Is Pre-Kindergarten Really Necessary?

Back when my twins were going into Kindergarten there was a half step called pre-kindergarten designed for those children who fell in between age levels – as my boys did – to assist them in their social and mental development before they took on the obvious difficulties associated with full Kindergarten.  It had some advantages.  The boys, in their future school careers, would be near the oldest and most developed in their classes as opposed to being at the younger end of the spectrum.  This helped with their participation in sports, academics, social interaction, etc… or so the thought went.  Made sense.  We considered it for a while.  I, myself, was one of those kids who was at the younger end of my grade and understood what this program was designed to do.  But, I liked the fact that I graduated at 17 years old and thought of it as a head start on life.

One of the criteria that was used to help teachers decide whether or not to recommend pre-kindergarten to parents was whether or not a child could read some basic words.  After analyzing several of the other factors used to make the decision, this was the pivotal piece of the puzzle that one of the teachers was advocating as to why our children, in particular, needed to spend a year in pre-kindergarten so that they could prepare to spend a year playing with other children in Kindergarten.  This discussion went on for several weeks between me, my wife, two teachers, and a principal.  At this point we were standing inside the school’s hallway talking one last time with the teacher before we made our final decision.  My oldest son Jack (4) had accompanied us and was running up and down the hallway happily observing all of the Kindergartner’s drawing which were posted in the hallway.

The teacher continued once more about how important an early start in reading really is.  We agreed, but we thought that our twins were pretty average four year olds and, even if they needed some help learning to read, well, isn’t that what Kindergarten was for?

We continued to debate for a while, we wanted to make the right decision, but we needed a convincing argument one way or the other.  We were truly on the fence on the issue.

Just then, Jack read the word “pull.”

On or way out of the door, following all of the other children evacuating the building for the fire alarm, I proclaimed to the teacher, “looks like Jack can read the word ‘pull’ just fine, I think we’ll go with Kindergarten this year and skip pre-kindergarten.”

Poor Jack turned a little white and asked, “can we go home now?”

We’ve never regretted our decision.  All four of my boys were considered “in between ages” for their grade level.  All of them skipped this pre-kindergarten step.  All of them are 3.7 GPA level students or higher, all of them participate in sports and do well – Alec, is being looked at for a scholarship in swimming, and all of them play a musical instrument – three of them play rock and roll music in local bars and restaurants regularly.   Take a look …     https://theamateurastrophysicist.wordpress.com/2012/06/08/my-three-older-boys-band-gang-greene/

Pre-kindergarten may have its place for some, but for us it seems to have been pushed a bit too hard.

Bullies: How Much Do You Really Know?

I have had a disturbing bit of post-comment-reply interaction with another blogger of late.  In his opinion the problem of bullying in schools in this country is somewhat overstated and over-punished, too.  I thought that it might be appropriate for me to relate to some of you my experiences in this arena.

I know that there are a lot of people that are under the impression that the vast majority of bullying is verbal and that those who receive this abuse should just shake it off and get on with their lives and all of that kind of shit.  Believe me, you are sadly mistaken.  You underestimate the effects on the psyche of those who are being bullied by an unimaginable margin.  If impressionable teenagers committing suicide or retaliating against their abusers by bringing guns to school surprises you, then you are out of touch with this issue.

In my four years in high school I was bullied by numerous individuals in the following ways:

–  I was punched in the face, arms, back, chest and stomach on multiple occasions and always without cause

–  Someone attempted to kick me down the stairs – again nothing had transpired prior to the attempt

–  I was kicked in the ass for no apparent reason – multiple times over the years

–  Snapping me with towels in the locker room and leaving deep welts on me was a favorite passtime

–  Bullies liked to knock my books and homework out of my hands and down the hallway – dozens of others would join in at that point and continue kicking these items down the hallway

–  I have been spit on several times

–  I have had a thumb tack placed on my seat and a bully attempt to push me down on it

–  I have had crude signs taped to my back

–  People I have never met in my life liked to yell, “hey faggot!” at me

–  One time somebody busted out the window in my car in the school parking lot

Oh, yeah, there’s more!  But I think you get the message.  Think to yourself, are your kids doing this shit to other kids?  I can guarantee that for some of you the answer is yes.  There were just too many different kids that did this stuff to me for the answer to be no.  Do you care?  Are you to busy to handle it?  Have you tried to handle it but got no results?  Try again!  I promise that this treatment is messing up someone’s life.  These memories have left a lifelong impression on me – I graduated more than 25 years ago!  I have had to have years of therapy and anger management to deal with them.

