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October 19, 2006

FINALLY, A SCHOOL WITH THE COURAGE TO CRACK DOWN

No more tag at Willett Elementary.

Key Quote: "I've witnessed enough near collisions."

(Thanks to Brian Andrews)

Comments

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I think that some school headmaster should be dope slapped.

You should SEE how they've bastardized dodge ball!

(Ball is now just a humungous wad of tissues...with lotion)

Great, I finally get a link posted and someone else gets the credit. Oh well.

meanwhile in texas, school children are being taught self defense moves in case of attacked by gun men.

sneaks up to remove that "ed"...too many dodgeballs to the head impairs your spellage.

I blame the Massachusetts tree hugging liberals.

Dang - forgot I AM one...

Hey! I sent this in yesterday, too! :)

Anyway, Brian Andrews? As in, formerly of WSVN? Who's he work for now?

Heck, I'll just stay home and play tag with my hamster.

I thought I recognized that name too, tropic...

*runs over to Punkin*

*tags her*

YOU'RE IT!!!!

Sigh... how about we just put them in little padded bubbles and they can 'go to school' via webcam and that way they will never ever skin a knee. Which of course would be someone else's fault.

Buncha whiners. If it wasn't for tag, I wouldn't have this nifty chip in my front tooth. Gives me character. That's what my "to cheap to go to the dentist" Dad said.

Last night, Jay Leno said that the last kid that was tagged at this school would be "it" for the rest of his life.

Ron, that's a heavy label to tag on a child. heheh. Sorry.

I blame the lawyers, who have come to see the schools' insurance policies as their own private piggy banks. Too, the idea that people can be truly responsible for their own actions any more is increasingly quaint.

My sister fell off of a piece of playground equipment, and broke her back; the thought of suing never even crossed our minds - she was doing something foolish, and paid the fool's price. (She recovered fully, but it wasn't any fun.)

Life is risk. Eliminate all risk, and you may still have a pulse, but it ain't life anymore.

I was a little wimp as a kid and I enjoyed tag -- I was more afraid of the monkey bars and that rope the PE teacher tried to get me to climb every thursday.

What about the other threats to children's safety? I remember jumping rope -- there's another one. Kids could trip on the rope! Jacks! They could scrape their hands, try to eat a jack or poke another kid in the eye! Hop-scotch -- balancing on one leg! Another chance to fall! Not to mention the religious overtones (don't know about the rest of the country, but our version involved getting to heaven -- ooooo. Might even encourage suicide!)

I'm also a tree-hugging, Bambi and squirrel-loving liberal gal, but I don't remember denying children the right to play as part of the program. To continue this rant: I keep reading articles on BBC News about the lack of unstructured playtime contributing to the rise in hyperactivity. I was one hyperactive girl (still am) and could barely sit still through the school day WITH about a half an hour daily to run around like a mad thing.

Of course, this was offset by freezing in terror half-way across the monkey bars or up the rope.
I suspect those are responsible for my fear of heights -- my parents should have sued the school!

Apologies for the soap box rant -- Had no idea I felt so strongly about playground activities!

This is in no way meant to be funny. It is also in no way meant to lessen, demean, make fun of, or cast aspersions on members of the fairer sex. Wimmen of the female gender are in large part smarter, calmer, prettier, more caring, luciouser, etc. than us guys. That being said, I'd like to give my opinion on this matter.

What in the hell are all these PC, tree huggin', panty waste, do-gooder little sissies tryin to do to the male portion of our society. You can't play tag 'cause you may get a little scratch?! Give me a (really bad word) break!! No wonder there are so few real men left in this world. You can bet your sweet little ass that when Little Johnny grows up and joins the real world he won't have some pansy friggin' "protector" there to tell all the bad people that if they're mean Little Johnny's feelings will be hurt. If Little Johnny doesn't learn to stand up for himself and protect himself he's just gonna get an ass kickin' from some dude who can't even spell the word sensitive. I'm sick of all this crap!!

Give me a rifle. I'm gonna go out and find a deer to shoot.

*hand rolls his own cigarette on the way out*

*and spits on the sidewalk*

end rant

I sit on a Health & Safety committee where we've been discussing, for 4 months now, Pedestrian Safety stemming from an accident where a student decided to cross a busy street, in the rain, wearing her ipod, against the light and got hit by a truck and killed. When I pointed out that there was absolutely no way to protect this kid, several of the people at the table gave me a "look" and muttered "Sure, blame the victim". So I politely pointed out that as much as it was a tragedy, it was the victim's fault.

