I am so thankful that it is Friday. Kristie, KoKo, and I are going camping with some friends. It will be nice to get away and relax. Kristie has turned me into an outdoors person. I never thought this possible. I've always enjoyed tubing and jobbing, but as for being a lake or camping person or grill out in the backyard person - no. Last summer she had me to the lake just about every weekend. So far this summer we have spent several evenings outside - usually biking (she bought me a new bike for father's day. Unfortunately, I took it out for our usual six mile jaunt - on a really nice bike path that used to be rail road tracks but our city had them removed and the path paved - but on the way back, I ran over a branch, which punctured my rear tire. This left me stranded about three miles from home. So I hid the bike in the bushes at the end of the bike path and trudged home.
Three times in the past week we've been out in the yard playing sport toss (I've been informed that it's not "Spot Toss"). I have yet to beat Kristie in a single match. So we likely won't be out playing anymore of that worthless game.
********
Two days left at the ALC. I'm not looking forward to grading the research papers from my Accessing Information class. They only had to do a 2-3 page research papers (plus a works cited). But trying to accomplish that in 9 days was impossible. There is just too much to try and get them to understand. After all I'm dealing with some kids who just can't even write complete sentences - and they're supposed to understand in-text citation and how to craft a works cited? Oh man. They are (as am I) over their heads.
But most put in good efforts and learned a lot. The form - though - will be a nightmare to read.
*******
I've been thinking about the projects for the RRVWP. I have to write three pieces from three different genres. One has to be a research based piece. I haven't heard back about my proposal, so I am thinking of just going ahead and expanding that into an essay. At least I'll get some use out of it.
I am also thinking about writing a poem. I came across a student essay in a writing text that chronicled all the things that were lost when he father was struck with Alzheimer's. In a flash she lost all of his memories, his smile, her connection to his family, all of his little idiosyncrasies. So this got me thinking about all of the things that were taken with Dad - his jokes, his bright blue eyes, his stories, all his memories and images of my mother and us, his routine calls, his advice. I could mine that for a lot of powerful things. Another poem idea I have been kicking around is about his knife. I don't know anything more than that. It is just one of the last symbols I have left. I just have a feeling if I sat down with it and started writing, something good would come out of it.
For the third piece, I'm thinking of writing a creative nonfiction piece on my grandmother. I might use it to add to my memoir on her. Mom used to tell of Granny bringing a dead cat to class and dissecting it. That is all I know. And now Mom is gone, and so is the source to confirm this. I've asked my relatives, and they certainly think it's plausible. So I'm going to invent the rest. Maybe it will end up being a really creative nonfiction piece, but a lot of the story is already in place. I just need time to get it out.
Finally, I have to give an hour long presentation. The last time I was there I presented on my take on revision (using ideas from Peter Elbow and Pat Belanoff's "A Community of Writers" text. It went over extremely well. But now I don't know what to do for a follow up. I've thought about doing something on using blogs in a writing class. Of course, this is something I haven't done yet, but I'd like to in my College Comp class next year. I could talk about my plans and get other teachers' feedback. I also am thinking about presenting on writing a braided essay. This is something that comes quite naturally to me and I would love to teach it in my College Comp class. The final idea I have is about a prewriting exercise I do in my Comp classes. I have students draw a childhood map. I borrowed this idea from Bill Roorbach's "Writing Life Stories." It works great to generate ideas. Then I'd also talk about how to build the narratives from there and focus on the details of their narratives.
No matter what I decide, I'm going to be busy.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Upcoming Ideas and Projects
Wonders never cease. In my attempt to stop being a grumpy old bastard, I've made a pledge to have a more positive outlook on my profession. It's funny because I honest believe I am an optimist. But looking back at some of my blog entries, I seem like one negative SOB. Even Kristie and Casey have mentioned how pessimistic I am at times. And that just isn't me. I mean for Pete's Sake, I'm a Bengals fan. How can I not be an optimist. Until 2005, the last time they had a winning season was 1991, my junior year in high school! That's a long time between winning seasons, yet I stayed true. So how can I not be an optimist?
But it's true. So I've made a pledge to lighten things up and be more positive. I'm sure that will be good news to a few readers out there.
One thing that has changed my perspective is the book "Jefferson's Children" by Leon Botstein. That book is dedicated to dispelling several myths around our culture and education system (in addition to calling for the disbanding high school completely). Botstein makes an interesting point that, I think, is part of the reason I've become so negative recently. He believes that most Americans have fallen victim to looking back at an idealized past that never really existed. He argues that as we get older, we tend to become more dissatisfied with our present. That causes us, naturally, to reflect on our past. And the worse we perceive ourselves to be, the better we tend to view our past, even if it wasn't really that much better.
I can clearly see how I have fallen victim to this. Often I find myself thinking or telling a colleague, "What happened to the way things used to be?" And the time I am referring to is from an idealized past. It's not like when I was in high school or college things were perfect. Maybe I just lacked the perspective I now have, so I never noticed some of the problems around me. Or maybe now I am looking back at my former years with rose colored glasses.
I suppose this isn't always bad. It has helped my writing quite a bit since I've spent a lot of time - especially since my parents died - mining the past for topics and material. However, the problem in this lies, as Botstein correctly argues, in that while we are so busy looking back at 'the good old days,' we tend to neglect all of the good things that go on now.
This is true. Yesterday I spent a few blog entries complaining about the wretchedness of the lives of my students. But since I spent so much time focusing on that, I didn't focus enough on all that they accomplish IN SPITE of all the crap they face and have gone through. Just a few minutes ago I had a great talk with the student who I had to banish to the office yesterday. He was a completely different person today. Why? Maybe he took his med. Maybe he got some sleep. Maybe his home life wasn't shit. Maybe he got the message yesterday. Or maybe it was my attitude toward him. This time I paid genuine attention to him and listened to him. Yes, we got off the topic, but it was quality time. Now in the second class, he is working hard instead of pouting.
In terms of education, Botstein points out that while drop out rates today are worrisome, they are, though, a fraction of what they were in the 1940s (the key time for when many Americans look back as "the good old days") when before 1945 half of all students dropped out. Despite all of the problems our schools do face today, they are doing wonderful things. More language are taught than ever before. Technology is far more available. A variety of classes and skills are taught more than ever. I tend to forget about these good things while I'm busy complaining about the negatives.
Often I tend to forget all of the good things that happen in my classes. Instead I focus on the negatives and that is wearing me out.
But it's true. So I've made a pledge to lighten things up and be more positive. I'm sure that will be good news to a few readers out there.
One thing that has changed my perspective is the book "Jefferson's Children" by Leon Botstein. That book is dedicated to dispelling several myths around our culture and education system (in addition to calling for the disbanding high school completely). Botstein makes an interesting point that, I think, is part of the reason I've become so negative recently. He believes that most Americans have fallen victim to looking back at an idealized past that never really existed. He argues that as we get older, we tend to become more dissatisfied with our present. That causes us, naturally, to reflect on our past. And the worse we perceive ourselves to be, the better we tend to view our past, even if it wasn't really that much better.
I can clearly see how I have fallen victim to this. Often I find myself thinking or telling a colleague, "What happened to the way things used to be?" And the time I am referring to is from an idealized past. It's not like when I was in high school or college things were perfect. Maybe I just lacked the perspective I now have, so I never noticed some of the problems around me. Or maybe now I am looking back at my former years with rose colored glasses.
I suppose this isn't always bad. It has helped my writing quite a bit since I've spent a lot of time - especially since my parents died - mining the past for topics and material. However, the problem in this lies, as Botstein correctly argues, in that while we are so busy looking back at 'the good old days,' we tend to neglect all of the good things that go on now.
This is true. Yesterday I spent a few blog entries complaining about the wretchedness of the lives of my students. But since I spent so much time focusing on that, I didn't focus enough on all that they accomplish IN SPITE of all the crap they face and have gone through. Just a few minutes ago I had a great talk with the student who I had to banish to the office yesterday. He was a completely different person today. Why? Maybe he took his med. Maybe he got some sleep. Maybe his home life wasn't shit. Maybe he got the message yesterday. Or maybe it was my attitude toward him. This time I paid genuine attention to him and listened to him. Yes, we got off the topic, but it was quality time. Now in the second class, he is working hard instead of pouting.
In terms of education, Botstein points out that while drop out rates today are worrisome, they are, though, a fraction of what they were in the 1940s (the key time for when many Americans look back as "the good old days") when before 1945 half of all students dropped out. Despite all of the problems our schools do face today, they are doing wonderful things. More language are taught than ever before. Technology is far more available. A variety of classes and skills are taught more than ever. I tend to forget about these good things while I'm busy complaining about the negatives.
Often I tend to forget all of the good things that happen in my classes. Instead I focus on the negatives and that is wearing me out.
The Most Influential Work of Art in the last 100 Years
According to the newest Newsweek, this Picasso piece is the most influential work of art in the past century. You be the judge. I would have never guessed it. I'm no art afficiando. The Newsweek article convinced me that it's a great work of art - a blending of cubism and surrealism and a few other art movements. But I don't know if it's the most influential. At least they didn't select Warhol's "Campbell's Soup" can.
Morning Madness
Joker and I didn't go for our morning job today. Nor did we yesterday. But we at least got up yesterday. Today I slept in until the very last possible moment. This wouldn't have been so bad, but KoKo also has a softball game. Despite out best intentions - and her best efforts - KoKo is never able to organize herself enough the night before to keep her from running around like mad in the morning.
As soon as I stepped out of the shower, KoKo was calling down to see if her cooler was down there. Eventually she was able to locate it. By this time I was dressed and getting ready for school. I stopped and made her a good old peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I carved some watermelon for her. But she needed some money for the concession stand at her tournament. Unfortunately, neither Kristie nor I had any cash. This meant a quick trip up to a local gas station for some cash and the all important sunflower seeds.
We made it back with about ten minutes to spare before her bus took off and only a few minutes before I had to hit the road for school.
As soon as I stepped out of the shower, KoKo was calling down to see if her cooler was down there. Eventually she was able to locate it. By this time I was dressed and getting ready for school. I stopped and made her a good old peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I carved some watermelon for her. But she needed some money for the concession stand at her tournament. Unfortunately, neither Kristie nor I had any cash. This meant a quick trip up to a local gas station for some cash and the all important sunflower seeds.
We made it back with about ten minutes to spare before her bus took off and only a few minutes before I had to hit the road for school.
Casey's summer job
Kristie got Casey a job working for one of her former customers, a middle aged farmer near Grand Forks. Casey originally planned to work for the summer rec program during the week and then at the tubing place on the weekends. However, he figured he would get more hours and better pay (nearly $8 an hour) working for a farmer. Plus he would have weekends free for paint balling (his one true love).
