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Tuesday, June 9, 2015

A little poem I wrote to my lovely wife about 11 years ago for Mother's Day. I gave it to her with a special necklace that had four pretty characters that matched our children to a tee. Hard to believe it's been 22 years since we started our journey together and that it's been 11 years since our family became what it is today. Love my little family and I love my beautiful bride.



You + Me = Them and Us

It started with me; I was looking for you.
And find you I did so then we were two.

Two was just fine but something was missing.
While we thought about what, somebody was listening.



Next thing we knew it seemed out of thin air.
Little Syveah was born, like a “mermaid” so fair.


So the two were now three and some thought it a crowd,
But to stop with one child was just not allowed.

Along came Amaya, she’s so eager to learn.
Now next to our mermaid we have our “bookworm”.

Now we thought we were done at least for a while,
But the stork called again and we could just smile.

Horace the third A.K.A Trey he is found,
Also answers to Trey-dawg, but to Dad he’s “Touchdown”.

So our family was buzzing like a little beehive.
Now busier yet as we grew six from five.

The addition of Jadyn makes our family so smug,
For all five adore our sweet “Jadybug”.


Eleven years later since we were just two.
Now we’re three times as many, four kids, me and you!

With each new addition my love multiplies.
For now that I see you through eight more bright eyes!



Friday, April 3, 2015

Yesterday - Poem of Jesus through His Mother's eyes.



YESTERDAY



Yesterday my son was born, a beautiful boy is He. 
Yesterday He smiled at me, and filled my heart with glee.

Yesterday I held His hand, so small and baby soft.
Yesterday I watched Him sleep up in our little loft.

Yesterday I watched Him pray to His Father up above
Yesterday He told me all about His Father’s love.

Yesterday I saw Him read, to quench His thirsty mind.
Yesterday I saw Him play with gentleness so kind.

Yesterday I heard Him teach about the things He knew.
Yesterday more people came, and He did teach them too.

Yesterday I told my Son, that I did love Him so.
Yesterday my son told me it was time for Him to go.

Yesterday I heard about my son in Galilee.
Yesterday I learned my son had caused a man to see.

Yesterday His letter came and silently I read.
Yesterday I thought of Him, as I beheld His empty bed.

Yesterday I missed Him so, and wished He were nearby.
Yesterday my selfishness did bring me down to cry.

Yesterday with little food, my son had thousands fed.
Yesterday a dear close friend, my son raised from the dead.

Yesterday He came home to me and slept here in my hold.
Yesterday He gave me strength thru love more precious than gold.

Yesterday He left again, yet I did wave and smile.
Yesterday my son taught me to go the extra mile.

Yesterday a friend approached and thanked me for my son.
Yesterday a stranger said, he knew my son’s the One.

Yesterday my heart was full of love for my son’s life.
Yesterday it broke my heart, for I learned of my son’s strife.

Yesterday the government asked my son to cease.
Yesterday my son did eat with friends a special feast.

Yesterday He prayed all night and bled from every pore.
Yesterday the sins of all, my son graciously paid for.

Yesterday my son’s dear friend betrayed Him with a kiss.
Yesterday His enemies did beat Him with their fists.

Yesterday they spit on Him, and whipped Him without cause.
Yesterday the wounds still fresh, yet the beatings did not pause.

Yesterday they sentenced Him, to death their judgment lacked.
Yesterday they threw stones at Him as a cross bore upon His back.

Yesterday they placed a crown of thorns upon His head.
Yesterday they cheered and jeered, knowing soon He would be dead.

Yesterday large nails were hammered deep in His hands and feet.
Yesterday His wrists were nailed, to insure His flesh's defeat.

Yesterday they raised Him up, high upon Calvary’s Hill.
Yesterday I saw my son hanging oh so very still.

Yesterday He looked at me and pierced me with His eye.
Yesterday I knew my son was not afraid to die.

Yesterday He spoke out loud to the Father whom He knew.
Yesterday He forgave them all, “For they know not what they do.”

Yesterday He closed His eyes and I did mourn for His sake.
Yesterday the sky grew dark and all the earth did shake.

Yesterday they moved my son, and placed Him in a tomb.
Yesterday I prayed for Him as I knelt within my room.

Yesterday I went to Him, to visit His resting place.
Yesterday I sought Him there, but He was gone without a trace.

Yesterday my son returned and glorious was His greet.
Yesterday my son lived again for I saw His hands and feet.

Yesterday my heart was full, for the mission of my son.
Today my soul rejoiceth, for I know He is the One.

Yesterday He died for us, and paid for all our sins.
Tomorrow if today’s lived right, we’ll live with Him again.

By Horace R Hallenberger

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Kicking and Screaming

Home life at our house was always an adventure.  Having lots of siblings with different hobbies and interests caused many interesting discussions, arguments, teasing and even, once in a while, physical combat.

