Suzanne Rice

Aug 16 2023

Off to War – A Break in the Action – 1972

The morning after we stymied the planned enemy assault on our district headquarters, thanks to the available support of the US Air Force, an assessment of the situation was necessary. The cluster bombs that the A37 Dragonfly had scattered above the enemy force to the south of our compound could be most devastating. Consequently, just after daybreak, the Vietnamese sent out a patrol to recon the previously bombed area just outside our perimeter. As I was on the radio with higher headquarters, I refrained from joining them, awaiting their report upon completion of the patrol. My coordination with headquarters involved preparing for the arrival of elements from the 18^th ARVN division, which had been dispatched to counter the province-wide hostile activity of the enemy forces. The majority of the 18^th RVN had been dispatched earlier to An Loc to the west of Saigon to counter severe coordinated enemy attacks at that location.

Upon the return of the patrol, I was briefed through my interpreter that while they found no bodies or equipment, there were numerous blood trails and signs of things being dragged away – more than likely enemy corpses. Evidently, they had their own version of “leave no man behind”. I passed this information to higher headquarters and began reviewing written reports that my translator had prepared from Vietnamese Intel documents. These reports confirmed that the enemy had infiltrated several villages and hamlets in my district and the rest of the province. Removing them would take quite an effort, but the increase in friendly troops, who had more experience and were better trained than the Regional and Popular Forces, would make success more likely.

And during this whole adventure, there was this unconscious nagging in the back of my mind, that it was quite possible I wouldn’t be able to take R& R. I couldn’t begin to imagine how traumatic it would be for Jo to arrive in Hawaii trying to link up with her husband and not finding him. The worst part of it was that there was no easy way to even alert her to the possibility that I wouldn’t be there. In theory, I could meander through USO channels or perhaps the Red Cross. However, with more pressing issues at hand I wasn’t able to spend a lot of time on speculation.

As the first elements of the 18^th RVN began moving through my district, I was immersed in bilingual coordination to include talking to the 18^th’s US advisor, call sign Buffalo 6. Once the lead elements passed the district compound moving in the direction of the National Police Headquarters (NPHQS), they met heavy resistance, and the advance stalled in place. After some discussion among all the players over radios and through interpreters, Vietnamese air support in the form of A1E Skyraider aircraft arrived.

**South Vietnamese Air Force – A1E Skyraider** (Alamy.com)

The ordinance carried was several Mark 82 500-pound bombs. The ground shook and the noise was overwhelming when they hit. Once the bombing runs were completed, the Vietnamese forces slowly moved out and began checking the rubble of what once was an intact village. The logic to justify the destruction of so many homes and buildings was that the US would rebuild them as soon as practical.

The devastation was such that the enemy effort was thwarted in place and they promptly withdrew. Surprisingly, within a few days, things were more or less back to “normal”. Amazingly, the timing was just right. I checked with my boss, the Province Senior Advisor, LTC Giac Modica (who coincidentally had been a first regimental Tactical Officer while we were at school) regarding my R&R, and he authorized me to put the wheels in motion. A few days later, I was on my flight to Hawaii.

Jo had made arrangements for a rental car and a room at the Honolulu Hilton, and by the time her flight landed I was there to greet her. We made our way to the hotel, got settled in and initially just relaxed, somewhat worn out from our multi-hour travels.

When we first started planning our “together time” for R&R, we made a list of “must do” events. Two of them included watching the original Hawaii 5-0 TV show, and visiting the Hawaiian surf Mecca of Waimea Bay, “where the best surfers in the world come to stay” as noted by Jan & Dean in their 1964 top 20 hit, Ride the Wild Surf, where we could get surfing lessons and “hang 10”. We were able to do the first at the officers’ club bar at Fort Shafter, but the second was more elusive. It turns out that because of geography and the weather, the May-June timeframe is the worst time in Hawaii for surfing and getting to “conquer those waves some 30 feet high”. The surf instructor apologized for the waves but did provide me sufficient instruction to allow me to stand up on the board for a few minutes without falling over. Throughout our stay we played the role of awestruck tourists, seeing the various sites, enjoying real food (for me) at class restaurants, soaking up the sun and just being together. When the time came for us to go our separate ways, we consoled ourselves with the realization that my tour was more than half over. Since on my return trip, we crossed the International Date Line, I‘m actually 12 hours younger. However, I did manage to scare Jo the first night we were at the hotel. We had just bedded down, when a car in the parking lot backfired. I was out of the bed, on the floor grabbing for my weapon and flak vest trying to stuff myself underneath the bed frame. Rather calmly, she said “It’s all right honey. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Even to this day, I startle when I hear a loud noise. Nowadays, it’s called post-traumatic stress disorder – PTSD.

