Saturday was a nice day. I promised myself that I would take some time to relax this weekend, after the marathon that is exam week. A day wrapped up in a blanket, lying on a soft couch, covered in warm dogs…
For the most part, that came true. The morning was rather hectic, however, as I dedicated myself to photographing the HUGE flock of robins that were stripping the trees in my neighborhood of their remaining buds and berries. There were at least 50 birds in the flock and this is the largest robin flock I’ve ever seen in this neighborhood. And in late January! Camera in hand, I stalked the flock and documented their antics as they fluttered between my neighbor’s tree, my tree, and a berry-covered shrub in a neighbor’s back yard. It was cold and miserable, but quite fun and I have a few shots that I might enlarge.
Then, it was time to study. Ugh…Every day, my nose shoved in a physics book. But, that doesn’t mean that I had to sit on a hard chair at a cold desk. Warm couch, warm blanket, warm dogs…but, I have discovered over the years that I am one of those folks who concentrate best when I am surrounded by distractions. I do my best work while being inundated with a variety of stimuli. Videos are my stimulus of choice, so it was time to pick a title or two to help focus my attention of the swirling ocean of equations. Despite my current obsession with horror flicks, I felt that something else was required. Something long, too, as I didn’t want to have to get up frequently to pick a new DVD. Pirates of the Caribbean I and II. Perfect. 5 hours of piratey action. I love those films and they provided the perfect counterpart to the brain numbage of quantum mechanics and fluid dynamics. Read several pages, watch tv to allow the information to sink into the gray matter. Read more pages, watch a rousing swordfight, and so on and so forth…
During the second film, I noticed that the time had passed 5:00 and I could hear Captain Morgan calling. What is a pirate film without a little rum…I admit that I am totally a rum gal. I could drink no other potable alcohol and be content for life. I love the smell, the flavor, the history, the slight scoundrelness associated with rum. Ties in well with my Tiki fetish, too. Although I avoid the beach, I would be happy sitting in a thatch-covered hut on the beachfront, quaffing cool rum drinks and watching the world go by. So, a Captain and Coke (Zero), a pirate film and the afternoon was a joy. Much studying done, so the responsible side of me was pacified. Much fun had, so the frivolous side of me was satisfied. All sides happy. Few days work out as nicely…
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Horror Movies
I’ve been watching a lot of horror movies lately and I’m not quite sure why. Admittedly, I enjoy the flicks, but I always wonder what is the cause of any genre bias in either reading or video watching. Without fail, I always avoid chick flicks and sentimental clap trap and I understand that pattern. I am not a chicky, weepy femme so those pictures have little appeal to me.
But there are plenty of genres that I enjoy – mystery, action, scifi, comedy…so why am I hooked on horror pics at the moment? I have been feeding the dvd player a continuous stream of slasher films, supernatural thrillers, showcases of psychology gone wrong, scifi aliens on killing sprees…The funny part is that they don’t scare me. I am too detached to be scared. I enjoy the sound and visual effects, the bad acting, the convoluted plotlines. Actually, now that I think about it, I have more fun analyzing the technical aspects of these films than I do the overall cinematic experience. I must admit to also liking the humor in these films. Their lame jokes do tend to make me laugh. I was watching Freddy vs. Jason on the SciFi channel the other night and was cracking up more from that than I do any currently-produced network sitcom.
I’ve seen every film that Fear.net has to offer on On Demand. I’m busily plowing through my tape library (actually forgot that I had a copy of American Psycho, that was a nice find), scanning the premium channels for suitable offerings. Maybe it is the pure escapism that has me in its thrall. I’ve been very tied to reality lately and these offer a break. Maybe it is the fun of seeing just how stupidly the next person will meet their end. I’m all for the strengthening of the gene pool, so dumb kids who go skinny dipping at the old creepy summer camp deserve what they get, in my opinion. It is midterm period and I’m all about dumb kids at the moment. Maybe its because they don’t really engage my brain very much and I need the additional brain wattage to study for my upcoming physics teacher’s test…
Dunno…this too shall pass, in its time and I’ll be on to another thing. After I finish reading all of Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt books, of course…
But there are plenty of genres that I enjoy – mystery, action, scifi, comedy…so why am I hooked on horror pics at the moment? I have been feeding the dvd player a continuous stream of slasher films, supernatural thrillers, showcases of psychology gone wrong, scifi aliens on killing sprees…The funny part is that they don’t scare me. I am too detached to be scared. I enjoy the sound and visual effects, the bad acting, the convoluted plotlines. Actually, now that I think about it, I have more fun analyzing the technical aspects of these films than I do the overall cinematic experience. I must admit to also liking the humor in these films. Their lame jokes do tend to make me laugh. I was watching Freddy vs. Jason on the SciFi channel the other night and was cracking up more from that than I do any currently-produced network sitcom.
I’ve seen every film that Fear.net has to offer on On Demand. I’m busily plowing through my tape library (actually forgot that I had a copy of American Psycho, that was a nice find), scanning the premium channels for suitable offerings. Maybe it is the pure escapism that has me in its thrall. I’ve been very tied to reality lately and these offer a break. Maybe it is the fun of seeing just how stupidly the next person will meet their end. I’m all for the strengthening of the gene pool, so dumb kids who go skinny dipping at the old creepy summer camp deserve what they get, in my opinion. It is midterm period and I’m all about dumb kids at the moment. Maybe its because they don’t really engage my brain very much and I need the additional brain wattage to study for my upcoming physics teacher’s test…
Dunno…this too shall pass, in its time and I’ll be on to another thing. After I finish reading all of Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt books, of course…
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Ice
I don’t mind cold. Really. Snow is ok, although an annoyance. What I cannot abide, however, is ice. And today is the iciest day I’ve seen in a coon’s age.
We have been enjoying in a blissfully mild winter and I can’t even say that today is brutal. The temperatures are in the 30’s, which is normally fine, but we are having those rare and peculiar conditions that turn every object into ice sculptures.
Yesterday was a day of rain. Incessant, unrelenting. Nothing driving or particularly harsh, but it never stopped. And, the temperature was sitting contentedly at the borderline between freezing/not freezing. This is bad. At this temperature, water’s density increases a bit and it has a tendency to cling to objects. Then, when the temperature sinks further and the viscous slush turns to solid ice, the fun begins. Overnight, an entire region of drippy wetness turned to frictionless freeze and that is not conditions to be appreciated.
First off, I should have gotten hazard pay just getting to my car. I went out early, as I knew that scraping was going to be the name of the game. I was not prepared for hacking. The car was coated in ¼ - 1/3” thick ice. I have electric locks, so I was not worried about unlocking said vehicle, but opening a door was another matter. Trying to pry open a frozen door, when you can’t actually get a grip on the handle is a sight to behold. At one point, my feet slid forward and I slid underneath the car. Peeking around to see if any of my neighbors witnessed this sad turn of events, I inched back out and made another attempt. It took awhile, but the door finally came free. Yeah! Now, scraping…
Even with the defroster blasting hot air on the windshield, it took 10 minutes of solid struggle to free the windshield from its icy prison. I had barely sufficient energy left to hack a small porthole in either of the front windows. Ok. Now, I have to get the dogs.
Every day, my dogs go to daycare. They romp and play with their friends and this weekend of forced confinement indoors had made them manic with pent-up energy. How was I going to get them down the stairs and to the car over a veritable skating rink of stairs and sidewalk? Carrying them was not an option. I had to maintain my own balance. Leashing them raised the possibility of them trying to imitate sled dogs and pull me down the street. Ingenuity was called for and I was up to the challenge.
I brought their portable kennel downstairs and wrestled each dog into its inescapable clutches. Then, I headed out the back door. My property slopes upwards towards the back of the house. The front door is accessed from a raised porch, but the back is flush with the ground. So, out the back I headed pushing the kennel in front of me with my foot. Exiting the back gate, I gave the kennel a sturdy shove with the boot and down it slid, dogs and all, to the bottom of the alley that separates my house from my neighbors. I still had to navigate the solid sheet of ice, myself, but I didn’t have to worry about the canine influence.
At the bottom, I continued to push the kennel towards the car and removed the dogs once we were alongside the door. I was quite proud of myself. I used the ice against itself and the silly bit of revenge was rewarding. Driving was less of a nightmare than I had predicted as the road crews had actually been earning their salaries by liberally sanding the streets. Getting to the daycare provider’s house, we played doggie bowling. Her driveway was an ice sheet, so she stood by her door and I slid the dogs, one at a time, across the 5 feet or so to her grasp.
By afternoon, some of the ice will be gone, but much will remain. I am currently working on a catapult design to get dogs and myself into my warm, cozy house when we return home. I wonder if shop class has any scrap wood I can borrow…
We have been enjoying in a blissfully mild winter and I can’t even say that today is brutal. The temperatures are in the 30’s, which is normally fine, but we are having those rare and peculiar conditions that turn every object into ice sculptures.
