So, in what situation would I consider myself tougher, grittier, and more battle-tested than a stout, 27 year-old high school wrestling coach (and former state champion wrestler) who appears in excellent shape?
Why, when negotiating the world of women, naturally (Wyfe would totally agree, I'm confident). You see, this young fellow and I were the only two men in the Writing Project class this summer, surrounded and outnumbered by a ratio of 7-1. The women ranged in age from mid-20's to mid-60's, and they really were a fun group to work with. However, you know in a situation where over the course of three weeks everyone was asked to write and share childhood memories and personal narratives what was probably coming; you also know that when it's time to say goodbye and head off in different directions after bonding for three weeks that emotions will be outporing.
One activity we had to complete was to "spy" on someone over the course of the three weeks, careful not to reveal who they were, and then produce an appreciative piece of writing (I wrote a light-hearted sonnet, for instance) about them based on what we learned and observed. The last thing we did on Friday was share these and reveal who we were "spying" on. My man-creeps almost got the better of me when we were told to form ourselves into a "sharing circle" for the occasion, but I managed not to complain. Then the festivities began and, oh my, did the tears flow. After only the second presentation the lady sitting to my right spontaneously burst into sobs, and I actually wanted to turn and admonish her with a stern, "Oh, stop it!" Instead, I accepted my place in the universal order and fulfilled my given duty by sighing heavily, and then walking across the room and getting the Kleenex box for her. From then on I amused myself (and others) by being irascible tissue guy, walking the box around wherever it was needed. As for my poor young compadre, who is not married or dating seriously, he seemed shell-shocked, a wrestling coach out of water. Just follow my lead, kid - I'll see you through this.
I did suggest, for the sake of next year's two or three beleaguered male participants, that they at least relocate the "sharing circle" to a sports bar.
30 July 2008
29 July 2008
Digging Out
Well, the Writing Project summer institute is over, and I feel like I just went through another school year all within the span of three weeks. Seriously - as we reached the end of the line last week, I had that same vibe I get when we enter the last week of the school year: satisfaction, relief, and fatigue all at once. Now I've got three weeks to recover, and organize the tremendous amount of information I received at the institute, before I report to duty. Well, realistically, let's make that a week to recover and organize, and then two weeks to get ready before reporting to duty.
After persevering through it all, though, I can now proudly call myself a Fellow of the National Writing Project.
So, was it all worth it, and what was a typical day like at the institute? Here is my attempt at digestable answers to those burning questions, with a couple of follow-up posts coming soon:
Was it worth it? Absolutely. On a purely selfish level, I was able to work on my own writing, receive great feedback on it from others, and get encouragement to write more for potential publication. We'll see where all that goes, but it's nice to have the enthusiasm. On a professional level, the institute provided a high level of useful training and knowledge, which anyone who has to attend professional development of any kind can appreciate. Not every minute or every presentation was completely outstanding, but most of what we did was at least useful, and at most convinced me to make life-altering changes in the classroom. In addition, there was a tremendous sense of community built up between all of the participants, and I can now count several new, genuine friendships as a result. More on both of these latter points soon.
What was a typical day like? Well, first it was nice that our instructors and fellow participants were all fairly laid back, but not frivolous with time. Most mornings started with a short writing activity or idea, and then the days were filled with a combination of the following: presentations by participants, writing peer group meetings for feedback/criticism on our own work, demonstrations of writing activities, short lectures on academic research about writing, reading our work aloud, developing lesson plans or writing assignments for our students, and learning all about Web 2.0 (I hate that pretentious phrase) and what it might offer writing teachers (wikis, class blogs, class eZines, digital storytelling, Delicious, aggregators, etc.). Most of the web stuff was new to me, and I can't say I'll use much of it, but will use some.
Yes, we had homework, too, which is a real pain in the ass when you also have to get your child to and from evening swim lessons, and do stuff like, you know, eat. But it was mostly writing, and I'm fairly pleased with the final products. Without the deadlines, I would never have written as much as I did.
In the next couple of posts I'll go into some detail on a few of the things I've learned, what I've decided to change in the classroom, and how much crying I had to put up with (you can guess, I'm sure).
After persevering through it all, though, I can now proudly call myself a Fellow of the National Writing Project.
So, was it all worth it, and what was a typical day like at the institute? Here is my attempt at digestable answers to those burning questions, with a couple of follow-up posts coming soon:
Was it worth it? Absolutely. On a purely selfish level, I was able to work on my own writing, receive great feedback on it from others, and get encouragement to write more for potential publication. We'll see where all that goes, but it's nice to have the enthusiasm. On a professional level, the institute provided a high level of useful training and knowledge, which anyone who has to attend professional development of any kind can appreciate. Not every minute or every presentation was completely outstanding, but most of what we did was at least useful, and at most convinced me to make life-altering changes in the classroom. In addition, there was a tremendous sense of community built up between all of the participants, and I can now count several new, genuine friendships as a result. More on both of these latter points soon.
What was a typical day like? Well, first it was nice that our instructors and fellow participants were all fairly laid back, but not frivolous with time. Most mornings started with a short writing activity or idea, and then the days were filled with a combination of the following: presentations by participants, writing peer group meetings for feedback/criticism on our own work, demonstrations of writing activities, short lectures on academic research about writing, reading our work aloud, developing lesson plans or writing assignments for our students, and learning all about Web 2.0 (I hate that pretentious phrase) and what it might offer writing teachers (wikis, class blogs, class eZines, digital storytelling, Delicious, aggregators, etc.). Most of the web stuff was new to me, and I can't say I'll use much of it, but will use some.
Yes, we had homework, too, which is a real pain in the ass when you also have to get your child to and from evening swim lessons, and do stuff like, you know, eat. But it was mostly writing, and I'm fairly pleased with the final products. Without the deadlines, I would never have written as much as I did.
In the next couple of posts I'll go into some detail on a few of the things I've learned, what I've decided to change in the classroom, and how much crying I had to put up with (you can guess, I'm sure).
21 July 2008
Days 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8....
AAAGGGGHHHH!!!
Sorry folks - I'm out of commission until this darned thing is over with (Friday, Thank God!). Be back with you then and can let you know of my writing adventures. Take care!
Sorry folks - I'm out of commission until this darned thing is over with (Friday, Thank God!). Be back with you then and can let you know of my writing adventures. Take care!
08 July 2008
The Writer's Project - Day 1
I won't have time to go into extensive detail (besides, I'm already tired of writing, which doesn't bode well), but each day I'll try to give you some highlights. From today:
* Someone in my peer group (a sweet soul, really) cried when she read her draft of a childhood memory, which involved the death of her dog. Awkward? You know, not really. After all this time (see multiple previous posts of mine over the last couple of years about working with women and yearbook girls),I've come to expect it.
* I wrote about the shameful time a friend and I threw mudballs into our neighbor's kitchen, and put his sister's bra in a glass of tea, while he and his family were visiting relatives on a Sunday afternoon. Hey, I was less than 10 years old, and my neighbor was bullying us, if you're looking for mitigating circumstances.
