Reading up a storm

The timing could not have been better.

Yesterday, I went out to work on my trails. The snow has melted, and as such, there is a lot of vegetation and tree nubs that need to be removed to make the trails safer for bikes and bikers alike. It was nearly 4 hours of sawing and snipping and dragging, and while the finished product was acceptable, I knew I would be paying the price later.

The first price was my sleep. You would think I would have slept like a log – in fact, like one of the logs I had to drag from my path – but this was not the case. Since I did so many hours of repetitive work, it entered into my dream world as well. I ended up clearing trails with a group of aliens, section by section, and the dream related it to me in excruciating detail. It was like doing another 4 hours of trail work. And don’t get me wrong, I like to work on trails … but not enough to make it a full time job!

The second price was the physical trauma I experienced when I woke up the next morning. My sides were feeling pretty sore from all the pulling and sawing, and my hamstrings were quite tight from getting into those awkward positions over and over again – not to mention my knees, which were raw and bruised from kneeling so often on those rough trails. I felt like I had been run over by my own bike and there was no way I was going to go riding today. I just did not have it in me.

Which was perfect, because today, we just got hit with seriously strong winds and cold temperatures, not to mention a layer of snow to top it all off … literally. It was not a good day for a fat bike ride. In fact, when I looked outside, I had a silent and personal celebration. It makes it far easier to say no to biking when the weather outside is miserable. No one likes to stay indoors when the day is glorious, because you know deep down that you are squandering a wonderful opportunity. Not this time. Not going outside was saving me from misery and frostbite. Easy decision.

So, what do I do instead? Well, it just so happened that I came across a really good ebook the day before when I was searching through Libby, the public library app where I can get free ebooks and emagazines. I started reading it the night before, and the story was a good one. Since it is spring break, I have no obligations right now and so my time is pretty much my own.

With a big sigh of relief, my hamstrings and lower back and knees sighing in ecstasy, I sank deep into my Ikea reading chair this morning and began my reading marathon. When I was young, I was able to read for 10 hours or more in one day, without a bit of regret. I would not be able to reach double figures today, but I was sure going to try. I curled up with my ebook and dove deep into the story, and to my delight, it did not disappoint me at all. It was a gift from the recovery gods and I was taking full advantage of it.

I would keep writing about this but I have a second date with my Ikea chair. I am a third of the way through this ebook and I cannot wait to find out what the author brings forth now.

Work to rule

Recently, it was announced that next year, the teachers in Edmonton will no longer have a prep during the school year. For those unacquainted with this terminology, a prep is a block where there are no official teaching duties, and so this gives the teacher a chance to mark assessments, to communicate with parents, and as the name implies, to prepare future lessons. Losing this is a big blow and will undoubtedly lead to a poorer quality education for the students, since teachers will no longer have time to reflect and improve pedagogically.

But this blog focusses on the second major disadvantage – namely, that teachers will be much more tired. The prep was a valuable time to stop the whirlwind of a typical teaching day and simply rest. It was a time to regain sanity and recover, allowing us to be ready for the upcoming classes in a proper mental state..

I have learned this past few months how valuable this prep happens to be for me personally. We are in the quarter system right now, where we teach only two classes in a day – one class in the first morning and the other class in the afternoon – and as such, the prep can only happen in one of the quarters and not throughout the entire year, as it was in the past (on every second day.) I already had that prep in the first quarter, and so, for the second and third quarters, I have been going nonstop with precious little down time.

And I have noticed that it has been wearing me down. I have been quite tired, quite often, as I have mentioned in previous blogs. There have been some lessons where I have actually cancelled a few things (like neat demos and additional AP concepts) out of sheer exhaustion, which is completely out of character for me. I would be ashamed of this, but my need was great and I had to put my own physical health above the educational needs of the students.

So, now that I have discovered that my last two quarters will be the norm for the future, it has become a top priority for me to figure out a way to do my job in such a way that ensures I do not reach that exhausted state. But how do I do this? And how do I measure my success?

My plan in the classroom is to reduce the length of my lessons, removing any portions that might be considered unnecessary for the learning of the concepts. In this way, I will be able to retain a certain percentage of the class time (20% ?) to answer the many emails that we are flooded with on a regular basis, to complete the near-infinite little tasks required in a given day, and of course, to get some rest.

