Most of my adjunct responsibilities involve teaching, but part is administrative. I advise new and nondegree students, and I am the keeper of enrollment. Some courses are required in all programs and are much in demand, so they are by permission of instructor. In a time of shrinking resources when extra sections can't easily be added (and it would impact quality to allow a graduate class to be huge), I have to watch and manage enrollments carefully. Elective courses may be in jeopardy of cancellation while students are clamoring for one of the requireds, even though they have several semesters to take all of them and they need to take electives too. I try to guarantee priority students get into what they need, and to prevent cancellations from happening.
I like planning, process and policy, and you might say I am comfortable with some aspects of bureaucracy (gasp), so being the gatekeeper is an easy role. It's defensible and fair, and that appeals to me. For the past couple of years I've been relying more and more on electronic tools for the tedious paperwork and other details of my system, and it has greatly improved and become more efficient.
Recently I have been releasing the permission numbers to students for fall. I have lists of numbers printed on paper from the records system. This year, I issued a bunch of numbers to students for the first class I was releasing. Almost immediately, I received an email from one of them, reporting trouble registering. That isn't uncommon, students often make mistakes when entering the number, or have holds on their records, or I could have sent them a number with a typo. I looked into it, compared my email to my list, didn't see anything wrong on my end. The problem persisted, however. Eventually I realized my error. The course number was "673" and I had issued the number from the list for "623," and not just for this one student, but for every student on the list.
That was a long preface for my point, which isn't about advisement or enrollment or adjuncting or stupid lists of numbers, because really -- who cares? The mistake isn't a big deal, except that the reason I made it was because I really did believe the 2 was a 7. I'd been struggling with not just the class number, but with every permission number on the sheet. I was bound to make many more errors, even when it is the list for the correct class number, because those numbers are so tiny!
Two years ago I went to the optometrist and got glasses after a couple of years of noticing I needed them. I had bought a few cheap pairs of reading glasses in the drugstore maybe a year before going in to get prescription ones. I was told by the doctor that I have a slight case of age-related astigmatism, and also that I needed reading glasses, but could get by with the over the counter lowest level strength pairs I'd been using if I preferred.
I decided to get two pairs of prescription glasses: bifocals and separate reading glasses. I also have five pairs of reading glasses from the drugstore (as I mentioned). This way I don't have to hunt for them. I knew I would probably not want to wear the bifocals all the time, if ever. (And that has been true, I don't like the bifocals and use them mostly for reading menus in restaurants.) I have glasses everywhere - in every room of the Castleton house, in Samsonville, on campus, and in my pocketbook (the latter is where I keep the bifocals).
So the trouble with the permission lists isn't because I am not using my glasses! I have a pair, 1.0 strength, right here, near the computer. What I need now is a 1.25 pair. Luckily I also have access to the records system, so I have figured out a work-around that is actually more efficient! I copy/paste the number right from the system to my response email. Now there can never be a mistake, whether due to poor vision or not.
I think having to wear reading glasses is the most irritating thing about getting older. Sure, there are other physical changes that can be no fun either, but reading glasses are taking away some of my pleasure in reading books. I was thinking about this last night, when I was reading Mark Twain's autobiography. The typeface is so small in that book! I know it isn't just me. But back in my 20/20 days, I would have consumed that book voraciously, tiny font size or not. I've had it since January - it would have been finished before spring classes started. I am not quite half-done, and even though it is a page turner, beautifully written, a pleasure content-wise...I am finding it a struggle.
Bob had been doing some traveling for work (which always means a blessed television-free spell submerged with a good book for me) and when he got home late last night, I looked up from Mr. Twain and whined "why would the editor decide to use a typeface this small? I know the book is very long and there already will be multiple volumes, but I would buy even more volumes if only the font was larger!" He replied, "maybe they are trying to incentivize getting a Kindle? Then you could make it any size you want."
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Sums and Differences
original draft 1997
This is a sad place. "Shabby" or "run down" do not begin to describe it. "Worn" is more like it. It must have been splendid in its heyday. The drapes, the wood, the magnitude of the space are testimony to a time when this was a fabulous vacation destination. Now the next generation flies away to an exotic tropical place for less than it cost Mom and Dad to drive here from the city.
"To the Association of Math Teachers" cries the DJ before playing Buster Poindexter's "Hot Hot Hot." The groups of teachers are giddy from escaping the classroom for a day or two, pumped up from the workshops and the textbook sales reps and the astronaut's keynote speech. They notice, but do not seem to mind, the cigarette burns in what was once a mod carpet.
A woman in the elevator confides that it is rumored that Donald Trump is interested in this hotel for casino gambling. My new friend from New York's North Country grumbles that the Superintendent hired a techie from Clarkson University to "do" the computers, and stuck him with elementary remedial math. He loves teaching, he assures me, but he wanted to "do" the computers, he says. I try to be sympathetic, but the feeling isn't genuine, so I do my best to lose him in the crowd, and I am successful. Another teacher tells me that there is a lot more food beyond the bar in the other room. I walk through a wall of smoke into that room and make a bee-line for the hot appetizers. Ten people ask me what each item is. Do they think I work here?, I wonder. Or is my culinary expertise obvious? Perhaps it is this stupid red "speaker" ribbon that I am wearing.
My dinner companions laugh because everyone thinks they are a married couple. She explains how funny this is since he is old enough to be her father, and the thought is revolting. I am surprised by how straightforward she is, but he takes her remarks with good humor, and tells me he is disappointed because the TV in his room won't pick up the Buffalo Bills game. Although I didn't think they were married and have no reason to suspect an affair, I do notice that they are very cozy about sharing their food. I tell them that I am not one to judge age differences, that my grandparents were thirty years apart and my nephew dates a woman who is fourteen years his senior.
She says she can't imagine how that works. I smile. I like her. He asks me how my family handles it, and I tell him that there are so many more important things to worry over. He says that is a wonderful attitude, and suddenly I can imagine him working at a Catholic all-boys prep school. I decide that I like him, too. They start to talk about geometry with great enthusiasm; I stare at my plate, then finally shut my eyes to hide my amusement at the irony of me in this place.
Later, in my room, I read two chapters of a book while sitting in one of the filthy lounge chairs and then skim the State Education Department's learning standards booklets. My mind is wandering and I promise myself a writing reward when I am done. I wonder about the vacationers who have passed through this place. The intrusive noise of a television comes through the wall from the next room. And I know that there will be at least two friendly faces at my session tomorrow, the '90s version of a May-September romance.
original draft 1997
This is a sad place. "Shabby" or "run down" do not begin to describe it. "Worn" is more like it. It must have been splendid in its heyday. The drapes, the wood, the magnitude of the space are testimony to a time when this was a fabulous vacation destination. Now the next generation flies away to an exotic tropical place for less than it cost Mom and Dad to drive here from the city.
"To the Association of Math Teachers" cries the DJ before playing Buster Poindexter's "Hot Hot Hot." The groups of teachers are giddy from escaping the classroom for a day or two, pumped up from the workshops and the textbook sales reps and the astronaut's keynote speech. They notice, but do not seem to mind, the cigarette burns in what was once a mod carpet.
A woman in the elevator confides that it is rumored that Donald Trump is interested in this hotel for casino gambling. My new friend from New York's North Country grumbles that the Superintendent hired a techie from Clarkson University to "do" the computers, and stuck him with elementary remedial math. He loves teaching, he assures me, but he wanted to "do" the computers, he says. I try to be sympathetic, but the feeling isn't genuine, so I do my best to lose him in the crowd, and I am successful. Another teacher tells me that there is a lot more food beyond the bar in the other room. I walk through a wall of smoke into that room and make a bee-line for the hot appetizers. Ten people ask me what each item is. Do they think I work here?, I wonder. Or is my culinary expertise obvious? Perhaps it is this stupid red "speaker" ribbon that I am wearing.
My dinner companions laugh because everyone thinks they are a married couple. She explains how funny this is since he is old enough to be her father, and the thought is revolting. I am surprised by how straightforward she is, but he takes her remarks with good humor, and tells me he is disappointed because the TV in his room won't pick up the Buffalo Bills game. Although I didn't think they were married and have no reason to suspect an affair, I do notice that they are very cozy about sharing their food. I tell them that I am not one to judge age differences, that my grandparents were thirty years apart and my nephew dates a woman who is fourteen years his senior.
She says she can't imagine how that works. I smile. I like her. He asks me how my family handles it, and I tell him that there are so many more important things to worry over. He says that is a wonderful attitude, and suddenly I can imagine him working at a Catholic all-boys prep school. I decide that I like him, too. They start to talk about geometry with great enthusiasm; I stare at my plate, then finally shut my eyes to hide my amusement at the irony of me in this place.
Later, in my room, I read two chapters of a book while sitting in one of the filthy lounge chairs and then skim the State Education Department's learning standards booklets. My mind is wandering and I promise myself a writing reward when I am done. I wonder about the vacationers who have passed through this place. The intrusive noise of a television comes through the wall from the next room. And I know that there will be at least two friendly faces at my session tomorrow, the '90s version of a May-September romance.
My sister sent me this video link. The title made me reluctant to click on it, even though she never sends spam email. Then on FB she linked it and wrote "Thunder got them out of the pool in a hurry and into the Dinomobile." Funny, that sounds like a Jumble! (My BIL loves the Jumble.) It's our parents, quickly leaving after their swim in her pool. My father is very fond of exotic motorized things.
I am trying to get one last task done today - my faculty activity report - so I can go outside, weed whack, and fence my garden. The seeds are all up and looking good. Very little hail damage in general, despite the storms being mean. At least I want to be able to weed whack, and keep my fingers crossed that the critters won't find the sprouts.
Added: I got everything done, and there was time to weed whack. Also to do tasks I hate (laundry and dishes). I checked the garden but didn't put up the fence. It was a productive day already. I was hot from weed whacking even though the temperature didn't seem that bad. But even if I had been inclined, the mosquitos were awful! Hopefully it will keep until Monday and there will be some good weather for outside work next week. I had the happy realization this afternoon that I have been so "on task" that next week is gloriously free -- I'll be able to put in some time on my research - and can also sleep in, stay up late, work in the garden, read, write, draw and cook to my heart's content!
On the agenda for this weekend: the pool and getting back on the grid!
I am trying to get one last task done today - my faculty activity report - so I can go outside, weed whack, and fence my garden. The seeds are all up and looking good. Very little hail damage in general, despite the storms being mean. At least I want to be able to weed whack, and keep my fingers crossed that the critters won't find the sprouts.
Added: I got everything done, and there was time to weed whack. Also to do tasks I hate (laundry and dishes). I checked the garden but didn't put up the fence. It was a productive day already. I was hot from weed whacking even though the temperature didn't seem that bad. But even if I had been inclined, the mosquitos were awful! Hopefully it will keep until Monday and there will be some good weather for outside work next week. I had the happy realization this afternoon that I have been so "on task" that next week is gloriously free -- I'll be able to put in some time on my research - and can also sleep in, stay up late, work in the garden, read, write, draw and cook to my heart's content!
On the agenda for this weekend: the pool and getting back on the grid!
Thursday, June 09, 2011
From the scholarly journal "duh." And basing the piece on the experiences of a 32 year old couple? LOL. That's when the severe pressure to conform to social norms has just begun. The impertinent questions about being childfree only increase. They taper off quickly at about age 40, and are nonexistant by 45. (Something good about menopause.)
Ghosts of the Past
originally drafted 2001
I write from my new office. Finally. The view is dismal, not mountains or the river but a large parking lot bordered by the ugliest side of an abandoned gravel grinding business. Sigh. At least there are windows; at the Vo-Tech almost all offices were solid concrete block cells. In the distance, across yet another highway, up on a hill, there is one pretty spot: a large old white house with black shutters. The grandest classical architecture, all columns and pediments and gable ends, now surrounded by suburban sprawl of the WalMart variety.
Actually, train tracks are the true border of the parking lot, just beyond the weed-wrapped chain link fence – or at least I imagine those dead vines are weeds, as it is still too cold here for the growing season – and 10 times per day freight trains lumber by. The train must be my destiny, because in Castleton we have Amtrak, much louder and faster.
My neighbors – if you don’t count my secretary and a handful of teachers and students -- are a dot-com, a health insurance company and a vast expanse of emptiness. Behind the smoky glass of the other half of this flashcube*, and the entire one next door, are rows and rows of hallways made of moveable walls dotted by doors. Identical tiny office after tiny office with an occasional secretarial workstation, and in the building next door, a 1,500 seat cafeteria, now inhabited, I’m told by a friendly maintenance guy, only by an occasional raccoon or feral mother cat and kittens.
Where once an army of white-shirted IBMers toiled away at XTs, now there are only numbers designating locations in mod ‘70s type. It looks like they were golden parachuted, or transferred to Research Triangle North Carolina, just yesterday, if you don’t notice the weeds (make that potential weeds, maybe today the rest of the snow will melt) in the cracks of the parking lot.
This place tells the history of 20th Century America in a single square mile; economic boom circa 1900 meant railroads and Georgian mansions; economic boom circa 1960 meant cars and IBM; economic boom circa 1995 meant still more cars and WalMart.
The space we occupy is beautiful, and except for the bathroom, has been renovated to the extent that there is hardly a trace of its former inhabitants. 15,000 square feet and a seven year lease and a five year grant and four cars in a parking lot as big as an ocean. Something will have to give eventually.