* No one has made themselves annoying so far by trying to dominate all proceedings, but there is at least one candidate showing potential.
* Our "gathering time" (i.e., time to show up for class) is listed as 8-9. That is what I call a laid-back approach.
* My hand still cramps up after writing for a long time, just like in the old days before these keyboard thingies.
*The lady I'm going to do a presentation with in a couple of weeks is very unsure of herself. Not sure how that will play out.
*Writing is actually, like, fun sometimes. Who knew?
* Someone in my peer group (a sweet soul, really) cried when she read her draft of a childhood memory, which involved the death of her dog. Awkward? You know, not really. After all this time (see multiple previous posts of mine over the last couple of years about working with women and yearbook girls),I've come to expect it.
* I wrote about the shameful time a friend and I threw mudballs into our neighbor's kitchen, and put his sister's bra in a glass of tea, while he and his family were visiting relatives on a Sunday afternoon. Hey, I was less than 10 years old, and my neighbor was bullying us, if you're looking for mitigating circumstances.
* No one has made themselves annoying so far by trying to dominate all proceedings, but there is at least one candidate showing potential.
* Our "gathering time" (i.e., time to show up for class) is listed as 8-9. That is what I call a laid-back approach.
* My hand still cramps up after writing for a long time, just like in the old days before these keyboard thingies.
*The lady I'm going to do a presentation with in a couple of weeks is very unsure of herself. Not sure how that will play out.
*Writing is actually, like, fun sometimes. Who knew?
01 July 2008
Murray's "Educational Romanticism"
I'm way behind on this (for all I know it's been making internet rounds for weeks), but back in May The New Criterion published an issue dedicated solely to education. While most of the articles involved the sad decline of the humanities in our colleges and universities, there was one lively article on K-12 public schools, entitled "The Age of Educational Romanticism" (sorry, it's a subscriber only article), from none other than Charles Murray. Frankly, I don't know enough about Murray's past arguments (The Bell Curve, et. al.) to comment on them in-depth, though if no less a personage than Shelby Steele has some criticisms, I'm willing to believe that Murray has at least not careful enough in stating his case from time to time. I'm not for genetic essentialism (though I am for recognizing reality, and I've yet to be able to run the 100m dash in under ten seconds!), and in my experience neither race nor sex factors in to who is highly intellectual and who isn't.
However, I've seen Murray interviewed often enough to say I agree with one of his basic premises, which is that our country's education establishment puts too much effort into trying to make everyone a college-bound academic all-star when we know full well only a certain percentage of the population has the ability and/or desire to be that. I would never say this means we shouldn't do our best with all the students we teach, or that those who aren't academic all-stars can't learn at all. But no public school teacher will honestly tell you all his or her kids, no matter their learning styles, will learn equally well.
In this latest article, Murray declares that both those on the left and the right are guilty of a romanticism that is out of touch with educational realities:
Murray points out that while those factors may affect attitude or application, study after study shows that one's intellectual ability is more or less fixed in place before a child even enters school, regardless of race, sex, or background. He says no programs or strategies make much of a dent in this circumstance:
Now, Murray points out that a really, really bad and violent school - or a really, really bad home life - might end up affecting these scores, but that in even a below-average school with below-average funding (like my former school), the intelligent child will almost always show the same aptitude throughout his or her school years. He or she may get lazy, or may get in trouble, and may fail classes left and right, but the innate intellectual ability does not change:
The problem, as Murray sees it, is that we squander billions of dollars in efforts to make all kids highly intelligent, though this is something nature alone has control of. When they still aren't all highly intelligent after our money and efforts, we in the education business dishonor the less intellectual by deciding that, by God, we've just got to make them like we are (or like we think we are)!. The rationale behind the No Child Left Behind Act (which, Murray points out, "a Republican president of the United States, surrounded by approving legislators from both parties [emphasis mine, b/c Bush always gets all the blame in education circles], signed into law") is that if we just re-double our efforts and make our schools tow the line a little more, all children will suddenly have that high IQ that Antoine and Susie have. So, we pay particular attention these days to the lowest performing students, thinking if they just get even more time and attention and scrutiny, they will be Antoine and Susie. But they aren't, and though they might now score a little higher than they would without this attention, they are not on their way to Harvard. AND, guess what? There's nothing wrong with that.
But wait, people say, what about the good old days when students performed at so much higher levels, and could grasp so much more academic material?:
Again, I would never say we shouldn't be teaching 99% of the population - everyone can learn and improve to some degree - but I must say his point rings true in my exerience.
If, in the past, lower performing students were totally ignored, that was wrong; but then again, principals shouldn't hire teachers who ignore whole blocks of students - that's not our job description. On the other hand, how can we draw a realistic line when it comes to the allocation of our resources, maintain realistic goals, and also do justice to our smartest kids?
However, I've seen Murray interviewed often enough to say I agree with one of his basic premises, which is that our country's education establishment puts too much effort into trying to make everyone a college-bound academic all-star when we know full well only a certain percentage of the population has the ability and/or desire to be that. I would never say this means we shouldn't do our best with all the students we teach, or that those who aren't academic all-stars can't learn at all. But no public school teacher will honestly tell you all his or her kids, no matter their learning styles, will learn equally well.
In this latest article, Murray declares that both those on the left and the right are guilty of a romanticism that is out of touch with educational realities:
In public discourse, the leading symptom of educational romanticism is silence on the role of intellectual limits even when the topic screams for their discussion. Try to think of the last time you encountered a news story that mentioned low intellectual ability as the reason why some students do not perform at grade level. I doubt if you can. Whether analyzed by the news media, school superintendents, or politicians, the problems facing low-performing students are always that they have come from disadvantaged backgrounds, or have gone to bad schools, or grown up in peer cultures that do not value educational achievement. The problem is never that they just aren’t smart enough.
Murray points out that while those factors may affect attitude or application, study after study shows that one's intellectual ability is more or less fixed in place before a child even enters school, regardless of race, sex, or background. He says no programs or strategies make much of a dent in this circumstance:
...There are no examples of intensive in-school programs that permanently raise intellectual ability during the K-12 years (minor and temporary practice effects are the most that have been demonstrated). No one disputes the empirical predictiveness of tests of intellectual ability—IQ tests—for large groups...
...If a classroom of first-graders is given a full-scale IQ test that requires no literacy and no mathematics, the correlation of those scores with scores on reading and math tests at age seventeen is going to be high. Such correlations will be equally high whether the class consists of rich children or poor, black or white, male or female. They will be high no matter how hard the teachers have worked. Scores on tests of reading and math track with intellectual ability, no matter what.
