Tuesday, September 30, 2003
MEIN GOTT! (Roll over, John Dewey)
A SCARY MISSIVE ARRIVES:
Dear Parents and Guardians,
You are cordially invited to attend Back-to-School Night at the County Middle School. The evening is designed to offer a panoramic glimpse of your school’s program and opportunity to meet with the teachers who instruct your children. Your children have filled out a card with their daily schedule. You will follow their individual schedule - except that each of these Back-to-School Night classes will last only eight minutes….
“This is optional, right?” I said. “It’s not something we have to do, is it?"
I was wrong. It was something we had to do.
THE HALLOWED HALLS WERE, TRUTH BE TOLD, A LITTLE DINGY
I was dragging by 4th period. “What’s next?”
“German. Room 323.”
“Who’s the teacher?”
“I can’t make it out.” Looks like Ork.”
“Let me see. One? Onk? Oink?”
“Knock it off.”
FROM THE HALLS OF MONTEZUMA TO THE HALLS OF PS3
The teacher was a Post-Modern Pan-Asian looking guy.
“Guten Abend. Ich bin Herr Ohno. That is: Good evening. I am Mr. Ohno. Ha Ha Ha.”
“Oh no,” I said.
“How did someone like me end up teaching German? Ha Ha. Let me tell you. I took German in high school and I spent a year in Germany as an exchange student. Can you believe it? Has anyone ever been to Germany?”
A few desultory hands went up.
“A few of you at least. Good. Good. Then you know. Ha Ha Ha. I just loved Germany so much. I always kept in touch with my host family. I was just talking with my host Mom this past weekend. After all these years. I call her all the time. Can you believe it? Ha Ha.”
I did believe it. He had a certain needy quality that made it easy to believe that he would latch onto a surrogate mother and hound the poor woman for decades.
“Then I went to college. UC Davis. I majored in biology and German. I thought maybe I would be doctor. Haa. Can you believe it now? Ha Ha.”
I was thinking - UC Davis – isn’t that the place where you can get a degree in wine?
I was thinking - it must have been the parents who wanted him to be a doctor. Poor son of a gun had to carry two majors, one for his parents and one for himself.
“After college I joined the Marines. I spent eight years in the Marines. Can you believe it? Ha Ha. The Marines. Ha Ha.”
That one came out of nowhere. However, by this point of the evening, feeling a little shell-shocked myself, if Herr Oh No had announced that he was the reincarnation of Hathor the Egyptian cow goddess, come to drown the athletic fields in blood, I would have been inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I left the Marines just last September. Now I am teaching German, right here. This is my first year teaching; I don’t know what I’m doing yet. Don’t tell your children. Ha Ha.
No, that is a joke. Everything will be fine. Ha Ha Ha. Well, that’s all the time we have. Guten abend.”
THE LONG MARCH CONTINUES
“Look,” I said, “I’m not up to this. I think I’m gonna cut next class and go sneak a smoke in the boys room. Wait outside and watch for hall monitors.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Have you turned into one of those goody-goody types? Teacher’s pet?”
“You quit smoking years ago, for one thing.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot there for a minute. What’s next then?”
“Algebra. Room 711. And we’ve got to hurry. It’s all the way on the other side of the school and I think you get detention if you're late.”
“Who’s the teacher?”
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A SCARY MISSIVE ARRIVES:
Dear Parents and Guardians,
You are cordially invited to attend Back-to-School Night at the County Middle School. The evening is designed to offer a panoramic glimpse of your school’s program and opportunity to meet with the teachers who instruct your children. Your children have filled out a card with their daily schedule. You will follow their individual schedule - except that each of these Back-to-School Night classes will last only eight minutes….
“This is optional, right?” I said. “It’s not something we have to do, is it?"
I was wrong. It was something we had to do.
THE HALLOWED HALLS WERE, TRUTH BE TOLD, A LITTLE DINGY
I was dragging by 4th period. “What’s next?”
“German. Room 323.”
“Who’s the teacher?”
“I can’t make it out.” Looks like Ork.”
“Let me see. One? Onk? Oink?”
“Knock it off.”
FROM THE HALLS OF MONTEZUMA TO THE HALLS OF PS3
The teacher was a Post-Modern Pan-Asian looking guy.
“Guten Abend. Ich bin Herr Ohno. That is: Good evening. I am Mr. Ohno. Ha Ha Ha.”
“Oh no,” I said.
“How did someone like me end up teaching German? Ha Ha. Let me tell you. I took German in high school and I spent a year in Germany as an exchange student. Can you believe it? Has anyone ever been to Germany?”
A few desultory hands went up.
“A few of you at least. Good. Good. Then you know. Ha Ha Ha. I just loved Germany so much. I always kept in touch with my host family. I was just talking with my host Mom this past weekend. After all these years. I call her all the time. Can you believe it? Ha Ha.”
I did believe it. He had a certain needy quality that made it easy to believe that he would latch onto a surrogate mother and hound the poor woman for decades.
“Then I went to college. UC Davis. I majored in biology and German. I thought maybe I would be doctor. Haa. Can you believe it now? Ha Ha.”
I was thinking - UC Davis – isn’t that the place where you can get a degree in wine?
I was thinking - it must have been the parents who wanted him to be a doctor. Poor son of a gun had to carry two majors, one for his parents and one for himself.
“After college I joined the Marines. I spent eight years in the Marines. Can you believe it? Ha Ha. The Marines. Ha Ha.”
That one came out of nowhere. However, by this point of the evening, feeling a little shell-shocked myself, if Herr Oh No had announced that he was the reincarnation of Hathor the Egyptian cow goddess, come to drown the athletic fields in blood, I would have been inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I left the Marines just last September. Now I am teaching German, right here. This is my first year teaching; I don’t know what I’m doing yet. Don’t tell your children. Ha Ha.
No, that is a joke. Everything will be fine. Ha Ha Ha. Well, that’s all the time we have. Guten abend.”
THE LONG MARCH CONTINUES
“Look,” I said, “I’m not up to this. I think I’m gonna cut next class and go sneak a smoke in the boys room. Wait outside and watch for hall monitors.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Have you turned into one of those goody-goody types? Teacher’s pet?”
“You quit smoking years ago, for one thing.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot there for a minute. What’s next then?”
“Algebra. Room 711. And we’ve got to hurry. It’s all the way on the other side of the school and I think you get detention if you're late.”
“Who’s the teacher?”
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