I was always one who chose to use words rather than get physical. I was “blessed” with a quick wit and exercised it often. I liked to tease and joke about just about everything. Mostly it was good humor and seldom was it mean spirited or hurtful. I perfected sarcasm and that was the one skill that my mom probably hated the most.

I recall one Christmas that I received a new boom box with dual cassette and AM/FM/Short Wave radio. It was one of my favorite presents ever. It was a shiny silver color and had all the bells and whistles including a bass booster, hi-speed dubbing and an external built-in microphone. I had a great time making mix tapes with recordings off the radio. Better yet was recording all my favorite songs from the cassette albums we had. Sometimes I would just record what was going on around the house using the built-in microphone.

One day I was being particularly obnoxious and sparking pointless arguments between my mom and my siblings. During the spats I had the recorder set and caught all the dirt on tape. Every so often I would chime in to keep the conversation going. When I did this the recorder would sometimes make a high pitched squeal like when a microphone is picking up some electronic interference. My mom would yell at me to turn it off and I would look at her and innocently ask “What?” She would start fuming and threatening me with punishments I knew she wouldn't follow through with so I just kept it up.

Years later I found that tape and though it was funny listening to the arguments I felt pretty bad for being a pill to my mom.

One argument that took place one morning was between my sister, Michele, and my brother, Michael. Michael was a terror to Michele so this morning wasn't too out of the ordinary. As usual the argument was pretty petty with Michael just trying to get under Michele’s skin. He was so successful that they eventually were both screaming things that were flat out mean. One comment from Michele was so piercing to Michael’s psyche that he closed his fist and punched her right in one of her breasts. The punch was hard and Michele was in pain.

Michael looked at her and had his fists up like he was in the boxing ring. Michele glared at him with cold eyes that were fighting back tears. Then without any warning she kicked her foot out like the strike from a rattlesnake. Her kick connected with Michael’s groin squarely and with force. Michael’s eyes got big and then slightly rolled back into his head. He grabbed his crotch and hit the floor hard writhing in agony.

Michele stood over him like Muhammad Ali stood above Sonny Liston, but with one hand clutching her breast. Michael didn't see her though. He couldn't even open his eyes. He just laid there in the fetal position crying.

After a few moments Michael was really wailing. Mom came upstairs and asked what was going on. We explained the situation and eventually arrived at Michele’s retaliation kick. Through it all, Michael remained in the same position crying hard. He said he couldn't move and when mom tried to help him get up he cried out in greater pain.

Mom decided she better take him to the hospital to make sure the injury wasn't serious. I helped get Michael to the car which I could tell was not pleasant for him. I've seen Michael hurt before from some of our “smear the queer” competitions but I had never seen him like this.

Mom left me in charge and quickly drove away. I went back in the house and made lunch for the kids. The next hour was uneventful as most of us were keeping to ourselves and silently thinking about Michael and hoping he was okay. Finally the phone rang and I answered it. It was my mom. She said that Michael was going into surgery for an appendicitis that was about to burst. She told me it had nothing to do with the kick from Michele other than it triggered the pain.

After we hung up everyone was asking me what Michael’s status was. I couldn't resist the opportunity to have a little fun with the situation. I told them that Michael was going into surgery because Michele’s kick had caused internal bleeding. I poured it on thick. Maybe too thick. I added that Michael might never be able to have children now. Michele was horrified and the rest of the family was very concerned.

The rest of the day was very solemn. Everyone was keeping to themselves and their thoughts. I heard prayers uttered and some crying off and on.


I made dinner and as we sat down to eat we heard mom come into the house. Everyone ran to her asking eagerly about Michael’s condition. Michele was hugging mom and saying how sorry she was over and over.

Mom told everyone that Michael was okay and he was resting at the hospital. She said the surgery went very well and that they were able to successfully remove the appendix before it burst. At that moment I received a glare from Michele that I had only seen once before in my life. The moment before she violently and effectively kicked Michael earlier that day. I instinctively protected my groin area with my hands and I smiled at her but tried to not stoke a fire that was obviously burning within her.

Needless to say the whole family was a little upset with me. I still think it was pretty funny but I do understand their point of view.

Over dinner mom told us that the doctor had saved the appendix completely intact in a jar because he had never seen one so large that had not exploded. At the end of the day I realized that Michael should thank Michele for her decision to kick him. If it hadn't triggered the pain, his appendix may have burst and thus causing a much more serious situation.

Moral of the story? As your mother always told you, don’t punch your sister in the boob.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

One Mystery Solved

I am amazed at the concept of eternity. The possibility of endlessness. The fact that there is no beginning and no end to space. And how does God fit in? So many things that are so difficult to comprehend. My mind physically aches when I try to understand the mystery of space. Understanding God takes an even greater toll. I believe that understanding God helps reveal the other mysteries that are all around us, including space. I also believe that trying to understand nature and space ultimately leads us to God.



