Red Belly Day

School started up again this past week. I watched with amusement as the 7th and 8th graders wandered into the building on the first day. It is as quiet as they will be all year. They were just one big bleary- eyed hoard. The 6th graders, on the other hand, came in with a different sort of look on their faces. The look was a mix of confusion and fear. They really don’t have much to be worried about. They have their own hallway and don’t mix with the older kids much at all. However, you can’t convince them that they have nothing to worry about. You see, they’ve heard “stories” about what sometimes happens to 6th graders in middle school. I can relate to their fear as I, myself, as a 5th grader getting ready to make the jump to junior high once feared the dreaded “red belly day”.

All 5th grade boys lived in fear of the red belly. The story was that 8th graders from the junior high across the street would get together two or three times a year and venture over to the elementary school to administer the standard initiation for all soon to be 6th grade boys. That initiation was the much dreaded red belly. According to the legend, the older boys would grab a helpless little elementary kid and hold him down. One of them would then lift the little kid’s shirt up and slap him on the stomach repeatedly thus creating the “red belly”. This may sound ridiculous now but let me tell you there wasn’t a 5th grader in school who wasn’t terrified of the thought of receiving a red belly. Hazing was still very much alive back in the late 1970s and early 1980s so it seemed plausible to us.

Several times during the year the rumor would be whispered that it was red belly day and we had better all watch out. It didn’t matter that nobody actually knew anyone who had received a red belly (we assumed nobody had survived) as the mere mention of this being “the day” would send scores of 5th grade boys into a panic. All the proof we needed that this was a real phenomenon was the fact that our elementary school let out 15 minutes earlier than the junior high. The reason for this, it was surmised, was to give us a head start on the blood-thirsty belly busting 8th graders. Lingerers who failed to take advantage of this head start risked being pounded. I’m willing to bet that nobody hated red belly day more than the school nurse. Without fail, 5th grade boys would become “ill” en masse and need to go home early. I wonder if that nurse ever knew what was really behind these miniature epidemics? Red belly day was also the day we all decided to run, not walk, home from school. We weren’t scared, of course, we just needed some extra exercise.

Needless to say, I never received a red belly nor did any of my friends. Of course, once I reached junior high safely I perpetuated the legend of the red belly by telling my younger brothers what was waiting for them on an, as yet, undecided date. I know my friends did the same with their little brothers. To the best of my knowledge, the legend lives on to this very day in my hometown.

As far as I know, the legend of the red belly was confined to my little corner of Southeast Texas. However, every now and then I will catch a glimpse of a 6th grade boy running down the street away from our campus for all he’s worth and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, he isn’t running for “extra exercise” but because of his fear of having his mid-section beaten on like a bongo drum.

As the 6th graders came into school this week I tried my best not to chuckle at their stuttering voices and big as saucers eyes. After all, I understand their fear. Even now, once or twice a year I will have a dream where I am running down Helena Avenue away from a pack of torch bearing pitchfork wielding 8th graders who want nothing more than to slap my belly until it turns fire engine red. Rational? Maybe not, but what if there is a list of the "one's that got away" out there somewhere? That is why,even now, I always sit with my back to the wall when we go out to eat. After all, those 8th graders are relentless.

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Classic Tune of the Week 4

The classic songs I’ve posted the past few weeks have been decidedly mellow. This week I decided to liven it up a bit. I have chosen the song “I Want You To Want Me” by Cheap Trick as my song of the week.

Cheap Trick first came to prominence in the U.S. in the late 1970s. They combined a hard- edged yet melodic pop sound with a speed and energy of a punk rock band. Their 1979 album “Live at Budokan” launched them in the realm of arena rock and made them super stars. Their hits include the singles “Surrender”, “Dream Police”, “Stop This Game”, “Don’t Be Cruel”, and “The Flame”. To date, the band has sold more than 20 million albums and was voted #25 on VH1’s list of Greatest Artists of Hard Rock.

The live version of “I Want You To Want Me” from the Budokan album is the version everyone remembers. I can recall hearing it played repeatedly on the jukebox at Ken’s Pizza after Friday football games back in my early junior high days. It is one of those songs that everybody seems to know the words to even today.



There are several versions of "I Want You To Want Me" on the video bar to the right. Avoid the other stuff that, as usual, has tagged along. I hope you enjoy it.

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Coach #6

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Classic Tune of the Week 3

This weeks’ song is the hit “Lyin’ Eyes” by the Eagles. The song first appeared on the bands’ 1975 album “One of These Nights”. The song achieved a rare double by reaching #2 on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart and # 9 on the U.S. Country charts. The song won a Grammy Award in the “Best Pop Performance by a Group” category. This was the first of five Grammy’s won by the band.

The song is a fairly straightforward story about a woman trapped in a loveless marriage to a wealthy older man. She finds herself in a miserable situation where she tells lie after lie to both her husband and a boyfriend. The song wraps up with her wondering how she ended up in this situation and thinking about a boy from back in her school days. She feels foolish for the choices she’s made and realizes that she doesn’t like the person she’s become.

