Since my last writing I’ve been to a bit of an educational conference that has made me somewhat more inclined to be merciful and less critical of the drama queens in my life. Something was explained about emotional dysregulation and people acting out on very real feelings. The existence of those feelings may not make sense to outside parties. It is in this respect that the attention seeking drama queen behaviors are not necessarily as manipulative and evil as they most likely seem.
Anyway, I will still illustrate the drama queen.
This kid is one of our lowest ranking folks on the social hierarchy and was even more so when he was early on the island. Hence, he didn’t have much of a relationship at all with the other boys. One of the most popular kids was one day kicked off the island. He was a kid with a lot of close friends among the boys and the day he left a lot of people were pretty upset. However, the drama queen was new enough to the island he really hadn’t bonded with anyone yet and certainly had no special ties to the abolished child. Despite this, the most emotionally distraught individual was the drama queen who made the biggest scene in terms of how unfair it was that his super close friend was being run off the island.
A common recurring behavior of the drama queen is to display wounds that have involved bleeding. Every cut, knick, scrape that ever leaked the red liquid becomes something to show grown-ups as if the wounds should elicit a concerned response. One day the 100x magnification of this behavior could be seen when one of the other boys threw a rock and plunked the drama queen in the head. Drama queen fell to the ground under the blow and had quite a bit of bleeding from his lacerated scalp. It was a painful and disorienting wound, I’m sure. However, the hamming seemed to amp up gradually the further we got from the event. First there was the “I’m too stunned to apply pressure to my own bleeding wound.” This was followed by what I could have sworn was exaggerated sobbing. This came in conjunction with “I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him.” This is a reasonably predictable sentiment but really not plausible for this kid and seemed expressed more in acting than in true rage. All of his efforts seemed to come to fruition as a glowing pleasure emanated while the nurse cooingly cleaned and dressed his wound.
Considering the nature of his injury a concussion seemed not unlikely and it was decided that he needed to be seen by a doctor. This was on a Friday so he just took the boat back to the Cape with us. As we just started to head out the drama queen closed his eyes for a second wincing in pain when one of the other staff told him to not go to sleep because that can really complicate a concussion. Within a few seconds the drama queen leaned back as if about to nap when the staff shook him and repeated that he shouldn’t sleep. So, as the boat ride went on, the kid would make more and more fuss about pretending to sleep and getting pissed when the staff person would shake him to make sure he didn’t. He clearly relished the fact that he could get someone to respond to him every few seconds. After a while the other staff went out on the outside deck and the actress faked sleep again. I didn’t shake him awake. I just ignored him. And after the critical few seconds of “oh my gosh he’s falling asleep” wore off he gave up and stopped playing at it.
These are some of the most intense examples. The more day-to-day business from this kid is to act like he needs more help on his schoolwork than he does, throw exaggerated hissy fits over nothing, voluntarily “help” with things you really don’t want him to do, etc. But writing of this kid and considering the way these behaviors recently felt to me like someone scratching a chalkboard, I feel inclined to make a brief soapbox about how a kid gets to this point.
I mentioned in the princess post how it is understandable that so much of what is considered bad behavior from adolescents is simply a form of communication where in kids are trying like mad to get people they should have attached relationships with to acknowledge they do in fact exist and do in fact matter. Kids who might end up on the island don’t get this sort of acknowledgement. When they do it is usually in the wrong way meaning abuse. A lot of them don’t even really have attached relationships.
Sometimes people look at all the stupid, irresponsible, risky, and otherwise deviant things that adolescents do and impulsively criticize them. Instead I like the saying of President Monson in the Priesthood Session of Conference last October that young people need less criticism and better examples.* On the island we want to build relationships with kids. Then when their emotional needs are met they will want to change on their own. I think that it works. Last week I saw marked improvement in both princess and drama queen. It could be a temporary change but I like to think I’m seeing the fruit of what we do.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
The Princess
I was planning to write this bit in on my last week off but didn’t manage it. It turned out to be okay because this week gave me a lot of fodder for writing this up.
It may or may not seem strange to talk about hardened criminal adolescent boys as princesses and drama queens. However, in the last few weeks I’ve seen so much behavior that cannot be described otherwise. It is actually pretty pervasive, this princess-ness or drama queen-dom among the boys of Penikese Island. It kind of makes sense in that many of these guys are here with behavioral disorders because they haven’t gotten their needed allotment of attention etc. growing up. Consequently they often do things based on how much people pay attention to them, and their egos are particularly fragile. To illustrate I will describe some of what has gone on with the two boys I think most typify the concepts of princess and drămă queen.
The princess has a rather high opinion of his own appearance. He is very particular about the state of his “do rag.” (sp?) He was once observed looking at a photo of himself that didn’t turn out very well. He was going to burn it but changed his mind because as he referred to himself in the third person, “Adonis*, is just too beautiful.” This last week Adonis was quite proud of his outfit coming out the island. It constituted of a Lakers jersey and a pair of blue jeans with purple and yellow bands on the legs and pockets. (For those as ignorant as I, the Lakers wear yellow and purple.) It was the matching aspect of which he was most proud and I was most brutally mocking. Where I’m from, teenage boys are supposed to ignore such things and leave color matching to girls.
The princess Adonis is also very clever at spinning reality in such a way as to make you think he must be the most awesome person in the world. Should you ever play a few games of pool with him he will not only remember but also vigorously assert that he beat you many more times than he actually did. In my case I grant that he is a bit better at pool than I am. But due to luck, circumstance, whatever, I’ve managed to scrape by winning about half of the games we’ve had. Curiously though, the princess has only recently started to allow that I’ve beat him once. Another example came up this last week. In a bid for attention the princess invaded the staff sleeping quarters to lob bits of cookie dough at one of the other staff members. Refusing all requests to leave of his own power the staff present determined to perform “a restraint.” (That’s code for man-handling a kid or physically moving the kid to solve some kind of problem. There’s a lot of technical hoo hah about restraints but I’ll spare you for the moment.) Basically what happened was the two guys tried to wrestle him out of the room. He’s a big kid and resisted a lot so I helped them out. Anyway, even before the restraint was over the princess began reinventing how the whole thing went down. In each telling he framed himself in increasing terms of glory. “No what really happened was, I was restraining you” etc.
The princess is also not very good at taking criticism. He is clearly above the paltry needs for correction. To paraphrase They Might Be Giants I’ve said “Is it not enough that we get to walk in the glow of his majestic presence?” Examples of this include throwing fits when getting feedback on his math assignments and smashing lantern chimneys when reminded to do certain kitchen work.
Anyway, this is long and probably boring so… I’m going to give the drama queen installment some other time.
* This is a code name. I use it to protect the identity of someone who will never be affected by the publication of this blog.
It may or may not seem strange to talk about hardened criminal adolescent boys as princesses and drama queens. However, in the last few weeks I’ve seen so much behavior that cannot be described otherwise. It is actually pretty pervasive, this princess-ness or drama queen-dom among the boys of Penikese Island. It kind of makes sense in that many of these guys are here with behavioral disorders because they haven’t gotten their needed allotment of attention etc. growing up. Consequently they often do things based on how much people pay attention to them, and their egos are particularly fragile. To illustrate I will describe some of what has gone on with the two boys I think most typify the concepts of princess and drămă queen.
The princess has a rather high opinion of his own appearance. He is very particular about the state of his “do rag.” (sp?) He was once observed looking at a photo of himself that didn’t turn out very well. He was going to burn it but changed his mind because as he referred to himself in the third person, “Adonis*, is just too beautiful.” This last week Adonis was quite proud of his outfit coming out the island. It constituted of a Lakers jersey and a pair of blue jeans with purple and yellow bands on the legs and pockets. (For those as ignorant as I, the Lakers wear yellow and purple.) It was the matching aspect of which he was most proud and I was most brutally mocking. Where I’m from, teenage boys are supposed to ignore such things and leave color matching to girls.