To me God is more than just a Great Spirit or presence. I believe that he looks like man, glorified and perfect. I believe that he is the creator of my spirit and of this world. I believe he is all knowing and that he has a personal relationship with each of us that existed prior to our earthly existence. I believe that my relationship with Him is waiting to be rekindled through the way I live my life. I believe that He loves me as much as anything He has ever loved.

People have asked, how do you know He loves you? How is it possible to love everyone on this earth so personally? It’s one of those mysteries of God that unveils itself beginning with the creation process. As a parent of four beautiful children of my own, I have experienced the miracle that is creation. I have also experienced the immense love that a parent has for each of his children. Each of them different. With the limited knowledge and capacity of a man I feel love beyond measure for each of them. When my first was born I was filled with this love. It consumed me. When my second daughter was born I found my capacity to love literally doubled. My capacity to love in that way has grown each time a child entered my life.

If my wife and I had continued to have children there is no doubt in my mind that my love would not be divided between each child, but rather would be multiplied tremendously. Seems impossible when you think about it, but once you've experienced the phenomenon it becomes very real.

So back to that question of how does God, our Heavenly Father, have a personal relationship with each of his children on this earth? Well, my mind is as limited as yours so it confounds me to think about, but I believe that his capacity is far greater than ours. I believe that just like my own children, his love has been multiplied by each child that he has sent to earth.


I believe the personal relationship part is something that existed before we came to earth. Heavenly Father remembers us even though we do not remember Him or understand Him fully. Those of us that have sought Him out and recognized His existence and His hand in our lives have begun the process of rekindling that relationship. I believe that is why people feel so good when they first hear of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation that He has so perfectly laid out for us. It’s because our spirits recognize what is being taught as it was taught to us before while in the preexistence. It makes us feel tremendous happiness when we begin to realize what we knew to be true before our earthly state.

I believe that God wants each of His children to feel His love again as they did before they came to earth as little children. Just like an earthly parent who longs for their child to feel the love that they have long after they have grown and moved away. Parents, like our Heavenly Father, never cease in their efforts to reach out to their child no matter the difficulty or pain that may be present.

As I think of my children growing up with so many influences that are contrary to what I believe our Heavenly Father would approve of, I often feel that pain. I think of the difficulties that life has presented to my own existence and the pitfalls that have seemed too deep to climb out of. It scares me to think that my children may not be strong enough or that they will not find God in their lives.

I know that I will never stop showing my children what my Heavenly Father means to me. I will always seek His help as I exercise my fatherly duties. The more that I turn to Him in prayer regarding my children and as I apply what He teaches me I see my personal relationship with Him become more and more like that of a father and child. The father being perfect in all His advice and direction. The child being innocent and humble in his Father’s guidance.

As I have grown to know my Heavenly Father more and more I have learned some very important lessons that have helped me understand situations that I experienced with my own parents and siblings.

My parents are both believers in God and for the most part tried their best to teach us what they knew concerning Him. They taught us how to pray and showed us the importance of God’s commandments. They weren't perfect. They made mistakes like everyone does. But they were good examples of loving others.

As my siblings and I have grown we have all taken many different paths as we have chosen what and who we have wanted to become. Along the way, some of us have chosen to seek out God in our lives and others have not. I know that this is difficult for my parents and they are often burdened with the thoughts of failure. It is painful for them.

Through the pain they have always maintained their love for each of their children. This love has been evident regardless of the relationship that each child has with God. It has been evident even when the relationship that my parents have with the child is weak. Their love has continued even when children have all but severed themselves away from them.

I know that type of love. My parents have always loved me. Through my ups and downs, through my good decisions and the ones that were questionable at best, my parents are always there if I need them.

I have that love. I will love my children through thick and thin. I will love them as far away from me as they ever travel both physically and spiritually. I will pray for them to find the happiness that I have found in knowing my Heavenly Father. I will most certainly celebrate with them when they do.

It’s the same exact love that God feels for all of us. Like space and eternity it is hard to comprehend. It’s beyond man’s ability to understand. It’s beyond what science can prove. It can only be of God. It is within us all and it makes itself evident as we feel and share love with our parents and children.

I thank God for the glimpse of His existence and His persona shown through His love for me and for allowing me to love others as He does. I hope that I am worthy of His love and I pray that my parents and my children will always feel my love for them, and, more importantly, that they will always feel the love of their Heavenly Father.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Home School??

Recently my wife and I made a hard decision regarding our children. It was a decision that for many years I had never even considered or had second thoughts about. Since this decision we have received many interesting reactions and some have even been so forward in their opinions that it bordered on bullying us. I thought I would share some of the things that I have learned and why we are very happy about our decisions to take our kids out of the public school system.

