Robin has a hot stock tip. Really hot! Can’t miss! Red hot! Unbelievable! Gonna go from one dollar a share to over a hundred dollars! Robin knows a guy who knows a guy! And this guy knows stocks! Practically insider trading! A sure thing! Robin’s life is about to change!
I am not proud that I remember the following unfortunate jokes from junior high. Nor am I gratified to admit that I found them amusing 50-something years ago. “Mommy, mommy, I don’t want to go to Europe!” “Shut up and keep swimming!” But when I hear of families who communicate
Most of my blogs are directed at loving parents; this essay is addressed to colleagues. Most of my posts contain actionable advice; this column has open questions. My repeated polemics—play Parcheesi with your kids; take your kids camping—will give way to queries for which I do not have straightforward guidance.
Eight eggplants, five dozen little tomatoes, twenty peppers, and a watermelon. Not a bad harvest for one afternoon. Admittedly a little straightforward financial accounting would suggest that the watermelon alone cost some two hundred dollars to produce—not including principle, interest, taxes, or insurance on the property in which the eye-catching
Willy Loman’s son Biff has his ups and downs. Biff is the star of the high school football team, is well liked, and anticipates a bright future. Yes, Biff has bullied Bernard the smart, small, supportive neighbor; yes, Biff has stolen construction material from a nearby site; yes, Biff absconded
Before you judge, walk a mile in the other person’s moccasins. Best case, you gain some perspective, understand where they’re coming from, what they’re feeling, why they think and act the way they do. Worst case, you’re 5280 feet away and you have a nice pair of moccasins. So consider
The SAT is changing. No more paper and pencil tests, all digital from here on out. And there will be fewer questions so the test won’t take as long. More time will be allowed for each response because recent research suggests that slower thinkers are deeper thinkers. The folks in
At the risk of oversharing, I’m going to come right out and admit that I was completely staggeringly incapable of penning an undergraduate admissions essay 50 years ago. As a high school senior, I stared at a blank piece of paper hour after hour. The paper stared back. The paper
To ensure a healthy harvest, the townspeople are careful to get the sacrifice exactly right. Apparently there were imperfections last year: the dress was not sewn properly, the sandals were open-toed. As a proximate result, the rains came late. This year the elders are determined not to make the same
No numbers. I promise. No formulas, no tables, and certainly no proofs. You do not need a pencil or graph paper to enjoy this essay. Yes, I am a math teacher in recovery and I suppose I have been known to stop people on the street, hand them a calculator,
Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2024 | Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC | (305) 978-8917 | [email protected]