And, you want to know what?  I was thankful to be one of the lucky few who didn’t get the worst of it.  Honestly!

http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Was-A-Bully-In-High-School/1267582  Check out this post.

Bullying is not even close to being addressed in this country.  We need federal laws with minimum punishments that deal with these actions and the people who commit them – whatever their age.  Bullying should be a crime worse than domestic violence is.  If we addressed it that way then, I believe, other violent crimes would be averted – “nipped in the bud,” as it were.

Look.  I’m the parent of four boys.  Some of the things they tell me that other kids in their school say and do are abhorrent.  The way they are treating other students merits harsh discipline.  But their parents are either unaware, don’t care, or think the problem is overstated.  How do you think any of the kids – the bullies, the bullied, or the witnesses – are going to behave as adults????

People, take this issue seriously!

If you think this issue deserves more attention and you’d like to do something about it, then start by re-blogging this post onto your site.  Let’s see if we can make this go viral!

http://www.dosomething.org/tipsandtools/11-facts-about-school-bullying

http://www.pacerteensagainstbullying.org/#/home

A Piece Of Child Rearing Advice That You Will Never Get

I take raising my four boys very seriously.  I try many approaches and find out what works and apply it liberally.  Everyone knows the basics by now that make for great children:  Love, patience, respect, guidance, acknowledgement and discipline (reasonable discipline), these all apply and many more.  But, here’s one I have discovered and I’ve never heard it mentioned by anyone before …

You have to give your kid something to dislike about you.  As a matter of fact, they can hate it.  Now, I’m not talking about becoming an alcoholic or being abusive or anything like that.  Just give them a reason to say – even out loud to you – “I’m never going to do that to my kids.”  This gives them a degree of separation from you.  It helps them to feel as though they are their own person and not your protege (which we all know that they are).  It helps them feel as though they are rebelling without it actually being harmful.

You will find your child obsessing over your behavior just enough to keep their mind occupied away from finding ways to disobey you or harm themselves with bad choices.  They will be complaining to their friends about it if you are doing it properly.

Now, remember, this is not the cure all.  You still have to have those conversations about sex and drugs and lousy friends and responsibility, etc…  But just try what I’m telling you here and watch how nicely it fits in with these conversations and managing your child’s behavior.

Here’s an example:

Without warning, tickle your child until they can’t breath (their age is not important, this works just as well with teens if you are strong enough.)  Now, let them breath – twice only.  Now, tickle them until they say that they are going to puke.  Let them breath (four times maximum) and make it appear as though you are now finished.  Resume tickling them with a vengeance, and at a torrid pace, until the image of the grim reaper appears before them, draws back his scythe and begins to swing it forward (you will know this has occurred by the change of the sound of their excited screaming to the kind of screaming that a parachutist chooses when his reserve chute turns out to be his dirty laundry and, secondly, by the sudden death throws of their body which resembles epileptic seizures.)   Now, when they look up at you with eyes that clearly have seen their short lives pass by in mere seconds you must proclaim, “isn’t this fun!”  Finally, and this is critical, give them your best “The Wizard of Oz” wicked witch of the west laugh.

Congratulations, you have now successfully placed your sanity in doubt and triggered your child’s self preservation instinct.  Your child will not find the humor in this and will find a strong desire in themselves to not witness this side of you again.  You have achieved ultimate leverage.  The mere sound of the wicked witch’s laugh from you will quickly correct any and all misbehavior.

Do this regularly and I guarantee results.

If this particular method doesn’t work for you, then you will need to find your own.  Just make sure that whatever you choose does not give them a complex about themselves and all of the blame can be associated with you (don’t complain about them.)

Now lay back and watch your kid behave – “my pretty.”

 

Mondays

You know you were tired in the morning if, when you come home at the end of the work day, you find a gallon of curdled milk in the food cupboard and a box of cereal in the refrigerator.

Ah, boy.

Remembrance

I open up the cupboard to get a coffee mug.

There are several there – clean – but with lipstick on them.

They remind me of my wife who is several days into a trip to San Francisco.

One Smart Mouth Teenager Situation Handled – One Million More To Go

So, just recently, one of my sons who is nearly 14 years old was smarting off to his mother.  Of course, I was called in as damage control officer…

 

“Hey bud, … ah … why is your mom in the other room all upset and crying?”

“She treats me like a kid, dad, always ordering me around and telling me what to do.”

