Kenzie has come down with her first cold. Her cough sounds terrible. Kristie took her to the local clinic, but they assured us that it was nothing serious. However, the poor little girl has been worn out.
She has not been sleeping all the way through the past couple nights. However, today she hit her wall. She has been zonked out since around 6:30. It's now 11, and she has just stirred a little.
So I'm taking the first half of the night to keep an eye on her - since when she sleeps in her playpen, she sleeps on her tummy - and to play with her when she wakes up. Luckily, I caught a nap. I slept through most of American Idol.
To pass the time, I thought I'd blog a little since with the end of the quarter and a ton of assignments to grade, I didn't have much time.
Here goes --
A few weeks ago, we had a staff development day where the Language Arts teachers in the district met at our local elementary school.
I was thoroughly impressed. You want to talk about being aligned. Those people have it down. Their efficiency is incredible.
Plus, (and I've said this before) I think it should be mandatory for high school teachers to at least visit elementary school rooms. How can a child not love to learn with as creative and inviting as those rooms are.
A friend of mine, who is also the assistant principal at the middle school, was with me while we got a tour of the Language Arts teachers' rooms at the elementary school, and we got to talk about what happens to kids' love for learning as they grow older.
"It all goes to hell when they get to us," I surmised, referring to what happens to their imaginations and love for learning when they hit adolescents and come to the high school.
"It doesn't have to be," he said.
And I agree. But that's how it is for far too many kids for far too much of the time.
I'm not saying the culprit can easily be identified either. Blame doesn't rest on just one person, place, or thing.
Adolescents and all the hell that breaks loose there certainly is responsible. Peer pressure is a factor too. As is the drive for athletics and other extra curricular activities. Parenting is involved. Technology is a huge factor.
But certainly, teachers are to blame too. Come on. How many elementary teachers can you recall having who lectured all the time? Now think about your high school teachers who just droned on all the time.
That's what I'm talking about.
But I was really re-energized after seeing those elementary rooms and hearing about their programs.
*****
One thing that amazes me about our high school is all of the opportunities we provide our students. I was visiting with a junior who was about to leave for the German class trip to Germany and another senior, who had gone on the same trip the year before.
We took a quick count of all the trips one could take in the four years at Lincoln.
Talk about impressive. The Magnet Arts program takes yearly trips to the Twin Cities to visit museums and take in several plays. The Close Up program goes to Washington, D.C. every spring. The German class goes to German every year. The Spanish class has gone to Costa Rica in the past. The choir classes go to New York every other year. The band takes a trip to different locations every couple of years. The senior football players get a trip to the cities every fall. And these were just what we came up with in ten minutes. Remarkably, the senior I was visiting with had been to Washington, New York, the Twin Cities, and Germany - all during her high school career.
Those are some wonderful opportunities.
When I was in high school, we took a trip to Bemidji for a leadership lyceum and then we got to see a play at the Chester Fritz in Grand Forks. In elementary school, we got to ski in Bemidji and take in the Shrine Circus in Grand Forks.
Not quite the same thing.
*****
Is there anything sorrier than mock news shows like The Insider and Entertainment Tonight.
I have read a lot lately about the shrinking attention spans of children and their inability to dig deep beyond superficial layers of comprehension. It's no surpsise after wathing shows like this.
The Insider just ran a lead piece on Madonna and her supposed trading in human trinkets, referencing today's edition of the New York Post cover story in which a reporter attacks Madonna's decision to adopt another third world baby - claiming that she is trying to ease the pain of turning 50 by taking home a third world daughter to match the last baby she bought like a human trinket. Now this is a serious issue with great potential for analysis and discussion of morality and ethics.
Is this a fad? Think of all those stars you see sporting those little dogs on their arms (supposedly Paris Hilton is terrible for this. She will buy a new dog and then forget about it in one of her homes where the help will find the thing either locked in a closet or starving in a bedroom). Is this just a fad like that? It's terrible to say, but how easy is it for say Madonna or Brangelina to adopt a baby? How difficult is it for a regular person to adopt a baby? What issues does the child face being ripped from their families (it's not like all of these adopted children were orphans) and taken to a totally different world? What are the effects on the families the children leave behind? What does it say about parents who are willing to 'sell' their children to rich Americans wanting to adopt? What happens if these adoptions don't work out? Who raises the children when Madonna is off touring or whoring around with another pro athlete?
All serious questions that could be discussed.
Yet,what does The Insider do? It examines some paparrazi pics and describes them: "hand in hand new video show Madonna with her son Rocko - sporitng a mohawk - while she is wearing combat boots, camoflaug pants and dark shades. Little David (her adopted son) in green shorts and a yellow tee. The three year old is also spotted strumming an instrument. Seated on the floor is Madonna expressing her creativity by weaving a basket. Next frame, Madonna takes David to meet his father. But he doesn't recognize him. It is the first time he has seen him in three years."
Now what could the viewer not surmize from this by simply looking at the pictures? Do we really need the 'anchor' to tell us what the people are actually wearing?
Now, I know people have bemoaned that newspapers too have stopped going in depth and started catering to the masses by basically doing shallow journalism, claiming that no one really reads deeply anymore. At least that's not what they buy newspapers for.
I don't doubt this either. Just browse the news on yahoo. It's not exactly in depth journalism. It's the basic who, what, where, when, why, and how and a link to other sources all in under 200 words.
And we wonder why Americans are struggling with higher order thinking skills!
It's the world of Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.
Now Inside Edition has moved on to a picture of Mick Rourke kissing a puppy, Paul Macartney's zipper being down during a benefit, a housewife from the Real Housewives of New York is getting a divorce, and Zach Efron's new shirtless pics.
What significant news!
I know people will talk about how gossip has ALWAYS been a component of our society. Just recount those stories in small town papers which chronicle how so and so had dinner at so and so's house on Saturday. But that was always - or so I thought - treated as a joke. Something you put in there to appease the little old ladies who live in assisted living centers who keep small town papers alive because of their desire to know crap like that.
But how many millions tune in to this type of crap. I mean there is an entire channel devoted to this - E!
And really, what is Facebook? Another way to traffic in rather meaningless information. When we were in the Radisson last weekend, KoKo hopped on my laptop to update her wall or board or whatever it's called on Facebook to let everyone know that she was excited . . . or love Rent . . . or was looking forward to shopping . . . or anxious to go home . . . or who knows what else.
Again, superficial information and superficial thinking. And how many millions of kids do this every minute of every day? Texting is the same thing.
For all the potential new technology offers, it still scares the hell out of me.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Where the Wild Things Are
I loved - and was scared of - this book as a kid. What kid didn't have this book? I had almost forgotten about it. Then we were in Dr. Connolly's office for Kenzie's vaccination shots when I looked through his magazine rack. Stashed inside was a book. As I pulled it out, I saw an odd looking creature on the cover that was vaguely familiar. I mean I haven't seen that cover for 30 years.
Once I saw the title though, it all came back to me.
"Where the Wild Things Are," Kristie said. "I love that book."
And now it's being made into a film. Judging by the trailer, it should be great . . .
Once I saw the title though, it all came back to me.
"Where the Wild Things Are," Kristie said. "I love that book."
And now it's being made into a film. Judging by the trailer, it should be great . . .
Off to daycare
Boy, were we worried for nothing. Kenzie loves daycare. And they love her. We are pleased.
Except now she has a cold and cough. That is inevitable, though, and good, I guess. She has to build up that immune system some time, right?
Except now she has a cold and cough. That is inevitable, though, and good, I guess. She has to build up that immune system some time, right?
