Tears and the Modern Man

"My eyes are leaking!" my young boy once said as he lay in bed crying.

My wife and I emotionally witnessed this tragic but comical expression one day, but suddenly I found myself turning away from my wife to hide the little welling of something that was suddenly coming from my eyes.

As I attempted to stare out the window and regain my composure, I thought of the emotions involved with a young child like that, reminding me of my own childhood and its bittersweet memories . . . bittersweet memories?

This of course, begs the question:

What the @#$# is happening to me?

Of course, you expect a budding young toddler to cry and cry often, but something has been happening to me lately that has been more insidious than a Bush press release, more worrying than gas prices, and more embarrassing than noticing your fly has been open for God knows how long and to make matters worse, you're not wearing underwear.

I'm of course, talking about a grown man tearing up at the most interesting moments. Before having a kid and getting married I was a tough manly individual. But now I'm Dick Vermeil with an onion neckless. Where is this coming from? As a good history major, I know that before looking at the present, we must look at the past.

• The end of ET? No problem.

• The Shuttle Disaster I: Solid as a rock.

• Lions losing the NFC championship? No big deal!

• U.S. Hockey Victory over the USSR: Just good, solid, excitement.

• Being turned down for the senior prom. I'll get over it. Really, I will.
  

But now, any little thing starts to set me off and I have no way to stop it.

• Olympic hockey repeat of beating the Russians:
  
• "Do you believe in tearing up? Yes!"

• The endings of Field of Dreams, Forest Gump, Saving Private Ryan (beginning and end), Billy Elliot, Glory, any movie with a boy and a dog who dies, etc.:
  
• My eyes? Literally, a river runs though it.

• Certain Mark Knopfler guitar solos under certain conditions.
  
• H-eye humidity.

• 9/11 Homages:
  
• Just give me the @$#ing box of tissue now.

I don't get it. Was it 9/11, the birth of my kid, a decrease in eye muscle control brought on my old age (that's the one I'm sticking to), or just wussiness brought on by watching too many modern men like Alan Alda and Johnny Depp?

Was it Clint Eastwood sobbing during Million Dollar Baby? Was it a permanently lodged piece of fiberglass insulation in my eye? Or how about a plucked nose hair?

Yeah, that's the ticket.

There's no crying in male middle age!

Now, the next time my wife is out of town, I'm going to retrain myself. I'm going to watch Brian's Song, Fried Green Tomatoes, Rudy, Whale Rider, and any other tear jerker that I can find until I can retrain my male senses back to a normal Neanderthal, like their supposed to be. Maybe I should also go out and shoot a small animal and eat it.

But first, I see that Old Yeller is on television.

Oh, boy. I can do this.

Now where did I put the tissues?

Hot Talk and the Modern Man

The biggest fashion in teaching now is for curriculum makers and textbook writers (these people must be a fun lot, but that's for another post) to write a script that you, the teacher, are supposed to read from and not deviate in any way if you want to 'maximize teachability.' (Or some other made-up word your principal fell for after his three margarita lunch at a conference.) This prevents the teacher from actually getting involved in any discussions that may lead to controversy, such discussions on science, reading, or history.

However, these scripts assume your students will answer the questions like the writer of the script intended and also assume that they'll actually care about what you're supposed to be teaching them.

So for instance, if the script says to ask, "How does this make you feel?" and one kid blurts out "horny" when the book provided answer was supposed to be "Sad and lonely", it can really throw the class for a loop. A less talented teacher might decide it was time to do an easier, less stressful job, like say, being an air traffic controller.

This is from an actual script in an anti-bullying class I have to teach. (Remember, you're not allowed to bully in school, but you are expected and praised if you do as an an adult, as in here, here, or here.) The bold is what the teacher is supposed to say. Remember, not to deviate, or you could lose your job.

-What was Janelle's "hot talk". (Book Answer: I can't believe it! She stole my jacket!)

KID'S ANSWER: Isn't that something on those 900 number advertisements on television?

Of course yelling at the student could get you arrested, giving them detention will bring the wrath of the parents, and notifiying the principal means you don't have good classroom management, so being a good teacher, you press on. . .

TITLE: The Fire Within (Now as a teacher, you're not supposed to laugh at these things, even if it sounds like a made for Cinemax movie.)
Think of seeing the jacket as a match that lights a fire. The fire is fueled and burns hotter when Janelle "hot talks" to herself (KID: I thought you were supposed to talk hot to your girlfriend). You ignore and continue . . .As the fire burns, Janelle has bodily sensations . . . (class is now laughing uncontrollably and you, being the professional you are and against all odds, skip the rest of the lesson and head to the nearest bar. You can't even get to the part about her anger being misguided, since her friend had bought the same exact jacket.))

No, actually you finish the rest of the lesson bravely and professionally, only to find the term HOT TALK is being used comically in the hallway for the rest of the week.

Fires burning? Hot talk? Bodily Sensations? Just what our hyper-hormonal students need! Luckily, I'm a mature adult, and can't be affected by such talk. Now excuse me, I have to see if my phone allows 900 calls.

(DISCLAIMER: The script was real, the answers expected, real, the kids' answers were hypothetical and so was the principal (who is a mix of the many I've had), just in case mine is reading this as we speak.)