After a week of R&R, I returned to Vietnam and rejoined my team. The tactical situation had settled down somewhat, with both the Vietnamese and the US making some adjustments in response to recent events. Eventually, during late summer, the district teams were withdrawn back to the province headquarters as had been done originally, and we continued to complete our mission based on that structure. By the end of summer, the North Vietnamese effort was contained, but with the situation being what it was, none of us got a drop – reduced tour. In fact, based on return transport availability, I wound up spending one more day beyond a year on my tour.

There are two events of my tour that I still remember; one occurred when I was in the middle of conducting an airstrike, when over my radio came the call, “Hawkeye27, this is (garbled) 79. What is your status-what’s going on? While one of our team advisors had the call sign Hawkeye 79, I didn’t recognize this particular call. Additionally I was too busy. When I didn’t immediately respond, the radio said rather testily, “this is Danger 79 give me a SITREP (situation report) ASAP. Since I didn’t recognize Danger 79 and I needed a clear channel, I responded, “this is a tactical frequency, get the ‘heck’ off of it and use the admin frequency.” It wasn’t until much later, I found out that call sign Danger 79 belonged to the Third Regional Assistance Command (TRAC) commanding general, James Hollingsworth. I was never counseled about my directive to “get the ’heck’ off my tactical frequency”, so I guess I dodged a different kind of bullet.

The second event had occurred earlier in my tour when a local VC unit decided to harass us with 82 mm mortar fire. The Vietnamese intelligence officer appeared in our Tactical Operations Center (TOC) telling me that the mortar crew was slightly north of our compound, because some of his troops had seen the mortar flash. He wanted me to see if there was anything I could do. I put on my flack vest and helmet, left the TOC intending to climb to the roof of what used to be a carport attached to the District Chief’s house so I would have a better vantage point.

I had ascended two rungs of the ladder, when I experienced a tremendous force accompanied by a hellacious noise. The next thing I knew, I was flat on the ground. When I was able to regain my composure, I stumbled back into the TOC to collect myself. It seems that an 82 mm mortar round aimed at the District Chief’s house impacted between the walls of our hooch and a steel blast wall in front of it. The preponderance of the blast force was absorbed by the steel wall, but the remainder was enough to knock me off the ladder. I was physically unhurt, with the exception of the few shrapnel scratches on my arm, since my flak vest absorbed the other stray metal pieces. I still have the tailfin assembly of the mortar round, but the scratches healed shortly thereafter.

And I lived to fight another day.

* The plaque with the tailfin assembly from the mortar round is something I had made up as a tongue-in-cheek parody of various awards. The caption refers to the enemy unit (74A Artillery 274^th Main Force Viet Cong Regiment) that was firing the mortar rounds at us. In a matter of speaking, they did “present” the mortar to me – by firing it.

Aug 12 2023

Memories of 9-11-2001 from VA and TX

by Chuck and Diana Hastings

The day started pretty much like any other morning with my husband, Chuck Hastings, on a business trip to Fort Worth, TX. He was due home that evening. The boys were gone – one in college and one living and working in Denver, CO.

I went to work – at an undisclosed location – for the CIA. When the secretary said – ‘HEY! Come look at this on TV’, many of us crowded into the front office area. I was stunned to see the 2nd aircraft slam into the World Trade Center. Almost immediately, we were notified to evacuate our building as we were in the flight path of Dulles Airport, a possible target.

I stayed in the office, as I had no one to go home to. I immediately called my oldest son, Aaron, in Denver, CO, and told him to GO HOME! I asked if he had seen the planes that had crashed into the World Trade Center? I warned him if this was a coordinated attack, he could be in danger, as he worked close to the Denver Federal Building – I begged him to PLEASE go home!

911 Irving Texas — **Denver Federal Building**

Then I called Chuck and told him to keep his rental car and buy some underwear. There was no way he was flying home that afternoon. CIA had advised us that ALL air traffic had been grounded.

I called our second son, Clay, a sophomore at Virginia Tech, and told him NOT to come home – it was safer to stay in Blacksburg. . . for now.