The princess Adonis is also very clever at spinning reality in such a way as to make you think he must be the most awesome person in the world. Should you ever play a few games of pool with him he will not only remember but also vigorously assert that he beat you many more times than he actually did. In my case I grant that he is a bit better at pool than I am. But due to luck, circumstance, whatever, I’ve managed to scrape by winning about half of the games we’ve had. Curiously though, the princess has only recently started to allow that I’ve beat him once. Another example came up this last week. In a bid for attention the princess invaded the staff sleeping quarters to lob bits of cookie dough at one of the other staff members. Refusing all requests to leave of his own power the staff present determined to perform “a restraint.” (That’s code for man-handling a kid or physically moving the kid to solve some kind of problem. There’s a lot of technical hoo hah about restraints but I’ll spare you for the moment.) Basically what happened was the two guys tried to wrestle him out of the room. He’s a big kid and resisted a lot so I helped them out. Anyway, even before the restraint was over the princess began reinventing how the whole thing went down. In each telling he framed himself in increasing terms of glory. “No what really happened was, I was restraining you” etc.
The princess is also not very good at taking criticism. He is clearly above the paltry needs for correction. To paraphrase They Might Be Giants I’ve said “Is it not enough that we get to walk in the glow of his majestic presence?” Examples of this include throwing fits when getting feedback on his math assignments and smashing lantern chimneys when reminded to do certain kitchen work.
Anyway, this is long and probably boring so… I’m going to give the drama queen installment some other time.
* This is a code name. I use it to protect the identity of someone who will never be affected by the publication of this blog.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
The Place v2.0
So I have at long last gotten myself out of the barn. I still have a few bits waiting down there to haul out but for the most part I’ve relocated myself to the town of Brighton, which is kind of a suburb of Boston. It sets between Boston University and Boston College a little closer to Boston College. The public transportation set up here is pretty awesome. I have a train station about a block away and the bus that goes to church stops right in front of my place.
The glamorous bit is that my room happens to be in a church built a little over a hundred years ago which has been converted into a Buddhist temple. To be specific it is a Zen martial arts temple. The organization is called “Shim Gum Do” which is Korean and translates as the Mind Sword Way. The primary martial art practiced here is Shim Gum Do, which is a sword system where training is done by forms with a bokken. They also teach an empty-handed system called “Shim boep” which means the methods of the mind. For myself, I have begun training with the sword and I am quite enjoying it.
I am frequently asked about “the monks.” In this case there are no traditional monks as I knew them in Korea. That has to do with the fact that this is more a Zen martial arts school than a Buddhist monastery. The monks here are all martial artists and right now include our founding master Kim Chang Shik, and five white people. We have a sort of community living situation where we share certain amounts of the temple maintenance work, take turns cooking, train together, etc. Only the founding master has a shaved head.
I have a private room that sits next to (actually was constructed within) the main training room called the Dharma room that used to be the chapel. So, my room has a stained-glass window and a sort-of relief cast in plaster of a choir I think of as the Levites. There is a baby depicted in the cast with nasty grimace on his face.
If you like you can check out the Shim Gum Do Association website at www.shimgumdo.org
The glamorous bit is that my room happens to be in a church built a little over a hundred years ago which has been converted into a Buddhist temple. To be specific it is a Zen martial arts temple. The organization is called “Shim Gum Do” which is Korean and translates as the Mind Sword Way. The primary martial art practiced here is Shim Gum Do, which is a sword system where training is done by forms with a bokken. They also teach an empty-handed system called “Shim boep” which means the methods of the mind. For myself, I have begun training with the sword and I am quite enjoying it.
I am frequently asked about “the monks.” In this case there are no traditional monks as I knew them in Korea. That has to do with the fact that this is more a Zen martial arts school than a Buddhist monastery. The monks here are all martial artists and right now include our founding master Kim Chang Shik, and five white people. We have a sort of community living situation where we share certain amounts of the temple maintenance work, take turns cooking, train together, etc. Only the founding master has a shaved head.
I have a private room that sits next to (actually was constructed within) the main training room called the Dharma room that used to be the chapel. So, my room has a stained-glass window and a sort-of relief cast in plaster of a choir I think of as the Levites. There is a baby depicted in the cast with nasty grimace on his face.
If you like you can check out the Shim Gum Do Association website at www.shimgumdo.org
Friday, February 25, 2005
Extra Work
Greetings folks. There has been a bit less of me up here lately due to the fact that I've been covering on the island for some other folks and haven't had a chance to sit down and write.
A handful of interesting things to consider regarding activities on the island of late. Certain students' behavior has been making a glorious downward spiral and it has forced interesting new social circumstances most saliently on myself but also on one of my coworkers. The kids were caught smoking. They got fined, which is the standard consequence. This somehow turned the staff (first the other guy, then me) into "snitches." This struck me as odd because "snitch" is a term I'm used to being reserved for students who rat to staff. But either way, the two easy going folks doing their jobs became most hated persons 1 and 2.
Anyway, after the first smoking problem event, only one particular student was caught, fined, and absolved of his home pass. A form of guilt and glory-seeking led two other students (previous accomplices to the crime) to deliberately make a scene of smoking in front of staff making a jolly big crew of kids who've destroyed one of our major carrots to encourage rule keeping behavior. This "f*** it" attitude led to the next morning's smoking event in the school house, the one where I became the bad guy. This was all before I began my shift covering mania. (Oh yeah, I also forgot to mention the stand-off on the dock. Oh the stories!)
It was the next Monday to Wednesday where I covered and the real hatred came out and there were the genital exposing events. I might have covered the whole week except that Wednesday I met with some neuroscience folks at Boston University (a great and glorious story I may tell another time.) So then began what may be refered to by some as the week resembling Hell, or "The Abyss" if you are Gandalf. The week could be represented as one crisis after another. One crisis was a student threating people with knives from the kitchen, then an axe in the yard. Then we had the kid who lit a fire of rubbing alcohol in the schoolhouse who upon realizing he would be fined for it pulled the smoke-pipe off of the fireplace and said he was going to fill the school with smoke and kill us all. This was followed by the kid trying to escape the island in a row-boat. All of this sort of petering out into a general state of discontent. One kid was hauled from the island to go to jail. (Another long story.)
A likely assessment I heard was that we have a lot of kids on the island now (8!!!) so the two to one student - staff ratio wasn't getting these kids enough attention. So when each kid would have a crisis they would get all the attention, someone else would feel the lack and in turn have his crisis. (Oh, did I forget to mention the one defecating his trousers?) Anyway, Friday came. I stayed for the weekend shift. And suddenly it was three days of nice, normal, happy behavior. A lot of it had to do with the kid being hauled away. Both the fear of "this could happen to you" as well as his behavior being the source of a great deal of tension. But the weekend went smoothly, gloriously. It was all kind of surreal.
A handful of interesting things to consider regarding activities on the island of late. Certain students' behavior has been making a glorious downward spiral and it has forced interesting new social circumstances most saliently on myself but also on one of my coworkers. The kids were caught smoking. They got fined, which is the standard consequence. This somehow turned the staff (first the other guy, then me) into "snitches." This struck me as odd because "snitch" is a term I'm used to being reserved for students who rat to staff. But either way, the two easy going folks doing their jobs became most hated persons 1 and 2.
Anyway, after the first smoking problem event, only one particular student was caught, fined, and absolved of his home pass. A form of guilt and glory-seeking led two other students (previous accomplices to the crime) to deliberately make a scene of smoking in front of staff making a jolly big crew of kids who've destroyed one of our major carrots to encourage rule keeping behavior. This "f*** it" attitude led to the next morning's smoking event in the school house, the one where I became the bad guy. This was all before I began my shift covering mania. (Oh yeah, I also forgot to mention the stand-off on the dock. Oh the stories!)