Back from the cities
Minneapolis. A wonderful place to visit. But I would never want to live there.
The cities are great. We have visited the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, the Ordway, the zoo, the Orpheum, and, of course, the Mall of America.
There is so much for one to do. All in such close proximity.
But the driving!
I actually enjoy the drive down to the cities. Until we get on to the interstate at Clearwater. Then I’m a nervous wreck.
There’s just something about being nearly bumper to bumper at 70 miles an hour that terrifies me.
Now, throw in having to observe the signs . . . and I’m a wreck.
Thank God for mapquest!
But still, it terrifies me. What happens if we miss our exit? Mapquest is only good for where you are going. It doesn’t come with contingency directions.
I guess that is what GPS is for, but I don’t see that in our future any time soon.
Luckily, we had Jake, Casey’s friend, along with us. He was familiar with downtown Minneapolis. Plus, Kristie has a good sense of direction.
Me? I’m clueless down there. I’ll get to looking at something and whiz right past our turn. Or, worse, get so caught up in trying to follow the signs that I get on the wrong route. I used to think that you had to be right beneath those huge signs and right on the specific lane in order to be on, say 35W. Even though in reality the entire road is 35W. I thought the middle lane was 35W while the lane to the left was 494 and the lane on my right was 594 (if there is such a road!). You can imagine how hectic that was!
“Oh, you’d get used to it,” people always say about the traffic down there after the obligatory, “I could never live down here. The traffic . . .”
I don’t think I could ever get used to the traffic. Not when I’m the kind of guy who likes his directions phrases as “turn left at the gas station and then hang a right by that big empty lot. Then when you get to the house with the German Shepard out front, take another right . . .”
Now, I can follow those directions. Doesn’t help much when you’re bumper to bumper at 70 mph and the only thing you can see besides other cars are those large walls that separate neighborhoods from the interstate.
The cities are great. We have visited the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, the Ordway, the zoo, the Orpheum, and, of course, the Mall of America.
There is so much for one to do. All in such close proximity.
But the driving!
I actually enjoy the drive down to the cities. Until we get on to the interstate at Clearwater. Then I’m a nervous wreck.
There’s just something about being nearly bumper to bumper at 70 miles an hour that terrifies me.
Now, throw in having to observe the signs . . . and I’m a wreck.
Thank God for mapquest!
But still, it terrifies me. What happens if we miss our exit? Mapquest is only good for where you are going. It doesn’t come with contingency directions.
I guess that is what GPS is for, but I don’t see that in our future any time soon.
Luckily, we had Jake, Casey’s friend, along with us. He was familiar with downtown Minneapolis. Plus, Kristie has a good sense of direction.
Me? I’m clueless down there. I’ll get to looking at something and whiz right past our turn. Or, worse, get so caught up in trying to follow the signs that I get on the wrong route. I used to think that you had to be right beneath those huge signs and right on the specific lane in order to be on, say 35W. Even though in reality the entire road is 35W. I thought the middle lane was 35W while the lane to the left was 494 and the lane on my right was 594 (if there is such a road!). You can imagine how hectic that was!
“Oh, you’d get used to it,” people always say about the traffic down there after the obligatory, “I could never live down here. The traffic . . .”
I don’t think I could ever get used to the traffic. Not when I’m the kind of guy who likes his directions phrases as “turn left at the gas station and then hang a right by that big empty lot. Then when you get to the house with the German Shepard out front, take another right . . .”
Now, I can follow those directions. Doesn’t help much when you’re bumper to bumper at 70 mph and the only thing you can see besides other cars are those large walls that separate neighborhoods from the interstate.
Monday, March 30, 2009
A lot to think about
I'm sure some of the 'facts' or statistics used here are taken out of context and questionable, but it gives a teacher a lot to think about.
How can we best reach our students? The days of students coming to school to learn are over . . . if they ever were even here. Instead, learning needs to be digitalized and made relevant, applicable, and entertaining.
That's not an easy task. A lot of teachers will dig their heels in and refuse to change. But those teachers are losing the kids anyway and were never particularly effective anyway. However, those who want to get better will find ways to innovate and improve.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday
Rent was phenomenal. It was great seeing the original Mark and Roger reprise their roles. The actress who played Maureen brought a lot of humor to the role and did a fantastic job. As did the actor who played Angel.
After the musical, we headed back to the hotel and then ventured over the Mall of America. We had an excellent meal at Famous Dave's.
Then Kristie and KoKo did their share of shopping at Rainbow, a clothing store, and the Fossil store in the mall. I bided my time for Legoland and the Apple store.
Here is my Mecca.
I also spoiled myself and bought a new 120 GB iPod. Now I don't have to worry about selecting which podcasts and movies I want, which I had to with my 30 GB iPod - which KoKo will inherit since she had hers stolen during basketball.
After the musical, we headed back to the hotel and then ventured over the Mall of America. We had an excellent meal at Famous Dave's.
Then Kristie and KoKo did their share of shopping at Rainbow, a clothing store, and the Fossil store in the mall. I bided my time for Legoland and the Apple store.
Here is my Mecca.
I also spoiled myself and bought a new 120 GB iPod. Now I don't have to worry about selecting which podcasts and movies I want, which I had to with my 30 GB iPod - which KoKo will inherit since she had hers stolen during basketball.
Multi-genres
Well, the multi-genre papers came in yesterday.
Now what?
I'm encouraged by how motivated the kids were. One colleague said that two of her students, who are in my College Comp class, wanted her to read them and give feedback. She wasn't sure what type of feedback to give since she wasn't familiar with the assignment; however, she did state that it was nice to see that the students were willing to share their work.
I agree.
I even had a couple students sneak into my room and say that another class was writing five paragraph themes. They were shocked. I had to remind them, of course, that we too have written five paragraph themes (film review, literary analysis, persuasive essay)! I also reminded them that though I loathe them, they will encounter them in college (I recall even in grad school being told in my Literary Criticism class to basically write the five paragraph, thesis/support form for my major paper).
I'm just glad that they have come out of our English department having been exposed to a variety of forms and have been able to choose which form they enjoy most.
I'll admit this now -- I'm not sure how to grade these multi-genre papers. I'll enjoy them - no doubt. But assigning a grade will not be easy. That is one thing I - gulp - enjoy about the five paragraph essay - it's quite easy to grade and you can give students pretty clear feedback on what they could to to improve.
I realized I was in trouble with this a few days ago when I was reading a personal research paper from one of my students. She was writing a gut-wrenching paper on brain aneurysms. The essay detailed her mother's recovery from a sudden brain aneurysm. As I said, it was gut-wrenching. I felt foolish marking such trivial things as punctuation and usage errors in the face of such emotion, voice, and power.
I think I'll encounter that with these multi-genre papers too.
Now what?
I'm encouraged by how motivated the kids were. One colleague said that two of her students, who are in my College Comp class, wanted her to read them and give feedback. She wasn't sure what type of feedback to give since she wasn't familiar with the assignment; however, she did state that it was nice to see that the students were willing to share their work.
I agree.
I even had a couple students sneak into my room and say that another class was writing five paragraph themes. They were shocked. I had to remind them, of course, that we too have written five paragraph themes (film review, literary analysis, persuasive essay)! I also reminded them that though I loathe them, they will encounter them in college (I recall even in grad school being told in my Literary Criticism class to basically write the five paragraph, thesis/support form for my major paper).
I'm just glad that they have come out of our English department having been exposed to a variety of forms and have been able to choose which form they enjoy most.
I'll admit this now -- I'm not sure how to grade these multi-genre papers. I'll enjoy them - no doubt. But assigning a grade will not be easy. That is one thing I - gulp - enjoy about the five paragraph essay - it's quite easy to grade and you can give students pretty clear feedback on what they could to to improve.
