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.
Amanda is watching Oprah in her off-campus apartment. Her feet are propped up on the sofa, a cold lemonade in one hand, a trashy novel in the other. She is the epitome of relaxed, the tottering tower of dirty dishes in the sink notwithstanding. Her roommate walks in and addresses
Six Year Old Child: Mommy, May I go out and play? Mommy: Shut up! We only had you to save the marriage. *** The except above is as far as I’ve gotten in my new book, Parent Ineffectiveness Training: How to Ensure that your Child Grows up to be, at
Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2024 | Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC | (305) 978-8917 | [email protected]
