American athletes don't smile much

There are a few things that annoy me about soccer, as I have said, but one thing I really like is that the athletes tend to actually look happy when they score.  American athletes don't do that so much it seems.  They often look pissed off or even bored when they score.  Barry Bonds used to watch home runs soar with a look of "Oh, I need to go all the way around the bases now.  I wish I could have someone else do this part."  After winning the NCAA championship this year, the UConn players looked absolutely pissed.  It seemed like winning the game, which is generally the goal, had become an act of defiance.  Rarely do I see a touchdown in the NFL that isn't followed by someone finding a camera to scream at.  The more I've watched sports in America, the less joy I see in the players.  The joy is increasingly replaced with anger at some perceived affront.  "They said we couldn't do it" is shouted a lot, and it's not accompanied by a smile.  I actually watched a UConn player run around angrily yelling "I told you!" after winning the biggest game of his life.  This man is fortunate enough to have great athletic talent which has made him popular with just about everyone since he was a child, earned him a full college scholarship (though education is probably not his priority), put him in the center of a national spotlight, and will likely cause people to throw money at him by the millions, and he looks like he's rebelling against his oppressors. I just don't get that.  I also could do without the faux humility of pointing to the sky after every athletic achievement.  Catching a ball and crossing a line someone drew on the ground must be raised to cosmic importance, after all.

After years of watching American sports, I find it refreshing to see athletes actually enjoying themselves.  Sure, they are prima donnas diving on the ground every 5 minutes, but they actually smile when they score! They are getting paid ridiculous amounts of money to play a game, and it actually shows.  Well, not with Mario Balotelli, but with most other people. Watch the World Cup, and you will see goal scorers running to the sides grinning ear to ear, sliding on their knees, and getting buried under other smiling teammates.  That's what I want to see.  If scoring a goal in game can't make you happy, why are you playing?  Soccer, I give you a tip of my hat.  Bravo for keeping some joy in sports.  Well, among the athletes at least.  I suppose soccer fans exude something other than pure joy.

Kids are cruel

I spoke with a student of mine that normally keeps pretty quiet but was obviously close to tears.  She ended up telling me about an experience that was eerily familiar.  She's a pretty solidly Christian girl, believing all the Nicene Creed kinds of things, and it apparently puts her in a minority in this school.  It's a Christian school with Cathedral services twice a week, so I couldn't help but be a little surprised.  She said that other girls in her year, and one girl in particular, tease her quite regularly about her religious beliefs. She feels ostracized and alone, and she tends to suffer privately.  I usually just listen when my students tell me these things, as that's the one thing people need most, but I decided to share my own experiences this time.  After all, I was teased pretty regularly for the same thing, except mine was for not being Christian in a heavily Christian community.  So there we are, an atheist and a Christian, both feeling a bit alone in this community for different reasons, but realizing that both Christians and atheists can be jerks.  And both knowing that kids can be incredibly cruel.  But at least that knowledge made her smile.

Red cards, yellow cards, and pussy cards

One benefit of living in the UK is that I get to finally watch the World Cup in a country that cares about it.  Even though I hear that the ratings in the USA are higher than normal, I also know plenty of people are more interested in baseball at the moment.  Every pub here is showing the World Cup.  Every student and colleague is talking about the World Cup.  People are filling out brackets. (You see, England, this is why you need more tournaments.  Brackets are fun!) So I am watching a lot of soccer.  But I'm not calling it football.  I have my limits.

I love playing soccer.  I even like watching soccer.  But I don't love it.  I'm really trying, but there is one major thing getting in the way.  Soccer players are pussies.  Not all of them, but way too many of them.  They are world class athletes that can sprint like track stars and can boot a ball like it's shot from cannon.  Yet, if anyone comes within a foot of them, they dive on the ground and grab their knees.  Always their knees.  Sometimes, they cover their faces, too. I'm assuming it is because they can't help laughing while they roll around screaming.  The worst part is that it works like a charm.  The referee stops the game and gives them the ball for this.  No group of athletes is so often rewarded for such blatant flopping as these, even surpassing Tom Brady and a bunch of wide receivers.

I get so excited watching the games, because the action really is intense.  And then I find myself muttering "pussy" constantly as they flop.  I started talking to soccer fans here, and they do agree with me.  They get frustrated by it, too.  They say, "It's just part of the game. You can't really stop it."  I disagree.  I have a solution.  The pussy card.  If you commit an honest foul, and it's intentional or a bit rough, you get a yellow card, two of which cause you to miss the next game.  If you commit a really bad foul, like really trying to injure someone, you get a red card and are ejected from the game.  I propose we add a third card, the pussy card.  Any time someone flops while trying to draw a penalty, flag him with a pussy card.  Not only will it call people out for this style of play that is ruining a great sport, but it will give a statistic that is easily tracked.  Right now, people say "I think Ronaldo/Messi/Ballotelli/other random star flops a lot.  You'll see.  Watch."  But that's fuzzy.  Imagine if you could just say that Ronaldo has earned 10 pussy cards this year.  There is power in numbers, folks.

