'Tis the Season

Oh, the things that happen this time of year.

Funny how we celebrate Christmas by doing some of the most insane things imaginable. And it doesn't all begin in December. No, Christmas starts earlier and earlier each year. Black Friday is the traditional kickoff to the shopping season, but let's be honest about this. When you see Christmas stuff showing up in the stores right after Halloween it's no big secret that the season is really in full swing right after we all emerge from our turkey and carb-induced comas. I'm pretty sure that the real reason all of those sales start at hours fit for little else besides examining the insides of one's eyelids is because some study has shown that people are more likely to emerge from their stupor and still be numbed in the brain enough to spend incomprehensible amounts of money on things that will be of little interest after January 1.

So, many Americans awaken with neck and back pain caused by contorting into previously-believed impossible positions on couches, floors, and chairs, having taken great care to protect the now-bloated bellies containing so much Thanksgiving scruptiousness. They wake everyone else in the house, all cram into the family vehicle and head for Target, BestBuy, Wal-Mart and a host of other anxiously awaiting big box stores staffed by teenagers high on Red Bull and PowerBars. They stand in line, cursing themselves for not camping out the entire week prior like those who are in line ahead of them, hoping to get to the Sony Playstation 9000 or the Strangle Me Elmo doll that will be the big seller this year before they're all gone. Not to worry though. If the shelf is empty there is always a fallback plan. Just wait until the person who snagged the last one isn't looking and lift it from the shopping cart, or mug someone for it. After all, if you can't have it why should they?


This is all, of course, assuming you even get into the store without being trampled. The stampeding herd of Christmas cheer mauls at least 300 people annually, and rumor is that the CDC will be tracking deaths of this sort in an attempt to forestall a nationwide epidemic.

Alas, Christmas will come and go and most of us will survive with our major limbs still intact. Hopefully amidst all of the furor we will keep in mind the true meaning of the season. It's not all about game systems, creepy dolls, and manic episodes reminiscent of the vacation in Pamplona. It's really about keeping things in perspective and knowing that a little over two millenia ago a key figure in the world's history was born. It's about taking the love that He shared with us in His words and deeds and putting them into practice.

Am I against gifts and shopping? Oh, no. I just don't think they're worth risking life and limb. Besides, I'm pretty sure that I can get a deal on whatever it is that is the hot item at Christmas if I'll just suck it up until the after Christmas sales. Maybe if I hang on for a few months I'll find it at a yard sale for even less. In the meantime, my shopping is done and I believe I'll watch a little football.

Merry Christmas.

Just a Little Off Kilter

Well now. It's been about two months since I've written anything. Actually that's not entirely true. I've written stuff. I've signed my name on things. I've made lists of stuff to do. I've even written "wash me" in the dust on a vehicle. I just haven't written anything here. But alas, summer vacation has passed and I'm finally heading back to work where I can get a little rest.

I've been back in Doha now for a little under a week, and the jet lag is finally starting to lift. Still not quite right but doing better by the day. Nevertheless I remain a little off kilter. I'm reminded of what George Gobel said one time. Ever feel like the world is a tuxedo and you're a brown pair of shoes? That's me right now. I'm just not quite right and it goes beyond this whole traveling-halfway-around-the-world thing. See I'm a temporary bachelor, kind of. I do have the two black girls who live in our house here with me. They lie about on the floor just as naked as they can be, as though not a thing in the world is wrong with it. In fact they seem quite proud in their nudity. Modesty really isn't among their stronger character traits, but they are quite happy to be here with me. I pretty much can't go anywhere in the house without these two naked girls following me about. The funny thing about it all is that my wife really doesn't mind if our dogs think I hung the moon.


Which brings me to my bachelorhood, the one of the temporary nature. Turns out my brother-in-law is getting married today. So being the good sister she is my wife is still in the United States attending his wedding. He's marrying a lovely girl who has absolutely become part of the family. But she has nothing to do with my temporary bachelorhood. Fact is, she is busy ending my brother-in-law's second experience as a bachelor about now and life should be getting better by the moment for them. I was fortunate enough to obtain a little footage from their wedding, specifically revolving around their vows. Lovely ceremony to be sure.

But you know, sometimes you just don't feel quite right when your own special someone isn't around and this has been a very long week. Thankfully the time will pass swiftly with school starting. Soon enough she'll be back in Doha and that brown pair of shoes will become a fine pair of Mezlan black crocodiles.

A Little Too Close for Comfort...

I'll start by saying that I've become quite used to different societal norms. I'm no stranger to shows of affection between people that are not what we normally see in the United States, and quite honestly I really don't notice it much at this point. Have I become numbed to it? Yeah, I'd say so. Different cultures, different norms, no problem. Some things though just don't quite translate well for me, and that usually revolves around too much touchy-feeliness. Not that I'm against a handshake or a warm hug. I love those things. Most of us don't really mind them when they come from friends or family members. There is a line that exists for me.

Our most recent stopover in Dubai, en route to the United States, gave me an opportunity to ponder this little matter a bit more seriously. I've grown accustomed to the increased scrutiny of my personal possessions when coming home to the U.S. and have even come to tolerate being treated as a suspect every time I go through with a medical device that is always singled out for closer inspection. After all, I want to be safe when I travel. I do find the "randomness" of the selection process for being wanded or patted down at some airports to be questionable, namely recalling a particular time we came through an airport in the U.S. and we were the only two in sight at security. We were asked to submit (perhaps "asked" isn't the right word) to a random secondary screening. Now, I don't know about you but I don't exactly find two people chosen from a population of two to be a random sampling.

Anyway, back to the most recent event. Anyone who has ever changed planes in Dubai knows that you always have your carry-on baggage screened when you are on your way to your connecting gate. No problem. They're generally pretty efficient and it doesn't take too long to get through, except when you have a huge herd of people with no concept of a queue trying to cut in front of you at the scanners. Still, the overall process goes fairly well and we usually spend less than 10 minutes getting through the screening there. This time was no different, and in fact was better than usual. Most of the time we're heading east, but this time we were on an American carrier heading west and for whatever reason we went in a different direction to our boarding gate, happily strolling through the screening checkpoint in mere seconds. We arrived at our gate to the U.S. government-mandated inspection already under way. Not only were our possessions inspected, yet again (and again, I don't really mind that) but I had a rather close encounter with one of the fellows conducting the pat-down inspections.