It was the next Monday to Wednesday where I covered and the real hatred came out and there were the genital exposing events. I might have covered the whole week except that Wednesday I met with some neuroscience folks at Boston University (a great and glorious story I may tell another time.) So then began what may be refered to by some as the week resembling Hell, or "The Abyss" if you are Gandalf. The week could be represented as one crisis after another. One crisis was a student threating people with knives from the kitchen, then an axe in the yard. Then we had the kid who lit a fire of rubbing alcohol in the schoolhouse who upon realizing he would be fined for it pulled the smoke-pipe off of the fireplace and said he was going to fill the school with smoke and kill us all. This was followed by the kid trying to escape the island in a row-boat. All of this sort of petering out into a general state of discontent. One kid was hauled from the island to go to jail. (Another long story.)
A likely assessment I heard was that we have a lot of kids on the island now (8!!!) so the two to one student - staff ratio wasn't getting these kids enough attention. So when each kid would have a crisis they would get all the attention, someone else would feel the lack and in turn have his crisis. (Oh, did I forget to mention the one defecating his trousers?) Anyway, Friday came. I stayed for the weekend shift. And suddenly it was three days of nice, normal, happy behavior. A lot of it had to do with the kid being hauled away. Both the fear of "this could happen to you" as well as his behavior being the source of a great deal of tension. But the weekend went smoothly, gloriously. It was all kind of surreal.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
All the New Dudes
First off, I want to apologize for the fact that this post is not as organized or thematic as I generally like to make them. The last couple of weeks have been relatively momentous but... I don't know, so I'll just tell the story.
Three new guys on the island and one leaving. One of the kids, the Napoleonic kid I mentioned in my last island report, it was decided that our program might not be the right one for him. (That is to say we decided to arrange for him to be kicked out.) There were a great many problems with his behavior but, more importantly all of our treatment plans for him were being sabotaged from his home. The threat of getting kicked out had interesting effects on his behavior. They represent something quite common to most of these boys. Given certain conditions for not getting kicked out early on he began with an attitude that he was going to meet the requirements. However, in his decision making processes he consitently betrayed his stated intentions until a point of crisis arrived. When the difficulty (yet existent possibility) of succeeding in the goal reached a certain level, the boy determined that the whole thing was hopeless. Deciding that it was hopeless he let his behavior run in exactly the wrong course.
The three guys who've showed up: I'm finding that most of the kids when they are new and not yet secure with the situation tend to have pretty good behavior. They aren't comfortable enough to take more risks than they've already taken by just going to the island. Nonetheless, compared with the kid leaving, the kids coming are to me a breath of fresh air. There are of course many problems but they seem a lot more manageable from a sort of teacher type perspective.
The first of the three to come out is a kind of pot-head or at least that is how he presents himself. A lot of it may be due to the fact that he's on a plethora of medications, something someone referred to as a chemical restraint. Sleeps a lot. Hasn't been a stellar student in the past but for my money he's demonstrated the capacity to be. Imagine Brandon Rogers NOT on speed. (That's a joke.)
The second of the three new guys was just previously in a program in Magna. Yes, that's right. Magna, Utah. The place is called Vista and from what he said it sounds pretty awful. Someone might check it out for me. He ran away from there and they put him in the U's mental hospital up in Research Park near Fort Douglas Cemetery if you know where that is. Anyway, he's a great kid so far. Much more mature than I'm used to dealing with out here. Actively involved, hardworking, even volunteering in every part of the program.
I've been made the advisor to the third kid. That means I'll be in charge of helping make sure he meets all the graduation requirements for the program and so forth. There is something about him that kind of creeps me out a bit. He reminds me a couple of kids from the ancestral village. These were kids who had serious issues of substance abuse and physical abuse in their homes. The sign was a slightly awkward means of trying to be ingraciating. There is also a certain fragility to the body and an intangible quality to facial expressions. He's told me of certain anger problems but I think they are founded in some form of anxiety. He is definitely a little over anxious.
Anyway, all the new people have an interesting effect on the kids we already have. For one, they are not getting as much attention as they used to so... they are acting out in some ways to get some. Also, they have different behavioral patterns that are dampened or intensified where they have things respectively uncommon or common between them. All in all I expect a good effect. It seems some infusion of some more positive attitudes.
Due to libraries and timed internet use you will have to wait for the story of my week off island. There's my teaser trailer.
Three new guys on the island and one leaving. One of the kids, the Napoleonic kid I mentioned in my last island report, it was decided that our program might not be the right one for him. (That is to say we decided to arrange for him to be kicked out.) There were a great many problems with his behavior but, more importantly all of our treatment plans for him were being sabotaged from his home. The threat of getting kicked out had interesting effects on his behavior. They represent something quite common to most of these boys. Given certain conditions for not getting kicked out early on he began with an attitude that he was going to meet the requirements. However, in his decision making processes he consitently betrayed his stated intentions until a point of crisis arrived. When the difficulty (yet existent possibility) of succeeding in the goal reached a certain level, the boy determined that the whole thing was hopeless. Deciding that it was hopeless he let his behavior run in exactly the wrong course.
The three guys who've showed up: I'm finding that most of the kids when they are new and not yet secure with the situation tend to have pretty good behavior. They aren't comfortable enough to take more risks than they've already taken by just going to the island. Nonetheless, compared with the kid leaving, the kids coming are to me a breath of fresh air. There are of course many problems but they seem a lot more manageable from a sort of teacher type perspective.
The first of the three to come out is a kind of pot-head or at least that is how he presents himself. A lot of it may be due to the fact that he's on a plethora of medications, something someone referred to as a chemical restraint. Sleeps a lot. Hasn't been a stellar student in the past but for my money he's demonstrated the capacity to be. Imagine Brandon Rogers NOT on speed. (That's a joke.)
The second of the three new guys was just previously in a program in Magna. Yes, that's right. Magna, Utah. The place is called Vista and from what he said it sounds pretty awful. Someone might check it out for me. He ran away from there and they put him in the U's mental hospital up in Research Park near Fort Douglas Cemetery if you know where that is. Anyway, he's a great kid so far. Much more mature than I'm used to dealing with out here. Actively involved, hardworking, even volunteering in every part of the program.
I've been made the advisor to the third kid. That means I'll be in charge of helping make sure he meets all the graduation requirements for the program and so forth. There is something about him that kind of creeps me out a bit. He reminds me a couple of kids from the ancestral village. These were kids who had serious issues of substance abuse and physical abuse in their homes. The sign was a slightly awkward means of trying to be ingraciating. There is also a certain fragility to the body and an intangible quality to facial expressions. He's told me of certain anger problems but I think they are founded in some form of anxiety. He is definitely a little over anxious.
Anyway, all the new people have an interesting effect on the kids we already have. For one, they are not getting as much attention as they used to so... they are acting out in some ways to get some. Also, they have different behavioral patterns that are dampened or intensified where they have things respectively uncommon or common between them. All in all I expect a good effect. It seems some infusion of some more positive attitudes.
Due to libraries and timed internet use you will have to wait for the story of my week off island. There's my teaser trailer.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Letter to Anonymous
Greetings Anonymous,
I should like to respond to your comment. It has not to this point occured to me that the picture I paint of my life on the island here would not come off as a very good thing. In fact it is reasonable to wonder why in the world anyone would want to do this. But somehow, for me the events I've so far written about have been to me more descriptive than evaluative.
I am having a good time. Part of what's good about it is that it is a real challenge.
I had a conversation with someone who used to work here recently. He was telling me about how he was trying to help one of the program's graduates get a job. He had already set him up with some good work before but the kid had flaked out on it. So this former staff member's wife asked him why he did all this, why he bothered. His words were, "to give him a chance."