*Just the other day (in May 2011), I said something about a flashcube and Bob replied that today's youth have no idea what that word means. Not only the actual technological thing that we used in the dark ages on cameras - but that metaphor for a typical ugly glass office building now has no reference point.
originally drafted 2001
I write from my new office. Finally. The view is dismal, not mountains or the river but a large parking lot bordered by the ugliest side of an abandoned gravel grinding business. Sigh. At least there are windows; at the Vo-Tech almost all offices were solid concrete block cells. In the distance, across yet another highway, up on a hill, there is one pretty spot: a large old white house with black shutters. The grandest classical architecture, all columns and pediments and gable ends, now surrounded by suburban sprawl of the WalMart variety.
Actually, train tracks are the true border of the parking lot, just beyond the weed-wrapped chain link fence – or at least I imagine those dead vines are weeds, as it is still too cold here for the growing season – and 10 times per day freight trains lumber by. The train must be my destiny, because in Castleton we have Amtrak, much louder and faster.
My neighbors – if you don’t count my secretary and a handful of teachers and students -- are a dot-com, a health insurance company and a vast expanse of emptiness. Behind the smoky glass of the other half of this flashcube*, and the entire one next door, are rows and rows of hallways made of moveable walls dotted by doors. Identical tiny office after tiny office with an occasional secretarial workstation, and in the building next door, a 1,500 seat cafeteria, now inhabited, I’m told by a friendly maintenance guy, only by an occasional raccoon or feral mother cat and kittens.
Where once an army of white-shirted IBMers toiled away at XTs, now there are only numbers designating locations in mod ‘70s type. It looks like they were golden parachuted, or transferred to Research Triangle North Carolina, just yesterday, if you don’t notice the weeds (make that potential weeds, maybe today the rest of the snow will melt) in the cracks of the parking lot.
This place tells the history of 20th Century America in a single square mile; economic boom circa 1900 meant railroads and Georgian mansions; economic boom circa 1960 meant cars and IBM; economic boom circa 1995 meant still more cars and WalMart.
The space we occupy is beautiful, and except for the bathroom, has been renovated to the extent that there is hardly a trace of its former inhabitants. 15,000 square feet and a seven year lease and a five year grant and four cars in a parking lot as big as an ocean. Something will have to give eventually.
*Just the other day (in May 2011), I said something about a flashcube and Bob replied that today's youth have no idea what that word means. Not only the actual technological thing that we used in the dark ages on cameras - but that metaphor for a typical ugly glass office building now has no reference point.
Due to my recent newspaper hiatus, I haven't been reading it very much when it does come on Thursday or Sunday, but this morning, I made sure to retrieve my $50 paper from the sidewalk. Turns out today this annual feature was published.
Last year I commented on the article:
It's pretty much the usual. Oddly chosen categories, lots of chains, and TU dominating the journalism and online categories. I wonder what motivates someone to bother filling out the survey when the responses are "Home Depot" and "CVS." Save your digits - or your ink. But it's the TU's fault, really. Naturally big boxes are going to win. Main Street Hardware's single location in some corner of the Capital District is not going to get as many votes as Lowe's with a presence in every town. The survey is so unscientific it's laughable.
Then, one of the winning pictures is of the circus. Bad enough that it is shameless TU promotion, but does the event have to be the circus! Why did I bring in this rag to assault me? Online, I likely would not have clicked through to see the picture.
To counteract the awfulness, go here and donate to a worthy cause! It's MHRHS' Paws in the Park. I am not walking this year (I did last year, and I was looking forward to doing it again. I was excited to meet Oliver) but circumstances have conspired to be otherwise. However, my nephew is an officer on the board, and he's walking. Sam and Sophie (and Rudy, from heaven) say thanks!
Finally, here's an article I might have skipped if I didn't have the "paper" today. I have a habit, or a characteristic (I'm not sure how to describe it) that is a feature (to me) or I'm told, sometimes a bug (to others): I don't perceive television commercials. I turn off both my vision and my hearing as soon as they come on. I don't shut down exactly, I slip into my own thoughts and can't remember a thing about the advertisement. They are completely tuned out.
The only time this isn't true is if the ad features a dog or cat, in more than a cursory manner. For example, currently I love the commercial with the wiry dog who puts a bone in a safe deposit box and can't stop thinking about it. I also always paid attention to the one with the lab puppy singing "I ain't got bugs on me." However, even for commercials such as those, I don't remember the product, or it takes many repetitions before I do. (Right now, I can remember they were for insurance and flea medication respectively, but I couldn't tell you which company or brand.)
Last year I commented on the article:
The categories with TU wins last year made me uncomfortable, and this year it got worse. What will be added in next year? Oh, I know! Best Place to See a Concert: 1) Times Union Center; 2) Times Union Parking Lot; 3) Times Union Conference Room. Times Union rooftop came in a close fourth. I am not specifically criticizing the writers listed, and I have enjoyed Paul Grondahl’s work very much (although John Grey’s Wednesday column in the Troy Record should land him somewhere in the top three; on its own, it makes the subscription price for that paper worth it) but the print journalist, website, and blogger categories should be removed from the survey. It’s shameless.
It's pretty much the usual. Oddly chosen categories, lots of chains, and TU dominating the journalism and online categories. I wonder what motivates someone to bother filling out the survey when the responses are "Home Depot" and "CVS." Save your digits - or your ink. But it's the TU's fault, really. Naturally big boxes are going to win. Main Street Hardware's single location in some corner of the Capital District is not going to get as many votes as Lowe's with a presence in every town. The survey is so unscientific it's laughable.
Then, one of the winning pictures is of the circus. Bad enough that it is shameless TU promotion, but does the event have to be the circus! Why did I bring in this rag to assault me? Online, I likely would not have clicked through to see the picture.
To counteract the awfulness, go here and donate to a worthy cause! It's MHRHS' Paws in the Park. I am not walking this year (I did last year, and I was looking forward to doing it again. I was excited to meet Oliver) but circumstances have conspired to be otherwise. However, my nephew is an officer on the board, and he's walking. Sam and Sophie (and Rudy, from heaven) say thanks!
Finally, here's an article I might have skipped if I didn't have the "paper" today. I have a habit, or a characteristic (I'm not sure how to describe it) that is a feature (to me) or I'm told, sometimes a bug (to others): I don't perceive television commercials. I turn off both my vision and my hearing as soon as they come on. I don't shut down exactly, I slip into my own thoughts and can't remember a thing about the advertisement. They are completely tuned out.
The only time this isn't true is if the ad features a dog or cat, in more than a cursory manner. For example, currently I love the commercial with the wiry dog who puts a bone in a safe deposit box and can't stop thinking about it. I also always paid attention to the one with the lab puppy singing "I ain't got bugs on me." However, even for commercials such as those, I don't remember the product, or it takes many repetitions before I do. (Right now, I can remember they were for insurance and flea medication respectively, but I couldn't tell you which company or brand.)
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Get Your Boots On
original drafts 1997-2005
Mimmie preferred to stay at her home, even on holidays. She did join us at our house a few times for Christmas or Easter dinner, but more often she cooked for herself and Uncle Bud. Before Grandpa died, sometimes we had holiday dinners with them at the old place.
One holiday especially stands out in my memory. Though it was early in the winter for such a big storm, we awakened on Thanksgiving morning to a thick blanket of snow. Supper was to be cooked at home, but transported to and eaten at Mimmie’s and Grandpa’s house. Daddy was in Florida visiting relatives, the highway crews were in no hurry to clear the roads on a holiday, and it didn’t seem likely that our car would make it there. Undaunted, Ma cooked anyway.
On Monday, when I got to school, my friends had lively stories of Thanksgiving disappointment. Those who were traveling had hotdogs instead of turkey, because they had to stay home and had no provisions. The families who were hosting holiday meals wound up with plenty of food, but no guests to share it. Then it was my turn to tell our Thanksgiving story. We had supper at my grandparents’ house, exactly as planned, I said. "Get your boots on," Ma told us when she was done cooking. We loaded the dishes of food into a sled and took turns pulling it as we walked the three miles through the snow to Mimmie’s and Grandpa’s.
In 1994, when I worked for System, I was directing a new assessment program that had a serious deadline. We had to ship exams to participating high schools, and they were to be administered during January Regents Week. A lot of the folks I worked with were brilliant people, but they were steeped in dreaming about theory. I was even teased a few times about my applied science master's degree, and described as overly "task oriented." The clock was ticking on getting the exams out - it took forever to agree on test items, pilot the tests, and finally get them and all the associated materials printed up. It was a roll up your sleeves last minute project but it looked as if we were going to make it. Then a major snowstorm hit, and there was no way to ship the boxes. Even Fed Ex would not come and pick them up; they had to be delivered to the office, across the street and up the sidewalk.
Suffice to say, those tests would have languished in the mailroom if the job had been left up to "my betters" or even to my subordinates. A naive, young but marvelous graduate assistant who worked for me blinked, "what are we going to do?" I thought for a minute. "Get your boots on." We loaded hand trucks with stacks of boxes and dragged them through the ice and snow to 41 State. Task-oriented is a bad thing my a--!
original drafts 1997-2005
"You know, you can hardly get me to go to a party. I like to visit with you, I visit better I think with one person or two than with a whole crowd. It’s terrible sometimes when you have to listen, and it isn’t a bit interesting to you." (Mimmie, 10 April 1981)
Mimmie preferred to stay at her home, even on holidays. She did join us at our house a few times for Christmas or Easter dinner, but more often she cooked for herself and Uncle Bud. Before Grandpa died, sometimes we had holiday dinners with them at the old place.
One holiday especially stands out in my memory. Though it was early in the winter for such a big storm, we awakened on Thanksgiving morning to a thick blanket of snow. Supper was to be cooked at home, but transported to and eaten at Mimmie’s and Grandpa’s house. Daddy was in Florida visiting relatives, the highway crews were in no hurry to clear the roads on a holiday, and it didn’t seem likely that our car would make it there. Undaunted, Ma cooked anyway.
On Monday, when I got to school, my friends had lively stories of Thanksgiving disappointment. Those who were traveling had hotdogs instead of turkey, because they had to stay home and had no provisions. The families who were hosting holiday meals wound up with plenty of food, but no guests to share it. Then it was my turn to tell our Thanksgiving story. We had supper at my grandparents’ house, exactly as planned, I said. "Get your boots on," Ma told us when she was done cooking. We loaded the dishes of food into a sled and took turns pulling it as we walked the three miles through the snow to Mimmie’s and Grandpa’s.
In 1994, when I worked for System, I was directing a new assessment program that had a serious deadline. We had to ship exams to participating high schools, and they were to be administered during January Regents Week. A lot of the folks I worked with were brilliant people, but they were steeped in dreaming about theory. I was even teased a few times about my applied science master's degree, and described as overly "task oriented." The clock was ticking on getting the exams out - it took forever to agree on test items, pilot the tests, and finally get them and all the associated materials printed up. It was a roll up your sleeves last minute project but it looked as if we were going to make it. Then a major snowstorm hit, and there was no way to ship the boxes. Even Fed Ex would not come and pick them up; they had to be delivered to the office, across the street and up the sidewalk.
Suffice to say, those tests would have languished in the mailroom if the job had been left up to "my betters" or even to my subordinates. A naive, young but marvelous graduate assistant who worked for me blinked, "what are we going to do?" I thought for a minute. "Get your boots on." We loaded hand trucks with stacks of boxes and dragged them through the ice and snow to 41 State. Task-oriented is a bad thing my a--!
I am in "customer care" hell. A few months ago, I canceled home delivery of the TU. I loved receiving a morning paper, and have always subscribed to at least one. But over the winter it was often late or not delivered at all, it is too expensive, it is available online, and the front page and many stories mostly wind up irritating me.
In late May I received a telephone call from a sales representative pitching Thursday/Sunday delivery for 10 weeks for 10 dollars, including a source card. I told the representative to call me back the following day after I had discussed it with Bob.
It wasn't the ten bucks. Unsubscribing was based on principle - so we both have to be on the same page. He was agreeable, since newspaper is handy for things like mulching the garden and putting under the cat box. Also he sort of missed the Sunday paper and Thursday Preview section and although he said he'd just go to Stewart's and get one, he never does. There is something about waking up and reading it with your morning coffee (tea in his case). When the rep called back, I confirmed that I would only be charged ten dollars, and he assured me that was the case, so I gave him my debit card number. I asked him what would happen after the ten weeks, and he said I could call to cancel, or the subscription would continue at the regular rate for Thursday/Sunday.
My 10 weeks is from May 26 to August 3. The paper has been coming without a problem, although no source card has arrived. I was charged the $10 on May 27. Today I was looking at my account and I see that I was charged $40 on June 4. I have every intention of canceling when the trial is done, because after not having the paper delivered, I have gotten used to not reading it, and I don't feel like paying the regular rate. My blood was boiling. So I called the number listed on the TU website and it is a voice mail account. Billing has to call back.
I called the credit union, and they told me the TU can reverse the charge, also that if I am not comfortable with my account number being in their system, I can cancel my card and get a new one (what a hassle). So I called the TU again, but this time I didn't bother with billing, I chose a different option that I knew would get results, waited the long hold time, and extracted a promise that my debit number has been deleted and an offer for the one dollar per week deal for either six months or a whole year, with a one time payment. I didn't take the deal, and don't plan to consider it until Billing makes good on my $40. Apparently the only way to address that is with the call back from them. In my mind, the cliche "fool me one, shame on you...fool me twice, shame on me" is running. Also live and learn. Stay tuned.