Now I've submitted to being wanded and patted down before, and usually it's not much of a problem. In most cases it's a simple enough process that reveals that I wear a belt and carry a mobile phone and some keys. Not really anything I'm too put off by. This time was a bit different though. Apparently the jerk that tried to blow up his underwear in December has aroused enough suspicion of anyone who shows up fully clothed to the airport to warrant a highly intimate encounter. I gladly emptied my pockets of any and all items that the screener detected with his hands, showing that I did have a wallet, an iPod, some keys, a mobile phone and one ball of lint per pocket. No major problems there.

Then my friend put on the smooth move. You've seen the TV shows and movies where the guy is at the movies with the girl and he does the big yawn and stretch hoping to land an arm around her. Well this guy was far beyond such subtle approaches. As he knelt down on one knee to check my legs out, apparently checking to see if I had anything wrapped around my ankles, I noticed a hand creeping upward. The last time another man's hand got to that point I was obliged to turn my head and cough. And it wasn't just the one hand that caught me a bit off guard, but the other hand that was thrust through the gap between my legs and resting squarely on my backside while the other one did its unwelcome exploration of areas where explosives neither reside nor are desired.

Now, I understand that this guy was simply doing his job. I can't fault him for not being thorough, as he may now know me better than my doctor does. I don't envy him his job either, as those parts of another man's anatomy I'd prefer to leave well enough alone and shrouded in mystery. At this point the only thing I can say is that the next security screener at the airport who needs to do such a thorough inspection should really consider buying me dinner first.

It's The Little Things That Matter Most...

Funny how it is that sometimes the smallest things are what make the biggest difference to us. We take a lot for granted overall, then when certain things are not readily available we discover empty holes in our lives. They're not always giant potholes, like those craters that create the pockmarked landscape we call the Doha road system. Many times they're more like the telltale signs of a long-passed case of childhood chicken pox, minor blemishes that we would prefer to be without.

This is a time for us to apply a nice Michael Jackson effect to those blemishes and fill in a few holes. For starters, you just don't realize how much you like having TV playing until you don't have it. We took satellite TV for granted while living in the U.S., then went without it for the better part of a year until earlier this spring when we decided to hook up the combined TV and Internet package through Qatar's sole provider of such things, Qtel. Actually we could have gone with Showtime Arabia and spent way too much money for way too little programming. Tried that right after we arrived here and we were quite disappointed with what we got. And to be fair, Vodafone is in Qatar trying to establish itself by offering mobile phone service, but several people I know changed back to Qtel after a less than impressive experience with Vodafone. However, that's just a matter of full disclosure. The real story is that I am writing this entry while watching Daffy Duck beamed onto my wall, thus plugging two holes in my life at the same time: TV and Looney Tunes.

We are but a short time away from some time outside of the Gulf, now preparing our re-tuned digestive systems for culinary bliss that is rarely found in this oven we call home. I speak of the creature of the curly-Q tail and cloven hooves, the pig. How much we took for granted a nice plate of pork chops or some real honest-to-goodness sausage for a biscuit, but we now find that the highway to ham is at 35,000 feet and frequently means leaving the region. So, allow me to place all American swine on alert. We are inbound and craving what lies beneath your pink surface. Quite simply put, there may soon be a new addition to the U.S. endangered species list.

I am also going to be watching some other people plug a few holes this weekend. We've reached the end for the seniors in our school. They are out the door today. Other students still have work left to do, but we'll be bidding farewell to the Class of 2010 on Saturday night. I've had the opportunity to work with some of these students now for two years and I've found them to be fascinating people. Many of them will go on to great things. At the moment though, before they can continue on to the aforementioned great things they must apply a little putty to a pit. They need that high school diploma, and they will be proceeding across the stage Saturday night to receive them and join the ranks of people who have crossed one of life's first big hurdles: high school graduation. I remember that day, and I recall how big it was at the time. It may seem small in comparison today, but without that hole being filled my life would more closely resemble the surface of Edward James Olmos' cheeks than the ProActiv-enhanced complexion proudly displayed by the likes of Jessica Simpson. Add a pockmark for a missing college degree, a missing masters degree, no teaching credentials, no overseas life, and so forth. Well, you get the picture. I'd be on TV telling the world how much I wished that ProActiv had been available when I was a younger man.

Anyway, sometimes it truly is the little things that make a different in our lives, whether it be TV service, a German sausage from the grill, or a piece of paper representing that you know enough to move on to the next stage in life. I for one will take all of the little things I can get.

The Heat is On

I'm guessing when Glenn Frey sang the song The Heat is On, the one from the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack, it probably wasn't from the perspective that I'm writing about today. In fact, I know quite well what that song was about and I'd say it's anything but. On the flip side, the title fits so I'll borrow it.

Summer has officially arrived in Doha and someone has definitely turned up the temperature just a bit. Just like last year it seemed like overnight we went from beautiful 80s and nice breezes to 104 and hot dusty wind. OK, so it really isn't quite as bad as I make it sound. After all, it is a dry heat. Unfortunately if you spend too much time out in it, it can soon become a case of dry heaves. Now more than ever water is essential, and a little sunscreen isn't a bad idea either. Even the nights are toasty, dropping into the upper 80s and low 90s. Soon however we will be heading back to the United States and we will have a little bit different experience awaiting us: humidity.

Collectively the experiences in Doha in the spring and early summer, followed by summer in the mid-Atlantic prepare us for August and our return to Doha. Instead of a dry heat, as mentioned previously, August and September bring intense heat and moisture to this place we call home. We'll be returning to a place where it's almost possible to swim in the surrounding air and where a short walk outside turns your sweat glands into a sprinkler system stuck on spray. Two years ago when we first arrived here, when we came off of the plane at 10:00 at night, we were hit in the face by a wall of heat and steam that nearly sent me back onto the plane for a return flight to the U.S. Now I have to admit that I'm glad I resisted that temptation as Doha has turned out to be an OK place to be. Still, that first blast was pretty intense.

In a lot of cases, harsh weather brings out the worst in people. We get cranky when we're uncomfortable, irritable when the temps are outside of our preferred zone. Yet we were quite fortunate to have encountered some people recently who were positively lovely people even in the blazing heat that is becoming Doha. Granted they were natives to this land of Qatar, so they're used to it. One of them who works for a petroleum company had commented on how blasted hot it gets where he works when he goes out into the field. Yet at the same time he and his friends were friendly and jovial as they helped us start our vehicle after we let our battery discharge by leaving the lights on. At one point we were unsure if we would get enough of a charge off of the vehicle we were connected to and were seeking a place to drift start it (gotta love a manual transmission) and the one guy said, "My friends will help you push it, of course." Warm smiles and handshakes as we parted company left us very pleased with the experience and the new acquaintances we had made.