Giving these guys a chance is about all we can do at this juncture. So that's what we do. Give them a little separation from the kinds of things that usually get them into real trouble so they have time and space to learn what they need to function in the so-called real world.
There's a lot about it that is like doing missionary work. The simple fact is that no person can be forced to change anything about themself except to some extent by nature. The kids are growing up and there is a body of research that indicates the development of the brain's architecture continues well into the late teens. This will force some changes on the boys' behavior. However, we can do nothing to force them.
The result is that you sympathize with undeveloped perspective, rejoice in small changes, plant seeds when you get a chance, and hope for the best. Building relationships is pretty important in all of this. A kid doesn't confide if they don't trust you. If they don't feel like you care, the seeds you may scatter will fall on hard ground. So you earn their trust. For a lot of these kids trust have been a rare thing in their lives where they've been abandoned by parents, their friends have led them into crime and have left them to deal with the consequences alone, and their teachers and social workers have demonstrated that the paycheck really is the only reason they care about them. That is assuming teachers and social workers actually do care.
So doing this job feels kind of like being a life-line. I get to help create a path to a better life for these guys if they will choose it. But whether they choose it or not, the path is there.
Maybe that is kind of an answer.
I think all the negative stories is another part of the answer of why I'm having a good time. I am most at heart an anthropologist. These kids' behavior fascinates me. Seeing what they do and learning about the hows and whys of it is why I started this in the first place. The idea is that by learning more about them better ways of helping them may emerge.
I should like to respond to your comment. It has not to this point occured to me that the picture I paint of my life on the island here would not come off as a very good thing. In fact it is reasonable to wonder why in the world anyone would want to do this. But somehow, for me the events I've so far written about have been to me more descriptive than evaluative.
I am having a good time. Part of what's good about it is that it is a real challenge.
I had a conversation with someone who used to work here recently. He was telling me about how he was trying to help one of the program's graduates get a job. He had already set him up with some good work before but the kid had flaked out on it. So this former staff member's wife asked him why he did all this, why he bothered. His words were, "to give him a chance."
Giving these guys a chance is about all we can do at this juncture. So that's what we do. Give them a little separation from the kinds of things that usually get them into real trouble so they have time and space to learn what they need to function in the so-called real world.
There's a lot about it that is like doing missionary work. The simple fact is that no person can be forced to change anything about themself except to some extent by nature. The kids are growing up and there is a body of research that indicates the development of the brain's architecture continues well into the late teens. This will force some changes on the boys' behavior. However, we can do nothing to force them.
The result is that you sympathize with undeveloped perspective, rejoice in small changes, plant seeds when you get a chance, and hope for the best. Building relationships is pretty important in all of this. A kid doesn't confide if they don't trust you. If they don't feel like you care, the seeds you may scatter will fall on hard ground. So you earn their trust. For a lot of these kids trust have been a rare thing in their lives where they've been abandoned by parents, their friends have led them into crime and have left them to deal with the consequences alone, and their teachers and social workers have demonstrated that the paycheck really is the only reason they care about them. That is assuming teachers and social workers actually do care.
So doing this job feels kind of like being a life-line. I get to help create a path to a better life for these guys if they will choose it. But whether they choose it or not, the path is there.
Maybe that is kind of an answer.
I think all the negative stories is another part of the answer of why I'm having a good time. I am most at heart an anthropologist. These kids' behavior fascinates me. Seeing what they do and learning about the hows and whys of it is why I started this in the first place. The idea is that by learning more about them better ways of helping them may emerge.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
As the island turns... or something.
This last week on the island a couple of experiences sort of stick out.
One of our kids speaks frequently and braggingly of elements of his life off the island. He talks a lot about his sexual practices. He also talks a lot about drug use and related phenomena. All of this can build an impression that he has by whatever force been pushed into roles that are quite adult if not mature and that he himself has this degree of maturity. But this same kid one night this last week asked to be tucked into bed and told a bedtime story. There was a bit of jocularity in it but, at the same time he really did appreciate it. The experience sent him into a long explanation about how he feels like the program is affecting him and what he feels like he needs to get from it. The insightful explanation also revealed unsatisfied needs in the Maslowian sense, the kind of things that should have been met much earlier in his life.
Another of our kids... As I've been working with and watching him he has developed a perspective on the universe that is quite odd to me. All things must predictably go his way. He seems to be the case which is traditionally called spoiled...maybe. For example, he has a very strong habit of ordering people around. It doesn't matter who, why, or what about if he thinks something should be done he orders it. And I say orders it in the sense that nine times out of ten he yells the order in a most hateful condescending tone of voice. When he doesn't get what he wants 99 time out of 100 (this may be to generous) he uses explitives to vilify the person who refused to comply. A new experience for him is playing ping-pong, since the school recently obtained one. Having never really played it before, he isn't very good. In fact he's the worst of any I've seen play on the island. So, he consistently loses. Now the normal person who takes up a new game and plays against experienced players expects to lose and learn something about playing it. Not with this kid. He knew before he began that he must be able to win without trying. This belief has led to the most interesting tantrums at the table. His commands and orders have extended to ordering his opponents to not play according to their ability. In effect: "Stop hitting the ball back and scoring you f***er." This kid also has the belief that it is perfectly reasonable to ask other people to do for him things that he is perfectly capable of himself.
"Throw a log in the fire."
"Why?"
"Because it's going out."
"So, why don't you do it? You're standing as close to the wood as I am and I'm doing something."
"I don't care. Just do it."
"If it's so important to you, do it yourself."
"F*** you!"
This kind of thing has occured with so many things. "Tie my shoes." "Get my jacket." "Rack up the pool balls."
It will be interesting to see how long it will take for refusals to culminate in his getting a clue.
One of our kids speaks frequently and braggingly of elements of his life off the island. He talks a lot about his sexual practices. He also talks a lot about drug use and related phenomena. All of this can build an impression that he has by whatever force been pushed into roles that are quite adult if not mature and that he himself has this degree of maturity. But this same kid one night this last week asked to be tucked into bed and told a bedtime story. There was a bit of jocularity in it but, at the same time he really did appreciate it. The experience sent him into a long explanation about how he feels like the program is affecting him and what he feels like he needs to get from it. The insightful explanation also revealed unsatisfied needs in the Maslowian sense, the kind of things that should have been met much earlier in his life.
Another of our kids... As I've been working with and watching him he has developed a perspective on the universe that is quite odd to me. All things must predictably go his way. He seems to be the case which is traditionally called spoiled...maybe. For example, he has a very strong habit of ordering people around. It doesn't matter who, why, or what about if he thinks something should be done he orders it. And I say orders it in the sense that nine times out of ten he yells the order in a most hateful condescending tone of voice. When he doesn't get what he wants 99 time out of 100 (this may be to generous) he uses explitives to vilify the person who refused to comply. A new experience for him is playing ping-pong, since the school recently obtained one. Having never really played it before, he isn't very good. In fact he's the worst of any I've seen play on the island. So, he consistently loses. Now the normal person who takes up a new game and plays against experienced players expects to lose and learn something about playing it. Not with this kid. He knew before he began that he must be able to win without trying. This belief has led to the most interesting tantrums at the table. His commands and orders have extended to ordering his opponents to not play according to their ability. In effect: "Stop hitting the ball back and scoring you f***er." This kid also has the belief that it is perfectly reasonable to ask other people to do for him things that he is perfectly capable of himself.
"Throw a log in the fire."
"Why?"
"Because it's going out."
"So, why don't you do it? You're standing as close to the wood as I am and I'm doing something."
"I don't care. Just do it."
"If it's so important to you, do it yourself."
"F*** you!"
This kind of thing has occured with so many things. "Tie my shoes." "Get my jacket." "Rack up the pool balls."
It will be interesting to see how long it will take for refusals to culminate in his getting a clue.
