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Children, Period, and Run: İAL Phillip Timothy Yesterday at 03:22 Next Tuesday we will have an "active shooter" / intruder drill at our school and I will hunker down behind flimsy wooden cabinet doors with my students You see, we open the cabinets and hide behind the doors so that anyone peering into the classrooms will not see us, and maybe think it is an empty room. Maybe we will be unnoticed, which just means maybe he will go to another classroom In preparation, I will remind my students tomorrow that our hallway doors should always be locked, so IT an intruder shows up we can just pull the doors closed without fiddling with keys. I have assigned students whose job it is to check those doors every period to make sure we don't forget I wil try to keep the children quiet during our drill on Tuesday. It's hard. They're packed in tight behind those cabinet doors, and they talk and giggle. Because they're children. They look like young adults, but they're children I will try to keep them quiet, because we hope that this will give that illusion of an empty classroom.I will try to keep them quiet because even though I know it's a drill, they do not, and they need to treat each drill like the real thing. They must have the procedure driven in by repetition Inevitably some children will be sure that it is real, and they will be terrified Two years ago, one boy - a big hulking kid turning into a "tough guy" - broke down in tears when the administrator jiggled the doorknob to our room while we hid behind the cabinets. I will sit down and process feelings of fear and panic with at least a few students. How do we process the panic we put them through? Every time we run through these drills, we violate their trust - their trust in us and their trust in a safe, secure world. We violate their trust in the name of safety Two years ago, a PE teacher wasn't informed that the intruder drill was a drill. He panicked, and screamed at the kids to "Shut the fuck Up!" while they were laughing and joking Who could blame him? He was terrified Afterward, some of the children will talk a big game. How they would jump on a shooter, how they would climb out a window instead of staying in a classroom How they'd be a herd A few of them ask if l'd do anything to save them in the event of an active shooter. I can't answer, because although I want to reassure them I really don't know, and I don't know how to express all those complicated feelings A few will scoff and say, "Of course Mr B wouldn't do anything. He doesn't like us And I don't know what to say to that, either, other than to go back to my lesson plan. I strive to be honest with my students, and the honest answer is that l'd do all I can I hope - but the human body isn't much match for gunpowder and lead At home I will replay the drill. Did we get it accomplished quickly? Tightly? Efficiently? Are my children safe? Will they be safe? Can I keep them safe? (No.) How would I ever live with it if I lost one? What about seventeen of them? Each of these kids, awful and irritating though they can be, is a magical world in and of themself. Four years and one hundred sixty kids in, and they're still all different and wonderful and fascinating. Every day, if I am very very careful and very very patient and very very lucky,I get to unlock just a little more of one of those fantastic inner worlds. A chunk of lead, hurtling through the air, thrown by a little explosion triggered by one man's finger, can destroy that entire world. I still don't understand why I am expected to teach my children how to survive in a violent world, but my country isn't expected to make the world less violent None of these questions are academic. None of these questions are distant or political. They are meat and blood and gristle, and they are lives lived in fear for so long that my children don't know anything that isn't fear. So I really don't give a damn how important owning a gun is to you. awed-frog: The time for gun control is now.
