Seven Teachers (a work in progress)
by Gina Giuliano

Unintended Lesson Imparted

8/14/1998. In high school, we had “selectives” for English. This meant that you had to take ninth grade English, then six semesters of English classes. Those six could be freely chosen among a menu of choices. It was great, and I loved that approach, but it was eventually abandoned for a more structured method. I suppose that was because students were not studying a common core, and so were not doing well enough on the English Regents.

It was at this time that I learned there are a lot of things teachers don’t know. This thought had occurred to me a few times before, once in elementary school when another girl slugged me over a brown crayon, and the next-door classroom teacher (who was watching us because our teacher had to step out - to do what, I now wonder?) sent us both to the principal’s office. It dawned on me again in seventh grade science, when the teacher changed my grade of 100 on a test to a 50, after catching the girl sitting next to me cheating from my paper and accusing us of collaborating. I had to look up that word in the dictionary, in shock as I read it next to the 50 on my paper, written there in red pen.

But those incidents were disciplinary issues, not academic ones. This particular course, my learning experience for what teachers know, was a “harder” selective impressively titled “The Novel.” It included reading Giants of the Earth, My Antonia and The Jungle. An essentialist’s list, perhaps? The teacher was amiable enough, and all of the popular, semi-good-student male jocks were drawn to his class. Had I know this in advance, in spite of the attraction of the course’s focus, I probably would have chosen a different class, for I was one of the great unknown masses in high school, not a bit athletic, and not just a semi-good-student but an honor student. I sat in the second or third seat back, one row from the door, marveling at those boys and imagining how much my best friend and a popular wanna-be would like to trade places with me. If “The Novel” had not involved wading through Willa Cather and Upton Sinclair, that is.

That day we were discussing Giants of the Earth, and the teacher said, during one of his regular volleys with a jock whose usual comments consisted mainly of wisecracks, something about male and female oxen. (My memory tells me that he might have said “oxes,” but that part can’t be true.) I felt as if a spike of electricity ran through me. He wasn’t joking. If he didn’t know that an ox is a castrated bull, maybe he didn’t understand The Jungle, either. My doubts grew exponentially. Maybe he didn’t even know which classic books to assign for this class. And I was certain he didn’t suspect that two-thirds of my classmates were gathering their insights not from actually reading the assigned novels, but from cliff notes.

Of course, later I realized that a college degree in some subject doesn’t mean, and isn’t intended to mean, that the graduate has memorized every tidbit there is to know about the discipline. Just because I can’t remember the date Montana became a state doesn’t mean I’m unworthy of my bachelor’s degree in history. Later I also realized that I’d learned a valuable lesson that day, and it wasn’t about oxen or literature or popular kids and cliff notes.

As a result, I’ve concluded that my teacher was a good guy and not a bad teacher, either. First, now I’m certain that his book list was appropriate, even excellent. But more important, that day I learned to question things which are casually presented as “facts.”

Gym Teacher from H-ll

11/22/02. I noticed on AOL's welcome screen, one of the changing main photos/headlines reads "On This Day in 1963...where were you?" The story is about President Kennedy's assassination. I can't remember where I was, since I was only a little more than two years old at that time. Sometimes we kind of remember things from when we were tiny not from the actual experience, but because someone has told us the story and it becomes familiar. I don't recall my mother or father telling me what I was doing, either.

What is a coincidence is that last night I was thinking of JFK. He was really only the subject of a passing thought, and it wasn't because I remembered the anniversary of his death was today. I had straightened up the porch once again, in an effort to make a renewed commitment to using the treadmill. I started thinking about physical education class, or as we called it, "gym." I hated gym in school. That hatred resulted in a lifelong disdain for most sports, whether as a participant or spectator, live or televised. (I don't like other types of games, either.) I don't read that section of the paper or listen to that part of the news. I'm ignorant on the subject, and I'm fine with that. More troublesome is a distaste for exercise, which I now struggle to overcome. Oh, I don't mind swimming, but I don't want to go to some sort of facility with others to do it. And I like walking, but it has to be productive in some other way than simply improving health. It has to be alternative transportation, in other words. Even the treadmill in the semi-privacy of the front porch is an adversary.

I think given the chance, I might have been an OK athlete; some members of my family have considerable talent, and I respect them for that. My hatred started early, and it isn't one of those memories that someone else told me. I don't think I told my parents about the things that happened in gym, anyway. Those were still the days when school authority was respected. My first grade gym teacher treated me all right. I mean, I wasn't singled out as an athlete or a wimp. Average is often a good place to be. She was extremely mean to some of the boys, though. She even hit a few with a whiffle ball bat, right in front of the class. I don't know if corporal punishment was allowed then, or if she was breaking the rules. I don't remember why she did this, I'm sure they were being brats, but I know it wasn't an isolated instance and it was awful. She only lasted a year.

Because I wasn't the target, though, I think that experience isn't really to blame for my aversion to athletics. It may have set the stage, but it took root during Grades 2 - 6, when I had the same teacher every year. He hated me. Or at least that's what I believed, I doubt he gave our relationship that much energy. But he did single me out for public abuse regularly. Unlike Ms. Whiffle Ball Bat, he never raised a hand to a kid, at least not when I was a witness. He may not have had to resort to such tactics, since he was especially good at verbal humiliation. He seemed to like the competitive, athletically skilled kids, which were many of the boys and some of the girls.

I vaguely remember, the first year in his class, that another girl and I didn't participate very much in whatever game the class was playing. In elementary school, that usually meant dodgeball, or the even more vicious war. I don't know why this happened, if we claimed we didn't feel well, or were tagged out almost immediately by our more aggressive classmates and so sat out much of the game or what. I'm sure I wasn't a really good player. Although I’ve never been overweight and I was then and still am active, I've always been careful and tried to avoid injury, so I wasn't the type to slide into home or jump really high to get the ball. I didn't care that much about winning. So that could be what started it.

Already I had been labeled a loser, which meant never being chosen as team captain by the teacher, and being picked last, or second to last, or on a really good day, third to last for a team, even by kids who acted nice to me at other times. I wasn't exactly a popular kid at any time, but I did have a couple of friends, and as a top performing, quiet and well-behaved student I was generally liked by the teacher. That year my new gym teacher threatened to send us both to the nurse's office for gym class because he insisted there was something wrong with us, and he said he was going to give us the grade "M" for "medical" on our report cards instead of real grades. He never carried through on either, and instead we passed the class. Could they retain a straight A second grader for failing phys ed, I wonder?

When I was older, we occasionally did something other than play dodgeball in the gymnasium. I remember being outside on the athletic field, and when the class was nearly over, the teacher telling us to run as fast as we could back to the school. I think it was getting near to one of the holiday breaks, and he said he was going to give us each a lollipop when we got there. I liked candy as much as any kid (still do), and I tried to run fast. True to his word, he handed lollipops out to all of my classmates. When he got to me, he said I couldn't have one because I ran too slowly. You know, it has been over thirty years, and I still feel the sting as I write that.

Just two years ago, I was at a luncheon meeting of school counselors, and I was seated at a table with a man who was recently retired from the high school I attended. I was not one of his students, and he didn't remember me, but he knew my elementary school, and he mentioned that he still socializes with my long-retired nemesis. I nearly choked on the spring mix salad with mandarin oranges and raspberry vinaigrette dressing (a conference standard) at the mention of the name.

When I finally got to high school, for the most part I had more competent physical education teachers, and we played much better sports, but the wimp label was not easily shed, my hatred for gym remained, and I certainly didn't transform into the teacher's pet. I remember the annual physical fitness test, which I think had something to do with national or State standards. There were timed squat thrusts and push ups and jumping jacks, and the gym teacher marching around like a drill sergeant. I learned that President Kennedy was to blame for my torture. (Did you wonder when I was going to get to the part about JFK?)

Sometimes changes in physical education curriculum are discussed in academe, or the media, although probably less than reforms in other subjects. The focus is usually the cruelty of the games played, the unfair methods of choosing teams, and the damage to self-esteem. I've had students who believe such changes to be ludicrous, arguing that learning to deal with competition is healthy or a fact of life. Whenever I mention the dreaded dodgeball game, or my gym aversion to my classes I am sure to get a laugh. A lot of people do identify with it, it seems. I don't tell it like a tear-jerker, and I omit the medical and lollipop days. Leaving aside the being labeled a loser problem, I argue that gym class could have taught me something valuable about physical fitness and a healthy lifestyle, but it didn't. Nor do I see much impact now; there are too many kids laying on couches, plugged into television programs or game systems, eating fast food and drinking soda.

However, there is something important I did gain. I was lucky to like, and achieve, in the academic and creative parts of learning. Whatever social difficulties there were in school (and there were many, but they will keep for another time), I felt comfortable in math, social studies, English, art, etc. That feeling of being at home in education is one reason people pursue advanced degrees, and a career somewhere in the academy. The gym experience was unacceptable, but at least it was isolated. Now, when I am teaching classes full of future teachers, I try to impart that there are kids who feel that way about all classes, and at all times in school. I want to make sure the losers get an occasional lollipop, too.

Maybe He Thought Third Graders Liked Gross Stuff

April 16, 2003. In third grade, half the day was spent learning English and science with a strange teacher, and the remaining half was sanctuary, or social studies and math with a nice teacher.

I believe the strange guy only taught at my school for a year. He was very tall and thin. His wife was a substitute teacher who was very short and fat, and also mean. They made an odd couple, to be sure. This strange teacher didn’t really rely on humiliation, and so wasn’t outright mean – just very odd, almost sadistic.

