The Rapist in the Neighborhood

Have you felt someone watching you?

Have you heard a noise in the house and have been convinced someone is there?

Have searched for an intruder with a baseball bat/butcher knife/gun in hand?

Have you walked around the outside of your home at two in the morning, certain that someone is hiding in the bushes?

Fear captivates us all.

When I was a child, we lived near a convicted rapist. This is no joke, but this is before the time of sex offender websites. (Have you explored those and found the creeps in your neighborhood? It’s frightening.)

But our rapist did not keep to himself. He enjoyed the attention. He had a large tree in his front yard, a trunk as wide as a car, leaves like a cloud that hid his window.

He knew the neighbors knew about him. He knew the neighbors were terrified of him.

My grandmother was convinced he was out for her. In her 60s at that time, she cried at night, “He’s gonna get me! I just know it!” I laughed and replied, “Grandma, I doubt he wants those 60 year old chicken legs.” She frowned at me and locked her door.

Then the most interesting thing happened in our neighborhood. He used large, white adhesive tape and wrote a letter on the car-sized trunk of his tree each day. The first letter was “I.”

“What does it mean?” the neighbors asked.

The next day he wrote the letter “A.”

We held our breath and waited for the next day. The new letter was “M.”

“I am… I am what?” the neighbors wondered.

Then he followed a 14 year old girl home from the park. My friends and I spent an evening planning a battle.

“What should we do?” I asked my older, wiser neighbor friend. He was 16.

“Eggs,” he said with confidence. “Eggs.”

The next day, with that obnoxiously large white tape, he put up the letter “W.” We responded by tossing eggs at his front door and windows, laughing at these adult fears with a childlike naivety.

His message continued, one letter each day. After “W” came “A.” Then “T.” Then “C.” And then “H.” Next was “I.” Then “N.” And “G.” And then “Y and O and U.”

“I AM WATCHING YOU,” my grandmother read, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. But he wasn’t done.

On the next day after the message was complete, he used the white tape to construct a smiley face. That was the last thing he wrote on his tree.

“I AM WATCHING YOU :)”

The older boys in the neighborhood had more than enough. They moved from eggs to baseball bats, and in one crazy night, they took the bats to his door, to his car, and to his windows. They bashed in the door, shattered the glass windows all along the front and sides of his house, and turned his cheap car into a nothing more than an incredibly dented piece of metal.

He called the cops on those kids, as I watched from the sidelines. I don’t know what happened to those brave and obnoxious teens. I was forced to go inside by my parents.

Later that summer, we read an article in the local paper about this man. He was arrested, thankfully, once again. He was caught by a police officer masturbating in a park while watching children. I had never been so disgusted in my young life.

This is one of the creepiest memories from my childhood at home, and I think he’d make a great villain in one of my stories. It took place in the early 90s, before the time of cell phones and internet. It was one of the last years before we could search online for predators. We lived in fear and ignorance. We had to read the paper each day for updates, as nothing was instant. And no one could post photos of the letters he put up on his tree each day to publicly condemn his behavior.

My grandmother really did think she would be attacked. This pervert really did stalk a 14 year old girl. We really did egg his house, and several older boys really did violently destroy much of his property. And they were punished while he smiled with his letters on his tree, that is until he was caught doing a disgusting public act near children.

He will be a villain in one my stories. He will do terrible things. And he will be punished for it.

Sting, a poem

Lots of metaphors here need to be strengthened. If you've been following my blog, you know a lot of this is my writing practice, a place to think and create. Here's a little poem I played with for about fifteen minutes. Not nearly enough time to make something great, but I'm keeping up with my goal of writing once a day. Have comments for strengthening the metaphors and clarifying the image? Share if you wish. But be kind. It's a lot easier to write about a random thought or insight in fifteen minutes than it is to construct a poem! This will be something I'd like to return to later and revise.

Sharp and surprising, that stinger.

The bee is gone before the pain sets in.

Rubbing my hand, there’s nothing to see

But a red mark and inflamed skin.

Where did it come from?

The villain is gone now, not a scent in the air.

I wonder about pain. I wonder about beauty.

I wonder about flowers and bees and perfect harmony.

There is beauty all around.

Look at that butterfly by the flower.

There is pain all around.

Look at the bruise on my hand.

Memories are like this.

A shock to the system from out of the blue.

One moment a smile. One memory a tear.

Dangerous hives bring sweet honey.

Life will bring you pleasure and pain.

There is no day without night, no spring without rain.

And joy can bring a powerful sting.

Even the most beautiful of days have bruises.

To a Dear Friend, With Love

This post is dedicated to a dear friend.

We are a part of nature. We know that as a part of nature, we live and we will someday die. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less sad, however. It’s a way of trying to be logical with our minds, but when it comes to death, it’s our hearts that are torn apart, and no logic or reasoning can sooth the pain of a broken heart.

It’s particularly tragic when someone far too young passes away. We view our lives with a series of milestones, and it’s deeply sad to know the many years of joy someone will never know. We cannot beat ourselves up on what we could have done. We must mourn and grieve, cry and yell. But we also must remember and celebrate life, take care of those around us, celebrate the years someone had, even if they were far too short.

I know a good mother. When talking to her about visiting a troubled son, she once told me, “I’m going to hug him and kick his ass. But probably not in that order.” She loved him no matter his mistakes, like a good mother. She did everything in her power to discipline and help him, like a good mother. She was always there for him. I hope you know that. We always have a thought that we could have done more. But you did everything you could. Everything.

It is not right for the old to bury the young. It is not right for a parent to bury a child. It is not right and it is not fair, and I can think of nothing worse in life.

My dad passed away at too young of an age. Only in his early 60s, he should have had many golden years to live and laugh. I had to see him die slowly, moving from hospital to hospital, from nursing home to nursing home, with no brothers or sisters to help, as I was an only child. When he passed, my family knew it was also a blessing because he was in so much pain. But still I suffered and cried. I remember trying to go to bed that first night, but I began sobbing uncontrollably. It hit me like the flu, powerful and terrible and uncontrollable. I moved from the bed to the bathroom, where I sobbed by the toilet. I will never forget that night, as I have never experienced such painful sorrow.

