path these guys choose,
even if they want to be birds.
I grew up in kind of a rich town, as kind of a poor kid. Not truly poor; I recognize that my family owned their own house and we had food to eat, but everything is relative.

When you grow up in a rich town but you can't afford a bicycle, you kind of feel poor.

When it was time for my friends and I to graduate high school, I felt the difference between the haves and have-nots once again. This time,  however, I was grateful. It was time to choose colleges and programs of study, and surprisingly time for some parents to exert control, as evidenced through the words of my friends, which sounded a lot like this:

"I want to be a rock star, but my parents and I compromised on sound editing."

"I can't major in theater because that is impractical, so I am going to major in hotel restaurant management."

"I know I would be a great teacher, but my parents said if I go into teaching, I have to attend a state school and not the one I really want. So, I am going to med school."

And there were many, many more disappointed friends and almost twice as many nervous parents.

This concept was foreign. "How can it be up to your parents?" I mind-screamed to myself (and at them, but they apparently didn’t hear my mind-scream). But there was an answer: the parents get to decide because they are paying. This can occur over and over with weddings and even places to live. Parents pay so they get to choose.

I paid my own way through college, and everything else for that matter - so the only thing I ever did was exactly what I wanted to do. Thank god.

With moderate poverty comes moderate freedom. Or maybe with fierce independence comes fierce freedom.

I was so thrilled because I could not wrap my head around the parental viewpoint in this scenario. Sooooo.... your kid has passion about something and you think they should not? Your kid has a talent and you are working hard to convince them to NOT exploit it? Your kid shares their big dream with you and outlines a path to pursue it, and you come back with "What about a plan B?"?!?!?!?!?!?!

Are you kidding me, head-up-your-ass-parents?
Do you know how many people live their whole lives and are never passionate about anything? Do you know how much amazingness has been tamped down by parents saying things like "Of course I believe in you, I want you to be an astronaut, I just ALSO want you to be an accountant. Just in case."

At least be honest and say it: "I believe in you…. but not really."

I get it. We love our kids. We want to make sure they’ll be able to support themselves. I want that too, but I want nothing more than for my kids to be happy in whatever life they choose. I don't know what that path will look like - but I do know this: I cannot choose it for them.

I want my kids to reach for every brass ring, pursue every far-off fantasy, and just be in a world where whatever place they have in it, I honor them.

And so I deliberately choose to honor them in their own Plan A awesomeness.

Currently, my 5-year-old wants to be a "fashion girl" and my 4-year-old wants to be a drummer/superhero.

Go for it, littles! No safety net, no Plan B. Just go for it and be a drummer/superhero/fashion person/thing. Throw yourself into it with your whole heart and know that your mom could not be more proud.

[Editor’s Note: Dad is proud too, and currently working on ways to augment the drum set so it’s better suited to fight crime…]

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Pumpkin Parenting

Bringing up Pumpkin 
Last November I tossed rotting Jack-o-lanterns into an unused garden bed and hoped for the best. I occasionally watered it, I occasionally put some compost in there with it, but I mostly left it alone.

This summer I was happy to see huge leaves emerging from the garden bed, and now there is at least one sweet little orange pumpkin adorning our front lawn.

I love this pumpkin.

With almost no help from me, it formed into just what it was meant to be. I just had to plant the seed, step back, and allow it the freedom to become the pumpkin it was meant to be.

I think of parenting as just that. As a parent, you can fuss over your pumpkin child, watering it all the time, picking off all the other leaves so that your pumpkin kid gets all the nutrients and grows bigger than the other pumpkins, you can pick off the grubs and scrub the leaves with baking soda - I would imagine with all the books about gardening and parenting, you could put all your time and energy into the care and feeding of your pumpkin, or your child.

Or, you could step back and watch it grow, and love it for exactly who it is. In my experience, this is a good way to get a really great pumpkin.