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Best Friend, Fucking, and Jedi: Unknown to Kenobi, he was also being rigorously hunted ortured several Jedi in order to find kenobi's whereabouts, and sparing no expense to do This would work to Vader's disadvantage, however <p><a href="http://owl-with-teeth.tumblr.com/post/155400901564/roachpatrol-ghostymcspooky-soloontherocks" class="tumblr_blog">owl-with-teeth</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="https://roachpatrol.tumblr.com/post/155378219512/ghostymcspooky-soloontherocks" class="tumblr_blog">roachpatrol</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="http://ghostymcspooky.tumblr.com/post/155300744226/soloontherocks-notanotherreyloblog" class="tumblr_blog">ghostymcspooky</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a href="http://soloontherocks.tumblr.com/post/155219834426/notanotherreyloblog-thebaconsandwichofregret" class="tumblr_blog">soloontherocks</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://notanotherreyloblog.tumblr.com/post/141672735603">notanotherreyloblog</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://thebaconsandwichofregret.tumblr.com/post/138224733990">thebaconsandwichofregret</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://azumariko.tumblr.com/post/138155980468">azumariko</a>:</p> <blockquote> <p><i>he was on TATOOINE you fucking loser</i></p> </blockquote> <p>Obi-Wan can find an invisible planet hidden by a devious Sith Lord, Anakin can’t find his ex-best friend on his own home planet while the guy is still using his own damn name.</p> <p>I know we give Obi-wan a lot of shit for leaving Luke with his real surname but Anakin really is that stupid<br/></p> </blockquote> <p>the perfect hiding place: the sandiest fucking planet that anakin would never set foot on again</p> </blockquote> <p>I’d like to remind everyone again that it’s literally <b>canon</b> that Vader can’t step foot on Tatooine because the desert gets into his creaky old man robot joints and makes his suit break down</p> <p>aka the sand is coarse, rough, irritating, and gets everywhere </p> </blockquote> <p><b>i  d o n t  l i k e  s a n d</b><br/></p> </blockquote> <p>okay but what if everyone was like ‘vader, kenobi’s on tattooine. he’s obviously on tattooine. he’s been there for years. he’s just right fucking there, we all know it.’ and vader is just desperately shaking down jedi like they’re magic eight-balls and he wants a better fortune. like ‘no i don’t like that try again’. </p> <p>kenobi’s just sitting there in his pile of sand like a smug fucking bastard. he doesn’t need to hide jack shit. he went to the tattooine board of tourism and got them to print up flyers that say ‘COME TO TATTOOINE, WE HAVE SAND’ and luke is probably going to be safe until his midlife fucking crisis at this rate.</p> <p>palpatine finds vader aimlessly checking behind pieces of furniture in some shitty space motel on kamino</p> <p>‘he’s on tattooine,’ palpatine says. <br/></p> <p>‘nuh uh,’ vader says, and peers under a couch.<br/></p> </blockquote> <p>I’m DED</p> </blockquote>
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Animals, Apparently, and Birthday: Based Lubricant, 5 5 Drum Passion Lubes 3,051 customer reviews 78 answered questions About the product The Ultimate Lube Keg .Best Value Lube Pump Included xxBackyard Carnival of Death By James O. Thach on February 27, 2014 Size: 55 Gallon I'm a risk analyst for a major insurance firm, so when my wife and I were planning a birthday party for our seven-year-old, Crispin, my mind naturally turned to liabilities. We'd settled on the theme of a "backyard carnival", complete with a swing set, a trampoline, merry-go-round, and a giant Slip n Slide. So I carefully inspected the equipment for safety. It all seemed sound We have a home on a bluff overlooking the ocean. As it happened, on the day of the party our neighbors were trimming their fichus trees. We heard the sound of their wood chipper buzzing occasionally from the other side of our tall hedge. It was a little irritating, but not disruptive The party started off wonderfully. A clown we'd hired made balloon animals, Crispin eagerly opened his presents, and all the children enjoyed cake and fruit punch. The weather was mild, the skies clear. It seemed a perfect day. Then we brought out the Slip n Slide. The problem with water slides is what we in the trade call "distributed water deficiency zones", or in layman's terms, dry spots. If a child hits one of these, it can put the brakes on the fun, and send them sliding down a path of medical claims--contusions, concussions, lacerations, abrasions, whiplash, back rash, and disc impaction. And that's just for starters. From there, it's a slippery slope toward major litigation To avoid even the remote possibility of