I then called a close friend, a retired Army LTC working for Defense Intelligence Agency at the Pentagon. His secretary said he was in a meeting and could not take my call. I told her it was urgent – a matter of life and death. She put me through. I told Jerry about the plane crashes and that the CIA felt the Pentagon was also a target. In turn, he told his meeting members to turn on the TV. I asked Jerry to please, please, evacuate from the Pentagon, ASAP. He said he had to get off the phone and find out what was happening. One of his meeting attendees was on the other side of the Pentagon and was participating in the meeting via telephone with Jerry and his colleagues.

Later, Jerry told me they heard and “felt” the plane slam into the Pentagon and his friend and colleague on the other side of the Pentagon was gone – dead from the impact of the plane that crashed on the western part of the Pentagon.

About then, my son in Denver called me back and asked if I had talked to his boss?? Apparently, his boss sent everyone home, as they were ‘too close to the Federal Building!’ NO, I did NOT talk to my sons’ boss – Aaron gave my CIA credentials too much credit! (smile)

Since there was nothing I could do from home, and I felt the need to help somehow, I called a friend that produced the Presidents Daily Bulletin (PDB) to see if he needed any extra hands to cope with today’s activities.

Specific clearances and accesses are required to handle the PDB. I had those clearances and accesses. The CIA Headquarters had already been evacuated, as they thought they might be a target of the missing aircraft. Bill said he would call me if he needed me. He said they would publish the PDB, but he had no idea who it would be delivered to, or where it would be delivered. I had a previous CIA position that included the tracking and record keeping of the PDB. I understood the dilemma.

I was the last one to leave our office that day. I locked up the office and without realizing it, I headed for the Pentagon. I had been stationed at the Army Communication Center in 5A910 for 4 years (1968 to 1972). For you non-Pentagon folks, 5A910 is the address of the Comm Center. As the NCOIC (E-6) of the Maintenance Shop, I knew every nook and cranny of the Pentagon from the rat-infested basements to the roof where my antennas were located. I felt like an old friend had been hurt and I needed to help.

**A Wounded Old Friend** (U.S. Navy Bob Houlihan)

There was already a Security perimeter around the Pentagon when I arrived, and they would not let anyone in. I watched from a nearby hill as my old friend burned.

I was surprised that I didn’t see an airplane – not even a tail at the crash site. I learned later that the impact was so intense, nothing was left of the aircraft which had been turned into a missile.

My friend, Jerry, got out of his side of the Pentagon and eventually got home. Later that night, I joined him and his wife, Joan, at their home. We talked over the horrendous events of the day and watched the news late into the night. We knew our world would never be the same again.

Meanwhile, Chuck kept his rental car and extended his stay in Fort Worth.

Knowing some of his business associates were from the metro Washington, DC area, he volunteered to share his absconded rental car in riding across the country. Chuck planned their route and hotel reservations to accommodate one rider who had left his car at the Nashville airport. And off the four went for 2 days of listening to patriotic music and news bulletins about what was going on in NYC, WDC and Shanksville, PA. The traffic on the roads was particularly sparse, as if nobody wanted to be on the road. The skies were silent, and the absence of contrails was almost eerie. Arriving in the metro WDC area, the remaining two passengers were dropped off, happy to be re-united with their families. Chuck dropped the rental car at Hertz at Dulles Airport. Amazingly, Hertz did not charge him for the rental, even though it was not returned to DFW as planned. Thank you, Hertz!

The next day, on the 12th of September, I talked at length with my son at VA Tech. I convinced him that dropping out of school and joining the Army was NOT a good idea! I explained to him that Uncle Sam needed him with an education! Clay is now an Army Major and a Dentist. He is also Airborne and Air Assault qualified. Important skills for a dentist! He spent 9 months in Iraq and Kuwait and is now with the 7th Special Forces. As a Dentist, he has already made a parachute jump into water, a feat neither his father, father-in-law, brother-in-law, nor sister-in-law accomplished while on active duty. We are so proud of Clay’s dedication to duty. He is a GREAT soldier!

9/11 was indeed a turning point for us all.

Aug 12 2023

On An Ordinary Day – 9-11-2001

by Cindy Maxson

“Good morning. What’s on your agenda today?”

“You know, same old, same old, meetings, lunch with a group that’s in town. I want to get in early, so I have time to get some work done before everyone else shows up.”

“I’ll get your coffee started while you get ready.”