I remember the weirdo walked around with a pair of pliers in his back pocket, and every so often he would whip them out, and yank a couple of teeth out of some deer skulls he kept in the supply cubbyholes near his desk - and threaten us with the same if we didn't stop talking. He would walk right up in front of a student's desk, clicking those pliers together.

I also remember he had a deer or cow heart floating in some solution - and we had to go up in pairs, reach into the container - I think it was one of those plastic jugs that paste came in - and pick it up, then drop it back in. Eeeewwww! Splash. In a macabre way, it is sort of funny. You know he did it just because it was disgusting, I mean what did we learn from that?

Once when my pencil rolled off my desk and I bent down to pick it up, he bounced a ball off the back of my head. This was a shock, as I was the type of kid who never got in trouble.

I think that might be the only occasion when he singled out me, though. Another time, my mother had to take me out of school for a dentist appointment, and I missed a quiz. I had only had time to write my name, etc. at the top of the page. When we got them back the following day, he had written “100" on mine, with the note, “Mother had to take you out of school...but this is what you would have gotten, isn’t it?”

There were two girls who were his favorites; unlike nearly everyone else in class, they could do no wrong. One day he put a couple of those deer teeth he had yanked out into a glass of Coke to demonstrate that they would dissolve. Afterwards, he gave the leftover bottle of soda to those two girls while in class. They drank it while we watched. (As children, we believed he was treating them to something, but now I wonder at the juxtaposition of Coke rotting your teeth with being given it as a reward?)

I suppose he was trying to be a progressive, and use hands-on learning. It did make a lasting impression, but probably not the lesson he intended.

Regardless, neither those two girls, I, nor any other classmate who was the recipient of one of his nicer gestures appreciated the positive attention. The entire class was so creeped out by him that all we wanted was to be ignored.

Exceptional English Teacher

3/30/06. I found out a couple of days ago that a favorite teacher of mine died last month.

I wouldn't say this favorite teacher of mine was a role model, or even a mentor exactly. Personally, she may have had some issues; she was involved with at least three former students, and eventually married two of them. I don’t know whether the relationships were inappropriate while these boys were in her class. But it was the ‘70s, and such entanglements were not uncommon in those days. I can think of several teachers, both male and female, who were romantically involved with students. It did not make the news as it does today.

She taught three of the selectives that we were permitted to take in English, and I took them all. She encouraged a lot of free writing and reading. Because she was popular among students who were not college bound, her classes had a much more chaotic atmosphere than was usual for me.

At first, because of my love of reading and writing, I relished the thought of choosing my own English class. I resolved to take the “harder” selectives. I soon found that memorizing long lists of vocabulary words and dutifully regurgitating definitions for the weekly quiz were standard in all selectives; easy enough, but boring. Eventually I enrolled in the “easier” English courses, those which attracted mostly the non-Regents track students, because once the quiz was dispensed with, these teachers allowed less structure, and delighted in the rare opportunity to have a serious student.

In the “easier” selectives, I was permitted to read and write what I chose; I relished the freedom, even if it meant tolerating things that were (mostly) absent in the harder selectives, such as one of the scary triplets coming in late and throwing a chair across the room, yelling “f--- you” and storming out of the classroom when the teacher timidly asked him about his tardiness.

She was nice to everyone - including, and especially, the troubled students, even the kid who threw the chair and yelled the obscenity. Those capable of it could be self-directed, and she was there to applaud our efforts; this is an example of constructivism (in fact, the whole idea of selectives is pretty constructivist). In my case, she really encouraged me to write. She always assigned a journal as an assignment in class; that has proved to be a valuable lifelong habit for me, and I require the students in my foundations class to keep one, too. Maybe I wouldn't be writing this now if it wasn't for her; she wrote "keep writing!" in my high school yearbook. When I told her that I was going to go to Oneonta to college, she shared that Oneonta was her alma mater. She even wrote to me a few times when I was a freshman.

Although I hadn't kept in touch with her in years, I think the world will be a little less bright with her gone.

Savvy School Marm

08/01/07. I read recently about the efforts of parents to ban Junie B. Jones books. Some believe children should be taught proper spelling and grammar immediately when learning to read (the phonics approach), and others favor whole language, a literacy method that accepts misspellings and other errors as long as children are engaged in reading and writing. Junie is a troublemaker, calls people names and talks back to her teachers. She has problems with grammar.

In 1966, when I was learning to read, my school used i.t.a. (the initial teaching alphabet). There were two kindergarten classes. Mine used i.t.a., and the other class used a traditional method to teach reading. I often wondered about i.t.a., especially after I became an educator, so a few years ago I did some research on it.

It was more popular in the UK than it was in the US, and there are still some proponents for using it, or a similar simplified spelling method to teach reading and writing. Apparently, i.t.a. was a response to the difficulties of teaching children to read and write in English, a problem that is not as often seen in cultures that speak a more phonetic language such as Spanish.

You can see the influence of i.t.a. on my writing in a story I wrote in February 1969, when I was 7 ½ years old. This was written during second grade, the transition year from i.t.a. to regular spelling.

A Cat in a Boat
Once upon a time thare lived a familiey who was verry verry poor. And theye had a son whose name was Thimathy. he was a only child. theye had a cat too. the cat's name was "Pussy Kitty" Pussy Kitty was a Nice cat. every-boddy thoute sow. But one hollow-ween the Boy Dressed up as a cat aNd dressed the cat up as him well it sow happened the parent's thoute thimouthy was the cat and the cat was thimouthy. and the cat eat whot thimouthy was spos too eat. and thimouthy was eating whot the cat was sossposs too eat. and the cat slep iN the Bed aNd thimouthy slep on a Rug. And the cat went to school and thimouthy stade home But worst oF all there pareNts called thimouthy Pussy Kitty aNd called the cat thimouthy this went on For 2 years one day thimouthy and his mother and Father went to a "JinMill"!?? and came home 2.0.0. at night! All three wer DruNgk Pussy-Kitty thoute and thoute But he thoute Fast! Now thay thoute mor oF Pussy Kitty But the Next Day thaye oll most killed Pussy-Kitty! Poor thing! Now Pussy Kitty New whot too doo. this is whot he did he got a Boat Poot thimouthy and his mother and Father on it and went to "Lake Goerge"! the Boet tipped and thay all DrouwnD exsept Pussy-Kitty he New how too swim he loved it aNd you no whot he Fowned a New home and thay treted him like a cat Not like a huemen Beng! and he was happy he was happyer the he was BeFore!! the eNd!

I didn't write “A Cat in a Boat” for school; I wrote it at home, to amuse my family. We were definitely not up to writing stories of this length or complexity in school! You can tell how much I preferred animals to people even then. I would add that the dark theme probably would have gotten me sent to the school psychologist's office...except that in 1969, such things didn't happen, and I don't remember my elementary school having a psychologist.

Plus, in second grade I had a wonderful teacher who would not have overreacted. She really was old, that wasn’t just a child’s perception. She’d been teaching since one-room school days. Her command of the classroom was complete; students respected her. This wasn’t because she was mean. She was just a really good teacher. I don’t recall her being warm and fuzzy exactly. I remember that the focus was on learning, and that she encouraged the faster-paced students to explore and become self-directed learners, which gave her time to focus on the middle-range and slower learners.

My brother had her for fourth grade a couple of years before me. He struggled in school, had been held back that year before, and I remember how devastated he was by this. But then he got this wonderful teacher, and adjusted quickly. My mother says “she taught him to read.” (They were not using i.t.a.)

When this wonderful teacher was very old, she invited my brother over to her house and gave him a piece of antique furniture.

So the school administration must have known that this old school marm was the best choice for the transition, and she landed the unhappy task of guiding us.

I.t.a. didn't harm me at all; it may have helped me (my parents believe it did), or perhaps I would have learned easily no matter the method. I am a voracious reader, I like to write, and never had trouble with spelling, grammar or punctuation.

However, I do remember that the transition to regular spelling in second grade was very traumatic for a lot of kids in my class. Some struggled for years, and I think some still struggle as adults. Whether that would have been true, regardless, is a good question. Parental resistance is one reason cited for failure of innovative methods by proponents of simplified spelling, but the transition is the most important reason given for failure of this approach. My school abandoned the i.t.a. pilot after just a few years.

I do notice that some college students have trouble with spelling, punctuation, word choice and grammar, and they certainly didn't learn via simplified spelling, but perhaps they were taught with the whole language, rather than phonics approach. But I have always chalked students' weakness in this area up to over reliance on spell checkers, and also to the love affair with text messaging and IM-speak.

I don't have any wisdom regarding the merits of the Junie books, although I think banning books is always misguided. I do believe that reading is better than an activity such as television watching or gaming.

Stereotypical School Marm

01/15/08. I found out that another of my former elementary school teachers has died. This is a woman I had for fourth grade. My recollections of her aren't really numerous or specific. It may be that the year she taught me was the only year she was at my school. I do know I thought of her as so old. I mean, it's natural for a little kid to think of a teacher as old, but in this case - I remember thinking that she was a lot older than my parents - if my calculations based on her graduation dates from high school and graduate school are true that isn't the case at all; she was only in her early 30s at that time. I even thought she was older than my second grade teacher when in truth she was young enough to be her daughter!

She was the definition of an old school marm: hair in a bun, stiff, thin and bony, brittle, with plain attire that featured high collared shirts. I think she was a pretty good teacher in terms of conveying the material, though, I mean I believe I did learn in her class. She was old fashioned in her methods, nothing like the other "young" teachers.

But I remember all the kids hated her. I think we believed her to be pretty mean overall. Equal opportunity mean. Not warm and fuzzy at all. We were terrified of her. She wasn't particularly mean to me, but she wasn't exactly nice to anyone. Often she expected us to rat out other students who were misbehaving, would hold an entire row accountable for the actions of one student, make us write repetitious sentences over and over.