First, let me explain my views of the public school system. I have shared in prior blogging posts my affection for some wonderful teachers that I was blessed to have had the privilege to learn from. I have shared some of the differences that I have noticed between the ways schools are run today versus how they were run when I was a boy. Each time I have shared my opinions regarding schools and schooling I have been overwhelmed with the number of opinions and debates that are created. Personally, I like to hear others opinions and I welcome the debates. Some of the debates, however, have helped me recognize something very disturbing and it even frightens me a little. It is something that comes from the very core of what America was established upon. Freedom.

I will explain this later. First I would like to mention that I have asked a dozen people whom I know what their feelings are about what is most important in schooling their children. The answers included “to prepare them for college” or “to understand the basics” and “to get good grades” or “to have good teachers”. All of the answers had something to do with their children learning and being educated. All great answers and I would agree wholeheartedly. The most important aspect of school for my children is for them to learn as much as they can.

I then explained to these same twelve people that I had pulled my son out of school and was going to home-school him via a distance learning program and that I had also pulled my daughter out of high school and had her enrolled into college. These same people who had just agreed with me that schooling was for educating then exploded into opinions surrounding the huge mistake I was making. Their biggest area of concern was “what about their social life”.

The discussions at times became heated and I would just walk away. It’s not worth arguing about. How can anyone be concerned about my children’s social skills? My kids are happy and well adjusted. They have the ability to talk to anyone and they are very comfortable with who they are. In addition, our church provides a plethora of opportunities to socialize.

Regardless of what level my own kids’ social skills are at, the important thing that I take away is this. Why would school be the focus as to gaining social skills? Don’t get me wrong, I fully understand that kids naturally learn to associate with others in the school environment. But what are they learning? When is the last time you walked through a school hallway when classes are out and kids are all over the place? What do you see? What do you hear?

As part of my job I am required to be in schools quite often. I experience the “school” environment all of the time. It’s not the same environment that the schools I attended in the 70’s and 80’s. Girls didn’t dress like that. Kids didn’t talk like that. Kids of the same gender were not holding hands or making out in the halls. Kids did not flip off teachers and other adults. There was still some semblance of respect.

The language is the biggest eye opener. I am shocked at what I hear in a typical middle school. The words and topics I hear aren’t much different than what I would hear when I lived in California and was required to visit some of the projects or the “hood”. You hear things that would make Andrew Dice Clay proud. Every other word is the “F” word and nearly all topics are swirling around sex. Not to mention the amount of bullying that runs rampant in the schools even with all the stop bullying campaigns. I was absolutely floored a couple of days ago when a young woman of about 15 or 16 years old walked by me, in the halls of one of the Meridian, ID high schools, wearing a t-shirt that said "ADMIT IT: You'd Go To Jail For This".

This is the “social” life we are expected to use to teach our kids? Seems to me that we need to rethink what environment our kids are learning their social skills. If that’s how it is in the home too, then I can see why there would be no concern for what kids are experiencing at school.

To me, public school is one of the last places I want my kids to experience from a social aspect. Then there is the classroom aspect. This is where all that “learning” is supposed to be taking place. I also have a lot of concerns in this area.

First, statistics show that the United States has fallen well behind. Once atop all of the rankings, we now find our country mired in mediocrity at best. Currently, according to Pearson, in the “cognitive skills and educ
ational attainment” category, the U.S. ranks 14th. We are well behind the likes of South Korea, Japan, Finland, the UK, Canada and Poland to name a few. In the literacy category, we rank 24th. In Science we fell to 27th. In math we are a disappointing 35th.

How have we fallen so far from the top? The government has increased spending on education tremendously but it continues to produce negative results. They’ve tried different policies like “No Child Left Behind” which was a total failure. I think the premise to make sure that every child made it is good. The implementation and process of the program however, was a complete disaster.

Do you remember watching Little House on the Prairie? Remember the way the children were schooled? All of them met in a single classroom regardless of age or education level. There was no segregation of classes. Why did this all change? Who made that happen? It wasn’t done because of poor education levels because the United States dominated at the top all the way into the 1950’s and 60’s.

Some key factors that I see in the fall of our country in education; First, the federal government. Before the federal government began regulating the public school system all was well. The classroom environment was better. Though we may not understand it, the single classroom worked for a number of reasons. It allowed interaction between older and younger students. Older students often helped the younger students. Younger students had older mentors to look up to.

Second, teachers were also better. Now don’t get me wrong we have some amazing teachers still today, my lovely wife being one of them. What sets the teachers of the past apart from today is the freedoms that they had in teaching. Teachers were not hired by school officials, but rather by the communities in which they were teaching. They were held accountable by the parents and the towns. Discipline was administered by the teachers. Students were held accountable.