So then I proposed that instead of trying to train each and every driver of every vehicle to anticipate stupid decisions of every pedestrian, why don't we just go back and retrain the kids to "look both ways before you cross the street".

I almost started a riot. Except they are academics so their idea of a riot is to strongly protest in a 20 page thesis.

My youngest daughter fell off the monkey bars when she was in pre-K and broke her wrist. Did *I* sue the school?? NO. Never entered my mind either. She had an accident. PERIOD! It's so idiotic to think that kids won't be able to BE kids!

*joins blurk in huntin' something even if I can't aim or shoot worth a f*ck*

gumballs??

/end rant

Gumball dispenser beside the door on the way in to this thread. Help yourselves.

Spot on, SN, blurk and AP. Spot on.

*grabs a handful of gumballs*

*tries to spit but can't*

oh well... *hair flip*

Oh blurk, sweetie ;-) this has nothing to do with TRUE tree-hugging PC types. For one thing, if you hug a tree, next thing you know you might be climbing it, which is probably also banned by that school.

And some of us tree-hugging female types adore tag. Even dodgeball was OK by me as a kid, even though I was the physical wimp everyone saved to last so they could murder me with the ball.

It was the supervised stuff during PE that scared me!

So please don't blame all of us liberals -- some of us like to think we still have our brains. ;-)

AmerinPars, I was that skinned kneed, busted nose, ornery little kid who would stand in front of you and stick his chest out during dodgeball so you wouldn't get hit in hopes of maybe gettin' a date out of the whole deal. I like tree-huggin' females of the woman type. They're soft and cuddly.

Somewhere North:
I've heard of blaming the victim as being something people do incorrectly... However, that's a glaring example of someone ignoring the safety restrictions already put into place. In this case, I don't understand how they can look at that and say that we need to work with the drivers instead of working with the pedestrians to pay attention to the safety measures already in place.

And as for my childhood, I have fond memories all the unsafe things we had.

AND WE LIKED IT!!!

*jumps on the geezer scooter*

I think of some of the stunts I pulled as a kid, and it makes my hair stand on end.

In particular, I'm thinking of a flooded construction pit with high walls, perfect for jumping into, and featuring pieces of rebar, perfect for impaling oneself on.

But man, did we have fun.

And mountains of pebbles used to pave the roads...

THAT was fun!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Blurk sweetie -- I appreciate the sentiment, although in my school, even during recess the girls and boys played seperately. And also, I'm afraid that I too prefer cuddly, tree-hugging people of the female type. :-O

Having played tag with spearguns as a kid, I just ignore these pathetic people. I pity the lawyer that tries to sue someone that plays tag with a speargun. What we need is more jurors with scars!

I can remember the day my brothers and I got a great idea of going down a steep hill on our bikes, making a sharp left turn, ramming into a parked car and trying to slide across the hood onto the other side. We fell off, we got banged up, but we had a lot of fun.

Plus we got an excellent cardiovascular workout when the owner of the car saw us through the window and came running out after us.

AiP, I'll say it before anyone else.

NTTAWWT

I personally broke my own personal ankle in a schoolyard game similar to tag (ring-o-levio, or ring-o-lario, depending on your neighborhood) in the sixth grade. I was taken to the emergency room, got an x-ray, got a cast with built-in rubber heel, and went home. I was at school the next day, and I was playing ring-o-levio in the schoolyard again the next week, with my cast on.

We sued no one. What mattered most is that I could still outrun the opposing players.

And I grew up just fine. Right, bloglits?

Er, RIGHT, BLOGLITS??

*aside to Canned Spam*

I agree that some people inappropriately blame victims for instances they are not at fault for. However, this seems to have now evolved into a "its never the victim's fault no matter how boneheaded the decision was" philosophy thus the 'its always someone else's fault I'm hurt and I should sue' attitude. That I take issue with. Not enough issue to burn an embassy or picket a university, but you know, a general irritation expressed via comments on, say, a Dave Barry blog.

I'm an easy going instigator.

AiP: although I enjoyed our simul and there is NOTHING wrong with cuddly females (I being one of them), my preference is of the male type.

*shakes hand* nice ta meet ya!

I was really poor, (we couldn't afford a ball - but weren't those great "pingy" school balls fun? "ping") Anyway, for fun, we'd put pennies on the railroad track - seconds before the train arrived, of course - sometimes the train would blow his whistle because we were RIGHT on the tracks - and jump off before we got hit. But there were some VERY close calls! (But we got our cherished flattened pennies! And then we'd cry because we'd realize we'd just wasted our only pennies with wich to get candy)

BUT ANYWAY!!!!! - Back then, they wouldn't have put up rubber safety nets around the tracks or slowed the train to 2 mph - NO - they woulda given our mushy remains to our parents and said - "Your kid was a moron" and that would be iT!!!!