I remember some of the boys disliked her so much that they gave her a gift of candy that they had tampered with - sprinkling hot pepper on it, I think. Caused awful repercussions - yelling, extra homework, loss of “compliments” (we had a system where as a class, we earned points for good behavior that were kept track of on the blackboard - when we hit a set number, the class got a small party. Behaviorism in action!).

Starting in third grade, I had two teachers per year. So in fourth grade, I had this teacher in the morning, and the other half of the day I had a different teacher. I remember how relieved we all were to go to his class in the afternoon.

I liked my elementary school and believe my education there was decent but when I think back I realize for how many years I had teachers that were scary. Ones that must have disliked kids. It's amazing I didn't fake sick every day. I always wonder how people would react if you went to a funeral and stood up when they invite people to make remarks or wrote in one of the legacy.com websites your actual recollection! Of course I could never do that but it is a funny thought nonetheless.

Challenging Assumptions

May 29, 2010. A couple of weeks ago we attended a retirement party for a favorite professor of ours from undergraduate days. I wanted to make him something for the event, and so I went through a stack of old notebooks from that time. (Yes, I still have most of my college notebooks and even a few from high school, stored among cobwebs and dust on a shelf in the stairwell.) I photocopied some of the pages of notes, mostly things he said about the readings that were discussed in class, found some pictures of campus and made a big card out of a new notebook.

Thirty years after sitting in this professor’s classroom, the memories still resonate. I took three classes in European History with him. He took no BS from students. You had to come to class prepared. Two books we read were Brave New World and Frankenstein. At the time he was definitely a Marxist (he has since tempered his views somewhat), and his lectures were very enthusiastic. I remember him jumping up on the desk. He didn’t stifle student viewpoints, however; one of the classes was economic history, and it was cross-listed with business, so there were several enthusiastic capitalists in the class as well. Class discussion was very lively.

Students often lingered after class to continue the discussion, and at the time I was very hostile to technology. Not just computers, but even things like roads. We had been studying the English enclosure act, and I was uncomfortable about the idea of efficiency. At the next class, he wrote “Productivity Sucks” and “Inefficiency Kills Me” in huge letters on the board. It was the basis for class discussion.

He was a tough grader, and he also turned assessment ideas on their end. When he handed papers back, one student might have a check on top, one might have 85, one might have A-, another might have “very good” written on it, another would have 4.5, and still another would have no marks on it at all. Students would look around, frustrated. What does this mean? How do we compare these grades? He told us not to be “grade mongers.” In those days, at the end of the semester, you had to wait for the college to mail you the semester’s grades, and it took a few weeks. So professors often posted final grades on their office doors after they submitted them. This professor would post the list, and the grade was different depending on whether you counted down from the top or up from the bottom. Now I realize he was applying constructivism to assessment.

On the first day of class, he said “raise your hand if you are a freshman,” immediately upon walking into the room. After looking around, he told the students with their hands in the air “I have signed drop forms on the table in the front. You’re out of the class.” (He’s wasn’t joking.)

We’ve stayed in touch all these years, chatting on the phone, meeting for dinner or at important occasions, and years after graduation, he wrote me recommendations for my master’s and doctoral degree programs; I distinctly remember the envelope for the master’s degree one was very fat. Probably his recommendation alone would have gotten me accepted.

In my search for pictures, I came across three of the Ashokan Reservoir like this one, which I don't remember taking. But they are stunning!

Sparked by making this notebook, I've been going through old photo albums, and old digital pictures that I have stored on Photoworks. I scanned some of the paper ones, and downloaded some of the e-files, and I have been using them to make collages on greeting cards, as well as albums on facebook. (Where they are generating lots of commentary.)

I came across this photo, of me and a Seward Johnson statue in downtown Albany:



I see there is an exhibit this year as well.

Since yesterday, I been wanting to write about these four sentences in this post.

The gesture she makes at her own hair, just before she clams up, is not, I think, a mean girl's I'm-so-gorgeous primp. It's comic business that would have fit amusingly with the wisecrack that was never cracked. My friend, a woman who, like Fiorina, has recently regrown hair, feels sure she has the ability to recognize a shared dark humor about hair that women who have not gone through the experience don't pick up on. Hair is a big deal to women, and our ears perk up when we hear talk about other women's hair. [emphasis added]

I decided not to comment because the conversation was centered around whether it was not a joke but an insult, Fiorina's qualifications, how distractions hurt discussions about policy positions, and whether it's tacky or appropriate to bring up cancer.

Is hair very trivial in comparison to some of that commentary, and a little more trivial than most of it? Undoubtedly, but hair is what's been on my mind. I'm not a tabloid-reading pop culture addict, I just agree with the bolded sentence. Hair is important. I think it is important to men, too. (Yes, maybe not as important.) What's more, women's hair is important to men. (And yes, men's is important to women, but maybe not as important.)

Back to the hair twirl. It didn't strike me as either primping or a prop. I am not sure where she was going with her remarks, whether she had a punchline. Maybe not. What I saw in the gesture was self-consciousness about hair.

Not a political endorsement (and I don't live in CA anyway, so what difference does it make?), but I like Fiorina's hair. Reminds me a bit of my own. I've always loved my hair. It is a stylist's dream, will do anything. I've had it very long, long, medium, short, and short-short. Sometimes when it is short-short (or even short) I get a flash of self-consciousness, even though I prefer my hair very short.

In recent years, the grey has been creeping in. I resolved to never dye it, and I never will. (OK, when I was about 30, in an act of rebellion, I had a patch at my temple stripped and dyed purple - sadly, it was a disaster. But that isn't the same thing.) Again, there are times when I have a flash of self-consciousness. I ask myself, maybe a woman my age should still have solid black hair? Or people will assume I am a lot older, because they never see women my age with grey (or even salt and pepper) hair?

I do not mean at all to liken this fleeting feeling to a woman's (or man's) experience with hair loss and regrowth due to chemotherapy. I've known several women in that position, I can only imagine what they were going through. I'd have to concede to their superior knowledge on the shared dark humor of hair loss.

Society does have expectations about hair. Both men and women internalize them. The idea that long hair (especially on young women) is sexy, feminine. Blondes v. brunettes v. redheads. Natural curly hair v. straightened hair. Bald men. Beards and mustaches. The rebellion of the '20s, with women cutting their long tresses. Perms. Dyed hair. Sideburns. Farrah. Tweezing, shaving, waxing, electrolysis. Shaved heads, mullets, mohawks.

There is something special and vibrant expressed when women who are undergoing chemotherapy wear a wild headscarf, or boldly take off their wigs, revealing baldness, or a cute undyed pixie. I remember Aunt Jean wore a white cap with flowery ruffles to Bob's graduation. Yes, I believe there is something darkly humorous about it that outsiders may appreciate, but maybe only others in the "club" can really identify with it.

Back to the bolded sentence above, which made me think of another hair story (again, nothing as dramatic as a cancer survivor's tale). A couple of years ago, my sister decided it was time to make the transition from Kiwi (as our brother called her) to natural. She'd started to go grey at about age 30, as Mimmie had, although unlike Mimmie, she dyed it black. After she had a grandchild, I think being a grey haired lady didn't seem so bad. Also, being grey in one's 50s isn't quite the same as being grey in one's 30s.

It took a year, but she did it. In that year, her hair was every blend of colors you can imagine. Her hair was the focus of so much attention, and a subject of conversation nearly every day in West Shokan. All people could talk about was her hair! Some loved it and some hated it, and said so! The transition is long over now, and her hair has settled into salt and pepper (mostly salt) and it looks great.

Back in January, she came to Bob's 50th birthday, and saw a couple of my friends whom she had not seen in years. After everyone who was traveling a distance left, we chatted for a while with our friends, caught them up on Bob's surgeries, etc. But what was the first and hottest topic? My sister's hair!!

Finally, this reminds me of this post, specifically this excerpt (written October 9, 1982):

As soon as I reached the age of reason, I rushed for the tweezers and plucked out practically all of my eyebrows. Or maybe that should be “eyebrow,” because I was, after all, only born with one.

Maybe it is time to join our “rebellious” sisters and let our hair all grow out. Truly, I despise the society which made sleek, smooth calves the prerequisite for femininity. But I am not among those who can break from tradition and proudly display what nature has given me intact. I admire those women, but I am somewhat too susceptible to popular opinion.

How sad! I hope she is found. Help find a lost dog.

Paragallo: Pictures of sick horses biased abuse trial -- Page 1 -- Times Union - Albany NY

Why is this creep out? Makes me sick.

Wow, hot today!! The seeds are up. A critter ate the coleus. (Odd. First time that has happened. What eats coleus besides bugs?) Some of my wonderful flowers:

Almost forgot, Bob had his eight week follow up, and is healing well physically. Still restricted - no more than 10 pounds of lifting, no more exercise than short walks three times per week, no extreme dieting.

I'm a person who likes silence. Or maybe I should make that natural sounds - I can hear birds chirping outside of my window, and that is nice. I don't play music very often when I am working on my classes, gardening or cleaning the house, and the sound of the television annoys me when I am not in the room. I tolerate NPR because Bob likes it and he is not a person to be disturbed by music, television or radio (in fact he prefers to have it on), but I never have the radio on when he isn't home. I just can't stand the sound of all the chattering, even when it is a program I like - it distracts me too much from my own thoughts.

Today I was thinking how much I hate it when I hear a plane fly over. It is a noise that really bugs me, and sometimes I even feel a little afraid, like it is going to crash into my house.