My rocks

I am a traveler, but I don't put pins in a map, collect Hard Rock Cafe shirts, or take a million selfies.  I like rocks as my chosen mementos.  It feels more like I'm saving an actual piece of the place I visited.  On the down side, I am pretty much guaranteed to be "randomly" selected for additional security at the airport.  Here are some of my favorites

Marble from the Greek island of Paros (2007)

This was my first travel rock.  On the epic Greek adventure organized by the Curriers and attended by the most awesome group of friends (Team Bacchus!), we took a tour of an old marble quarry.  It blew my mind to think I was walking on a really big formation of marble, because the place looked mostly orange.  I thought marble was white.  The tour guide said that the more orange the outside, the brighter white the inside, and she invited us to break open any rock (marble is relatively soft) to see.  I grabbed the first big stone nearby and hurled it at a boulder.  The thing shattered, and this beautiful shard was the result.  I thought to myself, "Not only is it beautiful, but it's marble! That's freaking Greek!"

Navajo sandstone from Zion Canyon (2010)

I mean, outside Zion Canyon.  I definitely didn't take a rock from a National Park, which is totally not allowed.  This beautiful orange stone is everywhere in Utah, and it nearly defines the place in my mind.  The orange rock and the blue sky complement each other so beautifully out there. I found this slab not far from the road when I stopped to take some pictures.

Glacial deposit from Capitol Reef National Park (2010)

I mean, outside Capitol Reef.   I definitely didn't take a rock from a National Park, which is totally not allowed. Among the miles of orange landscape in Utah, you see random black rocks that easily stand out.  They are completely unrelated to any of the surroundings and were deposited there glaciers 13,000 years ago or so.

My Blarney Stone (2012)

I found this in Blarney Castle, Ireland.  It was in the gardens.  I couldn't resist having my own Blarney Stone.

By the way, I had a much better rock from the Aran Islands off Galway.  The whole island is made of a beautiful gray limestone.  I found a perfect shard, but it ended up being way too heavy to carry all over the island.  I regret putting it back.  I should have kept it.

Chalk from the White Cliffs of Dover (2012)

On my first EF Tour to London, we were blessed with a day off to get out of the city.  I took a group (the Noones, the Seldens, Christine and Gen) to see Dover.  It was the coldest, windiest day imaginable, and these folks were just the happiest people you could ever hope to be with on a day like that.  I told them about my fondness for rocks, and they embraced it.  We found a little place littered with fallen stones, and each of us got our own little piece of the cliffs.

Pumice from Pompeii (2013)

Okay, I didn't actually go to Pompeii.  It's still on my to do list.  On my second EF Tour, we had a free day in Rome.  I really wanted to go to Pompeii, but the vast majority of the group was staying in Rome, so I was needed there.  Luckily, Sammie Johnson is amazing and brought me back rocks since she was one of the few students who took the guided tour to Pompeii.  This is volcanic rock from a city buried by a volcano.  So very awesome.

Part of the Travertines of Pamukkale (2013)

These formations in Turkey are covered in mineral deposits (mostly calcium) from the mineral springs flowing over the rocks, gathering in pools, and evaporating.  I did not break off a piece from this natural wonder, I swear.  I was actually lucky enough to find this sitting next to the base of one of the formations.  I couldn't believe my luck.  Perfect cross section.

Limestone from a calanque in Marseille (2014)
Marseille is surrounded by rock formations called calanques, steep limestone formations common on the southern coast of France.  The bright white/light gray rocks with the blue water makes such a pretty backdrop.  I went for a nice walk up into the hills, and I found this smooth, beautiful specimen while sitting down on an outcrop.

Papa Schnids

A month ago, I stole a brilliant idea from Abby and gave a good amount of thought about what I learned from Mama.  But I have been lucky enough to have two awesome parents.  Being a teacher and having worked with a lot of kids in broken families, I don't underestimate just how lucky I am to have both of them.  And while both Mama and Papa have taught me how important it is to be loved and to show it openly, I have learned a slightly different set of lessons from Dad than from Mom.

Random acts of kindness are the way to go

Seriously, my father is the master of this.  He once cooked a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and OJ for a life guard at the beach.  The life guard thought it was unusual, to be sure, but he did not turn it down.  

Doing things for others feels far better than taking things from them

I still remember bringing Tracy home and telling her to ask my father to make her a burger.  She said, "I'm not randomly asking your father to cook for me."  I responded, "Trust me.  If you ask him to cook you a burger, he'll love you forever."  She decided to trust me, and I was right.  I'm not sure which was better, the look of excitement in my Dad's eyes, or the look of astonishment in Tracy's.