/rant *stuffs cheeks full of gumballs*

There was only one time my parents considered suing the school. The incident was my fault (One kid called me names, I mocked him, he shoved me, I landed on my wrist wrong.), and I got nothing from the teachers. They told me to be quiet, it was only a sprain. An hour or so later when I couldn't get out of the fetal position in the classroom because of the pain, they allowed me to call my mom. Turns out I had broken it. My parents didn't bother with suing, it was my fault, mostly, and they didn't have money enough to go after the school. You should've seen the panicked expressions of my teachers when I came in with a soft cast the next day, though.

Heh. One time, my folks brought my little sister into the emergency room. Doc looked at her and said, "Wagon, tied behind a bike, going down a hill on a gravel road, towed by her big brother?"

"How on Earth did you know that?"

"I see it all the time."

Of course, this is the lawyers at work. I think recess is an endangered species.

I was a kid in the '60s, an era when, on any given Saturday (after the cartoons were over), I, my brothers, and our friends, got on our bicycles (without helmets) and rode away from our homes and stayed away all day. Total discussion with our parents before leaving consisted of: "Bye, Mom!" Our parents had NO IDEA where we were, or what we were doing, for HOURS AND HOURS on end, and, as long as we didn't come home in a police car or an ambulance, they didn't care.

I know, I might as well be describing life in the cave man days.

Siouxie: To each their preference ;-) Nice to met ya too!

Bill, I remember those days, too. Once tossed out the door after breakfast, we were only allowed back in the house for a quick baloney sammich lunch, then tossed out til supper. I have 9 siblings, so it makes perfect sense. I think my parents secretly prayed for a kidnapping or three.

Okay my turn to wax nust nistal talk about the good ol' days.

When I was in kindergarten there came a time when the older kids (first graders and such) thought it was fun to pick on me. They were bigger so I got a few bumps and bruises out of the deal. I finally told my dad about it and he gave some very good advice. "Son, when a big bully is pickin' on you and you can't whip him, pick up a rock and knock him in the head." A few days later dad got a call at work from the school informing him that he needed to come and pick up his hoodlum son. Seems dad had forgotten to splain to me that you only pick up a rock and knock 'em in the head if you had no other choice. I had been dolin' out concussions left and right. AFTER we got home and he took a belt to my butt he splained the proper time to use the rocks, or a hammer, or whatever happens to be handy when you need it.
Lesson: When instructin' your youngins don't forget the details.

That was YOU, Blurk??!

*Rubs scar above right ear*
*Hides hammer*

KEy stupid quote of the article:
Another Willett parent, Celeste D'Elia, said her son feels safer because of the rule. "I've witnessed enough near collisions," she said.

That poor, poor kid. "Son, do you feel safer now that they have that rule?"
"No."
"What did you say?!"
"I mean, yes."

Sorry 'bout that Meanie. If it helps any I couldn't sit down for a couple days after dad was finished.

I got similar advise from my fav aunt. I did fight back when needed. Once I was picked on for wearing knee braces and couldn't outrun the boy, so I got the nearest weapon (top end of a broom handle) and threw it at him. He ducked. Hit his head. Bled a littel and when crying and whining to the nuns. Nuns never blamed ME. He never picked on me again.

Now I got my kickin' @ss boots!

make that bled a LITTLE and WENT crying...sheesh..can't espelle tuday wurht a crrap!

*snork* @ Blurk. Had that similar discussion with my parents, but backwards. I wasn't 'allowed' to hit, but my mom found a letter to Dear Abby in my pants pocket, doing laundry. Mom and Dad sat me down and explained, 'OK, under these circumstances, you get to hit back.' That was one, very surprised bully, the next day.

YOU'RE IT!!!!!!!!!

runs away giggling madly....

Uh-oh. Game on.

psst...casey...next time tag a little higher, K?

My dad taught me that I should never throw the first punch in a fight. But that that did not mean I had to get hit. Bully on the bus home from kindergarten found out I'd learned that when his punch missed and mine nearly broke his nose - caught him still in mid swing so his momentum added to mine. Bus driver came back, got the story from the whole group and confirmed that he swung first. He got in trouble, I didn't - except for being part of making a mess due to his major nosebleed.

She's seen "near collisions"? You mean, "kids running past each other and no one got hurt"?