But I have to be careful which things I remove from my lesson. I cannot restrict my lessons to just the things that are vital for the exam, since I still want to be a teacher who makes physics exciting and has a lasting impact on the students. So, I have to be sure to include stories and applications within my lesson – I just have to be very mindful of which ones are to be included. And it must be noted that these stories and applications are also valuable for me to remain excited about the content, which keeps me refreshed.

When the teaching is all said and done at the end of the day, how will I know if I am successful in achieving my objective of working less and keeping my energy high? This seems to be an easy thing to determine – was I tired or not? But I have discovered that deep-seated exhaustion does not always reveal itself during my teaching day. I can feel quite normal and energetic throughout my day, but then in the evening, I am completely baked and have no energy to do anything at all. I need a foolproof system that allows me to determine the state of my tiredness, even when I am feeling great at the moment. But what?

Fortunately, I have two such measures, and they are quite surprising indicators. The first is online virtual golf. If there is any kind of exhaustion in me, my reaction time will not be as good as it would be when I am refreshed. I will be less consistent in my drives and iron shots, and when I make bad shots, I would be more likely to get frustrated. So, if I have good reaction time and I can take a bad shot with good grace, possibly even laughter, then I know that the school day was good.

My second measure is online Scrabble, which comes right after golf. This game requires a healthy and energetic mind for me to create 7 letter words and make quality, high scoring word placements. If I am tired, I will be super slow in my processing time, and I will miss obvious words. And again, I will get frustrated when the game is not going well.

So, that is my game plan. Teach lesson that are reduced in content but still high in quality and enjoyment, and then play golf and scrabble in the evening and see if I am playing up to my standards with relatively little frustration. I have actually already tried using these techniques and measures, and it seems to be working quite well so far. My lessons were powerful and effective, and yet I still had quite a bit of time for myself. And my golf and Scrabble were done well, even when I had to mark exams on one of these days.

I am so glad that I have been able to adapt to these new challenges to my teaching profession. I can only hope my colleagues can also find ways to keep their spirits up, without compromising the integrity of their lessons.

Aside: This is no easy task, by the way. Offering no prep classes for teachers could have as profound impact on education as the Covid virus has. The scary thing is, these are happening at the same time. I can only hope that this does not led to teacher burnout and a “work to rule” environment at the school, where teachers will only do what they are mandated and no more – which would spell the end of school sports, plays, musical performances, and other important extra-curricular activities. The kids have been suffering enough with Covid – this “no prep” rule could seal the coffin for quality education.

Rewind

Now, let’s talk watching videos. These days, it seems like everyone is watching Netflix, which is so very convenient since all the movies are literally at your fingertips, to be watched instantly at any time of the day. The quality and variety of movies on this website is quite good overall, and if you need more, then you can simply subscribe to other services like Disney and HBO. Hard to beat, right?

But it is just a little too easy because it does not require much of us to make the choices – just a willingness to pay the monthly fee and the ability to search through the lists of movies. And while this might seem exactly why you would want it, it is actually damaging to the whole movie watching experience.

Allow me to explain by going back in time and reliving the days of the video stores … like Blockbuster, Rogers Video, and the many others that dotted the city’s landscape in the 90’s.

It starts at home after a long day at school or work. The sun is going down, I am beginning to relax, and I want to do something special in the evening. Very often, this special thing is to watch a movie. So, I put on my walking clothes, grab my wallet, and begin the walk down Whyte Avenue to the video store. There is a bounce in my step, because I am anticipating finding the perfect movie for the evening, something that suits my mood and my present life situation. Something powerful and uplifting when I am feeling beaten down, something hilarious if I am feeling whimsical, something with action when my life is a bit blah, or something futuristic when I want to be blown away with technology.

I finally reach the store entrance and I enter with great eagerness. The first images are the posters on the wall, showing the most popular current movies of the week. The actors look larger than life and the advertising promises an experience like no other. I am practically salivating as my eyes explore each poster, one by one. I take my time, fully embracing the moment and trying to extract the most joy and anticipation out of it.

Then, it is time to get to work. I first hit the aisle that shows the current movies, since they are the ones advertised on the walls. They are going to be the most expensive, some costing as much as 5 or 6 dollars (!!), but if they have the right actors with the right story and in the right genre for my present needs, I might splurge on that movie to ensure a magical evening.