He was ready in no time, and I had his coffee and OJ on the counter for him to gulp and run. As I watched him leave, he tapped the brake lights as a way of saying goodbye again. The routine was comfortable and the same most mornings. After he left, I checked my calendar to see what was on my agenda. It was September 11, 2001. Nothing urgent so I made a cup of tea and put on Good Morning America to get my daily feed of news and current affairs. When the show was about to end the commentator looked shocked. She said they would be extending the broadcast because they just got word that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. Soon, an announcement that a second plane had also hit the towers. I thought, “Oh my God! Bonnie works there and so does Tony, and I think Mary is going for an interview there today.”

I called my husband and said to find a television “you won’t believe what’s happened.” He said, “We already have one on. Everyone is in my office watching.” As the morning progressed, the news just got worse – the plane over PA, the Pentagon………

How quickly the everyday routine dissolves when tragedy strikes. Suddenly, the lazy half daze of what is routine crystalizes into sharp focus and we begin to take stock of all that we cherish.

The country is being attacked. How can this be happening? Who would do this? Are my friends ok? Where is my family? Watching the towers crumble was horrifying. I sat silently as I thought of all those I knew who might be in peril and the city I had always loved so much

New York City had always been the ultimate treat in my life. I lived on the New Jersey side of the river from New York City in the town of Rahway. It was about twenty miles outside of NYC on the commuter line. My mother would take my sister and I to plays, museums, lunch at the Automat, Radio City Music Hall, the Statue of Liberty and occasionally dinner at Mamma Leone’s. It was always a dress up occasion. We would walk the city streets in our dress shoes until we could no longer feel our feet, but it was worth it just to be there.

**New York Automat** (historyassociates)

**Mamma Leone’s Ristorante** (mnhallblog)

**Radio City Music Hall** (worldstrides)

New York had a rhythm that was best described by the music Leonard Bernstein composed for the song “New York, New York, It’s a Wonderful Town”. As you watch people walk the streets, you can almost see the up and down tempo.

Like so many other families, my ancestors had a history in New York City. They had immigrated there for what they hoped would be a better life. They came through Ellis Island to what was the ever changing ethnic and geographic landscape that was Manhattan.

**Ellis Island in 1907** (statueofliberty.org)

They made a life there. One grandfather was a baker, the other a trainman on the New York to Washington route. One grandmother was a hotel maid and the other a hat designer.

Part of what makes New York City so culturally rich is its ethnic diversity. It is thought to be the most linguistically diverse in the world with over 800 languages and dialects spoken (Wikipedia). Yet on the days leading up to 9/11, there was no common language found to divert the devastation that was that day.

Often, we live in blissful ignorance of the world around us. I could not have easily found Afghanistan on a map prior to 9/11. I had no idea what philosophy could manifest such hate. I’m sure many of the nearly 3000 people who were targets in the multiple locations might have said the same. Some of the people affected that day were friends and acquaintances.

I met Bonnie my first year at school in New York. Our school was located on East 53rd street just off 5th Avenue. She opted not to come back to school the second year. Instead, she went to work for a bank located in the World Trade Center. By the greatest of luck, she was not at work that day.

Mary was my first friend in the neighborhood. We met when we were four years old. We have shared a lifetime of experiences together. She was headed for an interview on the morning of 9/11 at the World Trade Center. She stopped at her recruiter’s office first, not far from her intended destination. While in his office they heard what sounded like an explosion. That sound was the first plane hitting the first tower. When she left the recruiter’s office, she heard the police trying to calm people. They said that there had been an accident and a plane had clipped one of the buildings. By the time the second building was hit, it was obvious it was no accident. She stood on the street watching as the buildings began to crumble. She began to fear she was in a war zone. That day would impact her life for many years to come.

Tony was my husband’s business associate. He worked for a firm in the World Trade Center that had a long history with my husband’s company He came to our city more often than my husband went to New York so on occasion my husband would bring him home for dinner. Tony knew that I had a connection to New York and suggested that I accompany my husband the next time there was business there. I had not been back in many years. He invited us to his beautiful home, a brownstone, before going to dinner with him and his wife. One of my last memories of Tony was in my own kitchen. He was talking to my husband while I cooked. He said, “I just turned 50. My twin boys are 8. I worry that I can’t keep up with them.” Who could have ever imagined that this man with so much to live for would have gone to work one day and never come home again.

How do you talk about the unspeakable? I learned a long time ago that my husband never did. As close as we were, some things were just too painful to share. This would be another one of those times.

My husband never met a stranger. If he saw the cafeteria lady, the elevator operator, or the receptionist at a company he did business with, the next time he saw them he would remember their faces and know their names. How much more difficult it must have been for him that day because not only did he lose a work friend, Tony, but he would remember the faces of all those lost who he had been in meetings with and those who kept the day-to-day running of the companies. He would be able to picture the offices and imagine the chaos.