But even with that: I knew it was coming. I knew he would pass, and I guess you could say I was blessed that I had months to prepare for it. I cannot imagine the shock of losing a loved one, especially a young and healthy loved one. No preparation. No chance to say a final good-bye. It’s the epitome of tragedy. What does one do?

I don’t know. I’m not an expert and I have not experienced that. Cry. Cry a lot. Never be ashamed of tears or emotions. Cuss. Cuss a lot. Never be ashamed of the power of words. Pray. Pray a lot. Search for a deeper meaning. When those stages pass (and really they never do—I will be doing fine for months, and a memory of my father hits me like a bee sting out of nowhere and those emotions come back all over again), I think we have to learn and celebrate. Cherish the stories and the photos. Do something in his memory. Find a purpose to fulfill the emptiness. Celebrate the years he lived and all the times he helped others and made someone smile.

Who isn’t terrified of death? Who doesn’t absolutely dread the day we must deal with the loss of a loved one? We will have those days, and if you are fortunate to have many loved ones, then you may experience many such days over a lifetime.

I’ve always thought that you can’t fight emotion with logic. We will think that we could have done more, we will be terribly sad, we will hate the world that caused this, and we will cry. Telling yourself it’s not your fault is logical, but it doesn’t help. The only way I know how to fight emotions is to be emotional. Let the tears flow. But find ways to smile and laugh. Find positive emotions to fight the negative, and live your life. Your life is every bit as special too, and we cannot forget to live while mourning the death of a loved one.

This all may be garbage, who knows. But when I want to reflect, I take to pen or paper (or a keyboard).

Dear friend. I am here for you. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. Please know that there are many people who love you, people who will help you stand tall when you feel weak.

All my love,

Joe

P.S. I know you’ve probably seen this before. I’m not shy in sharing it. I read it at my dad’s memorial, and it holds deep meaning for me. This is an excerpt from Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays With Morrie.

“I heard a nice little story the other day,” Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.

“Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He’s enjoying the wind and the fresh air — until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore."

“‘My God, this is terrible,’ the wave says ‘Look what’s going to happen to me!’”

“Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, ‘Why do you look so sad?’"

“The first wave says, ‘You don’t understand! We’re all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn’t it terrible?’"

“The second wave says, ‘No, you don’t understand. You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.’"

I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again.

“Part of the ocean,” he says. “Part of the ocean.” I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.

The Best Fitness Class is . . .

For those of you who have been reading this blog, I like to write a lot about accomplishing goals and striving for success. I'm also sharing little short stories and creative writing pieces at times, as one of my goals is to practice my writing. Fitness, however, is a huge part of my life, and I want to share some fitness motivation with you. And as a teaser, if you keep reading, I'm going to tell you what the BEST fitness class is!

No matter what you do in life or what you want to accomplish, I have always encouraged others to incorporate fitness. It sharpens the mind. It energizes us, we feel better, and we sleep better. When all of that happens, you find that you have more energy and greater focus for the other things you wish to accomplish. There’s just no excuse not to do it! And if you want to tell me that you’re too busy: foolishness! I can promise you that I'm pretty busy too. But I find time to brush my teeth every day because that’s important. You can find time to exercise too. Because it's important!

I love some time on my own in a weight room or out on a run, bike ride, or hike. It’s good to have that meditative, independent time. But what I want to do here is encourage you and challenge you to get involved in group exercise. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for my fitness.

In group exercise, I’ve made new friends and found many new mentors and inspirations. I’m motivated by the great music and the fun atmosphere. I learn more about fitness and technique all the time. And I work harder and make the most of my time. You can get a great workout on your own, of course. But you will be motivated MORE, learn MORE, and have MORE fun in a fun setting with other participants chasing a goal similar to yours all the while being led by a motivated and trained fitness leader. My point: You get MORE out of group fitness!

I’ve been a certified fitness instructor for over three years now, and I work at a facility with dozens of great classes. So what should you try? And what’s the best? Let me tell you about a few of my favorites. These are some of the classes offered at the fitness center where I teach.

BODY PUMP: This is a full-body strength class that uses barbells and dumbbells. It’s fantastic for toning, weight loss, strength, and endurance. The moves are matched to music, and it’s always a motivating and rewarding class!

P90X LIVE: P90X LIVE is the group format of the classic home DVD series. Like Pump, you’ll get an amazing strength and endurance workout. It’s not choreographed to music; it’s more of a boot camp (do this one move for one minute), so if you prefer to work at your own pace but still have a motivating group environment, it’s a great option for you.

BODY COMBAT: What a great martial arts inspired class! You punch and kick your way to a leaner body with the spirit of a fighter. Moves are choreographed to music, but they are easy to follow and learn. You’ll feel like Rocky at the end of a workout!

TURBO KICK: Like Combat, it’s punching and kicking, but if Combat is the main fight, then Turbo is the victory celebration after the fight! It has a lot of athletic moves and a rave-like feel. There's a ton of variety to the choreography and you will never be bored. This class is all about energy and creating that party-like atmosphere.

BODY FLOW: It’s the ultimate yoga + Pilates class that leaves you feeling calm and refreshed. You’ll stretch the body and strengthen the core and end with meditation and relaxation. It’s an absolutely beautiful workout-- good for the body, mind, and soul.

RPM/Spinning: Who doesn’t love a bike? Now, add a fun instructor and high-energy music and take a spin with a group of motivated people! You’ll use resistance to burn mega calories and strengthen the body all in a fun and challenging atmosphere.

There are a ton of other classes, but I won’t lie: The above are my favorites to take. I teach P90X and Turbo Kick, but respect all of the classes. I recently got certified in KettleWorX and look forward to adding the uniqueness of kettle bell training to my workouts too.

Now, what’s the best?

The answer is simple. The best fitness class is the one you do. We all take pride in our individual interests, but egos aside, what matters most is that you are active. If you take a class, you’ll learn new things every time you workout. It’s not just working out; it’s an education too! And when you’re surrounded by other people and a motivating instructor, you will find yourself working harder than if you were on your own.

One of the common themes I write about when it comes to achieving goals is this: it’s often the positive influence of others that really help you succeed. The same is true for fitness. Try different classes and find a format that you like. You won’t like them all, and that’s ok. That’s why we have so many! There is something for everyone. You’ll find encouraging instructors and supporting participants like yourself, and when you put that together, you will get better results and will learn to enjoy exercise.