Today’s teachers are in a completely different environment. The bad ones are not held accountable and therefor do not care for the students or the progress or lack thereof. The good teachers are shackled by so many regulations and programs that they cannot show what they are capable of. They cannot truly adjust their direction based on the real needs of their students, individually or as a whole. The no child left behind program sounded great. But it put all the focus on the lower level students and kept the students who were already at the level or above, held back in their learning.

The government did finally recognize this error and so is now implementing “Common Core”. I don’t really want to get to deep into this as I feel there is good and bad in this program as well. The good comes from the higher standard that students are required to achieve now. The bad comes from some of the content being taught or the lack thereof. But that is another debate. All in all, I do not see this making a major improvement in our country’s overall performance because history has shown that the federal government doesn’t have the ability to do so. And it will cost the taxpayers more billions of dollars to experience more failure.

I mentioned earlier that there was something that frightened me. Well, the one factor that I haven’t mentioned yet that has the biggest impact on the failure of our education system is the reason that we made the change with our own children. We are the factor. The parents of students have the biggest impact. The scary thing in public schools is how the school has slowly become a “day care” center instead of a “learning” center.

So many parents fail to take part in the learning progress of their children once they have dropped them off for their first day of 1st grade. Most parents never attend the parent teachers’ conferences. Most parents never discipline their child for bad grades or missing assignments. Most parents do not even know what their children are being taught. Most parents do not get involved in the voting process for the local school boards. Most parents do not even know who sits on the board.
These same parents try to hold the teachers accountable for everything. They send scathing emails to teachers or call them and berate them or call the principal and complain. As if the teachers have the time and ability to sit with each individual child and make sure they are doing their work and understand the work.

Combining students that aren't held accountable with parents who are not involved and the results should be expected. Most of the successful students in today’s schools have parents that know what is going on, have a relationship with the student and the teacher, and hold their children accountable for their actions.

So what is my fear and what does it have to do with freedom?

I fear that the government has taken too much control in our school system and the regulations take away our freedom to choose what is being taught and how.

I fear that the social life that our children are exposed to takes away my freedom to protect them. My children are not allowed into a rated “R” movie yet they experience beyond rated “R” in the very schools that we are sending them to.

I fear that the majority of people do not get involved with their kids and it is going to affect their freedoms later in life. Education is vital to keeping our country free. It helps us control our government rather than the other way around. It helps us stay atop innovation which creates dreamers and jobs and wealth. It helps us understand our history and what made us great as a nation. It keeps us from making the same mistakes again.

I am choosing to be involved in my children’s’ education. I am choosing to show them other social skills. I am choosing to teach them respect for others and the importance of education. I am choosing to monitor the content of the learning. I am choosing to make sure they are learning at an acceptable pace. I am choosing to invest in their well-being.

Once my children have achieved what the “public schools” consider completion of high school education then I will choose to place them in higher education or help them enter into work programs.  If this happens when they are 18, great. If it happens when they are 15 or 16, super.
At the end of the day, we all agree that school is for learning. It’s not really for social skill building. So if you take this into account, perhaps you will be more understanding of our decision. This was not an easy decision. I didn’t think there was a better way. I didn’t think we had the resources to make it happen. It’s been some sacrifice, but it has been worth it.

Just like it was worth it for the parents or Thomas Edison, Asel Adams, Susan B. Anthony, Alexander Graham Bell, Pearl S. Buck, Robert Frost, Blake Griffin, Taylor Swift, Tim Tebow, Albert Einstein, Benjamin Franklin, Ray Kroc, Colonel Harland Sanders, Dave Thomas, and 14 other men who became President of the United States, just to name a few.




It is not the path for everyone and I would never fault anyone for leaving their kids in the public school system. My wife teaches in public school. Regardless of where you choose to educate your children, I would hope that you would, as a parent, be as involved as much as possible. It will make all the difference in the success of your child. The more success they have under your tutelage will provide them with more freedom later. Freedom to become whatever and whomever they desire to become. Great leaders, doctors, lawyers, scientists, teachers, etc. Most importantly great parents to raise the next generation of greatness.

Monday, December 29, 2014

My Favorite Teachers

     For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that my childhood was spent moving around from town to town resulting in attending many schools. There were good and bad aspects to all the moving around. I sometimes wish that I had experienced more stability in my youth. Yet at the same time I am thankful for the many experiences that came with moving so much and for the many friends that I made along the way.

     One of the downfalls was that I didn't become a very good student along the way. I never put my best effort into my studies. I always did well in school mainly because I was not really challenged. I don't think of myself as overly intelligent but I know that if I had truly applied myself I could have excelled. I suppose knowing that I would not be around long caused me to think I didn't need to give too much heed to my teachers.

     Don't get me wrong, I didn't rebel or anything. I wasn't disruptive and I didn't skip classes. I was always in attendance and I paid attention. But the homework was never a great priority. I did what I wanted to and it was always just enough. Always finished with about a 'B' in most classes. This kept me out of trouble with teachers and administrators. My parents never seemed too interested in what was going on unless there was a really bad grade so I didn't have to deal with that at home either.

