“Let’s go! C’mon! The day is wasting! It’s 5:00 am! Get your shoes on! What’s that? It’s raining? Who cares! You won’t melt! You are not made out of sugar! Everybody’s waiting! We need to go! Now!” The oft-cited Golden Rule suggests doing unto others as you would have them
“Make an eight. No, not two circles one on top of the other. One continuous line. Two circles is wrong. One fluid line is correct. There is one proper way to write the number eight.” So said my third grade teacher. She was passionate about handwriting. I was less inspired.
Much has been made of late regarding enabling and rescuing versus natural consequences and learning from failure. Letting them fail, like riding public transportation, seems best left for other people’s children. “Helping out” “just this one last time” is what parents do with their own. As always, the best interest
I can’t be the first person to have figured this out. Indeed, you have likely arrived at the same solution. Members of a certain generation will immediately know the answer to which I refer. For younger readers, here is the requisite background: A man is trapped in an underground transit
“Training your Retriever,” James Lamb Free’s seminal 1949 tome, remains a classic. In my house anyway. Where a series of responsible brown dogs have testified to the author’s expertise. “Thurber” would retrieve from the gates of hell. He knew left from right, would respond to my instructions shouted from halfway
If you are going to be lost in the woods, my buddy Shayne is the person with whom you want to be lost. No responsible parent would forget to bring warm clothing for his children on a chilly three-day, two-night primitive hike. But if a parent ever did leave all
What if there were one simple answer to your unrelenting doubts? What if that unassuming solution would take away all the pain? What if that one unique answer were hidden in plain sight? What if that solution were so mind-numbingly obvious that, once you had stumbled upon its blinding clarity,
She was one of those clever enough and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her into a family of high achievers. She had no natural genius, no means of getting known, understood. She took as many advanced courses as her ability and her advisors would allow, but
Applicants to medical school are aware of two deadlines. For the purposes of this column we’ll call these deadlines “the early deadline” and “the late deadline.” Indeed, all information that follows is “truthful” if not “factual.” (You have a busy day, gentle reader, and I certainly have better things to
One of my running buddies is bad at math. Terrible. Truly. Took only the one required math course in college to fulfill the distribution requirement: algebra one. Took it three times. Finally squeaked through with a C-. Promptly forgot what little he had learned. Could no more factor a simple
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