As a baby, Nero was easy to soothe. Within a few weeks of coming home from the hospital, he slept through the night. All his developmental milestones were within normal limits–talking, walking, potty training. Nero learned to dress himself, ride a bike, read a book, and make a sandwich just
“Can you shut up?” doesn’t actually mean “Can you shut up?” “Can you shut up?” means “Will you shut up?” Because presumably, the speaker is physiologically capable of shutting up–unless there is some new disease (foot in mouth”?)–of which I am unaware. The question is whether or not the speaker
My family and I were at a restaurant recently where we observed a nine year-old at dinner with his family. The young man was intensely connected to his screen, suckling greedily on his video game. Both hands were cemented to the keyboard; his headphones were successfully obliterating any stimulus not
Not so many generations ago, fiddlers in particular and musicians in general, were considered to be time wasters of the worst sort. Idle hands were the devil’s playthings; those hands on musical instruments were the least productive. Music was considered the “gateway drug” to alcohol, dissolution and shame. Today, frantic
I felt strongly about a recent election. In my judgment, Candidate A* was the better man. Candidate B had his good points, certainly, but Candidate A had my unqualified support. I was so thoroughly convinced that Candidate A would be a more effective leader that I went downtown to his
Maybe I shouldn’t but I let my 14 year-old son drink alcohol every day. Usually I just let him have beer but sometimes I let him drink vodka or bourbon. I let him make his own decision; it’s his choice. He’ll be an adult soon and there is a lot
I spend quite a bit of time in the neighborhood of one of my running buddies, not so many miles from my house. Before we go for our run, we meet with our dogs in a vacant lot near his home to chat, stretch, and watch the dogs romp. Langley
My foot itches. I think I maybe got bit by a mosquito but it could be foot cancer. You never know. I heard about a woman who had foot cancer. I’ve tried scratching my foot and then I tried soaking my foot in strawberry jam while scratching my left ear
Teaching math is not just what I do. Teaching math is who I am. Teaching math is a source of pride to me, a craft if you will. Some people can build a canoe or do a backflip. I can teach math. I can teach math to low income students
A scant 33 years ago, at the ripe old age of 22, I eked out a precarious existence as a middle school math teacher at a private day school. I loved teaching; I loved my colleagues on the faculty; I loved my students. But their parents scared me to death.
Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2022 | Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC | (305) 978-8917 | [email protected]