I was just at a back-to-school night where I encountered a bunch of gardener/parents who were a lot more energetic than I am. This was high school. I would imagine that by the time your pumpkin is in high school, your pumpkin takes care of business, more or less, on its own.

But, oh no. I would be wrong.

These parents wanted to know about every little thing their pumpkin was doing, who they were sitting next to, every single activity they did in class, and even their locker combination. There were a lot of expert gardeners in there.

The over-gardening I saw at back-to-school night worried me. Here is why: Today
my real life pumpkin had a problem. The big leaves that normally shade the little guy were covered with a white with a fungus and starting to die. I intervened. I cut off the infected leaves and I sprayed a solution to help contain the problem. I stepped in to "help", but I am not sure I really did.

Left on their own to find their way, pumpkins and children usually do just that. They figure it out and become stronger in the process. Now that I have stepped in, my poor little pumpkin sits in my yard unprotected by its huge fungus leaves, without the strength of having survived on its own. He seems so vulnerable and alone out there.

I wonder about all those back-to-school night pumpkins. With all the aggressive landscaping done on their behalf, how are ever going to be able to really grow, to learn how to overcome problems, and experience that feeling you get when you have worked through a difficult situation and come out on the other side, on your own?

So, sometimes pumpkins need help. Maybe pruning the plant and spraying the solution was the right thing to do. But, maybe it wasn't. But I do know I have robbed my little pumpkin of the joy of unadulterated growing up. From now on, I will simply love my little garden friend and hope for the best. I think it is strong enough to become a fine Jack-o-lantern someday.

And, as for my other little pumpkins, I realize I may need to prune on occasion - maybe even spray them with a baking soda solution every once in a while. But I do know that I will also continue to simply love them and know they are strong enough to handle adversity and become some seriously bad ass pumpkins because of it.

We actually have fewer pumpkin kids than pictured here

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Yes, I Go To Church

The four year old feeling a previous service.
Photo credit Sean Elliot
I was on a panel the other day and these words found their way out of my mouth:
"When I teach Sunday school – "
I was quickly interrupted.

"Wait, what!? YOU teach Sunday school?"

At first I was confused. Is that weird? Am I unqualified? Must I believe in a literal God first?
And then I realized, their shock had nothing to do with any of that. They were shocked because I swear like a truck driving gangster sailor, question everything that doesn't make sense to me, and because "traditional family values" mean nothing to me simply because they are traditional.

They were shocked because of their very narrow view of who goes to church. Church-going folk are brainwashed, non-questioning, non-progressive simpletons who would not know what to do or think without someone at the pulpit telling them.

I am not sure why church received such a bum-rap among intellectuals. Perhaps it can be linked to some of the loudest religious voices preaching intolerance and hate. Perhaps it has to do with the "believe without questioning" attitude in some churches, such as the one I grew up in. Perhaps it has to do with people dismissing it as "the opiate of the masses". Oh wait. Maybe that is YouTube.

But here is the thing: why is an opiate for the masses a bad thing? Couldn't this world, with all of its suffering and tragedy, use a pain reliever at least once a week?

Maybe we should rethink this opiate concept.

This past Sunday morning was rough. After a Saturday night roller derby bout, a sleepover with three 12-year-old girls, and an early morning dog grooming appointment, I was trying my best to wrangle the troops for a 10 o'clock church service.

It didn't go well.

I had to leave more than half my soldiers on the battlefield of the breakfast table and ended up dragging only two kids with me. The littlest one was particularly cranky and wanted no part of walking into the church building. He was whiney; he was squirmy; he was trying to run back to the car at every opportunity. I held him, I wrestled him, and I whispered in his ear "Just come in with me and we will cuddle." I won that battle. Sort of.

As I sat in the service, my sweet four-year-old boy resisted my cuddle, stiffened his body so I couldn't hold him, and managed to wriggle to the floor twice. I scooped him up again and hoped for the best.