Yesterday was a day of rain. Incessant, unrelenting. Nothing driving or particularly harsh, but it never stopped. And, the temperature was sitting contentedly at the borderline between freezing/not freezing. This is bad. At this temperature, water’s density increases a bit and it has a tendency to cling to objects. Then, when the temperature sinks further and the viscous slush turns to solid ice, the fun begins. Overnight, an entire region of drippy wetness turned to frictionless freeze and that is not conditions to be appreciated.
First off, I should have gotten hazard pay just getting to my car. I went out early, as I knew that scraping was going to be the name of the game. I was not prepared for hacking. The car was coated in ¼ - 1/3” thick ice. I have electric locks, so I was not worried about unlocking said vehicle, but opening a door was another matter. Trying to pry open a frozen door, when you can’t actually get a grip on the handle is a sight to behold. At one point, my feet slid forward and I slid underneath the car. Peeking around to see if any of my neighbors witnessed this sad turn of events, I inched back out and made another attempt. It took awhile, but the door finally came free. Yeah! Now, scraping…
Even with the defroster blasting hot air on the windshield, it took 10 minutes of solid struggle to free the windshield from its icy prison. I had barely sufficient energy left to hack a small porthole in either of the front windows. Ok. Now, I have to get the dogs.
Every day, my dogs go to daycare. They romp and play with their friends and this weekend of forced confinement indoors had made them manic with pent-up energy. How was I going to get them down the stairs and to the car over a veritable skating rink of stairs and sidewalk? Carrying them was not an option. I had to maintain my own balance. Leashing them raised the possibility of them trying to imitate sled dogs and pull me down the street. Ingenuity was called for and I was up to the challenge.
I brought their portable kennel downstairs and wrestled each dog into its inescapable clutches. Then, I headed out the back door. My property slopes upwards towards the back of the house. The front door is accessed from a raised porch, but the back is flush with the ground. So, out the back I headed pushing the kennel in front of me with my foot. Exiting the back gate, I gave the kennel a sturdy shove with the boot and down it slid, dogs and all, to the bottom of the alley that separates my house from my neighbors. I still had to navigate the solid sheet of ice, myself, but I didn’t have to worry about the canine influence.
At the bottom, I continued to push the kennel towards the car and removed the dogs once we were alongside the door. I was quite proud of myself. I used the ice against itself and the silly bit of revenge was rewarding. Driving was less of a nightmare than I had predicted as the road crews had actually been earning their salaries by liberally sanding the streets. Getting to the daycare provider’s house, we played doggie bowling. Her driveway was an ice sheet, so she stood by her door and I slid the dogs, one at a time, across the 5 feet or so to her grasp.
By afternoon, some of the ice will be gone, but much will remain. I am currently working on a catapult design to get dogs and myself into my warm, cozy house when we return home. I wonder if shop class has any scrap wood I can borrow…
Saturday, January 13, 2007
The Illusion of Friendship
I was reminded today just what an illusory thing is friendship. Friends, apparently, are only there when you are everpresent to stroke their egos, laugh at their jokes. bolster their spirits...When you have to take time to get your own house in order, they apparently view this as an insult and the grudge is profound. In a way this is a good thing. It makes it very easy to carve these people from your mind and erase their self-important faces from your memory.
I had lost contact with a group of people for an extended period of time. With illness and other events occurring in my life, I did not have the mental and emotional reserves to behave as my usual energetic, helpful, supportive self. Such sentiments I had to keep back and maintain for my own use for a time. Even though I did nothing tangibly heinous to these individuals, apparently I am now persona non-grata. Upon a small attempt at reconnection, it was very quick to discern who were kind of heart and happy of spirit and who were self-serving and petty of demeanor. A very clean, clear line. I like things that way. Binary. Black and white. If only all things in life were so simple...
I had lost contact with a group of people for an extended period of time. With illness and other events occurring in my life, I did not have the mental and emotional reserves to behave as my usual energetic, helpful, supportive self. Such sentiments I had to keep back and maintain for my own use for a time. Even though I did nothing tangibly heinous to these individuals, apparently I am now persona non-grata. Upon a small attempt at reconnection, it was very quick to discern who were kind of heart and happy of spirit and who were self-serving and petty of demeanor. A very clean, clear line. I like things that way. Binary. Black and white. If only all things in life were so simple...
Friday, January 12, 2007
Hands Off My Bandwidth
I am currently enjoying my preparation period. Unlike most others, this one finds me with no papers to correct, no Xeroxing to be completed, no tests to write….just a break in the day. A good thing for a lackluster Friday afternoon.
During this period, however, my classroom is used by another teacher, so I have to relocate to the teacher’s workroom (the new name for the traditional teacher’s lounge). I pull out the laptop, boot iTunes, pop in the earbuds and start listening to my music. Then I spy it…never noticed it before. Sharing? What the hell…I am connecting to someone else’s iTunes list. And I know whose it is based on the name of the list, which is suspiciously the same as the digital arts teacher. I feel so violated. I do not want to share anyone else’s music. I examine the list of titles on the playlist and this further confirms my suspicions that I want nothing to do with this intrusion. Fergie, Beyonce…I could just puke from the thought of that trash being even remotely associated with my beloved laptop. I quickly kill the wireless connection and disable all sharing in my iTunes preferences.
This however, damages my calm. I do not want to have to jump into techno-ninja mode during my relaxing prep period. Even though the intrusion was quickly repelled, the need to maintain vigilance remained in the shadows of my brain and I find that I cannot successfully give myself over to Warren Zevon and his tuneful philosophy. Drat.
The onslaught of digital invasion is increasing in our society and I personally think that anyone who intrudes on my virtual territory should be shot, killed, skinned and butchered for the alligators to eat. I have nothing but caustic contempt for spammers, spyware developers and distributors, virus authors…They represent the lowest to which the human condition can sink. The human race after a nuclear holocaust, living in Omega Man conditions will have more going for it than these cretins. I think a law should be passed that if someone is convicted of authoring or distributing spyware or malicious computer threats, they should be put in the town circle and each citizen should be issued a heavy, pointed rock.
I have but a few minutes until I must return to the salt mine and take charge of my last class of the day. A little “Crazy Train” should put me in the proper frame of mind…
During this period, however, my classroom is used by another teacher, so I have to relocate to the teacher’s workroom (the new name for the traditional teacher’s lounge). I pull out the laptop, boot iTunes, pop in the earbuds and start listening to my music. Then I spy it…never noticed it before. Sharing? What the hell…I am connecting to someone else’s iTunes list. And I know whose it is based on the name of the list, which is suspiciously the same as the digital arts teacher. I feel so violated. I do not want to share anyone else’s music. I examine the list of titles on the playlist and this further confirms my suspicions that I want nothing to do with this intrusion. Fergie, Beyonce…I could just puke from the thought of that trash being even remotely associated with my beloved laptop. I quickly kill the wireless connection and disable all sharing in my iTunes preferences.
This however, damages my calm. I do not want to have to jump into techno-ninja mode during my relaxing prep period. Even though the intrusion was quickly repelled, the need to maintain vigilance remained in the shadows of my brain and I find that I cannot successfully give myself over to Warren Zevon and his tuneful philosophy. Drat.
The onslaught of digital invasion is increasing in our society and I personally think that anyone who intrudes on my virtual territory should be shot, killed, skinned and butchered for the alligators to eat. I have nothing but caustic contempt for spammers, spyware developers and distributors, virus authors…They represent the lowest to which the human condition can sink. The human race after a nuclear holocaust, living in Omega Man conditions will have more going for it than these cretins. I think a law should be passed that if someone is convicted of authoring or distributing spyware or malicious computer threats, they should be put in the town circle and each citizen should be issued a heavy, pointed rock.
I have but a few minutes until I must return to the salt mine and take charge of my last class of the day. A little “Crazy Train” should put me in the proper frame of mind…
I Have 4 iPods
Oh, yes. The prudent might ask if 4 iPods are necessary for one person and the mature response would be “no.” However, maturity rarely makes an appearance in my household, so it’s opinion is disregarded.
In total, I have 5 mp3 players. My first was a 8-gig Creative Zen. It was ok. I must admit that I never warmed to the player, although I put forth my best effort. It functioned with due diligence, but something was lacking in our relationship. That certain je nais ce quois…
One day, while perusing TechforLess, one of my favorite online tech shops, I saw an “open box” 60-gig video iPod. The color requirement, black, was met and I did a bit of hurried research to investigate the product. Seemed like a wonder. Movies, music, etc. Input credit card information into correct form fields and it is sent across the country to my waiting hands.
Of course, all was not perfect in mp3-land. First, my music service was Rhapsody. Rhapsody does not like iPod and the feeling is mutual. My beloved monthly subscription service was useless! No, no, no…there’s a way around every problem. A quick tour of the internet produced the required software to convert my Rhapsody files into plain, friendly, mp3’s. Yeah! The second bump in the road was video. I wanted movies and this was before iTunes started selling them. iTunes would rip cd’s, but wouldn’t touch DVD’s with a 10-foot pole. Another quest. Another grail. Software to rip DVD’s and perform the required conversion for the iPod. Oh, the DVD’s are copyright protected? No worries, software to take care of that also.