I knew a guy in college who lived near the airport, either JFK or LaGuardia, can't remember which. He said you had to be insane to live there, and that after many years in their house, his parents WERE crazy. Shouting, and always on edge. I don't think the fear of having a plane crash in your neighborhood is what he meant, more the deafening noise and constant rattling of the house. Luckily I don't hear planes fly over very often, but even at that, it is an irritating sound when it happens.

On the other hand, I just heard the train go by, and that doesn't bother me a bit. It's an almost romantic sound, the whistle blows as it rushes through the village, it is historic. I am not close enough to the tracks for my house to rattle, the way they do on Main Street. Probably if I lived down there, I would not like it as much. But I still doubt it would annoy me as much as the airplane sound.

Paterson: State layoff schedule could be moved up -- Page 1 -- Times Union - Albany NY.

News flash to Governor Paterson: SHUT UP. I am so tired of his constant BS. He can whine all he wants about trying to be responsible and the state's fiscal situation. Yes, I know there is a kernel of truth in his chicken little rantings. But he is responsible for eroding public confidence. He is responsible for the damage his constant hysterics generate. Why he hates state workers is beyond me. Why did he agree to run with Spitzer anyway? I really wish he (Paterson) was running for Governor this year so I could have the pleasure of seeing him go down to historic defeat.

BTW, I've very proud that my student evaluations give me and my courses over 4.5 out of 5 every semester. Right now, I have 50 students in my summer session class. Even with the summer large enrollment incentive (keep in mind there is no guarantee I will get it), that translates to $106 per student. Meanwhile, the State takes in $31,050 for the class, not including fees. In the summer I use zero state resources; I bought my computer, my office is in my house, my telephones are just that - mine. All my supplies come from Staples. I buy a lot of educational materials (books, videos) every semester that I share with students. Do I get reimbursed for any of that? No.

I know it probably sounds like I am complaining, but I'm really not. I feel very lucky to work from home in the summer, to get time to garden, write, read, and be with my animals, and to have an intellectually stimulating job all year that suits me better than any I've had in the past. My pay may not be what I could get in other positions (although "it's not a bad way to make a living," as my father would say), but I get great benefits.

However, I am tired of being among the group of people that Paterson (and non-public sector workers) regularly target for ridicule. What I am doing is practically volunteer work, and the State makes money from my labor. Just because I enjoy it and am good at it, doesn't mean I don't deserve to be paid! And I certainly don't warrant the constant negative characterizations and endless threats that come out of the Governor's mouth.

So chill out. Then do us all a favor and go away.

I am going to do this walk. It will be my first effort since spraining my ankle last year (although as I've written many times recently, in that same year my arms have gotten stronger from lifting etc.). Hope the weather is as nice as it is today!

Taking advantage of the beautiful day - I am going to put up the fence around the garden. Yesterday we attempted to go strawberry picking, but got rained out. So we bought two quarts at a farm stand, and plan to try again on Friday.

I have a draft story / snippet about strawberry pickin' and Mimmie - it was something she loved. Someday I will work on it more, get it into shape, and try to get it published.

Ande has developed a strange odor. I am at a loss, since Edna never had a single issue when she was young. Or old, for that matter. He seems fine otherwise, he is eating and active, but he doesn't seem to be grooming much. I've never had a pet with white fur who wasn't OCD about keeping it immaculate. He is very docile and lets me wipe him with a wet washcloth, which helps a little, but I am not sure where the stink is coming from - but it could be his face. I treated his ears, looked in his mouth and don't see anything obvious.

Lately there have been several stories in the news about high school seniors doing extreme pranks at their high schools. I am sure all of us remember pranks on Halloween, or after prom or graduation, but as I recall, the majority were pretty harmless, of the toilet paper variety. I admit, as an adult, toilet papering annoys me, but it isn't that big of a deal. Kids will be kids. Occasionally in my day there may have been an act of vandalism, but I don't remember that happening often, especially not at the school itself. So what is going on with these kids?

I stopped ignoring prompts from Blogger to change my template. I am afraid it is too busy, but I have spent enough time fooling with it already!

Yesterday I finally finished planting! It was a long day of hard work in the hot sun. Should have had someone take a picture of me at 7 pm, before I showered! What a sight! I knew the weather forecast had been changed to rain for both days of the weekend, so I only had one day to rototill, weed whack, and plant seeds. I didn't want to wait until next week to get in the cucumbers and beans, since it is very late already. I also cut back a lot of trees and bushes. Nature really takes over! I expected to be crippled up today, but I am not at all. Bob's long recovery has worked wonders for my fitness level.

And...the fat kitty got a home! Yay!

A couple of links today...

My niece and her husband guest posted this story about food and celebration on his cousin's foodie blog (which has a great name, btw).

And here's more on that fat cat -- he actually weighs 36 pounds! They put him up for adoption today.

The MHRHS recently took in a 30 pound stray cat. Here's a funny take on the story. (Note to animal lovers, that second link is not at all offensive, just in case you are worried.)

Added: More details here.

About all the dogs do at this point is sleep on their new LL Bean dog beds. What great product that company sells! Here's Sam on his green bed.

We took Amtrak to NYC Saturday, went to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, walked down to see Freedom Tower (as Mark Twain wrote, it is 15 or so floors of the "bones" of the building at this point), and had dinner with Bob's brother, sister-in-law, and second cousin (who is visiting from Germany) at Nobu.

The museum is worth the trip! Wonderful social history. We saw the tour "The Moores" about an Irish family who immigrated right during the big wave caused by the potato famine. I chose that tour because the three of us (me, Bob, my brother-in-law) are each 1/4 Irish. Their paternal grandmother and my maternal grandmother were all Irish. I am not sure when their grandma's family came to the US, but Mimmie's grandparents were immigrants who I am sure came here due to the famine.

It was hotter than you-know-what, but I could have seen all the tours back-to-back. They take an hour each. I'm not at all heat tolerant, but there are a few activities I love to do so much, such as gardening or visiting museums and historic sites, where the heat barely is on my radar screen.

The docent (who was top notch) mentioned that the neighborhood declined and then gentrified after the building was boarded up in 1935, so that an apartment nearby now is almost completely out of reach for new immigrants. I was struck, as I have been many times in the past while sitting in my own house, that the flip side to gentrification's impact on poor and working class people is that highly educated professionals then lived in mansions, but now live in the tiny little spaces formerly inhabited by factory workers and domestic staff.

One container tomato in, three to go. Today I planted some basil seeds (that came free on boxes of Triscuits), and weed whacked the yard (again!) too. Had to replace the string on the weed whacker, that was a first. It wasn't too difficult. Sunday I hope to rototill the garden, plant cucumber and bean seeds, and the remaining three container tomatoes, then I'm done planting. Wow, it's hot out there!!

Now Betty is the "last man standing!"

I hope to hear more details of this incredible story!

I finally planted! Finished the flowers and herbs, still have to plant the container tomatoes and rototill so I can put in cucumbers and green beans. Keeping my fingers crossed that the blight misses me, and the weather is better this summer than last.

I read the referenced letter in this morning's TU and agreed completely with the writer. I've noticed this too, in the endless ads from lobby groups that are on television right now because of the budget crisis, and in the rhetoric from various candidates. It's an example of reification, a type of generalization.

This was taken at the parade in West Shokan. I couldn't be there this year :-(, but here is a link to Christmas Paper, a somewhat related story I wrote that appeared in the Daily Freeman four years ago.

Sophie loves her new dog LL Bean dog bed!


I just bought a third dog bed in a week. Problem: the hotdog is having a hard time jumping on the couch. She's 11, getting old for a Basset. I have to lift her, and she's heavy and not all that cooperative. All our current dog beds are cheap, worn out, and/or too small. She hated the first one that I bought online (not from LL Bean, rather from a company that I often use to buy pet supplies, but her hatred has nothing to do with the quality, and it isn't the company's fault (plus they are taking it back), so I will leave them out of it), and there was lots of drama. Second one was bought impulsively at the LL Bean store, and she loves it.

But more drama followed; Sam also wants it, so Sophie hides under bed. Ergo, identical LL Bean bed was ordered online and it came today. Make that nearly identical, luckily they don't seem to mind that they are different colors. (Sam's is green.)

I scanned my story from Spring 2010's Kaatskill Life, It's A Wonder We Didn't Get Drownded.

Also started to tinker with the Gully Brook Press website a little. Maybe I will finally finish restoring what I lost when AOL hometown disappeared.

Must be obvious by now that I have a lot more time to write here. My posting decreases to a trickle when I have a lot of other demands. I expected to be away this weekend, but it turns out I am home. I do have a lot of stuff I plan to do (the garden!!) but since it isn't beastly hot today, my office is very pleasant, and so the PC was calling. (Not that gardening is better at 90 degrees...
hmmm...rethink that maybe? Nah...)

A couple of weeks ago we attended a retirement party for a favorite professor of ours from undergraduate days. I wanted to make him something for the event, and so I went through a stack of old notebooks from that time. (Yes, I still have most of my college notebooks and even a few from high school, stored among cobwebs and dust on a shelf in the stairwell.) I photocopied some of the pages of notes, mostly things he said about the readings that were discusssed in class, found some pictures of campus and made a big card out of a new notebook.

During that process, I skimmed through several of my old journals. I was a prolific writer at that time. (Not that I don't write quite a bit now, but aging and years of education have changed my style.) I scribbled down journal entries, short stories and fragments, poetry, all sorts of observations, and illustrated some of them too.

Some things amused me, jumped out at me, things that I want to document electronically. I am not sure whether paper ephemera or its electronic cousin will last longer. Will I still be able to access this in 30 years? Some of Elwyn's diaries are 100 years old and they aren't in bad shape.

Anyway, here's a sample...