I realized I was in trouble with this a few days ago when I was reading a personal research paper from one of my students. She was writing a gut-wrenching paper on brain aneurysms. The essay detailed her mother's recovery from a sudden brain aneurysm. As I said, it was gut-wrenching. I felt foolish marking such trivial things as punctuation and usage errors in the face of such emotion, voice, and power.
I think I'll encounter that with these multi-genre papers too.
End of the Season
Despite the support of some great fans, the Eagles' girls' backetball season came to an end.
Made it
We made it to our hotel, the Radisson Plaze right in downtown Minneapolis, with little trouble (thanks to Mapquest!).
Today is Rent and probably the Mall of America (I'll be keeping my eye out for the Lego store and the Apple store). But really when you go there it's not so much to shop as it is for the experience. Rene, who came with, wants to go on a ride, so we might have to check those out.
The only problem with the trip is that I miss Kenzie. Gail is watching her for the weekend. Since the kids had only a half day of school on Friday and Kristie got off early to get everything packed and ready, we basically left as soon as I got home from school. So I just got to hold Kenzie for a few minutes before we loaded up the Trailblazer and hit the road.
But I think we'll leave pretty early on Sunday - and forgo stopping at the mall in Albertville - to get home to see her.
It'll be good, though, for Gail and Kenzie to get some time together since Gail hasn' seen her since we started bringing her to daycare.
Today is Rent and probably the Mall of America (I'll be keeping my eye out for the Lego store and the Apple store). But really when you go there it's not so much to shop as it is for the experience. Rene, who came with, wants to go on a ride, so we might have to check those out.
The only problem with the trip is that I miss Kenzie. Gail is watching her for the weekend. Since the kids had only a half day of school on Friday and Kristie got off early to get everything packed and ready, we basically left as soon as I got home from school. So I just got to hold Kenzie for a few minutes before we loaded up the Trailblazer and hit the road.
But I think we'll leave pretty early on Sunday - and forgo stopping at the mall in Albertville - to get home to see her.
It'll be good, though, for Gail and Kenzie to get some time together since Gail hasn' seen her since we started bringing her to daycare.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
The toughest day of all.
Kristie and I dropped Kenzie off at daycare today.
A few weeks ago when Kristie mentioned sending Kenzie to Small Word (our daycare provider), I actually teared up. I just had this picture of our little girl looking back at us as we handed her off to relative strangers for the day.
However, I am happy to report that the exact opposite occurred. Once we brought her in, she actually reached for one of the daycare providers. She held her while she filled Kristie and I in on what her day would be like and what we could expect to happen. The little turkey didn’t fret at all and she seemed to be right at home there.
They even told us that we could call anytime to check on her. Kristie made it all the way to about ten. I called her to see how things were going – and she was on the phone with the Small World! I guess I wasn’t any better.
I was, though, relieved to hear that everything was going well and Kenzie had even taken a bit of a nap.
Now, three o’clock can’t get here fast enough for me. Since I get to pick her up!
****
Saturday, Kristie had a much needed ‘day off’ and went over to GF for some shopping with Tricia.
I stayed home with Kenzie, for a much needed ‘daddy and daughter day.’
For lunch, Kenzie and I sat down for some chili. Don’t worry! I only gave her some buttered bread and apple juice. The chili was for me.
However, as I fed her, I thought I felt some sharp little teeth in her mouth. Sure enough, two teeth have poked through on her bottom gums.
****
Kristie and I dropped Kenzie off at daycare today.
A few weeks ago when Kristie mentioned sending Kenzie to Small Word (our daycare provider), I actually teared up. I just had this picture of our little girl looking back at us as we handed her off to relative strangers for the day.
However, I am happy to report that the exact opposite occurred. Once we brought her in, she actually reached for one of the daycare providers. She held her while she filled Kristie and I in on what her day would be like and what we could expect to happen. The little turkey didn’t fret at all and she seemed to be right at home there.
They even told us that we could call anytime to check on her. Kristie made it all the way to about ten. I called her to see how things were going – and she was on the phone with the Small World! I guess I wasn’t any better.
I was, though, relieved to hear that everything was going well and Kenzie had even taken a bit of a nap.
Now, three o’clock can’t get here fast enough for me. Since I get to pick her up!
****
Saturday, Kristie had a much needed ‘day off’ and went over to GF for some shopping with Tricia.
I stayed home with Kenzie, for a much needed ‘daddy and daughter day.’
For lunch, Kenzie and I sat down for some chili. Don’t worry! I only gave her some buttered bread and apple juice. The chili was for me.
However, as I fed her, I thought I felt some sharp little teeth in her mouth. Sure enough, two teeth have poked through on her bottom gums.
****
In College Comp II we are doing multi-genre research papers.
These kids are phenomenal.
They are taking this rather strange concept and totally running with it.
I asked them to fill out a form detailing their topics, what aspect of their topics they will focus on, the genres they will incorporate, examples and ideas for each genre, and finally any concerns or questions they might have.
The topics alone blew me away. One student is researching her mother, who died when she was a child. Another is writing a paper on ethics, using the recent Watchmen movie and its heroes as examples. Another is analyzing how deer works as a family bonding experience. Yet another is writing an ode to her parents. While another student is researching her grandfather.
Then there are some off the cuff ones: one focusing on the Rubik’s Cube, UFC (Unlimited Fighting Championship), cheesecake, and Superman.
All are interesting. More importantly, all are personally meaningful.
I can’t believe I get paid to read them.
****
Brian, a former student of mine, stopped by last week for a visit while he was home on spring break from the U.
What an amazing young man he has become. I am so proud of him and the fact that I was able to play a small role in his time here.
I recall two excellent essays – one on a particularly grizzly wipe out he had while biking and an excellent persuasive essay on the advantages of shipping via locomotives rather than diesel trucks.
We talked for a good hour before the bell rang, ending my prep block.
***
These kids are phenomenal.
They are taking this rather strange concept and totally running with it.
I asked them to fill out a form detailing their topics, what aspect of their topics they will focus on, the genres they will incorporate, examples and ideas for each genre, and finally any concerns or questions they might have.
The topics alone blew me away. One student is researching her mother, who died when she was a child. Another is writing a paper on ethics, using the recent Watchmen movie and its heroes as examples. Another is analyzing how deer works as a family bonding experience. Yet another is writing an ode to her parents. While another student is researching her grandfather.
Then there are some off the cuff ones: one focusing on the Rubik’s Cube, UFC (Unlimited Fighting Championship), cheesecake, and Superman.
All are interesting. More importantly, all are personally meaningful.
I can’t believe I get paid to read them.
****
Brian, a former student of mine, stopped by last week for a visit while he was home on spring break from the U.
What an amazing young man he has become. I am so proud of him and the fact that I was able to play a small role in his time here.
I recall two excellent essays – one on a particularly grizzly wipe out he had while biking and an excellent persuasive essay on the advantages of shipping via locomotives rather than diesel trucks.
We talked for a good hour before the bell rang, ending my prep block.
***
Of sump pumps and sanity
Kristie registered a complaint about my blog – there’s not enough writing in it. Plus, she can’t access all the video and ipapers I put on there.
The truth is I was just learning how to embed stuff in my blog, so I was having a bit of fun with it. Plus, I’ve been swamped with work, so I haven’t had any time to blog.
I can’t believe all that has been packed into the past week.
My previous real blog entry detailed our troubles with water pressure on Sunday. I thought “What next?”