But that all ended yesterday. For a week or so now, Casey has been grumbling about wanting to quit. I attributed it to a couple factors. One, as a city kid, he has zero experience on a farm, so he was frustrated that he didn't feel like he ever really knew what he was doing. This is totally understandable. Kristie and I both told him to hang on until his first paycheck at the end of the month. We figured once he saw his paycheck, that would change his mind. Second, his summer paint balling plans have - for the most part - fallen apart. Originally he planned to be in tournaments (along with some of his friends) nearly every weekend from late May through September, but so far those plans have not come to fruition. Third, the farmer is a bit of a grump - often yelling at him and making him feel lousy.
But yesterday was the last straw. Casey came home in the early afternoon with a look of woe on his face that no 16 year old should experience. He said that today was the last straw. First, he was helping the farmer spread manure in a field. But he got the tractor stuck. He panicked and only got the tractor mired deeper. So the farmer had to stop and come over. But they couldn't pull both the tractor and the manure spreader out. So they had to unhook the tractor. Casey was then able to get the tractor out on his own. But they had to hook the manure spreader back up. They were trying to get a pin out of the hitch. Casey's boss was holding the pin and he had Casey pounding the bolt with a crow bar. Keep in mind, Casey has handled a crow bar maybe once in his life. And this was it!
Well, Casey missed and hit the bolt which then hit the farmer's hand. He stopped and had Casey hold the bolt. Then he promptly struck it - intentionally - with the crow bar to sting Casey's hand. "How does that feel?" he asked.
And this is from a grown man who has several foster kids! What cruelty! So now we fully endorse Casey's quitting.
The poor kid's other thumb was smashed earlier (or so Casey claims) when he was holding a PTO shaft and it slipped down onto his thumb. He is most certainly going to lose the nail. And he spent the rest of the afternoon cradling his thumb in a dishtowel wrapped around an ice cube. Then he went promptly to bed and stayed there. He was still there when I left this morning.
The really sad part was he was doing his best not to cry as he told us about his day.
But that all ended yesterday. For a week or so now, Casey has been grumbling about wanting to quit. I attributed it to a couple factors. One, as a city kid, he has zero experience on a farm, so he was frustrated that he didn't feel like he ever really knew what he was doing. This is totally understandable. Kristie and I both told him to hang on until his first paycheck at the end of the month. We figured once he saw his paycheck, that would change his mind. Second, his summer paint balling plans have - for the most part - fallen apart. Originally he planned to be in tournaments (along with some of his friends) nearly every weekend from late May through September, but so far those plans have not come to fruition. Third, the farmer is a bit of a grump - often yelling at him and making him feel lousy.
But yesterday was the last straw. Casey came home in the early afternoon with a look of woe on his face that no 16 year old should experience. He said that today was the last straw. First, he was helping the farmer spread manure in a field. But he got the tractor stuck. He panicked and only got the tractor mired deeper. So the farmer had to stop and come over. But they couldn't pull both the tractor and the manure spreader out. So they had to unhook the tractor. Casey was then able to get the tractor out on his own. But they had to hook the manure spreader back up. They were trying to get a pin out of the hitch. Casey's boss was holding the pin and he had Casey pounding the bolt with a crow bar. Keep in mind, Casey has handled a crow bar maybe once in his life. And this was it!
Well, Casey missed and hit the bolt which then hit the farmer's hand. He stopped and had Casey hold the bolt. Then he promptly struck it - intentionally - with the crow bar to sting Casey's hand. "How does that feel?" he asked.
And this is from a grown man who has several foster kids! What cruelty! So now we fully endorse Casey's quitting.
The poor kid's other thumb was smashed earlier (or so Casey claims) when he was holding a PTO shaft and it slipped down onto his thumb. He is most certainly going to lose the nail. And he spent the rest of the afternoon cradling his thumb in a dishtowel wrapped around an ice cube. Then he went promptly to bed and stayed there. He was still there when I left this morning.
The really sad part was he was doing his best not to cry as he told us about his day.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Four Days Left
I would be lying if I said I wasn't counting down the days here at the good old ALC. Every summer I say I'm never going to do this again. And every summer I do at least one summer session (or at least a part of a summer session). The money is just too damn good. I don't really have any reason to complain with this first session's kids though. Compared to groups in the past, they are a delight. But there are just several things that wear on me - it's not my room nor my classes, so I kind of feel like a stranger; it's summer and no matter how hard I try, I can't devote the effort I would during the school year; the drama and baggage most of the kid bring in (and relish in); the few bad seeds who make life miserable.
Out of my first class here, Multi cultural lit, I would say I have about two kids who would do just fine in a normal school setting. For example, yesterday I told the class we would be having a test. I put up the stories on the board so they would know what to review or read if they missed some time. No one wrote anything down. Okay. So I made the test a whopper. Just to be mean. Then to be worse, I made two versions of the test.
When I arrived this morning, I found one student - ONE - who had arrived early and had a book out and was reviewing. The rest came in - didn't bother to look at the board, which reminded them that today we were having a test - and just started going over their drama and angst. One girl was talking about the fight she had with her parents about her boyfriend (a little shit who is also in the class. I make this judgment on the fact I've seen him in school and can testify to his dirt-bagness. I saw him put his fist through a window over a fight they had last year). She told her father, "Dad, I'm not giving up on him." I'm serious! Who says crap like that? Characters on "Days of our Lives" maybe. Or maybe characters in a Danielle Steele novel, but real people? And a teenager at that! Then she bragged how she was willing to play her divorced parents off of each other in order to remain her with him. And all for a kid who likely cheats on her and will likely abuse her in a few years. What a life she is about to lead. Then she talked about how her mother lives out of state so she doesn't have to pay child support. Apparently, her mother doesn't have custody of her. Given how our courts side with the mother, one has to wonder how much of an utter shit she must be not to have custody.
Then another student, said he had to make an urgent call - which I refused to let him - apparently his girlfriend's mother got her fourth - yes, fourth - DUI last night and is headed to jail. What can you say to that? Another student is in a half-way house. I had her in class last year, but she averaged attending two days a week. This summer, when I was showing "American History X," she was angry that she couldn't watch it (apparently the lady in charge of the house doesn't let them view anything over PG, and of course, "American History X" is R - just try finding a good movie that isn't). She was not happy when I notified her. I think her words were, "That is stupid." I believe my response - after about the 50th "That is stupid" comment was, "No. Stupid is skipping so often you have to be put in a half way home instead of your own home." That got my point across. Finally, she talked to the lady in charge and had her call the powers that be here and finally got permission to watch the film.
Yesterday I had a mini-incident with yet another student. He has missed twice (the limit) and is behind. He is lazy. He was grumbling about his make up work. I told him - in polite, honest terms - to just drop and work or tube instead of show up every day if he isn't going to pass. Okay. My real words were, "You gotta be nuts to attend every day at 8:30 in the morning - Monday through Friday - when you could be working or having fun - and not pass!" This motivated him some. However, he finished his work in about ten minutes. I asked him if he really read the story assigned. He confessed that he had 'skimmed' it. I told him that was not good enough. He pouted and whined. I handed him a box of Kleenex. This got the laughs going from others and more pouts from him. "I suck at reading," he whined. "Hey, me too. But then again I don't try to read a story in ten minutes." "I hate this," he said. "And I can't imagine why you're here at the ALC at 9 am on a Tuesday," I replied. He complained some more, so I took him to the office to work. I told him to either get serious or drop because he's wasting my time and his. He didn't like that, but he got his work done.
Out of my first class here, Multi cultural lit, I would say I have about two kids who would do just fine in a normal school setting. For example, yesterday I told the class we would be having a test. I put up the stories on the board so they would know what to review or read if they missed some time. No one wrote anything down. Okay. So I made the test a whopper. Just to be mean. Then to be worse, I made two versions of the test.
When I arrived this morning, I found one student - ONE - who had arrived early and had a book out and was reviewing. The rest came in - didn't bother to look at the board, which reminded them that today we were having a test - and just started going over their drama and angst. One girl was talking about the fight she had with her parents about her boyfriend (a little shit who is also in the class. I make this judgment on the fact I've seen him in school and can testify to his dirt-bagness. I saw him put his fist through a window over a fight they had last year). She told her father, "Dad, I'm not giving up on him." I'm serious! Who says crap like that? Characters on "Days of our Lives" maybe. Or maybe characters in a Danielle Steele novel, but real people? And a teenager at that! Then she bragged how she was willing to play her divorced parents off of each other in order to remain her with him. And all for a kid who likely cheats on her and will likely abuse her in a few years. What a life she is about to lead. Then she talked about how her mother lives out of state so she doesn't have to pay child support. Apparently, her mother doesn't have custody of her. Given how our courts side with the mother, one has to wonder how much of an utter shit she must be not to have custody.
Then another student, said he had to make an urgent call - which I refused to let him - apparently his girlfriend's mother got her fourth - yes, fourth - DUI last night and is headed to jail. What can you say to that? Another student is in a half-way house. I had her in class last year, but she averaged attending two days a week. This summer, when I was showing "American History X," she was angry that she couldn't watch it (apparently the lady in charge of the house doesn't let them view anything over PG, and of course, "American History X" is R - just try finding a good movie that isn't). She was not happy when I notified her. I think her words were, "That is stupid." I believe my response - after about the 50th "That is stupid" comment was, "No. Stupid is skipping so often you have to be put in a half way home instead of your own home." That got my point across. Finally, she talked to the lady in charge and had her call the powers that be here and finally got permission to watch the film.
Yesterday I had a mini-incident with yet another student. He has missed twice (the limit) and is behind. He is lazy. He was grumbling about his make up work. I told him - in polite, honest terms - to just drop and work or tube instead of show up every day if he isn't going to pass. Okay. My real words were, "You gotta be nuts to attend every day at 8:30 in the morning - Monday through Friday - when you could be working or having fun - and not pass!" This motivated him some. However, he finished his work in about ten minutes. I asked him if he really read the story assigned. He confessed that he had 'skimmed' it. I told him that was not good enough. He pouted and whined. I handed him a box of Kleenex. This got the laughs going from others and more pouts from him. "I suck at reading," he whined. "Hey, me too. But then again I don't try to read a story in ten minutes." "I hate this," he said. "And I can't imagine why you're here at the ALC at 9 am on a Tuesday," I replied. He complained some more, so I took him to the office to work. I told him to either get serious or drop because he's wasting my time and his. He didn't like that, but he got his work done.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Tuesday
Last night was KoKo's first boy/girl party. Five boys and, counting KoKo, five girls. To say she was excited would have been an understatement of epic proportions. By the time I got home from some curriculum work, the house was empty, except for the armada of bikes out front. My instincts told me they would be at the pool (the 90 degree heat also was a good indicator). Sure enough Kristie was visiting with the life guards - her former basketball players and baby-sitters - telling them all about the wedding. Prior to that she was leading the kids in a game of keep away.
I headed home for the central air.