“Oh.  Is that all … ?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well …, she was saying that you had said some pretty hurtful things to her.  She told me some of them and they did sound kind of mean … she does a lot of stuff for you, you know?  Maybe you should go apologize.”

“Dad, I’m nearly grown up now and I don’t need someone trying to run my life all of the time.”

“Well, I can understand that, but you really need to handle it a bit better.  She’s your mom, she loves you a lot and wants to help you make good decisions.  Show her a little more respect and appreciation.  Now come on, go apologize to her.”

“See …, now you’re telling me what to do … I’m a man now and I want to make my own decisions.”

“Well … sometimes men have to apologize son.  Trust me on this, go apologize, you’ll feel better and it will work a thousand ways in your favor in your future relationship with you mother.  OK?”

At this point my son decided to dig in his heels, “I’m a man now dad, and I’m going to make my own decision.”

So, the time had come for further clarification, “Oh…OK.  So you want me to treat you like another man and not my son?”

“Yeah.”

“Because…, I’m thinking … well,”  And this is where I laid on my best raised eyebrow/consideration look – and, I am damn good at this – and changed my voice to an ever so slightly more serious tone and said, “frankly, I wouldn’t appreciate it very much if some other man were speaking to my wife the way you just did.”

My son looked a bit concerned at this point.  He was beginning to see weakness in his argument.

I drove the point home a bit further, “as a matter of fact,” I continued looking thoughtful, “I think that it might really piss me off …”

The boy was obviously frightened now, so it was time to present him with his options.

“So, are you sure you want to go this route?  Or, would you like to go apologize to your mother – right now – and everyone can go away happy?  Either way is alright with me.  Now. How do you want to handle it?  I purposely began to look a bit irritated at this point and summarized it again for him, “just tell me right now, what do you want to do?”

“I think I should go tell mom I’m sorry.”

“Smart choice.”  I nodded my head in approval and let the look of consternation slip away, “smaaart choice.”

 

 

 

Kids And Ice Cream

My sons have a habit of getting ice creams from our basement freezer without also bringing one up for me.

So, I have developed a game whereby this process is quickly rectified.

I say, “what, you got an ice cream and you didn’t get me one, too?”

They proudly and defiantly proclaim, “yes.  I did.”  And smile mischievously.

This is where I have already maneuvered myself into position for my devious act.  I snatch their ice cream out of their hands and say, “well, since you didn’t get me one, I’ll just have yours,” and I start to make like I’m going to have a big lick of it.

“NO DAD!”

“Well,” I bargain, “if you get me one in the next 15 seconds, I won’t eat yours …”  And, as they run away toward the basement at top speed, I wait for the next play in the game – they look over their shoulder to see what I am doing.  At this point I already have the ice cream three-quarters of the way to my mouth and my tongue fully extended toward it.

“NO!”  They exclaim and come to a dead stop, then start to run back toward me.

“12, 11, 10 …” I say.

“DON’T!” They scream in agony and run back toward the basement.

Keeping my tongue one-sixteenth of an inch from their ice cream, I wait …. Yes.  Once again, they must look!  Again they stop with a look of panicked indecision on their face.  “9, 8, 7 …”, I continue.

“Aaaaaaggghhh,” they exclaim as they take two stairs at a time down into the basement, sprint to the freezer, grab the first available ice cream, run back to the stairs and attempt three at a time on the way up, then run over to me with the required prize and say “here, here.”  And, they look at me expectantly, reluctantly smiling.

I, holding their ice cream high out of reach, examine the booty suspiciously and say, “I wanted the other kind!”  They give me their best horrified look and just start to interject, but I say, “15, 14, 13 ….”

Sometimes they remember to consider me now, but other times …, it’s lesson time again!   🙂

90 Year Old Hitmen

“Here it is.  That’s the address.”

“Are you sure?  Lemme see da paper.”

“What’s a madder don’t you think I can read now?”

“You got eyeballs like a dead fish!  You get lost when you walk a block from your house.  You can’t see anything!  Now.  Give me the f#%&ing paper!

“I don’t know why I ever liked you …”

“Dis ain’t the address.  You’re reading it upside down you moron!  I told you.  Eyes like a dead fish.”

“Just get us to where we gotta go and shudup, it’s gettin’ too f#%&in’ hot out ‘ere to be arguin’.”

 

“Alright, dis is it.”

“Are you sure?”

“What d’ya mean am I sure?  ‘Course I’m sure.  I’m sure, alright?!”

“Well, I’m tired now and I gotta sh%t.”