Later: I didn't hear back from Billing so this afternoon I emailed a woman who is up in the chain of command for subscriptions; received a fast, if terse response. She's trying to expedite my refund.
In late May I received a telephone call from a sales representative pitching Thursday/Sunday delivery for 10 weeks for 10 dollars, including a source card. I told the representative to call me back the following day after I had discussed it with Bob.
It wasn't the ten bucks. Unsubscribing was based on principle - so we both have to be on the same page. He was agreeable, since newspaper is handy for things like mulching the garden and putting under the cat box. Also he sort of missed the Sunday paper and Thursday Preview section and although he said he'd just go to Stewart's and get one, he never does. There is something about waking up and reading it with your morning coffee (tea in his case). When the rep called back, I confirmed that I would only be charged ten dollars, and he assured me that was the case, so I gave him my debit card number. I asked him what would happen after the ten weeks, and he said I could call to cancel, or the subscription would continue at the regular rate for Thursday/Sunday.
My 10 weeks is from May 26 to August 3. The paper has been coming without a problem, although no source card has arrived. I was charged the $10 on May 27. Today I was looking at my account and I see that I was charged $40 on June 4. I have every intention of canceling when the trial is done, because after not having the paper delivered, I have gotten used to not reading it, and I don't feel like paying the regular rate. My blood was boiling. So I called the number listed on the TU website and it is a voice mail account. Billing has to call back.
I called the credit union, and they told me the TU can reverse the charge, also that if I am not comfortable with my account number being in their system, I can cancel my card and get a new one (what a hassle). So I called the TU again, but this time I didn't bother with billing, I chose a different option that I knew would get results, waited the long hold time, and extracted a promise that my debit number has been deleted and an offer for the one dollar per week deal for either six months or a whole year, with a one time payment. I didn't take the deal, and don't plan to consider it until Billing makes good on my $40. Apparently the only way to address that is with the call back from them. In my mind, the cliche "fool me one, shame on you...fool me twice, shame on me" is running. Also live and learn. Stay tuned.
Later: I didn't hear back from Billing so this afternoon I emailed a woman who is up in the chain of command for subscriptions; received a fast, if terse response. She's trying to expedite my refund.
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Borderline nut job works for customer service every time. It's a shame, really, that one has to resort to it to get results. After a series of boilerplate email exchanges, I "liked" them so I could write a mean comment on TW's FB site. After that, I decided to stop pursuing it yesterday, too aggravated. First thing this morning I called. I didn't yell or behave irrationally, I just detailed my outage saga and listed my demands in a calm, serious voice, speaking very rapidly: 1) restoration sooner than June 14 or palatable explanation for why not; 2) not having to be at home during repair; 3) take it off my bill now, I do not want to wait for a credit after I pay.
I said I had been considering switching to TW telephone but how could I if the outage is three weeks? Also that I would have to consider moving to satellite Internet, even if it is slower. It would be cheaper than turbo, and more reliable. I teach online and can't have no service.
Customer service agreed to every demand, and said my service would be restored in 24-48 hours. Shortly afterwards the phone rang, it was a technician. He said he was on his way to my house! YAY. I'm awaiting word that it is fixed. (Fingers crossed.) I'm sure it is a big job, a tree is on the wire.
I put in some effort and my class is coming along fine. What a relief. While I was deeply submerged in design, the phone rang. It was a call from an organization advocating for gay marriage. It wasn't a robo call, but a real person - amazing. The guy on the phone asked me if I support it, and I said "Yes, I do." Then he said he was going to transfer me to my state senator's office so I could tell him to vote in favor of it. I said, "what? Hey, wait a minute, I don't call my senator ever, and I am not about to start now." He seemed shocked, said "really?" and hung up.
What a jerk! I often write letters and email them to my representatives, most recently on 1) animal rights and 2) SUNY2020, but I never call them about anything. Sometimes organizations will send a script that you can customize for your letter and provide links. Did this guy bother to offer anything? No.
I think it may have to do with this being a contentious issue in society, he was making assumptions about someone who isn't pliable. Another perfect example for toleration! One of the criticisms of social science survey research is called the social desirability hypothesis. It states that educated people are good at giving the right answer, but that doesn’t necessarily reflect their actual beliefs. They lie either to be PC or to give the researcher the answer they want to hear.
According to Vogt, there is not a lot of evidence to support the social desirability hypothesis even if it sounds intuitively good. (Kind of like the misrepresentation of Dale's Cone.) He states that it might be easier to demonstrate the opposite (the social self-confidence hypothesis): that educated people are self-assured and understand the reasons for research so they give honest answers.
Regardless, in the Velvet Glove, Jackman took it a step further: People do not support the policy idea unless they support any means to get to the policy goal. It may be easy to give a “socially correct” answer to the question, but when it comes to taking action, that is a different story; so essentially the answer to the question was a lie, proven when the respondent isn't willing to support any means to the ends.
I’m sure this reflects my telemarketer’s beliefs, that I actually do not support the policy; maybe I’m even a homophobe, so he perceives his rudeness to me as justified. Never thinking for a moment that his call was an annoying interruption, I was too busy to be on the telephone, that I never use the phone for advocacy because I hate being the recipient of such calls. So why would I believe making them would be effective?
A while later the phone rang again, this time it was my other line. I watched the phone for a while, because it never rings. We don’t use it for calls, it is only for DSL and the occasional fax. Who would have the number? Caller ID was flashing a long distance number I didn’t recognize. Should I let the fax fry someone’s eardrum? Curiosity got the best of me, and I picked it up. A robo voice identified some anti-gay marriage organization and said, “do you think marriage should be between one woman and one man only?” I said, “No.” And the robo voice abruptly hung up on me!
Added: wire is back up! Some tweaking on Saturday and I should be back on the grid.
Also: doesn't the do not call registry prevent these types of calls? Or is advocacy an exception?
I said I had been considering switching to TW telephone but how could I if the outage is three weeks? Also that I would have to consider moving to satellite Internet, even if it is slower. It would be cheaper than turbo, and more reliable. I teach online and can't have no service.
Customer service agreed to every demand, and said my service would be restored in 24-48 hours. Shortly afterwards the phone rang, it was a technician. He said he was on his way to my house! YAY. I'm awaiting word that it is fixed. (Fingers crossed.) I'm sure it is a big job, a tree is on the wire.
I put in some effort and my class is coming along fine. What a relief. While I was deeply submerged in design, the phone rang. It was a call from an organization advocating for gay marriage. It wasn't a robo call, but a real person - amazing. The guy on the phone asked me if I support it, and I said "Yes, I do." Then he said he was going to transfer me to my state senator's office so I could tell him to vote in favor of it. I said, "what? Hey, wait a minute, I don't call my senator ever, and I am not about to start now." He seemed shocked, said "really?" and hung up.
What a jerk! I often write letters and email them to my representatives, most recently on 1) animal rights and 2) SUNY2020, but I never call them about anything. Sometimes organizations will send a script that you can customize for your letter and provide links. Did this guy bother to offer anything? No.
I think it may have to do with this being a contentious issue in society, he was making assumptions about someone who isn't pliable. Another perfect example for toleration! One of the criticisms of social science survey research is called the social desirability hypothesis. It states that educated people are good at giving the right answer, but that doesn’t necessarily reflect their actual beliefs. They lie either to be PC or to give the researcher the answer they want to hear.
According to Vogt, there is not a lot of evidence to support the social desirability hypothesis even if it sounds intuitively good. (Kind of like the misrepresentation of Dale's Cone.) He states that it might be easier to demonstrate the opposite (the social self-confidence hypothesis): that educated people are self-assured and understand the reasons for research so they give honest answers.
Regardless, in the Velvet Glove, Jackman took it a step further: People do not support the policy idea unless they support any means to get to the policy goal. It may be easy to give a “socially correct” answer to the question, but when it comes to taking action, that is a different story; so essentially the answer to the question was a lie, proven when the respondent isn't willing to support any means to the ends.
I’m sure this reflects my telemarketer’s beliefs, that I actually do not support the policy; maybe I’m even a homophobe, so he perceives his rudeness to me as justified. Never thinking for a moment that his call was an annoying interruption, I was too busy to be on the telephone, that I never use the phone for advocacy because I hate being the recipient of such calls. So why would I believe making them would be effective?
A while later the phone rang again, this time it was my other line. I watched the phone for a while, because it never rings. We don’t use it for calls, it is only for DSL and the occasional fax. Who would have the number? Caller ID was flashing a long distance number I didn’t recognize. Should I let the fax fry someone’s eardrum? Curiosity got the best of me, and I picked it up. A robo voice identified some anti-gay marriage organization and said, “do you think marriage should be between one woman and one man only?” I said, “No.” And the robo voice abruptly hung up on me!
Added: wire is back up! Some tweaking on Saturday and I should be back on the grid.
Also: doesn't the do not call registry prevent these types of calls? Or is advocacy an exception?
Monday, June 06, 2011
Devolving into "nut job" in regards to Time Warner. My latest email (where I ask for a sooner restoration date than June 14, ask why someone needs to be there when the problem is the wire is down in the road nowhere near the house, and request a commitment on suspending my bill until the service is restored) elicited a response that was copy and paste boilerplate from someone named "Kathy" who has a poor understanding of English.
Also a little burnt out on working on the summer class. I can see there are many nice improvements in the courseware, but it is still a time consuming and at times frustrating process...and my garden is calling me! I did make progress. What a dilemma.
Also a little burnt out on working on the summer class. I can see there are many nice improvements in the courseware, but it is still a time consuming and at times frustrating process...and my garden is calling me! I did make progress. What a dilemma.
The weekend was groovy! I saw many people I had not seen in years. We're all fabulous and fun at 50. Even if I am still tired today, also sore from dancing! That's one thing that has definitely changed. I can still party hearty, but now I need more than one day to recuperate.
Today my summer online class went live. I have training on blackboard on Wednesday and will be working on getting everything in order for the next two weeks, since the official start date in June 20. This is the fourth courseware I've had to learn; my first experience was with Lotus Notes, in 2000. That was upgraded a few times, but the changes were almost seamless, so I'm not including those.
In 2002 I started teaching in the classroom as well as online, and I adopted WebCT as the supplement to my on campus classes, which the university was using for web content for traditional courses. Then, in 2008 we made a major shift, from Lotus Notes to Blackboard for completely online classes, and from WebCT to Blackboard for blended and supplemental courses. That semester was very stressful, and I had to do it during Winter break, since I did not volunteer for the pilot. I also had offered to teach a hybrid course, and that added a lot of work.
Now Blackboard 8 is becoming Blackboard 9. The WebCT to Blackboard transition was not seamless, and there is a steep learning curve for the upgrades within Blackboard. The courseware is very, very different, easily as much as Lotus Notes is not very similar to Blackboard. It's odd that this is true with the same company.
I'm an early adopter with an easy time learning computer-related things and it is forcing a significant redesign. I wonder if that is the reason - the philosophy hypothesizes that instructors won't change much on their own? I could see that as being true but not in my case. I fall more in the camp of being apprehensive when technology gets in the way rather than being a tool.
I didn't want a repeat of Spring '08, so I jumped into the pilot. This way it is a summer project and I am only teaching one class. Since it is the online class, I will really know Blackboard 9 well by the time Fall rolls around and my teaching load is not so light.
Friday, June 03, 2011
I found out my consulting obligation was canceled for tomorrow, and I immediately jumped up, ran outside, and started working! I let Teddy come out with me for a while. I have to have him on a leash, and monitor him closely. He has to be an indoor cat, because his former owner had him declawed shortly before I adopted him. He was five years old, how mean would someone have to be to do that? I'd never have a kitten done either, but doing it to an adult like he was is just plain cruel. The vet who agreed to it needs his or her you know what kicked. It breaks my heart, I wish he could have more freedom. But he was thrilled to be outside, even restricted.
I was thrilled, because the weekend was pretty booked up and I was wondering how I would fit in planting and getting my class ready to go live, along with the consulting and socializing that were on the agenda. Tomorrow evening we are going to a 50th birthday party. It's a sixties theme, complete with costumes required. Bob will be early/mid '60s Beatles, and I am going as late '60s hippy. I will certainly post pictures. I am not sure how many attendees will be hippies, and how many will prefer the mod look of the early '60s; ie, more Hairspray than Hair.
My wig came today, and I was a little apprehensive that it would make me look like a dominatrix or a witch instead of a hippy. The goal is not to be Elvira! So I put it on and snapped a photo, then emailed it to Bob. He responded: "you look as young as you did in college." That was very sweet, if untrue. My salt and pepper ages me, no argument there, and the jet black long wig does make me look younger, although not by 30 years. The effect is definitely hippy, so that's a relief. It's a comfortable look for me, not too far off from my funky taste of my own later teenage and early '20s years in the '70s and '80s.
I have an extensive button collection, which I used to have displayed on the Gully Brook Press website (there is a collecting-themed virtual museum). Unfortunately, I never fully migrated it when AOL hometown vanished, and the photos are on the Iomega disks that I am trying to recover. Anyway, I have several good slogans and a peace symbol to wear.
