"Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh Baby"

This morning I received a call to teach a language class full of twenty-two eighth-graders at the middle school. It was my first opportunity to teach at the middle school and I was not disappointed with the experience. First of all, I arrived at 7:30 as I was supposed to, but I was informed later that I would have an extra hour and a half of prep time (8:00 AM-9:30 AM). Lucky eh? So what did I do for that hour and a half? I decided to read a book (Note: This is the part where you ask me what book it was). What book was it? you ask. Thank you for asking. This will actually be my book recommendation for the week.

Intermission/Book Recommendation

The book was written by Ray Bradbury and it is called Fahrenheit 451. Now, I have not yet had a chance to finish it, but it was originally recommended to me by a teacher of mine, and after having read about sixty pages, I think I feel safe in recommending it to you.

Plot Summary: Guy Montag is a fireman. That's not so unique, you say. Lots of people are firemen, and I don't want to read about them. Well, this is slightly different. You see, Guy is a fireman who starts fires. That's right. Starts them. So, he's an arsonist fireman? Well, that's sort of like the one guy in the movie Backdraft, isn't it? Yes, but you have to understand something. In Fahrenheit 451, all of the firemen do this. It's their job. They're paid to start fires. Instead of water, their hoses spray kerosene on houses, which are then lit on fire. Gasp. Why, that's inhuman. Of course, it makes more sense if you realize that they only burn the houses belonging to people who have books. Yes, books. They're burn books because their society is a censoring type. The government's weapon for creating a society wherein people are all equal is the removal of volumes continuing information which might lead to unrest within and between classes and social groups. And Guy believes in the society. Until one day he meets a seventeen-year-old girl named Clarisse, who has the audacity to question.

End of Summary/ Conclusion of Story

The class itself was quite entertaining. Public school classrooms house all types of people, mixing them together like pina coladas and expecting them to learn something. The most amusing part of the day came close to the end when one girl raised her hand and announced that she would like to know what my first name was because she and her classmates were having a really big argument about what they thought it might be (She also announced that I looked like a Bob to her). Somewhat shocked by the announcement, I asked the class if there were anyone in the class who agreed with that statement. Two others raised their hands. So, now we know the truth. Three people in the world today think I resemble a Bob, and one thinks I look like a Jeremy. I strongly disagree, as do the other 19 students in the class, but, hey, what do we know about it?


One of the boys later asked if I were married. Not sure why a boy was asking me about my marital status, but once again what do I know?

Me: No, I am not married.

Boy: So, you're a...bachelor?

Me: Yes, I am an unmarried man and therefore a bachelor. Class, the fifth word on your vocabulary assignment will be bachelor.

Boy: Really?

Me: No.


I later walked by that boy's desk, and I was amused to hear him singing under his breath, "Baby, baby, baby, oh baby, baby, baby, oh baby."

Me: That's a Justin Bieber song, isn't it?

Boy 1: Uh-huh.

Me: Justin Bieber is the worst musical artist of all time.

Boy 1: Yeah, he is. (turns to his friends) See, I like this guy.

Me: I mean, after all, how hard do you think he worked to write that song? Oh, let's see, I need something catchy and witty for the chorus. How about I just repeat the same word over and over and over and over and over? Let's see. What's a word I could do that with...I got it. Baby is a great word. But how many times should I say it? Three is probably about enough for a line, and each chorus ought to have four lines...let's see...three times four...carry the one...sure wish I'd stayed in school instead of trying to make it as a musical artist..hey DJ, how much is 3 times 4? Oh yeah, twelve, my age when I had my first smash song; I'll have to remember that. Also, the year my voice was supposed to change and it didn't. Well, like, cool yo.

(At this point, the boys in the class join in the ridicule)

Boy 2: He looks like a girl, sounds like a girl...he's a girl.

After the remarks ceased and most people returned to their work, I continued discussing, in kinder terms, the subject of music and the difference between Justin Bieber and music from decades ago. The two boys and two girls with whom I discussed seemed to comprehend my idea that the difference in quality has to do with the emphasis of the artists today, namely that music used to be about message and having something to say. Consequently, lyrics used to be the primary part of the music, and melody second. Now, the music takes precedence over the message because people don't listen to the words anymore; they only want to dance and feel the rhythm of the songs. Curse you, Footloose. You made everyone want to dance, and now Justin Bieber prospers, rather than musical groups and artists like The Guess Who, Led Zeppelin, or even Roger Miller, that genius who kindly informed the listening public that "you can't go fishin' in a watermelon patch," and "you can't take a shower in a parakeet cage," and "you can't drive around with a tiger in your car" (from Roger Miller's "You Can't Rollerskate in a Buffalo Herd"); now, such quality bands are condemned to obscurity found in the dusty annals of music history.

Finally, I looked at the one girl at whom the students' comments about Justin Bieber had been directed.

Me: So, do you like Justin Bieber?

Girl (brightening somewhat): I'm married to Justin Bieber!

Of course, I congratulated her on the union (which apparently had taken place a year and a half prior) and said I hoped it would work out for them both eventually.