Do you have a favorite class? Why do you love it? Let me know in the comments. 

Who am I? Who are you?

I sit down during the summer of my life and the fall of the year to ask, “Who am I?”

We all need to consider the big questions from time to time.  The who, the why, the how.  We need to know who we are, what the world is, who others are.  We need to know about the big guy upstairs and little guys surrounding us.  Essentially, who we are, who I am, is somewhat dependent on those answers.

I am made of elements, atoms, cells, those science things.  I will die and someday return those elements to the earth as I decompose.  The earth will swallow me whole, and a part of me may appear in a rose, a dandelion, be eaten by a raven, a cow, and maybe pop up in a happy meal.  That’s kinda weird, but kinda true.  One way or another, we will return to the earth.  We are part of something bigger.

But who am I?  What makes me unique beyond those points?

I fear at 35 that I sometimes forget the face of my younger selves.  Who was I when I was 4?  7?  17?  21?  Who I am is who I was . . . time is a lazy river that never ends, and I am the part of that lazy river from when I was born up until now.

I try to remember what the child Joe felt.  I want to look him in the eyes and ask him questions about the world.  I wonder how he’d answer.  I want to know what the puberty Joe felt.  I want to remember his hormones, his humors, his fears. 

Sometimes I feel that I am on top of the world; sometimes I feel that the world is on top of me.  Sometimes I yell with enthusiasm; sometimes I can barely breathe at all.  But I don’t think this is unusual.  It just . . . is.  There are days where I can accomplish anything.  There are days where the actions of the world sadden me to a point where I don’t want to get out of bed.  Thank God for coffee.

I am inspired and passionate. 

I am my family.  I have the fire of my grandmother, the fire that caused her to hit my four year old head with a telephone receiver because I first did that to her.  I have the laziness of a hard-working grandfather (RIP) .  He worked his bones dry and desired nothing but comfort and relaxation in the winter of his life.  I am my father (RIP)—his jumbled brain and maniac thoughts.  I am my mother—empathetic and sensitive but coated with a turtle shell that grows harder to defend against life’s blows.  I always want to feel, always want that passion, and the few times I’ve lost it, the few times it began to slip away, I grew cold and frightened.  My passion and fire are everything.

I am the kindergartner who threw racecars into other kids’ building blocks to destroy their castles. 

I am the 7^th grader who almost failed science because I fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world, and she had to sit right next to me.

I am the 8^th grader whose best friend did the worst thing a friend could do another.

I am the 9^th grader who pretended to be sick so that I could stay up late and finish a horror novel.

I am the 10^th grader who encountered great evil and was surrounded by a gang of kids violently swinging baseball bats.  I am he who said I would learn how to not be afraid.

I am the 11^th grader who had his self-esteem smashed by two teachers, teachers he respected, teachers who hated the youth they had lost.  I am he who vowed never to let young people encounter the wrath of such demons, at least not in my classroom.

I am the 12^th grader who rarely showed up for school because I lost enthusiasm for learning.

I am the college student who vowed his life would mean something.  I am he who decided to devote my energy to others, who found passion, meaning and inspiration all around him: some wonderful professors, amazing friends, and incredible experiences.

I have known true love.  I have experienced the loss of people close to me.  I have had a gun pointed at me head and thought I would surely die. 

Now, thirty-five years later I am just getting used to being called “Professor.” It feels good.  No, it feels great.  But we all wear many masks; we all have many faces.  These are but a few.

I am a little of all that surrounds me.  I am you, and you are me too. 

                                                                                      

World Championships & Life Lessons

When we take to social media or the blogosphere, it’s easy to want to brag about one’s successes. I’m guilty of that, but I hope such stories are also covered in humility.

Virtually all of our success, I would argue, is a combination of the positive influence of others and our own determination. But with that said, I thought I’d share a story of when I reached for the stars…. and fell on my face. I want to share examples like that though in the framework of something positive.

When I pursue a new goal, I think of two sayings.

Always happy; never satisfied & It’s ok to be disappointed; it’s not ok to be discouraged.

I just sent out two more queries this afternoon on the novel I wrote this summer. As I pursue that larger writing goal, I think of those two quotes.

In a previous blog, I wrote about how to reach success after setbacks. I’m trying to look at my ambitions from a variety of perspectives, trying to find some extra motivation to reach new goals. And I find it helpful to look at those setbacks more closely.

One of my biggest goals from the last decade was to compete and place in the US Open World Martial Arts Championships. After some success in local tournaments, my eyes got bigger. I was happy, you see, but not satisfied. That seems to be a pattern for me, much more so when I was younger. But I think having constant new challenges is healthy for the mind, body, and spirit. I do want to be happy—and I am—but I also don’t want to be too content or too satisfied that I never stop learning and challenging myself.

So back in the mid 2000s, I made a goal to place in the US Open World Martial Arts Championships. I competed in the adult black belt forms division in the summer of 2005. Talk about stage fright! ESPN was there recording on the main stage where black belts competed (no, I never saw myself on TV), and as I announced my form introduction, I thought I would surely throw up on the judges. Here are a couple of pictures of my actual forms competition at the world championships.

That was a great summer for training. I worked out every day, completing the formal 90 day P90X program for the first time that would later inspire me to want to become a P90X certified instructor. I also practiced my kata (form)  a dozen times a day at least.

There were over 100 competitors on that main stage, and only the top ten received formal awards. When all was said and done, I was not one of the top ten. I do not know where I ranked to this day, although I sure like to think it was somewhere in the teens! Not knowing my rank and not placing in the top ten disappoints me still. For all of you who work so hard to accomplish something: Have you ever felt that disappointment? I must have trained and worked out 3 hours a day that summer. And when I first looked back at all that hard work, it felt like it was for nothing. But that’s stupid, and if we think all the work we’ve put into something—even if we didn’t earn a reward—is worthless, we are missing the big point.

It’s ok to be disappointed. It’s not ok to be discouraged. All the hard work we put into our life’s ambitions makes us stronger, and even if we fail (I hate that word) at one goal, we can apply that determinism and the life lessons we learned to new goals.  Competing in the world championships was a great life experience for me, and the lessons I learned would be passed on to my martial arts students, several of whom competed in the US Open World Martial Arts Championships a couple years later. Several of those students placed and have “world champion” on their resume. That is pretty sweet!

