Things to do in Salem when there's Nothing to do in Salem.

This is that time of year when school ends, you say goodbye to people you really care about, you eat copious amounts of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, sit on your bed and cry while listening to Jimmy Eat World, swearing each song's lyrics were written EXACTLY for you.

This is also the time of year when Salem, Oregon has atrocious weather, all of your friends went back home, and you do things like watch "Hungry Girl" on Food Network, where the host says things like "You can save 35 calories by dabbing your pizza with a napkin! Who needs all that EXTRA OIL!?" And advocates turkey pepperoni by saying things like "Pepperoni is awful. You don't need it. Eliminate it from your life."

This is the time of year for change. New routines, no school, and way too much time to do that thing that you do when your mind works. Think? Yeah. You think too much this time of year. And by "you" I mean "me." Unless you do too, in which case, keep reading.

To combat this unfortunate inevitability of "thinking," I've decided to start thinking like an 8-year-old. This is really hard for me, because I haven't been 8 for 13 years now, but now that I've stopped hanging out with 21-year-olds and started hanging out in the classroom I work in, at Richmond Elementary, the transition has been pretty smooth.

For example, saying goodbye to friends can be looked at it two different ways. First, it can be really sad. Like, I'm not going to see you for a really long time. But, it can also be looked at like "I can play with your toys while you're gone, and I hope ABC's schedule for Saturday Morning Cartoons doesn't change over the summer!"

I've adopted the latter method, and so far, it's working alright.

Working with 3rd graders has also reminded me that many cliches that we use in everyday language aren't accurate.

For example, I helped a student with his multiplication tables last week, and he figured out 5x3.

In the most adorable event that has ever occured, he stood up, palms toward the ceiling, and screamed at the top of his lungs:

"Math is FUN!" He said.

"Yeah, buddy!" I replied,

"I am SMART! I DID IT!" He said.

"Of course you are. You know, you can do ANYTHING you put your mind to," I said, sounding like every teacher I've had in my entire life.

"That's not true though," he quickly rebuttled.

"I can't fly," he added.

"And I probably never will be able to," he said, almost like this was the first time in his life that he really sat down and realized this.

I tried to pick up his spirits.

"You could be a pilot, though. Or an ASTRONAUT if you put your mind to it!" I said.

"Maybe. But another thing I can't do is a backflip. I tried 3 times yesterday and landed on my head!" He said.

To which, I said nothing, because I immediately got up to get a post-it note to record this precious moment, and never ever forget it.

However, being an 8-year-old has it's complications, too. I am a lot taller than all of my classmates, and sitting criss-cross presents a great deal of pain.

Simple things like using the electric pencil sharpener, and going to the bathroom cannot be accomplished unless accompanied by an adult.

"Sean, will you sharpen this pencil for me?"

"Um...do you not know how to use a pencil sharpener?"

"No, we can't use the electric one. It's unsafe and our fingers could bleed."

"Right."

Last week, I also had bathroom duty. Which is basically code for "Stand in the hallway and make sure nobody kills anyone or pisses on the walls duty."

Bathroom duty made it very clear to me that in a group of 8-year-old boys, their bodily functions remain a very prevalent area of concern and interest for them. A topic for converstaion, really.

"Hey, how long did you pee today?"

"I went for like a minute, read "diary of a whimpy kid, came back, and peed again. For like ten minutes."

"NO WAY!?"

The more you pee, the cooler you are, and the longer you do it, the more impressive it is.

"EEEW! Hey, James, come look at THIS!" I hear from the hallway.

I really did not want to turn the corner and see what was going on, but I thought, for safety's sake, I had to.

"Doug's been peeing for, like, EVER, Sean!"

"hahahahah...it's COOL! I'm STILL going! Check it out!" Said Doug, in a state of sheer joy, cascading his urine all over the urinal, like a proud dog who just marked his favorite fire hydrant. "CHECK IT OUT!!!!"

"Whoa!" His classmates uttered in amazement.

"Okay, but we need to let Doug do what he needs to do, alright? Worry about yourself. Wash your hands, use soap, come back to class, okay?" I tried to neutralize the situation because I felt extremely uncomfortable.

"No, seriously! There's no WAY he's STILL GOING!" James said.

There were now six 8-year-olds gathered around the urinal, marveling at the duration of time in which their classmate was able to urinate for.

I have to admit, it was impressive, but I also had the teachers waiting for the kids to finish, and it was my job to make sure they were on task and not goofing off.

I am pretty sure that watching your classmate pee, and shouting words of encouragement like "Keep going!" and "It's like a WATERFALL!" would fall under the category of "goofing off."

Eventually, I got all the kids back to the classroom, but once we all got back, not even 10 minuts had passed before Doug, of all people, raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom.

His classmates looked on in amazement and envy.

I looked at him in disbelief, and he sauntered off to the bathroom, ready for another leisurely 10 minute urination. I followed him to the hallway to make sure he wasn't just wadding up toilet paper and throwing it at the stalls.

"Sean...I AM STILL GOING!"

"Great."

On my way out of the classroom, the student I helped with math earlier, said, "I know you said I could do anything...but I don't think there's any way I could ever pee like him."

"Me neither, James. Me neither."

"Or backflips. I don't think I can do those either," James added.