Men all have beards that grow each day
so they should shave them off, you see.
Since no water’s where most Indians stay
This barber looks out for you and me.
He sets up shop in the local streets
next to the tea and rickshaw stands
and using what he can find for seats
He goes to work with his two hands.
A bucket of water, lathered suds,
a brand new straight-edge blade
are all he needs to serve his buds
and ensure his income’s made.
A shave, hair cut, and head massage too
Check look in mirror hanging down.
Amazing what the locals can do
In this topsy-turvy town!
This isn’t the place that I go – I just took the picture from our school bus one day. Next time I go to get a haircut, though, I will bring that camera and document that adventure. Have a great weekend!
Our first Christmas-themed poem of the season, relating to events from last weekend:
Up on the rooftop, barbecuers pause
Sounds like the clitter clat of little paws
Skitter cross the guard rail with lots of noise
Little ones shriek, both girls and boys
Ho ho ho, who wouldn’t go? Ho ho ho, who wouldn’t go?
Up on the rooftop, pit-ter pat
Down through the drainpipe with a great big rat
We’d always thought that being ‘up’ in a building would protect us from rodential infestations, but apparently not. A group of us saw a rat running around up there while we were cooking dinner – hence the inspiration for this week’s rhyme!
And just for reference, here’s one that was outside our building the other day. Maybe this is what happens is a rat loses his grip and falls…
So we’ll give free verse Friday another shot: no promises on how consistent I’ll be, but since we have a day off from work I’ll take advantage of it!
Happy Birthday, Gandhi
I’d never heard the date
But over here in Bombay
There’s no school and that’s great. ..
We’ll go see famous buildings
And sightsee all around
And take our full advantage
Of a day out on the town. ..
Your face is on the money
And painted on our wall You pushed the British out of here
And helped their reign to fall. ..
The only thing that bothers me
Is that no beer is sold
Because you were an abstainer
The wine shops all are closed. ..
So happy birthday Gandhi
From all of us to you
And now we’ll all remember
The date: October two!
We had our subject area awards ceremony this week, and I presented the math department awards. While the entire event started off with a very somber intonation in praise of the importance of academics, I just couldn’t keep everything in that serious a mode.
My speech was well received, getting some good chuckles and even a round of applause from the parents. I’ve had a few students, parents, and even the superintendent ask for a copy of the speech. Math dork that I am, I have transcribed it into a poem. Not a perfect rhymer, but close enough to the spirit for the last full Friday of the school year:
Good afternoon. To more fully explain the thoughts going into the choice of students, I’ll have to rely on using some difficult mathematical terms, if you all can bear with me.
While math award choices were tougher than pi
The teachers’ opinions had no great divide.
With no subtraction at all from achievements of others,
the absolute value of the winners discovered:
Constants in class – high above the mean grade
Factors in positive growth every day
Multiplied the learning of large fractions of others
And square rooted in math fundamentals we covered.
Many variables were considered, but the greatest common factor
of the recognized students is really quite rational:
the integral role that hard work has played
in beating the curve, and getting good grades.
Falcon out my window makes me happy
Falcon wakes me up with his shrill cry
Falcon eating dead rats looks so messy
Falcon almost always soars so high
If I had some food that I could give to you
I’d give to you a taste of fresh-killed prey
Maybe then you’d make a nest out here
And sing a song to keep those crows away
Yes, I know they are technically called “kites,” but I simply don’t associate that word with big, killer birds of prey.
We have a couple (whether they are male and female, we don’t know) who have taken up shop on our building and the one across the road (in the background of this photo). We hear their screeching cries to each other, but luckily they are pretty daytime-limited, so it isn’t like they wake us up at night or in the morning. This big guy (or gal) was sitting right outside our hallway window last Sunday, very patiently letting me take a few pictures before flying away.
We are still waiting for them to start a nest and hatch some babies over by us – that would be way cooler than pigeons!
I was tired of my old city
We’d been together too long
Like a worn out recording
Of a favorite song
So one day during prep time
I surfed the internet instead
And in the overseas section
There was this ad I read:
“If you like fish in Colaba
Getting caught in the rain
If you’re way into yoga
If you love crowded trains
If you’d like Bollywood at midnight
In the bars of Bandra
Then its Mumbai that you’ve looked for
Hop your nearest rickshaw.”
I didn’t think about the slum towns
I know that sounds kind of sad
But on Slumdog Millionaire
They didn’t seem all that bad
So I wrote to the agency
And sent in my resume
And though I’ll not get my hopes up
I thought that it really was ok:
“Yes I like fish in Colaba
And getting caught in the rain
I’m not much into boring food
I take my bhang lassis plain
I’ve got to hear the rockets every night
And bang the drums every day
Swatting cricket balls for sixes
Mumbai’s where I want to play.”
I could go on with the rest of the song, but I think I’ve used up my cheesiness quotient for the week. To get another look at life in Mumbai, check out the video below. This was made by Tony Pappa of Conceptually Speaking when he came to Mumbai to make a promotional movie for our school. It was posted on Facebook to rave reviews – Great stuff!
Alea’s class went to care for stray dogs
at a shelter in downtown Mumbai.
Kids fed them and cleaned them and petted them all
to help them they really did try.
But Alea is truly a Stutz kid at heart
the reason I know this is that:
in the middle of a barking stray dog home
she tracked down and played with a cat!
The Sphinx is real old
The pyramids too
The Nile’s the world’s biggest stream.
But better than antiques
The temples and backstreets:
We ate McDonald’s ice cream!
The Stutzes have all gone to Egypt
We’ll get home tonight too whipped
To write poems unique
So wait ’til next week
This blog to be rhythmically equipped.
Not just any kind of dancing – but the Big Dance kind of dancing. Dick Vitale screaming and spitting kind of dancing. Christian Laettner shooting for the win kind of dancing. Phi Slamma Jamma, Tark the Shark, undefeated Bobby Knight, and all the other old school high shorts wearing, plaid jacket bearing, folding chair throwing dancing.
Yeah baby – Let the games begin!
Louisville, NC, UConn, and Pitt
The number one teams in this year’s bracket
Who’s gonna dance in the next few weeks
And whose team’s destined for tears on their cheeks?
March Madness is here, the pools are all set
Seems everyone’s got a little money bet
The water cooler talk is about B-Ball
And when the number one seeds are going to fall
Cinderella stories and nail-biting games
Still something ’bout the season’s always the same:
The best of times – all the games to see
The worst of times – none on Indian TV*!
OK, not really free verse, but more like “Poetry Friday.” Since that’s not really too alliterative, however, I’m taking creative license to change it. Thinking that we need a little shake up around here, we’ll be posting poems on Fridays to help ease us into the weekend.
The inaugural contribution comes from Breck, in the form of a limerick he wrote for class:
There once as a pig in a sty
Too happy to ever cry
‘Cause the oinking noise
He made with his voice
Was bright as the sun in the sky.
Men all have beards that grow each day