Now, Murray points out that a really, really bad and violent school - or a really, really bad home life - might end up affecting these scores, but that in even a below-average school with below-average funding (like my former school), the intelligent child will almost always show the same aptitude throughout his or her school years. He or she may get lazy, or may get in trouble, and may fail classes left and right, but the innate intellectual ability does not change:
The normally bad school maintains a reasonably orderly learning environment and offers a standard range of courses taught with standard textbooks. Most of the teachers aren’t terrible; they’re just mediocre. Those raw materials give students most of the education they are going to absorb regardless of where they go to school. Excellent schools with excellent teachers will augment their learning, and are a better experience for children in many other ways as well. But an excellent school’s effects on mean test scores for the student body as a whole will not be dramatic. Readers who attended normally bad K-12 schools and then went to selective colleges are likely to understand why: Your classmates who had gone to Phillips Exeter had taken much better courses than your school offered, and you may have envied their good luck, but you had read a lot on your own, you weren’t that far behind, and you caught up quickly.
The problem, as Murray sees it, is that we squander billions of dollars in efforts to make all kids highly intelligent, though this is something nature alone has control of. When they still aren't all highly intelligent after our money and efforts, we in the education business dishonor the less intellectual by deciding that, by God, we've just got to make them like we are (or like we think we are)!. The rationale behind the No Child Left Behind Act (which, Murray points out, "a Republican president of the United States, surrounded by approving legislators from both parties [emphasis mine, b/c Bush always gets all the blame in education circles], signed into law") is that if we just re-double our efforts and make our schools tow the line a little more, all children will suddenly have that high IQ that Antoine and Susie have. So, we pay particular attention these days to the lowest performing students, thinking if they just get even more time and attention and scrutiny, they will be Antoine and Susie. But they aren't, and though they might now score a little higher than they would without this attention, they are not on their way to Harvard. AND, guess what? There's nothing wrong with that.
But wait, people say, what about the good old days when students performed at so much higher levels, and could grasp so much more academic material?:
Wrong. American schools have never been able to teach everyone how to read, write, and do arithmetic. The myth that they could has arisen because schools a hundred years ago did not have to educate the least able. When the twentieth century began, about a quarter of all adults had not reached fifth grade and half had not reached eighth grade. The relationship between school dropout and intellectual ability was not perfect, but it was strong. Today’s elementary and middle schools are dealing with 99 percent of all children in the eligible age groups. Let today’s schools not report the test results for the children that schools in 1900 did not have to teach, and NAEP scores would go through the roof.
Again, I would never say we shouldn't be teaching 99% of the population - everyone can learn and improve to some degree - but I must say his point rings true in my exerience.
If, in the past, lower performing students were totally ignored, that was wrong; but then again, principals shouldn't hire teachers who ignore whole blocks of students - that's not our job description. On the other hand, how can we draw a realistic line when it comes to the allocation of our resources, maintain realistic goals, and also do justice to our smartest kids?
26 June 2008
Top 12 Things Actually Overheard On the Yearbook Camp Trip to the Beach
Here's a fun game. See if you can guess which of these was said by students, by Wyfe, by the Boy, and by me. Fortunately, none of them were spoken by a policeman or a hotel authority.
(By the way, here's more can't miss reading on this epic foray to Atlantic Beach, NC from Wyfe herself ).
Anyway, on to the list:
12. She couldn't find her survey form because it was under her pile of dirty bras and t-shirts.
11. If you actually try to dine-and-dash, I'll hunt you down, kill you with a blunt instrument, and bury you in a shallow grave.
10. Look, this one's not my fault; the freakin' Google Map directions say "TURN RIGHT". See that - "TURN RIGHT!"
9. Really? You're from Korea? So do you speak, like, Korean?
8. Last I saw, she was sprawled out on the floor in the hallway talking on her iPhone.
7. Mr. P, will you figure out who's room you can move me into? I'm not comfortable being in there with those two girls; they're in that cheerleader clique.
6. Are you o.k., Mr. P.? I've never seen you look so tired.
5. OHMYGOD! MY NAME'S ALSO JESSIE, AND I ALSO HAVE A SISTER NAMED BRITTANY! OHMYGOD!
4. NO! I don't want any teenagers to sit in the back seat with me! They might have on their bikinis and stuff! Yuck!
3. But they told me on the phone their average meal price was $12.00.
2. Well, I haven't actually asked my mom if that's o.k., but I know she would say "yes".
And... (drumroll, please)
1. Mr. P., why do you have such a scowl on your face?
(By the way, here's more can't miss reading on this epic foray to Atlantic Beach, NC from Wyfe herself ).
Anyway, on to the list:
12. She couldn't find her survey form because it was under her pile of dirty bras and t-shirts.
11. If you actually try to dine-and-dash, I'll hunt you down, kill you with a blunt instrument, and bury you in a shallow grave.
10. Look, this one's not my fault; the freakin' Google Map directions say "TURN RIGHT". See that - "TURN RIGHT!"
9. Really? You're from Korea? So do you speak, like, Korean?
8. Last I saw, she was sprawled out on the floor in the hallway talking on her iPhone.
7. Mr. P, will you figure out who's room you can move me into? I'm not comfortable being in there with those two girls; they're in that cheerleader clique.
6. Are you o.k., Mr. P.? I've never seen you look so tired.
5. OHMYGOD! MY NAME'S ALSO JESSIE, AND I ALSO HAVE A SISTER NAMED BRITTANY! OHMYGOD!
4. NO! I don't want any teenagers to sit in the back seat with me! They might have on their bikinis and stuff! Yuck!
3. But they told me on the phone their average meal price was $12.00.
2. Well, I haven't actually asked my mom if that's o.k., but I know she would say "yes".
And... (drumroll, please)
1. Mr. P., why do you have such a scowl on your face?
22 June 2008
Off Again
This time it's the yearbook workshop trip to the beach for two days. Among our merry band will be Wyfe and child, 14 teenagers, and a couple of other adult chaperones (thankfully). Should prove to be fodder, I hope, for some amusing tales, and nothing more than that (he prays!). Talk at you when we return.
20 June 2008
The Boston Marathon, Vacation Style
Well, at least we felt like we'd run the marathon by the time we got home Tuesday morning.
Yes, that's the Tuesday morning following the Monday night we were supposed to return. That night we boarded our plane only to be promptly informed that due to east coast storms we were to be delayed at least an hour. After that hour passed, we heard some relatively optimistic mumblings from the captain, and began rolling down the runway. Eventually we were in the on-deck circle, when we were informed that a storm was right over Boston, and that if we couldn't take off within the next 20 minutes we would have to return to the gate because the first officer's mandatory quittin' time (FAA rules) was upon us. So, we returned to the airport, while Wyfe and I tried to console our sobbing six year-old, and after another hour or so we were informed that more storms had popped up, and the flight was canceled. After about 6 hours of sleep in the hotel they put us up at, we were back on board early the following morning, and I'm happy to say made it back fine. But patience, individual and collective, was sorely tried.
The time in Boston itself was much fun - we just missed out on the basketball celebration, which was probably fortuitous, though I sort of wanted to see the pandemonium from the safety of our hotel room. Speaking of the hotel, we were right on the harbor, across the street from Quincy Market, and adjacent to North End, with it's 90 Italian restaurants. In other words, a great location, which explains the cost (we were only paying one night's worth out of our pockets, since this was a work-related trip for Wyfe). The aforementioned six year-old adjusted quite nicely, and was content to do a lot of walking and exploring, though we threw a horse ride, an aquarium visit, and a children's museum foray into the mix.
