Though unlikely, if anyone is actually a regular reader of this blog, then you know that Marcus is the one who talks about deep things.  Marcus is the one who causes us to think.  Marcus is the one who paid attention in school.  Brad’s job is to say ridiculous things of no real importance.  And, in the spirit of the 3rd person in which I am writing this particular entry, I would say that Brad does a great job at these things.  However, today is different.  Brad will attempt to say something relevant.  

Divine Intervention.  A curious saying indeed.  Does God intervene in our lives?  Are there things that can’t be explained any other way?  I believe the answer to these questions is yes.  Take, for example, Marcus and his lovely wife Sara.  Is it chance that Marcus met and married the female version of himself?  No.  Or, what about Marcus and his new hand-me-down Apple computer?  Is it coincidence that someone from his church was no longer interested in computing and was looking to rid their lives of technology?  Definitely not.  These things beg another question:  Is it by chance that two friends who have forever dreamed of motivational speaking, who months ago had no idea what they could possibly talk about on stage, suddenly both become survivors of testicular cancer, a disease that afflicts .0095% of our population?  Or that all those uniball jokes Marcus has served Brad’s way now apply to him as well?  Is this chance?  Honestly, I think it is.  One could argue that it is or isn’t, but since it is my blog entry, I will not be listening to any such arguments.  Did God strike us both with cancer?  My answer is no.  But it happened, and God was there.  Not as the source of the disease, but as the source of strength that is needed to fight it and carry on.  Can God, in His infinite wisdom and grace, turn our trials into joys?  Yep.  Can He turn our pain and chemo-induced nausea into genious motivational speaking?  Without a doubt.  Will He?  Absolutely.

…and we shake it all about.  Actually shaking is not on my list of things to do.  We will have to compare scars some time.  More to come later! 

Once again, Marcus has used this blog to ask the deeper questions.  Questions of life and morality, questions that may have no answer, like, “why are high schoolers incapable of actual thought?”  Unfortunately, Marcus, I have no answers.  Truth is, I never have.  My mind wanders back to the days in Mr. O’s (name abbreviated for protection) history class.  Even back then, I couldn’t answer questions, especially the ones on our weekly news quizzes.  Thankfully, Mr. O wasn’t all that attentive, so I could turn around and copy off of, well, you, Marcus.  And these were trivial questions.  Questions about OJ’s glove and Y2K.  If I couldn’t answer them, I certainly can’t tell you how to get the 18 year olds of the world to care.  I am not sure even the help of Sven Blogsnorgman will help.  Dyshieki Albindingo maybe, but he has long since quit the High 5 puppet show/motivational circuit and has taken up building castles made of straw. 

Speaking of education, why aren’t my fifth graders like those fifth graders on that one show?  Who are these robotic imposter fifth graders that make everyday people feel stupid?  I have some really smart students, but I am pretty sure they can’t tell you what month the vernal equinox takes place when the groundhog sees its shadow in the southern hemisphere in years that only end in prime numbers. 

It is time for me to go work on my special project.  The one that involves making a helmet that looks like my hair.  I’ve been planning it for ages.

Brad is right; I am lame.

Should anyone wonder what it is like to try to motivate, imagine trying to communicate grace to a monkey…got that image. That is what it is like for me try to teach something meaningful to one of my classes–from now on I will call them the class that must not be named. Sometimes I pine for something mindless to do; so much so, I found an old push vacuum–the kind in restaurants they use while people are still eating–in an office before my 3th period class and proceeded to visit classrooms to give them a once over. Is there anything motivating about vacuuming?

On a more serious note, how do you teach grace to people that only access 3mm below the surface of their existence? I do not pretend that I have not accessed that shallow ground to make poop jokes, but I can go deeper than that. Shouldn’t 18 year olds give a damn about other people or do they really only live for the next joke at somebody’s expense? Often the excuse made–for adults and kids–is that there exists a threshold of apathy, a so called mob mentality. In a culture that values individuality and self-interest it seems strange that when it comes to failures and mistakes we quickly shed the cloak of Enlightenment thinking and deflect any connection between our action–or inaction–and the self to the collective.

When does my indignation turn to self-righteousness?  I have hope that these people in the class that must not be named can find grace, can sit humbly at the feet of a gift given that is not deserved and will never be deserved.  But am I stepping out from under that grace to point out the speck in their eyes?  It is hard to say.

It was not my purpose to plunge this blog entry into my retrospection and second-guessing, but who better to ponder this with than BVD*.   I am sure that my friend Brad can channel Sven Blogsnorgman–the noted High-5 motivation speaker–to provide some words of wisdom.

*On a completely unrelated note, I have recently procured new nether-garments…and yes they are BVD’s.  Quite comfortable.  Do you get royalties from them?  Check into that.

Well, Marcus, I think we have done it.  We excited the people with some of the best blogging in the known universe, only to leave them high and dry.  It is my hope that people understand that to motivate is a full time job.  We must not be bothered with tedious tasks, like typing for instance.  Who are we kidding?  We don’t have time to write about made up scenarios involving robots that change to and from motor vehicles!  You have your entire student population to educate everyday, and me?  Well, I have 5th graders to babysit.  Plus, I am nose deep in a bid for the valley middle school basketball league championship, and since we are both former players of this league (and it hasn’t been the same since we left), we know that nothing is more important than being better than everyone else.  I do not know if you will reblog to this blog, Marcus, but like the rest of our readers, I can only hope.  You stay classy.