Friday, December 24, 2004
The good pie crust.....
Everything works best if things are chilled. Chill the mixing bowl, spoons, measuring cups,as well as the milk, oil, etc. Not necessary to go overboard but the chilling helps.
Mix 1/2 cup of canola oil (Wesson brand is known to work well.) with
1 1/2 cups of sifted flour and
a pinch of salt.
Then add 5tbs of milk (1/4 cup + 1tbs).
You should derive an "oily-like" ball of dough.
As I received it the recipe then allows for digital manipulation in the pan to form the crust. However, what works best for me is to roll it out between two pieces of wax paper. It is then very easy to fix any wrinkles, cracks, or other damage with your fingers after flipping it into the pan.
Bake it empty at 350 for ~10 minutes. You can put milk or egg whites on it to get the nice browning if you so desire.
If you fill it... depends on the filling what you want to do but, the recipe calls for 375 for ~1 hour.
I like this crust because it is easy, has a good taste on it's own without anything in it, and has a nice flakiness to it.
Mix 1/2 cup of canola oil (Wesson brand is known to work well.) with
1 1/2 cups of sifted flour and
a pinch of salt.
Then add 5tbs of milk (1/4 cup + 1tbs).
You should derive an "oily-like" ball of dough.
As I received it the recipe then allows for digital manipulation in the pan to form the crust. However, what works best for me is to roll it out between two pieces of wax paper. It is then very easy to fix any wrinkles, cracks, or other damage with your fingers after flipping it into the pan.
Bake it empty at 350 for ~10 minutes. You can put milk or egg whites on it to get the nice browning if you so desire.
If you fill it... depends on the filling what you want to do but, the recipe calls for 375 for ~1 hour.
I like this crust because it is easy, has a good taste on it's own without anything in it, and has a nice flakiness to it.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Playing with Fire
A major theme of the last week's events is "all the stuff I learned about kids and fire."
Lesson Number One - Do not allow the boys to start the schoolhouse fire.
This particular lesson is representative of how slow a learner I am. One particular student prides himself on his ability to start our heating and cooking fires. In all reality the kid has no special skill but a tendency towards stoking the fire to the point where we are cooking birds perched on the roof for lunch. Because of ill-fortune and inadequate supplies, the first time I attempted to build the school house fire, I was not terribly successful. This was not such a bad thing because the weather was not yet that cold. However, this failure legitimized pyro-boy in claiming that I am not capable of building a proper fire. So, the last couple weeks when he has come to school his pattern has been to come to the school house, see that no fire is burning, insist and demand that he be the person to start it, then spend his entire school period playing with the fire instead of working at his math. On another day, another student did the same thing. I have therefore determined that I must be in the school early and have a roarer going before the first kid even thinks of prancing his way down.
Lesson Number Two - Do not allow the boys to sit with the door to the Franklin open during school.
In material this lesson was considerably more costly than the last but was more quickly learned. Once upon a time, I had two of the guys in school. One was sitting in front of the stove and asked that the door be open so he could look at the fire while he was working on whatever assignment he had at the time. Benign enough, I thought. So, I allowed for his wish. The other student in the class, being the type with some real social issues works really hard in awkward and inappropriate ways to obtain the approval of his peers. This student saw the open flames as an opportunity to create amusement for the other guy. Boy, did he exploit that opportunity. In the course this kid has burned the chalkboard eraser twice, a couple of books, and who knows how many writing implements. Now I must confess that sometimes he had to actually open the stove door to burn some of these things. However, the exposed flames have proven too much of a temptation. They even tried spraying window cleaner into the fire convinced that it was flamable despite my protestations otherwise. I usually don't like to argue with the boys over anything because it is almost never worth it. But now, I do fight to ensure that the stove door remains closed unless I'm putting wood in it.
Lesson Number Three - When dealing with extreme behavior problems involving fire, it's probably best to take the fuel away.
In Massachusetts right now it gets dark at around 4:30. I can have my students in school as late as 6:30 on some days so we have to have the kerosene lanterns in the school house. One afternoon a student determined to not do school work took an empty paper towel tube and stuck it in the chimney of his kerosene lamp and lit it on fire. He then proceeded to wave it around like a madman. This waving included getting it dangerously close to my face. Continued refusal to stop and put the thing out prompted me to grab the dust pan from the floor and slap the tube which successfully extinguished the fire. Unfortunately the student took this as a signal that he was to reignite the tube and thrust it into my shirt. It was that nice green army shirt I got at Grunts and Postures. You know the one. Anyway, the sleeve has a few nice little holes burned on the sleeve now. Realizing that extinguishing the fire was going to be inadequate this time, while he was waving the thing, I pulled some judo move where I grabbed his wrist and disarmed him. What remained of the tube found itself shortly consumed in the fireplace, never to be wave in anyone's face again.
Lesson Number One - Do not allow the boys to start the schoolhouse fire.
This particular lesson is representative of how slow a learner I am. One particular student prides himself on his ability to start our heating and cooking fires. In all reality the kid has no special skill but a tendency towards stoking the fire to the point where we are cooking birds perched on the roof for lunch. Because of ill-fortune and inadequate supplies, the first time I attempted to build the school house fire, I was not terribly successful. This was not such a bad thing because the weather was not yet that cold. However, this failure legitimized pyro-boy in claiming that I am not capable of building a proper fire. So, the last couple weeks when he has come to school his pattern has been to come to the school house, see that no fire is burning, insist and demand that he be the person to start it, then spend his entire school period playing with the fire instead of working at his math. On another day, another student did the same thing. I have therefore determined that I must be in the school early and have a roarer going before the first kid even thinks of prancing his way down.
Lesson Number Two - Do not allow the boys to sit with the door to the Franklin open during school.
In material this lesson was considerably more costly than the last but was more quickly learned. Once upon a time, I had two of the guys in school. One was sitting in front of the stove and asked that the door be open so he could look at the fire while he was working on whatever assignment he had at the time. Benign enough, I thought. So, I allowed for his wish. The other student in the class, being the type with some real social issues works really hard in awkward and inappropriate ways to obtain the approval of his peers. This student saw the open flames as an opportunity to create amusement for the other guy. Boy, did he exploit that opportunity. In the course this kid has burned the chalkboard eraser twice, a couple of books, and who knows how many writing implements. Now I must confess that sometimes he had to actually open the stove door to burn some of these things. However, the exposed flames have proven too much of a temptation. They even tried spraying window cleaner into the fire convinced that it was flamable despite my protestations otherwise. I usually don't like to argue with the boys over anything because it is almost never worth it. But now, I do fight to ensure that the stove door remains closed unless I'm putting wood in it.
Lesson Number Three - When dealing with extreme behavior problems involving fire, it's probably best to take the fuel away.
In Massachusetts right now it gets dark at around 4:30. I can have my students in school as late as 6:30 on some days so we have to have the kerosene lanterns in the school house. One afternoon a student determined to not do school work took an empty paper towel tube and stuck it in the chimney of his kerosene lamp and lit it on fire. He then proceeded to wave it around like a madman. This waving included getting it dangerously close to my face. Continued refusal to stop and put the thing out prompted me to grab the dust pan from the floor and slap the tube which successfully extinguished the fire. Unfortunately the student took this as a signal that he was to reignite the tube and thrust it into my shirt. It was that nice green army shirt I got at Grunts and Postures. You know the one. Anyway, the sleeve has a few nice little holes burned on the sleeve now. Realizing that extinguishing the fire was going to be inadequate this time, while he was waving the thing, I pulled some judo move where I grabbed his wrist and disarmed him. What remained of the tube found itself shortly consumed in the fireplace, never to be wave in anyone's face again.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
The Damage a Little Drug Test Can Do
Once upon a time there were some boys coming back to the island. You see they are allowed to leave from time to time for important holidays or other weekends and only on condition of adequate behavior. This one time a special group of boys came back and at least one smuggled cigarettes onto the island.