You see, as I work to publish a novel (or any number of goals), I remember my training to compete in the US Open. I practiced every day. Well, the daily writing I do on this blog is some my writing practice (plus revisions and other stories I don’t want to share publicly yet). And if like my US Open experience, what if my biggest writing goals never come to life? That’s ok. Because I am having fun on this journey, and learning new things about myself, about others who share their writing and blogs with me, and about others who leave comments and send me messages. That makes all of this practice worth it. And if nothing else, my writing skills will sharpen as I age, right? My ability to compete athletically may not increase as I age. So thankfully this goal only requires some time to sit and imagine!

Thank you for all of you who encourage me to write and are rooting for me to succeed. Tell me about  your goals and ambitions, and I am every bit as happy to cheer for you too. Remember: It’s the influence of others plus our own determination that are the two main ingredients for success.

The Story of Hachiko

I love a spontaneous adventure, especially one that remains in memory for over a decade. I thought I’d share the great story of Hachiko the dog, an adventure my friend Rachel and I experienced back in the summer of 2000.

We were both studying abroad in Tokyo, Japan, and at school we heard this great story of a loyal dog and his love for his owner.

According to the story, Hachi was one of the most loyal dogs ever known. His owner took the subway to work, and each day, Hachiko would await for his owner’s return at the subway station. But one day, his owner passed away, and the dog waited and waited. This trailer can sum up the story best, although keep in mind this simply an Americanized version of the Japanese story.

(Note: When I heard this movie was on DVD, I bought it and purchased one night shipping from Amazon. The movie is ok.  Really, you only need to watch the trailer.)

When we heard this story, we were told a statue had been created in memory of Japan’s most loyal dog. Of course, Rachel and I wanted to find the statue. We left on an adventure, before the convenience of GPS and cell-phones, and had only a handy guide book and our imaginations to find the statue.

We got lost. Big time. We had left the subway station and wondered around in an unknown part of Tokyo. We had seriously gotten to the point where we thought we wouldn’t find our way back or even find anyone who could speak English and help us return.

I can laugh today at the memory of my friend threatening to throw my guide book over a bridge, but in that moment almost fifteen years ago, there were fears and tears and it was far from humorous. We hunched down on the pavement, studying the guide book, trying to find our way back, when a Japanese man came to us and said, “Do you two need help?” It was the most beautiful English we had ever heard.

“We were trying to find the Hachiko statue,” I said.

“Oh, you’re pretty far from that. It’s right outside the subway, in a courtyard by the main entrance.”

How did we manage to walk what felt like miles into an unknown part of the city when the statue was right outside the subway doors? I have no idea.

We made it back, thanks to the guidance of this kind man, and we got to see the statue.

Doesn’t look like much does it? Yeah, it was easy to miss. My friend, I think, distrusted my navigational skills the rest of our trip, but I’ll say this: There’s something about getting lost in a foreign country that sticks with you for a lifetime.

Inspired by the original story of Hachi and our not so epic adventure, I decided my first dog as an adult would be named Hachiko. Here he is.

(Note: A second great little story is that Rachel and I were roommates for a bit. She had taken a job teaching in France, and while she was gone, I couldn’t wait to get my puppy. Originally, I was going to wait until she returned. But no, I have always been impulsive. One day she called from France and heard me say, “Quiet, Hachiko!” Can you imagine her shock?)

Like the original Hachiko, I can’t imagine a more loyal pup. He cries when I leave the house, still to this day, ten years old now. I hear him cry through the windows as I get in my car to drive to work. He even knows when I’m leaving. Sadness consumes his eyes, and he physically shakes. He’ll try to sneak out with me too, and a couple of times, he’s even managed to run out and jump in my car as I’m trying to leave.

I can’t deny that sometimes it can be annoying, especially when I’m in a hurry. But when I can detach from that human craziness, it’s a beautiful thing to see a creature so loyal. It’s the most pure form of love and attachment. As the famous quote says, “A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.”

The Most Influential College Courses

A friend recently asked me how many college courses I have taken in my life.  The question made me think and dig out all my old transcripts just out of curiosity.  After browsing through decades of learning, I thought I’d write about my five of my favorite college courses, and I would like to ask you do the same.  Post them in your comments, or blog it and send me the link. 

I’m simply curious what people think have been their most influential courses.  There is nothing more important to me than education; learning has the power to change the world.

Intercultural communication

Not only does a good intercultural comm class teach you about world cultures (how do Americans communicate compared to the rest of the world, for example) but a good class will also teach you about co-cultures.  Co-cultures are the sub cultural categories among a bigger common culture.  For example, co-cultures include race, religion, gender, political orientation, educational level, socioeconomic status and more.  This course demonstrated the idea of being able to detach from my co-cultures in order to understand others better. It presents the big question: is there any really one right in the world? Is there one belief or way of doing things that is the only right way (like in religion and politics, but let’s not go there)? It also illustrated differences in communication styles and that no one way of communicating is superior.  For example, we know men and women communicate differently, but if we demand others communicate in the same way we do, then we’re being arrogant and ignorant about our differences.  I fell in love with this course years ago, and am thrilled to say that I now teach it at the college level.

Shakespeare

It may be a typical class a former English teacher would support, but I don’t think any human being should go without a full, intense study of as many of the bard’s plays as possible.  More so than any other, Shakespeare fully understood human nature, love, authority, gender roles, and relationships, and he loves to explore the dynamics in each of these categories.  It’s one thing to read them on your own.  It’s better to read them with an experienced professor and a class full of curious minded students.  This class resulted in some of the best discussions on being human that I’ve ever had.

Religion in the Modern World

Regardless of your religious belief or lack thereof, I would argue all people should explore religion from an academic viewpoint.  This course explored the belief systems in contemporary America and many academic theories that analyzed not just the specific belief systems but the overall need for belief.  It also analyzed the contemporary world of science and the role science plays in affecting religious belief.  The academic theories opened my mind to a new world of possibilities and explanations.  Today, too many people only believe in what they have learned at home or in a specific church or domination.  If we could understand why we believe the way we do (and why others believe differently), we’d live in a much more peaceful world.