Take your time. Relax.

My father does not run.  Ever.  I have never seen him move beyond a cool, leisurely pace.  He also does not stand in lines.  "I spent 5 years in the Navy standing in line for everything.  Never again."  The man knows how to avoid stress. 

Teaching takes patience, and communicating on their level.

My father does not talk down to people, and especially not kids.  That's one reason, other than his eggs, that so many people love him.  He has an amazing talent for teaching kids to tie their shoes.  I don't know how he does it, but they follow him like no other.

Always appreciate a hard day's work

My father has been a truck driver, a window washer, a janitor, and several other things.  He always got his job done, and he never claimed that any job was beneath him.  It always comes to my mind when I tell kids to clean up and some smart ass says "this is the janitor's job."  

Storytelling is an art

My father tells stories.  It's what he does.  And they are never boring.  Especially when they start with, "This one time, in the Navy, I wasn't supposed to be drinking but . . ."  I sometimes try relaying my father's stories, but they're never nearly as funny when I say them.  Damn it.  And facts are kind of irrelevant.  If I tell my father something mundane that happened in my day, he'll make up a far more interesting plot when he tells it to my mother.  

Never underestimate a smile and a positive attitude

On the night of my high school graduation, my dad was grilling burgers and hot dogs for everyone.  The boys needed no convincing, obviously, but the girls were not chowing down as much.  My father wanted everyone's arteries hardening and lips dripping with grease, so I kept hearing him say "Come on, darlin', this is the best burger you'll ever have in your life."  Before long, even the borderline anorexics were having hot dogs with everything.  Saying no to my father is just not as easy as you'd think.

Know your strengths.  Stick with what works.

My father only uses two golf clubs, a 5-iron and a putter, and he beat me every time.  He will cook eggs every morning and every night, if you let him, and his eggs are phenomenal.  He once told me "Just because someone invented a nail gun, it doesn't mean a hammer won't work anymore."  Wise words, father.  One of my father's strengths is definitely not naming children.  If my mother hadn't intervened, I would either be Jesse James Schneider or Rudolph Maximilian Schneider.  

Don't throw anything away

Okay, this only comes in handy sometimes.  I sometimes had to go surreptitiously throw something away in my neighbor's trash can if I wanted it to be truly gone.  My father has a weird desire to save absolutely everything, just in case you need it later.  I can't tell you how many coolers my father has given me over the years.  To be fair, I did need one every time.  And he is more than happy to take care of my stuff while I'm abroad.  I'm sure the 53 inch TV isn't an imposition, but the car certainly is.  Would your father wash and wax your car every week while you're away?  I'm talking about detailing with a toothbrush!  I didn't think so.  I win.

Love you, Dad.

Passing judgments on places I visit

This spring, I have really been doing what I enjoy most about living in Europe, traveling.  Prague, Paris, Marseille, Nice, and Monaco.  Next month, I'll stick pins in my map at Lisbon, Madrid, Seville, and Barcelona.  I'm collecting cities like baseball cards.  A few random notes from each:

Prague

Really good, really cheap beer.  Amazingly beautiful women.  Great architecture, and a lot of hills from which to appreciate it.  I took a nap in a park by the river.  I was very relaxed in Prague.

Paris

Paris is a lot more spread out than you might think.  The public transit works very well, but they need to sort out their ticket system.  Changing lines without leaving a station necessitated me scanning my ticket 3 times. Paris is a gorgeous city, but it really treasures looks over practicality.  There aren't many cities that can make me check my map 4 times on a single block to make sure I'm not going in a circle.

Marseille

Really pretty by the water, not so much away from it.  They build continuous benches all along the coast to make sure people can appreciate what is really an amazing view.  But damn it's windy.  I like cities where night life, hiking, and kite surfing are all easily accessible.

Nice

It's Ocean City with a lot more money.  Honestly, if you've seen one boardwalk, you've seen them all.  It was far too difficult to find a beer in the city, though.  I guess it is France.  But they do take jazz seriously.  I'm all in favor of that.  

Monaco

If you have a whole lot of money and really like showing it off, this is the place to go.  If you're a teacher traveling on the cheap with just a pair of shorts and a few changes of shirts, then you'll get some pretty pictures outside of the buildings.  They will not let you inside.  This city is built on a coast mountain range, so be prepared for lots of hills and stairs.

France, in general

Now that I have gotten out of Paris, I feel justified in having an opinion on the country, even if I have yet to visit much of the countryside and smaller towns.  It's nice, really, but Canada's better.  There, I said it. I just prefer maple cream cookies to any kind of cheese. And Canadians are prettier.