In response to Sara’s comment, I made sure to title this blog appropriately.  However, Sara, dare I ask, do you really not know my writing from your husband’s?  Mine is typically brilliant and full of golden nuggets.  Marcus’ can be described the same way, but usually consists of actual complete thoughts, deep thoughts even.  For example, his latest blog talks about how he was reading in some kind of educational journal.  Hello!!!???  Why in the world would I be reading an educational journal?  I am an old fashioned educator, one that believes reading is overrated, and outdated.  Schools need to get back to the days of teaching kids what really matters, like how important it is to climb to the top of the rope in gym class, and that bad behavior will solicit smacks with some kind of stick-like object.

Marcus, I agree that the article you are reading about intrinsic and extrinsic motivation is completely ridiculous.  In fact, it is making me feel the opposite of motivated.  How am I supposed to work under these conditions?  My motivation well is dry, and therefore, I ask you to fill it up.  I shall give you a scenario, and your job is to outline how you would go about motivating.  Pretend that a part of your school population is saddened by the recent Transformers movie.  They are old school fans, and still have the original Optimus Prime in the plastic and cardboard container.  Their identity was and will always be the dudes who never grew up.  Now, go into any Target or Walmart, and all you see is Transformers paraphernalia.  Cut to you on stage with your microphone and coffee-stained suit, the guest speaker for the assembly, the pathetic losers wiping their eyes just often enough to see you through their tears.  You are the motivational speaker, their motivational speaker.  Go.

I have been away for too long; maybe this will be the beginning of our motivational talk.  Do not let the sun go down on your blogging…hmm, I think it is anger and that has nothing to do with my lack luster blogging.  Maybe we need to create themes to write about–I could write one and you respond and the you write one and I respond.  This would, dare I say, motivate me.

Speaking of motivation, I had to read an article from Educational Leadership–this should be enough to tip you off on the content–about intrinsic versus extrinsic motivation for students.  Basically, teachers should not use extrinsic motivators like grades because we should find out the inner motivation of all of our students.  Teachers need to focus on the things they cannot control like what is inside the head and the heart of a child as opposed the the tangible things like grades, candy, stern looks, and ponies.  Do not get me wrong, I believe connecting with kids will make my job easier, but kids need to learn how to be motivated by things they cannot control.  I have never been intrinsically motivated to grade papers, but somehow I do it.  How is this different for kids?  Sage of the ‘kane, let me know.

It is time.  Time to heed the flow of deeper tides that run.  Yes, Marcus, it is time to invade random middle schools and high schools, with coffee-stained, short-sleeved collared shirts with ties that are just a little too short, and motivate .  I realized today, as I sat through a 6 hour literacy class at the local Educational Service District, that I’m not all that interested in literacy.  Don’t get me wrong, words are great, and being able to read and write them is even better.  However, at some point, one must put flesh on the bones of one’s dreams.  We were set apart at a young age, at the age when most are deciding to be either an XX or an XY, to stand up and say something, preferably motivational.  Oh, and forget about preparation, we will do what we used to do in high school while presenting puppet shows to young children; make it up as we go.  I am starting this journey tomorrow by simply not going to work.  I await your phone call detailing our first gig.  God’s speed.

October: the perfect time for a little Smashing Pumpkins.  Should anyone wonder if Brad is capable of being boring?  I say no; if anyone believes he is capable of insipidty, they must imbibe only the finest of paint thinner to create such an illusion.  This paragraph is brought to you by: The Dictionary Widget in Mac OS X.

If Brad’s classroom is a bellwether of what is to come, it is clear: Brad and Marcus must begin the task of assembling the best 20 minutes to 120 minutes of pure motivational alchemic gold.  Any ideas?

First of all, I must apologize for my blogging absence.  I have been busy, ummm…”teaching.”  Speaking of teaching, I have had a revelation, an epiphany if you will.  While correcting various papers and tests and things, I began to notice a pattern.  There are good grades and there are bad.  Many possibilities for this phenomena formulated in my mind.  So, over the next couple of days, I kept a close eye on those kids who are struggling, and I have uncovered the truth.  There are many factors contributing to their unsuccess.  While I am spewing gold at the front of the room, they are either:  A) eating paper like it’s a chicken wing; B) staring into space with such vigor that they have almost conquered the final frontier; C) have somehow transformed their chair into a jungle gym meant to test even the finest of balancing skills; or D) are planning a revolution inside their desk, which requires both hands and their complete attention.  Perhaps you are thinking that my teaching is so boring that it is pushing them to these distractions, and to this I say, prove it.

Marcus, sounds like your neighbors are more than willing to attack your tiny putting green of a lawn for a Wal-Mart price.  I say go for it.  In a fair trade of work exerted, perhaps you can put their newspaper on their porch for a mere $10 a day.