Well, “next” came Monday when I got home from school. Since it was warm and sunny, I decided to park in front. Whenever it’s cold, I pull my car in the garage. You can’t imagine how I look forward to spring when I don’t have to do that and I can just leave my car out on the street without fear of calendar parking or having to warm it up.
I came in to the house after a good day of school and a general feeling that all was well with the world. I couldn’t wait to see Kenzie, so I entered the kitchen where Gail was holding Kenzie.
After kissing my little girl and making her giggle, I opened up the door to the basement to let our dogs out. That was when the “next” struck, for I noticed water – literally – running in through the back door and down the basement steps.
I made the mistake of opening the back door to see what actually was going on. That was when water really began to flow in since there was at least six inches of water backed up against the door.
Since it was so nice out, the snow, which had been piled up along our sidewalk, melted quite rapidly. This was compounded by the fact that our old sidewalk has sunk and actually descends as it gets closer to the house. This was compounded by our new patio. The yard used to be able to absorb all that extra water. But now the patio does not allow for that. We were sure to slant the patio stones away form the house. However, we put a small brick retaining wall along the edge of the patio. Since there was just so much water, the patio and retaining bricks were effectively funneling all the water to the back of our house and into our basement.
I told Gail to send Casey out to help me.
Help me with what, well, I wasn’t sure yet. I grabbed one of our recycling bins hoping to at least scoop some of water away from the house. This was futile.
While Casey and I were outside planning on what to do (we tried scooping the water away in vain. He began shoveling some of the snow away to at least keep it from melting and sending more water in. I was trying to dig up the frozen hose for the sump pump. I was bent on getting that running so we could get the water out of the basement asap.
Of course, while we were focused on this, there came a pounding from the kitchen window. Gail was holding Kenzie and beckoning to us.
It does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that she wanted to offer her two cents on how to solve this crisis. Well, you can imagine how well that went over with Casey and I.
You see, listening to her advice was not on the top list of our priorities at that moment.
You see, also listening to her advice would mean abandoning what we were doing and walking all the way around to the front of the house (couldn’t open the back door), taking off our boots, and listening to her advice.
Let me remind you of the time I spent a good chunk of a wet, fall morning piling our patio furniture into the back of Casey’s pickup. That’s when I noticed Gail standing at the same window beckoning to me. Guess what? She had more advice!
Nothing like getting advice from someone watching you do all the work!
Now, I know this is the role of parents. I recall many times my father doing the same thing. In fact, the summer before he died, we were cleaning out the cemetery where Mom was buried. While I ran the weed whacker, Dad still found the time to come over and tell me how to do it better . Errrrrrrrr.
Casey, whose patience was running much lower than mine, yelled at Gail to open the window if she wanted to talk to us.
Yet, she was not able to figure out how to do that. And she was going to tell us what to do!
So, frustrated, she stomped upstairs to and woke Kristie up, who had been suffering from the stomach flu, to tell her that Casey and I weren’t listening to her advice, and, by the way, water was pouring in the back door.
Of course, this was wonderfully ironic because Gail had been home all day. All she would have to have done was peak out the back door sometime – or actually listen while she was in the kitchen – and she would have not only seen but also heard the water flowing in. It’s not like it just happened the moment I got home!
Well, things really started to pick up there.
Whenever something like this hits, the first thoughts are Call Dad. He’ll know exactly what to do. And if he were still alive, he’d have loaded the pick up with pumps, extension cords, and yards of hose, and headed in to town.
What was Gail’s big advice? I’m sure you’ve been wondering. It actually was pretty sound advice: sand bags.
Of course, it’s a good thing she didn’t offer that to Casey and me as we were ankle deep in water in the back yard because we’d have gone after her with our shovels like the villagers after Frankenstein.
Where should we get the sand bag?. Oh wait, I’ve got one right here behind this tree! Oh wait, it’s over by the propane tank!
I knew the county highway department had sandbags, but they were closed. It’s not like we had a stockpile in the back of the garage.
Kristie, now up and frustrated as we all were at finding the water flowing into our basement, called a friend who worked in the city’s office. She suggested calling the police. They eventually got us some sandbags to pile in front of the door to keep the water at bay.
While all of this was going on, I was also attempting to get our sump pump working correctly. Of course, Gail, whose sump pump quite working on her a few months ago and she had to pay someone to replace it, suddenly became the expert on all things sump pump related.
“Did you check the base?” She inquired.
“What?”
“The base on my sump pump was bad.”
“The base is fine,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“Well, because I just spent the past five minutes scooping dirt and sand out of it!” I said.
“Well, how old is it?”
“I think the patent ran out in ’56, but I’ll be sure to check the next time I stick my head down in the hole again,” I said, thinking of what to do next.
“Well, you know . . . they are only good for about five years,” Gail added.
When did she become the Alex Trebek of sump pumps?
“I think ours has lasted a little longer than that,” I said, looking for a flashlight.
“Are you sure the base is okay?”
Alex, I’ll take “Most Annoying Things One Can Do In An Emergency” for a 1,000!
“Because, you know, the plate underneath the pump was bad on mine.”
You’re in luck Kurt, it’s a Daily Double!
“Are you sure . . .”
Great, Alex, I’ll wager my entire sanity!
I left Casey in charge of remedying the sump pump. It was working perfectly. The only problem was that it would not shut off. However, after scooping all of the silt and crap out of the bottom, it began to finally shut off on its own.
Kristie began shoveling snow away from the patio so some of the water at least could pool on the patio instead of being funneled directly at our back door.
Gail, who was really frustrated that no one was taking her advice, handed Kenzie to a bewildered Casey and declared, “I have to let the dog out!” Then she made a phone call – no doubt to one of Kristie’s brothers to complain how we were not taking her advice.
I headed to Hardware Hank in TRF to purchase a pump, extension cord, and hose, with Dad’s would-be instructions echoing in my mind.
Eventually, thanks mostly to Kristie’s fast thinking, we were able to avert disaster. The cops showed up with a dozen sand bags and stacked them in front of the door. Then while Kristie was shoveling, our neighbor came home and offered us the use of her pump.
When I returned with a second pump and 75 feet of hose, we were able to divert most of the water to the street. Dad would have been proud. And like Gail, he would have offered his fair share of advice!
The truth is I was just learning how to embed stuff in my blog, so I was having a bit of fun with it. Plus, I’ve been swamped with work, so I haven’t had any time to blog.
I can’t believe all that has been packed into the past week.
My previous real blog entry detailed our troubles with water pressure on Sunday. I thought “What next?”
Well, “next” came Monday when I got home from school. Since it was warm and sunny, I decided to park in front. Whenever it’s cold, I pull my car in the garage. You can’t imagine how I look forward to spring when I don’t have to do that and I can just leave my car out on the street without fear of calendar parking or having to warm it up.
I came in to the house after a good day of school and a general feeling that all was well with the world. I couldn’t wait to see Kenzie, so I entered the kitchen where Gail was holding Kenzie.
After kissing my little girl and making her giggle, I opened up the door to the basement to let our dogs out. That was when the “next” struck, for I noticed water – literally – running in through the back door and down the basement steps.
I made the mistake of opening the back door to see what actually was going on. That was when water really began to flow in since there was at least six inches of water backed up against the door.
Since it was so nice out, the snow, which had been piled up along our sidewalk, melted quite rapidly. This was compounded by the fact that our old sidewalk has sunk and actually descends as it gets closer to the house. This was compounded by our new patio. The yard used to be able to absorb all that extra water. But now the patio does not allow for that. We were sure to slant the patio stones away form the house. However, we put a small brick retaining wall along the edge of the patio. Since there was just so much water, the patio and retaining bricks were effectively funneling all the water to the back of our house and into our basement.