That followed on the heals of a dealing with a very nice 23-year-old man working at Qtel, our local telecom provider. Having just changed villas we needed to get Internet, phone and TV connected and that meant a trip to Qtel. We love the branch at Villagio because we've always found the people working there to be polite, helpful and of a generally good disposition. Some other dealings with local companies and government offices have not felt quite as positive and the workers have not always been so accommodating, even some other Qtel branches have not been excessively pleasurable experiences. This one is different though. For whatever reason we get in and out, usually quickly, with everything taken care of. The young man working there was quite interested in conversation as he was entering our details and making the arrangements, and as we parted company with him we commented to each other on how fortuitous it was to have stopped there that evening.

Now, what exactly does this have to do with the heat? Well, nothing really. It's more a matter of examining how we are not necessarily defined by our circumstances. A visit to Qtel and a drained battery could have easily been a rotten evening. We met people who made our circumstances much more pleasant and we arrived back home with smiles upon our faces.

Earlier in the day, I had taken the opportunity to have a little stroll on the track at the school. It's become a bit of a routine to walk on the track for about 20-30 minutes each day when I find a break in the action. That varies from day to day, and I'm still technically on call during those times. Mobile phone for calls and iPod Touch for email, either of which could send me elsewhere on campus at a moment's notice. Still, walking allows me to collect my thoughts a bit and gets me out from behind my computer, where I've spent a lot of time recently getting some work done toward the end of this school year and the beginning of the next. So as I'm taking my walk one of our administrators says to me, "I can't believe you're out walking in this heat. Don't you know it's 46 degrees?" Keep in mind that he's Canadian and that 46 is Celsius, so do the math and you'll understand that it was quite warm. My reply? "I have my water and it's about the only time I have to get a little exercise. Besides if I do it now in this heat nothing I will face in the States this summer will bother me." He smiled, nodded in agreement and walked off, most likely thinking I'm a complete lunatic.

The heat indeed is on. The weather is hot. There's work left to be done. Things happen. Yet, at the end of it all it's our attitudes in those circumstances that matter.

A Thing Or Two About Mothers...

Some have said that I have an impeccable sense of timing. Others have said I get it right every once in a while. Either way, with Mother's Day right around the corner I guess now is as good a time as any to say a few things about mothers and motherly behavior. No, this won't be sappy like a Hallmark card with flowers, lace, cute little puppies and a sound clip of some gosh awful Barry Manilow song. Actually this is more an observation of what a mother is from my perspective.

Now, I don't really know what it means to be a mother. I do know however what it is to have one. Actually I've lucked out a bit in that department and have a couple of them. No, my father was not a member of some polygamist cult, and I'll thank you for not continuing to spread those horrid rumors. It has not been good for my reputation and it has the neighbors staring at me in a rather peculiar way whenever I leave the house. That aside, I do believe I am qualified to give commentary on mothers from a son's perspective.

First off, what is the job of a mother? What does she do anyway? Some would say she is the loving comforter among the parents. Some suggest she's the cook when friends are over. Still others say she's the person who keeps the house and has dinner ready on time for everyone to sit around the table and chow down. As nice as this sounds, it barely scratches the surface.

We have two dogs, and even though both are spayed females and neither has ever had a litter, and they are less than six months apart in age, I can draw some lessons from observing them. In fact, quite recently some of my observations have shed light on what being a mother is really all about. It's really not about conception, incubation and birth. I say that because I've seen one of our dogs act in a very motherly way toward the other, and they are entirely unrelated. On many occasions the older one will lie down beside the younger one and lick her a bit to clean her up, much like most of our mothers did for us when we were infants, only they put us into the bathtub instead because there was too much surface area on us to lick clean without running out of saliva. But she doesn't just clean the other dog up a bit. She also occasionally forgets that she's a dog and tries to hatch the other dog's head by sitting upon it. Now how is this motherly behavior, you ask? Easy. From time to time mothers need to demonstrate who is really in charge by sitting on their childr...I mean by putting their children in their place. And it's always for their own good, or so we've been told.

But motherhood isn't always that much fun. You can't sit on your children all the time and claim to be a candidate for Mother of the Year. It takes a more complete skill set than that. It involves acquiring skills that people spend lots of time and money mastering, but mothers do it without pay. They are chauffeurs in really large automobiles. I've seen mothers here in Doha driving vehicles large enough to live in and give each child his own room, with closets. I have a theory that some quite possibly might have indoor plumbing for such a purpose. On top of that, mothers have to be somewhat proficient in the skills of a nurse, at least a triage nurse. Bandages, kisses on boo-boos and an excessive supply of virtually any liquid that can sting like a nest of hornets when applied to a scrape or cut are her specialties. Many people spend years of their lives in college learning such skills. Mothers do it instinctively, and again without pay. Frequently mothers are highly skilled chefs, mastering everything from canned ravioli to a Thanksgiving smorgasbord. Friends who randomly show up are always welcome too. Mothers don't really seem to mind too much.

Exterminators. They can overcome paralyzing fears of mice, spiders, roaches, and the neighborhood bully to successfully dispatch them all. Some take care of such problems with a paper towel (with a healthy dose of ether for the bully) while others become trick shot artists with a shoe. No matter what though, they seem to find a way to get things taken care of, probably all while cooking some elaborate roast for the evening meal.

Experts at math. Many a mother has taken time to help her children get homework done. OK, so the homework may not be done right, but it is done. And all because of a mother's love.

So really, what is it that makes a mother? It's an unwavering sacrifice of self. Caring, sharing, loving, shouting, hugging, smacking, feeding, and ordering an occasional night in a bedroom without dinner. Most of all, it's doing what she believes is the best thing for her children and trying to prepare them to become good adults.

The mother figures in my life, both mother and stepmother, were not perfect. It wasn't their job to be perfect. It was to do what they believed was right for me. Did they succeed? Well, I'm still alive and I'm not in jail. I learned a lot from them. For example, I know that a hatchet and green paint in hand with the neighbor's white picket fence chosen as a subject for modern art won't endear a five year old boy to those neighbors. I really did only want to make it look nicer. Honest.

I guess what I'm getting at is that a mother is more than just a biological contributor to a child's DNA. A mother will love you no matter what, and hopefully will be able to forgive you for all of those things she still doesn't know about.