such injuries, I invested in this 55 gallon drum of water soluble personal lubricant--the idea being that the children could enjoy the slide in complete safety, then wash off in the hose before their parents came to retrieve them. With that in mind, I dipped each child into the vat before allowing them to cue up for the slide. The Slip n Slide itself performed admirably, as did the lubricant. That, in fact, was the problem. Due to the slight downhill gradient of our yard, the children built up so much speed that they skidded across the lawn and into a retaining wall at the other end of our property, with sufficient force that I had to put an end to the activity I endeavored to roll up the mat--no easy task, as the lawn surrounding the slide was itself now lubricated, and I struggled to maintain my footing. When I looked up from my labor, I grasped for the first time the scope of the liabilities I had unleashed-a horde of extremely well-lubricated seven-year-olds, hyped up on sugar and desperate for fun. I saw young Eliza Gimmelman climb onto the trampoline. She began jumping, but the pad soon became so slick that she lost all control. Her wild flailing unfortunately fell into harmonic synchronization with the motion of the springs, propelling her ever higher, until she soared above the trampoline's safety enclosure, over the hedge and into the neighbor's yard. There came a ghastly grinding sound, and I could tell from the crimson plume that followed, it would be a total loss Twins Jeremy and Mason Lafferty were on the swing set. Having attained the swings' full range of motion, they were apparently having difficulty holding on. At that point, the swings became human catapults. Mason separated on the backswing, arcing over the roof of our home toward the street beyond. I surmised from the screeching tires, car horns and screams of horror that he was also unrecoverable. A terrified Jeremy soon lost his grip as well, sailing forward over the bluff, and plummeting 300 feet down into the ice-cold, shark-infested waters of the San Francisco Bay. An open claim, but not promising The rest of the children were clinging to the merry-go-round. Having just witnessed the violent deaths of at least two of their playmates, they were no longer in the mood for fun. However, the lubricant had dripped from their glistening bodies into the central cog, allowing it to spin far faster than it was designed to, and this likely combined with other factors--their relative weight distribution, the slight incline of the ground--caused their motion to become self-sustaining, and the centrifugal force built upon itself until they became a blurry, screaming disk of human suffering. Then they began to fly off like cannon balls Martin Duckworth was the first to go, causing significant structural damage to our greenhouse. Lisa Aurelio shattered a line of ceramic garden gnomes, and Ethan Green slammed into our Audi Q7 so hard it had to be written off--as, tragically, did he. Several other children left what looked like gingerbread man indentations in the siding of our home. It was terrifying. When the wheel finally came to a stop, there was only one child aboard. As luck would have it, it was our own beloved Crispin, huddled in the center of the merry-go-round, weeping. My wife ran to him and hugged him with all the might of a relieved, traumatized parent. A little too hard, as it turned out. Lubricated as he was, he shot from her arms like a wet bar of soap, up fifteen feet in the air, landed on the trampoline, and then soared, in a half-gainer, over the hedge, into the wood chipper. Since then, I've asked myself a thousand times, is there anything I could have done differently? But in the end, no actuary table could have predicted this bloodbath. I can only conclude that this was an act of God. And that, to me, is truly terrifying. Because we're not covered for that. novelty-gift-ideas: Passion Lubes

novelty-gift-ideas: Passion Lubes

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Animals, Apparently, and Birthday: Based Lubricant, 5 5 Drum Passion Lubes 3,051 customer reviews 78 answered questions About the product The Ultimate Lube Keg .Best Value Lube Pump Included xxBackyard Carnival of Death By James O. Thach on February 27, 2014 Size: 55 Gallon I'm a risk analyst for a major insurance firm, so when my wife and I were planning a birthday party for our seven-year-old, Crispin, my mind naturally turned to liabilities. We'd settled on the theme of a "backyard carnival", complete with a swing set, a trampoline, merry-go-round, and a giant Slip n Slide. So I carefully inspected the equipment for safety. It all seemed sound We have a home on a bluff overlooking the ocean. As it happened, on the day of the party our neighbors were trimming their fichus trees. We heard the sound