Back to the North End for a minute. I'm an absolute nut for Italian food (any region, frankly), so we ate there for dinner both nights. Wyfe and I were there for a brief visit nine years ago, and just picked a restaurant from a hat and tried it - it was great, but we couldn't remember the name of it all these years later. Well, after walking around Saturday we passed what looked like the same place, and determined it had to be. So, on Sunday we ate there (the Piccola Venezia), and left the place so stuffed we could barely breathe. I checked with the waiter, and sure enough they were there and in business back then, and he could very well have been our waiter, since he worked there too. It was great fun, and the food was both tremendous in taste and quantity. The heaping helping of eggplant rollatini with linguini and sauce would explain the smile below:
.JPG)
It was my third time in Boston, and there are still whole sections of the city I've never seen. The only other major, major cities I've been to are London, Philly, Atlanta, and D.C. (which is borderline on the major scale). I love Boston, but will admit I find Philly a little more hometownish for some reason, though I grasp Boston's geography more easily.
In all cases, though, I'm afraid the stereotypical country boy comes out in me after a while. Them cities is nice places to visit and all, but I shore wouldn't want to live there, as they say (and you know who they are)! It's great fun to be able to walk a short ways to get anything you need, but a couple of days pass, and I begin to tire of buildings and bridges and large bodies of water always looming before, above, or around me. Some of the very facets of the city that seem most attractive at first - the hum of cars and crowds, the constant events, the buzz of busy-ness and things always in the process of becoming - are also what eventually repulse me or leave me feeling just a tad lonely, even in the midst of so many people. There, my friends, you have the inherent tension of many an American novel. But I'll leave that to the professionals!
Yes, that's the Tuesday morning following the Monday night we were supposed to return. That night we boarded our plane only to be promptly informed that due to east coast storms we were to be delayed at least an hour. After that hour passed, we heard some relatively optimistic mumblings from the captain, and began rolling down the runway. Eventually we were in the on-deck circle, when we were informed that a storm was right over Boston, and that if we couldn't take off within the next 20 minutes we would have to return to the gate because the first officer's mandatory quittin' time (FAA rules) was upon us. So, we returned to the airport, while Wyfe and I tried to console our sobbing six year-old, and after another hour or so we were informed that more storms had popped up, and the flight was canceled. After about 6 hours of sleep in the hotel they put us up at, we were back on board early the following morning, and I'm happy to say made it back fine. But patience, individual and collective, was sorely tried.
The time in Boston itself was much fun - we just missed out on the basketball celebration, which was probably fortuitous, though I sort of wanted to see the pandemonium from the safety of our hotel room. Speaking of the hotel, we were right on the harbor, across the street from Quincy Market, and adjacent to North End, with it's 90 Italian restaurants. In other words, a great location, which explains the cost (we were only paying one night's worth out of our pockets, since this was a work-related trip for Wyfe). The aforementioned six year-old adjusted quite nicely, and was content to do a lot of walking and exploring, though we threw a horse ride, an aquarium visit, and a children's museum foray into the mix.
Back to the North End for a minute. I'm an absolute nut for Italian food (any region, frankly), so we ate there for dinner both nights. Wyfe and I were there for a brief visit nine years ago, and just picked a restaurant from a hat and tried it - it was great, but we couldn't remember the name of it all these years later. Well, after walking around Saturday we passed what looked like the same place, and determined it had to be. So, on Sunday we ate there (the Piccola Venezia), and left the place so stuffed we could barely breathe. I checked with the waiter, and sure enough they were there and in business back then, and he could very well have been our waiter, since he worked there too. It was great fun, and the food was both tremendous in taste and quantity. The heaping helping of eggplant rollatini with linguini and sauce would explain the smile below:
.JPG)
It was my third time in Boston, and there are still whole sections of the city I've never seen. The only other major, major cities I've been to are London, Philly, Atlanta, and D.C. (which is borderline on the major scale). I love Boston, but will admit I find Philly a little more hometownish for some reason, though I grasp Boston's geography more easily.
In all cases, though, I'm afraid the stereotypical country boy comes out in me after a while. Them cities is nice places to visit and all, but I shore wouldn't want to live there, as they say (and you know who they are)! It's great fun to be able to walk a short ways to get anything you need, but a couple of days pass, and I begin to tire of buildings and bridges and large bodies of water always looming before, above, or around me. Some of the very facets of the city that seem most attractive at first - the hum of cars and crowds, the constant events, the buzz of busy-ness and things always in the process of becoming - are also what eventually repulse me or leave me feeling just a tad lonely, even in the midst of so many people. There, my friends, you have the inherent tension of many an American novel. But I'll leave that to the professionals!
13 June 2008
Don't Blink
That is the title of the ubiquitous Kenny Chesney song being heard at many, many graduations, class awards programs, senior breakfasts, baccalaureate services, etc. this year. It's really hokey and cliched and full of too many drums and hard-edged guitar riffs to qualify as real country music, or really as even a good song. And yet, I heard it three times yesterday in the course of graduation goings-on, and tears welled up every time. My God, what will I be like the day my own son graduates? Probably a total mess.
Anyway, zee school year, it eez finished, and the family is headed to Boston tomorrow for a quick little vacation trip. Upon my return, I will write a mostly comprehensive reflection on the 07/08 days of yore, but until then how about a little quiz?
Let's set this up by proposing that at a school filled with teachers who hold multiple degrees, and filled with a sizable population of well-to-do students, the level of crazy and bizarre behaviors or happenings would not be expected to reach the levels I experienced in my old poorer, rural school district which the Wyfe used to declare was cursed. Now that we've accepted that proposal, here's the quiz:
Which of the following happened over the last 15-20 school days at my humble place of occupation:
A) A teacher became the center of everyone's attention because of amassing evidence that she's been carrying on with a 16 year-old sophomore (a jerk, too, who I taught this year). Administrators began asking other teachers for official affidavits regarding the matter.
B) A screaming match between certain English teachers over the direction of the senior project over the next few years.
C) A bad teacher, who is pregnant, accidentally checked a "resignation" box on a form, instead of "leave-of-absence", and no one told her (purposely) about the mistake until it was too late.
D) A young teacher discovered e-mails and phone calls from her husband to another woman and learned that he was indeed cheating on her. She filed for legal separation immediately.
E) A student and his mom laughed together as I told them over the phone that he wouldn't pass English and would have to go to summer school. "Oh, I know!" they both said.
F) A middle-aged Spanish teacher and a poorly dressed biology teacher almost got into fisticuffs prior to graduation ceremonies when the latter heard the former complain loudly about how undignified her attire was for the occasion. A sherriff's deputy posted at their station had to keep the uh, ladies, separated until they cooled down.
G) One of Mr. P's yearbook and English students, 16 years-old, had to have open heart surgery today because her bone structure was going to lead to her sternum crushing her heart (she is petite and in good health otherwise, by the way).