April 18, '78

We got a new television today, so we watched the Holocaust in real color instead of the pea-soup green that our other television broadcast in. My father hooked it up between commercials. It made us all feel really good to see a TV ad about two minutes later which said, “Panasonic is better than SONY…Panasonic is better than RCA…Panasonic is better than Zenith!” ‘cause our new TV is a Zenith.

August 31, ‘81

Today’s Chuckle: How not to do it

“My dear,” he said, “that’s a poetic name!”

“Thank you,” she replied, emotionlessly.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a moustache?” he asked.

“I think I’ve heard this routine before," she replied, leaving.



September 2, '81

“Please listen to what I’m not saying.”

“Don’t expect anything and you’ll never be disappointed.”

October 9, '82

As soon as I reached the age of reason, I rushed for the tweezers and plucked out practically all of my eyebrows. Or maybe that should be “eyebrow,” because I was, after all, only born with one.

Maybe it is time to join our “rebellious” sisters and let our hair all grow out. Truly, I despise the society which made sleek, smooth calves the prerequisite for femininity. But I am not among those who can break from tradition and proudly display what nature has given me intact. I admire those women, but I am somewhat too susceptible to popular opinion.

Undated

“I’m not a native,” she confided, and I smiled a little, because this statement puzzled me. “No, she continued, “I didn’t come here until I was married.” Then I was really amused, because Mimmie was born and raised in West Hurley, a town twelve miles south of where she now lives, though outside of our town borders. A trivial thing to someone not from the Catskills, but for a resident of my hometown, that meant you weren’t a native.

To me, though born and raised in the town of Olive, West Hurley is close enough. At my present location, some 85 miles northwest of where that conversation took place, I often encounter people who consider me still living in my area. As I enter my final year here, it is with regret that I acknowledge my time here is nearing an end.

In 1978, I viewed things somewhat differently. Oneonta, considered home to me now, seemed a booming metropolis, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. And indeed, from the vantage point of a girl raised in West Shokan, a mountainous hamlet boasting a population of 300, Oneonta’s side-walked streets and hilly surroundings filled me with fear, and longing to be back in the community which was familiar to me.

The other students surprised me, the majority of whom were from New York City and the metropolitan area. They considered Oneonta a boring “hick” town, a cultural vacuum, and a number of other uncomplimentary adjectives. I recalled that my mother once confided, “if anyone ever asks me ‘how can you live in this little hick town?’ I always reply “well, I am a hick! And I’m proud of it!”

I was proud, too. I challenged anyone in my dorm to display more town pride than I.

My mother’s family had lived in my town - well, for generations. (My grandmother, though, as I wrote before, doesn’t consider herself a native.) My father can’t claim that status either...for a very real reason. He’s only been a resident for 35 years or so (!), the place of his birth being Philadelphia.



Mimmie's recipe notebook, from 1926

This is so cute!

Funny column!

And finally, yay and yay again!

I didn't bother to take the test described here, but I have taken the written test for a driving permit four times in my life, most recently a year ago.

I got a score of 100 every time. I did notice that there are a lot of questions now about DWI, so the test is about half road signs, half DWI questions. In the past, I remember there being more questions on things such as right of way, emergency situations and exotic turns.

I've written more extensively about my efforts to get a license here.

On Saturday, we went to the Ghent Playhouse and saw Prisoner of Second Avenue. It was fantastic! The '70s economic situation really resonated. And the playhouse itself is such a great re-use of the old town hall.

My 30th wedding anniversary today!



The cake topper 30 years later. A metaphor for life, perhaps? :-)



It was a beautiful day 30 years ago, and it is a beautiful day today. "Thank you for all of my blessings," as I whisper every night before I go to sleep, or whenever somone asks me to say Grace.

While I'm at it, I am going to air an unrelated (to the last post) gripe about the TU blogs. Most of the regular reporters treat them too much like just a part of their job. That means "banker's hours," very M-F 9 to 5-ish. Posts are few and far between at other times, relevant stories are missed, and comments go unmoderated, which completely kills the thread because commenter dialogue is disjointed. They also give "hat tips" in print to blogs that are not very active. Whatever the (many) flaws of the TU, its electronic presence is impressive, but this isn't what blogs are supposed to be.

I read the Times Union blogs sometimes, and comment occasionally. A couple of days ago I read a post on one (that I am not linking because it was not related at all to what I am going to write) where a brief mention was made that the newspaper had hired a new reporter.

The new reporter is a former editor of the Albany Student Press. Nothing earth-shattering there, except that he was the editor in 2005 when the front-page story plagiarized the Capital District Business Review on a story about the Albany Advocates and UAlbany's party school ranking. I still remember the case because I had the plagiarizer in my class a year before it happened, and I remember the editor's name because I now use the incident as an example when we cover ethics and academic dishonesty in my Toleration class. So I read the articles about the case every semester.

I guess it struck me especially because I just caught a student being dishonest, after a break for several semesters from discovering anyone.

I wonder whether this incident is discussed when he is interviewing for a job? I think it has to be the most significant learning experience of his life as an editor. Did he really learn from the incident, as he advised he would when he wrote the column acknowledging the "mistake" at that time?

His column then was very unconvincing to me. I'll be watching his TU reporting very carefully.

I finally finished grading!! It was done at 8:45 last night. So I had over three hours before the deadline. I caught one student plagiarizing, which barely gets a rise out of me any longer, although it has been a couple of years since I discovered an instance. So today was spent working on a report related to it, rather than getting to all the other tasks that have been on the back burner while I tallied grades. For the next few days (unless something else unexpected crops up) I'll have to devote my time to my advisement duties. And then I can get some personal things done, such as finishing assembling the new furniture. Or maybe rototilling the garden, assuming it dries out enough.

Besides finding a student being academically dishonest, yesterday I learned that the archive of my summer session class from last year can't be found. The best they can do is two years ago. This means more than the usual revisions. Very irritating waste of time. It isn't the first time this has happened since we switched courseware in '08. Some things are better, but the archiving situation is not one of them. Data loss never happened before the transition, or at least it never happened to me.

Bob returned to work part-time on Monday. He's been going in about 6 hours per day. Doing well, getting used to normal clothes, but he is tired in the afternoon. Tomorrow he has a follow up doctor's appointment.

Carol Burnette was at Proctor's tonight. Wish I could have gone, always loved her show. In the "old days" we would have gone, but we've gotten frugal, and the $20 cheap seats aren't worth the hassle (of obstructed view).

Up to my eyeballs in grading! So many things to write about, but no time.

Betty White was so good on SNL...that it made me realize (even more than I already knew) how much the show has sucked for the past 30 years. The show tonight (I guess technically it was last night, but I haven't been to bed yet so...) was great. She was awesome. You go, girl!!!

Last day of classes was yesterday! Always bittersweet. Grades are due May 17.

Looks like the furloughs are likely...

I've been interested in the subject of death since I was a teenager, searching for meaning. At that time, I read all sorts of books on the topic and discussed it with "elders," and took a few anthro-type courses about death in college. I've never been creeped out, as some are, by cemeteries, places and spaces where people die, funerals, the dying, etc. I am trustee for a cemetery, and also live near one. So the phenomenon of shrines interests me.

I didn't feel like repeating this in a comment, but I wrote about roadside memorials here. When I was considering updated thoughts on this issue, what came to mind is a shrine that is on Brookview Road. A 16 year old boy who was riding a bicycle was hit by a drunk driver who left the scene. There was an elaborate memorial near a stone wall at the accident site. It stayed there for years, growing less elaborate over time, but still refreshed every so often. There is now just one of those perpetual flames on the spot.

The house is beautiful, as is the wall, and I guess the people who live there don't mind the memorial, or perhaps participate in maintaining it, I don't know. The boy's (who would now be a young man) family lives only a few houses away. I discovered I wrote about this already, when it happened, here.

This isn't about roadside memorials for car crash victims, but I wrote on the subject of shrines in cemeteries here (as well as other things! The shrine part is the third paragraph).

In Albany there is a bicycle, brightly painted and adorned with flowers and ribbons, chained to a light pole on Western Avenue. It marks the intersection where a woman was hit and killed a few years ago.

The idea of shrines is an interesting cultural phenomenon. Frankly, I don't have a problem with it, although I doubt it is something I would do. If it is private property, I think it should be between the homeowner and the bereaved. Kind people of good sense should not have a problem working it out, how long it stays, etc. I think the owners of the house with the stone wall are a wonderful example.

If it is public property, if it causes problems with traffic visability or danger to memorial visitors, then I think the time could be limited, perhaps an alternate location suggested if the time has to be (too) short. If it is in a place where it doesn't matter, who cares? Why can't we be compassinate, and not judgmental? For instance, the bike is not in a place where it causes problems, why increase the pain to her loved ones?

Besides comforting people who are grieving, I do think the memorials may serve as a reminder to passersby that driving can be dangerous, and life is fleeting, so wake up! Not a bad thing, IMO.

It's too bad that many of the links in those old posts don't work. That's a hassle with the web.

Last class of the semester for Thursday night, and it ended on a good note. Yippee! My sense is that my (average) afternoon class and my (troublesome) Thursday evening class did fine. It was my (wonderful) Tuesday evening class that seems to have taken the biggest hit from my two week hiatus! Go figure!

Something happened in that class - a guy had a panic episode during his group's presentation, and he packed up and left. They handled it beautifully, but the following week, a bunch of students bailed at the break, and the following week when I was back, attendance was terrible. I don't know if any of it is related to the student who bailed during the presentation, and I don't know if his panic was aggravated by my absence.

Anyway, one more campus day (5/4), and then grades are due May 17. The spring semester of 2010 draws to a close - and marks my tenth year of teaching. Still love it!! (Furlough or not.)