Soon though the party arrived. Kristie and I headed out for a bike ride. When we returned Koko was fired up to play bingo. Initially she wanted me to create a trivia game (I had done this for one party a few years ago) and give away prizes. But she thought bingo would be more fun. However, many of the boys were more interested in Casey and his video games and paint ball gun. However, one boy, Ethan, and I participated in bingo.
At 7 I had to leave for volleyball. When I got back I found Kristie had organized the party into teams for a round robin tournament of "Spot Toss." I couldn't believe how seriously the kids were taking it. For prizes I found some old basketball trophies that Kristie's former boss had given me when they were renovating the farm supply office. So I offered them up and the kids went nuts for it.
The night ended for us around 11. We were tired and the kids were settling down to watch a couple movies. Some of the boys had to go home early and they all had to go home when the movies were done.
I think it's safe to say KoKo (and the rest of us) had quite the time. I was just telling Kristie that I liked the elementary school KoKo - the one who wore T-shirts and jeans every day and whose biggest worries were what friends liked her this week and getting her homework done - more than the to-be high school KoKo - the one who is aware of her beauty and dresses more like a young little lady and whose biggest worries were what boys think and what her friends say about her. Oh well. All I can do is enjoy her while I have her. She does, though, still maintain her childlike qualities. Yesterday Joker and I were about to leave for our morning run when she opened the front door - herself about to go to sports excel at the high school - and said, "I love you Kurtie." Gotta love that.
I headed home for the central air.
Soon though the party arrived. Kristie and I headed out for a bike ride. When we returned Koko was fired up to play bingo. Initially she wanted me to create a trivia game (I had done this for one party a few years ago) and give away prizes. But she thought bingo would be more fun. However, many of the boys were more interested in Casey and his video games and paint ball gun. However, one boy, Ethan, and I participated in bingo.
At 7 I had to leave for volleyball. When I got back I found Kristie had organized the party into teams for a round robin tournament of "Spot Toss." I couldn't believe how seriously the kids were taking it. For prizes I found some old basketball trophies that Kristie's former boss had given me when they were renovating the farm supply office. So I offered them up and the kids went nuts for it.
The night ended for us around 11. We were tired and the kids were settling down to watch a couple movies. Some of the boys had to go home early and they all had to go home when the movies were done.
I think it's safe to say KoKo (and the rest of us) had quite the time. I was just telling Kristie that I liked the elementary school KoKo - the one who wore T-shirts and jeans every day and whose biggest worries were what friends liked her this week and getting her homework done - more than the to-be high school KoKo - the one who is aware of her beauty and dresses more like a young little lady and whose biggest worries were what boys think and what her friends say about her. Oh well. All I can do is enjoy her while I have her. She does, though, still maintain her childlike qualities. Yesterday Joker and I were about to leave for our morning run when she opened the front door - herself about to go to sports excel at the high school - and said, "I love you Kurtie." Gotta love that.
Monday, June 25, 2007
One Month Down
When I stop and think about how quickly this summer has gone by, it is frightening. Time has an odd fludity to it (Is that even a word? If not, it should be). When we were in South Dakota for the wedding, the week seemed like two. And that was great. Of course, the day we drove home, it felt like a week too. But that's how it goes.
So far the rest June has seemed like just a few days. Soon my ALC gig will be over and I'll be at the RRVWP.
So far the rest June has seemed like just a few days. Soon my ALC gig will be over and I'll be at the RRVWP.
Sunday night
This weekend brought the first tube run of the summer. Kristie, KoKo, Rachel (KoKo’s on again off again best friend), and I went both Friday and Saturday. With all the rainfall the river went from being ankle deep to well over our heads. We were able to avoid the crowds that flock to the local tubing place, so we spared the kids all the drunkenness that tends to take place on the river during the weekends. It was nice to get some sun. Thanks to some good old SPF 45, I only reddened a bit.
On Sunday evening Kristie and I played “Spot Toss” a bean bag toss game we purchased the previous evening. As usual, I lost four consecutive games to Kristie. I argue that she is a competitive freak. She jokes, “I’m not a competitive freak; I’m just good at everything.”
And she is.
And don’t think it doesn’t drive me nuts.
She dominates in trivia and word games. I don’t even want to discuss our Scrabble games. One of the first times we ever played, she ended up using all of her tiles (which I believe is an extra 75 points. Like she needed an extra 75 points!). I tihnk I can count the number of times we’ve played Scrabble since on one hand. Then we moved on to Boggle. Same result. Even at parties and holidays, team games like Cranium, Phase 10, Catch Phrase, Taboo, and Pictionairy . . . her team always comes out victorious. Part of it is talent. She knows so much about so many different things. A larger part of it is luck. One time stands out - we were playing Cranium. Of course, to be cruel, the gaming gods pitted Kristie and I against each other in the sherades portion of that game. The topic was “Taming of the Shrew.” The guys on my team not only had never read any Shakespeare but likely had no idea what the hell a shrew even was. So we began acting it out. Within the first few seconds of watching Kristie’s antics, her teammate shouted, “The Taming of the Shrew!” Luck! All this time later I could still be trying to act that title our and my teammates would never have come up with that.
I used to pride myself on being a master of the word jumble in the Grand Forks Herald. I used to drive Mom mad with how easily the words unscrambled for me. She even went so far as to by a small hand held dictionairy and thesarus to help her. It was no surprise when Kristie and I began dating that she too enjoyed the word jumble. However, it took me a few times to realize that Kristie is herself a walking, talking dictionariy and thesarus. At my best, I can get three words unscrambled by the time she has not only finished the fourth word but solved the word puzzle too.
If I could just find an NFL trivia game or a music trivia game, maybe I could level the playing field. But I’m not holidng my breathe.
****
Monday marks my second week at the ALC. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t counting down the days left. For the most part it has been fine. Most of the kids are willing to work. A few even want to. But several of the students need so much attention. Several come from hellish homes, so they just want to be heard. Others have no direction in their lives, so they need to be harped on constantly. This wears me out. Having students simply read a story and take a quiz is nearly impossible. But at least this experience makes me appreciate my regular classes.
On Sunday evening Kristie and I played “Spot Toss” a bean bag toss game we purchased the previous evening. As usual, I lost four consecutive games to Kristie. I argue that she is a competitive freak. She jokes, “I’m not a competitive freak; I’m just good at everything.”
And she is.
And don’t think it doesn’t drive me nuts.
She dominates in trivia and word games. I don’t even want to discuss our Scrabble games. One of the first times we ever played, she ended up using all of her tiles (which I believe is an extra 75 points. Like she needed an extra 75 points!). I tihnk I can count the number of times we’ve played Scrabble since on one hand. Then we moved on to Boggle. Same result. Even at parties and holidays, team games like Cranium, Phase 10, Catch Phrase, Taboo, and Pictionairy . . . her team always comes out victorious. Part of it is talent. She knows so much about so many different things. A larger part of it is luck. One time stands out - we were playing Cranium. Of course, to be cruel, the gaming gods pitted Kristie and I against each other in the sherades portion of that game. The topic was “Taming of the Shrew.” The guys on my team not only had never read any Shakespeare but likely had no idea what the hell a shrew even was. So we began acting it out. Within the first few seconds of watching Kristie’s antics, her teammate shouted, “The Taming of the Shrew!” Luck! All this time later I could still be trying to act that title our and my teammates would never have come up with that.
I used to pride myself on being a master of the word jumble in the Grand Forks Herald. I used to drive Mom mad with how easily the words unscrambled for me. She even went so far as to by a small hand held dictionairy and thesarus to help her. It was no surprise when Kristie and I began dating that she too enjoyed the word jumble. However, it took me a few times to realize that Kristie is herself a walking, talking dictionariy and thesarus. At my best, I can get three words unscrambled by the time she has not only finished the fourth word but solved the word puzzle too.
If I could just find an NFL trivia game or a music trivia game, maybe I could level the playing field. But I’m not holidng my breathe.
****
Monday marks my second week at the ALC. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t counting down the days left. For the most part it has been fine. Most of the kids are willing to work. A few even want to. But several of the students need so much attention. Several come from hellish homes, so they just want to be heard. Others have no direction in their lives, so they need to be harped on constantly. This wears me out. Having students simply read a story and take a quiz is nearly impossible. But at least this experience makes me appreciate my regular classes.
Identity Theft
A few weeks ago I discovered that my credit card bill had been buried beneath a mountain of other bills and letters. Thus it was due the day I found it! I called the company to pay via phone. Of course, the company outsource their help lines, so the worker on the other line and I had some language issues. I could hardly understand her English under her thick accent and she was thoroughly confused by my Minnesota accent. Finally, I was sent to an account specialist.
This specialist immediately asked me - in clearer English - about some mysterious charges on my credit card. Sure enough, I had never bought anything from "Yahoo Voice" and "Net Zero." I was so shocked - after all, this was not what I was calling about - I simply wanted to pay my bill. But this took precedence. There were about $100 worth of charges. After taking care of this, the specialist sent me back to the account director. Unfortunately, it was the initial lady.
We stumbled our way through the process. Somehow she thought I lost my card rather than having my identity stolen somehow (I do a ton of shopping on line - amazon, ebay, espn, nfl shop, art.com . . . so it's no real surprise that my credit card number was hacked. In fact, it's the second time it's happened. So I'm used to this). Rather than try to explain that my identity was stolen, I just let her go on believing that my card had been lost in South Dakota.
A week later an affidavit arrived in the mail, calling for me to complete it and mark any further fraudulent charges. When the bill arrived, there were another $100 in charges. So I started feeling guilty that I had 'lied' about it being lost. I thought I'd come clean and call the credit card company again.
This time the man - in India or some other far off place - on the other line garbled his way through the mandatory greeting. Before he even finished, I hung up. I wasn't going to go through that again. So I just filled out the affidavit, got it notarized and sent it in.
I think big corporations not only outsource because it's cheaper, but also must do it to get fewer complaints. I mean who is going to sit through all of that? It's just not worth it.
This specialist immediately asked me - in clearer English - about some mysterious charges on my credit card. Sure enough, I had never bought anything from "Yahoo Voice" and "Net Zero." I was so shocked - after all, this was not what I was calling about - I simply wanted to pay my bill. But this took precedence. There were about $100 worth of charges. After taking care of this, the specialist sent me back to the account director. Unfortunately, it was the initial lady.
We stumbled our way through the process. Somehow she thought I lost my card rather than having my identity stolen somehow (I do a ton of shopping on line - amazon, ebay, espn, nfl shop, art.com . . . so it's no real surprise that my credit card number was hacked. In fact, it's the second time it's happened. So I'm used to this). Rather than try to explain that my identity was stolen, I just let her go on believing that my card had been lost in South Dakota.
A week later an affidavit arrived in the mail, calling for me to complete it and mark any further fraudulent charges. When the bill arrived, there were another $100 in charges. So I started feeling guilty that I had 'lied' about it being lost. I thought I'd come clean and call the credit card company again.