I told Gail to send Casey out to help me.
Help me with what, well, I wasn’t sure yet. I grabbed one of our recycling bins hoping to at least scoop some of water away from the house. This was futile.
While Casey and I were outside planning on what to do (we tried scooping the water away in vain. He began shoveling some of the snow away to at least keep it from melting and sending more water in. I was trying to dig up the frozen hose for the sump pump. I was bent on getting that running so we could get the water out of the basement asap.
Of course, while we were focused on this, there came a pounding from the kitchen window. Gail was holding Kenzie and beckoning to us.
It does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that she wanted to offer her two cents on how to solve this crisis. Well, you can imagine how well that went over with Casey and I.
You see, listening to her advice was not on the top list of our priorities at that moment.
You see, also listening to her advice would mean abandoning what we were doing and walking all the way around to the front of the house (couldn’t open the back door), taking off our boots, and listening to her advice.
Let me remind you of the time I spent a good chunk of a wet, fall morning piling our patio furniture into the back of Casey’s pickup. That’s when I noticed Gail standing at the same window beckoning to me. Guess what? She had more advice!
Nothing like getting advice from someone watching you do all the work!
Now, I know this is the role of parents. I recall many times my father doing the same thing. In fact, the summer before he died, we were cleaning out the cemetery where Mom was buried. While I ran the weed whacker, Dad still found the time to come over and tell me how to do it better . Errrrrrrrr.
Casey, whose patience was running much lower than mine, yelled at Gail to open the window if she wanted to talk to us.
Yet, she was not able to figure out how to do that. And she was going to tell us what to do!
So, frustrated, she stomped upstairs to and woke Kristie up, who had been suffering from the stomach flu, to tell her that Casey and I weren’t listening to her advice, and, by the way, water was pouring in the back door.
Of course, this was wonderfully ironic because Gail had been home all day. All she would have to have done was peak out the back door sometime – or actually listen while she was in the kitchen – and she would have not only seen but also heard the water flowing in. It’s not like it just happened the moment I got home!
Well, things really started to pick up there.
Whenever something like this hits, the first thoughts are Call Dad. He’ll know exactly what to do. And if he were still alive, he’d have loaded the pick up with pumps, extension cords, and yards of hose, and headed in to town.
What was Gail’s big advice? I’m sure you’ve been wondering. It actually was pretty sound advice: sand bags.
Of course, it’s a good thing she didn’t offer that to Casey and me as we were ankle deep in water in the back yard because we’d have gone after her with our shovels like the villagers after Frankenstein.
Where should we get the sand bag?. Oh wait, I’ve got one right here behind this tree! Oh wait, it’s over by the propane tank!
I knew the county highway department had sandbags, but they were closed. It’s not like we had a stockpile in the back of the garage.
Kristie, now up and frustrated as we all were at finding the water flowing into our basement, called a friend who worked in the city’s office. She suggested calling the police. They eventually got us some sandbags to pile in front of the door to keep the water at bay.
While all of this was going on, I was also attempting to get our sump pump working correctly. Of course, Gail, whose sump pump quite working on her a few months ago and she had to pay someone to replace it, suddenly became the expert on all things sump pump related.
“Did you check the base?” She inquired.
“What?”
“The base on my sump pump was bad.”
“The base is fine,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“Well, because I just spent the past five minutes scooping dirt and sand out of it!” I said.
“Well, how old is it?”
“I think the patent ran out in ’56, but I’ll be sure to check the next time I stick my head down in the hole again,” I said, thinking of what to do next.
“Well, you know . . . they are only good for about five years,” Gail added.
When did she become the Alex Trebek of sump pumps?
“I think ours has lasted a little longer than that,” I said, looking for a flashlight.
“Are you sure the base is okay?”
Alex, I’ll take “Most Annoying Things One Can Do In An Emergency” for a 1,000!
“Because, you know, the plate underneath the pump was bad on mine.”
You’re in luck Kurt, it’s a Daily Double!
“Are you sure . . .”
Great, Alex, I’ll wager my entire sanity!
I left Casey in charge of remedying the sump pump. It was working perfectly. The only problem was that it would not shut off. However, after scooping all of the silt and crap out of the bottom, it began to finally shut off on its own.
Kristie began shoveling snow away from the patio so some of the water at least could pool on the patio instead of being funneled directly at our back door.
Gail, who was really frustrated that no one was taking her advice, handed Kenzie to a bewildered Casey and declared, “I have to let the dog out!” Then she made a phone call – no doubt to one of Kristie’s brothers to complain how we were not taking her advice.
I headed to Hardware Hank in TRF to purchase a pump, extension cord, and hose, with Dad’s would-be instructions echoing in my mind.
Eventually, thanks mostly to Kristie’s fast thinking, we were able to avert disaster. The cops showed up with a dozen sand bags and stacked them in front of the door. Then while Kristie was shoveling, our neighbor came home and offered us the use of her pump.
When I returned with a second pump and 75 feet of hose, we were able to divert most of the water to the street. Dad would have been proud. And like Gail, he would have offered his fair share of advice!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Rent
A few years ago, Kristie and I took KoKo to see a production of Rent at the Ordway. It didn't feature many of the original cast members, but it was great.
A few months ago on DirecTV we noticed that the final Rent was showing. This - according to the film description - was the last performance of Rent on broadway filmed live and then released as a movie. While this last Broadway performance did not have many of the original cast members in their original roles, they did, however, have many of the original cast members come on stage and sing the final number, "Seasons of Love" with the current cast members.
After watching this video version of the musical, Kristie and Rene found that Rent was going to be in the cities again. This time at the Orpheum. With the original cast members! So much for it being the final performance of the play.
We jumped at the chance for tickets.
The very nexhttp://media.www.unogateway.com/media/storage/paper968/news/2004/10/12/ArtsLeisure/Tony-AwardWinning.Rent.Returns.To.Orpheum-2548421.shtml
Here is a clip from the 2005 big screen adaptation of the play.
Here is that final encore previously mentioned, replete with some of the original members.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
North of Boston
This work contains some of my favorite poems - Mending Wall, After Apple Picking, Death of the Hired Man, and Home Burial
North of Boston by Robert Frost
North of Boston by Robert Frost
teachertube
I never realized how handy youtube was. Thanks to zamzar I am able to convert video from youtube, email to myself, and then download it to my computer. From there I toss it into a keynote or imovie presentation for class.
Of course, that arduous process is due to the fact that youtube is blocked in our school district.
But teachertube isn't. I've also found several interesting videos to use. Check it out:http://www.teachertube.com/.
Here are a couple of interesting videos I found on there.
Technology Fear Factor in Education
Shifthappens
Of course, that arduous process is due to the fact that youtube is blocked in our school district.
But teachertube isn't. I've also found several interesting videos to use. Check it out:http://www.teachertube.com/.
Here are a couple of interesting videos I found on there.
Technology Fear Factor in Education
Shifthappens
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Disaster
Tricia and her daughters, Ashley and Faith, came over for a visit yesterday. We talked, played Apples to Apples and then cooked supper, lasagna. Unfortunately, there must have been something wrong with the ingredients because those of us who ate it, have been sick.
I barely made it to Hugo's last night to get groceries before my stomach seized up. When I made it home, I saw that Kristie wasn't doing much better.
When Kristie talked to Tricia, she said that they too were all sick.
While my spell just lasted a few minutes, Kristie suffered with it all night.