Although...the furlough thing has me furious. I work from home three days per week, and go to campus twice a week. I have the same workload regardless of whether I am getting an unpaid "day off," whatever that means. I doubt the university is going to suspend classes (not that it would matter until Fall at this point) and the May 17 deadline isn't changing. Finally, I will get paid this summer for an assignment I actually completed during the Spring - it is done this way for cash flow reasons, so summer session isn't as much of a shock. So if the furlough goes through, not only will I be paid 20 percent less for the same work, they will take some money back from me that I already earned, for a time when other workers were not being furloughed.

I have sympathy for the state's dire financial situation, but I don't think the furlough idea is a good solution. The spillover to restaurants, retail, contractors will be felt. Big time. Frankly, it feels like a direct shot at the Capital District.

However, the legislature so doesn't have its act together that I predict the budget extender won't pass (not to mention the actual budget...not on the horizon at all). So then it will be script instead of furlough?

Yay! Rudy was on Pet Connection in 1995.

Don't let the screen door hit you in the a-s. Good riddance. Poor Carleton.

In other news, this is a sad situation. I once worked for someone who had the same sort of attitude. I doubt she would have stolen or misused public resources, but she definitely would have agreed that "arts are different." While I have sympathy for that sentiment, I am a strict objectivist on ethical issues. I've no reason to doubt that the director is a charming, charismatic, dedicated person, but what is especially irritating is that her sense of entitlement has put the Institute at risk - at a time when the state is closing parks, cutting essential services, etc., she made it easier to justify axing NYSTI, and that is despicable. But it doesn't sound like she will take responsibility, which is pathetic.

His follow-up appointment went well. They took the left drain out, and left the right one in. We were a little concerned, because the left was looking inflamed. But the volume was very low, and removing it should take care of the inflammation.

Afterwards, we had lunch at the Fountain. His first restaurant outing since last Tuesday, 4/13! (That's a long time for us.)

Bob is doing well. Watching a lot of TV. (Which under normal circumstances would drive me crazy, but I am (of course) being tolerant.) I weed whacked the yard, hoping he might venture out, but he hasn't yet. His follow-up appointment is tomorrow.

Here are some new pictures of the animals:


Ande likes the sun spot in the livingroom. Sam's toy is a good substitute futon for him, he is so little.


Sophie likes the sun spot too. I think this is the first time they have been so close while resting, sharing a space. (Ande would like to interact more, but Sophie is a "zero" on the cat scale.)


Had to get one of Sam. He doesn't really care about the sun spot.

Things are going really well.

Bob came home from the hospital today and is doing great! The best after any surgery. This is how I thought the first surgery would go last year. Hopefully this is the last one!

I hope this dog finds a great home.

Finished the taxes! Yay! One more thing off the to do list. What an awful task that is every year. Half the awful-ness is the realization of how much was paid in total (this is true regardless of whether filing results in a refund, having to pay in more, or a break even between state and fed) - kind of like the matrix, better to not know :-) and the other half of the awful-ness are the esoteric instructions [anyone know whether there is a state form for 1099-MISC the way there is for 1099-R and the W-2? I searched in vain...].

I added my twitter feed to this page. I tried to add it to facebook, but for some reason it isn't letting me log into my twitter account to enable it. I can log into twitter without a problem, but installing the application to add the twitter tab to fb requires logging into twitter during the process, and that doesn't work. I tried it both ways, from fb and from twitter. Oh well, must be some glitch.

Bob had his pre-operative appointments this morning. Afterwards we had lunch at the Recovery Room, in the Hilton Hotel across the street from the hospital. It was all deja vu. I am trying to manage my anxiety. I have a nearly constant low-level feeling of anxiousness for the past few days, and it is getting worse as Thursday is approaching. Missing my classes isn't helping. I tend to lapse into self-consciousness anyway, when I don't have work to focus on. I'm trying to keep it in check so that Bob doesn't get burdened with it. He has enough on his mind. He has a good attitude and is trying to be optimistic but it's hard to not be apprehensive. I know he is inside.

Last night we went to see Gypsy at Cohoes Music Hall. The theatre was built in 1874, the same year my grandfather was born. The seats are uncomfortable, but they put on very good performances there. I'm not much of a Sondheim fan, but Gypsy was great. As I watched it, I remembered seeing the movie version (with Natalie Wood) when I was a kid. Also interesting, the real-life Baby June died on March 28 at age ~98.

I made a mistake yesterday. It really illustrates that there is always the chance of something unexpected happening in the classroom. In holding to the premise that disclosure is good, I marched into my afternoon class yesterday and before I snapped in the video on charter schools that I planned to show, I announced that due to Bob's surgery, I will miss their presentations next week, and that the department chair will be substituting for me for the next two weeks. (That is the optimistic plan; there is also the pessimistic side: a chance that I will miss the rest of the semester, but I am choosing to believe that repair #4 will be the charm).

Hands shot up all over the room. Several faces almost looked like they might cry. I felt like a non-custodial parent who misses their kid's little league championship when they promised to be there.

I realized my mistake immediately. I should not have hit them with this news without having time to address all their concerns. I should have waited until Thursday, when I will have the time to hear them out and respond. I managed to field a few questions, and promised to fully discuss everything on Thursday. One question I took was whether the department chair will be participating in their assessment. Well, yes, to a degree. He will be taking notes of things that strike him. But I will still evaluate them, and much of the 20 points is determined by something other than the actual performance.

I took a lesson from this when I told the evening class. I do have the time in that class to field questions since it is longer. I told them how sorry I am to miss their big day and at the same time how proud I am to showcase what I am sure will be their outstanding efforts. The shock of the afternoon students gave me an idea about remaining connected. I gave them my personal email address since I check it on my blackberry, and the twitter name (howzerdo) where I will post brief updates (hate the word "tweet," find it an insult to birds) on surgery day, and during his hospitalization and recovery. (I don't plan to use it otherwise.)

One question several students in the evening section had was whether the department chair will ask them questions after their presentations. It was at that point I realized that presenting is a difficult task - it was for me as an undergraduate, and in fact, until I started teaching, I was afraid of public speaking. I had to answer yes, I think so, but he won't be trying to trip you up, so don't worry.

I promised them that I plan to err on the side of generosity with their grades.

One more class to tell tomorrow. It's the tricky one with the great midterms. Wish me luck.

You could knock me over with a feather. The class I wrote about here and here submitted the strongest batch of midterms I can remember. What a relief...both having them graded, and that they were very good.

Liz Bishop and John Gray advanced to the bobblehead vote finals! YAY!

There has been some attention on the TU blogs of the popularity contest nature of the competition, and that not enough attention has been paid to the charities. I think this competitor has been most sensitive to the criticism. While I understand the critics' point and don't like popularity contests myself, I am not that much more comfortable making it a popularity contest for charities instead of local media folks. Hopice v. Special Olympics? How could I ever choose? Special Olympics is sports-related, maybe that should be the deciding factor. But I know Hospice is a terrific organization. Choosing between charities would only work for me if one was an animal welfare organization. Everyone knows what I'd choose!

Basing it on the charity really doesn't work because people who go to the game are getting a doll, not a tee-shirt with the charity's name. Which face do they want on the shelf? I assume that's how most fans are deciding. But I won't be going to the game and getting one, so I don't care about the actual doll. Then, why do I care at all? Well, because it is a fun kudo for the winner. Why not just admit that?

I am really torn. Choose Liz because she started out as a sports reporter and broke barriers, or John who is so "hometown Troy" and writes my favorite newspaper column?

More ESP photos.





Bob's surgery is now scheduled for April 15! I have a LOT of schedule scrambling to do.

Dan DiNicola died last week, and I watched some of his old videos on WRGB:

Video 1

Video 2

Back here I linked to a post with lots of nice pictures, and Empire Plaza was called an "atrocity."

I thought I'd share what it looks like from inside the "atrocity." Here are some pictures Bob took with his blackberry from his new office. He moved from Troy to Corning Tower in Empire Plaza yesterday. The best part is that it cut his commute from more than a half hour to 15 minutes, but he is absolutely loving the view.

Looking toward I-787, Rensselaer and the Hudson River



Looking toward the Plaza, the Capitol and the Egg



A corner office ~ way to go Bob!

The detective wannabe in me thinks there is more to this story than meets the eye, that someday it will be one of those 48 Hour Mysteries type stories. It's a real tragedy. There are many comments on the stories at the Times Union and Buffalo News defending the home owner, many questioning the home owner's actions, and a few from people who know the victim. Lots of speculation. I say there are many questions and more details have to come out before the truth will be revealed.

The news stories report that both the victim and the home owner are good, upstanding people. I have no reason to doubt this, so I would believe that the victim was partying hardy with old college friends at a happy life milestone celebration, that he had too much to drink, that the suburban houses look alike, that he went into the wrong one accidentally, was acting stupid drunk, the home owner freaked because a stranger who was acting strange was in the house, interpreted it as a threat or was seized by panic, and he shot him. One could use it as an example of a home owner protecting their own life, family and private property, of the risks of violence when guns are handy, of the tragic outcomes possible from drinking too much, of a sad accident that took a good person's life and that will probably haunt the shooter forever. That's what I would believe, and I'd see the many sides to this horrible story.

I know what I just wrote is all speculation (very few details have emerged at this point), but the detective in me says it just doesn't add up. I'm no stranger to partying foolishness (especially when I was 31), but I can't remember an event, especially not one that was connected to a baby shower, having zero responsible people there - people like me who hardly ever lose control, even when partying. Who take car keys, make food and offer water. Wasn't there anyone at the party who noticed their drunk friend wandering off?

