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Post by masato on Feb 20, 2011 0:55:00 GMT -5
masato || JIN || p f e i f f e r is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?
-------------------------------------------------------- February 19th, 2011
Out of mere impulse and curiosity, I crushed one of the pills that I have been fed for so many weeks at a time. BuSpar, as this plain white label states, was prescribed to me to control the unusual bouts of anxiety that have long since trembled through my core over these past few months – and though they have no special ability of wiping them completely clean from my conscience, my doctor had said that I "would still be able to keep myself in check."
… Well, I have to hand it to him, it was a well-fashioned lie at the time. Although, now that I have stayed clear of anesthesia and painful abdominal cramps for quite a while now…
Hmn.
To put it this way, it was somewhat like the 'brain model' projects that have been handed in to me by a few of my Introduction to Psychology classes: while those who have taken the time to work earnestly had their replicas stay intact, those who had rushed at the last minute – slapping labels on with immense globs of paste from their art classes the period before – often crumbled in my hands before I could even deliver them to my desk to grade.
And what had crumbled atop the surface of my kitchen table was not quite what I had expected. What had seemed to be an innocent tablet of buspirone was a mere mold of… finely-ground sugar.
For all of this time when I had believed I was sincerely feeling better thanks to some self-proclaimed medical aficionado, it had turned out that I had been swindled into becoming fodder to some money-based scheme.
For all of this time, I was fed a sham.
A placebo.
I should have known.
Masato Jin Pfeiffer |
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Post by masato on Mar 25, 2011 19:35:04 GMT -5
masato || JIN || p f e i f f e r is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?
-------------------------------------------------------- March 25th, 2011
What Teachers Make, or
Objection Overruled, or
If Things Don't Work Out, You Can Always Go to Law School
He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided that his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about
teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.
"I mean, you're a teacher, Masato," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"
And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy in my classroom
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and I can make an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you cannot ask a question.
Why won't I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you're bored,
and you don't really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
Hi, this is Mr. Pfeiffer. I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something that your son said today in class.
To the biggest bully in the grade, he said, "Leave the kid alone.
I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and who they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).
Here, let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
Teachers make a goddamn difference! Now what about you?
Masato Jin Pfeiffer |
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