So the 60-gig goes into service and it is a little dream. Of course, all the accessories must be had to outfit the beast and it goes everywhere I go. Then, one fine day, an 80-gigabyte version appears on the market and I snap at it like a fish at a worm. 20-gigs more storage. Yes! That thing has as much disk space as my laptop. Piled high with movies and all the music to which I ever could listen. And Bejeweled 2. And Season 1 of Eureka and the only season of Firefly. And some Henry Rollins spoken word stuff. Did I need an extra 20 gigs for this? Of course not. The 60-gig was nowhere near full, but that is completely irrelevant.
But, the video iPods are a tad large and their price tag made me leery of carting them around like car keys. Back to TechforLess. Ahh…a refurbished 4-gig blue iPod Mini. Cheap and ready to ship. Mine. Perfect to toss in the purse, it lives between my car (with the appropriate FM transmitter) and my classroom (with the appropriate iPod speaker setup). Its only problem is a problem that plagues Mini’s. The battery. It sucks in a large way. It is absolutely perfect for car and school use, where it can be charged while playing, but it is not good for extended walks with the dog. I could replace the battery, but the Mini is the iPod model that is the most frustrating to battery replacers. Do I spend light funds and perform surgery on the Mini, or accept its limitations and look elsewhere for another to take around with me when I am unplugged from the electrical grid?
Enter the Nano. The beautiful, 2nd generation 8-gigabyte black Nano. Got that puppy off eBay. Great battery life and light to carry around. Dogs and I promenade around town and I am lost in the sounds of heavy metal, Eddie Cantor or some Broadway musical. And, off course, the 80’s crap thrown in for nostalgia.
This is my father’s genes causing mischief. He was of the mind that anything worth owning one of was worth owning three of. His toolboxes bore witness to this obsession with multiples. If he bought one item, he bought two others just like it. And, there was a good chance that none of them ever made it out of the package. I have that streak a mile wide running through me. I cannot honestly wrap my head around the fact that duplicates and multiples are a “bad thing.” I take the concept of file back-up into the non-virtual world and believe that everything should be backed up. I have bought multiple sets of dishes, get Tiki mugs in two’s, when possible, own 3 laptops, 2 dogs, etc. The only thing that exists singly in my house is me and I know that science will remedy that soon.
My iPod army – each member called to duty in its own time and for its own specialty. They’ll work until they drop. That reminds me. I did want to look at the new iPod Shuffle as a back up in case of emergency. Wonder if anyone’s got one on sale?
In total, I have 5 mp3 players. My first was a 8-gig Creative Zen. It was ok. I must admit that I never warmed to the player, although I put forth my best effort. It functioned with due diligence, but something was lacking in our relationship. That certain je nais ce quois…
One day, while perusing TechforLess, one of my favorite online tech shops, I saw an “open box” 60-gig video iPod. The color requirement, black, was met and I did a bit of hurried research to investigate the product. Seemed like a wonder. Movies, music, etc. Input credit card information into correct form fields and it is sent across the country to my waiting hands.
Of course, all was not perfect in mp3-land. First, my music service was Rhapsody. Rhapsody does not like iPod and the feeling is mutual. My beloved monthly subscription service was useless! No, no, no…there’s a way around every problem. A quick tour of the internet produced the required software to convert my Rhapsody files into plain, friendly, mp3’s. Yeah! The second bump in the road was video. I wanted movies and this was before iTunes started selling them. iTunes would rip cd’s, but wouldn’t touch DVD’s with a 10-foot pole. Another quest. Another grail. Software to rip DVD’s and perform the required conversion for the iPod. Oh, the DVD’s are copyright protected? No worries, software to take care of that also.
So the 60-gig goes into service and it is a little dream. Of course, all the accessories must be had to outfit the beast and it goes everywhere I go. Then, one fine day, an 80-gigabyte version appears on the market and I snap at it like a fish at a worm. 20-gigs more storage. Yes! That thing has as much disk space as my laptop. Piled high with movies and all the music to which I ever could listen. And Bejeweled 2. And Season 1 of Eureka and the only season of Firefly. And some Henry Rollins spoken word stuff. Did I need an extra 20 gigs for this? Of course not. The 60-gig was nowhere near full, but that is completely irrelevant.
But, the video iPods are a tad large and their price tag made me leery of carting them around like car keys. Back to TechforLess. Ahh…a refurbished 4-gig blue iPod Mini. Cheap and ready to ship. Mine. Perfect to toss in the purse, it lives between my car (with the appropriate FM transmitter) and my classroom (with the appropriate iPod speaker setup). Its only problem is a problem that plagues Mini’s. The battery. It sucks in a large way. It is absolutely perfect for car and school use, where it can be charged while playing, but it is not good for extended walks with the dog. I could replace the battery, but the Mini is the iPod model that is the most frustrating to battery replacers. Do I spend light funds and perform surgery on the Mini, or accept its limitations and look elsewhere for another to take around with me when I am unplugged from the electrical grid?
Enter the Nano. The beautiful, 2nd generation 8-gigabyte black Nano. Got that puppy off eBay. Great battery life and light to carry around. Dogs and I promenade around town and I am lost in the sounds of heavy metal, Eddie Cantor or some Broadway musical. And, off course, the 80’s crap thrown in for nostalgia.
This is my father’s genes causing mischief. He was of the mind that anything worth owning one of was worth owning three of. His toolboxes bore witness to this obsession with multiples. If he bought one item, he bought two others just like it. And, there was a good chance that none of them ever made it out of the package. I have that streak a mile wide running through me. I cannot honestly wrap my head around the fact that duplicates and multiples are a “bad thing.” I take the concept of file back-up into the non-virtual world and believe that everything should be backed up. I have bought multiple sets of dishes, get Tiki mugs in two’s, when possible, own 3 laptops, 2 dogs, etc. The only thing that exists singly in my house is me and I know that science will remedy that soon.
My iPod army – each member called to duty in its own time and for its own specialty. They’ll work until they drop. That reminds me. I did want to look at the new iPod Shuffle as a back up in case of emergency. Wonder if anyone’s got one on sale?
Thursday, January 11, 2007
New Teachers
It is a phenomenon of science that the greater the discrepancy between two objects or areas, the faster the transfer of materials between them. Two objects differing greatly in temperature will experience a rapid transfer of heat. Two solutions differing greatly in concentration will experience a rapid rate of diffusion. In two populations, disparate in age, should we expect the rapid transfer of knowledge?
Darn Tootin’. When looking at teachers and their students, people tend to expect that younger teachers have more of a “connection” with their students and can use that to build a productive rapport. We see movies about the young, brash teachers making a profound impact on the lives and learning of their students, while the ol’ farts exemplify everything that is wrong with the system. What a load of @%$#%. Young teachers are funny and it is no wonder that most don’t make it very long in education. I actually think it should be illegal for anyone under the age of 30 to be in control of a classroom. They just don’t have that certain look in their eyes yet that signals a true understanding of the education process.
You see it in the interview process. Just walking in the door is generally enough to tell you everything you need to know about a young teacher. The generally fall in to the extreme end of some personality category. They are overly confident or overly shy. They work too hard at being funny or at being serious. They are ridiculously strict or laughably easy. They have yet to find balance and that is critical for successful teaching. And the kids spot them as quickly as do their peers.
Kids are extremely difficult to fool. They respect one thing – honesty. If you are honest about yourself, you can do almost anything in the classroom and they will go along with the flow. If it is truly in your personality to be strict, they abide by your stringency. If they sense you are being strict because you are scared of them and worried about holding onto the classroom reins, they will work their wiles to crucify you. If you are honestly an easy teacher, they go along with it. If you are easy because you don’t really know your material or are worried about the kids not liking you, they will pick up this vibe and complain to their parents about the lack of learning in your class. Not to mention, they will manipulate you shamelessly during the year.
Young teachers are simply not sufficiently secure to present their real selves in the classroom. Their teacher preparation classes paint a certain picture of successful teachers and they are terrified that they do not fit the bill. It is not surprising that most new teachers live on the edge of nervous breakdowns. Nothing is the way they were told it would be and their insecurities build and build. The kids feed off this and the cycle continues. I’ve seen newbies descend into tears when a student proclaims that they hate the class. It is like when a new parent hears “I hate you” from their kid for the first time. Veterans know that the student is just trying to push a button or is acting out due to problems completely unrelated to the situation.
Old folks know the score. With that knowledge, they can devote more attention to actually teaching material than battling their personal demons. Does this mean that all veteran teachers are good teachers? Absolutely not. But one should never fall into the mindset that older teachers are minions of Satan. Even though some of us have a personal connection with the Dark Lord, that does not mean that we are the bane of students everywhere. Ignore the slightly sulfurous smell in our classrooms and you’ll find some righteous education going on…
Darn Tootin’. When looking at teachers and their students, people tend to expect that younger teachers have more of a “connection” with their students and can use that to build a productive rapport. We see movies about the young, brash teachers making a profound impact on the lives and learning of their students, while the ol’ farts exemplify everything that is wrong with the system. What a load of @%$#%. Young teachers are funny and it is no wonder that most don’t make it very long in education. I actually think it should be illegal for anyone under the age of 30 to be in control of a classroom. They just don’t have that certain look in their eyes yet that signals a true understanding of the education process.