“Oh.  So you’re tired now and you gotta go sh%t, huh?  Well, you can sleep when you die!  And, if you gotta sh%t, then sh%t you pants.  We’ve gotta a job to do and we’re doing it.”

“Where’s the picture of the guy?”

“What picture?!  If I showed you a picture of your own mother you would think it was Santie Claus!  Just do what I do.”

“You know, fifty years ago I’d have kicked you ass for that?!”

“Fifty schmifty.  Shuddup now and let me think.”

 

“Ah, crap!  The guy lives up on the eighth floor!”

“Well, I’m not climbing up seven flights of steps just to blow some ass#ole’s head off!”

“You seem to be forgettin’ about the 50 Grand!”

“I’m not forgettin’ but half of 50 Grand means nothin’ if I’m dead from a heart attack.  I ain’t doin’ it!  And, I need to sh%t.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll figure something out … ”

“What about if we just buzz him and tell him he’s got a package and to come down and get it?  Then, when he gets here, we blow his head off, go across the street to the diner so I can take a sh%t, go get our money and we’re home with the grand kids by lunch.  Sound good?”

“Naw, we can’t do that.”

“Why not?  It sounds like a perfect plan to me.”

“Naw, look at the beautiful decor in this entryway.  I’ve got an aversion to messing up decor like this, it takes a long time to put something like this together.  Before I was a hitman I was a finish carpenter so I have a bit of an appreciation for aesthetics let’s say.  Brains and skull fragments have a tendency to discolor woodwork, not to mention what blood does to expensive wall paper like this.”

“Well, you better come up with something quick or we’ll just have to come back later.  I’ve gotta sh%t, and I’ve gotta do it soon.  Besides, I don’t want this to take all day, my great grandson is getting christened at 3:00 and I’m not missing it.  And, also, I need that money so I got something to put in his card.”

“Alright look, how old is this ass#ole again?

“Boss says he’s 25.”

“OK, so what would a 25 year old drug dealing ass#hole be driving?”

“Yeah, good point.  Let’s go back outside and have a look around.”

 

“This has gotta be it.  Look how gaudy this thing looks.  Someone should make a fish tank outta this thing and park it in a Las Vegas casino.”

“Yeah.  This guy deserves to have his brains blown out just for driving around in this freakin’ thing.  Ha ha ha!  Ass#ole!”

“Alright, here’s the plan.  We start beating on the car with these baseball bats …”

“Where did those come from?”

“What …?”

“Those baseball bats, where did they come from?  They weren’t here a minute ago.”

“This is a fictional story you jackass, things appear when you need them … Nevermind, stay focused, I’m talking here…”

“I REALLY gotta sh%t!”

“Look, this will be all over soon.  Now, just listen up.  You can sh%t REAL soon, OK?  Now, let’s start beating on this car with the baseball bats, the alarm will go off, the guy will look out of his window, freak out, come running down the stairs and out into the street, and when he gets over here, we blow his head off.  Then, you can go sh%t over there at the diner, we’ll go get our money and you can have a good afternoon at the christening.  Sound good?”

“Alright, let’s do this.”

 

(From the eighth floor window)

“Hey you old F#CKS!  What the hell are you doing to my car???”

“It’s working!  Beat it harder!”

“Hey!  There’s a bunch of people video taping us with their phones!!”

“Stay focused!  He’s coming!”

“He better get here soon, I’m gettin’ tired!”

“Here he comes, get your gun out!”

“Which one is he?!?”

“Right there, blow his head off!  Hurry up and quit f#%&ing around!”

(Bang, bang, bang, bang, noises of crowd screaming and running for cover)

 

“Oh, that was epic!  I do love this business!  Alright, we can go over to the diner now, … whoa!  What the hell happened over here?!”

“Yeah.  I don’t need to go to the diner anymore now, too much excitement and all.  Let’s just go on home.”

“Whew!  You walk downwind of me!”

“Sorry.”

“Forget about it.  Just stay downwind.”

 

(Later, at the christening)

Kid with iphone, “look, Gramps is on the internet!  And, he has 175,000 views in just four hours!”

“Whoa!  Nice hit Gramps!  Look at that brain splatter pattern!”

“Nice one dad, you are awesome!”

“You still got it, you big teddy bear!”

“Thanks everyone, I may be 90 but don’t count me out yet!  He he he.  Now, I got 50 bucks for everyone who gives me a kiss, get in line.  I love you, and I love you, and I love you.  What a great family I got…”

“Hey Gramps, why is uncle Louie walking ahead of you at the end of this video?”