    Every once in a while there was a teacher that I really liked or that challenged me somehow to apply myself without even knowing they were doing it. Liking a teacher is half of the battle, in my opinion. You put a pretty young teacher in front of a class who has a nice smile and a friendly personality and all the students, including the boys, will likely pay more attention. I had a teacher like that once in 4th grade at Homedale Elementary School. Ms. Neubauer. She was one of the nicest teachers I ever had. She was also the only one that I think I might have had a crush on too. Ok, there is no "might have". I definitely had a crush on Ms. Neubauer. I am sure I wasn't the only one. Her pretty blonde hair and blue eyes had captured the eye of every 4th grade boy in school.

     Ms. Neubauer's class was so fun. I remember always doing my best in her class. I know that I always wanted to impress her and there was nothing like getting praise in front of the class with her arm around your shoulder.

     Another teacher that seemed to bring out the best in me was Mrs. West in 2nd grade at Syringa Elementary in Pocatello. Mrs. West was amazing. Her class was so fun and she always made everyone in the class feel special. She used to show us her photographic memory and her speed reading skills. She seemed to know everything. We could ask her questions about anyone or anything and she could tell us all about it.

     Some teachers that I had, or should I say most of the teachers that I had were boring and uninteresting. I would fall asleep in some classes or lose myself in my imagination until the bell rang. I would dread going to these classes. Even if the subject might be of interest to me I just couldn't learn in that environment. Very few of the teachers brought an element of intrigue that would make us ask questions and want to know more.

    After I first moved back to Pocatello during my 7th grade year, one of the required classes at Alameda Jr. High that I was signed up for was Self-Esteem. I had never heard of a self-esteem class. Sounded weird to me. I thought maybe there were a bunch of odd kids with different challenges that would be in the class. Surprisingly I was wrong. Everyone in the class was just like me as far as I could tell. The teacher was Mr. Anderson. He was a tall and fairly good sized man. I was a little intimidated at first.

    The first day in Mr. Anderson's class he presented us with a scenario and an activity that to this day is the most memorable moment of my adolescent learning. Mr. Anderson provided our class with the most thought provoking lesson that took every student to the edge of their seat and fully interested and engaged in the activity.  He began by handing out a sheet of paper to each of the students. On the paper we found a person's name and below it an occupation, age, skill set, and health background. All of the girl students received a girl's character and all the boy's received a man's character. The character's ages ranged from young teens, about our age, to advanced elderly ages up in the 80's.

    Occupations ranged from dancers, teachers and professors to doctors, mechanics and farmers. Most of the characters were given a clean bill of health with a few exceptions like one of them had cancer.

     The activity we were given involved a great deal of thought and emotion. Mr. Anderson told us that there was one week left on earth before a nuclear explosion would cause life as we knew it to end. The local government had put a plan together that included the construction of a huge vault in the side of a mountain. This vault was built to withstand any nuclear type explosion and would keep any radiation out. It was made to sustain life for 1 year until the radiation levels had returned to normal on the outside. Inside the vault was food, water, tools, medicine and other necessities to sustain life for one year.

     The kicker was that the vault would only sustain life for 12 individuals. There were a total of 26 students in the class. For the next week we would be debating over which 12 of the 26 students would be allowed to enter into the vault. The rest would parish in the nuclear aftermath.

     For a bunch of 12 year-old 7th graders, this was quite the undertaking. Over the week that followed we would experience much turmoil and a roller-coaster of emotions as we considered our decisions.  It was amazing to see my classmates take their characters to heart and fight for the right to survive. Many discussions became heated as it seemed every argument to save someone was countered with a convincing reason not to.

     I was among a few of the boys who tried to be valiant heroes and volunteered to stay behind. But even we were argued about by those who saw the importance of our strength and abilities.

     It was amazing to see what became important over the week. Slowly we began to agree more and more and whittled our numbers down to the 12 we sought. The importance of procreation, trade skills, physical abilities and knowledge were all evaluated equally.

     On the final day there were tears shed as the final 12 were sent out of the classroom to "enter the vault". The other 14 stayed behind and the room was heavy with emotion. It was a life altering activity. We all came away with a better appreciation of the importance of all human life and for the importance of both genders and all occupations.

    As hard as it was, I loved that activity and I love Mr. Anderson for allowing us to share in that experience. It definitely improved my self-esteem.

    Today I get to spend my life with my favorite teacher of all times. She is my wife and she is one of the best teachers around. I think she has all of the things that caused me to want to learn by my favorite teachers. She is a knockout that I am sure all the 6th grade boys at Heritage Elementary School are eager to do their best for. She has the friendly personality that all the kids love and react to. She is willing to challenge them and allow them to think for themselves in ways that will impact their lives long term.

