Paul, a Mobile Phone Salesman from South Wales . . .

Maybe you've seen this, maybe you haven't, but I discovered it yesterday, and . . . well . . . in case you need an uplifting moment:




The Aerosmith at the end of the clip ruins it, but the female judge's face during the performance speaks most eloquently.

Summer Book Report

Two monstrous books, alike in dignity,
In fair Weakley County, where we lay our scene:

The Reformation

Anna Karenina

I can't put either one down, and it looks like it'll be several weeks before I'm done with them. I need to read the history book anyway, and this is my third try with Karenina (this time, a new translation). Consider this a recommendation if you need poolside reading.

It's no fun doing ESL Composition

By far the biggest pain this summer term has been my personal struggle over how to treat my ESL students in this advanced composition class. I have two Saudi men, a German woman, and a Japanese man in the class, each at a different level of proficiency.

I know I complained earlier about the Saudis, but they are both performing much better. One of them thinks he can play me, and adamantly refuses to take any advice, but I can pass each of them without any qualms.

My Japanese student, though . . . oh dear. He doesn't belong in this class. He doesn't even belong in basic composition. His command of English is poor even at the most basic level. I'm in the position of having to fail him (he has already asked me to tell him how to get a "better grade," and I'm lost for words) if I'm to be at all consistent. I don't want to levy "punishment," since it's hardly his fault that he's not fluent in English, but there is no way he can pass the class.

And of course, our university has very little in the way of options. He has evidently "passed" all the required ESL and previous comp classes, so I'm stuck.

"Carolina isn't a 'basketball school,'"

Quoth the inimitable Dean Smith, "it's a women's soccer school."

And recently, a baseball school.

Go Heels

"Come Clean"

The world's a wonderful place
If you don't mind laughing at your mistakes
If you don't mind feeling like you've lost your breaks
and if you don't mind
a touch of Hell
every now and then.

--Jason Harrod and Brian Funck.

(you should really have all their albums, you know)

Follow up on that outdoorsy stuff

So now the government and the whole nanny-state apparatus wants to get involved in getting kids out of doors.

Oh, hell. The last thing advocates of good old-fashioned childhood play should want is getting congress involved. That'll kill it for sure.

I'm with Ann Althouse:

Back in the old days, it was just your mom saying get out of the house. Now, it's the whole government. The government wants me to get out of the house? That would have made me even less likely to leave the house. The real question is what would make a kid love to go outside. Don't we want kids to go outside because we believe it is good? If we're right about that -- are we? -- why don't the kids think it's good?

Holy Sonnet 19

Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
A constant habit; that when I would not
I change in vows, and in devotion.
As humorous is my contrition
As my profane love, and as soon forgot:
As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot,
As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none.
I durst not view heaven yesterday; and today
In prayers and flattering speeches I court God:
Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod.
So my devout fits come and go away
Like a fantastic ague; save that here
Those are my best days, when I shake with feare.

--John Donne

Roaming

We've noticed that The Little Boy is perfectly happy spending all his time outdoors.

I've also noticed that partly due to the popularity of The Dangerous Book for Boys (still haven't got a copy, but it looks awesome), there's a boomlet of discussion about kids' need to just get out and play in dirt hills, climb trees, fall down, scrape knees, etc.

Cool link from Boingboing about how the range of places children are allowed to go has shrunk so severely. I remember roaming all over the place on my bike (in elementary school) and then by foot (in high school). And this was in Manila!

I hope we can keep getting him outside as he grows up. Maybe if we make the house as boring as possible, he'll not need to be urged! Quick, Piers! More Loeb Editions!

Two of the Deadly Sins

In Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book One, the fourth canto is devoted to the House of Pride and a long procession of the Deadly Sins. We talked about it in class today, and to help the students get a feel for how these sins might be depicted, I tried to find some images. Thanks to Wikimedia Commons, a couple of really incredible images from Pieter Bruegel the Elder:

Lechery:
















Avarice:

For Pappy

Some of my favorite memories are of those times Dad would take us fishing. He'd always pretend to be satisfied with the cane pole, since we boys always wanted the fancy rigs. Yet it was Dad who baited the hooks, took the fish off the hooks, unsnarled our lines, and patiently endured every kind of childhood clumsiness we could dish out. "We" went fishing, and Dad did 90% of the work, down to cleaning what we'd caught.

I always associate fishing with North Carolina, because on family vacations to see my grandparents, we spent an awful lot of time at various fishing spots. It wasn't until a few years ago that I realized why we went out so much--Dad wanted to get out of the house!

Thanks, Dad.

Adventures in Rural Healthcare

A student of mine got a call in the middle of the workday on Thursday. Turns out her brother had been in a stump-burning accident and was in the Emergency Room at our hospital here in town. Second-degree burns up & down his arms. His face had been ON FIRE and appeared to be third-degree.

The ER doctor sent him home after smearing Neosporin on his face and arms, and after assuring him that he'd have no scarring and would be "back at work" in ten days. They did not check his airway, his nasal passages, or inside his mouth.

Thanks to a phone call to Vanderbilt Hospital, he's now in the ICU at the Burn Center at Vanderbilt; they were shocked that he'd been sent home, considering his condition--the term "malpractice" has been thrown around a good bit.

I'm not sure what to make of all this, but it does make me just a bit nervous about any emergency featuring, say, The Little Boy.

To Buzzrd and Hammie

Awesome. You've had better and worse and all stages in-between, and there's no sneezing at 11 years.