H) An allegedly roid-using senior stormed off the field at graduation practice because the principal had the nerve to pull him aside and speak to him about the Blue Tooth in his ear and the pimp strut he was doing across the stage.
I) All of the above.
I won't patronize you by actually telling you the correct answer. So much for my Wyfe's theory, though I suspect her next one will involve pointing out that I'm the common denominator. Sigh.
Anyway, zee school year, it eez finished, and the family is headed to Boston tomorrow for a quick little vacation trip. Upon my return, I will write a mostly comprehensive reflection on the 07/08 days of yore, but until then how about a little quiz?
Let's set this up by proposing that at a school filled with teachers who hold multiple degrees, and filled with a sizable population of well-to-do students, the level of crazy and bizarre behaviors or happenings would not be expected to reach the levels I experienced in my old poorer, rural school district which the Wyfe used to declare was cursed. Now that we've accepted that proposal, here's the quiz:
Which of the following happened over the last 15-20 school days at my humble place of occupation:
A) A teacher became the center of everyone's attention because of amassing evidence that she's been carrying on with a 16 year-old sophomore (a jerk, too, who I taught this year). Administrators began asking other teachers for official affidavits regarding the matter.
B) A screaming match between certain English teachers over the direction of the senior project over the next few years.
C) A bad teacher, who is pregnant, accidentally checked a "resignation" box on a form, instead of "leave-of-absence", and no one told her (purposely) about the mistake until it was too late.
D) A young teacher discovered e-mails and phone calls from her husband to another woman and learned that he was indeed cheating on her. She filed for legal separation immediately.
E) A student and his mom laughed together as I told them over the phone that he wouldn't pass English and would have to go to summer school. "Oh, I know!" they both said.
F) A middle-aged Spanish teacher and a poorly dressed biology teacher almost got into fisticuffs prior to graduation ceremonies when the latter heard the former complain loudly about how undignified her attire was for the occasion. A sherriff's deputy posted at their station had to keep the uh, ladies, separated until they cooled down.
G) One of Mr. P's yearbook and English students, 16 years-old, had to have open heart surgery today because her bone structure was going to lead to her sternum crushing her heart (she is petite and in good health otherwise, by the way).
H) An allegedly roid-using senior stormed off the field at graduation practice because the principal had the nerve to pull him aside and speak to him about the Blue Tooth in his ear and the pimp strut he was doing across the stage.
I) All of the above.
I won't patronize you by actually telling you the correct answer. So much for my Wyfe's theory, though I suspect her next one will involve pointing out that I'm the common denominator. Sigh.
07 June 2008
One... Week...To....Go...
losing consciousness... must reach Bat Utility Belt...
Oh, hi. Yes, I'm still kicking around, though I'm doing so with much guilt over the lack of blogging. Just gotta tell you folks, the last couple of months (school, weekend workshops, t-ball and softball) have left me drained of, well, most everything, including time and motivation for blogging. I don't even know where to begin, but I want to get back into a more regular groove now that blessed summer is almost here. Actually, along the east coast it seems to already be more than here, what with the 100 degree heat and all. That, plus the gas prices, make me wonder just how much I should be excited about summer break, but I'll choose to ignore the ominous warnings for now.
Here is a quick update. Last Sunday afternoon I went down and saw the Baccalaureate service for the senior class at my old school, which was well worth it. Everyone was so welcoming and so, well, the same! In some cases, I guess, a few months don't make a huge difference
Thursday night should be my last official day of the school year, with graduation ceremonies that night. It appears we will not be in for any major cool-down by then, so cross your fingers that we won't have a phalanx of ambulances set up to ferry heat stroke victims to the hospital.
After that, my son and I will be tagging along with Wyfe to Boston next Saturday - she has a conference on Monday. Our hotel location, right on the "Hah-buh", can't be beat, and expect us to spend lots of time (especially meal time) among the rows of Italian restaurants on the north end. Too bad the Red Sox are out of town, but we will also be hitting the famous aquarium and some of the Freedom Trail.
In the meantime, I'll try to get back into writing mode with a few odds and ends. Hope I still have some readers out there!
Oh, hi. Yes, I'm still kicking around, though I'm doing so with much guilt over the lack of blogging. Just gotta tell you folks, the last couple of months (school, weekend workshops, t-ball and softball) have left me drained of, well, most everything, including time and motivation for blogging. I don't even know where to begin, but I want to get back into a more regular groove now that blessed summer is almost here. Actually, along the east coast it seems to already be more than here, what with the 100 degree heat and all. That, plus the gas prices, make me wonder just how much I should be excited about summer break, but I'll choose to ignore the ominous warnings for now.
Here is a quick update. Last Sunday afternoon I went down and saw the Baccalaureate service for the senior class at my old school, which was well worth it. Everyone was so welcoming and so, well, the same! In some cases, I guess, a few months don't make a huge difference
Thursday night should be my last official day of the school year, with graduation ceremonies that night. It appears we will not be in for any major cool-down by then, so cross your fingers that we won't have a phalanx of ambulances set up to ferry heat stroke victims to the hospital.
After that, my son and I will be tagging along with Wyfe to Boston next Saturday - she has a conference on Monday. Our hotel location, right on the "Hah-buh", can't be beat, and expect us to spend lots of time (especially meal time) among the rows of Italian restaurants on the north end. Too bad the Red Sox are out of town, but we will also be hitting the famous aquarium and some of the Freedom Trail.
In the meantime, I'll try to get back into writing mode with a few odds and ends. Hope I still have some readers out there!
26 May 2008
Publications Hell
Let's begin with a quick round-up of the publication for which I bear responsibility, that darned yearbook I've been whining about all year. Of all the times of the year I thought I wouldn't struggle with, the spring would have been my choice. But our books came in about 10 days ago, and suffice to say I was not at all prepared for what distributing 900 yearbooks would be like. Literally, I could have (and if it was a regular business, would have) spent the entirety of each day last week on nothing but yearbook matters. I could easily have sold thirty more, as well, if there had been any left.
What killed me was, in the midst of trying to prepare and teach academic classes, being bombarded by phone calls, kids at the door, parent e-mails, teachers and teacher's aides regarding YEARBOOKS! YA GOT ANY YEARBOOKS LEFT? ONE OF MY KIDS ALREADY HAS A BOOK, BUT CAN I BUY ONE EACH FOR MY OTHER 5 KIDS? I KNOW I PAID FOR A BOOK, BUT I'M NOT ON THE LIST (yeah, right)! MY FORMER NEIGHBOR ORDERED A YEARBOOK BUT SHE MOVED TO DENMARK - CAN I SEND IT TO HER?
AARGH!!
I also had to call a "come to Jesus meeting" with the staff because of bad feelings brewing between class members over who was yelling at whom, and who was bossing whom during book distribution, and who will be bossing whom next year, and the editors for next already have a big head and are going to treat us like slaves, and blah, blah, blah. My message to everyone was real simple: they don't pay me nearly enough to deal with constantly unhappy people who are at each other's throats all year; get it out in the open now and work it out, and tell me when you're done (and happy again). So, they did, and I emerged from the room to declare "peace in our time." And yes, that analogy is apt because I'm sure the length of my success will be about the same as old Mr. Chamberlain's (we are talking about teenage girls, after all).