Then, I grew up in a place where locking doors was not always a given, but even then, when I was a teenager, the practice became pretty standard, especially at night. What are the odds that this guy chose the unlocked house? Wouldn't someone who was concerned enough for safety to rely on a gun lock their doors? Again, as a "responsible" person (I always turn lights off, be sure the stove is off, etc.), I am vigilant about locking the doors - and I am not all that scared of crime. It doesn't say that the door was unlocked, but even if the victim was pretty drunk, if he was the kind of person the news is reporting, how could it be that he had the skills or inclination to break in?

Something else interesting that is unrelated to it not adding up. I haven't "scientifically" tallied a qualitative analysis - but it seems to me that more of the comments at the Buffalo News site are supportive of the home owner, while more of the comments at the Times Union are supportive of the victim. An example, I think of being more comfortable believing bad things about "the other" and excusing the actions of your own, something we study in my Toleration class. "Your own" in this case would be "local."

This story brought tears to my eyes.

On another subject...

I was thinking that it was 4 years between publications. In 2006, my education book came out, and "Christmas Paper" appeared in the Freeman. I sent "It's A Wonder We Didn't Get Drownded" in eleven months ago, and it was accepted for publication in October.

When I went from administration to teaching, I thought I'd have more time for writing and marketing of my writing. That hasn't been the case, teaching demands a lot of time. And when I have free time (mostly in the summer) the garden and outdoors are irresistable.

I do like teaching better than administration, so it hasn't been a bad decision.

But I would like to see my name in print more than once every four years. I have to make it a priority this summer.

The Spring issue of Kaatskill Life is out! My story is on page 32. I'm psyched, it came out great! They used all three pictures (two postcards and a picture of Mimmie sitting at her kitchen table). They have a website but don't put entire issues online (and they haven't updated it to reflect the Spring issue yet).

Read the source for this startling graphic here.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

We've been painting our bedroom. Last time it was done was over twenty years ago, so it definitely was a long time coming. It is green - just like almost every other room (although of course it is a different shade). That's a favorite color, or maybe the favorite color...Next weekend we will put in a much needed closet - then we will be done!

Last night's class went OK. Tough subjects even during my better classes - ethics and academic honesty. I always get a lot of "lip" from a few - they argue that cheating is not so bad / justified / not a reflection of students' moral character etc. depending on the situation. I always wind up telling them this is not a relativist subject and while I favor constructivism as a learning style, in this case I am a strict objectivist, as is the university, and their "feelings" don't matter. It comes as a surprise because I generally encourage all types of debate.

I knew it would be especially explosive last night in this class, and it was. A lot of the usual push back, but there is a student who is quite bright and participatory who argued a different (and I confess interesting) angle: if someone who excels in science is a bad writer, what is the big deal with cheating in a general education requirement? Of course I discounted that perspective, asked why is the university admitting students with bad writing skills? Agreed that gen eds may be BS, but that's the deal with getting a degree and the way to address it is not through cheating, that such strategy equals low ethics and raises doubts about whether such students would eventally find reasons to justify falsifying research in their fields. Finished off with saying, these sort of people would never be my friends.

I guess this is why I was preoccupied yesterday. Glad it is over.

Ugh. This has become such a common story recently that I almost didn't link it. But then I remembered that today I have been thinking of how much I dislike Thursdays, because I am not crazy about my night class.

I haven't had a class that I consider less than successful in quite a few semesters. The reason this time around is a general negative vibe. Also the students don't seem prepared. It's terrible that a handful of students spoil the atmosphere (the vast majority of students are great), but what can you do? I noticed the dynamic immediately and made an effort to change it - which has worked to some degree, but not completely. I find myself having to be way too much of a controlling behaviorist, and I don't like that style of teaching.

So here it is, halfway through the semester, and I dread going to class; counting the days until it's a wrap. I will give out the midterm this evening, which should be a wake-up call. Unfortunately, I have a feeling the call won't be heard until less than stellar grades are reported (as undoubtedly will happen), seeing the questions won't be enough.

Now you may wonder what this has to do with the disgusting linked story? Well, this isn't the reason for my low opinion of the class, but last week I was teasing some students during discussion about a question that had to do with animals (and I have made it clear many times how much I love them), when one of them shouted, "I hate animals." She wasn't kidding, she was deadly serious.

OK, not everyone has to feel as I do, she isn't a candidate for being a personal friend in real life (or on facebook) and it certainly has nothing to do with how she will be graded, or really with the negative atmosphere of class. I don't dislike this student, in fact I approve of students who participate, regardless of what they contribute. But it struck me as extreme cluelessness - the professor has clearly stated her passion for her pets during the class go-around, and when I am telling stories during lectures. So it would be a good idea to keep your mouth shut on this issue, even though I was teasing the group, and I doubt the student intended to be mean-spirited. However, I consider it disrespect and a direct in-my-face challenge, to be honest - a perfect demonstration of why I don't like going to class every Thursday.

So the actions of the degenerate in the TU story I linked - not a surprise. This student would probably shrug at his behavior.

I didn't vote because I think they all deserve to win! Yay for dogs!

Well, the eighth (!) anniversary of Gully Brook Press passed yesterday and I didn't even remember it until just now.

My building on campus has been in the process of renovation for the past couple of years, and today they are finally up to the third floor. It was (still is) kind of shabby, I guess, and when they are done it is much nicer - but I am a little freaked out because I know there is asbestos up there...

...also it makes a lot of noise, which I can't stand.

Woke up to more snow. Had coffee and breakfast, got dressed, went outside to shovel...and discovered my neighbors had already done it for me!

Our beautiful Schodack Island State Park is on the closure list




NYS State Parks Closing List:

Long Island
Brookhaven State Park Suffolk Close Park
Bethpage State Park Suffolk Eliminate Winter Sports;
Reduce picnic area and polo field
Caleb Smith State Park Preserve Suffolk Close Park
Cold Spring Harbor State Park Suffolk Close Park
Connetquot River State Park Suffolk Close Weekdays
Heckscher State Park Suffolk Close Swimming Pool
Jones Beach State Park Nassau Close West Swimming Pool;
Eliminate July 4th fireworks
Montauk Downs State Park Suffolk Close Swimming Pool
Nissequogue River State Park Suffolk Close Park
Orient Beach State Park Suffolk Close Park
Trail View State Park Suffolk Close Park

New York City Region
Bayswater Point State Park Queens Close Park
Riverbank State Park New York Reduce Operating Hours;
Close Outdoor Swimming Pool;
Eliminate Seniors Classes; and
Community/Cultural Events

Palisades Region
Fort Montgomery Historic Site Orange Close Historic Site
Harriman SP– Anthony Wayne Orange Close Park Area
Harriman SP – Group Camps Orange Reduce Maintenance
High Tor State Park Rockland Close Pool
Knox Headquarters Historic Site Orange Close Historic Site
New Windsor Cantonment SHS Orange Close Historic Site
Schunnemunk State Park Orange Close Park
Stony Point State Historic Site Orange Close Historic Site
Tallman Mountain State Park Rockland Close Pool

Taconic Region
Donald J. Trump State Park Westchester Close Park
FDR (Roosevelt) State Park Westchester Reduce Swimming Pool Season
Hudson Highlands State Park Putnam Close Arden Point Area
James Baird State Park Dutchess Reduce Golf Course Season
Mills Norrie State Park Dutchess Reduce Golf Course Season
Olana State Historic Site Columbia Close 2 Days per Week
Philipse Manor Hall Historic Site Westchester Close Historic Site
Rockefeller State Park Preserve Westchester Eliminate Interpretive Programs
Taconic Outdoor Education Center Putnam Eliminate Interpretive Programs
Taconic State Park – Rudd Pond Dutchess Close Rudd Pond Area
Wonder Lake State Park Putnam Close Park

Saratoga-Capital Region
Bennington Battlefield State Park Rensselaer Close Historic Site
Hudson River Islands State Park Rensselaer Close Park
John Boyd Thacher State Park Albany Close Park
John Brown Farm Historic Site Essex Close Historic Site
Johnson Hall State Historic Site Fulton Close Historic Site
Max V. Shaul State Park Schoharie Close Park
Schodack Island State Park Rensselaer Close Park
Schoharie Crossing Historic Site Schoharie Close Historic Site
Schuyler Mansion Historic Site Albany Close Historic Site

Central Region
Chittenango Falls State Park Madison Close Park
Clark Reservation State Park Onondaga Close Park
Fort Ontario State Historic Site Oswego Close Historic Site
Helen McNitt State Park Madison Close Park
Herkimer Home Historic Site Herkimer Close Historic Site
Hunts Pond State Park Chenango Close Park
Oquaga Creek State Park Broome Close Park
Old Erie Canal State Park Onondaga Close Park
Oriskany Battlefield/Steuben SHS Oneida Close Historic Site
Pixley Falls State Park Oneida Close Park
Robert Riddell State Park Delaware Close Park
Selkirk Shores State Park Oswego Close Public Swimming Beach

Finger Lakes Region
Beechwood State Park Wayne Close Park
Bonavista State Park Seneca Close Park
Chimney Bluffs State Park Wayne Close Park
Newtown Battlefield State Park Chemung Close Park
Springbrook Greens State Park Cayuga Close Park
Two Rivers State Park Tioga Close Park
Buttermilk Falls State Park Tompkins Close Public Swimming Area
Seneca Lake State Park Seneca Close Lake Swimming Beach
Stony Brook State Park Steuben Close Public Swimming Area