Anyway, since Mother's Day is upon us and I have two people to call (oh, and my wife will certainly want to call her mother too) I'm going to wrap this all up and wish all mothers a Happy Mother's Day. Thanks for everything.

Pride of the Yankees

Anyone who has ever seen The Pride of the Yankees recalls vividly Gary Cooper's incredible performance playing Lou Gehrig, the Yankees' great first baseman from those amazing teams of the 20s and 30s. So potent was the 1927 Yankees lineup that included Gehrig, Ruth, Meusel, and Lazzeri that it became known as Murderer's Row. Gehrig was a mainstay with the Yankees, playing 2,130 consecutive games through aches and pains. He was voted the greatest first baseman ever by the Baseball Writers Association in 1969, and not many have come along since that could challenge what Gehrig accomplished. It seems the only thing that finally slowed down the Iron Horse was a cruel disease. Gehrig was stricken with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, a motor neuron disease that progressively weakens a person through muscle atrophy to the point that it is terminal for most people within five years.

Gehrig gave a famous speech in Yankees Stadium in which he said:

Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans.

Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day? Sure, I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t consider it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins? Then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Sure, I'm lucky.

When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice versa, sends you a gift — that’s something. When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies — that’s something. When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles with her own daughter — that's something. When you have a father and a mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body — it's a blessing. When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed — that's the finest I know.
So I close in saying that I might have been given a bad break, but I've got an awful lot to live for. Thank you.

Gehrig's farewell speech encapsulated his view of life quite succinctly. He did not believe that he had been given a raw deal. He did not think of himself as royally screwed. No, he valued the blessing he'd been given and the experiences he'd had. He showed dignity and class in the face of adversity.

They say you never know the true character of a person until you see him in the worst of circumstances. I know a man who reminds me a bit of Gehrig. A colleague and friend is facing the same cruel adversary that Gehrig's name is forever attached to. He is fighting a difficult battle with ALS. And yet in the face of insurmountable odds he carries on. His fight is not one that can be won, but the way those battles are fought shows the true character of the warrior. This man is a warrior who is fighting the brave fight. He is a model for the rest of us and I am proud to call him my friend.



This man is the one who brought me to Doha, seeing in me the qualities of a teacher that would fit in well at the American School of Doha. There are people that we meet and we remember the circumstances quite vividly. I remember Skyping to interview for the job and seeing him in his office with palm trees outside his window. I remember his friendly smile and pleasant demeanor putting me at ease as I pondered making the leap to the Gulf. I even remember vividly enough the first meeting that I recall exactly what I was wearing. That is the profound impact that some people have on others. Not everyone has it, but those that do are truly unforgettable.

My friend is leaving today to spend time with his family back home. He has earned the opportunity to be with them and to take as complete advantage as possible of the time he has remaining. I will remember what I am wearing today, for I am wearing black in remembrance of a friend and a colleague I am likely not to see again in this life. My friend, thank you for being a fine example of compassion and discipline, listening and leading, struggling and persevering no matter what the odds. You are an inspiration.

Games Geeks Play

I've long pondered what an Olympiad would look like if left to the inhabitants of the United States' deep south. I have these visions of toilet seat horseshoes, pole vaulting out of the bull ring, and the cannonball high dive. However, as of late my mind has wandered a bit more in the direction of wondering what geek Olympiad would look like.

Now before you go getting all upset with me and accuse me of lobbing nasty words like "geek" around carelessly let me just be on the level and declare proudly that I am a geek. It's OK. I'm comfortable with that. I revel in it sometimes, especially when I have three or four different desktop operating systems running at the same time -- on the same computer.

So why might I have such a sudden interest in envisioning a steady stream of awkward people who can spell their names in binary code from memory participating in such a series of events? Probably because of this last weekend's happenings. See I coach a robotics team at my school and we have just participated in our culminating event of the year. 33 teams from all over the region gathered here in Doha to compete in the Botball Challenge at Carnegie Mellon University - Qatar. Our team went, competed and finished second. We were strongly in the running to win it too, but a couple of unforeseen issues snagged us and we had to settle for second. Still, this is a huge accomplishment for a team of students who will all return next year, save the lone senior who was our most skilled programmer.

Out of this it occurs to me that there are indeed games that geeks play that collectively could be consolidated into an Olympiad of sorts. Aside from the robotics work our kids did we had two other teams compete in a programming competition at CMU-Q, finishing second and fourth respectively. Definitely another geek game there as it's just not something that the rest of society does with great regularity. But the people we teach thrive on these things. Place them in front of a bank of computers, or better yet let them bring in their own laptops, and watch them bask in the glow of a backlit monitor. They draw energy from it. They are like plants in the sunlight, undertaking a form of digital photosynthesis. Oddly enough, after a time you will notice that they even lean toward their monitors as if soaking up radiation from the EMF put off by the devices themselves. It's almost a symbiotic relationship, where the computer draws digital stimulation from the student and the student gets mental nourishment from the computer. Quite a sight to behold, and quite gratifying when you've invested so much time in working with the kids to see them take on the same enthusiasm you have.



So where does this grand spectacle that is geek sport go from here? For us, it takes us to preparation for our next competition. We must defend our national championship in the National Robot Olympiad and hope to be a strong enough team next year to get to Manila to compete at the world level again. We are quite proud of our team this year. They are a great group of kids. They will be missed when they have gone, but we will expect great things from them in the future when they have gone on to compete in mental sports at the professional level.

You Should Have Heard Just What I Seen.

The vintage song Who Do You Love by Bo Diddley has that famous line in it. An incredible music artist whose music inspired some incredible acts, and a great guitarist that the world lost almost two years ago. Sometimes I just have that urge to listen to the old rock and blues classics, and Bo is one that periodically whets my musical palette. Not a great vocalist in the classic sense, but the deep down feeling in his music was what helped set him apart from many others of his generation. He inspired the likes of Buddy Holly, Jimi Hendrix, and Clapton (if you need me to include a first name you've lived a deprived life.)

So why am I having one of those Bo Knows moments? Well, I'm looking back upon the week or ten days that have just passed and somehow it seems that in that time period I've seen a significant variety of stuff in just a day to day life. Someone I know once quipped that Doha is one of those rare places where you can see a Lamborghini and a truck load of goats on the same street. This is truer than most people realize, and extends well beyond just the fancy cars and livestock scenario.

