Teaching Zach

Bob and I pulled our kid from public school. Things weren't working out in 1st grade, and by Christmas Break, it was a disaster.

The principal wanted him to attend a special-ed campus, the classroom aides were ineffectual and inattentive, and we got the feeling his teacher did not want him in her class. I can't even imagine how that affected Zach's self-esteem, but the dismal outlook on his academic progress prompted us to act.

We submitted letters of withdrawal to the school, and got into home school social groups. It was hard for us to say goodbye, but we had to keep it on the downlow, as school districts can file lawsuits against families for doing this.

So far, the pull-out has worked well. Zach is back on the tracks with reading, and this was our biggest concern. Just not having him around 29 other children has realized remarkable gains—he's on-task most of the time. He actually gets work done.

What's incredible, is our social encounters with other children have been positive. Instead of these gangs of kids on the playground at public school, everyone's parent is there. "Your kid has a problem? Let's solve it."

I remember public school recesses could be quite brutal. Kids would say and do emotionally-destructive things to their "friends" as early as 1st or 2nd grade. The playground monitors really couldn't do much, unless somebody complained or if parents later complained. I witnessed Zach joining a gang the moment he hit the playground asphalt. It was a literal descent into Lord of the Flies because even the most level-headed kids will be aggressive toward others when in their tribes.

NPR radio hour once described this as relational aggression, which isn't always necessarily bullying, but more like group-bonding in a very negative sense that excludes other children from play or relationships with the group. It can also be bullying by every definition and can have a terrible impact on victims' social functionality and self-esteem.

Zach, sadly, did not have the tools to function well in these groups and was constantly getting reprimanded by nearly every adult around him. His sense said, Stop, but his impulse said, Go. Without a functional student aide with him, he couldn't function, and we knew this was only a patch to the bigger problem. The problem wasn't just him.

There is a tendency for some children to exhibit transient sociopathic behaviors without it being immediately identified. Some kids are excellent at hiding these behaviors, much like Rhoda in the Bad Seed. "Sociopath" is not really an accurate description, as either you're constantly a sociopath or you're not under the DSM-V guidebook. Nevertheless, some children can be these reserved calculating monsters that know how to push buttons to get your kid to blow up, then watch the discipline show afterwards. It's entertaining for them.

If we can keep our train on the tracks with home schooling, I think Zach can be insulated from most of this disturbing, yet normal and encouraged, psycho playground party.

As someone who was formally going into teaching, I am not disparaging public school. It works great for most kids, but not all. The 2 ½ years we spent in public school did not work. Now we are trying this.

Gushing Blood for Ron Cobb

I'm nuts for Alien.

Not Aliens.
Not Alien 3.
Not Alien Resurrection.
Not Alien vs. Predator.
Not Prometheus.
Not Alien Covenant.

Just Alien. Copyright 1979, Twentieth Century Fox.

It's my favorite film, and one I consider a paragon of mainstream blockbuster films over the decades. It continues to have wide appeal, particularly the artwork and design aspects. I would have awarded Giger multiple Oscars for his work on this film alone, had I not seen concept art by futurist, Ron Cobb.

Director Ridley Scott, with writers Dan O'Bannon and Ron Shusett, collaborated with Cobb's vision of what the interior of the spacecraft Nostromo should look like. It was terrifying. It was beautiful. It looked like what a leftover well-used piece of equipment in the dystopian future should look like. It looked like an old city bus.

A new form of entertainment out now, the video game movie, has brought Ron Cobb's future back. Okay, yes, I'm late to the punch, as Alien Isolation has been out for several years now. When I saw previews of this game, it was Ron Cobb in a blender. It was breathtaking.

A few years later, I secured a copy of Isolation, and played through the first few levels. I had to get Zachary out the room to do this, so I was mainly playing at night for a few days. Finally, I had to stop. This game is way too scary. I didn't want to have a heart attack.

It's rather impossible to play, too, especially for an infrequent gamer like me. I just don't have the time to hide from the alien 1,000 times and die 999 times over a period of months.

Still, Alien Isolation is just gorgeous. It's no wonder that it took 3 years to develop. The androids have that very disturbing THX 1138 quality, that gives you no glimmer of their intent for human preservation. I would have loved to see an actual Alien franchise film with these Seegson defective androids.