This time the man - in India or some other far off place - on the other line garbled his way through the mandatory greeting. Before he even finished, I hung up. I wasn't going to go through that again. So I just filled out the affidavit, got it notarized and sent it in.
I think big corporations not only outsource because it's cheaper, but also must do it to get fewer complaints. I mean who is going to sit through all of that? It's just not worth it.
Typical Morning at the ALC
Well it certainly is a typical morning at the good old ALC. One student is all black and blue and scarred. He obviously got his ass kicked over the weekend. Another is on crutches with a broken foot. He apparently was run over. Any questions why they're here?
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Another hole
I knew it. As soon as I blogged about Kozy's digging tendencies, she ripped apart the same section next to the sidewalk again. And this is after I had re-seeded it for the sixth time. She must have conveniently hidden or buried the stick I used to spank her with, so I had to use a small branch - it was actually pretty measly. Kozy knew what was coming and cowered down so pitifully that it broke my heart. She knows what she is doing is wrong, but she can't resist. I give up. Maybe I'll let her have the damn hole and see how far she can dig?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Right On
Still awaiting word on my proposal. I don't know if that's good or bad. I'm prepared for rejection, so I'm ready. But last night I came across something quite interesting while Kristie and I were reading out on the porch. Sometime ago I bought "Teaching Powerful Personal Narratives: Strategies for College Applications and High School Classrooms" by Mary Jane Reed. I'm only getting around now to reading it. I was well into chapter two when I came across that paragraph that got me all fired up - and made me thing that maybe some of my ideas in my proposal were not completely off the charts -- ". . . In fact, assure your students that the five-paragraph approach should not eve be a consideration. It is too binding, too restrictive. I don't know if I should chuckle or cringe [I always cringe] when I hear teachers at conferences confess to each other that they swear by the five-paragraph format for every essay. I declared it dead years ago, and thankfully my department agreed. Where is it written that a personal experience occurs within five paragraphs? Students need the freedom to unleash the angle that allows the paper to develop with continuity and culminate appropriately regardless of the number of paragraphs." Amen.
Amazing
Kristie just phoned on her way back from the bone expert. NOTHING IS BROKEN. Apparently the doctor in our home town saw a vein that looked like a crack. Furthermore, the emergency room doctor was unsure and also misread the X-ray, which was of poor quality (I guess our small town clinic's X-ray machine is a relic). So it took a third doctor to get it right. Nice health care system. I'm just glad she won't have to spend the next month in an uncomfortable cast.
Rolling right along
Summer is just cruising along. There have been some bumps in the road - Kristie's fractured arm (for which she is seeing a bone specialist for a cast as I type) and all of the water saturating our basement - but so far so good. My classes at the ALC continue to surprise me. A majority of the kids are willing to work. A minority are not. But how is that different from any other class?
*****
Yesterday afternoon - with the kids at their father's - Kristie and I attempted to take the dogs for a brief walk. Now there are several difficult things about this. First, Kristie's definition of a 'walk' differs wildly from mine. Hers: arms pumping, eyes focused, and everything about her says 'work, hurry, work, get that heart rate up, focus, hurry, work . . ." across town. Mine: meandering and daydreaming for a few blocks. However, she promised we would walk "at your (meaning my) pace." The second problem is in the form of Kozy. Unlike Joker, who is a model walker (after only one run with me, he already knows the route and what side to stay on), Kozy, though, is an absolute terror. She constantly pulls on the leash, as if she can't get anywhere quite fast enough. Of course, this makes the walker (me, of course) have to lean back to keep her from pulling me down the damn street. The last time we went for a 'walk,' my forearm was quite sore from having to restrain her. Of course, all of her pulling results in her choking. You'd think she'd get the hint and just trot along with slack in the rope. NOOOOO. She constantly keeps it taught - to the point of passing out. After a few blocks she is foaming at the mouth and hoarse from gasping so much.
We had only taken a few steps when Kozy fell into her normal routine while Kristie and Joker just cruised along. Not wanting to fight with her the entire walk, I turned around to leave her back at home. Suddenly, walking in the opposite direction, she stopped pulling and just trotted along. I was astounded. So I turned back around to try it again. But as soon as I headed in our original direction - east toward main street, she became psycho mutt again.
Kristie thought maybe she was competing with Joker, so I turned her around again. We walked west. Sure enough, she was a model walker. She was great all the way to our house. So I figured maybe she could just walk west. I mean, who knows with this dog? But as soon as we passed our house, she began straining at the leash and lathering at the mouth. She must only be able to walk over an area that she is familiar with or something. For the sake of my sanity, I ended up stashing her in the house while Joker, Kristie, and I went for our walk.
Any suggestions? Oh yeah, if anyone out there in blogger knows how to stop a dog from digging holes, PLEASE advise me! She has turned our back yard into a replica of the Gaza strip. This summer she has focused on one part of the back yard right next to our sidewalk. She dug down about two feet. I beat her with a belt and filled it in. She was fine for a few days. Then I returned home to find dirt strewn across the sidewalk and the crater next to the sidewalk. Again the belt. Again she was fine, but she dug again. I tried a stick this time instead of the belt. She actually yipped a few times at the stick. She just cowered and took the belt. I filled in the hole again (by now the lawn in front of our propane tank looks like the moon with all of the divots I've left there while trying to keep Kozy from digging up the same hole. And what the hell happens to all of the dirt? I can never fill the hole back in with the dirt she digs out. Does she eat it? I just have to remember to fill in the divots by fall or our poor propane delivery man will break an ankle.) So far she has been okay. But that is just because I switched her to the other side of the yard - the side where I know the electrical lines are, so maybe she'll cut through one and my problem will be solved. Just kidding.
But violence was the last option.
Here is a list of things I've tried.
1. Pepper. This was Dad's brilliant idea. That worked about as well as the Maginot Line. All it really did was season the dirt for her.
2. Tabasco sauce. This was my take on Dad's brilliant idea. I poured it into the dirt when I filled the holes back in. But that didn't' stop her. So then I poured it into her nose as I stuck her head in the hole. I could only imagine how horrible this must have felt. I have never snorted tabasco sauce -and hopefully never will - unless there is some form of pet revenge in the afterlife where Kozy will be waiting for revenge - but I know it smells bad enough and my sense of scent is nothing compared to a dog's. But I felt too bad and stopped.
3. Moth balls. Someone at a birthday party suggested this. I thought this one would work too - considering how horrible the moth balls smelled when I opened the box. And I guess they worked better than anything else up to this point. But this spring I was out in the yard raking and I caught the unmistakable odor of moth balls. Sure enough. There were several dug up around the propane tank. So much for that.
4. The belt. Mentioned above.
5. The stick. Now broke in two. Still in use.
Other suggestions?
*****
Yesterday afternoon - with the kids at their father's - Kristie and I attempted to take the dogs for a brief walk. Now there are several difficult things about this. First, Kristie's definition of a 'walk' differs wildly from mine. Hers: arms pumping, eyes focused, and everything about her says 'work, hurry, work, get that heart rate up, focus, hurry, work . . ." across town. Mine: meandering and daydreaming for a few blocks. However, she promised we would walk "at your (meaning my) pace." The second problem is in the form of Kozy. Unlike Joker, who is a model walker (after only one run with me, he already knows the route and what side to stay on), Kozy, though, is an absolute terror. She constantly pulls on the leash, as if she can't get anywhere quite fast enough. Of course, this makes the walker (me, of course) have to lean back to keep her from pulling me down the damn street. The last time we went for a 'walk,' my forearm was quite sore from having to restrain her. Of course, all of her pulling results in her choking. You'd think she'd get the hint and just trot along with slack in the rope. NOOOOO. She constantly keeps it taught - to the point of passing out. After a few blocks she is foaming at the mouth and hoarse from gasping so much.
We had only taken a few steps when Kozy fell into her normal routine while Kristie and Joker just cruised along. Not wanting to fight with her the entire walk, I turned around to leave her back at home. Suddenly, walking in the opposite direction, she stopped pulling and just trotted along. I was astounded. So I turned back around to try it again. But as soon as I headed in our original direction - east toward main street, she became psycho mutt again.
Kristie thought maybe she was competing with Joker, so I turned her around again. We walked west. Sure enough, she was a model walker. She was great all the way to our house. So I figured maybe she could just walk west. I mean, who knows with this dog? But as soon as we passed our house, she began straining at the leash and lathering at the mouth. She must only be able to walk over an area that she is familiar with or something. For the sake of my sanity, I ended up stashing her in the house while Joker, Kristie, and I went for our walk.
Any suggestions? Oh yeah, if anyone out there in blogger knows how to stop a dog from digging holes, PLEASE advise me! She has turned our back yard into a replica of the Gaza strip. This summer she has focused on one part of the back yard right next to our sidewalk. She dug down about two feet. I beat her with a belt and filled it in. She was fine for a few days. Then I returned home to find dirt strewn across the sidewalk and the crater next to the sidewalk. Again the belt. Again she was fine, but she dug again. I tried a stick this time instead of the belt. She actually yipped a few times at the stick. She just cowered and took the belt. I filled in the hole again (by now the lawn in front of our propane tank looks like the moon with all of the divots I've left there while trying to keep Kozy from digging up the same hole. And what the hell happens to all of the dirt? I can never fill the hole back in with the dirt she digs out. Does she eat it? I just have to remember to fill in the divots by fall or our poor propane delivery man will break an ankle.) So far she has been okay. But that is just because I switched her to the other side of the yard - the side where I know the electrical lines are, so maybe she'll cut through one and my problem will be solved. Just kidding.
But violence was the last option.
Here is a list of things I've tried.
1. Pepper. This was Dad's brilliant idea. That worked about as well as the Maginot Line. All it really did was season the dirt for her.
2. Tabasco sauce. This was my take on Dad's brilliant idea. I poured it into the dirt when I filled the holes back in. But that didn't' stop her. So then I poured it into her nose as I stuck her head in the hole. I could only imagine how horrible this must have felt. I have never snorted tabasco sauce -and hopefully never will - unless there is some form of pet revenge in the afterlife where Kozy will be waiting for revenge - but I know it smells bad enough and my sense of scent is nothing compared to a dog's. But I felt too bad and stopped.
3. Moth balls. Someone at a birthday party suggested this. I thought this one would work too - considering how horrible the moth balls smelled when I opened the box. And I guess they worked better than anything else up to this point. But this spring I was out in the yard raking and I caught the unmistakable odor of moth balls. Sure enough. There were several dug up around the propane tank. So much for that.
4. The belt. Mentioned above.
5. The stick. Now broke in two. Still in use.
Other suggestions?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Shortest Stories
In my ALC Creative Writing class, I was looking for examples of very, very short stories.
The first one we looked at was by Ernest Hemingway (and one of my favorites) -
"For Sale:
Baby Shoes;
Never Worn."
Then I found the shortest science fiction story ever written. I thought it had been "Time ended yesterday." But I found a one word short story -
The title "The Cosmic Report Card: Earth" and the story itself, "F". What a statement!