“Well, let’s just say that there are some things about your old Grandfather that you are better off not knowing.  Now, who didn’t get their 50 bucks yet? Anyone wanna hold my gun?”

 

 

 

Writer’s Block

It seems I’ve run into a bit of a writer’s block …, actually it may be more of a writer’s super massive black hole.

I mean, I’ve had some ideas and all, but just no motivation to develop them.  They just want to sit there staring back at me like the dozens of rolls of 35 mm film that I never bothered to get developed from 20 years ago.  I start writing something, get about a paragraph of it done, then it looks back at me, frowns, gives me the finger and then I delete it out of spite.

It’s strange because I can think of a lot of things to talk about – just not what to say about them.  Like, for example, I’m sitting here in my underwear while writing this post.  Now, ordinarily, I’d find some humor in that to share but, just now, I’m thinking that very few of us bother to wear our Sunday best when posting to their blogs.  I bet there are even a few of you out there happily reading away naked, probably even tempting fate sipping away on some hot beverage – good luck with that.

My kids are running around screaming their heads off just now, too.  But, alas, we have already spoken of those things.  Cats – well, you know how I feel there – I can only imagine using my eye lasers on them so many times before my games of “cat terminator” must be retired.  Work?  Really?   It’s Friday night, who wants to talk about work?

I was thinking I could write on a good controversial topic and piss off a bunch of people.  But, then I’d have to write a bunch of long winded responses to all of the hate comments and I just don’t like to type that much.  I mean, pissed off people are downright funny and I could probably get some good material from that, but it’s just too much effort.

I have been visiting all of your blogs though.  Happily reading along and posting comments where there was an nice inappropriate spot to do so, trying all the while to miss the point entirely – it’s just how I roll.  So many of you are such good writers and thinkers that it makes me feel inadequate, so I have to do something to save my ego.

… I just stared at my fish tank for about five minutes.  I’ve concluded that there isn’t a damn thing funny about fish.  Now, if fish wore underwear … , boxers in particular.  Maybe with pictures of naked humans on them.  That could be amusing, maybe.

You know, it’s too bad that I can’t have like three or four wives.  Can you imagine the limitless opportunities for humorous situations that could arise from that?  All of us living in a single wide trailer home with about 15 kids, and always running out of toilet paper – that’d be great.

… Somebody was sleeping in my bed while I was at work today.  I climbed in to get a nice after work nap in and it was full of dirt.  That feeling can only be surpassed by one other – stepping barefoot into a fresh pile of poop in your carpet in the dark.  Puke is a good variation on this theme too – especially if it is still warm (frickin’ cats)

Why do people leave a toilet plugged up and sneak away?

I’m glad we don’t own things like motorcycles, boats and snow throwers and whatnot.  I know people who spend their whole weekends servicing and repairing motorized equipment.  What a waste of time.  I love laying around taking naps until I’m tired of sleeping, then sleeping some more until I’m not tired anymore.  There’s nothing more underrated than sleep.

Sex …, well, never mind.

I was watching this show – something like “nineteen kids and counting” – I really can’t see a better excuse for a forced castration of a non-criminal than people who can’t control their breeding on their own.  I mean seriously, only insects have that many offspring.

There’s this 69 year old guy at work who has the weirdest breath I’ve ever smelled.  It’s not exactly bad, it’s really weird.  It’s like he was a synthetic being who used to be a washing machine that someone threw out because someone washed clothes from a chemical factory in.  He leaves a trail of this smell for dozens of feet behind him when he walks around.

Hang on …  Ah, my kid’s crying because his brothers are hitting him with water balloons – he’s standing there in nothing but a bathing suit (doesn’t understand the irony of it at all)  just crying away and wants me to do something about it … Guess I better go …, talk to you soon.

My Three Older Boys’ Band – Gang Greene

I thought some of you might enjoy watching my three older boys playing some great rock music.

On the bass and singing – 11 year old Nicholas Greene

On the lead guitar – 13 year old Jack Greene

On the drums – 13 year old Alec Greene

 

Click on the links below, sit back and rock!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fBypmJBzMs  Gang Greene (my three boys) playing “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kClBeiW1q8  Gang Greene playing “Fire” by Jimi Hendrix

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrczYJIbXVw  Gang Greene live playing “Bring it on Home” by Led Zeppelin

 

The kids have rocked out numerous bars since these videos were published and they now have four originals as well.  A CD will be out soon – just sold locally right now – we have high hopes…