    I am thankful for the many teachers out there who do everything they can to inspire our children today. Especially those who can do it despite the government chains that bind them down and choke out their greatest strengths. It is you who will allow this great country to remain at the top led by those who were inspired in your classrooms.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

To Spank or Not to Spank, That is the Question

Here is a topic that seems to really get some people fired up. Should we or should we not spank our kids? With all of the opinions surrounding Minnesota Viking’s running back, Adrian Peterson, it is something that I felt could use some discussion.

For those of you not familiar with Mr. Peterson’s situation, let me briefly break it down for you.

On May 18, 2014 Peterson disciplined his son after the boy pushed another one of Peterson's sons off of a motorbike video game. The Vikings running back used a switch (a thin branch or rod used for whipping) to discipline his child, resulting in bruises and lacerations on the boy's back, legs, arms and buttocks.

After the boy returns home to his mother in Minnesota, the bruises are discovered during a routine doctor's visit. The doctor says the injuries are consistent with child abuse.

Peterson did not deny anything and faced punishment from the NFL and later the criminal justice system. The latter of which he plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge. He remains suspended from the NFL.

Peterson claimed he was “disciplining” his child the way he himself was raised. He admitted that he had gone too far and never meant to harm his child in that way.

Now I don’t want to dive too deep into this situation but it does raise the question as to what discipline is acceptable and what is not. Obviously when there are lacerations and bruises, it falls into the not acceptable.

I have been listening to many debates over this on talk radio and sports talk radio. One commentator mentioned the differences in the part of the country that a person is raised which seems to make harsher discipline acceptable and normal. A person raised in the south like Alabama, Arkansas, Mississippi and other nearby areas are more likely to discipline their children more firmly using paddles, switches, etc. People in these areas have no problem seeing their neighbors disciplining their child in this manner.

However when you analyze people on the west coast or in the northeast you will find that it is absolutely forbidden to lay a hand on a child in any way.

So is one way better than the other? Is disciplining your child physically outdated and should it be removed from today’s society?
Let me offer my two cents and see if where you agree or disagree. (And I welcome all viewpoints.)

When I was growing up I remember spankings being pretty common. When one of my siblings or I had done something wrong we grew to expect a swat on our behind. Usually this involved the palm of one of my parent’s hands. On occasion a willow tree branch, pizza paddle, wooden spoon or hair brush was used.

My Grandma preferred a nice big pizza paddle. My brother’s and I used to do things just to see how fast she could acquire it from the kitchen. She would have us line up and bend over the sofa and she would take her best baseball swing. It hurt for a moment but usually the paddle would end up breaking and we would try to not let her see us laughing.

Once while my little brother Michael and I were jumping on the aforementioned sofa, my Grandpa was next to us rocking in his chair and reading the paper. He looked at us and gave us a warning. “You better stop before your Grandma sees you.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice that I had never heard before.  Before we could respond we heard the familiar sound of the paddle being lifted off of the hook in the kitchen. By the time we had jumped ourselves off of the couch, Grandma was making a b-line towards us with the paddle clenched in her hand.

Something was different this time. I couldn't quite figure out what it was. “Line up you little hellions!” she ordered. We assumed the position bent over exposing our derrieres. “You will stop jumping on my furniture!” she announced and took her best swing.

“WHAP!” I can’t explain the horror that I felt as I realized that something was different and was definitely not in my favor. By the time the pain seared throughout my backside a second swat was delivered. How had Grandma gotten so strong? How did that paddle not break? Before the thoughts were finished in my head I heard the sound of the paddle cracking against Michael’s own rear. I turned to watch as she took her second swing on him.
I quickly realized what had happened. Grandpa, always letting us do whatever we wanted, had gone and provided Grandma with a new weapon. I looked at him and he gave me a half smile that had “I warned you” all over it. I looked back at the paddle. Genius. Grandpa had drilled holes throughout the paddle face. Now the air passed through it as it was waved towards its target. A much faster, much harder impact was created.
Grandma stood over us with a smile, triumphant and gladiator like. I never jumped on her furniture again.

Now my mom had a whole other technique. Being inflicted with the horrible disease, Rheumatoid Arthritis, she was usually unable to inflict any physical punishment. Her hands were weak and her elbow joints were slowly freezing up. She was creative though and found that she could work a wig brush like the best of them. (I guess I was assuming there was some sort of wig brush competitions.)

Mom would take the wig brush, the type with the wire tines, and turn it so that the tine side was coming at us. Let me tell you, if you take a couple of those on the top of the head, you will stop doing whatever it is you’re not supposed to!

Dad, on the other hand, was a belt guy. Very effective as well. He was borderline professional in the way he could unlatch it and remove it from his waist. I swear that sometimes I would see his hands hit the latch and before I had fully turned to run I was already growing a welt on the back of a thigh.