But if all of these movies are taken out, which happened at times, then I would turn my attention to the budget aisles. The movies are older, possibly even older than a year, but they are cheaper and so my expectations are lowered. Or, if I am really lucky, I find a great movie that I totally forgot about and never had a chance to see – score! Or, even better, I might take a risk and try a movie that I would ordinarily never take out, hopefully finding a diamond in the rough. I would be much more willing to take such a risk if a fantastic deal was being offered, like 7 movies for 7 dollars. Do you remember that? I loved this, not only because it saved money but also because it encouraged exploring new genres … even foreign movies.

I spend at least a half-hour in there, wandering the store and finding the best movies available. And this is not a waste of time, as some might think. It is actually part of the whole movie-watching experience … a sort of foreplay, if you will. (I must be careful with this analogy, since it would seem more appropriate for the movies that were in a different room, behind a dark screen with the sign Adult Only above it.)

The walk back is pure delayed gratification. The videos are now in my possession and I cannot wait to put one into my VCR and let the magic begin! I have my popcorn and chocolate and drink, I put on my mood lighting, and I curl up on my couch, engorging on food and drink and images. It is awesome!!!!

When it is all done, I make sure I rewind (Please be kind, and rewind!) as a responsible video consumer, and then I bring the movie(s) back, very thankful for the entire movie experience … and really looking forward to the next week when I would do it again.

Walk down memory aisle

Remember what it was like to get books from a local library? I certainly do. Let’s see if I can paint a picture of this.

The doors are always open (as long as it was within library hours, of course), welcoming one and all to the world of literature. As I move through the security detectors and walk into the main sanctuary, I am stunned by the sheer number of books within that wonderful enclosure. I feel a bit like Belle as she is escorted into the beast’s library, awestruck by the shelves of books that extend from floor to ceiling. It almost makes me want to waltz to an unseen orchestra in my joy. Almost.

On my right is the children’s section, and I see little kids sitting with their parents, being read to, and this gets me thinking about when my kids were really small. We used to go to the library once a week and gather as many books as our hands could hold. We would be amazed at the sheer number of books and would feel incredulous that these did not come at any cost. Then we would bring this truckload of literature home and spend the entire week appreciating this treasure trove that we had acquired. Every day, we would read 2 or 3 of the books, and my boys’ eyes were constantly wide open, as their minds were being filled with new images and ideas and stories. Their faces were painted with constant smiles.

Kind of like the smile on my face as I head over to the science fiction and fantasy section of the library. How can I express my feelings when I enter this sacred and hallowed domain? I am suddenly surrounded by the greatest authors of this genre, like some kind of literary smorgasbord. I proceed to do some glorified window shopping, travelling from book to book with my heart rate at 232 as I anticipate the discovery of the perfect book. I check out promising titles, I look at the wonderful artwork they have on the jacket, I might even check out the plot summary they have on the back … but I am usually leery to do this because I don’t want to have the story spoiled.

Before long, I have 4 or 5 books in my possession, and I bring this motherlode over to a nearby table or cubicle so that I can investigate them further. Does the book suit my present mood or needs? Is it an award-winning author? If I read an excerpt of the text within, will I be impressed with the writing style and eloquence? The point is, I just can’t choose any book. I am far more discriminating than that. I do not consort with pulp fiction in any form, and I will not sully my library bag with such drivel. (Yes, I am a book snob. I freely admit it.)

I boil the book selection down to one or two books only, since I know that it will take me a few weeks to make my way through them. God forbid I sign out a book and end up never reading it. Oh, the guilt I would feel if I denied another patron the delight of a book for no reason!!

I go to the checkout counter, delighted with the success of my foray into this wondrous literary jungle. and I cannot wait to get home and find that special place where I do all my reading, whether it might be a comfy chair, a couch that allows me to lounge, or even my bed if I am particularly lazy and do not want to truly arise when I wake up.

Ahh, those were the days. There is something really romantic about making the trek to an actual library and putting in some good old work to find a good old book.

The good old days

My wife has been watching the series “Blockbuster” (which I will hopefully write about in a future blog), and it has gotten us reminiscing about the “good ole days”. As such, I thought I would reserve this week of blogs to looking back in the past, reflecting on how things were and my experiences during those times. Given my advancing age and my gradual separation from today’s technologies, I think this theme will become a lot more prevalent in my writing. I will literally be the old grandfather, sitting on the rocking chair with the youngun’s at my feet, regaling the glories of the past with statements like, “In my day …” and “When I was young ….”