That disturbed her?

Holy mother of God.

On a side note: Boys take risks and get hurt, sometimes. They deal with it (or used to, before Hoverparenting became the bare minimum).

Years later, they get to show off the evidence of all those falls, fights, and momentary lapses of girlish judgement.

Chicks dig scars.

Thank God little Billy isn't involved in any of that dangerous execise, but I wonder why he is getting obese?

Oh, and to further illustrate the redneck born and hillbilly raised caring and compassion shown to me by good ol' dad, here are three his favorite quotes concerning minor (and sometimes major) boo boos:

"It'll feel better when it quits hurtin'"

"Don't worry son, you've got another one"

"It's too far from your heart to kill ya"

And you guys wonder where I got it from.

I got so banged up when I was younger that I occasionally forget to insert the word "of" where it's appropriate.

Those are GREAT, blurk. I think I'll have them framed and put up over my desk at home for my daughters' reference while I'm trying to work.

Whut?

Ya'll didn't get the old:

"It's gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me"?

(course I got it in spanish, with LOTS of flowery language to boot).

Nope, Siouxie, didn't get that one.
'Course dad knew it was gonna hurt me a alot worse. No sense lyin' about it.

ahh...very noble of him, blurk.

Well, I guess I'm just gonna go with "Silence is consent", then.

OK, here's a funny for the gals on the geezer bus.

The volume is very low, but essential. Sorry firewall folks!

LMAO CJ! that was too funny! That kid was braveeeeeee! I'm surprised no one beat the crap outta him.

That's funny Blurk! I can sypathize. My dad's favorite comforting thing to say when we fell down and hurt ourselves was, "Why would you go and do a dumbass thing like that??!"

Beppie, sounds like your dad and my dad mighta been drinkin' buddies.

My kids just look down at their brother, lying on the ground, shake their heads and mutter, "That's karma, for ya."

We are some real compassionate conservatives, my family.

Yeah, that was funny. Found it as part of a post [about people being offered help they didn't want] on Florida Cracker. She posts some bizarre stuff.

Because I was poor, buck-toothed, crappy clothes etc..I had 3 choices:

1. curl up in fetal position while being beaten or mocked to death

2. hide

3. be funny


Guess which one (we all) I chose?

I still got scars from my childhood. I was a large gal though so maybe my weight scared off the bullies - it was my "little brothers" who grew up faster than me (one is now 6'6", the other 6'3" - and he was my size when he was 12 - I was 18)who gave me the scars.

Well, when I was growing up back in the '60's one of our favorite things to do was to go to the swimmin' hole in a nearby creek. A railroad bridge crossed straight over it (about 30 feet) which we loved to jump off. Of course, all mothers barred such activity from our daily routines. So, we just did it nekkid. (No tell-tale wet clothes). It came to be called "Bare A$$ Beach". Lookin' back I'm just glad my dangly bits hadn't started their journey through puberty yet so they weren't that dangly. A few busted heads once in a while, though.

Yeah, I have come to the conclusion that is what God intended "little brothers" for. I have two of them myself.

*Looks at scar on the back of his heel*

You gals just didn't have a handy tent-pole to hurl at your l'il brothers. Or the metal folding chair she golf-swung into my dangly bits. Of course, I did stab her with a screwdriver, but...

Dang, no one has visited here in awhile. Brief funny remembrance. I went to an elementary school deep in the hood where fancy names like 'Smear the Queer' weren't used. There, it was called 'Man Get.' The horrified staff finally tried to put an end to it. Big Ole Ms. Galloway stood all the boys up against the wall and tore us a new one. She said 'Man Get, Man Got, Man Go Under. I ain't havin' no mo' o' that.' So we just found a field next to the school, instead. Simple fact, if you were a boy growing up around there and couldn't hold up in Man Get, you sure weren't gonna make it home on foot. You didn't have to be good, you just tried to survive, then every other guy would look out for you. I imagine that school uses Ritalin to tame the boys, now.

In Memoriam:

Dodgeball
British Bulldog (and the variation Tackle British)
Red Rover
Gator Gator
Super Ball (and the variation Tackle Super Ball)
Smear the Queer (oh, so un-PC)
Blob
Tag
Sliding on the Ice
Hiding behind the Kissing Tree
Statues
Evil Kneivel (jumping other kids on a bike)

Huh. Perhaps I just had a geezer epiphany [it may have been a stroke]. I used to love to go out dancing, before the age of the mosh pit. Now I hate rowdy bar crowds. These Xers and Yers just don't get what rain means. When I started college with 36,000 other students from all over, they knew what rain meant. Hundreds of kids gathered in the low spot for the Guinness record attempt at world's largest game of Smear the Queer. On average, nobody seemed to feel the need to carry on that way at concerts or bars. Double huh.