During this week one of the staff had decided to quit smoking so, his sensitivity to the scent of cigarette smoke was significantly enhanced. Several times during the week he caught a whiff and once even thought he perceived other substances in the air.
On one day, a group of boys behaving rather suspiciously in their pursuit of unsupervised time prompted the shift leader to require urine samples for drug testing. The lot lied quite poorly about how they wouldn't be so stupid as to be smoking and they didn't care what the results were going to be because they were all going to come back clean. This event reminds me that at times the students remind me of a certain Claudius but, I digress. Maybe I've mentioned that before.
Anyway, one of the boys later that night asked if we might be plotting to get him. His claimed supposition was that the school staff were going to manipulate his test results in order to prevent him from taking his next trip from the island. I attempted to assure him that his fear was unthinkable, that the staff's desire was to help, not punish him. He remained unconvinced.
Certain that he was basically screwed, he decided to screw himself the rest of the week. He got himself in trouble via excessive inappropriate (non-academic) sexual conversation. One day, he refused to go to school. Other things he did are beyond my ability to publish for their vileness. Anyway, he put himself at true risk of that which he feared.
Convinced of his completely imaginary fate he may have earned himself the penalty. But then of course I'm assuming that his fate was imaginary.
During this week one of the staff had decided to quit smoking so, his sensitivity to the scent of cigarette smoke was significantly enhanced. Several times during the week he caught a whiff and once even thought he perceived other substances in the air.
On one day, a group of boys behaving rather suspiciously in their pursuit of unsupervised time prompted the shift leader to require urine samples for drug testing. The lot lied quite poorly about how they wouldn't be so stupid as to be smoking and they didn't care what the results were going to be because they were all going to come back clean. This event reminds me that at times the students remind me of a certain Claudius but, I digress. Maybe I've mentioned that before.
Anyway, one of the boys later that night asked if we might be plotting to get him. His claimed supposition was that the school staff were going to manipulate his test results in order to prevent him from taking his next trip from the island. I attempted to assure him that his fear was unthinkable, that the staff's desire was to help, not punish him. He remained unconvinced.
Certain that he was basically screwed, he decided to screw himself the rest of the week. He got himself in trouble via excessive inappropriate (non-academic) sexual conversation. One day, he refused to go to school. Other things he did are beyond my ability to publish for their vileness. Anyway, he put himself at true risk of that which he feared.
Convinced of his completely imaginary fate he may have earned himself the penalty. But then of course I'm assuming that his fate was imaginary.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
"At least now you know I have them."
The students on the island have a fairly well established hierarchy. It has been quite easy to pick out where each individual fits in this heirarchy. One of the gammas seems to percieve himself as beta as demonstrated by the fact that he is the most likely to express aggression, give commands to other students, and in general engage in posturing. Testosterone flows freely in this void of seratonin.
The island also has a very obvious omega. Whenever something is missing, this student is accused. All the boys take opportunities to order him around, criticize him for weakness, and in general harrass him. This last week more physical forms of
harrasment increased to the tune of multi-student gangs taking punches or kicking and the victim lying in the fetal position covering his head with his hands.
There are arguments going around about how to help this kid make some personal progress and the social environment now complicates it. He consistently refuses to stand up for himself and tries, sometimes literally to hide behind the staff. The fact is he cannot possibly feel safe. But at the same time he cannot possibly be safe if he requires a constant adult bodyguard. This is something the victimizing students like to frequently point out often as a justification for their abuses. "We're trying to help you learn to stick up for yourself", they say. That claim is of course complete crap. It is quite simply the power-trip. These guys are just getting off on dominating someone, and doing it quite completely.
His cowardice is not entirely unfounded. It's not like this is an average ability kid who's merely psychologically blocking himself. He's kind of tall but he has very little physical strength and poor coordination: products of his background. I'd hoped that my pathetic attempts to participate in island athletics would encourage him to get out with the others and get some exercise. After all, if I can get out there and play as poorly as I do and make it back okay, surely he would see that he could as well. Unfortunately as ill-suited as I am, my abilities are much closer to that of the other folks than the omega's are to mine.
One of both the funniest and saddest events involving him occurred the other night. A few people were in the kitchen where teh alpha started tease the omega by feigning and eventually kicking him. In fact one kick landed right in that special place no true male wants to get kicked. "I didn't mean to kick your nuts", the kicker protested laughing. He continued to apologize profusely while the kicker was bent over in pain. "At least now you know I have them", he said. Indeed he has them. Now if only he could find them.
The island also has a very obvious omega. Whenever something is missing, this student is accused. All the boys take opportunities to order him around, criticize him for weakness, and in general harrass him. This last week more physical forms of
harrasment increased to the tune of multi-student gangs taking punches or kicking and the victim lying in the fetal position covering his head with his hands.
There are arguments going around about how to help this kid make some personal progress and the social environment now complicates it. He consistently refuses to stand up for himself and tries, sometimes literally to hide behind the staff. The fact is he cannot possibly feel safe. But at the same time he cannot possibly be safe if he requires a constant adult bodyguard. This is something the victimizing students like to frequently point out often as a justification for their abuses. "We're trying to help you learn to stick up for yourself", they say. That claim is of course complete crap. It is quite simply the power-trip. These guys are just getting off on dominating someone, and doing it quite completely.
His cowardice is not entirely unfounded. It's not like this is an average ability kid who's merely psychologically blocking himself. He's kind of tall but he has very little physical strength and poor coordination: products of his background. I'd hoped that my pathetic attempts to participate in island athletics would encourage him to get out with the others and get some exercise. After all, if I can get out there and play as poorly as I do and make it back okay, surely he would see that he could as well. Unfortunately as ill-suited as I am, my abilities are much closer to that of the other folks than the omega's are to mine.
One of both the funniest and saddest events involving him occurred the other night. A few people were in the kitchen where teh alpha started tease the omega by feigning and eventually kicking him. In fact one kick landed right in that special place no true male wants to get kicked. "I didn't mean to kick your nuts", the kicker protested laughing. He continued to apologize profusely while the kicker was bent over in pain. "At least now you know I have them", he said. Indeed he has them. Now if only he could find them.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Proposed Anthem
Due to my position as Poet Laureate of Flannel Haven I have assumed responsibility for composing lyrics for a national anthem. The said lyrics follow, and I seek a response from the Triumvirate or other interested parties. I have no idea how the music will sound.
You tell me that you love me
That you'll do anything.
But just what exactly
Does 'anything' mean?
Will you give me riches
In money and gems,
The wealth of the earth,
Silken robes with straight hems?
Will you give me your flannel?
Will you give me your flannel?
Will you work, sweat, and suffer
For all my commands?
Will your strength, heart, and labor
Bend to my demands?
Will you give me your flannel?
Will you give me your flannel?
Do you love me more than your mother
Than your gimp little brother?
Would you sacrifice things most dear to your heart:
Your hobbies, awards, and plumbing to start?
Will you part with addictions,
Forsake privacy?
Will you risk precious limbs
For your loyalty?
Will you give me your flannel?
* At the end of the song the singers should repeat the word "Eep" five times in a high pitched voice in succession.
The proposed title of this anthem is: "Will You Give Me Your Flannel?"
You tell me that you love me
That you'll do anything.
But just what exactly
Does 'anything' mean?
Will you give me riches
In money and gems,
The wealth of the earth,
Silken robes with straight hems?
Will you give me your flannel?
Will you give me your flannel?
Will you work, sweat, and suffer
For all my commands?
Will your strength, heart, and labor
Bend to my demands?
Will you give me your flannel?
Will you give me your flannel?
Do you love me more than your mother
Than your gimp little brother?