I will start this blast from the past by continuing what I was talking about in my previous blog. I have started reading a book that was popular in my teens, and I have been doing so with an actual physical book, which has been surprisingly enjoyable. Having a hard copy on my footstool, with beautiful art work on the front, makes the book look so much more valuable and interesting than an ebook. It draws me in, compelling me to join it in magical worlds with wonderful characters, and I find myself wanting to read at all hours of the day. If this keeps up, I will definitely not win the father of the year.

Now I am thinking I might keep this up for the next little while (say, the next year) and continue to seek out books that I enjoyed as a youth. I have been thinking back on the most important books, the ones that I loved when I was in my teenage years, and it has been fun recollecting not only the stories (which I remember very little about) but also how I felt while reading them (which I remember more). Who I was, what my life was like, and why I needed to escape so much. I had a difficult childhood at times and books really saved me, transporting me to other worlds when mine was not so good, and allowing me to witness a character overcome great odds and emerge triumphantly. I guess I was hoping that by vicariously experiencing such successes through great trials, I might find a superhero inside of me who is able to do the same.

So, my plan is to make a list of these pivotal books and then order them online from the library. There will be times when I will have to wait for the book, being that someone else out there in Edmonton is reading it, but that will only add to the experience. Delayed gratification builds character and it also whets the appetite, making the book even more desirable and ensuring that when I do receive the book, I will be ecstatic and eager to read it.

I wonder how this will go. Will I receive these books and stories with the same delight as I did when I was a teenager, thereby truly reliving the experience and getting a chance to go back in time and be my younger self once again? Or, due to the many decades of life in between, with all the learning and challenges and failures and triumphs that occurred during my adult years, will I be so fundamentally changed that I cannot see the books the same way? And if this is true, will I still enjoy them, but on a different level, or will I see them as trite and superficial and inappropriate for a man my age? I am really curious to find out.

I only hope that if I do discover that these books are no longer amazing for me, this process will not sour my memories of them. They were important for me when I was young, and they served a valuable purpose at that time. I must, and will, always be thankful to them for enriching my young life and setting me on a pathway of lifetime reading and writing and story making.

Paper is back!

I thought that the days of paperbacks were over.

I remember when ebooks first came out. At first, I thought it was a sign of the apocalypse, spelling the end of a golden age of literature. But libraries began to change, offering not only ebooks but also emagazines. I was doing a lot of stationary bike riding at the time and I needed something to keep me occupied for hours in the basement. So, I got me an iPad and I was able to to download a large variety of magazines, all in one device, and what was cool is that the fan did not blow the pages around and require me to use elastics to hold them down. This ultimately proved to be the Trojan horse, because once digital literature was let in my life, many other forms began to flood in as well, including ebooks. I was overrun with digital literature.

The more I read ebooks, the more attractive they became to me. I was especially drawn to the fact that they were all at my fingertips, which meant I could switch from one book to another at the touch of a button. Not only that, I could adjust the background lighting and the font size, and since my age was advancing, these features would get more and more important for me as time went on. Before long, I got rid of all of my paperback books and kept only the valuable hard covers, which are basically used as decoration in my bedroom. I was a true ereader, and I figured that this would be the case for the rest of my life.

But recently, I felt the desire to read a book from my distant past, something I read as a teenager and wanted to read again as an adult. But when I went to Libby, the library app for ebooks, the ebook was not available because it was from the 80’s, which I guess was considered too old. (What does that mean about me, who is from the 60’s?)

Now I could have purchased this book from iBooks and added it to my ebook collection, but I only buy books that I plan on reading over and over again, such as the classics from Brandon Sanderson and Guy Gavriel Kay, which was definitely not the case about this particular book. So, that left me with one option: to order a paperback from the library and read it the old fashioned way.

I got the book a few days ago and at first, I felt a bit uncomfortable holding this big heavy beast and manually turning the pages. The text was a bit small, and a bit faint, which made it harder to read than my typical ebooks. When I complained to a colleague that I could not adjust the text with this book, she replied (with a twinkle in her eye) that I should hold the book closer. Instant enlargement! Haha! Very funny! Unfortunately, if I hold a book too closely, it gets blurry due to my poor eyesight, which defeats the purpose.

