I'm blogging in a coffee shop, my tea steeping to my left while a kid plays with some sort of computer game between bites of bagel with his dad. It's Saturday morning and I feel rather unoriginal. But who needs to be novel all the time? Coffee shops and blogs are like bread and butter, oil and vinegar, port and chocolate.
Of course by 'coffee shop' I mean Tullys, and I'll be honest, they're not that friendly here. Sure, I get it. They served my coffee, what else can I ask? However, I was a barista once and feel entitled to demand a lot from my coffee 'experience.'
I had some thought going that I wanted to write, but it slipped. So here comes the stream of consciousness. I find myself with time on my hands because one of my students missed their drive. In case you didn't catch that, I'm a driving instructor, saving the world from stuff like in the picture. Saturday for me means no school, which means eight hours of driving-- or rather riding while teenagers drive. My job seems to be the source of endless conversation, always
starting with the question, "is it scary?"
Well, yeah. You hop on the freeway with a student who's never been there and attempt to merge among semi after semi with nothing but a flimsy brake on your side of the car
you can jump on if absolutely necessary and, yes, there's an element of courage under fire. However, you develop super powers. Really.
A day in the thoughts of a driving instructor would reveal to you a common theme: knowing the future. Okay, there's a car coming, he's not looking for it and not slowing down. He's about to throw us into traffic. I stop the car. Now he sees it.
I see the future. It's weird. There's gotta be a way to market this. But if you go to the circus, you're not going to want to come see The Amazing Driving Instructor. So I suppose we'll just keep our cover and continue to use our super powers as needed.
The Beach Boys are playing and now the dad to my right is asking this 5 year-old kid if he knows who they are.
"What, they weren't around when you were born?" he asks. The kid is oblivious.
Some of my students know who Mr. Miyagi is. Read that again, the key word being some. How did these students grow up in a home where The Karate Kid wasn't common fare? They worry me.
I laugh about students who don't understand the glory of, say, Goonies, but what actually worries me is the disrespect I see parents put up with on a regular basis. One of my students talks about how funny it was the time he flipped off his dad. Another gets impatient when her mom tries to confirm what time she's picking her up. Had I done any of the above to my parents I would no longer have five fingers on each hand and I would have walked home on a regular basis.
Yesterday we were talking about traffic signs. There are two versions of the hospital sign, one with a big "H," the other a serpent on a pole.
"Where does that come from?" asked a student.
I'm so glad you asked. I tell them about the ancient Hebrews and the Greeks and get the response "how do you know this?!"
Read your Bible, people. I don't say that, because the repercussions may be fierce, so I just say I read. But seriously, read your Bible. A snake on a pole is 'a puddle to the high seas before a storm,' to borrow from F. Morgenstern.
Of course by 'coffee shop' I mean Tullys, and I'll be honest, they're not that friendly here. Sure, I get it. They served my coffee, what else can I ask? However, I was a barista once and feel entitled to demand a lot from my coffee 'experience.'
I had some thought going that I wanted to write, but it slipped. So here comes the stream of consciousness. I find myself with time on my hands because one of my students missed their drive. In case you didn't catch that, I'm a driving instructor, saving the world from stuff like in the picture. Saturday for me means no school, which means eight hours of driving-- or rather riding while teenagers drive. My job seems to be the source of endless conversation, always
starting with the question, "is it scary?"Well, yeah. You hop on the freeway with a student who's never been there and attempt to merge among semi after semi with nothing but a flimsy brake on your side of the car
you can jump on if absolutely necessary and, yes, there's an element of courage under fire. However, you develop super powers. Really.A day in the thoughts of a driving instructor would reveal to you a common theme: knowing the future. Okay, there's a car coming, he's not looking for it and not slowing down. He's about to throw us into traffic. I stop the car. Now he sees it.
I see the future. It's weird. There's gotta be a way to market this. But if you go to the circus, you're not going to want to come see The Amazing Driving Instructor. So I suppose we'll just keep our cover and continue to use our super powers as needed.
The Beach Boys are playing and now the dad to my right is asking this 5 year-old kid if he knows who they are.
"What, they weren't around when you were born?" he asks. The kid is oblivious.
Some of my students know who Mr. Miyagi is. Read that again, the key word being some. How did these students grow up in a home where The Karate Kid wasn't common fare? They worry me.
I laugh about students who don't understand the glory of, say, Goonies, but what actually worries me is the disrespect I see parents put up with on a regular basis. One of my students talks about how funny it was the time he flipped off his dad. Another gets impatient when her mom tries to confirm what time she's picking her up. Had I done any of the above to my parents I would no longer have five fingers on each hand and I would have walked home on a regular basis.
Yesterday we were talking about traffic signs. There are two versions of the hospital sign, one with a big "H," the other a serpent on a pole.
"Where does that come from?" asked a student.
I'm so glad you asked. I tell them about the ancient Hebrews and the Greeks and get the response "how do you know this?!"
Read your Bible, people. I don't say that, because the repercussions may be fierce, so I just say I read. But seriously, read your Bible. A snake on a pole is 'a puddle to the high seas before a storm,' to borrow from F. Morgenstern.
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