Would you sacrifice things most dear to your heart:
Your hobbies, awards, and plumbing to start?
Will you part with addictions,
Forsake privacy?
Will you risk precious limbs
For your loyalty?
Will you give me your flannel?
* At the end of the song the singers should repeat the word "Eep" five times in a high pitched voice in succession.
The proposed title of this anthem is: "Will You Give Me Your Flannel?"
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Den of Theives
The title of this post inspired by this last week's events on the island refers to three events of theft.
Event number one: student code name "Delta" was in school with student code name "Iota." As we were leaving school Delta took posession of one of Iota's magazines. When it came up missing Iota accused Delta, he having been the only one besides myself with opportunity to take it. For whatever reason Iota was not inclined to suspect me. Somehow the sketchiness of my charachter has yet to be rewarded. Upon returning to the house the magazine was observed being hidden in a couch by one of the staff and was quickly recovered. The motive for stealing the magazine having not been satisfied Delta proceeded to snatch magazine number two. This time he took greater labors to accomplish his goal by not leaving it in such an obvious location. Delta in fact made the unreadable for future purposes by depositing it in the latrine. Iota responded to this event with a great deal of ire but inquired of Delta his motivation. Delta said, "Because I have no use for it." The total lack of consideration of feelings intensified Iota's ire and he decided to pummel Delta for a breif period before being restrained.
Event number two: Student code name "Epsilon" snatched all three existing pool cue balls from the house. In their absense other students took a spare 8 ball and colored in the white bits with a red marker to use as a cue. Within a day or so a student walking in proximity of the schoolhouse came upon one of the old wells and there spotted at the bottom of the well three cue balls sitting in a row. This same student, code name "Alpha," proposed that he might retrieve them as a form of community service. At the well a variety of things were attempted and proposed. All efforts that would accomplish the job from the surface availed nothing due to the depth of the well. It was then proposed that Alpha enter the well bodily as lowered by a rope. A couple different ideas were tried but the best was that he sit on a type of bouy and hold a rope. However, when lowered into the hole Alpha panicked, refused to release the surface to grab the rope, and was drawn again from the hole.
Event number three: This final theft probably three students code named "Beta," "Rho," and "Tau." How exactly it all came to pass was never fully discovered. After coming in from football one day, the shift leader announced that something had been stolen. The thief was given the opportunity to return the unnamed item or room searches would be done. Noone fessed up so the rooms were tossed. One of the students asked if it had been a something from my person which made me suspicious that he knew something so I checked to find my key to all the island locks missing and then heard from a staff member that someone had broken into the office and stolen his cigarettes. The search found nothing and things went back to something of normal with heightened supervision of students. As this was going on I came down the stairs and apparently walked in on a conversation between Beta, Rho, and Tau that cut off quite suddenly and suspiciously. It seemed that Beta and Tau had been explaining to Rho what they had done. It have been just the night previous that while walking with Beta and Tau on the island that Beta had seemed far too interested in the fact that I had a key.
Later, while in class during the math bit, I deliberately did not get out the calculators that were locked up and the students asked why. I explained that my key had been stolen and as so many times from Beta's response I was reminded of Claudius and the players. Beta and Rho claimed no knowledge and that they didn't believe in stealing 'cause it's bad hmmmmkay! During school Tau visited class. He had been working in the kitchen. A secret not was passed from Rho to Tau. The contents were later discovered to be a plan to return certain of the stolen items. Meanwhile, in asking questions and describing the awfulness of stealing Beta revealed that he knew exactly what had happened and how.
By lunch the key had reappeared along with the package and 5 cigarettes.
Event number one: student code name "Delta" was in school with student code name "Iota." As we were leaving school Delta took posession of one of Iota's magazines. When it came up missing Iota accused Delta, he having been the only one besides myself with opportunity to take it. For whatever reason Iota was not inclined to suspect me. Somehow the sketchiness of my charachter has yet to be rewarded. Upon returning to the house the magazine was observed being hidden in a couch by one of the staff and was quickly recovered. The motive for stealing the magazine having not been satisfied Delta proceeded to snatch magazine number two. This time he took greater labors to accomplish his goal by not leaving it in such an obvious location. Delta in fact made the unreadable for future purposes by depositing it in the latrine. Iota responded to this event with a great deal of ire but inquired of Delta his motivation. Delta said, "Because I have no use for it." The total lack of consideration of feelings intensified Iota's ire and he decided to pummel Delta for a breif period before being restrained.
Event number two: Student code name "Epsilon" snatched all three existing pool cue balls from the house. In their absense other students took a spare 8 ball and colored in the white bits with a red marker to use as a cue. Within a day or so a student walking in proximity of the schoolhouse came upon one of the old wells and there spotted at the bottom of the well three cue balls sitting in a row. This same student, code name "Alpha," proposed that he might retrieve them as a form of community service. At the well a variety of things were attempted and proposed. All efforts that would accomplish the job from the surface availed nothing due to the depth of the well. It was then proposed that Alpha enter the well bodily as lowered by a rope. A couple different ideas were tried but the best was that he sit on a type of bouy and hold a rope. However, when lowered into the hole Alpha panicked, refused to release the surface to grab the rope, and was drawn again from the hole.
Event number three: This final theft probably three students code named "Beta," "Rho," and "Tau." How exactly it all came to pass was never fully discovered. After coming in from football one day, the shift leader announced that something had been stolen. The thief was given the opportunity to return the unnamed item or room searches would be done. Noone fessed up so the rooms were tossed. One of the students asked if it had been a something from my person which made me suspicious that he knew something so I checked to find my key to all the island locks missing and then heard from a staff member that someone had broken into the office and stolen his cigarettes. The search found nothing and things went back to something of normal with heightened supervision of students. As this was going on I came down the stairs and apparently walked in on a conversation between Beta, Rho, and Tau that cut off quite suddenly and suspiciously. It seemed that Beta and Tau had been explaining to Rho what they had done. It have been just the night previous that while walking with Beta and Tau on the island that Beta had seemed far too interested in the fact that I had a key.
Later, while in class during the math bit, I deliberately did not get out the calculators that were locked up and the students asked why. I explained that my key had been stolen and as so many times from Beta's response I was reminded of Claudius and the players. Beta and Rho claimed no knowledge and that they didn't believe in stealing 'cause it's bad hmmmmkay! During school Tau visited class. He had been working in the kitchen. A secret not was passed from Rho to Tau. The contents were later discovered to be a plan to return certain of the stolen items. Meanwhile, in asking questions and describing the awfulness of stealing Beta revealed that he knew exactly what had happened and how.
By lunch the key had reappeared along with the package and 5 cigarettes.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
The Place
Hopefully this reading will be worth the while of anyone who bothers to test it.
I am now happily settled into a transitory state. I told many folks that I was going to be moving temporarily into an apartment on the cape until I could get a satisfactory residence within walking distance of a Boston train station. When I first heard of the apartment I was given very little detail except that someone at the school had arranged for it and that the proposed rent was 250/month. This would be rather excellent considering the location. It would also prove incredibly convenient for me in that I would have the opportunity to more fully investigate Boston and have time to pick out the most perfect apartment. That things should not be so rosy should have occurred to me much sooner than it did because the trail of breadcrumbs had been laid out. However, my bleeding optimism and offerings of benficent doubt eventually caught up with me. The morning I arrived for work a couple of weeks ago, one of my bosses asked about my housing plans. I told him that I didn't know for certain all the details except those things that I've told everyone. He concurred that he was of similar information but that the expected rent was in the range of 250-300. I also got some information that indicated cooking was going to be constrained. Later that day I found out the name of the person who'd made the arrangements and in another discussion was told something about a barn. This notion of barn had me a bit confused but I figured it could have been a kind of joke, a rennovation, something other than me sleeping in a hay loft.