For starters, we had the annual Powderpuff Football game at school. Now, a bunch of girls playing football is actually a lot of fun, especially when they've obviously put time into preparation for it. But what do you do when a bunch of junior and senior guys wear their cheerleader outfits to school on the last school day before the game? I for one gained a new-found appreciation for abayas. I've always found it interesting how well Scots can pull it off but it doesn't necessarily translate well to other cultures. Case and point:



So, with that behind us attention turned to other things, like bidding farewell to a couple of colleagues. Our principal is leaving us this year, and not necessarily on terms any of us might have preferred. He is struggling with an illness that will eventually consume him, and yet through it all he has persevered and has been an example to the rest of us of determination and class. A beautiful dinner on the lawn at the home of one of the employees was a fitting send-off to a good man and a fine leader. He and his wife, also in the school's employ, will be missed here. We shared some good times, good food, and wonderful tributes to a man who has helped shape this place into a great environment. Emotional for sure, but in a celebratory sense rather than one of mourning.

That dinner fell in the midst of our conference softball tournament. The names on the lineups make Major League Baseball's rosters look like the member registry at Augusta National Golf Club. Students from all over the region playing softball was quite a sight to behold. Not all of them were especially good, and in fact the caliber of play was frequently somewhere between Little League baseball and a Chinese fire drill. Still, a lot of fun to watch and a couple of very good championship games.

On the subject of colleagues and things going on with them, one of our teachers is an exceptional artist. Actually several are, but this one in particular has done work of a high enough quality to have its own exhibition. The Grand Hyatt was a nice place to attend a beautiful art exhibit, complete with nice snacks, good conversation and some gorgeous works. Of course no evening at the art expo would be complete without leaving someone confused, at least when I'm describing completion from my perspective. As Crystal and I, having completed the rounds through the exhibit, were standing off to the side and at the end of one of the displays, we were taking up casual conversation and doing nothing in particular. Apparently though it must have appeared that we were somewhat taken by an obscured piece of art as another colleague approached us to see what we were so intently looking at and conversing about. Upon seeing nothing on the wall she turned to us and commented on the stunning revelation that we were not even remotely engaging in a conversation about art, to which we informed her that it was our plan all along to lure some unsuspecting soul into our trap.

Now, anyone who has spent any length of time in this part of the world knows that rain is a luxury that even the greatest wealth of the shaikhs can't buy. We have to take it when we can get it, and in the last two weeks we've seen rain four times. Softball in the rain, happily just enough to knock down the dust, was quite pleasant. Then earlier this week we saw thunder and lightning the likes of which I had never seen. The sky was literally lit up constantly and the low roll of thunder carried on for the longest time. I actually got up to go out and see what was happening outside as the regularity of the flashes had me thinking there was an emergency vehicle with lights on in our neighborhood. Instead we were treated to quite the display of mother nature's light show.

Finally, last night we paid a visit to the Qatar Marine Festival, mainly because Crystal was keen to see the sand sculptures that were being created by artists from the world over. I would hardly suggest that I could do justice in a description and instead think these pictures say all that needs to be said.







Spectacular is a great description. Now, this is why Bo's words ring so true.

I'm Ready for a Long Vacation

The album Raised on Radio is one of my favorites by the band Journey. I love the song Be Good to Yourself, one of the best on a great album. I'm especially taken with the the last line in the first verse, the one I've chosen for the title of this entry. Why? Well, because it's how I feel right now. I'm ready for a little time out of the sandbox and back in the States.

I get this way toward the end of the school year every year. I start to feel ready for summer, perhaps a bit of senioritis plaguing me much like it does the kids who start checking out in November. On the other hand, I know that there is much that remains to be done so I can't exactly take two months off. Still, fighting the urge to clock out for April and May isn't something that most of use easily dismiss. We all feel that urge, and now that we live overseas the urge to be on a flight home to be with family and friends is all the stronger. I have to confess that I really do enjoy living abroad, and I am invigorated by all the awesome experiences it brings. It has changed my perspective on the world in so many ways, but I really do love the U.S. and am quite thankful to touch American soil every time we go home.

So now I look forward with great anticipation to time home as there's a very real possibility that we will be living in our own house again this year. Inspiration comes from many places and I can't help but feel myself a kindred spirit with Groucho Marx from time to time. His wit oftentimes mirrors my views on life in general, so his comment from Monkey Business seems quite appropriate: "Oh, why can't we break away from all this, just you and I, and lodge with my fleas in the hills? I mean... flee to my lodge in the hills." I'm ready to be in my house, if even for a short time, and enjoying the outdoors that surround it. I love the woods, the wildlife, the yellow jackets that nest along the timbers that border our driveway. OK, maybe not the yellow jackets. I definitely don't love them. In fact, I don't much like them. Nor do I feel warm fuzzies about the hornets that build nests the size of young watermelons on the sides of buildings and in bushes. There was that one time I nearly ran my brand new chainsaw into one of those nests, until I took a closer look at what I was about to cut. Let's just say I was happier not visiting the ER and leave it at that.

I still think it's a good thing for a person to get away from wherever he lives on occasion and go elsewhere. For us, home is in Qatar, but home is also in the U.S. where our best friends are. Home, as in where we live, will probably change several more times. We have no intention of stopping at Qatar. But we will always return to the States to enjoy a taste of home.

Why home? Well the obvious answer would be family and friends. Certainly they are important to us and we will spend the summer all over the place taking in their company. But there are many other things to enjoy. The occasional thunderstorm. Grass. Bathrooms without bidets. The smell of spent gunpowder. My truck. Gasoline that's five times as expensive as it is here -- or not. Actually I'm not looking forward to prices approaching $4/gallon, but I can buy it at Costco and save a few pennies after picking up groceries in industrial sized containers. Mayonnaise by the 55 gallon drum anyone? Maybe a cryo-vac sealed side of beef?

Anyway, I've passed the point where I have days off to look forward to. Those are all behind me for the year. I now have summer in my cross-hairs and I'm prepared to set it in motion. I'll persevere like Robert Frost, with "miles to go before I sleep," but once those miles have passed and I can check out for the summer I promise you that I shall take full advantage of that "sleep" to get the R&R that I'm so looking forward to enjoying. Then in August I will be quite happy to return to Doha, pick up my furry critters and settle back into a routine again, only to start the cycle over again.