You see it in the interview process. Just walking in the door is generally enough to tell you everything you need to know about a young teacher. The generally fall in to the extreme end of some personality category. They are overly confident or overly shy. They work too hard at being funny or at being serious. They are ridiculously strict or laughably easy. They have yet to find balance and that is critical for successful teaching. And the kids spot them as quickly as do their peers.
Kids are extremely difficult to fool. They respect one thing – honesty. If you are honest about yourself, you can do almost anything in the classroom and they will go along with the flow. If it is truly in your personality to be strict, they abide by your stringency. If they sense you are being strict because you are scared of them and worried about holding onto the classroom reins, they will work their wiles to crucify you. If you are honestly an easy teacher, they go along with it. If you are easy because you don’t really know your material or are worried about the kids not liking you, they will pick up this vibe and complain to their parents about the lack of learning in your class. Not to mention, they will manipulate you shamelessly during the year.
Young teachers are simply not sufficiently secure to present their real selves in the classroom. Their teacher preparation classes paint a certain picture of successful teachers and they are terrified that they do not fit the bill. It is not surprising that most new teachers live on the edge of nervous breakdowns. Nothing is the way they were told it would be and their insecurities build and build. The kids feed off this and the cycle continues. I’ve seen newbies descend into tears when a student proclaims that they hate the class. It is like when a new parent hears “I hate you” from their kid for the first time. Veterans know that the student is just trying to push a button or is acting out due to problems completely unrelated to the situation.
Old folks know the score. With that knowledge, they can devote more attention to actually teaching material than battling their personal demons. Does this mean that all veteran teachers are good teachers? Absolutely not. But one should never fall into the mindset that older teachers are minions of Satan. Even though some of us have a personal connection with the Dark Lord, that does not mean that we are the bane of students everywhere. Ignore the slightly sulfurous smell in our classrooms and you’ll find some righteous education going on…
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
And The Stakes Rise...
This state is in such a shambles that it should be shot and put out of its misery. Today, I received a letter from the Department of Education. Backstory: in order to get a waiver to teach physics this year, I had to apply for certification in physics in order to be in the system. Everyone involved knew this was just a pitiful sham. Except, apparently, the DOE. My letter today informs me that I only need to pass the teacher’s test in physics and I receive PROFESSIONAL certification in physics. Not initial or preliminary. No extra coursework or higgledy-piggledy. Bam! I’m certified to the hilt.
This offends me. I have had a total of 2 physics courses and those were over 20 years ago. Passing a standardized test should not be the subject-matter criterion for teaching certification. That is a disservice to the students. With all the soapboxing about education and teacher quality, what it comes down to is that they just need warm bodies to stand in front of the chalkboard. At least in certain fields. Admittedly, states are desperate for physics teachers. Few are moronic enough to graduate with a degree in physics and go into education with the laughable salary base. But, this is just not right.
So, I’ll take the physics teacher’s test in March and then could, effectively, write my ticket to any school system. Definitely, I’ll be in a very comfy position at my current school. That thought pleases me…it pleases me quite a bit. I’ll set aside my offense at the hypocrisy of the DOE for now and take advantage of their idiocy. Get your bene’s where you can…
This offends me. I have had a total of 2 physics courses and those were over 20 years ago. Passing a standardized test should not be the subject-matter criterion for teaching certification. That is a disservice to the students. With all the soapboxing about education and teacher quality, what it comes down to is that they just need warm bodies to stand in front of the chalkboard. At least in certain fields. Admittedly, states are desperate for physics teachers. Few are moronic enough to graduate with a degree in physics and go into education with the laughable salary base. But, this is just not right.
So, I’ll take the physics teacher’s test in March and then could, effectively, write my ticket to any school system. Definitely, I’ll be in a very comfy position at my current school. That thought pleases me…it pleases me quite a bit. I’ll set aside my offense at the hypocrisy of the DOE for now and take advantage of their idiocy. Get your bene’s where you can…
Return of the Jedi
I am surprised that it has taken this long for me to get back into gear for writing. Actually, I'm not surprised. I am an incredibly lazy being and anything that I can do to reduce the ins and outs of my day is very likely to happen. With the additional burdens of my life, writing has taken a back seat. A far back seat. The caboose of the train...
This school year finds me wearing a completely different hat. I am certified to teach biology and general science. This stems from my master's degrees in zoology (useful) and teaching (useless). Last year, our department chair/physics teacher left for another job. We could not find a replacement that met the requirements and muster-standards of the administration, so I volunteered to do the job. The school got a waiver for me to teach the courses this year and I have had to teach three totally new classes: Honors Physics, College-Prep Physics and Honors Physical Science. This means new books, new labs, new lectures and dredging into the ebon night of my brain for physics knowlede. It has been painful, but I found that I was enjoying the gig more than I would have suspected.
The kids are good. At least as good as can be expected for high-school students. No more of the bottom of the gene pool. I was actually able to get some teaching accomplished. The labs were clean and easy to set up. No smelly chemicals, no wet and muddy living things, no extended erection and deconstruction of laboratory exercises. So, I decided to make a move towards ensuring a more permanent position for myself with this schedule - I registered to take the state teacher's test for physics.
This is self-flagellation at its most severe. A 40-year old diving back into the world of standardized tests. And a test in physics. Math and more math. Biologists generally run from math as if they were Frankenstein and math was the torch-bearing peasants. But, I have two months to prepare and, in typical fashion, have already concocted my fiendish plan. Month 1 - concepts. Month 2 - mathematics. I have ordered every study guide and practice test for every physics teacher's test in the country, along with the GRE, SAT, etc. I sit in my living room with a wall of study material piled around me like the walls of Jericho. Armed with scrap paper, a calculator and an unending supply of Coke Zero, I plug away every spare moment trying to ensure that I pass the silly exam on the first try. I do not want to take it again (and PAY to take it again) for any reason.
The dogs, of course, hate me now. I am not at their beck and call every minute. They demand puppy-play time and I recite Bernoulli's Principle at them and tell them to scram. I indiscriminately toss biscuits at them to pacify their angst. They rebel by gnawing away at the exterior of my battlements. Every one of my books bears the scars of their wrath. I can't blame them - they view themselves as lords of the manor and their household staff has gone on strike. I'd be cheesed, too.
So, in March, my fate will be decided. Will I morph into a physics teacher or retain my role as biology maven? Either way, I have a job, so I'm not complaining...
This school year finds me wearing a completely different hat. I am certified to teach biology and general science. This stems from my master's degrees in zoology (useful) and teaching (useless). Last year, our department chair/physics teacher left for another job. We could not find a replacement that met the requirements and muster-standards of the administration, so I volunteered to do the job. The school got a waiver for me to teach the courses this year and I have had to teach three totally new classes: Honors Physics, College-Prep Physics and Honors Physical Science. This means new books, new labs, new lectures and dredging into the ebon night of my brain for physics knowlede. It has been painful, but I found that I was enjoying the gig more than I would have suspected.
The kids are good. At least as good as can be expected for high-school students. No more of the bottom of the gene pool. I was actually able to get some teaching accomplished. The labs were clean and easy to set up. No smelly chemicals, no wet and muddy living things, no extended erection and deconstruction of laboratory exercises. So, I decided to make a move towards ensuring a more permanent position for myself with this schedule - I registered to take the state teacher's test for physics.
This is self-flagellation at its most severe. A 40-year old diving back into the world of standardized tests. And a test in physics. Math and more math. Biologists generally run from math as if they were Frankenstein and math was the torch-bearing peasants. But, I have two months to prepare and, in typical fashion, have already concocted my fiendish plan. Month 1 - concepts. Month 2 - mathematics. I have ordered every study guide and practice test for every physics teacher's test in the country, along with the GRE, SAT, etc. I sit in my living room with a wall of study material piled around me like the walls of Jericho. Armed with scrap paper, a calculator and an unending supply of Coke Zero, I plug away every spare moment trying to ensure that I pass the silly exam on the first try. I do not want to take it again (and PAY to take it again) for any reason.
The dogs, of course, hate me now. I am not at their beck and call every minute. They demand puppy-play time and I recite Bernoulli's Principle at them and tell them to scram. I indiscriminately toss biscuits at them to pacify their angst. They rebel by gnawing away at the exterior of my battlements. Every one of my books bears the scars of their wrath. I can't blame them - they view themselves as lords of the manor and their household staff has gone on strike. I'd be cheesed, too.
So, in March, my fate will be decided. Will I morph into a physics teacher or retain my role as biology maven? Either way, I have a job, so I'm not complaining...
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Reading
I had forgotten my passion for reading. For some reason, I have not felt the bug in a long time and, although I continue to buy book after book, I haven't really set aside any real time for reading. This weekend, I was entombed in my home for 4 days and found solace in a few good books. Of course, I also indulged in TV and Xbox, but several hours per day found me curled up on the couch reading some tome that had been gathering dust on my shelves. I can't report that my horizons were broadened or I had my perspective altered by the titles I chose, but I did have fun and enjoyed letting my brain take the quiet path for awhile.
Now, I have an excuse to buy more books...