Here's the prolific little red rosebush, with four roses today!:
Here's the vintage pink rosebush, just about ready to bloom:
My trusty tiller is rarin' to go (actually took this picture when I was done, but whatev):
Still have to fence it and mulch, but not a bad day's work:
I read this blog post in the TU yesterday and while I second most of the insights on container gardening, as a long-time organic gardener, I couldn't disagree more with the part about plant food. No, no, no! Commercial chemical fertilizer is not the way to go! Get thee one of these:
And one of these:
Or alternatively, make friends with someone who has one or more of these:
And say goodbye to the dark side!
I still have some basil seeds to plant. They came free with Triscuits. This was true last year too. I planted them, and the basil was great! So this year I accumulated four packs. I also have to water everything before going out to dinner, so I better get to it! I'd close with TGIF but I always remember what my mother says, don't wish your life away and enjoy every day, not just weekends. As I was raking the dirt in my garden earlier today, I was thinking how much I love not having to wait until the weekend or after my job during the week to work outside. Sure, at times adjuncting, freelancing and consulting have been a scramble and a juggle, but taking that risk, making that life change - it was the best thing I ever did.
Late last night I submitted a query for my latest non-fiction story, and this morning, the editor emailed me that she'd let me know in a month. I was surprised to hear from her so quickly, and glad that it will take a month for a commitment, because I have so many other pressing matters (my summer class goes live on Monday [this almost requires an entire ranting stream of consciousness post all its own]; annual faculty activity report is due soon; need to spend time on analysis for my arts-in-education research; Iomega and S'ville Internet sagas continue). If it was already a sale I wouldn't be able to resist sitting right down and writing it.
It might even trump gardening. Or maybe not. I'm not sure. Good thing I don't have to decide! Yesterday afternoon I got the garden ready for rototilling. That's a bigger job than it should be, because a more organized person would have cleaned it up in the fall. I almost never do, since the end of the growing season is bittersweet and it seems a chore. In the spring, it is a joy. So I have to take down the fence, yank out the stakes, remove last year's organic leftovers. This always involves pruning the "vintage" rosebush, because some branches are tangled in the fence.
I label it vintage, but I have no idea how old the rosebush is. It was here when we bought the house in 1987. It was big and old then and it is bigger and older now. It could have been here since the house was built (1902) or at least young, but my guess is that it was planted in about 1940. That's when the owner at that time moved the kitchen downstairs to the basement, added the bathroom, and I assume put in the ornamentals. This rosebush is dark pink and beautiful. It blooms in June. I can hardly wait.
There was a burdock growing near the pink rosebush, which I cut down but did not dig out. I removed the stems and put them (and sand and possibly a stray bug) in a plastic bag in the refrigerator. Maybe I will make cardone on Sunday. (Have dinner plans until then.) Several years ago, we put in a small red rosebush near the street. It's a survivor of the road rehab of '09, and as I was relocating the grapevine that annually tries to overtake the front fence, I saw that the little rosebush has three lovely roses right now. Have to get a pic!
I had not cut my fingernails yet, and one broke while I was collecting the old mulch in a much bucket. I always wear gloves (and long sleeves, long pants, a hat and sunglasses) but they were so long it was unavoidable. The break is too short, but luckily, not painful. So I cut the rest down to a more civilized length. The reason I resist, even though I know it is going to happen, is that filing them afterwards so they won't catch on everything takes forever. I just can't stand high maintenance.
This afternoon I plan to rototill and plant cucumber, string bean and basil seeds. This is perfect weather for heavy outdoor work. And shorter fingernails will be appreciated!
It might even trump gardening. Or maybe not. I'm not sure. Good thing I don't have to decide! Yesterday afternoon I got the garden ready for rototilling. That's a bigger job than it should be, because a more organized person would have cleaned it up in the fall. I almost never do, since the end of the growing season is bittersweet and it seems a chore. In the spring, it is a joy. So I have to take down the fence, yank out the stakes, remove last year's organic leftovers. This always involves pruning the "vintage" rosebush, because some branches are tangled in the fence.
I label it vintage, but I have no idea how old the rosebush is. It was here when we bought the house in 1987. It was big and old then and it is bigger and older now. It could have been here since the house was built (1902) or at least young, but my guess is that it was planted in about 1940. That's when the owner at that time moved the kitchen downstairs to the basement, added the bathroom, and I assume put in the ornamentals. This rosebush is dark pink and beautiful. It blooms in June. I can hardly wait.
There was a burdock growing near the pink rosebush, which I cut down but did not dig out. I removed the stems and put them (and sand and possibly a stray bug) in a plastic bag in the refrigerator. Maybe I will make cardone on Sunday. (Have dinner plans until then.) Several years ago, we put in a small red rosebush near the street. It's a survivor of the road rehab of '09, and as I was relocating the grapevine that annually tries to overtake the front fence, I saw that the little rosebush has three lovely roses right now. Have to get a pic!
I had not cut my fingernails yet, and one broke while I was collecting the old mulch in a much bucket. I always wear gloves (and long sleeves, long pants, a hat and sunglasses) but they were so long it was unavoidable. The break is too short, but luckily, not painful. So I cut the rest down to a more civilized length. The reason I resist, even though I know it is going to happen, is that filing them afterwards so they won't catch on everything takes forever. I just can't stand high maintenance.
This afternoon I plan to rototill and plant cucumber, string bean and basil seeds. This is perfect weather for heavy outdoor work. And shorter fingernails will be appreciated!
Thursday, June 02, 2011
It's a beautiful day - sunny but cool, a little windy. I have a long To Do list, in the hope of being able to work outside this afternoon and/or tomorrow. I want to rototill and get my seeds in. It was far too hot to consider it yesterday or the day before; it was too hot to accomplish much of anything else either.
I got up early (for me), already was working away for a while. I had the window to my office open, and the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze was peaceful and inspiring. Suddenly the air filled with loud music. The guys who are intermittently painting the house next door must have arrived. Now, I understand that some people work better with music, and that an outdoor project in particular may lend itself to it.
But it ruined my train of thought! I could not focus on anything but Cream, Sunshine of Your Love. It's not a band or song that I dislike, that isn't the problem. I prefer natural sound, and when I am alone (as I am, except for the animals, almost every day in the summer), I only occasionally play a CD and never have the radio or television on. The painters must be listening to a radio station, because now there are annoying voices chattering. That's worse than a song, even one that's an earwig.
Something has prompted Sophie to start barking, either the radio or more likely she can see someone up on a ladder from the living room window. She hates that as much as the sounds bother me. Sam hasn't joined her, although he throws an isolated woof now and then when there is a sudden noise caused by equipment. What was that? A power scraper? I had to close my office window. Bye-bye leaves rustling in the wind. Sophie has quieted, but I can still hear the radio, muted so I can't quite make out the song. Can't decide if that is worse. Sigh.
Added: Is it me or do all "classic" rock songs sound like Sunshine of Your Love through a closed window?
I got up early (for me), already was working away for a while. I had the window to my office open, and the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze was peaceful and inspiring. Suddenly the air filled with loud music. The guys who are intermittently painting the house next door must have arrived. Now, I understand that some people work better with music, and that an outdoor project in particular may lend itself to it.
But it ruined my train of thought! I could not focus on anything but Cream, Sunshine of Your Love. It's not a band or song that I dislike, that isn't the problem. I prefer natural sound, and when I am alone (as I am, except for the animals, almost every day in the summer), I only occasionally play a CD and never have the radio or television on. The painters must be listening to a radio station, because now there are annoying voices chattering. That's worse than a song, even one that's an earwig.
Something has prompted Sophie to start barking, either the radio or more likely she can see someone up on a ladder from the living room window. She hates that as much as the sounds bother me. Sam hasn't joined her, although he throws an isolated woof now and then when there is a sudden noise caused by equipment. What was that? A power scraper? I had to close my office window. Bye-bye leaves rustling in the wind. Sophie has quieted, but I can still hear the radio, muted so I can't quite make out the song. Can't decide if that is worse. Sigh.
Added: Is it me or do all "classic" rock songs sound like Sunshine of Your Love through a closed window?
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
That was the storm? I think I will still have to go out and water my plants, it hardly wet the ground. The plants are loving this weather, though.
Tomorrow's agenda includes rototilling and planting the seeds in the garden. It is supposed to be cooler, so I'm psyched.
I often save time consuming technical projects until summer break. Today I have been aggravating myself with my ancient Iomega zip drive. It isn't the "click of death" but it may as well be. I've tried (almost) everything and I am now contemplating how to get the files off the disks. A couple years ago I bought a new power adapter for it. I don't want to invest in another obsolete drive at this point - if they were cheap I might consider it, but they aren't. It's pathetic. And frustrating. I could pay Iomega to transfer them for me, but they won't even give me an estimate without looking at the disks, and I am very reluctant to surrender them to the company when they manufactured this temperamental device.
Tomorrow's agenda includes rototilling and planting the seeds in the garden. It is supposed to be cooler, so I'm psyched.
I often save time consuming technical projects until summer break. Today I have been aggravating myself with my ancient Iomega zip drive. It isn't the "click of death" but it may as well be. I've tried (almost) everything and I am now contemplating how to get the files off the disks. A couple years ago I bought a new power adapter for it. I don't want to invest in another obsolete drive at this point - if they were cheap I might consider it, but they aren't. It's pathetic. And frustrating. I could pay Iomega to transfer them for me, but they won't even give me an estimate without looking at the disks, and I am very reluctant to surrender them to the company when they manufactured this temperamental device.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Getting back to routine after the long weekend in Samsonville. The electricity was working when we arrived, but the wire for the cable was laying across the road near our driveway; a short distance away, between our house and the road, there was a branch down. I wanted to work on the computers, to test whether my mother's can be converted to wireless so we can eliminate the high speed lightening rod that has been the source of all the computer frying, but that isn't possible without Internet! So I called it in, and the robo voice said they were aware of the outage and would call me when it was fixed.
On Sunday, I received the call, so I rebooted the modem. No dice. I walked back out to the road, and the wire was still laying on the ground. Must be they fixed the widespread problem (and it was widespread, Central Hudson and Verizon trucks were everywhere, all sorts of trees were down with dangerous-looking wire draped all over the place), but individual houses that were out had not been addressed. So I called again, and the answer is that they are not going to fix it until June 14! Yesterday I saw my brother, and his is also out - with the same response from TW.
He has all-in-one, but I only have Road Runner. I'm also only there on weekends, but for his household, that means no phone, no television, no Internet for nearly three weeks. Luckily where he lives, cell service works, but at my house, it doesn't. He said it will be good to have television cut off for that long, although he resents having to pay for it. I told the very nice woman who was on the phone that I am not paying for turbo a la carte (sixty bucks a month) for three weeks. She said, of course you will receive a credit but I doubt that is true without me calling and going berserk. Regardless, I'm not happy that my mother will be without Internet for that long, so I am going to give them a couple business days and then call back. Sad to say, sometimes going nut job is the only option when you want results.
In terms of the weekend, though, it was fine to not have email. Being "off the grid" has its advantages. We took the cover off the pool, and did a lot of visiting. I conducted the interview for my pending nonfiction story. I don't have television in Samsonville, and the very nice woman was incredulous. When I mentioned having turbo and not being willing to pay that exorbitant fee when there is no service, she said, "why don't you have TV? It would only cost a little more." I told her even in my "main" Castleton house, I only have up to channel 20. Believe me, that is still too much television. She wanted to know, what do I do instead of watch it? I said, I read, I work outside, I write, I draw, I cook, I play with my animals. I daydream. And of course, I have computers and a DVD player so it's hardly a big deal.
Anyway, yesterday I went to the parade in West Shokan, as I often do. It was great, as always. But no 'net meant no posting. Besides tinkering with the wireless, I intended to upload some pictures to facebook for Memorial Day.
I wrote about it in 2008 (which might be the last time I attended, since in '09 and '10, Bob was convalescing). It doesn't change a lot from year to year, and I have to make the same comment about the band as I did three years ago. This year, my father approached the band teacher in advance and said the American Legion had a special request. Could the band play for the entire route? The teacher said no! The kids have to do three parades in one day (it is a huge district in terms of area and there are three towns consolidated) and they would be too tired if they played the whole time! The distance from the general store (where they step off) to the town offices (where they have the ceremony) is not even a mile. I walked it and biked it as a kid several times every day. Something is definitely wrong if 14-17 year old teenagers cannot march and play musical instruments for that distance. Granted, yesterday was hot, but I suspect the truth is they do not know how to play. They can't be that frail and out of shape. "Insiders" wonder why communities become skeptical and non supportive of their local public school - I say it's no mystery. Music Man all the way!
My father told us that he wanted to say "I pay for your salary, the uniforms, the instruments, the buses that truck the kids over, and the gasoline to fill those buses" and "when I was 14 I could run over High Point Mountain and back and still have energy for the parade" but of course he didn't. When he was my age, he might have - but he has mellowed considerably with age! Funny to me also was that he referenced High Point, as when he was 14 he did not live anywhere near it.
I had to crop the band photo. My fingernail made a white streak at the top of the frame. I have very long fingernails. They are real, and I don't paint them. They grow fast and are extremely strong. My thumbnails are so strong I could use them as screwdrivers. My nails mostly don't get in my way - I can type and garden and wash dishes. My rule is, when one breaks, I cut the others. Generally that works, but occasionally, none break and I start getting Howard Hughesy. I notice students mesmerized, watching my hands (since I tend to talk with them) -- perhaps thinking "what a weird lady." Then they do start to get in the way, as in this picture. The risk of a painful break increases. I think it is time to get the scissors.