of their wood chipper buzzing occasionally from the other side of our tall hedge. It was a little irritating, but not disruptive The party started off wonderfully. A clown we'd hired made balloon animals, Crispin eagerly opened his presents, and all the children enjoyed cake and fruit punch. The weather was mild, the skies clear. It seemed a perfect day. Then we brought out the Slip n Slide. The problem with water slides is what we in the trade call "distributed water deficiency zones", or in layman's terms, dry spots. If a child hits one of these, it can put the brakes on the fun, and send them sliding down a path of medical claims--contusions, concussions, lacerations, abrasions, whiplash, back rash, and disc impaction. And that's just for starters. From there, it's a slippery slope toward major litigation To avoid even the remote possibility of such injuries, I invested in this 55 gallon drum of water soluble personal lubricant--the idea being that the children could enjoy the slide in complete safety, then wash off in the hose before their parents came to retrieve them. With that in mind, I dipped each child into the vat before allowing them to cue up for the slide. The Slip n Slide itself performed admirably, as did the lubricant. That, in fact, was the problem. Due to the slight downhill gradient of our yard, the children built up so much speed that they skidded across the lawn and into a retaining wall at the other end of our property, with sufficient force that I had to put an end to the activity I endeavored to roll up the mat--no easy task, as the lawn surrounding the slide was itself now lubricated, and I struggled to maintain my footing. When I looked up from my labor, I grasped for the first time the scope of the liabilities I had unleashed-a horde of extremely well-lubricated seven-year-olds, hyped up on sugar and desperate for fun. I saw young Eliza Gimmelman climb onto the trampoline. She began jumping, but the pad soon became so slick that she lost all control. Her wild flailing unfortunately fell into harmonic synchronization with the motion of the springs, propelling her ever higher, until she soared above the trampoline's safety enclosure, over the hedge and into the neighbor's yard. There came a ghastly grinding sound, and I could tell from the crimson plume that followed, it would be a total loss Twins Jeremy and Mason Lafferty were on the swing set. Having attained the swings' full range of motion, they were apparently having difficulty holding on. At that point, the swings became human catapults. Mason separated on the backswing, arcing over the roof of our home toward the street beyond. I surmised from the screeching tires, car horns and screams of horror that he was also unrecoverable. A terrified Jeremy soon lost his grip as well, sailing forward over the bluff, and plummeting 300 feet down into the ice-cold, shark-infested waters of the San Francisco Bay. An open claim, but not promising The rest of the children were clinging to the merry-go-round. Having just witnessed the violent deaths of at least two of their playmates, they were no longer in the mood for fun. However, the lubricant had dripped from their glistening bodies into the central cog, allowing it to spin far faster than it was designed to, and this likely combined with other factors--their relative weight distribution, the slight incline of the ground--caused their motion to become self-sustaining, and the centrifugal force built upon itself until they became a blurry, screaming disk of human suffering. Then they began to fly off like cannon balls Martin Duckworth was the first to go, causing significant structural damage to our greenhouse. Lisa Aurelio shattered a line of ceramic garden gnomes, and Ethan Green slammed into our Audi Q7 so hard it had to be written off--as, tragically, did he. Several other children left what looked like gingerbread man indentations in the siding of our home. It was terrifying. When the wheel finally came to a stop, there was only one child aboard. As luck would have it, it was our own beloved Crispin, huddled in the center of the merry-go-round, weeping. My wife ran to him and hugged him with all the might of a relieved, traumatized parent. A little too hard, as it turned out. Lubricated as he was, he shot from her arms like a wet bar of soap, up fifteen feet in the air, landed on the trampoline, and then soared, in a half-gainer, over the hedge, into the wood chipper. Since then, I've asked myself a thousand times, is there anything I could have done differently? But in the end, no actuary table could have predicted this bloodbath. I can only conclude that this was an act of God. And that, to me, is truly terrifying. Because we're not covered for that. novelty-gift-ideas: Passion Lubes

novelty-gift-ideas: Passion Lubes

Save