The designers also made a Nostromo mission you can add on, so you can play as in the original 1979 film. They even brought in the original actors for voice, and just in time, too. (Rest in peace John Hurt.)

I experienced the rest of the game as a movie though video walkthroughs. It's all my heart could take.

Let me just say Ripley is up shit creek without a paddle more than 600 times over than any Ripley in any previous film to date or will be in any future film, absolutely to the point of total implausible survival.

Future humans just don't burst into flames in the presence of gamma rays like they used to.

She falls, a lot. Gets hit by trains, ejected into space at least 3 times, exposed to radiation, strangled, shot, and a host of other fatal events. But don't worry, Ripley, you have a circuit card and a wall phone.

I would actually love to play this game all the through with it only being mildly fatal, like Portal. But since this will be the last game I play for a while, at least the storyline can be put to rest. Plus, if I see one more Ron Cobb bulkhead, I'm going to puke rainbows.

Spelling Bee

For some reason, my Dad received an earthenware jar as a gift from one of his students. What's more, he's been having fun labeling all things in the house with his new Brother p-Touch label printer. So, I come home from work to find that he's labeled the jar "POOP". Zach notices the jar, of course.

While standing at a crosswalk, Bob asks Zach, "How do you spell poop?"
"P...O...O...P..." says Zach, his memory perfect.

Bob and I began laughing hysterically. So Zach can spell poop, but not his own name? Tragedy!

Maniac Mansion of Mud

Power, more power.

Sometimes I worry that Zach is going to grow up to be the next Christopher Walken character or some other Bond villain. During my long stretches on the road, I envision my parting words to him as he goes out into the world: "I had better not ever see you on America's Most Wanted." This is such a romantic vision of your child running off to join the circus or a corporation. Is there a difference?

No, I figure Zach will be the kind of villain living under the radar... or as a family man. Anything can happen. As for now, Zach must settle with being the charming little butt he is. These are just future concerns, and let's live in the present, shall we?


It was Nude-Mud-Day this afternoon, which followed from the Nude-Mud-Evening yesterday. These are precious moments in the life of a young boy, given society's frowning upon Nude-Mud-Days for ages much past 6 or 7. Certainly, society must frown upon defecating in the middle of an open field as Zach managed to do yesterday. He then returned to the porch walking on all fours like a dog and demanded wipe-down service.

How precious.


Before breakfast this morning, he tried sneaking outside.

"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To find my poop," he declared.
"I don't think so."

Frankly, this isn't the first time, and it needs to be the last. No more bush-bathroom adventures unless we're camping. It may be horse country, but still, there needs to be some standard. We're not dirt people.

The photographer is hoping there are no other critters in that thar hole.

Kid Gets a Shot

Yesterday, Zach visited the doctor because an ear infection—his first—was creating a huge lump behind the jaw. As expected, the wait was long, so I brought his favorite book about planets and the forever-lost nerdy explorer, Waldo.

Zach loves the doctor. He loves the attention—the exam, the stethoscope, standing on the scale. This time, we feared, it would not be fun. They said he'd be getting a shot right into the leg meat. Most vaccines aren't too bad, but antibiotic shots? Ouch! They go deep.

Yes, he cried, but the boy took it and gave a triumphant thumbs-up afterward.
A treat was in order for weathering such torture. Chocolate candies and toy cars fit settled the debt nicely and once again, we were loved.

Kid happy

Now he's pissed.

Me

I've decided that I've have become a character from a Rand and Robyn Miller game for children. The back story is about a mysterious teddy bear named Spelunx who employs the young Seudo to build him an ultimate toaster for the Great Games. During the event, Spelunx saves Seudo from falling and they become lifetime friends. They go on to build a cave kingdom in the mountains and a rocket to explore the solar system.

Bob & I
(©Brøderbund (now ©Cyan))

Somehow, this bizarre story is mine. I, too, have a partner, Bob. He's like a teddy bear... that is, he's part of the "bear" community. As in the story, we are some years apart in age. We also have a son named Zach. I like to say that Bob saved me from being a kid my whole life. What a guy!