"Because I've been absent and missed that part of health class"

Sis and I had a conversation yesterday where I mentioned my lie-detecting skills. To fill you all in, I have some sweet lie-detecting skills, especially if the person telling the lie is between the ages of eleven and fifteen. I have honed my skills at work, although, to be honest, one would have to be a pretty big idiot to not be able to detect the lies that the middle school students tell. It's just because they're so bad at it. Middle school students *cannot tell lies*.

It is physically impossible for someone between the ages of eleven and fifteen to pull off a proper lie. And it's hilarious watching one of them try. They become all sincere and earnestly try to look pious, while at the same time maintaining their cooler- and holier-than-thou attitudes. What makes it even better that middle school students are *smarter than adults*. That is why an adult can witness, with his own eyes, a middle school student sending text messages on his or her cell phone during class and be told that no, the student was not, in fact, sending text messages and furthermore, does not have a cell phone on his person. (Sidenote: "That was not on my person!!") The adult must be mistaken, because clearly, the middle school student is of higher intelligence. Middle school students know everything and they are always right. How is this? Well, for those of you adults out there who are unaware of your own condition, by the time one has reached the ripe, old age of thirteen, one has experienced and seen enough of life to become all-knowing. At the age of thirteen, there is no limit to one's knowledge. Parents, teachers, and other adults older than the cut-off age for knowledge (which is when one graduates from high school) have become senile in their old age and will, therefore, fall for anything that a middle school student will say. So, if a middle school student says, "I was not texting! I don't even have a phone!" we adults are supposed to take him or her at his or her word.

This leads me to something I observed today once I had arrived at the bibliotheque. I was standing in the stacks, looking for a book, when I heard a boy approach the reference desk and ask where the sex ed. books were located. Well, naturally, having just left the middle school where I work, my ears perked up and I looked around the bookshelf to see who was asking for the sex ed. book. (I was not at a library the students from my middle school would utilize, so I wasn't looking to see if it was a student that I know, I just wanted to see what the reference librarians' reactions would be). The person who was inquiring as to the location of the sex ed. books was, in my rough estimate, fourteen years old, and the reference librarian was, again in my rough estimate, a sixty-seven year old woman. As I predicted, the reference librarian immediately passed this boy off to the other reference librarian to cover her complete and utter embarassment that a fourteen year old boy was asking for books about "sex ed." The first librarian totally tried to cover herself by saying, "Umm, I'm not sure, let's ask so-and-so." But a person with my lie-detecting skills could see right through that statement (and I was shortly proved to be correct). The other reference librarian, a woman who was probably in her mid-forties, asked the boy what he needed and he repeated his request for help in finding the sex ed. books. The kicker? The kid actually said, "I've been absent and missed that part of health class," as the reason as to why he wished to view the sex ed. books. I almost broke down right there and called that kid on his flimsy lie, after I stopped hysterically laughing (it was a quiet laugh, I was in the library, after all). I was impressed with the second librarian, she calmly looked up the books on her computer and led him to the "sex ed." section. How was I proved to be correct about the first librarian? When the second lady came back to the desk, the first asked her, "It was in the 600s, right?"

I'm incensed by your "Raggedy Old Flag!"

As I was driving to the bibliotheque today I passed a real estate office that had one of those signs with the interchangeable letters out front. It read, "We're proud of our raggedy old flag." I was briefly taken aback and then I looked to the porch of the office (it was an old house that had been converted into business space) and I saw, indeed, that the realtors had a raggedy, old American flag prominently displayed. I was horrified. Did those people truly believe that they were being patriotic by displaying a frayed and faded American flag in front of their business? I felt like stopping and going into the office and asking them about their sign. Displaying an American flag in that condition is a complete slap in the face to true patriots, not to mention that it makes it seem as though your business is too "raggedy" and cheap to buy a proper flag. Maybe those realtors felt that it was okay to display that flag because of the sentimentality brought on by Memorial Day. As though that particular flag had seen war zones and lived to tell the tale. The only "raggedy old" flags that we should be honoring and feel proud of are those that have survived such circumstances, i.e. the flag on display at the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C.

Random Observations

Today, as I was driving past Bob Evans, I noticed that the parking lot seemed unusually full for a Friday afternoon. I then looked at the clock and noticed that it was 4:15 and my confusion was cleared.

I also noticed today that my downstairs neighbor has tried to remove the Fred Thompson sticker from his car's bumper. There's still a dash of bold blue ovally sticker left on the white bumper, though. I'm not sure of its meaning. It could be that Fred Thompson refused to be removed from this man's car and conscience. Or it could be that my neighbor only half-heartedly tried to erase his enthusiasm for the Fred Thompson campaign.

Thank You Harriet Beecher Stowe

True story: Harriet Beecher Stowe saved 300 people, because she was an abolitionist. All of my readers out there, you don't need to worry about checking that fact. It's true. I heard it at school today from my "favorite" teacher.

Fear

Okay, so yesterday I made a bold statement by saying that only two things scare me. But it's okay because I was borrowing that quote from the first Austin Powers movie. I've thought on the subject some more and I've come to the realization that there are actually many things that scare me. Such as robots. Or men with long fingernails. Or thoughts of the deaf students' lives after high school. But, I thought some more and I came to the conclusion that there are different kinds of fear. For example, robots don't really scare me in the same way that men with long fingernails do, or even thinking about what kind of life a deaf student will have after high school.

Robots scare me because I've seen The Terminator (one and two) and I, Robot. But I still dig robots, like Rosie from The Jetsons. And ROBOT is still one of the greatest signs I've ever learned. It's only certain robots that worry me. I have mixed feelings on that little robot, Asimo, who recently conducted Yo-Yo Ma and the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. I mean, Asimo's cute and all, but programming him to conduct an orchestra is scary. What's also strange is that Honda manufactured Asimo and Detroit welcomed him with open arms to conduct their symphony orchestra.

Men who have long fingernails are also scary. Just thinking about guys with long nails gives me the heebie-jeebies. They creep me out! I don't know what it is, but in going au natural, those men are unnatural.

Oh, and the deaf students. Mostly I worry about what they will be doing in their lives after high school. Out of all of the students with whom I've worked at the high school and middle school, there's only one who I can envision living a successful and productive life. The others have so much conflict in their home lives and they have so many issues communicating with the hearing world that I don't know how they'll end up.

"Only two things scare me...

and one is nuclear war."

I'm not quite sure what's going on in the parking lot across the street from the middle school, but it looks as though the carnies have come to town and are starting to set up shop. What? Working with middle school students who have just three weeks of school left before summer vacation wasn't scary enough? Now we need to throw some carnies into the mix? Yikes!!