The Luddites
There is a secret brotherhood at SLHS, dating back to the school's founding when the doors first opened on these hallowed halls back in 1971. It is a brotherhood steeped in history, cloaked in secrecy, and beholden to tradition. Skull and Bones? The There is a secret faction at SLHS, dating back to the school's founding when the doors first opened on these hallowed halls back in 1971. It is a sect steeped in history, cloaked in secrecy, and beholden to tradition. Skull and Bones? The Freemasons? The Stonecutters? Nope. They are called The Luddites and the aforementioned societies don't hold a candle to them.
Like I said, they've been here since SLHS opened, and that's the only way one can be included in the group today. Now they're not exactly Luddites, per say, because they don't abhor all technology—just the innovations which have occurred over the past quarter century; therefore, they might as well be Luddites. Get it?
"Dry-erase boards? Chalk and slate work fine, thank you very much. You aren't a real teacher if you don't have a little extra dusting on your clothes and person by the end of the day."
"Overhead projectors? Too complicated. Besides, if there are pages and pages to learn, then I'll just recite as the pupils dictate."
"Letters of recommendation are pounded out on old Hansen Writing Balls."
"And what in blazes is a Pow-er Pooiiiint?"
These are the teachers whose full inboxes are constantly bouncing back e-mails to you because it is too much of a bother. They keep grades in a book, which looks like a prop from an Indiana Jones movie. One of them actually has a functioning phonograph in his room. Or is it a gramophone?
For the most part, I love The Luddites. The only ones that get on my nerves are the ones that look down at you because you're not one of them. Other than that, what's not to love about them? They get to play by their own rules and don't ever have to tow the company line. They're like Jedis!
"So, I read something from the ol' movable type press about this new rage in education. Something called 'cooperative learning.'"
"Bah! That's just group work. You remember that don't you Harold? We tried that back in Nineteen hundred and eighty. Didn't work then either."
"Nope. Principal tried to implement that ages ago, but we held him off and sent him packing, didn't we? Outlasted all of them!"
"Group work! Ha! An oxymoron if I've ever heard one."
"Hogwash!"
"Excrement!"
I'm not kidding. These are the ones who walk on water. The sacred cows. You never hear a word of ridicule pointed towards them in or outside of faculty meetings, despite their apparent inability to submit grades via their non-existent computers, nor respond to a single e-mail. They never get in trouble for anything. Talk about your grandfather clauses. If I didn't respond to an e-mail from a parent, Pécan would have my head on a stake in front of the school so fast that my body would still be standing in front of my podium wondering what happened, and all because I wasn't alive to vote for Kennedy.
Now if you'll excuse me; I have to update my school assigned webpage. Hammer is threatening to have an intervention with me if I don't.
Like I said, they've been here since SLHS opened, and that's the only way one can be included in the group today. Now they're not exactly Luddites, per say, because they don't abhor all technology—just the innovations which have occurred over the past quarter century; therefore, they might as well be Luddites. Get it?
"Dry-erase boards? Chalk and slate work fine, thank you very much. You aren't a real teacher if you don't have a little extra dusting on your clothes and person by the end of the day."
"Overhead projectors? Too complicated. Besides, if there are pages and pages to learn, then I'll just recite as the pupils dictate."
"Letters of recommendation are pounded out on old Hansen Writing Balls."
"And what in blazes is a Pow-er Pooiiiint?"
These are the teachers whose full inboxes are constantly bouncing back e-mails to you because it is too much of a bother. They keep grades in a book, which looks like a prop from an Indiana Jones movie. One of them actually has a functioning phonograph in his room. Or is it a gramophone?
For the most part, I love The Luddites. The only ones that get on my nerves are the ones that look down at you because you're not one of them. Other than that, what's not to love about them? They get to play by their own rules and don't ever have to tow the company line. They're like Jedis!
"So, I read something from the ol' movable type press about this new rage in education. Something called 'cooperative learning.'"
"Bah! That's just group work. You remember that don't you Harold? We tried that back in Nineteen hundred and eighty. Didn't work then either."
"Nope. Principal tried to implement that ages ago, but we held him off and sent him packing, didn't we? Outlasted all of them!"
"Group work! Ha! An oxymoron if I've ever heard one."
"Hogwash!"
"Excrement!"
I'm not kidding. These are the ones who walk on water. The sacred cows. You never hear a word of ridicule pointed towards them in or outside of faculty meetings, despite their apparent inability to submit grades via their non-existent computers, nor respond to a single e-mail. They never get in trouble for anything. Talk about your grandfather clauses. If I didn't respond to an e-mail from a parent, Pécan would have my head on a stake in front of the school so fast that my body would still be standing in front of my podium wondering what happened, and all because I wasn't alive to vote for Kennedy.
Now if you'll excuse me; I have to update my school assigned webpage. Hammer is threatening to have an intervention with me if I don't.
- H.T. at 9:00 AM