The shortest horror story - "The last man on earth stood alone in a room. There was a lock on the door." I suppose it could be turned into a science fiction story by changing lock to knock.
Cool stuff.
I remember one of my high school English teachers telling me during a creative writing class about the shortest poem he had ever read. It is below.
Fleas.
Adam had 'em.
I loved it. Then he started discussing it with me. Who is Adam? Of course, I had no clue but then he led me to see that maybe it was about THE Adam from Genesis. And where did he live? The Garden of Eden. A place of perfection and beauty. Yet, it was still plagued by fleas. To me, this spoke volumes and got me hooked on poetry and the power of words, even just a few words. Of course, my old teacher's interpretation could have been full of shit, but that really doesn't matter. What matters is that he got me hooked on words.
My ALC kids had fun with the stories. I wonder how many of them think my interpretations are full of shit. That would make at least two of us!
The first one we looked at was by Ernest Hemingway (and one of my favorites) -
"For Sale:
Baby Shoes;
Never Worn."
Then I found the shortest science fiction story ever written. I thought it had been "Time ended yesterday." But I found a one word short story -
The title "The Cosmic Report Card: Earth" and the story itself, "F". What a statement!
The shortest horror story - "The last man on earth stood alone in a room. There was a lock on the door." I suppose it could be turned into a science fiction story by changing lock to knock.
Cool stuff.
I remember one of my high school English teachers telling me during a creative writing class about the shortest poem he had ever read. It is below.
Fleas.
Adam had 'em.
I loved it. Then he started discussing it with me. Who is Adam? Of course, I had no clue but then he led me to see that maybe it was about THE Adam from Genesis. And where did he live? The Garden of Eden. A place of perfection and beauty. Yet, it was still plagued by fleas. To me, this spoke volumes and got me hooked on poetry and the power of words, even just a few words. Of course, my old teacher's interpretation could have been full of shit, but that really doesn't matter. What matters is that he got me hooked on words.
My ALC kids had fun with the stories. I wonder how many of them think my interpretations are full of shit. That would make at least two of us!
New developments
After a half day at the ALC, I remembered that I had a curriculum meeting with a colleague. I nearly forgot about the whole meeting, but for some reason my random-abstract brain recalled the information, which is rare. However, when I got home Kristie greeted me . . . with her arm wrapped up in a sling. "I fractured my arm," she said and we were off to the emergency room.
So much for her plans for getting work done around the house and working out this summer. She had been potting plants and cleaning up the yard after Sunday night's hellacious thunder storm. She was in the porch when the phone rang. She ran to get it and slipped on the porch floor, banging her arm on the ledge between the living room and the porch, and fracturing a bone in her arm. She now has a temporary cast which tomorrow at 9:15 will be turned into a permanent cast, at least permanent for the next three or four weeks.
As we were driving home from the emergency room, she said, "I suppose I'll read all about this on your blog tomorrow." Well, dear, you were right. But I gave the abbreviated rendition.
*******
So far classes have gone very well here at the ALC. The trick, I have learned in four years now, is to keep kids busy. Since the time period is so condensed (four weeks for a total of 16 class periods) it is simply impossible to cover what they would cover in a normal 9 week class. Yet, somehow they still get equal credit for it. So I have no grand illusions of accomplishing great things here. First off most of this kids don't have the work ethic. It's amazing how many have so much baggage outside of school. Just wait until the fair hits the town. Then the stories of parties and intoxication and God knows what else will really start rolling in. Thankfully, that falls during the second summer session and I'll be at the RRVWP by then. Secondly, it is summer and kids just don't want to work. You'd be amazed how many kids I've had who have shown up nearly every day but never do the work and end up failing. Now why bother to show up if you're just going to fail, especially when it's early in the morning during the summer? It boggles my mind.
Don't get me wrong. I have a few students who do really take it seriously and work really hard. In fact, over the years I'd say I am getting more of these kids in my classes. I think those who are really troubled are just choosing not to bother with summer school altogether. Fine with me.
So much for her plans for getting work done around the house and working out this summer. She had been potting plants and cleaning up the yard after Sunday night's hellacious thunder storm. She was in the porch when the phone rang. She ran to get it and slipped on the porch floor, banging her arm on the ledge between the living room and the porch, and fracturing a bone in her arm. She now has a temporary cast which tomorrow at 9:15 will be turned into a permanent cast, at least permanent for the next three or four weeks.
As we were driving home from the emergency room, she said, "I suppose I'll read all about this on your blog tomorrow." Well, dear, you were right. But I gave the abbreviated rendition.
*******
So far classes have gone very well here at the ALC. The trick, I have learned in four years now, is to keep kids busy. Since the time period is so condensed (four weeks for a total of 16 class periods) it is simply impossible to cover what they would cover in a normal 9 week class. Yet, somehow they still get equal credit for it. So I have no grand illusions of accomplishing great things here. First off most of this kids don't have the work ethic. It's amazing how many have so much baggage outside of school. Just wait until the fair hits the town. Then the stories of parties and intoxication and God knows what else will really start rolling in. Thankfully, that falls during the second summer session and I'll be at the RRVWP by then. Secondly, it is summer and kids just don't want to work. You'd be amazed how many kids I've had who have shown up nearly every day but never do the work and end up failing. Now why bother to show up if you're just going to fail, especially when it's early in the morning during the summer? It boggles my mind.
Don't get me wrong. I have a few students who do really take it seriously and work really hard. In fact, over the years I'd say I am getting more of these kids in my classes. I think those who are really troubled are just choosing not to bother with summer school altogether. Fine with me.
Monday, June 18, 2007
I wanted routine . . . well, it's back!
Today is day number one at the ALC. So far, so good. But it's just the first day. I teach three 75 minutes classes: Multi-Cultural Lit, Accessing Information, and Creative Writing. I have taught both the mutli-cultural lit and creative writing classes before, so they will be easy. The accessing info class (a research based class) has me a bit worried. But the curriculum is pretty much set. So all I have to do is follow along.
The only problem so far has been the technology side of things. I got up here early and went up to my room to print out some work for today. For some reason I couldn't print from my laptop. Nor could I access the internet. This worried me since the accessing information class basically uses the internet and search engines from our school library to find sources. If we can't get on the internet, what is the point of the class? Furthermore, evidently the cleaners moved the computers and portable lab around on Friday when they cleaned and didn't plug things back in or at least correctly, and now only three (out of about 18) stationairy computers let us log in. Thankfully, the laptops work. I have an internet scavenger hunt planned for them and that should keep them plenty busy tooling around the internet.
That is the key to the ALC classes: keep the kids busy working. This is not always easy.
The only problem so far has been the technology side of things. I got up here early and went up to my room to print out some work for today. For some reason I couldn't print from my laptop. Nor could I access the internet. This worried me since the accessing information class basically uses the internet and search engines from our school library to find sources. If we can't get on the internet, what is the point of the class? Furthermore, evidently the cleaners moved the computers and portable lab around on Friday when they cleaned and didn't plug things back in or at least correctly, and now only three (out of about 18) stationairy computers let us log in. Thankfully, the laptops work. I have an internet scavenger hunt planned for them and that should keep them plenty busy tooling around the internet.
That is the key to the ALC classes: keep the kids busy working. This is not always easy.
Friday, June 15, 2007
No More Routine
With summer comes the end of my routine. No more waking at 5 am to run, heading off to school, coming home, running again, and then spending the evening with Kristie, Casey, and Koko. That's all thrown out of whack now.
Kristie's routine still goes on. Casey has a new one now - he has a summer job working for a farmer, so he is usually out of the house by 8 am. And Koko has maybe the most difficult routine - she is up at 5:30 for sports excel three times a week and then off to summer rec (softball, volleyball, and basketball) programs for most of the week.
But until I start at the ALC, I just kind of float through my day. This is not all bad. But it just seems like without a set routine, I don't get much done.
I could still keep most of my old routine. But when I wake KoKo up for sports excel, the bed is all too tempting. I can't resits so I head back to bed and before I know it, it's 10 and I've lost two or three hours of time. But this is not all bad since I'll be back to getting up early for 12 days of ALC summer school.
I just need to adapt.
But one advantage of having no real routine is that I can enjoy the little things more now. For example, I just sat and enjoyed the rain yesterday. I watched it change from a light, dusting sprinkle to a harsh cascade in about 20 minutes. I also often just sit on the porch and listen to the birds. I even ended up helping a fledgling black bird that hadn't quite mastered flight yet (it could fly for a few feet, but it still resorted to out hopping any threats). This is ironic since Kristie's niece, Chelsey, found a wounded baby chipmunk while down in South Dakota for the wedding and insisted on bringing the thing back to Minnesota. I was adamant about letting it go - even though it tended to run in circles - I figured the eagles or some other predator would make quick work of it. Now I found myself looking out for this damned little black bird. I brought it out some breadcrumbs and some bird seed. It must have worked, for he's gone now (at least that's what I tell myself. I was careful not to let Einstein out. But there are several neighborhood cats that roam free at night). I half thought about bringing him inside for a night, but Kristie would have loved that - just add another animal to the mix. Plus, I figured I'd leave it up to good old Mother Nature to decide things.
I also ended up observing a very interesting battle going on in our garage yesterday afternoon. Since it was pouring, I couldn't take out the recycling as I had planned. Actually, it's Casey's job, but since he has started work, it has been piling up. So when I carried out the newest addition to our recycling pile (which we store in a corner of our garage), I noticed an army of ants swarming around it. I figured this was due to the pop cans in several of the bags. So I lifted up one bag of aluminum cans and was horrified to see several dozen small worms beneath the bag (and there were many, many more squirming inside the bag). I don't know if these were grub worms or maggots (I suspect flies got into the dog and cat food cans - which often have bits of left over food in them). But the ants were very interested in the worms.
As I watched, every single worm - once exposed - immediately began to move - en masse - to the nearest bag for concealment. It was amazing. It was like watching a heard of cattle or sheep heading for a barn. They all just immediately began squirming and wriggling in the same direction. Of course, the ants - just fractions of the size of the worms - set on them at once. Half a dozen ants would attack a single worm. It would writhe and roll around as the ants attacked it. I don't know if they were biting them into tiny chunks to take back to their hives (do ants have hives? Mounds maybe? Nests even?) or if they were just going to sting them and then carry them whole to their mounds. I don't know. After watching it for awhile -and being in the midst of making lunch - I was feeling a bit squeamish myself. So I set the bag that I had lifted out in the rain (to wash all the other worms off) and headed back to the house.
I ended up telling KoKo about it. As a true step-daughter of mine, she was interested immediately and demanded that I show here the battle.
So back outside we went.
But since a few minutes had elapsed, the majority of the worms were gone. The ants could - we reasoned - have worked that fast, so we began lifting up other bags. There were several worms under them, but nothing like the mass I saw earlier. Finally, I had the bags out in the rain. The only next possible place was under a box. So KoKo asked me to lift it as she got into position for the best possible view.