I will nonetheless take my publication issues, warts and all, over what happened to the newspaper advisor last week. Now, she has been doing this for a long time, and is VERY SERIOUS about journalism, and very prickly about complaints regarding her paper. Having said that, she has been really nice to me, and in my opinion the paper has generally seemed o.k. - not too controversial or too insipid, decent enough if not extrememly well-written. However...
Somehow one of her kids decided, in a teacher profile piece printed in the last edition, to include both pro and CON opinions of a civics teacher, as related by some of her students. These were quoted, verbatim, from a survey form. And, some of the quotes were of this variety: "She's too boring, gives us pointless homework, and is more interested in being a coach than a teacher." OH... MY...!
Well, the teacher hit the roof and was so upset she had to go home for the day, an immediate apology is now being printed in what is supposed to the final senior-dedicated edition of the year, parents of the quoted kids are outraged, and the rest of us are scratching our heads and wondering how in the heck-fire those quotes ever saw the light of day, how they got past the editors, and especially how they got by the advisor and/or the principal if he saw it. What - teacher defamation in the name of balanced reporting? I think the advisor gets to keep the job, and since that paper is her baby, I hope so. But like I said, oh my.
Yeah, I'll take MY publication issues anyday.
What killed me was, in the midst of trying to prepare and teach academic classes, being bombarded by phone calls, kids at the door, parent e-mails, teachers and teacher's aides regarding YEARBOOKS! YA GOT ANY YEARBOOKS LEFT? ONE OF MY KIDS ALREADY HAS A BOOK, BUT CAN I BUY ONE EACH FOR MY OTHER 5 KIDS? I KNOW I PAID FOR A BOOK, BUT I'M NOT ON THE LIST (yeah, right)! MY FORMER NEIGHBOR ORDERED A YEARBOOK BUT SHE MOVED TO DENMARK - CAN I SEND IT TO HER?
AARGH!!
I also had to call a "come to Jesus meeting" with the staff because of bad feelings brewing between class members over who was yelling at whom, and who was bossing whom during book distribution, and who will be bossing whom next year, and the editors for next already have a big head and are going to treat us like slaves, and blah, blah, blah. My message to everyone was real simple: they don't pay me nearly enough to deal with constantly unhappy people who are at each other's throats all year; get it out in the open now and work it out, and tell me when you're done (and happy again). So, they did, and I emerged from the room to declare "peace in our time." And yes, that analogy is apt because I'm sure the length of my success will be about the same as old Mr. Chamberlain's (we are talking about teenage girls, after all).
***
I will nonetheless take my publication issues, warts and all, over what happened to the newspaper advisor last week. Now, she has been doing this for a long time, and is VERY SERIOUS about journalism, and very prickly about complaints regarding her paper. Having said that, she has been really nice to me, and in my opinion the paper has generally seemed o.k. - not too controversial or too insipid, decent enough if not extrememly well-written. However...
Somehow one of her kids decided, in a teacher profile piece printed in the last edition, to include both pro and CON opinions of a civics teacher, as related by some of her students. These were quoted, verbatim, from a survey form. And, some of the quotes were of this variety: "She's too boring, gives us pointless homework, and is more interested in being a coach than a teacher." OH... MY...!
Well, the teacher hit the roof and was so upset she had to go home for the day, an immediate apology is now being printed in what is supposed to the final senior-dedicated edition of the year, parents of the quoted kids are outraged, and the rest of us are scratching our heads and wondering how in the heck-fire those quotes ever saw the light of day, how they got past the editors, and especially how they got by the advisor and/or the principal if he saw it. What - teacher defamation in the name of balanced reporting? I think the advisor gets to keep the job, and since that paper is her baby, I hope so. But like I said, oh my.
Yeah, I'll take MY publication issues anyday.
18 May 2008
Careful Where You Step
Around these parts, you know summer is just around the corner when you spot visitors like this fellow in your backyard (he/she was about 4 ft. long):
In case you're worried, we just let him go on his merry way.
In case you're worried, we just let him go on his merry way.
12 May 2008
A Summer of Torturous Prose
Well, I'm in the middle of a five games in six nights t-ball stretch (seriously, is this the major leagues?), so that explains the stony silence of the blog lately. This is, however, the last week of spring season, which is fortunate for the health of the adults in the house.
Just a little something to preview what my summer at the writer's project institute will be like. You see, when you throw together a group of highly intelligent people who love to read, who teach reading and writing, and who therefore secretly, or otherwise, harbor pretensions of making a best-seller list one day, you can pretty much assume the worst. In a situation like this, where these people will be doing a lot of writing for others to read, one can readily anticipate encounters with the "trying too hard" syndrome.
Whatever it says about me, I am absolutely resolved to avoid purple prose and forced metaphors throughout this process, even at the cost of being boring. However, as you check out the following three excerpts (all from different people) culled from a message thread on our group's website, you tell me if others share my attitude. The topic, btw, is what it means to be in the "writing state of mind":
Well, time for me and my writing ghost to hit the sack. See ya.
Just a little something to preview what my summer at the writer's project institute will be like. You see, when you throw together a group of highly intelligent people who love to read, who teach reading and writing, and who therefore secretly, or otherwise, harbor pretensions of making a best-seller list one day, you can pretty much assume the worst. In a situation like this, where these people will be doing a lot of writing for others to read, one can readily anticipate encounters with the "trying too hard" syndrome.
Whatever it says about me, I am absolutely resolved to avoid purple prose and forced metaphors throughout this process, even at the cost of being boring. However, as you check out the following three excerpts (all from different people) culled from a message thread on our group's website, you tell me if others share my attitude. The topic, btw, is what it means to be in the "writing state of mind":
"When I do experience the "writing frame of mind" while I am at my computer or when I have pen in hand, it is like steping into a wave and allowing the cool, calm watering words to seep onto the page. It is a comforting feeling, an excitement that I am rediscovering. I am allowing myself to write without the 'full outline.' I have a quiet expectation, but I am genuinely surprised when the ebb of this tide recedes and I examine what is left on the shore before me."
"When I consider my writing "good," the frame of mind occurs naturally because my body is possessed. There is a writing ghost who inhabits my spirit."
"When I'm in the writing frame of mind it’s as if my brain itches. There is nothing I can do about it, I can't scratch fast enough, deep enough, long enough. In fact, the more I scratch, the more I itch. The words pour out like a salve, and the passion that inspired it is calmed as the thoughts pour out on the page."
Well, time for me and my writing ghost to hit the sack. See ya.
30 April 2008
This is Why I'm Not in Management
Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth, but here goes anyway. At my first school, the problem with recruiting a staff for the yearbook class was that there weren't enough talented, hard-working kids, and that many of those who did fit that bill were in band the same period as my class. So, I would usually get my top two or three for editor positions, and the rest was a combination of kids who liked me but weren't too interested in the book, or people the guidance counselors stuck in.