I was hoping they were banning Tag deoderant and all commercials related to it.

The bright side is, none of us in jobs requiring mental or physical toughness has to worry about members of "Generation Wuss" ever taking our jobs. I always laugh at our engineers straight out of school that can't make a decision because they discuss it to death in committee.

Allow me to offer rural upstate SC kids games of the early to mid 80s...

At school...

Kill the man with the ball (The fun part was giving the ball to a kid you didn't like)
Jumping of the monkey bars
Balance beam wrestling (Lost a tooth, but not a permanant one.)

Away....

The Fox Creek Booby Trap Wars in the woods between 2 neighborhoods
15 foot falls on to boards with rusty nails
Buckets of rocks connected to rope ladders
BB gun mock battles
Shooting arrows straight up in the air
Bicycle Chicken(problem was, nobody swerved)

Total injuries

4 broken arms
2 broken noses
1 concussion
numerous sprains, pulls, cuts, abraisions

And I REALLY miss the fun we had.


Matt, that was fun. That was boyhood. Except we had a neighbor that really would pin us down with a BB gun, but he was from a rich family and had CO2. [revenge came later]

The 15-foot fall/ boards full of nails thing I never saw on purpose, but I spent the afternoon with my cousins at Uncle Duff's house. We went out in the backyard, climbed up on the garage building way out back and my cousins showed me how to swing off from a really long-roped rope swing from a post oak. It would not be an exageration to say 100-feet to the branch. When I tried it, never having pinned down centrifugal force, I didn't realize what would happen at the other end if I wasn't properly positioned in the seat. I landed in a pile of lumber, full of nails and my cousins ran and found Uncle Duff. He came out and pulled me off, dabbing spurts with his handkerchief and said, 'oh jeez now you're gonna tell Uncle Roy.'

Didn't, but did ask Mom about my most recent tetanus shot.

Tropic et al,

Nice to meet y'all. I just saw that my submission got posted. Hooray, first time! Don't know who the WSVN guy is or who he works for now. But I'm a pastor so you might say I work for Jesus.

Welcome, Brian and congrats.

Heh. One time, my folks brought my little sister into the emergency room. Doc looked at her and said, "Wagon, tied behind a bike, going down a hill on a gravel road, towed by her big brother?"

"How on Earth did you know that?"

"I see it all the time."

i worked in day care. meh. everything was against the rules. running and jumping were frowned upon.

oy vey, you should see the things kids come up with. it's a miracle we're all still livin'.

Tag? They are outlawing TAG? Sheesh. When I was a kid, we used to play a friendly little game we called "KILL THE GUY WITH THE BALL." I'm guessing that wouldn't go over nowadays.

Now, I'm not saying i've ever been a big fan of, let's say, dodgeball... (I played with the type of kids who would deflat the ball for extra "oomph".) But tag, hide & go seek tag was what kept half my neighborhood entertained when I was younger. And it certainly wasn't the most dangerous thing we did.

hmm.. let's count..
Jumping off the 13th step to land on a couple of couch cushions. (lucky we didn't bang our heads on the ceiling)
McGovern Turn - Rideing things on wheels down an unspeakably dangerous hill and crossing a oneway blind turn at the bottom at 40 miles an hour. (oh, the near misses.)
Playing by a sewer grate.
Swimming in a rather poluted dangerous river/creek. Spent A LOT of time at that river.
Rough Housing in general.
Playing in the woods, by the train tracks.
etc, etc.

Seriously... tag was our safe sport.

So, Matt... you have four arms and two noses? This I gotta see.

blurk-
My Granny's line was, "Don't worry, it'll get better by the time you get married."

My most dangerous adventure was attempting to ride my bike up this steep mound of dirt at a neighborhood construction site. I didn't get up enough speed and flipped off of my bike backwards. Split open the back of my head, but I never admitted to my mom how it happened. She wouldn't have been happy or sympathetic!

Eh, late, but worth it. (At least, I hope I am)

When I was about 9, there was a construction site near my house. There was a large hill made of dirt that had been removed from the site, and my dad and I rode our bikes out to it. One side had a nice slope we could ride up, but the other side was almost a sheer drop (70-80 degrees). When we got to it, I asked if I should try to ride down it, and the response I got was "If you want to." Needless to say, it didn't end well, but I survived.

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