On Sunday, I received the call, so I rebooted the modem. No dice. I walked back out to the road, and the wire was still laying on the ground. Must be they fixed the widespread problem (and it was widespread, Central Hudson and Verizon trucks were everywhere, all sorts of trees were down with dangerous-looking wire draped all over the place), but individual houses that were out had not been addressed. So I called again, and the answer is that they are not going to fix it until June 14! Yesterday I saw my brother, and his is also out - with the same response from TW.
He has all-in-one, but I only have Road Runner. I'm also only there on weekends, but for his household, that means no phone, no television, no Internet for nearly three weeks. Luckily where he lives, cell service works, but at my house, it doesn't. He said it will be good to have television cut off for that long, although he resents having to pay for it. I told the very nice woman who was on the phone that I am not paying for turbo a la carte (sixty bucks a month) for three weeks. She said, of course you will receive a credit but I doubt that is true without me calling and going berserk. Regardless, I'm not happy that my mother will be without Internet for that long, so I am going to give them a couple business days and then call back. Sad to say, sometimes going nut job is the only option when you want results.
In terms of the weekend, though, it was fine to not have email. Being "off the grid" has its advantages. We took the cover off the pool, and did a lot of visiting. I conducted the interview for my pending nonfiction story. I don't have television in Samsonville, and the very nice woman was incredulous. When I mentioned having turbo and not being willing to pay that exorbitant fee when there is no service, she said, "why don't you have TV? It would only cost a little more." I told her even in my "main" Castleton house, I only have up to channel 20. Believe me, that is still too much television. She wanted to know, what do I do instead of watch it? I said, I read, I work outside, I write, I draw, I cook, I play with my animals. I daydream. And of course, I have computers and a DVD player so it's hardly a big deal.
Anyway, yesterday I went to the parade in West Shokan, as I often do. It was great, as always. But no 'net meant no posting. Besides tinkering with the wireless, I intended to upload some pictures to facebook for Memorial Day.
I wrote about it in 2008 (which might be the last time I attended, since in '09 and '10, Bob was convalescing). It doesn't change a lot from year to year, and I have to make the same comment about the band as I did three years ago. This year, my father approached the band teacher in advance and said the American Legion had a special request. Could the band play for the entire route? The teacher said no! The kids have to do three parades in one day (it is a huge district in terms of area and there are three towns consolidated) and they would be too tired if they played the whole time! The distance from the general store (where they step off) to the town offices (where they have the ceremony) is not even a mile. I walked it and biked it as a kid several times every day. Something is definitely wrong if 14-17 year old teenagers cannot march and play musical instruments for that distance. Granted, yesterday was hot, but I suspect the truth is they do not know how to play. They can't be that frail and out of shape. "Insiders" wonder why communities become skeptical and non supportive of their local public school - I say it's no mystery. Music Man all the way!
My father told us that he wanted to say "I pay for your salary, the uniforms, the instruments, the buses that truck the kids over, and the gasoline to fill those buses" and "when I was 14 I could run over High Point Mountain and back and still have energy for the parade" but of course he didn't. When he was my age, he might have - but he has mellowed considerably with age! Funny to me also was that he referenced High Point, as when he was 14 he did not live anywhere near it.
I had to crop the band photo. My fingernail made a white streak at the top of the frame. I have very long fingernails. They are real, and I don't paint them. They grow fast and are extremely strong. My thumbnails are so strong I could use them as screwdrivers. My nails mostly don't get in my way - I can type and garden and wash dishes. My rule is, when one breaks, I cut the others. Generally that works, but occasionally, none break and I start getting Howard Hughesy. I notice students mesmerized, watching my hands (since I tend to talk with them) -- perhaps thinking "what a weird lady." Then they do start to get in the way, as in this picture. The risk of a painful break increases. I think it is time to get the scissors.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
I decorate the front porch with 2-4 variants of this hanging basket every year
I can hardly wait for the first tomato!
Teddy is my first cat who likes catnip
This is to honor Sophie and Sam and all my wonderful dogs of the past (although they much prefer the veggies)
Forsythia on their way to transplant in Samsonville
The street rehab left us with a triangle near the front door (Sophie sniffs that quasi-tacky butterfly every time she goes out on her leash; she mistakes it for a flower)
These chives are the first sign of spring annually
Next week: rototilling and seed planting! But right now, the power in back in S'ville...so away we go.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Ugh. This will definitely impact our going to Samsonville today, if our house is involved (as it usually is). One thing I want to do while I am there is sort out the fried computer situation. My sister, bless her, has already fixed about 90 percent of it. But I'll still need power to finish the job! Unlike here in the Capital District, it rarely takes just a few hours to restore the grid.
The other agenda item for the long weekend is research for the non-fiction story I have in the works. I don't need power for that, and the interview is set for Sunday, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Yesterday after my lament I buckled down and started checking off to do list items. I felt a lot better after I did it. In the back of my mind, I was hoping to go out in the late afternoon and start working on the plants, but then the tornado warning came, and I decided hail would hurt the seedlings - why risk it? We did have a terrific thunderstorm very late at night, but nothing else, so I suppose I could have done some planting. Just as well, though - guess what is on the agenda for today? So excited! (Pictures are on the way, stay tuned.)
A couple of days ago I had a strange facebook experience. I received one of those notifications about a friend's birthday. What's weird about that? This person died in October. Not only was the message a sad reminder, but it sparked me to think about her facebook page, continuing to meander along, on autopilot...leading me to contemplate an entire technical world structure without the actual people, going into eternity.
Added: speaking of fb, I decided to put out a call for information to see if the electric is out in S'ville. When I didn't get an immediate response, I thought, "guess that's my answer!" But then someone did respond: Yes, it is. That ability to gather information not easily available by any other means is one reason I am not among the fb detractors. Then I went to the Central Hudson website and found this! The difference between the yellow and orange is only because of density of population - I'm sure every house in the colored areas is out. Pretty cool, even for an unhappy answer. (Unfortunately, if you were in the colored area - you would have no way to see it without electricity, since there is no guarantee your smart phone will get a signal. Lots of folks do have generators, though.)
The other agenda item for the long weekend is research for the non-fiction story I have in the works. I don't need power for that, and the interview is set for Sunday, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Yesterday after my lament I buckled down and started checking off to do list items. I felt a lot better after I did it. In the back of my mind, I was hoping to go out in the late afternoon and start working on the plants, but then the tornado warning came, and I decided hail would hurt the seedlings - why risk it? We did have a terrific thunderstorm very late at night, but nothing else, so I suppose I could have done some planting. Just as well, though - guess what is on the agenda for today? So excited! (Pictures are on the way, stay tuned.)
A couple of days ago I had a strange facebook experience. I received one of those notifications about a friend's birthday. What's weird about that? This person died in October. Not only was the message a sad reminder, but it sparked me to think about her facebook page, continuing to meander along, on autopilot...leading me to contemplate an entire technical world structure without the actual people, going into eternity.
Added: speaking of fb, I decided to put out a call for information to see if the electric is out in S'ville. When I didn't get an immediate response, I thought, "guess that's my answer!" But then someone did respond: Yes, it is. That ability to gather information not easily available by any other means is one reason I am not among the fb detractors. Then I went to the Central Hudson website and found this! The difference between the yellow and orange is only because of density of population - I'm sure every house in the colored areas is out. Pretty cool, even for an unhappy answer. (Unfortunately, if you were in the colored area - you would have no way to see it without electricity, since there is no guarantee your smart phone will get a signal. Lots of folks do have generators, though.)
Thursday, May 26, 2011
We both were feeling "blue" over the disappointing dinner on our anniversary. That seems kind of shallow, I mean, who cares? In the scheme of things it isn't important. But, we rarely take days off from work completely. Working at home, in such a flexible fashion means that work is always there, the line is rarely drawn. So a stolen weekday off after the semester's end is much anticipated. And Bob's job is very, very demanding. Finally, '09 and '10 for him were filled with surgery and recovery, especially at this time of year. Both summers were impacted significantly.
I decided that we had to do something fun and life-affirming last night. So we went to Becker's in East Greenbush and bought the annuals! Bob said, "this is like going to a botanical garden." (Or, he added, like Magic Wings.)
Worked like a charm, Now the problem is that I want to go outside and plant them! Most years, I wait to buy plants until I've rototilled, and I target that for shortly after Memorial Day. My grandfather said that the ground isn't warm enough for tomato plants until then, and I always follow that rule. I see others planting much earlier, but occasionally they lose their more delicate seedlings (such as basil) when we have a cold snap. I never do, and my plants always catch up. Another piece of wisdom that works: plants seeds when the moon is getting bigger, as it grows toward the full moon, not after the full moon, as it is gradually getting smaller.
I make sure I clear my plate of deadlines and spend two full days working outside in early June, assuming the weather is right. I rototill, get my plants, and put them in. After the seeds are up, I take another day to mulch to prevent weeds and keep in moisture.
However, jumping the gun to combat blueness has created a distraction! I am not concerned about putting the plants in a couple days before Memorial Day - it's close enough, and it isn't predicted to be cold anyway. But I didn't clear my plate! And this is a Samsonville weekend, so I can't catch up then.
This year I'm going to grow something I've never tried before: Eggplant. My sister calls it "the official Giuliano favorite vegetable." That's true. If polled, more than a few of us would list eggplant parmesan as our favorite food, me included, and the rest would say it was top five or higher. The plants I got are white eggplant = I'm especially excited. I only grow things in my garden patch that are winners in terms of productivity, so I focus on cucumbers and green beans in the ground. (Last year I started using Page Seeds after years of buying from Seeds of Change. Not to take anything away from SoC (a wonderful vendor), but Page is local/upstate and the germination rate was unbelievable! The plants were also very hearty with high yields. Highly recommended.) I plant everything else in containers, and that is the plan for the eggplant. My sister-in-law had great success with container eggplant a few years ago. Uncle Bud calls eggplant "the commune plant" because so many kinds of bugs love to eat the leaves. I'm hoping the container approach will help me win that battle without chemicals.
That same SIL emailed me last night. We have a sort of family community garden at my parents' farm. It has the blazing sun that produces high yields, and space enough to have a huge fenced-in area. She let me know my brother tilled it, and it is ready to go! Among other things, I will plant the leftover cucumber seeds and zucchini. Zucchini parmesan is pretty darn good too! I know it has the rep of being overly productive, but to me, that's a feature, not a bug. It does not grow well in Castleton - soil has too much clay and the yard is too shady, but in Samsonville, Bob could almost open the stand of his daydreams.
I decided that we had to do something fun and life-affirming last night. So we went to Becker's in East Greenbush and bought the annuals! Bob said, "this is like going to a botanical garden." (Or, he added, like Magic Wings.)
Worked like a charm, Now the problem is that I want to go outside and plant them! Most years, I wait to buy plants until I've rototilled, and I target that for shortly after Memorial Day. My grandfather said that the ground isn't warm enough for tomato plants until then, and I always follow that rule. I see others planting much earlier, but occasionally they lose their more delicate seedlings (such as basil) when we have a cold snap. I never do, and my plants always catch up. Another piece of wisdom that works: plants seeds when the moon is getting bigger, as it grows toward the full moon, not after the full moon, as it is gradually getting smaller.
I make sure I clear my plate of deadlines and spend two full days working outside in early June, assuming the weather is right. I rototill, get my plants, and put them in. After the seeds are up, I take another day to mulch to prevent weeds and keep in moisture.
However, jumping the gun to combat blueness has created a distraction! I am not concerned about putting the plants in a couple days before Memorial Day - it's close enough, and it isn't predicted to be cold anyway. But I didn't clear my plate! And this is a Samsonville weekend, so I can't catch up then.
This year I'm going to grow something I've never tried before: Eggplant. My sister calls it "the official Giuliano favorite vegetable." That's true. If polled, more than a few of us would list eggplant parmesan as our favorite food, me included, and the rest would say it was top five or higher. The plants I got are white eggplant = I'm especially excited. I only grow things in my garden patch that are winners in terms of productivity, so I focus on cucumbers and green beans in the ground. (Last year I started using Page Seeds after years of buying from Seeds of Change. Not to take anything away from SoC (a wonderful vendor), but Page is local/upstate and the germination rate was unbelievable! The plants were also very hearty with high yields. Highly recommended.) I plant everything else in containers, and that is the plan for the eggplant. My sister-in-law had great success with container eggplant a few years ago. Uncle Bud calls eggplant "the commune plant" because so many kinds of bugs love to eat the leaves. I'm hoping the container approach will help me win that battle without chemicals.
That same SIL emailed me last night. We have a sort of family community garden at my parents' farm. It has the blazing sun that produces high yields, and space enough to have a huge fenced-in area. She let me know my brother tilled it, and it is ready to go! Among other things, I will plant the leftover cucumber seeds and zucchini. Zucchini parmesan is pretty darn good too! I know it has the rep of being overly productive, but to me, that's a feature, not a bug. It does not grow well in Castleton - soil has too much clay and the yard is too shady, but in Samsonville, Bob could almost open the stand of his daydreams.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Our anniversary yesterday was quite an adventure. The Norman Rockwell museum was great. Something I wasn't expecting was that it is so much more about his work than about his life. I knew his illustration and art would be the major focus, but I thought there would be more artifacts that related to his life in general, and that wasn't the case at all. Maybe because his sons are all still living? Regardless, the tour guide was excellent and the experience overall was very satisfying.