At about six a.m. she said that the toilet was not filling back up. Since our house is over 100 years old, problems like these tend to crop up all the time. Not having the foggiest notion of what to do, I googled it.
One suggestion was that if a commode is clogged, it could prevent the tank from refilling. However, Kristie also discovered that the water pressure was nonexistent.
I rushed to the basement to see if any pipes had broken. Fortunately, they had not.
There was modicum of water pressure in the basement, so I was able to fill up some containers and lug the water upstairs to try and fill the tank and unclog the toilet.
Finally, we were able to get it to flush, but the tank never refilled. In fact, the water pressure quickly disappeared throughout the entire house.
Fearing having to pay a plumber on a Sunday, I hit google again. But all the searches talked about such things as stoppers in toilets and so on. It was all Greek to me. Remember what I lamented some time ago about there never being an English teacher emergency?
I left messages with the plumbers and envisioned us having to melt snow to flush toilets and boil water for baths. Just like my grandparents likely had to do (well, they carried water in from a well).
Later our babysitter called. She informed us that they had no water pressure either. Apparently, a pipe had burst and the city was trying to get it all fixed.
What a relief.
Before we actually had to boil any water, the pressure returned. The pipe must have been found and fixed.
Two weeks ago our igniter in our furnace went out. This week no water. What will next week bring?
I barely made it to Hugo's last night to get groceries before my stomach seized up. When I made it home, I saw that Kristie wasn't doing much better.
When Kristie talked to Tricia, she said that they too were all sick.
While my spell just lasted a few minutes, Kristie suffered with it all night.
At about six a.m. she said that the toilet was not filling back up. Since our house is over 100 years old, problems like these tend to crop up all the time. Not having the foggiest notion of what to do, I googled it.
One suggestion was that if a commode is clogged, it could prevent the tank from refilling. However, Kristie also discovered that the water pressure was nonexistent.
I rushed to the basement to see if any pipes had broken. Fortunately, they had not.
There was modicum of water pressure in the basement, so I was able to fill up some containers and lug the water upstairs to try and fill the tank and unclog the toilet.
Finally, we were able to get it to flush, but the tank never refilled. In fact, the water pressure quickly disappeared throughout the entire house.
Fearing having to pay a plumber on a Sunday, I hit google again. But all the searches talked about such things as stoppers in toilets and so on. It was all Greek to me. Remember what I lamented some time ago about there never being an English teacher emergency?
I left messages with the plumbers and envisioned us having to melt snow to flush toilets and boil water for baths. Just like my grandparents likely had to do (well, they carried water in from a well).
Later our babysitter called. She informed us that they had no water pressure either. Apparently, a pipe had burst and the city was trying to get it all fixed.
What a relief.
Before we actually had to boil any water, the pressure returned. The pipe must have been found and fixed.
Two weeks ago our igniter in our furnace went out. This week no water. What will next week bring?
Oh boy . . . those were the days!!
Maybe the best Christmas present EVER.
Got this one for Christmas '84.
Got this one for Christmas '84.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
A perfect day.
A grown man should not be frightened by a child. But Kenzie terrifies me . . . at times. Well, most of the time lately.
When we brought her home, I was really terrified. Since Kristie was breastfeeding, obviously I couldn’t feed her. I couldn’t soothe her. All of those tasks fell to Kristie. Finally, when she was full and sleepy, I could rock her and she’d fall asleep on my chest. Those moments were bliss.
Then she began to grow and my terror lessened. I could make her laugh. We had fun with her baths. I started to feed her often. Life was grand.
Then lately she has become fussy again. She is switching to baby food. I make a God awful mess whenever I try to feed her. Then Kenzie gets frustrated and it gets ugly. Kristie, Gail, and Rene will hold her and talk to her and she will giggle and wiggle and smile. When I do it, she looks at me and sighs.
However, yesterday after school we turned a corner.
When I came in, Gail was holding her in the kitchen while Kristie was preparing supper. I was going to set my bag in the dining room. When Kenzie saw that I wasn’t going to say hi to her, she began to cry.
When I went over to her she actually reached her arms out for me! Then she giggled and wiggled in my arms.
Later, she sat on my lap for supper and I was able to feed her some of my food. She loved it and chowed down.
With a belly full, I took her up for her bath, which -as I said earlier – always goes well.
I brought her down and gave her a bottle and she fell asleep in my lap.
It just doesn’t get any better than that. I’ve been envious because Kristie gets that kind of treatment every day. Just wait until summer and I have time off. I’ve got it all planned out. Relaxing on the patio. Playing with the dogs. Biking and walking. Swimming at the pool. Napping on the front porch.
I’ll have it made.
When we brought her home, I was really terrified. Since Kristie was breastfeeding, obviously I couldn’t feed her. I couldn’t soothe her. All of those tasks fell to Kristie. Finally, when she was full and sleepy, I could rock her and she’d fall asleep on my chest. Those moments were bliss.
Then she began to grow and my terror lessened. I could make her laugh. We had fun with her baths. I started to feed her often. Life was grand.
Then lately she has become fussy again. She is switching to baby food. I make a God awful mess whenever I try to feed her. Then Kenzie gets frustrated and it gets ugly. Kristie, Gail, and Rene will hold her and talk to her and she will giggle and wiggle and smile. When I do it, she looks at me and sighs.
However, yesterday after school we turned a corner.
When I came in, Gail was holding her in the kitchen while Kristie was preparing supper. I was going to set my bag in the dining room. When Kenzie saw that I wasn’t going to say hi to her, she began to cry.
When I went over to her she actually reached her arms out for me! Then she giggled and wiggled in my arms.
Later, she sat on my lap for supper and I was able to feed her some of my food. She loved it and chowed down.
With a belly full, I took her up for her bath, which -as I said earlier – always goes well.
I brought her down and gave her a bottle and she fell asleep in my lap.
It just doesn’t get any better than that. I’ve been envious because Kristie gets that kind of treatment every day. Just wait until summer and I have time off. I’ve got it all planned out. Relaxing on the patio. Playing with the dogs. Biking and walking. Swimming at the pool. Napping on the front porch.
I’ll have it made.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Scribd
Thanks to Nancy Devine's blog, I've discovered Scribd. Here is one of my all time favorite short stories, "Hunters in the Snow," by the one and only Tobias Wolff. It turns American Romanticism on its head. And it would be a great laugh if it wasn't so damn tragic. What American Beauty did for the suberbs, "Hunters in the Snow" does for rural America.
Action & Adventure - Hunters in the Snow - Tobias Wolff
Action & Adventure - Hunters in the Snow - Tobias Wolff
How easy it is to cheat. I was googling multi-genre essays when I came across this site.
http://www.standoutessay.com/blog/2008/10/29/proven-tips-for-writing-multi-genre-essays/
http://www.standoutessay.com/blog/2008/10/29/proven-tips-for-writing-multi-genre-essays/
Awesome
What a moment in my fourth block Lit and Language 11 class! I have a group of about 8 students who talk all the damn time. It’s not rude, just gabbing. They do their work; they just talk all the time.
I had been asking them to keep it to a minimum. Since I have kids split between my room and the computer lab, I am in and out, checking on both sections.
When I came in, they were gabbing again. I was about to tell them to shut up when another student on the other side of the room, who was trying to read, said, “Hey, didn’t you guys here him earlier. Shut up!”
“Yes,” I said and smiled.
And they did shut up. Finally.
I had been asking them to keep it to a minimum. Since I have kids split between my room and the computer lab, I am in and out, checking on both sections.
When I came in, they were gabbing again. I was about to tell them to shut up when another student on the other side of the room, who was trying to read, said, “Hey, didn’t you guys here him earlier. Shut up!”