Because I had to go out to the island that morning I didn't hear more of it for a couple of days. Wednesday one of the students was graduating and a group of staff came out to the island. The party included the gentleman who'd arranged for the apartment at which time I learned that it was in fact a barn with some modifications. A well insulated bedroom and bathroom had been put in the second floor. Certain windows were not to be opened during the winter because heating issues and potential for freezing pipes and several other things I couldn't commit the details of to memory. The presence of a smart but disabled old lady was clarified and confusingly she was consistently referred to as "my land-lady." That is to say that Mr. So-and-so spoke of her as his land-lady, not as mine. He also mentioned that there was some linen available for me to use in the house. He would turn on the water heater and turn off the dish network and remove the TV for me. All of these things were clues to what I would find but, I missed and ignored their signifigance.
The blessed day arrived. Friday came, I made it back to shore, and my boss was to show me the road to this barn turned apartment. We met the old lady at her house which was next door. Turns out it was a barn of her family's and she's been selling off little bits of a huge lot over the years around there other out buildings being converted into homes over the course of it. She explained that the place was clean but she'd been up there to find a bit of clutter around. On this comment I imagined bare rooms with a few odds and ends left behind in corners or on shelves, something akin to what I've left behind when I've moved out of apartments in the past. The old lady gave me the key. The barn was locked up by a padlock. The three of us openend it and climbed the stairs. What we found there defied all of my expectations. The first room of the second floor was filled with boxes of random bits of a man's past. There was a long pipe along one wall covered in hanging clothes. The floor was covered with bits of hay tracked in from downstairs. The dresser was covered with material on top and the drawers beneath were still half-full of clothes.
I was surprised by this but not too. I had been given the impression that the spaces outside of the bedroom and bathroom were not particularly organized or otherwise taken care of and considered how much work it would take to fix things up a bit as we looked in the bedroom. Someone surely still lived there. The bed looked as if it had recently been slept in. There were bits of paperwork, pocket knives, deodorant sticks, coins, business cards, a million different things that a person needs from day to day. The TV was still there and my boss noticed what she thought was a belt sander. Convenient, if I was looking forward to doing any kind of wood sanding...? We crossed over to the bathroom and found a similar sight. Everything had been newly constructed and seemed to be in working order, in fact as if it had been used within the last twenty-four hours. The vanity was covered with toothpastes, shaving cream cans, after shave lotions, facial moisturizers, and yet more sticks of deodorant. I was stunned.
My boss may have been even more stunned. She apologized profusely protesting that she too had been misled regarding the conditions to be found. She left, and for me the moment of true agitation had not yet come. I climbed back up the stairs and went into the bedroom to get my bearings on how exactly I was going to move in and what I was going to do with my stuff. It was then that I took a close look at the bed and discovered rodent feces. Rodent feces on a bed that looked like it had been slept in the night before. A bit apalled, I looked around at the floor to discover more signs of the passage of mice.
Before I came out here I had determined that I might live in this place as much as 6 months. That would allow me to get my bearings and spend the time to find an absolutely perfect place in Boston. Now, I thought a month sounded like plenty of time and wondered why it shouldn't be within a week. I won't detail all of my responses to this situation but, let me say I continue to find interesting and fun surprises. The belt sander turned out to be some kind of massage device. I found a passport, a fridge full of fungus and something that looks like vomit, bits of hay covering bathroom and bedroom floors, etc, etc. I hope I don't have to be here too long.
I am now happily settled into a transitory state. I told many folks that I was going to be moving temporarily into an apartment on the cape until I could get a satisfactory residence within walking distance of a Boston train station. When I first heard of the apartment I was given very little detail except that someone at the school had arranged for it and that the proposed rent was 250/month. This would be rather excellent considering the location. It would also prove incredibly convenient for me in that I would have the opportunity to more fully investigate Boston and have time to pick out the most perfect apartment. That things should not be so rosy should have occurred to me much sooner than it did because the trail of breadcrumbs had been laid out. However, my bleeding optimism and offerings of benficent doubt eventually caught up with me. The morning I arrived for work a couple of weeks ago, one of my bosses asked about my housing plans. I told him that I didn't know for certain all the details except those things that I've told everyone. He concurred that he was of similar information but that the expected rent was in the range of 250-300. I also got some information that indicated cooking was going to be constrained. Later that day I found out the name of the person who'd made the arrangements and in another discussion was told something about a barn. This notion of barn had me a bit confused but I figured it could have been a kind of joke, a rennovation, something other than me sleeping in a hay loft.
Because I had to go out to the island that morning I didn't hear more of it for a couple of days. Wednesday one of the students was graduating and a group of staff came out to the island. The party included the gentleman who'd arranged for the apartment at which time I learned that it was in fact a barn with some modifications. A well insulated bedroom and bathroom had been put in the second floor. Certain windows were not to be opened during the winter because heating issues and potential for freezing pipes and several other things I couldn't commit the details of to memory. The presence of a smart but disabled old lady was clarified and confusingly she was consistently referred to as "my land-lady." That is to say that Mr. So-and-so spoke of her as his land-lady, not as mine. He also mentioned that there was some linen available for me to use in the house. He would turn on the water heater and turn off the dish network and remove the TV for me. All of these things were clues to what I would find but, I missed and ignored their signifigance.
The blessed day arrived. Friday came, I made it back to shore, and my boss was to show me the road to this barn turned apartment. We met the old lady at her house which was next door. Turns out it was a barn of her family's and she's been selling off little bits of a huge lot over the years around there other out buildings being converted into homes over the course of it. She explained that the place was clean but she'd been up there to find a bit of clutter around. On this comment I imagined bare rooms with a few odds and ends left behind in corners or on shelves, something akin to what I've left behind when I've moved out of apartments in the past. The old lady gave me the key. The barn was locked up by a padlock. The three of us openend it and climbed the stairs. What we found there defied all of my expectations. The first room of the second floor was filled with boxes of random bits of a man's past. There was a long pipe along one wall covered in hanging clothes. The floor was covered with bits of hay tracked in from downstairs. The dresser was covered with material on top and the drawers beneath were still half-full of clothes.
I was surprised by this but not too. I had been given the impression that the spaces outside of the bedroom and bathroom were not particularly organized or otherwise taken care of and considered how much work it would take to fix things up a bit as we looked in the bedroom. Someone surely still lived there. The bed looked as if it had recently been slept in. There were bits of paperwork, pocket knives, deodorant sticks, coins, business cards, a million different things that a person needs from day to day. The TV was still there and my boss noticed what she thought was a belt sander. Convenient, if I was looking forward to doing any kind of wood sanding...? We crossed over to the bathroom and found a similar sight. Everything had been newly constructed and seemed to be in working order, in fact as if it had been used within the last twenty-four hours. The vanity was covered with toothpastes, shaving cream cans, after shave lotions, facial moisturizers, and yet more sticks of deodorant. I was stunned.
My boss may have been even more stunned. She apologized profusely protesting that she too had been misled regarding the conditions to be found. She left, and for me the moment of true agitation had not yet come. I climbed back up the stairs and went into the bedroom to get my bearings on how exactly I was going to move in and what I was going to do with my stuff. It was then that I took a close look at the bed and discovered rodent feces. Rodent feces on a bed that looked like it had been slept in the night before. A bit apalled, I looked around at the floor to discover more signs of the passage of mice.
Before I came out here I had determined that I might live in this place as much as 6 months. That would allow me to get my bearings and spend the time to find an absolutely perfect place in Boston. Now, I thought a month sounded like plenty of time and wondered why it shouldn't be within a week. I won't detail all of my responses to this situation but, let me say I continue to find interesting and fun surprises. The belt sander turned out to be some kind of massage device. I found a passport, a fridge full of fungus and something that looks like vomit, bits of hay covering bathroom and bedroom floors, etc, etc. I hope I don't have to be here too long.
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