Afterwards, our intention was to eat at the Red Lion Inn. We stopped in a little shop as we were walking from the car to the restaurant. There were '60s buttons on display in the store window. We are going to a friend's 50th birthday in a couple of weeks, and it is a costume / theme party - the sixties. We bought a few buttons (they will make great "flare" for the party, and I collect them besides), and headed for the Red Lion Inn. The walk was maybe a half-block at most - during that time, the sky opened up and soaked us! I can't overstate the rain - within seconds it was a downpour - even our shoes and socks were dripping. At the door of the restaurant, we decided that we couldn't sit there and enjoy it in that condition. So we took a "rain check," went back to the car and came home. What a disappointment!
We dried off, changed our clothes, and went to the Carolina House. It's a favorite place of ours, and not too far away. I'm not sure why we didn't call first, because it is closed on Tuesdays. From there we decided to cut our losses since it was getting late, and just go and get pizza. We eat in fancy places often, so didn't mind the downgrade (that much). We ordered steamers as an appetizer. The clams were spoiled! Seriously, they were so disgusting they sparked an almost immediate gag reflex. Then, the server told us that they made a mistake in preparing the pizza so it had to be made over. We didn't mind waiting, were not really in a hurry, but they must have been nervous about the various problems and didn't cook the pie enough, so the vegetables in the topping were crunchy. (I won't name the pizzeria, because it is always excellent and we love it, so I don't want to trash it for this one bad experience.)
So after the museum the day was a comedy of errors. But, I remarked - it's better than being in the hospital! That's where Bob was two years ago.
It's a beautiful day today! I would love to be gardening.
Afterwards, our intention was to eat at the Red Lion Inn. We stopped in a little shop as we were walking from the car to the restaurant. There were '60s buttons on display in the store window. We are going to a friend's 50th birthday in a couple of weeks, and it is a costume / theme party - the sixties. We bought a few buttons (they will make great "flare" for the party, and I collect them besides), and headed for the Red Lion Inn. The walk was maybe a half-block at most - during that time, the sky opened up and soaked us! I can't overstate the rain - within seconds it was a downpour - even our shoes and socks were dripping. At the door of the restaurant, we decided that we couldn't sit there and enjoy it in that condition. So we took a "rain check," went back to the car and came home. What a disappointment!
We dried off, changed our clothes, and went to the Carolina House. It's a favorite place of ours, and not too far away. I'm not sure why we didn't call first, because it is closed on Tuesdays. From there we decided to cut our losses since it was getting late, and just go and get pizza. We eat in fancy places often, so didn't mind the downgrade (that much). We ordered steamers as an appetizer. The clams were spoiled! Seriously, they were so disgusting they sparked an almost immediate gag reflex. Then, the server told us that they made a mistake in preparing the pizza so it had to be made over. We didn't mind waiting, were not really in a hurry, but they must have been nervous about the various problems and didn't cook the pie enough, so the vegetables in the topping were crunchy. (I won't name the pizzeria, because it is always excellent and we love it, so I don't want to trash it for this one bad experience.)
So after the museum the day was a comedy of errors. But, I remarked - it's better than being in the hospital! That's where Bob was two years ago.
It's a beautiful day today! I would love to be gardening.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Plagiarism almost always results in some unpleasant email exchanges. Invariably, no matter what action has been taken, the student tries to get the penalty lessened by one degree. So if they received a failing grade on the assignment, they argue to have it count a little more. If the final course grade was lowered significantly, they try to persuade me to just drop it one letter grade. If they failed the class, they argue to get a low passing grade, even a D (last resort) in the class. If they are reported to Undergraduate Studies, they beg to just fail without being reported. And if they get the worst sanction of all - referral to Judicial Affairs - instead they argue to be reported to Undergraduate Studies only.
I'm completely non-negotiable on this topic, and to be honest, there are some students in my classes who have argued with me passionately when we cover academic dishonesty. A good number are offended over my objectivist views, really protest and probably think I am crazy. (Maybe that's why I'm "weird.") Then, the students who are caught red-handed refuse the label of unethical and don't like being called on it. They don't seem to believe it reflects a character flaw - after the initial denial (they stop when they know the evidence cannot be refuted), they say it's the first time and once that falls flat, that it's expedient or understandable or no biggie, not a symptom of a bigger (profound) problem. Quick! Go to RMP and write that I'm incompetent and cruel.
Usually the violator shuts up or dries their tears after a volley and goes away but occasionally there is one who continues to push it. Mostly this happens when I have chosen one of the lower level (in my class) sanctions, which generally means course failure with no referral. That's my usual path for borderline cases.
This approach comes in two varieties: schmoozers, the sales rep types, or self-righteous, the arrogant types. In the hope of what, I wonder? Hurting my feelings? Getting me to concede? I've one such student now, unfortunately not someone who is trying to win me with flattery. (That wouldn't work either, but it does make me feel a lot less pissed off.)
An odd feature of this incident is that it shares something with a long-ago case that caused consternation at that time, and then again, recently (as well as sparking a really nasty comment on a post). They are the only times in the 20 or so times when I've detected cheating where the student would have gotten the bad final course grade anyway, without having to be sanctioned for plagiarism, so technically they didn't fail due to academic dishonesty. That factored into my decision to not refer the case to the university for review and additional penalties. No need. Maybe I should have, in both cases?
The condescending missives I've received drip with outrage and finger pointing. Oh yeah, I'm the one who is out of line. I suppose it is easier to be mad at me, than to take responsibility. Unfortunately, this is one of those times when I can't elaborate with lots of details for a long time, if ever. I would dearly love to copy and paste the correspondence here to record it, but that would be unethical.
Suffice to say, when something like this happens, I ponder why the student is trying to push my buttons? It is possible they do not realize that they should go away and thank their lucky stars, because I always have an excellent "paper trail" and if ruffled, I may be forced to resort to a worse penalty than the one I imposed?
PS I hate to be writing this. I wanted to put the semester to bed, and move on. And honestly, complaining about awful students makes it seem as if I think poorly of a lot of students, which isn't true at all. One of my constant sources of frustration - and I know the same is true for other faculty - is how much time the tiny minority of bad students take up, and how little time there is to devote to the bright lights.
I don't necessarily mean "A" students when I describe them as bright lights, either. Oh sure, A students make up the largest proportion of wonderful students. (But, not all A students are wonderful.) What I mean is, most students are great, whether they are A students or C students. I like them a lot; they have much to offer. The students who are working with me on my research are shining examples of young people who make me proud. Cases such as the one I am describing here are rare, thankfully. Unfortunately, though, they are not completely absent; I catch about one per year. I can't just look the other way, as I know some do. That would be shirking my responsibility.
Also, in my experience, the A and B students outnumber the C and D students by a lot. That may not be true in all classes, not sure. Regardless, the A students who are so smart and a pleasure, as well as the B and C students who may need a bit of extra help but deserve it, do not get any where near the attention as the total slackers and the cheaters. Is that always true, at any level of education?
I'm completely non-negotiable on this topic, and to be honest, there are some students in my classes who have argued with me passionately when we cover academic dishonesty. A good number are offended over my objectivist views, really protest and probably think I am crazy. (Maybe that's why I'm "weird.") Then, the students who are caught red-handed refuse the label of unethical and don't like being called on it. They don't seem to believe it reflects a character flaw - after the initial denial (they stop when they know the evidence cannot be refuted), they say it's the first time and once that falls flat, that it's expedient or understandable or no biggie, not a symptom of a bigger (profound) problem. Quick! Go to RMP and write that I'm incompetent and cruel.
Usually the violator shuts up or dries their tears after a volley and goes away but occasionally there is one who continues to push it. Mostly this happens when I have chosen one of the lower level (in my class) sanctions, which generally means course failure with no referral. That's my usual path for borderline cases.
This approach comes in two varieties: schmoozers, the sales rep types, or self-righteous, the arrogant types. In the hope of what, I wonder? Hurting my feelings? Getting me to concede? I've one such student now, unfortunately not someone who is trying to win me with flattery. (That wouldn't work either, but it does make me feel a lot less pissed off.)
An odd feature of this incident is that it shares something with a long-ago case that caused consternation at that time, and then again, recently (as well as sparking a really nasty comment on a post). They are the only times in the 20 or so times when I've detected cheating where the student would have gotten the bad final course grade anyway, without having to be sanctioned for plagiarism, so technically they didn't fail due to academic dishonesty. That factored into my decision to not refer the case to the university for review and additional penalties. No need. Maybe I should have, in both cases?
The condescending missives I've received drip with outrage and finger pointing. Oh yeah, I'm the one who is out of line. I suppose it is easier to be mad at me, than to take responsibility. Unfortunately, this is one of those times when I can't elaborate with lots of details for a long time, if ever. I would dearly love to copy and paste the correspondence here to record it, but that would be unethical.
Suffice to say, when something like this happens, I ponder why the student is trying to push my buttons? It is possible they do not realize that they should go away and thank their lucky stars, because I always have an excellent "paper trail" and if ruffled, I may be forced to resort to a worse penalty than the one I imposed?
PS I hate to be writing this. I wanted to put the semester to bed, and move on. And honestly, complaining about awful students makes it seem as if I think poorly of a lot of students, which isn't true at all. One of my constant sources of frustration - and I know the same is true for other faculty - is how much time the tiny minority of bad students take up, and how little time there is to devote to the bright lights.
I don't necessarily mean "A" students when I describe them as bright lights, either. Oh sure, A students make up the largest proportion of wonderful students. (But, not all A students are wonderful.) What I mean is, most students are great, whether they are A students or C students. I like them a lot; they have much to offer. The students who are working with me on my research are shining examples of young people who make me proud. Cases such as the one I am describing here are rare, thankfully. Unfortunately, though, they are not completely absent; I catch about one per year. I can't just look the other way, as I know some do. That would be shirking my responsibility.
Also, in my experience, the A and B students outnumber the C and D students by a lot. That may not be true in all classes, not sure. Regardless, the A students who are so smart and a pleasure, as well as the B and C students who may need a bit of extra help but deserve it, do not get any where near the attention as the total slackers and the cheaters. Is that always true, at any level of education?
They are exiting? Not before taking the trees and branches across from my house. There was a crew here all day. I'm not complaining, except about the racket. That's one of the hazards of working from home so much. It can be beautiful, peaceful, birdsong the only sound (admittedly punctured occasionally by one or both of my buddies joyously barking). Or it can be VERY annoying - someone running a chainsaw, lawn mower, wood splitter all day, playing music at high volume, revving a motorcycle engine constantly or screaming while riding downhill in the winter (the hill behind my house is the best).
I like to do most work in natural sound. That's what I call it instead of silence. Years ago when I was studying for the GREs or something else high stakes such as comprehensive exams (a one day cram session, typically me) it was one of those days noise-wise - and I did something completely out of character, opened the window in my office and yelled outside to shut up!
Anyway, I remember a couple of weeks ago there was an article in the TU (advocate section I think) about people freaking over trees being cut. Admittedly, the picture did make it look pretty drastic, but I can't say I mind. It isn't that I don't like trees because I do. I love wilderness of all kinds, to the point that even though bugs hate me, I hardly ever kill them; I try to live in harmony with things others seek to exterminate. (Hardly ever rather than never because with my history sometimes I have no choice; it is self-defense. I apologise for it as the gardeners did in Atwood's In the Year of the Flood.)
The reason is because when the weather is bad, I am so grateful when the electricity stays on. This really hit home yesterday, when I was re-organizing the shed. (An aside, years ago we bought a Rubbermaid shed. Everything about our architectural footprint is small, the shed fits in perfectly. You know how sometimes you buy something and are uncertain whether it will be worth it? Well, that Rubbermaid shed has been worth ten times what we paid.) Back to spring cleaning. Something that was in the front of the shed is a kerosene heater. We had to buy it last time there was a major power outage that lasted a while. We don't lose our electricity all that often in Castleton, but it is routine in Samsonville. It is pretty rare for it to be off for a few days at a time even there, but still. And it is even worse in the winter when it goes out. So within reason, when powerlines are above ground - I say cutting branches is OK.
I like to do most work in natural sound. That's what I call it instead of silence. Years ago when I was studying for the GREs or something else high stakes such as comprehensive exams (a one day cram session, typically me) it was one of those days noise-wise - and I did something completely out of character, opened the window in my office and yelled outside to shut up!
Anyway, I remember a couple of weeks ago there was an article in the TU (advocate section I think) about people freaking over trees being cut. Admittedly, the picture did make it look pretty drastic, but I can't say I mind. It isn't that I don't like trees because I do. I love wilderness of all kinds, to the point that even though bugs hate me, I hardly ever kill them; I try to live in harmony with things others seek to exterminate. (Hardly ever rather than never because with my history sometimes I have no choice; it is self-defense. I apologise for it as the gardeners did in Atwood's In the Year of the Flood.)