Now, I have an excuse to buy more books...
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Building an Ark
People around here have been wondering if this would be a prudent use of time. We had 8 solid days of rain and are experiencing the worst flooding since the 1930's. I am lucky. My town didn't fare so badly and I did not have to pump water out of my basement. However, the school at which I teach was closed for 2 days (the elementary school in our district is still closed) due to the water and the whole area experienced closed roads, schools, businesses...people were kayaking in their yards and down sidestreets...since this is a common occurrence in my home state of Louisiana, I was not overly impressed.
But, I had a 4-day weekend. I watched movies, read, played videogames...the only unhappy lifeforms in the house were the dogs. They went stir crazy and began to gang up on me. Rodney, especially, was unhappy as he is not thrilled with rain. This made him very reluctant to go out to poop. But with size comes authority, so I booted him outside and made him stay there until he deposited his business in the appropriate area of the yard.
Friday is the Senior Prom. This means that the juniors and seniors will all be dismissed at 11:00 to get ready. Last Friday was the big band trip to Six Flags. We have awards assemblies, band concerts, etc. galore right now, so one can say the year is officially over.
Yeehah.
But, I had a 4-day weekend. I watched movies, read, played videogames...the only unhappy lifeforms in the house were the dogs. They went stir crazy and began to gang up on me. Rodney, especially, was unhappy as he is not thrilled with rain. This made him very reluctant to go out to poop. But with size comes authority, so I booted him outside and made him stay there until he deposited his business in the appropriate area of the yard.
Friday is the Senior Prom. This means that the juniors and seniors will all be dismissed at 11:00 to get ready. Last Friday was the big band trip to Six Flags. We have awards assemblies, band concerts, etc. galore right now, so one can say the year is officially over.
Yeehah.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Crappy Films
Some films are just dogs - but we love them so. Call them "guilty pleasures" or whatever you please, but everyone has a list of accepted awful films that they just enjoy the hell out of. I got one of the films on my list in the mail today and I'm enjoying it.
I have always loved the Hammer horror films, the vampire ones especially. As a kid, I just fell in love with the edited version of Vampire Circus. When cable television first arrived in my hometown, they showed some interesting stuff. Telefrance USA, for instance, which showed real French programming - nudity and all. That one didn't last long. They also had a few channels that, trying to find some form of programming, showed tons of creaky movies. One of these channels, and I admit its name escapes me (of course I remember the name of the nudie channel), showed lots of old horror films. For some reason this one stuck in my mind and I remember watching it every time I caught it on the tube.
For years, though, I saw neither hide nor hair of that film. In fact, lots of the Hammer films just seemed to vanish from the airwaves. So did many of the 1950's-1970's horror and scifi flicks. The days of cheese-a-thons on the local tv stations were distant memory. No more begging to stay awake to watch Shock Theater - it wasn't there to watch. Its hard for me to imagine kids growing up today without a diet of hastily-made cheapie films to enjoy with friends and popcorn.
But, one day I got a hair across my behind to try and find a copy of Vampire Circus on DVD. That was a laugh. The VHS version has gone the way of the Dodo. There was a DVD version that was basically out of print, and only ever produced for the European format. Meaning, it wouldn't play on my machine, even if I could grab a copy of some friendly European. Now, this situation was what I learned from checking Amazon. Ok, says I...the hunt now begins. If I've learned one thing in life is that anything is possible if you look/try hard enough.
First, a general Internet search for Vampire Circus. Plenty of reviews and write-ups. Any links to purchasable copies listed prices in Euros. Not a good sign. There were some Hammer collections that contained the film, but, again they weren't in the right format. The collections available to the US market all lacked my desired flick. Now, I figured that I couldn't be the only American to every have looked for this film or for another crapfest only available overseas. This meant, to me, that some enterprising soul must exist out there whose sole purpose was to satisfy our odd cravings. More research was required...
...before finding that enterprising individual. Or individuals, it is a company. Canadian, they specialize in making certain films available. They pointedly state that they films they offer are not those available for general distribution in the US. They also pointedly state that the quality of their product is what one would expect for older films. Ok. Here's what they do. They but European DVD's of titles not made available over here and copy them for resale to the US market. Hey, they may have license to do that...I'm sure the paperwork is in order. All I know is that they got me a playable DVD copy of Vampire Circus for $26.99. The quality is good, too. About what I would expect if I purchased this off the rack at a video store. My crappy film is now mine...
Some days just call for crap films. Today is one of those days. Snowy, with the hint of "gotta go back to work Monday" in the air. Luxuriating in an old favorite with plenty of Coke Zero (at least one will get a bit of Stoli Vanilla tossed in) is a perfect way to pass the hours. Now, if I can just hunt down my copy of Johnny Mnemonic, I'll really be in hog heaven...
I have always loved the Hammer horror films, the vampire ones especially. As a kid, I just fell in love with the edited version of Vampire Circus. When cable television first arrived in my hometown, they showed some interesting stuff. Telefrance USA, for instance, which showed real French programming - nudity and all. That one didn't last long. They also had a few channels that, trying to find some form of programming, showed tons of creaky movies. One of these channels, and I admit its name escapes me (of course I remember the name of the nudie channel), showed lots of old horror films. For some reason this one stuck in my mind and I remember watching it every time I caught it on the tube.
For years, though, I saw neither hide nor hair of that film. In fact, lots of the Hammer films just seemed to vanish from the airwaves. So did many of the 1950's-1970's horror and scifi flicks. The days of cheese-a-thons on the local tv stations were distant memory. No more begging to stay awake to watch Shock Theater - it wasn't there to watch. Its hard for me to imagine kids growing up today without a diet of hastily-made cheapie films to enjoy with friends and popcorn.
But, one day I got a hair across my behind to try and find a copy of Vampire Circus on DVD. That was a laugh. The VHS version has gone the way of the Dodo. There was a DVD version that was basically out of print, and only ever produced for the European format. Meaning, it wouldn't play on my machine, even if I could grab a copy of some friendly European. Now, this situation was what I learned from checking Amazon. Ok, says I...the hunt now begins. If I've learned one thing in life is that anything is possible if you look/try hard enough.
First, a general Internet search for Vampire Circus. Plenty of reviews and write-ups. Any links to purchasable copies listed prices in Euros. Not a good sign. There were some Hammer collections that contained the film, but, again they weren't in the right format. The collections available to the US market all lacked my desired flick. Now, I figured that I couldn't be the only American to every have looked for this film or for another crapfest only available overseas. This meant, to me, that some enterprising soul must exist out there whose sole purpose was to satisfy our odd cravings. More research was required...
...before finding that enterprising individual. Or individuals, it is a company. Canadian, they specialize in making certain films available. They pointedly state that they films they offer are not those available for general distribution in the US. They also pointedly state that the quality of their product is what one would expect for older films. Ok. Here's what they do. They but European DVD's of titles not made available over here and copy them for resale to the US market. Hey, they may have license to do that...I'm sure the paperwork is in order. All I know is that they got me a playable DVD copy of Vampire Circus for $26.99. The quality is good, too. About what I would expect if I purchased this off the rack at a video store. My crappy film is now mine...
Some days just call for crap films. Today is one of those days. Snowy, with the hint of "gotta go back to work Monday" in the air. Luxuriating in an old favorite with plenty of Coke Zero (at least one will get a bit of Stoli Vanilla tossed in) is a perfect way to pass the hours. Now, if I can just hunt down my copy of Johnny Mnemonic, I'll really be in hog heaven...
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Dogs Declare Shenanigans
Make no mistake - they formally notified me that they would be operating under a flag of shenanigans until further notice. I went upstairs to visit the loo and was astonished to be visited within a minute by two balls of defiance. That was the first time they had climbed the stairs by themselves. I knew there was going to be trouble as they both carried something indistinguishable, yet derelict in their mouths...
Since that declaration, they have been racing up and down the stairs at full tilt, pausing only to pee in new and exciting spots on the second floor. They have dragged the bedding off of my guest bed, which is an impressive accomplishment seeing as it is a king-size set. They have eaten two socks, neither of which matched so that I am now down two pairs. The have played "catch me if you can" with a Sharpie, sans cap. Luckily, my walls do not bear any evidence of this particular game. They have started to latch onto each of my legs, one dog per, and making me walk them around the kitchen like a carnival ride. They have tried to chew the paint off the metal heater cover. I stopped that with the liberal application of Tabasco, however...
Vacation is such a wonderful time...I hope it ends soon...
Since that declaration, they have been racing up and down the stairs at full tilt, pausing only to pee in new and exciting spots on the second floor. They have dragged the bedding off of my guest bed, which is an impressive accomplishment seeing as it is a king-size set. They have eaten two socks, neither of which matched so that I am now down two pairs. The have played "catch me if you can" with a Sharpie, sans cap. Luckily, my walls do not bear any evidence of this particular game. They have started to latch onto each of my legs, one dog per, and making me walk them around the kitchen like a carnival ride. They have tried to chew the paint off the metal heater cover. I stopped that with the liberal application of Tabasco, however...
Vacation is such a wonderful time...I hope it ends soon...
