Role Models Come in All Sizes

I was fully prepared for the accolades I would receive from teaching. I was well on my way towards patting myself on the back and crowing “What a GREAT teacher you are, Nerd!” while blowing smoke up my own backside. Two years of teaching almost behind me, and so far, everything I’ve done has been met with praise and glory and…blah, blah, blah. Enough of that–here’s the reality of working with children — they are great equalizers when it comes to feelings of self-importance.

Nothing deflates an over-sized ego faster than dealing with the untimely death of a child. No, not my own child — I wouldn’t be writing this post with such reckless flippancy. Besides, if it were my 13- year old child who just succumbed to complications from his 6-year battle with leukemia, I’d be on the way to the nearest psych ward, hoping for a voluntary psychiatric hold.

But today, as I write this, there is a family here who is losing their child to the battle. Most likely, right this very minute they are gathering at his bedside, holding his hands, and praying one last time as a cohesive, family unit. Then, his younger sisters will leave as they see their brother alive for the very last time. And this is what is tearing me apart.

I met this family last year, when I was his teacher. Despite weekly chemo treatments, horrible side effects and general feelings of “ick”, he still managed to earn straight As and complete all his work at home. His parents insisted he maintain as “normal” a life as possible — going to school, doing his homework, taking his tests on schedule, etc., etc. His chemo treatments were always scheduled on Friday, so he’d have the weekend to catch up on homework (between bouts of nausea, I bet).  I could tell where he was in his treatments based upon the amount of red fuzz he had on his head — the less hair, the more dosage of chemo he would have in him. But, never, ever, did he lose ground in my class. His parents insisted upon it, and he made it happen.

He moved onto eighth grade this year, so I lost him as a student. But, his little sister took his place at a desk in my 6th grade room this year. And, much like he was, she never lets her brother’s health situation get in the way of her schooling. Every day she comes to class, ready, eager and willing to participate. She eagerly reads out loud, answers questions about grammar, bops up to be the first person to share her writings — everything that happens in my class room, she embraces enthusiastically and with such focus and attention. All the while knowing when she goes home at the end of the day, her parents will be at the hospital, hoping for a miracle for her older brother.

I’ve always known the world needs positive role models. I get so disgusted when I hear that people with questionable morals and values are being idolized in the press and put on pedestals for the world to “ooh” and “aw” over, when all they’ve really done is just figure out a way to act obnoxious and foolish and get away with it.

They aren’t role models to me. The role models — the ones who deserve to be placed on a pedestal, are the ones like the family I’ve met, who are going to be burying their 13-year old son and brother shortly. Through this horrific battle, they have remained close, strong in their faith and stoic in their deeds.

They are my role models. They have taught me more than I could ever teach them. What a great way to keep my ego in check.

Goodbye, Seth.

Satan’s Sandwich

The first clue that something might be “amiss” should have been the pink colored liability waiver form the person needed to sign.

The next clue — even stronger than the first — was the pair of latex gloves handed out to the diner with the tag line: “Here–you need to wear these to keep your hands from touching any of the juices.” Whoa.

The third clue that should have scared the customer off was watching another person try to eat it. I imagine it would be like attending a state mandated electrocution.

This is what I saw on TV last night.

The show “Man versus Food” is a glutton fest for foodies. Every week, the host of the show travels to some place (always in the United States — which explains why we’re such an obese nation over all) and challenges the establishment to make him physically ill by force feeding him portions of “something” big enough to support 20 Ethiopian families for two years (I’ve heard stories of some Ethiopian families surviving for one month on two chickens and some hardened dirt).

Tonight’s episode, however, took a scary, sadistic turn away from gluttony and into the not-often-explored world of “dangerous food to eat.” The host went to a restaurant that serves a burger called “The Four Horseman Burger”.

Ooh — the fourth clue! For those of us familiar with the term “The Four Horsemen,” you can surmise that its chosen name portends something very, very, bad. And you won’t be disappointed by said assumption, either. This was a very, very, evil burger. I think it would make an excellent torture device — force feed this to terrorists and they’ll be spilling their secrets faster than Angelina Jolie collects orphans.

The secret weapon in this burger is the “ghost chili”. I’ve never heard of this particular chili, but I believe it’s the chili Satan grows in his personal garden and uses as a topping for his nachos. I cannot support the notion that God would create anything this evil. It truly must be the “work of the devil.”

Let’s put some scientific insight into this…

A Jalepeno pepper tops out at approximately 8,000 Scoville units of “hotness”

A Serrano tops out at 23,000 units

A Habanero at 350,000 units

The “ghost chili” — the most potent in the world, exceeds 1,000,000 Scoville units. I’ve included a picture of the little rascal here:

Hottest Chili Pepper in the World

Back to the burger…

The burger has ALL of those chilis on them. Yes, all FOUR types (The name makes perfect sense now, huh, huh?) The only thing hotter than the ghost chili is a can of law-enforcement grade “pepper spray”.  I don’t think they spray that on the burger, but that would make a logical “finishing” touch before presentation.

The challenge was for the host to eat one of these burgers in half an hour. So of course I had to watch him try on this challenge.

He took one bite….and that’s when Satan could be heard laughing in the background. The host squirmed, pounded the table, blanched, grimaced, broke out into a river of sweat, cried, screamed, moaned, and did everything imaginable except spontaneously combust. I was waiting for that “en fuego” moment to happen — I really was!

Soon, that one bite became another, then another, then finally — ALL GONE! The host had managed to eat the entire burger within the half hour. Personally, the time challenge was a sidebar — I was more disappointed by the fact that I wasn’t going to get to see a man burst into flames before my very eyes.

Of course the challenge didn’t end there. Naw, that’d be “too easy”. Upon finishing the last morsel, the host had to sit there squirming for another five minutes — before he could take a sip of milk to neutralize the effects. I imagine he also was waiting for the layers of esphogeal tissue that he burned off eating this monstrosity to make their way down into the bubbling, churning, volcanic lava pit, aka “his stomach”.

The good news is, he survived the challenge. The bad news is, he probably blew out his rectum when flames shot out of his ass the next day.