“Yes,” I said and smiled.
And they did shut up. Finally.
How to Improve High School Education
Here are some pieces of essays I had my College Comp I students write about being engaged in school.
"I enjoyed it so much that I forgot about the huge post-lab exam. I did fine; it didn’t matter."
"Then when it came to actually writing the project, it seemed like hardly work at all."
"I got to express myself through paintings and shapes. My assignments seemed more like a time in my day to let my tension go. The cold clay formed around my fingers, and my emotions would flow down my arm to shape or paint what couldn’t be said. When the class was over, I dreaded having to do homework for another class, wishing they would be as fun as art."
"The best part was probably the interviews. It was fascinating to be able to hear firsthand what ti is like to be a physical therapist. We were just supposed to ask 25 questions for the report, but I probably asked over a hundred. It was one of the few reports that I can honestly say I enjoyed every part of from front to back."
How often does learning like this take place in schools? Not nearly enough. And that’s the problem with secondary education in America.
"I enjoyed it so much that I forgot about the huge post-lab exam. I did fine; it didn’t matter."
"Then when it came to actually writing the project, it seemed like hardly work at all."
"I got to express myself through paintings and shapes. My assignments seemed more like a time in my day to let my tension go. The cold clay formed around my fingers, and my emotions would flow down my arm to shape or paint what couldn’t be said. When the class was over, I dreaded having to do homework for another class, wishing they would be as fun as art."
"The best part was probably the interviews. It was fascinating to be able to hear firsthand what ti is like to be a physical therapist. We were just supposed to ask 25 questions for the report, but I probably asked over a hundred. It was one of the few reports that I can honestly say I enjoyed every part of from front to back."
How often does learning like this take place in schools? Not nearly enough. And that’s the problem with secondary education in America.
Fact is stranger than fiction?
Last semester when my juniors read “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson, many thought something so outlandish could never happen.
When they had stated their disbelief, I shared an essay written by Jackson entitled “On the Morning of June 28, 1948, and ‘The Lottery.’” The essay is about how she wrote the story and the thousands of letters she had received since the story notorious publication in The New Yorker. Here is the final paragraph from Jackson’s essay –
“Curiously, there are three main themes which dominate the letters of that first summer—three themes which might be identified as bewilderment, speculation, and plain old-fashioned abuse. In the years since then, during which the story has been anthologized, dramatized, televised, and even—in one completely mystifying transformation—made into a ballet, the tenor of letters I receive has changed. I am addressed more politely, as a rule, and the letters largely confine themselves to questions like what does this story mean? The general tone of the early letters, however, was a kind of wide-eyed, shocked innocence. People at first were not so much concerned with what the story meant; what they wanted to know was where these lotteries were held, and whether they could go there and watch.”
The reactions on their faces is priceless.
“Well, there is no way something like that would ever happen today,” a student said.
“Yeah, so other people would like to go and watch,” one student said. “But this wouldn’t happen and why didn’t anyone in the town stop the lottery?”
“Yeah. Someone would have stopped it,” another added.
“There’s no way this could happen today,” others state.
“Oh, really?” I challenged. I recalled how many of my seniors thought the same thing when reading Night .
“Yeah. Nothing like that could happen today,” the first student reiterated.
That is an eternal question.
That’s when I shared with them this story that I came across, ironically, the morning after we finished the story.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26638199/
Note the byline –
Police arrest man in Pa. subway hammer attack
At least 10 other riders witnessed the attack yet no one tried to stop it
Fast forward to second semester, ’09.
We are midway through our American Gothic unit, featuring Edgar Allan Poe’s macabre work.
Students just read “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Cask of Amontillado,” and “The Black Cat.”
Again, I hear the same responses –
“This could never happen.”
“Why would a person do such things?”
“Why would someone write about such things?”
Oh don’t worry, I have a large faction who are fascinated with Poe and who have thoroughly devoured their way through King’s works and the Twilight books and a host of others as well.
But I chuckle at the naivete of some,
Today, after looking at the reasons for the narrators cruelty in “The Black Cat,” I shared with the class this story, which occurred yesterday.
http://www.reuters.com/article/domesticNews/idUSTRE52A01D20090312
How can we account for such horrific things in our world? What would drive someone to go on such a rampage, even killing an 18 month old child?
This, to me, seems to be the real reason for studying Poe’s work. Can it be blamed on nature or nurture? In “The Black Cat” is the narrator driven to torture, maim, and kill poor Pluto and later his wife because of his alcoholism? Is he mad (as so many of Poe’s other narrators are)? Or is it something even more sinister? Recall what the narrator confesses, “. . . perverseness is one o the primitive impulses of the human heart – one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a stupid action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not?”
Maybe it’s easier to blame such evil on mental deficiencies, alcoholism, drug abuse, child abuse, bullying, and so on. But what happens when there really is no reason for evil? What happens when someone commits an act of evil because they like it or want to?
I think of what a friend of ours told us about two prominent athletes from my home town who caught a cat, took it to the lake, canoed out to the middle, and took the poor caged animal, doused it with gasoline, and lit it on fire. Then they filmed it with their phones while it burned.
What accounts for such cruelty? Where will such an action lead? Beating one’s wife or children? A school shooting? A bloody rampage like the one in Alabama?
Like Poe, I have no real explanation.
Other than it is a horrifically dark part of the human condition.
Recall, the Carthaginians reportedly sacrificed scores of children to their god, Baal. The Romans persecuted the Christians and fed them to lions. The Christians conducted the Inquisition and aided the Crusades. When the New World was discovered, so were an entire array of atrocities. The Mayan sacrifices/ Columbus’ “gold dust rituals.” The U.S. Army giving Native American women and children small-pox infected blankets. The natives, in return, scalping innocent settlers. America’s involvement in WWI led to the discovery of the horrors of Nazi Germany and death camps. Later the atomic bomb. The religious atrocities of the Middle East. Darfur. And on and on and on.
Like Poe, I have no real explanation. But the questions will always be there.
When they had stated their disbelief, I shared an essay written by Jackson entitled “On the Morning of June 28, 1948, and ‘The Lottery.’” The essay is about how she wrote the story and the thousands of letters she had received since the story notorious publication in The New Yorker. Here is the final paragraph from Jackson’s essay –
“Curiously, there are three main themes which dominate the letters of that first summer—three themes which might be identified as bewilderment, speculation, and plain old-fashioned abuse. In the years since then, during which the story has been anthologized, dramatized, televised, and even—in one completely mystifying transformation—made into a ballet, the tenor of letters I receive has changed. I am addressed more politely, as a rule, and the letters largely confine themselves to questions like what does this story mean? The general tone of the early letters, however, was a kind of wide-eyed, shocked innocence. People at first were not so much concerned with what the story meant; what they wanted to know was where these lotteries were held, and whether they could go there and watch.”
The reactions on their faces is priceless.
“Well, there is no way something like that would ever happen today,” a student said.
“Yeah, so other people would like to go and watch,” one student said. “But this wouldn’t happen and why didn’t anyone in the town stop the lottery?”
“Yeah. Someone would have stopped it,” another added.
“There’s no way this could happen today,” others state.
“Oh, really?” I challenged. I recalled how many of my seniors thought the same thing when reading Night .
“Yeah. Nothing like that could happen today,” the first student reiterated.
That is an eternal question.
That’s when I shared with them this story that I came across, ironically, the morning after we finished the story.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26638199/
Note the byline –
Police arrest man in Pa. subway hammer attack
At least 10 other riders witnessed the attack yet no one tried to stop it
Fast forward to second semester, ’09.