When we were camping the belt usually stayed in place. Dad would pick out a nice willow or alder branch. We typically didn't get into much trouble camping as we didn't want to see that branch do anything besides cooking a hot-dog or marshmallow over the campfire.

Personally, I was not on the receiving end of too many spankings. I tried to stay out of trouble. Especially with my Dad. He had a way of looking at me a certain way and I would melt into a pile of mush. I hated that look.

I do remember one time that Dad skipped the look with me. July 10, 1976. I remember it like it was yesterday. I had been exploring in our garage and I came across a really cool racing set for Hot Wheels cars. It had a sweet track with loops and everything. My birthday was only a few days away and I knew it was for me. So I made the brilliant decision to go ahead and open it early. I played with it all day long. My Mom was not happy and she told me that Dad would be upset. I didn't listen.

Dad came home from work late that night. We were all sound asleep. Apparently the first thing that he saw when he came inside the house was the racing set all beautifully put together in the family room. He was not happy.

The first “spank” woke me and nearly killed me. It wasn't all that hard but my heart nearly stopped. By the third swat I was quite aware of my surroundings but it wasn't until the fifth or sixth that I grasped what was happening.  As tears flowed down my face and my posterior was searing I realized he had stopped. I looked at him through the blur in my tears. There I saw the look and it hurt more than any of the spankings.

I tell some people these stories and they laugh. I laugh too. I find humor in the mischief that I caused and in the way my parents tried to discourage my actions. Other people are horrified and saddened at the “abuse” that I received.

Now that I have been a parent for 19 years I have a different perspective. I see my children misbehave and now I have to figure out the best ways to discipline them. I admit that I have spanked my kids. I've never used a foreign object but I have threatened it for sure. The belt has been very effective for me. Never once came in contact with my kids but as I have removed it from my waist as quick as my Dad before me, I fold it over and grabbing both ends snap it together creating a loud cracking sound. My kids were so scared of the sound that I never had to follow through with the threat.

I have mastered my Dad’s famous look too. I love using that. There is something very satisfactory in looking at my child and seeing them realize the mistake they made and the disappointment they created.

I often would ask my kids “Who wants a beating?” and they would all in unison yell “Me, me, I do!” Mainly because my beatings consisted of tossing them around on the bed or among pillows and then tickling the laugh out of them. I used to get nervous that one of them would tell one of their friends at school about out their Dad “beats” them and I would be getting a call from social services!
So what is my opinion? I think parents should have the right to discipline how they see fit as long as there is no real harm inflicted on the child. In today’s society, I feel, there is a lack of discipline and accountability for today’s youth. I believe this has led to children being more and more disrespectful to parents, teachers and other authority figures.

I hear the stories my wife tells me about students at the schools she has taught in and the things that they would say to her. I cannot imagine what would have happened to me or one of my classmates had we said the things they say. Early in my school years teachers were still sporting paddles and yardsticks at the front of the classroom. Teachers would swat a kid or crack them across the knuckles right in front of the rest of the students in class. And you definitely didn't want to get sent to the principal’s office!

I’m not saying we should revert back to those days but there was something to be said for the discipline then. I don’t remember there being too many individuals getting out of line.
If there is no punishment or accountability for the crime then there is no reason for a child to think that there is anything wrong with what they are doing.

Even in sports and other activities that we encourage our kids to participate in has changed. Today a child receives a reward for just participating. Doesn't matter whether they win or lose. I don’t understand this at all. This is not how it works in the real world. Unless you join one of the many outdated unions. Today if you are not trying your best to succeed and produce then you are not going to have a job. Unless of course you count the government welfare system but don’t get me started on that.

I went to my daughter’s basketball game the other night and the announcer told everyone that they could not use any artificial noise makers. I thought that was a bit strange but then during the game as I tried to yell during the opposing team’s free throws I was quickly chastised and looked upon like I had the plague.

What college or professional sport will you see the away team’s players shooting free throws and the entire arena is silent? Why is it different in high school?

It’s like we cannot let our children experience failure and even if they do we label it as something else.

Imagine our great country without the rule of law. Imagine how our society would fall apart if we didn't discipline those that break the law. It’s already bad enough in some places even with the law enforced. Imagine if it wasn't.

So I say discipline away. Discipline your way. Don’t hurt them but make it clear that they have made a mistake and there are consequences.

I love my kids. Even when I am punishing them. I was punished often. Yet I know my parents loved me. Not very often did I receive discipline for something when I wasn't guilty.  I jumped on the sofa. I mouthed off to my mother. I got into the racing set. Each time I was quickly dealt with. Each time I remembered the action and the consequence. I learned quickly and I sought out activities that didn't result in a spanking.

Hmmm. That is probably what my parents were trying to accomplish.