"Optimist" is a word which here refers to a person who thinks hopeful and pleasant thoughts about nearly everything. For instance, if an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say, in a hopeful and pleasant voice, "Well, this isn't too bad. I don't have my left arm anymore, but at least nobody will ever ask me whether I am right-handed or left-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of "Aaaaah! My arm! My arm!"
- Lemony Snicket, The Miserable Mill
Sayyyy dakih bamoooooo Wayyyy dachih samoooots Say a chip again Reap a duck and grass
HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Again, something All our pretty guns And he likes to sing along And he likes to shoot his gun, but he DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS And I say HEEEEEEEEEEEE'S THE ONE And I like our pretty sun, and he Likes to sing along, and he Likes to shoot his gun, but he DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS
Meeee, kanab, samo Nature is a whore Eaaat some fruit Tan the retch and bloom
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEY
etc., etc.
And now, Nirvana's "In Bloom" as performed by Nirvana:
Sometimes it's a lot of fun. Sometimes it's very boring. And sometimes, it's downright awful, like on Friday, when I was called in to teach a cheer class. (Guess when they told me it was a cheer class, and not a health class? Minutes before the class began. Thanks, friends.) I called an audible and made it into a study hall, which quickly turned into a dozen shallow girls talking about their boyfriends, boys they want to make into boyfriends, and which character from Twilight they would rather take to prom. I am not making this up. I'm so glad I didn't know any cheerleaders in high school. I've written about this elsewhere, but it's been a long-standing policy of mine to keep my distance from hot girls.
Today, however, was a fun day, as it usually is when I head to an elementary school. (Did I mention I got to go to my first day of kindergarten a while ago? My parents skipped me out of kindergarten straight into first grade, so I never got a chance to go.) I was teaching fourth grade today, and it turned out to be the experience I never had, but always wanted, when I was nine (or ten, or however old fourth graders are). They all thought I was cool and wanted to tell me jokes and stories. One of the boys asked me if I wanted to play basketball with them at recess. This was, of course, an opportunity I never had as a fourth grader, being a year younger and only 3'4" or so. It was also an awesome experience, since I love basketball, but don't have the physique to play like I'd like to be able to. Even if I were any good at the game, I'm short enough that I'd probably be a guard. I've always wanted to be a dominating center, grabbing the ball down low and stuffing it into the basket with a mighty flourish. Like I said before, I'm not an especially tall person, but when you're playing with kids that are 4'2", 5'9" is pretty intimidating.
So I got to play center. I got to go up for dunks down low and grab rebounds out of the air with ease. It was an awesome feeling. I think I put up a line of 2 points, 10 rebounds, and a couple of blocks in about ten minutes (while keeping injuries to a minimum). It also turns out fourth graders are my peers in terms of basketball skills. They can't make a shot to save their lives. Neither can I, thus the paltry two points.
So if you're looking for some easy and fun work, consider becoming a substitute teacher. You just might get a chance to dunk on a fourth grader's face. Or you might end up teaching cheer.