I yanked it up and there were the worms. They were piled together into a wriggle cord. Again, instinctively, they all began to move in one direction - ultimately shaping a grotesque "U" - to find shelter again. Of course, the ants were on them immediately. Of course, KoKo and I brought the camera this time.
Those pictures may or may not be posted.
When Kistie came home for lunch, she didn't want to hear what we saw nor did she wish to see the footage.
We had grilled cheese sandwhiches and tomato soup for lunch. No one was keen on my idea of rice though.
Then, since I didn't have much planned for the rest of the day, I figured I'd write a little (as part of the RRVWP, I received a publication opportunity. Several people affiliated with the NWP are looking for 20 or so essay to put into a collection on teaching writing. And if you know me at all, this is right down my alley), so I thought I'd spend an hour or so typing up an outline of what my essay would cover and then I'd get some long overdue running in. Well, if you know me at all, I can turn an hour of writing into an entire afternoon pretty quickly. And sure enough. One hour passed. Then another. I think I finally got things rolling and had to stop for supper around six. But I was finally able to get a start on something I think I'm happy with. We'll see. I don't know if the professor (at the University of Arkansas) whom I contacted for more clarification on what my outlien/ proposal for the essay should look like will like my style or not. But I had a fun time writing my proposal. That's reward enough.
Again, if you know me at all, the one thing I hate is the formulaic, five paragraph theme approach to writing. So my essay will focus on three key epiphanies I had during my nine years of teaching. The first is titled "There aren't any topic sentences in here." This occured when I had several sections of sophomores reading through several popular magazines (Time, Newsweek, Rolling Stone, Sports Illustrated, Teen) looking for examples of 'good' writing - clear topic sentences, strong supporting sentences, and concise concluding sentences. See, I thought that if I had to teach the thesis support form for a research paper - which they did at the end of the year - I could begin the year by teaching the standard five sentence paragraph. Then I'd move them to the five paragraph essay. After that, they'd know the form well enough to expand it into their thesis-support research paper. Well, thank God one student was reading a Newsweek article on military hazing. His arm shot up in the air and he claimed "There aren't any topic sentence in here." I told him there must be. I took the article and read it. But there were any neat topic sentences. The article was written as a narrative. It caught the readers attention and moved them throug the story quite quickly. While I didn't see a traditional topic sentence, I didn't see a traditional supporting sentence either. Worse yet, most paragraphs were just a few sentences. On a closer look there wasn't a single paragraph that was five sentences. And there were even full paragraphs that were just single sentences - or worse - just single words. And the damned article was interesting and full of life. Unlike the crap I was teaching my kids to write.
So I chucked that idea.
The next epiphany happened a year later. I had stopped - for the most part - teaching the thesis-support form to my sophomores. But while writing personal essays on rites of passage, I found this whopper: "Shooting a cow while on my first deer hunt was a major rite of passage that taught me responsibility, safety, and humility." Now where had this come from? I hadn't taught him this. He must have gotten it in another class or from the middle school (I know I talked with a former writing teacher who used to show a diagram of a hamburger and tell his kids that writing was like that. The topic sentence was the top bun. The meat in the middle was the supporting sentences. And, you guessed it, the concluding sentence was the bottom bun.) So here was a personal essay just bursting with hummor, wit, sarcasm, and real pain and agony. But it had been chopped up and thrust back together into an awkward five paragraph theme that did justice to neither the writer nor the story nor the reader! So we looked at that essay and made it into a killer personal essay - and there wasn't a single topic sentence in the whole thing.
The third epiphany was in grad school. This couldn't be pinned down to just one moment. Rather it focuses on three authors: Willaim Zeiger, Tom Romano, and Paul Heilker. Zeiger argues that in our current writing curriculum we are dominated by the latter of half of the scientific process - proving. By focusing so much on this, we neglect the initial half of the scientific process - testing. And this is true. I used to read college essays and professional essays and be astounding by how these researchers came up with their ideas. I never saw the things they did when they read. I was amazed at how their minds seemed to thing in terms of proofs and solutions. That's a load of crap. They just didn't sit down and write their amazing thesis-solution papers from beginning to end. They did a lot of exploratory writing that led them to the conclusions they had. Then they took that exploratory writing (which Zeiger refers to as the 'testing' half of the scientific process) and re-fromatted it into the thesis-support style.
This gave my thoughts some legitamacy. After all, great, great writers have written personal/testing style essays that could stand alone (Dillard, Montaigne, Orwell, E.B White, and so on). Why do all that work and leave it chopped up and lying on the editing floor?
Next was the work of Tom Romano, who came up with a way to combat the thesis-support form (the multi-genre research paper). In his book, "Crafting Authentic Voice," he outlines a curriculum to teach voice and style rather than form. That book alone added years to my career. And he also raised an excellent point. Why do so many veteran teachers loathe reading those research papers. Don't be shy. How many of us have dreaded reading those suckers. I know I do. Not just because they are a lot of work, but because they are relatively boring, contain little student voice, and don't contain one ounce of personality. As Romano points out, you know who writes predominately in the thesis-support form? College students and those who are stuck writing a traditional thesis. YOu know who reads those works? Almost no one. Great point.
Finally, Heilker's book "The Essay" points out the danger of teaching the five paragraph theme. It's too easy. Once kids latch on to that form (as my poor student who wrote about shooting a cow instead of deer for his rite of passage did) cling to it and use it for ALL of their writing. It's an easy form to teach. I know during the year when I teach it, it's the only time I really feel like I have control over what and how the kids write. But Zeiger would argue that writing, especially personal, exploratory writing, is messy - and it's hard to feel like you're really teaching the kids anything as they write. This book helped me see where to place the thesis-support form in my curriculum (at the end - after plenty of personal writing).
Well, so much for my concise outline for my proposal! Of course, I'm thinking of talking about the exploratory writing and all the testing of ideas that I did and putting that into the essay too - to model how things are actually written - rather than leaving them chopped up and bleeding on the editing floor.
They may say it's a load of crap and reject it. But I'm fine with that. It was a hell of a time just writing it. And that's the real value of writing anyway.
Well, KoKo just informed me that I must drive her to her friend's homes so she can deliver her invitations for her upcoming sleep over. This routine is at an end.
Kristie's routine still goes on. Casey has a new one now - he has a summer job working for a farmer, so he is usually out of the house by 8 am. And Koko has maybe the most difficult routine - she is up at 5:30 for sports excel three times a week and then off to summer rec (softball, volleyball, and basketball) programs for most of the week.
But until I start at the ALC, I just kind of float through my day. This is not all bad. But it just seems like without a set routine, I don't get much done.
I could still keep most of my old routine. But when I wake KoKo up for sports excel, the bed is all too tempting. I can't resits so I head back to bed and before I know it, it's 10 and I've lost two or three hours of time. But this is not all bad since I'll be back to getting up early for 12 days of ALC summer school.
I just need to adapt.
But one advantage of having no real routine is that I can enjoy the little things more now. For example, I just sat and enjoyed the rain yesterday. I watched it change from a light, dusting sprinkle to a harsh cascade in about 20 minutes. I also often just sit on the porch and listen to the birds. I even ended up helping a fledgling black bird that hadn't quite mastered flight yet (it could fly for a few feet, but it still resorted to out hopping any threats). This is ironic since Kristie's niece, Chelsey, found a wounded baby chipmunk while down in South Dakota for the wedding and insisted on bringing the thing back to Minnesota. I was adamant about letting it go - even though it tended to run in circles - I figured the eagles or some other predator would make quick work of it. Now I found myself looking out for this damned little black bird. I brought it out some breadcrumbs and some bird seed. It must have worked, for he's gone now (at least that's what I tell myself. I was careful not to let Einstein out. But there are several neighborhood cats that roam free at night). I half thought about bringing him inside for a night, but Kristie would have loved that - just add another animal to the mix. Plus, I figured I'd leave it up to good old Mother Nature to decide things.
I also ended up observing a very interesting battle going on in our garage yesterday afternoon. Since it was pouring, I couldn't take out the recycling as I had planned. Actually, it's Casey's job, but since he has started work, it has been piling up. So when I carried out the newest addition to our recycling pile (which we store in a corner of our garage), I noticed an army of ants swarming around it. I figured this was due to the pop cans in several of the bags. So I lifted up one bag of aluminum cans and was horrified to see several dozen small worms beneath the bag (and there were many, many more squirming inside the bag). I don't know if these were grub worms or maggots (I suspect flies got into the dog and cat food cans - which often have bits of left over food in them). But the ants were very interested in the worms.
As I watched, every single worm - once exposed - immediately began to move - en masse - to the nearest bag for concealment. It was amazing. It was like watching a heard of cattle or sheep heading for a barn. They all just immediately began squirming and wriggling in the same direction. Of course, the ants - just fractions of the size of the worms - set on them at once. Half a dozen ants would attack a single worm. It would writhe and roll around as the ants attacked it. I don't know if they were biting them into tiny chunks to take back to their hives (do ants have hives? Mounds maybe? Nests even?) or if they were just going to sting them and then carry them whole to their mounds. I don't know. After watching it for awhile -and being in the midst of making lunch - I was feeling a bit squeamish myself. So I set the bag that I had lifted out in the rain (to wash all the other worms off) and headed back to the house.
I ended up telling KoKo about it. As a true step-daughter of mine, she was interested immediately and demanded that I show here the battle.
So back outside we went.
But since a few minutes had elapsed, the majority of the worms were gone. The ants could - we reasoned - have worked that fast, so we began lifting up other bags. There were several worms under them, but nothing like the mass I saw earlier. Finally, I had the bags out in the rain. The only next possible place was under a box. So KoKo asked me to lift it as she got into position for the best possible view.
I yanked it up and there were the worms. They were piled together into a wriggle cord. Again, instinctively, they all began to move in one direction - ultimately shaping a grotesque "U" - to find shelter again. Of course, the ants were on them immediately. Of course, KoKo and I brought the camera this time.
Those pictures may or may not be posted.
When Kistie came home for lunch, she didn't want to hear what we saw nor did she wish to see the footage.
We had grilled cheese sandwhiches and tomato soup for lunch. No one was keen on my idea of rice though.
Then, since I didn't have much planned for the rest of the day, I figured I'd write a little (as part of the RRVWP, I received a publication opportunity. Several people affiliated with the NWP are looking for 20 or so essay to put into a collection on teaching writing. And if you know me at all, this is right down my alley), so I thought I'd spend an hour or so typing up an outline of what my essay would cover and then I'd get some long overdue running in. Well, if you know me at all, I can turn an hour of writing into an entire afternoon pretty quickly. And sure enough. One hour passed. Then another. I think I finally got things rolling and had to stop for supper around six. But I was finally able to get a start on something I think I'm happy with. We'll see. I don't know if the professor (at the University of Arkansas) whom I contacted for more clarification on what my outlien/ proposal for the essay should look like will like my style or not. But I had a fun time writing my proposal. That's reward enough.