Now I have much different problems. I have a pretty good group to start with, and only four positions available for next year. There are 10 applicants for those positions, and they are all great candidates. Plus, instead of the advisor making the call by fiat, the tradition has been to let him/her hold the right of veto but let the staff interview the candidates and vote on them themselves.
Well, two of the four slots were slam-dunks to fill, and one of the other two was also decided fairly easily, if not unanimously. That last spot, however, was the source of an hour-long bare-knuckle brawl today. Cheerleader politics, comments about what someone's mom is going to be like to deal with, and every shade of what's-fair and what's-not-fair argument ensued. Nothing has yet been resolved, and I may be called on to make the final call, in which case I become even more of a contributor to someone's heartache.
Why should this bother me? Because I hate, hate, hate to be the one to give bad news, that's why. What if someone cries, for God's sake? Should causing people to cry be part of my job description, unless I'm being paid Dr. Phil money? Nay, I say, nay.
I think next year I'll hand the whole business over to one of the coaches; their used to cutting people all the time, and probably don't give a rip when they do.
Now I have much different problems. I have a pretty good group to start with, and only four positions available for next year. There are 10 applicants for those positions, and they are all great candidates. Plus, instead of the advisor making the call by fiat, the tradition has been to let him/her hold the right of veto but let the staff interview the candidates and vote on them themselves.
Well, two of the four slots were slam-dunks to fill, and one of the other two was also decided fairly easily, if not unanimously. That last spot, however, was the source of an hour-long bare-knuckle brawl today. Cheerleader politics, comments about what someone's mom is going to be like to deal with, and every shade of what's-fair and what's-not-fair argument ensued. Nothing has yet been resolved, and I may be called on to make the final call, in which case I become even more of a contributor to someone's heartache.
Why should this bother me? Because I hate, hate, hate to be the one to give bad news, that's why. What if someone cries, for God's sake? Should causing people to cry be part of my job description, unless I'm being paid Dr. Phil money? Nay, I say, nay.
I think next year I'll hand the whole business over to one of the coaches; their used to cutting people all the time, and probably don't give a rip when they do.
27 April 2008
Yes, I'm Alive...
...but don't have much in the tank after my second weekend in a row of workshop/think-tank/seminar/reflecting heaven (I guess it's heaven to somebody, anyway). Give me a couple of days to get ball games out of the way, and I promise a full rant about some real live deconstruction cultists I wanted to punch during a keynote address yesterday.
In the meantime for any of you literary nerds, below is a link to a great piece on those pesky (mostly Southern, I must add) New Critics whom the deconstructionists like to think they've killed off. They're very much alive in my classroom, by the way, but then I've always been a sucker for the unfashionably old-fashioned. Enjoy!
Grammars of a Possible World
In the meantime for any of you literary nerds, below is a link to a great piece on those pesky (mostly Southern, I must add) New Critics whom the deconstructionists like to think they've killed off. They're very much alive in my classroom, by the way, but then I've always been a sucker for the unfashionably old-fashioned. Enjoy!
Grammars of a Possible World
20 April 2008
Day One of Writer's Project
That was my entire Saturday, save for the little bit of mowing I squeezed in before dark. As you may recall the first two sessions of my summer Writer's Project class take place on back to back Saturdays in the spring, and now one is down. I must say it was fun, and the group of 15, plus three instructors, were fairly irritant-free. We wrote quite a bit, natch. And talked about writing quite a bit, natch. It was enjoyable, but the contrarian in me already points out that in contemporary America people who like to read and write can make books and writing a bit too precious, or a bit too much like religion. I'm well aware of this, because I'm sure I've been guilty of it myself. On the whole, though, I'll say I'm looking forward to spending so much concentrated time writing this summer, even while I try to suppress that "This could lead to big things! Maybe you could be a real writer!" voice I've heard all my life. You know you hear it too (or perhaps you are a real writer!)
Since I'll be spending three weeks of my summer with these people, it's important for me to go ahead and anticipate who will cause me heartburn during that time. The only candidate who sticks out right now is a near-retirement-age teacher from the coast who will be living in Raleigh on campus for all of July. She had a long-winded comment about everything, and while not unpleasant, was the least helpful person in the group writing assignment we did. We'll see if I'm right about my unkind speculation, but I read this as a "divorced and no grandkids" situation.
Wow, that was mean.
The only other person I'll mention at this point was this really sweet granola child in her mid-thirties who teaches in Chapel Hill (heh, heh). Seemed like one of the coolest people there. Among the things she is excited about is the new "Social Justice" academy she helped start at her school, which is run by some English and some history teachers (heh, heh, heh). But you know, she seemed like such a good soul, talking about the organic garden she and her husband have behind their house, and was so nice, that I don't have it in me to completely mock said academy. Yet.
I know that won't stop some of you, though. I hear you, Brad and Phil.
Since I'll be spending three weeks of my summer with these people, it's important for me to go ahead and anticipate who will cause me heartburn during that time. The only candidate who sticks out right now is a near-retirement-age teacher from the coast who will be living in Raleigh on campus for all of July. She had a long-winded comment about everything, and while not unpleasant, was the least helpful person in the group writing assignment we did. We'll see if I'm right about my unkind speculation, but I read this as a "divorced and no grandkids" situation.
Wow, that was mean.
The only other person I'll mention at this point was this really sweet granola child in her mid-thirties who teaches in Chapel Hill (heh, heh). Seemed like one of the coolest people there. Among the things she is excited about is the new "Social Justice" academy she helped start at her school, which is run by some English and some history teachers (heh, heh, heh). But you know, she seemed like such a good soul, talking about the organic garden she and her husband have behind their house, and was so nice, that I don't have it in me to completely mock said academy. Yet.
I know that won't stop some of you, though. I hear you, Brad and Phil.
15 April 2008
I'm a Made Man
Not quite in the same way the guys from "Goodfella's" were, mind you. Last Thursday an office assistant brought me the following ominous note:
Please see me during your planning period. This is an important matter regarding your employment for next year.
-The Principal
I suppressed feelings of panic enough to make it through the class period, then went down to check on it. The agony wore on as I had to wait while he dealt with a couple of boys who had been fighting. Then, when I finally got in, he explained it was nothing bad, and in fact was good. Because of the particular license cycle I am on this year, he had to make a decision to deem me a tenured teacher at the school, or to let me go. "You're too good for me to let you go, so I'm signing off on your tenure," he said.
Now, tenure for public school teachers does not offer the all-encompassing protection it offers for a college professor. Essentially it means that I cannot be moved to another school by the county office against my will, and that my position cannot be eliminated unless our student population dwindled tremendously, and even then I believe they would have to find a spot for me. Of course, I could still get fired for not doing my job, and I suppose there are a number of unforeseen disasters, like half the county getting wiped out by an alien flu, that could alter my employment status. But basically, I'm safe.