Friday, February 17, 2006
And I Keep on Payin'
The only reason I don't get too upset over life is that I do believe everything is fixable and luck goes in cycles. Right now the cycle is doing the bottom part of its loop...
My best friend was going to fly up for my birthday. Of course, I found out that we can't get off of work due to the fact that a grant-funded enrichment program will be going on at that time and I have to be at work. Flippin' wonderful. I have to miss out on celebrating my 40th in style to handhold a pack of sophomores...
My wrist hurts...
My wallet went missing yesterday. I think it was swiped at school, but I don't know for sure. I realized it was gone yesterday afternoon and had to spend the whole evening cancelling credit cards, trying to remember things I had set on Autopay, placing fraud alerts on my credit reports, telling my refinance representative not to panic when he saw fraud alerts on my accounts, listing all the grocery, drugstore and pet store cards I have to replace, etc. At least I don't carry cash or checks in my wallet...
Today is warm and muggy, my head hurts and I'm in a foul mood...I don't need a crystal ball to know there's a rum and Coke Zero in my near future...
My best friend was going to fly up for my birthday. Of course, I found out that we can't get off of work due to the fact that a grant-funded enrichment program will be going on at that time and I have to be at work. Flippin' wonderful. I have to miss out on celebrating my 40th in style to handhold a pack of sophomores...
My wrist hurts...
My wallet went missing yesterday. I think it was swiped at school, but I don't know for sure. I realized it was gone yesterday afternoon and had to spend the whole evening cancelling credit cards, trying to remember things I had set on Autopay, placing fraud alerts on my credit reports, telling my refinance representative not to panic when he saw fraud alerts on my accounts, listing all the grocery, drugstore and pet store cards I have to replace, etc. At least I don't carry cash or checks in my wallet...
Today is warm and muggy, my head hurts and I'm in a foul mood...I don't need a crystal ball to know there's a rum and Coke Zero in my near future...
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
I Pay Every Day
That's my motto. Really. Know how you say "I'm going to pay for this" in certain situations? Well, my motto is I Pay Every Day. Maybe that's why I don't get overly psyched over things - I know that the hand will be proferred for payment at any moment.
Saturday was gorgeous and brought me my XBox 360. Sunday dumped 12+ inches of snow on our heads, but it was beautiful to watch. Plus, school called to cancel Monday's classes Sunday evening, so I could sleep in on Monday and have the day to myself after the final snow clearing in the morning.
Tuesday. What a crapola day it has been. The day started by the dogs being bad. Dogs Behaving Badly. Bark, yap, growl - repeat ad nauseum. Nip, bite, chew - repead ad infinitum. So, I decided to take them walking to burn off some of their pent-up energy. That was so incredibly stupid that I should be flogged. Rambunctious puppies on icy sidewalks...I am currently wearing the wrist brace I got as a reward for having the numbest skull in creation. I went down on the ice, using my left hand to try and stop my fall. Got a nice sprain for my trouble. Actually, its not overly bad; I have to wear my brace for a few days and I should be ok. But, that meant another day off of work as I got it checked out.
Then, the sun was making me sick. Really. It does that sometimes. Despite the fact that I have seasonal affective disorder, I am actually disabled by overly bright sunlight. Combine a blazing sun with a whited-out landscape and my head was pounding. That, in turn, made me nauseous. And the dogs just would not stop their shenanigans. Ugghhhhh...
I finally had to hide upstairs in my bedroom with the door closed just to get some quiet, dark rest. I was nice - I left the backdoor open to the patio for the dogs to play and pee, but I was not going to bring them upstairs with me. When I felt a little better, I filled the tub and just soaked for awhile in cool water. Dried off, donned warm sweats and toddled downstairs to find the pups curled in a big ball o' dog, emitting little contented snores. Bastards.
I am now gearing up to grab a snack and a beverage and take it easy. Must find my way back to the salt mines tomorrow. Its going to be tough, I have only one hand with which to wallop the students...
Saturday was gorgeous and brought me my XBox 360. Sunday dumped 12+ inches of snow on our heads, but it was beautiful to watch. Plus, school called to cancel Monday's classes Sunday evening, so I could sleep in on Monday and have the day to myself after the final snow clearing in the morning.
Tuesday. What a crapola day it has been. The day started by the dogs being bad. Dogs Behaving Badly. Bark, yap, growl - repeat ad nauseum. Nip, bite, chew - repead ad infinitum. So, I decided to take them walking to burn off some of their pent-up energy. That was so incredibly stupid that I should be flogged. Rambunctious puppies on icy sidewalks...I am currently wearing the wrist brace I got as a reward for having the numbest skull in creation. I went down on the ice, using my left hand to try and stop my fall. Got a nice sprain for my trouble. Actually, its not overly bad; I have to wear my brace for a few days and I should be ok. But, that meant another day off of work as I got it checked out.
Then, the sun was making me sick. Really. It does that sometimes. Despite the fact that I have seasonal affective disorder, I am actually disabled by overly bright sunlight. Combine a blazing sun with a whited-out landscape and my head was pounding. That, in turn, made me nauseous. And the dogs just would not stop their shenanigans. Ugghhhhh...
I finally had to hide upstairs in my bedroom with the door closed just to get some quiet, dark rest. I was nice - I left the backdoor open to the patio for the dogs to play and pee, but I was not going to bring them upstairs with me. When I felt a little better, I filled the tub and just soaked for awhile in cool water. Dried off, donned warm sweats and toddled downstairs to find the pups curled in a big ball o' dog, emitting little contented snores. Bastards.
I am now gearing up to grab a snack and a beverage and take it easy. Must find my way back to the salt mines tomorrow. Its going to be tough, I have only one hand with which to wallop the students...
Monday, February 13, 2006
Doughnuts
or is it Donuts? I don't know, but I do know that there are a lot of things out there passing as donuts that were not around when I was a kid.
Yesterday was a major snowstorm that required multiple shovelings to completely clear. Shoveling last night, shoveling this morning...I needed coffee. And not hot coffee, I was already sweating from shoveling. Who has iced coffee in February? Dunkin Donuts - the black spectre of commercial America. Well...what are you gonna do?
The dogs had actually been good, so I took them with me with the intention of allowing them a Munchkin apiece. Not surprisingly, the line was a mile long...an army of snow-boot clad New Englanders taking a well deserved break from winter. While waiting, I had time to consider the donut assortment behind the counter and realized just how much times had changed.
Admitedly, being Southern, Krispy Kreme was the donut of choice in my youth and the varities offered were limited. Glazed, jelly, chocolate covered, cream-filled and cake. That was about it. There were usually a few different shapes or types, such as bear claws or crullers, but there were just variations on a common theme. And we were thankful. All we wanted was something sweet, soft and warm and this assortment suited any mood. Now, jelly donuts are stuffed with a myriad of fruit or cream fillings. Donuts have any sort of ingredients in the batter and an incalculable universe of toppings and dustings. It was amazing at how many permutations of donut could be concocted. And that doesn't count the seasonal, limited-time creatures that show up regularly. I just know that green donuts will be available for purchase come St. Patrick's Day.
And muffins, bagels, flavored coffees...It is just nutty. Coffee and a donut is a thing that has passed beyond one of life's simple pleasures....
Yesterday was a major snowstorm that required multiple shovelings to completely clear. Shoveling last night, shoveling this morning...I needed coffee. And not hot coffee, I was already sweating from shoveling. Who has iced coffee in February? Dunkin Donuts - the black spectre of commercial America. Well...what are you gonna do?
The dogs had actually been good, so I took them with me with the intention of allowing them a Munchkin apiece. Not surprisingly, the line was a mile long...an army of snow-boot clad New Englanders taking a well deserved break from winter. While waiting, I had time to consider the donut assortment behind the counter and realized just how much times had changed.
Admitedly, being Southern, Krispy Kreme was the donut of choice in my youth and the varities offered were limited. Glazed, jelly, chocolate covered, cream-filled and cake. That was about it. There were usually a few different shapes or types, such as bear claws or crullers, but there were just variations on a common theme. And we were thankful. All we wanted was something sweet, soft and warm and this assortment suited any mood. Now, jelly donuts are stuffed with a myriad of fruit or cream fillings. Donuts have any sort of ingredients in the batter and an incalculable universe of toppings and dustings. It was amazing at how many permutations of donut could be concocted. And that doesn't count the seasonal, limited-time creatures that show up regularly. I just know that green donuts will be available for purchase come St. Patrick's Day.
And muffins, bagels, flavored coffees...It is just nutty. Coffee and a donut is a thing that has passed beyond one of life's simple pleasures....
Saturday, February 11, 2006
A Day of Days
Some days just focus the energy of the times into one wacky 24 hours. Today is such a day.
It started at the unholy hour of 4:32 am. Rodney decidecd that he simply had to go to the bathroom and was not taking "no" for an answer. He licked my nose, whined in my ear, scratched at the covers...then Perkunas joined added his efforts and I was outvoted. So, throw on clothes, grab glasses and navigate the stairs to bring the dogs downstairs. This is trickier than it sounds - my stairs are fairly steep and I have to carry the dogs, one in each arm, since they are too stubborn to traverse the steps on their own.