One Night in Bangkok

I'm reminded of the old Murray Head song One Night in Bangkok, especially now that my last night here on this visit has passed by. As I reflect back on the time here I'm seeing some striking contrasts, much like the song which was set around a championship chess tournament hosted in the city. The gist of the song was that in the midst of all the seedy neighborhoods there are still signs of class and sophistication. Certainly we have seen both sides since we've been here.

In the time we've been here we've had lavish dinners in fine hotels, and we've sampled things off of the street, some of which we're not entirely sure what it was. OK, we know what it was but we can't identify the parts themselves. Fortunately nothing crossed our palettes that appeared to be made of a feline or canine nature. I'm not sure that our two loving 80 pound balls of fur in Doha would approve, and I am sure that they would know.

We've also seen fine automobiles on the streets, Mercedes, BMW, and so forth (including the beautiful E-class Benz outside the Sheraton) and we've ridden in a tuk tuk. Taxis? Another story entirely, and perhaps at some future point I will conduct an analysis of the taxi rides I've taken around the world. In the meantime, I'll keep my focus on thoughts about Bangkok.

I suppose it would be appropriate to hone in on the things we found the most interesting after giving a bit of time to expound upon some of the more disturbing things. Besides the weird is a good hook and you know you'll finish reading this if I give you the dirt up front. You never know -- I might just leave some dirt at the end too. But you'll have to read to find out.

Bangkok is not without its bars and sleazy places. Certainly nobody who has ever seen a movie set in Thailand would be lured into believing that it's all clean and family-oriented. The movies don't exactly lie, and in fact many of them are spot on with the women of the evening dutifully patrolling the streets seeking to rid them of scum by incarcerating them, albeit temporarily, in a no-tell motel. Oddly enough I began growing accustomed to the weird guys hanging out on the street corners, especially those that were strategically located near the aforementioned deluxe accommodations, distributing fliers for all sorts of strange things. It was not totally different than meeting an Amway distributor in some ways. He was trying to sell you something overpriced and not exactly of better quality than what you're already using in the hopes that you will part with your hard-earned money based on a picture in a catalog.

Even the taxi drivers were into the whole sales thing. One guy that drove us to a restaurant actually walked back in to inquire as to whether we were interested in going to the "ping pong show." Apparently ping pong involves some rather creative tricks with ping pong balls by women who have talented nether regions. How odd it was to have the guy approach us at our table and inquire about our interest. Had he been a westerner I am certain that his line would have been something to the effect of, "I'm apologize for I have been quite remiss in failing to offer you one of Bangkok's finest forms of entertainment. We have the most exquisite ping pong demonstrations you have ever seen and I would be quite pleased to deliver you to a suitable venue for an absolutely extravagant display of talent. May I interest you in such an event?" Not that we were terribly interested in ping pong (the real kind) anyway, but we definitely didn't want to take in an evening of juggling hoo-hahs and trumpets played from various orifices.

On the subject of salespeople, one certainly could make the case that the vendors on the streets were prime candidates for promising careers in used car sales. Seriously, a guy with a wristwatch fetish would have been in danger of an overdose at the Suan Lum Night Market. I finally looked at one of the guys hawking imitation Rolex watches and said, "If I wanted a watch I'd already be wearing one." His response? "How many you want?" Gotta hand it to them for persistence. I also recall some odd verbiage thrown around by one particularly cunning entrepreneur who referred to his watches as "genuine imitation Rolex" watches. Another westerner did manage a smile in my direction as I commented to my wife that "genuine" and "imitation" really don't belong together in that context. It's like saying that you're at the grocery store after "genuine imitation crab meat" when you could simply say "I'm going to the store to buy some processed squid." The way you say it really can make a difference to a less discriminating ear.

Now on the plus side, Bangkok has quite a lot to offer if you enjoy seeing Buddhist temples or snakes. We did visit the Wat Pho temple where the reclining Buddha is taking a nice long nap. Pretty cool overall, and the decorations were quite colorful.



On top of that we visited the Grand Palace which really wasn't much more than a large series of temples with a nice house stuck in the middle. Still, worth seeing.

Now snakes are an entirely different story. There were snake farms all over the area, including the one we visited in Thon Buri. Nothing like watching a guy tease a cobra then join him down in front to have a python wrapped around you to make you feel alive.



All in all, a trip well worth the taking. I would definitely go back, if only to suggest to some slick salesman that he's asking way too much money for a scantily-clad girl on the piece of cardboard he's waving about.

When All Else Fails, Play Dead

The title is not my own. I wish I could claim credit, but one of my favorite TV characters belongs to a lodge whose motto is "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati," loosely translated at "when all else fails, play dead." Somehow that seemed to work this week, quite well I might add.

So, here goes. We were at the airport in Doha, ready to go to security to get all of our stuff converted into radioactive waste, doing our usual cruising past the guy standing there with the job of telling people their carry-on bags are too heavy, too big, too smelly, too ugly, too pretty, too many or too whatever else he can come up with. Normally this is a simple walk-by with a nice smile and a wave, but this guy meant business that evening. He made me weigh my carry-on bag, only to find it to be one kilogram heavy. My wife's bag -- same fate. So thinking quickly I told him, "No problem, I'll just put my laptop in my backpack." Oh, no you don't mister. You do and you'll have two bags of carry-on and you're only allotted one in economy. Oops.

Back to the drawing board. We slunk on back to the other side of a pillar to figure out what we were going to discard. Laptop? No. Other laptop? No. Medical device? No. And no time to run home to drop a backpack. What ever shall we do? Well, we did have some snack foods we packed for the trip, not knowing how readily safe food would be available in Bangkok in the touristy areas. I suppose we could each eat a pound of dried apricots and a half pound of roasted cashews. Not sure that I'm interested in being quite that regular that fast though, especially heading into the land of awesome curries and hot peppers. I just don't think my digestive tract would forgive me if I dropped two bombs like that in such a short period of time. I think they call that an appetite for destruction.

Now, mind you this has taken us mere minutes to tear all of our stuff apart and debate which piece would stay and which would become the bait to start an all-out mad scramble in the airport among the indigenous population. Then, much to our delight we noticed that the aforementioned carry-on bag Deputy Fife abandoned his post and left it in the hands of the ever capable and newly deputized Gomer Pyle. Now, not to come off as being overly opportunistic, but in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that a thought occurred to both of us. We'd both like to claim credit for initializing the thought, although I'm pretty certain that simultaneous mental spontaneity is a real and documentable phenomenon, but to whomever the credit goes suffice it to say that it just worked. I call it a stroke of genius, a merging of inspiration and opportunity, a bright and shiny moment in the lives of the downtrodden to rise up and take command of a bad situation.

