rms

I used to think rms means "root mean square."

Now, thanks to my teacher Nick C (Year 10), I know it means: Richard M Stallman.

The man is a genius, pure and simple. He is one of the most prominent, capable, and thoughtful computer programmers in the world.

But really, he is not famous for being a programmer. He is famous for being a political activist -- a campaigner for human rights, democracy, and that sort of thing.

Last night I had the opportunity to meet him, chat with him, and listen to his talk. He pointed out some things that were so obvious, I couldn't believe I had not thought of them before.

For example, if you have a computer program, and your friend says "Wow! that computer program is cool -- can I have a copy?" It is your DUTY to give that friend a copy.

Just like: if someone falls into the pool, and yells "Help Me! I'm drowning!" and you know how to swim, it is your DUTY to jump in to help.

Unless that person is Bush.

OK, maybe I'm being a little extreme . . . . . . . . there are other madmen in other countries who would also not obligate you to jump in.

Electrocution

Back in the country house now. We passed a big elephant on the way.

The Thais love their elephants. A couple of years ago, an elephant got stuck in an electric fence and died. The farmer, who set up the fence to keep elephants out, was tossed into jail!

When we drive up we often see elephants. I'm not scared but Poo is terrified, especially of this one giant elephant with a broken trunk.

"He is a wild, angry elephant who always want to attack! Sometimes elephants get like that," she says, "you're the Science teacher--look it up!"

I think she's right. Allegedly he broke his tusk by attacking a truck.

So, when we saw the big elephant, I was relieved to see two full tusks.

"Oh, the big, scary elephant with the broken tusk died already!" said Poo.

"Really, how?"

"Electrocution. He got stuck in an electric fence."

"Again? Did they throw the farmer in jail, like they did to that other farmer?" I asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because that other farmer built an electric fence to keep the elephants OUT, but this farmer built an electric fence to keep his cows IN."

Pit Term

Now the boys are off school, for a month's holiday. We call it "pit-term".

On Saturday, we had family sports day at Thun and Jason's school.

"Dad, will you come?" asked Thun.

"Of course!"

"Good," he said, "bring your tennis shoes, your black shorts and your red Arsenal shirt."

"WHAT?" I gasped. "Do you seriously mean I HAVE TO PLAY?"

Sure enough, there was a team for the fathers, janitors, electricians, and other men associated with the school (In Thai schools, the teachers are women). The other team was from the State Railways of Thailand and suited up in fancy white kits -- they looked like Real Madrid. We had to line up in the tunnel (just like TV), parade onto the concrete playing surface in front of 200 cheering wives and children, and exchange banners. I was a head taller than everybody else.

I started on the bench. Soon I realized: uh-oh, these guys are good--I'm going to make an ass of myself! I was probably the oldest guy in uniform, and I was certainly the crappiest.

Typically Thai, there was dance music and a play-by-play commentary booming out of speakers the size of trucks, and we could barely hear the whistle. The commentator kept groaning oh-hoooaaaah! as we missed goal-scoring opportunities. In the second half, I finally went in. Every time I got the ball, Real Madrid attacked me like a bunch of sharks--they realized I was a weakness. I made one or two good passes but usually I just lost the ball.

Finally, I made a good run and a teammate spotted me and passed the ball to me in a scoring position. All I needed to do was kick the ball past the keeper and into the net! I swung my leg to kick the ball and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . missed the ball!

Dr Wiest

I received this funny message from a student:

Isn’t it about time you changed the description of your
blog?

“a mathematics teacher at an international school tries
to find ten minutes of peace during a hectic day” to
“a mathematics/history/TOK teacher at an international school tries to find ten
minutes of peace during a hectic day”

No, I don't think so, because I started as a mathematics teacher, so it is first in my heart.

However, I started in Thailand as a science teacher, and now I'm trying to get as far away as possible from viruses, sulfuric acid, and high voltages. My goal is to next become an art teacher, then a PE teacher, and finally a House Leader! Just kidding.

At college, I received A's in Calculus. My Calculus teacher, who was also my physics teacher, Dr. Wiest, then gave me a job being a Calculus tutor, running the"tutorials" and "recitations", so that's where I got my start. One day, in Physics Lab, we were working with excited gases, and the instrumentation said "DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE!" in about 15 places. Idiotically, I grabbed a metal tray with one hand while my other hand was removing a gas tube from the high voltage instrument. Thousands of volts ran through me and I felt terrible pain. I went running up and down the hallway screaming:

"SHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT!"

That night I couldn't sleep because I felt so much pain in my teeth. The next day I went to the Dean of Students, and said:

"I want to change my major."

"To what?"

"English."

"Why?"

"I want something safe."

The Dean of Students told me to wait 24 hours before filling in the paperwork. The next morning Dr. Wiest talked to me, and persuaded me to stay in Physics. There were many reasons, but one good reason was this: I could keep my job teaching Calculus, which I loved so much, and which provided me with money I needed to stay in school.

Generation Gap

Sometimes I listen to old people -- people who have lived through a war, and they complain:

"this young generation is so spoiled -- all they care about is their computers, cars and TVs -- they don't understand that there is something more important in life."

I think I agree with them, but I also listen to the young people: "that old generation -- they are living on memories -- we don't care about war --there are more important things in life -- have you seen the new Megan Fox video?"

Back to the Salt Mine

Lately I've been so relaxed -- so enjoying life.

Of course, family life is not without disputes, and I've been irritable at times, too.

But now: reality is sinking in. It is time for me to go back to work. Soon I will be slogging away at 11 or 12 hour days. I wish I didn't have to work; or, do I really wish that? Actually, I like being a teacher. Class is usually fun and it gives me something to think about. I'm thankful that I'm not a manual laborer -- digging salt out of the earth, in perpetual repetition.

But for now: it's back to the salt mine!

You gotta draw the line somewhere

We are raising our boys to be Thai. They go to a Thai school, they respect their teachers, they wai their elders, etc. In fact, the household is Thai. We have a picture of the King (only the Buddha can be higher), wet bathroom floors, etc.
When we bought a new truck, we took it to the wat to get blessed by the monks, and the abbot finger-painted all sorts of Buddhist swirly things into the new cloth.
Upon hearing that, a British friend told me, "You're crazy -- I won't let 'em into my truck -- you gotta draw the line somewhere!"
Sometimes I have to grit my teeth. When I realized that both my boys like to eat fried insects, I decided just to grin and bear it.
Tonight we were eating at a pizzeria. Jason picked up the ketchup squirter, used both hands to swing it upside down, and aimed it at the middle of his slice.
"NO JASON!" I shouted. "YOU DON'T PUT KETCHUP ON PIZZA!"
You gotta draw the line somewhere!