Until I started writing this, I don’t think I ever gave myself permission to put into words how I felt about that day. After all, I was still standing. I wasn’t in the city that day. It didn’t affect me directly. Did it? It’s amazing how much we can suppress. In all these years, I have never been back to New York. September 11, 2001 became for me, as Don McLean wrote in the lyrics for the song “American Pie” “the day the music died.”

On what started out as an ordinary day, the world, ours included, had changed forever.

Remembering Tub

July 17, 2023

Aug 02 2023

Honor – The Harder Right – 2001

“Get yourself a good lawyer,” was the advice I kept hearing. I had just been selected to run a large water agency in Florida, and although people seemed genuinely glad for me, they all commented how “political” the job was. No problem. On active duty with the Army Corps of Engineers I had held several high-vis, high pressure jobs that required finesse and a cool head, and I survived them. I was confident that I could handle a tough, demanding job, but I decided getting an advocate to help me negotiate my employment arrangements made a lot of sense.

At a complete loss where to start, I called Bob Kimmitt, who, I knew, would have a couple of classmates’ names to recommend. Bob suggested Ralph Artigliere – an old friend I was happy to call. Ralph had a partner, Jon Anderson (another 69er), who was well-versed in employment law. I didn’t know Jon, but having a classmate at my side was exactly the honest broker I needed.

Jon and I quickly developed a good friendship and effective working relationship. He asked tough questions, interviewed a number of key officials, and reviewed pertinent law. His bottom line to me was to turn down the offer. No real protections for me, no guarantees, and lots of risks. We talked about it at length, but I had the “fever”……I wanted the job and the risks. We shook hands, and Jon left town. I would never see Jon again; this outstanding man would perish in a plane crash in 2003.

Fast forward 18 months or so. By then, I had established myself as a solid leader of the water agency. I had handled staff shakeups, emergency operations during hurricanes and flooding, intense press coverage, a contentious Governing Board, and a strong-willed Chairman.

**Briefing Gov. Jeb Bush at an Emergency Operations Meeting**

I frequently briefed the governor, as we were the lead agency with the Corps of Engineers on the massive Everglades Restoration Program.

**Historical Look at the Everglades Project**

Some of my friends told me I was on a fast-track to move to the “big time.” After all, the governor’s brother was the president! I thought I was riding pretty high.

**President Bush Visits the Everglades in 2000**

About then I came to my “harder right” moment. From left field, I started getting pressure to fire a key deputy (for reasons that seemed pretty thin.) I resisted, but the pressure kept ratcheting higher. Governing Board members (my bosses) called me at home with advice. Most of it was along the lines: “go along to get along. Don’t ruin your own bright future to save a guy who’s already damaged goods.”

Problem was that this man was being railroaded for reasons that were completely fabricated; they just wanted him gone. He was my chief negotiator for huge land purchases for the state – a job handling millions of dollars, acres, and egos. And he was considered totally impartial, highly competent, and incorruptible. Just the kind of person I needed in that key position. I could only conclude that the “powers that be” wanted their own person in that role – someone who could be controlled.

Since I never became EPA Administrator, you probably guessed that I didn’t fire that individual. But I was no longer the fair-haired boy. Clearly, I couldn’t be trusted to be on “The Team.” Some key relationships were severed. Within the year, I submitted my resignation. A very tough chapter of my life had concluded. But by choosing the harder right over the easier wrong, I had earned a tremendous amount of support and respect. I received an unbelievable wave of public support and important validation from industry and government contacts. Ironically, it was a significant reputation-building experience. I became highly sought after by numerous organizations and business leaders, including my next employer. People closest to the action understood and appreciated the decisions I had made.

I am convinced that the emphasis West Point put on character, integrity, and doing the right thing carried me over the roughest times. I was definitely being pressured to take the “easier wrong,” but I knew I couldn’t live with that decision. I’m proud of the path I chose, and I hope it gave others some inspiration to choose the harder right.

Excerpts from the West Point Cadet Prayer

Strengthen and increase our admiration for honest dealing and clean thinking, and suffer not our hatred of hypocrisy and pretense ever to diminish. Encourage us in our endeavor to live above the common level of life. Make us to choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong, and never to be content with a half-truth when the whole can be won.

Endow us with courage that is born of loyalty to all that is noble and worthy, that scorns to compromise with vice and injustice and knows no fear when truth and right are in jeopardy.