But my issues with the faint, small text did not last very long. In fact, I noticed a really cool transformation take place. I have kinda returned to the reader I was when I was a kid, who had a voracious appetite for new books and fantastical stories and was capable of reading for 10 hours in one day. Whether it is in the idle minutes before a meal or in the time waiting for one of the boys to get ready to watch a movie, I find myself racing to my Ikea chair and reading a few pages whenever I can. And if I have an hour or more at my disposal, I really curl up with this good book, getting cozy as I am transported to a new world with such memorable characters and fascinating plot lines. It is becoming my favourite place in the house, and I am constantly looking for opportunities to go there.

In fact, I think I will leave this blog right now and return to my paperback.

Prize Teaching

I realized today that teaching can sometimes be like prizefighting.

There are certain moments in a course, in a lesson, that I consider to be magical and powerful. As such, when I present them with passion, I expect to witness at least a modicum of reaction from the students. A twitch, a smirk, a chuckle … dare I even dream of a guffaw?

But performing these wondrous moments comes at a risk. By putting my teacher’s heart on my sleeve, by revealing these special moments and anticipating appreciation, I am opening myself up to a counterpunch … in the form of absolute silence, or if the class is particularly aggressive, mocking laughter and derision. Such things can cause deep pain if I engage in them unprepared, unprotected.

So, like a boxer who is about to deliver a powerful blow with a “home-run”, roundhouse swing, I have to tighten my abs against the very real possibility of a hidden uppercut, right to the teacher’s heart. I kid you not. When I deliver punch lines to favourite jokes or witticisms, when I exclaim the beauties of the world or the theories of physics, I clench my gut and brace myself for negative reactions of any kind. In this way, I will emerge unscathed if things do not go well.

This is strange thinking for me, since I am the kind of person who takes risks, who shoots for the Moon and to hell with the consequences. But I have been hurt a bit too often in the classroom. The students are not evil … no, not at all … but they are kids and they are not aware of the power of their apathy or negativity.

So, as I continue to teach with passion and periodic wit, I will continue to keep my core tight and stay ready for counter-blows. When I retire, I am going to have a serious 6 pack!

The circle of teaching life

It should have been an ideal class. I taught the content clearly, and inserted just the right amount of challenge to keep even the brightest engaged. I even attempted a demonstration that makes me nervous – balancing a coin on the hook end of a hangar and swinging it in a circle – and I succeeded. One student applauded and more than one wanted to try it themselves later on. Plenty of inspirational stuff.

But as precarious as a coin happens to be on the lip of a slender metal hook, more delicate was my level of temperance in the midst of teenage rebellion. When given a break, a few students decided to cut loose from my class and run amok in the hallways, thereby defying Covid mitigation, school rules, and my brittle patience. I snapped, set them straight upon their return, and ended up lecturing my entire class in my bitterness.

Not my finest hour. But certainly not the first time this has happened in my teaching life.

And here I am, stewing in remorse and shame for acting without restraint. I had condemned my students for being unruly and lacking respect, but I did not do any better by lashing out in instinctive retribution.

The scene plays in my head, over and over again, like an evil carousel ride. The vultures are circling overhead, ready to feed on the corpse of the idealistic teacher that I have tossed aside in my thirst for vengeance. No spin doctor can reconstruct this scene in a positive light.

I will return to class tomorrow, and I will resume from where I have left off, the circle of life resumed. Round and round I go, until I fall down in retirement.

Spills and Thrills

The warning came at lunch today.

I was sitting there, relaxing after a hard morning’s work, conversing with a colleague about students and teaching and life (although, is there a difference between the last two?). I was so excited because my wife had given me Popeye’s chicken in my lunch and I was anticipating the savoury Louisiana flavours as I held the drumstick in my hands.

But what I did not anticipate (somehow) was the oil. It was dripping with it as I plunged my white incisors into the tender meat, and the flavour exploded … as did the oil. Despite leaning over the desk to prevent collateral damage, the fluid that is precious in Alberta managed to circumvent all imposed roadblocks and splatted all over my work pants. Dark circles stained the light tan fabric and I knew they were ruined. To make matters worse, I forgot that I had oil all over my hands and unthinkingly, I rubbed my pants with my hands in a couple of locations. My pants were Deepwater Horizon and Exxon Valdese disaster areas. How was I to face my students after lunch in such a terrible state?

But then again, I care very little about my appearance at school. I am getting a bit old to be fastidious about my appearance. So, I shrugged and continued with my day.