The reason is because when the weather is bad, I am so grateful when the electricity stays on. This really hit home yesterday, when I was re-organizing the shed. (An aside, years ago we bought a Rubbermaid shed. Everything about our architectural footprint is small, the shed fits in perfectly. You know how sometimes you buy something and are uncertain whether it will be worth it? Well, that Rubbermaid shed has been worth ten times what we paid.) Back to spring cleaning. Something that was in the front of the shed is a kerosene heater. We had to buy it last time there was a major power outage that lasted a while. We don't lose our electricity all that often in Castleton, but it is routine in Samsonville. It is pretty rare for it to be off for a few days at a time even there, but still. And it is even worse in the winter when it goes out. So within reason, when powerlines are above ground - I say cutting branches is OK.
I forgot the mention this pet peeve, also from yesterday: I watched about half of 60 Minutes last night. The story on farmworkers so irritated me. Granted, it was interesting. But so patronizing! I wanted to reach into the TV screen, grab the reporter and say "how dare you. You could never have one shred as much dignity and character as these folks."
I had a really lovely weekend. Yard work figured into it prominently. There is nothing like the feeling of accomplishment from working outside. I just know in my blood I was meant to be a farmer! Last evening, we went to get a pizza after the long day of working in the yard and spied an abandoned vegetable stand on the way. I pointed it out, said that is the sort of place I want to patronize this year to buy my annuals. (If it was in business, that is!) Bob said wistfully, "I would love to chuck everything and open up something like that." Unfortunately after thousands of dollars of education and years of hard work of the mental variety, plus all the financial obligations that we've accumulated, that sort of lifestyle change isn't possible. And I know it may seem charming to a hobbyist, but it is a lot less romantic when it is the way one has to make a living. So I satisfy myself with some perennials and a few annuals, container tomato plants and three squares of carefully managed vegetable plantings. Oh, how could I forget? Also two days of haying in July, if my schedule matches with the timing (which is an opera).
The other thing that made yesterday particularly nice was that it was the 40th anniversary of our priest's ordination, and so the Mass had a few extra touches. We have a choir, band and musical director who are extremely talented. It's like going to a concert every Sunday, yesterday even more so. I also appreciated that there was no mention of the "rapture." Not that I expected it, but I know some clergy of other faiths planned to bring it up. The media was falling over themselves covering it, as if it was news worthy? Why?
Speaking of concerts, I bought tickets to see Bare Naked Ladies at SPAC in July. We rarely travel to SPAC any more; just don't go to concerts as often as we did, the ride to Saratoga is too far, and the last couple of times we went to SPAC we didn't enjoy the experience very much for various reasons. But I had to make an exception for BNL. They aren't playing alone, but with Goo Goo Dolls and Michelle Branch. I don't remember much of the music of either one so I'll have to get up to speed, but BNL could be playing with bands I hate and I wouldn't care.
On the subject of anniversaries: tomorrow we're off to Stockbridge to the Norman Rockwell museum (surprisingly, I've never been before) and the Red Lion Inn to celebrate ours! It's been two years since Bob was really well on this date, so this is major! For us it is about the equivalent of two weeks in the tropics since we do not really take vacations or even full days off. (Part* of that has to do with having two houses, it is the trade off one makes.) He was able to do some outside work yesterday, and I know he felt especially good resuming normal activities.
Finally: off to Samsonville for Memorial Day weekend! Really looking forward to it.
*not all, we never really did, even before the second home. Provincial me, I'm not much of a traveler.
The other thing that made yesterday particularly nice was that it was the 40th anniversary of our priest's ordination, and so the Mass had a few extra touches. We have a choir, band and musical director who are extremely talented. It's like going to a concert every Sunday, yesterday even more so. I also appreciated that there was no mention of the "rapture." Not that I expected it, but I know some clergy of other faiths planned to bring it up. The media was falling over themselves covering it, as if it was news worthy? Why?
Speaking of concerts, I bought tickets to see Bare Naked Ladies at SPAC in July. We rarely travel to SPAC any more; just don't go to concerts as often as we did, the ride to Saratoga is too far, and the last couple of times we went to SPAC we didn't enjoy the experience very much for various reasons. But I had to make an exception for BNL. They aren't playing alone, but with Goo Goo Dolls and Michelle Branch. I don't remember much of the music of either one so I'll have to get up to speed, but BNL could be playing with bands I hate and I wouldn't care.
On the subject of anniversaries: tomorrow we're off to Stockbridge to the Norman Rockwell museum (surprisingly, I've never been before) and the Red Lion Inn to celebrate ours! It's been two years since Bob was really well on this date, so this is major! For us it is about the equivalent of two weeks in the tropics since we do not really take vacations or even full days off. (Part* of that has to do with having two houses, it is the trade off one makes.) He was able to do some outside work yesterday, and I know he felt especially good resuming normal activities.
Finally: off to Samsonville for Memorial Day weekend! Really looking forward to it.
*not all, we never really did, even before the second home. Provincial me, I'm not much of a traveler.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
About my last post: First, I forgot - Bob was proofed for that mega can of beer! Granted he looks young for his age, by about a decade. But under 21? No way! (Says the "lady" with the black-into-grey hair.)
Second, I put the remaining pie in the fridge last night - tonight we had it again. It was much firmer today!
Second, I put the remaining pie in the fridge last night - tonight we had it again. It was much firmer today!
Cooking is something that I do a lot more in the summer than at other times. I like to cook and (this part isn't humble) I'm decent at it, but I also (pick all that apply) 1) love to eat in restaurants, 2) am often pressed for time, and 3) hate to clean. I prefer to make complicated things when I cook, ones that take a lot of time and make a lot of dishes. I wash as I go so it isn't an enormous job at the end, but still it is a task I can't stand.
Last night I wanted to make beer batter (never made it before). We didn't have any beer (I prefer wine and Bob prefers martinis), so on his way home, Bob picked up one of those big single cans. He didn't buy a lot of items, and he said it was awkward. Who buys big single cans of Budweiser? He decided only two types of people. A homeless person would not very often be wearing a suit and tie (at least not clean ones). The other alternative is an alcoholic, who can't wait to get home to have a drink, and plans to slug this one down in the car on the way!
This is the pie I made for dessert:
This recipe is very easy. I made the crust by rolling 2 cups vanilla Oreos into crumbs (they are on sale 2 for $5 at Rite Aid this week). Mix with 2 tablespoons melted butter. Press in 9" pie pan. Refrigerate at least 1 hour. Spoon in 32 ounces of Strawberry Chobani yogurt. Freeze at least 1 hour. Cut up 1 quart fresh strawberries. Mix with 1 tablespoon sugar. Cover top of pie and serve.
It has a flaw. I am going to have to play around a little to fix it. A couple of weeks ago, I froze a small cup of Chobani solid to see what would happen. I already knew it froze and defrosted OK, that wasn't the point. I wanted to see if it would be palatable frozen, as an ice cream alternative. But I found that when it is fully frozen, it is hard as a rock, and it is just about impossible to eat until it is almost completely thawed.
So in this recipe, after an hour, the yogurt is not really frozen. Unfortunately, it is too soft to stay in a perfect pie shape when cut, and that's unacceptable to me. Bob felt the pie was delicious and didn't see this as a big deal. And it does present beautifully as a whole pie. I am not sure what is the exact time to freeze it for it to be not too soft, not too hard - I will have to experiment. I don't want to add another ingredient to the filling (such as Cool Whip....ewwww) unless I absolutely can't achieve it otherwise.
Last night I wanted to make beer batter (never made it before). We didn't have any beer (I prefer wine and Bob prefers martinis), so on his way home, Bob picked up one of those big single cans. He didn't buy a lot of items, and he said it was awkward. Who buys big single cans of Budweiser? He decided only two types of people. A homeless person would not very often be wearing a suit and tie (at least not clean ones). The other alternative is an alcoholic, who can't wait to get home to have a drink, and plans to slug this one down in the car on the way!
This is the pie I made for dessert:
It's a Strawberry Chobani Pie!
This recipe is very easy. I made the crust by rolling 2 cups vanilla Oreos into crumbs (they are on sale 2 for $5 at Rite Aid this week). Mix with 2 tablespoons melted butter. Press in 9" pie pan. Refrigerate at least 1 hour. Spoon in 32 ounces of Strawberry Chobani yogurt. Freeze at least 1 hour. Cut up 1 quart fresh strawberries. Mix with 1 tablespoon sugar. Cover top of pie and serve.
It has a flaw. I am going to have to play around a little to fix it. A couple of weeks ago, I froze a small cup of Chobani solid to see what would happen. I already knew it froze and defrosted OK, that wasn't the point. I wanted to see if it would be palatable frozen, as an ice cream alternative. But I found that when it is fully frozen, it is hard as a rock, and it is just about impossible to eat until it is almost completely thawed.
So in this recipe, after an hour, the yogurt is not really frozen. Unfortunately, it is too soft to stay in a perfect pie shape when cut, and that's unacceptable to me. Bob felt the pie was delicious and didn't see this as a big deal. And it does present beautifully as a whole pie. I am not sure what is the exact time to freeze it for it to be not too soft, not too hard - I will have to experiment. I don't want to add another ingredient to the filling (such as Cool Whip....ewwww) unless I absolutely can't achieve it otherwise.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
I'm getting near to putting Spring '11 to bed - moving on to reading, article writing, research / consulting, gardening, blackboard upgrade, and eventually the pool...
I wanted to write a favorite anecdote from this semester first. This needs a little background. Early last semester, a friend of mine who was new to facebook emailed me that an ex from long ago had sent him a friend request. What should he do? I advised him to ignore it. That blast from the past sparked him to do a little googling on her name. He emailed me again to ask, could she now be a professor? So I searched too, and told him to check out "Rate My Professor."
After he did this (to hilarious results, I might add), naturally he couldn't resist looking up my name. He emailed again. "Are you a weird lady?"
Now, my policy is to avoid RMP. I can imagine that students find it useful, but I have a tendency to agonize over the littlest comment. Considering the site is anonymous and public - well, it just doesn't seem good for the psyche to explore it routinely.
I always found the evaluations the university collected every semester valuable, until they converted them to an online tool. That's surprising for me, the advocate for early adoption. But the response rate plummeted once it was no longer administered via paper in class, which means only motivated students (those who LOVED or HATED the class and me) bother to complete it. Even at that, it is better than RMP, since the university one has to be submitted before final grades are in, where RMP is sensitive to grades.
After he sent me that note, I had to see what he meant. So I visited. A student had written that I was a weird lady, but nice. I wasn't upset by that remark, and responded to my friend "I am kind of weird I guess. I have some hippyish jewelry and sometimes I say outside the box things in an effort to shake them up. But the truth is the student probably wrote that because since May '09 when I screwed up my ankle I sometimes walk with a cane and canes are weird. Or maybe it is because I occasionally make them draw pictures during class, which is unexpected in a social science class." His answer came back: "you are so past weird you would have to look in the rear view mirror to see it."
So this semester, when the subject of RMP came up during class discussion, I told them that story. The uncomfortable glances when I brought up RMP and the weird lady part - it was so obvious almost all of them had looked my name up and read that. Then the laughter at my cane reference and my friend's response! I thought some of them would pee their pants.
We were focused on the "weird" part of the comment, not on the "lady" part. I've noticed students still use "girl" to describe their female peers, when my generation has been socialized to say "women" for anyone past adolescence. "Lady" sounds like something out of the antebellum south! Admittedly, I've been called (much) worse.
I wanted to write a favorite anecdote from this semester first. This needs a little background. Early last semester, a friend of mine who was new to facebook emailed me that an ex from long ago had sent him a friend request. What should he do? I advised him to ignore it. That blast from the past sparked him to do a little googling on her name. He emailed me again to ask, could she now be a professor? So I searched too, and told him to check out "Rate My Professor."
After he did this (to hilarious results, I might add), naturally he couldn't resist looking up my name. He emailed again. "Are you a weird lady?"
Now, my policy is to avoid RMP. I can imagine that students find it useful, but I have a tendency to agonize over the littlest comment. Considering the site is anonymous and public - well, it just doesn't seem good for the psyche to explore it routinely.
I always found the evaluations the university collected every semester valuable, until they converted them to an online tool. That's surprising for me, the advocate for early adoption. But the response rate plummeted once it was no longer administered via paper in class, which means only motivated students (those who LOVED or HATED the class and me) bother to complete it. Even at that, it is better than RMP, since the university one has to be submitted before final grades are in, where RMP is sensitive to grades.
After he sent me that note, I had to see what he meant. So I visited. A student had written that I was a weird lady, but nice. I wasn't upset by that remark, and responded to my friend "I am kind of weird I guess. I have some hippyish jewelry and sometimes I say outside the box things in an effort to shake them up. But the truth is the student probably wrote that because since May '09 when I screwed up my ankle I sometimes walk with a cane and canes are weird. Or maybe it is because I occasionally make them draw pictures during class, which is unexpected in a social science class." His answer came back: "you are so past weird you would have to look in the rear view mirror to see it."
So this semester, when the subject of RMP came up during class discussion, I told them that story. The uncomfortable glances when I brought up RMP and the weird lady part - it was so obvious almost all of them had looked my name up and read that. Then the laughter at my cane reference and my friend's response! I thought some of them would pee their pants.
We were focused on the "weird" part of the comment, not on the "lady" part. I've noticed students still use "girl" to describe their female peers, when my generation has been socialized to say "women" for anyone past adolescence. "Lady" sounds like something out of the antebellum south! Admittedly, I've been called (much) worse.