Open the back door and get hit with a blast of 10 degree air. The dogs tried to balk on going outside, but a slippered foot to their backsides changed all that. After they had eliminated everything that a dog can eliminate, I let them back into the house. Normally, I would head back upstairs, put on my contacts and begin my day. Not today. I decided to toss off the slippers and glasses and bury myself under the blankets on the couch. Oh, just one more precious hour of sleep...
Warmly bundled, I began to drift off when I felt something banging on my face. Rodney was doing a popcorn dance trying to get on the couch and ramming his nose onto my face to garner my assistance. Yeah....so, up he comes and promptly splays himself on my face and begins that deep, fast breathing that signals a dog actively trying to fall asleep. So, I wriggle my nose so that it is breathing fresh air and not puppy penis and drift off.
I didn't wake for 3 1/2 hours. I haven't slept until 8:00 am for years. Rodney had changed position, perched on my head like a hat and Perkunas had joined us, clutching my foot like a teddy bear. It took an act of Congress to get those two lazy bones to move and even more effort to get them fed and ready to meet the day. And it was a day lacking an agenda. The sky was crystal clear and the sun was blazing, despite the cold. The big issue was the approaching storm. We are slated to see 12 or more inches of snow between tonight and tomorrow afternoon. So, the only real objective was to be sure that the house was stocked with provisions. That meant plenty of Coke Zero and microwave popcorn. But, my eye spied the bag of chicken breast jerky that the dogs love as a special treat. It was getting low. That indicated a trip to Costco. What the heck.
Dogs gathered, purse found, car pre-warmed using the remote starter. Yeah. Oh, need gas. Drat. Just the thing for ridiculously low temperatures, standing around filling the tank. Of course, the gloves have to come off or they get impregnated with gas fumes. So, fuel and freeze. Finally, on the Interstate. The dogs have to stand on my lap today and try to drive. They also try to lick my nose. Fortunately, the traffic was light and no innocent lives were lost during the trip. Got to Costco with only a glimmer of a plan. Buy dog chicken and putter about - that about summed it up. Then I walked in the door...
I could see it from afar. Human eyes are sensitive to three things in order: motion, color and form. It wasn't moving, but the color was unmistakable. White, green and silver. XBox 360. There it was. I covered the distance between the door and the display faster than the speed of light. Oooohhhh....console, hard drive, 2 wireless controllers, Ethernet cable and one game. $489.00. Normally, I would throw up a little in my mouth while contemplating a three-figure purchase, but this was sweet. And they were going fast. While examining the package, I was hit by several sets of hands grabbing units. Not going to leave me in the cold. Mine, mine, mine......
Well, that purchase made a trip to Best Buy an imperative. Had to get games and I found 3 that will suffice for now, Quake 4, Perfect Dark Zero and Kameo. Drat that I still had groceries to buy before going home. And the grocery was a zoo. Everyone was stockpiling for the storm, so lines were long and cashiers were cranky. But, supplies purchased (including a carrot muffin for the dogs as a treat), I screamed home as fast as the RAV 4 could take me to get my game system set up.
Surprisingly, connection of game console to TV was easy. Usually, I wind up pulling out my hair getting configurations correct, but this was a snap. Oooohhhhhh....,46" widescreen HDTV filled with gaming action. Stupidly, I started with Quake 4. I forgot that 1st person engine games can make me nauseous. I had to putter around with some XBox Live arcade games to calm my stomach before I could go back to some serious slaughter. Hee hee hee....
My neighbor is doing some major home renovation, so my walls are rattling a bit. I am reciprocating with laser blasts and the death screams of mutant humans. Let the snow fall...I am so ready....
It started at the unholy hour of 4:32 am. Rodney decidecd that he simply had to go to the bathroom and was not taking "no" for an answer. He licked my nose, whined in my ear, scratched at the covers...then Perkunas joined added his efforts and I was outvoted. So, throw on clothes, grab glasses and navigate the stairs to bring the dogs downstairs. This is trickier than it sounds - my stairs are fairly steep and I have to carry the dogs, one in each arm, since they are too stubborn to traverse the steps on their own.
Open the back door and get hit with a blast of 10 degree air. The dogs tried to balk on going outside, but a slippered foot to their backsides changed all that. After they had eliminated everything that a dog can eliminate, I let them back into the house. Normally, I would head back upstairs, put on my contacts and begin my day. Not today. I decided to toss off the slippers and glasses and bury myself under the blankets on the couch. Oh, just one more precious hour of sleep...
Warmly bundled, I began to drift off when I felt something banging on my face. Rodney was doing a popcorn dance trying to get on the couch and ramming his nose onto my face to garner my assistance. Yeah....so, up he comes and promptly splays himself on my face and begins that deep, fast breathing that signals a dog actively trying to fall asleep. So, I wriggle my nose so that it is breathing fresh air and not puppy penis and drift off.
I didn't wake for 3 1/2 hours. I haven't slept until 8:00 am for years. Rodney had changed position, perched on my head like a hat and Perkunas had joined us, clutching my foot like a teddy bear. It took an act of Congress to get those two lazy bones to move and even more effort to get them fed and ready to meet the day. And it was a day lacking an agenda. The sky was crystal clear and the sun was blazing, despite the cold. The big issue was the approaching storm. We are slated to see 12 or more inches of snow between tonight and tomorrow afternoon. So, the only real objective was to be sure that the house was stocked with provisions. That meant plenty of Coke Zero and microwave popcorn. But, my eye spied the bag of chicken breast jerky that the dogs love as a special treat. It was getting low. That indicated a trip to Costco. What the heck.
Dogs gathered, purse found, car pre-warmed using the remote starter. Yeah. Oh, need gas. Drat. Just the thing for ridiculously low temperatures, standing around filling the tank. Of course, the gloves have to come off or they get impregnated with gas fumes. So, fuel and freeze. Finally, on the Interstate. The dogs have to stand on my lap today and try to drive. They also try to lick my nose. Fortunately, the traffic was light and no innocent lives were lost during the trip. Got to Costco with only a glimmer of a plan. Buy dog chicken and putter about - that about summed it up. Then I walked in the door...
I could see it from afar. Human eyes are sensitive to three things in order: motion, color and form. It wasn't moving, but the color was unmistakable. White, green and silver. XBox 360. There it was. I covered the distance between the door and the display faster than the speed of light. Oooohhhh....console, hard drive, 2 wireless controllers, Ethernet cable and one game. $489.00. Normally, I would throw up a little in my mouth while contemplating a three-figure purchase, but this was sweet. And they were going fast. While examining the package, I was hit by several sets of hands grabbing units. Not going to leave me in the cold. Mine, mine, mine......
Well, that purchase made a trip to Best Buy an imperative. Had to get games and I found 3 that will suffice for now, Quake 4, Perfect Dark Zero and Kameo. Drat that I still had groceries to buy before going home. And the grocery was a zoo. Everyone was stockpiling for the storm, so lines were long and cashiers were cranky. But, supplies purchased (including a carrot muffin for the dogs as a treat), I screamed home as fast as the RAV 4 could take me to get my game system set up.
Surprisingly, connection of game console to TV was easy. Usually, I wind up pulling out my hair getting configurations correct, but this was a snap. Oooohhhhhh....,46" widescreen HDTV filled with gaming action. Stupidly, I started with Quake 4. I forgot that 1st person engine games can make me nauseous. I had to putter around with some XBox Live arcade games to calm my stomach before I could go back to some serious slaughter. Hee hee hee....
My neighbor is doing some major home renovation, so my walls are rattling a bit. I am reciprocating with laser blasts and the death screams of mutant humans. Let the snow fall...I am so ready....
Friday, February 10, 2006
The Perception of Language
A student of mine started a blog and I have been reading and commenting on his entries. I have noticed lately that his thoughts have centered on the flaws (as he sees them)with the English language. He has commented on the lack of need for capital letters at the start of sentences (punctuation should tell you when sentences start and stop) and the stupidity of silent letters in words. Both are interesting thoughts, but would carry more weight if they were written by someone who cannot string together one sentence that has correct spelling, structure or punctuation. He CAN do it; I have read his research papers. In his casual writing, though, he eshews all manner of language rules. This is not a conscious rebellion; this is pure laziness and a lack of understanding as to the importance of language.
I admit to being a language snob. Not that I am any expert, I make more mistakes than is tolerable for an educated person. However, I usually catch my mistakes and take pains to correct them, if possible. That is because I realize that individuals are judged by the quality of language they use in both verbal and written situations. Our first impression of a person is formed from their appearance. Anyone who says that people are not judged by their appearance is an utopian fool. Our second impression of an individual is formed from their speech. If they sound like a moron, we assume they are one; if they sound smart, we assume that condition. The pattern and sophistication of speech may not reflect the person's intellectual ability or societal worth, but there's not getting around the fact that we draw conclusions based on speech quality and, further, we act on those conclusions.