And we did just that. We seized the moment, threw our stuff back into our bags, one kilo too heavy or not, and strode confidently toward the new smiling and friendlier looking security guy who didn't miss a beat in waving us on through toward the paradise that awaited us in the security scanner lines.

Yes, we were through. We had challenged fate and we had won. When all else failed, we played dead and waited for the circling vulture to lose interest in the too-large pile of carrion. In that one fleeting moment I truly believe that I made all of the members of the Possum Lodge proud. They are my kindred spirits now. My friends, with conviction like none other I stand with my hands raised in front of my chest and my fingers curled under like a nocturnal scavenger and proclaim "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati."

Ain't Got No Home

Some years back Clarence "Frogman" Henry did a song entitled Ain't Got No Home. Lyrics began something like this:

I ain't got no home
No place to roam
I ain't got a home
No place to roam
I'm a lonely boy
I ain't got a home

I'm getting to know how the Frogman felt. We just got the notification about a week or two ago that we were moving to new accommodations, or at least new to us. Then this week we found out that we have a matter of days to pack our stuff to be ready to move to the new place.

Now not that I mind being sent to a new villa. In fact, I'm grateful for our school providing great housing. We're not going that far away from our current location, less than a mile as the crow flies. The new place is slightly smaller than the current one, but no big deal since we don't use all of this one anyway.

No, the reason Frogman and I see eye-to-eye is because this will be our third move in the last three years. Packed up, unpacked; packed up, unpacked; packed up again. On the plus side, this is the shortest move we've ever made. When we first got married and had an apartment we lived in it for two years. Then we moved about five miles to our first house. From there, five years later we moved about 20 miles to our second house. Then we made the first of our big moves: nearly 7000 miles to Qatar. Since then, a couple of miles from our flat to the villa last year and now this one. The way I see it the next time we move should be from the new place to the one next to it. Then we'll just move from one room to another.

We are moving from this place:



But definitely not moving into this:



No it's definitely somewhere in between. However, timing is everything and considering we leave on Tuesday night for another location several thousand miles away, time is of the essence in getting things packed. Come to think of it, what am I doing writing this instead of packing? Let's crank up a little Frogman and get to work.

Something Lost in Translation

Strange as it may sound, I believe I speak about five different languages now, and only one of them is actually a non-English language. I've found so many occasions where I've been given strange looks, or at least quizzical replies on Facebook, to things I've said using different terminology than is expected.

I suppose the most interesting aspect of this new revelation is how people who are educated and actually maintain professional careers (those that don't involve name tags and hairnets) can give blank stares at words that I take for granted. I've been left dumbfounded by inquiries and the complete meltdown that happens in a conversation when a word that I've integrated into my vernacular catches someone completely off guard. I get this expression quite a bit:



Of course it's not just these situations that result in peculiar looks. Periodically I find that I've lapsed into the dialect from the mother country. Having grown up in the southwestern part of Virginia, nearly in the heart of Appalachia, I have some colloquialisms that are not widely known to the world. When home, it's like we have our own little subset of the English language that we all understand. At some point most of us have seen Jeff Foxworthy and his "y'auntoo" and "aieght" monologue. There's a real truth in his words. On those occasions where I adopt the mother tongue I give my roots away, and the conversation becomes focused on explaining what on earth I just said. Ironically those can be some of the most exhilarating conversations when you get involved in a regional dialect comparison with someone else.

Then there are the adopted terms that come from living in a major multicultural environment. I am constantly incorporating terms from around the world into my vocabulary. Seems the main ones come from Australia and New Zealand. I'm not sure I entirely understand how they arrive at some of the expressions they use. I think it may have to do with the rush of blood to the head from being upside down all the time. I just know that "cheers" and "no worries" are now embedded in my vernacular. Maybe if I hang upside down from the garment bar in the closet for a while I'll cure myself.

Regardless of the reasons for why we communicate the way we do, what is very cool is that we are able to overcome the boundaries of spoken and written language to share life's experiences. Otherwise we run the risk of assuming the aforementioned blank stares (see picture posted above) on more occasions that we should.

I Second That Emotion...

I remember as a kid hearing Smokey sing it and how much I enjoyed his smooth soulful voice. He celebrated a birthday last month and I found myself perusing a message board where many people of all ages were wishing him a happy birthday. At 70 years old Smokey is still as smooth as he ever was. I suppose it's my love for his music that has led me to use one of his songs as the title for this post, not so much because I'm going through one of those "If you want to give me kisses sweet" moments, that will remain between my wife and I, but because of the range of emotions that the last week has brought. OK, so I stretched it just a bit to get it to work. Get over it.

Anyway, as I was saying -- the last week has come and gone and brought with it a wide range of emotions and it's just now dawning on me how that has come to pass. I'm amazed at how well we as human beings cope with such a wide array of experiences in such a short time, and even more so that we don't just absolutely lose it and go tearing through the grocery store throwing jars of pickles at the dairy cooler. Not that it wouldn't be good entertainment in and of itself, but that does seem to violate some social norms that are seriously taboo to contravene. So in the interest of maintaining my place among those free to aimlessly wander the streets of this city whenever I feel like it I've exercised a certain restraint and I've kept that particular emotional response in check. Instead I find other outlets to defray the weirdness that life seems so intent upon depositing in my corner of reality. I guess I sort of know how it would feel to have a nice shiny car that I just finished washing only to have an entire flight of eagles jettison excess weight during a flyover.

I'm thinking back to last weekend when I was pondering some future endeavors, including looking to continue my education. There was a real sense of excitement and some trepidation at the same time. Lots of work, plenty to get done in anticipation of being accepted into the program (I hope!!!) and thinking about being back into the college mode for another three years after eight years out of school.

Then we received some news that hit us like the proverbial ton of dog fur. I only use that analogy because I think I've collected enough recently to reach the requisite quantity. I'm still kind of reeling from what has transpired in my family in another part of the world. Not so much that I'm struggling with anything, but more that some news came down the line that was totally unexpected, on the heels of similarly surprising news from the same source only weeks prior. So within a matter of a couple of days I went from excited, cautiously optimistic, and a bit apprehensive to shocked. And yet I have persevered.

