Marc
I was reading Jonathan Kozol's Savage Inequalities when he started talking about being in a school in East St. Louis, sitting next to a sleeping child, and it brought me back to all those cozy days, nestled quietly, soundlessly in my desks at my high school ... sleeping. One class that was always good for a snore, and consequently run by my favorite teacher -- Mr. Porter, was Biology or Advanced Biology. I had him for both. Others can attest to the bore factor -- Brian, did you ever have him? Snoozesville, totally. In fact, I used to sit in the back row, which only had two seats, stuck between two lab tables, with my friend Jen (though we always called her Jenitalia, she didn't mind). We'd draw pictures of each other in silly places, like the short bus, or at the beach, and unannounced, during the middle of a lecture, would stand up, walk to the bulletin board next to the front door, and post our drawings up on Mr. Porter's "Quest For Excellence" board, which housed the best and most apt laboratory drawings. Pictures of people riding the short bus had no place there, at least not until Jenitalia and I showed up.
I also used to hang signs off my desk that read "Please Don't Bug Me, I'm Sleeping" or my personal favorite "Out to Pasture: Herding Sheep". Classic, I tells ya'. Classic.
I've had quite the long love affair with sleep, I've been told. I was the only one of four children that never wanted to go to bed as an infant. They'd put me in the car, turn on the radio and drive me up and down the highway until I zonked out, usually at about midnight or so. I don't imagine that helped either of my parents careers, but I'm sure they didn't care, seeing as how I was the first born and they obviously loved me the most. When I was a young lad I used to kick and scream before bedtime, and sneak out of bed to go back downstairs and play with my toys or watch late night television. I always got caught either (a) walking down those terribly creeky stairs, or (b) playing too loudly, or (c) listening to the television to loudly and either (1) clapping, or (2) laughing along. My perception skills hadn't quite fully developed at that time.
The funny thing about actually putting me to bed and getting me to sleep was that I'd never wake up. Ever. Couldn't shake me out of bed with an earthquake. I was the only child that never woke up during those late night tornado sirens blaring outside. Never. I'd slept through storms that would've torn the roof off the place if I hadn't have been sucking in so much air, while I was sleeping. Now, I take naps when I can. I took a quick one tonight, at about 8 while reading. Too much information in a book makes me nod off. I'll get to bed around three or four later tonight (I've been trying to go to bed earlier than usual). I'll wake up at noon. This is the life.
I was reading Jonathan Kozol's Savage Inequalities when he started talking about being in a school in East St. Louis, sitting next to a sleeping child, and it brought me back to all those cozy days, nestled quietly, soundlessly in my desks at my high school ... sleeping. One class that was always good for a snore, and consequently run by my favorite teacher -- Mr. Porter, was Biology or Advanced Biology. I had him for both. Others can attest to the bore factor -- Brian, did you ever have him? Snoozesville, totally. In fact, I used to sit in the back row, which only had two seats, stuck between two lab tables, with my friend Jen (though we always called her Jenitalia, she didn't mind). We'd draw pictures of each other in silly places, like the short bus, or at the beach, and unannounced, during the middle of a lecture, would stand up, walk to the bulletin board next to the front door, and post our drawings up on Mr. Porter's "Quest For Excellence" board, which housed the best and most apt laboratory drawings. Pictures of people riding the short bus had no place there, at least not until Jenitalia and I showed up.
I also used to hang signs off my desk that read "Please Don't Bug Me, I'm Sleeping" or my personal favorite "Out to Pasture: Herding Sheep". Classic, I tells ya'. Classic.
I've had quite the long love affair with sleep, I've been told. I was the only one of four children that never wanted to go to bed as an infant. They'd put me in the car, turn on the radio and drive me up and down the highway until I zonked out, usually at about midnight or so. I don't imagine that helped either of my parents careers, but I'm sure they didn't care, seeing as how I was the first born and they obviously loved me the most. When I was a young lad I used to kick and scream before bedtime, and sneak out of bed to go back downstairs and play with my toys or watch late night television. I always got caught either (a) walking down those terribly creeky stairs, or (b) playing too loudly, or (c) listening to the television to loudly and either (1) clapping, or (2) laughing along. My perception skills hadn't quite fully developed at that time.
The funny thing about actually putting me to bed and getting me to sleep was that I'd never wake up. Ever. Couldn't shake me out of bed with an earthquake. I was the only child that never woke up during those late night tornado sirens blaring outside. Never. I'd slept through storms that would've torn the roof off the place if I hadn't have been sucking in so much air, while I was sleeping. Now, I take naps when I can. I took a quick one tonight, at about 8 while reading. Too much information in a book makes me nod off. I'll get to bed around three or four later tonight (I've been trying to go to bed earlier than usual). I'll wake up at noon. This is the life.
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