Thousand Islands Region
Canoe Island State Park Jefferson Close Park
Cedar Island State Park Jefferson Close Park
Eel Weir State Park St. Lawrence Close Park
Keewaydin State Park Jefferson Close Park
Macomb Reservation State Park Clinton Close Park
Mary Island State Park Jefferson Close Park
Point Au Roche State Park Clinton Close Park
Sackets Harbor State Historic Site Jefferson Close Historic Site

Genesee Region
Hamlin Beach State Park Monroe Close Swimming Beach 3 Days per Week
Oak Orchard State Marine Park Orleans Close Park
Regionwide Multiple Eliminate Camper Recreation Program

Niagara Region
Joseph Davis State Park Niagara Close Park
Knox Farm State Park Erie Close Park
Niagara Falls State Park Niagara Reduce Interpretive Programs
Wilson-Tuscarora State Park Niagara Close Park
Woodlawn Beach State Park Erie Close Park

Allegany Region
Allegany State Park Cattaraugus Close Quaker Area Swim Beach;
Close Quaker Cabins Area on December 1st;
Eliminate Winter Trails Maintenance;
Reduce Recreation Programs
Long Point State Park Chautauqua Close Park

I certainly got my work out this week! I'm quite proud of myself, actually. This was definitely what I always considered too much snow for me to shovel alone, but I did it! It took me a total of 4 hours - that's 1 hour the first night clearing the initial snowfall from the sidewalk, 2.5 hours on Wednesday doing what fell overnight on the sidewalk and along the curb in the street, and a half hour yesterday morning, to shovel out the car from the church parking lot. Yesterday morning had the most unpleasant conditions, since the second storm was just beginning, and it was nasty. I got soaked through. Wednesday was exhausting - the snow was as heavy as cement. We got almost entirely rain from the second storm, so I don't have to shovel today.

Amazing. The TU's reporters really take the cake when it comes to animals. Here it is again: "Don’t get me wrong, I’m an animal lover..."

First time it PO'ed me: HA HA HA HA. And, since the source here is the TU's most ditzy/snarky: LOL LOL LOL LOL.

In a world where this "reader" is thought to be normal, and the question posed is considered reasonable, is it any wonder that scum like Michael Vick and the dude who recently drowned and burned his cat in Albany walk free?

Lots going on, none of which I feel comfortable posting here yet. I've been busy, as usual, with the semester. It looks to be a stormy week - better have my shovel handy!

Snow today! I shoveled for about an hour but I am going to have to do more. This storm is right on the border for me - not quite enough to justify hiring someone but almost.

Having some hassles in two of my classes. Doesn't happen often but when it does, it is usually during the spring semester. In one class it is sort of an overall negative vibe and the other is due to one student acting up. As a result I am really happy to have a couple of days off (abbreviated Winter break).

Bob found out his surgery date: April 27.

District 9 was nominated for best picture? Huh? Got to be kidding! I had to do a double-take, thought maybe it was a list of Razzie, instead of Oscar nominees. I don't care if there are 10 nominees this year, no way should that movie be on the best picture list! It was one of the worst movies I have every watched, one of those films where you walk out mad because you were cheated! You wasted money and time, and it results in your not feeling like going to the movies for a while. If I had been home instead of trapped in a movie theatre, I would have turned it off. Bob fell asleep during it, and he loves sci fi.

In one way, it reminded me of Starship Troopers - great concept, wonderful beginning, then after a half hour, it descends into ridiculous. That wasn't so bad in Starship Troopers - I mean, you kind of knew all along where it was going: bug war. In District 9, they completely blow it. It was nothing more than 10 ideas copied from other popular recent movies, blended together into a meaningless extended chase scene. I always envision a bunch of "kids" sitting around a conference table throwing out ideas...hey, wouldn't it be great if we took that scene from the Matrix and combined it with that scene from War of the Worlds and got that guy who was in X to play the hero? "Wow dude that's genius!!!"

I suspect it landed on the list only because of the interesting setting, and the beginning was good, because aside from that, it sucked.

I wasn't assigned Catcher in the Rye in high school, and didn't read it until I was an adult. Maybe that influenced my perception, but I don't think so. I didn't like the book at all, and I hated Holden. I've never been able to understand why Salinger received such praise for writing it. If he wasn't so eccentric, would the book have been forgotten instead of becoming a modern classic?

How ridiculous. They are objecting to Mother Teresa getting a stamp? Other religious figures are on stamps. Be consistent, or get lost.

Very interesting site, this is a post about removing the Bresee's facade in Oneonta.

Update: I'm happy the building is being renovated, I believe in restoration, but still sad to see the facade's no more.

Late in the afternoon on Monday came the sounds of emergency vehicles and sirens. I knew something bad must have happened, something different than a fire. Shortly afterwards at the TU website I saw that someone had jumped from the Castleton bridge. The latest story is here.

That she was exactly my age freaks me out, but more than that, the whole concept of suicide freaks me out. I haven't written much on the subject here (surprising since I started GBP in 2002), but here is a post that mentions the topic and here is another.

I've known too many people who have committed suicide. I've never really understood it among the young either, but always thought in youth we don't understand that things will look a lot different in two weeks or two months or two years. I wonder what desperation, what heart break would drive someone my age to do it. Such a scary way to choose also, that bridge is so high up over the Hudson. Bob says maybe she was on one of those drugs that lists suicidal thoughts as a side effect?

Added: I should have remembered to link this too, another recent, horrible suicide tragedy.

I was so tired last night! But I will get used to my routine again. The two classes I had went well.

I was inundated with emails this past week or so from students asking to get permission numbers, since all my classes have been closed for a long time. That happens every semester, but it seemed even more so this Spring. I was worried there would be 25 people at each class asking to get in. I was prepared to take names and decide who would get in later, after prioritizing them.

I can't handle classes of more than 35, and I don't want all four of my classes to be even that big, I prefer around 30, maximum. It's too much work for me, and also the dynamics of the class suffer when enrollment is too large. This semester, with Bob's upcoming surgery, I am sure to fall behind in February, so I have to be especially careful not to over burden myself.

Luckily only a few showed up at each class, so I could let them all in. I guess students send mass spam emails to many professors and see what the responses are, they just want to get into any class and don't want to put in the effort to go to each one.

In the toleration class, I was a little concerned to see that there are only two freshmen. It is supposed to be a freshman class, and in the fall, 75 percent of the seats are reserved for new students. In the Spring, it is first come, first served, so the seats go quickly to seniors, juniors and sophomores, because they register first.

There are four or five students in the class who have taken classes with me before, and one student in my afternoon class - which always helps the class atmosphere.

My first day on campus is Thursday. It's always nerve-wracking, coming off a very peaceful and isolated month. The chaotic atmosphere and crush of people...

After a day or two it all becomes normal, though.

You can donate for Haiti at the Catholic Relief Services website. I can vouch for this organization, I have sponsored a girl in the Philippines for years through them.

My Kaatskill Life story is in final! Watch for the Spring issue.

A couple of stories in today's TU that really upset me:

1) Murder someone with your vehicle, get a "traffic ticket."

2) Diddle around with kids, get the case "adjourned in contemplation of dismissal" (and then sealed). Move on to become a repeat offender!

Spent yesterday afternoon on campus. Got into a hassle with a student - nothing serious, but it was still irritating.

In the morning Bob had a doctor appointment. The news isn't good. He's be having another surgery within the month.

Noted. Why does the "paper" constantly lament what we are interested in, and sniff about what we should be reading instead? And when the subject is animals - the horror! The economy! Healthcare! Climate Change! Needy people! So much more important!!

The irony - why do you suppose the linked post (and the two links within it) were written? To grab a bit of the traffic generated by Luna. "I love animals but..." don't you just love that? Why is it necessary? The writer knows what they are writing is pure evidence of just the opposite. But it shouldn't have been covered so much! But other things were neglected! And who cares anyway, wink-snark?

I haven't jumped into writing on this subject before today, but I was delighted when she was found, wondered what the h-ll was going on at the vet's office, and I say good for the owners that they were able to get the media and the community involved. The folks who blog for the TU must have to avoid the subject of pets to keep the workplace civil, you think?

I'm starting to get ready for the Spring semester. I'll be spending 1/2 day on campus tomorrow (where it will likely be very cold, as they turn the thermostat way down during intercession). First step: hoed out a lot of paper and assorted crap from the (home) office. Tomorrow is recycling pick-up day so it is a good time to get rid of old paper.

Happy birthday, Ma!

I'm very excited - today I am getting the new (well, released in September) Margaret Atwood book. That's the one pleasure read I wanted to do over the break.

Whenever I have these downtimes between semesters, I get to thinking that I wish I was a writer, rather than an instructor. I traded administration for teaching, but I really was dreaming of writing. Sigh. Writing just won't pay the bills, and there isn't enough time to change that.

Over the past couple of semesters, I have been seeking ways to make assessing students easier. I use a complex (and at times convoluted) portfolio model. It works great for the most part, but it is A LOT of work. With 110 students per semester, it can drive me to the breaking point three times per year...and when the year is like the last one, that isn't a good point to be.

I managed to chop peer assessment by half; usually I require students to evaluate peers twice, for the past two semesters, I made them do it only once. That one change really cut down on the time needed for data import, checking, etc., and I found that replacing one peer assessment with other measures I already collect that don't require input worked just as well.

Then today, I learned something new! (I'm excited because that doesn't often happen.) I have been struggling with how to share grade breakdowns with students. I always did merge letters and emailed them individually. That was so time consuming. Once the university switched to blackboard, I have been trying to find effective ways to share final grade breakdowns with students. The new thing I learned today: I got my final spreadsheet tallies into blackboard. It took a little playing around to accomplish it, but nothing extreme!

Today is Bob's 50th birthday. Hard to believe! Yesterday it was confirmed that he will need another surgery. Great present!