Work elicits various emotions as well, ranging from joy to frustration, to occasionally outright anger. I can say honestly that all of those reared their heads this week. I love working with my students, and I hope that my enthusiasm is evident each time they come into class and engage in a learning experience. At the same time, other responsibilities come calling at what seem like the most inopportune moments. And as living in a community that revolves largely around the school I find that everyone's business is everyone's business. Mine is no different, but when I find out things that affect me through the grapevine I do get a bit frustrated and occasionally angry. Let's just say that this week there were some seriously nervous gherkins in Doha.

Finally as the week closed I went to sit for my GRE. Driving in Doha can be nerve wracking anyway, much less to follow up a drive through town with an expensive test upon which your entire future hinges. OK, maybe it's not quite that monumental a test, but blowing two bills on it to not do well didn't exactly peg very high on my list of "gotta do" things for the week. The test itself was not really that bad although I'm still awaiting the final results. The main thing is I really don't want to experience that particular set of emotions again for some time.

The week was not entirely filled with stressful emotions. There were the great laughs and the levity that happens when among friends having a nice dinner and some TV. No tragedies in the truest sense, although needing the AC in our vehicle fixed in a country where temps are already approaching triple digits might constitute something close. Nothing that will put me on an airplane heading somewhere for an emergency, when life and death hangs in the balance. No, just a week of ups and downs.

So here I am, back at square one ready to confront another week almost certain to be full of emotions. Amazingly enough it will be another emotional roller coaster that I will survive, in all likelihood with those dill spears comfortably resting on the shelf and the sour cream as safe as if it were still in the cow. A week with predominantly edifying emotions will leave me content at week's end. But there are those weeks when we look back with a "can't believe I survived" sentiment. And in that case I don't want no part.

Here's to the start of a good week.

Never Miss an Opportunity to Laugh

If there's one thing in this world that I've learned it is that humor goes a long way toward offsetting the negative things we encounter. Case and point, yesterday evening we were out and about driving through Doha, en route to a friend's house for dinner, and we made a stop off at the Hyatt Plaza to check on Crystal's watch (may it rest in pieces) that we'd sent out for repair. Apparently sometimes I really learn slowly as I neglected to take the Friday night traffic into account. The roads were slammed and the parking lots were like a perpetual game of bumper cars. Ever played chicken with a half-cocked Arab in a Toyota Land Cruiser and nothing to lose? Makes gridlock on the DC Beltway look like a leisurely drive through the country. It had me seriously considering trading in my Land Rover for an Army surplus M1 Abrams. My brother is in the Army so I'm thinking that with a little gentle persuasion I might be able to get him to Klinger one to me (remember the episode of M*A*S*H when Klinger was mailing the jeep home piece by piece?)

Anyway, let's just say for the sake of keeping this G-rated that I was learning the art of controlling one's temper in the face of adverse driving conditions. Fortunately we did make our destination and were blessed with great company, good food and some American Idol.

Now, back to that humor thing. When we did finally get home last night I checked my Youtube channel to see if the video I'd uploaded earlier in the day was finally posting on my web site. I had uploaded it and an hour later my channel was still not showing it on the site, even though I could go directly to the channel and see it. So, with the relief at seeing it in place I enjoyed the good laugh that the video brought with it. Let's just say there's nothing like dogs placed in a strange environment while wearing non-standard attire to cause one to forget how nasty the local traffic is and enjoy a good laugh. Thank God for giving us a sense of humor.

The Joy of a Room Full of Teenage Roboticists

There's a lot that one can say about coaching a team, but most of the things that might be said don't really apply to a robotics team. I'm recalling the times I was involved in coaching sports, and those times really don't quite compare to what goes on in our team meetings.

I enter as exhibit 1 the remarkable difference in humor among athletes and techno-geeks. Athlete humor when I was growing up involved Ben-Gay placed in strategic locations inside someone's underwear. Humor with these guys involves making a blooper reel from team work sessions or hijacking someone's unattended login on the computer to send emails home. Athletes snap towels at each other in the showers after practice. Techno-geeks throw foam balls across the room hoping, usually against hope, to land the ball somewhere remotely near the target. I periodically wonder why they even bother throwing rather than constructing an apparatus that could launch the ball with a greater degree of accuracy. However, I dare not suggest that lest the unleash a barrage reminiscent of the artillery fire at Iwo Jima.

When in doubt about what is truly important one only need listen to a room full of geeks to figure out that these things are what matter: food, computer games, and discovering the secret that allows for faster-than-light travel. It's not much of a stretch to think that most people can figure out where the similarities between athletes and brain-sport competitors end. But that's not all bad. In fact, in a team meeting earlier this week the topic of how sci-fi can drive innovation came up and it was as if someone had turned on a heavenly light and angelic voices in the room. Suddenly it was as if all was right in the world and robots and man would live as one in peace and harmony -- like cats and dogs.

Fortunately that was the point at where the really off the wall thinking ended and they progressed to discussions about robotic dump trucks and cranes. Not as exciting as the aforementioned robotopia, but certainly not as other worldly either. Anyway, this year's competition season is under way and looking much better than last year. A taste of victory has whet the appetites of these guys and they are gelling like a real team. We've gotten more done in three team meetings this week than we did in three weeks last year.

Now that's not to say that it will all continue to go so well. There may be days when the air will be filled with nerf ordnance, but even those are well worth enduring to spend time with a great bunch of kids.

A New Venture

OK, here goes. For some time now I have used WordPress for blogging, but I have found it to be clunky and laborious. So I checked out Blogger and am much more satisfied with the overall look of it. Thus I'll be spending more of my blogging time here.

Anyway, having spent a little time recently out of the country in India at a conference I'm pretty excited to be back on in Qatar and ready to get to work with some of the things I picked up. Really found the experience to be invaluable, with some great people leading our workshop. The whole idea of a flat classroom is quite appealing to me. It's high time that we are involving our students in the overall teaching strategies discussion. They are major stakeholders and have quite a lot to offer when their minds are pointed in the right direction, and they are learning in a much different fashion than my generation did. I was inspired by the forward and "why not" attitude that the students in attendance at the conference exhibited. I am now working to adjust my thinking similarly and am actively looking for better ways to enhance the learning experiences I am providing.

It's not so much that I see myself needing to be an entertainer, and in fact that's not what education is all about. There can be plenty of work involved in it. Still just because you are busy working doesn't mean you aren't enjoying yourself. Education can be both hard and fun, and I would challenge my fellow teachers to aspire to the same goal of providing challenging and rewarding educational experiences that will build in our kids the skills they will need for the 21st century.