Jun 24 2023

Probability Baseball at MS 399, part 2 – 2000

I had a few things going for me on the baseball game we developed. The kids (even girls) were interested in the sport, and all had their favorite professional players. Both the Mets and the Yankees were good and popular teams at the time. I believe the Mets had just acquired Mike Piazza from LA, and of course the Yankees had Derek Jeter. Our school was only 10 blocks from Yankee Stadium. As teachers we could take our kids for free on the Subway. We took a couple of trips to Yankee stadium, and although we couldn’t get in, there was a playground we used right across the street. The playground at our school was off limits, taken over by drugs and drug lords.

**Macombs Dam Park at Yankee Stadium** (the Kermit project)

When you think about baseball, there is a lot of math involved: from the geometry of the infield diamond, to player batting averages, velocity and distance, design of the fields, and Yes, probability. A left-hand hitter has a better chance of getting a hit against a right-hand pitcher than a right-hand hitter. The lefty will see more of the ball leaving the right-hand pitcher’s hand than the right-hand hitter. I used a lot of these factors in the design of the game.

We started by having each student design their own ballpark. I gave them distances they had to use for left and right field foul lines, dead center field, 90 feet between bases and 60 feet from pitcher’s mound to home plate. By this time in the school year, most kids were used to drawing to scale. For this project we used one inch to 10 feet. We had plenty of construction paper so they could work in different colors for bleachers, score boards and foul territory. Our infield diamonds came out as squares as opposed to a real infield which is more like a diamond. Kids came up with some very clever names for their ballparks.

After the fields were made, we started on the spinners (see photo). These were made on file folders and had to have 12 almost perfect 30-degree wedges measured with protractors. I gave them the different hits they could use, but they could place these hits wherever they wanted on their spinner. After the spinners and arrows were made and tested, we moved onto the lineups.

I gave them the averages they could use. The pitchers had averages of .100 (one hit out of 10 at bats). Every team had one .350 hitter which would be the best in their lineup (3.5 hits out of 10 at bats). The kids would name their players when they were ready to play and put them in the lineup – one thru nine – wherever they wanted.

To actually play the game, several things had to fall in place. The fields had to be mathematically correct, the spinners had to be accurate and tested, and we needed at least two students in this position. When this happened, I assigned another student as umpire to try and keep the game fair. This proved to be a difficult hurdle in almost every game we played. These kids would do anything to win.

The game started with the visiting team’s first player coming to bat. We used a bucket with 20 marbles for every hitter in the lineup. For example, if a player at bat had a .250 batting average (2.5 hits out of 10), we put 5 yellow marbles and 15 red marbles in the bucket. The student whose team was at bat would hold the bucket behind their back. If they pulled a yellow marble, it was a hit. If they pulled a red marble, it would be an out. If the outcome for that batter was hit, they would move to their spinner, and spin the arrow to see what hit that batter would get. If he or she pulled a red marble, it was an out and they would go to their next batter in their lineup. After pulling three red marbles, their team was out, and the home team would be at bat. When we first started playing these games in the classroom, I used checkers rather than marbles for the bucket. These proved too easy to doctor. They could put nicks and gouges in the checkers so they could get a hit every time. We moved to marbles because they were a little harder to disfigure. Every umpire had their hands full keeping these games fair. It was always a challenge.

The players moved around the bases as the games were in progress. We used chess set pawns to represent the players on base. If a team started with a double, we put a pawn on 2^nd base. If the next batter hit a single, there would be pawns on 1^st and 3^rd base. There were no errors in our games and no stretching out hits. Most of our games ended after 5 or 6 innings, especially if there was a large score difference.

I will end my story by saying I did not perform any miracle. Maybe these kids still couldn’t get a 3 or 4 on the state test. I think I did show them that math doesn’t have to be like learning a foreign language. Math can play a part in many activities we view as fun and entertainment.

I finished my school year at MS 399 without ever taking a sick day or vacation day because I somehow folded this into my challenge. I ended up teaching one more year of classroom math, but it was in Dobbs Ferry, NY, not in NYC. You won’t (or shouldn’t) find this game in any book or video. As far as I know, I retired it with MS 399 and didn’t use it again. I think many of us have been in situations, military or civilian, where we hit the wall and the finish line is nowhere in sight. My love for baseball, which I still have, helped me find another path.

Editors note: MS 399 in the Bronx, NY was closed in 2012 for bad academic performance according to News 12. It has earned a “D” on progress reports and had been placed on the State’s list of persistently dangerous schools.