“The average age in our platoon, I’d guess, was nineteen or twenty, and as a consequence things often took on a curiously playful atmosphere, like a sporting event at some exotic reform school. The competition could be lethal, yet there was a childlike exuberance to it all, lots of pranks and horseplay. Like when Azar blew away Ted Lavender’s puppy. ‘What’s everyone so upset about?’ Azar said. ‘I mean, Christ, I’m just a boy.’” –The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien
This is two years too late. I’m careful about what I reveal to my students, just like I was careful what I revealed to my patients. If it’s pertinent, I think it’s fair game, even if it just makes the point of “hey, I’ve dealt with something like this, too.”
In all likelihood, I’ll never be famous. Which is probably a great thing for me. It’s not an aspiration of mine. It kind of surprises me that people actually WANT to be famous. Aside from enjoying my anonymity, there are certain things I couldn’t do anymore. Such as…
A vegan, an atheist, and a crossfitter walk into a bar. You know this because they are all the same person, and they tell everyone very loudly as soon as they walk into the room. -A joke someone told me two years ago
I was fortunate before I started teaching to talk to my high school chemistry teacher, John Oliver. He is a great science historian and excelled at making difficult material accessible to high school students. I was fortunate to have coffee with him this summer as I was seeking out how to teach high school chemistry. He was light on details (and he was correct) and heavy on general principles. “Be kind to yourself” was a refrain I heard from him more than once.
Not the formerly moppy haired, HBO broadcasting, parrot-look-alike-wannabe, British comedian.