Again, if you know me at all, the one thing I hate is the formulaic, five paragraph theme approach to writing. So my essay will focus on three key epiphanies I had during my nine years of teaching. The first is titled "There aren't any topic sentences in here." This occured when I had several sections of sophomores reading through several popular magazines (Time, Newsweek, Rolling Stone, Sports Illustrated, Teen) looking for examples of 'good' writing - clear topic sentences, strong supporting sentences, and concise concluding sentences. See, I thought that if I had to teach the thesis support form for a research paper - which they did at the end of the year - I could begin the year by teaching the standard five sentence paragraph. Then I'd move them to the five paragraph essay. After that, they'd know the form well enough to expand it into their thesis-support research paper. Well, thank God one student was reading a Newsweek article on military hazing. His arm shot up in the air and he claimed "There aren't any topic sentence in here." I told him there must be. I took the article and read it. But there were any neat topic sentences. The article was written as a narrative. It caught the readers attention and moved them throug the story quite quickly. While I didn't see a traditional topic sentence, I didn't see a traditional supporting sentence either. Worse yet, most paragraphs were just a few sentences. On a closer look there wasn't a single paragraph that was five sentences. And there were even full paragraphs that were just single sentences - or worse - just single words. And the damned article was interesting and full of life. Unlike the crap I was teaching my kids to write.
So I chucked that idea.
The next epiphany happened a year later. I had stopped - for the most part - teaching the thesis-support form to my sophomores. But while writing personal essays on rites of passage, I found this whopper: "Shooting a cow while on my first deer hunt was a major rite of passage that taught me responsibility, safety, and humility." Now where had this come from? I hadn't taught him this. He must have gotten it in another class or from the middle school (I know I talked with a former writing teacher who used to show a diagram of a hamburger and tell his kids that writing was like that. The topic sentence was the top bun. The meat in the middle was the supporting sentences. And, you guessed it, the concluding sentence was the bottom bun.) So here was a personal essay just bursting with hummor, wit, sarcasm, and real pain and agony. But it had been chopped up and thrust back together into an awkward five paragraph theme that did justice to neither the writer nor the story nor the reader! So we looked at that essay and made it into a killer personal essay - and there wasn't a single topic sentence in the whole thing.
The third epiphany was in grad school. This couldn't be pinned down to just one moment. Rather it focuses on three authors: Willaim Zeiger, Tom Romano, and Paul Heilker. Zeiger argues that in our current writing curriculum we are dominated by the latter of half of the scientific process - proving. By focusing so much on this, we neglect the initial half of the scientific process - testing. And this is true. I used to read college essays and professional essays and be astounding by how these researchers came up with their ideas. I never saw the things they did when they read. I was amazed at how their minds seemed to thing in terms of proofs and solutions. That's a load of crap. They just didn't sit down and write their amazing thesis-solution papers from beginning to end. They did a lot of exploratory writing that led them to the conclusions they had. Then they took that exploratory writing (which Zeiger refers to as the 'testing' half of the scientific process) and re-fromatted it into the thesis-support style.
This gave my thoughts some legitamacy. After all, great, great writers have written personal/testing style essays that could stand alone (Dillard, Montaigne, Orwell, E.B White, and so on). Why do all that work and leave it chopped up and lying on the editing floor?
Next was the work of Tom Romano, who came up with a way to combat the thesis-support form (the multi-genre research paper). In his book, "Crafting Authentic Voice," he outlines a curriculum to teach voice and style rather than form. That book alone added years to my career. And he also raised an excellent point. Why do so many veteran teachers loathe reading those research papers. Don't be shy. How many of us have dreaded reading those suckers. I know I do. Not just because they are a lot of work, but because they are relatively boring, contain little student voice, and don't contain one ounce of personality. As Romano points out, you know who writes predominately in the thesis-support form? College students and those who are stuck writing a traditional thesis. YOu know who reads those works? Almost no one. Great point.
Finally, Heilker's book "The Essay" points out the danger of teaching the five paragraph theme. It's too easy. Once kids latch on to that form (as my poor student who wrote about shooting a cow instead of deer for his rite of passage did) cling to it and use it for ALL of their writing. It's an easy form to teach. I know during the year when I teach it, it's the only time I really feel like I have control over what and how the kids write. But Zeiger would argue that writing, especially personal, exploratory writing, is messy - and it's hard to feel like you're really teaching the kids anything as they write. This book helped me see where to place the thesis-support form in my curriculum (at the end - after plenty of personal writing).
Well, so much for my concise outline for my proposal! Of course, I'm thinking of talking about the exploratory writing and all the testing of ideas that I did and putting that into the essay too - to model how things are actually written - rather than leaving them chopped up and bleeding on the editing floor.
They may say it's a load of crap and reject it. But I'm fine with that. It was a hell of a time just writing it. And that's the real value of writing anyway.
Well, KoKo just informed me that I must drive her to her friend's homes so she can deliver her invitations for her upcoming sleep over. This routine is at an end.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Once More to the Classroom
Today is my final day in my classroom for this year. Of course, I'll be back several times throughout the summer, but by then I'll have packed everything away and tidied up the room. So when I do stop by - I have a meeting next Wednesday - it simply won't be my room but just an empty shell. It'll likely be mid September before I have everything back in place and know where I've stashed everything.
When I came in with KoKo earlier this week, I found two cards from former students and several art works here. I always ask students to provide me with stuff to hang on my walls. One student left two of her drawings while another left a framed piece. Those will go up around Labor Day. The cards were nice too. One was from a senior heading off to the University of Minnesota. Though I only had him in two classes (Comp I and Brit Lit), I had a great time with him and his irreverent wit. The other card was from a student who was in Comp II and who will be in my Comp II class. She thanked me for putting up with all of her absences (she was in track) and for reading all of her work. I think she'll do wonderfully in College Comp next year.
Once this place is cleaned out, my attention will turn to completing the required lesson plan for the graduate course I'm taking as part of a Minnesota Historical Society grant through Hamline (there's no easy way to ever explain or state that). I enjoy the classes - especially the week long summer sessions where we work with two excellent presenters. While learning about Minnesota history and how it connects to national history is very interesting, it has zilch to do with my classes. Out of the eight or so lesson plans I've done, I haven't used one in class. Nor will I. They're just hurdles jump to get the credit that will get me a lane change. I'd use all the lesson plans, if I taught history or Minnesota history and lit. But I just don't. And 90% of what we have read and studied has been historical, not literature.
Kristie and I watched HBO's "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee" a few weeks ago. It really was excellent. So I think I'm going to do something with that. I'd like to actually show the film in one of my classes. Then I think I'll have students each create a blog (the evaluators love it when you can incorporate technology into your lesson plans). Next, they will choose one of the main characters from the film - Henry Dawes (director of Indian Affairs), Charles Eastman (a 'civilized' Native American), and Sitting Bull (the once great Indian chief now forced to live on a reservation). Then they will do some research on their characters - posting what they find on their blogs. After that, they will write an evaluation of their character's take on the events of "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee" and what led up to the slaughter (he evaluators love it when you can incorporate different perspectives - and that is one thing I found very interesting about the film: it isn't told from 'one' side). The film does a good job showing the government's side of the event (Dawes' point of view), the Native's side (Sitting Bull's POV), and the Natives who are caught in between (Eastman's POV). I want students to analyze all of the forces pulling and pushing their characters.
See now I'm getting fired up about it. But will I ever use it? Maybe. But I haven't used a single lesson plan yet.
Well, time to clean and put away.
When I came in with KoKo earlier this week, I found two cards from former students and several art works here. I always ask students to provide me with stuff to hang on my walls. One student left two of her drawings while another left a framed piece. Those will go up around Labor Day. The cards were nice too. One was from a senior heading off to the University of Minnesota. Though I only had him in two classes (Comp I and Brit Lit), I had a great time with him and his irreverent wit. The other card was from a student who was in Comp II and who will be in my Comp II class. She thanked me for putting up with all of her absences (she was in track) and for reading all of her work. I think she'll do wonderfully in College Comp next year.
Once this place is cleaned out, my attention will turn to completing the required lesson plan for the graduate course I'm taking as part of a Minnesota Historical Society grant through Hamline (there's no easy way to ever explain or state that). I enjoy the classes - especially the week long summer sessions where we work with two excellent presenters. While learning about Minnesota history and how it connects to national history is very interesting, it has zilch to do with my classes. Out of the eight or so lesson plans I've done, I haven't used one in class. Nor will I. They're just hurdles jump to get the credit that will get me a lane change. I'd use all the lesson plans, if I taught history or Minnesota history and lit. But I just don't. And 90% of what we have read and studied has been historical, not literature.
Kristie and I watched HBO's "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee" a few weeks ago. It really was excellent. So I think I'm going to do something with that. I'd like to actually show the film in one of my classes. Then I think I'll have students each create a blog (the evaluators love it when you can incorporate technology into your lesson plans). Next, they will choose one of the main characters from the film - Henry Dawes (director of Indian Affairs), Charles Eastman (a 'civilized' Native American), and Sitting Bull (the once great Indian chief now forced to live on a reservation). Then they will do some research on their characters - posting what they find on their blogs. After that, they will write an evaluation of their character's take on the events of "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee" and what led up to the slaughter (he evaluators love it when you can incorporate different perspectives - and that is one thing I found very interesting about the film: it isn't told from 'one' side). The film does a good job showing the government's side of the event (Dawes' point of view), the Native's side (Sitting Bull's POV), and the Natives who are caught in between (Eastman's POV). I want students to analyze all of the forces pulling and pushing their characters.
See now I'm getting fired up about it. But will I ever use it? Maybe. But I haven't used a single lesson plan yet.
Well, time to clean and put away.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Rainy Thursday
Rain, rain, rain. Ever since we left for the wedding last Tuesday evening, it has pretty much rained steadily. Go figure?
So today I am doing as little as possible. I'm not going in to school - though I have to get my room cleaned out and things filed away for the summer. And I'm not going to worry about it. I can get that taken care of tomorrow or next week. I'll be up there soon enough. We have a department meeting set for next Wednesday. Then I should swing by the ALC and see exactly what I'll be teaching this first summer session.
So far today I've cleaned up the office here at home some. Our upstairs is a total disaster. Ever since Kristie decided to paint our bedroom, everything that had been in our bedroom found its way into the hallway and the office. Then our new bedroom furniture arrived, leaving little room for the things stacked up in the hallway and office.
KoKo and I have been trying to sort and pack them away. However, we do not make a good pair of workers. We share the same random-abstract mindset. So it's not uncommon to see me get lost in playing with Einstein and Mischa while KoKo gets sidetracked color coordinating her markers or alphabetizing her scrapbook entries.
I've decided to take a break from the minimal progress to sit down with a cup of coffee and blog some.