The same is true for writing. Students don't seem to understand that their writing is taken as evidence of their capabilities and this is why colleges use essays to help assess candidates. Further, more and more employers are screening prospective hires with written exercises. Success in the career world is heavily dependent on one's writing ability and, further, one's verbal skills. Yes, English is a wacky language that could use an enema to clean out and simplify. But, it really doesn't take a super-genius to master and demonstrate the basics. If these kids can conquer the inner workings of XBox 360, they can conquer subject-verb agreement...
I admit to being a language snob. Not that I am any expert, I make more mistakes than is tolerable for an educated person. However, I usually catch my mistakes and take pains to correct them, if possible. That is because I realize that individuals are judged by the quality of language they use in both verbal and written situations. Our first impression of a person is formed from their appearance. Anyone who says that people are not judged by their appearance is an utopian fool. Our second impression of an individual is formed from their speech. If they sound like a moron, we assume they are one; if they sound smart, we assume that condition. The pattern and sophistication of speech may not reflect the person's intellectual ability or societal worth, but there's not getting around the fact that we draw conclusions based on speech quality and, further, we act on those conclusions.
The same is true for writing. Students don't seem to understand that their writing is taken as evidence of their capabilities and this is why colleges use essays to help assess candidates. Further, more and more employers are screening prospective hires with written exercises. Success in the career world is heavily dependent on one's writing ability and, further, one's verbal skills. Yes, English is a wacky language that could use an enema to clean out and simplify. But, it really doesn't take a super-genius to master and demonstrate the basics. If these kids can conquer the inner workings of XBox 360, they can conquer subject-verb agreement...
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Boobs
Oh how I hate them. I have never in my entire life enjoyed having boobs. One of the nicest benefits about dwindling to a stick figure for some years was that I didn't have to worry about boobs. I swear that I would swallow a tapeworm, if I could find an sterilized one, to shrivel me once more so as to lose my boobs.
I have never been a very feminine femme. Unlike others of the Double-X Sisterhood, I do not rejoice in makeup, new shoes, frilly accessories or sultry underwear. I guess I'm just too pragmatic to worry about such things. I wear cheap makeup (the only reason I wear any at all is that it keeps me from looking dead) and buy my shoes, accessories and underpants at Walmart. I don't really work to coordinate outfits and have never, ever, considered matching undergarments with each other, let alone with my outerwear. It appears to me that women who love these sorts of things enjoy their mammary tissue. They shop for underwear that highlights their curves and makes their boobs look as spectacular as possible. They buy clothes that suit their boobs. An outfit that is not sufficiently boobalicious does not make it out of the dressing room.
I buy cheap bras. As long as they keep my boobs from flopping around, any brand or style is acceptable. Well,that's not true - I hate underwire. The damn things just seem to pinch no matter what. But, I never choose a bra for its boob-enhancing qualities. Even with small boobs, I never worried about push-ups or push-togethers or any of that nonsense. I was content to wear NO bra and a joy it was. Boobs that just stayed put and didn't get in the way of anything. That's the ticket. But since I again have boobs with which to deal, the cheapest bra in the world is more than enough.
Boobs flop and plop and move and groove in ways that I do not find appealing. I don't like part of me jigging left when I'm jagging right. I don't like that I want to nip into the bathroom on a warm day to give the underside of my boobs a wipedown. I don't like that they're squishy to poke at and painful if you poke too hard. A well-planted poodle foot can give a boob a right painful prod. I just don't like the way they feel. They seem to detract from "clean" movement.
I doubt that I will ever become fast friends with my boobs. They just don't fit well with my mindset and lifestyle. I wish they offered liposuction for boobs. I'd be first in line as soon as the clinic opened...
I have never been a very feminine femme. Unlike others of the Double-X Sisterhood, I do not rejoice in makeup, new shoes, frilly accessories or sultry underwear. I guess I'm just too pragmatic to worry about such things. I wear cheap makeup (the only reason I wear any at all is that it keeps me from looking dead) and buy my shoes, accessories and underpants at Walmart. I don't really work to coordinate outfits and have never, ever, considered matching undergarments with each other, let alone with my outerwear. It appears to me that women who love these sorts of things enjoy their mammary tissue. They shop for underwear that highlights their curves and makes their boobs look as spectacular as possible. They buy clothes that suit their boobs. An outfit that is not sufficiently boobalicious does not make it out of the dressing room.
I buy cheap bras. As long as they keep my boobs from flopping around, any brand or style is acceptable. Well,that's not true - I hate underwire. The damn things just seem to pinch no matter what. But, I never choose a bra for its boob-enhancing qualities. Even with small boobs, I never worried about push-ups or push-togethers or any of that nonsense. I was content to wear NO bra and a joy it was. Boobs that just stayed put and didn't get in the way of anything. That's the ticket. But since I again have boobs with which to deal, the cheapest bra in the world is more than enough.
Boobs flop and plop and move and groove in ways that I do not find appealing. I don't like part of me jigging left when I'm jagging right. I don't like that I want to nip into the bathroom on a warm day to give the underside of my boobs a wipedown. I don't like that they're squishy to poke at and painful if you poke too hard. A well-planted poodle foot can give a boob a right painful prod. I just don't like the way they feel. They seem to detract from "clean" movement.
I doubt that I will ever become fast friends with my boobs. They just don't fit well with my mindset and lifestyle. I wish they offered liposuction for boobs. I'd be first in line as soon as the clinic opened...
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
The Fire Alarm
A kid threw a match in the wastebasket in the boy's bathroom today, forcing us out of the building. At least the idiot picked a decent day to go pyro on us. Mid-40's and partly sunny. I'll take that.
The funny thing about fire alarms is that the kids all yell "Yeah" in unison with the first flash of the light and whoop of the bell. Teachers groan and beging to fumble around for our keys and a blank notecard and pen. We are supposed to exit the building, keeping our class together, and record the attendance. Did everyone make it out alive? Yes or no. Of course, this is theory. In practice, once the kids hit the door, they scatter in all directions like hairspray out of an aerosol can. Some race up the hill behind the school, hoping for a quick smoke. Some play hide and seek among the cars. Most just flow together in one big mass of smelly humanity. I was lucky in that the class in which the alarm sounded was my honors class. Good kids who actually clotted together long enough for me to account for all heads before going off to find their friends.
Luckily this was a minor event. We've only had one serious evacuation of the building during my tenure, and that was in response to a vaguely threatening note found on the floor at the height of the Columbine paranoia. That was a nuisance. It was cold, rainy and we were outside for several hours before the students were sent home. They were totally off-kilter in that they had to leave everything behind in the school. No one was allowed back in to get personal items. We teachers decided the policy of building exclusion did not apply to us and we snuck back into our classrooms for purses, keys and laptops.
I had to laugh, though, at the new student that I got for my honors class today. He's a foreign exchange student from Sweden and this was his first day. He had originally been slated to be placed in another biology section that is filled with monkeys. Behavior problems and non-motivated kids. Not really a good environment for a kid away from home in a different country. So, I volunteered to put him in my honors section, since those kids are very sweet and happy. So, poor kid walks right into a class filled with bubbly kids and then we flee the building under an umbrella of flashes and sirens. Welcome to America.
So, the administration will now spend time trying to find the culprit. I'm sure, by now, every kid in the building knows who did it, but management will likely never solve the case. Basically, same ol' story for almost every occurrence in school. I'm just happy it didn't cut into my prep time this afternoon. I needed my nap and Diet Coke...
The funny thing about fire alarms is that the kids all yell "Yeah" in unison with the first flash of the light and whoop of the bell. Teachers groan and beging to fumble around for our keys and a blank notecard and pen. We are supposed to exit the building, keeping our class together, and record the attendance. Did everyone make it out alive? Yes or no. Of course, this is theory. In practice, once the kids hit the door, they scatter in all directions like hairspray out of an aerosol can. Some race up the hill behind the school, hoping for a quick smoke. Some play hide and seek among the cars. Most just flow together in one big mass of smelly humanity. I was lucky in that the class in which the alarm sounded was my honors class. Good kids who actually clotted together long enough for me to account for all heads before going off to find their friends.
Luckily this was a minor event. We've only had one serious evacuation of the building during my tenure, and that was in response to a vaguely threatening note found on the floor at the height of the Columbine paranoia. That was a nuisance. It was cold, rainy and we were outside for several hours before the students were sent home. They were totally off-kilter in that they had to leave everything behind in the school. No one was allowed back in to get personal items. We teachers decided the policy of building exclusion did not apply to us and we snuck back into our classrooms for purses, keys and laptops.
I had to laugh, though, at the new student that I got for my honors class today. He's a foreign exchange student from Sweden and this was his first day. He had originally been slated to be placed in another biology section that is filled with monkeys. Behavior problems and non-motivated kids. Not really a good environment for a kid away from home in a different country. So, I volunteered to put him in my honors section, since those kids are very sweet and happy. So, poor kid walks right into a class filled with bubbly kids and then we flee the building under an umbrella of flashes and sirens. Welcome to America.
So, the administration will now spend time trying to find the culprit. I'm sure, by now, every kid in the building knows who did it, but management will likely never solve the case. Basically, same ol' story for almost every occurrence in school. I'm just happy it didn't cut into my prep time this afternoon. I needed my nap and Diet Coke...
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