Good to see your faces, too :)

Astrophil #10

Reason, in faith thou art well served, that still
Wouldst brabling be with sense and love in me:
I rather wished thee climb the Muses' hill,
Or reach the fruit of Nature's choicest tree,
Or seek heaven's course, or heaven's inside to see.
Why shouldst thou our thorny soil to till?
Leave sense, and those which sense's objects be:
Deal thou with powers of thoughts, leave love to will.
But thou wouldst needs fight both with love and sense,
With sword of wit, giving wounds of dispraise,
Till downright blows did foil thy cunning fence:
For soon as they strake thee with Stella's rays,
Reason thou kneel'dst, and offeredst straight to prove
By reason good, good reason her to love.

--Sir Philip Sidney

Chaucer . . .

. . . defeats me yet again. Every time I try to teach anything by him, he eludes me; I find that I have very little to say. I know when I've been beat; he confounds me in a way that almost no other author does, at least among those that I normally work with.

Adventures with students, vol. 5 and 6

#5: I had a conversation yesterday with a woman, a non-traditional student, who lives--get this--in Arkansas. She commutes to school 2 hours one-way every day, getting up at 4:15 to have her 3 kids at the neighbor's (she pays for their care). She's taking summer courses at 7:30, 9:15, 11:00 and 1:00. She home-schools the children, and (of course) she's a single mom. She has been buying sub-$1000 cars to get her back and forth (the last one actually rusted and fell apart on her while she was making the drive). She is, in short, making a heroic effort to get her degree. I'm in awe.

#6: Student comes into my office yesterday afternoon to get my feedback on a rough draft for Monday's assignment. I read and begin to critique the paper, suggesting that he explain himself better in a passage at the bottom of page one.

"I did that after the quote," he says.

That's fine, but it would be more effective if you were to move it over here directly after the sentence that needs explanation. He looks at me like I'm stupid, repeating what I've said to him. Bemused at his skepticism--he did come to me for help, yes?--I repeat the advice, and he smirks. "Okay," he says.

This scene is repeated with every recommendation I make, including when I suggest that he might want to include some more examples from More's Utopia (the putative topic of the paper). He argues that he's trying to not use too many examples. I respond that he hasn't used enough, so surely there's a middle way to go here. He repeats that he's trying to not use too many examples.

At this point, I should have thrown him out with the 'suggestion' that he do whatever the heck he wants, since he obviously knows better than I how to write an effective essay. Still bemused, however, I muttered some vaguely reassuring words and sent him on his way. He left with an attitude that seemed to say, "thanks a lot for telling me that I've done this wrong, buster." Maybe the inevitable "C" will get his attention--save that when he gets it, it'll be my fault for not giving him good enough advice.

Biking report

Tally for the week:

Miles ridden: 13, 13, and 24. That makes, what, 50 miles?

Dogs outrun: 10. Damn dogs.

Rear tire flats: 2.

Flats repaired so far: 1.

Sunburns: 1. ouch.

Today, I met up with a colleague who has been cycling for about three years; we've been talking about going out for a ride together. Well, we left this morning for a 38-mile ride down to Big Cypress Tree State Natural Area (it doesn't even qualify as a park). I nearly swallowed my tongue (38 miles??? I've never gone above 15!!!). Still, we kept a moderate pace and it was a great ride. Until a third of the way back, when I felt my back tire go down. Had to call the cavalry while he rode on up ahead, because changing the back tube on the side of a highway, having only done it once? Not a recipe for success. I realized upon getting home that I'd been most unwise in my choice to not wear sunscreen.

Still, it was a lot of fun to go on such a long ride (long for me, that is) with someone. We've made plans to go out next Saturday. I'll wear my spf 60.

Finally!

We know when it's being released!

Muppet Show Season Two DVD

Let's see if I remember my Machiavelli

Our department chair is out of town for a few weeks, and she has actually left me as the man nominally in charge. I have access to IRIS, our double-secret HR and financial software. I am the one who needs to sign things that need to be signed. If there is a crisis, I will man the battlements and rally the troops. Ahh, the power! the POWER!

Now, what was that bit about being feared and loved?

Big News from McKenzie

It's been a monumental week. Today we learned that my brother B and his wife have been approved to start the process of adopting a child from Russia. This is the end of a long road for them--months of infertility treatments and the resulting side effects, which in R's case were pretty severe.

They're keeping a record of how it happens: hilladoption.blogspot.com.

We here at Luigi's Mansion are thrilled for them.

For Papa

This past Sunday, my father-in-law announced that effective the end of August, he will end his tenure as music minister at First Baptist Church Nashville. We are all happy for him, because after 30 years at this church, he's able to step away on his own terms, as a matter of choice.

He made the announcement at the end of the service, and when he opened by saying "I'm announcing my retirement," an audible gasp rippled through the sanctuary. He spoke evenly of what is coming, of the difficulty of stepping away, of his thankfulness for the years given him at the church. It was, as I might have predicted, a graceful and understated way to make a terribly difficult announcement.

W and I cried as he spoke, and I realized as I looked up at the east window that this church has been my spiritual home for many years now. I know about saying goodbye to important places, so I know about the importance of being thankful for the time I am given. Since I first visited the church in the spring of 1994, I've counted it a blessing to worship there, and I've been proud to be associated with Papa. It's not as if we're never going back, but this past weekend did feel like we were turning a page, making way for a change both painful and good.

He'll be receiving a lot of expressions of thankfulness and admiration, so this one can go in the pile as well. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

But dern, I always wanted to sing in that choir.


No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging
Since Christ is lord of Heav'n and Earth
How can I keep from singing?