I go in spells where I write a lot about my teaching. I spent some time when I first started writing here thinking about how to handle my students finding me, what things are acceptable to share, etc. I considered this question not just about my classes but about other aspects of my life too. True, 99% of people cannot spell my last name, so that makes google searches tricky. (Even my own maternal grandmother couldn't remember whether it was UI or IU - she resolved it by writing in cursive, and dotting it high up.) But one can't rely on all those diphthongs to keep a secret.
It was an extension of a subject I'd thought about many times pre-www when writing stories - how much to self-censor? It was not really necessary to self-censor a journal in the days of the spiral bound notebook (well, maybe a little) but it was always a question with fiction. I have a couple fiction stories that are great, but one of the main characters makes it impossible for them to be published. I err on the side of self-censoring. I know, most writing advice advocates breaking free, avoiding the practice, but once when I (innocently) threw caution to the wind in a story, it bit me. I didn't even see it coming!
In the early days of weblogs, there were debates about the self-censoring question, and lots of bloggers pushed not holding back online. I was always skeptical of this, even more than in stories.
I keep this ejournal as a record, just like I kept my paper journal. It's a reflection tool, and I use it as a chronicle. I do it for myself. I've been influenced by Elwyn to some degree. Imagine! Keeping a journal every day of your life from age 16 to age 86. Recording the mundane, the weather, daily life, major events. Newspaper clippings and receipts.
I've figured out how to navigate the censorship question. It's gotten a lot easier actually, now that everything is traceable, everybody is always online, and facebook has made everyone vulnerable, not just those of us who were online pioneers.
Still, there are some things I never write about, both in terms of my job and personal stuff. The main character of the story described above is an example. Sometimes I'd like to write more on something - but cannot. That has made me consider starting up a private journal again. But I've never been as consistent as I am here, and I don't want to break that continuity.
In terms of classes and students, I mostly avoid specifics. Not entirely, but that's made a bit easier by my having over 100 students every semester. It's hard to figure out who it might be with so many classes and students. If I want to be a little more specific about something sensitive, I wait several semesters before writing about it. I never write a reflection or funny incident here that I wouldn't share with class. In fact, I often do tell stories and reflections to class. I always get more than a few laughs from my anecdotes.
This is a long introduction to what's on my mind right now. One of those things that I'd like to write about more specifically, but can't. The E student. The reason it's on my mind is due to this. That's one of my anecdotes, from class last semester. The E student is just like the woman I described as meeting at my local watering hole. Oh, I don't know if she is a free spirit, and I don't know if she has a tendency to shoot her mouth off when she drinks wine, "no offense." But the attitude - that education as a discipline, schools of education, toleration, foundations, certification - are BS is a commonality.
It was an extension of a subject I'd thought about many times pre-www when writing stories - how much to self-censor? It was not really necessary to self-censor a journal in the days of the spiral bound notebook (well, maybe a little) but it was always a question with fiction. I have a couple fiction stories that are great, but one of the main characters makes it impossible for them to be published. I err on the side of self-censoring. I know, most writing advice advocates breaking free, avoiding the practice, but once when I (innocently) threw caution to the wind in a story, it bit me. I didn't even see it coming!
In the early days of weblogs, there were debates about the self-censoring question, and lots of bloggers pushed not holding back online. I was always skeptical of this, even more than in stories.
I keep this ejournal as a record, just like I kept my paper journal. It's a reflection tool, and I use it as a chronicle. I do it for myself. I've been influenced by Elwyn to some degree. Imagine! Keeping a journal every day of your life from age 16 to age 86. Recording the mundane, the weather, daily life, major events. Newspaper clippings and receipts.
I've figured out how to navigate the censorship question. It's gotten a lot easier actually, now that everything is traceable, everybody is always online, and facebook has made everyone vulnerable, not just those of us who were online pioneers.
Still, there are some things I never write about, both in terms of my job and personal stuff. The main character of the story described above is an example. Sometimes I'd like to write more on something - but cannot. That has made me consider starting up a private journal again. But I've never been as consistent as I am here, and I don't want to break that continuity.
In terms of classes and students, I mostly avoid specifics. Not entirely, but that's made a bit easier by my having over 100 students every semester. It's hard to figure out who it might be with so many classes and students. If I want to be a little more specific about something sensitive, I wait several semesters before writing about it. I never write a reflection or funny incident here that I wouldn't share with class. In fact, I often do tell stories and reflections to class. I always get more than a few laughs from my anecdotes.
This is a long introduction to what's on my mind right now. One of those things that I'd like to write about more specifically, but can't. The E student. The reason it's on my mind is due to this. That's one of my anecdotes, from class last semester. The E student is just like the woman I described as meeting at my local watering hole. Oh, I don't know if she is a free spirit, and I don't know if she has a tendency to shoot her mouth off when she drinks wine, "no offense." But the attitude - that education as a discipline, schools of education, toleration, foundations, certification - are BS is a commonality.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
I've been thinking about a contrasting example to the student who sparked the last post. This one is a student with a troubled history, on probation. Bad family situation, and no money. He was struggling, and told me he couldn't afford the books. Now, I put everything on reserve, but students don't like to go the library. They like e-reserves. I do provide some materials that way, but that isn't possible for all the reading.
At about the midpoint of the semester, I told him he would fail the class if he continued with the same behavior; I said he could get a D or C at most if he stepped up immediately. When addressing the entire class, I said that one of my frustrations is that students aren't resourceful. For instance, one of the books that is assigned is an edited collection of journal articles - the vast majority of the journals are available in online format from the university library. Do students who don't buy the books ever search the library catalogue and get the articles that way? No. They either whine to me, or try to play the games of multiple guess and forum of ignorance.
You know what? He took it to heart and made extreme effort for the second half of the semester. He took my advice about being resourceful; searched the library for the articles and used them. His writing and class participation were good, very insightful. The end result? A B- in my class, and he emailed me not to ask why he didn't get a higher grade...but to tell me that his GPA wound up being OK this semester and he wasn't kicked out. Also he said that he knows he has to try harder next year. So he'll be able to be at college for his senior year! This made me very happy. I wouldn't mind having him in class next semester; it was well worth my time to work with him.
At about the midpoint of the semester, I told him he would fail the class if he continued with the same behavior; I said he could get a D or C at most if he stepped up immediately. When addressing the entire class, I said that one of my frustrations is that students aren't resourceful. For instance, one of the books that is assigned is an edited collection of journal articles - the vast majority of the journals are available in online format from the university library. Do students who don't buy the books ever search the library catalogue and get the articles that way? No. They either whine to me, or try to play the games of multiple guess and forum of ignorance.
You know what? He took it to heart and made extreme effort for the second half of the semester. He took my advice about being resourceful; searched the library for the articles and used them. His writing and class participation were good, very insightful. The end result? A B- in my class, and he emailed me not to ask why he didn't get a higher grade...but to tell me that his GPA wound up being OK this semester and he wasn't kicked out. Also he said that he knows he has to try harder next year. So he'll be able to be at college for his senior year! This made me very happy. I wouldn't mind having him in class next semester; it was well worth my time to work with him.
"Why" number four arrived. From an "E" this time. My response probably would have made me upset, if I received it from a professor when I was a student. But I've never been a slacker who feels entitled and demands explanation and a grade change. Have I ever been a slacker? Well, yes, on occasion. Have I felt entitled? Probably, but very rarely. Both things together? Never. Did I ever demand explanation? Once, in seventh grade (mentioned near the top of this post, in the Unintended Lesson Imparted section). How about a grade change? Perish the thought! I took my lumps, sometimes undeserved ones, such as that time in seventh grade. Also in grad school when I dissented from the company line philosophically and got zinged (but only by having my A lowered to A-, never something catastrophic).
When I asked that seventh grade teacher "why," it wasn't about the 50. It was about the end of semester grade, which I believe was in the C+ range. It surprises me to think back on it now, that I had the courage to ask her, but I recall that my parents encouraged me to do so, since I was upset by the grade. I asked her if I got C+ because of the 50. (It didn't count enough to bring it down that much.) She said no, it was because I was too quiet. She was right about that. I was quiet in class in junior high school. I'd been acculturated to be that way, had been rewarded for such behavior. Teachers generally preferred silent adolescents. I doubt that was the real reason she penalized me. It was the last time I ever questioned a grade.
I'm remembering another of my teachers from the Seven Teachers story encouraged me to ask "why" when I got an 80 in pottery in high school. I describe her in the Exceptional English Teacher section. She required a journal for class and I wrote in it how upset I was over the grade. So she commented nearby, telling me to ask the teacher why? (Believe it or not, I still have my journals from her classes and that's why I know it was underlined.) I never asked, though.
A couple of days ago, my sister emailed me this picture:
Conformity in this case didn't mean being a nerd, or even an artist. About half the class time was spent with kids throwing clay at the clock, sneaking out of the classroom (one of the art rooms had a door to the outside, bad idea) and other foolishness. At the end of each quarter, we had to have 10 projects done. There was a day when we put them out on display, and the teacher walked around evaluating them. My brother was also in the class, and he was many projects behind, so a couple of days before, he took a ball of clay, punched it, fired it, called it an ashtray. He made several projects using that same method. I'm not sure what his grade was, but I do remember it was higher than an 80. Other kids made elaborate bongs and pot pipes. They got a lot of praise, and probably a 95. Remember it was the '70s and my school was near Woodstock.
I liked pottery and didn't let this school experience dissuade me. Our town library had a kiln and a wonderful librarian who fired it for us. We gathered as a group of all different ages. Some made pottery, others ceramics. It was a much more nurturing environment than school. It's true that the vase isn't exactly a museum piece, but my sister has been using it for 35 years!
When I asked that seventh grade teacher "why," it wasn't about the 50. It was about the end of semester grade, which I believe was in the C+ range. It surprises me to think back on it now, that I had the courage to ask her, but I recall that my parents encouraged me to do so, since I was upset by the grade. I asked her if I got C+ because of the 50. (It didn't count enough to bring it down that much.) She said no, it was because I was too quiet. She was right about that. I was quiet in class in junior high school. I'd been acculturated to be that way, had been rewarded for such behavior. Teachers generally preferred silent adolescents. I doubt that was the real reason she penalized me. It was the last time I ever questioned a grade.
I'm remembering another of my teachers from the Seven Teachers story encouraged me to ask "why" when I got an 80 in pottery in high school. I describe her in the Exceptional English Teacher section. She required a journal for class and I wrote in it how upset I was over the grade. So she commented nearby, telling me to ask the teacher why? (Believe it or not, I still have my journals from her classes and that's why I know it was underlined.) I never asked, though.
A couple of days ago, my sister emailed me this picture:
She asked me if I had made it for her when I was in high school. I responded, yes, but not in school, at our town's library in West Shokan. I did take pottery in high school, but the teacher wouldn't let me make something like this. She felt my stuff was too utilitarian, symmetrical and boring and she didn't like us using colorful glazes; she made us use dull '70s earth colors. Admittedly, I'm no sculptor (nor do I have my sister's level of artistic talent) but I wasn't completely incompetent and I still wonder why so much of high school is about extinguishing nonconformity.
Conformity in this case didn't mean being a nerd, or even an artist. About half the class time was spent with kids throwing clay at the clock, sneaking out of the classroom (one of the art rooms had a door to the outside, bad idea) and other foolishness. At the end of each quarter, we had to have 10 projects done. There was a day when we put them out on display, and the teacher walked around evaluating them. My brother was also in the class, and he was many projects behind, so a couple of days before, he took a ball of clay, punched it, fired it, called it an ashtray. He made several projects using that same method. I'm not sure what his grade was, but I do remember it was higher than an 80. Other kids made elaborate bongs and pot pipes. They got a lot of praise, and probably a 95. Remember it was the '70s and my school was near Woodstock.
I liked pottery and didn't let this school experience dissuade me. Our town library had a kiln and a wonderful librarian who fired it for us. We gathered as a group of all different ages. Some made pottery, others ceramics. It was a much more nurturing environment than school. It's true that the vase isn't exactly a museum piece, but my sister has been using it for 35 years!
Today makes three emails asking "why" - this time, about a B. Why do students think B is a bad grade? It makes me suspect grade inflation is true. Sure, I too was a "grade monger" - I wanted As - but I never complained to a professor. Different times or insufficient assertiveness? Fear/doormat syndrome or respect/the way things used to be?
This is disturbing. Could it be a strategy to assemble a list of suspects? Maybe I have watched too many Criminal Minds. I confess to being interested in true crime stories, but I cannot fathom what sort of person would want to collect his stuff.
Reading this column on Wednesday mornings is one thing I miss in my new paper-free life. This comic strip is another. (Both are in The Record.) I've subscribed to the syndicated comics I liked in both the TU and Record (a couple had been yanked already in one of the many redesigns that were purportedly making the papers better but really were just stripping out content and replacing it with crap). I've also subscribed to Dear Abby and Annie's Mailbox and find the emails satisfactory. Other stuff gets missed even though I check the websites (because the reading pattern is different in print v. online) but overall, I don't miss the papers as much as I expected. I will have to buy it for a while when I need to mulch my garden though! For that, it is invaluable.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Testing out the "share" button on my sister's blog: Paintings by Janette Kahil. It works!
Also - decided to change the background of the template.
Also - decided to change the background of the template.
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