As I was looking at more of the wedding photos, I came across this one. It's still hard for me to look at, but it didn't seem right not to have at least some representation of Mom and Dad there. So the right before we left, I quickly grabbed this photo and frame (which Kristie gave me for my birthday a few years ago) and packed it away for the trip. The photographers did a great job setting it up.
So today I am doing as little as possible. I'm not going in to school - though I have to get my room cleaned out and things filed away for the summer. And I'm not going to worry about it. I can get that taken care of tomorrow or next week. I'll be up there soon enough. We have a department meeting set for next Wednesday. Then I should swing by the ALC and see exactly what I'll be teaching this first summer session.
So far today I've cleaned up the office here at home some. Our upstairs is a total disaster. Ever since Kristie decided to paint our bedroom, everything that had been in our bedroom found its way into the hallway and the office. Then our new bedroom furniture arrived, leaving little room for the things stacked up in the hallway and office.
KoKo and I have been trying to sort and pack them away. However, we do not make a good pair of workers. We share the same random-abstract mindset. So it's not uncommon to see me get lost in playing with Einstein and Mischa while KoKo gets sidetracked color coordinating her markers or alphabetizing her scrapbook entries.
I've decided to take a break from the minimal progress to sit down with a cup of coffee and blog some.
As I was looking at more of the wedding photos, I came across this one. It's still hard for me to look at, but it didn't seem right not to have at least some representation of Mom and Dad there. So the right before we left, I quickly grabbed this photo and frame (which Kristie gave me for my birthday a few years ago) and packed it away for the trip. The photographers did a great job setting it up.
Monday, June 04, 2007
The Pictures
With grades due, our dogs time up in the kennel at the vet's up, and a million other things to do now that we're back, I won't have time to write much here. So I thought I'd post some of the pictures from the wedding and our trip instead.
The weather didn't cooperate with our plans to have the wedding at the lake, so we had to have it in Sylvan lodge instead. And in the end, I think it was perfect.
Kristie with Casey and KoKo
Casey and KoKo walking in
I DO!!!
The wedding party
The weather didn't cooperate with our plans to have the wedding at the lake, so we had to have it in Sylvan lodge instead. And in the end, I think it was perfect.
Kristie with Casey and KoKo
Casey and KoKo walking in
I DO!!!
The wedding party
Our Vows
We decided to write our own vows, and since the pastor's sermon took about 30 seconds, it was a good thing we did! Kristie and I have never been short on words.
I thought I'd follow Kristie in reciting them, but the pastor offered me the chance to go first, and I took it! I knew her's would be a very difficult act to follow.
And I thought I'd be able to read them, but once I got to the part about Mom and Dad, I lost it. That got me choked up, which, in turn, got others worked up (particularly poor KoKo, who was a mess!).
Here are mine --
These words have been the hardest I’ve ever written. For I wanted them to be as true, as real, and as permanent as this bond we forge today.
That, dear, is no easy task.
So I started thinking of love and time. The infinite and finite. Love that makes our time together precious. Time that makes our love so valuable. Because while our love might be inexhaustible, our time is not.
So that got me to thinking of this . . .
Love was
Love is
Love will be
Love was Mom and Dad.
Mom baked for the holidays and Dad was last to leave the table. The stories and laughter rang heavy in the air and heavier in our hearts.
Dad watched from the sidelines and Mom honked the horn.
Mom read mystery novels and Dad napped in his recliner.
Dad gathered us around Mom as she passed and then we gathered around Dad as he passed.
Now
Love is you
You, dear, making our lives beautiful with your passion and zest. Transforming an
old house into our home.
You, my love, supporting and inspiring me. Whenever I get discouraged or doubt myself, I task, what would Kristie do in this situation? How would she handle this?
You, my dearest friend, laughing at my silly jokes and smiling any gloom away.
Catching a glimpse of you and feeling a tear in my eye. Watching you and
smiling so hard my cheeks ache.
It is also
Casey growing into a young man - both confident and awkward in his own skin.
lying on our bed and visiting to the wee hours.
grousing on Saturdays when we roust him and take him off to wherever he doesn’t want to be.
Koko becoming more beautiful each day - and more aware of that beauty
singing and dancing when she doesn’t know I’m watching
saying “I love you” a dozen times a day.
And in the future
Love will be us
Our families shall form new traditions.
Gail will bake for the Thanksgiving.
At Eater Ed’s stories will echo through his house while Lori will shake her head in amusement at Easter.
We will gather at Dad’s in July for our picnics. The stories and laughter will ring again heavy in the air and heavier in our hearts.
Love will be
paying you back with one thousand kisses
being tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
realizing over and over that you’re the one I want to go through time with
us making our life while we’re busy making other plans.
And in the time we will have and with all the love we will have
we simply will be
a new family.
Kristie followed me and was as spectacular as I knew she'd be. My good friend, and former advisor, Mark, emailed me and said if Kristie was as beautiful as her vows, I was indeed a lucky man. And I most certainly am.
Here are her vows.
We’ve always been told it’s better to give than to receive. Maybe it makes me selfish, but I readily receive all that you have so unselfishly given me.
You have given me laughter
You have given me companionship
You have given me friendship
You have given me peace
You have given me happiness
You have given me stability
You have given me honesty
You have given me patience
You have given me loyalty
You have given me balance
You have given me your heart and soul
You have given me those blue eyes to get lost in
You have given me your random-abstract ways
You have given me the Bengals
You have given my children an unbelievable step-father-one that genuinely loves and cares for them
You have given me another wonderful brother and sister along with their beautiful families.
You have given me the privilege of knowing Tex and Sue; two of the kindest, gentlest, sweetest people that were taken away from us far too soon
But most importantly you have given me love. Unconditional, unwavering, undying love. A love that is so strong and so pure, it often overwhelms me. A love I greedily accept because it completes and fulfills my entire being.
And because no relationship can sustain with one giver and one receiver, and because I do believe my mom and dad raised me right, I promise to give to you as well.
I give you my laughter
I give you my companionship
I give you my heart
I give you my friendship
I give you my faith in us
I give you my goofiness
I give you Casey and KoKo, and Joker, and Kozy, and Einstien and Mischa
I give you my family
I give you my honesty
I give you my loyalty
I give you some things you may not want: such as my concrete-sequential and neurotic ways of doing things, my inexplicable need to dance at random moments, my cooking and my Packers
But above all, I give you my love. Because darling, I never knew it was possible to love someone (other than Casey and KoKo) as much as I love you. It’s a love that aches when you’re absent and shines when you’re near. It’s a love that will continue to grow and blossom with each new sunrise. It’s a love that needs to be shared because it is far too much for me to keep to myself.
I love you Kurt and may we continue to give and receive each other’s love for ever and for always.
I thought I'd follow Kristie in reciting them, but the pastor offered me the chance to go first, and I took it! I knew her's would be a very difficult act to follow.
And I thought I'd be able to read them, but once I got to the part about Mom and Dad, I lost it. That got me choked up, which, in turn, got others worked up (particularly poor KoKo, who was a mess!).
Here are mine --
These words have been the hardest I’ve ever written. For I wanted them to be as true, as real, and as permanent as this bond we forge today.
That, dear, is no easy task.
So I started thinking of love and time. The infinite and finite. Love that makes our time together precious. Time that makes our love so valuable. Because while our love might be inexhaustible, our time is not.
So that got me to thinking of this . . .
Love was
Love is
Love will be
Love was Mom and Dad.
Mom baked for the holidays and Dad was last to leave the table. The stories and laughter rang heavy in the air and heavier in our hearts.
Dad watched from the sidelines and Mom honked the horn.
Mom read mystery novels and Dad napped in his recliner.
Dad gathered us around Mom as she passed and then we gathered around Dad as he passed.
Now
Love is you
You, dear, making our lives beautiful with your passion and zest. Transforming an
old house into our home.
You, my love, supporting and inspiring me. Whenever I get discouraged or doubt myself, I task, what would Kristie do in this situation? How would she handle this?
You, my dearest friend, laughing at my silly jokes and smiling any gloom away.
Catching a glimpse of you and feeling a tear in my eye. Watching you and
smiling so hard my cheeks ache.
It is also
Casey growing into a young man - both confident and awkward in his own skin.
lying on our bed and visiting to the wee hours.
grousing on Saturdays when we roust him and take him off to wherever he doesn’t want to be.
Koko becoming more beautiful each day - and more aware of that beauty
singing and dancing when she doesn’t know I’m watching
saying “I love you” a dozen times a day.
And in the future
Love will be us
Our families shall form new traditions.
Gail will bake for the Thanksgiving.
At Eater Ed’s stories will echo through his house while Lori will shake her head in amusement at Easter.
We will gather at Dad’s in July for our picnics. The stories and laughter will ring again heavy in the air and heavier in our hearts.
Love will be
paying you back with one thousand kisses
being tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
realizing over and over that you’re the one I want to go through time with
us making our life while we’re busy making other plans.
And in the time we will have and with all the love we will have
we simply will be
a new family.
Kristie followed me and was as spectacular as I knew she'd be. My good friend, and former advisor, Mark, emailed me and said if Kristie was as beautiful as her vows, I was indeed a lucky man. And I most certainly am.
Here are her vows.
We’ve always been told it’s better to give than to receive. Maybe it makes me selfish, but I readily receive all that you have so unselfishly given me.
You have given me laughter
You have given me companionship
You have given me friendship
You have given me peace
You have given me happiness
You have given me stability
You have given me honesty
You have given me patience
You have given me loyalty
You have given me balance
You have given me your heart and soul
You have given me those blue eyes to get lost in
You have given me your random-abstract ways
You have given me the Bengals
You have given my children an unbelievable step-father-one that genuinely loves and cares for them
You have given me another wonderful brother and sister along with their beautiful families.
You have given me the privilege of knowing Tex and Sue; two of the kindest, gentlest, sweetest people that were taken away from us far too soon
But most importantly you have given me love. Unconditional, unwavering, undying love. A love that is so strong and so pure, it often overwhelms me. A love I greedily accept because it completes and fulfills my entire being.
And because no relationship can sustain with one giver and one receiver, and because I do believe my mom and dad raised me right, I promise to give to you as well.
I give you my laughter
I give you my companionship
I give you my heart
I give you my friendship
I give you my faith in us
I give you my goofiness
I give you Casey and KoKo, and Joker, and Kozy, and Einstien and Mischa
I give you my family
I give you my honesty
I give you my loyalty
I give you some things you may not want: such as my concrete-sequential and neurotic ways of doing things, my inexplicable need to dance at random moments, my cooking and my Packers
But above all, I give you my love. Because darling, I never knew it was possible to love someone (other than Casey and KoKo) as much as I love you. It’s a love that aches when you’re absent and shines when you’re near. It’s a love that will continue to grow and blossom with each new sunrise. It’s a love that needs to be shared because it is far too much for me to keep to myself.
I love you Kurt and may we continue to give and receive each other’s love for ever and for always.
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