Critical Thinking and Reasoning

This was an entire course devoted to teaching people methods of thinking!  In my classes, we naturally discuss reliability and validity. How many people have you known to share a meme or a news story on Facebook or Twitter without even checking to see if it were true? I’d argue that an entire semester devoted to critical reasoning would be a good addition to college education.  This course not only taught how to argue, but how to analyze arguments through logical appeals, emotional appeals, fallacies, and much more.  Even better, the skills learned in this specific course were applied to the top selling political texts of the time, newspaper editorials, and more.  It sure opened several eyes to the illogic that supersedes logic in today’s mass media and general thinking. 

Controversial Legal Issues

This course is well-suited for the critical thinker concerned about law and policy in contemporary society.  This was one out of two actual law courses I took from a law professor in my first master’s program, and the course set up a variety of interesting issues to be debated.  The primary challenge was to separate oneself from political and religious points of view and examine each issue through the historical precedent of law.  More so than the specific cases, it was the forced detachment from my own personal beliefs that was the most challenging and rewarding aspect of the class.

Even when I look at these five courses, I get a better understanding of myself.  My top five reflect my interest about culture, my desire to be practical and fair to different cultures, my passion for discussing the multiple aspects of human nature, my need to understand various religions and belief systems, my goal to promote and learn stronger critical thinking skills, and more. If you have a chance and see these courses or similar ones listed at your college, SIGN UP!   

So now it’s your turn, and I hope some of you do participate.  What are your most influential courses?  Why?  Post it in the comments, or blog it and share it with me.

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Five Ways to Stay Motivated Teaching

It’s a good month into the fall semester of my fourteenth year as a full time educator, and I want to reflect not on motivating students, but rather on keeping myself motivated. If you’re a teacher, you know the fears we all share: Will we get burned out on the content, the lessons, the students, the reforms, etc? I’ve always appreciated the Oscar Wilde quote: “Each man kills the things he loves.” For me, I’ve worried that if we do too much of a good thing that we lose our joy for it, that it does in fact become work. Let’s not let that happen.

This school year I intentionally created a game plan to stay motivated and energetic, perhaps more so than ever before. Here’s my plan, and I share it with the hope that it may help rejuvenate others too.

Add, change, and/or cut one lesson for each course every year.

I’m grateful to have had some help on this one. My college’s library introduced a program called “One Book, One College,” with the goal to have our entire campus community read the same book and participate in college wide activities. The book this year is Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One, and I decided to incorporate it in every communication class I teach. It’s been an incredibly refreshing and rewarding experience. Here are a couple of comments some students made about the book:

At least 3 people in different classes said something like: “I’ll be honest. I didn’t start this until last night, but I can’t believe that I got hooked. I read all of part one in one night.”

  

“I’m not much of a reader. I’ve never really gotten into books, but thank you for assigning this. I can’t believe how good it is. I’m staying up late and losing sleep just so I can read one more chapter.”

In any classroom, there is absolutely nothing wrong with asking students to read more, and the discussions we’ve had in class have provided a refreshing mental and emotional stimulus to our content. It makes me want to add a different book each semester to my classes—to always encourage students to read more and to always have some variety in our classroom!

Attend your students’ sporting events

I made a goal this year to attend one game from each sport in which a student of mine was participating. After attending the first game, I was sure to find the student after and give him or her a compliment. What was even more amazing: they opened up more in class, shared more about their passions, and seemed more focused on our classroom discussions. I had taken an interest in them outside the classroom, and in doing so, they took a greater interest in my classroom.

It also was nice to see other students attending the sporting events, and I said hello to each one I saw in the crowd. They smiled back, and they had this look on their face: “My professor is at a game!?” It’s clearly not something they were used to seeing, and I think it made a difference in letting them know I do care about them.

Promote your students’ interests in class

I decided I would have students do an introduction speech at the beginning of the class where they, in part, share all of their college interests and activities. Similar to the sporting events, I wanted to know my students passions. Now I try to announce any upcoming events related to such student interests, such as a play or musical coming up if I have a student in it, an art show, a radio program, honors society inductions, and so on. It makes students feel more connected to you and your classroom, and quite simply they seem to really appreciate the promotional plug.

The world is bigger than our classrooms. The more I see the big picture and discuss that, the more motivated I am to not teach just teach class content but to teach students.

Leave the classroom

You have that one lesson you’ve taught one thousand times, right? You struggle to remain enthusiastic, right? On an impulse during one such lesson of my own, I decided we needed to leave the classroom. I had students pack up their books and we went and sat outside on a beautiful fall morning. I didn’t have a board to write on, but I asked students to listen closely and write down notes. Then we discussed the ideas, and I think it’s the strongest discussion I’ve ever had on one of the least interesting parts of my class.

Walk around campus and make notes of possible alternative “classrooms.” I’ve found relaxing and peaceful areas outside and inside, and sometimes I also look for the loud and boisterous areas too. We don’t always have to be the teacher at the white board. We can be the teacher anywhere, and a change of scenery is good for students too.

Begin and end class with humor

This should be true of any lesson, and I try to be a “performer” for my students and find ways to incorporate humor in each lesson. Learning should be fun, after all. However, sometimes we need something even bigger. I know we all fight for each precious minute of our classroom time, but I’ve always been a quality over quantity kind of guy. If I can get my students fully engaged and focused, I can do the same lesson in 40 minutes instead of 50.

So sometimes I see a class that looks tired or bored or just unfocused. Sometimes I’m a little tired too. What do I do? I rely on the hundreds of silly YouTube videos I’ve collected over the years.

“Ok, class. We look a little sleepy today. So I’m going to show you a short video that I hope will make you laugh. I want us energetic in class today.” The first video I showed this year was the “Mutant Spider Dog” prank.

We all laughed, and I said, “All right. If we have an energetic class and finish the lesson in time, I may have to show you another hilarious video at the end of class just for fun. Ready? Let’s begin.”

Like extra reading, there’s nothing wrong with extra humor, especially in the classroom, where sometimes we need it the most.

What are your tips to stay motivated and energetic in the classroom? 