Then it happened, a song about light from a beautiful trio of singers began and his little body softened. He turned to watch and I saw his face go from grumpy to calm. By the time the choir sang, he was smiling. Something had washed over him. And in that moment, that same peaceful something had washed over me.

I get it. That is why I go to church.

For me, there is community, there is mindfulness, and there are social justice projects. But above all, there is that feeling of the deepest inhale I can imagine taking, followed by an exhale that is nothing short of magic. That exhale lets go of the tension, releases the petty irritations, and puts into perspective my role in this very large and infinite universe. That exhale tells me everything will be ok. Or it won't. Either way, the world will keep turning and I will do my best to turn with it.

It doesn't always happen, to be honest. Not every Sunday is a home run. Some Sundays don't feel like opium at all.

But some do.

And for me and my four-year-old, this Sunday was just the deep breath we needed.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Genius Fish

So, you know that quote that says:

"Everybody is a genius. But, if you judge a fish simply by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."

Whoever said that was probably NOT a very good tree climber.

At any rate, I seem to have several fish trying to climb trees in my house.

ClimbingTreesIt is no surprise really.
We are always telling the kids that busywork (e.g., homework without any discernable purpose) is kind of bullshit and real learning takes place when they ask questions and challenge themselves.

As a result, they don't always do homework.

Actually, they only do homework when they, themselves feel compelled to do it.

My 12-year-old is getting a D in band even though she plays the Saxophone really well. On principle, she refuses to fill out and have me sign practice time sheets because she feels she should be judged only on her ability to play.

In theory, I am good with all of their choices. The trick is in being relaxed about the bad grades, grades that have no real reflection on the brilliant kid.

But, what if I am wrong? What if teaching my kids to think outside the box and question authority is going to leave them lonely and unhappy in life? What if grades really are the end all be all and they will be left with no real options in the world? Can they get by in life by just being clever and snarky?

Sure they can. I do.

We are on the path of recognizing our genius fish for exactly who they are and I think it is best to just keep on keeping on.

Us: "School is a tool for you to use. The teachers work for you. It’s not the other way around. You can get great grades and see what school has to offer then (Hint: a lot). Or you can learn as much as you can without being invested in grades - or you can drop out and become a rock star. Whatever you do, grab life by the balls! Or, at the very least cup the balls, tickle them a bit. Or, slap the balls. Do something with life’s balls. But whatever you do, do it on your terms."

Yes, we really say that. You do not want to go through life ignoring life’s balls.

Sometimes the wonderful things about kids don't show up on report cards or awards. Sometimes you have to pay careful attention to notice when your fish is doing something other than climbing a tree.

Spencer (now 16) is probably sneaking by with a C in his history class, but that doesn’t stop him from creating a study guide for his friends.

I include a few samples for anyone who wants to learn more about history:

Emmett Till. A 14-year-old African-American boy murdered in Mississippi for flirting with a white woman. They took the boy away to a barn, beat him and gouged out one of his eyes, shot him through the head, disposing his body in the Tallahatchie River. Three days later, Till's mom had an open-casket funeral which really grossed people out cause he was mad fucked-up and that got a lot of people really angry and BOOM! Civil Rights Motherfucker!

Malcolm X. Look at that sick ass name - like damn!

March On Washington. The March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom or "The Great March on Washington", was one of the largest political rallies for human rights in United States history. Martin Luther King delivered his historic "I Have a Dream" speech, calling for an end to racism. Also you know that thing where the Titanic crashed because so many time travelers were on board trying to save it? Well I think the reason so many people marched on Washington is because all the time travelers wanted to see it. Further proof: Even our teacher Mr. Walter said if he could go back in time it would be to that day - so I'm just sayin'.

So, if we spend all of our time getting this guy to climb trees and do conventional homework and put his square peg of a brain into round holes, we never get to simply enjoy what happens when our little genius fish swim like crazy, all the way upstream:-)