“Lyin’ Eyes” comes in as my second favorite Eagles song, trailing only the monstrously successful “Hotel California”. Despite the success of the song back in the 1970s and the continued popularity of the Eagles, the song doesn’t get much airplay these days. I felt that it was deserving of being highlighted here. I hope you enjoy it.

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P.S. - There are several versions of “Lyin’ Eyes” to choose from on the right in the video bar. I recommend one of the live concert versions. Some of the other videos, once again, just tagged along. I strongly advise ignoring them.

The Dumbing Down of "Big D"

There really aren’t too many things that leave me speechless. However, I was stunned today to see the new grading policy that the Dallas ISD has approved for the coming school year. Nothing the Dallas ISD does should surprise any of us anymore but this new grading policy is a new low for one of the worst school districts in the state and, probably, the country.

According to an article written by Kent Fischer, and published this morning in the Dallas Morning News, the DISD has passed standardized grading guidelines that will not punish students for late work, failure to turn in homework, or failing tests. That’s right, folks. This year in the DISD your child can refuse to do his homework, fail his tests, miss all his deadlines, and still expect to pass with flying colors. Some highlights, or lowlights, if you prefer, of the new DISD policy read like this:

•Homework grades should be given only when the grades will "raise a student's average, not lower it."

•Teachers must accept overdue assignments, and their principal will decide whether students are to be penalized for missing deadlines.

•Students who flunk tests can retake the exam and keep the higher grade.

•Teachers cannot give a zero on an assignment unless they call parents and make "efforts to assist students in completing the work."

Isn’t that just wonderful? How great is it that only homework that raises a student average is allowed to count? Where was this policy when I was struggling in Trig in high school? Hey, here’s a question…how do you get an average in the first place if, say, little Johnny fails to ever turn in an assignment to start with?

I see complete disaster looming for the classroom teacher here. It is already next to impossible to get rid of trouble makers that destroy the learning environment. Now, if the kids are not even required to do their assignments, what are teachers going to use to keep a disciplined and orderly classroom environment? They’ve got nothing and don’t think that the kids won’t know it. I also see huge repercussions in athletics. How does the UIL deal with students that are allowed to remain eligible in Dallas who never turn in an assignment? Hey, who cares as long as our QB stays eligible, right?

The shame of all this is that it is really damaging to minority students. The DISD is less than 10% white. What DISD officials are saying is that they believe black and Hispanic students can’t do the same work as their white counterparts. They have decided to lower the standards for these kids when exactly the opposite is what is needed. I’m no fan of the Jesse Jacksons and Al Sharptons of the world but, in my opinion, THIS is the sort of thing that should protested long and loud. By having not just low but NO expectations for these kids, the DISD is only sending the message that “you can’t do it” and “we’ve given up on you”.

I fully understand many of the issues facing the DISD. I, myself, teach in a school district where the combined minority population makes up the majority of students. Often, there is a parenting malaise that is hard to overcome. Many times, school is seen as just a place to deposit the kids for 6-8 hours a day. The importance of education just is not stressed in many of these homes. That may not be politically correct to say but it is true. These factors are difficult to combat. Giving up, however, is not the answer. All the DISD has done is ensure that these kids will be asking, “Do you want fries with that?” for the rest of their lives.

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Classic Tune of the Week 2

Long as I remember, the rain’s been comin’ down,
Clouds of mystery pouring confusion on the ground.
Good men through the ages, trying to find the sun
And I wonder, still I wonder, who’ll stop the rain?

From: "Who'll Stop The Rain" by John Fogerty

The classic tune of the week is John Fogerty’s “Who’ll Stop The Rain”. The song originally appeared on Creedence Clearwater Revival’s 1970 album “Cosmo’s Factory”. It achieved a high of #2 on the American charts and, in 2004, Rolling Stone voted the song #188 on its’ “500 Greatest Songs of All Time” list.

John Fogerty has long been one of my favorite artists. His unique style and distinctive voice make him unlike anyone who has come before him or since. I actually “discovered” Fogerty during his comeback in the mid 1980s. I liked his songs “The Old Man Is Down The Road” and “Centerfield” from the album of the same name. I got even more into Fogerty and his old CCR work after seeing “An American Werewolf In London” which featured the song “Bad Moon Rising”.

“Who’ll Stop The Rain” seems to break neatly into three parts. The first verse seems to be a thinly veiled lament over the ongoing Vietnam War. The second verse, with its’ line about "five-year plans and new deals wrapped in golden chains" seems to express a sense of resignation and frustration regarding politicians in general. The third verse is clearly a reference to what Fogerty saw and experienced at Woodstock in 1969.

Hit the clip to the right showing Fogerty on stage with his guitar to hear this classic song. This video is taken from a concert filmed in front of a live audience at Warner Bros. Studios on December 12th, 1997 for what became a PBS special. Several other classic Fogerty/CCR song performances from the same concert can be seen as well.