We are midway through our American Gothic unit, featuring Edgar Allan Poe’s macabre work.
Students just read “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Cask of Amontillado,” and “The Black Cat.”
Again, I hear the same responses –
“This could never happen.”
“Why would a person do such things?”
“Why would someone write about such things?”
Oh don’t worry, I have a large faction who are fascinated with Poe and who have thoroughly devoured their way through King’s works and the Twilight books and a host of others as well.
But I chuckle at the naivete of some,
Today, after looking at the reasons for the narrators cruelty in “The Black Cat,” I shared with the class this story, which occurred yesterday.
http://www.reuters.com/article/domesticNews/idUSTRE52A01D20090312
How can we account for such horrific things in our world? What would drive someone to go on such a rampage, even killing an 18 month old child?
This, to me, seems to be the real reason for studying Poe’s work. Can it be blamed on nature or nurture? In “The Black Cat” is the narrator driven to torture, maim, and kill poor Pluto and later his wife because of his alcoholism? Is he mad (as so many of Poe’s other narrators are)? Or is it something even more sinister? Recall what the narrator confesses, “. . . perverseness is one o the primitive impulses of the human heart – one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a stupid action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not?”
Maybe it’s easier to blame such evil on mental deficiencies, alcoholism, drug abuse, child abuse, bullying, and so on. But what happens when there really is no reason for evil? What happens when someone commits an act of evil because they like it or want to?
I think of what a friend of ours told us about two prominent athletes from my home town who caught a cat, took it to the lake, canoed out to the middle, and took the poor caged animal, doused it with gasoline, and lit it on fire. Then they filmed it with their phones while it burned.
What accounts for such cruelty? Where will such an action lead? Beating one’s wife or children? A school shooting? A bloody rampage like the one in Alabama?
Like Poe, I have no real explanation.
Other than it is a horrifically dark part of the human condition.
Recall, the Carthaginians reportedly sacrificed scores of children to their god, Baal. The Romans persecuted the Christians and fed them to lions. The Christians conducted the Inquisition and aided the Crusades. When the New World was discovered, so were an entire array of atrocities. The Mayan sacrifices/ Columbus’ “gold dust rituals.” The U.S. Army giving Native American women and children small-pox infected blankets. The natives, in return, scalping innocent settlers. America’s involvement in WWI led to the discovery of the horrors of Nazi Germany and death camps. Later the atomic bomb. The religious atrocities of the Middle East. Darfur. And on and on and on.
Like Poe, I have no real explanation. But the questions will always be there.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Thoughts from Friday
Thoughts running through my head on the first Friday in March –
Why didn’t some hockey players – even though they lost – not make it to school? I have a suspicion that might be one reason they rarely make it to state. Nothing else matters. Yeah, right.
Why are freshman, well, some freshman, so foolish? They act like a bunch of fools during first lunch up here while I’m trying to conduct class. Screaming, swearing, bouncing into lockers, slamming lockers, and just plain stupidity. And you want to talk about trash. I thought about taking some pictures to document their slovenly ways. No cleaner should have to pick up after them.
Maybe there is some truth to what a former principal said, they start to become more human after Christmas break. Well, maybe we’ll aim for spring break instead.
Yesterday, I saw a student wearing the first pair of shorts of the year. It’s funny too because I just had a college comp II student write an essay on how Minnesotans go nuts from all that bleak winter weather and when the weather is even marginally nice, we go nuts and put on shorts and go without a jacket when, if that weather occurred in July, we’d all be bundled up.
These College Comp kids are voracious. I hand back their themes and dismiss the class, yet many stand at their desks reading their essays and my comments. All the time put into them (both on my part and theirs) pays off.
Why didn’t some hockey players – even though they lost – not make it to school? I have a suspicion that might be one reason they rarely make it to state. Nothing else matters. Yeah, right.
Why are freshman, well, some freshman, so foolish? They act like a bunch of fools during first lunch up here while I’m trying to conduct class. Screaming, swearing, bouncing into lockers, slamming lockers, and just plain stupidity. And you want to talk about trash. I thought about taking some pictures to document their slovenly ways. No cleaner should have to pick up after them.
Maybe there is some truth to what a former principal said, they start to become more human after Christmas break. Well, maybe we’ll aim for spring break instead.
Yesterday, I saw a student wearing the first pair of shorts of the year. It’s funny too because I just had a college comp II student write an essay on how Minnesotans go nuts from all that bleak winter weather and when the weather is even marginally nice, we go nuts and put on shorts and go without a jacket when, if that weather occurred in July, we’d all be bundled up.
These College Comp kids are voracious. I hand back their themes and dismiss the class, yet many stand at their desks reading their essays and my comments. All the time put into them (both on my part and theirs) pays off.
College Comp
We began our fourth theme this week. It is a how to essay. Or rather a series of how to essays. The first deals with how to improve education. We read a Time article about how to get schools out of the 20th century. Then we read the preface to "Doing School" by Denise Clark Pope. One question she posed an audience at Stanford two years ago when she discussed her book was "think of a time you were engaged and excited for an assignment in school."
I posed this to my class. Here are a few snippets from their responses that I found interesting.
"I enjoyed it [the project] so much that I forgot about the huge post-lab exam. I did fine; it didn’t matter."
"Then when it came to actually writing the project, it seemed like hardly work at all."
"I got to express myself through paintings and shapes. My assignments seemed more like a time in my day to let my tension go. The cold clay formed around my fingers, and my emotions would flow down my arm to shape or paint what couldn’t be said. When the class was over, I dreaded having to do homework for another class, wishing they would be as fun as art."
"The best part was probably the interviews [for a career project]. It was fascinating to be able to hear firsthand what ti is like to be a physical therapist. We were just supposed to ask 25 questions for the report, but I probably asked over a hundred. It was one of the few reports that I can honestly say I enjoyed every part of from front to back."
How often does learning like this take place in schools? Not nearly enough.
And the great thing about those learning experiences. How many can be judged by a standardized test?
The lack of experiences like these are the problem with secondary education in America. This should happen in every class. Yet, how often are students subjected to busy work, learning facts as opposed to processes and strategies, or simply suffering through a class taught by a teacher who either doesn't like kids or is marching their way toward retirement?
I posed this to my class. Here are a few snippets from their responses that I found interesting.
"I enjoyed it [the project] so much that I forgot about the huge post-lab exam. I did fine; it didn’t matter."
"Then when it came to actually writing the project, it seemed like hardly work at all."
"I got to express myself through paintings and shapes. My assignments seemed more like a time in my day to let my tension go. The cold clay formed around my fingers, and my emotions would flow down my arm to shape or paint what couldn’t be said. When the class was over, I dreaded having to do homework for another class, wishing they would be as fun as art."
"The best part was probably the interviews [for a career project]. It was fascinating to be able to hear firsthand what ti is like to be a physical therapist. We were just supposed to ask 25 questions for the report, but I probably asked over a hundred. It was one of the few reports that I can honestly say I enjoyed every part of from front to back."
How often does learning like this take place in schools? Not nearly enough.
And the great thing about those learning experiences. How many can be judged by a standardized test?
The lack of experiences like these are the problem with secondary education in America. This should happen in every class. Yet, how often are students subjected to busy work, learning facts as opposed to processes and strategies, or simply suffering through a class taught by a teacher who either doesn't like kids or is marching their way toward retirement?
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Hilarious
Barb sent me this the other day. Kenzie and I watched Saturday morning. I laughed until I almost cried. Kenzie even laughed. It's that funny. It takes awhile to get going. Just keep your eye - or ears rather - on the guy seated in the middle.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)