Gene Autry's Cowboy Code.

1. The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man or take an unfair advantage.

2. A Cowboy must never go back on his word, or a trust confided in him.

3. A Cowboy must always tell the truth.

4. A Cowboy must be gentle with children, the elderly and small animals.

5. A Cowboy must not advocate or possess racially or religiously intolerant views and ideas.

6. A Cowboy must help people in distress.

7. A Cowboy must be a good worker.

8. A Cowboy must keep himself clean in thought, speech, action and personal habits.

9. A Cowboy must respect women, parents and his nation's views.

10. A Cowboy is a patriot.

Overheard in a classroom at the Portland Waldorf School last week:

Mary, an eighth-grade student: "Mrs. Parecki, will this test be open-note?"
Mrs. Parecki: "Yes, this is an open-note test."
Mary: "Shoot... I wish I had taken notes."


I was subbing at PWS, and heard that exchange; for a few minutes it lifted my spirits. I had just finished the 8th grade choir, and was pretty exhausted. I do not know how teachers make it through the day. These kids were so friggin' disorderly. At the beginning of the class I tried to be Mr. Nice Fun Substitute, so I was pretty patient waiting for them to quiet down, and laughed at their jokes. A few of the boys were talking about videogames, and suggested that we sing videogame themes instead of the music in their binders, which they were tired of. I said "No; besides, I don't know any of the new tunes, only the old classics like Mario." Why oh why didn't I just say "No?" Of course the kids say "We like Mario. Can you play it?"

"Yes, I can play it."
"Will you play it?"
"No."
"Pleeeease?"
"No. It's time to sing. Open up your binders."

At this point, a troublemaking tenor on the end actually reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. He waived it at me. "I'll give you a dollar if you play it." Flying Spaghetti Monster help me: I can't believe it, but I was tempted. Especially when a few of his classmates joined him in the bribery. Three whole dollars just to play a little Mario--

"No, no, no. Open your binders." But I had lost them. For the rest of the class, they were terribly misbehaved. Finally, with about ten minutes left, at my wit's end, I told them, "If you quiet down and sing this song one last time, I will play the Mario theme for you and let you go." I felt like such a whore. But it worked. As they put their binders away, I strolled to the piano, and played it, in C major. They all gathered around me. I played for about a minute, and wrapped it up suddenly -- "Okay, that's it." And they all cheered. I felt, for a second, like a rock star.

I had a 45-minute break (during which I heard the above exchange about open-note tests) and headed back out to sub for the 6th grade choir. Somehow, they were ten times worse than the 8th graders. The 8th graders, I think, were just excitable and distractable, and I didn't take it personally. But there were some 6th graders who seemed to have it in for me. The way they looked at me like I was the evil bossman, the way they lied to my face about knowing what measure we were on, the way they thought I couldn't see them poking each other and joking around in my periphery... it was infuriating and heartbreaking. Seriously. I never yelled. But I was Mr. Angry Hardass Substitute. I felt awful for the half of the class that was perfectly behaved. To any of them who read this blog: I'm sorry.

The Indian Ocean is my face.