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A Snapshot: Heroes and Villains Part One

I played basketball in junior high, that tumultuous bridge between childhood and adulthood. We had a two hour practice scheduled late on Halloween evening. I was twelve years old and not ready to give up my childhood joys for a single basketball practice that, quite frankly, would have little impact on my life. I skipped practice, and my friends and I stormed the neighborhoods, trying to get that one last bag of candy from our childhood. We dressed up, went to our favorite decorated homes, organized the candy when we got home, watched It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and stayed up way too late for a school night. I still remember the laughter and the sugar highs. The next day I went to basketball practice, and the coach said, “Hey, pussy. Yeah, I’m talking to you pussy. Pussy boy is too good to join us for practice because he needs his pussy candy. Suicide runs for everyone.” I’ll never forget how much fun I had that Halloween night and how much I despised that 7^th grade coach who thought his job was much more important than our childhood. I’ll never forget those poisonous words that no adult should ever say to a child.

My freshman year in high school I wrote a poem about my mother for an English class assignment. The teacher gave me an A+ and a great big smiley face. I don’t think I had ever written something creatively that earned an A+. I’ll never forget her for that. This was a regular level English class, and when it was time to register for sophomore year, I asked her if she would sign me into the honors English class. I wanted to try it. She smiled and said, “If you think you can do it, you can. It all starts right here,” she pointed at her head. “Good luck, Joe and don’t stop writing.” With the simple confidence I earned from an A+, I decided I was good enough to be with the best of the best. My love for English—literature and writing—started with that A+ and would later influence my decision to want to teach the same subject. The most brilliant teachers recognize passion, and even if we’re not all that talented, sometimes an A+ and a smiley face go a long way into making someone feel like they can conquer the world.

During my senior year in high school, I was stuck with the most demonic teacher I have experienced. He didn’t like teenagers, and he reminded us of that all the time. “My wife makes the money in our house. I don’t get paid enough to work with any of you, so don’t expect any favors.” He was sour, each and every day. I remember one assignment where we had to create an artistic model of the human knee. Never much of the artist, I stayed up late at night for over a week trying to create a model of the human knee. When I handed the project in to him, he laughed at me. “Did you put this piece of shit together this morning, Joe? Way to take the assignment seriously. What a waste of my time.” I bit my lip through the rest of his class, and then faked a stomach ache and went home. I faked a lot of stomach aches that year. I hated his class, hated the way he treated us, and dreaded each morning. I missed exactly 30 days that school year. THIRTY. My mom—bless her soul—understood. I was smart and earned high grades in every class but his. But I owe him one incredible compliment: It was during that year that I—the kid who skipped school a day a week—decided I was going to be a teacher. I wanted to make sure to keep people like him out of the classroom, and I was now determined to shape my passion into creating a classroom atmosphere where students would not only learn but enjoy themselves in the process, and if nothing else, at least know that someone was rooting for them.

In college, I met a dozen inspirational professors, and I have a dozen stories about each professor. Each of them—the professors and the individual stories—deserve their own post. I’ll get to all of them in time.  I worked with one of my favorite professors for two years. She taught me new ways to write, new ways to read deeply. She observed my student-teaching and wrote a letter that would earn me my first teaching award, our college’s Golden Apple for best student-teacher. She attended my graduation party and gave me a gift, a glass ornament that says “Endless Possibilities,” which hung in my high school classroom for ten years and now is a permanent part of my college office. These are details and not stories, but it’s a place for me to start reflecting, and the stories will be told.

Here’s the thing: Heroes build us up; villains tear us down. This is a post I will have to return to occasionally (hence the title of part I). There are too many stories for one post. There are heroes and villains from my childhood, my classmates, my peers, my coaches, my martial arts world, my teaching world, and my fitness world. They say you can’t have good without evil, and I believe that to be so very true. There are those who don’t understand you, and those who will be jealous of you. They will say things that aren’t true, and they will try to distort your image to others because on some illogical level they must think it makes them stronger. But the strongest people I know, the heroes in our everyday lives, support you and build you up. They see your talents, they encourage them, and they want you to succeed. The best teachers, I would argue, are those who want you to be more successful than they ever were. The same is true of our friends. When we cheer for one another, we all get better. 

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Success after Setbacks: On Overcoming Challenges and Pursuing Your Dreams

There is a ton of advice on accomplishing one’s dreams, and for good reasons: dreams and the pursuit of those dreams energize us and drive our human spirit forward. But nothing can be as disheartening as a setback. Notice, I won’t call it a failure. The only time you fail is if you quit, and setbacks can make us stronger.

If you’re a writer who has received a rejection letter, a dreamer who hasn’t (yet) landed that dream job, or any number of examples, you know what I mean. I’d like to share my strategies for overcoming setbacks.

Take a break

Most writers will agree that after you’ve written something, you need to step away from it for a few weeks to a few months. It’s easy to get excited about an idea or a finished piece of work, and we want to send it to the masses immediately. That’s ok, but if you receive the rejection letters, remember to take a break. There’s no need to immediately dive in and revise. Step away for a bit, and when you do return to your work, you’ll have fresh perspectives and make it even better than you thought it was originally.

The same can be said of many things. If you didn’t get the job of your dreams, many may tell you to work harder and keep at it. You should of course, but why not take a mental break from applications, interviews, and just from thinking about the damn thing. Give yourself a deadline; you don’t want to give up on your dreams. But if you’ve had several setbacks, perhaps it’s time for a two week vacation. Like in writing, you’ll come back and see new perspectives with a rejuvenated energy that may be exactly what you need to accomplish your goals.

Invest in a new creative project

I write a lot. You may act a lot, or draw a lot, or simply work a lot. We want to be successful in each of our goals, but sometimes to keep the creative juices freshly flowing, it helps to tackle a different kind of project. You’ll learn to use different creative aspects and you’ll find strategies that may help you with your biggest desires.

For example, if you’re an actor, why not try to direct a small show? If you’re a writer, why not try to draw (as bad as it could be) visual concepts for your work? Or if you are terrible at drawing (as I am), collaborate with an artist and help him or her discover the full concept of your vision. Don’t you think your vision will also be sharpened?

You could even learn something entirely new. Drop what you are doing, take that break (like my first idea), and learn something new: take a class on a musical instrument or take one semester of a foreign language at  your local college. It’s not a bad idea to browse your college’s catalog and find something different. Maybe a tai chi class will do the trick. We all need to move out of our comfort zones and explore diverse creative interests to strengthen the creativity we need for our current goals and projects.

