GUEST ARTICLE...
by Keith Thompson
Battered Men: Research
Reveals A Secret Side To Domestic Violence - Women Are Doing The
Abusing, Too
When I
first heard the phrase “male victims of domestic violence” I rolled my
eyes. My mind served up an image of a sniveling bully with a bandaged
hand wishing he’d had the presence of mind to pound his wife’s head
with an ashtray instead of his fist. But the men I encountered two
months later weren’t perpetrators; reports of police and prosecutors
made that obvious. Yet neither did they describe themselves as
“victims.” This greatly surprised me, because the accounts I heard
that day were nothing if not anguished: an auto mechanic whose fiancée
pushed him down a flight of stairs, causing a concussion; a teacher
whose wife went to jail after stabbing him with a coiled coat hanger
and leaving her teeth marks on his leg; and a 40-year-old insurance
broker whose wife kicked him in the groin, propelling him through a
sliding glass door.
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GUEST ARTICLE...
by Glenn J. Sacks
The 'Boy Parent Dilemma'
Modern
schools are not suited to boys' personalities and learning styles.
This can be seen from the time boys enter school, when many of them
are immediately branded as behavior problems. The line of 10 kids who
had to gather every day after school in my son's first grade class for
their behavior reports--all boys. The names of kids on the side of
the chalkboard who misbehaved and would lose recess--all boys. The
kids as young as five or six who must be drugged so they will sit
still and "behave"--almost all boys.
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JEFF'S LIFE... monthly
column by Jeff Stimpson
Appointments With Destiny
We're doing one appointment a month. When
Alex first came home, we used to do no more than two doctors'
appointments a week. More than that and Alex used to get frazzled;
throw in the inevitable "The doctor's running late," and we'd wind
frittering our days flipping through People while hoping no
ambulatory kid tripped over Alex's tubing in the waiting room. More
appointments than that and we got ragged -- as I discovered one wintry
afternoon in December of 1998, when, on the way to our fourth
appointment of that week, I looked down to see Alex's tubing unhooked
from the oxygen tank and dangling in the slush.
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COYOTE...
monthly column by Dick Prosapio
Selling Cars and Other Masochistic Acts
Right next to the threat of a
colonoscopy I hate selling cars. You wouldn't think so to look at my
record. I've had about half a hundred of them since I was a teenager,
trading for fantasy or reality. From Buick's to Toyotas, domestic to
foreign. Passenger, sports, big trucks, light trucks, gas and diesel,
I've owned them all. In every case, while I had them I made them
better than they were when I got them. In every case, I lost money
when I sold them.
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