There I was after lunch, at the front of the class, demonstrating circular motion. I needed a prop to hold and for some reason, I figured that my water bottle was a good choice. Not so much. I forgot that it was not fully fastened, and so when I whirled that thing in a circle, the water did what water does – flow right out of the bottle and onto the floor. (Hey, at least it was not on my pants!) The floor was now a complete walking hazard, and considering how my day was going, it seemed like destiny for me to show students the results of living in a frictionless world. So, I wiped the area with a paper towel, minimizing the risk, and lived to teach the rest of my class.

Midway through the period, I thought I would wow the class with a dramatic demonstration of a cup of water swung in a circle using a wooden platform. I showed them one complete loop, then I did many loops in a row, and finally, I even did horizontal circles with the water remaining in the glass the entire time. And yes, the class was suitably impressed – they even started to clap at one point, until they realized that this was uncool and immediately stopped. (I’ll take it!)

But when I was done, one of the students asked if they could try. I figured, “Why not?” and handed him the apparatus – then proceeded to run away as fast as possible. Good thing I did. He got the thing moving alright, and he enjoyed making the contraption do many revolutions without any spillage, but there was one problem. How was he to stop it? He clearly did not observe me carefully during this stage of the motion, because he simply stopped it. Well, water did what water does … it kept on moving and spilled all over the floor. The kids loved that demo. They always love to see disasters. Animals!!

It was a day of spills and thrills at school today. My pants will need to be cleaned, the floors will have to be dried, and my students will have to become more civilized. I can guarantee two of the three, which ain’t bad.

Weekend Vignettes

I am so baked from all the work this weekend that I do not have the energy to write a full, involved blog. Instead, I will offer you a couple of quick anecdotes that were rather entertaining.

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There we were, standing in the service elevator of my son’s new apartment complex. I had a dolly cart with two large boxes stacked on it, my youngest was carrying a suitcase (almost like he was the one moving), and my oldest felt a bit inadequate since he was merely holding a small bag. Well, his emotion was not just because of that. He was also pushing the elevator button to take us to the second floor, and the door was only jerking back and forth in response. It would not fully close.

My youngest mentioned that this looked just like a scene from a horror movie. The button is being pressed repeatedly and nothing is happening. I was waiting for a large man to come around the corner, wearing a terrifying mask and carrying a machete with blood dripping from its edge. We would be absolutely trapped. Thanks a lot, son! Way to start this move off on a positive note.

Fortunately, instead of a menacing villain, a nice lady walked by and seeing our predicament, she told us that we had to hold the button down until the doors closed. We thanked her profusely for saving our lives, but as grateful as we were, we also felt like complete idiots. Why did this not even cross our collective minds? Apparently the elevator does not go to all the floors in our brains.

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My wife thought it would be a good idea to replace all of the compact fluorescent lights in our son’s new apartment with LED lights. I switched out the ones in the bathroom with the ease of familiarity.

But my youngest son wanted to try switching the lightbulbs in the pantry room. It was a tougher job, since it was a ceiling mount and it was tough to reach without a ladder. True, we could have used the small kitchen ladder that was located in a different part of the apartment, but hey, we were men and didn’t need foolish things like mechanical advantage.

So, after removing the CFL, he reached up and twisted the light in. He was a rookie and really did not know where to hold the light or how much force to use, so he went on instinct, as we all do. And while doing so, he heard a strange click from the bulb. He instantly stopped, and brought it back out. He then handed it to me and said that I should do it – without telling me anything else.

With the pride of a father demonstrating his prowess to the son, I gripped that bulb firmly and showed him how it’s done. Only to have the bulb shatter in my hand mid-twist. I just stood there with my arm upraised, in shock and holding the shards of the bulb, waiting to see blood dripping down my wrist. Luckily, I did not get cut, nor did fragments go into my eye. Dodged a glass bullet there.

I was going to use a potato to remove the light, as I had done with broken incandescents in the past, but there was no need. The guts of the LED light were hanging down like jellyfish tentacles, and I was able to grip those well enough to twist the light off – while my son was wondering aloud what would happen if the light turned on while I did this. Yikes! Not a good time, son!!!

When all was said and done, I told my son that this must have been a faulty lightbulb. Only then did he tell me about the clicking noise. And I had to smile. My son had broken the bulb, and then gave it to me so I could suffer the consequences. With family like this, who needs enemies? Haha.