Walk daily

Sound too easy? It is easy, but the payoffs are incredible. This is something I discovered this summer. I’m already an exercise fanatic. I hit the gym hard 4-5 times a week. But that’s my problem: I hit it hard and lose myself in the workouts. That’s great, and I think we all need that level of intensity too. But I wanted to add something simple that would let me think and get me out of the house, away from distractions and technology, and let my mind wonder. And while I certainly don’t mind a walk or hike with friends, I think you need to have some time alone too. It’s being alone, outdoors, and away from everything that opens the mind to new ideas.

So 5-6 days a week, I take a walk outside for 30-60 minutes, depending on the time I have available. I have two dogs, so they are benefiting from this idea too, but here’s the thing: I don’t look at my phone or computer during that time. I breathe fresh air. I walk in different directions. I try to find paths that inspire me. Sometimes I drive my car to a place I want to walk for different scenery. I think about my work, my writing, my relationships, and more. And almost every evening, I come home and immediately write down a few ideas that popped in my head. These ideas, I have no doubt, would not have developed if I had not taken time to just get the hell out of the house and walk and think and clear my mind from all other distractions. Try it for one week, and I promise it will be something you’ll want to do all the time.

Collaborate

Writing in particular is a lonely job, but when you are going for your dream job, you’re also on your own in that job interview. When you want something, talk to others who have accomplished the goals you are pursuing. It’s only common sense, but sometimes we are shy and don’t want to put ourselves out there.

When I applied for my college teaching position, I contacted the professors at the department in which I was applying. I asked if I could meet with them individually for a 30 minute chat and pick their brains about their work. I wanted to know about their daily routines, what they loved, their frustrations, and the work they did prior to landing my dream job. Those conversations helped, and I did get the job of my dreams. Each person had different perspectives, and I took time to think about all of their experiences and what I could bring to the table too.

I also practiced my interview. I asked friends and colleagues if they would give me a mock interview and provide genuine feedback to my answers. I took nothing for granted, and I wanted to be the absolute best. I’m convinced it’s those steps that landed me my dream job. And now I have to repeat those steps with each new goal, like connecting with other writers, learning about publication, and finding a circle of readers I trust to give me raw feedback on the work I want to succeed.

Create your success story

Finally, I do think we all need confidence from our previous accomplishments. This step is like building a resume, but I think of it as more personal than that. It’s your life narrative, the accomplishments you’ve made, the steps you took to get there, and the methods in which you overcame previous setbacks.

Here are a few of mine, very early in my teaching career. Each one had setbacks.

When applying for my first teaching job, it was obvious the superintendent at the high school where I had applied wanted a coach. I’m not a coach. I don’t have much of an organized sports record. But I won him over by demonstrating my love of that particular school. You have to show that you really love the place where you want to be. I did several things to make this happen, and after my interview, he told a colleague, “Joe’s passion for our school and community is unmatched.”

In my second year of teaching, I convinced a world-wide best-selling author, who normally charges $30,000 to visit schools and speak, to attend my classes for free. That was awesome. You have to understand that of course he said no at first. I was not willing to accept that. It took an incredible amount of persistence, but I  talked best-selling author Mitch Albom into visiting with all of my classes and speaking at my high school.

I took a small after-school martial arts program and built it up to national recognition: We won Black Belt Magazine’s Best Children’s Program in the United States award in 2008. The key to that success was commitment and collaboration. There were semesters in which I had only a few students. I didn't let that stop my enthusiasm. By the end of my leadership of that program, we have over one hundred students involved.

Those were accomplishments all very early in my career, and there are others more meaningful to me from recent years. I tell all of these stories when pursuing a new goal. I tell them to myself first, as a reminder of what can be done. And you don’t have to win any national awards to build your story. Start with the projects, the jobs, and the people you’ve worked with: How did you better the world around you? And how will the accomplishment of your current goal better the world too? That’s the story you learn, and that’s the story you tell to those who will listen.

You’ll conquer all of your dreams, and I will too. It takes a high level of confidence with the highest level of humility. Believe in yourself, and work your ass off.  No great reward is earned without great work.

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Strippers and Summer

Like you, I have so many incredible childhood stories and adventures. I enjoy remembering them and reflecting on that time in my life. The following is a true story, but I made some changes to my friends' names. This is one of many such adventures, and I certainly hope to share more.

I grew up in a well-kept, middle class neighborhood, but I lived in a house surrounded by a strange combination of lifestyles.  Next door to me was a boy’s dream: a house rented by three women who worked as adult entertainers for local strip club.  I kid you not.  They moved in as I moved through puberty, and my friends and I hoped each and every day that we’d catch them in a spontaneous performance in their living room.

                Across the street from the ladies’ house and my house was an Apostolic Christian church, neighbored by Apostolic Christians who took care of the church and its property.  If that wasn’t the epitome of lifestyle juxtaposition, one only had to look to the neighbors on the other side of my house for more culture.  There lived my two best friends as a child, Ronnie and Danny, who were raised by their gay dad and his partner.  Strippers, Apostolic Christians, and gay parents: I could not imagine having more culture as a child.

                “Chris!” Danny yelled as I walked over to his house.  “Did you hear the bad news?”

                “Yeah,” I answered, frowning.

                “I can’t believe they’re leaving.  This sucks!”

                “We have one week left.  We need a plan.”

                “I already have supplies!” Ronnie said as he pulled three dynamite long smoke bombs from his pocket.  “Tonight, we use these babies!”

                It was the first day of summer, and to our profound disappointment, word on the street was that our stripper neighbors were moving.  We had looked forward to the summer all year long.  Hot days and hot nights would mean even fewer clothes for our salacious neighbors.  We had been trying to catch glimpses of them by peeping into the windows late at night.  During one Saturday night party, we heard music and laughter.  We went to the windows and the girls were dancing, but we ran away laughing when a man in the party dropped his pants and blocked our view from the window with his ass. 

                Danny’s brother, Ronnie, came outside to meet us.  “Danny and I have a battle plan,” he said.  “We wait until night and we light these smoke bombs under the windows at their house.  Then we’ll hide by the bushes in your yard and wait for them to run outside naked!” Ronnie giggled as he said the word in his best villain voice. 

                “What makes you think they’ll be naked?” I asked.