Still, the "made man" analogy might not be too far off, judging from the mood around the school the last couple of weeks. Let's just say that everywhere I turn teachers are talking junk about other teachers, palpable dislike hovers over most meetings, and malicious subtexts abound. Yikes. Better find Tessio and Clemenza (I know, I'm mixing movies).
Please see me during your planning period. This is an important matter regarding your employment for next year.
-The Principal
I suppressed feelings of panic enough to make it through the class period, then went down to check on it. The agony wore on as I had to wait while he dealt with a couple of boys who had been fighting. Then, when I finally got in, he explained it was nothing bad, and in fact was good. Because of the particular license cycle I am on this year, he had to make a decision to deem me a tenured teacher at the school, or to let me go. "You're too good for me to let you go, so I'm signing off on your tenure," he said.
Now, tenure for public school teachers does not offer the all-encompassing protection it offers for a college professor. Essentially it means that I cannot be moved to another school by the county office against my will, and that my position cannot be eliminated unless our student population dwindled tremendously, and even then I believe they would have to find a spot for me. Of course, I could still get fired for not doing my job, and I suppose there are a number of unforeseen disasters, like half the county getting wiped out by an alien flu, that could alter my employment status. But basically, I'm safe.
Still, the "made man" analogy might not be too far off, judging from the mood around the school the last couple of weeks. Let's just say that everywhere I turn teachers are talking junk about other teachers, palpable dislike hovers over most meetings, and malicious subtexts abound. Yikes. Better find Tessio and Clemenza (I know, I'm mixing movies).
09 April 2008
Boobs Again (Sorry!)
Well, both t-ball (for the boy) and softball (for me, in an attempt at a limited comeback) have started, and for my pains on Monday and Tuesday nights I contracted a bad enough cough to warrant a visit to the doc-in-the-box again. Nice, huh? But at least there is no infection this time.
Onto the real item for today, which, unfortunately causes me to revisit the prom once again. On that fateful night, I've mentioned previously, there was much to take notice of. However, one thing I did not observe (because I'm a good boy), but that a colleague mentioned that she and her fiance did, was the volume of cleavage on display - in particular, the volume of inauthentic cleavage on display.
This was a bit shocking to hear, 17-18 year-olds and all, and without knowing who some of these belonged to the whole idea of it seemed a bit unreal (pun intended) to me. But then on Monday I had the following conversation with my yearbook editor over the prom page she was checking. Names are changed here to protect the not-so-innocent:
End of sordid conversation. I will only add that "Holly" at one point drove a pink Barbie Jeep (yes, they make those), that she occasionally participates in pageants, and that she has already done a bit of modeling. I now leave it to you, gentle reader, to draw your own conclusions and do your own railing (and/or snickering).
Onto the real item for today, which, unfortunately causes me to revisit the prom once again. On that fateful night, I've mentioned previously, there was much to take notice of. However, one thing I did not observe (because I'm a good boy), but that a colleague mentioned that she and her fiance did, was the volume of cleavage on display - in particular, the volume of inauthentic cleavage on display.
This was a bit shocking to hear, 17-18 year-olds and all, and without knowing who some of these belonged to the whole idea of it seemed a bit unreal (pun intended) to me. But then on Monday I had the following conversation with my yearbook editor over the prom page she was checking. Names are changed here to protect the not-so-innocent:
Editor: Mr. P. you need to look at the this picture we have on the prom page. It's got Holly in it, and we should probably take it out since she's on the staff. But also... well, look at her in that dress. Isn't that inappropriate.
Me (glancing at the cleavagy picture as gingerly as possible): Yeah, probably. You can take it out. You know, my wife and I happened to notice Holly's dress was really short.
Editor: I know. It was scandalous.
Me: Well, I'll tell you this also. I didn't happen to see this, but some other teachers were remarking on the number of... uh... implants they saw on a number of the girls there.
Editor: Oh, definitely.
Me: Unbelievable. What are their parents thinking? [pause] But now my curiosity has the best of me. Any chance Holly is one of those they were talking about?
Editor: Well, you know the rumor from last year, don't you?
Me: No.
Editor: She missed a lot of school spring semester last year, and she said it was because she had mono. But the rumor was she really had implant surgery. Everyone thinks it's true because no one can remember her having anything close to those before she was gone for so long.
End of sordid conversation. I will only add that "Holly" at one point drove a pink Barbie Jeep (yes, they make those), that she occasionally participates in pageants, and that she has already done a bit of modeling. I now leave it to you, gentle reader, to draw your own conclusions and do your own railing (and/or snickering).
02 April 2008
Sign of Things to Come, or Just an Accurate Description?
We picked up our uniforms for my son's tee-ball team last night (I get a shirt too, for being asst. coach). We knew we were the Braves, but didn't know our sponsor, until we saw it printed on the back. This season, we will proudly display the following on our jerseys for the world to see:
All Star Waste
I think I'll post a picture of myself in that shirt on my teacher web page.
All Star Waste
I think I'll post a picture of myself in that shirt on my teacher web page.
28 March 2008
Congrats To Me; Let the Whining Commence
So, I attended a one day writing workshop back in January at N.C. State, and was so impressed by some of the tips I got that I decided to apply to the summer institute the Dept. of Education there puts on in conjunction with the National Writing Project. I was also highly motivated by the fact that I have two years left to get the rest of my continuing education credits out of the way, and thought I might as well do it in one big potentially enjoyable chunk.
Well, I applied to the summer institute, and just found out I was accepted. There were only 15 spots for 35 applicants, so yay for me, etc., etc. In reading the material, though, I began to seriously contemplate the pain in the rear this will be. In April, I have to go to a day long orientation one Saturday, followed by an even longer workshop and debriefing the next Saturday. That means working - gasp! - 12 out of 14 days. On top of that, it means missing two tee-ball games. DON'T YOU PEOPLE KNOW I'M AN ASSISTANT COACH?!!
And, as for the summer institute, it goes on for almost three full weeks, and, because it also counts for graduate credits, will no doubt involve some sort of research project/paper, in addition to heavy writing practice, as one of the core principles of NWP is that "Effective professional development programs provide frequent and ongoing opportunities for teachers to write and to examine theory, research, and practice together systematically." Whoo.
I need my Mommy.
Well, I applied to the summer institute, and just found out I was accepted. There were only 15 spots for 35 applicants, so yay for me, etc., etc. In reading the material, though, I began to seriously contemplate the pain in the rear this will be. In April, I have to go to a day long orientation one Saturday, followed by an even longer workshop and debriefing the next Saturday. That means working - gasp! - 12 out of 14 days. On top of that, it means missing two tee-ball games. DON'T YOU PEOPLE KNOW I'M AN ASSISTANT COACH?!!
And, as for the summer institute, it goes on for almost three full weeks, and, because it also counts for graduate credits, will no doubt involve some sort of research project/paper, in addition to heavy writing practice, as one of the core principles of NWP is that "Effective professional development programs provide frequent and ongoing opportunities for teachers to write and to examine theory, research, and practice together systematically." Whoo.
I need my Mommy.
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