The lyrics of “Who’ll Stop The Rain” seem as relevant today as they did in 1970. Who will stop the rain? It is a shame the question still must be asked 38 years after the song was written.

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P.S. - I don't know what the deal is with the "digital piano" videos that tagged along with these others. One of these days I'll figure out how to pull just the one video I want. In the meantime, just hold your cursor over the pictures and after a second or two the name of the video will pop up. If "Who'll Stop The Rain" doesn't appear at first just hang on and let the videos cycle through. It will pop up shortly.

Coach #5

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Classic Tune of the Week 1

I've decided to post video and/or audio once a week, or so, of some classic and nearly forgotten old songs. Be warned that my taste in music is very eclectic. You will likely see everything from heavy metal to Barry Manilow at one time or another.

I've chosen an old Linda Ronstadt song called "It Doesn't Matter Anymore" for this first week. My Dad was a huge Ronstadt fan and that is how I first became familiar with her music. So, this one is for you Dad. I hope you enjoy it.

Click the video of Linda holding her guitar to the right. That is the video I wanted to show. The others just kind of came with it against my will. Some are other great classic Ronstadt songs. Others....well, you be the judge. Anyway, if the box with Linda holding her guitar doesnt show at first just hang on a second or two and it should cycle through. You can also refresh the page as well. I hope to figure out how to zero it in to just one video later.




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Whiffle Ball Wars

As a P.E. teacher/coach, one of the activities I most look forward to during the school year is the annual whiffle ball unit. My enthusiasm stems partially from a life long love of the game of baseball. However, the main reason I love the whiffle ball unit is that it takes me back to the summers of my youth when my two brothers, our friend Erik, and I would wage many a whiffle ball war in our front yard. I played organized baseball as a kid, of course. I went from Pee Wee League, to Little League, to Babe Ruth League ball. While I was successful and enjoyed my time in these leagues, I don’t think I ever enjoyed the game more than when the four of us got together and battled with that plastic bat and ball in the yard.

We didn’t start out playing whiffle ball. We had played ball using real bats and a tennis ball in a vacant lot down the block from our house. It was really a great set up until some greedy contractor had the nerve to build a house on that lot. I still remember the morning we walked down to play and saw that foundation work had begun. This is still a sensitive topic in my family. Whenever it is mentioned, if you look closely at my brother Greg, you can see tears welling up in his eyes. Poor Erik wore black for weeks he was so upset. It is rumored that he toyed with a voodoo doll that looked a lot like the contractor responsible but to no avail. Each of us still makes it a point to spit in that yard whenever we are in the old neighborhood.

Fortunately, we discovered whiffle ball. A whiffle ball is a baseball sized plastic ball that has a lot of holes in it. It looks just like those practice golf balls only bigger. The great thing about it is it won’t fly too far making it ideal for smaller areas like a gym or our front yard. We couldn’t really play true baseball as there were only two people per team but we adapted our rules and came up with a true hybrid game. Balls that were fair and hit the ground were ruled singles, balls that landed fair and rolled across the driveway were doubles, balls that landed fair and then rolled into the street and along the curb were triples, and balls that cleared the driveway on the fly were homers. Any ball caught in the air was an out. A batter could also be put out by tagging him with the ball, or hitting him with a thrown ball, before he reached base. We enjoyed this violent aspect of the game immensely. We also had to employ the ever popular “ghost runner” quite a bit.

My brother Steve was the best pitcher. He didn’t throw hard but could make that whiffle ball dance and dart like you couldn’t believe. He would not only strike you out but embarrass you as well. I remember once taking a mighty swing at what must have been a screwball. It looked like a strike until it broke sharply into my body. You haven’t been humiliated until you strike out swinging at a ball that ends up hitting you in the crotch. That, my friends, is pain on several different levels.

We took these games very seriously. We would keep stats and standings and the losers would endure a lot of trash talking. We even wore those plastic MLB batting helmet replicas. It was probably cute for a while but it got a little embarrassing as we entered late junior high and early high school. We would keep a sharp eye out for anyone coming down the street that we knew (especially girls). If we saw anyone coming we would “take a break” and get out of sight until the interlopers passed. Despite the potential for social catastrophe that was always present when we donned the plastic helmets and went to battle with the plastic ball and bat we kept it up until I (the oldest) was a junior in high school. Were we nerds? A thousand times yes. Would I love to go back just one more time to get another crack at Steve’s breaking ball? A thousand times yes, again.

I came across two of my old plastic batting helmets in the attic a couple of weeks ago. I will admit to you that I tried them on. I didn’t have a mirror up there but I knew I looked good. For just a moment I was back with the guys waiting for that one fat pitch that I could deposit over the driveway for a homerun. Then my wife called to me from the garage below. I quickly removed the helmet before she saw me wearing it. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, I just, like in the old days, needed to “take a break”.

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Coach #4

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