                “We’ll wait till it’s late,” Ronnie said.

                I nodded and smiled in agreement, as if it was the most logical thing possible. 

                We passed the time playing basketball in my driveway.  Danny, as usual, won our little street game.  He was the athletic one, two years younger than me and Ronnie, but muscular and toned.  His blonde hair moved with the wind, and his blue eyes focused intensely on the ball.  At 11 years old, Danny may have been the youngest of the three of us, but we admired his athleticism.  Ronnie, on the other hand, was the scrawny, non-athletic brother.  A year older than Dan, Ronnie had dark black hair, dark as a raven, and a pale complexion.  He was the worst of us at any sport, but he had a contagious laugh and honest humility that made us fall in love with him.  I was the oldest of the three, a proud 13 year old and it was my first summer as a teenager. The brothers looked at me with awe as the wiser, more experienced member of our trio.

                Finally the sun set and we met together in my backyard to finalize our plans.

                “You take this to the kitchen window,” Ronnie said as he handed me the smoke bomb.  “I’ll put one by the front window, and Dan you put one by the window on the other side of the house.  Once we start walking over there, we each count to ten-Mississippi.  On ten, we light and run like hell to these bushes.  I even brought a camera!”

                “Awesome!” My heart was racing and my arms were shaking.  We stood up slowly and made our way to the edge of my yard.  Ronnie looked at us intently and carefully.  “Ready?” He paused and took a deep breath and then said, “go!”

                We ran, smiling, scared, and excited all at once.  I found the kitchen window and placed the smoke bomb below it.  I wasn’t sure if I was counting right.  As I reached four-Mississippi, I thought I was going too fast.  Then I thought I was counting too slow, but at ten-Mississippi, I lit the smoke bomb and ran to the bushes.

                Within seconds we were huddled by the tall, wide bushes that lined my front yard.  We grabbed onto each others’ arms and shoulders, trying not to laugh, but full of the excitement of youth and adventure.  The smoke bombs were overwhelming.  These weren’t the cheap kind that lasted a few seconds.  These dynamite long sticks poured out a fountain of thick smoke that lasted at least a minute if not two.  To our surprise, all three women ran out of the house screaming and waving their arms.

                “Is there a fire?” one asked.

                “What the hell is going?” asked another.

                Unfortunately, they were fully clothed, but their reactions forced out our laughter and we could hold back no longer.  We laughed as loud as we had ever laughed before.

                “It’s those fuckin’ boys,” one of the girls yelled pointing at the laughing bushes.

                “Oh shit,” Ronnie laughed.  “Let’s go!”

                We ran in the opposite direction, past my friends’ house, down to the end of the street.  We ran down to another block and then hid in an alley between the two.  We were still laughing as we panted from the sprint.  Our arms interlocked in a little circle as we leaned on each other while we caught our breath.

                “That was awesome!” Danny cheered.  “Let’s do it again!”

                And so began our first day of summer.

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A Pop Culture Tour: from childhood to today

The more I write about childhood, the more I realize I’m still a child at heart. Ironically, it took a long time to get there. When so much of one’s life is spent in various college degree programs and in the necessities of living (mortgages, car payments, yuck), we can forget the simple joys of life.

I’m a pop culture and nostalgia junkie. I thought I’d share with my Blog readers (thank you, you loyal few!) some of my interests. Let’s do it with pictures! It wasn’t until this spring and summer that I really redesigned a few parts of my home to showcase my inner childhood. It took me until age 35.

My favorite horror films and fun figures

My favorite horror films and collectibles of the horror villains get two special shelves near my fire place. I organized this little collection as I began writing a new novel this summer, the one I'm trying to get published, which I would consider to be my love letter to horror stories. Pennywise from It, Michael Myers from Halloween, Jason, Freddy, and the like: How can you not love all of these? 

Game of Thrones

 Perhaps my all time favorite television series and one of my favorite book series: of course Game of Thrones earns several spots in my home. On the left, two more shelves by my fire place showcase the books, movies, and collectibles.

And there's this gem, a hand made work of art personally created by one of my best friends.

Movie/Game Tower of Nostalgia

I have a large, spinning movie tower and I decided to devote some of the shelves to my favorites.

One top shelf hosts my Rocky Blu-Ray collection, along with some pretty sweet Funko figures of the Rocky characters. 

Below Rocky, Gizmo sits proudly displaying the Gremlins (and the Goonies, not everything fits perfectly). Gizmo even dances and makes his signature sounds. Am I a geek or what?

Below Gizmo, Slimer found a home by Ghostbusters and several other Blu-Rays.

And of course I have Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, guarded carefully by Shredder and Leonardo.

And I can't forget the video games! Mario Kart and Mario Party earn top shelf in the game selection!

Below Mario, I had to give a little tribute to Pac-Man!

The other shelves are just rows and rows of movies and games, but over time, I hope to create lots of little displays like this on my tower of fun :)

The Man Cave of Nostalgia 

And then I have an entire room devoted to pop culture favorites. As you walk up to the man cave, you are greeted by characters from Star Wars, Daenerys from Game of Thrones, Iron Man, and Spider-Man. 

When I was a kid, I had some strange idea that unique soda cans and bottles would be very valuable some day. I've put a few on display here. Below that, I have a Michael Jordan autographed hat, an Everclear t-shirt signed by all the members in the band, and a Nolan Ryan autographed baseball (he was my favorite player when I was young).

Then I had to find a home for my oldest wrestling figures. Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant, Jesse the Body Ventura, Hillbilly Jim, the Junkyard Dog, and more proudly stand, with all the beatings and bruises they took from my childhood.

If you're up for a game of chess, Monopoly, or Yahtzee, we'll play over here, where more Mario nostalgia awaits.

And of course there's an original Nintendo Entertainment System along with a few of my favorite NES games: The Goonies, Mario Brothers, Friday the 13th, and the Karate Kid. 

There's a lot more to this room and to my inner nerd who loves to hold on to and now proudly display current favorite entertainment and those favorites from days past. 

They all inspire me in different ways, and they help me reflect on a time of innocence and the joys of childhood, which will all be part of future stories I write. I hope you've enjoyed my little tour, and if nothing else, you certainly know the kind of gifts you can get me if you ever feel so inclined. I do love presents.

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