That Fall Feeling

The other day we had typical post-Labor Day weather.  Dreary, cool, with light to heavy rain coming in waves.  Depressing.

Until about 10 years ago, this weather, at this time of the year, would affect me greatly.  Probably from my early childhood until well into my 50s I would feel sick to my stomach and feel utterly depressed.  Certainly not so depressed that I would do something regrettable, but depressed to the point where I’d mope around the house.  Believe it or not I’d often experience a loss of appetite.

I no longer get these feelings.  After living with them for decades I finally figured out what triggered them and that knowledge is what cured them.

What caused them?  To me, this September weather signaled a return to school.

For 18 years of education, I hated school. 

My hatred started early.  In first grade my neighbor Jeff Morrow and I played hooky.  Yup, hooky.  Jeff was a “big kid” - a second grader who lived down the street.  For five days we’d leave for school and meet at the church at the end of my street where we’d camp out in the front vestibule until it was time to go home.  One can only wonder what two six- and seven-year-old kids did for the whole day while sitting in a 5 x 8 unheated outer lobby.  But we pulled it off for five days and only got caught when the principal called my mom to see how I was recovering from malaria or whatever she thought I had.

There were many reasons for my intense dislike of school: mostly boredom but also bullying the fat kid (me) were the two biggies.  I had friends – making friends was never a problem for me – but with rare exception my friends didn’t define or control my life.  In many ways I was a loner.

I was told that I should have been an above average student but I never worked for better grades.  Why bust my hump to get an “A” when a “C” got me just as far with a lot less work?  I never studied, relying on my memory of the class material, my limited intelligence and luck.

I graduated high school as a solid C to C+ student and never looked back.  College was the same.  I even got halfway to an MBA but just couldn’t put up with the drudgery of school any longer.

I’ve never gone to any of my high school reunions.  Why go back to see people that made my life miserable 50 years ago?

Many people looked to their school days with fond memories.  They talk lovingly of teachers they adored.  Not me.  If I put my mind to it, I could probably count the teachers whose names I remember on one hand, two at most.  There was Ms. Segal, a large woman who taught 6th grade social studies and English, who hated me and made my life a living hell.  And plump Mrs. Fatz (yes, her real name) my kindergarten teacher who sat me at “the green table” at least once a day for misbehaving. 

That said, I do fondly remember Mr. Lee (10th grade geometry) who sent me to the principal’s office for throwing a pencil.  Apparently somewhere the prior year a teacher was fired because some kid lost an eye and, on the first day in class, Mr. Lee told us what the punishment would be.  Months later I tossed a pencil to a friend who was unprepared for a pop quiz and I got tossed out of class.  I’ll never forget Mr. Lee.

I did have a couple of good college professors.  My favorite was Mr. Pierce who taught junior finance.  When we’d ask where he worked before teaching, the answer was the same every time and always spoken with a Main-line Philadelphia clenched jaw: “Why I worked for THE company!” (DuPont.)  In Mr. Pierce’s class you were either a “star” or a “dud.”   Get the answer right: “Mr. Hardy, you’re a star.  A wrong answer got: “Mr. Jones, you’re a dud.”  In Mr. Pierce’s class I was almost always a star.

Maybe I’m like a lot of kids.  But I wonder how many others were traumatized enough by school that it affected them for another 30+ years?  Probably bunches.

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“When you want to help people, you tell them the truth.  When you want to help yourself, you tell them what they want them to hear.”

-  Thomas Sowell

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You Just Can’t Believe Your Own Eyes

It’s a well-known fact that the food we see in advertisements is fake.  Do you really think a Big Mac looks that good?  Me neither.

Fake food for display is a big deal in Japan.  Here are two videos that demonstrate making fake food.  (You can turn down the volume if you wish.)

Fake Display Cabbage

Fake Sausage for Pizza

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