Saturday Afternoon with Pirates

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…

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…

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…

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...

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…

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?

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…

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…

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...